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[SR] Philip Roth quote
Aug. 2nd, 2009 05:23 pm[Set about three years ago. Grace = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heirtothe_chief, everyone else is an NPC.]
“No matter how much you know, no matter how much you think, no matter how much you plot and you connive and you plan, you're not superior to sex. It's a very risky game. A man wouldn't have two-thirds of the problems he has if he didn't venture off to get fucked.”
She didn’t say anything.
She was tired of saying something. Tired of thinking that he was actually listening, and tired of pretending that she didn’t care. She was tired of pretending to be okay with the way things were, and what this man—this man who she thought loved her—expected her to be able to just swallow this and deal with it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t just accept that he was always going to want other women more than he wanted her. That their marriage was looking to be one of convenience as oppose to love. That he wanted her family’s status more than he wanted an actual relationship with her.
She couldn’t be her mother. She didn’t want to be her mother.
He and the current bimbo were frozen, staring at her, and she just looked right back. She could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to find an explanation for their current predicament but she didn’t speak until her masochism reached its limit and she had to look away or she was going to fall apart, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Felicity—”
( *** )
785 words
heirtothe_chief, everyone else is an NPC.]“No matter how much you know, no matter how much you think, no matter how much you plot and you connive and you plan, you're not superior to sex. It's a very risky game. A man wouldn't have two-thirds of the problems he has if he didn't venture off to get fucked.”
She didn’t say anything.
She was tired of saying something. Tired of thinking that he was actually listening, and tired of pretending that she didn’t care. She was tired of pretending to be okay with the way things were, and what this man—this man who she thought loved her—expected her to be able to just swallow this and deal with it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t just accept that he was always going to want other women more than he wanted her. That their marriage was looking to be one of convenience as oppose to love. That he wanted her family’s status more than he wanted an actual relationship with her.
She couldn’t be her mother. She didn’t want to be her mother.
He and the current bimbo were frozen, staring at her, and she just looked right back. She could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to find an explanation for their current predicament but she didn’t speak until her masochism reached its limit and she had to look away or she was going to fall apart, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Felicity—”
( *** )
785 words
[JP] Titanic quote
Jul. 29th, 2009 03:20 am“They've got you trapped, Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong but, sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose. That fire's gonna burn out.”
Life wasn’t a fairy tale.
Felicity knew that, she’d know that since she was nine. It was painstakingly obvious in the world they lived in, and while she had her big brother and sister who still tried to shade her from everything else, that didn’t stop the pain she felt when she lost people close to her. It was another example of how her father wasn’t the hero that she thought he was. He didn’t have magic hands that could save everyone and that cut her to the core more than anything else.
It didn’t mean she didn’t stop searching for it, though. She tried her best to do all the right things, shoving the person she was under the person she was supposed to be, like the bulky sweats that her parents would make her wear under her Halloween costumes when the New Jersey autumns got too chilly. The beautiful façade on the outside covering the bulges that weren’t supposed to be there, and she knew, she just knew that if she could just push through the bad stuff, she could get that happily ever after and all would be well again.
( *** )
535 words
Life wasn’t a fairy tale.
Felicity knew that, she’d know that since she was nine. It was painstakingly obvious in the world they lived in, and while she had her big brother and sister who still tried to shade her from everything else, that didn’t stop the pain she felt when she lost people close to her. It was another example of how her father wasn’t the hero that she thought he was. He didn’t have magic hands that could save everyone and that cut her to the core more than anything else.
It didn’t mean she didn’t stop searching for it, though. She tried her best to do all the right things, shoving the person she was under the person she was supposed to be, like the bulky sweats that her parents would make her wear under her Halloween costumes when the New Jersey autumns got too chilly. The beautiful façade on the outside covering the bulges that weren’t supposed to be there, and she knew, she just knew that if she could just push through the bad stuff, she could get that happily ever after and all would be well again.
( *** )
535 words
Felicity pushed away from the computer before making her way to the front of the house. True, this was her parent's house, but Chief and Mrs. Braddock had just left town for a week in Bermuda, so she had the giant estate all to herself. Which made it ideal for clandestine trysts with presumably sexy boys from the internet. She'd seen pictures -- Grace had snatched one on her camera phone and Felicity had to say -- she liked what she saw.
Making her way back to her bedroom, she started to let her hand reach for the back of her skirt, dragging down the zipper and kicking it to the floor at the foot of the stairs. Next was followed by her heels, left on intervals on the stairs and then a trail of clothing leading right back to her bedroom. If the boy was any kind of smart, he could follow her lead.
Her panties hit the floor at the doorway to her bedroom, before she slid back slowly on her bed. As she leaned back into the pillows, she let her hands run over her body, and pretty soon she was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn't care if he actually showed or not. If he didn't take the bait -- his loss, not hers.
Making her way back to her bedroom, she started to let her hand reach for the back of her skirt, dragging down the zipper and kicking it to the floor at the foot of the stairs. Next was followed by her heels, left on intervals on the stairs and then a trail of clothing leading right back to her bedroom. If the boy was any kind of smart, he could follow her lead.
Her panties hit the floor at the doorway to her bedroom, before she slid back slowly on her bed. As she leaned back into the pillows, she let her hands run over her body, and pretty soon she was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn't care if he actually showed or not. If he didn't take the bait -- his loss, not hers.
