this is the only jane eyre for me

You think of Mr. Rochester, mad wives
in attics, Jane herself, as plain as flan.
You don’t remember Helen Burns, Jane’s friend

from school. Reader, I married her. I pressed
my eighth-grade self between those pages like
a flower, left for later hands. Helen.

“I like to have you near me,” she would cough,
romantically consumptive, after Jane
sneaked to her sick-bed. “Are you warm, darling?”

We’ll always find ourselves inside the book,
no matter what the book, no matter how
little we’re given. I was twelve; gay meant

nothing to me. I only knew I’d go
to Lowood Institution, rise at dawn,
bare knuckles to the switch, choke down the gruel,

pray to the bell, if this meant I could hold
another girl all night, if I could clasp—
this even if she died there while I slept,
this even if I died there in my sleep.

—  Jane Eyre Unbanned: (x)
4

The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter - in the eye.

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you… It means that you do not treat your body as a commodity with which to purchase superficial intimacy or economic security; for our bodies to be treated as objects, our minds are in mortal danger. It means insisting that those to whom you give your friendship and love are able to respect your mind. It means being able to say, with Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre: “I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all the extraneous delights should be withheld or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give. Responsibility to yourself means that you don’t fall for shallow and easy solutions – predigested books and ideas… Marrying early as an escape from real decisions, getting pregnant as an evasion of already existing problems. It means that you refuse to sell your talents and aspirations short… And this, in turn, means resisting the forces in society which say that women should be nice, play safe, have low professional expectations, drown in love and forget about work, live through others, and stay in the places assigned to us. It means that we insist on a life of meaningful work, insist that work be as meaningful as love and friendship in our lives. It means, therefore, the courage to be "different”… The difference between a life lived actively, and a life of passive drifting and dispersal of energies, is an immense difference. Once we begin to feel committed to our lives, responsible to ourselves, we can never again be satisfied with the old, passive way.
—  Adrienne Rich
Work Comes Home - Part 9

Summary: You work for the company that publishes Hamilton: The Revolution.

Words: 11K+ (I genuinely wasn’t planning on writing this much, it just happened.)

Author’s Note: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. But thank you for being so amazing and patient with me while I wrote this and dealt with all my life things that have been happening recently. 

SPECIAL THANKS to the people who helped me get through this and read through the rough drafts of my ramblings: @secretschuylersister, @ourforgottenboleros, @letsgiggletogether, @adothoe, and @iwrotemywayto-revolution. This wouldn’t be here without you. 

Disclaimer: Artistic liberties taken regarding the publishing world and timeline. I’ve put the warnings below and tagged them as well just in case. As always, let me know if there are any glaring mistakes. I always love feedback!

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Alcohol

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I had been in the Advanced/Gifted classes for each primary school I had been in (4), but when I changed schools again I got put in the “spares” class because of the timing. A primary school of over 500, and my classroom spanned 3 grades - ¾/5. I was in grade 5, and was probably 3+ years ahead in coursework compared to everybody else because of self-study I did with my older brother and his high school homework.

My teacher - a frazzled lady who really didn’t have the time to spend on individual students - just wanted to teach the class as a whole, cohesive unit. I, of course, was the outlier here.
I finished each piece of work long before everybody else, and asked for more challenging stuff.

She didn’t have any.

I took to bringing in books from my house. This mostly slipped by unnoticed, but I brought in Jane Eyre (a rather hefty tome if you’re going by a small 9-year old’s perspective) and looked particularly distressed when reading about the Red Room (haunted room that she was locked in as punishment). The teacher flipped out, confiscating my “adult literature”, stopped class, dragged me to the principal’s office, and called my parents out for being “negative influences on my education”.

She banned me from reading books after I’d finished my work, stopped calling on me for answers in class, and barely spoke to me for the remaining weeks I spent at that school. I was lucky enough to only spend a term there before moving again, but I never got my copy of Jane Eyre back.

Anne: episode titles

Anne’s episode titles have been quotes from Jane Eyre. Most of them from Chapters 22 and 23 when Jane returns to Thornfield and Mr. Rochester proposes. I wanted to look more closely at them and share!

1: Your Will Shall Decide Your Destiny

              “And your will shall decide your destiny,“ he said: "I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions.” Mr. Rochester to Jane – Chapter 23

 2: I Am No Bird, and No Net Ensnares Me

               “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” Jane to Mr. Rochester – Chapter 23

 3: But What is So Headstrong as Youth

               But what is so headstrong as youth? What so blind as inexperience? These affirmed that it was pleasure enough to have the privilege of again looking on Mr. Rochester, whether he looked on me or not; and they added — “Hasten! hasten! be with him while you may: but a few more days or weeks, at most, and you are parted from him forever!” And then I strangled a new-born agony — a deformed thing which I could not persuade myself to own and rear — and ran on. Jane – Chapter 22

 4: An Inward Treasure Born

               “I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.” Jane – Chapter 19

 5: Tightly Knotted to a Similar String

               “I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.” Mr. Rochester to Jane – Chapter 23

 6: Remorse Is The Poison of Life

               "Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre: remorse is the poison of life.“ "Repentance is said to be its cure, sir.” Mr. Rochester and Jane – Chapter 14

 7: Wherever You Are Is My Home

               "Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you; and wherever you are is my home, my only home.“ Jane to Mr. Rochester – Chapter 22

18 OF THE MOST POWERFUL QUOTES ON HEARTBREAK IN LITERATURE
  1. The Remains of the Day- Kazuo Ishiguro 

    “Indeed — why should I not admit it? — in that moment, my heart was breaking.”- Stevens

  2. Gone with the Wind- Margaret Mitchell 

    “If I said I was madly in love with you you’d know I was lying.”- Scarlett O'Hara

  3. A Tale of Two Cities- Charles Dickens 

    “Remember now and then that there is a man who would die to keep someone you love beside you.”- Sydney Carton

  4. The Great Gatsby- F. Scott Fitzgerald 

    “Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… . And then one fine morning

    — So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. ”- Nick Carraway

  5. Little Women- Louisa May Alcott 

    “I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn’t love me.”- Laurie Laurence

  6. Memoirs of a Geisha- Arthur Golden 

    “The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.”- Chiyo Sakamoto

  7. Twelfth Night- William Shakespeare 

    “If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.”- Duke Orsino

  8. Love in the Time of Cholera- Gabriel Garcia Marquez 

    “But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.”- Florentino Ariza

  9. The Wise Man’s Fear- Patrick Rothfuss 

    “I thought of all the others who had tried to tie her to the ground and failed. So I resisted showing her the songs and poems I had written, knowing that too much truth can ruin a thing. And if that meant she wasn’t entirely mine, what of it? I would be the one she could always return to without fear of recrimination or question. So I did not try to win her and contented myself with playing a beautiful game. But there was always a part of me that hoped for more, and so there was a part of me that was always a fool.”- Kvothe

  10. The Hunger Games- Suzanne Collins 

    “You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.”- Katniss Everdeen

  11. Wuthering Heights- Emily Bronte 

    “You loved me-then what right had you to leave me? What right-answer me-for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.“- Heathcliff

  12. Venetia- Georgette Heyer 

    “There is nothing so mortifying as to fall in love with someone who does not share one’s sentiments.”- Mrs Hendred

  13. Jane Eyre- Charlotte Bronte 

    "I was actually permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment: but rallying my wits, and recollecting my principles, I at once called my sensations to order; and it was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder–how I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr. Rochester’s movements a matter in which I had any cause to take vital interest.”- Jane Eyre

  14. Anna Karenina- Leo Tolstoy 

    “Love. The reason I dislike that word is that it means too much for me, far more than you can understand.“- Anna Karenina

  15. Like Water for Chocolate- Laura Esquivel 

    “When you’re told there’s no way you can marry the woman you love and your only hope of being near her is to marry her sister, wouldn’t you do the same?”- Pedro Muzquiz

  16. The Notebook- Nicholas Sparks                                                      "The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected.”
  17. The Time Traveler’s Wife- Audrey Niffenegger 

    “I won’t ever leave you, even though you’re always leaving me.”- Clare Abshire

  18. Atonement- Ian McEwan                                                                 “He knew these last lines by heart and mouthed them now in the darkness. My reason for life. Not living, but life. That was the touch. And she was his reason for life, and why he must survive.”

“Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you…it means that you do not treat your body as a commodity with which to purchase superficial intimacy or economic security; for our bodies to be treated as objects, our minds are in mortal danger. It means insisting that those to whom you give your friendship and love are able to respect your mind. It means being able to say, with Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre: “I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all the extraneous delights should be withheld or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.

Responsibility to yourself means that you don’t fall for shallow and easy solutions–predigested books and ideas…marrying early as an escape from real decisions, getting pregnant as an evasion of already existing problems. It means that you refuse to sell your talents and aspirations short…and this, in turn, means resisting the forces in society which say that women should be nice, play safe, have low professional expectations, drown in love and forget about work, live through others, and stay in the places assigned to us. It means that we insist on a life of meaningful work, insist that work be as meaningful as love and friendship in our lives. It means, therefore, the courage to be "different”…The difference between a life lived actively, and a life of passive drifting and dispersal of energies, is an immense difference. Once we begin to feel committed to our lives, responsible to ourselves, we can never again be satisfied with the old, passive way.” 


― Adrienne Rich

I want to be lost so I can find myself,
in pools of sunshine and not in frost,
so let me trace maps and dream,
about the sparkling ocean,
about forests with hidden secrets,
where I belong, where I thought I did.
I am on the ledge, somehow,
and I am an empty shell, again.
he claims I cannot love again,
so let me tear pages in half,
write my name a thousand times,
if I can still remember.
I have shredded motivation so,
let me burn down buildings,
let me scream,
help me lighten the blackness of my thinking,
tinge it yellow, orange instead of grey,
like flames.
you turn me to winter’s fatal black ice,
I am cold and unforgiving
I am chaos in the calm
I am your mad girl,
a thunder storm, a hurricane
I am not yours, nobody owns me.
I will tear everything down
and finally smile
you tell me I am lovely
and only show me hate,
but I cling to you, I’m mad, mad.
Now there is pressure in my temples
where sadness forms and dissipates
as a loaded gun, safety off
a lit fuse.
—  Bertha Antoinetta

uggy-cat  asked:

Toby Stephens and Michael Fassbender look a lot alike to me, I'm not the only one that thinks this right?

You’re joking, right? They don’t look anything alike! I mean– HOLY BERTHA MASON

Well, I’m just going to go sit in a corner and contemplate my existence.

6

Jane Eyre Month — Favorite Quotes [3/3]

Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.

“She had better not wait till then, Jane,” said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; “if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.”

anonymous asked:

You always reblog book quotes so I hope you don't mind me asking what is your favotite book and why?

Damn this is a hard question. How can I pick just one? D: Mmmmmh I think the only way I can give you an answer is a short list in no particular order:

  • The Princess Bride by William Goldman. I love its narrative structure and how exaggerated and heartwarming it is. The movie doesn’t even come close to the book.
  • Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I know I’m biased, but I genuinely consider this book one of the best novels ever written. The main characters are fantastic, Jane is sooo badass and Edward is adorkable. Some passages from this book are so beautiful I just want to read them again and again and cry in a corner.
  • The Nutcracker and the Mouse King by E.T.A Hoffmann. I always had a deep love for this fairy tale since I was a kid. I’ve read many translations and I could write a damn essay about its symbolism (and I am, in fact, currently reading one and it’s SO GOOD and I agree with every single word) and how it relates to Hoffmann’s vision of the world. 
  • The Man who Fell to the Earth by Walter Tevis. During my childhood, my parents exposed me to a ton of stuff that involved David Bowie in some shape or form. I’ve never turned into a fan of his work but I am so glad I discovered this gem of a book. It’s so heart-wrenching and thought-provoking! I love it.
  • The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. The book that made me interested in paganism and then turned me into an atheist with a deep -but strictly anthropologic- interest in the occult and ancient religions. Awesome female characters.
  • The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter. This book is everything. Angela Carter is my damn hero and I love everything that she wrote but this little book in particular. It’s scary, sexy, provocative and you should read it.
  • Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. A story about two kids but the really interesting character is the father of one of them. I love how this book takes its time to explore the father-son relationship, a rare sight in fantasy/adventure books aimed at a younger audience. This book is both poetic and mature and the reason why young-adults authors should stop killing off parents from their narratives.
  • The Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov. A buddy cop adventure starring a detective and a human-like robot. Their dynamic is fantastic, the mystery intriguing and well-thought-out. The sequels are even better.
  • A Midsummer’s Night Dream by William Shakespeare. My fave play by the Bard. I’ve seen it multiple times on stage after watching the 1999 movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Ruper Everett. I really like how all the plots entwine in the end and how cheeky and sassy the comedy is.
Burned(Marliza AU)

Word count: 6456(I’m so sorry)

Note: so, this took too long to write, is too long, but I’m very excited about it. It’s a Paper Towns AU, and if you’ve read Paper Towns then you know this is going to be interesting.

Thanks so much to @secretschuylersister for reading through everything and screaming support. And thanks for @sunriseovertheroomwhereithappens for helping me edit some

Warning: alcohol mentions, swearing, mentions of sex, cheating, and being a terrible sister

Tags: @maybe-mikala @queerenbian @linmanuclmiranda @ham4fan-fiction


Eliza had never been entirely grounded to one spot. She had a move-around-never-sit-still-always-doing-something personality.

Her outlandish adventures and increasingly epic escapades had attracted people to her like moths to a bug-zapper: beautiful but deep down dangerous, and she burned the people that got too close.

All but one, and that one burned her.


“Maria, I’m just saying, if you choose to go to college straight out of highschool then your father and I can try to pay-”

“But nothing is guaranteed,” I argued. It was this way all the time– go the way we want and we can support you until we can’t, and we can’t always came too soon. “That’s why I’m saying I need to wait and save enough money to pay for what you can’t. If I take out student loans, I’ll drown in them.”

“This might not be the best choice for you, Maria.”

“That’s the only route that’s guaranteed,” I pointed out, before looking through the passenger seat window and realizing we had pulled up outside the brick entrance to school, the glass doors gleaming. “Would you look at that, we’re here,” I said, desperate to get out of the judgemental atmosphere of my mother’s van. “Gotta go.” I kissed her on the cheek, before pushing the door open and hopping out. My mother didn’t even make an attempt at rolling down the tinted window and shouting something about having a good day and that she loved me. Instead, she put the car in drive, and disappeared into the line of cars waiting for an escape out of the endless parking lot.

“Wouldya look at that,” a familiar voice shouted. “Maria Lewis in da house!” I turned around, coming face-to-face with Sarah, one half of the only two friends I had retained thus far.

“I’ve only missed one day this year, why do you sound so surprised?”

“Ah yes, that one glorious day you missed, because of a wicked hangover.”

“Sarah,” I cautioned. She knew better than to be shouting my illegal affairs at the top of her lungs. Albeit, my list of illegal affairs was a short one.

“Remind me,” she continued, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes. “Wouldn’t that be the same night that you almost hooked up with-”

“Zip it!” I hissed, before grabbing Sarah’s arm and yanking her into the building. I tugged her into the first bathroom I could find, without releasing her arm. “What is wrong with you?”

“Shall I organize that alphabetically or in greatest to least in terms of affecting my daily life?” She asked, a sarcastic smile hooking up the corners of her mouth.

“I’m serious, Sarah. There are things you shout in front of a school, and there are things you don’t.”

“I’m going to need some examples.”

“Things you do shout,” I began, counting on my fingers. “‘Did you do the math homework’ ‘I need coffee’ ‘I regret not calling in fake sick.’”

“And things you don’t?” She mused.

“Stuff about my sexlife!” I snapped, and the message finally seemed to cross her mind. After a moment of silence, “understood,” was all she muttered.

“Thank you,” I drawled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I have to get to calculus.”

“So you’re going to leave me stranded in this bathroom?” She asked, the usual joking manner coming back into her full force.

“There’s an exit, I’m sure you can figure the way out.”

“Obviously,” she scoffed, and I stopped long enough to take in her look. “But are you forgetting that Quinn has your calculus notebook?”

I groaned. Sarah was right, Quinn– the other of my only two friends– did have my calculus notebook in her possession. “You could have lead with that!” I snapped.

“You know I don’t operate that way.”

“Where’s Quinn?” I asked, blowing a breath through my teeth. “I need to get my notebook, then I need to kill her.”

“No murders,” Sarah bargained, and I shot her a glance that clearly said to be quiet unless you want to end up on my hitlist. “It’s before first period, so she’s in band.”

“Lead the way, band nerd supreme.”


After successfully getting my notebook back from the ever brilliant, yet slightly naïve Quinn, I rushed back to calculus, knowing that if there was even a strand of my curly hair not in the room when the bell rang, I was toast. As nice as Mr Jacobsen is, he was 1) extremely strict with the bell and 2) determined to ruin my standing of being the only student that had never been late to his class.

I passed by Eliza, forcing myself to keep walking instead of trying to dig up the courage to talk to her.


I stared at eight different clocks for eight total hours, waiting for the day to go by. While I cornered my thoughts of Eliza into one part of my mind, forcing the others to focus on the writing on the board and occasionally the clock above the door.

None of what my English teacher, Mrs Grissom, was talking about made sense, and I found my mind become less focused on the board and more focused on the clock.

Finally, it struck 3:20 in the afternoon and we were free to leave. I gathered my things, and made a dash for the door. I knew better than to assume that Mrs Grissom wouldn’t notice my lack of interest in her lesson on some century and a half old book, and I wanted to get out of there before I heard-

“Ms Lewis, could I have a word with you?” My shoulders slumped, and I bit my lip before turning around and plastering a fake smile on my face mid-turn.

“Yes?”

“Could you tell me anything that I was talking about during the lesson?” She asked, “anything at all?” I made a quick glance to the blackboard, and noticed it mercifully had some writing on it. I made out the words Jane Eyre, which were sloppily written and crookedly underlined.

I sighed, a weight coming off of my shoulders. I may not have known what the lecture was about, but I could give a summary of the book. “Jane Eyre was written in 1847 by Charlotte Brontë. It follows the life of Jane Eyre, a young orphaned girl. She survives an abusive childhood and goes on to become a teacher and then a governess for the ward of a man named Mr. Rochester. They fall in love, but strange things-”

“You clearly weren’t paying attention,” Mrs Grissom interrupted, clicking her tongue. “Look at the board- completely this time, not out of the corner of your eye.” She gave me a knowing look, and I bit my lip. I turned to the board, noticing the title of the lesson written far above the title of the book.

“Feminism: comparison between Jane Eyre and today…” I muttered, groaning quietly. I turned back to Mrs Grissom. “Oops?”

“‘Oops’ indeed.” I sat through her five-minute lecture on paying attention and getting enough sleep in order to pay attention.

Finally, she let me go, and I rushed to my locker, throwing my books in my bag before grabbing it and hoisting it onto my shoulder. I knew Sarah and Quinn would be gone by now, but what I didn’t expect was to see Eliza rush out of the passenger side of her older sister’s car.

She looked at me for a millisecond, and I saw enough to know that someone had gravely messed up; her face was red and tear streaked, and she wiped at one of her cheeks before closing the car door with a slam, rushing away.

I looked back at the car, and saw someone– presumably her older sister, but Angelica couldn’t have made her that upset– slam their hands on the dashboard before the door opened. Indeed, Angelica did rush out, barely even making sure the door was closed before running after her sister.

“Eliza, wait!” Angelica shouted, but Eliza had already disappeared. “Damnit!” I heard Angelica shout, before deciding to make myself scarce. I ducked back into the school, calling my mom and requesting that she come pick me up.

By the time my mom made it, the two elder Schuyler sisters had disappeared, as had Angelica’s car.

“Did you have a good day, sweetie?” My mom asked, the pretentious mood she had been in this morning had been dropped entirely.

“It was fine,” I answered automatically, knowing better than to tell her about Eliza and Angelica. She would have called their father immediately after getting home, and I didn’t fancy being in the center of that.

“That’s good,” she said, before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the school parking lot.


Upon getting back to my house, I dodged my mother’s questions of why I had been late, and took my bag up to my room to actually read Jane Eyre, and I looked out of my window. Angelica’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and Eliza’s curtains were pulled closed.

I sighed, and contemplated ignoring Jane Eyre and seeing if she was online. My will to find out if she was okay over took my responsible side, and I set down Jane Eyre (which was only open to page eleven) and took a seat in my computer chair. I opened my laptop, logging onto a chat room used in majority by the population of Rodgers High School, and nearly no one else.

Eliza wasn’t on, but Quinn was. I watched as an italicized notification told me that Quinn requested to send me a message. I clicked the notification, and read the short greeting.

Quinn2719: heard you got chewed out by Grimace- I mean Grissom

Mammamiaitsmaria: let me live.

Quinn2719: ‘fraid not, old friend. You best be ignoring me and reading Jane Eyre right now, unless you want another lecture from the beast herself

Mammamiaitsmaria: okay, mom

I logged out, closing my laptop, resolving to sit down and read like I should be. I made it to chapter six before I was called downstairs by my mom to eat dinner.

I ate, barely uttering a word while my parents discussed a spike in gas prices and a lack of well-educated people in politics. I finished, rinsing my plate in the sink, and rushing back upstairs before either of them could ask my opinion on the most recent Facebook post made by some government official in Arkansas.

I read to chapter nine of Jane Eyre before marking my spot with a loose piece of paper, and taking a quick shower. I logged back onto the chat room after my shower, messaged Quinn (mostly complaining about Mrs Grissom) and had just laid down when I heard a noise at my window.

I opened my eyes, but didn’t sit up. My first thought was a tree branch, then I immediately remembered that there was not a tree within window scratching distance. I heard the window open, and felt a rush of cool air flood into my room, followed by a soft sound that said someone had done a somersault into my room, via my bedroom window.

Finally, I grabbed the softball bat leaning by my bed, and in one fluid motion sat up, and turned around, swinging the bat out in front of me. A female-figured person stood inches away from the end of my bat, a hoodie pulled up over their face and skinny jeans covering their legs. They had ratty converse, which were sloppily tied and needed to be replaced.

“Jesus Christ!” A distinctly familiar voice shouted. “Are you crazy?” I lowered the bat, at the same time the figure lowered their hood. Immediately, I recognized Eliza, and I moved to click on my bedside light.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want to wake up your parents.”

“You just screamed at the top of your lungs, and they haven’t come rushing to what they suppose would be my aid. I think we’re in the clear.” I clicked on the light, and looked Eliza in the face. “Why did you somersault into my window?” I asked, pushing my blanket off my legs and pulling them to my chest.

“Because I need to borrow you and I need to borrow your car,” she said, clicking her tongue, and shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie

“You seem to be uneducated in how my life works, because I don’t have a car.”

“Then your parents car,” she said. “They do have a car, right?”

“I’d have to steal the keys,” I announced, raising my eyebrows. “And that is a thing I’m not going to do.”

“Where are the keys, then?” She asked, raising her eyebrows in a bad imitation of me.

“On the kitchen counter,” I answered, about to ask why when she disappeared from my bedroom.

“Oh, hell no.” I jumped off of my bed, turning out of the hallway and rushing down the stairs after Eliza. I pushed open the door to the kitchen to see her sitting at one of the stools on the island, her feet propped up on the counter, spinning the keys around her index finger by the keyring.

“I am not stealing my moms car,” I said, pushing my semi-dried hair off my shoulders.

“I’ll be your accomplice,” she offered, still spinning the keys around her finger. “Because either way, I’m doing what I need to do.”

“And just what do you so badly need to do?”

“There are a few things, actually, and at least half of them involve an accomplice.” She finally stopped spinning the keys, catching them in her hand, and put her feet back to the ground, bouncing her legs.

“Why don’t you get Peggy or Angelica to do it?” I asked, immediately regretting it when I noticed her setting her jaw.

“Because my sisters are part of the problem.”

“Alexander, then.”

“He’s the biggest problem,” Eliza whispered. “Please.” I looked her in the eye, and knew without knowing what my answer would be.

“Alright. Let me get dressed.”


I threw on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt emblazoned with a logo to a band I didn’t even like anymore, and rushed downstairs.

“You ready, curly sue?” Eliza asked after I emerged into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but motioned for her to follow me.

We made it into the foyer, and I had just grabbed a loose jacket from one of the pegs by the door.

“Maria?” I heard my mother’s voice whisper in a questioning tone. “And is that Elizabeth Schuyler?” I looked at her in the corner of my eye. Her lips were pulled up in a clever smirk, her eyes glowing mischievously.

“Susanna, how are you?” Eliza exclaimed, turning on her heel, her hair brushing my shoulder. “It’s been so long, long enough for you to not know that I go by Eliza, mostly.”

“I’m good, but I would like to know what exactly my daughter and my neighbors daughter are doing at 10:33 at night.”

“Tacos!” Eliza exclaimed, looking at me and quirking up an eyebrow. “Isn’t that right, Maria?”

“Yep, tacos,” I said, hoping that I sounded convincing enough.

“You’re going to get tacos at ten o'clock at night?”

“That’s what other people do. Haven’t you been saying you want me to do some more normal activities?” I asked, ignoring the urge to put air quotes around the word normal.

“Be back by curfew,” she granted. She stifled a yawn, and walked back in the direction of her bedroom. I turned back to Eliza, and the glint in her eyes said we most certainly were not going to be back by curfew.

“Good thing I decided against any camouflage face paint, because that would have been harder to explain,” Eliza muttered, before grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the front door. She tossed me the keys to the car, and ran to it. She jumped onto the hood, sliding across it perfectly before landing on her feet on the other side.

“C’mon, slowpoke.” She pulled open the passenger seat door, dropping into it. I elected the much safer option, and walked to the car, sitting down in the driver’s seat after pulling the door open. Eliza had her feet kicked up on the dash, and she was humming quietly to herself.

“I cannot believe you talked me into stealing my parents car.”

“I cannot believe you told me where the keys were,” she countered. “Not that I wouldn't’ve found them on my own.” Ignoring her, I put the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

“So,” I began, tapping my fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel. “What exactly do you have planned for tonight?”

“Firstly, that would require a few months worth of backstory, which I am going to sum up as easily as possible.”

“Shoot.”

“My boyfriend, whom I have been with for many months now, has been fucking my older sister,” she said these seventeen words as if they were the most normal things, the most painfully obvious, in-your-face things. And what do you say to the girl who just said these seventeen words, that had admitted that the one person closest to her had done this?

You say sorry.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. Not like you knew, I sure didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “But Peggy did, and she never told me. Angelica didn’t tell me for months, and Alexander-” she broke off. “And Alexander did all of it. He slept with her, and she…” Eliza stopped, taking in another deep breath. “Apparently she initiated it.”

Sweet jesus, I thought, who the hell does that to their own sister? Then I was immediately hit with the next thought like a stray gust of wind: that was almost you.

Eliza’s voice snapped me from the sudden thought that has consumed me momentarily. “And you know what the most terrible thing is?” Eliza asked, and apparently she was not waiting for a response because immediately following those words came these: “if she would have told me before I even dated him, if she would have told me that she loved him. I would have stayed away. He’d be hers, and my heart would have broke, but at least it wouldn’t have been like this.”

“Is that why you were crying earlier?” I asked before I could stop myself. “After school, in the parking lot.”

“I-” she began, then stopped. “Yeah. I walked home after that. Angelica is at her apartment, I didn’t want to be locked in a car with her for fifteen minutes.” She bit her lip. “I could barely even look at her,” her voice was a whisper, featherlight and quiet.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, you need to go to that huge Walmart impersonator store on 3rd.”

“Why are we going to a box store at 11:13 at night?”

“Because before problems can be solved, the solutions need to be bought with paper that has a value.” We pulled into the parking lot of the 24 hour store, and she passed me a piece of notebook paper that had been ripped from its spiral binding.

“And, I think a Benjamin Franklin will be enough to cover that,” she said, tossing a wadded up hundred dollar bill in my lap. “Benny is a friend of mine, use him wisely.”

I unfolded the notebook paper, scanning the page. Immediately, I noticed that Eliza didn’t capitalize any letters in any of the words.

matchesflourglitterballoons(the kind that can easily be filled with flour and glitter)rubber bandsnairlight blue spray paintitching powder

“What’re you waiting for, lesgo!” She said, clapping her hands, and jumping out of my moms car. I followed her, pocketing the list and the money.

“Hey there,” the cashier said, pulling what he assumed to be an attractive and sultry glance. “How’re you gorgeous ladies doing tonight.”

“We’re doing wonderful,” Eliza answered, before I could tell him off.

“You know, if one of you would like to spend some time with me-”

“No thanks,” Eliza said, cutting him off and wrapping an arm around my waist. “She’s the gay Maria to my gay Eliza.” The cashier didn’t seem to believe her words, and opened his mouth to say something else. She looked at me for just a second, a glance that was enough to leave my cheeks burning. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my cheek; if my cheeks weren’t burning before, they were now. Finally, the cashier whitened, and shut his mouth. He turned around, and pretended to sort through the cigarette boxes behind the counter.

“Alright, gay Maria, we have shopping to do.” Not releasing the grip on my waist, she turned me around to face the aisles.

“So,” I said, still very aware of her arm around my waist. “What exactly are we using the itching powder for?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” was her answer. She let go of my waist after lightly squeezing my hip, and disappeared down an aisle.

“‘Liza…” I didn’t want to be left alone with creepy cashier guy, so I followed her.

“Do you know if this place has a pharmacy aisle?” Eliza asked, reappearing with a packet of balloons in her hand. “Because I forgot to add a necessary item to that list.”

“Yeah, I think. It’s this way.” We walked down the aisles, Eliza occasionally stopping to grab something we needed.

“Here we are.” She walked down the pharmacy aisle, before grabbing something and adding it to the growing pile of stuff in her arms.

“What was that, Eliza?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunching up.

“Condoms,” she answered plainly. “They’re for Peggy, part of the revenge plot.”

“And what’re you going to do with the condoms, once you give them to Peggy?”

“Oh, you’ve misunderstood,” she said, turning to face me. She began to walk backwards, putting all of her weight on the balls of her feet. “These are to be hidden in Peggy’s room without her knowledge, and then I’m going to leave an anonymous tip to our dad.” She turned around, walking normally again.

“You evil genius,” I muttered under my breath, and followed her. She grabbed a basket from a stack at the end of an aisle contains nothing but breakfast cereals, and held it out towards me. I took it, and she dumped everything– the balloons, condoms, flour, rubber bands, and the matches– into the basket.

“So, how do all of these things come into play?”

“They come into play in the sense that we use all of them in the Elizabeth Schuyler revenge plot,” she answered, turning into the craft aisle and tossing a plastic bottle of silver glitter in my direction. I caught it, setting it down in the basket just as she tossed a second bottle of gold glitter.

“The one thing Peggy hates more than a mess, is glitter being a part of that mess,” she announced, walking out of the aisle and looking up at the plastic signs with the contents of each area listed on them. She stopped at one that said paint, and walked in the direction of the arrow next to it.

She finally stopped in front of a wall of spray paints in various colours. We walked through them, until she grabbed one, seemingly satisfied. “That’s the closest match to my prom dress,” she explained, without me having to ask.

We got the rest of the items from her list, and she awkwardly stared down the cashier as he was scanning our items. He stared suspiciously at the condoms, no doubt wondering why two girls that had described themselves as gay would be buying condoms, but he closed his mouth and said nothing.

“It is,” Eliza stopped, looking at the watch on her left wrist before announcing, “11:42. We can do this.” We jumped into the car, setting the three bags in the back.

“Where to now?” I asked, looking at Eliza.

“Now, we go to Angelica’s apartment,” she said. “Baaaasically, this is going to be the best night of your life.”


“Oh, I was not expecting that,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Alexander’s car. Outside of Angelica’s building.”

“What does that- ohh.“

“Not a good day to be Alexander,” Eliza muttered. “Park behind the building, we can walk.” She reached into the back, grabbing the itching powder and the spray paint.

“I will do the dirty work, and you will keep watch. I’ll call Angelica before we enter her apartment, Alexander will run off, believe me.” Eliza pushed open the door to the car, motioning for me to follow. She walked to Alexander’s car, opening the door. “Idiot doesn’t even know that his car doors won’t lock if the keys are still inside of it.” She grabbed the keys, and slammed the door shut, locking it. She pocketed the keys, and started towards Angelica’s building.

“Wait, won’t Angelica still be in her room?” I asked, catching up with Eliza.

“Nope,” she answered, opening the door to Angelica’s apartment building. “Angelica is the only person I know that takes a shower after sex, no matter if the guy runs off or not.” She walked up the stairs, stopping at the end of Angelica’s hall.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and dialed Angelica’s number. It rang for a bit, before Angelica answered. “Hi, ‘Liza.”

“Hello,” Eliza said, false cheer in her voice. “How’s Alexander?”

Angelica was silent a bit, before saying, “I… don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a while.” She was clearly lying, and Eliza rolled her eyes. As if on cue, Alexander rushed out of Angelica’s apartment, in only underwear, his clothes balled up in his hands. He caught sight of Eliza, and she came forward.

“Gotta go, Angelica.” She hung up on her sister, and grabbed Alexander’s clothes from his hands. She looked to her side, noticing the trash chute. She dumped the clothes into it, shutting it with a metallic clang.

Alexanders eyes widened, and he pointed between Eliza and the trash chute. “Did you just throw my fucking clothes in there?!”

“Absolutely, and you best believe this was a dream,” Eliza said, and he walked away, flipping her the bird. Once he was out of sight, I approached Eliza.

“I think I even believe that was a dream,” I said, and Eliza half-smiled before walking into Angelica’s apartment. The shower was running, and Eliza put a finger to her lips, and raised her eyebrows.

“You keep watch, I’ll go and fix problem un.” She walked into Angelica’s room, and I stood outside the door, watching as she sprinkled the itching powder into Angelica’s clothes. Finally, she took the spray paint out of her pocket, shaking it. The ball inside of the can clicked against the metal three times, before she uncapped it. In one precise, fluid motion, she spray painted a light blue lowercase e onto the wall above Angelica’s dresser.

She recapped the spray paint, and came out of the room, closing the door. “Let’s go, before-”

“Eliza?” Eliza’s eyes widened fractionally, and she turned towards her sister. Angelica was wearing a tank top and wonder woman underwear, her wet curls pulled back behind her head.

Their eyes met, and in that moment I saw years worth of a sisterhood stretch out– I could see Angelica and Eliza, dandelions woven into their hair, despite their obligatory status as weeds. I could see Angelica bandaging Eliza’s knee after she had scraped it on their driveway. I could hear Eliza’s shouts after Angelica had fallen out of a tree they had been climbing, and I could see her running for their dad after jumping out of the tree when Angelica hadn’t gotten back up. I could see them leaving their house together for prom– and as I watched them now, Angelica’s mouth formed an inaudible word and I couldn’t read lips.

Eliza tore her gaze away from Angelica before grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the apartment.

Angelica didn’t even try to come after us.


“Next,” she said, after slamming the door to the passenger side of the car shut. “We go to Alexander’s. It’s an apartment, down in Washington heights.”

“I know where he lives,” I said, and Eliza furrowed her brow.

“How?”

“I went to a party there, once. Never went back.”

“Oh,” she said, and was silent for a moment. “Was this party in November?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s the first time Angelica slept with him,” Eliza said, kicking her feet up on the dashboard and tossing the spray paint end-over-end, catching it every time. I didn’t reply. Instead, I thought.

I thought about the party, about Alexander kissing me, and about the smell of alcohol still on our breaths. And I remember that I remembered Eliza, and I had shoved him away. Thinking I cannot do this to Eliza, I can’t and I ran, escaping out a window because the house was too crowded, and shimming down a tree. I had enough sense to call Sarah, who picked me up and drove me home.

“Maria!” I snapped myself out of my thoughts, and looked to Eliza. “You drove past his building. You sure you know where you’re going?” She asked, a joking tone lining her voice.

“Yeah,” I answered, biting my lip and circling back around to park in front of Alexander’s building. His car wasn’t there, and there was no way he’d made his way back yet. Eliza grabbed the bag contains the nair, and jumped out from the car. I followed after her, and she made her way into the building.

We walked up two flights of stairs, before stopping at Alexander’s door. She pulled a lock pick from her pocket, and in a matter of minutes she had the door opened. “Let’s go.” She walked in, closing the door behind us.

“We need to work fast, in case Alexander gets back.” She tossed me the spray paint. “Get an e on the wall, above the kitchen counter. Make sure it’s lowercase.” I nodded, and she disappeared into one of the room in the hallway.

I walked into the kitchen, and shook the paint quickly. I uncapped it, and leaned over the counter. I sprayed a lowercase e onto the wall with the baby blue spray paint, and looked at it for a moment, before spraying a small, almost indistinguishable lowercase m next to it.

“Ooh, I like it.” Eliza had reappeared behind me. She had her hands on her hips, her head tilted, as if she was appraising the vandalism. “The m is a nice touch. I approve.”

“Let’s get out of here before-” I was cut off by the sound of the front door opening, and I grabbed Eliza’s wrist, pulling her to Alexander’s bedroom.

“Maria, what’re you- oh.” She realized what I was doing just as I threw the window open, and I stuck my upper body out of it, grabbing onto the tree branch and pulling the rest of my body out. Once I was in the tree, making my way down, Eliza followed.

I jumped the last few feet, landing clumsily and almost falling. Eliza, of course, jumped and landed in a way that would make gymnasts jealous.

“For part trois, we go back to my house.”


I pulled back into our neighborhood, parking a block away. Eliza grabbed the balloons, and held them still while I poured glitter and flour into them. She grabbed the condoms, opening the box and taking a few out. She held them up between her fingers. “Gotta make it look like she’s used a few.” And threw them into the backseat.

We walked a block to her house, and she opened the door quietly, leading me up the stairs and into Peggy’s bedroom. Peggy was asleep in her bed, her cropped curls wild, and her face relaxed in sleep.

Eliza grabbed a stepstool by the door, and climbed onto it, tying the balloons onto the fan. She had explained that once the fan was turned on, the balloons would burst, scattering flour and glitter everywhere in Peggy’s room. She dropped the box of condoms into the draw on Peggy’s nightstand, smirking.

Once she was finished, she spray painted an e onto the wall, letting me spray paint a small m next to it.

“I have one more thing to do here.” She walked out of the room, and I followed her into the hallway, but she had disappeared. In a matter of seconds, she had appeared from what had to be the door to her bedroom, a bright yellow folder tucked under her arm.

I followed her out of the house, and to the car. She didn’t say a word until we were back inside it. “Now we go to the old campgrounds.”

“Eliza, that’s almost an hour drive and it’s-” I stopped to look at the time. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“This is the last thing, after that you won’t have to do anything else for me.” She promised, and I looked at her suspiciously, put turned the car on anyway.


She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Her whole body was relaxed, a look on her face that said her emotional safety net had been dropped.

I pulled into the camp grounds, and nudged Eliza on the shoulder gently. She woke up, blinking hard in an attempt to clear the sleepiness from her mind.

“Did I fall asleep?” She asked quietly. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, before I could answer.

“It’s alright. But we’re here, what’s so important about the campgrounds?”

“Right, grab the matches,” she said, pressing the folder to her chest and getting out of the car. I reached into the back, grabbing the matches from the now empty grocery bag.

I followed Eliza, until she stopped. We had arrived at the fire pit, a small circle of rocks and dirt that never grew anything. Eliza had gathered some sticks, and had brought newspaper with her.

“We’re starting a fire, and then we’re going to burn these.” She opened the folder, showing me the papers inside. I realized that these were all love letters, addressed to Eliza, and written in a curly script. “They’re from Alexander. I’m burning them.”

“Woah, Eliza.” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to face me. “Are you sure you want to burn these?”

“I’ve bought the matches. I brought the folder here, and I made you drive for forty-five minutes so I could burn these in the place he kissed me for the first time when I was fourteen,” she said, her voice growing in pitch and becoming more and more intimidating. “I’m sure.”

That was all the confirmation I needed, and I arranged the newspaper and sticks, lighting a match. I lit the newspaper, and it started to burn, the fire eating away at the words until they were nothing but black char.

Eliza grabbed two papers from the folder, tossing them onto the flames. As those burned, she grabbed a couple more and those joined the first in the flames. Soon enough, she had emptied the folder, and I watched the flames as they lapped at the pages. She threw the folder on top of them, before taking a deep, rattling breath.

She began crying quietly, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her against me as she cried. We stood there for what felt like an infinite amount my time, the flames dancing in front of us, and my fingers combing through her hair in what I hoped was a calming fashion.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, wiping her cheeks off. “I’m sorry, I’m okay now.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I whispered. “And I believe you.”

“Thank you,” she pulled me into a hug, squeezing her arms around my waist. “I had fun.”

“So did I.” She pulled away from the hug, staring me in the face. I could see a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and on her cheekbones, and she leaned up, pressing another kiss to my cheek. This time, however, it wasn’t to get a creepy cashier off our backs.

“We need to get going, it’s 1:47.” Eliza said, and rushed off. The fire had burned out, with only a few scraps of paper left. The only legible one read Eliza’s name in a curling script. I followed Eliza, knowing now that she had precisely nothing left to lose.


“This was an amazing night, Eliza.” It was 2:57 in the morning, and I had never felt this awake. “Truly.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to go on a midnight escapade with,” Eliza said, handing me the spray paint. “Truly.”

She pulled me in for another hug, and whispered in my ear. “I. Am. Going. To. Miss. You.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow.” I couldn’t see her face, but if I could have, I would’ve known she had grimaced, biting her lip.

“That’s true,” she finally said, and pulled away.

“Goodnight, Eliza.”

“Goodbye, Maria.” She turned on her heel, jogging back to her house and climbed up the tree The would allow her to walk on the roof and into the window.

I waved at her one final time, before walking into my house and sneaking back into the room. I peeled off my jeans, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and falling into bed, hoping that I would wake up tomorrow and none of this would have been a dream.


School was normal, achingly so. I saw Eliza nowhere– she didn’t eat lunch with us, didn’t pass me in the hallway– it was like she disappeared entirely.

Once I arrived home, I knew immediately that something was wrong. A fancy silver car was parked in our driveway, a car that screamed official business.

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out, and she replied from the dining room. My mother was sitting at the table next to my father. Eliza’s dad sat across from them, his hands folded together on the table. A man I didn’t know stood behind Eliza’s dad, with a 5 o’clock shadow and wearing a tailored suit.

“What’s going on?” I asked, setting my bag down.

“It seems,” my mother began. “That Eliza has gone missing.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. The spray painting, the revenge, the burning of the letters, and the somersaulting into my room at 10:04 at night wearing a hoodie. The simple fact that Eliza had said Goodbye, Maria instead of Goodnight, Maria. suddenly even made sense, and I know one thing to be true.

Eliza wouldn’t be found until she wanted to be.

anonymous asked:

I have never watched (extensively) or understood the concept of Yugioh or the fact that the little funky haired shota boy can magically turn into a seme for some reason but because of you I now ship them and I don't even know they damn names.

/SOBS the fact that I converted you to this ship is seriously the highest compliment I could ever receive, thank you x100 for telling me this. /.\

And I don’t know if you were actually looking for an answer, anon, but I will gladly shout into the void about what is quickly becoming my otp.

The little funky haired shota is Yugi, as in Yugioh. He is the main character and a sweet cinnamon roll. He is smol and very important. He solves this cursed Egyptian artifact and awakens this ancient spirit sealed inside it.

So basically, the way Yugi turns seme is that he’s possessed. The spirit takes control of Yugi’s body (for very different reasons, depending on which season of the anime you’re watching). But the thing is, the plot of the show is basically the spirit trying to figure out who he is and where he came from. So for lack of a name (until the end of the series, when it’s a huge plot point), he’s called Yami Yugi (dark Yugi), or just Yami. So Yami and Yugi. Yugi’s friends sometimes call his “other Yugi” or “your other self”.

so onto their relationship

They’re just married. I just. I don’t even know what to say. They share a body, and Yugi goes from not even knowing about Yami’s existence to straight up not being able to live without him. They have this telepathic bond that exists beyond the Puzzle, and Yami is constantly projecting himself over Yugi’s shoulder to talk to him, and vice versa.

they have goddamn cute nicknames for each other. Yugi calls Yami “Other Me” and Yami calls him “Aibou”, or “partner”.

And in the special cases when they can interact physically, there is so much touching. It’s like they’re just beyond personal space. They’re comforting to each other.

and if this isn’t a freaking marriage proposal idk what is.

look at this shit, this is straight out of Jane Eyre. Literally they have do the trope where the lovers who are separated by distance can still freaking hear each other


But overall, what absolutely slays me about Puzzleshipping is how much they learn and grow from each other. My favorite OTP type is the characters who work well together, and spend so much time together that everyone just assumes they’re a couple and ships them, if only by convenience. But when you actually stop and look at their dynamic, they perfectly compliment each other, and the differences in their personalities just feed into a beautiful dynamic where they just need each other.

And that’s them. Before we really get to know Yami as a character, it seems like Yugioh is an allegory for Yugi growing up and becoming independent, using games and heroism as an outlet for him to be more confident (ie, for Yami to take over). And in a way, it is. But it’s so much more than that. On the surface, it looks like Yugi is fairly worthless. Yami’s the one who duels, who defeats the bad guys, who’s the hero. He’s fearless, he’s cool, he’s the king of games. But really, he’s not. He’s a flawed person who learns so much about the world and how to interact with people from Yugi. They help each other so much, and I can’t find the panel, but there’s one from the very end where Yami says “You have the heart of a Pharaoh.” It really was Yugi all along. He looked up to Yami’s strength and confidence so much, when all along he was just as important.

They just know each other so well and are just freaking soulmates. Their relationship is literally what drives the entire plot. It’s not about freaking card games, it’s about this ancient spirit finding peace through Yugi’s guidance.

Just….goddamn. Have some more pictures that I didn’t put into collages.

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