out of context chat starters // accepting @horiznwlker sent: "Maybe cuz he's still a flying douche" ( from clarke lmao )

out of habit, lexa opens her mouth to counter, and upon processing clarke's exclamation, promptly shuts it. she's ususally so guarded with her emotions. stoic, steeled and solemn. but this catches her off guard and damn if it isn't funny.

"...i have no rebuttal. " lexa admits, the hint of a laugh at the end of her words. the dynamic between the commander and her flame keeper is COMPLICATED. there is goodness in titus. lexa remembers a more nurturing mentor in her youth. one who saw potential in the smallest of the novitiates. gave her the tools to stand against enemies twice her size and more. she will forever be grateful for the wisdom passed down to her. at the same time, titus' zealotry has been taxing and irritating to say the least.

" believe me, i sympathize. " a beat, a sigh. " i will deal with him, as i always have. " as i always will. that part is kept to herself. the longer she thinks about it, a bitterness starts to settle in. for a split second, she allows herself to envision what it might be like with her flame keeper out of the picture.

@horiznwlker said "What if they kissed?" and if i wolfwren you.

sabine does not know when it happened, when the blood and the rain had mingled, nor when the sight of platinum hair had become her salvation from the panic that had started to eat away at her ribs. her lightsaber is shut off, and the silence of the field becomes deafening. all she knows is that her body feels like lead as she staggers forward, clumsy hands fumbling to clip her saber to her belt so she may reach for her. mouth against mouth is a brutal thing, a collision of teeth and a muttered apology. sabine is a weeping woman as she gives this kiss –– long overdue, and overwhelming. the rain is heavy as it falls about them, the mud at their feet making the world feel unsteady –– none of it truly matters. not when shin tastes of the ozone of new stars and leaves a burning on her tongue that feels like it may very well consume her. her  shin,  her  wolf. when she pulls away, her hands tremble as she cradles the other's visage between her hands. there is a possibility that the gods of old may very well sing of this as they stare down upon the soaking, battle - ruined landscape of peridea. just a wolf and her moon; just two lost girls and their tether to the light.

⎯⎯⎯⎯ @horiznwlker / daisy liked for a starter from peter.

"i don't just do flips. it's a lot more than that, okay?"

𓏭 you are going to talk your wild nonsense again. ( from percy lmao ) ᝰ @horiznwlker ⨟ accepting .ᐟ  

paul cannot help the possibilities that flash behind his eyes. his mother is to blame, he expects –– she, one of the moirai; the decider of fate, clotho. viridescent eyes open only partially to acknowledge the man beside him. percy jackson is stronger than he will ever be able to understand but it can be frustrating, as well. he sees all the paths they will walk, all the paths they have walked; every step and choice and mistake that lead them here, to being friends. the sea beckons, a call from home –– leaving him feeling sick to see his father again, their little house on the coast –– and he knows percy feels similarly. 〝 I cannot tell if that is an assumption or you are asking me but either way, yes. ” it is not something he can control. quite frankly forgiveness should be extended for that which he offers with no explanation when he chokes on his prophesies. the world blurs with every blink of his eyes. 〝 I see the sea, percy. and I see gods drowning. ” gods  who  should  not  be  able  to  drown,  their  lungs  filled  with  brine  until  their  nerves  cease  writhing. he exhales a groan, hand raised to rub rough circles against his own sternum. his mother's decisions leave him wondering if she were to ever cease to exist, would he have to take her place? last he saw her, she was some grinning phantom, spinning the fate of some mortal whose life would be too short –– could he ever be that? or will his wild nonsense drive him to madness before then?

⭐ ehehe

mutual bingo!

᯽⊱ @horiznwlker ⊱ you scratch my back and i'll scratch yours. / one more from wynonna to lucy actually bc this is funny

ㅤㅤㅤHAZELS  LOWER  IN  CONSIDERATION,  pensive  confusion  through  a  mulled  silence.  Oh,  is  this  another  of  those  strange  surface  customs?  Well,  in  terms  of  physical  gratification,  it  does  seem  relatively  harmless  next  to  other  things  she's  been  asked  for  up  here.  Her  water,  a  finger,  her  internal  organs,  a  handful  of  children  to  rear  into  strong  farmhands.  Yeah,  a  little  scratch  isn't  so  bad  by  comparison,  however  odd  this  may  be.  Shoulders  shrug  lightly,  her  hand  reaching  towards  Wynonna's  back  as  her  attention  lies  elsewhere,  a  careful  rake  of  her  fingers  over  the  fabric  of  her  shirt.  But  this  is  not  the  reaction  she  expects,  startled  by  the  sudden  recoil  of  muscle  as  the  protector  turns  abruptly  towards  her,  a  look  of  shock  as  her  hand  is  batted  away.  ❝ I'm  sorry !  ❞  she  is  swift  to  apologize,  hands  raised  in  front  of  her  to  show  she  meant  no  harm,  more  confused  now  than  she  was  before.  ❝ Did  I  .  .  .  get  the  wrong  place? I can try again!  ❞

fitz && daisy

he hates this, he hates this, he hates this .    he likes his lab , he would like any lab more than he would like this right now . they are running    ( which he hates )    all because those idiots at the hub did not follow the correct schematics that he had left with him . and now his nice mobile flying lab was struggling to maintain the flying thing . which is why they are running through the corridors . daisy being a second set of hands while he tried to fix it .

he yelps when she suddenly throws her whole bodyweight against him . there are a few other bangs , a muffled 'ow' ( his ) and he leans forward under daisy's body weight . " just one more ----" his fingers stretch , the last switch is flipped and . . . and the plane finally levels out .

all fitz can do is slump with a strained. " oh thank god . "     ( he isn't the most situationally aware person , he doesn't realise that daisy threw herself over him to stop him getting hit by the falling boxes . boxes that instead hit her . )

finale - muse a wraps themselves around muse b to keep them from harm @horiznwlker

i'm too lazy to switch blogs but birdie? everything about your finnick?? i adore. like you portray him with SO much love and the life you've breathed into him alongside district 4 as a whole is so beautiful. i love him so so much

what is ONE THING you like about the way i play my character?

i'm literally going to break into tears... i'm answering this in the midst of my very hectic push of replies so im a little brain dead and could absolutely use this right now and i hope you know how much it means to me. i screenshot every nice thing anyone has to say ever about me and i think about it often. im so thankful that you love him and write with me and let me share all the craziness in my mind

ヽ ⠀⠀* ₍   𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬,   accepting.   ╎   ♔.     ❛ i’d do anything to be the person you love again. ❜ … from @horiznwlker, alicent to rhaenyra.

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 , in the gardens she spent so much time in during her youth . . . distantly , as fingers run through blades of grass still damp with the morning dew , she wonders if this place remembers her , too. if the trunk of this tree remembers what it felt like when two young girls sat beneath it , remembers the fleeting kisses stolen so bravely beneath its shade , if their love had once been so strong that it was felt even in the thick roots deep below the dirt she sits on. does  the  earth  mourn  it  in  the  same  way  her  heart  does  ?   will  there  be  a  day  where  it  doesn't  ? or will her chest always feel as though her heart has been singed into ash , the taste of betrayal still bitter on her tongue even after all these years ?

she doesn't know how long it's been since queen alicent settled into the grass beside her , either , but she does know that her presence makes this experience less peaceful than she'd been intending it to be. it's so rare to have time to herself these days , and every word out of her mouth has so far been ignored ⸻ as if she isn't truly there , as if she is merely being haunted by a ghost from her past ; a painful reminder of a life she can no longer return to. but  her  next  words  hit  her  hard  enough  to  knock  the  wind  out  of  her. head pivots to finally the other for the first time since she nestled into the dirt at her side , and the sunlight dances so beautifully against auburn tendrils that for a second , nyra is fifteen again and the only thing she knows for certain is that it's her &. alicent against the world. her expression is schooled back into something less of shock , though she realizes she'd forgotten to breathe temporarily , and the sharp breath she sucks in upon the burning in her lungs is one she cannot hide. the silence stretches on around her for too long as she struggles to form the right words. ❝ . . i'm afraid that bridge has already been crossed , ❞ though  the  words  feel  like  fire  in  her  throat.

[ fix ] for one muse to mend a dislocated joint.|| @horiznwlker from keyleth!

" oh, that is nasty!" amanita declares, trying very poorly to hide her fascination with the way keyleth's arm hangs at her side. amanita had been sure to stay on the edge of battle, working her magic from afar. keyleth, however, had gotten pulled into a more physical altercation. the other druid was tough, it was one of the first things amanita had learned about her. tough didn't matter when her arm was pulled out of her socket. it had been an astounding display, really, but astounding was simply not enough.

" let me help, " she hums, eyes bright & full of curiosity. she wants to know how keyleth will take this, how she handles pain. there was only so much the mortal body could handle, afterall. amanita closes the space between them, not giving the other druid the chance to protest. she places her hands on keyleth's arm, her grasp firm. she was going to set it back in place, they could do this without magic.

" on the count of three, okay? " though the inflection in her voice sounds like a question, the glint in her eyes suggests it is not, " count with me. one… two… " ( she doesn't make it to three. ) there is an unpleasant crack that is too familiar to amanita. she watches keyleth with intense interest, watching her reaction.

✧     ֺ    ˖     ⎎ @horiznwlker said blood, isobel @ aylin.

aylin's shoulders bow forward in a slump to make herself smaller, to make it all easier for her lover to reach her visage. it was scarred and lined in gold, and now covered in blood. the blood  of  isobel's  own  kin,  her  father  .    .    . such forgiveness in her beloved, though ketheric had deserved it. pain is such a dull thing to her after her many deaths, her many rebirths –– that her wounds hardly register in her mind. wings had evaporated into their streams of moonlight the moment she had reached her; now she stands in a room. isobel's beauty is always sung –– but it has been so long since she heard her mother's whispers. a smile curves scarred lips, and bloody hands raise to cup the other's visage as she continues in her endeavor to clean her skin, her armour. 〝 would it be easier if i were to undress? ” but she is keenly aware of just how saturated in blood she is. she should ask forgiveness, shouldn't she? for taking part in the murder of her lover's father. and yet, she cannot ruin this moment after so very long apart.

⎯⎯⎯⎯  @horiznwlker / imogen liked for a starter ; MODERN GIRL by bleachers

“i’m talkin’ little jeans, tiny hat,” peter gestures, holding out two hands to show imogen exactly how little he means this creature to have been, “i’ve never seen anything like it. maybe it’s an alien… i really hope it’s not an alien.”

𓏭 was ever a being so born to calamity? ( from imogen, cr ) ᝰ @horiznwlker ⨟ accepting .ᐟ  

the clouds above weep, and the lightning reminds him of the markings that decorate her skin. there is blood on his hands, and the deep red that stains the sky emulates the whole world collapsing in on itself. his jaw strains from how hard he clenches it, teeth grinding; his breathing hisses as droplets wash away the vitality on his skin. the  second  calamity   came  with a thunderous roar,  the earth  trembling  beneath  it.  he wonders  if  she  is  as  frightened  as  he  is,  away  from  their  friends.  he  is  simply  a  chronurgist,  and  she,  a  sorceress  drawn  to  the  red  moon  like  a  magnet. his eyes stare at hers, the collision of lilac and emerald almost poetic, if it weren't tense. barely hearing her over the chaos of the world cracking –– though, he knows, fragmentation is the destiny of all things. only a laugh escapes him; the sound so haunted and broken that he can't regard it as his own. a sigh punctuates it, condensation stains the air. their fates were predestined far before they were even born, did she not know? his voice softness,〝 the calamity never stopped, imogen. it was always there. in us. ” no,  there  was  never  a  being  so  born  to  it  but  him;  he  is  the  broken  crowned  heir  of  the  gods  who  fell.  not  evil,  but  cursed  with  despair.  he looks around him, at the bodies of those they had been forced to dispatch; they were all people who had hoped to drag them away, to make them serve –– but he has never bowed to anyone. the souls that haunt would never allow him to do that. and she is too strong to give up.〝 do you think we can finish this? ” but exandria falls apart beneath their feet, eaten by something so horrific they had been forgotten by history. 〝 or should we run and die without a trace? ” they could go  to  where  the  world  cannot  perceive  them,  where  they  can  watch  ruidus'  ruin  and  find  peace  in  their  failure.

that   is an excellent question :  what is he doing here ?         ❝ i’m just here to share the gifts of peace and   floral headgear ( ! ) ❞    then he’s flashing a wide smile and doe-like eyes in a sort of silent invitation : want one ?

@horiznwlker     ❤ ’d   ( for ty lee )

[ hold on ] sender pulls receiver into their arms || @horiznwlker from keyleth.

Percy was doing his best to practice forgiveness. forgiveness in others, forgiveness in self… but some days were harder than others. days like today, he couldn't shake the ghost of the hate he had tried so desperately to shed. he had defined his purpose by that hate for so long, long enough that it was woven in between the vertebrae of his too-stiff spine. it liked to sneak up on him, reaching into his brain & making things feel entirely too real. it was overwhelming.

he had been cleaning one of his guns. retort. it was a well-used weapon, one that he had made many modifications to. reclaiming it in his image didn't cancel out the darkness it inherited from its source. it made his mind wander to ripley, to what it had felt like to be dead. ( burning, bloody, raw. ) his last act could have been forgiving her & he wants to dream of a version of himself where that was his final say on the matter. he had reinvented himself separate from what she had stolen from him, what she had remolded him into. but there were pieces of her that would always be in his life, many of which were in this gun.

he doesn't realize his mind is racing until it's already bouncing back & forth between every terrible thing he's made in her image. every terrible thing she put in the world in his. this gun & the ones he created before changed the world for the worse. he could forgive the trembling, terrified boy who made them. he struggled to forgive the hands that still used this one.

his heart beats too quickly & he can't catch his breath. he leans on his desk for support, trying to steady his world as it spins around him. he tries to tread the water of his thoughts but he can't keep himself from drowning. he's not sure when he started crying & yet his face was wet. damn him.

he nearly doesn't hear the door open, half-convinced he imagined it as another way to torment himself. it would almost be funny for someone to see him this way, to see him as he was. scared & small & haunted by hate.

he finally forces a full breath through his lungs when he sees who it was. keyleth. his keyleth. his best friend, his sister. he can't quite find words, they're stuck in his throat & he thinks she knows that. perhaps this is why she draws him close into a hug, smoothing his messy hair against his head. percy melts, honestly. he's steadied by her scent. her presence tethers him to this world, to his body & his new reality. they were heroes now, despite it all. so he wraps his arms around her in a too-tight hug, holding on like his life depends on it.

" you couldn't have come at a better time, " he half-jokes, his voice smaller than he intended. he might have been ashamed if it were anyone else, but he knows better with her. he melts against her, laying his head on her shoulder, " sincerely. "

@horiznwlker : ❛ Can there not be peace and love in this galaxy and the next ? ❜ keyleth to vex ,,, and she's def drunk

"If there were nothing but peace and love in the world, darling, then we would be out of a job." Amusement colours Vex'ahlia's words, the alchohol she'd ingested not quite enough to dull her silver tongue. Quite by comparison, it seemed that Keyleth was barely able to hold her own head up at this point, leaning heavily into her shoulder.

For now, she makes no effort to remove her — even if the antlers were starting to leave a bruise.

"I can't imagine there would be much need for people with our... unique talents in that world."

frantic fanfic sentence starters