#♚{ there is an escape || verse

[smugliar]

Upon first getting out, and recovering from that process, Ace goes back to his usual thing. It lasts about a year until The Trauma of the realm really knocks down his door. He ignores it until he physically or mentally cannot hold back the dam anymore. Aside from the realm, Ace has to keep an eye out for folks who want to get his ass for shit he's not followed up on or double-crossed. I imagine he tries to settle somewhere, and gets some local gig hosting or some sort of job where he can lay low from everyone altogether.

At some point down the line, he gets really lonely due to the lack of constant company the other survivors provided. I imagine that before the realm Ace had "friends" but they never lasted too long as he was constantly bouncing around to other cities. Not to mention he fucked so many of them over for cash or flat-out stole from. So as much as he was a dick to most of the survivors, they were probably his closest friends (cough found family cough) and he has ever had.

He has moments where he misses them and might poke around to see who made it out. Part of him wants to reconnect in some way, and another part wants nothing to do with any of them. He might even freak at seeing some of the survivors upon a surprise encounter.

Ace is also pushing his late 50s at that point, so he tries to deal with his addiction issues but it's difficult to do alone so it never goes well. This is the same for substance abuse with booze and smoking. If anything he does it more now in order to shut things out.

This is very long but I got thoughts...

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

Answering @witchcraftandburialdirt cause tumblr BROKE your poor ask :)

♱ What do they think awaits them after death?

[Nothing.

Wesker thinks that there is nothing on the other side. Even being inside of The Fog really has not altered his feelings on the matter. Despite everything, he regards that place as a sort of "in between" that he is confined within: neither living nor necessarily dead.

Were he to fall in The Void or escape and then die in his own world permanently he believes that the essence of who he is would cease to exist.]

☼ If they had the choice to be immortal with one other person, who would they choose?

[Very verse dependent.

In any verse where he's single then he does not care. He'd likely not pick another person. Or he'd prefer to be alone instead.

In his verses where he has a ship/partner of some sort then he wants them to be with him. So, for example, in the verse where he is in a relationship with Billy @prettytm he would choose him as the other immortal.]

♚ Do they consider themselves to be evil?

[He technically does - but Wesker also see's morality and the concept of good and bad to be very rooted in humanity's attempt to regulate itself. From his perspective it's all subjective and therefore it's pointless and not worth caring about.

It is why he tends to shrug at accusations of being a bad person. He genuinely does not care if people think he's bad. He is above people.]

[hargrove]

𝙄'𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞-𝙢𝙚!

✘♚✘ single dad au

➠ his default is in his canon timeline, so he'd have a kid in 1988 when he's 21. I can adapt this for modern times, as well. this can be adapted for Upside Down stuff or without

When Billy escapes from the Upside Down at the end of S4 (per his default main verse), he stays in Hawkins long enough to make sure that Max gets healthy again before he leaves for his home in San Diego.

While in San Diego, living on his own, he knocks up a girl, but wants to stay with her to help the baby.

Sandy Maxine Hargrove is born Feb. 25th, 1988. She's named after Sandy West of The Runaways.

The mother bails when she's still a newborn, not ready for the responsibility.

Not wanting to be like his own parents, Billy takes full responsibility in raising her. It's not easy and he works multiple jobs, but he completely falls in love with his daughter.

When Sandy is a toddler, Billy decides to move back to Hawkins where Max and Susan can help him with the little girl.

Sandy has curly blonde hair and blue eyes. She's very extroverted and rambunctious, and loves to be active. Billy takes her to the beach often and even surfs with her.

[bloodstainedstar]

Please note: This section will be updated from time to time.

Verses

❝ THIS ISN’T A BACK ALLEY IT’S WAR ❞ / VERSE

❝ YOU SHAPED THE CENTURY ❞ / VERSE

❝ NOT GONNA KILL ANYONE ❞ / VERSE

❝ A SEMI-STABLE HUNDRED YEAR OLD MAN ❞ / VERSE

❝ NOW YOU ARE FREE ❞ / VERSE

❝ THAT’S ALL I EVER TRIED TO DO. AND I FAILED TWICE ❞ / VERSE

❝ LUCK HASN’T EXACTLY BEEN ON MY SIDE ❞ / VERSE

❝ THE MISSION NEVER ENDS ❞ / VERSE

❝ THE PEOPLE V. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES ❞ / VERSE

Chapters

❝ BOUND TO YOU IN SIN ❞ / CHAPTER

Trigger Warnings

☠ TW: NSFW

☠ TW: RAPE

☠ TW: PTSD

☠ TW: HTP

☠ TW: SOMNOPHILIA

☠ TW: ED

Information

✎ INFORMATION / VERSES

✎ INFORMATION / THREAD TRACKER

✎ INFORMATION / ARMORY

✎ ART

✎ FIXING MARVEL

✎ INFORMATION / DOSSIER

✎ INFORMATION / TAGS

✎ INFORMATION / RULES

✎ INFORMATION / WRITER

Bucky

❅ MUSINGS / NOT THE SOLDIER. OR THE PARTNER. OR THE WEAPON. OR THE STARPOINT.

❅ VISAGE / AND IF HE WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU THEN HE WAS WRONG ABOUT ME.

❅ RECORD PLAYER

✎ HEADCANONS

❅ BIOGRAPHY

Ships/Relationships

𖦹 ALPINE

Steve Rogers: ᯓ★ THAT SKINNY KID FROM BROOKLYN

Helmut Zemo: ♚ SOKOVIAN DARLING

Karen Page: ༄ AND TELL ME IF SOMEHOW SOME OF IT REMAINED / HOW LONG YOU WOULD WAIT FOR ME?

Brock Rumlow: 𐂯 WILL YOU BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS? WILL YOU CHEW UNTIL IT BLEEDS?

Stephen Strange: ❅ YOU GIVE ME FEVER / AND DRIVE ME INSANE / YOU KEEP ME GOING IN CIRCLES WITH POTIONS AND BOTTLES / AND I CAN’T ESCAPE

Khan Noonien Singh: ∞ IF THERE’S SOMETHING STILL TO TAKE / THERE IS GROUND TO BREAK / WHATEVER’S STILL TO COME

Hydra!Steve Rogers: ▼ AND MY LOVE / DID I MISTAKE YOU FOR A SIGN FROM GOD? / OR ARE YOU REALLY HERE TO CUT ME OFF?

Status

✍ WHO THE HELL IS QUEUE?

✉ INBOX

✉ ANON

✌ WRITER: OOC

Threads

✎ CLOSED STARTER

❅ QUIZZES

❅ PROMPTS

▼  OPEN: ALL

▼  OPEN: MUTUALS

[shadowsceptereda]

❝ Remember... I don’t... remember... ❞ a disorientated mumble as he looks around as if fear had struck him like lightning. His form is unstable, rattling, feeling as though it will fall apart any moment. He cannot recall the void that resides in his mind, the HATRED, the LOSS -- all he feels is sadness, terror and a touch of anger. CONFUSED. He’s so confused. Where was he? Who was he? What happened? What -- ❝ Cold... why do I feel so cold... ❞

[jeoseungsaja]

♚ EXCERPTS OF LEE HYUK’S PAST  VERSE THREE: I DREAMED OF A HAPPY ENDING  tw: mentions of murder, blood, death, abuse, inebriation, overdose, presumption of suicide, fire, cigarette use.

You’re just like your crazy mother. A burden. A fearful thing who can’t do anything. Maybe you should’ve ended up just like her. 

It’s what your father always told you. Time and time again; a sharp hammer hitting a bent nail even when deeply and crookedly stuck in wood. It’s what he always yelled when he arrived home, sloshed out of his mind. Inebriated laughter constantly echoed through; a maddening ring whenever he banged on the door of a room he personally kept with a tightened lock as to maintain you inside, like a prisoner. He gained amusement whenever he heard you gasp and hide under the covers of your bed; scrambling to the nearest corner of the mattress. The least you wanted was to feel the heavy power of his hand; a hand that showed you nothing but pain, a hand which was never coded with affection.

It was just you and him. Your mother died when you were only nine years old. The memory is still drilled in your brain, because you were the one who found her without a pulse after a supposed overdose; pills loosely latched onto limp hand and a broken glass with spilled water scattered on the floor. You begged her to wake up, to please run away with you whilst they still had time, but there was no response. Your mom was gone and you were left under the care of a selfish soul who only believed his lavish position mattered. 

A king with a filthy crown in an organization that upheld illicit activities.

Horrible, isn’t it? How others saw him as a figure to admire outside the nightmarish house, not knowing he kept a little kid under lock and key with barely enough food to keep going. He couldn’t bear to look at you, for you were the spitting image of the person he married and the person he hated, all at the same time. Because your eyes reminded him of her, as well as your stubbornness whenever he opened the door and you dared to fight back (weakly so, you could never win). He never talked about you with others; dared to say he never had a child, just a widower who never really mourned the loss of his wife. 

You dumb kid! Don’t you know? You’ll stay in there forever if you keep fighting me. I’m trying to give you a chance! And you’re being an ungrateful bastard.  Keep biting me, see who ends up destroying who! 

One day, the smell of ash and smoke filled your nostrils while you were sleeping. Your father unconsciously began a fire in one of his drunken webs, falling asleep with lit cigarette mercilessly licking the curtains. For some, such a situation would’ve been terrible. For you, it was freedom.  The neighbors were the ones to alert the police about it. You remember running as soon as the fire swallowed part of the door, creating a hole that was big enough for you to slide under. However, your lungs were congested with smoke and you couldn’t even reach the house’s garden when you fell unconscious. It was a good thing the authorities arrived on time; enough to locate you and send you to the nearest hospital.  It was said you were the only survivor.  Years later, you’d find out that was a lie. 

When you wake up, you feel disorientated and ready to flee once more despite dizziness. You don’t want to be there. You don’t want to get back to the place you escaped from. You rip the strange things attached to your arms so you can hop off the bed. But when you do that, someone stops you.

A woman. A police officer; hand holding onto your shoulder as if her life depended on it. Looking up with a rabid gaze, you were met not with the usual hatred but concern. 

Don’t worry, little one. I’ll make sure you never suffer again. 

Lee Da-Eun. She was the one who took you under her wing; gave you her last name. She’s the reason why you decided to become a detective, too. 

She taught you to read and write; gave you the education you deserved.

She believed in the potential you never fully showed before. 

And when she thought you were ready to partake in a public school, she sent you to one; the best one she could afford. 

Da-Eun sent you to self-defense classes, too. She was scared a kid with an obscure background and social issues could get unfairly teased. She also knew you had gathered anger from all those years of the past, so she wanted to give you a type of catharsis.

You find art it’s cathartic to you, too. It calms you down, disconnects you from the world around you. Da-Eun keeps your drawings on the fridge and also some she’s framed in the living room. She’s proud of you, her son. 

You were healing. You thought your life wasn’t so bad. 

Until the story repeated once more. 

You’re sixteen and on your way home. When you arrive, you notice that the door of the apartment is ajar. Your hand pushes it so it fully opens and you hesitatingly call for her name. There’s no response. You walk further inside and begin to tremble when a trail of blood is found. 

Still, you follow it.

That’s when you find her. 

Eomma, please wake up. You’ll be okay, won’t you?  Eomma---

Death comes to your door once more; you fall to your knees, don’t even realize you bruised them with such harsh knock against the floor. There’s crimson attached to your hands as you attempt to bring her back, but just like your biological mother all those years ago, she doesn’t return. 

She leaves you. Someone takes her away.  Rips her life away from her body. 

Tears begin to flood your eyes, you don’t have the force to call someone for help.  It takes a moment, but someone finds you near her body.  You have blood all over you: Your hair, your cheeks, your neck. 

It almost looks like you’re the culprit, but the man who finds you has the heart to take you to his home before he calls the authorities to take care of what happened at your place. He gets you cleaned up and his wife bursts into tears when seeing you; destroyed and with a blank stare.

They’re Mr. and Mrs. Nam. 

You can’t stay with them for long. The authorities decide to send you to an orphanage. Da-Eun doesn’t leave you empty-handed, though. On her will, everything she owned is under your name. They say that when you turn nineteen years old, you’ll be able to claim it. 

Boo-hoo. You think you have it hard? Everyone here does, idiot.

The orphanage builds part of your character. You construct a tough shell around you and do not let go of it. Friends are few and fights are many. The anger Da-Eun tried to keep at bay is unleashed. You’re irritated, you’re annoyed, you’re miserable. The guards are tired to send you to the Director’s office for the nth time; the other kids are terrified to befriend you. You’re good; you’re good --- but you’re lost, you’re lost. 

You leave the orphanage when you turn nineteen. The money your maternal figure gave you is used for your education. You’re determined to become like her.

So you return to the streets of Seoul; the Nam Family happily offers you a room under their roof. At least, until you’re able to settle down elsewhere. You go to school and help Mr. and Mrs. Nam with their different businesses during your free time.

With Mr. Nam, you become a student at his Taekwondo Studio. Da-Eun would be proud. You’re still a feisty thing, but at least you’re using your mulish behavior to defend yourself better and help others. 

With Mrs. Nam, you help her clean at closing hours and also buy ingredients that go scarce; she makes Bungeoppang, the best in entire Seoul. 

They’re proud of you when you tell them that your efforts paid off: you’ve been offered a full ride scholarship for a college in London. They tell you to take this once in a lifetime opportunity, so you do. 

You’re healing again.

You deserve it, Hyuk. It’s about time you get your wings and fly. Fly away and chase what you wish to do. 

In London, you meet the platonic love of your life, Patrick Myungdae Grace. He’s in the same class as you are and had to ask him for a sharpener with broken English and gestures that got a little out of hand; misinterpreted. It’s funny to think about it, now. 

He understands you like no one else.

The deep connection you thought you’d never have arrives with him. 

He becomes the only one you fully trust in this crooked world. The one you adore unconditionally. 

He’s forever stuck with you --- you promised, and you’re not one to break promises.

Now you’re here, years later. What’s going on with you?

Years later, you graduate and become one of the brightest detectives in Gangnam. Still with sourness in soul, but with a heart that never went bad. 

You find out the truth behind the death of your two mothers.

They were connected by the same culprit: Your father. 

This is how you find out he’s still alive. 

You send him to rot in jail.

 Now you’re in your late thirties; your stubbornness and thirst for justice never died down. Still a feisty thing, you. There’s a sea called Patrick who calms you, though; brings you ease with just the touch of his fingers against your shoulder or his gentle voice, beckoning. In this, it’s obvious you kept in touch with him; he continues to be a very significant part of your life --- you’d do anything for him. 

You still keep in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Nam whenever you can, too; dropping food at the studio for Mr. Nam to have or buying Bungeoppang from Mrs. Nam. They both enjoy your visits and you enjoy seeing them here and there. 

Even though there are parts of you that still feel empty, there are moments where you realize you’re not as alone as you once thought.

You see it in Patrick’s smile.

You see it in the glow of Mrs. Nam’s eyes. 

You see it in the way Mr. Nam laughs when you offer a dry joke.

The world is not so sour after all, even if you tend to be.  Acidic as lemon, but still kind; with a soft heart underneath.  You’ll keep going, as you always have.

If the universe didn’t need you,  you wouldn’t be here.

[gogobebeya]

✨Masterlist✨

Started: March 7, 2022

Last Updated: March 23, 2022

All pics/AUs are my own work. Please don't steal or translate them. Don't post them onto Wattpad or AO3, I only post on Tumblr. I have no other accounts aside from 'gogobebeya'. If you find any of my work anywhere else, please let me know. Thank you!

If you do decide to be a little brat and plagiarize my work, I'll take action - I put a lot of time into writing and I use it as a form of escapism (it may not be healthy but what can you do about it?).

If you'd like to draw inspiration or reference my stories or write something similar (which does not mean plagiarize or copy, aka copy paste and change a few words, or change the names, or places in the story - inspiration, not plagiarism), ask.

Also, I'm new to the whole Tumblr thing (for now), so I'm still figuring out the whole masterlist as well as general layout - patience is key. As of right now, I'm only planning on writing for BTS, but that might change - (as you might be able to tell) I'm a MAMAMOO fan as well and I like K-pop and other various types of music... so we'll see.

© gogobebeya 2022. All rights reserved.

Long story short - no one likes a copycat.

Disclaimer: I don't necessarily endorse/support everything I write about - some scenarios might be disturbing, and if you breeze through the warnings, don't say I didn't tell you so. That being said, fics with smut or various mature themes will be marked. So, double warning.

***

ღ Fluff || ✩ Angst || ❃ Smut/Mature

☘ Currently Writing || ☺ Finished || ⚠ Discontinued || •~• Hiatus

♚ Personal Favorites

***

Updates For My Fics

(updates and release dates... if you're wondering when something is planned to be released next, come here! If something is not up there... then chances are it won't be released for a while - release dates are subject to change often, so check back in if you like!)

***

BTS

Kim Seokjin

Series

➮ ☘ JinHit Entertainment / ღ - ✩ - ❃

(family friends to genuine friends to lovers, arranged marriage, CEO! Seokjin)

❝ Kim Seokjin, the CEO of JinHit Entertainment and the son of the infamous businessman Kim Jinwoo and model Kang Serin, is a family friend of sorts. Though you don't know him that well despite seeing him at various family events through the years, it was safe to say your families were... well, as close as rich families could be. The idea of an arranged marriage was your parents' idea, but when seemingly everyone around you echoes their thoughts - restore reputation and the family names, as well as merge a business or two - will you find love and freedom, or be trapped in a living nightmare with the one person you'd always wanted to run away from it all with?❞

Min Yoongi

*Stay Tuned!*

Jung Hose

Series

➮ ☘ Of Blush Descent / ღ - ✩ - ❃

(friends to lovers, father! Hoseok, slow burn, lots of mutual pining, non-idol! Hoseok)

❝You meet Jung Hoseok in a very random way - rather, you meet his daughter. Of course you know him - the infamous Jung Hoseok, one of the most famous rappers and dancers of the Korean entertainment industry. Even if you weren't a fan, or well-versed on "what the kids are into" - you've heard of him.

Finding yourself now caught in the world of Jung Hoseok, you're left to juggle your career, budding relationship with his daughter who has taken a liking to you, as well as your maybe-there-maybe-not intrusive feelings and thoughts regarding the one and only Hoseok. Too much sunshine, and you get burned. The question really remains - do you want to?❞

Kim Namjoon

Series

➮ ☘ Chronicles of an IDOL / ღ - ✩ - ❃

(idol fic, coworkers to friends to lovers, age gap, idol! Namjoon)

❝You've admired Kim Namjoon for a variety of reasons since the day you debuted. Since then, being an idol has been... harder than you've ever imagined it could be. Between being told what to do, how to act, when to get inspired, when to speak, you're exhausted. When you agree to embark on a seemingly innocent collaboration project with Namjoon, you're shocked at how well you two work together and understand each other - but does the chemistry translate outside of the studio? And if it does... well, what are you supposed to do about that?❞

Park Jimin

*Stay Tuned!*

Kim Taehyung

*Stay Tuned!*

Jeon Jungkook

*Stay Tuned!*

[smugliar]

@mshtix asked ;; ❛  it’s about time you got up.  ❜

"Dman, buongiorno anche a te.." The motel door is unceremoniously shut behind him. He hadn't traveled as a duo in some time. It almost startles him to see Nea sitting outside. He feels on the edge of being comfortable, but some inner itch has him uncertain about the whole thing- probably due to some unresolved conflicts from nearly decades ago.

He often wonders how long this company will last. How much longer he will have another person who understood what haunted their waking lives.

Squinting out into the slowly encroaching sun as noon drew near, Ace pushes up a pair of pink-coloured lenses. He goes to roll his lighter, sparking a flame for the butt of the cigarette hanging between his lips. "You chose to travel with an old-timer, yeah? I like catching my beauty sleep."

A restful night's sleep would've been ideal. Instead, as his mind grew still, looming dread like that creeping fog seeped into his subconscious. It had made its home there, as it did to so many of them he assumed. The screams of all too familiar voices forever clung to the inside of his skull, the scent of thick tacky crimson stained into his skin, and pain...

Ace exhales a slow plume of smoke, wanting to savor that warmth in his chest for just a bit longer. "When the hell did you get up? I didn't take you as an early bird."

[smugliar]

@mauscleum​ asked ;; "All the what-ifs start to haunt you, you know?" -Jonathanz

     Drink soured, Ace rests the rocked glass on his knee, forefinger rubbing against the cup, ice lukewarm. 

     The doctor’s home, despite the expensive and historical trinkets, the wealth of immortality, hangs these conversations that make your gut sink into the floorboards. There is regret hung on the walls, wails caught in your heart. It does not sit well in his head. He doesn’t want to think about this.

     Head falls back on the tufted sofa, trying to savor that last decent sip of whiskey. An aggravated breath leaving his mouth.

       ❝ Look I would love to be your daddy but not in this context, johnny boy. ❞

[smugliar]

𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕪 @sacrisomnia

“Lady Luck tends ta help out when she can, eh?”

Hands toss morning mail onto the coffee table. Mixed up papers, having gotten given about to some other apartment, now in his possession but could wait until later. Early afternoon rays of light are coming into the stuffy living space, and there was much more at stake. 

Quentin still holds youth in his face and pale complexation, but his hands look rougher. Corners of his cheeks more angled than Ace remembers. Dark circles are less visible creasing a smile, a slight flutter of contentment at seeing that time hadn’t been so cruel to the insomniac.

Ace can’t get himself to sit through, rather standing off by the worn love seat beside the sofa. One hand finds his jean pocket, the other rests atop the headrest of the chair. Eyes surveying the ghost seated in his home, ears not tuning into Quentin’s words. 

His body feels like its floating, a dream-like numbness follows the gambler in his wake. It hadn’t faded when first seeing the kid either. Having nearly snapped his own neck at giving the fannel wearing survivor a double-take at the door.  

“I would be lyin’ to ya if I said I hadn’t been wondering about that as well.” Visconti is slow with his words, almost trapped in hearing his own voice for a moment.

“Although you have balls goin’ on the lookout for ‘em. I would give ya some sweet tips an’ tricks as ta where the others are but.... I got nothin’, niño.”

“I don’t wanna know how you found me either. No quiero pensar en eso... Appreciate the visit, really, but I don’t exactly have this place listed, y’know? An’ those who know where I am are... well...” A grumble, and a touch of a forefinger to his brow before looking at Quentin again. Dark eyes taking the old friend in. A long exhale and a raise of brows, smile falling into something of exhaustion before coming to rest his chin in the cup of his palm. 

“Voy a necesitar un trago... What are ya gonna do once ya find us, hm?”

[smugliar]

TEXT MEMES \ accepting!

@nomither​ asked ;                          [ 📲 • sms ] —— stop sending me that wink face.

[TXT: Bastard] : wow [TXT: Bastard] : so i suck your dick + let you ram it in the back yet i can’t send u a little yellow circle that resembles my good looks [TXT: Bastard] : can’t believe u would hate me that much [TXT: Bastard] : im kinda into it 😉

[smugliar]

                                         kiss time // accepting !

                            @miistwalkers asked ;                                ❣ - number 2 for jake pls ;w; some good quality familial smooch

It’s cool. The evenings in the deserts always were. Stuck in Nevada, hills of sand and dirt creating the landscape, glimmering gold as the sun sets off behind eroded mountains.

Ace’s smokey breath looms around the outside of the shitty motel, Park sitting off under the awning within close proximity. They’re out of earshot, voiced hushed among the desert’s cricket orchestra and occasional car ripping down the empty road. 

Jake wasn’t one to talk his heart out but had his moments. The gambler wouldn’t consider himself a therapist or any form of a good support system by any means, but he wouldn’t lie in saying the kids didn’t have some of his empathy. Something, deep deep down under the cards and chips, resonated with Visconti although he not be the one to not admit it aloud.

The mess of dark hair flops down onto an awful printed button-up, Park falling silent. A sling of an arm around the boy’s shoulder, ringed hand ruffling out of control locks, planting a quick peck to the side of his head. A long sigh, Ace leans back more into the shitty bench outside, tossing the remains of his cigarette into the dirt, expelling one last puff.

“Yeah, life sucks your dick dry, niño. Ya learn to live with it though hm? After gettin’ our guts spilled, family still takes the cake for bein’ the biggest kick in the ass but hey, at least ya got us or some sappy bullshit like that.”

[smugliar]

TEXT MEMES \ accepting! @sabotajuu​ asked ;               [ 📲 • sms ] —— stop sending me that wink face.

[TXT: BirdNest] : wink face?😜 [TXT: BirdNest] : I don’t 😜 [TXT: BirdNest] : know what 😜 [TXT: BirdNest] : ur talking about 😜 [TXT: BirdNest] : lol honestly tho I need a pockpicking set

[smugliar]

                                           @buckandwild​ asked ;  ‘ i’d like to stay like this for awhile. ’ (you brought up post-realm shenanigans and here we are.

The afterglow is pleasant, leaving Visconti drowsy in the best way. He’s leaned against the motel’s oak headboard, a relaxed posture whilst laying half under the cheap sheets. He’s overly comfortable basking in the other’s energy. The songbird’s tousled gold hair catches the moody lighting. It looked like honey.

A strange meet up after everything, but the ex-con artist isn’t disappointed nor surprised. Bad habits die hard, the two picking up right where they left off once being tossed out of the Entity’s maw. 

“Puedes decir eso otra vez.” Ace cracks a sloppy grin, at peace with Kate’s sun kisses skin against his side. “Wish we picked up some kinda booze before comin’ here tho eh?”

[smugliar]

post realm headcanons? because I wanna just vomit this somewhere.

Getting out of the realm stirs a change in Ace.

Not only is it a bit odd to be put back into the “normal” world, it brings about anxieties that Ace had ignored or hadn’t thought about in awhile. Having been in the rhythm with surviving, and scavenging in the fog, this return to the normal world brings up those past stresses of those after him for past debts and thefts. Sure, it isn’t some guy with a cleaver but here he can die and stay dead. 

This causes him to, along with PTSD from the realm, gain some anxiety issues. 

Ace dabbles in his old gambling cycle, but only lasts close to a year until he finds himself not getting the same high as he used to before the realms. He’s still good at it, his slight of hand has never been better making it easier to get cash, but something doesn’t feel right about it with his thoughts still swimming with memories of the fog. 

He does still do his shtick sometimes however. Will steal a credit card or two, cheat at some poker and such for extra spending money, but has a job or two hosting gigs around the area to get a consistent money flow. Does gambling as an hobby too, to relax nerves and get his mind to think about other things. 

Above anything he’s lonely. The realm’s survivors provided company for him after years of having been close to no one. Ace has been to himself for most of his life doing con artists like acts, not bothering to get to close to anyone in fear of being found out and such. He was always moving from one place to the next for a fresh start, to bet more. Everyone in the fog were folks he was forced to see everyday and to bond with at some level. Even though he may have been a dick to most of them, it doesn’t mean that they didn’t get to know each other in one way or another. He low key kinda misses them hanging around the fire. 

PTSD is another problem in its self. Night terrors are often and Ace drinks them away or smokes nearly a pack in the dead of night to relax his nerves. Has nearly gotten alcohol poisoning a couple of times due to horrible nights drowning thoughts surrounded with so much death.  Sex is also something he may seek out as more of a comfort now rather than a survival skill. To have another warm body with his and not be alone with his thoughts.

There is also the possibility of getting himself an animal companion ( bird, or cat ) later down the line just to have some form of company. Also the idea of finding a lover/partner would be on his mind as having a permanent s/o doesn’t sound so horrible anymore but isn’t seeking it out all the time.

random headcanons ;

The lady luck tattoo that I have mentioned before as well is completely ruined. It just so happens to be on the shoulder that was hooked over and over again. It badly scarred the inked skin making the creative piece very hard to make out now.

[smugliar]

TEXT MEMES \ accepting! @buckandwild asked ;                 [ 📲 • sms ] —— hey stranger. stop being a stranger.

[TXT: Cowgirl] : oh hey u 😉 [TXT: Cowgirl] :  here too or something [TXT: Cowgirl] :  i wouldn’t have guessed from ur face plastered everywhere [TXT: Cowgirl] :  would sneak backstage to see u but the stage has a large mob of screaming people around it  [TXT: Cowgirl] :  to see who? gosh i have no idea