#/you don't have to match this length lol

[reddragon-cowboy]

@the27percent | Sentence starters

The dull sound of a bell dings when the door of the bar opens and closes behind the fluffy-haired figure, his posture seemingly lax in the way his shoulders were brought forward in a ‘ cool ’ slouching stance with his hands stuffed in his pockets and unbothered countenance. In his movements offered a blithe impression of being unhurried with his time as he fumbled around in his pocket, indexes plucking a cigarette out the pack while long legs stepped off to the side of the building he exited prior. And with the stick of the cig dangling from his lips, lightly pinched between his fingers as he held the lighter close to the tip –brown eyes caught an orange glow in their wry depths as they watch the small flame lick and dance around the tip in its illuminate warmth, surrounding it like an ornament.

Three hours earlier, the Bebop recently nabbed a bounty ( a weasel of a hacker who gave the I.S.S.P a run for their money) their value worth seven million woolongs, which wasn’t a bad gig to say the least in comparison to what the hunters normally would catch. The crew had their own personalized way of utilizing their long hard reward they’ve rightly earned, and even with less casualties in their quick work as a bonus, there was an absence of expenses to cover for property damage this time around. Spike spent his night on a date with a couple of tall drinks pressed to his lips and swam his way up against some guppies through a few rounds of pool, garnering extra bucks from competitors whose big mouths talked up a big game only to end up reluctantly feeding his cashcard. It was a time to ease his mind a bit and melt the tension off his shoulders of the day that’s now disappeared over the horizon of the port city of Marvis.

His sharp eyebrows rested low and drew closer where a crinkle emerged in between. Smoke entwined itself into the air as eyes fell shut, taking a deep breath as he dropped his hands within the comfort of pants pockets and pressed his back against the brick-walled gin mill. He pried a single, bourbon eye open to gaze out at the waterscape. The waves tonight seemed brim full of life, ever moving, flowing, tickled by the breeze that caressed over the sea as its closest moon shared its gentle glow down upon the inhabitants of the city. It was a pleasant, serene view, a nice spot for a bar situated beside a pier where consumers could idle around to appreciate the silent calm the sea could enrich its admirers. A humble follower of the teachings of Bruce Lee seemed to have that effect on the former young yakuza, as Spike took a moment to inhale through his nostrils the pleasurable, gratifying scent of sea spray fresh directly from the source, enriches the flavor of nicotine that entered his system initiated by the pull of his first puff of smoke. The view before him suddenly fell dark when the same eye closed to its surroundings, and once more does pursed lips take a long drag of the cigarette in hand, faintly tuning out the heavy footsteps of patrons entering and exiting the pub accompanied by the ding of a bell atop the door.

Enshrouded within the midst of the symphony of oceanic waves the wind carried on its journey, a voice nearby caught his ear that drifted along on its merry way.

“I also don’t belong on this planet. I also am alone.”

Slowly, an eye slightly opened inspired of a curious nature, and with a small shift of his head follows to search for the owner that spoke words that verged on subjective thought, catching a glimpse of a figure standing upright against the brick surface a few feet away from the hunter. There was something forlorn - he noted. Tragic in the breath they emitted in their stillness, which he observed seemed laced in the expressions the stranger uttered, although what provoked such declarations of their position in the first place remained uncertain to him.

He blinks before setting his gaze on the ground, proceeds to exhale the plume of smoke he has been holding since he first displayed visible acknowledged of the lone figure. What’s their story…he mused as he casually scuffed the bottom of his boot against the concrete.

❝ Iss’a real shame….one of life’s biggest tragedies… ❞ The cowboy makes his attention known, his lips dry where they conform around the stick with every syllable as it hangs languidly from his mouth. Suppose he happened to be in the mood for a little gab every once in a while during his bounty hunting ventures, and he assumed based on what was left in the air, this foreigner was flying solo all on their lonesome. And that long-familiar presence of loneliness was no stranger to the bounty hunter. ❝ Or so they say…huh? ❞

[pruenakamura]

closed starter for @reneexthompsxn locations: vinyl fantasy -> cedar grill & lounge

Prue had barely started the radio show for the evening when people already started calling in. She always felt that she go more callers closer to the holidays than any other time as they were all looking for advice. While she wasn't an advice radio dj, she did help as best as she could; even if she was sarcastic the entire time, especially if the questions were dumb to her. Since the event in September, though, she had been more melancholy about everything. Having things switch so fast with Renee was hard and she kept questioning if she should declare her love or not. All she needed was a sign.

She was about to start a song and was introducing it over the station when the phone rang and she looked at it. "You know what? First we're going to take this call." She clicked the button for the call to go through and she leaned back in her chair. "You're on with Radio Pulse. This is Prue. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Prue. I wanted to ask your advice on something." The voice on the other end said. "I had a sense about it since you called, but go ahead." She told them and swung her chair from side to side. "There's this girl I really like and we kissed a few weeks ago, but..." She could hear the hesitation in their voice and Prue's heart picked up as she sat straighter. "I don't know. Everything had been weird since then. We barely talk, there's so much tension in the air. I just don't know what I should do. Should I talk to her? Should I wait for her to talk to me?" The person sighed. "What do you think I should do?"

Normally, she probably would've been more forward about the whole thing. Tell them to be brave and tell the person how they felt. She would be a hypocrite and maybe she still was, but she had other things to say now as she was in the same position. "Tell her." She said into the mic. She felt like her heart was beating now against her chest and her hands were getting a little sweaty. "You have to tell her or you'll go on for years wondering what would've happened if you just said it." There was a pause and the person started talking again. "How do I just tell her? And what if she doesn't feel it back? What if I ruin our friendship?"

"Do it now. Go to her. Wherever she is, go there and tell her everything." Her heart was racing and now she felt like she was talking to herself more than the person on the phone. "Forget about what will happen if she doesn't feel it back. If she doesn't, you both will find a way to still be friends if your friendship is that strong. Anything is better than going another moment without telling the person you love that the feelings are there." Prue was feeling antsy and she stood from the chair. "Just go. Go do it before you lose this courage and won't be able to do it again."

"Okay. Okay I will. Thank you." The call ended and all she could do was look around. "Guys, I'm going to start music and when we come back, you're going to be in the capable hands of my co-worker, Brian." She said and looked through the window of the radio station to Brian looking in and shaking his head. "Everyone please be kind to him and if you have someone you need to tell anything to, go do it. I gotta go do the same." She said and started a song before leaving the booth and looking at Brian. "I have to go. All you have to do is continue the playlist and click the button for commercials in thirty minutes. It's marked." And with that, she took off out of the building and to her car so she could drive to Cedar Grill.

It felt like forever before she finally showed up at the restaurant where her best friend worked and she parked the car before slamming the door as she got out. She still felt like she was on vibrate as her heart raced and she was anxious. Opening the door to the restaurant, she burst in there with all eyes on her which caused her to stop and look through the sea of people until she found Renee standing there. This was it. This was her chance to say what she needed to say.

[mad-hunts]

jokethur asked: ❝ that's not the worst thing i've ever heard but it's certainly up there. ❞

one might argue that the way barton huffed through his nostrils in a wry sense of disbelief at what he heard come out of the other's mouth, rather than at the terrible thing that was just said through his own lips without an ounce of shame, told you everything you needed to know about him; that he was a brutal and very unfeeling person. but honestly, even if those things were the least bit true, barton thought... he was only saying what everyone would be thinking in their heads if they knew what was really going on behind the scenes. they just wouldn't want to say it aloud for one reason or another, whether that was due to the fear of being ostracized by their peers, or frowned down upon by society as a whole. kind of like how he was currently by the man standing beside him.

barton took a long drag out of his cigarette and averted his gaze from one of the big, bright displays that decorated the skyline to meet the others eyes. the displays were showcasing what looked like the latest news: and that was what barton seemingly was making a comment on, as the death of a cop that was rather infamous for being a ' pinnacle of kindness and care to their community ' was the main headline for that day. except that man was everything but in reality. it was just so rich to be seeing him regarded as some fantastic guy, when barton knew for a fact that he was a sleazeball who he had seen hanging around his old boss, as he was secretly in their pocket and doing their dirty work. and if there was one person that barton held contempt for more than anything... it was the man who used to treat him like he was something less than human. or, less than dirt, actually.

but of course, barton would never tell the gcpd of his corruption because he knew that rainer (you have to put a face to the name for these people) would realize that it was him who'd sold him out. and besides... since when did he have faith in the gcpd, or even like the police? they were all a bunch of pigs to him. so, barton let him continue on with his little game of playing the role of the well-beloved police officer while he was helping people get killed on the side. he rolled his eyes then, ❝ well, if i had known that you were such a big fan of the police, then i likely wouldn't have said anything. but i rest my case: a lot of people do deserve to die, stranger, and he was one of them. so i don't feel sorry for him or his family at all. ❞

barton stated this all in a very matter-of-fact manner, blowing smoke out through his nose from his cigarette before he continued, ❝ i mean, where was this guy if he was so good whenever the city got flooded? i didn't see him among the people who were helping other's whenever everything went to shit. in fact, i bet he was probably sitting in some place really safe and warm whenever it happened, because i knew the real kind of person that he was. a total prick who certainly wasn't the golden boy that the news is trying to make him out to be, ❞ he flicked his cigarette down on the ground and smushed it underneath his boot, successfully putting out the fire on its other end. barton turned to face arthur completely with an unamused look in his eyes.

❝ now, are you done preaching to me about how wrong it is that i said that? you don't really know the first thing about the pig after all. but i do. though you didn't hear that from me, alright? ❞

[sookiestackhcuse]

Sookie used to beg Gran to take her out of public school and homeschool her, but they just didn't have the means to do that. Besides, Jason always stuck his nose where it didn't belong and told her that she just had to get through the last few years of high school and then she'd be free to do whatever she wanted to, even if that meant becoming a hermit living in isolation away from people and their endless thoughts. He was joking of course, like any older brother would do, except he was doing it with a telepath, an ability he didn't fully understand. Nobody did and that was the problem. Sookie was alone.

She tried not to call attention to herself in school but it was hard for her. They'd already tried diagnosing her with ADHD a few times and she didn't really blame them. It wasn't like she could tell them the reason she couldn't focus during school wasn't because she had a small attention span but it was because she couldn't stop hearing everyone's thoughts all day long. Every little bit of concentration she used to block them out meant not being able to concentrate on anything else, like schoolwork, but the teachers were always impressed that she aced her homework. Strange.

Shuffling hurriedly from the busy hallways of the high school, she was just trying to get away from the thoughts that felt particularly loud today. An exit door was in her line of sight, just needing some fresh air, and if she decided to skip her last class, would anyone really blame her? Would they even miss her? Right as she was about to reach out for the door herself, someone else was about to push it open, too.

Scott McCall, a familiar face. Well — of course she knew who he was considering they went to the same school together, but they'd briefly talked here and there. Nothing extensively. She doubted he'd even call her a friend, just some weird girl he knew from school if anything. Before they could run into each other trying to get the door, she laughed it off and said, ❝ Go ahead, you first. Heading to practice? ❞

✞ ───── @kindofuneven gets a starter !

[intcthatgoodnight]

@rh4egar

A shiver ran up her spine the moment she entered the room, like static electricity that made the hair on the back of her neck stand. It could be nerves. She was nervous. Lee wasn’t supposed to be here. Technically, Lee was off the case. She was too involved now, herself a witness, her mother an accomplice. Just being here could cost her her job, but then again, Lee was surprised she still had her job, even if she had been put on leave.

Rhaegar Gaunt was a witness who had only recently come forward claiming to have seen a pale man matching Kobble's description near one of the crime scenes. With Kobble dead, it shouldn't really matter. But Lee needed to know. It was why she was here when she shouldn’t be. She needed to know everything she could, about Kobble, what he did, what her mother did, why - anything she could find out. Her whole life had been uprooted, her own memories called into question. And so, even if it cost her what little she had left, she had to know.

“Mr. Gaunt, thank you for speaking with me.” she spoke politely in an even tone. Her gaze was locked somewhere near his shoulder. Despite how much she tried to seem professional and sure of herself, eye contact still evaded her. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

[insertpinkchiphere]

@dragvnsovl liked for a starter!

Lambda shifts. And shifts again. Perhaps out of a bit of discomfort, mostly due to feeling like his insides are itchy. Not in a bad way per say, but it's the kind of itch he got whenever he thought something was a good idea only to realize that he was way too embarrassed to actually go through with something. Usually, he'd go home and decompress while sighing in relief that he didn't go through with something that was odd to him and him alone.

This was an exception. Him forcing himself out of his comfort zone and it's landed him here. Sitting on a couch with his own hand resting on the cushion below, waiting on Yamcha to get done with something. He hadn't paid much attention. He was too busy thinking about other things at the time. Though he supposed if there was someone to go with, Yamcha wasn't a bad choice. He'd spoken to him a few times and he thought he was perfectly pleasant to be around. Lambda moves in his seat again. How on Earth did other men put up with this? Was it supposed to be this annoying?

Sharp hearing catches the sound of footsteps coming towards the room he was in, his head lifting up. "Oh hey, you...." A pause. He'd never caught his name. Shit. "You!" A nervous smile follows soon after. Real smooth, Lambda.

[nobuverse]

@midnightactual ll Plotted

It had been a routine mission at first, one Nobunaga and many other servants with the skill of Independent Action would often undertake. Davinci's sensors had located a holy grail replica, somewhere in the reaches of time. A singularity, as they called -it a breach so grand in the timeline of history that it threatened the very reality they were trying to restore.

Nobunaga's inherit powers as an archer allowed her to stay manifested for around two days without her master around, but they never dared send her out for more than a few hours to scout ahead without Ritsuka, and only when the threat to reality was considered rather minor - the type of thing that would barely require an effort to fix. As faint as the signal was that the staff achieved, they didn't disturb the young mage's sleep to mention the situation. They'd report to him in the morning, everyone figured, after Nobunaga's return report.

The coordinates are set for somewhere in Japan, sometime after 2016. Close to the time period they had wrongly labeled as "The final singularity". Simple. Easy, even.

But something goes wrong. Drastically so. The servant could knew it before she had even finished rayshifting to the coordinates. A blinding, searing pain shot across her nerves; like all her mana circuits had been fried at once. It ends as quickly as it starts. She stumbles out of the coffin with a gasp as the thing slowly dissolves from the world. She attempts to contact Davinci back on the ship, but gets nothing but static in her communicator. Useless.

Although she didn't feel any pain, it somehow felt as though she was missing a part of her- like a limb had detached itself without warning. Regardless, she figured the best thing she could do at the moment was simply get on with the mission that had been assigned to her, if for nothing else than a distraction.

She decides to begin in spirit form, walking in the space between the physical and ethereal planes. Though she can't interact with anything around her, she can at least take a good view of the city without drawing attention to herself. She finds nothing unusual, much to her dismay, but a thriving city. Certainly, one with its fair share of some less than appealing areas, but nothing that could explain what had peaked the interest of the radar. She would have usual taken the time to revel in the modern marvels far outside her time period, but she can't focus now. That uneasy feeling of anxiety was only growing stronger and stronger.

She materializes back into the physicals realm a few hours later. Thankfully, she was able to get a hold of Chaldea this time. But, as expected, the news isn't good. She's ended up no where near where she's supposed to- in another universe, entirely, even. It was one that ran parallel to that of their own - not interfering with their timeline at all. It means she can't simply rayshift back, it'll take a long time to get her back. Then, comes the worst news of all: her contract's been severed. She's lost her connection to her master- her source of mana. Though they'll try everything they can to save her, it's unlikely to happen within the span of two days. It's suggested she stay in spirit form to conserve the mana she has left.

-----

Two days come and pass, although it seems like an enteral wait. It's through either determination or sheer luck that she's managed to live this long, hoping to be reunited with her loved ones on board the ship: her wife. her brother. her best friend. her niece.

----

It's in a vain attempt to distract herself, spirit wandering from one rooftop to another, that she sees it for the first time. This shadow, a presence unlike any she's ever seen dragging its lumbering feet through the city gravel. It's half the size of an average house, figure both human and distinctly inhuman all at once. A large hole in its chest, gnashing teeth behind an ugly mask.

Nobunaga's first thought is how incredible it is that no one's reacting to its presence: only the destruction it accidently causes as it moves along. This beast was moving along unseen, overturning sidewalks and bending light posts.

She wants to reveal herself, but can't. She's been warned that if she manifests in her physical form again, there wouldn't be enough mana in her left to turn back - and she'd drain away her reserves before the end of the day.

Foolishly, she follows it. Even though she knows her time in Chaldea has made her soft, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to stand by if it went after a human life.

The result is predictable, in hindsight. When the mangy creature reaches for a teenage boy, sleeping on a bench in the middle of the summer afternoon, she breaks. Feet hit the roof tiles with a clatter as she manifests, a wave of her hand summons a matchlock rifle, and she fires. It roars as the bullet goes through its shoulder, the teenage boy awoken by the sound of the gunshot. Her rifle falls, sliding down the roof as it dissipates again. She focus on running now to lead it away, manifesting another between two houses, just enough to allow her to jump the gap. Her communicator has to be turned off, as it's already started annoying her ceaselessly. ( No doubt with Davinci and Sherlock screaming at her from the other side. )

She sprints as the beast runs after, leaving debris in its wake as it tries and fails to reach for her. Her only thought is getting it away from the general population, into an empty, open soccer field she had noted earlier.

Her landing is anything but graceful. She stumbles, almost falls. She decides to conjure one last loaded rifle, into her arms this time. She aims, and fires just in time as the white mask comes only a few meters from her. Blood splatters on her face as it falls, hopefully for good.

" Freak." She muttered, spitting at the ground. She had to get one last insult in before she collapses to her knees. Exhausted, but also not gone yet.

In a few hours time, though, that would change.

[hcnayun]

— characters: hana & sophia — setting: bonfire bash in bighorn hills — partner: @sophramirxz

Although her setup was more glamping than a tent, Hana was all setup, and none of it had been done on her own. It felt good and a little less awkward to give Khalil his space back. At least for a while.

Which included the woman across the hall.

It hadn't surprised the former model that her distant (and one of her most damaging) memory had well moved on with his life, not a single look back. Hana wasn't sure she would either if she had a girlfriend as gorgeous as Sophia. Though, the yoga instructor wasn't sure if there was a title, she simple assumed.

"If you two want to take my tent, that's fine," Hana offered, gesturing to the impressive setup. "The least I could do," there was a pause as her dark eyes searched those of Sophia's, "you know?"

Amongst the attendees she stood out like a sore thumb. One thing is not like the others. It didn't help that Hana wasn't at the top of her social game, still feeling jarred by the increase in harassment, with her gaze traveling about the entire scene like someone who felt watched.

Unsure how much Khalil had told Sophia, the words jumped right out of her, "it wasn't my idea, you know? I said no like three times."

[ofsteelnfyre]

location⸻  red keep : random hallway starring⸻  king lannister ( @cscensionism )

sleep  alluded  him,  even  after  a  long  day  at  the  hunt.  the  familiar  soreness  of  muscles  not  used  to  the  strenuous  riding  that  is  required  for  a  day  of  the  hunt.   thon  felt  confident  that  after  a  hot  meal  and  warm  bath⸻  sleep  would  find  him  rather  quickly.  it  was  hours  later,  wide - eyes  on  the  ceiling  of  his  chambers  in  their  section  of  the  red  keep.  urrathon  pulled  himself  from  his  bed.  now  roaming  the  halls  late  in  the  night.  with  only  a  few  lit  lanterns  illuminating  the  path  he  was  on.  a  part  of  him  was  ready  to  be  done  with  this  whole  venture.  avoiding  kings  landing  was  easier  to  do  when  no  command  is  attached  too  it.   but  when  the  king's  command  was  sent.  thon  felt  the  pit  of  his  stomach  fall.  how  long  has  it  been  since  their  last  dalliance?  probably  before  his  marriage.  time  seemed  to  blend  together  outside  of  his  presence.  it's  easier  to  forget  now⸻  now  his  presence  could  be  felt  no  matter  where  he  was.  he  could  feel  eyes  on  him.   could  feel  a  part  of  him  longing  for  it. 

he  was  mad  to  be  sure,  to  feel  what  he  felt⸻  feelings  he  never  spoke  aloud  to  anyone.  not  even  himself.  because  it  would  be  the  end  of  him.  would  be  the  end  of  everything  he  put  so  much  effort  towards.    looking  up  now  he  caught  the  visage  of  the  man  he'd  done  so  well  at  avoiding.  of  course,  he  would  find  him  in  some  random  hall  -  empty  and  alone.   

"  your  majesty,"  he  offered  somberly.   giving  a  bow  of  his  head  before  standing straight.  shoulders  rolled  back  and  meeting  the  king's  gaze  unwaveringly.  "  it  is  late,  i  did  not  think  any  would  be  roaming  the  halls  this  time.  "  he  kept  his  tone  cordial  but  made  no  move  to  progress  towards  him.  distance  is his  friend⸻  and  this  now ;   had him  danced  too  close  to  the  edge.   

[xinthesewallsx]

a little starter for @soughthope || for jj maybank

avoiding jj had been a lot easier that juniper thought. maybe it was cause she was spending most of her time on figure 8. the pogues rarely came on this side of the island. only one she saw was sarah and once and a while caught a glimpse of kie or jj on his bike leaving kie's. either way, the contact with the pogues had been minimal since their breakup. since the blond surfer had chose the kook turned pogue over her. some days she regrets every telling him to pursue her and she'd let him go, other days she thinks maybe it was for the best. those days she's usually spending with rafe, wrapped up in his presence and whatever activity they were doing to distract her.

she had been craving her favorite from the wreck and as much as she dreaded going in there the last few weeks, junie needed to satisfy that craving or she'd go mad. rafe was busy but had told her that he'd accompany her if she wanted. she promised him that she'd be fine and she'd have to face them at some point. rafe made her promise to call if she needed him. she really is lucky when it comes to the older cameron sibling. he looks out for her a lot. she's rocking back and forth on her heels, making chit chat with kie's mother, thankfully kie didn't seem to be working, and waiting on her food. she should have been prepared for when jj walked through the doors but she wasn't. her breath caught in her throat, eyes going wide before she quickly averted him. maybe she could pretend she wasn't there? she was small enough that she could disappear, right?

[tragedienes]

@mutatedangels / in reply to this, because i like to turn memes into threads lol i hope that's okay! made in beta.

soleil was a fuckin' liar. there, she just said it, and jeannie's already tenuous belief in her shattered completely then. that was what hurt the most, suspecting that she had been lying and then believing her anyway. jeannie felt a little mean, privately thinking her friend's stories were fabricated, or in the very least exaggerated, but she chose to give soleil the benefit of the doubt because she had just been so damn lonely. even before, when she was just a child and ice skating was only a hobby instead of her occupation, jeannine had a hard time making friends. the culture that figure skating promoted didn't exactly lend its self to friendships much either—everyone, even the few friends she did have, were competition.

she had left that all behind her, though. at least she had tried. since officially hanging up her skates and returning to small town louisiana, she had the same problems she did before, now she just made a lot less money (and had a lot less stress, too). her coworkers at big lots hadn't warmed up to her, nor had she warmed up to them, in her long eight months stocking shelves and ringing up customers. her step-mother, jesus christ did jeannie hate her, and she loved her toddler half-sister but she couldn't be counted as a friend. enter soleil.

soleil reminded her of a time in her life she had tried hard not to miss. she was glamorous and glossy, always speaking of fabulous adventures and famous people. jeannie had not wanted to admit that skating came with benefits, all the sponsorships and free clothing, all the perks that being a (moderately) successful skater gained. she had not wanted to admit that sometimes she still dreamt of olympic gold, she still wished she could've made it farther in her career, that she hadn't given it all up just because she was getting older and aging out. even if a tiny part of her thought soleil was a bullshitter, she was willing to ignore it if it meant she could still be in reaching distance of fame. maybe, if their friendship continued to grow, they'd both head out to new orleans or hollywood and take advantage of soleil's supposed famous connections, and jeannie could probably try her hand at being an influencer or something. just anything to get her out of her dad's house and a big lots uniform.

hearing her friend's excuses, it was making jeannie feel frustrated, ready for a tantrum that would make a kindergartner think she needed to relaxx. "that is not the way to play this!" uncrossing her arms, she held out her hands exasperatingly. even if there was some truth to what she was saying, jeannie didn't think that was a good enough explanation. sure, the house that jeannie lived in was nice, half a million dollars, but it was her dad's house. she had no real claim to it, not with her dad's new family taking up most of the space. sure, she had been used to the finer things in life, being gifted nike shoes and adidas sports bras, taking first class trips to european countries for competitions and exhibitions. that was all in the past, however. that wasn't the girl she was anymore. if anything, jeannie was more like her than soleil had realized: they were both broke as fuck. at least jeannie hadn't lied about it, though.

seeing her friend start to cry, it almost broke her resolve. she held fast, chin turning upwards slightly. "did you ever consider that maybe i would've liked you even if you did live in some shitbox and hadn't made up a bunch of stories?" jeannine dryly swallowed. the slow, sad little tear dragging down soleil's face nearly made her crack, but she kept it together. "i didn't have nobody either, y'know. i came back here to this town i hate and live with people i hate, and work with people i hate. you were the only person 'round these parts that didn't piss me off... now i really don't have anybody. in fact, i wish i had never met you. then i wouldn't be so disappointed."

[reddragon-cowboy]

plotted starter for @brigadeleadxr ! Spike visits the flower shop ! 🌸

He acknowledges he doesn't have to do this at all. Pay a small visit to the only flower shop nearby in the neighborhood, foundations of the shabby storefront laid a couple blocks away from a morsel of a home the bounty hunter created a dwelling place. But Niah had fallen ill as of recent, displaying symptoms which consists of : high temperature, weakness of the muscles, headaches, sore throat, to name a few; a list of ingredients thrown into a bowl that leads to the successful product of a (nasty ) fever. And for the past three days her sicken condition had fallen under his attentive observation, noticed a substantial shift in her emotions and the way her mood had severely dropped to the bottom end of the pool, as there was quite little within his capabilities to whisk her affliction away.

Spike carries little knowledge of flowers, yet, he knows she likes them--the vast majority of women across the cosmos do, as if it was instinctual in their genes to gravitate to the allure of flowers. In fact, it serves the purpose of him being here, hands tucked in pockets as he walks through one of the rows of plants, surrounded by their rich flowery scent and variety of colors that could leave one blind to their vibrant luminance. However, while he browsed the many flower species, his gaze would at times pry themselves away from colors and evergreen, half-lid eyes taking their slow time roaming over the rundown interior of the shop in comparison. And he's not one to really judge by appearance (that's a lie ), but he could conclude the establishment itself definitely required some fine tune-ups, some tweaking here and there to make it as fancy as these plants the owners were striving to sell.

But. . . his keen eye returns to the plants in question-- the tiny label attached read ' Tulips '. Absentmindedly does a finger lift to scritch his cheek. Unimpressed. He wanted something different, new, distinct, something that would stand out that it'll impress her enough to lift her mood every time she'd lay her eyes on them. It would shock anyone he (actually ) cared that much. But what ? And just then a voice breaks his attention. He turns and sees a young girl, one of the employees, or rather, the only employee he's seen thus far since he's walked in five minutes earlier. Surely, she could offer something better than this selection.

❝ Uh, excuse me, miss. ❞ Low voice rises up a notch, but feet remain steady and slow as he strolls over to where the young lady busies herself with something. ❝ You don't think you could help a guy out, can you ? ❞

[imprvdente]

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 & 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 @brassandblue​ from: “You’re funny when you’re angry.”

"You haven't seen me angry," Arthur snapped.

"This?" he gestured vigorously at himself, "this is annoyed. Frustrated, even! And I am ever so delighted you're getting a good bloody laugh out of it. Christ!"

He turned away as he paced in the small space which they currently occupied on one of the lower decks of Terror. Tears threatened and stung Arthur's eyes, so distraught was he still following Sir John's-- his father's-- death. He continued to scowl to hide the anguish in his weary green eyes.

Fish opened her mouth and closed it. She frowned, unsure why Sir Franklin’s death was upsetting him so. Not that she was heartless, far from it. She understood the despair of their situation, and the gravity of such a loss. But this? His reaction? It puzzled her. And so, she kept to herself the quip she was about to retort.

“I’m not laughing,” she simply pointed out. Death had been a part of Fish’s life, before she was even born. Her father had died when she was still in her ma’s belly. She had seen women taken by syphilis in the brothel, and then, it took her mother too. As for a life at sea, it brought its fair share of loss. But she was still bad at grief, ironically. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, as if she preferred to move forward, afraid perhaps to stop and think of all the people she had lost. Perhaps the sorrow would drown her, like a wave crashing against the shore. 

“Sir. Franklin’s death was a terrible accident,” she said, but she didn’t exactly believe her words. It was his hubris, that had killed him, and it would perhaps kill them all. The Ocean, as it turned out, was more ruthless than ever, when it was frozen solid.

[kitaishi]

@castershot // the familiar, soothing chime near the bar's entrance tells tifa she has a customer, causing her to look up from counting her latest earnings in confusion. seventh heaven wasn't open yet - lunch hour had passed, and she always opened back around seven for the evening crowd. it was a fact everyone knew and respected it. for those that didn't? well, they usually understood after quickly meeting her boot. ' LOCKHART! ' her name is shouted from the first floor of the bar and she instantly recognizes the voice, rolling her eyes before standing to greet one of her most loyal customers - and first friends in this city.

❛ we're not OPEN yet starwind ! ’ tifa shouts back from the basement, mostly so the noise of the elevator coming down doesn't completely drown her out.

' a drink, lockhart! ' is his dry response back. all she can do is place her hands on her hips in disapproval - it was a useless act considering he couldn't see her but it helped make her feel a bit more in control of the situation. even if it was only by a little. chewing on her lip while she rises up to meet him, the elevator eventually stops and the pinball machine acting as its platform locks into place with a slight jerk and audible ' snap '. gene's already sitting at the bar when she hops off of it, waiting for her: a cheek resting against one hand while the fingers of his free hand drum impatiently across the counter. she sighs, moving to turn off the bar's signage outside - her method of letting patrons know she wasn't opening for the night.

tifa had a feeling she wasn't going to be in the mood to work much after this.

ruby eyes quietly observe him - desperately trying to get a read on his temperature - before she speaks again. ❛ dilly dally, shilly shally. ’ tifa mutters an old phrase her mother used to say while frustrated as she steps behind the counter and pulls out a dry glass from the dish rack. it feels like she's swallowing shards of glass with every word because all of it is so hard: to be decisive, to speak her mind, and to stand her ground even when it hurts. tifa feels like she's been on the verge of telling him to leave and go really be the man the little boy that trailed after him looked up to so many times. or at the very least, tell him to do her a favor and go drink himself to oblivion somewhere else instead. but smiling and pretending everything was alright was what she did best and certainly easier than saying the truth. even if all it did was make things worse. 

❛ alright... i'll make you a drink. ’ tifa begins with crossed arms and a shaky, deep breath. ❛ but first, we need to talk. ’

[lususnatura]

“ tell me, what happened?”

in yet another downpour that gotham was experiencing, blamore found himself in the middle of it; and without an umbrella as well. not that that really mattered much, as blamore was in the type of mood that would sometimes make people stand in the rain in hopes that it might cleanse them — relieving their body and spirit of the troubles that held onto them like a vice. he just wished that he knew one single question: why? but the closest blamore had ever gotten to having that question answered was by consulting itself, and yet, it still didn't know for sure whether it had the right idea about things.

was it coming back to life the way he was now (half-monster and half-human) all part of some sick joke run by nature itself? or, had it happened because whatever higher power there may be out there deemed that he wasn't done here — that he didn't get to die just yet? blamore truly didn't know, so perhaps dwelling on it would just end up making him mad in the end. existential dread was something everyone experienced though... right? a sigh slipped through its lips as it sat on a bench in robinson park, uncovering the bandage that concealed the gash on its hand. he'd moved it only to discover it still looked as bad as when he first got it.

a groan slipped through blamore's lips as it was just about to slam its body into the bench out of frustration before it heard someone talk to it. now, looking up, the creature could see that they were someone he definitely didn't know. though they seemed to be asking about his hand all the same. blamore immediately plastered a small smile on its face before going for its go-to answer for things like this, ❝ ahh, it's just an occupational hazard, really. no need to worry about me. i already do enough of that on my own, ❞ while chuckling slightly awkwardly, it then quickly put the bandage back over its wound. blamore could only hope that he'd only gotten a glimpse at it and didn't see that his skin had been partially burned.

whoever they (loki) was, they also had an umbrella on them, he thought. so perhaps if blamore was nice to him... it could move this existential conversation it was having with itself somewhere else. preferably with air conditioning as it was starting to get cold, ❝ say, what are you doing taking a leisurely stroll through the park when its raining this hard? i answered your question, so i think its only fair that you answer mine. ❞

[cosmama]

it’s time. she knows that voice. it’s a distant and familiar sound, echoing throughout her subconscious as she struggles to place it. wake up. why? is the immediate thought that runs through her mind as the voice speaks. she wants to fight against its demands but can’t bring herself to do so. you are needed now. she wants to tell the voice no. she wants to tell it that she needs more time. just five more minutes of sleep but something stops her from complaining. why? because she recognizes that voice.

                                                   it’s her own.

akari's eyes snap open as she finally wakes, her eyes blinking sleepily as she adjusts to her surroundings. slowly does she begin to rise from the marble altar her body had been placed on - the protective crystal that encased her body receding to fully reveal the queen's body. her eyes carefully scan the room in order to get her bearings and akari isn't sure what to make of what surrounds her: it felt almost like....offerings? wilted roses, pearls, and other smaller gifts sat along the walls of her altar along with cards and notes that had turned yellow with age. candles and incense that had long burnt down littered the room along with layers of dust.

there was more but akari found it hard to focus on any of it. trying to focus on the present was becoming overwhelming, her vision blurring while she struggled to remember how she even-

                                                   MOTHER!

a cold shill runs down her back as she recalls what happened, vivid images from her memory shifting in and out of focus like a kaleidoscope: there were the first reports of an invasion at the galaxy's edge; a young, barely alive senshi had been found and the message hastily delivered to earth. images flashed of the contrasting emotions across her family's faces ( support, uncertainty, a quiet but seething anger ) when she announces her decision to transform for the first time in centuries in under to meet the unknown attackers directly. then there was her son's face, shifting gradually from horror to outrage as he desperately cries and reaches out to her - only to be held back by his guardian senshi. the last thing in her field of vision is her own hand, with the last of her strength, rising to reach out to her oldest and uttering a single word before everything went dark: run.

❛ archisei? ’ in her heart she knows that its been years despite it only feeling as if it all happened yesterday. still, the mother calls out for her child anyway before she's suddenly filled with this frantic, if not desperate, dread urge to see him. to tell him that she's okay now - that she's safe and alive. ❛ archisei! serenity! ’ akari's hoarse voice is more urgent, more fearful, as she calls out to her children. her legs, still weak from her long slumber, causing her to nearly collapse in her rush to get out of this tomb.

they're alive. akari reminds herself. they're alive; it's simply late and everyone is sleeping. yes, they're alive! that's all! ❛ sekai! i'm awake - i'm here!’ the doors are thrown open and desolation greets her, the halls of her home - once radiant and bright, constantly lively with warmth and constant company - is empty. her hands can only cover her mouth in pure disbelief as she wanders through the rooms she had lovingly decorated: the wallpaper had long faded, exposing the rotting walls and peeling paint whilst half broken chandeliers littered ground. the castle's windows, depicting images of sailor moon, were left shattered and unfixed, completely exposing the inside to the temperament of the elements.

not all of the destruction was from age - some of the shattered columns that littered the palace looked as if someone had been thrown completely through. small craters littered the once glossy floors, scorch marks covering the walls with furniture torn and tossed about. a fight had happened here - and an intense one at that. ❛ anyone?! please answer me?! ’ her tearful pleas echo down the hall but only silence answers her in return. // @apollynn