#thank you for the ask..... these guys haunt me....

[dilf-din]

I Don’t Wanna Get Used to Not Having You Around

Frank Castle X f!reader for @xxdrixx

A gift for you my sweet friend!! Please enjoy a little fake dating Frank fic I cooked up!! Title is from In the Heights by Knox Hamilton

WC: 4100

Warnings: none, fake dating, slight sugar daddy vibes if you squint, no beta if you see a typo no you didn’t

Frank slipped into his usual haunt, black hood up and boot speckled with rain. Incessant drizzles like this one meant a thinner crowd than usual. Of course, he did a quick scan of the room from the wide window before he entered. A group of college aged guys gathered around the pool table, three middle aged men at the far end of the bar watching the giants play, and a girl at the opposite end hunched over a drink he couldn’t make out. Once he deduced there were no threats, he entered quietly, stamping his feet on the crooked mat to rid himself of any larger raindrops and pushing it straight with the toe of his boot before taking a seat on one of the barstools with frayed seams and stuffing spilling out.

Two stars on yelp meant cheap drinks and sparse evenings. Perfect for someone like him.

He flagged down the bartender for a beer and shrugged his hood down. A bruise on his cheek was fading to a sickly green, but he was otherwise free of wounds which was a rarity.

Frank fished a book from his inner jacket pocket and noticed the girl two seats down from him more clearly now. Watery eyes, a pile of disintegrating tissues in her pockets that she had been using to dry the stream of tears. Chipped nail polish that had clearly been picked at and a phone that she incessantly checked for a message that didn’t seem to be coming.

For some reason, he was overcome with pity for this stranger.

He cleared his throat, “If the drink’s that bad, I can buy ya another one.”

You tensed slightly at his voice and looked to see who he was talking to before realizing it was you.

“Oh,” you laughed, a small one but a real one. “No, this is the only thing that’s helping.”

Frank nodded and cracked his book open, unable to parse if he should further the conversation.

He closed his book just as quickly as he had opened it, “Shitty guy?”

“The shittiest,” you instantly responded, turning slightly on the stool to face him.

The bartender set Frank’s beer down and he gave a quiet, “Thank you,” accompanied by a nod.

“My ex is engaged, to a girl I hate,” you drew out the H sound incredulously. “We went to the same college and she was always weirdly competitive with me, going for the same opportunities, stealing my ideas and trying to outdo me. We even applied for the same job at the end, and she got it instead of me. And he fed me some bullshit about us being incompatible. I feel like I got traded in for the better model,” your voice wavered. You picked up your drink and drained the second half in one gulp.

“That’s,” Frank paused, “Profoundly shitty.”

“They invited me to their engagement party,” you scoffed, pushing your phone away from you.

“Yikes,” Frank scratched the back of his head.

“And I’m still at the same shitty job living in the same shitty apartment. No date. Nothing nice to wear, no way to pretend like I’m a fraction as okay as them,” you signaled to the bartender for a refill.

“You might want it straight from the bottle,” Frank whispered, making a slight gesture towards their kitchen and wordlessly grimacing.

“Gross,” you wrinkled your nose, “Thanks for the tip.”

“When’s the party?”

“Tomorrow,” you groaned and laid your head on the cool tile of the bar before quickly retracting from the sticky residue you were met with.

“How did I never notice how bad this place is?” you laughed.

“It’s easy to ignore when you’re trying to forget everything else.”

“Who are you trying to forget?” you asked softly, resting your chin against your hands and really taking him in for the first time.

A strong jaw and nose, broad shoulders, neat hair and square posture. You would’ve guessed ex-military even before you eyed the dog tags around his neck with what looked to be a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line”, you apologized quickly.

He shrugged it off, “Nah, you’re just making conversation with the jackass who hit you up at the bar. I’m the one who didn’t mind my business.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a jackass.”

“You’d be in the minority then,” he scoffed a laugh and took a swig of his beer.

A short silence hung in the air between you. The clack of pool balls, loud complaints from the men watching football, the roar of the heater in the corner. Your head swam a little under the low lights as you stared at the man beside you. Feeling bold, you slid over to another stool until only one sat between you.

“I’m Frank,” he smiled.

Fuck. He was tanked.

While the two of you made further conversation, Frank took in everything about you. The shine of your eyes, the lilt of your laugh, the way your hair fell across your face and how badly he wanted to brush it behind your ear so it no longer obscured his view of you.

For hours the two of you chatted and drank. At some point, Frank scooted to the stool next to yours until your shoulders were flush against each other.

He leaned in to whisper to you, observations and wisecracks about the other bar patrons. You could feel the stubble on his cheek against your earlobe and his breath falling on your cheek, clouding your senses and making you forget that you had chosen that bar to be alone and cry tonight.

“I have a stupid idea,” he said, angling his body towards yours and you missed the contact of his shoulder.

“I love stupid ideas,” you grinned.

“Let me take you to that party tomorrow. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend. We can show them what they’re missing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you laughed, then paused to contemplate.

Frank knew this was a bad idea. That if you said yes, he’d be in too deep. He was already under your spell and you weren’t even trying to be anything but an unguarded, unfiltered version of yourself.

“You don’t have to do that. Keeping me company tonight means I’m already in your debt. I don’t like when the score is that uneven.”

“On the contrary, you kept a lonely guy like me company tonight, so I actually owe you.”

You laughed and looked down, really starting to consider his offer.

“You would do that?”

“If there’s anything I love, it’s giving people hell. Having a beautiful girl on my arm is just a bonus.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you nodded.

The two of you exchanged contact info, when and where he should pick you up, and parted ways, but not before he insisted on walking you home. You could tell he wasn’t a creep, and that his insistence came from a place of concern and protection. You looked at the ring hanging from his neck, and allowed him to accompany you. Something told you he was carrying some regret about not being able to protect someone once. Plus he had already punched your address into the contact in his phone, so it’s not like seeing it in person put you at any greater risk. If anything, you did feel safe walking next to him. You noticed the way his eyes scanned every alley and intersection. Though you weren’t holding hands, you felt the urge to cling to him as he guided you through the rainy night.

“This is me,” you announced at the foot of a staircase leading to a well lit brick building. “I’m that one right there,” you pointed to the corner window on the third floor.

“I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” he shifted on his heels and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Good night, Frank,” you smiled, casting one last look over your shoulder at the mysterious man before unlocking the door to let yourself in.

Frank lingered on the sidewalk, counting the seconds until he saw the light in your window flip on. He disappeared before you could check the pavement to see him still standing there.

———

You woke the morning to splitting headache and two texts from Frank.

“Good morning. Drink some water before you do anything.”

“Heard you mention you didn’t have anything to wear. Get yourself something nice.”

Attached to the second message was an apple payment for $300.

You responded immediately.

“Frank this is ridiculous. I can’t take this money from you.”

Three dots as he immediately started typing his response.

“Consider it a thank you. Been a long time since I had a night as nice as last night.”

“Well thank you back.”

“See you at 7”

You dropped your phone to your chest and stared at the ceiling. What have you gotten yourself into.

A gurgling growl from your stomach coaxed you out of bed to assemble any kind of breakfast to sop up this hangover, accompanied by a tall glass of water, doctor’s orders.

After breakfast, you showered to get the smell of last night out of your hair. When you gathered your laundry to toss in the washing machine, you caught of whiff of Frank’s cologne on your hoodie, and fished it out. For some reason, you wanted to save that little memory, and laid it across the foot of your bed while you dressed to get ready for your shopping excursion.

It was windy this week, and your eyes stung as you stepped into the brisk air. You drew your scarf a little higher up and trekked into town. There was a department store not too far from where you lived, so you decided to try there and hope for the best.

The store was almost empty, save for a few ladies holding up sweaters to their bodies to check the length of the sleeves before placing them back on the rack.

Nothing stood out to you until you found a black velvet mini dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and the fabric slightly sparkled in the right light. On the way to the dressing room, you spotted a pair of knee high boots cut from the same fabric. There was one pair left in your size that you grabbed to try on as well.

It fit like a glove. The expanse of your thigh that peeked out between the boots and the bottom of the dress made you look elongated and sexy.

“Not too bad,” you murmured, doing a spin to admire your figure from every angle. With a few accessories and your hair pulled back into a bun, this would do quite nicely.

On your way to the register, you stopped to pick a pair of dangly gold earrings.

There was still a good bit of daylight left before Frank was supposed to pick you up, and you found yourself feeling antsy.

“Found a dress. Want to see?”

“I’ll wait till tonight. Bet you look beautiful.”

Another wave of butterflies.

“Are you doing anything?”

“Negative.”

“Early dinner?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there at 5.”

Though it was still early afternoon, at least you shaved a few hours off until you could see him again. You found yourself strangely looking forward to the whole evening.

Popping in your headphones, you decided to clean your apartment. You danced from room to room mopping the floors and dusting the corners. You switched your laundry to the dryer and decided to toss in your sheets while you had the momentum.

At the end of your cleaning stint, it was nearing 3:30, and you decided you could start getting ready.

You brushed your teeth, applied simple makeup, and plucked a few stray hairs while an audiobook droned on in the background. Pulling on the dress once again, you were in love with the way it hugged your body, feeling a confidence you had been missing. A small jewelry box sat on your cluttered vanity holding not much besides a few pieces your mother had given you.

Carefully, you fished out the tennis bracelet and matching necklace that would perfectly complement the earrings you had picked up today. The last thing to do was pull your hair into a loose bun at the base of your neck. You pulled a few strands out to frame your face, and heard the buzzer to your apartment.

“You’re early,” you teased.

“Need me to walk around the block and come back?”

Without answering, you buzzed him in.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back. You did a once over in the mirror and sprayed on your perfume right when you heard a gentle knock at your door.

Without looking through the peephole, you unlatched the door to let Frank inside.

He smiled and presented a bouquet of flowers to you.

“Well hello,” you tried to conceal the heat that was rising to your face.

“My ma told me to always bring a lady flowers,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t an incredibly sweet gesture for two near strangers.

“And mine taught me to send thank you notes, so expect one this week,” you smiled turning to get them in a vase before the two of you left for the evening.

Angel, your small white cat mewled pitifully at Frank who bent down to scratch behind her ears.

You filled a vase with water and set the bouquet into it, carefully rearranging a few stems. It was a beautiful palette of whites and oranges.

“Do you still need a minute?”

“I just need my boots and coat,” you replied, rounding the corner out of the kitchen and skidding by him in mismatched ankle socks that he found incredibly endearing.

You sat on the edge of the overstuffed ottoman by the chair at the door and pulled the boots up your long legs, zipping them and brushing a bit of lint off of them. Frank looked away, turning to pretend to admire your wall art instead.

“What do you think?” You asked nervously fidgeting with the hem.

“I think you look like a million bucks,” he said quietly. He held his hand out for you to grab and do a little spin.

“Try three hundred,” you winked and he cracked a nervous laugh. Moving his hand up to run it over his chin and try to conceal his smitten smile.

“I think you look good enough to make that doofus see he’s missing out.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” you pulled your long black coat out of the closet and Frank wordlessly held it open for you to slip your arms into.

Frank was also in all black, sporting a button down and tie with jeans with some chelsea boots that looked new, or like something he only pulled out for special occasions. On top of it all he had a leather jacket that fit him like a glove.

“We’re so in sync we matched. We already have that couple telepathy,” you joked, grabbing your bag and dropping your phone in next to your keys. “Bye, Angel,” you cooed to your cat, leaning down to offer your nose that she gently pressed her own into.

Christ that was cute.

“I got us a table at a place close to the party,” he explained on the way down to his truck.

“You’re quite the planner,” you said sounding impressed.

“Something like that that,” he mumbled, closing your door behind you and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Though old, he kept his truck in perfect condition. There was an air freshener shaped like a tree hanging from the mirror, the windshield was spotless, and the floor mats even looked recently vacuumed. The radio played classic rock low through the speakers as you made light conversation on the way to the restaurant. You kept reminding yourself this wasn’t a real date. This was all just part of the act. You might not even see him after tonight, so why were you so nervous?

Frank turned on the charm over dinner, bantering with the waitstaff and ordering expensive wine for you to share. You started to wonder where he got this seemingly never ending supply of money and why he was spending it on you of all people. He was polite, paid cash, left generous tips. The thought of him being in the mob crossed your mind.

Frank checked the watch on his wrist, “It’s almost showtime. You need another minute?”

You finished off the glass of wine in front of you and exhaled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Frank helped you into your jacket once more and offered you a firm hand to hold as you stepped over the threshold of the restaurant. His manners also never seemed to be in short supply. You bet to everyone else, you looked like a normal couple on a normal night out, not two strangers on a mission to scorn your ex. It was fun to pretend that this was for real.

You were quiet on the drive to the party, absentmindedly picking at what remained of your nail polish and wishing you had thought to repaint your nails.

Frank could sense your nerves.

“Just say the word and we can go.”

You looked over to meet his intense gaze.

“I can tell this is tearin’ ya up. So if you want to forget this whole thing, we can leave now. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

“No, no I think this will be good for me. I need to face them. Thank you though,” you smiled sincerely.

Frank parked a few blocks down. He pulled the key from the ignition and exhaled.

“Ready when you are.”

“Let’s get it over with,” you sighed, reaching down for your purse.

Frank rushed out to open your door before you could even think about touching it.

“My lady,” he smiled charmingly as he offered you an arm down.

“Frankie, you’re too good to me,” you leaned against his arm, and he felt his throat tighten at your closeness.

“Their names are Beck and Dawn,” you whispered as you made your way to their stairs.

“Which is which?” He asked in earnest.

You tried to conceal a snicker as you let yourself in.

The halls were crowded with a number of faces you didn’t recognize and a few you did. Old classmates and colleagues, friends of Beck’s.

Less than a minute in and you already felt like you were suffocating.

You fished a card out of your purse and dropped it on a table that seemed to be collecting gifts and well wishes.

“Let’s get this over with,” you turned your head up to whisper to him.

Frank helped you out of your jacket and laid it next to his on a chair, then rested his hand on the small of your back. You tried to not think about the warmth of his skin and the width of his palm as you headed into the kitchen, exchanging a few polite greetings.

“They’re over there, but I want them to come to us,” you leaned up to whisper again.

Frank turned into you and nuzzled his nose against yours in a way that made you dizzy.

“She’s looking at us,” he whispered against your earlobe. His breath was hot on your neck, and for a second you thought about turning around and shoving your tongue down his throat to really sell it.

Frank’s hands lighted on your hips and he leaned in to whisper again, “You look sexy as hell. Don doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Dawn is the girl,” you hissed through a giggle.

“I told you I can’t tell the difference,” he laughed genuinely and both of your faces were lit up as Dawn and Beck made their way to you.

“Hey you!” Beck drew you into an awkward side hug.

“We didn’t think you would show,” Dawn said with a hint of true shock in her voice.

“Oh we were already in the neighborhood so we figured we might as well,” you shrugged. “This is Frank,” you smiled with a hand pressed to his side as the other was wrapped around his back.

Frank gave Beck a firm handshake, firmer than he should have but he couldn’t resist. When Beck drew his hand back and shook it out he asked, “Are you military, Frank?”

“Retired marine.”

“Oh hey, semper fi.”

Frank stared at him blankly. He could tell from everything about this goon that he had never served anything but overpriced coffee.

“Funny how life works out, huh?” Dawn forced a smile as she caressed Beck’s lacking bicep. Frank tried and failed to not feel incredibly superior to both of them.

“Yeah I’d say we both found people who deserve us,” you volleyed back.

Frank’s grip on your waist tightened in a possessive way that flooded you with heat as he and Beck seemed to be in a silent stare down.

Feeling bold you decided to say one more thing, “I hope you drive each other crazy. You truly deserve it.”

Beck started to say something, but you took long strides to the exit, leaving him behind once and for all. Frank shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if he had nothing else to add, following you back to the car.

Tomorrow they would open a card addressed to them congratulating Dawn on once again stealing something that belonged to you.

In your rush to leave, you left your jacket and were met with an unpleasant gust of wind.

Frank followed behind you a moment later, holding your jacket open to step into once again.

“My savior,” you murmured. Your heart was still pounding as nearly a decade of feeling looked over and plotted against settled in your throat. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks before you had a chance to convince them not to.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Frank said softly, swiping the tears away with rough knuckles.

You stood on the stoop trying to compose yourself, and buried your face in Frank’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation and settled his feet to become a wall against the biting wind.

“Not that I mind holding ya, but do you wanna go somewhere else away from these assholes?”

“Yes please,” you sniffed, following him back to his truck.

Once you had settled into the cab, Frank turned the heat on and adjusted the vents so you could warm your fingers beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” you started.

Frank scoffed as he prepared to chastise you.

“Not for crying, for bringing you here. I have too much baggage with both of them. It wasn’t fair to rope a stranger into all this.”

You met his gaze with a fresh wave of tears crowding your eyes.

“Couple things, sweetheart. One, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’m not the kind of guy who does things I don’t want to do. And second, you don’t have to apologize. We’ve all got baggage. Some of us carry it with us everywhere,” he cleared his throat. “And third, I know it’s been a weird coupla days, but I’d love to not be strangers when this is all said and done.”

You searched his face and only saw things you had always longed for: patience, sincerity, adoration.

“I can tell you feel broken right now, but it won’t always feel that way. Forget those jokers. They don’t know what they’re missing. I think I walked out with the prize tonight.”

Frank licked his lips nervously and cast his eyes downward. It wasn’t like him to be so bold, but he had learned long ago that hesitating means you lose out on the best stuff life could give you.

You scooted closer to him, leaving a small space like you had in the bar. Frank scooted closer to you and closed the gap. His hands on your neck were rough and warm as he pulled you into a kiss.

He kissed like a man who had known both love and loss, passion and regret. It was tender, holy, all consuming.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since yesterday,” he laughed against your mouth, stealing another quick kiss.

“I promise I’ll never make you wait 24 hours again,” you laughed back.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he drew his hands back and started pressing buttons on his watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Settin’ a timer,” he smiled, not meeting your eyes as he moved the small dials with his large fingers.

[woenti]

Bluelock boys who look at you with your new boyfriend, reminiscing at the time when that boy was him. watching you laugh from afar at a table seated with his friends, their laughter being blocked out by his longing gaze in you, watching as he wiped the chocolate off your face as you giggled, laughing at some joke he made, he remembered when that used to be him. when he got to wipe food off your face and make you laugh in a way no one ever did. Bluelock boys, as your ex, when they see you in public alone, decide to chase after you yelling your name until you finally turn around, met with his familiar face. You smiled, to his surprise. "H-how are you?" he uttered, looking down, too scared to look you in the eyes, not after what he did to you. Locking eyes with you would mean looking into the same eyes that watered up because of him, tears that raced down your face, looking at him with utter betrayal. "I'm good, really good actually. You?" you replied. "I'm good too, and listen, I really want to apologise for what I did. I realised I never really apologised, so—" "Don't." You cut him off, the smile fading off your face. "Look at me, will you?" you asked, your voice stern, scaring him. Gosh, he fucked up. He shouldn't have brought that up. He fucked it up again. He lifted his gaze hesitantly, being met with your serious look. "You don't have to apologise; I got over it long ago. In my mind, you're forgiven. You've changed; I see that—or, at least, I hope you did, so don't worry about it." You smiled again, losing the stern tone and replacing it with a softer one. "Here." He quickly took notice of the tall boy who walked up behind you, handing you the hot drink as you thanked him, and that's when he finally looked at your left hand, noticing the big diamond ring. "Uh, I'm sorry. I'll just go," he said frantically, quickly walking away, now owning his place. The ex that broke your heart and betrayed you in the worst way possible. Not the guy who got to go on one knee, confessing his ever-dying love to you, handing you the most lavish, expensive ring that you've always dreamt of, getting to plan the most beautiful wedding with you, where he'd get to write his vows, take pictures that would hang in your cosy home filled with love as your children would run around laughing, chasing after one another. His place would always be the worthless guy that your friends would bring up as a haunting memory one day, an old haunting memory, soon to be forgotten. You glanced at him as he walked away, and for a moment, when he looked back, he could swear he saw that old glint in your eyes, the look of love you always gave him when you were together, but this time, it must be for your new lover.

CHAT THIS IS SO ASS BYT UR SEEING THE VISION RIGGHT???

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 3>

word count: 2k

Nervous is an understatement for my state of feeling right now.

Today is my first segment and in this segment I have to announce that I am the temporary wise woman for Roman Reigns.

Also I have a task from uncle. I have to persuade Nick Aldis - the general manager of Smackdown to cancel the fatal 4-way match since it's just unfair.

These past few days I met Jimmy, Jey and Solo. Very respectful men by the way. Uncle wasn't lying.

I have also been making friends with the women roster cause I do need female friends here. I can't only hang out with the Bloodline, right?

"Don't worry, girl. You got this!" Samantha tried to hype me up. She is the ring announcer and honestly we became close really fastly. In a few days, we know all about the life stories of one another. "I can't even wait to announce you. Ladies and gentlemen, accompanied to the ring by his special council, the wise woman - Sophia Heyman...oh my god" she started clapping excitingly and this made me grin from ear to ear.

"It sounds so good. You are so talented" I exclaimed. She is really, really good.

"Good luck to your fiancée, by the way" I wished her.

"Thank you so much" she smiled nervously.

"It must be nerve-wracking to have a partner wrestler, right?" I asked out of nowhere.

"Indeed. You are always worried about their health cause anything can happen in that ring and yeah..." she explained. "I just pray every day for him and for my colleagues, of course"

"Understandable" I nodded my head.

"Speaking of..." she looked around us and got closer to me. "What do you think about him?" I got puzzled for a moment.

"Ricochet? Well, I haven't really spoken to him but he seems like a nice guy" I replied.

"Not my fiancée...about Roman" she looked around again and whispered his name.

"Is he like Voldemort, why you so scared of saying his name? Well, he seems okay for now. Honestly, better than I expected but I had no expectations so." I shrugged.

"I think he likes you." she just spat out but this time she wasn't very quiet.

"What? Samantha...are you in your delulu moment?" I furrowed my eyebrows because she just said that so out of nowhere.

"Girl, literally look at you. That's what I'm gonna say. You are the woman that haunts men's dreams, no matter if they are single or taken." Samantha clarified.

"Come on." I rolled my eyes. Would lie if I said I didn't get this before.

"He is divorced by the way but you haven't heard this from me" Samantha switched to whispering again.

"What? I mean...how do you know? I mean, yeah whatever, I guess. Uncle is divorced as well." I shrugged. What did I just do? Now it will seem like I'm happy because of that fact.

"You don't get my point. What I'm trying to tell you is that you should be careful if you don't wanna end up being caught in his vice grip" Sam giggled cause she knows I got the reference very well. However, I was totally unfazed because I don't see myself with a man like him.

"Ha-ha, so funny, Samantha, ha-ha. Don't you worry about me. I have learned my lesson with you know who, so if somebody wants to impress me now, it's gonna be very, very hard." I solidified my intentions. Robert really gave me close to nothing and I was blinded just because he was cute.

"What are you two girls talking about so passionately?" I suddenly heard Roman's deep voice behind me and it startled me so much that I jumped a little. "Woah, calm down, wise woman. Am I a ghost?" he was exactly behind me and I looked up to him since he is like more than 7 inches taller than me. Roman had his eyes down my direction and a big grin on his face. "Tell me what are you two gossiping about. Tell me the drama."

"The discussions me and Samantha were having, Mr. Reigns, are strictly confidential, so I am not telling you. You ain't one of the girls." I sassed him out and he let out a deep chuckle.

"But you are my wise woman. You should tell me everything. No secrets between us." he suddenly tried to act offended.

"This statement, Mr. Reigns, is disputed. There is nowhere in the contract that signifies I should tell you everything about my life and vice versa." I immediately opposed to him.

"Always disagreeing with me" he looked at Samantha with the look of complaint. "Have you ever seen the Wise Man disagreeing with me, Samantha?"

"No, at least not here." she replied.

"Okay but I'm not uncle. Also the agreements are only for the camera. Behind camera, I'm not obligated to." I turned to him and shrugged.

Roman chuckled once again.

"Miss Heyman, I honestly find your attitude so cute. You think you are 'biting' like a snake but honestly, I'm having fun."

"Oh, you think that this is my bad side, Mr. Reigns? I have to apologize then. You are mistaken" I fought back.

"No, I didn't say that this is your bad side. Anyway, we have to start preparing for later, so the gossip session has to end soon, okay?" he suddenly turned all serious. This man's duality is insane. He can throw some random jokes one second and the other second, he turns into a serious man. Is he a Gemini or something?

"Coming after a while" I said and turned around to Samantha.

"I bet you will" I heard him saying under his nose and I turned to him again. When he saw that I heard him, he made that funny "oops" expression.

Until the very moment he got away, Samantha had a look of disbelief in her face.

"See what I'm talking about? Now I'm 100% sure. Soph, I have never...ever in my career seen Roman like this. He is so obvious, oh my god." she put her hand on her mouth.

"Is he a Gemini?" I asked out of nowhere. It's a tendency of mine since I remember myself.

"Uuh, I think so, yes."

"That explains a lot. And then people tell me astrology ain't real" I shook my head. "And how old is he?" I asked quietly.

"Let me think...uh, he is a bit older than Trevor. Two or three years something like this. In his late thirties for sure - 38, I believe." my friend suddenly started calculating. "This year he will be 39."

"What?" my jaw was on the floor. "Yeah, no chance. That's a...12 year difference, nuh-uh." I shook my head.

"But you thought about it" she started laughing and poked me.

"About what?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Anyway I have to go"

"Coming for him" Sam couldn't help but snore.

"Ha-ha so funny" I rolled my eyes.

...

"I'm here" I shouted after I got in the locker room. The whole Bloodline is there.

"Lil' OG." Jimmy came to greet me with a high-five.

"Lil' OG"? Solo seemed weirded out by the way Jimmy called me.

"Paul is OG. Sophia is his blood, therefore she is lil' OG." Jimmy explained himself and his brother just seemed done.

"She looks nothing like Paul."

"Nah, she has his eyes" Jimmy disagreed with him.

"Ah yes. The saphire blue eyes that I inherited from my late great-grandmother Patricia." I stated.

"You may not look like Paul but for sure sound like him" Jimmy concluded. "So are you ready for later?"

"Mentally kinda, physically absolutely not. I have to start dressing up and everything because after 10 minutes the makeup artist and the hairdresser will be waiting for me." I looked at my watch.

Then reached to the wardrobe to grab the outfit I planned for tonight. It is a two piece costume consisting a blouse like blazer with a deep cleavage but it also has a scarf that is going to wrap around my throat and also a long skirt with a long slit. The color is dark blue with thin light stripes exactly like my uncle's costumes. For shoes I chose beige lacquered high heels.

Where is Roman? He was so insisting for me to come here and now he is nowhere to be found.

"Paul Heyman : female version" Jimmy said in a narrative tone which made me chuckle.

"I don't think the crowd is going to notice the difference" I shrugged.

"Oh, they definitely will, trust me" Solo said seriously.

I suddenly heard steps. I turned on my right and oh my God, I shouldn't have.

The view before me is just...wow.

Roman fresh out of the shower with his wet, long hair, his big ass tribal tattoo and a white towel wrapped around his torso. Water drips falling onto his body like tears.

"Ah, you're here, Sophia." he said that as if he totally expected me and as if everything is on purpose.

"Yeah." I turned around and faced his cousins because if I stare for longer, I will boost up his ego. Damn, that man is jacked.

"So is the bathroom free? I have to dress quickly." I asked a rhetorical question but I tried to go as quickly as possible, so I don't look at him in any way. I went through like a flash honestly.

"Do you need help?" I heard him yelling at me.

"No?" that was so random of him.

"You said you have to dress up quick and you know two works better than one" he replied and that response caused me to open the bathroom door and he was still sitting there.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Reigns but I have to decline this offer." after I finished, I slammed the door.

Is he out of his mind? Asking me this right in front of his cousins? Unbelievable.

Roman's POV:

I chuckled at Sophia once again. Damn, I know this woman for a few days yet she got under my skin. The way she looks, the way she talks, the way she walks. I feel betrayed by Paul, to be completely honest. How could he never tell me he has such a pretty niece?

"Uce...what the fuck?" Solo whisper yelled.

"What?" the grin on my face still stayed.

"Bro...you are hitting on Paul's niece" Jimmy called me out.

"Nah, I'm not. We are just joking" I immediately debunked Jimmy's statement and went to the wardrobe to search for my stuff.

"You don't joke like this...ever. Come to your senses, uce. She is way younger than you. How old is she?" Jon asked with a concern.

"I don't know. Probably 25-26." the looks the siblings exchanged between each other were full of shock as if I said she is a minor...come on.

"She is younger than me?" Solo seemed caught off guard.

"That divorce is blinding you." Jimmy started lecturing me. "You see a pretty woman and suddenly you want to sleep with her".

"I don't wanna sleep with her, you perverts. I just like her company, okay? Stop lecturing me." I tried not to yell at them because I don't want Sophia to hear me.

"Uce, you can't fool us. Look at her. A living Barbie doll. Get yourself together immediately." Solo whisper yelled but we all shut up immediately when we heard the door open.

"So how do I look?" Sophia asked, standing in front of me with that business ass little outfit and heels and so much unholy thoughts going in my head of how I bend her over and pull that skirt up and then...

Joseph, you should stop before somebody rises underneath and completely embarass yourself.

That woman is my dream personified and I don't care what my cousins think. I'm going to have her one way or another.

"Amazing" I cleared my throat. "Spectacular" I cleared my throat again, trying not to stare too much at her.

"Great" Jimmy and Solo threw her big grins and thumbs up.

"Thank you so much, now I'm leaving you guys. Bye. See ya later." she ran to the door and left the room.

"Holy shit" I sat on the couch. "I may be in trouble" I finally confessed.

"Took you long enough." Solo said sarcastically.

[bingobongobonko]

Hassan + Yves:🍇🍑🍰🍹🍔🍟

Sitting in front of you so normally with a vice grip on your shoulders.....Hi!!!!!

For purpose of this ask, gonna be referring to DND Hassan :)

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

Hassan: unsure... hard to say. hassan really aint one to have long-lasting friendships, not outta choice but the fact that his friends usually dont stick around. but in a group he's usually the voice of reason but if that voice of reason could be easily swayed into being an accomplice. like yk the kid from the magical school bus thats like can we PLEASE have a normal field trip..... thats him. thats hassan de ruyter. he's so unsure about everything but he'll tag along cuz he dont got no one else. despite this and his fear of everybody he can honestly be a genuine and kind guy 2 hang with..... just a little bit tired 24/7 and easily exasperated but for the most part it really dont change the fact that he cares about people a LOT. he will sit with you after a very long day and reminisce the past and hope for the future. even if he cant assure himself, he'll sure as hell assure you.

Yves: PETTY ASSHOLE... you wouldnt be even sure if you WERE friends cuz its hard to tell if he likes you or not. cuz he can act like he tolerates you and then talk about you behind your back like its nothing. dreamy sigh... he starts problems with people on purpose... hes THAT guy yk. very petty, very judgemental, but not very secretive about it. he's abrasive and a drama queen but its ok hes silly about it..

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

Hassan: same sorta approach he has for friendships: He doesn't. he's never dated, more or less because he doesn't feel like he COULD be dated. however... think his brain flares up for dominant women. women who can carry him bridal style... heeeeeeeeey... not exclusive to women though. but besides that, honestly someone who he can chill with and do fuckall. and probably as introverted out as he is.

Yves: someone who can loosen up and be silaaaay and have fun!!!! he goes out a lot, so having someone who can keep up with him is a good thing!! ofc thats less important. frankly someone who's willing to scratch his back and he'll do the same, mutually beneficial relationship.

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

Hassan: you can do whatever you want, but instigating shit with betsy, you are LITERALLY on his shitlist. thats the only thing in this world he cares about, that and his goat. you cant hurt his animals and get away with it, you are forever hated.

Yves: ripping him away from control, or making him feel like he's not in control. that's probably the biggest part of him. a need to be in control of everything and everyone - including himself. so taking away that choice, no matter how harmful or questionable his choice is, youre basically threatening his entire self worth since his entire persona is built on control and power.

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

Hassan: saedboy... nawt really.. he can be a really HONESTLY funny fucking guy, even if on accident cuz of how he interacts with people, and being a scaredy cat, but no one really knows him long enough for any anecdotes to be made.

Yves: him and elias went out for a night in the city, originally intending to get parts for his mech, but something happened and i dont even know what happened, but they woke up in elias's apartment with half of their face temporarily paralyzed and also ppl on the omninet were calling yves and elias Mistresses. i dont know what happened. i dont know what happened.

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

Hassan: 😭 i dont know any IN trends rn... but i know he'd love the barbie movie i just know he'd gather all of his friends and beg them to watch barbie with him..... he's very fucking passionate about the shit he likes and hes not a pushy guy but he WILL beg on his knees.

Yves: i hate 2 say it... but this is just yves, thats just who he is. he'd HATE the re-emergence of unions.... he's those dudes on twitter who complain abt how no one wants to work these days and like. if youre living on minimum wage then save money and get another job. and then he goes offline and takes wages by being a landlord. do you understand. he's so fucking out of touch and tone deaf.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

Hassan: if you'd ask him, *probably* sleeping in. he'll take any inch of sleep he can get, even if its 2 days in a row. that is actually his guilty pleasure. he would not move for anything if he had the choice.

Yves: if asked, he'd probably be like... :) my guilty pleasure is icecream or something super innocuous like that. but its actually making people angry at him and setting shit on fire.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Hassan: bit sad but public intoxication... tbh... he does. that a lot. its how he gets himself in deep shit cuz he's a lot more cocky and loud when he's drunk, compared to a sober him that's just anxious and soft spoken. he'd honestly get arrested for being just fucking insanely drunk and doing some stupid shit.

Yves: i cant even answer this question properly bc. he HAS committed crimes, war crimes. actual war criminal. not using the word as a throwabout, thats actually something he's done + tried to do again on more than one occasion. but he'd prolly get arrested for espionage lol

[weirdglassthing]

Posting more of my ouaw fanart here because I think I’d die if I shared it on the discord and one of the party members saw it.

Some guys

Some husbands

0 impulse control

[ghostradiodylan]

hi hello i have been rotating dylan lenivy in my head like the microwave for a couple of weeks and especially how instead of lashing out or acting up at all when he’s late stage infected he just. he just gets scared by lights?? figures out how to work a crane?? saves kaitlyn?? will NOT let kaitlyn get hurt by him and he’s so scared but he’s so. my boy :(

Hi hello yourself! Thank you for this, I have been doing the same thing except for LIKE A YEAR. Someone help me. 💀

I just. I love him so much?

Like, he’s an actually perfect character?

In a game about choices, we aren’t even allowed to make any bad decisions with Dylan. Is that a flaw in the game design? Or a sign that some crucial decisions he could have been tasked with hit the cutting room floor with the other 20-30% of the script? Maybe. Does it make me love him for it any less? Absolutely fucking not.

He should be a threat to Kaitlyn, right? He should at least be a little bit pissed off at her, a little bit grumpy before he’s turning. God knows he deserves it. Can you imagine if she’s kissed his crush and he’s stuck with her for the rest of the night? Dylan obviously adores Kaitlyn, and he knows that sticking with her is his best chance at getting out alive, but those emotions would still be complicated, I would think. If the infection brings out hidden insecurities (which seems to be the case for literally everyone else), we should see Dylan grapple with not feeling like his real self is good enough, with wearing a mask for two months and hiding how smart he is and all of that.

I’m not sure why we don’t see that. We know his insecurities aren’t gone because they can come up again when he’s talking about whether Ryan would want to date him with one hand (I’m sobbing internally). The only reasonable explanation I can come up with is that he’s no longer hiding that insecurity with the people whose opinions matter the most to him (Ryan and Kaitlyn). So maybe the truth really will set you free (from being a super bitchy werewolf)? I almost wish we did see him go off a bit though. I wish we had at least some kind of chase scene in that scrapyard after he turned. It would give so much more weight to the decision to not cut his hand off, if it put him at risk of mauling his gunslinging bestie, our Final Girl.

But SMG chose for him to remain a golden boy throughout and of course that also has its charms. He has an immutable set of core values and those are being good and selfless, even when he’s terrified. Which is most of the game! And even though he gets braver, he very clearly doesn’t stop being scared! He just does what he has to do anyway. Even if he’s turning into a monster. Even if the boy of his dreams cut his hand off with a chainsaw (because he asked him to). I understand why people make him too perfect in fanfic sometimes because he’s, like, almost too good?

He has his moments early on, like wanting to keep the gun, or wanting to leave Nick and Abi behind in case what attacked them has their scents (tbh these are just his genre-savviness showing and I can’t actually blame him for either). He also gives Kaitlyn some very bad advice relating to silver bullets (kill a werewolf that turns out to be Emma, leave the bullets Abi is trying to give you behind), but she doesn’t have to take it.

But have you SEEN what he does if Emma turns and comes after Kaitlyn and Kaitlyn fails to shoot? He just fucking tackles a werewolf to save Kaitlyn. He puts himself between WereEmma and Kaitlyn like a human shield. If he’s infected, great, Emma sniffs him and leaves him alone but he is clearly shocked by that. He did not know that would happen. And he did it anyway. It was a reflex. And if he’s not infected? If he was never bitten at all or he’s missing a hand? He still does the exact same thing. He can take a second bite to protect Kaitlyn. He can get infected a second time after cutting his fucking hand off. He can die to protect her if she doesn’t manage to get a shot off to save him.

Lots of characters give us the option to be self-sacrificial. Ryan can give Laura the vial of werewolf blood to protect her during the Silas showdown. Jacob can run, barefoot and mostly naked, into the woods when he hears Abi scream. Abi can die by refusing to shoot her crush because she doesn’t know it won’t actually kill Nick if she does. But those are all choices. Dylan does not give us a choice. We’re not even in control when he does that shit. He just does it. Because that’s who he is.

I’m fine. I’m so completely fine.

[ratatatastic]

idk if it's obvious but in the forsy offseason training vid the reporter asks "how do your legs feel, you know, for a man who, well, some see as a greek god" and forsy is just hand on hip staring off fondly in the distance he knows damn well who some is like even at home he's never living that ekky thirst quote down linked together forever just how ekky drew it up

OH YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

MAN HAUNTED BY HIS PARTNERS HORNINESS EVEN IN SWEDEN IM GONNA CRY EKKY LOOK WHAT YOUVE DONE THIS MAN IS GETTING HARASSED IN HIS OWN HOMETOWN OH MY GOD CAN HE NOT HAVE PEACE

[enlighten3d]

More thoughts on r!au, because you brought it up again:

There are 3 eras of wifies and his person, both of whom have similar skill sets. First comes evilfies and masked wato, who create escape rooms. Then comes clonefies and ken, who escape them. Finally comes lastfies and parrot who kill to survive. (Hearts at least are technically craftable)

Ken managed to rescue clonefies by outsmarting their predecessors. By proving that clonefies was more than a clone, through a game rigged in their favor.

Parrot managed to rescue lastfies by killing their predecessors. By proving that lastfies was just a clone, through mistaking one for the other.

There are so many stars in the bright sky, all of them basically identical. It takes knowing them and how they relate to the others around them to identify them. Who could blame you if just after sunset, when only a few are visible, you mistook one star for another? (And the sun is still a star, even as it burns you. It's your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer)

And then, because the spyglass reminded me, you can't look directly at the sun- it'll blind you. Parrot can't look directly at his own actions, can't look clearly at lastfies, can't process what happened. Is it because of how bright his mistakes shine? Or is it because his spyglass is stained with blood?

(and yes, in my opinion, lastfies and parrot can share being represented by the sun. Clonefies needs something specific to contrast and parrot deserves every parallel he gets)

Finally, does wato eventually stop putting hanging roots in their escape rooms? I doubt lastfies would know enough about escape rooms to confidently declare them as the most useless item, and why bother sneaking in a signature when you have to show up to help them out of softlocks you could have sworn they would never get into.

Just what do you do when you don't have any of your friends. Wifies is different, and parrot won't meet your eye and ken is trapped in a prison that blocks messages. (except no one off-server has heard from him and the prison seems abandoned when you try to arrange a visit and you're pretty sure that ken wouldn't have let his stasis despawn and this is apparently the only prison that parrot won't try to break someone out of)

What do you do when you have no proof, but your server feels like a graveyard.

(post in which i brought up rau again, and heres the post explaining rau. yay for having context! context is great.)

forewarning that i wrote this over the course of like, a day, sorry if its disjointed lol. but then again, what else does one expect from a long lime post but incoherency.

HI HELL YEAHHH RAU THOUGHTS!!! REPLACEMENT AU!!!!!!!!!!! i love rau did you know that <- fucking insane about this au. nonnie i love you thank you. this is going to be as incoherent + probably hard to read as usual! sorry gonna yap a lot about rau!wato here because you made the mistake of mentioning rau!wato. replacement au may be about wifies clones stuff but OUGH DOES RAU!WATO HAUNT ME. that will be the latter portion of this post tho

SO!

OOOHHH OKAY GOOD POINT. about. fuck okay thats insane? have NOT thought about the eras of wifies each having their own person and the 'transitions' reflecting their relationships... actually fucking insane. dont have anything to add just know that im staring at you w wide eyes /pos

its your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer- actually wild line im- okay. okay.

YEAH THE. the. yeah. you get it perfectly, i have no notes.the spyglass and the sun thing- fuck. he tries to look at the sun, his actions, and doesnt see, doesnt understand, but still he does it via the spyglass, via that same frame of mine of clonefies that hes unwilling to abandon. look at lastfies, understand him through the lense of parrots relationship with clonefies, understand him only as clonefies. hes still the same person! parrot didnt do anything! nothing happened! youre fine! look at lastfies, look at his own actions/mistakes through the lense of a spyglass. frame of mind of his relationship with clonefies. actuallly insane.

lastfies and parrot can share the sun/daytime. wild thought actually, i do agree. because. the sun is a star - clonefies is the stars and lastfies is just similar enough but also not really; part of a larger category but different, so different. and parrot always denies how much of himself he sees in lastfies, its a whole thing. theyre similar in so many ways but- no! this is still the same wifies! and wifies would never be like parrot. never!

OKAY. SO. NONNIE. NONNIE. ABOUT WATO. ABOUT RAU!WATO. THERES A LOT. that never got mentioned on tumblr i dont think. theyre so theatre metaphor (coughs long poem coughs). genuinely like. okay. we (milo and i) have thought abt all of what youve mentioned here. sorry the rest of the post is going to be about rau!wato i am actually fucking insane about rau!wato holy shit

the escape rooms stop having those personal touches. no hanging roots, no little injokes, hints at familiarity. theyre easier, because they know that what theyd normally make is for clonefies, who they know would figure it out. so the escape rooms are easier, and he still watches, and he still has to interfere where he shouldnt have to (why doesnt parrot pick up on these things either? (hes in denial, wato. deeeeep denial.)). its wrong on every level. because- rau!wato is so interesting. she knows that lastfies isnt clonefies. hes in WAYYY less denial than parrot (its actually impossible to out-denial rau!parrot), AND he... he was the one that found lastfies in the first place, right? so she knows about lastfies existence, she knows that something is wrong. still theres a little bit of hope (parrot wouldnt kill wifies afterall, right?) that gets held out. maybe theyve got the story wrong! but still they pull away. this wifies is wrong, theyve never been close with parrot, ken is trapped in a prison unable to escape (somethings so off about that, right? why isnt parrot helping? why is he 'respecting kens wishes' when those wishes go entirely against what he stands for? why does parrot look that way whenever ken gets mentioned? something is so wrong about this.)

what defines rau!wato is the inaction. theyre trapped in the audience, and the one time they forced their way onstage, tried to help, to do something for once, it goes wrong. and clonefies dies. now she just doesnt do anything. shes fucked everything up once already (this is all her fault, right? right?). shes got the most information out of anyone other than lastfies and parrot, shes the only one who can do anything. but he doesnt. hes messed it up already, and he doesnt know enough to get people to believe him. what do you mean, wato? what do you mean this wifies isnt the same wifies? no, hes always been this way? this violent, this quiet, this loyal- yeah sure hes a bit different from when he joined, but maybe getting chunkbanned messed him up just that much, you know? youre making things up. you have no evidence. and so wato doesnt say anything. theyre trapped in the audience, watching this play set to music that they wrote themselves, and they cant do anything about it. and everywhere he looks, theres death.

parrot and lastfies canonically die, in rau. not sure if i ever mentioned this on tumblr but whatever, am (re?)explaining it. eventually someone gets suspicious about the weirdness at proton, and maybe wato slips a piece of information or two, but they go and investigate, and theres no one there. its abandoned, more than just the lack of guards whom to ask to visit the supposed sole prisoner. theres no one there. breaking in is easy, figuring out that kenadian is not there is easier. naturally, one goes to parrot, the very person who said that ken was trapped in the first place. question him. parrot runs. lastfies follows. but parrot cant run forever, not from a bunch of people who considered ken a friend/ally, not a manhunt

this all started on a cliff, didnt it? parrot and clonefies watched the sunset from a cliff right before the lastfies thing. it ends on a cliff, too. a cliff, above the ocean. he jumps, doesnt fly, and lastfies, of course, follows willingly (theres a lot to say about lastfies). and then theyre dead, the both of them

the next day, theres an eclipse.

wato is the only person who really visits that cliff. theres this really pretty scene in the animatic milo is (was? idk) making about rau, where wato stands at that cliff during the eclipse, holding hydrangeas, and the petals fly off

onto the shore wash an earring, a spyglass, and a headband. (nothing else. parrots lost himself.)

and so, rau!wato is the last one left. out of everyone, hes the last one left. what now? pick up the pieces? sure, but theres no pieces to pick up. things remain obscured; its not like parrot or lastfies (the only ones who really knew everything, and even then their perceptions were warped in their own ways) ever wrote anything down or talked to anyone- and ken is dead, too. all she can do is piece together what she already has, and shes already done all that she could, and assumptions are dangerous, and-

its just this really really deep-seated feeling of unresolution. there will never be any resolution. watos just the last one left, left to grieve everything that happened and everyone thats died, and he cant even really talk to anyone about this, he never could, and he doesnt even know everything thats happened. hes just left to deal with the consequences of everything. and nothing is ever quite the same. whats she to do now? (they dont know.)

a server the feels like a graveyard, indeed

(pspspspspsps @milo-the-mage... i summon thee.....)

[b4kuch1n]

Your swsh art always makes me want to replay the game because i love it and its my favorite pokemon game and every time i play another pokemon game i think of it how i miss certain elements from swsh. Then i boot up the game and im once again caught in the 1 hour 40 minutes hand held intro and im like ah- now i remember why i have been playing other pokemon games instead of this one. Happy (late?) birthday!

you don't want to listen to hop? you don't want to hear him teach you about type matchups? you don't wanna let him cheer u on...? 🥺 waa....?

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ���til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of the horrors brian goosebumpsphantomoftheauditorium is still So funny for being like yeah i'm a ghost i know i'm a ghost. & he's befriended the horror fan menace duo who are giggling clutching each other like omg omg okay. we're fine. we're breaking into the school at night to investigate the horrors aaaa what if there's a ghost eek ok ok!!! & brian ghost who knows he's a ghost is like omg guys aaaa stopppp ;;m;; suffering thee Most but he's not putting on an act to conceal his phantomly destiny. he's just like that

[townofcadence]

25. your character

Munday Topics

GOSH I could say a lot about Artair!! He was the first character I ever rped, and he's changed a lot over the years as he became my own more and more. But every way he has has changed has made him more intimate to me, more mine and more unabashedly my own creation. I love all my characters, but there's just something so special about him, the way he thinks is a mindset I can slip into so easily. I know so much about his life and so many major events and how they shaped him, and I've forgotten so many moments on the blogs he's been on. Near as many as I'm sure I remember lol.

I don't even really know how to talk more about him. There's so much I could say that feels like a stack of layers. He's reckless and impulsive and self-sacrificing and sees himself as this corrupted horrific thing undeserving of love, but he pours every drop of himself into others and loving them so deeply. He doesn't want to save himself but he wants his pain to mean something because he can hold more if it means someone else holds less. He's believes himself incapable of being anything other than broken and monstrous, but in the same breath he can see the good in even the darkest of muses and he will reach out his hand for them. For someone who has fallen into so much darkness, he has so much hope and love to share, and he is so freaking kind and silly and tries to make you laugh.

He knows what it's like to be hurt, and chooses every day to be the person he needed. Every day chooses to make someone else's better. the pain and the horrors and the damage too deep to ever undo keeps coming for him, true to at least several of his abilities embodying misfortune, pain, and The End of All Things. He's been taken apart, he's died more times than you can count on both hands in terrible ways, and keeps his own tally of failings or people he's harmed or feels responsible for the death of.

But he always chooses to persevere despite what comes. He fights to keep going, even in the worst situations. If someone else is there, he might do sacrificial, foolish things to save them, but it's because he LOVES them. He loves people, he loves them being happy, finding what makes them feel good and like a person. He loves seeing them grow and smile and flourish. He loves them. He loves them he loves them to pieces and he loves seeing them find love and joy in the world, and he will put himself on a pyre as a willing lamb of sacrifice to protect that.

I don't know, there's something so fascinating by how deep and how gentle and how kind someone who has suffered beyond words can be. So many fall apart, but he desperately crushes his pieces together just so he can give you the hug you need and be there for you with every fiber of his being. It doesn't matter to him if he's okay-- what does is if you are. He still is flawed, imperfect, but he's still doing his best. He's NOT okay, he's twisted up in so many ways, taking what is usually a positive trait and it sometimes being the fatal flaw for him. But he hasn't lost what makes him human.

He's deeply tragic, written though horror after horror in past rps and blog events and M!As and such, but he is still so full of compassion and affection and still fights to be there for everyone, and to bring everyone home to those they love. And I love him so so so much.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HIII DUDE good afternoon how r u how's the tokyo ghoul rewatch going!! i would. Love 2 hear ur ghostkicks and/or tg thoughts literally at any given time. taking ur joke tags absolutely dead serious because im trying 2 figure out How To Write Them currebtly & we're doin a bit of wrangling in the google doc 😭.

u know i have the brainrot so so so badly because im on episode 3 of tg and all i can think is "i can make a pd au out of this" so im feeling rlly normal abt it basically. im blaming it on unravel.

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. ANYWAY. YEAH. HI. GHOSTKICKS. they are soooooo. tired depressed introvert gets adopted by a loud bubbly extrovert trope. at least on the surface. like how they behave at school in season 1. thinkin abt jimmy going "what is UP with bro behind u" and william just ominously lurking there. and how dakota defends him later !!!!!!!! idk how much of this youve gotten to yet bc i dont remember when it actually comes up in canon bc its such an ingrained part of his character but dakota is soooooo. guard dog coded. this hits especially hard in the "what if pd were villains" oneshot but its sooooo prevalent in canon too.

they both hold each other in the highest respect. william sees dakota as the prime (ha) example of what a hero should be. hes brave hes kind he does his best to protect everyone no matter what. hes all the things that william Isnt. BUT !!!! dakota also looks up to him !!! hes so smart hes good at problem solving hes so curious about everything and asking questions and poking his nose into things that nobody else would even consider. dakota knows hes not smart so he automatically looks to william whenever he needs a plan or someone to tell him what to do when he feels lost. they complement each other and they dont even !!!!! know it !!!!!!!

also regarding williams powers. fuck dude. season 1 he was so fucking scared of himself and ashamed of the things he could do . he hid every time he had to use wisp form !!! but dakota always thought it was so cool and was not QUIET about it. boy went fucking STAR EYES the first time he saw wisp form !!!!!! i will never stop thinking abt the first rolled for season 2 where charlie goes "if dakota hadnt left, he probably wouldve been able to convince william to keep using his powers and not to completely disregard their existence like he has been" and . considering what william is like in season 2... god this wouldve been a COMPLETELY different fucking campaign. theyre so. incredibly soulmates to me. theyre so important to each other theyd do anything for each other. i cant say too much more without accidentally giving you spoilers bc i WILL keep talking and not be able to shut up but GOD fuck ghostkicks enjoyers eat so well in the latter half of s2. moirails. 2 me !!!!!!!

[agroupofcrows]

bansai is excellent because he is one of those horror movie characters who don't initially realise they are talking to a ghost, they just think it's simply a weird alive person. and when he does find out about it, he goes "love is love," and simply stays

[vrexrobo]

Happy Easter!

Rider Time Ryuki turns five today! Next week's anniversary is for episode 2, which is notable for featuring Scissors dying ... and nothing else...

Thank you, happy Easter!!

Five whole years since Inoue's magnum opus... Yeah, I would say episode 2 is the most forgettable one. Can't really remember anything that happens in it honestly.

There was one good thing about Rider Time Ryuki though

[piningpercussionist]

*another letter!* It's me, again, I... well... not trying to be creepy, or whatever. but I had a dream about you last night, and it felt so real and it kind of shook me. ever since then it's been like I'm suddenly hyper aware of just how lonely I am . and it's kind of getting me down. for as far back as I can remember, the only thing I've ever wanted is a sincere, genuine romantic relationship, and, even though I'm fairly young, around your age. the fact that I haven't been able to even get my foot in the door on that sort of thing really bothers me. figured I'd talk, or... I guess... write? to you about it, I don't know if it's particularly impolite to dump your personal issues via pseudo-anonymous letters. so I'll keep this my rambling to a minimum. thanks for putting up with me, by the way. you're genuinely sweet. safe travels -Crush Guy

((ooc: man. sorry to answer this in a nebulous future state again. coordinating things, am I right? /j. I would have had to do so regardless though, given what I have in store for Kim here... no spoilers! :) But we'll see what happens.))

Kim flops back down on her bed, letting out a long, low groan. That trip had exhausted her, thoroughly; she wasn't sure she wanted to think about or do anything for the next forever, at least, but... She cracks open an eye and looks over at her pillows, noticing another letter waiting for her. Sitting up with a sigh, she rubs her eyes before taking it up and opening it, trying to will herself to feel more alive.

Reading over the letter, Kim frowns, feeling something like a pull in her chest. She rubs at her sternum and brings her knees up to wrap arms around her legs, looking back over it a couple times thoughtfully.

I can certainly understand that... she thought to herself, resting a cheek to one knee. I want for a lot of things, I guess. And do without them. But I can definitely understand that kind of longing.

She eventually uncurls and shifts about, moving to lean back against her propped up pillows, now placed to cover the gaps in her bed frame. Despite herself, she finds her thoughts taking her back- as they often do- to high school. She feels the painful twinge again, and she's thankful not to have to hide her emotions in the safety of her room- she'd locked the door, after all.

She could still remember what it had felt like, back then; to be loved. Or to think that you were. She'd still been herself- Kim Pine: bitchy, aloof, and sarcastic, with a corrosive tongue that loved to lash out- but with Scott she'd felt so warm, and she knew deep down that she'd let herself thaw a little, in that time. She'd been less cold in ways Lauren had called her on immediately, much to her displeasure, but she hadn't been able to deny it, then. She still couldn't now, really; she was just better at masking it. She liked to think she was, at least.

She missed feelings like that- the warmth; the carefree nature in which they'd spend their time together. The way he would look at her stunned and flush after she'd tease him over some stupid comment he'd made, or how he'd turn away whenever Kim would catch him staring at her during class...

She hates the way it still feels warm now, thinking back. Warmth paired with the uncomfortable hole in her chest- a paradoxically heavy weight to an emptiness, expanding outward, trying to numb itself and failing miserably- only spreading the fire. Though there are none, Kim finds herself rubbing at her eyes, concerned that she might find tears there.

You need to stop doing this, she thinks to herself, as ineffectively as always. The thought has no weight if she doesn't put effort into making it actionable; she knows, because she's thought it so many times before. It was high school, Kim. It clearly meant nothing to him. Let it be nothing for you, too. Please? It'd be easier.

She spends a couple minutes trying to pull herself together, picking at loose threads along the edge of her skirt. The feeling continues to linger, however, so she simply sucks it up and starts in on her reply.

Don't worry about it, guy; dreams take us a lot of places we don't intend. It's not really creepy- honestly maybe expected, with us talking like this. Hope it was a pleasant one. And it's alright, I think. I get where you're coming from, too. I mean, I've dated around, but it's hard to find genuine connection with people. The kind I crave, at least. You'll need to kill me before I admit anything beyond that, though, heh. No problem, and also thanks, I suppose. Though I have my doubts on how true of a statement that is.

She's not entirely certain if she's satisfied with her answer by the time she's done, but she shrugs and sends it anyway, too tired to give it much more thought. Maybe a nap will fix me... she wonders to herself, eventually moving to lay curled up on her side facing the wall.

She would try for a while, but sleep would elude her; instead, a reel of memories plays back in her mind, haunting her with a distant, hopeful version of herself. How naive...