#ryuicefox

Nah not really.

Cards can only talk by repeating others, so unless someone is chanting “Hail Santa” it won’t happen.

JOHN KEATS.      the lavender in sunsets,  flowers in the rain,  sunlight slipping through clouds,  lazy summer afternoons,  the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books,  fireflies on a cool summer night,  being wrapped in fresh bedsheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have,  dripping sunlight like gold,  loving someone so exquisite,  soft lips and soft whispers,  fingers through hair,  names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD.    mahogany wood,  crisp winter skies with cold bright stars,  the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog,  empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness,  cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol,  a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered,  a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day,  the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment,  your favourite sweater,  parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow,  a purple split lip oozing blood,  black eyes fading to blue to pale skin,  the butterflies of falling in love for the first time,  the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries,  the romanticization of self-destruction

FRANZ KAFKA.       the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future,  decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there,  the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist,  ghosts filling lungs,  shattered bones,  raindrops on the tongue,  rusting metal,  nostalgia that aches,  the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head

H.P. LOVECRAFT.     the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark,  thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean,  the silence of three a.m.,  danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house,  the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain,  unexplainable phenomena,  strange lights in the sky in the dead of night,  ouija boards and urban legends

JACK KEROUAC.     the brisk pine air of being on a mountain,  travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory,  screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night,  car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark,  naps spent in the sun,  novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins,  the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders,  ignoring flaws and loving life,  wind through hair,  depression as fog in the brain,  impossible ideals,  a quiet sunrise,  walks alone,  when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe,  dazzling people,  open lands stretching out into infinity,  falling in love with being alive

EDGAR ALLAN POE.      the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog,  hollow bones,  a preserved heart held in hands,  twinkling stars above an old graveyard,  the way everything turns to dust,  silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom,  self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart,  lips barely brushing against each other,  glassy glazed eyes,  biting into a lemon,  heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining,  the intimacy of a secret

Aw that is so sweet <3 but I, Wade Wilson-Parker, am already committed to the cutest arachnid on Earth ;)

Send 🌺 to hear what my muse likes about yours

Hearts seems ok so far, though we’ve only just met (and I haven’t told him my real name and I definitely won’t be admitting I’m Legion...)

(Starting something)

The air was no different there the days before but feeling dizzy dirty and tired. Dust of the cracking ground the smell of a fired gun in the air. Free side was a fairly welcoming place. With all the sounds of music and shouting people not too fair off the strip.

There we’re Kings, Thugs, NCR free loaders, and the mix of faces and races. Hearts was looking for anything to do for a few caps for at least a goods night rest. One night will do even for a few days. Knowing the old Mormon fort would gladly see him a bed for a few nights. He wanted his bed and our space for even a few hours of the day or night.

Heading to the Strip he was stopped briefly by the Robotic Guards. Now how would he get a pretty descent job. The Kings guarded around free side and he didn’t want to step on feet with people he had no beef with. Nor wanted any bad viewing from the King himself. But looking at the fully loaded armored tin cans before him. The thought of stepping on feet looked fair more pleasing then going in to a bear headed fight tired. Too tired and wishing someone would just show. 

Alexus smoothed out the Profligate clothing as he walked. Though he appeared nothing like a warrior in it, that was all for the best– And in any case: he liked the neatness of the suit.

As he neared the gate, he fixed his hat and grinned upon seeing the casino buildings looming beyond the fence. Just a little farther… Looking down to pull out the passport Phoibe had given him, the disguised decanus was lost in thoughts and daydreams of what was to come. When he looked up again, he was surprised to see someone standing outside the entrance to the Strip as if waiting for something.

"With all due respect, I think there’s a small misunderstanding here! Why wouldn’t I want to answer any questions? I was programmed to answer any and all questions I’m asked, after all!