#last open starter for a while

[forestofstarlight]

Open Starter: Hot and Cold (Male, Female or Futa)

The howling wind rages outside in the Aurora Tundra as an unexpected snowstorm hits full force. The harsh cold causing your muse to stay longer than expected after being invited over to Crystal’s fancy home. However, the cold still in your muse’s body was quickly being overtaken by a heated argument between the two women.

“Oh please, Ruby. It’s clear which of the two of us our guest would want to spend time with. And that’s me~” Crystal boasts with a smug smile on her lips, causing the fire mage to growl in annoyance.

“Says you, you stuck up cold lover.” Ruby retorts between clenched teeth “At least I’m actually tolerable to be around.”

Crystal lets out a shocked gasp and places a dramatic palm over her heart “Well, I never!”. She then turns towards your muse.

“Dear, please put this silly feud to a close. Which one of us do you prefer?”

[writtenxbeginnings]

"He forgot he had sex with me? He forgot he had sex with me?!"

[rcsplendent]

open  starter      —      anyone!    ( @francehqstarters ) location  :  a  tea  parlor.     time  :  evening.

it's  been  a  long  time  since  othello  put  any  sort  of  pencil  or  paint  to  paper.  he's  just  been  so  awfully  busy  —  his  new  title  had  unfortunately  come  with  a  whole  litany  of  new  responsibilities,  &  therefore obligations  to  show  his  face  in  places  he  still  feels  he  has  no  business  being  in.  but  this  is  a  rare  evening  off,  &  he  feels  compelled  to  make  the  most  of  it  —  so  here  he  sits  in  a  tea  parlor,  a  bound  book  of  thick  paper  in  his  lap,  a  stick  of  charcoal  in  hand.  he'd  originally  meant  to  sketch  the  landscape  outside,  but  his  mind  had  wandered,  &  in  the  blink  of  an  eye  he  finds  himself  with  a  portrait  of  the  person  across  from  him  under  his  fingers.  he's  nearly  done,  just  adding  shadows  with  thick,  inky  black  strokes  &  highlights  with  a  rubber  eraser,  when  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  notices  them  begin  to  stand.   "  just  a  moment,  darling,  "     he  blurts  out  quickly,  extending  a  hand  in  an  attempt  to  get  them  to  wait,  his  fingers  coated  in  black  powder.  he  smiles  sheepishly,  realizing  belatedly  that  he  probably  looks  a  bit  psycho,  telling  somebody  he  hasn't  spoken  to  all  evening  not  to  get  up  from  their  chair.  in  an  attempt  to  explain,  he  lifts  his  book  &  shows  the  page  to  them.   "  my  apologies. i've ... been  sketching  you.  i'd  love  to  finish,  if  you'd  let  me ... ?  you  can  keep  it,  afterwards ... "

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

btw after four years i finally finished all data from my iberian-inspired fakemon region. if you even care

[citrinitxs]

I'm back bitches (died for x amount of time because college exists)

[untilthcyrot]

things you said prompts | 12. things you said when you thought i was asleep asked by @freakarus

Sleep was supposed to be a sacred time for people; a way for the mind to recharge, for the body to relax, and for dreams to whisk you away from the woes of reality and transform you somewhere else. For Winnie, for as long as she could remember, sleep was a time when she could chance sleepwalking and the prospect was just as equally terrifying as the last. She could remember when she was a little girl, her mother would securely tuck her into bed and she would feel so warm and safe underneath that blanket. If she thought hard about it, she could still remember the way it smelled washed in that fabric softener her mother always bought. Once tucked in, her mother would place a kiss on the crown of her golden head and whisper "good night" before disappearing from the room completely. Moonlight slipped through the curtains onto her face. Instead of counting sheep, she counted the twinkles in the night sky as she was lulled to sleep.

But no dreams ever came during those nights. There was only darkness, this void that felt like a daze that she was lost in until slowly she was being pulled out of. It would take a few moments to comprehend but she'd realize that she wasn't in her bed anymore. Sleep blinked out of her eyes and she would find that she was standing in her backyard . . . or the driveway . . . or on those rare and terrifying occasions, somewhere in the woods behind her house. No memory of how she got there, crawling back into her bed shivering and scared. When her mother found out, she tried to get her help, but how do you explain a perfectly normal little girl sleepwalking? You look at her schizophrenic mother and make assumptions apparently.

The Gilded Hand knew why. It took a madman taking her as a child, taking all of the special children like her, and locking them away in an abandoned factory, to tell her that she had a unique ability that went beyond the human scope. Winnie had that ability to connect with the dead who had trouble crossing over. She was a beacon of light to the spirits who were lost and confused. They would be attracted to her like a moth to a flame, trying to reach out to her, to her light, and use it as a means of finally crossing over. The trouble was, that a little girl didn't always realize that her imaginary friends were ghosts, and she didn't know how to help them. And her mother? Well, maybe she worried that these friends she saw were all part of a sickness that she passed down to her, so she was hardly any help to her daughter.

Sometimes the spirits took it too far though, but was it something that they could really help either? After spending time walking the earth alone and unseen by the living, finding someone like Winnie was overwhelming for them and they found themselves desperate. They found that they couldn't just talk to her but possess her for a short amount of time. They felt the warmth of life again in her body - what it felt like to breathe air into their lungs, the warmth of a summer night, the taste of food again. They tried not to let any harm come to her, especially when she was a child, but the stress of being possessed would cause her body to reject the souls and she would end up sleepwalking wherever she was left alone again.

As she grew older, she was able to take back some control again. There were no more imaginary friends but spirits who needed her help and she tried to do just that before it affected her sleeping habits, but it couldn't always be stopped. The world was full of lost souls, unfortunately. Winnie had been terrified that Eddie would find her in the compromising position of wandering outside in a sleeping daze until he finally had. Maybe it scared him too, but...instead of rejecting her...he was there for her. That meant more to him than he would ever know. For a girl who never felt completely safe when she was laying in her bed trying to sleep, just him accepting that part of her made her feel that much better about her ability, about her whole self in general.

Tonight, as it felt like she was having one of those dreamless nights again, her eyes flung open in a panic. She was met with darkness that made her heart race, only imagining in those first few seconds where she could have ended up tonight if Eddie hadn't stopped her from leaving first if he had even been awake to notice. Relief was quick to sink in when she realized her blues were staring up at the ceiling and she turned her head to find Eddie sound asleep next to her. She hadn't realized her hand had clenched the drawstring to her hoodie, quickly releasing her grip as tension died down from the realization that her dreamless sleep was just that . . . a dreamless sleep, nothing more, nothing less.

Winnie turned over on her side, body shifting closer to Eddie so that she could feel the warmth of his body against her own. Something about that feeling . . . it made her feel safe and secure, just like when her mother tucked her underneath that blanket smelling of sweet fabric softener and kissing her on the head. Safe. She leaned her head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes before the tears could escape them.

❝ You're my armor, ❞ she whispered so quietly that she wouldn't have even thought she said them if she knew she hadn't. ❝ You make me feel safe when I shut my eyes and I'm scared about what's going to happen when I fall asleep. I know nothing will happen anymore because of you. ❞

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

//Richard randomly after being dead silent for a month or so:

[byanyan]

ㅤfront-facing camera on, they're holding their phone up in front of their face with one hand, a makeup brush clutched in the other. dusting a bright pink glitter shadow over top the base of shimmery white already set across the center of their lids, their head tilts back slightly to better catch the light while their gaze remains firmly on the screen. a few moments pass and the brush's movements come to a halt, byan turning their face at a couple different angles in order to check the coverage. seemingly content, they cross their arm over their front, elbow propped up on the surface of the table, and they make to begin repeating the process on their other eye. catching a glimpse of someone nearby watching them before the brush makes contact, however, they draw to a pause, attention finally shifting from the mirrored image of their face.

ㅤㅤ" ...what? "ㅤan eyebrow quirks, unbothered yet almost critical of the other for staring, like they're not the weird one for sitting here and doing their makeup in such an open, public space.ㅤ" never seen someone doin' their makeup before? goddamn. i gotta look good for my fight later, you got a problem with that? "

[chibikinesis]

.

[sysig]

I have made

the rough

of an improv card game

[rampxnt]

open starter - muse is new: fitz from scandal pretty much - potus / affair - 51 m/f @indiestarter​

after earlier’s screaming match over the west wing phone, he didn’t expect his agent to say ‘mr. president, they’re here.’ he had missed them and longed for them as if it had been an eternity. after clearing their entry to the man and returning to look down at his files, he heard their shoes press with each step onto the floor of the oval - he couldn’t help but grin at the feeling of their presence. ‘ they’re still mad ‘ he thought. dropping the files, he walked around to the front of his desk at a weary pace and locked eyes with them. he made sure to maintain that eye contact as he leaned against the wood, the corner of his lips still slightly pulled up. a few moments passed and a “hi..” slipped out of his mouth in a soft tone. 

[littlehighs]

open to anyone. connection ideas: ex-friend, fwb, ex, etc.

"you've gotta be KIDDING ME. no, get out. i told you weren't invited.”

[the-haunted-office]

Shadow Stanley stands there making this gesture, although it is impossible to tell, on account of him being a silhouette:

He seems to be asking for something, but what is anybody's guess.

[lovesvenom]

open to: m/f/nonbinary muse: olivia cho. 35. submissive. bisexual. cis female. heavily sheltered daughter associated with the cho criminal organization. connection: your muse is her bodyguard/dating her sister/dating her father etc and rejected olivia’s advances. but there’s definitely some tension between the two. age gaps welcome either way.

“you know, i’m really starting to take this personally.” olivia’s cheek is smushed against the pillow she’s laid against. doe brown eyes bat eyelashes up at the other who was now standing after she’d attempted once more to take things further. “what is it, are you just not interested? because you never explicitly said that last time.” but maybe she shouldn’t be trying to play the long game here. “do you just think i’m ugly?”

[deathxproof]

accidentally managed to get myself a 3 day weekend, and while one of those days is accounted for for Spooky Behaviors, I’m hoping to spend some of the other two getting some writing and stuff done here >:3c maybe also make a few silly little sketches for muse purposes. who’s to say. my aspirations are always lofty the day before a weekend.

[corkinavoid]

I'm pretty sure this has been done before (and several times), but brain going brrr, so

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids

Bruce doesn't even get to say anything when the door to his study opens with a slam against the wall, and before he knows it, he gets an armful of kids. As in, a bouquet of them.

"I'm so done," John Constantine breathes out, raspy and exhausted, looking like a trainwreck incarnate. Granted, the man always looked like one, but right now, the effect has been greatly worsened. The dark circles under John's eyes are, in fact, black, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in at least a week.

Bruce looks down to the small gaggle of children in his lap that he caught in his hands by sheer reflex.

All three of them look up at him with identical, sky blue eyes. They could be twins if it was not for their obviously different ages - the girl looks no older than three, while the boys are probably around five and six.

The older boy scrunches his nose. The girl pouts, but it looks directed at Constantine rather than at him.

Bruce looks back to John, a silent question in his eyes.

"They are- Well, not mine, for starters," the man begins, placing his hands on the table right over the sheets and documents, and leans on it, hanging his head down. Then, he raises one hand up and waves it in the air, "Not yours either, thank the Gods for that." He takes a deep breath.

Bruce's eyebrows raise all the way up to his hairline. The girl starts trying to wiggle out of his hands, but the middle boy holds her back, keeping her in Bruce's lap. She pouts harder.

"And you've brought them here why?" Bruce breaks the stretched out silence, gently repositioning the kids into a more comfortable hold. John raises his head up at him, and the magician's eyes look straight up pleading.

"You're the only person I know of who is, one, a parent, two, acquainted with supernatural, three, a man of great patience, and four, owes me a favor." Constantine lists off reasons that don't really make sense all together, especially regarding kids. Then he thinks for a moment and adds, "Five, owes a shitton of liquor."

"John, what-"

"Listen, I've been dealing with them for a week, I'm at my limit," Constantine interrupts him, desperate and close to whining, "I haven't slept in more than three consecutive hours for days. I don't remember the last time I ate. Or took a shower."

Yes, Bruce can see that. Or, rather, smell it. But that answers none of his questions as to who, why, and how.

"I would kill for a bath," John admits, like it's some sort of a secret. The middle boy opens his mouth, but Constantine points an accusing finger at him, "No, the puddle of melted ghost ice does not count for a bath. And don't come at me with your death puns."

The child rolls his eyes but closes his mouth back and slumps. Bruce resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only because he is holding three kids. His hands are full, quite literally.

"John, I need you to explain," he asks, somewhere between a demand and a careful inquiry. Because, really, the man looks on the brink of losing his sanity, that much is evident. Bruce might not like the man, but he can at least partially sympathize with dealing with kids.

His bare minimum of sympathy - and isn't it a bizarre thought, emotionally sympathizing with John Constantine of all people - does not ease his growing worry and irritation. The girl starts trying to get out of his hold again.

John takes a very deep breath, holds it, and then-

"I stole them," he says, looking Bruce dead in the eye, with a sense of resigned, if a bit unhinged, determination. And, before Bruce is able to ask literally anything else, he keeps going, "Their parents are shit, a branch of government is out for their guts - as in, literal guts - there was- there is a backdoor to the afterlife in their basement, and also they are dead and because of some Realms fuckery and their spiritual granddad being a huge pain in the ass, they are all wrong ages."

Bruce blinks. Then blinks again. Processing that sentence turns out to be a lot harder than he estimated.

The oldest kid in his lap gives John a middle finger, nearly sneering. The girl starts snickering, somehow making it soundless.

"Oh, and they are under a silence charm because if I hear one more references to fucking Ghostbusters I will shoot myself," Constantine finishes matter-of-factly.

Distantly, Bruce wonders if John can make that spell into some sort of an amulet. God knows, Dick really needs one sometimes. Steph does, too. And Jason. Actually, all of them need one.

He looks over the kids again. They don't seem scared or unsettled, neither by the fact they are sitting in a lap of a stranger nor by Constantine's bullet point version of a summary to their lives. They mostly just look annoyed and grumpy, and a bit embarrassed in case of the middle boy.

Bruce sighs and decides to start somewhere.

"Do they have names?"

[part 2 ->]