#thepooridiot

[motherwitch]

@thepooridiot​ liked for a starter.

Although Endora would never take advice from a mere mortal, she can’t help but be curious about the opinion of her...servant from time to time. As she sits suspended in midair, an ornate hookah by her side, she looks over at him, blowing out a large ring of smoke. 

"Tell me, what are your views on marriage?”

[johcnna-blog]

☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑ can't miss the opportunity to praise my gurl ☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑☑

 Send me a ☑ if you like the way I portray my character ll accepting

ilu ilu more than sweeney the weenie 

[johcnna-blog]

You have been bitten by the random encouragement bug, because the person who sent this thinks you are a beautiful person and a fabulous roleplayer! Pass it on to ten beautiful, fabulous people YOU know and let them know how wonderful they are!

I needed this so much. Thank you so so much <3

[motherwitch]

You have been bitten by the random encouragement bug, because the person who sent this thinks you are a beautiful person and a fabulous roleplayer! Pass it on to ten beautiful, fabulous people YOU know and let them know how wonderful they are!

Thank you so much! This is such a sweet thing, you are wonderful as well!

[desmasques-blog]

@thepooridiot liked for a starter!

          Unlike many who might use the claim upon entering such an establishment, Esther had actually come to the nightclub solely for the music. Though loud, thumping bass wasn’t her ideal, the musicians in question had an inventive sound that piqued the ghost’s curiosity. She’d been taking sips from the same glass of scotch for twenty minutes--only ordered at all out of obligation.

          Though her attention wasn’t solely on the performers of the evening. Someone else among the revelers didn’t seem to be there for a wild night of dancing and foolishness. A man near the bar. Though she only cast wayward glances at him from her seat at an otherwise vacant table, it seemed he was observing--but observing what? 

          Just what role did he serve to play in the story of this little venue? Or did he intend on being only spectating? With no conscious command to her body, Esther found herself standing, glass still in hand. 

          “What are you looking for?”

[cultkiid]

@thepooridiot ; starter call.

   It was nearly two in the morning. Roxanne was working the night-shift at the Grand Teller Hotel. The place was a relic. That’s why Roxanne liked it. She would bring her Ouija board everyday in order to contact the plethora of spirits that roamed the corridors. On her down-time, she would also play and organize her Tarot deck, which is what she had been doing until the stranger had approached the counter. She looked up with a slightly offended gaze. “Can I help you?”

[hxmlct-blog]

@thepooridiot liked for a starter.

>> Read the letter. Betray the comrades that betrayed you. Hop ship for one heading north of England; the England who wants you DEAD. Drop anchor in Scotland. RUN.

Hamlet had been in hiding for two months now, longer than he ever thought he’d last. He made his way from town to town, attempting to stretch his dwindling funds as far as they would go. He struggled to maintain contact with Horatio, but it was difficult when he could not stay in one place for long. He yearned desperately for his companion, but Horatio had not the money for such a long journey and it was not yet safe for Hamlet to return to Denmark, according what few letters he received. And so he remained in Scotland. Weary, homesick, and very near defeated.

It was time yet again to move. He’d stayed too long in the last town, awaiting a message from Horatio that never came. He walked in the woods alongside the dirt road, ready to hide at the first sign of any other travelers. He had to be cautious--- just in CASE.

[the-wittyfool]

"Remember me?"

@thepooridiot

My character has amnesia, and can’t remember anyone or themselves. Send, “Remember me?” for their reaction.

Festé blinked as he was asked this and cocked his head in thoughtful consideration. Another one asking him if he knew them. The doctor had warned him this wold happen, after first reminding him of his own name (his first name he remembered automatically upon waking, but he had to be told the rest of it. It could be completely wrong for all he knew). But this one…this one of those whom he felt as if he had known, that he did indeed know…but from when and from where? When did they meet? What was his name? He could remember nothing of who he was and why they knew each other and yet, he felt this strong and unexplainable feeling of affection for this man. 

He bit down upon his lip, struggling desperately to put a name to the warming, familiar face before him. “I…I don’t know…” He finally said after a long and rather tense pause. Festé then clasped a hand to his forehead, trying his utmost and truly straining to remember, while his gaze lowered to the floor as he became more and more aware of his failure to do so. 

“I-I’m sorry…I can’t.”