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Not guilty. I guess I play these RPs different than most people. The next person has been surprisingly hit in the feels during a roleplay here.

baked potatoes

Next draw: Ace of Swords and The Chariot. The Ace of Swords: You take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the town around you. How does the town make you feel? Does it feel like home? The Chariot is, again, about progress through disciplined effort, That doesn't feel like an innate sense of belonging. It's worth pointing out that at the end of Act 1 I shuffled all the Major Arcana back into the deck. The rules weren't explicit about it and I made the conscious decision to shuffle it in because in a story about someone recovering their memories, they, or the Shadow of who they think they are, might arise. As I look at the

Draw a pentragram on the floor and splash some water around.

Quirofilia

loaded potatoes

So Guily. Mads Mikkelsen always worth a watch. The next person has logged off in the middle of a scene because they came.

Loaded gun

Justice points at consequences, law and accountability. The phrase "You need to handle it." is the trigger for her memory. And argument about something she needed to fix, even though the failure wasn't hers. The next draw is the Queen of Swords and The Fool. You pause at a building and realize you used to work here. What was your job? Do you still work here? I had been thinking she might be a cop, but The Fool doesn't seem to indicate a police station. The Fool is spring, beginnings, innocence and spontaneity. Hardly a cop shop. Maybe a school, but I can't shake the echo of Justice and the Chariot that points at her - was she s

Second Sword: 4 of Pentacles Prompt: An abandoned building stirs up memories. What used to be here? Why did it matter? Major Arcana for interpretation: Death The building slumps against the earth like it’s trying to sink into its own grave. The door is missing, the windows yawning open, their frames bare of glass. Weeds push up through the boards of the porch, brittle stems rattling in the wind. Suddenly, I’m not standing outside the ruin, I’m back within its walls, whole again, my dress unmarked. The air is close, warm with too many bodies, the scent of sweat, oil lamps, and dust kicked from the floorboards. The benches

Someone made a new bio? I haven't seen activity here in a long time.

Act 2: Swords First Sword: 6 of Pentacles Prompt: People are looking at you and whispering. What are they saying? Major Arcana for interpretation: The World The town isn't empty... far from it. People walk and lounge on the wooden boardwalks, no one is in the rutted, dusty street. As I step onto the boardwalk, they part for me without speaking, but not without sound. “Saint’s scales, it’s really her.” The hush moves in waves, there is a name in there that I can’t quite catch, a tone I almost recognize. “The balance will be restored now.” Their voices tangle in the air like windblown threads, slippin

I think it's interesting that we both came up with the notion of this intimate, probably handmade, adornment. I did it with the ring. I wonder, does this say something about how the memories of things are attached to where we got them? It's interesting how clear and deliberate @IsabellaRose's story is - mine meanders. I think it's a function of both Isabella's intent as a writer and her (I presume) typing her responses contrasted to my very visceral scrawling, disjointed thoughts. Ink on paper, I think, forces a kind of immediacy because second thoughts and revision leave scars.

Here's what we have so far. The final image shows the current prompt and the answer inspiration. Earlier I got a prompt for a piece of jewelry and the Magician as the answer. I have a spreadsheet of Tarot cards that includes colors, directions, seasons, herbs, gemstones and the traditional meanings of cards. The Magician represents Moonstone or Pearl - both feminine in aspect for jewelry, so suddenly my amnesiac became female as I looked at my hands and saw this ring. Swords: After getting your bearings, you walk around town. You know this town. You know it well, but you cannot remember it. Draw three cards from the Deck of Swo

Bumping to add F-List link and Sample Images.

Robin's eyes went wide and she stumbled a little to move out of the way as the couple fled the room. "Sorry!" she meekly called after then, her dark eyebrows knit in concern. She wondered if Dylan was in pain. The mysterious girl who had been the object of Robin's secret desires was still dealing with a sharp strike to the head and was still bleeding a little, despite Robin's assistance. While Dylan had seemed ok moments before, that might have been the head trauma--she might only now be feeling the real pain of it. All of these thoughts were whirling in Robin's mind, trying to justify why the softly spoken Dylan had yelled... why she w

As I was re-reading my posts, I felt like the whole Pentacles act needed a wrap up, a summary. Something for me to come back to later. Act One - Closing Reflection, in character I awoke in the dust and silence of a chapel that felt more like a watchful witness than a sanctuary. The saint above the altar looked down with eyes that seemed to see past my confusion, past my empty mind, into whatever truth I have yet to remember. The coat on my shoulders is not mine, perhaps it is borrowed, perhaps stolen, perhaps taken from someone who hurt me. Still, it hides the shame of a dress torn and weathered, its prim, buttoned colla

[ insert Image] Name: Johnny Hangcock Gender: Male Age: 30 Height: 6’1 Weight: 200-210 pounds of muscle Race: Pending Sexuality: Straight Extra: Image: https://rule34.xxx/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=11029134 Likely might lead him to being a demon with a bigger dick than it appears. Bio: He was trained by a single father, that learned various power for he never knew about his mother. It is a mixture of a sad tail, not being able to meet one’s own mother, she died to him During childbirth, his father did what he could, while looking for a woman who can be there For his son. : Stats

name: Lapi age: unageing height: 6'5 weight: 30 kg (66 lb) race: Robotic femboy bunny description: bio: a enginnered fembot created by a shota scientist though originally there purpose was to bring convience to its master by doing things for them that they were either too short or that people deemed the scientist to young to do for himself though one thing led to another and before he knew it he found himself attracted to his creation, upgrading it with the ability to feel pleasure and sexual service and entered lapi into sik matches to earn money usually for the sake of funding. lapi possess a explosively charming personal

Pause for reflection. I do this often with solo journaling games. I never know where my mind is going to go when I start one of these or where I'll end up. This one doesn't seem quite as personal, but... there's something interesting. A question of religion, perhaps an implication of "the devil", the knowledge that she's been exposed to others and feels shame about it, a possibility that she may have been abused or raped. It's not set it stone, but it sure feels like she was taken advantage of in one way or another. But was it physical, emotional, spiritual? Did she succumb willingly? And why does my mind always go to dark cor

champions are fighter oc's approved and then transferred here specifically by the owner. the thread is locked and pinned. or at least should be. champions should be updated usually after a fight or purchasing something from the shops or upon stat improvements as well as when they win and loose money... champions may come with a small record of wins and loses as well as other similar statistic during a match. not mandatory i just think it would be fun to record and have on record.

and if anyone else wants to play along its available over at itch

Third Pentacle: 10 of Pentacles Prompt: When you focus, you can grasp the edges of a hazy memory from just before you fell unconscious. What do you remember? Major Arcana for interpretation: The Devil A memory comes to me then. It comes in pieces, sharp and uneven, like shards of glass catching the light, flashes of images, sounds, feelings. I see a sky the color of charred embers, heat pressing down like a living thing. The wind reeks of smoke and something sweeter, something cloying... rotten. My dress clings to me, the collar tight at my throat, as though it were holding me still. There are voices, low and urgent