Latest Posts by paloma-negra - Page 4
MISCELLANEOUS / ANGST STARTER SENTENCES.
“Are you asleep?”
“Are you done?”
“Can I stay here?”
“Do you think you’re the only one that is having a hard time?”
“Do you think you’re the only one with family issues?”
“Don’t assume I know how you feel.”
“I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…that wasn’t true.”
“I am done with you.”
“I am still standing here.”
“I can’t do this anymore—at least not now.”
“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid I was going to lose you.”
“I don’t know why you’re mad at me!”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I feel like an idiot—I stuck up for you against everyone!”
“I hated you for what you did to me—I hated you!”
“I have loved you for half my life, but I’m done running after you.”
“I have stood by you through everything!”
“I just thought you should know.”
“I know you’re good at what you do.”
“I loved her as more than a friend, and I never had the chance to tell her.”
“I should have said something that night, but I didn’t.”
“I wasted so much time on you.”
“It’s hard to remember a time when I was actually in love with you.”
“I’m done trying.”
“I’m going to make it right.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“I’m sorry!”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Screw you.”
“Tell me that you’re hurt.”
“Right, because this is my fault.”
“This isn’t you.”
“We do not belong together.”
“We’re done here.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“You are still blaming everybody but yourself.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“You could tell me not to go.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“You don’t know anything about me, really, and I don’t know anything about you.”
“You had four months to decide!”
“You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“You know exactly how I feel.”
“You were the hardest one to leave behind.”
“You’re right, this isn’t working.”
“You’re the one who messed up in the first place.”
#prompts! #u pick ur muse i pick mine <3
CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES. for when the person you’re trying to care for insists they don’t need your help.
“at least let me clean the wound!” “you’ll be even worse off if you don’t let me bandage this.” “i really think you need to see a doctor.” “i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.” “your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!” “..i’m here if you need anything, okay?” “stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own!” “listen, i know you don’t want to, but.. maybe you should rest for a while. you’re not going to get anywhere like this.” “i’ll make you a deal: i’ll just get you some bandages, and nothing else, and you stop making a fuss over it.” “how long has it last been since you slept?” “have you even been taking your medicine?” “i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you.” “let me take care of you, for once.” “you’re gonna hurt yourself even more if you do stupid things like that!” “i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.” “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” “stop trying to act like you’re not bleeding out in front of me!! this is serious!” “listen, asshole. i’m gonna carry you home whether you like it or not. you’re not in any condition to get there yourself.” “oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?!”
"i know i'm not the only one
who regrets the things they've done
sometimes i just feel it's only me
who never became who they thought they'd be."
"Are you still writing?"
"Writing? That belongs to another life."
Testament Of Youth
Eerie Atmospheric Settings: Plot Starters
Instead of a specific plot to work around, here’s a list of settings that all feature a melancholy, moody, or creepy atmosphere. Simply send me a symbol for a setting you want to RP in, and I’ll either make a starter or approach you to plot!
🌕A full moon night with wind whistling through the trees
🌊The seashore late at night, with lightning over the water in the distance
🏤Stepping into a house that gives off all the wrong vibes
🍁A cold day in late autumn, which is silent and deeply lonely
🎹Nighttime in an ancient house/manor, with the tinkling of piano keys from the next room
💧 Rain in the early morning, so dark that there’s hardly a sunrise
⛪A church right after a funeral, a small handful of people dressed in black hanging their heads in silence
🌳A maze-like forest at dusk, with a sense of anxiety as the sun disappears
⛵On the beach before dawn as remnants of a ship wreck wash onto shore
🍂A chilly, overcast autumn afternoon
🌃Midnight in a busy city, sirens blaring a few blocks away
🎃After dark on Halloween night after trick-or-treating ends
🚘Sitting with a popped tired on the side of a long stretch of road, waiting
⚡Distant thunder from a massive storm headed straight this way
🥀An overgrown garden of nothing but poisonous (or dead, dry) plants
🌾An eerie plot of farmland with seemingly no one around for miles
🐊Murky swampland with posted warnings to keep people away
🔥 A roaring bonfire in the distance on a pitch black night, with dark silhouettes crowded or dancing around it
🚧Standing near old, abandoned train tracks when the bell starts to ring
🐟Taking a swim on an uninhabited plot of beach, noticing ripples in the water
🌿An old-fashioned plantation with secretive locals and a bitter history
💀A cemetery full of dead, dry flowers as if all of the plots have been forgotten, some of the stones cracked or sinking into the dirt
🚇A dingy old subway station, walls chipped to pieces, while waiting for a ride home
🌈The sad silence after a violent storm, debris and wreckage everywhere
👗An attic full of musty clothes and antiques belonging to someone long-dead
❄ A snowstorm locking everyone in their homes, with electricity flickering
🍄An enchanting plot of forest or stream, tiny whispers cutting the silence
🌑Inside of a re-occurring nightmare had time and time again
☔Taking a long walk with an umbrella, struggling with a low, low mood
☕At a quiet cafe, but unfamiliar folk are whispering and staring
🌵A winding road through the desert with only one dingy hotel, its ‘vacancy’ light flickering red
💤Dreaming of scraping nails gainst the window glass, and waking to still hear it
🐕A quiet night, the only sound being the call of coyotes/wolves in the woods
vihilum:
He always thought he might go out in a blaze of glory – as gunfire rained over them, the notion didn’t seem as romantic. Heat emanated above their crowns, ears ringing. Ace relied heavily on his sense of hearing, but the world had dulled. He hissed a breath as he kicked the glass leading into the apartment, one he prayed was empty, lest they disturb any others tonight, two solid swings and it shattered, and the duo tumbled in. He snagged the jacket as he followed her in, peeling it from where it’d been embedded into the sill, eyes adjusting to the dark.
He stepped through plastic lined over carpet to protect it from the paint, and he walked towards the sink located in the kitchen. He turned the faucet and water dripped into his cupped palms, and he lifted a handful to his face, red staining his fingertips. He wasn’t relaxed, he wasn’t at ease – he was taking a breath. He rinsed the blood that clung to his features, to his hair, until his unruly curls were dripping down his back, a sense of calm regained.
“We won’t.” He knew they couldn’t stay there. Disappearing into the apartment had bought them a few minutes, but his mind was still reeling in search of alternative exits. With a moment taken, came a moment for pain to settle in. His breathing slowed and he gripped the sink’s edge, his other palm gliding along his side until he found the source – he must have been clipped on their way in. He almost had missed it, would have walked out without checking if he hadn’t taken a moment to catch his breath. He cursed himself for taking a beat now.
Digits prodded the wound, and his eyes fluttered shut to focus, lip twitching with each jab at his injury, until he roamed and found it, breathing a sigh of relief. There was an exit wound – the bullet wasn’t still inside. Stealing a long strip of painter’s tape from atop one of the cans, Ace grabbed a baby blue smeared rag and secured it to his wound, wrapping the tape around his waist, and tearing it, before tossing it back onto the ground.
His arms slipped through the jacket sleeves, and he exhaled, a plan in motion, “They’ll be waiting outside. They know we’re still in here,” he was as ready as he ever would be – it was now or never, “we go through the trash chutes, jack a car, and get out through the parking lot. Could be our best bet of getting out of here,” his eyes were red-rimmed, he was tired too, and he wanted her to see him strong. He knew the goons were following, foresaw there might be something they’d left behind, but all he could focus on was right now, and getting them out of there right now.
“Do you know of a safe place we could go?”
Watching Ace tend to his wounds with such precision, carefully making out the outline of his arms as he moved over the kitchen sink through the dark living room with only the light from the full moon seeping through the broken window, made Kahlo pause and check her own self the same way he had. Her hands moved up and down her torso looking for a bullet wound to match his. Her search came up empty and relief washed over her until she remembered the blow to her cheek. Her fingertips found the blood she’d been looking for when she caressed her cheekbone; she was grateful this was the extent of her physical injuries (so far). With noise still coming from the kitchen where Ace stood, the rest of the world was beginning to melt into a haze. In a mere hour and a half, she’d lost the life she knew. Everything now was darker, heavier. It was like suddenly experiencing everything through a broken lens that distorted all remaining things that are truly good. “We won’t.” His voice was toneless but firm and the realization of what she’d just done upstairs was really beginning to creep up. Kahlo could feel her heart rate increasing and her face growing hotter. She was so quick to kill without any hesitation – this blatantly selfish commitment to survival was foreign to her.
Nervous hands rubbed against one other until they settled near her belly button. No, there was no time to freak out. Tranquila. Tranquila. Tranquila. The sound of water splashing over the counter grounded her back in the room and her eyes, now more adjusted to the darkness than before, fell on Ace. He had moved to salvage whatever supplies he could find but she’d missed it. She only now found him again, tending to the graze under his arm. Her steps toward him were sheepish and slow but she finally made it to him. Despite the darkness, Kahlo was still able to get an eyeful of a messy patch up. Her fingertips lightly grazed over the wound before he could cover it with the masking tape. It wasn’t hard to pick up on his makeshift nursing skills and how he was trying to clean himself up with the limited resources he had, but she also knew that if not properly cared for, the wound would get infected and would continue to bleed. Her fingers were gentle when she took over for his larger ones. She wiped away any excess water around the wound before applying the tape over the rag then stepped back as he swung his jacket back over his shoulders.
She knew they’d have to leave the apartment; she’d even said it out loud, but now that the plan was in motion, she had to fight her nerves back again. Now is not the time. “Do you know of a safe place we could go?” Again he was firm, but she was grateful for it. Her mind raced as she quickly tried to connect any dots that would exclusively link her with the missing phone and the Catscratch. Whoever was after them, knew about the club but didn’t know which one of the girls in the picture was the owner of the phone left behind. Her head snapped up some when she made the decision to take them back to her apartment. “I do. Let’s go.” She took the lead this time, trying to show him that she wouldn’t be dead weight the entire time.
Kahlo was slow to open the front door at first. The light from the outside hallway invaded the darkness of the apartment hallway. She listened closely for any noise that revealed the location of the men upstairs but the coast was clear – they hadn’t made it down yet. She swung the door the rest of the way open and stepped out into the light first before they bolted for the stair well at the end of the hallway. She was drowning in adrenaline. All she could feel was the burning of her thighs as she pushed forward for the stairs and Ace on her tail. Before the pair could reach the end of the hallway, she noticed that he’d fallen behind a few paces. He was bleeding through his shirt. Kahlo’s eyes widened at the revelation, but she wasted no time running back, tucking herself under his left side and wrapping an arm around his waist to help him keep moving. The stairs were tricky with her small frame supporting most of his but they made it to the basement level at the same time the 6th floor door was kicked open. They’d been found. “Let’s go! Do not stop moving.” IF this man was going die, she would not let him die there.
Kahlo ran until they reached the end of the garage and hid behind a 2002 black honda civic. They both gasped for air after their run as she set him down against the back-left tire. She strategically chose the oldest looking car she could find; she knew she’d have to break the window if they wanted in, and the older the car, the less likely it’d have an alarm. Wishful thinking. Without skipping a beat, Kahlo’s hands reached into the side of his jacket and pulled out the blade she saw him carrying earlier. With it’s handle, she sent a hundreds of tiny shards of broken glass to the ground. She allowed herself another brief moment of relief when she didn’t hear the sound of an alarm, but it was only a moment as she was sure the men heard the window breaking from where they were.
She turned her attention back to Ace as she heaved him back up and helped him jump over the driver’s seat and middle console until he was settled in the passenger seat. Kahlo followed his instructions to a T but sliced her finger when she pulled a wire too hard. When she touched wire a to wire b, the engine roared to life under their feet and she floored it. Gunshots were fired as they whizzed past their attackers and after as they rode away once they hit the street. She was able to make out at least eight of them before turning the corner out of view. They drove in silence and in focus. All Kahlo could think about was making it to Harlem, somehow reaching the girls at the Catscratch to warm them without a phone or without being caught if actually going to the club was the only option, and keeping Ace awake – keeping him alive.
She made it a point to ditch the car some ways away from her apartment as to not reveal their location right away if they men were able to get a good look at the car when she nearly ran them over during their big escape. With the same manner of urgency, Kahlo rushed around the car to the passenger seat to help Ace back out. She took his arm and swung it over her shoulders to help support him while they walked the remaining seven blocks and up 4 flights of stairs to her home.
Kahlo’s studio loft was anything but organized. It wasn’t dirty, per say, but it was pretty messy. There were ashtrays filled to the brim with blunt roaches and cigarette butts on almost every surface, stray lighters and matches everywhere, fishnets and lace underthings drying on a line above the rotten excuse for a television, high platform heels scattered all across the floor and Capullo (the cat) had made a mess of a toilet paper roll, leaving it’s remains near the bathroom door. They came in a huff. She lead him to the couch and eased him down before rushing to liquor cabinet for the strongest alcohol she could use to clean the wound, and to calm her nerves. She returned to Ace, bottle tucked under her arm and a handful of clean paper towels from the kitchen in her trembling hands. They were safe. For the time being.
diego & lila in 2.04 the majestic 12
LAURA HARRIER AS CAITLIN WALKER Balance, Not Symmetry (2019) dir. Jamie Adams
Do you suppose it’s possible for us to already belong to someone before we’ve met them?
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (2018) dir. Mike Newell, DoP Zac Nicholson
Mimi: Babe, do the thing!
Roger: [genuinely smiles]
Mimi [breathless]: Oh my God.
