Janaina Medeiros
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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occasionally subtle
RMH
Game of Thrones Daily
sheepfilms
@theartofmadeline
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Today's Document
★
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ellievsbear
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Jules of Nature
Sweet Seals For You, Always
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
almost home
styofa doing anything
🪼
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@nirnrootic
independent, selective, mutuals and 20+ only rp blog. features a variety of original characters stationed within THE ELDER SCROLLS universe. as adored by ODDITY ( he/him, 25+, gmt+8 ). * IMPORTANT. view this carrd prior to interaction !
#SPECTRALS. it's sink or swim.
independent, selective, mutuals and 20+ only rp blog. features a variety of original characters from the D&D and BALDUR'S GATE universes. as adored by ODDITY ( he/him, 25+, gmt+8 ). please look to pinned post for relevant information.
#SPECTRALS. it's sink or swim.
independent, selective, mutuals and 20+ only rp blog. features a variety of original characters from the D&D and BALDUR'S GATE universes. as adored by ODDITY ( he/him, 25+, gmt+8 ). please look to pinned post for relevant information.
i caved....... i made an astarion rp blog............ i'm only 10 hours into bg3 they estimate it will take most players 75+ hours send help
me oh so patiently waiting for my blog to be let out of baby jail so it can be seen in the tags
fuck it. here's his blog for anyone interested, he'll definitely get a handful or two of verses soon enough:
@bloodthieved
i caved....... i made an astarion rp blog............ i'm only 10 hours into bg3 they estimate it will take most players 75+ hours send help
me oh so patiently waiting for my blog to be let out of baby jail so it can be seen in the tags
i caved....... i made an astarion rp blog............ i'm only 10 hours into bg3 they estimate it will take most players 75+ hours send help
me n astarion are slugging back tadpole parasites like we're knocking back shots
@twcheaded — for ri'shardul.
It wasn’t his first time having to—associate with others for kills, and he doubted it’d be the last. Sometimes contractors were laden with paranoia, fearing ineptitude or worse. Other times, contractors found a sense of malicious joy curl the corners of their lips, plush their cheeks, at the notion of inclining two (or more) murderous souls to grapple for their gift. Sometimes, contractors just wanted to ensure fatal efficiency.
Whatever the reason, here Rowan was. Donned thick in veiling garb—a white, ornate gold-fringed mask, one that, even in the dim light, bore an opalescent glimmer to it. Swirls of pale blues, pinks, reminiscent of a muted, clouded rainbow, kissed the sides of this concealment. A maroon headdress wound his head, ensuring no matter of tress were to be visible, and a long, thick feather were to embellish the fabric, sticking out on an angle to the left. Then came the puffed, fur-lined cape, which draped over his front and back, and made it painfully obvious for his lack of arms, by virtue of how empty his flanks were.
The aftermath of a light storm filled the air with the aroma of fresh rain. The stone path, leading up to the city, were to be slippery and glimmery, reflecting murky of what laid above. Rowan kept himself off far to the side, permitting passage of the carriages that passed in a bumpy cacophony of married stone and wood with a watchful eye. There, he stood, adjacent to a tall tree flanked by a scraggily shrubbery that endeavoured to fight for its life, all day, everyday. The shrubbery was unique not only that it was foreign to these parts of the province, but also for it bore fruit to a seed that could—and has—been used for many a deadly poison.
Rowan waited.
He’d been given a vague, skeletal descriptor of his co-worker—a hulking mass of a cathray-raht khajiit, with a scar on one of his eyes. He wasn’t even blessed with knowing which eye, but Rowan had always been good at discerning with little more than tongue-bound wisps.
Looked like this was him, he surmised as cracks of fallen twigs and leaves filled his ears. Rowan adjusted his position, away from looking down at the weaving cobblestone path, unto this—
Well. Their contractor wasn’t wrong when she said he’d be big.
Rowan bobbed his head minutely.
“Listener?”
small starter call for rowan driscoll, my redguard/nord assassin <33 i love him but i haven't had the chance to rp him on here !!!
i'm in a lot of pain but i managed this quick scribble of rowan without his mask <3 he has a gap tooth and i couldn't b bothered detailing the sheer amount of freckles he has so u only get a couple
𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 !
do you want a certain kind of ship with my muse ? check out the key below & send me a symbol to tell me what kind of ship you want ! note : my muse = blog owner’s muse / your muse = sender’s muses
romantic relationships !
💘 friends to lovers ❣️ enemies to lovers 💜 love at first sight 💙 slow burn 💚 skinny love 💔 exes to lovers again 🖤 on again , off again
familial relationships !
🌼 older sibling 🌺 younger sibling 👭 twins 🌻 friends like siblings 🍃 cousins 🌵 parental
friend relationships !
☀️ best friends 🌦 enemies to friends 🌈 friends since childhood ⛅️ friends of circumstance ☁️ school friends 🌩 friends from traumatic experiences
enemy relationships !
🔪 friends to enemies 💣 stole something from my muse 🔦 stole something from your muse 🗡 bullied my muse 🔫 bullied your muse ⚔️ family feud 🛠 fueds between mutual friends ❌ guilty by association
"A delightful wedding," Fritjof corrects warmly, rough fingers reaching down to pet the fawn - colored hound as she settles between his legs once more. Hood - shrouded head rises again, now less distracted with his pups and more interested in the orsimer. The priest observes the other closer now, senses the lingering spell he has cast. It takes a moment for synapses to fire and a connection to be made
Oh, the priest nods to himself at the realization, shifting to stand before the temple's guest plainly and within 'sight'. The hounds follow, the wolfhound keeping itself within a safe distance of the orc.
"A shame you had not arrived earlier," he offers tenderly. "There would still be warm food for you," lamentation coats his timbre, betrays itself in pursed lips set in the corner of his mouth. "We do have some bread and spiced wine, if you think it would do you well." It is no substitute for a hearty stew but an empty stomach cannot afford to be so fastidious.
Fritjof, while he offers Mort food and drink, silently contemplates where to put their guest. The cellar housed a straw bed but it is eerily close to the remains Riften's forebears, hardly a hospitable place for the weary living. So the priest endeavors to offer his own humble quarters:
"Come. We shall get you settled in the meantime."
While the lost promise of warm food might’ve spurred a sadness to gnaw at his belly, Mort wasn’t one to grumble and gripe and groan at acts of compassion. He was being offered a place to rest—a blessing in itself.
“Ah, no worries,” a lacklustre, downcast wave of his hand, shooing away the lament that hung heavy on the other’s tongue, “y’don’t need to kick up a fuss for me. Just a place to sleep would be well appreciated. Probably have somethin’ stashed in my knapsack anyways.” A brief beat, mulling over his next words. Sincerity wouldn’t go amiss, he thought. “Thank you, though. ‘Preciate it.” A half-smile formed upon his lips, and he moved forward, only to knock his leftmost knee into the posterior of one of the benches, crooking the structure. He grumbled a low curse as a dull pang of pain seared up his thigh; regardless, he adjusted his spell and set to correct that which he’d made ajar.
As Mort approached, as comfort settled deep within the agitation of bone, he opted to dim his spell once more. A brief wave of release, tension ebbing, flowed over him like a stream of water—gentle and cool. The priest before him became nothing more than a silvery, humanoid-like blob.
“You the only one here? Seems like a big temple in a big city for just one priest.”
a few things that've happened so far on my bg3 playthru (MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD </3)
lae'zel she wanted to talk to me at camp but i talked to astarion & gale first and then she got pissed and refused to talk to me
i let astarion take a bit too much of a nibble and then it faded into screen and onto my fuckign corpse and the bastard had the audacity to say "something terrible has happened here" and like. YEAH. YOU HAPPENED
i didn't notice a goblin set down a grease bomb, charged my team up hoping to get a sneak attack on them, and we all fell down and were prone
@starvingtongue — for zephyr.
Calcelmo proved to be quite prickly of a historian. Quick to lash his tongue like a serrated whip, quicker still to give you a look at though you were naught but the dirt that clung to his boots. Mort was half-tempted to upturn his chin and storm elsewhere, but his intrigue with the dwemer (specifically, their enchantments), earned him enough thickened skin to withstand whatever that elf cast his way.
Something about a giant spider—Nimhe—that blocked entry to his excavation site. Having killed, pinned up the flaking, rotting corpses of guards and workers alike. If the stench of death wasn’t enough to raise your hairs and have you turn tail, her and her army would see that done and dusted.
Looked like Mort had company, on his bug squashing trip. She’d tagged along the latter part of the conversation, and she seemed capable enough. Four hands were better than two, in any case. Calcelmo promised them both a key to his museum and the excavation site should they succeed—and if they didn’t, he’d keep it for the next sellsword who happened to wander by, the elf quipped quietly, a sardonic smile flirting with his thin lips. Mort didn’t voice his annoyance, but the sour look on his face made it all the apparent to his newfound companion as soon as they turned heel.
The sound of their boots ricocheted around them. The corridor was narrow, meaning he didn’t have to upkeep his sight spell as much. The further they descended, the more the fangs of cold sunk into their bones.
“I don’t think we, uh, actually exchanged names back there.” It was an attempt of conversation, a pitiful one at that, but hey, at least they wouldn’t stalk through these corridors in suffocating silence. “Name’s Mort.”
right now going on a carrd adjustment rampage. to updates my rules, add mort, and to make it more mobile friendly. i rarely use mobile, hence why i didn't realise how godawful the muse list page looked to mobile users.
i'll let y'all know when everything is finished !!!
done !!! <33
right now going on a carrd adjustment rampage. to updates my rules, add mort, and to make it more mobile friendly. i rarely use mobile, hence why i didn't realise how godawful the muse list page looked to mobile users.
i'll let y'all know when everything is finished !!!
i know i still have like. three starters to do for mort </3 unfortunately my energy and physical health are in the pits. i'm hoping to muster at least one of them today but who knows !!!!
