#open angst starter

[exquisitexagony]

open to all relationship: friend/close friend plot: Sami's been acting quiet and irritable all day, pretty touchy about anything your muse has said to him, he keeps saying nothing is wrong but it's obvious that he's not OK...your muse is finally fed up and demanding answers

"I told you I'm fine, stop asking." The words tumbled out of Sami's mouth with a bite, tired of the other asking them what was wrong. They just wanted to spend time with them in silence at this point. The constant badgering was just too much.

"Don't you think I'd tell you if something was wrong?"

[cursedvessels]

Open Starter Context: Your muse is torturing mine for information of some sort. Your decision what that might be. Some examples might be a missing person/persons, something they saw at the circus, Shimi's powers, other entities controlled by the Ringmaster, etc....Anything goes really.

"I don't know what you want me to say!" A shaky breath as Sam's voice scraped against xyr throat. Xe spit more blood onto the ground, messy curls hanging in front of his black and blue face.

"I told you what I know...If that isn't enough, you're going to have to find somebody else to torture, because I don't. Know anything." His eyes lifted to meet the others' like daggers, his blood-stained lips pressed together tightly. This wasn't Shimi's first time being tortured. There were plenty of people wanting to know eir master's secrets. Plenty of people who felt threatened by eir power. Like anyone else, though, this person did not know eir weaknesses. They could not possibly get under his skin. No one ever had. Still, even if they could get him to talk, he truly had little to say. There was only so much the Ringmaster would tell him, after all.

Swallowing back more blood, Shimi lifted their chin, tilting their head to the side as if to allow the other to strike yet again.

"Go on, then...Hit me again." Their eyes flashed bold green, darkness welling behind their features. there was something almost masochistic in the way they looked at the other. "And again. And again. And again," he hissed through clenched teeth, anger swelling to the surface as he leaned forward. "But it won't change anything!" A pause, slowly shaking his head. "I told you all I know."

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write angst ?

@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)

know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)

decide on the type of angst you are going for!

major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.

and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.

are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.

moving on to actually writing it-

Tip 1 - Use sensory details.

her eyes brimmed with tears

his chest heaved

pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt

his scream pierced my heart

her lips quivered

she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)

show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.

Tip 2 - how to actually write it.

If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.

use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.

the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.

what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?

there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.

Tip 3 - crying.

what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?

what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?

make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.

while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.

focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.

have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head

best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);

3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)

Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.

there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.

and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)

Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)

[bookished]

( a collection of starters. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

“Every time I see you, it feels like the first time all over again.” “We shouldn’t be here together, you know that.” “I can’t live without you, no matter how hard I try.”

“Why do you keep doing this to me? To us?” “Because I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t act like I don’t care.” “I can’t stop loving you. It’s tearing me apart.”

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” “It has to be. We’re only hurting each other.” “Even now, I can’t stop loving you.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.” “You should have stayed away.” “I tried. God knows I tried.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong.” “Then why does it feel so right?” “Because I can’t stop loving you, no matter the consequences.”

“I found this letter in your drawer. Why didn’t you send it?” “I couldn’t bear the thought of you knowing.” “Knowing what? That you can’t stop loving me?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” “Please, don’t. It’ll only make things harder.” “I have to. I can’t stop loving you, and you deserve to know.”

“I hate you for what you’ve done.” “I know, and I’m so sorry.” “Why did you have to make me fall for you?”

“You’re crying. Why?” “Because I know this has to end.” “Even if it does, I won’t stop loving you.”

[songbirdreaped]

open starter for anybody ; set after lucy gray left the cabin <3 run. run. RUN. was all that could go through lucy gray's head as she sprinted away from the cabin through the trees. she was running as fast as her legs would carry her, everything in her telling her that she needed to get away from him if she wanted to survive. the words kept ringing in her head three's enough for me, he'd told her when she said they wouldn't have to kill anymore. three. she knew of two. bobbin and mayfair. all she'd asked for was the truth, yet she was met with a lie. my old self, coriolanus had told her as she demanded to know who the third was. lucy gray wasn't born yesterday, she could spot a lie from a mile away.

trust was the most important thing to her. trust outweighed love and yes, she had loved him. loved. now, all she could picture was those icy blue eyes gazing into her soul. would he kill her ? she didn't know, but she wasn't taking that chance. she couldn't take that chance. that was why she'd said she was going to pick katniss, her chance to escape and survive. lucy gray wished that she'd heeded dean highbottom's warning, wished that she hadn't let herself fall for the blond. any and all love she felt was gone, now all that was left was the need to flee.

as she kept running, the brunette felt her chest tightening, the crisp air filling her lungs, stinging as her heart raced in her chest. she needed to stop and catch her breath. ducking behind a tree, lucy gray took a moment, the breaths coming out more like gasps as she stayed there. the sound of coriolanus yelling for her caused her to panic more. she wasn't a fighter, he outpowered her anyway, but she could run. she could hide.

when she spotted the snake, lucy gray decided that she'd try to buy herself some time, dropping the scarf he'd given her to cover it up. she knew by looking at it that the snake wasn't venomous, it wouldn't hurt him too badly if he got bitten. it would just slow him down enough for her to get away. after the distraction was set, the brunette began to run again, hoping that the wind in the trees would cover up any noise that came from her feet on the ground.

it wasn't until she was hidden by a tree on the outer part of the woods that she'd realized her earring had fallen out in all of the chaos. she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. the games weren't over when she'd returned home, these were still the games. her own survival was what mattered. lucy gray almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming toward her, but when she did it was too late to run. whoever it was had only been two paces from her now, and with how tired she was, they'd most likely be able to catch her if she ran. her eyes shut tightly as she braced herself for the figure to come closer, assuming it was coriolanus coming to kill her, to finish tying up the loose ends.

❝ just get it over with, ❞ the words came out more shaky than she'd intended. she wasn't usually one for giving up, but she knew that she had no more energy to keep running. if coriolanus had found her, then he won.

[who-tf-eats-their-children]

Open Starter - Sins Of Thy Father

Some days, Kronos wondered if it would have just been easier to consume his children. It would have certainly meant less crying, less bumps and bruises, less lectures, less frustration, less parenting. It's not like it would be a surprise, given the fact that he had been 'oh so willing' to cut their father into a thousand pieces and cast them deep into Khaos, and how 'natural' he seemed to look covered in ichor (Primordial Hemera's words, not his), but in those thoughts, he also wonders how he'll be able to look his beloved wife in the eye. If he'd be able to keep up that act, playing the innocent or leaning so far into it he'd lose everything just to give into that darkness his father carved deep into him. "You are a lot like me," he'd say those very few times he'd allow them Above and one of those fewer times he'd let his children into his presence, and even now Kronos can't push down the utter disgust that came from that thought. But... he also can't seem to stand the waiting. The paranoia, jumping at every shadow and twisting and turning each night waiting for his father to get one over on him again. He's the King of the Cosmos now, but it seems like even a King has their own King puppeteering them. What a joke (and oh how easy it would be).

You are roaming--or possibly seeking--when you spot him sitting on a supposedly random mountain in the middle of nowhere (the first and last place Kronos dared speak against his father). There is nothing to his expression or aura, but you feel yourself being tugged his direction anyway. He's sitting on the grass, facing the sunset, looking perhaps... mortal. Manly. Human.

What do you do?

@daonedaonlysk @aura-of-the-winds @least-favorite-hades-kid @littlest-sunbeam-of-hermes @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @xolues-child-of-aelous @unhinged-waterlilly @overlyprotectiveheadcounselor @another-argo @ravensonofdionysus. Once again, the taglist is simply made up of people that seem interested/I've interacted with before, so please feel free to tell me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist :))

[giggly-squiggily]

things are kinda very hard rn and the dabble made my day infinitely better so if you don't mind i'll send in another one - "Aren't you tired of fighting?" with uzusane pretty please, but only if you wanna ofc ♡���

{Puffs are now CLOSED!}

*sends all the hugs* Oh Rey- I'm sorry things are hard right now. I hope they get better soon! This one got a weeeee bit angsty (I can't resist with a beautiful prompt like that) but I hope you like it all the same! (If you want something fluffy please feel free to send another prompt-what who said that?)

CW: Angst, Demon Slayer post-ending spoilers

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” The comment came out of nowhere- rattling Sanemi down to his core. “Seriously- don’t you ever want to just sit down and breathe?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His shock shaped into anger, hands trembling into knuckle-white fists as he turned to glare. “You have no idea-”

“You’re blaming yourself.” Tengen’s words cut deep, the tone casual as if he were ordering tea at the shop. “You’re thinking “If I were just stronger. If I got there a second sooner. If I just did things differently, none of this would happen.” You’re wearing yourself down to the bone cause you don’t think you deserve anything less than punishment.” Tengen’s hard glare softened some, a weak smile pulling on his lips. “Am I wrong?”

Sanemi’s anger scattered to the wind, the words like a mirror reflection shoved in his face. He had no defense. Muzan was dead. The demons were gone. And yet..

“I don’t know how.” His strength left with his words, his knees hitting the dirt path beneath him. Was he crying or sweating? His voice sounded thick. “How do you know when it’s finally over?”

A beat of silence. Then a warm hand was on his back, the smell of tea and flash bombs touching his nose and making his eyes water. “You live on. You live and you keep living until the day comes where you find yourself at peace. You live on so those who couldn’t will have something to hear about when you come home to them.” Tengen reached up, wiping at his tears gently. “You live for them. And you live for yourself too.”

Sanemi let out a shaky breath, nodding. He closed his eyes, feeling himself be pulled into Tengen’s chest as let all the things he said sink in. This wasn’t going to be an easy journey- this whole living thing.

“Of course- if you need help from me, you’re always welcome at the Uzui estate! I could use a fourth wife.” Tengen grinned, brightening when he heard Sanemi snort. “What? I think you’d fit right in! I’ll get you a matching outfit- wait, no. The girls might be jealous of your tits.”

“Oh fuhuhck off!” Sanemi laughed, shoving at him as the older man cackled. His chest felt lighter at least.

He was glad to have Tengen in his life.

[richielipschitzaot]

OPEN RP STARTER!

Richie was sitting on a wall outside of Hatchetfield High. It had been raining pretty hard, and whilst it’d calmed down now, he was still getting rained on. He didn’t seem to care, or really notice. He was sitting and staring at the floor, a look of hurt in his eyes. It was way past when they got out of school by now.

[angelsdvsts]

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . open starter: to all ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

♡ muse: ivorie kuang. early-twenties. ♡ plot: childhood best friends turned into lovers except they've broke up, but ivorie promised to be at their graduation.

it was silly of her to show up, it was a promise she made years ago.. sure that they've possibly forgotten about it, but she didn't. despite how they ended, she would always root for them. plan was to watch them walk the stage and leave before being noticed, except it didn't go as planned and ivorie found herself bumping into them on the way out. "well, this is awkward," light chuckle falls from lips, "you weren't meant to see me, but congrats."

[officiallyossy-haywooddent]

August 29th.

This is a fanfic / open rp starter so it’s kinda long. The writing might not be great, sorry.

TW for child death, loss of a sibling, minor mentions of bad parenting, minor drug use, minor toxic relationship

Every year without fail the week of August 25 was maybe the worst week of Ossy’s life. Every year they’d go through the same calls, same arrangements, same people. It never changed, even if their life circumstances did. Every year they would end up with a crown of flowers and a box of Halloween candy, completely and utterly alone.

It had been the same when they were eight and had been flown home from camp to give their testimony to the police. It had been the same when they were twelve, reeling from the loss of their brother and best friend and so, so many others; lost and alone in the middle of New York.

It had gotten worse when Ossy was thirteen, their palm sliced open over a marble altar, clasped in the hand of their best friend somewhere in the wilderness of the Yukon. Being fifteen in Gotham would be no different.

—

August 25.

It began, the preparations; the prayers. They called Frank first. Ossy hadn’t talked to him in years when it had first happened, he’d left the island with his mother to live with his grandmother in Vancouver, and they’d drifted apart.

A three hours on the ferry was a long time to travel to see someone, it wasn’t like they’d been good friends. They’d been five and eight, quietly talking in the forest behind their school every couple of days. That was all, Ossy didn’t think they’d ever speak to him again.

Then came the second war. He was there; they weren’t. He stopped by the med bay, asked where they’d been. They answered. He’d talked with them for hours, but he would always have to leave.

Nevertheless Ossy picked up their phone, dialled his number. They let it ring, once, twice. They hung up. It wasn’t right to bother Frank nowadays, and he hadn’t really known her anyway. Most people hadn’t.

They ordered a bulk box of Halloween candy. It would arrive in two days. They wished it would never come.

—

August 26.

Ossy’d found a place that did rush flower arrangements. They ordered three flower crowns, one for them, two for her. The place they’d gotten it, Belle Flore, was this tiny shop in North Gotham that imported seeds from everywhere in the world and grew all the flowers in a grow room above the store. The clerk, a red-headed guy probably less than a year older than them named Rhys, had been nice about the whole thing, suggesting an arrangement of Pheasants Eye, Prince’s Feather, Baby’s Breath, and Buttercup.

The combination was odd but sweet, symbolic. Buttercup had been her favourite after all. The crowns would be done in three days, the 29th.

Ossy would pick it up in the morning, flowers were always better fresh.

They spend the rest of the day asleep. The tranqs they’d gotten from Peter were nice, though they’d had to ration them out. They’d told him 2 wasn’t gonna be enough.

-

August 27.

Ossy sleeps through the day. They don’t move, but it’s fine. They don’t need to. Sleep is quiet, calming. Hypnos must have taken pity of them, each dream is an altered memory of their life before everything, a kinder one.

-

August 28.

The phone rings five times before going to voicemail, their mums soft voice letting them know to leave a message and that she’d get to it in the morning. She wouldn’t, not when she saw the caller ID.

“Hey, mum. It’s me. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’m..I’m doing something for the 29th. You can always join me, I’ll pay for your flight and everything.”

Ossy pauses, taking a shuddering breath. It’s been a while since they’ve cried properly.

“…I miss you. And Grandpa. I’m sorry..about everything.”

They hang up quickly, regretting every second of it. She’d just delete it when she saw it, she always did. They leave the message anyway.

The package with the candy arrives at the manor, nobody asks what’s in it. Ossy doesn’t know if anyone even noticed it arrive. They request the day off tomorrow from the Deli, Mr. Maroni approves it. He’s been nice since he found out about the mugging, probably thinks they’re still scared of doing the night shift. They are, but they wouldn’t tell him that.

The night roles around and they pop the second half of a tranq. They don’t know if they want to wake up in the morning, sleeping away the 29th doesn’t sound half bad. It would be mean though, she would never have done it. She didn’t sleep, it was genetic. The gene had skipped Ossy.

-

August 29.

At 5:30 AM they show up at Belle Flores, it’s the same clerk, Rhys. He quietly hands over a pastel blue box with a subdued smile. He knows what the crowns are for, they’d told him. It’s easier to talk to strangers about these things.

Ossy stops back at the manor, grabbing the cats before hopping on one of the busses. They need to get out of the city again. Sometimes Gotham, with its constant noise and soaring buildings, felt like a maze. This then made them the rat, trying to find its way out before getting zapped.

The concrete held an energy they could never quite get used too. Ossy missed the blue pine of the salmon and rain forests; trees so large and thick they muffled everything within their shade, where oceans crashed against the conifered cliffs of their piece of home. They’d stolen that line from John Vailant.

The bus pulled to a stop outside a rocky beach. The cats had been quiet for the ride, good travellers. Ossy realized she’d never gotten to meet them.

They set up camp on a fallen log near the tree line, setting up a fence so the cats could be let loose to roam. Two of the flower crowns were laid side by side, the third resting on their head. It was good work, better than either of them had ever been capable of.

Ossy sat there for a while, listening to old songs they had long forgotten the words to, taking two bowls and pouring them full of the candy. It was stale, but that didn’t really matter. Stel had always saved her Halloween candy until Easter. They ate quietly, watching the cats play fight.

Ossy wasn’t sure how long it took for them to break down but they’d like to think it was close to an hour, a respectable amount of time to hold vigil before they imploded.

It was stupid for them to think they’d escaped it, moved past it. Not her death, no, they could never get over that, but being alone each year.

Not even having a picture of the family together. It was starting to get to them. Ossy would never admit it but they were starting to forget her face. People had always said they’d looked similar. They could never believe it. Stel had been good, so much better than any of the rest of them. Ossy would never be sure how she came from a family like theirs. Truth be told, they weren’t even sure what they looked like anymore, but that had little to do with the comparisons.

Ossy pulled out their phone, dialling half the numbers in their phone before deleting each one. They didn’t want to feel the need to explain it all to anyone. Deanna had told them to stop over analyzing their emotions, it wasn’t actually a form of processing apparently.

Finally, they landed on someone they wouldn’t mind calling. The gnawing sensation in their gut growing ever stronger as the phone rang, the soft click of the receiver letting them know there wasn’t really a way back.

“Hey.”

[katherine-fisk]

My aversion to returning to you didn’t stop me from lurking outside your window. Just like that fateful night, I creep under the cover of the darkness below. I’m not sure what I’m searching for, but I do know that a part of me aches to see you again, whether you’re aware of it or not. So, I watch and I wait in silent anticipation for whatever is to come.

- @president-loki-official

For once, Kaya wasn't home. She had been avoiding it, really, after she had punched out her bedroom window. And that was why her car suddenly turned around the corner and into the driveway. She steps out of the car and locks it behind her.

She looked different. Instead of her usual modest choice of clothing, she had chosen a small white top and light-washed shorts. The sunflower cardigan draped over her was see-through. In one hand she held a tote carrying fruit. Her other hand was bandaged up tightly. But most noticeable were the dark circles under her eyes. The red along the whites that indicated either crying or an upage in her cannabis usage. She was hurting. Healing thus far in weeks, but in pain.

@president-loki-official

[distrst]

.☘︎ ݁˖ open to m / f / nb plot: Franny has been working her way up to finally disclosing the existence of her daughter but before she can do so, she wants to know how your muse reacts to children so she’s dropping hints

        “ Wasn’t that little girl adorable ? ”  She gushes with a little squeal of an ‘ Aww ’ before looking over at her partner for a response. She doesn’t really expect much of an answer, let alone one that would definitively distinguish their stance on children, but Franny’s willing to say just about anything without outright asking them.  “ I love kids. They’re just so cute and innocent, you know ? ”

[bookished]

( a collection of starters. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

The old, leather-bound journal was found hidden under the floorboards of the abandoned mansion. Its pages contained cryptic messages and a map that seemed to lead to something of great value—or danger.

In a world where the stars can be plucked from the sky and turned into powerful talismans, a young orphan discovers a constellation that has never been seen before. It points to a destiny that could change the fate of the entire realm.

During the height of the Renaissance, a young artist discovers a hidden chamber in the heart of Florence. Inside, she finds sketches of inventions far beyond her time and a letter addressed to her, written centuries ago.

Two strangers meet on a delayed train during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. As they share stories to pass the time, they realize they have more in common than they ever imagined—and that fate might have brought them together for a reason.

In a small, isolated village, people start to vanish without a trace. The only clue left behind is a symbol carved into the doors of their homes, a mark that matches ancient legends of a vengeful spirit.

In a future where emotions are controlled by the government, a young woman discovers an underground movement that aims to restore true feelings to humanity. She must decide whether to join them or stay in the safety of her regulated life.

Every night, a small café in the city transforms into a magical place where time stands still and dreams come to life. Only a select few know about its existence, and one day, an ordinary person stumbles upon it by accident.

A high school student finds an old camera at a garage sale. When they develop the photos, they see glimpses of the future. Now, they must navigate high school life while trying to change events they know are coming.

"I don't believe in coincidences, especially not ones involving missing people."

"You mean to tell me you've never seen a dragon before? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

"The prophecy spoke of a hero, but I never imagined it would be someone like you."

"This isn't just a piece of space debris; it's a message."

"Our planet was destroyed. We're the last survivors, and we need your help."

"Do you really believe the king will pardon us if we find the lost treasure?"

"She's a woman in a man's world, but she'll change history, mark my words."

"I didn't come here to fall in love; I came to find myself."

"Every letter I wrote to you, I wrote with my heart in my hand."

"That house has been abandoned for years. Why would anyone go inside willingly?"

"The shadows in this place…they move when you're not looking."

"There's a map, but it's missing the most crucial part—the key to decoding it."

"I've been to the highest mountain and the deepest sea, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Freedom is an illusion they sold us to keep us compliant."

"We've been living in a lie. It's time we uncover the truth."

"Every night at midnight, the old clock shop comes alive. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"They say the forest spirits grant wishes, but only to those who ask with pure intentions."

"I found this old diary in the attic, and it’s like it’s talking directly to me."

[sunbecms]

open to anyone! asher is a 27 year-old messy high end chef. your muse is receiving the texts. drug use tw

if anyone could read asher's internal monologue in this moment, it would be saying one thing over and over: i should put my phone away. i should put my phone away. he was fucked up. there wasn't a pretty way to describe it. every part of his body was inflamed and his eyes practically felt like they were buzzing. when he'd embarked on this acid trip with his friends, he knew the very first thing he should do is hide his phone from himself. yet, he didn't. wiping sweat from his forehead that wasn't even there, asher unlocked his phone and fired off several texts:

'i'm so fucked up right now.' 'i'm with people and i hate them cause they aren't you.' 'i love you so much.' 'i know you don't wanna hear it but i needed you to know.'

[godzexperiment]

Nyriel was both there, but also in an memory of an place all locked up and inaccessible. Pressure to the bleeding wound which mirrored moments of his past. Of not wanting his blood to spill, part from his body. Hating the smell of it but not scared of the feeling. It was no big deal after all. Something that could be undone like it never happened. Yet this wouldn't be that- the smell existed because he wasn't there. This was not those circumstances and there would be no maker pressing some undo button. As an drop escaped onto the ground beneath him. It would heal but it wasn't going to be the same. Crumpling to the ground unconscious and not even fighting to stay awake.

Eventually his eyes slowly opened and he shrunk away from the sensation of somebody's hands touching him. One dried bloody hand retrieving his knife to create personal space again by holding it so that they'd step back. As his brain focused his vision and started to reboot. "I'm fine."

[cursedvessels]

open to all !! pre-established relationship: friend, acquaintance, staff at the circus, circus attendee, etc -> open to ideas ! plot: shimi's being unusually quiet, deflective, a bit of turmoil slipping through his so sunny façade, it's obvious something's bothering em and your muse is determined to get to the bottom of it

"I'm fine," Shimi states plainly, flashing an unconvincing smile to the other. Eyes narrow a little thoughtfully, though they keep that smile plastered to their lips as they sit up a little straighter. They straighten their jacket next, shifting a little in their seat--perhaps uncomfortable with the topic of conversation being turned on em.

"Why do you ask? And keep asking?" There is no hostility or frustration in eir words, merely curiosity and mild confusion, perhaps even a bit of worry. Did e seem unhappy?

"Is my answer not to your liking?"