and one of my best friends was a marine

Marines Ch36 Preview

I’m a terrible person who doesn’t have time to respond to inbox messages until, like, probably Sunday, if I want to get this finished before the end of the week (given tomorrow is LawLu day)

In other news, I changed Law and Sabo’s introduction to one another.

“And where are my manners? I am Sabo, Ri’s best friend and the Revolutionary Army’s Chief of Staff.”


Law can’t quite stop his jaw from falling open, no matter how hard he tries to prevent it, how hard he tries to stop his face from expressing his displeasure.

His eyes snap over to look at Ris, who delicately shrugs her shoulders, turning her attention elsewhere to happily accept the fruit juice the waitress offers her.

A glass of red wine is placed before the fucking Revolutionary Army’s Chief of Staff, while the town’s signature beer is presented to both Law and Ermine. 

Ermine who is staring at the blond male with something like awe and something that is unquestionably attraction in his eyes.

“I told you I wasn’t with the marines,” Ris murmurs quietly, and no fucking wonder.

A bloody Revolutionary.

They have to have some way of ensuring the silence of those around them, or of ensuring they’re not overheard. Law highly doubts they’d speak so openly on this if not.

Regaining his composure comes naturally, despite the internal turmoil of ‘what the fuck is going on with his life’. Every time he interacts with anyone who boasts ties to the Grand Line, or has been to the Grand Line, or has the intention of going to the Grand Line… It all ends up just like this.

It all ends up with Law’s life no longer making any fucking sense.

“Not being with the marines, and then being an active part of the Revolutionary Army fighting against the Tenryūbito are two very different things, Ris-ya.”

3:00 a.m. - Jason DiLaurentis

Requested by anonymous. I don’t know why I can’t write longer stories anymore. I’m sorry that it’s a little short

“I’m gonna do it,” you slurred, trying to stand up. The girls started giggling, laughing at the fact that you could hardly stand up. 

“No you’re not. You’ll embarrass yourself,” Spencer said, trying to put a hand on your shoulder to steady you. 

“How do I look?” you asked, flipping your hair and looking in the mirror. 

“For being absolutely tanked, you look pretty great,” Hanna said with a wink.You smiled and began picking your boots up off of Spencer’s barn floor. You slipped them on and fixed your hair before turning back to the girls.

“You are going to regret this in the morning, ya know?” Emily said.

“Probably but hey we’re young and I’m just drunk enough that I probably won’t remember what I said.” The girls shook their heads but let you leave anyway. You don’t even remember bringing up Jason, but after he was brought up, you couldn’t forget him. You and Jason had been friends since you had met Ali, and after she disappeared, the two of you had grown closer. You could always tell there was a spark between the two of you, but you never knew if he felt the same way.

However there was an incident about a month ago between the two of you that had made you think that he might feel the same way. He showed up at your door, upset about something with his family. He was complaining about his family, tears in his eyes when he suddenly grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. He laid you back on the couch and passionately kissed you, exploring every part of your body. After that night, though, you hadn’t talked to Jason since.

You walked to the DiLaurentis’s and climbed up on the porch. You rang the bell three times, but nobody answered. You sat down on the porch, trying to keep yourself from throwing up.

“Y/N?” You looked up at a sleepy Jason and realized how ill thought out your plan really was. You looked at your phone and saw it was 3:00 in the morning. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry I woke you,” you said, sanding up and getting ready to go back to the barn. He touched your arm and made you turn towards him.

“I assume you didn’t come over here for nothing. What did you want?” You sighed and sat down on the steps. He sat down next to you and looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“We had sex.” Jason looked at you, searching your face before letting out a laugh. “What?”

“I know we did. I was there.”

“Okay then why have you acted like nothing happened? You haven’t spoken to me at all since then. Is this the end of our friendship? Was I really that bad?”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because! I was hoping that after what happened we would start a different relationship. I wouldn’t have slept with you unless I thought it would change what we are.” You looked at Jason who wasn’t saying anything, urging him to say something.

“That wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t thinking then. And no, you weren’t bad at all.”

“So you choose to ignore me after that? That’s really unfair, Jason.”


“Don’t. I know I’m not as beautiful as Ashley Marin, or fun as CeCe Drake. But I mean I’ve got some good qualities, right? I mean I’m pretty good at making a fool of myself. Ya now, like right now?” Jason laughed and stood up. 

“You are twice the woman Ashley and CeCe are. No one can make me laugh like you do. You’re one of my best friends, and I don’t want to ruin any of that. What happened between us was great, but I think it was a mistake. You’re too drunk to talk right now. You should go home.” You felt your heart sink. So Jason didn’t want to be anything more than friends. In all honesty you didn’t care, you just wanted him to be your friend again.

“I’m too drunk to go home.”


“Okay, okay. I’ll go. And please, forget about this conversation. I didn’t mean anything I said. We’re still friends. I love you. Goodbye,” you stumbled, walking back to Spencer’s barn. As soon as you got in there, you started laughing about what just happened.

“How did it go?” Aria asked as you curled up on the couch.

“Honestly, not great. But my head hurts too much to talk about this.”

You woke up the next morning to the sound of tapping on a window. You sat up in bed and walked outside, following the noise. You turned to the side of the barn and saw Jason tapping on the window in a plaid shirt and jeans.

“Jason?” you asked groggily.

“Sucks being woken up doesn’t it?”

“I’m really sorry about that,” you said with a laugh.

“Don’t be. I was being a jerk. I should have talked to you after we slept together.”

“Jason, really it’s fine. We don’t have to do this now.”

“No, we should. I don’t regret anything we did. The only thing I regret is how shitty I acted towards you. You are one of the funniest, most beautiful, sexiest women I have ever met. I have enjoyed every moment I have ever spent with you.”

“You really don’t have to say any of this.”

“I know, but I want to. I think what happened between us was bad timing. I’m interested to see where this takes us. So I would like to try again. Once you sober up.”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“And you’re still still hungover. To be fair, I like drunk and sober you, but I love sober you. Let’s try this at another time,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“Okay. Goodbye, Jason,” you said, smiling on your way back into the barn.

“The military is mostly filled with people who genuinely desire to do the right thing. More Marines receive the Medal of Honor for jumping on grenades than any other action. It’s a culture where officers eat last and everyone shares their water. These people grew up as boy scouts and girl scouts. The whole reason they volunteered was because they wanted to do the right thing. But the right thing is never clear in war. If you shoot too early, an innocent person gets killed. If you shoot too late, you lose a buddy. So a lot of our injuries are moral ones. Most of us come home feeling like we did something wrong. Or we didn’t give enough. Or that our friends gave too much. My best friend in the Marines was a guy named Ronnie Winchester. He was the nicest guy you can imagine. My 22nd birthday was during our officer training course. None of us had slept. We were all starving. We were only getting one ration per day. But Ronnie wanted to give me a memorable birthday. So he put a candle in his brownie and gave it to me. That’s how nice of a guy he was. Ronnie ended up getting killed in Iraq. And if a guy like Ronnie got killed, you can’t help but wonder why you deserve to be alive. Ronnie was 25 years old when he died. He is always going to be 25 years old. I have a wife and kids now. I get to grow old. But Ronnie Winchester is always going to be 25.”

5 Movies to watch this Valentines

Valentine’s Day is coming up! And most probably I will be camping myself infront of the screen and hold a movie marathon while eating some delicious snacks because I don’t have a special date. But instead I’ll be celebrating love with either my family or friends simply by watching the films below.

LOVE, ROSIE. Rosie and Alex have been best friends since they were 5, so they couldn’t possibly be right for one another…or could they? When it comes to love, life and making the right choices, these two are their own worst enemies.

THE LUCKY ONE. A Marine travels to Louisiana after serving three tours in Iraq and searches for the unknown woman he believes was his good luck charm during the war.

THEORY OF EVERYTHING. The relationship between the famous physicist Stephen Hawking and his wife.

THE BEST OF ME. A pair of former high school sweethearts reunite after many years when they return to visit their small hometown

ENDLESS LOVE. The story of a privileged girl and a charismatic boy whose instant desire sparks a love affair made only more reckless by parents trying to keep them apart.

Photos | , Texts | www.

Tables Turn


Number Prompts

Shawn Mendes x Reader

“Kevin stop it!” You laugh hysterically as one of your best friends zooms in on a photo of you two from when you were five. 

“I think your glasses are bigger than your ears!” Kevin laughs as he recreates your reaction in the photo. 

“I think this photo was taken in one of the best years of my life.” You sigh and smile. 

“Why is that?” Kevin asks. 

“That was the year that we went to the Hannah Montana concert  and met her backstage!” You reminisce. 

“And that was the year that the new playground opened across the street!” He laughs.

“I missed having you home.” You sigh as you rest your head on Kevin’s shoulder. 

“Eh-ehm.” Someone clears their throat behind you. 

You turn your head and immediately your eyes glow at the sight in front of you. 

“Shawn!” You cheer as you practically leap over the back of the couch. Shawn stands with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. His black duffle bag sits on the ground beside him and his face is blank. 

You run to hug him and wrap your arms around his muscular torso. He doesn’t hug you back. You lean away from him and ask, “You okay?”

“What the hell is going on?” Shawn asks. 

“What do you mean?” You reply confused.

“I spend 6 hours on a plane out of my 72 hour break to see you I have 48 hours before I have to leave again.” Shawn says. 

“And I’m so happy that you came to spend time with me!” You smile.

“And I come in to see you getting comfortable with some other guy!” Shawn yells.

“Are you kidding me this is Kev-” You begin but Shawn cuts you off.

“I dont care who he is! He has no business touching you!” Shawn interrupts. 

You turn to Kevin and whisper, “I am so sorry, but I think you should go. I will call you later I promise.” He nods and walkout the door without another word.

“No you will not call him!” Shawn yells.

“I will if I want to!” You yell.

“No. You can’t, you just can’t.” Shawn whisper-yells.

“I can do whatever I want to do! You can not control me.” You yell and then your voice softens, “I am yours… but you do not own me.”

“Honestly I can’t believe it when you tell me ‘I am yours’ after I walk in on you groping another man.” Shawn whispers.

“I was not groping him.” You whine.

“Two years (Y/N). Does two years mean anything to you?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course these past two years have meant something to me. These have been the best two years of my life, full of love and passion.” You smile as you place your hands on the sides of Shawn’s arms.

“You just said you had your best year with the mystery man.” Shawn says as he backs away from you.

“The mystery man?” You scoff, “The mystery man is no mystery. It’s Kevin, my best friend from childhood. The Marine. The one who has been stationed in Europe for the past two years.” 

“You still shouldn’t be so close to him!” Shawn yells.

“HE IS GAY!” You scream on the top of your lungs. Almost immediately Shawn’s face softens.

“I didn’t know…” Shawn begins.

“You did know, you were just being too insanely enraged over nothing, to remember how many times I have spoken to you about Kevin.” You state firmly. 

“I’m sorry I just-”

“No” you begin, “No apologizing. I would never do that to you, not in a million years. I would never give up what we have for something so petty and wrong. You are more important to me than anyone in this world and the fact that you so quickly accused me of something like this…is just plain hurtful. I guess I thought that you thought more of me.”

“I do, I do I promise you I do!” Shawn pleads.

“Just go.” You whisper, you can’t even look him in the eye.

“(Y/N) I-” Shawn begins but you interrupt him.

“Shawn please just go.” You whisper once again. Tears run down your cheeks as you turn around. You can even face him at this point so you just sit on the couch and cry. You sink your head into your hands and think about the craziness that just occurred. “Shawn I…” You begin, but when you turn around there is nobody there. The duffle bag is gone and there is practically no trace of Shawn even being there in the first place. 

Instead of staring at that same spot you decide to go up to your room to wallow in your own sadness. You end up crying until you fall asleep. 

The sound of your cell phone ringing in your hand wakes you up from your slumber. You can hear the heavy rain pattering on the roof. Usually this would calm you, but unfortunately you remembered the events of the past few hours. As you look at your phone a photo of Kevin and you was on the screen from when you were 6. 

“Hi.” You answer your phone.

“Hey.” Kevin says, “You okay?”

“Um… not really,” You begin, “I don’t even know what happened with him. Its just like a switch turned and he had gone crazy.”

“Did you tell him I’m gay?” Kevin asks with a bit of a laugh.

“Yeah I did and he didn’t react much to it.” You begin, “I just don’t think I can trust him if he can’t trust me.”

“(Y/N) its Shawn.” Kevin says, “I may have not had the best first reaction with him, but the way that you speak to me about him. You are so lucky, sooo lucky to have found someone like him and a relationship like the two of you had.”

“You know what Kev I have to go.” You whisper. You hang up and decide to go downstairs to grab a glass of water. As you pass by the front door you can see a familiar figure standing in drive way.

You pause a moment before you sigh and open the door, “What are you doing?” You yell over the pounding of the rain.

“Contemplating whether or not I should come in.” Shawn yells back.

“Why?” You ask.

“I think if I come in you might punch me.” Shawn yells.

“Who said I would even let you in in the first place?” You yell while you step down the stairs of your front door. Immediately the rain begins to soak your hair. 

Once you stand close enough to him he whispers, “Your eyes are puffy.” He then realizes that your eyes were puffy because of him.

Just to let it burn you say, “Because of you.”

“I never want to hear you say that again.” Shawn says in sorrow because he never wants to hurt you like that again. Also it sounds worse when you actually say it compared to Shawn just thinking it. 

“You need to fight for me.” You begin, “You shouldn’t have yelled at me when you saw Kevin. He is one of my good friends and he is gay. There is no problem with him." 

"I’m sorry I just saw the army uniform and I-” Shawn begins but you cut him off.  

“No. No excuses.” You say, at this point you are completely soaked and you can no longer decipher what is tears and what is just rain. “I love you more than anything in his world Shawn. I love you as much as I love my family. I honestly don’t think I could live without you. It’s so cliche but it’s true. I would never be able to live without you. I think about getting married and having kids and when I think about the future all I think about is you. Do you think I would ever jeopardize what we have for some stupid guy? I’m not that low and if that is how you think of me then maybe this isn’t the relationship I think it is." 

"I only got mad because I never want you touching another guy. you are mine and nobody else’s and I see our future too. I want it so badly that I’m not going to let you get close to anyone because i get nervous that when I’m gone you are out meeting other guys.” Shawn says with his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m allowed to have guy friends. You can’t always shelter me from things like that. You just have to trust me and believe that I am yours and I’m not going to do anything.” You cry. 

Shawn sighs in relief and says, “You said your mine." 

"Yeah but you are on a thin line.” You say. You still can’t decide whether or not you should kiss him. you are fully resisting the urge because you haven’t kissed him in a month. 

“I will do anything for you to let me make this up to you.” Shawn says. “Yeah fine.” You give a small smile. 

Shawn smiles wider than you have ever seen him smile before saying, “(Y/N) I promise I will-”

“Shut up.” You interrupt him and crash your lips onto his. You place your hands on his cheeks and pull him closer to you. He wraps his arms around your lower back. After a few sweet seconds you pull away and say, “Welcome home." 

"Fuck I missed you.” Shawn said before he pulled you in for one more kiss.

“I’m soaked!” You laugh.

“Well there’s a problem I can fix.” Shawn whispers.

“Shut up!” You laugh. You take his hand and say, “Come on let’s go get changed.”

“I’m not gonna wear your clothes you know.” Shawn remarks.

“You do remember that I have an entire drawer of your clothes that you have left behind right?” You laugh.

“I love you.” Shawn smiles.

Rowaelin Discussion Post

Subject: Abuse? 

I’ve seen a lot of posts suddenly comparing Rowan to Tamlin, calling Rowan abusive, dragging the Rowaelin ship and even received a rather upset anon message about it so here’s the another book analysis since the first two were so well received x x

The main reasons I see people calling Rowan ‘abusive’ are a) He punched Aelin in HoF and b) He bit Aelin in HoF. Based on these complaints I will analyze Rowan and Aelin’s relationship development as well as various friendships in the ToG series. Let’s take a look. 

Rowan Whitethorn is first introduced in Heart of Fire. He spent days in his hawk form watching Celaena Sardothein get drunk, start fights, brawl, and pass out. Why?

“Well, here was one of Maeve’s elite warriors.” p. 15

“I’m taking you where you’ve been summoned.” p. 17

Rowan Whitethorn, a Prince of Doranelle and soldier bound to Maeve by his blood oath, was sent by the Dark Queen to retrieve Aelin and bring her to Doranelle. 

“Talking to anyone was too taxing. Which made Rowan the perfect companion: he didn’t say a single word to her.” p. 35

“You shall come to me once Prince Rowan decides you have mastered your gifts. He shall train you here.” p. 58

Rowan followers orders - because he has no choice. He was told to bring Aelin to Mistward, he does. He was told to train Aelin to use her gifts, he does. Because he is bound to this oath by blood. There’s a passage in QoS, when Aelin is fighting Manon and she commands Rowan to run - a command with the force of the blood oath behind it, which he was forced to obey. These are the kinds of commands he receives from Maeve and must follow. Gods knows he doesn’t want to be here.

“And then she said one of the foulest things she’d ever uttered in her life, bathing in the pure hate of it. “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.” 
Faster than she could sense, faster than anything had a right to be, he punched her.” 
She shifted enough to keep her nose from shattering but took the blow on her mouth. She hit the wall, whacked her head, and tasted blood. Good.
He struck again with that immortal speed - or would have. But with equally unnerving swiftness, he halted his second blow before it fractured her jaw and snarled in her face, low and vicious.
Her breathing turned ragged as she purred, “Do it.” 
He looked more interested in ripping out her throat than in talking, but he held the line he’d drawn. “Why should I give you what you want?” 
“You’re just as useless as the rest of your brethren.” 
He let out a soft, lethal laugh raked claws down her temper. “If you’re that desperate to eat stone, go ahead: I’ll let you try to land the next punch.”
She knew better than to listen. But there was such a roar in her blood that she could no longer see right, think right, breathe right. So she damned the consequences to hell as she swung.” p. 62

“Next time you say anything like that,” he said without looking over his shoulder, “I’ll have you chopping wood for a month.” p. 63

“Everyone pulls their weight here. Princesses included. No one’s above some hard labor, least of all you.”
And didn’t she have the scars to prove it. Not that she’d tell him that. She didn’t know what she’d do if he learned about Endovier and mocked her for it - or pitied her. “So my training includes being a scullery maid?”
“Part of it.” Again she could have sworn she could read the unspoken words in his eyes: And I’m going to savor every damn second of your misery.
“For an old bastard, you certainly haven’t bothered to learn manners at any point in your long existence.” Never mind that he looked to be in his late twenties.
“Why should I waste flattery on a child who’s already in love with herself?” p. 64

“Lashing out at Rowan like that, saying the things she did, trying to fight with him… She’d deserved that punch. More than deserved it. If she was being honest with herself, she was barely passable as a human being these days.” p. 65

First off, I’d like to point out that both before and after the brawl, Celaena recognizes that what she says is awful. She recognizes that trying to fight is stupid - she just doesn’t care because she’s at such a low point in her life. 

Not that Rowan knows that. She keeps that to herself, which she has every right to do. But he’s clearly not getting a complete picture of her character. Based on what information he has, she’s spoiled and selfish and never fought for anything - least of all her kingdom or her people. 

So the next day, her training begins. 

Because that’s what Rowan and Aelin’s relationship is in HoF. He. Is. Training Her. Train to shift, train to control the magic. Train to enter Doranelle and prove to Maeve she’s ready so she can get the information she needs. Nobody is forcing Celaena to stay - she has the option to leave any time she wants. But she made a deal. Master her powers, get her answers. 

Note: Feyre never had that kind of freedom with Tamlin. She could have left, but he would have left her family destitute. 

“She swore at him, a filthy, foul name, and spat at his feet. And that’s when he bit her.” p. 158

Alright so as far as training goes, Rowan only asks her to shift. No shift, no magic practice. No shift, no Doranelle. She has to has to shift. But she doesn’t, so they sit, and they wait. 

Until she calls him a filthy foul name and spits at him. That’s what leads to the bite. 

Now, there are a few other things Rowan says in this chapter that are pretty shitty (i.e., “why don’t I just give you the lashing you deserve?” “you’re worthless.” “you would probably have been more useful to the world if you’d actually died ten years ago.”) but remember: 

Rowan is not her friend, Rowan is not her lover. He is a soldier instructing another soldier. A highly disrespectful and insubordinate soldier at that. It’s not like army authorities can be coddling and gentle when training new recruits, or with rebellious recruits. It’s a training technique. Maybe not the best one but I bet you my life that it was how he himself was trained. Plus, think of all the shit marines and army personnel go through. Its for a reason, not just for shits.

“Is this what you do? Run away when things get hard?” p. 163

Because that’s the impression he currently has of her. And it’s not like anyone is correcting him. 

“Have you ever had to fight for anything in your life?”
She let out a low, bitter laugh and walked faster, veering westward, not caring about the direction as much as getting away from him. But he kept up easily, his long, heavily muscled legs devouring the mossy ground. “You’re proving me right with every step you take.” 
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t know what you want from Maeve - what answers you’re looking for, but you - “
“You don’t know what I want from her?” It was more of a shout than a question. “How about saving the world from the King of Adarlan?” 
“Why bother? Maybe the world’s not worth saving.” She knew he meant it, too. those lifeless eyes spoke volumes.
“Because I made a promise. A promise to my friend that I would see her kingdom freed.” She shoved her scarred palm into his face. “I made an unbreakable vow. And you and Maeve - all you gods damned bastards - are getting in the way of that.” She went off down the hillside again. He followed. 
“And what of your own people? What of your own kingdom?” 
“They are better off without me, just as you said.”
His tattoo scrunched as he snarled. “So you’d save another land, but nor yours.” p. 164

And yet, he saves her from the skin walkers. They open up a little. 

“Was it you,” Rowan said quietly, but not gently, “or someone else?”
“I was too late. He didn’t survive.” p. 175

This - these two mentions of her dead friends - is the first time Rowan even gets an inkling that Celaena Sardothien the Assassin’s life might have been more harrowing than superfluous. I’m not talking about Aelin Galathynius - we all know what she lost - but Rowan knows she’s been Celaena for a decade to hide from who she used to be. It would make sense that her new identity would be a means of shielding herself from horror. He can’t possibly know it was ineffective. 

“They passed another two sentries. This time, she looked them both in the eye and smiled her greeting.” p. 204

“He gave her a look that said I let you bait me, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not some mortal fool. She wanted to ask why, but being cordial with him - with anyone - was already odd enough.” p. 205-206

Well that’s the first time in a long time she has smiled - she’s getting a little better, if slowly. 

He notices that she has a profound respect for other people - when she insists on burning the body of the woman the Valg destroyed. 

“Rowan didn’t say anything as she gathered kindling and branches and then knelt, trying not to look at the shriveled skin or the expression of lingering horror. 
Neither did he mock her for the few times it took to get the fire started by hand, or make any snide comments once the pine needles finally crinkled and smoked, ancient incense for a rudimentary pyre. Instead, as she stepped from the rising flames, she felt him come to tower behind her, felt the surety and half wildness of him wrap around her like a phantom body. A warm breeze licked at her hair, her face. Air to help the fire; wind that helped consume the corpse.” p. 209

Then he takes her to the healers commune - something she actually enjoys and has wanted to do since she was a child. He even enlists her help with the Valg bodies by taking her to the village. 

“But I need your help. It’ll be easier for the mortals to talk to you.” p. 233

NOTE: IF YOU FOR ONE SECOND THINK OF COMPARING ROWAN TO TO TAMLIN, HERE IS YOUR FIRST RED LIGHT. You think Tamlin would admit to needing Feyre’s help? You think he would for one second bring her out to help him in any task? Now pay attention because there will be more of this later. 

“He was standing in front of her now, a wild invitation in his eyes. She’d been studying the way he moved, his tricks and tells, the way he assumed she’d react. So when she crossed her arms, feigning the tantrum he expected, she waited. Waited, ad then - 
He shot left to pinch or poke or hit her, and she whirled, slamming down his arm with an elbow and whacking him upside the head with her other hand. He stopped dead and blinked a few times. she smirked at him. 
He bared his teeth in a feral, petrifying grin. “Oh you’d better run now.” 
When he lunged, she shot through the trees.” p. 235 - 236

Look. All the poking and prodding is mainly a technique to get her to react, to fight for something - for herself. The initial punch and bite were because she said goddamn shitty things to him. And were the situation reversed and someone uttered those words to her, you bet your ass she would have done just the same. 

And you know what? There’s proof of that. Remember Celaena’s relationship with Lysandra in The Assassin’s Blade? At the beginning of Queen of Shadows? Celaena literally throws a dagger at Lysandra’s head. Threatens to kill her - seriously considers killing her. There’s even mention of them throwing each other down the stairs when they were younger (in the scene at the dinner table with Arobynn in QoS). 

Because they weren’t friends at that point. They were forced into each other’s company. Which is exactly how Rowan and Aelin start out - except, let me say it again, he was forced to be there to train her because of the command from the queen he was bound to by blood. So if you can call Rowan abusive you might as well say the same of Celaena. 

Then there’s the incident with Gavriel and the tattoo. 

“Yes, she had certainly walked in on something private.” p. 274

“Do you do it for the money?”
A flicker of teeth. “One, it’s none of your business. And two, I would never stoop so low.” The look he gave her told her exactly what he thought of her profession.
“You know, it might be better if you just slapped me instead.”
“Instead of what?”
“Instead of reminding me again and again how rutting worthless and awful and cowardly I am. Believe me, I can do the job well enough on my own. So just hit me, because I’m damned tired of trading insults. And you know what? You didn’t even bother to tell me you’d be unavailable. If you’d said something, I never would have come. I’m sorry I did. But you just left me downstairs.”
Saying those last words made a sharp, quick panic rise up in her, an aching pain that had her throat closing. “You left me,” she repeated. “Maybe it was only out of blind terror at the abyss opening up again around her, but she whispered, “I have no one left. No one.” 
She hadn’t realized how much she meant it, how much she needed it not to be true, until now.
His features remained impassive, turning vicious, even, as he said, “There is nothing I can give you. Nothing I want to give you. You are not owed an explanation for what I do outside of training. I don’t care what you’ve been through or what you want to do with your life. The sooner you can sort out your whining and self-pity, the sooner I can be rid of you. You are nothing to me, and I do not care.” p. 275

Obviously, not one of his finer moments, but take a look at his own thoughts on it the next morning. 

“The girl was nowhere to be seen, and for a heartbeat, he hoped she’d left again, if only so he didn’t have to face what he’d said yesterday.” p. 279

Remember that Rowan’s pain and self loathing comes from the fact that he had left his mate to go campaigning for Maeve. He left her. Imagine him berating himself day and night for two hundred years and seven months for leaving her, and then this girl says those same exact words to him with such pain in her eyes. He hates himself for it as much as Celaena hates herself for the things she said to Nehemia. 

“What do you see when you look at her, Prince?”
He didn’t know. These days, he didn’t know a damn thing. “That’s none of your concern either.”
Emrys ran a hand over his weathered face. “I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up.” 
I don’t see why I would be of any use to -
“Did you know that Evalin Ashryver was my friend? She spent almost a year working in this kitchen - living here with us, fighting to convince your queen that demi-Fae have a place in your realm. She fought for our rights until the very day she departed this kingdom - and the many years after, until she was murdered by those monsters across the sea. So I knew. I knew who her daughter was the moment you brought her into this kitchen. All of us who were here twenty-five years ago recognized her for what she is.” 
It wasn’t often that he was surprised, but… Rowan just stared.
“She has no hope, Prince. She has no hope left in her heart. Help her. If not for her sake, then at least for what she represents - what she could offer all of us, you included.”
“And what is that?” he dared ask.
Emrys met his gaze unflinchingly as he whispered, “A better world.” p. 280

He already knows what he said was awful. He already doesn’t know how he feels about her, but it’s so much easier to pretend she means nothing. I mean, nothing has mattered to him for more than 200 years since Lyria has died - changing that is like cracking a boulder in two. It’s hard, and it’s a permanent change. No going back. He’s already said once that the people you love are just weapons that can be held against you. I imagine he’s fighting like hell to not care about her because he knows the truth of that all too well. 

And he doesn’t see how he could be any use to her - because he already has such a low opinion of himself. He couldn’t help Lyria, why could he help Aelin? And yet…

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Good. Because we’re going.”
Bastard. She called him as much, and then asked, “Going where?”
He smiled grimly. “I think I’ve started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius.” p. 281

I always wondered what this meant. But I think I get it now. Rowan sees himself in her. After what Emrys said about being hopeless, about needing someone, he sees that. They are both so, so low. 

They’ve both lost the people who meant the most to them. 

They’ve both been molded as soldiers and weapons their whole lives.

They’ve both been forced to serve cruel, unfathomably awful monarchs. 

They both hate themselves. 

“Please,” she panted, not caring that she was begging. “Please don’t bring anyone else into it. I will do anything you ask of me. But that is my line. Anything else but that.”
His eyes were veiled as he finally let go over her arms. She gazed up at the canopy. She would not cry in front of him, not again. 
He peeled back, the space between them now a tangible thing. “How did she die?”
She let the moisture against her back seep into her, cool her bones. “She manipulated a mutual acquaintance into thinking he needed to kill her in order to further his agenda. He hired an assassin, made sure I wasn’t around, and had her murdered. 

“What happened to the two men?” A cold question.
“The assassin I hunted down and left in pieces in an alleyway. And the man who hired him…” Blood on her hands, on her clothes, in her hair, Chaol’s horrified stare. “I gutted him and dumped his body in a sewer.” 
They were two of the worst things she’d done, out of pure hatred and vengeance and rage. She waited for the lecture. But Rowan merely said, “Good.” p. 294

Alright this is important. Chaol’s horror sticks with her. She worries about what she did - even if it was totally justified - because of what he thinks of her for doing it. Even in QoS he says that killing Grave and Archer makes her a monster. Dorian isn’t a monster because he never did those things, even if he does have magic. But she has that blood on her hands. Monster.

And here’s Rowan, saying GOOD. Good that you killed the ones that killed your friend. Because he understands that. He understands that rage. And he’s done the same exact thing to the men who hurt his mate. 

“She was so surprised that she looked at him - and saw what she had done. Not his already bruised and bleeding face, or his ripped jacket and shirt, now muddy. But right where she’d gripped his forearms, the clothes were burned through, the skin beneath covered in angry red welts. 
Handprints. She’d burned right through the tattoo on his left arm. She was on her feet in an instant, wondering if she should be on her knees begging for forgiveness instead.
It must have hurt like hell. Yet he had taken it - the beating, the burning - while she let out those words that had clouded her senses for so many weeks now. “I am… so sorry,” she started, but he held up a hand. 
“You do not apologize,” he said, “for defending the people you care about.” p. 294 - 295

“She tossed the salve to him. “I thought you might want this.” 
He caught it with one hand, but his eyes remained on her. “I deserved it.” p. 301

“When my mate died, it took me a very, very long time to come back.”
It took her a moment to think of what to say. “How long ago?” 
“Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago.” He gestured to the tattoo on his face, neck, arms. “This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I’ll carry until my last breath.” 

“Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war. I left her alone,” he said, and again looked at Celaena. 
You left me, she had said to him. That was when he’d snapped - the wounds of centuries ago rising up to swallow him as viciously as her own past consumed her.” 

“How - how did you come back from that kind of loss?”
“I didn’t. For a long while I couldn’t. I think I’m still… not back. I might never be.”
She nodded, lips pressed tight, and glanced toward the window. 
“But maybe,” he said, quietly enough that she looked at him again. He didn’t smile, but his eyes were inquisitive. “Maybe we could find the way back together.”
He would not apologize for today, or yesterday, or any of it. And she would not ask him to, not now that she understood that in the weeks she had been looking at him it had been like gazing at a reflection. No wonder she had loathed him.
“I think,” she said, barely more than a whisper, “I would like that very much.” 
He held out a hand. “Together, then.”
She studied the scarred, callused palm, then the tattooed face, full of a grim sort of hope. Someone who might - who did understand what it was like to be crippled at your very core, someone who was still climbing inch by inch out of that abyss.
Perhaps they would never get out of it, perhaps they would never be whole again, but… “Together,” she said, and took his outstretched hand.
And somewhere far and deep inside her, and ember began to glow.” p. 304 - 305

Imma just let Aelin’s words speak for themselves here. 

Now, let me just point out another contrasting characteristic between Tamlin and Rowan. When Tamlin says he will change, he has seen his mistakes, he does not change. He tries for a day or two and then gets worse. He never helped Feyre with her post traumatic stress or depression or anxiety. He preferred to work on his own, and ignored her cries for help. Rowan on the other hand, when he sees he can make a difference, he can be better, he makes it his mission and he and Aelin make it through their depression together

“Give me one good reason why you won’t take back your throne. One good reason, and I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.”
She weighed the earnestness in his gaze, his breathing, and then said, “Because if I free Eyllwe and destroy the king as Celaena, I can go anywhere after that. The crown… my crown is just another set of shackles.”
… She waited for the scolding, saw it simmering in Rowan’s eyes. But then he quietly said, “What do you mean, another set of shackles?” p. 339

He asks her questions about her life before, why she stayed with Arobynn - he wants to learn more. Because he knows he made a mistake and wants to work harder. But he never pries, never pushes for information, even when he knows she’s telling half truths. 

“Sometimes they would talk. Well, she would make him talk, because after telling him about Aedion and her own selfish wish for freedom, she decided that talking was… good. Even if she wasn’t able to open up about some things, she liked hearing Rowan speak.” p. 354

“He spoke very little of his friends, who sometimes accompanied him on his journeys.” p. 354

“She didn’t fail to notice how quickly they looked away when they beheld Rowan at her side. Though she did catch a few females looking at him with far warmer interest. She wanted to claw their faces off for it.” p. 355

“Gods, she had no interest in him like that, and she was certain he had no inclination to take her to his bed, either. Maybe it was just from spending so much time in her Fae body that she felt… territorial. Territorial and grumpy and mean. Last night she had growled at a female in the kitchen who would not stop staring at him and had actually taken a step toward him as if to say hello.” p. 356

Until QoS I thought this was just proof of their friendship, like how two similar people could grow to care about each other in a platonic way. They were totally my brotp. But then I read QoS, and then I read ACOMAF, and I started to wonder… Feyre had no warm feelings for Rhys at the start of ACOMAF, even if they were meant to be mates, even if they were mates at the time. It also mentioned that Rhys’s parents weren’t good for each other, even if they were mates. I think it’s possible that Rowan and Aelin might already have had some mating effects even this early on… just a thought. But it’s clear that, instinctually, they’re protective and territorial of each other a little over half way through HoF.

Then came Beltane.

“She didn’t hear what else was said, heard nothing but the pounding - pounding of that forge under her skin. There was a grunt and a hiss, and then she was in Rowan’s arms, bouncing against his chest as he hurtled through the woods.” p. 360

“I’m going to check on the tonic. I’ll be back soon.” He left once she’d nodded again. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was fussing. Worried, even.” p. 363

“His breath caught, harsh enough that she looked over her shoulder. But his eyes weren’t on her face. Or the water. They were on her back.
Curled as she was against her knees, he could see the whole expanse of ruined flesh, each scar from the lashings. “Who did that to you?”
It would have been easy to lie, but she was so tired, and he had saved her useless hide. So she said, “A lot of people. I spent some time in the Salt Mines of Endovier.” 
He was so still that she wondered if he’d stopped breathing. “How long?” he asked after a moment. She braced herself for the pity, but his face was so carefully blank - no, not blank. Calm with lethal rage.
“A year. I was there a year before… its a long story.” p. 363 - 364

“Her back.
Rowan soared over the trees, riding and shaping the winds to push him onward, faster, their roar negligible to the bellowing in his head. He took in the passing world out of instinct rather than interest, his eyes turned inward - toward that slab of ruined flesh glistening in the candlelight.
The gods knew he’d seen plenty of harrowing injuries. He’d bestowed plenty of them on his enemies and friends alike. In the grand sense of things, her back wasn’t even close to some of those wounds. Yet when he’d seen it, his heart had clean stopped - and for a moment, there had been an overwhelming silence in his mind.
He felt his magic and his warrior’s instincts honing into a lethal combination the longer he stared - howling to rip apart the people who had done that with his bare hands. Then he’d just left, hardly making it out of the baths before he shifted and soared into the night.
Maeve had lied. Or lied by omission. But she knew. She knew what the girl had gone through - knew she’d been a slave. That day - that day early on, he’d threatened to whip the girl, gods above. And she had lost it. He’d been such a proud fool that he’d assumed she’d lashed out because she was nothing more than a child. He should have known better - should have known that when she did react to something like that, it mean the scars went deep. And then there were the other things he’d said… 
He was almost to the towering line of the Cambrian Mountains. She had barely been grown into her woman’s body when they hurt her like that. Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t Maeve told him? His hawk loosed a piercing cry that echoed on the dark gray stones of the mountain wall before him. A chorus of unearthly howls rose in response - Maeve’s wild wolves, guarding the passes. Even if he flew all the way to Doranelle, he’d reach his queen and demand answers and … and she would not give them to him. With the blood oath, she could command him not to go back to Mistward.
He gripped the winds with his magic, choking off their current. Aelin… Aelin had not trusted him - not wanted him to know.” p. 365 - 366

“If she hadn’t wanted to tell him about being a slave, then she probably had done so assuming the worst about him - just as she was probably assuming the worst about his leaving. The thought didn’t sit well.” p. 366

“I don’t want your pity.”
This is not pity. Maeve decided not to tell me what happened to you. You have to know that I - I wasn’t aware you had - “ 
She slid her arm across the bed to grip his hand. “I knew. At first, I was afraid you’d mock me if I told you, and I would kill you for it. Then I didn’t want you to pity me. And more than any of that, I didn’t want you to think it was ever an excuse.”
“Like a good soldier,” he said. She had to look away for a moment to keep from letting him see just what that meant to her. He took a long breath that made his broad chest expand. “Tell me how you were sent there - and how you got out.” p. 368

“And when she awoke before dawn, warm and safe and rested, Rowan was still holding her hand, clasped to his chest.” p. 368

I really dislike comparing love interests to one another - everyone has a right to their ship as long as they don’t bully others for theirs. But… this is something I noticed even when I still shipped Chaolaena. Chaol’s response to seeing Aelin’s back is “What did you do to deserve it?” Rowan’s… obviously there’s a difference. I won’t go into it, but the difference between the two really touched my heart. 

Anyways, obviously Rowan sees his mistakes even more clearly now. And wants to atone for them. Wants to work harder to be better. He realizes just how far gone he had been in his despair and rage to not notice how much she had suffered, how much she had survived. 

Then he cares for her after the burnout, making sure she is safe, fed, recovering. Its almost motherly, the way he fusses. Something Tamlin certainly never did. And of course, he wants to learn more. He wants to know more about her, learn why she is the way she is - and again, he sees similarities between them…

“But I also think you like to suffer. You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you’ve committed. And I know this because I’ve been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years.” p. 375

“At least if you’re going to hell,” he said, the vibrations in his chest rumbling against her, “then we’ll be there together.” p. 375


Just a personal note (so sorry, it is my post though) this is why I like their relationship so much. Because they have been through the same kinds of trauma, the same kinds of despair and grief, same rage and fury, and still see the good and the worth in each other. More than anyone else in Aelin’s life (except perhaps Aedion but… brotp… and they’re cousins…) Rowan is her equal. 

“Do not take one more step - “
She kept going. Inside the fortress, screaming had begun - pain and death and terror. Each step away from it tore at her, but she headed to the stones, toward the megalith gates. Rowan grabbed her elbow. “That was an order.” 
She knocked his hand away. “You’re needed inside. Leave the barrier to me.”
“You don’t know if it’ll work - “
“It will work,” she snarled. “I’m the expendable one, Rowan.”
“You are heir to the throne of - “
“Right now, I am a woman who has a power that might save lives. Let me do this. Help the others.” 
Rowan looked at the ward-stones, at the fortress and the sentries scrambling to help below. Weighing, calculating. At last, Rowan said, “Do not engage them. You focus on that darkness and keeping it away from the barrier, and that’s it. Hold the line, Aelin.” 

Hey look, he respects her right to make decisions on her own, even if it is difficult for him or he disagrees. 

“Rowan,” Gavriel murmured, tightening his grip on Rowan’s arm. Rain had begun pouring. “We are needed inside.”
“No,” he snarled. He knew Aelin was alive, because during all these weeks that they had been breathing each other’s scents, they had become bonded. She was alive, but could be in any level of torment or decay. That was why Gavriel and Lorcan were holding him back. If they didn’t, he would run for the darkness, where Lyria beckoned. 
But for Aelin, he had tried to break free.
“Rowan, the others - “

Also unlike Tamlin, he fights for her. And then they fight together

Which leads me to QoS. Cuz the only other bits in HoF of real importance are the blood oath and her telling him her whole story, the first person she trusts with every facet of herself. 

Mostly in QoS I’d like to point out the ways in which he is respectful of her decisions, since this whole post is about this “abuse” nonsense (complete and utter nonsense). 

#1. He stays in Mistward as long as it is safe/ makes sense for him to do so. He respects Aelin’s wish to go off on her own and take care of things herself.

#2. When he returns he lets her make the decisions for their lodgings, whichever situation is most comfortable for her, even if he might see possible backlash on their sleeping arrangements. 

#3. During her fight with Aedion over the blood oath Rowan does not say one damn word, not even when Aedion calls her that one word I think we can all guess. He lets her handle it and is comforting. He only says something the next day to Aedion - something vastly similar to what I would say if it had been my friend. 

#4. Though he might not like it, he steps back when Aelin runs off at night on her own doing sneaky sneaky awesome things

Alright look that’s as far as I’m going to go because when I read QoS I turn into a bowl of mush over my ship so I’m going to leave it at that with the conclusion that

Sure, Rowan was a dick at the beginning

Rowan and Aelin did not at all like each other in the beginning

But neither did Aelin and Sam, or Aelin and Lysandra, or Aelin and Chaol. They all got into fights and beat each other up at some point.

But Rowan is in no way no how no shape or form abusive, cruel, manipulative, possessive, or anything at all like Tamlin. So if I see another one of those posts Imma beat yo ass (with knowledge and a great vocabulary) and go on about my day. 

Rowan has suffered as much as anyone in the series, and was still dealing with the residual effects of that suffering when he met Aelin. But meeting her snapped him out of his self hatred and general hatred of life. He is a character who sees his mistakes and works to improve. He wants Aelin to be her very best self, and to help her in that endeavor. When he gets out of his personal absolute low, like Aelin in HoF, he is respectful, open minded, and kind. And an excellent friend. 

So there’s that and god I don’t think I can do another one of these posts because do you know how many hours it takes to read these books over looking for quotes and then writing them and analyzing them like wow good thing I have no life

After being apart for 18 months. This was the best feeling in the entire world.. After countless nights of crying because I missed him, all the FaceTime dates, thinking about how much it sucked and then finally getting to have this moment, I suddenly forgot all the sadness I felt while he was gone. It makes me tear up just looking at the picture.. Currently I haven’t seen him in 10 months and I still have another 6 to go and I can’t wait to have this feeling back again.

My best friend for the last 3 years and the only person who has never given up on me. I can’t explain in words how much I love you but I know you feel it when I squeeze you and never let go. One day the distance will just be a memory and we’ll never have to experience it again. Until then, I can’t wait to see you ❤️

*please don’t remove my text, it’s a personal photo.
Tony & Trigger

When I formed the new patio, I built the forms as tedious little tunnels so that I could break them out later and plant things in the gaps. The 9′ cross pieces in the grid were full length; the long top pieces went the opposite way, to anchor everything together. You can get a hint of how it was constructed here:

I finally finished it, we finally poured, and then I had the job of taking this whole laborious framework OUT again. I got the edge restraints and their stakes out, got one of the 9′ cross piece constructions out and a few of the 3′ shorties, and then it rained like hell, I hid inside, and all the wood swelled. So yesterday I’m out there with my trusty FU flat bar and my six foot iron bar, using all the tricks of leverage to slowly convince one of those 9′ tunnels to come out. I’d been working an hour or two, and I’d finally gotten the free end up over the concrete. Rest of it was still wedged, not even budging with the 6′ iron bar. I’m working it from the ends and from both sides (where the cross members made a gap) when I hear:


It’s an elderly man in sweat pants and a tucked-in-t-shirt, walking a three-legged dog. Oh dear, thinks I. I’m tired. I’ve been working all day. I do not want to risk a senior citizen breaking themself in my yard while trying to be flirtatious.

“No thank you, I’ve got it,” I said, and then “NO THANK YOU, I’VE GOT IT” because clearly not much remains of his hearing. 


“Well, I had help on the pour, but I formed it all myself. I’ve been doing a lot of remodeling and –”


Well, I can hardly say no to that. So he comes up the driveway, grins, and shakes my hand. And with his other hand he passes me the dog’s leash. I take the leash because that’s just what you DO when someone hands something to you, he takes two steps over to where my 9′ cross piece is stuck, and he lifts that end five feet clear of the concrete in one movement.


“Yes!” I run for the scrap pile.


“Yes!” I said, getting the block, but he couldn’t hear me because I was facing away from him.


“Leverage,” I said, turning back, “Is just about all I have going for me.” I stuck the block in place and *pop*, out comes the 9′ tunnel.


“Dogs have an advantage, starting with more legs,” I said, scritching the dog. “He’s really nice. And I limp too. Gotta stick together.”

In very short order I learned that his name was Tony, the dog’s name was Trigger, Trigger is Not A Pitbull (Trigger is totally a pit bull, and a sweetheart), he has four kids and five grandkids (Tony, not Trigger), he ran Arnold Schwarzenegger gym chain for twenty years, and sometimes he’s got so little to do around the house he builds things and then deconstructs them again, so if I need any thing else lifted when he comes back this way, just say so, Y’HEAR?

On the second lap of his walk, I wasn’t ready for any help – I had to take some top cross pieces off so I could get at the next 9 footer. He was ready for me, though, because apparently he’d spent his walk deciding which pieces of advice from his marine force recon days were best suited to a young woman remodeling her house. This time I learned about the five Ps and how having the right tool is most of the job and that when he woke up screaming one night his wife left him but the kids decided to ‘stay with daddy’, and do I know what marine force recon is? And I said maybe, I had a friend who did something like that but he didn’t talk about it.


“Smart therapist.”


“I don’t know how long I’ll be out, but thank you!”


And off he went, and I went back to work.

I got one more 9′ chunk out myself, and a bunch of little crosspieces. I really went to work on the rest of it, but when I packed it in there were two nine footers remaining, as well as about six littler pieces, and one of the long ones was stuck in tight.

"Erik and I are going out to dinner,” I told housemate Xed. “Uh, if a loud elderly man comes and starts tearing things out of the patio outside your bedroom window, please don’t be alarmed.”

This was not the strangest thing I’ve warned housemate Xed about, but it was right up there.

We’d been at dinner half an hour when Xed texted me. “Your elderly friend came back. The forms are gone. I said thank you.”

Came back home, and yup, every single piece of form is out.

“He wasn’t even winded,” said Xed.

I really have to think of some way to say ‘thank you’ to Tony and Trigger.

An elderly hard-of-hearing weightlifting marine-force-recon-veteran is a person in my neighborhood,
In my neighborhood,
In my neigh-bor-hood
Oh an elderly hard-of-hearing weightlifting marine-force-recon-veteran is a person in my neighborhood,
He’s a person that you meet
When he’s walking down the street
He’s a person I met yes-ter-day!


-I was in a group therapy session for people with PTSD.
-The entire group was comprised of people who had been affected by #TheTriggering, from shoplifters to genderfluid otherkin.
-I was there after diagnosing myself with PTSD because someone had messaged me saying “there are only two genders” and that literally caused me to go into cardiac (trigger warning: law enforcement)arrest. I was otherwise a (trigger warning: unrealistic standards)perfectly healthy 400lb person without an eating disorder.
-Five minutes into discussing how we were triggered by the color scheme of the room we were in(the otherkin who were related to dogs couldn’t participate because dogs are colorblind), a CISHET white man came in and sat down in one of the chairs.
-I angrily asked (trigger warning: gender specific pronoun)him “how dare you enter our safe space? What gives you the right to be here?”
-he said “I’m an ex marine and I saw my 3 best friends get killed by a suicide bomber.”
-I couldn’t believe this scum “oh so you are going to come here and sit with REAL victims because your Islamaphobia shamed someone into killing themselves? You have no right to be here with people who actually have PTSD.”
-Everyone clapped.

I've just realised that when Hanna met Tippi she said to Mrs. D that he sounded a lot like Alison and Mrs. D told her that she didn't think Ali had taught him hefty Hanna but it occured to me that Mrs. D knew all about Alison's nasty comments to Hanna and she did nothing

Like seriously my mother would never let me treat someone that way, especially not one pf my best friends

More proof that Jessica Dilaurentis was a terrible mother

I have all the love for Spencer Hastings. When Caleb was banging against her door and started talking about his feelings, Spencer desperately tried to stop him at first because she knew Hanna would be hurt and that just blows my mind tbh. Here is a woman who has been betrayed by both her best friend and her boyfriend and she still chose to spare her friend’s feelings even at the cost of her relationship (not that great relationship but still). Spencer even let Hanna know that she wouldn’t be mad at her forever, she just needed time. Honestly, no one could handle the betrayal as maturely and gracefully as Spencer is handling it right now. 

We Got Your Back

-Admin Red

Some idiot you had been flirting with turns out to be a creep when it comes to texting, so Tyler and Josh decide to mess with him.

a/n-  Admittedly, this is pretty rough, but it was surprisingly fun to write so I’m gonna post it anyway.

All you had wanted was a nice gentleman friend to take you on dates and worship you, but apparently Clark was not your guy. You had only met him yesterday, but he was already pulling out the white boy innuendos. You told him you were spending time with your friends and would text him later, but he was a persistent little shit.

“Netflix and chill? ;)” the newest message read, causing you to groan loudly and look to the heavens, praying for forgiveness for whatever you had done to deserve this.

“Everything okay?” Josh asked, setting down his controller after he beat Tyler for the third time at Super Smash Bros.

“I was texting that guy I met at the store yesterday and it turns out he’s one of those guys,” you sighed.

Those guys?” Tyler repeated, confused.

You tossed him your phone in answer. Josh scooched closer to Tyler so they could read it together. They both nodded as they scrolled through the most recent messages.

“Oh. I see.”

“I get it now.”

You took your phone back and stared at the texts, trying to figure out the best way to respond. “This guy is an idiot. I should probably just block him,” you thought aloud.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Josh lit up, looking from you to Tyler and then back to you again before continuing. “Okay, well it’s two ideas. Me and Tyler should scare him off. Like, one of us will pretend to be your boyfriend or something. Or we can pretend to be your brothers.” He looked very proud of himself.

“Why don’t we just be her friends and tell him to stop..?” Tyler interjected, leaning forward so he could see you around Josh.

“Well, that too,” Josh mused.

“Wait, that’s perfect! We’re gonna merge them together. Quick, Josh, take a selfie with me!” You pulled him closer to you on the couch and opened the camera app.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“Something couple-y,” you replied, fixing your hair.

He shared a confused look with Tyler, who merely shrugged. He settled with putting his arm around you awkwardly and giving a forced smile.

“You look really uncomfortable,” you laughed, watching his movements on your phone.

“Pretend it’s me,” Tyler suggested, earning a chuckle from Josh. You took a picture while you were both still smiling.

“We’re getting there.”

“Are you sure?” Josh raised an eyebrow.

You turned to him, looking him right in the eyes with the most serious expression you could muster. Surprised, he met your gaze with a quizzical look. Ever so slowly, you raised your finger, lightly touching his nose with a soft, “boop!” This caused Josh to launch into hysterics even though it wasn’t that funny to you. His laughter was contagious, and set you into a fit yourself.

You didn’t even realize Tyler was taking photos of the two of you until he yelled, “Got it!” He proudly showed you a surprisingly cute picture of you both looking like you were having the time of your lives.

“Ty, this is perfect. Send it to me!” you demanded.


“We make a cute fake couple,” Josh grinned.

“My turn!” Tyler plopped down in between you two. “If the ones with Josh don’t work, I’m your angry brother that… That-”

“Is an ex-marine!” Josh exclaimed.

“Is an ex-marine,” Tyler confirmed, and flexing his tiny arm muscles, he continued, “And I’m a champion body builder. I’m very mad he won’t stop texting you dumb things. Let me practice my angry face.” He gave his best scowl, which made him look like a moody teenager more than anything.

“You guys are too much,” you shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips.

You spent the rest of the day taking selfies with your two best friends as they took turns texting Clark from your phone. You were glad they always had your back.

The saddest thing is that Spanna may never be the same again

“You can’t fool friends. That’s what makes them friends.” Hanna Marin

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool my best friend, and you’re dead frickin’ meat.” Hanna Marin

“Do not hurt my friends. If you so much as touch one hair on their heads, I will make you very sorry.” Spencer Hastings

BBQ and Sangria

Harry Styles - 1475 words


She wasn’t sure if it was his shirt clinging to his upper body, coated in sweat after being behind the barbecue for almost an hour already. The sun was scorching down on Niall’s open garden, making it probably even more unbearable behind the smoking, coal filled steel barbecue. It could also be that she woke up this morning with that tingle, joy overtaking her from waking up next to her - now almost three year old - crush after a night out.  

He look good. No. He looked great, amazing and breathtaking even. She couldn’t help but lick her lips when he decided it had become too hot, discarding his shirt and banishing it to the dry grass only a few meters further. Everyone was occupying their selves. Louis was footballing with Zayn, their loud hollers echoing through the otherwise quiet neighborhood while Tina and Annie cheered them on.

Linda was off somewhere inside, getting the drinks - more like a giant bucket of sangria filled with chopped bits of fruit - ready to accompany the meat Harry was currently grilling on the barbecue. I on the other hand, had settled in one of the lounge chairs scattered along the perimeter, Stephen King’s Dr. Sleep resting on my lap. I had been engrossed in the life of Daniel Torrance and his paranormal abilities until Harry decided he would sacrifice himself to an evening stuck behind the barbecue - but I knew he actually liked toying with fire and preparing a decent meal, he had proved it to my small form more than on one occasion.

“Wipe the drool off of your lip, it’s disgusting.” Linda chuckles darkly as she holds a glass filled with pieces of fruit and the deep red colored alcoholic fluid in front of my nose. My hand curls around the glass and I give her a scolding glare, closing my book without a second glance towards it. “Because your fascination with Niall isn’t overall disturbing.”

“At least he knows I am more than into him.” She grants me with a pointed look, one I have received all too many times before, but I always brushed off. “You fuck like rabbits.” I scoff, a look of utter disgust laced through my features as the tip of my tongue sees the daylight.

“At least I get laid. I understand you’re not interested in just a quick fuck with the love of your life, God forbid. But at least do something.” Instead of answering, I bring the glass to my lips and chug half of it down, the coolness calming my overheated body just the slightest. My eyes find Harry again and he gives me a small wave, other hand shielding his eyes from the harsh sun. I reciprocate by lifting my glass towards him, a small grin making its way onto my lips. “This is sickening.” Linda groans and settles on to the lounge chair besides me, sunglasses covering her for once, makeup free  eyes.

“Oh shut up.” I laugh as I push myself up into a sitting position, the book, long forgotten, sliding  from my lap to land on the terrace with a loud thud. I decide he could use a glass of himself, and maybe even his sunglasses. And to be honest I wanted to see if the droplets of sweat rolled off of his toned chest like I had fantasized about oh too many times.

Louis and Zayn are fighting over if it was a goal or not, their loud arguing resonating through the open space. while I spill some of the fruity liquid on my fingers. I walk over to Harry, feverishly licking my fingers to get the stickiness off before wiping my now wet hands against my jeans shorts. “Oh thanks, I really needed a drink.” Harry grins gratefully my way and before I can say anything, the whole glass is empty and a contented sigh leaves his lips. I grab his glasses by one ear and lift it from its spot on the front of my shirt, holding it out for him to grab. “You’re a life saver.”

“Without me you’d be a helpless puppy, moron.” I grin and leaning over the barbecue to eye our bacon. “It’s starting to look great. Marinated?” Harry nods his head and without a second thought I lick my lips, mouthwatering at the foresight of the delicious bacon.

“I don’t know why you sacrificed yourself again. You could be chilling beside me with a drink in your hand.” I lean against him and a shudder takes my body when he throws an arm lazily over my shoulder. “I do have to remind you dear I am not your gay best friend.”

“Oh but that doesn’t mean I can’t treat you like one.” I grab the wrist that’s dangling near my shoulder, my fingers ghosting over his already tanned skin. “She asked me out, you know.”

“Who?” I suppress the pang of hurt that curls around me like a dark shadow, settling with a surprised, yet confused pointed look shot his way. “That girl, Lucy.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what to respond without yelling at him he shouldn’t even be thinking about any girl when there was a fucking willing volunteer right here in front of him. “I subtly said no thanks.” The grin is too quick to hide immediately but as soon as it broke through I try to get my stoic appearance back in check.

“I have someone a bit more close by that sparks my interest.”

“Who?” Harry just grins as he shakes his head and grabs the fork to poke the meat that was still sizzling on the barbecue. I can’t help but the frown that takes over my face. Who could he be possibly interested in? Linda? She is sort of exclusive with Niall, at least that is what I presume, Tina had her eye on Louis and Annie was with Liam who had a football match and might pop by later.

There was no girl in our friend group that was actually available. Unless he liked that the girl was sort of taken, when I speak of Tina that is. Maybe he meant Beverly. She wasn’t part of our solid friend group, but tagged along on multiple occasions when we went out.

Fucking hell if he chose Beverly I might actually be physically sick. That girl was a walking STD. I step out of his embrace and he drops his sunglasses to shoot me a pointed look which I ignore. “I’m going back to Linda.” I walk away before he can question my motives and my legs take me as fast and I can without breaking out into a jog. Linda grunts when I drop down next to her again, grabbing my book and glass again, pretending there was nothing wrong.

“What crawled up your ass? Lover boy said something wrong?” Linda quirks one eyebrow up, dropping her sunglasses just the tiniest bit that she can show me the look she’s throwing my way. “Nothing. Shut up.”

“Oh princess don’t be like that. What did he say?” She leans back into her chair as if nothing’s wrong and I follow her lead so no one would get any suspicions and I prop the book back up on my lap.

“Apparently Lucy asked him out.” A snort leaves Linda’s lips almost instantly and she covers it up with a cough, afterwards shooting a thumbs up to Annie and Tina who were staring our way. “Almost choked on a piece of apple, nothing wrong!”

She turns her head towards me and her voice drops to a whisper, but it only holds for the first few words of her sentence.

“Don’t tell me he said yes to that bitch. She is horrible and I’m sure she slept with half of town.” I nod my head, taking a sip from my glass and pretending to flip the page.

“Everyone knows that. But he didn’t say yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

I scoff as if that wasn’t horrible enough to hear he maybe would have considered saying yes to that blonde. “He apparently has interest in someone else.”

Linda perks up at my words and turns on her side to grant me her undivided attention.


“Someone close by. I think he meant like in our group. Beverly?” I ponder out loud, setting the now empty glass to the side and flipping another page of the book, this time a bit harsher than before.

“Oh sweetheart you are a complete retard.” Linda laughs but before I can ask her what’s so fucking god damn funny about my misery Harry yells out that we’re ready for dinner. Without another word Linda raises to her feet, shaking her head one more time while she glances at me before sauntering over to the table.

Part two is right here!

Lots of love,
L. xox

Dearest Hanna,

My little lamb. Whenever a person says “I finally figured out a way to give you something that no one else can.”, it is best to assume that they have an agenda.

“Something that no one else can” is code for “something to make me worthwhile in your eyes.” Which means that Lucas is looking for validation from you that he hasn’t gotten. And if being a friend hadn’t been enough, then you don’t want to go down that path.

You are being bought.

I Survived Streetcar

Stella, Holy Scully, #BlancheInBrooklyn spotted together at last by the stage door at St. Ann’s Warehouse on Water Street 😏 If you attended the May 18 show of A Streetcar Named Desire in Brooklyn, hope you nabbed a sticker! We had so much f*cking fun giving these out, and watching people pick them up from random places and smile! The activity was a nice counterbalance to the whirlwind of destruction happening inside the round. 

The show itself was a wild ride. It was as if Gillian had gathered up all the pain in the audience just before Blanche DuBois walks out with her suitcase and shades, and proceeds to spit it forcefully back at us. Talk about being gutted. I have never seen Gillian in person at anything. My emotions were everything. I was nervous before the show (not going to lie), clinging to my seat during the performance, silently dying and crying at the end, and oddly so surprised to feel calm and free at curtain call. I have to think on that last bit. That Gillian, always casting spells. The applause for the terrific cast was thunderous and seemed to just go on and on.

The message to fans I added to the back of the stickers we gave away :) Shoutout to the #gillygifcrew on Twitter crew, sorry Tumblr! 

Many people have written about not actually ‘seeing’ Gillian on stage at Streetcar until curtain call, as she uncurls her back and stands up straight, giving a hint of that Gillian smile. This was true for me. As the show progressed I acclimated to the production, I looked and looked for Gillian and all I found was Blanche. I was truly amazed but honestly a little scared by that. What it must be like to turn your body over to another and transform into a person so real that you yourself disappear completely. The performance is far more physical than I expected. Blanche isn’t just teetering, she’s got the shakes, her body careening about the stage, twisting and bending. She collapses! She runs! She holds her ground! I noticed Blanche has the oddest power stance, all askew but firm, if and only for a moment. Gillian was practically standing sideways as Blanche held her weight against the bathroom door to keep Stanley out. Dresses went unzipped! Heels were lost many times! At one point Gillian stood with one shoe in and her bare foot perfectly arched as if still in her blue pumps, until the nurse retrieved her shoe, and politely tapped her on the foot to signal she could slide back into it. The text and performance is so forceful - I saw lots of Gillian spit flying around when she delivered Blanche’s deliciously long winded pieces of dialogue. The long bits took my breath away. Watching Tennessee William’s language pour out of her was just incredible, like a torrential rain hurling down on us all. 

I had second row seats and Gillian passed closely by during Blanche’s devastating last walk. Her gaze was just feral, eyes full of despair, I felt them searing into me. At the end during bows and thanks, I could literally see the change occur in her eyes, as they became less wild, less pained, twinkling. Her Blanche is just something else. This is what I love about Ms. Anderson. She must escape the whole world as she knows it when she inhabits these women we have come to love - they are unrecognizable from one another and from the Gillian we know through talks and interviews. 

In a way, I think her fans who have followed her work closely know this feeling of total escape too. When I was 16 I ditched high school and took the train into the city to catch The House of Mirth at the movies in the middle of the afternoon. It was my introduction to Edith Wharton, just as Streetcar is an introduction to Tennessee Williams to so many young fans and those unfamiliar with this important work of literature. (I talked with several young fans who had never read the play; wanted to know if the production as true to the play, etc.) At 32, sixteen years later, I without hesitation ditched work to catch Streetcar in the theater, in another city. It felt right. Many of us have been to years and years of The X-Files Therapy, as I like to call it, completely escaping into the show when necessary. Slipping into Gillian’s work, and the worlds of her characters has been an important escape for me time and time again.

Sharing Streetcar has been a thrill. Our Lady Gillian really has THE BEST fans. She attracts a type methinks - cool as f*ck, flaws and all, constantly aspiring. I was so excited to meet one of my internet friends Kaati and share in the experience. I also attended the show with my good friend Marin - this was her first introduction to Gillian and what an introduction it was. We read the play together beforehand and totally got swept up in the excitement; she was a pro at handing out stickers to strangers, making memories with every sticker 😂😎 I of course have so much more to say but Streetcar was at once so incredibly magical, exquisite, and cathartic, I want to give time to consider it more. I feel privileged to have the opportunity to also see Streetcar again on May 28. This time, I know I will survive. So I am signing off for the night. I have like three meetings tomorrow at work, including a tour of a new train station in my neighborhood! OMG. Don’t these people know about Gillian F*cking Anderson?

graphic by my girl @mdub129 on the twitters // she made this in the wee hours after being slayed by Streetcar!


Since I first posted this in the wee hours of May 18 some weird internet shit happened, as always seems to happen. 

First, @ilovesashaa stumbled upon the sticker pole and was like “Okay, which one of you did this outside of St Ann’s?!” I was living. Then, it would seem Ms. Anderson herself (or her posse TBH) stumbled upon her lady friends and tweeted a photo of #StellaInBrooklyn. That lead to my death. I had a good run. 

How Gillian’s tweet ruined me: There are a lot more objects in need of Gillian Anderson stickers #StellaInBrooklyn.

If you want to get some Gillian stickers, cause why wouldn’t you here’s where you can get them.

I love making people smile unexpectedly. This is a good reminder to keep at it.

cc: @perplexistan @storybycorey @thecomedicpenguin since we’ve chatted about Gillian and Streetcar, wanted to share my first thoughts with you all especially!