#i don't really know where to go from here actually

[egophiliac]

A-anime?

you know, sometimes I forget that Twst is actually an isekai that starts with the protagonist getting run over by an inexplicable horse-drawn carriage. and every time I'm reminded is a delight because that's AMAZING.

also. look. okay. there's a lot of very fun stuff in the trailer but I am obsessed with that Crowley surprised pikachu face. me when I spend all my keys and gems literally hours before they announce overblot SSRs and drop the anime trailer:

[zoieru]

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your lip balm / chapstick ~

Xavier ~

'what's that smell? it...doesn't smell like shampoo usually does.'

he's cuddling on the sofa with you and lifts his head, hair a bit fluffed from where he was tucked into your neck and chest, and his light eyebrows draw in at the centre trying to work out where it comes from.

'smell? Mm...its probably my lipbalm, Xavier, here,'

he takes it when you grab it and give it to him, rolling it over in his fingers to read any writing around the edge, head resting back against you again. he takes off the lid and sniffs it, eyes widening slightly before smiling a touch.

'its nice. does it taste good?'

he sort of asks without thinking of the double entendre at first, but a second later he realises and his eyes hold a flicker of mischief as he brings his face closer, eyes flitting to your lips.

'i dont know, you tell me?'

then he's all up in your business, eyes closing as he brings his lips to yours almost exploratory as when you try a new snack.

'mmh, yes. I like it.'

'good'

you plant a soft little kiss on the end of his nose to a cute blink and blushed chuckle from him.

over the next few hours he keeps coming back to kiss you more pointedly, more often, to a raised eyebrow from you. he likes the feeling and smell of it on his lips, it makes them soft and makes him think of you.

'Xavier you can take it if you want, i have a spar-'

'I don't want one.'

'but...?'

He only wants the thin soft coating of it on his lips when it means he's kissed you recently.

Rafayel ~

once this man catches drift of your scented lip balms he is all over that shit. he'll insist on going to choose ones, buying too many since you cant try them at the store, and then pouts when you tell him you cant face trying on and wiping off like ten different lip balms just so he can smell and kiss you over and over to see which one is best.

youre sat on the bed, the fading sunlight shining through the domed windows of your shared bedroom and onto this ridiculous pile of little cylindrical tubes on the duvet.

'but...'

'the scents will mix, and anyway lip balm is supposed to be nourishing, not causing my lips to be sore because ive applied and scraped off loads of different ones'

'well how am i supposed to know which one is the best then?'

'you'll have to wait and see i guess, i can put a different one on at few hour intervals, itll be like a fun surprise, you can guess which one i have on!'

'thats tooo longggg'

later you catch him applying one on himself in the bathroom, he just couldnt wait okay!! when you do put one on, he materialises at your side, hands running over your skin and finding their way to your jaw as if he could sense it from the other room, and he tilts his head with a little cute smirk.

'next taste test? this one's going to be good, i can feel it.'

Zayne ~

'here,'

he hands you one that he picked off the shelf next to you as you perused the options.

'what, you like this one?'

'i'm not familiar with it, but its important to use ones with more natural ingredients, especially when applying to sensitive areas like your face and mouth.'

'mmh, makes sense.'

you buy a few different types at his behest, and then he watches you try them and smell them as he puts his stuff away around the house.

'do you like them?'

'this one smells really good, actually.'

'mh?'

he's at your side, finding himself strangely excited to have another scent to not only feel and smell when he kisses you, but also to associate with you like he does with your hair stuff or your perfume.

'it does, you're right.'

he takes your chin in his other hands fingers, his usually gentle but firm touch, and then runs his thumb featherlight across the edge of your bottom lip, dark eyelashes lowering slightly as his eyes seem to both soften and darken at the same time.

'does it taste just as good?'

Sylus ~

'get all of them'

'Sylus, there are like fifty options here, why would I need fifty lip balms?'

he just shrugs, that annoyingly handsome smirk on his face as he feigns nonchalance.

'just trying to be supportive, kitten. no need to scratch now.'

'being supportive would be you helping me pick one'

'mmh, would it now?'

he was waiting to be asked, he's irritating like that. you rolled your eyes subtly and couldnt help the smile off his face as he on cue started analysing the options on the shelf with a discerning critical eye. after a silence, you pause, and glance at him sidelong.

'so?'

he points to a few in succession, speaking in a slow thoughtful sort of drawl as he ponders, playful yet serious simultaneously. It's an important decision, of course.

'too sweet, too floral, too colourful, too...is that glitter? i thought this was supposed to be health related, not glamourous. though i suppose a mix of both might be alluring. mmh...this one'

he holds it out to you, made up his mind. not stating his reason outright obviously. he looks down at you and eyes flick between your face and his choice, very subtly figuring out your reaction to his choice. as you leave the shop after buying, and go to put on your helmet to get on his bike, his hand comes to rest on top of it, stopping its path, and he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. You blink.

'hm?'

'well, come now, are you going to let me try the latest flavour of the lips i so often indulge in, or would you be cruel and have me wait?'

Caleb ~

so...lets say one day you're buying something completely unrelated, but you double take as your eyes happen to flit over some apple scented lip balm on the store shelf. You pause, nibble on your lip with a faint curl to the corners, and grab it and apply it on the way home. It's good...that apple scent that isnt too artificial or plasticky but also sweet and sharp enough to be noticeable and tasty.

Its hard to keep it in somehow when he gets home? its like a secret, which feels stupid, but he looks at you and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

'why you smilin', pips? what have you done?'

he asks, starting to laugh a bit at your face as you tried to keep it normal. it'll be like after a while where he wrestles you off the stove or something playfully that he'll catch a whiff. i mean he's obviously noticed your lips seem a touch shinier, but didn't think a whole lot of it except 'nice'.

'did you buy new perfume?'

'no...?'

'but...its appley over here, you got one in your ear or somethin'?'

he makes a point of sniffing around you like a dog as your giggling form is pressed back against the counter. then he pauses as his nose nears yours and a cheeky smile stretches across his face. his hand lifts and he runs the back of his fingers ever so softly over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

'ah, bullseye. so this is what you were giggling about earlier, you're so silly pipsqueak,'

'what? why?!'

'who gets all giggly about lip balm hm?'

he tilts his head, still in teasy puppy mode, though his eyes have softened and darkened as his face has come closer. as you pout he pokes your lips again with a smirk.

'mmh, an apple flavoured pout huh?'

he leans in achingly slowly to kiss you.

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your scrunchie

[koalemoslepus]

I use to work in professional fine jewelry sales but didn't last long for a myriad of reasons

Not insignificantly autism and a life long disdain for the wealthy -

But one of the reasons was I kept getting trouble for successfully recommending moissanite

Like

I dunno to me it was awesome

Fucking cloned

Space rock

Id be like Yeah Id prefer one

I'd leave out the unspoken but ever very loud parts of risking child slave labor on your finger cause like I wouldn't have the opportunity to change more outcomes if I-

Does it really bare repeating in a place like that ?

So I'd tell them in gushing coos how I'd like some enormous stone on my finger one day, maybe it could even be made by my partner ! They He's in Stem you know- so its romantic to think maybe a nice well air conditioned lab with health benefits like that could bring me both a stone and a home hahahahha-hahahahhaha- hahaha

Oh my glasses? The heart shapes ? Thank you- Yes they're prescription, yes I've worn a pair like them for years they're so fun aren't they- yes I do love pink , I can't wait for my big fat stone ring to match it -

Oh didn't you know with that big space rock you can get it in any shape and color you like, for a fraction of the price. No no it's practically the same hardness and clarity as the diamond , see look on this scale-

Oh what's that you don't like those spots in your diamond? Oh but that's how you know it's a natural , earth's little kisses you know hahahhaha- aaah

-Oh a diamond without them... of course of course uhm how about this- oh it's out of budget and a bit smaller than we'd planned okay well

This one then!

Oh I know I'm so sorry it's still smaller than what you hoped for but you see according this scale -

Labs? Of course I know it used to be a 4 letter word surrounding engagement rings but that's an old fashioned way of thinking about it that came from our grandparents, gold under the mattress that sort of things, diamonds really can't be bartered easily despite common myth, unless you're in some fantastical scenario where you must trade your ring for your life hahahaha -sweats in current political climate and distracts the Romani ancestors- but then it's really about appearances right??

Anywho we honor upgrades here whatever you chose and have been in business three generations, you'll get the most value from trading in with us later- as far as wear goes well chemically they're exactly the same, I should know I'll be engaged to a chemist soon enough hahahahahaha - ahahaha- -breathe-

Moissanite? -Does not acknowledge the predatory eyes behind my shoulder, who watches now like a tiger that sent its cub out but comes stalking when there's no blood to paint it's paws with, only squawks-

Well I'll add them to your next showing, sure alongside some labs just for comparison right? but I promise to keep searching for a naturally mined diamond that makes you happy,

They'll be in this time, this day- /tells them my availability and that of course anyone can help that anytime they come in but prays it's not Tuesday and Thursdays when the boss travels to come into the office/

A perfect showcase lines up in clear faced little boxes showing them all of the stones and ontop growing where stones shrinks is a price labeled in crisp black ink

Here are your drinks, I'll leave you two with them a moment and come back with my tools to more closely examine them in just a moment- Uh yes of course, you want to see which one in your band? Oh yes if you go with that one, you would be able to put diamonds embedded in your actual band or side stones even- what are we thinking let me grab the tablet. Here that's what that all looks like.....mm okay well lemme just flip the embedded gems to labs and- yes ? Yes? Yes we can look at wedding bands, now

you've got plenty of budget for both today don't you you're welcome dude horse to water much...

Yay! We all settled? Great! I love these choices!! Like I said I love moissanite too I think they're just so romantic, and look now you've only got to do the hard parts for the wedding hahaha aww thank you, team work yeah who'd thunk? (ME ME ME ME ME ME ME and that's with the fact I had to usually overcut lab prices so we could undercut earth mined diamonds margins by the 1000s of made up dollars worth hairs

To constantly keep tricking rich people or poor fucks who fell for the hype to buy them outta there

Fuck I hated working in jewelry

Oh and don't buy from the chains, thats another problem I faced with people being scared to buy labs because I legit had people come in with rotting out rhinestones (that I had to watch them recieve The Truth For) after spending what little savings they had so when they and everyone they knew were suddenly very guarded to getting anything other than a natural diamond cause someone HAD THE HEARTLESSNESS TO LIE TO THEIR FACE LIKE THAT BRUH like where I worked were villians surely if by trade than nothing else but like like but not irredeemable entirely. I can't even be like put that shit back in the earth cause that's pollution like -

told my girlfriend that if she proposes i want a secondhand wedding ring. i explained i don't want to contribute to a vanity-based industry like diamond mining, and that it would be important to me to continue marriage traditions in a way that causes minimal environmental and personal harm. she asked me if i was just trying to roll the dice on obtaining a haunted object, and i told her i can want two things.

[w2soneshots]

a saying bye to george before inside fic would be sooo cute :( maybe eith a little bit of smut too?

One week -George clarkey

words: 1.0k+

warnings: smut, head (fem rec), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, aftercare.

summary: before George leaves for a week to be on sidemen’s INside you and him spend a steamy night together.

notes: living for watching George on netflix every morning🙂‍↕️. Love this request, thank you babes🫶🏼. I hope you enjoy!!❤️‍🔥✨

Tomorrow George is leaving you for a week to participate in the sidemen's 'inside', a netflix television show where twelve people live in a house together with one million pounds up for grabs, though everything costs money.

When he told you he was going to be doing it you were so excited for him. Though, since you spend most of your time with him and you message whenever you're not together you knew you were definitely going to miss him.

You walked into your shared bedroom to see him packing. "Hi," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his torso. "Hello darling." He turned around, now looking down at you.

"You alright?" He asked softly. You nodded slowly before replying, "just gonna be weird not having you here." He squeezed you tighter in agreement. "I know, I'm gonna miss this face," he said, running his thumb over your cheek.

"What're you packing?" You asked once you'd broke apart, inspecting his suitcase. "An toothbrush-" you interrupted him with a chuckle. "What?" He smiled, confused. "Just, 'A toothbrush', still can't believe a Jeremy Clarkson quote has become apart of your daily vocabulary."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I don't know why I picked that up to be fair," he replied. You took a step closer to him with a bright smile. "I think it's hilarious."

An hour later he'd finished and had everything at the door, ready to go for the morning. He sighed deeply as he plopped himself down on your large, comfy sofa. "Done?" You asked, putting your phone down. "Done," he confirmed.

You spent the rest of the night watching a movie and cuddling after you'd ordered one last big takeaway, since George was most likely going to be on a diet of rice and beans for the foreseeable.

Somehow, as the credits of the film played in the background, you'd ended up on George's lap, while the two of you slowly made out.

"Not gonna see you for a whole week... a whole week without sex," he whispered into your ear. You breathed heavily, lips puffy from kissing as you took in his words.

Your sex life was un-fucking believable in the beginning and the flame just never really burnt out... meaning, -even though you weren't animals and could go a week without fucking each other- you knew when he came home you were going to get straight into bed.

"Mmm... yeah. We should probably do it twice to make up for it?" You smirked. "Definitely." He flipped you onto the couch and your back hit the cushions. "Ow!" You yelled. The vibe changed and George's face turned white.

You reached behind you and pulled the tv control from underneath your back and flung it onto the rug covering the floor. He immediately calmed and let out a breath of relief. "All good, continue." You both burst out laughing before getting back to business.

He reached a hand back to pull his shirt over his head, discarding it... somewhere, you weren't paying attention and didn't actually care. You hummed happily as he leaned down to pepper kisses along your collarbone.

The both of you were savouring the moment, though were completely naked within a few minutes. George slowly made his way down your body, leaving bright purple marks as he went. When he settled between your legs you ran a hand through his hair. "Sure?" You asked. "Always," he replied before placing a kiss to your clit, making you tense in pleasure.

"Oh m' god George...!" You moaned out as he ate you out. His tongue going from circling your clit to sliding down your folds to dip into your aching cunt.

"George, George, George," you chanted, extremely close to the edge, which he was well aware of, "don't stop- I'm gonna-" you sank back into the pillows as your orgasm overcame your body, vision turning white.

"That was- fucking-" "yes it was fucking, good analysis sweetheart," he teased as his face met yours once again. You giggled as you pushed his shoulder playfully. "Very funny, now are you gonna fuck me or should I go to bed?" "The first one," he replied quickly. "Thought so."

George grunted and his face twisted when he finally pressed into you. "Jesus- god- always so- hmf- tight baby," he husked as he reached the hilt. Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your skull at the sensation.

"Move George, move." Your arms and legs wrapped around him, heels pushing on his lower back. Without hesitation he pulled his hips back until just his tip remained inside of you, then he plummeted back into you.

His rhythm picked up and you met his thrusts as the room filled with your lewd sounds. "I love you- ugh- so fucking much y/n," he breathed out as your bodies collided over and over again.

"I'm gonna miss you- and this, you and this," you said as his thrusts grew sloppy and you approached your second orgasm. "y/n I-" "I know, me too. Come for me," you cut him off.

The both of you came hard, one after the other. His body fell onto yours. Your breath's heavy as you recovered from the last thirty minutes. Nether of you said a word as he got up, reached down, took you in his arms and walked towards the bathroom, your head resting tiredly on his chest.

"Okay?" He checked as he set you down on the toilet before leaving for a split second to grab two towels, then he moved to turn the shower on, steam beginning to fill the room from the hot water. "Yeah, incredible," you replied, voice quiet as you remained slightly dazed.

You got up and joined him in the shower a moment later, the water immediately making you feel ten times better and cleaner. "Here," he poured your favourite body wash onto a loofah and began running it gently over your body.

Five minutes later you were both clean, dry and lying in your bed, savouring one of your last moments together before he became a netflix star. "Night," you whispered, breathing in his scent as he cuddled you. "Good night gorgeous, love you."

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Epilogue (The End)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

And with that, we have reached the end. I could, as always, write a lot more, (And maybe eventually I will, but for right now, that's where we will leave Lando and Lizzie.)

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Twitch Stream Transcript – Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

[Stream starts]

Max: Right, chat. I know we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve seen things. We’ve survived things. But I don’t think any of you are ready for what’s about to happen.

Max: Because, somehow, defying all expectations, defying all logic—Lando Norris is actually here.

Chat: 

LIAR.

NO WAY.

PROVE IT.

MAX THIS BETTER NOT BE A PRERECORDED AI CLIP.

OH SO HE DOES EXIST.

IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS.

Lando: [over voice chat, deadpan] I hate you.

Max: Gasp. He speaks. It’s real. It’s happening.

Lando: You’re so dramatic.

Max: No, mate, I’m just telling it like it is. The last time we saw you, you were escaping the internet at full speed. Thought you retired. Went off the grid. Became a monk.

Lando: Yeah, well. Things got messy.

Max: Understatement of the year.

Chat: 

YEAH NO KIDDING.

THE INTERNET WAS A NIGHTMARE.

LIZZIE DESERVED BETTER.

MARAAA OUR QUEEN.

THE ABLEISM WAS SO BAD.

LANDO DEFENDING HER >>>

Max: So, how’s Lizzie?

Lando: She’s good. Writing, mostly. And making sure I actually sleep.

Max: A saint.

Lando: Obviously.

Chat: 

PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS.

SHE NEEDS TO KNOW WE LOVE HER.

I WANT TO SEND HER FANMAIL BUT I’M SCARED.

MARA POST WHEN??

TELL LIZZIE SHE’S A QUEEN.

Max: But mate, you really should’ve warned me before hopping on. Nearly had a heart attack.

Lando: Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Max: Didn’t think it was—oh my god. Chat, back me up.

Chat: 

IT IS A BIG DEAL.

HISTORIC MOMENT.

LORE DROP.

WE THOUGHT LIZZIE LOGGED YOU OUT FOREVER.

DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER YOUR TWITCH PASSWORD??

SHE PROBABLY DRAGGED HIM BACK HERE.

Lando: Actually, she’s in the kitchen right now.

Max: Oh, is she? What’s she doing?

Lando: Giving Mara peanut butter.

Max: …Oh no.

Lando: Yeah.

(And then, as if on cue, absolute chaos erupts in Lando’s mic—loud licking, snuffling, something knocking against furniture. A thump. A very happy dog making a complete racket.)

Max: WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Lando: [muffled laughter] She’s going feral.

Max: CHAT, DO YOU HEAR THIS?

Chat: 

MARAAA.

SHE’S EATING LIKE SHE HASN’T BEEN FED IN YEARS.

DOG ASMR STREAM WHEN.

THAT’S THE SOUND OF A QUEEN ENJOYING LIFE.

SHE DESERVES EVERY BIT OF THAT PEANUT BUTTER.

Max: Mate. Your dog is losing it.

Lando: She loves peanut butter.

Max: Yeah, no kidding. It sounds like she’s wrestling it.

Lando: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Max: I swear, chat’s gonna riot if you don’t post a Mara video soon.

Lando: I’ll think about it.

Max: Think about it? No, mate, you don’t understand. Mara is the people’s princess.

Chat: 

MARA FOR PRESIDENT.

SHE DESERVES THE WORLD.

THE WAY SHE’S JUST EXISTING AND WE’RE ALL LOSING IT.

THIS IS NOW A MARA FAN STREAM.

GIRLBOSS.

Max: You could literally disappear again for months, but if you drop one single Mara clip, all will be forgiven.

Lando: Huh. Good to know.

Max: Don’t even pretend like you won’t exploit that.

Lando: [grinning] Wouldn’t dream of it.

(Mara, still licking peanut butter, lets out an extremely content sigh.)

Max: Oh, that was adorable.

Lando: Yeah, she’s great.

Max: I can feel chat melting over this.

Chat: 

SHE’S SO PRECIOUS.

LIZZIE AND MARA HARD CARRYING THE CONTENT RIGHT NOW.

MARA POST WHEN.

WE DON’T DESERVE HER.

SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS.

Max: Right. Now that we’ve all had our emotional moment over Mara’s peanut butter obsession, shall we actually play the game?

Lando: Probably.

Max: But just so we’re clear—this stream peaked the moment Mara showed up.

Lando: Yeah, I figured.

(Chat spams heart emojis as the game finally begins.)

***

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car PrinceBy June Shepard

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton has built an empire on love stories—intoxicating, sweeping, heart-stopping love stories that have made her one of the most successful romantasy authors of the decade. Her Seasons of Fate series, a four-book saga filled with magic, intrigue, and forbidden romance, has captivated millions worldwide, cementing her place as the reigning queen of the genre.

But even her most devoted readers could never have predicted that she was living out a love story of her own. And certainly not with one of the biggest stars in motorsport.

When Lizzie Treshton walked into the Silverstone paddock in July 2025, hand-in-hand with McLaren’s Lando Norris, social media imploded.

No one had any idea they were together. No rumors, no leaks—just an earth-shattering confirmation that sent both F1 and romantasy Twitter into collective cardiac arrest.

"It wasn’t supposed to be a big thing," Treshton says now, curled up on a sofa in her Surrey flat, a steaming mug of tea in hand. "Lando was racing at Silverstone. I wanted to be there to support him. I didn’t think the world would explode."

Perhaps that was naive. Because if there’s one thing the world loves, it’s an unexpected crossover. And this? This was the ultimate crossover event.

Lando Norris has spent the last six years in the high-pressure world of Formula 1, balancing blistering lap times with an ever-growing fanbase that adores his mix of raw talent, easy charm, and chaotic humor. He’s no stranger to public scrutiny. But even he was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the reaction.

"I knew Lizzie was a big deal," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "But I didn’t fully grasp it until people started calling me ‘the romantasy book boyfriend of the year.’"

He grins. "I think my sisters are still mad I didn’t tell them who I was dating."

That particular detail has only added to the legend of "Lizzie & Lando." While Norris’s family knew he had a girlfriend, they had no idea it was that Lizzie Treshton—the very same author whose books they had lined up at midnight to buy. His sisters, self-proclaimed romantasy fanatics, took approximately thirty seconds to forgive him before launching into full-scale fangirl mode.

But not everyone has been as welcoming.

Almost immediately after Silverstone, the backlash began. While plenty of fans celebrated the unexpected pairing, others turned vicious. Some called Treshton “undeserving.” Others dismissed the relationship entirely, claiming Norris would eventually move on.

And then there were the ones who went after her health.

Treshton has always been open about living with epilepsy, discussing it occasionally in interviews and social media posts. But being open about something and having it dissected by millions of strangers are two very different things.

Some reactions were cruel—questioning Norris’s commitment, making sweeping judgments about Treshton’s ability to “keep up” with the fast-paced, jet-setting lifestyle of an F1 driver. Others were outright ableist, using her condition as a reason to doubt her place at his side.

Norris, uncharacteristically sharp in his response, took to Instagram. “The way some of you have spoken about Liz—the woman I love—is disgusting. There’s no other way to put it. You’ve taken something she has no control over and used it as an excuse to dehumanize her, to insult her, to act like she isn’t worthy of me.” 

McLaren issued a formal statement condemning the backlash, while much of the grid rallied behind Treshton, with drivers like Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc publicly voicing their support.

“It was disgusting,” Treshton says bluntly. “But not surprising.”

"I’ve lost people because of my epilepsy," Treshton says quietly, her fingers tightening around her mug. "People who couldn’t handle it. People who didn’t want to try."

Her mother was one of them.

Treshton doesn’t often talk about her mother, but when she does, it’s with a detachment that speaks of wounds long since buried. "She left when I was young," she says. "Said she couldn’t deal with it. So she didn’t."

She exhales slowly. "I learned early on that some people see epilepsy as an inconvenience. Like it makes you fragile. But it doesn’t make me less. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me unlovable."

Despite the backlash, Treshton and Norris remain unfazed. Their relationship, built away from the public eye, is stronger than the noise that surrounds it.

"Lando makes me feel safe," she admits. "Not in a way that makes me feel like I need protecting, but in a way that reminds me I don’t have to do everything alone."

For Norris, it’s simple. "She’s incredible," he says. "And I’m lucky to have her. End of story."

There’s something almost cinematic about the two of them. The bestselling author who spins love stories for a living. The racing driver who defies speed and gravity every weekend. It’s the kind of pairing that shouldn’t make sense. And yet, it does.

At the end of the day, theirs isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about resilience. About belonging. About choosing each other in a world that constantly tries to tear people down.

When asked what’s next, Treshton shrugs. “I have a book to finish. He has races to win. And beyond that?” She tilts her head, thoughtful. “I think we’ll just keep surprising people.”

One thing is clear: the queen of romantasy and her race car prince are far from a fleeting fairytale.

They’re just getting started.

****

8 December 2024, Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

The moment Lando stepped out of the car, the world blurred around him. The cheers, the McLaren team swarming in orange, the fireworks—none of it felt real. He had won Abu Dhabi. He had won the Constructors’ Championship for McLaren. After years of dreaming, of heartbreak, of being so close yet so far—he had done it.

His mother reached him first, arms tight around his shoulders, holding him like she never wanted to let go. “Lando,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’ve made so many people happy today.”

His father clapped a firm hand on his back, pride evident in his expression. His team, his engineers, Zak Brown—everyone was celebrating around him. But Lando was already searching for someone else.

And then he saw her.

Lizzie stood off to the side, wrapped in one of his McLaren jackets, Mara sitting dutifully at her feet. She looked exhausted, and he knew why. Just last night, she had suffered a seizure. He had been with her through it, waiting for the worst to pass. He had told her she didn’t have to come today, that she should stay at the hotel and rest.

But Lizzie was nothing if not stubborn.

Her gaze found his, and her face lit up like the fireworks lighting the sky outside.

He could see how tired she was, though, in the tightness around her eyes, the way her body was still a little stiff.

But she was here.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, and suddenly, she was in front of him, her hands reaching up to his face before he could say a word.

Her fingers traced over his skin, her tired eyes taking him in with a familiar, almost reverent look. It was as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Lando knew the feeling.

“Like I ever would have missed this,” she murmured before he could scold her for being out in the chaos of the paddock. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, her voice thick with emotion. “Lando, you did it. You actually did it.”

"You didn't need to come," he whispered. His hands came to rest on her waist, grounding himself. “I was worried about you.”

“And I was never going to miss watching you win,” she said simply, smiling up at him. “I am so proud of you.”

Lando let out a shaky breath.

Then, with the whole world watching, he kissed her.

It was soft, careful—his hands tightening on her waist like he was terrified she might disappear, like he still wasn’t sure if any of this was real. When he pulled back, her eyes were shining, and for the first time since he crossed the finish line, it hit him.

He had everything he had ever wanted.

****

Dedications of The Seasons of Fate: 

A Spring of Secrets and Thorns

For Mara—

My steady ground, my quiet guardian, my fiercest protector.

For every unseen battle you’ve helped me fight, for every moment you’ve kept me safe, and for always being by my side—this book, like so much of my life, is possible because of you.

A Summer of Blood and Bloom

For Dad—

For every doctor’s appointment, every sleepless night, and every time you carried the weight of the world so I wouldn’t have to.

You taught me that love doesn’t walk away—it stays, it fights, and it endures. This book is a testament to that, and to you.

An Autumn of Fire and Stone

For Tasha and Aunt Lou—

For the sister I chose and the woman who made us family.

For every page read, every dream encouraged, and every time you reminded me that I was more than my worst days. I am who I am because I had you both beside me. I couldn’t have done this without you.

A Winter of Ash and Starlight

For Lando - 

Who taught me that love, like speed, can take your breath away in an instant. You’ve turned the pages of my life in the most unexpected, beautiful way. 

Thank you for showing me that sometimes the best stories are the ones you never saw coming. 

Ours is my favourite one. 

Acknowledgments – A Winter of Ash and Starlight

Writing this book, and really this entire series, has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I never imagined that a story I started one summer in my dad’s garden would turn into this, but here we are. I couldn’t have done it alone, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.

To my dad—thank you for everything. For the late-night talks, the endless encouragement, and the way you always made sure I knew I was enough, just as I am. You’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the reason I never stopped believing I could do this.

To Aunt Lou—you are proof that family is about love, not blood. You didn’t have to be a mother to me, but chose to be anyway. I don’t have the words to properly thank you for that, but I hope you know how much I love you.

To Tasha—my sister in every way that matters. For always having my back, for every chaotic adventure, and for making sure I never forget who I am. You are my favorite person to cause trouble with.

To Mara—my best girl, my constant companion, my real-life guardian angel. You have been curled up beside me through every late-night writing session, every deadline panic, every high and low.  There is no version of my life, or this book, without you in it.

This book marks the end of Astrid and Ciaran’s journey—the last chapter of their love story. And in a way, it closes a chapter of my own life, too. Love has a funny way of finding you when you least expect it, and just as I was bringing Astrid and Ciaran home, someone walked into my life and changed everything.

To Lando—who came into my life just as I was closing this chapter and somehow became the best story of all. I don’t know if fate is real, but if it is, I think it was always meant to bring me to you. You walked into my world when I wasn’t sure I deserved something good, and you have never let me forget that I do. 

Thank you for every quiet moment and every inside joke. Thank you for the dino nuggets, the peanut butter and the Ferrari Dog Bandanas. Thank you for making me laugh, for making me feel safe, and for proving, every single day, that love isn’t about grand gestures, but about showing up, time and time again. 

You have been the greatest plot twist of my life. I love you. 

And finally, to the readers—thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for believing in Astrid and Ciaran, in fate and magic, in love that defies the odds. This world, this story, exists because of you.

Here’s to new stories, new adventures, and finding our own kind of magic. Always.

With love and endless gratitude, Elizabeth Louise Treshton

The End

[etherealrin]

꩜ .ᐟ blue.

summer 2006.

you know, you and satoru both do, that you're not supposed to be enjoying it this much. this whole beach trip in okinawa, all of this sightseeing—none of it was really for your pleasure nor enjoyment.

riko amanai looks at you thoughtfully. "something up?"

"nope! let's keep going!" you fake a smile, dragging her back towards the shoreline where the ocean was ravaging the sand.

"eek! it's cold!" the black haired girl cries, cringing at the sensation. you'd have to agree, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

out of the blue, you're both rudely splashed by a truckload of the frigid water.

"SATORU!" you exclaim, turning to stare at the white haired male, currently sniggering with glee. suguru stands next to him, an obvious accomplice by the sight of the huge dragon which had caused the wave.

"you'll never get us, losers!" the two boys had run too far along the seashore for you and riko to have any hope of catching—and even if you did, satoru would surely turn on his infinity.

not that he'd turned it off since leaving riko's school. you can sense it in his eyes, how they're just a little bit duller. he must be dead exhausted underneath that facade, you know it.

his gaze catches yours, and as if by fate's intention, suguru and riko are called away by kuroi, leaving the two of you alone. you walk to him, sand shuffling under bare toes. satoru is oddly quiet, eyes never leaving you for even a second.

"you gonna stop staring? it's a bit awkward for me, y'know?" you lightly punch his arm when you finally reach him, sighing.

"it's weird, isn't it? to feel this normal. gives me a bad premonition, actually." his fingers are fidgeting at nothing in the air, now looking up at the blueness of the sky.

you're standing shoulder to shoulder but it feels like there's an impossible distance between you two. he seems distant, lost in the world of his own thoughts somewhere far away.

"what are you thinking about?" you question softly. "i know you might believe you have to handle everything by yourself, because you're the strongest or whatever, but that's just your superiority complex talking." that gets a chuckle out of him. but he still doesn't feel like the satoru you know.

"what i'm thinking about, huh?" he falters, pale hair ruffled by the salty breeze of air. you swear you can hear both his and your heartbeats, drumming in sync. "i'm thinking—well, imagining, that we fell in love on a day just like this, by the ocean."

when the words leave his lips, you suddenly see it. everything he imagines, you want to believe so badly.

"is that what you wish for? that we were regular humans?"

"sometimes." it's a confession from the strongest. "but mostly no. i'd hate to be weak," he feigns disgust in an attempt to joke.

you can't stop the smile from spreading across your face, reaching both hands out to capture one of his. satoru stiffens immediately, impossibly blue eyes widening.

so he did turn off his infinity for you.

"it's alright. like you said, you're the strongest, right?"

the glimmer of the ocean's waves reflect across his face, painting him aquamarine. the moment is so blue, in both emotion and color.

if you could have said it then, you would have told him instead that he could leave his heart with you. you'd keep it safe for him, and your love wouldn't ever falter. that the universe would always bring you two back together.

but you don't. you can't, knowing that if something ever happened to the either of you it would only hurt even more.

instead, you allow him to rest his head against you, quietly praying to a higher that everything would be okay, listening to the soft splashes of the water.

a/n: this is the beach scene in hidden inventory yes! gojo art is by @ shachi0515 on yt!

ılılılılılılı now playing: blue by yung kai, blue by keshi (do we sense a theme here?)

masterlist. can be read as a continuation of this fic!

[byte--sized-thoughts]

hi @lizluvscupcakes! it's pretty simple and you're not an idiot. there's just a few different concepts that people are referring to here so,

in my very long post i am going to explain:

loans and collateral

margin calls

how this all relates to musk

how a stock price changes

the power people have and the action we can take

how to read the graph i posted

text in indents are side tours i've taken, although one could argue my whole writing style is "AND ANOTHER THING"

now if you get to the end of this, WOW THANK YOU. please let me know if this helped! i've always wanted to do this sort of thing. have a blog that explains finance stuff the simple way and empower people to stand up and use finance for good. there is strength in numbers!!! we have power. anyway, i guess i'm curious in knowing if you think there's people who'd like and read from that sorta blog

first of all, green is good is up and red is bad is down for the price of the shares.

Musk's Twitter Loan:

Elon Musk owns a huge bunch of Tesla stock. He has used Tesla stock as "collateral" for taking out a loan to buy Twitter.

Intro to loans and collateral:

Basically the bank said ok we'll give you a lot of cash that you have to use to buy Twitter but we're taking a risk by lending you money so we need insurance incase you can't pay us back.

The most common form of collateral is a house. For example, when you take a loan to buy a house, the house itself is collateral and if you miss enough loan repayments, they'd kick you out and sell the house, this is called foreclosure.

And, the basic premise is - the value of the collateral is always higher than the amount of loan you take. For example, to borrow $900,000 you have to provide a collateral of $1 million or more.

Musk's $44 billion collateral:

So, back to Musk.

He was like, I need to buy Twitter for $44 billion, I have some amount of money in my bank account the rest I can loan from the bank.

The bank obviously asked for collateral and agreed to take Tesla stock as collateral. Now this is where it gets a little complicated.

Unlike a house, a stock is much "riskier", because the price changes so frequently. A house's price will change but but not on a daily basis like stock prices do. So there is a chance that the price of the stock could fall so much, so quickly that the bank would lose all its money.

The thing that ticks me off about this, is that this is actually quite hard to get. Banks will not take stock as a collateral from a regular person. It's just way too risky. So Musk is able to use his already ginormous amount of wealth to get wealthier in ways that regular people would never be able to. Don't even get me started on the tax complications on all this. The system is broken. No, the system is rigged against the regular person.

$114 margin:

So, similar to a foreclosure, the bank adds a covenant to the loan, called a margin call.

If the value of the collateral falls below the agreed amount, the margin - in this case, $114, the bank will issue a "margin call". The bank will demand that Musk either pays them money to compensate for the decease in collateral value (remember; collateral $ > loan $) or sell some of the stock and pay them back.

this is what the second tweet meant by "Musk will get a margin call"

taking a step back first. let's look at -

Intro to stock pricing:

Technically,

Stock prices move based on the ongoing push and pull of supply and demand. When more people want to buy a stock, demand increases, driving the price up. When more people want to sell, supply increases, pushing the price down.

Really,

People buy a company's stock when they believe the company is doing well and sell when they think it is or going to struggle.

This brings me to BYD. It’s a Chinese EV company, a major competitor and very bad news for Tesla. BYD has better technology. Bad for Tesla. BYD is more popular in certain markets. Bad for Tesla. BYD’s sales are growing faster than Tesla’s. Bad for Tesla.

Bad for Tesla means lower profits, which means investors lose confidence and sell. And when investors sell, the stock price drops

Although technically,

The system that determines stock prices doesn’t know why people are buying or selling - it only reacts to the numbers. More buyers push the price up, more sellers push it down. It’s that simple.

This is where

Our power

comes in.

Nothing bad has to happen to Tesla for its stock price to drop. If enough people decide to sell, the system will register a lack of demand and tank the price.

This is exactly what happened with GameStop- its price skyrocketed simply because enough people started buying.

We want the opposite here.

Bankrupt Elon Musk:

So wrapping that up,

Elon Musk used a bunch of Tesla stock to take a MASSIVE loan. If the price of Tesla stock drops, the bank will perform a margin call on Musk and this call will likely severely damage his wealth.

So, if we can bring the value of tesla and other musk owned companies stock low enough by exercising our right to trade stock. The hope is, once his wealth drops, he will have less influence and stop promoting harmful right wing ideologies.

Liz, you have my most sincere apologies if I went on explaining something you already knew. I just thought it was important to explain the mechanics behind this. Finance bros make this stuff sound WAAAAAAAY more complicated than it is and i think it might be my life's goal to educate people about this. Information is power and money is power. They're trying to hide the mechanics of money. They're taking away power from us and we can't let that happen. Anyway, this is finally what you actually asked for:

Reading a stock price graph.

this following graph will come up if you google "tesla stock price"

you can search for the stock price for any company listed on any exchange in the world. gotta love the internet.

key terms as shown in the google graph. most are explained, some are self explanatory.

Stock exchange: the market for the company's stock is listed on. there are multiple exchanges, many in a single country. For example, US has NASDAQ and NYSE among others. Here, you can see tesla is listed on NASDAQ

Company code: each company gets a unique code. the code is kinda like its username on the exchange

Current price and currency: The price of 1 stock and its expressed in the local currency of the exchange the stock is listed on. For example, BYD is listed on the Shenzhen Stock Exchange (SHE) in China so its currency is Chinese Yuan (CNY)

Time frame buttons: you can change the view of the graph. I have selected year to date (YTD) which means the graph shows me the data from the beginning of the year to now.

Change in price for the selected time frame: -137.34 -> the absolute value it has decreased i.e, tesla stock has dropped $137.34 since the beginning of the year. -36.22% -> the percentage change for the year and a DOWN arrow mark in red to make it extra clear that the price dropped 😆

before i explain the numbers under the graph, it's important to know that the price of the stock changes every few minutes. if you open up this graph on google, you can select "1D" in the time frame button and see the price change as people buy and sell the stock. the system only does this when the markets are open which is like working hours for the market basically.

the following are shown under the graph (these won't change even if you change the time frame button)

open: the opening price for the day

high: the highest the price was during the day

low: the lowest the price was during the day

market capital: the total value of a company's shares, calculated as (current stock price X the number of shares) tesla's is $758.21 billion, holy shit.

p/e ratio - the price to earnings ratio, calculated as (share price / earnings per share).

P/e ratio is generally used to assess whether a stock is overvalued, undervalued, or fairly priced relative to its earnings. A lower ratio may indicate a bargain, while a higher one suggests overpricing. The entire market's average P/E ratio is 20–25. But, P/E ratios vary by industry—tech firms typically have higher ratios than utilities due to faster growth and higher margins. BYD's is 32. Tesla is 119. I would have to do more analysis to say this for sure but it's highly likely that Tesla is WAY overpriced.

Side note, I saw a dude when i was visiting new york a few weeks ago with a sign that said "tesla is worth $15 per share, here's my work" wish i took a picture lol.

the graph itself:

x axis - time

y axis - price of the stock

you can see as much detail as you want. if you go to 1D, you'll see prices for every 15mins or so and you can even select MAX, which will show you the price movement from the first day the stock was listed.

Here is your mission.

[winteringdream]

YOU'RE MINE ! ──── boynextdoor (boynextdoor's protective gestures! )

✩ ⋅ pairing. ot6 bonedo x gn!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, headcanons ✩ ⋅ warnings. none! ✩ ⋅ wc. 1335

myung jaehyun (light-hearted) distraction

jaehyun doesn't like confronting someone in a serious manner so if someone makes you uncomfortable, he’ll loudly drag you into a different conversation to try and distract you. “hey, hey! did I tell you about the time I fell off a balcony?”

he might try to keep the situation more light-hearted by trying to defend you (jokingly but not so jokingly) “you want me to fight them with words or with my actual fists? or both?”

if needed, he’ll pull out the (fake) boyfriend move and grab your hand to announce loud and proud, “sorry, taken!” before pulling you away. but if someone’s standing too close to you, jaehyun will pull you a step backward, depending on what mood he is he may do this subtly or really obviously ("why are you all up their face?")

aftermath

jaehyun is all playful energy until he senses you’re not okay. he’d tone it down, giving you space to talk if you want to. if you brush it off, he won’t push, but he’ll stay close, filling the silence with casual conversation so you don’t feel alone. if he knows something happened, he’ll sit with you, making jokes about the situation to make it more light-hearted. and if words aren’t enough, he might throw an arm around your shoulders and lean against you, making sure you feel safe

park sungho doesn't play around

park sungho has everything thought out. if he’s telling you to do something, it’s because he’s already thought through every possibility. "if you’re walking home alone, send me your location. no arguments." if you try to brush it off, saying you’ll be fine he won't let it go. "i don’t care if you think you’re fine. just send it."

if someone makes you uncomfortable, he will immediately stand between you and them without hesitation, i wouldn't say he'd be the type to push someone back, but maybe if he's really mad

he watches out for you, even when he acts like he’s not paying attention, he knows exactly where you are in a room. especially if there's someone he knows is not fond of you is present. he will immediately stop everything he does if he sees the two of you talking, quickly appearing by your side to ensure things don't escalate

sungho doesn't hesitate to physically remove you from a situation. if you’re frozen in a bad moment or unsure how to handle the situation, he just grabs your wrist and walks you out of there. and he doesn’t play games, if he thinks something is going to get serious, he’ll escalate it without hesitation by calling authorities.

aftermath

he approaches it head-on. if you resist, he doesn’t back off easily but also doesn’t pry if you clearly don’t want to talk. instead, he’d reassure you, "i can’t fix everything, but i can be here. so let me." he’s more about action than words, so if you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’ll take you somewhere quiet, get you food, or force you to take a break because he knows you won’t do it yourself. also, no downplaying anything! "if it matters to you it's not nothing."

lee riwoo quiet but supporting

riwoo isn’t the type to make a scene when he’s being protective, but he makes it clear he’s paying attention.

If he senses something’s off, his usual laid-back demeanor shifts slightly. He doesn’t necessarily say anything right away, but his body language changes; he stands a little closer, his eyes track the situation carefully, and he becomes more aware of the way you act.

if someone’s making you uncomfortable, he won’t confront them outright. Instead, he’s the type to interrupt smoothly, effortlessly shifting the situation before things escalate.

if someone upsets you, he gets uncharacteristically serious. "Was that supposed to be funny?" he doesn't let anything slide, remembering every mean/rude thing anyone has ever said to you.

aftermath

if you’re upset but not saying anything, Riwoo notices. He doesn’t force you to talk, but he stays close, offering small gestures of comfort like nudging your shoulder, walking beside you without a word, maybe even sending you a random meme later just to lighten the mood. he believes in letting you process things at your own pace, but if you need someone in your corner, he’s already there.

han taesan quiet and blunt

if someone is acting weird around you, taesan doesn’t immediately say anything, he just stares. if they don’t take the hint, his voice comes out flat, unimpressed. “what exactly are you trying to do?” he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get worked up. he has no patience for disrespect. If someone so much as talks down to you, he interrupts before they can finish. “try again,” he says, "with respect this time.”

he has a habit of subtly standing between you and crowds, his movements so natural that you don’t even realize he’s doing it at first. a casual hand on your wrist, the lightest press against your back, guiding without making a big deal out of it. it’s something he does without thinking.

taesan doesn’t sugarcoat things. if you do something reckless, he’ll call you out without hesitation. “don’t walk alone at this hour, you’re too weak to fight someone off if you get attacked.”

aftermath

if you’re upset but not saying anything. he won’t push you to talk, but he lingers a little longer and stays within reach (like how he acted when leehan was upset during the what?door! ep). he’s not one for grand comforting gestures, but he makes sure you’re not alone. If you need space, he gives it, but if you need distraction, he’ll find an excuse to keep you occupied. you might find small, thoughtful actions like your favorite snack left near your seat or a playlist shared with no explanation.

kim leehan gentle but assertive

leehan also seems like the type who picks up on your discomfort immediately, smoothly changing the subject or finding a reason to pull you away without making it obvious.

in crowded places, he casually holds onto your sleeve or wrist, not in a possessive way, just as a natural gesture to keep you close. he looks out for you, always checking in to make sure you’re okay.

leehan knows when to drop the nice act. if someone refuses to back off, his usual warmth disappears, replaced by a firm, no-nonsense demeanor that makes it clear he isn’t playing around.

aftermath

leehan just sits with you if you're upset. Ii you want to vent, he listens without interrupting, nodding occasionally to show he’s paying attention. when you’re finished, he gives thoughtful advice, but only if you ask for it. he comforts you in small, quiet ways. he tries to use lighthearted distraction to make you smile.

kim woonhak bold but playful

woonhak won’t hesitate to call them out dramatically. “wow, did anyone just hear what they said?” immediately draws attention and makes the person feel self-conscious, often causing them to back off.

despite his usually carefree and playful demeanor, when woonhak is genuinely angry, he becomes surprisingly intimidating. he would glare down the person who is bothering you in the hopes of intimidating them away.

if someone starts bothering you woonhak is the first to declare that you’re off-limits. "sorry! already taken by me!" he makes it clear that they’re unwelcome in a way that everyone can hear.

aftermath

if you don’t open up to him about something bad that happened, he might pretend to guilt-trip you in a playful way. "wow, so you just suffer in silence? rude,” to encourage you to share what’s going on in a lighthearted manner, making sure you know he’s there to listen. he’ll randomly check in, texting or calling just to make sure you’re doing okay. even when he’s not right next to you, woonhak’s eye is always on you. He’ll subtly watch over you from across the room, picking up on any signs that something might be wrong.

[returnofeternity]

hi! could you maybe do a different version of the lottie fic where we actually get scared of her after she bashed that guy in the head with an axe bc i was lowkey scared after watching that scene 😭

she still looks at you first after she strikes edwin's head in with the axe, smiling so proudly after murdering this man. she thought you'd be happy that she was getting rid of him, these strangers were going to ruin everything.

"lottie, what the fuck?!" you call out shakily, heart pounding fast at the sight of this poor guy's brains spilling out. you're even more frightened that she seems cheerful about this.

"they don't belong. It doesn't want them here." she says to all the girls crying out in fear, but mainly to you.

everything happens so fast after that.

the hikers start running and the girls follow, nat telling them not to hurt them. your legs jerk like you wanna run after them, and you don't know if it's because they're your only hope at getting out of here or if it's because you wanna get away from lottie. either way, you can't move. next thing you know, melissa's getting shot with an arrow and when you look back at lottie, you almost feel like throwing up when she walks over to the dead guy and kneels next to him, gathering his blood and guts on her hands and spreading them on her face.

you kinda just end up dropping to your knees and crawling over to where gen, melissa, and mari are, not really helping with getting the arrow out and just trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're absolutely terrified of your girlfriend only a few feet away from you. you make sure to face away from her, but you can still hear her whisper to herself and the fear coursing through your veins makes you feel so dizzy.

i'd like to think she'd try crawling over or just call your name out to get you to come to her because she wants to share this moment with you. she can finally hear the wilderness again and she knows you'd be happy for her, but you're not? she doesn't understand why you keep plugging your ears when she calls for you. she doesn't understand why you scramble up to your feet and hide behind gen when she tries to crawl over.

also thinking of knowing about her meds and you know that this is just a psychotic breakdown/religious psychosis and you hate that you're genuinely terrified of her because it's not her fault :( all you really wanna do is pull her away and hug her for hours but the thought of even looking at her makes you feel faint.

it's morning when she gets up from the dead guys body and asks if she can help you guys with melissa. again, your heart pounds and you feel saliva pool in your mouth when she looks at you all confused.

after gen and mari yell at her, and after she tells them that the strangers were gonna ruin everything, she looks at you again, almost for reassurance. you'd always back her up on everything, but now, you don't know if you can.

"you killed him, lottie. he could've saved us from here. we could be on our way back home right now if you didn't...." you trail off.

she opens her mouth, ready to tell you that she doesn't wanna leave this place, but she feels something from behind. as she turns around, your eyes dart to where she looks, and the girls come out of the woods with one of the hikers.

just thinking of her coming up to you after the rest of the girls take hannah to interrogate her and being so upset when you flinch from her touch :( she still has blood on her face and all over her clothes, and she looks so innocent and that's kind of the scariest part. maybe you tell her that you need some space to process all this, that yes, you are scared of her and you feel bad about it but you just can't be around her right now.

[psychemochanight]

I was thinking about the last comics that came out, and... I have two thoughts that have nothing to do with each other, but I'm going to mix them up here anyway.

First, It makes perfect sense that Dick h has the blood type that can give the most, but receive the least. (Empathy: It means you give blood until there is nothing left to bleed).

A long time ago, I had read a fic where Bruce commented on this, actually. I don't remember the name because it wasn't from ao3, but I want to look it up again sometime.

Dick told Bruce that he wasn't his son (because he wasn't adopted), but when something happens, and Dick needs a blood transfusion, Bruce is the donor.

Clark and Bruce are talking, and Bruce tells Clark that there is only one person in the League who can donate blood to Dick... Bruce himself, since they both are O-

He tells Clark that Dick has more of his blood than John Grayson's running through his veins. That's his kid, his son.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is that Dick's parents, according to the new issue that came out, had him training 10 hours a day from the age of three.

A typical workday is usually 8 hours a day, and many adults find it tiresome.

Dick has been training 10 hours a day since he was 3 years old.

And he seems to think this is okay, or something to be proud of.

Also, there's another comic where Dick says he sometimes wishes he was just a kid, watching the show, not being part of it.

And it's terrifying to see how this is always overlooked, how his situation is romanticized. Like, there's talk that Bruce should have done better, that he shouldn't have let a kid take such risks, that if he loved him he wouldn't have let Dick be Robin...

What about his biological parents? Mary and John?

I firmly believe that his parents loved Dick, I really do. But I also think they are simply terrible parents.

Sure, at that time it was normal for children to work in circuses with their parents, for acrobats not to have safety equipment... But the Graysons were known for going further. For their extremely dangerous stunts.

And Dick trained that since he was 3 years old.

Even in the older comics, where it's not specified that he's been training since that age, even if it had been since he was 7 or 8, it's still horrible. He was a kid. He should have been among the children in the crowd, not up there risking his life.

Shit, his parents should have used a net just to have a chance of surviving, to live for their son.

Maybe the trapeze act was their way of showing love. Maybe it was all they knew. Maybe they just wanted to share their life with their son.

But still, Dick shouldn't have been exposed to that. What if he was the one who fell, not them? How would they live with it?

Also, what psychological consequences did Dick suffer? They are always attributed to Batman, but were they really due to his time with him?

Sure, being Robin meant doing your job well or dying... But being an acrobat did too.

Dick always lived with the thought that if he does something wrong, he will die, that someone he loves will die.

It's no wonder he's a perfectionist, as much of a "control freak" as Batman himself.

It would also explain many things, such as the type of response he has. When you face a dangerous life of constant stress, your body loses its ability to react normally to stress, even if it's because of small things like an exam or something even less important. Adrenaline is pumped anyway, because your body recognizes the situation as a survival situation... And it makes you addicted to adrenaline.

Damn, even his heart stopping in the last issue makes sense if we could connect the dots.

They're two totally separate things for two separate comics, I know. Just... Damn.

[shinra-makonoid]

In a lot of cases, exercice does in fact help, I'm not sure I know of a chronic illness that isn't helped by exercice to be fair. Your bones and articulations will give you pain if you don't exercice. Your muscles will be stuck and uncomfortable and hurt if you don't exercice. Your heart and lungs will be less ok if you don't exercice. Your mental health suffers from not exercising. We need to move just like we need to breathe, eat, drink and sleep. Exercice has been linked to less pain in general, and it works for things that usually don't work with meds, like for example fibromyalgia.

The meaning that you put behind "exercice" doesn't need to be high or heavy. Cleaning your house is exercice. Cooking is exercice. Stretching is exercice (and a very good one at that, probably one of the best if you can't really move a lot). Walking in the street is exercice. Climbing stairs is exercice. Singing is exercice. Gardening is exercice. What matters is that you find the exercice that is corresponding to what you can do and what you're willing to give, something you can manage to keep doing and enjoy doing. It's infinitely better if you do 30 mins gardening every two days rather than one 30 mins run every 2 years because it took you one week for your body to recover from your run that you hated with all your gut the whole 30 mins of it. There is absolutely no need to do something you hate, and there is absolutely no need for you to struggle or hurt while doing it, it doesn't have to be long, you don't have to perform, or prove anything, or be seen by anyone if you don't want to.

It doesn't have to be 60 reps of push ups, doesn't have to be 100lbs of dumbells, doesn't have to be running, it doesn't have to be yoga. And let me tell you as someone who didn't run for so so so long, it took me at least 6 months of running once every week for 30 mins before I could stop hurting everywhere from my feet to my ankles to my lower back after a session, because my body was not used to it, and running, especially on concrete, is very traumatic for the body (and tbh I don't recommend it). It takes such a long time to remake your body in a way that can handle some intense exercices, like legit months, sometimes years. But every little bit that is conquered and done, even if it's a walk of 5 mins in the street every week, will be a net positive in the long run.

When you haven't done exercice for a while, it is traumatic for your body to go through it again. Bones for example are shaped by exercice/movements and are cued to grow and fix itself through exercice, but it takes a long time to actually shape the bones and make it fix itself and grow stronger. So if you stopped exercising for a long time, your bones will not handle it the way someone who's used to those movements is. It takes time, you have to go extremely slow and listen to your body. But it will most probably make your life easier on the long run and help against your chronic illnesses and your pain. It most probably won't cure you, but it might prevent more issues, more pain, more difficulties, and will probably give you more autonomy with years (whether it's from muscles, bones, heart, lungs or brain).

It's not a bad thing we encourage people to exercice, we just gotta be mindful about what we mean when we say exercice. Because yes, someone who cannot go out of the door of their apartment and hasn't been doing so for 3 years won't be going running any time soon or doing complicated yoga poses, and nobody should expect that and it's even dangerous to expect that.

And if you don't know where to begin, here's a possibility, he's nice and shows different levels, and it's in his kitchen:

If you don't like it, don't do it. I for one would never do the one that is on the picture because I find it extremely uncomfortable. Pick and choose what you want to do, don't complete everything, do your own things that feel ok, stop whenever you feel like it. Find what works and what you enjoy, test things out and don't be too hard on yourself. Set the lowest bar that you could possibly imagine, forgive yourself if you fail, find out why it didn't work and adjust to your body's/brain capacities. Find people who will accompany you in it (community helps). Treat yourself when you did something, even if it's minimal to yourself. It has to make you feel free and not make you feel trapped.

If you're interested in getting to know what kind of exercice you should be doing according to your issues and illnesses, please talk to your doctor about it. They might have ideas to help.

we as a society have got to stop prescribing exercise as a universal cure for chronic illness. yes exercise can be extremely beneficial for certain chronic conditions, especially under the guidance of a physical therapist or physiotherapist. how and ever acting like exercise will undoubtedly reduce the symptoms of every single chronic illness on the face of the planet just isn't it. exercise is even known to worsen the symptoms brought about by certain illnesses and disabilities, and can have detrimental effects if not approached with the utmost care. 'exercise can be beneficial for certain conditions' well yes. 'exercise will have a 100% positive impact on any and all chronic illness' no no nope and also no

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Handle With Care 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Sam's not gonna make it," Bucky huffs as you stand at the sink. He puts his phone face down. "He's an important guy now." He turns and leans on the counter as you rinse the plate in your hands. "I told you, I can clean up after myself."

"And I told you, it's not too much," you put it in the rack. "My mother tried to raise a lady, despite how I turned out."

He tilts his head as he eyes you, "there's a dishwasher."

"Aren't you the cranky old man who tells the youngins they don't know what hard work is?" You scoff.

His lips thin, "you heard that?"

You shrug, "you're a good trainer, Barnes."

"It's a short leash," he growls.

"Is that what you think?"

He sighs and crosses his arms. "You're not like me. I know what people see when they look at me."

"Is that barbecue sauce on your chin?" You smile. He frowns and quickly rubs his chin with his knuckle. You chuckle. "Messing with you."

He huffs.

"What do you know about me, Barnes? You read my file."

"I don't know," he scratches his neck. "You're a demolitions expert."

"Oh, and do you know how I got to know explosions so well?"

"File said you worked with the PD--"

You scoff. "You really didn't dig into the archives? The real ones?"

He shakes his head.

"I didn't work with the PD. I got arrested for setting up IEDs around a farmhouse. Several."

"Farmhouses?" His eyes flash. "Why--"

"Long story short, you meet a lot of backwards people out in the country," you put the second plate in the tray and scrub a knife. "Couple years in, they showed up. Offered me a deal. I saved an embassy. Got my freedom. With conditions."

"Hm."

"Should they really trust me? You think I won't go back and try again? After they've taught me how to do it ten times better?" You laugh. His cheeks twitch. You shake your head. "Barnes, really."

"Well..." he drops his arms. "I don't know, do I?"

You laugh. He lets himself smile.

"Sorry about Sam. I'll let him know he's a real shit for bailing," you pull the stopper in the sink. He hands you a towel. You dry off and give it back. "If you can tolerate me a little longer, we could watch something. From this century."

"You didn't like Showtime?"

"Oh, it was fun, but I need more than moony eyes and tapping toes," you retort. "And I don't mind the snuggles." His brows furrow and you turn to look around, "where is that kitty?"

He's silent as you make clicky noises in an effort to entice the cat from her hiding spot.

"Didn't take you for an animal person."

"Might say the same of you," you toss back. "I had a pet snake. Wasn't much of a cuddler."

"Huh," he utters.

"Huh, what?" You turn and face him from the doorway.

"Nothing. Just the definition of a lady's changed a lot since my day."

"I'm sure a lot's changed. Can't even imagine," you say. "I did three years and came out, totally lost. You did... a lot longer."

"Yeah, well, it was easier... before."

You know who he's referring too. You can't blame him for being bitter. It must sting more now that Sam chose not to come hang. You almost want to call him up and bitch but you doubt he'd answer.

"Alright, my choice," you declare as you enter the front room. "You need a dose of pure schlock."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me," he grumbles.

"If I did, you'd know it," you scoop up your phone and ignore him. "I'm thinking the trashiest action crap we can find."

"You really don't have to--"

"Barnes, I'm here, and to be honest, I don't really feel like dealing with rush hour," you sneer. "So be a good host and get me a beer."

He stares back at you and blinks.

"Oh, wait, wait, I'll ask like a lady." You bat your lashes and force a smile. You add a few octaves. "Oh, please won't you get me a drink?"

He makes a face, "don't ever do that again."

You snort. You look around for his television remote. You click on the screen and flop onto the couch.

His suggested is a bit predictable; war docs, Lord of the Rings, The Sopranos? Alright. No wonder he's so goddamn serious.

He comes back with two bottles. He offers you one. He turns and stand next to the couch as he presses the glass neck to his lip but doesn't drink.

You continue your search for something less dire. Arnie is always a good time, right?

"Barnes," you select a classic; Predator. "You wanna sit? The whole lurking in my peripheral thing makes me itchy."

He flinches, "uh, sure."

He steps around the couch and sits right against the armrest. You look down at yourself. There's the stain on the borrowed shirt but otherwise you're presentable. You lift your arm and sniff.

"I smell or something?" You ask and put the remote down.

"Huh?" He glance at you.

"You think I'm contagious, or something?" You tease.

His forehead wrinkles and he shows his teeth.

"You don't have to tuck yourself into the corner like a misbehaved child," you say.

"It's not... no, just making sure you have space."

"Relax, I don't got any explosives on me," you sit back and face the screen.

A white blur jumps up beside you and you wince. Bucky does too. Alpine walks in a circle, seeking pets from her owner before spinning back. She comes to nestle against your leg, putting her head on your thigh. You stroke her gently.

"I can see why you don't like to go out, Barnes," you snort.

"She's alright." He eases just a bit. "She'll be making all sorts of racket at midnight."

"Good kitty," you praise and reach for your beer. "You give him hell, pretty kitty."

He sighs and turns his bottle in his hands. Too bad that stuff can loosen him up.

[misguidedasgardian]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA VII.

VII. Incantore

MASTERLIST

Summary: If you casted a spell on him, let it be, he likes it. 

Warnings: Use of she/her pronouns, reader has hair, Ancient Rome AU accuracies and inaccuracies, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, we are shorter than Marcus, reader is touch starved, depression, angst, pinning, thoughts about "customary" roles of a woman in a patriarchal society (don't even know how to describe it haha), Marcus gets an erection :(, MIGHT MISS SOME WARNINGS

Notes: Ufff another chapter of which i had scenes written before the prologue! uuhhh that makes this one of my favorite chapters! hehehe this was actually going to be named “snake’s nest” but I decided to turn it into “Enchantment” or in my mothertongue…. “El embrujo”, which is a song by a chilean artist I love 😂 (MORE POST CHAPTER) 

Looking back now, it all made sense

The conversations between them, the looks they shared, the complicity. 

What you couldn’t wrap your mind around… was…

Why?

Was your mother oblivious to the fact that he loved her? you really doubted it, she was one of the smartest people you ever met. She was cunning and she always seemed to be planning ahead, and she couldn't tell her alleged best friend was looking at her like he could kiss the floor she was about to walk in?

The next thing you were asking yourself was… where did you come into play? Why did Marcus want to marry you? Is it true that they were lovers like the entirety of Rome seems to believe? Then again… why?

You seemed to have lost track of time, you even dozed for a little while, but you were shaking awake by Diana, if she wasn’t smiling, you’d be scared because of the way she awakened you from your slumber 

“What’s happening?”, you whined, rubbing your eyes

“The dominus is awake, domina”, she said with an excited smile, “he asked for you”. That truly surprised you. You stood up from the bed, you were still groggy, but you took a long gulp of the water you kept in your bedside table, and then you took a long breath.

You didn’t even think about what you heard him mumble in his fever, not now, if you brought those memories and the thoughts that came after back, you were not going to be able to face him right now. 

With practiced stoicism you walked back to his rooms, you realised this was the third time you had been here, they stood like the rest of the Villa when you came here, impersonal, plain, lifeless, except, he was there now, laying on his bed, smiling at you when you walked in.

You entered the space as you would enemy territory, not sure what to expect. but he signaled for you to come near, next to him, you did, you even sat at the very space you were yesterday. 

As you gazed upon him you were surprised to see the same man you had married six months ago, only paler, and hairier, he had this sickness clinging to his skin but other than that, he was the same man. but his hair and beard had grown a bit, by what his man told you, he had been feeling poorly soon after he reached Terraco, maybe he didn’t have the time to groom himself. 

“Wife”, he called, with a weak smile, “you stand as an apparition in front of me”, he seemed honest, but he sounded the same when he whined your mother’s name in a whisper of love. 

“I’m glad you are recovering your health, husband”, you offered, feeling your chest tightening.

“All thanks to you, the medicus told me”, he said, you wanted to cry, he seemed so honest, he grabbed your wrist, caressing the skin there, awaking goosebumps with his touch, “you brought me back with your caring hands”, he said.

Three months ago, you would have done anything for your husband to give that look that seemed too similar to adoration, but now it made your stomach turn.

“It was my duty”, you said with a soft smile

“You know… all those nights in Hispania, the only thing I thought about was you”, he confessed, you felt like someone squeezed your heart, “the thought of returning to you”

“Acacius…”, it felt like a plea for mercy

“I thought you called me Marcus”, he said with a dreamy smile. “The next time, I will bring you with me”, he assured you. “I won’t leave you here, I give you my word”, he promised, 

And you couldn’t understand his sudden change of attitude, not after his feverish confession. Was it all it was? the fever speaking on his behalf? it didn’t seem like it, it seemed like it was a very heartfelt confession, yet, there he was, looking at you like you were a divine being. 

“It’s alright”, you assured him, was he truly sick? Was he still feverish? Was he dying?

His words made your head spin, as they contradicted completely what he had mumbled in his sleep. It wasn’t odd that people murmured nonsense where they were going through a fever, you had heard it, but this particular phrase… regarding your mother… truly got to you.

Was there any truth to it at all?

“But I’m being truthful”, you mindlessly touched his forehead, to feel the temperature there, he closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your caress, and you felt a mix of relief and concern. He catched your other hand in his too, with his big warm hands, he caressed the back of your with his thumbs.

You couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I believe you”, you said with a soft smile, you didn’t, not quite, but you were better than to upset a sick man. 

“How was your mother’s wedding?”, he asked, and that made you squeeze his hands, not even conscious about it. You looked into his eyes for any sign, for anything that would tell you he was upset about it. He loved your mother, now you understood why he was so quick to leave Rome…

“It was beautiful”, you said, and you found yourself wanting to hurt him. “She is now in Greece, on a beautiful boat made of gold”, to your complete surprise, he smiled, he seemed content.

“Good”, he croaked, his voice strained by the sickness he had caught, “she deserves a resemblance of peace, of safety”, he mumbled, and he truly seemed relieved.

“She does”, you tried, and smiled at him, softly. “I should fix you something to eat”, you said then, after a strange silence, an uncomfortable silence. But he didn’t let you free yourself from his grasp

“Thulia can bring us something”, he said dismissively 

“Are you feeling well, husband?”, you asked fearfully, he chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound

“Never better, I swear it”, he said softly.

“I had Diana place offerings in the altar of Salus”, you whispered

“I’m sure she acted through your hands”, he said, you nodded, feeling strange, feeling completely lost for words or actions. His hands felt so warm and so good that you started to feel scared of the contact, of the way he looked at you.

Why? Why was he acting like this?

“You should rest husband”, you said softly

“I have been resting, for days”, he said, still with that silly smile on his face. 

“Acacius”, you began

“Marcus”, he corrected

You wanted to shout at him, to stop, to stop looking at you like that, like you were the most beautiful thing. He didn’t mean it, he only was thankful to you because you took his fever away. This was something… cruel… trying to give you hope. 

As he looked at you, he nodded slowly, he gave your hands a last squeeze and released them

“Thank you, wife”, he said softly, “Now more than ever I’m sure you were sent by the gods”, there was so much you wanted to ask him, to talk about, about Hispania, about what was going to happen now, in the middle of his consulate, was he going back out there? 

Diana entered with a soft smile on her face, bringing a bowl, by the smell you could tell it was soup, with pieces of lamb and vegetables, and Thulia had learned that you enjoyed a handful of oats with it, and she now added it to her delicious soup each time. 

You received the soup with your hands, scooted closer to him, and you started feeding him. 

He moaned with satisfaction at the taste of it, it was a good soup, you liked it.

“It was you”, he said, “the oats”, you nodded with a soft smile, “Delicious”, he said, he kept looking at you with those eyes of his, those beautiful brown eyes, that looked like those of a pup. You tried not to gaze at him too long.

You were feeling so many things you truly did not know how to deal.

You had been so scared for his life, then completely heartbroken for his dazed confession, then relieved that he was fine, and he was looking fine, and now you were trying to hold it together, to not fall for this…act… that he was performing. 

It had to be, right?

He looked so lovestruck, but again, it might as well be gratitude. 

Not love.

He didn’t love you, he loved your mother.

“You are going to recuperate your strength in no time”, you said, as he ate the last of the big bowl of soup. 

“thanks to you”, he insisted.

“Please husband”, you whispered, “you should rest”, you could tell he didn’t want to, but again, you could tell he knew that was a bit childish, so he barely nodded.

“You are going to be here when I wake up?”, he asked

“I will”, you promised him, “to give you some more of that horrible medicine that honestly I think is what made you wake up”, you teased, and you surprised yourself with it. He would have chuckled too, but he dozed off pretty quickly 

Once you made sure he was asleep normally, and breathing fine, you stood up from the side of his bed and you exited the room with the empty bowl in your hands.

Trying to hold the tears 

It was ironic, lately you felt as childish as ever, it was like you were a small child again, the days when you couldn’t hold the tears, you remembered a particular occasion, when you fell the last three steps of the marble stairs of the palace when you were playing with Lucius, and you broke in pitiful sobs. You were becoming a young woman, you were eleven, and yet, you fell down. More than hurt you felt humiliated, and that you’d realise, made you feel worse. Because you cried so much, legionnaires, a pretor who was visiting, and your uncle himself came to your rescue, treating you with reverence and care, as if you were a delicate doll.

That made you cry fat tears with even more sentiment.

This was like that.

You felt humiliation biting at your heels in every turn since you got married.

There was truth in his words, in each of them.

This trip, even though it ended endangering his health, it has served as a true revelation for him. 

From the second that he left you in that harbour that fateful day, he started to feel guilty, terribly guilty, about leaving you like this, you were clearly upset, and he was leaving early because he didn’t want to attend your mother’s wedding. 

Now that he was looking back at that moment, he found himself wanting to have done things in a completely different way. 

For once, he thought he was truly going to die if he witnessed Lucilla’s wedding to another man, but he was surprised to realise  while on the very journey, that he felt more guilty about the way he left you, than the fact she was marrying altogether. 

For seconds, he wished he had stayed, with you, as you had asked him to take you with him, and he had refused, you were right, many generals took their wives, and right again when you pointed out that Terraco was completely under the Roman Rule, the city had been founded by Romans, and it was true you were going to be safe.

So, in a third place, he had wished that he had stayed longer, to witness the wedding, and then, to take you with him after. He felt like you could be there for one another, that you would have soothed his pain, that you would have helped him to process this.

Like he believed before, he was mourning, and one of the things that let him realize this, is the fact that he found himself missing you.

For every mile that he travelled he found himself more and more plagued with thoughts of you… of your beautiful face that he left in the harbour, of the beautiful you looked on your wedding day, of the sweetness of your voice, of the way your eyes shined when you spoke about something you liked…

Then he felt conflicted.

Lucilla had asked him to marry you for him to protect you, not from him to… take advantage of you, not for him to defile you and lust over you.

He felt terribly guilty that day, when catched you in the bath.

He truly felt like the luckiest man on earth, even if for brief seconds. To be married to you, for having a beautiful wife that wanted to take a bath with him, that wanted him. 

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. You were so willing, those first days, so full of hope. But he, using all of his strength earned in battles and wars, all his temple, had to break his heart to break yours.

He couldn’t do that to you.

You were married to him for him to protect you while he and Lucilla returned Rome to what it was supposed to be, not for him to take advantage of you. 

And then, he got so sick that honestly he thought he was going to die.

While they crossed the Mediterranean he honestly thought he was going to die, the ship moved over the tempestuous waves white the sails got windswept. The only thing he thought about, was your face, was the way he was going to leave you alone, meaning, more lonely than he left you already, he was going to leave you unprotected 

And then he woke up, all the way back in Rome, and that it had been you, the only one who was able to bring him back. If it was you instead of the medicus the first face he saw when he came back, he could have sworn he was dead.

But it was real.

You were so beautiful, sitting there on his bed, by his side, nursing him back to health, feeding him, touching his forehead. Caring for him.

How could he have been so blind?

It was you, this whole time.

Lucilla never loved him, not like he used to love her anyways. 

Yes, used to.

The only thing in his mind had been you, this whole time. 

And when he woke up, the sun was barely rising in the horizon. He took a long breath and when the first thing he felt was hunger, he knew, he was completely healed.

It was like magic, you, an enchantress who had bewitched him and healed him with her beautiful magic. 

He rose from the bed, a bit groggy, but hungry and empowered by the thought of looking at your beautiful face. And when he exited his room and walked through the hallway… he was certain of your magical powers.

His house… his villa… had turned into this beautiful and colourful temple.

He remembered your face, the night you had married, how you looked around.

He did not come from wealth, he was not the son of some patrician man, or a senator, he had to raise himself, and this is the house he had bought when he reached a point in his career he couldn’t keep living in the Insula he had grown up in.

So he bought this house from a Senator who had fallen from grace, it had been abandoned for years, and he hadn’t dedicated himself into turning it into a real home, he didn’t know how, he didn’t have the time.

The first time he saw you in contrast with those empty walls his stomach turned.

You looked like a beautiful flower he had plucked from the garden and placed here, in the place that lacked everything beautiful and cozy. 

But at the same time, he knew you could turn this house around to your image and liking. To do whatever you wanted with it. 

And you had… he stopped on his tracks when he found some man he didn’t recognize, barefoot, working in one of the pools, the one in the atrium, that was more decorative than 

When he came close to it he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The image drawn in the pool….

“Stop right there!”, he froze at the rushed words coming from the shoeless man himself. He had stopped him with a flick of his hand. And Marcus was about to give him a piece of his mind, that a simple mosaicist had no business commanding a general of the empire of Rome, but then the crazy looking man was looking at him.

“You have the most patrician face i have ever seen”

“I am the dominus of this house”, he said strongly

“Yes! that you are”, he said, and was smiling like he had just discovered fire, “I couldn’t find what I was lacking in my composition but now it's obvious!” he said, grabbing his graying hairs.

Marcus shook his head and tried to ignore the image of your nakedness, forever embedded in stone, to keep looking at the rest of the house, of the beautiful paintings that now decorated the walls, of the beautiful garden you were growing in the heart of the villa, the tasteful furniture that now decorated every corner, the beautiful colors of fabrics and tapestries that hung as well.

He didn’t even care that his arcs might be empty by now.

His villa, your villa, was now a home… a place where a couple lived. That smelled delicious and looked devine, being a faithful portrait of the delicate and great taste of the domina of the house, of you. 

He was so in awe, he jumped when the doors of the entrance opened widely, to reveal a man who, by the looks of it, had run all the way to his house.

He was breathing heavily, sweating copiously, and when his eyes found him, his greeted him with a signal of his arm. 

“Salve, General Acacius”, he said quickly

“Salve”, by his fancy clothes he knew who might this man work for

“I’m an envoy of the greatest Consus Licinio Craso”, he said solemnly, “and his Wife, Lucilla, she has returned from Greece, and would come to eat super at the news of the General’s arrival”, Marcus barely nodded.

“We’ll expect her at sundown” he said, “please, serve yourself some water and food”, he said, the man nodded in appreciation and got lost on his way to the kitchen.

He found you in his own study, which you had also made beautiful, reading some scrolls he didn’t recognize, so you might have bought them as well. There were rests of breakfasts on the table, and he smiled at the way you were concentrating on reading that scroll, that from where he stood, looked like it was written in Greek. 

When you saw him, you jumped in place

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Acacius”, you said hastily

“Marcus”, he insisted, but a smile was placed on his face, “I’m feeling much better”, he said quickly. “the house…”, he started. you looked at him in expectation, and maybe a bit of fear, losing the bravado you had gained in his absence

“You don’t…?”

“I love it”, he said quickly, and again… those damn eyes… looking at you… like that… “I’m so glad you make it yours, as you should have…”, he said, his breathing was heavy, his eyes dilated, he must still feel awful, you thought

“Please, go back to bed”, you murmured, taking a stand from his wooden table he used as a desk 

“I feel great”, he said with a soft smile, “I do”, you smiled

“I’m glad”, you offered, “but please…?”, you asked him, you grabbed his bicep, his skin warm under your tact, but not feverish, just… a healthy temperature, he let himself be dragged by you back to his room.

He noticed, a bit sadly, that his room was the only one in the house with no “you” in it. you haven't dared to come inside it while he wasn’t there, the thought made him sad. 

He gingerly let you lead him back into his bed, and he watched in awe as you commanded the house, Diana and Thulia now looked like his most trusted men, ready to fulfill his every command in the battlefield.

In minutes, he had a spread of food around him in his bed, and you had taken your place by his side.

Yes, your place, your rightful place by his side.

As Marcus looked at you help set his breakfast he wanted to be selfish, he found himself not caring about the age difference, about his mission, about how he was supposed to protect you. He cared about you as his wife, as the matron of his house, about… the future he could have with you.

Maybe he was still sick.

He wanted to let go of it all, of all that made him who he was, so he can finally take what he wanted, and not what he should… so he could treat you like his wife, and you could truly be a married couple with everything that entailed…

Everything…

You stuttered your movements because he was watching you so candidly, but you tried to ignore him as best as you could

And that look he gave you.

“Your mother…”, he started, as you had a bowl of food in your lap ready to help him, you stopped in your tracks, not ready for whatever there was to say, “is back”

“How do you…?”

“He sent someone ahead”, he said with a soft smile, “she is coming for dinner”, he said with a soft smile.

And as you looked into those beautiful dark eyes, and the happiness laying within them.

You started to confirm your suspicious 

He looked so hopeful, that he finally was going to see her again.

She looked for him to tell him she was back, not you.

“I’m glad”, you said, you fed him quickie, you didn’t even understood why though, his arms worked just fine, so you gave him the bowl filled with stew, bread, cheeses, left the pitch of water on the side and ran out of his room, leaving him completely alone.

You no longer cared much, he was safe, he was alive, you had helped in that, you had done your duty… you had no more reason to keep tending to him.

He was disheartened, he was not going to lie to himself, to watch you flee the run like you were being chased by something, but… he took comfort in the thought that you were making this villa your home, you were finding your palace in all of this. 

He didn't catch sight of you for the rest of the day. But he decided to take a bath. He was actually in awe of the paintings he found  in the bath room. 

Depictions of couples engaging in lovemaking, of goddesses and more. 

Is this what you… enjoyed?

He found himself… awakened… His manhood was stiff, making him uncomfortable, the thought of you, of your hands on him, of your naked likeness in the mosaic, of the paintings on the walls.

He also felt sick by only thinking of taking care of it in the bath you also used and enjoyed. so he pulled through it. Getting out of the bath and dressed, thinking about everything he could but your nakedness.

You were meant to be his to protect not to lust over….

That was like his new mantra. 

He thought about war then. About what everything meant, of him not being able to complete his mission, about him being back in Rome only three months after he went to Hispania, the legions were still out there. What was he supposed to do? never in his military career found himself in a similar position, he had never fallen sick and jeopardized his campaign.

What was he supposed to do now?

Meanwhile… you were spiraling.

You had gone with Diana and a faithful guard to the market to buy ingredients for the dinner tonight.

You were now resentful, your mother had let Marcus know, not you, that she was back, did that mean something? you were seeing things everywhere, you were becoming paranoid, and right now, you were focused on serving a delicious meal, to prove to both Marcus and your mother that you now where a grown woman. You actually didn’t know, consciously, what you wanted to achieve, but now you were determined.

And when you returned home, you spent the rest of the day making sure the villa was spotless, trying to stay out of Marcus’ way, who had called in his centurion, his most trusted man, who had come with him back to Rome, for a meeting, maybe one that decided if he was to stay here, or go back to Hispania to finish what he started. 

You felt so conflicted, you didn’t like him being here and acting like… like he was acting with you, and yet, the thought of him leaving again made your stomach turn.

And yet, before you knew it, you were receiving your mother in the Atrium, she wrapped her arms around your frame, pulling you close.

She even smells different, like spices and sea breeze, like lavender and the beach. Then she greeted Marcus, with kisses on both cheeks. Like they had done their entire life, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then why did you feel like someone had your stomach inside their fist and was squeezing?

Her skin had darkened, and she honestly looked happy, more happy, her eyes were shining, and she looked like she was glowing, her hair even looked more golden, if that was even possible, maybe it was the contrast of her tanned skin. 

She gazed upon the new walls of your home with wide eyes of admiration, she looked past the image in the pool in the atrium. 

She praised the way you had fixed the triclinium to accommodate you for dinner, and the spread that was there ready for you all to eat.

Marcus had this proud smile on his face, looking at everything with shiny eyes of admiration, including you.

You did not know what it meant, so you took position, laying on the sofas around a table where you had placed the spread of food. 

You wanted to eat, you were hungry, but as you sat there, looking down at your plate, you couldn't, you couldn’t take a single bite, your stomach clenching inside you. The hunger, as you looked up to your mother and Marcus deep in friendly conversation, turned to sickness, you wanted to throw up.

They were catching up, with his trip, of his health and her recent marriage and trip to Greece, you had always wanted to go to Greece, but alas, you never even left Rome. You looked at Marcus and his eyes were trailed on her. And you wanted to hear what your mother had to say… you did, you wanted to hear all about it, and also about Hispania, since you haven’t asked Marcus, because first he was recuperating and then you were ignoring him, so… 

There was indeed something new about this though, from one second to the next he would turn to you, to gaze upon you, to talk in your direction as well, or rather to see if you were spying attention to what was being said. You were staring at him, at the way he looked at you, and then at the way he turned and looked at your own mother.

Oh gods, where you loosing it?

“You haven’t eaten anything dear”, your mother pointed out with a soft smile, that smile that a bit ago would make you feel guilty for even thinking about something that was wrong, and now? You even resented it

“I'm not hungry”, you mumbled

“You haven't eaten anything since breakfast”, Acacius pointed out

More than your husband he sounded like your father 

“Are you unwell?”, asked Lucilla then, concerned washing her beautiful features, as you gazed upon her, you truly understood Acacius, she was one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen, she stood as Juno, mother of Gods, wife of Jupiter himself, and far removed from her… were you.

They constantly told you that you looked like your father, you didn’t know if that was good or bad, but none ever told you that you looked like your mother. 

That could explain many things…

You snapped back to reality when you felt Acacius´ thick hand enveloping yours, making you jump at the sudden touch, at the sudden warmth

“Should I fetch the medicus?”, he asked, as your mother, the concern twisted his face

“No!”, you said quickly, releasing your hand from Acacius' hold, the rash movement was perceived by your mother, who frowned at it, as both your hands above the table were two mice fighting for a piece of bread, who shouldn't be there in the first place. 

Marcus hand closed, grabbing thin air, still where you left it in between you. “I need some fresh air”, you choked out, your nose prickling with upcoming tears, “Could I be excused?”, You stood anyways, Marcus looked up at you and nodded, barely, eyes shiny and parted lips, as you were breaking his heart simply by leaving the triclinium 

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like there wasn’t enough air. So, you went to the garden, the small garden you had built that was barely blooming 

The sound of crickets far away and water of the fountain immediately soothed you; the air was fresh and smelled incredible, even know, the flowers that Thulia had manage to transplant from another garden outside these walls had manage to take in here, so the smell of jasmine meet you there. You plucked a beautiful flower from the plant near the entrance of the garden, and you sat on the sole stone bench by the fountain, the impluvium

You sank your nose in the soft petals, breathing in the delightful smell.

Your mother always had in hand lavenders, to hide the smell of the people of Rome, but you, as you could, always grabbed a couple of jasmine flowers to soothe your senses. 

As you sat there, hidden by the darkness that shielded the garden of the lights of the house around it, you looked back to where you came from, to the triclinium on the other side of the atrium, looming over you, closing you in, the one that was supposed to become your home, your safe haven, the home to your family, and children. Now you felt suffocated by it, like you couldn’t breathe in there, like you had in your back the weight of the entire building. 

You wanted to escape, to run away, you closed your eyes and you imagined the woods surrounding the west side of the city, the ones you could see from Palatine Hill. And once you were there, at least in your mind, you played a small mental game you used to enjoy when you were little. Surviving in the woods

You imagine you could take your horse, little provisions, and then gallop in the woods until you couldn’t see anymore, you wondered if you could make it out there, alone, could you hunt? Keep yourself warm? Could you hunt down wolves and meat for you to eat? You didn’t even know how to use the bow and arrow… but how hard can it be, really?

Could you find clean water and shelter? 

As a small child, the very thought made you tremble and made you be thankful that you didn’t have to, but right now, the darkness, woods and wolves lurking in the dark seemed much more enticing than staying here… Trapped, trapped, used and betrayed. 

You found your reflection in the water and gaze upon it, your face drawn in the water, it seemed a normal face, the same one you had gaze upon since you could remember, and you wondered what was wrong with you. Why didn’t Marcus want you?

You had many prospects that wanted your hand in marriage, and you could have been loved by any of them. Why did you find yourself married to the only man who didn’t want you?

A tear, followed closely by another ran down your cheeks

You wanted to love and be loved, you had so much love to give your chest burned with emotion, gripping your breaths hostage… this isn't fair… 

Tears turned to gasps, gasps turned to cries, and then to sobs, the water had been released and there was no controlling it anymore. 

“I don’t deserve this!”, you finally cracked, hiding your bitter tears behind the palm of your hands.

You felt so angry, so angry you were shaking.

You felt manipulated, you felt betrayed and used… You were feeling so many things that you believed you were going to snap, your body trying to relieve that tension in uncontrollable shakes.

You started to loose control of your own sobs, so much so you had trouble breathing 

“Domina!”, from a second to the next, Thulia was there in front of you, grabbing you softly by your shoulders, “breathe”, she commanded, and you did just that, took a long breath, she left you for a moment and when she came back she had something in her hand, “drink”, you didn’t even thought about it.

It was strong and smelly, but passing something on your throat made you relax a bit, and as the seconds passed, you realized that she had given you something to… calm yourself. 

And it worked, soon you were crying silently as your airways cleared and you could actually breathe freely. 

“Let me escort you to your room”, she said softly. You tried to shake your head, to say you needed to go back to your mother and husband, your mind became cloudy, the fear of them being together strangely present in your now idled mind. 

But you could barely walk as the seconds passed, but she was stronger than she looked, so she grabbed you and took you to your rooms.

Silence reigned at your departure. Both Marcus and Lucilla following you with their gaze as you left the villa

“What is going on?”, she asked, concerned as she looked at her friend

“I’m not sure”, he whispered, “I will make sure the medicus checks on her”, he assured her

“Is she with child?”, she asked with a small smile on her face

“No”, he said so surely, it made her frown. 

“You should check on her’’, she said after a long pause, he was going to say something, but then Thulia came with urgent eyes, looking straight at Marcus

“The domina was feeling unwell”, she said with warning “I have taken her to her rooms”, they both raised from the sofas quickly, “she is asleep”, she said, and it seemed so odd for Marcus, how could you have gotten sleep so quickly?

“What happened?”, he demanded, with his strong voice that made the sweet servant tremble in front of him.

“She was really upset”, she said, “she couldn’t breathe, so I gave her Valeriana to sleep”, she left quickly after that, leaving the both of them in the triclinium, sharing concerned looks. 

“Acacius”, she called, “did I make the right choice?”, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, her voice was tainted with disappointment, and it broke Marcus’ heart, “are you neglecting her?”, he wouldn’t quite use that word, but right now, as those words washed over him like a tidal wave, he came to the hard realization that maybe he had….

Did he?

“I’m so sorry…”, he whispered, “I thought I could… I thought that letting her have her space and her freedom was going to be enough, to keep her content, and to protect her”, he whispered. 

“Oh Acacius”, she sighed, “you might know how to conquer cities, but you know little of conquering women”, she said with a lament

“Lucilla, I am sorry”, he said, “I am here to protect her…”

“You married her”, she remind him, “I did not intent for you to keep her in a shelf”

“Lucilla”, he did not know what to do with this conversation.

“If you are not going to do this right, don’t do this at all”, she said, “we are breaking her heart Acacius”, she whispered sadly.

And now he didn’t know what to say.

You opened your eyes and you were met with your uncle’s deep piercing gaze, looking down upon you, those ghostly blue eyes, darkened by those deep dark circles under his eyes. 

“Uncle Commodus?”, your childish voice sounded so foreign, “what are you doing?”, you asked after you giggled

“I watch you sleep littlest princess”, he said simply

“Why?”, you asked him

“You sleep so peacefully”, he explained, with that sharp voice of his, “tell me something little one…”, you just looked at him expectantly, “do you sleep so well because you are so loved?”

“Ah!”, you awoke, shaken, sitting on the bed. Your chest ached and you felt your heart beating so hard you thought it was going to come out by your mouth.

It felt so real, like the former Emperor had been right there in front of you. 

When you came to your senses you realized you were in your room, the sun barely gazing upon the horizon. 

Marcus was right there, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair, he was asleep but as soon as he sensed you had shifted he opened his eyes slowly. 

Your mother was sitting on the other side of your bed. Had she slept here in your villa last night? Where is she and Marcus?... you looked back at him and you felt nauseous

“What happened?”, you asked, you felt groggy

“You were so upset, Thulia gave you something to make you sleep”, explained your mother, caressing your cheek, but unlike the times before, her touch made you uneasy, it didn’t soothe you.

She must have known

How could she not? you could even tell now as you saw the way Marcus looked at her, so, she must have known he loved her. 

She knew and she married you to him anyway, was all of this just some sick game to her? you never thought she could be so cruel, but the proof was there. 

“How are you feeling?”, your face turned to Acacius, he seemed really concerned. You looked at him, and then back at your mother, only the three of you in the room. 

You wanted to cry again

“I’ll leave you both alone”, said your mother with a shy smile, “I should go back home”.

“Actually…”, you said quickly, “I would like to rest, alone”, you begged them, they exchanged concerned looks and Marcus even had the decency to look hurt by your words

“Of course”, he said, rising from the stool by the side of your bed, and they both left the room.

You dozed off a bit after they left, your mind clouded with images of the past, of your uncle, of your brother, of the fear after your grandfather’s passing, the uncertainty. You were older than Lucius, you remember more vividly, your mother’s fear, the way she kept you guarded and in a separate wing at the palace, now you had the perspective of adulthood you understood why…. the attitude your uncle had, regarding your mother… the danger you were all in… 

Why were you dreaming about him now? After all this time?

Marcus himself entered your room slowly, looking at you with his big eyes. 

“I wished to speak to you, wife”, he said softly. You feared what he had to say, but he seemed relaxed, not like he was about to tell you he was divorcing you because he loved your mother and she loved him too and they were going to finally get married and abandon you…

You were spiraling

“Yes Acacius”, you said softly

“Marcus”, he said, frowning

“Marcus”, you offered. you played with your fingers nervously. 

“Wife”, he called, oh he wanted your whole attention, you raised your head to look at him, you still find it odd that he called you that, before he left for Hispania, he used to call you by your name only, “the medicus and I believe, that for my recovering health, it would be best if we retreated to the country”, he said, and that truly surprised you, “As you know, I have a villa at the edge of lake Bracciano, up north the Via Clodia”, he explained softly, and that truly sounded like a dream.

He seemed to relax once he saw your small smile.

Oh so he wasn’t going to run away with your mother, he wanted to take you with him, alone… 

“We should”, you encouraged, “we should go, for your health”

Something strange happened, as for the very first time since he was married to you, he seemed to truly… see you… he gazed upon you, upon your face, with something you would have liked to see on the day you married him. 

But he was… again… playing with you, probably.

But the thought of going to the country truly excited you. You could take Luna, you were certain she was going to be happy in the country, free and with all the grass she could eat… and you too… 

Maybe just maybe… you could hold on into a bit of hope.

PCN: I don't like it when chapters have too many "spacers", but i think this is neccesary, you know? to amrk a "change of scene", I ask for forgiveness for any writting mistakes, I was -as always- excited to post this! JEJEJEE

“El embrujo” it's a cumbia song from an artist I like 😂 the song states that "everyones" saying that this woman put a spell on him, on the singer, because he had have many lovers, but he loves her so much she probably “bewtiched him” and then he goes on and says “so what? if its true, let it be! Enchanted and bewitched by you, so what? I’m happy, do not broke this spell on me” hahahaha, Marcus is now somewhat enchanted and we don’t want anything to do with with! talk about timing!

taglist @orcasoul @peelieblue @raynetargaryan2 @thereallchristine @sesdeuxyeux @melsunshine @thelastemzy @vjuvbbjugv @cloudroomblog @capycapy-bara @lokiwife2021 @whirlwindrider29 @peepawispunk @syd-maximoff @ayoungpascallover

[morlock-holmes]

I've had a revelation about this quite suddenly from your post, @duran-duran-less-official

The reason immigration opponents focus so heavily on the "illegal" part is that it makes whatever the immigration system does to a person *that person's fault, not the fault of the immigration system*.

The US immigration system, and all immigration systems, do terrible, heart-wrenching things to people which would normally be considered, you know, torture. But if the immigrant could have avoided it by acting right, then it's not our fault, it's the immigrant's fault, and now we don't have to feel any moral horror when we read about people forced to sleep on a cold concrete floor with no contact with their loved ones because they did something bad to deserve it and really it's their fault, not ours.

I sound dismissive of this attitude it's because I am, but not quite as much as you might think.

Normally, tackling someone to the ground, forcing their arms behind their back, and shoving them into the back of a vehicle is assault and kidnapping. But if the cops do it to a person who is brandishing a knife and screaming threats at random people in a public park, that's bravery in policing and we're pretty justified in saying, "Maybe if you don't want that to happen, don't threaten people with a deadly weapon."

Everything ICE does has to be a reaction to people who were flauting the law *because it would be morally abominable if they were doing it to people who couldn't avoid it*

Which is why I keep harping on and on about legal immigrants and legal residents, not because I agree that the illegals deserve to be tortured, but because the narrative that we only do this to people who choose to break the law is false. It is a lie. The story above reveals it to be a lie.

An actual immigration system has to deal with cases like,

I got a tip-off that the regime of my country is planning to kill me, so I fly to the US, duly turn myself in to the authorities and apply for asylum;

I am in the US on a work visa, but my job keeps me as a virtual slave and is withholding my salary and passport. They say that they will fire me if I go to the authorities and if I'm fired I will be deported;

Last time I was in the US I overstayed my tourist visa by three days and just didn't think much of it. I then applied for, and was granted, another tourist visa but it was revoked halfway through my stay. I am willing accept this and will pay for a ticket home as quickly as possible;

I am here on a visa which is about to expire, but I was in a terrible car accident and the doctors say I shouldn't be moved.

The previous administration had a program which allowed me to apply for citizenship, but the current administration has abruptly revoked it.

I am in the country applying for a work visa but due to circumstances I was not aware of, it was rejected. I am perfectly willing to return to my country of origin at my own expense as soon as I can buy a ticket home.

Throwing these people in mass cells with no beds, where the lights are kept on all day and night and you sleep on a concrete floor is really hard to justify unless you find a way to pretend that those people did something wrong, that if they did something else they wouldn't be in that cell and so really it's their fault that they are there.

If we were doing this to people who hadn't done anything wrong and were just trying to follow the rules as well as they could in the circumstances, we would be fucking monsters, so in order for us not to be fucking monsters we have to insist that they did something wrong.

Seriously, the actual legality doesn't matter. There's a story at the top of this post about someone who is absolutely not an illegal immigrant, and a bunch of people responding by pretending that she is, because if she wasn't then there's no fucking excuse for this.

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.

[leashybebes]

However— well, is Tommy a reliable narrator to himself? Sure, Eddie basically stopped talking to him, but what about Tommy? Did he also delay replying to the 118 so that the time between messages stretched out? Did he think they were only trying to be nice by keeping in touch with their teammates’ ex (never mind that he was Hen and Howie’s teammate first) and he’d prefer to not have their ‘pity’ and cut them off (again)? Did he cut them off preemptively and doesn’t see it that way because if he did then he’d have to also face the fact that he’s a little messed up? We probably don’t have time for them to delve into all of this on screen but it’s interesting to chew on. For reasons.

(Chim gets a pass for the post-throat slashing time of no contact because he was… let’s say preoccupied.)

oh 100% hang on let me get my coffee

okay, SO. mr unreliable narrator over here, mr enjoy it while it lasts, is never going to be the one with the full picture, because he sets it up that way - intentional or not, i feel like tommy is someone who has his view of the world and his role in it and just quietly, fatalistically makes that happen.

so i can totally see a world where no one from the 118 reaches out, full stop. but, y'know, phones work both ways, thomas. BUT. for tommy, that's buck's family. they're buck's people. (and look, my wife has a much closer relationship with her family than i do, and a much larger circle of friends, and it took me WAY longer than six months to start feeling like they were our people, not her people i got to hang out with through her.)

we know that tommy's a jealous guy, and we also get the sense that he's pretty fatalistic, so if no one reaches out, i can see that landing for him as "well, obviously. they never really wanted me around, of course i was never gonna be part of that" and just exacerbating his envy, but also his sense that that chapter of his life is Over Now. i can see the lack of contact from hen and chim actually not stinging that much (or tommy telling himself it doesn't sting that much, genuinely believing that, my king of unexamined feelings) because they're not friends, right? chim calls him when he needs a favour, but they're not close. he's not on hen's christmas card list (and that's genuinely fine, i mean zero shade to anyone involved here. they were friends by the time he left the 118 but for all we know they were mostly or entirely work friends). so i can see his internal monologue about that, his confirmed belief being 'well, hell, i wasn't enough for them to want around on my own merits before, why would i be now'. (again, this is not shade on hen or chim. phones work both ways and my special little guy is fucked in the head.)

eddie's gotta sting a little more because they were friends, right? actual friends. but if we're taking tommy at face value, then we have to assume he feels some kinda way about being friends with eddie once he and buck are together. i don't think he actually thinks anything is happening/has happened/will happen with buck and eddie, but we do get this delicious hint with that little scoff about eddie's straightness that maybe tommy has experience of that queer classic - losing years of your life being besotted with your ride or die straight bestie (sal!!!! but uh. that's a separate post.).

i lost my thought. wait. okay, so i think one of the fundamental mismatches is that for six months buck was in an x-rated rom-com and tommy was navigating something unbelievably fucking complicated because talking? communicating? who does that when you can just make up a scenario and stick to it like your life depends on it. (worth noting there's no way that scenario ends well for him, but uh, that's why i love him. go listen to settle for me from crazy ex girlfriend lol)

i can ALSO see the other part of what you said. tommy says eddie 'pretty much' or 'basically' (can't remember the wording right now and not in a position to check) stopped talking to him which does leave room for some contact. (it could also be read as a kind of deflection of the ouch of it all but ymmv.) so i can see a world where eddie sends a 'man wtf happened?' message which...tommy's not going to reply to that. he's just not. but changing the subject immediately is too obvious so he has to wait a while to say something innocuous, and it just kind of fizzles out.

whatever happens, whether it was zero contact or intermittent, declining contact, my special little guy, my world champion runner, my sad sad man was 100% thinking 'yeah, that tracks'. we definitely don't have time for the show to delve into that, and honestly it's not really that kind of show so i wouldn't expect it, but rest assured i am C H E W I N G

[lemotmo]

911 8x11 thoughts and ruminations

Okay! I’m just going to word vomit here!

I cannot order my thoughts rationally, because I’m so damn excited and happy!

Bobby stuff first because I need to ramble about Buddie afterwards:

Parental redemption AGAIN! I get WHY they did it and I like HOW they did it, but I don’t think his mom deserved this redemption so quickly to be honest. She is sick and they don’t have much time left, but a lot of shit happened to Bobby and she should have protected her kid at all costs. That is what you do as a mother. So yeah, I feel conflicted about this storyline. It was acted really well, I understand where they are coming from and let’s not forget Aisha’s awesome direction. But it was too quick. They never really hashed out what went wrong.

As for the Buck and Buddie of it all… I mean, I’m sure some of the Tommies will try to make it about Tommy again, but really? Who would be delusional then? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

This was ALL about Eddie and Buck being really in love with him, without recognizing it. The man is in some serious denial.

The way that he had trouble living in Eddie's house was so good. He keeps thinking about him. I love how he tried to make the house his own in the end, but he ended up putting up furniture in the exact same spots Eddie's things were. He was basically recreating Eddie's house. It was soooo obvious. LOVED THAT SO MUCH!!!

The BT making out scene was mild and it was clearly all about the sex of it. Buck even questioned why Tommy was still there in the morning. Tommy was obviously more hopeful then Buck. Buck didn’t even think about him and Tommy getting back together. He was just all about EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE!

Tommy basically slept with him because ‘the competition was gone’. I mean!!! Tommy clocked Buck’s ass so fast! And then his reaction to Buck’s ‘Eddie’s straight’. WHAT? What was that Tommy? Tommy clocked Eddie’s ass as well. This is so wild! WE ARE FINALLY HERE! They are questioning Buck’s feelings for Eddie and Eddie’s sexuality! I mean… this is it. This is what we have been waiting for all along! The plot deviced plot deviced and pushed Buddie to the front of the narrative. So the slowburn is officially slowburning and everyone in the GA witnessed it!

Then Buck talks to Maddie, who also doesn’t seem very convinced that buck isn’t in love with Eddie AND even seemed to question Eddie's straightness. What??? And then Buck decides to apologise to Tommy and try being alone. But not without mentioning Eddie’s name a hundred more times. AAAH!

And poor Ravi! He must be soooo sick of the Eddie stories by now.

GOOD TIMES!

And no… no matter what anyone said in the post interviews… no… this is not them closing Buddie down. What are they going to say? They cannot tell the truth, because that would spoil the storyline. NAH! They’ll keep quiet about for sure. So don't go dooming and glooming about this, okay? It'll all be all right in the end. Trust the narrative! Trust the story they are obviously telling here! Trust your eyes and your common sense!🙂‍↕️

I’m thinking they actually might switch this up. They might have Eddie realise and accept he is in love with Buck first, before Buck realises. Because Buck is in full denial right now, while everyone can see that he doesn’t know his own emotions on this.

I feel like I can finally take a breath. After seven seasons they are finally going there.

What a great episode! I loved it. The Bobby and Bobby’s mom story was questionable, but it was still entertaining, so yeah…

I probably forgot to mention a lot of other stuff, but I can’t think of anything but Buddie right now. My mind is going crazy. I can’t stop smiling!