#i will burn the letters youve wrote me.

[carduus-divinus]

[rowarn]

You had me sobbing in the shower over PLM au where reader actually tried to attempt😭😭

Now to project and fix everything because I don't like my feelings being hurt and I'm going to pretend the problems away😍

Maybe as reader recovers in the hospital they try so many times to reach out to Simon. Calling and texting him but to no avail until finally they leave the hospital and tries one last time to call only to realize he blocked their number.

Reader, obviously devastated, tries to find him. Maybe goes to areas they used to go with him (grocery stores, parks, anything to try and find him.)

Maybe as reader starts picking up themselves up and trying to get better, they decide to start writing letters. Writing all of their thoughts to Simon. Telling him they miss him. That they need him. Promising that they're better because they convinced themselves being unstable is what drove him away.

Reader, keeps the first letter they wrote unable to send it. They write a new one, and finally has the guts to mail it to the base where it will hopefully reach him.

Simon, who miraculously somehow receives the letter. He stared at the handwriting for so long, trembling as he flipped the envelope between his fingers but can't open it. Tries everything to get rid of it, throwing it out, burning it, but he can't do it. So he shoves it in the back of one of his drawers.

Reader keeps sending letters, this time more tame. Talking about their life, updates, new jobs, friends. They sometimes write that they miss him. That they hope he's reading these. But even if he isn't it's okay, because they still somehow feel connected to him in a way.

Simon who starts denying mail. Maybe tells someone on base not to give him the letters anymore (idk how this works I'm not a military expert hafsgsf). Now all of the letters reader writes are tossed into a pile in a mail room, collecting dust, but still there.

But that first letter. Simon holds onto it. Sometimes he holds it up to the light, barely able to make out letters from the light passing through the paper. Traces his fingers over the opening.

Reader who does the same with the first letter she wrote for Simon.

SORRY IF THIS IS LONG AND ANNOYING, I WAS SAD AND HAD A VISION AND WANTED TO FIX THE SAD😭😭

I JUST GNAWED MY HANDS OFF OVER THIS!!!!!!! U DIDNT EVEN FIX IT ITS JUST MORE SAD NOW!!!!!!!' WHAT HAVE U DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IS HE EVER GONNA OPEN THE LETTER NOW YOUVE GOT ME INVESTED!!!!!!

[fotibrit]

"EDITH (Even Death Isn't Too Heavy)"

In a fit of boredom, I wrote the first chapter of this prompt. Please let me know if its worth continuing writing this one :)) (1700 words below the "continue reading" , youve been warned !!)

When Tony died, everything was supposed to stand still. The grass, somehow, would sense the shift and would freeze over to pay respect. The clouds shouldn’t show their face at all, unless to rain on the horrible, horrible world that now stopped turning in the wake of such a tragedy. 

Everything was supposed to stand still. The world should stop. 

But it doesn't. It seemed everything moved at double-speed, with Mister Stark gone. Of course, there was a world to clean up. Half the people on Earth had appeared in thin air, and entire cities needed to be turned into hospitals. Mass confusion reigned. Everyone turned to the avengers for answers, and nobody noticed the body of the man who had saved the world, whisked away in a black bag. 

That's all he was. A body in a bag. Everything, everything that Tony Stark ever was and ever would be, was within that bag. The bag that Peter would never see again. 

There were parties. Spider-Man was asked to a dinner at city hall, a “Celebration of Life Revived”. They asked, should he accept, that he give a speech. The city missed the vigilante, he was told. People were concerned, not having seen the web-slinger soaring through the skies after the battle. They wanted to see him, admire him, thank him for everyone he had saved. 

They even offered transportation.

There was no need. He couldn’t attend. He would be at a lake house, on the outskirts of New York. He had a funeral to attend. The “Life Revived” would have to make do without him. 

Peter tried to avoid anything to do with Tony Stark for the months after his death. He was tired, far too tired to deal with the fallout of his mentor's death. There was paperwork to be sorted, meetings with SHIELD, interviews requested, and there was the small issue of Tony’s workshops. Nobody wanted to step foot in any of them, let alone clean them up. This wouldn’t be an issue. They could stay, collect dust, become an ancient artefact. Peter was willing to turn a blind eye, forget that the rooms ever existed, distract his mind as every crumbled up bag of chips on the lab floor became a relic of a better world in which Tony Stark lived.

It doesn't matter. See if Peter cares. It's not like anyone would use Tony’s lab again. Tony’s dead. 

Dead, and never coming back. His voice fades from Peter’s memory as Peter stands, frozen, in front of the lab door. 

Unfortunately, Peter may not care if Tony’s workshop turns to dust, but SHIELD certainly does, and nobody has the energy to fight that battle with them at the moment. Valuable work needed to be preserved, some things needed to be guarded under lock and key, a few things would go to a museum, per Tony’s will.

So, Pepper asked Peter to clean it out. “Just glance over everything. See if anything stands out. God knows I don’t understand his little language, but if he wrote ‘weapon’ in big red letters on anything, burn it before SHIELD sees it, yeah? Or translate it to ‘high tech prosthesis’. He would have loved that.” 

Peter was the only one for the job. There had been a few days in which everyone panicked, thinking nobody would be able to preserve Tony’s work. He had insisted on using his personal language in his notes, a language Peter privately dubbed “Teaspool” after failing to find a way to pronounce “TSPL” (or, Tony Stark’s Private Language”). Even some of Tony’s codes used symbols known only to Tony’s brain and computer. 

And Peters. Tony had taught Peter Teaspool. This fact had been private for years, with Tony preferring to keep the depths to which he trusted the boy private, and the boy following his mentor’s lead and keeping quiet. When it was first discovered that much of Tony’s work was unreadable to an English speaker, Peter had debated revealing his ability to understand the language. He ultimately decided that he wouldn’t reveal himself, he would maintain his last secret with his late mentor, but Morgan had other ideas. 

She showed up at his bedside one day. He was always in bed. Peter Parker, drowning in grief and blankets, was very easy to find. 

“Mommy is crying because she can’t read Daddy’s books. Can you read them to her?”

Peter agreed to step foot in the lab, but not much else. It’s true that he learned to read Teaspool over the years, but that doesn't mean he’s willing to spend months translating everything for SHIELD. 

He’s not sure he’s even willing to spend minutes. 

The door handle is cold, far colder than it ever was when Stark was alive, or at least it seemed as much to Peter. That might, in retrospect, have something to do with the fact that Peter had laid in bed, warm and comfortable and utterly numb to the world, for the last few weeks. Everything felt colder. 

He wouldn’t wait to go back to bed. 

The room was cold too, and creepily silent. Completely devoid of the whirring, the music, the laughter and called out nicknames that typically greeted Peter when he walked through this door. 

That nickname would never come again. He had already had his last. It wasn’t enough. 

“FRIDAY?” Peter spoke into the silence, more for his own comfort than a pressing need for the AI. He needed to know someone else, even a robot, was somewhere closeby. His voice cracked from misuse. It wasn’t that Mister Stark’s death had caused him to go mute. It was more like that very things were worth speaking for, in a world devoid of his father figure. 

Speaking only made his life better. Peter didn’t need his life to be better. He needed his life to not be his own. 

“Hello, Peter.” The AI responded. Even she sounded cold. Everything was cold, now. 

“Can you… play music? Anything? Please?” The room was haunted. Peter was sure of it. He had known it back when he frequented this lab for the express purpose of bothering Mister Stark while he worked. The lab was haunted by the spirits of projects that Mister Stark forgot about, Peter used to say. The half-built gadgets lined the walls, staring at the pair of humans working on another gadget, which would (in turn) be dejected as well. “This lab is a haunted graveyard. I’m surprised the electricity hasn’t revolted against you!”

Mister Stark had laughed, back then. If only Peter had known how right he would be. It wasn’t electricity, per se, that killed Stark, but Doctor Strange said it was the magical equivalent. It looked like sparks had coursed through the mechanics veins as he lied, waiting for death. 

The machines won in the end. 

Music started playing. Classical. Something happy. Far too happy, for this room. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Peter’s bare feet wandered over to the main table of the lab. He typically wore lab-appropriate footwear in this room, but then again, it’s not a lab anymore. It's a graveyard. 

The table was piled with papers, no clear signs of an organisational system presenting themselves. Blueprints for designs that could change the world were filed with Peter’s own chemistry homework, all filed right on top of the desk in a haphazard pile. 

This should be fun. 

It felt wrong, somehow, to sit in the chair that was right next to the desk. Mister Stark was probably the last one to sit on it. Who was Peter to take that away from the universe? He dragged over another chair and began rooting through the pages. 

—--------

Peter almost didn’t check the desk drawers. Tony never used them for anything more than snacks, and he didn’t know if he could bear finding a half- finished snack in there, knowing the inventor had opened it and would never finish the bag. Such a small thing, but the pressure in Peter’s chest had been building ever since he first started translating Tony’s handwriting, and he couldn’t take anything more. 

But he checked anyway. Maybe part of him wanted to break. And break he certainly did. 

A notebook. Bound in leather, stamped in the bottom left corner with Tony’s initials, a well used notebook had been pushed all the way to the back of the otherwise empty drawer. It was filled with a mix of english and symbols, and before Peter could start to translate, the english section caught his eye. 

It was a diary. Or at least, a personal journal. The small english section described Tony’s difficulty with keeping “Mark Two” a secret from “Obie”, and was dated 2009. 

As Peter flipped through the almost-full journal, the handwriting became more and more illegible, and more of the man's personal language took over the pages, until Peter hit the back cover. 

So it started in 2009. Peter flipped to the last page, intending to find out exactly when Tony had given up on the journal, only to see his own name staring back at him from the last entry. 

Or at least, it might as well be his name at this point. 

“TO ROO” it said, in big bold english letters on the top of the page. 

The following paragraph was written in the messiest handwriting yet, and in Teaspool. As such, it took over twenty minutes to decipher, and another twenty for Peter to read through the tears and disbelief.

Because what it was saying…

It couldn’t be.

“TO ROO

The wizard says there's only one option, so I’m in a corner here. I’m working on it, kid, but it’s looking like you will have to wait a while to see me after we get you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Just stay strong. I’ll be back soon. I can’t wait to see you again, kiddo. Trust me. I'll have to push through worlds to see you again, but even death isn’t too heavy. 

P.S. Don't show the others. If they knew, I would be stuck. Keep it quiet. Wait for me.”

Three hours after Peter entered the lab, Morgan came looking for her brother at the request of her mom. Peter, notebook clutched in hand, murmured the phrase “even death isn’t too heavy” as he was led back to his bed.

[new-hyperfixation-every-month]

13, 18

13) what can make you excessively angry?

hmm im not sure how to answer, i get angry abt a lot of things lmao i just hate conflict

basically anything that interrupts my schedule/rhythm? i dont like events getting sprung on me out of nowhere, i dont like ppl trying to talk to me while im clearly busy and/or have headphones on.

bad takes abt my favs make me irrationally angry. i will never act on it bc ppl are entitled to their own opinions but i hope they somehow comically feel my glare burning the back of their heads.

this is like amongst many other things obv

18) what is something you cant bring yourself to get rid of?

i am SUCH a hoarder when it comes to trinkets associated with ppl; if youve ever sent me a letter, wrote me a note, given me anything i can physically store somewhere, trust it is being STORED. before i moved to my apt i had an entire wall in my room just COVERED in letters and notes and drawings from others, i displayed my entire collection all the time (and yes i took that all with me to college lmao)

idk if that counts as smth i cant bring myself to get rid of? the way the question is phrased implies it should be smth i SHOULD get rid of but dont want to?? i dont rlly have anything like that i think

[raveninnight]

Making Sigils

So as y’all know, the place I live is pretty fucked. Ive been researching protective magic for awhile and ive connected most with sigils. I thought you guys might want to try them out too, especially if your luck is as shitty as mine (its literally not).

Sigils are symbols charged with magikal power- basically a spell in a symbol. I like them because they dont take expensive materials (im a poor bitch), are pretty easy to make, and are mega aesthetic. Most importantly tho, they’re effective. While tons of premade sigils are available online, work that you create is always going to be more powerful in anything youre trying to do. Heres a guide to making your own, original sigil.

Start by writing your intention. This needs to be written positively, without using words like “not” or “won’t”. For example, i want to be protected from the thing in the woods. Instead of writing “I will not be hurt by the great evil”, i wrote “I will be protected from the great evil”.

(srry my hand writing is absolute garbage)

Once youve written your intention, cross out all vowels. This will help us simplify our intention to its simplest form.

Next, cross out all duplicate letters, leaving only one of each.

Now, write down the letters you have left.

We will now break these letters down even further until we are left with only their base symbols. Separate all complex shapes down to lines, curves, and circles.

This looks pretty complicated, but organizing the symbols makes it a lot easier to keep track of all of them.

Now we can begin forming the sigil. Start arranging the symbols in whatever way your mind is calling you. If i stay focused on my intention, my hands just work and seem to know where the shapes fit. If youre having trouble just take a breath. Dont stress. It will work because YOURE making it. The power doesn’t come form the symbol- it comes from YOU. Thats another reason why this is only a baseline. You may feel called to add extra symbols- do it. Trust yourself, the goal is to make something that you feel connected with.

This was my finished sigil. To charge it, it is usually best to make it transform. This symbolizes the transformation between where you are and where you want your intention to lead you. This transformation can be done in a few ways, but is most commonly done by burning or soaking the sigil. Because we’re having a rainstorm tonight, Im leaving mine outside to be soaked. Once it dries in the sunlight I’ll carry what remains of the paper with me. This is just a personal preference because I like having something physical to remind me that the magic is working even if i cant see it. Other options for transformation include:

Burning and scattering the ashes

Writing in soil or sand before a rainstorm and letting it wash the sigil away

Writing it on your hand and letting it naturally fade away

Best of luck ✌️ Stay witchy and hmu if you have questions or have requests for a certain tutorial. Subscribe for more rants, lesbian whining, and occasional helpful tips.

[serialkillerinthemaking]

below the cut is my insanely long analysis of sa and its metaphors its bad but i did in an hour with a headache so it is what it is

analyzing sa even though it's been said so much it's redundant I just need a place to collect it all ya know

note: none of this is chronological to the story and its probably just going to be the song lyrics

there are many run-on sentences and grammar problems sorry. I'm writing this off the idea that everyone has a decent understanding of sa and its plot.

obviously, mama who bore is about Wendla’s mom not telling her about sex. mwbmr is the same thing except it shows none of the girl's mom tells them about sex.

all that's known starts with the boys robotically repeating Virgil's Aeneid before Melchior breaks out and starts singing. He explains that science and facts are pushed aside in favor of religion and his parents wanting him to fall in line and not question what is taught. that's the general theme of the song. he is determined not to become part of the hivemind and question what is taught. he wants to find and see and experience more than what they know of and are teaching in terms of the world and he himself.

He mentions the stars and them being sort of all-knowing. stars are brought up again in those you've known sort of being a metaphor for society and the children of his generation and the ones to come. In those youve known, he vows to read Moritz and Wendla's dreams to the stars because they are dead and can really communicate with him and therefore rely on him to spread the word of their thoughts and ideas and stories. this being a cautionary tale, those stories must be told.

he mentions the repression of free thought. children are naturally curious of the world around them but as they grow up the adults push them not to be and only to accept what we know now. he doesn't want to lose this and stop eternally searching for more. this is sort of put into the term "purple summer". meaning the story, the cause, the prevention, and the tragic beauty of the story. we'll come back to the meaning of purple summer itself.

he says one day all will know generally meaning what is happening beneath the surface and societies refusal to talk about it and explore it. in purple summer this comes back more concrete. instead of one day, more like a distant hope, he says all shall know. they will know now, soon, not one day in the distant future. In the end, his journey is complete and it goes from one day all will know to all shall know. 

tbol and my junk are pretty straight forward you guys don't need me for those.

touch me is basically about the yearning for sex and to know what is. there are some metaphors but they are pretty self-contained within the song itself and don't really have enough grasp on them to go too deep. either that or they're really not actually that deep lol.

woyb is basically about Melchior and Wendla wanting to be with each other and trying to resist the temptation because of oppression

The dark I know well is about the rape and sexual assault of Martha and Ilse at the hands of her father and artist friends, respectively. Again the song uses one central self-contained metaphor that is never brought up again in the context of the show and is pretty easy to understand. 

and then there were none has frau Gabor intermittently reading a letter she wrote in response to Moritz asking for money to escape. Moritz jumps in and sings his thoughts as he reads the letter and basically watches his last hope fall through. he feels she tries to sugarcoat the point of the letter. he is mad for saying things in an attempt to make him feel better and to try her best to help, such as writing a letter to his parents. she tells him she still cares for him but can't help him. he feels he has no other option left after failing his tests. you all know the plot you don't need me to explain it.

mirror blue night Melchior is horny blah blah blah I hate this song moving on

I believe while they disobey the church and its a church song irony yeah

(it's so late I'm sorry)

don't do sadness blue wind ohoho lets goooo

Moritz wishes to be a butterfly, no longer having to deal with life, and happily flying. he says he doesn't do sadness because he just can't handle it anymore. the failing the test hurt him and frau Gabor refusing to help was the straw that broke the camel's back. he can't take it anymore. Ilse comes in and sees he's sad. it's cold and dark outside symbolizing his current mood so she sings about the happiness of spring and summer to cheer him up. fall and winter are analogies for sadness and pessimism, spring and summer are happiness and optimism, hence spring awakening, the happiness coming back after the sad times. purple summer also references that but that's for later. she talks about when they were kids happily playing in the sun. wind, a cold sad month thing always comes back but it always goes away. happiness will always come and sadness will always go just like the seasons. Moritz is only living in fall and autumn, not seeing the spring and summer ahead. Ilse gets through her life through optimism relying on the blue wind never taking when it creeps up and always going away once again. and then it just kinda repeats you get the rest.

left behind. he never got to grow up and be an adult and its his parent's (mostly his dad's) fault. metaphor once again fully in the song not really brought up again.

you guys got the rest (more than sufficient critical conjecture on woybr) until WHISPERING whooo

she hears the ghosts because throughout she alive and dead. sort of. everyone is sad. she describes her family's grief at her funeral. the preacher uses her as a cautionary tale and warns others of her fate. they say she did bad things and this how she ended up. such a shame, such a sin. she feels powerless, like she didn't have a voice and only could do what was told of her. she didn't know any better despite her best efforts. she mentions summer longing in the wind. happiness being swept up by sadness was pretty much her whole "relationship" with Melchior.

👏those👏you've👏known

there is so much I'm just gonna analyze it line by line (i consider this the pinnacle of metaphors in theatre considering the buildup)

MORITZ

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

They linger till they find you

self explanatory pretty much

Without them

The world grows dark around you

And nothing is the same until you know that they have found you

Melchior's world has crumbled, he feels like it never going to be the same without them, but he found them.

WENDLA

Those you’ve pained

May carry that still with them

All the same

They whisper: “All forgiven.”

He hurt her, and she's still hurting but she forgives him because there is love in heaven, all will be forgiven.

Still your heart says

The shadows bring the starlight

And everything you’ve ever been is still there in the dark night

everything she was was left behind, but she still finds it here.

WENDLA

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart holds

There are those who still know –

They’re still home

We’re still home

he's still hurting, they're still there.

MORITZ (Sung In Counterpart)

Though you know

You’ve left them far behind

You walk on by yourself, and not with them –

Still you know

They will fill your heart and mind

When they say there’s a way through this

he's living and must continue without them but they are still there in his heart.

MELCHIOR, MORITZ AND WENDLA

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

Their song still seems to find you

They call you

As if you knew their longing –

They whistle through the lonely wind, the long blue shadows falling

they are still there! 

MELCHIOR

All alone

But still I hear their yearning

Through the dark, the moon, alone there, burning

The stars too

They tell of spring returning –

And summer with another wind that no one yet has known

The stars are back! they are all knowing and tell of the sadness passing, the happiness returning, with something new.

(MORITZ and WENDLA Join with Counterparts)

They call me –

Through all things –

Night’s falling

But somehow I go on

You watch me

Just watch me –

I’m calling

From longing

a call back to all thats known

WENDLA (Sung in Counterpart)

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart’s known –

I believe…

she still believes in forgiveness.

MORITZ (Sung in Counterpart)

Still you known

There’s so much more to find –

Another dream, another love you’ll hold

he doesn't have to be stuck on them and they are giving him permission to move on and find happiness again.

Still you know

To trust your own true mind

On your way – you are not alone

There are those who still know

a call back to all that's known, 

MELCHIOR (Sung Alone)

Now they’ll walk on my arm through the distant night

And I won’t let them stray from my heart

Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light

I will read all their dreams to the stars

i dissected this line back in all thats known but STARS! they back

I'll walk now with them

I’ll call on their names

I’ll see their thoughts are known

they know now! all will know he knows and know they know! their story will be told!

WENDLA

Not gone –

Not gone –

they are still there!

MELCHIOR

They walk with my heart –

And I'll never let them go

they are still there!

I’ll never let them go

I’ll never let them go

You watch me

Just watch me

I’m calling

I’m calling –

And one day all will know

ALL👏WILL👏KNOW👏

P U R P L E  S U M M E R

purple has historically represented freedom, the kids now have freedom and summer here means happiness. so now they have both. purple summer is just yeah knowledge and freedom of oppression and the hivemind because this Germany 1890 bad (its a john Mulaney reference I'm so sorry im losing my mind)

And all shall know the wonder

I will sing the song of purple summer

All thats known, all will know all shall know. They will know because we will tell them.

And still, I wait

The swallow brings

A song of what's to follow -

The glory of the spring

The happiness! The knowledge! The freedom! Its coming! It waking it up! SPRING IS AWAKENING! ahhhhhhhhhh

[golden-van-fleet]

Your Song

Summary: Gwilym has loved you for a long time and will continue to.

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: Hi! I needed to write about Gwilym. I’m not sure about the format? Also on mobile for this one. Enjoy!

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

Despite Gwilym being an actor, his fatal flaw was his inability to hide what was on his mind. The entire world knew how he felt about you, except for, well, you. It made his stomach turn, to see you with a man that wasn’t him, holding his hand, kissing his cheek, calling him “babe”. He hoped, wished, and prayed desperately to be that man.

I don’t have much money, but boy if I did

I’d buy a big house where we both could live

He knew you wanted a big house in the countryside. It’d been your dream for as long as either of you could remember. In fact, it was the first thing he bought with his paycheck from Bohemian Rhapsody. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of the two of you living there like Allie and Noah in The Notebook. He didn’t want to buy your love, per se, but if he could afford what you wanted, he wanted to be able to spoil you. For only being your best friend, he treated you a hell of a lot better than that boyfriend of yours ever could. Any of them, really.

And it wasn’t lost on you. You’d lost a couple boyfriends because they felt they couldn’t compete with Gwilym, and they couldn’t. Gwilym was over the top for you and only for you. When he bought the house, you were stunned. He constantly had you over, one of the guest rooms unofficially becoming your room. You’d been by his side before the fame and the fortune, it was only fair in his eyes that you were still there after it.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one’s for you

Every performance he did as Brian May was with you in mind. Gwilym was willing to go to the ends of the earth to prove that he was worthy of your love, to prove to you that he was the one you needed. He knew, rationally, you never needed a man to be happy or to succeed. He also knew, selfishly, that he was the one for you. This was a man willing to bend over backwards for you at any given moment, knowing you would do the same.

And you can tell everybody that this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it’s done

I hope you don’t mind,

I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world

The day you met was a day he’d never forget. Your eyes piercing back into his own, a stare that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. It wasn’t a malicious stare, it was one of amusement. You were working at a local coffee shop while finishing your bachelor’s degree around the same time Gwilym began filming one of many up and coming projects. He’d come in with an agenda, a man on a mission, but when his eyes met yours, he babbled like an infant. You were so kind, you didn’t make fun of him, you smiled a little and let him compose himself.

Ever since that day, he made a point to visit you at work, seated at one of the tables in the corner as long as he could be without disturbing you, your coworkers, or the other patrons. You found it sweet, and your heart ached to get to know him.

So you did. He’d been to your apartment more times than the members of your family had over the course of the next year. It was around that year mark Gwilym realized he couldn’t live without you. It was also around the time you’d started your string of terrible boyfriends.

Gwilym couldn’t thank you enough for changing his quality of life. You breathed a life into everything that he’d never been able to find. Life by your side was beautiful. You never let him dwell on the bad, and as hard as it could be to find the good sometimes, he always tried. If not for his sake, then for yours.

I sat on the roof, and kicked off the moss

Well, a few of the verses, well they’ve got me quite cross

He had to tell you. He couldn’t say it to your face, but he couldn’t not say it to your face. He wrote letter after letter, page after page, hoping that something, anything would encapsulate his feelings about you. Late night after late night, he failed to document exactly what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to plan out what he wanted to say, but he needed it to be everything he’d had on his mind for years.

When you showed up at his door during one of those late nights, he told himself as soon as he opened the door he’d tell you. What he didn’t expect was to see you sobbing, throwing yourself at him. He caught you before you could hit the floor, catching a glimpse of you before you buried your face into his shoulder. Your eyes were puffy and swollen with tears, your face red and stained with tear tracks. It absolutely broke his heart.

“He broke up with me,” you whimpered. “Almost two years, I thought I was going to marry this man, and then suddenly I’m not good enough?”

But if only you knew how good enough you were. Gwilym saw the sun rise and set within you. You were the very center of his universe. He couldn’t tell you now, you’d just had your heart broken. He could try, in vain, to tell you how wonderful he found you and about the total joy you brought to his life, but his dark secret would have to wait a little longer.

You climbed out onto the roof outside the guest room window, the full moon hanging bright above your head. There was a gentle, almost imperceptible breeze floating through the summer night. This was your favorite part of the house. It was your hideaway, wrapped around the back of the house with a full view of the river in the background. It felt as though time stood still when you were there. You found yourself lost in the peacefulness of it all until Gwilym squeezed himself through the window frame to sit with you.

“He thought you and I had something going on on the side. I told him that you were my best friend, that you always would be, that without you there is no me. And he was jealous.” You sniffled, the tears of sadness now transformed to tears of resentment. “But maybe he had a reason to be jealous. You’re all I need in my life.”

Gwilym was nothing short of stunned. That was the first time in his life that he was utterly lost for words.

“I- I can’t be your rebound, Y/N. I’ve loved you for far too long to let myself be who builds you up for someone else to tear back down. You mean too much to me for that.” He felt a tear slip down his cheek. His heart was on the line. As much as he wanted to be with you immediately, to hold you in his arms and never let go, he couldn’t. Not right now.

“I’m not saying I want to jump from him to you. But I did a lot of thinking on the drive over here. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been this support, this rock, and I can’t help but feel I’ve taken it for granted. And for that, I’m so sorry. I know the way you look at me when I’m not looking because I look at you the same way. I always have. And maybe I was too afraid of ruining what we had built up so beautifully. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour, and that’s what we did. We’re still doing it. So if you’ll let me, I’d like to keep building it, I want to know that it’s not going to go away after tonight.”

He forced himself to look at you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. It would never go away. It couldn’t.

But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song

It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

Over the course of the following months, your relationship bloomed into the blossom it was destined to be. The dark cloud that hung over Gwilym’s head had finally given way to the warm rays of the sun, and he embraced them fully. Loving you was diving head first into a pool that had no bottom. There was always a new depth to be reached, and when he thought he’d reached his capacity, there was always more.

You noticed the change, welcomed it, and encouraged it. Gwilym was finally back to the man he was when you first met. The man that you thought you were going to fall in love with. However, you’d hung that up when he brought over one of his girlfriends, unannounced, to your flat the night you were going to tell him how you felt. It crushed you, but you couldn’t tell him that. To know that now, it wouldn’t happen again, he was yours? It was heaven in and of itself.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

He had to ask you to marry him. He made up his mind before the two of you had even been together six months. It took half a lifetime, or so he thought, to get with you in the first place. Hell, you’d moved in together after two months together, what difference would it make?

He found himself in the same position he was years and years prior, back in that tiny coffee shop. Your eyes were focused intently on his, your smile kind and your hand relaxed in his. Gwilym was in his element, at home, alone, with you. And there, in the comfort of your shared bed, he was going to ask you to be his wife, and he couldn’t choke the words out. All he could do was present you with the ring first.

“Marry me. Please,” he added, softening what sounded like a demand.

“Easily,” you smiled, pulling his face towards yours and locking your lips into a breathless kiss. “I would marry you a million times over.”

He found himself in the same predicament when it came to your vows.

“I’m not usually one to forget what I’m saying before I say it, but you look so beautiful I can’t help myself,” he began, chuckling as he bashfully wiped away a tear. “I had this whole thing planned about how you were the one for me and I knew from the moment I met you, but even to this day you render me speechless. So forgive me if I cut this a bit short, but I’d really love to call you my wife sooner rather than later.”

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

When your daughter was born with your bright, beautiful eyes, Gwilym cried more than he ever thought he would. He was so gentle with her, so gentle with you… You couldn’t love him more if you tried.

Despite having your eyes, your daughter was Gwilym’s clone. She had her father wrapped around her tiny little finger from the first cry she let out the day she was born. Gwilym immediately switched into protective dad mode, refusing to let her go without a fight. Unless she was going to you, of course. But even that took a little convincing.

One night, about three weeks after she was born, Gwilym got up in the middle of the night to tend to her. He took the wailing newborn out of her bassinet in your bedroom to the rocking chair in what would be her nursery.

“Alright, love, it’s okay.” He’d done everything he could think of to soothe her and nothing was working, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you. He unbuttoned the front of her onesie, placing the newborn over his heart. He’d been told to try skin to skin bonding whenever he could, and by some miracle, it calmed her down.

Gwilym didn’t realize he was humming until he started to sing lyrics to a song he didn’t realize he knew.

I hope you don't mind,

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Your song had had its share of wrong notes and tweaked lyrics. It conveyed a full spectrum of emotions, highlighting the ups and the downs that came with life and love. Your song was unique, and Gwilym was blessed to share it with you.

[mshopelesslyhopeful]

Failing at trying to end it all

Trigger Warning: Suicide

Itd been years in the making. Always one hay strand away from breaking the camels back. I was surprised itd taken that long to happen at the time. I wrote my letters, all on one page front and back; My dad, my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews they all got what was a paragraph or so because I honestly didn’t think they would care enough to even read that. I had already tried burning myself a few moments before but after 4 burns and still no feeling you really begin to think “fuck it”. I grabbed my white leather belt with metallic rainbow studs and raised the edge of the studs to act as a stopper, then sat there staring at a wall but in my mind running memory after memory trying to find something again to make me want to stay. With every memory saying to stay theres three saying to go. Somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that you are the villain in everyone’s life and by ridding everyone of the villain in their life maybe somehow youll end up the hero this time, or at the very least youll go out feeling like it. Going through your memories has convinced you that being gone is something youve never wanted more. I grabbed my belt placed it around my neck and found happiness with each pull, as the breath decreased and my vision blurred, I thought of paradise. I tightened the belt until i could hear myself wheeze and I could pull no further then I let go. The belt stayed tight and I slumped over onto the floor beneath me, my last moments in life I had joy in my heart. I didnt have any divine experience, I just remember black; followed by my dad shaking and screaming at me, followed by the feeling of anger. Pure Fucking Anger!

[radiantbeams]

whats your fav fanfic ma 👀

ic ant beliVE ur making mE CHOOSE

also whoa this list got away from me

here are my top 10 ~personal~ favorites with a description why they’re so amazing (mostly just me yelling) 

bc im horrible person i ordered them by how much i love them plus the last three that aren’t larry

through struggles, to the stars by thedeathchamber - 80K

Star Trek AU okay need I say more?? (im gonna) I LOVE the character development in this fic okay it’s already pretty long but please I need at least 100K more in this universe, star trek was my first love and like wow my two favorite things combined? brilliant! excellent writing and i especially loved how Louis was portrayed

above your head by deadspy - 57K

so I think now we’ve established I fucking love space, I’m also a HUGE fan of NASA (I lowkey am looking at buying a house there in Cape Canaveral) some of the science is off but lol i understand why they wrote it like that and you’d never even know unless you spend most of your free time researching space travel (like I do) the slow burn hurts my heart but in like the best of ways

Cutie and the Boxer by anomalation - 37K trigger warnings for past child abuse, past sexual abuse, ptsd, anxiety attacks

wow okay SO I have a lot a lot to say about this one, there are 2 parts but it’ll never be enough ! amazing asexual representation, beautifully written characters, Louis in this fic is everything I hope to have in a partner one day tbh, I’m always looking for more asexual characters in fics (also everywhere) but I really don’t think I’ll ever top this one I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve probably re-read it at least 5 times since I found it 

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness - 103K

I dont know ??? how to explain ??? how much i love this fic !!! after reading this I became a fake art historian also I think I’ve seen a john singer sargent in person but I’ve gone to so many stupid art exhibits with my parents it all kind of blends together rich people probs ANYWAY this fic is as beautiful as the painting it’s named after, excellent characterization, limited angst (enough to make it interesting but not too much that my heart hurts), and lots of hoity-toity art references 

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups - 31K

petition for part 2 !!!! it’s A/B/O which I know some people don’t read but TRUST me you have /got/ to read this one, the alpha/omega thing isn’t even that big of a deal? maybe kind of, but it’s written in such a wonderful way that it doesn’t feel forced like it sometimes can, also: power bottom louis what more do you want? (also, anon, this is the fic i was talking about reading when you asked me for this rec)

Haven by xxPayne - 35K

so I talk about this fic a lot bc it’s actually relatively accurate as far as BDSM relationships/clubs go (yes, I’ve been to some, and yes, I’ve been trained by a Dom, so i know what I’m talking about lol) the sex is kinky but (obviously bc it’s 35K) it’s like porn ~~with feelings~~ i love it and tbh after this I’m probably going to re-read it again (and again)

The King of Spades by hazmesentir - 109K

this fic had ALL of my favorite things okay, rugged Manly Man™ louis, misguided oc kid that louis identifies with and mentors, damsel in distress harry, guns, violence, tattoos. i mean it’s Gay Mafia?? does it get any better than that?? no. no it does not.

the next three aren’t larry so like FYI

The Stars Above Us by 606, create_serenity(Sivany) - Drarry, 19K

surprise surprise another fic about space, and it’s a kidfic (I mean, Teddy’s in it so not ~really~ but) i would rec this to anyone and everyone and i may be biased bc i fucking love harry potter but even if you dont read drarry this one’s worth reading. you’ve got sad draco and thick-headed harry aka perfection

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered - Drarry, 40K

so ive read a lot of drarry fics okay and coming across one where /draco/ is the one rescuing harry is pretty rare, but i LOVE it and this fic portrays them both so beautifully, idk i just really love this fic it’s very close to my heart and ive read it many many times

Love and the Purple Palace by  takhallus - Tomlinshaw, 23K

this was one of my first tomlinshaw fics i read and like, nothing will ever compare. their relationship in this fic is perfect and unique and youve got a lot of miscommunication and stubbornness (a defining factor for any good tomlinshaw fic) plus bottom louis plus a relatable quality to it that i cant find anywhere else

so this was about a week late SORRY but thank you for asking this is way more than you probably wanted but seriously, go read all these fics sorry some of them are pretty long

lmk if there are any discrepancies or any of the links dont work please :)

as usual, if your fic is on here and you would prefer me not to rec it just message me (with proof you are the author) and i’ll gladly remove it from this list

if you have any favorite fics feel free to rec them to me im always looking for new ones to read! 

also stay on the lookout for my famous/non-famous au rec coming soon :)

[snsmissionaries]

10/4/18 -- Sister Katie Buntin, Guatemala, Guatemala City Mission

basically forgot to send this but my comp reminded me good thing i wrote it before lolololol

hey family and friends!

first of all... THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! thank you to everyone who wished me happy birthday or wrote me a sweet note! i loved reading them and looking at all the pictures the primary kids drew, what a sweet sweet blessing i have to know all of you! but yall sure seem to have lots of questions, so this week will be more like a Q / A. to answer them all! 

 Q What do you get tto do on your birthday_

A I get to be a missionary of the lord and find new people to teach!

 Q Do you get a day off for your birthday

A Not really, we get every wednesday to write our families and friends and to buy groceries but we still try to talk to EVERYONE about the gospel because these messages make people happy and as a missionary we LOVE to help people be happy!

 Q Do you get to have a birthday party

A Not quite haha. we got to put up decorations my mom sent me and listen to EFY music and jump around like crazy people while brushing our teeth cause we forgot how to dance.

 Q Do you get to eat cake

A We sure do! my mom sent me cake that we can make in a microwave cause almost nobody has ovens that work here... 

SIDE NOTE one sister taught me how to make cake on the stove top in a water  bath and it will NEVER burn!it was delish!

 Q Whats it like being with a companion all day

A its like having a slumber party with your best friend all day!! its kinda the coolest  thing ever!

 Q Whats your favorite part of being a missionary

A Teaching people that they can have their families forever if the do the things the Lord wants them to do

 Q Whats your companion like

A Shes CRAZZZZZYYYYYY CCOOOLLL. shes so funny and we get to speak 3 languages in the house spanish, english, and portugese its super funny cause sometimes we try to talk in one language but we cant remember how so we end up speakig in 2 at the same time super jumbled up haha

 Q Whats the hardest thing for you right  now

A To think that in 6 months i wont be set apart as a missionary of the lord...

 Q what are you looking forward to when you go home

A Being a missionary! one thing ive learned while being here in guatemala is that the missionaries need the members help, without the members there is no success!

 Q Do you get tired

A More than  you know! but somehow the lord blesses me to get up every morning to do it all over again to walk miles every day to serve HIM!

 Q What do you guys eat in Guatemala

A Sometimes we eat weird things... like stomach or tongue... butttt the normal things we eat are fresh corn  tortillas, black beans, lots of fruits and veggies, EGGS EGGS AND MORE EGGS and lots of chicken! 

 Q Whats the weirdest thing youve eaten so far

A theres these ants that [fall from the sky[ and people pick them up and cook them with chilie and lime not the worst food ive tried in life but not the best haha.

 Q whats the thing you miss the most from home

A crock pot dinners, sometimes as missionaries we have no time to cook or we have time to cook but are so tired that we eat a cookie or something then go to bed... i miss having foods basically ready to go!

 Q any weird things that youre still not used to

A here they eat breakie whenthey want normally at 8am then lunch between 1pm and 4pm then dinner when everyone gets home between 8pm and 11pm its super hard to get used to im used to eating every 4 secconds lol

 so i think that was all the questions that i read on the letters and past emails haha! but thank you everyone for all that youve done to make this birthday specail from accross the miles! i love you guys!

   10/3/18

 Hermana Buntin

October 18 2017-April 16 2019

[sarahburness]

Breaking the Chains of Victimhood When You’ve Been Abused

“Toxically shamed people tend to become more and more stagnant as life goes on. They live in a guarded, secretive, and defensive way. They try to be more than human (perfect and controlling) or less than human (losing interest in life or stagnated in some addictive behavior).” ~John Bradshaw- Healing the Shame That Binds You

Do you feel like a victim? Are those around you suggesting that you are acting like a victim? Are these same people telling you to get over it and move on? Do these judgments and statements feel harmful or helpful for you? !

Most people making these harmful statements and suggestions do so with very little understanding or experience with being a victim. They have not taken the time to really listen to your story of what has happened in your life. They make their judgments from the place of never being a victim or not being willing to accept that they were.

People with a history of victimization do not need tough love, harsh words, or anyone’s reality check. Those things are most likely part of what happened to them. They need love, support, empathy, and compassion. If you are unable to give these things to them, the best thing you can do for them is to please stay out of it!

With that said, how do we break the chains that our victimization has had us bound in for so long? I know that many of the people I’ve worked with, like me, never totally allowed themselves to be a victim. We have lived our lives from the perspective that our victimization was somehow how our fault. It is this thought process that keeps us stuck.

I was sexually abused at the age of five by my mother. At that age, I didn’t have the cognitive ability to understand that my mother was at fault or that she could ever hurt me. I only had the ability blame myself; I must have done something wrong or been bad.

In order for us to break the chains, we must be willing to give the responsibility, shame, and guilt of what happened to us back to our victimizer. When we hold on to these feelings we are kept in limbo. It keeps us trapped between the pain of our victimization and the feeling that we were responsible for what happened to us. It’s no wonder we feel trapped.

In my case I unconsciously chose to bury the feelings from my abuse as deep and hidden in my psyche as I could. Of course, today I know that they never went anywhere except out of my conscious thoughts. Those feelings continued to work in my life like background programs running on a computer. Not seen, but affecting every area of my life.

“I think the first step is to understand that forgiveness does not exonerate the perpetrator. Forgiveness liberates the victim. It’s a gift you give yourself.” ~T. D. Jakes

Forgiveness is the last link in our binding chain. But, how do we get there? The most important thing to understand about forgiveness is that it comes at the end of a process. Very often we stay stuck because we misunderstand this process and think that it starts with forgiveness.

That may work for a while, but it’s like cleaning a room by throwing everything in the closet and closing the door. It’s merely an illusion, and a temporary fix at best. Forgiveness is more than a cerebral action. To be complete it must include our soul, heart, emotions, and our physical body.

I know for myself it had to start with the complete acceptance of the fact that I was victimized. No more minimizing what happened or making excuses for my victimizer. No more false macho pride telling me I was a punk to admit I had been taken advantage of and that it hurt.

My start was sitting alone with myself. No music, phone, TV, or reading material. Just me, myself, and I. You would think that this wouldn’t be very difficult. Well, it was for me, and after about ten minutes I thought I was going to rip out of my skin. The difficulty with it was that I was forced out my fantasy world and into reality. I was no longer running, ducking, dodging, or sneaking away from my life.

It was too much for me to handle on my own, so I decided to seek professional help. I found a great therapist who worked with me one on one and in a group setting. I always suggest to people to err on the side of caution and do this work with a professional.

I was stepping into a part of my emotional world that I had spent a great deal of time and energy avoiding at all costs. I knew that the way to forgiveness was through my abuse and its emotions, not over or around it. To do that, I needed an experienced guide.  

In therapy, we talk a lot about recovery by discovery. The peeling back layers of the onion. This describes my journey through my emotional quagmire to a T. As with most things, the first layer was the hardest. That was because my first layer was composed of anger, which has always been the hardest emotion for me.

I had been told all my life that it was not okay for me to be angry. I was too big and I might hurt someone.

When my siblings maliciously teased me and I did not have the words to stop them, my only resolve was to beat them up. In my parent’s eyes, I was then the one acting inappropriately and was punished. By making me the perpetrator in the situation, they basically were shaming my anger.

So a great deal of work was needed for me to be all right with tapping into my anger. Once I became comfortable with feeling angry, the next obstacle was to be able to tap into my anger while working in a session with my therapist and closing the lid on it when I was done.

My anger had been bottled up and pressurized for so long it was like a blast furnace. I had to learn to cap it off so I did not leave with it raging and blast those around me like a flamethrower.

Once that work was done, I learned that the anger was covering my pain. So my process became one of removing layers. Finding and releasing the anger then feeling and dealing with the pain. Over and over again until I reached its core, which was all pain.

I will always remember spending a whole session with my therapist on the floor sobbing and wailing as my body released waves and waves of pain and hurt.

Then a miracle occurred: I was done. It was over. Not like a faucet was turned off. It was like a vessel becoming empty.

It was shocking and I looked at my therapist expecting her to ask me why I closed down. She looked at me with the most beautiful and empathic look I have ever seen and all she said was “You are done.” Not with all the work that I needed to do but with being a victim of my sexual abuse.

I was now in a place where I could completely forgive my mother with no residual feelings of attachments. I have learned that what works best for me when I have made big shifts like this in my healing is to ground them in a ceremony.

So, I wrote my mother a letter and traveled to where her ashes were cast. I read the letter out loud and then burned it. The last thing I did was to say aloud that I forgave her and have a friend cleanse me with burning sage. I walked away feeling complete and resolved.

Did that mean that I was whole and complete? Of course not; I still had a lot of work to do. But I now knew that I had worked through the biggest and most painful victimization of my life. If I could do that, I could handle and was willing to do any other work needed to be done.

The greatest act of love I have ever given myself was the willingness to do what I needed to do to heal. It no longer feels like work but it is now a blessing I have been given. Every day I pray that all those who need to heal choose to do this work. My hope is that you do!

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About Paul Hellwig

Paul Hellwig is a Certified Spiritual Life Coach who empowers adult children of alcoholic and addicted families to live the life they have always dreamed of. He is an adult child of an alcoholic and a recovering addict with over twenty-seven years clean. He’s dedicated his life to helping others on their spiritual and healing journey. Visit him at  thejourneytohealing.org.

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The post Breaking the Chains of Victimhood When You’ve Been Abused appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/breaking-the-chains-of-victimhood-when-youve-been-abused/

[abandoned-as-mustard]

Ouat 1x13

oops I forgot to do a reaction to the last episode. So we all know the story of beauty and the beast. Is the beast replaced with rumple?? Aaaand why does it not surprise me that Regina keeps belle imprisoned in the hospital secret basement thing. Pure evil. So rumple remembers his identity. Did he ever forget it or did evil queen let him keep it. Except now apparently regina doesn’t know her own identity because she seemed intent on mr gold telling her his real name. Except that could obviously be deception. I mean, she had someone’s heart in a fricking box and knew that squeezing it would kill them! I can’t decide if she knows or not.

Anyway! Now. Onto ouat 1x13.

Funny. Fairytale Kathryn didn’t wanna marry charming but in this life she wants to be with him.

“I choose you” oh, finally David you made up your damn mind!!

Lolllll Emma already knew about mary and david.

Come on David. TELL. KATHRYN. THE. TRUUUUUUUUTH!! Since no one can leave storybrooke its gonna be awkward if she sticks around.

So abigail had a man called frederick and he’s turned into gold oooh

Oooh there’s a magical lake with the power to undo curses. That could undo snow whites forgetting potion!

OOOHHHHHH THE STRANGER IN TOWN IS FREDERICK or am I just led tjat way since it transitioned to a pictire in the storybook

And he’s sewing together the fairytale book. Ooh nice.

Oh noooooooo kathryn has come to see regina and regina knows about david and Mary.

OH, FUCK YOU!!!!!!! SHE DOBBED THEM IN

AS IFFFF SHE HAS PHOTOS

creepy

Yes kathryn is mad at regina for lying

Ooohhh no kathryn the storm has blown into school

Charming going to the lake to get the water feels like harry going voldy’s inferi lake to get dumbledore water

I can’t remember motorbike guy’s storybrooke name but I’d love to do a writer’s workshop with him

Nooo charming don’t kiss the siren

And she’s taking him underwater EWWW there are skeletons there

Eyyyyyy he stabbed the siren yess

Oh no I think Mary is gonna break up with David because he didn’t tell kathryn

Bloody hell when are they ever gonna get together forever

Aww motorbike stitched back the book and left it for emma to find

Regina is like that annoying creepy person who ships all of your notps just to spite you. She keeps telling kathryn to be with david ugh.

Kathryn: my marriage to david was like an illusion

AHAHAHAHA YOUVE GOT IT!!!! THATS EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS!!!! In the literal sense.

Kathryn wrote a letter to david and mary and then she mentioned it to regina. And now she is gonna find it.

I don’t like the way regina is looking at kathryn like she’s a meal

I fuCKING KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW THAT REGINA WOULD JUST TAKE THE LETTER

AND THEN SHE’S GONNA FEED MARY AND DAVID SOME BULLSHIT ABOUT KATHRYN HATING THEM

WHAT HOW THE FUCKING HELL DOES SHE JUST HAVE THE KEYS TO DAVID’S PLACE YOU CREEPY ASS BITCH I FUCKING HATE YOU REGINA GO DIE IN HELL I DONT CARE IF YOURE FUCKING BROKEN HEARTED FROM SOME IDIOT IN FAIRYTALE LAND RHEY WERE LUCKY TO GET AWAY FROM YOY AND YOUR DEVILISH HORNS AMD YOUR FUCKING SCHEMING IF YOU WERENT SO HOREIBLE TO LITERALLY EVERYEONE THWN MAYBE I MIGHT HATE YOU LESS BUT EVEN THEN I WOULD NEVER EVER EVER WVWR WVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVWR EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER LIKE YOUUUU. I just hate the stupid smirk she does. I HATE HOW SHE IS IN CONTROL OF EVERYRHING

IF SOMEONE CALLED YOU A HEINOUS BITCH TO YOUR FACE AND THEN CUT OFF YOUR HEAD I WOULD FUCKING CELEBRATE WITH NO EMPATHY WHATSOEVER

I HAVE NOT HATED A VILLAIN THIS MUCH EVER

and of course kathryn just left the letter in plain sight for her to take

Awww emma gave the book back to Henry

And charming is running away with Red to find Snowy!

Ohh dear God please don’t tell me — and regina is burning the letter

OhHHHHHHH FREDERICK FOUND KATHRYN’S CAR WRECK but no kathryn inside

And then we cut back to queen – wait you’re such a heinous bitch you don’t deserve to be called queen. And we cut back to regina the AKDKWKSLLFJAKDNWJEOSO smirking like I wanna slap her so bad as she watches the letter burn. Like omg you are a fucking psychopath!!!!!!

And end.

Sorry about the swearing, but I HAVE SOOOOOOO MUCH FRUSTRATION AND A BURNING DESIRE TO SEE REGINA GET HER JUST DESSERTS!!!!!!!!!!!