w archives

hi i’m a loser who’s mutuals w a bunch of people who are really cool particularly in other fandoms but i’m weirdly nervous abt approaching or sending in memes bc im never sure how familiar folk are w jill so LIKE THIS POST if you are cool w me, without prior interaction oocly; 

  • sending you random ic asks as the mood strikes (i do this a lot)
  • sending you memes (ic and ooc) 
  • sending you ‘saw this and thought of you’ stuff via im
  • throwing an unplanned starter at you (tho i’ll prolly ping u to double check first)

as always i operate on a mutuals only basis, and liking this post does not mean you should ever feel obligated to answer anything i send you. i am literally nothing if not chill w regards to rp as a hobby and not stressful. 

  • Gold: There. Now, wherever you are, I will always find you.
  • Charming: Are you kidding me!? You're gonna steal my romantic line to forcibly LoJack your wife. What the hell, man?
  • Gold: Aren't you supposed to be under a sleeping curse?
  • Charming: I'm so mad that I woke up.

Observations.


There were no faces he knew more than hers, no eyes he stared more into than those amber orbs. Throughout the years he had watched her seduce and use that sweet mouth of hers on diplomats, ambassadors and even generals. Hesitation was not in her vocabulary when it came to facing situations. But his careful eye was how he had discovered her in a far more different light. Swain had a habit for watching every slight change in a person’s visage; it was how he had moved the tides to his favor and gained his charm within the Noxian High Command. But LeBlanc was no ordinary woman, she played the same game as he did. Their similarity had brought them to a new game of sorts, a fascinating challenge on garnering information from the other simply through wordplay and expressions. It was a game that had lasted through the years and inevitably brought together their well-knit camaraderie.

The tea table was their favorite battleground, a scattered torn land of the swords from their bitter words a site of torn flags of war – the remaining traces of their once kindred ties. He wished he had more of a chance, a longer time time to understand the complexities of the woman he had known as Evaine. But as it was fate, it was also a grueling reality that the two of them have come to accept.

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