#starters turned to drabble.

[thedevotedhealer]

"Loosen Up"

The aftermath of the war was... Rather peaceful. In a way, despite all the losses of very skillful unnamed shinobi. It was something that all great nations needed to finally come together, set aside their differences, and fight as one, a sacrifice not lost In the air. Sakuro, in a way, had to thank Madara and Obito, because things weren't as rocky as before the war with other villages. No Akatsuki running around to cause chaos, no more Madara-poser to capture tailed beasts, no more Kaguya, just... Peace.

But during the recuperation period, came responsibilities, even more responsibilities than the ones they'd had before the war: Naruto, even though made Jonin by Kakashi's favor, was working hard to become a Hokage, working day and night, catching up on study materials with Iruka-sensei's help, Sayuri(Sasuke) was taken into custody, and Sakuro, despite his unyielding admiration for the woman, both romantic(which was slowly dying out) and as a highly talented and skilled shinobi, he kinda hoped they'd give Sayuri a full sentence, but him being the last Uchiha, he knew his wish was close to impossible.

Shikamaru became the new advisor of Kakashi, who was named as the Rokudaime, filling in until Naruto could get his shit together, and his best friend, Inochin (Ino) was working to become the next Leader of Konoha barrier team and also worked on missions concerning interrogation and information gathering. He smiled at the thought, He was so proud of the Yamanaka, both of them having skill gaps at some point of their lives, but now, he could safely say, they were equals, their little rivalry that started over a girl now being there with the sole purpose to keep each other motivated to strive for more and learn more while having each other's backs whenever necessary.

As for him? Once Tsunade stepped down from being the Hokage, a few weeks after, she stepped down as the head medic of the Konoha medical department and, named him both head of the medical department and the director of Konoha Hospital, which meant a LOT more responsibilities than what he previously anticipated. Thank fuck for his quick wit, smarts, and adaptability skills, because holy shit there was a lot of paperwork and patients to go through. He rarely had any time for rest, let alone to go out and hang out with his friends.

Speaking of work...

He was in his office, sitting on the beige sofa and sipping on a fairly sweet coffee, sorting through paperwork on the long, wooden coffee table, glasses framing his otherwise flawless, but tired features. He would sit behind his desk, but there was already a pile of paperwork stacked around it and he needed an empty space to sort through them, so he chose to sit on the sofa. He took another sip, signing off a paper with his "special" pen before a knock came from the door. "Come in" He called out, not bothering to glance over at the door, already knowing who it was.

The door opened, revealing a tall Nara. "Hey. Just stopped by to see ya, since I was around this area. Got a moment?" He closed the door behind him and put his hands into his pockets, walking over to the sofa, he sat next to Sakuro.

"Hmm" Was his only response. "Give me a sec..." He mumbled, checking over the document copy once more, before signing that off as well. He set down the pen, then the mug and finally removed his glasses, before diverting his attention to Shikamaru. "Glad you stopped by." He gave the man a tired smile. "What's up?" He asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand, before looking at the Nara, who scrunched up his nose in displeasure "You look like Madara dumped your head into the rivers of hell or somethin'." He commented, which made Sakuro chuckle. "Two hours of sleep, fifteen hours worth of surgery and healing, and six hours of paperwork and three hours of fixing medical essays about PAD and Asthma." He replied simply. "Comes with the package of being the head medic and director." He smiled dryly. Shikamaru frowned at how tense the man's body looked, then noticed the cup. He took the cup and took a sip before making a face. "Gross, how do you even drink this? it's pure sugar!" He coughed, setting the mug back down, trying to remove the sickly sweet taste from his tongue by swallowing whatever the pinkette had put inside that unholy mixture, mixed with coffee. "And you're supposed to be the responsible medic." He grumbled, which made Sakuro chuckle. "Hey, it helps me stay awake, alright? Plus, you're no better, judging by your voice." He reached over and set a glowing palm on Shikamaru's chest, a few seconds later the man started coughing up, before running into the bathroom. After a bit, he came back out, grumbling. "What can I say, black lungs match my soul." He sat back down next to Sakuro. Over their small talk, he noticed the man's eyes running back to his paperwork from time to time. Shikamaru frowned. "You know, you need to loosen up a little. I know our responsibilities grew, but it doesn't mean ya need to live and breathe work... We have a life outside of it..." He moved closer to the man and gently massaged his neck. This made the pinkette melt on the spot, sighing contently as he felt the tension slowly leave his upper back and, his head. Being friends with Shikamaru came with its own little quirks. Being between a borderline introvert and an extrovert, who observes his surroundings, Sakuro got along well with the genius of Konoha, played shogi with him, and discussed strategies, politics, and whatnot. They picked up on each other's habits and mood swings and learned how to deal with them. For Sakuro, massage to the back of his neck was one of the ways he relieved tension and stress. "Ya know, one of the reasons I came here is, in fact, to make you loosen up." This sentence was rewarded with a set of raised brows. "As much as I'd love to, I'm engaged, so... Unless Temari wants a threesome-" That earned him a disgusted look. "Kidding, Kidding. Jeez. Anyway, the reason I came here was because: Konoha 12 is hanging out tonight. Ino told me to convince ya before he took over the situation and dragged you along with him." He explained.

Sakuro raised a brow again, now facing Shikamaru. "What, you became a mediator too?" He grins playfully. "Hey, I'm trying my best to keep two of my friends from tearing each other's hair out and you know how sensitive Ino is about his. Appreciate me a little more, will ya?" Shikamaru smiled slightly. "That, he is..."

"Anyway, me and Temari-" "She's here?" "Yes, so are Kankuro and Gaara" "Oh nice." Sakuro smiled. "Yeah, lemme finish" He grumbled. "Fiiine, go on..."

"So, we're hanging out, since it's our graduation day anniversary or whatever. Since we hadn't done anything over the years whatsoever.." He explained.

"Tonight?" Sakuro asked, hesitating. "Yep." He nodded. " But- i have a shift toda-" Shikamaru cut him off. "Oh, no ya don't. I've been told to bring you with, so be ready by six. I'll stop by with Temari. You- without your white coat and healing palms, will be ready to meet us. Don't make me go to Rokudaime-sama, I will make him turn this into an emergency mission." He got up and patted Sakuro's shoulder and stood up. "Wait-but-..." "Good to know we came to an agreement, cya later!" He opened the door and walked out. Sakuro heard a "What a drag" as he closed the door.

He blinked, dazed then looked down at the pile of paperwork then up at the clock. "Am i-... Really turning my life into my work...?" He mumbled to himself, before shaking his head, smiling. "I-... Guess it wouldn't hurt to escape once in a while..." He said to himself softly.

He clapped his hands together. "Alright! It's 12 PM, I'll assign other docs on my shift and take a well-deserved break! Oh, and the class..."

He grinned and got to work.

It wouldn't be too bad to let loose sometimes, after all.

//Mod: Using this more as a writing motivation than a starter. It gave me good ideas XD

Talking Heads : Once in a Lifetime album pt. 3 … sentence starters

"Loosen up."

"We've lost the way."

"It's a dangerous life."

"He's hurt, he's dying."

"What good is freedom?"

"I believe he'll be alright."

"Why are we left behind?"

"I believe you'll be alright."

"What are we working for?"

"Why can't I go with them?"

"I was an angry, young man."

"They're grabbing at straws."

"It was not an accident at all."

"God laughs at people like us."

"Now it's only fields and trees."

"Memory is the strangest thing."

"Maybe we'll never meet again?"

"I can't get used to this lifestyle."

"So, don't tell me, please hold me."

"They'll have us home by morning."

"I'm not the same as everyone else."

"I hope you get everything you need."

"I'll make a bet you're both the same."

"I can see the house where I was born."

"Millions of people are waiting on love."

"Why is everybody making eyes at me?"

"And times were hard for people like us."

"No sense of harmony, no sense of time."

"Excuse and pardon me, stay for a while."

"Now don't you wanna get right with me?"

"Watch out, this time they've gone too far."

"Now tell me, what the hell have we become?"

"Somebody could have told us where they go."

"How long must we live in the heat of the sun?"

"There's something special 'bout people like us."

"Well, I hope you're happy with what you've made."

"Love keeps us together. And love will keep us alive."

"You got what you wanted and you lost what you had."

"And as things fell apart, nobody paid much attention."

"If you're looking for trouble, well, that's what you will find."

[asktowa]

The first thing that Towa noticed when he turned back into his regular self, was that he, disappointingly, no longer had cute little paws. The second thing he noticed was that he was naked. It was a good thing he was in his room when it happened, because he did not want to get in trouble for something stupid like ‘public indecency’ or whatever.

He had just finished putting on his uniform, though, when a wave of nausea hit him like a truck. He barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of his stomach rather violently spilled out of him. Chunks of meat and blood poured out of him in continuous waves, leaving his throat and jaw aching. Towa’s vision blurred with hot tears and his whole body was shaking, but he couldn’t stop. It hurt so, so bad, but he just couldn’t stop.

He should have known this would happen. For a whole month, he ate nothing but meat, and now it came back to bite him in the ass. Sure, as a ghoul, something as simple as meat shouldn’t make him this sick; But eating raw anomalous flesh results in gross anomalous reactions. And now, his body was trying to purge itself of all that disgusting meat.

God, this sucked. He could only imagine what the weather outside looked like right now. He’d have to apologize to Haru for that later. But for now, he was busy making fast friends with the toilet bowl and bathroom floor. Looks like he was going to be out for a while. Ugh.

[confessthysiins]

@sunmad requested a spotify wrapped starter. 88 - Happy by Mitski.

Happy came to visit me, he bought cookies on the way I poured him tea and he told me “It’ll all be okay” Well I told him I’d do anything to have him stay with me So he laid me down And I felt happy come inside of me He laid me down and I felt happy

He’s taken to bringing her treats, she’s noticed. Never full meals, nothing filling. When he leaves she usually finds herself wanting, hungry for more.

Miriam’s under the weather these days, staying at a flimsy motel with what little she can scrounge together from moonlighting at bars and other haphazard gigs. Too cold to sleep outside in Seattle this time of year. It’s a dingy place she’s found for herself, but not without a rustic charm that reminds her of home. It looks incongruous in the city, this motel, with its vintage wood panelings and dim farmhouse lights - an old place full of ghosts. Well, she’s a stranger here too, foreign, like a tumor on the concrete organs of it, parasite in its steel blood. Behind closed curtains that barely keep out the setting sun’s light, Miriam has taken to imagining all the people that have come and gone from this very room throughout the years; lone travelers, businessmen, pairs of gentle lovers. She snickered at the thought. This wasn’t a place for love, not free love anyway. This was a bed where you’d take a whore. Yes, it felt like home, and it was, for now.

He’d texted her when he got to the motel. The notification woke her from the half-sleep of fever. Miriam hurriedly turns on her phone camera, arranges her hair, puts on chapstick. She can’t bear her reflection in the bathroom mirror, years of reflected impurity seeming to bare the depth of her marred soul. She had cried in front of it, just the night before, turmoil brewing like a black sea in her mind, had covered it with a towel in fear she would glance upon it again. Her emotions felt sharp, too violent to handle. It was often like this. Illness had never relieved her of it.

Would he notice, she asked herself? Would he smell the sickness on her and turn back in disgust? Maybe he’d finally see her for what she is; sick freak and with sick needs, just like the girl in the mirror last night, sitting lonely with her sins. She cannont bear the thought of the good doctor seeing her like this. She wants to be perfect for him, for the role she plays in the strange theater of their relationship. She’s rummaging through her meager belongings, hands grabbing in the dark of her purse for a bottle of cheap perfume, when he knocks at the door.

“ Miriam? ”

She hesitates, a primal anxiousness welling in her gut. Another quiet knock. She crosses the room and opens the door meekly, as though expecting a stranger. It’s him. Of course, it’s him. There was a time where she would have been scared, standing before Oswald in the crack of the doorway like the maw of a beast, his strong presence, his woody scent; now an inexplicable relief hits her like drugs straight in the vein. Her sweet doctor, her lone savior.  “ Um, come in. I’m sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, ” she says, a hint of embarassment coloring her cheeks. She feels hot, too close to the sky, to God.

Oswald’s steps are quiet on the carpet when he enters, sidling past her with a rustle of his woolen coat. She watches, turns to lock the door behind him more by habit than aught else. He places a small bag on the dusty table in the corner, produces a plastic takeout bowl from it as he looks around the room. She imagines disappointment in his eyes.  “ You said you were feeling poorly, so I thought I’d bring you something, ” he says nonchalantly. “ I figured you must be in a right state to cancel your appointment. I do hope you’re feeling somewhat better? ” She isn’t. As a matter of fact, when he closes back in on her in a long stride, haloed in the dim light of the ceiling sconce light, she feels as though she might faint.

His brow furrows as he examines her, gaze worried as he peers over her reddened and tired features. With a small shake of his head he takes off a black glove and places the back of his palm on her forehead. “ Oh, dear. That simply won’t do, ” he half-whispers. It burns, the touch, though his hand is cold, like she has gently lowered her face into a soft bed of snow. Instinctively Miriam takes a step back. “ I didn’t know you’d taken to playing nursemaid, doctor, ” she chuckles weakly, tightening her jacket around her shoulders in a vain effort to hide the chill that’s overtaken her. Instinctively she thinks of escape, regrets locking the door. She can’t bear him this close. “ What did you bring? ” Miriam stutters, escaping his tall shadow to go peek at the food. The smell is warm and hearty over that of the plastic bag.  “ Pho ga, ”  he replies, the hand that had scorched her skin squeezing briefly into a fist before he turns to face her again.  “ There’s chopsticks in the bag, but I got a fork, just in case. ”  

She breathes in the delicious aroma, stomach rumbling despite her pitiful state.  

“ You brought me chicken soup? ” 

He laughs. The sound warms her, not like the fever or like his touch, not a burn but a light and homelike feeling. Her shaking hand drags across the transparent lid of the container, warm and supple with the steam. She blinks away the tears that well up in her eyes, rubbing at them with the hem of her sleeve. The ghost of his hand lingers on her face, cool and intense. Though she had spoken as if jeering, she finds herself truly moved by the gesture, by his tender care. The relief of his presence is too immense for words, but she finds herself blurting them out anyways, a thought she normally would have kept to herself crawling out of her small mouth like a moth: “ I wish you would stay. Just a little while. ” Immediately she fears his derision. Shameless, greedy girl, to ask for more when already he does so much for her. But he only looks surprised for a moment before a smile graces his stern features. Always playful, the therapist acquiesces with a small flourish: “ Thy wish is my command. ”

“ You don’t have to do this, you know, ” she says, smiling nevertheless as he sits next to her on the bed. She settles in slowly, not with deliberation but with dizziness, shuffling awkwardly around his weight on the mattress. “ Of course not. But maybe I like playing nursemaid, ” Oswald’s lips purse into a smirk as he recalls her words from earlier, before early winter night had enveloped them in its comforting darkness. Light is dim now in the motel room, the bedside lamp casting an orange glow on the panelled walls, the brown and dusty carpet, on her rosy skin. Miriam’s mind is buzzing with a thousand thoughts like wasp stings, the inside of her skull burning with them. There’s an ache in her chest she can’t name, a flame she can neither fully attribute to rising fever nor to the proximity of her beloved doctor, his hand so close to hers, his gaze soft, so tender as to hurt. 

“ I prayed that you would come, ” the confession fall from her parted lips like blood from a wound. “ It felt like I was on fire, and I shouldn’t have, but I prayed that you’d appear like you did that day…” Miriam is hushed, swallows a sob as he raises a hand to brush stray hair from her cheek in wordless reassurance. Curled knuckles graze her skin, fingers unfolding along her temple. His touch is like ice, like hail on her hot skin, the prickling of hundreds of needles. “ My dear, you’re burning up, ” he sighs. She yields under his hand, his gentle hand, as it lowers to her shoulder and ever so delicately guides her to lay down on the bed. Miriam’s heart rears into a gallop. He holds her briefly there, white hair falling on his shoulder like snow, looming over her like in a dance, or a deep kiss. Fear and worry vanish from her as though he exorcised them with the lightest touch. And he calls her mine, mine, mine. He can never know what it does to her when he says those things. It burns more than the fever, more than scorching hot metal, more than the sun. It burns like the gaze of angels. 

She takes his hand in hers, entwines their fingers through her hair, voice choked. “ I prayed… ”

“ Shhh, Miriam. It’s okay. It’s okay, ” Oswald murmurs to her tenderly. His thumb caresses her cheek, wipes a tear welling through her dark eyelashes. “ Sleep, now. ”

Her lips tremble and she bites down on them. Oh, how magical it is to feel his touch. If only he would wrap his long fingers around her wrists, take from her as she has taken from him. Always her savior gives, never lets her give of her own. If he only dared to ask she would gift him everything she has, everything she is. Through the haze of her affliction she looks up to him, to his silver eyes filled with pity. She wants to fight against it, to turn his sympathy away and leave only the caring, the warm love between them, but she feels so terribly weak. Once he had appeared to her like a shining knight as she writhed under the cruel eye of God, and again she felt that desire to hide in the fortress of his arms, to feel them wrap around her tightly, without judgement. They were strangers, that time. How come it was alright then, for him to be so close, for his heart to beat calm and soothing right next to hers, and not now? Why was it he always the one to pull away, sad and regretful?

She doesn’t want sleep. She wants to turn her face and press his palm against her lips and taste his skin.  She wants her burning heart to crawl its way into her mouth and to give it tenderly up to his own, wants him to feel the hot blood in her veins, dark and sick. She wants him like this forever, poised above her in this bed made for outcasts and lonely men and whores. 

“ Good night, Miriam. ”

Only treats. Never filling. He leaves and she finds herself wanting, hungry for more.

And if you’re going, take the moon Then maybe I will see you In the night; I’ll see you And when you go, take this heart I’ll make no more use of it When there’s no more you

[happyhappyfantrolls]

(Lowkey want to write a perigee ball starter for Cintia)

[iobartach]

He always hated the cold, loathed the way it seeped through every layer of clothing, bypassing any barrier that he attempted to put. It wasn't just a passing chill; it was penetrating, in a bone-deep sort of way, that gnawed at a frail belief he clung desperately to. It declared that he was fine, fit and healthy by measures that purposefully excluded a large swathe of determining factors, such as the glaring truth of what he had become. But the lie peddled was quickly bought, digested and believed, so that he didn't have to confront the truth; that the cold was punishing him in ways that a regular human couldn't conceive of, let alone comprehend.

Caught out in below-zero temperatures, the frost clung to him, refusing to let up. It gnawed at him more severely than it would anyone else caught in below-zero temperatures. Strangers could thaw themselves by a fire in minutes, reclaiming a sense of warmth and relief. But not him. For every second he sought comfort, the ache refused to relent, as though the cold had conspired with the other miseries that already riddled his body, multiplying his ailments instead of alleviating them.

But not him. In seeking the same comforting glow, the clawing aches that riddled his joints persisted, the cold finding a co-conspirator, that nefariously added to his list of physical ailments, rather than detract from them.

And it only got worse from there.

Gooseflesh pricked across his arms and neck, raising fine hairs that prickled constantly, agitating his perceptions of his surroundings. His clawed fingers too ached in a similar fashion, each digit requiring more focus than needed to move. His height, too, devolved into a disadvantage, that left him fully exposed to the brunt of every polar gust faced, the icy breeze carving through him like knives, relentless and unyielding. His muscles, always taut with a readiness that bordered on instinctual, also began to ache under the strain of simply keeping warm, one more complaint to add to a symphony of unspoken troubles.

Changing positions elicited fresh soreness, but he did so anyway, to flex and test the sharpness of his numbed talons against the cold steel of a nearby railing. Metal that was still faintly covered in a layer of early morning frost as he easily pierced and sliced off a section of the railing with a single swipe, a fast motion that shook off the sluggish that the near arctic temperatures imposed upon him.

And right there, for a brief, crucial moment, he carved out a crucial victory, shaking off the effects of the persisting frost that seemed less like an external force now, and more like a reminder. A constant, corrosive whisper of what he was; something both more than human and less. A contradiction, tied together by sinew and mutation, left to grapple with complexities he had never conceived of, in all of his time spent working in a laboratory, in the past.

But for now, he could rend steel like paper, he could move, he could endure. And if that was all that he could manage for now, then it would simply have to be enough.

[red-man-of-mustache]

ℳ ➙

[fangsanddaggers]

Hearth's Rising starter call

It's time for Astarion, everyone's favorite vampire! Will be capping at 2 1 more because he has a challenge I gotta plan still (I'm trying guys)

You can find him;

It's that time of year again, time for a Yule Log hunt (and maybe food)

He will be buying more and more materials for Hearth Dolls (they're a comfort thing even if he's slowly filling the room beneath the stairs with them) Claimed

Why not gather some Snowberries? Sounds fun, cute, domestic even?

Lunar Voyage perhaps? He heard there's some pretty rocks

[dalishborne]

“  i don’t wanna get up.  ” (Doesn't have to apply to the meme <3)

Morning After Starters (Selectively Accepting!)

Revenelan chuckled softly as her fingers gently threaded through Vasco’s hair, cradling him against her chest beneath his bed sheets. His bed, always his bed; though her clan had caught wind of the burgeoning connection between her and the sea-captain, she wasn’t ready for the torrent of questions and curiosities that would follow the revelation of their bond. Revenelan and Vasco could only steal fleeting moments together, their responsibilities pulling them in opposite directions for weeks. She wished to stretch these stolen seconds, uninterrupted and devoted solely to him.

They lingered in this embrace, a tangled web of limbs, silently basking in each other’s warmth, slipping in and out of sleep to the comforting thrum of their beating hearts. Revenelan looked down with a tender gaze, her lips curling into a content smile. From her view, all she could see of Vasco was the top of his head against her, his cheek pressed to her blackened chest. The covers were snug under his strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close as if she might slip away at any moment. Yet, Revenelan had no intention of leaving; she wished instead to meld into his very being, to be closer to Vasco than the depths of his own soul.

But how foolish to entertain such a love, destined to end. Revenelan stilled, her face falling. That venomous voice had returned, breathing life into the murky doubts that tainted the edges of her bliss. He is of the sea, and I am of the land. When all is said and done, would it be right to anchor him from the waters he calls home? Would he even wish to remain? Revenelan knew she was bound to the life she was born into, the role she was destined for. She could never leave her clan for such selfish desires; and Vasco...

Revenelan swallowed thickly, her head tilting to observe her lover's face, grateful that he had chosen to rest his eyes, shielding him from her doubt. She studied him—the chiseled edge of his strong jaw, the soft curve of his lips adorned by the unique vallaslin of his sea-faring tribe. She traced the straight bridge of his nose to his low brow, gingerly following the blueish tattoos that adorned his face. The reality of her dark thoughts settled in, that her time with Vasco would likely, inevitably end all too soon.

She tightened her arms around Vasco, burying her nose in the crown of his dark hair, inhaling his familiar scent of sea salt and earth.

“Let’s not, then,” Revenelan murmured into his hair, planting a kiss before she continued. “Let us stay here, close our eyes, and pretend that time has stopped around us. Just a little longer.”

[notasweetnightingale]

It was 2am. How the hell was it already 2am? How the hell was it only 2am? Deziree should have been asleep at least 4 hours ago! Beauty sleep was a highly valued commodity when you could no longer afford Botox and the 111SKIN Celestial Black Diamond Eye Cream. Why wasn't she sleeping?!?!

Ah, that's right. She couldn't. Her stupid brain would not shut the fuck up. Every time she closed her eyes, something else reminded her of another something else, and another, and another, until her whole brain was very, very, very loud and oh-- were those tears?

The 111SKIN Celestial Black Diamond Eye Cream couldn't even save you from those. Not from the tears, or the necklace, or the kiss, or Charlotte La Bouff, or that other blonde, or--or-- Maybe she should dye her hair? Go Kardashian blonde or something. Oh my God, but the box dye! Ew! God, her life was so over!!

What would her mom say? Did it matter what mom would say? Eugh, of course it matter. It had been so long, and still, as ever, Deziree did not know who she was without mom's heavy stare and marked words.

She was basically a failure, if mom could call her something. All that practise to get a man, get money, have status, and here she was barely making her car payments and hung up on a no-name boy who was (at least in Deziree's eyes) interested in everyone and anyone. God forbid mom finds out about the buttons...

The truth was, despite her personal failings, she couldn't stop thinking about stupid Travis Montgomery in amongst how absolutely desperate she was to just fall asleep.

She couldn't help but think about that kiss, hidden beneath a dark veil in the corner of a party, or the necklace that was stuffed in a box at the back of a drawer. She couldn't help but think about the coffee, or the car ride, or... Anastasia puking in the back of said car. Ew! Way to ruin the moment again, Stas!

Deziree could only hope there wasn't another phone call to go pick her sister up tonight, because tiredness and driving wasn't a good combo, even if she could use someone's shoulder to cry on. She sure as shit wasn't going to wake up Ella at this hour.

It was 2am and Deziree was exhausted. She was hysterical. She was delirious okay?! Deziree did the unthinkable.

She picked up her phone, found his name, and hit record on what was only supposed to be a short, to the point voice note. "Hey, this is--"

Sniff.

"--This is gonna sound really stupid, but, like, um, do you remember that, uh, that one time that you came by to pick me up because Stas was a riot and you were like hey, anytime, no problem bestie? And there was coffee and you saw my-- nevermind! Not that point. The point is-- I don't know what the point is. The point is! That-- Look, I know it's like 3am and you're probably sleeping or off, I don't know, like making out with someone or fixing a car or something but I can't stop-- I can't-- I can't sleep."

Just enough pause for a deep inhale.

"I can't sleep and it's driving me nuts and I don't even know what I'm saying or why I'm even making this voice note or-- no. No, I do. You said if I needed you I should call you and... I know this isn't technically a call but..."

And an exhale.

"But if you're awake, I wouldn't mind..."

And thus, the voice note went on for a further 3 minutes, becoming no clearer as time went on.

Whoosh.

Turns out, holding your thumb on the record button for 5 minutes is quite tiring and... whoosh! The message sent the moment her too-tired finger was released.

Gasp.

The post-send clarity was a bit too real...

Oh no! Oh no, no, no! That wasn't supposed to send! Shit!! Shit, shit, shit, delete, delete, please del-- It's fine, he's not online! It's fine, this is-- wait-- he's online, why is he online?! Why is he online at 3 in the morning?! Deleeeeete!!

Deziree's heart-rate spiked well above safe levels when the read receipt lit up blue. The only thing she could possibly do was send another voice note to make it absolutely clear that he should not listen to the first voice note! (He'd seen it, she couldn't delete it yet. Then he'd know something was wrong!!)

"DON'T LISTEN TO THAT LAST MESSAGE IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO SEND IT WAS ACTUALLY AN ACCIDENTAL RECORDING AND IT'S NOT IMPORTANT!!!"

And another.

"You can just ignore it. Seriously! Everything is actually fine. Go back to sleep or fixing your car or whatever, just pretend you didn't even see anything. Bye! Goodnight! Fu--"

If her life wasn't already over, it certainly was now...

@but-theylovehim

[themanagerisavampirex]

As far as Nani was concerned, there was nothing to worry about tonight. Lilo's birthday had passed a few days ago, they had spent the day together being besties, doing nice birthday things, generally having a great time. There was no indication, at all, whatsoever, that Lilo might have wanted to do something a little... bigger or that she was planning anything.

With that out of the way, things had gone back to the regular humdrum. Nani had left Lilo alone for the evening, which Lilo had said she was totally fine with. She and Stephen were maybe just going to sit and watch some movies, eat some cheese and crackers (a lot of cheese and crackers by the looks of the fridge...) and then Nani would be back later when they had probably fallen asleep.

That's what Nani thought.

That's what Nani assumed.

But you know what they say about making assumptions.

Her suspicions were raised when she got to the bottom of the road, downhill from her house; there was a distinct bassline carried over the night air, the first evidence that something was amiss (and very, very loud). The second thing of note was that there were way too many people walking up and down said hill. The closer she got, the more she hoped that they wouldn't make the final left turn toward her driveway and... they did.

A scene of horror unfolded before her very eyes as she pulled her car to the edge of the drive. There were cabbages!?!?! lining the driveway. (Honestly, that was the realest horror of the night. Who the fuck bought so many cabbages? Was this a deliberate attack? Did someone know about Nani's hatred for green veg?) It took Nani no time at all to realise what was going on.

And she was livid.

White hot rage flashed through her knuckles, up her arms, burned her ears.

First thing on the agenda was getting absolutely everyone out of her fucking house!

Then, oh, then, she would deal with Lilo.

[rosetintedgunman]

"we're two sides of the same coin, right"

(tfw both are sunshine babies)

@xshatteredreflectionsx (Prompt from here)

-

"I'm glad I've gotten ya ta takin' my point of view."

Was it March? Were they sitting on a park bench eating ice pops? Absolutely. How could Wilford resist? They were colourful! His - pink, obviously (because it's strawberry flavoured, obviously. The colour doesn't matter!) - was waved at Morgan as though it was an extension of his own hand.

"It's not easy ta get ta this point, but I think it's th' better place ta be. People'll look at ya an' think that yer all chirpy an' cheerful all th' time, so that means yer stupid or oblivious. They don't know it's not always th' way." A half-hearted shrug accompanied this. "Still, life is better when ya look up. See th' clouds up there? That one on th' left looks like a pineapple. But if ya resigned yerself ta feelin' nothin' but doom an' gloom, y'd just see it as a cloud, y'know?"

[fragmented-deity]

Tag dump

raw text:

#There Was Something In You I Knew Could Make That Change | Headcanons

#To Call Upon The Void Is To Hear It Answer | Asks

#Oh How Ironic Fate Can Be | RP Starters/RP Memes

#From Beyond Time | Out of Character [ooc]

#Creation & Composition Is Not Just A Mortal Quality | Music

#Announce To The World | OOC PSAs

#I See All of This World & It's Possibilities | Promos

#One Must Gather Themselves Before Gathering Their Chess Pieces | Self-promos

#Through The Eddies of Timelines | Aesthetics

#My Other Half | Iblis

#If Whole Once More | Solaris

#To Take On Such A Form Is Such Irony | Visage

#Shattered & Trying To Be Whole Again | Main Verse

#Take Up The Pen & Record Your History | Writing/Drabbles

#I Owe Much To You | Shadow

#A Faceless Shade | iconless

#Call of The Dark Moon | Open Starters

#A Being of Metal & Remnant of A Hero | Shard

#Heroes Must Stick Together | silver-heroes-rp

#A Word From A Deity's Own Mind | Dash Commentary

#Take A Whirl On The Wheel of Time | Dash Games

#Not Quite Black or White In Morality | fortruechaos

#Villains Have More Depth Than You Think | asktheevilgeniusesson

#A Mercenary Is Never Weak. Just Outmatched Upon Occasion | Infinite

#The One Who Kept My Other Half From Me | Sonic

#The Story of The Multiverse | thenextchapterbegins

#A Genius Beheld Within The Multiverse | Chronos/Tails

#And So The Machine of Time Continues Onwards With Cogs & Gears Turning | timeclipsed

#To Peer Upon One's Own Face Without A Mirror | Alternate Self Interaction

#To Repair A World Again | afracturedexistence

[biiigdecision]

drabble/open

Negan sighed as he eased himself onto the edge of his bed. He wore nothing but soft PJ pants and a white tank top. His freshly washed hair was slicked back from his face, and the weight of every year of his life seemed to rest on his slack shoulders.

He groaned as he rubbed his face. Every part of him ached, including his heart, and he wondered if this was a night that sleep would come to him.

At the foot of his head, Zeus' massive head lifted. The Rottweiler whined.

"I hear ya, buddy...." Negan bent over and scratched his fingers along Zeus' shoulders before easing himself stiffly down onto his pillow.

He gave a full-body groan as he melted into the bed. Some of the ache left his shoulders and he swung his legs carefully up. With the support of the mattress, the relief to his lower back was immediate and divine. Nearly better than sex, in fact.

"Zeus," he complained in a sigh, "I might be getting too old for this shit..."

He reached over, grabbed the edge of his bedding--a sheet, his usual blanket, and a thick duvet against the winter chill--and threw them over himself. The weight was heavenly, pressing down on his sore joints and pinning him to the bed.

Adjusting the blankets, he snuggled into place and emptied his lungs with a long sigh as he closed his eyes.

[ghcststory]

[ machine ] from delaney for whoever you're feeling 🧡

the steady hum from the machine, mixed with the wet, slick sounds it drew from delany, left carina far too pleased with herself. she sat there watching after orchestrating the entire thing, a tilt of her head and faint smirk tugging at her lips. the way delany remained on her hands and knees, and took each thrust, even as the relenting tempo increased, only encouraged carina further.

"baby girl, you're starting to look a bit worn out, hm? you still with me?" she teased, her tone a perfect mix of taunting and genuine care. carina rose and stepped closer, a hand running through her sweat-slicked hair and tucking the strands behind her ear. "you're so good for me, darling, taking every inch of this toy without complaint." the red of her stiletto nails trailed down to delany's face, tracing her cheek and jawline before pressing a thumb past her lips. "my husband will be home soon," a grin broke through her lips, "he'll love to see how good you are. won't you be a good girl and take his cock too? for me?" leaning down, carina went eye to eye with delany, watching her whimper and writhe beneath the constant pounding. carina didn't say a word and instead kept focus on delany, enjoying her struggle. but when she finally dropped her hand, she decided she wanted more from her.

moving around the woman, carina ran a hand down her naked body, while the other picked up the remote of the machine. just as she went to slap her the fleshy, round part of her ass, carina increased the speed of the machine, letting the whirring of the toy fill the room. "that's it, baby girl. i want to hear you moan. don't be shy now, sweetheart, let the neighbors know." her tone was sharp, demanding, watching in awe of how delany took it all.

[writingsinashes-moved-away]

Huffing out a breath, Tristan’s brows furrowed as his gaze darted around the room he was now enclosed in. Things just... never seemed to work in his favor, did they?

First, he ended up actually going on the mission that he was told he wouldn’t be needed on, not that he minded going. No, that wasn’t what he minded. He minded the fact that he was supposed to be on his vacation. 

The few weeks he had set aside to visit his two girls before their school year started, hopefully giving his twin a break... but no. He was desperately needed so he did what he had to do and, unfortunately cut his vacation short for the time being. 

Second? Well... that’s how he found himself in this predicament. The moment he realized something was amiss, he forcefully shoved his newest recruit out of the door, and just as he was about to follow suit, the damned glass doors shut him in, effectively locking him in a room made entirely of glass that nothing seemed to break. 

Thirdly? And most importantly? There seemed to be some sort of... gas being pumped into the room, causing him to inadvertently inhale each burning, nauseating, and almost blinding translucent gas with each breath. And with each breath, he found himself sinking further and further into his subconscious, something he wasn’t even aware he was doing until he was nothing but a mad dog, head jerking about at the slightest provocation, the slightest noise like nails on a chalkboard. 

Fourthly? No. 

No. 

NO. 

That was NOT who he thought it was. 

It couldn’t be. 

She had to have been dead by now, right?

But no. 

There she stood. 

Angelica Sunflower Payne. 

His mum. 

And for the first time in his life, he found himself utterly enraptured by the sight because fir the first time... she wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t high. She wasn’t going after him, yelling, screaming, hitting, blaming... she was simply seated on what looked to be...a hospital bed?

No, this had to be a hallucination. 

“You’re not real.” Tristan mumbled, already backing himself into the corner as his mum approached him with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am, my sunshine lad. My sweet, happy, sunshine boy-” “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Tristan roared, baring his teeth as he tried to push himself against the wall even more. 

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your loving mum, the woman who dedicated her life-” 

“Ohhhhh, what a load of bollox! You didn’t love me! You didn’t dedicate shite to me, to Remy or Brianna! You used us!” He screamed in response just as Angelica stopped short, giving him a wounded look that all lasted of a few moments before her true nature came forth. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, my sunshine boy. My world revolved around you and your siblings so very-” She tried to keep her calm even as Tristan shot to his feet, unable to stay stable as he wobbled with each step, his pupils dilated to where not even a sliver of his natural blue was seen as he pointed a finger at his mother. 

“YOU’RE WORLD REVOLVED AROUND YOUR NEXT FIX. YOU COULDN’T- you couldn’t even look at me without wanting to dig your greedy nails into my face, spitting at me, demanded where I hid your kits. Your bottles.” He spat back in her face, too far gone to realize that this was just a hallucination. 

No, to him... this was the real thing. This was his mother coming for him after finding out that he had made something of himself, and this was her wanting him to be her sweet, sunshine boy again. The foolish, naïve little boy. 

Only when he was so lost in thought did he realize that his mother had managed to one-up him and wrap her arms around him, gently rocking him back and forth, and that’s what finally broke him. 

“I was nine years old the first time I found you. NINE! What nine-year-old knows what to do when their mum is in the bathtub, a needle still stuck in her arm while dozens of bottles surrounded her?” Tristan sobbed, pulling away despite wanting nothing more than to feel his mother's arms around him, loving for once instead of her usual hatred seeping through. 

“What nine-year-old knew how to sober you up, who to call, how to administer Narcan while the paramedics were on their way? TELL ME?” He screamed as he trembled in her hold.

“I was...I was only 12 minutes older than Remy, momma. 12 minutes. Do you think those twelve minutes...they gave me some sort of insight? The ability to answer my younger brother’s question when he finally crawled into bed with me one night and tried not to cry while asking me, why did our mum not love us? Pleading with me to help him make things right, begging me to show him what to do so that you would love him? 12 minutes older... and I don’t blame him, how could I, but did he not think that I was wondering the same fucking thing? Why our mother couldn’t love us enough to stop destroying herself, to stop hurting her children...” Tristan’s voice at this point was far beyond broken as he finally collapsed, his entire frame trembling. 

“Remy and I... we knew better eventually. We stopped nicking booze from the corner stores for you in hopes that it might grant us a smile, or a deceleration of love, or even perhaps, maybe just that night, you wouldn’t try to abuse one of us...but we knew. The moment you set your eyes on Brianna? We knew.” He said, his breathing coming in faster and deeper as he clenched his eyes shut. 

“You realized what was wrong with your youngest was your own doing, right? Because no matter what you told us... you never stopped using, did you? You were too selfish. So when Brianna was born... she was never to be normal, was she?” He accused her, his glare piercing through the hallucination's gaze, the hallucination that even had the gall to look ashamed. 

“Oh, no, no, don’t act as though you were innocent in this. I can understand you weren't willing to stay sober during her pregnancy, fine. I hate it, but I can understand it. What I will NEVER understand is how you treated her after she was born. How immediately, Remy and I, two boys at age 5, almost 6, suddenly had no other choice than to become a parent to a sickly infant.” Tristan said softly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Oh, but even at that age, we did a better job than you ever could have. Especially now that that man you insisted we call father had gone and left the moment he found out you, our lovely mother, were pregnant yet again. And in all honesty, he wasn’t a great loss. All he was to any of us was the man who would lock us in a room for days with no food, no water, and no way of knowing what time of the day it was while you and him. Got high, drunk, and had the time of your lives. So no, I was GLAD when that bastard left. Made being a father to our sister so much easier.” Holding a hand up when Angelica tried to speak, he scoffed. 

“I will let you speak when I am well and bloody done, mother.” He sneered the word, pushing himself off the wall and into the hallucination’s space, towering above her, despite her not being there. 

“I was the oldest brother, I know. So it was my responsibility, despite Remy’s insistence, that we should share the load...no. I needed to take care of my baby sister and my baby brother. So I was the first to get a job at 12 once we found out that you were stealing Brianna’s pain medication to get high off of, leaving her in a world of agony.... but that little angel... she never said a word against you. She was too enraptured with the idea that maybe if she would let her mother have this from her, then maybe, just maybe, she would earn a sliver of love. A hint of kindness.” Tristan’s voice lost its fervor at the innocence that was his sister. 

“And what did you do? You slapped her, you left bruises and claw marks, and you pulled her IV out, knowing just how painful it was for a child at her age... Because she had the audacity to actually take her pain medication when she needed it and not save it all for you. You tore her down to shreds of shreds. When I came home from work, I didn’t recognize my angel anymore, and it wasn’t until I found out what happened... I wanted to kill you,” He growled, clenching his eyes shut at the hate making its way through his body.

“That was it for me. I would NOT let you ruin Remy and I’s little angel the way you destroyed us. So we started skimming your wallet. Started skimming the till at our own jobs. I stopped going to school in hopes of finding a better job while Remy, despite his insistence on doing the same, continued onward and went to classes only to stay out until 3am because the job that he managed to get was only hiring the night shift. We were never going to leave you alone with her again, Angelica.” Tristan said as calmly as he possibly could, his fingers shaking as he finally leaned against the wall and slid down once again, curled up into a ball, his forehead resting against his knees. 

“Do you know how many times we were arrested? For nicking from stores? For simply trying to get enough food to last the week for mostly Brianna? While we never would have had to if you had just... cared for us.” He said softly, his eyes closing as he took in a shuddering breath. 

“Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t you love us? What about us did you hate so very much that you couldn’t stand to see us happy? See us content? Why did you always need to see us struggling, see us miserable? See us broken? Why didn’t you love me?” Tristan finally uttered the words that had been haunting him for decades, broken words coming out of his bleeding lips as he held back a sob. “What is it about me...that just...is so unloveable?”

It was then that Angelica made her way over to his son, her beautiful, sunshine boy, and sat down next to him, a careful arm set around his shoulders. “I did love you. You, Remy, or Brianna. I just...didn’t care about you. None of you. You were all children I never wanted. How could I want any of you when I only wanted one thing? Oblivion. You were my obstacle. Do not mistake love for care, Sunshine boy.” She said softly before smirking and shaking her hair. 

“And I know you think that you cut me out when I showed up to Brianna’s funeral high off of Ketamine, flask in hand, yelling nonsense... but that nonsense? That hate I spewed? That’s the hatred that grew in place of love once I figured out that you two, little brothers in arms, started to care more about that worthless child of mine that I should have killed the moment I found out her illness. I knew I wanted nothing to do with you two anymore and I knew the best way to go about that, and what do you know? I. Got. What. I. Wanted.” Angelica said with a proud note in her voice as she roughly placed her palm against Tristan’s face and shoved him aside.

“And you know what else? For all you know... I’m still out there. I’m still alive. Only... only this time? I’m sober. I’m happy. I have an actual family I adore.” She spat at him with a grin in her sinister tone. “You’re just going to have to face facts. You were never good enough, Tristan. You or Remy. You two were always failures. Always. Will. Be.”

At that moment in time, Tristan had covered his ears and began to rock back and forth as he tried to keep his small whimpers within his chest. “Leave me. Go away.” Was all that he could utter, eyes clenched tight. 

“I will, my sweet summer boy. Maybe I’ll even give my two grandchildren a visit. You never know.” Her smug, pointed whisper was directed at him just as she disappeared. 

What he didn’t know, however, was that despite him being the only one who was administered that dose, any agent observing would have seen the whole thing. That was the beauty of HYDRA’s psychological torture. They always aimed to torture anyone and everyone. 

Finally, after he could form two thoughts together, all he could think about was getting in touch with his brother. He had to make sure his nieces were safe.

That was when the second wave of gas started to seep into the room... and he started to see things that he hoped couldn't be true. 

He wasn't able to hold back his whimpers when, instead of his mother, Brianna appeared, only this time... it wasn't the sister he loved. This time, it was his mind creating an image of his sister and the awful things that he thought she must have thought about him never being able to actually keep her safe. 

After hours of that torture came the images that led him to actual tears, the sight of Esmerelda and Ariana both lying there, so still, so broken even as they looked right at him and said in tandem, "This is your fault Uncle Tristan. You're the reason we're dead." 

All the while, Remy lay a mere foot away, blood pooled around his body as he had tried to save his children, presumably from the monster that was his twin. 

[florafound]

tag dump #1