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@noetiics-blog
...i think i’m gonna archive this blog for the time being. morgan has consistently been one of my more fickle muses, and frankly i have too many blogs
i think i write with most of y’all on my other accounts, so catch me over there!!
ofthelace:
The irony does not escape her, quill to parchment in a rare moment of quiet and her own chin cradled in her hand in much the same manner– a letter to her parents, weeks overdue but words fleeting on the page. Charlotte never been much a writer, even if she considers herself one in conversation, but in some ways, they are easier to mold. Easier to lie with, if she’s pushing for honesty.
She does not know why he chooses now to breach the subject, and tenses slightly at Mother from his tongue, quill falling from her hand and ink spatters falling through wooden cracks.
Only for a moment, however, and she’s smiling, easy as they come.
“Weeeell,” there isn’t a nice way to phrase it, but oh, can she try, plucking feather quill from its place with two careful fingers, loath to get them covered in ink. “I never thought I was forgettable to begin with, but– well, things happen. It’s a little odd, but that doesn’t mean you won’t remember anything later, right?”
He sees it, the little flinch, her quill dropping and dashing ink across the table, and feels worry settle in his stomach. Should he not call her mother? He doesn’t remember a thing about her, but ammi loves her, and so his mother she must be. But he still doesn’t know her, so is mother too familiar, too familial a term? He wishes he could relax at the sight of her smile--how pretty it is--but really it only feeds the beginnings of fear.
“You’re not forgettable!” he protests, even though he knows he’s gone and done just that, even if he hasn’t the faintest idea how or why. “You’re wonderful, mother!” He flushes, heat crawling up his cheeks at the sheer conviction in his tone, because how could he really know?
“But...I can’t remember you right now, and I’m sorry.” His chin tucks towards his chest as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his tone more somber than usual. “I want to remember you...I swear to you that I do.”
armsthriift:
[ ♡ ] ——- No man left behind. And Inigo knew full well that if the roles were reversed, that Morgan would waste no time doing anything he could to ensure that they both made it out alive. Inigo couldn’t let him die here—-it just wasn’t his time. Not to mention Robin would undoubtedly have Inigo’s head on a platter should she find out he left her son ( and basically his cousin ) behind to be torn into pieces without doing anything he could.
❝ I’m not leaving you ! There’s no time for this discussion, Morgan ! ❞
Aligning the other on his back comfortably, the mercenary tosses a glance over his shoulder to see the gurgling monsters juuust now breaking out through the treeline. Skittering through blades of grass in a start to run—mind in a wonder why nobody else had the sense to turn around, or even notice they were falling behind. If he hadn’t stopped for Morgan–that might have been it. And that thought in itself made him uneasy. To lose one of them while they were already low on comrades how it was with it just being the thirteen of them.
But he can only run so fast while whipping around and balancing on his heels to view the distance between them and the enemy. Damn, these guys could run—stumbling but once, up enough to gain himself back quickly. It wasn’t time to fall, they had to get somewhere safe—-but such a place was near impossible to find. And it was a longshot to think any of the other children would hear him yell for help. Thank Naga for Morgan being so lightweight on a body that carried more than just skin and blood—-but sin and decision.
❝ Just hold on tight. I’ll get you out of here. ❞
“But there’s no time to waste on me, either!” He retorts, fear lacing his tone. He understands why Inigo refuses to leave him behind, but what good would it be if they both fell as a result? Amma would be devastated to lose both her son and nephew-in-all-but-blood in one day, better for her that at least one of them lived to fight again, right? He bites back a curse as Inigo hefts him onto his back (for once, Morgan’s grateful for his small stature) and begins to run.
If there’s no way to convince Inigo to prioritize himself, then Morgan will just have to make the best of the situation. Not that he’s particularly reluctant to do so. His proposal to sacrifice himself so that the others may live aside, he rather likes being alive and with his parents and friends.
“Only if you keep looking ahead. I’ll tell you if they’re getting close.”
And maybe offer a bit of defense, too. He shifts, one arm clinging to Inigo tightly as he fumbles for his tome with the other, only to switch arms once the book is in grasp. All that’s left to do is see if he can twist around enough to aim without falling off, but how hard can it be? Plenty of mages cast their spells from horseback...this can’t be so different, can it?
@noetiics ♡’d for a starter!
❝ There you are, Morgan– ❞
A soft laugh escapes Robin’s lips as he approaches his son, a small satchel in hand. He’s just returned from a trip to town– One he would have invited the boy on, but… There was a reason he hadn’t, and it’s currently sitting in that bag.
❝ I was looking for you, dear. Are you busy at the moment? ❞
It would be a lie if he said he wasn’t the tiniest bit disappointed that he hadn’t been invited to run errands with his father, but he’d smiled dutifully when he said he’d go alone. Even so, his expression brightens considerably at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Papa! You’re back!” He scrambles to his feet, brushing dirt off his trousers as he makes his way over. “I’m not busy at all--I was just brushing up on one of the books you lent me. Did you need me for something?”
mmmm okay i need to get sunshine boy started again like for a short starter!! alternatively come holler at me in im if u wanna plot something
mmmm okay i need to get sunshine boy started again like for a short starter!! alternatively come holler at me in im if u wanna plot something
mmmm okay i need to get sunshine boy started again like for a short starter!! alternatively come holler at me in im if u wanna plot something
「 ☽ 」yo. hit that like/reblog if you’re interested in interacting with an indie nn/nah; she’s got a fates verse in the works. ✨
waves awkwardly hello
amnesiums:
i’m sorry to kinda take another hiatus so soon after my last one, but i really need to direct my energy into just…making it through this election’s aftermath.
that isn’t to say i’ll be gone completely. if i’m feeling up to it, or if i think a certain thread will help me through this, i’ll write it. i’ll probably lurk around every now and then, too, and i’ll be on skype. i just…need time before i write anything heavy, i think, or before i can really attend to my muses’ experiences and emotions.
thanks for your understanding
Reblog if you do NOT mind or care if someone CAN’T answer your sent asks or memes.
rockinrpmemes:
rockinrpmemes:
Sometimes muns have too much to do & muses are fickle. Also, you understand that muses & muns can’t always think of something to reply, & it would be too OOC to force something out.
It amazes me how many people reblogged this with a completely OPPOSITE caveat attached. The point of this PSA is allow your partners a “get out of jail free card.” ASKS AND MEMES are not the same as threads. Asks and memes are NOT AS IMPORTANT. If you seriously expect EVERY ask and meme you send out to be answered or for the mun to send out a constant “hey I can’t answer it” message every time they get blocked, that is counterintuitive and selfish. THE POINT OF THIS REBLOG was to indicate that you, the mun, won’t pressure your partners and make people feel like shit for not answering.
By DELETING THE OP CAPTION and tacking on: “sure, as long as they tell me because I hate assuming they hate me” or “I can wait forever!! take your time!” NO. You missed the point. This PSA is stating that you are relinquishing the pressure from a receiver from having to reply to every single ask you send them if they are overburdened or can’t think of something, or your muse’s meme does NOT fit their muse’s vibe. CASE CLOSED NO FUCKING CAVEATS.
@armsthriift ( continued )
Morgan knows that he won’t last long--his tome is half-empty, and he only has a blade for defense once it fails (and his swordplay, he knows, isn’t enough to take on a whole crowd of Risen when he’s at his full strength, with his ankle unable to bear his own weight, he doesn’t stand a chance). He’s going to die, and he knows it, and though the thought terrifies him it brings a strange kind of peace, a kind of acceptance, as well. Well, until he hears Inigo’s cry.
“What are you doing?” He’s grateful, truly he is, but this is stupid, pointless, and he doesn’t want his friend to go down with him. “We’re never going to make it to the others!” But Inigo is stronger, and Morgan can’t stop him from hoisting him upright and onto his back. “Inigo, please.” He can hear the Risen drawing closer, their groans filling the air around them. But that doesn’t mean he’ll accept help without a word of complaint.
“I won’t let you die with me. Just go!”
❛ Run while you can while you still have the chance ❜
♖|| SET IT OFF PROMPTS ;; ACCEPTING
[ ♡ ] —— Run. It’s what he already wanted to do. His legs were ready, every part of him wanted to turn and go with the rest of them. Morgan was brave—Morgan was just as strong as any of them. He could handle himself, if he hadn’t fallen to a disadvantage. But Inigo feels like this is some sort of deja-vu . . . there’s something familiar about this. Instead, the mercenary is frozen, a rustic gaze glancing back and forth between both parties. Being stuck in the middle is never a gracious predicament.
❝ Morgan—I’m not leaving you ! J–just hold on one second ! ❞ Inigo hasn’t ever been good at coming up with plans, and this is just about the time when panic sets in. As much as he wants to save him, it’s unsure if he can save himself. He’s no hero, he never has been—but damnit, he had to try just this once.
A rush to the other’s side, a quick glance to make sure the Risen haven’t gained too much ground on them. With how much Morgan was struggling to get up, it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk to get out of this. Inigo isn’t a healer, but he knew a sprain when he saw one. They’d been running for so long, was it really a surprise that the smallest one’s ankles giving out from under him ?
Growls from the distance, echoing through their ears and sending impromptu air through their hair. Hurry.
❝ I’ll carry you—c’mon ! We go together or we don’t go at all ! ❞
s w e a t s
i have like zero threads rn so i guess have a starter call!!
"I can't sleep" Starters
[ contents below are super cute and might get a lil angsty! ]
"C-can you stay for a while?"
"Rub my back please?"
"Don't leave me."
"What do you do when you can't sleep?"
"Why are you still up?!"
"You need to sleep!"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"You should be sleeping..."
"Are you okay?"
"I'll get you a glass of water."
"Sleep with me?"
"Please stay."
"I don't want to sleep alone."
"I'm scared of the dark..."
"I had a nightmare."
Here’s to us, the rotten children: They made us into violence. Your bones, your skin, it’s all been turned into ash. Here’s to us, those born of violence, turned into a war-ground.
We are beauty and fire; ash we may be, but we are stronger than them. (via tovebloma)
Dark magic crackles in his palm, bringing a little smile to his features. Perhaps he doesn’t quite have the interest in bloodshed that Master Grima wishes had, but with each curse that he casts he thinks of how far he’s come, how proud Master Grima says he is, and it is this, above all, that drives him. Risen ooze from the ground, lurching forward on unsteady feet as he surveys the battlefield. The rebellious forces will be arriving soon, according to their reports, and he has every intention of wiping them all out.
But amongst the enemy is a boy, one he realizes--with the slightest pang--is familiar. How long has it been since he’s seen a familiar face? He doesn’t know--but it also doesn’t matter. He cannot falter, and yet...
It feels wrong to simply fling the magic he has at a boy he once knew, once played with in the time before Master Grima was the center of Morgan’s world, and so, he steels himself.
“Turn back, and I’ll let you go.” For now, he adds mentally, knowing that if Master Grima were to order him to eliminate a childhood playmate, he would. But he hopes Inigo recognizes him, recognizes the silent plea in his words, and that he won’t be the one to spill his blood across the ground.
@armsthriift
