The Bright Sessions
noise dept.
Keni
Mike Driver
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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if i look back, i am lost
art blog(derogatory)
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
Origami Around
Product Placement
One Nice Bug Per Day
Fieri Frames
Love Begins
ojovivo
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
seen from Poland
seen from United States
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seen from Tunisia
seen from Bangladesh
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@stvnuris-blog
The best first date would be…?
“i guess, like, maybe dinner and taking a walk? this campus is amazing and i love exploring it on my own, but doing that with somebody who makes everything ten times more interesting and exciting would be so much fun. then again, doing anything where i’d get to listen to them talk for a while would be a good first date for me. the best first date might include some hand-holding, too. i think i would like that.”
What if Harry does like you back?
“you didn’t have to call me out like this, but that would be a crazy plot twist even i didn’t see coming. also, really nice. i’m pretty sure hell is more likely to freeze over first, but it’s fun to think about.” ( @roscgvld )
🍃 CONFUSED
stanley does not do confusion well. it gives him major anxiety to feel like he doesn’t understand something, particularly if it threatens his sense of normalcy. this applies to almost anything: abstract concepts, emotions and feelings, even something as simple as a mathematical problem he can’t solve. he’ll work on it until he figures it out or until it drives him insane. it’s even more difficult when it applies to other people, because then he has to navigate the social aspect of it, as well.
HONESTY HOUR.
as always , meme day can get wild , so i’m leaving my inbox open to whatever shenanigans you see fit . good luck , me .
klaus: i have no feelings.
stan: hi, klaus!
klaus: i have (1) feeling
roscgvld:
klaus is hardly listening, which could be perceived as rude, but it’s simply due to the fact that he’s staring. at the art, at stanley himself, at his own book—he’s taking in his surroundings to memorize the moment. his photographic memory comes in handy in times like this, where he wants to simply live in a moment. later on, when his feelings got the best of him, he’d slip back into this pocket of time and smile. finally opting to put the book down, he places a loose piece of paper to mark his place, and sets it onto the table. it’s useless—books never get read very much with stanley around, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. resting his hand beneath his chin, he leans forward to properly give the other his full attention. “how you feel about something changes the way you remember it entirely. i have some wonderful memories that i’m sure aren’t very pleasant for others, and vice versa. feelings are very powerful.” the unfortunately, he adds mentally. his own feelings are the makers of his demise, as well as something he keeps tucked far away and out of sight. if he can pretend he doesn’t have them, he can avoid getting hurt—or so is the dream. “a personal challenge, then, for fun. to see how many books i can read in the next three years. you can help me keep track, and on my twenty-fifth birthday, we’ll see how far i’ve gotten.” the playfulness in his tone is one he’s unfamiliar with, but always comes out around the boy opposite him. his index finger taps against his nose as he nods in agreement. “you were brilliant. i mean—at the guessing,” he rushes out, cheeks flushing red. “um—i can tell you the story, if you’d like. it’s long, and rather sad, and there isn’t a happy ending. do you still want to hear it?”
“if i know klaus baudelaire,” stanley says with a teasing lilt, “and i do, i would make the argument that nothing is ever done just for fun. if you promise me not to drive yourself crazy trying to reach some unattainable goal, then i will agree to help you keep track.” it’s not entirely unlike himself, which is perhaps why he knows with such certainty it could end up happening. it’s much too easy, he’s found, to accidentally give himself unrealistic expectations and in the process, set himself up for failure. klaus is the smartest person stanley thinks he’s ever known, but even he isn’t immune to the pitfalls of being human. and more than anyone else, stanley hates seeing klaus upset. “well, i am a good guesser, but you’re also too predictable for your own good. or maybe i just know you too well by now. that seems equally as likely.” in truth, he’d like to think it’s the latter--there’s something very pleasing about the idea that he knows the other better than most people. he’s still grinning brightly when klaus agrees to tell the story, but it vanishes quickly at the adjectives used to describe it. his stomach squirms unpleasantly and he lifts a hand to place briefly on top of klaus’s where it’s sitting on the table, squeezing and offering him a tremulous smile which is meant to be encouraging, but probably doesn’t quite make it. he’s not surprised there’s no happy ending to the story--something about klaus says plainly he’s been through things most people don’t have to deal with. a corner of stanley’s mind tries to remind him this is the case for himself as well, but he forcefully pushes the thought away. “if you’d like to tell me, then i’d like to hear it. whatever it is, it’s a part of you, and you mean a lot to me, klaus. all of you, even the sad parts.”
gcldrushed:
if anything, sabrina was a bit thankful the stranger was paralyzed in fear considering the last thing she needed was more panic. her outer feelings appeared collected but inside she was SCREAMING. hearing his pleads, she took to action, raising her arms ahead of her to ground herself into the situation and as she recited the incantation, she didn’t move her eyes off the beast, pronouncing each word as zelda would have. and finally– thankfully, the creature began to snarl like a wild animal– it’s entire being sucked into the bottle of wine that the man now held, scratch marks in the concrete where it had attempted to hold on before finally sabrina sealed the bottle shut with the cork, collapsing onto her knees in complete exhaustion. “are you alright?”
stanley doesn’t know what he’s seeing and can’t make out any of the words the girl is saying, either, though whether that’s due to fear or it being another language, he doesn’t know. nor does he care--the only thing he wants is for the hellish figure before him to disappear and with it that terrible, pungent odor of raw sewage. there’s something else, too: for seemingly no reason at all, he wants to reach for his bird book, the one he always keeps in his bag, and hold it out in front of him like one might ward off a vampire with a cross in a movie. he hasn’t the first idea where this instinct comes from, and he happily dismisses it when finally, after what feels like endless minutes of paralyzing fear, the monster is suddenly gone. unless he’d seen it wrong, it is in fact inside the wine bottle. he nods at her question, clutching it tightly enough to drain his knuckles of color. “yes,” he manages in a thin voice. “i’m sorry, i...i’m still not used to some of the things i see around here.” he transfers the bottle to one hand and extends the other in offer to help her to her feet. “are you okay?”
amazingwcbs:
“Oh right, it’s you Stanley,” Peter quickly recovered, thanking himself quietly that he hadn’t been caught or apprehended by one of the superiors of sorts. “Sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare the holy frights out of you, but this really isn’t what it looks like,” Peter tried to convince him. Perhaps he did have somewhat of a guilty conscience on his person–in more ways than just one–but there were some questions that definitely needed to be answered about this school. Maybe this one was lower on the totem pole and a bit of a risk to take, but in Peter’s mind, this had to be for the greater good, right? “Well I honestly can’t give you a straight answer on this one considering the school themselves never made anything clear about it Stanley. So honestly, I don’t even know if we’re allowed to be on this side of the school without permission unless we’re tracking a student down for…tutoring I think?” Peter sighed in a slight fit of nerves, running his hands through his hair. “Look I just wanna find out what exactly the professors have got over on this side of the school. Just out of curiosity. I mean, come on. Why do they get all of the really cool, fun stuff in their wing while we have ‘basic student necessities for? Look, if we get caught and punished for something, I’ll take the fall alright?”
“i don’t even know what it looks like,” stanley stresses with a helpless little shrug, certain now he’d stumbled onto something he’d have preferred to avoid. it isn’t that he think peter’s a troublemaker, but rather that peter seems not quite able to help himself. “and as i said, the more times you repeat that it isn’t what it looks like, the more i’m inclined to believe it’s exactly that. which, to be honest, is going to be the case with anybody, so probably don’t use that particular line if it is a teacher who catches you next time.” he breaks off, realizing he’s unintentionally slipped into a pedantic and somewhat patronizing tone. it’s something he’s always done but almost never been able to catch before it happens. his brow furrows as peter speaks, not terribly bothered by the idea that the professors have nicer amenities than the students but certainly intrigued by that possibility. “that’s very nice of you, but i don’t want you getting in trouble either, peter. you sound pretty positive they have all these things--are you sure it isn’t just a rumor? anyone could have started it just hoping someone would take it seriously and wind up getting in trouble trying to see for themselves. anyway, what do you think they have? it’s not like they’re hiding a time machine from us in the east wing.”
roscgvld:
“i think she was my best friend. i don’t know.” harry’s brows furrow as he tries to force himself to remember, only to come up short and disappoint himself yet again. something was very wrong with his memories, but he wasn’t sure what just yet. that only made things worse, a frown settling over his previously bright demeanor. having such big blanks in his life grew more and more frustrating over time, leaving him anxious and less than pleasant to chat with. “i don’t think you do. no one needs this many books for any reason. ever. this is overkill, stan.” he quickly replaced his scowl with a smirk, fingers tapping against the books’ spines. eyes go wide at the snarky comeback and he can barely contain the laugh that sounds in the back of his throat. “i’m hilarious, thank you. but i never did claim to be funny. that was an assumption you made entirely on your own. i’m terribly sorry to disappoint.” a single shoulder shrugs as they continue on, his tongue held tightly between his teeth. silence hung over them for a few moments before stan speaks up about his—seemingly—made up sport. “neither have i,” he mutters out, barely audible. “i’ve dealt with my fair share of bullies. i’m sorry that i wasn’t always around to scare them away. i would’ve tried. i was lanky and awkward back in school, so i probably would’ve have been much help.” definitely not. harry had been uncomfortable in his body well through school, and even still struggled with his long limbs and awkward stature. he’s already sidestepping towards the door, basically inviting himself into the room. “yes, please. i need to put them down, and i’m worried you’ll snap in half if i let you carry them again.”
stanley gives him a sidelong glance, inclined to ask for clarification about what harry had just said but deciding to swallow the words at the last second. he’s not unfamiliar with the feeling of confusion, in particular when it relates to old friends he’s not quite sure actually exist. it was a bit of a running theme here at everly--had stanley found the idea anything less than abhorrent he might have tried to understand just what in the world was going on. as it stands, however, the very notion that something weird is going on makes him feel ill, and thus he ignores it. “i didn’t need you to tell me you think you’re hilarious,” he quips back, delighted to have gotten a laugh out of harry. “but i do appreciate the apology. i guess i’ll get over the disappointment someday.” it’s easy banter, which is something stanley cherishes and is a not insignificant factor in his ever-blossoming crush. he brushes easily past the slightly-mystifying answer harry gives about his apparently-unheard of sport, much more eager to focus on the fact he’s just said he’d have tried to scare away stanley’s bullies. “well, it would have been very chivalrous of you to try, anyway,” he states with a little nod. “twelve-year-old me appreciates the thought.” which is, of course, his way of not letting harry realize how much it means to him now. opening the door, he lets him in ahead of himself with the hope that he’ll be able to will his blush away by the time harry sets the books down and turn back around. “it wouldn’t be such a bad way to die, you know,” he says, grabbing a few from the stack and putting them carefully down on a table in the living area. “i’m bound to be snapped in half by something someday, so why not my favorite books?”
stanley uris ghost wrote this
what's one thing about everly you would change?
“it would be so, so cool if i could not run into monsters around campus. i know that’s, like, a really wild and outlandish request around here, but i’d be so grateful. literally just a modicum of sanity is all i’m asking for.”
❌
❌ JEALOUS
jealousy is difficult for stanley--it’s an emotion he feels extremely uncomfortable with and does everything in his power to hide it when it happens. he often makes a solid attempt at hiding it from himself, as well, and a decent majority of the time he does a pretty good job. it also depends on the subject of the jealousy; if it’s romantic in nature, he’s likely to become withdrawn and a little cold out of a misplaced sense of self-protection. if it’s jealousy of another kind, he may be exaggeratedly bright and enthusiastic to try and cover it up.
who's your best friend?
“klaus, definitely. i feel really comfortable around him and we’re almost always on the same page, which is a nice change from sometimes feeling like people don’t quite get me and i don’t quite get them, either. it feels wrong not to say richie and eddie, too. i hadn’t seen them in i can’t even remember how long, but...they’re my best friends, too. i think they always will be, even if we never spoke again.” ( @roscgvld, @svrvives, @ofcliches )
Emotions
Send me one and I’ll tell you about my muse when they’re…
☕ RELAXED ♒️ IRRITATED 💘 LUSTING 🌦 LONGING ☘ HOPEFUL 🍃 CONFUSED 🎡 AMUSED 🌞 HAPPY ⚡️ ANGRY 💧 SAD 💕 IN LOVE ❌ JEALOUS 💔 HEARTBOKEN 🏝 LONELY 🌙 EXHAUSTED 👻 AFRAID 👐 SURPRISED
HONESTY HOUR.
as always , meme day can get wild , so i’m leaving my inbox open to whatever shenanigans you see fit . good luck , me .
“i– this isn’t what it looks like.” the blonde stood in front of the alley way, dark pools of what looked like ink dripping from the uncorked bottle that remained in her hands, her panicked expression unchanged as the monster before her took to it’s feet. a demon, that sabrina had accidentally summoned while attempting her ritual, whoops. it soon moved it’s attention from her, lunging for the person standing just behind her but sabrina was quicker– the panic had SUBSIDED the moment she dove as well, just in time as the demon hit the ground instead of it’s desired victim. “i’ll explain in a minute–” she exclaimed breathlessly, using her body to shield as she stuffed the wine bottle into the person’s hands. “but i need you to be quiet and hold this, understand?”
the moment stanley’s gaze lands on the creature gaining its feet less than a yard away from where he stands, his mind goes into some kind of lockdown. there’s a hellish, vivid terror engulfing all of his senses like a thick coating of molasses, and he wants to scream, he wants to shriek until he doesn’t have any breath left in his body, but he can’t. he can’t even move, all he can do is stare in abject horror even as the girl is trying to speak to him, tell him to do something. absurdly, he thinks he can smell sewage. in fact, it’s overwhelming--he can definitely smell sewage, and even though he knows perfectly well his knees aren’t wet, they suddenly feel that way. a bottle is thrust into his hands and stanley, shaking like a leaf, clutches it with numb fingers. he can’t speak, so he nods fervently to let her know he understands. “please do something,” he gets out in a tinny whisper, horrified to feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes. “please, please, please do something, please.”
Peter wouldn’t have exactly called himself the mischievous type by any stretch of the imagination, but there were certainly times where curiosity got the better of him. While he was more than aware that the students were all separated and got dorm spaces to themselves, a rumor that had been crawling around recently that the professor’s side of the school was something…well, something otherworldly. Rumors that their own spaces at Everly were akin to a spacious two bedroom apartment with stairs, their own flat screens, and who knew what else. Why couldn’t the students get that? With his camera handy and web shooters hidden away on his wrists as Fitbit watches, Peter took a few steps forward, being feeling a hand touch his shoulder. “Uh, this isn’t what it l-looks like I swear!” he yammered up an excuse in response to the person who’d just found him.
stanley nearly jumps out of his skin at the abruptness and volume of peter’s reaction to a hand on his shoulder, stumbling backwards and only just managing to regain his balance before toppling over onto the floor. it’s absurd how easily startled he is, but that’s never been something stanley’s been able to change about himself. “jesus, peter, it’s me,” he breathes out, shaking out his hands as if he can expel some of the suddenly-anxious energy that way. “guilty conscience much?” come to think of it, he supposes it does look somewhat suspicious to be wandering around the teachers’ wing of the castle, but stanley’s intention had been only to find one of his professors to ask a question. his brow furrows, “you know, you would have looked a hundred times less guilty without the ‘this-isn’t-what-it-looks-like’ spiel. are you doing something i’m going to get in trouble for if i’m found with you?”
