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@rcgaliisms
rcgaliisms:
“Well, it’s rather hard not to look at you like that, when you’re crawling across the library floor like a wee dormouse.”
“Were you looking for something, my Lady?”
“…no?” She kept crawling. “Please just avert your gaze.”
"Consider it averted," she looked away with a snort perhaps not exactly becoming of a highborn lady.
"Though it may be worth noting that I did much the same thing in my own family library when I was about your age. You'll find no judgement from me."
“ the world tried to burn all the MERCY out of me but you know i wouldn’t let it ”
open
“I wasn’t doing anything I was not supposed to.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
"Well, it's rather hard not to look at you like that, when you're crawling across the library floor like a wee dormouse."
"Were you looking for something, my Lady?"
The person I reblogged this from is awesome as fuck.
Zuhair Murad Couture F/W 2016
random edits .
i cross myself and close my eyes. where we go next, we go together. ( personals don’t reblog )
rcgaliisms:
“ I’ve often felt the same, ” Alison replies mildly, though the acerbic tone behind her words can be felt nevertheless. “ Do you know, I once had a man attempt to explain the Napoleonic wars to me, knowing fully well my grandfather was one of Lord Nelson’s right hand men? ”
SHE IS MORE POLITICAL THAN HER HUSBAND, better read and better educated of the world and yet still still somehow finds people assuming she is trapped in his shadow. And if it doesn’t infuriate her she doesn’t know what would. “ Men often do not care what people women know or are related to, other than their husbands … and even if you were married to Lord Nelson himself I am sure they would have still insisted on explaining it to you. ”
As someone who has arrived into Society only this season, Alison has not yet been fortunate (or unfortunate, as the case may be) enough to find someone she would be tolerably inclined to marry. But when the day should come, she prays she is not so unlucky as to experience such an obviously unhappy match as that of the young Duchess of Sutherland, who evidently outshines her husband in every way and yet is delegated to mere drawing-room gossip as befits a woman of her station.
“I think you must have the patience of a saint, not to have gone mad by now,” she compliments honestly. “I’ve only been at court a month, and yet I find myself fighting the urge to defenestrate myself every time a man so much as approaches me.”
"Crowe, do you think I'm... strange?" - rcgaliisms (*chucks an insecure Ali at u bc why not*)
@rcgaliisms
| ♟ | - “There’s no such thing as “normal”,” Crowe replied with a gentle laugh. “And even if there was, that’d make us all strange here. So don’t worry about it. You’re not “strange”.”
Alison smiles slightly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose. I just wonder sometimes… and hear what people say about me.” It’s not meant maliciously, she knows. But there are only so many times one can be called a cryptid and not start to wonder.
| ♟ | - “People are all talk,” Crowe replied, waving her hand. “They critisize what they can’t, or don’t want to, understand. Ignorance is an unpleasant disease, especially to those who suffer from the symptoms of it.”
A gentle smile and warm eyes then adorned Crowe’s porcelain features. “There’s nothing wrong with being strange. It makes you unique. Dancing to the beat of your own drum is the best way to get through life.”
“You sound like Grandmama when you talk like that,” Alison laughs slightly. It’s meant as a compliment; Alison’s grandmother was one of the strongest people she’s ever been privileged enough to know, having lived through the deaths of her husband, son and daughter-in-law and was still around to raise Alison herself. Six, but Alison misses her something awful on days like these.
She passes Crowe one of the biscuits she’d packed for afternoon tea that morning. “I think she would have loved you, you know? Even when I was little, she’d always remind me that being strong was nothing if you weren’t kind as well.”
open starter || HARRIET OF SUTHERLAND
“ IF ONE MORE, ‘educated’ gentleman feels so inclined to ‘educate’ me on matters which they clearly know so little about I maybe inclined to SCREAM. ”
" I've often felt the same, " Alison replies mildly, though the acerbic tone behind her words can be felt nevertheless. " Do you know, I once had a man attempt to explain the Napoleonic wars to me, knowing fully well my grandfather was one of Lord Nelson's right hand men? "
"Crowe, do you think I'm... strange?" - rcgaliisms (*chucks an insecure Ali at u bc why not*)
@rcgaliisms
| ♟ | - “There’s no such thing as “normal”,” Crowe replied with a gentle laugh. “And even if there was, that’d make us all strange here. So don’t worry about it. You’re not “strange”.”
Alison smiles slightly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose. I just wonder sometimes... and hear what people say about me.” It’s not meant maliciously, she knows. But there are only so many times one can be called a cryptid and not start to wonder.
"Excuse me, are you allowed to be here? This part of the library is restricted, I'm afraid." - rcgaliisms
@rcgaliisms
Ardyn gives the girl a sly glance, fingers still resting on the spine of a particularly Forbidden-seeming book. He drums them thoughtfully, humming in his throat. “Oh, you mean here? Yes, of course. There are so many secret things here, aren’t there?”
The tome is tugged free carelessly, and Ardyn brushes the dusty sheen from it’s worn leather face. Ancient Lucian text etched into the surface. His fingers trace over it, reading it with the ease only known to scholars and those who happen to have it as their mother tongue.
“Odyssey of the Mystic.” he reads, lip curling just slightly in scorn.
He cracks the book open to a random page, scanning through lines of ancient text almost boredly. “And so did the Founder King, Somnus, join hands with the Oracle to travel the world and dispel the darkness that plagued our star.”
Ardyn closes the book with a harsh thump, a plume of dust escaping in complaint.
“My, my. Isn’t that rich, considering how things were actually handled.” He tucks it back into the shelf, chuckling. Cocks his head coyly towards the girl. “..Though I don’t suppose they would have told you that in university, would they?”
The man is an oddity, no doubt about it. A shock of magenta hair hidden beneath a worn hat long out of fashion, clothes unco-ordinated and eclectic to the point of disorganized. Not to mention the expression of cat-like amusement as he thumbs through a priceless centuries-old text like it's yesterday's newspaper.
For a moment, all Alison does is stare. Very few people visit her back here in the archives; Cor Leonis will sometimes come by to drop off records, or the odd glaive or researcher looking for some obscure piece of literature. But most of the time, the young aristocrat is alone. There are times where she's spent entire days holed up back here without seeing another soul. Though she's still intent on doing her job and discovering the intruder's purpose, there's a part of her that's glad that today will not be one such time.
Her eyes flicker to the tome in his hands, barely suppressing a scoff when the title becomes clear. Many of her fellow historians regard it as one of the oldest and most valuable accounts of Lucian history. She considers it the most biased piece of propaganda masquerading as truth she's ever had the misfortune of reading.
Not wanting to be accused of blasphemy (or worse, treason), Alison prepares to bite her tongue until the interloper's acerbic question reaches her ears. Almost involuntarily, her eyes widen a fraction.
Something about the way he stares at her through golden eyes seems as though he's posing her a challenge, and there's barely a second between her mind registering his voice and the derisive snort that follows in response.
"Yes, well I suppose I'd be doctoring my histories as well, if I'd done half as many things as our dear founder."
Hey Witchblr, asking for everyone to please send out a lot of good vibes and love to my one year old nephew.
He’s going in for a 4+ hour surgery in a few minutes, to remove a tumour that’s ⅓ the size of his wee torso, partially around his spine and collapsing one lung. He has been in the hospital for the last three months undergoing chemo that didn’t do a thing for him, fighting hard against neuroblastoma. We love him so much, and any extra bit of love going into the Universe for him would be amazing.
Even just a kiss blown into the air would help. Thank you so much for even reading this through.
May the Universe smile upon you all, may the day shine bright and full of goodness for you all, and may good luck follow you all in whatever you do. All my love is shining out to every one of you who reads this, regardless of whatever you choose to do.
Love and light ✨
Christian Dior Haute Couture Fall/Winter 2018-2019.
“Evening, my good bastards.”
I am
a brand-spankin new independent Ardyn Izuna roleplay blog
multi-ship/verse and flexible
open to plotting and dms at any time
a menace upon this good christian minecraft server
I’d be happy to bother your muses with Ardyn’s unbearable bastardry. Please do reblog if you’re interested. ♥️
Verstaels pls interact
Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.
My name is PHILO and i was born, an ORPHAN OF THE BURGUE. Back then the city’s heart beat like any other, fauns, faeries, all manner of creatures living alongside us humans in relative peace until the war changed everything. I seized the chance to DEFEND my home, an opportunity to REPAY the city that raised me and that’s when I met HER. She was my world, until they came for us…. —–I barely escaped and I wasn’t alone, with nowhere to go the world’s races fled to the Burgue. My city is changing, where once a PEACEFUL city stood, RACIAL ANIMOSITY took hold and subjected the fae to animalistic cruelty. I vowed to PROTECT those who cannot protect themselves, whatever it took …For her. Something is coming, a darkness. 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾 𝒶𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 promo credit
((Someone pay attention to me I'm trying to procrastinate))
