Because I’m a loser and have 0 self control I wanna make some blogs for my characters but idk what??? Are there any individual characters you’d like to see blogs for? Should I do like a group blog (make one for all the mains in a wip or something?)
Idk anyone who jas an opinion feel free to lemme know!!!
He’s a little rough around the edges but if you get to know him, you’ll find a dorky and somewhat clumsy boy. He doesn’t really have a music preference so he’ll listen to anything you put on.
Even if you didn’t want to date him, you’d still have a loyal friend 100% ready to beat people up for you if the situation called for it.
hi! no worries on not understanding, ill make this as clear as i can.
while likes/kudos are very much appreciated, content that isn’t spread around and shared with other users won’t be seen by other users.
meaning, if you like that content and don’t pass it along, none of your followers see that content. if 20 people like a post, and only two people reblog it, it significantly narrows down how many more people will in turn see the content on their dash – then the content isn’t being seen period.
if your content wasn’t being seen, would you want to continue making content?
point two: tumblr is killing links. if you put up a post with, say, a link to your fanfic on ao3, a link to a song on your art piece, etc, it will not show in the tags. NOW MORE THAN EVER, content creators NEED you to share our works. or they just plain won’t be seen.
The new engineer is doing well though I doubt she will be ever prepared for Catriona’s invasions of personal space.
One of the time travellers demanded that I make another victorian corset because she didn’t want to dress as a poor person. All the corsets are in use, she can go as a poor person or she can not go at all because I am not sewing another one of those things for a long time and, if someone attempts to make me, I will have kittens.
“Where to, Captain?” an older man, grey haired before his time and rather round at the waist but still spry, asked the much younger man standing in front of him.
Bent over his desk, long mousy hair half falling out of the plait he had put it in that morning, the man stared down at the map rolled out before him.
“The nearest port to Lillium is Saguaro’s Western port. Tell Hurley to set a course for it.”
“Aye, aye,” the old man nodded and left the cabin.
Morgan, the captain of the Lost Rose, sank down into his chair and pulled out a scroll from one of the drawers.
“We haven’t gone in search of treasure for a long while. The crew is getting bored,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the map of Saguaro’s known tomb locations. “Saguaro’s as good a place as any to find some.”
A few hours past quickly for him and, hearing the shout of “land ho”, he stood up and pulled his royal blue coat on over his white button up shirt. He pulled his belt securely around his waist and made sure that his sword was in its sheath.
Satisfied, he walked out into the early morning air.
The crew all said good morning in their own way as he looked out across the unusually calm ocean. ‘The daemon must be sleeping,’ he thought, remembering how his father would tell him about the tales the people of Saguaro had about the sea.
“So…” Hurley, the chief navigator, drawled as he leant towards his captain. “The Saguaroine? She’s a pretty one ain’t she?”
“She has a name. Use it,” Morgan retorted, looking up from his book to glare at him. “And I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh please,” the older man scoffed and took a gulp from his tankard. “It’s clear as day that you have a thing for her. Why else would you spend so much time with her?”
“She’s infuriating yet intelligent. The only reason I spend so much time with her is because she’s the only decent conversation partner apart from Maurice on this ship.”
“That stings, Captain,” Hurley pulled an exaggerated expression of hurt before laughing and wandering off to his group of friends.
Morgan watched him go with a slightly murderous expression on his face. “I can think of many things that’ll sting a lot more,” he muttered under his breath.
“He’s right, though.”
“Not you too, Maurice,” the young male groaned and slumped forward slightly.
Maurice chuckled and sat down. “You’re a lot like your father in that respect. He had a thing for women with sharp tongues and spines of steel as well.”
“Look, just because she’s intelligent and witty and can handle herself in a fight and doesn’t take shit from anyone and just so happens to be beautiful doesn’t mean I like Nenet.”
“You sure about that?”
“Ye-” Morgan cut himself to stare straight ahead with a blank look on his face as he went over what he had just said. He’d called her beautiful, hadn’t he?
It was mid-afternoon when he was shaken awake by Amanta.
There’s was a complaint on his tongue but the small, mysterious smile on her face made him pause.
“What are you up to, fae girl?”
She through her head back and laughed. “You’ll see, devil boy.”
Amanta pulled him up and lead him into the room she’d turned into a studio. He’d never really been in there. It had felt like an intrusion of her privacy.
She let go of his hand and walked over to the covered easel in the middle of the room. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?” despite his question, Ardere did as she asked.
Amanta smirked and pulled the sheet off with a flourish. “You can look now!”
“Finally,” he removed his hands from over his eyes and looked.
Staring back at him was a picture of himself. He was laughing at something, his eyes soft and his light grey hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Ya know, when I met you, the first thing I thought was that I wanted to paint you. You were unnaturally beautiful and I wanted to see if I could capture it,” Amanta said, arms crossed.
“Did you?” he looked back towards her with a smug smirk despite the red blush crawling up his neck and across his cheeks.
“Kinda,” she rocked backwards on her heels. “I captured your beauty. I just think the real thing is better.”
Those words, spoken as if they were obvious, changed things. They’d known that they liked each other for a long time, they’d shown it in subtle flirting and obvious concern for each other’s wellbeing, but they’d never been obvious about it.
“Do you mean what I think you mean?” Ardere moved to stand in front of her, a disbelieving look in his eyes. “Cause I’m not sure if I’m correct.”
“God, you’re an idiot,” she grumbled before sighing. “I like you, Ardere. I didn’t expect to when I found you in that alley. I didn’t expect you to make yourself at home and never leave. I didn’t expect to care but I do. This house would feel empty with just me and Sam. You inserted yourself into my life without permission but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He stared at her, slightly shocked by her small speech but touched all the same. A laugh escaped him even as tears gathered in his eyes.
“You dont know how much I feel the same way, Amanta. I dont feel at home anywhere but here. I didn’t expect to be fascinated by you but I am. I care more about you and Sam and this house then I do anything or anywhere else,” he smiled a sweet smile, completely different to his usual smirks and grins, “you’re my best friend and I dont know how that happened but it did.”
“Come here, you big sap,” Amanta muttered, pulling him down by his shirt. She looked him in the eyes before looking at his lips. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes flicking over the paint speckled across her cheeks.
He tasted, she found, like chilli. He tasted like spices and the coffee he drunk on a daily basis. His lips, like the rest of him, were soft.
She tasted, on the other hand, like paint. She tasted like oranges and coffee. Her lips were slightly chapped despite the fact he knew she had many lip balms.
From the doorway, Samuel the ferret watched them for a moment before turning away to give them some privacy.
cheshireinunderland 