#lemme know if i need to change anything!

[pine-dexter]

~* @riiese liked for a starter*~

It wasn't often these days Ford had the opportunity to take a solo excursion into the forest to do some exploring. These days, he was far too worried about Stanley to do much wandering and when the kids were around, adventuring turned into a group activity. Not that he minded! It was fulfilling to explore with Dipper and Mabel. They were always curious and up for anything, and Ford enjoyed sharing his work with his niece and nephew.

But some days it was nice to just get out and wander trees, notebook in hand. He'd recheck on some of the more interesting fauna and update some of his notes on the strange multi-colored stream not far from the house. Having spent so much time in the woods, there wasn't a lot he hadn't seen.

Or so he thought.

Now, standing behind a tree, he's staring at an honest to Sagan giant with a gaping mouth. After gathering himself, he cupped his hands around his mouth to yell.

"Ah, hello there! Down here!"

[filthysin]

starter for @fcrtnite for hannah parker (aubrey plaza fc)

zane ran down the street until he finally got to the doggy day care center, they had actually closed thirty minutes ago but he had been running late since his replacement at the bar hadn't shown up. he opened the door to the day care and was met by the sight of a woman and his dog. as soon as the door opened his running his dog, a german shepard whose name was lola, came running towards him. "hey girl." zane said as he leaned down and petted his dog, "i know i was late." he stood back up again and then looked at the woman. "which i am very sorry for." he said with a sheepish smile as he took his hand out "zane." wanting to keep it polite, he really needed this day care center.

[indulgnces]

who: theodore clark (@backtotheo)

where: masquerade ball

Masquerade balls always seemed like something out of fiction for Jenny — existing only in the world of romcoms and supernatural television and fantasy novels as a dramatic backdrop to spice up a plot. Not something meant for her mundane life. So when she heard her neighborhood was hosting their own ball for Halloween, it felt only fitting that she don a costume from one of those fictional worlds, hoping the stark red of her dress blended in with the 'bloody' aspect of the vampiric theme of the night.

In line with those fictional worlds, she always thought the 'not recognizing anyone' thing was simply a dramatization for the movies. Yet, as Jenny scanned the crowd from her spot near the event's bar and struggled to discern her friends from strangers, she was quickly realizing there was a lot more truth to the notion. Gnawing on the straw of her drink, she leaned over to voice her thoughts to the man nearest her. "You're totally not recognizing anyone here too, right? That's not just me? Because I really thought the whole Clark-Kent-mask thing was fake before this."

[undeadremcycle]

With: @cantfightmoonlight (Meena) Where: Country Club/Clan headquarters

The word still rang in Remmy's head as they stood outside the large, imposing doors to what was, apparently, a country club. It wasn't the building or even the description, though, that made them take pause. It was the word that came before, the word that the clerk had told them when they'd first come to town and been asked their species, the word that had been reserved for movies and fairytales up until now.

Vampire.

Remmy felt a little stupid. Vampire. How had they even become a vampire? Why had Lucy know what a vampire was? Why was Roy involved with vampires? When the hell did vampires become a real thing? They shifted nervously, glancing down at Moose, who sat dutifully by their left side, vigilant eyes scanning the building before them. They'd been told to come here for more information, but any further than that, Remmy had accidentally tuned it all out, overwhelmed, suddenly, by what they'd discovered. Their ears were still ringing now, too.

Some people walked by them and went into the building, not even bothering a glance back to where they stood still, in the middle of the drop off street. They blinked and watched the door slowly close, before Moose's signal caught their attention, letting them know someone was coming up on their left side.

A woman. Tall, dark-skinned, darker hair, and dark eyes, who looked more like a specter than a solid person in the moonlight. Remmy blinked and rubbed their eye. "Uh, excuse me?" they called, as it seemed the woman was walking in their direction. "I, uhh, was told to come here? By the-- er...when I came into town. Somethin' about, like, I could find someone to do this vampire stuff with? Or ask them about it? I-- I sorta accidentally tuned 'em out and forgot what they said."

[sshoryuken]

(@nosomatsu)

➣ (O)h great, this guy again. If he'd said he hadn't taken notice of the dark-haired man kicking around the area lately, trying to bum money or cigarettes off the locals, Scott would be lying through his teeth. Not really an uncommon thing for him, but... well... that's different! Just different. But don't ask him how.

With his weird hair done up and yet always so casual-looking, and his constantly-changing sense of style... the way he always seems to talk different, depending on whatever hue he's garbed in on that afternoon. Sometimes it's yellow, and on that day he's shouting about baseball. Other days it can be green, where he's gawking at pretty women with no subtlety at all.

All around, the situation is simply perplexing.

Today he's wearing red, throwing his arm around whatever girl passes by and trying to flirt with no success. Arguably the most annoying personality he takes on next to the blue one, when he speaks in broken French and tries to play guitar. Scott watches from afar, shrouded halfway by the block corner, as he sizes the guy up. He thinks for a moment, trying to gauge if he can simply approach without getting surprise socked in the nose. Normally, he wouldn't care about the presence of some random tourist, but this is a special case. A mystery plaguing his mind that he can't be rid of without proper answers.

He decides to approach. The guy clearly isn't going anywhere, as he still seems to somehow think he can get anywhere with the girls in the province, weaving around the streets delicately and quickly as to avoid him.

"What's your deal?" The query comes out abruptly as Scott stalks up to the unfamiliar, fists balled up and crammed into the pockets of his thick winter jacket.

"Every time I see you around here, you're acting like a different guy. Super weird, dude, lemme tell you."

[princessonia]

@oletusmanors 🌹

It was difficult to believe that such an adorable, seemingly typical little girl had committed atrocities the likes of Sonia, herself. From her understanding, Kotoko was not brainwashed into Despair like most; it simply befell her in the every day life she lived. Like many things, Sonia did wish to understand the reason; in a better world, there should’ve been no cause for a dear child to feel such hate and agony.

Unfortunately, she knew completely that this was not a better world.

“Utsugi,” she said in her most gentle voice, “I do understand that you see adults as demons,” and, quite honestly, that wasn’t an unfair judgement, “but may I ask what constitutes as an adult in your mind?”

[tatteredxsails]

[ @vocesofmd continuing from here ] contains mild S2 spoilers

[tw: suicidal ideation, implied drug use]

Ed was a spectator. He'd felt like a damn spectator through so much of his later life, but it felt especially true now. He was sitting back seat to everything that he was happening to -- and he was happening to a lot of things. Being an observer in the middle of a raid wasn't anything new, at least. He'd perfected that art a long time ago. His role in the raid was to show up and be Blackbeard. Didn't really fucking matter what that was, so long as he was there.

Then it had stopped mattering if he was even there. The flag would do it.

He'd made things more interesting for them, lately. They'd gotten good at sneaking, insofar as you could sneak in a ship. The relatively small size of The Revenge helped, in that regard. He'd gotten back up to some of his old tricks, finding ways to appear aboard the target vessel before they even knew that they were about to be raided. That was fun, at least.

He hadn't really been feeling the fun of this raid. He fell back into being a spectator, standing with a hand rested lazily on the helm as he watched the kids.

Wind 'em up and watch 'em go... he had implemented a few different ways to pump them up for a raid to varying degrees of success. Sometimes it was the fine powder he ground up in the cabin. That was usually a big hit. Other times, it was a thin peal of pain from his first mate. The kids weren't big fans of that, but it could be a motivator when necessary.

Speaking of the kids... Ed ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched a man drop in front of Frenchie. Big fuck-off kind of guy that Ed was surprised that Frenchie had decided to take on. Ed hadn't selected him out of Bonnet's collection of misfit toys for his skills with a sword. There was the sewing thing, sure. That was an excuse. The music was a better one, even though he didn't really ever let Frenchie play. Not anymore. The real, simple, reason was that he liked Frenchie.

He watched the man stagger back with a sword through his gut and disappear behind some barrels lashed at the far end of the deck. Fuck. He still liked Frenchie, for whatever that was worth. Not like he really felt much of anything lately, right?

Ed walked down the stairs as if he weren't strolling into the middle of a heated fight, surrounded by the sound of steel sliding and clattering against steel and the cries of the dying. Someone shot off a round near him, the ball slamming into the gunnel a few feet away. Huh. Shame they were a shit shot.

He wasn't. He lifted one of his pistols from his bandolier and fired off a round, effectively clearing the path he needed to take to get where he was going. There was probably some other reason he was doing this. Something about not being able to let go of Bonnet and Frenchie being an extension of that because he'd been on that crew or some other such bullshit he didn't want to think about.

Ed reached the barrels and braced a hand against one to peer over them at the fallen man, "Heeeey. You're not... dead... are you?"

[sensoryled]

@pulchramundii​ gets a starter.

❝ hey! wait up . . . mister lysandre, wait! ❞ marcellus hurries down the hallway after lysandre. it had taken him a moment to identify him, but ultimately, lysandre’s appearance is very . . . distinctive. there is also the fact that marc thinks that lysandre might not be aware of the coalition of team flare and lysandre labs. ( it can’t possibly go to the top, right? ) he appears before him, holding his ralts ( the only pokemon to which he currently has access ).

❝ sir, there’s something important i’ve gotta talk to you about. please, before someone comes looking for me. it should only take a few minutes, and i’m begging. ❞

[kingscyrus]

It took quite a bit to ruffle the crown princess of Cesare, but having someone nearly twice her height certainly came close. As soon as she came upon the King and lifted the veil she used to protect her face from the sun, she'd nearly let her jaw hang open in pure shock. However, for the moment, she merely pursed her lips into a line and took a breath before falling into a polite curtsy. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, your majesty. I am Arabella Cesario, crown princess of Cesare."

King Cyrus stood tall and imposing, his presence casting a shadow over the courtyard. As the crown princess of Cesare approached, her graceful demeanor belied the astonishment evident in her eyes. With a simple lift of her veil, she revealed her features, momentarily taken aback by the sight of the towering king before her.

With a regal nod, King Cyrus acknowledged her greeting, his deep voice resonating through the air like a rumble of distant thunder. "The honor is mine, Princess Arabella," he replied, his tone as commanding as it was courteous. "Welcome to my kingdom. I trust your journey has been without incident?"

Arabella's reaction did not escape his notice, her surprise a common occurrence when others encountered his towering stature. He offered a reassuring smile, hoping to set her at ease despite the apparent disparity in their heights.

Cyrus couldn't help but admire the princess's resolve. Her determination to maintain her composure in such unexpected circumstances spoke volumes about her character. He found himself intrigued by the prospect of forging an alliance with a ruler with an equal measure of grace and fortitude.

[liesandalibis]

THE SCENE IS TELLING—beer cans litter the common room, some of them sitting upright as makeshift ashtrays, others crushed and sloppily left on chairs, the floor. bits of trash and playing cards strewn across the table. a half-drunk bottle of whiskey exists as the centerpiece in all of this mess, accompanied by glasses that have since been knocked over and abandoned. company dwindles when jet turns in for the night, and ed and her doggy companion leave the remaining adults to their vacuous indulgences. three hours. that's how long they'd been drinking for. somewhere along the line faye had moved from the couch to the floor and stayed there. she's without her signature headband, which lies somewhere amid the litter. there's a cigarette butt tucked between her fading red lips and she's barefoot, idly rubbing the heel of one of her feet. a tower of ash hangs on for dear life and although her movement is sluggish, the ash eventually dislodges directly onto her lap when she shifts her weight. unaware, she pulls the cigarette from her mouth.

❝ so now that i've kicked your ass in card games, ❞ she starts, dropping the spent cigarette into one of the cans. there's a slight drag to her words that's only noticeable with certain vowels. she appears fine otherwise. ❝ i'd bet the woolongs in my pocket that i could wrestle you to the floor. right now. ❞

faye doesn't remember what they were talking about before then—if they had even been talking at all. something tells her to initiate. to break whatever looming silence there might have been. her eyes glide up spike's form under heavy eyelids; it's almost like she can't help herself. but she could take him. they've got to be about the same amount of sloshed by now. with a broadening smirk, ❝ this will be your only chance. so what do y'say? wanna try me, spiegel? ❞ / @reddragon-cowboy

[flxshy]

@cervidae-demon

"You seem the most annoyed in this hotel. Can you make me a Champaign and tell me about it?"

[truly-quirkless]

[@themultiversebundle | Plotted in DMs!]

It had been a rather quiet day, yet again..so Fin and Yagi had decided to walk about town. The tall blond still got a few odd stares, and every now and again, someone would walk up wanting an autograph. It had taken the world time to get used to Yagi as he was now- and while the whispers of 'the Symbol of the Dead' weren't exactly welcome...it was better that than All for One in the streets.

"What do you say to dropping by Smoothie King before we head back to the school?" Yagi's suggestion hadn't been in the air for more than a second when he bumped into something- or rather, someone. He took a stumbling step back, his smile instantly transforming to apologetic as he raised his hands. "Ah- sorry about that! I didn't mean to bump into you."

Huh....Fin wasn't exactly the best at Heroes, but this one...didn't look familiar. They'd seen a few ever since their rise in Hero society, but they had yet to see one that looked so...robotic? It wasn't like Ingenium or his younger brother, Ida- this felt...different.

Their eyes flickered towards the nearby store the stranger had stepped out of- revealing an interior beyond the door that very much wasn't what could be seen through the glass. They immediately jumped towards it- but the door slammed closed before they could catch it.

"Shit...!"

[starcunin]

closed starter | @faebhaal

The fire crackles softly in the heart of the camp, its embers casting a warm, flickering glow that struggles to reach the edges of the encroaching darkness. The night is deep, a blanket of velvety black pierced by the cold light of distant stars. The others have long since fallen asleep, leaving Astarion alone with his thoughts, the quiet murmur of the night, and the ever-present hum of his hunger.

His mind races, a remnant of the nightmare that dragged him from the fragile peace of sleep. Cazador’s voice echoes in his mind, a haunting litany of rules that once bound him so tightly: Thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. Thou shalt obey me in all things. The phantom weight of those commands makes his chest tighten, his throat constrict as though the very air refuses to pass. He’s free, isn’t he? The tadpole allowed him to break all the other rules, why not Cazador’s? Yet those words, etched into his psyche like the scars on his back, linger—unshakable, undeniable.

He sits up, pressing his hand to his forehead, trying to push away the lingering terror. But it’s not just fear that gnaws at him tonight. It’s hunger. The gnawing, ravenous hunger that never truly leaves him, that has only worsened since the night he drained that unfortunate boar. The taste had been ash in his mouth, unsatisfying and stale. His fangs throb with the need for something more.

And then there’s her. Ithaca. She sleeps just a few feet away, her small form curled under a thin blanket. In the pale light of the fire, her dusky orchid skin glows faintly, her rose-colored hair spilling like liquid dusk across her pillow. Those delicate features, so deceptively innocent in repose, belie the truth of her nature—violent, monstrous, and utterly captivating. He remembers the way she kicked that squirrel, the casual cruelty in it, the way her eyes had sparkled with something feral afterward. It had intrigued him, but it is her scent that now drives him to madness. She smells like honey and fresh flowers, like the very essence of spring, like sunlight captured in a bottle, sweet and golden and utterly irresistible.

He moves without thinking, a shadow slipping through the night, soundless, predatory. He finds himself standing over her, his breath catching in his throat as he gazes down at her peaceful face. She is beautiful, in a way that shouldn’t be possible for something so tainted, so damned. But it’s not just her beauty that draws him—it’s the hunger, the desperate need to know if he can. If the chains Cazador bound him with are truly broken. If he can sink his fangs into her soft flesh, taste that sweetness.

He leans down, closer, until he can feel the warmth radiating from her body, the subtle rise and fall of her chest. His fangs ache, his throat burns, and he is so close, so close he can almost taste her on the air. Just a taste, he tells himself. Just enough to know. His lips part, his fangs bared, and then her eyes snap open, violet rings burning against the darkness.

❛ Shit. ❜ The word slips out before he can stop it, as he jerks back, the spell broken. Fear, anger, and the remnants of his hunger twist inside him as he straightens, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But his dead heart races, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like a fool.

[thiefofcrows]

Plotted starter for @lostxtosunlight

       It had been two months since Yuki had officially taken the crow and cup tattoo and joined the Dregs. Raito hadn’t tried to bother them again — Kaz assumed he was too busy with doctor prescribed physical therapy. The thought shouldn't have given him so much satisfaction. Yuki, on the other hand, had spent his time training diligently and taking on jobs here and there as he grew more confident in his skills. They’d begun of course with hand-to-hand combat training and it was clear he already had some skill to begin with. As Yuki grew physically stronger, fighting him became more of a challenge.

       Once Kaz felt satisfied with that progress, he'd introduced knives into the equation — which, much to his delight, Yuki already had significant practice in that area as well. They'd been working on various strategies. Kaz gave Yuki insight into hiding at least two knives in his clothes at all times — which, given the keen way in which Yuki paid attention and, eventually, mastered it, it reminded him of when they were children. Kaz excidedly showing Yuki a new magic trick he'd been practicing, Yuki attempting it himself, Kaz simply delighted to have someone who did more than just feel an obligation to indulge him.

       The art of throwing knives effectively had been next and that took some time — it wasn't an easy skill to learn by any means, but just like with everything else so far, Yuki could eventually hit his target effectively with every throw. The more his skills developed, the more confident in himself he became ... and whatever tender things Kaz felt for Yuki before seemed to grow louder, more insistent. They became more of a heated smouldering thing that was difficult for Kaz to discern the meaning of — but with every stirring, he simply shut it down, burying it deeper.

       Unfortunately for Kaz, it didn't matter; those feelings somehow seemed to rise to the surface again and again. While he always ignored it when he saw it, Yuki's dark eyes often contained something a little heated and inquisitive — as if Kaz were a fascinating puzzle to solve. He wanted it to stop and he wanted Yuki to keep digging deeper simultaneously. It filled him with a sense of dread, terror and desire.

       Now, they were half way through training, having graduated to using Yuki's skill with knives along with hand-to-hand combat. He was slower today, seeming drained — and all Kaz had the mind to do was push him. At one point he swiped one of the training knives from Yuki's hand and dragged him close by the shirt with the other. He slid the training knife along his waist, giving an approximation of stabbing Yuki through the gut.

       ❝In a fight, the enemy will use any excuse, any opening to gain the upper hand. You don't have the luxury of taking it easy because you're not feeling your best. You have to ignore it, grit your teeth and push through. It's either that or you die.❞ Kaz let go of Yuki's shirt, his fist briefly pressing into the others chest just enough to nudge him back as he did so. ❝ Again. Try not to get fatally stabbed this time.❞

[erobret]

@palespawn

❝ IT'S YOU . . . THE ONE I HEAR IN THE PIPES . ❞ dark lashes brush pale cheeks in her slow blink . chains clink as she moves closer to the door but not getting close enough due to what restrains her . head tilts in curiosity , her pale hues widening in awe as she was finally able to put a face to the voice she would hear so often . ❝ did master send you ? is it feeding time ? it's been a few days since master threw me a rodent . i'm super hungry . i thought maybe i was bad and that's why master has been down to feed me . ❞

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

GRIMULF HAD CROSSED OVER yet again.

The insistent need for wanderlust led him deep into a cavern that felt like a portal, to another world.

The Rogue had been wandering this new realm for a few days when he found himself traversing through a thicket of lush forest where he felt the need to be careful. Certain vegetation, florals and fauna seemed less than friendly to outsiders.

It was here that he caught the scent of something delectable. The undisputed scent of baked goods!

Noteworthy scents were soft. Like a dash of vanilla flavoring along with something sweet, a fruit slowly cooked until soft. Finished off with rich, buttery hints of flakey promises and a sprinkling of sugary sweetness for good measure.

This scent caused a grunt to escape him while he savored it.

His stomach growled.

Driven by hunger his curiosity got the better of him, once again. He tracked the lingering scents trail until he came to what looked like an exceedingly quaint cottage. Inhabited and well cared for. With tended-to gardens and the perfect melding of the wilds meeting curated nature. Warm and welcoming but not too much. It felt like a loving curation, a display of art. A peaceful sanctuary in their personal corner of the cosmos, untouched by most.

Grimulf meandered up into the perimeter of the property, hopping over a picket fence and capturing the sight of the most heavenly creation he'd ever witnessed.

A trio of pies, cooling on the window sill, left seemingly unguarded.

The concept of a grab and run trickled up his spine and sent him in closer only to abort the mission at the last split second!

He was no thief, so he knocked on the door like a civilized monster and then took a step or two back convinced he'd scare the daylights out of whoever answered the door.

closed starter: @sweet-chimera