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PLOTTING CALL / if you’re interested in establishing a plot or dynamic, give this a like & i’ll shoot you an im !

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“ you’re hurt. ” not a question — she keeps her distance, though careful eyes examine the wound from a few steps back. “ i got some bandages. ” meg explains quietly, pointing at a pocket on argo’s saddle. “ if you let me come close, i can help you. ”

open !

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    “ i had a doll, when i was a kid. some — honestly hideous cabbage patch with blue hair. ” her laughter is rare & unexpected — it breaks her words, as soft & discreet as it is. “ i don’t know why, but i dreamed about it, last night. i woke up missing it. ” she drifts slowly through a haze of memories — some she has forgotten, some she has locked away. it feels like a million lives ago, like the person living throug them is a memory herself. she’s watching through a glass, towards a life of mundane details, a movie with no conclusion. “ it’s stupid, what you end up missing. i could be missing a microwave, a dishwasher — ” words drift away, & her smile disappears. she’s missing far more than that. a shrug — time to get back to work. “ whatever. i hated that doll. ”

open ! 

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ALTERED  REALITY  SENTENCE  STARTERS  PT I

send one in for a starter based on it. ( source: x )

any target 

churches in texas 

abandoned 7/11’s

your bedroom at 5 am 

hospitals at midnight 

warehouses that smell like dust 

lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore 

empty parking lots 

ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods

rooftops in the early morning 

inside a dark cabinet

playgrounds at night

rest stops on highways

deep in the mountains

early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed

trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic

schools during breaks

those little beaches right next to ferry docks

bowling alleys

unfamiliar McDonalds’s on long road trips

your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep

laundromats at midnight

galeries in art museums that are empty except for you 

the lighting section of home depot

stairwells

hospital waiting rooms 

airports from midnight to 7am 

bathrooms in small concert venues

cemeteries 

abandoned penitentiaries 

hilltops at night in full moonlight 

most of Japan 

empty barns 

marshes 

really anywhere quiet at midnight, the air vibrates 

old stones and henge 

the ocean when it’s still quiet with fog over it

train tracks that go through the middle of the woods

bridges

part ii  /  part iii

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Send me a number and I’ll write a starter about the corresponding word:

(You can send multiple numbers, and I’ll try to combine the words in a starter)

1. Blood 2. Roses 3. Phantom 4. Summon 5. Bridge 6. Battle 7. Fear 8. Storm 9. Road 10. Power 11. Wolf 12. Revenge 13. Cold 14. Warm 15. Journey 16. Snake 17. King 18. Maze 19. Love 20. Hate 21. Murder 22. Death 23. Home 24. Force 25. Mountains 26. Gold 27. Silver 28. Rain 29. Betrayal 30. Protection 31. Dark 32. Whisper 33. Intimate 34. Skin 35. Screams 36. Tree 37. Religion 38. War 39. Peace 40. Laughter 41. Tears 42. Hurt 43. Comfort 44. Legend 45. Fire 46. Water 47. Earth 48. Air 49. Sun 50. Moon

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“ you’re hurt. ” not a question — she keeps her distance, though careful eyes examine the wound from a few steps back. “ i got some bandages. ” meg explains quietly, pointing at a pocket on argo’s saddle. “ if you let me come close, i can help you. ”

open !

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    “ i had a doll, when i was a kid. some — honestly hideous cabbage patch with blue hair. ” her laughter is rare & unexpected — it breaks her words, as soft & discreet as it is. “ i don’t know why, but i dreamed about it, last night. i woke up missing it. ” she drifts slowly through a haze of memories — some she has forgotten, some she has locked away. it feels like a million lives ago, like the person living throug them is a memory herself. she’s watching through a glass, towards a life of mundane details, a movie with no conclusion. “ it’s stupid, what you end up missing. i could be missing a microwave, a dishwasher — ” words drift away, & her smile disappears. she’s missing far more than that. a shrug — time to get back to work. “ whatever. i hated that doll. ”

open ! 

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sooo since i hate writing starters ‘cause i get paranoid about too many things, i’m gonna post a couple OPEN ones — feel free to reply to them & insert your character in meg’s universe if you’d like, or idk, keep it generic, whatever you wish. just, if you feel like interacting, feel free to jump on them♥

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shadowedays

he leans backwards, a trail of a smile slowly spreading through his lips. he WANTS to believe this, he wants to keep up with the faith, have some hope for the future. but every day it seems to fade away little by little. ‘we still need each other’ it echoed through his head, he knew it was TRUE, he was aware of how MUCH he needed people, but on this moments, what even was the point of it? “ it still feels— like a waste of— everything. ” that was far more off putting than he had intended it to sound.

   her gaze rests on him for a while. these days, everyone’s carrying their own brand of tragedy on their back — stories of loss & defeat, & as much as they can convince themselves otherwise, this is no one’s happy ending. but what else is there, but the need to push through this ? meg offers a shade of a smile. she can’t guess his tragedy, & she won’t speak of hers, but empathy: that’s about all she truly has left. “ i guess it is. but if it’s a choice between giving up & fighting for a lost cause, well — ” arms raised as if to claim innocence, or perhaps resignation. “ it’s something to do, at least.  ”

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PLOTTING CALL / if you’re interested in establishing a plot or dynamic, give this a like & i’ll shoot you an im !

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Send me "§" if you'd ever consider shipping our muses

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PLOTTING CALL / if you’re interested in establishing a plot or dynamic, give this a like & i’ll shoot you an im !

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Send me "§" if you'd ever consider shipping our muses

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Jessica Chastain as Commander Melissa Lewis in The Martian (2015)

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"We all want to belong. It's a primal need."

she doesn’t utter a word. she stares instead, wondering what hides behind those words. he speaks as if it isn’t him speaking, but something higher — something far, far more revelant than these mortal talks human beings keep insisting on. he speaks as though he knows a secret they have all been missing out on. she remembers scenes from another story — another man speaking, her hanging from her lips, a bee sucking on nectar. still the comparison seems wrong — his words would sound perverse, like a dark fantasy he kept hidden in the dark of his chambers. these words, instead — these words have the lightness of truth, as breathable as fresh air. these words are a comfort. in the age of loss & decay, the notion of belonging seems so silly, so mundane. so foreign — what does she belong to ? a badge with no meaning, a house she has abandoned. an utopia she does not believe in. her gaze strays away from sterling, losing itself in the acid hues of a nuclear sunset. the wind blows softly, carrying warmth & laying it on her skin. perhaps she belongs to the end of the world. she lets out a breath, then turns towards the unlikely companion of her evening talks, a difficult question on her lips. “ and you — what do you belong to ? ”

@entropiy / the following starters, accepting.

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"I suppose that radio is out of the question, is it?"

the look she throws back is just a little bit smug, just a little bit offended. she isn’t proud of much, but radios — come on, radios are her thing. her weird little hobby nobody can explain, her off-the-book specialty she could parade around erydian like a child. really, he should know better. meg doesn’t bat an eye, her gaze doesn’t stray away from him. instead she grabs the radio & turns the knob, slowly until faint static starts coming from the speaker. “ come on, man. ”, she tilts her head, & a smirk follows. “ give me some credit. ”

@shadowedays / the following starters, accepting.