#winter sentence starters

[dodgerrpmemes]

Christmas Related Starters

“Are you not simply having a wonderful Christmas time?”

“It’s snowing!”

“Is that mistletoe?”

“I got you the biggest present.”

“Hot cocoa with marshmallows coming right up.”

“I’m going to demolish this entire gingerbread house.”

“Cosy pyjamas are my favourite.”

“Wanna snuggle up and watch Christmas movies together?”

“How is Rudolph the most famous reindeer if you have to ask if you recall him?”

“Can we go and look at Christmas lights?”

“I’m putting the star on the tree!”

“Have you left the cookies out?”

“I heard the Christmas market is in town.”

“I booked us a sleigh ride.”

“I hear sleigh bells!”

“Penguins are Christmassy, fuck you.”

“This is my favourite time of year.”

“That snow globe is beautiful.”

“The lights are all tangled!”

“Did you eat all the chocolates on the tree?”

[writingpromptneeds]

winter prompts. ❄️

'It's snowing!' 'I can't believe how much snow there is!' 'Did we get a blizzard?' 'Look at all this snow!' 'How do you not enjoy winter? The snow is beautiful.' 'I want to get cozy by the fire.' 'Some hot coca and a fire would be great right about now.' 'I'll get some wood for the fire.' 'Come on, we'll cuddle by the fire.' 'Let's build a snowman!' 'What happened to him? You ruined a perfectly good snowman!' 'Snowmen are over. It's time for snow dinosaurs.' 'He's so cute! Just look at the snowmen!' 'Wanna go sledding?' 'Don't you dare crash my sled.' 'Have you ever gone sledding before?' 'Oh, come on, that hill is perfect for sledding!' 'I can see it already. Death by sled.' 'Is this your first time skiing?' 'Nothing like zipping down a mountain on some skis.' 'Winter sports are the best part about winter.' 'Yeah, that's a no. I'll just hang out at the lodge.' 'Skiing is overrated. Snowboarding is better.' 'Wanna go snowboarding?' 'I want to do some jumps, come on.' 'You're definitely a snowboarder. You have that vibe.' 'Make sure to bundle up, it's cold outside.' 'Don't forget your winter coat!' 'Mittens! I love them!' 'You should get your hat, it's pretty chilly out there.' 'I can't believe how cold it is.' 'Better break out the winter coats.' 'I am not wearing five layers of clothes.' 'Are you declaring snowball war?' 'Duck for cover!' 'Snowball fight!' 'Hey, watch my head! You almost got me in the face!' 'Don't you dare shove snow down my back!' 'That is not a snowball, that's an iceball!' 'I got some gingerbread kits, wanna try one?' 'You ate half of my gingerbread house!' 'The kits are for cowards. I don't need instructions to build a structurally sound gingerbread house.' 'Yeah, so, all those candies were decorations. Not just a snack for the builder.' 'You bit my gingerbread man's head off!' 'Well, I've seen worse gingerbread creations.' 'What a time of year.'

[mimis-memes]

🍎  ｡:*• ─ CHRISTMAS PICK-UP LINES SENTENCE STARTERS.      ›    ( a compilation of various christmas/holiday-themed pick-up lines taken from various sources, for muses who are feeling flirty this holiday season !  feel free to adjust them to better fit your muses.   note: numbers 21 to 40 can be nsfɯ, so please read at your own risk ! )

nice & funny : 1.    ❝ There’s snow one like you ! ❞ 2.    ❝ When we met, it was love at frost sight ! ❞ 3.    ❝ I must be a snowflake because I’ve fallen for you. ❞ 4.    ❝ Hi, Santa said you wished for me. Good choice ! ❞ 5.    ❝ Are you Christmas ?  Because I want to merry you. ❞ 6.    ❝ There's snow place like your arms this Christmas ! ❞ 7.    ❝ Do you live in an igloo ?  Because you're pretty cool ! ❞ 8.    ❝ I didn’t think I was a snowman, but you just made me melt. ❞ 9.    ❝ If I was the Grinch, I wouldn’t steal Christmas. I’d steal you. ❞ 10.  ❝ I’ll be home for Christmas — and I want you to come with me. ❞ 11.  ❝ You make me more excited than gifts under a Christmas tree ! ❞ 12.  ❝ I don’t need Christmas lights, you’re already shining so bright ! ❞ 13.  ❝ The Grinch may have stolen Christmas, but you stole my heart. ❞ 14.  ❝ Let’s drink some hot tea in the snow. After all, ‘Teas the Season ! ❞ 15.  ❝ I don’t have a Christmas list, because you’re already the best gift. ❞ 16.  ❝ It’s the season of giving, so you should give me your phone number. ❞ 17.  ❝ Aren’t you supposed to be on top of that tree ?  Because you’re a star ! ❞ 18.  ❝ Let me take you on a first date in the snow. I promise I’m not going to flake ! ❞ 19.  ❝ Can I take a picture of you so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas ? ❞ 20.  ❝ If you were a tree, you’d be an evergreen, because I bet you look this good all year round. ❞ naughty & sexy : 21.  ❝ Let’s make this a not-so-silent night. ❞ 22.  ❝ Let me help you out of that ugly sweater... ❞ 23.  ❝ I want to fill you up with my... holiday spirit. ❞ 24.  ❝ How about I shimmy down your chimney tonight ? ❞ 25.  ❝ The only package I want this Christmas is yours. ❞ 26.  ❝ We don’t need a sleigh, you can ride me instead. ❞ 27.  ❝ Santa’s lap isn’t the only place wishes come true. ❞ 28.  ❝ Let’s both be naughty and save Santa the trip tonight. ❞ 29.  ❝ Is your name Winter ?  Because you’ll be coming soon. ❞ 30.  ❝ Let’s pretend to be presents and get laid under the tree. ❞ 31.  ❝ Your stocking isn’t the only thing I’ll be filling up tonight. ❞ 32.  ❝ Are you ornaments ?  Because I want you all over my tree. ❞ 33.  ❝ You're the first gift I want to unwrap on Christmas morning. ❞ 34.  ❝ Call me your Christmas tree, because you’re turning me on. ❞ 35.  ❝ Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me ? ❞ 36.  ❝ I was going to warm my hands by the fireplace, but you’re much hotter ! ❞ 37.  ❝ Do you like the song “Jingle Bells” ?  Because we could go all the way... ❞ 38.  ❝ Are you looking for a tree topper ?  Because I’ve been told I’m a star on top. ❞ 39.  ❝ I just got some mistletoe. How about we go back to my place and try it out ? ❞ 40.  ❝ I’m not Santa, but do you want to sit on my lap and tell me what you want this Christmas ? ❞

Sources: [ 1 ]  [ 2 ]  [ 3 ]

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too – 

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Prologue

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Parental abuse, nightmares, mentions wing clipping, starvation from being trapped, spoilers for ACOTAR series. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: (Eventual) Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After your family tries clipping your wings, you flee to the northern Illyrian mountains.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t every day you flew your way to the northern mountains of Illyria. It also wasn’t everyday your father tried clipping your wings when you refused to marry the brutal son of a terrifying male.

You flew until you couldn’t see any smoke from fires, tents, homes. You flew so far your wings began to falter from not only the assault they’d taken but the treacherous wind of the storm blowing in. You flew till you glided under the trees and finally stumbled to your feet, shaking from not only the cold, but what you just did. You ran away. You got out of that horrible household. Flinching from the memories as they rolled through, you stumbled over to a nearby small stream. The winter storm was drawing near, and from what the clouds looked like above, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.

Thank the Mother, you’d grabbed a bag of supplies on your way out. One of your brothers that they’d packed for a training session coming up. It had a small blanket, a starter for fire, a couple of sheathed daggers, and a canteen. Not a lot, but it would let you survive the storm as long as you got a fire going. As soon as some of the chill from the flight wore off, you went down to the clear stream, filling the canteen.

You just had to make it through the storm, and that would be enough. You would figure out what to do about your scratched, but healing, wings tomorrow.

But day break never came. When you’d woken from your exhausted slumber, your fire had burnt out, and you were completely snowed into the cave. You had gotten some food the night before, but it would only last you until that night, maybe the next if you’d packed snow on it to keep it from rotting. The water you had would keep you to a day or two after that, if you rationed it enough.

You knew it was a death sentence the moment you tried clawing your way out that night, not being able to take the darkness. You knew the Illyrian winter storm wouldn’t let up, and you knew that you’d die in that cave if some blessing didn’t come to melt away that snow.

You spent a long time shivering and exhausted in the pitch black cave. You’d ran out of water some time after you’d run out of the scarce food. Not that you knew what time it was, or how long had gone by. Seconds felt like minutes, hours like days. You strained your ears for any sign of the snow melting. Of footsteps outside the cave so you could scream for help. You thought you went mad when you felt something cold brush up against you, whisper that it would be okay. And that’s when the blessing came. When you felt the shadows wrapping themselves around you, almost in a comforting manner, and like a whisper on the wind, you were out in the bright sunlight. You had to blink for a minute to even adjust to the brightness.

It was the sound of the stream trickling and the light breeze on your face that had your eyes prick with tears. You had gotten out. By some miracle, you had gotten out.

You jolted awake, feeling the familiar shadows tracing around your shoulders, the tips of your wings, as you shot up from the bed. Glancing over to the male that was by your side, still sleeping, you scooted out of the bed. One that was too small even for your wings. Collecting your clothes, you slowly went into the dingy bathing room and prepared yourself for the day. After you’d put your clothes back on, you crept out of the room, the male whose name you’d forgotten still sleeping on the bed.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of the memory you re-lived as you walked out of the small inn and into the daylight, but stayed near the darkness of the trees as you made your way into town. You hadn’t thought about it in a long time, what had happened to you. The horrible last night seeing your blood family was one of the most terrifying experiences you had faced. Only one good thing came from it as far as you were concerned. You’d gotten your shadows. You learned to listen to them, hearing them whisper things about people around you, about the trees and animals. You learned to bend into them, letting them consume you when you wanted. As you pleased.

You supposed that your freedom was the other good thing that came of that night. Those days that were spent in the cave. But you were constantly looking over your shoulder as if your father and three brothers would be standing there, scowling, with the blades to clip your wings once and for all. The wings that took you so far north, you’d only found one small village when you gathered the strength to stray from the cave. The village you’ve spent the following 100 years of your life in.

You learned to earn your keep when a kind female of the name Sirona, the only village healer, took you in to help with your still injured wings and malnourished body. You’d stayed with her while you got back to your normal health, and hunted for her family until you started to help her with healing.

They hadn’t seen a Shadowsinger before. Only ever heard rumors of one that was close to the High Lord. Being so far north, they didn’t get much news from the Night Court, or from any Courts. It seemed only strong willed Illyrians who tried to take on the brunt of the northern mountain range ended up coming through your town. One of which you’d taken to bed the night before. Again, you couldn’t even bother to remember his name. He’d be flying back to his war camp soon enough.

Maybe a war camp where he would see your father and brothers. But wouldn’t tell of your abilities. Of your shadows. Because you’d only allowed outsiders to see them at night, when it could be a trick of the light. The only people you trusted were Sirona, her mate, Igna, and their son, Oran. And perhaps the other villagers, though you didn’t spend much time with them since you’d taken Sirona’s side in learning how to heal. Even if you didn’t have any powers other than your shadows, not that had been unearthed anyway, you learned other ways. How to bandage and clean wounds, to stitch them, to make tonics that would heal them faster. The village didn’t need it much, there wasn’t a lot of trouble here. But it felt good to be helpful.

So that’s what you were doing just a few days after your nightmare. You carried a basket of tonics around the village, delivering them to those who ordered it earlier in the week. Most were for females on their cycle, or contraception ones for them and their partners. You were making your way back to your small apartment, above Sirona and Igna’s house, when you heard doors start slamming shut.

“Run… not safe… help them…” you heard your shadows say in a panic. The next thing you knew, dozens of Illyrian wings littered the skies. You could even make out the bows they carried. You shifted back towards the back side of one of the shops, your shadows whirling around you, tugging you to go help the people who took you in all those years ago.

But you couldn’t move. Not as you scanned the Illyrians, worried this was when your father would finally come back to claim your freedom.

If you knew what was going to happen, you would have wished that was what happened. Wished your father, however terrible and brutal he was, came to get you that day. Because what happened next was worse than the failed wing clipping. Was worse than the days on end you spent stuck in the cave.

It was the day Amarantha came to claim you as her personal Shadowsinger.

Chapter One

A/N: Hello!! I hope you enjoyed the prologue! This is the backstory of the reader. This is very much a story about the reader rather than a love story (at least at the beginning. I’ve only written about half of what I plan to write.) I plan to eventually have reader and Azriel be love interests... Enjoy!

Add yourself to the taglist here

Series Masterlist

[sentientgolfball]

if you’re still doing the cute lil sentence starters can we do: “Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.”

for my beloved swiss alps (swiss/mountain)

WOE SWISSALPS BE UPON YOU

I need to write more of these two OUGH

The snow had stopped some time late, when not a single soul of the Ministry was awake save for the odd rodent. It left the land covered in a thick white blanket as far as the eye could see. The windows were frosted over, concealing the early winter morning from those who began to rise. The air in the abbey was frigid as Sibling and ghoul began their daily chores. The fire ghouls worked hard to shelter the ancient building from the bite of the cold. 

Deep in the ghoul den Swiss is wide awake. He normally stays in bed even after the first rays of the sun call to the little bit of fire in, but today he didn’t get woken from its light. Instead he was jostled from sleep when Mountain left the bed, mumbling something about duties when he pressed a kiss to Swiss’ forehead. He wasn’t fully conscious then, but now that he is he can’t close his eyes. 

He couldn’t even if he wanted to. If he had been more awake when Mountain left he would’ve stopped him. Winter leaves him drained, the frozen earth making it hard to hear his element. Yet Mountain continues to push himself. Swiss thought that by turning up his heat and curling close to his side he’d get Mountain to rest, but the snowstorm ruined his plans. Mountain would not rest until he was certain everything was handled. 

All Swiss can do now is go out there and bring him back. If Mountain won’t listen to his body then he’ll have to listen to Swiss. If he keeps pushing himself he’ll get sick, or worse. He doesn’t know what happens to an earth ghoul who refuses their hibernation and he doesn’t want to find out. He tries not to think about it as he fills a thermos with one of Mountain’s favorite blends of tea. Swiss gets himself bundled up before stepping out into the snowy world the Ministry has become. 

He tries the greenhouse first, assuming Mountain might be tending to some of the more versatile vegetation or pumping the place full of earth magick to keep things alive. He comes up short though, no Mountain in sight. No one in sight actually, not even a Sibling or another earth ghoul. He hums in disappointment before stepping back outside. 

“Alright big guy, where are you hiding?” He muses to himself as he scans the treeline. 

His eyes catch on prints in the snow. When he moves to investigate, he finds that they’d rather large hoof prints. They lead straight into the forest. 

“Bingo.” He smiles and begins to follow the trail. 

They lead him deep into the woods, thinning out every so often as the level of snow changes. He hopes maybe Mountain came out here to nest with Ivy in its den, maybe some weird earth ghoul bullshit calling out to him. He knows he’s wrong, but he can still hope. His only other hope is that Mountain isn’t passed out somewhere out here. Swiss may be strong but he’s not that strong. There’s no way he’d be able to get Mountain back to the Ministry. 

Thankfully it’s not long before he hears the rhythmic sound of someone chopping wood. He picks up his pace just a bit until Mountain finally comes into view. Despite the freezing temperatures, Mountain is sweating. His cheeks are flushed and every breath he takes results in large puffs of steam. He splits another log as Swiss calls out to him. 

“Glad to see you’re not dead!” He shouts as he walks over. 

“Why…would I be dead?” Mountain pants, tossing the two halves of wood onto a sizable pile. 

“Because, my love, you’re an idiot.” 

Before Mountain can even reply Swiss steps in front of him, extending the thermos out to him. Mountain hesitates before sighing and taking it from him. Swiss hums in satisfaction, wrapping his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and moving him to sit on a log. He must really be tired because he doesn’t protest, allowing himself to be guided. 

“Made it just for you. With that one rose blend you like.” Swiss crouches in front of Mountain, resting his hands on his thighs. His eyes shift from their normal black and white to orange and yellow as his fire comes to the surface. Mountain sighs appreciatively as the warmth bleeds through the layers of clothing. 

He uncaps the thermos, humming when the scent of the tea hits. He takes a long drink, practically chugging it. Swiss stares at him. Mountain would never drink so quickly, always going on about savoring the taste. When he finally pulls the container away, Swiss gets a good look at him. Past the flushed cheeks he looks pale. His eyes look sunken, dark lines carved under them. He’s exhausted. 

Swiss reaches out to take the thermos from him when Mountain extends it to him. He hisses when their hands brush against each other, “Momo your hands are ice. You need to take a break.” 

“Can’t. The fire ghouls need more wood for the abbey,” he mutters. 

“The fire ghouls aren’t gonna get any wood if you turn into a popsicle.” Swiss stands from his crouched position. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets before wrapping Mountain up in his arms, heat still radiating off of him. He feels him slump into it, muscles relaxing as he nuzzles his face against Swiss’ chest. He’s anxious to get Mountain back inside, maybe go to the bathing pools and lock the door. Let him soak in the hot water until he’s on the verge of sleep. Get him a hot meal and right back into their nest so he can rest. Even so, Swiss doesn’t rush him. He holds him like this until Mountain relents on his own. 

“I’ll let Ifrit know…” Mountain’s words are muffled where his face is still pressed against Swiss. 

He smiles and kisses the top of his head. He’s not going to say it outloud, but Swiss knows what he means. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to drag him back. 

“Let’s get going. I’ll make you that mushroom soup you like.” Swiss begins to pull away but Mountain tightens his grip. Swiss makes a questioning trill in the back of his throat. 

“Warm.” Is the only explanation Mountain supplies. 

Swiss just chuckles and presses another kiss to the top of his head, “Come on you overgrown caribou, I’ll let you wear my coat since you’re so cold.” 

Swiss shrugs off his canvas coat and drapes it over Mountain’s shoulders. He laces his hands with his, pulling him to his feet. They walk back to the abbey in comfortable silence. Swiss keeps his fire going the whole way, making sure his heart never freezes. 

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 stories and songs . . . 〗 a collection of sentence starters inspired by various codex entries from the dragon age rpg series. some prompts usfw. adjust details as necessary.

the wind that stirs their shallow graves carries their song.

heed our words, hear our cry.

oh, fair damsel of the garden!

surely your work is far too vital to be interrupted by one like me.

i was a fool to pluck that flower.

you are not a man known for your honor.

you allowed me to live once, and so now i do the same for you.

i am humbled by your words.

but some things cannot be repent.

there is something in here with us.

death is certain, either way.

you have been my rock and my shield.

strike true, do not waver. and let not your prey suffer.

as the sapling bends, so must you.

you are lost, and soon you will fade.

go forth and claim the empty throne of heaven.

you have brought doom upon the world.

magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

they shall find no rest in this world or beyond.

there is but one truth.

all things in this world are finite.

each night in dreams you may always remember me.

the light shall lead you safely.

i am but your faithful servant.

if blood must be shed and used, so be it.

step away from this folly, before it consumes us all.

i long to dance with you beneath the moonlight.

do not despair. for it is not you, it is of me.

my most heartfelt apologies for the ripped bodice.

such depravity i have never been forced to suffer!

let them hunt, and dread finding me.

truth will hold you for that is what truth does.

i shouldn't have doubted your resolve.

please accept my humble apologies.

in truth, it is i who has been most vulnerable.

the seals are already weakening.

it must be protected at all costs.

of unknown metal and magic keen, a finer blade there's never been.

any army is only as good as its equipment.

blessed by the vine in spring, i shall not fear the winter's sting.

only fools ignore the history of the ground they walk and the people they meet.

i could use an extra pair of eyes to keep watch at night.

i hope they found peace.

blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

in blood, my will is written.

we are forever in your graces.

the oath you have taken is all but broken.

can you be forgiven when the cold grave has come?

once we raised up our chalice in victory.

why change the past when you can own this day?

the wolves are our allies.

always keep an eye out for the noble owl.

nothing burns like the first cup.

gallows master, hold they hand. hold it back awhile.

look away, look into the sun.

you know we all are dying.

alas, i cannot stay.

we'll beat down the bastard, and then we'll get plastered!

what of the old secrets the burn in our hearts?

now we pray for a dawn that will never arrive.

but it is our blood he seeks.

you will realize the smiles are false, and behind them lies revenge.

for all your fancy intrigue, you have spent your life creating nothing of worth.

it moves on without you, uncaring.

who could bear the weight of a people destroyed by his hand?

what was your vision of our purpose?

so buy the lads a round.

i'm ashore for the night and seeking company.

i'd still rather die.

why be what i am when i can be more?

have you threatened to cut out anyone's tongue today?

for have i not grown in skill and measure?

binding a demon of higher power is dangerous...

let it be my choice to have served and died.

i'm not staying to watch you die like a fool.

the undead you have been fighting are people i killed with my own hands.

here is my soul, trapped in a cage of bone.

turn around, face the shadows. don't blink.

just going to lie here for a while.

chopping off their heads should do the trick.

i am empty, filled with nothing.

arrogance becomes our end.

i'm here to die. but i won't go quietly.

i don't want to die like this.

cry for the past; only there does glory dwell.

so the forest grows, a reflection of our might.

mourn the past and all that was left there.

mastery of the self is mastery of the world.

suffering is choice and we can refuse it.

pride disguises itself in its surety.

[bassettmemes]

IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR! a collection of sentence starters and prompts to inspire holiday/wintery interactions. trigger warnings for mentions of food and drink. 

❝ are you really playing christmas music already? it’s barely november! ❞

❝ come on, get in the spirit! dance with me. ❞ 

❝ if we’re having turkey for thanksgiving dinner, i’m not eating. the bird always looks at me funny and i’m not eating stuffing that’s been stuffed up a butt. ❞ 

❝ are you going to come sledding with us? it’ll be fun! ❞

❝ we can put up the christmas lights tonight! ❞

❝ i don’t want to be a grinch, but untangling lights isn’t exactly my favorite pastime. ❞

❝ let’s wear matching ugly christmas sweaters to the party! ❞ 

❝ do you think this eggnog is spiked? ❞ 

❝ don’t tell anyone, but, i spiked the eggnog. ❞ 

❝ you’re who i want to kiss at midnight on new year’s eve. ❞

❝ pucker up! you got caught under the mistletoe. ❞

❝ i didn’t know what to get you. i hope you like it. ❞ 

❝ you got me [insert gift here]? i love it. ❞

❝ please tell me that’s not a puppy yipping from the box... ❞

❝ isn’t it a little cliche to get engaged on christmas? ❞ 

❝ we always watch grandma got run over by a reindeer. it’s tradition! ❞

❝ i was sucking on this candy cane and accidentally made a weapon... ❞

❝ did you remember to get carrots to leave out for the reindeer? ❞

❝ i loved christmas as a kid, but i haven’t felt the magic in a long time... ❞

❝ do you want to bake cookies with me? ❞

SEND A WORD FOR A PROMPT. add + REVERSE to switch up who does what.

[ SKATES ] for sender and receiver to go ice skating.

[ COCOA ] for sender and receiver to get hot chocolate at a winter festival.

[ FESTIVAL ] for sender and receiver to go to a winter carnival. 

[ ICE ] for receiver to slip on some ice while walking with sender. 

[ FROSTY ] for sender and receiver to build a snowman.

[ ANGEL ] for sender and receiver to make snow angels.

[ MISTLETOE ] for sender and receiver to find themselves under the mistletoe.

[ TREE ] for sender and receiver to decorate the christmas tree. 

[ PRESENTS ] for receiver to open a present from sender. (bonus points for saying what the present is.) 

[ GRINCH ] for receiver’s reaction to sender not being in the holiday spirit. 

[ KITCHEN ] for sender and receiver to make a mess in the kitchen while cooking the holiday feast.

[ MIDNIGHT ] for sender to kiss receiver at midnight on new year’s eve. 

[ TIMES SQUARE ] for sender and receiver to watch the ball drop.

[eekshade]

I’m very for angst right now- Bucky in his Winter Soldier ‘mode’ in some way hurt his boyfriend who then was sent to the hospital. Later on when Bucky’s back to normal he realized what he did and feels very sad about it and visits his partner

sorry this took so long, i know it's not really what you were looking for, more of a hurt/comfort than angst.

Sorry, Sweet Home.

Bucky Barnes x m!reader

Word Count: 644

Warnings/Info: made this on my phone, this isn't really angsty, more fluff than anything, just a hospital scene; no actual violence, not proofread, no real warnings

Bucky sat in the pure white and blue hospital waiting room, speckles of color pop out in the minimalist paintings of nothing in particular. Tears pricked in his eyes as the guilt of harming you caused him to shudder deeply. How could he do this? How could he let himself slip like that? How could he hurt you when all you wanted to do was help? He felt numb as he shifted uncomfortably in the stiff seat.

The doctor came to him, Bucky didn't fully know what was said to him. The sound of his heart and nondescript buzzing flooded his ears. His body moved by itself as he made his way through the spotless hallway to your cleansed, pale room.

His eyes land on your somnolent body, he blinks to clear his eyes of the warm tears. His mind races a mile a minute, his self hate and shame boils in his heart. His body feels like it's going to give out underneath the weight of it all. His thoughts come to an abrupt end at the sight of your warm, shaky smile.

“Buck…? You okay?” You whispered, voice soft as a small kit.

“Am I okay?” His voice cracked deeply, taking a breath before continuing, “Are you?” He made no effort to move closer to you - the guilt stopping him.

“Of course I am, I can take you any day.” You jested, he let out a soft whimper at that.

“Honey, can you please come over here?” You pleaded with a warm smile.

He nodded hesitantly, pulling up a chair to the side of your bed. Knees pressed against the soft plush of the mattress, the contrast of the cool metal bringing him no comfort.

“I am so sorry.” He apologized, voice barley audible out of fear that if he spoke too loud, he wouldn't be able to get the sentence out. Tears running down his soft cheeks, the salty taste enters through the corner of his lips.

“Hey, no no no, don't do that. It's not your fault.” The pads of your thumbs gently wipe the tears off of his pretty face.

“-But I put you here? How could this not be my fault? I let myself go, and I let myself hurt you.” He croaked, “ I'm a monster.” He avoided eye contact like the plague, opted to look at his hands tangled with yours.

You broke into laughter, warm and bubbly, he looked up at your face, confusion gracing his angelic features.

“Sorry, I just, I love you so very much. Do you know that?” You snickered.

“Callin’ yourself a monster, but - god, I mean, look at you.” You say with a harsh snort.

“What does that mean?” He smiles at you, guilt seeping out of his system at your antics.

“Well, for starters you have an entire bookshelf of only fantasy, you organize your clothes by color, you're insanely good with kids, you love carnivals, you fold your socks, you are a cat whisperer, do you need more?”

He looks at you sweetly, opening his mouth to respond, but he closes it when he can't find the right words to choose. He looks down at his lap, a lovely smirk on his lips. He's trying to hide it almost like he's embarrassed of himself for being so easily swayed.

“Look at me.” You responded curtly. His blue eyes swiftly look up at you, shaken by your icy tone.

You lean in and leave a quick tender kiss on his slightly chapped lips, he chases your lips as you pull away. He whines as you stop him from continuing. You rest your forehead on his, your breath mixing together, “I love you, Buck, so so much.” You mumble into the small space between you two.

“I love you more.” He kisses your cheek.

“Sure sure.” You scoff, catching his lips once more.

MARVEL MASTERLIST

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 2 Prompt: Winter Sentence Starters

3. Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon?

Pairing: Pre-Steddie | wc: 1664 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Steve?” Eddie asks, squinting into the blinding lights of the familiar burgundy Beamer that’s parked in front of the mound of snow where the driveway usually is. It’s hard to see with the blinding lights and the sunrise bouncing off the bright snow, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s Steve. He’s the only one who drives a Beamer around these parts of town, that’s for sure.

Sitting up on the outdoor couch, he adjusts the bundle of blankets around his shoulder. His hand fumbles in between the couch cushions until he finds the half-empty box of cigarettes and the lighter he and Wayne keep stashed there “in case of emergencies.” It’s a bit of a chore given the gloves covering his hands, but he gets the job done and brings the lit smoke to his winter-chapped lips. After a slow exhale, he tries again.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?”

There’s a clattering on the other side of the Beamer, followed by a string of curses before a figure emerges in the shadows of the lights. “Jesus dude,” Steve gasps. One hand stays pressed against his chest, the other clings to a snow shovel. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be inside it’s freezing out.”

It is freezing out, but there’s not that big of a difference between out here and inside Eddie’s bedroom. Not since the space heater took a shit at 2 am. He tried to fix it, he did. But it’s actually really damn hard to fix a space heater at 2 am when you’ve only slept for an hour because of chronic pain and nightmares and you can’t find the damn toolbox that’s supposed to be tucked away in the closet.

Frustrated beyond belief, Eddie needed a smoke and one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew he was being woken up by the rumbling of Steve’s Beamer. At least he was smart enough to put on gloves and wrap himself in his duvet before coming out here.

“Seriously, man. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“You know the dramatics are my thing,” Eddie teases, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’ve got a blanket and gloves.” Eddie wiggles his fingers for extra emphasis. “And this head of hair isn’t just for looks. Actually keeps me pretty warm too.”

Steve snorts, absentmindedly tugging on the end of his scarf. “Yeah, okay, man. Whatever you say.”

“So, I ask again,” Eddie says, pausing to exhale another puff of smoke. “What are you doing here at whatever time it is.”

“It’s 5,” Steve supplies, then holds up the snow shovel. “Who do you think shovels the snow around here since you’re out of commission? The snow fairy?”

The smoke in Eddie’s lungs gets trapped as his body tries to laugh and instead, he sends himself into a coughing fit that has him clutching his already aching sides. “First of all fuck you. Don’t joke about fairies!” he says, all bark no bite. “Secondly, I usually shovel the snow, but as you are aware, I’m still not allowed to lift more than two pounds thanks to our wonderful Spring Break adventures.”

“And you’re milking that for all it’s worth.”

Eddie’s quick to flip him the bird, rolling his eyes in the process. “S’Wayne paying you? That old bastard better not be paying you. I never got a dime when he made me shovel.”

“Probably because you always forgot, right?”

“You know what, Steve,” Eddie starts, trying to get up from the couch when a rush of pain races up his torso. Jesus H. Christ, he should be used to this by now. Biting his lip to keep the groan in, he settles himself back on the couch.

“M’just messing with you, Eds,” Steve says, shooting him an apologetic look. If anyone knows the pain he’s going through, it’s Steve. And yet, Steve’s wounds healed in record time, and Eddie’s on month nine of barely being able to make it down the three steps of his trailer. Yet another unfairness the universe has drawn for him.

“I was over helping the Mayfields during the last big storm and saw your uncle struggling to park after his shift. Figured if I’m here helping Max, I could help you guys out too. No big deal.”

Eddie’s not sure what universe Steve lives in, but agreeing to do manual labor for free is a big deal. A massive, big deal, actually. At least, in his universe it is. He doesn’t sign up for any sort of manual labor unless he’s getting paid. Fuck capitalism and all that, but also, you know, it’s only fair to cash in when it benefits him.

“Right, well, m’sure my uncle appreciates it.”

“He does,” Steve nods, resting the shovel on his shoulder. “So, you gonna quit distracting me now so I can get to work?”

Eddie extends one glove-covered hand out in front of him, fanning it out over the mountain of white snow separating them. “The snow is yours, my liege.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He takes a few steps away from the Beamer before repositioning the shovel in his hands. In one fluid motion, he drives the shovel the mix of  fresh and packed snow. The metal clatter against the frozen chunks at the bottom but the sound doesn’t drown out the groan that leaves Steve's lips as he hoists a giant pile of snow up and over to the side.

Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie takes an extra long drag from his cigarette, eyes glued to Steve as he does the same thing again. He holds the smoke in his lungs, tries to concentrate on not choking as he watches Steve shovel another massive pile of snow away.

There’s at least twenty feet of distance between them, but Eddie’s eyes are glued to Steve. His pale blue puffy jacket does a lot to obscure his muscles, but Eddie’s always had an overactive imagination. He doesn’t need a clear visual to know that Steve’s biceps are straining every time he hoists the shovel out of the snow. Or the way his back muscles flex, showing off that swimmer's upper body of his.

Steve’s ditched snow pants like most do around here and instead has his trusty pair of blue jeans on. Eddie knows from experience that denim does little to shield the freezing temperatures, but he can’t complain. Not when Steve’s ass is on full display when he squats to investigate what the shovel has just slammed into. (A stray dog toy from two trailers over.)

If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to be in trouble. Even the cold as fuck temperature can’t keep the blood from rushing to his dick for long. A blessing and a curse, Eddie supposes.

Taking another drag, Eddie tilts his head so it rests against the headrest of the couch. Exhaling, the plume of smoke and cold air mix, getting whisked away in the early morning breeze. It might actually be colder now than it was at 2 am.

With his head still turned upward, he can hear the rhythmic sounds of Steve shoveling the snow. The clink of the metal shovel with the snow, the scrape as he digs it down to the pavement. The occasional huff of frustration when Steve’s bitten off more than he can chew. Stubborn as always.

If he keeps making noises like that though, Eddie’s going to need a lot more than a smoke and a new direction for his eyes to keep his mind out of the gutter—

Speaking of gutters, they really need to get someone to clear out all the damn icicles clinging to them like damn Christmas trees. One harsh slam of the door and he or Wayne is going to take an icicle straight to the head. A month in a coma, seven months of physical therapy, and one dropped murder charge is not going to go to waste over a goddamn icicle. Not if he can help it at least.

Honestly, out of all of that, he’s still most upset about the murder thing. He won’t even go fishing with Wayne after that one year with the fish who flopped around practically hasping for breath until Wayne stabbed it with his pocket knife. Never again. Eddie prefers his food already cooked and void of eyes thank you very much.

Besides killing someone in his house is way too obvious. An amateur move if he’s ever seen one. He’d at least been more smart about it. If he was going to kill someone, but he’s not. Obviously. But if he was, Eddie’s thoughts trail off as the sun catches on the translucent icicle, washing his body in the warm rays of sunlight.

“You know, icicles would make the perfect murder weapon.”

The sound of the snow shovel clattering to the floor startles him. His head whips in the direction of the noises. It takes a moment a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light, but when they do Steve is staring at him, hands on his hips and a frown tugging at his pale lips.

“Maybe don’t joke about murder when we’ve just cleared your name,” Steve scolds, shaking his head. “Or do you want to go back into hiding?”

Eddie’s mouth is faster than his brain, words tumbling out before he has a chance to realize the implications of his words.

“Depends. Would you be hiding me again?”

A sickening silence falls between them as all the blood in Eddie’s body rushes to his cheeks. At least his nose isn’t cold anymore. He’s two seconds away from scampering into the trailer, head slung low in embarrassment when Steve’s unabashed chuckle breaks the silence.

“You can crash at my place anytime, you know.”

No, Eddie did not know that. But now? Now, he thinks that damn space heater isn’t worth bothering Wayne for after all.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Winter of 1975

Prompt Day 2: Winter Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 1200 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, Innuendo | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Softness, Steve POV

"Did I ever tell you about the winter of '75?" Eddie asks, curling up on the couch next to Steve, tucking his feet under him.

Steve shakes his head no, at least he doesn't think so. Or if he has, Eddie didn't word it like that.

"When you were ten?" Steve asks. 

Eddie nods, "When I was ten. My mom had died, you know, earlier that year. And my dad, well, you know."

Steve nods. He knows. He stretches his arm out, and lets Eddie curl into him.

"Well, Uncle Wayne was bound and determined to make it a good Christmas. It wasn't possible, not really, but he was gonna try his best."

Steve smiles, that sounds like Wayne. If there's anything Steve knows, it's that Wayne Munson loves Eddie. 

"Well, he took me sledding. I broke my arm. He bought a real tree. I was allergic to pine. We made hot cocoa on the stove, and I dropped it, nearly scalding my feet. Just, you know, everything that could go wrong, did. It's the Munson way," Eddie says, with a laugh. 

Steve kisses him on the head, and tries to remember what the Christmas of 1975 looked like for him. He imagines he got all the toys he wanted, and his parents hosted parties in their house that he wasn't invited to attend. Sitting on the second floor, little hands gripping the slats of the railing, just hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on, down below. Hoping to see his parents, for just a few minutes. The usual.

Those nights were always the worst. As soon as he got home from school, they'd feed him an early dinner and send him straight up to bed. And then the activity started downstairs, without him. He wonders now, as an adult, why they didn't just invite some kids? They could have still been corralled upstairs, away from the party, but he wouldn't have been all alone. Even if it was just Tommy H. That would have gone a long way to making them tolerable.

Eddie continues talking, "But Uncle Wayne kept trying. He bought me a Pet Rock," Eddie says, with a laugh. "I begged for it in the store, and it cost four dollars. He bought it and handed it over, and I opened the box. And it was a rock."

Steve laughs, he had one, too. Everybody did, he's pretty sure.

"Well, the name was pretty clear about what it was," Steve says.

"I know. I just wanted it to be something else, I guess. Something a little more lively. It was just a rock. Whoever invented that was a genius. Think of all the money they made. For rocks."

Steve smiles at him.

"But, Uncle Wayne just bought me some paints, and brushes, and told me to make it whatever I wanted it to be then."

Eddie smiles, "So I did. I gave it eyes, and some hair, and it looked a little goofy. But it had some personality."

"Like you," Steve says, hugging Eddie closer. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, "Anyway. I loved it after that. But, I still had paint, so Uncle Wayne got me a sketchbook. And I started drawing, and then painting what I'd drawn. Like my own coloring book, but filled with everything I liked, and nothing for little babies," Eddie says, laughing. "The fridge was full of weird shit that was coming out of my brain."

Steve nods. Weird shit is still coming out of Eddie's mind, and he loves it all. Every last thing. He might not understand it all, but he likes that Eddie is curious about the world around him. That he has opinions. Strong opinions, sometimes, sure. Even wrong opinions in Steve's mind. But opinions. Eddie wants to talk about the things that run through his mind, and Steve wants him to, always willing to listen.

"Anyway. I learned to draw. To paint. To love art, because of that Pet Rock. I designed all my own tattoos. I did the Hellfire logo. It gave me an outlet I didn't know I needed or wanted."

Steve kisses his bare shoulder, hoping he'll continue. He loves to hear him talk. 

"Well, all that said," Eddie says, pulling a wrapped box out from under the coffee table, and handing it to Steve. 

It's not Christmas, not yet.

"It's not Christmas yet," Steve argues.

"It's not a Christmas present," Eddie says.

"The wrapping paper says otherwise," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, pinching his side. It is wrapped in red, with a heavy fabric bow that there's no way Eddie did.

"Who wrapped this?" Steve follows up, needing to know. Because it damn well wasn't Eddie.

"Excuse you? You don't think I could wrap this?" Eddie asks, acting very affronted by this accusation.

Steve just raises one eyebrow.

"Erica did," Eddie mutters, "just open it."

So, Steve opens it, carefully. And when he pulls back the tissue paper, it's a painting of the two of them. From a million years ago. Walking through the forest. But it's not dark, and red, like it really was that night. Here, it's lush and green, with the sun shining overhead, casting gorgeous shadows all through the trees. 

It's stunning. 

Steve meets Eddie's eyes, "It's beautiful."

"Well, it's only beautiful because you are," Eddie says, and Steve blushes. Just a little. Even after all these years.

"When did you have time to do this?" Steve asks, because he definitely hasn't seen Eddie working on a canvas lately. He'd have noticed that. The mess alone. The mugs of dirty, paint stained water. The countertop lined with drying brushes.

He's seen no evidence of any of that. 

Eddie smiles, "I did it at Wayne's. During our Sunday morning breakfasts. We talked while I painted. And yes, I cleaned up my own messes," Eddie says, dryly.

Steve just smiles at him.

"It's really good, Eddie. Really, really good. You could do this, if you wanted to. For a living."

Eddie just laughs, "We definitely don't have the luxury of me painting with the hopes that I'll sell some of them. And that's okay. Maybe someday," Eddie says.

Steve knows he's right. They aren't exactly rolling in money, but maybe someday they'll be better off, and Eddie will be able to just stay home, doing something he loves. Wouldn't that be something?

"You know, I do have other ideas of things to paint…" Eddie trails off, and the glint in his eye means he's definitely up to no good.

"Oh lord, what?" Steve asks, suspicious of that look in his eye.

"How do you feel about posing nude for me?" Eddie asks, giving him the eyes.

Steve barks out a laugh. Sure. He'll pose nude for Eddie. It's not like he's shy or anything. Eddie has definitely seen it all before.

He only has one question.

"What are you gonna do with it once you're done?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrow, imploring for the truth.

Eddie just grins, that evil grin of his, and Steve shakes his head. Oh well. He definitely knew what he was getting into once he decided to spend his life with Eddie Munson. 

Notes: Pet Rocks were, in fact, all the rage for the Christmas of '75. A the guy who made them made, like, a million dollars. 🪨 💰

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

[rpmemes-galore]

lyrics from the songs on my oldies playlist ... sentence starters

"You're a fine girl."

"It doesn't hurt me."

"Here comes the sun."

"Yeah, you turn me on."

"Come and get your love."

"Where did we go wrong?"

"I believe this is killing me."

"You don't wanna hurt me."

"You had a busy day today."

"Don't you feel right, baby?"

"I'll remember you this way."

"Say your prayers, little one."

"I couldn't leave her if I tried."

"You come to look for a king."

"Surely heaven waits for you."

"Lay your weary head to rest."

"Welcome to the human race."

"Hey, you with the pretty face!"

"My, my, how can I resist you?"

"I'm not really sure how it goes."

"Only you, and you can hear me."

"What a good wife you would be."

"You had to hide away for so long."

"But it's better than drinkin' alone."

"Son, can you play me a memory?"

"Look at me now, will I ever learn?"

"Never mind that noise you heard."

"All we need is just a little patience."

"You know that I'm not that strong."

"What's the matter with your mind?"

"It's been a long, cold, lonely winter."

"Tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes."

"Night is young and the music's high."

"There'll be peace when you are done."

"There'll be peace when you are done."

"And today is the day we've waited for."

"And now she's in me, always with me."

"I've been too long, I'm glad to be back."

"Take it slow and it'll work itself out fine."

"Well, we're all in the mood for a melody."

"I wish that every kiss was never-ending."

"Disappointment haunted all my dreams."

"You just don't realize what you do to me."

"I thought love was only true in fairy tales."

"Let me steal this moment from you, now."

"Your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea."

"With a bit of rock music, everything is fine."

"See how the sun shines brightly in the city."

"What's the use in trying? All you get is pain."

"But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea."

"I think you know that you won't be away too long."

"I've been cheated by you since I don't know when."

"Love was out to get me. That's the way it seemed."

"Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way."

"Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making?"

"I was made for you and, girl, you were made for me."

"I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me."

"And I can't get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me?"

"And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know."

"And wouldn't it be nice to live together? In the kind of world where we belong?"

"When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's alright."

"But it's sad, and it's sweet, and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes."

[oh-nostalgiaa]

Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Five

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

28 Days of Smut Prompts

50 Dialogue Prompts, Part Two

50 Vague Angsty + Hurt / Comfort Dialogue Prompts

50 Ways to Say I Hate You Prompts

79 Dialogue Prompts

After the Kiss Response Prompts

And They Were Roommates Prompts

Angst Prompts for All Your Heartbreak Needs

Angsty Dialogue Prompts

Angsty Sentence Starter Prompts

Arranged Matrimony for Royalty Prompts

Baby, It's Cold Outside Prompts

Best Friends to Lovers Prompts

Bubbly + Reserved Romance Dialogue Prompts

Childhood Exes to Lovers Prompts

Childhood Friends to Lovers (Reuniting & Reigniting) Prompts

Chilly Winter Prompts

Christmas Pick-Up Lines Sentence Starter Prompts

Comforting Sentence Starter Prompts

Confrontation Prompts

Dancing in the Rain Prompts

Death Prompts That Tore My Heart Apart

December Prompts

Defending the Right to Not Say Prompts

Dire Situations Prompts

Emotional Hurt / Comfort Prompts

Emotional Starters to Kick You in the Feelings Prompts

Extremely Self-Indulgent Prompts

Fan x Celebrity Prompts

Fluffy Moments Prompts

Gestures to Get You on Your Knees Prompts

Hand Touching Prompts

Heartbreak Sentence Starter Prompts

Hurt / Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Hurt / Comfort Dialogue Prompts, Part II

Hurt / Comfort Dialogue Prompts, Part III

Hurt and Comfort Dialogue Prompts

I Love You Prompts

Injured & Healers Prompts

January Prompts

Kiss Sentence Starter Prompts

Love Languages - Quality Time Prompts

Magic Fatigue / Exhaustion / Overuse Prompts

Meaningful Gestures Prompts

Modern Royalty AU Prompts

More Break-Up Dialogue Prompts

More Sick Prompts

More Teasing Dialogue Prompts

Mostly Angsty Drabble Prompts

Non-verbal Starter Prompts

Noticing / Being Noticed Prompts

One True Pairing Moments Prompts

Other Ways to Say I Love You Starter Prompts

Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body Prompts

Physical Contact Starter Prompts

Pillow Thoughts Prompts

Post-Breakup AU Prompts

Prompt List #1

Prompt List #2

Prompt List #3

Prompt Set 2

Prompt Set 3

Prompt Set 7

Prompt Set 8

Prompt Set 10

Prompt Set 18

Prompt Set 25

Prompts for Angsty Conversations

Prompts for Characters Who Are Slowly Falling in Love

Question Sentence Starter Prompts

Random Angsty Sentence Starter Prompts

Reunion After Physical Trauma Prompts

Romantic Date Dialogue Prompts

Roommates to Lovers (Who Are Scared to Confess) Prompts

Royal Arranged Marriage Dialogue Prompts

Royalty Dialogue Prompts

Royalty Forced Marriage to Actual Lovers Prompts

Scenarios with Undertones of Tension Prompts

Seduction Starter Prompts

Send a Number to Do X With Prompts

Set the Scene Prompts

Sexy / Suggestive Dialogue Prompts

Sinful Sentence Prompts

Six Word Sentence Starter Prompts

Softer Shippy Prompts

Spending Time Together Prompts

Super Soft Intimacy Prompts

Symbol Meme Starter Prompts

Tearful Goodbye Prompts

Teasing Prompts

Tired / Exhausted / Feeling Very Weak Starter Prompts

Tol & Smol Prompts

Valentine Interactions Prompts

Valentine's Day Prompts

Where to Land Prompts

Whump Dialogue Prompts

Words of Love Prompts

Worried Sentence Starter Prompts

Year of the OTP 2023 Prompts

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 2: Winter Sentence Starters (Sentence Starter Saturdays)

"Holy shit!" Eddie shrieks, his voice regrettably echoing around the small quarters of Family Video's storage room, "Your hands are freezing!"

He envelopes Steve's hands in his own, brings them to his mouth and starts blowing. Steve grimaces and attempts to yank his hands away, but Eddie only tightens his grasp.

"Don't you have any mittens!" he continues, frantic as they now tug back and forward.

"No way," Steve scoffs, "I'm not walking around with an ugly pair of mittens pinned to my jacket."

He cocks his chin and his eyes flit down to the set of navy-blue mittens joined by a length of matching yarn and attached to Eddie's worn parka jacket via two safety pins.

"Excuse me!" he defends, letting go as he brings his hands to his chest to shield his mittens from further insult.

Steve giggles, "You look like a kid going off to kindergarten."

Eddie holds up a warning finger and feels his jaw clench, "My mittens are pinned to my winter jacket so I know where they are at the beginning of winter when I need my winter coat and mittens! Then, when I enter a premises that is supposed to be warm – to seek out my boyfriend whose hands should be warm – I pin them straight back on my jacket for safekeeping. It makes perfect sense!"

"So this was Wayne's idea because you kept losing them?" Steve asks, raising a brow and smirking.

"... Yeah," Eddie admits, looking down at his mittens.

The embarrassment is fleeting (this is practical for god sake!) and Eddie moves to unpin them.

"Eddie, I'm not taking your mittens!"

"Take my mittens!"

"How am I supposed to work in them?"

"You can stack away returns in a pair of mittens," Eddie offers, twirling the mittens by their joined string.

"And how am I going to type or use the phone?"

Eddie pauses and bites the inside of his cheek.

Damn it, he always has a checkmate defence.

"Turn the AC up!" he says with a click of his fingers.

"Can't," Steve grumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the built-in shelf that was supposed to support their regularly scheduled make-out session, "The AC is broken."

"What!" Eddie looks around, waving his hand about, "Where's your customer complaint form? Suggestion box? Something like that?"

"Eddie, you are not filing a complaint to Keith."

"I sure am!" he nods, determined, "Complaint or my mittens. Your choice, babydoll."

[jolteon-rph]

WINTER / SEASONAL STARTERS.

A bundle of seasonal starters for winter, unrelated to any particular holiday.

Feel free to change the prompts and/or sentences as you see fit, or combine them to make a new prompt.

TW: Swearing/cussing.

Emoji prompts:

❄️: Our muses are caught out in the snow together.

⛸️: Our muses go ice-skating together (at an ice rink or frozen body of water).

🔥: Our muses make a bonfire together.

🏔️: Our muses take a winter hike together.

🛒: Our muses go winter shopping together.

🥾: Our muses go camping together in the snow.

✨: Our muses go stargazing together.

☃️: Our muses make a snow sculpture together.

🧥: My muse offers your muse their coat to keep them warm (add a ‘+’ for the reverse).

✋: My muse puts their cold hands onto your muses back to surprise them (add a ‘+’ for the reverse).

🌨️: My muse throws a snowball at your muse (add a ‘+’ for the reverse).

♨️: My muse offers your muse a warm beverage (add ‘+’ for the reverse).

🧤: My muse catches your muse as they’re about to slip on some ice (add ‘+’ for the reverse).

🧣: My muse gives your muse their scarf (add ‘+’ for the reverse).

Sentence prompts:

“It’s colder than a witches tit out here. Should’ve brought a coat.”

“Your face is all red from the cold...”

“Feel how cold my hands are! Feel them.”

“Aren’t you cold in just that? I’m freezing in my coat!”

“Maybe it’s time we head back inside... I think I’m going to catch a cold if we sit out here all night.”

“The snow is so pretty when its freshly fallen. Shame it gets ruined by the time everyone’s trodden in it.”

“It’s a bit nippy. You’re gonna need a scarf, at least.”

“I don’t feel the cold. I just power through it.”

“Maybe we could get some hot chocolate from that cafe, over there?”

“Are you looking forward to the new year?”

“I have a... slush on you. Or does ‘I glove you’ sound better?”

“Quit playing in the snow. We’re not kids.”

“The star’s are so pretty in the winter. I love it when the sky is so clear.”

“You know what? There’s... snow way out of winter... hehe.”

“What if I pelted you with a snowball. Would you cheer up then?”

“I think you need to get some better shoes. You’re gonna slip and slide all over the place in those things, with all the ice around.”

“I can’t stand how dark it gets, so early, this time of year!”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 2 - Winter Themed Sentence Starters

3. Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon? 

pairing: pre-steddie | word count: 426 | rated: G

“Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon?”

Of course, like always, the fact comes unprompted. Eddie had been staring out the front window of Family Video all morning, even through the rush Steve and Robin had just gone through. 

It’s been a couple days since he and Eddie had officially decorated for Christmas, and the ice storm that swept through Hawkins the night before had pretty much leveled anyone but the Family Video staff’s attempts at going to work that day; so of course they all decided to come in and rent a movie or three for their unexpected day off.

“Is that what you’ve been staring at all morning? The icicles?” Robin asks, unbelieving.

Leave it to Eddie to stare out at the frozen water hanging off their roof for hours on end. Steve sighs, “Eddie, darling, love of my life, I cannot handle another one of your not-actually-that-fun fun facts right now.”

And, naturally, Eddie ignores him (though the blush on his cheeks at Steve’s blatant flirting–flirting that the metalhead still hadn’t done anything about by the way, why kiss him then not do anything more about it??–was a nice addition to his face). “It’d be perfect, Steve! They’d never figure out what killed ‘em; The icicle would just melt away and boom! You’re out one murder weapon and one set of guilty fingerprints.”

“There wouldn’t be fingerprints in the first place would there? I wouldn't want to hold something that cold with my bare hands, you’d have to wear gloves.”

“Robin, don’t encourage hi—”

“You wouldn’t have as good a grip with gloves on.”

Steve drops his head to the counter in exasperation.

“You think you’d have any better grip with bare hands??”

“Well yeah, your hands would do the same thing to the icicle that your tongue does to a metal pole, right? They’d just stick.”

“Then the police would have really good fingerprints since your skin would get ripped off when you try to leave the thing behind.”

“So don’t leave it behind. Take it with you and let it melt.”

“As if you would get away without someone seeing you carting around a bloody icicle…”

“Why am I friends with you two again?”

“You love us,” Robin waves him off and goes back into her conversation with Eddie about any possible ways they could test their theories.

Steve just laughs, shakes his head, and settles in for the next few hours of his life with two of the three dorks he cares about most in this world.

me 🤝 eddie munson enjoys not-that-fun fun facts

linking other parts here! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year