Multi-chapter fics need love

Attention everyone.

The more chapters a fic has, the MORE YOU NEED TO COMMENT. 

I’m looking at all these fics with lots of kudos, lots of hits, lots of subscriptions I’m sure, and then *crickets* at an update. IF THERE ARE SAY 100 PEOPLE SUBSCRIBED, WHY ARE THERE ONLY TWO COMMENTS?? Let’s say only 10% of the people still read it. That’s ten comments that should be there. 

Too shy or worried or blah to comment? Here’s some copypastes for you:

  • I love this chapter so much.
  • I love reading this fic.
  • I think about this fic a lot.
  • It makes me happy when I see there is an update. 
  • This story is so intense and well-written.
  • I’ve been following since the beginning and it’s better than I imagined.
  • I’ve fallen in love with your characterization.
  • *quote your favorite part* This is my favorite! 
  • This fic made me think about a lot of things. 
  • I’ve learned some things about myself reading this story.
  • This is my favorite fic of all time. 
  • I reread this all the time. 
  • *incoherent screaming*
  • This is absolutely delectable and I love it. 

Use one! Use all! There are endless possibilities! Don’t feel pressured to write an essay. Just say that you are still here and you’re happy! 

It would be preferable for you not to say 

  • Can’t wait for the next chapter!

It’s ok when combined with other things, but if that’s all you say…..? We’re looking for love on the hard work we just posted

When you post your first chapter/oneshot, you worry: “Is anyone reading it? Does anyone like it? PLease someone, anyone!?” and you wait for people to come into your space. 

When you post your Xth chapter, you already know that people are reading it, there’s already a crowd gathered. Even if it’s only a few people, you know that they are there. “Does no one like it? What’s going on? What happened? Everyone loved it before?? I thought?? Did I mess up?”


Love your author. They need it. 


“Over the course of more than 1,000 covers, the Foss future gradually gained recognizable themes regardless of whose book they adorned. Massive tanks and robots commonly scavenged through decaying piles of machinery on brutalist alien planets. Bulbous, colorful starships floated through the hyper-industrialized society of Foss’s imagination. A scene might feature a high-tech Atlantis or reveal the alien origins of Easter Island statues, but some form of well-worn, battle-scarred hardware was omnipresent. His signature, a capital F encapsulated in a shapeless figure, was always nestled around the bottom.”

Want to learn about the biggest name in 70s sci-fi art? Read the rest of this profile: Chris Foss, The Man Who Defined the Look of Sci-Fi

Giving it Up (Part 2)

part 1

wanting to see your husband compete at the olympics aka nathan says no 

word count: 2,187

“I still can’t decide,” Nathan says looking over two of the same yellow paint samples. You playfully roll your else at him, “oh come on they’re the exact same color!” He scoffs at you. “The color of our child’s room is resting in our hands and you’re treating this like a joke.”  

The last couple of months had been a whirlwind, between doctor’s appointments, getting used to being out of the water, and Olympic trials you barely had time to catch your breath. There was only a short period of time you had left to spend with Nathan before he went to training camp so you were both trying to fill it with as much baby planning as you could. Besides your feelings of jealousy at the beginning of the pregnancy everything for the most part was smooth sailing between you and Nathan. Well, except for one thing.

“So what time is your flight on Tuesday?”

Nathan’s eyes go up a bit; trying to recollect what time it was he would be departing for training. “Hm, I think maybe around 6?”

“And how long after that do you leave for Rio without me?” As soon as the question’s out of your mouth Nathan sighs. “We’ve been over this.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” You say, desperately wanting to travel to Rio to see your husband and all of your friends compete on the world’s biggest stage.

“We really can’t,” Nathan says and walks away from you into kitchen trying to end the conversation not wanting to fight about it anymore. The smooth sailing was in motion; at least it was until you both encountered the discussion of traveling to the Olympics.

There had been multiple warnings of the Zika virus in Brazil and if contracted how it can affect people who come into contact with it, it harming pregnant women especially. You had spent hours arguing over it, Nathan of course clearly against you traveling with him. You tried and tried to play the “I’ve given up my career at least let me go watch” card, but unfortunately his stance hadn’t changed or altered in any way. Convincing him that it probably wasn’t as serious as people were portraying it didn’t work either. You in a way had both silently agreed to leave it at that and not bring it up unless it was completely necessary. However now that you had brought it back up, it was only a matter of time before borderline shouting began.

“Nathan if you’ll just listen to me for one second.” You try putting more authority in your voice, wanting him to really pay attention to your case. It doesn’t do anything, “I can listen to you all day, but it really doesn’t change what’s going on and what the outcome’s going to be.”

You frown at him; “you honestly don’t want me to be with you in Rio? Supporting you? Cheering you on?” For what must have been the thousandth time, Nathan sighs and shakes his head at you. “Of course I want you there, but it’d be much better having you here at home, knowing you and the baby are safe.”

You avert your eyes away from him, not wanting him to see how much you still disagreed with him. However, there’s no such he luck and he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Do you really feel like you going is more important then our baby’s life?”

Of course you didn’t think that, not in a million years. Inherently you just felt very needy when it came to swimming, and missing it really made it kick into gear. Even though you knew going to Rio could possibly put the baby at risk you still had a strong want to go and that alone made you feel terrible. However, you didn’t reply to Nathan just kept a large waft of silence between you two.

“Right, okay.” Nathan says bitterly, “I’m going out then.” You watch him grab his coat and keys from the kitchen as he heads out the front door, not forgetting to slam it in the process.

When Tuesday finally rolled around the fight between you and Nathan hadn’t dwindled. You barely had said anything to one another in Nathan’s couple of last days before seeing him again at the end of August. The last thing Nathan had said before heading to training camp was, “See you later,” to which you replied with, “have fun.”

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Originally you and Nathan were supposed to be getting on that plane together, but now you were supposed to be his support system. He was what mattered to you the most, and you were supposed to be sending him off in excitement, wishing him the best luck at the Olympics not just saying, “have fun.”

The weeks leading up to the Olympics you sent Nathan a large amount of texts and called him multiple times to which he replied, but it definitely seemed like he was still upset with you. You weren’t sure what it was that you could do to bring things back to normal besides heading on a plane to Rio to surprise him. Which of course would only make the situation worse. You figured the hostility still present between you and Nathan was due to the combined stress of competing in the games and the at home drama. You out of everyone knew he needed to be more than focused for the upcoming weeks.

It was hard for you, finding things to keep you occupied around the house. You were so used to either being in the pool or going to meets with Nathan that you weren’t exactly sure what to do. All of your friends swam, many of them in the same position as Nathan so finding company wasn’t very easy. You also attempted to just focus on baby things, but it felt wrong doing anything without Nathan.

You hadn’t actually really left the house until the Wednesday before the opening ceremony of the Rio games. You planned on having a viewing party for the first day of competition for Nathan, inviting over some of his non-swimming friends and a few others over. You knew that you needed to go to the store and pick some things up before then.

On the drive to the grocery store you made sure to make a mental note of everything that was completely necessary to buy. Halting at the stop sign just down the street from your home, you felt your mind wonder from one thing to the next until you felt your body jolted a bit forward. Looking in your rearview mirror, you see a man stepping out of his car behind you. You have got to be kidding me, you think to yourself. You follow the man’s movements and do the same.

After exchanging information you decide to shoot Nathan a quick text

Hey just got in a little accident with the car so don’t be surprised when the insurance goes up

As instantly as you send the text you feel your phone vibrate with an incoming call from your husband.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? Is everything okay? Have you gone to the doctor’s yet to make sure the baby’s okay?” All of the words shoot out of his mouth quickly and you barely have a chance to process his words. “Everything’s fine. It was just a small fender bender. Nothing to ward a doctor’s visit.”

“No, no, no. You have to go. Just to make sure.”

“Nathan, it’s not that big of a deal. If I knew this would get you so worked up I wouldn’t have even texted you.” You sigh, hearing a few honks from drivers behind you since you were illegally parked. “I’m glad you did! Do you need me to come back?”

You opened your mouth stunned, “What?”

He repeats himself, “Do you need me to come back?”

Here he was only a couple of days from competing in his third Olympic games and asking if you needed him to come back home after the most minimal car accident one has ever had in their life.

Nathan was really willing to give it all up for you and the baby. You finally understood why he was so upset and broken about your Rio fight. He felt himself willing to do anything and be self-sacrificing for your family, while you were always half in. You needed to be willing to throw yourself in. You only continue to put yourself first; you didn’t have a right to do that anymore.

“No of course not. I’ll head to the doctor’s office now.” You tell him and you hear him let out a breath as though he’s been holding it this entire time you’ve two been in limbo.

“Thank you.” There’s a pause and you almost feel yourself breaking down. “I’m so sorry babe. I-I’ve been so selfish this entire time and I haven’t been giving enough.” Your words come out like vomit.

“What are you talking about? You gave up Rio and your career, you gave up everything.” Nathan says, clearly trying to soothe you.

“Sure, but I’ve been treating those things like they’re the most important thing I have, but they’re not. You and this baby are the most important things to me. Nothing else.”

“I love you.” Nathan says simply, and with that you know the difficulties between you two have disappeared. “And I love you,” you begin but are soon cut off by another honk, “but I have to go because I’m actually breaking the law right now.”

He laughs, “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll talk to you later tonight, I love you so much.”

“Bye babe. Love you.” He responds

Hanging up, you take a deep breath in finally thankful that this was over. You could now focus on the baby and rooting on your husband from afar. Moving your hand to your stomach you rub it once, “everything is okay.”

You checked your phone once more to make sure you had the correct time. Nathan was supposed to be getting off that airplane any minute and you wanted to make sure he would see you right away. In your hands you have a large sign that says “Welcome Home Nathan!” along with a couple of embarrassing photos of him glued to the paper.

The woman at the gate announces to those waiting that the plane doors were beginning to open and the passengers would be out soon. Your heart raced anxiously, not only were you excited to see your husband after his amazing stint in Rio, but you had some news.

When the doors opened and people began to filter out, you spotted him instantly. Your heart warmed at how cuddly and snuggable he looked in his grey sweat pants and Nike jacket. You throw up the sign in your hands and shake it until he sees. When he sets his eyes on it he rolls his eyes playfully and smiles. Dropping the sign you immediately run to him to feel his arms around you, when he engulfs you in a loving hug you can’t believe how long you’ve gone without his touch and without his warmth.

Letting go of each other you look up at him, “I’m so happy your home.”

He gives you his beautiful big grin and places his hand on your stomach, “Me too. I missed you and this little one so much.”

“Actually about that… I have something I need to tell you.” At your words he takes a step back for you as if preparing himself for bad news, “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head with a smile, “No not at all. Her and I are just very proud of you.”

Nathan’s eyes widen, “Her?”

You give him a smile and nod. With that he picks you up and twirls you around in delight with word that you’re having a girl. He places his lips on yours and you can’t help but smile once again. You break apart, “I know we talked about waiting but it kind of just slipped out of the doctor’s mouth.”

“No, no. I’m glad you told me. Coming home to that and you makes those medals look like nothing.” He winks at you and grabs your hand. “I guess we have some more planning to do.”

He nods his head, “Right, but without a doubt she’s going to be the smartest girl at Berkeley.” At that you stop walking and cross your arms, “Nathan!”

He keeps walking and looks behind you, “Come on babe, don’t want to get left behind with that Stanford brain of yours.” Rolling your eyes you catch up with him and reach of his hand.

You both head out of the airport and home together discussing the retention rates of Berkley vs. Stanford and vice versa. You can’t help but feel as though giving up swimming for now was the best decision you could have made for what you were going to get in the future.


Sequel to Chemistry

Summary: Phil just hopes a box of heart shaped doughnuts can make his heart’s wish come true.

Word Count: 2,487

Warnings: some swear words, food

A/N: so sorry this took my so long! i wanted to write it to the best of my abilities! as always, tell me if i made a mistake or missed a warning

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a prayer for which no words exist - written by Eliane
By Organization for Transformative Works


“Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time.”

Author - Eliane          Tumblr - @cleminism

Chaptered - 8/8 - 34,313 words

Review - 10 out of 10 Larry Thumbs!!!

Wow. Just… wow.

This fic is incredible. It took my breath away and brought me to tears so many times. It’s somber and powerful, raw and filled with love. I really connected with Louis, and experiencing his journey through the story was so special.

At the heart of it, this fic is a character study. The author skillfully looks at what it means to be a part of war, to fight next to friends, and to fall in love during terrible circumstances. It’s fascinating, heartbreaking, and rewarding all at the same time.

This fic is truly a human story. The emotions and complexities of humanity play out in the foreground of dystopian New York City where there’s potential danger at every turn. Louis and Harry have each other to lean on throughout the journey, but the changes from “normal life” to “war life” are something they have to deal with on their own.

I can’t recommend this fic enough. Give it a read when you’re looking for something introspective and somber but also filled with love and compassion.

Harry Styles Imagine: The Interview

A/N: Imagine you’re working as an intern at a magazine, and they ask you to interview Harry for a section in the next issue of the magazine. 

You were on your way to your internship in Manhattan.  It was early in the morning, your boss had asked you to come in earlier than usual. You agreed to not knowing what to expect. 

“Hey Y/N, good morning!” Your boss, Mark, says as you walk into the office. 

“Hi, Mark. Good morning, how are you?”

“Doing well, hey I wanted to ask you. For today, we have a guest coming but Melissa is out sick. She usually takes care of this stuff. Would you mind running the interview today?”

“uhh–I don’t know If I–”

“It’s okay, it’s nothing big, you can totally run the interview whichever way, we just have a couple questions we’d like you to ask but you can take it from there. We just scheduled the interview for today and it’d be really difficult to reschedule.” 

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much! You’re a life saver. Here are the questions. The guest should be here any minute. Good luck!” 

“Thanks!” You replied, not really knowing what you were getting yourself into. You read through the questions, and they were mostly reference questions, and they didn’t even say who the person was. You got really nervous thinking about it because you’d never done anything aside from office work, or the usual coffee runs. You went over to seat at your desk and wait for the guest to arrive. 

“Y/N, Mr. Styles is here for the interview.” 

“Ah thanks!” You quickly get up and walk over to the conference room, without really paying attention to the name the receptionist mentioned. 

You walk in and notice him seating there, dressed in all black and scrolling through his phone. You felt a gasp leave your mouth as you realize that it’s Harry Styles. The Harry Styles from One Direction. It felt so surreal seeing him there, you couldn’t actually believe he was a real human being. You were a big fan of One Direction, but no one in the office knew as you tried to play it cool each time they were mention or there were reports written about them. 

“Uhm, hi!” You say trying to keep your cool, but freaking out inside. 

“Hello,” he says while getting up to greet you. 

“Are you ready for the interview, Mr. Styles?” You say while seating in front of him. 

“Please call me, Harry. What’s your name?” He says while smiling at you. 

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply. 

“What a lovely name.” 

“Thank you.” You smile at him. “You don’t mind if I record this?” You ask while pointing to the tape recorder on the table. 

“Not at all,” he says without breaking eye contact. 

You reach over to turn the tape recorder on, and for some reason you felt really self-conscious to be standing in front of him. But somehow there was something really calming about the way he smiled or how he’d laugh at something you’d say or a question he found funny. He was being sarcastic or trying to fit in a couple of jokes here and there. It was funny and you felt comfortable just talking to him. It made you forget that the same guy sitting in front of you had such a large following and so much power. He was very poise with his answers as well. He knew exactly what to say for everything, as he’d probably had to answer these questions more than once. 

The interview went by faster than you expected and as you reach the last question you feel a little sad that it’s over. You could have sat there and talked to him all day. Then suddenly you hear a knock on the door. 

“Harry, it’s time to go.” One of his security guards said through the door. 

“I’ll be in a minute,” he called out and the security guard nodded and left the room. “Looks like we’ve run out of time.” He says while grinning. 

“Thank you for coming today, I know you have a very busy schedule.” You add. 

“That’s okay, it was a pleasure getting to talk to you.” He says while looking directly into your eyes. You noticed that every time he’d say something, he never broke eye contact, and he was interested in knowing about you as well. But you didn’t really pay much attention to it as you’d thought he was like that with everyone he met. 

“Thank you so much, that’s really sweet. Here, I’ll walk you out.” You say while getting up but you noticed that he was still sitting down. 

“Wait, Y/N.” 


“I’m in the city for a couple more days, would mind grabbing coffee sometime?” He says with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. 

“Uh–,” you looked around the room not really knowing how to reply. And then you finally said, “Yeah sure, that’d be awesome.”

“Good!” He breaks into a big smile, the one where his eyes crinkled, and you noticed his dimples. He was so beautiful… 

“May I have your phone number?” He asks bringing you back from the trance that you were. 

“Uh–yes, of course.” He smiles again and hands you his phone number. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He says while getting up and reaching over to hug you but you awkwardly try to shake his hand. You didn’t know why you did that, maybe trying to keep it professional. You shake your head at your awkwardness. 

He chuckles and shakes your hand. You walk with him out of the door towards the elevator. And just like that he was gone. 

You head back into the conference room to gather the things you left in there and you noticed the red light on the tape recorder. You forgot to stop the recording! Now whoever gets to transcribe it is going to hear the conversation you had. 

As you head out, you notice Mark heading your way. 

“Hey how did the interview go?” He asked you. 

“It went really great!” 

“I’m glad to hear that! One more thing, would you mind transcribing it?” 

“Not at all!” You smile and head back to your desk. That was a close call.


“Hey… you okay?”

Neal looked concerned, and Emma realized that her cheeks must still be splotchy from crying. She hadn’t expected her talk with Regina to elicit that much emotion, as she had spent a great deal of her life burying everything she felt about her past in order to disconnect from it. As it turned out however, the trust she had in Regina must have broken the dam she had built, and once she began talking about it, everything rushed from her rather violently and unexpectedly.

Her loneliness, her lack of self-worth, her helplessness… it had crippled Emma as a child, so much more than the abuse she had been subjected to in a few of her foster homes. In the end, those wounds could heal; but the scars left on her heart would always be with her as long as she lived. It was why she had such a hard time forgiving her parents for giving her up; she felt like she couldn’t erase what was permanently etched on her soul. Being an orphan wasn’t just something that happened to her, it was a part of who she was. Without that, would she even be the same person anymore?

What was worse though, was that by the end of it all, Emma was starting to feel stupid for ever having offered to share that part of her life. By comparison, Regina’s own had been far shittier, and so it just felt to her like she was whining about stuff that barely even mattered. Regina however, at least seemed happy that she had chosen to talk about it, but maybe that was just because it steered the conversation away from her.

In the end though, it was probably for the best that Emma had shared what she did, because it at least allowed Regina to know more about her. For so long, the scales had been drastically uneven, so maybe this way they could at least start to feel like they were somewhat on the same level.

And if there was one thing they desperately needed in their relationship, it was to find a balance.


Anonymous requested:  Hi! I loved your story and the fact that my prompt amused you! I have a new suggestion: how about a story where Sheldon is so excited by the prospect of showing off for Amy (by solving a complicated equation for her, reaching high shelves in her lab, stuff like that) that he ends up making mistakes… Of course, Amy, smart and independent as she is, manages to save the day. The ending could be fluffy Shamy!

Sheldon was trying to get Amy’s attention, but she just said, “just a second,” and turned back to the story that Penny was telling about flirting with a doctor.  How could that possibly be better than his story about the comic book store?  He was hilarious.

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“… but sometimes you have to admit defeat.”

Beast Boy just stared at her, letting his head fall into his hands as he tried his best not laugh hysterically at Raven. She was trying to win a battle against a rogue straw, her lips and tongue chasing it around her glass as she desperately attempted to gulp down some much-needed water. She was two sheets to the wind and fading fast with every passing second. 

He couldn’t really be mad at her, mostly because that would just rile her up, and he wasn’t looking to start a fight with her tonight. And… to be perfectly honest with himself, she was kinda cute when she let her guard down and was just Raven. Although he certainly wished that her guard din’t have to come down like this. One too many drinks courtesy of Speedy and KF. He really needed to talk to those idiots. They were going to kill Raven one of these days, and Beast Boy couldn’t be around her 24/7. 

Raven whined and stared down into her glass, pouting. “Did the straw defeat me?”

Beast Boy snorted and reached across the kitchen island to hold the straw in place until she managed to wrap her mouth around it. She smiled and her lips brushed against his fingers with the movement. Biting back a yelp, he pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, eyes wide with surprise. Raven just smiled as she continued to sip on her water, keeping eye-contact with him as she continued to drain her glass. 

Beast Boy chuckled and patted her on the head. “Finish that up, and I’ll put you to bed, Rae.”

Her eyes widened and she set the glass down with a thunk, using the counter to steady her wobbling stature. A second ticked by as she stared at him with that strange, blank expression, and then another smile split her lips again. “You know…I think I like it when you call me ‘Rae’!”

Beast Boy blinked in surprise, coughing a little as his breath seemed to catch in his throat. “Really?”


Beast Boy smiled. Well, it was certainly a day for firsts. 


I guess this would be the next part in this fic series I’ve slowly developed about laundry. Yes, laundry. The first two parts can be found here but you can read this ficlet on its own. 

Ichabod Crane has to do some household chores in Abbie’s absence. 

After a few weeks, he began to miss more of the little things about the Abbie’s presence in their home. How she was so stubborn that she’d stand on the tips of her toes trying to reach something in a cabinet before asking for his help. How she would make that face when she said thank you as he handed her the out-of-reach item. How fast she’d remove her shoes when she got home from work. How she loved her bubble baths. How she’d always question why he was doing her laundry but never complain when it was all neatly folded and put away by the time she got home after a long day.

Crane had avoided looking in her laundry basket since she had… gone? In his considerable vocabulary there wasn’t a word for what happened to Abbie that he would accept as big enough to encompass what her loss meant to him. It was like trying to describe how a parent felt about their child. Love suddenly was no longer great enough of a word to show the proper depth of it.

Gone. Lost. Missing. None of those were sufficient. The word sacrifice was no longer big enough, either. She had done it too many times now for it to mean the same thing as it meant for ordinary people.

He stared at the dryer where their relationship changed directions oh so quickly not that long ago and realized that he had to face facts. He couldn’t leave her laundry piled up here forever. If they didn’t figure out how to find her, he would have to pack up all her possessions and find a new place to live and he knew it would be best to store freshly washed clothing.

Yet there was something sad about changing anything. Joe finally had to come over the previous weekend and clean out the refrigerator, run the dishwasher, and organize the giant collection of books Crane had amassed on the dining room table. He mentioned that he was pleased Crane had bothered to take out the trash but he had only done that because he knew Abbie loved her house smelling clean. He wasn’t sure he cared anymore whether the garbage piled up or not but if Abbie showed up tomorrow, he wanted her house to be somewhat tidy. Or at least smell somewhat like the cranberry-orange candle she had been burning at night before… it happened.

And she would need clean clothing. All her favorites were in that basket and he would have to deal with it. Just like she used to wash his one and only shirt over and over until it was too tattered to survive going through even the gentlest cycle one more time. He still had the scraps of old fabric tucked away somewhere because there really wasn’t much else to tie him to his past life. Now his present life was also in tatters.

He started the washing machine, filling it with cold water and pouring in her favorite detergent. She still liked the smell of Tide and it now made him think of her and the first time he found his way to her apartment. They hardly knew each other and were so uncertain of their mission then. He wasn’t unsure of how he felt about her – she was his Lieutenant and he knew that they were going to be tied together somehow for a very long time. Crane just didn’t imagine the day would come he’d be doing her laundry and she’d not be just a partner but sometimes his lover.

Crane watched the water get higher in the tub and watched bubbles form. The mundane, everyday things were going to be the end of him yet. He sorted through her clothes and put all the dark pieces in the machine and shut the lid, listening to it as it started the next cycle. It was then he spied the sheer camisole peeking out of her basket of hand washables.

This damn thing. He held it between his fingers, feeling the soft fabric. He brought it up to his nose and breathed in deep. It smelled like her. Like them. She had worn it a few times now, when they would spend the night together in her bed. Then she suddenly put a halt to that and suggested he go out on dates with other women and he knew she was trying to guard her heart from falling too far too fast. They hadn’t been intimate for a few weeks when she did what she did to save Jenny. Maybe she was trying to protect him, too, knowing one more loss would be the end of him. As if losing her at any point would have been acceptable.

Crane sat on the floor with his back to the dryer and continued to stare at her camisole, fighting hard to keep the tears from flowing. He had to find her. He had to get her back. That was the only thing that would be acceptable.