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[indecipherables]

lonemyths​:

𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝚂    𝚆𝚈𝙼𝙰𝙲𝙺    ,    𝚄𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴    𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴    ;    𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚁𝙰    𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙾𝙽    ,    𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙾𝚅𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴    𝙾𝙱𝙹𝙴𝙲𝚃    . he  had  always  been  so  obstinate  ,    an  appetite  for  a  challenge    —    and  her  constant  reluctance  to  be  seen  with  him  ,  to  acknowledge  him  ,  made  it  all  more  riveting  to  his  current  insipid  life  free  from  his  previous  proclivity  for  debauchery  and  intoxication  .     francis  was  bored  ,  but  more  importantly  ,  he  needed  someone    .   so  many  already  burdened  and  so  many  bridges  already  burned  ,    he  latched  onto  clara  in  hopes  that  she  could  see  that  maybe  ,    it  wasn’t  all  just  by  mere  chance  .  that  maybe , there was a reason that  she  was  the  one  to  find  him  that  night  . 

 ❝       look  ,  i  know  your  sapphic  sensibilities  can’t  appreciate  this  ,          ❞    he  began  with  the  roll  of  his  eyes  ,  voice  with  feigned  irritation  as  he  gestured  at  his  own  face  ,    ❝      but  where  can  you  find  someone  who  looks  as  pretty  as  me  with  two  hours  of  sleep  ?  you  call  it  looking  like  shit  ,  i  call  it  a  peculiar  and  otherworldly  beauty    .          ❞       last  few  words  said  with  utter  conviction  ,    though  ,  one  could  guess  that  he  wasn’t  serious  as  the  twitch  of  his  lips  threatened  to  let  out  a  laugh  .   and  while  he  managed  to  restrain  himself  on  that  part  ,  he  couldn’t  help  but  be  tickled  by  clara’s  paranoia  over  being  watched  ,  chuckling  at  her  when  she  gave  the  drone  the  finger  .    ❝         i  think  i  like  you  most  when  you’re  like  this      —      disheveled  ,  paranoid  ,  disrespecting  inanimate  objects  .    definitely  beats  the  robotic  clara  alderton  ,  if  you  ask  me  .          ❞

“what do you think happens in women’s brains, francis?” she frowned, genuinely confused. did he even think before he opened his mouth? “do you think i just see your face as some kind of cipher? like-” she affected a robotic voice, ‘not potential sex object, facial features cannot compute.” she rolled her eyes in a way she was worried to find was almost affectionate. “no, i know what a good-looking man is, just like i know you are not it.” 

there were a lot of things that troubled her about the other, but she had to admit that she almost envied francis’ endless reserves of sincere conviction - his apparent sense of the gravity of every single god damned second of every single day. it must be exhausting, looking for the poetry in every piece of abandoned litter, or whatever. she was a little stung by his reference to ‘the robotic clara’, and while she understood the impression she gave off (and couldn’t imagine an alternative version of reality where she went for something different) she wasn’t particularly happy with being viewed that way. “i came here to work,” she shrugged, “this isn’t holloway university’s best friend race.” 

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silaswauters​:

Silas was beginning to regret heading down to the bonfire. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy parties, but the beginning of a new school year always felt like diving into the deep end when the pool hadn’t yet warmed past ten degrees– something akin to an icebath. He liked to ease his way into things, which was why he switched between idle puffs from the menthol that sat neatly in the crux of his fingers and tiny sips of the radler he cradled in the other hand. 

He was on his way into the thick of the woods when he and a girl ahead of him, barely visible with a halo of warm light behind her, nearly stumbled over the same prone figure. Silas’ groan was audible– he hated to feel obligated to do anything. “So,” he said, glancing up now from the arm he’d almost tread on to the girl who had stopped before doing so. “What do you think we should do?” Another pull from the cigarette billowed a hazy halo around his shaven head. “Because between you and me, I’m totally comfortable with pretending this never happened and I never saw them.”

She rolled her eyes at Silas’ response –– classic Holloway student reaction. “Seriously man? We need to move him, he needed to be back in his dorm like ten minutes ago.” She would move this guy herself, but past experience had taught her the difficulties of trying to wrangle someone to the safety of their bed when they were drunk out of their minds. She always got lumped with this. 

On cue, the guy rattled to life, making some vaguely distressed noise as he came round, swaying into a seat position momentarily before falling straight back, bumping his head against the ground. “Hey-hey... hey, c’mon man,” she appealed gently, reaching out to prop him up. Then, to Silas: “Are you going to help or just stand there?”

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ethanclausen​:

“Don’t worry, Elderton, your image is in good hands here,” he promised. He wasn’t going to toot his own horn but he’d gotten plenty of people their first beer pong win and that was something he cherished almost more than the victory himself. “You ever played before?”

She actually did believe him, her usual cynicism set aside by the alcohol she had ingested and the fact that she knew well that Ethan was good at what he did - it was a sports-person’s respect for another sports-person. “Ever played?” She repeated incredulously, stepping up to grab a bat. “Clausen, I’m a local champion - we’re going to make a killer team.”

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theosalazar​:

parties weren’t exactly theo’s forte. she didn’t mean to be a goody two shoes, that was just how she was, how she was raised. after hopping around from foster home to foster home as a kid, once she got adopted, she promised not to FUCK it up. since getting to college, she was trying to let loose more but it was easier said than done. it seemed to be more easier for her brother. after enough convincing, she decided to check it out, a book under her armpit just in case she needed to sneak off to some corner to read. “oh shit!” theo bent down, tucking strands of blonde behind her ear, “is he okay?” she let out a sigh of relief when she saw he was still breathing and just seemed to be sleeping, “should we like…move him?”

clara looked up from where she had instinctively sunk to a crouch next to the guy, slightly startled by the presence of the angelic-looking blonde, but successfully not showing it. “he’s okay,” she promised, “i think he was probably trying to drag himself home but didn’t make it too far.” her tone was scathing, yes, but it lacked some of her usual unforgiving tone, replaced with something that bordered on sympathy. she shook the guy’s shoulder, rolling him into the recovery position confidently. “if we can get him to come round then you might have to help me help him back to campus,” she explained, looking up at the girl apologetically, more expressively so when she spotted the book under her arm. “i’m strong but drunk people are wriggly.”

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rcmancs​:

even as much as he liked to party, down a couple of drinks until he was really enjoying himself – even he needed a break from the crowd for a few moments or so. he always used ‘going for a smoke’ as his excuse to bounce. naturally, of course, he used said excuse in this exact moment, taking the opportunity to lurk around the forest for a bit.

“ oh, you’ll find a few of ‘em. lightweights for ya. ” he chimes in, offering a shrug in response. “ you trying to bounce ?? ” he can’t help but question. “ pretty early to leave a party. ” granted, he had no idea what the time was.

his nonchalance annoyed her, even if this was just one of many unfortunate casualties of the night. she crouched by the guy, frowning, casually checking for breath. she visibly relaxed when she felt it on the back of her hand. “bouncing to bed,” she nodded, shaking the guy on the ground firmly. “wake up dude,” she called, pressing two fingers to his pulse point carefully, “nicolò here needs someone to annoy once i am gone.”

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oddballperse​:

if he was being honest, he hadn’t even considered the fact that there were literally people that had been killed or rather, one person had been killed, and another had been almost killed. “oh, you right, murders–” he paused his legs swinging from his position atop the machine adjacent to the one she was using. “i don’t know, i just don’t think the murderer will follow us if we leave holloway, that just seems like a lot of work for a murderer.” 

“i always think murder seems like a lot of work,” she shrugged, “so i wouldn’t put it past them.” she’d never really thought about committing any serious crimes before she came to holloway, but something about the people here really did test her. “plus even murderers like holidays to european destinations, you know? maybe the polaroid pictures would come out better with some picturesque settings and stuff.”

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soooup​:

He’d offer to help with the equipment but something told him she’d just say no, so there he stood like a white suburban dad watching a barbecue. ❝ That’s hot— ❞  he says doing his best Paris Hilton impression ❝ and I don’t mean that in a straight guy sort of way, like good for you girls are hot. ❞ He pauses, smile faltering ever so slightly as his words hang in the air. ❝ as a representative of Decker house— ❞ A position he didn’t actually hold. ❝ I know you don’t like parties but i’m sure the rest of the girls do, ❞ he says thumb pointed over his shoulder to the girls who’ve almost all disappeared now. ❝ We’d like to invite the rowing girls to our next party, I promise it’ll be worth it, you can stick with me. ❞ Not that she probably would want to.

“Self-elected resident pervert, is it?” She arched a brow, but didn’t immediately shut him down as he voiced his generous invitation. Though she couldn’t imagine anything worse than a bunch of Decker guys drowning in tequila, or whatever, she was smart enough to consider that this might be just the thing to win over some of her more difficult team members. Emma had been fun, easy-going, excellent at parties. Clara didn’t really want to think ‘what would Emma do?’ (her thoughts were too occupied with the answer to the question ‘what should Emma do?’, which was ‘go fuck herself’), but the answer here was obvious. “Okay,” she nodded, slightly tentative, “sure.” She tried not to sound too strangled as she added her thanks.

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lyratheworld​:

lyra’s no stranger to incel infatuation, though she’s much more adept at handling them in her instagram dms than in person, where she’s out of practice and increasingly reliant on jason’s constant, handsome, muscular presence warding off campus creeps. it’s moments like these, when she’s forced to laugh mirthlessly as cheeto breath wafts in her face, that she realizes she’s taken her friend’s male privilege for granted and starts thinking about how she should really start carrying around a knife to wave around at ugly math majors if they get too close. 

she’s startled by the sudden presence of a vaguely familiar girl, though lyra tries to paint a nonchalant image of familiarity as she takes the hint, giving the guy a pointed look in the process. “nobody important,” she retorts, and immediately squishes closer into the girl’s side as lyra glances back at her with a fake, adoring smile plastered on her face, though this guy probably wouldn’t know the difference. “don’t we have a date planned? we should really get going.”

clara’s pleased that the girl’s acting is far more convincing than her own, is impressed by her ability to run with the facade. she gets the small rush of a plan well executed, a plan that - from the look on this guy’s face - is totally working. after days, weeks, months even, of fucking up again and again it is an extraordinary pleasure to see this horrible little man shrivel up at the word ‘date’, to start looking around his shoulder slightly awkwardly. 

“we absolutely do,” clara nodded, sliding her coffee along to the brunette, as if she’d collected it especially for her, and getting her phone out. “first we have to facetime my parents though, they haven’t seen you for like a fortnight and they are on me to catch up with you - they’re so annoying.” she knew she was laying it on thick, but what the hell - she was almost having fun. she blinked up at the guy again. “sorry dude, was there anything else we could do for you?” 

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winslcts​:

“i can’t back right up, clara, if i say it again, i’ll receive double the brain damage. it’ll be irreversible, i’ll never be the same.” a flair for the dramatics and rambling in no particular direction. that’s— that’s what winslet james was known for. the blonde couldn’t help the tiny snort that escaped her, a grin stretching at her lips from how realistic clara tended to be. perhaps thats what winslet lacked of these days, a good ol’ dose of realism. it felt nice being anchored down by the ankles every now and again. “thanks, i’ll definitely do that. not sure about the whale noises.. but i’ll consider the other stuff. i mean, i’m already outside, i think i’m doing a decent job recovering from that mental throttle.” the blonde places her face against the cool surface of the table, blue orbs closing in relaxation. “speaking of wild things.. are you ready for your dance lesson tomorrow?”

though this was only approximately clara’s second (third?) conversation with winslet ever, she was struck by how often she felt she understood almost none of what the other girl was saying.  they lived on very different planets. she felt like she’d suffered some kind of physical whiplash as the blonde jumped from whales to dancing in one swift movement, recalling their previous conversation. “hey,” she hissed, looking around them suspiciously. “literally nobody can know about this. i am serious. i don’t... dance. even just thinking about the prospect of it is causing me so much stress i feel like i am going to burst a blood vessel.”

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goldhirsch​:

         that is a question that still runs through jason’s mind even after a month of wearing the c. he could rattle off a numbered LIST if he had to : the very same one they’d presented to him the day the coaches told him they wanted to stitch the letter on his jersey because they knew he was going to try to say no. but the question coming from clara hardly feels threatening in the least, just another timely swing in this never ending bout of banter between them. besides, a LIFETIME on the ice & a lifetime of chirps means developing a thick skin. he is slightly surprised she doesn’t attempt to remove him from the bench herself, but he’s not looking any gift horses in the mouth, just rolls his eyes and lies back down.      " oh, y'know — “     he says, arms raising and hands wrapping around the bar as he prepares for the next set.     ” — they’ll make just about anyone captain these days, elderton. “

though she undoubtedly deserved it and absolutely brought jason’s comment upon herself, she was surprised by how much it stung. the fact he’d begun his next set in the same breath, cutting off her opportunity to boot him off, only added salt to the wound. she stretched further over her right leg, pulling on her flexed foot harder, despite any discomfort. “that’s a low blow and you know it,” she added when rose back up. she tried her best not to sound like a kicked dog, but ,as it was how she felt, it was questionable how successful she actually was. “maybe i didn’t even want to be captain - some have greatness thrust upon them, etc.” she shrugged, “unlike you i don’t have the energy to spend three years buttering up everyone on campus like i am trying to win some kind of popularity contest.”

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gcdslike​:

the   moment   benny   was   accepted   in   to   holloway,   he   wrote   a   large   list   of   things   he   wanted   to   get   done   before   graduation.   while   a   regular   bucket   list   may   contain   items   such   as   ‘skydiving’   and   ‘getting   a   tattoo’,   benny’s   was   more   along   the   line   of   ‘laundry’   and   ‘riding   the   bus’.   which   is,   of   course,   the   only   reason   he   finds   himself   inside   a   city   bus   for   the   first   time   in   his   life   at   twenty-three   years   old.   ❛   you   know,   that’s   usually   not   the   response   i   get   from   women.   ❜   he   said,   a   forcefully   nonchalant   smile   tugging   at   his   lips;   he’s   so   out   of   his   depth   inside   the   vehicle,   seeing   clara’s   familiar   face   is   almost   a   balsam.   ❛   c’mon   clara,   don’t   be   like   that.   the   creep   three   seats   down   looks   ready   to   mug   me,   if   anything   happens   i   need   you   to   give   your   phone   to   him   so   i   can   keep   mine.   ❜

she glanced over at the ‘creep’ in question and had to admit that he didn’t look particularly friendly. “hey- hey dude,” she called over at the guy, in suitably hushed tones so he wouldn’t actually hear, “are you single? my FRIEND here wants to know.” she settled back into her seat and chose to look rather aggressively out of the window - anywhere but actually at benny. she could count on one hand the people who knew, really knew, about the disaster argument she had with emma back in spring, and she’d never really intended for benny to be on that list. now he was she feared they had some kind of inherent bond that comes from secrets shared between practical strangers. she didn’t particularly want to be bound to him, but she did want to keep him close enough to murder or blackmail, should it seem that he might let something slip. 

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clara was picking her way out the forest, headed down a path parallel to the entrance marked with the white line, just in case she ran into someone fun determined to guide her back towards the bonfire. she only had one destination in mind and that was her bed. maybe an episode of masterchef, a peppermint tea or something. 

the light was considerably dimmer here, just east of the main bonfire, but the faintly warm glow was enough to make out the distinct form of someone passed out just ahead of her, faintly reeking of alcohol. “great,” she grumbled to herself, “NOW it’s a fucking party.”

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“Not bad,” she observed, before adding, “not good either, but like not the worst I’ve ever heard.” It was the guy from the library, she recognised him through her vague beer-induced haze. “Hey- ADHD guy,” it was almost a chirpy hello coming from her, “what you doing playing Fleetwood Mac alone deep in the forest, dude? You depressed too?” Coincidentally she was carrying two bottles of water she’d just swiped from some guy’s cooler, so she offered him the one in her right, hoping it also worked as a peace offering, she hadn’t been particularly nice. “I used to play,” she mentioned, gesturing to the guitar, “like way back, used to just drone out a bit of Joni Mitchell’s ‘River’ or whatever.” 

In a small clearing in the woods, the light of the bonfire shone through, but was still a bit distanced. It was the moon that did most of the shining in this particular spot. Sam strummed his guitar, pounding the ball of his foot against a smooth, flat rock to create steady rhythm. His fingers plucked away as some of his dark hair fell over the brown eyes that were cast down on the instrument. He was covering The Chain by Fleetwood Mack off of their iconic Rumours album. Sam was no Stevie Nicks, but he sang along anyway. It was one of his favorite songs to play acoustically.

When he was done, he looked up, accidentally making eye contact with someone who’d been watching. He felt his ears growing a little hot, curious about what they’d thought of his little performance. Thankfully it was dark enough and his hair covered the tips enough where it wasn’t overly obvious. Sam smiled and rolled his shoulder lightly, patting the strings with the palm of his hand. “I might take a request in exchange for some water or something,” he mused, the serious expression of his face lightening up to a small smile.

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“great idea man,” clara enthused, filled with sarcasm and complete with a big, faked smile, “i’ve been hoping you’d yeet yourself into a body of water and spare me the difficulty of looking at you, so this is ideal.” she moved to get up from where she sat, leant against a pine. “actually, if you want me to chuck you in i think i can manage it, you’re only tiny.”

benny   is   more   than   just   a   little   drunk   as   he   stumbles   across   the   uneven   terrain,   throwing   one   arm   around   the   person   that   had   the   misfortune   of   walking   by   as   the   other   held   a   death   grip   to   an   imported   bottle   of   vodka.   ❛   do   you   know   what   we   should   do   ?      ❜   he   asked,   eyes   shining   with   mischief   as   he   offered   the   other   a   smile.   ❛   go   skinny   dipping.   no   no   hear   me   out,   the   lake   is   like,   just   two   minutes   in   that   direction,   it   could   be   fun   !   ❜

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clara let the silence sit, hoping an answer wasn’t expected of her. she’d snaked her way back from the bonfire, ready to sit out after less than thirty minutes of said frat boys and their chanting or whatever. when it became clear that they might expect a response, clara hovered slightly awkwardly, already feeling like she’d exerted all of her social energy for the  evening. “imagine fossilised frat boys,” she finally added, thoughtfully, “like with the dinosaurs, post-extinction.” 

dylan  saeli.    ↬     open.  /  bonfire  event.  trail  toward  the  woods,  mid  to  late  afternoon. 

       — -     a  noise  of  disgust  was  paired  with  a  sweet  scrunched  nose,  watching  the  trail  of  white  paint  disappear  into  the  thick  forest.  they’d  wondered  how  on  earth  there  could  be  a  single  space  BIG  ENOUGH  for  a  bonfire  hidden  somewhere  in  between  the  trees.  as  their  boots  dug  into  the  soft  dirt,  crunching  leaves  on  purpose,  they  groaned,  trying  to  find  a  few  stars  to  deafen  the  sound  of  (  fake  )  frat  boys  already  enjoying  their  SECOND  red  solo  cup  full  of  cheap,  warm  beer.     ❛     and  here  i  was  thinking  frat  boys  had  gone  extinct,     ❜       a  paused  chased  their  words,  fixing  the  fact  that  they’d  been  thinking  aloud  and  turning  it  into  a  conversation.      ❛     wishful  thinking,  i  guess.     ❜       smooth,  dylan.  very  smooth.

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Clara was visibly unimpressed by the dramatic gesture, beating the ball out of his hand from underneath and catching it in her own free hand. She took a final swig of her own beer with the other, before setting it down on the ground. “Fine, but no losing Clausen, it’s bad for my image,” she nodded, without even a glimmer of a smile. 

“Will you be my plus one for beer pong?” Ethan proposed as he got on one knee and produced a ping pong ball as an offering, He hoped the flashy gesture just might get them to agree to a game… or two. “I guarantee we’ll win and I promise I’ll even drink your cups if they manage to get any points on us,” Ethan promised trying to sweeten the deal. He’d had a beer or two already but that only sharpened his beer pong ability and the table had been calling his competitive side all night.. “So what do you say?” Ethan asked still grinning up at them. 

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lonemyths​:

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈  𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝙵𝙾𝙸𝙻𝚂  𝙾𝙵  𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷  𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁    ╱    𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁  𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂  ,  𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁  𝚁𝙴𝙿𝚄𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂  ,  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽  𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴  𝙾𝙵  𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁  𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃  𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙲  𝚀𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚂    ;  𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝚂  𝚆𝚈𝙼𝙰𝙲𝙺  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚁𝙰  𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙾𝙽  𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴  𝙽𝙾𝚃  𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳  𝚃𝙾  𝙱𝙴  𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂  .  and  maybe  they  still  weren’t  ,  but  a  twist  of  fate  brought  them  together  ,  and  although  he  didn’t  see  clara  as  someone  who  believed  in  destiny  or  ascribed  a  greater  meaning  to  any  fateful  occurrences  ,  francis  still  thought  that  they  shared  a  bond  . she  saved  his  life  and  francis  knew  how  traumatic  it  must  have  been  to  see  someone  in  the  position  he  was  ,  and  yet  ,  neither  of  them  were  ever  allowed  to  talk  about  it  .   and  he  was  lonely  ,  so  lonesome  of  going  through  everything  alone    —  and  if  they  were  not  allowed  to  talk  about  what  happened  to  anyone  ,  then  why  not  with  each  other  ?  

still  ,  it  was  never  something  easy  to  bring  up  .    neither  of  them  the  type  to  easily  open  up  ;  one  of  the  very  few  ways  they  were  mirrors  of  each  other  than  foils  .   ❝       if  every  ghost  is  as  pretty  as  me  ,  i’m  sure  people  would  love  to  be  haunted  ,     ❞   he    remarked  ,  an  air  of  pseudo-arrogance  in  his  tone  just  to  mess  with  her  .  he  began  to  jog  backwards  to  face  clara  ,    attempting  not  to  laugh  at  how  apprehensive  she  seemed    —  which  could  either  be  attributed  to  his  mere  existence  ,  the  nda  his  parents  asked  her  to  sign  ,  or  both  .    ❝       chill  the  fuck  out  ,  alderton  .  my  parents  are  not  going  to  assassinate  you  for  talking  to  me  .  they’re  not  the  illuminati  ,  they  don’t  have  eyes  everywhere  .      plus  ,  you  can’t  disclose  to  me  what  i  already  know  .  stop  being  so  fucking  weird  .        ❞

he was so annoying, a quality only heightened by her knowledge that had she not been in what the emergency response team had called ‘the right place at the right time’ on that faithful night back in january she would never have to endure this dumb conversation. the right place at the right time for what exactly? the right place to gain some kind of unwanted reverse guardian angel in the form of a stuck-up, pretentious crack addict (probably, she had no evidence on this last bit, only creative license). “wait – who the fuck said ANYTHING about assassination?” she blinked, quickly sliding across the scale from just ‘pissed off’ to ‘incandescent with rage’. “i’m not paul mccartney or whoever i literally didn’t ask to get tied up in all of this. i would have just tossed some band-aids at you or something if i knew helping you out was going to cause me so much hassle.” this was a lie that would convince no one who had witnessed the scene (though everyone who had was under an nda too, she supposed). 

some people picnicking under a tree a little way off were staring at them now, so she fell into step beside him, reluctantly, keen not to make a spectacle of herself. “okay, cool - so can i DISCLOSE that you still look like complete shit?” she hissed, eyebrows shooting up her freckled forehead as she crossed her arms firmly across her chest. she stuck a middle finger up vaguely at the sky before adding, “that’s for your parents’ secret drone cameras or whatever, just incase they are filming this.”