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chouette417
Chouette
valyrou
Val
blackmail4u
Black History: Special Delivery!!
sissyforbbccum
Untitled
ben-swan
This is me.
Conversation
random sentence starters
" Please, help me hide. I gotta get out of here- "
" ...I swear I know you from somewhere. "
" Are you new here? "
" HELP! "
" Just hold on, I'll help you as much as I can. "
" Were you the one who left this here? "
" Uh... What the hell are you doing? "
" Stay away from me! "
" I swear I saw you on the news. Are you really (muse name)? "
" How are you doing that?! "
" This can't be happening. This can't be happening! "
" And here I was thinking this was going to be a normal day. "
" Is this safe? "
" Is this even legal? "
" You can't be serious. "
" Are you going to finish that? "
" What are you doing here so late? "
" No one's supposed to be here. "
" Get out! "
" Are you okay...? "
" I didn't think you'd be here... "
" That's dangerous. Do you even know what you're doing? "
" Can I buy you a coffee? "
" I got this for you. "
" Is this your dog/cat/pet? "
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oh hi hi hello hi! i’m here but not also here, trying to clear out my wardrobe and such! but, like 4 a starter that will be pumped out along with replies!
#X|out of power|X#i love this icon#blossom: unfazed by silly bois tbh#i have so much packing and shit to do#but i have like 2 weeks todo it ayy#indie rp#X|starter call|X#starter call
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YA BITCH DONE DID PASSED 4TH YEAR. IM GRADUATING WITH A BA HONS IN GRAPHIC DESIGN BE-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
#im sat crying in a starbucks lmao#my wifi cut out so i had to spRINT#to get a fuckin coffee so i could use their shitty wifi to get online and check my results#IM SO PUMPED LMAO I THOUGHT I HAD FAILED#X|out of power|X
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* hurt prompts
‘ are you bleeding? ’
‘ take it easy. you hit your head. ’
‘ where does it hurt? ’
‘ sit still and let me take a look! ’
‘ how did you get that black eye? ’
‘ you should see the other guy. ’
‘ did i say you could get out of bed? ’
‘ that’s going to leave a bruise. ’
‘ i’ll get some ice. ’
‘ that’s what you get for picking fights. ’
‘ are you trying to give me a heart attack? ’
‘ what’s wrong with you? ’
‘ you can barely stand. ’
‘ did you throw the first punch? ’
‘ that’s a nasty bump. ’
‘ get in the car. you’re going to the hospital. ’
‘ at least bandage it. ’
‘ no, you’ll get an infection. ’
‘ wet floor signs are there for a reason, you know. ’
‘ you’re lucky. that icicle could’ve killed you. ’
‘ where’s your gratitude? i rescued you! ’
‘ i’m calling the nurse. ’
‘ was that stupid dare worth it? ’
‘ what happened to you? ’
‘ sit down. i’ll make some hot chocolate and fix you right up. ’
‘ are those bandages? ’
‘ you need stitches. ’
‘ look out for that tree branch. ’
‘ i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me? ’
‘ lean on me. ’
‘ you got two choices: let me carry you, or die out here. take your pick. ’
‘ shit, you’re burning up. ’
‘ you’re not dying. it’s only a sprained ankle. ’
‘ lie down. ’
‘ i’m sorry. i know it hurts. here, hold my hand. ’
‘ you’re in no condition to be walking around. ’
‘ wake up! wake up! ’
‘ i don’t feel sorry for you. ’
‘ look at your face! ’
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holland roden as zoe woods in ‘channel zero’ (season 3)
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rebelpuff:
buttercup repeats her sister, voice high and nasally: “usually you get high or something!” she snorts. there’s nothing playful or teasing about the noise; it’s cruel and dark, aimed mostly at herself. if she COULD get fucking high, she wouldn’t be here, throwing shit around, breaking apart toys. if she could get high or drunk, her life might be just a little bit better. the chemical x won’t let her. she doubts blossom knows; her goody-two-shoes older sister would never even TOUCH the stuff until she’s legally of age, won’t even sniff champagne. buttercup rubs at her face. her eyes itch. there’s nothing left in this room to break, nothing easily replaceable. she’s still shaking.
“we can’t get high!” there’s a roach on the carpet that buttercup picks up, lights with a finger, and takes a drag. “we can’t get high and we can’t get drunk and we can’t get drugged, blossom! we can’t DO anything!” buttercup throws it on the ground. it smolders, burns the artificial fibers. she crushes it under her boot. “we can’t get high and we can’t get drugged and we can’t fucking trust anyone, ever.” she mutters the last part, but she knows blossom will hear it anyway. whatever. she almost punches a wall — the crumbling plaster would feel good between her knuckles, might even split some skin if she hits hard enough — but she doesn’t have any extra posters to hide it with, and she doesn’t want to be questioned by the professor and blossom.
if buttercup wasn’t her sister then blossom’s patience would be wearing thin. but it’s her sister, and she’s been dealing with buttercups fiery temper since they were children. being defensive will only make it worse, so she stays silent, letting buttercup work through whatever it is she needs to. the questions can come later. sometimes blossom is envious of buttercups rebellious streak. her willingness to bend the rules, to indulge in all the vices that blossom keeps at an arms length. not only because of the legality of it all, but because of the never ending stream of people who’d be willing to snap the second they caught her doing anything near wrong. still, its more of a cathartic experience she supposes, the hopes of a pavlovian response that could battle against their chemical x enforced bodies.
“we’re not like everyone else buttercup. never have been.” blossom sighs softly, dainty fingers gently massaging her temples, as if the motion could soothe her weary thoughts. they can’t hang out like everyone else, or go on dates, or vacations or indulge in silly little vices either. but it’s a price blossom is ready and (mostly) willing to pay to keep her loved ones safe. perfectly defined brow twitches, trying to patch together a possible scenario that would warrant blossoms rage. as far as she’s aware, neither she nor bubbles, nor even the professor have done anything to waver buttercups trust. the villains and citizens of townsville haven’t been any shadier than usual, so she struggles to piece it all together. “you can trust me.” the redhead muses softly, hoping to somewhat placate the other, though her hopes aren’t exactly high. “so. who did it? ‘cause i haven’t seen you this angry in a long time, and it doesn’t come from no where.”
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Attacked [sentence starters]
Monster-themed for the most part, but feel free to change ‘it’ pronouns to something else for a humanoid villain.
“Settle down, you’re safe now.”
“Who hurt you? WHAT hurt you?”
“I don’t know what it was that attacked me.”
“Did you see what they looked like?”
“Please, help me. I’m hurt.”
“All I remember are teeth and a whole lot of pain.”
“I was sure I was going to die.”
“I would be dead if you hadn’t found me.”
“What the hell was that thing?!”
“Oh god, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”
“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.”
“Do you have any idea what did this to you?”
“Was it an animal? A person?”
“It all happened so fast.”
“Stop screaming, I’m not the one who hurt you!”
“You’ll be alright, just calm down and tell me what happened.”
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“I’m not sure it was even human.”
“That looks like it hurt.”
“Help is coming. Just stay calm.”
“Don’t just stand there, help me!”
“You’re lucky I came by when I did, or else you’d be dead.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“Wh-where am I? What happened to me?”
“You never know what might be prowling around out here.”
“Why would anyone want to attack you?”
“Hey, can you hear me? Are you alright?”
“A-am I going to die?”
“We have to go before it comes back!”
“I don’t even know why it left me alive.”
“I-I need a doctor. Please.”
“Damn, it looks like you pissed off a grizzly bear.”
“It was you. You did this to me!”
“Do you think it’ll come back?”
“I-I didn’t get a good look at it.”
“It’s okay, I’ll help you. Just don’t try to move.”
“How do you know so much about monsters?”
“You need to learn how to protect yourself.”
“Honestly, it’s a miracle you weren’t torn to shreds.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”
“You’re not going to die. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Whatever happens to me, make sure the one who did this pays the price.”
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#X|she is the toughest fighter|X#X|she is the joy and the laughter|X#watch blossom literally tear down an entire city for her sisters lmao
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:// im gonna cry since you took my fruit roll ups away now.
sorry, can’t hear tears over the sound of you not getting cavities any more. but i have also made a fun platter of veggies with some low fat hummus. doesn’t that sound yummy and also nutritious?
#wantscoobsnax#X|v|power up|X#blossom voice: im not just a regular mom im a cool mom#eat ur veggies and u can have one (1) fruit roll up
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Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've rped in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!
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X| mrbcks |X liked for a starter!
blossom has no shame in her weekend activities. sure, some people might think it’s stereotypical for her to get up early to go shopping, but in her humble opinion that’s simply a byproduct of a patriarchal society that belittles typically feminine activities are frivolous. that’s how she justifies hitting the sales, hopped up on iced coffee, and a craving for a new summer handbag. but, her excitement for the day dwindled to nothing when the redhead heads down the aisle of clutches and spots a certain familiar someone. a deep breath in, very, very deep, and she attempts to breeze by her. she tries, but she really can’t. “that purses colouring washes you out. just thought you should know.”
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rebelpuff:
she gets angry for no reason ALL the time. it isn’t rare, and it isn’t something for anyone to really worry about. they all have moments where everything is just a little much. she’s angry more often than she’s happy, anyway; it shouldn’t be a huge deal. it doesn’t really matter what this is about. it will pass, just like everything else. it fucking has to. but right now, she’s angry. she’s pissed. she TRUSTED him — but she shouldn’t have. she can’t fucking trust anyone, can’t think of a single person outside of her sisters who have never let her down, who have never stab her in the back like this. her teeth grit, the rage rising again. there’s nothing here that hasn’t been broken, but she still grabs a deflated soccer ball and rips it apart. air hisses out of it, fake leather tearing apart in an almost deafening noise.
“nothing happened, blossom!” buttercup growls. she’s half tempted to ask blossom to spar with her, to help her get rid of this shaking, restless anger that won’t leave her alone. she knows better than to fight her sisters angry. ( butch’s berserk attacks linger in the back of her mind, a constant distant reminder that maybe it’s the amount of chemical x in the greens that make them so emotionally unstable, physically unmatched. she won’t risk it. ) “i’m just — angry!” her voice rises until she’s SHOUTING now. “it was a SHIT night, okay? those happen sometimes.”
she’d be surprised if buttercup wasn’t angry. she’s got enough to be angry about. but todays anger seems excessive, and particularly unprecedented. blossom is painfully aware that she doesn’t know everything about her sister, and she’s not sure that she really wants to. but they used to share everything when they were younger, and maybe if they were younger buttercup would simply tell her. but it’s not so simple now. a sigh spills from her lips and she skirts around the room, avoiding the odd obstacle that blocked her path every now and again. she gives up by the time she clatters into what she thinks is a broken shelf, taking to hovering over the ground by a couple or feet or so. “well it’s not like i know how you’re spending your nights these days.” she huffs, watching the football disintegrate in her sisters hands. “we’ve had shit nights buttercup, but usually you just...-- i dunno, get high or something!” even if their father wasn’t aware of buttercups little habit, the smell wafts down to blossoms room most nights. really, blossom has no room to criticise. her own method of dealing with anger is simply to push it down, bottle it away, until every now and again it explodes in a high tempered fury. but her fury doesn’t involve breaking the furniture. “i thought you we’re hanging out with some friends or something. even when your friends have a fight you never end up like this buttercup, so clearly, something else is going on that you want to keep a secret from me!”
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hello my notifs are all fucked up but ayo like for a starter!
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rebelpuff:
“i’m fine.”
she doesn’t mean to snap, but she doesn’t care much that she does. she’s busy. this place is the aftermath of a HURRICANE. the training room is better suited to deal with her, with the anger that makes her eyes glow and her body shake, but being in only made her angrier. it would have invited questions, too, and she hadn’t wanted to deal with those. she still doesn’t. so she came to her bedroom. the pillows are split open, stuffing spilling from the seams. parts of her wooden bed are splintered. she tried to throw soft things — furniture is expensive to replace, no matter how much she WANTED to hear things crash apart, wanted to feel the joy of destruction — but it didn’t work. anything can be a dangerous weapon if thrown with enough hatred. there’s a bottle smashed on the floor, glass peppered into the carpet, sticking out of the wall. shit bourbon stains both floor and plaster. her phone lays on the bed, having been crushed in her fist. the indents of her fingers are visible in the way the wires peak out. blossom probably heard it all. she should have gone out, but she didn’t want to fucking risk — whatever.
“i’m just — angry.” that’s not rare. sometimes she gets angry for no real reason. sometimes all she wants to do is hurt and bleed until she calms down.
“uh-huh, sure.” she pointedly kicks a shard of glass with her foot, attempting to forage a small path through the chaos. sometimes all the girls need a chance to blow of steam, and they’ve all got their ways of doing it. blossom likes to take flight, going as high as she can until the air thins, then screaming till her throat is raw. buttercup likes to break stuff. normally, blossom just waits it out, for the glass to stop shattering, and her sister to stop cursing but today seemed a bit much. more swearing than usual, more shattering and breaking and snapping than could be healthy. at first blossom looks for somewhere to sit, but she can’t seem to find any surface that isn’t upturned or broken. so she settles for pressing her back to the wall, “clearly, you’re angry. i’d be more worried if you did all this when you’re happy.” the redhead retorts, gesturing to the shattered phone. “but if you are angry, then something had to have happened to make you angry. and if something happened, maybe it’s something i can help with. so...-- spill.”
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