#leducdeorleans

[dhampiravidi]

Philippe & Jayn have a dance

from here:

“Practice,” Monsieur had been put through the dancing classes along with the King as a child, something that his mother had insisted on, he could lead, follow, whatever was needed depending on the partner. He and his lovers often switching during the longer dances just to keep it interesting, also learning to follow due to the few women who insisted on leading that were found in the court, not wanting his feet stepped on or both trying to lead ended in a crash on the floor. “do you need a reprieve?” he offered, his own face slightly flushed from the fast movements, “I know my brother has at least provided the best of the vine for this,” the music slowing down to another piece for another dance.

"I wouldn't mind letting others have this dance...but I would like to spend more time getting to know you--if that's all right with you, Monsieur--er, Madame? Please tell me what you prefer," Jayn replied, a nervous smile on her face. She found the prince(ss?) to be attractive, whether the royal wore men's or women's clothing, but she knew that they were already in a relationship with the Chevalier de Lorraine. That didn't upset her, though--she truly did want to get to know them outside of their one dance. As one of Queen Maria Theresa (otherwise known to the French as Reine Marie-Therese)'s ladies, there weren't many opportunities for Jayn to get to know people in Versailles. It would be nice to have a real friend, outside of those she worked with. & OK, the unfamiliar, fast dance had begun to tire her out.

(btw here's Jayn's Versailles form if you wanted to see it! I thought I'd deleted it 😅)

@leducdeorleans

[bloodofthefates]

x. continued from here with @leducdeorleans

Her expression remained pinched, cheeks red from the exertion of her anger and irritation that was quelled little by the answer her husband provided to the demand of her question. Liselotte had not been properly prepared for the viciousness of French court that was true, but she'd come to find incomparable to others in not only its grandeur but also in the king's whim of using people as pawns as much for politics as his own amusement. It was a dangerous game they all played, with livelihoods and titles always dangling in the balance like strings on puppets and it was enough to make her stomach turn at the mere thought. "It is vapid and exhausting." She breathed, at the very least taking in a deep breath as she eyed Philippe somewhat less like a caged wild animal. "Does anything actually important ever get accomplished? Or is that also at the King's pleasure?" She snapped, turning to face her husband with arms crossed in defiance over her chest.

[dhampiravidi]

Oraia raised an eyebrow in response, more out of concern for her friend than anything else. It was a shame to see someone who had grown up as a dauphin be hunting for a place to live--& even if he hadn't grown up in Versailles, she still didn't want anyone kind to suffer. Philippe seemed intent on brushing away her worries, so she tried a different tactic, keeping his situation in mind.

"Would you be breaking in to steal something, or to stay the night?" she asked, genuinely curious, "As for your hunger...I know of a blood den not far from here. It's not one of those awful places where captured humans are sold or made to serve--from what I understand, everyone is consenting & they even offer animal blood, if that's more to your taste." The den nearby usually had a handful of rooms available as well, but Oraia decided not to mention that, in case that there were no vacancies. She'd find Philippe a place to stay, even if it only lasted him a decade or so.

"I know much. That your appetite is for blood, and that you were once the Duc de Orleans," the woman said, leaning against the wall with a smile. She stood and curtsied. "I was Hortense Mancini...Your Highness."

Within the centuries that had passed, Philippe had wandered, getting lost in the new mixed with the old that made up Europe. Hearing the old title after all these years was odd, and of all places the old gardens of the Chateau de St Cloud, the only thing that remained of his favorited old home, he visited them late at night when no one was around, accessing it through an entrance that had survived and he had used when he didn’t want to be seen back in the old days. Paris still his favorite city, now filled with ghosts, and now an old friend he hadn’t expected to ever see again, “was?” he asked, smiling a little at the curtsy, “I didn’t think one changed much, there’s still a Duke somewhere in here I think,”

[thelostboylonelyworld]

Why Did The Author Kill You Off?

Plot Twist: You Didn't Die

Maybe the story starts with the hero finding out you died, or maybe you're dragged off screen just before a gunshot. Or, possibly, you suffer a wound that no mortal could possibly survive. Then, in the hero's most desperate hour (or just in time for sequel bait), you'll reappear to save the day. Something makes you stronger than most, or perhaps there was simply a grand, miserable sort of miscommunication regarding your status. Nonetheless, just about everyone will be happy to see you, and more than happy to hear the story of how you survived. Just hope that the author won't make a habit of this- otherwise no one will know what to do when you die for real.

//😱🤯😱🤯😱🤯 Wow! This quizz discovered the past/reborn of my Caim!🫠🌹AmaZing!🤩

Tagging: @claudiaindarkness @aeternalis-aelia @hauxtedbeauty @of-ivory-and-gold @thanaredreamtof @thevampireforthesetimes @thevampiremariusderomanus @justjudan247 @lumen-in-tenebris-iii @vitanya-sergienko @ofmercy @leducdeorleans @laiddownwiththedevil @sangcreole @jesscmy @beautifulsavagegarden @house-of-slayterr @honeyandpineapple

[pileofscoundrels]

A safe pair of hands

for @leducdeorleans <3

I am not a safe pair of hands.

Not a safe pair of hands.

Not safe.

The words were echoing in his mind constantly. It hadn’t been his fault, not really, it was her who wanted to experience all the joys of Versailles. He laughed bitterly, ‘the joys’, sure. And at this very moment the Chevalier would have wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his dear Monsieur and hold onto him tightly but when he sought out his company, needed him the most, Philippe was otherwise occupied.

Instead he found himself alone in the salon, a glass vial in his hands and unable to remember how he got there in the first place or when he had acquired said vial filled with liquid happiness, relief. His hand gripped it a little tighter; the familiar feeling of cold class against his skin was oddly comforting.

He was well aware somebody had entered the room, the floorboards creaking under the weight of another person in a deathly quiet environment but he didn’t dare to look up, didn’t want to show weakness or the fact that his eyes were red with exhaustion and holding back tears.

“What do you want?” he asked, desperately trying to sound unbothered, angry even.

[ofprevioustimes]

@leducdeorleans cont. from x

The answer gave her pause. Minette might have gasped, but for a sudden sense of strength and self-possession which had nearly abandoned her, so great was her surprise at having him point out such an evidence she’d forgotten to conceal. Out of nervousness, a scoff came out to cut the sharp silence in the room. “You’re insane!”, she accused him, loudly. What else was there to say? “He came over to inquire after my mother’s health, that is all. She is very ill, you know”.

[dhampiravidi]

sad soft goth who likes to get comfy & read. sounds accurate!

Tagging: @ashortgothamite @astral-athame @stars-written @vivalavillain @jaason-todd @leducdeorleans

pinterest tag game

tagged by the lovely @jomiddlemarch 💕 I love Pinterest tag games!

Rules:

NPT's for the following: @wildemaven, @gnpwdrnwhiskey, @secretelephanttattoo, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @maggiemayhemnj, @rhoorl, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @javierpenaispunk, @shirks-all-responsibilities, & @nerdieforpedro

If I didn't tag you and you want to play along, consider this me tagging you in and tag me in your results! 💕

[obediencess]

for @leducdeorleans​

It began in Rome. The influx of Parisian hopefuls that flooded Rome with their soft clicking argent tongues and expressive eyes. Riccardo had been free of the coven a spare ten years before they came, speaking in tongues, studying the great marble hunks that were unearthed from the cities ancient bowels to sketch by and render in magnificent paintings that copied the old Master’s Riccardo had been schooled by. It was again the fashion to look backward, to gaze upon the great Italian school that Riccardo himself had come from, and among these young artist’s Riccardo made his new home. He painted with them, traded secrets behind his hand, showed those that were kind to him how to mix their own pigments and soften the edges of their works in a sfumato reminiscent of their adored Raphael. It was among these Frenchmen that Riccardo gained preeminence again. And it was there that he gained his first apprenticeship in almost two centuries. It seemed the French King had grown a taste for the Italian Baroque, and no Frenchmen was better at satisfying this hunger than Charles Le Brun. It was for Le Brun that Riccardo was acquired, and retained for a time in Paris among a number of other young French and Italian artists, to join an atelier of such artists that would assist the great Master in executing some of his immense works which would sprawl across the new great palace that the young King of France was steadily building and re-building. It didn’t matter to Riccardo that he was above such work -- whatever experience this Charles Le Brun had acquired, he was mortal --  he was ever loyal to his new painting Master, and he would take any such opportunity to leave Rome behind. Riccardo was drawn like a moth to a flame to the very idea of France. They called this French King the sun itself. And though Riccardo hadn’t seen the sun in two hundred years, he imagined the warmth of it must radiate from the palace walls even in the darkest of nights. 

It felt good to be dressed in fine clothing again. It didn’t matter that the court regarded him as little more than a well-schooled workman, under Le Brun he was dressed in silks and frills and fitted with frock-coat, his inky, tight curls restrained at the base of his neck poorly by a length of ribbon. There were ruby rings glittering on his fingers again. The dust of the catacombs was finally out from under his glistening, glassy, long fingernails. And now he moved among these mortals, disguised by his olive-toned skin, as if he were one of them, simply another pretty young ornament to adorn the court. Their minds as much as their whispers met his ears in a cacophonous, sweet symphony, and he tested his newly acquired modern French among them, kissing the ladies hands, careful that they not feel the point of a fang against his smiling mouth. His ambition wouldn’t allow that he simply remain under Le Brun, no matter how kind, nor talented he was. Riccardo longed to paint more than the mere under shadows and the flushing blue sky that reigned behind Le Brun’s kittenish goddesses. It was from one of the Baron’s wives that he first learned of the King’s brother. Unorthodox, she had called him. Her much less kind companion had used a myriad of very different words, but both had concluded in much the same way. He adored the arts as much as his brother, the King. And he could no doubt be persuaded to patronize Riccardo, if it was truly his wish to step out from Le Brun’s shadow. And he must, since Le Brun’s uncontested position as the King’s favourite was now waning. 

It was. Riccardo couldn’t deny that his ambitions had grown in the confinement of the catacombs. He wanted more than to hide his work beneath the over-painting of a more famous Master. In France, he would renew himself. He painted three portraits, two of wives, one of a vicomte, before he was granted an introduction. Riccardo traded two of his rings and sold another of his works to purchase a suitable brocade waistcoat of rich Venetian silk for the occasion. He was clutched on the arm of one of the King’s old favourites, herself a patron of the arts, the somewhat disgraced Madame de Montespan, and it was she who pointed out the elegant figure of the duc d’Orleans. Even among the throng of richly dressed courtiers, the duke’s refinement and poise distinguished him as much as the long dark that fell around his unusual, but nevertheless handsome face. Riccardo studied him for a time before the Marquise urged him forward. Riccardo had come from the Venetian Republic, he had grown among men that, at least of the higher classes, looked upon one another as brother’s and equals, and only now did it occur to him that he had never been so near to royal blood. But he stood under the duke’s azurite, piercing gaze, now, and Riccardo’s face flushed with an anemic blush before he bowed. The gesture loosed a number of tight, inky coils of hair which fell to frame his face. “Your royal highness,” he said, his unusually smooth voice slightly fraught with his uncertainty. “Forgive my interruption, I was told I must speak to you, above all others, you see I...” he faltered again, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. His accent was slightly clumsy with a floral, Italian emphasis. “I wish to paint, my liege, that is all. I wish to paint, and to paint you.” 

[josephinesrphub]

“…didn’t know where else to go…” ((let's do an angst in the form of wet, bleeding Monsieur))

Alice's eyes were wide, taking in the form of Philippe, bleeding and wet. "What happened?" She ushered him in, towards the bathroom, to help him clean up and called a maid in to get him some clothes.

@leducdeorleans

[lxrrxine]

» starter for @leducdeorleans  ♡ «

During winter times Versailles was always horribly cold and the Chevalier de Lorraine made sure to let his discomfort with it be known at least once a day if not more. He had pulled the covers up to his very nose in an attempt to stay as warm as possible. Furthermore it was way too early to get up in his opinion anyway and he had refused to do so ever since the both of them had woken up wrapped up in each other’s arms.

It must have been a funny image for sure, only his eyes were peeking out from under the blanket and some messy blond curls were sticking out it all kinds of directions as they often did when he had just woken up.

“Mignonette? Can’t you tell your brother to make it warmer somehow?” came the muffled voice from under the blanket, clearly annoyed with the current temperature. “He had an enormous lake dug, I’m sure he could find a way to heat this place properly!”

[evermxre-a]

@leducdeorleans asked :  ( off track ) get lost with them.

                              NONVERBAL PROMPTS // ALWAYS ACCEPTING !!!

——— they’ve been wandering in the woods surrounding the palace for HOURS ( or at least what seems like hours ) . is this what adam gets for going along with philippe’s silly idea? why he had agreed to it, he doesn’t even bloody know. it was SILLY. now, they were lost in the forest surrounding philippe’s family’s palace. LOVELY.        “ philippe, admit it! ”  adam exclaims, rolling his eyes and kicking at a rock to release some of the damned frustration he feels.  “ you have no idea where we are, now do you? ”  if this were the forest back at home, adam would be completely at ease ; he’d know exactly where he was ; after all, how many times has he followed the servants out into the forest?  “ my father will kill me. he will completely kill me, if i die lost in a forest. ”

[dhampiravidi]

vamp!Philippe & Oraia

from here:

“I’m not sure, just to see what they’ve done, if any secret little hiding places of mine were discovered, or if there is still Louis’ ring in a hidden cabinet that I took out of anger once,” he laughed at the memory of years ago, the little hidden pockets and drawers he had used to steal away and hide important things, personal items, belongings, things of his mother, brother, letters, “although…staying the night would be interesting, have the pick of the rooms,” a little mischievous glint in his blue eyes glittered at the idea. “I usually find someone who’s…below the radar, criminals, the like that make it more fun, it’s good to know there’s a place though,” he could find dens of crime easily, follow the smell of fear covered in false bravado, their thoughts mixtures of atrocities not yet done, and done. It made him feel better about feeding off humans if he knew he was ridding the world of one less dreg of society. During the French Revolution it had been revolutionaries, taking his anger out on those who beheaded his great granddaughter, grand nephew, their children who had been innocents in it all.

Oraia listened. Then slowly, she smiled. "Be glad that you know me. There's some risk involved, I'm sure, but I'd like to come along. & this is how we will get inside." She reached out into the dark, empty space next to her & the air touching her fingertips glowed before forming a circular portal. The goddess pulled her hand away & the room that the people of Versailles used to use for parties could be clearly seen on the other side of the portal. "My power allows me to make passageways from anywhere to anywhere else, provided that I know where I'm going. So--we spend the night in your palace, you stay with me for a while & at some point in the next week, we take down the rest of those Satanic witches. Do we have a deal, Monsieur?"

@leducdeorleans

[bloodofthefates]

x. continued from here with @leducdeorleans

     Clearly she remained unamused by his answer, her gaze still narrowed at her husband ​despite his amusement and accompanying smile at the expense of the other members of court. Liselotte didn’t find her ill temper or discomfort particularly amusing, though she was just as anxious as she was excited for her impending confinement and the birth of their child. She was just as hopeful for a son as Philippe, for his namesake and the pleasure of the King but most of all she prayed for the health of their child regardless of sex. “Perhaps if you saw them more, that would not be the case...” She reminded him, rather harshly for her usual upbeat personality. Instantly her face fell in sincere apology as her hand reached to grasp his arm. “That was both unfair and unkind... I’m sorry. Their jests and jeers at the expense of us both have gotten to me. Not to mention no one desires resembling a large ocean creature.” She grimaced, rolling her eyes with a soft groan as she rested her other hand at the small of her back.

[thelostboylonelyworld]

What is Peculiar About your Soul?

Your soul is... Bright

It glitters like a winking star... Occasionally it must be covered with a tarp, so that guests do not lose their vision to its splendor. Many wonder what causes it to behave in such a way... but your collector has no straight answer; even they are unaware. Are you grinning? You can not tell... You lie coiled there in your display, revealing every facet of yourself to marveled onlookers... Your face aches? Why does it ache? Are you grinning?

//Got the quiz from @jesscmy and thought the asks very interesting. I confess I got surprised, I mean I know my boy is the sweetest and most naive baby trying to dress up like the next badboy danger, a puppy dressed like a wolf and actually bealiving he is convincing(🤣), but truly wasn't expecting.

Marking: @immortal-velociraptor @comicbookcreature @claudiaindarkness @gabrielle-de-lioncourt-anon @thevampireforthesetimes @thevamplelio @beautifulsavagegarden @the-limp-linguine @idontkillorphans @honeyandpineapple @ofmercy @sangcreole @valentinepaxton @leducdeorleans everyone who would like to d it!🌼

[chevalier-de-lorraine]

Chevalier let out a sharp breath in laughter at the last comment. "You and I both," the Chevalier responded widening his eyes and letting them rest once more as though the thought of it had shaken him to his core.

When the humour had faded from the air he looked to him with a more genuine expression. "Do you really believe that there is space for sincerity in a place like this?" There was a hint of cynicism to his voice but in equal measure an intrigue that made it clear that he was surprised that Philippe, one so diametrically opposed to the culture his brother had built, would still hold hope for such a thing.

@chevalier-de-lorraine {Starter}

Philippe woke to the crying of his son, sleepily sitting upright in the bed and looking towards the pram Lislotte kept the small child in. He looked about for the nurse, his wife, anyone other than him. He was terrible with children, used to passing them off to a wet nurse or the mother, never sure what to do when they cried or giggled or smelled, his daughters had grown up away from him and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t recognize them now, “The boy is crying!” He called, loudly, pausing and waiting for the sound of feet, any sign in his apartments that he wasn’t the only one there.

After no response and the littlest Philippe still crying he got up and stared into the matching blue eyes, sighing, “Please stop,” he commanded, shifting awkwardly on his feet, biting down on his bottom lip as the tiny human paused to stare at him, perplexed, then started crying again, “he’s still crying!” He yelled a little louder, causing the baby to cry louder.

“Well…fuck,” he swore, “don’t repeat that, your mother will drown me in the fountains,” he said to the small, wailing creature, surprised all of Versailles wasn’t hearing its cries. Monsieur reaches in the pram awkwardly, picking the lace covered infant up and staring at him, this had quieted the little one who now stared at his father with wide eyes, “oh good, you just wanted up,” he carried him across the room, holding him out like he would soil his gown, before sitting down with him, “I suppose you can’t bite me…you’ve no teeth.” He spoke to him like he was an adult, cautiously settling the wide eyed observer on his lap, cradling his head like Chevalier had shown him, awkwardly rocking him.

“this….this isn’t bad!” the dark haired male said to the room, after he’d decided he wasn’t going to accidentally hurt the baby, “I…I might can do this papa…thing…hello! Yes I’m your-oh mon dieu…” he sniffed the small baby who laughed at his fathers discomfort, “oh what have you done,” he made a wretching noise as the door opened and he saw a familiar gold haired male, “Hes done…something, and it smells,” Philippe’s voice whined a little, his nose surled up in disgust as he returned to holding Philippe Jr like a package out from his body, “How do we…get rid of it? Or fix it, or…I have perfume in my drawer over there?”

[sunxxblessed]

Shipping tag dump 3