#context: candor has learned in its long life that even as close as their thoughts and presences are linked

[entropii]

Actually I will put this little Candor and Chime doodle here too

#massive 180 from previous reblog but i do like this #context: candor has learned in its long life that even as close as their thoughts and presences are linked #sometimes that assurance does not do the same thing as a physical assurance (gentle word not the same as a gentle touch) #hence it will sometimes reach out with its inner workings or shape them into things like limbs for its pilot #hand to hold hand arms to hug #refracted light #my art #oc #candor #chime

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

frENEMIES, pt.9 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Long overdue, Y/N and Grayson finally reunite.

Warnings: angst, fluff, indicating a spiked drink

Series Masterlist

"Being lonely and being alone are two entirely different things. One is imposed on you and one you choose. Yet somehow I found myself with a little bit of both.

Every year that went by and I watched new couples form and break up, I longed for a relationship of my own. It wasn't due to lack of trying, because I did try! However, for some unknown reason every guy I got close to would soon ghost me. And for a while I thought it was me, like I'm the reason why they all leave. Funny thing is, none of them were ever important to me - not like the cocky quarterback I felt drawn to despite him being able to raise my blood pressure dangerously high without even speaking.

In these years he had been flagged as a hothead, a bomb just waiting to go off and I had no idea why. Maybe he was just as misunderstood as me, because no matter how much we fight, in the end it always felt like he had my back.

It was something I learned when one of those frat parties turned into something more than I bargained for. All I remember is having a good time, dancing with a handsome stranger, then waking up in my bed with my quarterback sat by my side. I had a killer headache and parched mouth and as if he could read my mind, a glass of water was soon offered to me. Once I laid back, a little confused, I looked at him and the worry etched in every line of his beautiful face - no trace of the cocky guy I was used to.

He played with my hair until I fell asleep and ran his knuckles down my cheek so softly, tenderly, careful as if I were made of glass and he could break me. He told me everything will be fine and i should sleep some more, that I am safe and he won't go. 

I believed him.

I trusted him without restrain, and I knew...I knew he'd protect me. The line between love and hate had always been blurred with us and that night it didn't even exist.

I know what happened that night now. Not just that night but with every guy that thought I looked like a fun night and nothing more that you made sure would never hurt me.

Thank you for being my guardian angel, quarterback. I'll always remember that."

When Grayson showed up, seeing her engrossed in a daydream of sorts, her back turned to him, he still couldn't find a way to calm his heartbeat. She looked formidable from behind that desk, but it wasn't about how she looked at all but what she might do when she sees him.

He can tell her book had none of the bitterness he thought she felt for him. None of the hate. Nothing negative at all. Even his flaws were so artistically written that he came off like a good man.

Flaws. Grayson knew he was full of them. The scar between his eyebrows and the one on his chin. His coldness towards people. His ability to scare away anyone that looked at him, or her - especially her. His temper, his womanizing ways, his asthma and his dyslexia. 

However, that is usually only how deep people saw into him. But she? She saw him fully. She saw past all the nastiness that consumed and and saw what he truly was. Beautiful. Because what is a human being without flaws? She knew that the flaws make people who they are. They make everyone individual and their own person. That flaws make people interesting. And a human with flaws is a beautiful one. His flaws were the main reason she ever fell in love with him, and not some measly prince who has their whole life handed to them with a gold crown. She loved him, flaws and all.

The book was emotional, funny, filled with all the things he hoped she'd once say to him but never did. Had he known she truly felt so much for him, Grayson would have stopped at nothing until he made her his girl.

And now, looking at her with fear in his chest, he still opened his mouth - it was always faster than his mind.

When she turned around, he had never thought he'd hear the heavenly sound of his name upon her lips and what truly took him by surprise is the moment she put down her cup and leapt into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to hold her up so she doesn't end up hanging. He found his face stuffed with her hair, but he didn't mind the gentle reminder of her signature scent, it didn't change all those years.

In her embrace the world stopped still on its axis. There was no time, no wind, no rain. There was something so warm, something that felt right, smelt right. She let her body sag, her muscles become loose. He gave her the respect of an equal, holding her a little stronger than it allowed her the freedom to breathe, but in that embrace she felt her worries loose their keen sting.

"Wow!" Letting him go way too soon for both their comfort, Y/N took a step backwards, her smile never leaving her face. "You look a lot bigger in person than you do on my TV!" She exclaimed and it didn't take long for Grayson to realize she watches his games.

"Fangirling over me? Watching my games? Are you sure you're really Y/N? I mean, you should watch what you say, someone might think you care." Chuckling, he puts his copy of the book on the desk as she rolls her eyes at him and he felt a lot more at ease once he’s seen her usual sign of frustration with him.

"Yes, asshole, I care about you." She didn't try to maneuver around it, admitting the truth shamelessly as he smiled at her candor, truly grateful he finally heard her say it and not in an audio version of the book.

Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her into his chest swiftly enough to make her gasp, his smile bright as their eyes remain glued to each other, neither able to look away.  His eyes are so different, more soft than she knew eyes could be.

"That's better. It sounds more like you." He says quietly, just above a whisper as he wonders if she can tell his heart is nearly breaking his rib cage.

A moment later, her palm splayed against his chest feels just that, her eyes dropping to where her hand can feel every single erratic beat. Her cheeks turn a darker shade of pink and he knows she knows and he doesn't give a shit.

For the first time in forever, he can't find it in him to regret letting her know she has his heart in the palm of her hand - both figuratively and literally.

"Three years, huh?" He raises an eyebrow as her eyes flicker back up to his. Clearing her throat, she nods before tapping his chest and taking a step back.

"Yeah. You haven't changed much. Just the hair...and your arms got bigger!" She exclaims, chuckling nervously as she looks around to make sure they're still alone.

"Do you regret it?" Her voice is oddly quiet, her arms crossing over her chest as she let out a shuddered breath when his eyebrows furrow at her question.

"What?"

"I don't know...everything?" Forcing a smile, she leans back on the desk behind her for support, afraid she might fall - literally and figuratively for Grayson. Her treacherous heart already felt like it could bleed itself dry just for one damn moment of pure happiness with him and it scared her more than anything.

But Grayson had to think, to understand why she’s asking him that. He likes that she wants to own her mistakes, but she needs to forgive herself too. Until she does that she'll never let him in to help her heal. And he wanted that - a second chance with her more than anything. He would give anything.

He was quiet for a moment, too long for her not to let her past insecurities flood her. Her chest felt like it would collapse under pressure and her face burned like hot lava, she opened her mouth to tell him to forget she ever asked but he started talking instead.

"Just because we never really worked back then doesn't mean I didn't love you. And it doesn't mean that I would ever regret having the privilege to know you. To just be around you. I regret being a coward. I could have done more because even then I knew I wanted you to be my endgame." And there wasn't a single pause in his answer, no trace of any sort of doubts. Grayson meant what he said and be felt it with all his being.

He wished he was more capable of being raw and vulnerable with her, to have made some changes to the way they communicated. Something that would have given her a chance to see he was besotted with her, not the playboy he portrayed himself as. Come to think of it, he'd trade everything, even football, just to have her. She was more important than he knew...until she was gone, he really had no clue.

And while she was still reeling from the word love he used in context of them being something more than just frenemies, she couldn’t help the glistening tears from filling her eyes.

"Yeah", with tears in her eyes she sniffles. "Me too. I wish I wasn't so wrapped up in my own fears. That I at least tried, you know? Maybe we would have been happy", rubbing her nose, she gives him a small smile. 

But when he takes a step closer, someone else enters the bookstore and she finds herself panicked, yet relieved when the person seems to vanish in the stalls instead of coming to her for an autograph.

"This isn't...uh...If someone would to see his together, they would figure it out.” People have been trying to figure out who the mysterious quarterback is for years and one person is enough for a media frenzy to start. 

“We should find a private place. Maybe my apartment?" She rambled as Grayson slowly closed the distance, his mischievous smile growing with every step.

"Let them figure it out. I don't give a shit." And before she had a chance to react, his lips found hers. Lips parted, she moaned against his as he pressed her closer to him and she submitted willingly, and he fucking loved it. 

They kissed without a care in the world, his arms around her tight as he kept her close, their mouths locked in a new kind of an argument, one against oxygen. They couldn't breathe, their kiss anything but gentle, relentless and passionate and filled with so many emotions they wanted to scream at the top of their lungs but neither could handle the thought of breaking the kiss.

Until it was broken by a voice Y/N didn't recognize, but Grayson sure as hell did.

"Grayson? Babe?"

Wiping her mouth, Y/N took a step back as her legs trembled, still overwhelmed by the electrifying chemistry between them that seemed to have burned through her sanity. She didn’t dare look away from him, catching the stunning beauty from the corner of her eye.

"Grayson, tell me this isn't what I think it is. Tell me and I’ll believe you." Y/N whispered barely, her voice laced with a desperate plea and a hint of disappointment she couldn't relieve.

"It's not." He starts, but the long legged blonde stepped beside him, staking her claim.

"Why the hell were you kissing my man?"

And that’s when Y/N truly got a good look at her incredible beauty, but also her very pregnant belly.

Tags: @livexdolan​​ @dreadingdaisies​​ @strangerliaa​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​ @beinscorpio​​ @peacedolantwins​​ @dolandolll​​ @idekxdolan​

PART 10 

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan quarterback au #grayson dolan quarterback

[penniesforthestorm]

On Jane, Part 2

Actually I Mostly Talk About Rochester in This One

Greetings, pals! Today's chunk lends itself a bit more naturally to analysis, because it's primarily concerned with the development of the relationship between Jane and Rochester, concurrent with the deepening of the mystery surrounding Thornfield Hall (those 'bumps in the night' I mentioned in yesterday's post). Again, if you haven't read the book, you will probably be confused by a lot of what follows here—if you have read the book and you're still confused, I apologize. With that in mind, let's get to it.

First of all, let's talk about this Rochester fellow. By the time he actually physically enters the picture, we know very little about him. He's not a titled peer, but he's evidently wealthy enough to spend most of his time traveling around Europe. He's apparently well-liked by his tenants and employees, though Mrs. Fairfax (so far, the chief source of information for both Jane and the audience) makes a reference to his eccentric personality. Beyond that, he's an unknown quantity.

When Jane first sees him charging down the icy lane on his black horse, she thinks of a mystical creature, the Gytrash, known to haunt solitary lanes at nightfall. During their first real conversations, Rochester teasingly accuses Jane of bewitching his horse, asking if he had broken through a fairy-circle. These particular scenes are some of my favorites, because they give such a clear idea of both characters. For his part, Rochester addresses Jane as a person, with thoughts and opinions worth hearing. And Jane rises to the occasion, frankly and innocently answering his questions. In the second conversation, when Rochester asks if Jane finds him handsome, she answers ‘no’, not out of any intent to insult, but out of simple honesty. Rochester pretends to be piqued, but given the way the rest of the conversation proceeds, it’s clear that he finds her candor admirable, even as he pokes fun at her naïveté.

For a while, not much happens. Winter thaws into spring, and Rochester and Jane’s conversations deepen. He tells her the rather Romantic story of Adele’s parentage—himself, the young wastrel, seduced by the feckless showgirl Celine Varens. But the anecdote is revealing. Despite his professed lack of enthusiasm for the company of children and his rather dismissive attitude toward Adele herself, he nevertheless rescued her from a probable grim fate. In Paris, Adele was the illegitimate daughter of a woman who was about one rung up the ladder from a prostitute. In England, she is being raised in a comfortable home, and educated as a member of the upper classes, no doubt with an eye toward a future advantageous marriage, as long as nobody asks too many questions. One could argue that Rochester’s actions in this case constitute the most basic level of human decency, but within the context of the story, wherein children are either spoiled rotten or cast off and starved, Rochester comes off looking like quite the benefactor.

(I could derail this into a Whole Thing about the trend of novels in the 19th Century still functioning largely as allegory and not precisely meant to represent the Real World—Dickens, Thackeray, Hardy to an extent, and of course Wuthering Heights, but I feel like that deserves further and better research than what I’m going for here. Still, I think it’s another thing that often gets missed in discussions of this novel, and thus, the more melodramatic elements of the work seem incongruous with its overall ‘realistic’ tone.)

Now, a bit more on those bumps in the night. Ever since Jane’s earliest days at Thornfield, she’s been aware of an eerie laugh issuing from some rooms on the third story of the house. There is a servant who stays there, rarely venturing down to the rest of the house, and her name is given as Grace Poole. Everybody seems rather vague on the subject of what Grace actually does, and Jane, being observant, begins to suspect that there is something going on with Grace, despite her thoroughly ordinary appearance and taciturn manner.

These suspicions come quite literally roaring to life one night, when Jane hears that laugh in the hall outside her bedroom, and ventures outside to discover that Rochester’s room has been set on fire. Jane runs in and douses him with water, and once he is aware of the situation, he dashes off, telling her to stay there and wait until he returns. The bit that follows his return is an interesting one—Rochester urges Jane’s silence, and confirms Grace Poole as the owner of the laugh, terming her a ‘singular’ (here meaning odd) person. Jane begins to leave, but Rochester detains her for a second, sincerely thanking her for saving his life, and speaking to her in his fondest tone yet. This instant marks another significant step in Jane’s ascension—she is not just Rochester’s ‘paid subordinate’, she is his confidante and quite literally his savior. The incident has bound them together in a way neither of them understands just yet.

And this closeness is seemingly dashed the next morning, when Jane is informed that Rochester has gone off to visit some friends, and will likely not return for several weeks. When he does come back, he is accompanied by a full complement of guests, including the imposing, imperious Miss Blanche Ingram, who Rochester is rumored to be courting as a future bride. At first, Jane is crushed—Blanche has money, beauty, accomplishments, and power. Again, this could be a jumping-off point for a discussion about how marriage among the upper classes at that period of time still hewed fairly close to its feudal roots, more as a way of securing finances than as an expression of emotional attachment. But you can read Jane Austen for that. In this case, Blanche wanting to marry Rochester for his money isn’t quite as much of a stain on her character as it might seem to a modern reader. Her vanity and coldness, however, serve as kindling for Jane’s feisty side—at one point, she dismisses Blanche as ‘a mark beneath jealousy’.

Another strange incident occurs after the guests have been staying at Thornfield for quite some time. Mr. Rochester leaves on some errand, and in his absence, a stranger shows up at the house, claiming to be a friend of Rochester’s. He is described as around thirty-five, dark-haired and handsome, but somehow deficient. Jane gives particular attention to his ‘wandering eye’ and his peculiar accent. We soon learn that his name is Richard Mason, and he has come all the way from Jamaica to pay a visit to his ‘old friend’.

In the interest of keeping things moving, I’m not going to discuss the business with Rochester in disguise as the fortune-teller. Once he unmasks himself before Jane, and she informs him of Mason’s arrival, we see a reaction in him we haven’t seen before: fear. He begs Jane for comfort, asking her what she would do if the assembled company suddenly turned against him. Assured of her fidelity, he rejoins his friends and apparently greets Mason calmly enough.

Once again, however, Jane is awakened by noises in the dark—screams, this time, from the regions where Grace Poole keeps her dark vigils. In due course, Rochester summons her. The newly-arrived Mr. Mason is lying injured in an upstairs room, and Rochester enlists Jane to keep watch while he fetches the doctor. He orders Mason not to speak to Jane, which, considering that the guy’s barely conscious, doesn’t seem like a difficult request to fulfill.

Rochester and the doctor return, and it’s revealed that Mason was bitten, as well as being stabbed with a knife. Once Mason is fixed up enough to leave, Rochester sends him on his way, but not before a brief, fraught conversation, in which Mason begs him to take care of Her—that mysterious inhabitant of the upstairs room. Rochester tersely replies that he has done his best, and will continue to do it.

Rochester then summons Jane into a garden, and attempts to unburden himself to her. He alludes to his past misdeeds, without giving much in the way of satisfactory detail, and testifies to his sincere wish for his own redemption. He tells her, finally, that he thinks he has found it… in Miss Ingram. He calls her his ‘lovely one’, and suddenly becomes cheerful and jocular. Neither Jane, nor the reader, is satisfied by this.

This brings us nearly to the end of the book’s actual first volume, and (more to the point) near the end of this installment of my…whatever this is. I also think I’m going to need to do two more of these, rather than just one, like I’d originally planned. I’m assuming that if you’ve gotten this far, you’re just as invested as I am.

There is one more major occurrence: the illness and death of Jane’s Aunt Reed. Bessie, Jane’s old nurse, comes to inform her that Mrs. Reed has suffered a stroke, but has been asking for Jane. Jane pays one last visit to her former childhood home, to find it greatly changed: her cousin John has committed suicide, Eliza has become a religious obsessive, and Georgiana is a hapless social climber (though it’s worth noting that she treats the adult Jane with a certain friendliness). And what of Aunt Reed? Before she slips off her mortal coil, she passes Jane a vital piece of information—Jane has a rich uncle from her father’s side, a wine-merchant in Madeira, who has asked for information on Jane’s whereabouts, with a view toward making her his heir. Jane, for her part, offers her aunt her forgiveness, and in this way, seals off that portion of her past.

In tomorrow’s recap, we’ll get to the really juicy stuff. For anyone who’s reading along, thanks a bunch, and feel free to come tell me your thoughts. For anyone who missed yesterday’s, Part 1 is here: http://penniesforthestorm.tumblr.com/post/176721452934

#prose #Jane Eyre #Part 2 of ? #views my own