falsificatore

[falsificatore]

honesty day !

[falsificatore]

kordeliam·:

before  ashcroft,  norah  had  never  been  drunk.  the  amount  of  times  she’s  consumed  any  alcohol  at  all  she  could  probably  count  on  her  fingers.   the  few  times  at  communion,  when  her  father  had  still  been  around  urging  the  family  to  attend.   half  of  a  local  brew,  at  her  aunt’s  farm  out  in  the  country,  sitting  around  a  small  fire  with  her  mother.  they  had  needed  the  trip  so  badly  that  summer.   a  glass  of  wine  at  her  homeschool  graduation.   since  arriving,  her  encounters  with  a  lack  of  sobriety  had,  in  comparison,  skyrocketed.  first  it  was  hamlet  and  lysander’s  guiding  presence,  her  desire  to  be  as  like  them  as  possible,  so  squish  herself  into  the  family  she’d  never  had.  and  then  octavia  had  taken  up  her  case  –  charity,  she’d  once  called  it,  and  wasn’t  that  ironic?  –  and  she’d   REALLY   learned  how  to  enjoy  herself.  

it  didn’t  feel  right  without  her.  like  she  was  stuffed  into  an  ill  fitting  suit,  her  skin  shrunk  in  the  wash.  her  cheeks  were  cherry  red  ( had  she   always   flushed  like  this? )  and  her  heels  buckled  when  she  stepped.  it  had  been  a  long  night,  full  of  run  ins  and  conversations  she’d  rather  wish  she  never  had.  liam  was  the  most  welcome  presence  of  all,  when  he  appeared  right  in  front  of  her,  like  he’d  transported  there  to  save  her.  she’d  been  laughing  with  a  girl  she  didn’t  know  –  one  who’d  claimed  to  be  in  her  thursday  lecture,  but  norah  didn’t  typically  forget  a  face  –  but  any  semblance  of  a  conversation  between  them  had  been  long  forgotten.  “ liam!  roomie  of  mine  whom  i  love! ”  she  didn’t  tell  him  enough,  how  much  she  appreciated  his  company.  she  makes  a  note  to  do  so  more  often.  “ oh,  hush.  i’ve  hardly  had  anything, ”  but  the  way  she  leans  an  elbow  on  his  shoulder  for  balance  betrays  her.  “ if  you  threw  me  a  party  like  this,  it  would  be  the  last  party  you  ever  attend.  i  feel  like  i’m  stuck  in  a  giant,  ballroom  sized  corset.  so  stiff  and  proper.  don’t  know  how  you  all  do  this  regularly. ”  and  she  doesn’t  mean  to  say   you  all   like  there’s  an  us  and  a  them,  the  class  divide  that  she  usually  tries  so  hard  to  make  invisible,  but  she  doesn’t  notice  she’s  said  it,  either.  “ i’ve  lost  count  of  the  drinks,  honestly.  too  many  for  me  to  waltz  without  tripping  myself.  have  you  tried  the  champagne?  it’s  great! ”

one upon a time, many, many years ago now, many of those who’d gravitated into orbit around liam had figured that being years ahead in drinking experience was something to be proud of - for him, though, it was hard to see the positives of something so neutral, especially with it came with the fairly heavy downsides of needing three more drinks than everyone else for anything to properly kick in. a lot of the time, it was just needing to spend a bit more money or explain away his friend’s behaviour to their parents if they were suddenly laughing a lot harder at their awful jokes, sometimes be the one to be held accountable when they came home from a ‘quiet party’ almost about to pass out - but those were all crosses he was willing to bare. if there was one thing, though, which despite years of experienced he’d never massively warmed to, it was dealing with the lightweights. it had been endearing at first, he supposed - but when the time had come where it was definitely a rarity for one to crop up at an event, he had been able to breathe a sigh of relief.

when it was norah who’d ended up breaking his streak, however, part of him wasn’t in the slightest surprised - if he was surprised, it was only because somehow, he wasn’t exasperated. it was hard to be with someone like her.

allowing a small grin to slip into place as she spoke, he waited a few moments before he glanced away to look over the heads of those around them to search for a seat, only looking back for a split second to give her a skeptical squint and head tilt at her claim of having hardly anything - more out of habit, despite how much he realised he actually believed her. “please, you’d love my parties,” he scoffed lightheartedly, before lowering his voice, raising a hand to cover the other side of his mouth, glancing around as if he were about to reveal government secrets, “it’s all in the drinks,” and, giving her a gentle shove with a hand he’d repositioned to be hovering just above her shoulder, “so you’re already nailing it - you don’t mind if we go sit down for a minute, do you?” it’s not so much a question, but not an order, either - he doesn’t need to order someone he’s already lightly guiding away from the drinks towards one of the empty places he’d managed to scout out. the only thing that can distract him is her take on the drinks, to which he has to properly scoff and look at her with a look of mixed incredulity and something close to disappointment. “oh, norah - if you love me as much as you claim to, please, please promise me i can show you some actual good drinks some night. i’m actually begging you. ”

[falsificatore]

hate when people think I know stuff. I dont know anything, I just use Google. I Google simple words because they look like they're spelled wrong and I cant be sure. I Google how to boil eggs every time I do it. this is who I am.

[falsificatore]

woflies·:

closed starter for: @falsificatore· location: winter formal

“thank god,” wolfie let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face, plopping himself down in the empty seat next to liam. as always, there were always skeptics whenever a new member joined the imperium society, but wolfie had liked liam right off the bat — or perhaps he was attracted to the idea of a fresh start. someone who didn’t know the whole story. there was something about being around liam that could make him feel like he wasn’t william preston, but rather just, wolfie. another student at ashcroft. and that was exactly the kind of escape he needed from the formal now — to not feel like william preston. to not feel like every glance in his direction was a sympathetic one, pitying eyes and meaningless words. students he hardly knew telling him how sorry they were for his loss — how great octavia was. how perfect she was. they obviously didn’t know his sister very well. 

“if i have to hear one more person talk about this stupid fucking snow queen, i might just blow my head off,” he muttered, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for his flask. “i don’t understand why people care about this shit.” he scoffs, unscrewing the top off and tilting his head back to take a sip before offering it to the boy beside him. 

“so i take it formals aren’t really your thing?” it’s not a particularly sherlockian deduction - but somehow, liam has the feeling that some genius analysing his every movement isn’t what wolfie’s looking for. shifting his own chair slightly, not an adjustment that changes anything, just one to show he’s listening, force of habit - even if he’s taken a step back from the same plastered smile, feigned interest in the same five topics, the ‘i know’s and ‘but you have to consider’s that get peppered in whenever the topic of the society eventually comes up, he’s too far in to the show of the night to step out of his old charade fully. but then again, this is wolfie - so maybe, just maybe, he can tone himself down just enough, just for a few minutes. it’s the least he can do for him, really - he hadn’t needed to be put in a room with him, hadn’t needed to share a subject, hadn’t needed to be family or a resurrected memory, he’d just accepted him as part of the group, not wasted any time in getting them drinking together - he owed him for his civility, really, as what may have just looked like average politeness or a small comfort to some was reassurance, reassurance and a persuasion to stay for him. 

“you might want to keep your voice down, someone may just call you up for treason,” he warns, almost sagely if not for the hint of a laugh seeping in from the back of his throat, tacking on a quick “cheers” as he takes the flask from him and lets himself have a quick sip. it’s like a brief moment of heaven, almost as if he’d lost all sense of what something that wasn’t shit champagne could taste like - he has to sit with it for a moment before he can let himself talk again. “i dunno, though - it is just a bit of fun, and people who need to be on event committees or whatever do need something to do every now and again, don’t they?” he shrugs as he hands the flask back with another nod of thanks, letting his gaze drift out towards the decorations. he can’t blame him, he supposes, he’s been there long enough that the novelty is sure to have worn off - and in the aftermath of everything with octavia, lysander - he doesn’t get it, but he gets it. “is it like this every year?”

[falsificatore]

starter for @theresarigby​ !

sometimes, liam feels like part of him is running on some sort of auto-pilot. too many times, he’s found himself reacting before he thinks, speaking before he can run the words through his head first, ending up somewhere and only having his motivation to move catching up to him later - and now, less than an hour out from the crowning of the snow queen, he’s trying his hardest not to flat out push people out of his way as he struggles out of the hall, pulling the door open and breaking out into as much of a sprint as his suit will allow towards escalus house. he knows one thing for sure, but not how he learned it - maybe it was overheard gossip, maybe someone told it straight to his face, maybe it was some kind of familial psychic link (they weren’t twins, sure, but he wasn’t about to pretend that he hadn’t wished he’d known her since the dawn of his existence, felt as though in some other world, with other versions of them, they could’ve been) or maybe he’d just imagined it, the actually decent sips of whatever it had been wolfie and iskra had offered him slipping through the barrier of the school-rationed champagne, making him imagine things - however it was, it didn’t matter. the one thing he knew for sure - tess had fainted.

if he was as nearly as rational as he tried to seem around the society, he’d know he was overreacting. the part of him that controlled how he tried to seem did know it - she’d fainted, big deal, someone was going to that night, it just happened to be his cousin, he had nothing to worry about - except he did. he wasn’t an idiot - well, he was, maybe, but he wasn’t stupid. he knew what she was like, he knew at least some of what she took, and though he couldn’t blame her for it, he could blame himself for not keeping a better eye out for her, he hadn’t seen her all night, he was such an idiot, he knew what could happen, what passing out could mean - he’s never been one to panic, not around friends, panicking was stupid, panic ruined the fun, and he’d had nothing to worry about with them anyway - but he had something to worry about with her. she was family.

as, finally, he came close to the edge of campus, the house in the near distance (a house was all it was - it wasn’t just in the name, no, it was just a house, not a home, it would never be his home) he gave up on the effort he’d been making to unbutton his jacket as he’d gone, knowing their was no point now trying to make himself any less restricted now, and fumbling with the now almost-frosted-feeling buttons just made him look stupid - he had something else to focus on. when, as he opened the door and was faced with that something being directly in front of him on the stairs, looking the absolute opposite of fainted, and had to pause for a moment with a hand on the doorframe for balance, he was hit by a realisation that he could only ponder in the moment he had to catch his breath - maybe he was stupid.

“tess, aren’t you mean to be… i heard that you… someone said, i don’t know… you fainted? and then someone else, and i didn’t see you, and you should be - shit, are you okay?” as if to clear it, he quickly shook his head (another unsuccessful endeavour) before hurrying over to the stairs, putting his foot on the first one as he looked up at her. “just - fuck, is that blood?” he stammered over the words, still half-breathless, speaking them as if it were his first time trying to piece a sentence together and he was just falling short of the mark - he had too much he needed to say, not enough words to say them with, not enough ways to ask if she was alright, stuck just looking like the idiot he fucking was - “what’s going on?”

[falsificatore]

starter for @gevrgina​ !

when liam sees georgina through briefly-passing gap in the crowd, it’s like he’s been visited by an angel. not in the same way it’d been when they’d first met all those years ago, no, (not entirely, anyway - but he’s not so stupid he’d think of acting on it if it was) and not just because of how gorgeous she looks - this time, it’s like something spiritual. it’s a rescue. a moment to step back, take a breath, collect himself. it’s a reassurance that he’s not the only one in the society who seems to be losing their fucking minds. he knew full well from weeks of trying to break through how tangled the whole group was, and though he couldn’t blame them for it, in the same way you couldn’t blame headphones for getting in knots after hours of being jostled around in a back, they hadn’t chosen what had happened - but for some reason, he’d stupidly assumed that maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to put things aside for the formal, just one night - but alas. with half of them off fighting, a good lot jumping ship from what he could tell of their apparently dwindling numbers, what had meant to be a night of just chatting and drinking with his classmates had turned into what he could only call imperium society pr. as much as it did solidify the feeling of being back home at his parent’s parties, he had to admit it was stifling - but georgina, stood there looking as perfect as she always did, how the hell had she not been nominated for queen - she was a breath of fresh air, and before he knew it, he was sidestepping his way through the others towards her. for the first time that night, despite how odd it had been to be near her before now, a weight had somehow been lifted off his shoulders.

“georgina!” it wasn’t the name he wanted to call her, the one he’d had to fight off his tongue every time he saw her, but still, hopefully enough to grab her attention. as he finally neared her, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a moment of looking her up and down he shut it for a moment, just lifting his arms and giving her a defeated sort of smile before letting them fall back down to his sides, any trace of what he’d been about to say vanished. “god, look at you, you look stunning - is that valentino? or am i just assuming when you intern somewhere you have to wear their stuff for the rest of time - sorry, you know i’ve never been a dress guy.” his smile turned slightly sheepish, but he couldn’t keep a spark of laughter out of his eyes. “wolfie knows how lucky he is, yeah?”

[falsificatore]

starter for @ofvegas​ !

growing up, liam had never once claimed to actually enjoy his parent’s parties, primarily because as far as he was aware, he hadn’t. sure, the drinking was fun, socialising with people three times his age he’d never met before and chatting with them like they were family only to drift off back into the crowd and never see them again was always a good laugh, and he didn’t want to admit how long he’d sometimes spend just wandering the halls of each event marvelling at the lights, the architecture, the art up on the wall - but he hadn’t enjoyed them, of course he hadn’t, and he certainly didn’t miss them. at least, he didn’t think he had - it was only when he’d found himself spending the hours leading up to it actually in his room, no concern for being watched or overstepping someone who had no right to claim to space as theres as he was too busy agonising over what exactly he should wear down to the buttons (what style, how many done up, if any at all) that he realised maybe, some tiny part of him did. he’d ended up spending so much time getting ready on his own he’d completely managed to miss norah and valentine leaving - he hadn’t had time to worry when he’d emerged into the living room and found it empty, but as soon as he spotted the latter of his roommates in the corner of his eye, he found himself letting out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“val!” he called out as he quickly made his way over to join her, taking a two-step diversion to grab another flute of champagne before continuing back on his path, looking her and her outfit up and down as he got nearer. “sorry i couldn’t wish you luck for tonight on the way out - you look amazing, though, seriously.” he held out the champagne for her as he spoke with a smile, as if it were a peace offering for a conflict that hadn’t existed. “how’re you feeling? nervous?”

[falsificatore]

starter for @iskragill​ !

“oh, you don’t want to drink that, i know the stuff here isn’t great but that, it tastes…” liam pulled a face of utmost disgust, the only way he could truly express how terrible the stuff was - as it turned out, it was also the only way he could realise exactly what he was doing.

finding a way to talk to iskra had been something he’d been meaning to do all night - honestly, it was something he’d been meaning to do since he’d first exchanged a greeting with her at the rather unfortunate setting of her best friend’s loch-side memorial - but when he’d first heard that she’d been nominated for snow queen, the first thing he’d done (after casting his vote, of course) had been to push speaking to her far to the top of his things-to-do-at-the-formal agenda, right above ‘mingle’ and ‘drink’. as much as he’d been holding out to do it, however, apparently things weren’t going to play out exactly as he’d imagined - granted, he hadn’t really imagined anything concrete, but when he’d spotted her by the drinks reaching for brand he knew deep down in his gut was possibly the worst possible option available there, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to save her. it felt like verbally stumbling over the starting line before the pistol had been fired - but by the time he’d realised the whole situation, it was too late for him to stop himself. he just had to act like he’d meant it, confident. run the race.

“i mean, even if it was passable, which it’s not - the guys who sell it over here, they’re right pricks. you do you, but it’s been a struggle all night not to just tip it all out outside just to spite them. it wouldn’t be a waste.” giving her a small smile as he spoke, he turned away for a moment to grab a quick refill before glancing back towards her, trying to instantly push past his seemingly sudden possession by a spirit who’d spent all it’s mortal life being a dickhead at every tasting, probably murdered by the vintner while the rest of the tour turned an understanding blind eye. “sorry, should’ve asked - how’s your night been? future snow queen?”

[falsificatore]

starter for @kordeliam !​

since he’d first begun drinking (which was, really, just a nicer way of saying before he could remember,) liam had found that his habits had neatly organized themselves into two distinct categories - with friends, and with company. in the years leading up to what his school friends still rather melodramatically referred to his exile to edinburgh, ‘with friends’ had been the one he’d indulged in most, the friends in question being the same ones to consider his time at ashcroft some kind of cross he must bear - drinking whatever he could get his hands on for however long he could go without getting either sick or caught, no consideration for what he’d say or do when he was no longer in control, because neither would those around him be either - but ‘with company’, it was a different story. company could be anyone - his parents, more often than not, but where it really mattered was at their parties, surrounded by business partners and friends from across europe. drink for show, not to get drunk, stay sober enough to be polite and know everything he’d done once the whole thing was over with, just be presentable.

whenever he’d gone out with the friends he’d made since coming to the school, liam had found himself neatly falling back into ‘with friends’ - but now, despite the fact it was the same crowd, something about the atmosphere of the winter formal, the suits, the dresses, the champagne, the chandeliers, the dancing - suddenly, he’d been thrown back to presentable, whether he liked it or not. then again, even if he wanted to get drunk, it was seeming near impossible - even as he headed over to the champagne to get his umpteenth refill of the night, all he could tell was that the drinks were shit, but then again, what else should he have expected from a school formal, no matter how much the students here could get away with?

there was one thing he certainly hadn’t expected to see as he’d pushed through the crowd with his empty flute, however- or rather, there was one person he certainly hadn’t expected to see. “so this is what it takes to get you to drink? if you’d told me all you needed was just a big fancy party, it would’ve saved me a lot of disappointment before.” tilting his head just a fraction with a small, inquisitive smile, he glanced away for a moment to set the glass down before giving norah a proper look. “just... out of curiosity, how much have you had?”

[falsificatore]

TASK 01. FIRST ENCOUNTER

the night liam finally committed to his move into escalus house after a semester of flitting between hotels in the city was not proving to be an easy one. 

it was one of those nights where it was just impossible to get to sleep for more than two minutes at a time, two minutes he’d sacrifice forty minutes of tossing and turning to grab hold of. after the first two hours of getting tangled in his sheets trying to find a position his brain would deem comfortable enough, he’d staggered out of bed and rummaged in his boxes to finally pull out an unopened bottle of whiskey, which he’d made no hesitation in downing, figuring the stronger the nightcap the better - but still, whenever he’d been able to actually nod off, he’d quickly find himself awake once more, scrambling to check the time on his phone, only to be disappointed when he found only ten minutes had passed since the last trial. 

finally, though, after uncomfortably drifting off to the sound of wind much-more-comfortably whistling against the glass window, he woke to silence - he woke to light. if he hadn’t suddenly felt the urge to, once again, check his phone, he wouldn’t have kept his eyes open for more than a few seconds - but before he had the chance to confirm his suspicion it was about five, he saw her.

she was stood leaning against the doorframe, the door the doorframe itself framed only a third open - still letting in enough light to illuminate her. at least, that’s what he supposed was causing the glow around her edges, the softness she seemed to have against her backdrop. she was looking at, no, watching him, her head on a three quarter angle - she seemed to be making some sort of a judgement, at first, but the look she was giving him was one he knew all to well - it was fondness. 

she was were she belonged, he felt that in his gut - but when he tried to greet her, had the slightest notion to just give her a tired goodmorning, but he couldn’t open his mouth. 

she didn’t seem to need him to talk, however - in fact, it seemed like she was already listening, or saying something herself - she was in conversation, and somehow, he felt like he was too, but he was far, far away from it - but it was him.

instead of speaking, he finally decided to try and sit up, but whenever he went to move it felt like his whole body was running on sand, or through water, it was bogged down, he just couldn’t. except he could - somehow, there he was, he was sitting, and as he realised he was the sun moved up just ever so slightly, illuminating the room just the tiniest bit more - there, with a shine reflecting right into his eyes, photos on his desk of people he knew, of course he knew them, they were his friends, and next to them, books piled up that he’d read, but he’d been meaning to return them to the library for a while now, he had to get someone to remind him, through the crack in the door he could see paintings he knew were valentines - and then, stood against the doorframe, was her.

she’d always been there. he’d invited her to be, after all, and she always got up before he did.

it was only then he spotted, just as he turned her head, that still silhouetted was something of a spike, or a clump - too solid to be a knot, surely, but not like any sort of hair accessory he’d ever seen before. a painstaking wade through thick air was what it took to furrow his eyebrows slightly, glance from it to her - but after a moment’s apparent confusion, she seemed to realise what he was looking at. quickly, she flashed him a smile, raised a hand to it, and when she pulled it away, her fingertips were coated in something far, far darker than she seemed to be. 

it started in the roof of his mouth, the bitterness, the coppery bitterness, unmistakable - he couldn’t smell it, but he could taste it, the blood. that’s what it had been, and now, with her head fully turned, he could see it, dripping down her forehead, down her neck, down into her shirt, it had been there the whole time, how could he have not seen it - he tried to open his mouth, he knew he could, but he also knew if he did, he’d be sick.

slowly, she starts to come towards him, but she doesn’t seem to walk - it’s not really a glide, though, either. he’d get up to verify just what the movement was, also likely to sprint out, but once more, he can’t move, not a muscle. all he wants to do is ask if she’s okay - no, no he doesn’t, he wants to shout for someone, he wants to leave. 

all he knows for sure is that now, she’s sitting herself down on the edge of the bed, a small smile on her face. that softness, it’s still there, but now there’s something of a challenge to it as well, he knows that glint in her eyes - not from her, but from himself, reflected back in the eyes of others. he doesn’t want a challenge now, though. his only want, he thinks, is simple - he wants to know what the fuck’s happening.

as usual, she seems to know that - and suddenly, there’s noise. she’s been talking all the while, but it hasn’t been his conversation, how the fuck could he think it was his conversation - now, though, it’s his, she’s focused on him, not him. she doesn’t need to tell him to listen - nothing in the world, he thinks, could make him look away now. 

“the truth,” she starts, “is in a box under a bed -” and then, although he expects, hopes, needs her to explain, she just shrugs, “- pretty weak hiding place, if you ask me.”

he drops. 

like in the short dreams, but not in the uncomfortable sense, the ones you have before the proper dream, where you’re sliding down a ramp and you’re falling into some void and then you hit your bed, and then you can go back to sleep in the comfort it won’t happen again - but he hadn’t been sliding down a ramp, he hadn’t fallen into a void, he had been in his room, he’d been with her.

except he hadn’t.

it’s funny how things just make sense in dreams - because now he’s awake, actually awake, he can see that wasn’t his room. sure, there was that chip on the side of the windowframe, and the way the light hit was identical to the way it is now - but his bed doesn’t face the door. he doesn’t have photos or books piled up on a desk - he doesn’t even have a desk yet. the paintings he could see out through the door - he’s never seen them in his life, he has no idea if they’re the kind of thing his new roommate would like, not yet, anyway - and her. 

he has no fucking clue who she was.

[falsificatore]

cwbosch‌:

starter for @falsificatore​ !

Sneaking out past curfew wasn’t smart, Christian knew that. But for the first time in his life, he found lately that he didn’t want to be smart about things, he wanted to be fucking distracted. Luckily, bonding with Liam meant that he had a partner with which to be stupidly distracted, and Christian was grateful for that– not just because it made him less likely to wind up in a ditch somewhere, but because he enjoyed Liam’s company. Liam was uninvolved and therefore uncorrupted by anything Octavia, and Christian also hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. And if the two of them were downing Jager bombs off-campus, nothing Octavia-related could reach either of them. They were stupid, but in another sense, they were safe.

“Fuck ghosts,” Christian slurred as the two of them stumbled out of the pub. If he was thinking to check his watch, he’d know it was exactly 3:21am. “Fuck them to hell, pun intended. Am I right, mate?” He threw an arm around Liam’s shoulders to brace them both, but it somehow made the arrangement even more clumsy.

liam wouldn’t say he’d had a lot of fears coming into ashcroft - misgivings, maybe, a couple of notions that the place was way too fucking pretentious even for him, sure - but fears, absolutely not. just the word itself, fears, it sounded childish - but if there was one thing he could admit to once having, it was a dread. the dread that once he arrived, all of his classmates would be exactly like the people from his old school who had wanted to be there were - stuckup, obsessive about following the rules, looking down on anyone who dared to do otherwise, people he’d have to hand-hold-baby-steps into showing an actual good time if he wanted any small chance of being able to stand them. luckily, though, it hadn’t taken long for his fear (no, not a fear, his dread,) to be safely brushed away - and now, trying not to trip as he and christian made their way back out into the relatively fresh edinburgh air, it would take some  very instantaneous (if being immediate could be faster than being immediate) sobering up to remember it had even been there.

heading out from campus in the dead of night with christian by his side had very quickly become one of liam’s favourite activities - drinking with any of the others, if something of a rarity given the state they were all in, was perfectly fine, but there was something about him, something about the circumstances in which they skipped off to some pub or another, that just made the whole thing so much more rewarding, made it feel more like he was back home with an old mate. with christian, liam could get actually properly drunk - both of them could. his new friend’s reasoning being what it was or not - it was more than he’d expected from the ashcroft experience, but by christ, he was glad it was. momentarily focused on getting somewhere close to balanced, it took liam a second to realise christian was talking to him, but as soon as he did he looked up towards him with a quick inquisitive grin - a simple grin which quickly turned into a laugh and a half-coughed swear as he nearly found himself falling straight into him as he drew him closer. nonetheless, he quickly lifted an arm to his friends shoulder, lifting his head with a final laugh. “fuck ghosts!” he came close to shouting as an echo, “fuck ‘em to heaven or hell, exactly, whatever makes them just piss… right off! shit, mate… is ashcroft a very… ghostey place? cause that’s not something they tell you on the fuckin… the day. the first one. yknow?” 

[falsificatore]

MAKE YOUR MUSE !

[falsificatore]

ofvegas‌:

*  // ♦︎ it was @falsificatore​​ in the ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ !

valentine did not have an artistic bone in her body. visual art was the one thing she was incapable of doing in school. writing and math were easy, music was second nature, but for some reason, she could never wrap her head around painting and drawing. lucky for her, she had an unlimited amount of funds to purchase paintings for her apartment. she was in the process of hanging decorations ( talk about controlling what you can when things seem out of your control ) when she ended up at an impasse.

she had a one painting in her left hand, a gift from her father on her 20th birthday. it was an abstract piece, with lots of warm colors, and she hadn’t hung it since he’d given it to her. in her right hand, she had a smaller piece, a portrait of the eiffel tower she had purchased on a summer trip to france. 

turning around to face her roommate, she held both portraits in his direction. “what do you think?”

an hour ago, liam had sat himself at their small dining table with his books and a new bottle of rosé he’d been meaning to taste test for quiet some time, with the sole purpose of getting his reading for that night done (secondary purpose - to avoid having to do it in his room on his own) but slowly but surely, he’d found that objective slipping further and further from his grasp. not to his objection, however - in that time, he himself had actually found that watching valentine go about decorating was a much more entertaining way to spend his time. not to mention, it was probably more a necessary task to undertake than anything else - afterall, if there wasn’t someone there to give second opinions, then he and norah would be stuck sitting in an apartment with paintings that would definitely throw off at least his whole time there - and though he didn’t want to label himself as an art snob, this was quite possibly one of the most important things he’d have to do all semester, on behalf of both himself and their other roommate. philosophy could wait.

now, perched up on the edge of the table, he squinted slightly as both options were presented to him, letting out a small ‘hmm’ of contemplation as he weighed them both up in his mind - by this point, it was more for the fun of it than anything else, and possibly had something to do with the fact that the rosé had long since been swapped out for something stronger. finally, he pointed with his closest hand to the abstract, clicking his tongue slightly to go along with the motion. “that one. come on, val, anyone can get an eiffell tower, and even if they couldn’t, we’re not french,” the nationality is almost said with contempt, “so we have no excuse of showing off our culture with some metal triangle bullshit. actually - are you french?” suddenly, all worries about the paintings were gone - this, this was what he needed to worry about. 

[falsificatore]

gevrgina‌:

starter for @falsificatore​

– THE MEMORIES ARE GOOD. they’re weird, but they’re good. she remembers the first glimpse of liam at the end of last semester, when he was invited to join the society – they didn’t talk much that. she was preoccupied with things like, you know, the death of a close friend, but she’d spent the entire evening scrolling through a folder on her phone titled ‘summer in campania’ – just reminiscing. saying that she never expected to see him again felt like a cliche, but it was true – especially HERE. 

“liam!” she drops her books down in the seat beside him in the library. because it’s time to bite the bullet – if they’ll be living together, they’d better break the ice until it’s water. “hi,” she greets, million-dollar smile stretching across her features. “how are you getting on?” it’s a much different environment, the dark high ceilings of the library, surrounded by the smell of musty books. nothing like the italian sunshine under which they’d become well acquainted, running through cobblestone streets to hop on the back of a motorcycle. there is nothing cinema-like about the horrors they’ve experienced lately.

“honestly, i – i’m still so surprised to see you!” she admits, adjusting to face him. “i mean, last we talked, you didn’t have any interest in university, but…” georgina trails off slightly, her smile faltering with a touch of sadness. “i suppose it’s been a long time since then.” 

if any of his old classmates back home could see him now, he wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t recognize him at first glance - holed away in a school library, a laptop propped up on top of an honest to god textbook, simultaneously functioning as a weight to hold it open to a page he’s actually reading, and notebook a with notes being written by his hand spread out in front of him, he’s a far cry from the liam of a few months ago - and if he’d be so different to people he’d seen every weekday since he was 12, 5, for those he went way back with, he’s certainly impressed when he’s able to be so warmly recognised by someone who had, up until a few months ago, essentially just been a memory. an amazing memory, sure, a memory he’d, despite himself, kept a semi-hopeful eye out for the next summer - but one, in the end, he’d been okay to just leave back where and when they’d met.

but now, against all odds, here she was - and though when he’d first gotten a glimpse of the other members when he was brought to meet the society he couldn’t help but brush away the circumstances and let himself get washed over by not just the shock, but the honest joy of seeing her again, it (luckily) didn’t take a genius to figure that it wasn’t really the right time, and very quickly after he’d luckily been able to piece together that she was already with someone at ashcroft. it wasn’t as if he was angry at her for it, it wasn’t like he had a patent on being close to her, he wasn’t insane, nor was he in a sitcom, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t dated other people since their summer together, and somelike who wolfie seemed to be was what she deserved - but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how difficult it made actually sitting down for a proper conversation with her, especially considering the circumstances he could no longer just sweep under the rug. strangers he could put an act on for, sure, easy, had been doing it his whole life - but this isn’t a stranger. this is georgina. what the hell’s he supposed to do when she comes to sit down by him while he’s studying?

“hey!” he half-laughs, pulling an earbud out and quickly scrambling to pause his music - already making an idiot of himself, he knows, - “yeah, yeah, things here’ve been… okay, i guess, good, actually, i mean, apart from…“ idiot, fucking don’t, “- how about you, how’re your classes going? you’re doing art, yeah?” as he talks, he starts to manoeuvre his books closer to the wall to make more room, “and - yeah, me too! i mean, i’m surprised too, it was a pretty quick change, me back then wouldn’t of… but you here as well - i mean, not that i didn’t think you would get in here, but i didn’t know you were… it has been a while, yeah.” he’s not sure how much he believes in god, but please, if he’s out there, can he do something to straighten him out just for the next few minutes so she forgets everything he’s just said?

[falsificatore]

kordeliam‌:

WITH   @falsificatore​   IN  the  escalus  house 

“ how  long  have  you  been  out  here? ”  spoken  quietly,  so  as  to  not  disturb  the imaginary  peace  they’ve  all  been  grappling  with.  norah  isn’t  sure  what  time  reads  on  the  clock  she  hears  tick  softly  from  the  kitchen,  but  she  knows  it’s  been  dark  for  far  too  long.  neither  of  them  should  be  awake  –  her  and  liam.  but  some  demons  plague  them  all,  and  some  students  live  under  cursed  roofs,  feeling  the  hole  where  ghosts  used  to  sleep  wrap  around  restless  limbs  at  night.  she  moves  liam’s  legs  on  top  of  her  own so  she  can  sit  where  he  lays  on  the  couch.  she  knows  he  does  this,  avoids  his  new  room  and  she  can’t  sleep  right  in  her  own,  but  it’s  still  a  sight  that  makes  her  breath  catch.  “ are  you  thinking  about  leaving  us  all  yet?  i  wouldn’t  blame  you,  if  you  were. ”  there’s  a  hint  of  a  joke  in  her  voice  rough  from  attempted  sleep,  but  most  of  what  norah  ever  says  is  sincere.  “ i  can’t  sleep  either. ”

it took longer than liam would’ve liked to admit for him to realise that someone had come out to join him in the darkness of the living room - he was sure that at least a good few seconds had passed since norah had asked her question by the time his brain got to actually processing it and reacting, at which stage he had quickly lifted his arm from his face and blinked his eyes properly open just in time to see her dimly-lit silhouette already making its way over towards the couch he’d temporarily adopted as a bed for the night. it hadn’t been an intentional choice, he’d really just been meaning to sit up on his phone for a while to wind down for the night - at least that’s what the excuse he’d been formulating since the device died he-didn’t-even-know-how-many hours ago. “oh, i dunno, not long…” he started, stifling a yawn - despite knowing full well the battery was beyond gone, he still lifted it from where it had been dangling lazily from his hand as if to check the actual time - and at no response to the clicking of the on button, he just turned back to her and shrugged. he hadn’t spent the past few hours fully asleep, but he hadn’t been fully awake either, not since before the phone died - now, though, he was trying his hardest to get to that state of fully awake before norah could notice. 

though he’d made at an attempt at sitting up to make some space for her that didn’t involve using his legs as a throw rug, he couldn’t help but let himself fall back as he omitted a short, tired burst of laughter. “nah, no way - every hotel in the city’s sick of me, where would i go?” he half-smiled, trying his hardest to keep the mood light - but he sighed quietly as he relaxed back into the cushion he’d rested up on the armrest, shutting one eye. “have you tried counting sheep? just a little sip of rum?” he suggested, again, attempting to bring some kind of humour to their situation - but that tone seemed to have mostly clocked out a few seconds ago, so, after a few moment’s hesitation - “do you just wanna talk?”

[falsificatore]

@cwbosch

[falsificatore]

@gevrgina

Hanna and Caleb “Haleb” Do Not Disturb 6x15