#cogwright

[valorcorrupt]

😫😫😫 *chinhands*

Intimidation Meme

😫 - I admire you from the sidelines because you seem cool and I’m just a dork.

OH MY GOsh 

1) I’m not cool

2) I’M a dork

so if you’re a dork and I’m a dork we should get along perfect????

[couldntbcloved]

✭

FOR EVERY PERSON THAT SENDS ME ✭ I WILL GIVE YOU A RANDOM HEADCANON ABOUT MY MUSE. || accepting

✭- Nakoma’s special interest is animals. Don’t talk to her about animals unless you’re prepared to sit down and have a two hour discussion about animals.

[llongarm-blog]

[ enough ] reverse (because nobody's had the drive to tell drill to shut up yet and i'm laughing at the thought)

    A deep sigh escaped Nicolei as the elf prattled on and on about... whatever it was. She’d stopped paying attention to the subject some time ago. As she watched the deer she’d been tracking pick up on ‘Drill’s’ constant talking, it bolted. This caused Nicolei to move quickly, pulling her bow, nearly as tall as she was, back with practiced ease and letting an arrow fly at the quickly retreating prey. An agonized squeal could be heard as the arrow found it’s mark-- it would be a painful death. Nicolei felt sorry for the creature.     She turned to the Inquisitor, irritation flashing in her eyes as she towered over the elven woman. A large, painted hand slapped itself into place over Drill’s mouth, Nicolei’s lips curling into the semblance of a snarl.        ‘When I agreed to bring you, Sannhetssøker, I did not expect you to be so disrespectful of the hunt. Our prey dies slow, painful because of you. So, I will say this but once: Shut. Your. Mouth.”

      With that, she pushed herself away from the Inquisitor, seething. Mikah trotted along beside her, throwing a confused glance back to their companion. A whine was given to Nicolei, and his ears drooped as he was ignored in her anger. 

[couldntbcloved]

⏳ !!

For every “⏳” I receive, my muse will openly talk about a bit of their backstory. || accepting

✗ ; ——— “I don’t remember them very well.. Sometimes I don’t want to. But I’ll try.”

     Her eyes shut tightly for a moment, as if forcing herself to blink, before they opened again. There was just something about.. This- talking about it, that made her feel ill. She couldn’t quite place why.

     “They were.. Big. I think most people with horns are, though, even though I’m still quite small. Papa was tall, with broad shoulders and skin the color of storm clouds. I think his eyes were green.. Or blue. No, they were green. He had white hair, and big swirly horns. He always looked angry, even when he smiled. But he was never actually angry. You could tell when he was, though.”

     Her hands were folded in her lap, thumbs brushing over each other repeatedly.

     “Mama was a little shorter than him.. But not by much. Her horns were curled in a circle, like mine. Her skin was bronze colored and her eyes were the color of chocolate. She had little dots on her face, like I do. Her hair was the color of coal, short in the back and coming down her neck at an angle. She had a beautiful laugh…”

     Nakoma didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

[valorcorrupt]

❝ a dead enemy is a thing of beauty. ❞ (if you're still accepting asoiaf starters? 😊)

     “Not this one,” Inara refutes with a click of her tongue as she prods the half-eaten corpse with a foot, watching as it... all... jiggles a little bit. Not the worst that she’s seen, of course, but still... ew. 

She looks back up at the Dalish, and then back down again. “Ah. You were being poetic. Right. Still, gross.”