#almost teared up thinking about how much i love women and how happy i am to accept that earlier

[napping-sapphic]

There really is something so magical about loving women for me like i love getting passing crushes and thinking someone is beautiful or handsome or cute, a girl can make me blush once and i’ll feel like im floating for the rest of the week

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ i love you, im sorry

pair: caitlin clark x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you’ve been in a secret relationship with caitlin and you’ve finally had enough

hi loves! i don’t know why i wrote this lmao i was feeling angsty but dw there’s a happy ending :) i hope yall enjoy love u!!

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“i wasn’t saying we go public now, cait. i was just asking if you thought we could sometime soon,” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“god y/n, you know this stresses me out. i don’t know what to tell you, i can’t predict when we’ll go public. i just need time.” she covers her face with her hands, sighing.

you and caitlin had been dating for almost a year now, in private. the two of you had met back at iowa where you’d been a manger for the women’s basketball team and she’d been a player. the plan was to come out together as a couple after she graduated, but once that happened, caitlin was too nervous about the worlds opinion of her. then she said she would include your relationship in her draft speech, but she was too afraid. she was the #1 draft pick of course and more eyes than ever had tuned into her and the wnba. she kept telling you that after her first season, your guys’ secret could be shared. but the more and more you waited, the more and more exhausted you became keeping up with this secret. you started to think you’d have to live this way forever.

“i understand cait, i just hate living this way. i want to show you off and take you out on real dates. you are so important to me and i just hate hiding this part of my life,” you sigh. her face turned red, anger creeping onto it.

“i am the biggest name in the wnba right now, what do you expect me to do? you know i love you, but all eyes are on me and this could ruin my reputation. i’m in the running for rookie of the year, y/n, i need to focus on that.” she exclaims, throwing her arms into a shrug.

you felt a tear fall. this could ruin my reputation, she had said. “oh i’m so sorry that i could ruin your reputation. maybe you should’ve thought of that before asking me to move here and spend my life with you. you say you love me, but you’re a coward. is that how you want to live your life? hiding who you are? you told me we’d go public once we graduated, but that didn’t happen. then draft night and that didn’t happen either. what now? what about what i want? i understand that you’re under the public eye more than ever right now, but i wont sit around and wait forever.” you stand up, making your way toward your shared bedroom.

“where are you going? can we please just talk about this? i promise we’ll go public at the end of the season.” caitlin follows you and sees you packing a bag.

“i’m going to stay with lauren for a bit, i guess i just need some time too.” you say, shoveling clothes into the bag. maybe staying with your sister was best for you right now. you understood caitlin, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t break your heart a little more every time she went back on her word. you knew coming out wasn’t easy and especially when everyone was watching her, but you hated being led on. you loved her so much and couldn’t imagine your life without her, but if she was going to keep you hidden forever then you just couldn’t do it.

“please y/n, don’t go. i love you.” she pleads, grabbing your arm and trying to stop you for walking out the door. you rip your arm away.

“i love you too, but i deserve better than being your secret. i wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation,” you say with a sad smile and walk out the door. you truly loved her more than anything in this world, but when she went back on her word so much it was hard to trust her. you knew how hard this was on her, but it was hard on you too.

a few days after your argument, caitlin had tried to reach out everyday. you told her you needed some space and you’d talk to her when you were ready. caitlin on the other hand was going insane, worrying every second of the day. you were the best thing that had happened to her and she just let you get away like that? no, it wasn’t right. this wasn’t how you ended. caitlin knew that you were beginning to not trust her anymore, she was just so afraid of what everyone else would say. she felt exactly how you felt though. she was exhausted and was suffocating. she hated hiding who she was, and even more than that, she hated hiding you. especially every time she was asked if she was seeing anyone and she had to say no, she was focused on basketball. she hated disappointing you. she knew what she had to do. what she needed to do.

you settled on your sisters couch, laptop in your lap with the fever game on. caitlin was playing lights out, earning her first triple double and the first for a rookie. the fever ended up winning with a huge upset against the new york liberty. you were ecstatic for her, but you still felt a massive pit in your stomach due to your argument. nonetheless, she was still the girl you loved and you had to congratulate her.

you: congrats cait, i’m so proud of you

cait<3: thank you baby, i’m so sorry again. tune in for my post game interview?

you: of course

you turn on her post game interview, her sitting beside her teammate aliyah and her coach. they answered the standard questions, caitlin answering a few more because of her triple double. you can’t help but smile and feel proud of how hard she works. she deserves this. although you’re still upset with her, you can’t help but feel like you may have been a bit selfish. she has worked so hard for this moment and you didn’t want your relationship to become the big headline instead of her talent. sighing, you grab your phone to text her as her interview ends. then you hear her voice.

“wait. uh before we go, i just have something i want to say. i am so grateful for my teammates, coaches, and fans support, but none of this would be possible without the support of my girlfriend. our relationship is the most important thing in my life and i’ve been hiding it because i was scared… but im not scared anymore. i want to show her off and i want everyone to know her like i know her because she is amazing. y/n, if you’re watching this and i really hope you are, i love you and i really hope i see you at home,” she finishes with a smile. then she walks out. the room goes dead silent before the interview ends and the camera shuts off.

you were speechless. you couldn’t believe she just did that. everybody would know about the two of you now. after staring at your screen for what feels like an eternity in shock, you grab your bag and dash out of your sisters apartment. you quickly arrive back at your and caitlin’s apartment, sprinting up the stairs. you rush into the apartment and see caitlin sitting on the couch, hands covering her face. once she hears you open the door, she stands and takes a deep breath.

��cait i… i don’t know what to say. are you okay? im so sorry, i never meant to pressure you! your career is important and we can wait until-“ the words come flying out of your mouth, but she cuts you off. you are undoubtedly happy that you can finally live freely with her, but you still feel some guilt as she walks over to where you’re standing.

“baby just stop. you were right. you didn’t pressure me to do anything. i was a coward and i was miserable keeping us a secret. i love you and im so sorry for saying you would ruin my reputation. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and i want you and everybody else to know that. the world deserves to know my beautiful girl, just like i do.” she breathes, putting her hands on your shoulders to bring you closer. she engulfs you into her arms and you release a sigh of relief, mumbling an i love you into her neck. as nervous as you were to check social media and see what everyone was saying, the two of you felt the happiest you’d been and you couldn’t wait to share each other with the world.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You hardly see him for weeks. Any new wife would expect her husband to impress his needs upon her frequently after the wedding night in hopes of creating an heir but you almost knew he wouldn’t. There’s something so strange about Cregan Stark; he’s empathetic. It’s not a trait you knew any man could hold. In reality, you should be pleased that your husband doesn’t wish to rape you but you’re more frustrated. He shall want for a son eventually, won’t he? This is only delaying the inevitable and you are a ‘get it over with’ kind of woman.

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I have done all I can to make you comfortable, all I can to make you feel welcomed and at every turn, you insult me! You have spent your entire life as the spoilt daughter of the Queen and for that, I do not blame you but I can only be so lenient. You will no longer take liberties with how you speak to me. I am your husband and you will learn to treat me as such.” He breathes heavily after letting all his emotions go. “Even princesses don’t speak to their spouses in the way you speak to me.”

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“Is that truly what you think? Are you really so naive as to believe that? Everyone of our station marries for advantage. I am no different and neither are you.” Even when he shouted at you only moments ago, he never sounded as hateful as he does right now.

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“It isn’t fair for you to fault me for wanting something more when you’re also unhappy with it… especially when you know it’s more difficult for women than men.” You desperately want him to understand you. You just want somebody to understand.

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

You stare into the mirror when you arrive. Would your mother be disappointed by how disagreeable you are, how disobedient? Daemon wouldn’t. But you aren’t Daemon Targaryen. You’re just a girl, a girl that might ruin an alliance if you can’t make nice with your husband. Should you care? Your stepfather wouldn’t. Dragon riders don’t obey societal norms… but you do care… ever so slightly.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“I should not have shouted at you. I just feel as though I’m not heard when I’m quiet but that is no justification.” He stares at the back of your head. You don’t turn to face him, looking out the window instead of at the mirror. This is your home now. He will become your home - he could become your home.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

[yeonmuse]

WHICH FLOOR? | Day 14

PAIRING vocalist & drummer mingi x stranger reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

SUMMARY two complete strangers meet in an elevator, how could this possibly escalate?

MORE | Day 14 of the Groupie Love Series

You were completely fucking exhausted, a night of concerts, drinking and afterparties had you completeky beat. You were more than happy the moment you stepped into the elevator of your hotel. As you close your eyes for a moment of rest, and lie your head against the elevator wall you could sense the presence of someone else stepping onto the elevator. It's when you hear the doors close and you feel the movement of the elevator that you open your eyes and they land on him who had already been staring at you.

That someone was none other than song mingi, one of the hottest drummers to ever grace the stage. The very drummer that you had just seen perforning hours ago.

“Which floor?”

“Hm?” You had been a little too busy checking him out to even register a thing that he had been saying. Of course it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“You didn’t press anything, what floor are you on?”

“15.” You respond dryly, trying to brush off the fact that you wanted absolutely nothing more than to jump his bones right now. As he pressed the number to you he seemed to observe you for a moment.

“You look like you had a fun night.”

“Do i?”

“Mm looks like it to me, otherwise it's just a waste of an outfit.” He responds, drinking you in from head to toe.

“Mm i wouldn’t call your concert and street party a waste, thanks to your band i had a good time.”

“Oh? Too bad I didn’t see you there, I think I could have elevated your time a little more.”

��Is that right? Even with all your groupies lined up at your door?”

“Kinda disappointing that you yourself weren’t one of them” It was like he was challenging you to bite back, and one thing about you you never backed down from a challenge.

“Mm sorry but I prefer your lead guitarist, though I am truly flattered.” He chuckles at your response and Before you had known it he had stopped the elevator and caged you between himself and the wall.

“I’m sure with a little alone time I can change your mind.” He gave you no time to resist, not that you would anyways, the way your fingers tangled in his hair almost instantaneously gave him all the confirmation he needed.

He wasted no time tearing off your clothes and lifting you against the wall before going between your thighs. He eyed your every reaction as he slid his tongue through your folds, his eyes flickering with a desperate hunger as he became overwhelmed with the heat of your body and the sweet sounds that left your lips. As your eyes met his and you spotted that cocky smirk on his lips, part of you wanted to pull away. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you feeling quite weak. With a soft chuckle he immediately pulled his face from between your legs and licked his lips. He could tell you were struggling with your desires along with your urge to spite him. He knew very well you were annoyed with how confident he was in the way he could make you crumble, you knew he must have done this countless times with countless women but honestly you couldn’t care less.

“Still thinking about hongjoong?” a devilish smirk covered his lips and as he leaned down to slide his tongue over your thigh he felt your body jerk beneath him. His long tongue slipped between your folds as he eyed you continue to struggle with your thoughts. You couldn’t believe that even when he had you in such a compromising position he was bringing up his band mate.

“Go on angel, tell me how much you like him yeah? Is he your favorite sweetheart?” Before you could manage even one word his lips wrapped around your lips and he began to suck at your clit. This earned a frustrated moan from you, when he treated your body in such ways there was no way you’d let out any words that were remotely coherent.

“I’m waiting doll, let me hear it.” His tongue began to lap at your folds like he was hungry for it. his nails digging into your thighs with every whine or moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips. It made him hungrier for it, hungrier to hear you crying and begging beneath him.

When he was met with continued silence he removed his lips from your soaked cunt to kiss along your thighs. His teeth grazed the skin of your inner thighs earning a whimper on your part. A whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by him caused him to do it again. His eyes remained trained on your face as he continued to tease your body with his teeth and tongue alone. He felt your grip on his hair tighten

"Quit playing with me and just fuck me already, you’re going to do it whether I like him or not right?.'' You could practically feel the smirk on his lips against your thigh.

“I’ll make sure to train you well enough that any time you even look at him you’ll only think about the way I fucked you in this elevator.”

“He’s certainly hard to forget-” before you could even finish you felt him push past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach

“Go on, finish your sentence doll.” He continued to jerk his hips up into you knowing that if he kept at it you wouldn’t be able to say a word.

He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Funny, the moment you get stuffed like a pretty little cocksleeve you immediately go mute.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails dug into the only available surface they could latch onto; his shoulders. He watched as your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

“Fuck.” The sound of your desperate cries and stifled moans spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Look at you pretty girl, you like him so much yet here you are taking my dick like some sort of cockslut, do you think he’d still fuck you if he knew his bandmate got to you first?” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“I bet you’d like to get tossed around by us right? You don’t really have a favorite do you? Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock, all while thinking about how all of us could use you.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for him to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock along with the desk in mere seconds. Mingi wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way your tight cunt clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill his load into you.

“Tomorrow.” He tilts your head up and brushes his thumb over your swollen lips.

“I check out tomorrow, be ready to go by 8 o'clock. The others wouldn’t mind if you tagged along for the rest of the tour.”

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒉 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 7 of Betrayal Summary: How much was he willing to sacrifice to bring her back, and how much will be taken from him as consequence? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, Grief, Betrayal

The room was empty when Azriel opened his eyes. It hadn’t been like the last few times he had ‘woken up’, though he didn’t remember those instances much. While the fog hadn’t fully lifted from his mind, he could finally register the things around him. The overwhelming amount of white in the room, accents of gold, the curtains that had been drawn to let less light in, but not enough that he couldn’t tell how Gods damned bright it was outside. 

Day, he was in the Day court. There was no doubt in his mind. But why had he been brought here?

Trying to sit up was difficult. He didn’t feel pain, didn't see any evidence of injuries, but his muscles felt so stiff, and his wings felt like dead weight. 

His stomach dropped at the realization. 

Reaching to feel his wings, he let out a breath when he realized they weren’t numb and with albeit much more effort than usual, he could move them. 

They are coming, they aren’t happy his shadows sang.

A second later the door opened and in walked Madja and Amren, the two he had first seen when he was still in his muddled state. They weren’t as angry looking as before, but that didn’t mean much, because they were certainly still mad.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, boy?” 

Azriel didn’t answer Amren, he didn’t have an answer, he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You know very well it was not your place to mess with that kind of magic, Shadowsinger.” Madja said in a much calmer tone, but that didn’t hide the disapproval that counted her words.

He would have been pissed off at the interrogation, would have grumbled at the continued questioning when he had no idea what the hell they were talking about, if he hadn’t seen the bags underneath both their eyes, and the concern and worry manifested into deep frown lines on their faces.

His confusion must have been visible, because their questions stopped and their anger softened, as much as it could for the two women who typically looked angry. “You- you don’t remember?” Amren stuttered.

Amren never stuttered.

“I have no idea what I am being accused of” He answered honestly. 

The two women looked at each other, then back at the Illyrian.

“Maybe we should get Helion in here” Madja said to Amren as she turned around and walked out.

So he was in Day.

“Amren, please, you aren’t one to sugar coat things.” He begged.

She looked at him and sighed, annoyed.

“They won’t be happy I am telling you this. They would want someone with more bedside manner to explain.” “That is why I need you to, you won’t dance around the truth. What happened?” 

She took a breath as she looked for the words, “You… you were in a bad state after the girl’s death, and it seems you got desperate enough to take your own life to stop the pain.”

Azriel felt the harsh reminder like a slap to the face, tears welling up in his eyes.

How had he forgotten about Adelaide’s death, about the hell he had gone through since? 

“Is that why I’m here? Did I…”

“No, no you didn’t, although your stupid actions might very well have gotten you killed.” She snapped. She took another breath as she tried to stop her anger from seeping through.

He had never seen her like this. As much as they were family, as much as he knew she did care for the inner circle, no matter how little she let it show, he knew she wouldn’t have been impacted this much by his attempted, or apparently his almost attempted, suicide. 

“That's when The Walking Dead found you. It's an old book, probably older than me. There is no recorded story to its creation, it's just something that has always been, preying on the desperate, giving them enough hope to try things they never would have had they been in their right mind.”

The book by her casket, the blank pages, the intervention by his family, the fight, the attempted resurrection. It all hit him at once, a wave of horrible emotions. 

She looked away as she saw him realize what he had done, and saw him go through all of those terrible moments once again. She didn’t comfort people, and Azriel wasn’t one who wanted to be comforted, at least not unless it was…

“Is she- Did it- Is Adelaide…” he couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t bear to hear that it had failed, that his last hope of getting her back was gone.

Before Amren could answer, the door opened again. Perfect fucking timing.

The High Lords of Day and Night walked in with urgency. 

Azriel had been so mad at Rhysand last time he had seen him, he tried to kill him for Gods’ sake, Rhys also hadn’t been too pleased at the attempted murder, but when the High Lord looked at his brother, bed bound and confused with tears pooling in his eyes, so utterly helpless, he couldn’t stop himself as he brought his Spymaster into a crushing hug and finally let out the sobs he had been fighting for so long. 

Azriel hadn’t felt this type of affection or even love from his brother for a while, he had been too busy hiding from Rhysand, stewing in his misery and hatred for his oldest friend, but as he sat there, disoriented, scared, hopeless, he couldn’t deny the fact he had to fight the urge to lean into the comfort the male was providing. He couldn’t deny the fact he felt more than just anger and hatred towards Rhysand. 

Still, he pulled back after a few seconds, Rhysand still sobbing as his knees buckled next to Azriel’s bed. 

“I’m sorry, Az. Gods know how sorry I am. I hadn’t realized- how much everything truly hurt until Cassian and Nesta found you had left bed” He had to take a moment as he hiccuped, an absolute mess on the ground, “I thought I-we thought we had finally lost you. I tried to tell myself these past few months that I could live with you hating me, I knew damn well I deserved it and that I hate myself too, that as long as you were still there, I could live like that.”

Rhysand looked into Azriel’s eyes, both brothers' faces covered in tears.

“But then we didn’t know if you were gone, didn’t know if you were still alive, and I realized I couldn’t do it, couldn’t live the rest of my life with the knowledge you hated me until the end.

I made the worst mistake of my life, something I will never forgive myself for. I was too cowardly to realize I couldn’t keep Adelaide and Feyre, and the minute I finally chose, I lost Adelaide forever.”

It was too much, Azriel couldn’t deal with all of this right now. Too many conflicting emotions, too many questions, too many-

“Alright, High Lord, that's enough.” Helion said. “Your Shadowsinger is in distress right now. You both can continue this conversation at a later time.” His voice was kind, understanding of both men’s situations, but his tone left no room for objection. 

“I-alright, I just need you to know how sorry I am, Az. How much I plan to do to right my wrongs, even if you both never forgive me.” Rhysand said as he got up, wiping his eyes. 

You both. He said you both. He didn’t just mean Azriel, he…

“It worked?” He asked with urgency, not replying to his brother's words. 

No one spoke up. “He said ‘you both’, did it work? Is Adelaide alive?” 

Anger bubbled in him as everyone remained quiet, unsure of how to proceed.

“Just tell me, damnit! Stop being cowards!” He yelled, tears continuing to spill. Maybe he misspoke, maybe Azriel got his hopes up just to be crushed once again. It wouldn’t have been the first time The Mother had played a cruel joke on him. 

Helion took a step forward, his calm demeanor gone, replaced by fear, reluctance, misery, and longstanding grief. “Yes, Azriel. She is alive…” The High Lord was still speaking to him, but Azriel couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears, over the spots that blocked his vision as he started breathing heavily, his body unable to process the information. 

She is alive, we saw her, she is alive, she is here his shadows sang. 

He needed to get up to see her. But that task proved impossible as Azriel tried to swing his legs over the bed. They didn’t move. As he tried again, jerking the upper half of his body so hard he would have fallen off the bed had Helion not grabbed his shoulders to steady him. 

“Azriel, stop, you'll hurt yourself.” The High Lord of Day said. 

The Illyrian once again looked at the faces in the room, waiting for an explanation. 

Once again, everyone but Helion proved to be a coward. “We don’t know the long term impacts of the spell, you and Adelaide…” Helion’s voice cracked while saying her name. It only hit Azriel then that of course he would be just as impacted by this, Helion had raised her from a babe. But Azriel hadn’t seen him since the funeral, his face controlled into a tight mask that made reading emotions impossible, even for the Spymaster. “You both were brought here to be looked after while our scholars and healers work on learning more. But what we have gathered hasn’t been… reassuring.”

“I knew coming into this I’d have to make a sacrifice, I still stand by that choice.” Azriel confirmed, he just needed people to be upfront with him. 

“You have… tied yourselves together. In bringing her back, you connected your individual beings. We don’t know how this will ultimately impact you both, not till we have both of you here with us. But it is good that you have woken up, for it must mean Adelaide is not far behind.” 

He would get to see her again, get to talk to her, get to…

Thinking of Adelaide now, he tried to ignore the new feelings bubbling inside him, things he hadn’t felt before. 

She was alive and she was here.

For the first time in 6 months, Azriel smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am not really an avid Purchaser of Objects but periodically I like to take stock of things I’ve bought that turned out to be excellent quality or worth investing in. here are my favorites:

thousandfell’s women’s lace-up sneakers. vegan leather and insanely comfy. took them as my only pair of shoes on a very walking-intensive trip to japan and south korea and ended up exclaiming aloud many times “god I can’t believe how comfy these are!!” they’ve lasted two full years of heavy wear and are still going strong.

the LL bean women’s mountain classic anorak. this is the only jacket I have ever needed in the PNW. it’s insanely lightweight so it’s perfect for brisk but not too cold days (and also amazing for travel as it folds down so small), BUT it’s also roomy enough that you can layer a sweatshirt under it and comfortably wear it outside in temps as low as 35 degrees. it also has SO MANY HUGE POCKETS which means I can carry everything I need for the dogs and the baby in just my jacket lol. like literally i can fit a bottle and diapers and wipes in it. I own it in two colors and wear it every single day.

able’s mamuye leather tote. I believe this was a rec from sasha? I had been searching high and low for a bag that looked professional for work but was still casual enough to use as an everyday or travel tote too. I wanted something simple, durable, and high quality enough that I could use it for a really long time. I splurged for the kind with a zipper and it was worth it! the one change is I wish it came with an organizer or had a bit more built-in structure. I got a cheap one off amazon which works fine and gives it a nice shape, but idk I might eventually buy the one they sell specifically for this bag. I love this bag so much that every time I see it I gasp inwardly at how beautiful it is and how fancy yet low-maintenance it looks. I think your favorite objects should be so beautiful to you they make your heart happy when you see them and this bag definitely qualifies.

karina dresses. the prints can be hit or miss and sell out pretty fast so you have to jump on the new collection releases when they email you. but almost every work dress I own is from this company and I love them so much. they’re super well made, flattering, and cut in a way that makes them very forgiving if your body (like mine) tends to fluctuate up and down in weight a lot. they are so forgiving that I didn’t have to buy any new maternity clothes for work—I just wore these through my whole pregnancy. the one thing that might not work for everyone: they’re made from a synthetic fabric, which means they never wrinkle and hang-dry very quickly, but also idk I do prefer the feel of cotton or linen or another more breathable natural fiber.

speaking of natural fibers: I also purchased a few skirts and a dress from pact (organic cotton basics) and I really like them so far but don’t yet know how they’ll hold up over time! so they get an honorary mention for now.

the thomasville tisdale sectional. this is the greatest couch ever made. I evangelize for it every opportunity I get. it’s so comfy and so gigantic. you can rearrange the modular pieces to form a very comfortable queen-sized bed if you don’t have a spare room or if you just want to have a really cozy movie night. I’ve had it for three years and it gets a lot of wear and tear with the dogs but it still looks and feels SO nice. plus it’s costco and their insane return policy means that if it falls apart in five years (it won’t) I could almost certainly still take it back and get a full refund. best! giant! couch! ever!!!!

ok that’s it lol everything else I own apart from art and quirky sentimental objects is kinda junk, or is just Fine but not worth writing home about. do you own high quality objects or clothing that you love recommending to other people? if so I want to hear about it.

[thevampiricnihal]

I cracked and read up to around chapter 15 of Ask-i memnu and I know this is not your main interest, but something that struck me is how modern Bihter and Peyker's relationship is, in the way that it feels like a cliché dynamic now but obviously it wasn't when it was written bc the actual cliché came after. It reminds me of the sisters in Smile or Martha Marcy May Marlene where there's the older sister who suffered more from the family "taint" and dysfunction (Peyker witnesses her dad's collapse, she thinks about being exposed to flirtations/harassment? On the promenades since she was a child etc) but who was also more easily able to leave it behind and now has a "perfect" life and didn't take the little sister with her, and now the little sister is more mired into the dysfunction and damaged and resents that. It kind of moved me to tears when she's like "of course Peyker loves her husband and there's an itty bitty Feridun between them" :( the psychological element of this book is just groundbreaking, obviously Nihal too was exactly as deliciously fucked up as you sold her!

Ah, this makes me so happy!

While my main Aşk-ı Memnu interest is (and probably will always be) Nihal, I am much more interested in and appreciative of Bihter nowadays than I used to be. Bihter is the emotional heart of this book, she is what gives it its pathos. And yes, the author really managed to flesh out a very dysfunctional dynamic between a family of women without spending too many words on it. I will look up the works you mentioned.

Peyker as a character intrigues me. I am glad that you noticed that she was the one who found her collapsing father! A critic pointed that out as the possible reason why Peyker is so adamant on not being like a typical woman of her family, but unfortunately that critic’s name escapes me now.

Little Feridun is also more relevant to me than he perhaps is in the book. He also is the element of the book that comes closest to making me cry in the last chapter, not through anything too significant, but just through calling Bihter “aunt” in a critical moment. I also find it significant that Peyker gives birth to a son (for he is a boy, though the Eva Deverell translation sometimes mixes up his pronouns) when we were informed in the first chapter that Melih Bey Set usually had daughters - it points to Peyker’s complete break from the family traditions. But also I think we are invited to question how much of Peyker’s “happy homemaker” persona is an act. Fascinating stuff.

Yes, the psychological aspect is curiously modern for an 1899-1900 work I think. The secularism of it all, almost everything about the characters’ personalities being tied to their relationships to their parents etc. It doesn’t feel like a 19th century novel sometimes. It feels post-Freud. Also more rudimentary things like the smallness of the families also feel curiously modern to me - in Halit Ziya’s novels no one has more than two children.

Yes, Nihal is deliciously fucked up! I sometimes doubt myself and ask whether I read too much into the actions of a fairly normal tween/teen girl but then I reread it and, no, she is pretty messed up. And increasingly I find the book’s main strength in the contrast between Nihal’s Gothic psychology and Bihter’s more grounded and normal loneliness.

[bellarkeselection]

Hi!! Could it possible if you did something for how Jace and Luke would react with a female!reader on her period? Maybe she has bad cramps, and she gets bloated and insecure? Maybe how they deal with her mood swings and if she leaks? It's completely fine it not <3

My Beautiful Dragon Queen

When Jace entered his chambers he was caught off guard to see his wife laying in bed. She was gripping her stomach moaning in pain causing him to rush to her bedside immediately concerned. “My lady wife, what is hurting you so much?” He asked when I threw my head back against the pillow bearing my teeth down against each other. This morning I had started my monthly bleed and the cramps were a lot worse than I remembered from the last time. I couldn’t really get up from the bed without being completely exhausted when I returned. "Jace it's nothing - urgh just my monthly bleed is all..." I attempted to lie to the future Lord and heir to the Iron Throne hoping that he wouldn't be able to see my nerves.

"Is there anything I can do, Y/n. Like get you some milk of the popy or send for a Maester?" He questioned me watching me grumble tossing the covers aside. Pushing myself up from the bed as best as I could trying to walk over to the mirror that was beside the window in our chambers. Eyeing myself in front of the glass mirror I moved my hands over my stomach feeling like it was bloaded like I was pregnant but that wasn't the case. Looking around at the other women at court they didn't look like this when they were bleeding, they looked almost like they were glowing and some were always happy thinking that they were pregnant with babies. "I can't deal with that old woman nagging me anymore today. She keeps telling me I should just lay in the bed and rest. But - oh my mother told me that if you were in pain it was best to be moving around. Plus I can't be viewed as the weak and fat girl I am...there are already enough whispers here that you don't want to sleep with me because I am not pretty enough!" I grunted bending over the bed a little releasing some tears.

Jacaerys rose from the bed coming to stand behind me gently wrapping his arms around my waist from behind looking down at me since he was slightly taller than me. "Y/n, please tell me you aren't insecure about this. Because you are beautiful in ever way and will always be the woman that I deeply care for...do you need me to show you?" He asked when I turned in his arms where he tilted my chin up so I was looking up into his soft eyes. Sniffing through tears he wiped them away where I clutched the fabric of his tunics before he lifted me up in his arms. "I'm sorry I just am insecure that I am not good enough to be Queen when I get beaten by some pain...I just want to please you Jace." He lays me back down underneath the blankets crawling in beside me knowing that I enjoyed the heat his body provided when he wrapped his arms around my waist kissing the crown of my head. "You do please me, love. We don’t have to sleep with enough just because everyone at court makes whispers. I choose not to listen to them." Snuggled into his embrace I smiled knowing that he was always good about taking away my insecurities.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[applejuicefruit]

can i request a dusan fic where he got so much attention from other women at a party, and the reader being insecuree, maybe a smut pleasee

tw : reader is self conscious and insecure, mention of smut

dusan vlahovic x reader

Am I enough?

You were currently sitting on a black leather couch, in a little corner of the huge ballroom you found yourself in, completely forgotten by your boyfriend and your friends. You never really liked parties but your boyfriend Dusan begged you to come with him to celebrate his team latest win and, of course, when you saw him so happy you couldn’t say no. What you didn’t expect was to see him talking with different women instead of spending time with you. He had models and influencers all over him and you couldn’t help just start feeling insecure. Not only you were mad at him for completely ignoring you the whole night but you started feeling jealous of those girls, who clearly caught his attention and you started to wonder how or why he was dating you when he could have had millions of models all over his feet.

You got tired to see him with those girls that you left the room and went straight into the bathroom. You didn’t want to cry in a room full of strangers so what better place than a dirty bathroom in some club?

You didn’t know what time it was but you heard Dusan calling your name in a distance.

“Y/n? Babe? You’re in there?” he asked, knocking on the wooden door.

“Yes, uh, one second” you said, your voice shaking a bit. You wiped your tears away and fixed your make up before meeting Dusan outside of the bathroom.

“Hey…I was looking for you, is everything okay?” he asked, his face full of concern when he saw your make up half smudged under your eyes.

“Yes…I just needed some time alone” you said, ignoring his look.

“You sure?” he asked again.

“Yes, I told you I’m fine” you lied “I’m just tired…” you lied again.

“Okay…then let’s go home” he smiled.

“You can stay and have fun…I saw how you were having fun…I can call a taxi, I don’t mind” you scoffed. You were sad. You were hurt. You were mad.

“Babe…can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked again.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t say nothing. Something is bothering you and I want to help you…” he said truthfully.

“Why me?” you asked him and he looked confused “why me? Why did you chose me? You can have all the prettiest girls in the world and you chose me? I saw how they were all on you Dusan…I saw how they wanted you…and I also saw how you didn’t do nothing to excuse yourself from that situation…almost like you loved receiving all of the attention and I can’t help but wonder why did you chose me?” you asked, completely breaking down.

“What…what are you talking about?” he asked, a little confused “you know why I chose you, you know how much I love you…” he said, his hands lifting your chin up and his fingers wiping your tears away.

“Then why did you let them? They were all over you…I know I look nothing like them…” you said.

“You’re more than perfect baby…I just didn’t want to be rude…you’re perfect baby, I love you so much you have no idea” he said, kissing your wet cheeks “I’m so sorry If I made you doubt yourself…I never meant to hurt you baby” he said.

“It’s just…all of my negative thoughts…”you tried to explain but he stopped you.

“Let me wash away all of those those you have in your mind okay baby?” he said, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you close to him.

“Dusan…” you called his name.

“Let me take you home okay? Let me take care of you” he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your skin.

“Okay…” you whispered and he smiled.

Once you got home, his kisses turned into a full make out session and before you knew it you were laying completely naked under his muscular body.

You remembered all of those models and you started to feeling insecure about your body, thinking bad things and feeling self conscious once again.

“Hey pretty girl” he called you when he sensed your insecurity “let me make you feel good okay?” he whispered, leaving some kisses on your neck “I want you to know how special you are to me” he said looking straight into your eyes.

“Okay” you nodded.

“I love you” he said and you smiled.

“I love you too” you said back, letting fall yourself into the pleasure he was going to give you, knowing it would have been a very long night.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 24th

And we’re back, thank goodness!!! I’ve been so worried about my good friend Jonathan! I can’t wait to hear how he outsmarted the Count and made it out safely and —

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.

GODDAMMIT

But hey, it’s the girls! I love the girls! Let’s see if they’ve been building any castles in the air recently.

My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had three. Just fancy! THREE proposals in one day! Isn't it awful!

This is my idea of a nightmare actually. But!!! More points for the poly theory!!!

I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows.

Nevermind, they didn’t pass the vibe check. (Or did they?)

You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can despise vanity.

Cottagecore sapphics anyone? 💖

I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the cool unaffected one? Maybe Lucy just has this effect on people.

He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. […] And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.

GOOD!!!!! I LIKE HIM!!!!!

Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas —

[Miraculous flashabacks] DON’T —

I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me.

Normal Things To Tell Your Bestie, 99th edition

Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now.

😏

I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang—that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners—but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. […]

'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'

OK BUT THIS IS LITERALLY SO SWEET he personalised it and even made fun of himself to diffuse the tension 🥺

And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times.

AND THEN MADE HIMSELF VULNERABLE!!!!! What a man!!!

I burst into tears—I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one—

LUCY

Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?

Wait. THE POLYCULE IS CANON??? THE POLYCULE IS CANON?????

'If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow. My dear, I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off the darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that other good fellow—he must be a good fellow, my dear, and a fine fellow, or you could not love him—hasn't spoken yet.' That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival—wasn't it?—and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him.

Honestly? Mood. I am utterly charmed by this cowboy.

Now number 3 has to be something.

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

THAT’S IT????? A POST-SCRIPTUM????? GIRL THIS IS YOUR FIANCÉ

OK OK I am willing to accept that the strength of your feelings can’t be transcribed into words. But still.

In conclusion: these are Lucy’s three boyfriends, and yes, they eat garlic bread. 🧄🥖

(Also the contrast with Dracula’s roommates did not go unnoticed)

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[avocifera]

vlogger!reader on gayotic that’s all

no because that would be such a hilarious episode !! ok so here are my thought on how it would go

- i feel that muna kept it a secret that vlogger!reader would be there until the ep was released just for funsies !

- the episode starts with jo going like “so we have my girlfriend’s girlfriend here huh… i don’t think i should be that happy and comfortable as i am but it is what it is!” and naomi just answers that with “i think everyone in our friend group is a little bit in love with reader we should all just accept our fate you know?” with their biggest smirk

- reader talks about so much stuff on that episode and they’re just so smart and eloquently articulate when talking about stuff as: discovering your sexuality, is it necessary to come out?, the pressure of being excellent, how sometimes weird fans make you feel, how being in love with women feels, just a lot of stuff in general

- but of course there are plenty of chaotic and unpredictable conversations too like the first time they smoked weed, that one time when reader’s parents almost caught them making out with a girl, tumblr 2014, growing up being a fangirlboy, good bad movies (i thought of winnie the pooh horror movie writing this)

- overall the episode would just be super entertaining to watch because reader’s personality matched so well with muna and they have a lot of fun silly conversations but also touch on sensitive topics in a very affectionate way that makes everyone’s heart warm.

- reader is a sunshine and that episode feels like being comforted by a older sibling while also laughing until your belly’s hurting and you have tears running down

[reciprocityfic]

champagne problems, chapter eight

title: champagne problems fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march rating: m summary: amy accepts fred's proposal, and laurie comes home and marries jo. but instead of it being the end of something, it's just the start of something bigger.

(or, how laurie and amy find their way back to each other.)

chapter one: champagne problems   chapter two: right where you left me chapter three: it’s nice to have a friend chapter four: the end is here chapter five: moments that we stole (on begged and borrowed time) chapter six: this godforsaken mess chapter seven: love slipped beyond your reaches

author's note: i so, so apologize for this long break. thank you to everyone still reading after all this time. it means more to me than you will ever know, and inspired me not to give up on this story.

cracks of light

My Dearest Amy,

I’ve been dreaming of you.  In my mind, you are beautiful and joyous.  In my mind, you are eagerly waiting for my return.  And in my mind, you love me still, despite my absence and all my mistakes.

I miss you desperately.  Although my dreams of you are pleasant, they are no substitute for being by your side.  I understand why you haven’t written back, but it still pains me to not hear from you.  I hope you are well.  I hope you are happy, as you are in my dreams.

Know that I am working every day to secure our future together.  I hope to return soon, but there are a few more things that must fall into place before I can come home to you.  Know that I think of you every moment.  And know, above everything, that I love you.

Wait for me, my love, please.

Forever yours, Laurie

She jumps slightly as someone knocks on the door to her room.  Carefully, she folds the letter in her hands and goes over to her desk, opening the top right drawer and placing it on top of all the saved letters that came before it.  She stares at the heap for a moment, runs her hand over the top of it.  She can feel the indent of the pen strokes on the delicate paper.  She imagines him alone in a hotel room, writing by candlelight, pen gripped tightly in his fist as he put words down on the page.

Her heart aches.

I miss you desperately.

She misses him desperately, as well.  And she wants to write to him more than anything.  But she’d solemnly resolved to live with as little of him as possible in his absence; after all, it was something she would have to get used to, almost certainly.  She still can’t see a future for the two of them - not one together, at least.  Although Laurie has been insistent in his letters that he’s working toward a way for them, he hasn’t erased the doubt in her mind or the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She’ll have to live without him, and there was no time like the present to practice.  Which meant no writing back.  No sketching him.  No visits to his home - not even any visits to Mr. Laurence.  She even avoided talking about him as much as she could.

“Amy?  Are you there?”

She jumps again; this time, it’s at the sound of Marmee’s voice.  She walks to the door, opens it to find her mother standing there, a sweet smile on her face that almost distracts from the slight concern in her eyes.

“There you are.  You’ve been up here a while.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says simply.  She’s never told her mother that she comes up and locks herself in her room for sometimes hours reading Laurie’s letters, but she suspects Marmee knows anyway.  Her mother always seemed to know everything about her.  It would be bothersome if her mother was anyone other than Marmee .

“Good,” Marmee says, her gaze relaxing.  “You have a visitor, dear.”

She freezes, and feels all the blood rush from her face.  It can’t be…

Her mother reaches out quickly and takes her hand.

“It’s not him,” she assures her.  “I would tell you if it was.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and looks down at the floor, cursing the disappointment that floods through her.  She even feels tears begin to gather behind her eyes.  She doesn’t know how her dread regarding seeing Laurie again can exist alongside how much she misses him, but the two of them do exist, creating a war inside her and constantly tugging her heart in two different directions.

“Come,” Marmee beckons, turning towards the doorway.  “It’s not good to keep company waiting.”

She follows her mother down the stairs, idly trying to figure out who would be here to visit her specifically.  It’s always a family event when Meg comes, and Marmee has already confirmed it’s not Laurie.

Could it be Fred?  For a moment, her stomach fills with dread.  But then, she remembers that his response to her letter ending their engagement and calling off their wedding had only arrived two days ago, and it had been postmarked from Berlin.  It’s impossible that he could’ve made it here by now.  And she doubts Fred ever wants to see her again; his letter, though polite, was quite curt, to say the least.

Her brow furrows; she doesn’t know that many other people.  Not anymore.  In fact, she’s utterly confused when she walks into the front room with her mother, until she lays eyes on the person in a chair next to her father, chatting pleasantly.

“Mr. Laurence,” she says, and the old man looks up from his conversation.

“Amy, my dear,” he replies, smiling fondly at her.

Her face brightens, despite everything, as Mr. Laurence stands and walks over to her.  In the time during Beth’s illness and after her passing, the man had truly become like a grandfather to her and her sisters.  She’d missed him dearly, she realizes, as a few tears begin to gather in her eyes.

Before Mr. Laurence reaches her, though, his face becomes serious, and he asks Marmee and her father to give the two of them a moment together.  Anxiety creeps up her spine as her parents leave the room.  Surely this has something to do with - 

“I have news from Laurie,” Mr. Laurence tells her, interrupting but confirming her thoughts.  Dread must show on her face, because the man quickly reaches out and takes her hand.

“It’s nothing bad, I assure you,” he says, leading her to the sofa.  As they sit, Mr. Laurence sighs.  “But Laurie said to be careful, because he didn’t know how you would react.”

The old man squeezes her hand as her stomach churns.  She turns her face away and stares at the floor, not wanting him to see her reaction to the news, whatever it may be.

“He’s coming home,” Mr. Laurence murmurs.

Her hand - still grasped in his - tightens reflexively, and she squeezes her eyes shut.  She’s silent for a few moments, waiting to speak until she’s sure her voice won’t tremble.

“When?” she finally breathes.

“His train arrives tomorrow morning.”

She doesn’t cry, surprising herself.  Instead, something quite like shock runs through her veins and stimies her emotions.  The idea that Laurie will be in Concord less than twenty-four hours from now seems almost unfeasible to her.  She’d spent so much time trying to avoid and forget him - even the concept of him.  She’d honestly wondered if she would ever see him again, despite what he wrote in his letters.  And now that he’s coming back, she isn’t sure what to feel.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Mr. Laurence asks, after long moments of quiet.

She feels numb.  Like so many different emotions are pulling on her at the same time that they’ve overloaded her brain and heart and broken her.

“Yes,” she decides, “I’m alright.  Did he - do you know what he’s been up to all this time?”

“I needed him for a week in Boston about a month ago,” he tells her.  “But other than that, I haven’t a clue.”

She nods, and then pulls her hand away from the old man’s, wrapping both of her arms around herself.  She feels strange.  Maybe stranger than she’s ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Laurence,” she says, “but I’m afraid I need to excuse myself.”

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, and stands up as she does.  “It was nice seeing you again, dear.”

She smiles at him politely, and then starts towards the stairs.  Before she exits the room, though, she hears Mr. Laurence’s voice echo from behind her.

“I do sincerely hope everything works out for you, Amy.”

She stops, and looks over her shoulder.  The old man gazes after her, his eyes shining with sincerity.  Before she realizes what she’s doing, she walks quickly towards him and envelopes him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, then squeezes her eyelids shut again.  She can feel inklings of the pressure behind her eyes from tears, but they do not fall.

After a moment, she steps back from him.  She almost feels embarrassed, but when she looks up, Mr. Laurence is smiling down at her.  She nods at him again, and then starts back towards the stairs.

When she’s finally in her room and has closed the door behind her, she exhales loudly.  She still feels muddled and unsteady, and anxious energy starts to bubble up inside her stomach.  She paces back and forth in the small room for about a minute before pulling the chair out and sitting down at the desk.  She sighs, and then reaches into the bottom right drawer and pulls out a sketchpad and pencil.

When she was a child and needed to calm down after a quarrel with one of her sisters, she’d come up to her room to draw.  Art has always soothed her, and she hopes it will soothe her now.

She turns her head to the right to look out the window, but sees nothing that captures her interest.  She sighs in frustration, and then turns back to the blank paper in front of her.  Slowly, she picks up her pencil, tapping it against the edge of the desk twice before putting it to the page.

She writes down his name. Laurie . She drops her pencil, and traces over her small, neat penmanship, lets her fingertip linger over the letters.  Suddenly, she picks her pencil back up, writes his name three times more.

Laurie

Laurie

Laurie

She decides to write him, that it will be easier to slip a letter under the front door of the Laurence mansion this evening instead of facing him in person tomorrow.  But she gives up only a moment later; she’s never been good with words, not like Jo.  And, in any case, she can’t get her thoughts straight.  The only word that comes to mind is his name.

Laurie.

Laurie, who’d written to her unfailingly time and time again even though she hadn’t written him a single thing in response.  Laurie, who'd said goodbye to her all those months ago, promising he’d find a way for them.  Laurie, who’d had the courage to confess for the both of them.  Laurie, who’d kissed her and held her and loved her like she was the most precious thing in the world.  Laurie in the rain.  Laurie in his study that first day, drunk and sorrowful.

Laurie, who’d stayed too long at his own wedding just to dance with her.

Laurie in Europe.  Laurie, who’d proposed marriage to her.  Laurie, who’d had the habit of gazing and smiling at her for moments too long.  Laurie, who’d visited her day after day after day in France during Fred’s long absences, seemingly trying to make up for his bad behavior by spending time with her.  Laurie in her studio at Aunt March’s.  Laurie, who’d unbuttoned her apron and called her beautiful and asked that she make her last portrait one of him.  Laurie, who’d forgotten about her and embarrassed her in front of everyone she thought mattered at the time.

Laurie, who’d been there to catch her when she flung herself into his arms on that street in Paris.

Laurie during her childhood.  Laurie, who’d bitterly left Concord and Jo behind.  Laurie, who’d helped her make flower bouquets the day before Meg’s wedding.  Laurie, who’d written her weekly at Aunt March’s house while Beth was sick, updating her on her sister’s condition and the family as a whole.  Laurie, who’d run alongside her on the beach during her first trip to the ocean.  Laurie, who’d given her a key to their mailbox in the forest that had a green ribbon because he said it matched her eyes.  Laurie, who’d saved her that day at the lake, carrying her home and whispering that she would be alright into the cold air.  Laurie, who’d bandaged her hand with the utmost care.  Laurie, who’d noticed her outside his window.  Laurie, who’d looked at her curiously after she introduced herself to him that first night, her eyes shining, and smiled.

Laurie, who, even though his attention had been absorbed by Jo, had taken the time to whisper to her, “Hello.”

Laurie.

“Laurie,” she whispers into the air, and the corners of her lips turn up.

***

She’s restless the next morning.  She wakes up before the sun rises and can’t fall back to sleep; every time she closes her eyes, Laurie’s face appears behind her lids.  So she lies on her back and stares at the ceiling until she hears the rest of the house stir.

Even Marmee, Father, and Hannah can’t calm her, though.  As they sit at the table, she can’t help but glance at the front door every minute, almost as if she can hear the beginnings of the knock she’s expecting.  She’s barely picking at a piece of bread during breakfast when she registers her mother’s voice.

“Meg should be coming today, with the twins and John.”

“It is Wednesday already?” her father answers.  “The week seems to be flying by.”

“Oh!” Hannah exclaims gently.  “I promised Daisy last week that we’d bake something together the next time she visited.  I’ll have to look at what we have around.”

“I’m going to go for a walk,” she says suddenly, tossing down her piece of bread and standing up abruptly.  “I’m not feeling well, and I think some fresh air might help.”

It’s not far from the truth.  She does feel unwell.  She feels like the walls are closing in on her, and her family’s conventional conversation grates at her brain and patience.

Her family knows better than to protest, and as they say their goodbyes, Marmee gives her a sympathetic, knowing, sad smile that makes her heart clench.  Before she leaves, she runs upstairs and grabs her sketchpad and pencil.

He’s been gone so long that it’s already spring again, and it’s warm enough outside today. The sun is shining, but there's still a certain chill in the air when the wind blows that harkens back to winter.  She’s forgotten her coat, but decides against going back for it.  Instead, she wraps her arms around herself tightly.

She doesn’t know where to go at first, but her feet lead her, and she follows them without question today.  She ends up on that beautiful hill where he’d proposed to Jo.  Where he’d confessed his love for her and kissed her for the first time.

She sits down on the sloping ground, her art supplies still clenched in her fist.  She brings them into her lap, puts graphite to paper.   She intends to draw the landscape in front of her, and she starts without thinking.  She’s a few minutes into her work when she realizes that, instead of trees and earth, she’s drawn the outlines of his face.

She stares down at the paper, pausing for a moment, and then goes back to work, purposefully drawing him this time.  The way he looked that day, right before he pressed his lips to hers.

And if you don’t leave now, I might kiss you .

She hadn’t left.  She’d stayed.  And he’d kissed her.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there drawing him - his windswept curls, red and pouted lips, eyes dark and purposeful - but she drops her pencil into the grass when she’s done, and flexes her cramping hand; she’d never been able to teach herself to be ambidextrous, as Jo had.  

She leans back slightly and examines her work, and can’t help but press her lips together in a sad, incredulous grin.  She’d tried so hard to forget him - she’d spent months trying to forget him - and had failed miserably, it seems.  Although she hasn’t seen him for months, she’s captured his details with near perfect precision.  She lifts her hand and runs her fingers over the pencil markings.

“I thought you’d given up on art, Raphaela.”

The sound of his voice startles her, and she nearly jumps off the ground before she registers that it’s him.  It’s Laurie.

She’d been wondering what she would do when she was in his presence again for his entire absence.  Would she scream, or cry?  Would she push him away?  Would she run to him?  Would she still love him?

As it stands, she picks up her pencil from the ground, and speaks without turning to him.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Only a minute or so,” he tells her.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It wasn’t a question, so I have no obligation to comment on it,” she retorts calmly.

“Alright, Amy,” he relents.

Amy .  She closes her eyes, and lets the sound of him saying her name permeate her eardrums again.  She can hear the smile in his voice, as well.

She hears the rustling of footsteps, and then he’s sitting down next to her.  He’s close, but doesn’t touch her.  Instead, he pulls his knees up to his chest, and drapes his arms across them.

“You didn’t answer my letters, either,” he points out, after a beat of silence.  “I’ve learned to expect silence from you.  Quite a change from how it was when we were growing up.”

She’s about to defend herself, but then she sees the grin on his face, out of the corner of her eye - she still hasn’t looked at him fully, yet - and realizes he’s teasing her.

“Stop it, Theodore,” she huffs.

“Only for you, Amy Curtis March.”

She can feel his gaze on her.  He’s trying to make her smile, and she bites her bottom lip to hold it back.

Silence falls over them, and she’s overcome with subtle amazement - amazement that he’s here again, next to her, but primarily amazement that this is so easy .  There is a future full of questions ahead of her, she’s sure, but this - being with him - is still one of the easiest things she’s ever done.

His voice removes her from her thoughts, though, with an sudden rush.

“I’m no longer married.”

Her mouth falls open, and she finally turns to look at him. (He looks beautiful - tired, but absolutely lovely.  She would focus more on this if she wasn’t so confused at his statement, she’s sure.) He’s staring straight ahead, one of his knees bouncing nervously.  She gapes at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jo and I aren’t married anymore.”

“You’re -”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, because she can’t even imagine it.

“We’re divorced, yes,” he says.

“That’s impossible,” she counters immediately.

“No,” he tells her.  “It’s…difficult, but not impossible.  You have to have a certain amount of money, and know the right set of people, and be willing to give up a few things…”

“Like what?” she asks, and he sighs deeply.

“Your reputation, mostly.  Mine will take a hit, but Jo’s will fall off…quite a bit.  At least around here.  She said she’s staying in New York permanently.  Still, I was afraid she wouldn’t agree.  But then again, Jo March has never been one to care much about what other people think of her, has she?”

She can’t agree or disagree with his statement.  She’s still too busy trying to wrap her mind around what he’s told her.

Divorced.

“It’s impossible,” she murmurs quietly.

“It’s not,” he assures her again.  “Amy…”

He reaches out, puts his hand on her arm.  A warm current that stems from his palm flows through her immediately.  She stares down at his hand for a long moment.

“Divorced,” she whispers.

She covers his hand with hers tentatively.

“I’m…sorry,” she says suddenly.  “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your letters.  I read them, though.  I read them over and over again, and kept each one.  They’re in a drawer in my desk, and I read them and read them and read them -”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until he gathers her into his arms.  She grabs on to the lapels of his jacket and sobs once, nestling his face into his neck.

“I missed you so much,” she tells him.

Because she had missed him, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself.  She’d missed him so terribly that the thought of it almost makes her ill, even though he’s here with her now.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into her hair.  “My God, Amy, how I missed you.”

He hugs her closer to him for a moment more, and then pulls back.  He reaches over to her, takes her face in his hand and tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes.

“I love you,” he tells her.  “I love you, and I don’t deserve you.  Especially not now.  But I want you, and 

I want my future to be with you.  I understand if you don’t - if we’re together, your reputation will suffer as well.  So I understand if you -”

She kisses him quickly - to quiet him and his doubts that seem so silly now, mostly, but also because she’s missed kissing him so much .  When they separate, he’s smiling, and even though a few tears stream down his cheeks, he laughs.

She breaks into laughter as well, and they laugh together until they can’t breathe.  Anyone passing would think they were crazy.

But no one is passing.  No one is here, except her and him.  Amy and Laurie.

This is the way it was meant , he’d said, after he’d kissed her that first time.

Once they’ve calmed down, he reaches for her face again, and rests his forehead against hers.

“Amy. Will you marry me?”

He can barely get the question out before she gives her answer, teary and breathless.

“Yes .”

He smiles, and whispers, “Thank you,” before kissing her again, deep and slow.

She kisses him back, and feels, for the first time since she arrived back from Europe, that she’s finally come home.

[maidenofmice]

The slender acacia would not shake

One long milk-bloom on the tree;

The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,

As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;

But the rose was awake all night for your sake,

Knowing your promise to me;

The lilies and roses were all awake.

They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,

Come hither, the dances are done,

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,

Queen lily and rose in one;

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear;

She is coming, my life, my fate;

The red rose cries, *She is near, she is near;'

And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;'

The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;'

And the lily whispers, 'I wait.'

She is coming, my own, my sweet;

Were it ever so airy a tread.

My heart would hear her and beat,

Were it earth in an earthy bed;

My dust would hear her and beat,

Had I lain for a century dead;

Would start and tremble under her feet,

And blossom in purple and red.

[excerpt from Lord Tennyson‘s Maud I, XXII.]

So i was briefly exposed to this poem in an art history seminar on the Victorian Era a few months ago, and because I am totally normal, all I could think about was how well it fit Aki on at least two layers. One: the entire linking of Maud with flowers, especially the rose, for obvious reasons works so so well. Especially the title „Queen Rose of the Rosebud Garde of Girls“ makes so much sense. And the second layer is a little deeper but also totally supported by my own confirmation bias. Maud is described to be deceptively beautiful but incredibly cold looking, with a stern expression and a complexion that makes her appear almost dead. I haven‘t read the entire poem down to detail but from what I could gather, the lyrical protagonist falls in love with her (and grows increasingly obsessed) after a disagreement between their fathers lead to his father‘s death, so at the beginning he tries to get back at Maud‘s father through her, but ends up being bewitched by her in the process, eventually dueling and killing her brother etc. etc. it‘s all very Victorian. Maud is mostly passive in this, never actively described to do anything and yet she is said to be both the best thing in the lyrical protagonist‘s life while at the same time being his demise.

Retrospectively one could assume that both of these things are not inherent to her character and just qualities assigned to her by the men in her life. In the Victorian era there was almost a popular belief that there were two opposing kinds of women: femmes fragiles and femme fatales, the first kind being dependent and almost sickly but on the other hand sweet and kind and docile, while the femme fatale as in popular media today is independent yet violent and oftentimes promiscuous.

It‘s an interesting duality that I see in Aki in a way (helped by the image of roses, y‘know, they‘re beautiful flowers with delicate blossoms but also piercing thorns which the show uses actively to characterize this duality in Aki) , but in a way where it has always been decided for her instead of by her. She‘s violent at the start because that is the side of hers that is fostered by Divine and towards the end of the show her caring nature shines through instead. Interestingly enough though, she is less independent when in her „femme fatale“ stage, which is really just her anger and pain towards abandonment as a young teen not being dealt with properly. She was never a true femme fatale to begin with and neither has she ever been and will ever be a femme fragile. She‘s just Aki, with both all the hurt she‘s had to experience but just as much all the times she got to experience genuine happiness, a lot of which comes from being taking care of by and caring for her friends.

There are a lot more thoughts in my brain about how women were characterized in literature throughout the decades, using the image of the rose — a sort of de-humanization of the woman and at the same time a personification of nature as woman. We talked about this extensively in another seminar on nature songs but that would exceed ALL limits on this post.

So instead just take this little drawing I made of my Queen Rose. She enables me to do things in my art I never knew I could do.

[pacificovertures]

lines from my current wip i think go hard

chat let me cook!!!

content warning: 50s era prejudice, sex work mention

 “You are rather eloquent for an Oriental, I was under the impression that your people’s language was too far distanced from our own to ever reach a satisfactory fluency." “Perhaps for an individual more ‘fresh off the boat’ as it is said, but I will have you know that my great-grandparents first arrived in this country almost one hundred years ago. It was their hands that bled building the railroads, their children who suffered in the slums of the West Coast so that my parents could come here and provide me with the education denied to them. I am sorry, but I am every bit as American as you.” The young man took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “And I am no ‘Oriental’, I am a Chinese. Surely the recent war has impressed upon you the differences between us Eastern peoples.”

(more beneath the cut)

Though it would cut into their lesson time, the young man said nothing about Heliodora’s reading in a language other than English. He merely sat and watched with a sort of sad expression, listening intently to the words though he did not understand them. It made her happy to know that her son would have some contact with her past, even a single root back to the cold soil from which she sprouted. Once, she caught tears forming in her eyes as she told a fairy tale her mother had read to her over and over as a girl. Though she had read this story hundreds of times and knew every word by heart, she became too choked up to continue speaking. The young man came and sat by her side, putting one thin arm around her shaking shoulders. There he sat, unspeaking until Heliodora had cried herself dry and she continued reading as if nothing had happened.

Christmas passed by, as did the New Year and her birthday. Solus bought her a diamond necklace and a summer trip to Hawaii. It would be her first time on an airplane, he told her excitedly, considering they ended up crossing the Atlantic by boat. The young man instead gifted her a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. It wasn’t new, the pages had been warped by water and the threads on the cover were wearing away, but he presented it to her with great enthusiasm. The inscription on the inside cover read: “To Heliodora, who I find curiouser and curiouser each time we meet. Good luck on all your future adventures.”

He wanted to believe he wasn’t someone who dwelled on unpleasant things, it was the other way around, unpleasant things tended to dwell on him. A side effect of spending so much time on his own. This town was far from welcoming to anyone not white enough to pass, which made it a bit hard to find places to go. At school, most people avoided him. If he performed well, they would nod their heads and say “as expected”. If he performed poorly, they would say “there really is no saving those people, is there?” At some point he had ceased caring.

To dream was a privilege reserved for those with a future. For those without, daring to dream had consequences.

They were both still young and full of passion and for a moment Heliodora’s fears dissipated. To feel she was wanted, to feel she was wanted. The sacrifices she had made to come here would have all been worth it for that. She could lose herself in that want. But it was not to be. Yes, they fell laughing onto the sheets. Yes, Solus’s face lit up with joy as he admired how beautiful his wife was, how dedicated she was to his satisfaction. Yet when the time came to join in making love, that faraway look reemerged and Heliodora understood that she had lost.

“This wasn’t your first time?” That’s all he could think to say. “Attacked? Never. Selling my company? Hardly.” “Who’s buying?” “Anyone who can pay. You’d be surprised at the variety. Women, men, anyone bored enough and rich enough to throw their money away.” “Why?” “Who knows. Guess a lot more people are a lot more lonely than they’d like to admit.” The young man paused and flicked his gaze over to where Solus was standing. “Oh. You mean why do I do it? Well, not everyone’s so safe and secure as you Mister War Hero and Factory Owner. I’ve got to eat, don’t I? Have to pay my damn tuition. You couldn’t possibly believe that I could survive solely on what you pay me to teach your wife.” Solus was left aghast. Instead of making any kind of admission of fault in himself he said, “You should go to the hospital.” The young man laughed. It was just about all he knew how to do. Just about all he could do at this moment. “I’ll see you and Heliodora on Tuesday.” Solus retrieved his hat from the counter where he had left it and made his way toward the exit. Halfway there, he stopped. “How much?” he asked. The young man smiled sadly. “What are you offering?” 

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I feel so lonely. I know that I'm only 25 (and soon I'll be 26, and that doesn't feel right), but I also feel like I'm running out of time. More and more of the people my age that I know have gotten married or will be married later this year. And I've been invited to the wedding of a friend that I am honestly happy for and looking forward to seeing, but I noticed that my mood was brought down on the day that I got the invitation. And I didn't think it was related until I was watching a romantic show later in the evening and was brought to tears.

And, to be honest, watching or reading romance stories have always been something I've enjoyed but over the years I've been getting more and more jealous of these fictional characters. And I'm starting to think that maybe I don't enjoy romance stories anymore.

The way that the protagonists pine, and how they are being pined after. The way they see each other's flaws and have the desire to cherish them. The way they want to take care of each other, how they want to see the other happy, how they want so desperately their feelings to be reciprocated all the while they already are... I think these things haven't been making me swoon or feel giddy for the past couple years. They just make me sad. Because I lack them.

I've never even had a partner. I think the only time I had feelings reciprocated was in the 1st grade, and I didn't even know it. We were six, and we called each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend," but insisted it was because "he's my friend that is a boy!" and vice versa. We were only six, but he got me a bouquet of flowers on Valentine's Day. And our mothers took us to Chuck E. Cheese and he gave me all the tickets he won. And it makes me happy that I had someone that liked me that much. But it makes me sad that that's the last romantic gesture I've had. 

And for a very long time, I hadn't even had my first kiss. And I was getting impatient. I always dreamed about what my first kiss would be like. How it would feel like a crescendo. How delicate or rough it would be. Would it be behind the school? Would it be at my doorstep after a date? Would it be at the top of a ferris wheel? Would it be in the rain? But my first kiss was also during my first sexual encounter at 23. And we had only gone on a couple of dates. And afterwards, he ghosted me. I tried to convince myself it was fine; I don't think losing my virginity was this life-changing event (in many ways, I still feel like a virgin), and it wasn't like I was in love with the guy. But I felt played. 

And every single time after the first grade, every single person I've liked has rejected me. And almost all the guys that have shown interest in me have turned around and been cruel once it was clear I didn't reciprocate. Without exaggeration, most of them became red-pilled incels. And it seems that's the main brand of dude that I still attract.

As for women, I haven't been pursued, and I attempted to pursue two. Both were unsuccessful. One even snapped at me. Both were bi, like me, so it wasn't like I was barking up the wrong tree. Both have even been flirty with me. It really seemed like I was getting moves put on me. But both were way more conventionally attractive than me. 

And maybe that's the crux of it. Maybe I'm not pretty enough, thin enough, to be cared for. Maybe I'm only pretty enough to fuck for one night, to be someone's friend, to harass on the street, to be thought as obtainable by the detestable, to get a swipe to the right on a dating app but no messages.

I just want someone to think I'm worthwhile enough to give all their Chuck E. Cheese tickets to again.

Love,

Maria

[wack-ashimself]

Liking the first season of 'Torchwood' BUT...

See, I knew of the show 10 years ago. Watched some of it. Hated it. Forgot about it. But was watching like top 10 most shocking tv deaths (or something like that) and they had season 4 (did NOT know they had that many) of 'Torchwood' on there, saying how the latter two seasons were SOLID AF compared to the first 2 seasons.

And I am getting into it. On the 1st season finale. But I gotta say this show has so many plot holes (record setting for just 1 fucking season), and characters who make the wrong call EVERY TIME, you wonder...who am I supposed to cheer for? Cuz, by the numbers, Torchwood has hurt far more than it helped so far.

The lead-she cheated on her boyfriend (with EASE. It felt weird how easy it was for her being in a committed relationship), drugged him, erased his memory, lied to him, and then (Spoilers) got him killed. Also thru negligence, released an alien that killed a BUNCH of dudes.

The butler-he literally chanced cyber men taking over the world, and got an innocent genius doctor killed, cuz he was too much of a COWARD to let his clearly dying gf go.

Tech lady-She reads everyone's deepest darkest thoughts, then got mad when Jack sent an alien who had been murdering for centuries into the sun. She's not bad, per say, more...neutral. She's harmed the least, for sure. That's such a low bar, tho...

Captain Jack-The original reason I watched the show. I LOVED his character on Dr Who. But...this is not him. Not the same guy. Not the free spirited, happy, goofy, witty, always ready, near-god. No. This is an immortal having a mid mid mid life crisis cuz he's lived so long and WANTS to die. Seriously, cuz of his shit, and the lead's, this is like a partial drama. I will say, tho, he has had to make some TOUGH calls which did not make him well liked, but I respected him cuz you knew, deep down, it had to be done, and no one else was gonna do it*.

The doctor-In the finale I am on, he was fired. And I hope his character dies. I fucking hate him. I hate his face, his voice, his actions, his brain; everything. He convinces the noobie to cheat with him, after he basically mouth rapes her. He's angry ALL the time, yells at people thinking he's a genius when he's like the 3rd smartest. He 'falls in love' with a women, tries to demand her to stay, and gets all pity party after ONE WEEK WITH HER. Can you fall madly in love in a week? Sure. But suicidal and a threat to others cuz 'you're sad'? Go fuck yourself, you bitch. Oh, and he basically openly chooses to chance ending the world NOT because he wants to save his team mates (tho he claims that) but because he's tired of being a bitch to the time tear (or whatever the fuck they call it).

So...WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CHEERING FOR? Jack is the only semi cool character, and he's still kinda an ass. They're ALL kinda...selfish, short sighted, fuckers.

But I will finish this series. Because, storywise, the themes and plots they got going, are HIGHLY original and almost always have 1-3 good twists I don't see coming. You don't understand: I have been exposed to so much media, I can predict most things I see within a short period of time (even whole movies from trailers). I'm SO good (or writing is THAT predictable) I actually can, based on context, guess, WORD FOR WORD some lines. Sometimes in real time. Not usually. But not too far off, either.

*I will say, the call the writers/show/characters are supposed to hate was Jack giving the child to the faeries. NO. GREAT call. Best call you could make. Every other call would have sucked. See-the girl was fucking evil. Sociopath. Straight up. Like the faeries. She hated everyone. Talked to no one, but the faeries. She was borderline evil. And the faeries straight up said if you don't give us the kid, we will kill en mass, starting with HER ENTIRE SCHOOL. And the girl WANTED to go. So...where's the problem giving up the kid? Her mom's sad? Who gives a shit. You just saved TONS of lives, an evil fucking kid is gone, and the fairies disappeared. Only one who really lose was the mom. Her long time boyfriend (he was an ass) and her kid: BOTH GONE, SAME DAY. That is cruel, but long run, genuinely, it's even best for her. Her boyfriend was abusing her kid behind her back, and her kid was cheering on the torture of kids. It's a win-win-win. Fuck you for trying to make me feel bad for him giving up the kid. She wanted to go, and I wanted her to go. Fuck her.