#pretend with me that its still october the 2nd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neutron-stars-collision · 3 years ago

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 9 - Heart Attack

Masterlist; Chapter 8 Summary: "I didn't know where else to go", or an eventful night increases its intensity. Warnings: Mentions of bruising and other wounds; suggestive content (this is where the 18+ content begins to creep in... slowly though 😌); swearing. Author's Notes: You know how sometimes you get inspired and then a scene haunts you for at least a month before you can write it down? That's what happened here. It's the first moment of those that nagged me since I started outlining the story. And it came out alright, me thinks.... Originally this was meant to be only the first half of the chapter but I want to offer it sooner, because I'm a little excited. Canon wise, we're on Saturday night, 2nd of October before the memorial ✨ Hope you'll enjoy and let me know what you think? Taglist: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim

Everything felt like a hazy dream as Bruce led you inside the elevator and closed the metal door, pressing to button to one of the upper floors without as much as a glance in your direction. But you still felt watched, observed with caution as if he was worried that another breakdown was just around the corner. The wave has passed, leaving you somehow more drained than before and equally numb.

There was a hint of something else there, too, hidden underneath the surface of your empty stare and motionless body. It was the warmth of his hand holding yours. The proximity of him so close to you in the cramped space. It was everything you tried to escape but never could ignore for long. Everything you had told him and everything you were worried you one day could.

The consciousness only caught up as you registered that Bruce began leading you outside the cabin into a corridor that was not the study. Erratically, your eyes swept over the surroundings, desperate to remember that initial tour Alfred gave you days before. And then it clicked. Just as he stopped by dark, closed doors and reached out for the handle:

“Wait… this is your room” the words pieced themselves together before you knew you had spoken.

Because it seemed almost impossible. Maybe, he, too, had lost his mind?

The look you received seemed far from insanity. Bruce eyed you closely, judging what response to offer before he nodded once and replied:

“Yes. Is that a problem?” the question was genuine; you could tell as much.

As if he was willing to change whatever the plan he envisioned if only to make you more comfortable. Your heart squeezed in embarrassment as your cheeks flushed with warmth. It was a shame that made you drop the gaze, focusing on the floorboards underneath your feet as you fumbled for the answer.

“No, I’ve just never expected you to-” luckily, reason stepped in before you said too much, changing the subject with an apologetic note “No matter, I’m sorry” raising your head, you attempted a quick smile only to end up with a pathetic grimace.

Bruce was not as merciful. With a surprise, you noticed a shadow of an authentic smile grace his face as he finished the sentence with an arched eyebrow:

“Never expected me to show you my bedroom?” the hint of cockiness was new.

Your eyes widened as you took it in, already overwhelmed with feelings and emotions you would rather pretend never existed. But judging by the intensity of the blue eyes fixed on your face, there was no way out but to answer. So, you averted the gaze once again and lowered your voice to a whisper. Anything to preserve the illusion.

“Let’s just say… No, no, I didn’t” the truth at last.

Bruce did not reply, instead, he pressed down the handle, opening the door and gently beckoning you to step inside. After a final moment of hesitation, you took that first step, eyes, open wide to take in whatever the sight would await you.

“Sorry for the mess, by the way. I’m not used to having girls around” as he threw in the remark with that cheeky tone, Bruce reached to press the light switch.

It took you a beat to understand the allusion; a bashful blush spread over the cheeks for the second time in barely a few minutes.

“Aren’t you, really?” muttering the reply with a sceptical tint, you took another step inside the room.

With the lights on, you could finally have a proper look at what your curious heart desired to see for quite a while. The heavy curtains were drawn, bathing the room in a permanent dusk. The large bed was unmade, the sight quirking your lips inadvertently. The comment about the mess was not exactly unnecessary. You could see the books piled up on the nightstand and the floor right next to it, each started going by the bookmarks, yet none finished. Atop the desk by the wall, you could see stacks of papers, arranged but not neatly. There was a small photograph there, too, of young Bruce with his parents as far as you could tell. As if responding to an emotion you could not name, your heart let out a painful pang, and you averted the gaze.

The dark, antique wardrobe was half-closed with a black suit jacket sleeve poking through the gap. So, he did wear smart clothes too… Behind your back, Bruce quietly closed the door and eyed you with interest. As though your blatant study was not anything unexpected but a fascinating sight for him as well. Another blush, damn it. As if sensing your embarrassment, he spoke up:

“I figured it’s better I took you here to deal with everything” following the explanation, Bruce scanned you from head to toe again as if assessing the damage, “Alfred and Dory are definitely asleep by now” you had a feeling the addition served only as means of calming you further.

And it did work, admittedly. Because at least that way, you only had to worry about being honest with him and telling the story just once. Everyone else might not even have to know it happened.

Or that you visited Bruce Wayne in his bedroom at an ungodly hour. That, too, was a questionable choice on your part. Ignoring the increase in doubts, you nodded:

“Yeah, of course,” there was nothing else to say as you located the doors leading to the bathroom.

Without waiting for Bruce to invite you, you slowly limped inside, perching on the edge of the bathtub. Even here, there was no order, only closed cupboards, and a full laundry basket. Despite the curiosity ever so present, you denied yourself the pleasure of snooping around. After all, Bruce seemed surprisingly open, and you have crossed the unwritten lines multiple times during the night. Bruce joined you in the bathroom, wordlessly opening the cupboard to take out a disinfectant and a nondescript ointment, which you expected to be arnica. Once he was armed with a fresh cloth and a bowl of water, he faced you with that nervous frown on his face:

“I want to have a look… Is that okay?” judging by the sheepish tone, the tension caught up with him too, forcing Bruce to face the reality you had suffered since stepping inside his house.

Because it was new. No matter the intimate kisses you had shared or the conversations you initiated, this level of vulnerability was something else entirely. And for the first time in your life, there was no shred of confidence as you tried to strengthen the back and prepare to reveal the wounds.

“Yes,” another nod, the word coming out in a whisper as Bruce closed the gap and gently tipped your head up to see the cheek where you received the slap.

Judging by how the crease between his brows deepened, the damage received was evident. His fingers brushed your cheek carefully, dabbing the wet cloth with the other hand to wash away the tears and remains of the make-up. Up this close, with your head tilted upwards and eyes fixed on the sharpness of his jawline, clenched tightly, as he leaned over you with a focused gaze, it was difficult to breathe. Or to think. So, you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and feeling how his fingers danced over your skin, caution exhibited with each move. After cleaning the bruise, Bruce rubbed arnica into the spot over your cheekbone where you expected the purple flower to bloom the most. Then, as if reading your mind, his hand wandered lower, the pad of the thumb running over the bottom lip and forcing you to gasp quietly, unable to keep yourself from looking at him. Your gazes met as Bruce made sure to wipe the dried blood from your lips. Only he did not stop there, taking an additional moment to trace the outline of your mouth as if eager to steal your breath away and to put you under a spell. Pity was that you were already entranced, staring at him speechless. Because before you even realised, he crossed an invisible line himself. One that divided the passionate kisses from the tender caress. One that made sure you never dared entertain the idea that what was going on could evolve into something else. Unless….

Bruce took a decisive step back before you could finish the dangerous thought, his eyes already trained on your scrapped knee. You had no time to react as he kneeled in front of you, the cloth in hand, face closed off as if the last minute never happened. A sigh was all you could manage as you allowed him to tear the remains of the tights a bit more and wipe away the dirt from the wound.

“So, when are you going to ask what happened?” desperate not to lose your sanity all too soon, you asked quietly, watching him with interest.

There was a strange sense of ease in his movement as if it was not the first time he had to patch someone up after an accident. Or a fight, at that.

Upon your question, Bruce glanced up, the blue eyes staring at you with terrifying understanding within:

“When you’ll want to tell me,” and, just like that, he went back to the task, leaving you gaping.

Cursing his tone, you let out another loud sigh:

“Wish you’d stop being so diplomatic” first, merely a mutter before you settled in for an answer; better now or never, right? “I went to Inferno to do some… research. Guess I wasn’t too believable on my own, so they showed me where my place is” you shrugged even though he was not looking and tentatively patted your stomach, feeling the sore spots.

Not too believable, aka pathetic. But he need not hear that one.

“Who did?” Bruce spoke quietly yet with a sense of urgency.

As if you had no choice but to give him names. For a moment, your rebellious heart was keen to go along with it. To let yourself believe that he would be bothered, that he would care. But it was only a moment.

“Some bouncers… I don’t even know” unable to let go of the vicious commentary from your brain, you added quickly, “I’m sorry,”

Hoping he would not ask. You really should have known better.

“For?” Bruce raised his head again, eyebrow arched in question.

Without waiting for an answer, he touched the scrape with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant, making you hiss at the sting. The pain acting as a trigger to get the words out just like you wanted:

“I don’t know… everything. Getting into your house at 1 in the morning, making you fuss over me in your bathroom” the bitter tone seeped into the sentence as the transgressions came back to haunt you.

There was so much wrong with what you did. So much that could make him reject you for good. This time Bruce did not look away as you shyly met his gaze and kept staring, allowing the blue to pull you further. With the current vantage point, you were still nearly head-to-head. An observation made when your eyes glanced at his lips and found them dangerously close. Too close.

“There’s nothing worth apologizing for” the thoughts got cut short by Bruce’s opposition and the depth of certainty you found in his gaze.

You were pretty sure he was wrong, but it was impossible to argue. Not in this situation. Not with him so close and so gentle. The feeling only persisted as he asked another question:

“Where else did they hit you?” he eyed you coolly as if eager to find a fault.

Only underneath the superficial analysis, you could see a tint of hunger. As if, despite the steely composure and evident desire to keep things civil, Bruce did see you. As more than a partner needing a patch up. More than a victim, turning to a friendly soul when in need. The realization made the breath catch in your throat as you slowly raised the hem of the shirt to show him the torso. You did not even look, choosing to observe him instead.

The clue was given instantly as Bruce let out a quiet gasp, inching closer to you so that he could gingerly trace his fingers over your ribcage. His eyes darkened, another flash of anger in the irises. But why? You did not dare let yourself answer that question. Feeling the familiar pain resonate through your system upon his ministrations, you closed your eyes, hands digging into the edge of the old-fashioned bathtub to keep yourself from whimpering. After all, he did not need a disobedient patient or one that cannot take the pain that was partially a result of stupidity. Your stupidity, no one else’s.

“Why did you go there alone?” the quiet question cut through the vicious thoughts, making you focus back on him.

This time you did not want to see whether he was looking at you. Let alone how he was looking. Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you forced out a bitter voice:

“You mean why was I dumb enough?” there was no sound from Bruce, letting you pour out the feelings without a pause, “I just wanted to feel useful. To have something to do when you’re busy with your informant” tinting the word with excess venom, you went quiet.

If he had no clue before, he did now. Warmth flushed your cheeks as the embarrassment dawned. Not only stupid but also jealous. Over someone, you had no right to. He wasn’t yours.

Spiralling into the hateful thoughts, you did not notice when Bruce finished applying the arnica over the bruises. What you did notice was a kiss he pressed to the spot, the lingering touch of his lips to your reddened skin. Your eyes flew open. Brain rendered useless by a blue screen of death. Alternatively, the utter shock of something so simple yet so unexpected. And so desired.

Bruce pulled back without another second wasted; he gave you a final searching look and stood up. One glance at him was enough to assure you the moment was over. Maybe for the better. There were no cheeky comments to be found as you watched him leave the bathroom and rummage in the wardrobe, only to come back with a set of clothes in the next minute.

“Here, have something for change” giving out the simple instruction, Bruce barely looked at you.

His gaze stayed fixed on the floor as you nodded quickly, whispering thanks. It seemed that whatever possessed him minutes before had truly passed. You were back to normal: awkward, uncertain, and bereft of words and wisdom.

“I’ll be outside” with that, he was gone, shutting the bathroom door without making a noise.

A long sigh was the first reaction as you hid your face in your hands, cursing everything and everyone. For the whole evening. For the way, he was acting. For the power, he had over you without ever reaching for it. He just did. And it seemed like he did not cherish it either. Fuck.

Sometimes it felt like you could implode from everything you felt inside but could not express. The aching, longing, needing something that was outside of your reach. And would always stay right there. Close enough to tempt you into madness, but never to be yours. Another sigh escaped your lips as you stood up and quickly stripped, averting the reflection in the mirror. The clothes Bruce gave you consisted of one of his trademark black t-shirts with the washed-out logo and sweatpants. Too big, naturally. But as soon as you put them on and felt his scent envelop you whole, there was a fleeting feeling of comfort. Of knowing that although he was not yours, you had a part of him. No matter how unimportant.

Once you checked that your face was clean of the residual make-up, nothing was holding you back from reemerging from the bathroom. Apart from maybe the fear itself. Swallowing down the anxious bile in your throat, you pushed the door open, slowly peeking around the frame to locate Bruce. It did not take long as he stood with his back turned, staring at the photograph on the desk. You cleared your throat quietly to grab his attention and smiled shyly once he turned towards you. The air felt electric with awkward tension that had taken all your words and rendered them useless. So far that all you felt capable of was staring at him and waiting for cues towards the next step in the complex game. Bruce must have noticed your paralysis, for he took a step closer and spoke:

“You can stay here and get some sleep” following his gesture towards the bed, you realised he had made it up when you were in the bathroom and smoothed out the covers.

Feeling the overwhelming flush of gratitude and something else, unnameable still, you quickly interjected, the feelings tying up your tongue and rushing the words:

“Oh, no, I can go to the room Alfred gave me,” the turndown coming out weak and making you curse internally.

Because agreeing seemed like yet another boundary overstepped in an hour. The idea alone was enough to bring a darker shade of embarrassment onto your cheeks and plunge your mind into the depthless pit of inescapable thoughts. One look at Bruce told you he did not care about your refusal as he bounced back the reply with a tone that left no room for discussion:

“There’s no need. I don’t sleep much” following the comment with a thin smile, he took a step towards the door, evidently eager to escape, “I’ll be in the library if you need anything,”

“Thank you” there was nothing else to do but whisper the courtesy and stare at him, hoping to convey even a half of your feelings through the act.

It did not matter what he saw as he met your gaze. Whether it was the confusion, longing, or appreciation because you knew they were all true, all present. There was curiosity there, too, unsatisfied and ever-growing. Unable to let go and settle down until you understood him, his mind, and his heart.

As if prodded by a similar stream of thoughts, Bruce started speaking again with a quiet, measured tone that betrayed the nerves underneath:

“And- If you’re worried about her, about Selina, don’t. Whatever I have with her it’s nothing compared to this, to us” you noticed a shade of pink on his cheeks just as he turned away, opened the door, and disappeared in the corridor.

Between one beat and the next, you were alone with the sentence still ringing in your ears. Selina. The name rolled over your tongue silently with a frown on your face. Us. The pronoun sticking to your consciousness like a most intrusive of ideas, spinning faster through the mind. You knew he meant it as a reassurance, clearing out the air between you before it got entangled further. It was a welcomed change as you still felt a dangerous thrill of desire wash through upon the reminder about the kiss he lay on your ribcage. But it did not solve anything, only making the incessant hopes harder to discard and daydreams impossible to ignore. Especially, when you could still smell his scent, clinging to the clothes you borrowed. A frustrated groan tore at your throat as you approached the desk, hoping to take your mind off enough to lie down.

Refusing to glance at the family photo for the fear of awakening grief, you directed your attention to the stacks of mysterious papers and notebooks. One glance at the pages told you that they mostly consisted of his private writing; the discovery was enough to make you drop the paper as though you had been burned. Your presence alone in his bedroom seemed like a betrayal even though he was the one who let you in. With the mind busy with frustrating thoughts, you flipped through the piles mindlessly, unable to tell what you were looking for. Suddenly, a familiar sketch caught your attention, the page falling from your hands onto the desk like an omen. The bat symbol, very much like the knife welded into the breastplate of Vengeance’s armour, only here not perfected. As if it was one of the practice sketches, the blueprint of the object before it had been created. But it made no sense. Absolutely no fucking sense.

Quite like Bruce Wayne made no fucking sense. Because if he- But he couldn’t be. Why would he? Why would he go undercover to fight crime? Why? The simple question reverberated in your head, the echo creating a blooming headache at your temples. You dropped the page again, letting it fall between the papers. Perhaps it was just the tiredness and the trauma taking its toll. Perhaps, perhaps.

With shaking hands, you collected the pages and rearranged them back in stacks, checking twice if the faithful sketch was lost in between. It would be best to forget it even happened. To wipe the discovery from your mind and never mention it to anyone. Because, surely, it was just a coincidence. Right?

Eager to get rid of the growing unease, you slipped between the silky covers, letting your head bury in the soft pillow. It was a mistake as soon the smell engulfed you again, tearing at the purulent wound in your chest. His smell. A reminder that all this could crumble, leaving you alone and rejected. Again. The parting remark flew back into the forefront of your mind as if called back upon by the delusional heart unwilling to let him go. Just for a little longer. Just for the night, perhaps. Reaching for the switch by the bedside light, you allowed the darkness to envelop the room. In the dark, there were no shadows to disturb your blissful ignorance. There you could rest, even if for a short while.

***

When you woke up next, the room was still pitch dark with no light coming in through the gaps in the curtains. At once, everything came back, helping you identify the unfamiliar bed and the clothes smelling like someone else. The headache had eased, becoming a throbbing discomfort at the back of your head. As you slowly sunk back into reality, the mind acknowledged something else that was different, something new.

Someone was lying right next to you on the bed. Bruce. The name left your throat with a gasp of air as you shifted on your side to look at him. He was sound asleep, the measured breaths coming out through the parted lips and the face relaxed. The breath caught in your chest as you watched him, unable to process what it meant. There was a dilemma now, beginning to form in your thoughts. Whether to go back to sleep as if nothing happened and bet on the likelihood that he would be gone by morning? Or to act on what you knew could destroy everything yet was so hard to deny? It would have been easy to reach out towards him, get closer and wrap your arms around his body. To let him decide the next step.

Frustration boiled in your veins as you felt the heat bloom across the cheeks, making you fist the duvet to keep yourself from making a noise. That is when you registered the change in Bruce’s breathing, the calm cadence disturbed and ragged. His hands moved restlessly, and his forehead creased in a sign of distress. When he released a first quiet whimper, you knew the nightmare was not passing on its own. The anxiety kicked in as the adrenaline helped you act with bravery you did not know you had. First, slowly moving towards Bruce, letting your hand touch his arm with a featherweight. It did not work. His face tensed as the fears raged on, keeping him locked within their steel cage and far from you. Sitting up, you leaned over him slightly to press your palm to his cheek, feeling the warmth of the skin:

“Bruce, wake up,” a whisper, laced with urgency upon seeing the struggle rise in strength, “It’s just a nightmare” you took hold of one of his hands, squeezing tightly to keep it steady.

It was difficult to tell when he woke up or whether it was any of your actions or some external trigger. Only, before another word of reassurance could leave your lips, his eyes snapped open. In a flash, Bruce rolled over, pinning you to the bed with your locked hands over your head. You gasped sharply, feeling a wave of shock pass through the system as you gazed up at him. His eyes were wide with fear; heavy breaths came through the parted mouth at irregular intervals as though he was struggling with it. There was no question of what to do next.

With your palm still pressed to his face, you resumed the gentle caress, waiting for him to return fully. Two sharp blinks, and it downed. The recognition flashed through the troubled blue eyes as Bruce’s face contorted with remorse and shame. His lips opened as if to offer an apology, but you were quicker, using the proximity to press a kiss to the crease between his eyebrows. Then another one over the forehead, letting your touch linger with each to ground him. Bruce let out a long exhale, relaxing the grip over your hand yet not moving away.

With the heart racing in your chest, you felt your body acknowledge how close he was, sensing the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. The knee lodged between your thighs as if to taunt you. His chest flush against yours, feeling the beat of his heart through the fabric. There was no chance of getting out of it sane. And you stopped hoping you could, letting go of the restraint and allowing the emotions to reign free. The inherent yearning made you lay another kiss, this time, on his cheek and lean back to meet his gaze. The fear gave way to boundless gratitude and longing, pulling you in and bringing a soft smile to your face.

Your hand kept stroking his face, allowing Bruce to relax and decide for himself. With his body so close and enveloping you, it was impossible to think or find logic. There was only hunger and fascination, burning in your veins and making you lean closer again, nudging his nose with yours as if to remind him of the potential. It was enough. Bruce took a deep breath as if diving deep underwater and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. A tentative peck, as though it was the very first time, and then reaching out for more and prodding your mouth open. You deepened the contact with a sigh that he swallowed and slid your hand to the back of his neck, toying with the hair ends and bringing him closer. As your tongue entangled with his, Bruce let his teeth graze over your bottom lip. The hand that has held onto yours letting go and trailing down your arm to venture underneath the shirt. Upon the touch of his fingers over your bare skin, you made sure to up the tempo, kissing him with a need that could not be easily satisfied. If only because once he was there and willing, you could not hold back. No matter the pain that could await in the morning. No matter the regrets that would surely follow. Bruce was there, and that was enough.

His hand wandered up your torso with a torturous pace, as if desperate to learn the texture of your skin by heart. As if you were a canvas, he wanted to memorise through his fingertips. A frustrated whine got caught in your throat as Bruce cupped your breast, showing impatience of his own. He broke the kiss and met your fevered gaze with wide blue eyes. As if it was too much to take in, as if he never expected the situation to go that far. An unasked question waited for you in the depths of his stare.

“It’s okay,” the answering whisper was laid to rest on the corner of his mouth, urging him to continue.

After a beat, he nodded, swallowing down the uncertainty and slowly caressing your breast to bring out another gasp. It was too easy to get lost and see what he would do next. Eager to retaliate any way you could, you trailed your hands down his back, hoisting the t-shirt over the stomach and allowing your fingers to explore the territory. The jagged scarred tissue underneath your fingertips, the warmth of his flesh and the gentle rise and fall of his stomach all persuading you to continue and increase your curiosity. It was the anchor grounding the desire you could feel building up in your system, threatening to overwhelm soon if you were not careful.

As if aware of the chaos unfolding in your body, Bruce dragged a hand down your thigh, bringing out goosebumps in its wake and leaned in to trail pecks from the edge of your jaw. Before you could foresee his next move, it was too late. A first, slow kiss placed on the side of your neck acted like a harsh reminder. A jolt passed through your body, warmth pooling in the lower stomach as if anticipating it could only get worse. Or better. Emboldened by your shivers, Bruce increased the intensity of the kisses, taking his time with each. Every kiss spiced with his teeth, catching your skin to find that tipping point of madness. Fuck. Soon enough, all you could do was bite back the moans and dig your fingernails into the flesh of his toned stomach, undoubtedly marking him just like he marked you. A gasp for a gasp. A scar for a scar. Nothing measured, nothing held back but in perfect balance. The promise of so much more waiting just within your reach.

The idea alone made you realise how wet you were getting. The fabric of the underwear sticking to the skin and making you clench your thighs in anticipation. Only his knee was the obstacle, forcing you to hoist your leg over his hip, bringing him closer. The telling reaction, a deep-throated groan and a possessive grasp at your thigh were the payback. You could feel the impatience in the way Bruce ravished your neck, peppering your skin with kisses and tasting it with his tongue. As if you were an object he wanted to study, a case to crack with meticulous detail and devotion. Enough to make you hungrier, clinging to his hips and hooking the fingers around the band of the sweatpants to feel the v bones and abdomen beneath your fingertips.

That is when you crossed the line, unaware yet very soon to discover it. Bruce finished the exploration of your neck with a gentle kiss over the pulse point and leaned back to look at you. The sight of his flushed cheeks and swollen lips with the pupils blown wide made you gasp quietly, reaching back to cup his face and trace the shape of his mouth. The darkened eyes told the tale that he never would, a story of want and desire consuming the senses. And, at the centre of the narrative was your place. Yours, and no one else’s. Between one heartbeat and the next, you knew that no matter what happened tomorrow or the day after, you had this. His body beneath your hands. The taste of his tongue on yours. And it was good enough.

Good enough to survive the following disappointment. His brow furrowed as you gazed at each other, suspended in the state of hesitation, the desperation had not reached its peak just yet. Before you could find the necessary words, Bruce spoke with regret hazing the husky tone of his voice:

“I’m sorry, I can’t… do this” as if highlighting the meaning, he let go of you without a warning and rolled back onto his back.

The breath you did not know you had been holding left your lips with a whoosh. The lack of satisfaction was burning in the pit of your stomach as you clenched your thighs and swallowed the frustration. He was still here, and it had to count for something. Right?

“It’s okay,” ignoring the gaping hole in your chest you turned onto your side to ask the most important of questions “Do you want me to leave?”

It was that simple. Because although he had not stormed off or run away from you, did not mean you were welcomed still. It did not mean that you could stay in his bed, in his clothes. In his arms.

You waited with bated breath for the answer, watching him as Bruce stared at the darkened windows, lying motionless save for the rise and fall of his stomach. After what felt like ages, he broke the heavy silence with a response:

“That’s the last thing I want” his voice was still tinted with desire, lowering the tone and adding a layer of meaning behind each word.

It was enough for you. Putting back the steely control in place, you scooted closer to take the hand he had lying on his stomach and entwined your fingers tightly. Once it was clear Bruce was alright with it, you pressed your body against his side and nuzzled the crook of his neck. He felt like safety, like someone you could lean on. The unspoken gratitude rang through your tender hold as Bruce squeezed your fingers and moved to give you more space on his side of the mattress. You took it without a question, curling around him to make sure he felt your presence and everything you wanted him to understand through it. That you were there. That whatever happened did not change a single thing. And that you were willing to come back to it one day. Soon, perhaps.

“Then let’s try to get some more sleep” instead, you only whispered the simple sentence, closing your eyes with your face pressed to the skin of his neck.

The last thing you registered was the pleasant weight of his arm sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. A smile spread your lips, pulling the consciousness into the dreamless rest.

***

The second time you woke up in Bruce Wayne’s bed, it was already morning. The daylight was streaming in through the gap between the curtains. Blinking away the sleep, you registered that the space right next to you was still warm but empty. He was gone. The faint taste of disappointment settled on your tongue as you let your eyes roam over the room. During the day, the space looked even more cluttered, yet the chaos seemed homely somehow. As if you would have no trouble navigating your way around it. Careful. The cautionary voice rang out in your head as the door to the ensuite bathroom creaked and opened. Your gaze was on the doorway in no time, awaiting him with a balanced mixture of anxiety and anticipation. A final thought was spared to the undeniable bedhead you were sporting before all the coherence was wiped clean from your brain.

Bruce was right there, frozen on the threshold as his eyes locked with yours. His dark hair was damp from the shower and combed back, the droplets of water falling onto his shoulders. He was shirtless, a fresh t-shirt in hand as if he was not anticipating you to be awake just yet. On their own accord, your eyes drifted downward, over the sharp shadows of the collarbones and the outline of the abs on his stomach. Until you found what you were looking for. The thin, pink lines scratched across his abdomen. The marks you had laid upon him in return for a hint of pleasure. Your body heated, remembering the night, and you quickly pulled back the duvet to sit up, forcing a gentle smile to make up for the lack of words. It did the trick. Bruce returned your expression and hesitantly crossed the distance to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Morning, gorgeous” your grin widened upon his double-take as you reached your hand in his direction, hoping he would meet you in the middle.

You did not have to wait long.

“Good morning” Bruce smiled shyly as his fingers entangled with yours in the loose hold, resting on the duvet, “How… How did you sleep?” once the question was out, he blushed a darker shade.

As if his brain also decided to offer a specially selected reel of the best from the previous night. With that at the forefront of your mind, it was impossible not to tighten the hold over his palm and quirk your lips into a cheeky smirk:

“Great. Especially since you showed up” dropping your gaze to his lips and making sure he noticed, you moved an inch closer.

To show that you were willing to continue. Even now. You could see how his breath hitched, the hand resting in your twitching slightly.

A sharp knock rattled through the wooden doors, making you both jump up as if caught in the act.

Well, some sort of an act.

“Bruce,” Alfred’s voice rung as the only warning you were going to get before he opened the door and peeked inside “Do you know if-” the moment his eyes landed on the two of you, you could see the shock resounding on his face, a hasted apology tumbling over the tongue as embarrassment washed over the butler “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’re here” that last part was aimed at you without a doubt.

You could only offer him a shrug, letting go of the shame that hung in the air even though there was no reason. Or almost no reason. Not daring to look at Bruce, who had his head hung in humiliation, you grinned at the older man with a mock salutation to your invisible top hat:

“Top of the morning, Alfred,” arching your eyebrow to show that you did not mean any grudge towards him.

Only, just a teeny, tiny regret.

203 notes · View notes

ggukkieland · 4 years ago

Text

📕CURRENT READS (2020 November)

🌹 Almost done with the list except for a few and I am excited to curate fics that are fitting for merry December 🎅❄🎄🤶 woot woot!

I enjoyed this month’s reads - a mix of cyberpunk au, android au, werewolf aus, slice of life, exes and those on the verge of breaking up, and lots of beautifully-written drabbles which ended up in my list of favorites.

Please send these authors some love by reblogging their content =)

✅ - done reading | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]

Still reading the ongoing series from October’s reading list, whenever there is an update 😊.

Onyx @springbean - JJK | ABO universe, omega!reader, rouge!Alpha!Jungkook, roommates, cyberpunk au | A, F (this is so fascinating)

[2/?] years after the war, Soketh has become a bustling electric city of life and death. a world now filled with mystery, danger, and rules, y/n finds herself rooming with her old friend while trying to find herself in the city of dangerous dreams. however, her world is turned upside down when a rouge alpha enters their life seeking refuge and help…

Vulgar and Divine @yeoldontknow - JHS | elf!hoseok au, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, fantasy au, horror, suspense | A, S

[1/?] The Elf King buys your hand in marriage as an act of political strategy - you, the Banshee Priestess and your ability to forewarn death in exchange for your people’s return to your original home in the River Lands. You hate him for the way his kind make a mockery of death. Even before you meet him, you decide you will not grieve his death - not even a little. But then, on the day of your wedding you begin to weep - and it is not out of love or rapture.

Kitchen Confidential @glitter-kookiedough - KSJ | chef au, slow burn, enemies to lovers | A, F, S

[3/?] After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change. 🌟 new chapter🌟

enemiestolovers drabble series @sincerelyourfangirl - JJK | enemies to lovers, fwb, co-workers | S, A, F

[3/?] Maybe the line between love and hate is thin. Especially when you’re in bed with Jungkook.

Challenge Accepted | What Happens When You’re not Careful | Risky Business

The Lost Luna @hobisbeautifulass - KTH | werewolf au, soulmate au, rival clans | F, A

[2/?] One Luna is born per a hundred-year cycle or so and only appears after the previous one has passed away. This Luna was forced into hiding for seventeen years, but now she’s back, bloodthirsty, and ready to reclaim her throne.

Mutual Help @personasintro - JJK | bestfriend au, fwb au, fake dating | A, S, F

[24/?] in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it a mutual help

Bite Me @cheeky-kookie - PJM | vampire au | A, F, S

[1/?] Growing up, you always learned to look over your shoulder at night, hoping to never run into the catlike gleam of a vampires eyes. Yet, one night on your way home you find yourself staring into the very things you feared most. Dangerously beautiful and undeniably confident, Park Jimin was everything you knew you needed to stay away from, but he had other plans.

Nut Jobs @ironicarmy - OT7 | slice of life, crack, humor, friends au | S

[5/?] Eight friends. One terrible idea. A whole lot of trouble. Welcome to No Nut November.

Cherry Pickers @kimnjss - JJK | social media au, smau, gamer, fuckboi, vixen!reader, virgin!reader | F, S, A

[4/?] [updates daily] known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

(or, you’re a video vixen with an assumed identity and jungkook manages to see past it.)

Across the Board @out-of-jams - KTH | 20s, gambling, mafia au, enemies to lovers | S, A

[1/?] And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

🥕[Completed AUs/Series/Drabbles - to read]

Through Time and Space @taephilia - 10.6k | KSJ | F, A, sci-fi, time travel au, adventure, doctor who au

re: Untitled @to-star-lake - 18.8k | JJK | A, S, F, ceo au, arranged marriage, childhood acquaintance turned enemies (one of my favorites this month 🥰)

01 02 03 04 ✅

Moral of the Story @suhdays - 7.7k | JHS | A, F, S, strangers to loves, soulmate au, OC can tell if people are telling the truth (really interesting) ✅

In the Margins @bonvoyagenoona - 31k | MYG | F, S, A, writer au, humor, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, editor!reader, writer!yoongi [also on AO3]

01: Winter (5k words) ✅ 02: Spring (6k words) 03: Summer (7k words) 04: Fall (13k words)

Into my Bones @inkofyoongi - 15k | MYG | S, F, A, fwb to lovers, slice of life-ish, non-chronological (this is awesome 🌟) ✅

A Human Touch @snackhobi - 39.1k | KTH | F, S, robot au, android!taehyung

01 ✅ 1.5 02 (will finish the rest of the chapters; this is so good)

Supply and Demand @scribblemetae - 5.7k | MYG | S, A, supernatural au, telepathic!myg, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers ✅

More than Us @jeongi - 11.3k | KTH | F, S, college au, roommate au, best friend to lovers

Moirai @jimlingss - 46.9k | KTH | F, A, isekai au, fantasy au, reborn as a villain in a video game

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Taking Flight @rmnamjoons - 15.2k | KNJ | S, sci-fi, post-apocalypse, rivals to friends to lovers au

Lining’s Silver @sketchguk - 14.1k | MYG | S, F, College au, idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers

Even a Forest Fire Dies Out @9uk - 6.6k | JJK | A, F, exes au (a re-read) ✅

Southpaw @starshapedkookie - 30k | JJK | A, S, F, childhood friends, college au, boxer au, kinda e2l-ish (a re-read, that fight scene was just exhilarating) 🔥🥊 ✅

All That We Had @starlightauroras-writes - 13k | JJK | Heavy A, S, F, exes au, reunion, ex-husband!JK ✅ (author said there’ll be Pt2)

After the Honeymoon Fades @onherwings - 13k | MYG | A, S, F, established relationship (on the rocks), producer!yoongi, professor!OC ✅

Cozy Thief @bratkook - 5.1k | JJK | F, S, roommates au, mutual pining ✅

Quiet Baby by bratkook - 3.2k | JJK | S, established au, pwp, exhibitionism✅

Come Over by bratkook - 7.2k | JJK | S, pwp, neighbors au, voyeurism ✅

Tear You Apart by bratkook - 17.4k | KTH | S, pwp, slight horror, paranormal

01 ✅ 02 (to read)

Breathe @ephemeralkookie - 6.9k | JJK | A, S, F, exes au, multiple break-ups ✅

Shield @namgukgalore - 18.6k | JJK | F, S, slow burn, security guard!JJK, co-workers au ✅

Imitation of Art by namgukgalore - 9.6k | KTH | F, S, romance, friends to lovers

High School Reunion @btsarmy9593 - 6k | MYG | F, reunion, second chances ✅

One Night Ride by btsarmy9593 - 3.8k | JJK | F, hints of S, college!JK, noona, one night stand au ✅

Off the Table @fakeleaves - 11k | KNJ | A, F, exes to lovers ✅

By its Cover @crystaljins - 38.9k | JHS | F, A, enemies to lovers, demon au, magic/supernatural, witch!reader

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 ✅

Your Eyes Tell @njkbangtan - 40k | JJK | A, F, mild S, soulmate au, roommates au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, a bit sugar baby au, lawyer!reader, artist!jungkook

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 ✅

Popular-ish (drabble series) @hansolmates - 16.1k | JJK | F, S, A, popular!JJK, normie!reader, college au, fwb-ish

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 ✅ 🥰

One More Time (Finale) - 7.3k | reunion ✅

No One @dfdph - 21k | JJK | A, extreme sports, slice of life, epistolary (in form of letters), heavy angst (not kidding! with trigger warnings; written so beautifully but angst may not be for all) ✅

Repercussions: Suspenders, Satin and Stockings @pars-ley - 3.1k | MYG | S, pwp, established relationship ✅

Have Faith in Me @aroseforyoongi - 6.4k | KTH | S, F, werewolf au, soulmates au, bestfriends to lovers ✅

The Art of Boxing @seokiie - 3.1k | JJK | S, pwp, boxing au ✅

Beautiful Confession @btsracket - 6.3k | JJK | S, F, fake dating, friends to lovers ✅

Tongue Tied @btssavedmylifeblr - 12k | PJM | S, F, minor A, crack, demon au, idol verse, established relationship, pwp ✅

Infamous @sugaxjpg - 12.5k | KTH | S, A, secret relationship au, fuckboy au ✅

Familiar Stranger @army-author - 7.3k | KTH | F, friends to lovers, high school au, mixed-up identity ✅

Strangers Again @minniefilms - 11.4k | JJK | A, F, enemies to lovers, best friend’s boyfriend

01 02 03 04 drabble ✅

Ruin Him @kingsuckjin - 3.5k | JJK | S, pwp, virgin!JK, coworker au ✅

Sex Education @extravaguk - 12k | JJK | S, F, A, brother’s best friend, virgin!OC (actually came out fluffier than expected 🥰) ✅

In your Eyes @sweetaesuga - 10.6k | JJK | S, F, A, college au, fratboy au, ex-fuckboy jk, friends to lovers ✅

Drabble Series: In Your Heart [4/11] ✅

Lunar Violence @taetaesbaebaepsae - 7.4k | JJK | S, rock band au, werewolf au, ABO dynamics, strangers to lovers ✅

A Fallen Bookmark on a Thursday Afternoon @cutaepatootie - 19k | JJK | A, F, S, strangers to lovers, takes the same train every Thursday 😭 ✅

There You Are @joonkookiemonster - 13.4k | JJK | F, S, ABO dynamics, werewolf au ✅

Here I Come @jiminssthetic - 3k | JJK | S, pwp, college au, friends to lovers ✅

Morning Rush @atdawnsuga - 3.2k | JJK | S, college au, exhibitionism, strangers ✅

(in)Satiable @thatlongspringnight - 11.3k | JJK | S, F, incubus au, lucid dreams ✅

The Red Pool @ksmuttherapy - 3.1k | JJK | S, horror, vampire au, dusk til dawn vibes

inTOXICated @sugarjaee - JJK | A, S, toxic relationship, college au, fboi au

01 02 03 04 05 06 ✅

Inebriated [Jungkook’s POV] - 7.4k, read after chapter 4 ✅

You’re so Creepy (drabble series) @whatifyoulivelikethat - 2k per member | OT7 | F, crack, university au, creepy girl au, (actually cute)

There’s always at least one campus creepy girl. Or seven. Part 1 (1st kiss) Part 2 (2nd meeting)

kim namjoon - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

kim seokjin - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

min yoongi - part i | part ii ✅

jung hoseok - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

park jimin - part i | part ii (fave) ✅

kim taehyung - part i | part ii ��

jeon jungkook - part i | part ii ✅

🥕[Drabbles]

Feeling @sometimeinjoon - 2.3k | JJK | demon JJK, established relationship, a bit slice-of-life | love this so much ✅🥰

Warmth @artaefact - 306 words | JJK | fluff, fantasy au, incandesce couple ✅

Too Close @taestybae - 1.4k words | JJK | expecting parents au, boxer au, angst ✅

“i’m yours, in every way you’ll have me” by taestybae - 0.8k | KTH | S, A, fwb au ✅

“Are you Sure?” by taestybae - 2k | KTH | S, F, brother’s best friend | love this! ✅ 🥰

“The strings are attached already” @taetaespeaches - 1.8k | KNJ | angst, fwb ✅

Deep End @latetaektalk - 2.2k | MYG | angst, fuckboy au, a bit of fluff ✅

Game Boy @suqakoo - 2.7k | JJK | S, gamer au, enemies to lovers, a bit of fluff ✅🔥

Reese’s It’s All for You @joonkookiemonster - 3.1k | JJK | F, demon au, roommate au, Driving me Wild Halloween Drabble ✅

Transparent @kingsuckin - 793 words | JJK | S, pwp, established relationship, see-through JJK shirt 😉 ✅🔥

Savage Love @whatifyoulivelikethat - | JJK | S, pwp, OC is yoongi’s ex 😬 ✅

🌹 Drabbles by @zephyoongist - I love the way these are written. Just beautiful. Truly fluffy (like butterflies in my stomach) and also gives off a deep/for keeps type of dynamics between the characters:

you and yoongi had an unusual friendship... - 665 words | MYG | fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers ✅🥰

kim taehyung had only met you a few times… - 1.2k | KTH | fluff, accidental pregnancy au ✅🥰 (a fave)

there wasn’t any particular reason as to why min yoongi chose you to be his mate - his luna… - 840 words | MYG | fluff, werewolf au, slice of life ✅🥰

jung hoseok found you when you were about to make the biggest mistake of your life… - 1.5k | JHS | fluff, runaway bride, slice of life | really cute ✅🥰

539 notes · View notes

starsstruck · 5 years ago

Text

shampoo bottles

a friends with benefits gone wrong. harry can’t bring himself to get rid of everything you’ve left at his place after things fall apart. beat up red cars, crumpled sweatshirts and of course, shampoo bottles.

based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit.

pairing: harry x reader words: 6.9k rating: M

a/n: this is just a little something i had inspiration for ! like i said its based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit (great song great band). its an OU but im not regarding tour dates or quarantine or wtv, i just have dates so its easier to follow since i go back and forth a lot ! its a bit of a different writing style than ive done before so hopefully everyone likes it ! would love to hear what you think, and enjoy !

***

November 20th

The shampoo bottles taunted him.

The worst part was Harry wished they weren’t empty. He wished that there was still even a drop left in them so that he could rub it through his own hair. Although having milked them of their last contents weeks ago, they still sat in the corner of his shower.

The smell lingered on them. The sweet smell of some flower, maybe some orange blossom, he didn’t ever really know. All he knew is that he was addicted to the smell, and seeing the bottles sit in the corner as he showered made him feel like he could smell them, like he could smell you.

He remembered the day you brought the bottles over, claiming to be annoyed with the way his shampoo just wasn’t the same. The idea of you smelling like him brought a heat to his stomach, he liked the smell of your shampoo even better. And now the bottles sat there. Taunting him.

October 15th

“What’s with the bag?” Laughing as he pointed at the bag in your hand, he wondered what you could possibly be bringing with you to the washroom.

“Brought my own shampoo,” you pulled a bottle out of the canvas tote bag around you were holding, smile wide on your lips. “And some other things. Hope you don’t mind.”

He jutted his lips out in a mock pout. “What’s wrong with my things?”

“Don’t like your shampoo.” You hummed, disappearing behind the still open door frame that led to the washroom. “Don’t worry! I still like your nice moisturizer, does wonders for my skin.”

He scrambled up in his sheets at the sound of the shower turning on. Standing in the door frame of the washroom, he watched as you pulled off your underwear and dropped them aside. He knew that you could feel him watching you, and that you were pretending not to notice or care.

Stepping into the shower, shutting the glass door behind you as you let the water hit your back. He stayed where he was for a minute, until steam was beginning to fog the glass door that separated you two and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Let me do that,” humming as he stepped into the shower next to you, just as you were reaching for the shampoo bottle that you brought.

“Awfully nice of you,” moving aside slightly, you passed him the shampoo bottle. Moving around so that he stood directly in front of, you letting you stand under the stream of water. Squeezing some shampoo out onto his hand, he put the bottle down and rubbed his hand through your hair.

“Feels nice,” you shut your eyes, Harry watched water droplets fall down your forehead that end up getting caught in your eyelashes. He brough both hands to your head, massaging the shampoo in. Taking extra time to rub his fingertips into your scalp, enjoying the content smile on your lips as you leaned into his touch.

He knew you, he knew you well. In this moment he knew that you were doing it on purpose: the small moans in the back of your throat as he rubbed his hands against your head, the way you arched your back slightly, and the way you titled your head back in the same way you did when his head was between your thighs.

Tilting your head in his hands so that the stream of water hit your scalp, rinsing out the suds. The smell around him was only of the sweet orange blossom mixed with something else, he could never put his finger on it.

“All done,” he grinned, tapping your eyelid gently. He watched as you rubbed the water from your eyes, blinking them open to gaze into his.

He kept his hands around you, dropping to your shoulder as he pulled himself closer to you. Semi hard length pressing into your thigh, your eyes dropped down and were soon followed by your hands. Jolt sent through his abdomen as your warm hands wrapped around him, lightly tugging and pulling.

“’s nice,” he mumbled, feeling the blood leave his brain and relocate between his legs. Your grip tightened around him, thumb rubbing over his tip in a way that made his hips buck into your hand. His grip around you tightened when your eyes met his again, tongue darting out to lick water from your lips.

His legs nearly buckled when you dropped down to your knees, remaining under the shower stream. He didn’t mind being in the colder side of the shower, especially if you were going to be on your knees in front of him.

“Want to get me in your mouth?” His voice nearly surprised him at its hoarseness. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had you like this before, it was just that every time you had your hands on him it drove him completely crazy.

Watching your slow nod, Harry wrapped a hand over your head, tugging on the recently washed strands as he encouraged you. Not able to take his eyes off of you as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, slowly easing him into your mouth until your lips met where your hand was still wrapped around him.

“Look so good like this.”

November 20th

His hand didn’t do you justice, but it was all he had. It was like the smell of your shampoo filled his senses every time he stepped foot in his shower, no every time he stepped foot in his washroom. Every time he saw those goddamn shampoo bottles sitting. Untouched.

He just couldn’t bring himself to throw them out.

Nothing could clear his mind. It had been weeks, and nothing he did could get his mind off of you. Maybe that was his own fault. He knew it was his own fault. His place was littered with traces of you.

Part of him probably got something out of his pain, but he didn’t care.

Not when he couldn’t bring himself to clean out his bathroom, because of the way your toothbrush sat so nicely next to his. Or the way you had brought him some organic soaps, claiming they smelt really good and were made out of all kind of nice essential oils.

He couldn’t even bring himself to use that bar of soap, knowing the more he used it the smaller it would get, and soon it’d be gone.

But his wallowing really hit an all time high when he found your sweatshirt.

He really thought you had taken all your clothes with you. You didn’t leave a lot of them at his place to begin with. Clothes being the one thing you claimed you didn’t need as you helped yourself freely to his closet.

But when he was going through said closet, he found a bunched up blue sweatshirt he had forgotten he kept.

September 2nd

It was an odd rainy night, and Harry didn’t feel like going out. He was no stranger to poor weather, but the rain seemed to be the last thing he needed to decided that he would rather stay in. Relieved when you had shared his opinion, agreeing to come over with a bottle of margarita mix. It was just the two of you, Harry just wanted a calm night in with his friend and maybe a couple drinks, ones they could make themselves.

Soon you were seated on his couch, leaning against the armrest with your feet pointed towards him. Cozy in your sweatshirt, gripping your drink tight between your fingers.

“Would you let me draw one for you?”

You spluttered out a laugh at his request. “God no!” Your laugh deepened when you glanced up at him. “Nothing against you, Harry. Just want a professional to do it.”

The movie put in was long forgotten, now facing each other and talking about where you should get your first tattoo. You had told him what you wanted to get, you just had no idea where it should go.

“Fine,” he huffed, playfully of course. His head felt hazy, couple of drinks have come and gone and he was still nursing another strong cocktail in his hands. “So, where are you gonna get it?”

“That’s the problem,” you muttered, taking a big sip of your drink. “I don’t think I want it really visible, like not on my arms or anything.”

Harry nodded, knowing that you were nervous about regretting a tattoo. “You thinking maybe around your ribs?”

He watched as you lifted your sweatshirt a bit, finger tips brushing over your ribcage. “I don’t know – heard it hurts really bad there.”

“Not too much,” Harry thought over his own experience, although knowing you were a bit more uneasy with needles.

“I was thinking like,” you patted the spot where you hipbone was. “My hip. Kind of cute, no?”

He bit back a smile. “Very cute.” The alcohol spoke before he could. He thought it was much more than cute, he thought that a tattoo on your hip was the best idea you’d had in years.

“Plus it’s kind of,” you paused, licking your lips. “Intimate.”

He sucked in a breath. He didn’t like the idea of someone else finding your tattoo. A tattoo that he was helping you figure out. He didn’t like the idea of someone kissing it, of someone peeling off your pants and being delighted to see a little tattoo there, just for them.

It was selfish of him, and he knew it wasn’t right. The two of you had both been single for a while and he had gotten so used to having you around, he was getting jealous at the thought of someone taking you away from him.

“You’re out of it,” you giggled, after a moment too long in silence.

Harry broke himself out of his daze. “’m not drunk,” he muttered into his glass, although he was. And the alcohol was clouding his mind, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “Hip is a really good idea.”

Mentally wincing at how eager he sounded, he watched as you nodded, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Think it’ll hurt a lot?”

He chuckled to himself. “It’s a tattoo darling, course it’ll hurt a bit. I can come wit’ you if you want, hold your hand and all.”

Smile broke out on your face, teeth no longer gnawing on your lip. “That’d be nice,” humming as you placed your drink on the table in front of you. “Did yours hurt a lot?”

“Couple of them were a bit more painful, yeah.” He nodded, honestly not really remembering. “Get used to it after a while. One’s on my chest were probably the worst.”

“I like your butterfly,” you moved a foot out, nudging his thigh with it. “I would be too scared to get something that big though.”

“You’ll see,” he laughed. “Once you get one you won’t be able to stop.” He mindlessly trailed his hand over his shirt, where his tattoo rested.

“Don’t know about that. I don’t know if I would want a too many,” you hummed into your cup. “I do like all of yours though.”

“Yeah?” He sat up straighter. “Which ones your favourite?”

You sit up straighter as well, shuffling towards him a bit on the couch. “Can’t choose just one.” He tried not to jolt when your fingertips met his forearm, gently trailing up and following the lines of his tattoos. “What about you?”

He was silent for another moment too long, watching your fingers move up his arm. Finally glancing up at you, meeting your eyes with a lazy smile. “Don’t know either.”

“You’re completely pissed,” you laughed at his slow response, his hand moved without thinking, and pinched your cheek.

“Maybe,” his mouth and hands were working without his mind. “Skin is burning hot darling.” Hand smoothing around your face, he moved away for a second to place his drink next to yours on the table before tapping your forehead with a cool fingertip.

“’s cold,” you laughed, eyes shutting in a slow blink. “I heard,” you paused for another moment, as Harry brought his hand away from your face. “Heard tattoos feel like a bunch of little scratches.”

“Something like that,” he hummed, not being able to recall any tattoos he’s ever gotten in this moment.

“It’s like,” he moved his hand to your waist, lightly pushing under your sweatshirt. If he weren’t so close to you, he would’ve missed the little gasp that left your lips. “Like this.”

His nails weren’t nearly long enough to properly scratch at your skin, but he slowly dragged them along your ribs. “But faster, and it’s a needle.”

“Doesn’t really sound like the same thing,” your laugh sounded nervous, nearly breathless.

“Not really no,” he laughed lightly. Shuffling even closer to you, leg pressing against your knee. The smell of your shampoo overwhelmed him, he had always loved it and in his intoxication, it was the most potent smell ever.

“What are you doing,” your voice dropped down to a whisper. Where his hand had earlier been on your cheek, he pressed a little kiss.

“I’m just,” Harry didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to feel your skin under his lips, he just wanted to be close to you. “Helping ya’ out with tattoo ideas.”

He pressed another series of kisses to your cheek, eliciting a sigh from your lips. You didn’t push him away, and his hand that had been scratching at your waist gripped onto your skin.

“’s just me,” he babbled. “Skin’s so warm, can’t help –” he breathed in deeply, hand on your waist moving to your knee. He gently pushed your leg aside as he settled himself in closer to you. His lips were by your jaw, and he wanted so badly to feel your own mouth under his. “– can’t help m’self.”

You didn’t move under him, except for a single hand coming up to grip the neckline of his shirt. “Le’ me,” he pleaded, voice low. “Please, let me.”

You tilted your head up a bit towards him, lips ever so lightly parted. “Go ahead.”

He took that as all the invitation he needed, mouth sliding from your chin to cover yours. He sighed into your mouth, knee coming up to the couch as he repositioned himself.

He kissed you deep, tasting you for the first time and not able to get enough of it. Your hand on his shirt slid around his neck, gripping tightly onto his skin as you pulled him closer. His hand gripped your leg, thumb rubbing small circles through the loose materials of your sweats.

“’s good, you’re so –” Harry couldn’t form one coherent sentence. He wanted to feel you everywhere, he wanted to cross this uncharted territory and feel your skin on his. A part of him, a tiny part of him in the back of his head was telling him this wasn’t right but he was pissed and he wanted you. Badly.

“Harry,” your voice was a dream. He had moved his mouth down your jaw again, this time biting and licking as he moved down your neck.

“Jus’ wanna kiss – want a taste.”

He lifted himself from you for a moment, helping you reposition yourself so that you could lay on your back, Harry hovering nearly awkwardly over you but he didn’t care. It was a flurry of lips on skin and quick moving hands. He pushed a hand under your sweatshirt, delighted in finding you not wearing a bra, while you shared lime flavoured kisses.

You were pushing your hips against his, rubbing against him in a way that made his breath catch in the back of his throat. He was hard and heavy in his sweatpants, drunk enough that he if he kept grinding against your hip in the way he was now, he wouldn’t last very long.

“Fuck,” you whimpered from under him, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple under your sweatshirt while his mouth met yours again.

He snaked his hand down your tummy, only hesitating when he met the band of your sweatpants. “Want to,” he panted, “wanna feel you.”

“Yes.” The single word was a moan from your lips, as his hand pushed past your pants. Fingers snaking under your underwear, he nearly choked when he pushed through your folds.

“Fuck me,” he never wanted to leave you. “You always get this wet?”

You only whimpered from under him again, head pushing into the cushion of the couch as he circled your clit. He focused on the way you whined and pleaded under him; the way you jolted when he pushed a finger inside of you, and then two.

You were warm, he couldn’t get over how hot your skin was all over and how much it made him melt. His lips were gliding all over your skin, sucking sweetly on your neck and moving roughly over your mouth. Catching your moans into his open mouth as if he could keep them forever.

“I – Harry please don’t stop,” you were squirming underneath of him. Arching yourself off the couch, pushing yourself against him.

Rush through his body at how desperate you sounded, at the way his name was moaned from your lips. “Cum fo’ me darling,” he curled his fingers inside of you, pushing every spot that made you gasp.

He worked you over the edge, eyes narrowing on every move you made. And when you clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping together and back rising from the bed, he wished he could stay in this moment forever.

After a moment you peaked your eyes open, lazy smile on your lips as he pulled you in for a deep kiss. Wet fingers slipping out from under your sweats, gripping your skin.

“So gorgeous, you – fuck –” he bucked into your hand as he felt you palm over his bulge. Your lips pressed into this straining neck, your turn to lick and bite at his skin while you grabbed at his cock over his pants.

“That’s it,” he praises, hips bucking against your hand. Your fingers trickled under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him blindly. Your other hand was patting his shoulder, nudging him with a muffled voice. “Harry, move up a bit.”

He scrambled up to his knees, pulling you up with him until he sat with his back against the couch with you on his lap. You were pushing up his shirt, kissing at his neck while your hand gently jerked him off.

“Jesus you’re –” he fell into your touch, leaning against you. The whine that left his throat as your hand left his cock came from deep in his chest. Watching closely as you spat into your hand before shifting over him again.

He couldn’t help the way he gripped your thighs as you worked your hand over him, until he was bucking his hips into your hand. A whining mess, begging you over and over again to keep going, to not stop and to never leave him.

“You are – fuck,” he held you tight as he dropped is head in the crook of your neck, breathing uneven as he came on your hand. After a moment he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, helping you off the couch with wobbly legs to get the both of you cleaned up.

November 20th

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. The way you whined and whimpered under him for the first time, the way he found himself intoxicated (and not just by the alcohol).

Shy smiles were shared as he offered you stay the night, too late and both still too intoxicated to drive. You had decided you were too hot in your sweatshirt and grabbed one of his shirts instead. He pulled you in close under his sheets, kissing over your exposed skin and wanting to melt in the warmth coming off your body.

And apparently, you had completely forgotten about your sweatshirt.

The next morning neither of you said anything. Nothing of the sorts was even brought up again until a week later when you guys were out for a drink and he suddenly ached to have you under him. He had kissed you outside the bar, pulling you home with him until you were sat on his thigh grinding and moaning against him.

It had continued that way for a couple more weeks, neither of you really making any mention of it except for slipping hands under clothing and stealing kisses after a couple drinks.

That was, until you had sex for the first time. He was barely drunk, only needing one drink as an excuse to call you. Bugging you nonstop from outside the bar, wanting you to be there with him. He had managed to get you to drive over and pick him up, in your sweats and his shirt because you had been just about to go to bed.

You had walked him into his place, making sure he drank two glasses of water before he pulled you into bed with him, saying that since you were already ready for bed you may as well just stay the night there with him.

Cuddling into you, he couldn’t help kissing his way down until soon he had you on your back with his head between your thighs. Telling you over and over again that it was a ‘thank you’ for coming to pick him up.

But it wasn’t enough for him to grind against the mattress, while he pulled an orgasm out of you. He was greedy, he wanted another one, he wanted to feel you everywhere.

He eased you up to your knees, bending you over on the mattress with your ass in the air while he fumbled with the condom. It was everything he could’ve dreamt of and more, so much more. He couldn’t get enough, and didn’t think he ever would. Holding your close against him, chest pressed to your back as he praised you endlessly. You were just as warm around him as you were his fingers, and he had to grip you so tight to make sure it was real.

Both ending the night passed out side by side, he knew the next morning he needed to say something.

September 19th

“Bit sore,” you laughed, following him around the corner from the washroom. He was getting some breakfast ready, and the sight of you standing in his shirt and nothing else made him want to take you over the counter again.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, mind worrying over what to say next. “I – last night was fun, yeah?”

Leaning against the counter next to him, grabbing a handful of grapes from the bowl in front of you. “It was,” you voice was quiet, nearly timid.

“I –,” he paused again, unable to form the sentences he wanted to. ‘I like fooling around with you’ or ‘I like fucking you’ didn’t sound nice rolling off the tongue. “I like doing… what we’re doing. And I want to keep doing what we’re doing. If you do too.” He bit his lips together, mentally cringing at how awkward he sounded.

“I do too,” you said, averting your eyes from his as you nodded. “Both single, and it’s been a while, and…” Harry was relieved to see you also didn’t seem to know how to voice your feelings. “We’re friends.”

He nodded slowly, watching your every move. “Then, we’re doing this? Don’t need to wait for an excuse to have you come over anymore?”

Laughing lightly, you finally met his eyes. “Yeah,” you voice was airy. “But if either of us meet someone or need to end it, we do. Right?”

“Right,” he nodded, almost too eagerly and the new agreement. “What do you want for breakfast?”

November 23rd

Apparently, he couldn’t escape you outside of his house either. Deciding that wallowing by himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he thought that maybe a run would help clear his mind. It worked, for a good ten minutes before he stopped dead in his tracks.

Blocks away from his place he saw a red car parked. The same make and model of your red car.

Was it you? Could it be you? What are you doing so close to his house? He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since the fight that made you leave in such a rush that you left your shampoo bottles in his shower.

Tentatively walking towards the parked car, not seeing the pendant that you kept hanging off the review mirror. He decided it was too risky, that if it was your car, he wasn’t ready to see you, especially if he was snooping around your car.

But the car was still there the next day. Deciding fuck it, and walked towards it, hoping he didn’t look suspicious for whatever reason. As he got closer, he saw for a fact that there was no pendant hanging from the review mirror, and that those dents by the door were not there.

It wasn’t you.

He didn’t know if he was upset or relieved. He almost missed those dents on the door, always telling you to get it fixed. Stubborn as always, constantly telling him that “I don’t need to get it fixed if it doesn’t affect how it drives.”

That car was the last thing he saw before you left his house the last time he saw you.

November 5th

“What are you feeling for dinner?”

You hummed, opening up his fridge to stare at the contents. “We can make…” you were mumbling to yourself, examining the contents. “Do you have rice? We can make a stir fry,” you squinted in the fridge.

“Sounds good,” reaching through his cupboards for a pan, as you grabbed a cutting board and a knife, always preferring to chop the vegetables. “How’s your week?”

“Fine,” mumbling from where you stood across from him in the kitchen. “Work was the same, not to stressful right now which is nice. I, uh –”

He looked up at the hesitation in your voice. “I had a date.”

He nearly let go of the pot in his hand. He felt his stomach dropping, happy to be occupied with turning on the stove as he didn’t have to face you. “Yeah?” trying to keep his face calm before turning around to you again. “With who?”

“A guy from work,” you were averting your eyes, twisting the ring around your middle finger. You were nervous, he realized.

“How’d it go?”

“Okay,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands as they worked chopping the onion on the board in front of you. “We um –”

Finally you looked up at him. “We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Didn’t do it for you?” He tried to joke, but based off your expression he realized that really wasn’t what he should’ve said.

“Just thought you should know,” you looked away from him again, voice quiet. “Since y’know, we’re…”

Condoms had been long forgotten between the two of you. It was a silent agreement, that one should tell the other if they were going to be having sex with someone else. But for some reason, Harry had never imagined that conversation happening.

“Are you,” he tried to not let his voice shake. “Are you telling me you want to sleep with him?”

“No,” you shrugged slightly, pushing the onion around with the knife. “Don’t think that’ll happen. Just thought you should know.”

He willed himself to seem unbothered. “Okay.”

Back towards you again, pouring some oil into the pan on the burner. He could feel you watching him. Spinning back around, he saw you with your lips pressed to a thin line.

“What if I did want to sleep with him though?”

“You said you didn’t.” He desperately needed to change the subject.

“But what if?” For the first time, he realized he couldn’t read what you were thinking.

“Are you saying you want to end this?” Avoiding the question once again, he hated himself for the way he did it.

You blinked quickly, as if physically affected by his words. “I mean no, but,” you paused, and he panicked over what the end of that sentence would be. “What we’re doing its not – I mean what are we doing?”

He hated the tone of your voice, he hated how anxious you sounded. But instead of wrapping you into his arms like he wanted – and should have – he tried to swallow back any feelings he thought he might have for you. “We – we’re both taking advantage of the situation, no? Both being single and all.”

Your eyes narrowed on him. “So that’s it then? Call me over when you’ve had a few drinks and your hand isn’t enough to get you off?”

Fuck. “Darling that’s not –”

“Don’t. I practically live here, Harry. It’s not just ‘taking advantage of the situation’.”

The oil popped on the pan behind him, burner getting too hot. Swearing under his breath, turning back around to shove the pan off the heat. “I have half my things here. Wasn’t like this when we were just friends.”

Facing you again, he breathed out a sigh trying to calm himself down. “You didn’t have to bring your things over.”

You snapped your head up at his words. “That’s a low fucking blow.”

Suddenly you were moving away from him, away from the kitchen. He swore to himself again, hating himself for the way he handled the conversation. He hated himself for the way he avoided where the conversation seemed to be heading, to having him admit he wanted more from your relationship.

Calling your name behind you, watching with wide eyes as you grabbed your bag form the table, throwing it over your shoulder. “What are you…?”

“’m leaving.” Muttering as you brushed past him, heading towards the door.

Fuck. “Wait no,” he reached for your shoulder, hating the way you shrugged him off although you still spun around to him. “I – I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” he needed to say something, anything to get you to stay. “What are you saying?”

You sighed, dipping down to tug on your shoes. “I don’t know what I’m saying Harry. Maybe,” you sighed, gazing up at him. You looked tired, and sad. He hated it. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should stop.”

All his blood left his body. No. “You want to stop?” This time he wasn’t able to hide the shake in his voice.

“I gotta go Harry.” You turned away from him, reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait,” he repeated your name over and over. “Don’t leave please –”

You refused to look at him, spinning away from him. He continued calling after you, pleading you to come back but soon you were backing out of his driveway and turning around the corner.

November 24th

In hindsight, he realized he should’ve just told you he wanted you all to himself. He didn’t handle it well; he knew that then and he knows it now.

What he didn’t know at the time, what he refused to let himself think was that he wanted more with you and probably always had.

Recalling the first-time boundaries were crossed when he kissed you; the jealousy he felt when he thought about someone else being able to see the tattoo on your hip.

He remembered when you had gotten that tattoo, the skin still sensitive and wrapped in protective plastic. He still kissed at it, pulling small whimpers from the back of your throat.

He supposes that boundaries were disappearing when you started bringing over and leaving your things at his place, including those goddamn shampoo bottles. You were right to question him over the nature of your relationship, but he was too stupid and stubborn in the moment that he chose to push you away instead of admitting his feelings.

Fiddling with his phone in his hand, opening and closing your contact in his texts. He had drafted countless unsent messages, but had ultimately left you in radio silence.

And how fucked was that?

He didn’t care if it had been three weeks, or two weeks and five days to be exact. He pressed his phone to his ear, holding his breath as the phone on the other end rang.

After the second ringer, he was sure you wouldn’t pick up. He was about to end the call altogether, not having the heart to face your voicemail when a quiet “hello” spoke through the line.

“Hi,” he couldn’t breath. “It’s me – it’s Harry.”

“I know,” your voice sent a jolt through his chest.

“Didn’t think you would pick up.” He laughed humourlessly, realizing in all the fake conversations he had with you in his head he never really was prepared.

“I can hang up if you wan –”

“No,” he spoke quickly. “Sorry I just…” I love you. “I just want to talk to you, need to talk to you.”

You remained silent on the other end. “Can we meet? I can come over are we can get coffee or anything, up to you, I just need to see you.”

You were silent again, and he needed to check his phone to make sure the call was still ongoing. “I can be at yours in 15.”

His heart flipped. “Yes, that’s perfect. I – yes, see you soon.”

It was probably the longest fifteen minutes of his life. He spent it pacing around his place, trying to tidy up but ultimately not getting anything done. By the ten minute mark he was sure you weren’t coming, but right on time you were pulling that beat up red car into his driveway.

The sight of you was making him flush. Seeing you in his space, in his company like nothing had ever changed.

“How are you?” He could hear the nerves in his own voice.

“Fine,” the word was muttered, as you tentatively sat down on his couch. The very spot he had first kissed you, he realized.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, Harry, I’m not here to chit chat.”

He nodded, knowing you were right and sat far across from you on the couch, watching as you hugged your knees to your chest.

“I know, I –” he looked down at his hands, fiddling with his rings. “I miss you. And I’m really sorry for everything, for the way I handled everything.”

You looked up at him at his words, fidgeting with your sleeves. “I miss you too.”

“I really… I really fucked up and losing you was the last thing I wanted.” He needed to look away from you. “You were right, about us. We shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have let things get to be the way they did.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was small, calculated.

“I mean… I was being selfish. I – fuck I wanted more and I was being selfish with you.”

He tried to gage your reaction, but just like last time he wasn’t able to read your expression. “When you asked me what we were doing, when you said all that I panicked. Thought you might try and end things, I was too in my ass about my feelings I just… fucked up.”

“You wanted more?”

“I did – I do.”

You were quiet, too quiet. After a moment in silence, you suddenly stood. “I have to go to the washroom.”

He could only nod, standing as well as he watched you disappear behind the door. Grabbing himself a glass of water, having no idea what you were thinking in this moment. He was wrong before, when he thought that those fifteen minutes were the longest of his life. This moment right now seemed to last so much longer.

You finally reappeared a couple minutes later, joining him in the kitchen but still standing at a distance. He had no idea what to say, he wished for you to say something, anything.

“You kept all my things.”

“What?”

You pointed to the bathroom behind you. “All my things, my toothbrush my shampoo… figured you’d throw them out.”

He smiled a weak smile. “Would never. Can’t bring myself to. Plus, you know I love the smell of your shampoo.”

“I’m sorry I left that day.” You were fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt again.

“Don’t be, I was a dick. I didn’t know … I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings. Couldn’t get my shit together. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

As you nodded, he was relieved to see your expression start softening a bit.

“I need you in my life, in any capacity. If you need time I get it, but I just can’t… I need to know you’ll be in my life.”

You were worrying your lip, slowly nodding as you took in his words. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that day. I was trying to… it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Stop apologizing darling,” he liked the way the pet name rolled off his tongue again. The two of you stood in silence for a moment again.

“I wanted more too.” Nearly giving himself whiplash for how quickly he snapped his head towards you at your words. You weren’t looking at him, eyes dropped down to where your hands tapped nervously against the counter.

“I – you did?”

You only nodded, watching as you twirled your ring around your finger.

“Never said anything…”

Glancing up at him finally, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well…neither did you. Plus, I thought I was, I don’t know, making it obvious. Spending nearly every night here and all… I was sort of trying to bring it up that day we fought.”

“Truly fucked that up, didn’t I?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead, pushing his hair up. You only hummed, and his heart nearly soared when you saw the corner of your lips twitch in a smile.

He couldn’t help the smile starting to build on his lips either, trying to swallow down his anxiety before asking you what he wanted to. “Do you still?”

“Do I still what?” You were really making him say it.

“Do you still… want more. With me.” He watched you intently, watched your eyes flick away from his; to your hands to the counter and around the room, before meeting his own again.

“Well… came over, didn’t I?”

Heat rushed through his body as he processed your words. “Is that a yes?” His words were a rush of a breath. He found himself walking across the kitchen towards you until he was standing in front of you, keeping a gap but still being the closest he’d been to you all night.

“Yes.” Every nerve in his body urged to jump forward towards you at your whispered word, but he held himself back.

“Good,” his voice matched yours: quiet, breathless.

He wanted to pull you in his arms, to push you against the counter leaving no room between the two of you but he also didn’t want to assume you’d jump right into it; maybe you’d want a bit of time, maybe you were still mad –

Any second thought flew out of his mind when the light touch of your fingertips met his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His own hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, other hand sliding to your cheek, fitting with you like nothing ever changed.

Mouth quickly met his, and it was like kissing you for the first time all over again. You were still just as warm against him, still smelt like the shampoo that you left in his shower.

Your lips were light against his at first, a ghost of a touch as you pressed yourself against him and bunched the collar of his shirt in a fist. His hand on your cheek moved to tilt your head up to him slightly, as he held you tight against him not wanting you to ever leave.

A small sigh left your lips as he took a step forward, pushing lightly back to trap you between the counter and himself. Kiss quickly deepening as you let him taste deeper into your mouth, wandering hands pushing up under your shirt.

You were tugging at his hair as he pulled small whines from the back of your throat, gripping your thigh tightly as he helped you sit up on the counter. Mouth leaving yours with a pant, he reveled in the way you hooked your legs around him to keep him against you.

“Missed you,” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “So,” lips moved down your jaw. “Fucking much.”

He loved the sigh you made at his words; he loved every sound you made. Resting his forehead on yours for a moment, lips barely brushing. “You’re so warm darling. Missed kissing you, missed being with you.”

“Me too,” you whispered, pecking a small kiss to his mouth.

“I get to be with you, right?”

“Yes,” his heart soared at the single word. He was enamoured with the smile that took over your face. “Might still be a bit mad a you though.”

His smile matched yours, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Sounds like I have some making up to do.”

#ah there was a mistake i reposted it okay !#hi yes #this is just my lil something hope u enjoy #its short and kinda dif writing #pls let me know what u think and share ! thank u love u #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

allavengedromance · 4 years ago

Audio

A compilation of interactions between Jon and Helen from beginning to end because they had the best dynamic

Transcript under the cut

[MAG 47]

[CLICK] [SOUND OF PEN SCRATCHING AGAINST PAPER IN SHARP, FRUSTRATED MOVEMENTS]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Helen Richardson, regarding, uh… how would you describe it?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

ARCHIVIST

…Miss Richardson?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

HELEN

– uh, what?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

ARCHIVIST

Your experience, how would you summarize it?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

HELEN

Um, well, I’ve been, I’ve been trying to draw you a map, but, it doesn’t, it doesn’t work.

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES; HELEN CAN NOW BE HEARD BREATHING HARD AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS]

ARCHIVIST

– Right. Statement of Helen Richardson, regarding a new door in the house she was selling. Statement recorded direct from subject, 2nd October, 2016. Statement begins.

[MAG 101]

HELEN

Do you want to come in?

ARCHIVIST

Wh… Helen? H-Helen Richardson? But… But y– Michael…

HELEN

Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST

What happened?

HELEN

He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.

Lost my way.

ARCHIVIST

And now? Y-__you’re__ Helen?

[MAG 115]

[KNOCK, KNOCK]

[Calls] Come i–

[KNOCK, KNOCK]

[More sombrely] Come in.

[A NEW DOOR CREAKS OPEN]

[Sharply] What do you want?

HELEN

Not sure. To talk.

ARCHIVIST

You’re keeping her face, then.

HELEN

I am Helen.

ARCHIVIST

Don’t pretend to be people I know. Knew.

HELEN

I’m not pretending.

ARCHIVIST

You’re not Helen Richardson.

[MAG 115]

HELEN

Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.

ARCHIVIST

You’re not that Helen!

HELEN

I just want… I just want to feel better.

ARCHIVIST

…

I don’t believe you.

HELEN

You don’t?

ARCHIVIST

Wh-what? Why should I believe… a-a-any of this? You’ve told me over and over that you’re… what was the phrase? The ‘throat of delusion’? All of this is –

HELEN

I have never told you a lie, Archivist. I wouldn’t dare. I, I just thought you might understand.

ARCHIVIST

Uh… How could I possibly…

HELEN

We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together –

ARCHIVIST

[Furious] Get out.

[MAG 131]

[MELANIE SIGHS, KNOCKS ON THE DOOR] MELANIE

She’s been helping us.

ARCHIVIST

[Sharply] It has never helped anyone. Not without a cost.

[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN] HELEN

If I am an “it”, Archivist, then what does that make you?

[THE DOOR CREAKS CLOSED] MELANIE

Hi, Helen.

ARCHIVIST

[Coldly] I have been told you can help.

HELEN

I have been trying to. But the last time you were very rude to me.

ARCHIVIST

You’re still wearing her face.

HELEN

Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute.

[MAG 143]

ARCHIVIST

Why are you here?

HELEN

I told you! I’ve decided to help. I thought you might like a way home?

ARCHIVIST

Another door?

HELEN

If you want it. (short pause) How was it?

ARCHIVIST

Hm?

HELEN

Looking upon the Dark.

ARCHIVIST

I thought I was going to die.

HELEN

You seem to think that a lot.

[MAG 152]

HELEN

(“delicately” hinting) Although – some of us are always lost, in a sense.

ARCHIVIST

Wait, are you saying you can navigate it?

HELEN

Not exactly, but my door has been part of these tunnels for some time now.

ARCHIVIST

Wh – (frustrated sputtering) – what’s it hiding, wh-what’s in the middle?

HELEN

(suppressed laughter) A delightful surprise…!

[HE SIGHS. SHE LAUGHS, OVERLAPPING HIM AND HERSELF, SEEMINGLY OUT OF SEVERAL THROATS AT ONCE, AND WITH A DRAINED, SLEEPY QUALITY TO IT WHEN SHE FINDS THAT SHE HAS LAUGHED TOO LONG, AND MUST STOP TO INHALE. HER LAUGHTER, IN SHORT, NOW SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE MICHAEL’S. THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS AGAIN, RESIGNED TO HER.]

[MAG 152]

HELEN

Hungry, are we?

ARCHIVIST

(angrily) That’s not –

– I haven’t done anything –

HELEN

– yet.

ARCHIVIST

(roughly) I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.

HELEN

…

Do you… Know that?

ARCHIVIST

No. But I… (frustrated noise) I can’t die. They need me.

HELEN

Come on, John, no excuses.

[HE SIGHS AS SHE SPEAKS.]

They don’t need your protection.

[MAG 152]

HELEN

Helen was like you, at first.

[HE CAN BE HEARD INHALING UNHAPPILY IN THE BACKGROUND.]

She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

ARCHIVIST

Fine. I get it.

[MAG 157]

[CLICK] [HEAVY KNOCKING ON A DOOR. IT SWINGS OPEN.] ARCHIVIST

Helen.

HELEN

Jonathan.

ARCHIVIST

I need – you said before you knew the tunnels, right? That you’d been a… part of them?

HELEN

Not my exact words, but close enough.

ARCHIVIST

I need to know what’s in there. What’s at the center? (urgently) I-it’s important, Martin – I need to know.

HELEN

(cheerfully) That’s a shame, because I’m afraid I’m not going to tell you!

ARCHIVIST

(aghast) What? Why not?

HELEN

Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much more fun without my involvement! (begins laughing)

ARCHIVIST

What? You – you said you were going to help!

HELEN

I am.

ARCHIVIST

I don’t have time for this.

[164]

HELEN

Remember? And please – my name is Helen.

ARCHIVIST

Like you said, I can know everything now, including how much of a lie that really is.

HELEN

Don’t mistake complication for falsehood, dear Archivist. And remember, that knowledge is not the same thing as understanding!

ARCHIVIST

What do you want.

HELEN

To say hello! And check up on the happy couple.

[She laughs again.]

[166]

ARCHIVIST

Hello, Helen.

HELEN

Oh, hello! In a better mood, are we?

(lower, teasing) Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill?

[As she speaks, a shimmery, high-pitched sound starts to layer over the background.] ARCHIVIST

(inhale) Something like that.

MARTIN

Will you tell me how he did it?

ARCHIVIST

Martin…

MARTIN

He just keeps going all vague about it.

HELEN

Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, John? He’s coming to me for clear answers.

[She snorts, and it turns into her trademark laugh.]

ARCHIVIST

Shut up.

[177]

HELEN

Oh, John? Not to sound like a squeaky hinge, but do try to lighten up. Don’t get me wrong, the brooding thing’s a good look on you, but it is starting to get a bit tired. Especially now you’ve got someone else to do the intense, driven thing. I think you might need to get a new schtick.

ARCHIVIST

[Sarcastic] Thank you for the feedback. I’ll try to bear it in mind.

[183]

ARCHIVIST

What we want doesn’t matter much these days.

[HELEN MAKES A RASPBERRY NOISE]

HELEN

Oh nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days. And Basira wanted to join Daisy.

ARCHIVIST

She made her choice.

HELEN

With your assistance.

ARCHIVIST

It was still her choice.

HELEN

[Sighing] What a waste.

ARCHIVIST

No.

It wasn’t.

[MAG 187]

HELEN

You really don’t like me, do you?

ARCHIVIST

No.

HELEN

And you never have.

ARCHIVIST

Not really.

HELEN

Even though I saved you from Michael.

ARCHIVIST

You were Michael.

HELEN

Argh. I’m The Distortion, as was Michael, but I am not him, and never have been. Surely you know all this by now, what with your shiny new eye powers?

ARCHIVIST

It’s not about what I know. It’s about what I feel.

HELEN

[Disparagingly] Oh, what do you feel?

ARCHIVIST

I liked Helen.

HELEN

I am Helen.

ARCHIVIST

The real one.

HELEN

…

Helen-Classic.

ARCHIVIST

Sure.

HELEN

But that doesn’t make any sense. You barely met her. You had half an hour together, and she spent most of that ranting about mazes! She was positively delirious with paranoia!

ARCHIVIST

True. But as you’ll recall, I was pretty paranoid myself at that point.

[MAG 187]

ARCHIVIST

I got you rattled.

HELEN

I’m not scared of you.

ARCHIVIST

Helen… Was that… a lie?

HELEN

[Too quickly] No!

ARCHIVIST

A lie. A genuine untruth. Like a little bit of loose thread, flitting in the breeze.

HELEN

Fine. You can go.

[SHIFTING, AND A NEW DOOR OPENS]

There’s the door. Just go!

ARCHIVIST

Ceaseless Watcher!

HELEN

No!

[THROUGH THE INCANTATION, THE HARSH BUZZ OF STATIC MINGLES WITH CREAKING WOODWORK AND CRUMBLING CRICK]

ARCHIVIST

See this lie, this golden strand of falsehood. Take it in your gaze and pull it, follow through its curves and twists and knots as it unravels all before you.

HELEN (BACKGROUND)

No. No! No! No, Archivist! Stop! John, it’s me, it’s Helen. It’s me. I’ve always been your friend. Don’t do this to me. I have always helped you. I have always helped you and lent you doors. Think of all that I have done for you. If you do this, everyone inside me is dead!

ARCHIVIST

Unweave it now, its fear and its falsehood, its hidden teeth and the ones it wears so proudly.

HELEN (BACKGROUND)

You’re no different – You are no different from me! You can’t save anyone!

ARCHIVIST

Take all that it is and all that it has. It is yours!

HELEN

No! NOOOOOO!

[HELEN’S VOICE IS STRETCHED AND VANISHED] [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF DISTORTED DEMOLITION]

[MAG 47]

HELEN

Finally, [suppressing tears] after the latest bout of nightmares, I decided to come to you and tell you my story. Maybe you can make some sense of this.

ARCHIVIST

…Perhaps. Leave it with us. We’ll… do some digging and see what we can find.

HELEN

[tearful] You believe me, then?

ARCHIVIST

I… yes. Yes, I think I do.

#tma #tma spoilers #helen richardson #helen distortion #tma audio #might do one for martin and helen in a bit #s5 spoilers #mag47 #mag187 #mag101 #mag115 #mag131 #mag142 #mag152 #mag157 #mag164 #mag166 #mag177 #mag183

87 notes · View notes

theblogtini · 4 years ago

Text

You know what annoys me the MOST about The Sussexes? The tonedeafness of it all. That was the very first thing that started turning my opinion of them - the October 2019 pity party interview.

Here’s how the last year+ of my life has gone:

September 2019 - found out I was pregnant w/ my 2nd child

October 2019 - my grandfather died

December - had COVID before it was even a known thing & have never been sicker in my life (my doctors strongly suspect it was COVID, but we can’t be 100% positive but when we had to take my 2 year old to the ER bc he was so sick they said it was “a weird new virus we’ve never seen before”)

January 2020 - it was determined I would need to have semi-emergency surgery on my abdomen at 23 weeks pregnant bc was ill — 23 weeks is before “viability” so my baby wouldn’t be monitored during the surgery & they would not intervene to help him if needed — they would not let me push the surgery out 3 days bc I was too ill

February 2020 - surgery takes place. BABY WAS FINE thank god. Couldn’t be left alone with my 2 year old or drive anywhere for 4 weeks - considered severely immune compromised due to pregnancy + surgery

March - lockdown happens. My son cuts his eyelid open and has to go get stitches and since we were on lockdown and I was pregnant the hospital wouldn’t let me be there with him (a mother’s nightmare)

April - admitted to the hospital at 35 weeks pregnant. Baby and I are both ill. Baby diagnosed with IUGR - he had stopped growing inside me 4 weeks earlier

May 6, 2020 - baby born preterm via emergency csection at 2:30am bc I started going downhill. I was unable to hold him for 10 hours as I was too ill and they were afraid I would crash and drop him. I was hooked to an IV for 2 days & basically sedated. My baby was being monitored by the NICU team (in my room bc of the pandemic) due to breathing, blood sugar, liver, and body temp issues. He was well enough to be discharged 3 days after birth but I was not. Mind you still a pandemic and now I’ve had two surgeries in 4 months so I’m still considered severely immunocompromised. And my baby weighs 4lbs and has zero immune system and breathing problems - during a pandemic that attacks the respiratory system.

May 10 - discharged home with my baby during a pandemic. No one in my family met him for weeks and weeks. My sister and dad just held him for the first time last week (10 months!!) due to his health issues and the pandemic.

Summer - trapped in house w/ 2 kids & husband. It’s a pandemic so there’s no where to go and no one can come to us. I can’t drive anyway (due to csection)

My maternity leave ended in early summer - husband & I have been WFH with 2 kids (a toddler & newborn) and zero help bc again - pandemic.

Fall/Winter 2020 - still WFH with no help. Still trapped inside w/ 2 kids & husband. I can drive now but there’s no where to go & nothing to look forward to. Pandemic related job woes start kicking in for us, which isn’t good bc we have 2 kids & 1 is medical compromised AND ITS A PANDEMIC.

Holidays 2020 (Thanksgiving & Christmas) - no family to celebrate with. Still trapped in house.

January 2021 - older sons 3 birthday, no party bc pandemic

February 2021 - still a pandemic. Job woes getting more serious. Find out that baby is only in 16% for height - not growing on the “outside” as he should due to my illness when he was on the inside. I managed to get vaccinated bc of health issues - can finally leave the house except... no where to go.

March 2021 - still in the house. Still a pandemic. Still WFH with 2 crazy kids & no outside help. Job woes really getting serious - money becoming tight. Health insurance ends this month - in a pandemic. No alone time with husband or heck even for myself really.

But go ahead Meghan... bitch on national TV about how your son isn’t A LITERAL PRINCE ... yet. Because he WILL be just not today. At least he’s healthy. At least you are not actually trapped in your home. At least you have help while you and your very wealthy husband pretend to work while the rest of us struggle.

Am I having a pity party? You betcha! 99% of my posts lately have been with a kid on my lap or holding a baby late at night because we don’t have nannies and night nurses like some royals. I’m mom-ing, working, cleaning, cooking, and STRUGGLING while Meghan is whining.

And I STILL KNOW IM LUCKY! So why doesn’t she?

28 notes · View notes

joachimnapoleon · 4 years ago

Text

Meet the Bonapartes--Louis (2/4)

(Part 1 can be found here) (And here are links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 on Pauline)

***

Napoleon's plan to marry Louis to Hortense was met with a marked lack of enthusiasm by both parties. Aside from having acquired a jaded view of women (possibly as a result of the affliction he suffered in Italy), Louis also happened to be in love with someone else. Prior to the wedding, he would write a twenty-page letter to Hortense containing what was essentially his life story, and in which he confessed his love for a woman named Sophie, describing her, and his feelings for her, in great detail. Hortense, meanwhile, had acquired a negative view of Louis, because of his behavior in an earlier failed love affair between him and one of her cousins. However, Hortense claims, she was willing to give Louis the benefit of the doubt, and dismiss "his conduct toward my cousin" as "merely thoughtlessness on his part." Her former mentor, Madame Campan, visited Hortense to speak in Louis's favor. Hortense was not entirely convinced. "Louis seems to me to be kindhearted and good," she conceded to Mme Campan, "but I do not like the disdain with which he pretends to look upon women and which often appears in his conversation."

[Hortense de Beauharnais]

But Napoleon was adamant about the match, seeing in it a strengthening not only of the ties between the Bonaparte and Beauharnais families, but also as a safeguard for a potential Bonaparte dynasty. "We may never have children," Napoleon told Josephine (according to Hortense's memoirs). "I brought Louis up myself; I look on him as a son. Your daughter is what you cherish most on earth. Their children shall be our children. We will adopt them, and this adoption will console us for not having any of our own." But Josephine, who had initially favored the idea, grew increasingly ill at ease over the marriage as the wedding approached. Hortense also claims that Louis's older brother Lucien poisoned Louis's mind against her, after his own request to marry her was shot down by Napoleon. "I do not know what he said," Hortense writes, "but Louis became uneasy." It was then that Louis wrote his twenty-page letter to her and "begged me in return to describe my past life to him in full. It would have been difficult for me to give him any striking facts on the subject and, when I returned his letter, in accordance with his request, I merely replied that for a long time my life had been known to him."

"If your popularity and society have not spoiled you," Louis replied, "you must be an angel. There can be no middle ground. You must be all good or all bad." Hortense took this as a compliment. "I could not suppose that, admitting the existence of the two alternatives, his opinion could be otherwise than favorable."

The marriage contract was signed on 3 January 1802 at the Tuilleries. Napoleon provided Hortense with a dowry of 250,000 francs, to which Josephine added another 100,000. The civil service took place the next day, and the nuptial blessings were held afterwards. After Cardinal Caprara had blessed the newlyweds, Joachim and Caroline Murat came forward, and requested to receive a nuptial blessing as well, as their marriage had taken place before the religious ceremony was reinstated. "This double ceremony left a disagreeable impression on me," writes Hortense. "The other couple were so happy. They were so much in love with one another.... I felt as though all the happiness lay on one side, all the unhappiness on the other."

The "honeymoon" period was almost nonexistent. Napoleon had flown into a rage at Louis over complaints Louis had made about the marriage not being announced publicly. The personalities of Louis and Hortense never quite managed to synchronize on any level. Louis found fault with Hortense over the most trivial things, and Hortense could barely disguise her increasing dislike for her husband--or the fear his unstable, unpredictable behavior had begun to instill in her.

My nerves gave way. Only tears brought relief. My husband, touched and affected by the sight of my grief, sought to console me, but the harm had been done. My only sentiment towards Louis became one of fear. I dared no longer smile or speak in his presence. It always seemed to me he was on the point of losing his temper.

Nevertheless, the couple's first child--Napoleon Charles Bonaparte--was born the 2nd of October, 1802. Another son, Napoleon-Louis Bonaparte, followed two Octobers later. The Pope himself officiated the ostentatious baptismal ceremony at Saint Cloud.

[Napoleon Charles Bonaparte, first child of Louis & Hortense]

Napoleon continued to show favor to Louis; but Louis occasionally had a different view of these "favors" than his older brother. He saw Napoleon's appointment of him as governor of the "Department beyond the Alps," which would have required his relocation to Turin, as a form of exile, and refused to leave for this new station until after Napoleon's coronation as King of Italy. When the time came, he pleaded ill health and did not accompany Napoleon to Milan for the ceremony. Suffering from acute rheumatism, he had temporarily lost the use of his right hand. By this point he was something of a hypochondriac, and often imagined his illnesses to be far worse than they actually were. His doctors recommended mud baths in St. Amand. Napoleon, still clinging to the idea of making a soldier of Louis, gave his brother command of a reserve corps in the Army of England which would enable him to set up his headquarters close to St. Amand to take the suggested cure. He departed with Hortense and their two children. The mud baths seemed to improve his health.

During the 1805 campaign, Louis remained in Paris as Grand Constable. To everyone's surprise, after his initial reluctance to take over the role of military governor, he displayed remarkable energy. He was not yet aware that Napoleon was in the early stages of preparing him a throne. But rumors soon spread that the Prussians were planning to invade France via the Netherlands. Napoleon ordered Louis to form the Army of the North, to defend the northern departments, as well as Antwerp and the Batavian territories. Louis arrived in Antwerp the day before the battle of Austerlitz; in spite of the war coming to a rapid end, he received orders from Napoleon, via Marshal Berthier, to stay put in Holland. He was also instructed to make sure the Dutch covered "all the pay and supplies of the Army of the North; it must also buy and supply you with all the artillery and transport horses you may need... the Army of the North is not to cost the Emperor anything."

Despite Napoleon's orders, Louis handed over command of his new army and headed back to France upon learning of the peace of Pressburg. Napoleon was not pleased by the unexpected meeting with his brother in Strasbourg. The Emperor finally confided to Louis his intentions of forming a kingdom in Holland, but did not yet go so far as to say that he intended Louis to rule it.

But Napoleon could see only two viable options for Holland: it must either be annexed to the Empire directly, or preserve its independence by accepting an imperial prince--Louis--as its king. The Dutch government were reluctant to forfeit their republic, but recognized that resistance to Napoleon was futile. They assented to the rule of Louis, with the understanding that no French officials would be appointed except in the king's personal household (Louis would break this promise soon enough), that freedom of worship would be maintained, and the current system of Dutch law left in place. Once these points were arranged, Louis was informed by Napoleon that he was to be King of Holland. Louis himself had little choice in the matter.

Louis was initially reluctant to take the throne, but soon warmed to the perceived advantages of being out of his domineering brother's direct grasp. Hortense, meanwhile, dreaded the idea, as well as the visible change in Louis's demeanor.

I admit that my husband's calm manner surprised me. I did not believe he was ambitious, yet I recognized that he was well pleased with what had occurred. Until then every change had been a source of annoyance to him. But now he enjoyed the idea of becoming his own master and, what was more, becoming my master at the same time. No longer would any social decorum, any sense of obligation restrain him from exercising his rights over me. Freed from the proximity of his brother he had no longer any cause to fear him.... For a moment I had the idea of flinging myself at the Emperor's feet, revealing all the torments I suffered with my husband, and begging permission not to be obliged to follow him into a foreign country where nothing would restrain those traits in his character, which I knew so well and dreaded so intensely.

The official Dutch "offer" of the throne was presented as representing nine-tenths of the populace. The formal proclamation of Louis as King of Holland took place at the Tuileries on 5 June 1806. He was solemnly reminded by Napoleon that he was still a French prince. In his response, Louis spoke of his pride in having worked to defend the Dutch people from invasion the year before, the honor he felt in being called to rule over them. He assured Napoleon that his people--he was now referring to the Dutch--would feel love and gratitude towards the Emperor and France.

[Louis Bonaparte]

Louis and Hortense left Paris a week later. The Dutch gave them a joyous reception as they made their way through the country, every small town vying to outdo the other. Hortense held a dismal view of it all. "The martial escorts, the honors, receptions and speeches only wearied me." At one point, she remarked darkly to Louis that the receptions were similar to those the French had held to celebrate the arrival of Marie Antoinette.

Though he had been thrust into the role against his will and accepted it with some reluctance, Louis was determined to be a good king to his subjects, and take care of their interests--which would inevitably put him at odds with Napoleon, just as it would for Murat in Naples years later. "From the moment I set foot on Dutch soil," the newly-crowned Louis declared to his legislature, "I became Dutch." "Which explained in a sentence," writes biographer Andrew Roberts, "the problem Napoleon was to have with him over the next four years."

***

Sources:

Atteridge, A. Hillard. Napoleon’s Brothers, 1909.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Soldier of Destiny. 2014.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Spirit of the Age. 2018.

De Beauharnais, Hortense. Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol I.

Masson, Frédéric. Napoleon et sa Famille, Vol I (1796-1802), 1907.

Roberts, Andrews. Napoleon: A Life. 2014.

#Meet the Bonapartes #Louis Bonaparte #Hortense de Beauharnais #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #history #19th century #Napoleonic

27 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

call me friend, but keep me closer (jan/gigi) - Aries

summary - two’s company, three’s a crowd. as far as the saying goes, four’s a party. jan’s not sure this is entirely true.

a/n - thanks to mac for being a lovely beta, even if my initial lack of capital letters drove her up the wall xo also on ao3 here!

Sunday, September 25th

It’s two in the morning, and they’re all laying in Gigi’s living room watching Mean Girls, and everything is good. Jan’s phone vibrates and she flicks the ringer button to mute, barely pausing to check the screen. She’s fine.

‘Who’s that?’ Nicky asks, raising her head from the corner of the couch she claimed the second they got there - it’s the comfiest, she says, and she’s always perfectly willing to fight Jackie for it - and she looks at Jan, puzzled. Jan smiles, throws her phone onto a pillow on the other side of the room, and climbs onto the couch beside her, resting her head on Jackie’s legs.

‘Jake,’ she replies, and turns her head towards Nicky, sniffing the air. ‘Are you wearing new perfume? It’s cute.’

‘Aren’t you gonna answer him?’ Gigi yells from the other side of the room, painting her nails a bright pink. Jackie shoots her a look. They drop the subject, as they always do. He doesn’t come up in conversation much. Jan doesn’t mind, somehow.

Sunday, October 2nd

He breaks up with her over text, and Gigi holds her, strokes her hair, gets Nicky to bring her those cupcakes she likes from the little bakery down the street and ignores Jackie’s glare when she pulls a bottle of rosé from the kitchen cabinet as a way to make her feel better. Jan cries for hours, but her friends are there, and Gigi’s arms are warm, comforting, and everything that his never were.

(She’s not sure whether she’s genuinely upset or just wants to stay like this. She doesn’t want to be sure. The thought is scary.)

They end up drunk at four am, laughing mindlessly over whatever episode of The Office is playing in the background, and Jan doesn’t even catch herself thinking about him.

Maybe it’s bad, she thinks, that they’d been together for close to a year, but after a few hours she barely cares much anymore.

‘Do we have any cupcakes left?’ Jackie asks, poking her head around the door to the kitchen.

‘No,’ replies Nicky, shoving the still half-full box under Jan’s coffee table with her foot. ‘Sorry.’

‘There are twinkies in the cabinet, I think,’ Jan yells. ‘they’re Lagoona’s, though, so don’t hog them.’

‘Twinkies and wine?’ Gigi giggles, eyes bright. ‘That’s real class, Jan.’

Nicky looks at her and laughs, swatting her on the arm. ‘Smooth, Rizzo.’

Gigi glares at her and opens her mouth in mock horror, raising a hand to her face for dramatic effect. ‘That was Marty, not Rizzo,’ she gasps. ‘And you call yourself a theatre nerd?’

Jan looks away, stands up, and heads to help Jackie in the kitchen.

Sunday, October 15th

‘This fucking sucks,’ Jan sighs, flopping back onto her armchair dramatically. ‘Where are they?’

‘Jannifer, breathe,’ Jackie replies. She picks up her phone, sees no notifications, and rolls her eyes. ‘Calm down. They’re just late, that’s all.’

‘I am calm!’

‘You’re pacing, sweetheart.’ Jackie pats the space on the couch next to her and smiles as Jan heads over to join her, leaning her head on Jackie’s shoulder. ‘They’ll be here soon, they wouldn’t miss plans. God knows Nicky’s just bad at checking her phone, and Gigi’s at that family party til seven, right?’

As if on cue, Jan’s front door opens and Gigi and Nicky burst through, laughing loudly. They round the corner into the living room and smile at Jan and Jackie, blissfully ignorant to their annoyance.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Nicky grins, throwing a bag in Jan’s direction and frowning slightly when she makes no attempt to catch it, letting it flop onto the cushion next to her. ‘We were out, and we thought we’d stop and pick up some snacks before we came here. The store was busy as hell.’

‘You got out of your party early, then?’ Jackie asks, looking pointedly at Gigi. Gigi’s face scrunches up in confusion, and she glances sideways at Nicky, who nods subtly.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she smiles. ‘I did.’ She waves her hand as if to physically brush off the topic, and gestures to the bag next to Jan. ‘We got those chips you like, did you see?’

Jan sighs, defeated, and grabs the bag. She pretends not to notice the look of pity Jackie shoots her as she grabs the chips and thanks Gigi, her voice tinged with a sadness that’s hard to pinpoint.

Tuesday, October 17th

Jan’s phone vibrates on her bedside table. She ignores it. Two minutes later, it goes off again, and she gives in.

Jackie♡ - Do you want to go get ice cream or something tomorrow? (9:07pm)

I asked Gigi and Nicky, they both have plans. (9:09pm)

Jan rubs her eyes and throws her phone onto the floor, wincing as she hears what she swears is a crack on the screen. It vibrates again after some time, and she’s more relieved that it’s working than curious as to what the new message says.

Jackie♡ - We don’t have to, I just figured since we’re not seeing each other this weekend it’d be nice! Let me know <3 (9:24pm)

She checks the group chat, and sure enough, that Sunday’s movie night has been cancelled - Nicky’s seeing friends that are over from Paris, or something, and Gigi’s out with family. Again.

Jan - sure, i can do ice cream. 2-ish? (9:31pm)

Wednesday, October 18th

‘I think we should do this kind of stuff more often,’ Jackie smiles through a mouthful of mint ice cream. Jan laughs, confused.

‘What do you mean? We go out all the time.’

‘Me and you,’ Jackie clarifies, trying to make eye contact. Jan looks down, suddenly very interested in her sorbet. ‘Especially since the others are so busy recently.’

‘They’re not always busy,’ Jan replies. ‘They’ve only cancelled on us once.’

Sure, and how many family parties do you think they’ll try and bullshit before they catch on that we know?’

Jan clenches her fist, and the plastic spoon she’s holding snaps in half, cutting her finger with one of its edges. She winces, and Jackie grabs a handful of napkins, grabbing her hand and wrapping it up.

‘Shit,’ Jackie gasps, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah,’ Jan replies, gritting her teeth. ‘Great.’

Jackie walks her home in silence, and Jan fiddles with the hello kitty band-aid wrapped around her finger, her eyes darting around to the houses, and the street signs, and the sky, and everywhere that isn’t Jackie.

‘I’m sorry for bringing it up,’ Jackie says when they reach Jan’s house, and Jan smiles in response, hoping she doesn’t notice how fake it is.

‘That’s okay,’ she replies, unlocking her front door and stepping inside. ‘I know you’re right.’

Jan tries to wave her off and push the door closed, but Jackie sticks her hand in the way. ‘Are you ever gonna tell Gigi?’ she asks. Jan tries her best to keep her face blank.

‘Tell her what?’ she replies, pulling the door back and gesturing for Jackie to move her arm.

‘I think you know what,’ Jackie says, stepping back from the door. ‘I think you should, for your own sake.’

‘Goodnight, Jackie,’ Jan replies, already closing the door.

Sunday, October 30th

It’s two in the morning, and they’re all laying in Gigi’s living room, again, and Jan is begging every god she knows the name of to just please let her sleep . Jackie had to leave early, so it’s just the three of them left. Some bad Halloween movie or other is playing softly on the TV, but she doesn’t want to open her eyes to watch it, can’t risk letting them know she’s awake.

She hears Nicky whisper something, but it’s not loud enough for her to catch it. Gigi laughs in response, and Jan borderline despises the way her stomach twists at the sound, hates how she’s not the one that prompted it. She squeezes her eyes closed harder and wills herself to sleep, god, just sleep, let this be over, let her go home.

It’s silent except for the low, droning soundtrack of the movie, and then she hears shuffling, more laughter, and then a voice - Gigi’s, of course.

‘Stop it,’ she says through giggles, and Nicky snorts with laughter. ‘not with Jan here.’

‘She’s asleep, baby,’ Nicky replies. ‘it’s fine.’

As if I’d ever tell her, thinks Jan. She feels tears welling up in her eyes, and chastises herself for being so pathetic. As if there’d ever, ever, be a point.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #gigi goode #nicky doll #jackie cox #gigi x jan #gigi x nicky #jankie #angst #lesbian au #aries #submission #s12

46 notes · View notes

britesparc · 4 years ago

Text

Weekend Top Ten #445

Top Ten Films to See in Cinemas 2020

The cinemas are open! Hurray!

We remain in the grip of a deadly global pandemic and infection counts are rising! Boo!

I love going to the pictures. It’s one of the few things I genuinely want to leave the house for. I’m not sure why; there’s something magical about the whole experience. Traveling to a different building, purchasing tickets, seeing the adverts up in the foyer, walking down snaking corridors, the darkness, the spots of light, the flicker of the projector, the size of the screen, the feel of the sound as it reverberates around the auditorium, the sense of all of time and space slowing down to this one point, this singularity, as you are consumed in the film before you, the only thing you can see and hear, this one enormous moving image before your eyes. Every once in a while even a committed isolationist misanthrope such as myself can also be swept away by the sense of community, of shared experience. Like when the t-rex roared, when the White House was destroyed, when the Death Star exploded, when Cap lifted Mjolnir.

When Cap lifted Mjolnir.

Anyway, I’ve not been able to go to the cinema for months, obviously. And even when they did start opening I felt it was probably too early. But as time has gone on, I’m starting to hope it can be done safely: masks on, socially distanced auditorium, cashless purchasing… is it a daft risk to see a film when there are loads on Netflix? I don’t know. Part of me thinks so, but part of me thinks as long as cautions are maintained then it would be fine… and I definitely don’t want cinemas to go under; I want to try to support the industry and the people who work there.

And I just wanna see some films.

So I was hoping that by now I’d actually have gone to see Tenet. That’s the biggie, obviously; the first really huge film to hit the cinema since lockdown. Others have scarpered, whether to “premium VOD” (Trolls World Tour), straight to streaming (The Lovebirds), or some bastardised combination of the two (Mulan). And then there’s the ones who’ve shuffled down the calendar, from Spring to Summer to Autumn to Winter, attempting to outrun the virus like it’s the fire spewing through the tunnel in Independence Day. In fact, as I’m writing, it’s just been announced that Wonder Woman 1984 has had its date pushed back even further, to Christmas, which may end up having a knock-on effect of delaying Dune till 2021.

Anyway, I’m going to pretend to be optimistic now, even in the face of what appears to be a long-predicted resurgence of the virus. Let’s say it is, more or less, safe to go back to the cinema. Despite the emptying release schedule, there are still quite a few films going theatrical. And so – in approximate release order – here are the Top Ten Films that I hope I might actually be able to get to see inside a multiplex this two thousand and twenty. Full disclosure: I genuinely don’t think I’ll see ten films before the end of the year. Things being what they usually are, I doubt I’d have managed to see ten films anyway unfortunately, as I don’t manage to go even once a fortnight nowadays (“nowadays” being relative obviously). But here you go; best case scenario.

Well, “best case” under current circumstances, natch.

Tenet (out now!): I’ll almost certainly be seeing this one at least; Nolan makes films that are designed for the big screen, and with its twisty plot and timey-wimey subject matter, I want to see it before it’s spoiled by the internet.

Bill and Ted Face the Music (16th September): I adored the Bill and Ted films when I was a kid, and everybody loves Keanu (although my favourite was always Bill!). I really want to see their triumphant return, which I’m sure will be a feel-good joy-fest.

Wonder Woman 1984 (2nd October): I’m sticking with its old date for now as I’m not certain it’s moved in the UK, but regardless, I hope I can see this. Although I wasn’t wowed by the trailers, the first film was incredible, and I have faith this will be just as great.

Candyman (16th October): the original Candyman was amazing, a truly terrifying horror icon as well as a dark fable about prejudice. With Jordan Peele producing (and rising star Nia DaCosta directing) it has a great pedigree. I don’t get to see many horror films nowadays but I’m looking forward to this.

Black Widow (6th November): I don’t think I’ve missed a single Marvel movie at the cinema, so there’s no way I’m missing this: finally a solo outing for Avengers stalwart Natasha. Will it answer the question of who lives to be Black Widow going forward?

No Time to Die (12th November): I’m not the world’s biggest Bond fan but I do want to see how Daniel Craig ends his tenure. Plus the trailers have been fantastic, especially the sheer badassery of Lashana Lynch and the cocktail dress kung fu of Ana de Armas.

Soul (20th November): I’ve been very reluctant to take my kids back to the cinema, but hope-against-hopefully by November we might all feel sufficiently confident to see the new Pixar, especially as it’s a suitably trippy premise from legendary director Pete Docter.

Dune (18th December): Villeneuve is a true visionary director, an emerging all-time great, so I’m always excited for his next film; he fills vistas with dark cinematic imagery. The recent trailer knocked it out of the park and I cannot wait to see his take on the classic novel.

Coming 2 America (18th December): maybe this is the least-likely to be seen, but as a big Eddie Murphy fan, and a huge fan of the original from way back when, I’m intensely curious as to what this will be like. I just hope it’s funny.

West Side Story (18th December): there’s no way I won’t go see this (he says, there’ll probably be an asteroid strike or something). I’ve not missed a Spielberg since Saving Private Ryan (and apart from Amistad, can go back as far Hook). He’s my favourite director. Plus I like musicals and I really want to see what he does with this.

So there we go: films to see at the flicks. I hope I see a couple of these, I really do. And then not catch COVID! That’d be nice.

#top ten #films #movies #cinema #covid #coronavirus #pandemic #lockdown #tenet

3 notes · View notes

gosatsuvns · 4 years ago

Text

Weekly Update Compilation

Just realized that I kinda neglected the weekly updates here on Tumblr (sorry about that!), so I'll compile the last few right here:

Weekly Update #328: CG & BGM Progress

This past week, I've focused on drawing the "dead body" CG for GENBA no Kizuna, which is quite an undertaking to say the least. I've made a lot of progress on it, but there's still some work left to be done. It took me quite a while to figure out the exact perspective and angle. Thankfully, being married has its perks, so I got Kuna to take a bunch of reference pictures of me while I was lying on the floor, pretending to be dead, haha. That definitely helped tremendously.

Still, the details are going to give me another headache for sure. We're talking about a guy who got eaten by a T-Rex after all, so there's a lot going on in terms of, well... damage.

Anyway, every now and then, I've also continued working on the outline for Withering Without Hope. And speaking of which, I have just released a new Patreon post, delving into the topic of how Broken Beyond Despair sets up and dictates the direction for its sequel.

If you're curious about the changes I felt were necessary in our recent anniversary update, be sure to check it out!

Next week, I'm planning to make another post talking about the time in between BBD and WWH and what exactly happens there. There is quite a gap between October 30 and December 23 after all...

Now, in other news, I've been working with Solo, our composer, on a new BGM track for GENBA. I've already received a first preview of it and it sounds amazing! Can't wait to hear the full version and share it. This time, we're tackling another investigation theme, specifically for the segments you will play as Rei.

That kinda wraps up this week's progress report. I'll get back to working on that CG now, so please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

Weekly Update #327: BGs, CGs, Sprites & WWH

After a bit more BG work, I have finally finished a variation for the 1st Floor Main Hall and one for the 2nd Floor Main Hall. That now only leaves one more variation of the 1st floor and all the necessary BGs for the first three chapters of GENBA are done! Hopefully, I can get to that soon, but first of all, I've decided to tackle the "dead body" CG instead, as it is kinda tied to that BG.

Basically, after recovering the body from the Rex jaws, it will be spread out in the main hall and you will be able to catch a glimpse of it on the missing variation of the 1st floor background. At least that's the plan, but I think drawing the CG first will better help me understand what exactly and how much needs to be visible on said BG.

The CG is kind of intimidating to think about, as it is going to be the most difficult to draw by far. As a result, I've been pushing it off for a while now, but I figured, if I get it out of the way now, that'll be a big relief, haha. I've actually started working on it a while ago, doing some initial sketches. You will see almost the entire body lying on the floor. It's going to be an interactive CG too, meaning that players will be able to click all over the body in order to examine it. As you can imagine, it's going to be a very crucial asset towards solving the mystery death at the Kaseki residence, so it will require a lot of attention to detail.

My goal is to finish it by the end of the month, so I have just about a week left, which will hopefully be enough!

Outside of finishing those BG variations and getting back into the body CG, I've been working on some more sprite variations for Keiichi and Amber. Unfortunately, I kinda suffered a setback of sorts by accidentally deleting one of Amber's new sprites "orz Thankfully, I still had the low quality preview I posted on Patreon, so I was able to restore it, even if that was kind of an annoying and rather frustrating occurrence...

I have to doublecheck with the script, but this might be it in terms of sprites for the first chapter, too. In the end, Keiichi only got one new one, depicting him with a somewhat worried expression:

Now, one other thing I've been working on is Withering Without Hope. With the Christmas season drawing near, I'm really getting into the mood for it, so I've been working on the outline for the first chapter. I'd like to continue working on this on the side and hopefully finish at least the entire first chapter outline before the end of the year. The goal here is to have the full script for the game done by the time GENBA will be released.

If you're a patron, you should keep your eyes open, as I'm also going to share some behind-the-scenes info for WWH soon! Been wanting to do that for a while now and just haven't gotten around to it...

Anyway, guess that about wraps it up for today so, please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

Weekly Update #326: GENBA Background Progress

Alright, after a bit more work, I have finally finished the background for the second floor of the main hall and, along with it, adjusted the other two main hall BGs. If you want to learn more about my struggles with these, be sure to check out last week's blog post where I talk a little about visual consistency. I've also made a post on my private Twitter, showcasing the differences between the old and the new version of the first floor main hall. As for the second floor, here's another preview for that one as well:

Now, what's left are the variations of these two BGs, which I've also worked on. One variation for each of them is almost done as well, just missing one last detail which I'll take care of tomorrow. That will leave only one more variation for the first floor background, which will display a couple more pieces of evidence. As mentioned last week, once these are done, we're gonna be good on backgrounds for a while. That's because the second chapter will not need any new BGs, as no new locations inside the residence will be visited. As for chapter 3, the mid-point case discussion... that one will take place entirely in the exhibition room featured at the end of our demo. So no new BGs for that one either!

Well, I did mention before that I'm playing with the idea of making one more simple BG for said exhibition room. Since the cast will spent quite a while there, discussing the mysteries (think of the dining hall in SHINRAI), it would probably be nice to get some visual variety. However, as I don't deem this to be an "essential background", it's a bit lower on my priority list. For now, I just want to focus on the assets that are absolutely necessary to tell the story. And when we talk about "essential" backgrounds, there are actually only four left now: the wash room, the back corridor, the backyard and one of the suspect rooms.

Before I get to any of those, I'm still aiming to finish all the assets for the first chapter, though. Which (BG variations aside) now only leaves a couple of sprite variations and two CGs. One of those is going to be very elaborate, though, so it will probably take me a while to get it done. I'll most likely work on it next month and, for the rest of November, take care of the sprites and script revisions.

Anyway, that about sums up the current progress. Time to get back to work, so please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

#shinrai #genba #visual novel #visualnovel #visual novel development #vn #evn #vndev #game development #gamedev #indie game #indiedev #indie #Ren'Py #renpy #interactive fiction #murder mystery #detective game

1 note · View note

tolkien-in-beleriand · 5 years ago

Text

so a number of people is curious about PhD here in Brazil and as I have nothing else I want to do right now let me tell you about it

I’ll talk about the two processes I went through for my PhD (masters is kinda the same but a bit simpler)

as I already told you here in Brazil the best universities are free, it’s kinda hard to get in but if you do you have the best education available in the country and chances are you will get some kind of scholarship. in my case as I am poor as hell I had a scholarship since first year of grad school and also a place to live. yes, I was paid to live in a nice city away from my abusive family and to study in the best program of my field in Brazil

then came the masters in which I also had a scholarship

and then the nightmare begins

see as part of my scholarship I had to finish my masters in two years. what does it mean? it means that in my second year I was writing my masters dissertation, finishing papers, preparing for qualification, then argumentation, writing my PhD project and preparing for the PhD tests

and of course as you probably know by now I love complicating things so I applied for two PhDs programs. why? only God knows, but I did. now each university has its own way to deal with PhDs applications so I’ll tell you about the two kinds of tests I had to go through

first my home university:

first you write a project. 20 pages. must have: abstract, key words, title, introduction, methodology, cronogram of activities, bibliographic references. it must present a certain novelty in the idea, they want something new, a thesis (that I will later prove right or wrong in 200 to 300 pages). my thesis was basically “Fantasy is a literature genre and it IS NOT the same as fantastic literature (don’t get me started - I wrote a PhD thesis about it but I’m still bitter)”

you need to hand this project in September. then in October is the written test. in our field the written test (in this particular university, as I said it varies) is: they pick a literary topic, that is a surprise only reveled to us mortals the day and hour of the test, and we have four hours to write an essay about it, in a room like an exam, no researches allowed. the topic in my year was History and Literature. then they grade the essay 0-10 and you need at least a 7 to go to next phase.

fine, now the few people who got the 7 go to phase “analyzing the project”. you get a grade on that too. and you need a 7 to pass as well.

then if you are lucky enough to have your project accepted you go to phase “interview” when a board will make all kinds of questions about your study, project, plans, you know... to make sure you were the one who wrote the thing and know what you’re talking about (I just need to mention here that at my interview they said my project was perfect and made 0 questions because, and I quote, “we know your trajetory and we know what you are capable of and no one else studies Fantasy Literature here”)

then they grade the interview. if you didn’t get at least a 7 bye bye bird, it doesn’t matter if your project was perfect and you aced the written test, it’s goodbye

after this they add all the scores and divide by something and if your final score is below 7, that’s goodbye too.

then you need to do the language test because oh yes YOU DO NEED TO KNOW TWO FOREIGN LANGUAGES to be accepted in any PhD program here.

and that’s it for my first application. I passed first place. usually the good programs gets scholarships and our program was very good so we had like six scholarships every year for sure and then maybe more. they give the scholarships according to the final score so yep I got it

but... when I traveled for my second PhD application I still didn’t have any of my scores, I didn’t even know if I had passed the written test and let me tell you I was desperate and honest to God terrified I wouldn’t pass

anyway, now process number two:

they make things quite different there and they are way more demanding so I was just really terrifie that I would end the year with a crappy masters and no PhD perspective.

first test they do is the language one, a translation and ooooh boi do I hate translating stuff. but it was okay, I wasn’t worried about that part. the system there was very different. while at my home university the process was spread through months, here you had three days of tests and if you failed the first day you are not even invited for the next day. again, you need 7 to pass.

so first day: language test, 52 people applying. 20 passed for day two, me included.

second day, written test. I knew they had a different style from my home university but I was not prepared for that. they gave you 10 questions, all about literature. you had to pick five and answer. so you kinda had to write 5 mini essays on 5 different topics and the questions were like “in the page 25 of the essay Memory in Baudelaire by Walter Benjamin the author express a view on how experience play a central part in the story of the narrative genre. comment on that.”

one of them was to “comment on” the trajetory of the novel as a genre. I read the 10 questions then I started laughing. then I noticed the Professor in the class was the one I wanted as my supervisor there (she is like a big deal in Fantasy studies), the one who, in two months, would be in the board of my masters argumentation. I started crying. so much. I had to be escorted to the bathroom to “calm down”. well, I thought, it’s over, I better not even come back to the exam room and save me the embarrassment of looking the Professor in the eyes. but I couldn’t do that. I had to at least convince myself that I did everything I could. so I went back and started answering the ones I thought I had a shot at. we had four hours too and after doing my darnest to answer 4 questions I wanted to die before having to answer one more. so I chose the novel one because, you know it’s not that hard to trace a genealogy of the novel as a genre. but I was so tired. so incrediby tired and I thought I won’t pass anyway so I might as well have some fun. and friends, what did I do? I wrote a mini novel where my protagonist was the novel “living” through all its phases. I can’t remember a word of that but I did it.

when I was back to the hotel I started crying so much and felt so guilty, I was sure I would fail both programs. next morning the result would be on campus and honestly I only went there because I had spent too much money to just ignore the result, I would never have peace if I didn’t check. but I was really really sure I didn’t pass so I checked out the hotel, got into a taxi, asked him to take me to campus for two minutes, so I could check a thing, and then he could take me to the station

ooooh I have no words to describe my happiness when I looked to a list of FIVE names who had got through to the next phase and my name was there.

I still can’t believe it and until this day I wonder what kind of crap did people write because they considered my “novel is a protagonist of a novel” answer over other 15????

anyway so I was happy but fucked because I had checked out the hotel so I had no place to go and the interview would be only at 5pm so there I was full of bags wandering around the campus waiting for my interview.

interview time: board with two fucking specialists in the Fantasy field and an ass who thinks she is above this. I was very nervous, they asked a bunch of questions about my project (oh yeah I forgot to say you had to hand a project like in the other uni and it is considered part of your application as well) and then... last question... from the ass “why do you consider fantasy as literature” I froze, the other two smiled (they knew my reputation). I want to murder that woman. why do I consider fantasy as literature? WHY?? son of a motherfucking bitch. so I smile*** and ask “what do you study?” she answers “Goethe” with an air of superiority. I say “oh I love Goethe, he is magnificent and the way he.... bla bla bla” I was just showing off. then I say “now think about why you consider Goethe literature. that’s your answer.” I want to say that if I had a mic I would drop it but nah... if I had a mic I would probably make that bitch eat it.

they didn’t have score there, you only passed or failed. I passed. one of five. from 52. I got a scholarship there too, but I decided to stay home. my supervisor at my uni was amazing and a wonderful person and so so smart and funny and he is in a band and is super cool and nerdy, also one of my best friends and one of the most successful translators in Brazil

so yes. this is two of the possibles processes you can go through to get in a top PhD program. and that friends is the easy part. seriously, masters and doctorates are exhausting and it breaks you. neurotypicals get mental illnesses because of it and honest to God I don’t know how I managed it. neither does my doctors. no, actually I know. it was spite.

*** funny story: because of an incident in my masters interview, before my PhDs interviews my supervisor called me to “teach me how to interact with stupid people”. he basically told me I was not supposed to laugh at a stupid question, I was not supposed to death stare the board after a stupid question and, of course, I was not allowed to get up and leave. because I did all that in my masters interview and almost didn’t get into the program. then he made me pretend he was the board talking shit and I had to smile and take notes. his words “it doesn’t matter if you are writing a curse and planning that person’s murder, smile and take notes.”

in my defence I did all that because in my masters interview a Professor asked me if I knew that Tolkien was an author who died in the 70s and that The Lord of the Rings wasn’t just a movie. after I laughed and asked if she was joking she got mad and then I tried to explain that yes, I did in fact know that John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, born in January 3rd, 1892 and dead in September, 2nd, 1973, was an author and wrote the book called The Lord of the Rings who inspired Peter Jackson’s trilogy. then I pointed out that my study had nothing to do with The Lord of the Rings, book or movie. I was in fact studying Tolkien’s essay “On Fairy Stories” and how critics point out The Lord of the Rings as the base of moderny fantasy without noting that Tolkien himself wrote the theory I consider the foundation of fantasy as a genre. then she said “that was done before” and I said “no it wasn’t, surprisingly enough people never came to this conclusion until now” and she looked me in the eyes and asked “are you sure? did you do a deep and careful research on the matter?” and I said “yes I did” and I swear to God she asked “did you try google it?”

yep I just got up and left. did I try google??? are you fucking serious? yes I did, when I wasn’t even at the uni yet you moron. google. can you believe it? I was reading papers from Oxford and Cambridge and this ass ask me if I used google.

I had a very bad score at my masters interview but my supervisor loved it anyway.

so that’s it. I hope it helps to have an idea how things work around here.

#phdblr #phd #masters #academic life #long post #very loooong post

7 notes · View notes

aelaer · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober 31: Embrace

And somehow I've completed every prompt for @whumptober2019 with this final one here. Even more crazy, I basically completed NaNoWriMo with this series, only, you know, in October. The Google Doc all my fics live in for this series is at 51,299 words with the following fic's completion. Considering I was absolutely not attempting the challenge when I started this, I'm counting that as a complete NaNoWriMo, even if it does include a lot of the author's notes in that word count. Doesn't matter, it's still my writing!

So thank you very much to the mods for putting this together, because I would have never come up with all of these stories (which includes three series) otherwise.

I'll have the full list linked on my "bingo list" post, and the works have been slowly going up on AO3 for easier reading (and AO3 is only about a week behind at this point) - all the links will come probably in the next week or so. I'll reblog it when it's ready.

This one is the last one in the "demon" series within these prompt fills. If someone told me on the 2nd that my experimentation in first person would lead to this I wouldn't have believed them because I wouldn't have thought I was crazy enough to do every prompt while working a full time job on the freaking fly. *shakes head*

The series: Part One: 20 - Trembling Part Two: 22 - Alt 6 - Lost Part Three: 25 - Humiliation Part Four: 29 - Numb (and fanart(!!!!!) from dragonnan here, tw blood/wounds)

31. Embrace

Christine looked up at the Sanctum doors with a soft frown. Out of all the times she had been to Stephen's weird new home, this was the first time she could remember that she was coming without an advance notice of any sort.

The thing was, though, that after that… that thing (she really didn't like to think about it too much) over three months ago, Stephen had been acting odd. And even if they didn't tend to see each other more than once a month (and sometimes not even that), they kept in touch fairly consistently through texts. She knew he used her as a bit of a remaining connection to the so-called real world and she was happy to provide it. Besides, it was fun to share hospital gossip with him.

But for a while he had been very limited in his conversation until he stopped replying entirely two weeks ago. She texted Wong to see if he was especially busy "being a superhero" but he assured her that it's been relatively quiet since "the demon issue" (ugh, she really didn't want to think about it).

So here she was, come to figure out why the hell he was suddenly ghosting her.

After a moment of hesitation, Christine ascended the two steps up to the doors and firmly knocked upon them. After waiting for thirty seconds with no response, she bit her bottom lip and looked at her purse; maybe she should text someone, see if anyone was available—

Suddenly, the door opened… but she couldn't see anyone on the other side of it.

Magic house, right, she thought dryly as she stepped in. She knew a little bit of the weirdness that encompassed Stephen's new home, but generally speaking the building had acted like a proper, regular building every time she visited (and, to her own credit, she never went into any of the rooms that Stephen told her to leave alone. That made perfect sense to her, but apparently not everyone had her common sense, at least according to Wong).

Long story short, this was different.

"Uh, hello?" she called out into the empty foyer. "Stephen? Wong? … anyone?"

Yeah, it was completely empty. This was… this was definitely unusual.

Still, she had been at his house— the so-called Sanctum— enough times to remember where Stephen's study and the library were, so she decided to search those two rooms. Since the house had let her in, she figured she was more than welcome to.

If she wasn't, well, she'd blame the magic house.

She ventured first towards the library, careful not to touch anything sitting on the shelves or hanging on the walls. Even with her familiarity with the Sanctum, many of the items in the building's collection continued to look rather otherworldly or just felt outright wrong to her.

(Christine had learned early on, maybe her second or third time within the Sanctum, that they had a surprising amount of dangerous things on display for aesthetic purposes. At her remark about that, Stephen had pointed out that they didn't exactly have any children within the Sanctum to worry about. Wong later said that having magical items on display was a fantastic litmus test to weed out any really idiotic and self-destructive novices and apprentices, though that the test had somehow failed with Stephen. Stephen had flipped the bird at that remark, but she had seen it was in good nature, and it definitely made her happy to see the somewhat reclusive man making friends with his new cult.)

The library doors were closed. She knocked, then tried the handle; it opened and she peeked into a library that still looked like it was stuck somewhere in the nineteenth century. It was completely empty.

Now that she thought about it, it was a little weird she had yet to run into anyone. While Stephen's new home was rather empty the first few months he was there, it did not become uncommon to see the occasional passerby, though only a few people stopped to talk with her when she was with Stephen. When she really thought about it, she couldn't actually remember the last time she hadn't seen other people in the Sanctum.

Weird.

Christine shut the library doors again and started towards Stephen's study. It was closer to his bedroom (which she only knew because she came over to bring him soup when he had to cancel a meetup because he was sick, thank you very much), so she went up a level and headed there.

Stephen's study door was closed, too. She knocked and heard some sort of noise just beyond the door. Christine waited, but when nothing happened, she knocked again. "Stephen? It's me. Can I come in?"

Silence. She frowned and tried the door, but it didn't budge. "C'mon, Stephen. Even if you don't want to see me, at least reply to me." Even though she tried to pretend to be genuinely unbothered, the silent treatment did sting. He was meant to be a friend, after all.

The knob on the door jiggled and it opened, but all she saw in the small gap was shades of red. Why was the Cloak opening the door? Was Stephen hurt? At that alarming thought, Christine pushed the door fully open, the Cloak sweeping aside to give her full access of the room.

Stephen was… Stephen was sitting in the air, meditating, it looked like. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw he was okay, but her lips began to downturn as she stepped a bit closer. There were dark shadows under his eyes and it appeared like he had lost a bit of weight. Didn't Wong say that things were currently calm and uneventful? At the moment, Stephen looked something like he did after the alien invasion in 2012, only somehow worse. (She had, of course, seen even worse than this, but she refused to think back on the months after the accident. He was a different man, a much different man now.)

Christine took a couple steps back so she didn't startle him when he came back from wherever he went to when he was meditating. "Is he okay?" she whispered to the Cloak. It still astounded her how communicative the fabric could be.

And she really didn't like how it down-turned to bow its collar, only to end up shrugging its shoulders in a gesture that spoke of uncertainty. Her frown deepened and she went back to watching him and, finally accepting that he might take a while, asked the Cloak, "Are there any books here in English that are safe for me to read?" The Cloak tapped at several options, and she picked one at random to read.

It turned out it was about souls, of all things. She had keyed in that they were very much real things after… after everything that happened with the world in the last few years, but beyond that she only had a vague grasp of what it was, or what she thought it was, from the occasional visit to church as a kid.

The first five pages of the book were both incredibly dry and fascinating at the same time. It reminded her of many medical textbooks; no wonder Stephen was so good at this magic stuff, if this was the tone of the material in all his books. Christine settled down into a rather plush loveseat and got comfortable; her record for waiting on Stephen to "come back" was forty-five minutes, and during that wait Wong had proved to be surprisingly entertaining, funny, and kind. If anything, getting to know him better had made Christine feel a lot better about Stephen's very strange (hah) new role in life.

This time it was just after twenty minutes when she heard Stephen say in clear confusion, "Christine?"

She looked up from the book; he was now standing and his expression matched his tone. She offered a smile. "Oh, there you are."

"What are you doing here?"

If she didn't know him better, she might have been a bit miffed by that greeting. However, she did know him, knew him very well, and he sounded honestly puzzled. Still, she was more than happy to respond to bluntness with bluntness. "I came here to see why you're ghosting me."

Stephen looked startled by the accusation. "I'm not ghosting you— or certainly not intentionally. I've been too busy to check on my phone in a couple weeks."

"No, you haven't," Christine countered, and her comment surprised him so much that she was able to continue without interruption. "I asked Wong if things were busy and if you all were overworked with your jobs. He told me it's been so quiet that he finally got to catch up on the last two seasons of 90 Day Fiance and the newest season of Botched, and I still can't believe he enjoys trash TV so much."

He blinked and shook his head. "I knew you two talked sometimes, but— but that's not the point." He walked over to his desk; the Cloak followed him halfway before stopping in the middle of the room, and turned from him to her, and then back to him. He rounded the desk and flipped through several pieces of paper, looking them over as he said, "It's been quiet, yes, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been busy. There is always work to be done and I just don't have time for other things."

She narrowed her eyes at him and placed the book down before standing. The Cloak was again facing her as she took a couple steps forward. "Other things like the occasional break? Talking with friends? Sleeping?"

Stephen narrowed his eyes at her. "I've been sleeping just fine, thank you."

"Stephen, I can see the dark circles around your eyes from here. You're not hiding it from anyone."

He blinked and quickly strode over to a small mirror on the wall, back to her. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, but it was quiet enough in the room to hear. When he turned back around, the bags were completely gone and he looked fully refreshed.

Christine gaped. "You're using magic to hide your exhaustion? I can't believe you!" Actually, on second thought, she could very, very much believe he would do something like this. As one of his friends, he drove her absolutely insane sometimes.

"I do what I must," he retorted. "I am still relatively new to my position and there is entirely too much to do and learn, and I cannot show any faltering to the students of Kamar-Taj."

"What about your peers?" she retorted right back. "What about Wong or, or any of the others, these Masters? Does anyone know what you actually look like or what you're putting yourself through?"

"There is no need for them to," Stephen answered, lips pressed into a thin line. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do have work I need to do, as enjoyable as this little conversation has been."

Christine recognized that biting sarcasm a mile away. She pulled out her phone and looked for Wong in her contacts.

"What are you doing?" Now he sounded alarmed.

"Telling Wong that you need a damn babysitter," she snapped.

She managed to type a couple words of her text before she heard sparks and then a golden rope wrapped around her right wrist. It didn't hurt, but its sudden appearance caused Christine to drop her phone in surprise. Her eyes shot up at Stephen, who looked just as shocked as her by its presence in his hand. A beat later and the magic rope was gone and Stephen was stumbling backwards, clear horror in his eyes.

Okay, that was… not good he did it in the first place, but clearly he realized that and looked on the verge of panic. She pushed the issue to the side to talk about later and instead addressed what was in front of her right at this moment. "Hey, hey," she said slowly, calmly. She left her phone on the floor and took two slow steps forward. "It's okay, Stephen. You didn't hurt me. Not even a mark, see?" She lifted her wrist to show him. "It's alright."

"That was not alright," he said. He made it to the back wall and leaned heavily against it. "That was not alright at all."

"I am not angry at you," she answered slowly in a slow, calm voice. "Everything is okay."

"No it's not," he gasped, as if struggling for air. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, and Christine finished crossing the distance between them to sit a few feet away. He stared off for a moment, then met her eyes. "I could've hurt you."

"You didn't," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "But I— Christine, this is why we can't— I can't see you anymore. I only bring danger whether it's through my own actions or due to who I am."

"You are not completely yourself right now," she reminded him gently. "You're clearly exhausted, and even then you caught your temper immediately. That's a vast improvement from a few years ago." He snorted in self-derision, and she pressed on. "As for who you are, I've known for years that there might be risks. I'm okay with that."

"I'm not," he whispered.

She offered him a small smile. "You don't get to decide who wants to be your friend, Stephen. And I know you and your level of stubbornness, but you know I can be just as stubborn if I want to be. And you're worth the effort."

He closed his eyes and shuddered. "I'm not so sure I am."

"You are," she retorted a bit more strongly. Lips downturned in thought, she considered his words. "Is this about that… that demon thing that happened three months ago?" Come to think of it, that did about match the timing when he started seeming a bit off, at least in texting habits.

Stephen pressed his lips together. "That should have never happened. I failed to place basic protection about you and it was a gross oversight on my part."

"Congratulations, you're human," Christine deadpanned, then softened it with a small smile and added, "no matter how much you'd like to think otherwise." He took another shuddering breath and leaned his head back against the wall. In the corner of her eye she saw the Cloak hovering, as if anxious. And she definitely understood that feeling.

But this, this was a start. "Stephen," she said softly, "I think it's time you told us what exactly happened after you got me back home." He stilled, and she couldn't quite read him, but she said, "Please, Stephen. Let your friends back in." She reached out and laid a hand on his calf.

Again he shuddered and, after a moment, he slowly nodded. She gave him a small, encouraging smile before offering her hand. He took it and together they got back up on their feet.

She led him to the loveseat and had him sit down. She sat beside him and asked, "Is it okay if I have Wong join us? Or will that be too hard?"

Stephen closed his eyes and again pressed his lips together, but a moment later responded, "You can call him. He probably deserves an explanation as well."

Christine gently squeezed his forearm, then stood up and went for her dropped phone. She abandoned the text and tried calling Wong instead.

He picked up on the third ring. "Christine," he said in greeting. He didn't sound surprised (she wasn't sure if he ever allowed himself to sound surprised), but she'd like to think that he at least knew she wasn't calling for no good reason. They texted, not called. That was what they did.

"Hey Wong, are you busy?"

"Not with anything I cannot finish later," he replied. "Do you need something?"

"Not me," she answered, walking back to Stephen. He had his head bowed. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "It's Stephen. He could use another friend here, if you don't mind."

A pause that, again, she couldn't read. "Certainly," he answered. "Where are you?"

"In his study. And um, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, could you make that tea of yours?" He made really good tea.

"I can," he answered, and with that he hung up. Succinct, as always.

"He'll probably be here as soon as the tea's ready," she said as she sat back down beside him. "I like his tea."

Stephen slowly nodded. "It's very good tea," he muttered.

Christine peered at his face. "Are you going to wear the mask around him?" she asked.

He exhaled, long and slow. "Not much point if we're having this conversation, is there?"

"It's okay to be human, Stephen."

He shot her a grim smile, and slowly the mask that covered his exhausted face dissipated. The Cloak closed the distance it had to the couch and hovered at Stephen's side.

A couple minutes later, a portal opened straight from the kitchen and Wong floated a tea tray into the study before following it in. The golden sparks disappeared behind him and he turned to look at the two of them on the couch. He stared at Stephen for a moment, then exhaled. "I suspected something," he muttered, almost as if to himself. He let the tray settle on the table in front of the loveseat and summoned the chair from the corner of the room to sit across from it, and from them. Wong settled in the seat and poured out three mugs of tea, keeping Stephen's only partially full. He gave them both their cups wordlessly, then sat back and looked at Stephen with silent, but unjudging expectation.

The man in question huffed as he grabbed the mug and took a short sip. "Now all I need is a blanket to get real cozy," he muttered.

The Cloak, in turn, twisted its way between Stephen's arms and legs and settled across both his and Christine's laps.

She laughed softly at his slight frown at the garment and patted the red fabric on her lap. "Good Cloak."

They fell into a patient silence after that, both Christine and Wong quietly drinking their tea as Stephen gathered his words. She could see his struggle in his small microexpressions that she had only learned after knowing him so well after so many years. Wong, she suspected, could read him nearly as well, if not equally.

Eventually he cleared his throat and began to speak. "In return for Christine to get back safely to Earth, I agreed with the demon Mephisto to play games of his choosing for the next twenty-four hours…"

Christine listened in growing horror as he described each game, seeing how this creature had somehow known about Stephen's innate need to protect and rescue innocents and how he dangled souls that, no matter their decisions, he would certainly see as people taken advantage of in desperate, awful times. Throughout his recollection she occasionally looked at Wong; the man's expression was completely frozen in a soft frown. She had a feeling that it was a mechanism to keep the absolute horror off his face. Goodness knew that she was doing her best to appear supportive and sympathetic as opposed to absolutely horrified.

It only got more difficult as Stephen's account went on. By the time he finally got to where he was let go back to Earth with the six souls he managed to save, her free hand was gripping the Cloak so tightly that she felt that she might rip through it, were it not the Cloak.

"I've replayed those hours time and again in my head," he muttered as he stared down at his shaking hands; the quivering had incrementally increased throughout the tale. "All I can think about is all the ways I could have done more, done better, saved more innocents. It was only due to his whims that I was able to save any."

"Oh, Stephen." She leaned towards him and, without asking for permission, engulfed him in a large hug. She felt the Cloak wrap around her side and she was sure it was pressing against Stephen on the other side.

She felt him let go for a moment and indulge in the embrace before pulling away, and she let go and gave him his space again. She watched him as he looked up to Wong, who had managed to keep his amazing poker face with only the slight frown throughout the conversation. "Wong," Stephen started, "I couldn't— I couldn't bear telling the other Masters about my failures in my first real test as Sorcerer Supreme. And I promise you, I've been doing everything in my power to bridge the gaps that remain in my knowledge and power so that I may be more capable in meeting such threats, whether I have the aid of the Vishanti or not."

Wong exhaled and clasped his hands together. "The experience you call a failure, Stephen, is what all of us consider a success," he started. Stephen immediately opened his mouth to argue, but Wong quickly said, "Let me finish, and try to listen to my words and not the doubt that plagues your mind as I speak." He leaned forward. "When you first left with the demon that refused to name itself, we thought it a lesser one that a sorcerer of your caliber could deal with, even on its own plane of existence. Any one of us present would have been able to, though it would not necessarily be easy. It was with that thought in mind that we left you with advice rather than protests, though Master Hamir was correct in his suspicions that the demon was unusually more powerful than those we've encountered in recent memory.

"I know you have been doing a lot of research on demonology, Stephen, and what information we have upon the greater demons known as the Hell-Lords. There is a reason that, despite thousands of years of collecting knowledge, what we know of them is so little. Hell-Lords are very powerful due to the number of souls they have attained over the uncounted millennia in which sentient, reasoning lifeforms have existed. They gather more souls to be ever the strongest, but they are not desperate for every sentient being they come across. Hell-Lords are unlike lesser demons in that they will kill if they don't think the person's soul is worth the effort."

Christine grabbed at the Cloak again and looked again to Stephen; he, in turn, was looking at her with a tight expression.

They both turned to Wong as the man continued, "Had we known this was one of the Hell-Lords, we would have done as much as we could to stop you, perhaps even by force— though I doubt that would have worked in our favour. So we would have seen you off and declared you dead, more than likely."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "Dead? Immediately? Why?"

"The last time a Sorcerer Supreme fought a Hell-Lord within their own domain and lived was the first one in Agamotto. The last time anyone encountered one was the Ancient One in Germany at the end of WWII. From what I understand there were three Hell-Lords present in the spring of 1945 in that country, but as they were upon Earth's plane, they were manageable. Facing one in its own dimension is unprecedented in modern history. That you were able to play its games with enough wit to not only survive, but to also bring back six souls that would have otherwise been lost, is a great victory."

Christine watched as Stephen's gaze fell to his hands, still trembling. "It did not feel like a victory," he mumbled. "Each test, each game I failed in some manner."

Wong shook his head. "Each test was specifically designed to take advantage of what Mephisto would consider your weaknesses, though I assure you your passion for the soul of the individual is considered one of your greatest strengths by all of us." Stephen lifted his head in surprise, but Wong continued on. "Consider this: if it had been Hamir in your place, one of his tests would have involved something that would give a person with two hands a distinct advantage. If it had been Minoru, you know there would have been something with spiders." Stephen's lips twitched upward, and Wong raised his brow pointedly. "The point, Stephen, is that this demon is known as a deceptive trickster. He twisted his so-called games to place you in the worst possible position and keep you in a position of doubt."

"Out of all of this, what I do find concerning," Wong admitted, "is that he knew you so well. It is possible that he has been watching you for some time."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "Why would he do that?"

"It is hard to say," he answered. "Demons are soulless creatures with no concept of time beyond the souls which they trick and enslave. It is thought that some have some greater perception of the wider multiverse and their realities; it is possible that Mephisto has some small knowledge from that."

Christine did not like where this conversation was going, and there was still one rather important thing to address at that time. "I think what you should get out of this, Stephen," she started, "is that you are most certainly not a failure. You can't be so hard on yourself."

He gave her an imploring look, as if willing her to understand him. "I have a great responsibility to this world and I cannot—"

"No, she's completely right," Wong interrupted. "Kamar-Taj calls for devotion wholly to defending reality, but you can't do that if you're half-dead from exhaustion."

"I'm not—"

"You wouldn't be using glamour if it wasn't an issue," Wong pointed out, and Stephen had nothing to retort to that. "And," he added, "the occasional lunch or ice cream break is not only permitted, but encouraged to retain one's sanity and reminder as to why we do what we do."

Stephen gave him a long look. "Are you saying you do it for ice cream?"

"And so that reality TV may flourish unhindered," Wong replied, and Christine quickly covered a surprised laugh. "If there are indeed areas you believe you may be lacking in knowledge, all the Masters will be more than willing to assist you, though I feel that you are equal if not more knowledgeable in most fields. But we can talk about that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?"

"Because you look absolutely awful and clearly need to sleep for the next twenty-four hours," he retorted.

Stephen frowned. "I'm awake and functioning."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Barely. Get some sleep!"

The Cloak lifted itself off their laps and waited expectantly beside the study door, causing its keeper to make a face at it.

Wong stood up and walked over to him, offering him a hand. "Listen to your friends. We can discuss more details about what happened and where we need to go tomorrow, but for now, you need to rest. No matter what you have been telling yourself, you do deserve it."

He hesitated, but for only a couple seconds before taking Wong's proffered hand and letting his friend hoist him up. "Don't let me sleep too long," Stephen muttered.

"You're sleeping for the next week if you have to," Wong retorted.

"I can get some drugs that would do that," Christine quipped as she got to her feet.

"No need; we have spells that can do the same, but thank you for the offer all the same."

"You're both terrible," Stephen moaned as he trudged to the door. The Cloak fit itself snugly across his shoulders.

"You're welcome," she said in return, and he glanced at her with a soft, but very warm smile that still made her heart do things that it shouldn't do, all these years later. Damn that man. "I'll text you."

"You'll hear from me," he promised, and then he turned and let Wong and the Cloak usher him towards his bedroom for some much-needed sleep and, for the first time in a long time, a peaceful time of rest.

—————

(Anndddd the series is done! Wooow. Whoda thought this was going to be a thing, because I certainly didn't.

You can take the headcanon that Wong is an enthusiastic fan of trashy reality TV shows from my cold dead hands. Definitely inspired by my two co-workers I work with the most, though I have had the occasional reality TV show binge watch.)

#whumptober2019 #no.31 #embrace #stephen strange #doctor strange #christine palmer #wong #doctor strange fanfic #genre: angst #genre: friendship #my writing #my fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

villavineyards · 5 years ago

Text

too good to be good for me

: what’s up guys so uh here’s my first ever noah thing because i think it’d be fun to branch out a lil :P nothing too intense here just some casual declarations of love lol

-you brooded, watching noah and hope sit next to each other as they chatted. you sighed, sinking further into the firepit seat as you sipped your violet man.

chelsea appeared, sitting next to you suddenly.

“babes! why aren’t you with lucas?” she asked ever-so cheerfully, making you give her a soft smile.

“felt like being alone tonight,” you mumbled, watching chelsea’s eyebrows furrow for a second before she hummed. “you don’t count, hun. best friends are always welcome.” you added quickly, watching a smile light up her face.

“thank you. although, i think i know why you’re really alone,” she drew the sentence out teasingly, casting her eyes over to noah’s direction briefly and then back to you. you flushed, nervously sipping your drink again.

“maybe. maybe not,” you said quietly, chelsea giggling afterwards. you laughed a little too, at yourself and the situation you found yourself in.

“you know, i was never one of those girls who liked other girls’ boyfriends, but after what rocco did, and when noah was the first one to comfort me about it and tell me it wasn’t my fault... i just.. saw him differently.

“and then i noticed how shaky his relationship with hope was. figured i could sneak my way in there, maybe turn his head. but hope just..” you trailed off, chelsea nodding every second.

“i get it. not really, but i understand. sometimes, the heart wants what it wants.” she said, and you sighed, appreciating her effort. “hey, what’s meant for you will find its way. i have a good feeling about you and noah.” chelsea said, and then stood up to refill her drink.

you stayed still, staring into your drink as you thought about the rest of your time in the vila. you don’t know when it happened, but you looked up to suddenly see noah standing before you.

“can we chat?” he asked, and you nodded slowly as you scooted over. he sighed as she sat down, and looked at you. “is everything okay?” you asked, finally looking him in the eye.

“yeah, yeah. i’m good. just, wanted to chat.” he said rigidly, making you chuckle slightly as you tried not to show how anxious you were. “well, let’s chat.” you mused, taking a long swig of your drink.

“i broke up with hope.”

you choked, spitting some of your drink out slightly as your face paled. “you what?” you asked, and he chuckled nervously. “a few minutes ago. i realized that.. i deserve better. better than someone who tries controlling who i talk to and where i am all the time.” he said seriously, and you nodded, setting down your drink.

“so you came here to talk to me?” you asked teasingly, watching a blush spread across his beautiful face. “there could never be anyone else,” he mumbled, and you suddenly realized how close you are.

“so, what are you thinking?” you asked, and he grinned at you before humming thoughtfully. “thinking we might have to wait a few days before we go official so hope doesn’t murder us in our sleep,” he whispered, making you giggle until you realized his face was getting closer.

before he went in for the kiss, he murmured “it’s always been you,” and kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, his arms wrapping around you to bring you closer.

as much as you wanted to deepen the kiss, you could feel the passion and hope behind this kiss, the joy in knowing that know you two can finally be together.

he kissed you so tenderly, as if this was a dream and he was afraid to wake up. you pulled away, and cradled his face in your hands. “just don’t make me wait forever,” you said teasingly, making him laugh loudly.

you both turned to the villa, and your face paled as you saw hope watching from the balcony.

you turned to noah again, and he was still smiling at you. you smiled back, and kissed him again, still smiling as it finally hit you that you’ve won.

hi :3 nothing new’s happened in my life lol but i hope this was okay! it was weird to write for noah and i will admit i did type bobby every now and then lolol anyways </3 only a few weeks left now you guys ))-:

edit as of october 2nd: okay so this was originally written like mid september and this did NOT age well at all jrkdksk let’s just pretend 😔

#unedited #we die like men #li:tg #litg #litg2 #love island #love island season two #love island the game #love island the game season two #li:tg2 #love island imagine #love island noah #imagine

31 notes · View notes

glasskaleidoscopes · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Friday, October 2nd, 2009

The Brudowskis had put together a small memorial service for Peter Sanders about 2 weeks later, which had been difficult for everyone. It was held in a church, and about 30 people came. After counting the Brudowski and Ewing families, there were a handful of Peter’s co-workers who attended the service, as well as a few old friends. It was a closed casket funeral, with beautiful bouquets of flowers covering the church. Carolyn spoke briefly, with Sam at her side, and by the time she was done, there was not a dry eye to be seen. Vera and Sallie recited a poem, and Janet Brudowski came up and led everyone in a hymn. For the next couple days after the funeral, Carolyn and Sam were in a complete haze. Sallie and Vera instantly recognized the challenges they were going through and were happy to help. Sallie was coming over to the Brudowski household home every afternoon now. While her parents were not thrilled about her spending so much time away from home, they acknowledged that her friend was hurting, and Sallie was still getting all of her homework done so they couldn’t really protest much.

Now, a few weeks after the funeral, Carolyn and Sam were finally starting to feel a bit of normalcy slip into their lives. Brittany and Sam had become good friends; they would read together, and Brittany would even let Sam talk about the Cubs while Brittany pretended to understand baseball. Carolyn enjoyed spending so much time with her friends, especially since they were all diligent students. They could help each other when one of them got stuck on a certain homework problem. Carolyn’s birthday was coming up, and she actually felt a little excited. She was the baby of the trio, and was ready to join her other friends in being a fifteen-year-old. Janet had come up to her and asked what she wanted to do for her birthday. Carolyn meekly explained that a trampoline would be fun, maybe something in their backyard. Janet ran with it and was planning a party with a huge trampoline, lots of birthday cake, and even some karaoke. Janet asked Sallie and Vera if there was anyone else to bring to the party. There were a few other friends they had in mind, and Sallie asked if she could bring Lara, which was answered with an immediate yes.

The party was on a Friday afternoon, a few days after Carolyn’s actual birthday. The hoard of Brudowski teenagers and Carolyn all poured out of the older van and immediately heard ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas coming from the backyard. A huge smile broke out across Carolyn’s face, “Yes finally some pop music! No offense guys, but death metal is not really my favorite music genre.” Andrew and Vera chuckled slightly, and they all raced inside. Sallie, her parents, and Lara arrived at the house about an hour later. By about 5 p.m., the rest of Carolyn’s friends had arrived and the party was flowing smoothly. The trampoline Janet had rented was the biggest trampoline Carolyn had ever seen, it could hold 20 people, easily. The girls spent the majority of the evening bouncing on the trampoline, while Trixie and Brittany largely monopolized the karaoke machine. They even convinced Sam to sing ‘Baby Got Back’ by Sir Mix-A-Lot, and it was great to see him having so much fun and being so free.

By 8 p.m., the cake had been cut, and Carolyn’s huge adopted family had a great time shout-singing happy birthday. Jaret had sneakily switched the candles to trick candles, and everyone had a good laugh as Carolyn desperately tried to blow them out. Then Andrew licked his fingers and put out a candle, which almost gave Janet a heart attack. After seeing Andrew do it, all of the kids wanted to do it, but Brad put a stop to all that by quickly putting each of the trick candles out with his own fingers. The cake was rainbow on the inside, with a white frosting base and Carolyn’s name written out in beautiful script letters across the sheet cake. After cake, Carolyn, Sallie, Vera, and their other friends from school sang karaoke for the next hour. Vera was singing ‘Bad Romance’ by Lady Gaga, and her dance had Sallie rolling on the ground laughing. Carolyn looked lovingly at her friends, then walked back into the house to take a quick breather.

Carolyn walked into the sitting room, a room seldom used due to its lack of electronics. Honestly, it was Carolyn’s favorite room in the house. There was a beautiful painting that spanned the entire length of one of the walls, and the other wall had large windows looking out onto the front yard. The couches were beautiful as well; they looked like they were right out of the Victorian era. Carolyn sat on the couch that faced the wall full of windows and looked out into the dimming evening light.

“Hey. Are you okay?” An unexpectedly deep voice rang through the room, Carolyn turned around swiftly to see Adrian standing behind her.

“God you scared me!” Carolyn said, a little out of breath.

“Oh I’m sorry, I saw you come into the house and just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Adrian explained hurriedly.

Carolyn smiled, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. I just came in for a bit of quiet. I’m still getting used to how constant the noise is in this house. My old apartment was much quieter since it was usually just me and Sam.” Carolyn explained, her voice dropping slightly with the painful memory of what felt like a past life. Adrian sat next to Carolyn and rested his hand on hers.

“I can imagine that would be a big difference. It is true that this house doesn’t really stop.” Adrian said sweetly, with his hand still on hers. Carolyn was looking down at their hands, Adrian’s large hand completely enveloped her small hands. Carolyn’s heart rate sped up and she could feel her armpits starting to sweat. Carolyn turned her head and looked at Adrian’s face. Adrian was looking steadily at her, and when their eyes met, Carolyn’s heart leapt out of her chest. Adrian smiled and slightly closed his fingers around Carolyn’s hands.

“Wh--, umm, yeah, uhh, I guess this house doesn’t stop.” Carolyn chuckled nervously, then finally was able to put a sentence together, “I’m getting used to it, though.”

Adrian nodded, still maintaining eye contact, “That’s great. I’ve been trying to make sure I don’t make too much noise at night to keep you up. I can tell you Andrew and Jaret have also been better about their nighttime noise as well.” This caused Carolyn to blush a deep purple, recalling the conversation she had with Vera and Sallie a few months earlier.

“I, well, I’ve, I, umm, haven’t heard anything,” Carolyn stammered. She knew her face was completely red and was trying to calm herself down at this novel feeling, but the persistence of Adrian’s strong hand around her hands was not helping.

“Great. Just pound on the door if anyone ever is too loud at night. John used to drive me crazy with him sneaking girls in through his window at all hours of the night. When he moved out it felt like a calm had settled over the house.” Adrian laughed to himself, and Carolyn was in awe of how coolly he talked about this with her. Carolyn blushed even harder thinking about how John had had sex in the bed she slept in every night, probably a lot of sex, by the way Adrian was talking.

Carolyn squirmed a little, “Well I’ve never heard you sneak in a girl, so you’re doing a good job at keeping quiet.” Carolyn couldn’t stop herself from making her comment. She held her breath waiting for Adrian’s response.

“Hah. Well you won’t ever hear that from me, I would never make a girl have to sneak through my window. Plus, I wouldn’t want to betray my parents’ distrust like that either.” Adrian explained, with a look of slight vulnerability that Carolyn had never seen.

“Oh. That’s nice of you.” Carolyn quietly replied. After another moment, Carolyn shifted, “I’m going to go see what everyone is up to.” This conversation had felt like it had covered an eternity, but in reality it was only a couple minutes. Carolyn got up from the couch and tried her hardest not to sprint out of the room. She could not believe what had just happened. Why was Adrian being so nice to her? He had basically held her hand, which was a step that Carolyn had never even come close to. Then he kept talking about basically sex, which was just blowing her mind. The cherry on top was that she glanced behind her and saw Adrian trotting upstairs with his hands in his pockets.

Carolyn went back into the backyard to find Sallie now singing ‘Fireflies’ by Owl City. She was just finishing the song, and Sallie and Vera both called to Carolyn to come sing a song. Thankfully it was dark outside and the only lights were a few string lights surrounding the perimeter of the yard, so her friends couldn’t see how red her face was, still. Carolyn chose ‘My Life Would Suck Without You’ by Kelly Clarkson, which she so lovingly dedicated to her two best friends. About 10 minutes later, Carolyn saw Adrian come back to the backyard and began chatting with Andrew and Jaret, who were having a heated discussion on the current basketball season. Carolyn’s heart began pounding once again thinking of what had taken up 10 minutes of Adrian’s time.

After a few more songs, the friends from high school said goodbye, and the trio went back onto the trampoline. At this point in time, no one else was on the trampoline, so they laid down and just chatted. A few minutes later, the girls heard a collective low roar, with a few high-pitched screams and the pounding of footsteps. The girls propped themselves up and looked out to find the four boys and two girls running towards them. They all invaded the trampoline and started jumping around the girls. Sallie let out a quick squeal while Vera tried grabbing her brothers’ feet and pulling them down. Carolyn let out a quiet yell and tried to stand back up, but she kept being bounced back down. Carolyn turned to Vera’s tactic by grabbing feet and hands and trying to pull people down. She successfully pulled Sam down and tickled him until he begged her to stop. Then she grabbed Trixie and also successfully pulled her down. Carolyn reached out and blindly grabbed a hand, and pulled, but instead felt a strong grip around her hand pulling her up. She got to her feet and then the strong grip let go and allowed her to fall. She let out another yelp and looked up to see Adrian grinning down at her. Carolyn spun around and grabbed Adrian’s ankle; she yanked and was bounced up as Adrian crashed onto the trampoline. Adrian was laughing the whole time, then he turned his attention to Jaret and pulled him down. Soon enough, all the kids were on their backs laughing incessantly.

Janet and Brad came out to the trampoline and told Sam and Brittany that they needed to head to bed. At that, Adrian and Andrew gave their mother a kiss and went over to a friend’s house. Jaret went back inside to play video games. Trixie wanted to hang around, and the girls listened while she complained about how much 7th grade sucks. Eventually Trixie got tired and reluctantly went to bed. The three girls were left alone on the trampoline. They chatted about student council and how much of a popularity contest it all was. They discussed their teachers, which ones were the best and which ones were completely intolerable. Sallie talked about band, explaining that she got third to last chair, but the other people behind her were older than she is, so she was pretty happy about that. The conversations faded, and soon they heard faint snoring coming from Vera.

“We should bring her to bed.” Carolyn said. She and Sallie then shook Vera awake and they all went up to Vera’s room. They turned on the TV and all laid in Vera’s bed, with Carolyn in the middle. Vera promptly fell back asleep. Just as Sallie was drifting to sleep, she heard Carolyn quietly say, “Psst.”

“What is it Cara?” Sallie whispered, using a shortened version of her name not heard often.

“Something happened.” Carolyn whispered, barely audible.

“What do you mean?” Sallie propped herself up slightly, talking at a slightly louder volume.

“Shh. I don’t want Vera to hear.” Carolyn’s eyes widened and Sallie sank back down into the bed.

“Okay you’re freaking me out, what?!” Sallie whispered and grabbed Carolyn’s arm.

“Okay, I went inside for a minute to get a quick breather during the party.” Carolyn started, pausing.

“Oh that’s where you went! We thought you were pooping.” Sallie laughed as quietly as she could.

Carolyn smiled, “No, but anyways. I was sitting on the couch in the sitting room looking outside, collecting my thoughts. Then Adrian came in and asked if I was okay. Which was nice.” Carolyn kept pausing between sentences, but Sallie was completely captured and wouldn’t dare to interrupt. “Then he sat down next to me. And. He put his hand on mine, which was nice. I assumed he was just doing that to calm me down.” Sallie shook her head wildly. “And I was talking about how loud this house is and how it’s hard to get used to. Then Adrian was like ‘oh sorry, I’ve tried to be quieter since you got here, I hope I haven’t kept you up’” Carolyn paused.

“Oh my god like what Vera was talking about at my house after the first day of school?” Sallie whispered incredulously.

“I don’t know, but that’s what I was thinking too! Then I was like ‘no it’s fine, I haven’t heard anything’ – which is true, I actually haven’t heard any of the noise Vera was talking about.” Carolyn added, because she knew that would be Sallie’s next question. “And he was like ‘well when John was here he’d always bring girls in through his window and kept everyone up’ – like with sex. Oh and his hand is still on my hands. Not like holding hands or anything, but his fingers were clasped a little around mine!” Carolyn was getting a little out of breath, feeling her heart pounding once again as she recounted the story. “And I said ‘oh well I haven’t heard you when you’ve brought girls in, so you must be pretty quiet.’”

“Wait, you said that?” Sallie asked, even more incredulous than before, tightening her grip on Carolyn’s arm.

“I know, I couldn’t believe I said that but it just spilled out of my mouth!”

“Okay now I’m dying to know what he said!” Sallie was still whispering, but her excitement was palpable.

“Okay, get this – he was like ‘oh no, I don’t bring girls here like that, I would never do that to a girl.’” Carolyn paused.

“Wait so is that meaning like he hasn’t had sex or just like he would treat them better?” Sallie quickly asked.

“I don’t know, I have no idea.” Long pause. “Then afterwards I realized that it felt like we had been there forever and I really didn’t want someone to find us like that, so I got up and left.” Sallie loosened her grip and inhaled, getting ready to say something. “But then, I turned around and he was going upstairs. Like maybe he didn’t want to come out at the same time? Or maybe he had to go to the bathroom? But there was a bathroom right next to the sitting room.”

“Wait so you don’t think?” Sallie couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know, but I can tell you that he didn’t come back out to the backyard for another ten minutes.” Carolyn set down the heavy words that just sat in the air as Sallie reeled in. After a few moments, Sallie realized that Carolyn was done with her story.

“Okay what the hell was that? I am just flabbergasted. This is crazy. I don’t even understand! Like obviously all of Vera’s brothers are cute. But WOW. What does that even mean? Oh my gosh Vera cannot know about this. You cannot do anything with him! You know how crazy that would be? Vera would kill you! Plus, he’s a senior.” Sallie said all of this in basically one breath.

“Okay whoa slow down.” Carolyn tried to pull Sallie back in from where she was going, “Nothing is going to happen! It was just a weird moment and I knew you would understand the gravity of it. He was probably pooping anyways. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just never talk about this again.” Carolyn was thoroughly embarrassed thinking about Sallie’s comment of ‘doing anything with him’.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She could feel that Carolyn was about to shut down, “I’ll drop it, but if you ever need to talk to me about this, please do! And you have to tell me if anything else weird happens.”

“I will, but probably nothing will.” Carolyn confessed. Sallie quietly agreed, and the two girls quickly fell asleep.

Tags: @fierywords

#writeblr #original writing #young adult #new adult #WIC #writing #writblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writers #glass kaleidoscopes #fluff

2 notes · View notes

hetaliaindie · 6 years ago

Text

Going down memory lane

Just a little photo post.

June 9th 2017

I come back after more than a year, ready to try this out again.

I love how I'm always straight with ya guys in the tags yeesh.

July 4th 2017

The start of my first proper event, the Gandharva Event! (Though I've revised his design greatly ever since- there's no trace of Shiv in this anymore!!)

July 24th 2017

My first interaction with @grandparomeaskblog !!! When will I stop drawing your son in compromising situations-

August 28 2018

The very very first glimpse of Mr. G!

Also August 28

The day I started lowkey introducing the world to Shiv's 2500 year old crush.

September 1 2017

Young Shiv art!

September 9 2017

The most cursed artwork in this entire blog, thanks to aforementioned Grandpa Rome and Mr. Camel ( @de-beste-persian-empire)

September 16 2017

I think, this is the first sridevi we got on this blog. No introduction, nothing.

Same day and we have Sridevi being as demanding of sweets as she always is, and our lovely Aarya! @ask-ladylotus. The world deserves more india wamen.

September 21 2017

One of my favourite answers to date: Jugaad

September 24 2017

Gosh I don't like the art here at all, but here's the start of the lotus/god angst.

Same Day

The cutest darn Shiv ever. I hope I've kept this side of him alive.

Same Day

I think this is interesting because it seems that I was really fond of a more metaphorical approach to some questions and I'm still like that today: Jealousy

Same Day: Start of the God (dream) Event

September 30 2017

Yeah that's really what they looked like then.

October 5 2017

This may have happened nearly 2000 years ago but I do keep referencing it so here, boys and their issues.

October 24 2017

Same story, more details

October 26 2017

This is truly one of the most beautiful works I've made, and this is when I start getting very fond of this kind of storylike narrative, bright colours and literal metaphors.

November 3 2017

Jerks.

November 5 2017

Mr and Mrs. did have their casual pretend intimacy. Now she's alone but Mr. Gold has Zar. I hope we see her grow now that her fake love partner's dead and reborn.

December 19 2017

This is about when I fell in love with both of them tbh. Btw the baby was carefully delivered to an orphanage and quickly adopted by one of Mr. G's workers.

December 28 2017

The start of a legend. The Highschool AU. Would you believe me if I told you that Gypty and I still work on it casually or see various futures spawned from it?

January 15 2018 (Welcome to 2018 my good folks, we made it)

This isn't important content but artwise, It's when I really started pushing for dynamic stylistic choices for my art.

January 16 2018

You really really see it here, and also I start indulging more in patterns to brighten up the simplicity of everyday life. I'd also say this is where the general body differences are most exaggerated between them all (even with sridevi as a child).

January 22 2018

A comment on Arthur Kirkland.

January 23 2018

A memory of the Sack of Delhi. It may strain your eyes (unfortunately I can't say that was on purpose), but it's a tribute to a nation who's heart has been stamped on by circumstances that no one can predict, yet its spark still lights. From an art standpoint, I was very proud of the expression I felt I conveyed well in this panel.

January 28 2018

Listen the amount of research I put into giving you a culturally intriguing gag response-

February 2 2019

Mrs. Gold, I definitely improved a lot with colour usage here.

February 1 2018

This is where I have truly tried too hard on colours but I'm really warming up to it. (Oh nu is my icon that old- i'll get a new one soon I promise)

Please just take a moment, if you're someone who is an artist and is on a journey, to compare this piece with some of the earlier ones in this post. This improvement wasn't completely random. It started with looking for stylistic changes in the way I drew- in my case, really exaggerating the flowiness of my strokes and sharp points (messing around with a grittier brush, helped me a lot too, if you're someone who sticks with soft brushes or mechanical pencils, I couldn't recommend trying to use a textured brush or irl charcoal to get a grasp on the type of mood you want to evoke). At some stage it became a love story with color too, but colour takes time and lots of adjustment, which is why you won't see much of it in my blog.

March 5 2018

This is where I really start pushing the exaggeration on Mr. G, but only to get a feel for him. He evolved from a chunky nosed, physically imposing figure with a laughable quantity of gold, to something more desperate and dependant on money, something lean and mean with a nose that could poke an eye out. And here, most prominent is the shape of his lips, which had grown more prominent than before and very good for emphasizing his frown (and hell to work with when trying for his dimpled smile).

March 11 2018

I drew this for an rp starter since words couldn't describe what was in my head. I think it's a fine example of my adoration for patterns- but not just patterns, the idea of luxury beyond compare. It's prominent in my blog but only because I have the brain of a magpie and am constantly like ‘ooo shiny’. But really, I drew what I liked, so I improved. Find something you like drawing if you haven't yet. It can be skulls, it can be leaves, feathers, find your motifs and everything will honestly follow along.

May 17 2018

Post exam-hiatus, I am back with the gang, my art style is a bit rusty but boy have I got intimately involved with colours.

May 22 2018

I can't get colours out of my head, I'm thinking about them day and night, I need to create, I need to and so I do. (In all honesty I am certain that something greatly inspired me to do this but I cannot recall what).

June 12 2018

The Kill Cindy 2k18 movement is born. I can finally show you the Mr. G I have been hiding from you all.

July 1 2018

Something I can point out now is that while I think my colours work (honestly i was making use of patterns to distract you all at this stage- before I returned from my hiatus, I'd been rejected in an interview for an animation course and the key point my interviewer made was that my sense of colour was jarring, so I really was sensitive over it but seeking out improvement), what I would change is that adding a clear light source and allowing an atmosphere (by adjusting the main figures’ hues slightly to match the background) to emerge in my art would make it a lot better. And I start to grasp at this knowledge.

August 19 2018

The start of the bodyswap event, I swear I'll get back to it. I just want to use it as a stepping stone to get some meaningful character development out of it, thus it's ongoing.

See here, this is where I just stop caring about skin and character colour as something that should more or less be constant. Now it's vibrant and blinding for no other reason than I want to make you feel (granted, I did that too much here and it makes things hard to understand much less appreciate).

September 8 2018

Here I'm really just feeling the colours, Shiv's home is easy- everything is luxurious but at once welcoming (or at the very least, pampering), Sridevi's home on the other hand was shown to be neater and almost less personal, there isn't much immersion allowed in her place but in Shiv's..oh man.

November 2018

As you can see, activity has been dwindling what with rigorous college days and having moved to a new city. It should pick up eventually, but let me close this off with some new art.

Do I have something to say about this piece? Yes, I do! The point of view is Shiv's, thus the warm colours and the way he blends into the background. The main figure here is not himself or his 2nd player, but the vibrant peacocks, that exist in a shade of blue too vibrant to be real. In between the two sentient figures, is our young Mr. Gold, clearly he has the favour of these birds but he doesn't seem very affected by them- unlike the jealous Shiv. He's the dullest colour present and he wears the blandest clothing, the matters of peacocks (be they blue or orange) do not apply to him and he is at once alienated.

Today, November 14th 2018

So after everything, here we are. Is this what all my art was moving towards? No it isn't, it's really just me playing around with photoshop brushes, but the mood of this image is something I feel that I've conveyed with integrity. That's what I want to keep striving for. Thank you all for staying with this blog as long as you have, thank you to all my newer followers, I've linked most of these points to their original posts, I hope that Tumblr does not break them. Love you all!

#mun post #long post #some of the posts include triggering content such as #tw marital abuse #tw insects #and that's basically it #aph india

9 notes · View notes