Today's Document
tannertan36
Sade Olutola
YOU ARE THE REASON
Not today Justin
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Peter Solarz
No title available
JVL
Andulka
No title available
ojovivo
Xuebing Du
pixel skylines
hello vonnie
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
we're not kids anymore.
Origami Around
Keni
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Romania
seen from Spain
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Germany
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Czechia
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Germany
@ofearls-blog
Moving blogs!
I’ve neither died nor forgotten about my old son, but for ease of management I have decided to move Robert to a muse hub. He’ll still have his own sideblog at this URL and I hope to see you there! Keep an eye out for voceshistoricae, that’s the one that will be following you. :)
(To those who I had threads with, please let me know if you don’t want to continue anything! Otherwise I’m planning to.)
Moving blogs!
I’ve neither died nor forgotten about my old son, but for ease of management I have decided to move Robert to a muse hub. He’ll still have his own sideblog at this URL and I hope to see you there! Keep an eye out for voceshistoricae, that’s the one that will be following you. :)
(To those who I had threads with, please let me know if you don’t want to continue anything! Otherwise I’m planning to.)
Moving blogs!
I’ve neither died nor forgotten about my old son, but for ease of management I have decided to move Robert to a muse hub. He’ll still have his own sideblog at this URL and I hope to see you there! Keep an eye out for voceshistoricae, that’s the one that will be following you. :)
(To those who I had threads with, please let me know if you don’t want to continue anything! Otherwise I’m planning to.)
Announcement
YES, ANOTHER HIATUS: AUGUST 22-27
four short days in the emerald city
There’s no anticlimactic way to say this: I’m visiting NYC for the first time in my life. I have tickets to French revolution & am going to try and get to Fiddler too, fingers & toes crossed. You guys know the drill. Replies will be in the queue with a handful of other stuff, any that I don’t get to will be done when I return.
Please take care of yourselves! I’ll miss you all!
As usual this blog continues to get short shrift for which I can only apologize. I’m currently buried in preparing for a trip across the country (I’ll put up a more megaphone-y announcement but it starts this Monday); also just in general I am more consistently (for a given value of consistent) on my first loves Dadmom Breadthief and his sidebro Sasscop Antagonist if you’re interested or just want to check that I’m still alive, idk.
@ofearls | starter call
He is young and old and stylish and dismounts his bicycle with the jaunt of a man who has not just cycled the expanse of two acres. Raol d’Andesy is a duke by his own account, and by the Echo de France’s attestations, a most agreeable eccentric.
“I prefer to travel light. It imbues one with an immense appreciation for necessity. And how necessary it is for me to thank you for your friendship and your hospitality!” He takes the Earl’s outstretched hand in both of his and shakes it graciously. “I must repay you at a later date.”
Young he doesn’t mind. Amiable he can appreciate in the right mood. It’s only the last that gives the earl any pause at all— because apart from that certain eccentricity (which his manners could do only so much for) the duke had been a guest of spotless record. On the whole, Robert thinks, he would invite d’Andesy back again.
“I’m at my absolute happiest not traveling at all,” he confesses, “so you may not get a chance. Where did you say you were headed next? All the same, I do appreciate the offer. It’s very generous when the pleasure’s been all mine, your grace.”
I get jealous and have a short temper and I get quite clingy. But baby I promise no one will ever love you like me.
(via 0bvi0uslygay)
History is the discovering of the constant and universal principles of human nature.
David Hume (via fyp-philosophy)
Moving her shoes over so she could hold the lip of them with one hand, she ran her now free one through her hair, wincing at how wet and tangled it had become due to the rain. At least it wasn’t unsalvageable and heavily knotted, so that was at least an upside. Hearing his laughter at her joke about the movie, she grinned, “Oh dear, I hope the roof stays intact! But if that’s the case with a jewel thief we’d have to make a call to Jacques Clouseau! He’d know what to do!” Good old Peter Sellers, god rest his soul. “At least that movie kind of has a happy ending unlike Jurassic Park.” “Mhm, it doesn’t hurt to try, that’s for sure.” She watched him for a moment, then glanced in the direction he was looking in and found herself staring at the door, the muffled sound of rain meeting her ears. When he started to speak, she glanced from the door to him, and smiled as she listened quietly to him talk about the house, “I can definitely see he did a wonderful job on it. And he did it all himself? Back then it must’ve taken quite some time, and there’d have been no air conditioning to cool him off in the summer if he worked at it during those months.” Trill grinned, “Well your sister and I are both right, it really is like a fairy tale. I can almost imagine what a wedding must’ve looked like if there’d been one here. No I cant imagine it getting stale either, I mean this place is like a dream, and everything it holds is a treasure.” She almost wanted to spin in a circle, just to take it all in, but she was still dripping wet, and she didn’t want to spray water in all directions. There was no hiding who was the culprit behind the trail of socked footprints that was now leading across the hallway, and if she stayed long enough she’d ask to clean it up. “Well even for an amateur botanist you do have very lovely gardens. I… I’m guilty of trespassing just to see and smell the flowers you have out there, which was when the rainstorm hit and I took shelter.” She regretted thinking the place wasn’t unoccupied, but was grateful Robert wasn’t going to press the issue or call the authorities on her. “Oh dear! Is it like having two left feet? If – If it helps I’m terrible with my feet when I’m dancing around the kitchen. Though it might have more to do with me not paying attention…” When he held the door for her, she gave him a mouthed thank you, and started down the steps, glancing over her shoulder for a moment as he spoke, “Oh no, that’s a shame, I’m sorry it wont be passed down. But, I don’t suppose in this day and age changes cant be made? Could titles skip a generation and maybe end up being with a grandson? If… if you have any. I mean things are always changing in this world, though maybe for a title like this it’s better to be traditional, I’m not sure…” She stopped at the end of the stairs, glancing around before meeting his eyes again.
He blinked in sympathy watching her assess her hair. What must it be like to have long hair? Of course he’d never been in danger of finding out, not even in his youngest days. Always chasing after tradition— and a bit of his father’s approval, truth be told. But one thing from those days he did recognize unequivocally and it put a nostalgic smile to his face. “If only! He’d sort it out in a trice... or three. Good heavens, I remember those films like it was yesterday, but I had no idea they had any currency with the younger crowd. How refreshing.” There were things like DVDs, but in his experience (or his assumptions) young people never actually used them. In this instance he was glad to be wrong.
And now he had the theme song stuck in his head. Luckily he was soon distracted telling her about the house’s history. He did like showing off the house since its legacy was tied so closely to his own. “Well, not by himself exactly... I imagine he hired most of the actual work done. But I think he did oversee it himself. He was an energetic fellow, from what I understand. Well, and he’d have to be. All the modern holders of the title have run into financial difficulties. We nearly had to sell the place at one point. Back on solid footing now, but there was a time you could hardly give these houses away. Thank goodness that’s over.” One aspect of change he could be genuinely glad for. His eyes widened slightly at the image of a wedding. “I’d never thought of that. Golly, what a sight that must have been!” It was a pity that they’d had to switch over to a church. Now he thought about it, the house would have been a marvelous setting.
It had been quite a shock to discover her— and those spots of damp would be one to Carson should he come across them— but Robert found he didn’t mind. In fact he liked having a younger spirit here, something he missed now their daughters were all grown up and away, off to their own careers. “Technically I suppose you are, but they are meant to be seen. They’d have no point otherwise.” Well, apart from the bees. But in that case it’d just be the uncultivated wilds full of weeds and who knew what kind of plants. “That is precisely what it feels like. And to tell the truth, my trouble may well be down to lack of attention too. It’s not my kind of sport.”
Robert followed behind her, letting the door swing shut behind them. “Yes, I’m afraid these things are still resistant to change. There are times I’ve wished my daughter could inherit the title, she’d certainly make a worthy heir, but that’s about as radical as I get.” He guided her to the servants’ hall, much less used but otherwise not looking far from a century earlier. “Now, would you like some tea to warm up? I’m sure you’d be more comfortable out of those wet clothes too, Mrs. Hughes would be able to find something to fit you.”
An infinite collection of Robert and Cora scenes [1/?]
Although the entire staff and family were excited for an upcoming wedding, Veronique could not have picked yet a better time to share her news. There was something about her now, something little changed in the youngest girl’s face. Pale faced, hues down. Before she spoke, she trembled, almost letting out a alarming whimper. First she was excited but now the entire thing was scarier than she hoped for especially for what she went through. “I’m carrying a child.” Not something you expect to hear everyday, especially from a young and unmarried woman. It wasn’t right she knew that, but the situation was only know to Mary and still the blonde was confused on what else to do.
Now that he looked at his youngest, really looked, Robert saw something he hadn’t seen there in a while. She seemed happy. In a nervous, fluttery way that put one in mind of a fleet of white butterflies disturbed from their perch; but happy nevertheless. He did want that for all his daughters so he forced his mind away from more immediate and practical matters of the wedding. Simultaneously though he braced himself, knowing all too well that what excited the young often had the opposite effect on the old. He’d been on one side of that divide, now he was on the other.
When she finally did answer, he knew he’d been right to fear. But some small part of him held out hope. God knew why. Struggling for words himself, Robert at last managed to voice what wasn’t his first instinct but his vain hope: “You must be joking.” If not, she had chosen a spectacularly bad time to reveal it. Robert was already at the end of a short tether.
Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say My tooth is aching than to say My heart is broken.
C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (via thelovejournals)
The tension between them was so horrid, she knew deep down she ought to try pull herself back to life. To her family. To him. It was tough though, incredibly hard. Each day proved to be more trying than the previous. Cora wasn’t sure how much longer she could actually handle it. Cora knew she was being cruel towards Robert too. Her mind was bogging her down utterly, the only form of escape was to shut everything and everyone out. She wanted to confide in him, she wanted to even just convey some of what she felt but every time she opened her mouth the wrong words escaped.
“Oh no, you needn’t do that. She is more than welcome.” She said, knowing she could never truly reject her mother-in-law’s visits. As tiring as they could be it wasn’t worth the quarrel. When she glanced up, seeing the look in Robert’s eyes, it gave her an odd feeling. The way he looked so sure he’d deal with it, as if to bring Cora ease. If only he had such a power. “I just doubt I will stay down long. I’d only dampen the mood again.” She went to return her gaze downwards, as she wasn’t sure what more to add. It wasn’t long before he chimed up again– he really was awful at leaving her be. She paused for what seemed several moments before she closed the book and sat it down upon her lap. He was trying, so so hard. He obviously had something valid to point out so she decided to listen to what he had to say; something she had been avoiding.
“Oh? What was it about…?” Her tone was uncertain, but she did her best not to discourage him.
He knew she was struggling; would know it from his own suffering even if he saw none of the sheer exhaustion seeping from her pores. He wished she would let him carry even a small portion... wished that it was possible. It seemed they were instead destined to shoulder their grief across their own backs and no other. And yet he couldn’t recall it ever being so bleak, grief being such a lonely land. Well. He’d had Cora by his side, those times. Was it ghoulish to think of death as something that took practice? And did one ever really get used to it? He supposed, in a vague way, without actively considering, he was going to have to find out one way or the other.
“Of course she is,” Robert was just as quick to agree. “But she did come yesterday, and...” We need our space. That was just the sort of thing he couldn’t seem to say. “And it’s too short notice.” There, that would serve for an excuse. The dowager was sharp, she’d see through this; but she wasn’t all spines. She’d see why too. What Robert couldn’t see, what he hadn’t got his head around completely, was that his own presence was just as much anathema if not more. This wouldn’t be doing his wife any favors, as he hoped.
Now he’d started though, he couldn’t turn back. ‘Charge ahead, whatever comes,’ as an old major used to say. He wondered a moment if the gloriously ginger-whiskered fellow had ever faced down something like this. Unclasping and reclasping his hands, Robert took the window she had cracked open.
“Omnia mutantur, nihil interit,” he began, hoping she’d forgive the slight preening of his using the Latin. “Everything changes, nothing perishes. It just stuck with me. Ovid was never my favorite, but something about it seemed appropriate just now. What is it you’re reading, by the way? I’m sure we have an English copy somewhere if you’re interested.”
Fill out with muse info.
Fill out with muse info.
ɴᴀᴍe: Robert James Crawley
ᴀʟɪᴀs ( ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇs ): Lord Grantham, sir, your lordship, & the crown jewel of them all: Donk. ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: cis male ᴀɢᴇ: late 40s-50s ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ: 19 May, 1866 sᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇs: English, brave but flawed French ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ: none ᴅɪsᴏʀᴅᴇʀs: none ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: blue-grey ʜᴀɪʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: dark, greying ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 6′2″ sᴄᴀʀs: one wound from the Boer War on his right shoulder, a few minor ones from the sports of his school days. ʙᴜʀɴs: no ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ: somewhat ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ: no ʜᴀᴅ sᴇx: yes ʜᴀᴅ sᴇx ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ: no ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ: no ᴋɪssᴇᴅ ᴀ ʙᴏʏ: ... what if you didn’t kiss back... ᴋɪssᴇᴅ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ: yes ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏs: no ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢs: no sᴍᴏᴋᴇᴅ/ᴅʀᴀɴᴋ/ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴅʀᴜɢs: yes/yes/no ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ: yes ʙᴇᴇɴ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: yes ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ sᴜʀɢᴇʀʏ: yes sᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ 24 ʜᴏᴜʀs: yes ᴀ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ: no ᴀ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇʀ: not really ᴀ ᴋɪssᴇʀ: yes sᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ: no ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ: yes ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ: yes ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇᴀɴ: no ʜᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs: no ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ sᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ: no ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ sᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ: no ғᴇᴀʀs: change, loss of control, ruin, losing Downton, failing his legacy sɪʙʟɪɴɢs: older sister Rosamund ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs: Violet & Patrick Crawley ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ: daughters Mary, Edith, and Sybil ᴘᴇᴛ(s): always has a Labrador (usually yellow) named for Egyptian royalty
Tag a quality blog, You’re it! Quality doesn’t means that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. Send this to 15 blogs who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them. :)
Ahhhh thank you, this is too sweet! You’re amazing and I hope you’re having a splendid holiday!
Small hiatus
August 3-8 I’m going down to Cali for to visit some relatives (& meet a new baby!). They have internet but I don’t expect to have oodles of time. I’m trying to get as many replies done for the queue as possible. Whatever doesn’t get done will be worked on & posted when I return. Take care of yourselves in the meantime!
