i should have taken my time

Mrs Willison’s Homemade Jam

by reddit user FamilialDichotomy

As a child, I was a picky eater like I assume most children are. As my parents tell it, my eating habits transcended normal childhood proclamations of “I don’t like broccoli!” and evolved into a refusal to eat absolutely anything of substance. Things other children might eat and enjoy like chicken nuggets, spaghetti, or even a hot dog were shunned by toddler me. It got to the point, they say, where they and my paediatrician became concerned for my health.

Keep reading

okay, i’m just putting this out here because it needs to be said and i’m sick of letting the bullshit train continue when i could help stop - or at least bring attention to - it. i have a friend who is diplegic and therefore uses a manual chair (her twin was also quadriplegic and in a motorized chair) and when we watch movies with wheelchairs in them, we like to critique the designs.

do you know why mcavoy couldn’t/can’t drive his motorized wheelchair? BECAUSE THE FUCKING WHEELS ARE ON THE WRONG WAY. HANK MCCOY, WHO IS SUPPOSEDLY A “GENIUS”, DESIGNED THE WHEELCHAIR SO THE BIG WHEELS ARE ON THE FRONT AND THE SMALL WHEELS ARE ON THE BACK.

LOOK!

LOOK AT THIS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT. DO YOU KNOW WHY HE CAN’T DRIVE IT? THE SMALL WHEELS ARE AT THE FRONT BECAUSE THEY ARE SMALL AND THEREFORE ALLOW FOR LOTS OF FINE CONTROL, AND THE BIG WHEELS ARE AT THE BACK BECAUSE THEY OFFER POWER. WHEN THE BIG WHEELS ARE ON THE FRONT IT IS SO DIFFICULT TO CONTROL WHERE YOU ARE GOING. IT’S LIKE WHEN YOU WALK BACKWARDS ON A BIKE AND TRY TO STEER STILL WITH THE HANDLEBARS. I SAT BACKWARDS ON MY FRIEND’S MANUAL CHAIR AND TRIED TO WHEEL MYSELF. IT WAS LIKE COMPLETELY REWIRING MY MOTOR SKILLS EVERY SECOND I WAS MOVING. IT. IS. BULLSHIT. AND ALL OF CHARLES’ CHAIRS ARE LIKE THIS!!! HANK!!!!! WTF!!!!!!!

ALSO. Charles would have THE WORST backpain from that stiff-ass unnecessary fuckin metal backrest that goes all the way up. YOU KNOW HOW PEOPLE’S BACKS GET UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN SITTING FOR HOURS ON A LONG PLANE OR CAR RIDE???? YOU KNOW THAT FEELING??? THAT FEELING IS THIS CHARLES’ LIFE, OKAY. HIS BACK HAS TO BE UNNATURALLY STRAIGHT ALL THE TIME. THIS CRITIQUE IS TAKEN FROM MY FRIEND’S EXPERIENCE BECAUSE SHE ALSO HAS A HARD BACK CHAIR AND HAS BEEN TOLD SHE’S GOING TO HAVE AWFUL BACK AND SHOULDER PROBLEMS BECAUSE OF IT. YET HARD BACKS ARE STANDARD AND SLING BACKS - LIKE THE ONE I’M GOING TO SHOW YOU IN A SECOND - ARE NOT! THIS IS BECAUSE THE WHEELCHAIR-GETTING SYSTEM IS COMPLETELY BROKEN AND IT’S SOMETHING YOU SHOULD REALLY CARE ABOUT BUT IT IS A RANT FOR ANOTHER DAY). THE POINT IS, CHARLES’ BACK IS ONE HURTIN’ UNIT IN THIS CHAIR I GUARANTEE YOU. HE OBVIOUSLY DOESN’T NEED IT FOR TRUNK CONTROL. HE HAS AMAZINGLY FREE RANGE OF MOVEMENT ABOVE HIS HIPS. THIS CHAIR IS  B U L L S H I T. HE CAN’T DRIVE, HE CAN’T SIT UP IN A COMFORTABLE WAY. POOR BABY IS H U R T I N G  but right, Hank’s ~~a genius~~

In contrast, look at this chair!

Look at those tiny-ass wheels on the front! The user of this could spin ON A DIME. It’s Nice as Fuck. Look at that back. (Okay I’m not 1000% certain it’s a slingback) but it doesn’t go all the way up the user’s back! That’s some free-range-of-movement-let-your-spine-do-almost-anything-it-wants-shit right there. Since Charles pretty clearly has full use of his trunk in the movies, this would make much more sense. Also, Ann (friend) and I really don’t see why he would want an electric wheelchair when he clearly could have a manual one that allows for even more control. 

AND OKAY, all wheelchairs should be specific to their users. Some people need more back support. In Ann’s quadriplegic brother’s chair there was a neck brace and little wing things on the side that came out and clamped around his body. Some people’s foot rests need to go out like Charles’ does (whether or not he requires this is kind of foggy, espc. since the overall design is so. asinine.). Some need their footrests to be more in like the orange chair. Some people get tilted wheels, some people don’t. (Also the process for deciding this is bullshit - on government insurance they will only build your chair with the assumption that you will never leave your house and therefore it’s almost impossible to get ‘add ons’ like sling backs and tilted wheels and under-the-seat brakes WHICH SHOULD BE STANDARD, AGAIN, BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T HAVE THEM YOU COULD HAVE MORE MEDICAL ISSUES DOWN THE ROAD OMG THIS SYSTEM IS SO BROKEN). 

But I think we can ALL fucking agree that your wheels should go on the goddamn correct way so you can, you know, steer. And that maybe your chair should be designed more like a mobility assistance device than a fucking 1860′s gentleman’s club wingback for no goddamn earthly reason.

SHIT this stuff gets me riled up.

THE GUIDE TO BTS FANS: TYPES OF ARMYs !!!

The new comers: Guys HALP! Why are they slapping each others’ butts? 

The inspectors: Yes judging from his shadow it is Jimin in the BS&T era and judging from V’s Gucci slippers it was taken the second week of december of last year #TrueStory. 

The  theorists: They sold their souls to the evil to understand BIGHIT’s Bullsh*t.

The fanwar soldiers: Don’t start an argument with them, they have loads of clap-backs ready and are as savage as yoongi.

The shippers: “OMG their pinky fingers touched ME DEAD”. they gathered more proof about their ship than the FBI would ever.

The aristocrat: No I am not like those basic, crazy fangirls. *She/He is*.

The bias ho*s: Changes a bias on every comeback, but no one can blame her… We have loads of those btw

The content makers: The last time they slept was when BTS had a hiatus aka never.

The promoters: If you are a liiittle bit known in the interweb. Don’t you EVER DARE use the word “BTS” or your comment section will turn into “You should check BTS out, they are very talented, they can sing and dance, plz collab …”.

The broke: Considers water a meal after spending all the money on anything BigSnake throw at them.

The poors:  feed their passion through fancams and salty tears.

The delusional: If I was in korea my bias would have fallen for me. *flips hair*. “Beach he is taken” said the shippers.

The youtubers: React to BTS mainly for views but tell us they are fans.  

The FAKE fans: If you see “I used to like BTS but …” It is them. Stay away! the fanwar soldiers will take care of them.

The dancers/singers: They shoot vdeos everywhere and it turns out either super cool or super cringy. there is no in between

The seasonals: They know two things about BTS: their names and main tracks. They appear twice a year when BTS have a comeback. 

The horny: Dangerously reads smut in public. Gets horny over the weirdest body parts “Look at Jungkook’s elbow bone SHOKE ME daddy”

The fansites: If you see someone with a latter and a high definition camera that can probably shoot the aliens on Mars running in an airport. It is them! Their favorite color is white as they looooove turning BTS into A4-white papers.   

The basic fans: Are here mainly for the music/dancing. Always educating and judging all the above. They start all their sentences by “DON’Tbecause *insert BTS human rights*” 

I hope I didn’t forget anyone ^^ Gotta love our fandom!
By @mimibtsghost

7 Questions to Ask When You’re Feeling Overwhelmed

1. Which of these tasks should I prioritise? Do what’s most important first, and the pressure will subside.

2. Would I achieve more if I got some extra sleep? If you’re too tired to work then you’re usually less productive.

3. Are other people sucking the life out of me? Are there certain individuals who’re demanding too much time?

4. Is there anything at all that I can delegate? Do I have to do it all, or do the whole thing on my own?

5. Have I taken on too much on because “I don’t let people down”, or I’m afraid of saying “no”; or do I fear the negative reactions of others?

6. Is my space full of clutter, and that’s adding to my stress? Do I need to tidy up, or just get rid of some old stuff?

7. Can I withdraw, or take time off to recharge my batteries? Do I really need a break, and need the chance to be refreshed? Would I likely perform better if I made time for self care

Ten Things Trans Men Want You To Know

By Jason Robert Ballard

Over my life as a transgender man I have had moments I wish I could have said something to someone close to me but failed to. Until going back in time is an option, lets move forward with better understanding on things we wish we could tell our close friends and potential partners. If you’ve received this article from a friend, are they trying to tell you you’re guilty of one of these points? Potentially, or they just think it was a good read and you might enjoy it.

1. You’re guilty by association
You will receive more questions about me than I will. People who are confused or curious will typically ask a person they believe can relate to them or think share similar experiences. Talk to me about what I’m comfortable with you sharing when you field these questions. If I prefer not to be outed, you could respond with a simple, yet firm “It’s not my place to answer these questions for you, I’m sorry.” If I’m open about my transition, find out how to appropriately answer or divert harsh questions. This will make you a better ally and allow conversations to flow toward critical discussions instead of focusing on sexualizing the experience. As the topic of transgender lives emerges in mainstream media, questions often fall into one of two categories “genuine curiosity” or “superficial curiosity”. The question, “What are some reasons a transman might not have bottom surgery” is different from the question “Do you have a penis?“ Knowing whether the questioner is coming from a place of good will or being malicious may help you decide how to handle these moments.

2. “But you’ll always be _____ to me” hurts
Transition in life is inevitable. While seeing your little cousin for the first time in years and enjoying the fact that they were once in diapers, one may say “Aw, but you’ll always be little tommy to me!” and be perfectly acceptable. However, in my case I may have struggled with who I was and how I felt about myself before coming out as the authentic me. This is a time in my life of positive growth and happiness and if I’ve chosen to share it with you, telling me that you’d rather remain seeing me as someone I have taken great risks to leave behind is hurtful and damaging to our friendship. Telling me I’ll always be my birth name or birth sex in your eyes can be like telling someone who struggled with depression that you’ll always see them as ‘that pathetic emo kid’ or someone who fought with self image and weight lose that they’ll always be ‘fat’ to you. See what I’m saying? Yes, we may have a long history of knowing each other before I came out and that might be hard for you to let go of or see differently. Let me know you’re trying by not using this statement.

3. Outing me can be extremely dangerous.
As positive as some of the media and support for trans people are, there is still an overwhelming amount of hatred and ignorance. Hundreds of transgender people are murdered every single year and most of these times the killer walks due to failed/no protection laws in place for me. You may think that having a trans friend and talking about it in a public setting is fine, but if the wrong person over hears you or tells their friend who tells their friend, I could be in serious danger. It being a novelty to have a trans friend isn’t worth my life. If you want to talk about it, just don’t use my name and say you’ve ‘got a friend’.

4. My dysphoria isn’t your fault
It can be tough to be emotionally involved with someone who has a hard time with self image. You yourself may feel like you’re solely responsible for their happiness but sometimes their sadness comes from a place you simply can’t touch. It is not your fault that I have places and things about my body that I don’t like paid attention to. Talk to me and find out what is okay with me and what you can do to ease any triggering of my dysphoria, but don’t take the dysphoria personally. Some relationships, trans or cis don’t end up being ‘text book’. If I’m uncomfortable with my breasts and talk about wanting surgeries in the future, being sad about that and saying things like “But I love your boobs!” or “No don’t, I love you just the way you are” isn’t supportive. In fact, it’s proof that you’ve created an image of me in your head that doesn’t match up with who I really am and that’s not a positive basis for a relationship.

5. “It isn’t the T”
Beginning hormone replacement therapy can be a HUGE moment in my life. However, following that achievement I may lash out at you or be a jerk. If I say things like “It’s the testosterone”, you have my permission to not believe it. I am well aware of the emotional changes that I’ve decided to undertake and there are countless support systems and advice articles for dealing with extra tension and shorter tempers all over Google. My mood swings and hormonal imbalance are mine to control, not yours to tolerate. I have no right to be rude to you or push you away and blame a substance.

6. How do those egg shells feel?
Don’t get so hung up on words that the conversations never happen. You know me, if we’ve been close for any period of time you know what and how to phrase questions and statements to not be offensive. Though I may not want to be an educator all day every day to strangers at the grocery store, you’re my friend and it shows me you care when you’re excited about my transition with me. Many transgender people don’t have or lose their entire support systems when they come out so I’m lucky to have you. If you’ve been around the web a time or two you’ll notice our community gets hung up on terms and words. Don’t let this frighten you into bailing on me.

7. Don’t date me despite me
If you’re interested in dating me, make sure you’re interested because of who I am, not despite my trans status. You’re not doing me a favor by being interested in me ‘even though’ I’m trans, you’re making it seem like to you it’s something that makes me hard to handle or below you and THANK GOODNESS you’re here now to be interested in me because who else would? Rude.

8. What you say behind my back is what you really think of me
When I first come out, some people might say things like “It’s about time” or “I always knew”, some may say they had no clue and some people might not believe me due to the rise of something called “trans-trending”. Whether you think I’m doing this for attention or because my friend is doing it too isn’t for you to decide. The locals don’t get to get together and vote to approve my trans status. There is no way for you to tell what has been going on in my mind for years and what I’ve struggled with personally. There are many ways to transition and no one way is perfect or the way it has to be done. Talk to me about it, find out my story if you feel so inclined. If not, just leave it alone because it doesn’t affect your life at all.

9. My pronouns mean a lot to me
Chances are I’ve chosen a new name and have preferred gender pronouns, you using them is a big deal to me and when you do it shows me that you support me in bettering my life for myself. Which should be qualities of all friends! At the beginning, you may slip or mess up but I promise I’ll be able to tell if someone is genuinely trying or if someone is making a point to use the wrong ones.


10. Thank you
If you’ve taken the time to read or share this article with someone close to you, you’ve sought out advice on being a better Trans Ally and that to me is admirable. Wanting to educate yourself to make me and any other transgender person in your life more comfortable in this time of great community and media change is worth a big thank you. There is a lot of anger and hatred in the world and in our small community and sometimes Allys can be pushed to their limits or be afraid to use the wrong words or do the wrong thing. Every single person behind us and in support of us is valuable. Thank you for your patience, your friendship and your love.

The Kissing Booth

A SnowBaz fanfiction


Simon

Once a year, usually in the spring, Watford stages a carnival for the students.  It’s usually quite humble, mainly consisting of booths selling small magic trinkets, or snacks like cotton candy, sweets and other classic carnival fare.  There’s always the tiny petting zoo over near the Cloisters, and some years Watford even scrapes enough together to bring in a carousel.  Most of the booths are run by student volunteers, and though everything is by donation, all proceeds go to whichever charity the student body has voted on.

           I go every year, mostly for the caramel apples and sweet cider, but this is the first year I’ve been behind the scenes of the carnival and helped at a booth.

           In truth, I didn’t even sign up for it, but Agatha hadn’t had a break all day and needed some cotton candy of her own.

           I should have told her to find Penny, or Trixie or even Minty.  Anyone but me.

           It doesn’t take long for the word to spread that Simon Snow has taken over the Kissing Booth, and mortifyingly the line has doubled in length.  Mostly first or second-year girls, blushing and stammering or swaggering up to the counter with a pronounced sway in their step, with the odd boy interspersed through the line.

           It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me – that honour goes to the time in second year that Baz stumbled upon a spell that made my clothes slowly dissipate, garment by garment, in the middle of the dining hall – and after the first two or three quick, cold kisses I start to calm down, but I’m counting the minutes until Agatha comes back.  How she endured hours of this, I cannot comprehend.  That’s just Agatha, I guess.

           A redhead drops her donation into the tin and her eyes flit around, meeting me for only a split second at a time, her cheeks aflame.  I try to look as non-threatening as I can and lean forward enough that she can close the rest of the space.  She darts in with a kiss that’s no more than a peck before running over to a giggling pair of who must be her friends, a triumphant grin on her face. She must have been dared.  Poor girl.  I hope I wasn’t her first.

           “Well, well, well.”

           My stomach lurches at the cold drawl I know only too well.

           “What are you doing here, Baz?” I say in as civilized a tone as I can manage.

           He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth in a twist that’s a bit too amused to be a sneer.  “When I heard that the Chosen One had taken over the Snogging Booth, I simply had to see it for myself.”

           “Well, now you’ve seen it, so now you can go.”

           “Saving the World of Mages one kiss at a time,” Baz murmurs with a chuckle.  “Not exactly what I was envisioning.”

           “I’m only covering for Agatha,” I retort, “she’ll be back in five minutes if you’re wanting her services.”

           He scoffs.  “I’d rather not snog your girlfriend, thank you very much.”

           “She’s not my – forget it,” I shake my head.  I’ve told him at least a dozen times, but it never stops him.

           “She must have been really desperate for a break to put you in charge,” Baz drawls on, his voice smooth like honey but with too much of a bite to be sweet.  “You’d think she’d at least pick someone attractive for the Kissing Booth.”

           It stings, but I don’t flinch.  “What, someone like you?” I spit back too fast.

           His eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise as I realize my mistake.  “You flatter me, Snow,” he purrs, and I feel my cheeks heat up, but I furrow my brow tighter and hope it passes for anger.

           “Is there a reason you’re still here?” I growl as the burning spreads from my cheeks to my ears.  

           “As a matter of fact, there is,” Baz says, and his gray eyes look cool enough to staunch the flames at the tips of my ears, but the more I glare into them the more the fire rages.  “I’m here to torment you.”

           “Great, well you’ve done that.”

           “I wanted to see what you’d do.”  He leans on the edge of the counter, bringing his face far too close to mine for comfort. “What would the Mage’s Heir do if his nemesis showed up at the Kissing Booth?”

           “You can torment me any time,” I shoot back, “you’re holding up the line.”

           “Oh, yes, well,” he feigns conern, “I wouldn’t want to keep anyone from their kiss.”

           “Then go away.”

           His eyes narrow and he pretends to think.  “Mmm, no.  I don’t think so.”

           “Baz, I’m warning you.”

           “Terrifying,” he drones, “but this is too much fun.  Besides,” his eyebrow flickers up, “don’t you owe me a kiss?”

           I flash him a smirk of my own.  “Aw, Baz. If you were so desperate for a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

           Baz, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye.  “You think of that comeback yourself?”

           “There’s a fee, you know,” I ignore him, barely having to raise my voice above a murmur for him to hear me, he’s so close.  “You haven’t paid the fee, so I don’t owe you anything.”

           He doesn’t drop his eyes from mine, and the cool gray takes on the spark of a challenge.  Out of my periphery I see him reach into his pocket, and there’s the clatter of coins dropping into the tin.

           I should punch him.

           I should spit in his face.

           I wanted to see what you’d do.

           I take him by the lapels and crush his mouth under mine.

           He makes a muffled sound of shock.  To be fair, so do I, but mine is more angry than it is surprised.  I kiss him hard and rough, and it’s a bit of a juxtaposition because his mouth is oddly soft.  A face like his, you’d expect his lips to be made of marble, cold and unmoving, but he’s the farthest thing from unmoving.  I can’t tell if he’s struggling or if he’s kissing me back but his lips are so, so soft and I want to bruise them, mark them, bite them…

           I only stop when a series of wolf whistles reminds me that there are at least ten people watching us.

           Trying to salvage the illusion of control, I break away harshly, still gripping him by his collar.  The cocky smirk has dropped from his smooth features and now his face mirrors mine, a matching scowl, like I’ve crossed a dangerous line.  I probably have.

           “Was that what you wanted?” I growl.

           He doesn’t answer, just holds my gaze another few seconds before pushing back from the table, his lapels slipping out of my hands, and stalking away.

*** 

I don’t see Baz at the carnival after that, and I stay as long as the booths are open, perusing the same counters and feigning interest even after having looked through their contents three times.  I keep Penny company where she mans the popcorn booth, drizzling caramel over every few cartons, and I even get bored enough to hang around Agatha back at the Kissing Booth for a little while, until one too many patrons have asked if I’m available for service.  When she and Penny are freed we pet the goats at the petting zoo, the ones that Ebb has graciously volunteered for the event, and take a few spins on the carousel.  Only once the light has begun to fade and the signs are being lowered from their booths do the three of us part ways.  Even then, I offer to help Ebb get her goats back safely.

           Basically, I’m doing anything I can to put off going back to the room, but eventually I can’t avoid it any longer.  I’ve wandered the grounds enough times that the sun has properly disappeared behind the distant hills and I can barely see the ground in front of me. Even then I’m tempted to consider crazy alternatives like spending the night at Ebb’s place, but I’m pretty sure that would be against school rules anyway, and besides, I’ll have to face Baz eventually.  There’s no undoing what’s happened.

           When I finally trudge back into the room, he’s staring out the window at the moat, presumably trying to intimidate the merwolves, but he turns at the sound of the door.  His expression, though I don’t see it for long before I look away, is hard to read. Wide eyes and a furrowed brow, like he’s still mad at me for my stunt earlier, but there’s a bit of a questioning edge there, too.  Almost a where were you edge.

           Normally I have to start any type of conversation, but tonight he wastes no time. “What the hell was that, Snow?”

           There’s no question as to what he’s referring, and I can’t help but get angry again.  “Me? You’re the one who had to start something!”

           “Well, you didn’t have to react so drastically,” he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall by the window, the moonlight casting its glow on his skin and making him even paler than usual, almost transparent.  I half expect fangs to slide out from his lips for no reason and complete the picture.

           His soft, soft lips.

           “You were egging me on,” I seethe, the memory igniting the rage that I’d felt in the fractured moment before kissing him, “it’s your fault anything happened.”

           “Proud little hero,” Baz says with the slightest smirk, “can’t back down from a challenge.”

           “You know I can’t, not in front of people.”

           “Wouldn’t want them to think the Heir is a coward.”

           I feel like a balloon in me is swelling and deflating at once.  “But that’s just it, Baz,” I insist, anger momentarily aside.  “If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?”

           He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second I think maybe he understands. I want so badly for him to understand.

           “No reason,” Baz eventually says, turning to look out the window again, “not with someone like you as the Chosen One.”

           I want to groan, to kick something, to shake him by the shoulders and make him look me in the eye and for once not fight me.  Have we ever in our lives made eye contact without there being some challenge between us?

           “Why did you have to get in that line?” I shake my head.  “There are so many other ways of tormenting me, lower-stakes ways.”

           “To be fair, I’ve already exhausted most of those,” Baz murmurs with a little shrug of his shoulders.

           “When have you ever been fair?”

           “Touché.”

           I’m tired of standing here at the door, so I kick off my shoes and sit down on my bed, trying not to think about how much closer I am to him now, still at the window, looking as vampiric as ever.  His gray eyes are positively silver in the moonlight, and the black of his hair looks silkier than ever, as if it’s soaking the rays directly into him. He almost glows.  I have to laugh a little, because more than once Baz has mockingly compared me, with my bronze curls and sky-blue eyes, to the sun, but he himself wears a halo of night.  If I am the sun, then Baz is most certainly the moon.  Distant, cold, mysterious, almost too pristine to touch.

           His gaze returns to me suddenly.  He raises an eyebrow in a wordless inquiry, and I realize I’ve been staring.

           “What exactly was it you expected me to do?”

           “At what point, Snow?” he gives a humourless laugh.  “You had more than one opportunity to react.”

           “When you paid the fee.”

           His tiny smile disappears.  “It doesn’t matter.”

           “It does.”

           “Drop it, Snow,” he says, the hardness returning to his eyes, and I know I’ve cornered him.  Drop it is Baz’s way of betraying himself, of saying there’s something that he doesn’t want to tell.

           “Was I supposed to kiss you?” I ask.  For some reason I have to know.

           “No.”

           “Then what?”

           “I don’t know, Snow, punch me.  Push me. Beat me to the ground.  Something.”

           My brow furrows in confusion.  “Wait. You wanted me to hit you?”

           He shrugs, more with his head than his shoulder.  “One of us has to get hurt, right?”

           I rise to my feet, and I’m face-to-face with him again, only his eyes are different this time.  Whereas at the booth he had betrayed no hint of doubt at our closeness, now there’s a flicker of something in the silver, something that feels a lot like the way my heart is racing in my chest, and it dawns on me.  He was putting on a show at the carnival, acting like nothing I could do would get to him, just as I had been.

           If they think I’m afraid, what reason do they have to hope?

           One of us has to get hurt, right?

           And suddenly it makes sense.

           There’s only a few inches between us, so it feels almost natural when I lean in and press the gentlest of kisses to his lips.

           He doesn’t kiss me back this time, but he doesn’t move away either.  “What was that for?” he asks when I draw back a second later.

           “You act like we’re so different,” I say wonderingly, “but we’re the same.”

           “How?”

           “What do you think we’d be if we didn’t have to fight each other?”

           I don’t miss the split second of longing in his eyes.  “Keep dreaming, Snow.”

           “Because I bet it would involve a lot more of this.”  I bring a hand up to his neck, my fingers instantly lost in the wavy tips of his hair and it’s exactly as soft as it looks bathed in moonlight.

           Baz closes his eyes like he has to collect himself.  “You’re the hero.  I’m the villain.  What more do I have to say?”

           “Fuck that,” I chuckle, “we both know that’s not true.  You’re a boy, and I’m a boy.  That’s all.”

           “Tell that to the rest of the world.”

           “I don’t care about the rest of the world,” I shake my head adamantly, “I want to know what you think.”    

           “About what?”

           “If there was no act, no reputation, no role to play,” I murmur, “if we were just two boys, what would you do?”

           Baz returns my gaze a moment, searching my eyes.    

           Then his lashes close and he’s kissing me, and my eyes drift shut again like I’m sighing in relief.

           I let my fingers tangle higher up in his hair while my other hand grips the front of his shirt like earlier, only without the anger of the afternoon.  He angles his head further and guides the kiss deeper, his hands gently gripping my waist and pulling me closer.  I melt against him, my mouth moving with his, my head swimming with his citrusy scent, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my throat when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle tug. Suddenly I’m floating, weightless, and Baz gives a muffled sound of surprise when I press back a little harder.

           When we finally break apart, both of us gasping and dizzy, I immediately want more, want to line his neck with my mouth, want to feel his breath hitch when I reach the base of his throat, want to hear my name in his sigh.  Would he sigh Snow or Simon?  I want to know.

           “Please,” I whisper, dotting a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “can’t we just be two boys?”

           When I meet his eyes, they’re full of more longing than ever.

           In response, he kisses a soft, slow triangle pattern on my cheek, and I recognize the pattern of the three moles by my eye, and I can’t help but smile.

“We can try.”

The signs as Kafka quotes

Aries: 

“I will not let myself become tired. I’ll jump into my story even though it should cut my face to pieces.”

Taurus :

“Once I enjoy a person, that joy knows no bounds.”

Gemini:

“One has either to take people as they are, or leave them as they are. One cannot change them, one can merely disturb their balance. A human being, after all, is not made up of single pieces, from which a single piece can be taken out and replaced by something else.”

Cancer:

“I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.”

Leo: 

“I am strangely tired, not from having talked so much but at the mere thought of what I still have to say.”

Virgo: 

“Time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible then one must try to wriggle through by subtle maneuvers.”

Libra:

“I am a very unhappy human being and you, dearest, simply had to be summoned to create an equilibrium for all this misery.”

Scorpio:

“I can never tear myself open wide enough to people to reveal everything and so frighten them away.”

Sagittarius:

“I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I’m not in the right place.”

Capricorn:

“Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.”

Aquarius: 

“Being alone has a power over me that never fails. My interior dissolves and is ready to release what lies deeper.”

Pisces:

“I do not see the world at all; I invent it.”

2

“Several times during the last three years I have taken up my pen to write to you, but always I feared lest your affectionate regard for me should tempt you to some indiscretion which would betray my secret.”

                                                                                           The Empty House

sentence prompts ➝  reign
  • ❛ You have no power because I’ve taken it all away. ❜
  • ❛ How many people have you killed? ❜
  • ❛ I know I’ve made mistakes. ❜
  • ❛ But it’s all meaningless without you. ❜
  • ❛ Have you ever wanted something so much that the fear of not getting it makes you wonder if you ever should have wanted it at all? ❜
  • ❛ Something we both want so deeply warrants a bit of fear. ❜
  • ❛ No one will ever keep us apart again. ❜
  • ❛ Men in general like to win ❜
  • ❛ Well, your taste in men always did leave something to be desired. ❜
  • ❛ In the darkest of times you were my conscience. ❜
  • ❛ The more we try to help each other, the more harm we do. ❜
  • ❛ Have you learned nothing? ❜
  • ❛ I lose everyone I love. ❜
  • ❛ What odd turns our lives have taken. ❜
  • ❛ Your life is more valuable than this. ❜
  • ❛ My life is once again the sum of my choices, not someone else’s crimes. And I choose to help my friends. ❜
  • ❛ Tell me, what would hurt more. Knowing the person you love will die, or knowing they’re alive but you cannot have them? ❜
  • ❛ I don’t give my heart or give up easily. ❜
  • ❛ Despite your heartbreak, I must warn you, I show no mercy. ❜
  • ❛ I’m not sure I trust my own fate anymore. ❜
  • ❛ You have to admit, your fate does have a sense of humor. ❜
  • ❛ I need to forget a ridiculous, childish idea that I could love someone, they could love me, and nothing else mattered. ❜
  • ❛ Choose because of what you think, not what others might. ❜
  • ❛ There is always risk. At least when you love someone it’s worth taking. ❜
  • ❛ I never said I was a good person, but one can receive good advice from a bad person.❜
  • ❛ Please, let there be one honest thing between us. ❜
  • ❛ You want to hear something honest? I would do anything to keep you. ❜
  • ❛ Love is never simple. Not that I’m any expert. ❜
  • ❛ We can’t do this. ❜
  • ❛ We were supposed to dance under the stars. ❜
  • ❛ Maybe there is no magic but what we make for ourselves. ❜
the crows as things i've done at school
  • kaz: sat in class, in full view of the teacher, doing the homework that should have been done when it was assigned a week ago, and somehow not getting any late points taken off
  • inej: spent like 20 minutes in the bathroom playing on my phone and my teacher never said anything?? i was gone for a really long time and nobody noticed
  • nina: exclaimed that i was "full on gay" right as my class quieted down and the teacher walked in behind me
  • matthias: got through an entire semester of health class without talking to anyone or making a single friend
  • jesper: laughed until i cried because i remembered that there was a woman named was "Janet McNutt"
  • wylan: got too enthusiastic about a project and explained the intricate details of a specific volcanic eruption on an icelandic island to my class for over ten minutes
  • kuwei: said that i didn't want to donate blood because "it's my blood. i made it and nobody else can have it but me"

anonymous asked:

Could you possibly, if it's no trouble, do dialogue between Solas and Zevran? I've always wondered how that would go. Thank you

Zevran: You are a rather quiet fellow, aren’t you?
Solas: I do not feel the need to speak simply to fill silence, if that is what you mean.
Zevran: I see. Should I take this to mean you are shy? In need of someone to lavish you with attention? Bring you out of your shell? I can be very encouraging in that regard.
Solas: Hmm.
Zevran: You do not speak much.
Solas: You speak more than enough for the both of us.
Zevran: A-ha! Yes, true. But what fun is talking if you don’t have a partner to do it with?
Solas: I’m sure you will let me know eventually. 


Zevran: How long have you traveled alone, Solas?
Solas: For quite some time. I have kept more familiar company in the Fade for many years. Why?
Zevran: Then it must have been some time for you.
Solas: Some time since what?
Zevran: Since you last had a lover.
Solas: What?
Zevran: Assuming you’ve had lovers, of course.
Solas: That’s… That is not important right now. We have far greater concerns at hand.
Zevran: Very true. Only it helps in times of trouble to seek… release, does it not?
Solas: I prefer to focus on our current goals. Such distractions would… complicate matters.
Zevran: Suit yourself.


Zevran: You do not approve of my line of work?
Solas: Death may sometimes be necessary, but the decision to end a life should never be taken lightly. Never for reasons as shallow as greed.
Zevran: No need to sound so angry, my friend. I understand the nature of my craft. Am I to be shamed for not properly mourning the lives that I take? I would rather not waste my time feeling guilty for something I cannot change. At least now I have the power to choose who I kill - and more often than not, it’s Crow’s blood I’m spilling.
Solas: For revenge? Or in order to eliminate the competition?
Zevran: Can’t it be both?


Solas: You were enslaved by the Crows?
Zevran: A slave? I would not exactly call myself as such…but yes, I suppose that is accurate.
Solas: They owned you, held complete control over your life. And then you escaped. You sought your freedom.
Zevran: You make it sound so noble. I am flattered. Though perhaps the story is less impressive if you consider my survival depended on sweet talking the person I had just attempted to kill while trying not to spill my guts into the dirt. It was less of an escape and more… knowing how to see an opportunity when it presented itself. I’ve had to end a number of lives since in order to maintain my independence from my former employers. But it makes it so much more satisfying, doesn’t it? Killing for your own purpose, instead of someone else’s.
Solas: I am not certain… but I understand your meaning.


Solas: Assassinations are common in Antiva, I take it? If they were not, the Crows would not be such a formidable organization.
Zevran: It makes the process so much easier when you simply eliminate the competition, no?
Solas: It may be efficient, but it is a shortsighted approach. A leader is nothing without his people and fear can only be an effective tool for so long without breeding chaos. One may require death as a means to an end, but to do so simply in the pursuit of more power…
Zevran: The fallout was never my concern or my specialty. I was always long gone with coin in hand by that point.
Solas: Have you ever wanted something more than that? To have your work strive towards a greater purpose?
Zevran: (laughs) Why do you ask? Is it possible our humble apostate is in the market for an assassin?


[Romanced Solas]

Zevran: She is quite beautiful, isn’t she?
Solas: Who?
Zevran: Come now, Solas. We both know who I am speaking of. Just as we both know precisely where your eyes were lingering a moment ago…
Solas: I’m certain you are mistaken.
Zevran: I cannot blame you. Admittedly, I’ve been enjoying the view myself. Quite an ample handful, no?
Solas: Please, for once, resist the urge to keep speaking.


[Romanced Solas]

Zevran: You know the Inquisitor well, don’t you?
Solas: I would like to think so.
Zevran: Tell me… What does Lavellan look for in a lover?
Solas: Excuse me?
Zevran: How would I woo her, if I were so inclined? Does she favor dashing good looks? Passionate embraces? Someone to sweep her off of her feet? 
Solas: (annoyed) No. I would not say she cares for such things.
Zevran: Oh, Solas. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.
Solas: What?
Zevran: Do you not think yourself handsome? A desirable lover? I could teach you some things that may bolster your confidence in that regard.
Solas: This is not a conversation I wish to have. Least of all with you.
Zevran: (laughs) Do not worry, my friend. I only tease the people I like. Most of the time, anyway.

[banter for Solas + Merrill]
[banter for Fenris + Solas]
[banter for Fenris + Romanced Solas]

Plagiarized fics - asking for help from the 1D fandom

Hi everyone! I’m poking my head in your door from the Haikyuu fandom to ask you guys for help. I have spoken to quite a few people in the One Direction fandom thus far and I have been overwhelmed by their kindness, support, and how fast everyone I talked to acted to help me and my friend get this sorted out.

It came to my and my best friend ellessey-writes’s attention (confusing names, sorry! I’m Esselle) this morning that many of our fics had been stolen by the Tumblr/AO3 user Fruxoo, who has since deleted her accounts.

Here are two screenshots of Fruxoo’s fics, posted in April. The first is a direct copy of my story Hunger, completed last June 2016. The second is the summary from Ellie’s story Tea and Sympathy, posted January of this year. The entire text of every fic Fruxoo stole has been copied almost exactly word for word from our fics, changing only the names and other relevant character info.

I messaged her privately and asked that she post an explanation on Tumblr, as well as replace the text of her stolen works with links to our respective stories, in order to notify any readers who enjoyed these works. Unfortunately, she didn’t respond. Now that she has taken everything down, that’s no longer possible.

It would mean the world to Ellie and I if people would help spread the word about what happened. Last year, between the two of us, we wrote 626,000 words. We poured all our energy and love (and time!) into these stories, and to have someone copy them word for word, lie to people who were kind enough to comment or send asks as if they had thought up the ideas on their own, and interact with other people in the 1D fandom based off of love for OUR writing, is devastating to us both. This was going on for at least 2.5 months.

Besides the two stories listed above, we know As Long As You’re Smiling was actually copied from ellessey-writes​​‘s fic The Chronicles of the Virgin Asahi. We think this is the first fic they grabbed, due to the note on the summary. Here is a masterpost of all Ellie’s works from last year, and a link to her AO3.

They also took my incubus story Dreamless and reposted it as Lilin. This fic was posted as a part of a collab for my close friend’s artwork. reallycorking​​ drew this (VERY NSFW) art as part of a 30 day challenge, and the two of us worked together for a full month on Dreamless. Here is my fic masterpost for last year, and a link to my AO3.

I wanted to share links to the rest of our work because we don’t know how many stories she stole (it seemed like there were around 10 in total). We didn’t even have time to make a note of everything before she removed her accounts. So we don’t know what people read and might want to re-find (if there’s any interest cross-fandom).

Again, the One Direction fandom has been so incredibly supportive (Gina, Ange, phd-mama, Emmi, Lisa and everyone who was so helpful and understanding). Ellie and I started off the morning crushed, and now I have comments in my inbox on the fics that were stolen, and asks on Tumblr showing support, and it’s nearly brought me to tears. Thank you all so much. If anyone who sees this would be kind enough to get the word out there in any way (reblogs, just telling your friends who’ve read these stories, anything!!), we’d be incredibly grateful.

THANK YOU, to everyone who takes the time to read this.

anonymous asked:

Sorry for asking but you're okay with straight allies, right?

in my line of work, you eventually reach a point where you know when you’re being followed. you stop registering exactly what it is that tips you off. it’s one thing, or it’s the other; whether it was the snap of a twig, the skittering of an animal into hiding behind you, or an eerie silence drawn too long, it doesn’t matter. what matters is how you deal with it after you realise.

this is one of those moments i can’t dial back to figure out what set it off. i’m focused on the details of the present. i’m focused on making sure i don’t change my pace. making sure i don’t look like i suspect a thing. the rhythm of walking is familiar, almost casual. you don’t live this long if you’re not good at what you do, and accusations of ego be damned, i am one of the best.

the checklist in my head runs faster than the small hand of my watch, a blur of contingencies. marked: the gun readied in my grasp, the knife in my boot, the twinge of pain in my left shoulder. security got one good hit in before i was gone. some part of me thinks i let that happen. that i wasn’t entertained enough to bring flawlessness into tonight’s equation.

it’s an easy figure that i’ve been trailed since i left. the night is disturbingly still, even for what it is. in this part of the world, the darkness brings a cold that bites right into your bones.

the alley i turn into smells overwhelmingly of blood.

not willing to take chances, i don’t bother stopping to see where the scent’s coming from. i could be drowning in the stuff now and not know it. by the overpowering stench, i might well be. the minutes have been gauged down to the final heartbeat, and this is exactly when it’s about to turn. whoever is following me should know by now that i know. the only thing we have left to figure out is who wins this game.

it doesn’t take longer than a few seconds, drenched in vertigo. there is a resounding crack against the brick wall of the alleyway, and i whirl to take a step forward, handgun-first. my free hand has found its position at the switch on my earpiece, ensuring HQ will hear every second of what is about to ensue. the breath i’ll use to tell my attacker to stand down has already been taken by the time i realise there is no one there.

jerkily, as if witnessed under strobe lights, i lower my weapon. the quiet buzz of my earpiece seems muted underneath my suddenly racing heart. everything flickers. in the suffocated seconds between, i raise my hand to my face. the alley doesn’t smell like blood; my nose is bleeding. i search blearily for a solution. poison? that would explain the fogginess.

a swear under my breath gets filtered out and hidden underneath the sickly saccharine tone of a voice behind me. “sorry for asking,” it croons, “but…”

my vision is a flashing, afterimage-infested mess as i spin to try to track the source of the voice. what i see is something i’m not certain i really see at all, something i doubt you could find in daylight. something i doubt you could find anywhere that still holds life. i fumble for my gun again but the beast before me takes hold of my hand and stills it. it is so close to my face that i can see nothing else. an acrid smell, like petrol, covers up even the blood.

in my head i’m begging for something to happen, praying that my earpiece still works. someone has to hear this. someone has to help or snap me out of this nightmare. i’ve been here long enough to know how to show no fear, but it still catches up with me. i hear the twinge in my voice, spitting, “don’t touch me,” and pretending it is some kind of threat.

the beast doesn’t heed it. it leans in further, brushing against my cheek. i do not want to hear the question it has. i expect it to kill me.

“… you’re okay with straight allies, right?” the beast whispers, and i hear the remaining static from HQ fizzle out.

anonymous asked:

Hi, what exactly is Stargate (like, what is the plot, how many seasons, that kind of thing)? I've seen it mentioned in combination with Leverage in some of your posts, and I've sort of picked up some of the character names from being on the internet, but I'm still not sure what it actually is. Thanks!!

What a delightful question that I’m going to have a ridiculous amount of fun answering, probably using too many gifs.

First, the bare bones facts: Stargate is a franchise that began with the 1994 movie Stargate, which was then developed into the TV show Stargate: SG-1 which began in 1997 and picked up about a year after the movie ended. SG-1 had 10 seasons and 2 made-for-TV movies. There are also 2 spinoffs, Stargate: Atlantis and Stargate: Universe. Atlantis has 5 seasons, and its first season coincides with season 8 of SG-1, with both beginning in 2004, with some fun but not strictly essential crossover between the two. Universe has 2 seasons and began in 2009, after both SG-1 and Atlantis had ended. I mostly blog about SG-1, but I enjoy all three shows and will at least briefly explain Atlantis and Universe in the course of this post, FOR FUNSIES.

The basic premise of the whole thing is that there are these devices (built by aliens, OF COURSE) called Stargates, which create wormholes that allow for basically instantaneous travel between planets all throughout the Milky Way (and other galaxies as well, it turns out, but that’s later).

The movie involves the US Air Force, with the help of the BEST FICTIONAL ARCHAEOLOGIST IN EXISTENCE FIGHT ME, figuring out how to work the Stargate, using it to travel to another planet, and helping the locals overthrow the evil parasitic alien who was posing as the Egyptian god Ra in order to enslave them.

SG-1 starts with Earth humans learning that “Ra” actually belonged to an entire race of evil parasitic aliens who used the personas of various gods to enslave humans throughout the galaxy. At which point, NATURALLY, the plucky Earth humans say “fuck that shit” and also “ooh, a whole galaxy to explore, HOLD MY BEER” and start having adventures and liberating the galaxy.

Atlantis is about Earth humans finally discovering the lost city of Atlantis over in another galaxy, and the adventures and struggles they have setting up a colony there. Also, space vampires.

Universe is about a bunch of Earth humans accidentally stranding themselves aboard an alien-built spaceship that is going they don’t know where in order to find the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. It’s much darker and more sort of psychological than the other two shows. Also more diverse. I like it a lot, but for different reasons than I like SG-1 and Atlantis.

SG-1 owns my heart, because it’s the show that helped me fall in love with sci-fi. Also, it has Dr. Daniel Jackson. It wrestles with what it means to be human and ethics and all kinds of really good shit. It’s not perfect, and the early seasons especially have some pretty major issues with sexism and white savior complexes in certain episodes, but overall I personally find it more than worth it, and the main reason is the characters, who you now get to hear me yell about my love for.

Keep reading

4

Okay so this is a little complicated and I’ll do my best to explain.

It’s a crossover between Be More Chill and Dear Evan Hansen. Jeremy and Michael take the place of Evan and Connor and vice versa

I couldn’t decide whether they should keep whether they have glasses or not so I went with both.

I also couldn’t decide if it should be Michael on Jeremy’s cast or Boyf so I did both. That should explain all the minor differences. God, this is overly complicated.

or maybe it’s not and you all understand it and I wasted my time explaining it oh well

I may be mildly proud of my “#YouWillBeMoreChill” and it might’ve taken way too long to come up with a good name for “Be Less Forgotten” but with my friends, I was able to come up with that. (one suggested “Be less suicidal”)

Sleepover|

Unwanted sleepover with Jungkook takes a surprising turn of events.


Masterlist

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Mutual Masturbation

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1,6k


Originally posted by theking-or-thekid


This is not how you pictured your night ending.

“Seriously move over! You’re taking up the whole goddamn bed!” You whispered screamed at the overgrown baby that laid next to you. Just earning grunt from him.

“Seriously Jeon!”

“Fine.” He grumbled as he shifted maybe one inch further away from you.

Yes, this was definitely not how you pictured your night ending.


When Jin invited you to a party you figured it was a date. You had waited months for Jin to actually ask you out. You had a crush on him since the beginning of the semester when Somin first introduced you two. 

You hit it off straight away. You always hung out in a group setting and never alone. And finally, you thought he mustered up the courage to ask you out.

Sure it was kind of strange that your date would be at a party. That should’ve been the first red flag. But hey he asked you and that’s all that mattered to you.You spent two hours doing your hair and makeup. Even changing your outfit 10 times until you found the perfect one.

Everything was going smoothly so far. You picked up Jin from his dorm. And the car ride was going well. A little small talk here and there. Jin was on a roll with his dad jokes. Jokes that the rest of your friends found lame but you liked a lot.

The problem was when you arrived at the party. The second you got there Jin completely abanded you and you didn’t see him for the rest of the night. And just as you were about to leave one of his friends came looking for you. You thought, of course he didn’t forget about you. He couldn’t have.

And you were right he didn’t because he thought you were his designated driver. That’s right he didn’t ask you out to the party as a date. He asked you out you so you could be his designated driver!

You were only invited under the pretenses that you would be the designated driver for him and his friends. Also, might I add his very, very drunk friends.

No one was sober enough to tell you where they lived. And apparently, they didn’t live on campus like Jin did. So you had no choice but to take them back to your off-campus apartment.

You knew them, of course, you wouldn’t have taken complete strangers back to your apartment. You didn’t want to but you couldn’t let these three drunken morons fend for themselves.


That’s how you ended up with Jeon Jungkook in your bed and not Jin.

You hated this little brat. You only tolerated him because he was one of Jin’s best friends. But still, you hated this punk.

“Seriously noona I barely have any space left.” he whined.

“Seriously Jungkook you shouldn’t even be in my bed! You should be on the fucking floor or outside for all I care!” You yelled at him this time not caring if you woke the others anymore. You gave him a good kick in the leg hoping he’d finally just out of your bed.

“Ow! You should think about joining the soccer team noona.” He said as he rubbed his leg while not so subtly moving closer to you. 

You sighed in defeat. You gave up the sooner you fell asleep the sooner these morons would be out of your apartment.


It’s probably been a good 30 minutes since you closed your eyes and attempted to let sleep overcome you. You were almost there 10 minutes ago. But it’s as if Jungkook knew you were about to fall asleep. And decided he wanted to move around just to spite you.

You couldn’t take it anymore you opened your eyes and started yelling at Jungkook. “Seriously Jungkook what are you–” Your words quickly caught in your throat. Your mouth hung open at the sight. 

The younger boy laid next to you with his eyes screwed shut. His back slightly arched whilst his hand wrapped around his–his cock. Holy shit Jungkook was fucking jacking off in your bed!

Keep reading

Imagine falling in love with Jensen while working on the set of Supernatural.


Only You

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared, mention of Danneel

Warnings: angst, fluff, language

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is the SIXTH fic for my 6k celebration and one year fic-i-versary. The line requested was, “Just because you love someone, doesn’t mean you should stick around and screw up their life.” It will be highlighted in the fic. This is written for @blacktithe7 I really don’t know where this came from. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.

Tags at the end

Feedback welcome and appreciated

Keep reading

Apples and Heroes

Originally posted by kissthejotun

Request: Can you please do a Star Trek story with Bones and the words “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “your pulse is weak,” and “all the apples in the world wouldn’t stop me.” They aren’t in your prompts list I hope that’s okay? Thank you!

Keep reading

Pride and Prejudice, and Consent

Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive relationship analysis!

One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her. Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with passion—even love.

Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection, seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed by her refusal to accept them.

Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.

Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.“

Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman: she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his bounds.

The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is that she cannot be serious in her refusal. 

 "I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

So elevated is his own sense of self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she said:

  “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”

What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:

  “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”

And again:

  "When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

  “Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”

And again:

   "You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.“

   ”I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“

And again:   

"You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

In fact, Collins only stops pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously, we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to act this way.

By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means, Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:

   "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.“

The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she explain why she rejected him, but rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.

After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an apology that he has occupied her for so long:

   "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.

But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter, convincing her to give him another chance?

No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.

It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not demands) that she read it:

“Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?“

Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her wishes clear:

 "Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. 

While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in mind.

When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:

 "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”

Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family. Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).  

How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved. During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.

 But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

   "It taught me to hope,“ said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and accepted it.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of consent, I think we can do better in our own time.


EDIT: Continued here.