#ii. open starters

[tcmbcy]

open to: anyone.

connections: significant other, friend, co-worker, ex-teammate from his days on the penguins, go wild

“I  don't  need  a  break,  I'm  okay,”  Marcus  huffs,  holding  on  to  the  edge  of  the  rink  he'd  been  skating  on.  It'd  been  a  good  couple  of  years  since  he'd  actually  skated,  since  his  injury  took  him  out  of  the  game  entirely  and  he  hadn't  been  on  the  ice  since.  Sure,  he  had  a  dream  job  now  of  coaching,  but  that  did  little  to  satiate  his  desire  to  actually  skate  again  that  spent  every  day  eating  at  him  little  by  little.  Bringing  his  eyes  to  lock  with  theirs,  he  shook  his  head.  “Don't  tell  me  I  need  to  get  off  the  ice,  it's  not  happening.”

[salvatoraes]

open to : mutuals. set in season five, qetsyiah has fried his brain to link him to silas, leaving him with amnesia. your muse is trying to help him remember who he is & who your muse is.

" sorry, i really don't remember. " he shakes his head, looking over at the other with an added shrug. he sighs, hating that he not only couldn't remember who he was but what he was ... a vampire, he's told. there's a frown pulling to his features, he's also upset he can't remember who they were but it's evident they're important in his life. " is there anything else you can tell me ? about me or you. or us ? were we friends ? "

[starcunin]

open starter | act ii

Astarion prowled through the camp, his steps light but impatient, disturbing the dry, brittle leaves scattered underfoot. The shadowcurse had drained the land of life, leaving the air thick with a suffocating gloom. Not a creature stirred in the darkness beyond the fire’s dim glow, no eyes gleaming from the underbrush, no rustling in the trees. His hunger had grown into a gnawing ache, a constant, maddening presence that he couldn’t ignore. Stopping at the camp’s edge, he cast a wry glance into the desolate woods.

❛ It seems even the wildlife has the good sense to be dead, ❜ he remarked with a mock sigh, ❛ Honestly, if I don’t find something edible soon, I might just have to start considering the... local cuisine. ❜

He turned back to the camp, a sly smile playing on his lips as he met his companion’s eyes, ❛ Kidding, of course, ❜ he added, his tone light and teasing, though there was a glint in his crimson eyes that hinted at something darker. ❛ I’m far too refined to start nibbling on my dear friends—at least, not without an invitation. ❜ His chuckle was soft, almost playful, but there was a tension beneath it, a whisper of temptation he was determined to keep buried. The joke hung in the air, a veiled plea for something—anything—to distract him from the hunger gnawing at his will.

[xflashbastardx]

Crowley - open starter - for Aziraphale

Crowley had really hoped this moment wouldn't come. He had expected it, of course, after they'd swapped back on the bench. When Aziraphale had beamed at him and recounted how he had made Michael miracle him a towel. But it hadn't come then; they had laughed and Crowley had been able to segue easily into inviting the angel to lunch. And then lunch came and went without the subject being brought up again. Same with the rest of the afternoon. By the time the were relaxing in the bookshop as the sun went down, Crowley had begun to think it wouldn't come up at all. That he'd never have to tell him.

So, of course, that was when Aziraphale had asked. He'd turned those crystal blue eyes on him and asked what his trial had been like.

And suddenly, that warm and comfortable, almost glowing feeling Crowley had had all day vanished. For a moment, he considered lying; it would spare the angel's feelings, surely. But no, he needed to know. He deserved to know the truth. So he turned towards him, in that same softly solemn way he had when he'd asked about his bookshop (before Adam had restored it).

"Angel, you... you didn't get a trial."

[tolimorghon]

“my beautiful sister, you are so strong. brave and the only one, the crown is yours.”

open starter / Aegon II Targaryen / open to Rhaenyras

[percentstardust]

Rhaenyra sits with Aegon II in her lap, bouncing the boy in an effort to amuse him. The toy dragon he likes carrying around is in his small hand. She actually gifted him that. The princess smiles down at him as she does so.

"Don't tell anyone, but, I might take you to see Syrax, baby brother." She whispers to him since she assumes they are alone.

[soulsbetrayed]

“....”

He has a migraine that won’t go away.  Is it really wise to approach him at all?

[tcmbcy]

open to: anyone. connections: roommate, teammate, significant other, best friend, whatever you fancy, go crazy.

“just  let  me  sleep  for  five  more  minutes,”  andrew  groans  in  the  pillow.  he  was  doing  his  best  to  ignore  the  sun  that  was  also  now  stirring  him  from  sleep.  he  wasn't  a  morning  person  –  never  had  been,  never  will  be.  it  was  off  season  for  him  now  so  he  didn't  have  to  really  be  anywhere  besides  the  gym,  but  andrew  didn't  have  to  be  there  for  a  few  more  hours.  “i  wouldn't  be  stirring  you  from  your  beauty  sleep.”

[murdercapitxl]

Small Open Starter

"Dangerous to be out this late. Haven't you heard the stories?"

[runelocked]

OPEN STARTER! ——— MUTUALS ONLY.

There’s a pounding in his head as he nurses his coffee that morning — not tea, coffee, nose wrinkling in sheer betrayal at the taste — quite frankly, it’s far too early to be here. The restaurant doesn’t open for another hour, but he’d dragged himself here two hours ago just to get out of his study for a while. Not that sitting here is any better: William’s eyes haven’t left the stack of papers sitting in front of him, scanning each one like he hates it personally; so engrossed in his work that he sees their approach and automatically assumes they’re a waiter— “ Another coffee, please, ” he mumbles, gaze still fixed on his files, “ black. ”

[kingpinpenguin]

╱╱ open.

"How dare they?! These fools think they can cross me? Oh, they will PAY for their insolence, DEARLY!" Oswald paces back and forth with a half-empty glass of wine in his hand, raging to himself; then the door suddenly opens and his icy gaze falls upon the intruder.

[hellfrczencver]

"♪ I can go without water or food Won't affect my attitude I'm totally set as long as I get my Five servings of you per day Five servings of you per day

I can go without sunshine or sleep Long enough to make a grown man weep I won't break a sweat as long as I get my Five servings of you per day Five servings of you ♫"

[albamendez]

Open. Date: Saturday, September 27th, 1924 Location: Drawing room at the Vincelli mansion The party was starting to get in full swing, the alcohol was free-flowing and the entertainment was beguiling everyone. Alba had taken a moment to herself, she was still really worried about running into anyone she knew. She had moved into a separate room, and when she stepped into it, she realised it was the drawing room. The books were a relaxing and familiar sight. Unlike home, there were so many books here, Alba took a moment to take it all in. She was lost in thought, so much so that she didn't hear someone open the door and walk in.

Alba jumped when she heard the door close, she turned around and wrapped her arms around herself as she smiled politely out of etiquette. "I apologise, you made me jump."

[cantillat-moved]

Slender gloved fingertip brushed against the handle of the teacup, the long onyx hair cascading on his back as he kept sitting down. Despite being a teacher, sometimes social obligations were very draining; especially on days that he had planned to spend hours grinding on his favourite MMO. Still, Lord El-Melloi II put some effort in going to that teahouse. The burgundy shirt contrasted against his black suit, the sombre outfit making the deep crevices on his features look much older than he truly was – or perhaps it was the stress. ❝ How can I be of assistance ?❞  

[fledermoved-too]

OPEN. UNLIMITED REPLIES.

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“Hello?”

His voice came out in a rasp, gaze searching to sweep the unfamiliar landscape. An ache overcame him, though only in his front half. Not surprising to him — though not ideal, either. How far had he fallen? How far was he from the park? Would Crush find him again and finish the job?

“Pecan? ...Nil?” Lark called out again, dragging himself forward in what strength he could muster. “Anyone there?”

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[ectoamerican]

Okay. You're lost. There are too many people around to go ghost. Don't panic, Fenton. Just ask the nearest person where you are. No big deal.

"Hey, uh. Where is this?" Nailed it! Be specific. Come up with a good lie too. "I mean, like what city? I think I fell asleep on the bus."