#task four

[cityofdreamstasks]

FOURTH TASK: AUGUST 1ST - AUGUST 31ST

Our fourth City of Dreams task will be: connection moodboards!

Similar to our first task, this month will be all about moodboards. Instead of personal musings and aesthetics, we will be focusing on the connections that your celebrity has with other people. This can be with other celebrities here in the group, ETC. Feel free to do as many as you would like, for whatever connection you can think of! Dive deep into your celebrity’s romance, friendships, family, rivals, co-stars, and more, based on connections past or present. Be sure to use the tag #cityofdreamstask and tag the @cityofdreamstasks​ blog for each of your mood boards so we can show them off!

[voice-in-my-headd-blog]

6 feet under

It’s been over 11 years since his murder, and there’s not a day that I’m not glad I did it. I didn’t think at first that I was going to get away with it, especially when the cops showed up to my house questioning me. Of course they come to the significant other first, they always did. And I of course had every reason to kill him especially with the numerous reports of abuse and trips to the hospital. I could see the headlines now: “Abused girlfriend finally snaps: boyfriend found dead in the woods” But I was always a step ahead of them. I made sure Atlas and I were not the last people to see Leo that night. I made sure Atlas told Leo to meet him in the woods days before the actual murder happened, and shockingly enough, Atlas went along with every little detail. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when Atlas skipped town before the murder happened so he wouldn’t be tied to it what so ever. I made sure to keep myself at distance from Leo, being sure to just meet him in the morning and then have lunch with him and send him on his merry way to do whatever it was he was going to do before he was killed.

That night when the cops showed up to my door and informed me on what had happened, I broke down like any “grieving” girlfriend would. But that didn’t stop the questions. I was asked every known question in the book, from “when was the last time you saw him?” all the way to “He beat and abused you, and yet you stayed with him until you just couldn’t take it anymore and killed him, right?” And even though I gave them honest answers as to where I was and what I was doing, the questions kept coming. Well, they did until a witness who had been camping out in the woods came forward and told them what had happened. When they questioned him about recognizing me, of course the man said no because I wasn’t there. After an hour I was released and the man I had hexed into doing my dirty work was brought in, where he was later taken to jail. A few months after his arrest, the man I’d hexed was found dead in his prison cell from suicide, just another effect of my little hex.

To this day, I occasionally think about that day 11 years ago, especially when it’s the anniversary of his death. And now that Atlas is back, the memories have seemed to get slightly worse..

[cyrilxvaughn]

The Vaughn Family 

Viscount Falmouth, Edgar Vaughn (Alec Mapa FC)

Viscountess Falmouth, Honour Vaughn, deceased. (Agot Isidro FC)

Cyril Vaughn, the heir to the title (Manny Jacinto FC)

Jasper Vaughn (Derrick Monasterio FC)

Verity Vaughn (Kathryn Bernado FC)

Westley Vaughn (Ronnie Alonte FC)

Xavier Vaughn (Daniel Padilla FC) 

Tatyana De Rossi (Cyril’s secret ward)

[kingmxde]

Dear Professor,

I've had some writer's block lately, so I figured this might help me free myself. I'm writing this to you, in particular, because amongst everyone in my life. You were the only one that doesn't believe in me. You didn't believe in my ability, my talent, my worth.

"You'll never amount to anything."

"I read that garbage. Your writing is subpar, at best."

"You don't even understand the basics! And you call yourself a writer?"

Those are things I'd hear from you regularly, and they honestly brought me down. You were someone I looked up to, admired—someone I idolized. But then you showed me your true colors. And just like that, my fantasy came tumbling down.

It took a while to get back to where I truly believed I could do something, to make something of myself and my work. Luckily for me, I had surrounded myself by wonderful, caring people that only ever wanted the very best for me. People that saw my strengths and, instead of pointing out my flaws, helped me build myself accordingly.

Thanks to you, I stopped idolizing false Gods and began cherishing those who mattered - those closest to me - and I've never been prouder than I am now. You mean nothing, and you will continue to mean nothing as long as I'm doing what I love, no thanks to you.

- Your "favorite" student

[dolohovboy-blog]

do you want children one day?

vi. we went walking through backyards, asking what is in store for us.

“it’s, well–” he stumbles with his words for once, as he tries to think about a long distant future, with a family, with a home of his own. it is hard to think of, and he tries not to want something that probably won’t end up coming to fruition. was it nice to think about, having his own little ones running around with a precious wife with no cares in the world? sure. 

he shrugs his shoulders, eyes drifting off towards the floor as it brings down his mood a little. he knows that he would not deserve the things like a family, or any sort of happiness and certainly doesn’t expect it. “–would be nice, but highly doubtful i will ever have that.” his own family, he means.

then, he thinks about his own childhood and how terrible it had been. with a deadbeat mom and a father who didn’t come into the picture until much later. how he had to struggle, how he was beaten, how terrible everything had been and he worries that he wouldn’t even be a good father in the first place. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

do you worry clara will be harmed by the war or as a consequence for something you've done?

v. la belle et la bête

antonin sighs, and can’t help but nod his head. “it has crossed my mind.” of course it has. it’s something that haunts him – follows him around. he use to believe that they shouldn’t be together, and still sort of does. his life is full of danger and – and blood and brutality, and he doesn’t want her to have any part of that. yet, he can’t help but want her and to be near her. 

it worries him when he lays in his bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. when the guilt rolls in and the impending, suffocating thoughts that maybe – just maybe, he shouldn’t be doing all that he’s been doing. clara will float into his headspace, like she so often does, and he’ll fret and shake and holds his head in his hands as he tells himself that he can change. 

it makes him grit his teeth, his jaw going tense as he thinks of anything bad happening to the woman. she was an angelic presence, and it was unfathomable to think that anyone would want to bring harm to her. he’d kill anyone that even looked at her wrong. 

“i’d never let anything happen to her.” he says this so strongly, with so much emotion held behind it. he loves her, gods, he loves her so much it is frightening. “tant que je vivrai, je la garderai en sécurité.” for as long as i live, i shall keep her safe. and he would. he would fight till his last breath to make sure no hair on her head was harmed. 

ironically, much of the outside world might not be as dangerous as the man himself. clara gets protection, yet is not protected from the monster, himself. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

If you had to date another girl besides Clara, who would you choose?

ii. parce que je te donnerais toutes les années de ma vie

antonin seems affronted by the question, a scoff coming from him as he shakes his head. “elle est la seule.” she is the only one. he says it so sincere, so obviously in love with the woman and with eyes that sparkle for her. “why would i think of such things with her right in front of me?” antonin shakes his head. 

there was no one else, besides the pomfrey woman. she was what he had been pining for – for years. his heart beating only for her, basically melting with the attention she would spare for him. the poor boy from the rough side of life – the beast, and she could calm the storm with just that soft smile of hers. 

“she is… she is it.” he says it rather slowly, a softness overtaking his face. the only woman to bring such a tenderness out of him. with his little smiles and heart aflutter, it was all real. “i couldn’t.” antonin says this with such conviction. 

“je suis im dans cette vie et la suivante. mon coeur est le sien. si je ne l'aurai pas – alors je n'aurai personne.” i’m hers in this life and the next. my heart is hers. if i shall not have her – then i shall have no one.

[dolohovboy-blog]

Do you regret anything you’ve done?

i.  how will you exist? (how will i exist) i don’t want to know.

“hmm,” he hums, tapping his finger on the table as he delves back into his memories. there is much that antonin has done through his life, much pain and torment that he has spread. guilt that creeps in when he finds himself alone. “it’s such a heavy question.” he says, eyes glancing off as he is faced with his own brutality and quite sickening ways. oh, how he tries to hide it. 

antonin remembers the look on his mother’s face – one of pure shock and horror as he stood over some street kid in a dirty alleyway. how he had been so close to inflicting terrible misery onto the poor boy. a pocket knife stuck in his hand, it shakes as he finds the gaze of his mother who looks at him like he’s never seen before. the woman who use to stare at him with stars in her eyes, with something like reverence and the sun all turned to ash in a mere accidental incident. 

he would have tortured that kid, with no mercy in his bones – he would have brutalized the boy unrecognizable. his mother, with all her faults and flaws and her fuck ups – still, with that gentle mercy glued to her bones which was something he never got to inherit. instead, it’s the dolohov blood raging in him, that she sees it in his eyes. the cruelty and the darkness that threatens to drown her only son – her only boy, and she falls to her knees and weeps hysterics for the son she will ultimately lose and for what she has brought to the world. 

“out of everything?” he sighs, leaning back in his chair and his face grows a little colder – a little haunted. “il n'y a qu'un seul.” there is only one. antonin whispers in his native tongue, it feels like safety with it – as if he can whisper secrets untold and no one will quite understand. “à ma mère qui je souhaite toujours me regardait comme si j'étais divin.” to my mother who i wish still looked at me like i was divine.