[ Whispers, is anybody still here ]
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@sanaskad
[ Whispers, is anybody still here ]
psa; i am not above completely rewriting a reply. if my reply takes our thread in a direction u dont want it to go in, or if u just can’t work with it, or if you just want a few details changed, please tell me and i will rewrite it or edit it so it works for you. i will not be hurt or offended, i will be happy ur comfortable enough w me as a partner to say something.
’ we gotta win that fight tonight. ’
the outsiders
“What’s this we?“
It’s a quick outburst, lined to the brim with all the venomous doubt he’d done his best to keep under wraps thus far. No doubt that was bound to boil over eventually, all things considered. He’s worried; loathe as he is to admit it, even in his own mind, it is no less true. How could he not be? A loss now would prove a devastating setback, rendering everything they had done thus far entirely worthless, perhaps even making it so that recovery was but a day dream for those unfortunate souls on the losing side. It’s possible, entirely possible. The mere weight of that thought is enough to stretch frayed nerves to the shambles of their final threads, dulling the sharpened edge of a mind honed for these dire situations because…for once, it is not just his fate at stake. Such a sobering notion that is.
Suppose that, in long run, that is not a concern reserved solely for his kin. A quick glance at others littered about the vicinity proved that much; hell, proof stood just before him, putting word to the very same thought flitting through his head: they had to win this time. “ – didn’t think your lot was stickin’ around…”
i will never understand people who get upset with blogs who ‘ post too much ooc ‘.
post out of character things. tell me about your day. did something shitty happen that made you sad or upset ? vent about it. did something killer happen that made you ecstatic and incredibly happy ? brag about it.
this is a place where we continuously tell people it’s okay to feel what we’re feeling and yet the second someone seems to post one thing too much , there are people hiding behind greyfaces telling you not to expression yourself … how about no.
there are people behind these muses & screens. vent , brag , post an icon you thought was funny or attractive. tell us about that kitten video you thought was hilarious , tell us about how someone hurt you , tell us you have a headache ???? talk to us. i want to know how your day is going / went.
don’t shame someone for opening up or sharing what they’re feeling. that’s a new level of low that i’m tired of seeing good people suffer from.
They look like they’re arguing over if Ori is coming on the journey or not lol
noblestoned:
“Whatever may come of it, we have gone too far to stop now; we are all committed.”
@makhlun
“ -- y’ tellin’ me, or yourself?” Directed at him, it’s a wasted breath. No task, no commitment binds so completely that a determined dwarf cannot break away, should he so choose. He’s made a living on that, slipping away before a situation could advance too far out of his control. Not always possible, of course, but taking the opportunities presented helped keep him intact thus far. If he was really smart, if any of them were, they would do just that. So why, then, was he still here? Why had he not backed away when the first signs appeared, when their steadfast leader began his descent?
Oh, he knew. He knew well enough that it was nothing more than the foolish notion of loyalty -- to his brothers, to the Company, to Thorin himself -- that kept him there. There is no place for that in a thief, and yet... “Can’t say you’re wrong, though. No one’s goin’ anywhere -- but y’ have t’admit...they’d have every reason to.”
stuff to know about me and how i roll:
i don’t care if we only rp crack
i don’t care if we only rp the worst soul sucking angst
i don’t care if we never rp (but really i probably would very much like to rp with you)
i don’t care if we have to break canon into a billion tiny pieces
i don’t care if we do long threads
i don’t care if we do short threads
i don’t care if we only do ask box rps
i don’t care if you hate my guts and never want to see me again (tho if that is the case, WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME!? LOVE YOURSELF)
all i honestly and seriously care about is whether or not i’m having fun and you’re having fun.
"i suspect you’ve stolen more horses than you’ve broken."
Red Dead Redemption - accepting
Well, that’s certainly one way to put it. Such is the way of things for one like himself, as making off with more than he intends to use is where profit comes into play. There is a buyer for everything, some poor sap with deep pockets all too willing to take excess off the hands of those offering a “deal” of sorts; this, he realized a great many years ago, and that drop of knowledge has contributed immensely to his success thus far. It put a few extra coins in his pocket while simultaneously leaving enough for his intended purpose – to tuck it away among his brother’s belongings, where it might be found at a later date and mistaken for money set aside and forgotten. So, yes, indeed he had stolen more than he’d made use of, but could one really fault him for that? Oh, but many would, as they tend to see only the surface. No one gives a second thought to why; all they see is the stolen horse, and the thieving hands holding the reins. People are funny that way.
A breathy hum is the best he offers at first, clinging to the air of nonchalance while studying that observation. Suspicion, rather. Was it that, merely suspicion, or did it delve even deeper, bordering instead on accusation? Had she perhaps caught a glimpse of sticky fingers in action or merely overheard chatter among the others? Maybe it was the muffled argument with Dori earlier, where the subject came up for the thousandth bloody time – or, maybe she’s just talking out her ass, with no basis for the suspicion aside from racial prejudices. Hard to say. Suppose there is only one way to tell for sure without jumping to his own conclusions.
“And what, pray tell, gave y’ that idea?”
I want to rp w someone that will be so invested in our ship/rp that we eventually become rp best friends and talk every day and not only talk abt our thread but abt our actual lives and all that fun stuff u know ?? is that just me ?? or ?????
*breaks the law* *duct tapes it back together*
This is a ship respecting blog
I will never ever judge you for what you do or don’t ship. No matter how much I dislike a ship, I will never put you down for it. They are fictional characters and are here to make you happy. If your ship makes you happy thats all that matters.
Don’t fall in love with me unless you know how to love a storm. And I don’t mean the kind where you say “I love to dance in the rain” or the “lets go walk through the snow”. I am a storm of which, I destroy and corrupt anything in my path. I am a tornado, a hurricane, a blizzard, and a tidal wave all combined into one. I have never known how to be gentle. I don’t love softly, I love hard. I don’t hate lightly, I hate strongly. So please, when you tell me you love storms more than sunshine. Tell me you love the idea of a twister swallowing you whole.
Would you give up sunshine and blue skies for me? // 9:47 am (via lipstickxo)
@msaruetar
(via egyptiandeathgod)
❛ i mean, think about it: i’ve killed a massive amount of people this week but i haven’t killed you! ❜
Galavant
“…yet.” It’s a venomous addition thrown about with the same nonchalance often accompanying any fact of common knowledge. That it hadn’t happened yet did not mean it would not happen; one can never tell the exact motives of an elf, after all. Even he, who had grown so adept at reading strangers from nearly ever walk of life, found them to be an enigma of sorts, practically untouchable by honed intuition. Perhaps such sparse interaction with them was partially to blame for that, but whatever the case, his guard is up in full. He’s keeping his distance, thumbs hooked in his belt; a feigned air of ease, that is, when in truth, he’s at the ready. One wrong move on her part, one step to close the distance between them, and he’ll have a knife in hand with the next exhale. No chances, he’s taking no chances, not while that yet is still in play. “And y’know, I almost hate t’ say it, but y’ got me curious why." A pause, a beat to let that hang in the air. Oh, but he’s fairly certain he already knows why; after all, there’s only one reason people stay their hands. There is only one reason to cease a threat and step back -- at least, in his experience. Maybe he’s wrong here, but it’s oh-so-difficult to ignore the instincts screaming otherwise. “So, what d’ye want?”
I’m a very private person. You don’t ask, I don’t tell.
Unknown (via wordsnquotes)
“Are you looking for this?”
Lady Tremaine Starters (accepting)
It’s with him always, a poor reminder of days long gone, in the form of a tiny, gem-laden carving of a bird of prey, one of few things he had left of her. The occasional encounter counted for something, yes, but that tiny little charm brought him back; washed away all time lost between them whenever it rest in his palm, and suddenly he’s back at her table, listening to her fears and worries and what if the worst should happen. He took it all in stride. With sufficient practice facing such an onslaught, he knew how it would go. What to say, what to do, what to expect. It seemed to work for a time, but before they parted company, she shoved the bauble in his hand with a claim it would keep him safe. Bring him luck in his endeavors, and all that. He didn’t believe a word of it, but the thought meant the world.
Best of all, it was crafted by her own two, very-talented hands. Of course he would keep it close. He noticed when it was missing from its place against his chest, especially now when all luck and well wishes were so desperately needed – for the lot of them. When it first came to attention, he scoured everything in reach in a vain effort to find it. And now, he sees why he’d been unsuccessful.
Habit, not reason, draws a hand to his breast pocket, a quick double-check despite seeing the hawk right in front of him. In Dwalin’s hand – why? When had it fallen out, if it had at all? Had…had it been taken off his person? Again, he has not a clue when that might have happened, and for the moment, it matters little. Those are details he can ponder after it’s safely back where it belongs.
“ – aye.” Brief, barely a breath, and holding more annoyance than he’d intended. The searching hand instead reaches out, palm up, in expectation following that little confession. “So, give it here.”
Casual reminder to all my partners;
I am not fast.