fairytaletold

[fairytaletold]

boys who wear tiny hoop earrings …,, hello.

[fairytaletold]

Look, Sookie just made a ton of really great food and I’m starving, and though it may not seem like it right at this moment, it’s gonna be fun. Trust me.

JESS MARIANO & RORY GILMORE GILMORE GIRLS (2000-2007) — 2.05, “Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy”

[fairytaletold]

❛ a gentleman. something you claim to be. and rest assured, should anyone speak of my own sisters this way, they would be meeting me in the field. ❜

oh, but the subtle shift in his expression speaks volumes; he would like nothing better right then. it should strike him strange. he is hardly a man to wish for bloodshed; he doesn’t start fights, but he will fight if needed. yet as he stares at this pitiful excuse for a man, he can think only one thing: test me.

❛ consider it a small blessing that all you must do it apologize.❜

the change in him is thunderous. his expression grows darkened by roiling clouds, the thunderclap held between clenched teeth. this was personal, but even if it were not, the man would have riled him anyway, like some vengeful god angered by this sacrilege.

❛ careful, sir. ❜ he steps into the man’s space now, tone hot, but no less steady for it. ❛ it sounds very much like you insult your lady wife, in public for anyone to hear…. but surely I misread your intention. ❜

and with his smile ( hard, showing teeth ) he offers out the chance to move past this unsavory mishap. but his eyes have the righteous fire of a man who will demand apology. and should he rebuke this kind offer? he will not find another extended to him.

[fairytaletold]

the change in him is thunderous. his expression grows darkened by roiling clouds, the thunderclap held between clenched teeth. this was personal, but even if it were not, the man would have riled him anyway, like some vengeful god angered by this sacrilege.

❛ careful, sir. ❜ he steps into the man’s space now, tone hot, but no less steady for it. ❛ it sounds very much like you insult your lady wife, in public for anyone to hear…. but surely I misread your intention. ❜

and with his smile ( hard, showing teeth ) he offers out the chance to move past this unsavory mishap. but his eyes have the righteous fire of a man who will demand apology. and should he rebuke this kind offer? he will not find another extended to him.

her grief does not go unnoticed by him. were their reunion somewhere more private, he would have tried to offer comfort. as it is, he can only offer a smile that’s equal parts rueful and repentant. he never meant to make her worry; he hadn’t wanted to make her sad, yet fate had chosen to keep them apart and cause the damage anyway.

the wash of pleasure at her simple words seems to make it all worthwhile. he looks different in the span of time, to be sure: he wears a close cropped beard now, and threads of silver have woven through his hair. there’s a new scar just below his temple, a fracture of skin lighter than the rest. and yet isabel — she looks exactly the same. untouched by age since they day they met.

he’s half ready to reassure her, before ever knowing what plagues her thoughts, and then she lands a blow harder than any other man he’s fought.

❛ married, ❜ he echoes, tasting the word, letting the bitterness of it sink in. he can’t quite manage to hide the way that shock twists the aspects of his face; when his gaze locks with hers, the rest of the world seems to fall away, leaving them — alone, wordless in their pain. ❛ I see. you were right to move on, of course. ❜ here, he tries valiantly for a smile. it’s paper thin, too cool to warm his eyes. ❛ I simply took too much time. ❜

[fairytaletold]

lost as he is in his own misery, the knight can’t help but read her face. perhaps he would have been better served to turn heel and leave this place right then — perhaps, but he finds himself lost in the words she leaves unspoken on her tongue. the acidic taste of his own disappointment is drowned with the wine clutched in one hand, because there’s no time to feel such grief. no — for a man approaches her now, and cristoval has a good idea who he is.

now, it shifts to autopilot: good breeding has long ingrained in him the instincts to survive high society. he doesn’t give conscious thought to the way his face takes on a more pleasant mien, stiff and formal as his bow, his smile. cristoval straightens to his full height, addressing the man who holds Isabel’s arm.

❛ congratulations, ❜ he intones, the briefest nod before meeting those eyes. ❛ your wife is a modest woman. ❜ here, his gaze cuts aside. this smile, directed solely at her, lights a flicker of warmth in his eyes. ❛ she was the nurse who saved my life. you can’t imagine my surprise to see her once more. ❜

her grief does not go unnoticed by him. were their reunion somewhere more private, he would have tried to offer comfort. as it is, he can only offer a smile that’s equal parts rueful and repentant. he never meant to make her worry; he hadn’t wanted to make her sad, yet fate had chosen to keep them apart and cause the damage anyway.

the wash of pleasure at her simple words seems to make it all worthwhile. he looks different in the span of time, to be sure: he wears a close cropped beard now, and threads of silver have woven through his hair. there’s a new scar just below his temple, a fracture of skin lighter than the rest. and yet isabel — she looks exactly the same. untouched by age since they day they met.

he’s half ready to reassure her, before ever knowing what plagues her thoughts, and then she lands a blow harder than any other man he’s fought.

❛ married, ❜ he echoes, tasting the word, letting the bitterness of it sink in. he can’t quite manage to hide the way that shock twists the aspects of his face; when his gaze locks with hers, the rest of the world seems to fall away, leaving them — alone, wordless in their pain. ❛ I see. you were right to move on, of course. ❜ here, he tries valiantly for a smile. it’s paper thin, too cool to warm his eyes. ❛ I simply took too much time. ❜

[fairytaletold]

her grief does not go unnoticed by him. were their reunion somewhere more private, he would have tried to offer comfort. as it is, he can only offer a smile that’s equal parts rueful and repentant. he never meant to make her worry; he hadn’t wanted to make her sad, yet fate had chosen to keep them apart and cause the damage anyway.

the wash of pleasure at her simple words seems to make it all worthwhile. he looks different in the span of time, to be sure: he wears a close cropped beard now, and threads of silver have woven through his hair. there’s a new scar just below his temple, a fracture of skin lighter than the rest. and yet isabel — she looks exactly the same. untouched by age since they day they met.

he’s half ready to reassure her, before ever knowing what plagues her thoughts, and then she lands a blow harder than any other man he’s fought.

❛ married, ❜ he echoes, tasting the word, letting the bitterness of it sink in. he can’t quite manage to hide the way that shock twists the aspects of his face; when his gaze locks with hers, the rest of the world seems to fall away, leaving them — alone, wordless in their pain. ❛ I see. you were right to move on, of course. ❜ here, he tries valiantly for a smile. it’s paper thin, too cool to warm his eyes. ❛ I simply took too much time. ❜

❛ Does that surprise you? ❜ He smiles, nods, at a familiar face, expression so carefully neutral and blank. Damn this ball; damn this crowd. Were it not for the endless sea of onlookers, he would already have her in his arms — to hell with this game of propriety. He had spent years in war torn regions, months in the battlefield oh high society, and one thought had led him through it all: her.

❛ I can hardly believe it myself. ❜ They skirt the edge of the room now, the subject of far less attention. His gaze slides to her once more, unhurried as it takes her in now, lingering at the curve of her neck, her lips. ❛ You look beautiful, ❜ he admits at last, soft, though the word can scarcely do her justice. They draw up to the drink table now, and he regrettably parts from her touch in favor of getting her a drink. ❛ It would be worth any wait simply to see you again. ❜

[fairytaletold]

"can you behave" yes, if I wanted to, but this is so much funnier

[fairytaletold]

❛ Does that surprise you? ❜ He smiles, nods, at a familiar face, expression so carefully neutral and blank. Damn this ball; damn this crowd. Were it not for the endless sea of onlookers, he would already have her in his arms — to hell with this game of propriety. He had spent years in war torn regions, months in the battlefield oh high society, and one thought had led him through it all: her.

❛ I can hardly believe it myself. ❜ They skirt the edge of the room now, the subject of far less attention. His gaze slides to her once more, unhurried as it takes her in now, lingering at the curve of her neck, her lips. ❛ You look beautiful, ❜ he admits at last, soft, though the word can scarcely do her justice. They draw up to the drink table now, and he regrettably parts from her touch in favor of getting her a drink. ❛ It would be worth any wait simply to see you again. ❜

Time was a funny thing. It chose to pass in droughts and spurts, letting months trickle by as one tried to move on and speeding the days one wished to remember. For him, the years have been cruel and long: he’s felt every single day as it’s passed, the weight of lost time etched in his skin. Yet now, with her bright and soft before him, they pick up where they were before, nothing different. Nothing new.

❛ Death alone could keep me away. ❜ His eyes sweep over her, perfunctory, cataloging that everything is in its place. ❛ You look well, ❜ he murmurs, and if his tone is appropriate to passerby, the warmth in his eyes is certainly not. His mouth curls. ❛ You have no idea how many ghastly balls I’ve attended in the hopes of seeing you. ❜ He steps back, if only to offer an arm, well within his rights to escort her for a drink. ❛ Would you walk with me? ❜

[fairytaletold]

who are you when you aren't performing? can you sit still, comfortably, in your skin? or does the beating of your own heart make your head ache?

[fairytaletold]

Time was a funny thing. It chose to pass in droughts and spurts, letting months trickle by as one tried to move on and speeding the days one wished to remember. For him, the years have been cruel and long: he’s felt every single day as it’s passed, the weight of lost time etched in his skin. Yet now, with her bright and soft before him, they pick up where they were before, nothing different. Nothing new.

❛ Death alone could keep me away. ❜ His eyes sweep over her, perfunctory, cataloging that everything is in its place. ❛ You look well, ❜ he murmurs, and if his tone is appropriate to passerby, the warmth in his eyes is certainly not. His mouth curls. ❛ You have no idea how many ghastly balls I’ve attended in the hopes of seeing you. ❜ He steps back, if only to offer an arm, well within his rights to escort her for a drink. ❛ Would you walk with me? ❜

@fairytaletold sent [ LINGER ]:          taking Bella’s hand, Cristoval lifts it to their lips, and gently kisses their knuckles, lingering for a moment before withdrawing. (Thinking about him running into her again 6 years later in a public place and having to be Appropriate about greeting her)

Bella had thought nothing of it, when her husband had informed her that they'd been invited to a ball. She'd simply dressed in the fashions of the time, a pale blue gown, with each curl carefully set atop her head, and taken her husbands arm, and here they were.

But now - she swears she's seeing ghosts. A man, across the floor, who looks just like her Cristoval, if only older by a few years. And, as luck would have it - he spots her too.

No - can it be?

It's like time stops, the pair of eyes connected. Bella's mouth drops open and she is revisited by the grief of finding him gone, the resolve that he would come back for her, and then the renewed grief when so much time passed that Bella could only assume the worst. What else could she think but that he was dead, given the way they'd whispered sweet nothings and traded soft touches only to be met with silence, even after the war ended?

Cristoval is clearly restraining himself within propriety - taking measured steps around the room to close the distance between them. Bella hasn't found it in herself to move, barely even blinking as he finally comes to a stop in front of her. The emotions inside of her continue to storm, especially as she can now see the relief and affection in his eyes. Clearly, time hasn't changed anything for either of them. Except time has also changed everything.

"Isabel," He breathes out her name like it's reverent, falling into a bow as he reaches for her hand. Bella, pointedly, offers her right - if only to save him for a moment longer.

"Cristoval," She can barely speak, words caugh in her throat in shock and grief and despair. Still bent, he brings her hand to his lips, eyes trained on her face. He won't find it to have changed at all in the last six years - unlike his own, more weathered now. More handsome. The kiss he bestows on her hand is just this side of proper, and Bella lets out a small exhale. "I- I thought you were dead."

Slowly he lets go of her hand - he's been holding it too long, and people will start to take notice. Bella can't help it though, letting it linger in the air between them for a moment longer, as if simply closing the distance will be enough.

[fairytaletold]

‘You must be lonely.’

‘More than anything. More than hunger. Even hunger sometimes goes away, but this doesn’t.’

— Rachel Ingalls, Mrs. Caliban

[fairytaletold]

well. bisexuality and vampirism

[fairytaletold]

[fairytaletold]

i get mean when i’m nervous like a bad dog

Unknown/@papayajuan2019/a hero of our time - mikhail lermontov/poor things (2023)/ @sarakleijn/venetta octavia/ @papayajuan2019/@ https.c0rps3 on instagram/cop car - mitski

[fairytaletold]

what the fuck is the matter with you?

youre gonna have to elaborate

[fairytaletold]

put those big brown eyes away dude now is NOT the time

[fairytaletold]

JAMES MCAVOY as David Percival ATOMIC BLONDE | dir. David Leitch (2017)