Nessie_Brookes

this message may be offensive 
Isolde's life is about to change but we don'tknow if it's for the best:
          	
          	Doll House:
          	
          	New chapter will be out soon. Vote, comment and support if you lile it <3
          	
          	He laughs, low and cruel, and hits again—harder, fingers splaying to smack my asshole dead-center through the fabric, the sting like shattered glass grinding inside me. Slap after torturous slap, each one grinding deeper, splitting skin, my screams turning hoarse, animalistic—every jolt making stars explode behind my eyes while I buck helplessly over his shoulder.
          	
          	“Stop struggling,” one of them says. “You chose this.”
          	
          	I didn’t choose anything.
          	
          	I reach back blindly, fingers grasping air, as our home disappears behind us—our door hanging crooked, our walls broken, my mother on the ground with her arms outstretched like she can still reach me.
          	
          	“Mama!” I scream until my throat burns.
          	
          	Damien doesn’t slow.
          	
          	He carries me out of Greybelt, out of the only life I’ve ever known, while the night swallows my cries whole. My body goes numb. My thoughts splinter. I stop fighting—not because I want to, but because my strength gives out.
          	
          	They shove me into the van.
          	
          	Metal floor. No windows. The door slams shut with a sound so final it feels like a verdict.
          	
          	The world jolts as the engine starts.
          	
          	I don’t scream anymore.
          	
          	I think something inside me has slipped loose—like a thread pulled too hard, snapping quietly. My body is here, knees pulled to my chest, wrists burning where hands held me—but I am floating somewhere above it, watching a girl who looks like me breathe too fast.
          	
          	Too loud.
          	
          	Too broken.
          	
          	The van smells like oil and rust and old fear. I press my forehead to my knees and stare at a dark stain on the floor. I decide it’s not blood. I decide nothing bad has ever happened here. I decide a lot of things that aren’t true.
          	
          	Mama’s face keeps flashing in my mind.
          	
          	Atlas’s voice.
          	
          	Then nothing.

Nessie_Brookes

this message may be offensive 
Isolde's life is about to change but we don'tknow if it's for the best:
          
          Doll House:
          
          New chapter will be out soon. Vote, comment and support if you lile it <3
          
          He laughs, low and cruel, and hits again—harder, fingers splaying to smack my asshole dead-center through the fabric, the sting like shattered glass grinding inside me. Slap after torturous slap, each one grinding deeper, splitting skin, my screams turning hoarse, animalistic—every jolt making stars explode behind my eyes while I buck helplessly over his shoulder.
          
          “Stop struggling,” one of them says. “You chose this.”
          
          I didn’t choose anything.
          
          I reach back blindly, fingers grasping air, as our home disappears behind us—our door hanging crooked, our walls broken, my mother on the ground with her arms outstretched like she can still reach me.
          
          “Mama!” I scream until my throat burns.
          
          Damien doesn’t slow.
          
          He carries me out of Greybelt, out of the only life I’ve ever known, while the night swallows my cries whole. My body goes numb. My thoughts splinter. I stop fighting—not because I want to, but because my strength gives out.
          
          They shove me into the van.
          
          Metal floor. No windows. The door slams shut with a sound so final it feels like a verdict.
          
          The world jolts as the engine starts.
          
          I don’t scream anymore.
          
          I think something inside me has slipped loose—like a thread pulled too hard, snapping quietly. My body is here, knees pulled to my chest, wrists burning where hands held me—but I am floating somewhere above it, watching a girl who looks like me breathe too fast.
          
          Too loud.
          
          Too broken.
          
          The van smells like oil and rust and old fear. I press my forehead to my knees and stare at a dark stain on the floor. I decide it’s not blood. I decide nothing bad has ever happened here. I decide a lot of things that aren’t true.
          
          Mama’s face keeps flashing in my mind.
          
          Atlas’s voice.
          
          Then nothing.

Nessie_Brookes

Doll House: 
          A little extract
          
          She sees him emerge from the Doll House alone—no entourage, no umbrella offered or taken. The rain soaks him instantly, darkening his hair, clinging to the sharp lines of his coatless frame. He looks carved from the night itself—tall, broad-shouldered, devastatingly composed even in ruin.
          
          A bottle hangs loose in his hand.
          
          He crosses to the car and leans back against the bonnet, rain striking metal, striking skin. He tilts the bottle to his mouth and drinks deeply, throat working, jaw tense. Wine spills when he lowers it—runs down his chin, stains the open collar of his shirt, blooms dark against his chest.
          
          He doesn’t wipe it away.
          
          Instead, he tips the bottle again and deliberately pours a splash down his front, as if punishing the body that refuses to feel anything properly. Rain and wine blur together, soaking him, plastering fabric to muscle, revealing the quiet strength beneath.
          
          Across his chest, it's inked
          
          Arā. Aftaḥ. Amlik.

Nessie_Brookes

Tristan, a devoted knight, is sent to bring Princess Isolde to Cornwall so she may marry his uncle, King Mark. During the long sea journey, tired and unguarded, they drink from a cup meant to bind Isolde’s love to the king. Instead, the potion binds her to Tristan.
          What follows is not joy, but torment. They love each other fiercely, unwillingly, knowing from the beginning that their love will ruin them.
          Isolde marries King Mark out of duty. She is a queen in name, but her heart belongs to Tristan. They meet in secret, torn between loyalty and longing, each moment together heavy with guilt and desire. When their love is discovered, Tristan is banished—exiled from the only place, and the only person, that gives his life meaning.
          Tristan wanders far from home, carrying Isolde in his memory. He marries another woman, but love never follows. When he is later wounded by a poisoned blade, he knows only Isolde can save him. He sends for her, clinging to the promise of white sails on the horizon.
          But a lie reaches him first. Believing Isolde has abandoned him, Tristan loses hope and dies.
          When Isolde finally arrives, she finds him already gone. She lies beside him, grief breaking what love could not save, and dies there—choosing him in death when the world denied them life together.
          
          
          Tristan and Isolde,
          Layla and Majnun,
          Romeo and Juliet—
          Abelard–Héloïse
          Orpheus–Eurydice
          
          They all share one truth:
          Love that fits the world is lived.
          Love that defies it is remembered.
          
          They loved in a way the world could not allow.
          Their love stood against law, family, honor, society, even reason.
          
          To survive, love usually learns compromise.
          Theirs refused.
          They did not love safely.
          They loved absolutely.
          That is why they suffer,
          and why they endure.

hollowscript

@Nessie_Brookes ohhkayy
• Reply

hollowscript

@Nessie_Brookes is it dollhouse?
            Im already scared for the heartbreak were gonna face
            Their love seems fierce
• Reply

Nessie_Brookes

@hollowscript no love, it's a real folklore not dollhouse
• Reply