What ringtone my muse has set for yours: Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
What contact photo my muse has set for yours: [image attachment]
What my muse thinks of the way yours texts: Well they text pretty similar so it’s a relief to have someone who texts her in the same way as she does.
How quickly my muse responds to your texts: Right away - unless they’ve had a fight, in which case she takes some time to compose the message.
How often our muses text: Just to check in when they’re not together. Sometimes if one needs to remind the other of something, or if they’re bored once in a while. They don’t really feel the need to always keep in touch because they’re content with the other having their own life.
How often our muses call: Well they live together so they’re always together when they start and end the day. But if they’re not then after meal times, or if something important happens. Briefly to wish good morning and say good night, and to talk about their day.
Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours: Not unless she’s mad. Even then she checks the voicemail right away to make sure it’s not an emergency.
Last text sent from my muse to yours: [text]: I made lasagna for you. [text]: It’s waiting for you. [text]: As is your wife. Come home soon :*
[ian]: I tried to mend it but it needs a new base plywood.
[ian]: I already canvassed a few, I’ll email you the list.
[ian]: The 2375 in mahogany looks nice. Let me know what you think. Yes, we need a sturdier bed.
[ ian ecn ;; text ]: Checking it.
[ ian ecn ;; text ]: I like it, but I also like the 2344. That one’s mahogany too, but I like the headboard better. It’ll look good with those new curtains I’ve been meaning to put up.
[ ian ecn ;; text ]: At least it’s not my back you’re breaking.
Creative Writing is de eerste voltijd HBO-opleiding die opleidt tot schrijver.
Dit jaar studeren wij, de eerste lichting studenten, af. Wij zijn Ian Jansen, Lisa Weeda, Jasmijn Kam, Lauranne van Grinsven, Jorina van der Laan en Roos Vlogman.
Op zaterdagavond 27 juni presenteren wij ons afstudeerwerk in huis Oostpool te Arnhem. Theater, proza en poëzie.
Wij zien jullie graag daar!
Reserveren? Mail: [email protected]
[sansen] one of our muses say the first I love you to the other.
There’s more than just a nip in the air - it’s freezing cold, in the middle of winter and Sydney knows better than to have spent her day taking a walk in the park. In her defense, she was supposed to go the library, but the sun was out and the warmth of the rays was deceptive enough for her to wager a stroll and a cup of coffee.
Twelve hours later, she sits in the living room, huddled in a blanket, her nose red and a little runny.
“You should’ve seriously stayed inside,” comes Ian’s voice from the kitchen. He’s been saying the same thing over and over, and yet again she nods sadly and regrets her choices.
“I know,” she groans, leaning back and burrowing herself into the couch cushions, willing them to swallow her up and provide further insulation. Outside, bits of snow float through the air and continue to make the window look like a frame of an ice palace. There’s a tap on her shoulder and she turns, humming at the slight aroma of something delicious.
Ian sits down beside her, placing a cup of chocolate in her already outstretched hands. She hesitantly takes a sip and groans.
“Is that -”
“Dark chocolate, yeah.”
“With -”
“Skim milk, brown sugar, a dash of cinnamon and no marshmallows. Yes. I know. I’ve been living with you for longer than you seem to remember.”
This time she takes a larger sip, and hums in delight at the perfect blend of taste in her mouth.
“God, I love you,” she whispers.
Then she feels her chest grow tight, and it’s got nothing to do with the cold. Beside her, Ian goes equally still. She can hear her heart beat and her mind whirs to life, repeating one phrase over and over and over. Oh god, oh dear god, oh god, oh god, oh dear god…
“Wh - What -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“That’s really good hot chocolate -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“But you just -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“Where did you get the dark chocolate -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“You said -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“I mean it’s really -”
Oh god, oh dear god, oh god,
“You said you love me.”
“I really didn’t.”
“Except, you did. You said you loved me.”
She can’t quite fathom his expression, although it looks a pretty good mix between shock and awe, and it’s the most inappropriate timing for her to be thinking how cute he looks. But she can’t help it. The wonder in his eyes soothes the rapid panic blooming in her chest, and the hint of a smile on his face lures one of her own.
“I did say that.”
“Did you mean it?”
“I don’t say things I don’t - oh,” her words are cut off with a kiss, and she instantly melts into. It’s warmer than the blankets could be and she wraps her arms around him after detangling them from her woolen cocoon. They stay there for hours, days or weeks, she’s unsure. But it seems to never end, and she doesn’t want it to.
“That is decent hot chocolate,” he says when he finally pulls away.
“I told you so,” she whispers, a giddy and all too giggly smile on her face. She turns away, a little red in the face, pressing her fingers to her cheek.
“I love you too, you know. In case you were wondering.”
To be honest, his kiss had distracted her from the terrifying possibility of a rejection so his words induce nothing more than a redder face and a wider smile that makes her cheeks hurt in the best ways possible.
She thanks her lucky stars she went on that stupid walk.
"What are you doing out here on the roof? The party’s inside."
garetwrites:
"I uh…” He didn’t want to tell her why. Ian didn’t appreciate hearing the gossip that bounced from one Alchemist to another in that pathetic event they call a party. They were wondering how he could bear living with her, sharing this romantic relationship with the woman known to have tainted herself in the past by getting involved with a Moroi. Before he could cause a scene and harm anyone, Ian decided to catch some air.
They didn’t know her as much as I did — and she has repented for her sins..
"It’s getting too crowded in there — I just needed some air."
Sydney frowned at his hesitation, nervously tucking back a piece of her hair. The wind around them was pleasantly chilly, making the lights inside twinkly and the streetlights seem sharp and fresh. She stepped a bit closer to him, frowning at his expression. Her hand reached out to touch his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned for him. Had something happened? Was he falling sick? "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Sydney was almost grinning ear to ear as she watched him walk in through the front door. Keeping her place on the couch, she simply shut the book she was reading and said, "Are you in a road trip kind of mood? Because I am."
