an instrumental mix for the eerie reality that exists on the wrong side of 3am
soft trees break the fall - trent raznor & atticus ross || who is the Vehicular - disparition || lapis’ tower - aivi & surasshu || the impossible astronaut - murray gold & BBC orchestra of wales || neptune - gustav holst || peridot - aivi & surasshu || vortex shedding - disparition || bill cipher - brad breeck || analog - disparition || to be continued… - brad breeck || indian - sleeping at last || lion’s mane - aivi & surasshu || the whale - mychael danna || message from home - hans zimmer || the rest of my life - hans zimmer || monster - detektivbyrån || little amy - murray gold & BBC orchestra of wales || let her go - hans zimmer || gleypa okkur - olafur arnalds || ende - disparition
note: i guess before we start i should say this is a daddy kink fic, it’s het and there will be smut. :)
Chapter 1: lunch dates and turpentine
The thing about college is no one is ever straight forward about it. Your future is mapped out in four years, followed by day after day of drinking, studying and sleeping, but no one talks about the grueling hours sitting in lecture halls listening to professors drone on about the do’s and don’t of microbiology , and nursing cold cups of weak coffee as you slave over an assignment that’s due in four hours.
Everything you learn about college in high school is a lie. The professors care more than you do - to a certain extent - and the coffee shops with a decent roast is usually out of your price range. Your scholarship doesn’t guarantee you a spot in a geeky sorority and most people could care less that you’re family isn’t rich and your apartment is a cluttered mess.
It’s taken Marple Sutherland two years to figure this all out, and it still seems to come as a shock to her that being average is somehow acceptable.
She washes her clothes in the laundromat on the corner and eats take-out at least twice a week while flipping through her notebook looking for the lost page of scribbled down notes she needs to study. Her roommate, Teagan, hasn’t left her room for at least three days and the stench of turpentine permeates from under the door.
“Teag?” At twenty-one, Marple would hope Teagan would have figured out that ventilation was the way to go when painting in her room. The thick, pungent smell said otherwise as Marple knocked on her roommate’s door.
ahhhh whAT A CRAZY DAY IT’S BEEN! i’m a bit upset because i spent most of today fretting over the assignments due tomorrow that i left myself no time to study (or even to queue posts on tumblr)!! but one thing i’m grateful for today is that a couple of my friends gave me some early birthday presents!! my best friend got me like 6 notebooks from muji????? just how lucky am I???? can’t wait to write in it!! ✨