tatteredxsails
Tattered Sails
Semi-selective 18+ OFMD Roleplay. Edward Teach.Stede Bonnet.
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Hi everyone -
I'm still on a kind of hiatus due to being busy with work and health things. My apologies.
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Archiving threads from Nov/Dec. If you want to pick them up, please let me know or respond to them. This is just for my thread tracker.
I'm going to respond to the 18 threads I have tracked that I owe this weekend (hopefully). If there's something I haven't responded to after this weekend, I likely missed it with my tracker. Please DM me the link and I'll snag it.
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Alt!
Thinking of a third is hard!
A long, long, long time ago I used to play Jack Sparrow. I also played Lt. Gilette from PoTC.
I've toyed with the idea of some OCs, but they never get off the ground.
Send me a meme.
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Alt!
I used to play Hannibal Lecter here on Tumblr and have been playing him again recently on Discord.
Hannibal turned the glass in his hand, feeling the smooth glass shift beneath his fingertips. It was still as cool as it had been when he had retrieved it from the chiller. If he looked, he'd see the little rivulets of condensation sliding away from where his fingers made contact. All little, insignificant, details in an otherwise significant moment.
It would be their last meal together, after all. He lifted the glass to his lips and closed his eyes and he tasted the wine -- momentarily shutting himself off from Will. It seemed impossible to do that in any other way, now. He had shown himself to the other man. Started to unravel himself and everything that he had built over the years.
It was beautiful. Achingly beautiful. Condensation sliding away from the point of warm contact. It would be a shame to have to close his eyes. Do what needed to be done. Shut himself away again.
Send me a meme.
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Alt!
I play Silna and the Tuunbaq over on @musclesandspells. They're from AMC's 'The Terror'.
Silna sat with her back up against the wooden wall, her muscles tensed to keep her from getting drowsy. It didn't work. She'd been awake for too long. She couldn't afford to let herself sleep. Not yet. Not surrounded by these strange men. Not when she had too much to think about and things that needed to be done.
Things she wasn't even sure she could do. She turned her head to the side and traced her fingers over the grain of the wood beneath her hand. It was thick. Strong. The outside of the ship was reinforced by metal. The entirety of the thing was like an inland forest and all the surrounding mountains were pulled all together and shaped into something they weren't meant to be. Made to go places they weren't meant to go.
It was strong. But it wouldn't be strong enough.
Send me a meme.
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Gonna try to fill my queue this weekend.
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Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!
#tatteredxsails:memesandstarters#memes#please reblog from the original source#it clutters my notifs if you reblog from me#please send these!
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❝ i think you're probably the only one who understands me. ❞. To Ed from Izzy @izzyeffinhands
"What's the understand? You're a fucking dick," Ed snorted, leaning on his elbows against to gunnel. He looked over at Izzy, the corners of his eyes crinkling -- a subtle indication of teasing. He reached out to pat Izzy on the shoulder.
Theirs was a relationship of knives and barbs, but there was a warmth in his eyes when he looked at Izzy like that. It had been different, when they were younger. More passionate. Softer. Time had changed Edward. Hardened him up, in a sense. He'd always been emotional, but more often than not his emotional outbursts had become anger and frustration. That quick flash of amusement in his eye was a turn of the tides.
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I apparently had my Discord set to not accept friend requests. Fixed!
Officially work at four different colleges as of Tuesday, teaching 6 classes between them so... my activity is going to be about what it is now (slow as hell) for the foreseeable future. This isn't a "I'm gone", just a... notice of continued snail's pace.
I can always be reached on Discord! My username is in my Carrd, or you can DM me for it.
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Officially work at four different colleges as of Tuesday, teaching 6 classes between them so... my activity is going to be about what it is now (slow as hell) for the foreseeable future. This isn't a "I'm gone", just a... notice of continued snail's pace.
I can always be reached on Discord! My username is in my Carrd, or you can DM me for it.
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the urge I have to make a The Terror RP Discord server
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I've moved my The Terror muses back to their side blog
18+ selective "The Terror" RP Blog for the Tuunbaq. Side blog. Follows from @tatteredxsails
Rules/About
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I'm going to move Tuunbaq and Silna back over to @musclesandspells
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"Doesn't have to be a flower, but a flower'd be good. Pretty," Ed answered without looking at him, searching around them for something that he could pretend was a fucking boutonniere. He gave up when nothing immediately showed itself, and pantomimed pinning one on Izzy instead.
"Mmmhm. Yeah, well, I'd be... I don't know, I'm not good with people I guess. I'd cook. I'm good at it," he said, letting his hand rest on Izzy's chest. "Stede can fold towels. Apparently he has experience in that now. Housekeeping. Besides, we own it. We can do whatever the fuck we want, right?"
❝A boutonniere? What the fuck is that? A flower?❞ Izzy huffed, but he didn't dismiss the idea entirely. A flower perhaps wouldn't look so bad if it was part of his every day attire. Still, pretending he was in hospitality at the moment seemed... weird. Something he couldn't just do. He could hardly understand Ed and Stede's games of switching places, of Ed trying to pretend he was like the rich assholes they would visit. Even as a child, Izzy could hardly play make-believe, or whatever that game was.
❝I do speak a couple of languages, maybe I could be useful.❞ He still tried to go along with whatever fantasy Ed was going with, even though he hardly thought that it would work out. The Inn... Izzy being there with Ed and Bonnet. ❝What are ya goin' to do? And Bonnet?❞
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"Teach," Ed answered, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth -- a gesture intended to cover his worried frown. There were a number of different reactions to learning who he was. Fear was the most common reaction. They'd spent so long building up his reputation and spreading the story that he was the son of the Devil or some shit that running away was an understandable and typically desirable reaction. Made socializing hard.
Sometimes, people tried to kill him so that they could say that they did it. They killed fucking Blackbeard.
Then there were the people with the whole "touch greatness" mindset. He couldn't predict how Thomas would react, or if he would even recognize the given surname. And that was why Edward fell back on it. Everyone knew Blackbeard. Not everyone knew Teach.
"Thomas Hamilton," He offered, gathering up the cut up net and tossing it to the side to hopefully make sure no one else got stuck. Once done he wiped his hands on his pants. Getting a better look at the man he said, "you?"
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Izzy nodded his head in Anne's direction when the English merchant looked at him as if he'd have mercy on them. Him. His kit wasn't as loud an advertisement of who who's crew he belonged to, but it should have still been obvious. It was, within their microcosm of piracy -- a whole different world from what this pleading English merchant was accustomed to.
He gave the redhead an appraising look, then spoke to the merchant, "Better do what she says and quickly. Nicest I've ever seen her."
He could have said 'or else you'll deal with Blackbeard' and called Ed's attention to the situation. The man was close enough that he'd hear Izzy shout. Izzy could hear the rhythm of his voice, but then again... he was always aware of where Edward was during a raid. That was his fucking job.
He could have. Probably was expected to. He sniffed and shifted his position slightly, letting the merchant get the idea that he would keep him from making some foolish attempt to escape.
@tatteredxsails fed the beast
“I said strike yer FUCKING colors,” Anne barked, cocking the pistol in her hand and holding it to the back of the crewman’s head. “That means pull ‘em down now or decorate ‘em with what’s left of yer fuckin brains!”
Raids usually put Anne in high spirits, the closest she comes to recapturing her hellcat youth; not so today. Because today it isn’t a Spanish galleon but an English merchant, and because today she’s in a shit mood, and because these fuckers are trying to stall.
Maybe she should torch the whole ship and have an end of it, captain’s orders be damned.
“Oi! I’m in charge a’ ye, not them!” And now the idiot’s trying his luck, making eyes at a different pirate like they aren’t all on the same crew. “Start pullin the damned ropes and maybe I won’t pull the damned trigger.”
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Is this the skull of the legendary Tiriarnaq?
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