#she's very. imaginative. she loves fairy tales and romanticizes everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ariel-seagull-wings · 3 years

Text

TOP 12 PRINCE CHARMINGS (FROM CINDERELLA)

@superkingofpriderock @princesssarisa @sunlit-music @mademoiselle-princesse @amalthea9 @anne-white-star @lioness--hart @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @astrangechoiceoffavourites @parxsisburnixg @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @filmcityworld1

I made a ranking for Cinderella. Is fair that i make one for her greatest love. What is interesting about Cinderella’s Prince is that, in contrast to Cinderella, who is more of a character defined by her resilient hard work, kindness, romanticism and dreams of a better life, he is more of a simbolic reward for her to win, with makes him a blank slate that gives total freedom to screenwriters, directors and animators imaginations, but over the years adaptations have shown some comonalities: sometimes he is a classical brave hero, sometimes he is a lovely bumbling dork, sometimes he is just a hedonist concerned with his own fun, but at the end of the day, they all fall in love with the honest and good hearted heroine. And tonight, i will share my favorite takes on the man who catchet Cinderella’s and, by extension, our hearts.

12º Tony Oliver as the Prince in Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics (1989)

There is a Prince who just wants his Dad to stop meddling with his personal life. Specially when it comes to making a ball despite the fact that he doesn’t know how to dance. But thankfully for him, while trying to escape trough the gardens he literary stepped over onto a napping Cinderella, who promptly teached him how to dance, and how to love.

11º Florian Bartholomäi as Prince Viktor in Sechs Auf Einen Streich (2011)

This Prince can’t hit a target with his arrows to save his life, and isn’t particularly excited to have the responsabilities of a King. But he is kind and humble to help Cinderella to catch back some lost piglets in the woods, even if it means getting dirt in the mud, and for her and the audience, sometimes that is enough.

10º Jimmy Smits as Prince Felipe in Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales For Every Child (1995)

A Prince who admits that he isn’t fit for battlefield and would rather spend time chilling in the Palace’s dance floor. What it’s not to love about him?

09º Pavel Trávnícek as the Prince in Three Wishes for Cinderella (1973)

The original Slacker Prince, who is constantly running away from studying with his tutor to go hunting in the forest. He looks chill enough to accept handing over the actual role of ruller to a wise Prime Minister.

08º Masami Kikuchi as Prince Charles in Cinderella Monogatari (1996)

A Slacker who has to learn about dealing with the consequences of his actions! Charles prefers a hundred times to go out fencing than to studying Power and Politics, and wears his best friend’s Alex clothes to pretend that he is page and go out stealing the grapes of his own family vines. But when Cinderella is unfairly framed by the grape robbery, Charles has to slowly understand that not everything is fun and games, and that he has to think in doing something for the well being of others, providing a good character arc about maturity and responsability.

07º Dougray Scott as Prince Henry in Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998)

Another Prince who has to go trough a character arc, this time about letting go of his prejudices. Henry first runs in the heroine Danielle while running away from an arranged marriage that his parents are trying to push over him. He falls in love with her when she presents herself as the noble lady Nicole and the two share heroic adventures, but eventually the masquerade will have to be broken, and Henry must decide: will his class prejudices win over him, or will he accept Danielle for who she trully is and assume the love he has for her to the world?

06º Matthew Broderick as Prince Henry in Fairy Tale Theater (1985)

The adorkable Prince who gaved a second ball to see his mysteryous beloved lady again and conquered her hearth with melon balls. Three word describe him: Himbo! Himbo! Himbo!

05º Stuart Damon as Prince Chistopher in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella (1965)

The veteran warrior hero who after having many adventures rescuing damsels and slaying dragons and evil sorcerours, is getting ready to settle down in a calm, domestic family life. When i watch Damon’s Prince Christopher, i feel that his shoulder will be a strong source of support and comfort to Cinderella after all she went trough, and that’s what makes me to want so much for him to get together with her.

04º Paolo Montalbán as Prince Christopher in Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella (1997)

While Stuart Damon was a strong Prince with lots of world experience and confidence, Paolo Montalbán was a young man that, instead of being known as a travelling dragon slayer and damsel rescuer,had the feeling of falling in love itself be his greatest adventure. Because of that, i felt that as a romantic partner, he was in a more equal footing with his version of Cinderella, portrayed as another young lady that was about to discover the world, and the two found the perfect companion in each other for their emotional journey. Plus, it helps the higher ranking that after this 1997 TV Movie production, Montalbán retook the role of Prince Christopher in the 2000 stage production known as The Enchanted Edition. Is he or not the definitive face for this musical version of the character at this point?

03º Richard Chamberlain as Prince Edward in The Slipper and The Rose (1976)

He can sing, he can dance, he has a happy musical number about pondering his mortality in his family’s mausoleum, he helps his best friend getting together with the girl he likes, he fights with his father for the right to marry whoever he wants for love. Chamberlain gaved a very energetic an fun performance to the one of the most idealistic and romantic encarnations of Cinderella’s Prince, and for this he earns the number three spot in this ranking.

02º Michael Wilding as Prince Charles in The Glass Slipper (1955)

After spending years studying in London, Paris and Rome, Prince Charles returns to his father’s small principality to reconect with his people and prepare to become the next rulling Duke. One day, walking in the woods, he remembers that he didn’t knew what sorrow was until one day when he was eight years old and saw a poor five year old girl of sad rebellious eyes crying and running in despair for the loss of her mother. By the force of destiny, he finds that same girl as a grown woman and despite her initial rejection of his polytiness as mockery, he insists in being her friend, presenting himself as Son of the Cook at the Palace of the Duke and teaching her to dance. One day, Charles that he is falling for the sad girl and kisses her, but she runs away, afrayed of being loved. And he melancholicaly sits at the piano to sing, reflecting about how her sad eyes and explosive rebellious temper, instead of repelling, atract him to her, and he asks himself how to make her thrust him.

For being this kind, perfect friend, this version was originally going to be my number one. Until he got surpassed by...

01º Aleksey Anatolyevich Konsovsky as the Prince in Zolushka (1947)

This is a colorfull russian feature film adaptation of the Charles Perrault version of the fairy tale. One of the highlights of this adaptation is how it combines its visuals with good dialogues, where the characters talk honestly about their feelings. Thanks to that, it is one of the first adaptations to explore the Prince as human being, instead of treating him as a simple trophy. We first see him sitted at the ball, looking bored, trowing a paper plane onto the Stepmother to amuse himself. And then, he is called by his father to receive the new guest of unknown identity, and smiling in awe he says to his father that he cannot speak at her vision. A magician makes a spell for the guests to spent time in their dream lands, and the Prince gets alone with the unknown lady in a beautifull garden, asking what counsel would she give to a friend of his who likes a lady but doesn’t know how to tell her. He gets to sing to her. Back at the ball room, during their dance he guesses that she would like some ice cream, and he goes far as to select fourty different flavours, but when he arrives, the lady says goodbye and that she must go away, but he begs her to stay, declaring his love for her. When she is gone, leaving a glass slipper behind, he admits to have felt ofended with her running from him, but still wants to get reunited with her, going in the next morning to a search in the woods, where he hears a beautifull singing voice: the voice of his mysteryous beloved from the ball, to whom he promisses going in the most difficult quests, if they mean he will earn her love.

Prankster, wish guesser, shy, proud, and, above all, romantic, Aleksey Anatolyevich Konsovsky’s performance is historically significant in reaching the right balance of making the Prince the perfect man of Cinderella’s dreams, while also being palpably human, and that is why he is my number one portrayal of Cinderella’s Prince.

Honorable Mention: Robert Westenberg in Into the Woods (1987), The Triplets version (1998).

This list is dedicated to the memory of Libuše Šafránková (7 June 1953 – 9 June 2021)

#cinderella #moodboard #wallpapers #fairy tales #fairytales #fairy tale #fantasy #mithology #folklore #brothers grimm #charles perrault #genre fiction #pop culture #my rankings

29 notes · View notes

likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Note

no worries, you can't rush perfection ;) just have fun creating! It's a Grigor imagine where yn is the cousin of Catherine that goes to visit her when her husband dies (he was VERY old and they didn't have children ) she didn't have the same romanticized version og lofe that Catherine did, but is very kind and patient, and they're each others best friends. And when she meets Grigor, she has a real chance in love ( I just wanted to give him love) what do you think?

Hi there!!! If you don’t mind, since it’s an imagine, I will write this like a headcanon (I have a lot on my plate right now and I’m trying to take things one at a time). So thank you for your patience and trust in me! (plus the line Grigor says during the ball was inspired from the scene in @a-night-at-the-0pera‘s Virtues Uncounted fic in Part Four- go check out this masterpiece if you can!

When you learned the truth about Peter’s real nature, your heart sank for your cousin.

At that point, you knew she had left in her carriage on her way to the marriage altar to meet them. Even if you could write a letter, by the time it arrived, it would be too late. The day she stepped off would be the day of their marriage.

These were such thoughts as you paced through the graveyard to lay a few lilies on your late husband's grave.

And fantasies of “Rescuing” your cousin troubled your mind as you boarded the carriage to Russia, bound in black clothes.

Catherine ran out to greet you and asked “oh, Y/N! You poor thing, is everything alright?”

I could say the same to you!

You say everything is fine.

“It wasn’t like he was a-a fairy tale prince or something. And that stuff is just in stories. It was hard...it is hard sometimes but...it’s just complicated, Catherine.”

Your husband was a good deal older. A grandfather with children who long since left.

But your family was deep in debt and starting to struggle.

And as old as he was, he was wealthy and decent.

As much as you dreaded the wedding night, he merely pecked your lips and asked if you would like to read to him until he fell asleep.

He didn’t want a wife, but a friend.

made sure he had his meals with you and sewed with him and read to him- sharing stories of the past sometimes among quiet walks where he struggled.

But even if you were fond of him- not romantically- death still knocked on his door and carried him off in a violent, sudden illness.

So love maybe wasn’t for you.

And one night you are invited to a ball with dancing.

“Oh! My dress! Y/N- my dress has a tear in it! How did that happen?” Catherine fretted as she looked at it in her closet.

Before her maid could utter a word you walked forward with a sewing needle and patched it up. The maid looked dumbfounded but relieved for a minute to sit on the chair and rest her feet.

“Here you go! Although no silly tear would stop you from being the belle of the ball, Sophie!” you jested, using her old name.

She grinned at the use of it and said thank you half a dozen times, glad to have her favorite frock in repair.

Once you entered the ball, people bowed but stared at you wide-eyed. Normally only the Emperor spoke so frequently and stayed close to the empress.

And dressed in a pink frock with gold trimmings against Catherine’s blue, you seemed like two sides of the same coin.

As you accepted a glass goblet of red wine from a serf, a small group of courtiers approached you both. Though one- a tall man with a pointed face and kind eyes locked onto your own eyelids.

“Why I know the empress- but who is the angel in pink?” he asked.

Your cheeks felt warmer than normal and your eyes slid down to your skirt.

“This is my cousin, Lady Y/L/N- Count Dymov.”

He took your hand and kissed it, with a gleam in his eye that seemed at once sweet and mischievous at the same time.

There were butterflies in your stomach. You forgot how to speak

“Y/N is a widow now- so I’ve invited her here to distract her.”

“I’m so sorry...’ was muttered universally across them.

“It was expected, but still, he was at least a good man.”

“And what constitutes a good man under your eyes?” Dymov asked.

“A gentleman, in that he is gentle- kind-hearted, considerate, empathetic...and with decent taste.”

Violins struck up suddenly

“Well, I like this song and if you think that is good taste- you owe me a dance.”

He offered his arm at yours-and biting your lip, holding back a giggle (a giggle! As if you were an adolescent in school!), you accepted.

“Then you are a gentleman, Count Dymov.”

When you linked arms and began to move in circles around each other he blushed and stated “please...it’s Grigor.”

“And I’m Y/F/N.”

“Well, Y/F/N,” he said amidst a quick change of feet, “that is a name not even the prophets would receive from the angels.”

The breath knocked out, you picked up your skirt to step around him and take his arms again, “you speak in mild blasphemy, Grigor.”

In a slight improvisation of some of the dance, he took your waist and lifted you in the air briefly, as a few men did. Your feet soared and everything else in the room blurred for a bit. Even when you landed back on your feet.

“If speaking the truth to a lady of how divine she is, then a trip to hell is worth it,” he said to your ear.

You never expected to feel as light or hypnotized by someone for a long time. You didn’t even know another person could make you feel this way.

None the less, you plan on staying in Russia for a little while longer…

Taglist: @queenlover05 @stardust-killer-queen @panagiasikelia @simonedk @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee @fueled-by-novocaine @xviiarez @vintage-and-hypnotic @raerae27 @a-misplaced-sock

#carrie writes #the great #the great hulu #hulu the great #empress catherine #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov imagine #grigor dymov fluff #grigor dymov hc #grigor dymov hcs #elle fanning #gwilym lee x reader #mariol #gwilym lee #grigor dymov fanfiction #grigor dymov fanfic

72 notes · View notes

k-s-morgan · 4 years

Note

If it’s okay, I wanted to chime in on anon’s complaints about hannigram. The canon/fandom explore dark fantasies without shame and willingly dive into societal taboos like cannibalism, infatuation, obsession, control. It’s an ode to lust, blood, death & destructive love. These fantasies are not uncommon or strange; they’re human. It’s a known and studied phenomenon in many women & men, to mentally ‘play’ with fantasies that they themselves would never commit nor condone in real life. [1/2]

[2/2] An example of this phenomenon is (the poorly named) ‘rape fantasy’. These fantasies are NOT subconscious wishes/desires; psychology has utterly debunked this idea. To quote Psychology Today, “In fantasy, everything is permitted and nothing is wrong. Not everyone accepts this, but as sexual openness increases, so does willingness to daydream about sexual scenarios one would never really want to experience.” TD;LR I am allowed to and will explore fantasies that I want to, hannigram included.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You worded everything so beautifully! I fully agree with you. Having dark fantasies and enjoying them is normal, and it doesn't say anything about a person experiencing them. In most cases, people would absolutely hate the things they imagine.

Rape fantasies is a great example, and I actually have a personal story to share here (WARNING for non-descriptive CSA). I've been having this kind of fantasies since I was 10, and I've been writing stories where I incorporated them (storing them in notebooks for my eyes only). When I was about 15, my very Christian step-aunt came for a visit with her new husband. He was a masseur and he offered me a massage. I agreed, and as he was doing it, I distinctly felt that he was getting more and more inappropriate. But I thought I was imagining things because I just couldn't believe it - the apartment was full of people and he was so religious and all. The next day, we were alone, and he entered my room, sat next to me, started kissing my hair, holding my hand, and telling him stuff like, "You're so beautiful, you look so fragile, just like a child." I realized my first impression was correct. He offered me a massage again and I had to agree because I wasn't sure what I should do yet.

I won't go into details: he started molesting me, but before it went to the point of no return, I managed to talk my way out of the situation. Then I manipulated him into leaving me alone, promising that of course there is nothing wrong with him and I won't tell anyone. Naturally, as soon as he left, I called my mother and grandmother.

My aunt refused to believe me. She said that she secretly read my rape fantasies by going through my notebooks and that since I think and write of this stuff, I must dream of it happening to me for real, so I made everything up. Some of her family members took her side and started asking me if maybe I just imagined it. Fortunately, my parents instilled a very strong sense of self-confidence in me, so I was mostly derisive of their attempts at denial, and I had 100% backing of my immediate family.

Later it turned out that this man already served sentence for pedophilia. My aunt knew it but he told her he was innocent and she believed him. She didn't warn us about it when bringing him into our home. Then it turned out he repeatedly molested my aunt's little granddaughter, and that's when she finally realized I was telling the truth.

So, equating what one likes and enjoys in fiction to what they like in RL is wrong on many levels, no matter how horrifying one’s fantasies are. It's also dangerous because this kind of mindset gives people an excuse for their behavior, which makes no sense when viewed through real examples. For instance, if someone stabs their partner and says, "But Hannibal did it and his partner forgave him, and they have fans who root for them, so why can't I do the same?", it's going to sound crazy, and I doubt even one person would actually blame the show or its fans here.

Fiction is not a justification of anything and it never will be. It's just that, fiction, another way of entertainment, a fairy-tale where nothing happens for real and where everything, including the ugliest things, can be imagined. And that includes romanticized abuse, violence, etc. If someone posts a pic with Hannibal's corpse-Valentine and adds, "Ahh, isn't it romantic?", it's fine. It doesn't mean this person enjoys violence or promotes it, and if someone sees such post and takes it seriously, they have severe problems with distinguishing fiction from reality and need help that goes beyond what the Internet can offer.

#personal

13 notes · View notes

dansiere · 4 years

Text

FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: @handspoken, who kinda hates me? Just kidding I love you okay. TAGGING: @rosiqe, @citialiin, @absolutia, @huntershowl, @blossomingbeelzebug, @foxcharmed, @noirtux, @hiskniight, @ndeavor, @kissafist, @ahsterism (muse of your choice!), @carvedbones, @enshijou & @ettards. -- steal it, honestly. It is a great meme.

01. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell Moons and Junes and ferries wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.

I have probably talked about this song so often already but BOY where do I start? I was watching “Love Actually” & Both Sides Now started playing; it’s the scene where Karen (Emma Thompson) almost breaks down & cries while realizing that her relationship is a farce, that she has been foolish & blind & delusional. It continues with her doing her absolute best to calm herself down, to not collapse but function instead; she pretends she is fine, fearing that she might ruin her family’s Christmas party otherwise. It’s a raw, emotional scene unfolding itself while Joni sings about how she came to realize that everything has two sides; the very thing we dream off, aka we imagine / how we wish things are & the harsh reality. No song could ever express Pearl’s delusion with life & love [but also realizing one’s naivity] better than this one; the aspect of pretending that she is fine in order to not ruin her family’s lives with her agony fits excruciatingly well too. -- in fact, the stanza “I have looked at love from both sides now, from give and take & still somehow it’s love’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know love at all” has been my blog description for months & I won’t change it any time soon. Additionally, this song is about growth & personal change sung with a certain candidness that words can’t really describe -- this song single-handedly inspired me to create this blog, ngl.

02. Dernière Danse - Indila Oh my sweet torment, no point in fighting, you start again. I'm just a worthless being, without [her] I'm troubled. I wander around alone on the subway, a last dance: To forget my great misery. I want to get away, everything to start again.

Number two on my list is a bit of an oddity; it is the song that inspired me to change my URL & bottom header quote. I have always related this song to Pearl basically because it SOUNDS cheerful, has a more upbeat melody & seems positive enough on the outside; however, upon looking at the lyrics & understanding what the artist actually sings about you may or may not get chills. It’s literally a song about losing oneself, misery & the horrid feeling of loneliness after loss all wrapped up in some funky & cheery melody. It seems rather SURREAL at first & upon translating the lyrics you might believe Google is messing with you but... no. The cheery intro fools you, just how Pearl fools everyone in believing that she is a-okay. -- the song grows more & more serious / dramatic with the melody / beat becoming “heavier” over time. While still rather peppy, you can tell that something is wrong the second the background choir kicks in. -- needless to say, I consider the lyrics to be a reference to Pearl’s extreme directionlessness, her lack of purpose, severe lethargy & how she lost herself in her misery.

03. Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey And there's no remedy for memory your face Is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me That everything is fine, but I wish I was dead.

At first, I wanted to use this meme as an excuse to gush on & on about It’s Over, isn't it? but then I remembered that Dark Paradise is a thing. Lana Del Rey simply had to be on here due to her habit of utterly & completely romanticizing tragic romance & death to an almost unhealthy degree. Pearl is guilty of the same issue. -- glorifying things you should absolutely not glorify. Dark Paradise deals with the loss of true love & the trauma that follows; not being able to move on, not being able to let go, blind devotion, stuck in the same grief, the same melancholy, the same subtle craving for death (through drowning). It’s haunting really, but these are topics that not only fit Pearl aesthetically but also motif wise. The largest part of her season 1 - 3 arc dealt with her grief over losing Rose & her inability to overcome her trauma in that regard. Dark Paradise strikes that nerve & expresses that despair rather accurately.

04. Blinding - Florence and the Machine And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack All around the world was waking, I never could go back Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open And finally it seemed that the spell was broken.

I wanted to add a song that might describe Pearl’s mentality more; something from Sleeping At Last, Aurora or Sia maybe, but given how I have been gushing about Florence & the Machine lately, I felt like I had to include them because of their extreme Pearl-esque aesthetic alone. Blinding is massive. It shakes you to the core & drags you along, whenever you want it or not. Its heavy percussion & lyrics, the REALIZATION hit you like a truck; I have always associated this song with the moment Pearl realizes who she is. May it be before the war or after "Now We Are Only Falling Apart". It has a revolutionary feeling to it: she wakes up from her Homeworld induced trance & breaks her conditioning, she wakes up from her lethargy & takes a stand for herself. It works either way, really.

05. The Fantasy - 30 Seconds to Mars Do you live, do you die, do you bleed for the fantasy? In your mind, through your eyes, do you see? It's the fantasy Maybe, tonight we can forget about it all: it could be, just, like heaven. I am a machine: no longer living, just a shell of what I dreamed.

I needed a renegade song; something fast & aggressive; this one had the perfect vibe. The Fantasy it is loud, emotional, gritty & chaotic; it’s fast-paced, it’s desperate. It opposes all Past Pearl is supposed to stand for. It builds up, it swells, grows more & more apoplectic over time. -- “Dying for the fantasy” is another big motif on this blog; in fact, her dream / fantasy controls most of her early life to the point where it becomes an obsession. -- this song embodies the very compulsive drive she had, once. Reaching for a Golden Future that eventually turns out to be “just a shell of what she dreamt”; the fairytale that almost cost her her life in the end.

06. Honourable Mentions songs I need to list somewhere or I will burst.

Running Up that Hill - Kate Bush, Eight & Three - Sleeping At Last, Falling Infinite & Strangelove - Black Math, Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish, Send in the Clowns - Barbra Streisand, Bird Set Free - Sia, God is a Woman (cover) & Infections of a Different Kind - Aurora, Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benata, Beautiful Lie - 30 Seconds to Mars, Love Lockdown (Cover) & Pork Soda - Glass Animals, One Match & Romeo - Until the Ribbon Breaks, Over the Love & Hardest of Hearts - Florence & the Machine, Beautiful Crime - Tamer, Truth Is a Beautiful Thing - London Grammar, Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin, Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys, Far too Young to Die - Panic!At the Disco, Cut the Cord - Shinedown, The War - SYML & Reborn - Talos.

#[[ This took me years istg #I kept changing the songs around like a madwoman because I wanted to pinpoint a specific part of my portrayal?#Does that make sense?#I tried to pick songs I haven't rambled about yet. If I had the time I would fill twenty more meme templates of this kind ngl #hence why I attached the Honourable Mentions section. I just had to. Probably forgot half of my playlist BUT WELL ]]#vii. 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.

10 notes · View notes

askshilohfields · 5 years

Text

Please sit down and let me tell you a story young children.

This story is about a girl named Alice. She was a very cheerful and lively girl. She was very polite and was never mean to anyone. On might even say she was a perfect girl. But Alice was a very delusional girl.

You see boys and girls, she had an amazing imagination. She would make up realities and she would lose herself in them for days and as Alice grew up she became exposed to new things that only expanded her imagination. She read fairy tales and romance novels.

The novels themselves were harmless. They were created, made up, none of it was real.

Alice loved these kinds of stories. She would read about dashing vampires, heroic men, enchanting demons, and serial killers with empathy.

A normal person, with common sense and quite possibly the smallest imagination, would read such stories, enjoy it, and move on with their lives but oh no, not Alice.

Alice, still the young child so full of ignorance and lack of understanding reality, she started to romanticize the things she read.

"Oh, if only a vampire would show up at my window one night and carry me away." She'd sigh one day.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to be stalked by someone who fell in love with you and cares for you so deeply that he'd devote his every waking breath to me and me alone." She'd sigh another.

Now children, as wonderful as vampires and stalkers are in stories they aren't nearly as pleasant in the real world.

If only Alice had learned that.

You see, the now grown up Alice was exiting the building that she worked at after a long day of filing paperwork. She tiredly dragged herself to her car.

As soon as she has slipped into the driver's seat she smelled a strange scent. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact it smelled like cologne.

"How odd." She said to herself has the dismissed it and drove home.

The next day the same thing happened. She left work, headed to her car, she noticed the same smell again. Of course, she decided to dismiss it.

This continued for quite some time but it never alarmed Alice. Not until one day when she opened her car door and noticed that a bag of clothes, that she has been planning to donate to Goodwill, was gone.

"I could've sworn I-" A thought suddenly occured. The strong smell of cologne in her car everyday and now her missing clothes. 'Someone must be very interested in me to do this.' She thinks.

With her girlish fantasies running around in her head she gets in her car and goes about her day.

Things quickly go from not good to worst as things started to disappear, not from her car, but from her house. That didn't bother Alice all that much but she did feel the tiniest bit of unease.

Next she started seeing a man constantly appearing wherever she was. It didn't bother her half as much as it should've. Not until she bumped into him while she was shopping for groceries. She had dropped a few apples and bent down to pick them up.

"Need help with that." A stranger asked. Alice looked up and her blood ran cold. The man who had offered to help was the same one that she had seen follow her.

Alice had once been excited to meet this stalker of hers but as she looked at him she felt afraid. She didn't respond and hurriedly picked up the rest of the apples and walked away from him as fast as she could.

As she left the Wal-Mart she quickly walked to her car. She stopped abruptly when she saw the man standing next to her car.

She immediately took a u-turn and started to go back but by then the stalker had seen her and grabbed her arm.

She screamed loudly attracting attention from other people. The man quickly let go of her arm and for appearances sake he apologized. "Sorry miss. I mistook you for someone else." And then he was gone.

Months had passed since the appearance of this stalker and as that time had flown by Alice became a paranoid woman. She wouldn't leave her house but even then she knew that it wouldn't do much.

The stalker would take things and leave things in her house all the time. He even have her access to all of the cameras he had installed so she could see just how easy it was for him to get into her house and just how often he was.

At this point she knew her life was in danger and she tried calling the police before but the stalker, one step ahead of her, somehow cut off the call then threatened to kill her of she ever tried to call for help again.

And so she died.

The end.

So children, what have we learned today? Stalkers are not nice. They are not wonderful. It is foolish to believe that they might have good intentions. If you realize someone has been following you, stealing your stuff, and watching you almost all the time you need to call 911. This isn't a fictional story were the stalker has feelings and is just a shy, socially awkward person. These are people who are sick and need help.

In a world where everything is highly romanticized and impressionable youth begin to believe that bad people are good, wonderful human beings it is important for them to be slapped with reality before it's too late.

#Yes girls who for some reason love Ted Bundy #I'm looking at you #story time with Shiloh Fields

33 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 6 years

Text

A Cheat III

Summary: Harry and Y/N are drifting, Y/N catches him

Warnings: angst, really mild mentions of sex

Word Count: 4.8k

Part 4

—–

“I’m sleeping in the guest room. I think I need a change of scenery.”

He was about to turn in his heels, suddenly annoyed by her pestering.

“Wait! I think we need to talk,” Y/N stands swiftly, putting her palm against his shoulder to which Harry curves immediately. He retracts with great speed, almost as if her hand was poison. His eyes catch hers with loaded surprise.

Nonetheless, he sighs, saying, “Look, I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow,”

“But Harry, I th-,” She gets cut off by Harry’s booming voice.

“I said we’ll talk tomorrow, Y/N” He said sternly, Harry’s mind flashes to a memory of his actions and makes a decision quickly, “I have someone I want you to meet at work anyway.”

Harry woke up from his deep sleep, yawning and rubbing his left eye with a balled fist. His chest was exposed from the lack of clothing and from the soft glow of the morning light, he could see faded marks littering his skin. The bruises didn’t come from Y/N’s lips, and frankly, he didn’t even think of her once when he was receiving them from somebody else. He has put himself in an ultimatum because he knows that he should feel some form of guilt, regret, remorse or just something that shows that Y/N still owns his heart. But truthfully, he doesn’t and he’s absolutely confused of what he should do. Like Y/N, he’s asking himself questions; should he tell her? Should he admit that his feelings were not like they used to be? Should he casually mention that his heart no longer belongs to her, but instead another person has cradled it as theirs?

As detached as he is from Y/N, he still cares for her regardless if it’s in a different way now. Platonic, you can say. It just wasn’t the same anymore. He once saw a future with her, maybe a kid or two, identical to either of them hobbling around in the shared home they currently lived in. Now, it’s all gone. Something in him stopped producing feelings of love for her, can you really blame him? I mean, if he’s not happy, shouldn’t he leave? Harry stretches his limbs, bones cracking in relief while he groans, rolling over to the side of the bed, trying to sit up as best as he could in his tired state. He cranes his neck, looking around for his basic white shirt that he must’ve strewn off from his body during the night. He maneuvers the thick duvet up and down, but to no such luck. He bends down, maybe it fell on the floor, he thought.

He finds his shirt, grabbing it quickly before goosebumps start to adorn his skin. Harry gasps as a realization makes it way in his foggy brain. What the fuck was that? His eyes widen briefly before he snaps his back again, searching for the mauve panties he swore he just saw. It wasn’t a figment of his imagination because there it is; left untouched and only a remnant of the night he had with her. He chuckles to himself, it has been such a long time since he felt that good. Speaking of her, he fumbles with the items on his nightstand before taking his sleek phone in his hands. He opens the “Messages” app, but before he could type a letter on the bar, a quiet knock sounds through the wood of the door. Harry’s head jolts towards it; fearing he got caught even though he wasn’t really doing anything wrong. Right now, at least. He tosses the underwear under the sheets before clearing his throat and answering the person behind the door, presumably Y/N.

“What?”

Y/N opens the door slightly, peeking her head in through the gap. She gasps at the sight, “Sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t ready yet,” Y/N thinks to herself, why the heck is she apologizing for seeing him bare with boxers on? After all, they’ve seen each other butt naked countless times, it shouldn’t even be a surprise anymore.

“Why would I be ready? I told you I don’t have time for whatever the fuck it is that you planned for us,” Hary grits his teeth, annoyed since he already made plans in his head–5 minutes ago– but still.

Something clicks in Y/N, anger surging through her so suddenly it made her dizzy. She raises her voice a tad, “ I planned something? I recall me saying that we had to talk last night, did you even hear me?” Y/N shakes her head, chuckling sarcastically, “Of course not! When have you ever last listened to me anyway?”

Harry rolls his eyes. He listened, yes. He just didn’t care enough to take it into consideration to maybe comfort her when she needed it.

“Whatever. Just get ready. We’re going to the studio remember, you wanted me to meet someone,” Y/N bites her lip as soon as she spoke the last part of the sentence, growing nervous at who it will be.

—–

Y/N and Harry are in the Range Rover about to be on their way. However, Harry’s too preoccupied with his phone to notice Y/N huffing on the passenger’s side, arms crossed across her chest, feeling a little bit antsy since they’ve been sat down for about five minutes now. And, no matter what position she sat in, the sun somehow still blinded her directly, even with the shade flipped over. She looks over to Harry just in time to see him bite his lip, smiling down at the device he continued to tap on. She reaches over the console, meaning to turn the volume up on the radio because if they’re going to be here for a while, she might as well try to calm her sense. However, Harry must’ve seen her arm from his peripherals, deciding that she’s out to pry his phone from his hands, he jerks back swiftly to prevent her from doing so. She stares up at him alarmed at the sudden action, Khalid caressing her ears with his voice. Y/N stares down at his phone, trying to figure out if it caused him to do such thing to which Harry briskly tries to hide from her sight. Turning it over, he clicks on the lock button, clearing his throat uncomfortably while he shifts in his seat preparing to actually drive.

“Who was it?”

Harry turns his head to do a shoulder check as he pulls the gear shift into drive before stepping on the accelerator to get the car moving. He tries to get his thoughts in order before saying anything. He didn’t want to say spill something accidentally.

“Someone from work, don’t worry about it,”

She nods as if to say that she understands. She doesn’t though because still, her mind started doubting his words. Even after his reassurance, she wasn’t sure what to believe in anymore. Anything that is coming out of his mouth could be lies and she wouldn’t even know if he was telling the truth or not. Y/N doesn’t know him anymore, she concludes. And it hurts her deeply because he’s the man whom she gave everything to, trusted him with her whole heart even when she was fragile because the love she felt was too strong to ignore. Everything she was was all influenced by his constant presence in her life for the past years they were together, and now that he’s slipping away, it was like she was losing a part of herself with him. Every milestone she hit, he was there to support her; he made her feel loved, wanted and adored–something she barely felt especially with her broken family. He made life feel so warm, she didn’t know that a person could be your home. Harry was home.

A tear slips down her chin to her hand limply laying on her lap, catching her attention and realizing that she was getting awfully emotional all of a sudden. She swipes the tears away to her temples, hoping that Harry didn’t notice. Of course, he didn’t.

His eyes were focused on the road, hands gripping the black leather wheel tightly, gnawing on his pink bottom lip. He couldn’t wait to see her today. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about another woman especially because his girlfriend was currently sitting next to him looking awfully sad, but before he could question it, she turns her face to glance at the window the same time the stop light flashes green. For a brief moment, he lets his mind wander.

Imagine how broken she’ll look when you tell her the truth, he thought to himself. So he decides that he won’t. Yes, she definitely deserves to know the truth but, she doesn’t need it right now. Harry also decides that if ever, he’ll let her find out herself.

Except she already did.

And maybe Harry’s too much of a coward to admit the truth to her, but he really couldn’t bring himself to spew the words from his mouth. What was he supposed to say? Truth is, their relationship got to the point where it was so dead– as in nothing was happening to them. Nothing interesting, to say the least. Since Harry’s second album was a top priority for him at the moment, it was absolutely relevant for him to gather inspiration from everything he can to make it more personal and vulnerable like his first one. He used to write songs about his previous relationships where his girlfriends and boyfriends mostly all turned out to be using him for their benefit. It hurt Harry and made him more guarded with who he let in inside his walls.

When he met Y/N, he was extra wary of her intentions just as she was of his. Harry’s heart fluttered whenever he saw her, but something inside him held him back from fully pursuing a relationship with her right off the bat, as he usually would. That was the first burst of inspiration Harry got from her, he wrote songs about feelings of happiness and possibly finding the one; Woman. Then came his courage and he asked her out after months of playing cat and mouse with the woman he so desperately wanted to be his. When she said ‘yes’, he was elated and he wrote more songs about it. The usual.

He’s not blaming her for his lack of inspiration, he’s scowling at the relationship they have. It was going well, too well—very fairy-tale like that he’s sure he has squeezed the last bits of romanticized words and gestures of compassion from his brain and he can’t write about it anymore. His artistic side wanted his album to have something for everybody and an album full of love songs isn’t gonna make the cut in his opinion. He needed that extra spice, the drama, the twinge of rebellion and uniqueness that he couldn’t quite grasp because he hasn’t experienced it lately, and Harry writes from experience. So when the opportunity showcased itself, he immediately took a leap of faith, not thinking about the consequences it’d come with.

—–

It was about four months ago when Harry started being disloyal to Y/N. He’s a bit ashamed to say that the first time wasn’t even an accident, maybe it could be passed off as such, but really, it wasn’t. Harry and Y/N fought about something earlier that afternoon. He was suggesting a week off from their usual responsibilities and driving away to one of the lakeside homes that he had connections to rent. Unfortunately, Y/N’s midterm exams were coming up in about three weeks and she couldn’t waste any time not studying. She paid good money for an education that she’d have to teach herself and she was not going to waste her hard-work now that she’s almost finished.

“Harry, I understand that we need time together, but I have exams coming up soon and I can’t just not study for a whole entire week,” Y/N pleaded, she was trying to make him see things from her pupil perspective.

Harry scoffed, “All you do is study and read. Am I even important to you anymore?”

“You know you are. I’m just saying maybe we can spend time over the weekend instead,”

“I feel like I’m always your second choice. You have time to go on your study sessions with Alan, but you can’t spend any time with me?” Harry asked incredulously, gritting his teeth in boiling anger.

“What? We’re only studying, and I need to study. My education is just as important to me as your music is to you! Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Maybe if he wasn’t blinded by anger he would’ve realized that his words suggested that he didn’t trust her. But not right now, no, he was jealous and desperate to spend time with her that words flew out of his mouth without a second filter.

“You guys are spending an awful lot of time together recently..” His tone changes to one of mockery as if he really didn’t believe that Y/N could never do such a thing to Harry.

“I’m not cheating on you if that’s what you’re implying.” Y/N said dully. Honestly, how could she? She gave her her own heart for a reason.

“Maybe if you prioritized me first, I wouldn’t!”

“I can’t believe you’re acting like this. When you went away to shoot your movie, I was always in the back burner of your mind. I was lucky to even get a text from you because of how busy you were; this continued for months, Harry! Freaking months, and I supported you the whole time because I knew just how important it was to you,” Y/N ranted on about the emotions that she bottled up inside her, she rarely let her own needs become first because to her, Harry was more significant.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, not knowing what to say after being hit by straight facts from his girlfriend. Things that he had no idea she felt. When he realized that he wasn’t going to speak, she continued on.

“When you were working on your album day and night, I was there for you! I brought lunch cause I knew that you’d forget to eat sometimes, and even dinner cause you’d stay up late overworking yourself,” She paused, “And when you had moments where you doubted yourself, saying shit like how you weren’t good enough or whatever you did wasn’t enough, I was by your side comforting when I could’ve been studying abroad for a month,”

“I didn’t ask you to stay,” Harry mumbled.

She blinked at him twice before shaking her head, “I wanted to. You are my number one. It doesn’t matter what happens, I’ll always put you first.”

Normally, Harry would hug her to smithereens and declare his love multiple times in her ear. But Angry Harry would rather debunk and defend himself more.

“I. Didn’t. Ask. You. To. Stay,” His tone punctuated with each word. “I could’ve been fine without you. You could’ve gone through your stupid exchange,”

“N-no you wouldn’t,” Y/N stuttered out, trying to believe her thoughts instead of Harry’s words. “If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have the courage to release your album. If I wasn’t there for you, you wouldn’t have been as confident as you are now,”

“And my ‘stupid exchange’? I worked my ass off for that,”

“Probably kissed arse too many times,” Harry whispered condescendingly to himself.

“Of course I worked hard for that. Opportunities like this just don’t get handed down to you,”

“It could be if you were—”

“If I was what? Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

They stared down each other. His eyes begging her not to make him say it while hers watered over. Harry’s eyes hardened, his mouth opening,

“If you were better”

“Better? If you want something better then why are you even with me?”

“You know wha’? You’re right. I could have any girl in the world, but I chose you.”

Y/N screams in frustration, hammering Harry with light punches to his chest, pushing him with as much force as she could, and he only took a step back.

“Leave. Get out! Find someone else to comfort you when you need it.”

She crashes on her knees, sobbing hard that she could feel the burn in her throat. She only looks up when the door slams shut. Harry left.

—–

Harry was inspired by the possibility of a broken heart. The crashing remnants of a relationship and the absurdity of loneliness, he wrote all that his head spilled out, thinking faster than his hand could write. Eventually, when the argument sunk deep in his bones, he stopped and leaned against the studio couch. Harry rubbed a palm across his face, wondering how he was gonna fix this. He basically suggested that she was a cheater and then belittled her education and abilities to achieve something; it can’t be any worse than that. Well, apparently it can.

As he was brainstorming ideas on how to plead for Y/N’s forgiveness, one of the soundboard technicians walks in. Her name is Irene. It wasn’t that hard to remember her since she was trying to butter up to him countless times. He always said no, though.

“Hey Mr. Styles, rough day?” Her hips swiveling exaggeratedly, obviously trying to catch his eyes. She sits down next to him, so close he could feel the heat of her body radiating off of her.

His phone buzzes in his hand, a message from ‘Y/N.’ He swipes to read the message,

“hey, im gonna go head out to the library for a while. I’ll be home late. Text me if you want me to buy you dinner. Sorry, H”

He smiles lightly, but it eventually fades. Even after he just insulted her, she was still willing to care for him and prioritize his needs instead of coming home earlier.

“Hi, it’s fine, be safe. Im sorry too,” He texts back swiftly.

Irene looks at him expectantly, as if demanding his attention.

“How are you, Mr. Styles,” She questions, leaning in closer.

“I’m grea--,”

*buzz buzz*

“Im going with alan btw”

Harry’s brows furrow in sudden anger. Alan? Him again? His fists clenched, his heart aching, but his body was burning with jealousy. He decides to leave her on ‘read’, locking his phone right away.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, pretty rough actually. What about you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Irene’s eye drop down in a hefty wink. Her manicured hand now glossing over his outer thigh. He shifts.

“That’s uh-that’s great,”

“Problems with the missus, Mr. Styles?”

“I guess you could say that. But erm, Harry’s fine,”

She looks at him oddly, “Why are you talking about yourself in the third person,”

What the fuck? He thinks to himself.

“No, I meant you can call him Harry,”

She nods, “What seems to be the problem here? I can make you forget about her, you know,”

His head clouded and his eyes focused in on her lips, then her exposed cleavage, then to her eyes. The same piercing Y/E/C eyes that Y/N has.

Before he knew it, their lips were molding together. Smacking sounds filled the otherwise empty room. Their tongues lingered together while their hands roamed against the expanse of each others’ bodies. Was he allowed to do this? Of course not. So why was he doing it?

Soon enough she was sliding down his body, unto her knees between his legs. His jeans were pulled off and then he was naked. Her lips surrounding his thick shaft as he groaned in pleasure.

He returned the favour. That was when he wrote ‘Medicine’.

—–

As soon as Y/N and Harry entered the studio room on the sixteenth floor, the hustle and bustle stopped. Sarah stopped drumming her pen against her journal, Adam and Clare paused their conversation, Jeff was fixing something in the booth so he hadn’t noticed them enter. Mitch was just quiet, as usual.

“Y/N!” The band collectively shouted. It has been a while since she’s visited, they missed her very much.

Sarah invited her to sit down on the couch, pushing off her boyfriend to make space for Y/N. Clare and Sarah conversed with her, catching up on things they’d miss. All three girls were to busy with everything going on in their lives to properly talk and gossip with each other. Harry talks business with the guys, assuming since his laptop was opened and their faces looked far too serious to be banter.

A man walks into the room and Harry immediately shuffles to his feet. His head snaps towards Y/N, nodding her to stand up.

“Mr. Smith, this is Y/N. Y/N, Mr. Smith,” He introduces them to each other. Y/N’s heart calms a bit. So this is who he wanted me to meet.

It turns out, Mr. Smith wanted to meet the muse Harry had to write his banging songs recently. Although still in the process of being fine-tuned, he was impressed with Harry’s newfound ability to write seemingly hit after hit. After all, is said and done, Harry was ushered into the sound booth by Jeff to record some potential tracks. Mr. Smith had to leave to pick up his son. One by one, each member of the band took turns playing their instruments while Harry’s voice guided them. During Mitch’s turn, Harry blessed everyone with his angel-like voice.

“How are you and Harry doing?” Clare asks, curiosity laced in her tone.

“I second that question! Haven’t seen you guys together in a while, is everything okay?” Sarah raises her brow as if to say ‘you can tell us anything’

Just as Y/N was about to answer, the door opens again to reveal a woman. Y/N wouldn’t have paid mind to her like everyone else, except that he could hear Harry’s voice strain a little. In concern, she looks up to her boyfriend, finding his eyes focused on the woman who entered recently, captivated as it seems. Her eyes follow his and land on said woman. She does a double-take at her, trying to figure out where she had seen her face before.

“It’s going okay. We’re fine,”

Clare and Sarah share a look with each other, “Y/N, if something’s bothering you, you can tell us.” Y/N smiles at her friends appreciatively.

“H? Can you come with me for a bit? Need you to check in on something at the office,” Irene’s serene voice echoes through the microphone as she leans over to press a button on the control panel to transmit her voice through Harry’s headphones.

He nods instantaneously, disrupting the recording.

“Wha- Harry you can’t just leave in the middle of a recording!” Jeff dictates.

Harry shrugs, “She needs me,” He makes eye contact with her again, a suggestive look in his eyes. Irene bites her lips slowly.

Jeff sighs, waving him off. Instructing him to ‘come back quickly’. Mitch sets his guitar down on the stand. As if remembering that his girlfriend was here, Harry gives a smile to Y/N, which even she finds odd. He’s a lot stern with her these days; doesn’t smile very much.

Harry follows Irene out the door.

Fifteen minutes passed and Harry has still not returned yet. By now conversation has died down and Y/N scrolls through her phone. She receives a message from ‘UNKNOWN’.

“Aren’t you wondering where he is?”

“Attachment 1: Image”

Y/N waits for the photo to load and when it does, a sense of deja vu rushes through her body. A picture of a door was shown. Confused, she shows the picture to Clare and Sarah.

“Do you know where this is?”

They tell her that it’s the bathroom down the hall. Y/N has never walked this fast.

She hastily walks in the corridor, scared of what she’ll find. The door comes to view, her arms reach out to push the door open. And when it did, she swore that her heart dropped to her stomach.

Harry was thrusting into Irene swiftly, groaning at the pleasure he was receiving, both hands gripping her hips while his head buries itself on her neck. Both of their eyes were closed enjoying the intimacy in a public place.

Wait, Y/N thinks. She scrolls through the previous messages, holding up the phone to eye level before finding similarities in the woman on the screen and the woman currently being fucked by her boyfriend. They were the same person.

“Holy fuck,” Y/N says out loud. Apparently, Harry thinks that it was Irene since he replies with, “Yes baby, feels so good,”

“Okay, retry. What the fuck, Harry?”

The couple halts their actions, gasping and screeching once they see Y/N standing by the door holding it open. Y/N realize that the lack of barricade could expose Harry and potentially harm his reputation, so she closes it and immerses herself for what’s yet to come.

Even now, she cared for him.

Harry retrieves his pants up from his ankles, using his flannel to cover Irene’s exposed chest from Y/N’s view. The mirror was still foggy from their actions and her sweaty back.

“Y/N, it’s–”

“Not what it looks like? You have to be more original than that if you’re gonna cheat on me,” Y/N scoffs. Irene distressingly puts her clothes back on, shooting a glare at Y/N for probably ruining her orgasm. Y/N steps aside to let the ‘bitch’ go through, but not before seething at the girl, “Find someone single next,”

Once the door is shut again, Harry tries defending himself.

“She came onto me! I swear it was an accident, it didn’t–”

“Mean anything? Are you stupid? Did you slip and ‘accidentally’ land in her vagina? What the fuck,”

“S-she…”

“You know what? I’m done with you. I’m done being ignored by somebody who never once thought to put me first. After all this time, I thought you were slaughtering yourself with work, overworking yourself when really, you were busy fucking another woman!” Y/N’s eyes gloss over, but she did not dare let a tear slip past her waterline. He doesn’t deserve your tears.

“We were over a long time ago, you know that,” Harry said.

This twists the knife in Y/N’s chest. Over? They were never ‘over’.

“The fuck Styles? Are you high? We never broke up! We’re still, we’re still Y/N and Harry,” She really wishes they weren’t having this conversation in a bathroom, while Harry still had sex hair and no shirt.

He looks at her with intensity, “You should’ve known. We stopped being us a long time ago,”

Her breath hitches then and she quickly makes a decision to go against her values of never giving cheaters or liars a second chance.

“T-that’s not true. We can make this work, I’m willing to forgive you just please…” Y/N pleads.

He looks at her sympathetically, the only emotion he’s currently feeling right now–not guilt, shame or remorse.

“I love her, Y/N. She has my heart now. Not you,” He whispers the last part, almost not believing his words himself. Through years, he’d always thought that he’d spent the rest of his life with Y/N. Nevertheless, he should learn to change his vision of the future–with Irene.

“I guess you really did find someone better, huh?” Y/N wipes a rogue tear but remains strong. She may have considered forgiving him, but now his chances are zero; not like he’d care anyway.

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry. I don’t feel the same anymore,”

“Well good for you! Thanks for breaking my heart and not telling me that we broke up. Asshole, I swear. Hope you made the right choice cause I know I won’t make the mistake of trusting you again,”

Harry rolled his eyes, he just wanted this conversation to be over. Frankly, it was getting a little chilly in the bathroom. “Yeah, sorry,”

Y/N swallowed a lump in her throat, realizing that this was probably the last conversation she’d ever hold with him.

“About my stuff, I’ll be out of your way soon enough. Have fun with your new flavour,”

“That’s what I hoped and gee thanks, have fun with yours too if you ever get over me,” Harry smirk at her menacingly.

She rolls her eyes, burning from the tears she held back. She remains strong.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

—–

Six months later, Y/N graduates university with her best friend and current boyfriend, Alan.

Irene gets a job as a music producer thanks to Harry’s fame, money, and connections.

Harry misses Y/N.

—–

well, that’s that

#harry styles #harrystyles #harry #styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #angst #writing #one direction #cheatin #harry styles cheating #a cheat

2K notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

Review 2 of 2

I know it’s been a month since part one of this review (which you can read HERE), but I had to collect my thoughts on this book! Not because I had mixed feelings about it - it’s honestly one of the best books I’ve ever read - but because it made me so emotional. I did write a review on Goodreads, which I’m posting below, and after that I’ve included several passages that moved me as I read. I marked a LOT of them (sorry, library), so I hope I can narrow them down. Having said that, this will get long, so more under the cut!

Tagging: @snowbellewells @reynoldsreads @whimsicallyenchantedrose @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @thislassishooked @branlovestowrite @tiganasummertree and I thought of you @distant-rose for the way Joy fell in love with England just as much as with Jack :)

****I guess you can say there are technically spoilers beyond this point, but since this is all historical information, many may already know these details. ***

Before I get into that though, I want to clarify a few questions I brought up when I was only half way through the book. I wondered about their letter writing and why those letters were destroyed. Turns out CS Lewis burned all of the letters he received because people wrote to him about very personal things, and he didn’t want those being published after his death. So, that makes sense, I guess, though it still doesn’t explain what happened to the letters he wrote to her, unless he burned those too after her death for the same reason. Jack (what his close friends called Lewis) had a civil marriage with Joy first because of immigration issues, and she and the boys lived in a separate house. However, they still spent a lot of time at the Kilns (Lewis’s home) and lived there briefly at different times. Their relationship, according to most sources, wasn’t physical at that time (however, does anyone really know for sure except for the two of them?), and the book depicts it that way. The church refused to marry them because Joy was divorced, and this was a major issue for Jack due to his faith. Only after a sympathetic priest married them in a hospital did they consummate the marriage.

The major source material for this book was an unpublished manuscript called Courage containing forty-five love sonnets Joy Davidman wrote to CS Lewis. David Gresham, Joy’s son, found them in the back of a closet in 2013. Most of the chapters in the book start with lines from these sonnets. And these sonnets are definitely intimate and passionate. I’ll confess, it’s a little weird when you imagine that famous picture of CS Lewis we’ve all seen a million times, bald headed with his pipe. Like reading sexy poems someone wrote to your grandpa. Nevertheless, the love story crafted in this book was breathtaking.

Here’s the review I wrote on Goodreads:

I almost don't know where to start with this book, it was so good! The writing style, the phrasing, the characterization, it was all stellar. I felt like I knew Joy personally reading this. I also loved how the author didn't romanticize Joy or Jack (C.S. Lewis). She wrote them flaws and all, including their physical traits. This isn't Hollywood, air brushing the protagonists so they fit society's definition of "sexy." This book proves you don't need attractive people to tell a passionate, romantic love story. Love is so much deeper than that. I think that can sum up this entire book: love sees past our flaws; love is attracted to our minds and our souls, not just our faces and bodies; and love blooms best when it's rooted in a strong friendship.

This book also tackled the sexism rampant in the 1950s and how that impacted Joy, who broke the mold on what a woman should be. It makes you realize how the social norms of the day influenced Lewis's friends and their opinions of Joy. (Tolkien despised her.) You also feel Joy's oppression under these expectations and understand why Jack's friendship meant so much to her. He viewed her as an intellectual equal, something she was desperate for. I also was heartbroken over the poor medical care she received simply because she was a woman, with the doctors often completely ignoring her to address the men in her life and making light of her symptoms. Today, she might have lived.

I refuse to read other reviews because I have a feeling many Christians won't like this book. Joy is not a sanitized Christian heroine. She would definitely fit in more with the "bad girls" of the Bible like Rahab and the woman at the well than she would with Sarah or Hannah. She was a real person who came to faith late in life. She made mistakes even after her conversion, and some of them will make the reader uncomfortable. There were a lot of gray areas in her life and in her relationship with Jack that aren't easy to grapple with. So if you're looking for a black and white, squeaky clean, shining beacon of virtue you'll be disappointed. But if you're willing to take the journey with Joy, it's a fantastic tale!

Now for some of my favorite passages! (The book is in first person from Joy’s point of view):

“What could I have done differently? I begged the tortured Christ in stained glass.

My parents had warned me - Why can’t you be softer, nicer, and kinder? Prettier? More like Renee? {Renee was a cousin and one of her husband’s many affairs.} Why couldn’t I? Was this my punishment for such self-will?”

“I stayed and felt the enormous noise vibrate through my body. Chills ran through me, and I shivered with the unceasing sounds, which were cleansing me, coursing through my veins, through my mind and my spirit. The tenor and fifth ringing together, not synchronized or in harmony but in perfect sublime sound. My boundaries dissolved; transcendence enveloped me. God was with me, and always had been. He was in the earth and the wind, in the ringing and the silence, in the pain and in the glory of my life.”

“In his office Jack didn’t just read; he went deep inside the work his eyes fell upon, taking apart the sentences and themes. And while I was nearby, he would often call my name.

‘Joy,’ he’d say, ‘what do you think . . . ‘

Off we’d go into a theological or thematic discussion. Sometimes I feared I would wake and be back in the rambling, falling-apart house in Staatsburg, Bill stumbling drunk down the hallway smelling of sex and whiskey, and find my time with Jack had only been a dream. But instead I sat in the armchair of his office at the top of the staircase discussing the meaning hidden in stories.”

“It’s not an apology, Jack. Can’t you see? It’s grace, the kind that hunts us down and doesn’t let us go. It brought us together. The grace that keeps the planets in their orbits and causes lilies to open their faces to the sun.” I dared to meet his eyes with mine. “It’s love.”

“No.” I took another sip of sherry. “I’m confused . . . . About Jack, I don’t know. This time it’s not just about some physical need. For goodness’ sake, the man smokes sixty cigarettes a day and then his pipe in between. He’s seventeen years older than I am. But he still has this great gusto for life - for beer and debate and walking and deep friendship. Christianity most definitely has not turned him into a dud. This isn’t some lust-fueled fantasy. It’s the connection between us. The discourse. The empathy. The similar paths. This isn’t some obsession with getting something, Belle. It’s the feeling of finally coming home. It’s confusing at best.”

“Red heat filled my chest. He turned to place the sword on the mantle, and the structure of his chin, the lines of his smile, caught the firelight. A line of poetry surged forward in my mind: the accidental beauty of his face.”

“He was instantly next to me, his hands on my shoulders to spin me around to face him. ‘Don’t turn from me,’ he said. ‘I cannot bear that. If we can’t indulge in eros, surely we have all the beauty that remains in philia.’ He pulled me close to wrap his arms around me. Twilight turned to night and my head rested on his shoulder and the palm of his hand was on my neck, stroking my skin with gentleness as if consoling a small child after a frightful storm.

But this wasn’t fright he was trying to subdue; this was desire. His mind might twist firm around logic, but his body divulged the truth.

It was he who let me go, and gently touched my cheek before leaving me quaking without another word.”

“Jack was alongside me every day he came to Oxford from Cambridge, and many whispered that he’d moved in. What vivid imaginations they had.

There had been a night I thought we were on a “date” - when he took me to see Bacchae, the great Greek tragedy. In the dark of the theater he had taken my hand. With our fingers wound together and the great tragic ending of the play approaching, I believed in more for us. But, alas, after leaving that darkened theater our natural rhythms returned - philia, banter, beer, and laughter.”

“At your worst?” He shook his head and his spectacles fell from his face, landed on the worn cream blanket covering my diseased body. “You are beautiful to me, Joy. You are all that is beautiful.” He tucked a stray hair back from my face. “All my life I have thought of love in a literary sense, part of a story or a fairy tale. But love is really true; I know that now. Eros - I haven’t loved completely until now. I know that.” His voice held the truth of every word spoken, a man broken by death’s threat.”

“He kissed me again. ‘Everything I’ve written since the day you walked into Eastgate has been tangled with you. How could I have not seen it at all?’”

“Will you go to them?” I took his hand in mine. “They need you, and they love you, Jack. You know that, don’t you?’

‘As I love them.’ He kissed me and left as a father to my sons.

“All the years wasted believing that love meant owning or possessing, and now the greatest love had arrived in my greatest weakness. In my supreme defeat came my grandest victory. God’s paradoxes had no end.”

“I didn’t know if others understood his deep love for me. I’d wondered and then let it go - it didn’t matter what Tollers {Jack’s nickname for Tolkien} or the Inklings or the Sayers believed. Maybe Jack had admitted his love or maybe he hadn’t, but all that mattered was that I grasped the truth. He loved me when I was brash. He loved me in my weakest state. He loved me after I stopped trying so hard to make him love me. He loved me when I was outwardly unworthy. I thought of Aslan and his words in Prince Caspian, ‘You doubt your value. Don’t run from who you are.’”

“His brown eyes seemed fathomless, their depths holding the answers. ‘Although it was your mind I loved at first, it is not what I’ve loved best. The heart of you is the heart of me now, and I want to know it fully.’”

#melanie reads #book review #becoming mrs lewis #patti callahan #review 2 of 2

6 notes · View notes

rowleing · 4 years

Text

about.

FULL NAME:

Rowle, Sebastian — his parents always appreciated concision, which is a mindset he always tries to put into writing

FACE CLAIM:

Timothée Chalamet

AGE:

23 years old

GENDER & PRONOUNS:

He would certainly like to be vague about such details, not only to be interesting, but to avoid such harsh sentences, but he dances to whatever tune the society is humming, out of inertia. The norm goes — it doesn’t concern him anyway. It’s a shrugged he/him/his.

SECOND PREFERENCE:

Rita Skeeter, maybe? Though I’d really like to write an application if it comes to rejection, because otherwise I wouldn’t get to know the character before playing them.

OCCUPATION:

Unemployed; when he doesn’t write, he pretends to listen to the many people he insists to surround himself with. Money doesn’t represent an issue for his family, therefore he wouldn’t want to waste any time doing some half-hearted internship, pretending to care about becoming a journalist only because the job uses words too. It isn’t a sign of slacking off, rather than concealing energy for the pleasant and the necessary, which, for him, is (despite the term being scoffed at) art.

SEXUALITY:

He loves love. Cliches are only cliches when half-hearted, insincere and shallow. When the depth beats the popularity of a concept, it’s a classic. So it would be unnatural to write without loving love. He falls in love obsessively with concepts. History pages don’t speak about a young, beautiful, romanticized Tom Riddle, but his imagination made him up almost entirely from scratch. He seeks authenticity, tragedy, maybe even the syrup no one else can stand. An idealist’s sighs meet a rationalist’s stubborn mind, and everyone who is poetry enough steals his heart for at least a second. He pretends to fall in love because of these glimpses of beautiful sincerity in certain people. He pretends it so genuinely that it becomes true. Like a Romeo to a thousands of Juliets a day, albeit gluing his soles to the ground enough not to go insane.

AMORTENTIA:

It would firstly and most importantly be the freshly cut grass — the first sensation he could feel deeply in his lungs, the chlorine of a deep blue, endless swimming pool where he wastes his time in the best ways during summertime and the way a random room would smell when his mother painted indoors. It would change too often, adding certain perfumes, certain ways a book can smell in, but these three remain as key stimuli that make him fall in love, firstly and lastly, with life.

BOGGART:

He refuses to see one. From the shielded, privileged, cozy position he is in, it looks like he doesn’t need to ever face fear. Back in the third year, an old, ugly woman — almost the fairy tale archetype — threatened him, teeth rotten and nose crooked. Today, it would perhaps turn into something less ugly, and more dangerous, like a very close to him snake with the eyes of his father.

CURRENT POLITICAL POSITION:

There is no secret to the fact that the name Rowle still echoes like a mistake in the Wizarding World. The Azkaban that holds his father captive is a reminder that broken reputations don’t heal overnight. Yet, they’re not pariahs because Mrs. Rowle knows the art of charm like she knows her maiden name — more and more relevant every day. She likes society, a solar figure that smiles just like her son, and she never stopped inviting everyone she liked to tea. Meaningless connections she didn’t bother to keep once her husband became a stain unlike paint. But the few figures she was intrigued by, she insisted on keeping close. At first a handful of people, in ‘98. Today, an entire sitting room filled with open minds looking at this woman past a questionable reputation.

Still, Sebastian doesn’t fear the label hanging over his head like a sword. He doesn’t try to prove anyone how kind-hearted he is, how much he believes in equality and how much he hates his father. If anything, he is unsure of his feelings towards the man, but never resentful. He doesn’t mean to follow his footsteps; it’s just that someone talked about redemption and nothing sounded more beautiful. He follows out of poetic curiousness. Tomorrow, he could change sides if someone held a good enough aesthetic argument. His personal beliefs don’t rely on morality. In fact, nothing but art should ever rely on morality, according to him.

REASON FOR REDEMPTION:

Listen, he might want to have something to have to seek redemption for. It’s a noble purpose, makes for good literature and never stopped being a deep and relevant subject. Yet, he might be too capricious to ever see a fault in his own actions. On a surface level, he wants to feel that cathartic regret, that desperation to get better, but, deep down, it’s impossible for his brain to process that he might have ever done something even remotely wrong.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: (+,-)

( - ) Capricious, easily bored, moody, in need of constant change, Sebastian remains the spoiled boy from a good family, blinded by the shiny light of gold and unable to understand there are worse sights to gaze at. He can’t function in any other way, and he doesn’t want to, because he thinks there is no greater value in the world than his time. He has none of it to waste, already running against the countdown, so he becomes careless about what stops interesting him even for a minute.

( - ) When it comes to justice, he is blinded by how boring he thinks it must be to think morally. It isn’t that he is malicious, rather than lacking a filter when it comes to compassion. He has it — any person with the slightest perspective on art has compassion — but it’s isolated in fiction most of the times. When people manage to bring it out in reality, he pretends it’s yet another good book and relies on loving those people for a little bit. But he doesn’t know sorrow himself, so he doesn’t know how to separate the good from the bad. It all comes down to artistically relevant and uninteresting.

( - ) As deep as he becomes in the ways he is authentic in, he has a certain air of shallowness which could ultimately make him despise himself — aesthetically, of course. He is too vain to see fault in his own mindset, even though he doesn’t hold back when admitting to be wrong (never really believing that one). He appears to be open-minded (and there are ways in which he certainly is), but what appears is debatable when it comes to his name.

( + ) Blunt, without a censor, he genuinely thinks there is no one more sincere than him. He expresses opinions, words, moods with ease and Apollonian inner power. In certain ways, Sebastian even glows, out of this confidence that a good childhood inspired in him. He is half as genuine as he believes himself to be, which is still a virtue.

( + ) Imaginative, naturally gifted, the epitome of Romanticism ages later, Sebastian may struggle with authenticity (despite not wanting to), but he never struggles with words. It’s his first nature. Eloquence, grace, honesty all mix into the letters he pronounces, either on paper or out loud. He has the gift of thinking beautifully, even when he is utterly wrong — and perhaps that’s what everything is about.

( + ) Every bit of his personally naturally equals in charm — but it isn’t quite the schoolboy heartthrob magnetism, rather than the same effect of a prettily finished painting. He becomes inspiring, he provokes reactions in people, he always comes up with a new perspective, which is more often than not, fresh and interesting.

HEADCANONS:

I think I sprinkled plenty of details in the other sections of the application, but the best would be to elaborate, in case I wasn’t very clear.

His father, Throfinn Rowle, went to Azkaban following the Second Wizarding War. His father had rough edges, but never so sharp that Sebastian got cut in them. His father loved him, believed that he was doing the best for his family and for helping conserve the traditions of purity which are the very identity of his family, in his opinion. Sebastian doesn’t insist on talking too nicely about his father — in fact, he doesn’t speak at all about him. It’s not shame, it’s not censor, rather than an inner feeling of not needing to elaborate the rose light in which he still sees his own father. If addressed properly, he wouldn’t have any problems elaborating that out loud. He’s a pretty free-spirited, open-minded person.

His mother, Germaine Rowle, comes from a pureblooded family as well, yet her education exceeds purist norms. She studied muggle art and passed on the affinity for it to her only son as well. She is a painter and an odd creature overall. She brought color to her son’s childhood always inventing bedtime stories that would end unconventionally, yet beautifully.

He doesn’t smoke, as smoking would be the most obvious thing expected from a nature like his own. He defeats stereotypes, hating the fact that he is aware of it, therefore turning the process into a conscious, annoying vice. He speaks fluent French and hates every comma of it, although it did help, studying at Beauxbatons and having access to the paradox that is the French culture. He only drinks light drinks, like champagne or whatever is bubbly and pleasantly colored. He adopted his mother’s habit of hosting events, enjoying nothing more than a good party. He writes best in daylight, especially outside. He likes pets, but keeps losing them because he cannot really take care of them for longer than a couple of months. His mother can’t either. They’re somewhat absent-minded and would be lost if it weren’t for the two house elves keeping the manor clean and taken care of. He published a volume of poetry, “The language of peaches” and a novel, “Magenta”, out of which the latter made an impact.

#my application if you would like to browse through it:)#;some see a pen. i see a harpoon (about)#;i’m spitting up poetry as water gathers in my hollowed out ribcage (biography)

1 note · View note

nancywheelxr · 6 years

Note

Karadox soulmates AU, the first-words-they-tell-you-tattooed-on-your-skin version. And Kara always romanticized the "It's you...!" under her ribcage but Brainy was absolutely despaired by the "Can I help you on his spine" And then they meet.

Kara Zor-El loves the idea of Soulmates.

As a child, she traces the ink under her ribcage with endless fascination, memorizing the curls and dots in that strange language. Somewhere in the terrible vastness of the Universe, there is a person she is destined to meet and this love of theirs would cross galaxies to be.

Instead of frightening, Kara only finds it tragically romantic.

Even if her mother frowns worriedly at the alien symbols and her father purses his lips at the sight of her tattoo, even then, she smiles, warm and giddy with the barely contained excitement of the knowledge that any moment could be it.

Querl Dox is partial to the whole thing.

As a child, he never sees his mother and he never knows his father, and between the Kryptonian robots looking after him, silly things like love and Soulmates and Fate are brushed off to the side as fairy tales.

But his tattoo is still there, curled around his spine, and sometimes, Querl stands with his back to the mirror and tries to see the neatly flowery symbols. He doesn’t know what it means yet, but he thinks whoever they are, his soulmate has very pretty handwriting.

Then, the end of the world.

At least, the end of Krypton, but for Kara, crying alone in a pod bound halfway across the Universe with a mission so impossible to imagine in her teenage years, it might as well be the end of everything she knows.

She is alone and the Universe is terribly dark and terribly lonely, but Kara hasn’t met her Soulmate yet, so this has to mean she makes it out of this silent nothingness. She just has to hold on a little longer.

And now her tattoo makes a bit more sense. Kara had thought she would grow up to explore the stars, meet her Soulmate somewhere in her travels, and they would immediately recognize her across the room. It’s you, they would say with joyful disbelief, and the curtains would fall and the credits would roll– and they lived happily ever after.

But she knows better now. Her tattoo is in English because her pod is Earth-bound. Her tattoo is in English because there’s no Krypton anymore and no one to speak Kryptonian. Not even Kal, who is too small to remember anything at all.

Still, her Soulmate is there, waiting for her, and Kara won’t have to be alone again.

Just a little bit longer, she thinks, and falls asleep.

As a teenager, Querl cares enough about his tattoo to know how impossibly difficult it is.

Can I help you? it reads in English, and that’s such a common phrase, he heard it a million times by now. His hopes grow for a second, but the other person never lights up along.

Just another stranger in the crowd.

The years pass, and he joins the Legion and that’s something so much greater than old fairy tales, Querl tells himself he doesn’t mind if he never quite finds his Soulmate. He’s saving the world every day and that is enough.

Then, of course, the Blight happens and slipping under cryosleep is exactly like falling asleep.

Kara Danvers loves love and she hasn’t lost hope yet.

It’s just that, between Catco and Supergirl, there’s not much time to look for her Soulmate, but she knows somewhere on this planet, they’re waiting for her. There is just so much to do all the time and now with Reign–

She wakes up in her apartment.

Everything looks ordinarily in place, but something nags at the back of her mind, but Kara ignores it, focusing on the urgent knock on her door. There’s another alien on the other side, and oh my god, what if her neighbors see him?

He turns, eyes going adorably wide, “it’s you,” he says, in awe.

“Can I help you?” Supergirl asks, before her hand flies to her mouth.

The world stops spinning for what feels like a lifetime, and the tattoo glow golden for about just as long, but after time-travel and the end of the world, they finally find each other.

#look an ask #kara danvers #querl dox #brainiac 5 #brainy #karadox #karadox tag

25 notes · View notes

sehyas · 5 years

Text

REPOST & 13 TAG. TAGGED BY. @oasisbow. TAGGING. i’ve been gone for too long idk who can do this a;dfkasf feel free if you haven’t yet!

name. sehya veqhici. nicknames. sehy. the pink woman. gender. female.

romantic orientation. biromantic. sexual orientation. bisexual.

preferred pet names. sehya is the type to use nicknames. ‘handsome,’ ‘kitten,’ and things like babe, honey, sweetie -- all of those things are within the realm of things she’d use. it’s so common, though, that often it’s when she uses someone’s name directly that you can tell that she’s being very serious or cares deeply for them.

relationship status. she’s single in all of my verses you’ll find on here, with certain unrequited longings in my WoL verse for certain npcs.

opinion on true love. coming from being raised for the majority of her life in a brothel, true love was something that sehya was sure didn’t really exist. people used ‘love’ as a means to get what they wanted, and she had learned the art of using it as a weapon for her own gains as well. there are not too many that have truly made her heart yearn for too much more, but it’s because she has many walls up to protect herself from her distrust she has toward others. in her WoL verse, tho, she loves hard and it hurts!!

opinion on love at first sight. sehya doesn’t believe in it one bit for her own personal gains, but she knows how to use that idea to get what she wants.

how ‘romantic’ are they ? in truth, sehya can be an extremely romantic person. while able to use it as a facade, if there’s someone she does truly care for, she’d be all in on sweeping gestures of love and anything of the sort.

ideal physical traits. really, sehya can appreciate whatever works best for a person. though, she often prefers a person, rather man or woman, who is larger than her in stature. broad shoulders and a strong back really catch her attention.

ideal personality traits. as a person who often is weaving many webs of lies, she often finds herself attracted to people who are incredibly honest and rather straightforward. she has a strong personality herself, and is usually looking for someone who can combat that and keep things interesting.

not ideal physical traits. aside from obvious garrish features, there isn’t really anything that sehya can’t ultimately find herself finding attractive on another person. so long as they don’t look too childish.

unattractive personality traits. she doesn’t find people that are too weak-minded attractive in the least bit. if someone is constantly meek or too negative (for example, always speaking about themselves negatively or in a ‘not that anyone would care, but....’ manner) she likely will ruin their day because she can’t put up with that sort of attitude.

ideal date. sehya doesn’t have an ideal date because she likes a variety. she’s seen so many things in her ventures as a courtesan that most dinner dates and such are boring to her. she wants to see what someone can do to keep things interesting. typically dates surrounding something deeply personal to that person mean more to her than most basic ones do.

do they have a type ? she doesn’t really have a type because she can find things that she likes and finds attractive about many different types of people.

average relationship length. any relationship she’s had has been short, but not without the lack of trying.

commitment level. if it if someone that she doesn’t see herself becoming much more with, the level of commitment isn’t really there. she’ll have other flings in the process, too, or at the very least keep working. otherwise she can be fiercely loyal when she deems that she cares a lot about a person.

opinion of public affection. she is the queen of pda.

#✧ | of this heart & mind ( about sehya )#✧ | meme #eeee this was fun!#i haven't gotten to do something like this for sehya in a long time!!#\o/

2 notes · View notes

echelonlab-blog · 7 years

Text

Reigning Madness – Chapter 75

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Fiction.

Warnings: Smut

Tagging: @hazeleyedleto @msroxyblog @letojokerownsme @miss-shannanigans @snewsome756 @maliciousalishious @nikkitasevoli@meghan12151977 @mindlessselfindulgence88 @sanellv@ambolton@jayded-reality @bradlea23@spillinginkwithlove@alexis7215@dezmarz@pezziecoyote@whoistheprettiest@avaj99@iridescxntsolitude@pheenixpeterson@guccilowell@blondiefrommars @rowen1976

Caroline’s POV:

When we got to the hotel Emma met us in the lobby and quickly ushered Sasha and me off to our suite where she had everything set up to get the two brides ready. The dresses she had assembled were breathtaking, far more formal and extravagant than I had pictured but Sasha and I were both able to find pieces we were happy with. There was a woman there to do our hair and makeup and by the time we were ready it was beginning to feel like a fairy tale. I couldn't stop dabbing at my eyes. How on earth had I gotten so lucky, to fall so deeply in love with someone that had been right under my nose all these years?

My dad and Sasha's brother Rob showed up to usher us downstairs when we were ready. They were in matching tuxes and looked so handsome. My father gave me a big hug and told me how proud he was of me, what an amazing woman I had grown into, and we both had a short cry as we stood outsisde the doors of the small ballroom that had been reserved for us. We heard music starting inside and then the doors parted and I let out an audible gasp. The small room was awash in white bunting, fairy lights and garland and our families were gathered around in a big circle with Jason and Jared and the officiant in the center. Suddenly my heart was in my throat and the only thing I could see was Jared, standing there in a white tuxedo, as dumbstruck with me as I was with him. He mouthed a “Wow” as I stepped in front of him I could feel my eyes moistening again. I hoped that makeup artist had used good mascara or I was going to be a mess.

I couldn't tell you a word of what was said during the ceremony. Someone handed me a wedding band, and nudged me when it was time to say “I do,” but for those few minutes, my whole world existed in Jared's eyes. He had started off as a friend, driven me to blind fury and, in the end, captured my heart completely. Being with him felt as natural as breathing, and I couldn't even begin to imagine being without him now that we had found out how good we were together.

Once the ceremony concluded we all hugged and laughed and posed for endless pictures as things were rearranged and dinner was brought in. Everyone seemed to be having a great time and got along very well and as I looked around our table my heart warmed with the realization that this was my family now. My father kept clapping Jared on the back and our mothers cried and laughed and reminisced. I had to pull Shannon off my sister three times, every time he'd get a little drunker he'd forget he had been told not to touch and finally Rob dragged hi+m out into the hallway and had a “chat” with him and that was the end of it. I thin+k Christina enjoyed the attention, even if she was making eyes at Rob most of +the time. She'd nursed a crush on him since middle school and when he ca+me to her rescue it didn't exactly dampen the flame. As soon as the dancing s+tarted Jared took advantage of the commotion to slip us into the hallway.+

“Jared, th+ey're going to notice we're gone,” I protested as he cupped my cheek in his han+d.

“Shhh,” he said as he brushed his mouth against mine. “It's our wedding night. They expect us to disappear.”

“They expect us to leave, not sneak off without even saying goodnight.”

“You want to go back in there?” he asked, making another pass against my lips. I groaned. Of course, he knew once he started kissing me I would melt like I always did. Still, my father was just on the other side of those doors...

“At least let me tell my parents good night,” I suggested. Jared sighed but held the door open for me.

Thankfully they didn't keep us with long goodbyes and in minutes we were resuming our getaway, wrapped around each other in the elevator while the floors dinged past. I was so worried someone would join us in the tiny space and recognize Jared, blowing our chance at an incognito weekend but we remained uninterrupted and before I knew it Jared was jamming his key card into the slot and carrying me through the door into the honeymoon suite.

“Oh, Jared,” I gasped once I had tumbled loose from his grasp. The room was palatial, much like that first suite we had shared on tour, the one that had captivated me the minute we set foot in it. There were enormous floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the city below and it twinkled back at us in all its glory. From this far away it lost that gaudy glare that I had always associated with Las Vegas and softened into something warmer and more magical, like Christmas lights during an early snow. I stood in the middle of the room taking it all in as Jared stepped up behind me, his hand at the small of my back.

“I'm glad you like it,” he said as he nibbled at the curve of my neck. “Only the best for Mrs. Leto.”

I turned in his embrace and clasped my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mr. Leto. Not just for the room, but for everything. It was perfect.”

Jared just smiled and kissed me again, drawing my lip softly between his while he cradled my face in his hands. I thought briefly it would have been nice to have the photographer up here, just for a moment, to capture us still in our wedding finery in front of those beautiful windows, but then Jared's hands were traveling down my back and I realized I needed to get out of that gown now, before lust clouded my head and something happened to ruin it.

I thought it had taken forever to get into it but it seemed like it took an eternity and a half to undo all the little pearl buttons down the back and step out of yards of silver embroidered lace and crinoline. I carefully laid It over the back of the sofa and Jared quickly shed the fussier bits of his tux and placed them alongside my gown. Without a word he scooped me up again, carrying me out of the living area and into the bedroom, lying me across the bed with a sigh.

He first removed his shirt then settled himself over me, nestling himself between my legs and smoothing my hair from my face. My stomach fluttered and suddenly I felt like a shy teenager again, being touched for the first time. I had never had a romanticized notion of marriage, I hadn't been one of those girls that collected bridal magazines and fantasized about walking down the aisle into domestic bliss. I was a bit more matter of fact than that, so it surprised me now how differently I felt knowing that this man who's mouth was currently nibbling its way across my collarbone was my husband. This brilliant, funny, kind, charming, gorgeous man had stood up with me in front of our families and friends and pledged to make a life with me, to stand by my side and weather whatever comes, and I loved him impossibly for it.

“I love you,” I whispered as his mouth drifted lower, his fingers hooking in the lace of my bra and pulling it aside so his teeth could graze against my nipple. My stomach knotted with lust at the sensation and I let out a deep moan and arched my back. “I hope you know how completely, totally, hopelessly in love with you I am, Mr. Leto,” I purred as I knotted my fingers into his hair, pulling it loose from the slicked back attempt at normality he made today, pomegranate tips spilling across my skin.

“I love you more,” he said, coming back to my mouth, his tongue pressing forward to find my own before pulling away with a sigh. “You are the most miraculous thing that has ever happened to me, Mrs. Leto.”

Our fingers found their way through buttons and clasps, peeling away the last of our clothing until we were pressed together, flesh to flesh, Jared's hands at the small of my back pulling me against him, my legs locked together behind him. Our mouths explored each others as he circled his hips slowly, his hard shaft sliding through my slick folds, rubbing across my clit and driving me insane with need. “Jared, please,” I whimpered, raising my hips up until I was coming off the bed. “

Jared lifted himself enough to reach between us and guide his rigid length into my waiting depths before stretching against me again, one hand coming up to tangle with my own, the other cupping my breast. His forehead fell against mine as he slowly pushed forward, filling me completely before he withdrew with a shudder, his breath measured in time with his thrusts. It was a perfect union of our bodies and I breathed him in as my flesh pebbled and my muscles began to quake. I knew we had a lifetime to make our bed together now, and there were so many sinful, base, delicious things I wanted to do with this man, but for now, I needed this, I needed to connect with him, and he needed that too.

We allowed time for everything to build slowly, our bodies lost in that overall caress, but eventually there was no holding back the dam and I shattered around him, my body gripping his even more tightly as I cried out his name over and over. He followed me over the edge at almost the same moment, swelling and emptying himself inside me with a groan, professing his love for me again as he breathed raggedly against my throat.

After everything said in the heat of passion, we were content to lie together quietly afterward, our hands twined together across his chest, rings catching the soft light coming in from the next room. It had been a long journey to this moment, and a long day to celebrate that journey and the one to come, and I slipped off to sleep, to dream of the magic of the mundane, morning coffee, and rainy Sundays, washing dishes and sorting laundry, holiday dinners and late night refrigerator raids, all permanently changed by virtue of being shared with the man beside me.

#jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #30STM #Reigning Madness

52 notes · View notes

letsladynightmare · 4 years

Note

Her post in on #Eldarya and her blog is cintanna-rants. And yes you actually judged people when you said stuff like "They live in a bubble of fairy tales" about people who like Lance

Alright, I read the post. And I have a few observations to make.

"I'm going to be direct. Please don't treat grown women like they're susceptible children, this game is clearly for young-adult women and some of us like this type of content."

I don't think it's clear enough yet, so I'm going to repeat it again: you definitely DON'T need to be a "susceptible child" to end up thinking that toxic relationships and toxic men represent love. Especially because most people who end up stuck in this type of relationship are ADULTS. And Eldarya can help spread that kind of thing.

There are people playing Eldarya, and several other otome games, who have never dated in their entire lifes until now. Or they've never had an abusive relationship and they don't know what it's like. And they are adults. So, imagine an inexperienced person, or one who has never had a toxic relationship and has no guidance on that, playing Lance's route and seeing countless girls idolizing him? This, of course, can have some influence on her.

And I say this because for many years I have read fanfics and books that treat this type of relationship as something extremely normal and without problems, leading their readers to say things like: "Ah, I really wanted a relationship like this" and to die of love by a toxic boy.

And women are not stupid. True. But we need to remember that not all have the same psychological. It is not because you and your friends know the difference between a game and real life, between a toxic relationship and a healthy one, that all other players also know and have a psychological as strong as yours.

Another point: No one is stopping you from liking him, or from simply liking anything you want, as she said in the post. What I and other people did was to point out the negative points of having a guy like Lance as a boyfriend. He is clearly a bad person, out of control, cruel, cold, murderous, etc. So, that's why I really don't understand why anyone would want a guy like that as a boyfriend.

A woman (or man) who has spent her entire life reading fanfics, or books, playing games like Eldarya, watching people idolize an abusive guy, can may end up dating toxic guys in real life. Because this is the thought that she/he will have: that all that she/he has read and played is love. Because there are several stories out there that romanticize this kind of thing and make readers/players believe that their love is capable of completely transforming a person.

I say this because I have a very close friend who has been through this kind of thing. She was completely in love with a character from a TV series that she liked and that character was extremely abusive. A year later she started going out with a guy who was very similar to this character that she liked in terms of physical appearance, which is exactly why she agreed to go out with him. And later on we ended up discovering that their personalities were also very similar. And that was how she ended up stuck in an abusive relationship for 2 years.

I also felt that in the post she tried to make people who don't want a route with Lance feel guilty for not wanting to and for showing the negative points of it? I know that may not have been her intention, but I felt like it was while I read. By the way she wrote, making it look like we're dictating what they may or may not like. When this is not true.

I'm sorry if I'm talking nonsense, but that's what I felt.

And just as her boyfriend supports the fact that she wants a route with Lance, my boyfriend also agrees with me about why a route with Lance would be bad. We talked and he pointed out many reasons why this would be a problem (and I used some of them in my post) and I totally trust him because before dating me, he had been dating a controlling and abusive girl for 1 year. So, I think he knows very well how it is.

And she made a comparison with Rapunzel. That is a fairy tale. Now do you understand why I said that about "Fairy Tails"? I apologize if I have offended someone, but this is really the impression I have due to the fact that I have read that some players believe that Lance's redemption could be to love Erika and that her love will transform him.

"But back to the topic, what about this game, Eldarya? If you don't like a route, don't play it, choose someone else. No one is forcing you to romance Lance, you have the option to spit on his face, insult him, bite him and try to push him off the cliff if you want to."

Yes, we happily have that option. But it's like I said in another ask: It's also about how other players who have been through this kind of situation will feel when they see other players idolizing and yearning for a guy who appears to be toxic. They will feel like a joke. I think it lacks a little empathy.

"Just don't play it."

If they like Eldarya, that will not be a valid argument.

And I would like to say one last thing before finishing. I know this answer is already getting too long, so:

What I meant is that I would not like there to be a route with Lance where he is romanticized. Where everything he has ever done and his behavior is simply overlooked and treated as normal. Where Erika does not impose herself against him. Because I think it's terrible giving fame and morals to this kind of thing that is super wrong.

If there is a route with Lance and it is taken seriously, where he has some redemption, where he pays for his crimes and Erika becomes a strong and powerful protagonist, I don't see any problems. It is.

This subject is really getting tiring. I hope I have made my point of view clear. I don't think we'll ever agree on that, so we just have to wait for Beemoov's next steps.

#ask #anonymous #eldarya #lance #lance route #beemoov

0 notes