letters written

anonymous asked:

Can you do #8 on the soulmates au list for David please? Btw I absolutely adore your writing style and the new fanfic you're working on ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(I almost made myself cry while writing this one so enjoy the David feels)

Word count: 1,349


The neat, round letters had written themselves onto your right hip with a pleasant warmth as soon as you turned 18. You had no idea what they meant, or what context they were delivered in, but you loved them nonetheless.

‘We’re here to have a great summer, and remember kids, Campe Diem!’

You couldn’t lie, every summer since you had first seen it you were more concerned with finding your soulmate than actually - as the writing said - having a great summer. Countless hours had been spent pouring over each individual word, as if the inflection placed on the word ‘to’ would lead you any closer to your soulmate.

“Go to a summer camp. What’s the worst that can happen?”

A summer camp did make the most sense. But as a camper or counsellor? You lifted the hem of your shirt to peek at the lettering (even though you had every word memorised) and traced the smooth curves of the neat handwriting. ‘Kids.’ Your soulmate was addressing children, and your mind immediately pictured a tall man with a large smile and a bag of trail mix at his side. Counsellor it was, then.

Keep reading

ID #76268

Name: Alycia
Age: 18
Country: USA

Hi! I’m Alycia but you can also call me West. I really like the idea of making new friends from all different cultures all over the world! I love learning new languages and have a wide range of interests. I think it would be super cool to exchange hand written letters by snail mail but if the mailing is too expensive I understand. I’m a fluent Mandarin Chinese speaker but I’d like to practice my writing more. I love going to art museums and I do lots of creative writing (mostly horror). I’m LGBT so it’d be cool to have more friends who are LGBT but it’s not a requirement or anything. Hope we can be friends!! :)

Preferences: I would prefer to talk with people who are under 26 or over 56 if old people use this too haha

sammie-em  asked:

Do you have any advise for coming out?

That’s a pretty broad question, but I guess my best suggestion would be:

  • Start with people you feel safe coming out to.
  • It gets so much easier over time, so just…I know it’s hard initially, but remember every time you come out it gets so much easier.
  • If you’re worried someone will be violent - use text to tell them. This is especially good for family, a hand-written letter or an email can tell so much more than a text.
  • Don’t do it if you’re not ready. There is literally 0 pressure to be out. You are not less valid just because you’re closeted. You owe no one to come out to them, you’re not deceiving them, you’re just being safe.

📣📣📣 this is a public service announcement for those following the grenfell tower story abroad 📣📣📣

a lot of the foreign press seems to ignore the main tenets of the story so if you may here is a brief breakdown of why it’s shaping up to be a defining national moment in the uk:

***the housing tower is located in north kensington. it is social housing for poor and working class londoners of which a huge number are BME. the borough of kensington and chelsea is the richest in london and marked by devastating inequality and gentrification that some poorer residents describe as social cleansing. non-luxury housing in london is generally a huge issue that has gone unaddressed for decades now, and privatisation of social housing provision has meant that profit motive and cost cutting have been strongly featured in poor people’s housing. race, housing and poverty are also tightly linked in london; this was a poor and ethnically diverse community as you can see if you watch videos from the scene. first victims we knew that sadly perished were a black british female photographer and her mum, and and a syrian refugee.

***the council is tory and they have done less and less for the housing of its poorer residents and more to accommodate wealthy people. for example, the council is sitting on 300 million in cash reserves yet somehow didn’t find cash to install basic fire sprinklers that the residents asked for? not only that but the 8 billion refurbishment that included the now notorious cladding was partly done for insulation but partly also to make the ugly 1970s council estate look more aesthetically pleasing for the swanky neighbourhoods nearby. the more flammable material used in the cladding saved the building contractor a whopping £5000

***government has been tory for the past 7 years and the order of the day has been austerity. public services have been cut to the bone and so has local authority funding. social housing managers who often work for subcontracted private providers paid by the council have a huge case load. they are encouraged to spend less and less time on health and safety (including fire safety) and more on asking intrusive questions about people’s jobs and incomes because of the tory culture of dividing people into the “deserving and undeserving poor” ie those who work and those who don’t. people on benefits are not prioritised when it comes to housing despite individual circumstances, which is why in grenfell you had 70 year olds with limited mobility living on the 22nd floor.

***uk has probably the most entrenched class system in the world and trashing of the working classes and the poor is almost a national hobby for some people. right-wing tabloid media is extremely powerful and they paint a picture of benefit cheats and non-working immigrants even though most poor people in britain work (they are the new working poor who have terrible wages and live in squalid and unaffordable housing) and most BME people were born here, they’re not immigrants

***if you are poor you are largely voiceless and meaningless to this neoliberal tory government. the tenants had written letters raising concerns about fire safety and in response were threatened with legal action. of course they couldn’t respond because tories have cut legal aid because of… yes, austerity. meanwhile tory ministers have been sitting on reports about fire safety in council flats including one from a coroner of a case where six people died in a housing block in south london in 2009. the prime minister didn’t meet the people affected at the scene and the response has generally been very poor. local council has been nowhere to be seen and the donations have come from ordinary people – proper working class solidarity in the face of state that treats them with utter contempt.

TL;DR: austerity kills, gentrification kills, indifference kills. people want justice, they are angry. why did up to 150 people die? this was preventable – it’s scandalous, horrific. it’s like poor people’s lives don’t matter in britain – a hurricane katrina moment for the uk. so please watch videos of THE PEOPLE, poor and working class londoners, who are suffering and expressing anger. don’t listen to theresa may, tories and the bbc trying to sanitise the story. this has everything to do with inequality, poverty, race and most of all CLASS. make those people visible again and help us change things because honestly this is the breaking point and we don’t need people spreading a false narrative abroad. cheers, peace out

Best Lines From Each Hamilton Song

Alexander Hamilton: You could never back down, you never learned to take your - TIME

Aaron Burr, Sir: Talk Less. Smile More.

My Shot: I think ya pants look hot ;)

The Story of Tonight: Raise a glass to freedom…

Schuyler Sisters: You want a revolution? I want a revelation!

Farmer Refuted: Is he in Jersey?

You’ll Be Back: I will kill your friends and family… to remind you of, my, love DA DA DA D-

Right Hand Man: Burr! Sir? Close the door on your way out.

Winters Ball: If you could marry a sister, you’re rich son. Is it a question of if Burr, or which one?

Helpless: Laughing at my sister cause she wants to form a harem: I’m just saying if you really loved me you would share him. HA!

Satisfied: … He’d be mine. She would say “I’m fineshe’d be lying.

The Story of Tonight (Reprise): You are the worst, Burr

Wait For It: When they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect 

Stay Alive: I’m a general. WEEE!!

Ten Duel Commandents: Okay so we’re doing this

That Would Be Enough: And if this child shares a fraction of your smile, or a fragment of your mind, look out world, that would be enough.

Guns And Ships: No one has more resilience or matches my practical tactical BRILLIANCE.

History Has Its Eyes On You: You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.

Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down): Immigrants, we get the job done.

What Comes Next: Awesome. Wow.

Dear Theodosia: I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll make a million mistakes.

Nonstop: Hamilton wrote THE OTHER FIFTY-ONE

What’d I Miss?: I guess I basically missed the late 80’s.

Cabinet Battle #1: Turn around, bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.

Take a Break: You’ve written “My Dearest, Angelica…. “

Say No To This: That was my wife who you decided to- fuuu

The Room Where It Happens: The art of the compromise, hold your nose and close your eyes.

Schuyler Defeated: They don’t need to know me they don’t like you.

Cabinet Battle #2: You must be outta your GODDAMN MIND

Washington On Your Side: SOUTHERN MOTHERFUCKING DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICANS!!!

One Last Time: I’m sorry wha-?

I Know Him: They will tear each other into pieces, Jesus Christ this will be fun :D

Adams Administration: Siddown John YOU FAT MOTHER——

We Know: My god…

Hurricane: … We were sick and she was holding me, I couldn’t seem to die.

The Reynolds Pamphlet: You could never be satisfied, god I hope your satisfied.

Burn: You, you, you

Blow Us All Away: Everything is legal in New Jersey…

Stay Alive (Reprise): I know, you did everything just right.

It’s Quiet Uptown: Forgiveness. Can you imagine?

The Election of 1800: Well I’ll be damned…

Your Obedient Servant: Here’s an itemised list of thirty years of disagreements. Sweet Jesus

The World Was Wide Enough: America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story: Oh I can’t wait to see you again, it’s only a matter of time.


Bonus Songs:

Congratulations: You know why Jefferson can do what he wants? He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response

Dear Theodosia (Reprise): We bleed and fight for you, sometimes it seems that’s all we do.

Ten Things, One Thing (I genuinely can’t decide between these five so here you go):

- The sun is in my eyes. I am almost giddy as I watch it slowly rise over my New York City.

- I examine the gun that we shared. Philip never hurt a soul, he must have been so scared.

- I feel a sense of calm fill me, it’s not in his political interest to kill me.

- My Eliza is still asleep. I left her a letter, I could have written it better.

- They put us through our paces, we count to ten. God, I can’t wait to see her again.


Just a quick note to say I didn’t forget Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us, I just decided against including it because, in Lin’s own words, it’s more of a scene than a song. Really it’s just the The Story of Tonight sung over some quite, uneventful dialouge (very poetic given the content of that dialouge) so I decided to just leave it out. Anyways thanks for reading my random post I guess? Bye bye

things that make neil feel real:

  • dan’s facebook photo albums
  • being spun around until he’s dizzy whenever he sees matt
  • having to clean up cat litter :(
  • the fond hair ruffle wymack gives him when he comes to visit palmetto
  • that one time all of the foxes managed to get together for a reunion (and the repeat cuddle pile that followed)
  • allison’s vague tweets that are very obviously about his friends
  • team game night (also known as neil trying not to nod off in the corner but loving the time spent with his family anyways)
  • articles about how far the foxes have come
  • stadiums filled with thousands of exy fans cheering him and his team on
  • being part of kevin’s acceptance speech as he’s inducted into the hall of fame
  • being able to sign his name on official documents
  • drinking pricey fruit smoothies (and pretending not to notice whenever andrew steals a sip)
  • having a ring full of keys that he actually uses and a ring full of keys that he can’t bring himself to give up
  • waking up in the morning and feeling like he’s home

things that andrew finds himself living for:

  • weekly skype calls with nicky
  • an amazon account that’s used to send impulse buys to the other minyards (including but not limited to: chemistry cat sweatshirts, a kevin day limited edition operation game, a recipe book of various chocolate desserts)
  • letters from renee, written in her barely-legible handwriting and usually covered with animal stickers
  • hot chocolate and phone calls with bee
  • robin slowly upping her stats and the way she’d excitedly call to tell him (as if he’s the one who actually cares)
  • the occasional opportunity to blackmail kevin into letting him skip court practices using embarrassing photos from their college days
  • making the team’s nutritionist cry
  • volunteer charities that work to help kids stuck in the foster care system/abusive households
  • the hilarious expressions of surprise on the foxes’ faces when they see him take care of his nieces at their reunion
  • the tea place a few streets down that trade him pictures of his and neil’s cats doing dumb things with whatever desserts they have left over
  • waking up in the morning and feeling like he’s home
Birthday Girl (NSFW/Smut)

Originally posted by dailytomholland

Author: Arfrona-and-Marvel

Word Count: 2965

Warnings: Cursing/Sex

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader

Type: Fluff, Smut

Note: Virgin reader and Peter :) 

Requested: nope

——————

Y/N’s POV

Peter covers my eyes with a blindfold and helps me stand up.

“This is kinky, Parker, what are you planning?”

Peter laughs nervously and I feel him getting more timid with his actions.

“Will you stop, Y/N? It’s just to keep the surprise a surprise.”

I giggle at his obviously flustered state from my sex joke.

I let him lead me out of the room to the unknown destination, one hand holding mine and the other on my waist as he gently pushes me along.

“Peterrrrrrr it’s taking so loooooong,” I whine, just to annoy him.

“Just a little farther, Y/N, bear with me here.”

My foot brushes against something soft.

“Is that another gym sock?”

“Uhhhhh… No it isn’t…” There’s a loud shuffle as he tries to kick the offending article away discreetly.

Oh, he’s so adorable when he’s lying.

He stops and lets go of my hand and waist. There’s a soft scrape to my left as he pulls out a chair.

Heh. Pulls out.

“Here ya go, love.” He takes my hand and gently guides me into the seat. He slips and I miss the seat, landing on the soft, carpeted floor instead. There’s a solid thunk as what sounds like Peter’s head collides with the wall.

“OH MY GOD PETER ARE YOU OKAY?” I tear off the blindfold and see the poor boy rubbing his head, where there’s bound to be a bump forming.

“I’ll live.”

“Oh you poor man-child, let me get you some ice.”

I rush towards the kitchen, noting the very nicely set-up dinner table for two.

He must be devastated that he couldn’t properly surprise me.

I stop as I enter the kitchen, trying to process the scene before me.

He hobbles up behind me, trying to stop me.

“Wait, Y/N, don’t go into the- ah shit you’ve seen it.”

I look around to see the room decorated with strings of lights and roses.

“Oh, Peter. You shouldn-” Peter kisses me before I could finish my sentence.

“You like it?” He asks as he pulls me closer for another kiss, deeper than the last.

I pull away before nodding, “Yes, Peter, I love it. Thank you.”

He beams at me before leading me to the table and pulling out a chair for me.

“My princess,” he jokes, gesturing for me to take a seat.

I sarcastically bow, “My knight.”

—–

After dinner, I stand up to help clean up the dishes.

Peter shoos me away and tells me to sit down while he takes care of it.

I don’t bother arguing with him, because I know fighting with him would be pointless with his stubbornness.

I stay seated while he collects the dishes and kisses my nose before leaving to wash them.

I watch him walk away and smile to myself as I take a rose from the vase on dining table and twirl it in my hands.

I giggle to myself as I think about our past two years together.

How sweet Peter was with his cute pickup lines and our weekly movie dates.

How shy he is when we kiss and how much of a gentleman he is.

I continue to reminisce until I see Peter standing in the doorway.

His cheeks are red and his hands are shaking a little.

He’s nervous.

“Peter, love, are you alright?” I ask.

He gives me a half smile and he walks over slowly, his body language screaming nervousness.

“Peter?”

“I, uh, I have one more gift for you,” he says.

“Peter! This is already so much, please that’s enough,” I laugh and I stand up to hug him.

He hesitates before hugging me back and now I see how nervous he really is.

“Peter? What’s wrong?” I ask, noticing that his legs are shaking.

He looks away from me as he reaches into his pocket and gives me a small index card with the letter V written on it.

Oh.

I look up at him questionably and he rubs the back of his neck, his face slowly acquiring the color of the roses on the table.

“It’s um. I-I, uh,” Peter stumbles.

“I get it Peter, V-Card,” I look up at him and smile before kissing his chin and then his nose.

“It’s a very unique present, Peter,” I say as I lean closer to Peter and kiss him again. He places his hands gently on my hips.

I lean back and smile, “So I can cash this in anytime I want?” I ask.

His face reddens a little before he nods.

“How about right now?” I ask slowly, hoping he would get a hint and suggest something.

He looks at me in the eye for a few moments before breaking contact and looks down at his feet.

“I’ve got another surprise for you, love,” Peter says, reaching over to the counter and giving me the blindfold again.

I look at him suspiciously before putting the blindfold on again.

“Just trust me, Y/N,” Peter says softly. I relax a little and reach out to hold his hand as he leads the way.

I am assaulted with a barrage of smells as we turn into a room, where everything sounds slightly muffled, as if it’s filled with soft furniture. My feet brush against… rose petals? I smell my favorite scented candles as well as… Febreze. Lots of Febreze.

Dammit Parker why don’t you clean this house more often?

His hands leave my shoulders for a few seconds and I hear some shuffling around me, no doubt he’s cleaning up whatever’s been left strewn around his ro-

The blindfold falls off suddenly and I’m left shocked at the scene in front of me.

Though I’ve been in his room a million times before, I’ve never seen it this clea-

Romantic. It’s never been this romantic.

Everything’s been swapped or covered with a red velvet and the lights are off, leaving only the candles to light the room. A gasp  escapes my lips. Peter, who is in the process of furiously trying to shove what looks to be a red and blue suit into the closet, whips his head around, eyes wide open.

“It fell off? Shit, now I can’t badmouth the baddies anymore about their lousy knots… Anyways, surprise?” he tries with a tight smile.

God, he’s so adorable when stuff goes wrong.

“Peter… just ask me…”

“Well, I mean you don’t have to, but… I…” Peter tries to start but fails to finish his sentence as I

lean closer, until our noses are almost touching. We stay that way, looking into each other's’ eyes for a while.

“Hi,” Peter greets me.

“Are you going to kiss me yet?” I ask, slightly impatiently. Face redder, than the cushions, he does just that.

He makes the first move, turning his head and closing the space between us. My lips meet his, agonizingly slowly. His hands cup my face and pull me closer, and I return the kiss with a passion I didn’t know I had. Our lips locked, he pulls us down onto the bed. One of his hands finds its way into my hair while the other one grasps my neck. My own hands find their way under his shirt and around the back of his head. He bites my lip, accidentally, and I jerk back, not expecting the bite.

“Oh my god Y/N I’m so sorry oh my god are you okay oh my god are you bleeding?” he babbles, moving his head around to check my lips.

I quickly run my tongue over my lips to check for blood

“I’m okay, Peter.””

“Hi, okay, Peter, I’m Peter,” he quips back,not missing a beat.

I laugh at Peter lightly before pulling down his pants.

“W-Wait, Y/N, are- are- are you sure ab-”

I cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.

“Shhhhhh. Yes, Peter. I am sure. Now shut up and let me make you happy,” I say, kissing his nose to reassure him.

“But, I want to make you feel good fir-” Peter tries to object but lets out a moan instead as I palm his member through his boxers.

I smile as I gently squeeze tighter and watch him throw his head back and moan a little louder. I then pull down his boxers as I eagerly snake down his body and watch as his member is freed from its restraints. I wrap my hand around it and give it a small pump, a little intimidated by his size, even though it’s not fully hard yet. I watch as small beads of precum leak from his head and roll down his shaft. Without a second thought, I lick along the underside of his cock, starting from the base all the way to the tip. I swirl my tongue around the head, lapping up the droplets of precum.

I hear Peter groan as I pull him into my mouth, inch by inch, using my tongue to lick him slowly and hollowing my cheeks to suck him deeper.

I smile to myself as I hear Peter curse and moan above me, I feel his hands in my hair as he caresses my face, urging me to continue.

I lean back and pump him a little more before sucking the head of his cock again.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Peter moans as I start to slowly take in as much of him as possible and pull back. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat as I take him deeper and deeper. I pump his shaft at the base with my free hand as I begin to feel my panties dampening.

“Y/N, please slow down, I don’t want to cum yet,” Peter practically begs.

I look up at him and smile to myself as I let him go with a pop.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down.

I take this opportunity to turn my back to him and take off my pants slowly. I bend over more than I have to so that I give him a good view of my ass. I can see his jaw drop in the mirror.

Pffft. He ain’t seen nothing yet.

My jeans join the not-so-well-hidden pile of dirty laundry in the corner. I lift my shirt slowly, especially around my chest, since I want him to see that I’ve “forgotten” my bra at home. I hear a sharp intake of breath as he realizes this. The shirt joins my pants and I’m left Stark™-naked except for my panties. I turn around to face him.

Are human even supposed to be that red?

He has a dumbfounded expression on his face that I’ve never seen before.

I laugh a little as I climb back onto the bed and kiss him.

He kisses me back after recovering from his shock. He flips me over so that I’m on my back.

He attacks my neck before traveling downward, past my exposed breasts leaving a trail of kisses past my stomach.

I moan loudly as he reaches my hips. He kisses all along the band of my panties and kisses my nether lips through the thin fabric.

I whimper as he hooks a finger into the elastic of my panties and pulls them down slowly. He leaves small bites on the inside of my thighs as he passes them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the sodden article of clothing sail across the room in the general direction of the rest of my clothes. He works his way back up my legs, fingers ghosting the insides of my legs before parting them gently. His left hand grip the top of my right thigh as he uses his hand to spread my lips. I clutch the sheets as he dips a finger into my wet and aroused center. He smiles to me before scooting closer to my crotch, all the while making a “come hither” motion with his finger. His lips meet my other lips as his head comes down.

Within moments, his tongue finds my clit.

Has he done this before?

“I pay attention in sex ed, Y/N,” Peter jokes as my cheeks redden in the realization that I had said it out loud.

He chuckles a little bit before leaning in and kissing my thighs before sucking my clit again.

I moan loudly and clutch the sheets harder. I feel another finger join the first and his other hand moves up to hold my hips in place. I squirm and whimper as his tongue runs over my clit, lapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers spread my opening  to give his tongue to my core. I shiver as his tongue moves in and out of my entrance.

“Ohh, fuck Peter…” I moan, willing him to go faster. He pulls his tongue out of me and he moves his two fingers again, thrusting faster than before.

His tongue moves back up to my clit and begins attacking the small nub at the top of my folds.

My moans become more incoherent as he continues to lick, suck, and lap at every single part of my most private area, leaving me a babbling mess.

As my walls begin to clench around his fingers, Peter speeds up his thrusting and ravages my clit harder as he feels me gets closer to the edge until he brings me over the edge. My back arches and my toes curl almost painfully as the immense pleasure of the orgasm wracks my body completely. I see stars as my eyes roll back into my head and a loud, breathy moan escapes my lips.

Peter sucks gently on my clit and slows his thrusting as the waves of euphoria roll over me, further intensifying the pleasure and prolonging my orgasm.

As the pleasure gently fades away, Peter kisses my clit, then kisses a trail up my stomach, stopping at my breasts. He licks each nipple, gently sucking on each one before moving on. He stops at my neck, planting a kiss there before moving his head up so that his eyes are level with mine.

“Do you want to go further?”

“No, Peter, I wanted to stop and talk about multi-variable calculus,” I deadpan, lacing as much sarcasm into my voice as possible.

He smiled devilishly and deadpanned right back, “It just so happened that I needed a little help with my calculus homework, can you help me integrate my natural log?”

I whack him softly with one of the red heart pillows on the bed. “I HATE YOU”

“No you don’t,”

He leans down to kiss me again before reaching over and grabbing a condom from the nightstand.

I laugh as he fails to open it before offering to help. He smiles at me gratefully as I put it on for him. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer and kiss him.

I pull him down to the bed.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Peter,” I say as I guide his cock to my entrance.

I always thought I would be really nervous during my first time. But Peter made it comfortable. Peter slowly moved his hips forward and I gasped, not used to his size.

He’s bigger than I thought.

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” Peter asked nervously.

“No, it just feels kinda tight,” I say, trying to ease his nerves.

Peter continues to insert himself carefully. The pain fades away and it begins to feel pleasurable.

I moan a little and clutch Peter’s back as I quietly beg him to go faster.

Peter starts to thrust his hips at a moderately faster speed and I throw my head back and moan loudly, enjoying this new feeling beyond words.

Peter leans forward to kiss my neck making me mewl in pleasure as I move my arms around the back of his neck to pull his hair.

I kiss his neck and Peter groans loudly.

“Keep doing that and I am not going to last much longer,” Peter says as he leaves another hickey on my collar bone. He hastens his movements and starts thrusting harder.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” I whisper breathily.

Peter straightens up and moves a hand down to my clit and rubs his thumb over it in quick, small circles, pushing me over the edge.

“Peter,” I moan before I see stars for the second time that night. As my walls clenched around his member, I felt Peter also reach his release, groaning loudly and burying his cock deep in my tunnel. His cock twitches and I feel the condom fill up as he releases his seed into me. He lies down, burying his face into the crook of my neck as he tries to slow his breathing. We lay like that for a while, both panting hard and coming down from our orgasms. After a few minutes, he pulls out slowly and kisses my face. I moan as he slides out, and I feel empty when he pulls out completely.

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Mmm,” I respond, exhausted.

Peter laughs and goes to the bathroom to get rid of his condom. I whine, not wanting him to leave, but am too tired to go after him.

Peter comes back a few minutes later with a warm washcloth. He gently moves my legs to clean then before handing me one of his shirts and to wear.

I smile and put it on before lying back down on the bed and drifting off, murmuring, “I love you,” to Peter.

“Happy birthday, Y/N” is the last thing I hear before my reality fades into pleasant nothingness.

—-

Masterlist: x

FACTS ABOUT CONNOR MURPHY (spoilers)

So I have decided to post all the facts and hints about Connor Murphy’s past that are shown in the musical. It’s hard to make out considering people in the fandom usually focus on the lies Evan tells to figure out Connor’s personality.

To get this conclusion (which I will post in a second) I literally skipped all scenes concerning Evan’s lies and went directly to the Murphy family and what they say. None of these facts/hints involve what Evan said about Connor.

First of all, I’ll say now that I have put my own interpretation on each of these facts.

And so, I will put all FACTS in BOLD.
Anything out of bold is my own interpretation and how I see it to be. It’s up to you to agree with me or disagree.

First, I will post my conclusions on each family member, and then afterwards, I will post the reasons for each one.

Zoe

Zoe was an emotional and verbal abuse victim. There is no evidence of physical abuse, although there were threats that could have potentially led to that. She has all the right to not grieve over Connor, in all honesty, she could have sent him to the police for what he did, but as an abuse victim, that is very hard to do. Connor was probably the cause of most of her insecurities and she hated him for that. The unhealthy habit of taking out his anger on the nearest person to him probably made him lash out at his sister whenever he had a panic attack. Judging by how he really did care enough to keep the creepy letter about his sister, written by Evan, in his pocket for 3 days before he committed suicide, it’s safe to say that he really regretted being mean to his sister and actually cared about her.

Connor’s mom, Cynthia

Connor’s mom was a woman obsessed with reputation. She’s known as the rich man’s wife, and wants more than anything to be a regular family. But because her son had mental illnesses, her perfect image was ruined. She acted as though she was there for him but when it came down to it, she did nothing. She pushed for therapy but after a while, her husband took him out of it because “it wasn’t worth the money,” and she basically went, “welp, I tried.” I will quote what I say later: Connor’s mom might not actually be sad that her son is gone, but rather, she’s ashamed that her family actually doesn’t care. It seems like Connor’s mom is filled with regret for not being there for her son, and she’s forcing her family to act like they regretted it too, because that’s what a real family should have been like. But this is only a personal theory.

Connor’s dad, Larry

Connor’s dad might be one of the main sources of his depression. It is very obvious to me that Connor’s dad believed him to be a disappointment. He didn’t grieve for his dead son and only played along to make his wife happy. He’s annoyed by the whole situation. It even seemed like he hated the fact that there was fake remnants of his son in Evan. Almost like he wished Connor wasn’t friends with Evan so he could just forget all about him and not need to deal with it. At some point he was a kind father. When they went to the orchard together for picnics, it seems like they were a happy family. Connor’s dad had played with their toy plane together and had some great memories. The whole family practically forgot about this, though. Connor’s dad didn’t cry at his own dead son’s funeral. I think that sums it up.

Connor Murphy

Connor was a complicated person. He had many different mental illnesses. I could research which ones he probably had, but there’s probably already a post somewhere on it already. One thing for sure, is that he was unstable. He might not have been like that his whole life, but at the time of knowing him, the time he was briefly alive in the show, he was incredibly unstable. Everything and anything could set him off, and he probably hated that about himself as well. Pushing away everyone near him that could possibly help and hating himself for doing so, spiraling himself into a closed minded world of self-hate and regret, which is something that many people can relate to, including me. He did a lot of horrible things to his sister and to his family. I don’t blame his family for not actually grieving him, he was a really bad person. The problem is, he could have been a good person as well. He had all the potential to get better. He talked to Evan, probably wishing to say sorry about pushing him earlier in the hall. He was trying, he wanted to try. He wanted to get better. He just gave up too soon.

This post is very long! I’m sorry. If you’d like to read more, I’m putting the reasons I’ve come to these conclusions under the cut.

Remember, ALL FACTS ARE IN BOLD. Anything else is my personal interpretation.

Keep reading

anyways…….. people who dont want to invent time machines to give tchaikovsky and van gogh big old hugs are inherently untrustworthy and should be shown the error in their ways, preferably with the saddest letters written by both of them

3

So this handsome fellow is Peter Doyle, longtime partner of the great American poet Walt Whitman. He is often viewed as an enigmatic figure, but what we do know about him tells us that he was quite remarkable in his own right.

Pete was born in Limerick, Ireland, and came to the United States with his family when he was eight years old. After the death of his father, he worked hard to support his widowed mother and siblings. One of his brothers, Francis, became a police officer in Washington DC, where the family lived. Francis ended up fighting for the Union during the Civil War, while Pete served in the Confederate Army. He saw serious action and was wounded, discharged from the army, and promptly arrested when he attempted to go back to DC. He managed to get off the hook by claiming that, as an Irish immigrant, he really didn’t care one way or the other about Union versus Confederacy. True or not, this worked, and he was freed.

It was at this point that Pete took a job as a horsecar conductor. In the nearly empty streetcar, on a stormy night in early 1865, Pete met Walt Whitman. Pete as 21 at the time, while Walt was 45. According to the younger man, it was pretty much love at first sight. “We understood,” Pete said. Walt was the only passenger on the streetcar, and he didn’t get off at his planned stop. Instead, he rode with Pete until the end of the route, at which point the two men spent their first night together.

They were inseparable for the next seven or eight years. They’d often go for long walks together, with Walt reciting poetry or passages from Shakespeare. I am 100% not making this up.

And their letters. Oh my God, their letters. Not many of Pete’s to Walt survive, but Walt’s to Pete are so full of love that they’d melt the coldest heart. A sample quote: “My darling, if you are not well when I come back I will get a good room or two in some quiet place, and we will live together and devote ourselves altogether to the job of curing you, and making you stronger and healthier than ever. I have had this in my mind before but never broached it to you.”

As this excerpt implies, Walt very much wanted to make a home with his young partner. Sadly, this would never be possible. Pete, as the oldest unmarried son, saw it as his duty to provide for his mother and siblings. They – and the society in which they lived – had certain expectations. While Walt was on good terms with Pete’s family, getting them to accept wholeheartedly this same-sex relationship was an entirely different matter. The two men had to do with spending nights together.

Pete was definitely a tremendously positive influence on Walt and his work. He persuaded Walt to delete three poems dealing with themes of despair and unrequited love from the 1867 edition of Leaves of Grass. He may have also influenced one of his partner’s best-known works, “O Captain! My Captain!” The tone deals with the death of Abraham Lincoln and the end of the Civil War. It is unusual amongst Whitman’s works because it is rhymed, rather than written in free verse. Walt noted that Pete had quite the rhyming ability, often rattling off charming limericks. Also, some have argued that the metaphor of the ship on the rough sea is a kind of nod to Pete’s immigrant background.

The young immigrant was also an eyewitness to the greatest tragedy of the day. He was in the balcony of Ford’s theater on the night of April 14, 1865, when Lincoln was assassinated. He recounted hearing the shot, and then seeing Booth leap onto the stage. Later, Walt drew on this account as a source of information for his annual Lincoln lectures. And he wouldn’t have heard any of it, if it weren’t for his boyfriend!

Walt suffered a stroke in 1873, and moved to Camden, New Jersey, to live with his brother. He ended staying there until his death in 1892. Pete was unable to find work in Camden, though he did eventually get a job in Philadelphia. They saw each other only sporadically, and at one point Walt had gone so long without hearing from Pete that he thought the younger man had died. He hadn’t, but he was put off by the presence of a housekeeper and other caretakers in his partner’s house. He stayed away, for fear of rousing suspicion as to the true nature of the relationship. After Walt’s death, Pete expressed regret for his hesitation.

In 1897, Pete allowed Richard Maurice Bucke (Walt’s literary executor) to publish the letters written by Walt to Pete. The result was a book called Calamus. No one who read it would have any doubts as to the nature of the love between these two men. It made Pete the black sheep of his Catholic family, and his sister forbade the reading of the book in her house. I think we have to give the man some serious props here. It had to take a hell of a lot of courage to let something like that hit the presses in the 19th century. Maybe he was proud of himself, his partner, and their relationship, and saw no shame or sinfulness in any of it. I sincerely hope that this was the case, and that there was an element of defiance of social and religious norms that went into the publication of Calamus.

Pete remained a member of the “inner circle” of Whitman devotees until his own death in 1907. He is buried in DC’s Congressional Cemetery. His grave marker is a short walk from that of Leonard Matlovich, which famously reads, “they gave me a medal for killing two men, and a discharge for loving one.” Nowadays, Peter Doyle is usually included on history tours of the cemetery which focus on LGBT figures.

Excellent work has been done by Whitman scholars in order to rescue Pete from the shadows of history. We are beginning to understand just how much he influenced Walt, and what a fascinating man he is. “Pete the Great,” as he liked to call himself, is an enigma no more.

And now, to finish off this already very long post, a quick guide to the photos:

Top: Pete aged about 25 years, taken in 1868. Cool hat.

Middle: Pete aged 57, taken circa 1900. Cool mustache.

Bottom: Pete and Walt, circa 1868, ridiculously in love. This might be my favorite historical photograph of all time.

And i hope that when it’s 3am and i cross your mind, you feel like you jumped off the highest building and your ribs crack from the fall. And I hope when restlessness is your only companion, you think of me. And as you think of me you realise the beauty of heartbreak, the beauty that I felt for years.
And I hope you fall into piles of regrets and break the spine you never had, and I hope you rummage through your closet looking for pieces of me when someone asks how I’m doing. And I hope you find my first hand written letter to you and you get poisoned with the sweetness and genuineness of the words. And i hope your wounds remain raw long enough for you to realise, to never break another heart, to never betray another love. And I hope that you stare into your reflection in the mirror and you see a tear streaking down your cheek. And I hope that your inflated pride shatters from the weariness of your soul and I hope that the next person that comes to your life, keeps you in your place, unlike me. I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes that I did.
—  i wish you hell
The moment we realized she was blind

Set the Scene: The half-celestial elf Zuriel is staying with the tiefling Lilcyra in a temple that acts as a half-way house for the good aligned travelers at 1 gold per night per person, run by bipedal carnivorous bee people (lovingly named the Beeple) that worship a deity of bees and wary travelers. This is a summary of the events that transpired.

Lilcyra(OOC): So I’m going to write a letter to you-know-who before going to sleep

DM: Yeah that’s fine, just pm me what you’re going to say

Lilcyra writes the letter and the setting switches to Zuriel discussing the Beeple’s odd carnivorous ways and the rotting meat honey they create from this diet.

Some 40 minutes later discussing where Lilcyra can buy this “honey” after sending off her letter

Zuriel: Do you have any idea where the market is or are you just wanting to look around for it.

Lilcyra: In case you didn’t know I’m blind, and new to this town so I don’t know where the market is.

Zuriel: No no I guessed that back when you tried to read the scroll, couldn’t, and then asked me to do it for you. I had just assumed that you were either blind or couldn’t read, not that I would judge you either way-

DM: Wait, oh my god you can’t read…

Cue my confusion as both Lilcyra and our DM bust a gut at the realization that Lilcyra is blind and couldn’t have written a letter, so essentially she just sent a page of scribbled on paper to someone extremely important because they forgot that their character is blind.