cryinginthechappel

[cryinginthechappel]

don't you think it's weird you haven't proposed to annie yet? a promise ring can only go so far...

[cryinginthechappel]

Well, well, well... It's been a little while since we got to have a little chat, huh? We're all just DYIN' (too soon?) to know what's on your minds over here, so - what do you say to pullin' up a chair, and havin' a good little bout of Front Porch Gossip? Some say it heals the soul!

Here's the deal! You're gonna reblog this post to participate - and then you're gonna grace any little nasty question that comes your way with an HONEST answer... or at least as honest as you can stand to be. And don't you forget to send some questions over for me and my lovely Cherie too - you know we can never resist a little gossip.

[cryinginthechappel]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆….𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋!

PINTEREST ┃PLAYLIST┃BIOGRAPHY

AMERICAN PSYCHO

Nobody ever loses control in a Ralph Lauren ad. No blood on the collar, no scuff marks on the loafers. No nervous sweat pooling in the dimples of a perfectly carved smile. But that’s what Sweets always liked about image—how easy it was to convince people that something polished was something good. That if you pressed hard enough on a wrinkle, it would disappear. That a habit, a need, anything could be fixed if you just didn’t talk about or feel it! His twin sister, Rose of Sharon, too… much. He was left to handle her early on, to wipe her prints off shattered glass and pull her out of the deep end, even when she didn’t want him to... But their parents never seemed to care about what she did, or what he did, so long as everything looked nice. And Sweets? He could play along. He preferred to. A picture-perfect son with perfectly placed sunglasses, a flawless smile, acclaim on and off the field, and a sweet little girlfriend who never asked why he gnawed at his lips so hard they bled. He curated himself the way one curates a wardrobe: precise, immaculate, bold. Until he lost it. One hit to the knee, and the dream was over. No more scholarship, no more college, no more future. He came home to whispered condolences and pitying smiles, to Cher floating facedown in their pool, to a life he never planned for. The blackouts started after that. Flashes of rage. A gnawing, animalistic need, totally out of his control. In lieu of a solution, he keeps his hands busy. Manages the family motel. Works out. Keeps his routines sharp. Spends hours in the mirror, perfecting the smile that has always saved him. Because in Misty Mountain, if you look good, people don’t ask questions. And as long as nobody asks, he can pretend everything is still perfect.

CONNECTIONS

GIRL, INTERRUPTED 

Sweets and Sharon are more like two sides of the same coin than anything else. Sweets has always found solace in his shiny, polished front, masking the imperfections he’s working overtime to keep locked up. Sharon’s a little different, messed up in a way that you can see, and that stresses Sweets out to no end. They’ve both got a darkness, though—something neither of them really knows how to shake. And maybe neither of them want to… At the end of the day, Cher might be the only person he gives more of a shit about than himself.

THE SIDEKICK

Sweets sees a lot of himself in Kiera. Much like himself, beneath her carefully constructed exterior, he can sense a simmering desire. For what? He doesn’t know. Yet.  He’s drawn to the fact that Kiera doesn’t try to make him into someone he’s not. Though Sweets placed that heavy crown on himself, the variety is nice for a change. There’s no judgment, no expectations—just two people who recognize the pressure of living under the weight of their own masks. For Sweets, Kiera represents a rare kind of freedom: the ability to exist without pretense, and, maybe for the first time, feel like he can be seen without the risk of shattering.

SERENDIPITY

Sweets doesn’t expect much from Serendipity, not anymore. But there’s a familiarity in her that gets under his skin. They were friends once, close after hours spent on those hunting trips when they were kids. Mom and Dad weren’t really the type to care when their children left the house all day without explanation. And Sweets had always liked getting out in the woods, even when he was a little boy. Everything was quieter out there, Serendipity seemed to appreciate that too. Over time, they grew to know each other and the first person he ever remembered feeling hatred for was her Dad. As the years went by, the hunting trips became fewer and fewer. And now? Serendipity is a ghost of that person he once knew. Sweets might not ever dare be seen with such an outcast in public, but he can’t help but feel drawn to her anger. They’re both too broken for small talk, but they’ve never quite fallen completely out of orbit.