i feel for you charlotte

4

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Unconditional Love (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Notes: This was my first request! It was anonymous, and they wanted the reader and Spencer to have a daughter who came out as lesbian. I chose the name Diana for their daughter cause it just made sense i guess. I hope I wrote it alright. I’m not gay myself, but I am always going to love and respect any and all of you for who you are.

When Y/N and Spencer’s daughter was six, she told them that she made a new friend at school. Becky was going to be Diana’s ‘bestest friend forever’, as she put it. They just smiled, happy that their sweet girl was able to make friends so quickly.

Of course, child friendships don’t last that long. Becky moved away, breaking Diana’s heart. She knew that it wasn’t personal, but being eight, she couldn’t really comprehend it. Becky was so sweet, kind, and she liked to read just like Diana did.

In 3rd grade, Diana made another friend, Alison. She had dark, curly hair with eyes and skin like coffee. She was funny and confident, a real crowd-pleaser type. They spent the night at each other’s houses every other Friday. Alison made Diana feel bubbly, but she assumed that was just because they were friends.

When Diana was 12, something about Alison’s smile made her blush and her heart beat so so fast. It was how her mom had described falling in love her dad. Diana wasn’t one to mince words, so she told Alison.

She laughed in Diana’s face. That didn’t make sense. They were best friends. How could she treat her that way?

They didn’t talk much after that.

Diana tried to like boys, she really did, for another year of school. She just couldn’t. It was girls that made her smile, blush, stutter.

By the time Diana was 14, she joined a couple clubs at her school. One of the members of the Chess Club, Charlotte, convinced her to join the GSA too.

“I bet you will feel at home there,” Charlotte had said, with her freckled face a full head above Diana.

Diana though Charlotte was wonderful. She was so smart, and her fiery red hair matched her personality. They were fast friends by the end of the month.

And it happened again. Diana utterly fell for Charlotte. She had learned to just keep it inside…until Charlotte asked Diana to homecoming with her.

“Really? You- you like me?” Diana was shocked.

“Of course I do. Do you?”

Relief and happiness washed over Diana. This was okay, this was going to be great.

When it was brought to Spencer and Y/N’s attention that Diana would need a dress, Y/N obviously asked who she was going with.

“Charlie…”

“What color dress do you want? It should match Charlie’s tie.” Y/N suggested.

This was it. She felt apprehensive, but her parents had been nothing but doting and loving. “I think her dress is going to be teal.”

Y/N looked up and at Spencer. “It’s about time you had a girlfriend. I was wondering what was taking so long.” Her father mused. Y/N laughed and nodded.

Diana was dumbfounded. “You’re not upset?”

“Why on Earth would we be upset? This girl isn’t trouble, is she?” Y/N asked protectively.

“N-no, but she’s a girl. I’m gay.” She admitted. Diana felt the weight of the world lift off her chest.

Her father spoke up again. “Sweetie, this isn’t exactly news to us. And we both love you so much; who you love is your business. As long as Charlie treats you well, she doesn’t need to worry about your father coming after her. I’m not afraid to go back to prison.” Y/N punched him in the shoulder, smiling.

“Don’t you want to tell us about Charlie?” Y/N asked. Diana smiled back.

“She prefers Charlotte, actually.”

Welcome to Cordelia’s Diner! Feel free to take a seat, and chat it up with any of the workers, or usual customers!
They’re available for questions, and comments as well!
Your server choices are Cordelia, Whizzer or Trina! Don’t forget to stop by and pay Mendel as you leave!
Recognize those familiar faces in those booths?
Oh, well that’s Marvin, and Charolette, and Jason, of course!
They’re looking like they’re ready to strike up a conversation! Why don’t you join them?

All I Wanted (Corey Graves x Reader)

**Author’s note: This idea had randomly been put together solely because THIS song reminded me of Corey for some reason. Hope you enjoy!



      Tonight was a huge night for me. After a year and a half as a “behind the scenes” assistant for Stephanie, I’d finally proven myself enough to my boss and co-workers. Tonight, I’d be making my debut on “Monday Night RAW’s” interview team alongside Charly Caruso.

    No thanks to my friend, Renee Young, I would have never been able to get my foot in the door. Although my Degrees in communications and journalism was certainly a plus. Throughout my time here I’d made friends with much of the talent, but one person in particular had a larger impact on me over the others.




     I sat in the makeup chair, staring at my reflection in disbelief. I was hardly ever the “glamorous” or “dressy” type. More of the “cozy jeans and hoodie” kinda girl. I would take my old beat up pair of converse over the height advantage of murderous high heels.

   My almost porcelain skin looked delicate in the burgundy dress, my hazel eyes popped with the flawless smokey eyes and my lips a bright shade of pink in contrast.



   I took a deep breath, running a hand through my tousled brown and blonde curls before hopping from the chair, figuring that I should probably find Charly so we could run over a few last minute things.

  As I walked out around the curtain, I couldn’t help but grin with the sight I was met with. My best friend, Corey was nonchalantly sat on the bench attached to the wall, lost in whatever was on his phone.








“Stalking me again, Graves?” I gave a playful glance of suspicion as I crossed my arms at him.

“Aren’t I allowed to-?” As he looked up at me with those striking blue eyes and signature smirk, he paused mid sentence as his eyes scanned over my 5”2 frame. “Can’t take the punk out of the girl, huh?”

     A dimpled grin lit up his face, along with an amused chuckle as he pointed to my barely heeled,studded combat boots.

“There was no way I was giving them the option to shove me into a pair of heels.” I shook my head with a slight blush when I noticed he hadn’t looked away.

“Well, you look absolutely incredible, the girls did a fantastic job.” He stood from the bench, 6”1 frame practically towering over me, hands shoved into the pockets of his cuffed charcoal grey dress slacks.

“I uh, thanks. I think?” I gave a small grin and ran my hands over the pleated burgundy skirt.

“I mean, not like they had to do too much work, yeah?” He smiled, showing his pearly whites.

    I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t developed some feelings for him over time. I’d also be stupid to risk the amazing friendship we’d made, which convinced me even more that his words were nothing more than a friendly compliment.




       We shared similar roots. He’d grown up in Pittsburgh and I had studied at Penn State. We had similar taste in music, style, and culture.

      We had spent many of three hour car rides between cities talking about anything and everything, singing along with our favorite songs, and not to mention the occasional coffee hunt.

  He had my back since day one, always looking out for me. Always checking up on me for the silliest reasons. Honestly? It was nice having someone like that on my side, someone who cared.




“You know, I’m really proud of you, right?” His voice was warm and caring as he walked alongside me down the winding hallway, “You’ve worked your ass off, and that’s a rare thing to come by.” He added.

I gave a bashful shrug and half smile at his compliment.

“Couldn’t have done it without you though, Graves.” I admitted.

     He’d been there when I had doubt and fear, when I had those days where I didn’t feel good enough to be a part of the company.

“Does that make me your Jiminy Cricket?” A cheshire grin lit up his face, tone lighthearted.

     I couldn’t help but smile like an idiot at his reference, turning on my heel in the middle of the empty hallway. Giving him a mock contemplative look, I tapped my foot against the concrete floor.

“Hmm.. I was thinking more,” I paused, my eyes scanning over his slicked back brown hair, and his bearded jawline that could kill.

He quirked a sassy eyebrow down at me, amused glint in his eyes as he waited for me to speak.

“Well?” He smiled, holding his arms out.

“I was thinking more of the,” I clicked my fingers as I spoke. “Devil on my shoulder.” I grinned, watching the way his baby blues lit up proudly.

“Y’know, I think I should be offended. But I’ll take it as a compliment.” He winked and we continued walking.



“Are you carpooling with Rollins again?” He asked as we finally made it to the backstage area, and if I was mistaken I’d swear there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“He’s actually going with Cesaro tonight I think.” I chuckled, hoping up to sit on one of the wheeled storage boxes, legs dangling over the side. “Plus I was actually hoping we could go on one of our nightly adventures, it’s been awhile since we had a day off after getting into the next city.”

I heard an almost relieved sigh escape his lips, immediately replaced with a nonchalant smile as his hands fussed in his pockets.

“You need to quit reading my mind Y/n. I’ve corrupted you enough.” He warmly laughed, eyes scanning over me once again but this time his tongue darted over his bottom lip.

“Is that a yes then, cause I mean if not-” I lightly teased with a shrug.

“No. I mean- it’s definitely a yes.” He stepped forward to stand right in front of me, catching me off guard as he took my hands in his warmer, larger tattooed ones.

“Count me in, okay? I’ll swing past your dressing room later after wrap up with Saxton.” His voice was almost softer, a light tinge of red on his cheeks? His thumb lightly tracing over the back of my hand.

It took my brain a minute to form actual words, as I searched his gentle gaze.

“I- that definitely sounds good.” I felt my face grow warm as I gave him a soft smile, subconsciously giving his hands a light squeeze.

“Go get some hard hitting interviews tonight, got it?” His tone was playfully stern, dimples peeking through his beard.

“I can’t disappoint now, can I?” I grinned, looking down at our hands for a second.

“You got this, shortstack.” He teased, hesitating for a moment before pulling his hands away from mine.




      I couldn’t shake the way he’d looked at me tonight, and I definitely couldn’t stop thinking about the way his tattooed hands fit perfectly over mine. Maybe I was looking way too into it, maybe I hoped that deep down he felt the same way that I did.

“Y/N?” Charlotte’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, followed by the snap of her fingers in my face. “You there?” She chuckled as I slightly jumped in shock.

“Yeah?” I blinked a few times, hoping to clear some of the fog away and get myself together.

“You ready for the best interview of the night?” She boasted with a smile, nudging my side as we stood in front of the backstage curtain.

“Save the best for last right?” I smiled up at her as the cameraman counted down.


     “What’s gotten into you tonight?” She asked as we walked back to the dressing room areas, despite her character she was one of the most caring people and one of my other best friends here.

    Not to mention, she was also close to Corey but I could rely on and talk to her when something was on my mind. She knew about my feelings for him, which was partially a huge weight off my shoulders that someone knew my secret.

“Just nerves, I guess.” I blatantly lied, my voice kind of quiet as I walked alongside the 5”10 blonde.

“You really expect me to believe that, y/n?” She sighed and grabbed my arm, yanking me over to the side having an obvious advantage of strength over me.

     I stumbled a bit as she pulled me over, sitting beside her on the bench outside the makeup area, not a soul to be found.

“I, I guess not.” I sighed, leaning my head back against the cool wall.

“Well, start talking.” She encouraged softly.

“Something-” I paused, glancing up at her for a moment. “Seemed off with Corey tonight. I, I can’t place it. Like, you know how you can almost tell when someone looks at you differently? O-or their voice almost changes?” I babbled, bad habit of talking with my hands as I spoke.

     She was quiet for a minute, making me feel a nervous pit in my stomach. When I looked up, her green eyes were filled with an almost sisterly demeanor, small smile dancing over her face.

“Did you ever maybe take in account that- I don’t know, maybe he feels the same way about you?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

    I couldn’t help but sarcastically chuckle and shake my head, making her give me a completely serious look that caught me off guard.

“Char. You really think that-” Before I could even finish she spoke up.

“Seems to me that you already know the answer, Y/N. Stop second guessing yourself, take things as you see them. Especially when it comes to Corey, you’re lucky to see what he lets you. Just trust me on this.” She smiled as she stood, flipping her blonde hair to the side.

“Charlotte, what are you-?” I sat up, feeling my gut flip at her words.

“You got this, girl.” She shot me a playful wink before walking away.



  After checking in with Stephanie, I headed to my dressing room to get changed for the night. Nothing could ever beat a cozy pair of sweats and my beat up converse, not to mention it felt like my skin could breathe once I washed all the layers of makeup off of my face.

   I threw my hair into a messy bun, not caring about my appearance at this point. Comfort was my only goal. Oversized shirt, slightly baggy sweats and my favorite hoodie. 

     In the back of my mind I thought about what Charlotte had said. She was right, I was lucky that he trusted me with his stories and late night conversations.



     After about two and a half hours of driving, we found ourselves at an almost beautiful rest stop a little ways from the Sonic’s we’d gotten our food at.


“Not too shabby, huh?” He spun around on his feet, arms spread wide as he deeply inhaled the crisp night air.

“You really think I’ll admit that you were right?” I chuckled, paper takeout bag in hand as I took a seat at one of the faded wooden picnic tables, stomach growling as the smell of fresh and greasy food filled my nose.

“You kind of already did, but I won’t gloat.” He smiled, dimples lightning up as he sat across from me and took a sip of my strawberry milkshake.

“Hey!” I pouted, swiping the styrofoam cup away from him. “Get your own!” I childishly stuck my tongue out, grinning as he gave me his signature “pouty lips.”

“What?!” He gave an innocent look as he held his hands up. “I was just making sure it wasn’t my Diet Coke!” His feigned innocence broke with a laugh.

“Even I can smell your bullshit.” I rolled my eyes, taking out my wrapped double cheeseburger and large order of fries.

“Haven’t you heard that sharing is caring?” He scoffed, swiping one of my fries and popped it into his mouth.

“Haven’t you heard the saying-” I paused dramatically, quirking an eyebrow. “Get your own damn fries?” I laughed, cheeks turning pink at our banter.

“Fine.” He dramatically sighed as he opened the Styrofoam container with his loaded breakfast burrito and French toast sticks. “Here.” He smiled, dipping one of the sticks into the small cup of syrup, reaching across the table to hold it to my mouth.

I licked my lips, curiously tilting my head at the gesture.

“Really, Corey?” I chuckled, looking between his amused baby blue eyes and the syrup dripping piece of toast before taking a bite into my mouth with a content hum. “Mhm.” I smiled across the table at him as I chewed the bite that made my cheek puff out slightly.

He popped the other half into his mouth, warm smile in my direction.

I blinked confusedly, furrowing my eyebrows at him. “Huh?” I spoke as I chewed the last bit in my mouth.

“You missed some.” His voice was soft as he reached out with a napkin, but at the last minute set it down before gently thumbing away the slight mess of syrup from the corner of my mouth. “You’re wasting my syrup. Shame on you.” His chuckle low and smooth.


    After finishing our late night dinner, Corey had disappeared off back to the rental car in search of something that apparently wasn’t a secret. Not to mention, his proud half smirk gave it away.

   He insisted that I find a different spot for us that was more comfortable than “Risking a splinter in your ass.” Which led me to a surprisingly comfortable spot on the grass beneath a large oak tree.

“Any cereal killers, yet?!” He sarcastically called out from a few feet out of view.

“No, but if you take any longer I’ll have to take matters into my own hands!” I tried to sound scornful but I couldn’t help but giggle to myself.


   Chirping crickets, crisp air, and a stunning night sky. Granted, we were a ways away from anything that could ruin the peace.

“Ah, ah. No peeking. I can’t let you ruin my work of art.” He tsked.

He’d returned from the car with a backpack, but before I could ask any questions he immediately insisted that I cover my eyes.

What was he up to?


    I had vaguely heard him mumble to himself, followed by a “Perfect.”

“To be fair, I had limited time, but I think it’s pretty great…. if I say so myself.” His voice was almost softer, and- was there a slight tinge of nervousness?

   Slowly I had uncovered my eyes, and I swore my jaw had hit the ground. Immediately, Charlotte’s words from earlier rang in my ears.

  Before my eyes was a worn plaid blanket and beside it, Corey with an almost hopeful glint in his blue eyes.

   Deep down, I had hoped it was something more to his gesture. My mouth slightly hung open as my brain tried to figure things out.

“You just gonna stand there or-?” He gave a half grin, sweeping a hand over his “work.” “Ladies first, right?” He chuckled.

“I-yeah, I guess so.” I slightly babbled, and shyly sat down onto the worn blanket, him quickly following suit to plop beside me with a silly exasperated sigh.

  I don’t know if I was the only one who felt it, but I couldn’t shake the butterflies in my gut.


               “Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there..”

   Somewhere between the content silence and admiration of the stars, he had decided to finally speak up.

“It’s nice.” He spoke simply in a quiet voice.

   Figuring he was talking about the peace, I gave a small nod and a smile.

“Yeah. The craziness almost makes you forget about the simple stuff.” I softly replied.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him glance down at me before letting out a sigh.

  It was quiet for another moment, and without saying a word I felt his arm gently move around my waist. Immediately feeling his almost radiating warmth and the smell of his cologne drifting into my nose.

   Okay, maybe some of the warmth was from how hot my cheeks were burning.

   My body tensed against his, before giving a small shiver as I allowed myself to settle in his hold.

“I-” he paused, tilting his gaze down to me my shy one casted down at my feet. “I wasn’t talking about that. I, I meant that it’s nice. Just..” When he paused again, I took my own deep breath and looked up at him with a slightly confused glance.

 The light through the shade of the tree made his eyes shimmer just the right way, and it felt like I’d been hit in the gut with Negan’s baseball bat.

  I watched as he chewed his pale, plump bottom lip, with those eyes searching mine.

“Just nice, getting away with you. You get it, /me./ You see past the tattoos and cocky attitude I put on. You’re not afraid of some loud music or even to speak your mind.” The words flowed nervously from his mouth, leaving me speechless.

Was he-?

“I probably sound like a moron, but…”

  That’s when I had to stop him, a wave of confidence shot through me as I gently reached up to place a nervous finger over his lips.

“You don’t sound like a moron.” I softly chuckled in reassurance, as he blinked down at me.

   It stayed silent for another moment as I searched his features. Dark stubbled jaw taut, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his blue eyes full of curiosity with my finger placed over his lips.

“And despite you being a pain in my ass sometimes,” I paused with a smile to lighten the moment. “I meant what I said before. You’ve helped me get through a lot here, you actually cared about me. How many times have you stuck your neck out, or saved my ass?” I continued, my gaze gentle and serious.

   His free, tattooed hand came up to cup my cheek with an almost feather like touch, and I couldn’t stop from letting out a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding in.

“But I’m a pretty great pain in the ass, right?” He gave a low, warm chuckle, thumbing over my bright pink cheek. “I stuck up for you because I knew how badly you wanted to prove yourself.” He paused again. “But it became more than that for me.”

  I tilted my head slightly, reaching with my own hand to cup his scruffy face, gaze never leaving his. I knew exactly what he meant, because I felt the same way about him.

“You have no idea..” I quietly admitted, feeling his warm breath just inches away from my lips.

“You’re all I ever wanted, y/n. And then some.” With his words, his plump lips gently pressed to mine without any hesitation, making me give a small moan in relief.

 Our lips molded perfectly, and his stubble gently tickled my face. After what seemed like hours, I felt him give a smirk against our barely parted lips with his baby blues full of love.

“I love you, Corey.” I softly whispered, eyes fluttering as his hand caressed my skin.

“I know.” He gave a dorky, confident smile making me blush even more and playfully roll my eyes.

“What? It’s a brilliant line!” He feigned offence, and before I could speak again, his lips captured mine again.

                                               “All I wanted was you.”


Tagging: @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @alexispoo @wwe-smutfics @hardcorewwetrash @imaginingwwesuperstars @helluvawriter @mimicthephoenix @kailynnyukari21 @ashleyvc88

Feedback/reblogs are appreciated!! Thank you! 

A Sister’s Place

Prompt: the deep desire to write an Eliza fic

Words: 10,697 (wow… I’ve honestly never written this much for a single fic in my life.)

Author’s Note: Oh my goodness. This has been my little baby pet project for a while, and I am so proud to have actually finished it. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.


“You can’t just leave me here, Alexander!”

 “Please, Charlotte. You, of all people, know that where I am going you can not follow.”

 “I can aim a pistol at a redcoat just as easily as any man you’ll be fighting with!” 

 “That is not the point being argued, Charlotte. A woman’s place is not in the middle of a war.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I lost The Parent Trap by trulymadlykota please i can't find it in the master lists xxxxx (btw i really appreciate what you guys do for us i feel like you deserve more credit)

The Parent TrapAlexandra Lester and Charlotte Howell are in for a big surprise at their summer camp when they realize they have the same face. After, literally, putting the pieces together they find out the big secret their parents hid from them when they were born. Now, all they want is to set them back up again - but these things aren’t always so easy.

- Tori

Confession

So this is a fic I wrote based off of a prompt I saw on @omeliafics

I really connected with it and wanted to write it, so here’s my “comeback” fic “Confession.” Hope you like it. :-)


Amelia sipped a bit of her champagne from the cool glass as she plopped down on the couch. It was just a bit too bouncy, probably because it’s an old couch that Owen restored after finding it in an abandoned area of the hospital. Amelia cringed, hoping no wine from her glass would splash out. She was awaiting a call, so as soon as the familiar, almost annoying tune rang out from her phone, she jumped to press the green answer button. When a familiar face flashed across the screen, her grin filled her whole face.

“Charlotte!” She cheered, glad to see her friend. “Don’t you look great.”

“Great? Pshh. More like exhausted. You know people usually say it gets easier as they get older, but I disagree.” Charlotte laughed at herself a little along with Amelia.

“So how’s the married life?” Charlotte asked, probably expecting to hear all about the great sex and romance of Amelia’s relationship.

“It’s uh… nonexistent.” Amelia’s face lowered upon talking about it.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“I mean we have a lot going on. Owen just got a bombshell dropped on him, and before that I wasn’t even at home. I went back to be with him to support him. But we sleep miles apart in our bed, we don’t touch each other, we act like… friends. Maybe not even friends, just acquaintances.”

“What kind of bombshell?” Charlotte is always curious.

“His sister is alive, who everyone thought died years ago on the field in the army. They found her alive and she’s home in a facility. It’s taking a toll on Owen.” Amelia explained, her face reading all of the guilt and sadness she felt for her husband.

“And what about you? How do you feel?” Charlotte asked.

Keep reading

Title: Dear Maisie (Part 4.)

Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3.

Pairing: Denny Duquette and Maisie (original female character)
Summary: The third letter.
Word Count: 2,542
Author’s Note: And then I regretted creating this story because I don’t know why I wanted to make myself cry ;-( . Enjoy though! I’ve got an idea of where I want this to go…

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms)

Song: You and Me by Lifehouse

It had been a couple of days since I received a letter. I didn’t know what I was doing. Every minute, I watched the mailman drop the mail into the mailbox, hoping that I would see Denny’s familiar handwriting.

I knew that holding onto something as silly as his letters would simply just prevent me from moving on. Despite the letters, Denny was able to get me out of the house. I even talked to my boss about coming back into work and he was more than happy to hear that I wanted to go back to work. I was even able to go through his things, though, it took me an entire day to do so.

His lingering scent still wafted throughout the house, reminding me of the man I had fallen in love with.

Suddenly, I hear a knock. I walk towards the door and once I open it, the mysterious person had already left. I look down to see a large box and a letter taped atop of it.

It was Denny.

I smile.

He was always catching me off guard.

I excitedly bring the items into the house and quickly sit at the couch. I open the letter with care and notice the photo of Denny and I when I managed to take him out dancing – despite his protests.

Slowly, I open the envelope and begin to read the letter:

Keep reading

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MOTHERFUCKIN' 19TH CENTURY LADY WRITERS

The original badass mofo Jane Austen.  She has a bad rap because so many people blame her for giving us every rom-com plot ever. Yeah okay, sure.  You know what else she did?  Wrote about real women and men, in real life situations.  If you want to say that her heroines are too perfect, I say NAY.  That’s the point of literally ALL her books–the heroine has this flaw that would be tragic, except she LEARNS from it because she isn’t FUCKIN HAMLET (I hate Hamlet) she’s a real person who is capable of developing and changing and growing and can also be a total bitch (LOOKIN AT U EMMA) but can also end up being a good person because real people change.  Psychological realism in lady characters was practically not a thing until Jane Austen.  They were figures and plot devices and, like, allegories and shit.  A lot of scholars place Jane Austen on the same level as Shakespeare, because she revolutionized the modern novel–the novel as we know it now didn’t really exist until Jane Austen because HOLY PSYCHOLOGICAL REALISM AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, BATMAN.  Yeah.  You wanna read endless novels about flat, boring characters?  Didn’t think so.

Then we have the Brontes, who were all fuckin badass and also like the most talented family ever jfc.  Because they couldn’t get published because they were ladies, all three sisters decided, fuck it, let’s publish under male pseudonyms.  (Full disclosure: have yet to read Anne, but am told she is actually the most badass)  Okay, Wuthering Heights is kind of weird.  Like, really weird.  But when you get into it and start ripping it apart you realize how amazing that shit is, like the entire novel?  The fuckin thing is a palindrome.  And don’t even get me started on the brilliant narration oMG SO MANY LAYERS OF UNRELIABILITY.  Emily Bronte ilu.  

and JANE EYRE OMG JANE EYRE.  Let’s just give Charlotte a round of applause.  This novel legitimized first-person narration, specifically first-person female narration.  Most first-person stuff was epistolary and the ladies were all like “tralala I bought a dress and flirted with a guy oh wow now we’re engaged yadda yadda” and Jane is complex and kind of broken and not romantic in the least.  Also she is a total badass.  She is a self-made woman, everything she has, she has because she literally built herself from the ground up.  And then there’s this whole scene where Jane is like “ladies can do the same shit guys can do but nobody will let us which is stupid.”  and, unlike any of the other ladies in governess plots, she actually ditched her super rich boyfriend because she respected herself too much to stay with him after shit got real.  And then she becomes super rich not because she marries him, but because, well, deus ex machina kind of, but still, it has nothing to do with Rochester!  Yay!  Also a really big deal–Jane and Rochester are both super flawed but they love each other anyway and it doesn’t end up being a tragedy because guess what, people can have flaws and not die horrible deaths. Also also–neither of them is hot (this brings me joy).

anD FUCKIN MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY.  (I cry every time someone leaves out her maiden name because google her mother holy shit, so badass)  She invented sci-fi.  nuff said.

Elizabeth Gaskell!  (She wrote North and South, the one with Richard Armitage?)  SO MUCH SOCIAL COMMENTARY OMG.  And Margaret will take no shit from nobody.  She basically runs the house when her parents are alive and then after they’re gone she is still TOTALLY CAPABLE of taking care of herself because she’s FUCKING AWESOME.  She faces down an angry mob, for fuck’s sake! (Also, for the record, though I love the miniseries, book!John is even dreamier and less of an ass than series!John)

Okay and Mary Elizabeth Braddon.  I had never heard of this badass lady but DAMN IS SHE COOL.  Everybody was like “ugh whatever she’s a silly lady writer writing sensational lady stories ahahaha how dumb” SHUT THE FUCK UP.  If you want to read a super badass 19th century murder mystery by an awesome lady, read Lady Audley’s Secret.  The main character is a lawyer who is really smart but too lazy to actually lawyer so he just sits around and smokes all day and he kind of accidentally becomes a detective (like…that’s literally what happens…)?  Also, spoiler alert, the villain of the story is a lady, which I am all in for.  Yeah.  And!!! The bumbling lawyer-man is a feminist! He has this huge inner monologue about how women are just as capable as men but they actually get shit done because they are awesome and motivated and, well, okay this is not always a good thing because hello lady villain, but still. [edit: alas, I spoke too soon, he is not a feminist. turns out he hates women. Robert Audley, we could have had it all, why’d you have to go and fuck it up.  there are, however, many interesting and varied ladies in this book and it is also beautifully written Mary Elizabeth Braddon iluuuuu] READ THIS BOOK I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW

Also cool things were happening with lady writers worldwide in the 19th century, but, uh, I specialize in Brit lit and I just tend to like it better so, sorry.  My bias is showing.

But anyways, BADASS MOTHERFUCKIN 19TH CENTURY LADY WRITERS FOR THE WIN

8

“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte; “you must be surprised, very much surprised, so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know—I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and, considering Mr. Collins’ character, connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.”  pride and prejudice,  Chapter XXII.

I have no idea what this is…

but apparently I continued it:  1|2|3|4

Nothing was the same since Danny died. She should have never talked him into going spelunking, especially when she’d broken the biggest rule in the book: never go in unexplored caves. And always know when it was going to be high tide. 

They hadn’t even been able to find a body.

Keep reading

Watching PLL is like watching Chopped

And Marlene is the competitor who makes a decent and entertaining dish but ultimately disappoints by taking the three main ingredients and, while using them well, only using them for separate parts of the meal instead of bringing them together to make an elaborate one-piece course. Also one of the ingredients is like a special kind of rare spice and it’s meant to be the most powerful ingredient on the pallet but Mar just uses it to make a slightly spicier duplicate of the bread you can find in the Chopped pantry.

THIS IS ENDGAME!!!!!!!!!

@rosewoodspoiler made this incredible YouTube video ( https://youtu.be/Ci_HCbRMPCU ) and it literally BLEW MY MIND. I believe without a doubt this is ENDGAME.

I am going to summarize some of the main points and add in some personal thoughts and theories. Sorry if it’s kind of all over the place. Trying to get all the thoughts out.

1. Cece Drake is really Bethany Young
**Whenever I use the name Bethany from now on, I am referring to the character we know as Cece Drake.
-Bethany is the daughter of Mary Drake and Mr Young (who is British)
-They had 2 children: Wren and Bethany
-Wren is Uber A and Bethany is Big A
-They have been working together the whole time. They are brother & sister.
-Bethany got the inspiration of her fake name “Cece Drake” from her moms maiden name.
-She was born/put in Radley because of her violent outbursts and bipolar disorder. (also her parents had mental illness)
-The picture Wren is seen coloring in Radley is of his mother and father (Mary & Mr Young) and him and Bethany.
-Wren moved to London with his father and changed his name (& somehow became a doctor- real or fake idk).
-Bethany was Jessica’s niece, which is why Jessica asked her to call her Aunt Jessie.
-She was able to get out of Radley because she was blackmailing Jessica because she knew about her secret son/daughter Charles, so Jessica being on the board gave her out privileges.
-Bethany hated Jessica and Alison because they were living “the perfect life” while she had to grow up in Radley and also she knew that Jessica put her son in Radley because he was transgender.
-Wren, as Bethanys older brother, also hated them. Especially for what his sister had to go through. He is Uber A. He isn’t in Radley so he had the power to do all the heavy work and Bethany enlisted Mona (and other members of the A team who hated Ali for their own reasons) for help.

2. Sara Harvey is really Charles/Charlotte DiLaurentis
-Charlotte is the son/daughter of Jessica and Kenneth DiLaurentis. Ali is her sister and Jason is her half brother.
-He always wanted to be a girl but did NOT have a mental disorder, but Kenneth didn’t like it and put him in Radley.
**Anytime I use the name Charlotte from now on, I am referring to the character that we know as Sara Harvey.
-Bethany and Charlotte met in Radley and grew up as friends. They both had their reasons for hating/envying Alison.
-The girl in the grave is the real Sara Harvey: Bethany stole the body and planted her own DNA on the body so people would believe she was actually dead so she could continue to be anonymous. “Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.”
-When Bethany is caught as A when the girls escape the dollhouse, she pretends she is Charlotte DiLaurentis, in order to gain sympathy from everyone and avoid jail time. No one can question this because everyone thinks Bethany is dead and no one knows who Bethany actually is-no one has ever “seen her.”
-The real Charlotte goes along with it, and pretends to be Sara Harvey to the girls in Rosewood. Maybe Bethany forced her into it (like in the flashback when Charlotte asks Bethany “what did you just do?!” when Bethany pushes Marion off the roof and Bethany lashes out and says “YOU pushed her.”) I feel like Bethany has total control over Charlotte.
-Charlotte (the character we know as Sara Harvey) is always saying she wants a shower. This isn’t just annoying repetitive writing, there is a REASON for it. Anytime she gets upset or stressed, she wants to shower.
-In the flashback of Charles as a kid, he says to baby Alison, “You know what always makes me feel better…?” And draws the baby a bath.
BOOM!!!!!! Mind blown right?! @rosewoodspoiler is literally a GENIUS for putting that together!!!!! Unbelievably amazing!!!!!!!!
-Charlotte gets a tattoo on her back of a bird flying out of a cage. She is now free to be her true self- a woman.
-Bethany and Charlotte paid off a girl to pretend to be Sara Harvey’s friend, so the story would hold up when Emily goes to meet her. Otherwise it would seem weird that Sara wouldn’t want to go see anyone from her life after being “locked in the dollhouse for years”

3. Someone turned in Bethany(“Cece”) to the police (in one of the first few seasons when she is shown getting arrested) and she thinks that it was Jessica, so she kills Jessica.
-Jessica is talking to the REAL Charlotte
/ChArles(“Sara”) when she says “I can’t protect you anymore”
-Charlotte(“Sara”) says to Emily “I was saying goodbye to someone” when Emily sees her standing in the cemetery. Later we are shown it is Jessica’s tomb stone. She was saying goodbye to her MOTHER!!!!! (Once again-all credit for this find goes to @rosewoodspoiler )
-Charlotte has the secret passage way in the Radley hotel because she lived there almost her whole life.

4. Someone kills Bethany Young by pushing her off the church tower.
-Uber A (WREN!!!!) goes insane because someone killed his sister and starts torturing the liars all over again trying to find out who it was.
-I personally believe that Charlotte found out that Bethany killed Jessica, and so she killed her in revenge.

5. So how does Rollins fit into this? I believe he is Wrens friend who Wren sent to watch over Bethany while he hides in the shadows.
-Rollins and Mary Drake are working together, he is helping her find out who killed her daughter -BETHANY YOUNG.
-The only reason Rollins got involved with Ali is to push the idea that Bethany should be released (and it worked. By that time Ali felt soooo sorry for Bethany(“Cece”) and even convinced the 4 liars to vote for her to be released)

I know this was all jumbled and it can get confusing with the names but I just had to get it all down. Comment, ask questions, tell me what you think!!!!!!

basmathgirl  asked:

I didn't know there were Austen gay otps (I'm very sheltered). Could you tell me what they are, please?

My time has come.

Because Jane Austen tended to foreground the importance of sisterhood and female friendships and bonds between women in her books, a lot of scholars naturally look to her for evidence of Sapphic love in Georgian and Victorian England. They use her works to prove that there was an awareness of female homoeroticism and an understanding of lesbian love in a sexually repressive era that denied female sexuality altogether.

It’s not a bad idea, and I’ve read some (good and bad) queer readings of Austen that:

  • Try to prove Austen herself was gay
  • Try to suggest that the relationships between sisters, e.g. Jane and Lizzie or Elinor and Marianne, are homoerotic (first of all, yikes, second of all, no)
  • Compared and contrasted her novels with the experiences of Anne Lister, a lesbian from Austen’s time who kept a diary and talked about her sexuality and all her crushes and cute girlfriends (quite informative, actually)
  • Straight up argue that their gay otps in Austen are real

There is an ungodly amount of meta arguing for erotic romance between sisters in Austen, none of which I find convincing, and all of which I find disgusting (Austen scholars, y’all nasty). But probably the two biggest gay otps, or at least the ones I’ve read about the most, are Charlotte Lucas and Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, and Emma Woodhouse and Harriet Smith from Emma.

The novel Emma begins with Emma Woodhouse’s governess Mrs Weston leaving her to get married; Emma is vehemently jealous and views the husband Mr Weston as a rival. It’s not inconceivable to believe that Emma had harboured secret feelings for her beloved teacher. In this sequence, it is worth noting that although marriages with men are said to bring practical advantages (a house of one’s own, security, money), friendships with women bring emotional advantages, true companionship, and affection. Women must abandon the comfort of their female circle for the social advantages of marriage, and you might even suggest that the love between women is more fulfilling as a result. This is a common theme in Austen’s novels, and so the search for a marriage that brings both emotional fulfillment AND coveted social advantages is a driving need for many heroines.

Emma later meets Harriet Smith, and if you’ve read the novel you’ll know why I bring them up as an example of a gay otp because Emma just adores Harriet. The first mention of Harriet:

Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew very well by sight and had long felt an interest in, on account of her beauty.

(Emma’s been scoping out the new hottie in the neighbourhood from day 1.)

She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness; and before the end of the evening, Emma was as much pleased with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue the acquaintance.

(Harriet you beautiful tropical fish.)

She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the evening flew away at a very unusual rate

(Time flies when you’re fucking gay, am I right?)

Emma’s attempts to make “worthy” men fall in love with Harriet can be seen as an attempt to sublimate her own desires for Harriet, and even court her by proxy. Similarly, her command that Harriet reject Mr. Martin can be seen as a lover’s jealousy.

The friendship between Harriet and Emma is also depicted as dangerous and inappropriate – ostensibly because of the class differences, but one may also suggest because the intimacy between them was too intense, since Mr Knightley objects specifically to “this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith.”

There’s a lot more written on this subject and how it compares to her desires for Knightley, and why her desires eventually shift to Mr Knightley, but I might leave it there for brevity’s sake.

My personal favourite queer interpretation of Austen comes in the figure of Charlotte Lucas from Pride and Prejudice. As anyone who follows this blog knows, I adore Darcy and Lizzie with a passion, but I am partial to readings of Charlotte and Lizzie’s friendship as romantic.

Charlotte is introduced to us as “Elizabeth’s intimate friend.” She and Elizabeth are always gossiping together; she “told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas.” On Charlotte’s part, there appears to be an uncommon adoration; she is always encouraging Lizzie to play and sing. Charlotte makes her laugh, and on the whole there is an ease and a lightness and a joy to their friendship that is remarkable. One of the cutest passages:

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim [Lizzie’s] hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence.

(Lizzie, he’s rich, don’t be a fuckwit.)

Charlotte, I believe, is in love with Lizzie; but of course, she cannot really pursue her in a romantic way. She ends up marrying the disagreeable Mr Collins. Austen narrates:

The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte’s dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other person.

I always find this passage unbearably upsetting - as indeed it is meant to be. Charlotte has no other options than to marry a man - any man who will have her - and she is a burden to her family and to society until she does. When she tells Lizzie about the match, the following exchange occurs:

   "Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte, impossible!“ … "I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte; “you must be surprised, very much surprised – so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it all over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins’s character, connexions, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.”

The picture of Charlotte Lucas, the plain, 27 year old woman who marries a tedious man simply to gain security and a “comfortable home” becomes all the poignant if you view her as a lesbian, hopelessly in love with her best friend, yet forced to conform to heterosexual marriage simply to survive.

And this reading becomes even more tragic when you consider that she has a whole speech where she talks about the dangers of losing one’s love by leaving that love unspoken:

“It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely – a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.”

Charlotte did not admit her love, and never showed Lizzie just how much she adored her, and so Lizzie never did more than like her. On Lizzie’s side, the loss of her deeply intimate friend left a great hole in her life, and the loving marriage she forms with Mr Darcy helps to fill that hole. Charlotte was her deepest confidante and friend, and she was stolen away by Mr Collins; Darcy’s conversation with her, which evolves from verbal sparring to deep and intimate exchanges, replaces those discussions with Charlotte. Darcy becomes her best friend; he shows his affections plainly; and he marries her.

Charlotte’s tragedy is that she does not marry for love. Read her as queer, and her tragedy becomes that she cannot marry for love. It adds another dimension to the novel that I find quite satisfying.

To my knowledge there aren’t as many discussions of male homosexuality in Austen. Most of the focus seems to be on ladies loving ladies, but I’m sure there are people out there passionately shipping Darcy/Bingley anyway.