#dont feel pressured to match length!!

[classiqals]

closed starter -> @tormxntum

setting -> in a thick patch of woods some ways from the lal qila palace, as night begins to darken, the further reaches of the property considered to the sharma's, probably the edge of guard detail or such

having finally drawn up the courage to venture out beyond sight of the palace, despite having initially been perturbed by the fact her arrival was greeted with an arrest, henriette had been enjoying her long trek through the undeveloped woods that sprawled behind the farm fields behind the lal qila palace. until her horse bolted. thunder sounded in the far distance, and to her dismay ( and sore knee, stickying the fine fabrics of her petticoat with blood and muck from the thawing ground ) henriette was beginning to doubt her ability to walk the miles back to the palace before the rain would hit. she'd never feared the dark back home, nor felt at risk of being lost.

everything felt different here; even the air itself were unfriendly. the trees loomed too in too close like they had eyes desperate to pry, and the animal tracks that she tried to follow were unfamiliar. child of the wild, indeed. henri was beginning to doubt this moniker, so heartwarmingly given by the townsfolk back home.

and yet - she felt at home, with her riding boots now hanging by their laces haphazardly in tow, feet bare against the cold ground and stockings shoved into a slight slit of her skirts, from the tumblr off her horse. should it rain and pour, as the evening sky threatened, henriette fancied herself a tree to scale, to shelter under the branches. a princess not, did the woman appear, as she trekked the tedious horse's path back towards her lodging. when an echo of hoofbeats came against the rocky outcrop, she froze - frightful, naturally, of another accusation of being an intruder, and nearly bolted to hide behind the nearest large anything to avoid another capture. but she moved too slow, and was more of a deer in headlights when the silhouette approached from the path ahead. " i am not an intruder! " henriette announced confidently to them, putting on the practiced voice of a princess, she'd taken the better part of a decade to master. " so do not detain me, sir, for i have already served my time. " a slight sniff of indignation, despite her slight wild appearance that could suggest otherwise. " i am a princess of madagascar, and before you ask, no. i am not lost. just perhaps... a bit left behind. " the explanation was concluded with her holding up her other hand, the one free of her boots, to show the broken bridal from the horse she'd been previously riding.

[savvyjacks]

Jack could feel the cool October breeze caress his heated face and rustle at his open jacket, drinking at the pier was never a good idea, but Jack rarely had one of those anymore. He swigged at his cheap-ass beer, ignoring the piss poor taste of it, but he wouldn't dare drinking anything Elizabeth made. He debated emptying the rest of it into the sea when he noticed a figure nearby and sighed dramatically -- fucking sheriff woody again?

Jack groggily lifted his dwindling attention to the warm body and grunted in annoyance. "Oi oi, looking at something or for someone?"

[eyeless-smiles]

One Mistake | @eroskissedskin

He'd fucked up.

He'd fucked up, and Dream was going to find out.

He always does.

The Corinthian paces the Dreamers bedroom with an anxious feverishness. Golden fingers trailing through his blond locks with traces of fresh blood.

The room is empty. The Dreamer is awake now. Probably desperately dialling 911 to report an attack by a man from his dreams.

It had just been a split-second decision. One the Nightmare would never have made, under the right circumstances.

No, if Dream hadn't been neglecting him as much as He had recently, the Nightmare would have never sought out this mortal lookalike.

If Dream hadn't been so fucking cold and angry with him all the time. If He hadn't been keeping him on a short leash for the mistakes his predecessor made, he wouldn't be here.

It was just instinct when the Dreamer had looked up at him with tear filled blue eyes- welling with fear. The Corinthian couldn't help but slip from the fabric of dreams and into reality. Into the Dreamers bed.

Atop the real thing.

It was a brief, thirty second affair. The Corinthian had caged the mortal down. And his knife- now very much real, carved against the screaming boys skin like butter. Releasing the biting scent of blood into the air.

A spark of excitement flickers in the back of his mind that felt like a distant memory being relived. A part of the old Corinthian rearing its ugly head.

It was the smell of blood that abruptly sent the Nightmare scuttling back to the Dreaming with his cosmetic heart hammering in his chest.

Dream couldn't know. It was so quick- He wouldn't have noticed the Corinthian's absence, would he?

All he did was cut the mortal- smelled his blood, tasted his fear.

But this is Dream we're talking about. The second iteration of the Corinthian has been walking on eggshells with Him for months since his remaking. Would Dream see this slight as a crime worthy of his undoing once more?

The Nightmare takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Wishes the blood away from his frame. He's fine. He's in the Dreaming, where he belongs. Dream wouldn't have noticed his split absence, He has better things to do.

Turning towards the door, the Nightmare steps out of this now redundant dream to find somewhere to hide for a while.

[clearrivers]

@ghostlypath -- 魏无羡 / wei wuxian

he fears that he will never find peace in his brother again. wuxian is reckless and bitter in a way different from youth; try as he might to understand the fractured pieces, he doesn't find a shred of familiarity amongst the wreckage. behind his eyelids, tucked in the recesses of dreams, wuxian always wears that infuriating smirk, the thin dizi pressed to easy lips sounding an insidious but steady tune in spite of trembling cheeks, stained by tears and blood. he finds that an easier pill to swallow: transposing a villainized cariacature rather than accepting the inconceivable evidence of damage before him.

in truth, he's already forgiven wuxian, but he's sentimental and foolish -- niang had criticized those innate flaws, and like an ill-omen, he'd carried them like sins across his back to the bitter end. the sharp tongue, the only thing he shares with her, is wielded like a sword, but only to ward off the greater damage of his hurt, that runs too deep for him to name. he aches whenever he remembers that awful night, spent sobbing on his knees, half-delirious from injuries as he regurgitated all his clogged resentment in clumsy gasps. god, all that nonsense he'd said in front of jinling... that brings an even thicker pang of self-loathing.

"wei wuxian," he says, cautiously absent of all feelings in particular, because it seems as if he's spent a lifetime's worth of it on wuxian, and that more than enough emotional debt for any theatrics to be spared. still, stupid hope lingers on his tongue as he speaks, "i didn't think you would be coming back to lotus pier any time soon."

[fictionformed]

thomas o'malley for @nctquiteshakespeare // duchess' place

Thomas should have known better that this wasn't a good idea, that running fast as his legs could take him to Duchess' place where her children lived was beyond awful. What if one of them opened the door? What if none of them opened the door? What if they were gone--again, separated, taken from him in the night with not a single thing he could do about it. So when Eeyore didn't show for her shift, and the diner TV played a live feed of Mayor Reed making an announcement Thomas didn't even ditch his apron before sprinting half way across town.

Breathless and red faced Thomas' fists rapped impatiently on the door, he waited a few seconds and began again, this time increasing in panicked speed as he felt the worst was going to come true. "DUCHESS!" he yelled, voice raspy as he held back the tears forming, had he lost her again? This couldn't be happening. "Duchess, baby! Its Tommy open up please." he cried, his voice breaking as shaking hands and red knuckles couldn't take the pressure. In a final, desperate moment, with little hope he had left Thomas uttered a prayer out loud, hoping his girl was still in Evermore. "Please please if you're up there-- let her be in that fucking house."

[blankticket]

The cotton pads and medical tape's placed back into the medicine cabinet, shut gently as not to make much noise. It's a habit—no longer with crewmates or roommates or hosts to bother—Vash has always lived with other people.

That loneliness is what wins against his better judgment not to send texts in the dead of night. There's no mistaking the Plant's heart is forever heavy with guilt, with shame, and with fear; but he was listening to them, that day on the Boardwalk.

[text]: Hi! And, sorry. I couldn't stand to live in Archimedes anymore. [text]: I won't be around there again. Sorry you've both had to put up with all these weeks of what I've done. I'm sure it must have been hard on you both… And I know I haven't been there for you. I promise, I miss you both so, so much. [text]: I'm in Burnt Umber. If you can believe it, Home's out there! Actually, I'm in there right now, typing this to you. It's more or less exactly the way things looked the last time you were over, although the crew's dwindled down to just plain old me. [text]: I was wondering… If you'd like to come live here? It's a lot more lush and lively than Noman's Land, but I don't think you'll have trouble finding where I'm at. I've attached the coordinates anyway, just in case! [text]: Just thought offering a safe place to stay would be the least I could do for you two. I've seen a lot of the coverage, heard things. I'm really, really sorry for all the trouble. [text]: Oh, sorry to text you so late, too! No new phone excuse here, just me being me.

Vash runs the faucet after setting his phone aside, leaving it face-up on the counter while he stares at it apprehensively. The thin stream of cold water running over his hands brings him some measure of calm, even if it always feels a bit like a guilty pleasure. Wasteful.

…These might be the most terrifying messages he's ever sent.

—

➠ ➠ ➠ ➠ ➠ ➠ @merynger @punishercross

[silentchamp]

CONTINUED (from HERE.) | @alolynn-heart

He would watch everything unfold silently--letting the woman go about her business while patiently waiting to be tended to at the front counter.

Here to pick up a delivery; his delivery. While the point of it being a "delivery" means he doesn't need to pick it up, Red thought it'd be better to retrieve the delectable goods himself. Saves whoever is in charge of his order any trouble, and more than that, he would have the fortunate relief of satisfying his newfound hunger much, much quicker.

Red watches her step onto the bar stool, making a mental note on the danger of the situation. Surely a step ladder would've been the better option...

That's what he thinks, at least.

She'll be fine--!

Suddenly, Pika, Red's faithful companion, smears her head against the glass window decked up and down with pastries, cakes, and other drool-worthy treats. In a bout of excitement, her tail jerks upward, and the electric mouse lets out a cheer loud enough to rival the roar of even the most daring ursaring.

Just then, the stranger working behind the counter stumbles on her makeshift stool, no doubt from Pika's joyous wailing, and Red gasps.

It's a split second, the way Red's demeanor changes--trainer sprinting forward to catch to defenseless delivery girl. Slamming onto his knees, he slides forward with arms out, catching her from behind.

Another gasp, though more of a sigh this time; he'd held his breath. As the dust settled and the adrenaline fell, eyebrows worry as a searing pain hits his kneecaps.

That doesn't matter, though.

Grumbling, Red hides his discomfort behind a soft smile, rubbing thighs with his hands as the kind lady departs from his grasp. "You...okay?" He murmurs rather simply, not calling to attention her own concern or gratitude.

[kcwalski]

@jimmycrystal ( for jimmy or porsha, your choice ! ) // s.c.

If one were to ask any of the animals that resided in Central Park, then they would be told that it was always unusual to see one of the penguins on their own, unaccompanied by at least one other member of the flock. It was even more unusual for them to leave New York, nonetheless leave alone, and yet...here was Kowalski, away from home by himself for the first time in...likely years.

Skipper had sent him on a solo mission, one that wasn't too dangerous for him to handle alone, but more delicate than Rico could handle, and neither Private nor Sam were authorized for a one-man mission, but that also counted for each other. And, conveniently as ever, Luna was currently benched due to an injury coupled with an illness, so Skipper had to stay to look after her. So it was up to the scientist to complete the task.

He was bored anyways -- no new ideas for the lab and he couldn't quite make progress on current projects until new shipments of his chemicals and new beakers came in after the explosion the previous week. He could still hear ringing in his earholes...

Glancing down at the instructions he'd written down for himself ( in doodles and numbers -- he could have attempted morse, but that would've taken far too long to prepare than Skipper would have allowed, ) and...damn, he knew none of these addresses. Any attempts to locate a map of this place he could understand fell short, and this kids' menu he found in a puddle on the ground a few cities and bus stops back certainly was no substitute.

Paying more attention to the stack of papers below than where he was going, he wound up bumping into someone and falling on his ass like some first-year hatching.

" Oh shi- " The full word nearly slipped out, but he caught himself in time and hopped back up to his feet. " My apologies -- I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright ? "

[stmulnts-a]

⋯⋯⋯ Addiction is never something easy to get rid of. Tweek knew that, he's always known that. Without m― . . . his parents' coffee, he found himself downing anything that would keep his energy up. Straight black coffee, at first. Then anything from Harbucks with a couple shots of espresso. Then back - to - back Red Bulls. Then he could hardly be seen without a Bang energy in his hand.

Eventually, even that didn't feel like enough.

Despite any withdrawal symptoms, Tweek refused to get help at first, simultaneously refusing to go back to Tweak Bro's coffee. He thought getting past that would be the hardest part. And, yeah, it was hard. Really fucking hard. Even the better days, during that time, paranoia lingered in the back of his mind, joints and muscles ached, exhaustion would come quick if he didn't have a caffeinated drink in his hand.

Long term? Now that coffee and energy drinks didn't work so well anymore? That sickeningly disturbing idea cropped up in his head. Go back. Order a coffee from your parents' shop. What's one cup gonna do? No, get someone else to order for you. A stranger. Give them the money, tell them to keep the change, even.

Fuck, he needed help, didn't he?

He paced Craig's his bedroom, staring at his cell phone, thumb hovering over the call button. He'd already talked to Laura and Thomas, after a long debate with himself, and it was decided: he'd admit himself to a rehab center up in Denver. He just. . . he wanted someone closer to him to drive him up. Craig's parents were great, but he felt like he needed someone else. For emotional support before checking in. So he could say a proper goodbye before they get there.

A twitch in his hand made his thumb press the call button. “Fuck―” Too late now. The line's already ringing. So he just stuck his phone up to his ear, teeth gnawing on the opposite hand's thumbnail. Hoping for an answer.

open to anyone !

[slowshcw]

closed starter for @fakecmpire

reena finished work earlier than expected. with few cases, more than one vet seemed pointless. her colleague had graciously offered to stay. she was certain he was only doing it to avoid driving through the fog. as any sane person would. but, the fog didn’t scare her; it was a common phenomena in grimrose. and, there was nothing to fear about something tangible. unless you counted other people. and, well, of course, fear itself. no, if anything, the weather brought out her innate curiosity.

bundled in layers, she rushed home faster than her legs could carry her, carefully trying to avoid what she couldn’t see. the apartment was close. but, despite her haste, the journey seemed slower. no doubt from boredom warping her perception of time. reena checked up on the animals, who seemd to have settled down since the morning. storms always freaked them out. she bed them farewell with kisses, grabbing her rucksack and making a beeline for the door. there was no time to waste. the destination? her brother’s apartment. she wasn’t fond of it; she made that clear all the time. it was a force of habit at this point. how can one person have so much lying around? it baffled her. this time, she wanted to ask a favour. well, it was more of a quest. 

by the time she had reached his place, reena could no feel her fingers. or her toes, for that that matter - as if the cold had penetrated her very skin. this was the downside of living right by the sea. she knocked on his door with increasing impatience. when it opened, all she could repeat was, “hey, hey, hey,” as she attempted to get her breath back. her chest felt so tight she thought it’d might explode. the veterinarian was quite healthy, but the cold weather had been wreaking havoc with her body. even a simple walk was hell. she took a small step into the apartment as she regained compsure, taking notice of her surroundings. “god, when’s the last time you cleaned,” were not the words ‘god, it’s good to see you’ as she’d hoped to stay nor were they what her brother probably wanted to hear. too late to take them back now, though. “do you want me to tidy quickly?” 

[sureihsan-arc]

who: @alarakaplan​​ what: reunited and it feels so BAD where: some street corner or sumn

he was immersed in the world again. forced out of the mental plane by the sun’s cruel glare, forcing consciousness upon him, forcing himself back in his body. a body he did not long to be in. disconnected from it, limbs moving without his permission, forever detached from his mind...  his body did exactly what he did not wish to do: it stood up and cracked its back with all the subtlety of a male peacock. he glanced towards the little camp he had set up -- two dollars left in his ‘tip’ jar, painting stolen. well, $2 while alive is worth more than whatever the fuck picasso made when he was still alive. just about to pick up his utensils and move elsewhere -- a different corner, perhaps -- he caught sight of a certain someone who made him stop dead in his tracks. and only two people would ever be capable of that. only two people would ever bring such a flurry of emotion to ihsan, pierce the mask that he had become. his chest filled with rage... rage and grief and longing and confusion. confusion over rage and grief and longing. oh, but best to ignore it ! “ you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. ” rubbing a hand over his face, the other dropping the utensils he was preparing to move ( however distant it felt, for this body was nothing more than a mere vessel ), he charged towards that shamefully familiar figure before she could charge towards him first -- hell, hopefully before she had had the chance to see him. “ don’t tell me you’re fucking back in chicago. this isn’t your fucking place, brutus. ”  snapping his head up to the sky, addressing the big man upstairs... or whatever he should be talking to, he threw his hands out in gesture to her and called, “ actually, all things that are fucking holy, let me be talking to thin air ! ”  but she was real -- his mind, however sideways it could create the world, registered her as there. and it had become talented at distinguishing the real vs. the fake. and the confusion within it was not the confusion he was so familiar with, so content with. 

[bruiisedpetals-a]

  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐫𝐚  𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐣𝐨𝐲  +  𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚  𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦

@arzodae​​ liked this starter call !

house drumm’s blood-red sigil flapped stark against the clouded skies of the iron islands , with a favourable wind carrying 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 to anchorage with house goodbroother (of shatterstone old wyk)’s 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 flanking it — captained by her elder cousin wulffryd — and accompanied by house goodbrother (of hammerhorn on great wyk)’s 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 ; who was captained by wulffryd’s cousin.      bringing house drumm and goodbrother to pyke was the raven announcing that lord balon had taken the title of 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 —   the taste of war was in the salted air , one would have to be deaf and dumb to be ignorant of that fact.   wulffryd had been commanded to present himself and the wanderer by lord balon as one of the most feared and famed ironborn of old wyk , whilst regnarra sailed as representative of her house and the isle.

❝ haul the lines and get those sails down! — ❞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝’𝐬 pale hair whipped wildly around her tattooed , angular features as she toyed with the driftwood piece strung about her neck — her sharp , booming command hastening the crew even further.   her quartermaster thundered the commands to drop anchor and ready the longboat to head to shore and on the wind she could hear similar commands echoed from the goodbrother vessels.   when her pale eyes alighted on the lettering of a greyjoy ship - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧�� 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 - she could not help but be pleased to see another vessel sailing under a female captain  ( aside from yara and the sea bitch ).  

once ashore she headed towards the krakens kiss , wet sand and brittle shells crunching under her boots with her bosun following a few steps behind as dutiful guard.  the kraken’s crew seemed to be unloading cargo from a longboat of their own ... perhaps they had recently reached the island as well.

❝ where’s your captain? ❞ regnarra shouted over the wind as she approached ,  ❝ is she aboard or at pyke? ❞

[eyeless-smiles]

[ wall ]   Cain shoving [human?] Corinth up against a wall.

@murderdeals

This may just be the first time the Corinthian has ever experienced anything close to the fear it felt when faced with his unmaking by Dream's hand. And boy, do human bodies experience fear. His heart is jumping into his throat, racing like a jackhammer. Had he a moment to think, he'd wonder how the damn things don't explode.

And all this is spurred on by the mere sight of Cain. He's frozen in place. Why can't he move? Is this the whole deer stuck in headlights phenomenon?

Trying to understand his adrenaline fuelled paralysis doesn't linger for long, because the object of his terror is upon him and unceremoniously shoving him into a wall. The air is instantly knocked from his lungs, shattering that paralysis and instead leaving him scrambling to claw at the arm that has him pinned. His chest heaving. Winded. Fuck. Has Cain always been this strong-? No, his own body is just weaker.

He grins, despite his hammering pulse. Just play it cool. He doesn't know.

"What the fuck- do you want..-?!"

[ssnowbunnii]

Closed starter for @townofcadence

Christmas eve had always been their day to celebrate. Every year, without fail, they would get together and just... do something. It had never mattered what. Bunni had always been happy to just be together for a day no matter what. At least, that's what she thought, until Christmas eve became a day of sitting in a silent hospital room next to her dear friend who might never wake up again. And it was all her fault.

This new place, this new world, was very similar to her own in so many ways, but was so different, too. It was exciting, she enjoyed it, but now it was Christmas eve and she couldn't even spend it in the same room they were in. So she did the next best thing. Out in the woods like this, you would never know you were anywhere else. It was exactly the same, all the way up to the cliffside and the steep drop below. She'd been here for awhile now, all day in fact. Sitting with her legs dangling off the edge, mostly. But as it got darker, and darker, and colder... she stood. To stare down the cliff and into the rocks below. It really was a miracle that Amelie hadn't been impaled when they... fell. When they jumped. But not of their own accord! When they were forced to. Which wouldn't have happened if... if she hadn't brought them here.

Oh, god.

The entire area had dropped its temperature dramatically since she'd come out here, the entire forest felt like it was going to freeze over. But she couldn't stop imagining it. The sound they had made when they fell, the sound of the... of the crunch. Frost was spreading over the dirt and grass all around her, out from her feet. What had it felt like..? Were they scared? Were they there at all? The sight of them crumpled on the rocks below... it haunts her still, like she can see them perfectly. She releases a quivering breath, and it fogs the air.

[fictionformed]

Thomas O'Malley for @nctquiteshakespeare // a location where the kiddos can't find them;)

Duchess in Evermore? Fuck if that was some dumb luck or second chance at happiness.. Thomas wasn't sure, because on one hand she was here, with him! And on the other.. she was here... with him.. trapped. It was mind warping, confusing, frustrating and exhilarating all at once, to have her back in his life was the greatest gift he'd ever been given-- but to win her back? That was a challenge he would rise to without question. As Thomas walked along carrying a blanket under his arm and holding a large wicker basket full up with sandwiches, snacks, cakes, lemonade and wine he couldn't stop thinking of their last kiss. No, not the one over ten years ago, the passionate one they shared last week.

With that moment burning itself into his brain Thomas quickened his pace to meet Duchess. All the first date jitters, and doubts danced around their history in his mind. What if she doesn't show? What if she thinks this was a mistake? No no-- Thomas believed in them. He believed in their love and past being stronger than any... magic town in the middle of nowhere? Looking up Thomas swore time stilled and his heart stopped as he drank up the sight of Duchess in the summer sun, like no time had passed at all. "Duchess" he breathed, "You are .. breath taking."

[flappervcmp]

I thought we were having a moment.

"Still could be, if you keep moving your thumb along my waist like that." Annie was straddled atop of Micah, peering down at him with curious eyes. The only reason she was there in the first place was because she'd gotten curious about what might happen if she tried to drink his blood while he was high.

She'd gotten distracted though by the sight of him smoking, and so was now just perched on top of him as he lazily moved his thumb across her skin while he smoked away.

Annie didn't usually go for smokers for a meal, and especially not pot smokers. She always assumed it would be like drinking a drunk person's blood, and she didn't want to be caught off guard but now that she was in a more secure environment to test it, she was practically vibrating with curiosity.

The only issue was that Micah was far too pretty and she found it easy to just get lost staring at him, eyes trailing across him and taking everything in. It had been so long since she'd been remotely close to a human, but Micah was different. He wasn't going to go running screaming through town at the first sight of fangs.

"You're just.. surprisingly distracting."