infinitegalahad

[infinitegalahad]

I think this might be my new magnum opus

[infinitegalahad]

REBLOG IF THIS RELATES TO YOU:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

[infinitegalahad]

Israel doing well in Eurovision is a completely predictable result of the boycott. The people who are watching & voting in Eurovision are now at best willfully ignorant and apathetic and at worst actively pro-Israel, meaning there will be a disproportionate amount of people willing to vote for Israel and even people voting for them because of the boycott.

But saying that means that boycotting Eurovision was the wrong call completely misses the point of the boycott. The point is not "Israel should not win Eurovision", it is "Israel should not be allowed to compete in the first place". The point of the boycott is not to give the EBU views or money, so if you've been boycotting... don't give them money or legitimacy by voting for someone tomorrow to prevent Israel from winning. If Israel does win, that does not mean boycotting failed; it only further delegitimizes the competition and confirms we should burn the whole thing down.

[infinitegalahad]

[infinitegalahad]

SOMEWHERE IN TRIBECA (PART ONE)

Pairing: Jimmy Vesey x Female! Indentifying Reader Summary: It took Jimmy a second, and it sent him into shock. Chills overtook his body. God, Jimmy felt fucking old, and like a damn dirty dog.  He tried, tried to say no, but he couldn’t. He sent her a rose and threw his phone down.  Not even a minute later, Jimmy’s phone buzzed. Immediately flipping it over and bracing for the worst, he saw the notification that he thought was fake.  (Y/n) liked you! Match to return the conversation.  Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: Age gap, mentions of trauma, depression, and alcoholism/alcohol abuse. Notes: This idea has been infecting my mind for months on end. There's been a lack of Vesey content, and given my expierences this year, I had to contribute them! To myself and Jimmy Vesey, of course. This chapter starts out a little slow, but the buildup is there (and Kevin and Brady being the best bros to ever exist). Things will definitely pick up next chapter, I promise. Idk anyone watched the game tonight, but NO QUIT IN NEW YORK. AND WE DEMAND MORE VESEY CONTENT. I promise to go in more about what the hell happened in my life soon, in another note! Tomorrow since I wanna read some fanfiction and go to bed lol. And Here is a playlist for the story. I recommend listening to Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen and Duckworth by Kendrick Lamar for the best vibes of this story. . Anyways enjoy!! :) Taglist | Masterlist

Jimmy had been sitting a whole thirty minutes in a corner until somebody noticed him. 

Jimmy didn’t want to be there, but he really didn’t want to be there. Even before Kevin’s and Katya’s wedding, he had spent so many days drinking and socializing. Not that he had an issue with it, but nothing was new and interesting with him, minus being thrown around the country before landing back in New York. With his new contract, he was secured in New York. No more jumping around, for at least another two years. 

And of course, it had to be Kevin four beers deep. He dragged himself over from one edge of the table to another, draping an arm around Jimmy. Jimmy, of course, threw his phone down at sight. 

“You need to meet somebody,” Kevin bluntly stated, as if Jimmy didn’t know that. Jimmy looked around the table to see the gaggle of Rangers, ex-Rangers, and Philadelphia players, all with wives or girlfriends. 

“I’m trying,” Jimmy quietly said, not making eye contact as he held his beer. 

“Well, you need to try harder,” Kevin said, slinging an arm around Jimmy. You’re telling me you can’t find anybody?” 

Jimmy sighed and shrugged his shoulders, looking at Kevin with a helpless look. He wanted to crack a joke, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew there was a sadness in his eyes. He felt like he had most of everything, even though it was perfect, but he lacked one thing; somebody else. 

Here he is, as a thirty-year-old, still in the same boat he was at eighteen. After years of one serious relationship, a few hookups here and there in between moving teams, and another serious relationship that devastated him, Jimmy felt like couldn’t catch a break, nor could he catch one. 

Jimmy shook his head and took a swig of his beer. He had been keeping count, and it was his first one of the night. It wouldn’t be his last, but that was for later. He didn’t like getting drunk, especially around other people. Years of drinking he thought would have taught him to hold it, and he can, just not his emotions. Those always manage to come out. Everybody at the table knew that since they had seen it. 

Secret Garden lowly played in the background of Blue Ribbon, matching the quaint and hipster ambiance of the SoHo restaurant. 

Kevin was an asshole, but he was a loveable asshole. Jimmy was a brother to him, and he knew when and when to not make fun of him. He patted Jimmy’s shoulder and brought him close. He didn’t make a big deal of Jimmy’s loneliness, which Jimmy thanked him for. He simply sat and closed his eyes, feeling lightly tipsy as he listened to the low melody of the lyrics. He had tickets for a Bruce Springsteen Concert Labor Day Weekend, which was literally next weekend, and yet no one to go with. 

When that stupid lonely emotion started to make him feel heavy and shitty, Jimmy sighed and pulled his seat out. 

“I need to piss,” Jimmy mumbled to Kevin and patted his shoulder. He made a quick escape to the bathroom, needing a moment to pull himself together. 

Kevin wanted to go after him, but he knew JImmy needed his time. Out of the whole table, Jimmy was the only guy without a partner. And as much as Kevin loved him, it was point blank obvious before, during, and even after the wedding. Everybody was aware of it, and whale they did what they could, nothing budged, and nor would Jimmy. 

The other guys had dates, but that was different. Jimmy came, per usual, empty handed. From what Kevin knew, he hadn’t been out on the market since he his breakup with Madison. Jimmy didn’t like to talk about her or how it ended. Of course, he had moved past it, but some of the past was holding him back. 

Kevin looked down and saw Jimmy’s caseless iPhone on the counter. The screen was bright under the hardwood table, and Kevin’s thoughts were racing. He didn’t know if it was the beers talking or him, but a minute later Jimmy’s phone was in his hand. It showed off his Hinge profile, which Kevin partly didn’t want to see, but was also incredibly curious. 

In good old Jimmy Vesey nature, in between the zoomed photos and short prompt responses, it lacked character and information. No wonder he was having no luck; his presentation on daring apps was awful,

“Kevin, what the fuck?” 

Nearly pissing himself as a grown map, Kevin held the phone to his chest and swung over to see a topple of gorgeous salt and pepper hair; it was Brady. With a furrowed eyebrow and flushed cheeks, Brady gave a confused expression both at whatever he and Kevin just witnessed. 

Brady held his hand out, and Kevin let out a sad sigh. He handed it over, and Brady took a few seconds to scroll, making both disgusted and cringed faces at Jimmy’s profile. 

“My best trait is being chill?” Brady cringed.

“It’s better than his first photo being of him–at Harvard,” Kevin put his head into his hands, “Oy vey.” 

“I love Jimmy, but this is not a good look,” Brady said as he scrolled through his profile again. 

“What’s not a good look?” Katya said as she came behind. He saw Kevin and Brady loudly moping and throwing a phone around. 

Kevin and Brady helplessly looked at Katya, and Kevin handed her Jimmy’s phone. Takenaback, Katya took the phone. She was blinded up the bright and cracked screen of purple and white, but quickly adjusted to the profile. Taking her time as she scrolled through, she also too had a face of disgust.

“Oh wow, that is…” Katya said, trying to formulate words, “This is not good.”

“Oh believe us, we know,” Brady sighed as he pushed back his hair. 

“He couldn’t even get a date–” Kevin moped as he fell back into the table, “A damn date! Jimmy’s a fox, he can get any girl he wants–”

“--If he puts in the effort,” Brady finished Kevin’s sentence. 

Katya still stared at the screen. The photos weren’t the issue, it was just the presentation. She had known Jimmy for years. For a many who played Hockey, he was one of the better ones. He was kind but most importantly respectful. She knew his breakup had devastated him through the many long phone calls and Jimmy’s stays at there summer house, but it had almost been five years since he broke up with Madison. Especially since Jimmy was going to be in New York for a long time. 

Out with the old, and in with the new. 

“And he can do that, with some help,” Katya said as she sat between Kevin and Brady. Kevin and Brady, grab your phones. Send me every good photo of Jimmy you have right now.” 

“What are you-” Kevin asked before Katya placed a finger on his lip. 

“Best photos of Jimmy, now. Please and thank you.” 

When Jimmy came back to the table, at least five different guys and their partners were huddled together. Curious, Jimmy walked forward. Among the hushed whispers and nods, his phone was handed back to him–by Kevin, of course, who was red and all smiley. He giggled like a mischievous child, and knowing Kevin, he was up to no good. 

“What did you do?” Jimmy bluntly questioned, shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Brady stated, putting his hands together. Jimmy looked down at him as Brady contained his laughter. Confused, Jimmy looked at both of them with a “what the fuck” expression. 

“You’ll see,” Kevin pointed out, “Don’t worry.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m scared to look. And I’m very worried.”

As Kevin and Brady drunkenly laughed, Katya noticed and came over. She put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and reassuringly patted it. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Katya reassured, “You will be totally fine. We just…helped you out.” 

Now Jimmy was beyond fucking confused. Not to mention, he was tired. And he was feeling a lot of emotions he didn’t want to be feeling or thinking about. But the anger was outweighed by his sheer exhaustion. With a yawn, Jimmy sighed, figuring out it was a dumb prank. 

“Well, fuck the whole lot of you, I’m going home,” Jimmy announced. Acting over dramatically upset, Kevin and Brady wished him a goodbye. They laughed as well, telling him to “be careful” and “make sure to use a condom”. Jimmy scoffed and shrugged it off as teasing, primarily coming from the alcohol. After bidding his goodbye and congrats, Jimmy grunted and ordered himself an uber. The subway was not the route tonight. All he wanted to do was just get home and most importantly, be alone.

Even though he hated it. 

–

Name: Jimmy

Age: 30

Location: New York

Hometown: Boston

Occupation: Sports Professional

School: Harvard

My Ideal Date: Trying out a new recipe together at home, followed by a cozy movie night with homemade popcorn and our favorite snacks. As long as I get to be the big spoon. 

A random fact about me that surprises people…: I read a lot. My favorite way to unwind after a long day is curling up with a good book and a cup of tea. Looking for a cuddle buddy. 

I'm Looking For: Long-term, open to short-term (Monogomy)

Two Truths and a Lie: I speak Mandarin fluently, I play for a professional sports team, and I love Sushi. 

My Anthem: Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band

Jimmy sent you a rose. 

Name: (Y/n)

Age: 21

Location: New York

Hometown: New York

Occupation: Consultant and Law Student 

School: GW, UVA, Columbia Law School

My ideal weekend getaway destination is...: A charming bed and breakfast in a quaint coastal town, where I can spend my days exploring local shops, indulging in fresh seafood, and taking long walks along the beach.

I'm Looking For: Long-Term Relationship. No games, please. 

A random fact about me that surprises people...: Despite my innocent appearance, I have a mischievous side that loves to tease and flirt shamelessly.

My Anthem: Fire Fly by Childish Gambino

You now have a new match.

–

Jimmy got home around 9:30ish. Naturally, his growing feeling of loneliness had remained with constant reminders. The couple on the edge of the street, the doorman asking if he had been coming back from a date, and the worst of all; the damn couple in the elevator. With ti already being a small space, they couldn’t keep their hands off eachother. With Jimmy watching them unable to keep their hands off eachother, it made it all the more awkward. 

Hitting the 56th floor, Jimmy escaped. He heard giggles and shushes as the elevator silently shut. Looking back and sighing, Jimmy scoffed and dug in his pocket to grab his keys. 

He opened the door and was welcomed to a dark and unlived-in apartment illuminated by the World Trade Center and the skyline of Hoboken. As the light danced on the water, Jimmy kicked off his shoes, threw his keys into a bowl full of restaurant cards and matchboxes, and switched on the overhead lights. He wanted to rip off his clothes and simply decompress. 

A rinse-off and Corona certainly did the job for Jimmy. Slipping on a pair of boxers and an aged Harvard Men’s Hockey shirt, Jimmy took his beer and jumped into bed. The drinking was bad in college, and Jimmy thought it would go away with age, but somehow, it got worse—especially when he was alone and feeling what he called his therapist “things he didn’t want to feel.” 

Mindlessly scrolling through Netflix, he had already finished another beer. The bitter and blunt taste left a heavy taste in his mouth. He leaned back and let out a loud sigh, knowing he didn’t want another one. But he had training tomorrow, and he needed a good sleep. 

Forcing himself out of bed, Jimmy dragged himself to the kitchen. Opening the fridge and grabbing a beer, he looked at his phone for a distraction, checking his notifications. Emails, texts, and most importantly–Hinge notifications. 

He went from having two likes to fifteen, which was certainly progress. Forgetting his beer, Jimmy proceeded to scroll his matches. Expecting some hope, he found none. None of them rang a bell. Jimmy rested against the counter, resting his hand on his cheek as he mindlessly scrolled. 

Too boring, Too old, Too Familiar–

However, reaching his last match, something caught Jimmy’s attention.

It was a short yellow and lace dress, a bright smile, rosy cheeks, and dewy (y/s/c) skin. The girl posed with another group of girls, but among them, she stood out. Not just because of her dress (and how well it fit her and defined her figure), but it was how dead-drop gorgeous Jimmy thought she was. She had looked done up, but in a natural way, with soft makeup and silky curled (y/h/c) (y/h/t). Regardless, something about her intrigued Jimmy and made him feel warm inside. 

Upon further scrolling, (Y/n) was the yellow dress girl’s name. All of her photos were, as the first, beautiful. In the photos with groups, she always stood out in the best way possible. There were photos of her with friends, one of her serving in tennis, one with her diving on a beach–they all caused Jimmy to stare longer than he usually did. Not to mention, her prompts were perfect and interesting. (Y/n)  was adventurous, flirty, and full–a total minx. A mixture of gorgeous and cute, who had a fiery streak. Just what Jimmy loved. 

Not to mention, (Y/n) was smart, which made her more attractive than she already was. A political communication major, a former Divison 1 tennis player, and someone who just got her Master’s in Public Policy, she was more than accomplished.   

“Beauty and brains,” Jimmy smirked to himself, scrolling through his profile. The beer had become a pastime. 

Reaching the first photo, Jimmy scrolled to see her recent job. She was in her first year at Columbia Law School, working part-time as a consultant at one of those big think tanks. 

And she was twenty-fucking-one years old. 

It took Jimmy a second, and it sent him into shock. Chills overtook his body.

God, Jimmy felt fucking old, and like a damn dirty dog. 

He tried, tried to say no, but he couldn’t. He sent her a rose and threw his phone down. 

Not even a minute later, Jimmy’s phone buzzed. Immediately flipping it over and bracing for the worst, he saw the notification that he thought was fake. 

(Y/n) liked you! Match to return the conversation. 

(Y/n)’s profile opens, and Jimmy’s heart stops. She might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Through a series of speed tying to the point were his eyes blur att he small letters on the screen, Jimmy throws his phone down, again. He does it again–a stupid decision, of course. 

Jimmy: Consultant by day, law student by night, and a secret tease all the time? I think we might just be a match made in heaven. 

Nervously speeding back to his bedroom, he sat on the edge on his bed when his phone buzzed. Not even a minute later, and y/n responded. 

Y/n: Heyy Jimmy ;) Sexy, sporty, and smart? You’re a rare breed lol You’re definitely my kind of guy

In between (Y/n)’s response and her profile, Jimmy switched back and forth. Fuck, she was an absolute beauty. Inside most importantly, but also out. 

Jimmy:  You’re definitely my kind of girl. You seem fun. Why don’t we test out our chemistry? 😉 Y/n: What ideas do you have for a date? Jimmy: How about we put our brains and flirtation skills to the test over dinner sometime? Y/n: Haha damnnn Are you a Harvard exam? Because you've got me feeling all kinds of pressure 😏

A flash of white and yellow lace flashed across Jimmy’s eyes. He imagined his fingers tracing her thighs, which hugged the short edges of her dress, slowly riding up her curved thighs and-

Jimmy blinked and shook his head, distracting himself by typing up a response, red as a lovesick puppy.

Jimmy: Slow your horses, sweetheart Good thing I'm great under pressure. Let's see if you can keep up. Y/n: Haha I can you old man lol ;) Not even a hi, hello, how is your night And they say chivalry is dead lol  Jimmy:  How is your night? You’re the tease, not me.  Y/n:  And you fell into my trap lol It’s better now I’m bed with a face mask on lol, how about you? 

Jimmy felt a cool breeze as he made himself comfortable, bringing the heavy comforter over his lower body. 

Jimmy:  Not too bad, it would be better if you were right next to me.  As the little spoon, of course Y/n:  Hmmm, that is a tempting idea  You’re tall, you look like you give good cuddles Jimmy:  Anything to make you smile You have a beautiful smile, by the way Y/n: Aww, thank you ;) You’re pretty handsome, ngl   Once again you’re my type haha  Jimmy:  And you’re a dream come true I wanna know more about you, y/n Want me to order an uber? 

Fuck. It was a dumb response, but Jimmy couldn’t control himself around Y/n. He just wanted to see her in person. Not even to touch her, but to see her. If he could lucky, even hold her. Jimmy just wanted the company and the warmth, not her body. 

Y/n:  Oh wow! Not even the first date yet haha  Guess you are right, chivalry truly isn’t dead lol

With his thoughts racing, Jimmy overthought her response, which he never did with anyone. 

Jimmy:  I was joking, don’t worry. Not a dirty dog for nothing I just wanna get to know you because you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen on the app so far.   Y/n:  I knew it, I can tell you are a good guy don’t worry :) I wanna get to know you too, I like talking to you…a lot I’ve got some questions to ask you

Jimmy felt his cheeks go red as he smiled, hearitng all three of her messages. 

Jimmy:  And you are a good girl, straight off the bat  I like talking to you too 😌 I’m an open book. Speak to me  Y/n:  It’s about your two truths and lie I’m good at this game, but I can’t figure it out. Walk me through it? Jimmy:  And what do I get in exchange with you?  Y/n:  My company, of course! Jimmy:  Fair point, y/n.  I said dinner, but I just remembered something. Are you free on Labor Day weekend? Specifically, Sunday?  Y/n:  Yes…why ask? Jimmy: You, me, suite tickets to Bruce Springsteen at Metlife. Uber, drinks, and dinner are all on me.  Anxiously awaiting her response, (Y/n) took her time to respond, but eventually came through.  Y/n:  That doesn’t sound too bad at all  Alright, you got me  But I have one rule  Jimmy:  Talk to me, baby  Y/n:  Answer my questions nothing but truthfully?  Jimmy:  Of course, honesty is key.  What are your questions, sweetheart? Y/n:  Do you play for the New York Rangers, Mr. Hobey Baker? 

Holding the phone in his hand, Jimmy looked at the message and the time. It was just a little past eleven. When he thought his night was ending, it was only beginning. 

Jimmy:  Y/n, what time do you have to get up tomorrow? Y/n: Not early Why ask? Jimmy: I’m not a good texter. How does call sound? Y/n: Not even the first date…and I’m not saying no, at all 

Within the minute, she sent her number. 

For the first time in a while, Jimmy didn’t feel lonely. It was a change in scenery—a nice one, too. 

[infinitegalahad]

people who let me wake up to this get a special place in heaven. firefly_fox how does it feel to hold my life in ur hands....

[infinitegalahad]

SOMEWHERE IN TRIBECA (SNEAK PEAK)

Pairing: Jimmy Vesey x Female Indentifying! Reader

Summary: In the world of online dating, you, a washed-up division one athlete getting her law degree, find yourself entangled with Jimmy Vesey, a hockey player who is half your age.

Word Count: 240

Warnings: Not for now, but massiveeee age difference. Will get into more details/tw's in the official release.

Notes: Phew! This is my first real piece of work in over nine months. College is a fucking place, people. Lots of good and bad happened. I'm gonna be posting about my disappearance in a life update soon. I'm going to be super busy this summer, but I need a distraction from my two jobs and the awful humidity. Oh, and the Rangers Playoff because WHAT is going on. Anywaysss, enjoy this little snippet! Add yourself to the taglist if you wanna hear more; chapter one should be out by tonight! :)

Taglist | Masterlist

Name: Jimmy

Age: 30

Location: New York

Hometown: Boston

Occupation: Sports Professional

School: Harvard

My Ideal Date: Trying out a new recipe together at home, followed by a cozy movie night with homemade popcorn and our favorite snacks. As long as I get to be the big spoon. 

A random fact about me that surprises people…: I read a lot. My favorite way to unwind after a long day is curling up with a good book and a cup of tea. Looking for a cuddle buddy. 

I'm Looking For: Long-term, open to short-term (Monogomy)

Two Truths and a Lie: I speak Mandarin fluently, I play for a professional sports team, and I love Sushi. 

My Anthem: Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band

(Y/n) and Jimmy, you'd two be the most compatible.

Name: (Y/n)

Age: 21

Location: New York

Hometown: New York

Occupation: Consultant and Law Student 

School: GW, UVA, Columbia Law School

My ideal weekend getaway destination is...: A charming bed and breakfast in a quaint coastal town, where I can spend my days exploring local shops, indulging in fresh seafood, and taking long walks along the beach. And most importantly, with someone else.

I'm Looking For: Firguing out my dating goals

A random fact about me that surprises people...: Despite my innocent appearance, I have a mischievous side that loves to tease and flirt shamelessly.

My Anthem: Fire Fly by Childish Gambino

Jimmy sent you a rose. 

You now have a new match.

[infinitegalahad]

Born to write porn, cursed to add the plot.

[infinitegalahad]

hey guys! it’s been one heck of a year. college was…yeah a lot. 1/4 to go! i’ll explain the lore later. i missed the lot of you!

i need a distraction from how poorly the rangers are doing! soooo..

[infinitegalahad]

F1 Academy Awareness Survey

Hello everyone! For one of my university classes I am creating a newspaper publication about the emergence of F1 Academy and the women who make the series possible. As a part of my research, I would really love to gather some fan opinions and experience regarding the series and women's motorsports as a whole. If you have time, please consider filling this survey out and reblogging it so it can reach as many people as possible! Thank you so much in advanced for your time, it's a huge help! Can't wait to share the final project with you guys.

[infinitegalahad]

Reblog if reading someone else’s fanfiction has helped you get through a hard day

[infinitegalahad]

GUYS! hi hello!!! so here’s some fun facts; i’m driving down to my college tmrw (technically today) and it’s a solid five hour drive. i’m going to be fairly quite bored, so i’m opening up my head canon and blurb requests for cillian murphy characters! you can request any role that’s played by him, and i’ll write a head canon or blurb!

*cough cough* TOMMY SHELBY *cough cough*

lol i have NO idea where that came from oops! as always, my asks are wide open (like my legs for cillian murphy) and send your headcanons/blurb requests in. if you wish! also jumpscare:

[infinitegalahad]

AO3 Etiquette

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

Kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished - you kudos.

If you liked it, you should comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it. Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity. Don't ruin that for them.

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLANTONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an implicit rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Avoid deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - orphan it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to you anymore.

This is a creative fanfiction archive. No essays on your insights or theories please. There are other places for that.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

[infinitegalahad]

Hello! Just wanna ask, how to access your masterlist? I've been dying to access it but it seems I cannot click anything and it directs me to google docs. Thank you very much.

hi yes! it’s currently at work in progress at the moment. i’m trying to add all of my stories onto there. it’ll up as soon as possible, but if you want to look at other more of the works, look for “carrie’s writing” in my search and you’ll find some of my stuff! albiet very old and cringey haha. hope this helps! ❤️

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - EPILOGUE

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: Looking up at the chalkboard, you see him. He’s Dr.Oppenheimer, but to you, he’ll always be Robert or Oppie. Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: Warnings are very spoiler, so well...be warned! Cancer, death, alcoholism, mentions of suicide (not by main characters and is mentioned once at the end), and overall a very bittersweet ending. Beware! This is in fact sad! Notes: for real, the end? it's here. not going to lie, i did get a little emotional writing this. the epilogue is loosely inspired by american prometheus, which made me cry in it's epilogue, just as it is doing to me now. this story has been such a rollercoaster, and I've had an amazing time writing it. thank you all for the amazing support, you guys really rock. I'm starting school soo and I'll be busy, but I'll get back into writing once i find my routinr. i hope you can enjoy this conclusion, and as a warning, apologies in advance! I love you all very much, and thank you so much for all the love! Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @chloriine36 @kodzuvk @amanda08319 Taglist | Masterlist

Marriage Certificate

Jurisdiction: Charlottesville, Virginia

Certificate Number: MCS123456789

Date of Marriage: June 1st, 1955

This is to certify that on the aforementioned date, in accordance with the laws of the City of Charlottesville, the following individuals entered into marriage:

Groom:

Name: Julius Robert Oppenheimer

Date of Birth: April 22, 1904

Residence: 91 Olden Lane

Bride:

Name: (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/l/n)

Date of Birth: (Y/dob), 1921

Residence: 105 Ivy Dr

Marriage Ceremony:

Date and Time: June 1st, 1955, at 5:00 PM

Officiant: Dr. Allen Hill

Title: Authorized Officiant

Witnesses:

Name: (y/b/n) (y/b/m/n) (y/l/n)

   Address: 10 Pennsylvania Avenue

Name: Hatomi Haruka Yamamoto-Bell

   Address: 600 Dittmar Oaks  

Under penalty of perjury, the undersigned parties declare that the information provided above is true and correct to the best of their knowledge.

Signatures:

_____________________________      _____________________________

Julius Robert Oppenheimer                (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/L/N)

Groom's Signature                                     Bride's Signature

_____________________________

Dr. Allen Hill

Officiant's Signature

_____________________________      _____________________________

 (y/b/n) (y/b/m/n) (y/l/n)                              Hitomi Haruka Yamamoto-Bell

Witness's Signature                                Witness's Signature

Seal: City of Charlottesville, Virginia

–

You and Robert married the same day of your graduation at UVA on June 1st, 1955. You let your parents know about your marriage and plans to move to Princeton. It took them time to process that you married your Physics Professor, but they accepted it once they met Robert and were impressed. They also enjoyed that you were only a train ride away from the city of Princeton. 

Robert kept to his promise of no more games. He stayed loyal and steadfast and was honest and loving to you. He doted on and adored you, showering you with both affection and gifts. You had kept all of the gifts he had given you at Berkeley, occasionally using the new perfumes if you couldn’t look for all of the new floral scents Robert had bought for you. Despite you both being busy with your jobs at Princeton and the local private high school, you two found time for each other. 

Your time together reminded you of those Friday study sessions at Berkeley, where you were a young girl and Robert was your professor who had been struck by “one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen”. Robert had helped you become a woman, and despite how many times you and he tried to move, you always fell back to each other. 

With your newfound marriage, you and Robert could be in public together. Of course, there was scrutiny and controversy of the age gap and both of your involvement with the Manhattan project. Still, Robert could hold your hand, and you could lean on his shoulder. Sure, there stares, but those could easily be ignored. At the many lavish dinners you attend, Robert would put his hand on your hip and whisper into your ear nothing but sweet yet dirty thoughts. You’d look at all of the judgemental onlookers, and simply hugged Robert, brightly smiling at them. 

It was one of those nights. It was like your Friday nights, but extended; talking about the day full of academics, making a delicious dinner, cleaning up said dinner, fucking either by the fire or on the bed, and lazing in each other’s embrace. 

You had your back curled to Robert as he held you. That one night, he let go for a short second, before you felt a cold metal on your neck and the sound of a clink of a clasp. 

“I saw this, and it made me think of you and the Bhagavad Gita,” Robert explained as he moved your hair back forward, “Do you like it?”

The necklace was a short gold chain with a pendant of the seven Chakras. You run your hand hovering the expensive gold and gems inside, smiling to yourself. You turn to Robert and place a peck on his lips, admiring the beautiful necklace. 

“It’s beautiful, Robert. Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

You repeat this sentence over and over as you wrap your arms around his neck, throwing him down to the bed and decorating his body with kisses. Ultimately, the two of you end of lovemaking once again, and remind yourselves to rewash the sheets. Again. 

The next week, you are forced to rewash your sheets as Robert, per usual, fucks you after the University of Washington last minute declines his offer to speak at their commencement ceremony. Like old times, you claw your nails down his neck and scream his name until he finishes inside of you, making your belly feel all warm. You smile and hope, for once, there’s some good news for the future continuation of you and Robert.

It takes many tries, but on January 5th of 1958, you give birth to Thaïs Jackie Oppenheimer. She’s a healthy baby girl. You nearly died giving birth, but it was worth seeing her curl into Robert’s arms as if it were a natural instinct. Even as a child, she’s got the blue Oppenheimer’s eyes and your fiery personality. After Thaïs birth, you remained in the ICU for a while. In a window outside of your room, you would see Robert in the distance as he overlooked Thaïs bed, talking to her and promising her nothing but the world. In your recovering pain, it made you cry. 

Eventually, you returned back to work as a school-teacher, splitting your time with the au-pair while taking care of Thaïs. She’s a very vocal child, and like Robert, highly precocious. By the time she’s six, she can name every rock and flower in your garden by their scientific name. Not to mention, she can hold more basic conversation in Latin and Greek than you, thanks to Robert and his bedtime stories of Ancient Latin and Greek myths. 

Dinner is a family affair. As the three of you all cook, you find it hard to keep up with Robert and Thaïs’s long conversation that switches between Greek and Latin, ranging from what to next in meal prep, the rocks Thaïs’s collected at school today, and what toy Robert will buy her next if she behaves. You can follow the basics, but you smile and keep yourself, cooing and kissing your newborn baby boy, Elias. 

Each night, Robert worships you like you’re a goddess. As you read his book recommendations, he decorates your body with kisses and calls you his “temple”, thanking you for being the Athena to his Prometheus and giving him life. You could not be happier. 

But bliss is temporal, not everlasting. 

First, it’s the apparent hoarseness. Robert thinks it’s cold, but that’s until he’s coughing up blood two weeks later. Also, with the neck and ear pain, you grow worried, and unfortunately, your worst fears come to light. Robert’s heavy smoking did not help his case, and in late 1965, he was diagnosed with throat cancer. 

You had quit smoking a long time ago, long before the birth of your children, but Robert continued. Since you had met him, he had always been a smoker no matter what, falling from a cigarette pack to multiple pipes a day. The cancer is infectious and both of you know it’s in fact very bad, and it’s only going to continue to get worse but not fast, but slowly and painfully. Robert has a persistent cough in which he tries to hide from you and the children but fails to. His skin becomes as gray as his thinning hair, and he’s losing weight faster than you can count. 

After his diagnosis, there are many sleepless nights between you and Robert. You are both worried about each other in your own ways. One particular night, Robert sits on the edge of the bed. The bones in his back are visible, and you feel like you can see the bones in his back. He’s handsome, but so terribly sick all at once. Crawling from under the sheets, you quietly crawl toward him and hug him from behind. You sob into his shoulders, and he grabs your arms.

“Stop worrying,” He reassures you as he kisses your shaking palm, “You’ll be okay, love.”

“Robert, stop. It’s not about me. It’s about you,” You sob uncontrollably, “I’m scared, Robert. Not for you, for me.”

That night, Robert holds you and tells you that things will improve. He doesn’t promise it, though. 

In late 1966, Robert underwent surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy, which were all unsuccessful. 

Robert has done so much for you and protected you from so much. Now, it’s your turn to do so. 

When he breaks the news that, realistically, he’s going to die within the next six months, you and his plan to bring Thaïs and Elias to Saint John. 

Robert can’t do the things he used to do. Robert is still as handsome as he always has been, but he’s more frail and sickly looking, a shell of the man he once was. The only thing he can do is spend time with you and his children, valuing his time, which is running out faster than he can count. He builds wooden lodges with houses with Elias, collects seashells and rocks with Elias, and lies in your lap as you read him all of the old books and Greek myths the two of you used to read together. 

Robert tries to make you a Martini one night, but he struggles in the kitchen. A glass drops and you run in, to find both of his hands shaking. He confesses to you that he can’t keep his hands still, and he can’t stop apologizing after. You smile, holding back tears, telling him it’s okay. 

You, Robert, and your family soon return to Princeton. At that time, you call and invite people who are close to you, Robert, so he gets the chance to say goodbye. Kitty and his children come by. They're as devastated as you are, but they thank you. Kitty, for the first time, cries in front of you, and says you have a beautiful family; thanking you for taking care of Robert. You break down in front of her, and Kitty hugs you. 

It’s clear that Robert’s in his final days of life. He can’t remember or speak coherently as he used to. Your children are very aware of this, and you prepare them for the worst that is to come. 

It’s nighttime, and Robert’s in bed, saying he’s going to read a book that you’d enjoyed. You make him peppermint tea downstairs to help him fall asleep. As you make the tea, you can hear Robert’s horse voice as he talks to their children. If you bend your ear further, you can hear his voice shaking as he tells his children that he loves them more than anything, and to treat you, their mother, with nothing but love and respect. 

You go upstairs with the tea you’ve prepared for Robert. He thanks you and smiles as if he’s seen you for the first time, refusing to let go of your hand with a weak grasp. As you change quickly into your pajamas, you jump into bed with him and hold him carefully, not wanting to hurt him. 

“Sweetling?” He says your term of endearment in a sing-song voice. You look up, fully attentive. 

“Yes, Oppie?”

With a trembling hand, he holds out an aged navy book with gold print; Hades and Persephone. 

“Can you please read this to me?”

Once you grasp the book, tears begin to form in your eyes. As much as you want to cry, you hold your tears back and nod your head. Leaning against Robert, you open to the book’s preface and see all of his annotations inside. Some of them are about you. You’re about to start reading when Robert, in his classic fashion, grabs your hand and holds it to his chest. 

“Y/n?”

You don’t look over as you close your eyes. 

“Yes, Robert?”

“I love you, y/n”

A tear falls down your cheek, but you don’t let Robert see it. 

“I love you too, Robert.”

That night, Robert falls into a coma. Three days later, he dies. He was sixty-two years old. 

Once you have the funeral and dump his ashes into the US Virgin Islands water, you and your two children move down to Williamsburg, Virginia. You don’t want to be in Princeton anymore, as if it reminds you of Robert. Your family recommends you move back to New York City or Charlottesville, but you refuse; they all have Robert’s name written on it. 

In Williamsburg, you grieve heavily at losing your first and only love, but motherhood keeps you busy. You get a job as an assistant professor at William and Mary, and just as you usually do, you cope with the pain until it becomes numb, losing yourself in your work and children. It’s what Robert would want for you. 

Each night, after you make dinner by yourself, you go to your room and drink, reading all of Robert’s books from his reading list that shaped his mind. 

One night, you’re drunk and sad. You’re primarily drunk at night, hazy and unaware, but some nights you are sad, not always. A ten-year-old Elias walks into your room, asking why you are crying so much. 

For a second, you think he’s Robert with his big blue eyes and puff of dark hair, which makes you sob even more. 

After Robet’s death, Kitty writes to you frequently to ensure you’re doing okay alone with the kids. You write back, and in her final years, the two of you build a friendship until her untimely death in 1972. You speak at her funeral and say in your speech that you hope she’s reunited with Robert. 

Thaïs and Elias both grow into fine adults. Thaïs goes to study chemistry and history at Davis while Elias studies nuclear physics at Princeton, which you know would make Robert proud of both of them. 

Toni, Oppenheimer’s daughter from Kitty’s marriage, committed suicide in 1977. Robert gave her the ranch in New Mexico. Peter refuses to take it, so it’s given to Thaïs. For Thanksgiving and Christmas, you meet Thaïs and Elias there to celebrate the holidays, taking them horseback riding to explore the beauty of New Mexico that Robert once showed to you. 

Thaïs and Elias grow old, and have their own lifes. They stop visiting for holidays, as they are preoccupied with their own families and affairs. You never get angry at either of them for doing so; it’s human nature. 

And so you retreat back to the island of St.John, where your beach house is. It holds both fond and sad memories of Robert, especially within his last years. It’s probably not the best idea if you are out there alone, but you manage to keep yourself distracted with the television, books, and old photos surrounding you. You keep yourself busy and entertained, only getting sad at night about Robert. 

One night, you’re reading on Robert’s old chair. There’s a peppermint tea that’s untouched by your side, along with a fully drinken bottle of wine. With a blanket over you, you read Robert’s old, annotated copy of Hades and Perspehone. You’ve read it a thousand times by now, but the story never gets old to you. It will never get old for you. 

As you reach the end, in which Persephone stays with Hades, your eyes begin to feel heavy. Your hands and fingers feel tingly and heavy. With your eyelids feeling droopy and breathing feeling short, you rest your head back and into the chair. Everything slowly goes back. You're not sad to be going; infact, you’re happy. 

Sometime later, you awaken in a hazy world. It’s an alternate reality since you feel much younger, sitting at a desk, and looking down at your book; it’s an introductory book to Physics with your navy notebook, your name taped on the side. 

Looking up at the chalkboard, you see him; Robert. He’s Dr.Oppenheimer, but to you, he’ll always be Robert or Oppie. He’s got his cigarette in hand, and those damn blue eyes that you loved. Oh, how you’ve missed them. He looks directly at you in the class, and you directly at him. There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.

Robert smiles at you.

Your heart skips a beat. 

You sigh and smile right back at him. At last, you’re home. 

[infinitegalahad]

robert brault / elizabitchtaylor / marguerite duras / edvard munch / kazuo ishiguro / edgar allan poe / lisa kleypas / frederic william burton / plato / emery allen

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5 (FINALE)

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: With a promise to keep in touch after Los Alamos, the two of you exchanged letters regularly. You shared your experiences, thoughts, and plans for the future. It was comforting to maintain that connection despite the physical distance between you two. And then the letters stopped. Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: N/A Notes: and with that, the story is ended! for the most part, the epilogue is coming very soon. as i always say, thank you so much for the support. waking up and seeing the reblogs, likes, and comments brings a smile to my face. it's gotten me back into writing, and i don't know hat i'd do without y'all's support. so once again, thank you ALL for being you're amazing selves and i love you all very dearly. this story has a special place in my heart. i gave oppie and the reader the best ending i could, and i try to continue that in the epilogue. this one is short, so most of it is up for the imagination. the epilogue with leaving a lot of room as well, so get ready for that very soon. if you've been here since the beginning, thank you, and i hope this is a good happy ending :]

Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelby @chloriine36 @kodzuvk @amanda08319 Taglist | Masterlist

As the project at Los Alamos came to a close and the war finally ended, you found yourself at a crossroads.

You and Robert had naturally reconvened, once again turning serious, knowing that you wanted to continue your education and pursue further opportunities. Despite our strong connection, you believed you both needed to explore your paths.

With a promise to keep in touch after Los Alamos, the two of you exchanged letters regularly. You shared our experiences, thoughts, and plans for the future. It was comforting to maintain that connection despite the physical distance between us.

After living at home for too long, you decided to take a gap year and embark on a sailing adventure with your brothers in the Mediterranean. It was a chance to recharge, explore the world, and gain a new perspective on life. During that year, you occasionally received letters from Robert, updating me on his work and his struggles. He was going through a difficult phase, facing challenges and uncertainties.

While you understood that Robert was going through a rough patch, his emotional turmoil and busy schedule made it harder for him to maintain the same level of communication you had initially. Despite his love for you, he seemed to be withdrawing, perhaps out of a desire to shield me from his struggles. He often mentioned feeling like he had "hurt me enough," which you interpreted as his way of not wanting to burden you further.

Our relationship faced a significant strain during this period. I tried my best to be understanding and patient, giving him the space he seemed to need. However, it was clear that our paths were diverging, at least for the time being. You continued to pursue your education while he grappled with his own challenges.

Leaving behind the world of physics, you embraced a new chapter of my life by pursuing a Master’s in English at UVA. It was a drastic change from your previous field; you wanted to distance yourself. As you immersed yourself in your studies, news of Oppenheimer's security hearing reached you through various sources. His situation was a reminder of the complexities and challenges that can arise from your choices.

During this time, your correspondence dwindled, and I pondered the reasons behind it. Eventually, all of the letters stopped. You assumed Robert’s legal and personal troubles had taken precedence, making it difficult to maintain regular communication. It bothered you a little at first, but with your studies, you found yourself distracted. 

Groves reached out to you to testify at Oppenheimer's hearing. Weighing the pros and cons, you declined. It wasn't an easy choice, but you believed that your absence could offer a kind of distance that might be beneficial. Testifying could have complicated our strained connection, and you also saw no point or need to interact with the past. 

Eventually, you found yourself both connected and disconnected from the events surrounding Oppenheimer's hearings. While following the proceedings to some extent, your academic pursuits often took precedence. It was a balancing act between staying informed and maintaining your own academic progress.

Life has a way of moving forward, and as you worked toward your Doctoral degree, you built a new foundation for yourself. The hearings and the events surrounding them served as a reminder of the complex intersections between personal and professional lives, the consequences of one's actions, and the paths you each choose to take. 

You hadn’t heard from Hatomi since you graduated early from Berkeley. She’s found your number, and when you pick the home, she’s thrilled to hear your voice. She’s in Texas with her husband and newborn; congratulating you on graduating from UVA. Hatomi wants to come, and you’re happy to invite her for an escape. As you catch up, she mentions she’s bringing a surprise, but you don’t think much about it. 

As time flies, the day of your graduation is rather hot in early June. 

You never got to experience an actual graduation, so now was your time. The graduation perfectly fit UVA’s loud energy, the whooing, lots of alcohol, and an overall extension of the celebration. It’s boiling outside, and you are sweating in your dark cap and gown. Once you get your diploma, all you want to do is leave; but of course, Hatomi and your family make you stay for forced photos. Some of them are genuine, such as Hatomi hugging you crying and your brothers spraying you with champagne. They make you smile and laugh as if you were a child. 

Your parents are in conversation with other people when Hatomi drags your arm through the crowd. 

“There you are,” She mutters as she grabs your elbow and drags you to the crowd, “Robert! She’s right here.”

No. You force yourself to think it’s not what it actually is. There’s no way it can. Any minute you’d wake up and think that's some bizarre dream. 

But it’s not. 

The brown porkpie hat, an oversized suit hanging on his slender body, pipe, and bluest (and saddest) eyes you’ve ever seen are Robert, who stands right in front of you. 

His eyes widen, and so do yours. The two of you stare at each other in a state of happiness and shock. Hatomi checks her fake watch and says she has to leave, but she’ll find the two of you later, and in her words, most certainly with one another. She runs off, and you try to catch her before she leaves, but he’s gone with the wind. And for the first time in two years, you’re alone with Robert. 

“Congratulations,” Robert says with his hands on his hips. He wears a similar to suit to the one he wore on the first day of your Physics class at Berkeley, “I’m proud of all you’ve done, y/n.”

“Thank you,” You reply with a blush. You fiddle with your fingers as you come up with a response, “So, she invited you?”

“Yes, and no. I heard from some sources that you were down here, and well, I wanted to come and support you,” Robert admitted. He looked like he wanted to say something else, and so did you. 

“How have you been?” He casually asked, knowing that the response to that was lengthy. He was going to be, and both of you knew that. 

“That’s the question I should be asking you. Here, do you want to go somewhere more private?”

–

Right outside of the Rotunda on UVA’s campus is the more intimate place you can get. 

The grandeur of Thomas Jefferson's vision unfolds before you, a canvas where neoclassical elegance meets the lush embrace of the outdoors. While gardens bloom with nature's palette, from the elegance of the roses to the joyful vitality of wildflowers, the botanical companions of the Rotunda offer their form of inspiration. Trees stand as venerable witnesses, their branches swaying in the breeze as if whispering secrets only they have heard.

You and Robert sit by the water fountain, each smoking a cigarette from Robert’s container. As you sit side by side, the idea of grabbing his hand strikes you. You don’t grab it, but you notice that Robert looks older; more tired. 

“They humiliated you,” You mention, taking a blow of your cigarette. 

Robert looks over and holds back a long sigh. 

“I was a fool to think that the weapon would end all wars. It didn’t just end all war; but created more,” There’s regret and sadness to his voice. His eyes are still blue, but they lack the fiery spark you once saw. 

“I told them that the more they knew, the worse it would become–”

“And then they threw you to the wolves. You knew, everyone knew,” You alluded towards the scientists on the Los Alamos project. Not all of them.

As you watched and read about the trial, some of the very scientists Robert had worked with had turned against him; accusing him of being a communist and using the bomb for a Soviet advantage. All of the claims were false, only used as a way to bring Robert down for wanting to step back from creating another Holocaust. Strauus humiliated him, causing Robert to lose both his security clearance and his public image. Not That you ever liked Strauss that much anyways. 

When he contacted you, offering to pay a sum of money to testify against Robert and make it seem as if he took advantage of you and infected you with “red commy blood”. Seeing that word, you tore the letter up and threw it into the trash. You’re glad you did. 

Robert reaches for another cigarette and ensures his inhale is as long as his exhale. Robert puts his hands on the fountain’s concrete, an inch away from yours. It’s just like old times; he doesn’t say it, but he wants it. 

“Well, they voted against Strauss. If it had not been for Hill, I would have possibly gone to jail, or worse,” Robert remarked, “I heard you were one of the scientists who signed a petition to defend. Is that true?”

Robert thinks that you saved him, in which maybe, you did. You thought about the rejection to support him through the Trial was a topic for another conversation, so you simply told him that other scienets from the Los Alamos project reached out for your support, and you gladly helped. Robert thanked you, and for the first time, he genuinely smiled that day. He looks down at you with his gray, shaking hand reaching closer. 

“You look beautiful,” Robert remarks, his index finger covering your pinky. 

His gray eyes, vibrant with emotion, gaze down at you. His hand, which trembles slightly, inches closer, reaching out as if to bridge the distance between you both. The vulnerability of his gesture resonates, and as his shaking hand comes to rest, his index finger covers your pinky with a delicate touch. The gesture is small yet intimate, a connection that transcends words and speaks volumes of your bond.

His comment surprises you, and a soft blush spreads across your cheeks like you were once eighteen, when in fact you are on the cusp of your eighteenth birthday. His candid compliment, his words like a gentle caress, evokes an adolescent flutter within you. You meet his gaze with a smile, your palm instinctively opening so that his warm hand can envelop yours. His touch is a balm against the uncertainties that linger, offering a sense of comfort and belonging that grounds you.

Laughter escapes your lips as you respond, your words light and teasing. "Thank you. And, I must say, you don't look too bad for an old man." The playful banter between you is a testament to the ease with which you converse, the shared moments of vulnerability building a bridge between the past and the present. In his presence, you find yourself rediscovering a sense of youthfulness, as if the weight of time and age fades away, leaving only the unfiltered connection that pulses between you.

The exchange is more than words; it affirms the unspoken understanding and attraction that weaves between your interactions. In this moment, the age gap that might have once seemed significant melts away, leaving only the genuine connection and shared emotions that unite you and Robert.

“What are you doing after this?”

“After this?”

“No, sweetling. After Virgina.” 

You look at him and let out a dry chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. Your leg slightly shakes. You really don’t know. 

Robert senses that, and contemplates his words for a second before speaking, all while holding your hand. 

“Y/n. Come with me to Princeton.”

He turns his body towards you. A smile grows bigger on your face, and as you laugh, he grabs his hands and holds them close to his chest. 

“I’m being serious. There’s a school you can teach English at if you wish when I’m at Princeton. I have a house there as well; we could both live quite comfortably,” Robert began to promise, “If that is what you wish. I promise I won’t be silent again, y/n.”

The weight of Robert's promise hangs in the air, each word a promise that dances on the precipice of your heart. His proposition carries both allure and uncertainty, a tantalizing glimpse into a future that might hold comfort and connection. The notion of teaching English at a school and living in a house by his side in Princeton sounds like a dream woven from the fabric of possibilities.

His hands, warm and steady, envelop yours in a gesture that feels both grounding and beseeching. His eyes, a reflection of his earnestness, search your face with an intensity that speaks of the depth of his commitment. His words carry a fervent sincerity, a vow to never repeat the silence that once separated you.

Yet, a tempest of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind that tugs you in conflicting directions. The prospect he offers is appealing, a chance to share a life alongside him in a world of comfort and security. But the echo of past uncertainties lingers, a reminder that trust is a delicate thread that can easily fray.

His plea for your trust echoes through your mind, and you find yourself looking down, grappling with your own feelings and insecurities. The question of what you truly want, not just in this moment but in life, looms over you like a specter. 

The struggle is both internal and profound, a reflection of the complexities that color your relationship with Robert. You love him, but could you truly love him?

As you seek an answer within the depths of your thoughts, his gaze remains unwavering, a testament to his patience and his desire for your understanding. And then, a sentence that breaks the silence. 

"Marry me, then."

The words hang in the air like a suspended breath, each syllable laden with a weight that carries the potential to reshape your future. His proposal is unexpected and profound, a leap of faith that surpasses promises and stakes a claim on shared tomorrows. His intense and unwavering gaze meets yours as he waits for your response, his vulnerability laid bare.

In this moment, the path forward seems uncertain yet beckoning, a crossroads that holds the possibility of embracing love and commitment despite the hesitations that have held you back. The decision is yours to make, a choice that could rewrite the narrative of your connection with Robert, weaving together the threads of trust, uncertainty, and the profound desire to be known and cherished.

You’re silent, with your mouth in a o shape, thinking of what you should do. You think for a good while and look down, before looking right back at Robert. You’re not going to say yes–but you’re also not going to say no. 

“There’s a courthouse down the block. I think it’s open until five on Saturdays.”

Robert is breathless and looks down in disbelief, before turning to look back at you. A spark of realization ignites within you two, the reality of the situation crystallizing in your mind. The choices before you are clear, and a surge of determination surges through you. Time is of the essence, and the chance to seize the future you both desire hangs in the balance.

“What’s the time?”

Through his tight and reassuring hold, you glance at your watch. 

“4:35 pm.”

Robert smiles at you, and you smile back. 

“Then we best should hurry, my bride.”