The Little Lady

A lady never tells, never surrenders, and always knows best. ⊙ Libra ☽ Gemini ↑ Aries A millenial. Dr. Ackerman | Twitter | AO3

[formerlybutchpoet]

I'm like if a chivalrous knight kissed a fair maiden's hand and said "my lady, I fight for you" and then walked off and immediately tripped over his own armor and fell on the ground

[silentmagi]

#funny#if the lady's a keeper she would make a funny comment to dissipate the tension#'my good knight though I admire your skills you have no need to fight the whole earth for my sake'

This would be amazing.

[traveleorzea]

"As I was saying, milady," he springs to his feet, declaring proudly, "I worship the very ground you - " before tripping again.

[benditozorrito]

#my knight in stumbling armor

[thelittle-lady]

I can be fearless. I can be as fearless and honest as you are. If you will teach me.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

Annie used to have a funny theory: we all have a Year Zero around which the calendars of our lives pivot. At some point you meet someone, and they become so important, so metamorphic, that ten, twenty, sixty-five years down the line you look back and realize that you could split your existence in two. Before they showed (BCE), and your Common Era. Your very own Gregorian calendar.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

Maybe that’s what he majored in at Dartmouth: Snow Shoveling. Nicely complemented by a minor in Muscles. His honors thesis was titled The Importance of Armceps in Ergonomic Excavating. Then he moved to graduate school to study How-to-Make-a-Mundane-Winter-Task-Look-Attractive Law. And here I am, unable to take my eyes off a decade of overpaid-for higher education.

— Ali Hazelwood, Under One Roof

[thelittle-lady]

I know what she smells like. This little freckle on her neck when she pulls up her hair. Her upper lip is a little plumper than the lower. The curve of her wrist, when she holds a pen. It’s wrong, really wrong, but I know the shape of her. I go to sleep thinking about it, and then I wake up, go to work, and she is there, and it’s impossible. I tell her stuff I know she’ll agree to, just to hear her hum back at me. It’s like hot water down my fucking spine. She’s married. She’s brilliant. She trusts me, and all I think about is taking her to my office, stripping her, doing unspeakable things to her. And I want to tell her. I want to tell her that she’s luminous, she’s so bright in my mind, sometimes I can’t focus. Sometimes I forget why I came into the room. I’m distracted. I want to push her against a wall, and I want “her to push back. I want to go back in time and punch her stupid husband on the day I met him and then travel back to the future and punch him again. I want to buy her flowers, food, books. I want to hold her hand, and I want to lock her in my bedroom. She’s everything I ever wanted and I want to inject her into my veins and also to never see her again. There’s nothing like her and these feelings, they are fucking intolerable. They were half-asleep while she was gone, but now she’s here and my body thinks it’s a fucking teenager and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. There is nothing I can do, so I’ll just . . . not.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

You know who traditionally does poorly on standardized tests? Women and marginalized individuals. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy: groups that are constantly told by society that they’re less smart walk into a testing situation anxious as hell and end up underperforming. It’s called Stereotype Threat, and there’s tons of literature on that. Just like there’s tons of literature showing that the GRE does a terrible job at predicting who’ll finish grad school. But the heads of graduate admission all over the country don’t care and persist in using an instrument made to elevate rich white men.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

Fun fact about me: I am a fairly mellow person, but I happen to have a very violent fantasy life.

Maybe it’s an overactive amygdala. Maybe it’s too much estrogen. Maybe it’s the lack of parental role models in my formative years. I honestly don’t know what the cause is, but the fact remains: I sometimes daydream about murdering people.

By “sometimes,” I mean often.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

The real villain is love: an unstable isotope, constantly undergoing spontaneous nuclear decay.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a community of women trying to mind their own business must be in want of a random man’s opinion.

— Ali Hazelwood, Love on the Brain

[thelittle-lady]

HYPOTHESIS: Approximately two out of three fake-dating situations will eventually involve room-sharing; 50 percent of room-sharing situations will be further complicated by the presence of only one bed.

— Ali Hazelwood, The Love Hypothesis

[thelittle-lady]

He said the word “reputation” rolling his eyes a little, as if the concept of caring about what others thought was the dumbest thing since homeopathic antibiotics.

— Ali Hazelwood, The Love Hypothesis

[thelittle-lady]

HYPOTHESIS: Any rumor regarding my love life will spread with a speed that is directly proportional to my desire to keep said rumor a secret.

— Ali Hazelwood, The Love Hypothesis

[thelittle-lady]

HYPOTHESIS: When given a choice between A (a slightly inconveniencing situation) and B (a colossal shitshow with devastating consequences), I will inevitably end up selecting B.

— Ali Hazelwood, The Love Hypothesis

[thelittle-lady]

You're my polar star. I'll go wherever you guide me.

— Xiran Jay Zhao, Iron Widow

[thelittle-lady]

I've been told endless lies since I was born. That I was not kind enough, considerate enough, humble enough, honorable enough, pretty enough, pleasing enough. And if I failed to meet the needs of those around me, I did not deserve to live.

Propaganda. All of it. Propaganda to keep me chasing after the approval of others on my bound and broken feet, as if being a good servant is the only thing I should be proud of.

— Xiran Jay Zhao, Iron Widow

[darlinglittlemeg]

some of the main men in the Aliverse

Adam: I want her to know that I care and I’ll do it from afar if I have too

Levi: I am untterly in love with her

Jack: gurl who broke you

[words-and-coffee]

Alice Te Punga Somerville, Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised - Kupu rere kē

[ID: A poem titled: Kupu rere kē. [in italics] My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems. This advice came from a well-meaning woman with NZ poetry on her business card and an English accent in her mouth. I have been thinking about this advice. The convention of italicising words from other languages clarifies that some words are imported: it ensures readers can tell the difference between a foreign language and the language of home. I have been thinking about this advice. Marking the foreign words is also a kindness: every potential reader is reassured that although you’re expected to understand the rest of the text, it’s fine to consult a dictionary or native speaker for help with the italics. I have been thinking about this advice. Because I am a contrary person, at first I was outraged — but after a while I could see she had a point: when the foreign words are camouflaged in plain type you can forget how they came to be there, out of place, in the first place. I have been thinking about this advice and I have decided to follow it. Now all of my readers will be able to remember which words truly belong in -[end italics]- Aotearoa -[italics]- and which do not.

Next image is the futurama meme: to shreds you say…]

(Image ID by @bisexualshakespeare)