#just being reminded of that book makes me weep

[seafoamdew]

For your promps can you do jack and hiccup as Achilles and Patroclus from “The song of Achilles” :0

First of all, how fking dare you-

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Zuck’s gravity-defying metaverse money-pit

Tomorrow (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

Think of everything that makes you miserable as being caught between two opposing, irresistible, irrefutable truths:

"Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops" (Stein's Law)

"Markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent" (Keynes)

Both of these are true, even though they seemingly contradict one another, and no one embodies that contradiction more perfectly than Mark Zuckerberg.

Take the metaverse.

Zuck's "pivot" to a virtual world he ripped off from a quarter-century old cyberpunk novel (reminder: cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion) was born of desperation.

Zuck fancies himself an avatar of the Emperor Augustus (that's why he has that haircut) (no, really). The emperors of antiquity are infamous for getting all weepy when they run out of lands to conquer.

But the lachrymosity of emperors has little causal relationship to the anxieties of tech monopolists! Alexander weeps because he just loves a good conquest and when he finishes conquering the world, he's terminally bored. That's not Zuck's problem at all. When Zuck attains monopoly status, his company develops an autoimmune disorder, as his vicious princelings run out of enemies to destroy and begin to knife one another.

Any monopoly faces these destructive microincentives, but tech is exceptional here because tech has the realtime flexibility and speed that brick-and-mortar businesses can never match:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Sociopaths with tech monopolies are worse for the same reason that road-rage would be worse in a flying car: adding new capacity to indiscriminate self-destructive urges turns ordinary car crashes into low-level airburst warfare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The flexibility of digital gives tech platforms so much latitude to break things in tiny increments. A tech platform is like a Jenga tower composed of infinitely divisible blocks. The Jenga players are the product managers and executives who have run out of the ability to grow by attracting new business thanks to their monopoly dominance. Now they compete with one another to increase the yield from their respective divisions by visiting pain upon the business customers and end users their platform connects. By tiny increments, they increase the product's cost, lower its reliability, and strip it of its utility and then charge rent to restore its functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/24/cursed-bigness/#incentives-matter

This is the terminal stage of enshittification, the unstoppable autocannibalism of platforms as they seek to harvest all the value created by business customers and end users, leaving the absolute minimum of residual value needed to keep both stuck to the platform. This is a brittle equilibrium, because the difference between "I hate this service but I just can't stop using it," and "Get me the fuck out of here" is razor-thin.

All it takes is one tiny push – a whistleblower, a livestreamed mass-shooting, a Cambridge Analytica – and people bolt for the doors. This triggers the final stage: the "pivot," which is a tech euphemism for "panic."

For Zuck, the pivot got real after a disappointing earnings call triggered a mass sell-off of Facebook stock, history's worst one-day value incineration, which lopped a quarter of a trillion dollars off the company's market cap:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-12-19/dramatic-stock-moves-of-2022-led-by-meta-dive-nordic-flash-crash

This was when the metaverse became the company's top priority.

Now, in my theory of enshittification, the step that follows the pivot is death: "Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Many people have asked me about the conspicuous non-death of Facebook! That's where I have to fall back on Stein's Law: "Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Facebook can't continue to annihilate value, alienate its workers, harm the public, hemorrhage money in support of a mediocrity's cherished folly forever. Can it?

Admittedly, it sure seems like it can. Facebook's metaverse pivot has thus far cost the company $46,500,000,000. That is: $46.5 billion. That's even more money than Uber torched, seeking to maintain the illusion that they will be able to create monopolies on both transport and the labor market for driving and recoup the billions the Saudi royal family let them use for the con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Don't worry: the Saudi royals are fine! They cashed out at the IPO, collecting a tidy profit at the expense of retail investors who assumed that a pile of shit as big as Uber must have a pony under it, somewhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber has doubled the cost of rides and halved drivers' wages, using illegal gimmicks like "algorithmic wage discrimination" to squeeze a little more juice out of the nearly exhausted husks of its workforce:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But Stein's Law hasn't been repealed. Drivers can't drive for sub-subsistence wages. Do that long enough and they'll literally starve: that's what "subsistence" means. We lost a decade of transit investment thanks to the Uber con, at the same time as traditional taxi drivers were forced out of the industry. Uber can't be profitable and still pay a living wage, and the fantasy of self-driving cars as a means of zeroing out the wage-bill altogether remains stubbornly, lethally unworkable:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Which means we're at the point where you can get off a commuter train at a main station and find yourself stranded: no taxis at the taxi-queue, no busses due for an hour, and no Uber cars available unless you're willing to pay $95 for a ten-minute ride in a luxury SUV (why yes, this did happen to me recently, thanks for asking).

As more and more of us are exposed to these micro-crises, the political will to do something will increase. This can't go on forever. "Don't use commuter rail" isn't a viable option. "Walk three miles each way to the commuter rail station" isn't viable either. Neither is "Pay $95 for an Uber to get to the station." Something's gotta give…eventually.

"Eventually" is the key word here. Remember the corollary of Stein's Law: Keynes's maxim that "markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." Sure, anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, but that is no guarantee of a soft landing. You can't smoke two packs a day forever – but in the absence of smoking cessation, the eventual terminus of that habit is stage-four lung cancer. Keep hammering butts into your face and your last smoke will come out a crematorium chimney.

Zuckerberg hasn't merely blown a whole-ass Twitter on the metaverse with nothing to show for it – he's gotten richer while doing it! In the past year, his net worth increased by 130%, to $59 billion, thanks to an increase in Facebook's share-price, driven by investors who stubbornly remain irrational, keeping the Boy Emperor solvent long past any reasonable assessment of his performance.

What are these investors betting on? One possibility is that the rise and rise of Facebook's share-price represents a bet on technofeudalism. Since the Communist Manifesto, Marxists have been predicting the end of capitalism. That end seems to have come, but what followed capitalism wasn't socialism, it was the return of feudalism, an economic system where elites derive their wealth from rents, not profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profit is the income you get from investing in capital – machinery, systems, plant – and then harvesting the surplus value created by workers who mobilize this capital. Capitalism produces massive returns for its winners – in the Manifesto's first chapter, Marx and Engels just geek out about how productive and dynamic this system is.

But capitalism is also a Red Queen's Race, where the winners have to run faster and faster to stay in the same place. Capitalism drives competition, as other would-be winners pile into the sector, replicating the systems that the current winners are using and then improving on them. This is why the prophets of capitalist end-times like the FBI informant Peter Thiel say that "competition is for losers."

Capitalism's "profits" stand in contrast to the feudalist's "rents." Rents are income you get from owning something that other people need to produce things. The capitalist owns the coffee-shop, but the feudalist owns the building. When a rival capitalist opens a superior coffee-shop and drives the old shop out of business, the capitalist loses, but the rentier wins. Now they can rent out an empty storefront in the neighborhood everyone's coming to because of that hot new cafe.

Feudal and manorial lords also made their fortunes by extracting surplus value from workers, but these rentiers don't care about owning the means of production. The peasant in the field pays for their own agricultural equipment and livestock – control over the means of production is necessary for worker liberation, but it's not sufficient. The worker's co-op that owns its factory can still find the value it produces bled off by the landlord who owns the land the factory sits on.

The jury's still out on whether American workers really see themselves as "temporarily embarrassed millionaires," but America's capitalists have a palpable, undeniable loathing for capitalism. The dream of an American "entrepreneur" is *PassiveIncome: money you get from owning something capitalists and/or workers use to create value. Digital technology creates exciting new possibilities for rent-extraction: a taxi-operator had to buy and maintain a car that someone else drove. Uber can offload this hassle onto its drivers and rent out access to the chokepoint it created between drivers and riders, charging all the traffic can bear. This is feudalism in the cloud – or as Yannis Varoufakis calls it, cloudalism.

In Varoufakis's Technofeudalism, he describes Amazon as a feudal venture. From a distance, Amazon seems like a bustling marketplace of manic capitalism, with sellers avidly competing to offer more variety and lower costs in a million independently operated storefronts. But closer inspection reveals that Amazon is a planned economy, not a market.

Every one of those storefronts pays rent to the same landlord – Amazon – which determines which goods can be offered for sale. Amazon sets pricing for those goods, and extracts 45-51% of every dollar those sellers make. Amazon even controls which goods are shelved at eye-height when you enter the store, and which ones are banished to a dusty storeroom in a distant sub-basement you'll never find:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

Zuck's metaverse is pure-play technofeudalism, Amazon taken to the logical extreme. It's easy to get distracted by the part of Zuck's vision that will convert us all into legless, sexless, heavily surveilled low-resolution cartoon characters. But the real action isn't this digitization of our fleshy wants and needs. Zuck didn't spend $46.5B to torment us.

The cruelty isn't the point of the metaverse.

The point of the metaverse is to rent us out to capitalists.

Zuck doesn't know why we would use the metaverse, but he believes that if he can convince capitalists that we all want to live there, that they'll invest the capital to figure out how to serve us there, and then he can extract rent from those capitalists and start earning "passive income." It's an Uber for Cyberpunk Dystopias play.

Zuck's done this before. Remember the "pivot to video?" Zuckerberg wanted to compete with Youtube, but he didn't want to invest in paying for video production. Videos are really expensive to produce and the median video gets zero views. So Zuck used his captive audience to trick publishers into financing his move into video. He fraudulently told publishers that videos were blowing up on Facebook, outperforming boring old text by vast margins.

Publishers borrowed billions and raised billions more in the capital markets, financing the total conversion of newsrooms from text to video and precipitating a mass extinction event for print journalists. Zuck kept the con alive by giving away (fewer) billions to some of those publishers, falsely claiming that their videos were generating fortunes in advertising revenue. These lucky, credulous publishers became judas goats for their industry, luring others into the con, the same way that the "lucky" guy a carny lets win a giant teddy-bear at the start of the day lures others into putting down $5 to see if they can sink three balls in a rigged peach-basket.

But when we stubbornly refused to watch videos on Facebook, Zuck stopped spreading around these convincer payouts, and precipitated a second mass-extinction event in news media, as the new generation of video journalists joined their predecessors in Facebook-driven unemployment. Given this history, it's surreal to see publishers continue to insist that Facebook is stealing their content, when it is so clearly stealing their money:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

Metaverse is the new Pivot to Video. Zuckerberg is building a new world, which he will own, and he wants rent it to capitalists, who will compete with one another in just the way that Amazon's sellers compete. No matter who wins that competition, Zuckerberg will win. The prize for winning will be a rent increase, as Zuckerberg leverages the fact that your "successful" business relies on Facebook's metaverse to drain off all the value your workers have produced:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

This can't last forever, but how long until Zuck's reality distortion field runs out of battery? That's the $46.5B question.

The market can certainly remain irrational for a hell of a long time. But the market isn't the only force that regulates corporate outcomes. Regulators also regulate. Europe's GDPR is now seven years old, and it plainly outlaws Facebook's surveillance.

For nearly a decade, Facebook has pretended that this wasn't true, and they got away with it. Mostly, that's thanks to the fact that Ireland is a corporate crime-haven with a worse-than-useless Data Protection Commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

But anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Facebook has finally been dragged into EU federal jurisdiction, where it will face exterminatory fines if it continues to spy on Europeans:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/07/luck-of-the-irish/#schrems-revenge

In response, Facebook has rolled out a subscription version of its main service and its anticompetitive acquisition, Instagram:

https://about.fb.com/news/2023/10/facebook-and-instagram-to-offer-subscription-for-no-ads-in-europe/

For €10/month, Facebook will give you an ad-free experience across its service offerings (it's €13/month if you pay through an app, as Facebook recoups the 30% #AdTax rents that the feudal Google/Apple mobile duopoly extracts).

But this doesn't come close to satisfying Facebook's legal obligations under the GDPR. The GDPR doesn't ban ads, it bans spying. Facebook spies on every single internet user, all the time. The apps we use are built with "free" Facebook toolkits that extract rent from the capitalists who make them by harvesting our data as we use their apps. The web-pages we visit have embedded Facebook libraries that do the same thing for web publishers. Facebook buys our data from brokers. Facebook has so many ways of spying on us that there's almost certainly no way for Facebook to stop spying on you, without radically transforming it operation.

To comply with the GDPR, Facebook must halt surveillance advertising altogether. There's no way to square "spying on users" with "you can't surveil without explicit consent, and you can't punish people for refusing."

And of course, "not spying" isn't the same as "not advertising." "Contextual advertising" – where ads are placed based on the thing you're looking at, not who you are and what you do – is hundreds of years old. Context ads underperform surveillance ads by a slim margin – about 5% – but they're vastly more profitable for publishers. That's because surveillance ads are feudal, controlled by rentiers like Facebook, who own vast troves of the surveillance data needed to run these ads. Traditional ad intermediaries (agencies, brokers) took 10-15% out of the total advertising market. Ad-tech companies – the Google/Facebook duopoly – take 51% out of every ad dollar spent.

Eliminate surveillance ads and you torch their feudal estates. Facebook will always know more about someone reading a news article than the publisher – but the publisher will always know more about the article than Facebook does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

There are rents under capitalism, just as there are profits under feudalism. The defining characteristic of a system is what happens when rents and profits come into conflict. If profits win – for example, if productive companies beat patent trolls, or if news publishers escape Facebook's rent-extraction – then the system is capitalist. If rents win – if investors continue to bet large on the metaverse as its losses pass $50 billion and head for the $100 billion mark – then the system is feudal.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. The question isn't whether the platforms will eventually become so enshittified that they die – the question is whether they will go down in an all-consuming fireball, or whether they'll go down in a controlled demolition that lets us evacuate the people they've trapped inside them first:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Puente_de_las_cataratas_Victoria,_Zambia-Zimbabue,_2018-07-27,_DD_10.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[lizardkingeliot]

I guess I just didn't, like... expect most of the trial to be about Louis and Lestat's love story? And it's kind of throwing me for a loop rn I can't lie. Obviously those of us who have read tvl know Lestat was forced to be there. He wasn't there for revenge. He forgave them already! But....

I don't know. As hard as it was to watch it almost feels, like... weirdly affirming to the idea that the show is, in fact, all about their love? Like... even with the sham trial and Lestat being such a good performer it was SO evident how much Lestat was actually hurting up there. They had to telepathically remind him of his lines. He looked like he was physically going to collapse on several occasions. He went off script to apologize to Louis while weeping. Even to the general audience who hasn't read the books, there's no way the depth of that love isn't going to come across.

I'm feeling very raw right now and I'll probably need some time before I can articulate this better. I'll definitely need some time before I can articulate this better. But their love is just... right there. In all its toxic, fucked up vampiric glory. They can do anything to each other and the bond can't be broken. They have hurt each other so much. Just so so much it's unfathomable from a human perspective but also...

I don't know that they've ever felt more human to me than they did in 2x07. Not to get too personal on main, but I've been in that unhappy toxic marriage, albeit to a much less insane degree. Still... I know how Lestat feels. I know how Louis feels too. But I especially know how it feels to be neglected by your lover the way Louis neglected Lestat in that very specific way. To want them so badly you ache every second of every day. It is literal hell on earth in a way you can never know until you experience it. To have someone withhold from you (esp as a way to punish you). That shit hurts. And I'm just so glad the show is addressing it while also not trying in any way to excuse the very fucked up thing Lestat did to Louis in response.

Anyway. That's not the point I'm trying to make. The point I'm trying to make is... they're going to be fine. The show wouldn't be putting such an emphasis on their relationship if it wasn't the whole point of the show. It's seriously the whole point of the show and it makes me insane! They both fucked up real bad but we already know they're bloodbound soulmates destined to be together. They're endgame. They're VAMPIRES. They live forever. They will forgive each other. Over and over. Forever and ever...

[randomdragonfires]

Pieces of a Woman | Bonus

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | In the aftermath of the Battle Above The God's Eye, a mad widow weeps.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Yearning; Major Character Death; ANGST.

WORD COUNT | 1.2k

A/N | Not beta read. To be read as an accompaniment to this one shot, but I suppose it works as a standalone too. Repost from my old blog.

There is a chill in the air that she does not like.

The white shift that she wore was too thin to allow her any semblance of warmth, and she is reminded of that as the cold air hits her form. Her days are long and her nights are lonely, each moment taking longer to pass than it should as she sits quietly, rocking herself back and forth with her hands hugging her knees. A loud thunderstorm strikes through the Keep - it is scary and loud enough to make her whimper and mumble into her hands.

“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond,” she repeats over and over.

Her eyes are an endless pit, having lost all their charm from months of isolated confinement. Her hands are frail, and they shake incessantly even when there is nothing within her line of sight to scare her. Her once beautiful hair is now unkempt and dry, falling around the sides of her hair like a dark, damning curtain. 

Aemond loved my hair, she thinks. He always thought I had beautiful hair.

Aemond is dead.

She continues to cry, her eyes a mad, murderous red as the tears fall freely down her cheek. 

Aemond would have wiped them off, she thinks. He would have kissed my forehead and told me I’d be alright.

Aemond is dead.

It is a rare moment of clarity, this moment in time. She does not have them often anymore, she knows. In times like this, she has always heard servants whispering about her apparent behaviour when she was not conscious of her being. 

“Madness. She’s gone mad, the poor thing,” the servant maid had whispered outside her doors one night. “Absolute shame. She scratched the poor Prince’s face out yesterday!”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. Her husband, her love, hers.

Not anymore.

She lifts her hands and cries, her tears a seemingly endless stream. She had hurt the man she loved with these very hands - her nails had dried blood on them, and she doesn't know where it could have come from. Was it Aemond’s blood? She does not know. Has she been scratching her own skin out?

She stands up and screams as the words continue to ring in her weak, fragile mind. “Aemond is dead. Your husband fought valiantly, Your Grace,” the servant maid had said. In a fit of anger, she takes the book - Ten Thousand Ships - left strewn about on her bedside. She does not know who had brought it, or where it had come from - all she knows is that they did not believe her worthy enough to deliver the news to her themselves, and had sent a servant maid to relay it to her.

She was everything to Aemond. She is worth nothing to them. 

The realization hits her harsher than the gust of wind that she is now trying to shield herself from as she cries and tears the book to shreds. The pages fly about before they fall to the ground like light noiseless water drops. She continues to tear at it to her heart’s content and cries, cries, cries - but it is not enough. It is never enough.

Aemond is dead.

She does not remember much from when they were married - just that she had a husband who loved her enough to keep her. Was there a son? She remembers a baby boy. Was he hers? Was he Aemond’s? Where was he?

Aemond is dead.

She grips the hem of her shift and bends down to let her head rest on the cold, unmade bed. Her sobs are muffled by the cushions as they permeate the air in groans and whines. She then sits on the same bed and continues to weep - for what, she struggles to recall - only for a moment before it hits her again.

Aemond is dead.

She does not recognize the movement of her hands as she hugs herself. Her nails dig deep into the flesh of her arms as she weeps, rocking herself back and forth once more. Her cries are loud, louder and louder still, almost as though she was shouldering the sadness of the entire Keep. How could she not, after all she had been through?

Aemond is dead.

She is a dark silhouette in a greying room, a scary sight in her shift and untamed hair let loose. The servants treat her like she is some sort of wild animal, one that they are afraid of being eaten and hurt by. She has not known the love of her family in what seems like years, and she does not remember all the nights that her husband had come to give her warmth and comfort.

Aemond is dead. 

But who was Aemond?

Her thoughts fluctuate constantly - one moment she knows, one moment she does not. One moment she was in his arms, and the next she was screaming at him to let her die. Die, die, die. The words have taken over her completely in this moment and her feet carry her to the large window of their own accord. The young Princess, a new widow, steps on the ledge and watches the grounds of the city as it sleeps in the pale moonlight.

Die, die, die. Aemond was dead. Dead. Who was Aemond? Who is he? A husband. Aemond? A baby?

Her feet sway just slightly as she regains her balance, and she turns back to look around the room as she spots the torn pages. True to her madness, despite her confusion all this time, her thoughts oscillate once more. Ten Thousand Ships, a gift from… Aemond. A man who loved her more than she could even try, a man she loved back with all that she ever was.

But who was Aemond?

She breathes out raggedly, heavily, audibly - waiting for the loudness in her mind to stop as she clutches her head tight with her palms and covers her ears. But it does not, it never does. 

Madwoman… wife… a son… a Prince… poor thing… once a beautiful, happy girl born in the spring… dead. Aemond was dead.

In her last moment of unhinged grief, one of the pages flies about and she remembers.

Aemond was her husband. Aemond loved her. Aemond wanted her to get better. Aemond wanted her to be safe. Aemond wanted her to love him again. Aemond wanted her to come back to him. Aemond did not want her to die.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…

She remembers. She remembers happy days when she had been a wife and a mother. She remembers better days when she was beautiful and happy and had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on; in whose eyes she could do no wrong.

She remembers safe arms around her, kisses to her temple, rough thrusts into her cunt. She remembers her hands holding onto his, his warm breath fanning her face, sweet nothings whispered in her ear. She remembers him reading to her in his low voice, in rumbling whispers that made her giggle once upon a time. She remembers and knows that Aemond did not want her to die.

Die, die, die. Aemond did not want her to-

It happens quickly.

Her foot slips and she falls, falls, falls. It is seemingly never-ending and she does not scream. She makes no noise as she sees windows and bricks zoom past her, looking at them briefly at an angle she never has before. Her shift billows above her knees and her hair flies in all directions and she falls, falls, falls…

Until she abruptly lands.

The warmth of the blood pooling below her head is a last moment of comfort for her. The last thing she sees is the blurring sight of thick, viscous blood seeping through her hair, coloring the floor red. 

Not my hair, she thinks with her dying breath. Aemond loved my hair.  He always thought I had beautiful hair.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

[flower-yi]

OKAY SO…. the one where you run your fingers through their hair? aventurine 🤫 (also forgive me if it’s kinda long…)

why? because it reminds him of how a mother stokes the first few strands of their child. or how a sister brushes hair from their siblings eye when they play. aventurine as a child has this messy tussled hair— something about not being put together is so vulnerable.

anyways, as he lies their on the couch, you reading a book, your hands subconsciously running through his blond locks- he stops.

there is a poem i read by Dilruba Ahmed called ‘Phase One’ and the ending part hits so deep. I suggest you read the rest of the poem yourself!!

I forgive you. For growing

a capacity for love that is great

but matched only, perhaps, by your loneliness. For being unable

to forgive yourself first so you

could forgive others and

at last find a way to become

the love that you want in this world.

He won’t say anything, simply silence. and in those twilight hours, does he unravel and silently say ‘i love you’

13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch. | "I forgive you, for growing a capacity for love that is great but matched only, perhaps, by your loneliness; for being unable to forgive yourself first so you could then forgive others and, at last, find a way to become the love you want in this world." — Phase One, Dilruba Ahmed

For all that he is, and for all that he wants to be (even if he is what he wants to be), Aventurine's pristine appearance buries beneath the child that is unkempt, unpolished, ragged. He wears clothes bearing the names of talented designers in the cosmos; has a watch from some pricey brand you fail to recall; is clad with shoes that touch the ground with a resounding clack, clack, clack because they are made from materials you would not see, as a regular citizen, in their lifetime.

Aventurine is always dressed to the nines, similarly strutting like a peacock with its tail raised: all thousand eyes darted and watching you, an observer, stare back.

Yet, in the arms of a beloved, the untouchable does not remain untouchable, and instead, becomes vulnerable, like shedding armor after a deadly battle. His head lays on your lap, while you idle your time away, nose buried in a book he's gotten you the other day. Time is often a luxury, and what time spent here just staring at you can be spent elsewhere making money, hungry for more, and greedy for everything, but you are here; simply unaware, or just blissfully ignorant that every second sitting here is wasted.

But you don't have that mentality, do you? You've lived life with no urgency to it. Failure falls upon you, and you decide it's okay to stumble. There is no moments where you have to sit and lap at your wounds, because there was nothing for you to get hurt from; nothing to heal from.

Your fingers course through hair normally styled, perfect, and, to you, the simple act is nothing. You've known security from the start, and he's yet to be familiar with it. Perhaps he's slowly doing so, because, when that realization comes to him, it stings.

It stings his eyes, and he turns his head away from you.

(You know more than you do. When Kakavasha turns, hot liquid staining your pajamas, you innocently swipe a thumb over his eyes to wipe away the tears. You let him weep, silently.)

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • Part 5

warnings: none!!! just sad

read previous chapter here

Y/N struggles with not knowing where Rosie is.

Every day had been the same since Rosie had gone MIA. You'd wake up, head feeling like it was in a vice and get to the school on autopilot. The sky had been appropriately gray, and thick with fog most mornings, the twin of your current state of mind. You'd stay at the school late, grading papers and try your best to construct meaningful lesson plans so the children could still thrive and learn despite your sadness. They'd sometimes ask, their sweet, little faces full of sympathy as they'd question your upset. “Miss?” A little voice would say, “Are you alright?” You'd force a smile on your face and look back at them reassuringly. 

“Yes, my dear,” your voice catching in your throat. “I'll be fine.”

---

A week. And then two. Three, then four, all rolling into a ball of nothingness, blurring together. Most days, you're greeted by Sally who is always available to walk you home despite the treacherous weather and everyday she looks at you with her big sad eyes, shaking her head mournfully, wordlessly reminding you that there's no new information. Most days, you walk home in silence, her arm in yours, keeping you upright physically as well as metaphorically.

It's on the fourth week, on a Friday, that you hear a sharp rap on your door. Being in bed already - the only way you can seem to feel close to Rosie - you simply yell “come in!” to whoever is visiting at this late hour. You hear the door open quietly, and hear the familiar tip-tap of Sally in her kitten heels. You hear her kicking them off and placing them by the door, hurrying up the stairs in her now stockinged feet, padding all the way up the plush carpet. 

“Hi, darling,” she greets quietly, her face full of sympathy. “I thought I'd try coax you out to the pub.”

“No thanks,” you mumble, staring up at the ceiling. “I'm fine here.”

“Oh, doll,” she begins, walking towards the bed. “How are you doing?” Still not tearing your eyes from the ceiling, you nod quickly, trying to reassure your friend. But she knows you better than that, and after all these years, she can read you like a book. Before you can properly respond, she sees two tears leak from each eye and splash into your ears and on the pillow. 

Trying to comfort you the way she used to when you were kids, she goes to lay down next to you on the bed.

“No!” you start. “N-no, Sal. Don't lay there,” you softly weep. “That's where Rosie slept the night before–” You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to stop the tears flowing. “It still smells like him. Don't lay on it, Sal.” You pause, looking at your friend, her own eyes full of tears. She sniffs, trying to blink them back. 

“Then squidge up,” she says after a moment. “I'll lay on your pillow with you.” You wriggle slightly to the right to make room for her in the center of the bed, you just hanging off the edge slightly. She takes your hand and strokes it, just like she did right after Granny passed away. You whimper at her action, the sob that was thick in your throat finally being released. 

“Where is he, Sally? Where's my boy?”

“Y/N…darling…I don't know. I ask James everyday for an update. He's promised that he'll be round here like a shot if he ever finds anything out.” You nod, swallowing as you sniff back more tears.

“He's a good egg, Sal. I like him. I like how happy he makes you.”

“Me, too,” she sighs wistfully. “When all this is all over, I'm thinking of moving there to be with him.” 

“Sally, that's wonderful. I'll miss you terribly–”

“But let's not talk of that now. We need to take care of you.” She crawls off the bed and pulls you with her. “Come on,” she commands, rushing to your wardrobe. “You need to stop rotting. Let's go to the pub. Apparently, Rita is engaged to two of the Americans and neither knows about the other. Isn't that something?” You hear yourself gasp and then giggle, the first laugh you've made in weeks. 

“Well, now you've tempted me. Now I have to come.” 

—

The excited yapping you hear as you walk into the pub ceases at the sight of you, your friends looking back at you in surprise, before they stand up and rush to hug you, one by one. Murmurs of “oh, Y/N, we're so happy to see you,” and “how are you doing?” follow their embraces, and you find your eyes leaking at their affection and sympathy. Hugging them back, you sigh, not quite used to this level of affection.

 “Alright, ladies,” you struggle to gasp out, but smiling nonetheless. “I need to know everything about Rita. Spill.” 

They sit down, excited to finally be able to tell you the tales they've heard over the past few weeks. For a moment, your head is clear, listening to your friends chatter on, their voices octaves higher as they giggle their way through the spiel. You don't even notice that Sally has rushed over to the bar to greet James, until he places a pint in front of you with a sympathetic smile. He winks at you as you smile back, knowing you're thanking him with no words needed. You take a long sip, letting the alcohol run through your body and somehow, giving it warmth as you finally are able to enjoy something.

“So, she ended up saying yes to both men because she didn't want to upset either of them, and somehow, Y/N, neither knows about the other. But, get this! They're co-pilots!”

“What?!” you screech, ale almost flying through your nose in shock. “They must know! There's absolutely no way–”

“We thought that, too!” Sally replies, wide eyed and a little frazzled. “But Rita maintains that they have no clue.”

“Nope, not buying it,” you giggle, hand covering your mouth. “They must talk about her to one another! They're either ignoring it or somehow, it's not clicking that they're both with the same girl!” 

For just a small moment, your overwhelming sadness is forgotten, the pit in your stomach somehow smaller than it had been in the past weeks. But, then, all of a sudden, your mind goes back to the night you spent with him; how he'd touched you, the way he'd wrapped himself around you to fall asleep for those few hours. The way he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. It's those thoughts that send you into a tailspin, lips pressed together to keep the tears at bay. Draining your glass, you gesture over to the barman for another and try to keep breathing steadily. 

—

“Hey! Wait, seriously? You're not lyin’ to me?” You hear a familiar Tennessee drawl behind you, and an excited one at that. “Croz, she's right there!” They both pause for a moment. “Can I tell her, sir?”

“Sure thing,” Croz replies. You turn around at the two familiar voices. James smiling brightly at you, Harry nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, clutching his hat in his slightly shaking hands. 

“Y/N, c'mere, doll!” James beckons you over with his booming voice. You stand and walk towards the two men, forcing a polite smile on your face. 

“Hi, James. Oh, Harry, wonderful to see you. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No, ma'am,” he replies, now not able to hold back his apparent joy. “Pearson here has something to tell you. I've been rushing all over base looking for this fella to tell him what he's about to tell you.” You look at James with an expectant expression, feeling your eyes widen. He can't seem to get the words out, nor keep a straight face. 

“Out with it, Jimmy, before I lose my mind!” You scold, playfully pushing him. 

“Rosie got word to base!” 

“What?!” you shout, your arms going across your chest in shock. “W-where is he?” Tears fill your eyes and they escape before you're aware of what's happening. 

“He got shot down in Berlin,” Croz begins, his downturned eyes having an underlying sadness to them as he looks at you. “But, he managed to keep the plane flying until everyone had bailed out. He's in Russia.” 

“Russia? He's safe, right?”

“Yes, ma'am. He says they're taking really good care of him.” Harry laughs a little, wondering whether to divulge further information. You see that, and nod at him to carry on. “He says the vodka is impeccable.” Laughing, you feel familiar arms around your waist, Sally's head on your shoulder, half laughing, half crying as she hears the news. 

Word spreads to the rest of the pub, the airmen cheering and hugging at the news. James hands you a whiskey, then thrusting one in Croz's hand. You clink glasses with him, and with James before turning back to Harry.

“Thank you,” you begin, voice shaking slightly. “Thank you for coming to tell me, for even thinking of me.”

“No problem,” he replies nervously. “To Rosie?”

“To Rosie.”

---

thank you once again to my besties @sagesolsticewrites and @ginabaker1666 for reading this multiple times before posting (as usual!!!) <3

chapter 6

masterlist

[merrivia]

Will I ever get over the bond between Damen and Nikandros?

Never.

Warning: this is barely a meta and more just an outpouring of love.

This simile makes me weep. Nikandros is home to Damen, is feeling earthed and grounded and rooted to where he belongs.

The ‘ekthanos’. The ‘long walk’. The Akielon rituals of mourning. The result of what Kastor should never have done, by the brother Damen should have had.

The loyalty and the love here. No hesitation. This was so healing for Damen. I truly believe that Damen and Laurent could not have come together if Damen hadn’t been able to come back to himself. And so much of the latter is due to Nikandros.

That Nikandros is willing to risk his life like this just for the memory of Damen, to keep him alive in his mind. That he carried it on his person, a keepsake to remember Damen by always.

Nikandros doesn’t love Damen because he was the Crown Prince or is the King. He sees him for who he is and loves him for his unwavering goodness and unconditional love and loyalty, even if he knows it can make Damen blind to the truth. But equally, that’s why Damen loves him back. Nikandros gambles everything for Damen when he pledges himself to his cause.

Despite everything Damen has been through the one person who he can rely on never to hurt him is Nikandros. Even Laurent has hurt him in ways that Nikandros never would. Damen allows him to touch him and the pain Nikandros feels here, to know Damen was so grievously hurt.

I can't stress enough that Nikandros touching Damen is so meaningful here. It is, strictly speaking, a huge breach of etiquette to have unpinned Damen’s chiton, spun him around, touched his back. It’s out of pure shock and horror.

“Physically sick with the effort of repressing his anger”. Oh Nik.

Nikandros, who lost his father, wanted to honour him, and it wounds Damen that as the King, he has to take Ios from him. The fact their friendship survives this switch in status shows how strong it is.

He’s the only person he tells of Laurent’s plans, the only one worthy.

We also learn more of their past at the Kingsmeet:

That Damen felt a fierce pride in Nikandros' accomplishments; that he felt the loss of him so keenly.

This part always breaks my heart. When Damen returns from the Kingsmeet without Laurent and Jord goes for him:

The only who can recognises that Damen, big imposing warrior Damen, can feel pain, that he needs grounding with touch, that knows him- “…can’t you see—” he’s hurting…his heart is breaking.

And finally I love that he’s there and acknowledged in The Summer Palace, that he tried to protect Damen from Laurent in the aftermath of Ios as he didn't yet trust him:

And yet only some months later, he is teaching Laurent to wrestle, reconciled. Ignoring cute huffy Damen, Nikandros graduates to one of the few people in Laurent's inner circle and that is also lovely.

Damen having Nikandros is both a testament to how Damen, despite being the heir to the throne, treated like a god, was naturally grounded and loving, and why he remained so. True brotherhood and one of the best relationships in the whole book, a reminder of the power of your found family.

[dopscratch]

mugshot meme with the trio :) i love fishlegs which reminds me....

INCOMING BOOKS-MOVIES RAMBLE- even if you only know the movies please stick around, i cant make you but maybe you'll find the rest of this interesting

SO, so so so. i love the movies (well the first two...) but i will never forget their transgressions on the original plot

they took away hiccups Heroic Hair why would you do that he's nothing without his Heroic Hair

they swapped hiccup and fishlegs's personalities why would you do that why would you take away my nerd protagonist my nerd self is weeping

hiccup and fishlegs are no longer best friends why why would you do that to me i live for their loser friendship its just like me

they took away camacazi and made a mid love interest i dont care what you say astrid is mid tier never liked her much apologies i also dont like love interests so take my opinons with a grain of salt

in the movies toothless is actually Super Cool and hiccup also becomes Super Cool and earns massive respect and is not a laughingstock ever since the very first movie which hurt his appeal to me in the movies since, believe it or not, i am a Loser and hiccup also being a Loser and Becoming A Hero The Hard Way was very compelling to me

hiccup is the Absolute Main Character in the movies and the supporting characters don't get much spotlight while in the books it's a pretty well balanced group which i like

snotlout is no longer hiccups cousin and is just comic relief which is a HUGE missed opportunity for drama and depth that i loved in the books

villains in general are sort of mid tier throughout (except viggo viggo was cool. also i love dagur he's the best)

WHERE'S ALVIN

dragons are no longer complex. i loved their society of sorts and their unique morals (generally selfish, cruel creatures who have full knowledge of their actions and just don't care- though have the capacity for kindness) and their whole language and the fact hiccup knew that language because he is a Nerd

HICCUP'S LANGUAGES!! GUYS WHO ONLY WATCHED THE MOVIES, DID YOU KNOW HICCUP IS FLUENT IN AT LEAST 4 LANGUAGES?? HE KNOWS NORSE, DRAGONESE, FRENCH, AND LATIN!! WELL YOU DO NOW

HOOOOLY CRAP the story is SO much darker i'll avoid huge spoilers but let's just say. war. slavery. torture. death. surprisingly generous amounts of blood.

more main-line content- technically yes the shows and other companion materials count for the movie-verse but some things are questionably canon and all that. meanwhile you have 12 whole books that are irrefutably canon and are incredibly well-connected especially through the end.

thats everything that my brain feels like spitting out now. there's obviously more (ESPECIALLY in regards to my uh... opinions about the third movie) but im too lazy to do anything about it at the moment

overall all two movies and the shows are still good and i cherish them so my smack talking is pretty lighthearted. still love the books more though

[cosmerelists]

Top 10 Reasons that Kaladin is a Cat

I already argued that all Stormlight characters are cats. But while writing that list, I kept coming up with reasons why Kaladin specifically is a cat. One might argue that he is most feline of all Stormlight characters.

Which is exactly what I am about to do. So here’s why Kaladin is DEFINITELY a cat.

1. He likes to be high.

As I pointed out in my original list, Kaladin LOVES heights--just like cats do. He’s happiest when he can be taller than everyone else, high up in the sky.

2. He’s good at climbing.

Cats are very good climbers, and so is Kaladin! There are two scenes in which Kaladin must scale an impossibly vertical wall, which he does using Stormlight. Cats use their claws, but it’s basically the same.

3. He hates to be wet.

Kaladin is NOT fan of the rain. He may be pro-storm, but he hates the Weeping, during which a continuous drizzle makes everything wet and gray and sad. Cats also do not like being wet. As you know if you’ve ever had to wash one.

4. He hates to be locked up.

Cats do not like closed doors. If you dare to cut off their divine right of passing through any doorway, they will scream their displeasure. Kaladin is also not a fan of closed doors--like when he was locked up in prison for a while and found himself very unhappy in captivity. 

5. He once tore a piece of paper to shreds just to be an asshole.

Have you ever had a cat look at you directly in the eye as it knocks something beloved off of a shelf or scratches your couch or violently attacks the Steris pin you just got from your Cosmere box (that last one might just be me)? Well, this reminds me of when Kaladin was in the slave wagon, and the slave trader guy asked him to help with directions and handed him a map, and Kaladin just tore it to shreds. Very justifiable and cat-like behavior, if you ask me.

6. He is not impressed by you.

Cats are not impressed by kings, as the saying goes. And neither is Kaladin. In Book 2 when he found himself working for the Kholins, he spent his time being DEEPLY unimpressed, especially by Adolin. It was like Adolin had a cat-bodyguard.

7. He has self-healing abilities.

Cats use their purring to self-heal: apparently it helps them. Kaladin uses Stormlight, which is less cute. If only he purred instead.

8. He pretends not to be hurt.

It is very difficult to tell if a cat is injured--they’re good at pretending that they’re not. And even before he could just wave a hand to heal himself, Kaladin also had trouble admitting when he was too hurt to move around. I’m thinking especially about the end of Book 2 when he hobbles around while everyone else is marching to the center of the Shattered Plains, all the while thinking to himself that he probably shouldn’t be moving around. But he does anyway.

9. He is very graceful and tends to land on his feet

In fact, Kaladin likes to land in a straight-up hero pose.

10. He likes to pretend he’s solitary, but he needs friends.

Cats are supposedly solitary creatures, but if you’ve ever had a cat, you know they tend to want to be around you. Maybe they’re just chilling in the windowsill across the room, but they’re still hanging out. Cats in the wild sleep in a big pile. They’re actually more social than their reputation claims. And in a similar way, Kaladin tries to give off big solitary energy, but really, he does better when he’s around his friends, even if he’s just sulking at the table while Adolin and Shallan talk. 

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Reaction to episode 1 of season 2 of CME

Spoilers below the cut

The way the episode started with those cops that we don't know and then Emily's "I have" introducing her??? Amazing. Chills.

The way she just waltzed in and slowly and calmly detailed things about the killing that the cops didn't know yet was BEAUTIFUL

Penelope's birthday!!! (Still sad I didn't get to watch this yesterday ON my birthday, but whatever)

Ooh okay I thought that that snippet of Luke and Penelope was from BEFORE the start of the party but clearly it's after if everyone is already there

JJ and Tara being "mad" and Luke for whatever he just did and him being all cheeky and braggy WARMS MY HEART I MISSED THESE PEOPLE AND I LOVE THEM

"What is wrong with you?" "What is wrong with me? *gestures to Penelope* what about her?" I LOVE THEM

"I might have what I said tattooed to my body" "oh i dare you" "how dare you dare me?" the flirting is STRONG with these two

The banter!! The jokes!! I love this scene so much!!

QUEEF LESSONS??????? WHAT THE F U C K?

Penelope actually calling Luke by his name will never NOT make me smile

Oh no. A soft little moment with Penelope and Dave? I might cry

"This was good. You seem good." "I am. *kisses her cheek*" yep i'm crying

Tara and Penelope being concerned for their dad Rossi

Luke checking on his dad Rossi

Me 🤝 Penelope getting texts from our exes on our birthdays

"Put it away" I like how he's more direct with her now. Calls her out when she's wrong.

PENELOPE SHUT YOUR MOUTH WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT TO HIM

"I said I didn't wanna know, you were right the first time" yes luke stand your ground!

Luke looking SO ANNOYED when she asks him to dissect things with her JEALOUS LUKE MY BELOVED (if this were a romcom movie this would be where Luke just grabs her face and kisses her) (@lklvz i know what we're discussing at a later date)

"Oh god I'm doing it. Why am I doing that?" YES PENELOPE. STOP THAT LINE OF THINKING.

"I am moving on. Eyes on the prize." her saying that TO LUKE is driving me crazy. Yes, Penelope move on. Eyes on the prize. THE PRIZE IS RIGHT NEXT TO YOU.

Their eye contact and semi-wordless communication and everything ahhhhhhhh Garvez is so real

I wanted them to have a cute little moment where they reach for the same thing and their hands touch

Luke, from a different room: Put it away!! I LOVE THE WAY HE KNOWS HER???

Tara and JJ were there the entire time??????? they just let them be alone???? they're trying to jumpstart their ship with forced proximity

"You're HOT" JENNIFER JAREAU?????? The Jara shippers are going feral and the Jemily shippers are unsure about whether to cry or cheer, and my Temily self is weeping

"A hot mess is the term that you are searching for." Tara Lewis I am in love with you.

Tara talking about her gf 🥰 (Emily)

"Definitely not a book" i am GAGGED

Emily texting Tara "12:30. My office." Temily is real.

"we need to talk" emily i think the word you're looking for is make out

Is "we need to talk" temily code for "lets go smoke on the roof???" love that

Tara and Emily teaming up, Tara being the only person to know what's up with Emily, all of this is so good for my heart.

PAWS OFF THEIR CASES, REBECCA

how did rebecca's hair change that much in "two weeks" lol

oh she just handed off the file to Voit. Lovely. Not that I'm surprised.

"good book, I hope" HE WILL NOT LET IT GO

PHIL COULSONNNN

Elias showing off his acting skills. He is good.

"What the hell is Gold Star?" Luke I am hoping you're lying

Temily pitching a case like the wives they are

Rossi THROWING A GLASS AT A WALL

REBECCA. GO. AWAY.

Rebecca Wilson you are one of the worst people i have ever met

Rossi and Emily fighting feels so weird to me

Bertoli's wife being killed to punish him and hurt him through survivor's guilt reminds me of Luke and Phil

aaaand bertoli shot himself. can't say i'm surprised.

LUKE BEING SMART AND KNOWING THINGS AND GETTING ANSWERS LIKE THE BEST BOY HE IS (and Penelope being low-key impressed)

it was LUKE'S idea to get Tyler's help????

Emily asking if Penelope has any objections and then Penelope LOOKING AT LUKE

why do i have a weird get feeling i'm gonna like tyler this season. or maybe at least just hate him less.

Penelope not that you should be trying to impress tyler, but if you ask Luke if you look good, well, yes is the answer.

"my cats are my boyfriend" something tells me Penelope listens to "Karma" by Taylor Swift

Luke's overly fake voice greeting tyler I LOVE HIM

Luke baby i know you hate the mans guts but YOU INVITED HIM IN (this scene is hilarious tho)

*to penelope* "I'm happy to see you again." *to luke* "you, not so much" I'M CACKLING

"What, me? Oh you are missing out." I LOVE HIM THIS IS GONNA BE SO GOOD

Her thanking Luke for sticking up in that conversation. Garvez. Is. So. Real.

Rebecca is so hot and cold with Tara I hate it.

JJ you know all about being forced to confess something while being held against your will, don't you

the way Garvez are being put together in EVERY. SCENE.

Yes Penelope! Yell at him!

EMILY SAYING FUCK

Putting Tyler and Luke side by side in a frame only makes me more sure that they're making them similar on purpose. Almost the same outfit, badge in the same spot, similar hair style and facial features

"Who wants first crack at him? *points at Tyler* and not you." the comedy is back and i am loving it

[sad-ghost-of-garbage]

Biting Paul pt 2

Author: SadGhostofGarbage

Paul x G/N reader, Paul x David

Warnings: Talking about Sex, insecurities. Mostly fluffy. Hurt, comfort?

It had been weeks since you’d bitten Paul, and he was desperate to have you do it again. However nothing he did annoyed you enough to the point of nipping his flesh again. Recalling the memory had Paul whimpering a bit under his breath, he needed you to do it again.

“Dude, just ask them to bite you.” David said from his seat on the old wheelchair, where he was trying to read his book. Paul made a face at his brother and shook his head,

“I can’t do that, man.” Sighing the head vampire puts his book down in his lap to focus on his troubled brother.

“Why not?” Paul shifts around on his spot, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“I- I just can’t man, okay?” There was a tinge of red on Paul's face, a small reminder of just how young of a vampire Paul was, a remnant of his human life that would fade with the passing years. Paul’s blush gave David pause,

“Are… Are you embarrassed?” Paul scoffs in denial but turns his head to hide his face.

“What are you kidding me, no way man!” David wanted to tease his brother, Paul being embarrassed about his kink? No way, it was unheard of. But he could feel just how upset Paul was so he held it in, opting to try to calm the nervous blonde.

“Paul, you’ve never been embarrassed of admitting what you like, why are you ashamed of this?” Paul puts his head in his hands, and when he looks back over to his brother David could see there were tears in his eyes. 

“It’s just different David.”

“What’s different Paulie? You aren’t afraid to tell us what you like-,” 

“Yeah because it’s you guys, I can tell you guys what I want. It’s different with them.” Paul interrupts.

“Why can’t you tell them what you want Paulie? Are they not okay with you being explorative?” David raises his eyebrow in question. David liked you; he had delved deep through your brain the minute he had felt Paul’s feelings for you, he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to hurt his baby bat. You had passed his judgment (or you wouldn’t be alive) so he couldn’t quite understand his brother's hesitancy of telling you. Paul shakes his head,

“No no no, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?��� Paul takes a deep breath (that he doesn’t need) and looks to his companion.

“I… I… I don’t want to scare them away.” It’s said in such a small way that David was not used to hearing from his brother. “I can tell you guys what I want because I mean… It’s you. You chose me, you guys are my pack, all of you love me. A-and I want them to love me too, but I’m just so afraid I’m going to do something wrong David. I don’t want to lose them because I’m too horny and weird.” Tears were flowing down the blonde’s face freely now.  Moving out of his chair, David made his way over to the weeping vampire. Cupping Paul's face in his hands he began wiping Paul's tears away.

“Hey now Paulie, no need to cry. You’re right about one thing, that being, we love you. However y/n is your partner, they love you too. And they aren’t going to leave you over wanting to try something out. But you have to be honest with them and tell them what you want just like you would tell us.”

“B-but what if-” David shushes Paul and gives him a stern yet soft look.

“No, no what if’s. Chances are y/n is just oblivious and didn’t notice you trying to get attention. And they can’t read minds like I can silly boy, how are they to know what you want if you don’t tell them.” Siffling with a pout on his lips Paul pauses to think about what his sire had said. 

“I- I mean you are kinda right, I guess.” David smirks and lets out a chuckle,

“Of course I’m right, have I ever been wrong?” 

“No.” David’s smirk gets bigger and he gives Paul a kiss on the forehead, and makes his way back to his previous place on the wheelchair.

It had been weeks since you’d bitten Paul, and he was desperate to have you do it again. But after a reassuring talk with David he was ready to just tell you what he wanted.

Weeks had passed since you’d bitten Paul, and he was acting strange. The little plot you had cooked up to get Paul to stop biting you in public, had backfired… tremendously. It seemed that your little stunt had the exact opposite effect that it was meant to have. Any chance he got, it seemed that Paul would nip at you purposefully, or put his arms directly in front of your face. He even went as far as covering your mouth mid sentence. Hell, he seemed to generally just be a bigger nuisance than usual. Now you loved Paul, with all your heart but you just couldn’t understand why he was acting up, not to mention how much hornier he seemed. If he wasn’t irritating you with his out of character behavior, he was fucking your brains out. This would be great, if you didn’t feel like Paul was left unsatisfied. He came, no question about that; you just couldn’t help but think that he was hiding something. And you were going to confront him about it.  So when Paul asked you to hang out in the cave with him you didn’t hesitate to say yes. Paul leads you into the cave, past the other boys heading out for the night. You waved at them as Paul pulled you deeper through the halls to where his room was. You sat on the bed (that was only ever used when you were around) and went to speak your mind but Paul had the same idea.

“Paul we should talk-“

“Hey sugar, there’s something I’ve been-“ both of you stop and look at each other with wide eyes. Paul was terrified. He fucked up he knew it, you thought he was gross and you were going to leave him. Sensing his panic from the look on his face, you get up and grab his hands in yours. 

“Hey it’s nothing bad Paul.” ( At least you really hoped he wasn’t hiding something bad.)

“Oh, okay?” He didn’t sound convinced as he asked quietly, “you’re not going to leave me are you?” This shocked you, you pulled him to the bed and made him sit.

“What? No! Paul, why would you think that?” Sitting next to him, your hands never letting go of his.

“Because you think I’m too weird and horny?” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What Paul no! I love you! That’s who you are, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.” He looked  partially relieved. “Okay Paulie what did you want to tell me?”

“No babe you go first, I’m still a bit nervous. I want to hear you first.” He was fidgeting with your fingers but made no move to pull away.

“I just wanted to know what was going on with you pretty boy? You’ve been acting strange, and it feels like you’re not satisfied with me?” Suddenly Paul was smiling, David was right, you were just unaware of his hints. He was relieved you weren’t upset with him but this meant he had to confess his secret.

“So uh…” Paul moves a hand to his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle. “Hey babe? If I told you I wanted you to bite me, what would you do?”

“What do you mean Paul?”

“Like I got really turned on when you bit me the other day and… fuck baby, I really want you to do it again.” Getting lost in his anxieties he tries to backtrack “I- I mean only if you want to, I don’t want to make you if you don’t want to.” You cut him off by pulling him into a kiss. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth you give it a tug as you pull away.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Grinning like a mad man Paul lays down pulling you on top of him.

Tagging : @britany1997​ 

[lilycolbertsstuff]

I just finished the Addicted/Calloway sisters series and I’m positively weeping.

While reading these books I really felt like I was going through a journey with all those characters and I couldn’t be more grateful for that because they taught me so much.

I will truly never forget the way they made me feel and how I learned to accept, love and care for the core six as if they were my friends. I’ve never experienced characters feeling so raw and real and that’s what makes these novels special. What they went through in terms of personal growth and emotional turmoil feels like something that any of us could live through in our lifetimes.

These are the kind of books that remind me why I love reading. We bottle up so much of our feelings to appease society’s standards that sometimes it feels like we’re becoming robots, so it’s nice to have a reminder that it’s ok to feel all sorts of emotions whenever and wherever we feel them and if someone tells us otherwise we bring out our inner Rose Calloway Cobalt.

Ultimately the most important value that these books want to transmit to the readers is that we should never be afraid to love and be loved because without this blazing force that drives human beings we would just be hollow shells.

Round of thanks:

- Lily, thank you for showing me that anything is possible if we learn to accept the help of the people around us. Thank you for showing me that being shy is not a weakness. It’s ok to struggle, it’s ok to take it slow and it’s ok to fall down on our path to happiness but in the end we will make it and we will be deserving of it. There’s no right definition of strength and I’ll make sure to remind myself of that.

- Lo, thank you for showing me that the people who struggle in their early years are not doomed to a future of failure and despair. I struggle with my insecurities just like Lo did, feeling inferior, stupid, worthless but watching him evolve and become the amazing person he is moves me to strive and work on myself to become someone I will be able to say I am proud of in the future.

- Rose, thank you for reinforcing in me the fact that love is the most powerful force in the world. You are a blazing fire that is not afraid to drop everything and put herself on the line for the people she loves, I aspire to be as courageous as she is one day. She is a feminist and is never afraid to put out her ideas into the world and confront with her head held high all the men who would even try to doubt her. She loves fiercely and without any restraints and I think that’s what we should all live our lives like. I think the greatest lesson she has taught me is that you should always be true to yourself and never try to change your personality just so you might be appreciated more by others, for the people who cherish you accept you for who you are to your core with all your vices and virtues.

- Connor, I’ve loved your character ever since your first appearance, thank you for taking us along your journey of learning to accept love into your life. I know it’s hard, especially if you’ve never felt something as strong as that but in the end, even though there might be heartache along the way, it is all worth it. His open mindedness helped me get more comfortable in my sexuality and I will never be more thankful to him for that.

- Daisy, I want to thank you because watching you go on your journey of finding your own voice and learning to speak your mind without being afraid of other people’s judgement. We can’t always pretend to be ok with what other people tell us to do and that’s completely fine because in the end expressing what we think and want in a respectful way will help define our own path.

- Ryke, I wish I were as selfless as you are. Your compassion and will to do good and help the people in need are qualities that not many people have. I think of Ryke as a lighthouse, always there to show the right way to the people who may have lost their own light. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Having said so, I will for sure revisit these books in the future because these characters feel like family now and to me family comes first.

Until next time 🪷🌹🌼

Ps. Poppy Calloway I wish we could’ve seen more of you.

[abby118]

Watching the Loki series is like watching an endless gag reel. It's so bad it's surreal. Loki doesn't feel like Loki. That's not Loki. It's like we're watching Tom Hiddleston just flail and flop around in a bad suit. He reminds me, (and someone else also pointed this out, I can't remember who), of the Edgar suit in Men In Black. And I can't help but wonder if that was a conscious decision Tom made, to act like a possessed, reanimated corpse? We'll never know, of course, but every time I see video clips and gifs, I just see the Edgar suit and if it wasn't so laughable, I could cry.

I completely agree. I couldn't even get through season 1 tbh. And I'd thought ragnarok was bad and out of character...

My advice would be to avoid it completely. I've got the tags blocked, I don't look at the new content and just stick to the original. It truly makes me so sad for the entire fandom, to see such complex and deeply interesting character destroyed and stripped of his very essence. I've been a fan of Loki and the characters from the Thor movies since 2011 and hyperfixated big time. I won't let some disney bullshit ruin that. It helped me through the hardest times of my life and I see parts of myself in the personalities of the characters, having grown up with it being a safe place. It even inspired me to find interest in the norse mythology despite it being so different. I read numerous books and studies on it and I feel like you can catch little glimpses of it in the original franchise.

Sadly, it feels like Tom is so out of touch with who he is supposed to be portraying. I hope this is the result of a contract and not entirely his own input. Although, I'm worried that might be my wishful thinking.

I was studying the soundtrack of Thor 2 the other day and how much thought went into it and it made me weep internally. Brian Tyler studied the characters' personalities and brought that into what he crafted. It was full of care. He even named one track Lokasenna, which if you don't know, is the name of a poem belonging to the poetic Edda and is about the conflict between Loki and the Aesir (asgardians). I also love how the og Thor franchise had the recurrent theme of light & shadow. Returning back to the brian tyler vid- the theme he was talking about is named Shadows of Loki.

Now, compare it with what we got in the last years (sth that feels like a very badly written fanfic). That is just a single example.

For me, the ending of Thor 2 is the end of canon and I am writing my very extensive continuation. It's the best ending we could have gotten in terms of fanwork because it's an open ending. A still in-character-ending.

The series feels wrong, it feels like utter mockery and I'm not here for it. With that said, my blog is a safe space for everyone who feels like this or gets bullied by the new "fanbase" (yes that happens)

Thank you so much for sharing your opinion, I appreciate it more than you know 🖤💚

[vickyvicarious]

(In order to not derail op's thread, and jic they've not finished reading the books, hope this is ok) The madness/mental illness discussion between Laura and Jonathan made me think about the in-between of Jonathan leaving the hospital and then being validated!

One thing is, pre-Hawkins death, Mina states to Lucy that Jonathan has been working hard, but that he is weak still and placid, and also that he has nightmares. It tells on them both, because Mina cannot get a full night's sleep due to him waking up screaming and she needs to soothe him. Journal aside, Mina says she is so worried about his nerves that she doesn't communicate with him about how tired she is herself. It reminds me of Walter wanting to protect Laura from distress.

Post-Hawkins death, Jonathan gets worse. "He says the amount of responsibility which it puts upon him makes him nervous. He begins to doubt himself. I try to cheer him up, and my belief in him helps him to have a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his—a nature which enabled him by our dear, good friend’s aid to rise from clerk to master in a few years—should be so injured that the very essence of its strength is gone."

Not a very traditionally ''manful'' picture, but Mina never goes there. Still, he throws himself into work. Mina says her belief in him helps Jonathan believe in himself. Maybe Laura would have benefited from being believed in.

What prompts Walter to do something drastic is when Laura weeps in her sleep. What prompts Mina to break the seal later is when Jonathan faints in public and loses the memory of it.

The way Mina treats Lucy and Jonathan in illness seems equal. She keeps their secrets upon their request too. Walter and Mina take similar active roles for their spouses, though Mina isn't necessarily masculine for it.

An interesting imho comparison could also be when Mina chooses to consult Van Helsing while Jonathan is away for his first work trip and how they communicate throughout it, and Walter with the sisters.

Aside, when she asks Van Helsing to help Jonathan, he says, "I promise you that I will gladly do all for him that I can—all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy one." Van Helsing promises to make his life manly, though Mina had asked to make him "well again". So he kind of made it about gender, though it wasn't for Mina.

(I also wonder if we can call Jonathan ''cured'' really, as he doesn't actually return to his former self, but it'd get too long!)

(Tagging @animate-mush because the WIW substack has ended now, hopefully you're all caught up... but regardless no spoilers past where we were last week.)

Anon, you sum up my thoughts incredibly well: "Maybe Laura would have benefited from being believed in."

I think that is perhaps the most major difference between the recovery period for the two of them. Because while they both have remarkably similar symptoms, and both their spouses hide stuff from them for a while... when things come to a head Mina chooses to believe in Jonathan. Not just in supporting him as he goes back to work (which you're right, he has little choice about doing - an external gendered element there, where societal pressures/norms mean Jonathan kind of has to get to work and Laura is never expected to at all); Mina trusts Jonathan with information, with an important role in what follows.

There's obvious contextual differences. Jonathan knew he could access his lost memories and explicitly didn't want to unless it was necessary. He put the power to decide that in Mina's hands (and it was his request but still her choice to share in his ignorance until she needed more information). When she reads his journal, she's trying to better help him within parameters they have both agreed to. When she eventually tells him everything is true, she's trusting that this will be validating for him and help him heal, help him be more "well again" (though you're right both that he never returns to his former self, and that Van Helsing is the only one who brings gender into it with his assumption that Mina's looking to make Jonathan more manly).

Laura never had an equivalent - both in terms of a discussion with the ones leaving her out for the sake of her mental health, and in the sense of some record she knows she can fall back on. She didn't have a hidden journal when she was being drugged or in the asylum. Most of the information Walter and Marian gather is from other people.

I think there is a period where both Jonathan and Laura have information hidden from them for their own sake. And I don't think that was inherently wrong or anything; in fact I think it was somewhat needed. Jonathan got the chance to explicitly ask for that period of ignorance. We don't quite have any such dialogue from Laura, but the narration still tells us that there were certain topics that were very confusing to her or which she didn't like to linger on (and her experience with Mr. Fairlie even after getting out of the asylum can't have helped), and there's that scene where she says she will "try to get better", showing recognition of how unwell she currently is. I think they both need this time to focus on recovering, and their spouses/loved ones want to support them so they can do so. Again, the societal gender role divides them here: Jonathan has to work and in fact has to take on new/more challenging work, while Laura doesn't and can devote more time to rest and recovery. There's benefits and drawbacks to both of those, in my mind. Jonathan got support from Mina and reassurance that she (and Mr. Hawkins) believed in him, which was helpful. On the other hand, it stressed him out more and he was still suffering from his nightmares, etc. Laura got more time to take it easy without having other stress added on, which was helpful. But on the other hand, she didn't get the same level of trust and belief in her ability to, if not 'return to normal,' at least to be productive and helpful in some way.

Yeah, I'm talking about her drawings. I think that is where the big divide comes. Because when she wants to contribute and help with the household, Walter decides to lie to her and play-act that she is bringing in money. I get that he's trying to avoid letting her stress over money, but it feels so condescending. He's treating her like a child rather than being honest with her - right after she asks him not to treat her like a child. Maybe being honest would just be telling her that she's not well enough to work/that it wouldn't be safe, and that he has the money handled. Maybe they'd come up with some other way she could chip in. At least she'd be involved in the discussion as she clearly wanted to be. And while I don't think she would be involved in the hunting down different accounts or confrontations that follow at the end of the book any more than Marian was, I think they should have told her what was going on. That doesn't necessarily mean giving her all the nitty gritties especially if they're triggering to her; but giving her the chance to speak for herself, to add her thoughts, even to ask to be left out if she thinks she can't handle it. She never gets that. There's no reevaluation later on.

Both Jonathan and Laura were denied validation in a way that made them doubt their sanity. Jonathan's experiences were supernatural and he fears he lost his mind. Laura was lied to and gaslit about her own identity, outright told she was suffering from delusions. Revealing that the supernatural things he remember are real was validating for Jonathan in itself, even as he still had all the accompanying trauma. Laura's (official/public) validation isn't possible until after the villains are defeated and everything is over, which in a sense stretches out that middle period. Similarly, Jonathan getting the information leads right into him getting a change to assuage his feelings of guilt and seek revenge, which could be cathartic for him. Laura probably wouldn't have the same opportunities or even desire to do so, and so maybe looping her in wouldn't have been as helpful. But it feels cruel to me never to give her the option. After a certain point, it's no longer just trying to spare her from distress, but it feels like believing she isn't capable of handling any at all.

I guess that's what feels most gendered to me. Walter, and to an extent Marian too, don't treat Laura like an adult or an equal after her experience. This does happen throughout the book, but it gets so much more egregious after she's rescued from the asylum. Marian talks about women/is kind of treated like an exception to women in general, and Walter is leaving both women out in key moments. So given how women were typically seen as less capable, to me it feels somewhat bound up in that rather than just being about her specifically (I think she handles/is capable of a lot more than she's given credit for). Mina doesn't do really that, she doesn't really bring gender into her treatment of either Jonathan or Lucy in the same way. And while others in Dracula do, it's shown to be more of a mistake.

[it-was-written-in-the-stars]

♡Dorian Havilliard x reader♡

♡ a song for those who weep ♡

Chapter three ○●○

Warning(s) -> mild spoilers for throne of glass and crown of midnight by SJM, a dash of angst

Word count -> 1087

A/N -> I am so terribly sorry for how long it took me to write this chapter :')

[The characters featured in this story do not belong to me]

♡♡♡

The world hated you. Of that you were certain as you hurtled down the staircase, heedless of Dorian's cry of protest. He loved her, not you. Why hadn't you noticed it? Why had you been so foolish?

Your vision was blurred by a cloak of tears as you barrelled through the corridor. You needed to get out of here. You couldn't breathe.

You had seen the way he looked at her, his gaze filled with such awe. Why had you thought it meant nothing? Why had you clung so pathetically to that infinitesimal flicker of hope? Hope was what had ruined you. It lured you in, the act resembling the attraction which pulls a moth to a blaze of fire.

You stepped over the threshold, darting into the Palace gardens. The night air kissed your skin, grazing your tear stained face with the grace of a lover. The single, delicate caress you had desperately needed. Little droplets rained down onto the luxuriant landscape. The sky wept with you, its sorrow seeping into the soil.

You stood there, watching the scene blossom around you. The trickle of rain softly colliding with the ground, the gentle sway of trees, the rustle of leaves. These sounds crashed down on you, arresting as they were, joining together in this alluring symphony.

You breathed in the crisp, cold air accented with lavender. It was there that you swore to never let love provoke a tear out of you.

You loosed a breath, pivoting on your heel and retreating back into the delicious warmth the Palace provided. Turning your back on the love which you buried deep within the grounds of the gardens.

♡♡♡

"She watched him dance with the girl carved from sunlight," you read out. "Her heart ached, a deep, painful throb which threatened to rip her apart".

You paused to catch a glimpse of Dorian who sat across from you. An odd look had befallen his face, as though he could relate with the protagonist. You also seemed to notice how the soft light of the candelabra caressed his features, accentuating the sharp curve of his jaw. Heat rose to your face at how swiftly you had betrayed yourself. Love was not written for you.

"I know that I am quite the sight but don't drool all over the pages" Dorian drawled, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Gods. Why was he making this so difficult!?

You scoffed, rolling your eyes before opting to return to reading and ignore how hot he wa- your face was.

"The two of them were locked in a dance of great fervor. Elation coursed through his veins, lighting up his face. He was happy," you continued, suddenly tossed back into the ballroom- the sight of Dorian and Celaena clasped in each other's arms. You shook the thought away. "And despite how badly it hurt her, Aurelia turned on her heel and left- aaand that's the end of that chapter" you say, inserting a bookmark and closing the book.

"Gods I didn't remember this book being this- upsetting" Dorian mused, that off putting gleam returning to his eyes.

"At least we already know that the ending is jubilant" you pointed out, rising to deposit the book on the nearest stand. Dorian hummed in response, a single drawn out note.

"I was- uh- meaning to ask you this earlier but- is everything alright?" He asked, blanketing you with his attention.

You turn back to face him, your eyebrows flicking upwards. "Yes- of course".

"Why did you run away- when you saw me yesterday?" He pressed, patently not satisfied with your response. Your face heated at the reminder of how poorly you had handled the situation.

"I- . . . forgot that Celaena asked me to take care of Fleetfoot- afterall he is just a pup and I- left him.. in my chambers" you internally cringed at how bad of a lie you let slip past your lips. You certainly hadn't convinced Dorian, for he looked just as perplexed.

"Y/n- I can tell that something is bothering you" Dorian said, watching you settle back down into your seat.

Your gaze met his. What beautiful a shade his eyes possessed.

You turned abruptly, clearing your throat. "I assure you that everything is absolutely perfect- ideal- now if you will excuse me I- need to go return Fleetfoot to Celaena before she-"

"Oh, there you are"

You felt your heart drop at the sound of her voice.

Low and behold, Celaena had sauntered into your little corner, the young pup curled up in her arms.

Dorian quirked a brow.

"Celaena, what a surprise- oh and you found Fleetfoot!" You chirped. The two of them exchanged a puzzled look.

The golden haired girl released a breath. "I sure did, thanks for your help". You took a mental note to thank her later as you bid your farewells and swiftly slipped out of the library.

Just yesterday you had told yourself that you would not let love steer you. Yet here you were. Making a complete fool of yourself. Again.

But how could you tell him? 'Oh sorry- you see, I actually ran away because I have been in love with you since we were children and when I saw you kissing Celaena it broke my heart and silly old me lacked the courage to do anything about it so instead I ran away from all of my problems'. Like always.

"Oh, hello Y/n," a voice from somewhere to your left rumbled. "Have you seen Celaena?".

You peered over your shoulder to find Chaol waiting expectantly for your response. His face was flushed, a bouquet of red roses clasped in his hands.

"She's just in there-.. if you don't mind me asking, who are those for?" You reply, eyeing the flowers. If only your life was blessed with such vibrancy.

Chaol followed your gaze, his eyebrows pulled together. "Oh uh these are for Celaena" he replied, slightly flustered.

You blink. Once. Twice.

"Celaena?" You echo, your head tilting to the side. "Is it her birthday?"

"No.."

"Oh... why are you- giving them to her?" You ask, confused by the occurrence. Why was he giving her flowers when her boyfriend was with her?

"We are.. together" Chaol replied, his eyebrows shooting skyward at your visible perplexion.

"But she's with... she's no longer dating Dorian?" You ask, your heart beating wildly in your chest. None of this made any sense.

"No- they broke it off a few weeks after you left" Chaol said, shuffling his feet awkwardly under your scrutiny.

"What?"

[mountingpulisic]

theories that explain why we fall out of love (christian p.)

summary : when a book reminds you of your ex, the only knowledgeable thing would be leaving them a voicemail, right?

word count : 641

“i was reading this interesting book the other day, it’s called theories on why we fall out of love. strangely enough it made me think of you, of us actually.” 

you don’t know why you had called him, he had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with you last time y'all spoke. 

“there was just this one theory, this one th-” your sentence had died off as you dryly laughed, he was properly going to delete this voicemail without even giving it a proper listen.

it was evident that you were wasting your time, but the words still spilled off your tongue. 

“it’s actually quite a few theories that made me think of you, quite a few theories that made me think of me actually.” you confess, huffing out a breath as you comb your fingers through your hair. 

“one theory was because of fear.”

you had settled into a chair overlooking the streets of london, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you flipped through the book you were holding that was resting on your thigh.

you had disagreed with the title of the novel, you felt like it should've been theories explain why people are scared to fall in love, not out of.

“i was scared, christian. i am scared.” you emphasis. the tremble in your voice was noticeable, swallowing the lump in your throat deemed to be harder than you thought. 

walking away was harder than you thought.

everything had been harder than you thought. 

“next theory, because she didn’t think she deserved him.” you had paused again, extending the phone away from your mouth as you let out a shaky breath. “i didn’t deserve you, you didn’t deserve what i put you through. if i would’ve known going to dinner that night would’ve ended up with you on one knee and me walking away, i would’ve suggested ordering take out.” you tried making light of the situation, despite knowing christian wouldn't be laughing in the slightest.

you would never forget how his smile dropped when you whispered the word no, how quick he had gotten off his knee and returned to his seat at the table.

he had just confessed his undying love for you, how it would make him the happiest man alive if you would say yes. 

but you didn’t. 

fumbling over your words trying to explain your answer, trying to put into words how you weren’t ready for such a commitment, that you needed to love yourself before you could properly love him, love him in the way that he deserved.

“because the clock struck midnight.” 

fairytales didn’t always have happy endings, you witnessed that firsthand. 

for cinderella, even though the clock struck midnight and she turned back to normal, she was still able to get her prince charming, still able to get the ending she deserved. 

you on the other hand, hadn’t. 

you didn't deserve a happy ending, not after what you did.

when the clock struck midnight for you, you found yourself weeping on the bathroom floor, clenching your chest as the tears ran steadily down your cheeks, wallowing in self-pity over a three-year relationship you had ended.  

“lastly, because we still have hope that they will love again.” 

swallowing the lump in your throat, you ended the call. placing the phone beside you on the table, you tried to steady your breathing. 

that had been a stupid idea, to leave a voice message on theories that explain why we fall out of love. for some sick deranged reason, you hoped christian hated you, you hoped he had fallen out of love with you the second you answered his proposal. 

however unknown to you, only a few miles away, christian had stood over his answering machine, listening to every word you had said. 

only funny thing being, he hadn’t fallen out of love and he wished you hadn’t either.

part two