#ghost.ask

[trollcafe]

all the way dumb

Docs Link  Rip’s bandana gets ripped to shreds. 

Riptid woke with a stretch, reaching behind him for his kismesis. The absence of a body left him bewildered enough to knock the remaining sleepiness out of his system. He froze, listening to the eerie silence of the hive. It was never this quiet. There was always a commotion. The espresso machine, chatter of trolls outside, the sounds of dogs roughhousing, it was never silent like this. He wasted little time getting up and throwing a shirt on, no matter how badly his joints complained today. His pajama pants were just fine for now, he didn’t trust that he could balance on one leg without falling. 

Exiting the bedroom left him more questions than answers. The puppies were crated, napping peacefully, with their owner nowhere to be found. Chowow didn’t usually put the pups in their crates. DogDad was curled up on the couch. Rip’s movement was slow and stiff, his prosthetics still waking up from their own disjointed slumber. He made his way into the kitchen with the intention of waking up the coffee machine. His arm creaked as he reached for a mug. Something over his shoulder caught his eye. A flash of red. 

He froze, hand mere inches from the mug. To the side lay his bandana. Or, what remained of his bandana, settled on top of a note. 

The coffee was quickly abandoned. Riptid gathered what remained of the red bandana in his hands, exhaling a deep sigh. Torn to shreds and slightly damp, clearly the victim of some playful puppies. It was unusable now. Nothing more than scrap fabric. Still, the sinking feeling in his stomach grew deeper. He knew it wasn’t the pups’ fault, nor was it Chow’s. He should’ve put it up somewhere safe. He shouldn’t have let the pups sleep with him and Chow. He should’ve put it in a drawer. He should’ve thrown it out. 

The very thought of throwing it out caused his breath to hitch. Even now, looking down at the mauled remains, considering such a thing felt wrong. With cautious, gentle hands, Riptid brought the bandana to his face. It reeked of cigarettes, regrets, alcohol, weed, dog spit, and roses. There was some sick relief that caused his stomach to twist in knots. It smelled like roses. Like the troll who gave it to him. He remembered her smile, dangerous and sly. She took the bandana out of her own hair, holding it out to him after one of the first Whysteria concerts. 

“We should be pitch.” A voice like milk and honey was hard to refuse. 

“Okay.” Riptid Canuis was never good at saying no. 

Had he even felt pitch for her? He remembered her face, her smile, the way she smelled, the way her tee shirt dress hung off her shoulders, but he couldn’t remember how he really felt, if he felt anything at all. He couldn’t remember when she lost her cool, when her anger consumed her and tore off his leg. When she got bored, and poisoned the other. Why was it so hard to throw it away? Why was there a piece of him that missed her?

The same questions could be asked about Chow. After all, it took a special kind of man to stay with the person who knowingly ruined his life. Rip lowered his hands, cringing at the thought. Maybe there was something wrong with him. On a deep, psychological level, perhaps. A knife twisted in his stomach, and a sigh of acceptance escaped his chest. 

With a heavy heart, Riptid simply set the bandana back on top of the letter. It hurt to think about. He returned to the coffee machine to continue his late awakening. Still, there was a voice in the back of his head. It was angry, a growl, hardly his own voice. As if some omniscient observer was commentating on his feelings. 

He should be angry, it said. The coffee machine whirred to life. He should be pissed, about his legs, his arms, his bandana. The steam was hot as it brewed. He glanced back at the bandana, feeling the knife twist once more. It was more than just a gift from Bubble, wasn’t it? He had tied the red cloth under the strings of his bass. Like a true rockstar, like a grunge musician from the olden days, using a makeshift mute for a smoother tone. It made him feel like a real musician. He hated that the voice was right. 

That bandana was the last shred of his youth he allowed himself to have. He should be angry it was ruined, like he should be angry about his arms, about his bass, about the frustration his friends felt towards him. Riptid’s lip curled in an unwitting snarl. He hated being angry, but in the moment, he hated everything else so much more. His sorrowful gaze melted into a glare, shooting daggers towards the remains of his bandana. This hatred was a festering wound, opened again and again. A boiling point was met. 

Riptid brought the freshly brewed coffee to his lips. Prosthetics can’t feel, you see, but maybe his prosthetic arm had his best interest in mind. The coffee burnt his tongue, and out of his panic, Rip dropped the mug. His train of thought shattered with it. Rip stared at the mess for a few moments before he got to work cleaning it up. Why was he so shaken? 

Picking up shards, he felt…empty. He was just thinking about something, what was it? Whatever it was left a hole in his stomach. It was something important. Something big. He tried to will it back as he swept up the mess, but it eluded him. As Riptid stood in the kitchen once more, the emptiness only grew. 

He looked to the side, staring at his retired bandana. Something about the bandana was missing. There was something more than just being ripped to shreds. Something…important. Something…about Bubble? No, that can’t be it. Or was it? He shook his scattered thoughts away for good. Whatever it was, it was gone. Trying to follow the derailed train just made him feel sick. Maybe memory loss wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, wasn’t it easier to just stay all the way dumb?

#drabbles #ghost.ask #riptid canuis #im not super fond of this if im honest #so be kind #i needed it to happen to progress the plot for rip #but writing just. wasnt my jam today #anyways riptid lore

[sera-wasnever]

kaj happy valentines day!! 🌹

thanks sophie! xx

#ghost.ask

[chowowed]

Hiya! WRA and PM still exist yes, also I had many, many non-math teachers tell me they can't do math when I was in school. Many. Mostly english teachers or art teachers. Do not fear!!

I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS BEFORE WORK

😭😭 GOD i was told by my professors not to tell students that you can’t do or dislike a subject but like??? If i’m going to be showing them that a disabled & queer person can be a teacher i might as well also show them its okay to not be good at math, just gotta try your best

#ghost.ask #HOWEVER I WILL BE POINTING THEM TO WRA AND PM #thank you <3<3 i feel better <3<3

[elkkiel]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers 💜

hello my friend I am late to this but here u go!

my cat wagging her lil tail when I carry her around on my shoulder (happy tail not stressed flicks dw)

those soft grocery store white chocolate macadamia cookies (someone brought a pack of Costco cookies into the offices today and it was wonderful)

homemade mac and cheese, especially when it's baked in a casserole dish with bread cubes + cheese on top 🤤

the songbirds that are starting to come back now that the weather is warming up

getting scheduled with my backroom work besties lol, they're so much fun

#askkiel #long-lost-ghost.ask

[kageyuji]

WAIT YOU HAVE CHILDE AND XIAO??????? ;-;

i have never seen a heart of depths artifact with crit rate so it’s debatable /j

but yeah i do !! xiao was the first i pulled for + i skipped hu tao and venti for chide, but i am now primo broke pls send help

#i would be a zhongli haver too but qiqi ruined my pity #m not that sad about it anymore though she’s actually a good healer #lore.txt #ghost.ask

[bluu-ghost]

if you want,,, you could draw the girl

But of course ... I always want to draw the girl...

#ghost.ask #ghost.art #the girl #sleevesareforlosers #💚

[just-ghost-thoughts]

ok here i am

nice! how was your day?

#ghost.ask

[trollcafe]

habby early birtdoy !!!!!! @cherrytrolls

#ghost.ask #for others #EARLY birtdor present

[trollcafe]

A text.

[Send a stronger one next time, Princess. He was X’ed suuuper easily this time <3]

>You're giggling. Your moirail killed the hitman you sent after her, and you're giggling.

[How disappointing, he seemed so promising. I thought for sure a purpleblood would put up a good fight.]

#WIFE ENRICHMENT #anger management #bubble speaks #ghost.ask

[trollcafe]

6 for Riptid

6. secret

Is it manipulative to keep secrets from your kismesis? The thought crosses your mind briefly, passing as quickly as the streetlights. Speeding through the backroads to said kismesis’ hive.

Are secrets really that bad? He was having another episode. An episode he’d rather die than want you to know existed. Bruuno only texted you when he knew Chow would be spiraling. The fish had his own life, Chow was your mess to handle. He’s the one that opens the door, looking exhausted. He passes the torch to you without a word, slipping by to escape.

Is there such a thing as a good secret? You’re holding Chow in your arms- the arms he gave you- preventing him from hurting himself. The look in his eyes tells you this isn’t your kismesis you’re dealing with. He doesn’t even know you’re there. He mutters words, things that sound morbid. Bruuno said it was scripture once. It sounded more like curses.

You don’t like keeping secrets. Tomorrow, Chowow will wake up in your arms, not remembering a thing. He will continue on, teasing you, while you remain exhausted from the struggle of keeping him safe. Tomorrow, you’ll go to your first job, and have to pretend you’re oblivious to your friend’s feelings towards you, to keep her from being hurt, despite the discomfort it gives you. Tomorrow, you’ll go to your second job, you’ll move equipment around, and you’ll stay behind after the concert. You’ll lie, say you stayed late with coworkers. You’ll keep your flush feelings a secret, like you keep your sexuality, like you keep your memories, like you keep your emotions.

#chowow #riptid #riptid canuis #ghost.ask #drabbles

[trollcafe]

Collyn! How's it hangin bud

"It's hangin'."

#ghost.ask #postit note smile my beloved #collyn speaks

[trollcafe]

MAYO IS FUCKING KILLING ME. HELP

He really genuinely does look like a dog who would be named Mayonnaise!

#ghost.ask #mayonnaise #SO HARD TO TAKE PICS OF HIM BECUSE HE MOVES SO MUCH

[trollcafe]

Mmmm yesss more pretty fish make brain go brrrr

I AM A SIMPLE MAN, GAY FOR FISH also i need the world to appreciate the fucking tattoos. yes the barbed wire sucks but look at the pretty wicker pattern hehehe

#ghost.ask #this is NOT him speaking bee tee dubs this is me speaking #and granting u handsome shirtless feesh

[trollcafe]

its a follow just for being a man tit connoisseur i love someone of taste

what can I say except...I'm gay :)c

#ghost.art #ghost.ask #returns from hiatus to post Liam Mantit Complication #ft some guest stars

[trollcafe]

Jawska! My man. What's up

"Apparently shifters like, shift and stuff not just during full moons but also with big emotions. And not just anger."

"I found a bag of microwave rice I had hidden ages ago the other day, and got way too excited over it. Then, I couldn't shift back, because I was too sad over not having hands to microwave the rice with. I was almost desperate enough to call for help...but looking back, what could I have done? Fucking, bark at my phone?"

#jawska speaks #ghost.ask

[trollcafe]

Bruuno show Nebby

"My Nebby?? Nebula? Nebs? This Nebby?? Nah baby you don't want 'er. She stinks."

#ghost.ask #bruuno speaks #GIANT MAN AND HIS GIANT DOGG #for reference uhh #nebby is 6'4 on her hind legs #roughly #bruuno is 8'4