#10 years of daydreaming leads to this tangle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 1 year

Note

Hey hey Lisaa!!💓 Hope you're having a great day!! Here I am with the promised angst prompt for Marvel's Eternals. It's a Druig x reader (I love him with makkari but this needs to be off my chest). Let's think that after some time of leading his community in the Amazon, Druig needed a break so he visited some place new where he met reader. Reader (around 20-21 years of age) and Druig fell in love and stayed together for about I don't know, maybe 5 years or so. Reader knew who he really was, but had no idea of the existence of his community. Druig left one morning without any words and never came back. It ruined reader, but eventually they moved on, found someone else, maybe even had a kid.

After 10-15 years (the timeline of reader's life, them moving on and so), Druig comes back as if nothing happened. He went to check things over in the Amazon and to prepare for reader's arrival, cause he planned to take them there. Being an eternal, 10-15 years mean nothing to him, it's like a month passed by. So, imagine his shock when he sees somebody kissing reader. Somebody who lives in their house. In his place.

Reader and Druig have a fight based on these prompts:

"I've moved on."

"I used to daydream about us. But now it's too late."

"Don't you want to know what could have been? If you had asked me this years ago, I would have said yes."

The ending as usual it's up to you, but these prompts kinda make the ending clear. It's not going to be happy:))) Tear my soul apart Lisa. I want to cry my eyes out. Thank you lovely!!! Remember to change what you don't like!!❤️❤️

omg i love eternals and i love angst. the perfect combination

masterlist

You are alone when you see him for the first time. Sitting there in the bending shadows of the trees, he looks like he could be a young man, about your age if not a month or two older. Later, you’ll learn that he’s far beyond your own mortal lifespan, but at that first moment of contact, you had no idea. You didn’t know a lot of things about the young man in the forest, least of all how much you would grow to know about him. Decades in the future, if you had been presented with the chance to change any moment in your life, you would think about altering this day the most.

You have no idea of how much he would haunt you, though, so on this particular afternoon, you do not heed the whispering in the woods and you draw closer to the young man. You’d been passing through the forest when you’d seen him. He had tripped over a tree root, then started glowering at the tangled mass of aged wood as if he hadn’t expected it there. This particular oak is one of the eldest growths in the area, but he still furrowed his brow like it had been moved there recently just to spite him.

You had paused by him as you passed. You had thought to offer him a hand up, but the immediate spark in his blue eyes warned you otherwise. This is not the sort of man who takes kindly to kindness. He’ll cut to the bone when he needs some entertainment, and you are certainly not to ruin him of his fun by being polite of all things.

So you retract your hand and your good intentions, choosing instead to offer him a smirking sort of smile. “Everything alright there?”

The man redirects his glare from the offending oak to you. “Just peachy. I always chose to spend my evenings on the ground as opposed to anywhere else.”

Far from taking insult at his tone, you find it within yourself to laugh. “Figured I’d check anyway. Newcomers to the area get lost often, do you need directions?”

The young man bristles even more than before, if possible. “I’m not a newcomer.”

He says it with all the irritation he can pack into the few short syllables. From the way he carries himself, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been here longer than you. Maybe longer than anyone, dead, alive, or otherwise.

You nod once, feigning solemnity. “Alright, then. You tripped on purpose and you’re lost on purpose, too. I’ll stop asking questions.”

Something almost like a smile appears on his face. The corners of lips are fighting a losing battle to stay pinned down. “Good. You’re a quick learner, I appreciate that.”

You take one for the team and grin. “Oh, I pride myself on it.”

The young man picks himself up from the ground at last, brushing his hands off on his navy attire.

You jerk your chin towards the direction you’re heading. “Coming?”

He cocks his head to the side, curious, and you explain yourself. “I assume you’re going to be following me out of the forest anyway. You might as well save yourself the trouble of trying to skulk along in the background and just join me.”

This time he does smile for real. “Like I said,” he muses, “a quick learner indeed. Although I have to tell you that skulking is one of my favorite activities.”

“Feel free to do so if you please, then,” you say, “either way is fine with me.”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ll stay.”

And he does. The young man follows you out of the shadows of the woods and into the bright air of the surrounding town. He walks by your side until you reach your house, then heads inside when you invite him in. He stays the night, then the next day, then the next. Soon enough, you don’t ever want him to leave.

You learn quite a bit about him. He goes by the name of Druig, although he’s responded to many others before and likely will again. You weren’t wrong about the vibe you got in the forest, the one that he’d been here quite a long time. As it turns out, Druig was stopping by your town for a quick break from his usual life. He’d been here before, yes, but about a couple centuries earlier, not the few years you’d been expecting.

You weren’t anticipating an immortal to become your new roommate, but you can’t say you mind. You and Druig exchange quick retorts and hidden smiles like playing cards. He soon becomes your favorite gamble, and you have long since been his. Every night, Druig says that he’ll be leaving the next morning, and every morning, he stays. Next time, he swears he’ll go. Next time. Always one more night.

Soon enough, he stops saying it completely. You certainly have no issue with it. He’s growing on you, you can admit that easily. He makes you feel like you’re the greatest person in the world, and seeing as Druig has seen quite a bit of the planet for quite some time, the fact that he stays with you time and time again has to mean something.

It feels completely predictable when you finally fall in love with him. Druig sees you like no one else, how could you not love him? The surprise was when he fell in love with you. A thousand lifetimes he has led, a million people and more he has met, and throughout all of that, he wants you more than any other. Druig swears that you are the only one for him, and although it seemed impossible at the beginning, you finally think that it might be true.

It just feels right, that’s all. This is the way your story was always supposed to go. It was written in the stars from the moment you met him in that forest. There was no other path that you could have taken, no other choice that you could have made. In any other lifetime or universe, you would always meet Druig, you would always fall in love with him, and he would always leave you.

That is what happens when you try to convince an Eternal to lay aside their old life, after all. Druig only came to your town by accident, looking for a passing whimsy to fill his time. He hadn’t intended on finding you, but he did. He loved what he discovered in you enough to stay for five years or so, and when that time was up, Druig looked around and realized that he had a thousand other things he’d rather be doing and abandoned you.

That’s what you think, at least. In truth, you have nothing to fill your mind but endless theories. When it comes down to it, Druig gave you no sort of explanation, nothing even so solid as a goodbye. One night he was there, the next he was gone. It was just like those promises of your initial months, but this time it was real and this time you didn’t even have that familiar phrase to remind you that this was never permanent.

Some part of you had always known that your relationship with Druig would be nothing if not temporary, but the painful truth is that it was so wonderful to love him that you managed to convince yourself otherwise. He made it easy to forget he ever wanted to do anything but love you. If you fell for it, well, that’s on you. Druig made his choice, and at long last, you’re going to have to say yours.

One day after he leaves, maybe weeks or months or even years later, you walk to the forest where you met him. You can still find that old oak, and when you look up at it, you curse it for tripping him up and making him fall into your path. You could have walked right by and never hurt yourself this much. What a life you could have led.

At the same time, meeting Druig was one of the best things you ever did. He changed you forever, even if you don’t want to admit it. You are different now, different in a way that you will never be able to reverse. Some days, you’ll curse that, but you think overall you’ll be able to accept it.

You breathe in and out slowly, then turn around and walk back to your town. Druig has left in the middle of the story, but you’re taking yourself out too. Your time with him is done, your memories complete in the past. What’s done is done, and at last, you are free of his hold on you.

…

Druig feels excited to come back. He had a dream a while ago in which his life was not just good but great. It took him a while to figure out what he could change to chase that perfection, and then it hit him. Sometimes, humans can be a little too unpredictable. They don’t go where you want them to go, they argue and fight when they could just be calm.

That’s why he’s made his community in the Amazon. It’s quieter there. The people get along. He sees to it that they do. The environment is beautiful around them, and everyone does their best to help it grow. It is the perfect place for anyone to live. It is the perfect place to start a family.

Druig has never been sure of love in the past. After much careful consideration, though, he thinks he’s found it in Y/N L/N. He didn’t count on her being such an important part of his life, but yes, she is now. He’s been fixing up his place in the Amazon and it’s finally ready. All that is left to do is to bring her over.

He takes the long way around to her corner of the earth, breathing in the brisk air of the sea and thinking of her. It is nothing to take his time; time is all that he has ever known. What he did not count on is that she might not have the same grasp on the quickly passing years as he does.

When Druig arrives at the town, he has to take a minute or two to re-orient himself. Streets have sprung up out of nowhere, buildings have been demolished or improved until they’re almost nothing like what he remembers. Y/N doesn’t live in the same place as she used to, but after asking around, Druig is able to locate her new residence without difficulty. He feels mildly peeved that she hadn’t told him she was moving, but then again, he can admit that there would be no real way for her to let him know.

He springs up the steps to her house, knocking smartly on the door before rocking back on his heels and waiting. She takes her time in approaching, and when she swings open the door at last, she has to use the better part of five minutes to collect herself.

“Druig,” she manages to breathe at last.

He nods. He’s smiling again; he usually doesn’t, but something about her has always made him lose that bit of his self-control.

“Y/N,” he replies.

They’ve always been happy to poke fun at each other, so he’s expecting her to laugh along at him mirroring her words, but for some reason Y/N just looks shell-shocked.

“What are you doing?” She asks at last.

Druig frowns. Admittedly, he had been hoping that she’d be at least a little bit happier to see him. He’s gone to all this trouble of fixing up the Amazon for her, she might as well be pleased about it.

“I’ve been busy making a place for us to live,” he says, “how soon can you leave?”

Y/N looks even more stunned, if possible. “Leave? What are you talking about?”

Druig spreads his hands. “We talked about having a life somewhere else, remember? Somewhere exciting. Well, I’ve found it. You shouldn’t have to pack much, I have everything we could need.”

Y/N shakes her head slowly. “Druig, I can’t leave. Not with–”

She cuts herself off quickly, but Druig hears what she didn’t say. Not with you.

He doesn’t like where this is going. “Why not?”

Y/N lets out this incredulous sort of laugh. “Why not? Druig, you were gone fifteen years. You can’t just show up out of nowhere and expect me to go with you.”

Druig lifts a shoulder. “It was only fifteen years.”

That’s not much, all things considered, but from the way Y/N’s staring at him, he could have stayed away fifteen centuries.

She takes a moment to control herself, then continues. “Look, I can’t go with you. I’ve moved on.”

Druig feels as if the world has turned upside down. “You’ve what? You didn’t wait for me?”

“I did,” Y/N murmurs, “I did for years and years, but you never showed up. I used to daydream about the day you’d show up again and take me away from everything, but it’s too late now.”

Druig has spent century after century studying humanity, but he feels as if he can’t understand a thing she’s saying. “I don’t get it. I’m here right now. We could go.”

She presses her hands together, trying to find the right words to say to adequately make up for everything. “Do you know the worst part? Worse than the fact that you’ll never get why I can’t go with you. I would have, if you had just told me that this was your plan. If you had asked me this years ago, I would have said yes. I would have said yes a thousand times, but you left and never came back until now.”

“What’s stopping you?” He asks desperately.

Y/N holds up her left hand as an explanation, and suddenly Druig sees it. She’s got an engagement ring on her finger. Immediately, Druig wants to say that it’s the wrong ring. He would have given her a better stone, something perfect. It hits him then that she doesn’t want perfection, because perfection was him and he left. All Y/N wants is to be happy, but that is not Druig. Perhaps it never has been.

He lets out a tired sigh, the weight of millennia pressing in at his lungs. “The Y/N I used to know would have waited. What happened to her?”

“I was a girl when you left me,” Y/N hisses, “a girl, and I thought the world of you. I am nothing like the girl you left. You’re the only one who hasn’t changed, Druig. You’re still just as sharp as ever.”

Druig doesn’t miss how she spits out that last word. Sharp, yes, that’s him. Cold and cutting, the blade that refuses to rust. He never minded it before, but now he does. Oh, he does.

The older parts of his brain are taking over now, forcing him back into autopilot. Already, his spine is stiffening, the last parts of him that had dared to feel something locking back into endless nothingness.

“I’ll go, then,” he whispers, “I hope you enjoy your life.”

He says it genuinely, but judging from the look on Y/N’s face, he might as well have sworn at her. Druig turns around before she can say anything to cause him more grief, and forces himself to never look back. A thousand thoughts are spinning around in his head, and when he looks up, he’s in the forest where they first met.

Or, he’s in the place that used to be the forest. Most of it has been cleared away to make space for new housing. A few straggling saplings still remain, but everything else is empty space. Druig walks until he is in the exact same place where he first found the girl he loves. The tree has been cut down. All he gave her is gone.

He does not know how long he stays there. It’s a penance of sorts, a reminder of what he’s lost. He was never made for this sort of life– mortal, fleeting, requiring all of his time and attention– and this just reminds him of it once and for all. What they had together has vanished, disappeared beneath the folds of time. It’s not her story anymore, just his. His forever.

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43

96 notes · View notes

thegirlzkpop · 1 year

Text

˗ˏˋ BASICS ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ stage name. iseul

˗ˏˋ birth name. park iseul

……❪ 박이슬 ❫

……❪ MEANING. the surname 'park' is reported to be based off of geographical locational. the name 'iseul' meaning morning dew ❫

˗ˏˋ nickname. izzy ❪ by members and fans ❫, main character ❪ by fans ❫ sully ❪ by members ❫, the nations barbie ❪ by fans ❫ goddess iseul ❪ by members and fans ❫

˗ˏˋ birthday. may 4, 2000

˗ˏˋ zodiac sign. taurus

˗ˏˋ birth place. sejong, south korea

˗ˏˋ hometown. sejong, south korea

˗ˏˋ current residency. seoul, south korea

˗ˏˋ ethnicity. korean

˗ˏˋ nationality. korean

˗ˏˋ languages. korean ❪ native ❫, english ❪ basic ❫, japanese ❪ fluent ❫

˗ˏˋ PERSONALITY ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ mbti. infp-a ❪ mediator ❫

˗ˏˋ description. infps can often be seen as quiet or shy, but they are very passionate and creative souls. they are often fueled by creativity and care. they are daydreamers, often losing themselves in thought. they are empathetic and caring people and take great care of their relationships with others. this personality type is very sincere and are open to those who need some care and attention. mediators are often poetic and speak their own truths, having self-expression. their imaginations and love for others are strong.

˗ˏˋ strengths. empathetic, generous, caring, creative, poetic,idealistic, passionate, open-minded, heart-warming

˗ˏˋ weaknesses. unrealistic, self-isolating, introverted, vulnerable, people pleaser, self critical, sensitive

˗ˏˋ habits. messing with jewely, running hands through hairs, happy dancing, hugging her members, talking fast

˗ˏˋ phobias. deep water ❪ thalassophobia, severe ❫, snake ❪ ophidiophobia, moderate ❫, fireworks ❪ phonophobia, mild ❫

˗ˏˋ CAREER ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ occupation. kpop idol

˗ˏˋ labels. jyp entertainment ❪ 2016-2018 ❫ cre.ker entertainment ❪ 2018-2021 ❫, ist entertainment ❪ 2021-present ❫, kakao m; formerly loen ent ❪ 2018-present ❫, universal music ❪ 2022-present ❫

˗ˏˋ training time. 2016-2019, 3 year and 0 months

˗ˏˋ debut. december 7, 2019

……❪ age; 19 ❫

˗ˏˋ positions. visual, lead dancer, lead vocal

˗ˏˋ known for. body proportions, dancing, funny quotes, visuals

˗ˏˋ representative number. 12

……❪ she chose 12 because they debuted on the 12th month of the year ❫

˗ˏˋ designed color. barbie pink

˗ˏˋ rankings.

……❪ singing. 8/10 ❫

……❪ dancing. 8/10 ❫

……❪ rapping. 7/10 ❫

……❪ acting. 8/10 ❫

……❪ modeling. 10/10 ❫

……❪ songwriting. 9/10 ❫

……❪ composing. 5/10 ❫

……❪ choreographing. 5/10 ❫

……❪ speeches. 6/10 ❫

˗ˏˋ FAMILY ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ mom. n/a ❪ 1980 ❫

˗ˏˋ dad. n/a ❪ 1977 ❫

˗ˏˋ siblings. n/a

˗ˏˋ pets. bobi ❪ grey cat, 2021-present ❫

˗ˏˋ notable family. n/a

˗ˏˋ PHYSICAL ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ height. 167 cm ❪ 5'6'' ❫

˗ˏˋ weight. 49 kg ❪ 110 lbs ❫

˗ˏˋ blood type. A-

˗ˏˋ hair color. brown

˗ˏˋ eye color. dark brown

˗ˏˋ body modifications. 4 piercings, 0 tattoo

˗ˏˋ face claim. yuna ❪ itzy ❫

˗ˏˋ vocal claim. yuna ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

˗ˏˋ voice claim. yuna ❪ itzy ❫

˗ˏˋ dance claim. yuna ❪ itzy ❫

˗ˏˋ INTERESTS ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ likes. ribs, sparkly things, stuffed animals, fashion, movies over books, cupcakes, sweets, salad, carrots, getting her nails done, online shopping, interior decoration, show drama; reality tv, comedies, cute animals, new friends, coffee dates, paris, fancy things, chanel, driving

˗ˏˋ dislikes. super spicy things, scary movies, men, fake people, school, math, people that act like they're better than everyone else, cherries, loud noises, waking up early, farm smells, working out

˗ˏˋ favorites.

……❪ movies. the notebook ❪ 2004 ❫, on your wedding day ❪ 2018 ❫, la la land ❪ 2016 ❫ tangled ❪ 2010 ❫ grease ❪ 1978 ❫, moana ❪ 2016 ❫ ❫

……❪ shows. extra curricular ❪ 2020 ❫, crash landing on you ❪ 2019 ❫, nevertheless ❪ 2021 ❫, start up ❪ 2020 ❫, snowdrop ❪ 2021 ❫ ❫

……❪ colors. white and gold ❫

……❪ food. galbi; grilled ribs, cupcakes, salad, carrots. ❫

……❪ drinks. tea and water ❫

……❪ books. she doesn't read much but she likes the silent patient ❫

……❪ emojis. 🤍🤓 ❫

……❪ musical artists. shawn mendes, blackpink; jisoo stan, red velvet, 2ne1, taylor swift, seventeen ❫

……❪ songs. lost in japan ❪ shawn mendes ❫, all eyes on me ❪ jisoo ❫, say my name ❪ ateez ❫, enchanted ❪ taylor swift ❫, cruel summer ❪ taylor swift ❫ ❫

˗ˏˋ TRIVIA ´ˎ˗

……❪ she is a big jisoo fan and says that she is her inspiration ❫

……❪ she likes watching movies with her members, she has trouble focusing on movies by herself though ❫

……❪ her original representative color was grey but she changed it to pink after she dyed her hair blonde because people kept calling her barbie ❫

……❪ she enjoys eating junk food but limits herself well ❫

……❪ she wanted to do gymnastics when she was younger but she lost interest after a week ❫

……❪ she's an only child so she says she's spoiled ❫

……❪ her mom is a chef at a popular restaurant and her dad is a head nurse ❫

……❪ she is close friends with many jyp idols and trainees because of her training time there, even though her time there was short ❫

……❪ she will often go to pet stores just to pet cute animals ❫

……❪ her dad and her have a very strong relationship and even though he was skeptical about her idol life he was supportive all the way, she said her mom was also supportive but would always beg for her to come home and continue her studying. ❫

……❪ she can eat a lot of food and still stay fit because she works out a lot even though she hates it ❫

……❪ she grew up playing volleyball and was the best in her school up until she became a trainee ❫

#❛ ━━･❪ THE GIRLZ ⇢ profilez. ❫･━━ ❜#❛ ━━･❪ THE GIRLZ ⇢ iseul. ❫･━━ ❜#kpop group #kpop oc #fictional kpop idol #kpopidol #kpop #the boyz oc #kpop oc gg #fictional idol oc #idol oc #fictional idol community #kpop added member #kpop addition #the boyz added member #the boyz addition #the girlz #the boyz sub unit

10 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, So we'll know where you are -- Gleaming in the skies above, Lead me to the one who loves me...”

~“The Second Star to the Right (cover),” by Simone

x~x~x~x

HEY PETER PAN ANON! I MADE YOU SOMETHING!! 8D

Hahaha, yes! This is Peter-Pan!Orion and Wendy!Carewyn (Carewyndy?). No, I won’t be writing this AU before the Tangled AU at least (and yes, I should have that up hopefully by next week)...but I couldn’t resist doodling these and talking a bit about the daydreaming I did based on this concept. Orion’s ripped pants were kind of based on how the pants are ripped in the 2003 Peter Pan’s costume, but I just couldn’t resist giving him his canon fingerless armwarmers. (I see them being forest green just like his pants, though, while his tunic is a light tan.)

Basically I see eternally 12-1/2-year old Orion Amari taking a strong liking to 10-year-old Carewyn Cromwell when she comes to Neverland. Even though she does act a bit too grown-up sometimes, it’s largely because of how deeply she feels for other people -- she’s determined to protect others, whether from bullying or actual danger, and she hates the thought of anyone feeling alone. She actually is the only person who’s ever asked Orion if he was lonely, being the only child who was destined to never grow up. And as much as Orion will airily state that “to die would be an awfully big adventure,” he finds that it’s Carewyn who believes this most, for the idea of growing older doesn’t frighten her the way it does her grandfather, the man now called Captain Hook. If anything, what makes her saddest about leaving Neverland is not for her sake, but for Orion’s -- she, Jacob, Charlie, and Bill were all going home to London, along with a good chunk of Orion’s friends among the Lost Kids...and Carewyn hated the thought that she’d never see her friend Orion again. So she reminded Orion that she would always have her window open at night, if he ever wanted to come and visit, hear her read a story or two, or even just listen to her singing while she did her evening chores. Sensing Orion’s hesitance, she reassured him that she’d never forget him.

Orion proceeded to return to life in Neverland, embarking on those same old adventures that make the days blur and make it easy to forget things. Forgetting was part of Neverland’s magic -- even Bill had almost forgotten he had a new baby sister back in London, when he, Charlie, and Carewyn had been there with Orion and the Lost Kids. But, as Orion would often tell himself, adults forgot things in the other world too: they forgot the joys of childhood, they forgot the freedom and the simple pleasures and the bottomless daydreams. All of them, every last one of them, eventually forgot how to fly.

But perhaps because of Carewyn’s final promise, every time Orion thought of how easy it was to forget things in Neverland, and therefore how easy it was to forget things outside of it, Carewyn’s face and words always returned to his mind. And so, the memory of her conviction and caring never strayed too far from his mind...and with it, other thoughts would crop up too. How stable things had been, when Carewyn was around. How well she understood him and how easy it was to talk to her and trust in her. And it was then that Orion realized that he really, truly missed Carewyn. It was a feeling he’d never really experienced that deeply before, not even for the other children who had eventually returned home to their families. Even Bill and Charlie, who Orion likewise grew reasonably fond of, didn’t make him feel like his stomach was always empty, no matter how much food he ate -- like his heart was scraping at the inside of his chest like a hungry animal desperate to devour something outside its cage. And that feeling only intensified when his fairy guardian Merula would try to urge him to go challenge Torvus and the centaurs to a race or splash around with the mermaids, even when Orion wasn’t in the mood to do so.

Orion felt restless, unsure of quite what was wrong with him and not knowing how to explain his muddled thought process to McNully and his remaining Lost Kids. One day Orion was eventually persuaded by McNully to lead an expedition to find a lost chest of pirate treasure, and for a short while, the Boy Who Never Grew Up was simply able to enjoy pulling one over on his old enemy and sharing the loot with his gang. That changed, though, when Captain Hook crashed the party.

Orion and Hook traded as many blows as ever, throwing insults at each other like they always did -- but this day, Hook said one barbed phrase that stuck in Orion’s ear more than he ever would’ve admitted.

“Already forgotten my dear Winnie, I see. But I guess I can’t be surprised. After all, the only thing that can break through Neverland’s curse -- that thing that makes everyone forget...is love. And you -- ha -- you don’t know anything about that, do you, boy?”

Love. Yes. That was the thing that made Carewyn remember her lost brother and mother, even while she was a Lost Girl. That was the thing that had made Charlie remember his parents, even after he’d forgotten London altogether. That was the thing that made Bill remember his other siblings, once he remembered how his baby sister Ginny would always cry after her afternoon nap until he came home from his newspaper route and bounced her up and down for a minute or two. That was the thing that had made Jacob remember his little sister in London, even after he was kidnapped by Hook and commandeered into piracy. And, Orion realized, it was the thing that he missed most about Carewyn -- her ability to love more deeply than anyone else he had ever known...like a mother would, and yet like an equal...a companion, more than just someone to go on adventures with.

Orion tried to broach this topic with Merula, but the huffy little fairy put up her walls and stubbornly refused to let them down. Feelings were grown-up things, and Orion didn’t need grown-up things! Orion wanted to agree, but the feelings he felt were becoming heavy -- so heavy, in fact, that he found it harder for him to find his center, to think thoughts happy enough that he could fly to any height he wanted. He actually found himself hovering and floating more than flying...and this troubled him. It made him more anxious than he could remember ever being.

Then the thought struck him -- why didn’t he just go and visit Carewyn? She said he could, whenever he wanted. She could tell him some stories and sing some songs for him -- maybe she could even sew him a new pocket for his shirt! These thoughts perked Orion up a bit, and he decided to leave for London straightaway.

He hadn’t expected it to be so cold -- for you see, in Neverland, it’s every season all year ‘round, all except winter. It was a fact Carewyn had lamented, for winter was her favorite season. She loved the Christmas holidays and how everyone would gather around the fireplace with warm food together and sing Christmas songs and tell stories. It had actually sounded kind of nice to Orion, when she described it to him and the Lost Kids -- but on this day in London, Orion didn’t think the cold was so nice, nor the gray, dreary city itself. There were buildings that had been crushed and holes in cobblestone streets, made by bombs that had been dropped by German Zeppelins, and just about nobody raised their heads enough to look skyward. The adults prowling the streets were just as lacking of joy as Orion had always imagined them to be, yet it wasn’t due to stupid grown-up things like wearing a tie to work or paying bills. Instead there was exhaustion, sadness...pain. Orion hated these people’s wrinkles even more than the ones he’d see on the pirates’ faces, from dwelling on mindless things like how much treasure they had or what their daily duties were.

But none of that mattered, of course. What mattered was seeing Carewyn. But alas, when Orion arrived at the Weasleys’ house, it was still daytime...and the window to the room Carewyn, Bill, and Charlie once shared was locked.

Orion rattled at the window desperately, slapping the glass and pulling at its handles as he cried her name. All logic left his mind -- his breathing became raspier and weaker even as he shouted louder.

She had to be there -- she had to be there -- she couldn’t have forgotten -- she wouldn’t have forgotten -- she promised -- she promised she wouldn’t forget him -- love was what kept someone from forgetting -- Carewyn knew love better than anyone -- she loved her brother -- she loved the Weasleys -- she loved the Lost Kids and Torvus and the mermaids and the fairies -- she loved Orion -- didn’t she love -- ?

As Orion’s anxiety spiked, the magic of Merula’s fairy dust began to abandon him. He found himself becoming heavier. He tried to cling onto the windowsill, pulling at and smacking the window, but it wasn’t wide enough for him to hold onto while it was closed. Soon enough he found himself falling slowly, like someone drifting down to the bottom of a pool...and when he landed on the ground, he landed on his knees, shaking. He clasped his hands together, his eyes wide and hollow upon the frosty ground as wintry condensation fell from his panting lips.

He’d lost his happy thought. He’d lost it.

He tried to fly. He tried desperately to fly, only to fall and scrape his knees and hands. Never in his life had Orion Amari ever been so frightened, shuddering from head to toe in the freezing cold.

He shakily got to his bare feet and, barely knowing where he was going, he walked. He wandered aimlessly, his eyes glassing over as he gasped for air, searching every revolted and anxious face that he passed as the faces’ owners cringed at the state of his long hair, ripped clothes, and lack of shoes.

Orion wandered for what felt like hours, until at long last, as if by fate, he ended up not far away from a Church-funded school, which taught both elementary and higher-elementary-level students. One of those such students was a girl with a ginger braid and almond-shaped blue eyes, walking home with several classmates, including a black-haired girl with glasses carrying a bunch of books, a rather pretty blonde with pigtail braids, and a rather cowardly-looking boy with blond hair, brown eyes, and a very thick sweater and mittens over his Church-provided uniform. The ginger-haired girl herself was wrapped up in a rather thick old dark blue blanket she’d turned into a shawl after it got ripped and had been holding it tightly around herself when, all of a sudden, she heard her name being cried by a misty, and yet anxious voice.

“Carewyn! Carewyn...!”

One can only imagine what Carewyn’s school friends Rowan Khanna, Penny Haywood, and Ben Copper thought, seeing such a scrawny, ragamuffin street boy running toward their friend. Rowan actually tried to step in front of Carewyn as if to protect her, while Ben made as if to cling onto Carewyn’s arm in terror. But Carewyn herself, her eyes very wide upon the boy, immediately tore away from both Rowan and Ben and ran to Orion without a single shred of hesitation.

“Orion?!”

She barreled over, whipping the shawl off her shoulders and wrapping it around his instead.

“Orion, what are you doing here?! You’re going to catch a death of cold!”

Orion hadn’t been able to stop shaking for an instant, but her shouting his name, rushing to take care of him -- her remembering him -- it made his heart feel like a beast craving food again. Her concern wet his appetite. He wanted it. He wanted her caring. He wanted her love...

She was as tall as him. She’d been so tiny before...

“Carewyn...you know this boy?” asked Rowan, looking bewildered.

“Yes,” said Carewyn, glancing over her shoulder, “he’s a friend. Rowan, this is Orion. Orion, this is -- ”

“You’ve...grown older,” Orion’s absent mumble cut her off.

Carewyn fixed him with a faintly reproachful look. “I’m afraid that does happen, in the span of three years...”

Thirteen. She was thirteen. ...She was older than him.

Carewyn’s eyes welled up with concern as she looked Orion over. She turned to her friends quickly.

“...I’d better get him inside and warm...I’ll see you all tomorrow, okay?”

She quickly bid her friends goodbye, before wrapping an arm tightly around Orion’s shoulders as best she could, rubbing his arm through her shawl in an attempt to warm him.

“Orion, what were you thinking?” she whispered, her voice full of concern as her eyes stayed locked ahead at their path. “Coming here in broad daylight, in this cold...”

Orion had started to shake again, his hands clasping more tightly.

“Your window was shut,” he mumbled.

Carewyn looked very upset. “...My old window, you mean? The one I shared with Bill and Charlie? Oh, Orion, I don’t share a room with Bill and Charlie anymore -- I share with Ginny now. Girls’ room, you know. Charlie and Percy actually share that room now...Bill’s sharing a flat with several other boys, closer to the newspaper’s headquarters in the East End...”

Her eyes rippled with pain.

“...Ginny’s and my room doesn’t have a window,” she explained. “I’ve told Charlie and Percy to keep their window open for me, but...well, Percy’s grown up way too fast. He must have closed it to block out the air raid sirens last night and forgotten to reopen it...”

Orion didn’t understand half of what Carewyn was saying, but the tone she spoke with held such reassurance and remorse that it soothed the racing anxiety that had so paralyzed him. He closed his eyes as the adrenaline his anxiety had built up ebbed away, leaving him oddly drained and colder than ever. He was so out of it that he barely seemed to acknowledge that his head flopped down onto her shoulder.

“Orion?” said Carewyn, startled and worried.

But Orion merely inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her caring fed that beast in his chest. He wanted a bit more.

“Carewyn,” he murmured, “did...did you think of me?”

He felt Carewyn adjust her arm around him.

“Of course I did,” she said softly. “I told you I would never forget you.”

The tenseness in Orion’s clasped hands and face loosened its grasp. “...Because you love me.”

Carewyn looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “What?”

But Orion barely reacted -- as if he didn’t think what he’d said was the least bit weird.

“There’s only one thing that can prevent someone from forgetting...and that’s love. For once you love someone, your heart never really forgets them. Instead they become part of you...an indispensable piece...that would make you feel incomplete, if it was ever removed.”

Orion slowly opened his eyes, his lips spreading into a small, rather soft smile that made him look a bit more like his usual self.

“...It’s what helped you remember your brother and the Weasleys, while you were with me...and your brother remember you, while he was with Hook,” he said. “It’s something I know nothing about...but I know you know it very well.”

Carewyn considered him for a moment, before returning her gaze back to the road. Plenty of people passing by gave her and Orion the side-eye, but she didn’t care.

“I don’t know if I’d say you know nothing about it,” she said at last. “You remembered me just as much as I remembered you, did you not?”

Orion’s smile faded from his lips as his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Then his expression slowly relaxed.

“...Perhaps...”

His black eyes trailed over her arm around his shoulders and her hand rubbing up and down his arm hesitantly. His arm beside her chest twitched slightly -- then, very, very tentatively, he tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders in return. It was a bit awkward, with the shawl wrapped around him...but once Carewyn sussed out what he was doing, she adjusted enough to give the shawl enough slack that he could successfully hold her in return. Once he had gotten his arm around her, he seemed oddly proud of himself, his smile spreading and his eyes closing again as he leaned into her, his head beside hers on her shoulder.

They stayed that way for several blocks, walking in silence and simply enjoying each others’ company. Orion felt his center of balance returning to him. It was like having this stable place, with his arms wrapped around Carewyn’s shoulders and hers around his, was the earth he needed under his feet to launch himself back up into the air. He felt like he might even be able to fly again at some point...maybe not yet, but soon. Time always moved more slowly in Neverland than in London anyhow, so no one would mind if he took his time...

“...Carewyn?”

“Hmm?”

“I...don’t know if I can make it back to Neverland,” he confessed.

Carewyn looked at him, her eyes once again flooding with concern.

“I fell, when I failed to open your window,” Orion explained. “I’ve only ever fallen like that once before...when...”

“...When Grandfather made you think unhappy thoughts,” Carewyn finished grimly. She turned away from him, facing the road again.

Orion nodded. His black eyes flickered across her face, even though she was no longer looking at him.

Hook had taunted him then that Carewyn had no reason to stay in Neverland -- that she preferred the thought of growing old and dying to staying with him -- that he could never meet her high standards. He’d taunted that one day, Orion would go back to find her window locked and barred -- a grown woman who’s forgotten all about him, about Neverland, about how to fly...who’s replaced all of it with adult things Orion could never understand. Ambition. Family. ...Husband.

Carewyn wasn’t an adult yet, but she certainly wasn’t a child anymore either. There was a practicality to her posture -- a steadiness and gravity to how she walked. There was a neatness and meticulousness in how she handled her appearance. And yet even so, her hands were still so warm and her eyes were still so soft...and the sincerity in the little wrinkles that creased her brow and eyes and kissed at the corners of her lips was just the same.

Carewyn raised her head in Orion’s direction, but her eyes couldn’t quite reach his. Instead they landed vaguely on his shoulder.

“...I never told you...Grandfather was wrong, did I?” she asked quietly.

Orion tilted his head. “...I suppose it depends on which thing he said that you’re thinking of. You did say you’d never forget me, or Neverland...or how to fly.”

“Yes,” said Carewyn, “but I didn’t say that he was wrong, that you’d never understand ambition or family. That’s definitely not true. Ambition isn’t just an adult thing -- you dream of never growing up, of never losing your freedom or your independence...your spirit. That’s a wonderful ambition. And you have a wonderful family too, in Neverland. The centaurs and mermaids -- Merula and the fairies -- the Lost Kids! You take care of them as if they were your family.”

Orion stared at her for a moment, his face very unreadable, but his black eyes rippling with a strange emotion. Then he curled his fingers into the puffy white sleeve of her shirt.

“...And...the last thing?” he asked softly. “‘Husband?’”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “Is marriage something you even want to understand?”

“No!” said Orion instantly, looking revolted. “No...but...well...”

He swallowed, his own gaze drifting away. “...If you grow up...you’ll eventually want one, won’t you?”

Carewyn cocked her brows coolly. “It’s possible. But honestly, marriage seems like a bit of a bother. I’ve had to answer to plenty of adults in my life: I’d hate to have to answer to one more by choice. Especially if it means I have to give up Jacob, my friends, and my dreams just to make him comfortable.”

She said this so huffily, and yet it comforted Orion more than he could ever properly express. His own chest seemed to lighten and he felt better able to breathe again. His eyes softened upon Carewyn’s face.

“...I see.”

The two finally reached the Weasley home again. Orion noticed the house across the street that Carewyn had once pointed out was hers and Jacob’s had been boarded up.

“It’ll get torn down soon,” said Carewyn, noticing Orion’s gaze. “The family that lived there had their house ransacked, just because they were German...”

Her eyes narrowed.

“...It’s disgusting, how they were treated,” she added to herself. “They were very nice to Jacob and me, when we first came home...”

“Where is your brother?” asked Orion.

Carewyn deflated.

“...The war front,” she said sadly. “He’d been saving up so we could move into our own place, but...well, the army needed soldiers, so both he and Mr. Weasley signed up. Mrs. Weasley let me stay here, so I wouldn’t have to struggle to find a place to stay myself.”

Orion felt something oddly like pity prickling at his chest. “You mean you’ve lost him again, after only just getting him back?”

Carewyn didn’t answer as she opened the door of the Weasley home and bustled him inside. Once the door was closed, she guided him over to the main room and into an armchair, wrapping several more blankets around him.

“Wait here,” she said. Her lips spread into a fuller smile. “I’ll make you some hot cocoa -- that’s sure to help you fly again.”

Orion felt his heart give a somersault.

“Do you remember?” he said very quickly, before she could leave the room. “...Do you remember how to fly?”

Carewyn beamed.

“Of course. All you need is faith and trust, and to have been brushed with fairy dust. Then you think happy, wonderful thoughts, and...”

She spread her arms, and -- amazingly -- her feet actually came up off the ground.

Orion’s black eyes widened. Then his mouth slowly spread into the fullest, brightest smile as he found himself coming up off the ground himself. He floated just below her, spreading both of his arms too so as to take her hands and hold them out on either side of them.

Even when the world was so miserable -- even when she had so much reason to forget...Carewyn still knew how to fly.

“You’re flying,” said Carewyn with a warm smile.

Orion’s eyes sparkled as he guided her around in a circle, just as he had when they danced with the fairies. “I found a happy thought.”

“Did you? What is it?”

“A person whose company makes you feel stronger, when you’re at your worst.”

Carewyn smiled. “I believe that’s what’s called a ‘friend,’ Orion Amari.”

Orion’s midnight-black eyes gleamed.

Yes. A friend. Not just someone to go on adventures with, or look after, or play make-believe with, or give direction -- but someone to be your shoulder to lean on. To listen, to comfort...to love. That was a friend. As much as he cherished the Lost Kids, he was the one who had found them -- they answered to him, seeing him as leader, since there was supposedly no one else who could.

This friend...he wanted this friend by his side forever. “Forever,” as Carewyn had once reminded him, was an awfully long time -- but he didn’t hesitate in this thought at all.

And so, not long after, the Boy Who Never Grew Up returned to Neverland. He passed his mantle of leadership onto Lost Boy McNully, said a quick goodbye to all of the members of his Neverland family...and decided to leave for good. Even his short trip back to the Second Star to the Right took up a few weeks, but when he returned to London, his friend was waiting for him. And Orion and Carewyn grew up together, as close of friends as teenagers and later adults as they were as children. Orion grew more than just a fraction of an inch -- he soon towered a good head over Carewyn once more. He even grew a mustache, and a beard too! And yet even with this, it was never beneath his dignity to climb a tree, nor to engage in food fights, nor to read adventure books about pirates, nor to crow like a rooster upon winning a game. No matter how much his other classmates at school would frown, and no matter how much the adults would disdain and scold him, Orion never cared -- and neither did Carewyn, or Bill or Charlie, or any of the other friends he made over the years.

So you see, even if Orion grew older, he never truly grew up...for all children grow up, except one. And one day -- many, many years down the road from when Orion first made the choice to stay -- he looked at Carewyn and realized that his first and dearest friend had become something even more precious: a friend he wished to love, cherish, and live beside far longer than forever. A friend he would call “lover.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #peter pan au #my art #my writing #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #damn it I didn't mean this to be so long but I just couldn't stop XD #my two favorite peter pan adaptations are peter pan (2003) and hook so that DEFINITELY influenced this #I'm sorry but I think peter finding a reason to grow up is sweet #I know there's the whole fan interpretation of peter guiding dead children to the afterlife and all but...#well we see kids leave neverland not just the darlings but the lost boys #and honestly hook is right in the 2003 version -- peter IS a tragedy as he is!#in the end he'll always end up alone #so really eventually every child *should* grow up...it's a scary thing but something that must be faced anyway #because through that hardship one can find even more fulfilling happiness #because it's happiness that's fought for #that's my two cents anyway XD;#geez orion looks so different without his facial hair LOL

14 notes · View notes

pomegranate-belle · 5 years

Text

So I finally finished @returnsandreturns ten song fic meme from weeks ago. The results include lots of MattFoggy, a hint of Kastle, a smidge of Elektra, and a Billy Russo cameo.

1. What is This Feeling?

Foggy knows his roommate doesn’t like him.

And look, he’s blind so maybe Foggy should be nicer to him or something. But the guy’s, like — a huge asshole. He’s constantly criticizing Foggy -- his eating habits, his hygiene, his taste in entertainment -- or eschewing words altogether to offer up these just, scathing expressions.

And Foggy tries, ok! He keeps the floor clear for Matt because honestly he’s not a dick, ok, he knows no matter what their issues with each other are, that’s no excuse to not accommodate Matt’s disability. But come on, when Matt complains that Foggy’s music — which he’s listening to through headphones — is too loud, he’s just bullshitting. So yeah, it might not be like, very cool of him, but he dislikes Matt right back.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop Matt from being unfairly mega hot. In the end, that only really helps Foggy hate him more. Someone who’s that much of a dick should not be so pretty. Now if only Foggy could stop daydreaming about shoving him against a wall and kissing him, everything would be perfect.

2. Never Let This Go

Matt’s content. He is. Or... He chose this, at least. It’s what he wanted. To not have to worry that he was putting the people he cared about in danger. To not have to listen to every sense he has tell him that Foggy is pulling further away, that his trust in Matt is unraveling thread by thread.

And yet, he still finds himself crouched on the fire escape outside Foggy’s new apartment, hands clinging tight to the railing as he listens to Foggy’s sleeping heartbeat, the one familiar sensation in the whole building. The smells and sounds are different — expensive cologne, expensive clothing, expensive furniture, expensive food. It takes time to burrow past all that to Foggy, and it aches.

He wants— to be in there, to be Nelson and Murdock again instead of Daredevil alone. But the evidence is staring him in the face, and even if he can’t see it he’s got plenty of other senses to tell him — Foggy’s changed, and Matt doesn’t have a place here anymore.

3. Midna’s Theme

The rain is falling in sheets. Elektra knows she would be more comfortable inside. Dry, and warm. But here she sits, crouched on the edge of the rooftop like a foolish gargoyle. Just closes her eyes and tilts her head back and lets the rain cry for her, Lets the wind tangle slow, frigid fingers through her dark hair. She’s made her choices, all of them, and they’ve led her here. But that doesn’t mean she has no regrets. The wind swirls around her, in, out. She breathes with it, opens her eyes to watch a streak of moonlight break past the clouds. When the light vanishes again, so does she.

4. London (Live Version)

Karen knows she doesn’t belong here. The couples swirl around the glamorous ballroom like dancers in a tinkling music box. Everything glitters and shines. But like a dream, she weaves through the party, unnoticed by anyone. It’s as though she’s a mirage. Or maybe they are.

But she’s not here to watch the beauty, no matter how captivating it is. She’s here to find the truth and get out before midnight. She’s here to—

With a suddenness that pulls the breath from her lungs, her hand is grasped, and she’s tugged into a waltz. A moment later, her breath catches again when she looks up to see a familiar, rugged face. Frank’s expression is as impassive as ever, but there’s a twinkle in his dark eyes that makes her think he’s amused.

“You’re alive,” she breathes, hardly feeling the way they glide across the floor in wide, elegant arcs.

“Promised you,” he rumbles in that low, low voice that sends shivers down her spine. “Didn’t I?”

The ballroom could be on fire and Karen wouldn’t notice.

“Yes. You did.”

5. At the Beginning

The Matt standing across from him, here at the altar, is covered in more shimmering silver scars than Foggy could ever count. His nose is a little crooked now from being broken so often. There were times, so many times, that Foggy thought... But despite all the trials and dangers in their lives, he hasn’t lost Matt. No matter how many times they’ve walked away or been pushed apart, they’re here now.

There are laugh lines at the corners of Matt’s lovely mouth and the first strands of white in his hair. But when he grins, bright and joyful, Foggy sees him as he was at the beginning — scrawny, sheepish, in a dumpy hand-me-down sweater and two dollar shades. That smile, Foggy’s favorite smile, is still the same after all these years. And Matt is so, so beautiful.

Neither of them gets through their vows with dry eyes. But when he gets to brush tear tracks from Matt’s cheeks and kiss him, well, Foggy hardly minds.

6. Hello, Young Lovers

(Obligatory Bittersweet Time Travel AU)

Foggy watches from the window, leans against the frame and smiles sadly as he watches Matty and a young version of himself pull up short in front of each other. They’re both pink-faced and shy. Foggy remembers what that was like, the tongue-tied embarrassment, the eagerness, the desire to be close. Eighteen and knowing, somehow, that there could never be anybody else but Matt, not really.

He’d never seen the dopey smiles on his own face of course, but he imagines the one on young Foggy’s face matches. The two teens walk off together, talking and laughing, nudging one another. Foggy continues to stare down at the street long after they’ve passed out of sight, reminiscing.

His own memories of Matt aren’t always happy, but he still has them to wrap around himself as he hopes that he’s changed enough, hopes that the two kids strolling on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen below have a chance to lead a simpler, safer, longer life together.

7. Love is an Open Door

Foggy’s not expecting much of a response — he doesn’t, generally speaking, especially from guys as good-looking as this one — when he calls the man at the bar ‘handsome’. What he gets is a startled look and a sweet smile.

“Handsome?” He asks, like he’s not sure.

“Uh, Yeah. Do you not use mirrors or something...?”

The guy laughs.

“I generally get... Something else,” he tells Foggy, holding out a hand. “Billy Russo.”

Foggy shakes it.

“Foggy Nelson, nice to meet you, Billy.”

“Foggy, huh?” Billy tilts his head thoughtfully. “It suits you. Well, Foggy, can I buy you a drink?”

There is no way in hell Foggy’s turning down a drink from this guy. No way.

“I wish you would,” he says, trying to copy the coy little smirk that Marci and Matt both do so well.

It must work, considering the scorching look Billy sends his way as he absently waves the bartender over.

8. She (For Liz)

(fem!MattFoggy Into the Spider-Verse AU)

Matt is... Something else. Foggy’s known for having a fumbling manner and no filter at the best of times but Matt makes her practically incoherent. And it sucks, because all Foggy wants to do is spout gorgeous love poetry at her, anything that can capture how beautiful Matt is. How she makes the whole world shine.

Every time Foggy thinks to herself, screw it, today’s the day I’m going to say it, today’s the day I’m going to tell her I love her, no matter how stupid I sound when I do... The moment Matt turns a dazzling smile on her or says something clever, Foggy’s courage just dries right up. How can she possibly risk losing this, losing the best friend she’s ever had? Matt’s brilliant and charming and totally badass and Foggy’s not sure she can live without her anymore. The words cut at the inside of her mouth like glass. It hurts to keep them in. But ruining her friendship with Matt would hurt worse.

Foggy’s a coward, and she keeps her mouth shut.

9. Doomsday

Foggy swallows. Listens to the rush of his pulse in his ears. Stares at the empty wall in front of him.

“No,” he says, because it’s the only thing he ever could.

The only sound he can form to disavow the impossibility in front of him. The wall stays blank. The portal swirling out of it only seconds ago is gone. And Matt is on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Foggy,” Danny says.

“Sorry, you’re—“ sputters Foggy. “You’re sorry! He’s gone! He’s gone and I’ll never see him again but hey, at least you’re sorry!”

“Foggy!” snaps Karen, and all the anger dissolves instantly.

“I’m.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. You have to take me back, I need— I have to get back to him.”

Danny can’t even meet his eyes.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, there’s no way back. I’m so sorry.”

10. She Is

(fem!MattFoggy Into the Spider-Verse AU)

The moment that Matt realizes she’s in love with Foggy, they’re in the middle of a study group, with three other people crammed into their dorm room. Foggy’s just cracked a stupid joke and is laughing about it. It’s the most adorable sound Matt’s ever heard, and it makes her tingle down to her toes.

She very calmly excuses herself, very calmly walks down the hall to the dorm bathrooms, locks herself in one, and proceeds to hyperventilate.

How, Matt wonders frantically. How did I not notice?

But she doesn’t have an answer. She’s thought, almost since the beginning, that Foggy was sweet and charming and funny and brilliant. She challenges Matt, makes her better, pulls her out of her shell. Foggy makes everything better. She’s easy to love. But that’s not the same as being in love with her. As wanting her. And Matt does want her. She wants Foggy’s silly, drunken cheek kisses to find her mouth instead. Wants Foggy to say, “you’re beautiful, Matty,” in the same besotted way she always speaks to her latest boyfriend or girlfriend.

Foggy’s not at all the kind of person Matt would expect herself to end up with. She’s always pictured someone sharp, hard, a bit broken — like herself. Foggy’s nothing like that, soft and warm and sweet. But she’s perfect.

“I am so,” Matt breathes hopelessly, “so fucked.”

#mattfoggy #daredevil #writing #kastle

12 notes · View notes

songbird-and-her-fos · 5 years

Text

So, after a lot of thinking about it, I’ve decided to post the remake of my first fanfiction. It’s based on my daydreams. I hope you enjoy!

Beyond Daydreams

Chapter 1

A whole new World

The day began like any other. I woke up long before my alarm clock would do its daily duty, and spent a few minutes in the velvety darkness pondering all of the things I had to do today. First I'd go to work, then I had to help my younger sister with her homework, and then... what?

I would have loved to spend some time with my friends, but most of them had significant others now, and thus were to busy to hang out. Especially during this time of the year, when the summer sun mercilessly scorched the country with her rays, they had all taken some days off to enjoy the heat.

It sucked to be the only single in my friend group.

I stood up, absentmindedly rubbing the sleepy dust from the corners of my eyes, and walking towards the kitchen, where, judging by the scent hanging in the air, my mother was preparing breakfast.

��Good morning, Cassie“, my mother greeted me. „Did you sleep well?“

She was packing my sister's lunch, still in her nightgown and obviously still very tired.

I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl next to the fridge and shrugged. „Eh, so-so. I always have trouble sleeping when it's so hot.“

Mom looked over to me. „You know, it wouldn't hurt you to have breakfast with Genny and me every once in a while, instead of just eating an apple and leaving.“

„Mom, you know that I just can't get myself to eat in the morning.“ I looked around. „Speaking of Genny, where is she?“

„I think she just went outside. Tinka climbed the old tree again and won't come down.“

I sighed. Tinka was our cat, a beautiful, pure white European Short-Hair. But her lovely looks seemed to hide the fact that she appearantly had trouble remembering that she was scared of heights. „I'll go get her.“

My younger sister Genevieve, Genny for short was standing in front of the old tree in our backyard. Nobody quite knew what kind of tree it was, only that my grandmother had planted it in her youth. It kind of resembled an oak, except that the nuts it bore every fall certainly weren't acorns.

Genny turned around when she heard my footsteps. She looked at lot like me when I was her age, before I got my glasses. We both had brown hair, though I had been keeping mine in a short, messy bob for the past few years while hers reached her mid-back, and we both had green eyes.

„Tinka is too scared to come down“, she told me softly. A habit she had picked up when she found out that I was very sensitive to people talking loudly.

I smiled at her. „That's okay. Go inside; breakfast is ready. I'll go get Tinka.“

She nodded and poked me in the arm as she walked past me and I poked her back, something we started doing as a way of showing affection a while ago, as Genny did not like being hugged.

Once the door closed behind her, I turned to the tree again and sighed. „Here goes nothing...“

Climbing the tree was no trouble for me, as I had been climbing that tree a lot as a child. I carefully reached for higher branches, carefully scanning for the ones thick enough to hold my weight, until I was high enough to grab Tinka. That's when I noticed it. It was as if someone had carved a small hole into the tree, and hidden something sparkling in it.

„Concentrate“, I told myself, but the object in that hole seemed to attract my thoughts like a magnet. So I carefully reached inside, and felt the cool, smooth surface of something resembling glass. As I pulled it out, I heard Tinka hiss. Suddenly, the object began to glow so bright that I had to shield my eyes, lost my balance, and fell.

The fall seemed to last an eternity. The tree wasn't very high, so what took so long? Or maybe I had already hit the floor and was just knocked out? But then how could I feel the edges of the shard I had pulled out of the tree so clearly against the palm of my hand?

After some time, I finally hit ground. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs and the glasses off my face. It took some time for me to be able to breathe again. However, I did not see much upon opening my eyes, as I was as good as blind without my glasses. Then I heard footsteps. Tiny footsteps, as if a group of children was approaching me.

„Who is it? What is it?“, one of them asked. It was the voice of a little boy.

Another, the voice of a girl, said:„A Hylian!“

„Nonsense“, a third voice hissed. „Have you ever seen Hylians with ears or clothes like that?“

„What does it want?“, asked another. „How did it get here?“

Now, they were all talking at once, quite loudly, too, which prompted me to press my hands on my ears, like I always did when there was too much noise. The sudden movement seemed to startle the children, as they went quiet.

„Oh no, I think we scared it.“ As I looked up, one of the children had left the group and approached me.

„Saria, don't! It might be dangerous!“

„It doesn't look dangerous.“ The girl named 'Saria' now stood right in front of me, close enough that even I could make out some features. Most notably her green hair, but also the green clothes.

„You know“, I said dryly. „It's very rude to call someone 'it'. I'm a she, if you want to know.“

„It talks!“, I heard one of the other children whisper.

Saria leaned closer. „I'm... sorry, but we've never seen someone like you. And we didn't mean to scare you.“

„You didn't“, I replied. „I just don't like it when many people talk at once. It hurts my ears.“

„Oh. Well, we didn't mean to hurt you, either. Do you have a name?“

„Cassandra“, I said. Then I turned to scan the ground for my glasses again. „C-could you please help me find my glasses?“

„What's a glasses?“, Saria asked.

I sighed a deep sigh. „It's something that helps me see. My eyes are really bad, you know?“

„Oh.“ She walked past me, looking at the ground and finally picking something up and handing it to me. „Is this what you're looking for?“

„My glasses!“, I cheered. „Thank you.“ Maybe now I could get a better idea of where I was and what had happened.

Once they were in their place again, I turned to the group of children. All of them seemed to be around 10 years old, with either red, brown or blonde hair (or green, in Saria's case). They all wore green clothes, made of a fabric I couldn't quite name.

I had never seen any of them before, so I was about to ask what they were doing in my garden. But when I looked around, my jaw dropped. I was not in my garden anymore.

I was in a forest, at the foot of an absolutely massive tree. I had never seen a tree this big before. Then I noticed the signs of decay on its trunk and how the last leaves were falling.

This tree was very, very dead.

„Where am I?“, I asked, even though it felt terribly clichéd.

„This is Kokiri Forest“, Saria answered kindly. The name struck a cord in me. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had heard it before.

„Yes, and you shouldn't be here“, a boy from the group snapped. Then he turned to Saria. „Saria, this thing is bad news. First the Great Deku Tree's death, Link leaving, and now a weird... thing showing up here? This just spells trouble!“

„Mido! You're being very rude. Can't you see that Cassandra has no idea where she is?“, Saria scolded him. Then she turned to me again. „Can you stand?“

„I... think.“ I carefully got up, still a little wonky, but at least standing. „So. Kokiri Firest, huh? Do you kids live here? Where are your parents?“

The group of kids began to whisper among themselves again. „Parents? What's she talking about?“, one boy asked.

„I.. I think she means adults“, another said.

„Adults? We don't have those here.“

I let out a small laugh of disbelief. „You're pulling my leg. You're telling me you kids live here... all on your own? No adults?“

„No adults“, Saria confirmed. Then she looked around. „Mido may have been a bit rude before, but he had a point. You cannot stay here. Otherwise, the magic of the forest will turn you into a monster.“

For a moment, I thought that she was joking, but then I saw how utterly serious her face was.

„You're kidding“, I said.

„Unfortunately not“, she replied, taking my hand. „Come on. I'll lead you out of the forest.“

She led me away from the giant dead tree to another clearing in the forest, through a small village of child-sized houses, all carved into the stumps of trees.

Only then I saw the many floating lights.

„What are those?“, I asked, staring at them.

„Have you never seen a fairy before?“, Saria asked, and like on cue, a small ball of light with a green aura popped out of a pocket on her clothes. It had wings, but due to its glow, I could not make out any other features.

„Fairies“, I repeated slowly. „No. Not outside of books, at least.“

But as fascinating as this was, I also had the nagging feeling that all of this seemed eerily familiar.

As we approached what seemed to be the exit of the woods, Saria let go of my hand. „This is as far as I can take you“, she explained. „I do not know anything about the world outside of the forest. I do not know what will wait for you on the other side.“

„That's okay“, I replied. „Thank you for your help.“ Then I stepped out of the woods and into the bright light of the outside.

#Beyond Daydreams #The Legend of Zelda #fanfic #self insert

1 note · View note

wazafam · 3 years

Link

The supernatural teen genre has been a favorite for movies and television since the late '90s and 2000s, and fans probably have Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Twilight to thank for it. Like many movies and television specific to one genre, they tend to follow common tropes. Adhering to tropes is a given in these types of movies and TV shows, as they're highly liked by viewers and give fans everything they want to see happen.

RELATED: 10 Teen Drama Tropes That All Fans Know

These tropes can also be a guilty pleasure, can often be spotted a mile away, and sometimes even mean that viewers can guess the storyline or even the ending of the movie or episode before the halfway point. But it doesn't matter. It's all about the unlikely beautiful teen who gets tangled in the world of the supernatural, who falls in love and faces a deadly enemy seeking to destroy them.

10 The New Girl Or Boy

Movies and shows of the supernatural teen genre don't have much if there's no new character. Of course, there are always the main characters that have lived in the movie's set location for years. But the arrival of the new girl or guy sends everyone into a frenzy that jumpstarts the supernatural story.

Twilight is a prime example, as Forks was a mundane town where the Cullens lived in peace. But the arrival of Bella had everyone brainwashed and the Cullens are thrust into the drama. The same occurs in The Vampire Diaries with the arrival of Stefan and Damon.

9 The Naive & Quaint Town

Taking a look at the more famous movies and show in the game, they all have one thing in common. The towns in which the main characters reside have no idea about their involvement in the supernatural. It's an overused trope that's used to create an aura of mystery and secrecy.

It occurs in Teen Wolf, as the townspeople are unaware that they are inhabited by werewolves and a beacon for supernatural entities. The same can be said for The Vampire Diaries, as the residents of Mystic Falls somehow miss all the vampires, wolves, and weird things that are happening in their quaint town.

8 Characters With Hidden Supernatural Abilities

There wouldn't be much intrigue if the main characters' real nature was known by the general public. There would be no mystery or the riveting thrill of whether or not they'll be discovered. This trope is somewhat essential to the genre. Characters try to keep their abilities secret for the fear of humans hunting them or using them for ill purposes.

The Cullens travel from town to town as they restart high school to draw away suspicion that they don't age. Bella also has to relearn how to act human in front of Charlie. In Vampire Academy, the human world has no idea that there's a vampire world and a whole school dedicated to them.

7 Gorgeous Characters

Part of what makes supernatural shows and movies so popular with teens are the good looking male and female characters. These characters have fans daydreaming during fourth period and drawing hearts on their binders. Fans swoon over the muscles and bad boy charm of Jacob Black and the chiseled face of Edward Cullen.

RELATED: Twilight: The Male Characters Ranked By Their Romantic Partner Potential

Fans also can't forget the jaw-droppingly handsome male leads in The Covenant. The trope also applies to female characters, too, as Bella enchanted her peers with her looks and even more so as a vampire. A beautiful supernatural character adds to the other worldly fantasy element.

6 The Love Triangle

To be fair, the love triangle is a commonly used trope in many genres. But this type of romance in supernatural storylines is always intriguing and adds a different level of tantalizing drama to the overall story.

The Twilight love triangle is the most famous of the bunch, but fans also can't forget the one in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the tug of war battle as Buffy has to choose between Spike or Angel. Above all, there is Elena fighting her heart's desire to be with Damon while being in love with Stefan.

5 The Big World Ending Event Or Problem

A supernatural show or movie isn't able to enthrall fans if there isn't a threat to world safety or a potentially world-ending occurrence. The show or movie has to lead up to a riveting end, with fans hoping their characters make it out alive. Buffy literally has to stop the world from ending and Scott and his friends have to fight an Anuk-Ite in an all-out war.

In the movie adaption of the teen fantasy novel, The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones, Clary has to help the Shadowhunters find the mortal cup and stop her father from reigning terror. In The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Sabrina has to stop The Void from consuming the world.

4 The Villain Who Wants More Power

Villains in the genre also run into their own tropes that are used over and over. Villains follow the trope of them wanting extreme power and stopping at nothing to get it. This trope adds some needed tension to the storyline. In The Covenant, the main characters learn that Chase is a descendant of the Ipswitch families.

Chase kills a student as well as his adoptive and real family. He kills his father so that he can receive his father's powers on his 18th birthday and he seeks to kill Caleb or force his hand in order to transfer his powers to him. This trope is easily expected in the genre.

3 The Main Character With Unique Powers

In these types of movies, the main character has to be special in some way. In Twilight, Bella's blood is sickly sweet and entices every vampire. When she turns into a vampire herself, she has the unique ability to create force fields with her mind. There are even more examples, like Hope from Legacies being the only vampire, wolf, and witch hybrid to ever exist.

RELATED: Teen Wolf: The Main Characters, Ranked By Power

Some unique abilities are milder, like Scott from Teen Wolf being a natural-born Alpha. The same can be said for Sabrina Spellman from the Netflix series, who has immense magical powers due to being the daughter of Lucifer himself.

2 The Female Character That Needs Saving

One trope that is always seen is the female lead character always being the center of everyone's world and always needing saving. A perfect example is how many of the characters in TVD had to sacrifice something in order to keep Elena safe. The same occurs with Bella and the Cullens keeping her safe from James - much to Rosalie's disgruntlement.

In Vampire Academy, Rose is Lissa's guardian protector and focuses all her energy on keeping the future Queen safe. The trope even applies in The Covenant, where Caleb has to keep his new love interest out of harm's way.

1 Forbidden Love

A good supernatural show or movie can't be without forbidden love. It's a given trope that is highly loved by fans. Bella meets Edward and knows they can't really be together, as he's a vampire who is enticed by her human blood. In Fallen, Daniel actively rejects and stays away from Lucinda.

The reasoning for this is because they are a reincarnated love story, but every time they kiss, Lucinda dies. They have a forbidden love, as Daniel is a fallen angel and can't be in love with a human. A love story is always intriguing, but a supernatural one is always better.

NEXT: The Falcon And The Winter Soldier: 10 Played-Out Superhero Tropes, Ranked

10 Tropes Commonly Seen In Supernatural Teen Movies & TV Shows from https://ift.tt/3f2CfEe

#Blogger

0 notes

rinnnyxr · 3 years

Text

Taurus - Earth paperback books going off the grid the “change my mind” meme introduced friends to natural wine dab pens chunky knits collecting hopscotches vibe check using hands as utensils trail mix wary of new people refined taste in art thanklessly supportive can’t take your own great advice comfortable footwear splurging on candles bear hugs *sort by price: highest -> lowest * cleaning as you go lazy Sundays annoyed by people who lack follow through rainy day blanket forts probiotics motivated by spite 6/24

Gemini - Air chewing gum free trials answering a question with a new question editorializing diabolical laughter spilling other people’s gossip think pieces knowing what makes anyone tick messy car bar hopping schemes embodiment of the ‘tongue sticking out’ emoji stirring the pot vocal in ever group chat used to be famous on Wattpad “hey Siri” actually loving small talk would fight or fuck a stranger computer desktop full of unorganized files rooting for villains reading tabloids in the grocery line pretending to look busy can list 10 famous Geminis swiping Tinder without looking 3/24

Cancer - Water baking from scratch dreaming of an RV trip craving codependency scent-based memories Sunday morning open houses keeping a list of baby names holding hands cozy nights in same best friends since 1st grade serial monogamy needing a foundation of trust texts < phone calls longing stares mood playlists vanilla-scented everything saying “please” and “thank you” feeling misunderstood taking great pics of your friends favorite season is autumn black and white filters vintage tea sets silent treatment home resemble a dollhouse nostalgic for a historical period you never experienced 7/24

I can’t wait to not live with my parents I check facebook everyday I have no idea what to do with my life after I graduate Malibu is my choice of rum I strongly dislike the taste of beer I remember lyrics easily My room is an absolute mess at the moment I don’t have a twitter account I love Jake and Amir ^Their older stuff was better though I enjoy playing video games I’ve driven drunk I’m trying not to smoke weed anymore I lovelovelove finding new music I wish I could wear shorts all year People seem to think I have a “bad reputation” I am not a slut ^But I admit, I am a tease at times Apparently I lead guys on without even knowing it I want to travel I suck hardcore at pool I shop at TNA I watch Jersey Shore ^Sammi is a dumb bitch I am super excited for Halloween this year ^I’m gonna look cute I still listen to Christina Aguilera ^I like her older stuff waaay better than any recent shit I have a bad habit of not texting people back I want a new phone oh so badly I was 16 the first time I ever smoked weed I haven’t saved any money in months I don’t wish I was taller, I like my height I love spending the entire day at the beach I hope it doesn’t snow this winter I have friends I don’t trust I’m uncomfortable hanging out with people younger than me I have never liked a guy younger than me I like playing solitaire on my iPod I hate Usher’s song “OMG” I can’t see myself ever being addicted to cigarettes I want a new job Someone misses me a lot more than I miss them I wish my boobs were a bit bigger I enjoy bitching people out when they deserve it I hate days where nothing goes right I really don’t care for Christmas ^I look forward to New Years more I wish I had a good book to read I love when I make the right choice Sometimes I’m a sore loser I chew gum every day I usually shampoo and condition my hair every day I hate hairspray I would never get eyelash extensions People always think I wear hair extensions, but I don’t I think I look fine without makeup ^But I still wear it practically every day I haven’t gone out to see a movie in awhile I’ve wasted months and months on a guy who wasn’t even worth it My mom constantly judges me Ke$ha’s music is catchy I was never really a fan of Britney Spears The only sport I’m really interested in is soccer The only “fast food” place I eat at is Subway I never have whip cream on anything I order at Starbucks I love just chilling in Starbucks with a drink and something to eat I like to party I kind of want to start watching Glee French fries are delicious I hate crying in front of other people I always plug my iPod in when I drive There’s someone I’m looking forward to seeing next summer I like the size of my computer screen I love when my legs are hairless and smooth My nails are always short I can’t remember the last time I bought a CD I only wear tampons ^Pads just gross me out and are uncomfortable I hate when something I want to wear is dirty or in the wash Half the clothes I own, I don’t wear Smirnoff Ices > Palm Bays I’ve never been in love ^But I’ve been in lust I’m not a very cautious driver

1. I’ve only had two boyfriends. And I’ve only kissed two people. 2. I’m really picky about everything. 3. There isn’t a single thing that I wouldn’t over-analyze. 4. Every time I’m on the computer, I’m on Tumblr. 5. My biggest fear is that I’ll look back on my life and feel like it wasn’t even worth it. 6. I don’t know how to change that. But I’m trying anyway. 7. I still don’t drive but I hope I’ll have a car by the beginning of 2021. 8, is my favorite number. 9. Jersey Shore has to be one of the best reality shows ever. 10. If I had to marry a girl it would be Rihanna or Lady Gaga. 11. I have spider bites on the left side of my lip. 12. My hair is dyed red. 13. I can’t wait until I have enough money to go shopping. 14. Winter is my favorite season. But I quite like fall. 15. I would love to travel to different countries. 16. I’ve never even left the east coast. 17. I’m not extremely religious but I love my church. 18. I’m very sentimental. 19. It doesn’t take much for something to remind me of someone. 20. My dreams are always really crazy. I like to analyze them sometimes. 21. I’m so glad the new season of House has started. 22. I should really exercise but I seriously lack motivation. 23. I’m constantly using adverbs. 24. When I’m feeling emotional, I like to write about it. 25. I kind of feel lost. Like I’m floating with no direction. 26. I probably worry entirely too much about my future. 27. This winter, I’m going to work on totally changing my wardrobe. 28. I love it when I can really get into a song or a book. 29. The amount of Facebook creeping I do is probably not healthy. 30. My nails are always painted black and white. 31. It really bothers me when I make a list and it begins with the same thing so this survey is annoying to make. 32. Purple is my favorite color. 33. There’s a career that I would love but I don’t really know how I’d even get involved in it. 34. I want to be fucking rich. 35. I’d rather live in the city. 36. My parents have been divorced for a long time. 37. I’m a big daydreamer. It affects my life a lot because I wish that I could actually live in the imaginary world I create for myself. 38. I hope that one day, I’ll feel like I’m good enough for someone. 39. Cherry Coke is the best soda. 40. It honestly blows me when people say they can’t tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. But it’s even more appalling when they think Pepsi is better. 41. I’m pretty liberal. 42. I’m really easily annoyed and I can’t even stand people for the most part. 43. I try to find out why I do the things I do and feel the way I feel about everything. 44. I hope one day, I’ll find someone who’s worth knowing everything about me. 45. Honestly, I think I’m an interesting person. 46. But I really don’t like for people to find out that much about me. 47. Lately, I’ve sort of been into making lists. 48. I’ve changed a lot over the years. 49. I don’t regret anything.

Gemini Ohh..those mood swings Constantly second guessing themselves Expert procrastinator Hate taking responsibility for any mess up Laugh at their own jokes They always light up your mood They will always tell you the truth even if it’s harsh They can’t stay at one place for too long Avoid conflicts at any cost Still flirts with you like you’re their crush 6/10

Libra They’re very indecisive They have a child like energy They hate when things don’t happen the way they wanted They love exploring new places with you They’re so charming that you’re sometimes scared of their loyalty They get very sarcastic after a fight They always have time to listen to your problems They can be very stubborn sometimes They have a really good taste in movies and music They like writing for you 7/10

Aquarius They’re very romantic They don’t give up easily They’re good listeners They hate being controlled Kind of impatient Most empathetic person you know They love to live happily and freely They’re good at remembering dates They act stronger than they’re actually They’re always down to try new things 5/10

0 notes

thebartleyeffect · 5 years

Text

Iceland

I was talking just now to Jack, who told me that Glenn is on his way to Grand Rapids, Michigan this morning to bring his kid home from college for the summer. Jack mentioned that whichever of the Great Lakes that Grand Rapids sits on (Lake Michigan! Who knew?) is one of the largest bodies of water in the world. “It gets cold up there”, I added, “...real cold. Cold enough that the Coast Guard has one of their icebreakers permanently stationed up there to keep the freighters moving throughout the winter. They’ve even got a couple’a buoy tenders up there – they treat that lake like it’s one of the oceans, it’s so big!”

Jack mumbled something and turned back to his laptop, the mumbling effect deliberately employed to politely discourage me from continuing on with my monologue, but it was too late; I felt a story coming on and I just had to start telling it, if for no other reason, to see where it would take me.

“I remember the time….”, I began, and watched as Jack’s shoulders visibly sagged. Determined to not get tangled up in the net of yet another one of my stories, he hunkered down even lower over his laptop, as his fingertips feverishly flew across his keyboard, praying that I would take the hint, but I was already on a roll.

“…when me, Perreault and our wives all went to Iceland in March. Cold? Dude, you don’t know what cold is until you’ve been to Iceland!”

Jack didn’t even mumble at this last assertion, for he was already blissfully absorbed in his coding.

I spent part of a winter in the Arctic – say that again – The Arctic – on an icebreaker and even then, I was never as cold there as I was the night Perreault decided he wanted to stand at the edge of Reykjavik Harbor at 11:30 at night to wait for the Northern Lights to make their appearance.

It was about nine o’clock one night and the four of us were hanging out in his hotel room when Perreault suddenly brightened up and said. “Hey – I’m going out to shoot some pictures of the Northern Lights – you comin’?” The excitement at capturing something so majestic and so magical was written all over his face and after all, it was he who had put this entire amazing trip together in the first place, so who was I to opt out of something that he clearly wanted to experience with us? Lucy, for her part, said she was staying right where she was, thank-you-very-much, in a warm hotel room holding her just-refilled glass of Chardonnay.

That left me and Tracy. Tracy was clearly going and I wasn’t going to let them go by themselves, so I grabbed my jacket, kissed my wife and the three of us headed out the door and down to the lobby. As we crossed the lobby to the revolving door that lead to the sidewalk outside, I savored every calorie of heat that caressed my face while I walked past the check-in desk, the fireplace and the bar and braced myself for what lay beyond, because I would not return for at least an hour, maybe longer.

When we stepped outside, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it wasn’t really all that bad outside, even at 10:30pm. I couldn’t possibly know it at the time, but the worst was yet to come. The narrow streets and densely-packed buildings in the historic Old Town of Reykjavik were positioned quite well, inasmuch that they all worked together to collectively shield the inner Old Town from the howling gales that relentlessly swept in off the nearly-frozen Reykjavik Harbor. Of course, I had no way of knowing this until we emerged from the relatively sheltered Old Town and crossed one of the city’s main thoroughfares and began trudging across an open expanse of snow-encrusted terrain towards the harbor’s edge.

Now, had this been anywhere in the US, this open expanse would have been long ago purchased and built upon with soaring spears of glass, steel and concrete skyscrapers, their soulless eyes gazing blankly out across the harbor.

But this was Iceland, and the city’s planners understood the value of lush, green open spaces in the summertime, especially with regard to how it could enhance a weary city-dweller’s life by offering sweeping views of Reykjavik’s picturesque harbor, especially as it naturally encouraged rest and relaxation, daydreaming and thoughtful introspection…

And picnics.

Summers in Iceland represent but one of two seasons, for there is no Autumn nor Spring, All year round in Iceland, the sun streaks overhead with the speed of a meteor, before dropping with a loud “THUNK!” down behind the horizon, only to do it all over again the following day.

Winters are the worst, with the sun first struggling into view somewhere around 11:30am, reaching its weak, milky-white zenith a little past noon, before giving up completely and sinking below the horizon without so much as a whimper at 3:30pm.

Summers are an altogether different affair, with the sun blazing overhead from 3am to midnight. It is then that these hardy Northlanders revel and rejoice like they were gonna die tomorrow. The verdant field that abuts the harbor is home to wine-soaked summer concerts, fireworks displays and generally good-natured and light-hearted mayhem, for these people understand the fleeting nature of summer and they are determined to make the most of it before the sun retreats once again to be replaced by the slicing Arctic winds of Winter.

That night when we ventured out, there was no wine flowing in the field, there were no strains of symphonic music wafting across the waving grasses, only a strong gale that mercilessly buffeted my eardrums, tugged vigorously at my pantlegs and siphoned off every last calorie of heat from my legs until I could no longer feel my shins. We stood there, the three of us, at the edge of the nearly-frozen harbor, waiting for the first glimmer of the dancing lights in the sky to appear overhead. Five minutes passed, then fifteen. I called it quits when I officially became a eunuch somewhere just after the thirty minute mark and announced that I needed to find someplace warm to get a coffee and begin the process of raising my body’s core temperature out the low 70s and back to the general neighborhood of its preferred 98.6. Hearing this, Tracy’s countenance brightened noticeably and she offered to accompany me so that I would not have to go it alone. That left poor Perreault to stand by himself for another twenty minutes until he, too, had no choice but to admit defeat.

In the meantime, Tracy and I set out towards an oasis of red neon and chrome that beckoned from across the frozen tundra, a gas station, as it turned out, albeit a well-appointed one at that, for it sported a small café with red vinyl-trimmed booths to sit and rest in, an assortment of hot drinks to choose from, even a small grille that offered hot dogs, cheeseburgers and french fries. The air inside was warm and steamy, perfect for encouraging even the most basic of bodily functions – like circulation – to begin working once again.

When Perreault finally joined us, I was just finishing my second paper cup of steaming black coffee and Tracy was halfway through a large hot chocolate that I had made for her myself, complete with half-and-half for extra creaminess. Best all, I was relieved to discover that I was finally beginning to regain some of the lost feeling in my lower legs at last.

We picked up our belongings and headed back out into the night, but this time we were much better suited for the cold, especially with the knowledge that, in just a few short minutes, we would push back through the revolving door of our hotel’s lobby and rejoin the coziness of the bar, the fireplace and, eventually, our own hotel room, where we would toast each other once more with a nightcap before succumbing to the exquisitely soft comfort of our warm beds for the night.

It’s been almost three years now since that memorable evening, and just a few days ago, I received a letter from the Icelandic Bureau of Tourism in Reykjavik. They were writing to notify me that one of the summer picnickers had discovered what had once been the frozen remains of my nuts in the middle of that very same field, while they were enjoying one the first concerts of the summer. Actually, it was their dog that found them somewhere out there on the field.

Anyway, he trotted up with one of them dangling from between his teeth, before proudly dropping them onto their blanket as a gift to his owners and then laying down next to them to protect them from any of the would-be nut thieves that were no doubt always lurking somewhere, just out of sight.

They arrived two weeks later in a Fed-Ex 2nd-day Air envelope and when I first opened it and peered inside, I thought at first that someone had mailed me one-and-a-half cashews. They were pitiful little things, actually, and clearly of no use to me now.

So I put them in a little salt dish and placed them high up on the mantle over our fireplace, out of reach of any curious grandchildren, until I can decide what to do with them. My wife now refuses to dust anywhere near the mantle, so thoroughly creeped-out as she is by my long-dormant and now-useless nuts now adorning our fireplace.

I’m pondering the value of shipping them back to Iceland, back to the Icelandic Bureau of Tourism in Reykjavik, so that they can be prominently and conspicuously displayed at the entrance to that God-forsaken field.

As a warning…

To those that would follow…

0 notes

toldnews-blog · 5 years

Photo

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/technology/entertainment/the-week-in-arts-cher-42nd-street-and-at-the-heart-of-gold/

The Week in Arts: Cher, ‘42nd Street’ and ‘At the Heart of Gold’

Film: Ever So Much to Say in ‘Non-Fiction’

May 3 and May 10

The Parisians at the center of Olivier Assayas’s latest romp, “Non-Fiction,” like to read and write. They also like to banter, cajole, debate and spar — about the state of literature and the evolution of publishing, the printed page and the digital realm, the timelessness of the letter and the art of the tweet.

“Non-Fiction” sets the stage with a mopey novelist, Léonard Spiegel (Vincent Macaigne), controversial for drawing on his real-life celebrity passions, and his suave editor, Alain Danielson (Guillaume Canet), who is fed up with the name-checking and exploitation, and refuses to publish his new manuscript. All the while, Alain is oblivious to the fact that his actress wife, Selena (a winking Juliette Binoche), has been having an affair with Léonard for six years.

Alain, after all, is distracted: increasingly anxious about the changing industry, he is seduced out of middle-age complacency by Laure (Christa Théret), the young, hyperarticulate head of digital transitioning at his publishing house. And in no time, Léonard, Alain, Selena and Laure find their words — and their bedsheets — a tangled mess.

“Non-Fiction” opens on Friday, May 3, in New York and May 10 in Los Angeles, followed by a national rollout. KATHRYN SHATTUCK

Pop Music: Cher at Barclays Center

May 2; ticketmaster.com

There are pop stars, and there are pop supergiants. With a music career going back nearly six decades, award-winning appearances in films alongside Meryl Streep, Nicolas Cage and others, and recent recognition by the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Cher — with whom the world has long been on a first-name basis — certainly qualifies for the latter category.

Lately, the singer has stepped back from original music to pay homage to some Swedish pop phenoms whose longevity rivals her own. Last fall, she released a studio album, “Dancing Queen,” made up entirely of ABBA songs, and appeared in the film “Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again,” the sequel to the ABBA jukebox musical “Mamma Mia!” Cher has taken her tribute on the road with her “Here We Go Again” tour, which stops in Brooklyn on Thursday night. Expect this 72-year-old to perform a handful of covers, like “Waterloo” and “S.O.S.,” as well as her own classics, like “Believe.” OLIVIA HORN

Art: The Can-Can in Color

Through Aug. 4; mfa.org

An argument could be made that our image-obsessed celebrity culture reached its aesthetic peak more than a hundred years ago in Paris. Color lithography was a fresh new process, and the walls of Montmartre were plastered with graphic advertisements for music-hall dancers, many of them designed by a louche aristocrat and prolific artist named Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901). His way with a silhouette — the knack he had of capturing a person’s whole character and affect in the shape of a nose or chin — let him add unparalleled depth and specificity to flat, Japanese-style pictures that read clearly from down the street. Mounted by the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in collaboration with the Boston Public Library, “Toulouse-Lautrec and the Stars of Paris” includes hundreds of the paintings, posters and lesser-known drawings in which the artist immortalized the night life that has inspired many an English and American daydream. WILL HEINRICH

Theater: ‘42nd Street,’ on the Big Screen, Briefly

May 1; fathomevents.com

“By tomorrow night, I’ll either have a live leading lady or a dead chorus girl.” Such a delectably bloodless pronouncement, and when the director Julian Marsh utters it in “42nd Street,” only 36 hours remain before the opening of his musical “Pretty Lady” on Broadway. That’s all the time the young triple threat Peggy Sawyer has to learn the part after the star, Dorothy Brock, is injured.

Lavish glamour and bounteous tap rightly wowed critics at the recent revival of the show in London’s West End, directed by Mark Bramble, one of its writers, who died in February. Now American audiences can catch that production on hundreds of big screens across the country, in a one-day event on Wednesday, May 1. Starring Clare Halse as Peggy, Bonnie Langford as Dorothy and Tom Lister as Julian, it’s also coming soon to the streaming service BroadwayHD, with the exact date to be announced. LAURA COLLINS-HUGHES

Classical Music: Young Musicians at Carnegie

May 1 and 2; carnegiehall.org

If Michael Tilson Thomas’s work with the San Francisco Symphony became less adventurous in his final years as music director there, it may be because he already had the New World Symphony available as a kind of musical playground. The Miami-based orchestral academy for young musicians arrives at Carnegie Hall this week to perform two programs that insightfully balance the old and the new, as part of Tilson Thomas’s curation of Carnegie’s Perspectives series. Wednesday’s concert features Yuja Wang in Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 5 and Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, but also the New York premiere of “Fountain of Youth,” a new work by Julia Wolfe. Perhaps more intriguingly, Thursday’s program features Wang as well as the soprano Measha Brueggergosman in rarely heard music composed by Tilson Thomas himself. WILLIAM ROBIN

TV: Innocence Lost in ‘At the Heart of Gold’

May 3; hbo.com

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” When that sentence — written by Larry Nassar — was read aloud during his sentencing for multiple counts of sexual abuse, courtroom spectators gasped.

“The line really says it all,” Judge Rosemarie Aquilina said later about Nassar, the former doctor for U.S.A. Gymnastics and Michigan State University. “He has no respect for women.”

Pain. Outrage. Incomprehension. And finally, hope: Those are the emotions Erin Lee Carr churns up in her documentary chronicling the abuse Nassar inflicted on victims in the guise of therapy — and the inaction of parents, coaches and officials who chose not to believe them. Or not to care. More than 150 women spoke at his sentencing hearing; the number of accusers exceeds 250.

The survivors in “At the Heart of Gold: Inside the USA Gymnastics Scandal” are steadfast and brave — among them, Rachael Denhollander, the first woman to formally accuse Nassar; the Olympic gold medalist Aly Raisman; and Trinea Gonczar, a former gymnast and longtime family friend of Nassar’s who says at the hearing that she was abused by him some 800 times.

“Wow — what have you done?” a tearful Gonczar asks Nassar as she reads her victim-impact statement. It’s the first time in the case that Nassar, who is ultimately sentenced to up to 175 years in prison, cries.

“At the Heart of Gold” will also run May 3-9 at the Laemmle Playhouse in Pasadena, Calif., and May 10-16 at the Cinema Village in New York. KATHRYN SHATTUCK

Dance: Conversing with Merce Cunningham

May 3-4; nyuskirball.org

Just because his 100th birthday has passed — observed with the breathtaking multicity event “Night of 100 Solos” — doesn’t mean we are done celebrating Merce Cunningham or contemplating his vast legacy. The year of his centennial continues with “In Conversation with Merce,” an evening of new works by three contemporary choreographers: Moriah Evans, Mina Nishimura and Netta Yerushalmy.

Presented by N.Y.U. Skirball and organized by Rashaun Mitchell, a former member of Cunningham’s company, the program features each artist exploring her connections to Cunningham. In “Hi, Merce! I Have a Question,” Ms. Nishimura reflects on her time as an international student at the Cunningham school, considering its relationship to her current methods. Ms. Yerushalmy assembles a cast of 17 for a piece inspired by 100 single movements from the Cunningham repertoire. And Ms. Evans works with three male dancers: Cyril Baldy, Silas Riener and Carlo Antonio Villanueva. The program also features Cunningham pieces performed by Keith Sabado and Shayla-Vie Jenkins. SIOBHAN BURKE

#entertainment news nigeria #entertainment news reporter jobs #entertainment news upi #entertainment news videos online #entertainment news you #entertainmentindustry

0 notes

thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

Video

youtube

CARLY RAE JEPSEN - CUT TO THE FEELING [7.40] Take us to the "Feeling"...

Will Adams: For a year whose first half has been dire in terms of its pop music -- between Katy Perry's hamfisted attempts at swagger and seriousness, Ed Sheeran's turgid reduction of R&B, the One Direction boys flailing about, everything else blurring into one dreary headache -- "Cut to the Feeling" feels practically beamed from the heavens. It wastes no time cutting to its own feeling, a starburst chorus of unabashed emotion and confetti. It's quintessentially Carly, and it's a breath of fresh air. [9]

Ryo Miyauchi: My, what a classic Carly Rae Jepsen chorus: hitting with the boom of a jet engine, it's the indestructible space where she can confess it all, even if she ends up sounding like she wants a little too much. Now only if everything leading to it gambled with the same risk. [6]

Alfred Soto: "I wanna wake up with you all in tangles, oh!" is a pop lyric for our times, worthy of a caffeinated chorus into which Carly Rae Jepsen pours a half decade's worth of lived euphoria -- after all, isn't "cut to the feeling" the Jepsen ethos? The verse melodies didn't grab my ear, though, and after a couple listens "Cut to the Feeling" sounds closer to a b-side than "Cry" did. [6]

Tim de Reuse: Exuberant, glossy, candy-sweet, a pleasantly meaty arrangement, and a subtly pop-savvy hook; yeah, it's CRJ again, but a cumulative hour and a half of Emotion-related material in recent memory forces a comparison, and this isn't nearly as exciting. Sound design compromises were made to fit this tune seamlessly onto the soundtrack of a summer blockbuster, I imagine; it's not bad within the constraint that the end result sound like ten thousand other things that have come out in the last five years, but I don't know if it would have caught my attention with anyone else's name on it. [6]

Alex Clifton: We all know Carly Rae Jepsen is truly #queenofeverything, and this comeback single proves it. Soundtrack songs can be hit or miss (see "Love Me Like You Do," the dreariest thing Goulding's ever done, vs. the effervescent "Can't Stop the Feeling!") but this transcends both of those. I'm glad that this was left off Emotion, as I'm not sure it would've fit in with that particular set of songs, but this is a hell of a B-side that she saved for us. When she screams "I wanna cut to the feeling!" and her voice breaks, I'm filled with vicious joy and I want to shout it with her -- which is all I can ever ask for pop music. I'm left breathless and needing more. As 2017 gets increasingly darker, I thank the gods every day for Carly Rae Jepsen. [9]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: Humans don't deserve dogs or this planet, and we definitely don't deserve Carly Rae Jepsen, but we have them so let's be grateful. Synthpop summer vibes at their best, and was that a little sample of "Lucky Star" in the intro? Carly Rae Jepsen is audio Zoloft. [10]

Thomas Inskeep: The world is going to shit; every single day brings awful headlines, starting from but not limited to the White House. Things can sometimes feel hopeless. But then Carly Rae Jepsen, the true current queen of pop, surprise-releases 3:26 of pure fucking sunshine. And for those three-and-a-half minutes, things aren't as bad, and might even feel good. "Cut to the Feeling" shimmers with the same ebullience that made Emotion such a perfect pop album from start to finish. This is a car-windows-down summertime singalong, full of joy and light and energy and love. This is exactly what we need from pop right now. This is pure happiness. [10]

Anthony Easton: The production is a giant steam roller, handclaps and kick drums obliterating anything else in the track. It's a good thing that her voice has been so nondescript anyway. It also destroys any sense of eros and any ambivalence. I would like this more if she owned her ambition. An obligation towards joy is as grating as an obligation towards melancholy. Lastly, how do you cut to a feeling when this completely refuses anything human, and doesn't even do anything interesting with the possibility of a production so robotic it could be inhumane? [2]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: As someone whose patience is easily tested by the early, formative stages of a relationship (romantic or otherwise), "Cut To The Feeling" seems terrifyingly unhealthy. It relentlessly provides the sort of delirious joy that I would be content to soak in, completely ignoring the wellspring of "authentic" emotional experience available from repeated interactions with actual people. I often ask myself: can any lived experience truly compete with the stuff I'm feeling from X or Y piece of art? And if so, why even invest in all that energy when a 3 minute pop song comes close enough? The thing is, Carly Rae Jepsen doesn't make music that allows you to be satisfied with what it offers on a strictly musical level. Because in the act of putting ineffable emotions to song, she paints them as the irresistible high they are, and it overflows into an encouragement for you to pursue them yourself. It's no different on "Cut To The Feeling," and Carly has everything here down to a science. I took a look at the numbers, and that chorus really does hit early. Of the 26 officially released songs from the Emotion sessions, "Feeling" gets there the fastest. It's also one of only five tracks to contain a four-bar pre-chorus. Coupled with those pounding drums, the anticipation you have suddenly tumbles into the chorus' contagious energy. It took me by surprise on first listen, and the best thing I can say about the transition is that it feels like a natural representation of unforced euphoria. And Carly's a killer pop star because she knows how to transfer that experience with complete, relatable authenticity. "Cut To The Feeling" is a song about finding the value in a certain end goal and making conscious steps to reach it. That this song makes me want to do just that in my own life is a blessing, and for Carly I am grateful. [10]

Katherine St Asaph: The natural endpoint of Emotion's maximalism: an intro of "Lucky Star" and Cinderella glitter, a metaphor as evocative of cinema as slicing through bone, a chorus that sends Carly's voice into overdrive and pastiches about three different A*Teens songs. It's almost enough to make you ignore the fact that she forgot to write a pre-chorus. [6]

Jonathan Bradley: She wants to get straight to the good bit, and that goes double for the composition: "Cut to the Feeling" procrastinates through its verses. Jepsen is in these moments not an overwhelming melodic and emotional force; she hangs back as the track centers on its heart-thump boom of a kick drum, sidelined from her own tune. The good bit though; oh my gosh, it's good. As with "I Really Like You," Jepsen wants to go too far too fast, but she was bashful there, and here she charges into her desire. Smashes of synth and guitar launch her "I wanna..." out of daydream and into the literal: cut, and now she is dancing on the roof, now she is waking up intertwined with you, now she is playing where angels play. [8]

Edward Okulicz: Somewhere in my DNA there must be a mutation that makes me immune to Carly Rae Jepsen songs that by all rights should send me into fits of high rapture. I hear the delicious ingredients -- an irresistible beat for fist-pumping or banging on the dashboard, a clever nick from the intro to "Lucky Star," and a plenty-vibrant vocal performance -- and some of the lyrics are tingly and evocative. But those verses are spinning their wheels instead of doing tricks over the terrain, the pre-chorus "aaah"s must be placeholders and the chorus is a fine description of euphoria, but I don't feel that euphoria. [6]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Liking Carly Rae Jepsen is an ugly business. The songs are never that bad, they're usually very pretty and still maintain an earnestness that everyone loves. But with her continued edging around the traditions of linear career momentum (I think doing a Broadway Cinderella musical was honestly more appreciable in my mind than her being a critical darling headlining music festivals but not actually doing fuck all as far as radio airplay) the divisions among who "THE REAL CRJ FANS" are is getting a bit strenuous. "Cut to the Feeling" having a hint of controversy because it makes people argue this "Kiss vs. Emotion" debate is shocking because yes, it's an okay Carly Rae cut (which let's be honest, that's all the B-Sides record so many of us appreciated really contained, and there's a lot more of those than we like to pretend). But the biggest irony is that Jepsen is sampling Madonna... by this point in her career Madonna was making True Blue. If you ask the real world, the world outside people who become super passionate about the songs the big bad world doesn't touch? She's barely Debbie G. [6]

Stephen Eisermann: I've spent a lot of time wondering what everybody's fascination with Carly Rae Jepsen stems from. After spending more time with her last LP than I ever cared to, I was left just as dumbfounded as the first time I spun it. With this song, I think I finally get it. I don't agree with it, but I get it. What I said about J Hus applies here: Carly fucking commits. It's so hard not to be infected by her happiness and infatuation during the first verse, similar to how it's hard not to want to dance while listening to "I Wanna Dance With Somebody." Unfortunately, though, the infatuation this song infects me with is short lived, because the strain on her voice in the higher parts of the chorus sober me up real quick. Imagine crushing hard on someone for, like, a week and making up pet names and stuff only to realize the crush is a good friend of your ex. It's all heart eyes and winky faces until it's not, and this is definitely not. [3]

Ian Mathers: This is great, but I guess where I'm at is I just don't get the people who think its quality means it's weird that beloved national treasure Jepsen isn't a bigger star. Far as I can tell highest this has charted is #68 (in Scotland!), and it feels to me like it's a great example of some modern, non-rock based equivalent to power pop -- absolutely beloved by its fans and well regarded critically, and failing utterly to get wider traction for reasons that baffle us but will never change. I'd be thrilled to be wrong, but our girl feels distinctly subcultural at this point. [8]

Eleanor Graham: CRJ's lyrical genius stems from her respect for the nameless. It reminds me of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf: "I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn't even feel it. And yet I believe you'll be sensible of a little gap. But you'd clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality." That elementary, naked phrase, "cut to the feeling," does exactly what is stated. Like "take me to the feeling" and "all that we could do with this emotion" before it, the line captures the very essence of the thing without caring to elaborate. And loses nothing of its reality. What a gift. [8]

Juana Giaimo: What makes the songs of Emotion so especial is, as Andrew Ryce put it in 2015, that each of them "takes a different feeling and makes it seem like the most important thing in the world." "Cut to the Feeling" also fits this idea, since it's from the same era. This is the time to scream out loud your shameless devotion to your emotions, or as the lyrics say, "I want it all or nothing; no more in-between." The only purpose of the verses' tension is to serve the explosion of the chorus. There is a sense of urgency that saturates the whole song -- there is no time for subtle flirting -- that is joined by a certain dreaminess, resulting in a song that is looking to go beyond reality -- because isn't finding the one you want beyond reality too? [8]

William John: I'm not entirely sure when it was that my cynical attitude as to whether we needed yet another treatise on ebullience from Carly Rae Jepsen dissipated -- either at the moment the first chorus of "Cut To The Feeling" hits, not so much with any conventional lead-in or slow build, but as though a freight train has arrived early, or upon hearing the somersaulting "whoops" peppered throughout the choruses, serving as metonymy for the overarching sheer delight. Either way, by the end of the song my doubts had been long washed away by Jepsen's wide-eyed elation. If anything, I'd been convinced that too much sincere effervescence is never enough. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I write this blurb after checking the news: another attack, another death, another headline blaming innocents. At this point, I don't feel outrage so much as exhaustion; I am old, and tired, and perhaps this is just the world we live in now; this is reality. And then there's the spin-up of the intro, the drums kicking in, Carly's exuberance infectious. It makes me feel like I'm 17, but not the 17 year-old I actually was (stressed, rushing to class, afraid I wouldn't Make It, whatever making it meant); some idealized 17 where dreams really do come true. It's a rush of joy, the feeling of flooring it on the 5, of your life and your future opening up before you. It's the aural equivalent of the feeling of the sun on my face and the thin blue line of the Pacific in the corner of my vision. This is Jepsen's greatest strength as an artist: conveying emotions in bright colors, all in on life. [9]

Will Rivitz: You know the "Band Geeks" episode of Spongebob? Where, after enduring about nine minutes and thirty seconds of aggression and humiliation from his nemesis Squilliam, Squidward enjoys a massive rush of schadenfreude as his motley band of Bikini Bottom ne'er-do-wells pulls off a glorious '80s power ballad to conclude the episode? "Cut To The Feeling" is "Sweet Victory" minus the comeuppance. It's the audio equivalent of powersliding to the front of the stage as a bitchin' guitar solo mirrors every motion of your exultation, except instead of guitars it's synths as big and bright as the sun. This is Jem and the Holograms, this is a Sailor Moon transformation sequence. It's "Run Away With Me" but completely different, except the point of both is exactly the same. Carly Rae is a savant with respect to many parts of pop, but perhaps her most satisfying trick is her ability to kickstart the most vivid sprints through euphoria I've ever heard. "Cut To The Feeling" is the perfect name for this song; I've rarely felt The Feeling so immediately and tangibly present. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Carly Rae Jepsen #Cut To The Feeling #TSJ Best of 2017

3 notes · View notes

babylon-bitch · 7 years

Text

Just Friends (part 19)

The day has finally come, it’s a bitter sweet moment. I’m excited to go home and see Luke, but I’m also really sad to be leaving my family. My brothers and Evie have gone back to University and Anna and Mark are flying out next week.

We all said our goodbyes this morning, there were some tears and confused children. They didn’t have a clue that we were going back home.

Where is home? We come from England so does that make it home? Or is my home back in australia home?

I’ve just come off a 23 hour flight, the flight got delayed for a while. I just did my makeup quickly in the car, we are like 10 minutes away from our house. I probably look awful right now, even if I did do my makeup.

I’ve got a black hoodie on with the hood up, my hair in a shitty attempt of a bun. I’m in all black representing my mood. My arse is so fucking sore from sitting down for a long time.

“Harper, why have you done your makeup if you are going to sleep?” My mum tiredly asks.

“Ah shit yeah, well I only put concealer, mascara, and blush on.” I realise.

Pulling into the driveway, I quickly jump out and stretch. Looking up the road at Luke’s house. All lights are off, understandablely because it is like three or four in the morning.

Everything seems so peaceful at night.

“Come on.” My dad nags.

“Sorry I was daydreaming.”

Walking through the familiar door and go straight to my not bothering with my bags.

Taking my shoes off and not bothering to take my clothes off or makeup, I flop onto my bed that I oh so missed and think back on the whole trip.

Luke and I had an argument, then confessed our feeling for each other. We kissed, then made out, got rudely inturrupted and awkwardly played it off, next day, almost fucked, again, got interrupted, made out in the elevator, and then that was the last kiss, besides a kiss on the cheek.

We then flew back to England for Christmas. Where I spent loads of time catching up with people. Christmas was fun, excitable children were funny to see, had the Christmas lunch/dinner (linner), spent the rest of the evening playing games and I spoke to Luke.

The next couple of days were the build up to new years day. We didn’t do much, just ate and hung out.

That was about it, it was a very chill visit.

Sleep taking over my body as I think about the memories.

An annoying sound of my alarm goes off and I go to turn it off with my eyes closed until I smash my wrist at the corner. “SHIT.” I shout and groan.

Immediately opening my eyes, I see blood seeping out of it already. My bedside table has a really sharp corner, and I have blood on it from similar accidents like this.

My mum burst through the door, confusion plastered on her face. “Are you alright?” She quickly asks.

“Yeah, I just stabbed myself. Again.” I sigh.

“We really should get you a new one.” She says more to herself than anyone.

“Well, as I’m wide awake now, I should get up.” I shrug.

Going into the bathroom and cleaning up my wrist. Putting a plaster on the cut, I walk out and rub my eyes.

It’s like 10 or something so I get dressed. Forgetting about the Australian heat, as I’m sweating in a hoodie and jeans.

Changing into a black t-shirt crop top and some light blue/grey shorts, slipping on some black vans. Doing my normal makeup routine and hair routine I’m all ready.

Jogging down the stairs and make my way through to the kitchen. “Morning.” I chirp.

“Why are you so happy?” My dad chuckles.

“I’m excited to see my friends.” I grin.

Speaking of which I should probably text them. Going onto the group chat and I start texting.

I’m home, your life just got better now.

M: one of my favourite bitches is back!

Me: ✌

A: welcome home.

E: ‘ello Gov'nor

C: I’m Batman

Me: wtf

L: here’s Johnny!

Me: the only normal hello I got was from Ash ???

M: just injecting some fun into your life.

C: okay, how about we meet up later and say a proper hello

E: and I’ll act as if I care about how you are 😄

Me: fuck you Evie

I chuckle and put my phone down. “Thanks.” I smile as my mum places a bowl of porridge in front of me.

My phone starts to ring as I’m about to take a bite. Looking at the caller ID, I see its Luke. “Hey.” He speaks.

“What’s up?” I smile even though he can’t hear me.

“Do you wanna meet up before seeing the others?” I hear the smirk in his voice.

“Did you even have to ask.” I lightly chuckle.

“True, my parents are out.”

“I’ll be over in half an hour or something.”

“Looking forward to it.” He says.

“You better have a plan, if the boys come over or something.” I warn.

“I can think of one whilst I wait.” He tells me.

“Okay, bye then.”

“Bye.” He repeats.

A while later, I’m all ready. I’m mean I was already ready, but I ate breakfast then watched some YouTube for a while. Oops.

“I’m going to Luke’s.” I call to anyone as I walk out the door.

Walking down the driveway and up the road, or down the road, depends how you look at it.

Knocking on Luke’s door because I forgot my keys as I was in such a rush.

Couple of moments later the door opens. “Hi.” Luke grins and pulls me into a hug.

“How’ve you been?” I ask as he closes the door.

“Good, missed you though.” He answers.

Luke takes my hand and leads me up the stairs and into his bedroom. “How much did you miss me?” I question.

“A lot.” He whispers as he places his hands on my waist. “So fucking much babe.” Luke whispers in my ear.

“What did you miss most?” I question as I wrap my my arm around his neck.

“Your body and lips.” He smirks.

“Yeah?” I breath.

“Uh huh.” He says looking down at my lips.

We look into each other’s eyes, for reassurance and just to see if we’re both okay with this.

Luke connects our lips together, the taste I’ve been craving ever since Dubai coming back.

Our lips moving perfectly together, starting off sweetly and becoming hungrier for each other by the second. I tangle my fingers into his hair making him groan slightly.

Luke pushes us towards his bed, lips not breaking apart. Luke pushes his body up against mine, his hands trailing down to my hips and giving them a little squeeze. We pull apart and I look up into his blue eyes, breathes mingling. “I love you.” He blurts out.

“Love you too.” I immediately reply back with.

Luke pushes me down onto his bed and he crawls on top of me. He presses our lips together and slides his tongue in.

I pull back and start kissing up his jaw earning a moan from him and I smirk against his skin.

“Harper.” He breaths out my name.

Luke takes control and kisses down my neck, he sucks on a spot and I moan out and I feel him smirk. “You wanna do it without a interruptions this time?” Luke warily asks.

“Yeah.” I peck his lips.

“Sure?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Shut up and just fuck me.” I grow impatient.

“Eager are we.” Luke teases.

“Well yeah, if your going to unbutton your shirt agonisingly slowly.” I whine.

I watch as he straddles me and unbuttons his flannel shirt. “Thats better.” I grin.

I repeat him by taking my shirt off, revealing my black bra. “Again, I have to say, damn Harps.” He chuckles.

Soon enough we are both naked.

Do I need to explain what happened next?

***

Luke rolls off me as we come down from our highs, breathing heavy. “Shit that was good.” Luke says.

“Agreed.” I tell him.

“Round two?” He jokes and I laugh.

“Idiot.” I tease.

“Wait what was that?” Luke places his hand on my arm.

We listen quietly and here knocking. “Get dressed quickly!” I order.

I put my underwear on that was discarded earlier. I look up and see look staring at me whilst putting his trousers on. “Stop staring and get dressed.” I scold.

“But your pretty.” He whines.

I fight a blush and carry on putting my clothes on.

Moments later I’m all dressed and Luke is just sorting his hair out. “Ready?” I question.

“No.” He drags out in concentration.

“Hurry up.”

“The quiff doesn’t do this on its own, plus your the one that fucked it up.” He tells me.

Once he’s done he takes my hand and walks us downstairs. “Harper! The hickeys!” Luke whisper yells.

“Fuck! Hold on.” I say as I reach into my bag for some foundation.

“Here.” I rub in the foundation on the hickeys. The foundation strangely matches Luke’s skin tone.

A couple knocks later, we are all covered up and there is no evidence.

Luke opens the door and everyone walks in. “About fucking time!” Michael groans.

“Harper!” Erika shrieks as she hugs me.

“Fuck Erika!” Calum says as he sticks his finger in his ear.

“Missed you.” I giggle as I hug Erika back.

“What took you guys so long?” Ashton questions in annoyance.

Luke looks at me fighting the urge to smirk. “We were in the garden.” Luke covers.

“Yeah.” I add.

“Whatever.” Calum mumbles and pulls me into a hug.

We all hug and greet each other, I’ve missed them all. To be honest I wasn’t gone that long, but we are pretty much always together. “I loved the song you did with your friends.” Calum smiles.

“Thanks. It was nice catching up with them.” I think back on the memories we had together.

“How come you never told us about them?” Erika questions.

“They’re criminals, and if I ever told anyone about them I would be brutally murdered by them. No, but your faces, we aren’t exactly that close, I mean we text at least once a fortnight or month. Their old school friends and I don’t see them often, I can’t really be close to them.” I admit.

“Oh, tell me a fact about them.” Michael says.

“Um okay… Delilah the one playing the guitar, err, is bisexual, and Laura is claustrophobic.” I tell them.

“Cool.” Ashton giggles.

“Anymore friends you’ve been hiding?” Luke jokes.

“Probably.” I shrug.

“What?” A confused Michael asks.

“I’m not losers like you, who only has a couple of friends.” I chuckle.

“Rude.” Calum purses his lips.

“What do you want to do?” Erika asks.

“I’m hungry, so does anyone wanna get food with me?” Luke offers.

“Sure.” Ashton gets up from his seat.

Soon enough we are all on our way out for a place to eat. Everyone is a few steps in front of Luke and I. “I mean we still got interrupted, but not entirely.” I admit.

“True.” He says as he puts his arm over my shoulder.

“Love you.” I smile as I look up at him.

“Love you too.” He chuckles and kisses my head.

A bit later, we’ve found a place to eat. We walk in and go into a booth, Luke and I sitting next to each other. “11 o'clock.” I whisper to Erika.

“What?”

“Your eleven.” I whisper yell.

“Again, what? It like 1.” Erika stupidly says.

“You’re an idiot.” I facepalm. “Look at the table diagonal to us.” I explain.

“Oh.” She drags out.

There is a table full of young girls giggling and taking pictures of us.

***

It’s just Luke and I, we are at his house, just messing around. “Your so cute.” He adores.

“Right back at you.”

I jump up and sit on the kitchen counter, taking a sip of my juice box.

Luke walks up to me and spreads my legs apart, stepping inside. He places his hands on my thighs and I place my forearms on his shoulders, looking down into his blue orbs. “Follow me.” He softly speaks.

“Where?” I question.

“Just follow me.”

Luke takes a step back and I jump down. He intertwines our fingers and drags me out of the house.

10 - 15 minutes later Luke takes me to a place we used to come when we were younger. Another one of our secret places. “Shit I forgot about this.” I chuckle.

It’s a huge empty field with a perfectly rounded sycamore tree in the middle. It’s so pretty here, we used to spend hours laying under and climbing that tree. Luke takes my hand and drags me over to the tree.

I lay down and Luke copies my actions.

After 10 minutes of silence Luke speaks up. “Harper?”

“Yeah?” I hum.

Luke presses his lips against mine, very tenderly and passionately. He pulls me on top of him, lips not disconnecting.

I peck his lips a couple of times and he just smiles as I do.

Rolling off him and back onto the grass. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” Luke blurts out.

I look over at him, and he is staring at me, anticipation written all over his face. I smile and kiss him.

I kiss him for a couple of moments. “Of course, I love you.” I answer and his face breaks into a huge grin.

“I love you too.” He grins and pecks my lips.

God it feels good to hear him say those words.

“Ya know, I never would of thought I would be dating my best friend.” Luke chuckles.

“Me either, but, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Agreed.”

Luke hugs me and kisses my shoulder. I get up and start climbing the tree. “Coming?” I question.

“Last time I did, I almost fell out.” Luke mumbles as he climbs up and sits on the branch with me.

We are quite high up, a beautiful view of the sunset.

The amount off accidents that’s happened in this tree. I fell out once and broke my collarbone, Luke fell off a branch and broke his arm. I’ve fractured a finger as well.

“If I break a bone or at least injure myself, even scratch myself, I’m blaming you.” Luke warns.

“Okay, but still to this day, I’m still blaming you for breaking my collarbone.” I shrug.

“I didn’t do it!” He denies.

“Then who did? A ghost?” I give him ‘the look’

“No, you fell out of a tree.”

“Because you pushed me!”

“I can do it again if you want.”

I just flip him off and continue to look at the sunset.

“I know it’s not the most romantic way, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” Luke sighs.

“What?” I furrow my eyebrows.

“The way I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh, no it is romantic. You took me to a special place of ours, I’d much rather have this over a dinner or something. I’ve never really been into romantic stuff anyway.” I reason.

“Your special.” He smiles down at me.

“Wouldn’t want to be any other way.”

***

We stayed there for a while, now we’re all at Michael’s house, playing table tennis.

Not really keeping a score just playing and talking, when one gets bored another will play.

I’m quite tired, jetlag and all that. I’ve got my head rested on Luke’s broad shoulder and his arm is wrapped around my waist. “Anyone got a lighter?” I ask.

“Why do you need a lighter?” Ash asks.

“Because I like blowing things up.” I shrug.

“Here.” Erika chucks me a lighter off of the table, I don’t know who’s it is.

It’s nearly emty, just right. Standing up, I walk out of the garage door. Throwing the lighter down it explodes.

“Well that was underwhelming.” Calum laughs.

“Yeah.” I say. “Well I’m going to go home, I’m tired and hungry. See you guys later.” I tell them.

“Harps!” Michael whines.

“Sorry, but talk to me when you came off a 23 hour flight, then stayed awake most of the day.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Calum smiles pulling me into a hug.

“Bye.” I say as we pull back.

We all hug and say our goodbyes besides Luke. “Bye.” I smile.

Luke looks behind me and pecks my lips quickly. “Bye.” He grins and hugs me, kissing my shoulder as we pull back.

“I’ll text you losers later.” I tease as I pick up my long shoulder strap bag and putting it on my shoulder.

“Bye.”

Luke’s pov

I watch as she walks off, her bag hitting her thigh as she walks.

I’m so in love right now.

“You two seem close.” Ashton wiggles his eyebrow up and down.

“Shut up, we’re just friends, honestly.” Fuck that hurts to say.

“I swear I heard kissing going on when they hugged.” Michael claims.

“No you didn’t.” I deny, trying to hide a grin.

“Look at his smile! They totally did.” Calum laughs.

“We aren’t anything more than friends, you probably heard me kissing me her cheek or something.” I dismiss.

“Whatever you say Luke.” Erika teases.

“I’m gonna go home because you guys keep teasing me.” I say like a child.

“Aww bye mummys boy!” Ashton calls.

I flip him off as I walk off.

She’s been gone not even ten minutes, and I’m craving her already.

Today’s been a great day, duccessful too.

I was so worried she was going to say no when I asked her out, because it took her a good few seconds, before she did anything.

When we were in the kitchen I couldn’t wait any longer, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I didn’t think it was very romantic, but she thought differently.

I’m not into all the romantic stuff, nor am I very good at it

10 notes · View notes

aurriii · 4 years

Text

10 Books That Will Transport You To The Beach If You Can’t Go IRL

Maybe you’re social distancing. Maybe all of your friends are. Maybe your funds are tight. Many of us have a good reason our summer is not quite like summers of our past. We miss the waves just as much as the next person not within walking distance to the ocean, so we’ve compiled a list of books where we can all escape to a far away island or beach town, no sunscreen needed. Or hey, lather it on. We’re not opposed to a little sensory enhancement.

Click on book in slideshow to see it’s lowest price

Big Summer: A Novel

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

28 Summers by Elin Hilderbrand

The Vacationers By Emma Straub

The Jetsetters: A Novel By Amanda Eyre Ward

The Guest List: A Novel By Lucy Foley

Beach Read By Emily Henry

Sex and Vanity: A Novel By Kevin Kwan

Hello, Summer By Mary Kay Andrews

The Summer Set Aimee Agresti

1. Big Summer: A Novel

by Jennifer Weiner

Six years after the fight that ended their friendship, Daphne Berg is shocked when Drue Cavanaugh walks back into her life, looking as lovely and successful as ever, with a massive favor to ask. Daphne hasn’t spoken one word to Drue in all this time—she doesn’t even hate-follow her ex-best friend on social media—so when Drue asks if she will be her maid-of-honor at the society wedding of the summer, Daphne is rightfully speechless.

Drue was always the one who had everything—except the ability to hold onto friends. Meanwhile, Daphne’s no longer the same self-effacing sidekick she was back in high school. She’s built a life that she loves, including a growing career as a plus-size Instagram influencer. Letting glamorous, seductive Drue back into her life is risky, but it comes with an invitation to spend a weekend in a waterfront Cape Cod mansion. When Drue begs and pleads and dangles the prospect of cute single guys, Daphne finds herself powerless as ever to resist her friend’s siren song.

A sparkling novel about the complexities of female relationships, the pitfalls of living out loud and online, and the resilience of the human heart, Big Summer is a witty, moving story about family, friendship, and figuring out what matters most.

Source: Publisher

2. Beautiful Ruins

by Jess Walter

The story begins in 1962. On a rocky patch of the sun-drenched Italian coastline, a young innkeeper, chest-deep in daydreams, looks out over the incandescent waters of the Ligurian Sea and spies an apparition: a tall, thin woman, a vision in white, approaching him on a boat. She is an actress, he soon learns, an American starlet, and she is dying. And the story begins again today, half a world away, when an elderly Italian man shows up on a movie studio’s back lot, searching for the mysterious woman he last saw at his hotel decades earlier. What unfolds is a dazzling, yet deeply human, roller coaster of a novel, spanning fifty years and nearly as many lives. From the lavish set of Cleopatra to the shabby revelry of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Walter introduces us to the tangled lives of a dozen unforgettable characters: the starstruck Italian innkeeper and his long-lost love; the heroically preserved producer who once brought them together and his idealistic young assistant; the army veteran turned fledgling novelist and the rakish Richard Burton himself, whose appetites set the whole story in motion, along with the husbands and wives, lovers and dreamers, superstars and losers, who populate their world in the decades that follow. Gloriously inventive, constantly surprising, Beautiful Ruins is a story of flawed yet fascinating people, navigating the rocky shores of their lives while clinging to their improbable dreams.

Source: Publisher

3. 28 Summers

by Elin Hilderbrand

A “captivating and bittersweet” novel by the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Summer of ’69: Their secret love affair has lasted for decades — but this could be the summer that changes everything (People). When Mallory Blessing’s son, Link, receives deathbed instructions from his mother to call a number on a slip of paper in her desk drawer, he’s not sure what to expect. But he certainly does not expect Jake McCloud to answer. It’s the late spring of 2020 and Jake’s wife, Ursula DeGournsey, is the frontrunner in the upcoming Presidential election. There must be a mistake, Link thinks. How do Mallory and Jake know each other? Flash back to the sweet summer of 1993: Mallory has just inherited a beachfront cottage on Nantucket from her aunt, and she agrees to host her brother’s bachelor party. Cooper’s friend from college, Jake McCloud, attends, and Jake and Mallory form a bond that will persevere — through marriage, children, and Ursula’s stratospheric political rise — until Mallory learns she’s dying. Based on the classic film Same Time Next Year (which Mallory and Jake watch every summer), 28 Summers explores the agony and romance of a one-weekend-per-year affair and the dramatic ways this relationship complicates and enriches their lives, and the lives of the people they love.

Source: Publisher

4. The Vacationers

By Emma Straub

For the Posts, a two-week trip to the Balearic island of Mallorca with their extended family and friends is a celebration: Franny and Jim are observing their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, and their daughter, Sylvia, has graduated from high school. The sunlit island, its mountains and beaches, its tapas and tennis courts, also promise an escape from the tensions simmering at home in Manhattan. But all does not go according to plan: over the course of the vacation, secrets come to light, old and new humiliations are experienced, childhood rivalries resurface, and ancient wounds are exacerbated.

This is a story of the sides of ourselves that we choose to show and those we try to conceal, of the ways we tear each other down and build each other up again, and the bonds that ultimately hold us together. With wry humor and tremendous heart, Emma Straub delivers a richly satisfying story of a family in the midst of a maelstrom of change, emerging irrevocably altered yet whole.

Source: Publisher

5. The Jetsetters: A Novel

By Amanda Eyre Ward

When seventy-year-old Charlotte Perkins submits a sexy essay to the Become a Jetsetter contest, she dreams of reuniting her estranged children: Lee, an almost-famous actress; Cord, a handsome Manhattan venture capitalist who can’t seem to find a partner; and Regan, a harried mother who took it all wrong when Charlotte bought her a Weight Watchers gift certificate for her birthday. Charlotte yearns for the years when her children were young, when she was a single mother who meant everything to them.

When she wins the contest, the family packs their baggage—both literal and figurative—and spends ten days traveling from sun-drenched Athens through glorious Rome to tapas-laden Barcelona on an over-the-top cruise ship, the Splendido Marveloso. As lovers new and old join the adventure, long-buried secrets are revealed and old wounds are reopened, forcing the Perkins family to confront the forces that drove them apart and the defining choices of their lives.

Can four lost adults find the peace they’ve been seeking by reconciling their childhood aches and coming back together? In the vein of The Nest and The Vacationers, The Jetsetters is a delicious and intelligent novel about the courage it takes to reveal our true selves, the pleasures and perils of family, and how we navigate the seas of adulthood.

Source: Publisher

6. The Guest List: A Novel

By Lucy Foley

A wedding celebration turns dark and deadly in this deliciously wicked and atmospheric thriller reminiscent of Agatha Christie from the New York Times bestselling author of The Hunting Party.

The bride – The plus one – The best man – The wedding planner – The bridesmaid – The body

On an island off the coast of Ireland, guests gather to celebrate two people joining their lives together as one. The groom: handsome and charming, a rising television star. The bride: smart and ambitious, a magazine publisher. It’s a wedding for a magazine, or for a celebrity: the designer dress, the remote location, the luxe party favors, the boutique whiskey. The cell phone service may be spotty and the waves may be rough, but every detail has been expertly planned and will be expertly executed.

But perfection is for plans, and people are all too human. As the champagne is popped and the festivities begin, resentments and petty jealousies begin to mingle with the reminiscences and well wishes. The groomsmen begin the drinking game from their school days. The bridesmaid not-so-accidentally ruins her dress. The bride’s oldest (male) friend gives an uncomfortably caring toast.

And then someone turns up dead. Who didn’t wish the happy couple well? And perhaps more important, why?

Source: Publisher

7. Beach Read

By Emily Henry

They’re polar opposites.

In fact, the only thing they have in common is that for the next three months, they’re living in neighboring beach houses, broke, and bogged down with writer’s block.

Until, one hazy evening, one thing leads to another and they strike a deal designed to force them out of their creative ruts: Augustus will spend the summer writing something happy, and January will pen the next Great American Novel. She’ll take him on field trips worthy of any rom-com montage, and he’ll take her to interview surviving members of a backwoods death cult (obviously). Everyone will finish a book and no one will fall in love. Really.

Source: Publisher

8. Sex and Vanity: A Novel

By Kevin Kwan

The iconic author of the bestselling phenomenon Crazy Rich Asians returns with the glittering tale of a young woman who finds herself torn between two men: the WASPY fiancé of her family’s dreams and George Zao, the man she is desperately trying to avoid falling in love with.

On her very first morning on the jewel-like island of Capri, Lucie Churchill sets eyes on George Zao and she instantly can’t stand him. She can’t stand it when he gallantly offers to trade hotel rooms with her so that she can have a view of the Tyrrhenian Sea, she can’t stand that he knows more about Casa Malaparte than she does, and she really can’t stand it when he kisses her in the darkness of the ancient ruins of a Roman villa and they are caught by her snobbish, disapproving cousin Charlotte. “Your mother is Chinese so it’s no surprise you’d be attracted to someone like him,” Charlotte teases. The daughter of an American-born Chinese mother and a blue-blooded New York father, Lucie has always sublimated the Asian side of herself in favor of the white side, and she adamantly denies having feelings for George. But several years later, when George unexpectedly appears in East Hampton, where Lucie is weekending with her new fiancé, Lucie finds herself drawn to George again. Soon, Lucie is spinning a web of deceit that involves her family, her fiancé, the co-op board of her Fifth Avenue apartment building, and ultimately herself as she tries mightily to deny George entry into her world–and her heart. Moving between summer playgrounds of privilege, peppered with decadent food and extravagant fashion, Sex and Vanity is a truly modern love story, a daring homage to A Room with a View, and a brilliantly funny comedy of manners set between two cultures.

Source: Publisher

9. Hello, Summer

By Mary Kay Andrews

New York Times bestselling author and Queen of the Beach Reads Mary Kay Andrews delivers her next blockbuster, Hello Summer.

It’s a new season…

Conley Hawkins left her family’s small town newspaper, The Silver Bay Beacon, in the rearview mirror years ago. Now a star reporter for a big-city paper, Conley is exactly where she wants to be and is about to take a fancy new position in Washington, D.C. Or so she thinks.

For small town scandals…

When the new job goes up in smoke, Conley finds herself right back where she started, working for her sister, who is trying to keep The Silver Bay Beacon afloat—and she doesn’t exactly have warm feelings for Conley. Soon she is given the unenviable task of overseeing the local gossip column, “Hello, Summer.”

And big-time secrets.

Then Conley witnesses an accident that ends in the death of a local congressman—a beloved war hero with a shady past. The more she digs into the story, the more dangerous it gets. As an old heartbreaker causes trouble and a new flame ignites, it soon looks like their sleepy beach town is the most scandalous hotspot of the summer.

Source: Publisher

10. The Summer Set

Aimee Agresti

Recommended by Glamour * Bustle * Popsugar * Booklist * Playbill

Charlie Savoy was once Hollywood’s hottest A-lister. Now, ten years later, she’s pushing forty, exiled from the film world and back at the summer Shakespeare theater in the Berkshires that launched her career—and where her old flame, Nick, is the artistic director.

It’s not exactly her first choice. But as parts are cast and rehearsals begin, Charlie is surprised to find herself getting her groove back, bonding with celebrity actors, forging unexpected new friendships and even reigniting her spark with Nick, who still seems to bring out the best in her despite their complicated history.

Until Charlie’s old rival, Hollywood’s current It Girl, is brought on set, threatening to undo everything she’s built. As the drama amps up both on the stage and behind the curtains, Charlie must put on the show of a lifetime to fight for the second chance she deserves in career and in love.

“A page-turner set in the intoxicating theater world, The Summer Set considers the price of fame, the power of second chances and the enduring nature of love. A truly enjoyable read!” —Elyssa Friedland, author of The Floating Feldmans

Source: Publisher

from Textbook Case | Bigwords.com https://ift.tt/2DiQWnr via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Textbook Case | Bigwords.com

0 notes

34floorsblog · 7 years

Text

The Original Short Story

A bit edgy, but it still holds up well. Originally written for an 8th grade project. I had the concept long before but a bunch of things were changed to fit it into a one-story format— some that I’m glad to have discovered and am keeping, other that will be reverted back to their original plan. This is mostly for quick reference and to have something to look back on in the future.

Anyways. Here it is:

Final Draft Started March 1 2016 Finished March 10 2016

34 Floors (+ 1 More)

The cars on the streets, beeping with quick, harsh beats, coming to screeching halts and emitting toxic fumes into the air, were nothing but blades of grass in an outfield to her.

None was paid attention to, only the road ahead. A blur. Did she know where she was going? No. But she had to lead these people, these children, into a new life she didn’t want them to become a part of in the first place. And fast.

The crackle of her bike’s tires on its respective lane, almost like that of a real wood fire, was the only noise and even that was only a mere thought in the back of her head.

The air was cold, the sun barely peaking over the gray horizon. It was barely 7:00 am on a Tuesday in November… yet why did it feel like it was August? Oh August, those hot summer days in the city, nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to feel but hot. In fact, now with the “temperature” change, it was basically the same then as it was now. A small voice was heard in the distance, repeating the same pattern of speech over and over and over and over, volume increasing and tone deranging as it went on. There was no time to look back. There was no time. Time, right now, was just how the theorists in the books described it: an illusion. Thoughts ran as fast as the bike was pedaled until that sequence of noises became a sequence of desperate yells. Her vision snapped back to it’s original accuracy as she peered over her shoulder, a mere counterfeit of The Scream biking behind her. She couldn’t see of the other child, who was most likely just behind the one she could see like he was supposed to be, but she didn’t want to. She was mortified. How could she do this to them? They were all she had left.

She repeated the loop yelled by the young face for the final time, but as a question.

“Stop?”

Her face saw the pavement. The back of her bike rose into the air.

Darkness.

The glass door opened with an antique squeak. Paige awoke from her daydream at the assistance counter, frazzled bleach-blond curls waking up as her eyes shot open. Before she knew it, three figures stood before her.

“Why hello there!” she greeted, extending the “hello” longer than needed. “Welcome to 34 Floors Hotel and Suite. How may I assist you today?”

The tallest and seemingly eldest one spoke first.

“We would like a room.”

The older woman’s mouth curled into a smile and promptly pulled out a pen out of seemingly nowhere, scribbling something on a paper on the desk in front of her.

“Alrighty then…. how long will you be staying with us?”

“As long as possible,” the young girl replied, not a hint of insincerity in her voice.

Paige was initially shocked, but then the state of her expression returned to a polite grin as she glanced over to a door on the other side of the room. She then daintily exited the small booth, finally allowing for the three to see her figure. She was extremely thin, almost to the point of concern. Her body held up a white dress down to her knees, slightly dirtied at the tips, with hair exactly the same except mid-back length. She was aged, but the expression on her face showed that her mind thought anything but it. “Peculiar” was one way to put it.

Paige had arrived at the door and disappeared for a moment, leaving the three friends to wait patiently. Awkwardly. They finally got to take a good look around the lobby; the maroon walls should’ve darkened the place, but the huge glass windows countered it. It was too bright to see anything outside.

She then reappeared with a large book, a little wider than a phonebook, almost the same shade as the walls. Paige had her mouth uncharacteristically pursed into a straight line, all attention on wiping off the copious amounts of dust. When she remembered where she was her focus returned, along with that friendly yet somehow unsettling grin.

“Alright honey,” she said, only the thinnest undertone of cruelness in her voice, “What is your name?”

“Harriet,” the eldest replied, surprisingly unphased.

“Come over here,” Paige offered, eyeing a faraway table blocked off by some crudely-made dividers.

Harriet looked to the others, each holding on to one of her arms. She hesitated.

“What about—”

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Paige interjected in an almost sickly sweet voice, “they’re old enough to stay in the waiting room alone, yes?”

Harriet turned to one of the children, a girl with round glasses and neck-length jet-black hair. She nodded.

“I guess. Just… make sure that Reggie doesn’t get in any trouble, alright?”

The girl silently agreed again, exiting Harriet’s tight grip and making a straight path for herself and the boy over near the TV. After they were out of view, Harriet swiftly navigated from the scattered chairs and coffee tables to behind the divider, a makeshift desk and Paige eerily waiting for her. She sat down and crossed her legs, hands fidgeting with the peeling pleather of the chair’s arm.

“Now, about the price of your stay,” the headswoman started, “we may be able to find a permanent residence for you.”

“How much?” was Harriet’s immediate question. “I can get a job if I need to. Trust me, I can even work here if I can just stay.”

“I was just about get to that!” she spouted, as if she were an excited child and not a 40-something year-old. “You won’t need to pay a dime of your money or waste a moment of your time! Since I can obviously see you kids are in a rough spot, I’d be willing to let you stay for free, as long as you don’t cause any trouble,” she instructed, eyeing what she could see of Harriet’s dingy clothing. “It wouldn’t cost much to keep you three around, anyway,” she added peacefully.

Harriet couldn’t believe it, but she accepted the fact very quickly. A place to stay that was so nice, so hospitable for free? She hadn’t been in a hotel since 3rd grade; her dad had taken her there for a nice getaway. Mom wasn’t there, of course. Why couldn’t it still be like that, she would always wonder. But now it could, and she’d be with her real family. Or, at least, what she considered her real family.

“Now let me just get the paperwork,” Paige said, mouth eerily running into a straight line.

Harriet briefly wondered if her friends were okay.

Reggie waited patiently for the black box on the wall to light up with all the colors and sounds he was familiar with as his sister fiddled around with the the seemingly ancient cords behind the just as old wooden stand.

“Hey, uh,” she said softly, minding her tone, “could you please help me over here?” Reggie sat still, his eyes mindlessly wandering around the reflections of the curved glass. His sister waited a moment before speaking up again.

“Reginold!” she almost snapped, albeit still in a whisper. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to give up on not assisting just yet, so she let go of the tangle of cords frustratedly and moved behind the similar-looking boy to see exactly what he was so captivated by.

“Reg,” she called again, shaking his shoulders a bit.

“Shhh,” was his only reply.

“Reggie, this is no time for games!” she scolded.

Reggie unexpectedly pulled his sibling down to his view.

“Robin, look!” he whisper-yelled, pointing at a familiar figure in the reflection.

It was Paige. She was doing something to the security system, it looked like. A small beep was heard from across the room, confirming this theory.

“What is she doing?” Reggie questioned, keeping his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Robin replied.

Paige then went through another door, one hidden fairly well by the coloring which matched the walls. The siblings scurried over in curiosity.

The room was lit with what seemed to be multicolored lights dancing about. Jungle-like vines crept from one wall to the other, the biggest web covering what seemed to be a staircase. They froze when a new voice came from what seemed to be an on-speaker phone-call.

“Need the elevator today, miss?” said someone on the other line, seemingly a male.

“We have some new ‘guests’. Numbers nine, ten and eleven. They’re children. Easy-peasy.”

This was what shocked them the most. It sounded like the Paige, the one welcomed them to stay in the first place, but… it wasn’t her. Why was she numbering the like test subjects? Why the emphasis on “guests?”

“We haven’t had any children here in awhile.”

“Not since guest three!”

She finished this off with a very concerning laugh. The deeper voice sighed.

“Where to, boss?”

“Floor thirty-four.”

The person on the other end hesitated.

“A… are you sure? I mean, come on Paige, they’re only kids…”

“Sure I’m sure. Now get on it.”

The last thing heard of the conversation was the slam of a very old-fashioned telephone. The kids could just barely see Paige’s shadow coming out of the room when they fled, and they fled right to the door. A piercing, painful shriek of an alarm was heard as Robin’s hands failed to push the glass open. As they turned around, none other than Paige stood behind them, a forced smile greeting them.

“Silly kids. I shouldn’t have had as much trust in you. It’s not your fault, just your age,” she sighed.

The ding of the elevator astrayed all of their attention. The woman forcibly grabbed the hands of the children, both at once, and practically dragged them to the other side of the room. They had just missed the doors opening. A smaller-statured yet obviously older boy stood neatly at the entrance, suit adjusted to perfection and hat impeccably placed. He promptly moved out of the way to let the three in. Robin eyed the buttons. The only one lit up was one marked “34.” She then turned to the eldest partner, hoping for some sign of perseverance. So much had gone on in the past five minutes that she had neglected to realize that they were reunited with Harriet.

And she was mad.

“So, what brings yous here?” the bellboy asked.

“We crashed our bikes,” Harriet replied, crossley.

Silence.

It was then that the three realized that they didn’t actually miss the doors opening— there were no doors on the elevator. Room after room scrolled by leisurely, not a sign of life could be seen anywhere. It was practically pitch-black. Inside the elevator, however, it was almost a polar opposite; since it was such an old elevator on the outside, it would be assumed that the lighting wouldn’t be as bright, wouldn’t be as blinding as it was. Robin looked over to Reggie, who was practically closing his eyes.

“Why is it so bright?” Robin accidentally thought out loud.

The young man laughed.

“Ya see kid, that’s a funny story I ‘oughta tell ya,” he leaned up against a wall without buttons, closing his eyes. “There’s this lady that stays here. I bet you’ll meet her.”

“You’re the bellboy though, right? I’m sure you’ve seen her too when she goes down to the lobby.”

He laughed again, this time louder. The echo bounced to and fro from one wall to the other.

“Nobody goes down to the lobby, kid. Not even me.”

The three stood still, not sure what to do with this information. Was this supposed to be some sort of joke?

“Then she just… stays there? In her room?” Harriet questioned. “Ridiculous,” she spat under her breath

“Funny you should say that, ol’ ‘Good News’ is one of the exceptions. A lotta ‘em do

stay and just sit there like homebodies. But that’s not her thing. In fact, it’s why we gotta keep the lights on in here. She has her ways… she’s been in the elevator before and we wanna keep her out. Usually we just use the elevator to take people up, y’know?”

But they didn’t know. “Good News?” Was that some sort of nickname? If he had never saw her, how could he have even come up with one? Reggie, with his eyes still in a uncomfortable-looking squint, turned his head to Harriet, then to the bellboy.

“What does she do?” he asked curiously.

The male leaned down to Reggie’s height, even though he probably wouldn’t be able to

see him anyway.

“She interviews people. Tricks ‘em into thinking she’s s’posed t’a be travelling around like she does, maybe messes with their heads. That way she can be on Paige’s side and her own. Keeping the guests up here is what the owner wants, so by doin’ her job she has an excuse to get closer to the thirty-fifth floor.”

“But I thought there were only 34,” Harriet interrupted.

“That’s the code name for the basement,” the bellboy replied, as if they should’ve known already.

“And what happens if you get down there?”

He paused, expression suddenly becoming much colder. His hat hid his eyes.

“It’s the only exit, I’ll tell ya that.” The familiar ding rung once again as the bellboy practically pushed the three out the elevator and into the hallway before they could even question it.

Robin had too much on her mind, all at once. Thoughts swirling, mingling, fighting with each other in her head. For once she wished to know as little as Reggie, who was currently hiding under the sheets on the bed. What was he thinking about? She took a deep inhale. It was really musty. The dim lamp that Harriet had turned on just minutes earlier, barely shining enough to navigate the dresser drawers properly, showcased the dust flying around the room.

“Harriet,” she finally calls.

Said girl turned around from her under the bed, holding a rusty-looking something.

“What?”

“I think we need to get out of here.”

All attention suddenly was focused on Robin; even Reggie had uncovered himself from the painfully retro bedding.

“What?” Harriet repeated, although it was obvious that she had understood.

“This place… this doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh please!” she replied coldly, as if she was expecting this. “You’re such a worrywart, Robin! You know that story was fake. I could tell he was lying.”

“It’s not about the story, Harriet. Reggie and I... we saw the 35th floor! The lady from the counter was there… and… and she was talking to the bellboy! The guy from earlier! It was malicious, Harriet! We’re on the top floor for a reason!”

“Yeah!” Reggie agreed enthusiastically. He was now sitting on the mattress, hands on his hips just like Robin as if he were a baby duck and she were his mother. “We heard that lady calling him! Him and the phone guy have the same voice!”

“They think we’re troublemakers! That’s why we’re so far away from the lobby! Did you think that just because you’re younger you could get away with running away like that?” Harriet chided.

Robin ignored this and continued firing her argument.

“Have you noticed that we’re the only guests here? Other than Paige and the bellboy, we haven’t seen anyone! Don’tcha think that’s just the tiniest bit strange? We bike past this route every day, and yet I’ve never heard of this place.” Robin swiftly walked over to the nearest window and roughly pulled down the cord for the blinds, revealing nothing but a frame plastered onto the wall. “There has to be a reason for this. We need to go. It’s not safe.”

“What do you expect for free?” Harriet countered.

“Why are you so insistent on staying here?” Robin shot back. Her voice cracked from anger for the first time in months.

“You can’t go anyway, remember what happened with the door?”

“But you can get out from the basement…” Reggie added.

“The ‘thirty fifth floor’ isn’t real, Reggie. None of what that guy says is true.”

“But we saw it!” Reggie insisted.

“I’m sure you did,” Harriet replied harshly, shooting a look of pure rage at the youngest, “but how can you say it wasn’t some sort of break room?” She walked over to him and lifted his chin up to her face, fake patientness masking her anger. “Reginald Quinn, this isn’t a game. You’re too young to have a say in this. I suggest you keep playing until we have this settled out, alright?”

And at this moment, Robin’s thoughts finally broke out; they agreed on their differences. Harriet was the eldest, the leader, the one who fixed mistakes more than she made them. She would never go so low… never go so low as to yell at Reggie like that. Reggie might be younger, but he was always equal. That’s what they all agreed on. That they were equal minds, had an equal say. Harriet was sounding like the distant voice of her mother, it seemed. The one she had never seen, but heard the complaints of.

The complaints of how she never saw anyone as equal to her.

Now, with no thoughts at all, Robin stood there blank-faced. Reggie’s arm was lightly grabbed by his sister as he was stood up. On instinct he followed to their next destination: the door. Harriet’s scolding continued until she realized what was happening. She ran up to them.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“You can’t just… you can’t just do that! Do you know what they’ll do to us if they find us escaping again?”

“So you agree. It’s not normal.”

“No, maybe not, but it’s better than where I was before!”

“Where you were before.”

“Yes!” she yelled. The anger had transitioned to an almost desperate yell, Robin now tuning her out as she sped down the dark corridor.

“If you want to leave, for God’s sake,” Harriet called, “at least leave Reg here! He’ll get hurt!”

Robin turned her head back.

“You’re not his sister.”

And off into the dark, soulless hallway the two went. Reggie looked back at Harriet for a moment, but was turned back by the force of Robin’s hand. A faint ding was heard in the distance, Harriet trying hard not to scream and yell and shout and cry like she wanted to. It was too late now.

“Fights with friends, eh?” asked a familiar voice. Harriet turned around to face the bellboy, leaning in his elevator. She didn’t reply.

“Haven’t seen that situation before. Don’t worry ‘bout it, though.”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You scared off my friends. My family.”

“Scared ‘em? Geez miss, I’m sorry,” he apologized. His usual smile was replaced with sincere-looking frown of concern.

“Why did you have to tell that story?”

His eyes widened in shock.

“ ‘Story?’ Miss, I hate to break it you ya, but that ‘story’ was nothin’ but the truth. Good News use ta be like you, y’know. She hated her life, thought it was better for her here. I bet she regrets staying for as long as she has. Makes it harder to get out.”

“I can escape any time I want,” Harriet remarked.

“This place has it’s ways, girlie. It’s all in the mind. Paige didn’t offer you to stay for

free, you offered to stay away forever, y’know?”

As he said this, the elevator dinged once again.

“But I don’t know,” Harriet interjected quickly.

“Exactly,” the bellboy replied, “the only ones who do are the ones who get out.”

Harriet kept her painful gaze as the elevator shakily started to leave. A look of shock overtook the man’s face as if he remembered something.

“Oh! And before I forget,” he said, taking a familiar object from behind his back, “I believe this is yours, ma’am.”

It was a broken-down tricycle. Reggie’s, once hers.

He tipped his hat in exit as the elevator finally descended, leaving only a hazardous hole due to the lack of a door.

The bellboy, who, after being asked his name, simply requested to be addressed as “Bellboy,” came up at that same time every night since. Through all the garbled metaphors and clues Bellboy spat out, at least it was something to look forward to. Harriet soon adapted, keeping her feelings towards the others’ missing company in the back of her head rather than the forefront. At first the trike she had retrieved was kept in her room safely leaned against the bureau, neat and somewhat proper, but as the days passed it slowly fell. Between talking and sleeping and the things she didn’t remember that she did, she had always forgotten to. One night, or at least she thought it was night, at what felt like the same time everyday, Harriet locked her door and sat in front of the elevator waiting patiently for the ‘ding’ that meant she wasn’t lonely again. And sure it was; the empty cavern soon shone with light as a figure appeared before her.

But this… this wasn’t Bellboy.

A woman about the same age as Bellboy cheerfully bounced before her. While Harriet was dissapointed, company was company.

“Hello,” the person in the elevator greeted softly.

“What are you here for?” Harriet asked.

“Why the long face?” She inquired, ignoring the previous question.

“I was expecting someone else.”

“Who?”

“The bellboy.”

The girl opened her eyes in shock but quickly closed them, as if she was hiding something behind her eyelids. She scribbled something onto a pad of paper that had somehow appeared in her hands.

“Ah, so you know him. Could you do me a favor?” She looked around for a moment and then cupped her hands around one of Harriet’s ears, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell him I was here.”

Harriet was puzzled at this request, but then soon remembered something vague and washed away. Is this…?

“Sure,” Harriet agreed before even considering the consequences. Only for a moment did she ponder if this could be dangerous.

“Great! Great great great! Now before I go, I have a question for ya.”

“Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

Harriet gulped. The air seemed to get colder and thinner as what seemed like forever passed by. After this awkard silence, in which the woman was waiting patiently for it to end, Harriet replied.

“Because I don’t want to leave.”

“Your parents wouldn’t care?” the interviewer asked, looking up from her writing.

“My mom wouldn’t care.”

“Then how about your dad, then?”

“My dad would’ve cared,” she started, “but he isn’t... around.”

“Oh,” the reporter breathed, understanding what she meant. “I’m assuming he was the one that gave you that bee-yoo-tiful bike in your room then, huh?”

She motioned at the room’s open door fully showcasing the tricycle.

“Yes. But it’s not mine, it’s…”

She paused. Who’s was this?

“Reggie’s. It’s Reggie’s,” she messily finished. How could she forget about Reggie?

“Ah. You mind if I speak to this ‘Reggie’?”

“He’s not here, he left. Him and his sister.”

“Then why are you keeping the bike?

“It used to be mine.”

“But it’s not anymore, and he obviously didn’t take it, so he must not want it. You barely remembered him in the first place! Where are you gonna ride a bicycle around here, anyway, even if you did decide to give it back to yourself? In fact, why did you even take him with you if you’re not related?”

“I…”

The reporter glared daggers into Harriet’s brown eyes. She was sick and tired of these questions. Sick and tired of not having enough to answer with. Sick and tired of not having an answer in which to have this person stop poking at something she couldn’t remember.

“I don’t know,” she said.

The woman sighed and closed her notepad, putting it back into her satchel. She tucked the pencil over her ear. The woman remained unimpressed until she briefly look around, spotting what she had been looking for.

“Excuse me,” the interviewer asked, interrupting Harriet’s currently spaced-out demeanor, “what’s in your pocket right there?”

Harriet finally came to terms with reality and grabbed what had been there: the sharp metal object from under the bed when her friends were still there. She held it up to the taller female’s view.

“You can have it if you want,” Harriet offered. She could never figure out what it was for, so she had deemed it useless and had forgotten all about it.

The woman snached it almost predatorily, then stood up straight again as if nothing had ever happened. She thanked the adolescent and was met by a wary smile.

“Oh, and by the way…” she said as she put a foot out of the box and into the hallway. “there’s something I think you’ve forgotten. It’s no big deal, really, most of the guests have.”

“Alright then, tell me.”

The reporter took a deep breath before speaking.

“There is a reason you’re here, you know.”

She ran off, rusty, sharp something in hand.

The next night, Harriet did as usual.

At what the clock said was the same time as always, she walked into the hallway in front of the elevator, this time with the tricycle. The air was thick, emotion barren in the cold hallway. Was it winter, or was the place just always this cold? Harriet couldn’t remember.

Everything went as expected.

Bellboy, ascending from the next floor below with his usual smile and a slew of snacks, was only a quarter in view.

“Harriet!” he greeted, “sorry for not gettin’ back to you yesterday. I hope this’ll make up for it.”

Harriet nodded.

A noise, a clip, echoed from above. There was a sudden shake, and the young man’s face turned into a sudden worry.

“H-hey… what’s goin’ on? Harriet?” his voice crescendoed.

She remained quiet, gripping onto the trike as if it was life support. The elevator slowly sank. Bellboy looked down, and then back up, mortified. It seemed like as if he knew why, but not who. Harriet didn’t know why, but she had a feeling who. They could’ve clicked, could’ve escaped together, but all Harriet could think of was that she was here for a reason.

There is a reason you’re here, her mind reminded her in the voice of the guest from last night. It finally all made sense to her: she wasn’t supposed to be happy here. It was her fault.

The speed of the descent slowly rose. Harriet was still, even when he was in full view and could very easily be saved.

A small voice was heard in the distance of her mind, repeating the same pattern of speech over and over and over and over, volume increasing and tone deranging as it went on.

Time, right now, was just how the theorists in the books described it: an illusion.

Her focus snapped back to it’s original accuracy as she peered over to the descending box, a mere counterfeit of The Scream falling down, down, down. She couldn’t see the one whose laughs echoed above, who was most likely just around the corner, but she didn’t want to. She knew who it was. She knew this would happen How could she do this to him? He was all she had left.

“Good news, good news” the laugh seemed to call.

Harriet repeated the loop yelled by the young face for the final time, no emotion left to be portrayed.

“I’m sorry.”

She picked up the tricycle, caked with dust and unusable. It took no effort to throw it into the cavern before her.

A deafening crash was heard in the down below. The light that once lit up the dead hallway flickered.

Darkness.

#short story #original story #34floors #34f1m #idk what the acronym will be yet #we'll figure it out #writing

0 notes