#// munday games!

[ask-diane]

♡ Munday Game ♡

💞 - Send in this emoji with one of yours and one of my characters, and Ill see what relationship the two might either have or could be formed.

💫 - Send in this emoji for a random fact about the mod.

💌 - Send in this emoji + one of my characters for a random fact about them.

🎶 - Send in this emoji + a song of your choice, and I'll see if it fits any of my characters personalities. (Might come with a doodle)

[108garys]

I just had the dumbest mental image, picture Du'met is stalking Morello through the Castle but Joe's bald head is so shiny that he that he can see his reflection on the back of his head the whole time

[meitsuki24]

Here’s a Du’Met for spooky season 🍁

[ask-the-royal-absol]

(Legendary ask game:

Legendary Pokémon are an important part of world building, considering all of the lore about their role in the lives of Pokémon. So, I decided to make my own ask game for specifically that. As a fun Munday thing!

For this ask game, you get to ask about the legendary Pokémon of my world. You’ll need to say the name of the legendary Pokémon and use one of the symbols below.

🗣️ (talking person) - do they have any other names that they go by or that others call them?

💪 (strong arm) - what impact do they have on the world around them? What is their current role in the world?

📜 (scroll) - what has been written down about them?

👑 (crown) - how do common Pokémon see them? Do they see the legendary Pokémon as one to celebrate or one to fear?

✉️ (envelope) - any local legends about them?

🎉 (party popper) - what ceremonies or traditions are held for them?

🌍 (world) - have there been any wide-scale events surrounding them? Or do they work on a smaller scale?

🎵 (music note) - any rhymes or songs relating to this legendary?

🖋️ (pen) - a quote from a Pokémon that has met them before.

❤️ (heart) - are there any groups that worship them? What rituals do they practice for the legendary Pokémon?

(Note, I’ll be answering these for munday!)

[kahootqueen69]

don’t worry he’s fine, he’s just preparing his next traps

(this one goes out to @lacteaway for stating the cat in the closet is probably Du’Met’s, and now I can’t stop thinking about it)

[hope-to-hell]

Wash it Away. Hector Munday x Reader. What do you think he does in his downtime? Surely he doesn’t just bathe in the blood of innocents; there’s got to be something of the mundane to balance all this out. Maybe he takes his coffee with cream, watching morning mist roll across the lake. And maybe you can find him in the bath after a long night’s work. Smut.

———

How was last night?

Even reflected in the shaving-glass, his gaze cuts deep. But there’s the slightest crinkle in the crows’ feet that have begun to gather at the corners of his eyes; a bruise blooms beautifully down his side, but he moves with almost languorous fluidity. The last few strokes of his straight razor are precise, steps in a long-perfected dance. Went well enough. He leans to set aside the tray that holds his shaving kit, soap and water sliding slickly down his back. Hn. A sigh— a letting-go— slips free as he reclines in the bathtub.

Could be better, could be worse?

As it is with all things.

It’ll be a few days yet before another batch of guests arrives. There’s wallpaper to hang, fuses to replace, and a thousand other little tasks that come with a place like this. Later this afternoon he’ll surely be out working in the curing shed, sleeves rolled to the elbow, surrounded by the sick-sweet odor of formalin and meat. It’s messy work that somehow always gives him an intense appetite for the pleasures of the flesh. As likely as not he’ll chase you down and have you right there on the path, stones and twigs digging bruises into your hands, your face, your knees and thighs— everywhere, really— as you drool and pant into the dirt.

But right now— go on. Get in the tub. Take advantage of this all too brief time when there is no pressing business to take care of yet. Enjoy this. Enjoy him. These moments are so few that each is precious, to be treasured in the long dark nights when he sends you to your room and says stay gone til morning. Well, what are you waiting for? Don’t get lost in pleasure’s absence while it’s right there in front of you. He lifts a hand just so and it's got you stripping down like your clothes are on fire. Climb on in and settle back against his chest. Flick that last little bit of soap from his jaw.

This feels nice, doesn’t it? He’s so warm, so broad, thicker than you ever would’ve guessed before you first saw him out of those clothes— bloody after an unlucky night, stitching himself up with fishing line and looking thunderous like you still living was the icing on the fucking cake— remember that look? Remember what you said to him? You haven’t got a suture kit? What kind of mickey-mouse operation is this? Remember how you could practically hear the gears turning in his mind before he shrugged and turned back to his work?

Remember when that bravado of tired-beyond-tired mouthing-off gave way and left this in its wake? It’s strange how these paths branch and reconnect, how the fearful thrill of survival turns into anticipation. Remember— He chuffs and wraps an arm around you. Don’t get lost in it. The water’s just this side of scalding, such that somewhere beneath these mountains of bubbles he’s rosy-pink except for where he’s a deeply pulsing red. Oh. Oh. Even though you know he’s hard and wanting, it still sends that shock of anticipation down to your toes when he brushes against your ass.

Go on, then. Raise up just a bit, just enough to reach for him and guide him home. There’s a slowness to the drag and burn of him inside you, but give it a moment, won’t you? Relax. Feel his arm barred across your ribs. Watch the subtle clench of his jaw as his free hand traces down your belly and beyond, and with the delicate pinch and roll of his fingers he gives you exactly what you need.

Keep your eyes on him. He remembers how you like it, how to pin you on him, how to coax your thighs just that little bit farther apart. Watch his lips part. Keep your eyes open. It’s tempting to invite the dark, to erase everything but pure physical sensation, but you don’t want to miss this. You’re going to come on his cock one way or another, but think of how sweet it’ll be to see him follow you down; if you watch his face you might yet see the moment when he comes undone, when just for a moment he’s stripped down to his purest self. He's close, seeming to grow somehow even thicker and Fuck. I’m so full of you. I can’t—

You will.

Go ahead. Fall. There’s nothing left to do but feel it happen, so greet the little death and let it in. And that’s a growl, deep in his chest; he grips you tight and pulses inside, but his hand doesn’t stop, not til you’re thrashing in his grip from overstimulation. Shh. That’s it, relax. This is good, isn’t it? The comedown’s slow and shaky; he will hold you tight until he softens and slips free, but for now you remain pinned here, filled with his seed. Breathe slow and deep. In, out. In, out. That’s it. That’s good.

[taygetuspositive]

how time flies when you're having fun...

[smgsecretsanta]

We're starting the Secret Santa works reveal with

A gift from @oblivious-troll to @108garys!!!!

Alternative versions under the cut

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

Pinterest tag game The first character, real person, outfit & quote when you open pinterest is your vibe

tagged/stolen from the dash: tagging: @vxctorx @dontcxckitup-m @retrograderesemblance @survivics @shxlmes @kit-just-kit anybody else who would like to!

[taylorshope]

Here's a vid of the scene!

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

Tagged by: @starrysnowdrop Thank you so much for thinking of me!! 🥰

Last song: 2000 Miles by The Pretenders (the only Christmas Song I've ever really liked)

Favorite colour: White or Turquoise

Last movie/TV show: Erm...Scooby Doo.

Sweet/spicy/savory?: Sweet! Chocolate and toffee and cream cakes and...

Relationship status: Forever alone lol.

Last thing I googled: Koronus Expanse - I like my 40k Lore and I've just started playing Rogue Trader.

Current obsession: Baldur's Gate 3

Tag Nine People: @houserosaire @elfie-kitten @cimarraskylark @ae-fond-seeker @dragonsongmakhali @actualanxiousswampwitch @scholarlostintime @cadrenebula @miqomischief and anyone else who likes to respond.

[solarisgod]

──  little things about the mun !

i'm over 5'5 ( am 4'10" (つ﹏<。) ... ) / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or more piercings / i have at least one or more tattoos ( would love to have a few outer space related some time ) / i have blue eyes ( brown ) / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles ( had it for around four years ) / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face ( it's the 'tism ) / i play sports / i play an instrument ( played violin often at around age 10 ; would love to get back to it one day ! ) / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read ( having ADHD is a Nightmare ) / i can multitask ( <- same applies ) / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child ( have one younger brother and another older brother )

TAGGED : @sovrenyi ( thank you so much ! ♡ ) TAGGING : @neverrcry , @4heroes , @nuks , and you !

[108garys]

Seared

so here it is, the previously unnamed Du'lie soulmate au

I went with the "first words" concept for how it could be played with in this context, it takes place during the game and I also wanted to see how it'd go to be like "oh no!" about the realisation of meeting your soulmate and this is very much "don't evil people deserve happiness too?" 😂

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @tatjana-fantasy @mybrainrotforreal @tinynightmarewoman @aydeenchan @qusok @unhingedlesbear @kindheartedgummybears @ctrvpani

warnings are: canon typical violence, blood, canon reinterpreted, obsessive serial killer stuff, medical stuff, dismemberment, the universe says so, nerve fire related to concept, everyone else is mentioned but they aren't making it out

I did abandon some further epilogue concepts because I felt the story ended where it needed to and anything after would just be extra

Also it has alternating povs

Charlie was destined to die alone.

As a boy he'd eagerly anticipated the appearance of the first words his soulmate would say to him, emblazoned proudly on his wrist as he comes of age… But none came.

He found himself suffocated in his youth. To be surrounded by, yet excluded from the obsessive nature of those who fixate on their 'one true love'… Even to the extent of excusing less than appealing words in advance…

But he'd built his own happiness.

He was married to the job, his employees his family. He'd roll his eyes at the concept and soldier on, he's got work to do after all…

When the call came through asking for him by name with an offer too good to be true…He should have known better.

…Charlie knew he was going to die alone but not here, not yet!

After settling into Du'met's castle he'd argued with his employees over creative decisions on the episode and the whereabouts of their host, then things had gone sideways… Topeka level sideways.

Erin was missing, Kate and Jamie were worried something terrible had happened to her but he'd dismissed it, too attached to the opportunity of a life time…

…And now Charlie stands on a pressure plate, a scythe rigged to drop… a man tied bellow it… He faced an unwinable choice: Move and the innocent groundskeeper dies. Stay and face the wrath of the masked man towering over him. The man, imposing in his HH Holmes inspired costume, held a blade to Charlie's face, the sharpened edge a hair's width from his nose.

The metal bars between them did little to calm him. Leaning back as far as he can from the small opening in the dividing wall as the groundskeeper pleaded, Charlie didn't know if he was nobel enough to keep his feet planted solidly on the pressure plate to save a complete stranger or if he was simply too terrified to move.

Jamie had retreated from his side and his eyes were glued to… Du'met? It had to be…

The masked man's eyes bore into him. Unreadable. The screams of the other, loud classical music and his own fear built up overwhelming him. Any words he might have said getting caught in his throat. Tears prick the edge of his eyes but he dare not move, "Please…" he finally managed in a small shaky voice before whatever else he intended to stammer out died on his tongue. God he was stupid, the groundskeeper's cries hadn't been heeded, what did he think he was going to accomplish-!?

-Du'met's other hand shot through the grate taking hold of Charlie's wrist, roughly tugging him towards him. Charlie instinctively grabbed the metal bars to steady himself and prevent movement off the plate. Ever mindful of the blade, now held a little further from him. He stifled a cry as his wrist was twisted painfully at odd angles, as if to inspect the words that never appeared. Charlie was going to die alone and even his killer would know that nobody loved him. Great. Three decades of denying that hurt and he felt humiliated, tears welling and cheeks burning, he was too on edge to stand here being judged over this… It was such an idiotic thing to waste his tears on-

Charlie stumbled back as his hand was released. The lights cut off. His pulse rung in his ears. The groundskeeper's blood curdling screams abruptly silenced.

"Take my hand." He'd forgotten about Jamie, he blindly reached for her, at least she hadn't fully abandoned him. They carefully shuffled towards the far wall until they found the lights but… They were alone? The groundskeeper and his assailant had vanished, leaving only a trail of blood… Charlie protectively held his wrist, his skin burning where the gloved hand had touched and panic was beginning to take root as Jamie lead him back to the lobby.

Predictably they were trapped. The front entrance barred and attempts to reach the others futile… With every new discovery his fear reaches new heights. He was certain that if he came into contact with that man again his heart would simply give out, depriving his host the satisfaction of taking his life.

It was a meaningless consolation when he found himself falling down a trap door…

***

There was a time when the single word represented hope…

That some angle would step into his life and make sense of it all, who would demonstrate kindness and care for him from the first word. It was an alien concept for him but that naive fairytale had died a long time ago.

The revelation that his person was short tempered, crass and merely said the word for fear of him was inconvenient and the sensation unbearable. The single word scrawled across his wrist burnt as if carved by hot knives. Granthem would be tempted to cut the damn thing out of his skin were it possible, he'd settle for inflicting this fire apon Charlie Lonnit… Even in the privacy of his own mind the name felt different. Right. His 'soulmate' was lost in the basement, it would be a simple thing to guide him into the furnace and be done with it…

He traced over the word etched into his wrist, eyes glued to the younger man who wandered aimlessly across his monitor.

"…Please…"

He was accustomed to hearing his victims beg but the single word scarred his psyche as surely as it had his flesh.

"Please."

He wanted to hear it again, wanted Charlie on his knees begging for his life, knowing this was fate.

"Please!"

Granthem's mind flooded with all the ways he'd draw the word from him like it was the only one he knew…

But no, he took a deep breath, He couldn't allow this matter to cloud his judgement, he'd already ruined the first trial, the burning sensation a distraction… The mild pity that crept in made him more certain of his decision as he made his way to the furnace. Their brief union would soon be concluded.

He couldn't afford another mistake…

***

Charlie was lost in the darkness… Steps echoing. Hand burning. His breath uneven and body sore from the fall… He felt out of his mind, jumping at every little sound… Eyes on every shadow…

He finds things, things he's not supposed to see… Learns things he was never supposed to know… This man… This monster, had been killing for decades and he felt drawn as he always was, to the truth, to the chill that runs down his spine… That people can be like this… His adult life and career ambitions driven by this… Feeling the knife's edge, starring into the abyss? What was he supposed to feel? A hundred cases, a hundred answers… He clutches his wrist as it burns, what the hell is happening to him!?

Dead end after dead end… His shoes clank on the metal grate running through the centre of the empty room with nothing but a pack of cigarettes and nothing to light them.

Foot steps echo on the basement floor…

The door shuts as Charlie turns, as he rushes towards it, trying to prevent himself being locked. Overwhelming terror mixes with a desperate need to survive as Du'met moves into view of the small slot in the door. Not again! He won't let it be like last time. Although his heart races a million miles a minute he's determined. This time he grabs the other man's hand. Holding on for dear life as he pulls as hard as he can in the desperate attempt to force the Du'met to open the door!

But he's having none of it. Charlie's face slams into the door as the stronger man jerks his arm back. Hitting the ground with a thud… Head spinning as he sits up… The slot closes… He fixes his glasses, searching for a way out… there must be… Something grabs his attention as he attempts to lift the grate.

There at the far end of the room, rising from the floor… A mannequin with a lighter?

Charlie pulls at the grate. His heart skips a beat as it budges, stops as the room bursts into flames. He can't breathe, can't stay calm as he tries to keep his head, throwing his all into this one chance to be wrong, to have a future. To deny fate.

He refuses to die alone.

***

He remains tense. The problem was dealt with, Charlie was burnt away to nothing and yet the pain still lingered. Had he been mistaken? Would the cursed mark forever burn like the 'love' he tossed to the flames? He tries to ignore it, Charlie Lonnit was nothing to him and he refuses to regret his actions…

Granthem gathered his guest's belongings, two were dead soon the others would follow. He needed to clear his head, disposing of the Lonnit crew's personal effects should serve as a suitable distraction…

He activated the crusher while these thoughts clouded his mind. This was unlike him. What did he expect? That his soulmate would fall into his arms and they'd live happily ever after… He'd heard that it often does happen that way but he wasn't so naive to think that they'd be anything but miserable but as each item fell he dwell in all the wrong places. He saw something in that man… A will to survive that wasn't entirely uncommon but it felt… Different. The way the man, pathetic during the first trial, had returned his earlier gesture… The dull pain in his shoulder vastly overshadowed by the fire lit by a single word to fall from the mouth of someone he should have been happy with… It was like his mother said. Any person doomed to be his was better off dying alone-

A sudden scream tears him from his introspection. He deactivates the grinder before he has a chance to process. Charlie! He's still alive? How!? The fire in his skin flared up as he peers over the edge… "Please! Please… You fucking bastard!" Charlie pleads between insults and pained sobs. This is explains it. His hand hovers over the button, he has a second chance at this. Kill him and be done with it… His hand remains a solidly an inch above the button. The begging continues, he grabs the control panel with his other hand, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm the fury building inside, at Charlie for insulting and defying him, at himself for allowing the man to do so, at the way his hand wouldn't budge. Is it possible that he was incapable of killing him?

He stepped back from the panel. Charlie would die in his own time, the job of disposal could wait… He turned to leave but the man's voice was intoxicating, he found himself climbing down to Charlie, to get a closer look. One of Charlie's feet was lodged firmly into the machine, he'll surely die if left unattended…

He stood there just out of reach. Watching. Charlie had become incoherent between pain and fear. Almost subconsciouslay Du'met thought about the syringe he keeps on his person, how it could be used to put Charlie under so he could be moved… He got closer assessing what he'd need to remove the younger man, he felt compelled…

Amputation. He'd need a tourniquet. Charlie's screams picked up with renewed intensity as Granthem touched him. The lower part of the leg was a loss. He was sure the Brit would pass out from his rapid breathing. The man's belt would be suitable. Granthem lent over Charlie, taken by surprise as the man's arms encircle him, clinging to him like a half drowned rat. He tries not to focus on the nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he undoes the belt… His collar wet with tears, the trembling mess beneath him too far gone to fear him any longer...

Charlie whimpers as he pulls away, binding the belt tightly to the damaged limb. Unsure of what came over him, he leans back in planting a soft kiss on Charlie's forehead as he injects the younger man. He couldn't kill him, but he could watch as those beautiful blue eyes grew heavier, how they dulled as they try to make sense of what was happening and eventually Charlie's body went limp. He held the still form of his soon to be lover, reluctant to leave… But the limb still needed attention. Gently laying him as flat as he could, Granthem took in the sight, taking hold of the affected limb.

Dishevelled, bloody… Beautiful.

He smiles as bones break in his grasp, a sickening crack and so much blood…

***

Charlie squinted against the blinding light. A distant steady beeping sound he couldn't place… His mind was hazy and he felt as though he was being pushed into the ground… Was he even in the ground? A bed? A table…? A shadow fell over him as something passed, metal on metal echos somewhere near his feet… Glasses? Charlie thought reaching for where they aught to be, except-

He couldn't?

He tried again slowly moving his numb limbs but was met with resistance followed by a soft clinking sound. The restraints irritated his wrist, even in this state he couldn't escape the feeling… He tried to make out the shape moving around him, a man? Who is that? He tries to speak but only got out soft mumbling sounds… The man stood over him. What is that beeping? Cool hands soothe his nerves, gently caressing his face, Charlie pressed against them, breathing a sigh of relief… Blinking slowly he focuses as hard as he could through bleary eyes, unable to think of a single person who would display this level of gentleness outside of his mother but she was very far away… He thinks the man has brown eyes but he couldn't be sure as a fresh wave of exhaustion washes over him, he just needed to rest his eyes… Just for a little while… The beeping grew harder to make out as he sunk into warm darkness…

***

Granthem Du'met stalked the halls with confidence in his stride. With Charlie stable and the others dying one by one, everything is right in the world. Better than he thought they could be. He is certain he saw love in Charlie's eyes after he'd finished operating, even if it would take the man time to understand it…

He watched as the remaining crew danced to his tune, oblivious to the good news, Kate Wilder sat mourning for people who were dead and some who weren't and Mark Nestor gave a commendable performance… All the while they remain unsuspecting… He would correct his counter once they were gone… He would let the new guests settle in and soon, very soon, he'd have the happiness denied him for far too long.

He enjoyed one last look of terror as he pulled the trigger. Tying off the lose ends and making certain no can interfere with his happiness…

***

Charlie came to in a dark room... A single dim lamp the only source of light, casting strange shadows… It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone, Du'met stood in the corner like one of his damned mannequins, eyes never leaving him. Charlie shuddered at the unnatural way the light play across his mask, lighting up his dark eyes…

The man strides over, closing the distance. He stops by Charlie's bedside, smoothing his hair with his bare hands. It felt somehow perverse as his warm skin gently skim over his own. Charlie hadn't believed his hoast capable of such an intimate gesture…

Charlie struggled to prop himself up as the tall man withdrew, leaving him alone in the strange room. His eyes adjust to the darkness as he puts on his glasses. Shocked to find he is at home in his own bed, in his own room, but no… The wallpaper in his apartment looks nothing like this and yet it is his room with his things… What was Du'met playing at? Did he empty out his home just to prove he could?

He frowns as the light is turned on, Du'met returns with a tray, Charlie doesn't even care what's on it. He tenses as the tray is sat on his bedside table, he stares directly into the other man's eyes watching as he assess him, moving to sit on the bed-

Charlie takes them both by surprise as a snatches a knife from the tray and throws his weight towards the other man as hard as he can, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

He steadies his shaking, his body feels wrong, different, as he sits atop his would be killer and the man does nothing… Why won't he do anything!? Charlie tears off the man's mask, knife in hand and the other man calmly looks up at him… Why did he feel like he was in the wrong and not this monster? He held the sharpened blade to the man's throat, unable to process and again unable to move… A thin line of blood trickled from the shallow cut and Charlie was gasping for breath. What's wrong with him!? Why can't he just- He flinches as his hand was taken, the knife uselessly dropped to the floor… He looked down not truly comprehending his missing limb as Du'met's other hand stretched out before him, a single word emblazoned on his wrist in a way that immediately made sense… 'Please' his own word thrown back as if the mere act of presenting it was akin to repeating it…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Charlie slumped forward having overdone it. This is his soulmate? He couldn't think straight as he was gently scooped back into bed… It must be a lie but… No, he could feel the truth of the matter… He was tucked in as exhaustion crept inside of him, he'd heard once that every thing a person does slowly drives them towards their person…

He thought he was better than that, that his passions had nothing to do with anyone but himself.

He let out an involuntary chuckle at the irony that his love of true crime had driven him into the arms of a serial killer who can't kill him… Of all the ways to prove him wrong, fate had picked the cruellest.

Some part of him accepted these facts as he drifted off… Engulfed by pleasantly warm darkness. Again.

***

Time stretched on as a new normal settled over the castle… Charlie's recovery was of utmost importance, he was moved to a wing inaccessible by outsiders, given anything to make him more comfortable with his situation. Once Granthem was committed to the truth of their connection he became cautious of messing up, at worst he'd have an unwilling prisoner in a stalemate to protect everything he'd built…

He would show him they could be happy. He helped him every step of the way as he learned how to walk on new legs, to see with new eyes… He even gave his friends a proper burial to make things easier. Charlie taught him sign language, his mother had insisted he learn just in case…

He wondered what it was like to have a mother that cared about his happiness…

As Charlie grew more competent he became more comfortable with the arrangement and today he stands unassisted in the lobby, both feeling a lifetime older than when he arrived, he leans against the wall under the counter '0200', looking up at the completed goal before looking to the man across from him. Granthem waits, unmasked and at ease for the man to speak.

"What's next for us?" he asks with his arms folded over his chest, he doesn't wait for an answer as he steps forward. "I don't want to stay here forever," he shakes his head adding, "I love to travel, now that you've reached your goal I'd love to get out there again."

Charlie smiles softly, sensing the other man's worry. "You're basically retired now, don't you want to see the world with me? ...or at least go on holiday for a little while?" he waited for an answer, Granthem had never thought of his life after reaching his goal, never considered that he could simply be happy. He nods, signing "I won't be parted from you, love." as he closes the gap, embracing his person. Charlie rubs his back, continuing. "I don't expect you to give up your hobbies so long as you keep me in the loop, if ever that old itch returns we'll discuss the best way to deal with it, love." He felt as if he was the one with missing limbs as Charlie took his face and kissed him, he'd never felt such peace in all his life and he knew this was how it was supposed to be, Charlie keeps his hands clean while he revels in the excitement and Granthem knows full well that he has it in him to cross that line and that in of itself excites him. Charlie pulls away as his phone rings, one of the many little freedoms he'd been allowed, Du'met watches him as he speaks to his mother on speaker. She knows about them, or at least a more palatable version of them. As far as she knows Charlie lost his leg in a car accident after they eloped and he'd nursed him back to health, maybe one day they'd make the marital part factual… To say say he was in Pam's good books would be an understatement and now he wonders if he'll actually meet her one day, a real loving mother so unlike his own…

He instinctively held Charlie's hand, ready to face whatever comes next so long as they were together.

[astrxlfinale]

🌿 Author portrait. Get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

Basics.

Name/nickname: Jace. (Has been my net handle for forever.) The Grumpy Ass.

Age: 32! I am indeed made of all bones and walking canes now.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Years of writing: Since my mid-teens. It really started around the time I first got a computer at my grandma's old place. Was able to watch overseas shows then one thing led to another.

Reflection.

Why did you pick up writing?: For me if was to answer one simple thing. 'What if', and that itself could be tied to countless scenarios that wouldn't be shared in canon continuity. Initially it was what do the characters do off the screen, then it edged to getting more detailed, to what new journeys or shared moments could they have? It led to a hell of a fun snowball effect. Coming onto different platforms and seeing it was shared or that other folks were ahead of the curved served as some fun motivation. In all the good, bad and deadass kinds of wild. It led to another 'what if' to answer, and still is being answered to this day with the RP hobby.

Do you have any writing routines?: My methods for knocking out replies are to always actively read the post. (no duh Jace), BUT, this comes with the idea on how to blend and extend. How can I give the post offered to me its due diligence and reactions, but how can I equally build off that by ensuring there's enough content to be responsive to for my RP partner? I let my character perceive to find their voice in terms of response and actions during this process.

Afterwards once I got the framework in my head, I kick on some tunes I genuinely enjoy getting it all doled out with the metaphorical meat and potatoes.

That said when it comes to scrounging up not muse per say, but that certain line of writing that I'm satisfied with? I just hop back to old works (fan made and official) that really worked those writing wrinkles in my head. There's some content that vividly let my fingers flow to 'paint a picture', in either emotion or literal presence in scene setting.

What's your favorite part about writing?: For me it'd just be bringing feeling to a scene. To give a very easy ground for anyone, experienced or new in this kind of thing to just feel the said scene. Not as some realistic one for one, but as a means to let their imagination comfortably sit in the drivers seat and have these elements expand before it. Tied with that is being able to find neat/cool ways to highlight my own muse's emotions through writing, letting it so volatile in it's creativity and their said emotions in said scenario.

Three things you like about your writing.

One. I really enjoy how shameless my writing can be. Honestly speaking, my personal taste never really clashed well with 'refinement'. It's blunt and broad, it holds energy and isn't ashamed to really let that be. I feel like that essence of 'voice' within writing is an important fundamental for me enjoying it. In hand with this, it's also why I never could actively write like other authors, and trying to say write similar to how a series does would never great great results from me. I want to carry that particular voice that varies with my muses, and have it flourish with what they also bring to the table.

Two. One thing I've also become proud of is details. Coming from a point where text based dialogue writing was my main bread and butter, watching the change in how it actually expanded has been like night and day for me. In particular, being able to describe a scene in these warm, cold or chaotic ways, adding that touch of whimsical flare to my posts as well. It's primarily why I get my kick from always having some fantasy in my settings, old age, modern or futuristic all the same. I love when I can get to use all the extra detail as extensions.

Three. This isn't tied into the act of writing in itself. Now days however I have to say I really improved on the aspect of proper plotting. My main issue was that I used to make it sound either too much like a script, or I got so creativity locked that it actually sucked the fun out the process for me. Taking some new approaches to the RP hobby has actually ironed out this detail, and I've come to see the incredible amounts of fun that can be held with it too. I intend taking the utmost advantage as well.

A question for the next person.

Write a question for the next person to answer. Once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

When life throws you lemons, and gets you down, does writing become something that you're drawn to as to get you through it, or do you feel like it does the opposite?

For me it'd be the absolute opposite. My creativity first and foremost is tied to me having a good mood. Being in more negative headspaces generally makes me harder to approach, so normally I wouldn't frequent any social angles for a prolonged period while I get that ironed out. It becomes a case of contrasting gears that are heavily rusted.

This is why I often put emphasis on this being a hobby for me. To me, it's similar as to booting up a video game for example and giving it a good spin. A more downtrodden me is moreso being a slough and not really wanting to move, outside of just watching tv while being a bump on a log. Stuff like that needs genuine time for me or a key situation involving said scenario to really iron out those kinks.

It leaves a bad taste for my type of character let that touch of escaping get involved.

New question: What are your favorite details that you enjoy to highlight about your muse through writing? Is a physical element? A measure of character that holds the most flare? This can have multiple answers or a solitary one.

Tagged by: @araneitela Look at you dive bombing me with this. Thank you kindly homegirl.

Tagging: Any and all can proceed to take part! What's your writing lore, let the fine details fly out.

[qusok]

So, Du'met, yeah?

He's weird and violent, maybe a little out of character (at least because originally he doesn't talk).

@lacteaway (I promised. Have fun hehe)

[mothvalentino]

⸺ 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 : V

• what's your phone wallpaper: a hand reaching out of the ocean with a starry night sky above (I'm too lazy to get it from my phone lol)

• last song you listened to: a bunch of Kendrick Lamar stuff, I think my favorite song of his is 'LOVE' but 'FEAR' is also really amazing

• currently reading: nothing, I really struggle with finishing books

• last movie: a short movie on youtube called 'Portrait of God' if you're into psychological/creature horror definitely check it out!

• what are you wearing right now?: blue oversized shirt and black sweatpants lol

• how tall are you?: 5'1, Levi size xD

• piercings / tattoos?: none, I fucking hate needles

• glasses / contacts: nay

• last thing you ate?: pasta

• favorite color: blue

• current obsession: Hazbin Hotel, Kendrick Lamar's music, Drag Race

• do you have a crush right now?: not really, more like nostalgia for old ones, I've kinda given up on love (not really I'm just jaded)

• favorite fictional characters: Beatrix Kiddo, Mystique, Wolverine, San from Princess Mononoke, Jessica Rabbit, Doflamingo, Nico Robin, Annie Leonhart, Mikasa, Levi, Angel Dust, Valentino, Vaggie, Lilith, and many more

• last place you traveled: I think Italy? Has been ages since I traveled to another country, I honestly really miss it but I don't have the money

tagged by: stolen from @velvetwarfare

tagging: @dark-ambition @poisonedspider @electriccapitalist @antlered-host (if you want to/haven't done it already)