𝚠a𝚕𝚕𝚏l𝚘w𝚎r𝚜 & 𝚠a𝚝e𝚛𝚌o𝚕o𝚛s

[of-apples]

@plcttwist​

Maisie had been staring at her closet for what felt like hours. In reality she’d stood there for forty seven minutes, occasionally snapping out of the daze she was in to rifle through her clothes. The search seemed to be futile. She wasn’t entirely sure what black tie even meant and she certainly didn’t own clothes that would fit the dress code. The few dresses she did own were cotton, and casual even for summertime. But Maisie desperately didn’t want to go buy a dress. Shopping for anything other than art supplies and books made her anxious, or at least more anxious than usual. Things never fit right and they cost too much money and all the external stimulation quickly became too much for her.

For the past few days she had been toying with the idea of skipping the Braxton’s holiday party. She didn’t belong with the elite members of society. She never had and she never would, and Maisie was just fine with that. She was proud of her upbringing, but she rarely had the courage to defend her mother and grandmother to old, rich. white men. It made her nervous, thinking about the fact that she had only been invited to such a fancy event because she was stuck in Hemlock during winter break. But she had to go. Maisie knew that if the roles were reversed, Maverick would come to her family’s party. And given what she knew about the Braxtons, he would need all the support he could get.

By minute forty nine, Maisie had realized that her closet search was useless, and she had come to the conclusion that in order to get something appropriate to wear without spending four hundred dollars, she would need to borrow something. But that presented it’s own problems. There weren’t a lot of college students who owned clothes like that. Maisie plopped down onto her floor, staring at the ceiling as she tried to think of who she could possible ask. And then it dawned on her that she did know someone stylish enough to have such formal outfits: Donatella. Maisie pulled out her phone, and after some deep breathing, began to text Donnie.

[2:11p.m.] maisie: hey! i’ll be over with cookies in a few minutes.

[2:12p.m.] maisie: but i do have a big favor to ask of you.

[2:12p.m.] maisie: if you can’t do it i totally understand.

[2:13p.m.] maisie: i don’t have anything that even resembles a black tie outfit. and i don’t want to forego the whole party.

[2:14p.m.] maisie: i know you have great clothes so i thought if anyone might have an outfit that works for the party it would be you. if there’s anything you can spare i would really appreciate it!

[2:14p.m.] maisie: but if you can’t that’s fine! i think the mall is open today.

Maisie sighed, letting her head fall back to the floor as she hoped that she hadn’t overstepped. Her phone was clutched tightly in one hand, just waiting for a vibration that could ease her anxiety... or increase it exponentially.

[afterlust]

still trying to find my yellow paint

[bitchycode]

list of things im handling well currently

1.

[deanaax]

[unsccnangcl]

location: outside the on-campus apartments

date: one oh-seven, december twentieth

with: open

everything felt real, now. worse. those obituaries posted all over the campus had been the rudest possible awakening, and that bad feeling ella had had from the very beginning was only confirmed. perhaps it wasn’t official, but that thought filled her up to her throat. melanie was dead, melanie was dead, melanie was-. it was a paralyzing thought, and ella had barely been able to leave her bed since she left her apartment to get breakfast from the dining hall. now, she felt spurred into action. doing nothing only made her feel worthless, useless; she’d feel better if she did something. the question was: what? 

she wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, trying to think of what she could do. maybe she could… talk to people, but that was a terrifying concept in and of itself. it was never something ella had been particularly good at. she zipped her coat up as she left the building, cold air nipping at her collarbone. almost as soon as she looked up, she caught sight of another person, one of the other twenty-three. she shot them an uneasy, forced smile, and thought, well, here goes nothing. “hey,” she said as soon as she was close enough to be heard, cheeks quickly going pink and ignoring the signs that surrounded them. “hey, um… are you… are you doing okay?” 

[of-apples]

Maisie was always cold. You would think that someone who grew up outside of Chicago would adjust to bitter midwestern winters, but she seemed to have inherited the sensation of ice deep within her bones from her mother, who never adjusted to the weather when she moved from New Zealand to Illinois as a young girl. She slept with socks on nine months out of the year, curled up beneath three wool blankets with a microwaveable teddy bear who smelled like lavender and on days like this, with air so cold it stung her face, it took all her willpower to walk out the door. Maisie was beginning to regret her choice to brave the cold in order to get some food until the figure up ahead of her drew nearer and she could see that it was Ella. 

Her expression softened, happy to see a friendly face. “Hey,” she replied. “I’m, uh-” Maisie paused for a moment to think. In truth, Maisie was not ok. She was scared for Melanie, sad for herself, and desperate to go home. But she didn’t know how to say any of that. “I don’t know. A little stressed, I guess. It’s been a weird couple of weeks, you know?” she shrugged, trying not to think about how much of an understatement that was. “Are you? Doing okay?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say for a moment, but soon a small smile began to form. “Do you want to grab some food with me?”

[of-apples]

flightsrsk‌:

                        IT’S STRANGE. TRYING TO ACT completely normal, in a setting that feels, quite literally, like hell on earth. maverick has to actively push aside the looming investigation, the judgments, the side-eye glances, to put pen to paper and actually create something, instead of letting his mind unravel, inch by inch, thought by thought. but for a moment, it feels nice: even if it’s stupid stick figures, he allows his mind to have a moment of respite, to have a conversation that isn’t tainted by judgment or words that beat-around-the-bush. it’s the least ANYONE could have.

he chuckles at her antics, appreciative of even a single light-hearted moment. the smile that tugged on his lips lifted his shoulders, too—if maverick braxton wasn’t already a fully-fledged and completely proud PESSIMIST, he’d consider the wonders that a smile could have on one’s body, one’s state. perhaps it’s sarcastic humor that keeps him sane. “ dork ? … why, thank you. that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in the past week. ” it’s a stretch, but to be frank, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. compliments aren’t exactly thrown maverick’s way, not with his contentious attitude in class, nor his arrogance. it’s a miracle he’s even found outlets through which he can share his softer sides: he is CERTAINLY glad to have befriended maisie, it not only to draw with her, but also to chat with her about griffin sometimes.

art class had taught him a few things, but something about just drawing casually without fear of judgment for his work allowed him to be … slightly more FREE. he would be hesitant to explain his work in class, not really wanting to divulge into his personal life with professors, but maisie was different: she was a friend. “ cross-hatching, ” he repeats with a nod—it’s incredible how much more motivated a student maverick becomes when he’s actually INTERESTED in the content. he watches carefully, lightly mimicking her small drawing strokes. “ and what about these things ? do you just … draw from memory ? or do you like … use references or something ? ”

You would never be able to guess that a girl was missing dead. Looking around at the people of Hemlock, you would see nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps the palpable excitement in the air that grew as Christmas approached. The din at Bean Me Up was loud as ever, a far cry from the low hum of mourning that had fallen over Covington. It wasn’t that Maisie didn’t feel festive-she did, in a way (the drink in front of her was a peppermint mocha soy latte, extra syrup because nothing could be too sweet. Her sweater was red. Festive). But it felt forced, an echo of how the holidays used to be, even more quiet now that she was stuck at school. 

Art had always been an escape for her, and now was no different. She was having trouble sleeping, too many thoughts clouding her mind and keeping her awake until the the dark of night began to fade into a new day. Instead of staring at the ceiling for hours, she lay curled up with a notebook, writing down whatever words came into her head and drawing the monsters she saw when she closed her eyes. But drawing with someone felt healthier, happier. Maisie smiled up at Maverick. “You’re welcome! I’m actually just here to boost your ego. Because, you know, it’s so small and fragile?” She laughed, silent except for the soft sound of exhalation. 

“Well, some things I do from memory, I guess it kind of depends on what I’m drawing, like...” she trailed off, a smile growing on her face. Maisie set down the sketchbook in front of her and grabbed a second one from inside her bag. She began to flip through it’s pages, looking intently. “Okay, see, this one I did in person,” she explained, showing him a drawing she had done of Griffin a few weeks before. “Well, most of it I did in person, but I had to finish it later because it was taking me forever to draw individual strands of hair,” Maisie added before sifting through the pages again, eventually abandoning her search in favor of the first sketchbook. “And this one is from memory,” she said, holding up a second drawing, less detailed and more stylized than the first. “Actually, that’s a lie. I cheated and looked at her instagram. It’s mostly from memory.” It felt good to show him. The drawings weren’t secret by any means, the first was even a homework assignment about portraiture. But when her teacher had asked her about the subject, Maisie had describe it as her ‘friend’ Griffin. With Maverick, she didn’t have to lie. He knew how and why those eyes had been committed to her memory. 

[of-apples]

paintingpeyton‌:

   it was strange, slightly, feeling so seen in such an unexpected way. sure, nearly every artistic young adult woman these days had an interest in astrology, but peyton couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit touched that maisie had thought of her and made that connection. most of pey’s friends seemed like they were only there due to cordy’s extension, but maise had always managed to make the blonde feel… included. noticed. special. “you know me so well,” peyton replied with a smile that came easier than expected. maisie’s appearance at parties lately hadn’t one unnoticed. pey wasn’t sure what maise remembered of her back when she and cordy were close, but there had been a lot of rebellion issues on peyton’s end. it had been strange, seeing maise from across the room in such a different setting than anything before. it felt weird now, stuck on campus with all these disjointed people with odd connections. “like the whole full moon right now is bringing such a weird energy, it feels like a cop out just to blame capricorn, you know?” 

Maisie nodded, there was a weird energy about them. She thought looking to the stars might help her find peace of mind, but she was reading too deeply into everything, clinging to the most obscure meanings of things if there was a chance it could shed some light on what was happening around her. “Is it a cop out? Probably,” she laughed. “But who better to be my astrological scapegoats then the, you know, goats?”  Maisie’s smile faltered for a moment and her eyes drifted towards the ground. Scapegoat was a scary word to use while everything around them was so uncertain. “I guess your moms are probably pretty happy, huh? Now that you and Cord can go home.” It was making her miss home more than usual, knowing that if her grandmother were only in Hemlock, she would be able to see her. It had broken Maisie’s heart to explain that yes, she could leave campus, but no, she couldn’t come home. The holidays hadn’t been the same without her mother, but at least she and her grandma had each other. Until now. Her smile returned, albeit smaller than before. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I guess... I guess I’m a little jealous.”

[gracieevanss]

date: december 20th, mid-day.  location: somewhere on campus, popular. a quad? a student union?  availability: open!!!

Of course, just when Victoria thought her week couldn’t get any worse, the obituary popped up in the newspaper. Victoria had imagined the day an obituary might pop up–statistically, it was to be expected given the timeline. She’d imagined it would be a day of relief: a sign of all of this being over. Instead, she felt more and more like she was in the middle of a twisted game that she had no way of winning. 

And, if anything was certain, Victoria Fairbank didn’t lose. 

But, she lost something when she spotted that same, stupid picture of Melanie on the obituary taped up on a board across the quad. Beneath it, the words she’d read probably a hundred times today, and someone standing by it, reading or staring or whatever–Victoria didn’t care. 

Ignoring the existence of the person standing and looking at the paper, Victoria stormed up and tore it down from the post, stomping it to the ground with her boot, happy to watch the paper find its new home in the dirt. 

“It’s bullshit. This is all bullshit, you know?” She hadn’t glanced at the person standing at the board until now. Victoria looked at them blankly for a moment before huffing and backing away, resisting the urge to let out a frustrated scream. “I’m supposed to be in fucking New York City, talking to the dean at Columbia. Fucking Columbia! not dealing with this…. shit!” 

[of-apples]

Maisie didn’t want to believe that Melanie was dead. She wanted to walk out of Griffin’s room to see her sitting on the sofa or to catch a glimpse of her walking past on the quad. Now the only thing Maisie was seeing of her was this picture, her haunting eyes looking out from flyers all over campus. She couldn’t shake the feeling you get when someone’s watching you. You don’t have to see them, you just know. It was like she could feel Melanie’s eyes boring a hole into her soul. 

She was sure she had everything on the flyer memorized by now, but Maisie still couldn’t help staring at it. She was so focused on it that she didn’t hear Victoria coming until she was right behind her, turning just in time to see her rip the poster down. “I-” Maisie started, her words seemingly stuck underneath the paper that was now crumpled on the ground.

She didn’t quite know how to respond to Victoria. She wanted to be home with her grandmother, but that didn’t seem as important as New York. “I’m sorry, that sounds... I’m sorry.” To say Maisie was intimidated would be an understatement. She wanted to ask if Victoria could reschedule, but that felt too forward. “Do you want to go there for grad school?” she asked, simply because she had to say something.

[of-apples]

ofconstellctions‌:

there were very few people in this world that cordelia felt as though she was completely & totally comfortable around… which was STRANGE, at best, given all of the unsteady & uncertain steps that led them toward the place where they now stood. there were very few people in the world who cordy could really bring herself to HATE & for the most part it left a sour taste in her mouth to think about loving someone & sharing her life with them & then turning around to think or speak poorly about them. that was the thing, she CERTAINLY loved maisie, once, in a way that was deep & wild. sure, it was different now, but not any less, that was important. 

where she might have TENSED when anyone else approached her, the sight of maisie’s gentle smile curling over soft features was a welcome vision — one that made a mirror smile tug at the corners of her lips as she leaned her head back against the chair where she was tucked away from the rest of the world. “never if you’re asking,” cordy replied, lowering her book to rest in her lap, a soft sort of TENDERNESS taking control over all of her features in a way that seemed only came out in full force around maisie for the sole reason that maisie saw her in a way that very few other people did & somehow hadn’t been scared off by it yet. “just another cliche, i’m afraid,” cordy admitted, almost sheepish as she lifted the book to display the cover of a christmas carol to the girl. “this whole thing has kind of taken its toll on my holiday spirit and… well, desperate times call for desperate measures, i suppose.”

Though she had no reason to think Cordy would say no, Maisie still breathed a small sigh of relief and relaxed into the chair. “Thanks,” she mumbled, unable to hide the smile that was tugging at her cheeks. “I want to go home, so I came here instead.” She had spent so much of her life with her nose in a book, so many characters’ lives felt as if they had been lived by her, that a church of books always felt like the right place to be. And out of everyone Maisie knew, she thought Cordy would probably understand that best. The fact that she was there, too, was a treat.

“Some things are cliche for a reason,” she suggested. She was a firm believer in the sappy and saccharine, a believer in nostalgia, in love, in matching the season to her music/movies/books/coffee. She had never read A Christmas Carol, but if Cordy was reading it, Maisie knew it had to be good, whether or not that was for sentimental reasons. She had always trusted Cordy, and her taste in books was no exception. “I know it’s the one with Scrooge Mc-” she stopped herself before she could say it, but she couldn’t help blushing at the thought that she knew DuckTales better than a Dickens book. “Before you say anything, in my defense, I haven’t read the book, but I have seen the muppet version. And I do know that Tiny Tim isn’t actually a frog, unfortunately.”

[of-apples]

voidgriff‌:

the  whole  relationship  concept  was  new  for  griffin.  sure,  she’d  had  a  few  short  running  flings  and  fake  boyfriends  in  the  past,  but maisie  was  her  first  serious  girlfriend.  as  much  as  she  loved  maisie  and  everything  about  what  they  had,  it  was  still  a  lot  for  griffin  to  get  used  to.  because  she  really  never  saw  herself  sincerely  coexisting  with  someone  in  that  sense  until  maisie  came  along,  she  had  no  idea  what  to  expect  or  how  to  act.  griffin  was  thankful  that  maisie  was  patient  and  she  loved  her  for  it.  god,  she  was  so  fucking  thankful  for  moments  like  this.  when  the  entire  world  seemed  to  come  crashing  down,  griffin  could  always  depend  on  maisie  for  moments  like  this,  and  the  theater  seemed  to  be  their  shelter.

there  were  few  friends  that  knew  –  two  really,  the  third  was  mia,  and  then  michal  –  and  griffin  adored  them  for  their  support,  but  the  thought  of  more  than  the  few  knowing  made  her  jump.  the  secrecy  was  a  comfort  that  she  just  wasn’t  ready  to  let  go  of  just  yet.  griffin’s  life  was  finally  on  the  right  track  and  she  had  to  breathe  it  in  before  piling  anything  else  on,  so  much  so  that  the  thought  that  michal  knew  her  secret  still  shook  her.  michal  knowing  was  never  part  of  the  plan  and  it  was  just  another  mess  she  had  to  clean  up.

“sharing  spit  with  you?  gross,”  griffin  teased,  unable  to  wipe  the  smile  off  her  face  to  try  to  make  the  statement  seem  more  serious. “do  i  get  to  feed  you  grapes  like  a  princess?  or  how  about  hot  cheetos?  huh?  how  romantic.”

“Disgusting,” Maisie echoed, the smile on her face growing wider. “You can feed me hot cheetos any day,” she added. She wasn’t sure if being fed grapes was really a princess thing, but she would gladly rule in any land where she and Griffin could be together, with or without grapes. And honestly, she thought getting bright orange cheese dust on your fingers in the name of the person you loved was pretty romantic. Maisie lay down on the stage, hair splayed out behind her. The semester was over, but somehow she was more tired than ever and few things seemed as tempting as taking a nap with Griffin did. 

Maisie used to worry that she came on too strong. That she had fallen too fast and it was going to freak Griffin out. But that hadn’t happened. Maybe keeping things a secret had helped in that regard. She wasn’t allowed to shout about it from the rooftops, so she whispered it into the pages of her journal and across doodles of Griffin’s smile in her sketchbook. She wasn’t allowed to give her elaborate gifts, so she gave her the flowers she painted in class. As much as Maisie hated it, keeping the secret had kept her in check. But it couldn’t diminish her feelings, and she wouldn’t want it to.

“I’m gonna miss you, Beck,” she whispered. It was unclear to her whether she was talking about later that night when they had to say goodbye, or when they were finally allowed to go home, or even in May when Griffin would graduate. It was unclear when, she just knew she would. But something about it felt too sentimental for even her. “Cheeto?” she asked, sticking out her tongue in an attempt at levity.

[cinematapestry]

‘Chateau’ by Angus & Julia Stone (2017) dir. Jessie Hill

[jungleindierock]

[of-apples]

this is 100% peak maisie energy you don’t even know (minus 1 dacre montgomery and plus 1 jennie)

@voidgriff imagine how cute

[flightsrsk]

𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕣 ft. @of-apples​ !

                       MAVERICK ISN’T TYPICALLY THE CARETAKER. he likes to dip out on parties before someone inevitably makes acquaintance with the toilet bowl, never really had to take care of austin, his younger sibling ( she usually did her own thing anyway ), wasn’t the kind to keep band-aids in his bag. in fact, if one looked closely, they could see a recurring pattern of the middle braxton slipping out of the area if ever conflict arises. he’s not one to watch arguments be disputed, not a very good back-up in the case of a fistfight. he flees, he leaves, but this time, he can see there’s a need that he can actually tend to.

“ sit, ” he orders of maisie, in a tone that is stern, but at the same time, PLAYFUL. he eyes the chair in front of him. he occupies one of the tables by the window of one of the common rooms, a precious sketchbook filled with half-assed drawings in front of him, one that few people know exists. “ i’ve got something to show you. ” he raises his book, flipping to his most recent creation: a crude, stick-figure drawing of a figure holding up a pen. “ it’s the fantasy land in which left-handed folk are not punished for the shortcomings of ink-engineering, ” he explains with a proud smile, hoping to one of her own to appear. “ alright, i’m kidding. can you show me how you do that shading thing now? the cross-hatchy thing you mentioned? ”

[of-apples]

Maisie wasn’t great at making friends. She wasn’t always sure how to talk about herself, how to explain what she was really thinking in a way that wasn’t surface level. Sometimes she could put it into words, but that usually came out as poetry or rants that wouldn’t make sense outside the confines of a journal. The best way for her to express herself was by drawing, but that was a language that not many people spoke. It was some sort of small miracle that she and Maverick Braxton had found each other in the context of art, outside of which she wasn’t sure they would’ve considered each other as a friend. But they had, and he understood that language. He even spoke it. Maverick was becoming one of her favorite people fairly quickly. 

Maisie grinned at his command, chewing on her nails as she did as she was told and sat down. Yes sir.” Her smile disappeared as he continued, replaced by a serious expression and raised eyebrows. She scrunched up her shoulders up to meet the sides of her face, an old habit that appeared when the already shy girl felt genuinely bashful. “For me?” she asked in a silly voice. Maisie looked at the drawing, then at Maverick, and back at the drawing. And then she burst out laughing. “I love it,” she said, finally taking a breath. “Magnificent. Genius. A work of art. Literally.” She shook her head like it was one of the funniest things in the world and she just couldn’t believe it. “You’re such a dork,” she added, unable to keep a straight face at the idea that she, Maisie, quiet and awkward, had the right to call him, cooler than Tom Cruise’s Maverick could ever hope to be in her eyes, anything less than that. But she did have the right, because he was her friend, and he was a dork. 

“Gladly.” She thought it was amazing that he wanted to learn drawing techniques, and she was honored he had asked her to help him. “It’s, uh, just called ‘cross-hatching’” Maisie explained, a gentle smile on her face. She pulled out her own sketchbook, flipping through pages of intricately drawn faces and plants until she landed on a simple sketch of Yoshi. “I think he could use some shading, I can show you on this,” Maisie added, holding up her drawing of the dinosaur. (She was a dork, too).

[of-apples]

@paintingpeyton​

As an only child, most of the things Maisie knew about siblings were from television. Her impression of younger siblings were that they were whiny and annoying and just generally a pain in the ass. Maisie didn’t know exactly how Cordelia felt about Peyton, and she definitely didn’t understand the dynamic between sisters, but in the time she was dating Cordy, Maisie found that she really liked Peyton. She was smart and fun to be around, and if that was what having a little sister was always like, Maisie would want one. She was glad when Peyton came to Covington, if not a little surprised, and it was always nice to see her around. Now, with only twenty two students on campus, Maisie was grateful to run into a friendly face. “Hey!” she waved, approaching Peyton. “What’s up?” It was a silly question given everything that was happening around them, but she didn’t know what else to ask. “Uh, I was gonna go obsess over Saturn being in Capricorn, do you want to come?”

[of-apples]

@ofreligion​

Maisie wasn’t a huge fan of going to Griffin’s apartment. She didn’t have a problem with Melanie or Michal, but they both knew something deeply personal about Griffin that she didn’t want them to know. It made Maisie uncomfortable to just think about it. She wasn’t sure why Melanie, who by most accounts was a nice person, would out Griffin. And that made it hard for Maisie to like Melanie. She was fiercely loyal to the people she loved, and she loved Griffin. Maisie never wanted that, to feel anything less than positive about a person. But while Maisie couldn’t say she had it in her to dislike Melanie, she couldn’t say she liked her, either. 

And then there was Michal. Maisie didn’t think Michal had done anything wrong, but she still knew. It made things between them awkward at best, and Maisie avoided her just like she avoided confrontation.

Maisie sat outside Griffin’s door, a plate of lemon bars on her lap and headphones over her ears. It was a silly idea, to surprise Griffin. Maisie hadn’t known if she was home, and was now going to have to wait an hour before she came back. But Maisie had nothing better to do, so there she sat, her head bobbing up and down with the music. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, and she looked up with a smile on her face, expecting to see her girlfriend, But instead she was Michal walking towards her door. Maisie turned off her music and looked at Michal, a proper smile on her face this time. “I’m sorry, I’m just waiting for Griffin.” She held up the plate of lemon bars, shrugging slightly. “Would you like one?”

[of-apples]

@heartofgolds

Maisie was never good at making friends. She was too quiet, too timid. She was the kid on the playground looking dejected as she sat on one side of the seesaw, the other end empty and pointing towards the sky. It could be lonely, but she never thought it was bad. She didn’t need anyone else to be able to play. Still, the few friends she did make were particularly special to her. She felt comfortable enough around them to talk, but they never judged her when she was silent. Maisie held onto these relationships tightly, tight enough that she was scared to let go. The thought of a friendship ending terrified her, and she would never do anything that could potentially hurt one. That was why Maisie never allowed herself to fall for Rosemary. She was too kind, too fun, too smart, too pretty. Her friendship was too important. There was a time last year when it felt like more than a friendship. Like the start of something, the spark that ignites the flame. But Maisie held back. She couldn’t lose what they had, and that felt okay. Having Rosemary as just a friend was still special.

Maisie turned to Rosemary, a very serious look on her face. “I have an important question to ask you,” she said, pausing for effect. “Do you want brownies or blondies? Or maybe brookies? A seven layer bar? I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I need your help, I’m indecisive as fuck,” Maisie added, the last word in her sentence no more than a whisper.

[of-apples]

@ofconstellctions​

When Maisie falls in love, she falls hard and fast. She gives everything she has. She gives too much, she gives away anything that might cushion her when she hits the ground, and she gives away all her band-aids. As a freshman in college she was vulnerable enough, confused and excited about everything Covington had to offer. It would have been easy to take advantage of that. But Maisie had been lucky. Out of all the people she could have fallen for, she fell for Cordy. And Cordelia helped soften the blow. Cordelia, who could quote poetry and had the kind of hair you wanted to run your fingers through. Cordelia, who helped Maisie feel at home at Covington and showed her the ropes. Cordelia, who wasn’t quite right for Maisie, nor Maisie for her, but still treated her with kindness and respect. Maisie wasn’t usually friends with her exes. Usually her exes weren’t the kind of person you wanted to be friends with. But Cordy was different, and by some miracle, Maisie still felt comfortable around her.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to be in the library at the same time. Maybe it was a little strange, given the fact that they were supposed to be on winter break. But Maisie had always found solace there, and it had always seemed to her that Cordelia did, too. So upon seeing Cordy sitting in an armchair with a book in her lap, Maisie walked over and took a seat opposite her. “Is this seat taken?” she asked, the hint of a smile in her eyes. “Please tell me what you’re reading. A girl can only read Walden so many times.”