belledesrosiers-blog

[belledesrosiers-blog]

primevcl:

Something quite resembling SINCERITY flits across his face and lands across cracked lips in the form of a half-smile. Again, instinctively, impulsively, he reaches for her. When she begins to lean into the center of the desk, towards him, he finds himself leaning in to meet her, and one hand reaches out ― slowly, as though not to frighten a wide-eyed woodland creature ― and settles on her upper arm, thumb already beginning to CARESS her skin the moment he touches her.

“That’s not true,” he murmurs, and his hand slides down her arm, pulling her hand up and onto the desk, where he takes it in the grip of all ten of his own calloused fingers, “You’ll always have ME, Belle.” The warmth creeping into his tone, his features, is unmistakable. With Belle, the line seems to blur between HOLLOW WORDS used to get his way and dulcet affection which is every bit as sincere as it is sweet. It’s unusual, and most of the time he doesn’t even quite catch himself doing it. It’s something strange, seeing a selfish and PREDATORY creature like Gaston around Belle. He claims to love her, even as he backs her into a corner with no escape in sight, but his end goal might just be precisely what he claims it is and nothing quite so SINISTER as one would fear.

“But there is NOTHING else,” he continues sternly, icy blue gaze still locked onto hers. The emotion which perhaps should be behind this statement should cause him to need to look away for shame of the meager efforts he knows the police department is providing, but Gaston cares about Belle, NOT her father. Never mind that Maurice’s absence is hurting his daughter. Gaston knows just as well as every one of his coworkers there is nothing more then can possibly do and, quite frankly, nothing more they WANT to do. “We’re trying as hard as we can, but it’s as though he just… vanished. And you getting so UPSET about it isn’t helping him, or yourself.” His tone takes on an authoritative color, trying to insist as much as he can that she set aside these SILLY concerns, and focus on what Gaston considers to be the more important pieces of her life. Though he could never say that to her.

                                             ( Well, not again. He did say it once, several weeks                                              ago, right after Maurice went missing, and it didn’t                                              go nearly as well as he had hoped. Belle slapped                                              him. LeFou laughed. Really, just a bad situation. )

He sighs, gaze finally dropping to their hands on his desk, where he’s absently, CONTENTEDLY tracing light circles on the back of Belle’s hand. “You need to start considering that your father just isn’t coming back, Belle.” The assertion comes after a few moments, and quieter this time. Just as sure, but with less intensity, less urgency. “I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but shouldn’t you start thinking of how to take care of yourself? Just in case? You said it yourself, he’s all you’ve got.” He turns his line of sight back to her face once more, taking a moment to study the lines of her jaw, the color of her eyes; a warmth, something which feels almost like a CALMNESS he hasn’t known since before Avenant’s death always spreads through him when he’s able to be close to Belle, and the feeling grows the longer he’s near her.

“I could take care of you.” He doesn’t quite stumble over his words ― he’s much too practiced at being suave for that ― but it’s something close, which almost smells of it if you pay close enough attention. “Let me take care of you, Belle. PLEASE.”

She has found many excuses to justify his touch, a hunter soothing his prey, spinning beautiful words and spitting them out like something holy and true. Maybe she’s a fool, she knows exactly where she stands, in the lion’s den, baring her throat to his teeth, doe eyes falling for his lies. Or maybe she is exactly where she wants to be, both hunters considering the other prey. Any other day, Belle would not seek his touch but something inside her began to crack the moment she laid her feet on the floor and the weight she has been carrying around since her father disappeared suffocated her, a lump in her throat preventing her from breathing right.

Eyes meeting the floor until that moment, far too heartbroken to manage the strength to look him in the eye as he proclaimed, as every other time she’s walked into the station, that there is nothing new, nothing left of her father besides the clothes he left behind, an incomplete work and the memories she would be stuck with, forever; they were happy memories, sure, and although, years ago, that would have been enough when he left for weeks at a time, the romanticism that marked Belle’s life was replaced with a bitter, much more resentful view on life. Memories would fade and she would be left with nothing but coy smiles and whispers from the town’s folk, still pitching the story of crazy old Maurice. Many were the times when Belle thought maybe it was best to fall in line and agree with everyone else, turn the love for her father into hate and resentment but she never could and now she knows, she never would.

His caress soothes her, a feeling she never thought she would get from Gaston, rocking her like a baby in her cradle, lost in thought. As he speaks again, she finally manages to lift her head and look him in the eye, something hidden behind the ice blue; they should be cold but there is a fire in there that makes her trust him. A foolish notion, she knows. There it is: the doe falling into the trap. “What do you propose? Marriage?” A scoff leaves her lips, unwittingly, turning into a sigh. “That won’t bring my father back, will it?” Their hands, previously intertwined, fall away from each other, Belle folds hers in her lap.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze somewhere else, anywhere else, away from his. She hates how weak he makes her feel, how she loses control and posture around him, how she would like nothing else than to stop being strong and pour herself into him, let him melt the sadness away with his wolfish hands. It would be easy, to stop fighting, to forget her father and his disappearance, to buy a house with a picket fence and live happily ever after. No matter how good that sounded, Belle knew by now that was the stuff of fairytales, notions she loved very much but learned were not realistic. No, she was raised to be strong and stand her ground, to not let the simplest obstacles stop her; and when it came to her father, hearing there is nothing was not enough to persuade her. “Yes, well, if he doesn’t come back it’s because he can’t,” her voice sounds pitched, cracking, harder to control. “You’re not doing anything about it.”

She looks him in the eye and finally stands up from the chair, taking the coat from the back of her chair and holding it to her chest. “I can take care of myself.”

[belledesrosiers-blog]

[belledesrosiers-blog]

She was the amoureuse of all the novels, the heroine of all the plays, the vague “she” of all the poetry books.

Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert

[belledesrosiers-blog]

Bitter sweet and strange Finding you can change

b e a u t y  &  t h e  b e a s t

[belledesrosiers-blog]

aesthetics meme (send me a tv show/book/character/ship/etc. and I will make a graphic/picspam)

 @confexionery said: could i request a modern belle (beauty and the beast, 1991) aesthetic? thank you!

[belledesrosiers-blog]

can you imagine being in a heated argument with someone you have like a bunch of sexual tension with and calling them a dick and then them replying with “yeah well this dick is hard" 

[belledesrosiers-blog]

She is soft and totally hurtable and that’s what being wild is.

Kahy Acker, Blood And Guts In High School

[belledesrosiers-blog]

Girl as a honeycomb— sickly sweet, riddled with empty spaces .

from “Untitled”, Mimi H. Kim (via magpiedreams)

[belledesrosiers-blog]

I want to know what to do with the dead things we carry.

Aracelis Girmay, from “This Morning the Small Bird Brought a Message from the Other Side,” Kingdom Animalia (BOA Editions, Ltd., 2011)

[belledesrosiers-blog]

my type of otp: slowly the insults become terms of endearment

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i know i  should crumble  for better reasons  but have you seen that boy he brings the sun to its  knees every night

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey (via booksqouted)

[belledesrosiers-blog]

What a cruel thing it is… to want someone that is toxic to your soul.

funsized-grace

[belledesrosiers-blog]

reysclcs:

Rey smiled at Belle, thinking about the past few weeks’ events and feeling a little bit sorry for Belle. Rey had taken weeks to move on from Han’s death – two of them pent in a motel while her home was an active crime scene. While Rey didn’t get the closure of knowing who killed her father, he wasn’t just… missing. Maurice, he was just missing. Perhaps he was alive. Perhaps he had died. Rey didn’t know, and neither did Belle. They may never know,  and that was something that bothered Rey more than anything. At least she knew how Han died, had a place she’d buried him that she could visit. 

A quick hug, and Rey smiled wide at Belle, trying to show her support. Perhaps she’d convince the girl to join in her crusade one day, seeking justice where there is none in Hermosa. But Rey wasn’t going to touch that until Belle had a little bit more time to heal. Rey went through every stage of grief before the case closed, and then discovered that things had not added up to the way the police believed things happened. She was a part-time sleuth now, and she was sure Belle was going out of her mind with worry. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she says with a smile, “I never appreciated things so much. It’s absolutely stunning in the dark,though I’d never be here if the rest of the town weren’t.” People in Hermosa knew about the dangers of Devil’s Ridge, the people who had fallen from great heights back in the 1970s and the wildlife that sometimes seemed to be a bit too angry for a small town. Rey looks up at Belle, spreading her blanket out and smiling sadly. 

“How have you been?” Rey asked, cautiously. She didn’t want to upset Belle in any way, knowing that the subject of Maurice was, of course, sensitive. 

Being with Rey always felt better than being with anyone else, even if the pair hadn’t spent a lot of time together lately. Belle felt like Rey understood her and her position without pity or judgment, after all, she too had lost someone very important to her. So unlike the pity that mirrored many of the people that talked to Belle on a daily basis, the sentiment mirrored on Rey’s eyes wasn’t pity but understanding and her questions did not hurt as much if they came from someone else.

Sitting next to her, blankets in a row, Belle stretched out her legs and supported her weight with her hands, allowing her to look straight into the sky. It looked like they managed to snatch up the last good, privileged spot to witness the entire show. It indeed felt like a show more than a natural phenomenon, but lately Belle was in the mindset to question everything. She wanted tonight to be the first step in her grieving process, even if the idea of moving on was far from being reasonable. Her lips outlined into a faded smile, fighting back the melancholy from coming out. “Ah, you know…” a pause to clear her throat “Fine,” her eyes fall on Rey and her smile widens, “I’ve managed.” It was close to the truth, at least.

“And you? So much work at the workshop, I barely see you.” Belle changes her position, this time directly facing the girl in front of her, crossing her legs and hugging them to maintain balance. “Is Chewie still sick?”

[belledesrosiers-blog]

aladdinelkadi:

Aladdin hadn’t expected it to be… her.

Oh, yes, he knew her. Everyone in town did since Maurice had disappeared. He’d heard his fair share of whispering about it, but no one really talked to Belle about it. He could imagine it was very isolating… In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it at all. All of his mom’s friends had done a lot of whispering and not talking when she was sick too. It was just that her disappearance didn’t happen quite so quickly.

It didn’t seem right to take away the one thing she was seeking, a place to be away from the eyes of the rest of the town. He knew how that felt too. “Uh, wait, wait,” he said, slightly awkward as he jogged closer. “You don’t… you don’t have to go. It’s all right if you want to stick around for a little while. It’s just me and Abu, and we won’t bother you. I’m Aladdin, by the way.”

Belle stopped, still half-turned towards the crowd of people in the distance and the boy, standing next to her two steps away from the cliff. “Are you sure?” he seemed like an amiable person, so few of those in Hermosa. At least he wasn’t looking at her with pity in his eyes or a quizzical tone in his voice. Her family was known for many things before her father’s disappearance, however, they never seemed to bother how it affected them; their words weren’t whispers, but they were now, and Belle hated it even more. She would rather have it all back, the funny smiles and scold looks for then she had her father to lean on and the notion that together, their words wouldn’t hurt them. There was a time where they amused her but now, she hates that their hypocrisy turned into pity. She didn’t need it.

“I guess we had the same idea, Aladdin,” Belle smiles and stretch her hand to his, waiting for a shook. “I’m Belle.” She didn’t want to assume he knew who she was, even if it was almost impossible not to. “And you, little guy!” the dog laid lazily on the blanket, undisturbed by her arrival or her caresses. “I’m surprised he doesn’t smell the odor of cat in me.” She looks back at Aladdin, caressing the dog one last time before getting up again. “We can avoid other people together.”

[belledesrosiers-blog]

The Universe always fascinated Belle. As someone who always longed to explore, the final frontier was something too appetizing not to want or, at the very least, wonder. Its magnitude was too intimidating, a dark cover of fiery stars and dying light; that’s what they were, after all. Dying light. And to that, Belle could relate more than she would ever dare admit or recognize. But who knew dying things could still bare so much beauty? Who knew so many would gather in awe at the spectacle of falling? What curious beings, humans are. They think dying stars are the most beautiful display of strength, yet they weep when it’s their flesh that burns. It’s enough that the Creator believes it will bring new hope into their lives and, as it seems, he is right.

It was, perhaps, that curiosity that compelled Belle to join the rest of Hermosa’s citizens and climb to Devil’s Ridge with a blanket and some snacks, lay it down on the grass and stone and crane her neck to the sky, always the sky, up and high, dark with flashing shine. It was beautiful, that much she could agree on; even before it started to fall, Belle shrinked into her blanket, the night breeze starting to become colder. She felt like an ant against this backdrop.

The other reason was, of course, the possibility of being surprised. The expression on everybody’s face as they contemplated the sky mimicked Belle’s the first time she saw Adam’s mansion, not too long ago. It was almost as imposing as the scenario standing in front of her, a vastness and grandeur she knew only from fairy tales and princes, even if much more taciturn and gloom than the light pouring from the sky. Of course, that first impression didn’t totally match the opinion she was left with of its owner, Adam. Now, it was slowly beginning to change; the more time Belle spent with him, the more she learned about him (not of his own volition, but on her own, as she learnt how to unriddle the emotions in his eyes and the meaning of his gestures). When she heard about the meteor shower, Belle’s first thought went to her father. Maurice was the person she wanted to attend this event with, but alas, her second thought was a lot more painful than the first; and then, without meaning to, her third thought went to Adam. He was the person she wanted to share this with. She would never act upon that thought, and she didn’t. At least, not directly.

After their last unusual encounter, outside of the Yellow Book Road, the sight of him outside of his own fortified four walls was almost an outworldly experience, one she would later question was even real at all. But it was and he looked like something else when the heavy gloom of the house didn’t hover over him. So she hoped he would be wise enough to uncover the meaning behind her words and show up at Devil’s Ridge.

While everyone else looked to the sky, Belle looked around, in hopes to spot his figure. She constantly tried to get the idea out of her, diminish its meaning but, whenever she wasn’t thinking rationally, it was as if her heart took over and she found herself, involuntarily, scanning the crowd. Every single person arriving at the site was cause for her heart to pound a little faster, only to soothe a moment later, when it wasn’t him. By now, she told her heart to lose all hope and stop acting foolishly. He wasn’t coming. But then, as if he sensed hope fading away from her eyes, they finally spotted him, standing awkwardly in between blankets and angrily looking people, glaring at him to get out of the way. She couldn’t help but smile, a strange sound coming out of her mouth: something she didn’t know still resided within her. He looked different, lost, his menacing composure lost now that he didn’t have his castle to rule over.

Belle stood there, in her blanket, another face in the crowd, enjoying his sight a little while longer, mustering the strength and courage to approach him. It was silly, really, but she didn’t plan anything in the event that he actually showed up. What was she supposed to say?

Finally, still unsure of herself and what would come next, she rose from her spot, blanket falling from her shoulders to the floor and started walking in his direction as his eyes directed to the sky, she couldn’t take hers off of him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she finally came close enough that he could hear. She smiled at him and followed his gaze to the sky, the stars still in place, flickering one at a time. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” Belle’s eyes fell from the sky to his eyes, briefly, not enough to linger (she was afraid if she stared too long she would get lost there, lost to never be found), and then to his empty hands. “Did you bring your blanket?”

location: devil’s ridge availability: open to all !!

“The sky is falling.” A mumble beneath his breath as he sidled up to the back of the crowd, an odd duck in a gaggle of swans, all with expectant eyes turned upward. He’d not thought to come - despite the Creator’s insistence, Adam had always favored the solitude of his home to the forced companionship of town-wide events such as this one; were it possible, he would still be at home, dressed in a robe, sitting by a fire, and drinking wine that he very much would not share with anyone. But it was not possible, it seemed; two very persuasive presences - one purposeful, and one inadvertent - had convinced him to be here to watch the sky fall. 

But he certainly didn’t have to look cheery about it - and he certainly didn’t. 

He glanced over one shoulder, then the other, and ventured another step toward the crowd. In the interest of participation, he craned his neck upward, eyes darting from flickering light to flickering light - they all looked rather normal, rather usual, but of course Adam was in no place to question the powers that be. And he certainly was not like to make a fuss about his presence there; the more easily he faded into the background, the more easily he escaped the seemingly necessary droning of social interaction, the better. But that seemed inescapable. 

Adam blinked once. Twice. The stars looked the same. “The sky is falling… slowly.”

[belledesrosiers-blog]

aladdinelkadi:

Date: July 5th Time: 8:00 PM Location: Devil’s Ridge Status: Open

The show hadn’t started yet. Aladdin didn’t mind because the view was incredible all on its own. He’d always appreciated a fantastic sight, and here, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the ridge, Aladdin couldn’t help but take it all in. The sun had set and the stars were glittering above him, and they felt almost brighter than usual, like they were excited about the meteor shower too.

Magical, he thought, smiling. He fiddled with the chain of his necklace absent-mindedly, fingers tracing over the worn ring his mother had kept on her finger until the day before she died. She’d handed it to him and told him to give it to a special girl someday. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to part with it though, even for someone that special… He wished his mom had made it to this night. He would bet she’d love it.

He glanced back behind him at the blanket he’d brought to sit on. Abu was snoozing, oblivious. Aladdin lit a cigarette and looked back out over the ridge. The rest of the town was moving into the area, but he’d found a spot close enough to the edge that he was mostly by himself. It made him less nervous that way, knowing that their eyes weren’t watching… though that wasn’t to say he wasn’t being watched, he supposed, given the Sentinels and the Creator….

It was best not to think about that. He should just enjoy the beautiful summer and the spectacle that was about to come forth. There was a small breeze blowing through the ridge, knocking some of the heat off of the day, and he was completely at peace.

Then, he heard footsteps approach from behind him. Instinctively, Aladdin pulled himself back from the edge, not wanting to be shoved off by anyone who disliked him enough to make an attempt. He tried to keep the move casual though, so as not to imply that was the case. “What’s up? Need something?” he said, getting to his feet and turning to head back to his blanket.

For the longest time, Devil’s Ridge was an almost forbidden place, scenario to tales of horror and local legends, people were either too foolish to walk too close or too brave; Belle was neither. She remembered the first time she visited Devil’s Ridge, shortly after she and her father came to Hermosa. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen, standing at the tallest point in town, you could see everything around you and below, shrunk to tiny details in the distance. Standing there was like standing at the top of the world, with all its perks and cons. Of course, it was the best place to watch a meteor shower, of that Belle had no doubt. Still, no one dared to sit too close to the cliff.

Everyone had already placed their blankets on the ground and in their shoulders, wrapped around in cocoons with their significant others, family and lovers all gathered there to notice the wonders the Creator blessed them with. It was beautiful but Belle couldn’t help but feel a thug in her heart, biting her cheek and walk away from the picture perfect families laughing and enjoying themselves together. Not too long ago, she had that. But now it was gone.

She walked where she knew no one else would be: the edge of the cliff. To her surprise, a shadowy figure was already there, standing, just like Belle, looking for solitude. She knew him from around town, his face was familiar but his name escaped her memory. “I’m sorry,” his abrupt standing stopped her from taking another step. “I was just…” Belle gestured towards the crowd behind them and shrugged. “Looking for solitude. I didn’t think someone else would be brave enough to walk this close to the edge.” She smiled and looked to the sky, already beautiful just before the grand spectacle started. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in the fresh night air. “I love it here.” Belle looked to the distance before contemplating the figure still standing next to her, a few feet away. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled and turned, ready to go.

[belledesrosiers-blog]

Life was beginning to return to normal. Not for Belle, of course, no matter how much the forces of the Universe tried to get the idea of her father’s disappearance out of her head, make her forget about it (or, if not forget, accept it), she fought against it with whatever tools she had. It was a constant, silent battle, but only for Belle, as it seemed. The town square, usually so full of life, was devoid of the usual background noise of people talking, cars driving by and little kids playing in the playground; instead, those noises could be heard far away, as echoes of impossible understanding. Everybody was eager to see the spectacle of light in the sky. Everybody was happy.

Maurice would have loved to see it, the wondrous things that Nature and the Universe bestow upon the insignificance of Men. Up here in the Devil’s Ridge, that sense of nothingness intensified, with only the sky, stately, filling the scenery. Belle decided to come; she couldn’t, would never forget about her father but she knew, as well, if anything else this was meant to honor him. He would have loved it and would have wanted Belle to see it; and so would Belle, under any other circumstances. It was time to allow herself to numb the pain, if only for a few hours. She knew everyone in Hermosa would be there, anyway, it would be foolish not to attend - after all, she was already talked about for multiple reasons, she didn’t want people to find another one.

Walking with her blanket under her arm, Belle looked around trying to find the perfect spot to lay it down and enjoy the spectacle. Most places were already reserved with blankets of their own and as she looked around she spotted the back of someone she knew well-enough. Rey. She walked towards the girl, smiling as she came closer. “Hey!” Belle smiled and leaned for a quick hug, “We can sit together.” She smiled and pushed her away from the rows of people and blankets, careful not to step on any of them. “Who knew Devil’s Ridge could be the stage to such beautiful display, mhm?” She smiled at the girl, finally spotting a good place no one snatched yet and layed down her blanket on the floor.

Rey looked around and then up at the sky, expecting some profound discovery but instead finding the same stars she’d been staring at her whole life. They looked the very same as the ones she’d seen in Jakku, as the ones she’d seen on the roof of Han’s house the first day after she was adopted. The stars were constant, and Rey… Rey was constantly changing, her life filled with the exact opposite of monotony. She turned her head down and opened the back door of the old car she’d chosen to drive for the event: an old blue Mustang. 

She’s just glad she’d left Chewie at the house, too many people were around and Rey knew he’d have already lost his mind if he were here. She turns, and finds a person she knows well enough, marching over towards them with the blanket she pans on sitting on under her arm. 

“Hey!” Rey exclaims, “You have someone to sit with?”