Hehehe I need to reread rrff but Iâm also scared to reread itđ§cause i can only remember this, but i wanna draw other scenes. Preferable the ones that DONT make me wanna curl up on the ground and cryâš
They live in my head rent free, mainly cause I'm a lousy landlord and let them-
So heres a little fan doodle (I'm gonna hate it when I wake up) dark mode and light mode cause the colors look a lil brighter and mildly off design in dark mode. I did color select off the lil ref charts but color theory will color theory igâš
Me: Weâre gonna do a quick little doodle to show how much this story has taken over our life, yes?
Brain: yes
Me: And itâs not gonna turn into a full-blown drawing, right?
Brain: âŠ
Me: Right?????
Had to get this done quickly, so itâs a bit rushed :â) I also found out while doing this that zinnias symbolise âa reminder to never forget absent friends and lasting affectionâ and oh my gosh I almost cried how did I not realise-
Anyways here's my interpretation of Memory's little brother!
Btw Grace is my HC last name for the Galaxy family-
Also yeah I also see Memory as the short one in the family lol
Desolation is definetly the suck up to Void who gets more praise and attention. He's manipulative to the point where he gets people in his favor rather than hating him. He actually shows affection too.
He also is genuinely protective of Memory, and the rose colored glasses are a big hint to his personality. He's also very egotistical.
Anyways yeah Desolation Grace my beloved [evaporates]
Also with the light grey hair I just wanted he and Memory to look like polar opposites as much as they are personality wise
Also known as The Guy That Was Given A Purpose In RRFF
(Iâm scared for the next chapter- hasnât Memmy done enough? Does he need to revive Void Steve? What did Void Steve ever do for him??)
*******
ISSQ:
aaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHÂ
ITâS MY DAPPER BOI. MY RRFF SON. (For people who need context: RRFF is short for âRemorseful Recollections of the Forgotten Family,â which is a mature-rated gen hurt/comfort Steve Saga fanfic written by the moderator of ISSQ. Memory is the main character of RRFF.)
Thank you for drawing my boi ;0; He looks so spooky and looks like heâs ready to cause chaos. And I really like how you drew his head/mask; the different brushes create a really cool effect and make Memory look even more cryptic.
(And Iâm posting this the day after RRFFâs newest chapter was postedâŠI hoped you enjoyed it XD)
Untitled -Â Roman Reigns Gladiator FanFic - Prologue?
GIF by @romanvreigns
So I wrote this TWO YEARS AGO; May 2017. I saw a prompt on the blog of someone I followed at the time and for some reason, it inspired my brain and I remember opening up Word at work and just writing. Of course, as is the case with me 99% of the time, I never followed up on it.Â
But Iâm reposting it now to see if it piques anyoneâs interest?Â
I wish you would write a fic where reader is a wealthy Greek who buys a gladiator (Roman and/or the shield) to get him out of the fighting life and she has to rehabilitate him to regular human life and not the life of a man fighting for his life (think feral children/severe abuse victims etc) like heâs so blown away that he can /sit on a chair/ and she has to constantly reassure him that heâs not going back to fight. Mostly fluff and angst. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!Â
In the story, Dexios = Dean Ambrose
Stolen prompt from @savmontreal
Despite the pointed stares and blatant whispers, sheâd entered the arena with her head held high.
âLet them talk,â she thought to herself, grinding the teeth in the back of her mouth. She knew the decision to make a public appearance so soon after her husbandâs death would draw attention. To choose The Games to appear at would be considered even more audacious. Labels did not bother her; if they did then she would have been broken when they called her a whore on her wedding day. Or she would have collapsed when her husband took to beating her regularly for the looks of desire thrown her way by other men, despite no encouragement from her at all. So when he choked to death while literally raising his hand to her, she did not mourn, not for one second. She stepped over his still warm corpse to pour herself a glass of wine, sat in his chair, and silently wept, thanking the Gods for delivering her from the evil that had been plaguing her behind closed and supposedly respectable doors for far too long.
As she approached his seat, located high above the arena in a place of so called honor, instead of whispers she heard unnatural silence. His peers all watched her now, no doubt wondering how she dared to live her life. She was sure to look each man and meek wife that stood with him in the eye, offer a meaningless bow of her head to feign respect, and then removed her cape, handing it to her servant as she took his place, now her rightful place, and waited for The Games to begin.
To be honest, this was one of the more difficult tasks to pretend to tolerate as the wife of a wealthy Greek. She found The Games deplorable. While some gladiators were volunteers risking life and limb to appear in the arena, most were slaves. The life of a slave was a life she was all too familiar with, and one she swore to never again return to. That familiarity is what made watching The Games so painful for her. As a slave she was stripped of her freedom, of choices, and even her humanity. Many would believe that being removed from her life of slavery by a rich and powerful man meant that this man must have been some kind of hero.
The truth was much blacker, as that man was in no way her liberator. She really just traded one type of prison for another. While prison with him provided her with finer shackles in the form of gorgeous clothes and adornments, an actual bed to sleep in and a table to dine at ⊠nothing belonged to her & he was sure to remind her every chance he got, be it with harsh words, stinging slaps, and worse, if the mood overtook him.
When she was scoffed at and looked down upon, she was not sure how to react. She never dared to believe she would be accepted into this new world, but being accustomed to being ignored, attention was brand new to her, even if it was negative. Being a slave did not mean she did not have a heart, even one as hardened as hers thanks to a lifetime of slavery. She knew her freedom was an illusion, even if all around her did not. Even now, with him gone and no obstacles in her way, she was still a prisoner ⊠of her own doubts and fears. The feel of her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm brought her back to the present as she contemplated how long she would be haunted and wondering what it would take to break truly free from all she had endured.
The Games had gotten underway while she had become lost in her own thoughts, and as the crowd roared, she turned her attention to the arena. She grimaced as she realized it would soon be time for The Decision to be made. She had been allowed to defer the decision to her formerâs 2nd. Normally this would not be allowed, but as Dexios was the only person to ever not show her disdain or crueltyâŠshe suspected he might be the first actual man she would encounter.
Dexios gave her a nod, his unruly brown hair hanging in in his eyes. Despite the fact his hair appeared as a curtain, shielding his eyes from view, Dexios was astute and saw more than others realized. He had noticed the careful way she moved the days after she was beaten, even though He had always been sure to hit her in places where the bruises would not show in public. Dexios caught on to what was happening fairly quickly, and the looks he would throw His way ⊠the way his eyes looked in those moments, she truly believed he was capable of a violence that would sweep him away forever, perhaps into an asylum. But just as quickly as the storm would show in his eyes, Dexios would calm himself and turn his attention to her, taking quiet and almost unnoticeable care of her when he could. That is to say, nobody else would notice, but she certainly did.
Now, he stood to her left, hands one atop the other as he waited on her to pass the decision to him. The crowd roared as one gladiator towered over the other. The soon-to-be winner had the other by a handful of hair, down on his knees, chest heaving and curved up from the blade of a sword, eyes cast downward. The sword at his throat seemed to not affect him at all; this gladiator seemed to be done.
Some unseen force pulled her to her feet, and as she felt the rough wall beneath her own callused fingertips, she felt her brows draw together as she intently stared at the almost defeated gladiator. Why she was willing him to look at her, she did not know. All she knew was that she felt a tugging deep down within her, not only in her gut but on her heart and she needed to see the eyes of this gladiator. As though he heard her thoughts, the nearly beaten man gazed upwards at her. She felt her breath catch; even at this distance, there was something in his eyes, something so familiarâŠ
Dexios hovered closely at her side, waiting for the responsibility of deciding whether this man was to live or die. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his mouth open and turned her head to him. She shook her head no, and her expression must have told him that he was to have no responsibility this day. Her right arm began to raise. She had to swallow the lump in her throat at what she was about to do because she had never done this before. She was not sure what the consequences would be, that she suddenly and without warning stepped in to make this decision, and surely speculation would run rampant. All of her doubts and worry rushed through her head, showing clearly on her face, as she seemed to move in slow motion.
As her eyes raised to the gladiator once more, she bit her lipâŠ.and suddenly, he was unleashed. He jerked from his opponentâs slightly lax grip, as that man had been waiting for the decision to be rendered. The long haired man sprang to his feet from his knees, headbutting his opponent under the chin, causing that man to stumble back. He took the opportunity to grab his sword, run and jump into the air, slashing at his opponent, slicing open his adversaryâs throat. She gasped as she watched the man fall to the ground amidst the joyous, blood thirsty roar of the crowd. The long haired gladiator threw his sword to the ground forcefully, and when he turned to look at her over his shoulder, his face was angry. She was taken aback at that strong of an emotion being directed her way, but after only a few moments, his face transformed from anger to a more pensive and frustrated nature.
He tore his gaze from hers and looked at the people around him, in the stands, on their feet with hands in the air, cheering. The anger returned as his face gathered and he opened his mouth and let out a bellowing yell. While it served to pull more raucous sounds from the crowd, she was certain it was not meant to be celebratory. His head fell, his long dark hair shrouding him from her as he made his way back to his prison.
âDexiosâŠâ she whispered, reaching out to him. When she turned to look at him, he looked worried.
âYes, my lady?â Her lips opened but she floundered as she felt the gazes of everyone around her. They had seen her rise from her chair for the first time and almost act as judge & jury. It was unexpected and suspicious and there was no way around it. She did not know what overcame her, or what she was feeling now because she had an urge to go find that gladiator.
âDexiosâŠâ
âMy lady, let me escort you,â he offered, giving her his arm to take. She did so, gratefully, as she attempted to work through what had just happened. Once Dexios had her out of the arena, he spoke.
âMy lady, I am not certain what inspired your actions today but I fear that you will be the subject of much speculation and possibly retaliation. And though you have not requested, allow me to offer advisement âŠâ His expression was intense and as serious as she ever remembered seeing it. âThink over what you mean to do very very carefully. I know where you come from, and to go down the path you seem to be wanting to follow nowâŠ.might return you to a life I know you do not want to return to.â
She worried her lower lip with her teeth, weighing his words very carefully and thoughtfully, wringing her hands. Dexios knew her well and she knew he only had her best interest at heart but this feeling inside of her ⊠it could not be ignored.
âIs it possible for me to see him?â she asked, looking up into his face. Dexios sighed heavily, looking down at the ground as he cupped her shoulders. When he looked up, half of a smile touched his lips as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
âI knew one day your heart would lead us here,â he told her quietly. He took both of her hands in his. âMay the Gods be with us on this journey.â He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths. When he opened them, she saw a look in his eyes she had never seen before and it took her breath away. âMy ladyâŠ.follow me.â She trembled slightly as she wrapped her arm around his, but somehow, his large warm hand upon the back of hers calmed her stammering heart. She let him lead herâŠdown this path that was unknown to her but she somehow knew, by Dexios and her own heart, would lead her back to somewhere she knew all too well.
