Yearbook staff took a picture while I wasn’t looking; tackled the photographer for his camera when I found out.
(Source: goblackandwhite)
My name is Maura, and I’ve been neglecting Tumblr lately.
I’m sure you’ve missed me.
Yeah, I think we all did.
Aw, I’m loved!
My name is Maura, and I’ve been neglecting Tumblr lately.
I’m sure you’ve missed me.
I hate everything that isn’t Ben & Jerry’s.
Wheeeee, food binging! That is all.
thesebastardsmythe replied to your post: …if anyone wants to provide me with a distraction…
What’s wrong, Laura?I had a fight with my boyfriend and I’m an idiot.
Come eat with me and Blaine.
Sounds good. Can you guys pick me up or something?
thesebastardsmythe replied to your post: …if anyone wants to provide me with a distraction…
What’s wrong, Laura?
I had a fight with my boyfriend and I’m an idiot.
blimeyblainey replied to your post: …if anyone wants to provide me with a distraction…
Do you want to come eat with Sebbers and I?!
I don’t want to intrude or anything…
…if anyone wants to provide me with a distraction…
…I’d be eternally grateful.
Not Sad Movies and Lips || Masher
Maura moved off of Asher’s lap and to the other end of the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I…” Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she knew the answer. It was already pretty painful for her to tell Asher about it in the first place, even if he was her boyfriend. “I’m sorry…” Scrambling for the right words, anything that would get him to stop looking at her with that hurt expression and broken look in his eyes. “You know it’s hard for me to…I didn’t want…It’s something I should be able to deal with on my own, instead of letting it hurt other people. I made a stupid mistake and it’s my job to fix it, okay?”
“But you don’t have to deal with it on your own,” he insisted. He didn’t understand, not fully, how she was feeling. His own experience with hurting himself had been completely different, not prompted by a need for the pain but by a desperate want to rid himself of a certain part of himself. ”It’s not your job to fix this, not all by yourself. Please, I just want to help.” He just didn’t know how, and he couldn’t know how unless she talked to him about it.
“I don’t need—” Well, she was about to say that she didn’t need Asher’s help, but she did. Painfully so. The trouble was that she truly didn’t believe she deserved it. “I mean, you just got done worrying over your own freaking existence and I figured I’d just try and kick the habit again. It’s the last time, I swear.” Maura knew she was probably lying, but the look on Asher’s face was breaking her heart. God, what should she say? Try as she might, the right words just wouldn’t come to her.
Not Sad Movies and Lips || Masher
Maura raised an eyebrow, puzzled, before glancing down. Prying Asher’s fingers from her sides, she yanked her shirt down. God, what a way to ruin her mood. If only she had been stronger, if only she had been less stupid…She looked up at Asher, stammering. “Uh, those…those are from a while ago.” If “a while” meant a little less than a week. In a moment of shame and weakness, she had a bit of a relapse. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened—one minute, she was twirling the lighter around in her fingers, lamenting her new resolve to quit smoking for good, and the next, she was holding a white-hot piece of metal to her side.
“They don’t look like they’re from a while ago,” Asher pointed out, hands retreating to his sides. ”Why… why didn’t you talk to me?” He was trying not to be accusatory or angry, but he couldn’t help but feel hurt that she had broken her promise to him. He hated seeing her hurt and all the more so when he felt as though he should have been able to prevent.
Maura moved off of Asher’s lap and to the other end of the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I…” Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she knew the answer. It was already pretty painful for her to tell Asher about it in the first place, even if he was her boyfriend. “I’m sorry…” Scrambling for the right words, anything that would get him to stop looking at her with that hurt expression and broken look in his eyes. “You know it’s hard for me to…I didn’t want…It’s something I should be able to deal with on my own, instead of letting it hurt other people. I made a stupid mistake and it’s my job to fix it, okay?”
Not Sad Movies and Lips || Masher
She and Asher really seemed to be getting into the groove of this whole kissing thing as their makeout sessions increased in frequency. Asher’s arms held her pinned against him with little room to make an escape—not that she wanted to, anyways. “I wouldn’t object to it,” Maura said in between kisses, in response to Asher’s little kink. “We’ll have to try different things out. For now, though—” she shrugged out of the sweatshirt she was wearing and cast it to the edge of the couch, leaving her in a low-cut tee. “I like this. Let’s keep doing this.” She ducked her head to kiss him again, not noticing that her shirt was riding up to reveal the tops of a handful of burn scars, peeking out from her jeans.
“Trying things is good,” Asher agreed, stomach fluttering at the thought. He pressed into the kiss with a hum of pleasure, his fingers gravitating to the hem of her shirt to slide teasingly over the sliver of skin revealed there. When they brushed over burnt skin, however, he froze, a frown of worry and confusion forming on his face as he pulled back. ”What…” His throat went dry and his stomach dropped when he saw the scars, some of which looked quite fresh. ”Maura…” No, there had to be another explanation, those couldn’t be what he thought they were. She had promised him that she would come to him if she ever felt like doing that again.
Maura raised an eyebrow, puzzled, before glancing down. Prying Asher’s fingers from her sides, she yanked her shirt down. God, what a way to ruin her mood. If only she had been stronger, if only she had been less stupid…She looked up at Asher, stammering. “Uh, those…those are from a while ago.” If “a while” meant a little less than a week. In a moment of shame and weakness, she had a bit of a relapse. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened—one minute, she was twirling the lighter around in her fingers, lamenting her new resolve to quit smoking for good, and the next, she was holding a white-hot piece of metal to her side.
I'm 17, and I live with the Hudmels out of the goodness of their hearts.
