#f2f;rogue

[cairhienin]

Get to know me!

Thanks @wheelwheelwheel 🫶🏽

Three ships: Moiraine/Siuan (Wheel of Time), Lottie/Nat (Yellowjackets), Kevin/Nora (The Leftovers)

First ever ship: oh god it was probably Rachel/Quinn (Glee)

Last song: F2F by SZA

Last movie: The Little Mermaid

Currently reading: Path of Daggers by Robert Jordan

Currently consuming: water

Currently craving: scallion pancake

Tagging @ephemeral-winter @amyrlinegwene @rogue-rook @chasingfictions and anyone else who wants to! (no pressure 🤪)

#about me #spilling some deep dark secrets here

[prjectx10]

Turns out that if you wandered long enough around the Mousehole, you would eventually get lost and that was Logan’s current impediment until a familiar scent hit his nose, he followed that until he came upon her. It took his brain a minute to catch up but there was no mistaking who she was from hair like that. “Aren’t you supposed to be safe in Genosha, kid?” He piped up. “Making my job more difficult than it needs to be.” @glovedanddangerous​

#f2f;rogue

[miserableversed]

“Do you know me?” (can't go on anon, so. anyways. @impulsitiviity)

TOTHEARK

@impulsitiviity

Blank eyes filled with nothing but blue stare past Chris, no focus to them. But what is there to focus on? They don’t know where they are. They feel as though they’ve been here their whole life, sitting in silence, waiting for Havin to drag them back... 

Was it weird to call that place home?

Chris is given no answer right away, they don’t seem to be quite present enough to give one, curled in on themself, shoulders tense. They are hardly dressed for a New Jersey winter, a baseball cap, sweatshirt and leggings aren’t going to be enough to keep one warm. Not to mention that, while they have on socks, they don’t have on any shoes. 

Wearily, they tilt their head slightly so Chris knows they’re looking at him. Their lips are cracked and bloody, though under that, maybe he can see that like the tips of their ears, they’re blue. So are the tips of their fingers. They don’t quire understand what he’s asking but. 

Ah. The camera. They have it held tight in their right hand. They very, very vaguely recognize him as someone who might have once been involved in TribeTwelve? Or at least knew Noah? But they couldn’t come up with a name, for either him or his series. 

No answer is given. Only a tired, blank stare.

#[lmao OOPS WELL ANON IS ON NOW RIP]] #impulsitiviity #rogue-gods #;sacred stars won't be guiding you / amiss f2f

[erickaholloway]

[ PRIVATE F2F ]

She arrived late. A part of her wanted to believe that making Presley wait longer than necessary for her punishment was the reason, but another part of her was scared... scared that this wouldn’t give her the satisfaction she wanted. Needed. Her life was hell at Carden, but not as hellish as the past several years of her life. At Carden, she had the freedom to fight. And fight she will. She could count how many people believed her on one hand and still have fingers left balled into a fist. It was her destiny to stand alone. But at least now she could stand. 

Thierry’s blessing for revenge was the most support she’s received in her adult life. She thought about it often, when she heard the word “liar” directed at her for the umpteenth time. She kept Thierry’s words close to her like a blanket. That was the benefit to being alone and mistreated for so long. Some things that others took for granted held so much power with her. 

Ericka strutted across the path to the west area of the grounds and took up a whip, now confident with it in her hand after her lesson with the Devereaux leader. Even as a witch servant to the rogue pack, she could never act out her fantasies of killing as many of them as she could in their sleep. It felt wrong, even after all the pain and torture she was put through. That sense of morality and eventually, the fucked-up sense of loyalty kept her with them for so long. The scars on her back, her legs, her stomach, all stung at the sight of the whip and its potential. She never did get to hurt the rogue wolves, but hurting this wolf? It came easily. Almost too easily. Something changed. 

Ericka stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, the handle of the whip in her hand. She let go of the tail part for it to fall to the ground. She looked to Presley, her nostrils flaring. This has to be it. I’m so tired. “Shirt off.”

#c: presley