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“youre in college! You dont have to ask for your parents’ permission anymore!!!”

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KNOX FOREVER UNTIL THE END.

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patroclus’ narration: i fell down a ravine one day, so that gave chiron a handy opportunity to show us how to set broken bones.

achilles narrating the same event: four chapters minimum of suspense, angst, and fear, unintelligible rage noises, graphic descriptions of how he’s going to fuck that ravine up later

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boycott wishmongering  her characters will make you So Intensely Sad at four in the morning and she’ll follow it up with falling asleep and i do not like her at all

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Are you in love with someone?

Nah I got shit to do

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We’re adults, but, like…adult cats. Someone should probably take care of us, but we can sort of make it on our own.

my roommate, on the question “are we adults” (via disjunct)

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Well Mr. Darcy and I are basically the same person bc I like to stare at attractive people from afar and I’m really bad at making conversation

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i also hate physics because it’s always like “Assuming we live in a world with no wind resistance where everything is made of ice, determine the speed of this ball” we dont. we dont live in that world. get off my ass

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TALISMAN + miya mikhailov

like this: five years old and told to sit still, hands tucking her hair behind her ears to take the sting out of the words and miya’s far too young to remember to not lean into the touch. forgets in that moment that such neediness was pathetic and greedy and young ladies of the house of mikhailov are expected to know better. (it is only the men in the family who are allowed such base desires, such human responses, how could she have forgotten?) she is old enough to straighten after, an apology on her lips and something like fear staining the back of her throat when her mother slips the leather cord around her neck, settles the jade over her chest and smiles down at her like jade and daughter were each where they were meant to be. the name for it is family heirloom; the weight of it is called expectations, is called rules and constraints and miya itches to cover the pendant with a hand before its soft glow could fade and betray her. 

relief loosens her shoulders when she meets kostya for dinner and catches sight of a dragon curled proudly above his heart. he puffs out his chest with pride and she almost imitates him before she remembers her phoenix expects something quite other of her. 

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“It is a condition of monsters that they do not perceive themselves as such. The dragon, you know, hunkered in the village devouring maidens, heard the townsfolk cry ‘Monster!’ and looked behind him.”

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emiliya mikhailov never suffers from the wistfulness of wanderlust. she makes a list and casually - secretly - gets to it. 

features: hong kong

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monster is your word for the face staring back at you in the cool glass, expression every bit as unreadable, no disdain to be seen in either the curve to your lips or the dark tint of your pupils - you’re both far, far too good for that. for a betrayal of that magnitude, for that much carelessness - now that is a word not oft used to described emiliya mikhailov. instead, as so often bandied about, consider these: charming, considerate, well-mannered, demure. and that’s only in polite circles - the rabble at fleafarths academy have a far wider vocabulary to describe her, but that’s neither here nor there.  there’s no monster at fleafarths academy - just a girl a hint too ambitious, a great deal too proud, too stubborn for her own good. 

the monster awaits her at the end of each semester, patient as anything, caught in the gilded cages of the family manor or other manors just as restrictive and bitter for it, in social circles too small and leaving too much of the world unexplored. lips too bright a red, eyelids painted gold, the temerity to share her name. 

how the people loved her 

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this and this and this; the setting to emiliya’s halcyon days

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jumping on the bandwagon hella late like the cool kids do - hi, i’m lyss c: i’ve been suffering in silence for aaaages (read: seeing s o many pretty chars and not having the chance to gush over them) and i’ll put up with it no more. please please please feel free to add me on aol - princesslizardx (which serves too as a reminder to NEVER let your friends choose your username for u) - for plots and gushing and yes. all the best stuff. 

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i’ve given up on doing anything beyond staring at the beauty that is aurelien muller’s stupid-beautiful face. literally. just. first i was distracted into just staring for a good couple of hours. and then after i’ve finally worked up the discipline to write out proper blurbs my laptop committed hara kiri twice. i. just. i give up. here are my two loves: 

emiliya mikhailov is a nightmare dressed like your (traditional pureblood elitist af) mama’s daydream

valentin mercier is a muggleborn arts trash who can and will bite (though you will probably like it)