#melnchly
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fals3nd · 1 year ago
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@melnchly said ; i always believed in you, you know that? (anya for beck!)
oh. beck's hands still from the keys of her laptop and she glances over at anya. there hadn't been any sort of formal discussion about anya staying over. beck's pretty sure she's got a hotel room for the night somewhere else in the city - - - and it's not like beck asked anya not to go. but now that most of her boxes are unpacked and the furniture is set up and built, lingering around the kitchen island over a glass of wine turned into sitting on the new sofa, turned into beck sitting on her laptop while anya sits on the other end. something is playing on the tv, too low to really hear, and beck blinks.
anya's usually not the sentimental type. neither is clyde, really. that was always beck's job - - - the sensitive writer-type, the one who made photo albums and opined over things like red ladles. that thought makes her queasy and she shuffles it away. "you - - - uhm." beck looks at the empty wine glasses on her coffee table in her new trauma-induced-best-selling-memoir-purchased two bed three bath in the upper west side apartment because she can't look at anya. "you should tell the rest of the family that. we can see if it spreads." because she can't answer that with honesty. that would be too - - - mushy.
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wornkindnessa · 2 years ago
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amelia & roslin aesthetics  ⋆˚ *❀‧₊˚ @melnchly​
send "🌅" for a moodboard of our muses.​
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staredits · 1 year ago
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for @melnchly
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pyrrhk · 2 years ago
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"why did you give it to me?" i don't wear it around or anything, but most days the golden pin is on my person in some way. today it's tucked into the pocket of my jacket, my fingers curved around the edge of it but keeping it hidden. it feels like asking for trouble to flaunt it around while i'm here, like president snow can see it somehow all the way in the capitol. "the pin."
it has bothered me for a long while. why would madge give it to me? why me? why it in the first place? she knows the history of mockingjays, must have meant something by pressing it into my hand before i marched off to near-certain death. it's little more than luck that i'm here, and i just - want to know why. the pin isn't necessarily what made me...whatever i am, but it means something. it has to. @melnchly
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kcrclrezni · 2 years ago
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@melnchly said it's a privateer's life for Zoya
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"You're a long way from the Little Palace, lovely," Sturmhond calls down to her, leaning over the side of the Volkvolny. He's been happily enjoying the sun on his face and watching the goings-on in Os Kervo while his crew unloaded the goods they'd smuggled imported from Kerch. He figures he should enjoy the Ravkan summer sun while it lasts. Seemed Djel insisted Fjerdan waters always be stormy. "I'm surprised the Darkling allowed you so far from home. Or is he here too?" The privateer scans the busy street just to make sure there wasn't a brooding man with an affinity for black clothing. "Blue and silver kefta. Does that make you a Squaller?"
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barrelcrow · 2 years ago
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✐ for zoya?
{♠️ x send me ‘✐’ for me to handwrite a note from my muse to yours || Accepting x}
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sumyerki · 2 years ago
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" you shared my vision,   did you not? "     /     ACCEPTING   :   ONE LINER STARTER CALL   -   @melnchly FOR ZOYA
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pyreshe · 2 years ago
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@melnchly - ❛ is it really you? ❜ (from zoya!)
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" zoya! " livvy crows with delight, nearly tripping over mattias' legs in her rush to throw her arms around the older girl. it's been over a year since they've seen each other, but if feels like so much longer, like time and space has bent in the spaces of their absences from each other's lives. the girl is taller than she was since the last time they've seen each other- just before that fateful outing that no one could have anticipated druskelle intercepting- her cheeks are gaunt and eyes framed by hollows, but it is unmistakeably her. and she holds onto zoya like a lifeline, settles the side of her cheek against the soft and deep blue of her kefta. " it's me, " she assures softly. there is a joke she wants to make about nina not being that good of a tailor that dies in her throat, " i missed you so much "
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lionessregnant-a · 2 years ago
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EMERALD EYES assess eldest child sharply : Myrcella's position at court, like her mother's before her, was to see and, more importantly, be seen. All a girl's worth in this world was in her beauty, and Cersei intended to be sure that her beloved girl was well-armed.
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Cersei clicks her tongue in thought, daughter's delicate chin grasped gently between her fingers. ❝ Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. ❞
@melnchly ( for myrcella )
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starsspin · 2 years ago
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KATIE KATIE KATIE WHERE DO I EVEN START?? i absolutely fell in love with your faramir back in his solo blog days, and ever since i've just trusted that you were gonna knock any character you picked up out of the park (and you know what? i was write). you are genuinely just such a joy to talk to and to write with, and the love you breathe into your characters animates them in the best ways. and don't even get me STARTED on your ocs, i genuinely feel like i've read novels about them, they (and their world) feel so *real* to me.
ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.
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wornkindnessa · 2 years ago
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amelia & elain aesthetics   ⋆˚ *❀‧₊˚   @melnchly​
send "🌅" for a moodboard of our muses.​
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staredits · 2 years ago
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for @melnchly​
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cathaedra · 2 years ago
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      *      MELNCHLY      /      ft.   cassia      —      “      you’ve   had   every   piece   of   my   heart   since   the   moment   i   met   you.      ”
milo’s   brows   knit   together.         cassia   has   his   hands   in   her   own,   holding   him   close   and   still   as   she   so   often   does   when   she   can   see   his   worry      —      sense   his   fear.      he   learns   to   bury   it   deep      —      hide   it   where   no   one   can   find   it   or   feel   it,   not   even   him      —      over   the   years   before   pompeii   and   before   @melnchly​​.      but   cassia   chisels   at   those   walls   from   the   start.      she   looks   at   him,   from   the   very   first   day,   with   an   understanding   and   transparency   like   none   other.      she   allows   him   his   walls   when   he   needs   them   and   pushes   them   down   when   they   do   not   serve   him   well.
he   squeezes   her   hands   between   his   own.      they   are   so   small   .   .   .      she   is   so   small,   but   so   brave   and   bold   and   beautiful.            “      i   did   not   think   i   still   had   a   heart   to   give,      ”            he   replies   quietly,   over   the   crackling   of   the   campfire   before   them,            “      before   you.      now,   all   of   it   is   yours      —      but   you   already   knew   that,   didn’t   you?      ”            what   else   could   explain   this   that   exists   between   them      —      this   attraction   and   connection   like   no   other?
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korolnichevoya · 2 years ago
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how did nikolai discover he liked ships/sailing/etc as much as he did? what are his best memories associated with that?
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              AFTER  HIS      time  in  the  service  of  the  first  army ,  nikolai  went  on  to  apprentice  himself  to  a  shipwright ,  a  gunsmith ,  and  a  civil  engineer .  while  he  excelled  in  all  aspects,  he  found  a  special  joy  in  shipbuilding ,  and  the  subsequent  sailing .  his  apprenticeships  all  helped  influence  each  other ,  making  him  an  even  better  inventor  and  designer  than  he'd  been  before .  the      volkvolny      is  a  ship  of  his  own  design  and  he  loves  her  more  than  most  things .
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cubcrowned · 2 years ago
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let it be known that pippa melnchly is an enabler
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kaerinio · 2 years ago
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@melnchly approached her grace: ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . (+rhaenys!)
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ㅤㅤㅤWhere could he have stalked off to . . . and at such an inopportune time ? Morenna will soon be knocking at the door of the princess's bedchambers, expecting to find her draped in the Myrish lace dream she spun up for this evening's feast ; however, any alterations will have to wait. A more pressing matter has summoned her here to Rhaenys’ chambers, where she kneels, having just scoured the shadowy space beneath the massive bed. Now, silver brows knit together as she assesses the intricately-patterned ceramic bowl near the door, which holds a large pile of untouched food : a meticulous arrangement of venison and salmon. Some in Fleabottom pray to the Seven for such a fine offering ( cooked, of course ), and yet, it may spoil and go to waste. Her jaw clenches.
ㅤㅤㅤHow could he possibly ignore such a boon, especially when he need not hunt for it, need not overexert his old, weary bones ? How could he forsake the promise of a stroke on the ear or a scratch beneath the chin ( if he is sweet ) ? Daenerys casts a discerning gaze across the chamber once more, scrutinizing every single surface that he could possibly be hiding under, as though he will magically appear after all their hunting. Beyond the room's heavy doors, the Keep is a hive of activity : servants rushing to and fro, preparing rooms for their guests, guards combing over every entrance to gurantee the security of the castle, and dressmakers and tailors storming about in a flurry of silk and lace and linen, making their final adjustments to the family’s raiment. “ He is such a grumpy thing, and the elderly do value peace and quiet. I should not be surprised if he decided to hide far from all the racket, ” she offers gently, rising from the floor. Though, to tell it true, it would surprise her even less if Balerion had run off to play the part of his namesake. It is not unusual to stumble upon him prowling towards some helpless creature, his fluffy body low and those luminous eyes narrowed with ferocity. He is a dread, indeed, to all birds and mice and insects. “ Worry not, sweet Rhaenys, we shall find him, ” she declares, crossing the room to sweep up Balerion's breakfast in one hand. In the other, she takes Rhaenys’ offered hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She smiles, then, determined. “ Where should we begin ? ”
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