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cherry-interlude · 3 years ago

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Lana Del Rey Unreleased Ranking (5)

This is a re-ranking of Lana's unreleased songs, after making a first a few years ago. This is all my opinion, which I don't mind anyone disagreeing with but don't come for me for it - honestly, I like every song, despite any criticism, and this ranking is very vague. It's based on objective and subjective opinion.

This is the fifth of five posts, with my favourites.

Wild One

Lana is nostalgic without the sadness, remembering how she’d shake it for Mike but is embracing her freedom. She lets country influence seep through her voice and her uncomplicated instrumentals – it would be an unsurprising addition to Chemtrails

True Love On The Side

Though simple in structure and lyrics, it’s more Lana’s grittier rock sound and her incredible vocals that make this one of my favourite unreleased tracks. Lana lets herself go and goes full pop rock chick for this track, whilst keeping in with her ‘other woman’ trope that makes the song still familiar despite its departure from her usual music.

Driving In Cars With Boys

Dripping in nostalgia, Driving In Cars With Boys makes you yearn for the kind of 1950s/1960s era Lana often laments over. Lana is a bad girl just having fun, doing what she pleases and giving in to her vices, and it’s this kind of song that is relatable in its escapism and desire to just do what you please. There are two versions, one with a more monotone chorus that matches the rest of the verses and another where Lana sings in a higher register, letting her cheerful, breezy love for driving with the boys shine through in her vocals.

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Perfect for Paradise, Angels Forever Forever Angels has that slow, rhythmic summer drive feel, a relaxed version of Ride which also has associations with the bikers that feature in both the music video for Ride and the lyrics to this unreleased song. It’s dreamy but grounded by Lana’s patriotic love for the grungier side of Americana.

Hollywood

It has a breathy chorus you could sing to, the feeling of a summer evening and blue skies. The ever building and dropping beat that keeps the song ticking as restlessly as Lana’s hopes and dreams gets me feeling pumped as much as her emphasised, dragged out “Hollywood” in the chorus makes me soothed. Lana is wishing for fame and fortune but it has the feel of an eighties American teen movie, iconic and deserving of a cult following.

Yes To Heaven

Hazy like a daydream, Yes To Heaven is made of sunlight and soft grass, closer to nature than the spotlights of Lana’s often alcohol-soaked, money drenched stages. Lana’s voice is tentative until it shimmers in the chorus, and though it was made for Ultraviolence, it wouldn’t be out of place on the shining beacon of hope that is Lana’s positive turn, Lust For Life.

Life Is Beautiful

This gorgeous song was intended for Age of Adaline’s trailer, and it’s been years of waiting for the full song to be released. Now we have it, it’s certainly worth the wait. Dreamy and soft, this track is a timeless classic that could underwhelm from it’s gentle feel but works perfectly well as a pure little love song.

On Our Way

Stripped back and with a country twang, Lana doesn’t add fuss and frills to this song, instead just crooning precisely how she feels in the kind of song that keeps you daydreaming for hours. Not even the smattering of her favourite imagery (Chevrolets and K-Mart lip gloss) overshadows the love that’s at the forefront of this track.

Never Let Me Go

Like On Our Way, Never Let Me Go has the country twang and stripped back feel that makes this a more subdued song, her lyrics shining even more. Lana’s additional strings layer this song well and her comparisons to the dangerous couple that is Sid and Nancy gives this track an edge, keeping it from being too frothy.

French Restaurant

A piano ballad, Lana strips back the hurt of Without You and dual dedication of Video Games to sing about how fame matters so little to her while she’s torn between two men. Her voice is beautiful and it does well to be so minimal in its production, her emotion driving the song clearly enough. Especially pretty are the backing vocals of the choruses, echoes of her thoughts that hammer home her broken feelings.

Trash Magic

Lana’s delicate and soft vocals help tie into the Lolita-esque character Lana often plays in her music. It has a similar feel to 1949, dripping with her delicious imagery, and wouldn’t be out of place on AKA Lizzy Grant. Lana is the fragile ‘daddy’s girl’ again in this song, and the sharp yet soothing music in the background sets the tone for a quiet trailer park night.

Us Against The World

Though fairly chilled out, Lana still hooks listeners with her characterisation of waitress by day/stripper by night, a dangerous girl tempting an equally dangerous guy. Lana drips sexiness in this song and though it’s not as exciting as some of her other unreleased pop hits, it is perfect for the Del Rey character.

Your Girl

Much like Caught You Boy, Lana is desperate for a man she can’t have but is instead a complete wreck. Lana just repeats over and over how she wishes she was this man’s girl, practically pleading after describing how she needs to be led off the stage from falling apart. Yet it’s still sultry, still passionate, and is topped off by her honey-like vocal demonstration in the bridge and the chorus.

Roses

Lana is the other woman with a twist – instead of moping about her man (Other Woman, Sad Girl) she is taking action. Fighting against him, not letting him go without making some noise and getting rid of his girlfriend, Lana storms into the song with a vengeful wrath and calls him out for his poor attempts at apologies. When this song first came out, I adored it, since it was the exact kind of strong-girl track I wanted from her with a great hook and all the right Lana-isms. Now, I still get that thrill listening to this song and its kick-ass fuck-you to the man she loves.

Playing Dangerous

The churning drums, the spoken verses and the coy vocals set this song apart from her others. It falls shorter during the choruses, the verses being the best parts of the track, but the way Lana interacts with the listener ultimately and is a more direct character of ‘innocent’ seductress who might actually be downright bad (arson is hinted).

Serene Queen

Lana is unbothered and unruffled, as collected as she is in Put Your Lips Together but this time with a definite Ultraviolence/Honeymoon feel. Lana is unshaken by the blazing guns, instead completely calm with her dangerous lover, questioning why he even has a problem in the first place. As it picks up in the chorus, almost smirking, it becomes one of her finer unreleased songs yet.

Ave Maria

This is just an instrumental but there’s something so beautifully haunting about it. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Hollywood movie, with shades of the Lolita soundtrack instantly coming to mind when it first starts. It even works well without singing, and I hope we get a full version soon.

Puppy Love

From the perspective of a Marilyn Monroe figure, Lana plays the teenage girl wishing for a traditional romance with her lover. It’s ever-so-adorable, harking back to the sweeter parts of the fifties, but there’s a sense of sadness throughout it. Under the surface of the puppy love is the reality that the references to Monroe do not forget her sadness, loneliness and ultimately her overdose. The tone shifts to such an unhappiness in the bridge, directly calling back to Monroe’s phone call shortly before she overdosed, twisting the song to something more melancholic.

Cherry Blossom

The lullaby that grew into the marvellous, completed Cherry Blossom is a lovely tribute to someone small and beloved. Though Lana doesn’t have children yet, the care in her voice and each of her heart-warming compliments and promises is still thoroughly enjoyable – and comforting.

Colour Blue

In a song that reminds me of the love/hate relationship of Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana takes her time to question why she loves the men that she does and, ultimately, grow from it, beginning to want something different. It’s raw and personal, with a gushing chorus that is complimented fully by the guitar. This song is blue all over, from Lana's opening harmonisation to her abrupt, unhappy ending.

Paradise

This song is, of course, pure paradise. A summery beat, a flippant Lana simply enjoying her lover no matter how long she’ll have him for and her coos of “sick!” and “that’s dope!” make this into a tasty distraction fit for the sunny months. Her casualness in this track is fresh as well as the dance-happy music that she doesn’t often create in her albums.

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Lana is the waitress with a crush in this bop of a track, trying to convince a guy to get with her instead of that “bitch”. Convincing she is, as she uses all of her charm, wit and insistence that there’s no promises behind her intentions to have a good time with him. It’s just a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of her music, not too heavy and perfectly polished. It’s self-assured as much as it is breezy, and calm as it is it’s still a riot to listen to.

Caught You Boy

A dream-esque confession of desire, obsession and pure, crazy love, Lana isn’t outright insane in this track (Kinda Outta Luck, Jealous Girl, Serial Killer) but she hints towards being slightly too attached to her beau and describing herself as an army of one. The song is sweet and flowery but there’s a sadness and danger to it that keeps it from being too sugary.

Fine China

Some of Lana’s best lyrics are in Fine China as she sings of her fractured relationship, unhappy wedding and many beautiful yet easily broken things. It’s a slow, unfussy ballad but her strong voice and stunning lyrics make it so much more than a throwaway unreleased song.

Thunder

What feels like a coming-of-age slow dance song but is ultimately a choir-backed break-up track. Lana’s lyrics are clever and her voice is the perfect complement to The Last Shadow Puppets, this combined work a sure hit that deserves some kind of release and recognition. Lana is frustrated but tender as she leads the song with plenty of presence.

Prom Song Gone Wrong

The fifties feel, the teenage romance, the warm and gorgeous vocals that switch from dreamily longing to a cheeky talk-rap suggest this is a song tied tightly to Puppy Love, except with a more hopeful feel to it. Lana is ready to leave and she wants her lover to come with her, and even if it’s a youthful mistake there’s no mistaking that the love she – and her man – feels is real. It’s a pretty dedication to the kind of head-spinning romance of younger years, though it has an edge to it. Lana’s choruses are desperate, her pleading genuine and the strange way the music builds and collapses right at the end give the illusion all isn’t the sunshine and rainbows Lana sings of – and hopes for.

#lana del rey #lana del rey songs #lana del rey unreleased #cherry-interlude

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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

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An Art of Balance #5

A/N: That one was tough. I have never written something with so much physical action before, and I had to rewrite a huge chunk of it until I finally felt happy with it. Describing sports is really tough, as it turns out. Also, KC belongs to the wonderful @kc-needs-coffee who lets me to a little cameo once in a while 😊 Enjoy!

Word Count: ~ 3.100 (oops)

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Chapter 5: Back Home

A persistent rumour among the students was that Professor Binns had altered the clock in his classroom, back when he had been still alive. It was said, he did so to allow him to delve more minutely into every little detail of his subject he wished his students to remember.

If he hadn’t known any better, Orion could have sworn it was true.

He absentmindedly ran his quill through his fingers, trying his best to take in Professor Binns’s droning voice in what was their last class of the day. Orion glanced around the classroom. He estimated about half of the students were daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The other half was fast asleep.

His gaze wandered out of the window. He could just make out the Quidditch pitch up ahead in the distance. The banners on top of the stands were swaying in a gentle breeze. He could feel it lightly brush his face from where he sat near the open window. It brought with it the pleasant warmth of a late summer afternoon.

Orion shuffled in his seat. He could feel his entire body brim with energy. The restlessness he felt had been bubbling under his skin for the last few days. He was itching to get back on his broomstick and to feel the wind on his face as he sped through the air.

This was what he had missed most during the summer break. When not at Hogwarts, he had no access to a broomstick, let alone people to fly with. Although Orion prided himself on always being grateful for what the universe had chosen to bestow on him, he sometimes he couldn’t help feeling envious of people like Skye. They could practise what they loved to their heart’s content, whenever or wherever they wished to.

He could feel McNully nudging him into his side. “There are only 23 minutes and 35 seconds left to his torment. 30 seconds as we speak,” he whispered.

Orion tore his gaze from the silhouette of the Quidditch pitch and turned to better face him. “Excuse me?”

McNully pointed at his now worse for wear looking quill. “You have been running your hand over this quill fourteen times in the last twenty minutes. In the last 45 minutes you have been staring out of the window seven times, with an average duration of five minutes. You have not been able to play Quidditch for 76 days in a row. And to add a personal note, tapping your foot excessively like that gives off an impatient expression and is rather annoying as well.”

Orion only now noticed his foot was indeed lightly tapping against the leg of table. He stopped.

“Sometimes I find your habit of observing your surroundings as meticulously as you do worrying, my friend.”

McNully shrugged, a carefree grin showing on his face. “What do you expect? I’m a commentator. I observe things and I comment on them. That is what I do.”

Orion had to grin at that. “It is indeed.”

He propped his head onto his hand, staring at the clock mounted above Professor Binns’s head. “I wouldn’t call it impatient, though. More like eager. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

McNully had started doodling onto his parchment, drawing tiny snitches between his notes. “Call it what you want, it doesn’t change what it is.”

Orion contemplated his words. “I agree. The appearance of the shell cannot change the core of things.”

He could see the confusion forming on McNully’s face. “I’m about 34 % sure that is what I said.”

Only a few hours later, Orion felt himself unable to wipe the grin off his face. He stood in the middle of his beloved Quidditch pitch, the sun warming the back of his yellow robes. The unmistakable smell of grass, wood warmed by the sunlight and broom wax made him feel almost intoxicated.

Most of his team had already taken to the sky. They were getting back into the swing of things, darting around the pitch, doing turns and dives. Even down here, the joy they radiated was contagious. Everyone was wild with excitement to finally be back.

“And here is Parkin with a triple backwards flip. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a move to be watched! But what is this? Parkin is challenged to a race around the pitch by Jameson! Which Chaser can push their Comet’s limits further? There is a 92,4 % chance we are going to find out!”

He stifled a laugh. Of course McNully was here to commentate on their first friendly of the season. Orion hadn’t been the only one antsy to get back to business.

His attention shifted to the group of tense looking students stood in front of him.

Orion had carefully selected a few Hufflepuffs that were known to be skilled flyers. Every one of them had the potential to fill the vacant spot on their House’s team. He had already been thoroughly testing them, before admitting them to a practise with the other players. They had all passed his balancing test. Now it was time for them to prove themselves in action.

When he saw the reserve players arriving on the field, he mounted his broomstick.

“Now, my friends, is the time. The quest to become one of the pillars the building that is the Hufflepuff team is built upon is almost complete for one of you. For our new Beater to be revealed, we will have to see how you fare in a real match situation.”

He raised his arm, calling his teammates down to his side. “We will divide into two teams and play for a bit before switching things up. Good luck to all of you.” He inclined his head towards the contestants, some of them looking positively sick with nerves. “May this division serve to bring us unison.”

He unlocked the trunk resting at his feet and watched first the Snitch and then the Bludgers shoot up into the air. Picking up the Quaffle, he pushed himself off the ground.

“Let’s play.”

If returning to Hogwarts had him feel like being home, tearing up and down the pitch made Orion feel like he truly belonged here. In contrast to the hectic movements unfolding around him, playing Quidditch granted him unparalleled focus, similar to nothing else. All that mattered was the moment at present, nothing before, nothing after.

He had taken himself back from the game playing out in front of him to better watch the students competing for the open position. Jason Everett, a rather loud and braggy guy, was one of the competitors he had chosen. He was sharing the dorm with Orion and McNully and Orion had never been able to form a real connection with him. To his surprise, however, he was showing great promise.

He decided to take the challenge up a bit. Putting himself on the same team as Lizzie and Skye, he wanted Everett to compete against a full set of Chasers for the second half of the match.

It wasn’t until flying with Skye and Lizzie by his side that he fully realised how much he had missed this. He felt like sheer life was running through his veins.

Although they hadn’t seen each other since the end of last year, it took them only a few manoeuvres to regain the unmatched unison the Hufflepuff team had grown reputed for. They had managed to create a bond between the three of them that didn’t require any words.

He felt this connection especially with Lizzie, allowing them to move almost as one when attacking the opposite goalposts. Throwing the Quaffle back and forth between them, it was no easy feat to stop them from scoring.

With Skye, it was different.

They had played together even longer than he and Lizzie. If there was harmony with her, it was all friction with Skye. The two of them were entertaining completely different beliefs on what Quidditch stood for and how it should be approached. As a result, they regularly clashed, on the pitch and off.

Contrary to what most people would think, the tension between them had never worn him down. Like a static charge, the constant challenge Skye Parkin posed to him acted as an energiser. Discussing strategic matters with her had never failed to give Orion new perspectives outside of his own thinking patterns.

“Here is what we all have been waiting for, my honoured spectators. Now, we are getting serious!” McNully was giving it his all in the commentary box, clearly relishing the first friendly of his not-so-secret favourite team.

“Amari and Parkin are on the hunt for the Quaffle, Jameson’s broken out of formation. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we are about to see the Parkin’s family pinching signature move! Watch this! The Chaser is flanked by Amari and Parkin. This is not looking good, ladies and gentlemen, if I were in possession of that Quaffle I would seriously be worried right now. Oh, and there we have it! Jameson makes expert use of her Comet’s impressive speed and pulls up from underneath her opponent, forcing her to either let go of the Quaffle or her broomstick. Parkin relieves her of the Quaffle, using her broom’s patented Horton-Keitch Braking Charm to drift around, racing to the other side of the pitch, Jameson overtaking her and Amari close by her side.”

Lizzie was diverging from the path he and Skye flew on, preparing to round and get behind the other team’s attacking Chasers, allowing Skye to pass the Quaffle to her at the last moment. They had used this strategy numerous times and it had seldomly failed them.

“Parkin sets herself up to score. Or is she letting Jameson have the advantage? We might never find out as Everett, hot contestant for the vacant Beater position, aims his Bludger directly at Parkin. This might get ugly!”

McNully was right. Everett had hit his Bludger straight towards them. It rushed towards Skye at a fast pace. Orion shouted a warning, but she had already seen it coming. She waited for a moment, dodging the Bludger at the last second before passing the Quaffle on to Lizzie, who made short work of the Keeper.

“And Jameson scores! That’s ten points for her team and an impressive show of flying skills from Parkin if I may add.”

Orion nodded contentedly before turning around and chasing after the Quaffle again. Lizzie and Skye both didn’t seem to have lost their fire. They were in good form.

Despite himself, he liked the potential Everett was showing. He wasn’t nearly the Beater they had lost, but he had foundations they could build upon. When Lizzie had needed to fill in for Bean a seasons ago, he and McNully had made a more than capable Beater out of her in a shorter amount of time.

His mind was taken off his thoughts when he saw a yellow flash dart past him. It was their Seeker Lucy, who had spotted the Snitch hovering just underneath the railing of the Slytherin stand. The other Seeker had seen it as well and both were racing towards it.

“Both Seekers appear to have spotted the Golden Snitch. Catching it would reward their team with additional 150 points. We’re talking the winning catch of this game here! O’Connell utilises the advanced speed of her broom, but Miller has less ground to cover! Both are nearing the Snitch at high speed, if no one slows down, we had better alert Madam Pomfrey. But no, no! O’Connell takes the absolute last out of her broomstick. She secures the Snitch and her team’s victory!”

Orion saw Lucy raise her arm in triumph, the wings of the tiny golden ball beating frantically against her palm.

Everybody was steering their brooms towards the ground, clapping Lucy on the back. Orion landed beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“That was magnificent catch, Lucy, well done.” He turned towards the other players that had gathered around them and raised his voice. “Although Lucy secured the win for her team, all of us have won today. As we were competing against each other, we were competing against ourselves. Overcoming what’s inside us makes us stronger, and lets us grow closer as one team.”

“One team!” everybody shouted what had gradually become their motto, raising their broomsticks up in the air.

Orion turned towards the contestants. “Watching you play, I have been able to gain insight to the path that lies ahead of us. I will contemplate which one of you will get the chance to balance our team. I will let you know my conclusion when it is time.”

“And that would be when?” Everett asked impatiently.

Orion tilted his head and smiled placidly. “The time has come when the time has come. And the time is not now.”

A mix of confusion and frustration on his face, Everett left them standing and headed for the changing rooms. Orion had seen this look countless times before. New players always needed time to grow accustomed to his ways.

He was already going over the contestants’ performances in his mind when McNully rolled onto the pitch and joined his side.

“Brilliant match! The way I see it, you and Gryffindor are pretty evenly matched this season. I announced them the day before yesterday. If you keep up the form and choose a capable second Beater, that is. I calculated the odds and I would say Jason Everett has the best chance of fitting in, he is fast and has suitable strength. His aim is not the best though, 31,6 % of his Bludgers missed their mark.”

McNully’s eyes lit up. “I know just which one of my playbooks he needs. He will never miss his target again.”

Orion quickly filtered the information his friend had been spewing at him. He was right. Everett was far from ideal, but which player was when they started out fresh? They were like rough diamonds, waiting to be cut and polished until ready to shine.

“Can a Bludger really miss its target, though? Or is it the Beater that misjudges the path the Bludger is meant to be taken?” he mused.

“Whatever it is, I am glad this particular Bludger’s path was not destined to end in Skye’s face.” Lizzie and Skye were approaching them, their brooms resting on their shoulders.

Skye scoffed at her words. “As if it could have hit me. I had things under control. It takes more than that to bring a Parkin down.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “He is no Erika Rath, for sure, but it was good enough for a beginner, I would wager.”

Skye’s face darkened. “Don’t remind me of her. It has been such a beautiful day so far.”

“You will have to deal with her rather sooner than later. Ravenclaw is set as your first match in two months’ time. And from what I have seen so far, their Beaters are still the best Hogwarts has to offer.” McNully’s voice had a dreamy touch to it, making Lizzie chuckle.

“We all know you particularly enjoy watching the Ravenclaw Beaters,” she teased with a sweet voice. “Give KC my love, next time you see her, will you?”

“I have no idea, what you are talking about.” His face was blushing a deep scarlet. “I am merely doing my job and keeping my statistics up to date. I’d better get going now.” McNully turned his wheelchair hastily and rolled off quickly.

Orion was giving the snickering girls by his side a scolding look. “You shouldn’t taunt him like that. Our hearts’ desires are out of our power to control.”

“Calm down, Orion, it’s just a bit of fun. He can take that.”

The sun had slowly started setting, the stands casting their elongated shadows across the field. Skye rubbed her neck. “Come on, Liz, let’s get changed and head back to the castle. I’m starving.”

Lizzie hesitated, glancing at Orion for a second. “Go ahead, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Staring at her friend in wonder, Skye shrugged. “Whatever. Make it quick, I won’t wait too long.”

After Skye had left, Orion and Lizzie were alone on the pitch. He watched her staring back at the castle for a moment, the sunlight catching in her golden-brown hair. She seemingly tried to collect herself. He couldn’t deny being curious about what was on her mind.

He smiled openly. “What can I help you with, Lizzie?”

For an instant, Lizzie seemed to look for a way to word her question. She didn’t look him in the eye.

“Uhm, you are quite good at Herbology, aren’t you?” she mumbled.

He raised his eyebrows. “Being in balance with oneself brings you closer to nature. If you listen closely, the plants can tell you what they need.”

She sighed. “I take that as a ‘yes’.” She ran her fingers over the smooth handle of her broomstick, still not looking at him, her shoulders unusually tense. “Would you mind helping me studying?”

He tried to hide his surprise. “You need a tutor? Professor Sprout regularly fills me in on the academic progress of our team’s members. She never mentioned you struggling.”

“I haven’t so far,” Lizzie replied quickly. “But I had a look at the curriculum for this year. It’s really tough, and I don’t want to mess up my O.W.L.s because of a plant biting my finger off.”

It still struck him as odd, but Lizzie was his friend. He wouldn’t let her down if she sought his help. “I’ll be glad to guide you through your curriculum, as long as you desire my help.”

Finally Lizzie met his eyes, obviously relieved. “Thank you, I appreciate this a lot.” She suddenly seemed to remember something. “Can my friend Rowan come, too?”

His surprise turned into confusion. “Rowan Khanna is struggling with a subject?”

“Well, she is a perfectionist.” Lizzie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and she impatiently tucked it behind her ear. She was radiating a nervous energy Orion had never seen on her before.

“Of course, bring her. I’ll talk to Professor Sprout about using the greenhouse and let you know the details, is that alright?”

All of a sudden, Lizzie seemed much calmer. She sighed with relief, a smile forming on her face. “Brilliant. See you in the Common Room.”

With that, she spun around and quickly left. Now alone on the pitch, Orion stared after her and wondered what in Godric’s name that had been about.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #orion x mc #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #art of balance #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #quidditch squad #the quidditch squad #quidditch

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drawlfoy · 4 years ago

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The Wonders of Ohio P.5

masterlist (check here for parts 1-4!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: from 14 year old me babey

warnings: cringe, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, language, and just bad writing

summary: y/n is in her senior year of high school when she is asked to take on an exchange student from britain that’s a little...different. this is NOT a nonmagic AU. draco is still a wizard and this will become and integral part of the story shortly.

a/n: heyyyy everyone. i graduated from high school this week and i’m posting this as my happy-one-year-to-me. as some of you may know, i posted my very first fic on this day a year ago. i’m really happy to see how i’ve grown since and i’m so lucky to have shared this with all of you. anyways, nittygritty--

this part is really the last slow exposition chapter. chapters 6 on will be a whole whirlwind beginning with homecoming and i hope that you guys are willing to stick around. i promise itll be worth the wait. y/n is going to get the story arc of a lifetime and also please do not hate heather she is just going through it ok

anywayssssssss

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 4.6k (;))

song recs:

strawberry blonde -- mitski

in your neighbors garden -- mimi bay

wishes -- beach house

ode to artifice -- samia

pink in the night -- mitski

enjoy <3

The seatbelt buckle scorched the side of Y/N’s exposed neck as she turned to face the disheveled blonde in the passenger seat.

“Do I need to teach you to set an alarm?”

Draco let out a huff. “Stop. Do you have a….a comb, or a brush, or something here?” His hands looked abnormally fidgety. Their actions were shaky, varying from patting his pockets to running through his hair. He seemed more and more frustrated each time his hands left his pockets empty.

How curious Y/N thought as she racked her brain for any remembrance of putting a brush in her car. It was always a mess, and she honestly couldn’t blame Draco for assuming that anything could be in there.

“I don’t think there’s one here,” said Y/N, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic despite the fact that his tardiness had them 10 minutes late. “You can look around if you want, king.”

“What’d you call me?” His voice was suddenly sharp and awake.

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. “You don’t--ok. It’s a joke. You can call guys here that.”

“And it means that I’m…?”

“It means I’m acknowledging that you exist, I guess. It’s not like it has a strict negative or positive connotation. Like, I can say ‘Ok king’ to any man telling me something and it can either be sarcastic, or it can be because I don’t know what else to say and just want to let him know I heard him.”

Draco’s eyes looked a tad glazed over when Y/N dared a glance in his direction.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m sorry. I’ll try and ease you into the world of American slang.”

He granted her a little “uh-huh” before opening up the glovebox with great difficulty and rummaging through the mess. Y/N would’ve felt more embarrassed about the tampon that fell on the ground in the process if he seemed like he actually knew what it was.

Her attention turned back to the road as Draco continued to sift through things. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything embarrassing hidden away in the corners of her car--after all, it hadn’t been organized since the beginning of summer--and decided that it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t the eerie silence that eventually prompted her to turn to look his direction--no, it was the weird energy in the car, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. All the hair raised on her arms, and she shivered...but it was stifling hot in the car.

“Oh, did you find a brush?” she asked. His hair laid as perfectly as always, but his hands were lying shaking in his lap, palms to the sky. No hairbrush was in sight.

“Er... “ He was paler than usual, which was quite the feat for someone who looked like a ream of paper. “No. Just remembered a trick my father taught me.”

She tensed at the mention of his father--the very first time Draco had done so. “Oh. Okay. Glad you got it figured out, king.”

Her voice lightened on the last word, hoping she could coax a little smile out of him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok.”

oOo

There were many things Y/N thought she understood, but Draco Malfoy being in her Physics C class was not one of them. She took pity and sat next to him as he fumbled his way through the first lecture. His notes, while neat, were littered with crossed out portions and question marks.

You do know there’s an eraser on your pencil, right? she jotted on a note that she sent his way. His brow furrowed and he seemed to tap at the end of the eraser for just a few moments before deciding otherwise and xing out another practice problem he’d done incorrectly. Symbols that she’d never seen before were scattered all throughout his notes.

Maybe the UK kids just learn stuff differently.

By the time that Physics came to an end, Y/N was eager to get away from the storm cloud that was brewing over Draco’s perfectly smoothed and infuriatingly pretty moonbeam colored hair. The amount of attention he was getting from all the other girls made Y/N want to jump off a cliff--suddenly everyone was her “best friend” “just wanting to check up on what happened over summer”. She was grateful to see the face of Lizzy, grinning and looking mischievous during their break period.

“You must be Draco,” said the redhead, a glint in her eyes. He looked a little scared.

“Er...yeah.”

“Mind giving us some privacy? Y/N and I have some urgent matters to discuss,” she continued, looking him up and down. Y/N attempted to ignore the twist in her gut as she watched him swallow and nod, turning away to go brood elsewhere. Once he was out of sight, Lizzy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the girl’s bathroom.

“It’s so funny how he’s following you around like a lost puppy,” Lizzy said. “Also, he’s gorgeous. If you don’t at least try to get some of that, then I’m never trusting your judgement again.”

“But, Li-”

“The boy’s a fucking walking Wattpad story cover. Dark, tragic past, unbelievably sharp jawline, rich parents, exotic accent....honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what else you could want.”

“Mom literally called him my host brother,” said Y/N. The bathroom was starting to smell suspiciously like cotton candy. “That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

“But you’re not related!”

“But it’s gross! And predatory! The kid doesn’t even know how to do basic algebra! I’m all he has!”

Lizzy’s eyebrow found its new home in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve gone absolutely batty if you think that every girl cursed with attraction to men in Cincinnati wouldn’t jump his skin at the chance. Use your head, queenie. He’s not alone. Shoot your shot.”

Y/N opened her mouth to serve back a retort--that was definitely there, thank you very much--but decided against it once she realized that the bathroom had become dead silent. “Um...maybe we can go over this later.” She flickered her eyes over to the line behind them that was now intently hanging on their every word. “I forgot I had to talk to the counselor.”

Lizzy was smirking as they exited the bathroom and began the search for Draco. It didn’t take long--the circle comprised of Heather and her friends was more than enough of a giveaway that he was about.

“Draco, sorry to make you wait,” Y/N called out. It took all her effort to abstain from cringing as her voice rang out across the group. Heather turned to send her a big smile.

“Hey Y/N! You didn’t tell me that Draco was from London!”

“He’s not,” she responded. “He’s from Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire. Of course. That’s what I meant.”

Draco’s smile was tense as he looked down at Heather--who stood roughly 4 inches below him--but he was smiling, and that wasn’t something that Y/N was on the receiving end of frequently. She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.

“I’m sure. Break’s almost over, Draco. I can show you where the English department is before the time is up.”

He paused, looking down at the blonde grinning up at him. “Er, actually, Heather already offered to show me around for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you in French.”

Y/N was shocked at the sheer amount of jealousy that rose up in her throat as she turned away and made her way to Art History---the only class Y/N and Draco didn’t share. The walk was strange. Being in solitude after having a gloomy British boy attached to her hip was understandably eerie. Because that’s all it was. Adjustment. Nothing else.

She settled in at a table full of her friends, namely Sylvia. The tall girl was always a bit whimsical, but Y/N found that she was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. It made sense that Sylvia would take Art History--her dark academic inspired aura and the perpetually hot mug of black coffee just screamed history nut.

“How’s your new brother?” she asked after the teacher had taken attendance. “I say that because I haven’t heard his name yet.”

“Ick, it’s gross to think of him as my brother,” Y/N responded. “And I know! We need to catch up. I’m sorry about not talking to you for a bit. The time difference was a bit weird during your trip.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was away on family business, anyways. I didn’t expect you to spend your days staying up until the wee hours of the night to tell me all about your exchange student. Anyways. His name?”

“You’re gonna scream when you hear it, Vie,” she said. “Draco Malfoy. It’s so posh. You have no idea. It definitely suits him, though. He’s very...You good?”

Sylvia’s olive toned face looked a bit paler than usual. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered that I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll have to text my mom about it.” She adjusted the wool cardigan that hung around her shoulders and came up looking composed. “Draco, huh? His parents must hate him.”

“At the very least! He’s so rude. And uptight. I can’t tell if it’s just a Brit thing or if it’s because he’s an asshole.”

Sylvia laughed. “I mean, when I was there over the summer, it was a different culture for sure. We’re by far louder. But I didn’t meet many mean ones. You must’ve just got a bad apple, then.”

“I guess so. He is pret--”

“Ladies, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, Mrs. Jensen,” Sylvia and Y/N said in unison.

oOo

“Thoughts, king?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Draco glared at her as he tried to open the passenger side door to find that it was locked tight. “Unlock? Please?”

“And I told you not to get cozy with ASB kids, yet here we are,” said Y/N as she slotted the key into the lock and turned.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m just looking out for you.” She slammed the door shut and threw her bag in the bag. The line of traffic to get out of the school was long and stuffy, and she was eager to just get it over with.

The wait was so hot that Draco peeled off his stupid formalish jacket that was on thin ice of being called a blazer and probably worth more than her car. Y/N tried to look away as his hair became slightly ruffled, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away. It was endearing, almost, how someone who could look so posh and serious could have ruffly hair--and hair that naturally light, too. She had asked him one night if it was dyed, and he scowled at her and told her the grammatically correct term was dead, and that his hair was alive, just like the rest of him, thank you very much. She dropped it.

Y/N finally rolled down her window after the AC simply refused to satisfy her, and the wind was a nice reminder to keep in her own lane. Draco was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. He had a feel of power to him, like he was capable of anything but just held it back. But he was just as inaccessible as he was pretty, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“Y/N?” He asked after a few moments of sitting in silence. “What’s Homecoming?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Heather. She asked if I had a date. Is that like a ball here?”

“She asked you if you had a date on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. ASB kids never do sleep, huh.”

“What?”

“Homecoming isn’t a ball. It’s like a...an…” Y/N paused as she saw Draco raise his eyebrows. “It’s, like, uh….Well I guess it is like a ball. An American one, though. Way less extravagant. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and run around the city. There technically is a dance, and all the ASB kids have to go, but literally no one else does but the underclassmen. Normally I go out with my friends and a date to somewhere fun and take pictures. And then get trashed afterwards.”

“Classy,” said Draco. “I think you can go now.”

A honk behind her emphasized his point as the space in between her and the car in front widened substantially.

“Thanks. Anyways, it’s not really a big deal. I’d suggest not going with Heather so you can skip out on the dance portion. Or if you want to go with her, get her to come with us into Cincinnati because I am not going to spend my last homecoming watching a grind circle.”

“A...what circle? And I don’t want to go with her.”

The relief Y/N felt was embarrassing. “Um...better if you don’t worry about it. You have a long time to figure it out anyways.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, propping his elbow up on the center console. The pristine button up he was wearing had ridden up, exposing the pale skin and the bottom of the tattoo she had seen a hint of earlier. “Do you have a date?”

“Um. No, not yet. I don’t think anyone except for couples do yet. We have until the end of this month to figure it out, so I’m not too worried about it.”

He nodded as Y/N’s car finally left the school parking lot and began picking up speed.

“I’m assuming you had balls? At your posh boarding school?”

“Er…” Draco ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further. “We only had one. It was when I was 14. We called it the Yule Ball.”

“Why only one?”

“It was for a special occasion. We had two other schools join us as well. It was quite a good time.”

“So every student only has one ball in their lifetime?”

“Of course not. Some of us--the ones from old families--have events like that regularly.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my bounds,” began Y/N, noticing how he tensed up, “So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But, I’m just wondering, what is your family like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they nice?”

“Oh.” The line in his forehead relaxed. “No. They wouldn’t like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Do you like them?”

She heard the breath hitch in his throat. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s hard to think about it when you feel like they’ve just shipped you off without anyone,” she added. “I’m really sorry, Draco. I know I’ve been a bit mean to you. I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through right now.”

The slight smile that spread across his face would’ve knocked her to her knees if she wasn’t already sitting down. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The silence that awaited them for the rest of the journey was comfortable.

oOo

School began to pick up the pace after the first few days. Y/N got into the swing of homework and her extracurricular workload. Draco was having a bit more difficulty, she presumed, but he’d never admit to it. She took pity one evening and gave him her laptop opened to a Khan Academy tab for Physics and was pleased to see that he showed up to class the next day with completed homework. He asked to borrow her laptop on a much more frequent basis after that.

The routine they settled into had her heart leaping into her chest almost constantly--they’d eat breakfast together at the table, Y/N would try to ignore how pretty he looked across the table as they shared a pot of black tea (earl grey, which Y/N was thrilled to learn was his favorite as well), they’d get in the car, she’d write him notes in physics to help him (even though he never asked, he always smile and give a little shake of his head before unfolding them and intently staring at her writing), they’d drive home together and bitch about their French teacher, he’d retire to his room and do whatever pretty blonde Brits do in the afternoon, they’d meet unexpectedly at the same time in the late evening to have a final cup of tea, and then they’d go to bed and do it all over again.

It was difficult for her to admit, but Y/N was falling very quickly for Draco. It was gross, and wrong, and manipulative, and completely against the code of conduct for exchange families, but she couldn’t help but spend her days fantasizing about how his gold-spun hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it or how gently she’d trace her fingers around the tattoo on the soft flesh of his forearm…

But Y/N knew those thoughts weren’t right. And they would go away. Eventually.

“How’s it going?” Sylvia asked, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts. The Art History sub told them to go into independent study, whatever that meant. Y/N was not very good at either of those words.

“Pretty good. I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks already,” she said. “It’s gonna be Halloween before we know it.”

“I can’t fucking waitttt,” said Sylvia. “I’m gonna be Wednesday Addams.”

“Again?”

“What else would I be? I get a new high collared black dress every year. It’d be a shame if it were going to go to waste. What are you gonna be?”

“One of the thousands of students finishing their UChicago ED app hours before the deadline.”

“You’re kidding. Can’t you just finish it the day before?”

“Where’s the fun in that? And, plus, I don’t have an idea as cool as Wednesday.”

Sylvia smirked as she opened up her planner and began to jot down something. “How’s Draco doing? I haven’t seen much of him lately. It seems like he never hangs out with us at break anymore.”

“Yeah, I ended up getting him connected with the Physics teacher. He’s getting tutored now. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t get into a good school.”

“Is that all you care about?” She smiled at Y/N. “Lizzy was telling me that you’re interested in him.”

“First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, I’m not supposed to be, so I’m not.” Y/N hoped that the edge in her voice was convincing enough.

Her friend raised her eyebrows so dramatically that her glasses nearly slipped off her nose. “Y/N, who’s gonna hear about it. You guys are both going away at the end of the year anyways, and I’m sure he’s not going to be writing to his dear mum about his love life. If it’s consensual, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’d be good for both of you.”

“I see that, but let’s put me in his shoes right now.” Y/N shuffled in her seat and clasped her hands. “I’m rich. I’m British. I’m very hot. My parents throw extravagant balls for me and I kiss pretty girls that say water like ‘wota’. I’ve spent my life in silk and I only drink the finest teas. My family is so important that I had to be shipped off halfway across the world just to be safe. And now my incredibly expensive life has reached a peak because I’m sleeping with a random girl in Ohio that has run approximately 4 stop signs since I’ve met her.”

“You’re sleeping with Draco?”

Y/N turned to see Lauren, a wide-eyed, obnoxious, but well meaning girl staring at her. She heard Sylvia stifle a laugh behind her. “No. I was kidding.” The smile that she followed with was awkward and showed way too many teeth.

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren. “Do you know if he likes anyone?”

Sylvia’s smirk widened.

“No, actually, he’s a pretty private guy.” Y/N sent her another tense smile, and Lauren finally turned away.

“Jealous, huh?”

“Shut up, Vie. You know I wouldn’t go for him. Even if I had the chance.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smiled.

The afternoon brought its own set of struggles. Their French teacher had blown up at another student who had been caught cheating on their last test, and it was all Y/N could do but hold back her snickers until they were out in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe they still managed to conjugate their cheat sheet wrong.” Y/N was gasping for breath as she unlocked the car door and threw her stuff inside. Draco was watching from the passenger seat, his lips in a soft upturn. “Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

He just shook his head and turned to look out the window, but she could see the smile slowly stretching across his face. “Ridiculous. You could totally tell Monsieur enjoyed it, too. I bet he gets off on making kids like Joey cry.”

“I had a teacher like that,” he started. “He was a Poti-a chemistry teacher.”

“Oh? Did he ever attack you?”

“No. He liked me. Family friends and all.”

“Ah. I almost forgot that your family was rich and influential. Thanks for the reminder.” She reached across and lightly punched his shoulder. His smile, though still remaining, seemed to shrink. “Hey, what’s that in your bag?”

Y/N motioned to the cardstock peeking out of his nondescript black backpack that always seemed to fit more than it was meant to. She could make out a few words written in what looked like a bright red sharpie--something that did not exactly scream Draco Malfoy aesthetic.

He froze up. “Er. It’s from Heather. I think she called it a Homecoming ask?”

Y/N’s throat dried up to the point that no words would willingly make the climb from her diaphragm to her tongue; instead, she settled for giving him a little nod and what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I told her I’d think about it,” he continued. “I remember you saying that the school dances sucked. So I let her know that I wasn’t sure yet.”

She nodded again. “Super cool. You can do whatever you want, though. You can come with my group if you’d like, but you’re welcome to go with Heather’s.”

“What? So you aren’t coming with me if I go with Heather?”

“Fuck no, dude. I don’t hate her, but I would way prefer to spend a night with my friends than some girl from my French class that only talks to me because she thinks you’re hot.”

The expression Draco made reminded Y/N that he would never get comfortable with American girls calling him hot. “Ok. Have you found a date yet?”

“Chad from Econ asked me yesterday.”

“Is that why my seat was covered in glitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going with him?” Draco’s hand was clenched tight in a fist in his lap.

“I think so,” said Y/N, steeling herself and deciding to just go for it. “But, of course, if you asked me I would say no to Chad. Just out of principle. I am supposed to be your tour guide, after all.”

The only parts of him moving were the few stray wisps of his hair being pushed around by the AC going.

“But that’d be weird. I’d only expect you to take that up if you really didn’t want to go to the dance itself.” She swallowed and pulled out onto the main street, putting distance between them and the school. He was silent for a few moments. The quiet, normally comfortable between them, was stifling and strange. She pretended to ignore the way he was fiddling with his cuffs.

“Yeah, it could be,” was all he said before slumping against the window and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Y/L/N was sitting at the head of the coffee table when the two arrived home, carding between a stack of letters in front of her. The mug of something--probably that new decaf blend she hadn’t stopped raving about--was sitting lopsided on a coaster, just barely about to topple off the edge. She looked like she hadn’t moved for hours, the novel she had been previously reading sat face down to preserve the spot next to her no doubt lukewarm drink.

“Hey Mom,” Y/N said as she set her keys down. “Anything good?”

She looked up, her expression morphing from startled to happy. “Other than the college brochures? Nothing, except...hm, what’s this?”

Her well manicured hand pulled at a crimson envelope, with sloping writing that seemed to shimmer in the light.

To the Y/L/N Family, it read. The loopiness of the writing looked like it wiggled at the ends, but that had to be a trick of the light. It was dim in the kitchen during afternoons, after all.

“It looks cool, open it u--”

“No!”

Draco’s voice had never sounded so loud as it did then as he lunged across the kitchen, snatching it out of her mother’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “Er, it’s for me. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Cool, see you later,” said Y/N. She was up the stairs and slamming her door before either of her housemates could say another word. After the horrible embarrassment that was technically Draco’s rejection, she needed to be alone.

Even burying her face into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut didn’t keep the scenes from their car ride at bay. She had been so stupid, so stupid. Why did she even think he wanted that? He was her brother, after all. Oh god, does he think we’re all from Alabama or something?

She wallowed for a few more mournful minutes before deciding that she had to pick herself up and handle it like an adult. After all, she was going to be 18 in just a few months. There was no excuse for her to act like a child anymore. And, plus, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just play this off as a pity invite. Yes,that’s what she’d frame this as if he ever asked her about it again. She felt bad for him was all it was.

Once satisfied with her internal dialogue, she rolled out of bed and made for the foyer where her bag was still on the table. She’d first walk on Legos barefoot before she had to let a stupid boy--especially one that didn’t know how to turn on their shower and had to ask for her help every time--come between her and her 4.0. Never.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, when she heard a new sound from his side of the hallway. She froze, listening closely.

Draco was crying.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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dailypriya · 4 years ago

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⌠ MEDALION RAHIMI, 23, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, PRIYA DALY! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MEDICAL TRAINING; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (perfectly messy curls falling on glittering shoulders, taped up hundred dollar bills and gold chains, dress code violations). when it’s the (cancer)’s birthday on 7/15/1997, they always request their CRÈME BRÛLÉE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

𝖎 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉

death tw

ACCESS: GRANTED FILE NAME: DALY, P.; AMERICAN HEIR

Priyanka Daly grew up knowing that one day she was to inherit and run the prestigious Elizabeth Daly Foundation, a nationwide medical conglomerate based in New York City that had been around for nearly a century, named after her great-grandmother. It was one of the most respected foundations in the medical community, owning several hospitals around the US, and highly regarded. By the time Priya was born, her mother, Elizabeth Daly III was already seated at the head of the table of the board, her husband, Mark Daly (who had taken her name, agreeing that their daughter would have her mother’s and the foundation’s name) a voting member as well. The married couple were two extraordinary surgeons at the top of their respective fields, general and cardiothoracic surgery. Priya had almost no choice but to dream of being a surgeon like them one day, and to run the foundation with pride, and of course she strove toward it all her life. It was the end-goal, the only thing she could ever see herself wanting, and she grew up to work like hell for it.

Needless to say, the family had not only the money of two world-renowned doctors, but the family’s foundation. Priya, however, never took it for granted, at least not in her adolescence. She was raised to respect both her last name and the hard work that had gotten them all here today, raised to be a good girl, a respectable girl and never complain-- except for when she asked about her name.

“Why am I named Priyanka? We’re Iranian, and why can’t I be Elizabeth like you and grandma?” she’d asked at seven years old when she’d caught the discrepancy.

“My little darling, you are named after my very best friend,” her mother had told her with a ghost smile. “One of the greatest women I’ve ever known.”

“Where is she, Mama?”

Elizabeth Daly only smoothed the hair on her daughter’s head. “I’ll tell you that story some other day, sweet one.”

She believed her, because she trusted her mother with her life. As Priya grew, her mother had been her own best friend, and the person she relied on more than anyone, through childhood and adolescence alike. Her idol. In her later teenage years, though, she watched as her mother became Chief of Surgery at the hospital, and the foundation forced her to step back more and more from being a mother, working harder and longer days to give the hospital and the Elizabeth Daly Foundation her full attention. Still, she never stopped loving her daughter.

In early 2019, Mrs. Daly suffered a heart attack. Pretty cruel that one of the nation’s leading surgeons died unexpectedly in the middle of a hospital. Surrounded by doctors, sitting in a building full of medicine’s finest, there was simply nothing to be done, and not enough time to save her. It didn’t make sense to Priya, even as she processed the fact that this happened in part because she worked herself ragged, because she made her career her entire life outside of loving her daughter and husband, and because heart attack symptoms are so much harder to catch in women. What she started to feel instead of devastation was anger.

A beautiful funeral was hosted, and Priya endured kind words from almost every esteemed colleague her mother worked with, every mentor that shaped her, and every student she taught. She was loved, so loved-- that much was evident in the community around her that felt this loss at their core. But Priya wouldn’t cry with them, wouldn’t empathize, because all she could see was people that took her mother from her, people that her mother chose over her own life.

The tipping point was when she dropped out of med school. She fought with her father, she started acting out and behaving in all the ways she’d never been allowed to, feeling herself find some sort of relief in the freedom it brought. She’d stay out late drinking, partying, blowing money and maxing out her cards, though she knew she’d never run out. It felt good, like she could push and push the limits. Priya knew it was a common symptom of people who cheated death to try and chase extremes. She hadn’t been the one to come close to death, but it had affected her all the same.

After a year of her reckless behavior, her attitude and personality turning sour compared to the girl who always said yes and always tried to be the best, the foundation was more than sick and exhausted with the girl who was running their name through the mud of the streets of New York’s elite. And though secretly Priya still desperately wanted her birthright, to one day inherit the foundation, she couldn’t hide her disdain for it in turn.

Then she found her mother’s old medical journals, different ones all filled with notes on her residency as a young woman, plans for medical trials, love letters she’d drafted for her husband. It was an array of the woman she was in all her many sides. And in one of them, Priya found a photo of two young girls: one with long black curls and the same demure smile she’d always seen on her mom, another with short dark hair, brandishing a wicked grin as she held a young Elizabeth Daly close in the sunlight.

Penned on the back read, Lizzie and Priya, Gallagher ‘87, together til the end.

The page it had fallen out of described a place Priya had never heard about. She’d always known her mother had attended medical school later than usual, but she’d never known where exactly she’d been before then. And every time throughout her teens that Priya had asked about her mysterious namesake, her mother had always said, “When you’re older, darling.” She was older now, but she didn’t have her mother by her side anymore. All she had were broken dreams, a broken home, and a journal with a ticket to the last of what her mother hid from her.

By the end of the summer, she’d succeeded in following the trail to Gallagher Academy, dangling her mother’s name and the foundation’s glittery reputation in front of her long enough to get herself an entrance exam. Suffice to say, the material covered was a lot crazier than anything she’d seen in her own college and med-school exams, but Priya had managed to keep her wits about her, using her already advanced intlellect to navigate the test, part of it feeling strangely natural.

It wasn’t until her acceptance letter arrived that she marched up to her father’s office, slamming the paper down with a bitter grin, and for a moment, Mr. Daly could have sworn he was looking at the spitting image of his late wife’s best friend. Priya only stayed long enough to fight about it, to argue about ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, ‘can’ and ‘can’t’. By the end of the fight, her father could do nothing to stop her from changing her mind, but what he could do was offer a promise. If Priya saw this thing through, and graduated from her mother’s alma mater, he’d do his best to secure her place at the foundation’s board. But if she let her newly reckless behavior screw it all up, that was it. She’d be cut off for good.

“You’re on,” Priya had responded with steely confidence, once again shocking her father with her resemblance to her namesake.

The next morning, she was gone, on a plane to the school her mother had never let her know existed, but had given her both some of the best years of her life, and the woman she’d name her daughter after. Though Priya still holds so much turmoil in her heart, she wants so badly to be able to feel close to her mom again, and this might be the only way forward to do just that. Maybe spy school isn’t anywhere in the plan she’d crafted for herself at eighteen, but it beats staying in a broken home, waiting to be told she’d never inherit her family name the way she’d always wanted. And really, how hard can it be?

TL;DR - THE FACTS

Priya is daughter to two world-renowned American surgeons, also in line to inherit the Elizabeth Daly Foundation, a super fancy and huge medical conglomerate

her mother was the head of the foundation and Chief of Surgery at her hospital, both based in New York City

Priya grew up to be prim and proper, always saying yes and being the good girl

her mom was pretty much her best friend for all her life, even as her work took over she still managed to love and care for her family just as much

they’re Iranian-American, and she was named after her mom’s late best friend

in early 2019, after her mom worked her self ragged for both her jobs, she suffered a heart attack and tragically passed, forcing her father to take over the foundation

Priya knew it was because she worked so hard, that she barely took time for herself outside of others

she started to get angry, angry at the foundation for putting so much on her mom, angry at her mom for letting it happen, just angry at everything

she acted out the way she was never allowed to, starting to blow money left and right, drinking and partying, causing chaos and basically being an embarrassment to the whole foundation

eventually she found out her mom was a Gallagher alum, something that had been a secret to her all her life, so she gets herself an entrance exam

when she passes, her father gives her a promise: if Priya can manage to graduate from Gallagher, he’ll secure her place at the foundation, but if she screw it up, she’ll be cut off for good

Priya takes it on, her biggest reason for going to try and somehow be close to her mom again despite still being so conflicted and angry about everything

wild child is back to school!

let’s go lesbians!!

Medical Training major, because yeah that is the only thing she knows and she was always gonna come back to medicine eventually

reckless and rash, flirtatious and confident, a bit of a spitfire

CONNECTIONS

Nico Casiraghi: knew each other from richy-rich circles, always thought he was an ass; he’s now extra-condescending to her after she’s become such a menace and she hates him even more

Cecilia Casiraghi: also knew her before Cecilia ran away; pretty much just sees her as the ‘baby’ Casiraghi and has no idea how tough she now is

Margot Lusignan: met her at Gallagher, Priya pretty much became infatuated with her after their first meeting, definitely has the hots for her! fwb?

Jo Tran: knew her from New York; didn’t know a whole lot about her before, but now Priya thinks Jo is actually way cool

Ophelia Spencer: didn’t realize they met at the Gala, only sees her as some super rude girl who needs an attitude check!

Mary Sakamoto: the first person to really get her to smile at Gallagher; she’s been pretty happy to slowly become better and better friends with Mary

Stella Manchesi: Medical Training buds! Priya’s a little annoyed with the very casual way Stella takes on medicine, but she’s down with her anyway!

Juno Choi: knew each other from family in New York! Priya definitely thinks Juno is both super cool and considers her a good friend

Raina Virani, Beatrice Fitzsimmons, Calypso Marshall: her awesome roomies who she hasn’t allowed herself to get super close to, but she’d also fight anyone for any and all of them, do not mess with them!

(i’ve been all over the place the last two months, please dm me if i’m missing something or if you wanna plot anything!)

#abt #gallagher:intro #oh WHEW sorry this took so long i genuinely forgot after a second! ty to the admins and all of yall for bearing w me <3 #new intro graphic! the others will be updated soon weeeee #i tried for so long to do a google doc and i just cant omg yall who do are gods #ok take this im i truly cant even tell if this came out well or not snvkjn

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yesmrskarsgard-onhiatus · 5 years ago

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My Dirty Dancer Part 1 - Envy (Bill Skarsgard AU)

{Author's note - This is my first fanfiction post on here so please be nice to it <3 There are multiple parts to this so as this is the first one it might not be overly exciting but I promise it will get better! :)

I'm not entirely sure of the use of profanities during the 60's and which ones were prevalent at the time so apologies if it's not historically accurate but it is just for fun :) Enjoy!}

Next Chapter - Part 2

1963 - Riverbank Resort.

"This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine."

Under the summer sun it's easy to feel the warmth of those brilliant rays, of light granting the world new vibrant colours, softly brushing smiles upon faces and hearts. The warmth is shown in the way folks walk, the way they move. In the way their eyes dance upon meeting. People change in the summer, and usually, it's for the better.

Anyone else would've felt nervous, but it wasn't your first time at the resort. And after all, you knew most of the staff who worked there. Anyone else would've felt nervous, but over your years in the business, you had learned not to be.

You slowly stepped out of your car, a blue 1950 Buick Roadmaster. You had finally arrived at your new job in the Catskill mountains, at a resort you'd been to multiple times before - but only as a guest. Now, you were there as a dancer, newest member of the entertainment staff. You looked up to the main house, the trees which surrounded it provided welcoming shade to the holidaymakers. You walked around to the trunk of your car, opening the trunk and removing your large suitcase from the car with difficulty; it basically contained everything you owned. Sighing, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, locking your car trunk and beginning to make your way to the reception.

You approached the desk, waiting for the elderly receptionist to finish writing on her paperwork. "Miss Y/L/N? New member of the entertainment staff?" You enquired, hauling your case next to you as you watched the woman flick through the forms in front of her before nodding. "You're in cabin number 6 in the staff accommodation area. The signs will show you where to go." She handed you a key, looking down to her papers repeatedly so you knew her attention wasn't on you. "Uh...Thank you." You gave her a small smile out of courtesy, but noticed that she was already focused on her work.

After about 20 minutes of lugging your suitcase around with you, trying to follow the signs but somehow loosing your way, you finally arrived at the collection of buildings all labelled "Staff Accommodation - No Guests". You'd finally made it. Looking at your door key, you wandered along the path past multiple cabins until you found the one with '6' written on the oak door. Gently opening the door, you saw that the house was dark, and assumed that your roommate was probably having dinner, after all, it was 8:30pm. After unpacking your suitcase, you stretched, feeling the 6 hour drive to the mountains creep up on you. You needed to relax.

From your induction day after you got the job, you knew there was an area in which the entertainment staff met up, and you decided that that would be the best place to go - you may even find the few friends you knew from visiting before.

In a few minutes you'd arrived at the door to the bungalow, hearing loud music thumping from inside the room. "Hey! Y/N!" You heard a woman's voice call you from behind, and turning you see Lizzie, another dance instructor, walking up the stairs to meet you. She was an average height brunette, with a soft face but hard instructing regimes. You first met her a few years ago when you visited Riverbank Resort with your family. "Wow! Hi!" You watched her approach you, admiring her black and white dress. "Thought you were gonna be up here tomorrow! If I'd known I would've met up with you earlier." She said excitedly, grabbing your arm and smiling at you. "Let me introduce you to everyone!" She laughed, pushing the doors open to reveal a large group of people, dancing in couples to the loud music.

It wasn't what you were expecting; all the staff grinding and moving rhythmically against each other, the women's arms wrapped around the guy's necks as they gyrated into each other. The atmosphere as you entered the room was close and sweaty, but none of the staff showed any signs of slowing down. Or stopping. No-one looked out of place, and everyone was completely in the zone. Lizzie led you around the room, briefly introducing you to most of the people in the room, who were definitely more interested in their dancing than to acknowledge you. Eventually, you got pulled against a male staff member who you'd never seen before, but you easily began to dance with him, your leg pressed into his crotch as you ground your hips against his thigh. The guy you were dancing with was attractive enough, but you wanted someone who would take the lead a little more with you. But still, you moved with him, leaning backwards while lifting your leg around his waist. You looked over to Liz who was regarding the two of you with an amused smile which you reciprocated immediately - this place was unlike anywhere you'd ever been before.

Suddenly, most of the room quietened, except for the music, as the doors opened and a group of tall men entered the room, wearing black vests and trousers, with leather jackets swung over their shoulders. As you looked over to them, moving to separate from your improvised dance partner and giving him a reassuring smile, Lizzie ran up to you and grabbed your forearm, moving to whisper in your ear. "They're the other guys of the resort. The so called 'rebellious' instructors. They're all pretty unruly, but the one you need to watch out for is that one...Bill Skarsgård. He's 'had' basically all the girls here."

Your eyes turned to follow her gaze, ultimately arriving at a tall slender man, with angular cheekbones and wide eyes. It must be him. You'd never seen anyone like him before, his towering build allowing him to look down on everyone in the room. Even from across the crowd, the reverence in which people held this man was evident, as were his bright emerald eyes which pierced the room. His muscular yet slender frame intrigued you, as did the staff's reaction to his entry. It took you a few moments to realise that Lizzie was still talking to you, explaining who the rest of the group were when you only wanted to concentrate on the man in front of you. You saw him walk into the room, spending a couple of seconds with most of the women in the room, grinding against them and rotating his hips with theirs. The male dance partners welcomed him, not raising an eyebrow when their 'partners' were suddenly pulled from them. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider, as he made his way over to you and Liz, taking her hips and pulling her close to him for a few moments. With each of his movements he seemed to give each person he looked at or spoke to a slight glimpse into his heart as if everything he did came from a deep-seated passion. Then he took it away, with the demeanour of an omnipotent God. When he was finished with her, he finally looked over to you as he moved away from Lizzie, his already large eyes widening as he regarded you.

"Who's this?" He asked, leaning down to the brunette as he spoke, his eyes staying with you. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth as he waited for an answer, lighting it while his eyes glided over your body. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N. The new dance instructor." You interjected before Liz could reply, though it didn't look like she really wanted to be anywhere near him, and you eyed him as he exhaled smoke. His demeanor didn't falter for one second, his eyes never leaving yours as he processed the new information. "Mm...New instructor..." He hummed in thought before running his eyes along your body and raising an eyebrow as he seemingly made a decision. Before saying anything he grabbed your hips, discarding his cigarette on the floor and pulling you flush against him, making you gasp. "Let's see what you can do..." He whispered in your ear, pulling your arms up around his neck and letting his arm slip down your body to your thigh, grasping the inside of your leg and pulling it up around his waist. He began to move against you, the feeling making your body flush with heat. "What're you..." You whisper breathlessly, beginning to move to the beat with him. "Shhh...Just move with me..." He responded, wrapping his arms around you. This was definitely not like anything you'd done before.

#Bill Skarsgard Fanfiction #Bill Skarsgard AU #Bill Skarsgard x Reader

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whentommymetalfie · 5 years ago

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Breathe again- chapter two

-Come wander with me-

Prologue// Chapter one

Chapter summary: Tommy wakes up in a strange place and struggles to make sense of things...

Warnings: Hallucinations, nightmares, suicidal ideation

Wordcount: 3600

It’s cold.

Why is it always cold?

Might be the fog. It seems to seep in through his clothes, through his skin and settle into his bones as he wanders across the field, bare feet sinking into the cold mud. The mud sticks to him, pulling downwards and making it difficult to lift his feet. The sound of his footsteps is loud in his ears -that wet, smacking sound… And he’s been walking for so long and he’s so tired. But he has to keep walking. Doesn’t know why, just knows that he’s got to.

When he takes a breath, the fog comes in along with the air, filling his lungs until he’s cold from the inside out-

He’s tired and wants to sit down and rest. But if he does he’ll never get back up.

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

No, the mud will swallow him if he stops walking. It’s deep, and he can feel it moving somehow beneath his feet, like ripples on water. Below him, that’s all there is, yards and yards of nothing but wet, cold mud, and he only stays above it because he keeps walking if he stops it’ll suck him down. He can rest if he gets off the field -there’ll be grass where he can lie down. But his legs are so tired. Maybe he’s going in the wrong direction? It’s hard to tell with all this fog…

If he calls out for someone, perhaps they’ll answer and he’ll know if he’s walking in the right direction?

“Hello?” he calls out, voice disappearing out into the fog,. “Is anyone there?”

He’s answered with nothing but silence. Not even an echo. And he tries again

“Hello?”

More silence.

Then-

“Who are you calling for Tommy?”

The voice makes him stop in his tracks.

He can’t tell where it’s coming from, but maybe it’s coming from inside his head like all the others…

“You should’ve come to me, Tommy, now look where you are.”

He tries to continue walking, remembers that he has to, but his feet are hopelessly stuck in the cold mud, it’s sucking him downwards and the fear grips around his chest makes it feel tight, full of smoke and fog and-

“Why couldn’t you, Tommy? What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t,” he says, voice cracking. “I didn’t change my mind, I don’t know what happened-“

“Liar.”

He wants to come up with another answer. One that will make the voice happy. But he doesn’t know the answer, he never knows the answer to all the questions and the fog and the cold and the fear is making it impossible to breathe impossible to speak- He chokes out a pitiful sound, trying to call for help.

“Who are you calling for? Who would help you?”

The mud claws up his legs and he tries to move, loses foothold and falls. And the surface of the field breaks and he’s engulfed by the cold, wet dirt. It’s everywhere around him and he can’t stop the scream that erupts from his throat, but the moment he opens his mouth the mud floods in, down his throat, fills his lungs and he chokes and screams and-

“Tommy-“

Screams-

“Hey, calm the fuck down.”

Hands are shaking him. Unfamiliar hands, warm and strong and large.

“Fucks sake… You’re alright-“ The voice, unlike the hands, is familiar. And it turns softer now. “Well, alright may be overstating it, but there’s no need to be screaming, now, is there?“ There’s a slap against his face, just hard enough to break through the fog, and then the hands continue to jostle him-

He can breathe. It’s difficult, still, but the mud isn’t pressing down on his chest. Isn’t filling his mouth or throat, and he gasps frantically for air. Opens his eyes to find the field gone. In its place is a room he doesn’t recognize and-

Alfie.

Alfie is standing hunched over him, and it’s his hands on his shoulders. This is a dream too then. No, no, in dreams you don’t realise that it’s a dream. One of the voices has told him that, he thinks that it may have been Lizzie’s voice and he should trust Lizzie’s voice.

And why would he dream up an Alfie with that huge scar and glassy eye to remind him that he ruins the lives of everyone he touches?

Not a dream then but-

“Well, good morning sleeping beauty,” Alfie grunts and squeezes his shoulders once before straightening up. “Or good afternoon, rather. Took quite the nap there. Granted you’re probably due for about… fucking a hundred of those. Considering the state of you-“ More words are coming out of his mouth but they melt together into a droning buzz that pours out of his mouth and into Tommy’s ears - “-really should’ve just called someone-“ it fills his head, like wet mud or cotton and makes it heavy.

There’s soft fabric draped over him and he grips onto that. It’s real and he can touch it. He grabs onto armrest of the chair with his other hand. He can touch it, it’s real- real and there, but why is he in this strange room, and why is Alfie here?

“Don’t you remember, Tommy?“

He turns towards the voice, sees Grace there in the corner. There’s a crow on her shoulder, watching him with curious eyes.

Alfie was talking about a crow before.

When?

“-probably should drink something, mate. And eat, fuckin hell you-“ The water and the mud and the fog buzzes and rustles-

Grace tilts her head a bit to the side. “You went here because you know you could get help. I told you, remember?”

He shakes his head because he doesn’t remember- he doesn’t remember-

The crow flaps its wings and flies to sit on the bookshelf.

“You needed a way out, so you went here.”

“Tommy, oi, try to focus here- stop staring at that bird-“ Hands on his shoulders again but Grace’s voice keeps his eyes fixed on her.

“They took down all the mirrors. And took the cords from the curtains…“

A hand grasps his chin and none to gently turns his head. He’s looking at Alfie again, at that scarred face and hazy eye. But the other is sharp and boring into his.

He hears the crow flap its wings and he wants to turn around to look but the hand holding him won’t let him.

“No, no you just keep focusing on me for a bit now, mate,“ Alfie says. Tommy forces himself to release the grip on the armchair and reaches out to grasp onto the fabric of Alfie’s waistcoat. He can touch it, so it’s real.

Which means that-

“Alfie?” If he says it out loud it’ll be more real. If he can get Alfie to answer him…

“And he fucking acknowledges me! What a bloody honour, eh?” Alfie grins and tries to straighten up, but Tommy grips tightly onto his waistcoat. “Alright, not quite ready to let go yet, are you? Fine then. I’ll be a gracious host and let you hold on.”

Alfie is real. The chair he’s sitting in is real. So the room must be real too. Is this one of the rooms of the house he never uses? He doesn’t recognize it, or any of the things. Or maybe he does? It’s difficult to remember…

Why would Alfie be in Arrow House?

Outside the glass doors, he catches a glimpse of red sky. He blinks and tries to figure out what that means. A red sky can be a sign- or was that a red moon?

The sea is there.

“Yeah, sure it is,” Alfie answers, so he must’ve said something. “Glad your eyes are still working. What with me being one down, it’s good to know that between the two of us, we still got three working ones.”

“You remember when we were kids and used to swim in the cut?” He looks around to see where John’s voice is coming from, but he’s not there. “Used to pretend it was the sea, because we went there one summer with mum, but just that one time…”

There’s a sigh and Alfie crouches down in front of him.

“Hey, try to keep looking somewhat in my direction, yeah? Know this room is full of interesting things, but it’s hard to tell if you’re hearing me when you keep doing that.”

Alfie is here, Alfie is real. He can feel the warmth of his body even through his shirt. Can feel the soft material of his waistcoat against his skin. Alfie is real so he’ll listen to Alfie just like he tries to listen to Lizzie-

But he wasn’t very good at that.

That’s why they…

Why they-

“Alright since you’re obviously not all here right now, mate, let me try to remind you,” Alfie says and the thought fades from his mind before he can fully grasp onto it. “You’re in Margate, alright? In my humble abode. I found you, right, I found you on my steps early this morning, or rather, my housekeeper did. And, being an absolute idiot, I took you in instead of demanding you piss off.”

If he looks at Alfie’s mouth when he’s talking it’s easier to follow. But he’s got that beard, so it’s still not all that easy-

“After some rather unpleasant events that we don’t need to remind ourselves of, you fell asleep in this chair, and so you have remained for the last few hours, so you must’ve been absolutely fucking exhausted.”

He’s in Margate.

Why is he in Margate?

“Don’t you remember why, Tommy?” Grace asks him.

“The voices aren’t real Tommy, they’re all in your head. The things you see, too,” Lizzie always says. “Alright? They can’t hurt you and you shouldn’t listen to them. Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Wish I could’ve taken Esme and the kids to the sea-“ John is standing behind Alfie, looking at him.

“Hey, Tommy, you’re disappearing on me again-“ the warm, broad hand is back on his shoulder and he tears his eyes from John to look at its owner. He tries to focus on all the little details on Alfie’s face, the wrinkles and lines and scars. And when he looks back to where John was standing, he’s gone-

They all go, eventually they go and they come back but always out of reach, so he can’t touch them, can never be sure-

There’s a deep wrinkle between Alfie’s eyebrows and he tries to figure out what it means. Alfie’s other hand comes to rest on his shoulder too. The heat seeps in through his clothes and for a moment it anchors him to the soft chair.

“What happened to you, eh, Tom?” he says and his voice is oddly soft. “Why did you come here?”

Why did he come here?

Because all the drawers were locked and he didn’t have much time, couldn’t risk anyone finding him and the mirrors and the cords to the curtains were gone and someone is always close by-

It’s all in your head, Tommy.

How is he supposed to know if he’s remembering things right?

He hangs on to the fabric of Alfie’s waistcoat. Focuses on how it feels beneath his fingers, and only that.

“Alright, I know this wasn’t a very well received suggestion last time, but how about we call someone?” Alfie suggests. “Get you home where you belong. I think they’re better equipped to help than I am- and I do think that you need proper help-“

Help.

He needs help.

Professional help. Treatment.

The voices told him that, from behind the half closed door. Strange, that. They’re usually closer, inside his head-

But he’d heard them arrive. And it made him get out of bed.

He shouldn’t be wandering around. Lizzie worries if he disappears. But Lizzie is behind the door too, so she’s not here to worry. The voices are arguing. Angry at each other, which is strange because they’re usually angry at him. But they’re talking about him-

He shakes his head.

“Well, here’s where you lose me, Tommy, because I for one very strongly remember you trusting your family far more than they probably deserve-“

He continues shaking his head, has to make Alfie understand that he can’t, can’t go back- they’ll-

The familiar tightness around his chest is back and takes harsh breaths to make the air go down past it, but it’s so hard, because his lungs are full of mud so there’s nowhere for the air to go-

“We’d be better off without you-“

“Anyone you touch, Tommy…”

He lets go of Alfie. Squeezes his eyes shut and slams his hands over his ears despite knowing it won’t help.

The blood rushes behind his ears and he tries, tries to breathe-

Then the warm hands are around his wrists, firm and strong and despite his resistance they pull his hands down and away from his ears. He squirms but the grip is unrelenting, and it somehow grounds him.

“Fine, won’t be bringing that suggestion up again, bloody hell-“ Alfie’s voice cuts through all the others with its rumbling tone. “Point taken. I’ll leave them out of this. Think you can calm down a bit?”

He continues struggling to breathe, tries to focus on the way the rings on Alfie’s fingers dig into his skin. How the warmth of his palms seep into him.

“ ‘s all fine,” Alfie says calmly. “All you’ve got to do is breathe in and out for a bit and the scariest part will be over- It’s unpleasant but it can’t kill you, alright?”

Somehow, that firm warmth around his wrists help. The hands anchors him to reality. No one ever touches him like that, it’s all featherlight and gentle, as if they’re afraid he’ll break even more, afraid they’ll cut themselves on all the broken shards.

That’s why they want to be rid of him, because he’s broken now. There’s this hole in him in that’s opened up like a raw gaping wound and it’s just swallowing everything around it- Anything that’s good or light or decent. He’s no use to anyone, no good for strategizing or quick thinking so why should they want him around?

“If you’d only listened to me, none of this would be happening,” Grace tells him and he knows, he knows it’s his own fault

Alfie holds onto him so he can’t turn around to face her.

“Oi, eyes over here Tommy. I know I’m not the most pleasant thing to look at but that’s really the fault of the present company, so you’ll just have to live with that, won’t you? Hey-“ Alfie squeezes his wrists and tugs a little at them. His voice is firm and sure, like he knows what he’s doing. It makes Tommy want to listen to him.

Alfie looks… it’s hard to read expressions, but he doesn’t look afraid. Tommy focuses on that.

“Good, that’s good, and now we just fucking breathe. In and out and as slow as you can manage.” Alfie breathes, and Tommy tries to replicate the pattern. “In and out, that’s all there is to it. See when you breathe quickly like that you’re not actually getting any air, so that just makes the whole thing worse-“ Alfie’s mouth is still moving but the words fade at the edges, melting into incoherence. When he has to focus all his attention on just making sense of what he’s saying, all the other voices fade for a little bit. “See, you’re already doing better.”

For just a moment, the room goes oddly quiet. He can’t hear his own heartbeat in his ears anymore, or the too loud breathing. For just that one moment, even the voices have gone quiet. The only sound is the distant hush of waves crashing against the shore.

Alfie nods, pleased, and releases his writs. Tommy finds himself reaching for his waistcoat before he can process the thought. Needs to hold onto something-

“Nah, I need to stretch my legs for a moment,” Alfie says and stands up. He pushes Tommy’s hands back. “Why don’t you hold onto that blanket for a bit?”

He starts pacing slowly over the floor, picking up a pipe from a table and going about filling it with tobacco. Tommy digs his fingers into the blanket that’s draped around his shoulders, pulling it close around his neck and burying his nose in it. And with everything finally quiet for a moment, he gets time to think.

In his bedroom there was little use in thinking because each day was the same as the last and they all blurred together into a haze. But now he’s in Margate…

Why is he here?

Unless this is a dream?

No, in dreams you don’t know that it’s a dream, Lizzie reminds him. He picks at the blanket and focuses on the softness beneath his fingers.

Alfie throws a glance over his shoulder before lighting his pipe and resuming his slow walk back and forth across the floor.

“Know what Tommy, I’m in a bit of a predicament here,” he says. “Because there are things one has to ask oneself when they just find their good friend and business partner curled up on their steps and in such a state.” He nods in Tommy’s direction. “And while you were asleep I thought about it. See I’m leading a rather peaceful life out here, what with the seagulls and the ships and all that-“ Tommy stares intently at his mouth because the words are blurring again. “- has to ask oneself how the fuck you ended up here. And if, for example, your fucked up family knows you’re here? And are about to knock down my door.”

He shakes his head

He was so quiet. Very careful. Didn’t even go back for his shoes or look for his coat.

“Right. How did you get here? Because I did have Esther just take a short stroll around the grounds and there was no car in sight-“

Car. Did he take a car here? He desperately tries to remember, but it’s all just black. The last thing he can recall is the voices, the half closed door… The feeling of complete and utter panic, filling up all the way from the pit of his stomach and hitting the back of his throat. His skin bathing in cold sweat.

“You have to go, Tommy. Or do you want to be back in the tunnels again? You know they’ll listen to him. Because he’s right, and they know that-“

He shakes his head at that. No, he’s- he’s not-

“Alright, you don’t remember, I get it-“ Alfie’s voice pulls him from the hazy memory and he blinks. Tugs the blanket closer. “Let’s just leave the questions for now then. No point in asking I suppose.” Alfie is watching him, brow furrowed and fingers scratching through his beard. “I reckon you need to sleep for a bit. And drink something. And we’ll try again tomorrow. Because apparently this is also included in my new life, you know, as a God. Taking in strays that have turned up at my door.” He sucks at his pipe and his eyes rake up and down Tommy’s frame. “Yeah, you definitely need to eat something, too.”

Lizzie has stopped sighing when she sees the tray of untouched food. She has stopped expecting anything different-

“Does that sound like a reasonable plan, eh?” Alfie asks. “Oi, I’m gonna need you to nod when you understand something, even if you’ve decided that talking is below you.”

He nods. Alfie does too, looking pleased. Then he goes over to the door and pops his head out into the corridor. “Esther, could you put the kettle on again? Our guest finally decided to wake up.”

“Right away, Sir!“

Alfie must notice his confused expression when he turns back. “Esther is my housekeeper. You ought to remember her, because she did manage to make you settle down last time you had one of those-“ He waves his hand. “Episodes. What have you. She left some clothes out for you too.“ He nods to the stool by the chair, where a knitted jumper and a pair of socks lie. “Reckon you can stay under that blanket for now, though.”

Alfie sighs and sits down in the armchair opposite Tommy, leaning back and settling his hands on his stomach.

“Well, would you just look at that. Back to this again, aren’t we?” he scratches lightly over the very edge of the large scar. Sitting in silence for a moment, he studies Tommy intently and then says, “I did tell you, Thomas. Didn’t I? I saw that your state had gotten worse. And I told you that.” His eyes drift to the side of his head and Tommy lowers his gaze and turns away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a glimpse of white fabric.

“Reckon it got even worse, then,” Alfie says, oddly quiet.

“He won’t help you,” Grace says from his side. “He’s changed, so he won’t do it.”

He furrows his brow, doesn’t understand- Alfie is helping him. He doesn’t know why…

“But he is-“

Alfie makes a sound from his armchair. “What?”

Tommy looks towards him.

Alfie furrows his brow and leans forward, settling his elbows on his knees. His forehead is folded into deep creases.

“Tommy, who are you talking to?”

And he can’t answer. So instead he just looks out at the sea and the waves. The sight picks at something in all the burnt out remnants of his brain. It’s like searching for a tiny shard of broken glass that’s been buried deep in the dirt. Glass, or a landmine. All his thoughts are like that these days; tiny broken pieces that he can’t puzzle together.

But it doesn’t really matter.

He pulls the blanket a bit tighter around his shoulders.

At least he’s not cold anymore.

#alfie x tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders season 5 #tw: suicide #the blankets™ continue to play an unreasonably important role

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tvdoriginal · 5 years ago

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2x01 - I'll Never Give Up Hope

Well hello there witches!

We are back in business, so let's get started shall we?

After the recap, we flash ahead to June where all the kids are leaving for summer break. Landon is narrating and we know that he's feeling confused and lost and we all know that it's because Hope isn't here.

Well ok then. New Legacies logo-intro.

Josie and Lizzie talk about the Ascendant and Aunt Bonnie💕

Dorian and Alaric are a little tense since Ric could not count on his vote.

Ric and Landon briefly speak about Malivore and Raf.

MG and Kaleb have a good friendship talk and cheers to the best summer of their lives.

Sooo like...Landon got cuter this season??

You didn't think we weren't going to see Hope, did you?

She's in the dark and a vortex-black hole thing appeared and almost sucked her in, but of course, someone saved her. Unfortunately, it's Landon's weird ass brother.

She's disgusted obviously and says she's supposed to be in peace and then tried to conclude that she's in hell.

Malivore is still a thing and he proposes that they can still escape but she passes it up. She repeats the mimic spell from 1x16 and they part ways.

JULY

Ric won't tell Josie anything about the Ascendant which we obviously know why - Kai Parker;)

Landon is shown "killing himself" Matt Donovan style for a second time to see images of a girl - Hope. When he comes out, Josie is there.

Really feeling weird about this whole Hope-Brother thing.

Josie and Landon call each other out on their actions and decide to live a little.

Lol oops so MG has a crush on Kaleb's sister.

Oops well that's hella awkward. As Josie and Landon begin to spend more time together and develope a friendship, Raf starts getting neglected.

AUGUST

Lizzie mentions Penelope when Josie tells her about her and Landon. And ok, all of Josie's outfits are so cute wtf.

Hope and Ryan still wander Malivore and he tells her he's never been a villian. He's just a kid trying to find a way to get away from his father. In turn, she produced a calming spell which he thanks her for. Then, a monster arrives.

Hope then casts a truth spell.

Landon is freaking out over Raf not showing up for his food. Josie and Landon hug.

Hope developes a theory that she's not a true Tribrid because she's never died, so her vampire side remains unactivated. The vortex only appears after she does magic anf Malivore does not want her there as she is toxic to him. Everytime the vortex comes, that's Malivore trying to get Hope to leave and Ryan always tries to leave with her. He begs her not to leave him and promises he'll leave them all alone if he comes with her, but she tells him that she can't take that chance. Wishing him good luck, she whooshes out of Malivore.

Josie shows Landon how a locater spells work. He tells her what it's like for him when he dies underwater and what he sees.

"Are you happy?" - Landon

Ric is at a bar and the new Sherrif talks to him and Josie comes in and calls Ric a liar. She tells him she gave up her summer with mom (Caroline:)) to make sure he was okay and demands that he tell her all about the Ascendant.

When he does, she tells Lizzie all about it in a frenzie. She tells her about the prison world, Uncle Kai, and how he did the merge so he most likely has answers to their questions. Lizzie is all for going to see him, but Josie tells Lizzie that she gave the Ascendant back to Ric and then tells her about how Kai killed Jo - his own twin. I feel like Lizzie will persist when she returns. Lizzie tells Josie how extensively she's trying to get better and asks Josie to promise her that she'll make the most of the rest of the summer.

Dorian is in the middle of driving out of the school when he stops because Hope appeared. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember her (but I figured that would happen). Once he leaves, she gets in.

Inside, Josie finds Landon watching movies and Landon gets sad over Raf and how Raf doesn't wanna be here anymore and how he doesn't know how long a wolf would need a human best friend. Josie gives him a mini speech and then they kiss but obviously, Hope saw the whole thing when she was almost there. She cries, and leaves.

She goes to the bus stop - and we all know that was a special place for her and Landon. She uses the the Crystal to see Landon and they have an eventful chat as always. Sadly, she asks him if he's happy and if everyone's happier now. Landon has no words, no response. She leans her head back and cries.

"Why do you always do that? Not speak your truth?" -Kaleb

A weird ass monster showes up when the bus was coming for Hope. Line of 2x01: Oh crap.

Ryan is all vengeful and desperate to leave Malivore and tells his dad that he should be granted a second chance and to trust that he will destroy Hope Mikaelson. At the same time, someone in a red cloak is going through the Mystic Falls Cemetry and uses a spell and creates a design thing.

Yeah I don't get it, but yeah. Until next week!

Wait I hope that Hope is going to New Orleans.

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theheartofpenelope · 5 years ago

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SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter five

Chapter five - excerpt : Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on -also : the lay-out of the text-conversation is so much cleaner on AO3. But here on Tumblr it’s a bit of a mess as those specific html-outlining- inserts don’t work *perfectionistic groan* So it’s not looking ‘perfect’ here on Tumblr, I had to manually try to outline it - but I did the best I could... Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter five Amsterdam, the Netherlands

Amsterdam did not hold many secrets for Charlotte anymore. She had visited the scenic city many times before and so the site had somehow become a familiarity to her. She would never have realised that if Tom hadn’t requested her to send him some pictures of the Netherlands’ capital.

Yes. Tom.

His first message came as quite a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. And Charlotte gladly obliged to the kind wish of this man who had kept his word and sent her some not-so-touristy addresses she ought to visit while in Hamburg and Berlin - her next destinations.

Charlotte’s phone shots mostly consisted of her favourite sights such as the bridges over the breath-taking canals, boats, strings of light bulbs lighting up pop-up summer bars in the park and the beautiful restored architecture that took her breath away as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes upon it. Thank you Tom for reminding me of this.

The Convention didn’t take up much of her time for a change. Charlotte gladly took the opportunity to stop by the floating flower market for some fresh flowers, and browse through one of her favourite flea markets where she picked up a few books before boarding the intercity train home later that afternoon.

With her new acquisitions all packed up, Charlotte strolled down to the Central Station. Upon entering the building, that felt more like the ‘arrivals and departures’- scene at any given airport, she walked passed some colourful shops. She hopped in one to get herself a refreshing drink for the ride home and upon queueing at the cash register, her eyes scanned over the headlines of the international press that was presented there. One specific title in big bold letters called out to her. A tabloid read out in bold red print : ‘Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery woman’.

Charlotte laughed a little louder than planned as she detected the picture showcased in fact his publicist’s intern. She shook her head in amusement; was this the man she was currently sending touristy pictures to? Felt a bit silly really…

Charlotte couldn’t deny that over the start of the summer her life had somehow taken an unexpected and bizarre turn. While her professional life had continued to overshadow her private life, she did seem to have found a somewhat manageable and unique balance between the two.

In the sense that she would combine her professional obligations at conferences abroad with some extra me-time. She would try to extend her stay as far as time or reason allowed, so she could go and explore the cities and come to herself before starting all over again somewhere else.

In her head her plan seemed picture perfect, in reality she came to realise she really ought to prepare these kinds of visits just a little bit more. Tom’s tips came in more than handy here… She caught her lips curving into a smile.

Stop it! Silly girl...

Up until now Charlotte had managed to keep her head on straight, regardless of her hectic schedule. She was tired but ambitious, worn-out at times but always remained curious and anxious for what came next. And then came London... the visit that shook her up a bit. It felt as if the carpet had suddenly been pulled out from under her feet. Metaphorically she’d stumbled at first, taken quite the fall nevertheless but then got up again, feeling quite unsure and apprehensive. It had been a dizzying 72 hours, but equally exhilarating nonetheless.

Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well. So before Charlotte was good and well aware ‘Lizzie’ had her all set up for a blind date later that night.

Charlotte did her best not to take any offence in Lizzie’s sudden matchmaking extravaganza - lord knows how long she’d been pushing the matter - but decided to ‘just go with it’.

Charlotte switched her phone into flight mode as she boarded the train. She had a thing with flight mode. The thrill of being able to cut out all outside intrusions was one she often indulged in. And right now she had opted to treat herself to some lounge music while reading. With two hours to kill, it seems the perfect getaway from reality.

She settled in her seat, earphones plugged in, loungy music on and one of her new acquirements resting in her hands. She admired the mysterious cover for a while. It was a book Tom had highly recommended to her. Intrigued, she curiously delved in.

WIthin no less than a dozen pages, to her greatest surprise, the words struck home to both Charlotte and her wounded heart.

“Even though I complain sometimes it (his heart) said, it’s because I am the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams because they feel they don’t deserve them, or that they won’t be able to achieve them.

Many years ago Charlotte had lost her heart to a man. Well, a boy still when they’d first met. And she’d treasured him just as much as he had treasured her. They had gone through so much together; they left the university-benches together and dived headfirst into their professional lives. And while they took their time to search where their respective professional futures lay, they wasted no time on their personal future and got married. She’d truly followed her heart.

Fairly soon he was on his road to success, while Charlotte struggled. They bought a flat with a breath-taking view over the park but by then the marriage was already in heavy weather...

Charlotte’s stomach turned into a knot as the narrative in the book went on.

"We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away, or of moments that could have been good, but weren’t, or treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen we suffer terribly.”

You see; back then, in her professional life Charlotte had only faced glass ceilings and struggled with the balance between professional and private life. A struggle her husband had failed to see or recognize.

Evidently work demanded they would started moving in different circles, networking, meeting new people, investing. He had to put in crazy hours, there was no energy left for other struggles. And Charlotte definitely felt like a struggle he wanted to do without. Or one he could do without.

It astounded her really. After all, they had overcome so much together; she always thought their relationship had a solid foundation that could resist any type of storm. But somehow, in this phase of their lives, she felt as if their marriage was built on nothing more than a children’s floaty. Whimsical, terrifyingly unpredictable. To make matters worse, in his opinion there was only room for one career in a marriage. Charlotte begged to differ but for the sake of her marriage she gave up trying to pursue more , thinking it would make her happier and by result him as well. Only it didn’t.

She wasn’t suffering though, not anymore , Charlotte thought. With pain in her heart, she had to accept the crumbling of their relationship, their understanding and ultimately their love. She had fought and sacrificed, alas it takes two to tango and their paths lay so far apart now. Closing the door on her marriage, she closed off the door to love in general. Although the divorce was ultimately somehow a mutual decision; that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He had been a part of her past and present, but sadly no longer held her future and that insight hurt. Those who say infidelity hurts the most, meet ‘indifference’; the very close runner up!

"My heart is afraid it will have to suffer,” said the boy.

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams because every second of the search is an encounter with God….”

Charlotte had turned her focus now solely on her professional life where all of a sudden – to her a delight - a glass ceiling started showing subtle cracks. She grasped the opportunity with both hands, diving into work and research at full speed, ignoring all else.

Her wings had been clipped in the past, she felt she owed it to herself to open them up now and fly. Far, far away. And she dreaded the day (or the person) who would even try to confine her again.

It caused her an occasional lecture from her best friend Lizzie, but was it clear to outsiders as well that she had closed herself off like this? Or was Tom’s recommendation of this particular book just a happy – albeit freakishly strange - coincidence?

Cracking open the door to my heart wasn’t enough; must you take down the entire façade as well?

Realising the answer to this question was irrelevant she immediately engrossed herself further in the book. Charlotte felt tears stinging as the chapter went on. Before she knew it, she was halfway along the book when the train halted at her destination. She left the train with a heavy heart, an emotional wound but a regained insight. She shook her head and tucked her new favourite book in her purse.

2. It had to be said : Charlotte was pleasantly surprised that she was greeted with a very charming man that evening.

Well done Lizzie!

He was tall and dressed to the nines, with dark hair, piercing green eyes and a handsome smile to match. She had an inkling he knèw he had charm, but she was not yet sure if he played that card.

He turned out to be both charismatic and intelligent. Charlotte had to fight her inner cynic who immediately wanted to find out what was ‘wrong’ with him in order for him to be single, temporarily forgetting he might as well have the same reservations towards her.

They shared appetizers while talking about the current heat wave, the local news, bits and bobs. It was mildly entertaining, at least as far as anxious blind dates can go. It would seem a lovely dinner would ensue.

The man was athletic, which made him easy on the eye however not on the mind. It started when dinner was ordered and gluten was off limits. “Not allergic,” he elaborated, “but bad for my physique.” Charlotte however gladly indulged in a homemade Sicilian pasta stew. It wasn’t meant as a rebellious act, she was simply a not-so-secret foodie.

We’re on the fence here, ladies and gentlemen, but let us not jump to conclusions…

When the topic of interest came up, it was clear they could not have been more divers and while in her mind that thrilled her, she found he held no remote interest in her hobbies. In fact; he was quite opinionated. She may have been as well, but isn’t there some sort of grey zone? Or the illusion of politeness for starters?

Strike 1.

He considered art as overrated and too pricey. While Charlotte could agree on the financial matter, but ‘overrated’? Seriously? He considered literature old and stuffy, and commented along the lines of “honestly who reads these days.”

Strike 2.

Also, he left his smartphone on the table during the entire dinner and wasn’t too shy to check it at times. Hel-lo?

Strike 3.

Charlotte had learned long ago to be honest about her desires and so by the end of dinner, after the coffee and the dessert, when he suggested drinks at a wine & lounge bar, she politely refused. She was knackered and the foresight of spending more time going through pointless conversation frustrated her.

She kindly bid her farewell and at his attempt to a ‘let’s do this again maybe’ Charlotte carefully added she did not see any point in that. Kind as he might have been. She was met with a surprised reaction. Apparently he did not expect an answer as honest as this, even though he did feel the same.

Was it not ok to just step forward and say things like this, then?

Clearly he wasn’t a feminist either. Or was she just high maintenance?

You’re out!

On her walk home, Charlotte unmuted her smartphone. At least shé had the common sense to zone out outside distractions during her date. As expected Lizzie had already dropped several lines to her. And Charlotte was about to – and very gingerly so – elaborate on the horror-date, “ 3 hours down the drain, did I rush home for this ?” when she made another, more pleasant, discovery.

Tom had replied to her Amsterdam snapshots. It instantly lifted her mood to read her pictures had brought ‘joy to his heart’ before going on to share an equally amusing as eloquent anecdote on his day. Clearly a man who reads , the devil on her shoulder fired back to her long-gone date.

After London, Charlotte had adjusted his name on her contact list to the more fitting ‘Instigator Tom’. She grinned as they exchanged some messages back and forth. As it appeared Charlotte wasn’t the only one who had suffered a lousy end to a promising evening; Tom had gone through a crappy day as well. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she carefully informed him :

I started reading ‘The Alchemist’<<

>>And? Your thoughts so far?

There was this quote that I cannot shake…<< ”You will never be able to escape from your heart.<< So it's better to listen to what it has to say”<< So tonight, I listened to it.<<

Tom’s lips curved into a smile while he tapped on his phone that that was undoubtedly a very wise decision on her behalf. Although he did sympathise for her date gone wrong. He chuckled out loud when Charlotte swiftly countered with a “you should be, it’s all your fault really - recommending that book and all…” And he gladly and sincerely apologized to her.

To his surprise her date turned out to be a blind date, and before he was well aware he had sent out :

>> So, it was a ‘blind’ date? Forgive me for saying, but you don’t strike me as the type who would need a set-up?

I’ll take the compliment ;-) <<

So Charlotte had went on a date, a blind one at that. While Tom wanted to think 'good for her', his mind fixated on 'single'. Truly, he wanted nothing more than to bond with her on the difficulties of dating but found himself lacking for any decent answer in that department because he simply did not date. Not anymore.

Long gone were the days were he would (or could) just go out and strike up a conversation with a woman and see where it went. He wasn’t around long enough to let anything flourish, let alone bloom. Not at all. When he wasn’t working, his days or evenings were filled with press tours, interviews, premiers, gala's. Maybe an occasional party. But the essence of it all was always exactly the same. Someone would pull on his sleeve, demanding him to ' come and meet someone' . Someone in his line of work, someone up and coming, someone he should definitely rub shoulders with. Meet so and so. Talk, discuss, network. At times it really wàs lovely and interesting. But the horrible truth of the matter remained that Tom was living by his work schedule and not by his heart. A very conscious decision he’d made many years ago, that had somehow turned into a grueling reality these days.

So he replied to Charlotte in the only way he could, by truthfully confiding in her and sharing the loneliness of the ‘picture perfect actors’ behind the spotlights.

Thank you for saying that. However, I find this very doubtful… <<

>> It is the truth though, I’m afraid.

He hesitated for a moment, before daring to question her :

>> You’ve not been dating long?

No. Just easing into it again. (Peer pressure)<< It’s been a while…<<

Tom unknowingly bit his lower lip, subsequently running his tongue over it while he wondered how he could diplomatically find out more without seeming crass or rude. Did she suffer from a bad break-up? To his surprise she very easily and clearly admitted that the only thing she ‘suffered from’ was a lonely divorce.

A divorce?

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head when Tom apologized via text - as if he had anything to do with her marital status… A short text of his followed asking her what had happened and then a third one; another apology because he reasoned his asking was ‘probably rather indiscrete’.

She was unaware that a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she delved deep into her thoughts before typing out:

That’s all right. I guess ‘life’ happened?<< Feels like failure though.<<

Or the death slot on the goose board. Back to square one.<<

(can’t believe I just said that)<<

Goes to show, I’m damaged goods. Steer clear ;-)<<

Her answer came out in a series of separate texts. The obvious proof her mind was still processing somewhat. Tom’s benevolent reply that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, warmed her heard. After all, he reasoned “Sometimes it’s nice to start over? Or heal.”

So they say… <<

Dot. End of the line.

Charlotte kept silent after this. Nothing more was to be said on the matter, was there? In London, Tom thought long and hard about a decent reply… In his heart he felt he could not end this conversation on those last words of her.

>> If memory serves me well, the book also says : “Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart.”

Charlotte smiled to herself as a text followed in which he reasoned “we’re not meant nor made to be alone” and that her peer pressuring friends are right in pushing her forward after nearly a year on the bench. “Someone to talk to late at night, Someone to cuddle, … not to be underestimated!”

He shook his head to himself when he caught himself typing that the end of a marriage isn’t the be all - end all. And while he fervently dreamed he would never have to experience a divorce first-hand, sometimes it was simply the right thing to do. If only you handled it well. In which case he referred to his parents and the toll it could possibly take on the young children involved. But Charlotte had no children, she was young enough to start over. And there is no harm in that.

Now this is some very cheap therapy , a mirthless grin at his own expense.

>> Not all storms come to disrupt your life, Charlotte, some come to clear your path.

A pause.

>> Besides, there’s always the prison-slot. Just a time-out until someone sets you free.

… isn’t that a Sting song?<<

>> Avoiding the point Charlotte..

:-) << Thank you for recommending the book to me though.. <<

>> I hold it close to my heart. I had a feeling you might appreciate it as well.

Charlotte heaved a content sigh and confessed that, indeed, all she wanted to to was to get home and finish the book. To her surprise he correctly guessed she would and should just do that in her garden. Good memory, young man. Bonus points for you.

She agreed with him and shared her intent of making a fresh mint tea first. Because when you read in the garden at night, this was the only way to do it right. He chuckled to himself and confessed how much he could relate to that.

Their conversation ended with wishing the other a good night and the promise of more book recommendations.

Placing his smart phone away, Tom reminisced on the sneak-peak he’d gotten of her heart and it was not what he had imagined it to be. In his eyes she was intelligent, beautiful and carefree. He never considered her broken hearted. Goes to show everybody hides behind a façade, he realised. It made him like her just a little bit more.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #simple-things

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salvatoreschool · 5 years ago

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Did Legacies' Matt Davis Spoil A Ton Of What Happens To Alaric And Hope In Season 2?

I think he did. The headline, I mean. I think The Vampire Diaries alum Matt Davis (Alaric Saltzman) just went ahead and dropped major spoilers for what's ahead in Legacies Season 2. Granted, he may have added a few things here and there. We won't know for sure until October 2019.

Matthew Davis was just at San Diego Comic-Con, and sat down at the press round tables for a game of "Maybe/Maybe Not." I already dove into what he said about Alaric's twin daughters Josie (Kaylee Bryant) and Lizzie Saltzman (Jenny Boyd), heavily hinting to their uncle Kai Parker (Chris Wood) and how that Vampire Diaries character could be introduced in Legacies Season 2.

But let's go back to what Matt Davis said about Alaric and Hope Mikaelson. It's hard to know what to believe, but the part at the start about Alaric not being headmaster anymore in Season 2? He said the same thing in a video interview with Extra, next to Hope actress Danielle Rose Russell. In that same Extra interview, he also repeated the stuff about possibly getting a new love interest in the new sheriff in Mystic Falls.

Matt Davis seemed to get a dirty look off-camera after that, maybe going too far with spoilers, but he went a lot further during the press round tables, so keep it all in mind. Here's how Davis started his Maybe/Maybe Not spiel when it comes to what's next for Alaric in the 2019-2020 season, picking up from the Legacies Season 1 finale:

“Alaric's been voted off the island, right, at the end of Season 1. He's been kicked out, and so we'll find him now months later, summer break coming to a close. He's been on sabbatical, he's grown out his beard, his hair's grown wild. And he may be butthurt by the fact that the vote didn't go his way. He may have thought he would have been kept on as headmaster, but he's no longer the headmaster”.

Believable. Legacies Season 1 did end with Alaric putting his own fate as headmaster up for debate. Also, during a Comic-Con video with TVLine, Julie Plec said the first episode of Legacies Season 2 would start at the end of the last school year, and then they'd do a quick passage-of-time through summer in Mystic Falls before picking up right before the new school year. That does seem to track with what Matt Davis was teasing. Here's how Davis continued his own SDCC roundtable talk, which CinemaBlend attended:

“So in between jobs, he's looking for a new job, and he may or may not become principal for Mystic Falls High School. And there may or may not be a headmaster replacement for him in the Salvatore School. This replacement may or may not be actually on the level. This new headmaster may see the kids and their powers differently than Alaric does, and this new headmaster may or may not want to remove all the restrictions that Alaric was putting in place to protect them from themselves. And this new headmaster may or may not encourage the students to do things that Alaric would never encourage them to do. And this may or may not lead them in the best place”.

Boy am I already tired of the may or may nots, but if Alaric is no longer headmaster -- which is a believable next step -- then the Salvatore School would need someone new (unless Caroline finally returns, for heaven's sake -- it's your school, lady). I can buy the new headmaster being some supe-friendly, who potentially leans more toward the Voldemort end of things.

Also, with Alaric as the (possible) new principal at Mystic Falls High School and replaced by this new headmaster at the Salvatore School, Matt Davis said we may (or may not) reignite the high school rivalry and have another football game. The Vampire Diaries has a long history with Mystic Falls High School football, and you'll remember the Salvatore vs. Mystic Falls flag football game of Legacies Season 1. That's an annual tradition, so it would make sense to see it again.

Matt Davis has talked about wanting Alaric to find a love interest. He has the worst track record from The Vampire Diaries, and that bad luck continued into Legacies when he started making a move on Emma Tig (Karen David) right when she started dating Dorian Williams (Demetrius Bridges). Emma is now on a leave of absence from the school.

However, Matt Davis said something about Alaric maybe getting a new love interest who may be the new sheriff in town. That led reporters to joke that the new love interest is Matt Donovan (Zach Roerig), another character from The Vampire Diaries who showed up early in Legacies Season 1 as the sheriff in Mystic Falls.

If this new love interest scoop is true -- and he did repeat it to Extra on camera -- what happens to Sheriff Matt Donovan? Does he leave town? Get fired? Who is the new sheriff in town? That should be an interesting casting announcement.

Now on to how Alaric and Hope supposedly cross paths very early in Legacies Season 2, per more juicy details from Matt Davis:

“We may or may not find Hope locked in the Malivore pit at the beginning of Episode 1, and maybe by the end of Episode 1 she may get out of the Malivore pit. Maybe. She may or may not be wandering through Mystic Falls after she gets out, having been completely erased from everyone's memory, so she's a total stranger that no one recognizes. Maybe a monster got out of Malivore and she's in the process of tracking it down, in spite of the fact that no one remembers who she is. And she may or may not run into Alaric who is also tracking down the same monster. And they may or may not cross paths in pursuit of the same monster. And Alaric probably doesn't recognize when he runs into her. And she may or may not construct a whole identity to give to him, since he doesn't remember who she is. They may or may not partner up to track down these monsters in spite of the fact that he doesn't know who she is”.

Now my head is spinning. Hope already out of the Malivore pit by the end of the first episode? That I would not have expected. We already knew she'd be erased from everyone's memories, wherever she is. Interesting that Alaric and Hope may -- or may not -- end up tracking the same monster. What about Ryan Clarke (Nick Fink)? There's no mention of him here, but Julie Plec had said Hope and Clarke would have a dynamic akin to Bonnie and Damon from The Vampire Diaries.

During Julie Plec's Comic-Con talk with TVLine, she mentioned writing new brother and sister characters who are local to Mystic Falls and they will both have crushes on Hope in Legacies Season 2. So add those two characters to Hope's long list of admirers. Not sure what it means for her own true love Landon Kirby (Aria Shahghasemi) but I have to assume they find their way back to each other at some point.

It's hard to really know how much of this to believe. Did Matt Davis really just sit down and tell reporters every detail from the first two episodes? Because he did add at the end that all of that may or may not happen in the first two episodes. That is kinda believable, since the writers just started working on Legacies Season 2 in June, with production just starting two weeks ago, and the cast just starting filming this Monday, July 22. During the Extra interview, Davis and Danielle Rose Russell said they had read the first four episodes of the 20-episode Season 2 by that point.

There are some things we don't have to guess about. For example, that crazy new vampire coming to Legacies Season 2? He has been cast, and apparently he will indeed be a new love interest for Lizzie. Jenny Boyd said the early scripts for Legacies Season 2 were blowing her mind, and she also said during Comic-Con that the Season 2 premiere mentions Lizzie visiting Caroline. That may be all we get from Caroline (Candice King) in the first few episodes, with no actual on-screen appearances yet, but give it time.

Legacies Season 2 will premiere Thursday, October 10 on The CW. If the new love sheriff/love interest thing for Alaric is true, stay tuned for casting on that front.

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missameliep · 6 years ago

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The Pursuit of Happiness - Chapter Ten: With a little help from my friends (Part 1)

Book: Desire & Decorum (AU - Alternate universe) Word count: 4.838 (entire chapter) Notes: First, English is not my native language and it’s been a long time since I last wrote this much. So, if there are mistakes, let me know. I will appreciate the feedback. Second, it’s my first fanfic and I was going to write a short story, one scene, but the story got longer and there are a couple more chapters… Just wanted to share it. Characters belong to Pixelberry and I am just borrowing them. ;)

This chapter became so much longer than expected, but I hope you can enjoy it.

Tumblr keeps sending me these messages that something is wrong with this chapter original post. Maybe it’s too long, so I divided it in two parts. Hope it solves the problem.

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag list: @pixieferry @williahmagala @dianalend @elinechoices

Briar was tying Elizabeth’s corset while Ms. Anabelle Parsons was pacing around Elizabeth’s chambers, clearly agitated. Her arms crossed over her chest and her right hand fidgeting with the hem of the left sleeve of her dress.

“Why did it take her so long to tell you about his threats?” Ms. Parsons asked.

“I really don’t know. I thought it was odd that she would wait until now… Yet I don’t believe she’s lying, if that is your concern.” Elizabeth said.

“If only she would have said something before… It would have granted us the time to investigate and do so much more.” Ms. Parson said, shaking her head.

Elizabeth was looking at her, curiously, as she has never seen her friend so agitated. Not even when Viscount Westonly was about to propose to her she seemed so upset as she does now. She saw as Ms. Parsons stood by the window, her gaze drawn to something outside.

“It’s not raining now. We could go outside.” Ms. Parsons suggested.

“Why would we go outside? It shall rain again soon…” Elizabeth said, while Briar helped her with her dress and smiled at them both.

Ms. Parsons walked towards Elizabeth as Briar finished tying a ribbon on the black dress’ back.

“You’re all set, Lizzy.” Briar said and walked towards the vanity, placing a comb and some pins back in a drawer, she was amused by their interaction. Even though Elizabeth was still glooming this morning, it was clear that Ms. Parsons could help lift her spirits.

Ms. Parsons leaned and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “We could speak in private and strategize.”

“We could speak here as well…” Elizabeth said.

“What if anyone listens to us? It wouldn’t be wise to risk having Countess Henrietta eavesdropping by your door and learning our plans… Besides, my voice carries when I am infuriated!” Ms. Parsons whispered.

“You could try to speak lower, Anabelle. Whisper even, as you are doing this exactly moment.” Elizabeth said and tried to stifle a giggle.

“I cannot control my anger, my friend. Or my voice, for that matter.” Anabelle said, the corners of her lips turned upwards. “And I would enjoy walking outside, seeing the garden… I think you would enjoy it too.” Ms. Parsons said, tilting her head and looking straight to Elizabeth’s eyes making her “puppy eyes”.

“All right. We’ll go outside for a moment. You know I can’t say no to the “puppy eyes”.” Elizabeth shook her head and giggled despite herself.

Ms. Parsons was wearing a white summer dress, with a dark green wool shawl over her shoulders, while Elizabeth had a black dress and a dark grey wool shawl. They walked side by side, and Ms. Parsons missed the colourful clothes her friend used to wear. The black made her look even paler and sadder, she thinks, a constant reminder of what she has lost. She is aware of how the mourning rituals work and how strict are the rules, but if she could, she would spare Elizabeth from all of them. In fact, if she really had the power, she would prevent her from all this great suffering she’s experiencing and all that shall be coming soon. Unfortunately, she can’t. All she can do is to be by her side and try to avoid this dreadful marriage prospect.

“We need something on the Duke so outrageously scandalous, that the Dowager Countess would have no other choice but to cancel the engagement. It must be something huge and it must be made public for all to see. You will have to disgrace him, Elizabeth.” Ms. Parsons said as they walked past the rose garden.

“What kind of scandalous facts are you thinking about?” Elizabeth asked.

“Anything at all. For instance, it would be very helpful if the Duke has had a secret wedding in the old days…” Ms. Parsons replied with a smirk.

Elizabeth thought about Mrs. Sinclaire’s affair with the Duke, “I may know something. But it’s somebody else’s secret and it happened a long time…”

“We shouldn’t expose someone else’s secret if it would do them harm. We’ll think of something.” Ms. Parsons said, reassuringly.

“I know nothing else, except that he’s a man that don’t control his urges. You have seen him at the Opera… I don’t think I was the first one.” Elizabeth sighed.

“I believe you are right. If only we had more time…” Ms. Parsons said, rubbing her hands together.

“What other ideas did you have, Anabelle?” Elizabeth asked.

“You and Prince Hamid could elope! It would be the perfect solution!” Anabelle exclaimed.

“I don’t think we could. That’s the reason I was angry with Hamid: he refused to take me with him when I asked. I don’t think he would elope… He was extremely concerned I would lose my claim over Edgewater…” Elizabeth said, her eyes wandering over to the lake. Everywhere she looked around Edgewater made her reminisce about him and their happy moments. Right now, so close to the lake, she remembered their first kiss and she could almost smell his scent in the air, a mix of spices and citrus.

Ms. Parsons looked at Elizabeth’s sad eyes and remembered how much she mistrusted the Ottoman Prince at first. She’d heard gossips about him and saw how forwardly he acted towards Elizabeth, his presence even made her jealous a few times, if she must admit it. Even though she’s not the naive country girl many might think, Ms. Parsons was afraid he would mislead her with false promises and break her heart. Unexpectedly, he became enamoured with this captivating lady. But why wouldn’t he? It’s understandable how easy it can be to love Elizabeth…

“I think I have misjudged Prince Hamid… I used to think he was a charmer that was merely paving his way to take liberties with you…” Ms. Parsons confessed, her eyes fixed on her entwined hands. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink for stating it out loud.

“You did?” Elizabeth said with eyes wide.

“Yes, I did. And it seems I was mistaken…” Ms. Parsons replies.

“You don’t like him?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t dislike him, I do consider him an agreeable man… I was simply very much afraid he would hurt you.” she said and touched Elizabeth’s arm. “But he was brave enough to ask your hand to the Dowager Countess, which means that he became truly enamoured with you. And it made me realize I was wrong about him.” Ms. Parsons said and bent down, took a pebble from the ground, and threw it across the water. It skipped three times before sinking to the bottom of the lake.

“He must really care about you, if he worries about your well-being.” Ms. Parsons said, looking her in the eyes.

Elizabeth nodded and also took a small rock from the ground and skipped it. It bounced off the water four times and disappearing underwater.

Ms. Parsons could see the cloud in her eyes as she silently stared at the lake, and decided to change the subject, “I thought about your idea of leaving for Grovershire… If you ran away and no one would find you, the Duke would probably jilt you. But there are risks, once you were already engaged, it could cost your family part of Edgewater’s fortune, might he go to court.”

“Go to court?” Elizabeth asked, mouth ajar.

“Yes, he could. Due to the breach of promise of marriage.” Anabelle replied with a serious tone.

“Oh, I didn’t know a man could do that too! On the books it’s always the other way around…” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“It’s not common, especially among noblemen. But the Duke is a vindictive man. And a very possessive one as well. No matter what we do, you should be very careful, Elizabeth.” Anabelle said and grabbed Elizabeth’s hand in hers.

“I will try, but sometimes I get so infuriated with him and this whole situation, that I cannot hold control of my own tongue…” Elizabeth said.

“You will have to restrain that urge.” Ms. Parsons said.

Elizabeth exhaled and nodded. Her friend was right. They sat at the bench near the lake. Both women staring at the distance. Grey clouds covered the entire sky and there was no sun. A cold breeze blowing leaves from the threes, spreading them all around the ground.

“As much as I was pleased with many of the changes in my life this last few months, sometimes I miss Grovershire and the simpler lifer. I am truly grateful for having known my father, even for a short while, and it filled my life with joy having wonderful people like yourself in my life…” Elizabeth smiled at Ms. Parsons.

“I was very pleased to meet you too, my friend.” Ms. Parsons said and smiled at her.

“I can’t help but think: if I were still Elizabeth Thompson, there would be no engagement being forced upon myself. My mother would never do something like that to me! If only…” she sighed.

Ms. Parsons placed a hand over Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“You will have to remain strong, Elizabeth. If you do want to go back to Grovershire, you will also need a plan. Do you know how much your father granted you in his will?” Ms. Parsons asked.

“I actually don’t. There are some clauses and conditions that must be fulfilled… I couldn’t figure out exactly my share since I don’t know the revenue from the tenants…” she paused, “Prince Hamid recommended that I engaged the services of Mr. Konevi. He’s a barrister and he could help me with the legal questions. I consider speaking to him as soon as I go back to London.” Elizabeth said.

“You should do that.” Ms. Parsons said, a serious look on her face. “If you do marry the Duke, he will control your finances, therefore, he will control your life entirely.”

Elizabeth nodded, looking dismayed. She acknowledged that and merely mentioning it made her shiver.

“Being a spinster might not be the awful fate people believe, once you consider the cruelty behind the marrying market towards women… Marriage could be a prison depending on the husband.” Ms. Parsons mused, “If you don’t marry anyone and control your own fortune, you could have a different life, maybe one like the one you imagined before becoming lady Elizabeth. A simpler one.”

“I am not afraid of being alone. The idea of marrying someone so hateful, that what frightens me.” Elizabeth said, arms folded tightly around her chest. “It would be easier, if I was granted a trust fund from father. But even without one, I would leave. I would part empty-handed and penniless if it would mean not marrying the Duke. But I would miss the friends I gathered these last months. You, especially, I would miss you greatly, Anabelle.” Elizabeth said, looking her friend in the eyes, tears welling up her eyes.

Ms. Parsons considered her and her words for a moment. And soon the corners of her mouth turned up and she was grinning.

“I could leave too. We could run away together! You don’t desire to marry the Duke, and I wish to marry no one.” Annabelle said beaming.

“You would follow me?” Elizabeth asked, her gaze fixed on the other woman’s expression.

“My family would be very upset with the idea, of course, but I can’t see myself marrying any man. I… I prefer to remain single and control my finances and my destiny. It won’t be a life of leisure and luxury, but it would be a freer one. Can you imagine how wonderful it would be? We could live in your cottage and spent the summer by the creek you told me about. We would go to the village run errands together…” Ms. Parsons said.

“We would buy fresh produce from Mr. Danforth and we could bake apple pies. And it would be so good to see Mrs. Daly again.” Elizabeth mused, the corners of her lips turned upwards.

“Two old spinsters living alone and controlling their own destiny… Oh, it would be delightful! We should definitely have dogs!” Ms. Parson clapped her hands, enthusiastically. The widest grin on her face.

“And a cat. I would love to have one!” Elizabeth smiled.

“What kind of cat?” Ms. Parsons asked.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth said with eyebrows raised.

“There are many different breeds of cats …” she eyed her amused.

“Oh, I didn’t know that… I haven’t thought much about it, I must admit.” she giggled, “I yearn for a furry cat that would play with me and a string, one that would lie on my lap when I was reading.”

“All right. We should have two dogs, so my pug Rosie would have a friend, and a cat, that would curl up on your lap.” Ms. Parsons said.

“And what would we do in Grovershire if I may ask? I am not a seamstress as accomplished as my mother was.” Elizabeth asked.

“I could paint. And you…” she paused considering her friend for a moment, “You could write novels!”

“Write? But I am no writer!” Elizabeth shook her head.

“I have seen you writing on that notebook of yours…” Ms. Parsons teased and nudged her side.

“It’s a journal.” Elizabeth said, waving her hand dismissively.

“You’ve sent me letters and they are very well written. One could say they’re a piece of literature…”

“Who would say that?” Elizabeth asked, eyebrows raised.

“I would! You can write, I am certain of that. You could be the next Jane Austen!” Ms. Parsons exclaimed.

“What would I even write about?” Elizabeth asked, grinning.

“You could gather a lot of inspiration from your own life. You could write a piece about a young lady who falls in love with a dashing foreign prince and all the struggles they must face until they can finally be together. You already have the villains too: an old petty Duke, a wicked stepmother, an egoistical grandmother… And, of course, the heroine’s best friend, the witty and handsomest woman anyone has ever seen that would always be by her side.” Ms. Parsons said and they both laughed.

“Maybe I’ll be a writer after all… the story is practically writing itself!” Elizabeth chukled.

They laughed so much at the idea that soon they were gasping for air. Elizabeth was shedding tears due to all the laughing.

She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath and said, “You know, if I did run away, I could never go to Grovershire. At least not right away… That would be the first place anyone would look for me.” Elizabeth sighed as she had to face the unpleasant reality.

“Yes, I know that… But it was nice to imagine this life we could have…” Ms. Parsons said, feeling a lump in her throat too large to swallow down.

“It was indeed…” Elizabeth sighed and lay her head on Ms. Parsons shoulder. They remained silence for a while.

“May I ask you something, Elizabeth?”

“You can ask me anything, Anabelle.”

“Since your grandmother refused Prince Hamid’s proposal, would you accept to marry someone else in order to escape the Duke?” Ms. Parsons asked.

Elizabeth pondered for a while, searching her mind and her heart for an answer.

“There’s only one man I wish to call my husband… But, I think I might accept another proposal, may it come to it, because I cannot and I shall not marry the Duke.”

They spent most of the day together. Being with her friend almost made Elizabeth feel like her life was back to normal, to what it was before the season started. They enjoyed the afternoon tea together and afterwards Ms. Parson excused herself and left for her family estate. Elizabeth’s heart was a little lighter at the end of this day. Once she was alone in her chambers, she wrote a letter to the Prince, and went to bed wishing she would see him again.

#desire and decorum #desire & decorum #prince hamid #prince hamid x mc #ms parsons #mr sinclaire #playchoices #choices

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 34

We spent the remainder of our summer and early fall in London living like normal people and doing normal things. I’d get up and head into work each morning, my main focus having shifted to overseeing Trudy’s progress on the app and delving into creating pages on the Prosper site for all our clients, while Tom kept his social media activity at the level we’d agreed upon, in conjunction with working out, running lines for Skull Island, meeting with BFI and UNICEF, as well as reading the rest of the Vampire Chronicles.

Each night, we’d either eat in or go out to one of Tom’s favorite spots for dinner, and each weekend he’d take me to what he considered a ‘cannot be missed’ landmark or locale. Sundays were usually cinema day, my personal favorites we viewed being The Man From U. N. C. L. E. and American Ultra. Tom was fond of Before We Go, but I pointed out that he had to like it otherwise Captain America would kick his sorry ass, because he already had it out for him over the whole Loki wearing his suit thing. Interestingly, other than a random pap here and there in the heart of the city, we were essentially left to our own devices. No one seemed to care that we were walking around Regent’s Park drinking tea and coffee, having pizza, or grocery shopping. There were fans on occasion, and Tom was always gracious, stopping for a selfie and/or a chat, with me waiting in the wings or taking pictures. I had known it was possible to maintain some degree of anonymity no matter the level of fame involved, and now I’d come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with the behavior of the celebrity themselves and directly proportional to the size of their entourage. Which we didn’t have, nor wished to have. Granted, Tom had yet to achieve rock god status, but still…if we smiled, waved, and moved on, so did everyone else. People being people.

Two weeks after his sisters had been informed of their father’s infidelity and misdirected their anger at Tom, Emma came over to our flat and they Skyped Sarah, talking through tears and shouts for two hours before apologizing to each other and realizing that the blame lay with no one other than Diana and James themselves. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and it allowed us to move forward, both of us having dealt with our pasts as well as we could for the time being. Healing, learning, and discovering more and more of each other with every day that passed. Mundane things, like what kind of toothpaste either of us preferred, when we’d learned out times tables…the feeling that I’d always known him becoming increasingly prevalent and so very welcome. While I’d recognized that we were not only lovers but friends as well that night when I willingly shared my Ben and Jerry’s with him at the beach house in Hawaii, I couldn’t have imagined how deep that friendship would become. We lived, we loved, we laughed, and it was astounding to me that I could feel such…peace.

In mid-September the insanity began, both of us going on the road for the promotion of not one, not two, but THREE projects, High-Rise, I Saw the Light and Crimson Peak. The San Sebastian Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival (where we ran into Norman, there promoting Sky, whose premier he invited us to and we attended), the BFI London Film Festival…it seemed endless, the screenings, Tom doing interview after interview, photoshoots and photo calls, Q & A sessions. How he managed to keep which project he was promoting at which event was a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him ‘dude, what’s this one for again’ more than once, and I spent nearly every moment behind the lens of a camera.

Nights were when I edited what I’d gathered and emailed it to Tom, who’d then post it all across his social media accounts. Then came updating the website, followed by fast and furious fucking, then sleep. At some point in all the chaos he‘d dragged me into a coatroom and fucked me from behind, but the when and where wasn’t the slightest bit important at the time so determining its actual geographical occurrence is now impossible…but other than that, we behaved ourselves, acting like grown-up professionals with jobs. I enjoyed just fading into the background and watching him shine. His performance in all three films blew me away, but High Rise was my favorite story. The abortion scene in I Saw the Light made me cringe, especially when I considered how he must have felt filming it, so soon after what he’d been through in his personal life. As soon as it was over, he’d leaned over and kissed my cheek, his hand in mine, both of us squeezing gently.

October twelfth found us in New York City, staying at my apartment, me packing up boxes to be shipped to London that week. My books, the rest of my clothes, and my computer. The rest would remain for when we visited, and while I knew I’d never sell the place, I also knew London had, in an obscenely short period of time, become home. The New Orleans house had been completely cleaned out, the August estate sale netting upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, and Tom made good on his promise to donate a matching amount to the women’s shelter while the actual proceeds were delivered to Will’s wife anonymously. I wasn’t sure what to do about renovations, but was hoping to stop in at some point during the holiday season and think it through.

The fourteenth was the NYC premiere of Crimson Peak, and we’d agreed that while I’d attend, I wouldn’t walk the carpet. He’d balked, at first, but I’d convinced him that doing so would allow everyone to focus on him and his co-stars, which was exactly where the focus BELONGED. I wore the black version of the red dress I’d worn to Daniel, and spent the entire limo ride back to the apartment following the after-party with his face buried in my breasts.

We flew to Nashville on the seventeenth to prepare for the premiere of I Saw the Light…Tom’s anxiety level ratcheted up to a nine, dreading the possibility of an appearance by Claudia. I steeled myself as best as I could, but, thankfully, it was completely unnecessary. The director wanted the venue to be small and down-home, so only bare-bones cast invites had been extended. Meeting his co-star Lizzie was a blast…she was friendly, funny, dorky and gorgeous. The two of us hung out in front of the stage as Tom performed for the crowd, dancing like a couple of idiots and singing along. He was incredible, those damn hips distracting me to no end, and his SMILE, my lord. He’d tried to teach me some guitar chords while we were on the road, but, as expected, I sucked in a way that no one had probably ever sucked before and decided once and for all that being able to sing was enough musical talent for one human being.

Principal photography for Skull Island was slated to start on the nineteenth on Oahu, but Tom wasn’t needed on set until November second so we decided to take a holiday the two weeks prior on Kauai. He’d even managed to sweet talk the reservations gal into giving us the same room…the one I’d been staying in when we met, number 203. As soon as we arrived, we both changed and headed out to put our toes in the sand, which is how we spent most of our time for the next ten days. At long last, my ass was on the fucking beach and it was pure, unadulterated bliss. The nights…that’s when we made up for lost time, screwing each other senseless until we passed out from exhaustion.

Luke and Simon joined us on the twenty-ninth, a short birthday celebration jaunt for the latter. On the thirtieth we all went out to Nawiliwili Tavern to celebrate him turning thirty-eight, and I karaoked so much my throat hurt the next day. And really, it was just from singing. Really.

On the morning of my birthday, I left Tom snoring in our bed to watch the Halloween sunrise from the balcony, a knee-length tropical print satin robe wrapped around me. I’d become a fan of robes…easy to slip on, even easier to rip off. Both of us slept naked, and with all the hotels, room service and sex whenever we could squeeze it in while traveling, it was an excellent way to prevent me from answering the door in the buff. I leaned on the railing, listening to the waves crashing, watching the three joggers heading down the beach leaving sand flying in their wake. Thirty-eight. I wasn’t sure how the fuck this had happened, yet here I was, two years away from forty, the biological clock that had been silent before meeting Tom now ticking away loudly. We both baby goggled, and while we were still back in London we’d had lunch with Ben and his wife, each taking turns holding their baby. I’d caught Tom staring at me, his expression making me want toss my birth control pills in the garbage…full of adoration, love, want and so much more. And him holding such a tiny being in his huge hands…too precious for words.

Last year on this day I’d been working, giving a seminar in Chicago, and my celebration had consisted of six donuts at eleven-thirty PM in my hotel room while I watched the Matrix. This year…other than a costume party at Rob’s Good Times Grill in the evening, I had no clue what was in store for me. I reflected on how much my life had changed, and how I was so incredibly blessed, realizing that I’d be perfectly content to spend the entire day in our room, talking, laughing, dancing…all those simple things that made me genuinely happy. Me. Happy. Something I never thought I’d be, yet here I was. Standing on the balcony of the room where we’d first been intimate, on the island where we’d fallen in love. Grateful tears welled up, spilling over and running down my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss on my neck.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I turned to face him, and he immediately noticed that I’d been crying. “You okay, love?”

“I’m amazing. Happy tears. Actually, grateful tears. Just thinking about how different things are from last year, and…”

He pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair as he placed a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, my Maude.” He let me go, hands sliding around and down to grasp my forearms, grinning. “So, ready for your present?”

I poked his chest with my index finger. “Dude, you PROMISED me, NO PRESENTS. The time we’re getting to spend together here before you start filming is my present, and every day with you is a gift ANYWAY so…”

Several beats of uncharacteristic silence followed. “Well look at you, leaving me at a loss for words.”

Wrangling free of his grip, I clapped excitedly. “That’s like a whole ‘NOTHER present, man. WOO HOO!”

He laughed, a drawn out ‘ehehehehehe’, ceasing only when we thought we heard someone yell for us to shut up. We ran back inside and closed the balcony doors behind us, sat on the bed and perused the breakfast menu. I opted for scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon, and Tom decided upon an egg and cheese omelet. After eating quickly, we showered together, and as we dried off in the main area of the room he cleared his throat nervously.

“So, um…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a ride out to Talk Story today? I thought perhaps you’d want to pick up some new reading material for while I’m shooting?”

The man knew the only time I had to read these days was when I was on the toilet, but I went with it because, BOOKS. And I’d wanted to go there before we moved on to Oahu anyway, even if it was just to look around. The origin of us. A huge grin spread across my face.

“That sounds fucking epic, babe. What time is it now, like eight-thirty? They open at ten, and the trip there is an hour…”

“Shall we see if Luke and Simon want to join us?”

I snorted. “Ha, if Simon’s even awake yet it would be a bona-fide fucking miracle…but sure, why not? It’d be cool for them to see where we met. God, I’m such a romantic saphead asshat. Gross.”

He laughed, wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed his phone off the desk. I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. After hanging up, he joined me, eyes on my reflection, and the memory of him fucking me right there four months ago made me shiver, goosebumps pebbling my flesh.

“Believe it or not, they’re not only awake, they’ve had breakfast. Or at least Luke has. Simon appears to be on a liquid diet so far today.”

I spit a final time then spun around, brows raised, and he chuckled.

“What I MEANT was he’s too hung over for food, little miss filthy dirty mind.”

I slapped his ass as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed. “You fucking love it.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Black bra and panties, grey hiking shorts…but I figured I should ask what he was wearing before I picked out a shirt.

“Babe, what are you....” I’d turned around so my voice would carry better to the bathroom only to find him right THERE, his cock at half-mast. I coughed, then continued. “Wearing. What are you wearing? Fuck, the naked sneak up is NOT COOL, Hiddleston.”

He smirked. “My khaki shorts and a white V-neck, I think.”

“Good. Then I can wear a black one.” I finished dressing while he began, then went to stand before the mirror so I could put my hair back in a ponytail. I’d had it cut and styled before we left London, the ends brushing just below my collar bones. For some reason, even just a few inches and a tiny bit of layering made it much easier to manage. As I was strapping on my Birkenstocks, a quiet rapping on the door began. Tom opened it, and when I saw Simon was wearing giant Kardashian-style mirrored aviator sunglasses indoors, I shouted. Loudly. Even though it hurt my throat to do so.

“Good morning, Mr. Ahlberg. How are we feeling today? Looks like you may have had too much birthday, am I right?”

His voice was raspy as he pulled the Panama hat he was sporting further down his forehead. “Fuck off, bitch.” He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, white shorts and white loafers.

I rose as he and Luke entered the room, and Luke grinned as he embraced me briefly.

“Happy Birthday, Maude.”

“Thank you, Luke. You look none the worse for wear.” He’d paired khaki shorts with a medium-blue faded T-shirt and Teva sandals, also khaki with blue stripes.

He snorted. “One of us had to behave responsibly. He was up half the night with his head in the bowl…”

Simon shoved him out of the way, wrapping his arms around me to support himself after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Please kill me. I know it’s your birthday, but it IS Halloween so it’s sort of apropos and I really need to die. I beg you. Put me out of my misery.”

I squeezed him tightly and whispered back. “Not a chance, asshole. I enjoy your snark entirely too much to let it slip from my grasp so easily.”

He sighed, releasing me. “Fine, fine. On with the hour long car ride then. Followed by staring at some books. Then an hour long car ride back. All during which I could have been resting up for tonight.”

We used their rental car, as I’d demanded to have a Jeep Wrangler again and thought Simon might puke if we took that instead. Much like Luke had thought he’d do when we’d gone to our Hula class. Ah, life’s fun parallels that arise from excessive alcohol consumption. Tom had gone back up to the room to retrieve his forgotten phone, and when he came back we were off. Luke and Simon sat in the back, Simon resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, moaning from time to time when Tom took a turn too fast.

He parked us a block down, and we jumped out of the vehicle, excited to be back, and he picked me up and spun me around as we waited for Simon’s slow-ass self.

I rolled my eyes as Tom set me down. “Christ, Simon…you’re like a little old man. Fucking move it along, won’t you?”

I got the bird in return, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. The ibuprofen I’d given him in the car must have started to kick in. Why he hadn’t thought of it on his own…no clue. As we reached the red doors, Tom took my hand, smiling as he opened the door for me. It was exactly the same, which wasn’t really a surprise as only four months had passed, but a feeling washed over me at the sight of it anyway, one of pure joy. His hand squeezed mine as we walked inside, and behind the counter was Roger Marshal, still bearded, same glasses, different Hawaiian shirt, this time red with green leaves. He grinned widely and came around to shake our hands.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston, Ms. Gallagher. Welcome back. I see you brought friends with you on this glorious Halloween day in paradise.”

Tom introduced him to Simon and Luke while I wandered down to the stacks where we’d met. The place was relatively empty…I didn’t see anyone, but assumed customers were just quietly browsing elsewhere. Music was playing, something by 10,000 Maniacs, the name of which always escaped me. Almost instinctually, I went right for the ‘K’s, looking for my white whale…and…THERE IT FUCKING WAS. Not three feet away from me, the spine of the dust jacket unmistakable, silver-grey with a long black tower and yellow text. I stood, frozen in place, listening to footsteps approaching just as I had on that day back in June. Tom’s hand touched my shoulder gently.

“You okay? You didn’t move a muscle while we walked down here.”

I pointed. “It’s there. Do you see it? Tell me you see it.”

He looked. “See what?”

“THE BOOK. THE GUNSLINGER. Yellow text. Black tower. TELL ME YOU SEE IT.”

“Oh, okay…yes…I see it. Wait, isn’t that…”

I nodded, still using my indoor voice but enunciating so strongly they sounded out in all caps. “YES. MY WHITE WHALE. THAT IS A FIRST EDITION COPY OF THE GUNSLINGER.”

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “And you’re not over there pulling it off the shelf and holding on to it for dear life, why, exactly?”

Reaching up, I patted his hand gently as I whispered. “Because I’m afraid that if I move or even if I blink it will disappear, having only been the cruelest of mirages.”

“If I can see, it, it MUST be real, yes?” His other hand patted my ass. “Best grab it before someone else does, don’t you think?”

I turned to him briefly, eyes wide. “YES. Excellent idea.”

One step, two steps, both very slow, and I noticed that the song had changed. Tilting my head to make sure I wasn’t hearing things in addition to possibly seeing things, I listened closely, turning back around to face Tom.

“Is it me or…is that Tigerlily by La Roux?”

His own head tilted, and he nodded, smiling. “You’re right, it is. What a fantastic coincidence!”

I nodded again, then turned back to my prey. Another two steps and I was there, reaching out my hand to touch the spine gingerly, then quickly pulling back as if I’d been burned.

“Oh my god it’s REAL. And not only is it REAL I think it’s in, like, MINT FUCKING CONDITION this is…I just…” I carefully slid it off the shelf, turning it over in my hands, then back again, opening the cover ever so gently. Much to my horror, there was something written on the flyleaf. I was about to stomp my foot when I noticed my name.

Happy Birthday, Maude.

You hold in your hands not only a first edition, but one from my personal collection…and out of the first box the publisher sent to me. The God of Mischief asked me to do him a solid, and I figured it might be a good idea to go the extra mile. Thanks for being a Constant Reader all these years, and may the wheel of Ka always move forward for you.

With love,

Steve

PS - CONGRATULATIONS!

Tigerlily was still playing, and I re-read the text again, realizing that Tom had planned all of this, for ME, for MY birthday, and I nearly burst into tears but the last bit of what Steve…STEPHEN FUCKING KING… had written confused me and I focused on that in an attempt to keep my shit together. I began speaking, still staring at the word as I turned around.

“Tom, why did he write congra…” I looked up from my precious treasure but didn’t see him, just Luke and Simon, their phones held up and pointing at me. “…ulations?” My gaze moved lower, and there he was. Tom. Down on one knee. Right arm extended. And in his hand was a small black box.

I’d like to say the world around me grew silent and time stopped and the angels began to sing, but that would be lying and, if nothing else, I’m an honest woman.

What really happened is that I blurted out “Ohmygodthefuckareyoudoing?” followed by my right hand flying up to cover my mouth, trying to shove what had just come out back in.

His eyes met mine, peering up from under his brows, lashes so long and soft and glistening with tears, his smile shy and kind and beautiful and I could see his hand shaking just the tiniest bit and my knees got weak and I had to uncover my mouth so I could breathe otherwise my big ass was going to hit the fucking floor.

He cleared his throat, then began to speak. “One hundred and twenty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since I walked through those red doors, down these stacks and saw you, my light in the mist. All of those days that came and went before…they all appear in shades of grey in my mind now, as if I never truly saw the world around me in color until the moment my eyes met yours for the first time. And however many more days we’re blessed with on this earth, I want to spend each and every one of them with you. I know I’ve said this bit already, when we first arrived in New York, but…I’m going to say it again, because it’s the truth, the only truth I know, the only truth that matters. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. Maude Gallagher, will you do me the honor…the most extraordinary honor that could ever be bestowed upon me…of becoming my wife?”

I’d stopped breathing at some point, inhaling with an audible gasp at his conclusion, then answering.

“Absofuckingloutely. Yes. Yes yes yes yes YES!”

I threw myself at him, and he rose to catch me just in time, both of us laughing and crying, his forehead resting against mine, Simon and Luke whistling and shouting as we kissed, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over when we came up for air. Tom pulled back, grinning holding up the black box and shaking it back and forth.

“Aren’t you curious to see your ring?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “I guess so. Whip it out.”

He opened the lid, and what I saw nested inside the black velvet made me feel faint for the second time in mere minutes. The ring was sterling silver, with an oval cut and polished black stone set in raised parenthesis shaped sterling silver bars, one to each side, perfectly mimicking of the style of the necklace given to me by my father. My voice eluded me, and he mistook my silence for displeasure.

“It’s not traditional, I know, and if you’d rather have a diamond we can…”

My head shook back and forth as I reached out and touched it with my right index finger in disbelief, then met his gaze.

“That’s black tourmaline.” He nodded, and I recalled the conspiratorial glance Luke’s mother and Tom’s sister had shared after I’d tried on a ring back at the Cube gallery. “Phaedra made this.”

He nodded again, eyes questioning. I bit my lip, then inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Will you put it on me please?”

His voice was timid, soft. “You like it, then?”

“No, Tom. I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Put. It. On. Me.” I grinned. “Please.”

As Simon sidled over and took the Gunslinger away from me, Tom slipped the ring out of its slot, put the box in his pocket, then took my left hand in his right and slid the first tangible symbol of our commitment to one another home with the other, a huge, beautiful smile spreading across his face as I brought both our hands up to stare at my latest jewelry acquisition. He watched me, silently, and all the other moments that I’d pushed aside over the past four months formed a slideshow in my mind’s eye. Ben smirking at us as we looked through his wedding album, nudging his wife in the ribs as she giggled…what I’d overheard at Diana’s house, that he wanted something to be ‘perfect’…and, finally, the afternoon at Greenwood Cemetery back in New Orleans when I’d said goodbye to my father. Tom had gone to the crypt, introduced himself and told my father how much he loved me, then asked him a question, cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering against the stone, waiting for an answer, then nodding as he said ‘thank you, sir’. When I’d asked what his question had been he’d refused to tell me, though when I inquired as to whether my father had answered, he’d replied ‘I’d like to think he did.’

Gasping, my hand again flew to my mouth as my breath hitched and the tears flowed. “Tom…my god…how long…when did you decide…was it back in…Tom, that day in the cemetery…my dad…is that what you…”

He nodded, weeping as well. “Yes. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”

Choking back sobs, I reached out and placed my right hand on his shoulder. “But…when did you…when…”

His fingers grazed my temple, then my cheek, coming to rest on my jaw. “When did I know that I wanted to marry you?” I nodded. “That moment in the hotel in New Orleans when you said that if you really, truly love someone you accept them just as they are…and that you accepted me, all of me, every bit. As I took you in my arms, it hit me…I wasn’t just holding the woman I’d fallen in love with any longer. I was holding my wife.”

My sobs broke free, and I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his chest. He rocked me, smoothing my hair, his chin on the top of my head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask. I just…I wanted it to be…perfect.”

Pulling away, I snorted. “Mission accomplished, you glorious bastard. This was over the top, ridiculously romantic, Clint Eastwood and Rob Reiner co-directing a love story PERFECT.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The ring…there’s an inscription…”

I yanked it off and held it up to my face. Around the solid portion of the band, flanked on either side by two tiny books was written in a teeny, tiny font, two lines, one on top of the other:

Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story

My Light in the Mist

“Thomas William Hiddleston, I hope you realize that now we have to get MARRIED here. Like, right here. In this very spot. Bridezilla has come ashore and she won’t have it any other way.” I turned my attention from the ring to his face. “I’m serious. Can we? Is that cool with you? Getting married here? I mean, I guess we need to ask…” His smirk resulted in an epic eye roll and heavy sigh from me as I slipped the ring back on my finger. “Aaaaand…you already asked, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Roger’s fine with it. We just need to let him know a few weeks in advance so he can arrange to close the shop.”

For some reason, that solidified what had just occurred. Tom had asked me to marry him. I’d said yes. I was now his fiancé, the future Mrs. Thomas Hiddleston. And there was now a wedding to plan. Which was exciting and amazing but I had no idea what to do next so I just stood, like a deer caught in headlights. He leaned in, nose touching mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded hard, attempting to clear my head, letting the euphoria take over. “My god, we’re getting MARRIED. Maude Hiddleston. I’m going to need to start practicing that. Gotta say, it sounds pretty fucking great. Nice ring to it. Maude Hiddleston. Yep. Sold.”

His jaw had dropped open, then closed again, eyes full of surprise. “I…you…you want to change your name?”

“Uhhh…yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if you don’t want…”

He took my hands in his. “Oh, no, no…I…I’d love for you to take my name. See, that sounds awful. Archaic. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to or that I expected you to because, I mean, you’re known a certain way professionally and…”

My lips found his, tongue pushing into his mouth, silencing him the best way I knew how. And, other than pushing his head down between my thighs, my favorite way. As we broke the kiss, he grinned, and so did I.

“Tom. I know some women are very much against changing their names or like to hyphenate, and that’s totally cool, but I’m not one of them. To me, it’s part of joining with someone. Being a family. If that makes me old-fashioned, too fucking bad. Plus, what happens when your kid with the hyphenated name marries another kid with a hyphenated name? Chaos, I say. Chaos.”

His expression was so earnest, so thankful that it caused me to take pause, during which I become cognizant of all I had to be thankful for as well. And that I hadn’t even said thank you, for anything he’d done, which resulted in waterworks yet again as I let go of his hands to place mine on the sides of his beautifully chiseled countenance.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t say thank you, for any of this…but I’m telling you now. Thank you, Tom. Thank you. I’m going to remember this forever and tell it over and over and our kids and grandkids will be like SHUT UP WE HEARD THAT STORY A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY and it’s just…I love you, so much, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life and my god, I can’t believe you want to MARRY me because I mean I’m ME and…”

It was his turn to cut things off with a kiss, and as he pulled back I heard Simon’s voice, realizing I had completely forgotten that we weren’t alone and wondering exactly how much they’d filmed.

“Yay, yay, you’re engaged, that’s super, who isn’t though, you know? Anyway. I’m going to create a diversion because if Maude cries again I’m going to lose all respect for her and, frankly, I don’t have that much left TO lose so…” He wrenched me from Tom’s grasp and turned me to face him. “SO, I assume that I’ll be your maid of honor? Because honey, you are REALLY going to need my help…”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, you’ll wind up being my MATRON of honor because you’ll probably be MARRIED by then, you big fucking dumbass. And…and…” I started to sniffle, tears welling up again.

He covered his eyes with his right hand, having taken the shades off to film, and groaned. “Oh. My. God. Are you going to cry from now until whenever it is you get hitched? Because if that’s the case feel free to go before Luke and I do.”

When I didn’t reply, he uncovered his eyes, saw the look on my face and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of one hand, then attempted to speak. “Will you…I…my…I don’t have a…my dad…isn’t…will…will you walk me down the aisle?”

He, Tom and Luke burst into tears at that, Simon’s hand over his mouth as he nodded repeatedly and pulled me to his chest. His voice was deep but soft in my ear when he was able to talk again. “Of course I will, honey. Of course I will. I’m so sorry your father won’t be there. And you know I’m, like, SO not religious so I’m not going to give you the watching over you nonsense, though I guess who the fuck really knows, but in a way he WILL be there, because he’s part of you. And we need to talk about something else now because crying is making my headache IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE…”

He released me and Luke took his place immediately, warmly embracing me for the second time that day. His quiet authority was what I saw most of…it wasn’t until we were off the clock that he became himself, and even at that we were only moderately affectionate. Drunk Luke, though…that was an entirely different story. After a few pats to the back, we let each other go, and I pointed at Tom.

“This is some stunt you pulled here, young man. I hope you realize that.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. “Oh, I do.” His brows rose. “Were you truly surprised?”

“Um, YEAH. No clue. Well, not exactly NO clue. I mean, I picked up on a few things along the way that I seemed odd but I just pushed them aside because…” My eyes turned skyward as I thought of the best way to phrase what came next. “Because as much as I wanted it to be what I thought it was, I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t want to be disappointed if it never happened, I guess. But. Yeah. So, do we need to fill anyone in on the news or am I totally the last one to know?”

“If it never happened. You’re a silly, silly girl.” His lips grazed my cheek. “And yes, there are still plenty of people to tell. Anyone who was privy to my plan was purely essential.”

My left eyebrow shot up. “Oh, how did Ben and Sophie factor in? Do tell.”

He blushed adorably. “I may have tattled to Chris and Elsa too. But…Anne’s still in the dark, so maybe start there?”

Simon had set the Gunslinger on the nearest table, and I started at it and sighed happily. “I cannot BELIEVE you not only managed to find me a first edition copy of the Gunslinger, but you got Stephen King to sign it, and it’s ONE FROM HIS PERSONAL COLLECTION. You are such a complete dork, and I am the luckiest woman alive, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

He walked to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “So, should we take a photo to post online? Or would you rather do something more formal?”

I snorted. “Fuck formal. Picture, please.”

I held up my left hand at face level between us, the back of it towards Tom’s phone, which Luke was holding, then pointed at the ring with my right and posed with my mouth stretched wide open in a gleeful grin. Tom pointed at it as well, and three clicks later we were good to go.

Taking the phone back from Luke, he typed, then stopped. “Do you want to call Anne before I post this?”

“Nah. I’ll wait for her to call. It’s more fun this way…and honestly, I have no idea how to tell people without sounding like an asshole, so…yeah. Post it.”

He clicked, then turned the screen so I could see it. There we were, his expression mimicking mine, his Twitter message short and sweet.

She said YES!!!!!!!!!! #thefuturemrshiddleston, #iamsoveryblessed, #luckiestmanintheuniverse

Chuckling, I passed the phone back to him. “Um, actually what I said was ‘absofuckingloutely’. Shit. That’s like, filmed and recorded as my official reaction to being proposed to in the most beautiful and perfect way possible. Nice one, me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “So, not to be a killjoy…” Simon snorted. “Do we have a date in mind for the blessed event? Tom’s schedule is…”

I raised my hand. “Oh, oh…I know what Tom’s schedule is…it’s an insane MESS. Gee, wish there was an app for that or something. HA! Anyhow, you’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that there is zero room for it to happen until late April or early May.”

Scrolling through his phone, Luke nodded. “You’re right. After the I Saw the Light press tour and premiere he’s got Night Manager promo until it airs in the states on April nineteenth. Really, the best month seems to be June.”

Tom spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes it simple. Let’s do it on the first anniversary of the day we met. June twenty-ninth. I think I can even squeeze in time for a honeymoon before heading to Australia to start in on Ragnarock.” He turned to me, brows raised, questioning. “Okay with you?”

My eyes met his, then roamed up and down over his form. This breathtakingly beautiful, kind, compassionate, intelligent, gifted, hilarious being…he was going to be my husband. I felt the tears creeping up on me again, but shook them off, breaking myself of the habit lest I, as Simon feared, kept crying every time I thought about marrying the man for the next eight months.

“Oh yeah. Totally okay with me. And shall I assume you had that planned all along as well?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, one hand on his abdomen, smirking adorably when he’d managed to compose himself. “No, actually…that one was totally off the cuff.”

“Sure it was.”

Laughing again, he grabbed my shoulders. “It was. I swear it.”

I sighed. “Well, if you swear it, I guess I should believe you. So…I know this will come as a shock, but …I’m STARVING. Birthday girl needs lunch. Feed birthday girl NOW.”

Tom pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “How’s Kauai Pasta sound?”

“It sounds like you made reservations for four is how it sounds.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Which is awesome, because I am such a slut for Alfredo…”

Simon’s face appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, oh…can we please go over the list of things you’re a slut for? THERE ARE SO MANY…”

I flipped him off. “Please. Your list is so long it wouldn’t fit on my 32 gig USB drive.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “My, my. She becomes some hot guy’s fiancé and her rudeness trebles. Unacceptable.”

Grinning, I turned my gaze back to Tom. “So, are we, like, done with surprises for the day? Because I’m not sure my heart can take another one. Though I do have a surprise of my own for YOU…”

“You do, do you? And what would that be?”

I patted his chest. “That would be my Halloween costume, babe. I fear you may not survive.”

He placed his hand over mine, leaning in so his face was inches from mine. “You do realize that you have not the slightest inkling as to what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

I didn’t. I’d been so focused on keeping mine under wraps I hadn’t considered HIS. And I was afraid to imagine, because the party now seemed an eternity away and if I let my mind wander…my mouth dropped open, then closed, opened, then closed again. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am so, so fucked.”

A whisper in my ear. “Oh, you are indeed, my darling. You are indeed.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 34

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imagine-loki · 7 years ago

Text

Irked

Title: Irked

Author lokilover9

Chapter 11

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal.

Warnings: None

Notes: I apologize to my readers as it’s been a bit since I submitted a chapter of Irked, and for those of you reading Taming the Rage, the same. I’ve struck major writers block due to life becoming all consuming, but will do my best to continue with both. Sooo….At the end of chapter ten, Shandi had no sooner apologized to Loki for thinking he gave her food poisoning, when the brat subtly threatened a spanking. And now the saga continues.

Never, as an adult, had Shandi received, or desired a spanking, yet hearing it insinuated in Loki’s alluring voice, only added to her growing perplexity with him.

“Do you really think you’d get away with spanking me?” She asked.

“Pshh, I only mentioned putting you over my knee. If spankings are your thing however, I’m free upon returning to the house and would happily indulge you.”

“Seriously Loki? How can you be so thoughtful one minute and so damn..agitating the next?”

“It’s in my nature.”

She sighed, heavily. “How forgetful of me. You will not ‘indulge’ me in anything of the sort and I suggest you keep driving. I still need new shoes.”

His lips pursed at her un amused expression. “I’m sorry, was that a threat darling?”

“Shoes Loki!”

The first store they found had what she wanted, but the clerk needed to search the back for her size. She sat while waiting and Loki stood close, legs slightly apart and hands cupped together at his front.

“Must you appear so intimidating?” She whispered.

“Yes I must.”

“Why?”

He leaned down, hovering his cheek next to hers, his voice husky and low. “I’m rather possessive of my spouse. No one touches her, but me.”

Battling a sudden urge to tighten her thighs together, she looked away as he stood again. ‘How did this happen?’ She thought. My first first major mission and I’m knocked up by an alien God whose voice alone crumbles my every moral thought.’

Continuing, Loki eyed her from his peripheral vision. “Something on your mind? Perhaps a skinny dip in the pool later would soothe your rosy complexion, hm?”

‘Oh lord.’

Much to her relief, the clerk reapproached. “Our last size seven ma’am. If you’ll just remove your shoes, I can…”

Loki took the box with a smile. “Thank you, but I’ll assist from here.”

Once her sneakers were off, he squatted, resting her bare foot amidst his palm and decided to wiggle a finger between her toes. The joke was on him however, when Shandis reflexes sprung into action and jerked her foot upwards, kicking him beneath the chin. He froze with an arched brow and she couldn’t refrain from chuckling.

“Oh dear. Did ‘ems forget how ticklish I am there Clifford?”

“Apparently so ‘Lizzy’ and I highly suspect you enjoyed that.”

“Ohhh, you’ve no idea.”

Loki waited until they were back in the car. “You may come to regret your amusement at my expense.”

“Poor darling.” She teased. “Did ‘ems little wifey kick ‘ems too hard in the chinny chin chin and now ‘ems offended?”

“Eh he he he. Would ‘ems little wifey like her spouse to follow up on his previous indulgence offer?”

“Don’t even think about it Clifford.”

Amidst the the towns core, was a large park with landscaped flower beds, benches and several paths, that followed a stream throughout. Loki unexpectedly stopped there and opened his door.

“Nice place for a walk. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Before she’d a chance to protest, he was aiding her out of the car again and smiled when she willingly took his hand.

“Good girl, obeying the rules.”

“Rules?” She sarcastically asked.

“Why, yes. Besides carrying my child, how else are we to convince others you adore me?”

She whispered her response. “This baby isn’t yours if you recall, me being a shameless tart and all, so don’t expect much beyond the basics.”

Loki placed a hand to his heart. “Such cruel and hurtful words you speak darling. Having promised my undying love for this child, no matter who the father. I’m terribly wounded.”

A smirk formed on lips and she followed suit. “You’re a real pain, you know that Clifford? I can’t decide who the bigger Diva is at times, you or Tony.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d point a finger at each other.”

“I can actually picture you two in a heated conversation about that. Sarcasm so thick you could cut a knife through it, testosterone oozing from the walls.”

“Tony and I have had several heated conversations. Mostly because I find him entertaining to annoy.”

Her brows rose. “Nooo, really? ‘Only’ Tony?”

“Such unfounded accusations you keep voicing. I’m wounded twice now Lizzy.”

“Oh they’re founded alright and there’s not a guilty bone in my body.”

“Is that so? Are you aware that in Asgard, I could have you sent to the dungeons for speaking to me in such a manner?”

“Then lead the way as I’ve no issues saying what’s on my mind.”

His eyes playfully narrowed. “So I’ve learned. It seems to be a common occurrence in women of this realm. Natasha, Pepper and Jane are the same. Especially Kroshka.”

“Kroska?” She asked.

“It basically means ‘sweetums’ in Russian. I’ve used it sarcastically and kindly, yet still receive Cactus or ‘prick’ mostly in return. She’s a unique and skilled set of talents for one with no super powers and quite an intelligent woman.”

“You like Nat?”

“I’ve no longer any qualms with her. Since returning, she’s the only one who’s granted me any real kindness, despite minute.”

A part of Shandi felt bad for Loki, despite understanding the others distrust of him. She knew no matter how much good he continued doing, it would always remain and that had to be tough to accept. Still, she’d never tolerate his crap.

“So females who stand up for and defend themselves, are they a problem for you?”

“Not necessarily. As princes, Thor and I are used to women being subservient and obedient, always aiming to appease. Some Midgardian cultures appear to enforce the same, yet in yours, women present a challenge. I find it intriguing, yet also slightly amusing.”

“Why amusing?” She asked.

The glance he shot her sent a shiver down her spine. “In certain regards, they’d inevitably succumb to defeat. Let’s change the subject, hm?”

She let go of his hand when a large bush of pink peonies caught her attention. Loki followed, noting her admiration for them.

“I gather these are a favorite?”

“Tulips are my first, but they only bloom in spring.“ She inhaled their light scent, then turned to him. "What are gardens like on Asgard?”

He smiled at her almost childlike curiosity. “Not that I’m bias.” He replied. “Yet Midgards are nothing in comparison. Our flowers alone are more vibrant in color, potent in fragrance and tend to be rather ‘exotic’ in appearance.” ‘Much like you.’ He thought.

They walked in silence for a bit when coming across a young teen selling something. He explained that during the summer months, most who worked in the towns core, would take lunch over the next couple of hours, while feeding the many birds amidst the trees. After buying a small bag, they seeked out a shaded bench where she dabbed beads of sweat from her face with a tissue.

"Wow. This heavy humidity is already making me nauseous.”

“I can help if you wish?”

“How?” She asked.

He walked behind the bench, resting his hands on her shoulders, her suspicious glance earning a smirk. “Shandi, I won’t hurt you. Close your eyes and relax?” She couldn’t avoid obeying when his thumbs began rubbing and kneading between her shoulder blades, quickly obliterating all the tension they possessed. The moment she slackened though, the centers of his palms began cooling and her eyes shot open.

“Uhh, what are you doing?” She nervously asked.

“Trust me.” His thumbs re commenced, luring her into a state of calm as a cooling sensation, seeped throughout her neck, face and upper torso. It removed all her sweat and nausea, while ebbing away through her skin. The experience took only minutes to occur and when his hands lifted, she felt refreshed.

Rejoining her, he smiled. “Better?”

“Uhh, yeah. Thanks. How…”

“Just a little magic and you’re very welcome.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it Loki, but we aren’t supposed to use our powers in public, remember?”

“To others I was merely massaging. No one saw a thing, I assure you.”

Silently, she tossed about the feed, deciding she’d keep this secret as he’d done her a kindness. Should the heat continue this way, maybe he’d do it again. Her thoughts began wandering towards what else those hands might be capable of in combination with his magic, when logic snapped her back to reality. ‘You need to get a better grip on yourself Shandi. Stop forgetting who he is and why you’re here.’

Loki had been casually observing people descending upon the area. “Might I inquire why you joined the Avengers?”

“That was unexpected. Why do you wish to know?” She asked.

“Curiosity.”

“Well, helping those in need gives me a great sense of fulfillment for starters. Secondly, I couldn’t have been more honored at the opportunity to work with such an amazing group of people. Add that to an eagerness for change and I was fairly easy to convince.”

“Were you aware Tony praised you highly and was elated by your decision? He also made it very clear to the others you were ‘not’ to leave the tower unescorted.”

She smiled. “I remember him trying to convince me how unwise that could be.” Playfully, she mocked Tony and his mannerisms. ‘I know you’re a tough cookie with a powerful gift Doll and most people here are great. Still, it’s a big city and you never know where creepy crawlies might be lurking. You’ll need time to get to know the place.’ He continued for almost a half hour before Pepper intervened.”

“Creepy crawlies?” Asked Loki. “I’ve never met another Migardian with odder names for things. I overheard him use the word ‘thingamajiggy’ once and asked of its meaning. ‘Well Cactus, it’s a doohickey.’ What’s a doohickey then Tin Man? ‘It’s a watchyamacallit.’ I realized then, I was being had.”

Shandi laughed. “That’s Tony.”

A few minutes passed when Loki slid an arm around her, gently tracing his fingers up her arm. “Nice display of goosebumps, but focus on the mission will you?”

“Ha ha God of vanity. I’m doing my best.”

“I’m actually serious Shandi, it would appear luck is our ally again today.”

“How so?”

“A few trees to our left, Beth and ‘Alice’ are dining on a bench. Let’s go properly introduce ourselves and engage them in some conversation, shall we?”

“That’s perfect. What should we initially reveal of ourselves without sounding overly friendly though?”

“I’ll begin.” He replied. “Just hold tightly to my arm, appear nervous of your surroundings and follow my lead.”

“Why appear nervous of my surroundings?”

They stood and he raised her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it. “Trust me again darling? I’ll explain later.”

Shandis lashes fluttered as she took his arm. “What was that for?”

“The first step in convincing others, ‘I’ adore ‘you.’

They started back onto the path.

“Are you planning to share what step two is?” She politely asked.

“And ruin the element of surprise? Come now.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #irked #chapter 11 #lokilover9 #tony stark #hire #odin #mission #penance #tower #superior #arrogant #introduce #dislike

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janeeet-n · 6 years ago

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**Disclaimer: This is a really, really long post.**

You have not only provided me with a wealth of knowledge and opportunities but you’ve equipped me with probably one of the best support group a girl could have ever dreamed of. I could not have asked for a better group of friends here at Davis, so I’ve decided to do something different on this blog. I want to take this time to share with you my friends here in cow-town that have been here for me since day one. (There isn’t a specific order, friends!)

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Lizzy,

My high school sweetheart! Hahaha, we’ve known each other for a while now, and I’m so glad that we got even closer during our time here in cow-town. I’m always so inspired by your resilience and the unending love you have for everyone. You’re so down to earth and easy to talk to. You’re relatable, and you’re not shy to be who you are. I really admire your ability to understand people at all sorts of angles. Every time I come to you with my problems, you always put it in a whole new perspective. I truly am so grateful for you. To have known you since high school is honestly a blessing. We’ve literally been through so much. I remember during summer, you even went with me to get the Nexplanon when I was such a wimp. You are such a true one. You have guided me through a shit ton of mishaps, and I’m so blessed to have someone so anchored in my life. Girl, we got so much ahead of us! Thank you for everything! By the way, thank you for always being the first to reach out to me and dragging me out of the study lounge or lonely library to hang out. I always get so excited to hang out/study with you. (Sorry about your tire. I’m bad juju.)

Myat,

The badass. I remember when I went through such a hard time, you would always AMPLIFY things, and it was always so bizarre that it made me feel better. I remember when we were on the bus together to go to Trader Joe’s (?), and I was pretty sad about my recent breakup. All you said was “I’m going to cut him like filet mignon.” Hahaha, I still laugh so hard just thinking about all of the bizarre, outrageous things that you always say when you’re feeling heated. You never let anyone hurt your friends and that warms my heart. You will always fight for people you care about. If I ever need a partner in crime, I know you would be the go to girl for that. You’re literally badass. On the real though, you’re extremely sweet! I remember when our friend went through some problems, you would literally come to me and ask about what to do when s/he acts a certain way or how to comfort someone. You’re so caring and compassionate. You don’t always understand what someone else is going through, but you actually put yourself out there and find a way to understand people better. You genuinely care, and I’m so glad to have someone who is so badass yet such a softie. Also, you introduced me to the fangirl world and honestly, I’ve learned SO much about your fangirl life- things I did want to know and certainly things I wish I didn’t. (Thank you for guiding me through my ginger-basketball fangirl phase.)

Michelle,

The sweetest, purest little flower in our group. You were the first person to make Davis feel more like home to me. I remember meeting you as my roommate for the first time. You were so chirpy and happy! I was feeling pretty sad but you made the move-in experience a lot lighter, and it always felt like everything would be fine. I remember asking you if you missed home because we come from the same hometown, and you bluntly replied “no.” Hahaha, in my head, I was like, “damn, okay, Miss Independent over here.” You always have the purest intentions, and I really appreciate how hard-working you are and how you manage to “nap” for three plus hours. It’s quite impressive, I must say. I think it’s so cute how I can always find stickers on the messenger app that reminds me of you. You always fill my heart up with so much love and joy. I’ll never forget the time you set out some time of your day to sticky-note my desk, take down pictures, block out names, AND write encouraging notes on little post-its. I truly did not understand true friendship until I came back that Sunday and saw my space filled with nothing but positivity. By the way, I will never forget the times I almost died in your car and our spontaneous Jan and Mish trip to the biggest corn maze in the world! + figuring out how bad you were with your left and right. Hahaha.

Reca,

My model. I don’t know how you do it. I still don’t to this very day understand how you literally do it all. I love how you’re so 100 with everything. You are literally perfect. Reca can literally be that girl that breaks the curve in your math class to being that girl getting so lit at the parties. You are the definition of work hard, play hard. Hahaha. You literally inspire me to overcome my challenges and to never take things for granted. You always think outside of the box, and I really appreciate how real you are with the life you’re given. You bring a different perspective of hard work and passion into life. You somehow don’t ever need to say a lot to get your point across, and I really admire that. You’re such a boss lady! You’re who I would want my daughter to look up to. Seriously. Not only are you great at all that you do but you’re also a real friend. You’re always so, so easy to talk to and so understanding of the circumstances. You don’t let anyone stand in your way, and you have such genuine intentions. I am so glad you slid into my DMs before freshmen year and asked me to be your roommate. It felt like we were online dating, to be honest! (And when we did a Skype call to make sure we are all legit humans. Hahaha) I remember how you totally catfished me when I saw you in real life, and you were literally like 2 inches taller than me instead of 5 inches taller. You’re also freaking queen. You know how to transform- like damn girl. You out here to steal someone’s girl. (& thank you for sharing modern slang with me because I’m a literal grandma.)

Mary,

You’re so down to earth. You’re so funny, even if you don’t intend to be. You have a heart made of gold. I will never forget when the whole “clown scare” thing was going viral, and you told us that if a clown appears, you will run the clown over with your bike. Hahaha. Mary, I hope that you will one day learn that your heart deserves more than what you think you deserve. Never be afraid to be vulnerable at times. I’m always rooting for whatever you choose to do! It’s always so nice having someone the same size to borrow and trade clothes with! Hahaha. If you ever need anything, I got you. You are such a wholesome person to be around. You are so easy to talk to and you really bring me home. You give off a very cozy vibe, and I really find comfort in being around you. It may sound so weird, but it’s a good thing! Here’s to many more years of us watching scary movies together, gossiping about anything, and trying to understand the quarter system of university. (And listening to each other spill tea about anything we can think of!) To tackling university together a quarter at a time and crying over how we don’t know how to study. (We’ll get there one day!!)

Alice,

I think our first time really ever interacting was probably going to Ike’s together. We made the plan randomly and somehow carried it through successfully! I remember thinking I can’t cancel on Alice, because I want to get to know her better! You’re always so calm unless you copied down the wrong BIS2C notes or dropping your pens everywhere in class. You never back down from anything, and I love that so much about you. You’d literally tackle anyone. (According to Bryan) I remember freshman year, always wondering how you did it all. You are my superwoman. You somehow manage to wake up early to go swimming everyday, whether it’s hailing or sunshine. You run marathons. You know how to play an instrument (maybe even more than one?). You study hard. You work relentlessly. You eat healthy- literally. You stay on top of your shit. You amaze me every day with all that you do. You are hashtag goals. Hahaha. You are so admirable, and I hope to get to know you even better as we spend the next two years together in undergrad plus many more!

Kat,

You’re literally the only person I bother like way too much. I love talking to you. I love being around you, studying with you, and eating with you! You are literally the best study buddy I’ve ever had. I love how I can just ask you everything, and you won’t judge me but instead guide me through the basics. You’re always pushing me to my fullest potential and always reassuring me that I’m meant to be where I am. Hahhaha, sometimes, I really do need that type of encouragement, and you always give it to me. You always believe in me, and I want to make you proud. We have such meaningful conversations, and you openly share your culture with me all the time. You’re literally the best. By the way, lets visit Kouba again! I really miss him. I remember when it was our first Christmas together, and you bought me an elephant plush! That was like after a quarter of knowing you too. We somehow got so close so fast, and I’m so grateful for you. I remember our talks about witch doctors and just really deep talks anywhere and everywhere. I love that I can get real with you and share my stories with you. I’m always here for you, girl! (PS. lets take more classes together.) By the way, you ARE SO TALENTED. You have such fantastic art and musical skills. Don’t ever hide it from the world because we need more people like you.

Bryan,

You’re sweet. I don’t care how many times you are going to deny it. You’re just utterly, truly the sweetest. You give everyone a second chance even when they truly don’t deserve it. You have a heart made out of gold. You see the best in people, and you’re never judgmental. Since day 1, you’ve always been so easy to talk to. You love to bring people together, and you love to be around people. You’re a people person. You’re humble and kind. You’re also super funny even when you don’t remember the next day. Hahaha, you truly made NorCal feel more like home for me. I really also freaking love how you don’t understand jokes- just like me! Except maybe too delayed. I think it’s so funny how you will literally laugh FIVE minutes later after the joke has already been told. I’d be like,”what are you laughing about?” Then you’d answer, “the joke earlier.” Shake my head. Hahahah. I also admire the fact that you run for fun every day and then continue to call yourself “out of shape.” (Like how.) You’re always down to hang out and go on adventures. Growing through university with you and sharing our tragic life events together- I cannot wait to see how you’re going to continue to grow and find yourself through university. We’re going to make it out better and stronger by 2020. (Process to 2020, eh? No matter what you hide, you can count on me to get to the core!)

Neil,

Oh Neil, oh Neil. You are someone I can ALWAYS count on. You have my back every time. And you best believe I got yours too. Even if you’re going to vomit all over me, I still won’t let you down. Even when you’re out and about, I’ll still drive you home. You’ve always been so kind to me and you’re HEHlulLA funny- sometimes. Being around you is always going to be a litty titty time. (HAHAHAH) I love hearing your past stories, your struggles with fat mentality, and your hoe stories. I can always get serious with you one minute and the next minute be laughing about how you thought making out was kissing yourself on the floor. You’re such a homie. Or how you say it, HamMEE. You’re so charismatic and lovable. Your smile lights up the room. I remember coming to you and crying about nothing. I ALSO remember when you made me cry in the study lounge as well. I would like to partake in part of your ‘glow up’ when you asked me about whether you should get piercings, and I straight up told you how those baggy ankle jeans and Nike Air won’t get you that ‘look.’ Also that time that I held you back from vomiting as you continued to vomit all over my hand and arm- true friendship. And the time I slept on the couch so that you were forced to clean up your room. You’re welcome. You’re like a brother to me, Neil!! (JaNeil was real.) By the way, you’re super handsome, don’t EVER trip about it or feel as if you’re being too full of yourself by taking second looks in the mirror. You deserve it after working so hard to get to where you want to be!

Eric,

You wizard. Your brain is literally engineering wired- it amazes me. You’re so smart but at the same time soooooo crazy dangerous sometimes. You’re definitely an engineer for sure though. You always find such creative ways to solve problems that I would have never thought of. You fix things when they’re broken and neglected. You’re always so real and straightforward as well. You say it as it is. You’re so fun to talk to and be around. You were also one of the first to make me feel as if NorCal was home. You are such a great friend, and I love that I can always come to you with my problems and you’d literally just sit at your desk and listen to me ramble on and on. By the way, thank you for always observing my cooking and telling me that I cannot boil water at medium heat. Hahaha. You used to be such a grandpa and sleep at like 11PM, but woah did that change. You sleep at like, what, 1AM? Insane. It’s always great to see you out of your comfort zone too. You need to get out of that comfort zone more, Eric!! You need to just let loose and let those spaghetti arms and daddy long legs do whatever they want to do! Another note, you are always so prepared. Literally, for everything. I am SO SORRY that I have used up all of your Tylenol. I will get you a new bottle, so that I can use it again. Hahaha, just kidding. But seriously, you are so resourceful and I know that you literally have everything just an arms length away. You’d survive an apocalypse. But then again, you did slide down the staircase head first.

Brandon,

I still don’t remember meeting you at all. It’s quite funny how I literally only remember celebrating your birthday with complete strangers. You have always shown me so much love and care. I remember when you walked me back from formal in the dark because I hate the dark. That was very nice of you. Then we just sat in Bryan and Eric’s room to talk until like 4AM. You always try your best to be so patient with me when teaching me about physics and never questioning how I don’t understand anything. Your passion for dentistry has made me really excited for dentistry, and it’s so nice having someone to talk about toothpaste and flossing with. You’re so kind and the way you think about others always amazes me and brings me to tears. I’m so excited to be your co-dental head for this upcoming year. I’m so excited to see this professional side of you as we make Benit and Roger proud. I really look up to you, Brandon. Please get into dental school and show me your ways! You’re literally so knowledgeable and resourceful. Thanks for all of the curry and pasta in return for all of the times I gave you my end products in organic chemistry lab because you always somehow failed to collect enough products or even have reliable data. Shake my head. Thanks for being weird and such a breath of fresh air.

Andy,

You keep it one hundo. You will always say things the way you think it should be. You’re so knowledgeable about literally everything. You always know bits and bobs here and there. It’s so easy to talk to you and learn more from you. I also admire how hard working you are, yet so relaxed at home. You work so much, and I don’t know how you do it!! I remember asking you once why you work so much and you responded, “well, I have 16 hours that I don’t anything so might as well just work.” Hahaha. I really admire that! I have 16 hours that I don’t do anything too, but when I work, I ain’t subtracting any of my work hours from the 16 hours of doing nothing. (Probably why I didn’t work for long, hahah!) You’re a great listener as well! You have such an open mind and you always logically think things out when us girls are literally overthinking things and being extra as hell. Or whenever we’re stuck, you’re always willing to help out. I can always count on you, Andy! Thank you for always being here for everyone. I remember how shy you were when we first hung out, but then as you warmed up to us, you got real quirky. You’re such a unique individual, and I am so excited to see what the future holds for you!

Rheymart,

Bish. I don’t even know where to start. My first out-of-same-dorm friend at Davis. It was a sea of college students taking MAT17A at like some absurd time in the morning and from a distance, I spotted you. You were SO easy to talk to the moment I came up to you. You gave me your number right away, we clicked so fast, and we’re now friends for life. Hahaha. I love how extra you are. You’re a drama queen, but you’re also so shy. I LOVE all of our memories from freshmen year, even though you were a bitch at the end at one point, but I just blame your extra, petty ass for it. You’re hilarious and such a great dancer! This is so random, but remember that one time before our MAT17A final, you took out your angel figurine and legit prayed. That was gold. You always went to office hours with me too, so I thank you for never complaining about me dragging your ass to Kouba’s office hours literally every day. The only reason I got an A in that class. We always have such great memories together. Ugh, I miss seeing your booty popping moves in the dorms and sleeping on the floor in the hallways of Tercero with you. Remember how we pretended we were studying on the floor and “accidentally” fell asleep, so that when someone caught us we’d be like “oh shit, we didn’t mean to! We were just studying.” You’re my partner in crime and remember our pact- if we end up lonely, we’re going to move in together and live life to its fullest!!

Enriquez, Matthew,

You were the first person to introduce me to the college “life.” You are one a kind. You never fail to make me laugh from such smart jokes. You are literally the life of the party. I’m so glad that you approached me that one time that I was eating breakfast alone at the dining commons. Do you remember that? We were just eating cereal together for breakfast. You then somehow got into the topic of pot and parties. It was very interesting with all of your spazzy “woo’s” and “ooo’s” and awkward arm flails. I remember after our brief meeting, we never stopped snapchatting! We became really great friends, and somehow we connected through mutual friends. It’s so baffling how small this world is. I’m so glad to have met someone who is so free-spirited and so intelligent. I remember how after my confrontation with my ex-boyfriend, you messaged me about how you looked up to me and were proud of me. That made me tear up because I never really thought of you as one to really say such things. You were always so out of the loop and all over the place, hahaha, It really touched my heart. I really admire you, Matthew. You are such a bright, entertaining soul. I am so excited to see you doing big things in the future.

Jeff,

Jizz. I remember when I first met you, you were eating vanilla yogurt out of the big tub. You had yogurt ALL OVER your mouth, but you just didn’t give a damn. You kept eating and boy, did you keep talking and talking. I remember asking one of the other boys, “does Jeff talk this much?” Hahaha! I always get pulled into your conversations, and they are so inappropriate for the real world but you always got a point. You always do. You’re so loud and funny at home, but in public you’re such a good kid!! Hahaha, that facade you got on is too good. I’m so glad I got the chance to get to know you. You’re such a real one and your boujie clothes/fashion style are A+. You always make me laugh, and it’s never a bad moment when I’m around you! (Remember when we had a deep conversation in the middle of your room, and you legit out of nowhere just decided to strip into your pajamas.) I can’t wait to spend the next couple of years in college with you. You’re such a joy to be around, and I hope to one day conquer the Picnic Day scavenger hunt with you!

End note: I know this was such a long post, but I seriously could have kept going on and on about each and every one of you. You all hold such a special place in my heart. Y’all have been here for me through my ups and downs. I understand true friendship because of y’all. You are the reason I love Davis, the reason I look forward to coming back up after break even though I’m so, so family oriented and homesick all the time. Thank you for everything and for always pushing me to be the best version of myself while at the same time telling me to let go and relax every now and then. You are all so individually unique, and I don’t think I would have ever been able to find a more wholesome, perfect group to be around anywhere else. I understand why I’m where I am, and it’s because we were all destined to meet. We’re literally family away from home. My university experience would have never been the same without you all. Here’s to us, the Sleepy Pasta Bitches, est Fall 2016.

From the very bottom of my heart,

Janet Nguyen

Dear Davis, **Disclaimer: This is a really, really long post.** You have not only provided me with a wealth of knowledge and opportunities but you've equipped me with probably…

#best friends #College #davis #friends #friendship #hardship #life #love #university

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