What Is It With This Show???? (I’m Writing Mari Shauna Hate Sex At Her Wedding With Jackie Haunting

the inescapable structure of tragedy, the lines of causality

matthew stover, star wars episode III: revenge of the sith novelization / prophetic perfect tense / louise glück, the triumph of achilles / hadestown, “road to hell” / sunnyscenegenerator / joanna newsom, “waltz of the 101st lightborne”

hey sorry if I was weird and quiet and silent and nonverbal and dry and boring I just didn't know you well

Hear me out yall, a fic where Rosita suffers postpartum depression and psychosis after having Coco because for the stressful situations they’re in and their general mental health it seems a bit more likely the show portrays. Like the frustration of having survived so much shit only to lose your mind over nothing (Rosita’s pov because postpartum depression is not a joke)

The angst, the tension, the years of trauma colliding because you’re finally safe but you’ve been at war for so long you don’t know what that means. And you want your daughter to have a good future but you don’t know if you believe jn good anymore and ????

Don’t worry, lots of found family and semi-comforting hallucinations because I could not leave Rosita hanging

Because maybe Bradley burned down all of his bridges, but Jake never had any to begin with.

third times the charm by sapphic_terror on ao3 :)

I was gonna finish and upload my one tree hill fic but I stayed up late stress baking last night so I will be passing out (why does sleep exhaustion hit you the second it turns 10???)

“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace”

— Oscar Wilde (The Canterville Ghost)

It’s getting harder to be a shaunahat supporter but I’ll persist (I actually like it when my lesbians are toxic) (let women be crazy 2025)

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the actual fuck

You know what I love? Bathroom scenes in writing. And I don’t mean fucking in the shower, I mean one person has a breakdown and the other person ends up climbing into the tub and holding them. I mean one person is taking a warm bath and the sun is shining through the windows and they’re alive and their partner comes in and just sits by their side, and maybe they hold the other persons face, or maybe they just sit and breathe together. I mean one person is not having a good day so they camp out in this tiny safe room and just stay together, not out of obligation, but pure fucking love. That’s my kink.

Charles is old, older than he has any right to be, and she is not the first child he’s buried. She’s not even the first empty grave he’s mourned.