#marion starter

[thehazbins]

"I'm- n̵̢̢̝̪̺̭̤͈̳̹̺̞͖̒́͌͆o̵̢̳̖̠͉̱͛ͅt̴̨̢̢̤͕̬̝͕̺̗̯͕̼͗̌̃̆́͂̒̋͜ taking the fucking deal! So if you're back to offer that bullshit again... just 𐌋𐌄𐌀ᕓ𐌄!" She spun around, some of her anger subsiding as she realized this was not the same person she was speaking to before. "Oh- sorry. You're not-- nevermind."

[shootingxstardust]

The Nightmare wouldn't let this dream finish as usual.. This person had enough... Marion had sensed it, this person had been plagued by bad dreams before, they needed a break. "Do.. You dream about these things often?" The god asked in a low, but not weak, tone.

[vntagetee]

﹙requested starter.﹚marion + joe for @pinksopaque

“i  swear  we  know  each  other  from  somewhere.  name’s  i’m  terrible  with,  but  i  rarely  forget  a  face.  oh,  do�� you  take  hot  yoga  at  that  place  on  seventh  and  grand?”

[lcngliive]

hw mini event six || the valentines gala marion & lu junyi ( @mvsicinthedvrk )

"I still don't get the idea behind whatever holiday this is, but it's quite lovely," marion was still adjusting to being alive again, and in a place that was completely different to what she'd grown up in.

[infcinity]

marion & mary ( @drvcxrys )

"2023, huh," marion's brow furrowed as she looked at the date on the newspaper she was currently holding. "so much for it being 1957," it was a strange feeling to see that date - but she'd seen several strange things already in her life. but all marion wanted was to be at home with her family. she was sure that indy would be worried that something had happened and sure that mutt would be worried as well.

[avictimofthejazz]

The Cake Fiasco--Elsie Marion

@unyieldingvalxr​

“Elsie?” Murphy steps into the kitchen uncertainly, his eyes roving over the pile of broken eggs and general mess that has taken the room over. “How’s the… uh… cake going?” He is no cooking expert, but he feels none of this disaster indicates that it is going ‘well’, so to speak. However, he also has no desire to start a quarrel with his sister, particularly if she is already stressed out and angry at her creation going awry. Admittedly, she has taken a large project onto her hands, but she always been able to pull crazy things out of her hat in the past. Picking up the handful of shells, he goes to deposit them in the garbage. “You know, if you want to admit defeat and ask for help, you always can.” He points out patiently. Granted, asking Elsie to admit defeat is like asking the Mississippi to flow backwards. Still, it needs to be said. Wiping his hands off on a towel, he awaits his sister’s reply. Whatever answer he gets from her will indicate how deeply into this mess she has gotten… and how much help she needs, if any, to get herself back out.

[moonbeammuses]

Like if I can write you starters from Marion, AKA Moonlight. My Rules || My About || Bio Page 

While Marion is primarily a mutant, I will attempt to utilize an AU for whatever verse your muse is from in the starters I write. If you prefer a specific time/verse, contact me. Starters could be any length, depending how familiar I am with your muse, and my current inspiration. You are never required or expected to reply to a random starter.  

[marionmaverick]

[ BLOOM ]:          sender weaves a number of flowers through the receiver’s hair. / from laurel. get floral, dork

It likely showed how distracted Marion was that he didn't notice Laurel sneaking up behind him with the flowers. Possibly how sleep deprived as well, as it wasn't till he leaned forward and couldn't move that he finally realized.

"Wha- Laurel?" He squawked. "What are you doing with my hair??"

[slicedmayonnaise]

Assigning RDR2 Characters Starter Pokemon

Dutch Van Der Linde- Charmander

Hosea Matthews- Squirtle

Arthur Morgan- Bulbasaur

John Marston- Chimchar

Charles Smith- Turtwig

Javier Escuella- Finnekin

Marion "Bill" Williamson- Fuecoco

Lenny Summers- Rowlet

Sean Macguire- Grookey

Josiah Trelawny- Popplio

Kieran Duffy- Mudkip

Uncle- Quaxly

Simon Pearson- Tepig

Orville Swanson- Froakie

Leopold Strauss- Snivy

Micah Bell- Treecko

Jack Marston- Pikachu (it's the only one he knows)

Abigail Roberts Marston- Torchic

Sadie Adler- Cyndaquil

Tilly Jackson- Chikorita

Mary Beth Gaskill- Eevee

Karen Jones- Litten

Molly O'Shea- Sprigatito

Susan Grimshaw- Scorbunny

Lmk your thoughts

[mercurygray]

Hi Merc! How do you feel about prompt nr 16 (daybreak) for my Clubmobile girls? Doesn't have to be anything romantic if you're not vibing with it, just the girls

Thank you 💜

- your Fred Friend

I hope this works for you, Fred Friend!

Technically, it was Mary's fault.

Mission days were always early starts - 3:00 a.m. to roll out of bed in the old, crumbling mansion the Red Cross was renting for them, and pull the truck out from the shed to be on the road and catch the end of the 5:30 am run on the equipment shed with hot coffee and a mix of yesterday's leftovers and today's starter batch, usually too doughy as the oil came up to temperature.

It was cold out before the sun came up, and they kept the windows of the truck closed while they started the oil and heated the urns for coffee, the small space cramped but warm enough, with the four of them and the fryers going. Moods were infectious, in a small space like this, and Tatty seemed to have slept on the wrong side of the bed the way she was banging pans and slamming doors and grumbling about how she'd like to shoot the man who invented early mornings and gas stoves that wouldn't light.

Anyway, she was a little ridiculous, like early mornings had only just been invented and they hadn't been doing this for months on end, and Mary had started humming, and then Helen was doing it too, and by the time the tune got to Fred it had harmony and a rhythm section with the tongs and a measuring cup until Tatty turned around, blazing, and Fred could only grin.

"Oh, she kicked out my windshield," she started, still drumming along with the tongs, and the rest picked up, "And she hit me over the head She cussed and cried and said I lied And she wished that I was dead! Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down."

The coin could have fallen on either side, but Tatty, it seemed, had complained enough for one morning. She rolled her eyes and declared she was going to let the mess hall know they were here, leaving the three of them to open the windows, still laughing about their improvised jam session.

It seemed they already had a customer - or an audience. Captain Brennan was waiting in the half-light of dawn with a cup of coffee already in hand and a clipboard under her arm, uniform beautiful and crisp. (She was always well dressed, whether by habit or practice - all the girls said so. Not too many women could make the green and pinks look chic, but by god, would Marion Brennan try.)

"You're all very chipper this morning," the intelligence officer observed, waiting a respectful distance away as they rolled up the windows and started putting out the doughnut racks.

"Sorry, ma'am," Helen offered quietly. (Brennan intimidated her, for reasons Fred couldn't ever quite understand - but then, perhaps she was a little intimidating, with her beautiful hair and her rank and her surety about her station. And how many other women were walking around air bases with captain's bars and the complete trust of the C.O.? Brennan's word was law and her good opinion gold.)

Brennan chuckled, her smile rare and warm. "Why are you apologizing? It's good to see smiles this early."

"Get you a fresh cup, Captain?" Mary asked, gesturing with the pot she was holding.

"You may, Mary, thank you." Brennan shook the remnants out of her cup and onto the grass, and offered Mary the now-empty mug. "If we're being honest, I like your coffee more than I do the mess hall's."

"Isn't it a little early for you, ma'am?" Fred asked, leaning over the window holding the sugar shaker so the Captain could help herself. It was only the flight officers in the earliest briefings, pilots and bombardiers and navigators, and Brennan certainly wasn't one of them. (Any minute now they'd all be done suiting up, and those doors would open and the whole lot of them would begin the hike out to the trucks that would take them out to the hardstands.)

"You know what they say about early birds and worms. I need to review today's run with Major Bowman, after they've sent them all out so I can brief my team. And we have photos from yesterday's run to review and send on to wing."

"Those worms won't know what hit them," Fred replied with a smile. Another smile from Brennan.

"What worms now?" Colonel Harding appeared from the direction of the briefing hut, hat tucked under his arm, Jack Kidd following close behind him.

"The worms the group's going to bomb today, sir," Mary offered, holding out a fresh mug. "Coffee for you? Major Kidd, some coffee?"

"Thank you, Mary. Mighty kind." Harding took it and drank deeply before anyone could offer powdered milk or sugar, watching as Kidd stepped away to speak with Brennan.

The song was still stuck in Fred's head as she continued setting the mugs and doughnuts out for service, glancing up to see Harding's face in the dim of daybreak, watching the conversation between his XO and his intelligence captain with an expression that Fred thought she would call pride, and, in another space and a different light, perhaps something like love.

Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down.

[thehazbins]

🍎 "hey. I like your spunk girl. You seem rebellious just like I was at one time. Interesting. " 🐍

-lucifer ( @hells-ringleader )

@hells-ringleader

"Hey-- Thanks." She smirked and ran a hand through her hair. Quirking an eyebrow. "When you've spent your adult life being ordered around like a child, you tend to rebel..." The doll-like demon tilted her head. "At one time. Why not anymore?"

[shootingxstardust]

Okay, how about a starter call! No cap. I'm mostly feeling, Marion, Rose, Mato, Klonoa, and Rock! Maybe Goji as well.

[vntagetee]

marion crane / tags

[lcngliive]

marion & alison ( @devilsmenu )

"is it a common thing for people to be brought to this place?" she asked, looking at the other. "it's so strange,"

[infcinity]

marion & benedict ( @recklcssabandon )

"you have got to be kidding me," marion sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. things had only just gotten back to normal at home after everything with the crystal skulls and now something else had happened? "you haven't seen a guy around here called indiana jones, have you? or maybe even henry jones junior." she was sure that her husband wouldn't appreciate being called that.

[likerealpeopledo-on-ao3]

Thanks for the tag @stereopticons.

Marion Johnson read aloud as he, Luis, Tim and Hawk sat gathered around the clubhouse dining table, poring over the recently published article in Baseball Digest.

“‘If the mild-mannered, spectacle-wearing Traveler’s starter Tim Laughlin is the league’s Clark Kent, then his team captain and seasoned catcher, Hawkins Fuller, is Superman. More than one female fan has lamented that Fuller’s gorgeous, notoriously clean-shaven face is unfairly obscured by the cage of a catcher’s mask, but perhaps the mask prevents mere mortals from reading what’s really happening behind those piercing blue eyes. In fact, after spending a few days with Fuller’s Superman, one begins to sense that this version may have been written by Kerouac or Camus, baseball’s antihero for the ages.’”

Hawk leaned back in his chair, voice casual, but his palms had definitely started to sweat. “Hmm, an antihero, huh? That’s one way to spin it.”

Ignoring him, Marion went on. “‘Fuller names Sandy Koufax as his baseball hero, not due to his record or talent, but primarily due to his ability to remain fiercely private. Dressed impeccably in clothing that likely costs more than a sports reporter’s annual salary, the charming, witty, and engaging Hawkins Fuller can talk for upwards of three hours at a stretch, but once he’s tucked himself into his Porsche 928 and driven away, you realize that your notebook is empty.’”

“None of this is going to stop women from throwing their panties at you on game days, Hawk, so don’t worry,” Luis offered with a quirk of his brow.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. Do the women bring extra underwear to throw on the field or are they taking them off right there in the stands?,” asked a horrified Tim. “Those poor bat boys.”

“What about poor me?”

“After this article, Hawk, I don’t know how much more sympathy is in your future.” Marion kept reading. “‘If you ask Hawk, he plays baseball because he can. The son of former Phillies owner, Horace, and All-American Girls League great, Estelle, some might say that Fuller was born with a silver bat in his mouth.’”

“No one would ever say that…born with a silver bat. That’s preposterous.” Tim was indignant on Hawk’s behalf, which was sweet, but wholly unnecessary. “This is a hatchet job.”

“Down, Killer.” Hawk patted Tim’s arm lightly despite the rock sitting in the pit of his stomach. He’d intended to fly under the radar and this felt…too close to the sun for his liking, but the beauty of baseball was that the season was so long that he could blend easily into the background soon enough. “It’s good. Really. Publicity is publicity.”

Tagging @jesterlesbian @lispenardsstreet @beyondxmeasure @redmyeyes and anyone else who wants to post WIPs!