prompt: my experience in the roleplaying community, @warplanet (just realised now i tagged the wrong person?? :') i am copying and pasting these and reformatting them haha)

📫 my favorite type of ships

enemies to lovers, star-crossed lovers, ships rooted specifically in tragedy??? honestly the more melodramatic the better. i like also taking what would usually be associated with tradition and moulding it to fit my own narrative while also staying true to those roots in someway if that makes any sense???? because overall i consider myself a pretty vintage guy?? i like aspects on how certain things used to be minus all the stuff that was obviously problematic.

📒 three blogs i couldn't live without

is this where i am supposed to recommend people???? ;-; oh god, i guess right now??? big's version of clark kent @sm4llville is really an essential part of my portrayal (sorry for the shoutout :3) while i take from a variety of comic book sources and mediums a lot of the inspo for my portrayal comes from smallville and it's been nice to reconnect with that fandom in someway. also i am gonna just say because we've been talking on discord and we've bonded over our love for modern westerns apparently and that's @ronins. really do appreciate you bones in the short time we have been talking, and i'm looking forward to writing ted kord and hal jordan stuff here on booster. annnd i don't have a official third yet. you are all such wonderful writers though, i am purely just recommending these blogs based on the ooc character interactions that have made my return here a blast.

🖼 my favorite types of characters

the male tapped his foot impatiently . his daughter had been taking quite some time , as they were to ready themselves for an event . 

                                                            ❝ we’re going to be late , ali . ❞   

             lips pursed into a pout as blues rolled in their sockets. 

                                                ❝ your mother used to make me wait , too .  ❞

The lump in your chest makes it hard to breath, it aches like a missing limb, but you can pretend. You're good at that, pretending.

If you believe in something long enough, it becomes real.

So you believe that it's easy to breath around the lump in your chest that aches with an intensity you hate.

~

You're good at pretending. You're good at pretending to be distant and emotionless even though it's the exact opposite. You’re good at faking it with a practised laugh and a fake smile and a flick of your hair.

At least you used to be. 

He did that to you. Or maybe you did that to you, but it's easier to blame the boy behind the lump in your chest and the tears in your eyes than yourself. Or maybe it was always like that.

Maybe you were always one blow away from your perfect façade caving in

~

You start to build another image, another façade, in the hopes that it'll be stronger than the one it was built over.

You paint your nails bright colours and throw out the clothes you don't like. You go to cafes and laugh with your best friend whose always there, always ready, with a wise quote and a shoulder to cry on. You drink fruity drinks and dance around your kitchen with your dog at your feet.

You break down in the bathroom, mascara tears dripping down your cheeks, and reapply make-up like it never happened. You cry on the kitchen floor, missing him so desperately, but you will never call him. 

You break and you fall down, you reassemble and rise up, mask crumbling but building up again. You learn how to fall in love with being alive after a lifetime of hating it.

In doing so, it becomes more than an image, more than a façade. It’s almost like you’re finding yourself.

It isn't a façade anymore. 

It’s who you are.

~

You still love him, you don't think that'll ever change, but it's gotten better. The sharp cutting pain that you felt has dulled to an ache that you can ignore. 

He still makes your heart speed up, still makes it hard for you to breath without it hurting, but you're doing okay.

The Mummy starters || @paramounticebound || accepting

The red alert had gone mercifully silent, but somehow the absence of the blaring siren seemed ominous. As if the whole ship was holding its breath, waiting. She'd expected sickbay to be flooded with wounded by now, after the hits the ship had taken. And yet nobody was coming. No word from M'Benga either, who'd left sickbay not an hour ago to attend the Bridge.

The question grated on her nerves, especially coming from a patient slash prisoner whose safety was her responsibility.

"I don't know", she admitted, pressing the intercom. "Nurse Chapel to the Bridge. Hello? Can you hear me?" She swallowed hard, then tried again. "Nurse Chapel to Engineering. Hemmer, are you there?"

A rolling growl sounded, followed by a clicking noise that sent a chill down her back. She quickly withdrew her hand from the intercom.

"Aw crap."

How about I stop telling the enemy where we are?

She turned her pale face towards the patient-prisoner. At the moment she and her hypospray was all that was keeping him safe, and he'd need to be able to dodge at the very least.

—Seguramente si, las fiestas de navidad son mis favoritas. ¿Tu que piensas hacer?.— Preguntó. 

“Aw Arndan! You’re too sweet! A kiss to you too!!”