#faithbound

“I think that guy jus’ broke his fuckin’ jaw.”

He has to contain his ability to keep a straight face considering bars were always so amusing to go to.

You’ve all suffered with me. Thank you! I’m so grateful to have made so many new friends in such a short time and I love you all so much!!

Bold = Sin squad Italics = I’m stalking you

@oblitusxxpuella​ ❀ @whiteliily​ ❀ @dojiikko​ ❀ @atelouus​ ❀ @awadatsu​​ ❀ @idolspurgatory/ @bottledlies​ ❀ @likecottxncandy​ ❀ @rxindrcps​ / @cxndiidoll​ ❀ @mythologicalidiots​ ❀ @siqophant​ ❀ @fadingnxte​ ❀ @faithbound​ ❀ @fluera​ ❀ @fiercysoul​ ❀ @nyanum​ ❀ @reincarnatum​ ❀ @abusedpurity​ ❀ @aceprinccss​ ❀ @malintxntions​ ❀ @maskmade​ ❀ @blithened​ ❀ @backstagebaae​ ❀ @cogal​ ❀ @badmediicine​ ❀ @dohoshu​ ❀ @hostdevil​ ❀ @minugahanax​ ❀ @poppicede​ ❀ @vernxte​ ❀ @forgottcnsoul​ ❀ @liecaught​ ❀ @trashycai​ ❀ @duendx

Send for a roleplaying pet peeve.

                   Ship hoarders is a huge one for me. Don't get me wrong, I love shipping myself! It's amazing. What I mean are the ones  who write in their rules that they are "selective" and "work from chemistry" yet they immediately jump on the ship wagon as soon as they can and you're lucky to find an interaction that doesn't have them shipping. I've had a number of instances in which I've plotted friendships with other muns and within two replies their muse suddenly has a crush and this detailed heartache for my muse? How the hell did that happen? Not only does it make me uncomfortable (especially since alot of people have a way of making you feel guilty if you don't wanna ship), my muse is immediately pushed away because they are uncomfortable now hence why these interactions tend to immediately die. It takes time for relationships to develop just like in real life and it takes getting to know one another. Yes, even when plotted. Unless a romantic plot is spoken of then it's just not right in my mind to immediately go down the romantic route. Let things flow, see how they develop.

     A ‘ flamingo ‘ theme had followed Doflamingo his entire life. Not surprisingly, when he was born with THAT name. Very early on, he had learned to own it, rather than feel insecure about what people might think. That was why his clothes held pink details, and he would often walk around in a pink feather coat. He’d turned the eccentric manner of his name into something that made people respect him. If HE wasn’t ashamed of it, then it would be impossible for anyone to make jokes about it. Because of his name being associated with flamingos, he had always liked the birds --- Well, bird in general. It seemed only right then, that when he could afford it, he would buy his own aviary. It was no small thing either. People would sometimes mistake the structure for a zoo, but, in reality - it was all Doflamingo’s private property. His plan was to build up an impressive collection of birds. Some rich people bought expensive cars, some bought paintings, and Doflamingo - he bought birds.

     A few days ago, six american flamingos had been delivered to his aviary. He’d already been to see them, to make sure they were being taken good care of, and were thriving. Everything had looked good, and so, he wanted to invite someone over to look at them. And, who better than the charming, young man who had been so eager to tell him about flamingos the last time they had spoken? They hadn’t even been introduced, but Doflamingo strongly believed the man would turn down the offer. Really, he had no agenda with this. He simply wanted to show off the birds to someone who would appreciate them as much as himself.

     a sniffle,  and her hand raised to wipe her face,  wishing to be as       presentable     as possible regardless of how she was   turned away    at the moment.

     a small laugh,  barely heard and yet prominent in the silence that fell over them both  —  not that there was much talk before this.   she could hear the people walking by,  and she just imagined their     stares    even as she tried not to burst out in tears again.

     weekdays after nine until lunch, then after lunch to three, those were the quietest moments in the otherwise popular & crowded bakery. the few chairs scattered around round tables were only occupied when it came to college students or aspiring writers with their laptops, tapping away, filling the room with sounds that reminded of rain, even though the grey autumn sky outside was letting out no downpour yet. steff was taking care of these particular hours on their own ; it saved them a lot of money.      to appear occupied, steff started to bring out a rag & began cleaning the tables before the busy hours would return, once children & adults were off the clock & needed something sweet in their system to survive the rest of the day back in their normal lives. the wiping was rather theraputic ; steff always had the same pattern they used, from right to left, up to down, as they gathered the remains of crumbs or rubbed coffee stains of the surfaces. always the same routine. they ignored the few tables that were occupied, or--- had in mind to do so, at least. the plan quickly changed when the redhead’s eyes saw something, like they were nothing but a magpie flying over something shiny on the ground. the store owner would recognize that symbol anywhere.      with a gentle smile on top of their pale visage, as well as the rag in their hand, steff waved gently as a means to get the other’s attention. their chest quickly turned soft & warm, thinking that perhaps the flag outside had made someone like them come to this place.      “ i’m sorry to bother you... i just...~ i really love your necklace. it’s beautiful. “