#theselfproclaimedprince
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Ultana picked Sinead up to head to the market district around four in the morning. It was imperative that they get to the Sarkhii market very early, while the slaves were fresh and before everyone else had a chance to pick them over. She had called ahead to her favorite vendor, Lukas, and told him what she was looking for. Ultana expected that he had set aside plenty of prospects for her and Sinead to look at.
As they sat in the little zipline cab, Lethe poured them coffee.
Ultana picked up her cup and sipped at it, then asked: "We'll find staff first, and then head to the textile market to find you some more clothes. What are your favorite colors?"
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After they had gotten home and Joelle was safe in her bedroom, Seamus went down to his office and shut the door.
He took another good half-hour there to cry, and unwind all the stress built up in his body. After that, when he felt like his voice would be clear enough not to immediately worry Sinead, he called her.
As a rule, he didn't like to call Sinead when she was working, but he felt this counted as a sort of emergency.
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince
“I know. It’s so annoying that I have to wait ‘til I’m eighteen.” Unlike her grandmother, Joelle had no reservations about eating.
“Was it hard leaving your friends and family in Ireland?” She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be if her parents sent her away to a boarding school overseas - even if it was for her own safety.
Maeven batted that notion away as ridiculous.
"Of course not. I wanted nothing more than to go to France. There was far more opportunity there than there was here on this little hunk of rock."
#tumblr's glitching and not letting me trim so I'm making a new post#or rather xkit is glitching#but anyway#theselfproclaimedprince#v; argumentum novitatis#c; Maeven
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𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 : 𝙢𝙪𝙣 & 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚
I love these omg they’re so cute!! Okay, in order, we have:
Me (Psy) plotting some angst
Miles out living his best spider-life (we’re pretending that’s his suit, they didn’t have a spider, don’t come at me)
JD being the loveable himbo he is (he found a chicken and is going door to door asking if anyone’s lost a pet)
The Doctor with his newest “cool” fashion accessory (bc he WOULD think that hat is cool, we all know it)
Riley in the middle of an art binge (she has definitely drank from her paint water more than once during this particular session)
Max just out chilling (enjoying the weather, probably drinking a pumpkin spice latte or something)
And Mona, very pleased with the little frog friend she’s found (she’s named him Dirk)
— TAGGED BY: @the-self-proclaimed-prince ages ago
— TAGGING: just whoever wants to do it since I’m late to the party
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It was three AM by the time Rory returned home with bloodied knuckles, blood on his coat. The police had been called for the disturbance. Both Memphis and Turlough had been called down to the station to collect their sons. It was done.
Rory let himself into Shina’s room. Atarah stirred and came out, ready to tell off whomever it was, but went straight back to bed when she saw him.
He sat on the edge of Shina’s bed and touched her shoulder.
“Shina.”
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Delta hadn’t been Below since LevTek. His stomach felt strange as the cab made its descent. He leaned his head on the window, watching the cab drop down the Feadan, weaving through the traffic.
Ena. Sinead had promised him that they were going to Cavan, not the science district. She had promised him that it was nothing medical. It was psychotherapy, or something. He chewed on his lip, picking at the edges of his sleeves.
That strange feeling in his stomach got worse the farther down they went.
“How far is it to Cavan?”
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince
Aedon wasn’t picking up his cell. It was the wrong time of day where they were for him to, anyway. They were due back in less than a month. She wished now, more than ever, that he was here.
She didn’t want to call Maggie, Maggie would have one answer for her and one answer only. If Aedon wasn’t picking up, then neither would Bandsidhe. That left one person she could call.
She set the test down next to the other three on the counter next to the toliet. All of them had two, bright pink, awful lines.
Kamala’s hands shook as she dialed Sinead’s number and waited for her to pick up.
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince liked for a starter
New faces were becoming more and more common and Cord was beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with one of the kids. It happened from time to time, an influx of new folks coming across her little speck on the map and stirring up all kinds of new and exciting trouble.
“Ain’t no weapons permitted inside my bar but it yer unarmed, pick yer poison,” she greeted, gesturing at the sign and shelves of liquor behind her.
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince said: VioIa Davis! || npc meme (accepting)
Dr. Tanya Parkins
Dr. Parkins has always wanted to help people, to make the world a better place. Especially for people who aren’t full human. Tanya herself is an elf, raised in the human world for most of her life. She’s seen the ways magic can impact the lives of people and she’s always found it unfair that there were so little resources for those people. So she became a psychiatrist and her clientele are all supernatural beings-- or the occasional human who’s interacted with them.
Phoenix started seeing her when he turned 21. If he could have navigated insurance sooner, he would’ve gone sooner. He’s pretty sure he could’ve gne to see a human psychiatrist, but it’s a little harder to explain why his dad, who clearly did not want children, adopted him if he can’t really explain that ApoIIo didn’t give him an option. And he’s glad he game to Dr. Parkins, because it’s also a lot easier to talk about ApoIIo and untangled that complicated mess of feelings, too.
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince asked: // For that MuMu ask meme: 2, 5, 9, and 23 ^.^
Asks for people with a multimuse or multiple rp blogs
|| accepting: YES
// ......I will not tell you what “MuMu” means in German......
2 - Which muse(s) do you wish had more interactions?
// Right now, my new muse Alexander. I actually made a sideblog fo him, too, but I also write him on this very blog here if people want. He’s Eric’s landlord and neighbour, and also a hitman.
And he loves jokes. The dumber, the better.
5 - Name a muse you wish to write in the future. What’s your favourite thing about this muse?
// I don’t actually think that far ahead. The thing with muses is that they show up suddenly and without a word of warning.
And I really don’t intend to write any canon characters anytime soon.
9 - Which of your muses do you most identify with? Why?
// Definitely Eric! Somewhat. At least I’d like to think so haha
We’re both from Munich and fun-loving. We like the same style of clothes. We’re both probably gonna die due to saying the wrong stupid thing in the wrong moment...
23 - Tag a multimuse blog and write some positivity about them (their blog, their muses, etc.)
That’s mean; I’d love to tag every multimuse RPer...and tell them that, even if it looks difficult sometimes, even if there are ungrateful little shits out there: don’t give up! Do your thing! It’s tough to write multiple different characters, but the more respect you deserve for it!! Kudos to those actually managing to juggle all that and not go mad!
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1, 2, 9, 14, and 20 ^_^
ASKS FOR PEOPLE WITH A MULTIMUSE OR MULTIPLE RP BLOGS
1: Which muse(s) is/are your favourite(s)?
I have a tiny pocket of muses who are my faves, actually, although I don’t always disclose them as such. On this blog, it’s definitely Lydia. She came to life for me in a way I never expected her to!
2: Which muse(s) do you wish had more interactions?
Right now, Michael Burr--although in general, just kind of all of them? I crave variety.
9: Which of your muses do you most identify with? Why?
I don’t know about identifying, but I know I feel the most for Heather M. I try to write her sympathetically and sometimes the way I feel about her just digs me deep in the feels.
14: What is your favourite fandom to write in? Why?
I’m such a slut for all things macabre, you’ve got no idea--buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut I keep ending up with apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic stuff and I just. Love it. Watching the world come apart. Watching it try to knit itself back together. Watching ordinary people struggle with their feelings without putting up a front of normalcy. It’s fascinating shit!
20: What is the story or explanation behind your blog name?
Haha. Originally this was going to be a blog just for Lydia--but rather than a quote, I just wanted something ~spooky~ to attach her to. I feel like the blog name ended up feeling pretty open-ended and describes the vast majority of my muses, though, and I love it’s spooktacular dread!
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Six months into her marriage, and nothing had changed. Nothing had gotten objectively worse, at least, but nothing was improving, either. Erinea didn’t understand it. At least with her grandfather and father she could always read the signs. She knew them well enough to know when they were angry and when they were pleased, and when a lack of pleasure might translate to anger. Gilead didn’t have any of those tells. He seemed to flip back and forth with no perceptible warning.
And nothing she did seemed to make him happy. How could she ask for an heir if she couldn’t even figure out how to please him? He didn’t take well to flattery. He seemed to hate it when she was silent and compliant, but when she did speak he made fun of her or insulted her or grew impatient. He wasn’t attracted to her in the least, so she didn’t even have that on her side and worse... she seemed to bore him. Boredom, Erinea knew, was far more dangerous than anger.
It left her in flux. Six months. Six months and she still didn’t know how to please him. She was still left just as vulnerable and powerless to his whims as when she started.
She had asked her mother again and again what am I doing wrong? Her mother cited her temper, told her to stroke Gilead’s ego, told her to listen to him, to make good conversation, to cater to his intelligence. She had tried. It hadn’t worked. He seemed to think her more stupid than ever. A simpering idiot. A trained parrot. Sure, ever since the incident between him and her Grandfather, he had made a great show of trying to be a protective husband. It didn’t matter. He was still fickle, and she hadn’t found a way even to know what he would be like on any given day, much less how to place herself in a good position with him.
She was completely at her wit’s end. She hadn’t slept well since she’d come to the Graces, and now it wasn’t just for homesickness. She couldn’t stop lying awake at night, feeling nauseous and sick over what the next day might be like, over what kind of mistakes she might make. At least at home, she knew when a blow or an insult would land. Here, nobody hit her, but insults came without warning and stung just as much.
So she came to the sitting room where Eldina Sinead sat reading as a final resort. Her tutors had always told her that the best wisdom on one’s husband would always come from one’s mother-in-law, but Erinea had been so loathe to ask Sinead for anything. She didn’t want to cause a fuss, and Eldina Sinead was one of the biggest harijavasi Erinea knew.
Erinea felt bad for interrupting her reading. She stood there, hovering in the doorway, eyes downcast to the floor and arms wrapped around herself.
“Eldina Sinead-hholai...” she began, “...I need your advice.”
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince
"Sinead, no, I am not going to go see some Lev-tek castoff alienist, and that's the end of it."
#theselfproclaimedprince#v; the python's son#th; that's not even what they're CALLED#re Sinead getting Seamus to go visit Judah Kais#y'know
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Tracking down Orla’s mum’s boyfriend had become, somewhat embarrassingly, a bit of an obsession. And ever since that question of Leander had come up, both with the evidence of the female vocals and his aunt’s insistence that Sinead had referred to the mystery man in Switzerland by that name, he’d been poking at the Youtube and Spotify accounts.
Weirdly, it was the lyric videos that had grabbed his attention.
Handwritten. Rather, the font was. In the description, the artist labeled it as his own. That wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was how it reminded him of the letters in that old scrapbook.
They were at a coffee shop working on their respective homework when he brought it up.
“Do you think we could get ahold of those letters again? The ones your mum and Erinea’s uncle wrote to each other?”
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@the-self-proclaimed-prince
“My dude, my guy, I don’t think you understand just how much I don’t care.” Mean? Maybe a little, but she’s too hungover to care.
#theselfproclaimedprince#im so sorry#✦ ic#✦ closed starter#✦ ic: max parker#✦ closed starter: max parker#✦ verse: main (max parker)
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Rorij’s stomach was roiling as he left Moot to head home. One week, the Moot had decided. Even that was with his father buying him time. Some of the older men wanted a decision to be made more quickly.
He hated the whole idea of it. Not of children-- no, he loved the idea of children. It was the idea of how to go about getting them.
She’s an O’Neill. It won’t be difficult. She’ll do whatever you tell her to, his great-uncle Asher had said. Rorij’s father had objected to that kind of talk, a strong arm locked over Rorij’s lap to keep him from launching out of his seat to sock his great-uncle in the face.
He hated that this even had to be brought up at the moot. This sort of thing ought to be his and Shina’s private business. Of course it’s not, though, because it affects the House.
The crown of his head and the tops of his ears felt red-hot by the time he came up on his door. He opened it and found Shina in the sitting room with her books.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, out of breath.
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