WE BEGIN THE HUMAN GAME
independent, private, selective nicholas ryves from the demon’s lexicon est 14.07.17 / written by nik

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WE BEGIN THE HUMAN GAME
independent, private, selective nicholas ryves from the demon’s lexicon est 14.07.17 / written by nik
≻ ⭑*。 WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE ALMOST HUMAN?
≻ ⭑*。 WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE ALMOST HUMAN?
makin icons like
“um.”
griefdefined:
❛ shit, yeah—— yeah, must’ve been. ❜ he lies, and unconvincingly so. it wasn’t a butt-dial. samson never accidentally called grey, there was always a reason, that reason usually being that he simply wanted to know that the other was there. that he could still reach him. it gave samson a great deal of comfort. this time, however, he’d been unable to get his words out, and hung up after a long period of silence, afraid that he was going to embarrass himself. cheeks were now tinted red at the idea of grey possible sensing the obvious truth. it shouldn’t take him by surprise that his ex showed up at his door, yet it does. and he finds himself swallowing down thickly before pulling the door open further, exposing a messy dorm-room. ❛ you wanna come in for a bit, since you’re here ?? it’s a bit of a mess, but… i-i can tidy up a bit. ❜
i’m glad you’re okay. there isn’t much more to say beyond that, but he doesn’t mind. the notebook gives him permission to be short; if it has no other benefits, that’s enough. grey elects to ignore the other’s flushed cheeks, only nodding to the offer to enter. the mess doesn’t bother him ------ that is, it doesn’t turn him away from the room. he’s inside the room and moving things a moment later, neatening up the bed. it’s probably more habit than actual desire to see things neat, but he doesn’t mind helping. the bottom edge of the sheets are folded into tight hospital corners, creating the beginning of a military-style covering.
griefdefined:
open to mutuals.
❛ what’re you doin’ here ?? ❜
he came because he can’t stay away; he’s here because there’s nowhere he’d rather be. all things he can’t quite say. you called me and didn’t say anything. i was worried. i guess it was a butt-dial. grey offers the ghost of a smile to accompany his written words, notebook turning towards the other.
i only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be UTTERLY EMPTY. how free it is, you have no idea how free —— the PEACEFULNESS is so big it dazes you, and it asks nothing. ( s.p. )
samson stilinski / original character / penned by gigi.
um who wants to stop me from joining another rpg
ok but it’s 23:50 on a sunday night why tf are the neighbours still partying
thx to @trageidies i took the time to find a vine that describes grey and here it is
ok please here’s a starter call while i fix my tags to represent grey’s new m ain verse
vaultstolen:
her hand is already instinctively moved forward , but he doesn’t hurt. eyes cast down to the wound instead , a short second of hesitation before she pulls her hand back to her chest. she wishes she didn’t feel pain , how lucky can he be. ❝ do you want me to … wrap it then ? it’s ––– bad. ❞
he could say no , do it himself later ------ but she knows pain and is probably aware of how tight a bandage can go. no matter how careful he is , he always manages to give himself bruises around all his injuries from wrapping it too tightly. after a moment of thought he gives a nod , extending his injured arm to her. bullets never bothered him much , but he understands that it looks bad.
and alastair, at the end of every day – every one – he would come over, and he would make me an offer: to take me off the rack if i put souls on. if i started the torturing. and every day, i told him to stick it where the sun shines. FOR THIRTY YEARS, i told him: but then i couldn’t do it anymore, sammy; i couldn’t. and i got off that rack. GOD HELP ME: i got right off it, and i started ripping them apart. i lost count of how many souls.
how i feel, this … inside me … i wish i couldn’t feel anything, sammy. i wish i couldn’t feel a damn thing. [cr.]
vaultstolen:
OPEN TO MUTUALS !
“ let me take your pain. ”
he glances to the wound and then back to her , shaking his head as a hand moves to write in his notebook. it doesn’t hurt. i don’t feel pain. there’s a pause as he thinks over what to write next , brows slightly furrowed in contemplation , before he adds one sentence more. thank you , though.
fuck if i’m going to start making icons i need to .. um .. start making icons
i fixed all my names everywhere idk
give this post a like / reblog if you and your muse(s) aren’t cis. finding blogs run by and for people / characters like me has proven difficult in the rpc; hence, me making this post. it isn’t just for me, however – it’s for any trans / nb / every other non - cis identifying persons looking to fill their dash with more diverse / likeminded blogs ! CANONS, ORIGINALS AND MULTIMUSES ARE WELCOME TO REBLOG.
NOTE : if you are not cis but your muse is, you’re allowed to reblog. IF YOU ARE CIS DO NOT REBLOG, even if your character isn’t.