lordofthestrix
Lord Of The Strix
Independent and selective Tristan de Martel of "The Originals" Written by Lex. 21+
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I’ve always wanted to be liked. It grieved me that I was treated with indifference.
"I inferred as much long ago."
Tristan's study remained fixed on the view from Lucien's penthouse.
"Do you ever wake up at night, terrified at the grotesque feeling that you never changed professions?"
Slowly, inhabiting a sort of pensive leisure, he finally turned to face him.
"You have taken from this world a fair bite of the superficiality it has to offer. You accumulated wealth and reputation while labouring to claim a place in the literal incarnation of one of those ivory towers you always claimed to so vehemently despise when talking about others. Still, there is more to the accomplishments of a man than plain appearances. The devil inhabits the details. And I do have to wonder…How many masters rule you these days?" A meaningful look accompanied the question.
"The men bellow who held your fortune and success in such high regard…Can you truly say they are the ones beneath you if your heart so longs for their praise? Does it not corrupt all your work into the efforts of a trained seal performing tricks for their approval? A puppet, given a toy crown and throne, is not any less of a puppet, Lucien. The strings on your shoulders are endless. Even mortals hold your leash as you silently scream your pleas. Like me. Respect me. Fear me. Love me." Steps given in peculiar respite began cutting the talking distance between them.
"Can you say that my sister is no longer your master as you desperately pretend not to see the ways in which she makes use of you? Can you say that I'm no longer your master? Which competing fantasy recurs more frequently? The one where you violently murder me after our shared project is over? Or the one where I realize in shame that I was wrong about you?"
He stood in front of the other vampire. Impassive.
"There is a force marking our path far greater than what even the most gifted seers can see. Your Alexis. My Ariane. Our essence, Lucien. Our essence, our character is fate. No one should understand that better than us given our shared past. Among our few and far between points of similarity lays a shared belief in the power to reinvent ourselves, stronger than we were. But we are blacksmiths, not alchemists. It is imperative to take into account the quality of the primordial material we are working with. At the end of the day, regardless of circumstance, Tristan de Martel will remain Tristan de Martel. I know well how to gain power from that, even under the most grievous hardship. At the end of the day Lucien Castle will remain Lucien Castle. And I suspect that for all your cretinous narcissism and megalomania…A part of you has always been afraid of discovering what that will mean in the end."
The visit from his hand was sudden, brief and calm. A couple of fingers tracing both sides of Lucien's lips. Drawing a bloody smile that was no longer there. And yet it remained.
Tristan watched him still for a brief second. Serene and unreadable.
Indifferent.
He walked past him.
@kingmakercastle
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I will have you without armour, Tristan. Or I will not have you at all
"Let it be not at all, then."
The audacity of her ignited hatred. Not directed at her. Even now he remained either incapable or unwilling to hate her. In heart and body he would lay his life down for her protection if his actions to the cursed healing of Lucien were any indication. Even now he didn't care for her any less. And so further hatred coursed through his veins. Aimless and scorching.
"How strange it is to hear a plea for sincerity from the shadow that hides from my eyes. From the lips protecting from me the secrets of the demons among us. If honesty is truly your banner..." Self-punishment demanded words he didn't yearn to pronounce. Answers he didn't yearn to listen. "What would you have done if that repulsive cumberworld had ended my life? Seek confort in the arms of my strangler? Or am I worthy enough of your affection as to merit a couple of days angered at your foul creature before joyous reconciliación? Is that where the hours of this evening will guide you, sister? To seek sympathy for my cruelty in his company?" Wild frenzy burnt in his eyes. And he loathed as well dealing with its cause and the only one he was unwilling to make it manifest with.
"You betray me in ways I never had the knowledge any soul had the power to. In ways that will never occur again. You have my love, Aurora. You no longer have my trust."
There were other words. Poisonous. Roaring in thunderous passion to be clamoured. And for a sinister moment he felt hope in choosing the right sentences to see her come undone. Not out of malice but desperation. If by not other method possible, to prove only he knew what wicked sentences she would never forget. Maybe if he dragged her to his hell she would understand. She appeared to be fond enough of fiends.
No. Not to her. Never to her.
Tristan said nothing.
"Leave my sight." The son of the Count commanded.
Stay
Stay, I implore you.
Even if the mere sight of you destroys me...Please stay.
Tristan closed the door behind him.
@ladamedemartel
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"One fated day, the merry group crossed paths with something more notable than another aimless tradesman. Traveling nobles whose blood was soon spilled in the name of their hunger. And hiding from the carnage inside their carriage, a trembling figure. Once discovered by the creatures, he explained that he served at a nearby castle. That it had been his failed duty to escort those guests there. He begged for his life. Pleaded to be spared and in desperation, offered to guide and assist them usurping the identities of their last meal in exchange for his safety. The Original family had suffered more than they could bear living in the wild between spaces. They saw an opportunity to confuse their hunter. The monsters accepted the deal that the coward proposed. And so I reckon this is my time to join the tale." The regal flourish of his hand, medieval and sharp in its transience, preceded anything her human days would have seen.
"As a mortal, I was the eldest son and heir to the Count of Marseilles. They were masquerading as nobles when you met them, were they not? A trick they first learned within the walls of my home. The day we met, they were bowing to my father while costumed in the garments of their fallen victims. And so it was that they lived in our court for a short while. Adapting, some better than others, to varying degrees of success. Assisted by the servant or not, some of their manners were rare but so was the norm for plenty of those who hadn't seen so many social affairs before. Their thirst was harder to hide. For a vampire that knows nothing of compulsion or friends willing to share an open vein, every bite must be a kill. Soon, whispered rumors began spreading among our servants. Of demons hunting in the night. My father payed them no mind. Death was a common visitor back then. But, as already established, I always had a fondness for an interesting tale." He took a moment of pause. As if capturing a particular moment.
"She was...Memorably pretty. I can still recall that about the servant girl my investigations unveiled. The one who greeted me in the path of what I would become. It is perfectly notable, is it not? How stubbornly a charming gaze can echo throughout the ages?" Tristan looked at her in the eyes in amused complicity. "Some gentle persuasion convinced her to reveal that she was the only known survivor of the mysterious attacks. And that the creature that attacked her was the living reflection of Lord Kol with the face of a beast."
Oh he is fascinating. And terrifying. The way he's picking up on details she wasn't even aware she was giving. You see Katherine had chosen that story specifically, because it was a tale of her triumph (however momentarily) over Klaus. To have his brother choose to keep her secret over loyalty to his brother's interests was a large victory on her part. Though now that he mentioned it, she had picked a victory involving romance. Noted for her own personal growth.
You see that was a huge part of Katherine's skill, learning from her mistakes, and bettering her abilities. That is how the fox outran the hound for five hundred years.
For a moment, the doppelganger kept a smug tightness in her chest, keeping the fact that she thought she'd gotten away with lying off of her face. There's no sense in a victory quickly forfeited by arrogance- she was sure he'd agree.
Unfortunately as she sat, poised and listening, he did bring up her lie.
Brows rose, and she couldnt help the smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth. He caught it. It had been such a mundane lie, told with such a nonchalant air it really shouldnt have been on anyone's radar and YET.
The way he chose to reveal her lie held a certain showmanship that both irritated her and impressed the younger vampire, but she was in no position to start picking fights over an arrogant air he's clearly earned. It didn't stop the subtle twitch of irritation though.
"Fair enough." Or the slightly more dry tone she used to respond. "Regale me with the humble beginnings of the worlds most fucked up family."
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For the sake of science as well as my random curiosity:
What kind of job can your muse see Tristan having if the extremely normal options of nobleman and leader of a secret society were not available?
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Aya & Tristan
A short study in plotting and scheming with someone for centuries.
I realized that I don't mention Tristan's right hand all that frequently, so this is a post offering some appreciation for that connection. Because I do think that they are quite interesting to think about in some respects. In a universe where most of the significant relationships between immortals that we delve into are primary rooted in familiar bonds, profound romance or hate and animosity, these two are part of just a handful of cases where there are different foundations involved.
As cold as the two of them can be, the relationship is always alluded to with certain gravitas by the two of them and by others. equally
This is Elijah talking about Aya in the episode where she is introduced:
ELIJAH: Aya. Let me guess-- Five-foot-seven, built like a goddess, vicious as a viper?
Now this is Elijah talking about Aya in relation to Tristan during the same episode:
ELIJAH: You waltz into my city unannounced with your flock of sycophants flaunting news of a threat. All the while, your little lapdog Aya is conspiring with none other than Marcel Gerard.
A snide description and intended as such, obviously. But it is curious to see Elijah of all people reducing his former romantic partner, and one he does show to have some complicated feelings towards during the season, to Tristan's lapdog as his way of showing his contempt. It legitimizes the significance of that connection as something noticeably more than superficial.
Aya is consistently shown as a paladin and pretty much the greatest defender for Tristan's vision for the Strix:
AYA: The oldest society of vampires this world has ever known. We are called The Strix.
ELIJAH: Quite the prestigious organization! Responsible for countless wars, numerous plagues, assassinations...
AYA: You have to break rules if you want to build a new world.
--
AYA: One of our more famous faces. We count amongst our society celebrated actors, artists, politicians... Of course, most of us prefer to live a life outside of the public eye. That doesn't make our talents any less impressive.
--
AYA: We're the top of the food chain-- the smartest, the strongest. And, we take what we want.
Added to this, she also presents herself as a steadfast advocate for Tristan himself. Both before and after the ocean:
AYA: Tristan has been a collector of extraordinary talent for the better part of a millennium. He chooses the best of the best and helps them evolve.
..
AYA: Tristan de Martel guided this organization for centuries. He was a radical thinker, decisive leader, and, to each of us here tonight, both mentor and friend. He was, in a word, irreplaceable.
--
AYA: But I did not die! Thanks to the efforts of a true nobleman. Tristan saved us! He earned our loyalty.
Tristan, in turn, deposits an intrinsic level of trust in her, not something by any means easily earned from him, even when dangerous circumstances retain him from heading the group:
ELIJAH: The alternative is significantly less pleasant.
TRISTAN: I think I will hold off on any confessions. At least until my Strix arrive to free me and burn your home to the ground...
Holding no shadow of doubt that someone will provide a valiant rescue from the Original family doesn't involve a small degree of trust. And speaking of that episode it does have one of the most important if subtle moments between them.
Tristan spent the episode from torture to torture. Aya spent it trying to make the goal of forcefully saving him from the Mikaelsons not a suicide mission. When she succeeds, he simply looks at her in mild frustration. And goes:
TRISTAN: It took you long enough.
Aya smiles at him. And that is the moment you receive the strangest "another hard Monday at the office uh?" vibe emanating from them. In that moment you fully believe that yes. These two, cold as they may be, have been having adventures together for centuries by this point.
And that is their general impression when they are together. In the little looks they hunt for in the other. In the way they play out of the other as if they were the two on the know whenever they reach the stage.
They are a pretty fun duo.
#Aya Al-Rashid#Tristan de Martel#I'm considering making this into a series going over other connections.#But Lucien is a minefield#Elijah is complicated as well as contradictory#And Aurora would involve me writing at least six or seven novels to discuss all the things I want to talk about.#So I'm unsure at the moment.#If you are reading this for some reason let me know if you would like to read even more of me incoherently rambling about anything specific
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🌺 send this to blogs you think are wonderful 🌺
You have no right to think that. I have been painfully slow answering our common threads. But thank you dearly for your persistent blindness of judgement in my favor! You are always awfully pleasant.
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My grief wasn’t deep or poetic. It was sinister in its simplicity
"At its simplest expression, grief is a lament over the dead." A sharp graveness poisoned his voice as it was often the case when Aurora's reminiscences visited the chapters inked in her suffering.
"Who were you mourning, sister?" Not father, I presume. The others? I suppose you could have. I suppose I did as well to some extent. There were some flavoursome portrayals in the play of our human lives. Friendly chats. Heated rivalries. The recollection of a particularly honorable guard. Shards of memory paying homage to the long departed by the time our true past became clear. And yet, without rejection or disdain, how replaceable I finally understood their roles to be once I began becoming once again. There could have been different voices. Different friends. Different adversaries. For all variations, I would have been the same at my core. The one exception, the other half of me I could never be without, still shared the confusión of that revelation at my side. And I am not of the belief that her regard or pain over those those occupying supporting roles was greater than mine."
The third option, the only one that mattered, arrived after a pensive instant of silent regard.
"Yourself then? Was that who the requiems of your suffering called for?"
It was veiled in silence that he approached her. Veiled in silence that he took her hand in his, as if the union itself was a caress basking in the most scorching intimacy.
"You must know that the most diabolical torments, the most excruciating pandemoniums I consider and imagine for Elijah the day old debts are repaid carry and have always carried your signature as their inspiring muse. You must know that I won't permit the world to deny your lips a thousand ravaging melodies of laughter for every second of pain you experienced. But of far more significance than either of those, there is something else you must know." He reached for her chin in gentle, firm emphasis.
"That lady I talked to you about? My irreplaceable other half? She stands in front of me still. Profound as her hardships were. Sinister as her anguish was. Complex as the repercussions still may be sometimes... She remains her. You. Despite everything, you are still you." Tristan promised in loving candor as his hand visited her cheek.
"Exceedingly understandable at the time. But one shouldn't grieve for the living. And there is no mortal or inmortal soul more alive than you, my darling."
@ladamedemartel
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⌛- Ask me anything about my muse or about how I run this blog hour
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𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.
All sentences are taken from different sources and area blend of questions, angst, affirmations and reassurance, heartbreak, the past, the future and self assurance. Change names, pronouns, locations and more as you see fit.
If I keep loving you, maybe you'll eventually crack and love me too.
I'm pretty sure you're already half in love with me.
I don't think you're evil.
See? Things are already looking promising.
Are these things really better than the things I already have?
Was it all in my head?
You’re even more painful to look at than she is.
I'm hoping he can save me, even though I realize he can't.
You were the only one I saw when I closed my eyes.
Then why wasn't I enough when they were open?
I wonder how you say goodbye to someone forever?
Are you seriously in this much self-denial, Sydney? Like do you actually believe yourself when you say you don’t feel anything?
Physical attraction isn’t the same as love. You of all people should know that.
Is that what bothers you? My past?
You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hate you and then you give me a reason to love you.
Two lifetimes, they belong to you. No regrets.
You're not nothing to me. That's precisely the problem.
Are you so stupid you don't know what I'm going to do to you?
Are you so stupid you haven't figured out yet that it doesn't matter?
When it comes to love, Princess, rules blur, and traditions fade.
I just wanted…
Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me.
Yes. I remember.
They got him. The Hallows got him.
You’re kidding? No one expects decorum from me.
...But how is there glory in taking a life? We die so easily.
You'll really start to hate me.
Tell me who did this, and I will take care of it. Anyone who thought they could lay a hand on you should fear for their life.
I can't tell whose the bigger monster. Him. Or Me.
You do have a tender heart. It almost makes me want to spare you, just so I don’t have to watch it break.
In the parallel lines to the roads of life, I'm glad ours intersected twice.
Sometimes I feel like you've given up. It's like you just accept this as your fate.
This, us, it can’t happen. It can't happen, Avery. I've seen the way Jameson looks at you.
At least I do not deny my own heart.
You’re not living to live—you’re living for death.
I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.
I want him to hurt. To bleed. I want him to snap, just like he snapped me.
If you really don't want me- no other excuses, just me- just tell me right now, and I'll leave and we'll be done.
Otherwise, start getting used to the fucking fact that you can't protect me from everything. And I'm not made of glass.
This house bleeds memories.
I don’t need your permission.
Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.
My grief wasn’t deep or poetic. It was sinister in its simplicity.
He is in love with you.
Why won't anyone take me...when someone decides to go I will always be left behind.
You don't believe me or my words, do you?
I never said you didn't have a heart. But it would be nice if it beat every now and then.
You loved me.
I think you know in your heart that you’re meant for something extraordinary.
What does your heart tell you you’re meant for?
Somebody's got to win this war, right?
I am faithless. I have done unforgivable things. And I am broken.
You are a soldier. A fighter. And now you must fight. Not for the emperor, not for France . . . but for yourself.
You are my first choice. You're my only choice.
I always say the wrong things.
Why I acted the way I did…Why I was so pissed off. It will never make any sense to you because I don’t know how to explain.
You can't live your life based on 'what-ifs,' Liv.
You weren't listening to me.
That's an interesting way to get my attention.
I’m not the enemy. I’m not the kind of guy who would try to hurt you more when I know you’re already hurting, but I’m someone willing to hear you and understand you.
We cannot win if we fight among ourselves.
I’ve always wanted to be liked. It grieved me that I was treated with indifference.
A united front announcing a split.
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"And so you decided to place a friend of your family in the not so envious position of harboring their runaway daughter." The prospect of meddling in these prosaic human squabbles wasn't terribly appealing. Although there was a picturesque quality to the bundle of fury that knocked at his door. Diffused, disjointed memories of the three or four undesirable unions his long departed father arranged, all of them interpreted as challenges for him to undo, visited with an odd sense of nostalgia, echoing her present. If nothing else, he could appreciate the girl's bravery.
"Your manners are atrociously lacking today, Miss Capulet." Tristan coldly chastised. Observing her in contemplation for a mesurad moment. "Making quite easy for me to tell you…That you are very much lucky I enjoy your spirit." He insinuated with the fleeting shadow of a smirk. A welcome.
"There are a couple of unoccupied guest rooms waiting for you in the east wing. You can claim whichever you prefer for now." Tristan allowed, turning back. His arm gallantly indicated a corridor. "If you encounter an orangery where a group of ladies cloaked in black commune, it means you went too far." A teasing tone refused to reveal if he was joking or not. "Go leave that questionably small luggage of yours and then we can talk about what happened. Would you care for something to drink?"
open starter: juliet capulet.
her bio is in the source!
"my parents want me marry paris. and i don't want to. i barely know him!" juliet's never been this angry before. she thought she had more time and, eventually, her father would be on her side rather than her mother's. even her own cousin, who was always on her side, was telling her to consider it. "and if you call them and tell them i'm here, i will never talk to you again. i swear." juliet started to take her backpack off her back. "so where can i put my stuff?"
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❝ the world was made so we can find each other in it. ❞ (olga)
"With what cruel callousness fate's machinations imposed centuries of waiting upon me, if that is the truth."
"Tell me more of this adventure the world was made to tell."
A simple request. Vehemently revealing. The role of storyteller he so often found himself occupying be it for pleasure or convenience. This time freely offered to her.
"What do those lovely eyes see? What happens now?"
@noblehcart
#Noblehcart#Writing this in the middle of a night of insomnia and only posting it because you are away this week.#So I will be able to revise it before your return.#If you are reading this? Assume I already edited this at least three or four times.
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#SOMETIMES I THINK ABT ALL THE RELATIONSHIPS OUR MUSES HAVE HAD AND I HAVE TO ADMIT
#THAT I THINK MARGOT AND TRISTAN'S ARE THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST MOST TRUSTING AND EARNEST
#IDK THERE'S SOMETHING ABT THEIR MUTUAL INSANE CLEVERNESS THAT BOILS DOWN TO RIDICULOUSLY SWEET
#VERY PLATONICALLY IN LOVE IN THE BEST WAY
#SHE LOVES HIM AS MUCH AS ARMAND <3
Personally, I suspect at least 90% of the credit for their friendship belongs to Marguerite.
Most people like Marguerite (Although I still maintain that there are more than a few female members of Tristan's Strix that can't hear her moniker as "the cleverest woman in Europe.” without rolling their eyes at her in passionate competition)
In contrast...Do you have any idea of how hard it is to establish a friendship with Tristan that can be called sweet, trusting and earnest?
Some of your muses are passionate fans of a challenge.
@noblehcart
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"And yet…Your body leans towards me at the beckoning of names that summon darkness to your eyes and unnerve your memories." He mirrored her approach. Cutting further distance between them in teasing exhibition. "Most people, you see… They distance themselves from danger and grief. So you will have to forgive me if I maintain my first impression of you." He observed her still. At close range. Exploring her eyes for the unreadable world of a moment before an amused, soft snicker marked his depart.
"If it serves you as consolation I'm similarly troubled by your deductions. Why, I'm almost insulted." His tone, in contrast exhibited a dark sense of undisclosed entertainment.
"There is more to the worth of a monster than the hazard of his claws and fangs, Elena Gilbert. I imagine he must look like a terrifying nightmare to you. And Klaus is indeed powerful. Only a fool would proclaim otherwise. More so now that your blood set him free. Dangerous as well. In all the simple ways in which a rabid mongrel with an apetite and the basic low cunning age provides is. Still, none of these qualities make him any less of a pathetic, little creature. So no. I'm not in any way allied, much less seeking the approval, of such filth. For all his aspirations to kingship, in the entirety of his eternity, he earned the long lasting loyalty of no one. He is nothing. And since we are beginning to know each other, I believe it is relevant for you to know I don't associate myself with the mediocre." Elijah was another story altogether as far as the merits of a foe were concerned. Sadly he was absent from the board at the moment.
"Given that you are so preoccupied with his looming silhouette, I do have some news involving him that could be of interest. Because you are mistaken in that respect as well, I am afraid. What you perceive as the ruins of your life? No. When it comes to conclusions to your first chapter with the Original family, the tragic death of an aunt and the loss of a lover constitute an easy outcome. It could get imaginably worse from here if you fail to find a new approach to your unfortunate importance in their affairs."
His accent was richer than she had first realised, his eyes dark and glittering as they took her in. She scoffed at his words, convoluted and yet, conveying what any other vampire would say too. "Answering my call? I wasn't here to wait for the things lurking in the shadows," and yet, despite her words, her heart skipped a beat. Doubt began to creep into the corners of her mind like fog. She had been spending her night in the cemetery though she knew about the risk of vampires, of even Klaus showing up.
And now, he had.
"I came here because," suddenly, she was bereft of words. The need to avoid his accusation rang clear within her mind but the thought of explaining her grief and loneliness was enough to give her hives. "Well, not that it matters, but I came to visit my parents."
She shook her head at his words, wondering what his real goal was. Then, with a suddenness that surprised her, he grasped her hand, his lips touching the back of it. Reminding her of when Damon had done it too. She tilted her head in momentary curiosity, before trying to shrug it off.
"Elijah?" The name piqued her curiosity again, making her lean towards him, as if she were about to whisper something, "you know Elijah? And Klaus?" Something dark crept within her as spoke the hybrids name - fear and guilt swirling within her, anger rising as she shook her head and pulled back.
"So, I'm guessing you want to take me back to Klaus. Tell him I'm still alive," bitterness coloured her voice as she remembered just how many people had tried to kidnap her to hand her over to Klaus like an offering. A bargaining chip. Her life ruined just so someone could earn a favour from Klaus. "Do you want a favour from him? Or do you want forgiveness? What does he have over you? I wonder if you'll even have the decency to tell me before you ruin whatever's left of my life."
@lordofthestrix
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Cards laid on the table and her play made. Tristan relished in the small flourishes of her performance without any sign of apology. Sometimes he would wonder if she knew. Her games could vary from invisible and intricate to boldly direct but either way the unearthly vibrancy remained. Did she know that her every turn, even the ones deprived of any conscious showmanship, was bathed in the flame that writers and musician had endlessly sought to capture for a single paragraph or melody for the entirety of mortal lives? Tristan had told her as much. And still he wondered if she realized how fatally the Charites would leave their thrones empty and disgraced at the first sight of her.
"You overestimate the arduousness of my intentions." His hand recaptured one half of her slashed prop and elevated it to gently touch a side of head. "You look like the most impossible marvel I have ever seen" His gaze agreed with his words. A shade of complicit game visiting his tone. "...With half a hat in the shape of a bucket on your head."
Their little game had opened with her bid for his attention, and now it was her turn to make a move once again. If she allowed him to put the ghastly creation atop her head, he would undoubtedly assure her of her beauty, even in spite of the hat, insist that she looked ravishing in everything that she wore, but Aurora was not certain that was the game that she wished to play at the present. "Tristan, you know that I loathe when you lie to me. I will not force you to struggle to try to compliment me in this." she plucked the hat from his hand and promptly tore it in two. "Instead, I think that we should go off in search of something that suits me better." Or perhaps condemn the poor shop girl to some wretched fate for recommending the hat in the first place.
@lordofthestrix
#Ladamedemartel#A reaffirmation of all the wishes sent your way in that letter in the middle of the week.#And an addition of my desire for you to have a fantastic weekend!
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𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍.
All these sentences were found on pinterests about romance, longing, pinning, sweet whispering, dirty talk and intimacy. Those that are intimate and smutty are label as such so please beware. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.
For former lovers, separation and the longing:
I wish we never met, you are too hard to forget.
You don’t even know how beautiful you are.
You broke my heart. You killed me.
I just miss you all the time.
There is only one heart in this body. Have mercy on me.
For you it’s all just a game, isn’t it?
We all have our seasons, my issue is that all remind me of you.
I’m jealous of everyone who can see you everyday.
We will meet again in our dreams.
Perhaps in another life. . .we would’ve worked.
I don’t care how complicated this gets.
I wish you loved me like I love you.
Am I not good enough for you?
I wish it was easier to hate you.
Just because I let you go doesn't mean I wanted to.
Please stop making me think you are in love with me.
What is this? Whatever we have, it’s not longer simple.
You knew I loved you and you broke my heart anyways.
You left. I woke up one day and you were gone. Not even a goodbye.
I love you and it’s killing me.
Come back alive and I’ll say it. Come back to me and I’ll say anything you want.
I’ll wait for you, but don’t take forever.
I wish I had met you a long time ago.
You are putting words in my mouth.
I might be heartless but you are naive.
You’re right I don’t want to feel anything.
You are scared of the way I make you feel.
I have loved you since we were children.
Stop denying what happened between us.
You keep saying it was just an affair. But it wasn’t.
Who hurt you?
I’ll always find you.
Wherever you are, if you need me, I will find you. If you need me.
You don't need to say a word. I never expected you to feel the same.
Intimacy between lovers, nsft:
You can control what I eat, what I wear, who I talk to.
Good girl, you are taking it so well.
You are making me proud.
This is just for you.
You're taking it so good.
Eyes on me while I fuck you, baby.
You like that, uh?
Lift your hips for me, love.
Mine. Only fucking mine.
If you can still walk, then we are not finished.
You say we are friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste.
Dirty and loyal, that’s my girl.
You deserve to be fucked until you can’t stand up.
Shh, just a bit more. That’s it.
There you go, that’s a good girl.
We have to be careful, we can’t fall in love.
I’m going to eat you up.
I’ll do things you never forget.
We are lovers, we can’t stop loving.
You little aristocrat, I want to fuck you. Teach you things, humiliate you.
I never stopped wanted you. I want you now so bad.
Maybe I should get on my knees and worship you.
Lift up your dress.
You don’t need pleasure, you need shivers.
I want you in my mouth.
Tie me up, tell me I’m yours, take control.
You got to be quiet or someone will hear you.
Does it get you wet? That someone might walk in?
Bend over, hands on the bed.
Brace yourself on the wall.
Are you going to come for me?
Come inside me, please.
You like a gentleman who knows how not to be gentle.
I can’t hate you. Not like this. Not now.
The taste of you is so addictive.
Do you want me to turn over? Take me from behind?
Oh, I thought you were mad at me.
Wet my fingers for me, sweetheart.
Use that mouth of yours.
Move with me, grind on it.
Did he ever touched you like this?
Don’t let a single drop go to waste.
Strip for me.
Do you let all your enemies fuck you like this?
Open up for me.
Don’t come until I give you permission.
Have I not been a good girl?
I learn fast. Does that feel good?
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Don't be melodramatic. Look down there.
(Long shot from Martins' eye line of the fairground far below and the people now on it.)
Would you feel any pity if one of those…dots stopped moving forever?
Harry Lime - The Third Man.
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“my heart beats for you in languages that don't exist.”
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