Why I Love Fantasy and Sci-Fi
I’ve always been drawn to fantasy and sci-fi because they stretch beyond the ordinary. They imagine worlds where rules bend, timelines fracture, and reality expands — and I find that deeply comforting and exciting at the same time.
These stories let me step outside the noise of everyday life without disconnecting from myself. They’re not about escaping reality so much as reframing it. When I immerse myself in fantasy or sci-fi, I’m reminded that there are endless ways to think, feel, exist, and imagine. Possibility feels wider.
I love how these genres explore identity, power, morality, and choice without being literal. They ask big questions through strange worlds and unfamiliar beings. What makes someone human? What defines strength? What does loyalty, love, or sacrifice really mean? Somehow, those questions land more honestly when they’re wrapped in magic, technology, or alternate realities.
There’s also something deeply soothing about immersion. Rich worlds, detailed lore, and long story arcs invite patience and curiosity. You’re allowed to slow down and sink in. You don’t have to be practical or productive — you just get to wonder.
And honestly, I adore the aesthetic. Strong women. Strange landscapes. Otherworldly beauty. Myth and futurism. Creatures, armour, magic, intelligence, power. These worlds feel layered, intentional, and a little indulgent — qualities I’ve always been drawn to.
That love of fantasy is also woven into my name. Fleur Delacour is a quiet homage to a prominent fantasy novel which shall not need to be named — a character and world that first showed me how femininity could be powerful, beauty could be strength, and softness could carry its own kind of magic. The name feels romantic, slightly mythical, and intentionally chosen — a woman who belongs to a world where enchantment, intelligence, and confidence coexist.
I’ve always loved stories where a woman can be graceful and formidable, sensual and self-possessed, admired without being diminished. Where her presence is felt before she speaks. Fleur holds that energy for me. It suggests refinement, allure, and a touch of otherworldliness — someone who moves between worlds with ease.
Choosing that name wasn’t about disguising myself; it was about stepping more fully into a version of me that already existed. Fantasy has always given me permission to honour parts of myself that don’t fit neatly into the ordinary — mystery, magnetism, indulgence, softness paired with steel. Delacour adds a sense of lineage and story, as if there’s history behind the name, not just surface beauty.
In the fantasy worlds I love, names matter. They signal identity, destiny, and the role someone plays in the story. Fleur Delacour feels like a name that belongs to a woman who knows who she is, enjoys being desired, and understands that femininity itself can be a form of power — not something to apologise for, but something to embody.
The name also mirrors how I experience connection and intimacy. I savour atmosphere. I enjoy anticipation. I believe in the pleasure of presence — and in the quiet magic that happens when someone feels truly seen. Fleur is an invitation into that space — not an escape from reality, but a more enchanted way of experiencing it.
Fantasy and sci-fi don’t pull me away from reality — they give me perspective. They remind me that reality is flexible, identity is expansive, and imagination is a form of freedom.
And I’ve always been a woman who enjoys worlds — and names — that ask you to look beyond the obvious.
I’ve always been drawn to fantasy and sci-fi because they stretch beyond the ordinary. They imagine worlds where rules bend, timelines fracture, and reality expands — and I find that deeply comforting and exciting at the same time.
These stories let me step outside the noise of everyday life without disconnecting from myself. They’re not about escaping reality so much as reframing it. When I immerse myself in fantasy or sci-fi, I’m reminded that there are endless ways to think, feel, exist, and imagine. Possibility feels wider.
I love how these genres explore identity, power, morality, and choice without being literal. They ask big questions through strange worlds and unfamiliar beings. What makes someone human? What defines strength? What does loyalty, love, or sacrifice really mean? Somehow, those questions land more honestly when they’re wrapped in magic, technology, or alternate realities.
There’s also something deeply soothing about immersion. Rich worlds, detailed lore, and long story arcs invite patience and curiosity. You’re allowed to slow down and sink in. You don’t have to be practical or productive — you just get to wonder.
And honestly, I adore the aesthetic. Strong women. Strange landscapes. Otherworldly beauty. Myth and futurism. Creatures, armour, magic, intelligence, power. These worlds feel layered, intentional, and a little indulgent — qualities I’ve always been drawn to.
That love of fantasy is also woven into my name. Fleur Delacour is a quiet homage to a prominent fantasy novel which shall not need to be named — a character and world that first showed me how femininity could be powerful, beauty could be strength, and softness could carry its own kind of magic. The name feels romantic, slightly mythical, and intentionally chosen — a woman who belongs to a world where enchantment, intelligence, and confidence coexist.
I’ve always loved stories where a woman can be graceful and formidable, sensual and self-possessed, admired without being diminished. Where her presence is felt before she speaks. Fleur holds that energy for me. It suggests refinement, allure, and a touch of otherworldliness — someone who moves between worlds with ease.
Choosing that name wasn’t about disguising myself; it was about stepping more fully into a version of me that already existed. Fantasy has always given me permission to honour parts of myself that don’t fit neatly into the ordinary — mystery, magnetism, indulgence, softness paired with steel. Delacour adds a sense of lineage and story, as if there’s history behind the name, not just surface beauty.
In the fantasy worlds I love, names matter. They signal identity, destiny, and the role someone plays in the story. Fleur Delacour feels like a name that belongs to a woman who knows who she is, enjoys being desired, and understands that femininity itself can be a form of power — not something to apologise for, but something to embody.
The name also mirrors how I experience connection and intimacy. I savour atmosphere. I enjoy anticipation. I believe in the pleasure of presence — and in the quiet magic that happens when someone feels truly seen. Fleur is an invitation into that space — not an escape from reality, but a more enchanted way of experiencing it.
Fantasy and sci-fi don’t pull me away from reality — they give me perspective. They remind me that reality is flexible, identity is expansive, and imagination is a form of freedom.
And I’ve always been a woman who enjoys worlds — and names — that ask you to look beyond the obvious.