#this poem absolutely destroys me

[queenlucythevaliant]

Time to share another of my favorite Christian poems with you all. It’s a martyrdom poem by Varlam Shalamov, a victim of the Soviet gulags and also the writer of Kolyma Tales. A few favorite stanza are written out here; the entire poem is typed out below. It’s a little on the long end, but entirely worth it. 

“Avvakum in Pustozyorsk” by Varlam Shalamov

The walls of my church

  are the ribs of my heart;

it seems life and I

  are soon bound to part

 .

My cross now rises,

  traced with two fingers.

In Pustozyorsk it blazes;

  its blaze will linger.

 .

I’m glorified everywhere,

  vilified, branded;

I have already become

  the stuff of legend.  

 .

I was, people say,

  full of anger and spite;

I suffered, I died

  for the ancient rite.

 .

But this popular verdict

  is ugly nonsense;

I hear and reject

  the implied censure.

 .

The rite is nothing—

  neither wrong nor right;

a rite is a trifle

  in God’s sight.

 .

But they attacked our faith

  in the ways of the past,

in all we’d learned as children

  and taken to heart.

 .

In their holy garments,

  in their grand hats,

with a cold crucifix

  in their cold hands,

 .

in thrall to a terror

  clutching their souls,

they drag us to jails

  and herd us to scaffolds.

 .

We don’t mind about the doctrine

  books and their age;

we don’t debate virtues

  of fetters and chains.

 .

Our dispute is of freedom,

  and the right to breathe—

about the Lord’s will

  to bind as he please.

 .

The healers of souls

  chastised our bodies;

while they schemed and plotted,

  we ran to the forests.

 .

Despite their decrees,

   we hurled our words

out of the lion’s mouth

  and into the world.

 .

We called for just vengeance

  against their sins;

along with the Lord,

   we sang poems and hymns.

 .

The words of the Lord

  were claps of thunder.

The Church endures;

   it will never go under.

 .

And I, unyielding,

  reading the Psalter,

was brought to the gates

  of the Andronikov Monastery.

 .

I was young;

  I endured every pain:

hunger, beatings,

  interrogations.

 .

A winged angel

  shut the eyes of the guard,

brought me cabbage soup,

  and a hunk of bread.

 .

I crossed the threshold—

  and I walked free.

Embracing my Exile,

  I walked to the east.

 .

I held services

   by the Amur River,

where I barely survived

  the winds and blizzards.

 .

They branded my cheeks

  with brands of frost;

by a mountain stream

  they tore out my nostrils.

 .

But the path to the Lord

  goes from jail to jail;

the path to the Lord

  never changes.

 .

And all too few,

  since Jesus’s days,

have proved able to bear

  God’s all-seeing gaze.

 .

Nastasia, Nastasia,

  do not despair;

true joy often wears

  a garment of tears.

 .

Whatever temptations

  may beat in your heart,

whatever torments

  may rip you apart,

 .

walk on in peace,

  through a thousand troubles

and fear not the serpent

  that bites at your ankles—

 .

though not from Eden

  has this snake crawled;

it is an envoy of evil

  from Satan’s hand.

 .

Here, birdsong

  is unknown;

here one learns the patience

  and the wisdom of stone.

 .

I have seen no color

  except lingonberry

in fourteen years

  spent as a prisoner.

 .

But this is not madness,

  nor a waking nightmare;

it is my soul’s fortress,

  its will and freedom.

 .

And now they are leading me

  far away in fetters;

my yoke is easy

  and my burden grows lighter.

 .

My track is swept clean

  and dusted with silver;

I’m climbing to heaven

  on wings of fire.

 .

Through cold and hunger,

  through grief and fear

towards God, like a dove,

  I will rise from the pyre.

 .

O far-away Russia—

  I give you my vow

to return to the sky

  forgiving my foe.

 .

May I be reviled,

  and burned at the stake;

may my ashes be cast

  on the mountain wind.

 .

There is no fate sweeter,

  no better end,

than to knock, as ash,

  at the door of the human heart.

[kristsune]

So when “miles to go before I sleep” was first mentioned, I recognized it immediately. Had no idea just how important that reference would become.

Spoilers through Part 26: Bedrock.

[destinedtobeloved]

Little quotes n poems from tiktok slideshows that made me think of Kovacs :)

(Why I think so in the lil note things on each image)

[uraniumbones]

For those of you keeping up with the book of Bill and it's accompanying website and the bill cypher backstory. THE PARALLELS GOT ME FUCKED UP.

Spoilers incoming.

people love to talk about the dynamic between Stanford and Bill. Sure, interesting. But you know what people aren't talking about? Stanley and Bill. Specifically referencing the website (thisisnotawebsotedotcom.com)

If you input Stanley a bunch it will eventually open a new document instead of eBay pages. The page mocks Stanley and reveals his secrets or whatever. One of the clickable options on this page is "HOW HE BEAT ME". Each time you click into this is an increasingly deranged meltdown about how it shouldn't have been possible. Calling him a "cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness" among other things. And when further pressed accuses you of acting like "those PREACHY INFANTILIZING AUTOMOTONS AT THE THERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my "FEELINGS"." After that he spirals further eventually talking about "how much pain I'm in" and only in code admitting "I can still see through the eyes of everyone I've ever..." presumably killed.

If you don't know shit about Euclydia read the wiki page on it, it's not long. tldr Euclydia is bills home dimension, which he destroyed and killed every single inhabitant of in blood and fire. He did so (accidentally?) in an attempt to show them the third dimension which (because of a genetic mutation) only he had the ability to see (with his eye). Please also note when Stanford asks about his home dimension Bill says it was"destroyed by a monster".

In the website's many documents it repeatedly makes reference to Bill's parents and how much they loved him, his home, his childhood (he wore velcro sneakers it's actually incredibly cute), the ways in which he was different and not easily accepted.

Now knowing all these things. A pattern may emerge to you. Are you seeing it? Are you seeing the patterns yet?

Obviously Bill hates Stanley because he's stupid and still he somehow beat Bill. That's annoying, maddening even. But I believe it goes beyond that. He hates him all the more passionately because Stanley reminds him of himself. The poem at the end of the Stanley password on the website summarizes it best "always dragged his family down / One mistake, disowned, denied, / only thing to do was hide." Destruction of his own family, running and hiding from his own mistakes. "Reinvent, retry, reload" trying again in a new life. "When your actions make it worse, / When they see you as a curse," Making things worse where you have tried to make them better. "Give the wheel one last spin, / Take your chips and go all in" this is what weirdmagedon was for both of them. and this is where their lives differ "And lucky stan- the rolls on black, / he got his life and family back. / His big break it finally came, / Redemption from a life of shame." AND THERE IT IS. Stanley got his family back. Bill didn't. (Which is what it seems he was attempting). Stanley got his redemption. Bill didn't.

Stanley was a lonely kid fuck up just like Bill was. And he absolutely hates Stanley's guts for it because he hates his own guts for it. And all this time they're the same, just trying to fix those mistakes, to have their family back again, to be loved again. They both have this facade of untouchable aloof levity, the same insults Bill hurls at Stanley may as well be hurled at himself. "Protected from his failure only by a force field of denial and shamelessness"? "Cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child"? You can see Bill goes from being outraged and insulting Stanley, to denying a deeper meaning to those feelings (and calling you a therapist), to talking about how much pain he is in (seemingly over all the people he killed in Euclydia), all without any specific prompting. Just pushing. Bill is the one that connected those things. Bill hates Stanley (at least partially) as an act of self hatred. Because he has made the same mistakes and can never forgive himself for them. AND (at least partially) because Stanley is not only just like him, but now just like him if he had succeeded. Stanley got his "Redemption from a life of shame". and in so doing actively prevented Bills.

Now do you see what I'm saying about THE PARALLELS?!

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna was afraid to face her new friends after the night out at the bar. Admitting she was attracted to Bob was easier to do than explain why she couldn't have him. When she finally sends him some book recommendations, she finds his taste in books familiar in an all too intimate way. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna spent the rest of her weekend working on lesson plans and looking at Bob's number saved in her phone. She had compiled a mental list of titles she thought he would like, and she'd even pulled a few dog-eared books from her own collection and stacked them up on her narrow counter. She would absolutely love to have Bob borrow them from her, but she'd completely messed everything up.

Why, when confronted with a decent man, did she shut everything down and destroy all hope? Because of Kevin. That's why. She knew this crush on Bob was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, but she still caught herself looking at his contact information on Sunday evening with longing in her heart.

She made herself a sad sandwich for dinner and packed herself a second sad sandwich for lunch the next day and then she settled in with her computer. The idea of taking her sad sandwich to the quad and eating with her friends was making her anxious. What if they didn't even want her around now that she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of their friend? What if they looked up at her as she approached them sitting on the bench with their perfect, beautiful lunches and scowled with their perfect, beautiful faces? 

"Oh no," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. She really liked them, but they probably hated her now. And she really liked Bob, but he probably went home with that better looking woman who was at the Navy bar and hadn't thought about Anna one time since. 

She forced her attention to her computer screen which was prompting her for a password. She entered Kev1n1s@t00L and watched as the website she'd had open on her browser came to life. She sighed as she scrolled through her saved favorites on PoetsAmongUs. It was kind of pitiful that she knew what she was going to end up reading before she could actually admit it to herself. 

Your whispers call out in the darkest shadows, My heart answers like a flame, Igniting this shared space with every breath I take, Giving you a love that will never find the end. It binds me to you, pulsing through my veins, Emotions like I've never known before. I've doubted that I could reach this place, But I feel endlessly sure here now.

Anna whined from her bed in her sad little apartment as she looked at the pen name of her favorite poet before clicking on it. He either never finished filling out his profile or he was being purposely vague. Male, 30s, United States. 

"Sky Writing. The only man I would trust with my heart ever again." She read the poem once more. That was her favorite passage, but she knew everything he posted by heart and got excited every time something new from him popped up every few months. 

It was late enough that she could probably just go to sleep without acknowledging that she hadn't texted Bob and probably never would. She couldn't set foot back in that bar ever again. Maybe that other place that Jessica loved so much would be somewhere she could check out next time she had nothing better to do. Chippy's or something? She started to doze off.

When her alarm started blaring, it was almost like she had slept too well. She'd dreamed about a faceless man with beautiful hands reading poetry to her while he ran his fingers slowly up and down her bare thigh. She couldn't shake the delicious feeling even as her alarm got louder. When she managed to turn it off, she lay there wishing she had time to go on the poetry website and masturbate before work. 

"Stop it," she whispered as she got up and started getting herself ready for the day. 

At least she got to teach English 522 this afternoon. Feminist Literature was becoming one of her favorite classes, as evidenced by her well worn copy of Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu which was in her bag. When she stood in her kitchen and ate a peanut butter granola bar and drank some coffee, she looked at the books she had pulled out as options for Bob, but she shook her head and left for the day without dwelling on how disappointing her life truly was.

Relying solely on public transportation meant leaving a lot earlier than you wanted to, but Anna still barely made it to her office in time to grab her notebook and teach her first lecture of the week. Half of the students still looked like they were asleep while the other half were looking at her like she was a literary messiah. It was almost comical, and when lunchtime rolled around, she was in a pretty great mood. Until she realized she was still on the fence about going to the quad. 

"Just do a vibe check," she muttered as she grabbed her lunch from her office. "If they look pissed off, you can come right back here and never talk to anyone else again for the rest of your life." She could subside on sandwiches and online poetry and only speak when she was giving lectures. That sounded simultaneously amazing and also terrifying.

The college campus was bustling today. There were some guys skateboarding through the quad, and she recognized a few other faculty members from the English department who waved to her. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her heart from thudding in a sickening rhythm that Edgar Alan Poe would think was beautiful. When she spotted the two women on the bench in front of the weird tree, Anna was shocked to see them waving to her with smiles on their faces. 

"Anna!" called Jessica. "You'll never believe it! The vending machine just gave me my bottle of Pepsi and a bonus bottle of ginger ale! Like it knew I was about to see you!"

"Chaos Theory at its finest," said the other woman before she bit into her carrot stick and hummus. 

"It's really more of the Butterfly Effect," Jessica replied. Anna had no idea what they were talking about, but they scooted away from each other on the bench to make room, so she decided to stay.

Anna swallowed hard as she sat and opened her pack of peanuts. "How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked the two of them, and soon her nerves calmed down. 

"Excellent. Bradley and I took a tour of the library yesterday."

"Pretty good. I helped Jake make waffles for breakfast. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. What did you do with the rest of your weekend? After the Hard Deck?"

Anna accepted the bottle of ginger ale that Jessica handed to her as she said, "Um, well I did my lesson plans for the next few weeks. And I started writing my midterm exams. Nothing exciting."

She was met with a bit of awkward silence, and she could feel the two women sharing a look behind her head. "Did you happen to text Bob?" Advanced Calculus asked cautiously, and Anna knew this was the part where it was all over. The dramatic climax, except she was actually the villain in this story.

"No, actually. I think that ship has sailed," she replied softly. 

"Why?" Jessica asked, not unkindly. "When we figured out that you and he already met at the bookstore in North Park, we were ecstatic. He's the mystery guy you were losing your mind over, Anna! The handsome one with glasses who smells so good!"

"He really does smell good," Advanced Calculus muttered as she dipped another carrot into the hummus which was probably unfairly homemade. "Are you no longer attracted to him? Was it his nerdy tee shirt? Or were all the guys so obnoxious you couldn't wait to leave?"

Anna held onto the cold bottle of ginger ale a little tighter as she said, "It's not that at all. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to Bob? And I thought his shirt was kind of charming. And the rest of the guys were welcoming in a slightly intense way."

Now Jessica was turned to face her, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Bob thinks you ran away from him twice now because he's unappealing and boring."

Anna jolted and the pack of peanuts went flying to the ground, nuts rolling in every direction. "He does?" she asked, palms beginning to sweat again.

"Yeah. Big time. But he's quite attracted to you. Apparently the red hair is a thing."

"Oh my god," Anna moaned in embarrassment. Bob liked her red hair? "Oh no. No. No. He's just.... he's so.... and he's also.... I can't even." She took a deep breath as she kicked at the lost peanuts. "Bob is so handsome. It's hard to look into his eyes for too long, because you start to feel like you're going to break out into song. And I don't think I've ever been around a man who smells quite that nice. And he's funny and just a touch nerdy, but that's a good thing." 

There was another beat of silence before Advanced Calculus said, "I'm not really understanding what the problem is."

Anna shook her head and unwrapped her sandwich to keep her hands busy. "Listen, none of my weirdness is because of him. It's all because of me. I can't have a crush on him. I can't be interested in him. I can't be interested in any men whatsoever."

Jessica nudged her shoulder and said, "Maybe you could just text him? Maybe making another new friend wouldn't be so bad?"

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

"Well if you can't find a girlfriend, I hope you're at least getting your rocks off with an attractive lady."

Bob was cradling his forehead in his hand and trying to escape from Suzanne's house without having this conversation. Whenever he stopped to pick up dinner instead of cooking something at home, he always brought something for her, too. It was the neighborly thing to do, especially when your neighbor was decades older than you, but right now he just wanted to vanish. 

"I wouldn't tell you even if I was," he replied, earning a laugh as she opened up the container of soup at her kitchen table. 

"Sit down and stay for a while," she told him, pointing to the empty chair. "I'll pay you back for dinner with my charm and witticism since you won't accept any money."

His phone started to vibrate in his uniform pocket, and he dug it out thinking it was probably Jessica having finished mocking up her barbarian character for their campaign, but it was a text from an unknown number. He was about to pocket his phone again, but then he saw the words book recommendations and paused. He quickly unlocked the phone and started reading the texts that were coming through.

I have some book recommendations for you if you still want them. I'm sorry I didn't send them over the weekend.

This is Anna, by the way.

I should have started with that information.

Wow. This is already embarrassing.

Bob laughed and started to type back immediately, and then Suzanne's voice cut across his thoughts. "Are you sure you don't have a special lady? You're smiling an awful lot at your phone."

He looked at her and shook his head. "I'm sure. I like this girl, but she doesn't return my feelings that way. She's just sending me some recommendations." He started to back away as he added, "Enjoy your soup. I'll see you later, Suzanne."

"Good night, Robert."

Bob ended up standing just inside his front door as he saved Anna's number and typed back a message to her. He thought keeping it simple would be his best move. Anything more than that and he'd embarrass himself once again by getting ahead of himself with his feelings. 

I would love some more recommendations from you. You're the expert.

He only had to wait about a minute for her response, which was just a list of book after book after book that he'd never even heard of. The first were the ones she'd given to him verbally on Friday night, but the rest were just as foreign to him.

Anna Webber: Persuasion by Austen. Northanger Abbey by Austen, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, and The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas (because you like poetry so much)

Bob quickly ate his own container of soup while he read the list over and over again. Then without changing out of his uniform, he grabbed the keys to his beat up truck and headed to the bookstore in North Park to see if he could find any of these titles before they closed.

The store was virtually empty, and when he climbed the stairs up to the slightly dusty loft he could practically picture Anna's pretty hands and painted nails gliding along all of the spines. He could imagine her pretty, wide eyes looking up at him before she figured out he was boring. He could hear her laugh as he made his way to the spot where they had been standing together.

That horrible Vonnegut book was still there which made him chuckle. "Figures nobody else would want to read it," he muttered as he reached for it. Then he backtracked a little bit to start collecting everything from Anna's list. He referenced his text messages several times, hunting all over the Classics section until he had almost everything in order. Then he spread them out along the shelf and took a photo. He texted it to her before he could second guess himself after he added a short caption. 

Did I miss anything?

He was walking back down to the poetry section when his phone vibrated.

Anna Webber: You're at the bookstore right now? The one in North Park?

Bob froze in the middle of the stairs. He embarrassed himself without even knowing it. He must seem desperate right now. Running out to the store as soon as she sent him the list. "Shit," he groaned softly. When he got another message, he was almost afraid to look at it.

Anna Webber: I LOVE that store. I wish I were there right now, too.

Bob thought that sounded perfect, actually. Maybe if she were here now, she wouldn't run away this time. He'd been playing those kinds of scenarios over and over in his head, ones where she liked him back the way he liked her. Ones where they left the bookstore holding hands.

He continued downstairs to look for the book of poems she suggested for him, which he found quickly, along with Votive by Keiran Goddard. Would Anna like a copy of his favorite book of poetry? Did he even want to ask her? At this point, he had nothing to lose. She wasn't going to suddenly want him, but that shouldn't stop him from sharing a recommendation of his own. Especially when she might really enjoy something he found so spectacular. 

Bob held the book up and snapped a quick selfie, sending it away into the universe before dwelling on it too much.

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

Anna was preparing a piece of toast with jelly for herself or dinner, desperately wishing she were back at the bookstore. Bob was there, probably smelling so nice and luring everyone else who was shopping closer to him. Perhaps he was wearing another Dungeons & Dragons shirt like he'd worn to the Navy bar. Perhaps his biceps were straining against it.

She didn't have to use her vivid imagination for very long, because suddenly Bob was staring at her through her phone screen with his crooked little smile and his beautiful eyes. And his uniform. 

"Oh my god." The toast slipped from her fingers and landed jelly side down on her plate as she took in every single detail. Navy uniforms were khaki? Why had she assumed they were all navy blue? Why didn't she know more about the Navy? She was going to take the time to learn everything she could about the United States Navy. 

When she realized her mouth was dry, she reached for her glass of water and downed it. She was in a daze. A Bob Floyd induced daze. Even all the little pins on his shirt were distracting. She wanted to count all of them. She wanted to touch them. She wondered what they would feel like if she pressed her lips to them. 

"Stop," she gasped. But she couldn't. Now her eyes drifted up to his face again, and she thought she'd only really ever seen the exact color of his eyes in a Kandinsky painting at the Guggenheim. She couldn't look away. "No. No. No!" she moaned. And then she finally read the actual message he'd typed out after gawking at his photo for five whole minutes. 

Bob Floyd: Have you ever read Votive by Keiran Goddard? It's my favorite collection of poetry. 

Anna laughed a little hysterically. She hadn't even noticed he was holding up a book at all. His graceful fingers were wrapped around the damn thing, but she'd been too distracted by him to actually look at the book. But now the fact that she'd never read Goddard before had her flushed and flustered, because Bob had sent a book recommendation to her. Nobody ever did that, and all she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get her hands on a copy and devour the whole entire thing if it was something he liked. 

Very calmly and rationally, she typed back to him.

I have not read it yet, but I'll add it to my list of things to check out of the library. 

When she set her phone down and realized her toast had become a casualty to this text conversation, she moaned and flipped it back over. Her heart was still beating a little erratically from looking at Bob's photo for too long, and she didn't think she could even eat. There was no way she could waste any food in her current financial state though, so she took a bite anyway as he texted her back.

Bob Floyd: I'll just pick it up for you while I'm here. I hope you'll like it, but if you hate it, that's okay too. It's a bit of an acquired taste.

Oh no. She couldn't let him buy it, because she didn't have any extra spending money at the moment to be able to pay him back. But admitting that to him would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and she didn't even think she could do it. Perhaps she could scrape together twenty dollars if she skipped a few meals, but then she wouldn't be able to join the girls in the quad at lunchtime. They'd notice her lack of food right away. 

"Why are you such a disaster?" she asked herself as she scarfed down the rest of her toast and typed back to him.

Thank you. I can pay you back for it later.

She would figure it out. She always did. Even when she didn't want to, she managed to find a way to solve her problems. Even when it hurt.

Bob Floyd: It's my treat. I can give it to Bradley or Jake at work tomorrow. I'm sure either of the ladies wouldn't mind getting it to you when they see you. Or if you feel like it, we could meet for coffee one day and I could give it to you in person. Just let me know.

"Oh, Anna," she whispered, already typing out a response before she could think better of it.

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

Bob was surprised Anna took him up on his offer to meet for coffee, but he found himself looking forward to it in spite of the fact that he was still pining a bit. He'd get over it in time. He'd find someone new to crush on, or maybe he'd meet another girl that he was interested in, and maybe she would be interested back. But none of that stopped him from being excited at the prospect of being around her again. And none of that prepared him for the way he felt when Anna pushed through the door of the coffee shop on Wednesday evening and looked around tentatively. Her red hair was in another loose braid, and her freckles were so endearing.

As soon as her eyes landed on him, she looked less apprehensive but also more resigned. When she approached the table where he was sitting with three books, he stood. "Hey. Anna. How are you?"

"Hi, Bob." Even her voice was soft and sweet as her eyes swept along his face and body. She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she said, "Thanks for the book. Will you let me buy you something to drink?"

He didn't respond beyond nodding and leading the way toward the counter. He listened to her order a small coffee before he ordered a large hot tea, and when she reached for her wallet, he was already handing over a twenty. When she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes, he just smiled. "You don't have to buy me a drink."

She watched the money leave his hand as she said, "Well, you don't have to buy me one either."

"Too late."

She was quiet as they returned to the small table with their hot beverages, but as soon as she sat, she said, "You'll have to let me pay next time."

Bob slid two of the books across the table as he asked, "Next time?" But she didn't respond as she let her fingers brush along Votive before she picked it up to reveal the one underneath it.

Anna's laughter filled the small space as her eyes darted back up to meet his. "You bought Cat's Cradle? I didn't think that was the kind of thing you were looking for?"

He glanced down into his tea. "Uh, it's not. I got it for you."

"Bob," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine now. He liked her nail polish and wanted to touch her hands. "You did not have to get me two books."

"Yes I did," he said with a smile. "Vonnegut sounds horrible. I felt bad for it because nobody else was ever going to buy it. I couldn't just leave it to rot on the shelf when I know the only person who would be willing to give it a nice home."

When she laughed again, she seemed resigned to the fact that the books were both hers. "Thanks. Money is a little tight for me right now. You know how it is when you first move," she told him while she fidgeted a bit. "But next time, I'll buy your drink. Or your book. Or something."

"You keep saying 'next time'."

Anna poked at her coffee cup and said, "I thought maybe.... we could be friends."

"Friends." His voice felt and sounded stale. The word made him feel sadder than it should have. "Of course."

She looked even more relieved now as she took a sip of her coffee, but Bob was busy trying not to memorize the pretty pattern of her freckles across her nose and the way her lips were pursed. He wouldn't look at a friend that way. 

"Which book is that?" she asked, nodding toward the last one in front of him. 

He flipped it over so she could see the cover, and he said, "Oh, it's The Age of Innocence. I'm almost done reading it, and I was just hoping to get your opinions on a few things."

Anna's eyes went wider. "You're almost done reading it? Already?"

"Yeah." His voice sounded like a groan, and he knew he should be embarrassed since she recommended it two days ago, but he said, "Once I start a new book, I can't put it down if it's good."

"So you like it?" she asked, leaning a little closer to him as a smile played along her lips. 

"It's fantastic," he replied, and her foot brushed his softly beneath the table.

Anna licked her lips and shifted in her seat as she made a soft sound that just made Bob want to get closer to her. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and cleared her throat before she blurted out. "You're really handsome." His lips parted wordlessly, unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to as she immediately said, "And you're not boring. Not at all. I could have stayed in that dusty bookstore all afternoon, tucked away in the loft, talking to you about book after book."

"Oh," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I didn't disappear because of you. I disappeared because of me. And I'm really sorry about that."

Then he realized what was going on. His friends got to her already. He'd told Jessica on Saturday night that he was sure Anna ditched him because he's probably not as handsome or interesting as she's used to. And now he was going to have to text her and tell her to lay off. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without having to hear Anna pity him like this.

"Don't worry about it," he told her softly with his best attempt at a smile. "We can be friends."

When he got home, she texted him to thank him again for the books and the coffee. But he was still thinking about her freckles and how far down her neck they might go. Maybe they made a pretty pattern across her shoulders, too. Maybe they would disappear into her bra, a perfect treasure for another man to find. But not Bob. Bob and Anna were just friends.

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

When Anna finally got home after taking two buses, it was so late, she knew she should go right to bed. But she was wishing for another cheap bottle of wine to try to take her mind off of Bob. He was perfect, and she couldn't let herself have him. They could be friends, but nothing more. She could send him texts, but they couldn't flirt. 

She already missed his soft voice and the way he gave her his entire focus when they were together. He bought her two books! Nobody else ever bought her books! And he read the ones she recommended to him! Maybe Kevin was to blame for most things that had gone wrong in her life, but literally no man she'd ever known was as kind and thoughtful as Bob.

She collapsed back onto her bed in her sad apartment were she could look at her kitchen and her bathroom at the same time, and she opened the book of poetry. Bob's favorite poetry. Within minutes of reading the first few pages, she felt warmer and maybe a little flustered. The passages were romantic and insightful in such a familiar way. Something was tickling at her brain, trying to trigger a memory. She kept reading, making it fifteen pages in before she gasped and realized what it was. 

"Sky Writing," she murmured, reaching for her computer in favor of the book. She was reminded of her favorite novice poet from her favorite website. The poetry in the book sounded a bit like the poems written by Sky Writing, and now Anna was even more of a mess knowing that this was the kind of intimate literature Bob preferred to read. 

She wanted him. She wanted to know what his big, sturdy hands would feel like on her body. What his lips tasted like. She wanted to erase that pinch of doubt she saw on his face when she tried to reassure him that even though they were going to be just friends, she definitely found him attractive. 

The next time she went shopping, she was going to need to stock up on some more bottles of cheap wine.

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

Just friends. Okay, Anna. Sure, babe. Let's see how long that lasts. Bob's wingwomen are powerful. Thank you @lauratang for the book/reading list! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

God it really does hit when like. So many people have died, and many will continue to die.

I have met such kind Palestinian people here and have seen so many stories. Although the sheer number of requests is quite overwhelming...

I also have sort of decided to only focus on a few. Tamer Aldeeb's campaign mainly. He needs help. He is in danger. I pray he stays alive. That poem he read in passing over the destroyed house of someone who lost their entire family... absolutely heartbreaking. It will stay with me. I am sure of it. Where has the humanity gone?

All I can really do is say...

Donate and Share.

This is the least we can do.

In fact, I would appreciate it if my good friend, @cataphractastrophe could make a small contribution.

He needs help. I am spotlighting @tameraldeeb 's campaign because he needs help, I want him to have a way out, and I never want to experience the grief of losing him.

[klausysworld]

Are request still open and if they are can you make a Klaus Mikaelson one shot the girl is Tyler Lockwood sister and she hates Klaus so she rejects him as her mate but at the end she accepts him so like fluff at the end

What are you doing to me?

Finding out your mated to the all powerful original hybrid who ruined your brothers like and forced him to become half vampire while also terrorising your childhood friends and what not isn’t exactly at the top of my bucket list.

Him being a willing participant when it came to the whole ‘soulmate’ arrangement was also not meant to be in the cards.

When I realised we were mates I was 99% sure he would immediately reject me as a mate. As strong as a soulmate makes you, it will also always be your greatest weakness. I would be able to kill him far easier than anyone else and I was certain he would want to kill me first.

So him leaving me expensive gifts was…unexpected to say the least.

Detailed drawings of wolves and the full moon in the sky with a poem hand written on the back had my heart fluttering in ways that I should not have enjoyed.

But he had destroyed my brothers and the people I consider my family’s lives.

And so, despite the utter agony I was inflicting on both him and myself, I rejected him as my mate.

It’s a rare thing for wolves to reject their one, the side affects are awful in a way to force your mind into reconsidering.

The crippling pain was emotionally tormenting and physically exhausting. After the initial rejection I was barely able to leave my bed, eat, drink, I barely spoke a word and each time I fell asleep I was haunted by a similar image of Klaus.

Damon had messaged me letting me know Klaus had been out of sight for nearly 3 weeks after.

The pain lingered, never truly gone but it had dimmed. Though a sharp pain would shoot through me when he was too close, when the bond knew I was purposely ignoring him, and i could always see him wince at the same time.

The few times I didn’t shove him away, well I felt much better. He brought peace to my wolfs inner battle between soulmate and family because in reality I knew that he was both. I was just too afraid to admit it fully.

Though I couldn’t help but occasionally step a tad bit closer to him, to feel the warm buzz that ran through my bloodstream.

He was a lot less subtle though.

Often, as soon as his wolf sensed mine approaching he was all over me. Hands would be rubbing up and down my arms, his lips on my neck in a desperate instinctual need to mark me. And what was worse was that my wolf was all the more compliant and for a few wonderful seconds I could indulge in the blissful sensations. My head back, hands firmly gripping his henley and moans leaving my lips, my wolf having the desire to present myself in a truly embarrassing fashion.

Though he would always push it a tad too far, a grope to my ass, his canines about to pierce my skin, and I would be pushing him away. My wolf panting as I nearly tripped over my own two feet to get away from him while ignoring the intense feeling of my heart being squeezed unpleasantly.

I always managed to just scrape past him.

Suffering alone in my room again at the recurring torture of rejecting a mate.

His continued flow of presents didn’t help either, only made me feel worse seeing effort put into paintings of me and my wolf. He hadn’t turned into a hybrid, not yet at least, he probably knew that would be my last straw and id maim him.

But I knew he had followed my wolf on the full moons, I always woke with brand new clothes beside me, lead on a cotton blanket with a pillow under head and the snapping of twigs in the distance as he walked away.

And even though I should have said absolutely not when he personally delivered an invitation to his family’s ball, with those stupid puppy dog eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Please love, just one dance and if you don’t like it…then I’ll leave you be and accept your decision” as soon as the words left his mouth, both our souls twisted in agony making my teeth grind.

“Fine, just one” I whispered and he nodded, pulling me into a quick hug to calm down both our pain. Which it did like water on a fire, entirely putting out the flames and leaving us calm and quiet.

And then the dress arrived at my door, with matching shoes and accessories and I realised I actually had to do this.

Walking into his house sent a chill down my spine, my body felt much warmer and my wolf was howling inside me.

A hand on my shoulder had me whimpering softly making an arm wrap around my waist and pull me aside to another room.

“Shh love, we don’t want the rest of the guests hearing such lovely sounds” klaus murmured into my ear and I pressed against him, a small moan leaving my lips.

“This is too much for you isn’t it my love?” He whispered, his hand tilting my head making me look up at him.

The entire house smelt like him, I had seen parts of it in the dreams of him when he was suffering from my rejection. Which now intensified my guilt, my emotions were running haywire. I was in his home; I was in the wolf’s den.

Without thinking my hands tugged at his blazer, pushing it down his arms before my fingers began to pull his shirt open

“Woah love, it’s alright” he muttered, his hands grabbed mine and before I could blink we were outside. The cold air cooled down my boiling skin as I panted and he stroked my hair away from my face

“There we go, it’s okay” he cooed, the back of his hand pressing against my forehead.

“I hate this stupid bond” I whispered, covering my face.

“I know love…we can have our dance another time, I’ll take you home” he uttered, his tone was sad and my heart ached again.

“Stop it” I whispered “please stop it”

“Stop what love? What’s wrong?”

“Make it stop fucking hurting! I rejected you weeks, months ago! Why does it still hurt!? What are you doing to me?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes and spilling over. I looked up at him to see him in a similar state though no tears had fallen from his eyes yet.

His hand moved to cup my face and I couldn’t help but lean into it.

“It will only stop hurting us when you truly reject me. Somewhere, inside you, you still haven’t truly given up on the idea. You either have to reject the bond once and for all or accept me” he explained softly

“I would’ve been able to reject you if you left me alone. You kept sending all those things and being so kind, you did this to me” I whimpered

“I wouldn’t have done that if I couldn’t feel your soul still reaching for mine” he uttered “I would never intentionally harm you”

I let out a quiet sob as my soul pleaded for his.

I leaned forward so my head could press against his chest, my eyes closing at the content feeling that rose in me. I could feel myself giving into the bond, our souls slowly binding together. His hand held the back of my head, I could hear his heart speeding up as mine mimicked it.

His other hand moved around my waist, pulling me to him. “Good girl” he whispered “you’ll feel so much better now” he reassured “I promise I’ll make it better now sweetheart”

He kissed my head softly, his hand rubbing my back “let the bond form my love” he encouraged.

I focused on the connection trying to relight the candle.

I could feel the second it happened, my knees growing too weak to stand making him chuckle quietly and wrap both arms around me. He lifted me so my face could be right infront of his, prompting me to lean forward and press our lips together.

Our souls entwined as we did so, endless amounts of passion poured into one act.

The silent appreciation that this was real and it was only just the beginning.

[mrs-snape5984]

“Can we always be this close…forever and ever?”

“My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. All's well that ends well to end up with you.” (“Lover” by Taylor Swift)

Today I want to share something more cheerful with all you lovely people of Snapedom, because - to be honest - considering my last few posts on this blog, they could suggest the idea, that I might not be the most zestful person around here. Well…guilty as charged! 😅So, please, take my apologies for my constant venting and complaining about ME/CFS and the ways, in which this bitch of a disease destroyed the life, I’ve known before. But this particular post will be dedicated to LOVE.

I know, I’m using this blog as my personal journal in order to cope with the hardships of my existence, always relying on my 21 years lasting connection with Severus Snape…who is undeniably the one true love of my life. Some of you might judge or mock me for being so pathetically devoted to a fictional character over such a long period of time, but believe me…my love for Severus is my safe haven!

Sure, I’ve tried to give other relationships a shot, but after some really traumatic experiences with men and women, as well as two failed marriages, I’m coming to the conclusion, that I’m better off alone. I must admit, that being doomed to endure a so called life in my bed, only surrounded by darkness and mostly solitude, definitely has an influence on this conviction. Who knows, if I’d have the same beliefs if I weren’t “un-dateable”…but this doesn’t matter anymore, since there’s still no cure for my disease.

And yet… (enter dramatic sigh here 😂)

And yet, I still believe in love, despite my own failures…despite all the pain, the sorrows, the humiliation and the traumas, I’ve been confronted with. I guess, being intelligent (or at least well educated) and overly realistic didn’t prevent me from being a hopeless romantic human being.

My adolescent twins are currently entering the phase of their first “loves”. I’ve taught my three children from the very beginning, that it doesn’t matter, whom they love, unless they’re feeling safe and happy about it. My daughter is proud to have her first girlfriend, even though she’s already facing some difficulties in her environment, due to her frank nature to enjoy her crush. For me - a woman, who’s living openly bisexual 🏳️‍🌈 since I’ve been 14 years old - it’s absolutely unbelievable, that there are still so many people in our society, who seem to stick to their restrained beliefs about sexuality and gender. I will always try to support my children in their journey of self-acceptance and self-discovery.

So, yes, I still believe in love…no matter how this love might look like. Even though I’m confined to this prison, which is formed by my disease, I was allowed to find some kind of deep love in my friends. I want to share a short poem with you (written by Whitney Hanson for her book “Harmony”) which reminds me of the love, that I feel for these friends of mine:

I have always loved the way

Music could make the world feel

Like it doesn’t exist

As if suddenly all my fears

Are swept away

Who knew

That there are people out there

Who could make me feel the same way

Another love, which makes my heart swell with joy, is my love to all those amazingly talented artists of Snapedom, for whom I’m rolling out the red carpet on my blog, by using their art as my very personal soothing balm for my troubled heart and soul. This time, I’ve commissioned the lovely @kruzbr for the very first time. I’ve been fallen for their Severitus comics, so I asked them to help me out with making my own version of Severitus, together with my undeniably self-inspired OC Jules, come to life.

Anderson, your understanding of my ideas and your kindness made it a pleasure for me to join the process of creating this mesmerising masterpiece of art. I’m beyond grateful for your service and I can assure you, that this won’t be the last time, I will commission you for another adventure of Sevy & Jules. The next idea is already stuck in my mind, so keep an eye on your postbox! Thank you for everything, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[cassiopoet]

Headlights

Daily reminder: It’s not always what you think it is.

A/N: been a while since I’ve posted !! finals absolutely destroyed me but i’m back to messily drawn deer posting !!

Art & Poem cred: me (@cassiopoet)

[ineffablejaymee]

rex, just escaped anakin reciting poems about padme: force give me strength i cant deal with lovesick puppy skywalker, you'd think after they married he'd get his shit together

cody: *stares at rex trying to warn him

rex, sitting down:

bly: ...

bly: and THEN ayala locked eyes with me and absolutely destroyed the clankers that grabbed me-

rex: for fucks sake cody are you hearing this

cody:let him be vod, its kinda funny after you filter out some-

obiwan, walking past them: hello my dear commander

cody:*chokes on his drink and falls off the bench

rex:...

rex, on the verge of tears: *runs off* fOOOOOX-

rex, in front of fox's room: fox they are being absolutely disgusting ALL OF THEM help

fox, opening the door: what

rex: like i said- *looks at fox's ruffled hair, neck covered in hickeys and quinlan laughing in the room

rex:

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part three

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." - Salma Deera.

(HARRENHALL'S CASTLE. 130AC.)

When Alys Rivers was born, there wasn't a word that could properly describe her power. She could coax rain out of clouds, and foresee a million different outcomes - you were the opposite. Yes, you were different than the men of these lands but your powers were scarce it couldn't even promise your own safety.

Alys Rivers was a real witch, more powerful than any mage that has walked this earth. She had the power to destroy everything, but she never lifted a finger against you. You figured that you'd be safe as long as she loved you - she was your sister after all.

The woman that you trail behind.

"I was worried about you - I thought that you'd follow after your husband. I couldn't let you die." she whispered, staring deep into the fire - taking leisurely sips of her wine. "I wanted to die, Alys." you glared at her - memories of last night flooding through your mind.

"You don't really believe that," she says with absolute certainty. What use was living without the man that you loved? "- rain came and we prepared barrels to catch water. Rain is gone and you move on." she turned her head towards you, hidden wisdom in her tone.

"What do you think your husband would've done? If you died last night, and he lived." she mused, already having an answer in mind. "Silence," you gritted your teeth - but it only provoked her.

"He would've married another maiden - perhaps Rhaenyra Targaryen? I've heard stories about his love for her." she antagonized, and you retreated into your bed. "You don't know him, Alys." you breathed, praying that death would come sooner than men.

"I know men like him. My beautiful sister - seduced by that-"

"If you have nothing good to say, you may leave." you placed the blanket over your body. Ignoring her discontent.

yourname_: yeah he's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me 😎

liked by RhaeTargaryen and 283 others

>comments

aemond_hxghtower: 😨 my reaction to that information 😨

Aegspert: Short 🤣 - yourname_: Says the 5'10 asshole ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? - - Aegspert: @yourname_ it's 5'11*

(ST. JOSEPH THE WORKER'S SCHOOL IN DRAGONSTONE. JANUARY 6, 2023)

"Aemond please please please!" Joffrey pleaded while hanging onto his uncle's hoodie. "Please attend my birthday!" he requested showing the older man his 'puppy eyes'.

"He's not going to stop unless he gets what he wants." Harwin crosses his arms, smiling at the boy who was jumping up and down. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes, Joffrey keeps doing this because he knows that he'll get what he wants, once he does. "Your brother only turns five once," you agreed with his family.

His glare softens - he hated you in his past life, was only interested in you in this life because he enjoyed to torment you. But somehow, along the lines of being your boyfriend - and living with each other, he's found himself falling. He's grown to care for you.

"I don't know how we'll have fun, there'll be other kids there -"

"And there will also be adults." you responded and everyone stared at him for a reply. With a shaky breath, he relents.

"Of course we'll come. We have a lot of time." he smiled down at his nephew, mayhaps it was finally time to put his grievances aside.

Daemon's eyes narrowed hearing his phone ping. He never figured out how to put the thing on silent mode. "Take a left over there, much faster." he commented while pointing the right direction to the Uber Driver. "Apologies, it's my first time in this neighborhood." the driver chuckled and he hums. "There's always a first time for everything," he mumbled - staring at his phone.

yourname_ has requested to follow you.

He closes his eyes - should he accept it? Would you be turned off by the types of things he posted in Instagram? There were a couple selfies and charity foundation posts - the only people who followed him were his closest friends, family and students.

He presses the 'confirm' button.

yourname_ 10:28am i hope that you don't mind the follow request I couldn't find your facebook, I don't have an Iphone for imessage 😰

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:29am I don't have a facebook. Rhaenyra's kids set up this account ,,, something about me being a luddite 🤣

yourname_ 10:29am ohh i totally get those kids life is lonely without socmed i wanted to thank you for paying for dinner last night rhaenyra returned my share

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:30am It's nothing, I typically pay for the team dinners. It's not part of the bonus or anything Just my way of saying thanks 👍🏻

yourname_ 10:30am well...thank you anyways !

The driver stops his car in front of Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion. "We're here," he announces and Daemon silently gives his thanks, exiting the car before another round of conversation was started.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion slowly turned into a forest - there were beautiful balloons scattered around the doors, it looked exactly out of a fairytale. "Rhaenyra's husband, Harwin, owns this restaurant chain in the USA. I had no faith in him - but gods did he pull it off." Aemond mumbled, leading you towards the kitchen.

As expected with rich people - their kitchen wasn't exactly the main kitchen. It was a kitchen for decoration purposes, everything looked beautiful in this house. "When you told me that you had a trust fund, I didn't expect that you'd be this -" you stuttered, eyes gazing around the wonderful interior. "Oh no, this is all Harwin." Aemond lied.

He couldn't have you thinking that he could've provided you a better life. There were things that couldn't be bought by money - his happiness was one of those things. "Rhaenyra's husband is cool, he's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up." you whispered and he replied with a small chuckle.

Some things never change.

"Maybe you'll finally start to read that cookbook that my mum bought you?" he teased, hand trailing towards the small of your back. "Or you can cook, and I can keep eating." you responded, he pulls your body closer. "Whatever you say, boss." he agreed.

A man clears his throat from behind the both of you.

"No sex on the countertops, I can't believe that we're having this talk again." Criston Cole rolls his eyes playfully, Aemond smiles. "Criston, it's been a while." he welcomed his father-figure with a warm embrace. Rhaenyra's house used to belong to their father, when Viserys died and Alicent married Criston - they briefly lived in this house. "Too much of a while," the man pats his back.

"Is this her?" he pointed in your direction. "In the flesh," you responded - hugging him tightly.

You've never met the man in person - but via video-call and Aemond's stories, he was a vital figure in his childhood. "You are taller in person." he complimented and you giggled. That was the first time someone called you taller. "You know, the last time I saw Aemond - he was boning his ex-girlfriend on these countertops." Criston chuckled with cadence and Aemond rolled his eyes.

"I do not want to talk about that witch again, what is dead may never die again." Aemond shook his head, his hands finding its place back on your waist. "If you say so," Criston poured himself a glass of seltzer.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you were teaching that dojo in Manila?" you tilted your head and the man nods. "It's not everyday that Joffrey celebrates his birthday, plus, I thought I'd come to visit -" he winked at Aemond. "It's nice to haunt your mother once in a while." he joked.

"I still can't understand why you agreed on a divorce. You loved her - she adored you. You know how conditional mum's love is." Aemond turned serious for a second. His grip on your waist tightened. "You know what. You should catch up with Helaena, I have to talk to Criston." your boyfriend whispered and you nod.

There were some aspects of his life that didn't require an explaination.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S FOYER)

You saw him again.

Daemon Targaryen - his name brought shivers down your spine. You stalked him a few hours ago - and to your surprise he was on that same train-ride in Italy. It is certainly a small world.

"Oh hey," he greeted with a smile. He held a large gift with both of his hands. "Where do you put this?" he inquired, searching the foyer for a table. "I-I don't know, I didn't bring a gift." you breathed, suddenly conscious of your simple mistake. "Oh no, it's okay - I'm the uncle that brings big gifts. It's my family title," he chuckled, verbally thanking the maid that came to retrieve his gift.

He had a certain cadence to him. He required no introduction.

"I normally bring gifts to birthday parties but we were here on short notice," you smiled - leading him towards the living room.

Why did he make you feel electrified?

You stared deep into his eyes, unaware of the jazz music that began to play in the background.

'All roads lead to you, even the ones I took to forget you' - Mahmoud Darwish

"I don't recommend bringing these kids gifts. I detest spoiled brats - these kids are far from it but they have everything. Bring them to a park or buy them ice cream, they'll like it more." he advised.

Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"In that case, what did you buy them?" you inquired, and he smiled. "30 kilos of kinetic sand ... they requested it." his voice brought shivers down your spine. There was something alluring about his voice, he spoke like a great commander - he knows what to say. He tells you what you should do.

Who was this ethereal wisp of a man? Why did he bring so much emotions?

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S LIVING ROOM)

A small giggle escaped your mouth.

"What do you think? Should people think with their hearts or their brains?" Rhaenyra inquired, piquing everyone's interest with her simple question. "Everyone should always think with their hearts," Rhaenys begins and Corlys rolls his eyes. "The words of a tender hearted woman." he teased earning a glare from his wife.

He presses a kiss to her hand. "I'm kidding, my love." he whispered.

"I mean as women - we think with our hearts first, then our brains - after that we make a logical decision." Rhaenys adds and Laenor shakes his head. "That would mean that you think with your brain, mother." Laenor argued and Rhaenys shook her head.

"My brain only made a decision between what my heart believed." Rhaenys raised her finger. "I think we should think with our brains. The question itself is the answer. Should people think with their hearts or their brains? What do we use to think? Our brains - is it not?" Daemon questioned the question.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean, uncle."

"What about you, (Your Name). What do you think?" Corlys turned his head and all of their attention crashed towards you. "Shouldn't you give an opinion first, sir?" you smiled, pouring yourself a glass of soda. "Oh, I don't think I'll have much of an opinion. I agree with whatever my wife thinks about." Corlys chuckles.

"- then we think with our wives and not our hearts or brains." Daemon joked, earning a laugh.

"Well - our hypothalamus is the part of the brain that deals with love. When we say 'I love you with all of my heart' we don't actually mean that. What we mean is - I love you with all of the neurons in my hypothalamus. So - we do think with our brains. Daemon is right." you smiled and he patted your back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict has been handed." Daemon teased the others and the table erupts into laughter. "Nerd," Rhaenys rolls her eyes before you both erupt into laughter.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

"On the screen, she looked like Alys. I thought that you found her again, but I know that girl - the comeliest woman in Harrenhal. All the knights used to travel all the way there - just to see her." Criston chuckled, reminiscing the past that he had.

He was much more handsome then, he had muscles, his body was toned - but now he was suffering hypertension and all other human deceases that didn't exist in the past.

"She's still very beautiful."

"I thought that if she and her sister would be reincarnated into this world again - they'd be models or something. Whatever did happen to Alys? I thought you loved her?" Criston inquired, Aemond's heart breaks a little. He's spent 25 years trying to forget Alys Rivers. He tried to forget those cold hands that have ensnared him.

In night, he sees her face in his dreams - eyes with kohl and plum red lips. He misses the woman that he used to love. All that he's loved in Alys, he tries to find inside of you - though your faces were similar, your personalities were as different as sun and moon.

He's grown to love you, yes.

You can never find the same person twice, yes.

But if he were to meet Alys - and she was suddenly different in this life. He'd still love her. He'd still love the different ways he'd fall in love with her. His Green Witch.

"or did you not love her?" Criston's eyes narrowed.

"I did - I do." he corrected himself.

"- but she won't come back. She told me that she'll never have a new body again." he shrugged, walking away from the kitchen - pretending that he wasn't affected at all.

next chapter>>

[tempestmothstorm]

I’m thinking about the whole "you are not your feelings" theme the side stories have and how that contrasts with the main game

Like the two talks in reflection where Sayori and Monika tell the others about how their emotions don’t have to define who they are and don’t make them bad people. This theme of singular traits not defining who you are/not controlling who you want to be is backed up by the rest of the side stories, which exist to show how the characters are multifaceted and human. They aren’t tropes or defined solely by their thoughts or actions. They aren’t perfect nor pure evil, only people trying their best. They’re real, complex people, and the ‘you are not your feelings’ phrase is proof of that.

The side stories’ goal of presenting these characters as human go directly against a ~certain someone’s~ goal of flattening and dehumanizing them in the main game. Its clear Monika here doesn’t really learn the ‘you are not your feelings’ thing in this world, something that happens with a lot of the lessons learned in the side stories (i.e. the ones in each title). Due to the whole disillusionment with reality thing, her attitude to the rest of the club is pretty dismissive, seeing them as one-dimensional characters tropes, making whatever flaws they have as their defining trait.

I'm going to focus on the CANYOUHEREME.txt though cause it pretty easily sums up her feelings so I'm just gonna put it here

Beneath their manufactured perception - their artificial reality - is a writhing, twisted mess of dread. Loathing. Judgment. Elitism. Self-doubt. All thrashing to escape the feeble hold of their host, seeping through every little crevice they can find. Into their willpower, starving them of all motivation and desire. Into their stomach, forcing them to drown their guilt in comfort food. Or into a newly-opened gash in their skin, hidden only by the sleeves of a cute new shirt. Such a deplorable, tangled mass is already present in every single one of them. That's why I choose not to blame myself for their actions.

All I did was untie the knot.

This poem is interesting because it does make them out to be more human compared to the anime tropes Monika says they are in the act 3 talks, but replaces the empathy found in the side stories with disgust, painting the club as gross, immoral, and everything the girls fear themselves to be. Monika sees the stuff they hide, all the complex feelings and less savory traits, and sees it as their truth, their whole being. Their feelings define them, what they think is their worst is all they've ever been, and that these things make them awful people. When Monika forcibly brings these things to the forefront, it's their fault alone when act out, because their darkest thoughts are all they'll ever be.

She knows they’re more than that, but she’s actively in denial about how much she actually cares, and the epiphany absolutely destroyed her ability to see her friends as actually complex people beyond their programing.

I think that's part of why comparing her to side stories Monika messes me up so much because she's like!! So nice!!! Mature!!!! And understanding!!!!! And she sees her friends faults and all!!!!!! And she loves them anyways and understands their goodness!!!!!!!!!! But main game strips that away from her and makes her cynical!!!!!!!!!!!! And she can't see the goodness in her friends anymore because they aren't real and they're scripts made to appeal to a dumb dating sim and she!!!!!!!!!!! Can't see them as people anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So their flaws turn into THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

. . . And that concludes today's Monika analysis.

[naamahdarling]

Do you have a favorite musical?

If so, what are your favorite lyrics from it, and why?

ALW's CATS.

Is it a surreal mess? Yes! But I love it before everything else.

The lyrics are silly but very clever. Most are at least partly by TS Eliot, drawn from a wonderfully nonsensical book of poems.

I think my favorite song is the Invitation to the Jellicle Ball, neck and neck with Mr Mistoffelees.

My favorite cat is Mistoffelees by a lot, followed by the Rum Tum Tugger. They are in love.

But the part that makes me feel the most in my heart is Grizabella. The only cat I relate to is Grizabella.

Memory is the big number that everyone knows and I do absolutely love it, it's one of my favorite songs and probably the best in the musical as it was before CATS 2019 introduced a new song, but I feel that out of context it simply doesn't have punch. It gets trotted out to showcase a singer's skill, as a bit of a tearjerker if you're a sentimental person. It is so much more than that.

I didn't understand Grizabella properly until I was well and truly an adult and had taken in multiple cats off the street, and lived near a colony, and watched my own cats become frail, which are all painful things in many ways; AND until I had begun to really feel the weight of my marginalization as a disabled person and an ill person, which means confronting almost daily the fact that I am unlikely to come to the sort of end I would like.

Hold on because I'm going to be unhinged about this cat for a minute.

Grizabella is an aged stray, once welcomed, now abandoned and unloved, considered ugly even by others like her (who are shown to supposedly accept differences and value, or at least respect, most everyone...but not her).

She lives in a haunted, lonely state unacknowledged by anyone except to be driven away. She can no longer care for herself, she is filthy and matted and scarred and probably in a lot of pain, she is starving, and she has nothing but her memories of better times, and every single dawn is both a gift and a miserable curse. She gets to remember. She has to remember.

If you watch, Grizabella is onstage a LOT, she's just off in the background, usually poorly lit, where she tries to mirror the dances happening on the main part of the stage, dances she knows because that was once her, there in the spotlight, shining. But now she's in too much pain to dance and her body isn't working right anymore. I have no doubt Grizabella is dying. The question is whether she will get to do that well, comforted and with dignity, or do it badly and alone.

I cannot HANDLE Grizabella.

If you have even the tiniest inkling of love for cats, if you believe every cat's life is worth something, her story should destroy you.

The legendary Jennifer Hudson's performance in the movie brought a really angry and confrontational turn to her, and it was flat out amazing. A rebuke of a performance. It really hurts to watch but it's what the role has always needed. She isn't just weak and sad, she clings to the tatters of her dignity and is angry that the others don't see her as a whole person. Just a miserable shadow to be avoided. A cautionary tale. We are never told what terrible thing she did to deserve her fall, and given that most of the Jellicles are young, I don't know that any of them really remember.

I will physically fight anyone who says she should not have been selected to ascend to a new life. She was the only choice. Even Gus. Even him. He can have his turn next year. Grizabella does not have another year in her.

And I'm going to make some folks mad but I love the 2019 movie (it's bad) and the new song, Beautiful Ghosts, is amazing, and I DO prefer Taylor Swift's version as the movie version is a little more timid (fitting the role and musical way better) but TS fucking BELTS IT and I get chills every time.

The lyrics are incredible and the song is gorgeous, gorgeous. And strung together with Grizabella's song, it finishes the musical in a way that it was a bit unfinished before. It uses an actual full song to connect Grizabella to the Ball and the Choice more directly than any choreography ever did or could:

Victoria, the White Cat and viewpoint character, still almost a kitten, has been dumped in the street and into a terrifying and beautiful new life.

After being swept up into its wonder, she sees Grizabella, utterly rejected, hissed at, made fun of, despised, and aches with the injustice of it -- Victoria was snatched right up by the other cats the instant her paws hit the ground, but nobody will take in Grizabella. Not even her own kind.

Victoria sees how strangely similar they are and feels a kinship that has no pity in it at all, but wonder and respect.

So Victoria sings this new song expressing the first admiration Grizabella has heard in god alone knows how long, reminding her she has had an amazing life worth envy and renown, and she pulls this horrible decrepit old mess of a cat into the Jellicle Ball, where she is FINALLY relieved of her pain.

Like? I'm crying right now?

It isn't a serious musical, but Grizabella's story runs through it like a cold current, something real and terrible, surrounded by absolute ridiculousness. Her numbers are deadly serious, never played for laughs. And ultimately it is her story that turns out to be the most important one, the truest one, and it is dark, and it is hopeful but only in only the most painful and grief-stricken way. She isn't brought back into a comfortable life with other cats to be happy and surrounded by love. She essentially...dies and goes to cat heaven. She embodies hope itself to the others, and her ascension represents a deeply humbling lesson in humility and grace. Her suffering and her ascent represent the possible future of every one of them, and now they have to confront that, and their treatment of her. She was rewarded, and for all their beauty and charm they were not.

Anyway I'm not normal about it.

The lyrics from Beautiful Ghosts that I love are:

Perilous night, their voices calling. A flicker of light, before the dawning. Out here the wild ones are taming the fear within me. Scared to call them my friends and be broken again. Is this hope just a mystical dream?

and

And so maybe my home Isn't what I had known, what I thought it would be. But I feel so alive With these phantoms of night, and I know that this life isn't safe but it's wild and it's free!

Like, come on. It's a lovely song and it took my breath away in the theater.

Ugh this musical touched me as a feral cat girl of 10 and it touches me again as a sad catguy in their 40s. Truly a very stupid work of weirdly meaningful art and one for the ages.

There are much better musicals, but none of them are part of me.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not trusting my mom's online boyfriends, and fearing it may be a trafficking ring?

My (20ftm) mother (59f) has been talking to people who claim to be famous rock stars online, who send her poems and shit daily and promise to come meet her, one showed a picture of him holding a sign with her name on it and promises to meet her next weekend. he has a wikipedia page and it says he's married, which is a red flag. he also said he's pro lgbt and would "accept our whole family". she gave them our address and told me that she doesn't care if they're axe murderers, she'd run into their arms to escape my dad (54m).

obviously, this is very disconcerting and scares the absolute shit out of me because i have severe ocd (doctor diagnosed) and one of my worst fears is rape or any sexual contact in general due to horror stories i've heard. my parents also tend to downplay me and assume half the shit i say are paranoid intrusive thoughts and that they shouldn't heed the warnings. my dad and mom are still married but don't live together because my dad cannot make money in the state we reside in, and is very resentful of us because we were kicked out of my grandma's (yes, he lives with his mom) because i was trans after she destroyed my belongings. and he is threatening to throw me out because of my doctor-diagnosed, agonizing disabilities despite him legally not being able to. i'm also autistic, and he is as well

even so, i'm still terrified and think something is amiss. i told her she needs to tell dad before moving across the pond (yes, america to terf island) because if we go missing nobody will know where we went. she told me she'll only tell him after we end up in britain. that obviously makes it worse. aita?

What are these acronyms?

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

Damaged

I dont think this is so much a poem as me just smashing words together to cope. im just trying to make sense of things. this is years and years of pieces of myself and of Crowley spilled over the screen. i might have taken it too far i mightve choked on the things i wanted to say but well it's done now so yeah. please proceed with caution this poem deals with self loathing and the such

-

How can you see beauty

In a broken thing like me?

For I am tainted, stained by sin

How can you love a crippled soul

That’s marked by scars too deep to hide?

Scorched and carved up and then spit out

By the place I once called my own

Forced to grow fangs and claws

To shield myself from the torment of my past

But now, I brush my hands against yours

And I leave a trail of scarlet upon your flesh

I've become the beast I feared

Struggling to recognize the reflection in the mirror

As it distorts 

Into a monstrous mask

Yet you hold me with gentle hands

As spiders spill from my eye sockets 

Falling on the ground that grows webs in their wake

Securing me in place

To ensure that I cannot escape

Myself

Yet you remain steadfast by my side

As my sharp branches that I call limbs

Ensnare your figure and pierce your sacred skin

I see the pain etched upon your face

And I curse myself for it

For this is how I love—

With claws that cut and fangs that maul

And no one should endure the love I give

For is it love, if it destroys

You?

Yet still, you stay,

A martyr, a sacrifice,

A holy fool

You see value where there is none

I am but a stain upon your purity

A blemish on your perfection

A poison coursing through your veins

A parasite feeding on your kindness

Venom oozes out of my wounds

Burying you alongside the echo of my being

I am a plague, spreading with every breath I take

The ruptured creature within

Will not stop until you collapse into my useless arms

Until we become one

And I would rue the day I first drew breath

The day She sculpted me out of fire

And left me there to burn

The day she imprisoned me in this vessel

Cursed me to crawl on broken legs

She never loved me—

How could She love a creation designed to falter?

Yet you do 

Despite my flaws?

So teach me, angel, if you dare

Show me that I’m not beyond repair

For I’m still damaged, in need of mending

How can I not be? Look at me

How can you love this misshapen thing I am

With jagged edges, dented thorns?

My mouth so rough, my wings all faulty

My eyes unable to perceive the light

My body, nothing but shards of broken glass

And my heart, a barren wasteland

My tongue slit, but what’s one more tear,

On my already fractured frame?

How can you love me

When I have forgotten

How to love myself?

-

ive never been more scared to post something. im gonna disappear from the face of the earth for a bit now

read it also on ao3:

hey my absolute favourite people of this site i hope you dont mind @crowleys-hips @bearthewhipsandscornsoftime @fearandhatred @ghostsparrow @eybefioro @seven-stars-in-his-palm @ficreader500 @crowleys-curl @crowleybrekkers @notagoodlad @lickthecowhappy @di-42 @goodoldfashionednightingale @spookyllamatree @wanderer-main @ineffabildaddy

[lemon-natalia]

Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 37

hmm yeah it is suspicious that the Emperor has to be locked away during the attacks. he gives an explanation, but we really only have his word for it

the Lyctors seem perfectly (and very convieniently) made to be able to enter the River while still defending themselves, which makes me wonder if that was the original purpose of creating Lyctorhood, and the Emperor maybe has some kind of plan revolving around it?

now this guy is quoting fucking Psalms 26 in Latin?? thats different to the quotes from before, the fact that its religious is interesting given this guy is apparently ‘God’ now, but he’s quoting a biblical text. also given Harrow can’t possibly know what he’s quoting 90% of the time, he’s awfully pretentious

Harrow’s eighteen, i’m pretty sure she knows how babies are made dude. at least she definitely knows after you guys nearly had a threesome in front of her on the dining room table

he’s been thinking Harrow and Ianthe are a thing omfg

the mysterious A.L.! somehow i was right that the Annabel Lee poem connected to her. and her having another name, and being dead for ten thousand years, i feel like thats a pretty good candidate for the good old Locked Tomb body. at least, thats my current theory.

‘She was my Adam’ again with the biblical stuff, this guy is seemingly religious, but also thinks he’s God??

and apparently the First House was destroyed via climate change and nuclear explosions. if i needed any other confirmation that its Earth (or some equivalent) then i’ve got it here i think

also he was just a normal person before the world ended, and he was the only one who survived and somehow became an incredibly powerful necromancer. i mentioned waaay back at the beginning of this liveblog that i knew there was a guy named John who had something to do with an apocalypse, but i didn't know if i was misremembering him being actually responsible for it, or if i was mixing it up with the Magnus Archives. and i, uh, still have no clue if that is the case or not from this convo, though i do feel like there's more he's not saying about this anyway (please no spoilers about this, i really appreciate everyone explaining things to me in the notes but i'd like to find out whats actually going on with this specifically while reading)

and A.L. was not a ‘normal human being’ whatever that means, and the Lyctors are ‘in a very real way’ A.L.’s children … what on earth does that mean? she discovered the secret of Lyctorhood maybe?

well that whole conversation both answered a whole bunch of questions and absolutely nothing at the same time 😂

well okay the dude’s gone past playing parent and just outright told Harrow he sometimes wishes she was his daughter. i really don’t know how much of that affection is genuine

imagine telling someone you view them as a surrogate daughter and they fucking. smash a glass table in response lol. and yeah if its been ten thousand years and you haven’t developed emotional intelligence yet, then i don’t think its happening mate

ohhhh shit she’s telling him about the Locked Tomb. and i suppose there are worse ways this could have ended than him not believing her at all, but i really don’t think she’s wrong, especially since Gideon said she saw her do so/saw the door open in the last book, i think she did get in there somehow

wait i was working under the assumption that it was the Emperor who’d messed up her memories, but its not! did she do it to herself then after writing the letters?