( longing, treading. )

the petals drop, the ROSES dance.

[rouxgrace-blog]

owo? whats this?

your WIFE who is eagerly awaiting your RETURN from the DEAD to KISS HER!!!!! 

[rouxgrace-blog]

❛ I am not the girl I used to be. I am no longer desirable, I’m off-putting in some way. It’s as if people can see the damage written all over me, can see it in my face, the way I hold myself, the way I move. ❜

the girl on the train / a. / @silverveined​

     the scent of autumn crocuses drift past her. her girlhood remembers it well. it was the scent of open courtyards with fountains sculpted from alabaster, gardens which truly introduced the beauty of color among flowers—roses, petunias, amaryllis, crocuses, there were too many to name, too many to love. the children flocked to the courtyard when their fathers were too busy sitting in council to mind them, and the maids, bless their old soul, would always watch on the marble benches placed between shrubs.

     once, as the maids watched in horror, fiora pricked herself on a thorny shrub. playfully sparring with a boy, she backed herself into the thick foliage, her limbs caught on twigs and vines, bare skin bleeding with various cuts. before the maids could do anything, a girl whose face she could not remember, but whose hands were as warm as the sunlit autumn, pulled her up from her embarrassment. she smelled the crocuses, then, in the gardens of House Vayne.

     shauna’s home has not changed, however much they may choose to gossip. fiora hears shauna speak, but she does not reply yet, her hand running through the leaves, lifting the flowers and watching them rest daintily on her fingers. 

     ❝ tell me, lady vayne, how are your hands now? ❞ she finally says. ❝ are they still pale and unblemished? perhaps a little bit rougher, large and grown now? ❞ the thorns brush against the satin fabric of her gloves but do little to scratch her. ❝ or are they scarred across the skin, all jagged lines with unspeakable tales? ❞

     fiora plucks a flower, turning around to face shauna with the flower sitting between her fingers.

     ❝ perhaps, you are no longer desirable, but instead something to be feared in their eyes. something dangerous. powerful, ❞ fiora says, as she walks towards shauna and, lifting shauna’s hand in hers, places the crocus in her palm. ❝ and i find, my lady vayne, that is something much more breathtaking than beauty. ❞ 

[heireating]

  BOOK STARTERS VOL.25     ( THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN )    ( PAULA HAWKINS )   ( TRIGGERING THEMES )

❛ The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps. ❜

❛ I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts. ❜

❛ There’s something comforting about the sight of strangers safe at home. ❜

❛ I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head. ❜

❛ It’s possible to miss what you’ve never had, to even mourn for it. ❜

❛ There’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion. ❜

❛ When did you become so weak? ❜

❛ I don’t know where that strength went, I don’t remember losing it. I think that over time it got chipped away, bit by bit, by life, by the living of it. ❜

❛ Let’s be honest: women are still only really valued for two things—their looks and their role as mothers. ❜

❛ Sadness gets boring after a while, for the sad person and for everyone around them. ❜

❛ I’m playing at real life instead of actually living it. ❜

❛ I’ve just got to let myself feel the pain, because if I don’t, if I keep numbing it, it’ll never really go away. ❜

❛ I am not the girl I used to be. I am no longer desirable, I’m off-putting in some way. It’s as if people can see the damage written all over me, can see it in my face, the way I hold myself, the way I move. ❜

❛ Who was it that said following your heart is a good thing? It is pure egotism, a selfishness to conquer all. ❜

❛ It’s impossible to resist the kindness of strangers. ❜

❛ Sometimes I catch myself trying to remember the last time I had meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitches. ❜

❛ I have to find a way of making myself happy, I have to stop looking for happiness elsewhere. ❜

❛ How did I find myself here? I wonder where it started, my decline; I wonder at what point I could have halted it. Where did I take the wrong turn? ❜

❛ Now look – Now look what you made me do. ❜

❛ It’s okay, whatever you did, whatever you’ve done: you suffered, you hurt, you deserve forgiveness. ❜

❛ They’re what I lost, they’re everything I want to be. ❜

❛ You broke me and I broke us. ❜

❛ I’ve been the fool. If he does it with you, he’ll do it to you. ❜

❛ I’d never realised, not until now, how shameful it is to be pitied. ❜

❛ Sometimes, I don’t want to go anywhere, I think I’ll be happy if I never have to set foot outside the house again. ❜

❛ I don’t believe in soul mates, but there’s an understanding between us that I just haven’t felt before, or at least, not for a long time. ❜

❛ There can be no greater agony, nothing can be more painful than the not knowing, which will never end. ❜

❛ Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there’s no point in denying it: you’re the one he can’t help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That’s just how irresistible you are. ❜

❛ I feel a rush of gratitude so strong, it feels almost like love. ❜

❛ You don’t know how determined I can be. Once I’ve made my mind up, I’m a force to be reckoned with. ❜

❛ The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be. ❜

❛ You don’t have to be afraid of being alone. It’s not the worst thing, is it? ❜

❛ I have felt this way before. On a larger scale, to a more intense degree, of course, but I remember the quality of the pain. You don’t forget it. ❜

❛ If he thinks I’m going to sit around crying, he’s got another thing coming. ❜

❛ I don’t like to lose. It’s not like me. None of this is like me. I don’t get rejected. I’m the one who walks away. ❜

❛ I don’t remember anger, raging fury. I remember fear. ❜

❛ I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in days. I hate it, hate insomnia more than anything, just lying there, brain going round, tick, tick, tick, tick. ❜

❛ Maybe the courage I need has nothing to do with telling the truth and everything to do with walking away. ❜

❛ I’m not beautiful, and I can’t have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless. ❜

❛ Failure cloaked me like a mantle, it overwhelmed me, dragged me under and I gave up hope. ❜

❛ It’s an odd thing to say, but I think this all the time; I don’t feel bad enough. ❜

❛ Some battles aren’t worth fighting. ❜

❛ I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to. ❜

❛ I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? ❜

❛ What bothers me most is that I haven’t got to the end of my story, and I can’t start over with someone else, it’s too hard. ❜

[rouxgrace-blog]

duality of man.

[rouxgrace-blog]

can i interest you in a big sword

[rouxgrace-blog]

p-pwease be my friend ma'am

[rouxgrace-blog]

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     ❝ oui, je suis une BAD BITCH. ❞

     sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque laudantium, totam rem aperiam, eaque ipsa quae ab illo inventore veritatis et quasi architecto beatae vitae dicta sunt explicabo. nemo enim ipsam voluptatem quia voluptas sit aspernatur aut odit aut fugit, sed quia consequuntur magni dolores eos qui ratione voluptatem sequi nesciunt. neque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem.