Don't You Just Love Me In Pink?

An Indie Semi Selective roleplaying blog for the character of Sibella Hallward/Holland from "A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder". 

[sibellicious]

i found a phoebe and I’m so happy

[martysimone]

[rpmindthinker]

Seduce My Muse

Send them pictures, whisper in their ear, show off for them. Do anything and everything in your power to get them hot and bothered and see how my muse reacts.

[sibellicious]

Why is this Sibs.

[christinebaranski]

Project Broadway - Week 1: The Tony Awards

Favourite Unconventional Relationship + A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder - Sibella x Monty x Phoebe

[gifsmemesprompts]

{ originally posted by magnoliamemes, who has deactivated }

Send for your muse to do one of the following to mine.

Carries, bridal style.

Kisses cheek.  

Tickles sides.  

Growls at

Tackles to the ground.  

Slaps.  

Cries in front of.  

Holds and refuses to let go.  

Protects.  

KICKS.  

Bites.  

Holds hand.  

Winks at.  

Steals a kiss.  

Dances with.  

stabs.  

Yells at

stares at.  

Sniffs.  

pats head.

Pins down.  

Blocks their exit.  

Glares at.  

attacks.  

gives flowers.  

sings to.  

proposes to.  

gazes into their eyes.    

blushes at.  

asks out on a date.  

breaks up with.  

runs away from  (flustered)

chases.  

begs for forgiveness.  

rejects them.  

Sneaks up on.  

gets caught following them.  

Hides from

Scares them.  

comforts them.  

headbutts  

nose boop.  

forehead flick.  

runs away with.  

shares a treat.  

flirts with.  

BADLY,  flirts with.  

breaks down in front of them.  

Cuddles with.  

shoves away.  

pulls in closer.  

leans in to kiss but then stops themselves.    

Tries to confess their feelings but chickens out.

reads to them

whispers into their ear

Invades personal space.  

tries to make them laugh.  

apologies to.  

trips them.  

catches them.  

eyes them up and down.  

smirks at

rolls eyes at

playfully shoves.  

[fordarkmornings]

Alexandr Averin (Russian, b. 1952). Oil on canvas.

[andessence]

"Honeyed words are all well and good, and yet sometimes poison lingers beneath the surface of the speaker's tongue." (From Sibs to Orpheus) (hi I don't know what I'm doing but I want to try out an interaction between Orpheus and Sibs, okay bye.)

The look Orpheus fixes on her is pleasant but BLANK for a moment, as he tries to work out what she’s getting at. Him? His music? “Sometimes true, I suppose,” he murmurs while his fingers pick at the strings of his guitar in idle melody. He’s smiling, still a bit bewildered by her words and the caution she exhibits, but welcoming Sibella to let the walls drop and enjoy herself. “But sometimes it’s only honey. Only sweet. … If it’s not to your liking, I can play something bitter.” And so saying, he strikes a chord and lets it hang, long and dark and rich — D minor, old standby of melancholy! He feels a bit of a pang himself, just at the sound, and resolves for the pleasure of his own ear to the major. “But wouldn’t you rather it were an honest joy? Can’t you see how that might be?”

[sibellicious]

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his endless optimism, his ability to see the good in anything. A bitter taste fills her mouth, much like the note that hangs in the air from his instrument but she swallows it back down with a cautious hesitant smile. 

A hand goes to her hair, her fingers rubbing and twirling gently around her locks of blonde hair as she thinks on an answer.

  “Honest joys can turn into disguised murmurs of discontent soon enough,” she muses softly. “Play me something else, Orpheus,” she asks, her hand coming to hold up her chin. “A tragic love ballad perhaps, for all my loves seem to end in tragedy.”

She glances up at him, a flicker of vulnerability crosses across her sapphire irises as she waits for the music to fill her ear and the air with its sweet but sad sound.

[sibellicious]

Modern Au Sibs would love Downton Abbey, and her favorite character would be Mary Crawley.

Sybil reminds her of Phoebe and she sobs horribly when Sybil dies after the birth of her child.

[sibellicious]

A sharp breath in, almost a gasp leaves her lips at the admission of this man that her husband is proud of his indiscretions, and more-so proud of the fact that he hides such a fact from her.

Her anger swells within her, and she has half a mind to storm in there and rage and seethe at him until she finds herself out of breath, until she threatens divorce, until she divulges into her own indiscretions with Monty, to show him that he is not the only one not being faithful in this marriage.

She wants nothing more than to watch Lionel’s face crumble with humiliation as she announces the very true fact that she has been sleeping with Monty behind his back. 

Nails dig into her palm, the half crescent moon marks sting but bring her back to reality.

Speechless, she’s truly speechless and has nothing to say to this man who Lionel has found to pass the time with. 

She wants him out of her sight immediately, for every glance towards him is a reminder of the fact that Lionel is proud of his relations with this man, of fooling her, of pretending to be a faithful husband to her while screwing this man in the dead of night when she’s out. 

Her ego wounded, her heart aches, and yet she does not utter a hateful word to this man who tells her of her husband’s affair, although she sorely wants to. 

She knows she’ll gain nothing from casting him away.

  “How long?” she doesn’t feel the need to finish the question, surely he can assume, surely he can see that she is brimming with rage and does not need to spell everything out for him. 

[plaguegirll]

why did we ever stop writing Like That, like now it’s all “he looked at her with longing” like!!! what happened to “he gazed at her, pain in his eyes, heart twisting with every beat, and felt that if she did not look back he might never truly know happiness again” WHY DO WE WRITE IN NORMAL LENGTH SENTENCES NOW!!! BRING BACK PARAGRAPH LONG SENTENCES! BRING BACK THE UNINTELLIGIBLE!!! MAKE OSCAR WILDE PROUD BITCH!!!!!

anyway make ur writing so complicated and lavish that i have to spend a week working out what one sentence means please xoxo

[lcurmani-archive]

i love talking headcanons over ships with partners. even if it’s something that may never happen, i just love the discussion of the ship regardless. literally talking for hours in cap locks over two muses you care for so much is amazing. and it makes you feel good knowing your partner is as dedicated as you are and thinks about your two muses in different situations too.

[artefactyeeteda-deactivated2023]

me: *does one reply*

[lacetulle]

[vaememes]

  some  one  word  prompts .    (    send   one   of   the   words   for   our   muses   to   interact   based   off   that   word   )

goodbye :  my  muse  kissing  and/or  hugging  your  muse  goodbye.

secrets :   my  muse  sharing/confiding  their  deepest,  darkest  secret  with  your  muse.

nightmare :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muses  aid  when  they  awake  from  a  nightmare.

push :   my  muse  pushing  your  muse  out  of  the  way  of  danger.

embrace :   my  muse  abruptly  throwing  their  arms  around  your  muse,  hugging  them  tightly.

bloody :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muse  with  blood  stains  on  their  clothes  and  hands,  shaking.

drunk :   my  muse  takes  care  of  your  muse  while  they  are  in  a  drunken  state.

bed :   my  muse  wakes  up  in  the  same  bed  as  your  muse  with  little  recollection  of  the  night  before.

slap :   my  muse  slaps  your  muse  across  the  face  out  of  anger.

gone :   my  muse  stays  by  your  muses  side  while  they  take  their  last  breath.

scream :   my  muse  hears  your  muse  scream  and  quickly  runs  to  their  side.

sleep :   my  muse  falls  asleep  on  your  muse,  making  it  hard  for  my  muse  to  leave.

stalk :   my  muse  gets  caught  by  your  muse  trailing  behind  them,  watching  them.

sacrifice :   my  muse  jumps  in  front  of  your  muse,  sacrificing  their  life  for  your  muses  life.

trail :   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scares,  asking  them  about  it.

love :   my  muse  confronts  your  muse  about  why  they  never  say  ’ i  love  you ’  back.

piggyback :   my  muse  jumps  on  your  muses  back,  my  muse  gives  yours  a  piggyback  ride.

jump :   my  muse  runs  to  your  muse  and  jumps  up,  my  muse  holding  yours  up  by  their  thighs.

dance :   my  muse  holds  their  hand  out,  waiting  for  your  muse  to  come  out  and  slow  dance  with  them.

carry :   my  muse  carries  your  muse  to  their  house,  either  drunk,  or  a  weakened  state,  can  specify. 

lighter :   my  muse  pulls  out  a  lighter  and  lights  it  for  your  muse  to  use  to  light  their  cigarette.

shot :   my  muse  gets  shot  and  struggles  to  your  muses  house  for  aid.

wound :   my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten.

fight :   my  muse  stops  your  muse  from  getting  into  a  physical  fight  with  someone  else.

arrest :   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  with  swarming  police  everywhere.

hospital :   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened.

gun :  my  muse  pulls  out  a  gun  on  your  muse,  your  muse  tries  to  talk  them  into  putting  the  gun  down. 

betrayal :  my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them  in  same  way  and  confronts  them  about  it.

nude :  my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  accidentally  seeing  them  naked.

karaoke :  my  muse  pulls  your  muse  up  on  stage  with  them  to  sing  some  karaoke  songs. 

laughter :   my  muse  hears  your  muse  laughing  uncontrollably  and  approaches  to  see  if  they  are  okay.

murder :   my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  committing  a  gruesome  murder.

wet :   my  muse  strips  down  to  their  under  garments  and  runs  into  the  water,  motioning  for  your  muse  to  join  them.

[seabois]

[sibellicious]

When the morning light breaks through her curtains, Sibella is reminded of the guest that is currently in her home, for in her deep sleep she regrets to admit that she had forgotten about him.

The maids come in, and help her dress, a pink gown would suit just fine.

She comes down the stairs quietly as if not to wake her guest, a hand rising to brush back her stray loose curls. 

A glance towards the window tells her the storm is gone, and of that she is glad, for surely anymore rain would cause the grass to flood and Lionel would be most furious at that. Her husband was all about appearances, more-so than herself. The appearance of a happy marriage, the appearance of a happy wife. 

She turns towards the kitchen, to make herself a cup of tea, for the servants never do correctly she should really fire the whole lot of them, when she finds her guest sitting in the parlor room. 

  “Oh. You’re awake,” she surmises, “I hadn’t realized. Shall I call for breakfast?”