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March 16 - April 18, 2024
This young man was going to ruin the girl that worked inside the shop.
Unlike most humans, this shopgirl had grown up around oddities— and the bell had long suspected she was a curiosity as well, though it couldn’t figure out exactly what sort.
All stories are made of both truths and lies, she used to say. What matters is the way that we believe in them.
Always promise less than you can give, for Fates always take more. Do not make bargains with more than one Fate. And, above all, never fall in love with a Fate.
She could picture him flashing those deceptive dimples as he tricked an angel into losing its wings just so he could play with the feathers. “It’s you,” she whispered. “You’re the Prince of Hearts.”
“People who don’t like me call me Jacks.”
But she knew that if she stayed and made a deal with Jacks, he would forever destroy some other part of her.
“I don’t know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it’s already yours.”
Jacks had stopped the wedding by turning everyone to stone.
The Fates weren’t dangerous because they were evil; the Fates were dangerous because they couldn’t tell the difference between evil and good.
“You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to be the hero, you want the happy ending— that’s why you came to me. If you do this, that will never happen. Heroes don’t get happy endings. They give them to other people. Is that what you really want?”
But as hopeful as Evangeline was, she knew the Prince of Hearts wasn’t a savior. He was the one people needed saving from.
And then … Evangeline felt something that was not heartbreak or regret.
But if you desire a chance at happiness, fight the pull— Jacks will only lead to your destruction.”
“I know that stories often take on lives of their own. I already feel as if the horror I went through is turning into a fairytale, but I’m nothing special, and this is not a fairytale.”
If storms were made of scandal sheets, queues of gentlemen dressed with starched cravats, and notes of questionable origins, then the perfect storm was brewing in Evangeline’s world the next morning. She just didn’t know this yet.
But hope is a difficult thing to kill, just a spark of it can start a fire,
If he loved you back, he wouldn’t be marrying someone else. End of story.
“I believe there are far more possibilities than happily ever after or tragedy. Every story has the potential for infinite endings.”
it was tremendously hard to fully fall out of love with someone when you had no one else to love instead.
not all loves happened at first; some took time to grow like seeds, or they might be like bulbs, dormant until the right season approached.
He was a thousand cuts happening all at once. Devastation made of hair as blue as dark ocean waves, and lips sharp as cracked glass that would delightedly cut her.
