#I feel like I’m still processing it so I can’t even imagine how she must feel

[feelingtheaster99]

I just finished Fourth Wing and I realized that the reason that Xaden never really hated Violet is because he knew about her from her brother and already knew she was a good person and I want to CRY

[zkaus]

At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

[gold-onthe-inside]

pair programming - part ii

navigator

who? spencer reid (s3) x analyst!reader summary: what happens after your roommate and better half is shot on the doorstep of your building by her date. turns out, your support network seems to have more nodes that you'd thought. content warnings: reference to guns + gunshot injury, surgery, blood word count: 2.1k a/n: realised after writing this that reader has more interactions with everyone on the team than she does with penelope oops

Spencer handed you a cup of tea, sitting down beside you in the hospital waiting room, the rest of the team milling around, waiting for news on Penelope’s surgery. You hadn’t said a word about what happened, the team relying on a police officer and a paramedic’s account while you sat there in catatonic shock, blood staining your white shirt, your hoodie doing more work in hiding it. You could still feel the blood on your hands, stained from pressing down on Penelope’s gunshot wound.

Spencer didn’t know what to do or say, just pressing the warm beverage into your hands, Emily and JJ murmuring in the corner.

“Has anyone told Morgan yet?”

“He isn’t answering the phone.”

“Is she?”

“Still in shock. Hasn’t said a word.”

“And Penelope?”

“All we know is a gunshot wound to the chest, and that they’re operating now.”

Spencer’s eyes are still on you, a shell of yourself, unable to reconcile the person he sees with the person he knows. He knows you deal with threats far greater than the ones they do — they’ve just come back from arresting a cannibal, you prevent military secrets getting out and uncover espionage attempts. But it’s from the safety of a digital interface, the day to day of it so mundane that it makes him want to pull his eyeballs out. Your job doesn’t get you shot. Technically, Penelope’s job shouldn’t have gotten her shot either.

No-one was paying attention to him, or to you, which is why he’s on his knees in front of you, aligning his gaze with yours, and does one of the few things he knows how to do; explaining. He put the tea down on the floor, taking hold of your hands, your eyes distant, your fingers cold. If he couldn’t do anything for Penelope, maybe there was something he could do for you.

“When the brain experiences trauma it has an affect on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system.” He said the words quietly, a distraction technique to bring your focus to something, even if it was nothing. “The physiological response is a fight or flight response. When your brain is unable to process the situation, it freezes in an effort to protect your mind and body. You might feel numb, or cry, or rage. You might just sit there, emotionally unable to move. You might dissociate, and feel like nothing around you is real, or that it‘s actually happening to someone else.” He squeezed your hands, hoping for a response. It felt like you weren’t even there.

“I can’t imagine how scared you must be, and I’m not going to try and tell you that everything will be okay, because it may not-,” and he hated saying the words, they felt like a lie in his mouth, but it was the truth “-but whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.”

“I can’t lose her,” you whispered. Thank god, Spencer thought as he looked at you again, and while he knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it all better, he also knew that the fact that you were finally verbal was probably a positive. You hadn’t said a word in hours.

“I know,” he said quietly. The team still milled around, waiting, the hospital buzzing with activity, but he felt like the words were just his and yours, the intimacy of the two of you cocooned away from the world.

"I don't..." You struggled to get the words out. "She's all I have." He watched as the tears welled in your eyes, watched as they fell down your cheeks. He wanted to reach out, to brush them away, and he hesitated, wondering what he possibly could do to comfort you.

Instead he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, a hug, and hoped that he wasn’t being too forward, and you crushed yourself against his chest, hugging him back. He ran a hand up and down your back as he held you to him, his cheek against the side of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know if he was apologising for Penelope’s injuries, or the fact that he couldn’t save her, or that he hadn’t been there, or because there was nothing he could do to make it better. He was just sorry.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to background check this guy?” you asked, offering Penelope your eyeliner as she finished curling her hair and she rolled her eyes.

“God, you sound like Derek,” she retorted spitefully and you frowned. It was unlike her to be say his name with such anger, when it was usually said with love, fondness, occasional lust, and just in an overall dreamy fashion. A part of you had always wondered if there was more to their relationship than just platonic friendship.

“Alright,” you replied, letting it go. Penelope was a grown woman, she could make her own decisions… and was also equally capable of running a background check as, if not more, thorough as you would have. You tried not to look at the mess that your shared bathroom had turned into, make-up supplied and jewellery scattered over the counter, leaving her to do her thing. “And I better not get a text saying you’re bringing him upstairs,” you called out as you leave.

“This is just wrong,” you murmured, looking at Penelope’s pale, all but lifeless body, tubes running from her nose and arms, wires strapped to her chest, the suite silent but for the steady beep of the heart monitor. You still hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed, willing yourself not to cry. You were not going to be one of those family members who couldn’t get a grip of themselves. You especially refused to become a blubbering mess in front of her co-workers.

“I know,” Spencer said softly, wanting to take your hand again, but holding himself back. He still never knew where he stood with you. Hell, he didn’t know how to process what was going on for him — the only thing he knew he had to do was stabilise you, never mind himself.

You finally manage to put one step in front of the other, going towards Penelope and Spencer could see your hand shaking as you gingerly took hers, the way you blinked back tears, almost refusing to breathe because you were convinced the only thing that would come out would be a sob. Spencer swallowed, moving to draw the curtains over the windows, closing the doors so it was only the three of you in the room, and kept his back turned as you finally gave in to the squeezing grip your lungs had on your heart, sinking into the chair as you cried, gripping the hand that wouldn’t squeeze back.

You started awake when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently, and it’s Aaron standing over you. “Sorry,” you mustered, wiping away dried tear tracks and he simply pulled up a chair beside you.

“I know it’s been a long night,” he said softly, leaning on his knees, looking at you kindly. “But we need your help.” He watches you nod, taking in a deep breath.

“Anything,” you said, a lot calmer now.

“We need to get some kind of identification on this guy,” Aaron told you, his voice measured and even and a part of you was jealous you couldn’t be as calm as he was, and partly angry that he could be this calm with Penelope this way.

“She said his name was Colby,” you said, remembering the joke you had made when she told you.

“Like the cheese?” you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically and she scoffed.

“Do not ruin this for me,” she retorted, pointing her laptop charger at you like a wand. “He’s cute and he actually likes me. Do you even remember the last time I’ve been asked out?”

“That doesn’t mean you should go out with anyone who asks,” you replied. “I mean, what kind of person doesn’t turn on auto-save?” It earns you a glare from her and you quieten, turning back to your book.

You shook your head, trying to focus on your screen, set up right beside Penelope, refusing to leave her side even as she slept, and neither did Derek or Spencer, the former practically breathing down your neck. You glanced up at Spencer, a plea in your eyes to get him off your back, and he makes a pitiful attempt of asking Derek if he wants to go get a coffee with him, which he denies and so Spencer shrugged, so you let out a breath, focusing on what you were doing.

“There’s nothing on a James Colby Baylor,” you said, sounding tired, running a hand through your hair, then settling it back on your keyboard.

“If he knew Penelope was FBI, then maybe he used a pseudonym,” Spencer offered, his hands in his pockets, standing across from you. “Try using the same combination of letters, JCB.”

“I’m gonna need more parameters than just three letters,” you retorted, looking up at him.

“Check anyone who rented a white sedan in the last 24 hours,” Derek said, still leaning over you and you desperately wanted to hit the both of them. Repeatedly. Instead, you check car rentals across the city matching the description, matching the restaurant that they had gone to, adding your facial recognition program to look for blonde men with blue eyes. “Plus some kind of job in the justice department. Try law enforcement, former military, stuff like that,” Derek added. “He knew enough to use legal terms, but not enough to know city attorneys don’t try criminal cases. Law school dropout, failed the bar exam—”

“Jason Clark Battle,” you told him, pulling up the picture of him and you swallowed. That was him. The guy you’d seen run away from the front of your building after you heard the gunshot. Your hands curled into fists, oblivious to Derek calling Aaron about it, charging out the door. Spencer didn’t particularly want to leave either of you, but he muttered a quick, ‘Be right back’ before disappearing.

You handed Derek a mug of coffee while Penelope slept in her own bed, the door left open in case she needed either of them. He’s set up on your couch, a blanket and pillows, his gun set on the coffee table, a single light left on so he can read the file. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asked you and you shrugged, taking a seat on the corner of the coffee table.

“He shot her on the doorstep, Morgan,” you said quietly. “If I hadn’t been at home…”

Morgan placed his hand on your knee, warm and comforting, and even though you had made fun of him being here, calling him Penelope’s ‘guard dog’, deep down, you were glad he was here. “There’s a lot that went wrong that night,” he said smoothly, his voice low. “Don’t eat at yourself worrying about how it could have been worse.”

You huffed a little. “You mean like you’ve been doing?” you asked, looking at him pointedly and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You sure you aren’t a profiler?” he asked, noticing the slight hint of a smile on your face as you shrug.

“I guess we’re both wired the same way,” you said, instead of the retort you had lined up in your head. “Protecting the people we care about, blaming ourselves when they get hurt.” You glanced at Penelope’s room, her open door. “She’s all I have, Morgan.” And maybe it’s the late night, the anxiety coursing through your body, the thing that makes it impossible to sleep, that starts in your head and works its way to your chest, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “She’s everything. My emergency contact, my medical proxy… Hell, if I died tomorrow, everything I own goes to her. She’s my family. If I lose her, I have no-one.”

Derek lets a beat pass, watching you, and you can tell he knows something you don’t, because he said, “You have people. Even if you can’t see them.” You frowned a little as he went back to his file, clearly unwilling to say more, and you’ve never been one to push into personal space. Instead, you go back to your room, left with his cryptic words.

[httpvomitello]

HI YOUR WRITING MAKES MY HEART SOAR! Just recently got back on my tmnt love and I was thinking. How would the guys react when they find out the woman they love also loves them back? Like they’ve been pining for months/YEARS even!! Maybe they still do or at some point they decide to abandon all feelings but then she tells them herself or maybe she or April accidentally let’s it slip to the turts. Would they immediately make a move? Would they get embarrassed and withdraw? I need to knowwwww 💙❤️💜🧡

Awwwn, thank you soooo much! Seriously, reading this makes me so happy. Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Do You Like Me Too? *⁠.⁠✧

Leo had trained himself to set his feelings aside. So he kept everything bottled up—only allowing himself brief moments to imagine what it would be like if you felt the same way.

But that all changes one night while you and Leo are practicing together. You’ve been working on some new moves, and Leo’s been your patient mentor, guiding you, helping you adjust your stance.

After a particularly successful move, he gives you an approving smile. "Nice job, (Y/N). You’re really getting the hang of it."

You grin, catching your breath as you hold his gaze. But then, suddenly, your face softens, and the words slip out almost like a sigh: "Maybe I’m just trying to impress you."

Leo freezes, his heart hammering. He’s sure he must have misheard. "What?"

"I like you, Leo. Like… really like you." You smile shyly, as if the weight of your confession is finally off your shoulders. "I don’t think I could have hidden it much longer."

For a split second, Leo’s mind races. Every reason he’s ever come up with to keep his distance vanishes. His face softens, and he takes a deep breath, daring to move closer.

"I—" His voice catches, and he looks down, gathering his thoughts. "I thought I could just… bury these feelings and keep them hidden. For the sake of you, really. I didn’t want you to feel any kind of pressure…or guilt."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, and you reach up to gently cup his face, bringing his gaze back to yours. "Leo, you don’t have to hold back. I don’t want you to."

"I’ve loved you for so long, (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "But I thought it was selfish of me to want you in my life that way."

Your gaze softens as you lean in closer. "Then let yourself be selfish for once, Leo."

He closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips softly against yours in a kiss that speaks of all the months he’s held back

“I think I could get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with happiness.

Raph tried to deny his feelings for you for as long as he could. Sure, he’d admired you, flirted a little, maybe even let his jealousy slip out when someone else had your attention. But he never dared to take it any further. You deserved better, he’d tell himself, so he kept his distance and convinced himself it was better this way.

April, though, had always seen right through him. She knew he was hiding a soft spot under that gruff exterior, and she'd caught on to his little glances and subtle protectiveness.

One day, she comes over to your place with a casual, “So…when are you finally gonna tell Raph that you like him too?”

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

April goes still, the color draining from her face as she realizes her mistake. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to—oh man, please don’t tell Raph I said anything.”

But you’re still processing, and your cheeks flush. “Wait, he…he likes me?”

April’s eyes widen as she realizes the floodgate she’s just opened. “Um…well, yeah, he kinda has for a long time.” She winces, giving you a guilty smile. “But he’d kill me if he knew I told you.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart racing at the thought. “I think it’s time I go have a talk with him.”

Raph’s sitting in the gym later that evening, he doesn’t notice you at first, so you clear your throat, causing him to look up, startled.

“Oh, hey,” he says, masking his surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You sit beside him, watching as he fidgets with a wrench, not quite meeting your eyes. After a moment, you take a deep breath. “Raph… April told me something today. And I need to know if it’s true.”

He freezes, his grip on the wrench tightening. “Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“She…mentioned that you might have feelings for me.”

The wrench clatters to the floor as Raph turns to you, his face a mixture of panic and frustration. “Damn it, April—she wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “Raph, it’s okay. Actually… it’s more than okay.”

He looks up at you, searching your face, his eyes filled with hope and uncertainty. “What’re you saying?”

You smile, your own cheeks flushing. “I feel the same way, Raph. I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but I was worried about how you’d react.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if waiting for the punchline. Then, unable to hold back, he pulls you into a tight hug, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Damn, I thought you’d never notice," he whispers, his voice rough but full of relief.

Donnie had always been the hopeless romantic, pining for you in ways that even he knew were a little over the top. He could spend hours in his lab thinking about you, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you could ever feel the same. But he never dared to say anything, especially when every little interaction with you made his heart race to the point he thought he’d lose all composure.

But April knew. Of course she did; she could read Donnie like a book. And on one of your usual visits to the lair, she accidentally lets something slip.

"Donnie, you’re so silly!" you laugh, watching him fumble through some tech explanation he’s giving you. The way you smile at him has him grinning like a fool, and April can't resist rolling her eyes. She's seen this situation too many times, and as she leans back, she accidentally mutters, “If only she knew how much you’re into her…”

You freeze. “Wait, what?” You turn to April, wide-eyed, and Donnie goes pale, his mouth opening in horror as he stares at April.

April realizes her slip-up too late, and her cheeks go red. “I mean—I…uh, have to go grab something from the kitchen!” she stammers, bolting before either of you can ask her another question.

There’s a long, awkward silence as you turn to Donnie, waiting for an answer. “Is that true?” you ask softly.

Donnie’s eyes dart around, searching for some form of escape, but when none appears, he swallows hard and nods. “Yeah… it’s true. I’ve liked you for…a long time, actually.” His face flushes as he finally admits it, looking anywhere but at you.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you reach out to gently touch his arm. “Donnie… I like you too.”

The words hit him like a shockwave, and his wide eyes finally meet yours. “Wait—what? You…you like me?”

You nod, your smile growing, and that’s all he needs. Slowly, a shy but delighted smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a little laugh, his fingers brushing against yours. "I never thought this day would actually come," he whispers.

With a grin, you step closer, and he reaches out, letting his hand brush your cheek before finally leaning in, pulling you into a gentle kiss, his heart racing with pure joy.

Mikey had always been open about his affection for you. Playful, flirty, and constantly teasing, he never held back with compliments and affectionate gestures. But you’d always just laughed and brushed him off, thinking it was just part of his personality.

What you didn’t know was that underneath his bright smiles and lighthearted antics, he’d been pining for you, hiding just how much he cared. For months, he’d wondered if you could ever take him seriously, if you’d ever see him as more than a friend.

One day, you decided to finally tell him how you felt. You’d noticed he’d been holding back a bit lately, that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to joke around as much. So you decided to risk it, showing up at the lair to talk to him.

He greets you with his usual grin, "Hey, (Y/N)! What’s up?"

"Mikey… can we talk for a sec?"

His smile falters, and he swallows, his hands fidgeting as he looks at you. "Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding. "I just wanted to tell you that… well, I like you. More than a friend, I mean."

For a second, Mikey’s face is blank, and then it lights up in pure, unfiltered joy. "Wait—are you serious?" He lets out a little laugh, almost like he can’t believe it. "You really like me?"

"Yeah," you say, your own smile growing as you see how genuinely happy he looks. "I mean, I thought you’d already know by now."

Mikey practically bounces on his feet, letting out a loud whoop. Without missing a beat, he pulls you into a hug, lifting you slightly as he spins you around, laughing with pure excitement.

"I knew it! I knew there was something between us!" he says, eyes shining. Then he looks at you with a playful grin, leaning close as he whispers, "Guess that makes me your favorite turtle, huh?"

With a laugh, you press a kiss to his cheek, and he turns bright red but doesn’t stop smiling.

[violentlilies]

You know how my HC is that during the Imperium secundus arc Konrad’s mental state is deteriorating to the point that his physicality is falling apart. Not just in terms of him appearance but also in terms of containing his warp spirit.

The veil between the warp-being he is and his physicality grew so thin that sometimes he doesn’t look fully “human” anymore, but people can see his true form, or at least his true form bleeding into his human one. Think of it like he’s glitching. His being is falling apart. The warp-form bleeding out of his body, it’s shell deprecating.

When Guilliman’s mom is facing him she sees a “being of smoke and shadow”. He’s described as “smoke and shadow” on multiple accounts - it seems to be his true warp form.

If you want a visual reference look up Gandalf vs sauron from the hobbit, sauron is also an entity who can take human form but in a weakened state appears in his spirit form of smoke and shadow.

Imagine it like seeing a demon thru their human disguise. Something’s off.

40k fans mistake warp forms for physical monsters. Corax isn’t a “raven monster”, he’s also an apparition of smoke and shadow that can take physical shape. This process is flawed in Curze as he falls apart so he can’t fully take a purely human shape all the time anymore. It’s inconsistent, sometimes more or less warp, but it’s there. The best way I can describe it is “his human shell is leaky”

Curze in his last arc is like a robot that still works and walks around but it’s leaking oil, it’s screws are loosened, parts rusted, internal workings misfiring, some cables broken, pieces falling off, voice system glitching, the computer running out of battery and misfiring from water damage

Walking around while trying to hold your internal organs from falling out because your skin keeps breaking and rotting apart.

His physical body is breaking apart on every level, including fundamental.

Imagine being poor Tarasha cowering in the corner, and seeing a giant apparition walk towards you that has a human shape but surrounded by smoke and shadow, the human shape seeming more like a skin or mask then a real body, being able to see the being wearing it, trying to hold it from falling off, moving oddly, sounding odd, otherworldly, you can feel the endless darkness and evil emanating off it like a black hole - 

There’s this deep realization that you’re not talking to the face you see, this isn’t a human being, these are powers beyond you, this is evil and malice beyond you.

It’s like in terminator when the terminator’s human skin suit is melting / breaking off in places - that’s the vibe I’m thinking, but instead of a metal robot it’s a dark warp spirit

I can imagine to other primarchs it isn’t that big of a deal to notice it but to a human… seeing a healthy normal primarch is already overwhelming and terrifying, add on top of that seeing a healthy Konrad is even scarier because of his features but seeing Konrad as “clearly a warp demon in a skinsuit” must be the scariest thing imaginable

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter 1

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1700 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Overall rating will be Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 8 years. This chapter is a wee lil mellow one and sets the scene, but future ones will include soft, yet sexy and intense Dave; several twists - basically, it will have it all: action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), and SMUT! No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her.

AN: I got too excited and decided to post the first chapter. Posting schedule will be somewhere are weekly, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1:

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air.

The soft glow of you bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, making the clutter of half-packed boxes look like ominous towers. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to process her words.

“My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry!

“Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper.

You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy.

Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding?

She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone.

Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured.

“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.”

She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

That piqued your interest.

“Oh, oh, oh, you robbin’ the cradle, mama?” you teased. “You’re really living your cougar era, huh?”

“Stop it, you,” she giggled in return. “So, when do you think you’ll get here?”

Conversation went back and forth a little longer as your mom gave you the new address – for fuck’s sake, they moved clear across the state from where you grew up, to a very swanky area at the shore, you noted – and you made a rough itinerary. In reality, you would have loved to just drop everything and get the fuck out of dodge right that minute, but logistics and all that.

“Ok, honey. Be careful and I’ll see you next week. Call if you need anything.” Before she ended the call, your mom added, “I’ll text you Dave’s number as well, so you have it in case of emergencies.

“Sounds good, mama. Love you.”

“Love you more, honey.”

You went back to packing up the remnants of your life, readying yourself for the cross-country journey ahead.

You did not have ‘moving back home at almost 30’ on your bingo card this year, but there you were, pulling into the half-moon driveway of a large colonial home in an upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than where your mom used to live. The house loomed under the late morning sun, its pristine white siding and black shutters stark against the cloudless blue sky. Perfectly trimmed hedges flanked the curved driveway, and somewhere nearby, the faint crash of waves carried on the salty breeze. This Dave guy had a lot of money, it appeared. Parking your little sedan to the far side in front of the 3-car garage, you turned the car off and lingered in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Normally, you didn’t mind change, but… man, the past month threw some whammies at you. You lost a boyfriend, job, and your loyal goldfish in quick succession. Each loss hit worse than the last. And now, your safe space, the place you needed to return to so you could lick your wounds… also changed. Big time.

The soft tap of a manicured nail on the window startled you, head snapping to the side to see your mom standing in the driveway beaming at you. She bounced on her feet, anxiously waiting for you to get out of the car.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you!” You barely had time to fully stand up before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That was another thing about your mom – she was strong. She had lithe muscles packed into her small figure from being a total gym addict.

Too bad that addiction wasn’t hereditary. You hated the gym.

“Hi mama! Marriage looks good on you!” you praised her once you stepped back and took in her glowing, sun-kissed skin, vibrant blonde locks, and the large rock on her hand.

“You look good, too, honey. You losing weight?”

And of course, she honed right in on that. You weren’t even in front of her for five minutes, and she brought up your weight. Story of your life. Your body shape the exact opposite of your, mother’s, she hadn’t let up on nagging you about your weight since you were twelve years old. You were always a bit… thick in places.

“Uh, maybe, I dunno. Come on, show me your new digs.” You quickly changed the subject.

Your mom gives you the grand tour, proudly showing off all the lovely features of the house, focusing heavily on the ones the home you grew up in didn’t have like the huge kitchen, fireplace, pool, and enormous master suite, though she led you away before you could fully explore all that the suite offered. The two other bedrooms were already decorated for little girls, and you quirked a curious eyebrow at your mom.

“Didn’t I mention that Dave has two young daughters?”

No. No, she definitely did not mention that. You rolled your eyes, understanding now why your mom was so eager for you to come home. She wanted a built-in caretaker. You mentally counted down, knowing exactly what she was about to say in three, two, one…

“Actually, now that you’ll be living here, it would be great if you could look after the girls when we have to travel for work or want to go out, help with the school runs during the week.”

It wasn’t a question, you noted. Not that you expected her to ask first or even mention that being a nanny would be part of the deal. Nothing with your mom ever came without a cost. You learned that lesson long ago.

You loved your mom, you really did. Sometimes, she just didn’t make it easy to do so.

“Right. About that… where am I supposed to be staying if all the bedrooms are taken?”

She led you down the stairs to a door off the family room, where another stairway awaited you. “You’re locking me away in the basement?” you joked. “Please tell me it’s at least finished.”

“Just wait until you see it, honey,” your mom promised, and you reluctantly followed her down the steps.

When the lights flicked on, the sight took your breath away. It was like an entire apartment down there. It even had its own private entrance leading to the garage allowing you to come and go as you pleased. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Told ya.” She flashed you a twitchy wink. “You’ll have this whole space to yourself… well, except for that room over there.” She pointed to a closed door equipped with a sturdy lock.

“What’s in there?” you questioned, already curious about the reasoning for such a lock on the door.

“That’s Dave’s office. It’s off limits to everyone but him, so don’t go snooping. Got it?” She pointed a finger at you like you were an errant child, and you raised your hands in surrender.

“Heard you loud and clear, mama. I have no interest in whatever creepy ass skeletons Dave is keeping in his locked office.” Total lie, of course, but your mom didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Get settled in and help yourself to whatever you need. I must head to the office for a bit. Dave should be home at some point, he just had a meeting in town. I’ll pick up the girls from school on my way home if you want to take care of dinner.”

And there it was. You knew there’d be a bigger price to pay for this arrangement, more than occasionally taking care of your new stepsisters. Without a job or any other responsibilities, your mom was going to treat you like free labor. You saw that coming.

You followed your mom upstairs and through the front door as she headed to her car in the garage, and you went for yours. Might as well get unpacked, not like you brought much anyway. It was early still, and you could make a trip to the store for anything you needed before having to worry about dinner.

A few hours later, you stepped back to admire your new living space with a sense of pride. You did everything you could to make it your own, within reason.

With the basement suite basically being a blank slate, you chose a variety of decorative pillows, wall hangings, and chotchkes to give it your own stylistic flair. The furnishings unused and rather plain, you wanted to spice them up with splashes of color. You did everything short of paint the damn walls – and you would have done that too if given the option.

Grateful for a firm mattress with a plush pillowtop, you sprang for the softest satiny sheets you could find in a pale green hue and paired it with a patterned comforter with clean lines. A couple of coastal-themed lamps on the nightstands rounded out the small bedroom.

The bathroom was already decorated with a shower curtain and accessories in soft gray hues, and you wondered if that was Dave’s touch or your mother’s. Probably Dave. Your mom never veered toward subtle furnishings, much preferring patterns and styles that you found garish.

Glancing around at the neat space one last time, you headed upstairs to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. You wanted to make something special for the first time meeting your stepdad and his daughters.

tbc

Chapter Two

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69

[magics-neptunes-things]

Mockingjay - Part 11

Hi guys!

I'm so sorry for the delay, but between my health and all the work I have to do for my job, I almost don't know what day we are.

I'm glad for all the sweets messages and the love and supports I get for this serie though, it really means a lot ♥

There is a little bit of suspense here, I'll try not to make you wait as long as this time for the next chapter.

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Fight, injury, scorpions, death, gun, gunshot, angst.

Chapter Before

“I’m so sorry”

“Lucy, stop” Ona sighs softly.

Lucy doesn’t answer anything, she just bites her bottom lip to stay silent. But she can’t help but look at Ona’s arm and the bruise forming on it. Even if it was to save her life, she had to hit her hard enough to at least hurt the scorpion who was casually strolling in her arm.

So, Lucy just basically saved Ona’s life, but the older girl can’t get over the fact that she hit Ona. And hurt her in the process.

They are currently sitting on a blanket, Lucy scanning the ground around them with the pocket lamp to see if there are more scorpions and eventually make them leave thanks to the light.

They are sitting back to back, just to have a better view around them. Because they shouldn’t look for the scorpions only, but for the other tributes maybe too. They don’t know where Tony went and where everyone else is. Being attacked right now could be the worst fight ever.

Ona is jumping in the air from time to time, sure that she felt one of those animals running on her body. She was wrong every time and Lucy almost had a heart attack every time too.

“Are you sleeping?” Lucy asks after a moment.

“No” Ona mumbles.

She’s tired, she must admit that. But there is no world where she falls asleep and puts them both in danger right now. It’s hard to imagine how my time passed since the night fell some hours before. Ona really hopes that it will be finished soon.

Ona changes her position when she feels Lucy’s hand reach for hers, unrolling her arms that she had wrapped around her legs glued to her chest. She gladly let Lucy play with her fingers, enjoying this little closeness even here.

Ona can’t explain why, maybe because of how tired she is, but once again their reality hit her like a wall of bricks. She feels her throat tightens at the idea that they will never be able to have this kind of moment on a lovely date, for example. She doesn’t say anything though, not wanting to make Lucy sad or even alert her.

But Lucy learned to know her, and she quickly hears Ona’s unsteady breathings, even if she can’t see her silent tears.

“What’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“Nothing” Ona breathes. “It’s stupid”

“If it makes you upset, it’s not stupid” Lucy answers, turning herself a little to have a better view of Ona. “Are you mad at me?”

Ona shakes her head no, still looking around just in case. She doesn’t want Lucy to see her cry. She doesn’t want to pass for someone weak. And more, she doesn’t want Lucy to find her childish.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lucy asks softly.

“I just…”

Ona frowns softly, not really knowing how to say the right things. She has all those fears about Lucy’s eventual judgement and how she can see her after that. Which is particularly stupid, Lucy would never judge Ona in any way.

“I would give everything to just have one night together, only the two of us. Without the Games, the injuries… Just you and me.”

“Ona…”

Ona hurries to take her hand back, whipping her tears and sitting a little straighter. She knows they won’t have it and that it’s stupid to cry for something they will never have.

“I told you, it was stupid” Ona shrugs.

Her back is perfectly turned so she doesn’t see Lucy. But like this, she doesn’t see the sadness and the regrets in Lucy’s eyes.

“I wish I could share these moments with you too” Lucy finally whispers.

Ona feels her throat tightens once again, but not for the same reason. She doesn’t really know if she feels better now that she knows that Lucy feels the same way. Is it worse because it supports the fact that they won’t have it? Or is it better because Lucy can understand how she’s feeling?

“What kind of things would we have done?” Ona finally asks.

“For our first date, I would have brought you on my boat to watch the sunset.”

“Sounds very romantic” Ona smirks.

Lucy hums and Ona hears her moving a little before kissing her neck. It makes Ona shiver, of course, but she smiles anyway, not expecting for Lucy to talk again.

“I don’t know if that’s any consolation, but I’m yours. No matter what happens, I will always be. Only yours.”

This time, Ona turns around completely to have an entire look at Lucy. The older girl is already looking at her, her green eyes scanning the brown one’s. Getting on her knees rather than her ass, before taking Lucy’s face between both of her hands to kiss her.

The kiss is slow but full of love and Ona can’t help but let her mind fly away, to the moment they shared together on that mountain. They had a moment only the both of them finally, only accompanied by the fire.

Lucy answers her kiss, and they are finally stopped when they feel the first light and heath of the sun on their skin. Lucy sighs from relief and looks around them. It could be hard to find their way back, everything looks the same around. But Lucy understands easily with the way Ona gets up that the younger one knows perfectly where to go.

“Are we going back to the centre of the arena or do you want to look for the oasis?” Ona asks, seeming to be happy again.

“We can look for the oasis until noon. Then we can go back to the forest if we don’t find anything.”

Ona nods and accepts the dry meat that Lucy gives her before starting to walk. She still feels tired, but she knows that they must move. She doesn’t know if someone already came here before them, the sand is the same everywhere. Including in their shoes.

“Is it a palm tree?”

They were walking for almost thirty minutes when Lucy talks again, and Ona raises her head in the direction of where Lucy is pointing.

“I think it is” Ona nods after several seconds. “Let’s go.”

They turn in the right direction, Ona two steps in front of Lucy. The latter is particularly attentive to everything, the fact that the two other girls might still be here hiding in her mind. When they are close, she softly grabs Ona’s hand to whisper it.

“Maybe they are here. Let’s be careful”

Ona nods again and squeezes Lucy’s fingers before letting her go. She can feel Lucy’s presence right behind her and it helps her to be more at ease. She feels safe with Lucy and little did she know that Lucy feels safe with her too. After all, they saved each other's lives already.

The oasis isn’t very big, but Ona must admit that it’s cute. There are a few palm trees around a very small lake. But the water is clear like a mirror, almost inviting. Rocks are around the water, as if someone had arranged seats to be able to settle comfortably in front of it.

“Someone came here” Ona whispers.

She’s looking at the rocks, but her gaze is scanning the other places of the area. Now that Lucy is looking around too, she feels the same way too. There are dates on the ground, some of them eaten and she can see footprints at some places too.

Lucy hums, turning around to look around them.

“Let’s just be careful, Love, yeah?”

Ona nods and smiles, unable to hide the butterflies she feels in her stomach when Lucy calls her like that. She takes the bow in one of her hands, just in case, when Lucy decides to make a walk around the lake “Just to have a look.”

Ona should have known it was a bad idea, every time they are separated something bad happens.

Just when Ona can’t see Lucy anymore, she feels something icy against her neck.

“Make any sound and you're dead. Do you understand?”

Ona feels her blood freeze, but she only nods softly. She doesn’t know what is held against her neck, but if it’s a knife, she doesn’t want to take any risks.

“Let go of your bow” the voice says.

Ona doesn’t hesitate before letting it go. She just hopes that Lucy will come back soon to help her. She feels stupid, Lucy just told her to be careful.

“Good. Do you know how to get out of this desert?”

Ona nods once again. She tries to recognize the voice of the person talking, but she didn’t talk a lot to those two girls. She’s unable to say which one of them is behind her.

“Show the way. Don’t turn around.”

Of course, Ona wants to turn around or even look for Lucy, but she can’t. So, she obliges and starts to walk, taking the way back she took several minutes. She can feel that icy things brush against her neck from time to time, attesting of its presence.

They were walking for several minutes when the girl talks again. Ona was walking as slow as possible, still hoping that Lucy will see them.

“Are you okay?”

Ona frowns, not understanding why the girl is asking her that question. She doesn’t understand either the soft tone used to ask this question, until she hears the girl talking again.

“Stop, Batlle.”

Then Ona turns around and realise that they were two people walking behind her. But the second girl doesn’t look good.

“What happened to her?” Ona whispers.

The first girl, Enya as Ona just remembered her name, shot her a dirty look. She raises what she had in her hand and Ona blenches when she sees that Enya is in fact holding nothing much than a gun.

“Hands up!”

Ona obliges once again, raising both of her hands without hesitation. She looks at the way Enya is looking at her partner, looking hopeless. The other girl has various purple patches all over the body, some swollen and appearing painful.

“She got bitten by scorpions” Enya groans.

Ona shivers, remembering that she had one of them in her arm last night. The second girl doesn’t seem able to talk and Ona wonders if she really can understand what is happening. She seems lost, looking at Ona blankly.

“You… You know that she won’t make it, right?” Ona says as softly as she can.

She feels sorry for that poor girl. But Enya seems angry by that statement and point her gun at the middle of Ona’s forehead.

“Shut up if you don’t want to die right now”

Ona raises her hands again, not moving anymore. She doesn’t know what sign Enya is waiting for, but she seems to be happy, so she kneels down next to the other girl lying on the ground.

Ona’s mind wanders to Lucy, who must be lost about not finding her anywhere now. Ona hopes that she won’t do something stupid, they keep reminding each other that as long as they haven’t heard the canon, there is nothing to worry about. Ona just hopes that they won’t be separated for long. Unless Enya really decides to kill her soon, which might be problematic in that case.

“Where did you find a gun?” Ona asks.

Enya looks up to look at her, seeming to think before answering. But the question is on Ona’s mind, she’s scared that Tony or Camden have found guns too. If that’s the case, winning will be difficult.

“I’ve received it from the sponsor.”

Ona arches her two eyebrows under surprise. She received pretty great things too, but nothing like that. Enya must have someone who likes her very much outside.

“Help me carry Leane. If your girlfriend sees us, she will come, and I’ll be forced to shoot her. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ona contracts her jaw at Lucy’s mention. Of course, she doesn’t want something like that. However, Ona wonders for several seconds how Enya knows about her and Lucy’s relationship. But she doesn’t have to think a lot, because Enya is pointing her gun at her face once again and she hurries to help.

They walk like this for what feels like forever, one arm around each other. Ona doesn’t know if it’s because she’s walking for a very long time, but Leane seems heavier every single second.

“Come on Leane, we are almost here” Enya repeats every two minutes.

Ona doesn’t say anything, she’s thinking a lot. She’s thinking about the chances she would have against Enya. Leane can’t fight that’s for sure and Enya seems very weak. But she has a gun, and a single shoot will be enough to kill her.

An energy boost takes Enya when they are able to see the end of the desert, the girl almost jumping until it. But Ona just has to take a look at Leane to know that things are very bad.

“I think she’s dying” Ona says slowly.

It takes Enya’s attention, and the girl looks at Leane with stupor.

“No no no no no” Enya says, laying Leane on the floor. “Not now, we are just getting out of the desert!”

The girls take Leane’s face between her hands, looking at Leane’s face. Ona feels like the girl is looking for any sign of life, which is particularly awful in her opinion. Ona jumps when Enya points the gun once again in her direction.

“Is she alive?”

Ona hesitates, looking at Leane’s frame on the sand. Poor girl seems gone, but no cannon is audible.

“Look at it!”

Enya seems to lose the little control of herself she was keeping until now. She’s making big movements with her hands, pointing Ona, then Leane, then Ona again. All of this while walking around.  

Ona kneels next to Leane, putting her finger on her neck to search for her heart rate.

“She’s alive” Ona mumbles.

She doesn’t add “for now” but she almost can’t feel anything against her fingers. It seems to calm Enya a little bit. At least she stops walking around like a crazy maniac.

“Good. Because if she dies, it’s because of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ona asks after several seconds of silence.

“If you came earlier, you could have helped us earlier. We spent days trying to get out of this place. Leane got bitten by a scorpion in the middle of the night while I was asleep. It was so painful that she wasn’t even able to walk to me to wake me up. When I woke up she was surrounded by them, so I had to kill them with the gun.”

Ona bites her lip, looking sadly at Leane. This death must be awful, she would rather die like Teagan. She feels sorry for the other girl but for Enya too. She would probably not react better if it was Lucy in this case.

“Alright, get up. Find us the bridge.”

Enya makes Ona carry Leane on her back this time, walking behind them still with the gun pointed on Ona’s head. The sun is shining brightly now, and Ona feels the sweat running on her body. She feels the weakness in her legs too, Leane is a little bit bigger than her and heavier too.

“Can we take a pause please?” Ona finally asks.

“No”

There is no room for discussion. The brunette sighs softly, trying to ignore the sweat that runs down her face. Ona manages to walk ten more minutes before feeling her legs really getting tired.

“Enya” Ona whispers.

“I said, shut up and walk.”

Ona tries. As hard as she can, but soon her legs give up and she feels on her knee. The sand is burning against her skin, but that’s probably not the most important point. Ona feels the gun against her temple, making her close her eyes.

“Get up.”

“I can’t” Ona whispers, out of breath.

Her whole body is shaking, she has trouble breathing normally, and her head is spinning. Even opening her eyes seems hard for her right now.

“You leave me no choice”

Ona hears the weapon making a click and she closes her eyes harder, waiting for the blast. But contrary to what she expected, she feels Enya falling next to her and then rolling in the sand.

Ona manages to make Leane go down on her back, kneeling to see what is happening. Enya is fighting with someone that Ona recognizes immediately. Lucy is here, saving her once again.

“She has a gun” Ona shouts.

She doesn’t know if Lucy saw them, if she was following them for many times or if it’s just a miracle for her to be her.

Enya is fighting harder than Ona would have thought, the metal of the gun shining under the sun from time to time.

When Ona finally manages to stand up, the two other girls are fighting almost hundred meters further. Ignoring her feet who are killing her, Ona tries to run to help Lucy. She regrets not having her bow.

Just when she arrives at their height, a sound of gunfire resounds in the air. Ona freezes instantly, her eyes crossing Lucy’s gaze.

Lucy’s beautiful green eyes are wide under the surprise. Ona has always loved this shape of green. But right now, what she can see in them is terrifying her.

“Lucy!”

The younger girl screams this time, looking as Lucy’s body falls on the ground, only three meters away from her.

Next Chapter

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter eleven

summary: you receive bad news, but luca is there for you. and it seems like he's intent on continuing to be there for you.

warnings: angst, grief, death, vomiting, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (specifically 'how to mend a broken heart' - al green & 'love' - kendrick lamar; another very will poulter-coded choice)

a/n: pov: it's me warning you that there is in fact angst but trust, babes. trust. after the trauma of meeting donna b in season 2, i wanted to explore characters who had positive relationships with their mothers. so if you have not picked up on it yet, this story is also about mothers **cries because it's too damn sweet. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part ten | masterlist | part twelve

Astrid: Hey give me a call when you’re up. 

I don’t want to worry you, but we need to talk. 

Your fingers hurriedly move to open up the multiple missed notifications that you have from her, holding the phone up to your ear so that you can listen to her voicemail next. 

“Hey… I know you’re probably still asleep right now,” you hear, her voice somber, as you listen to Astrid’s voicemail, left for you at three in the morning. “And I know that you’ve got your do not disturb on. But I really need to talk. Call me when you’re up.” 

Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races with fears over what this could be about, and as your eyes scroll through the other missed notifications, you see something that stops you in your tracks: 

1 Missed Call from Joe

And it all suddenly feels real, a sense of dread fills your throat, and you can only imagine that it must be an emergency if both Astrid and Joe have called. Your mind races. It can’t be about Joe – if he called too, right?

The severity of the situation forces you to sit up straight as you steal a glance Luca’s way. You’re grateful that he’s such a heavy sleeper as you peel the covers back, tiptoeing out into the living room so that you don’t wake Luca. Your fingers shake as they hover over Astrid’s name, before tapping down on the screen so that you can give her a call back. 

It only rings twice before Astrid answers, a tiredness in the way her voice sounds, as if she hasn’t slept all night. 

“Hey, Astrid. What’s going on?” you ask, a panic that colors your voice as you wait for her reply. 

The anticipation builds in every moment of silence she leaves between the two of you. 

“It’s mum. Ehm…” she trails off, her voice breaking. 

No. 

It’s as if your worst nightmare is coming true – like no matter how many times you’ve rehearsed this scenario in your head, prepared for it, braced for it, nothing softens the blow of the words that Astrid utters. 

“She’s gone. She passed. Early this morning,” Astrid finally says, a sob following. “We’re still at the hospital right now.” 

As Astrid begins to cry, you let her, even though you feel like you can’t breathe. Through her tears, she tries her best to explain what happened and you can feel yourself going numb as you listen. You can barely process what she’s saying as the words wash over you, a deep pain building in your belly with each detail she shares: that mum hadn’t been feeling well late last night, that she had a fever of 104 F and that’s when they knew she had to be taken to the hospital, that she passed a few hours later. 

It was sudden. 

It was quick. 

And now, Astrid’s whole world – your whole world, and Joe’s – has changed forever.

All you can do is attempt to breathe, to listen, and try your best not to drop your phone as your hands tremble.

You can feel it, a sickening feeling that wells up from your belly and into your throat as you croak out:

“Astrid, I’m so sorry.”

“After everything we’ve been through, all the rounds of chemo… I just can’t believe that overnight she’s gone,” Astrid whispers, tears falling down her cheeks. “I just-, I thought we’d have more time.”

“I know. Me too,” you agree quietly. 

It doesn’t feel real, and you wonder if you’re just in denial. 

“I’m so sorry to call like this. But I thought you should know,” Astrid apologizes, clearing her throat as she continues. “‘M sure I ruined your high from the all-night shag-fest with the hot pastry chef, now didn’t I?”

You chuckle, in response to her attempt to lighten the mood. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called,” you reassure her, your voice soft. 

“I’ve got to go. Joe and I are going to try to grab something to eat and ehm, try to get a hold of Lina. I’ll keep you posted on everything. On all the details, you know… about… anything we do,” Astrid informs you, trying her best to pull herself together.  

“But I just wanted you to know and ehm, well, I know Joe called.”

“No, I-. Yeah,” you stammer through, at a loss for words. “I… I’ll give him a call. And thank you… for calling me. Thank you for telling me.”

Astrid nods solemnly, “She loved you like one of us.”

You swallow, as a stream of tears streak your cheeks 

“Yeah I… I love – loved – her too.” 

You clear your throat, unaware that your hands have begun to shake. 

“And please keep me posted. I’d like to be there… at the funeral. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“‘Course,” Astrid agrees. “I love you. Call you later?”

“Please. And… yes,” you say, adding if it’s a promise:

“I love you too.”

As soon as you hang up the phone, it’s as if your body knows something you don’t – like your brain hasn’t quite processed the news, racing your body to intellectualize everything you’ve just heard, so your body has to take over instead. Your stomach flips, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. You sprint to your small apartment bathroom, throwing the toilet seat up with a clang as you begin to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet, in an uncontrollable physical response.

The sound of you retching, coughing up the last of it, seems to wake up Luca. You brace yourself against the toilet, flushing it as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your body feels fragile and your mind races as you reach behind you for the towel that lays folded over your towel bar, clutching it towards you. 

“My love, is everything alright?” you hear his voice, as Luca stirs, sitting up in bed. 

The sound of his footsteps heading towards you fill your ears, and as they get closer and closer to you, Luca appears in the doorway, his eyes squinting from how jarring of a wakeup he’s just had. You look up at him, noticing the way his face has twisted itself into a look of concern, swallowing as you rack your brain, searching for a way to explain what just happened. 

“Well, the good news is that I’m not pregnant,” is all that comes out, in sheer disbelief that you’ve chosen to make a joke at this moment. Luca only looks more concerned, more worried, more confused, so you shake your head this time, muttering an apology under your breath. “Uh… remember when I told you… my ex’s mom… she got really sick and we had to move to the UK because of it?”

“Yeah,” he answers, unsure of what this has to do with why you’re stuck to the bathroom floor. 

“I-. Astrid, his sister, just called. She uh…” you trail off, because it feels like you can’t get the words out of your mouth – like if you say it out loud, it’d make it all the more real. 

Your voice, this time much somber, croaks out the words, and you feel sick to your stomach again.

“She passed… last night,” you finally say again, a wave of nausea coming over you. 

“Oh, my love,” Luca sighs empathetically, as his heart falls at the news. “I’m so sorry.”

But before he can say anything else, you’re folded over the toilet once more, caught up in a competition with your own body of which could be worse: dry heaving or vomiting. Instead of leaving, Luca takes a few steps towards you, sitting down next to you as he rubs soothing patterns across your back, as you work this out. What feels like forever, and simultaneously, barely a few seconds, your back is pressed against the wall as you try your best to get your heart rate back down. 

The cold floor and the rigid wall that you’ve pressed your back against feels grounding, perhaps the only thing tethering you to this world. Luca sits with you quietly, but his presence can be felt in tonnes. It’s strong, steady, comforting, with care and love in every single touch and touch he sends your way. 

After a few minutes of letting you stare at the wall blankly, Luca gets up, kneeling on his knees as he offers his hands to you. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you some water and back into bed,” Luca suggests. “I’ll call Jesper and Mathilde. Let them know you’re not going in today.”

You nod, sliding both of your hands into his as he helps to your feet. 

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

“How are you doing, babe?” Luca asks you, as you wake up from your nap. 

You’re grateful that he called in today, after the news, and called in for you as well. After your phone call with Astrid, not to mention hurling the entire contents of your stomach (and then some) into the toilet this morning, you’d crawled back into bed and fallen asleep. It hadn’t been great sleep – more so an avoidance mechanism than anything else, you realize – as you begin to come to. 

“Jesper was just here. Came by to drop off food,” Luca adds, as you move onto your side so that you can face him. “They’re worried about you.”

“I’m not hungry,” is all you manage to say. 

He nods, “For later maybe.” 

He pauses, before repeating his question from earlier. 

“How are you doing? What can I do?

You think it over, only slightly upset with yourself for being annoyed at his question. Of course he’s only trying to be helpful, only trying to care for you through this horrible thing. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do to take your pain away either, which, it’s silly you know, is what bothers you so much about his ask. 

But as you look over at the man who wants nothing more than to love you, and you know he’s only trying to be helpful in an unwinnable situation.

You muster up your best smile, because you want to reassure him that you’re sort of-kind-of-okay, and you’d rather try than be a jerk right now. 

“Come back to bed?” you ask him, your voice lifting at the end of the question. “I think I just want you to hold me.”

“Sounds like something that could be arranged,” Luca replies with a smile on his face, in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little. 

As you lay on your side, Luca curls up behind you, engulfing you in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, tangling his legs with yours underneath the covers. And you’re right. It does make you feel better – being held by him – and you’re glad that you chose not to push him away. 

After a few beats, and a thick silence between the two of you, Luca finally speaks again.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

Do you?

You debate with yourself whether or not you want to, because on one hand you feel weird about it – asking Luca to listen to you talk about how much you loved your ex husband’s mother – and on the other, you’re afraid. 

Afraid it’ll hurt too much. 

Afraid it may break you open. 

Eventually, the part of you that leans towards saying ‘yes’ wins, as you answer with:

“Yeah. I think that might be helpful.” 

Luca nods behind you, before nuzzling his nose into the space between your neck and your shoulders. He leaves soft kisses against your skin that have no intention of being anything but a comforting gesture. 

“Astrid said something on the phone earlier. That she loved me like one of them,” you start, your voice caught in your throat as you say it. 

“And she did. She embraced me as her own… like…” you trail off, chuckling as you recall your favorite memories of Aiko Kimura. 

“She was beyond upset to learn that I didn’t grow up pleating dumplings around the table when I was a kid, which was… I think maybe the first thing we ever cooked together. She pulled out all the stops. Made a huge thing of it and made Joe, Astrid, and Lina join us so that I could get the real family experience.”

“And every time after that… she always wanted to teach me something new, something I could learn, carry with me,” you continue, the memories so fond and the feeling so bittersweet. 

“She was all about… slowing down, using the senses, no-recipe kind of stuff. I think it’s where I got so much of my heart from. In my food.”

You’re really not sure how you’re keeping it together, but, you decide, you might as well lean into the sweetness for now. 

“I should do a dish. For her. At the restaurant,” you declare, coming to the conclusion as the words leave your lips. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Luca agrees, leaving another soft kiss along your shoulder. 

“To honor her. You know?” you add. 

Luca only hums in response, his arms wrapped around your frame holding you tighter against his chest. 

You wait a beat. 

Then another, your thoughts, moving a mile a minute from being plunged into grief from this devastating loss. 

“I’m nervous – about going to London,” you confess, softly. You like to ask, usually, if it’s okay – if Luca wants to hear about these kinds of things – but it feels virtually unavoidable. 

“I haven’t been back since Joe and I divorced… since I moved here. But I think I should. For the funeral.”

“Do you think it’ll be soon?” Luca asks, as you turn your head to look at him, checking that this is a conversation he’s willing to have. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I’m waiting for Astrid to tell me. But Lina’s, their youngest sister, has been studying abroad – Singapore – so… I don’t know.”

“I’m just nervous… about it all, I guess. A lot’s changed. I’ve… changed.”

At this point you’re just thinking out loud, no longer able to contain the stream of consciousness that flows from with an ease that makes you anxious. 

Of course, you’ve changed. You have a new life here. You’re a you that you’ve never been before, having shed the layers of your past self like a snake shedding its skin. The realization is striking, while your ambivalence to return to your previous home in your new form feels more and more significant. 

It’s Luca’s turn to be quiet as he thinks over whether or not the idea in his head is appropriate to suggest, figuring, the worst thing you can do is say ‘no.’ 

“I could go with you,” he offers, quiet, yet sure. 

Oh. 

“But if you don’t feel like it would be right… under the circumstances…” Luca continues, in fear of making things more complicated for you. 

“No I-. What do you-, like… in what capacity?” you interject, hesitant about the question that you’re bringing up. 

You’re not sure why it’s taken this long for either of you to articulate it, especially since you’ve already called him your boyfriend to your friends, to your mom, but the naming, the voicing of the sacred label is still something you haven’t done. 

You don’t want to overcomplicate things, considering it already feels complicated, so what you’re really asking him is:

How would I introduce you?

“I was thinking… as your boyfriend,” Luca answers, slowly. “But if you think it’s too much – introducing me during this-.” 

“No, I. Yes! I want to,” you’re quick to reply, reassuring him that you’re still all in, even in the midst of this loss – especially in the midst of this loss. You wiggle your body so that you’re now facing him, your chests pressed together, and you wonder if he can feel yours pounding away. 

“Yes. I want you to come. I… I want to introduce you to them… to everyone, as my boyfriend.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Luca leans in to press a short kiss to your lips before nodding in agreement: “Okay.”

You wait a beat, almost as if you think he’ll take it back, considering the circumstances. Only, he doesn’t, so you have to ask. 

“You would really do that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, simply. 

“I mean.. It’s just going to be a lot. It’s… a fucking funeral,” you continue to list, giving him every ‘out’ that you can possibly think of. “And you’d have to meet Joe. Which I can only imagine will be incredibly uncomfortable considering the circumstances and I’m not even sure what to expect because Joe and I have barely talked in months and I-.” 

You know you’re rambling, but you can’t help yourself. 

“Luca, I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to, my love. I offered,” he says, as one of his hands cradles your head, his eyes on yours. 

“Plus, I don’t have to be with you the whole time. I know it’s going to be a tough trip for a lot of reasons. I could give you some space while we’re there too, so you don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll go see my mum, catch up with a friend….”

His reassurance seems to quell your nerves and you’re no longer panicking (as much) about introducing your people to your new boyfriend while grieving the loss of their matriarch. But you want him there. You so want him there. You want his support, and when he’s so willingly offering it to you, volunteering to enter the lion’s den with you, how can you say ‘no?’

“Why are you so good to me?” is all that comes out of your mouth. 

“Because I-,” Luca begins, pausing as he carefully chooses his next few words. You watch as he debates with himself, his decision clear when he opens his mouth again to say:

“Because you deserve it, babe.”

It’s then and there that you wonder what he was going to say before, half expecting him to say, ‘because I love you.’ 

But he doesn’t, and in some ways, you’re glad that whatever internal decision he made, that it wasn’t that. It’s not that you don’t want him to, because you’ve been feeling it too. It’s in every pause before you hang up the phone with him. It’s in the moments that you say your goodbyes for the morning or the evening that you watch the impulse, though fleeting, flash through his eyes. It’s in the way that you feel it so deeply in your bones that it makes you ache in the best kinds of ways. 

 You don’t want your first ‘I love you’ to be tainted with the grief and sadness surrounding this moment, but it’s been on your mind ever since your trip to Skagen. You think maybe you dreamed it, hearing him call you the love of his life, but whether or not it was real, those three words have hung heavily between the two of you ever since. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, before you repeat it again. 

“Thank you.”

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

Everything feels off. You can’t cry. 

And you’ve tried. 

But ever since Luca left to run an errand, to run to the store, you’ve felt off-kilter. 

Perhaps it’s because you’ve had him to distract you this whole time. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re trying to be strong for everyone: for Astrid, for Lina, who you’ve been texting with all day – trying to coordinate a time to FaceTime – for yourself. 

Perhaps it’s because you haven’t called Joe yet. 

But, you’ve decided, you really need to cry. 

You pick up the phone, knowing exactly what you need to do, knowing exactly who you can let yourself completely fall apart with. 

The phone rings a few times before the person on the other line picks up, and as soon as you hear the silence on the other line, waiting for you to speak first since you called first. 

“Mom?”

And she can hear it in your voice as it breaks, concern and worry filling her every word and she asks: 

“Oh sweetie. What happened?”

And finally, you can let go.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 21

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

To decide my future as his lover, Roger gave me one final trial.

—However, I was still unaware of one unshakeable truth hidden from me.

--

Alfons: I wonder if that man’s revealed something important to Kate.

Elbert: Something important?

Alfons: The cost that comes with that man’s egoistic way of life.

Elbert: …

There was a hint of sorrow in Elbert’s downcast eyes.

Elbert: Is that…something that will make Kate sad if she knew?

Alfons: Yes, if you were to liken it to a fairytale… It is the worst kind of ending.

--

Roger and I started working making an antidote for the condemned.

…But making it was more difficult than we imagined.

Roger: …The hell…

We had repeated the experiment many times, but it always failed whenever we got close.

Roger: Ahhh, can’t even find a clue.

(Roger looks so troubled…)

Roger: …The Privy Council and the Royal Hospital’s doctors used my research materials to synthesize a drug and then were poisoned by it. Meaning, if we reverse engineer it, then we can make an antidote.

Roger sighed as he thought over his past experiments.

Roger: But we haven’t been able to. What are your thoughts, Kate?

(Thinking about it in simple terms…)

Kate: We made a mistake along the way. Or…Oh, perhaps our process has been wrong since the beginning? What if they used a method other than what’s in your research…!?

Roger: Yeah, well…that could be why we can’t make an antidote. It’s highly likely those guys combined my research with “someone else’s”.

Kate: What do you mean “someone else”?

Roger: If I knew, then it wouldn’t have been this difficult.

Meanwhile, the criminals’ symptoms were getting worse. Worst case scenario, they die before they can even be condemned.

(Like Roger said, we “ can’t let them run away by dying”)

(We need an antidote immediately…)

Time was limited.

I frowned as I started getting impatient…

Kate: Wooooah…

Roger’s pressed against the crease between my brows with a finger.

Kate: What was that for?

Roger: It was messing up my cute puppy’s face. Your earnest nature’s a good trait, but don’t overthink.

We’re already short on time

But I’m feeling frustrated

I don’t want regrets… +4 +4

Kate: I don’t want regrets…

Roger: Time’s running out so how ‘bout we don’t think for now. That’s how most would feel, right? Though surprisingly, taking a step back can be a shortcut.

Roger grinned.

Roger: So how ‘bout you take a break and run an errand for me?

Kate: An errand?

Roger: Yeah, it’s a kind of errand only you can do. I’m gonna keep researching, but I got someone to go with you—

Before he could even finish his sentence, the lab’s door opened.

Alfons: What is it. Why are you calling people over all of a sudden?

Roger: …See?

(—Alfons of all people?!)

--

The errand Roger wanted me to run was—

To buy flowers to lay on Lance’s grave at the public cemetery.

It was something I didn’t manage to do the other day because I got kidnapped.

(The fact that I wasn’t able to visit Lance’s grave was something that’s always lingered in the back of my mind)

(Roger must have noticed and decided to send me on this “errand”)

Despite how straightforward he was, Roger looked after others.

Kate: …

I placed the flowers in front of his grave and closed my eyes.

In my mind I saw Lance’s faint smile. He had left this world without knowing that he was cursed.

(...Rest in peace)

(May you meet your sweetheart in heaven)

I then opened my eyes and twilight winds swept my hair.

I followed where the wind blew as I looked over the graves.

(So many people are resting here…)

It would be nice if all deaths could end with a “happily ever after” as beautiful as the and the ones in fairytales. 

However, life wasn’t that simple.

(I wonder how many people lost their live while holding despair in their hearts)

Kate: …

When an inescapable sadness gripped at my heart—

Kate: Woah! Hey! What do you think you’re doing Alfons?

I quickly covered my ear and the person who had just breathed on it frowned in disapproval.

Alfons: Oh my, what an accusatory reaction. Had you been feeling sentimental for any longer, you may have been taken to the underworld. I was only bringing you back to reality.

Kate: …Um, thank you?

I was baffled, but thanked him and Alfons gave a shady smile.

Alfons: Yes, of course. You’re welcome. —By the way, Kate. Your month as Fairytale Keeper will be over soon. You will be out of the darkness and free! Please forget everything you’ve witnessed here and have a fresh start. Work hard once you’ve returned to your old life.

(Huh…)

I blinked like an idiot at his wide smile.

Kate: Um, I don’t have any plans on leaving Crown or my position as Fairytale Keeper.

(I haven’t told anyone about this, not even Roger)

(Why did Alfons bring this up…?)

Alfons: Meaning?

Kate: I still haven’t received Victor’s approval yet, so this is just my personal wish, but… I would like to continue being Fairytale Keeper after the month has passed. And I want to help Roger with his ongoing research on the Cursed.

I had planned to tell Roger that after we finished with the antidote.

Alfons: Though this decision is typical of an earnest woman such as yourself, it’s difficult for me to understand. Our curses are of no relevance to your life.

Kate: No relevance?

Alfons continued, no warmth in his voice at all.

Alfons: Yes, in the end, it’s someone else’s business. Did you know that you cannot work for the sake of others forever?

Kate: …It’s true that I’m not cursed. And I may never fully understand them. But…this isn’t someone else’s business. We met and you became someone important to me.

Alfons: …

Kate: Also, I’m not just saying this out of altruism.

(There isn’t a single part of me thinking about sacrificing myself…)

My desire is—

Kate: I’m…definitely the one that wants to see Roger overcome despair the most. 

Alfons: That muscle-glasses egoist is leaving your valuable life with. I find it difficult to believe. You haven’t forgotten about our fated “tragic ends” have you?

Kate: Well—

I was about to tell him that it wasn’t something I’ve ever forgotten about, but a sense of discomfort held me back.

Alfons: Roger is doomed to be “ruined by his own guilt”... I do wonder what sort of destruction awaits him. Ah, it’s horrifying to even imagine it.

(...There’s something strange)

(Alfons has had nothing but harsh words today)

(It’s like he’s trying to make me mad…)

Normally, I’d feel offended if someone doubted what I said in confidence and tried to discourage me.

(Yet, I don’t feel angry or annoyed)

Instead, it was like he—

(It was like he was trying to free me from getting my feelings hurt. At least, that’s what it felt like to me)

Kate: …Alfons. Is there a reason why you’re trying to stop me from continuing on as Fairytale Keeper?

Alfons: …Aha! Do you think I’m some sort of saint?

Kate: Please don’t avoid the subject.

There were still many more truths I didn’t know about them and Crown.

(Even so…)

Kate: I’m a Fairytale Keeper. …I may be inexperienced, but I do know that you’re the type to hurt people.

Alfons: You insist on believing that there is good in me. I like your views. Then, I shall live up to your troublesome expectations. —Kate.

His voice when he said my name carried a different feeling from before.

Alfons: If that man did not have very long to live, would you still choose to stay by his side?

Kate: ——Huh?

--

When we returned from visiting the cemetery, I stood in front of Crown Castle.

(I need to go back to researching, quickly…)

But what Alfons said continued replaying in my head and I couldn’t move.

(...I can’t go back inside yet. Not when I’m not sure if I can act normal in front of Roger)

At that moment—

Ale: Woof.

As if to rescue me, a cute, fluffy mass came running toward me.

I picked Ale up and headed to the palace library.

(There’s not a lot of people around, it’s quiet, and I’m less likely to run into someone)

(Let’s calm down for the time being…)

I walked around and browsed the shelves to distract myself.

However—Alfons’ words still continued to replay in my head.

His POV | Next

[velvet-gloom]

My first playthrough of P5R had me max out Makoto’s romance literally the day before stealing Sae’s heart and now I’m just imagining what that whole experience must have been like for them

They confess their feelings after growing closer and then have just enough time for a night together before doing their most dangerous heist, both knowing that if things go wrong, they’ll never see each other again. Makoto can’t stop worrying about all the shit the police are doing to Ren, and more than anyone she’s afraid when she sees the news about his apparent suicide. Then she finally gets to see him for the first time since his fakeout death and they have this quick moment where they realize “oh shit, we didn’t tell anyone else we’re together and now just feels like a really bad time to casually mention that” so she can’t even tackle him with a hug and yell at him for how much he scared her. They have to wait for an actual chance to be alone before they can even properly process everything they’ve been through from the perspective of them as a couple, and the first time they get that chance it’s just them crying together and hugging each other so tight it almost hurts.

It’s probably around that point that Ren realizes that he’s not used to having someone genuinely worry for him like that, ESPECIALLY after Shido ruined his life and he got dumped in a new city. He has this moment of “oh my god this girl cares about me more than I even knew was possible and I would do anything she asked if I could get her to stop crying.” He starts apologizing and saying that he doesn’t deserve her and she immediately fires back that she doesn’t deserve him, and then that turns into them each saying how amazing they think the other is and the crying turns into laughing. Then they laugh even harder when they realize they still need to figure out how to tell everyone else

[obsidianpen]

Tell me Tom is bad at feelings without telling me.... Loved your new B&G chapter, kinda knew that we'd have to see the Dark Lord version of Tommy sometime soon, but didn't think it would be THAT soon. I want my fluff back.

Anywho - kinda funny that he's all in Hermione's face about being her 'Master' when he's quite literally a slave to that WAP. I think Hermione needs to put him in his place ASAP. Here's hoping that whatever they see in the vision really shows just how 'worthy' she is of being his equal.

I am also honestly jealous of all the people that are able to fantasise about the ending - I honestly have no idea and I'm loving it.

My only (silly) question is - will the lines ever stop spreading? It's clear that they are literally everywhere (thanks Tom), but surely they are running out of space to spread?

Also - the hand shaped mark on Tom's chest that Hermione did - are they somehow connected? Sorry I know that's 2 question.

Feel free to ignore them if they are too spoilery! x0x0x

okay I’m glad someone else sees this too haha! Yeah, so not to get to into revealing toms inner turmoil (if you don’t like knowing what’s going on in his head stop reading this),

but I’m totally about to ramble big time because I think a lot of people are missing this. Lots of comments like ‘he’s such an asshole!! How dare he!!!’ Well. Toms definitely spinning. And can you blame the guy? He went from getting a bouquet of symbolic wildflowers from hermione that was even sweeter than she realized (he often gave flowers to his clients as a shop boy, and he even stole some for her accidentally - never imagined once in his life that he’d ever get any - yes because he’s a guy but also because he has a lot of hang ups, he is not used to gifts, he gives things to manipulate and he takes the things he wants), and after deciphering all that realizing (even if he wouldn’t say as much) that he’s fucking down so bad for this witch, fully enamored, must keep. And THEN she’s sick and THEN she doesn’t take his nice ‘take a nap, love’ potion and THEN she gets kidnapped by Dumbledore and the freaking MACUSA and THEN he’s pleading with freaking Hepzibah like some lovesick peasant for help and THEN, when he’s knee deep in imperious curses and dark marks and internationally kidnapping metamorphagi bartenders, THEN, while retrieving her wand from the Ministry despite how tricky that is (like a true gentleman)… he finds out this bitch stole his ring. Which means she knew about his horcrux (well it was horcruxes but he didn’t know that then poor lamb) and in his mind, the only reason anyone would go after a horcrux would be to destroy it. Tom had to process a lot, still had to save her because he can’t have this seer who knows all about him in Dumbledore’s clutches, had to short term delude himself into pretending everything is totally fine until he gets her out, that whole grand escape thing happens, and THEN she wants to give him a blowjob??? Which he’s never trusted anyone to do, let alone this witch he’s obsessed with who destroyed his SOUL??? Who at this point he thinks is a world class psychopath, btw - but he lets it happen because even in his most crazed moments, he’s actually exactly what you said. And he knows it deep down, but can’t accept it, so yeah, he’s doing the whole ‘have to reassert my dark lord dominance’ thing, and while a lot of people reading seemed really hung up on him being a manipulative asshole (rightfully so, this is him), there was also a lot of pretty blatant worship in that chapter too (and in case this has also escaped the general notice, Tom is actually obsessed with pleasing her)

[dichenlachmandaily]

[This article contains spoilers for the season 2 finale of Severance]

Severance has just wrapped its second season with an epic, 76-minute finale that will have fans obsessing over every detail for weeks to come.

Featuring a big band, a revolt, a romantic rendezvous and Gwendoline Christie going full Brienne of Tarth over some goats, the episode was a manic crescendo to the tensions that have been simmering since this strange show hit our screens in 2022. But is it a happy ending?

Deputy TV editor Meg Watson goes behind the scenes with Dichen Lachman, the Australian actress who plays Gemma.

MW: We finish this season with Gemma – having just been rescued from the testing floor – screaming for her husband, as Mark’s innie chooses the woman he loves. How do you feel about where Gemma ended up?

DL: That moment is so intense. I just keep feeling for the fans. I’m like, “Oh my gosh, they’re gonna be so torn!” As a fan myself, I’ve fallen in love with all of these characters in one way or another, and I don’t know how I want it to end.

I love the ambiguity of it: there’s no clear right or wrong decision for Mark or even any clarity about what his choice will mean for him and Helly. It must be so bewildering for Gemma, though.

Oh my god. For her, it’s unbelievable. I mean, can you imagine the husband and wife argument afterwards if they ever get out of that situation?

There’s this moment where her eyes land squarely on Helly and her expression drops. Does she recognise her as Helena? What’s going through her mind?

I don’t know what the writers have in mind but, for me personally, the choice I made was, “Oh, that’s not Mark. It’s someone else”. Gemma is having that sinking realisation that they’re all trapped in their own minds. You know, it’s that card in episode seven and also the one that Dylan steals from O&D: she sees a man fighting himself.

On some level, you want all the different consciousnesses to kind of know about each other. You want to believe that you can’t completely separate yourself to such a degree.

The music cue, The Windmills of Your Mind, speaks to that, too. The lyrics (about “half-remembered names and faces” etc) are obviously so fitting, but the song is also an allusion to The Thomas Crown Affair with Faye Dunaway and Steve McQueen – a cat-and-mouse romance that echoes Helly/Helena and Mark’s relationship. Did you know that would be the soundtrack when filming the scene?

No, I didn’t. But this show … I mean, it’s almost not TV. To me, it feels like cinema. The way that people approach making this, it’s filmmaking. The quality and the talent involved in every single department is extraordinary – hair and make-up, production design, set decoration, props, production design, the music, the camera department. It goes on and on. Hundreds of dedicated, talented people. It’s like a very long movie, in a way. Not to be disparaging, but I feel like the filmmaking in Severance almost tops some of the top movies out there in terms of the talent involved.

Ben Stiller, who directed the episode, is amazing to work with. He’s just extraordinary. And he’s extraordinary at picking really amazing people, and giving people the space to let their talent shine. I feel like I got really lucky.

Your rescue scene must have been such a complex sequence to shoot. Can you tell me about the filming process?

That day was just really intense. Not only was it such a big emotional moment but, technically, it was probably the hardest thing I’ve had to do on the show. I had to do a lot of zolly transitions [which creates the distortion effect you see when people transition to their severed selves] that were unlike the others. Most people are standing still when the camera is moving, when they transition from innie to outie, which is easier because you need to be right in the centre all the way through the shot. But I had travel much further, taking lots of steps – and when you’re walking, obviously you become shorter and taller with each movement.

I just kept thinking, “Oh, my god, I’m gonna get fired”. It was so hard! I’m good at technical stuff. But it was just so difficult in terms of hitting your mark and trying to stay the same height all the way through the shot, while also going through all that emotion when you come out of it – from Gemma to Ms Casey to Gemma again. It was like acting gymnastics.

What did you know about Severance going into the show? I can’t imagine they advertised the role as a corporate wellness director/kidnapped Russian literature professor, with 24 other hidden identities.

I literally knew nothing. The notes for the character were so ambiguous and when I got the material to read for the part, I was like, “What is this?” I had absolutely no context and no idea why she was saying these things. It made no sense to me. That kind of thing happens a lot in our business though, especially with things that are at a high level.

It wasn’t until I got further down the road and Ben wanted to meet me on Skype that I found out. I grew up watching his movies, and I was absolutely … I don’t know if I should swear, but I was very nervous. Then it was a very long time between that moment and getting the scripts. I received all the scripts at once, while I was isolating in the hotel bubble for Jurassic World Dominion, and I couldn’t put it down. I stayed up all night finishing the show. It just captivated me on a level that nothing else ever has.

I was wondering at what point that kind of information is revealed to you! I could imagine another director choosing not to tell you the season one reveal, so you fully play Ms Casey as the innie, not knowing anything at all.

Right? Exactly. Essentially, if the technology works, she doesn’t know anything. But as a performer, it was helpful for me to know.

Were you just as clued in for the twists of season two?

This season was a little bit more like a normal TV show where the scripts come out as you’re filming. But I think that the creative team is very good about only telling you, the actor, what they think you need to know.

Sometimes people ask, “Oh, what do you think is going on at Lumon?” I’m like, “Well, I have my own fan theories. I actually don’t know the answer!”

The obsession with the mystery in this show is something we haven’t really seen since Lost. There are endless theories about how and why Gemma was taken by Lumon (The Twilight Zone references of episode nine have some people thinking she’s not human at all), what the completion of Cold Harbor would actually achieve for the company, and the true size of the Eagan dynasty (is Ricken a secret Eagan?) But the ending doesn’t give us more closure on any of this, instead focusing on the relationships. Do you think Severance is really about the mystery? What do you think is at the heart of the show?

At the heart of every good show that people really respond to and invest this amount of their time in is just the humanity. It’s really just about being human, you know? Those feelings of wanting to not experience something unpleasant, not wanting to deal with things, shutting down. Also, the larger themes about our society, in terms of corporate culture, or just the rules we all decide to believe in – the construct of our little societies. There’s so much commentary about our world and also those really human elements. I think that’s what really gets people inspired, and also because it’s so beautifully executed.

Let’s do one nerdy question … There’s a lot of discussion on Reddit about the possible meanings behind the testing floor room names – from Wellington to Allentown to Cold Harbor. But there’s also one called Adelaide, your hometown. Is that a shoutout to you?

Oh my gosh, I was thinking that when I was on the set! I meant to ask the writer, Dan Erickson, if he did that on purpose and I never got around to it. I’m so glad you noticed, though. That’s awesome. You know, so much effort and time from so many people that no one will ever hear of went into this show. The fact that you and other people are so invested, it just makes everyone feel like all that work was absolutely worth it.

Severance is now streaming on Apple TV+.

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter six

| discontinued until further notice

| previous

masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

a/n: !! chapter warnings !! PTSD, unintentional s*lf-harm / It is NOT gonna get better for her XD!!!!

You woke the next morning to Layla scurrying around the room you slept in. You weren’t surprised to see the woman here. You knew she would’ve been hot on your tail the moment you left London. “Layla?”

You noted how hoarse your throat felt as you slowly sat up with a groan. The woman stopped in her tracks and quickly made her way over to you with a soft call of your name. “How are you feeling? I started to get nervous about whether you were going to wake up or not.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you shook the drowsiness away.

Memories of what happened the previous day came flooding back and you looked down at your bandaged hand. It was clear it had been cleaned and rewrapped but there was still confusion floating within your mind. “What do you mean you were nervous? I just slept through the night.” Layla sat at the end of the bed with a look of pity. “You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

A few beats of silence followed before you shot to your feet…almost pushing Layla off the bed in the process. “TWO DAYS?!” And as quickly as you got up…you fell down. All the blood rushing to your head, causing black dots to encase your vision. If it weren’t for Layla catching you, you would’ve fallen to the floor.

The woman hissed out your name with worry as she slowly sat you back on the bed. “The Scarab? Harrow? Marc?” His name left a bitter taste in your mouth as you dropped your head into your hands. You remembered what you said…what you did. Layla rubbed your arm silently. “I’m guessing Marc told you what happened?” You asked without lifting your head.

A small hum of confirmation left the woman’s mouth before she spoke. “He was lucky we were in the middle of a market, otherwise I would’ve punched him.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips before you raised your head. “I can’t believe I snapped like that. J-Just Marc simply saying ‘sorry’ and thinking that would fix everything sent me over the edge. And Steven.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you sighed. “I can’t even imagine what he must think about me now.” You turned to Layla with tear-filled eyes. “He probably thinks I’m an animal.” Layla slightly shook her head and allowed yours to fall against her shoulder as she began to speak.

“I can tell you one thing, Marc deserved everything you gave to him. What he said was disgusting and shameful. We know that man is not easy and I’m surprised it took you so long to finally snap at him…but I am surprised he said sorry. I mean…Marc never took accountability for his actions like that.” As Layla continued to speak, you had moved your hands to wrap around her arm. “But he did it with you.” You felt her shake her head.

“I am not saying that what Marc did was okay, but it is clear that he does regret it. He regrets it because he cares about you.” A small grumble passed your lips as you snuggled closer to Layla. “What has he been doing while I was asleep?” You questioned. “Mostly running around trying to find leads. He just left this morning chasing after another. He’ll probably be back later.”

A few seconds of silence followed before you whispered. “Also…I may have confessed to him.” Another pregnant pause filled the air as Layla took your words in. “WHAT!?” Now, it was Layla’s turn to almost knock you over as she shot to her feet. There was always an unspoken thing between the two of you about how you felt.

She never got confirmation about your feelings towards the man, but she always knew something was there. And she knew it went both ways even if you didn’t. Now, that once unspoken thing was gone as you spent the rest of the morning talking to her about everything.

-

“KHONSHU MAKE IT STOP!” Your pleas meant nothing to the god as he gazed up towards the moon. The full moon. “You know this is your punishment for what you did all those years ago.” He spat the words out with hatred. “You are nothing but a disgusting dog.”

Then he vanished, leaving you pushed up against a wall as you buried your head into your knees. You could hear them…calling you…cursing you. “–YOU MONSTER–HOW COULD YOU DO THIS–YOU KILLED US–IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT–”

You tried to scream back at them, but each time they grew louder and louder until you eventually found a spot curled against the wall. Knees to your chest whilst your hands covered your ears in a futile attempt to drown them out. It didn’t work.

“–YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF DEAD–BEAST–MONSTER–MURDER–” Wails tumbled from your mouth as you rocked back and forth. Mouth wide, spewing apologies that would never be heard…eyes snapped shut but still seeing what Khonshu forced you to see.

You slid along the wall until your head pushed into the ground. Now, fully on your knees you began to smash your forehead against the floor. “stop…please stop…” was all that left your mouth with each hit. That’s when Marc finally made it back.

The moment he stepped out from within the pyramid and saw the full moon he was quick to make his way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he was too late. By the time he got there you had already busted your head open, causing a small puddle of blood to pool against the floor. Your cries came out low and cracked as your throat grew weaker and weaker.

“stop…please stop…” A lump lodged itself within his throat as he made his way over to you. He wasn’t going to abandon you…not again. Slowly, Marc bent down and said your name. His hand ever so lightly brushed against your shoulder as he spoke.

With one final smack you went still and the room went silent once more. “A-Are they here?” Your words dripped from your mouth in the smallest tone Marc has ever heard. He muttered your name once more. “No…no one is here. You’re okay.” Steven watched from inside and his heart never felt so heavy. You carried so much. Suffered so much.

Steven could feel the guilt growing in Marc’s chest but he didn’t know it was because Marc blamed himself for being so late. If he got here quicker the night would’ve been easier. You wouldn’t have slipped so far to the point you believed what Khonshu made you see was real.

He watched as you slowly lifted your head to look at him…and when you did a fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes. Tears of relief. In a blink of an eye you had launched yourself into the man’s arms with sobs. “You came back!” You wailed. Despite the blood, tears and snot that began covering his shirt he held you as if you would disappear with the wind. “I got you. I got you.” And he did.

With effortless movements, the man pulled you into his arms and led you to the bathroom where he cleaned your head. Then he moved to the bed where he pulled the covers over your heads like a child would in an attempt to hide from a monster. All while you clung to him. “Don’t leave me, Marc.”

The warmth from your breath crashed against his skin and created goosebumps. Your head was tucked into his neck as you curled yourself into his body. Hands clasping handfuls of his shirt. His chest burned as he placed a feather-like kiss upon your head. “I’ll never leave you again.” Was the last words you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

The warmth he offered melted away the cold that seeped through your bones with each passing second. As you lay tangled within his arms, Marc heard Steven softly speak. “You love her…don’t you?”

-

You woke up during the early hours of the morning. The sun barley began peaking over the horizon, slowly changing the dark sky into one filled with hues of yellow and orange. With lazy blinks your vision steadied as you sat up, careful of the arm that fell across your stomach.

The day after a full moon always left you in a strange state. A state in which you almost weren’t in your body. Like bits of your being floated around…desperate to return to you. The pain along your head didn’t help with the feeling either. The only thing grounding you was him.

You looked over your shoulder to look at Marc…and Steven. Quickly, you shut your eyes to combat the sting of tears. You were embarrassed…ashamed at what Steven saw. Marc was used to the full moons. He helped you through them so many times…but not Steven. Because of your internal struggle you didn’t notice the bed sheets move until you heard his voice call out your name.

You kept your back towards Marc as he sat up, the warmth provided by his arm disappearing as he moved it away. “H-How are you feeling?” His tone was lighter than a feather, almost as if he was afraid to spook you with anything louder. Your mouth opened to say something but the only thing that came out was a soft sob.

Marc sat straighter and hesitantly brushed his hand across your forearm. Then he said your name again, causing you to slowly look at him. The moment your eyes locked he watched tears pool over your puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, Marc.” His eyes saddened as he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” That’s when his gaze dropped. “I should’ve been there sooner. If I had, it might've not gotten so bad.”

That’s when he started telling you about the meeting with the gods. “I know you’re upset with me right now, but you have to know that I would never leave you alone during a full moon.” And you believed him. You believed him, because since your first full moon together he never left you alone. Marc watched as you wiped your tears away and slightly moved so you could face him better before replying. “I can never stay upset with you, Marc.”

The man took note of the new look that swirled in your eyes. You inhaled deeply before you gently cupped the man’s cheeks. Your eyes never leaving his as your thumbs lightly stroked his five o’clock shadow. “I could never stay upset with you because…” A soft gasp left your mouth when you felt his large hand graze your thigh as he leaned closer.

His scent made your head spin as your mouth ran dry, making it almost impossible to say what your heart burned to say. “I know.” Marc’s words kissed your lips with how close he had gotten. Both his and your breathing grew heavy with each passing second. Then, in the blink of an eye, the tension snapped and your lips crashed into one another.

The kiss was different from the one you shared with Steven to save him from a panic attack. While that kiss was gentle, this one was rough and hungry. Teeth clashed together while hands wandered. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands gripped your thigh and cupped your chin.

Your bodies were so close it was as if you would mold together. Despite the words going unspoken, both you and him knew just how much you meant to one another in that moment.

-

a/n: Sometimes I find it hard to write romance because I've never really felt it before so forgive me if it's kinda bad. Also finished writing and posted this around one in the morning sO.

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099 / @peachyrue-777 / @queerponcho / @aristokatastrophy / @phoenixgurl030

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀 because I need to know what’s going on…

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 still curious to see how you’re going to play this out

🗻🗻🗻🗻🗻🗻for fun!

Oh love this.

54 for 🔀:

---

Eddie nods quickly. “Good. Uh, that’s good. Good.”

He’s freaking out. Buck can’t blame him. Buck is also freaking out.

“Buck, are you a changeling?” Christopher asks. 

Everyone turns to gape at him. Buck’s jaw must honestly hit the floor. 

“What?” Eddie asks. “What are you asking him?”

“How do you know that?” Athena asks.

Evan snorts. “This child is the smartest of all of you.”

Eddie frowns at him. 

“It’s like in the books I’m reading, Dad. I told you this,” Chris says. 

“That’s a fictional series,” Eddie says. “That’s fantasy.”

“Well, clearly not,” Bobby says. “Eddie, it seems that… Well, you know about Buck’s kidnapping case…”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers. He shoots Buck a concerned look. “Of course.”

“Well,” Bobby sighs. He points at Evan. “It looks like this was the child who went missing, and Buck is the child they found.”

🟢

Buck has to excuse himself. 

He can’t hear it again. 

While Bobby and Athena explain to Eddie and Chris what happened, he steps out onto the balcony. He keeps to the back of it. To the shadows. He doesn’t want any of his neighbors to see him, if they step out, too. 

He feels frozen. He feels lost. Like waking up after being blackout drunk and not remembering how the hell he got where he is. This morning he was Evan Buckley. He was Evan Buckley and there was some freak out there pretending to be him. Now he’s not. He’s not Evan Buckley. He’s not anyone. He’s not even human. He doesn’t even want to say or think what he is, and even if he did, he doesn’t know what that means. Is he going to sprout wings? Is he going to be swept off to the second star on the right? 

This is ridiculous. This is stupid. He can’t even… He’s green! He can’t live his life anymore. 

---

42 for 🔼:

---

 "I don’t know. I spent a lot of time blaming myself for Christopher’s CP. Like I could have done something differently, and the birth would have gone fine, and he wouldn’t have had to have any challenges.”

Buck’s eyebrows crease. “Shannon, that’s-”

“Not how it works?” She fills in. “Yeah, I know. But that didn’t really change how I felt about it. So I understand if that’s how you feel about yourself, now. But it doesn’t make it true and it doesn’t mean your parents were right to treat you how they treated you.”

Buck exhales heavily.

“I don’t think you’ll feel better about it tonight,” Eddie says. “But Shannon’s right. So take the time to process that, okay? None of this is your fault or your responsibility.”

Buck nods. “I… I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“It’ll take time,” Shannon says.

Well, if his parents haven’t figured it out in nearly thirty years, yeah. He imagines it will.  

“Thanks, guys,” Buck mumbles.

“What about Maddie?” Shannon asks.

Buck tenses. “What about Maddie? She lied to me, Shannon. For my entire life.”

“It sounds like she was scared to tell you the truth,” Shannon says.

“So that’s an excuse?” Buck pulls away from her. “Maddie is supposed to be on my side. Our parents… It’s not like they were good to her either! They iced us both out, but we always had each other! Where is her loyalty?”

“What if it’s not about loyalty?” Shannon asks.

“How could it not be?” Buck demands. 

---

18 for 🗻:

---

Karen approaches him, towards the end of the evening. People will start to leave soon. Eddie can tell, because Artie and Daniel are starting to get whiny and tired. 

“I know it’s been said about a hundred times tonight, but I’m really so happy for you guys, Eddie,” she says. 

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Karen.”

“This is the best thing for Artie,” she says. “But you already knew that.”

“Does it make the worry go away?” He asks. “You know, of someone coming to take him away?”

Karen frowns. 

“Maybe a little? But… I mean, have you ever not worried about Christopher?”

“No,” Eddie admits. “I guess I figured that’s different.”

“I don’t have a biological child, so I can’t say. But I imagine you just worry. No matter what.”

[kayleighjennifer]

Beast (Patri Guijarro x reader)

⚠️smut⚠️

Today was the day. Your first champions league final of your whole career. Due to playing your whole life in Wolfsburg (and joining the senior team in 2019) you never made it into the finals.

This and the fact that you played your whole life in Germany lead to the decision to transfer at the start of the season to Barcelona to grow as a player. You never thought about how great life was there or that you would have to play against your former team in that champions league final, but here you are, doing pitch inspection next to the women you’re head over heels for and probably won’t feel the same for you, Patri Guijarro.

The next time you see Patri again is in the tunnel, she tells you calming words while massaging your shoulders. “We will win this and then we’ll go out and have the time of our lives okay?” She tells you and you nod, hugging her like it’s your last time being able to hug her. She presses a kiss onto your forehead and Irene gives you the last prep talk.

The first half was nerve wrecking, Wolfsburg was up by two and nobody from barca seemed to be able to put the ball into the net. You were one of Barcelona’s top scorer and still you had three shots who either got blocked or went wide.

You sit next to Patri in the changing room full of frustration while listening to Alexia’s and Jonatan’s words. When you feel Patri’s hand on your thigh you look up to her and see her smiling at you. “You will get that goal, believe me. You’re here for a reason and I can imagine that it must be hard for you playing against your old club but you’re home here, with Barcelona and with me. Go out there and smash it”.

“Thank you”. You hug her and press a kiss on her cheek. You and her were very close from the start, her being always there for you while settling in and you being there for her after she had a rough break up, but still there is sadly nothing more than friendship in your eyes.

The second half goes way better and it finally happens, Patri scored the first goal for Barcelona in this game. You’re fast by her side, hugging and giving her a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so proud of you, vamos!” You smile at her and she winks at you “that one was for you and now come let’s get more goals”.

Not even three minutes after her first goal, Patri scored another one and ten minutes after that Fridolina gets a goal as well.

You were all tired out by the end of the added game time but Patri still wanted to give you a chance to get your name on the screen.

You see Patri going forward with the ball and are on the other side next to Feli Rauch, directly in the box. She shoots you a high ball and you just let your instincts take over you while doing a beautiful header. Not even ten seconds after it, the whistle is finally blown.

You can’t even process everything when you’re pulled into Patri’s arm and Claudia jumping on your back. After the celebration of the pitch you go to your old teammates and tell them how good they played and that they can be proud of themselves.

Right now you’re in the hotel bar with the Barca squad and some Wolfsburg players, celebrating the final. You are talking to Ewa when you feel two arms sneaking around your waist and you can smell Patri’s perfume. “hello there” you say to her and wave Ewa goodbye. “Care to join me on the dance floor?” Patri asks and doesn’t even give you a chance to say now.

Your bodies are tight and you can feel her hands exploring your body. “Patri what are you doing?”. “I know you want me, you’re not very secret about it and I want you too. You’re all I can think about”. You don’t know from where your confidence is coming but you quickly say “then show it to me. Show me how much you think about me”.

She doesn’t even wait a second and already leads you to her hotel room, pressing you against the wall and kissing you like there is no tomorrow. You move your lips from hers to her neck, making sure to suck as many marks in it as possible. “god you make me feel so good cariño”. You blush at her words and she finally opens the door.

When the two of you reach the bed, she picks you up and lays you beneath her on the bed. Her lips never leave yours as she starts to undress the both of you. Then she starts teasing you until you’re begging her to finally fuck you.

She moves her fingers from your breast to your legs, so that she can open them more and positions herself onto your core. You moan when your clit touches her and she sighs satisfied. “That’s all I could think about since months. You drive me crazy amore”

[eatmangoesnekkid]

The Kill: To Come Fully Alive in Your Female Body is to Know How to Give Death Like a Country Woman Who Knows How to Process Her Home-Grown, Organically-Raised Chickens When It's Time

How I Reprogram My Cells With New Narratives Using My Imagination and After Care (My Gift to Readers On Tumblr)

I'm almost 48 years old and every month my body releases a healthy beautiful egg because it is still trying to have a big chunky baby.

I'm not peri-menopausal yet but will be using this year to reprogram my tissues with new narratives around menopause beyond the dehydrating stories I can feel trapped in my female line. The keycode here is that it takes time so you must begin now....early.

I'm deeply a strategic and proactive woman in all my fairy playfulness and do not dissociate from any cycle of my body or womanhood in any way. Instead I spend time reprogramming my cells and lovingly planting new narratives into my body, in this case, around the experience of menopause. No doctor will prescribe pills or other substances for my natural female cycles that I have already falling in love with. The keycode here is that your love for the process is essential.

I find comfort in the present moment and I also find comfort in imagining and projecting into the future. I do not fear menopause. I do not hold common expectations that it will be difficult or dry out my pussy or my libido will fall as the culture teaches. I am clear that I won't need hormonal medication. I consciously use my energy to envision myself in the details of what I desire in life as a radiant, flexible, wet, high libido, sassy, symptom-free menopausal woman. But I don't just envision, I feel the emotions of being radiant, flexible, wet, etc. OUR EMOTIONS CONNECT US INTO THE UNIVERSE.

I am often lightyears ahead of what we call "time." Ancient-future. I am planting cosmic seeds now BEFORE my menopause years and continue to take action in the desired direction through staying active and continuing to work on my flexibility and inner beauty—forgiving, clearing, letting go, and dreaming. “Yoh, the fuck you mean ‘wait and see, ’” I thought to myself after a woman waiting in line with me at the airport said that menopause will be the worst time of my life. I responded back in the gentlest manner, " Ma'am, my menopause will not be difficult and I will not feel hot nor lose my high libido.” Haha I said that to her and continued, “I'm not an average woman and anm already programming my future menopausal years in which I rest well at night and wake up aroused for the day. I appreciate your well-intentioned words but they do not apply to me nor do I consent to that experience. I’m such a weird one—not regular. Never been.” The keycode here is that you must be willing to cut people off at the neck who subtly lead life from a victimized position about their own bodies and attempt to place that same energy onto you, even with well-meaning intentions. She was a lovely woman otherwise —and I knew she meant well but I also knew that she giving me feedback on what lives deep in my body, in the hidden and unconscious. I can’t see it but I felt it in our interaction. Therefore I wasn’t really metaphorically cutting HER neck off. I was starting the journey of severing the part of my female lineage that feels the same way as she does. I will repeat this process over and over again in my imagination, then begin the journey of self-soothing my tissues and nervous system with lots of intentional massage, juicing, and rest. What we give death to is still a valuable part that our psyches will miss interacting with, a part that up to now has made us feel safe and held. Lots of self-soothing and letting our tissues know that we will be okay without this aspect of self are essential after care.

I always ask the earth for support and speak my desires into the orange trees as I'm picking fruit, walking through a park, or hiking. The keycode here is that you need initiate support from another divine authority, whether nature, God, your ancestors, etc.

I permit myself to see my future menopausal self being juicy and abundant.

I have always lived my life this way--often 2-3 steps ahead of the game, laughing and playing a lot along the way.

Too many women and other female bodied people are stuck and trapped by the trauma they have programmed to believe about themselves (their cells). It's important that you remember who you are--a magical woman and experience this reality lightheartedly, playfully, and magically accordingly. The keycode here is that your playfulness and lightheartedness help to release any resistances. They become your fuel and battery propelling you forward into your next level or landing you directly into a quantum leap.

Maybe you aren’t concerned about menopause yet but you can apply these key codes to any other aspects of your life. --India Ame'ye, Author