roman ruins @hugorafferty - Tumblr Blog

Forugh Farrokhzad, Deevar (The Wall); from ‘Lost’, tr. Sholeh Wolpé

@holdvns

The two had formed a bit of an unlikely friendship. Unlikely because Holden seemed to do whatever he wanted, whereas Hugo never did anything he wanted. A part of him hoped some of that nature would rub off on him, and he could stop overthinking everything and thinking so much about what his family would think. It was hard when they seemed to bother him anytime he thought of doing anything that might tarnish the Rafferty reputation. He sat back down and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing to the phone which he had just turned off. “It was one of my brothers. He called to gloat about his new promotion. I tuned it out, but I got the message loud and clear.” Looking down at the food only half-eaten at his place, he sighed. “What were we talking about?” He asked more to himself than to Holden. “I think if I had to be in any shitty CW show it would be Arrow. It might be fun to be a vigilante.” His words weren't as enthusiastic as earlier.

#(( threads ))#(( ft. holden donahue 002 ))#(( holdvns ))

@leoalcrights

He knocked on her door, bag slung over one shoulder, shifting his weight around as he waited. With exams fast approaching, he felt constantly antsy, like there was always more he could be doing. Studying until he couldn’t take it, until the words were nothing more than a blur on the page, he got up and went to the store. He got a coffee for himself, needing a caffeine boost to continue on his current trajectory. As he was getting his drink, he saw mini bags of candy, undoubtedly leftover from Halloween. He grabbed a bag and paid for it along with his coffee.

He’d brought some candy over to Leo’s, using it as a little gift to boost her spirits during exam season. It was the perfect kind of break, one where he was still doing something even if it wasn’t necessarily studying. He gave her a sheepish smile when she opened her door. “Surprise,” he said, holding up the bag of candy. “I hope I’m not interrupting you, but I thought you might like this.”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. eleanor albright 004 ))#(( leoalcrights ))

@dcrbyalbright

He couldn’t give any rationale for why he took racquet sports. He’d taken tennis and golf lessons over the summer when his mom dropped him off at the country club over the summers, so she didn’t have to look after him. He figured it would be an easy class and wanted a GPA booster anyhow. With years of tennis long behind him, more often than not, it looked like his first time ever touching a tennis racquet. Unable to have any free time, Hugo used this time to practice his serve to be able to go to class better prepared. Throwing the ball up, watching it arc in the air, he quickly lost sight of it as it was eclipsed in the sunlight. The echo across the tennis court told him all he needed to know – he missed yet again. He repeated the action, all his frustration behind the swing. Finally, he hit the ball, but it was moving too hard and too fast, and it sailed over the fence. Horror crawled all over his face as he stood frozen, watching the ball hit someone. He ran out of the court and over to make sure they were okay. As he got closer and the glare of the sun lessened, he recognized Darby. “Shit, Darby, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t see you walking by, but I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. darby albright 003 ))#(( dcrbyalbright ))

ANNIE.

study, movies. a thoughtful nod tilted the blonde’s chin, debating between pushing for more information or leaving his short answer be. while she, personally, was inclined towards the former, she knew that not everyone was keen on answering question after unending question and digging into their passions and life’s story off the bat. still, the curiosity stayed with her like stubborn cling wrap, present as she looked back at hugo—as he turned the question back at her. a breathy laugh managed to meet her lips, annie looking away for the first time since she posed the inquiry herself. “nothing nearly as interesting, i’d bet. i really do spend most of my time dancing—or doing something dance-adjacent. which,” another laugh followed, this one a tad fuller. a laugh like humility. “—is so typical of a dancer, but it’s true.” a bit of a groan had filled her voice, as though she expected him to become bored of the obvious answer quickly. “i guess, otherwise, i like to… play board games.” she chuckled. "anything fun and competitive, really. meeting new people. music, which sounds dumb, but i mean really getting into it. i like doing this.” annie shrugged, gaze landing back on his. “any specific kind of movie?” she asked, as if no time had passed since he mentioned going to the theater. “or is it more about the experience?”

“Dancing is way more interesting,” he argued. “What’s your favorite style of dance?” He knew hardly anything about it. One time, his mother bought tickets for her and his brother Lucas to go see The Nutcracker around the holidays. The night before, Lucas came down with food poisoning, and too late to cancel, she took Hugo instead. That was the extent of his dance knowledge, but he thought it was beautiful the way the dancers moved so gracefully. He’d been captivated, but he’d never gone to another show because it was his mother’s interest and not his father’s. He listened as she spoke, sitting still as a statue as he enjoyed the peacefulness of the roof. “That all sounds great. Really. We’ll have to bring some board games up here too next time. Or a ping pong table.” He shifted, bring one leg closer to his chest while leaving the other stretched out. It was interesting getting to know her as everything he learned came as a surprise. He leaned his head back as he thought about her question. “Hm. I like popular ones. Cult classics that always seem to be suggested.” They were basic, but he thought they had to be popular for a reason, so he liked to investigate it for himself. “The experience is nice. Nothing beats paying twenty dollars for a small popcorn and ten dollars for water.”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. annie cohen 001 ))#(( anniecohens ))

dearly

Paul Mescal as Sean McKeogh in The Deceived (2020)

#;; dead leaves and dirty soil

ANNIE.

“can you believe i’ve never actually been up here, either?” annie inquired back with a smile that was simmered eagerness met with some nervousness. like she’d just pulled a cloth from over a top hat and hoped hugo wasn’t angry about the rabbit now inside of it. the big reveal. ta-da. she then gave the immediate area a scrutinizing scan, holding both hands out in capital Ls, as if she were a film director framing a scene. “but i could see a desk,” she nodded, “and right… there, i’ll place one of those rich, grand leather chairs that i see in practically every corner of this house. and we can… i don’t know, read novels or discuss philosophy or the universe or stargaze or swap dad jokes or whatever it is you like to do.” she shrugged, leaning back so that she was now propped up by her forearms. it comforted her greatly that hugo had even allowed her to pull him away tonight in the first place, the two seeming to find some sort of steady ground as of late. a great relief considering their initial meeting—a hastings party, much like this one. one drunk annie luelle cohen, accidentally stumbling into his room. the hasty apology, the more solid one a few days later when she’d spotted him on campus.

a pause followed her words, the girl’s brows creasing just noticeably. “what do you like to do?” she then asked, turning to look up at him. a simple question with genuine intent. “i really just threw the hastings stereotype out there. my bad.”

“You made the climb up like a natural,” he complimented, covering any surprise at her words. It was a place he never would have discovered on his own, but he was grateful she had found it. He liked trying new things; he liked finding new things that were his, that had nothing to do with his family. His hands were planted firmly behind him as he just watched, laughing a little as she framed the view with her fingers. “This sounds perfect. We can even add a bookshelf and a mini-fridge. We’ll never have to leave.” It was a fun thought if he didn’t dwell on the specifics, something he did with every idea. He had a need to pick everything apart, analyze it from every angle to decide how it would be perceived by others. He preferred this to parties any day. A small, intimate setting. Comfortable silence with jokes tossed around here and there. While he didn’t know Annie all that well, he enjoyed her company thus far. His brow creased as she posed the question. “That pretty much sums it up. I study. Sometimes, I go to the movies.” He’d built his life on cliches and stereotypes, treating it like some kind of equation. If he did a plus b, it would equal his father’s approval. But he never had a chance to explore other interests just for the sake of it. “What about you? Besides being an interior designer in your free time.”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. annie cohen 001 ))#(( anniecohens ))

DARBY.

“Alcohol? Like wine? Or vodka,” she asked jokingly, She neared closer to him, finger grazing across his forehead, smoothing down an eyebrow. It was deliberate, this touching of him. She liked the effect she had on him, found it complimentary. “A butterfly,” she repeated slowly, lips curling in a smile, pleased by the idea. “Maybe with a heart around it. Or an anchor through it,” she joked, grinning at him, blonde hair sticking to her shoulders from the sweat of her earlier dancing. She was almost relieved when he agreed, grateful to have someone join her in her escape from the bodies pressed together inside like moths huddled around a lamp. Maybe especially glad it was Hugo. She didn’t tend to keep her hookups around for long, and was even more willing to fling them off when they had only been a one night stand. but she liked his earnestness. Heaving out a sigh once outside, her fingers instinctively dug in the pocket of her denim jacket for a cigarette, popping it in between her teeth. Shrugging her shoulders, she removed it again to speak to him. I don’t know. Pretty uneventful, actually,” she answered noncommittally, breaking into another smile after. “What about you? You meet any cute Italian girls? Did they whisk you away on their mopeds,” She questioned, voice warm. “I might actually have been. little jealous if you did.” Then her eyes flew up, realizing what she had said and how it could be taken. “I mean, just because I had no whirlwind Italian romance of my own.

“I guess vodka would disinfect better,” he said as he lifted up his shoulders slightly before he tensed at her touch. He liked to pretend nothing had happened with them, that they never hooked up, and the longer it had been, the easier it was to forget. And then she went and touched him, and it became the only thing he could possibly think about. He shook his head, physically trying to send the thoughts flying from his head. “Why not both? The trashier, the better.” While he was joking, he was still a bit reluctant to say the words, worried she would take them seriously and do it. Hugo took a deep breath, breathing in the cool, fresh air, quickly relaxing as he was no longer worried about all the bodies pressed together. “Darby Albright? Having an uneventful time? I find that hard to believe.” He pushed his hands in his pockets to warm them up, the puff of his breath mingling with her cloud of smoke. He was thankful for the dark to hide his blush. “Oh, yeah, right. Jealous. There’s nothing for you to be jealous of. I mean I didn’t do anything. It was just a relaxing getaway.” His heart was pounding in his chest. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone abroad, so it was a good experience.” He didn’t know what else to do besides make awkward small talk.

#(( threads ))#(( ft. darby albright 002 ))#(( dcrbyalbright ))#// no worries :)

dustyjewlerystand

paul mescal

#;; dead leaves and dirty soil

@maudemacdonagh

A town over, shopping for new ties, he wanted to use this as a day for himself. It was easier to separate himself from school when he wasn’t on campus or surrounded by his classmates. The day was being used to de-stress, something that was nearly impossible for Hugo, yet something he attempted to do anyway. The wind was cool, and he wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, finding he always preferred the heat. He was weaving in and out of the crowds, keeping his head down as he went about his day. He turned the corner, almost knocking someone over. Reaching a hand out to grab her, he said, “sorry. Didn’t see you there.” As he looked up, he startled, realizing who it was. He’d been trying to avoid her, and she was the last person he wanted to see on his self-proclaimed day off. “How are you, Maude?” He asked, opting for small talk as if they were mere acquaintances.

#(( threads ))#(( ft. matilda macdonagh 001 ))#(( maudemacdonagh ))

ANNIE.

“i promise, it’ll be worth it,” annie called over her shoulder, one foot on the ground and the other perched at the bottom of a window frame. not the first place you’d imagine someone to be during a hastings’ house party—kick back?—but perhaps just the situation one who knew the blonde would think her to be in. an interesting mix of some niche indie-electronic music pumped through the society house like a pulse, giving life to the scene that started in the living room and spilled out into the kitchen, hallways, stairway, and even some of the bedrooms. even now, in one such room, you could hear its dulled thud through the walls. soon enough it’d be blocked out even just a little more, if all went according to plan. “the roof hardly slants, so there’s zero chance of falling unless you really try,” annie picked up, stepping up fully and ducking through the open window. in seconds she was gone, cool night wind meeting her face as she settled onto the exterior of the library-turned-house. she waited some seconds to see if hugo would follow, looking back through the window while her knees bent to meet her chest. “much quieter than inside, isn’t it?” @hugorafferty

He’d always hated when they had parties at the house. They were inescapable, cocooning around him, pinning him to the place, and he’d become unable to catch his breath. Parties had always been suffocating to Hugo if only because he found himself overwhelmed with all the freedom they offered, a chance to let himself go, but it was a step he’d never take. Annie had become somewhat of a saving grace to him at parties as he often found himself searching for her on the rare occasion he voluntarily went out. She carried herself in a way that she seemed sure of herself, that she moved on from her mistakes with a smile, which he admired about her off the bat. Standing near the window, he watched her carefully, searching for signs that she would fall, ready to catch her if she did. “That sounds like a challenge,” he teased. If it had been his brothers saying that, he probably would try to fall only to prove them wrong. Immediately relaxing after she made him up, he took a deep breath and hoisted himself up. Surprisingly, he wasn’t worried about the climb, driven by his desperate need for escape. He crawled up next to her as he looked across the campus. “Much quieter,” he agreed. The party felt like a million miles away. “Can you believe I’ve never been up here? You just showed me my new hiding spot. Maybe I’ll try to get my desk up here.”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. annie cohen 001 ))#(( anniecohens ))

kvothes

paul mescal in the new GQ...what a lad

#;; dead leaves and dirty soil

DARBY.

“God someone fucking…. stepped on my hand with a stiletto. Right after I was jostled to the ground by a particularly beefy dude. It’s fucking chaos in here. My nail even got ripped off. Glory and gore and all that,” Darby rambled, examining her bruised and mangled middle finger to Hugo, finally having escaped the group of dancing bodies in the Calloway living room, a Robyn song blasting through the speaker. She would have thought everyone had tired themselves out from the Italy trip, but someone in her home decided it would be good to throw a “welcome back” party. “Gonna have to grow it back. You know what they say, grow the coke nail you wish to see in this world.” She brushed her hair out of her face, taking a puff of a cigarette between her fingers. “Anyways,” she said, taking her short silver skirt for a spin, nearly flashing him, grin on her face. “If you look closely you can totally see my left ass cheek, right? Take a picture for your mental wank bank. What should I get tramp stamped on there?” She questioned jokingly, sober for once at a party. you want to go outside? I can’t breathe in here.” @hugorafferty

Darby was something else. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke never ceased to amaze him, and he was torn between staying far, far away from her and holding onto every word she spoke. Looking at her bloody finger, he winced at the damage and had to look away as his distaste was evident on his face. “Do you want ice? Or a bandage? Tell me you at least poured some alcohol on it to disinfect it.” There was a drink in his hand, but it was completely untouched with Hugo just wanting something to tether him to the party and make him blend in. Sweat had gathered on his forehead, a combination of the crowd and the nervousness of being here. He’d wished he was accustomed to going out by now, but every time it was like jumping into a pool of freezing cold water, a complete shock to his nervous system. “Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever makes you happy.” With wide eyes and red cheeks, he watched her demonstration. “Go for a butterfly. That’s about as cliche as you can get,” he suggested, trying not to look too closely as flashes of the night they spent together echoing through his brain. “Yes, please.” The desperation coated his words as he grabbed her hand in led her outside, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. He leaned against the side of the house once they were out. “You have fun in Italy?”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. darby albright 002 ))#(( dcrbyalbright ))#// absolutely beautiful <3

VALERIE.

The party was fine. Which, you know, was fine. Better than a bad party, she supposed, but not exactly a glowing review either. No one remembered the nights that were just fine, and lately it felt like that’s where she was stuck. Existing in the middle, reliving the same routine week after week with excitement constantly slipping just out of reach. The things that used to thrill her all seemed to fall flat and she needed more and more to pique any sort of interest. She’d just opened her phone, typing out a text that she planned to send to a few different people to guarantee company for the evening when Hugo of all people managed to snag her attention. Perhaps because she’d never seen him at a party, and she had quite a few under her belt to reference, or maybe because his question was so beautifully out of the ordinary that she could barely resist laughing. “Do I think that the punch in this fratty shithole has alcohol in it?” she mused, her face brightening with an appraising smirk as she tucked the phone back into her pocket, the message all but forgotten. “Uh, yeah. I do. Why? You don’t drink?” No judgments there. She should probably take that plunge herself, not that she was anywhere near rock bottom enough to consider it seriously. But she always found herself curious when people chose sobriety. Maybe because it stood out so blatantly. “I’m sure we can find you a sink.” She stepped closer as she sized him up, not unlike a cat might a mouse, though not have as malicious. Not intentionally, anyway. “Or do you need it to be bottled too?”

He felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, but he couldn’t tell if that was his imagination running rampant or because he hardly appeared in these kinds of settings. At least he could find comfort in Valerie’s familiar face, not feeling completely isolated as he recognized people here. He met her eyes as she spoke, a sigh falling from his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he said, a note of hopelessness entering his voice. Even if it was all just in his head, he felt uncomfortable being here, not knowing how to act or what to say. No matter the time or place, he constantly invented expectations, often ones he knew he couldn’t live up to. Because he could never get out of his head, get rid of the feeling that he was always being judged by what he did or what he said, whether by his father or his peers. “Sometimes I do, but not tonight.” While he drank casually in certain social settings, ordering a beer with dinner, he refused to drink at parties because he knew he would only spiral. One drink would lead to two would lead to three and so on. He couldn’t risk losing control like that. “I need it bottled and iced cold. I need it to be sparkling,” he joked. “Kidding, sink water is fine.” Moving his head around, Hugo couldn’t see through the throngs of people. “Do you know where the nearest sink is?”

#(( threads ))#(( ft. valerie kline 002 ))#(( valeriekline ))