spngroupieā:
He doesnāt move, and his grip on her shoulders doesnāt waver. Both signs that heās not buying her words. So, before he even says it, she already knows heās gonna want to talk about it. And, even if she DOESNāT want to AT ALL, sheās gonna hear him out. Chuckās not the type to back down, anyways. She sighs, presses her lips together, reaches up to rest a hand over his and nods. All as if to say āgo ahead, Iām listeningā.
'Iām proud of you if you get one can down, or all fiveā, he says. When Becky gets in a mood and down on herself, itās hard to get out of it. Butā¦ that part of his whole speech to make her feel better? Kind of did it. Itās weird to have someone care this much about her. Heck, itās weird to have someone care about her at all. Sheās not used to it. And, to this day (almost a year into the relationship), she still looks at him and wonders why he does. Regardless, sheās glad. Glad that heās in her life. āWell, first I wanna do this-ā if he wanted a warning, thatās his ONLY one. But she doesnāt give him enough time to think on it! Oh no. She leans in soon after, presses her hands against his cheeks, and pulls him into a kiss. Merely a peck, really. But she had to. Then, she pulls away, smiling real wide. āā¦ and now I wanna shoot the ones left standing.ā Becky, you kinda need to let go of him to do that! She will, though. In a second. Sheās more motivated to do it now, anyways.Ā "Thanks, Chuck.ā
Becky didnāt look like she wanted to hear what he had to say, but Chuck had to tell her he was proud of her. Because he was. He didnāt support this whole huntingĀ thing, but he wanted her to be happy. So he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes, and, before he could say anything else, sheād darted forwards and held his face, and kissed him super quick -- too quick for him to really kiss her back. He blinked a couple of times, and smiled at her.
āYeah, I can see why you wanted to do that first,ā he said, only half joking. And then she said she wanted to shoot the cans left standing, and he nodded encouragingly.Ā āSure, babe. You got this. Iām right here if you need anything.ā He rubbed her shoulders gently, and then let go of her and stepped back, so she had the space to focus. She just had to get this hunting phase out of her system, and sheād go back to being just Becky, his girl, again. Chuck folded his arms tightly across his chest and waited for her to fire again. He had total faith that, this time, sheād be able to hit the cans sheād left standing.
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dcpravitiesā:
in truth, andrew didnāt listen to half of the workout routines that the coach had given to everyone. heād crumpled it into a ball immediately, shoving it into his pocket to be completely forgotten about. anyone trying to tell him what to do would never work, and that was one thing he was absolutely certain of by now. authority figures had no place in his life, people whoād simply used it to their advantage without any actual care. so if he was out for a job now, it wasnāt because the coach had mentioned them needing to do so, it was just an excuse to waste his time - and get some space between himself and the apartment, at least to clear some thoughts on his mind.Ā
when he paused, catching his breath for a moment, it was impossible to miss the random guy sitting in the middle of the wood. and while andrew was about to turn and walk away, leaving whoever this freak was to their own devices, he did notice the strange sight - something he slowly noticed was a mouse. he wasnāt sure if he was more disgusted by the actual sight, or the fact that the person seemed to be impressed with himself with what was going on. at the mention of the chair, andrew took another step forward, placing his hand on it.Ā āis this for me to bash your face in for whatever youāre doing right now?ā he commented flatly, his knuckles turning white after a moment.
Chuck turned when the guy spoke.Ā āWhat?ā he asked, squinting at the stranger. It was a kid. Huh. This guy couldnāt have been more than twenty years old. And he was threatening to bash his face in? Yeah. Okay. Sure. He didnāt let go of the mouse, just held it in place with his powers, but he kept his gaze on the kid.Ā āIām not doing anything kiddo,ā he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. It was true -- he didnāt wanna hurt the critter. He just wanted to do something. Gosh, he was so freaking bored with this place. With the limits on his powers. With all of it. Becky or no Becky, he hated being this stuck in one place.
āHow about you cool it, yeah?ā he asked the kid.Ā āThe chairās actually for sitting on. Shocker, I know.ā He raised his eyebrows and nodded at it, gesturing for the stranger sit down, and then shuffled on the floor, so he turned to face the kid, the mouse still in his lap, held still with barely a thought.Ā āGo on,ā he said.Ā āYou look like you need to chill out.ā
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ā¢ - something that excites my muse
SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR A FACT // not accepting
ā¢: something that excites my muse
Like a mad scientist from an old horror movie, Chuck gets really excited about creating things. When he had all his powers, before he got stuck in D.C., he totally spun out of control, making worlds that had no logic (a world where everything ran in reverse, a world where there was no yellow, a world inhabited by squirrels, etc.). He might call himself a writer, but really, heās a creator. He loves to build worlds, design new species and āeditā old ones. Heās really just like Victor Frankenstein, but on a cosmic scale.
He misses making things from scratch, now heās stuck in D.C.. He doesnāt have all of his powers here, and he canāt make anything living out of nothing. The most he can do is conjure inanimate objects, and he likes to do this when he gets in a creative mood, but it doesnāt totally scratch that itch. He often goes off by himself and builds a bar to brood in, or some inanimate object, or, if heās at home, he adds a new room onto the houseĀ that heās sharing with Becky, or changes their bed, or just conjures countless random household items out of total boredom.
Creating excites Chuck. As much as he wants to be seen as some relatable guy -- not really GodĀ anymore -- heāll never notĀ be excited by that aspect of his powers, and heāll always love making things, and always love creating. Itās just a part of his being. His sister, the Darkness, is nothingness and destruction, but Chuck is life, creation, and Being.
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ć something that makes my muse uncomfortable - chuck
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ć: something that makes my muse uncomfortable
This is a difficult one to answer, because not many things make Chuck uncomfortable. Heās lived for so long that heās basically seen and done everything, and he doesnāt get embarrassed easily. Heās got a ridiculous amount of self-confidence and ego, and he rarely thinks heās wrong about anything, so making him uncomfortable isnāt an easy thing to do. Heās pretty unshakeable.
The one thing I can think of, however, is when someone calls himĀ āGodā (or, as he calls it, uses theĀ āG wordā). When heās himself, and not being a totally insane arrogant jerk, he hates being called God. When heās just being Chuck -- down-to-earth, fun-loving, #relatable, Chuck Shurley -- he doesnāt like being called God, the Lord, or any variation of that. He likes to think of himself asĀ āone of the peopleā (sort of), and doesnāt like any reminder of who he really is. A surefire way to make him uncomfortable, when heās in a good mood, is to call him God, Alpha and Omega, the Lord, etc. Basically, anyĀ āhigh and mightyā title that humans have invented for God? Throw that at him, and heāll be super uncomfortable.
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ā - something my muse would be patient with
SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR A FACTĀ // not accepting
ā: something my muse would be patient with
In a word? Becky. Becky Rosen is the person who springs to mind when I think ofĀ āChuck being patientā. I realise the question asked for something, and I could easily talk about how patient he is when it comes to building new worlds -- coming up with new species, designing new environments, and the unbelievable, incomprehensible, complexities that come with making a whole world from scratch -- but that doesnāt apply in Washington, since he canāt build whole worlds here.
So, Iām going to talk about Becky. In D.C., Chuck doesnāt have much patience. He gets irritated quickly, with people and situations, and what he thinks is theĀ āboring way of lifeā heās forced to live here. But, when it comes to Becky, he has an unbelievable amount of patience. She just melts his heart. Itās like all the love, empathy, and patience, that he used to be capable of, millennia ago, has been directed at this one woman. Chuckās thrown people forĀ ādisrespecting himā (see: his confrontations with Adam Milligan and Castiel) and lost his temper for basically no reason at all (see: his confrontations with Dean Winchester). But when it comes to Becky? He has the fabled patience that Christians say Godās supposed to have.
Itās really not logical, and I could go more into whyĀ thatās happened, but I donāt want to keep rambling, so Iāll leave it here. But basically the only thing that comes to mind when I think about patience in relation to Chuck, is Becky Rosen.
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Man am I a sucker forĀ āsend me museā lists but I canāt find a single list that I like so can someone rec one or just use this
ā» - something that my muse would redo if they could
ā - something my muse would like to skip
ā - something my muse would like to go back to
ā¶ - something my muse would like to relive
ā - something my muse would cut out of their life
ā - something my muse would write to someone in a letter
ļ¼ļ¼- something my muse thinks but keeps to their self
ā - something my muse is proud of
ā - something my muse sucks at
ā¬ - something my muse like to listen to
ā - something my muse does in the summer
ā - something my muse does in the fall
ā - something my muse does in the spring
ā - something my muse does in winter
āØ - something that makes my muse uncomfortableĀ
ā¹ - something that makes my muse sad
ā¢ - something that excites my muse
ć something that makes my muse uncomfortable
ļ¼ - something my muse would like write in a call out post
ā - something my muse thinks they are like
ā - something my muse thinks they are nothing like
ā - something my muse would be patient with
ā - something my muse hopes to achieve
~ more to come ~
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Chuck was happy with Becky. He was settling down with her, living a pretty normal life. Theyād got a cat, for crying out loud. He was going grocery shopping. But he missed creating ā he missed making things out of nothing. That spark of creativity, that gnawing need to make life, to build things, to experiment, was still there. And he couldnāt talk to Becky about it becauseā¦ what did she know? He loved her, but she was only human. She didnāt understand what it was like to breathe life into nothingness, to make whole worlds. And he was afraid that, if he told her, sheād look at him differently. No. The only way he could deal with this was by getting it out of his system.
He wasnāt powerful enough to make anything living, here. Heād tried. The most he could do was create inanimate objects. Heād built Deanās Impala, and that had scratched the itch for a while, but it was back again. So, he went off into woods, as far out as he could get, and sat cross-legged on the ground. He couldnāt create life out of nothing, but he couldā¦ Ā edit. It wasnāt the same as making something out of thin air, but sometimes, you had to work with what youād got. So, Chuck snapped his fingers, and a mouse appeared, right in front of him, pulled from the undergrowth. He held it still without touching it, and looked at it.
āThis is what Iām reduced to, huh?ā he muttered, half to himself, half to the creator of this world, who he figured mightāve been listening. He didnāt do anything to the mouse, just studied it as it sat there, its little pink nose twitching. Here he was, grubbing around in the dirt like an animal. Heād made whole universes, and he was stuck here, reworking an already living thing to get a kick. āPathetic,ā he hissed. He didnāt know what he even wanted to do that he hadnāt already done, at some point in his life. Remove its eyes? Put its ears on its back? What was the point? Nothing was original. He was working with a completed picture. So, he just held the mouse still and glared at it, hatefully, undecided.
When he heard a twig snap behind him, and sensed someone there, he didnāt even turn around. āSit down, if youāre staying,ā he called, not caring who it was. He didnāt mind an audience ā in fact, he kind of preferred it. It helped him focus. He waved his hand to conjure a wooden chair out of thin air and gestured to it. āGo ahead.ā
@hiddenstarters
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I hope this email finds you fearing the righteous wrath of God.
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trixmewitchā:
she shrugged at his remark,Ā āi dunno, itās more of something to keep me occupied. i guess i could alwyas use magic to get what i want, but i feel like itās more fun to work for it,ā she said with a laugh.Ā āespecially if i can get a job as a journalist, i mean, that would hardly be like work if i love it,ā she suggested. she let out a small laugh,Ā āyou know what it sounds like you need, old man?ā she asked, wiggling her eyebrows,Ā āa job,ā she said as a chuckle escaped her.Ā
Chuck wrinkled his nose when Daphne said it was more funĀ to work for stuff. He didnāt get that. Heād worked real hard, way back when, at the beginning of time. Heād worked hard every time heād built a new universe. But here? Now? This wasnāt his world. He hadnāt made it. What the heck was the point in working hard at some boring job in a world that wasnāt even freaking real?
When she said she knew what he needed, Chuck raised his eyebrows in mild interest. And then, she said it. A job. He scoffed in disbelief.Ā āYouāre kidding, right?ā he asked, but he had a feeling she wasnāt. He let the old manĀ comment slip past, because he liked Daphne, and heād started it anyway.Ā āYou really think IĀ need a job? Cāmon. Dāyou see meĀ answering to some frigginā manager whoās been alive for a quarter of a century?ā He squinted at his friend, but in a good-natured way. āWhat the heck would a job give me?ā he asked, because he seriously wanted to know what sheād say.
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minaalabaā:
The bourbon tastes strangely sour on her tongue. It almost makes her feel like sheās home, amma can almost pretend that the loud music playing in the bar is the classical songs her father used to play around the house. Sleep wasnāt her friend lately and this place seemed like the right play to go. Green hues took in her surroundings, people sweating everywhere and some lonely folks trying to drown whatever thoughts they couldnāt handle. Funny, she never wanted to be the latter, yet here she was.
A drink, that she didnāt order, was put in front of her. with a crease of her brow, the bartender pointed at the person seating two seats away from her. amma raised a perfect sculpted brow as a question. Ā @hiddenstartersā
Chuck didnāt chat up people at bars anymore. When heād been travelling, before he got stuck here, sure. He used to chat up anyone, if he wanted some company. But now, he was here, and he was going steady with Becks, and the thought of hitting on a total stranger a bar was kind of gross. But that didnāt mean the tricks didnāt work, even if he didnāt wanna sleep with whoever caught his eye. So, he spotted a girl who looked like her mind was a million miles away, and he figured she could do with some company. He ordered her what he was drinking, and, when she turned to look at him, he raised his own glass, smiled, and walked over.
āDonāt worry, kid, Iām not hitting on you,ā he said, straight away.Ā āIāve got a girlfriend.ā He sat down next to her without asking if he could.Ā āYou just looked real lonely? And hey, I could always use the company.ā He grinned at her. He felt like this was probably pretty weird, by human standards, but if she told him to piss off, at least he could say heād tried to be friendly.
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bojackxhorsemanxā:
ā Open StarterĀ ā
āWhat?ā BoJack gruffed. By now, he had been in the bar for a considerable amount of the day. It was heading into late afternoon and heād been there from just after heād woken up. He was slumped over his table, one hand holding his phone, and the other, his drink. His sleeve was submerged in a lukewarm pool of spilt booze, but he was yet to take notice. He looked back to his phone, only to again be disturbed by the stranger.Ā āIf you hadnāt noticed, this seat is taken, and it will be for quite some time.ā he looked up again, growing frustrated at the otherās intent on disturbing his afternoon of staring blankly at his phone while his thoughts danced around him, occasionally jabbing him enough to bring him back to reality.Ā āThis better be good, and not involve moving from this chair.ā
@hiddenstartersā
The guy was a freaking mess. Chuck didnāt usually go to bars by himself, but Becky was closing up the store, and he was sick of hanging around at home with her. So, heād headed out, and decided to get himself a drink. And something about this guy, with his ratty hair and dark aura, had just drawn Chuck over. He feltĀ totally human, so that wasnāt it. Maybe it was because Chuck was just so freaking bored out of his mind with this town, and these people, and this guy seemed pissed off at the world. He didnāt know. But it was only when heād gone over that he noticed the stranger had his sleeve in a pool of spilled booze.
āYeah, I noticed, man,ā he said, uncharacteristically peaceably. He sat down next to the guy, holding his own glass. He took a casual sip, and then swallowed, and then nodded at the other guyās sleeve.Ā āYou might wanna take care of that,ā he said.Ā āYour shirtās gonna stink of beer.ā He could have cleaned it up in a second with a snap of his fingers, but he didnāt wanna go and reveal his powers to a probably drunk stranger.
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drvcxrysā:
(Āø.ā¢ ā ā the girl just took his hand to shake once, however, she still doesnāt trust him, she canāt trust someone that approaches to her that way and ask her just that, of course not, she canāt act like nothing happened and to start over.Ā āthere is nothing to start from the top, really, butā¦iām annabeth.ā she wasnāt going to say the last name, names were power so she prefers to just be reserve about everything.
āOh come on,ā Chuck said, a little sharply, dropping her hand.Ā āNow youāre just being contrary.ā He understood being careful around a strange, sure, but heād been friendly, hadnāt he? He hadnāt given her any reason to be nervous.Ā He forced himself to relax, and smiled.Ā āBut whatever, water under the bridge, right? Itās nice to meet you, Annabeth.ā His tone was forced -- his acting skills werenāt what they used to be. āDāyou like it here in D.C.?ā he asked. He figured heād open with an innocent question, seeing as how they were starting this meeting form the top.
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trixmewitchā:
ādefinitely not me,ā she joked back with him.Ā āa bookstore sounds like a nice harmless job,ā she said.Ā ānothing?ā she questioned.Ā āi mean, aside from the whole losing memories, showing up here with no recollection as how, not being able to leave ā¦ shall i go on?ā she said as a laugh escaped her lips.Ā āand thank you, that means a lot.Ā
āThatās ācause it isĀ a nice, harmless, job,ā Chuck replied.Ā āItās very... Becky. But I donāt get it. She doesnāt have to work. Heck, youĀ donāt have to work, Daphne.ā He frowned at her.Ā āYou can just... magick what you need, right? Like I do. I donāt get it.ā He sighed, and settled back into his chair as she listed all the stuff that happened here.Ā āNah, you donāt have to go on,ā he said, carelessly. He knew she was joking, but he didnāt smile.
āI get what youāre saying, but... aside from that stuff? I mean, once you get past the annoying amnesia and the random appearances. What the heck happensĀ here? Nothing. Someone like you -- a freaking witchĀ -- has to get a day job for something to do!ā He realised he was rambling, so he cut himself off.Ā āSorry, kid. Iām just... not used to a slow life, I guess. Donāt mind me. Just the complaints of a very, very, old man.ā
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irresistiiblesā:
@worldsbuildā / karolina & chuck
She had been practising her abilities. It was difficult, with no guidance and only small clues on what she was and what she could do Karolina was stuck figuring out just about everything by herself. She didnāt even know the limits of what she could do. So far there had been the glowing, and then flying, or more like hovering or her sake as she was far too cautious to go high off the ground, but considering how much of a surprise the latter had been Karolina couldnāt feel confident saying that was all there was. The best she could do was try and have those under control by the time she learned anything else.Ā
It was hard, finding empty spots to practice in a city like Washington, but she had found a few semi reliable spots, and just had to trust herself to be paying enough attention to hear someone coming in time. Of course there was going to be a day that didnāt last. She had been in the park, though pulled off to a far end with a good cluster of trees, a much less popular spot than any of the actual trails and well maintained foliage. She had been floating and glowing, just a few feet from the ground, when she heard footsteps, much too close for comfort. Her eyes widened as she did her best to quickly bring herself to the ground, not as fast as sheād like in an attempt to still be gentle with herself. Finally, when her feet were settled she shoved her bracelet back on, the glowing coming to a stop and the more normal looking tone returning to her skin.
She looked, finally fully facing the stranger.Ā āUh, how much of that did you see?āĀ
It was shocking, really, how boringĀ this place was. For a town full of people from other worlds, people with magic, other deities, angels he hadnāt created, nothing ever happened here. The frigginā squirrel world heād made on a whim had been more exciting than Washington, D.C. When Becky was at work, Chuck just wandered around, teleporting randomly, hanging out with his few friends sometimes, just looking for something to do. Sometimes, he followed the trails of auras he felt, of beings and creatures he didnāt recognise, but, when he saw a kid glowing pink, floating off the grounds, he hadnāt actually been looking for her. Heād just come across her, totally by chance.
She lowered herself to the ground quickly, but it was too late. Chuck walked over to her, smiling a little. At least this was something. He shoved his hands into his pockets casually.Ā āAll of it,ā he said.Ā āThe floating, the glowing. Catās out of the bag, kiddo.ā His smile warmed. She was younger than sheād looked when her skin was glowing, and he didnāt wanna freak her out.Ā āBut donāt worry,ā he added.Ā āI wonāt tell anyone. Iām guessing you wanna keep it on the D.L., right?ā That was how kids spoke, wasnāt it? He tried to keep up with the lingo. He kept meaning to ask Becks, but he always forgot.
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