< WHAT IS LOVE? >

0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]# / PROMPT

[attr="class","winkbody"]
Fruitcake ice cream donut dessert jelly beans toffee marzipan biscuit cheesecake. Biscuit croissant gummies cotton candy jelly fruitcake chocolate dessert. Ice cream lollipop liquorice. Liquorice sugar plum dragée oat cake chocolate bar liquorice pudding biscuit. Wafer gummi bears lollipop chocolate cake liquorice jelly beans sweet donut. Gummies pastry liquorice jelly. Jelly beans biscuit oat cake jelly-o dragée cake cookie. Tootsie roll soufflé ice cream muffin danish gingerbread. Dessert candy lemon drops icing pastry bear claw jujubes biscuit lollipop. Gingerbread gummi bears cotton candy tart.
[break][break]
Cookie brownie jelly beans cake tart jujubes. Caramels cake danish. Liquorice oat cake halvah soufflé cheesecake apple pie marshmallow cookie. Jujubes fruitcake tart gingerbread tiramisu carrot cake. Gummies caramels chocolate bar. Cookie sesame snaps gummies caramels gingerbread powder. Dessert biscuit lemon drops carrot cake pastry cupcake pudding. Muffin dragée powder. Cake halvah tart jelly cupcake marshmallow.
[break][break]
Sweet toffee ice cream. Icing biscuit cake powder chocolate bar gummies danish tiramisu gummi bears. Gummi bears toffee powder chupa chups. Cupcake marzipan chupa chups. Croissant powder dessert. Cake jelly sweet roll halvah jujubes jelly-o.


donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jun 27, 2019 20:46:06 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]1 / FIREFLIES

[attr="class","winkbody"]
The light a firefly emits is among the most efficient in the world. Nearly 100% of energy -
[break][break]
“Are you actually doing the assignment?” Jenna said incredulously. She looked at Vivian, and then back at the assignment, beginning to laugh. “Holy shit. You’re actually doing it?”
[break][break]
Vivian’s cheeks turned pink. She set her pencil down on the table, and stopped underlining the article that she was annotating.
[break][break]
Jenna somehow made her feel very small, and unsettled, but at the same time she had this desperate urge inside of her that made her want to impress the other girl half of the time because she was pretty and popular even though that meant nothing in the world because it meant something to Vivian (and everyone else who went to their school, which meant that it meant something to Vivian’s world.) (Besides, Vivian was sheltered-and-studious and didn’t really know that much about the world besides that everyone talked about it like she wasn’t alive on the same planet that everyone else was.)
[break][break]
“I thought you invited me over to work on the reading,” Vivian responded, trying to make her voice cool and unbothered. She tried ridiculously hard to sound Adult in front of Jenna and knew it, and it was so obvious because despite how hard she struggled to seem untouchable.
[break][break]
“I mean, yeah,” Jenna said, laughing as she shook her head, “but - Jesus Christ, Vivian. It’s like you don’t even know how to be a real person, do you?”
[break][break]
“I - “ she fell silent, and her throat worked around a thousand different words. It kind-of stung but not-really, and Vivian tried to brush it off because being worked up in response to a joke like that seemed immature and overly emotional. (She hated people who were immature and overly emotional. Vivian, not Jenna.) She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, challenging. “I’m sorry, Jenna,” she said coolly, trying to grasp for the familiar defensive coil of red-hot anger that burned in her chest whenever she felt humiliated (and she didn’t but she did, somehow, which was ridiculous, because, again, immature and - ) “I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to somehow figure out that you wanted to do something else other study for bio rather than just assuming that we were going to do bio - you know, like you said we were.”
[break][break]
“Woah,” Jenna said, frowning, and the mirth on her face evaporated like steam-from-water. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”
[break][break]
“Nothing,” Vivian said, and she was already shrinking back but she forced her eyes to narrow and (tried to) stop her voice from wavering. It just made her sound like she was struggling to keep quiet even though she wanted to yell which Vivian didn’t know was true or not yet. All she knew was that she was upset and upset about being upset. “What do you think it means?”
[break][break]
Jenna’s lips curled up into a grin, but she looked furious and hurt and wounded which just wasn’t fair. “I think it means you’re being a bitch,” she said mirthlessly. “And for no reason. Are you really mad because I don’t want to work on an assignment about ‘10 Fun Facts about Fireflies?’ Are you fucking kidding me?”
[break][break]
“Maybe I’m mad because you keep on treating me like a joke,” Vivian snapped, standing up, and she flinched at the way her chair’s legs screeched when she stood. She picked up her assignment, trying to hide the way her hands were shaking, and slid it into her folder. “I’m going to the bathroom.”



donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jun 22, 2019 3:05:06 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]2 / SUMMER BLOCKBUSTER

[attr="class","winkbody"]
“How about this for the future title of the front-page news: Sexy Girlfriend Saves Useless Boyfriend, Experts Stumped on Why?”
[break][break]
“That’s terrible; it’s literally your job to save me,” Marcus says. His voice is weird and a little bit nasally - I’m carrying him in a fireman’s carry while we make our way to the Jupiter Tech infirmary, because bridal position would give him too much dignity. People are staring. “Also, I’m not your boyfriend. And you’re hardly sexy.”
[break][break]
“The papers disagree,” I argue, because it’s true, they do (on both counts). We have a framed set of magazine clippings back at our flat that have (at least) one paragraph detailing my appearance with flowery adjectives. I think it’s hilarious, but Marcus always looks at them with a face that suggests he’s sucked on a lemon. And Marcus is basically my real life Lois Lane - he keeps on getting getting into dangerous situations, and I keep on saving him (This is the first time he’s gotten kidnapped, though.) The papers insist we’re having a passionate affair. “And I wouldn’t mind dating you, you know. I could retire and still have enough money for my great-great-grandchildren to spend the rest of their lives jobless and filthy rich.”
[break][break]
“I knew you were only after me for the money,” Marcus says sadly, voice oversaturated with a theatrical kind of despair. “I’ll have to break the news to Gran. She’ll be heartbroken.”
[break][break]
“Maybe she’ll finally kick the bucket,” I reflect. “You’ve been waiting for that, haven’t you?”
[break][break]
“The family funds will be overjoyed by the addition of her life insurance,” Marcus says, voice mild. “I can’t say that I won’t be, either.”
[break][break]
The security guard walking past us makes a briefly horrified expression, which is to be expected, but Gran is actually the name of Marcus’ cat. I almost want to stop and reassure him that no one is plotting the death of any family members here. (She doesn’t have life insurance.) “It’s a bit sad that you won’t be able to continue profiting off of her, anyway.”
[break][break]
“She was a freeloader since the start,” he points out. “Hardly brought me any income at all.”
[break][break]
“Was! Already speaking in past tense?”
[break][break]
“What can I say? I move on fast.”
[break][break]
“Have your sights set on a new target, then?”
[break][break]
“Oh, yes,” he says. “I’ve got my eyes set on a new moneymaking scene. We’re going to make a film, you and I, and we’re going to star in it. And it’s going to be about today, when I got kidnapped.”
[break][break]
“You got kidnapped yesterday.”
[break][break]
“Well, it wasn’t a very memorable kidnapping. My memories of the event are a little blurry.”
[break][break]
“Right,” I say, nodding sagely. “Anyway, the movie?”
[break][break]
“It’s going to be the next summer blockbuster,” he continues, and his words are beginning to slur at the edges, just a bit. Exhaustion. “And I’ll call it: Marcus, the Beautiful Jupiter Tech Heir, Kidnapped by Supervillains and Saved by a Madwoman 1.”
[break][break]
1?




donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]3 / SWEETS & TREATS

[attr="class","winkbody"]
“And you have baked before?” Juliet asked doubtfully, planting her hands on her hips. Her eyes looked upon the mysteriously orange frosting before refocusing on Lauren. “I mean, I’m not doubting you, Lauren, but the frosting is orange. Is it supposed to be orange? We haven’t even added coloring.”
[break][break]
“It’s supposed to be orange,” Lauren said, with the self-confidence of one who knew that they were doing something wrong but couldn’t be bothered to care about it in the end. She pointed her rubber spatula at the iPad on the other end of the kitchen counter. “It says so on Martha’s Cookbook, see?”
[break][break]
“I don’t think it does,” Juliet replied, her tone of voice already mournful, but still she sighed and tied her hair up resignedly. “Alright, what do you need me to do?”
[break][break]
“If you could pour the batter into the pan - “ Lauren gestured. “I’ll finish up this bit here.”
[break][break]
The pan was shaped like a four-leaf clover. With every passing moment, Juliet was growing increasingly concerned about their end product and what it would look like (or taste like). It wasn’t that cakes with orange icing and in the shapes of leaves had to taste terrible, and she was sure that Lauren was a fairly proficient cook, but if anything went pear-shaped, Juliet would be cleaning up the mess.
[break][break]
“Perhaps I should have come earlier,” she muttered, decidedly to herself, and reached for the bowl with the batter. With careful, steady hands, she began to pour it into the container. Music switched on somehow - perhaps Lauren putting on a playlist on her phone? - and with her friend decidedly distracted, Juliet only glanced behind herself once before quietly setting down the now-empty bowl.
[break][break]
The batter had a mysteriously stretchy consistency, not unlike slime. She bent down slightly, and then, pressing her fingers to the surface with a grimace, she whispered: ”All’s well that ends well.”
[break][break]
The batter seemed to spring to life - it smoothed out under her fingers and the color turned milder; the scent sweetened and lightened all at once. Behind Juliet was the sound of Lauren’s voice, bell-bright if slightly off-key, and Juliet straightened up, business-like, and removed her hand from the batter. “I’ve finished pouring,” she said, brisk, and turned to Lauren. “Are you sure the icing is alright?”




donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]4 / SUNBURN

[attr="class","winkbody"]
“I’ve got an idea,” Nadia said. She sat up; the motion seemed to attract the attention of everyone around them somehow, gazes drawn to her shiny red leather jacket and knee-high boots. Zoe couldn’t fathom why.
[break][break]
(She privately believed Nadia looked like a walking stereotype - the bad girl one, the one that YA authors seemed to think always existed in every highschool. The ones YA authors thought were aptly described as cool and intimidating.) (Frankly, Nadia just looked like an embarrassment. A walking cliche.) “The Running Birds.”
[break][break]
“God,” Zoe said, voice absolutely filled with contempt, and, then thinking, she tacked on: “Someone save us.”
[break][break]
“I think it could be quite nice,” Justine said thoughtfully. Zoe felt herself soften. She was nicer to Justine compared Nadia, but she wouldn’t admit it for the world. She probably didn’t need to. “Maybe if we changed a word or two…”
[break][break]
“Please,” said Zoe. “It’s terrible.”
[break][break]
“I thought it worked well,” Nadia said defensively, crossing her arms across her chest. “It makes sense. The Rolling Stones. The Talking Heads. We could be The Running Birds."
[break][break]
“We don’t even make the same kind of music as those bands,” Zoe pointed out, acerbic. Nadia scoffed and looked away, silently ceding, and Zoe reveled in her victory. “Shouldn’t our band name at least make sense? Otherwise, what we would name ourselves after? Random words? Should I go around shouting that our name is Scab? Sunburn? Itchy Rash?”
[break][break]
Justine propped her chin up with her palm, fingers framing her cheek. She tapped them against the side of her head, and nudged Zoe with the side of her shoulder. “I don’t know,” she said. “Rash actually sounds kind of metal.”




donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jun 27, 2019 20:49:08 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]5 / HUMIDITY

[attr="class","winkbody"]
“And he’s alright?” Emily asked, leaning down to make sure. Her long brown hair escaped past her shoulders and brushed against Michael’s nose, and she had to lean back slightly to stop disturbing him. “Sorry!”
[break][break]
“Ngh,” said Michael, quite miffed.
[break][break]
“No, he’s alright,” assured Kevin, although he maintained a tight grip on Michael’s shoulder from where he was kneeling next to his friend on the ground. Michael was laying down, back to the cold tile of the shop, and his eyes were firmly squeezed shut. “It’s just the humidity. He’s being dramatic.”
[break][break]
“Oh,” she said doubtfully. “If you say so. He doesn’t look all that well to me, though.”
[break][break]
Kevin’s fingers seemed to wrap around Michael’s shoulders even more firmly, if possible, and he flashed a smile that was all genuine sweetness-and-gratitude at her. “I’m sure,” he said, with a touch of force, just enough to seem insistent but not enough to seem rude. “Thank you. It’s - He’ll be fine.”
[break][break]
“Mmpf,” Michael said, louder, and twisted his head around. ”Kev.”
[break][break]
“Absolutely fine,” Kevin repeated comfortingly to Emily.
[break][break]
“I’m mel,” Michael said, and he opened his eyes by a sliver. He glanced at Emily, and then, suddenly turning weary, he closed his eyes. “-ting.”
[break][break]
Kevin released Michael. Michael grumbled and rolled over to his side, curling up. “Anyway,” Kevin carried on, unhurried, “If we’re imposing on you like this, we should at least buy something, don’t you think? Do you have something cold?”
[break][break]
“I’ll see what I have,” Emily responded, still not understanding what was going on, but Kevin seemed to have enough of it under control. She nodded (mostly to herself) and turned around, heading towards the back, and tried to put all manner of intrusive thoughts outside of her head. It was just a very hot day, that was all, and the heat was as sweltering and blistering as it could be. Michael was probably just dehydrated or very hot, and that - while worrying - could be fixed.
[break][break]
But there was something strange about the whole affair, wasn’t there? And since when had Michael and Kevin been friends?




donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jun 27, 2019 20:58:47 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]6 / BEACH DAY

[attr="class","winkbody"]
“But,” Kate said, halfway through her monologue of how cute Heather-in-Sixth was, “I don’t think - hic - you? Have you ever liked - hic - anyone?”
[break][break]
She was hiccuping. They were sitting together, Kate-and-Cath, the two of them sitting on the part of the car that was right in front of the big front window (what was it called?) and using their arms to prop themselves up, and they had taken the time to drive all the way down to the beachside and were parked right-there, in the little parking lot that was close enough to the water that they could look at the waves if they squinted.
[break][break]Kate had forgotten to bring water inside the car out, and now she felt too lazy to go and fetch it - resulting in her endless hiccuping. Cath wondered how the two of them must have looked. (Drunk, probably.)
[break][break]
“Maybe,” Kate said, undeterred: “Maybe - hic - maybe you’re incapable. Of liking - hic - someone. Stone-hearted Cath.”
[break][break]
“Oh, fuck you,” Cath said, but she meant it affectionately: it came out all topsy-turvy, warm and jagged at the edges with her voice. Sleep-drunk; marred with the sound of her exhaustion.
[break][break]
Kate wriggled her eyebrows at Cath.
[break][break]
“You’re so thirsty,” Cate stressed, drawing out the word so she sounded more like a snake. Thirssssty. Her tired brain found this particularly hilarious: Kate was thirsty! In both senses of the word! The revelation thrilled her.
[break][break]
“Stop - hic - laughing,” Kate said, mildly cross, but there was a smile on her lips and her cheeks were flushed bright red in the pleasant way (the way that meant that Kate wasn’t liable to punch Cath in the shoulder hard-enough-to-hurt-kinda). (Cath didn’t mind the pain usually because she was laughing too hard to care when Kate hit her.) “So?”
[break][break]
“I want to like someone,” Cath said, almost waspishly: she snatched the bottle out of Kate’s hands and took a long, hard drink. Her thoughts tumbled over her like waves - except she had never liked water - and she thought and thought and then finally said: “Wouldn’t you?”
[break][break]
“I’ve liked people,” Kate said. “I’ve liked Johanna, and Justin, and now Heather. See? Hic. Not that fun, if you ask - hic - me.”
[break][break]
“But if I don’t love someone,” Cath began, and then she cut herself off. She could have said something more, finished her sentence: If i don’t love someone, then who will i grow old with? I want to love someone - want to have someone who loves me - constantly, endlessly, all the time, no matter what. I want to write love letters to someone - to dream about them all day and still be left wanting to spend more time with them. “...I want to, anyway.”
[break][break]
“I think,” Kate said, and nudged Cath with her shoulder: “You - hic - read too many romance novels.”




donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jun 27, 2019 23:33:18 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]7 / THUNDERSTORMS

[attr="class","winkbody"]
amelie missed thomas like the sea missed the shore.
[break][break]
she was in a shitty motel room in new sedona sprawled out on a red-covered bed that practically stank of low standards and desperation and a need to have somewhere to spend the night, and she was playing the type of music that only heartbroken teenage girls played on her shittier phone full-blast. the people next door didn’t mind because there were no people next door. the sound of the low, thrumming bass was drowned out by the roar of thunder outside. she didn’t care: souped up on bad alcohol and days and months and weeks of sadness and resentment and years-old love, she didn’t care.
[break][break]
it was - childish, she thought, to miss him like this. because she didn’t - it wasn’t her - he didn’t have a right to her missing him, not anymore, not after what he did. but she did, and she wouldn’t stop, and it hurt her like a wound would. it tore her open and left her raw and bleeding, and nothing she did would stop it. it was the type of bonafide hurt that could only be explained in cliche metaphors and overused analogies.
[break][break]
she wanted him to be here. god, but if she didn’t want him to be here - she wanted him, right next to her, talking to her in his voice, the one that he used when it was just the two of them. he could say anything - anything about himself, anything about her, anything at all, but she just wanted to see him. she would do anything to see him, except go see him herself.





donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
last edit on Jul 20, 2019 19:02:16 GMT by Deleted
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]8 / CONCERTS

[attr="class","winkbody"]
hannah was waiting next to the car when carey walked out of the concert. she had her shirt tucked into those god-awful skinny jeans, the type that clung to her legs all-over and had rips in the knees the size of jim’s palms. she was leaning against the passenger door so carey couldn’t get in unless she said something and smoking a cigarette.
[break][break]
“hey,” carey said, hands in her fur jacket’s pockets. her tone was non-confrontational, flat: the type of voice you used on strangers who asked you for directions. “hannah. i didn’t know you’d be picking me up.”
[break][break]
“yeah, well,” hannah said, and shrugged, making a motion with her hands. her nails were painted bright red. “jim asked me to.”
[break][break]
she said it in the voice that said, you’re not special, carey. carey knew this and it still stung. that was one of hannah’s specialities: making you sound like you were the one who had problems, who was self-absorbed, the person who made it all about them.
[break][break]
but at the same time, she had moved away from the door, as if letting carey in as a reward for listening to hannah insult her, and carey reached for the handle. hannah watched her, lifting her cigarette to her lips. “you been busy?”
[break][break]
“so-so,” replied carey. she slid inside, tucking her legs together, and sat. her fingers fumbled for the seatbelt. she suddenly wished she hadn’t worn such bright lipstick to the show, and hannah still hadn’t made a move toward the driver’s seat.
[break][break]
“yeah?” hannah leaned in, just so her face lingered in the open air that the door would have occupied if it were pulled shut, and then seemed to change her mind, withdrawing. she stubbed out her cigarette and crushed it under her foot. “going to concerts like these, i wouldnt've thought so. you gotta get better music taste, c.”
[break][break]
“i like it.”
[break][break]
hannah snorted, an admission in itself. “you would.”
[break][break]
“and i do,” carey said, and smiled, picture-perfect, the way she was taught. she smoothed her hair behind an ear, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear just-so it framed the long pearl earring dangling from her lobe “are you going to drive me home, hannah?”
[break][break]
there was the sound of a sigh - loud as a bullet in the night - and a dramaticized groan. hannah went around the car and stepped into the driver’s seat, pushing back her bangs, and carey pulled the door shut on her side.
[break][break]
“yeah, princess,” hannah said. “i’m gonna.”






donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]
0written posts
Deletedearned bits
offlinecurrently
Deleted
Deleted Avatar
[nospaces]

[attr="class","winkcont"]
[attr="class","winkcont2"]
[attr="class","winkheader"]9 / COOKOUT

[attr="class","winkbody"]
”you’ve got to get that looked at,” rose said.
[break][break]
“rose,” theodore said, with the patience of someone who had said the same thing many times, “we’re at a party. i’ll get it looked at later.”
[break][break]
she looked around her. the floor was littered with trash - balled-up napkins, cups, bits of paper, confetti...the list went on. there was alcohol dripping off the floor in at least three places. and the only pair of shoes on the ground were hers and thomas’ - and richard’s, but richard had stumbled out of the door shoeless. “it’s not much of a party,” she said, and sat down on the couch anyway. “everyone’s gone.”
[break][break]
“everyone?” theodore said, and looked up. “oh.” he said it mildly, with a touch of self-consciousness in an attractive way - if there was an attractive way to say it. rose attributed it to his face, most of the time, which was disarmingly beautiful, arresting to the extreme. she touched his cheek lightly, and found it warmer than usual, flushed with his embarrassment. her fingers trailed down the line of his neck down to the greening splotch on his collarbone.
[break][break]
“theo,” she said, pressing a cool finger against the hot throb of his injury - not pushing down, exactly, but letting her touch hang on the surface of his skin. “the bruise?”
[break][break]
“i’ll take care of it,” he told her without looking at her, and then caught her hand as she was pulling away and kissed her palm, turning his head just-so just lips brushed against it and he looked over at her through his lashes and grinned. “bruises are sexy, rose.”
[break][break]
“yes, when they’re on sexy men,” she tossed back, and said nothing, but the curve of her lips was already tilting up and her eyes were warm with affection. she let him kiss her long fingers, her wrists, the long, sloping lines on her palm, all three of them, and cover her hand all-over with his mouth, stroking his hair with her other hand. his lips brushed against the gold band of her wedding ring. “we’ve got to clean up, theo. the party’s left us with quite a mess.”
[break][break]
“it wasn’t a very good party, remember?” theodore responded, gazing up at her. he pressed a final closed-mouth kiss against her knuckles and let her go, squeezing her hand before he dropped it. “i think it was meant to be a cookout, anyway.”
[break][break]
“i wouldn’t know,” rose said, still running her fingers through his hair. “come on, up, up.”






donau.


[googlefont=Montserrat:400i]
[newclass=.winkcont]width: 486px; border: solid 1px #bababa; padding: 20px; background-color: #ddd;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkcont2]background-color: #eee; padding: 6px; border: solid 1px #4c4c4c;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkheader]width: 401px; background-color: #4c4c4c; padding: 20px 50px 20px 20px; font-family: montserrat; font-style: italic; font-size: 20px; color: #fff6ef; text-align: right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.winkbody]background-color: #f9f9f9; width: 431px; padding: 20px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #777; text-align: justify;[/newclass]