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@liondecoy-blog
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PLEASE REPOST, DON’T REBLOG.
TAGGED BY: @undauntedlioness TAGGING: @unbeatenwclf @moreastark @outlawerofbeets@anyone who wants to!
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN HAPPY:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN SAD:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN SCARED:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEY SEE SOMETHING THEY WANT:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEIR BERSERK BUTTON IS PUSHED:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN THEY SEE SOMETHING THEY DISLIKE:
THE FACE YOUR MUSE MAKES WHEN IN ANGUISH:
A sapling cannot grow in the shadow of a mighty oak.
what grows in shadows? water by deeper roots taken, sunlight by high branches overarched. slim sapling next to thick-trunk oaks must surely wither, parched - - starved. yet she in casterly’s shadow long has lived, LANNISTER of a different sort - - hair a lesser shade of gold, eyes all muddied green.
“yet...forgive me, if i misplace your meaning, but - - i am not a TREE, ser addam.”
soft voice trembles, all unsure. what means he by words like these? she does not know, yet she might guess. what sapling in a thicker wood would not try by strangling roots and reaching limbs to outstrip growing daughter of those selfsame mighty oaks? might she not by same principle - - by jealousy, by anger, by very fact that princess’ family plucked rosamund from home, sent her skidding ‘cross the dangerous sea? (does he ask how much she knew, how much she might have told, had it been SHE who so betrayed a plan gone all awry?)
little smile, nervous innocence, and hands in lap quite neatly folded.
:”i have grown all my life in casterly’s great shadow, yet it has been all to my benefit.”
EVER AFTER : accepting
Ever After (1998) Roleplay Starter Sentences
Change pronouns and titles, adapt dialect accordingly. Especially suitable for royalty/fairy tale/period AUs.
A sapling cannot grow in the shadow of a mighty oak.
I was merely borrowing it!
Speak of this to no one and I shall be lenient.
A lady of breeding ought never to raise her voice any louder than the gentle hum of a whispering wind.
Do not speak unless you can improve the silence.
I was not shrill, I was resonant.
I very much doubt your style of resonance would be permitted in the royal court.
Darling, nothing is final until you’re dead and even then I’m sure God negotiates.
This is our home and I will not see it fall apart.
I trust you slept well.
Why don’t you sleep with the pigs, _____, if you insist on smelling like one.
Your appearance does reflect a certain crudeness, my dear. What can I do to make you try?
I do wish to please you. Sometimes I sit on my own and try to think of what else I could do, how I should act-
After all that I do, after all that I’ve done, it’s never enough.
Have you lost your marbles?
Do you know what the punishment is for servants to dress above their station? Five days in the stocks!
Me? Pretend to be a courtier? Prancing around like some nobleman, why I’ve never even been to the royal court, and neither have you.
They’ll never buy it, you are too sweet.
Now, don’t you dare laugh, I’m coming out.
Nobody will be looking at your feet.
Yards of fabric and I still feel naked.
If you’re going to be a noblewoman, you must play the part.
I suppose it’s because I lack conviction. You seem to have it in spades.
I demand that you release him at once, or I shall take this matter to the king.
— You ill-mannered tub of guts!
You dare raise your voice to a lady, sir?
A servant is not a thief your highness, and those who are cannot help themselves.
If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners corrupted from infancy and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed to them, what else is to be concluded, sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?
Are you coy on purpose or do you honestly refuse to tell me your name?
I confess the plight of the everyday rustics bores me.
I gather you do not converse with many peasants.
Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?
Darling, he’s royalty, they’re born like that.
Well then I suppose the penalty for being wealthy is that you have to live with the rich.
Do you really think there’s only one perfect mate? Well, then how can you be certain to find them? And if you do find them are they really the one for you or do you only think they are and what happens if the person you’re supposed to be with never appears or she does, but you’re too distracted to notice.
And is everything just chance or were some things meant to be?
You cannot leave everything to fate, _____. She’s got a lot to do. Sometimes you must give her a hand.
You are trying to bait me with your snobbery.
I’m afraid,_____, that you are a walking contradiction and I find that rather fascinating.
You spout the ideals of a utopian society and yet you live the life of a courtier.
And you own all the land there is and yet you take no pride in working it. Is that not also a contradiction?
First I’m arrogant and now I have no pride, however do I manage that?
You have everything and still the world holds no joy and yet you insist on making fun of those who would see it for its possibilities.
Why do you like irritate me so?
Forgive me, your highness. I’ve lost track of the hour.
Your highness, what an unexpected surprise!
It is not fair sire, you have found my weakness but I have yet to learn yours.
In all my years of study, not one tutor demonstrated the passion you have shown me in the last two days.
You have more conviction in one memory than I have in my entire being.
Well this is terribly embarrassing.
Honestly, your highness, where’s your sense of adventure?
You would think I would know the way to my own castle.
And I still can’t believe that I’m down here while you’re up there and in your undergarments no less.
You will give me back my dress, sir!
I insist you return my things at once and since you deprive me of my escort I demand a horse as well.
You can have anything you can carry.
You are reading my thoughts, my lord.
To be so defined by your position, to never be seen as who you are but as what you are. You have no idea how insufferable that is.
They’re defined by their status just as your title defines you, yet it is not who they are.
You have been born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations.
I am sorry, my mouth has run away with me again.
Why you lazy little leech!
There was a bee.
I fear that I am not myself today.
I feel as if my skin is the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once.
I cannot stay long but I had to see you. There is much to say.
I used to think that if I cared about anything I’d have to care about everything and I’d go stark raving mad.
Why did you have to be so wonderful?
Last night was the happiest night of my life.
Why it’s almost as absurd as a prince who spends his days with a servant that sleeps with pigs.
What bothers you more, _____, that I am common or that I am competition?
Yes, I shall go down in history as the man who opened a door!
We must get you ready for the ball!
A bird may love a fish, _____, but where would they live?
Just breathe.
Do not address me so informal.
I was born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations.
I know that a life without love is no life at all.
And love without trust, what of that?
I am but a servant to my crown and I have made my decision. I will not yield!
Men are so fickle aren’t they?
Well my, my, my aren’t we feisty today?
Was there a time even in its smallest measurement, that you loved me at all?
How can anyone love a pebble in their shoe?
Oh, I do so hate to see you in irons. I’d remove them if only you’d promise not to run away again.
I belong to no one, least of all you.
I had a horse like you once. Magnificent creature. Stubborn just like you, willful to a fault, it too just needed to be broken in.
You will maintain your distance, sir.
Oh you didn’t say please.
I could hang you for this.
I do love your spirit.
My father was an expert swordsman, _____. He taught me well. Now hand me that key or I swear on his grave I will slit you from navel to nose.
I uh, I came to rescue you.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me find the owner of this rather remarkable shoe.
Choose your words wisely Madam, for they may be your last.
How dare you turn on me you little ingrate!
I’m only here for the food.
I want you to know that I will forget you after this moment and never think of you again. But you I am quite certain will think about me ever single day for the rest of your life.
How dare you speak to me that way, I’m of noble blood!
You sir, are supposed to be charming.
And we, princess, are supposed to live happily ever after.
trystcne:
paints sunlight onto rocks, ( an artist!! his father proclaimed, how quaint. — can’t win wars with an artist ) transfixed by colours and lazy afternoons, sun kissed skin glows. quiet trystane, who considers and does not fight, who spends afternoons dreaming of the sea. he is fierce, yes, but calm and soothing and made more for diplomacy than the battles of the world. let his brother and sister fight for their rights, and he shall tame the oceans. footsteps pull from quiet reverie, eyes look to this new presence. ‘ lady rosamund, how do you find my home? ’
@liondecoy ( starter call )
DORNE remains to her quite strange, longing for her home so fierce it cannot be put aside to welcome place so new. myrcella takes to dornish sun and dornish food, dornish ways of dress, even golden curls are styled in a dornish way, yet ROSAMUND to westerlands customs keeps. still, a lady was she raised, a lady she shall be: “it is wonderful, my lord - - thank you. even more beautiful than i had been told.” (and it is, she knows it is, appreciates its beauty even as she long for beauty of another kind). eyes drift from dornsh prince’s to his painting, light with curiosity and soft appreciation. “oh! my lord, you paint so wonderfully! - - ‘tis as though you’ve captured a piece of the sea.” light blush stains fair cheeks, slender fingers fumble with soft fold of skirt, shy for sudden enthusiasm. “in lannisport, the sea turns GOLD at sunset. the way you have captured all the light upon the rocks reminded me of home.”
a tiny headcanon: rosamund’s eyes run more to HAZEL than to TRUE GREEN, though the base color is a variant of the recognizable lannister hue they are a sort of light amber-brown around the pupil, and in rays that spear through the green from this central circle.
Elle Fanning poses for a portrait during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival
slides the dash $2 …….. ship with me
( @dornishparamour )
“is she going to DIE?” tears streak fair skin, salt-water tracks from red-rimmed eyes to trembling chin. since cousin’s return “is it...is it my fault? oh, it is, is it not? i should have SAID something, i should have TOLD, but ser arys said...” but white-cloaked knight now is dead, and voice trembles on the words, stumbles and fades. “please, no one has told me anything!” too busy, rushing, and little lannister lady half-forgotten in injury’s wake,
so while i realize that this is westeros, a fictional world, i also wonder about m.artin’s understanding of certain things? conventions, mostly? like how few northerners wound up going south with n.ed and the girls? how few ladies? and AGAIN the very few people who went to dorne with a PRINCESS is almost laughable? a septa, a cousin, a kingsguard, and some lannister men (if i remember correctly?)? i can understand an argument for their needing to travel rather quickly and in as nondescript a manner as possible, but ???
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❛ What odd turns our lives have taken. ❜
what sort of beast is one-pawed lion? what sort of man kingslayer without sword hand? GENTLED by its wounds or FURIOUS? more like to bite and snap at lesser lion? less? (and she? shy little thing of LANNISTER name and yet no lion’s bravery? SHE plucked from home by family’s wishes, sent off by father’s honor, father’s pride? what sort of beast was she?)
timidly do eyes now lift, skip over golden hand, unlingering, wishing no offense in moment’s long attention. no reason has he given her for fear, for trembling, no great roar, no, nor teeth all bared and shining, nor even warning growl. still, she treads most carefully, delicate paws on shifting ground, slip-sliding ever.
no answer to his words she gives, in silence stands all shy regard, all waiting, longing for but one end and one alone. cousin now returned, she longs for for LANNISPORT, for father’s hall and lapping tide, for other lions than king’s landing’s pride. what answer can she give but what now she can? a dip of head, a down-cast eye? acknowledgement of truth, and yet no more?
no, no answer now but question of her own, leaves words as some higher lord’s musing, which to answer might be to displease.
“please…” (perhaps, he - - perhaps! - - will listen! not stride in golden splendor by, to leave her once again in golden shadow.) “please…if…if there is no more need of me, might i be sent HOME, now? grateful though i am for the hospitality i have been shown, i…i would like to return to lannisport. it has been so long since i have seen my mother and my father.”
REIGN STARTERS : accepting
maroon 5 feat. rozzi crane
no offense but….kindness and being polite is really underrated some of y’all are so unnecessarily mean and i dont understand why