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confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur of what is known as 𝙿𝟺𝚁𝙺𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴𝚂! — original character multimuse, by dirk.

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐘 , i line 'em up and knock 'em down like this!

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HEY, WHERE'D DIRK GO?

p4rklifes - oc mutlimuse

boykn1ghts - canon multimuse

pinfalles - kayfabe multimuse

ma1nevents - jey <3

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insane about my ocs today so i'll be there. i'm also coincidentally insane about lev's ocs so follow him as well or else

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night 2 was bad. frankly. fuck aj and fuck lesnar

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the urge to roll his eyes is barely fought. all anyone cares about is what he's done, the gore he left in his wake when desperation made an animal of him. kem waves a hand. "you and everyone else." every year it makes it into a reel of some kind, playing in technicolor loop to the delight and horror of the grinning mouths that cheered him on. he knows there's no space for the boy in the ring, and so the creeping beast remains low. no need to stretch his paws for this. "all your questions are online already. yes, it was real blood. yes, he needed stitches. no, we're mot in touch. no, he doesn't wrestle anymore." his eyes shine, a cat's at midnight under a searchlight. "i do, though."

turns   his   head   to   the   side   in   wonder.   starry-eyed   boy   bled   out   on   the   pavement   but   got   replaced   by   someone   just   as   easily   impressed.   sees   blood-red   and   wonders   from   where   this   one   bled   the   most   (   not   the   temple,   not   the   chest,   maybe   just   from   the   gums.   )   doesn't   ask.   doesn't   need   to   when   the   omens   dance   and   scream   before   his   very   eyes   in   warning.   has   ignored   more   for   less.   ❝   the   eyes   remember,   and   i   never   said   it   was   recently.   ❞   scoffs   at   the   ignorance   even   when   he   never   expected   understanding.   does   it   hurt   to   sink   teeth   into   knowledge   ?   ❝   and   i   don't   care   about   your   teeth,   i   care   about   what   you've   done.   ❞

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the second they're alone, liv drapes herself over evi's forearm, all blonde curls and pink lips. "ignore him," she says and doesn't specify, mouth wide around her gum and split in her friendliest smile. "everyone sucks with new people until they're, like, bloodied, basically. but...!" both of her hands clasp and tug, evi's elbow and palm snared in her delight, "you're in! this is the clubhouse - don't sit there, that's mine, but everywhere else is open, and..." liv trails off, but not for long, interrupting herself with a sharp sigh. "it's just so nice to have another girl around here. me and raquel are totally outnumbered." @countouts, liv and evi, ♡.

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post summerslam night one starter call! anyone on my roster is up for grabs and if you ask for jey you'll get one on his blog too i'm just that nice <3 all will be tagged with 's/ummersl/am spoilers /'!

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this sun-drenched version of them is such a pretty mirror to april. seth extends his arms just like he did then, magnanimous and delighted. "daddy's home!" were dominik already on his leash, he'd tuck him under one arm and ruffle his hair hard, but for now he makes do with a casual slap on the shoulder. "here we are again, tough guy, 'cept this time it's all you. you feelin' good? you feelin' ready?" @latin0cheat, unprompted.

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someone needs to kiss him, kill him, pull his hair out by the root. seth once again has dangled joy in the face of his adversaries and watched them snap their useless jaws beneath it, frothing with the hope he allows them to have only so he can take it away, chew it slow between his grinning teeth. he hasn't let go of paul since the count, one arm locked around his oracle to steady the both of them. the boys are yapping dogs, one lame (poor bron and his limping vigilance) and the other rabid (bronson savaging the naysayers backstage with just a look), but here with heyman he finds a like mind. "how's that for revolutionary, huh?" @countouts, seth and heyman, unprompted.

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"hanging out here really sucks, mate." nathan's just as eager to make them uncomfortable as they are him, honestly; the only reason he's at a disadvantage is he's alone, and their strength in numbers is really the only strength they've got, so it's well-honed. he can't well fight as himself against liv, so he clicks through to find lyra, listening to the game's interface spin. "least comfortable 'clubhouse' i've ever sat in, and i faffed around in beavers for three years." finally, he finds his friend and settles in. "i'll eat, yeah."

he follows nathan's gaze over his shoulder, expression blank as he watches jd and finn whisper. he could strain to hear them if he wanted to, but realistically, it isn't anything he needs to worry about right now. "nah, they just don't like you. we talk normally when everyone needs to hear us." with that settled, he turns back to the screen, clicking through to play as liv. "they're probably just planning where to get lunch. you hungry?" dominik's hungry, at least, and he's kept nathan playing games for a hot minute.

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"i won't tell," brandon hums soft, hardly anything more than an excuse to nuzzle closer, tuck himself into the broad plane of solo's shoulder and breathe in his warmth, the scent of sheets and sleep they've cultivated through the night. all he wants, more than a fresh coat of paint on his talons and a sweet drink to coax him awake, is to live like this for as long as he can. the maneater is learning how to be a show for an audience of one, and takes this as his rehearsal, learns the moves by heart. "don't want you to have to drop anything, though. i like... y'know. when you've got things."

most   people   leave,   and   that's   usually   fine   with   him.   carries   memories   and   names   around   in   his   carry-on   because   he   never   learned   to   let   shit   go.   has   spent   so   long   trying   to   hold   a   crumbling   family   together   that   he's   forgotten   what   it's   like   to   build   a   new   one.   until   brandon,   until   his   new   brothers-who-were-once-cousins.   now   he   melts   like   a   softer   thing   underneath   traffic   lights   in   the   back   of   a   car   with   tinted   windows.   ❝   just   sayin',   i'll   go   with   you,   dawg.   don't   tell   anyone,   but   i'd   drop   ‘t   all   for   you.   ❞   means   it   like   nothing   else.   is   a   fraud   anyway   when   he   carries   the   title   of   tribal   chief.   would   much   rather   wear   the   title   of   brandon’s   man   all   day   every   day.

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"we don't have a relationship." nathan's eyes still burn with injustice, but his face has softened somewhat. he'll tuck the disbelief away for later, give her the benefit of seeing him take her confidence at face value. "i hardly know the bloke. what is there to hash out? naff all, lash, 'cept for him getting a lucky pin."

she does release him, hands up, instinctively looking for her crew behind her like they're in on this conversation, too. "nah, nah, you can beat him. i'm saying he's going to be a pain in the ass about it." she almost snickers, decides to save that joke for trick to hear later instead. when nathan doesn't laugh back, she lowers her hands, but not her voice. "hashing out relationship stuff in the ring is a bad idea, you get me."

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oh, the net is closing. tariq's heard about moments like this, seen them play out from backstage after opening the show with a spotlight he has to chase. he grins, brilliant and true, barely hiding the malice between his teeth. "my mama don't got time for bums," he volleys back, already glancing over his shoulder to see how the masses liked that one, "you must'a been real fucked up if that lady convinced you she was a relation'a mine. might wanna see if they got a clinic 'round here."

forgets   they   are   center   stage   for   a   moment.   blindsided   by   the   shine   and   glory   of   youth.   ❝   listen   here   ya   pool   boy,   ❞   forgets   the   point   he   was   going   to   make   the   second   the   words   leave   his   mouth,   but   marching   on   regardless   (   he   has   to,   the   crowd   is   laughing   now,   but   he   needs   to   show   them   that   he   is   better   )   ❝   how   'bout   you   ask   your   mama   if   i   still   got   rounds   in   me.   didn't   last   night   when   i   left   her.   ❞

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he scoffs, breath warm against axiom's hidden cheek. nathan leans in the extra inch, knocks forehead into temple just long enough to let himself grin properly, free of snark and spite. "oh, bet she did." now he's seen the shape through the mask, he can't help but chase it. "probably thought she was walking in on a bloody promposal, the way pete holds on." like an eager dog, nathan rebounds, nudging into axiom's chin, just this side of publicly decent. "'ooh, tavion, go on then, g'is a snog, just one, charlie won't mind'-"

he pulls nathan an inch closer. if he's looking at axiom at the right angle, he might be able to see that axiom's smiling behind the mask, any laughter he might've been holding back now coaxed forward by nathan. pete's long since scurried off now, but axiom keeps his grip tight on nathan regardless. "he thinks the referee has something against him. she was counting slow, cost him the win." there were other parts to the story, but neither nathan nor axiom are the type to blame a referee for their (few and far between) losses, so this is a safer bet.

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rey does his best not to hold his breath. he reminds himself of his hard-won virtues often, especially now he's rebuilding what he can only assume he broke; patience, humility, acceptance, honour, love. taught, handed down, gifted and snatched at, they're more than just words but less like promises these days. he'd thought his word was easy to give and easier still to keep until he realised he'd been double-crossing himself without speaking for years. "it'll always be your space no matter where you are." soft and quiet, so as not to smother; how does he explain to his child that a father will hold open the door no matter how empty the night is?

"you can curse, dominik." simpler than accepting the thanks is the smile that softens the corner of his mouth. "just not at the dinner table. your mother's asked for only that as far back as i remember." rey isn't sure how safe the past is to glance at, even through a window, and so he reaches back still further to keep dom free of it. "do you want to finish up here by yourself? i don't need to, y'know, hover."

"not my space if i'm gone." he doesn't mean anything bad by it; to him, at least, it's true that this house belongs to them, that he was only ever meant to be a transient part of it. home for holidays and for whatever this is. at the clubhouse, he'd slept in rhea's room, mostly, and then his and then his-and-liv's, but none of them were too precious about those designations. he'd slept in the main area just as often. a togetherness that had felt comfortable rather than cloying.

"nah, that's all..." he waves his hand, unsure what he's trying to convey. "blue's fine. it's just walls." white sounds suffocating in a different sense. a blank slate's a little too much to ask for, and even if it weren't, that would be too much pressure, too easily marred. "i can put some posters up. some mood lights and sh -- yeah, it'll be good." he should say thank you here, he's pretty sure, but that's too much, so he directs it towards the boxes instead. "thanks. didn't know i had so much stuff."

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"might get more screentime if you were." one thick shoulder rests absently against the cool concrete closing them in. cade knows the boy and likes him fine, not because of the name he hides but in spite of it. ellis might not wish for the picture of breakker laid over his own, but he must wish for the glory. they all do, somewhat - why else should they show up every morning if not to grasp at things better men did before them? "too busy bein' a bad soldier to earn what he earns. dumb as rocks, but smart enough to be a company man." he's seen so many like him wither and die, and even more scream themselves into blooming. "not your style, i don't think."

dog   knows   he   wanders   around   like   an   omen   of   bad   moods   and   destruction.   knows   he   wears   his   scowl   like   armour,   but   is   too   far   gone   to   apologize   for   the   dents   and   the   smears   of   grease   he   leaves   behind.   cracks   his   knuckles   now   as   if   he   is   preparing   for   a   match   right   here,   right   now   with   the   oldtimer.   has   no   more   respect   to   give   to   ancient   relics.   ❝   man,   you   know   damn   well   my   day   was   already   spoiled   the   second   i   woke   up.   ❞   cade   probably   doesn't.   he   probably   doesn't   give   a   fuck   about   a   mad   dog   named   ellis        ;        but   what's   the   fun   in   admitting   that   ?!   ❝   and   newsflash,   i'm   already   fucking   nuts.   nothing   being   emotional   or   not   is   going   to   do   for   that.   all   they   want   from   me   is   to   bark   these   days,   who   am   i,   bron   breakker   ?   ❞