Joe Things

Name: Joseph Brandstone

Alias/Nicknames: Joe, Joey

Gender: Male

Age: 38

Zodiac: Taurus

Abilities/Talents: Carpentry, lifting heavy things, singing (at least he thinks he’s good at it), making food and drinks disappear

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil

Religion: Grew up around worship of the Light but he’s more druidic, believing in nature spirits.

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common

Family: George Brandstone (father, deceased), Mary Brandstone (mother, deceased), Gennesy Crestwell (fiancé), Jasmine (daughter), Mary (daughter)

Friends: Joe’s grateful to have a ton of friends. His closest friend is probably Orin @easternkingdomer who he considers a brother. He also considers @tralaia, @ciralinroseshadow @elaianna, and @thomasstalsworth to be close friends.

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / engaged / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other (Beefy, strongman physique)

Hair: white / blonde / brown / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (hazel)

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 6′10″

Scars: Claw marks across half of his face, bite mark on his neck, burns across his chest and sides in the shape of a rod, and lashes on his back where he’s been whipped.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

Songs that remind you of them:

1. Drinkin’ Problem - Midland

2. Whiskey and You - Chris Stapleton

3. Simple Man - Lynyrd Skynyrd

Tagged by: @elaianna and @the-fearless-ragamuffin Thanks =)

Tagging: @tidesage-crestwell @eilitheandiel @lady-rian @steelmantle

#was a while ago but I finally got to this

brandstonethings

Two New Stars

Joe didn’t believe he could be this happy, he had to keep pinching himself. He smiled softly down at the two tiny new faces he and Genny brought into the world, after having climbed out of bed without waking neither her nor Plum, a feat on its own. It was tempting to reach down into the cradle to hold his girls, but they were sound asleep and that was enough.

Normally, being cooped up indoors would not sit well with him. He had no choice in this case, what with the bounty still on his head and still the urge for strong drink. It hardly seemed to bother him this time, none of it seemed to matter. He was able to stave off his urges whenever he looked at his beautiful daughters. Jasmine and Mary were their names and they were two new bright stars shining in his life. He wondered what they were going to grow up to be someday.

He sighed with a smile still on his face. He guessed it was time to go back to bed. “G’night, my sweet lil’ angels,” he whispered. “See you in the mornin’.” He couldn’t wait till then.

@tidesage-crestwell

#wayyy late on this #but Joe's a daddy now yay ^_^

brandstonethings reblogged

sailor-munli

sagamemes

crucial muse development questions. send a number in my inbox to find out more about my character as a person ( because often, the most important things about character development have nothing to do with their shoe size or netflix queue ).

what would completely break your character?
what was the best thing in your character’s life?
what was the worst thing in your character’s life?
what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?
does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?
what is your character reluctant to tell people?
how does your character feel about sex?
how many friends does your character have?
how many friends does your character want?
what would your character make a scene in public about?
for what would your character give their life?
what are your character’s major flaws?
what does your character pretend or try to care about?
how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?
what is your character afraid of?

brandstonethings

A New Face

GIF by tutelele

The faint glimmer of the gold pocket watch flashed the prisoner’s eyes each time it went left and right. The cell within the Stockades was cold and dark, lit by only a few torches, yet the watch’s face shone brightly as it swung on it’s chain held by the raven-haired woman who sat across the old wooden table. The sight of a pretty face in a lonely place like this was enough to draw any man’s attention, yet now the only thing in the room that captivated him was the luxuriously decorated timepiece, his eyes following ever more intently with each passing.

Though however bright the man found the watch to be, a dark glow emanated from it, trying to swallow what little light there was left in the cell. He felt his eyes grow heavy.

“That’s it, Mister Stuart...” her voice came as soothing and smooth as silk while her grey-green eyes pierced into his soul. “Look deep within the watch and you will find yourself. You will see the truth... You never wanted to hurt anyone. You were a family man, you loved them and you couldn’t just sit by and watch them starve or sell themselves. So you stole. Plundered with a crew of pirates, and sent your share back to your family. It wasn’t enough though. You needed more, they needed more... so you stole all the plunder for yourself, right under the nose of your captain.”

The man nodded along with her words as his eyes struggled to remain open, but still they followed the back and forth of the watch. “I... I buried it all,” said the man.

“You had to. You had to keep it safe for them. But now you must get back to your family Mister Stuart. You will tell me where it is. It is the only way to absolve you of your crimes, the only way you can be free again. Where is it buried?”

“I buried it... under an old ruined chimney... behind Stone Cairn Lake.” The man spoke plainly, the tone of his voice, unanimated.

The woman smirked. “Thank you. Now, when you see the watch stop, you will fall asleep and when you wake, you will have no memory of this conversation. You will behave for the rest of your time here and your freedom will soon follow.” With that, the woman’s gloved fingers pinched the watch to a halt and the man fell asleep in his chair. “Goodnight, Mister Stuart.”

She got up from her chair and turned to the lone guard who stood by the door. She slipped a hefty sack of coins into his gauntleted hand. “See that the treasure is found and delivered to me by morning. And if you should have any thoughts on serving yourself when you find it, just remember what happened to the last man who thought the same.” The guard simply nodded, not daring to say a word and held the door as she left.

#Charisse Lovett #new alt

brandstonethings

Even If It Kills Me...

Following...

The evening was becoming night fast and his wounds were bleeding ever faster, the world around him fading into a blur as he struggled to maintain consciousness. Joe never before realized more than in this moment how comfortable it was to lie on a cool bed of grass, alone, in the quiet peace of night. He let his heavy eye shut for what seemed like a single second before he drifted.

He saw friends, ones who had passed and ones who still remained waving to him. He saw his mother and father, beckoning to him, calling out to their boy in the fields to come home for dinner. It was warm, like under a cozy blanket by the fire. He wanted to fall asleep under that blanket, to just drift off. His leg didn’t hurt so much anymore. Everything was okay... Then he saw her. The next image he drifted to was of Genny smiling and then to the waving and kicking of tiny hands and feet, the cry of newborn babies filled his ears. It settled then back to Genny, her smile gone, replaced with a frown and eyes of such sadness.

Joe’s eye shot open, the world returned. Slow at first, taking in his surroundings, the road, the sparse lamplights along it, and then the blood. The dire situation that he was in was revealing itself rapidly. He felt himself breathing too fast and tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths. No one knew he was out here. He had been left for the crows to feast on. It was up to him to get back home now. He took another deep breath, huffing it out before tearing his pant leg, letting out a cry of pain. He took off his hat and stuffed it in his mouth, biting down hard as he began to bind his leg wound with the fabric. He screamed into the hat as his arms shook from tightening the fabric around his wound. It was a cob job but it would have to do. He fell on his back, chest heaving after having completed step one. The next step would be even more difficult and lengthy, however.

Keeping the hat bit down in his mouth, he flipped himself onto his stomach with a shaky growl and then began to drag himself along the grass, leaving a trail of blood as he went. He stayed off the road in case if there were any others who were out hunting him and screamed into the hat whenever the pain was too much to bare. He was going to make it home. Whenever he started to doubt, he’d remind himself of who was waiting for him and promised himself over and over that he would make it back even if it killed him.

@tidesage-crestwell

brandstonethings

Bounty

One thousand pieces of gold. That's how much someone wanted for his head. It was good enough cause to make anyone paranoid, especially Joe who was weeks away from starting a family. He never had a hit placed on him until now, supposedly for someone wanting revenge on him for an arrest he made back when he served as a guardsman in Stormwind. He was lucky enough to have Amelia open a portal for him out of the city to avoid taking the portal back to Boralus in the Mage Quarter, where he was warned the woman who put out the bounty frequents.

After a magical twisty journey, he'd begin to make his way out of Boralus and onto the road back home to Genny in Stormsong. It was a quiet evening walk, not too many people on the road in the valley which was a relief to him. Still, that did not make him less on edge. In between scanning the horizon and what was to his sides and rear, he would look over the bounty, re-reading it again and again.

Joseph Brandstone. Wanted dead. One thousand gold for his head, five hundred gold for any lesser proof. Payable in the Mage Quarter, Stormwind. Ask Jarel for a dark and stormy at the Slaughtered Lamb.

He sighed, still trying to reason who could he have angered so much to put such a price on his head, but to no avail. He scanned his surroundings again after crossing the stone bridge just before Brennadam, seeing nothing out of the ordinary but a cluster of pretty wildflowers that he thought might bring a smile to Genny. He lowered his guard for just a moment to stop and pick a few.

That was when his troubles began...

brandstonethings reblogged

dagasii

brandstonethings asked:

What's Amelia's opinion of Joe?

dagasii answered:

Most admirable quality:

"Joe is very... Steadfast in his beliefs. If he thinks something is true, it takes hours upon hour of convincing to even plant the seed of doubt in his mind that it's not. Which is, I suppose, pretty admirable in some cases."

Most attractive physical feature:

"No."

Most annoying habit:

"It's not -annoying- so much as it is -worrying-, but I seriously think he's got the situational intelligence of a twelve year old.

Something they would like to do with them:

"Nothing, really. Just. Stop getting into trouble. Maybe that's what I'd like to do. Lock him in a nice room where he just sort of sits, and no one can start any trouble for him."

@brandstonethings

brandstonethings

Never Have I Ever

Bold things that your muse has never, ever done.

tagged by: @the-fearless-ragamuffin

tagging: @tidesage-crestwell @easternkingdomer @eilitheandiel @dog-in-a-doublet

brandstonethings reblogged

rpsourcedmemes

Send 🎙️ for my muse to try to serenade yours

brandstonethings

nzoth-the-corruptor asked:

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?

For the most part I’d say he is. He knows he’s sometimes intimidating to folks who don’t know him due to how big he is and how that could be a good thing in some instances but he also knows he’s good at making people feel comfortable around him usually. He’s always been aware that he’s not as smart as a lot of people and that he’s always had a problem with alcohol. Only now he’s just starting to face it. Usually though, he might not be able to tell if someone is using him for their own gain. He’s always been one to trust and give people the benefit of the doubt. Lately though he’s slowly beginning to change his view on that.

Is he capable of self-irony? I’d say yes. Joe’s always been able to laugh at himself.

Thanks for the ask =)

brandstonethings reblogged

ciralinroseshadow

To the Duchess...

GIF by satan-stims

Ciralin stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her with arms crossed over her chest. In her left hand she drummed a quill against her right arm. Scraps and crumpled papers littered the area beside her. Garnering an occasional, bitter scowl from the elf. There was nothing she wrote that seemed to properly explain what it was she wanted to get across. This was her last piece of parchment though, and she’d be damned to visit the shop again for more in the same evening.

With a resounding sigh, Ciralin leaned forward once more, she dipped her quill into the inkwell and pressed the tip to the paper.

Dear Elaianna.

There are no words I can write that I know you would believe without viable proof. As much as I would prefer to tell you this in person, I am unable to make it to Stormholme at this time.

I have returned. Though in my absence it seems much has changed. I do not recall much of anything that lead up to my apparent demise. Though it was disclosed to me that I was not the only one.

Ciralin paused and took a deep breath, blinking back tears. She was still coming to terms with the knowledge that Sigurd was gone too. Joseph didn’t tell her how it had happened other than there was an explosion of sorts. Every time she tried to remember anything about the events that lead to her death, there was a heavy brain-fog.

She sniffled once and ran the back of her hand across her eyes clearing the blurring tears away before returning to her writing.

I would also like to apologize for my behaviors in a time where I might not have been coherent. As a Steward for your company, I realize how fatal that could have been on the image of Anchor Trading, as well as the members. I ask only for your forgiveness, though I understand if it is not easily given.

For any further questions, as I’m sure there will be many, please seek me out in Stormwind. I will meet you any where on your terms.

Sincerely,

Ciralin Roseshadow

There. It was done.

Before she decided she hated it, she dusted some powder over the letter to dry out the fresh ink and promptly placed it into an envelope that had been addressed earlier. She laid some fresh sprigs of lavender freshly purchased onto the backing before pouring a purple wax, similar in colour to the herb into the center, and pressed a rose seal to stamp the envelope closed.

Hastily, she pushed herself from her seat and managed her way down the stairs of the tavern she stayed in, bringing the letter to the innkeeper with prompt instructions to deliver it, along with a gold tip. Ciralin then made her way back to her room and slowly rolled onto the bed. She stared at the canopy of the bed above her as anxiety gnawed at her insides.

“Soon. Things will make sense soon.”

Mentions: @elaianna @brandstonethings @woesofwolves

brandstonethings reblogged

painted-bees

Character solidifying!

rockinrpmemes

1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have? 2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have? 3. Brothers, sisters? Who do they like? Why? What do they despise about their siblings? 4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient? 5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered? 6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child? 7. What was the economic status of their family? 8. How does your character feel about religion? 9. What about political beliefs? 10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted? 11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated? 12. How does their education and intelligence – or lack thereof - reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations? 13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates? 14. Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected? 15. Did they graduate? High-School? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED? 16. What does your character do for a living? How do they see their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike? 17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When? 18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember? 19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now? 20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced? 21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate? 22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner? 23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex? 24. What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually? 25. What are their hobbies and interests? 26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance? 27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality? 28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice? 29. What is your character’s weaknesses? Hubris? Pride? Controlling? 30. Are they holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive? 31. Does your character have children? How do they feel about their parental role? About the children? How do the children relate? 32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively? 33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health? 34. Does your character feel self-righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous? 35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures? 36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering? 37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories? 38. Are they basically negative when facing new things? Suspicious? Hostile? Scared? Enthusiastic? 39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid? 40. How is their sense of humor? Do they have one? 41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony? 42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain? 43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back? 44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them? 45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic? 46. Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body? 47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Does they want to be visible or invisible? 48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish? 49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent? 50. What are the prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating?

brandstonethings reblogged

dagasii

A woman and her daughter stood upon the rocky shore on a blustery day. The woman held the child by the hand, guiding her along. The child, no more than five, stumbled along on legs too gangly for a child her age.

“Come on, ‘Melia,” the mother chimed. She wore a pouch on her hip that clinked softly with every sway of her hips. Long dark hair tumbled down her back, blowing loose as the waves themselves. Storm grey eyes peeked at her daughter over her shoulder, meeting the little girl’s gaze with a bright grin. Her daughter was her spitting image. Tall for her age, with the same hair and same face she’d had when she was small. Green eyes, not too far in hue from her husband’s, peered back up at her, and the child flashed a toothy smile. There was a gap in the front, where one tooth had recently fallen out.

“Momma?” The little girl asked. “What are we going to do with what we pick up?”

“I’m going to show you,” the mother replied. “Be patient, my dear.”

Amelia was far from a patient child, though. As the pair made their way further down the strand, fatigue had begun to wear upon her mood. She stumbled, toes catching between the stones, and stopped. She looked to her mother, who looked back with very little urgency on her face, and let out a shrill, childlike whine.

“I don’t want to go any further!” she complained. “It’s too cold!” She crossed her arms over her tummy, little lips jutting out into a pout. “I want to do it here!”

Her mother took a long step, stopping in front of where Amelia stood. She crouched down, her gaze warm despite the circumstance. “If we stop here, we’re going home and going over your maths. Do you want to go do your maths, or go learn about the glass?” One slender hand came out to rest upon Amelia’s shoulder.

In truth, it wasn’t too cold at all. Amelia was warm as could be, bundled up in a coat and scarf that her grandmother had knitted her for Winter’s Veil that year. But she was small, and tripping over the stones made her toes hurt, and the strand seemed so long when every step was just a bit too hard for you… But maths were boring, and Amelia really did want to see what her mother had planned. So her pout changed. Her lip quivered, just a bit, and she nodded. “The glass.” she muttered.

It, truly, wasn’t a far walk. About a quarter of a mile from the beginning of the shore. But it was far enough for a child. After a time, the two came to a big rock, big enough for them both to sit upon with flat space on all edges. Amelia’s mother lifted her up with a grunt before clamoring up herself. She untied the pouch from her belt, and spilled its contents upon the stone. Little bits of sea glass, in a myriad of colors, skittered about for a moment before rolling to rest.

brandstonethings reblogged

the-other-roseshadow

Resurrection

GIF by gothdolly

“Shar shano al’shar O fulo do diel

Dieb nor talah shar ni

Dieb diel alah da thus dor

Ishura dor alah diel osa anu thera

Thus aman diel ri anu dor fulo

Ri dath, alah su bandu, su ash.”

Keerian mumbled the incantation quietly under his breath. He focused more on the intent rather than the words. Words he had spoken and used many times before, but never on such an important subject. Especially not one he cared about the outcome for. Beneath his hands was a relatively fresh corpse, lying in a chalk circle laid out by Mary. Salix and himself had procured the body themselves the night before, keeping it preserved until Keerian could get into the city with their ice magics.

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