remember emmason :’)
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@emilyfergus
remember emmason :’)
( didn’t your parents ever tell you to not to climb too high? ) Quite the opposite actually. Ricky found that question insanely humorous, considering that he spent most of his life growing up high at the tops of them. Although he was unable to reach out to the top, he settled for a relatively high branch. Despite his want to spend all day inside the comfort of his room, he knew it was good to spend sometime outside. ( christopher constantly reminding him that at least one (1) hour outside was healthy ) He figured he had to make the most of it. ( nature sounds and a decent book he borrowed from christopher being his only company up there ) With his backpack hanging by his dangling foot, he slightly swung it side to side to get some means of motion.
( T H U D , T H U D, THUD ) A mixture of surprise and embarrassment filled him as he heard his backpack hit branch after branch after branch; until finally hitting the ground. He considered leaving it there until a sound followed the fallen backpack. Stuffing the book in the back of his jeans carefully, he hurriedly rushed to the root of the issue. “I-i’m sorry.” He stammered out, taking a deep breath before picking up the patched up backpack. “D-did I.. Did it hurt you?” He asked, turning to face the other.
Emily’s eyes went all wide when a bag fell from the sky; her gaze flicked to it, as automatic as the spokes of a wheel, and her hand paused in its note-taking. The weather had been so nice, and Emily loved when the weather was so nice. It was a change of scenery from her spot in the library, and the classroom she and Mason used for their classes, and her suite room. But, she’d neglected to remember how strange the people here were, how strange here was, in and of itself.
Her features composed themselves in this orderly way, all bemused and as kind as she could muster after the surprise. Because, sure, it was a surprise, but she’d bet her luckiest of lucky pens that the bag’s owner was more surprised than she. She turned that expression on Ricky as he dropped down, a little ways away from her studying set-up. “No, I’m perfectly fine --- no need to be sorry ! ” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, turning a quizzical question to the backpack. “But, are you sure your stuff is ? ”
Emily,
I agree. Reprieval is necessary from time to time, but that isn’t an excuse for abandoning people who depend on me. I need to take responsibility for my actions, or lack thereof. However, I appreciate your encouragement. I intend on moving forward now with a fresh mind, and to stop with the quitter’s talk.
Luckily, my week is fairly open. Aside from chess club, I’m free. As for your suggestion to combine coffee and lunch, I’m very much for that idea. How does 12:00 on Wednesday sound for you? Maybe we could even skip the cafeteria and go into town. I haven’t been since the ball.
-Mason
*PS. The uppercase letter were appreciated, but, is it presumptuous to say I prefer your original hand? if so, I apologize
Emily,
I was surprised to find your letter, but it was a welcome surprise. First of all, I want to apologize. I haven’t been present lately, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s my fault that our class has fallen apart within these past weeks, and I am deeply sorry. You, most definitely, deserve more, and so do our students. I would be happy to reconvene our class. I’ve missed it. If you like, we can meet to discuss logistics over coffee or lunch or whatever you’d prefer. Let me know. I’m looking forward to teaching together again.
-Mason
*PS. your handwriting is very nice and mostly legible
masondxvis:
“Right–right! Sorry, I didn’t mean…I hope I didn’t come across as making the assumption that you’re a snob. I just meant, you know, with your taste, it just seemed…” he was verbally tripping over himself, the first time in this particular conversation, which actually wasn’t bad by Mason’s standards. Before handing it back to her, he opened to the last page, and read it fully–a habit. “I don’t mind formulas as much since those are just plugging in the numbers. I’m finding this class is actually harder for me. It’s the writing. It takes me longer than it should, and…I don’t know. It’s hard sometimes. Finding the exact words to use.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning or smiling --- Mason was getting clumsier with his speech, it seemed, but at least it was something. Emily doubted either reaction would have been met favorably, and she wasn’t in the mood to fight in her favorite part of the library. She grabbed her book from him, a flicker of a smile of thanks in place. “ I didn’t think you were implying anything. Ah --- and if you were, I’d get where it was coming from. ” She lifted an eyebrow, sighing and signing something final on her notes, she tore at the page haphazardly and tilted her head towards him, trying to give him her full attention . She was being nice to make up for the weird. It was only expected, after all, from co-workers/maybe friends. ” The plugging in just gets so monotonous. Not difficult, just stifling; I hate it more than writings, because at least writing pulls at your brain a little huh? If you need help with words, I’d be happy to help, honestly. “
masondxvis:
Water for Elephants. Mason traced his thumb along the title of the book. He’d heard of it–it had made plenty of waves amongst Chestland Hill’s soccer mom set. But he’d never picked it up himself. Skimming the back, “Frankly, I’m a little surprised. I’d always thought of you as more of a classics person.” It wasn’t said in a condescending way, but more along the lines of intrigued. He noticed her pulling out a notebook, but didn’t think much of it as she tended to write notes a lot. “Well…you’re still ahead of 99.9% of everyone else, so it’s probably okay if you take a day off. Literature, actually.”
“ It came recommended a while back.” Emily explained with a shrug as she began penning something in an effort of neatness, but she got distracted, trying to write and talk at the same time. “ I do try and keep up with the classics, but when I hear good things about a book, I won’t turn up my nose. I’ll just wait a thousand years until imminent war threatens, obviously, ” Emily gestured out the window with her pen hand, a wry look in place as she glanced up at Mason. “ But you’re the .1% though, so I’ve got to step up my game! Ah, that’s not too bad. No formulas to mess with. ”
masondxvis:
The stack of books was familiar to Mason. Well, not that particular stack of books, but the image of them. Back at home, there was many a book piled on top of another. He hadn’t read all of them yet, but he was going to eventually. So, needless to say, he understood. “Mind if I take a look?” He tentatively sat next to her at the edge of the window seat. “Studying. I was studying. Or planning to. I was planning on studying.”
“ No, of course not.” Emily tried for an easy smile as she shuffled the book Mason’s way, trying to catch a glimpse of the title as she did so --- Water For Elephants. Not the biggest book, but then, who would put the largest at the top of the stack? She pulled a notebook out of her bag instead of the book, reaching for a pen as well. “ Even planning on studying is a lot better than what I’m doing, which is planning on studying tomorrow. What subject? ”
masondxvis:
He hadn’t intended on approaching her. In fact, he had considered leaving her in peace and watching her from a distance, but that bordered on being creepy. However, this was his favorite part of the library, the only one where he was able to focus correctly, and it might seem strange if he was just there and didn’t say hello. After all, they were…coworker? Friends? “Sorry, I…just thought I’d say ‘hi’…what book is that?”
Of course, perhaps glancing at their face would have done her some good; Emily fought to keep a flush from embarrassment off her face. “ Oh! Hi, Mason. ” She hadn’t meant to be curt in the first place, but especially not to someone she knew...and, well, things with Mason were in an odd state. He was acting odd, sometimes, and Emily didn’t want to act odd in return. “ No, don’t be sorry. Ah, I don’t even know, yet; I brought my stack of to-be-read books from home, and now that I finally have time to read them I’m working my way through. Just plucked this one from the top. ” She paused, inclining her head. “ What brings you here? ”
Emily brought her legs up to curl beneath her on her favorite window seat in her favorite section of the library --- ever mindful of her skirt. A bracelet laced hand reached inside the bag in lap until Emily found the book she planned to relax with. She noticed the shoes in front of her when she went to set the it down, and couldn’t help the sighed “ Can I hep you? ” that came out before she even bothered looking at the face the shoes belonged to.
❤
I would kill for you. • I would make love to you. • I would fuck you. • I would protect you. • I would hurt you for a selfish cause. • I wish we had more in common. • I want nothing to do with you. • I want to see you cry. • I want a future with you. • I want to destroy your future. • I do not care what you do. • I am indifferent towards you. • I want children with you. • I love you ( platonically ) • I love you ( romantically ) • I love you life family. • You are my family. • I could fall in love with you. • I would lie for you. • I would fight by your side. • I will never let you go. • I would hold you while you cried. • I would hug you. • I want to kiss you. • I would stay by your bedside if you were ill. • I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. • I want to forget you. • I will never forget you. • I only want to make you proud. • I wish I could make you happy. • You deserve nothing. • I will never forgive you. • You confuse me.
minacixusarchived:
send me ❤ and I will bold all that applies to your muse
I would kill for you. • I would make love to you. • I would fuck you. • I would protect you. • I would hurt you for a selfish cause. • I wish we had more in common. • I want nothing to do with you. • I want to see you cry. • I want a future with you. • I want to destroy your future. • I do not care what you do. • I am indifferent towards you. • I want children with you. • I love you ( platonically ) • I love you ( romantically ) • I love you life family. • You are my family. • I could fall in love with you. • I would lie for you. • I would fight by your side. • I will never let you go. • I would hold you while you cried. • I would hug you. • I want to kiss you. • I would stay by your bedside if you were ill. • I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. • I want to forget you. • I will never forget you. • I only want to make you proud. • I wish I could make you happy. • You deserve nothing. • I will never forgive you. • You confuse me.
inspired by here.
kylebroflovskis:
Mary Jane and Peter
emily + brian
emily + mason
bonus:
thehandybeavercan:
send me (╹◡╹)凸 and i’ll make a moodboard for our muses relationship.
masondxvis:
Her presence was even more striking than the other worldly descriptions that had been provided to him. There was an aura that immediately surrounded her, the rest of the room dimmed, the music faded. All that was there was her. Movements like a hurricane and rose, she was everything in one being. A muse for all artists.
His eyes remained transfixed, studying her. That stunning red hair, unlike the sea of brunettes and blondes that populated the world. Her lips, pink like the petals of a peony. Those mystical eyes that seemed as if they were searching for something more. He tracked them, following a journey that suddenly halted. And halted upon him.
Her intense stare bore into his soul, igniting unlit passions that had forever been dormant. He was alive. A dopey grin unconsciously grew as he tried to remain worthy of her gaze. The gaze desired by anyone with the capability of feeling. In fact, she could probably extract lust from the most uncaring of people. Her power was that strong.
Of course, the face in the crowd beamed at her. Perhaps he would be a little like the duke she’d face later on --- appeased by the glittering refractions cast over her by her costume, her headpiece, the others around her, the decor. Appeased by her glittering smile, while all she did was bide her time...there was a sharp turn in the routine as the music went into the overdrive they were all drilled to dance to. Emily slid down onto her feet, and turned herself into a whirlwind.
There was a certain elegance to her in these moments, in that there wasn’t any elegance at all. The moves were obvious --- a leg out here, your chest out here, arch your back, arch your neck, smile. She knew there was little point of art to it all, little point to it period. But it was easy to surround herself in the noise. In the flashes of her wrists, the sound of her own voice. She’d have never pegged herself for a singer when she found herself working at here; she wanted to act, to star in roles with heft, with meaning, with importance. And here she was! The star of a spectacle, her voice just another item in a list of things that made her what these people wanted.
It all continued in the same way. There was nothing special about tonight, save for the duke somewhere watching her. Emily always gave it her all, because something told her there’d be a price to pay if she didn’t. After all ... she wasn’t a fool, she knew the snatches of missing memory and waking up in a sickbed mean something. It wasn’t something to dwell on. It was something to pull from. She took her last pose, gave her last sultry grin, and allowed the sounds of a pleased crowd wash over her.
masondxvis:
@emilyfergus
Cobblestone streets led the young romantic down the paths of Notre Village. There was nothing like it back in the still building and rural Chestland Hills. Here, they had history. There was a story. That was why he left his family to pursue his far-fetched dreams of being a writer in Notre Village, the hub of Disnean culture. As if it were fate, he stumbled upon a group of misfits – artists just like him. And it was they who encouraged his skills, bringing him to the center of all things creative and visionary: Moulin Disney.
Entering the club, one might think they had consumed an opiate or another drug of the sort. However, there was nothing in Mason’s system but adrenaline and wonder. Colors were everywhere, flashing against the fabric covered walls. The music blasting so that the most effective language one could use were words of the body. He felt the need to shield his eyes from the debauchery, but a natural curiosity forced them open.
All of a sudden, a rush of gentlemen cleared the floor as if leaving room for someone. Noticing the confused look on his face, one of his companions informed the writer that the jewel of la Moulin Disney was about to perform. She was called: The Huntress. The small group was pushed into a velvet box with one of the clearest views of the stage, Mason’s attention turned to the center, anticipation bubbling in his chest.
It wasn’t such a bad life, Emily mused seconds before going on. Her nightly pep-talk, where she prepared herself to let her mind fall a little bit blank, so she could go out there and give the audience her all without wanting anything more. Performing in Notre Village, the star of la Moulin Disney and the one all the other girls assumed Facilier might give a fighting chance. There were worse lives.
Emily tossed her hair back from her as best she could without dislodging her headpiece, and prepared a smile so dazzling it could upstage all the tiny jewels encasing her and all the other dancers around her. They other girls were right, a little bit. It took years of reeling in her instincts and going for whatever goals Facilier told her to set her sights on, but he’d whispered to her, not minutes ago, that a wealthy duke was going to be watching tonight. He might invest, if she was every bit the charming girl she could be, if she could get him to invest in her. All of this might pay off.
She could hear her music starting up. Such frothy, kicky, upbeat melodies, made for wowing and wooing and all things artificial. (Everyone was calling Notre Village the ideology of all the planet, but sometimes Emily wondered if that’s all it boiled down to; false dreaminess, the fast-paced life of young people who find the world much grander than it finds them.) No matter. It was time for her to be lifted up on the shoulders of performers she hardly knew, ankles crossed, feet pointed, ready to toss smiles everywhere where ‘round the room before the real show began. Her eyes were searching each velvet box, the patrons within them like gemstones in all their finery. They caught on one young man in particular, with a shining face for her to hold in mind --- so she could remind herself the duke she was meant to entice would likely be his exact opposite.