No makeup no filterAlıntı
Kendimi çirkin buluyorum. Belki de kış olduğu içindir. Kışı geçirirseniz yazın da aynı olduğunu göreceksiniz.
Makeup
I stare up into Talan’s heartbreakingly beautiful face. Even
though I should be scared out of my wits, all I can think about is
how desperately I wanted to see him.
“Nia.” Talan’s voice sounds wrecked, like he hasn’t slept for days. “You
came back.”
“I’m not allowed in Camelot anymore. They say I’m a traitor.” My
voice cracks a little. “They arrested me. I can’t go back there.”
“Did they arrest you? It’s hard to say when you lie endlessly.” His voice
is barely a whisper. “You faked your family. Your name isn’t Vaillancourt, is
it? And the man I buried—”
He breaks off, staring at me.
I feel myself crumbling into ash. “He was a member of the resistance.
Anti-monarchy. Demi-Fey.” I swallow hard. “And no, I’m not the farm girl
you thought I was. I’m Nia Melisande, Mordred’s daughter. He’s still alive,
in Avalon.”
He stares at me without moving. Not betraying a single thing.
“I grew up in America, speaking English,” I add. “I grew up believing I
was human. You heard my thoughts for years. I heard you repeating them
once in your sleep.”
A tiny twitch of his lips is his only reaction to my confession. “You’re
here only because you have nowhere else to go.”
Desperation crackles through my nerves. “I wanted to see you.”
His eyes flare like torches in the breeze. “I want to hear it.”
My heart is beating faster. My blood pumps hard. “Hear what?”
“You.” He switches to English. “Speak to me in English. I want to hear
how you sound.”
I stare at him, startled by the thickness of his accent. I’d only heard him
speak English once before, briefly.
Swallowing, I search for the right words. “‘Where fairytales come to
life,’” I say in my American accent. “That’s what I heard you say in your
Bazı hikâyeler tam tahmin ettiğin gibi ilerler. Bazılarıysa son sayfada tüm bildiklerini sorgulatır. 🤯
Ters köşeleri seviyorsan, seni sonuna kadar merakta bırakacak 3 kitap önerisini keşfetmeye hazır ol!
The Secret Weapon
“Raphael,” I say weakly. “There’s a secret—”
One of the goons hits me, a sudden punch into my stomach, and my
breath whooshes out. I feel like I’m suffocating.
I glance up. Raphael unsheathes his sword, his eyes lit with silver, but
Wrythe already has a dagger pressed to my throat. The knife edges into my
skin.
“Step any closer, and she dies,” he tells Raphael.
“This is over, Wrythe,” Raphael says evenly. “Let her go.”
Wrythe pauses for a few seconds. “I am merely doing my job,
protecting my people from a dangerous traitor.”
“Nia is an Avalon Steel Knight. She’s done more for our cause than any
of you—”
“Enough!” Wrythe raises his voice, his knife digging into my throat.
“You want to do this here? Very well. Let’s talk about your precious Avalon
Steel Knight. Where’s Tarquin?”
“Right here.” He steps up beside me and shoots me a disdainful look.
Wrythe eases the knife from my throat but presses it against my back,
just next to my spine. “You’ll have your chance to talk here, mongrel,” he
hisses in my ear, “but if you attempt to interrupt me before I have my say, I
will ram my knife through your ribs so fast, you won’t get a single syllable
out.”
Hatred roils through my veins. I’ll wait for my chance, and then I’ll tell
Raphael and the rest everything. I’ll risk a stabbing to get the truth out.
And then Tarquin turns and reaches his arm back to bring another
woman forward, and my heart sinks.
Mom.
She looks put together, for once. Her hair is dyed blonde, her makeup is
perfect. Someone’s been looking after her.
I have no idea what she’s doing here, but I know it’s not good.
“Let her go,” I blurt. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
No makeup no filter :)
"Otoportre, kişinin gerçek hayattaki görüntüsüne çok az benzeyen, üzerinde gitgide daha fazla oynanan, filtrelenmiş imajlardan müteşekkil günümüz selfielerinin öncülüdür. "
I sit on that line that so many sit on, the line between beautiful and not. The line where I can reach it on a good day, during the follicular phase of my cycle, if I didn't sleep on my face, with just the right amount of plucking and primping and a precise swath of eyeliner. It's the line that keeps me even more stuck in the hamster wheel of the pursuit of beauty. Even more dependent on makeup tutorials and tips-and-tricks videos and "that perfect cream bronzer". Because anything could be the thing that makes the difference between me being beautiful or not.
