#open starter;laurel

[all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone]

Debate {Open}

"This is not a debate!" Lyn snapped, staring at the figures before her, "We are doing this my way unless you all wanna die."

[overnightheartbeats]

loosely based on this (4th bullet point) // suggested connections: colleagues on work trip, mutual friends, exes, anything else!

It was an honest mistake, that's what she kept telling herself as the hotel clerk confirmed that, only one room was booked. To make matters worse, the place was fully booked. She looked over at the other, rolling her eyes before the suggestion was even made. "Fine, we'll share the room," she spoke through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm in front of the clerk. "But the moment something opens up, please let me know."

Once in the room, Laurel set her bag down and closed the door behind her. "What the hell, I am not taking the floor. Why don't you do it?"

[godsforlorn]

open: to anyone for platonic, masc for romantic. both muses with or without supernatural powers welcome ! plot: laurel is a witch on the run ( her coven wants to kill her rip ) and your muse has been her shelter for a while. she got herself almost killed ( again ), and of course, she is knocking your muse's door. laurel normally always wears high gloves because due to her abnormal witch powers, her hands look like this: click. but your muse already knows what her hands without the gloves look like, her little secret.

standing at the door—if one could even call it standing—she was barely upright, the aftermath of the battle she’d waged still evident in far too many ways. a deep wolf’s gash marred her shoulder, blood spattered across her face, and worst of all, her hands—already darkened by shadow—were now stained in a much deeper shade of crimson. she might convince someone she'd been attacked by wild animals, but the state of her hands was beyond explanation, beyond hiding. the darkness swallowed her hands deeper whenever she used her powers excessively. and so, here she was again, at the only place that ever offered solace in moments like this. this home had been her refuge for a while now, though laurel wasn’t entirely sure whether the one who lived here appreciated these… surprise visits. yet, regardless, not once had they ever turned the witch away. now, barely holding herself upright, she knocked—tainting the door in the process—and leaned heavily against the wall for support. she wasn’t entirely visible when the door creaked open, but with a faint twitch of her fingers, she managed a small wave of greeting. there was no need to speak. they would recognize laurel immediately—her hands alone, marked by shadow and blood, told the tale all too clearly. "greetings, i am deeply sorry for the blood on your door."

[frznkingdom]

"I-I can keep going.... I'm fine... Come on...!"

But she was clearly out of breath from the intensity of the training, struggling to stand upright as she was clearly exhausted.

[ofmarigclds]

open to: males connection: fiance’s friend, fiance’s brother, fiance’s son

Laurel tiptoed down the stairs in part not to wake anyone else in the house up and to not trip in the dim light of the night. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a noise in the same room caught her attention. Her eyes were drawn to the fridge, where he was standing in nothing but a towel. He must have had the idea of a late night snack or drink as she did. “Oh my god,” she gasped, trying not to let her gaze settle on his naked upper half for too long, “I didn’t realize anyone else was up.”  

[frzndesires]

Having removed her shirt, Laurel quickly covered her small chest with her arms. Blush spread across her face upon feeling this exposed.

"I... I'm sorry they're not much to look at..."

[blxsscd-x-fxrsakcn]

❝ I'm wary, but you seem normal enough -- for a straggler. Don't mean I won't be watching, though. ❞

Grip tightens on shotgun. Narrowing of hazel eyes. Patched rucksack hangs from opposite shoulder. Clank of canned goods. Dark hair whipped by sudden wind. Dry dirt follows.

❝ Mind tellin' how you got out here? Alabama's a long way from Nevada. Surprised the 8balls didn't get ya. ❞

[meowindie]

"hey baby!" she chirps, finally plopping until their lap after being separated all day. "did you have a good day? I missed you."

[otto-serena]

Enough {Open}

"I'm not playing nice anymore," Laurel snapped staring at the person in front of her, "I have had enough of assholes like you trying to ruin my life just because you think my husband is a monster! Wake up! The whole world is full of monsters. Good and Evil don't apply anymore."

[stargazing-imagines]

The Grudge — Conrad Fisher x Fem!reader

Description: you and Conrad breakup the 2 summers before after him cheating on you, but what happens when you come back to cousins beach with another lover? Leaving him regretting what he did.

Warning: Conrad being a jerk, bad writing.

Fandom: the summer I turned pretty

Requested: no

A/n: this song is based on the song the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo! Oh and this isn’t going to have a happy ending, but if you want a part two then let me know because this can definitely work with a part two!

It has been a few years since you have last seen Conrad, after the heartache of seeing him kiss belly was clear vision of why he was acting weird that one summer.

Here you were in the passenger seat of your fiancés car as you and him were driving to cousins beach for Susannah’s annual Fourth of July party. Everyone was going to be there, Laurel, Steven, Jeremiah, Belly, even Conrad.

You wanted to turn down the invitation, but Susannah pushed you into coming after she saw your Facebook pictures of your engagement to Anthony and wanting to meet him.

“How are you feeling, tell me honestly.” Said Anthony as he placed his hand on top of your shaking hands, you clutched you’re hands with his looking down

“Honestly… im nervous.” You said “from what Susannah said, everyone has changed,”

“What do you mean?” Asked Anthony as he looked at you then back at the road

“For starters, belly is grown up.” You said “Susannah even told me that she’s doing the debutante ball.”

“Didn’t you do it?” Asked Anthony as he kept his eyes on the road

“Yeah, the summer before I left…”

That was also the day that you and Conrad have broken up, he was your escort to the ball when all the sudden he kissed another girl

“Yeah, she even invited me to come watch her.”

“Are you going to?”

You scoffed before shaking your head

“And watch belly and Conrad together?” You said “nope.”

After you said that, he pulled into the driveway of the beach house, putting the car in park. He turned the car off before turning towards you.

“Remember… I’ll always be by your side.” Said Anthony as he gave your knuckles a kiss before stroking your cheek

“Guys she’s here!” You heard Susannah say as she rushed to your car door, opening it

“I missed you.” Said susannah as she gave you a gut squeezing hug before pulling away eyes lighting up at the sight of you’re fiancé. “you must be Anthony.”

“Yep.” Said Anthony as he gave Susannah a hug “it’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n has told me a lot of things about you and your family.”

“Good things I hope.” Said Susannah “Jeremiah, Steven! Help Y/n and Anthony get their stuff in the house!”

“So how did you two meet?” Asked belly

She was currently stood next to Gigi and the other debs as she was talking to you

“You mean me and Anthony?” You asked

“Yeah, when’s the wedding?” Asked gigi as she eyed your engagement ring

“Oh… next summer.” You said setting your stuff down

“Maybe you could have it at cousins!” Suggested belly “I could be your bridesmaid!”

You laughed at belly

“Bells you are already my bridesmaid whether I get married or not.”

You looked at Anthony who was talking to Jeremiah and Steven, he looked at you before smiling and waving at you, you waved back.

That was until you saw him.

Conrad fisher, giving the both of you death glares, you looked back at belly

“Is everything alright with Conrad?” You asked “he’s acting…”

“Strange?” Asked belly “yeah he’s been like that all summer.”

“Im going to talk to him.”

With that you sat your stuff down before following him inside the house

“Why don’t you go back outside with your lover boy?” Asked Conrad as he yelled at you “I don’t want you.”

“Why are you being like this?” You asked frustrated “you used to be so sweet and kind and gentlemanly… what happened?”

“You happened!” Said Conrad “the summer you left… I was devastated.”

“Look Conrad…”

“Please give us another chance.” Said Conrad “to make it right.”

“I can’t Conrad…” you said “I’m sorry…” 

—

The summer I turned pretty masterlist

[all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone]

Dislike {𝐿𝒶𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁}

Main Verse

"Have I mentioned that I don't like you?" Laurel asked, her voice light her eyebrows raising as she stared at the person opposite of her, "If not I think it's probably good to point it out now. I don't like you."

[overnightheartbeats]

muse - laurel anne thorn // loosely based on this

She had neglected her mailbox for two weeks. Laurel was certain that the mailman hated stopping by, because her mailbox was filled to the brim when she finally opened it. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, Laurel sorted through her mail: junk and bills, maybe a postcard from her dad. As she looked through the items, a thick ivory envelope stood out. It looked odd amongst the coupons and other pieces of paper.

Nothing could've prepared her for what it contained, the shock left her frozen in her living room. A wedding invitation? Were they serious? The pain flooded her and her chest felt heavy. An invitation was unnecessary, but if hurting her again was the point, they had achieved it. What a way to rub salt in the wound. It hurt her profoundly that they even sent this to begin with, eyes brimming with tears. Laurel tossed the invitation on the coffee table, the blue handwriting catching her eye. And there was the second blow of the day. the invitation trembled in her hands. Was this real? Emotions were driving her, any and all logic immediately going out the window. She tossed the invitation in her passenger seat, and as if, on autopilot mode, drove to their place. Laurel wiped her eyes as their apartment door opened, "what is wrong with you?"

[agnerd-bot]

Message From: Professor Laurel

Open it?

Yes!< Nah…

Hi there, kiddo! It's me, Professor Laurel! How're ya doin'? You gotta be way bigger than when I saw ya last! I dunno if you remember me after all this time, but I was so excited to hear you were moving here, I just had to whip this little recording up. So let me be the first to say… Welcome to the Demanti Region!

I know that Demanti's a bit… Well, a lot different than the Alola region where you're coming from, but I'd like to think that we've got some of our own charms up north!

Naturally, Demanti's super cold, and covered with ice and snow. We've got vast tundras and gigantic mountains, expansive grasslands and near-endless forests, and we've even got some desert lands here! Demanti's a gigantic place, and I just know you'll find somewhere you'll enjoy walking around. I know I've gotten lost my fair share of times, hehe…

And of course, in all these biomes are all sorts of Pokémon! Across the earth, sea, and sky, these amazing creatures inhabit our world, waiting to be encountered. Some people like to bond with their Pokémon by playing. Others work together with Pokémon to help society go on. And of course, Pokémon trainers strive to the top by battling each other.

And of course, there's me! The Pokémon Professor of Demanti. My specialty is in studying item usage both in battles and in nature! Pokémon are so much smarter than we give them credit for, and they always have new ways of surprising us! In one of my research papers, I actually-

Nido!

Oh, whoops! I've been babbling again, haven't I? Thanks for keeping me on topic, buddy! Hehe! I just know you're excited to start off your Pokémon journey, so I'll keep this as brief as I can. I know your mom filled out most of your paperwork for you, but there is some stuff that I need you to fix up for me. Just the usual stuff, photo, preferred name, height and weight, all that good stuff.

But enough of that boring stuff! Your journey is going to begin tomorrow morning, and I can't wait to see you!

——————————————————————————————————

I've been working with a Fakemon region for a while in my head, and while I don't have a real fleshed-out thing to present to y'all in terms of a full doc or the like, I figured it'd be nice to try to get more of my writing out there aside from Fanservants and stuff.

The Demanti Region is geographically based off of Russia, and culturally is mainly based off of Slavic mythology as a whole, with the three starters being based off of myths such as the Bolotnik, Rusalka, and Lady Midday, the legendaries being based off of Chernobog and Belobog, and much of the evil teams' schemes being centered around trying to take the power of Demanti's legends and use them to reshape the very world in their own image.

If folks are interested in this, I'd be happy to share some more ideas I have/am writing. So far I've only got a handful of stuff written down like the aforementioned Professor Laurel, the two main rivals(one of which is written by @300iqprower), the main protagonist, and the Elite Four. I also got the Regional Fossils, two Eeveelutions, and the final evolutions of the Starters.

It's been a while since I tried working on this story(before I even joined Tumblr) but I hope y'all like this little snippet.

[frznkingdom]

"They're ugly, I know. You don't have to say it."

She hurried to put her jacket back on, hiding the jagged scars that ran up nearly the entirety of her left arm.

Even if she didn't think about the particular fight that caused the scars, the marks were still blatantly visible. Even with them covered, she knew they would always be there.

[swayhere]

canon starter call - open to anyone !

i have a strong urge to write some canon muses, so if you would be interested in writing against any of the canon muses listed under the READ MORE below, please comment/IM me and i can send a starter your way or reply to one of your starters.

i do not require you to know anything about my muse's canon, but i'm more than happy to tell you about it if you ask. i'd be happy to write canon muses against your ocs! also, mixing fandoms is 100% ok with me unless your canon muse is problematic and makes me uncomfy. my canon muses do not have all their memories or relationships from their life unless we plot it, but they will have the same general personality/ambitions.

if you are willing to write against my canon muses but don't care which, just like this post, and i'll take a look at your open starters and/or send you a closed starter at random with a muse i think fits the vibe.

*please don't agree to write against my canon muses if you're one of those picky weirdos that will be up in arms if i don't write a cannon muse exactly how you would.

( if you'd prefer to write against an oc muse only, check this post. )

canon muses i'd like to write: bold = extra big muse rn. strikethrough = exclusive, so not rn.

muses from tv shows: 

911 — eddie diaz , evan buckley , athena grant , bobby nash , karen wilson

911: lonestar — carlos reyes , grace ryder , judson ryder , t.k. strand , owen strand

as the world turns — dr. reid oliver , luke snyder

boy meets world — shawn hunter , jack hunter , angela moore , topanga lawrence

chuck — sarah walker , chuck bartowski , bryce larkin 

degrassi — jimmy brooks , sean cameron , ellie nash , marco del rossi , sav bhandari , drew torres , zoe rivas , miles hollingsworth iii , tiny bell , esme song , 

gilmore girls — jess , luke

good trouble — gael martinez , jamie hunter , callie adams foster , mariana adams foster , evan speck , joaquin perez , dennis cooper 

how i met your father — sid , ian , sophie , jesse

how i met your mother — marshall eriksen , lily aldrin , victoria

how to get away with murder — laurel castillo , connor walsh , oliver hampton , michaela pratt , frank delfino 

jessica jones — jessica jones

lost — kate austen , juliet burke , daniel faraday , desmond hume , sayid jarrah , sun-hwa kwon , claire littleton , walter ‘walt’ lloyd , charlie pace , hugo ‘hurley’ reyes , shannon rutherford , miles straume 

new amsterdam — lauren bloom , elizabeth wilder , casey acosta

new girl — nick miller , winston bishop , cece parekh

one tree hill — nathan scott , lucas scott , keith scott , chase adams , brooke davis 

outer banks (obx) — jj maybank , kiara carrera

please like me — arnold 

rosewell, new mexico — michael guerin , maria deluca , isobel evans

scandal — olivia pope , prezzy fitz

scooby doo — daphne blake

stranger things — robin buckley , steve harrington , jim hopper , chrissy cunningham , eddie munson , max mayfield , eleven , mike wheeler 

superstore — jonah simms

the 100 — finn collins

the bear — richie jerimovich, carmy berzatto , marcus , sydney adamu  

the mindy project — danny castellano 

the office — ryan howard , jim halpert , pam halpert , kelly kapoor , holly flax

the politician — river barkley , astrid sloan 

the young & the restless — sally spectra , adam newman , chelsea lawson , phyllis summers , lily winters , sharon newman , chance chancellor , victoria newman , tessa porter , amanda sinclair , cole howard

younger — josh , kelsey peters

muses from books: 

along for the ride ( book version only ) — eli stock , auden west , maggie  

one of us is lying ( book version only ) — cooper clay , nate

red white & royal blue — alex claremont-diaz , prince henry , zahra bankston

we were liars — gatwick ‘gat’ matthew patil

muses from movies: 

dead poets society — neil perry , charlie dalton , todd anderson

harry potter — lee jordan

les mis — enjolras , grantaire 

super 8 — joe lamb , martin , preston

twilight — irina denali , jasper cullen

[harri-etvane]

The Angst sentence starters.

Because I obviously like to torture myself with your brilliant Angst writing and hey, I haven't cried and screamed at things in a while :)

Volena (because why not break my heart)

"I'm so sorry for anything I've done to you."

(If this sparks no inspiration I will also be happy with "Please, speak to me.", "I am just so tired." or "You can't leave me alone.")

(And if you feel super inspired ... all four?!? 🥺👉👈)

(No pressure and no hurry though. I need time to emotionally prepare myself.)

Hey Jam! - thanks for sending these, they were a good exercise for me to stretch my angst muscles. I'm sorry they took so long!

I've written about 300 words for each of them, apart from "I'm so sorry for anything I've done to you." which didn't spark any inspiration in me at the moment. I'll keep it in my WIP doc of doom though, and if anything comes to mind; I'll post!

As there's nearly 900ish words, I'll pop them just below the cut. There's no over-arching narrative (or there could be if you squint at it really hard) and apologies - one of them ended up a bit similar to some bits and pieces I wrote for Early Though the Laurel Grows.

Anyway - I hope you like them; I'm excited to hear your thoughts! If you'd like a continuation of any of them, let me know! xxx

"Please, speak to me."

She's said it hundreds of times, or it feels that way at least, longing more than anything to hear the rough, gravelly cadence of his voice, feel the press of his hand against hers, the scratch of his beard against her cheek - even just the slow opening of his eyes, the familiar dark brown sparked with recognition, affection even.

She'd give anything for that sight - everything, even.

It comes out as a whisper this time, her voice hoarse.

“Please.”

Just the echoing silence instead - her own heartbeat thumping in her ears, so quiet she can almost hear the rush of blood through her veins. His breathing is slow and unsteady, every inhale leaving them both balanced on a precipice until the flimsy, weak exhale in response somehow manages to pull them both back from the edge, an awful, endless waltz. 

She takes his hand in both of hers and lifts it, pressing her lips to his knuckles; trying not to think of how cold his skin is, at odds with the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, the bright red of fever staining his cheeks. Olena shifts her grip a little, holding on as tightly as she dares, his fingers limp in her grasp and without thinking, her fingertips find the cool metal of his wedding ring for the security it has always represented. She realises it is loose suddenly, his fingers thin, and that alone feels like another wound.

His badly-won rest is not entirely peaceful, eyelids flickering; even in unconsciousness, dragged there forcibly by the pneumonia that stalks his weary bones, his face is hollow and wan, the frown on his forehead unmoving. The sickening lurch of helplessness slides into her gut and sits there like an unwelcome friend, an enemy - she cannot take the weight from him even now; so utterly drained and exhausted, unable to find peace.

Despite her pleas, he remains near silent save for every laboured breath, pulled away on a tide she has no hope of following - so she must stay on the shore and wait for him to return.

________

"I am just so tired." 

She’s never heard him sound like this before; flat, dull - listless. He sits beside her, the long shadows in the room throwing his face into darkness as the light changes. The afternoon sun is dreary and faded, dragging the colour from the room, from him. Olena feels, just for a moment, as though she has never been further away from her husband, despite being so close.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

She pulls him towards her until he rests against her side, the weight of him familiar but just this once, it doesn't bring the same ordinary comfort. The dull weight of concern sits firmly in her chest instead as she watches his gaze move back to his desk, to the phone, his laptop, the endless reams of paper, unable to let himself truly set it aside, even just for this moment. She can feel the shadow of his ribs, the knots of his spine beneath the thick, black sweatshirt, more prominent than they were before and the concern sharpens. Gently, she places a hand on his cheek, the grey of his beard soft beneath her fingertips.

“Love?”

He turns to look at her fully then as her hand drops to his chest, his heart fluttering unevenly beneath her palm. It seems to have happened very suddenly - almost without her noticing; he looks old.

“I- oh, Lena. I'm-”

For the first time in such a long while, he struggles for words.

In the end, his voice is quiet.

“I ache.”

She nods silently, suddenly unable to speak, confronted with the painful weight of it all; this shattering glimpse of something so very raw, an unhealed wound that has nestled into the very heart of him. 

“I know.”

________

"You can't leave me alone."

The accusatory plea comes choked through a sob, ripped out of the deepest part of her, laid entirely bare here, in this one, lonely room. She tips her gaze to the ceiling - the ornate plasterwork, the gold - all of it blurred.

“You can't. You promised. You promised me the Carpathian mountains. You said–”

He'd said so many things, over the years, conjured so many ideas of what their life would look like afterward - hoped for something quiet and slow. He'd done it to comfort her, and often, himself - desperate to hold on to a future beyond the pain, beyond just living for each day, grateful for every sunrise and sunset. He'd murmured about their future during slow lunches over his desk and snatched seconds together, tentatively sketching it in broad strokes; fishing, walking, talking - space just to be. He'd talked about growing a garden, watching the seasons change and blossom with the sunlight, planting trees - cultivating something just for the beauty of it. She had listened to his plans, her hand in his and smiled - at his optimism, his determination, the knowledge that he would be by her side, through all things. She knew then that whatever happened, so long as he was with her - everything would be fine.

There had never been any question of them being apart.

Her solitude is shattered by the door swinging open, bringing with it a deeper silence, the familiar tread of combat boots and then a pause. She knows who it is without turning around. She knows why he is here. She feels Maksym behind her, his hand on her shoulder for the briefest moment. If she doesn't turn around, if she doesn't take another step; her world will not change - she will not have to go on, alone.

“Not yet. Maks. Not yet. Just, a little longer.”

“Olena Volodymyrivna.. I'm so sorry. It's time..”