starters from shiverhq

remember to check the dating on the starters!( the blog runs on a queue. )

[bledpower]

TIME: March 16th, 7:34 PM LOCATION: Buckshot Bar & Grill STATUS: Open, @shiverstarters​

Every time the temperature got warmer and Maite went from being on four legs to being on two, there was this underlying frustration that that was her reality; the moment Maite began sporting her human from, each passing second, she missed her dark furred being. That meant that, for a little while, her patience would be less prone to actually survive through a day without being recharged by means of a punch to anyone’s face. It didn’t help that she had a shift at Buckshot so close to being back to being the worst version of herself.

More often than not, Maite can’t help but wonder why on earth she got herself a job as a server. Basic (and pleasant) human interaction was sort of the bare minimum, along with an uncanny ability to be treated as less than. So, after a long day, the moment someone tried to flirt with her as she cleaned a table was enough to set her off (not that much was needed).

“If you don’t shut up and walk away,” her voice was more like a growl, loud enough for the person and those around her to hear, “I will bite your ear off and feed it to you.” Maite looked at the person, her voice was venomous. 

“Got it?”

[grey-everette]

OPEN STARTER

DATE: Winter, Mid-January TIME: mid-afternoon LOCATION: Blackrock Forest STATUS: OPEN Outside, the winter calls to them night after night. The body they’re in is wrong, too naked and blunt and clumsy. It’s time for them to return to it. They want to go home. It takes their body a horribly long time to fix itself. They have a long slash across their ribs that is the ugly pink of a brand new scar and at night Grey presses their hand to it and quietly thanks it for not being a wound. It burns when the cold hits it. Everything burns at first. Their body is upset with them for letting it get hurt, and for forcing it to stay in this clumsy two-legged form for far longer than it should have had to. The shift is more painful than usual but even then it feels right, like the burn of a muscle begging to be stretched. One moment they are one two-legs and the next they are not. And then they are running. The world is rushing forward to meet them, bright and complex and solid beneath their feet. They raise their nose to the air and breathe. They’ve been separated from their pack for so long. They want to be with their family again. They want to see Will and everyone else. But before they catch the scent of another wolf, they smell blood. Being on four legs comes with many benefits but wise decision making has never been one of them. They follow the trail. Their first thought isn’t of the many bad things the blood could belong to, but of their pack, hurt. 

[tenderhowls]

DATE: Winter, Early December (Pre-change.) LOCATION: The Edge of Blackrock Forest STATUS: OPEN

There’s a wolf on the hillside. Not one of theirs, he knows this, but a wolf all the same. He wonders who it is, who it was, if it was anyone at all, or if he’s just some idiot standing at the edge of the woods staring up at an animal. Sometimes a wolf is just a wolf. His right hand inches across his stomach unbidden to rest at his left side, right where a wolf sank its jaws into him so long ago. It itches, still, sometimes, when it gets cold. Not enough to be some sort of an omen, but still. It’s not itching now, but he scratches it anyway, idly and unconsciously. When will it happen? He asks himself, the thoughts barely forming in his brain, more feeling than conscious words. Will I know beforehand? Leon tries to think back to the year before, to the moment when he shed his human skin in favor of the wolf pelt, but the memory is fuzzy and vague and gray around the edges. He thinks Will would know how to tell when it’s coming on, but she’s not around for him to ask. His brain tries to put feelings to it, tries to rationalize it. Maybe it’ll be like a migraine coming on. Maybe I’ll see auras. Maybe I’ll taste copper in my mouth. He reaches into his jacket for a cigarette, thumbing one out of the battered pack and lighting it up without ever breaking eye contact with the wolf. After a deep inhale, he draws the cigarette from his mouth and exhales smoke. If the wolf were closer, he’d offer it a drag. The thought makes him smile, despite himself, and Leon shuffles his feet a bit, trying to create enough motion to warm his bones. Maybe if I keep moving long enough, I’ll never get cold again. What a childish, hopeful thought. The crunch of boots falls flat on his ears; too enraptured by this wolf that may or may not be a person, Leon doesn’t notice until the person behind him is close enough for him to feel their body heat. Startled, he jumps a bit, breaking eye contact with the wolf to glance behind him. “Son of a bitch tit shit fu—” he hisses, arms flailing slightly, nearly dropping his cigarette. He jams the thing back between his teeth grumpily. “Sorry, you– you scared me,” he explains. “I was just—” He looks back to the hill. The wolf is, of course, gone. He has a built in excuse with the cigarette. He knows this. Still, his brain seizes the first thing he can think of. “…Pissing.” What the fuck is wrong with you?

[charlierussoreeves]

when: sunrise, december where: the woods behind charlie’s house open to: anyone

Charlie has been visiting Marcus’ grave more often than usual. It’s the cold that’s getting to her, that and the stress. She has too much guilt to bear, about Avery and Addison and Jacob, and it’s going to be winter soon. She’s afraid of changing. She’s afraid of not changing back. Marcus, as always, helps her feel better. She bundles up in nearly every sweater she owns, drags a chair from her back porch and into the woods, and sits beneath the tree where his bones lie.

Some days she talks, and imagines what he might say. He always knew what to say. Most days she just sits there, back against the tree, watches the wind rustle through the branches, and wishes he were here with her.

She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, slumped over in the chair, until the sound of a branch breaking beneath someone’s shoe jolts her awake. Her neck and shoulder blades ache. She reaches her left arm up to rub the kink out of her neck. There’s still sleep in her eyes, and her bones are stiff. It’s a chill morning in Blackrock.

“Who’s there?”

[aldcr]

when: early December 2019 where: The Last Drop with: open / @shiverstarters​

The wind is brutal, he can hear it still over the dull roar of the drunken conversation that surrounds him. Halfheartedly he entertains a customer a little too eager, but his mind drifts to the cold outside. It is hopefully not too apparent that he does not give a single shit what the woman before him is saying. Instead, He thinks about how this may be one of his last nights he can work this winter. The threat of the change is too close, his skin feels too tight — even here, warmed by bodies. That used to scare him. How animal he could feel between these people too human. But it feels like a far away thought now.

The woman slaps a five dollar bill down on the table and he tries not to react outright. The small snort of a laugh still manages to weasel its way from his mouth. He certainly hadn’t tried hard enough for that kind of tip. She’s gone already though, and he’s pretty sure on the napkin next to him is a phone number. Still he pockets the money, and lets the napkin ‘accidentally’ slip to the floor. 

“How can I — oh” Elyas’s face breaks out into a grin. “You looking for trouble?”

[ofcorpses]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 .   DECEMBER 2019 (post-charlie attack) 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 .  GROCERY STORE 𝐰𝐡𝐨 .  OPEN / @shiverstarters

        he’s got half a mind to waste an afternoon sawing through the cast on his arm , just enough to pry it off and free himself of the cumbersome weight. the all but guaranteed likelihood of the bone setting wrong be damned. the skin isn’t flayed to the bone in places like it had been in afghanistan , isn’t as useless as it was , but the cast itself makes everything worse. makes him almost wish he was back overseas rather than some snowladen hell state. there’s a bounty on the wolf’s head , one andrew intends to collect for himself       money also be damned        before anyone else gets the chance. whether it’s natural born or a shapeshifting beast doesn’t matter to him. it attacked him with no provocation ; it’ll do the same to anyone else. more importantly , it could have killed tango. 

still , he mentally runs through the list of people who’ve gone off the radar recently. two he’s familiar with : will and charlie. if push comes to shove … putting a bullet in both of them will leave them all better off. he hopes , anyways. the sound of someone speaking pulls him from his thoughts , blue eyes blinking as he glances over.     “ sorry       ‘scuse me. didn’t mean to be in the way.  ”

[willowrory]

when: December 2019 where: The Last Drop who: open to all @shiverstarters​

Generally, Rory wasn’t one to try and start up conversations with the people sitting around them at the bar. But then again, they also weren’t one to find themselves out drinking in The Last Drop on an open mic night. Well, at least not anymore anyway. With an influx of Christmas parties, this past week at work had been hell and with Friday off (a Christmas miracle, if ever they saw one) and no plans (other than perhaps a Netflix binge with two men by the name of Ben and Jerry), it felt about time to brave the bar once more. Possibly even find a warm body for the night too – if there was anyone around as desperate as they were. As it stood, things were getting busier and that was never a bad sign.

Taking a (hefty) sip of bourbon for Dutch courage, they decided to do something and turned their attention to the figure on their right. A lone singer wailed on the stage at that point and Rory visibly winced as the woman tried (very unsuccessfully) to hit a high note. It was with that that they let out a light chuckle.

“Enjoying the show tonight then?” They forced a smile, as naturally as they could (in spite of the bubble of nerves in their stomach), and leant across the bar top. “Or do you want another drink to tide you over until the next singer comes on? God knows that I need something strong to get through more of this.”

[sadieann]

open: @shiverstarters​

Sadie never used to feel so out of sorts in her hometown. She knew these streets better than anyone, could name just about everyone who had ever lived inside the town’s boundaries during her lifetime, but ever since she saw Hickory transform, she couldn’t help but be on edge just walking through the town, especially as the weather turned colder. So lost in her thoughts of trying to reconcile the Blackrock she grew up in with the one where children went missing and acquaintances turned into wolves, she didn’t notice the figure until she almost bumped into them. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, taking a hasty step out of the way to narrowly avoiding running into them. “Are you okay?”

[dom-vieira]

DATE: December 8th, 2019 TIME: Just after sunset LOCATION: Outside the Ugly Mug STATUS: Open @shiverstarters​

Hana was alternating between shivering and sweating because of her fever, the bite on her arm throbbing beneath the bandages Jinx had wrapped tightly around it. Her savior had so graciously given her a coat and a change of clothes, but she couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach. Of course she would get the flu on top of getting her ass kicked and being robbed blind. “Does this place have like a drug store or something? I need to find some Dayquil. Or Nyquil. Maybe both.”

[shiverstarters]

anseleyman​:

status: open to everyone location: twilight cinema, early november All of his bones ache. That he knows for sure, even if Ansel is one for dramatics. He lays out dramatically on the bench, the smell of popcorn and dust saturating the air. Not one smell was more familiar, and it was just faint enough to not make him nauseous. He would nap here if he could, but some movie theater attendant was not happy with him last time. Plus Twilight Cinema was his favorite spot to get away, so he couldn’t risk the threat of getting an unneeded banned for life punishment. He feared that may be coming true as he felt a presence loom over him.  “I know Oscar, I know.”  Ansel, as graceful as ever, rubs his eyes as he sits up. “I’m not sleepin’, just waitin’ for the theater to- Oh.” He stops in his tracks. It wasn’t the old usher standing in front of him. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.”

[enebrolobo]

where: ~around town~ when: before the party @ the Whitegrass barn/before he learns his (ex) wife will be there/before he is is overcome with anxiety with: OPEN

“Don’t I know you from somewhere…?”

[apocalyptixs]

When: Early Winter (Late December? After the wolves have become wolfie?) Where: Pioneer Square Who: @shiverstarters​ | Open to Humans (?)

Winter was known to keep people locked up behind closed doors, awaiting the warmer weather and blooming flowers of spring. Avery, for one, had always been fond of winter. The way the snow fluttered gently to the ground and remained there like a soft, fluffy blanket. How prints of the past lingered, tracing memories until the warmth stole them away with the melt. 

But Blackrock seemed to freeze in time as the cold air blew in. There were only a handful of footprints in the snow left behind on the sidewalks. The square was deserted of anyone - familiar or strange. It was as if everyone had disappeared in the span of a couple weeks, even the joy of winter holidays barely evident across town. 

She pulled her coat a little tighter around herself to shield from the blustery breeze, smiling a bit as someone approached. “Is it always this deserted in winter? Everyone fly south for warmer weather?” She pauses, sighing as her breath condenses before her. “I mean, I don’t love the cold - but it sure is beautiful…”

[niaparks]

DATE: dec 8th, 2019 TIME: 9:24 pm LOCATION: buckshot bar & grill STATUS: open

“We’re closed,” Nia deadpans, not caring enough to check and see who exactly she’d been speaking to, earning herself a dirty look from her manager, as they’d been nowhere closed. Nia merely shrugged in response. It had been a busy night, which only meant good things if you were a server or hostess, neither of which Nia possessed the charisma for. The one night she filled in resulted in a near altercation with a customer, but what was she supposed to do? Magically make the onions they’d been out of manifest out of her ass? The influx of customers had begun to slow, and Nia had taken to lazily wiping and rewiping down tables to keep busy. “Well, make yourself at home, I suppose,” Nia says with a sigh, eyes flickering up momentarily to finally discover who’d entered the bar. She blinks for a few moments, before returning to her absentminded table wiping. She’d actually welcomed the company of someone else in that moment— not that she’d ever admit to it. “You’re not thinking about ordering a five-course meal or anything, are you?”

[clivepreaker]

DATE: dec 7th, 2019 TIME: 08:24 pm LOCATION: whitegrass family barn STATUS: open @shiverstarters​

It was hard to avoid the silence that seemed to bestow Blackrock as the winter chill would begin to set into the air, offering wind that would start to feel like needles at exposed skin. A town in mourning, all flocking to the decorated barn that seemed to mock everything that was. The lights too dazzling, decorations too extravagant, as if just hours before they hadn’t been lighting candles in that eerie quietness that lingered like death.

The warm light in the bar couldn’t shake the cold of the night air that Nolan felt mocked him, ached his insides. The promise of what was close. His teeth gritted, his hand clenched around a beer as he stands out in the open air, back against the barn as he looks to the stars. Shadows cross from the door and cascade across where he stands notifying him of the presence joining him in the night air.  “This is a fucking joke.”

[janevogeti-deactivated20240929]

where: whitegrass’ barn party, the bar when: dec 7, 6:00 pm open to: all

Sara would’ve happily put her name down for every volunteer item on the list. She almost did do that, in fact, but a gentle reminder that she is allowed to enjoy herself, too, leads her to picking just one: bar duties, from five to seven. After that, she vows to have a good time. Her skills as a bartender don’t go beyond more than a handful of drinks, but after the first hour is up, all she’s done is open bottle after bottle of wine. Simple enough.

“Mrs. Whitegrass has really outdone herself this year,” Sara comments idly. When the line for alcohol finally lulls, she takes a good look around the barn, unsure of where her eyes should land. Even on its own, the barn is rather grand. For the party, it’s been transformed into something else entirely. 

“I almost forgot we’re still in Blackrock,” she laughs, but it’s a welcome feeling. Much like Hutch’s Thanksgiving dinner, she thinks it’s something they all need. 

[raine-jones]

I’ll Make a Deal With You || OPEN

Location: Whitegrass property Time: 6 dec @shiverstarters​

Raine had walked away from the vigil like a rat running from a cat. They were standing near the tree line, their hands shaking as they tried to light what little was left from the joint they had started that morning. They could feel grief settling in their chest. Jacob was dead, and their heart was beating at a surging rate that it almost scared them. They sighed in asparation when the joint started burning, and took a very long inhale before letting themselves lay down in the grass. Their eyes closed they could hear someone approaching behind them. The weed was strong, it would take about a few minutes for it to raise a wall of fog in their brain, but they were already celebrating the possibility. 

The person got nearer, and Raine opened their eyes again. They patted the pocket of their jeans. “If it’s a joint you want, they’re five bucks a piece,” they said.

[willofoak]

TIMESTAMP: Saturday, December 7th, pre-party DIRECTED TO: Anyone!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝. For any party, or funeral, or event, she is the first to put her name down for the potluck. She does not plan, and she does not decorate. She does not volunteer to set up decorations, and she most certainly does not stay after to clean up. Frankly, she didn’t want to volunteer at all, but she ultimately decided that to not do so would look more suspicious than anything. Everyone was going to be here. She made her pack promise to wear triple layers and heartily encouraged them to go back home after the temperature dropped, but she couldn’t shake the fear in her gut that one of them would change tonight. 

Will parked her truck outside of the barn, noting and deciding to ignore the eyes the thundering of her engine received. Her truck was a piece of crap but she loved it and they would pry the keys out of her cold, dead hands. She hopped out, slid her keys into her pocket, and popped open the back. She stared at her equipment; food pans, chafing dishes, heat lamps, etc. She bit her lip, and glanced around. “Hey!” She called, waving her arm, a warm smile on her lips. “Can I borrow you? To help carry some of these stuff in?”