That Scene In The Woods Where Jane Grabs The Sword And Wields It In This Skilled Choreography, Her Dress

that scene in the woods where Jane grabs the sword and wields it in this skilled choreography, her dress and cape billowing around her, and Guildford's raw reaction being "Holy Shit"

the man realized he's in love. he's done for. this woman could not get any better, he could not be luckier.

what do ppl even talk about in penpal letters?

underrated My Lady Jane moment: Guilford doing that insane little thing with his tongue during the kiss before their first time. like a slut that he is.

is it weird that I can recognize my crush from voice alone?

and I mean ‘crush’ in the idealized, platonic interest who I know nothing about outside of their occupation and appearance; who I see sporadically and theorize endlessly about.

like, we’ve never talked. He’s never looked my way. I don’t know his name. I like it this way because it’s harmless and the threat of rejection is not real.

to add further details, he’s a paramedic that drops patients off at the ED I work at as a scribe. I’m not kidding when I tell you I can instantly recognize his voice on the radio when they give report while en route - out of the dozens of fire rescues that influx through the day.

It’s fucking weird. Like I will KNOW it’s him from just one word.

every day i'm more disappointed in real-life men.

i'm seriously starting to consider whether i'm only attracted to fictional men and maybe that is mostly because they were WRITTEN BY WOMEN.

like i'm intellectually and platonically attracted to women. i admire them, feel safe around them, want to cherish them and sometimes i AM sexually attracted to them.

whereas with men, it's just disappointing lol. i'm only ever attracted to them sexually, and it's only a week out of every month (iykyk) and i end up creating this false idea of them in my head that never lives up to reality.

diagnose me, please.

(maybe I’m just not the type of woman that good men fall in love with or maybe it’s too early to tell or maybe I shouldn’t define my life by the presence or absence of romantic love. maybe one can live a full life without it)

i hold on to market flowers that have since dried and wilted because i need the tangible reminder that we are all so fragile and impermanent. that all beauty wanes, much as the moon