send me ‘👀’ for something my muse has said about yours to someone else / when they’re not around.
sheepfilms
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

blake kathryn

Discoholic 🪩
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi

ellievsbear
$LAYYYTER
No title available

Product Placement
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

roma★
Mike Driver

@theartofmadeline
Game of Thrones Daily
Keni
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from United Kingdom
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@fiercefourthborn
send me ‘👀’ for something my muse has said about yours to someone else / when they’re not around.
please excuse my grandpa in the background but here’s poncho enjoying her thanksgiving superworms
i will NOT excuse your grandpa he is INTEGRAL to my enjoyment of this video
@rha-egal
@fiercefourthborn | sc
It has been some time since she has entered the dungeons. She had entered during her childhood, content that no one occupied any cells. Now there are many. But there is one cell in particular that she desires to visit. The groans of others mixed with the echoes of the click of her heeled boots. Ironrath is her’s once more. A Forrester sits in the Lord’s chair and the scraps of Whitehill banners littered the courtyard outside. He has only seen her once before like this as she commanded those who had joined her cause to arrest him. Talia is a woman grown now. Her frame has grown taller and her womanly curves have developed. Her eyes are hard as they look upon Gryff yet her lips upturn in a smirk that is enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.
“So …” the words spew, her tongue now as sharp as a blade, “here we are. I hope the accommodations are to your liking.”
So soon as the sound of steps reaches the man's ear, his every sense sharper & more alert than ever, some movement can be detected through the bars of his cell by an eye observant enough. Shifting restlessly, like a caged animal would, his only eye doing twice the work of swiftly glancing back & forth, to register the tiniest movement in close proximity to him. When the Whitehill is able to make out Talia's silhouette, his eye stops on her to not turn away again, piercing & full of cold, desperate rage, held back for now, but present, waiting for a chance of a release.
Two of them both look different now, although they have no trouble recognizing each other. Gryff's hair, that has grown longer than before, & short beard, which he did not yet possess when they met last, are disheveled & raggy; the rusty armor he wears looks ready to fall apart if it's owner makes a wrong move; the blue scarf, hanging loosely around his neck, that bears stains of dried blood, is threadbare & has lost it's color from time & dirt. There's indeed something from a trapped beast in his look, the vicious snarl, that bares yellowed teeth, the newly acquired scratches & bruises, where clothes don't hide them; but mostly - the look in his eye, that animalistic mix of fear he cannot hide & hatred, that he does not care to hold back.
“T'is better than the graves your fucking family is rotting in.” Words are followed with a dry spit & even more fury flashing in the blood-shot eye, that seems to glow yellow when the torch's light reaches it. Even as he fears, Gryff is not naive enough to believe, that begging or playing it nicely will get him anywhere, earn him any mercy from them. The one thing he knows, is that he can't stop fighting, resisting for as long as he can — even if the only way for him to resist is by growling insults.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Cast → Eddie Redmayne’s Patronus
I actually did (the Patronus test) twice as it launched. Both times I got the same Patronus. So I must really be that thing. A basset hound with long floppy ears and slightly dopey. I think they might have got it spot on.
@thedawnwitch, I’ve waited so long to @ you in this
IT’S MY TURN. I won’t be ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ any longer. I’ve waited 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, and finally it’s here.
* headcanon free-for-all
♥ is there an article of clothing that means the most to your muse?
❀ what does your muse’s daily routine look like?
◎ does your muse plan for the long-term or short-term?
◆ what is one secret your muse has?
ϟ who means the most to your muse? why?
☛ what is your muse’s biggest regret?
❥ is your muse cool?
✯ which three traits define your muse?
♕ would your muse hug a monster?
❣ is your muse a fighter or a lover?
✎ what does life mean to your muse?
@thedawnwitch
He hated everything about this. He hated being under a roof– so confined by walls and unable to see the sky save for glimpses out a window, messing with his internal clock that made even an hour stretch on forever… Though, the boredom was worse and also a likely culprit for the seemingly endless flow of time.
He hated not being able to move on. Staying in one place was so against everything he had done, and continues to do, in his life. Movement was life, and coin, and staying inside this room while he was sick bothered him– he had been far sicker before and still continued his travels…
Then, of course, was Gryff’s seemingly worried behaviour over his health. Such a thing was odd– nearly unnatural in both the way the Whitehill tended to behave and that Raleigh was simply not used to anyone other than his hounds worrying about his well being.
So, having the younger man push him back into bed as if standing was going to be the death of the witch, earned the blond a loud ‘huff’ from the lips that pursed into an expression edging dangerously towards a pout.
“My lord,” he began, trying to keep a wheeze from following as he took a breath– that would just confirm whatever worry Gryff had that had him keeping him indoors. “I am well enough–” Whatever further protest was coming from the usual grinning witch was cut off by a sneeze.
The nearby fire, that had been crackling softly, roared with the sudden will to burn far hotter and larger than it should have.
Sudden flare just a few steps from where he stood caught the Whitehill by surprise — not for the first time today, yet he still had trouble adjusting to all the peculiarities the red-haired man had to offer. At first Gryff instinctively flinched in the opposite direction from the flames, but regained his composure fast this time. The startled expression was gone from his face in a moment, changing back to being something in between sarcasm, annoyance & a tad of genuine concern.
Raleigh sure used to be more docile when he was brought here, soaked in ice cold water head to foot, trembling like a leaf & barely capable of standing on his own. Despite getting wrapped in furs & being placed by the fire minutes after their arrival — in the lord's own chambers, no less — the redhead soon showed first signs of having caught a cold, which was anything but surprising, given all he has been through. Therefore, the mage got tucked in bed before he could gain the strength to protest, and Gryff had to frantically recall all the scarce amount of things he knew about tending to sick people.
Another thing on his mind, albeit a minor one, was where he himself was going to sleep that night — given that earlier, he, without thinking the action through, had put Raleigh in the only bed available by the hearth — which conveniently happened to be his own, lord's bed.
“I'm starting to miss the way you were right after takin' the dive.” With a sarcastic huff & half a smirk, the lord crossed his arms, albeit staying on his guard, to prevent any of Raleigh's further attempts to escape. “You sure as hell didn't fuss quite as much. Come to think of it, that may have had something to do with how you nearly drowned, and then froze to death, all in a span of minutes. So forgive me for not letting you just sprint outside and catch your death out there — would be a shame, after going through all that trouble to keep you alive.”
Why he was still going through that trouble to take care of someone he barely knew — Gryff wasn't even sure himself. Back by the stream, it did not even seem like a choice, more like a reflex, instinct, whichever you like to call it. Now, when his actions became more & more thought through, Gryff has settled on gratitude as his main motivation. Raleigh had gone through as much trouble when stumbling upon the Whitehill's drunk & injured self on the road at night — it simply made sense to repay him with something of equal worth. That was how the young lord justified the decision in his head, at least, sparing himself the trouble of analyzing the rest of his feelings — just as he generally tended to do.
I’m about to replay episode 1 to refresh my brain and after i’ll see if i can download the other episodes
Buuuuuut meanwhile could you reblog this if you’re an active Telltale GOT rper? I wanna see how many peeps are there so I can spam you with my love….ignore how that sounds
Indie Game of Thrones OC
Mun and Muse is 21+
Mun has 10~ years of collective RP experience
Paragraph style w/ icons or gifs, but adaptive to partner’s style
Non-Selective. OC, multimuse, and shipping friendly.
New to RPing GoT.
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“ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ?”
“ᴇᴛʜᴀɴ sᴀᴄʀɪғɪᴄᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ғᴏʀ ᴜs ᴀʟʟ… ʜᴇ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴀʟɪᴀ’s ʟɪғᴇ.
ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴀs ‘ᴇᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ.’”
independent semi-selective ethan forrester from telltale’s game of thrones penned by makenzie
@thedawnwitch
Nvm Gryff being awoken back into existence by the resurfacing of his old pal (?); being hit by all sorts of emotion in the process
The angriest man in Westeros
TFW somebody makes unexpected art of my son :o
@vxicefromhighpoint
The words take her by surprise. It has been a long time since such gentle words have been shared between brother and sister. Too long have they argued, pointing the blame at each other, turning against each other, when it is now, when their family lies in tatters, that they must rely on each the most.
“We are family, Gryff.” She is careful to keep the tone light, not daring to provoke him, lest this moment give way to another heated spat. “Whether you care to admit it or not, you will always need me, and I will always need you.”
“You know that is not true though.“
There is no usual bite or spite in his words & that’s been so for a while now. Following the battle, the funeral of their father, Gryff seemed a fair bit quieter than usual (save for moments, when someone was foolish enough to mention the Forrester name in his presence). The grim & somber air, that’s been reigning over Highpoint ever since, seems to have been affecting him more, than anyone else. Even now, his voice sounds devoid of any strong emotion & gaze - directed a little sideways from Gwyn, as if he is avoiding looking her in the eyes, while still addressing the words to his sister.
“You do not need me, Gwyn.” He states this as calmly, as any regular piece of information, expression unreadable. Gryff himself has trouble telling, why this doesn’t make him feel more; where is this acceptance coming from. “Not in the way I do you, at least. You may care... But deep inside, you know you’d manage fine without me, or... anyone. That’s not bad” The last word is cut off when the Whitehill clenches his teeth abruptly, the only giveaway that he actually feels anything being his jaw line becoming more prominent for a split second. “That’s enviable, in fact. Wish I could be that way too. Must make things so much... easier.”
The further north you go, the more likely you’ll never come back. We head south.
written by amy.
“I love that character,” I say as I come up with upsetting headcanons for them. “Absolutely adore them,” I tell you as I bunny up sad story ideas for them. “They’re my favorite,” I sigh as I pick the most depressing songs for a playlist for them.
“I just want them to be happy,” I insist as I write horribly angsty oneshots centered around their misery.
“My son,“ I say as I think warmly about his broken body huddled on the ground.
“I love you so much”, I say, as I fill them with self hatred.
For @gryff-whitehills-apologist, Gryff and Roslin!
▻ hawke’s heros [4/35]
Fenris & Carver
@fiercefourthborn