My muse is not always nice.
My muse can and will kill.
This is in character, and in no way, me against you.
I will warn you.
I will explain why my muse behaves like that, if it is appropriate to, timing and plot wise.
I will attempt to give you a way out of it.
But I will not change my muse’s character for you.
If your muse pisses off my muse, and my muse wants to attack and kill yours, there is only so much I can do to ensure that my muse is still in character. If you do not want your muse to die, please discuss with me.
But if you keep pushing my muse, despite being warned that death is what my muse desire for yours, please face the consequences with no negativity.
Speedpaint, 25 minutes, practice in using no lines/lineart, only pure layering colour on top of colour, bare minimum of ctrl+z and eraser (as in nearly none at all except for neatening up)
Stephen Amell is a babe.
I need more RP blogs to follow. Thank chu!`
「 ☠ 」
“Good point, actually, but strangely enough I actually am interested.”
To an extent, at least.
"…..are you sick or something? I think I need to run you by Huerta."
Limits of the Human Body by Soda Pop Avenue
I am a writer I say as I reblog this
i am an a R TIST
FUCK THIS I’M A MURDERERHey, I just like to know my limits.
One day I shall be someone’s favorite rp partner
Belle looked at him incredulously. He couldn’t be serious. A mission already? What were they doing sending him into the field so soon after his injuries healed up?! Her eyes flamed with anger at the Alliance. How dare they demand this from him? He was the galaxy’s savior! He couldn’t take a few years off?! She slammed her eyes shut, blocking out the man before her. Shaking her head vigorously, she spoke. "No. No, Ryan. You’re not ready yet. This mission will kill you." She tried to steady her voice against the riotous emotions that whirled inside her.
She knew why she was so worried for him, but she could never admit it. It would never work out, their ideals were too far apart. She squeezed her hands into fists so tightly that her nails left tiny crescent marks on her palms and met his eyes. She knew he would fight her on this.
Shepard glanced over his shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow as he packed a bag to transport his things to the Normandy; the two had become friends after the war ended and he had been released from the hospital, but he had asked Hackett to send anything he could do his way once he had been completely cleared medically, because while the rest was nice and all, he was plenty ready to go out and do something. He felt so useless just sitting at the apartment all day.
"I’ve been medically cleared to do whatever the hell I want and my ship’s repairs are done. What more do you expect me to need before I’m ‘ready’?" Shepard had survived a lot in his life, even before he enlisted in the Alliance. This little mission he was going on was nothing compared to any of that. "Your concern is touching - really, it is - but I’ll be fine."
Never, in her entire time knowing Shepard, has Cecilia ever failed to take the bait. Whenever she can, she jumps on the opportunity to bicker with him, as if it were her favorite past time. But now she sits at her desk, despondent, ignoring the sarcastic comments and his sneers, overlooking the way he begins to rifle through her cabinets. In time, she will come back to herself, remember she has a duty she must carry out no matter how heavy her heart is, but for now, she wants to allow herself to wallow in despair.
She reads the message again, face schooled expertly into a blank expression though she’s truly not far from frustrated tears and full on tantrum. She can’t say it isn’t fair, but to not even have been evacuated, to be so close to an Alliance military post but their pleas for help fall garner no response, and to be completely obliterated under the reasoning that they just weren’t important enough to even attempt saving…What’s left to fight for if home is no longer an option, and loved ones have already passed?
He stopped rummaging around in the cabinet when there was no response to his jab, and he glanced over to observe her before he said anything. It didn’t take him long to figure out what had likely been in the message she had received; Shepard’s jaw set as he deliberated what to say to her. He might have been an annoying hardass, but he was by no means heartless. He could empathize when he wanted to.
"Hey," he called to her softly, hoping to get her attention this time around. "Everything alright?"