#marion starter

[eldritchxembers]

For: Anyone | @cardinalstart (cap of 3) - CLOSED Character: Marion Graves Location: The Park Note: Marion is Deaf. He wears a cochlear implant for the ease of those around him. He has lived in Cardinal Hill for five years now, it can be assumed that people know about his CI.

Marion sat on a weathered stone bench in the town park, the early afternoon sun casting long shadows across the grass. His dog, always watchful, rested at his feet, eyes scanning the park as though the world itself was a puzzle to be solved. In his hands, Marion held a worn map—an intricate sketch of the park’s landscape, dotted with possible locations for next year’s garden. His brow furrowed as he studied the lines and contours, tracing them with his fingers as if he could feel the land itself beneath his touch.

The soft hum of his cochlear implant pulsed against his head, a constant reminder of the world he wore just a little too tightly. The device felt foreign today, the pressure of it unsettling—like it was trying to invade the silence he craved, forcing its presence into the spaces where he preferred quiet. He tried to ignore it, but the buzzing at the back of his mind kept him on edge, pulling his focus away from the map. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this aware of it, this aware of everything. The implant was supposed to bridge the gap, but it often left him feeling more disconnected, the noise of the world too close, too overwhelming.

The trees around him swayed in the wind, their leaves whispering secrets only the patient could hear. He paused, glancing up for a moment to let his eyes take in the scene: children running through the grass, a couple walking hand-in-hand, an old man reading a newspaper on a nearby bench. But all of it seemed distant, as though he were watching it from a place just outside of reach. Marion returned his attention to the map, his fingers moving slowly across the paper, already thinking of the space he could carve into the earth next spring. It wasn’t just about planting; it was about creating something that would grow and breathe—something that would outlast him.

The dog shifted at his feet, sensing the subtle shift in Marion’s mood, and nudged his hand gently. Marion didn’t look up, but the motion was enough to remind him that he wasn’t truly alone. He’d been here long enough to know the map’s every fold and crease, yet there was something about an outside perspective that always felt necessary. A second set of eyes, someone who could point out the things he might have missed, to see what his mind couldn’t quite pull together.

For now, though, he waited. He always waited, because a new idea, a fresh perspective, might just be the spark that turned everything into place. The park around him continued its quiet hum—life continuing as it always did, while Marion’s thoughts wove through the land, his hand tracing the edges of future possibilities. And all the while, the quiet tension of the implant buzzed in his ears, keeping him sharp, but also reminding him of the noise that never seemed to fade.

[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.

[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.

[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!

[theherdhasbeenculled]

DESTINY

[ a lil starter for @atallephoculary ]

In the Montana mountains, a rainy morning paints the landscape in shades of gray and green. Mist flowing in the rugged peaks as raindrops dance off the pine leaves, creating a soothing symphony. Puddles form, reflecting the dreary sky, while streams began to flow from the rocks with newfound vigor across the roadways, mud puddles just awaiting a victim to step in them. Despite the downpour, there's an undeniable beauty, a resilience that defines mountain life. It was normal for the eldest Seed brother to rise earlier than the sun and commence his duties.

In the quiet solitude of his mountain home, Jacob stirred reluctantly from his sleep. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly opened his eyes, greeted not by the warmth of the sun, but by the dim light filtering through the clouded sky. Echoes of gunfire and the distant rumble of explosions seemed to reverberate in the stillness of the morning, a haunting reminder of the past he could never fully escape.

Pulling himself from the embrace of his bed, Jacob moved with a stiffness bred from old injuries and unspoken traumas. The familiar ache in his bones served as a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his years of service, not to mention the scarred tissue to add insult to the injury. With each step, he traversed the familiar terrain of his home, the solitude of the mountains offering both solace and isolation. Outside, the world awaited, but within the confines of his sanctuary, Jacob found himself reluctant to face the day ahead, for him, waking up was not a cause for celebration, but rather a reminder of the battles he still fought within himself. Yet, somehow he managed to pull himself up every day to heed the wishes of his beloved brother and prophet Joseph, something he would be grateful for, a purpose.

After a cup of coffee in the quiet of his kitchen, he then decided to check his phone. It was a text from a few of the cultists who had done reconnaissance on the police station, it would seem the new deputy sheriff was settled in nicely. A clank of his coffee mug on the marble countertop, he slid it aside as he stood and grabbed his coat. It was about time he was able to put a name to the face, there had been rumors of her. tenacious, stubborn and allegedly scary, which only intrigued him that much more. Puddled mud splashed around Jacob’s military boots, the sludging trail to his truck wasn’t unfamiliar to him and given the circumstances he had been through in life, mud was hardly as appalling to him as most.

The drive was calming, the pitter patter of raindrops beaming against his windshield in different directions as he picked up speed. There was a surrealness to driving in the rain, something he always looked forward to when it came to spring. It was easy to get lost in it, which made the drive the drive seem shorter than it was, and now he arrived at the sheriff station. Usually, when it would rain, a normal person would park close to the building but… Jacob didn’t. instead, he parked in the corner of the lot and began his walk to the main entrance. Each raindrop felt like heaven, the heat however was only threatening humidity. With each step, the puddles splashed under the power of his weight against the concrete, the water rinsing his previously mudded boots that now left a sleek shine, almost as if they were new but from the scuffs it was clear they’d been abused.

The door swung open briefly to allow him to step in, a cautious gaze around the office told him that it was a slow day, but without breaking his stride, he began to walk further into the building while whipping both of his hands at the wrist to rid it of stray water droplets. “I’m looking for Marion Fuller.” When he spoke, each word reverberated with richness and depth, carrying a weight that demanded attention, which he got. It wasn’t uncommon for the locals to shake like leaves when it came to Jacob, in the dim light of the room, the intimidating figure stood like a colossus, but it wasn't just his physical presence that was made them look away; it was the faint yet unmistakable burn scars that marred a quarter of his face, trailing down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. They spoke of a past marked by fire and pain, leaving behind a haunting reminder of battles fought and wounds endured. The secretary, who Jacob had stood before gestured to the door he would need to go through, the shakiness in her hand only caused a faint smile to appear beneath his scruffy beard.

The sound of his footsteps thundered through the seemingly quiet building, it was eerily quiet but of course it was early and there wasn’t too much noise. The door however, seemed to creak open so painfully loud that a wince formed on his face as he stepped through. His eyes landed on the deputy, which he was shocked she wasn’t older. “huh” he slipped out.

Most criminals would be shaken by standing in front of authority, but Jacob stood mere feet away from the newly appointed sheriff deputy unphased and seemingly confrontational, however he instead offered his hand. “Miss Fuller, my name is Jacob Seed. I’d like to formally introduce myself and let you know that as head of security for Eden’s Gate, if you need anything, I’m the one to come to.” Although innocent enough, there's a coldness to his tone, a calculated precision that leaves no doubt as to the subtly of his threat if it were to be looked for. It's the voice of someone who knows how to wield intimidation, using it to instill fear and assert dominance without needing to raise his voice.

[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,"