Even though the phrase “high school sucks” seems like a useless mantra people repeat just to justify their terrible time in high school, I truly believe this and can account for this. I’ve seen so many people later down the line caught up in their old high school life that they fail to make of life after. High school is only a few years of your life. A lot can happen in those few years- everything between happy and devastating. But high school isn’t all there is to life, I promise. After it’s over, remember to be open to meeting new people, making new experiences, etc. The people who are meant to stay in your life will stay. To those struggling in high school right now, keep fighting. You are more than what life is throwing at you right now and I promise there are much better things down the line.
I can only account for the college route after high school, as that’s the one I’m in right now. But if there’s anything I wished someone would tell me when I had such little hope in high school, it’s this.
@homo-petteri it’s not about headcanons, it’s that the person my post was based on said that trans man junkrat, and by extension all trans men (a group that includes yours truly), were girls which is transphobic as fuck and terrible
I don’t care if someone personally doesn’t headcanon a character as trans, but saying that trans headcanons are wrong (even tho they’re headcanons) and making transphobic comments like that is shitty as hell
i just saw an article on facebook about a 9-year-old boy who spent his spring break selling lemonade to raise money for his grandpas cancer treatment and i’m just sitting over here wondering if this is supposed to be some uplifting story or??? because a literal child should not have to work to keep their grandparent alive god…. healthcare in america is truly terrible
My kid does 13K in damage to studio equip, we handle it like lunatics.
I’m an audio engineer and score arranger full time in my self-owned business. It’s how I provide for myself, my fiancée (also CF), and my mother. I record, mix, and master for bands, voice-overs for local commercials, and write music for people’s weddings, college films, indie games, etc.. It was my passion since I was a child and every day I ask myself why I get paid to do what I do.
You know, until today.
I had a woman schedule to come in because she wanted me to record her monologue for an acting class. I thought it was going to be easy enough. I set up a mic and a music stand in the sound booth and got my workstation prepped for tracking. She was supposed to show up at 3:30, so when 4:00 came around, I called her to ask her if she was still coming. It was my last contract for the day and I was wanting to get home to my fiancée, dogs, and dinner.
“Oh, sorry sweetie, I’m going to be there soon. I just had to get my son from ex-boyfriend.”
4:12, she showed up with her child.
To preface, I’ve never really wanted kids, and don’t really hate them either. But I’ve been childfree of mind for a decade now in league of several bad child experiences in public.
Anyway, I sat her down at the conference table and tried to talk to her about the contract and billing, etc., and just couldn’t because of the six-years-old pile of ovary droppings next to her.
“Mommy it’s cold in here.” “Mommy, I’m bored.” “Mommy, that guy has girl hair.” “Mommy, I want to play on the phone.”
The incessant whining went on for the entirety of the discussion. She did nothing about it. I had an ache in my stomach that this might be a rough session.
I was right.
I showed her to the sound booth, positioned the mic at face level, told her the basics of mic use, and then she floored me with a question.
“Can my son stay in there with you while I do this?” I insisted that he wait in the conference room (across the hall from the control room) because the control room wasn’t a very kid-friendly place considering the 120K of equipment at arms reach.
“But he’s a little angel.”
I shouldn’t have taken her word for it. I SHOULD NOT have taken her word for it. This kid was ANYTHING but. I let him in, told him to sit in one of the office chairs and don’t touch anything. Needless to say, he touched. I queued the recording arm and signaled her to start. She got three lines into her take before I hear a deafening screech and crash.
That little shit machine had just knocked over a $4,000 Korg into a rack with $9,500 of equipment. Completely shattered the touchscreen on the Korg, busted the dials off of half of the effects, and totaled my distressor that I use for almost all the vocals I track.
All of this, by the way, was the room’s length apart from where I told the crotch goblin to stay.
The kid, because of the loud noise, started full-lung screaming. Not crying. Not yelling. Screaming.
The mother, with no hesitation, ran over to the control room and DEMANDED to know what I did to her child. She cussed at me and accused me of hurting her little snot monster. Threatened to sue and even swung at me. When I told her that her precious angel had just racked up at least twelve grand of damages, she said “good”, spit on me, then stormed out, slamming every door on the way. So I pulled the security camera footage and had filed a police report. Grand total: $13,504.25. I also mailed her the bill for her session for good measure.
Of six years in the studio, this is my only truly terrible experience. Fuck mombies. Fuck having children. Thanks for making my vasectomy decision that much easier on me.
What's your favourite Beauty and the Beast song? *smiles* Probably "Beauty and the Beast"? Or maybe "Bonjour"? No, I know, it has to be "Be Our Guest"!
What I say:
Oh, I can't possibly choose, I love them all!
Meanwhile, inside my head:
SO IT'S TIME TO TAKE SOME ACTION, BOYS, IT'S TIME TO FOLLOW MEEEEEEEEE! THROUGH THE MIST, THROUGH THE WOOD, THROUGH THE DARKNESS AND THE SHADOWS, IT'S A NIGHTMARE BUT IT'S ONE EXCITING RIIIIDE! SAY A PRAYER, THEN WE'RE THERE, AT THE DRAWBRIDGE OF A CASTLE AND THERE'S SOMETHING TRULY TERRIBLE INSIDE!
it is absolutely, hilariously astonishing to me how often i’m asked to provide a 25 page extensively sourced MLA formatted academic style paper about why i think pansy parkinson is a character worth discussing, but…here we are, i guess.
first thing’s first—
fanon pansy =/= canon pansy.
canon pansy =/= fanon pansy.
canon pansy is a one-dimensional bully with no discernible personality traits beyond “mean” and “myopic”. she’s villainized by the story. her primary function within the narrative is to follow draco malfoy around. she’s background noise. she giggles, and she shrieks, and she makes fun of harry & co. pansy parkinson is also a figurative dumping ground for an alarming number of awful, misogynistic, enormously unflattering stereotypes for female characters—her relationship with draco is depicted as at least partially one-sided, which makes her seem desperate; she has a tendency to mock other students for their physical appearances, which makes her seem insecure; and she’s likened, more than once, to a literal dog. literally. a dog.
(rowling had a truly terrible habit of peppering the hp books with a lot of these villainous non-characters, who were almost always slytherins, and who were almost always described as either unattractive, unintelligent, or both. see: millicent bulstrode, who is jokingly suspected of being related to a troll. marcus flint, who cheats at quidditch, is held back multiple school years, and has appallingly bad teeth. crabbe & goyle, who are violent, overweight, and implied to need draco’s help with her homework in order to avoid flunking out.)
canon pansy is a poorly constructed caricature of a Mean Girl who readers are meant to find abhorrent. all the ingredients for a spectacularly unlikeable character are there. it’s like rowling had a checklist.
that said, pansy’s role as hermione’s social foil gives her slightly more of a personality than the majority of the other slytherins. pansy is shown to be friendly with blaise zabini, who is, canonically, arrogant and enigmatic and disdainful of draco malfoy. pansy wears a pink dress to the yule ball. she likes unicorns. she possesses leadership qualities—she’s a prefect, she has a “gang” of slytherin girls—and is, by virtue of that, at the very least an above average student. she’s loyal to the people she’s shown to be close to. she cries when draco is hurt. her political affiliations, parentage, and blood status are categorically unknown. we can assume she’s probably a pureblood, and that she chose not to fight against the death eater regime at hogwarts, but she wasn’t a death eater. her dialogue with draco and blaise zabini about the war in HPB was ambiguously supportive, at worst.
(important note—one of the major themes in the books is redemption. see: severus snape. regulus black. the malfoys. rowling’s world building was full of lofty, often convoluted metaphors for racism and homophobia, which had the unfortunate side-effect of humanizing a lot of actively, violently racist characters who would have otherwise been unpalatable to any reasonably self-aware reader. the notion that grand gestures of bravery and self-sacrifice are necessary for redemption—again, see: severus snape, regulus black, the malfoys—is, however, repulsive to me, especially when the argument of worthiness is centered on a teenage girl who has, canonically, spent her formative years hanging around actively, violently racist people. And that’s not even delving into the numerous instances of benign racism perpetrated by characters who aren’t vile slytherin blood supremacists. see: the weasleys. albus dumbledore. rufus scrimgeour. the text goes out of its way to emphasize that combating internalized prejudices is an ongoing battle that has to be consciously fought. it’s a choice. but i digress.)
canon pansy =/= fanon pansy.
fanon pansy =/= canon pansy.
i see a lot of discourse about pansy being an inappropriate “feminist icon"—she’s a bully, she’s mean to other girls, et cetera, et cetera—and the irony of passing that kind of judgment on a female character whose entire narrative existence is predicated on her ability to compare unfavorably to, you know, all the good female characters; it is staggering.
i have loved characters like hermione granger and ginny weasley and fleur delacour since i was a child. they are smart and brave and interesting and Not Like Other Girls. their flaws are considered socially acceptable. hermione is bossy and narrow-minded; but she’s also usually right. ginny is outspoken and reactionary and obstinate; but she’s also pretty and popular and good at sportball. fleur is vain and self-absorbed; but she’s also beautiful and brilliant and fiercely loyal.
Not. Like. Other. Girls.
not like pansy parkinson, for example, who is, almost unapologetically, exactly the kind of girl no one ever wants to be.
she likes pink. she giggles. she cries. she chases after a boy who, at best, seems mostly indifferent to her presence. she’s self-conscious enough about her nose that it’s a well-known sore spot for other students to maliciously poke at. i don’t think we ever get a description of what her voice sounds like, but i instinctively associate her with a high-pitched, nasally whine. she’s petty—see: her interview with rita skeeter in GoF—and she’s narcissistic—see: her stint with the inquisitorial squad—and she’s a cliché, of course, just not an especially creative one.
there are obvious, valid criticisms to be made about how people interact with characters like pansy parkinson. and draco malfoy. and severus snape. but there is a huge difference between blindly excusing or romanticizing those characters’ actions and making an effort to humanize them.
First, I wanted to say that I love love love your Harry Potter fics and what-ifs! thank you so much for writing them :) And I also wondered if you ever written what if the Dursleys had refused to take Harry in?
When Petunia Dursley refused to take Harry in she forfeited his birthright protection, so Dumbledore took the baby to the safest place he knew: Hogwarts.
The applicable staff (mostly just… not Snape) took Harry in on a rotating schedule as he grew from baby to toddler to child. They traded extra credit for babysitting among the older students, and Harry grew up knowing a few dozen different laps that were safe and warm to nap in.
This was a Harry who grew up among books, among old transient walls and learned professors. They gave Binns night duty sometimes, and let him talk young Harry to sleep. This was a Harry whose world changed, on principle, daily. The stairs moved. The walls became doors. You had to keep your eyes open–you had to pay attention. So he did.
He grew up in a school. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was also joy. This was his sanctuary. There was magic in his world from birth.
“The castle will keep him safe,” said Dumbledore, when McGonagall came into his office to complain for the eighth time about Albus’s rather cavalier take on child-rearing. “That’s what it does.”
“Then why do we bother with chaperones ever,” McGonagall said, tempted to shriek it. “Should we let all the children run about willy-nilly at all hours, or just the orphan waifs?!”
“He’s not a student. He’s a ward of Hogwarts. It will take care of him, Minerva.”
McGonagall walked off fuming. A cat with spectacle markings followed Harry almost constantly from ages three through four. At some point McGonagall was far enough behind on her paperwork, and had seen enough suits of armor carry the kid back to his room, enough draperies lift off the wall and tug Harry away from edges, and enough stairs creakingly shift their slope for his tiny toddler legs. She gave a grumpy sigh, stole some of Albus’s lemon drops, and resigned herself to a magical world.
The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, didn’t really like boys but she liked children. She especially liked patience, and politeness, and Harry had been raised by McGonagall’s stern table manners, by Victorian portraiture and quite a few House Elves. He said please, thank you, and ma'am, and as a child he was very cunning in how he got bedtime stories and bedtime snacks out of most every adult he met.
The Grey Lady told the best stories, you see, the ones with riddles in them. You had to think and ask questions to get all the way through them. So he hunted her down with big patient eyes and plates of very smelly cheese, and she told him stories that made him think.
When Harry was stable enough on his feet to walk, and then to run, Sir Cadogan would race him through the castle, the knight scattering banquet tables and galloping across landscapes, twisting through the abstract gallery up on the seventh and a half floor. Harry stumbled and sprinted up stairways and didn’t notice for years the way Cadogan waited at the end of corridors for him to catch up.
Harry was a chubby-legged toddler, in this world–cute cheeks and stubby limbs. It’s a cute image, yes– but this is important. He was a chubby kid. He ate in a high chair on the teacher’s dais, getting peas and mashed potatoes on the adults beside him– Sprout laughed. Snape didn’t.
But this is important–Harry filled his plate. He wobbled up on little legs and grabbed biscuits from the table, slurped his soup, got marinara sauce on his chin and forehead and somehow behind his ear. When he was hungry, he ate. If he snuck down to the kitchens at night, it was for the adventure of it and nothing else. When he was hungry, he ate.
When he was four, they started letting him go sit down with the students. Bill Weasley, on route to be a prefect next year, took him under his wing and scrubbed his face down after meals. Harry was passed around the Hufflepuff table; theirs was the House Common Room he most liked sneaking into, with its barrels and cozy warmth. Nymphadora Tonks turned her nose a dozen different shapes to make Harry laugh, gurgling, as a toddler (and then a child) (and then for the rest of her life, honestly–it never stopped being funny).
The whole Ravenclaw table got distracted from meals, trying to solve riddles from a book one of their Muggleborns had smuggled in.Harry pushed his fork through his gravy, trying to draw out his thoughts but only making squiggles.
It was years before Harry sat at the Slytherin table for the first time–no one had ever set him down there, like they had with the others. But he liked green–it was the color of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, where he went and napped sometimes in winter. It was the color of his mother’s eyes, from the little book of moving pictures Hagrid had given him when he was three.
All the Slytherin kids seemed big, but everyone Harry ever met seemed big–except for Flitwick, who was seeming smaller with every growth spurt. He leaned forward, teetering on the bench, and grabbed a chicken drumstick. “Hi,” he said, because he’d had a childhood full of tea parties with high portrait society– the French nobility and the tired housewife from the third floor and an old witch with her sleeve on fire but very particular table manners. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”
By the end of the meal, they were flicking peas across the table with their spoons, like catapult projectiles. Harry had been unwelcome in so few places in his life, after he’d left 4 Privet Drive, that he simply didn’t expect it. He asked Warrington, a Slytherin with shoulders like a bulldog’s, to help him with the juice, which was too unwieldy for his kid-sized wrists. Harry sat there blinking, smiling, until Warrington took the jug and poured him a brimming glass.
Sent to my website email this morning - Subject: Enough Message: Enough of the gay stuff on Bright Sessions. Please we are begging you. Sent on: June 2, 2017.
So here we are, two days into PRIDE month. How’s everybody doing?
I’m going to start off by leaning into the mic and saying with full-throat clarity: “Fuck you…you fucking fuck”.
I am a gay man…and before that, I was a gay kid…a scared and angry kid who had so much internal homophobia brewing inside of him that he thought he might explode because nothing in the world was convincing him, or trying to convince him for that matter, that it was normal and okay to be who he really was. And I can tell you, when I was that scared kid, shows like The Bright Session were almost non-existent; and what a shame.
I would have cried from happiness if The Bright Sessions existed when I was a boy. Shows like The Fosters, Glee, Eye Witness, Riverdale, Shadowhunters…shows where I could see myself on the screen in a way all of my heterosexual friends could without question since birth.
Today I turn on the radio…and 99.999% of the music is, narratively, written/produced with a straight audience in mind…and in some cases/genres it’s used to target and ridicule me and my sexuality.
I live in a world where gay men are being thrown off of rooftops and “exorcized” in Chechnya because they are seen as aberrations; less than…underserving of love and existence. I live in a world where in my own country, a venomous discriminatory fear-based movement validated by the election of their figurehead sent a resounding message that my rights are actually up for debate.
In a world where there is so little positive reflected back at me…so little out there saying that my truth and the stories that express my life and experiences on this earth are valid…in a world where I feel like every day and every breath is a stand to qualify my existence…In that world, I get a message that tells me “enough of the gay stuff”.
So…to the person who sent this message, I feel sorry for you; I genuinely do…I truly, genuinely and absolutely do. How terrible your life must be, and how delicate your self-image must be to reach out and say something like that. At first look, the message is mean and evil…but then the shaky-ground of masculine fragility reveals itself, as it always does, and I pity you.
This is Pride Month…It’s meant to celebrate the LGBT+ community and our allies by opening up to share the beauty and diversity of our lives with everyone. I am proud of who I am…and it took a damn long time to get here.
I can’t really speak for Lauren, our creator/show-runner, or the rest of the cast, but…we have a gay character, a bi character, a lesbian character and a “no labels at this time” character confirmed as canon in The Bright Sessions…and I’m here to tell you we will never “enough with the gay stuff”. We are here to celebrate the people and stories that matter to us…Caleb, Adam, Mark and Rose are my friends; these are the people I have in my life and I think you’d be lucky to know. So yeah, no…not “enough of the gay stuff”.
midnightfireburnsbrighter said: I wanted to thank you for LoS and especially Cristina-it’s not often that faith is shown separate from religion and as a strength & for the introduction of Zara & co. and the culmination of their hatred; it is a very honest representation of fear and humanity, fictional or (sadly) not. Do you plan to expand on Annabel as a person, as you did with Kieran, with her current circumstance? Also, does the
-2 years before the wall? Wait is this like a baby bat Rhys POV?
-oh God this field isn’t a nice place. Kinda like it tho.
- omfg 6 High Fae… 6, to defeat one Illyrian… damn.
- Rhys is so protective if his brothers it’s killing me.
-AGH PART ONE HERE I FUCKING COME.
-Yes Feyre, burn this shit.
-Already thinking about that wingspan Feyre? Can’t blame ya.
- Ugh Tamlin no can you not enter this moment just yet. Ugh Lucian I’m fucking watching you.
-Oh for Fuck sake I gotta read about Ianthe soon to?
-ugh I just want some smut and it’s only page nine.
-Feyre you can roll your eyes. God knows I am.
- Oh hey Ianthe, go Fuck yourself Ianthe.
-You definitely revived something from Rhys hands Feyre, but it was far more pleasurable than torture.
-Lucian I won’t ship you and Elaine. But please, for the love of God, kill Ianthe.
-Oh hell fucking ni, Jurian, go fucking Fuck yourself and stay the Fuck away.
-Oh snap, Nesta and Elaine already so powerful they can drain the cauldron.
-Oh snap, Feyre laying down these facts. Also that’s how I spell Miryaim’s name.
-Feyre you savage.
-Jurian, talk about Elaine like that again and I will kill you.
-Oh Fuck off Ianthe, I’ve read enough of you.
-Okay Lucian, my heart is softening towards you.
-God I missed you Alis.
-Damn summer solstice is giving me goosebumps.
-Rhys you are giving me life.
-Uh Oh, Tamlin’s getting jealous of friendship.
-YOU FUCKING BURNED THEIR WINGS.
-Ahhh Feyre you also cringing about Elaine being fucked by a fire blooded male?? Let me introduce to Azriel. He’s far better in my opinion.
-All these painting titles… we’re they like, working title for Acowar.
-Rhysand you get that tongue to work.
-Also Tam you prick.
-TAMLIN YOU MOTHERFUCKING PRICK HOW WOULD YOU LIKE A WHIPPING.
-God Alis, my bae.
-Feyre slit her throat.
-Yes Feyre Fuck this bitch up.
-Oh these twins. Can you fucking not.
- Go Lucian Go.
-Bring on Part Two.
-“He can get in line,” Feyre getting a list of people who wanna kill her to rivals Aelins.
-Oh for Fuck sake, everything was going so well, until Lucian’s brothers showed up.
-OMG CASSIAN YOU’RE BACK.
-AZRIEL MY CUPCAKE.
-“There’s no such thing as a High Lady,” bitch excuse me.
-Cassian you melt my stone cold heart.
-Mor my darling.
-OMG IT’S HAPPENING, RHYS IS COMING.
-Amren, boo. Hru?
-Lucian being called a girl, I’m dying
-“Go find somewhere else to be,” I know what that means.
-The smut was worth it.
-Oh I missed the banter of my baby bats.
-And Rhys’ swearing begins.
-Cassian sunning his wings. I wonder if a certain Nesta sees.
-Cassian trying to be chill around Nesta is my new aesthetic.
-Nesta reads romance. Hell Yes.
-“You come between a male and his mate, Nesta Archeron, and you’re going to learn about the consequences the hard way.” Trying to foreshadow something there Cassian? I Ship.
-No is mentioning the sorrow and longing in Cassian eyes, Feyre, for the same reason no one mentioned it when Rhys looked at you all those months ago.
-Reading about Elaine is painful.
-I’m relating to Elaine and all those open curtains too much… shit.
-Cassian you’re to precious.
-I missed the Amren/Cassian banter so much.
-Shit Mor is getting pissed.
-Feyre keeps calling Rhys mate and I’m feeling bad for the Australian readers.
-“Because I can’t stay away” well Fuck me if they ain’t mates.
-Nesta looking as Cassian like he’s the only one in the room.
-Damn right there was a reason Lucian wore a fox mask.
-Idk what to write but the nessian at pg.203. gahhhhhhh.
-“Surely Nesta wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle,” omfg Feyre, it’s hilarious of you to think that.
-Feyre were you not there for Acomaf. He was very clearly, cocky then.
-Library sex? I’m in.
-oh, so no library sex.
-To the Bone Carver we go. RIP.
-Oh so, the Carver, and the Wearer are- I’d be shocked only I read that spoiler.
-Oh so the Carver is a mirror type of perosn? What even is a mirror person? Is it his kink?
-Oh Nesta having death powers.
-Feyre constantly calling Rhys mate tho.
-Tbh all I wanna know is who or what the carver appeared to Cassian.
-Everyone in this book be complementing Rhys good taste.
-Ah Az and Elaine be starting. Az be carrying his ship.
-Poor Cassian. Nesta will come around, I promise, I read the spoiler.
-YES AZRIEL SHOW HER THE GARDEN. I’VE READ THIS SPOILER PAGE SO MUCH AND NOW IT’S MINE.
-You know, I wrote a fanfiction about Az and Elaine in a garden and her calling his scars pretty. They kissed in it.
-“Azriel isn’t the ravishing type,” Rhys you should read the fanfic I wrote about him. He loves to ravish.
-omg Cassian calming Nesta- ugh how many more pages until this kiss?
-Az, sunning your wings for Elaine? How scandalous.
-“Why not make them mates?” Feyre babe I’m asking the same question.
-FEYRE YOU SHIP ELRIEL TOO? Oh sweetie I love you more than Cassian rn.
-Rhysand, let Feyre play matchmaker.
-I was about to bash Kier for insulting Az, but Az got this shit.
-Oh not this fucking Eris bitch again.
-Rhys the Fuck you playing at?
-Okay, ngl I know Mor is gay but those Eris know? Ffs.
-Okay everyone is fighting and I’m more intrigued than I should be.
-Double d'aw Elriel.
-Pg.303 and back to sassy Az.
-Sassy Az KS giving me life.
-It was at page 306 that I realised I was in love with Az.
-Nephelle’s be giving me goosebumps.
-Yes bathtub scent with Rhys.
-Oh it’s actually a massage scene? I’m in.
-Feyre are you trying to start a war? Cassian flying with Nesta. Dammit who am I kidding I wanna see that.
-Yes Az, help Elaine in the garden. I am sailing this ship.
-Nesta watching Cassian lick his fingers and I’m like, now imagine that kissing elsewhere.
-Nes? I ship.
-Some shit happening in the library.
-ohhhh so we finally reached the part where people wonder if Elaine is a seer.
-Yes Feyre, put Elaine’s riddles together.
-Okay that scene was intense but Nessian at the end was calming.
-“Amren on the hunt,” a novel by sjm.
-Damn Az, took you awhile but bravo, she’s a seer. God it couldn’t be any easier to love you.
-Lucian I swear to God if you die, looking for this sixth queen, I will kill you.
-Also where is my Suriel.
-Shit Alis don’t die.
-oh FFS, look, “king” of Hybren, old buddy. If you’d kindly fuck off. Only it’s late, I don’t need these plot twists.
-Look, “King,” I’d pay good money to see you try and take Feyre.
-Rhys if you could destroy my upcoming exams the way you did those ships, I’d be grateful.
-pg.379, more smut, hell yes.
-pg.381, Nesta all concerned.
-The amount of sex feysand are having. That wingspan must be truly impress you Feyre darling.
-So Cassian is terrible at complements.
-Ah yes boys, bringing up that wingspan again.
-This Nessian tho.
-“she threatened to freeze my balls off,” Kallias, Viviane, welcome to my heart.
-I’m in love with Viviane.
-God sake, Tamlin Fuck off.
-Tamlin, let me tell you, Rhys and Feyre have fucked so much I’m sure he could recount every noise she is capable of making.
-Fucking shut up Tamlin.
-Eris if you’d kindly shut the Fuck up too, it’d be a pleasure.
-Pg.438, Nesta, damn, *blows kisses.*
-nvm of 439, Go Feyre. Slay.
-Helion…. wait… look I can’t go around loving all these people. It makes me look like I have a heart.
-You know I’d be surprised at Lucian being a whole, some air of dawn court, but I already read that spoiler.
-Okay mor is gay why is- you know what, never mind, I give up.
-Oh. Oh Fuck.
-lol, I’m so tired, whenever I hear the wall mentioned all I can think of is humpty dumpty.
-“Don’t even start,” Nesta, sweetie, we’ve been shipping this since the last book.
-Part three here I come.
-btw this is still the same day for me. I’ve read up to part three in a few hours. It’s two in the morning. Never underestimate a fangirl deprived of her smut.
-Jurian just has to show up, doesn’t he.
-idk who I am to believe anymore.
-I wanna say Fuck this shit I’m out. But I am so in.
-So am I meant to trust Jurian or not.
-Nessian will kill me quicker than these plot twists.
-Ayyy more shut, god I love you Sarah.
-Yes, the Suriel is coming into play bitches. I’d been surprised by what happens only I’ve seen this spoiler too.
-Okay first thing first, Ianthe please Fuck off Secondly rip Suriel 2K17.
-Cassian what happened. Nesta please. I know the ending and shit but tf happened.
-Feyre be joining up these dots about which way Mor floats.
-This, Varian, Amren thing, yeah I’d like another five books of it.
-Awww, Az, you’re to sweet and selfless.
-I’m so tired IDK how to feel anymore.
-Oh greatttt, Feyre got hit with an arrow. Any more plot twists.
-Wait Tamlin? Fuck, ugh.
-d'aw, Elaine kissed his cheek.
-it’s four in the morning. I have less than one hundred pages left.
-Fucking hell Elaine stab them bastard.
-Also Nessian hell yes.
-Also…wait what’s happening.
-Rhysand you fucking bastard it’s five in the morning don’t do this to me. I know you live god dammit don’t fucking do this.
-oh thank fuck that’s all settled.
-This book. These plot twists. These ships. It’s all so heart wrenching and shit.
-Wait is she flying over Velaris in her lingerie.
-Fuck it’s half five in the morning. I read this book in under 24 hours. I need to sleep.
-omfg I need to read this shit again. It was so good. The High Lords, the banter, the near death experiences. The romance. The sass. Sarah you queen.
-if the at least the novellas don’t have nessian or Elriel tho I may be tempted to cry.
And that, my friends, is a snippet of the roller coaster if thoughts and emotions I went through. I was too tired to cry during it but my heart was successfully ripped out a few times.