#punktrsh

[laidbear]

SC

＂ when did everyone develop such shitty taste in music ? ＂ tone playful, TEASING ; though slight annoyance couldn't be completley hidden as bear moved back into place by tristan's side ; having been asked to 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 out of the way a handful of times already in order for random worshippers to have their picture taken with the God of Maine, he was beginning to think that maybe a catch-up phone call would have been easier for everyone involved. ＂ CHRIST, are you not annoyed constantly ? i'm not moving for the next one, just so you know. get ready to say cheese right along with me because my feet are GLUED in place . . . ＂

@punktrsh

[rcjoiced]

@punktrsh//liked this//funny you should ask THE GOOD THING ABOUT THIS CAST IS I CAN STILL HOLD A KNIFE//SO IF YOU EVER TWIST MY ARM AGAIN, I'LL BE SURE TO PUT UP A FIGHT

after it was all said and done, after he had had time to sober up and look back at the texts, ashton feels almost nothing but shame. shame for showing that side of himself, the needy, insecure, obsessive side he can't seem to shake, and for starting a fight over something that was entirely him over reacting. shame for thing things that he had said in those heavy, suffocating moments of anger that feel like they swallow him whole. shame for the way he made a scene, an emotional mess of drugs and heartbreak that had let too many eyes see just who he was. it was a mistake he can't rectify in any way, and he can't help but feel the creeping guilt and frustration as he realizes the damage he could've done to all of their careers, to tristan's reputation. his own image be damned, how could he bring down the other guys? goddamn him and his inability to let things just be. the frustration with himself grows the more he remembers, the more he sees the videos of his outburst. god, did he really look that fucking stupid? he's not sure there's any recovering from this.

it takes days for ashton to even think about talking to tristan, longer for him to do so. it takes over a week before he's able to be out of his room while tristan is there getting whatever he needs for staying away from ashton. "hey." the word is weak and unsure, half expecting the younger male to ignore him, to give him the cold shoulder he was an expert at. "i--" 'i'm sorry'? 'i'm an asshole, you were right'? 'i miss you'? none of those felt like the right thing to say. "we shouldn't have said.. any of what was said." not an apology, not even close. but it's all he can get out. "that shouldn't have gone down like that." it's the closes thing he's going to get out to an apology, he thinks. how does he even begin to approach this without starting another fight?

[korinthiakos]

ONE-LINER STARTER CALL. ( ACCEPTING !! )

"——I think my car is totally busted; shame really, it was a classic."

@punktrsh

[hishedonism]

@punktrsh ➤ dialogue generator starters   ➤ accepting 

⠀ ⠀❛     i don't go away if you ignore me, y'know.  unfortunately.    ❜

[bcbylxn]

@punktrsh​

“no i have no idea who that is, why would i accept their messages? on instagram, of all things?” lou says with a roll of his eyes, looking at his phone, a tangled mess of limbs, still not ready for sleep but too tired from the day to get up and do anything else. another notification. then another. another. he doesn’t recognize the name, though the picture looks vaguely familiar. he finally clicks on it, wishing immediately that he hadn’t. you left your shoes at my apartment, are you ever going to come get them? i’ll make it worth your time 😉

why did he always lose his shoes? and why did he keep buying all these expensive shoes to just leave them places .toulouse scoffs, “it’s not what it looks like, really.” he says.  though that only makes it look worse. why couldn’t he have just ignored the notifications? why did he open them while they’re practically cheek to cheek. “shit i mean, i just.. let me explain.” 

[wvtchy]

@punktrsh​ sent in an ask for a tarot inspired starter

JUSTICE: a person’s guilty punishment 

warm tears carve a salty path down her pink cheeks. her vision is blurred by them, making her wobble as she walks down the sidewalk. only hours ago, her feet were soft and smooth, and now, they were blemished by the roughness of the concrete. sharp, cracked edges of sidewalk tore holes on her heels, leaving open wounds to cry blood. 

she stumbles, crying, unsure of where to go. irene has only been to earth once, and that time she had been prepared. this time, she was shot down, her wings ripped, leaving her disoriented and in a strange world. large metal things on wheels sped past her, some honked, which in turn made her jolt. 

irene feels naked without her usual attire. the others called her a whore, and ripped her silks off, shoving her into a ratty, white, oversized t-shirt before banishing her here. constantly, she tries to yank it down, cover herself more, but her efforts are futile. maybe i am a whore.

red-rimmed eyes lock on a shadow approaching from her direction. her brows scrunch and desperately, she looks around, looking for somewhere to hide. beside the sidewalk, two small houses, and sandwiched in the middle, a narrow alley full of trash bins and junk. she darts into the safety of the alley, forcing herself into the bags of rotting food and metal cans of waste. the lid of one trash can falls, clattering loudly to the pavement.

[wellfell]

 ❛ if you're gonna stand there and nag , better try to say it louder because i'm not listening . ❜

  —  @punktrsh   /   one-liner

[wndrbcy]

closed starter !  @punktrsh​

muse: jesse

plot: you alr know

                  ♡       cherry tristan is what he called him. maybe not out loud, but quietly during moments when he would remember. same flavor of the ring pops they’d exchanged at least fifteen years ago. they promised to never eat them, but young jess had trouble keeping anything from his sister, had woken up one day to see that she’d eaten the candy and left the remains for jesse to retrieve. now, jesse can smile softly at the anecdote, dressed to the nines as he stood beside tristan’s friends. admittedly, he never expected an invitation to a wedding- much less to the bachelor party the day before. it had taken hours worth of begging for his manager to agree to a wedding and no security, but jesse needed to be anyone but the golden boy for at least the weekend. and when he finally sees the man of the hour, his chest aches- maybe from nostalgia or .. something else, but the burnings of his childhood crush were there. they lingered inside somewhere, enough to send a chill up his spine. “ hey! ” should they hug? would it be weird? a week of stalking his social media helped jesse adjust to the maturing of handsome features, but seeing him in person was still so different. “ you’re finally taller than me, it took you long enough.”