#harlow kensington

[dizstermania]

harblow whats your shoe size.🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🥩📌

[salamaniac]

what😟

[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [3] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 7.7k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 2 >> Part 3 >> Part 4

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When your stepmother announces that the two of you will be attending the Harlowes’ upcoming garden party, you decide not to complain. It isn’t as if anything would come of it even if you did. But the Harlowes are a nice family, and their parties are never too intense—it is perfectly acceptable to pull out one of your older, more comfortable gowns for one of these events, and not have to worry about having a new one made. 

Not that you have the money to afford new gowns at the moment. But even so, re-wearing one of your older ones saves you the effort of having to fetch your embroidery hoops and threads to spruce up one of your gowns just to give it the illusion of being new. 

The day of the garden party dawns grey and wet in the morning, but by early afternoon the sun cheerfully shines in a blue sky mostly devoid of clouds. The light drizzle of the morning gives the grass a little sparkle as you step over the green, and to make things even better, a few gentlemen engage you in conversation almost immediately after you join the party, which takes you far away from your stepmother. 

It's a strange feeling, having people around who are actually interested in courting you. You are no stranger to having admirers, it is true, but any admirers you had never showed much interest in actually pursuing you. Even after Mr. Choi started pretending to court you, the general sentiment around you still seemed to be mostly look, don’t touch, until Lord Kim and his friends spoke to you at the Smythe-Smith musicale. With that conversation, it seems as though some final barrier has come crashing down, giving the men of the ton some sort of signal that you are acceptable for courtship. 

You are begrudgingly grateful to Mr. Choi for proposing this idea, and to Lord Kim for being the first to actually begin courting you. But you can’t say you don’t find it a little demeaning that all of these men now asking for your attentions felt the need to wait for other men to approve you first before trying their hands. 

Still, though, you need to be married, and beggars—or third season near-spinsters—can’t be choosers. So you smile prettily the way you’ve learned to and indulge them in conversation. Even though it is a garden party, Mrs. Harlowe has arranged for a short dais to be raised on the grass, a suitable floor for dancing. As the sun sets into evening, you engage some of the gentlemen in a few dances. 

Eventually, though, your mind and body begin to tire, and citing exhaustion, you duck away from your dance partners to find some peace and quiet. You don’t quite find that, but you do find the next best thing—Lady Choi by the refreshments, looking at the desserts.

“In need of saving?” she says as soon as you’re close enough, her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Here, you must be parched.”

You take the glass she hands you with thanks. “Not really saving,” you reply, taking a sip. “I’m just a little tired.” You sigh. “How are you? Is your husband not here?”

“I’m doing all right for myself.” She smiles. “I came alone, but Soobin and his brother said they would join me later. They should be here soon.”

You nod, smiling easily with her. She was married early the season you debuted, but prior to that she had been out for three years before she and Soobin finally realized their childhood love for one another. They were married soon after, but they of course still attended the season’s events, and last year when it became obvious you were not to be married for the second year in a row, she was one of the few who comforted you, rather than mocked you behind your back. You’ve become good friends over the past year despite your turbulent relationship with her brother in law. You can’t imagine how she abides Beomgyu in her daily life, but you only admire her all the more for it.

“Oh, Mr. Choi will be here too?” you ask. “He hadn’t mentioned it to me.”

“Curious, aren’t you?” Your friend snickers knowingly at you. You roll your eyes, because she actually knows nothing at all, but it isn’t as though you can say that right now. “You two are so strange. I suppose it really is true that hate is closer to love than anyone ever thinks.”

You just manage not to spew lemonade all over your friend’s dress. “Love?” you sputter, holding your drink at arm’s length before you spill it more. Already there are a few drops soaking into your gloves. “Where—what—we don’t love each other—”

“Only love could have ended that horrible blood between the two of you,” Lady Choi interrupts, glancing at you slyly. “Trust me, Y/N. If you don’t love him now, you will come to.”

Only love. That, or maybe just a deal made by two desperate people. 

“That is…a long time coming in the future,” you finally say. “He only started courting me a couple of months ago. We may be on better terms, but I’m…marriage…” You feel your cheeks get warm, even with the cool wind brushing across your cheeks. “We haven’t spoken of marriage. I don’t know if either of us is ready for it, or if we will even want it.”

Nothing you just said was a lie. But you still feel slightly nauseous just thinking of it. 

“People have gotten married in less time, and with less reason,” she points out. “Perhaps as his sister in law I am biased, but of all your suitors this season—and you have quite a few more than ever before—I believe him to be the best of all of them, and the best suited to you.” She squints at you briefly, then smiles. “I never thought I would say that. But when I saw you two in the park, talking and laughing…I must say, the two of you do make a striking pair.”

Talking and laughing. She doesn’t know that you two were trading thinly veiled insults almost until the moment you saw them. 

“Well, that is…very kind of you to say,” you get out. You take a sip of your glass of lemonade, ignoring the sticky drops still staining your gloves. The sky has darkened with the onset of evening so no one should be able to see it, but you can feel it. And with your hands cracked between washing dishes and the slowly cooling weather, the stinging lemonade doesn’t feel very good. You rack your mind for something to say, but behind your friend, two familiar figures catch your eye. “Oh!” you exclaim, relieved at the distraction. “Is that your husband?”

Sure enough, Lord Choi and Mr. Choi are coming over the grass, the last rays of sunlight framing their faces. Not for the first time, you envy your friend for her marriage. Lord Choi is handsome, very handsome, but your envy doesn’t come from his looks. Rather, it is the clear adoration on his face as he walks up to his wife and takes her arm so sweetly, the look they share after they greet each other that means a thousand things to them and no one else. 

“Miss L/N.” Mr. Choi takes your hand and you nearly jump, still rattled from your conversation with Lady Choi. Belatedly you realize he took the hand with the lemonade spill, but he’s already pressing the customary kiss on your knuckles so there isn’t any point in trying to pull away. He doesn’t say anything about it either. “I didn’t know you would be here today. How long have you been?”

“Well, my stepmother only decided we would attend a couple of days ago,” you reply back. Relief helps you smile quietly at him—you can manage polite conversation like this. “I’ve been here since the afternoon. We are very lucky the rain stopped earlier in the morning.”

“So we are,” he agrees. His gaze skips over behind you, and his gaze turns nonplussed. “It seems my brother and his wife have decided to give us some time alone.”

You turn and sure enough, the two of them are disappearing into the growing crowd, happily linked by their arms. You smile a little. “They’re in love,” is all you say. 

“Yes, I know,” Mr. Choi grumbles. “It was such a pain to watch them figure it out. I swear, Soobin was about to send me to an early grave.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “Was it truly so terrible?”

“Miss L/N, one of the worst things that can ever happen to you is to watch two idiots fall in love and not realize it.” He shudders. “Soobin would deny it every time I tried to talk to him. They just have to realize it themselves, and unfortunately that takes an eternity.” 

You didn’t know Lady Choi before she was married, but she’s told you a fair amount about her childhood. And in the end, it always came back to Lord Choi—Soobin. How they played together as kids, how he wrote to her even when he was in school, how he comforted her after her first season out with nary a proposal in sight. It was so obvious to you just from the way she spoke of him that she had loved him for a very, very long time. 

You try to imagine what it would be like to be around that for five, ten, maybe fifteen years, except without admitting that she loved him. You also shudder. 

It must have been infuriating. 

You say as much to Mr. Choi and he snickers. He doesn’t seem to do that around anyone else. Which makes sense—snickering is not exactly one of the hallmarks of polite society, tittering is more like it. But Mr. Choi doesn’t need to pretend to be polite around you given that you both have seen the worst parts of each other already. 

Hm. You always thought that Mr. Choi brought out the worst in you, but maybe he’s the only one you can truly be yourself around, and vice versa. Flaws and all. 

How ironic.

You drag yourself out of that strange train of thought with difficulty. Maybe you’ll probe it again later, but the idea that only Mr. Choi knows the real you makes you want to hide in the bushes and maybe scream. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Choi?” you ask, motioning to the refreshments. “It seems they have just refilled the table.”

Once both of you have drinks in hand, you congratulate yourself for having whiled away another few minutes of polite conversation with Mr. Choi. Then you realize that there aren’t very many people around here, so you have to continue talking with him. 

Good God. You didn’t realize it would be so difficult to hold a conversation with Mr. Choi that didn’t involve insults that echoed around the ton. It isn’t that you want to hurl obscenities at him now. You just don’t know what else to say. “Any residual trouble with the mamas?” you ask, because your deal is usually a safe topic when there aren’t others around. 

“Only a few of the most determined.” He smiles at you in that conspiratorial way, like you share a secret, and when you smile back it feels almost friendly. It isn’t a bad feeling. “Mrs. Jung…I hardly know anything about the woman, but when she puts her mind to something, she certainly does everything she can to see it to the end.”

You think back to the Mrs. Jung you know, all warm smiles and gentle eyes burning with a passion to see both of her daughters married to titled gentlemen. Her second daughter, Mihae, is a shy little thing—very sweet, very pretty, but very quiet. You wonder how she feels about her mother’s efforts. “Well, you aren’t wrong about that,” you reply frankly. “But she’s a good woman. Very kind.”

“I know. The two aspects are not mutually exclusive.” Mr. Choi sighs, then runs a hand through his hair. Your eye catches on the movement. In the fading sunlight, his brown hair takes on a tinge of gold, and for the first time you realize Mr. Choi really is handsome. You have never been blind to his looks, of course—you know he is attractive, the same way you know you are beautiful. But when he is friendly, when he speaks to you like a person and not someone he holds a childhood grudge against…

He's very handsome. And try as you might, you can’t exactly figure out what to do with this information. 

“Your end of the deal seems to be going rather well,” he says, and you shove your train of thought away. You are never picking that one back up. He eyes a small group of men farther down the green, who all seem to be looking at you with varying degrees of interest. You’re quite sure they aren’t looking at Mr. Choi, at least. “How many suitors have you gathered?”

“A few,” you say, allowing yourself a wry smile. Lord Kim called the morning after the Smythe-Smith musicale, and for once your stepmother didn’t yell at you at all for the rest of the day. There were a couple others, too—Mr. Winslow seemed very kind, and though you don’t think much of Lord Fife, he at least made you laugh a little. “I suppose your plan did have some merit.”

“Of course it did. I’m a genius.” He smirks, his expression so self-congratulating as he raises his glass to you in mock cheer that you abandon all notions of Mr. Choi being handsome. You want to pinch him. Hard. 

“Don’t inflate your head too much,” you snipe, taking a sip of your own drink. “It doesn’t become you.”

He snickers again and for some reason, you feel your annoyance grow. You force it down. You were having a good time, you remind yourself. Mr. Choi was being almost bearable—actually bearable, even, if you’re being nice. You just need to change the subject back to something safe that won’t have you at his throat in seconds, or maybe maneuver yourselves to talk to other people—

“Did you not buy gloves?”

You blink. “What?”

“The other week, when I called. You mentioned you had gone to town to buy gloves.” Mr. Choi looks down at your hands, then back at you blankly, completely oblivious to the way your heart has stopped beating. “Did you not find any? Forgive me if I am wrong, but you seem to be wearing the same pair as always.”

If your heart wasn’t beating a second ago, it is now beating fast enough that you almost can’t breathe. You look down at your gloves. You always wear them—you need them to hide the calluses and cracks that come with your housework at home—but no one has remarked on them before. They’re plain, white, and customary. You’ve always kept them clean and mended them to perfection and you haven’t had to spend your family’s meager funds on a second pair in years. 

Why did you use that as your excuse to Mr. Choi? Why did he have to remember that? And why, just why did he even have to notice?

“I didn’t find anything that day,” you say haltingly. “And I haven’t had much time to go out since.” Your voice grows slightly sharp, and you can’t seem to rein it back in. “I spilled some lemonade on them earlier. I apologize if that upset you.”

A beat of silence follows. You bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from speaking and making things worse. 

“Damn,” Mr. Choi finally curses, breaking the silence. You blink, but his expression softens, looking almost contrite. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything. I spoke without thinking, Miss L/N.” He swallows, looking uncomfortable for the first time. You start to feel a little guilty for snapping at him. “I wanted to make conversation and so I spoke my thoughts without thinking. I apologize if I offended you.”

“It’s…quite all right,” you say, feeling just as awkward as he looks. “I must apologize for snapping at you. It was not so offensive a question, I was just not…prepared.”

Mr. Choi raises an eyebrow. “That might be the second time you’ve apologized to me, Miss L/N.”

You roll your eyes, but for all his mocking words, you can’t help but feel relieved that he let it all go so quickly. “As I’ve said before, don’t get used to it,” you snap. “And if I recall correctly, you apologized first.”

“So I did.” He smiles, looking almost friendly yet again, and it seems like he’s about to say something more before someone calls his name. 

“Beomgyu!”

The two of you turn to see a man and his wife walking up, his wife holding something in her arms. You don’t quite recognize them, though the wife looks very familiar. You stare at her a moment, trying to place her, but then Mr. Choi smiles widely and calls out the man’s name. “Yeonjun! I didn’t know you would come today.”

And then it hits you. This woman was the diamond of your first season who was acknowledged by the queen during her debut, and who went on to marry the Duke of Hastings, only the most eligible bachelor of the ton in years. You haven’t spoken much to her, but she is beautiful, and from what you have heard, she is also kind, gracious, and very intelligent. 

The Duke of Hastings also happens to be Mr. Choi’s first cousin, which explains why they seem so delighted to see each other here.

A sick feeling curdles in your stomach. What would such a brilliant woman think of you, sharp-witted and foul-mouthed, being courted by her cousin in law? Surely she has read Whistledown or seen snippets of it. Last season, there was a mention of you in every other week, and very few of them were focused on your positive aspects. 

The two of them approach you with bright smiles. You see that the duchess isn’t just carrying something—in fact, she’s carrying her baby, which explains the servant trailing behind her with a small pram. Though your palms remain sweaty with anxiety, something in you melts when you see the child, small and giggly and obviously very happy to be in their mother’s arms. 

“Well, we wanted to get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up inside for too long.” The duchess smiles and in that one expression, you can see her kindness. “The Harlowes always host some of the greatest parties, so I thought we could drop by.” She looks at you, obviously not recognizing you, but her kind smile doesn’t waver. “Might I ask your name? I���m not sure we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, I am Miss Y/N L/N.” You curtsy slightly, fixing a smile to your face. “My father is the Baronet L/N, I am not sure if you are acquainted with him.”

To your surprise, her smile doesn’t fade even the slightest upon hearing your name. In fact, she only laughs. “So you are the young lady Lord Choi was telling me about, the one who had such a terrible history with Beomgyu only for him to end up courting her.” She leans closer to you. “Between you and me, Miss L/N, whatever you did to him in the past, I’m sure he deserved it.”

Her words startle a laugh out of your chest, compounded only when Mr. Choi snaps “Hey!” with a deep pout. “I’m not that bad,” he mutters.

“Actually, you are,” the duke replies, smirking, which just sets you off again. 

The duchess, apparently taking pity on Mr. Choi—she might just be an angel—segues the conversation away from teasing him to your courtship, which is a much less welcome topic but also one that probably cannot be avoided. “How long has this been happening?” she asks, handing her baby off to the duke. “The way Soobin told me about it, you two had been at odds for…well, nearly forever.”

You’ve told the story so many times that it is almost second nature for the lies to slip off your tongue. Mr. Choi nods to emphasize some points, and chimes in to finish the story off on his own. You look at him after, just for a moment, to let your secret understanding pass between the two of you.

“Well, that sounds just like a love story for the books,” the duke says, smiling in surprise. “I honestly never though Beomgyu would get past his childhood grudge. It’s good to see that he’s matured.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you tease, which sets off another round of laughs from everyone but Mr. Choi, who narrows his eyes at you with his mouth still fixed into that deep pout. “I jest. But I will admit, it has been nice to see another side of Mr. Choi that I had not been privy to before.” It’s as much truth as it is a lie, so you don’t feel much guilt for saying it.

Mr. Choi, likely sensing that you are veering back into teasing territory, swiftly turns the conversation to the duchess’s baby. Apparently she is just a few months old and already the sweetest thing, but she was a bit small at birth. “Should she be outside like this?” Mr. Choi asks, stroking back a bit of flyaway hair on her head. The duke obligingly hands the child to his cousin, and as he carefully takes the baby, you are reminded of how he spoke to your little sister that day he called. He’s so gentle, so sweet and concerned—he almost seems like a different person altogether. 

“The doctor said it should be fine, and that it would do good for her to get some fresh air every so often,” the duchess says, gazing fondly at her child. It isn’t right, but you feel a little pang of envy—that she is so beautiful, that she can be so kind and have such a loving and doting husband as well as the sweetest child. She’s perfect in every way that you aren’t. “She seems to be enjoying it.”

“She certainly does,” you say softly, holding out a finger to her. She grabs it with her own little hands and you laugh when her big eyes find yours, wide with wonder and curiosity. “She’s lovely.”

“Would you like to hold her?” the duchess asks. 

You take her with reverent hands, feel her small body pressed against yours as she laughs and gurgles at you. She reminds you of Delia when she was small and you helped take care of her, rocking her to sleep before she napped, walking her around your small garden so she could see the flowers. “She’s lovely,” you whisper again, more to yourself than anyone else. 

When you look up, the duke and duchess are gazing at their child with undisguised fondness, but Mr. Choi seems to be looking at you with a strange expression. You frown at him slightly. “Mr. Choi? Is something wrong?”

He blinks. “No, nothing at all,” he says, that strange expression disappearing so fast you almost think you imagined it. You narrow your eyes, not trusting him completely, but then the baby gurgles again so adorably that you have to coo. 

The duke and duchess eventually leave, and then Mr. Choi leads you to the small stage to dance with you twice. You spend a few hours more at the party, just chatting and laughing, before your stepmother decides it is time to leave. 

When you go to bid goodbye to Mr. Choi, that same strange expression flashes across his face quickly before he bows and wishes you a good night. And for some reason, though so much happened during the day, you can’t help but wonder what that expression meant all the way home. 

. . . . .

Standing across the ballroom, watching you whisk your way across the dance floor with another man, Beomgyu comes to the unfortunate conclusion that you are likely actually a good person. This is a very unfortunate finding, as it only makes it more difficult for him to dislike you on principle as he always has.

But he can’t exactly ignore it anymore. The fact has been pushing him to stare it in the face for a while now, but after the Harlowes’ party, where you held the duchess’s child with such tenderness and care…

Quite frankly, Beomgyu has never seen you look so soft in your life. He caught a glimpse of it when he met Delia for the first time, but your tenderness to those you care for has never been more obvious than in that moment when you held the baby. Beomgyu automatically distrusts those who are rude to children—he would never say anyone has to like them, but they are young and inexperienced and never deserve outright cruelty. To those who are not only kind to children, but actively respectful and accommodating for each of their individual quirks and personalities…well, Beomgyu holds such people in quite a high regard. It usually means they have good hearts.

As Beomgyu is beginning to see in many of your interactions with others, you have a good heart indeed.

When he saw you holding his cousin’s baby, your face soft with wonder and tenderness, it struck him then that good people are very beautiful, no matter their looks. And unfortunately, since then, he hasn’t been able to see you the same way he did before—pretty, but unconvincing in your respectability. The more he observes you, though, the more grudging respect he gains for you.

It is true that you have acted abominably around him. But Beomgyu now must conceded that he has let that part of you blind him long enough that he never bothered to notice how you act around others, too. This leaves a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, though he has to acknowledge that he is at least as responsible for your mutual enmity as you are. 

It doesn’t mean he has plans to apologize just yet, though. 

The current piece ends, and Beomgyu watches you curtsy to your partner with a wide smile on your face. The man doesn’t seem to be one that he recognizes, and he frowns a little. Beomgyu knows almost every gentleman in the ton, simply by virtue of the season and attending school with them for many years. If he doesn’t know who this person is, he must be from out of town. 

It isn’t that rare for some foreign nobility to attend a season to find a partner in London, but Beomgyu feels certain that he would have heard of such a thing from Whistledown. Perhaps this man arrived in the week between issues. The next issue should tell him more about this person. 

No matter. You and Beomgyu agreed to dance a quadrille tonight and that so happens to be the next dance in this set. Foreign suitor or not, he should at least ask if you would like to take to the floor with him. He wouldn’t mind if you refused, as there will be other quadrilles, but he won’t break your agreement. 

You fairly seem to sparkle tonight. As Beomgyu comes closer, he almost stops at the sight of your bright smile directed right at this foreign lord. You’ve never looked so happy—or at least so enamored. Which, to be honest, Beomgyu doesn’t quite understand. Yes, this man is handsome, but what exactly else does he have?

Thankfully, he gets to you when it seems that you’ve reached a lull in your conversation. He catches your attention and to his surprise, your smile hardly fades when you notice him. “Miss L/N,” he greets, bowing slightly. 

“Mr. Choi.” You curtsy prettily, and that’s when Beomgyu realizes why your bright smile unsettled him—it looks completely genuine. With everyone else you’ve spoken to, your expression has been pretty but bland, pleasant but reserved in a way that isn’t quite yourself. Right now, though, speaking to this new person, you look completely at ease with yourself, and not in the way you are with Beomgyu, unafraid to bite back and toss insults in his face. 

No, with this foreign lord, you look completely yourself in your most charming form. And Beomgyu…

He almost feels jealous of it. 

“Allow me to introduce you to Lord Cho,” you say, breaking Beomgyu out of his rapidly devolving train of thought. “Lord Cho, meet Mr. Choi, second in line to the viscountcy of Kensington.”

“A pleasure.” Lord Cho inclines his head, that charming smile never once fading. Beomgyu has to force his own smile not to curdle as he greets the other lord in turn. 

“Lord Cho has just come from the continent to join the season,” you explain. “He hails from Prussia.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. Prussia is a great distance away, not one that most would brave simply to join the London season. He has enough propriety not to say that, of course, but he has to wonder why this Lord Cho could find no one in his home country to marry, with his good looks and charm. “My word, that is quite the journey,” he says neutrally. “I hope you did not find the travel too taxing.”

“Not at all.” Lord Cho smiles easily, which for some reason just puts Beomgyu more on edge. “I love to travel, and if in the end it was to meet Miss L/N, it was all worth it.”

Beomgyu almost gags. To your credit, you don’t look much impressed by his flirty quip, but you do smile somewhat wryly at him. “We have only just met, Lord Cho,” you say. “Do save your deepest compliments for those who deserve them.”

Lord Cho grins. “And do you not think you are deserving?”

That’s quite enough. Beomgyu fixes his attention on you before he does something stupid to Lord Cho, like roll his eyes. Or punch him in the face. “Miss L/N, the quadrille is about to begin,” he says. “I came to ask if you might want to dance.”

You glance at Lord Cho, but before Beomgyu can tell what you’re thinking, you’ve turned back to him and are putting your hand in his. “Of course,” you reply. “Thank you, Mr. Choi. Lord Cho, perhaps I will find you sometime later this evening.”

“I will count the dances until then,” he replies smoothly, and Beomgyu just refrains from rolling his eyes as he leads you onto the floor.

The music begins, and the two of you effortlessly take your starting positions. “How did you meet him?” Beomgyu mutters as you pass one another. 

“It seems he is good friends with Mr. Jung,” you reply. “Lord Cho is staying with him while he decides whether or not he wishes to stay long enough to let a house. He came with Mr. Jung to this ball.”

This makes sense, to Beomgyu. Wooyoung is a social butterfly. If anyone in town were to have foreign friends, it would be him. He spins you under his arm. “You seem to like him very much.”

A little smile involuntarily curves your lips. Beomgyu isn’t even sure you notice it, which annoys him more than it really should. “He’s very charming,” you say. “And he has already asked to call on me sometime this week.”

Well, at least he seems to be serious. Beomgyu wants to ask more questions, but the music is picking up as it nears the climax of the dance, so he forces himself to focus on the steps first as you dip and spin and whirl across the floor. There will be time to probe later. Beomgyu doesn’t wish to think ill of someone he hardly knows, but he has been accounted a fair judge of people’s personalities. If he dislikes Lord Cho, there might be a reason. 

Or it could just be that twinge of jealousy that he felt earlier. 

No. He turns you under his arm, catches your hand. For a moment, the two of you meet eyes. He can’t be jealous—you two have no relationship. He isn’t even really courting you. Sure, the animosity between you two might be fading ever so slightly, but you are still a ways from even being friends. Jealousy doesn’t make sense. This is just…concern. Normal concern that one would feel for any acquaintance who might possibly be in a worrisome situation. 

The music fades out, and as he bows to your curtsy, Beomgyu can already see Lord Cho glancing at you from one side of the ballroom with a group of what Beomgyu will assume to be his friends. Fortunately, the refreshments are on the other side of the room. “Shall we get a drink, Miss L/N?” he asks. “You must be parched after having danced so much this evening.”

You smile at him gratefully, and Beomgyu feels some absurd sense of pride that he’s the one who made you smile this way. “That would be most welcome,” you say, and so the two of you head to a table laid out with an array of glasses. 

Several things happen in rapid succession. 

One: Beomgyu picks up two glasses of lemonade and hands one to you. 

Two: You take the glass. 

Three: Someone’s elbow knocks into you from behind. 

Four: You crash right into Beomgyu, and the two of you fall to the floor in a twist of limbs and lemonade. 

Beomgyu blinks, drops of lemonade stinging his eyes slightly as he tries to take in what just happened. You’re on the floor and clearly took the worst of the fall—you may have knocked into him, but your cup shattered on the ground and little glass shards lie all around you, glinting in the candlelight. "Bloody hell,” he curses under his breath. Someone’s apologies sound vaguely against his ears but he can only hear your slight hiss of annoyance as you try to stand. “Miss L/N, come—you need to get out of the glass.” You cry out in pain when he tries to take your hand so he gingerly grips your fingers to help you up. “Come, I’ll help you to another room,” he says, glaring at those who have come to gawk at the scene. “Move, please,” he snaps at the crowd. 

Somehow the two of you make it to a small, empty room, where a servant rushes in with a little basin of water and a cloth. Beomgyu looks at you, unsure what to do. Your gloves are covered in sticky lemonade and part of the front of your dress is also soaked in it, but worst of all…

A line of red seems to have soaked through your gloves. You���re bleeding. 

“You’re bleeding,” he says as calmly as he can. “Miss L/N—”

“I know,” you snap, jerking your hands away from his, which doesn’t make sense because he’s the one who has the cloth to wipe the blood with. He doesn’t relent, though. “The glass must have scratched you,” he says, reaching for you again. “We need to clean it.”

You look at him. He looks at you. Then, almost as one, you look down at the blood seeping through your gloves. 

Through your gloves. Beomgyu blinks. There are no rips in the fabric, just stains from your blood and the lemonade. 

Which means the glass didn’t cut you, and the blood is coming from something else. 

“Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says slowly. “What happened to your hands?”

. . .

You stay silent for a moment. When you raise your head, a dull expression resides on your face. “Leave me, please, Mr. Choi,” you say, reaching with your unbloodied glove. “I can clean myself up. You need not be here.”

Beomgyu snatches back the cloth. “No,” he replies shortly. “How exactly do you plan to bandage your hand on your own? Do you even have anything to bind it with?”

“Just leave me!” you snap. “I will find some way on my own—”

“Would you just let me stay here and help you?” Beomgyu explodes. “I know you don’t like me, but I only want to help!”

Then he remembers that the door is still open. 

Dead silence falls. But though no one comes in and he hears no whispers outside, meaning their deal is probably still safe, he looks at you and you suddenly looked hunched in and—terrified. Beomgyu feels awful. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to yell, and I certainly didn’t mean to say that.”

You swallow hard. Beomgyu is reminded of the terrible night of that first ball, when Mr. Thompson tried to assault you and you went into something like shock. This time, though, you manage to speak. “It’s all right,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry, too. It’s not because I dislike you. It’s…” You turn away. 

Beomgyu reaches out. Takes the hand with the bloody glove gently. You flinch slightly and he almost lets go, but with seeming effort you force yourself to relax. You don’t pull away even as he begins to peel back the worn cotton layer to reveal your bare hands. 

A lady’s hand is meant to be smooth, soft. The hardest labor they might do with their hands is sew embroidery, or pen letters and documents every day. But your hands are rough, littered with small calluses and cuts left in tender skin. The pads of your fingers look pricked and raw while your palms seem slightly swollen. Beomgyu recognizes the cracks that come from the mixture of harsh wind and exposure to cold water. He got plenty of those when he used to play outside in the winter, but young ladies your age don’t play outside, especially not in this harsh winter season. These marks have no place on your hands. 

So where did they come from?

Without a word, Beomgyu dips the cloth into the basin and presses it against one of the cracks still oozing blood on your palm. Silence fills the room save for the sound of your breathing, the ripple of water in the basin as he wets the cloth again. 

“You’re not going to ask what happened?” you ask roughly. Normally, Beomgyu would bristle at your tone and the sarcasm littered through it, but in this moment he recognizes that this is your last defense in a moment of weakness. He doesn’t rise to the bait. 

“No,” he replies quietly. “Not unless you want to tell me. I will not pry.”

You stay silent for a moment more. Beomgyu continues cleaning off the blood and lemonade, acutely aware of your eyes warily searching his face for something. He doesn’t quite know if you find it, but as he’s dipping the cloth back into the basin, you take a breath. 

“On your honor,” you say, voice trembling, “what I am about to say does not leave this room.”

He nods. “On my honor, and that of my family, I swear it.” 

Something in your face seems to relax, though your shoulders remain tense. “I have no dowry.”

This is common knowledge. Beomgyu says nothing of it, though, and just waits. 

“My family is poor.” You state the words with a dull finality. “We may still have our house and estate, but we do not have a full array of servants.” You pause to take a deep breath and Beomgyu has a sinking feeling he knows what you will say next. 

“And so someone must help them with the chores they cannot summon the manpower to do.”

Beomgyu lets those words mill around his mind for a bit before he says anything. “And that person is you,” he states. 

Your lips curve in the semblance of a smile, though no mirth reaches your eyes. “How ever did you guess?” you ask, sarcasm in every word. 

Silence falls again. Beomgyu takes the time to sort through the revelations you’ve given him. Your family is far poorer than the ton even knows. There is not enough money to hire the number of servants needed to keep your estates in order. Which means you must help them with their work, resulting in these rough, callused hands. Beomgyu can see exactly where these cracks come from. Doing laundry in the cold air, icy water drying out your hands while the wind chaps them…

A sick feeling rises in his stomach. No wonder you wear gloves all the time. And no wonder you have worn the same pair for…however long. Probably longer than Beomgyu even knows. You likely don’t have the money to spare for a new one. 

“Does your stepmother know about this?” he asks quietly.

You snort. “Who do you think ordered me to begin with it?”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

“My stepmother hates me,” you snap. “I am a daughter, and not even one by her blood. If I wasn’t already known to society when she married my father I’m sure she would have dropped me off as a maid in someone else’s home and been done with me.” Your voice starts rising, but with visible effort, you rein yourself in. “Unfortunately, she is stuck with me, so I must earn my keep as a daughter who brings no monetary value to the household.” 

Beomgyu’s head is reeling. So he was right—you and your stepmother aren’t on good terms. But what he hadn’t realized was just how bad those terms were. Not only does your stepmother know about your servitude, she’s the one who started it. And Beomgyu doesn’t have to ask to know that your stepmother has likely never lifted a hand to help even when you started. 

He feels a little nauseous. Maybe you really do fear your stepmother, if your relationship is more of a master and servant than a mother and daughter. It sounds terrible, but the more you say, the more likely it becomes. 

No wonder you are so insistent on marrying before society takes you off the marriage shelf.

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because you jerk your hands away. “Don’t pity me,” you say dangerously, a snarl creeping into your words. Your eyes shine strangely and Beomgyu thinks you might be about to cry. “I am telling you now, Mr. Choi—don’t you dare give me any of your pity. I don’t want it. If that is what keeps you in here, you can leave right now.”

“I don’t pity you,” he replies quietly, reaching for your hand again. “I could never pity a person as strong as you.”

Tension hangs in the air, so thick it feels like a noose wrapping around his neck. Slowly, though, you extend your hand back to him, and the air relaxes slightly. “Does your father know?” he asks. 

“No. He is always on his nth business venture, trying to make money for the household so my brother will have something to inherit.” You shake your head. “His last letter was months ago. I have no idea where he is or if he’s even still alive. Anyway, my stepmother would never have me work whenever he was home, and he’d never believe me if I said anything anyway.”

Beomgyu sucks in a breath. Lets it out slowly, very slowly. “I see,” is all he ends up saying.

You watch in silence as he takes a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it around your hand, covering the cuts in the white cloth. It takes him a few tries but he finally manages to tie the ends in a knot. It looks a bit clumsy, but it is functional. “You’ll want to bandage that properly later,” he says. “Do you still want to return to the party?”

He sees the answer written on your face even before you reply. “No,” you whisper, and for the first time that evening—the first time ever—you look broken. It shatters something in Beomgyu’s chest. “No, I really don’t.” You swallow. “But my stepmother is still here and she won’t want to leave so soon…”

“I will send you home in mine,” he interrupts quietly. “I had planned to stay a few hours longer, anyway. If anyone asks, I will say that the mess was too great, and you went home to clean up and rest.” He holds out a hand. “Will that be all right?”

Relief crashes over your face as you nod. “Yes,” you say. “Thank you very much.”

The two of you slip out of the room. Beomgyu is thankful to see that no one seems to have been in the hallway. You alert a servant to the basin and cloth you left in there, and then Beomgyu manages lead you out of the mansion without anyone asking too many questions. You don’t speak until you’re in front of his family’s carriage and Beomgyu has given directions to the footman. He offers you a hand to help you inside and you take it, but you don’t step up yet.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you say quietly. “I must apologize for any rude behavior I displayed earlier. I am ever grateful for your help, and your understanding.” You swallow. “I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” he replies. “And there is nothing to forgive. You were forced to show me something you have kept secret for a long time, and understandably so—I cannot imagine anyone would have reacted gracefully in the face of that.” He looks at you, moonlight glittering solemnly in your eyes. “And, Miss L/N, I swear on my honor and those who came before me that what you told me tonight will never pass my lips to another. Not without your express permission.”

You look at him for a long moment, gaze unreadable. “Mr. Choi,” you finally say, “for all the faults I once perceived in you, your honor is the one thing that has never been in doubt to me.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[thewales-family]

The Prince of Wales takes part in a traditional fish brai lunch with Heidi Klum, Winnie Harlow, Billy Porter and Tobe Nwigwe as he visits Kalk Bay Harbour to highlight the contributions of 2023 Earthshot Finalist, Abalobi during the 'Earthshot Week', in Cape Town, South Africa -November 7th 2024.

📷 (1) : Andrew Parsons/Kensington Palace.

[obsessedwithlarkin]

CLUB DANCE @ JUMP PHOENIX:

CLUB DANCE X2 ( Strut & Pre-Co):

•Elodie Olson- Spanish Rose

• Kambria Merrill- Halleluiah

• Elodie Gardiner - Broadway Baby

• Charlotte Seals - Yellow

• Kendall Lovrant- My Boyfriend's Back

• Scarlett Bernard - Skinny Love

• Audrie Sing - Come Into My Arms

• Robert Lancester - If I Ain't Got You

• Brylin Drummond - Bluebirds

• Lucy Curtis - These Boots Are Made For Walking

• Finley Adcox- Landslide

• Aria Chaidez- That's My Boy

• Everly Goldsmith- Roxie

• Hannah Slater- Snowing

• Moon River - Mini Lyrical Line

• I Have A Dream - Mini Contemporary Group

• Don't Worry About Me - Mini Lyrical Group

• Good To Go - Mini Jazz Extended Line

• Ladies Room - Mini Jazz Extended Line

• Avery Palacios- Off With Their Heads

• Angels Standing By - Mini Lyrical Extended Line

• Can't Turn Me Loose - Mini Jazz Extended Line

• 9 to 5 - Mini MT Extended Line

• Ballroom Blitz - Mini Specialty Extended Line

• Dreams - Mini Lyrical Extended Line

• Rythm Nation - Teen Ballroom Extended Line

• What I Like About You - Teen Jazz Extended Line

• Distortion - Teen Jazz Extended Line

• Goodbye Forever - Teen Lyrical Extended Line

• Shine - Teen MT Line

• Empty Note - Teen Contemporary Line

• House Party - Teen Hip-Hop Production

• Rinse And Repeat - Teen Jazz Group

• Anything I Do - Teen Jazz Extended Line

• Wild - JUMPStart Specialty Extended Line

• Jet Set - JUMPStart MT Extended Line

• One Jump - JUMPStart MT Extended Line

• Walk The Dinosaur - Open Jazz Production

• Pink Cadillac- JUMPStart Jazz Extended Line

• Mambo N 5 - JUMPStart Jazz Extended Line

• Remember Me- JUMPStart Lyrical Line

• Baby I'm A Star - JUMPStart Jazz Extended Line

CLUB DANCE COMPANY:

• River Sergerman- Body Language

• Claire Pistor- Bad Dreams

• Sophia Schiano - Dynamite

• Emma Scott- Forsaken

• Kortlynn Rosenbaugh- Retrace

• Hannah Bozer- End Scene

• Alexis Alvarez- Light Bodied

• Zoe Laird - Yea

• Lily Knopps- I Dreamed A Dream

• Delaney Poulson - Once Upon Another Time

• Jolene Serna- Lipstick

• Presley Ortiz- Glamourous

• Kaia Erby- Something's Got A Hold On Me

• Bella Linman- Black Swan

• Kennedy Marble- Bitter Earth

• Harlow Hilmo- Let You Go

• Harper Schwalb - The Night

• Makayla Jackman- La Flor

• Hadlie Scott- Shallow Water

• Brooklyn Besch- A Dream Discarded

• Kendyl Miller- Compassion

• Kynzlie Plote- Reminisence

• Elsie Sandall- Love Forgotten

• Mali Photnetrakhom- Powershift

• Lucia Piedrahita- I Wish To Tell You

• Tatum Self- The Poet

• Mikayla Isler- How Come You Don't Call Me

• Isla Gardner- Waiting Game

• Sam Martineu - Ten Hearts

• Amaya Weeks- All I Am

• Julia Chavez - Where Memories Lie

• Chloe Slone - Pushing Past

• Cara Hart- Take My Love

• Kinley Palmer- Let Yourself Go

• Mariah Bland- Danny's Allstar Joint

• Cambrie O'Haver- Winter

• Finley Nielsen- Remember Me

• Jaxon Adamson- Workin' Day And Night

• Sleeping Beauty Waltz - Mini Ballet Line

• Nixie Vance- I Am A Woman

• Jailhouse Rock- Mini MT Extended Line

• Faye Cunnigham- Sweet Old Fashioned Girl

• These Boots - Mini Jazz Line

• Clear Blue Morning - Mini Lyrical Extended Line

• Emma Kleve - Walkin' After Midnight

• Ya Ya- Mini Jazz Group

• River Robbins- Wild And Reckless

• I Saw Him Standing There - Mini Jazz Extended Line

• Kinley Martz- Respect

• Navy Forrest- I Love You

• Bluebirds - Mini Contemporary Line

• Aspen Brandt- Black Velvet

• Send In The Clowns - Mini Lyrical Line

• Kensington Ferrin- Evil Gal Blues

• Stand By Me - Lyrical Line

• Be Italian - Mini MT Extended Line

• Save Me Not - Mini Contemporary Group

• Werk It - Mini Jazz Group

• Emersyn Varker- These Boots

• Eastyn Vose- Eternity

• Bryn Spears - Youth

• Fragments - Teen Ballet Line

• Somebody That I Used To Know - Teen Tap Extended Line

• Petrichor - Teen Contemporary Extended Line

• Maneater - Senior Jazz Extended Line

• Breathe - Teen Specialty Line

• Fragile Humanity - Senior Contemporary Group

• The Chain - Teen Jazz Group

• Pump Up The Jam - Teen Jazz Extended Line

• Who Lights The Sun - Teen Contemporary Line

• Torn - Teen Lyrical Line

• Life In Plastic - Teen MT Production

• Grand March - Junior Ballet Line

• Dolls - JUMPStart Ballet Extended Line

• Microphone - JUMPStart Jazz Extended Line

• Pon De Replay - Junior Specialty Line

• Footloose - JUMPStart Tap Extended Line

• Another Day Of Sun - Junior Tap Extended Line

• I Will Always Love You- JUMPStart Lyrical Line

• Chasing Cars - Junior Lyrical Line

• You Raise Me Up - JUMPStart Lyrical Extended Line

• The Masks We Wear - Junior Contemporary Line

• On The Beach - JUMPStart MT Extended Line

• Before We Were Yours - Junior Contemporary Extended Line

• Songbird - JUMPStart Contemporary Group

• Memories Fade - Junior Lyrical Extended Line

• Hot, Hot, Hot - JUMPStart Ballroom Production

• Sway - Junior Jazz Group

• Love, Love, Love - JUMPStart MT Group

• Human Rights - Junior Contemporary Group

• Motown - Junior Ballroom Production

• Hit Me With Your Best Shot - JUMPStart Jazz Line

• Black Cat - Junior Jazz Extended Line

• Pitbulls - JUMPStart Hip-Hop Production

• My Dogg - Junior Hip-Hop Production

[arquivosmagnusbr]

MAG069 — Pensamento do Dia

Caso #0101811: Depoimento de Darren Harlow a respeito de um experimento psicológico que fracassou na Universidade de Surrey.

Ouvir em: Spotify | Youtube

Aviso de conteúdo: insetos, aranhas, automutilação, horror corporal, gore

Tradução: Lia

MARTIN

Aqui está. A Sasha veio hoje?

ARQUIVISTA

Ah, ela tirou o dia de folga. Disse que passaria o dia com aquele tal de Tom.

Martin: Ah. Eles vão fazer alguma coisa legal?

Arquivista: Ela não disse.

Martin: Você já conheceu ele?

Arquivista: Como eu teria conhecido? Nós não fazemos sociais. Ele parece ser legal, eu acho. No estilo de Kensington. Você já o conheceu?

Martin: Não, mas ela é muito reservada com essas coisas. Diferente do Tim.

Arquivista: Hum.

Martin: Só conversa com ele, por favor.

Arquivista: Acho que já falamos mais do que o suficiente. Duvido que mais conversas ajudariam em algo.

Martin: Não tem como vocês trabalharem juntos desse jeito.

Arquivista: Ironicamente, acho que trabalhar é tudo que eu e o Tim conseguimos fazer juntos.

Martin: Olha. John. Quando foi a última vez que nós conversamos? Só conversamos, sem todas essas...

Arquivista: Obrigado pelo chá, Martin.

Martin: Ok. Tá bom. Ele não tá errado, sabe?

Arquivista: Eu sei.

Depoimento de Darren Harlow...

Depoimento de Darren Harlow a respeito de um experimento psicológico que fracassou na Universidade de Surrey. Depoimento original prestado em 18 de novembro de 2010. Gravação de áudio por Jonathan Sims, arquivista chefe do Instituto Magnus, Londres.

Início do depoimento.

ARQUIVISTA (DEPOIMENTO)

As coisas sempre parecem tão óbvias pensando agora. Aquele experimento sempre foi uma péssima ideia. Mesmo naquela época, lembro de pensar que parecia ter saído de um filme de terror. Quer dizer, toda vez que eu ficava sabendo de um novo detalhe sobre ele, eu ia pra casa e contava à minha esposa e nós ficávamos especulando durante o jantar sobre como aquilo ia dar errado de algum jeito grotesco e horrível. Nós ríamos e analisávamos as maneiras pelas quais aquilo poderia transformar aqueles pobres estudantes de graduação em assassinos loucos ou monstros mutantes.

E quando comecei a ver mais e mais aranhas pelo laboratório, transformei aquela sensação real de desconforto em... um tipo divertido de medo, como se eu estivesse só brincando de ficar assustado. É tão estranho — mesmo quando você realmente tá procurando pelo terror, é impossível acreditar de verdade nele. Sempre parece ser algo que você inventou, só se divertindo um pouco assustando a si mesmo. Porque essas coisas não acontecem. Não no mundo real.

Mas... às vezes, você pensa sobre o que é o mundo real. Só o que o seu cérebro mistura a partir do que os seus sentidos te dizem. Nós criamos o mundo de muitas maneiras. Acho que não deveria ser surpresa que, quando não tomamos cuidado, podemos mudá-lo.

Antes de fazer perguntas aprofundadas sobre as metodologias ou a estrutura do experimento, preciso deixar uma coisa clara: eu sou só um dos faxineiros. Eu não faço ideia de como ou por que eles começaram isso ou — só Deus sabe — de onde veio o financiamento. Acho difícil acreditar que o Departamento de Psicologia autorizou, mas não sou um acadêmico, e essas decisões estão muito acima de mim.

Eu cuido principalmente dos laboratórios de ciências. A maioria das equipes de limpeza da universidade se desloca muito, trabalhando em diferentes prédios ou departamentos de um mês pra outro, mas tem muitas coisas nos laboratórios que exigem treinamento adicional pra limpar com segurança, então somos um pouco mais especializados do que o resto do pessoal. Quer dizer, eles ainda não nos deixaram chegar nem perto dos equipamentos realmente caros; quem tomava conta dessas coisas eram os técnicos do laboratório, mas a questão é que sou um rosto muito mais familiar nos departamentos de ciências do que os outros faxineiros.

Tem também o fato de que o pessoal do curso de ciências até conversava comigo às vezes. Não quero dizer que é porque eu sou branco e o resto da equipe de limpeza não é, mas eles sempre falavam comigo de um jeito que não falavam com os outros, então me tornei o ponto de contato entre os faxineiros e o resto da equipe. Resumindo, eu geralmente sabia mais ou menos o que tava rolando com a maioria dos experimentos que eram realizados por lá.

Então, quando a Dra. Elizabeth Bates me contou sobre o estudo mais recente dos seus alunos da pós-graduação em psicologia, pensei que ela tava me zoando. O Departamento de Psicologia é geralmente um dos menos exigentes, pelo meu ponto de vista, porque é quase inteiramente composto por pessoas que ficam sentadas na frente de computadores ou em salas de entrevista. Uma vez ou outra, acho que eles usaram uma máquina de ressonância magnética em algum hospital, mas isso era mais na área da neurociência e, mais importante, não acontecia nos prédios que eu limpava.

Desde que estou lá, o que já faz uns bons sete anos, eles nunca chegaram perto da parapsicologia — nada que fosse remotamente menos respeitável como pesquisa — então, quando a Liz me explicou o experimento e eu percebi que eles estavam basicamente fazendo pesquisas sobre PES, fiquei um pouco animado. Quer dizer, ela disfarçou com todo tipo de jargão científico e me deixou tonto de tanto falar, mas ainda assim se resumia basicamente a ver se os pensamentos e sentimentos de um grupo de pessoas em uma sala tinham algum efeito sobre a experiência de um sujeito em uma sala separada e isolada. O que eu quero dizer é que ela pode até falar em "dinâmica de grupo" e chamar aquilo de "intuição de proximidade" ou o que quer que ela tenha dito, mas eu reconheço uma pesquisa de PES quando tô esfregando o chão dela.

Não que eu me ligasse, claro — eu amo esse tipo de porcaria. Eu sou louco por terror, mas geralmente prefiro mais o lado da ficção científica. Demônios e fantasmas nunca me pegaram de verdade, mas me dê alienígenas ou os poderes sinistros da mente humana e eu tô dentro.

Eu não falei nada disso pra Liz, é claro — tinha a impressão de que era um assunto delicado, e não tenho motivo pra irritar as pessoas com quem eu trabalho. Mas você pode ter certeza de que eu tava bem mais de olho nesse experimento do que nos outros. Principalmente quando ela me contou um pouco mais sobre como eles estavam realizando ele.

A premissa básica era bem semelhante à maioria desses estudos. Tinha uma sala com um espelho unidirecional onde o sujeito ficava sentado e conectado em fios para que medissem suas respostas físicas. Do outro lado do vidro ficavam entre um e vinte participantes que receberiam estímulos para obterem uma determinada resposta ou sentimento. Esses sentimentos eram incitados enquanto a atenção deles continuaria voltada pro sujeito do outro lado do vidro.

Aí eles simplesmente mediam qual resposta — se é que houvesse alguma — o sujeito tinha a algo que não podia ver, ouvir ou perceber de qualquer outra forma. Às vezes, o sujeito era informado de que havia pessoas do outro lado do vidro quando na verdade não tinha, pra formar um grupo de controle e eliminar qualquer resposta placebo. O nome da sujeita era Annabelle Cane.

Mas o que realmente me pegou foi o que a Liz me contou sobre a natureza específica dos sentimentos que eles estavam tentando projetar. Eles estavam planejando trabalhar com o medo. Especificamente, eles selecionaram um grupo de pessoas que se identificavam como aracnofóbicas para serem os projetores e, em certos momentos enquanto observavam Annabelle, vídeos de aranhas rastejando, comendo e se reproduzindo eram projetados aleatoriamente sobre o vidro, incitando uma resposta aguda de medo.

O raciocínio era que o medo era uma emoção extremamente poderosa e que seria muito fácil de distinguir nas respostas de Annabelle. Eles queriam ver se conseguiam usar a percepção extrassensorial para assustá-la.

Eu disse que parecia ter saído de um filme de terror, né? Não sei como eles não perceberam isso. Quer dizer, talvez tenham percebido. Talvez tenham seguido em frente pelo mesmo motivo que eu brincava com a Laura sobre isso, em vez de pedir uma transferência. Você começa a apreciar a macabreza da situação porque no fundo sabe que é seguro. O pior que poderia acontecer seria alguns alunos ficarem chateados. Devia ter sido só uma fantasia passageira.

Enfim, eu não posso falar muito sobre o que aconteceu durante a maior parte do estudo. Por motivos óbvios, eu não tava limpando as salas em questão enquanto eles estavam fazendo os testes, mas fiquei sabendo de algumas coisas pela Liz e alguns dos outros pesquisadores. Parecia estar indo bem no começo. Annabelle mostrava alguns sinais sutis, mas estatisticamente significativos, de angústia e desconforto enquanto as aranhas eram mostradas. Sinais que ficavam visivelmente ausentes durante os períodos de controle.

Eu sei que as reações de medo eram certamente sérias o suficiente para os pobres coitados que, sem querer, se inscreveram como projetores: eu tive que limpar a sala quando um deles vomitou durante a primeira rodada de testes. Ele teve que abandonar o experimento, se me lembro bem. Sortudo.

Tenho certeza de que você consegue adivinhar o que eu acabei limpando mais e mais ao longo do estudo. Teias de aranha. Quer dizer, não dá pra evitar elas em prédios com tetos altos e cantos convidativos, mas mesmo assim, apareciam mais e mais delas a cada dia. Eu varria ou aspirava elas à noite só pra encontrá-las de volta na manhã seguinte, mais espessas do que nunca.

Eu nunca consegui ver direito as aranhas responsáveis por elas. Ao contrário da maioria das que eu já tinha visto, que ficam sentadas, gordas e orgulhosas, no centro de suas teias, o máximo que eu via dessas era um rápido movimento de pernas escuras desaparecendo em um buraco no reboco ou atrás de uma instalação na parede.

Isso me assustava bastante, mas eu achava que era de um jeito bom. Eu sabia que, logicamente, elas estavam só fugindo do inverno. Quer dizer, você sabe como tem estado frio nas últimas semanas. Eu tentava assustar a Liz dizendo a ela como seus experimentos sombrios estavam invocando um exército de aranhas. Eu não fazia ideia...

Os testes estavam progredindo, e eles começaram a introduzir vários projetores ao mesmo tempo pra ver como isso afetava a intensidade dos sentimentos que Annabelle estava recebendo. A Liz ficou muito animada com os resultados. Ainda lembro da cara dela quando me contou que a Annabelle aparentemente tinha relatado ter vários sonhos perturbadores com aranhas.

Notavelmente, em nenhum momento do experimento ela foi informada de que estavam usando aranhas. A Liz tava animada, me contando como os sonhos pareciam mapear muito bem as respostas fisiológicas que eles estavam registrando; como a Annabelle tinha sonhado com "perninhas pequenas correndo por suas veias como se fosse uma teia".

Mas foi aí que eles começaram a ter problemas. Embora adicionar mais projetores tenha aumentado inicialmente a intensidade das respostas, parece que isso diminuiu bem rápido, e logo as medições mudaram significativamente. Eles ainda estavam obtendo respostas notáveis, mas não eram como as que haviam recebido antes. Elas não pareciam ser de medo.

Liz ficou irritada com isso. Mesmo que os resultados ainda parecessem bons para um estudo geral de PES, a variação no tom das resposta aparentemente confundiria a pesquisa de um jeito que ela não gostava.

Eu só vi Annabelle Cane uma vez durante esse período. Ela não era difícil de identificar. Ela se vestia como se uma loja de roupas vintage tivesse explodido em cima dela, e seu cabelo curto e loiro descolorido contrastava fortemente com sua pele escura. Na primeira vez que a vi, eu gostei dela. Ela parecia ser o tipo de aluna que ocasionalmente falava com os faxineiros como se nós fôssemos pessoas. Não que tenhamos realmente conversado, mas ela tinha essa energia.

Nessa outra vez, porém, foi bem quando ela tava saindo da sala do espelho. Ela estava andando de um jeito estranho, como se suas calças não lhe servissem direito. Ela ficava dobrando os joelhos em ângulos meio esquisitos, andando com uma postura rígida. Seu braço estava estendido e ela deslizava a mão pela parede enquanto caminhava, movendo os dedos rapidamente para que corressem como... bom, como uma aranha com pernas faltando.

Mesmo assim, eu nem comecei a considerar o que poderia estar acontecendo. Não... eu só comecei a levar a sério depois do que aconteceu na última quinta-feira. Eu tava no turno da noite e tinha acabado de terminar de varrer os laboratórios. Tinha começado a passar pano nos corredores que levavam até as salas que a Liz estava usando quando notei que as luzes ainda estavam acesas. Ela tinha mencionado que naquela tarde eles estavam tentando as primeiras sessões com todos os dezenove projetores restantes — eles tinham tido um número previsivelmente grande de desistências.

Eu sei que quanto mais pessoas estiverem envolvidas em um teste, mais tempo ele tende a levar e tem mais chances de atrasar, então podia muito bem ter ultrapassado o horário, mas eram nove e meia da noite naquele momento, então parecia muito improvável que tivesse durado tanto tempo. Pensei que talvez tivessem deixado as luzes acesas por acidente. Essas coisas acontecem. Me esforcei pra esquecer que as luzes naquelas salas eram normalmente ativadas pelo movimento.

Espero um dia esquecer o que eu vi quando abri aquela porta, mas não vou. Todos os aracnofóbicos, os "projetores" da Liz, estavam de pé em dois círculos, um dentro do outro. Suas mãos e braços estavam entrelaçados em um padrão complexo, e eles andavam em círculos, girando lentamente, mas de forma constante.

A Liz não tava lá, mas no canto pude ver um de seus alunos da pós-graduação — acho que o nome dele era Mark — parado ali, encarando aquilo como se estivesse em algum tipo de transe. Quer dizer, todos pareciam estar em um transe.

Do outro lado do vidro, pude ver Annabelle Cane parada ali, olhando pra eles. Seu corpo estava curvado e contorcido de um jeito que definitivamente não era natural, e eu realmente queria que fosse um truque da luz, mas por um segundo pareceu que ela tinha mais de dois olhos.

Quase no mesmo instante em que abri a porta, o movimento do círculo parou abruptamente e suas cabeças se viraram para me encarar todas de uma vez. Fiquei paralisado de pânico. Eles soltaram os braços e por um momento eu tive certeza de que iam me atacar, mas em vez disso se viraram para a janela, em direção a Annabelle, e caminharam até ela, se alinhando bem na frente do vidro.

Com um movimento repentino e brusco, eles inclinaram as cabeças para trás e depois bateram contra a janela espelhada, a quebrando inteira de uma só vez. Eu queria correr, mas não conseguia fazer meu corpo se mexer. Eu só fiquei parado ali, assistindo o sangue escorrer dos cortes nas testas deles enquanto a Annabelle começava a subir pela janela quebrada, seus membros se movendo e se estendendo, lenta e deliberadamente. Os outros não moveram um músculo enquanto ela rastejava sobre eles e depois sobre o chão em minha direção.

Quando ela estava a mais ou menos 30 centímetros de mim, ela se endireitou até sua altura total. Não sei exatamente qual era a altura dela antes, mas agora ela se erguia quase trinta centímetros acima de mim. Os olhos dela se fixaram nos meus e eu comecei a sentir algo. Era como se centenas de perninhas pequenas estivessem correndo dentro do meu crânio, se movendo e se agitando pela minha mente.

Senti minhas mãos, que estavam soltas ao lado do meu corpo, começarem a se levantar. Elas agarraram minhas pernas e aí, aparentemente por vontade própria, começaram a rastejar pra cima de mim, subindo lentamente sobre meu estômago, meu peito, meus ombros, até que, finalmente, pousaram em minha garganta. Eu nunca fui um homem forte, mas isso não parecia importar quando meus próprios dedos começaram a se fechar em volta do meu pescoço.

O pânico estava me fazendo respirar rápido e superficialmente, mas em segundos eu não conseguia mais fazer nem isso. Não sei se você já foi estrangulado, mas demora muito mais do que você imagina. Não faço ideia de quanto tempo demorou pras bordas da minha visão começarem a escurecer, mas pareceu ser uma eternidade.

Aí, com o canto do olho, vi Mark, o pesquisador, se mover. Não sei como ele quebrou o feitiço que Annabelle tinha lançado sobre ele, mas aparentemente ele conseguiu. Com um movimento repentino e inesperado, ele a atacou e jogou todo seu peso em cima dela.

O ataque a pegou completamente desprevenida e ela caiu com for��a contra a borda da janela quebrada, a lateral de sua cabeça fazendo um barulho horrível de esmagamento ao bater. De repente, os outros desabaram no chão, como se suas cordas tivessem sido cortadas. Minhas mãos também caíram e eu respirei fundo, longa e dolorosamente.

Eu desabei e levei alguns momentos tentando me recompor. Mark já tava com o celular na mão tentando chamar a polícia. Eu tava grogue e parecia que alguém tinha lixado meu cérebro, mas consegui me levantar. Olhei para o corpo amassado de Annabelle Cane exatamente quando ela começou a se levantar. Dava pra ver que o lado do crânio dela tinha sido esmagado, e por baixo da bagunça de sangue e ossos, vi uma massa de teias de aranha opacas e brancas.

Eu corri. Não me orgulho disso. Saí correndo daquele prédio, voltei pro meu carro e simplesmente fui embora. Dirigi por quase uma hora antes de finalmente parar em uma estrada lateral e começar a chorar. Nunca mais vi nenhum deles.

A administração da Universidade entrou em contato comigo antes da polícia. Eles me disseram, de maneira bem clara, que se eu valorizasse meu emprego eu oficialmente não tinha estado no prédio naquela noite. Eu nem sei o que teria dito à polícia de qualquer forma, e eu precisava daquele trabalho, então, quando fui questionado, disse que estava em casa, doente com uma virose. Acho que o fato de eu estar com uma cara horrível ajudou a convencê-los, e usei uma camisa de gola alta quando prestei meu depoimento.

A versão oficial foi que Annabelle tinha sofrido um surto psicótico e quebrado a janela, ferindo várias pessoas com os cacos de vidro antes de espancar Mark quase até a morte e fugir do prédio. As outras pessoas naquela sala parecem não se lembrar de nada, e eu não sei se o Mark mencionou meu nome no testemunho dele. Ele e Liz ainda não retornaram à Universidade e eu não fiz nenhum esforço para entrar em contato com eles.

Até onde eu sei, Annabelle Cane ainda tá por aí. Mas eu tô mantendo distância de qualquer coisa remotamente relacionada a aranhas. De algum jeito, eu consegui sobreviver a um filme de terror. Não tenho a menor intenção de procurar outro.

ARQUIVISTA

Fim do depoimento.

Mais aranhas. O testemunho do Sr. Harlow pelo menos teve a decência de ser bastante corroborado. A história da estudante de psicologia que enlouqueceu durante um estudo de PES ainda é bastante discutida em certos setores da Universidade de Surrey, e tem vários artigos de jornal que cobrem os eventos detalhadamente, embora nenhum deles mencione o... ponto de vista aracnídeo, nem mesmo o envolvimento do Sr. Harlow.

Tanto Mark Voight quanto a Dra. Elizabeth Bates deixaram a Universidade quase imediatamente depois do incidente, sob circunstâncias um tanto vagas. A Dra. Bates recusou categoricamente nosso pedido de entrevista, e o Martin me informou que o depoimento do Sr. Voight foi desconexo e quase incompreensível. Aparentemente, biologicamente falando, o relato dele sobre as aranhas não faz sentido nenhum, de acordo com o Martin. Além disso, aparentemente, ele chorou muito. Porém, ele pelo menos confirmou a presença do Sr. Harlow no evento, e o resto da conversa foi uma confusão de divagações sobre pernas e correrias.

Apesar dos problemas recentes, Tim se saiu bem nessa. Os relatórios policiais confirmam a história oficial de uma aluna que sofreu um episódio violento e atacou outras pessoas envolvidas em um estudo de pesquisa. O fato foi atribuído a um ataque psicótico, embora os pais de Annabelle Cane tenham afirmado repetidamente que ela não tinha histórico de doenças mentais ou violência. Realmente, é raro ver um uso tão descarado da imagem de um lunático espumando pela boca fora das páginas de uma ficção sensacionalista. Eu não acho que ela tenha enlouquecido.

Annabelle Cane nunca foi presa e parece ter desaparecido, ao que tudo indica. O que é igualmente — se não mais — preocupante, é que nos anos desde esse depoimento, todos os outros participantes desse estudo, os chamados "projetores" da Dra. Bates, também desapareceram. Não consigo deixar de imaginar quantas teias de aranha podem ser encontradas em suas antigas casas.

Fim da gravação.

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ARQUIVISTA

Complemento.

Eu, uh... eu não voltei pros túneis. Eu acho que tô... vou falar a real, eu tô com medo. Principalmente depois da exploração abortada da semana passada.

E, ainda assim, todas as outras pistas parecem ter esgotado ou me levado a mais perguntas sem resolver nada, e a não ser que eu confronte Elias com o que descobri ou espere na improvável esperança de receber mais fitas da Basira, tô lutando pra encontrar qualquer plano que não me leve para aqueles túneis. Descer lá pra encontrar algo que deixou bem claro que não quer ser encontrado.

Eu deveria pedir ajuda pros outros, mas eu... Não posso. Na melhor das hipóteses, eles só tentariam me convencer a não fazer isso. Na pior das hipóteses... Não, eu... se eu vou descer lá, eu vou sozinho.

Eu deveria só deixar isso pra lá. Eles estão certos. Mas não posso não saber.

Fim do complemento.

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[alldancersaretalented]

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[nameofallteams]

Unleash Your Creativity: 255 Cool Last Names for Unforgettable Characters

When creating unforgettable characters, one of the most crucial elements is their name specifically, their last name. A distinctive last name can make a character stand out, hint at their heritage, or even suggest their personality traits. Whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or crafting characters for role-playing games, the right last name will leave a lasting impression on readers or viewers. Here’s a collection of 255 cool last names designed to inspire unforgettable characters. Strong and Powerful Last Names These last names are perfect for characters who exude strength, leadership, or authority. They work well for protagonists, military figures, or leaders. - Armstrong - Barron - Blackwood - Stone - Knight - Steele - Thorpe - Cross - Wolfe - Falconer - Stryker - Griffin - Hawke - Powers - Drake - Hunter - McKnight - Ravenwood - Sterling - Valor Mysterious and Enigmatic Last Names For characters that have a sense of mystery, darkness, or intrigue, these last names will add to their enigmatic nature. - Ashford - Darke - Moon - Sinclaire - Thorn - Graves - Winters - Crowley - Nightshade - Holloway - Blackwell - Vesper - Shade - Whitlock - Sable - Forsythe - Blackthorne - Ravencrest - Mortimer - Duskwood Artistic and Creative Last Names Perfect for artists, musicians, and free spirits, these last names reflect creativity and a unique worldview. - Monet - Lennox - Harlow - Calloway - Van Gogh - Pembrook - Wilde - Hartman - Marlowe - Blake - Delacroix - Lumis - Sorensen - St. James - Da Vinci - Bronte - Escher - Claremont - Tempest - Vermeer Noble and Royal Last Names These last names are ideal for characters with noble blood or a regal background. They hint at history, tradition, and sometimes arrogance. - Kingsley - Beaumont - Fitzroy - Sinclair - Lancaster - Montgomery - Hastings - Devereux - Balfour - Winchester - Pembroke - Sterling - Ashcroft - Worthington - Huntington - Blackwood - Tremayne - Hawthorne - Lennox - Fairfax Adventurous and Brave Last Names For characters who seek thrills, adventure, and exploration, these last names carry a sense of movement, freedom, and bravery. - Everest - Rook - Storm - Trekker - Wilder - Blaze - Ridge - Canyon - Drake - Steele - Thorne - Quest - Hawke - Finn - Archer - Ranger - Colt - Skye - Rivers - Maverick Sci-Fi and Futuristic Last Names For science fiction settings, futuristic worlds, and high-tech narratives, these last names feel modern, tech-savvy, and innovative. - Solaris - Zenith - Nova - Cipher - Matrix - Orion - Harker - Nexus - Parallax - Steele - Quantum - Nyx - Kryos - Onyx - Vega - Volt - Polaris - Astro - Nebula - Plex Quirky and Unusual Last Names Sometimes a quirky or unique last name can make a character more memorable and endearing. These last names stand out for their oddity or playful nature. - Quibble - Bumble - Pickle - Fizz - Tink - Snickers - Wiggles - Flop - Wobble - Noodle - Jinx - Puddle - Pippin - Fuddle - Zigzag - Boggle - Snaggle - Waffle - Sprocket - Doodle Dark and Gothic Last Names These names work perfectly for characters in gothic or horror settings. They bring to mind a sense of darkness, the macabre, or a tragic past. - Blackwood - Hallow - Graves - Thorn - Darkmore - Bloodworth - Vex - Reaper - Crowley - Omen - Raven - Nightshade - Grim - Sable - Shade - Vale - Wick - Draven - Hemlock - Umbra Historical and Classical Last Names These last names evoke the grandeur of the past. They’re great for historical fiction, classic literature, or period pieces. - Bancroft - Chesterfield - Davenport - Fitzpatrick - Hargrove - Wellington - Kensington - Templeton - Cavendish - Fairfax - Alcott - Radcliffe - Wentworth - Ravenscroft - Gainsborough - Winterbourne - Highfield - Carrington - Delacroix - Sterling Nature-Inspired Last Names For characters connected to nature, whether they be gentle spirits, hunters, or survivalists, these names reflect the beauty and power of the natural world. - Wood - Meadows - Rivers - Stone - Forrest - Brooks - Thorn - Clover - Birch - Heath - Sage - Oak - Ash - Pine - Lake - Reed - Willow - Hawthorne - Moss - Glenn How to Choose the Right Last Name for Your Character? When selecting a last name for your character, consider the following factors to ensure it fits seamlessly with their personality, background, and story arc. - Ethnicity and Culture: A character’s heritage can significantly influence their last name. Research the origin of last names to find one that fits the character's background. - Character Traits: Think about your character's defining characteristics. A strong last name might work well for a tough, determined character, while a softer, more lyrical last name might suit a gentler personality. - Time Period and Setting: The era and world your character lives in should influence their last name. A futuristic character will likely have a very different name than a character from a Victorian novel. - Sound and Rhythm: The way a name sounds can have a powerful effect on how the character is perceived. Strong consonants like “R” or “K” can convey strength, while soft vowels can make the name feel more approachable or mysterious. - Memorability: A cool last name should be easy to remember but unique enough to stand out. This helps make your character more memorable to readers. - Symbolism: Last names can carry symbolic weight. For example, a name like "Knight" could symbolize honor or chivalry, while "Graves" could hint at death or tragedy. Choose names that enhance your character's deeper narrative. By selecting the perfect last name, you can add depth, authenticity, and memorability to your characters. Whether your character is bold and adventurous, dark and mysterious, or quirky and creative, this list of 255 last names will inspire you to craft unforgettable characters that linger in the minds of your audience long after they’ve turned the final page. Read Also Read the full article

[new-sacramento-ca]

Kensington Park Apartments in Sacramento, CA

Are you searching for one bedroom apartments in Arden Arcade nowadays? If that is the case, then you start by checking out the website of Kensington Park Apartments. Their website is informative, well-designed and user-friendly. In that case, it would be easier for you to navigate the important pages. Basically, the said apartment units have landscaped views and vaulted ceilings. Besides, each spacious Kensington Park Apartments home is thoughtfully designed with your comfort in mind. If you’re curious about the design, check out the Gallery page on their website. Lastly, the community of Kensington Park is ideally located in Arden Arcade, putting you at the center of one of Sacramento’s major shopping areas.

Sacramento, CA

To create a travel schedule, you should try different approaches. If you’re making one now, you can check out these Eventbrite posts. Most of these activities are perfect for first-time visitors. First, there will be Shannon McCabe's 15th Annual Vampire Ball at Harlow's in Sacramento this coming Saturday, October 28, 2023, at around 8:00 PM at Harlow's Restaurant & Nightclub. Second, the Sacramento Halloween Party - Haunted Monster Hotel is scheduled on Saturday, October 28, 2023, at around 9:00 PM at Sheraton Grande Sacramento Hotel. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) this coming Monday, October 30, 2023, at around 7:00 PM at Crest Theatre.

California Automobile Museum

Have you been to the California Automobile Museum in Sacramento, CA recently? First and foremost, the California Automobile Museum is an automobile museum located in Sacramento, California. Those who love cars will surely be delighted in the said place. Aside from that, it has a collection of more than 150 classic cars, race cars, muscle cars and early models displayed throughout 72,000 square feet of museum space. Moreover, the mission of the California Automobile Museum is to preserve, exhibit, and teach the story of the automobile and its influence on our lives. In other words, you’ll learn new things if you visit the museum.

Sacramento woman's business aims to teach underserved communities about financial trauma

There are many inspiring news reports in Sacramento, CA. In a recent news article, the topic was about a Sacramento woman’s business. Reportedly, Kumar's journey to financial success took years. Aside from that, her "ah-ha" moment came when she was a newly divorced mother with a six-month-old. Kumar said, "I was grocery shopping, buying diapers and milk for my son, and my card kept declining.” She added: "It was so hard to hold back my tears. I promised my day, that day will never ever repeat in my life." As a result, she took her passion and aligned it with a purpose, that is teaching others about something called financial trauma.

Link to maps

California Automobile Museum 2200 Front St, Sacramento, CA 95818, United States Get on I-5 N from Front St 4 min (1.0 mi) Continue on I-5 N. Take I-80 E to Watt Ave in North Highlands. Take exit 94A from I-80 E 11 min (11.1 mi) Follow Watt Ave to Kings Way in Arden-Arcade 6 min (2.3 mi) Kensington 3644 Kings Way, Sacramento, CA 95821, United States

[sunflvrs]

*   𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄   :   harlow   &   oakley / continued  from  here  .

         slips  through  the  crack  with  ease  ,  cat  -  like  in  the  pitch  dark  ,  moves  quick  before  he  has  a  change  of  heart  .  ‘  oh  ,  you  know  .  i’ve  been  around  .  met  some  people  .  seen  some  places  .  ’  explanation  is  brief  ,  vague  and  up  for  interpretation  ,  doesn’t  wish  to  relish  in  his  pain  further  .  ‘  shh  ,  hey  ,  ’  femme  coos  ,  closing  some  of  the  space  between  them  .  ‘  that  was  the  last  time  .  i  swear  .  i  didn’t  lie  when  i  said  i  missed  you  .  it’s  the  only  reason  i  came  back  .  you’re  the  only  reason  .  ’  knows  words  tend  to  lose  value  once  repeated  too  many  times  ,  therefore  reaches  out  ,  both  hands  seeking  to  capture  one  of  his  own  .  swallows  harshly  while  giving  it  a  squeeze  of  reassurance  .  ‘  i’m  not  going  anywhere  .  let  me  prove  it  to  you  .  ’   /   @bcguilc​   .   

[dizstermania]

have fun ygs

[lovcsick]

&   .   closed  starter  for  @atvrvxia​   .   (  1  /  2  ) 

        ‘  so we’re kissing other people now ?  ’

[lovcsick-a]

&      .      @ladygenie​      !      ♡    (    based    )

she’s   placed   herself   on   the   bathroom   countertop   ;   legs   parted,   the   taller   figure   captured   between   sun-kissed   thighs,   palms   pressed   against   chilly   marble.   oblivious   to   the   skirt   slowly   yet   steadily   riding   up   her   bare   skin   and   seemingly   unbothered  by   muffled   sounds   from   the   buzzing   party  downstairs   that   seeps   through   the   lower   cracks   of   the   door.   she’s   got   eyes   for them   only,   offering   her   every   last   drop   of   attention   always   so   willingly.   slender   fingers   curl   around   their   wrist,   gently,   cradling   their   hand   in   hers   as   she   plucks   a   marker,   teeth   sinking   into   the soft   flesh   of   her   lower   lip   and   brows   furrowing   in   concentration   as   she   scribbles   across   their   palm   in   bright   red.   watches   the   ink   seep   into   the   surface   of   the   skin.   marry   me   ?   curling   their   fingers   into   a   closed   fist,   she   sinks   back,  slumped   body   resting   against the   mirror   as   she   tilts   her   chin   to   look   at   them.   dark,   glossy   hues   laced   with   anticipation   searches   for   theirs   in   a   question-like   manner.  

[sunflvrs]

*    𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄    :    harlow    &    oakley    ◦ .   @pcignant   .

[intomusings]

﹒﹒   female   names   masterlist     !

in honor of my second milestone on here , i’ve decided to release a master list of 400+ female names i personally love and think could be used more in the community . this was also requested by a few anons and names will be added to the list frequently . the names are sorted by first letter but not alphabetically within each letter category . if you found this useful , feel free to like or reblog to spread this !

A : aurianna, addison, alannah, allegra, alina, alma, andra, avril, abella, arizona, annalise, amelia, aspen, alejandra, ayla, ales, alessia, anessa, asia, aline, adrienne, avery, armani, adaline, arden. 

B : blaire, brooke, brooklyn, bruna, bettina, bianca, becca, bella, bonnie, brielle, blake, bodhi, beverly, bambi, bronte, billie, briar, bria, birdie, brighton. 

C : catalina, cerise, celeste, celene, carson, camila, cecilia, callista, cadence, cassie, carmen, cali, charlie, camryn, camille, clara, claudete, chantel, chachi, capri, cove, chanel. 

D : diana, devi, dylan, daphne, dani, delphine, dahlia, delia, darcy, dawn, davina, dove, daisy, delaney, dua, darya, delilah, dixie, dior, dulce, dina, dayana. 

E : ember, eloisa, eleonora, emara, elena, esme, emery, emmeline, elsa, eva, evie, emmy, estelle, esther, evelyn, erin, eliana, everly, emerson, elle, ezra, eiza, eden. 

F : florence, franny, fiorella, faith, fiona, faye, farrah, freya, fern, flor, frankie. 

G : giulia, giulianna, georgia, ginny, grecia, giselle, genevieve, gabbie, grace, genie, gaia, giada, gemma, geles, genele, gia, gwendolyn, geneva, gracen. 

H : hazel, holland, helena, harlow, haven, hera, haley, houda, heidi, hana, harley, honey, hera. 

I : isobel, ivana, irma, irina, isadora, imogen, isla, ivy, inessa, ibiza, irelynn, iliana, ilana, indya. 

J : juliet, jayden, jordyn, jelena, jodie, jennie, jade, jesy, josie, june, jada, jemmye, jacey, janelle, juniper, jayla, jaliah, jewel, jane, johanna, jolie.

K : kendall, kensington, kennedy, katya, karlie, katerina, kailani, koral, kai, kaia, karma, kinsley, kylie, karina, korinna, karla, kemi, kate, kerigan, kali, kiyomi, kouvr. 

L : lourdes, leandra, london, lucia, luisa, logan, lena, leonora, larissa, lydia, lorelai, lylah, lettie, lottie, lalisa, luna, lara, lia, lorena, livia, layla, leighton, lyra, lola, lainey, laurel, luella, lumi. 

M : maricela, mariana, maeve, mabel, mila, marbella, maia, melody, mimi, monet, malauna, mira, mallory, millie, marla, mia, marvela, marni, madelaine, maleia, magnolia, maren. 

N : nilsa, nutsa, nini, naomi, noa, nevlyn, nathaly, nicolette, nadira, nicola, nova, nany, nala, niaye, nyla, noelle, nathalie, 

O : olympia, orianthi, octavia, opal, oriana, ophelia, orion, oakley, odessa, odette, odelia. 

P : paola, paris, peyton, phebe, priyanka, paislee, paloma, pandora, parvati, piper, perla, pearl, pia, priya, pilar, paxon. 

Q : quinn, quintessa. 

R : rowan, rylie, rosalie, roslyn, raquel, rose, reign, renata, raegan, reyna, ryann, raya, rhiannon, ria, rue, rhodes.

S : serena, serafina, sawyer, sylvie, sol, samira, sloane, silver, sutton, stella, saanvi, sab, seren, seven, sophia, star, skye, sabina, saskia, summer, stormy, salena, sage, sonny, solange, sahar, sumaya, shelby. 

T : tatum, tayler, tara, torre, tia, thea, tyra, truly, thalia, taryn, tampson, tayli, talya, teala, tala. 

U : uma. 

V : valencia, violetta, venus, verity, vanessa, venecia, vinnie, vida, vivienne, valentina, velora, vera, venice.

W : willow, winona, willa, wanda, witney, westlyn, windsor, wilhelmina, wren. 

X : ximena, xiomara, xashary, xena, xyla. 

Y : yovanna, yves, yara, yvette, yasmin, yesenia, yensi.

Z : zara, zion, zoe, zahara, zharia, zella, zendaya, zakiyah. 

[reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle]

DAY TWELVE (AND BIRTHDAY GIFT 10/10): @hughstheforcelou

And last but not least, my very best friend, Lou. You have been an absolute godsend and I am so happy to have you in my life. Please stay forever. 🤪 Because you are my best friend, I wanted to showcase all my favorite friendships that we have created together. 💛 Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

feat. Bennett Westley & Maisie Barker, Maisie Barker & Annie Finnigan, Ace Kensington & Pidge Kennedy, Mabel Harlow & Queenie Abrejo, Didina Vinet & Kippi Dixon, and Florean Beaumont & Kippi Dixon