#MEMES ;; about the muse

[not-wholly-unheroic]

50 Random Character Asks:

1. Canon I outright reject

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

3. Obscure headcanon

4. Favorite line

5. Best personality trait

6. Worst personality trait

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

8. Unpopular opinion about them

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

11. Faceclaim for the role

12. Crack headcanon

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

14. Most heroic moment

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

19. Vices/bad habits

20. Scars

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

22. Best physical feature

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

24. Most annoying habit

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

27. Their guilty pleasure

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

29. Eating habits

30. Sleeping habits

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

35. Their idea of a perfect day

36. Their favorite season

37. What they really think about themselves

38. Favorite holiday

39. Favorite game

40. Favorite book

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

42. 3 comfort items

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

44. Their happiest memory

45. Their favorite celebrity

46. The person they most admire

47. Their dream job

48. Scariest moment of their life

49. Favorite toy as a child

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

[mintymemesandrpshop]

Blog info meme!

Send ⚠️ for an important, need to know fact about the muse or mun Send 🥣 for a useful fact. Send 🪧 for a Rules fact (why it's in place, an example or worry, etc.) Send 🎨 for a fandom/series fact (for people who haven't watched/read the original media, including OC lore you published) Send 😹 for a funny fact (or joke, shitpost, etc.) Send 🦖 for a worldbuilding fact Send ☕ for an AU or Verse fact (compare/contrast, etc.) Send 🐏for community/mutuals/dash fact Send ಠ_ಠ for a stupid/unbelievable fact Send (❁´◡`❁) for a sweet fact Send (¬‿¬) for a naughty/mischievous fact Send ಥ_ಥ for a sad fact Send (ˉ﹃ˉ) for a cozy fact Send （＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ for an infuriating :))) 🙃💢fact

[expectiations]

The Husbands of River Song is not and has never been about the Eleventh Doctor being a deadbeat, distant husband (gross mischaracterization by the way) and the Twelfth Doctor being the "better, more mature, affectionate" husband.

It was about River Song. It was about River and how the events in Manhattan took such a toll on her. It was about letting us see River dealing with grief the way The Snowmen showed us how the Doctor coped after losing believing he had used up all his time with River.

Looking at THORS now with The Ruby's Curse in mind, I get the instinct (for lack of a word that I cannot remember) that the Manhattan incident Blue Roach read from River's diary was not the Manhattan episode that we saw in series 7.

On that note, I'd also like to bring up the fact that the Doctor grounds River and River grounds the Doctor. As Tree talked about in one of her tags, River's empathy is more cognitive than emotional and after musing on it for a bit – considering that the Doctor can no longer go to Manhattan (which may have changed in later series but I wouldn't know at the moment because I have yet to overcome series 7b) and that River does spend time with her parents in Manhattan post-TATM, would the latest Manhattan incident in River's diary be the funeral for Amy? Amy's death? Perhaps even Anthony's? I mean, we already know Rory died five years earlier than Amy. So, knowing how deep River's love for her mother is, it's not too farfetched to say that River spent that time with them. River was by their bedsides as they drew their last breath.

Then Rory's gone, Amy's gone, Anthony's gone. Where does that leave River? Where is the Doctor? (sulking on a cloud on top of Victorian London? trying to figure out the mystery of his newest companion? all while constantly mentioning a certain Professor Song who actually turns out to be his dearly sort of departed absolutely beloved wife?)

Without her parents (and her husband) to ground her, she goes on this maddened, grieving space Robin Hood spree. She seeks fun to fill in the void and takes up marriage as a hobby/side quest. Does she look for the Doctor? Perhaps. Yes, actually. Considering she crashed her latest sort-of-husband's ship onto a planet where she purported the TARDIS to be.

But... she's stealing the TARDIS. She could have just called the Doctor, yeah? So, she doesn't want the Doctor to know then. Well... yeah, considering she has two sort-of-husbands in hand.

So, River would just have gone on from one space Robin Hood spree to the next had the TARDIS not sort-of-stranded herself on Mendorax Dellora to make sure her Water stopped being stubborn and reconcile(?) with her Thief?

Also taking note of how River has read stories about them and knows that Darillium is purported to be their last night together (I could also bring up the fact that this is why I find it easy to digest the "River meeting regenerations of the Doctor younger than the Tenth Doctor makes sense and doesn't break cannon nor ruin SITL/FOTD" but that would take a whole other post). Does this River believe her time with the Eleventh Doctor has ended? The same way series 7b Eleven believed his time with older versions of River has ended? Is this all part of some grand fuckup in communication all thanks to their tangled timelines?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But has River not just been running from her family's death? Has River been running from her supposed last night with the Doctor?

"But River doesn't run." Oh yes. Yes, she does. She knows when to stand her ground. She knows when to charge. And she knows when to run.

"That's out of character for her." No, it's not. She's not invincible. She's this well trained assassin, yes. But invincible? No.

Invincible from the tendency to be blinded by their emotions? Obviously not.

River lies. And River runs.

She is not afraid of her death. She is afraid of the day when her husband, her Doctor, looks into her eyes and looks right through her. And it shouldn't kill her but it does. It did.

So she ran and ran until her bigger-on-the-inside Mum gently reached out and put her back together with the only person left who could ground her. Who she didn't recognize at first but still fell in love with (and would have loved even if he hadn't been revealed to be her actual, long missing husband). Who finally found out their last night wasn't just any night – it was a twenty-four year long last night. Who finally gave her a breather from all the running she'd been doing.

And oh what a night that was (it was the talk of the universe).

[constellationcrowned]

[drones-of-innocence]

Traveled Half the World to Say, You Are My Muse...

What if in an alternate universe, Princess Peach was an exchange student studying art?

She might enjoy getting a daily coffee before classes, and particularly over the weekends where she planned to walk around the city in search of her muse.

Until, one day, she finds him.

Her muse appears to her in the form of a man at a coffee shop on a rainy day.

The dreary light from the windows catches the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, and a frustrated hand combs back dark curls as he focuses on his laptop. A full cup of coffee sits, forgotten, by his elbow.

"Excuse me," she approached him before she can think twice, after blocking the doorway and apologizing to the incoming customers who stumbled into her. A childish sense of shame filled her, and she grasped at the straps of her messenger bag. He glanced up at her with those piercing eyes. Her throat went dry. "May—may I sketch you?"

She sees his eyes dart across her face, to the University's emblem on her shirt, to the messenger bag covered in bright patches. His mustache hides his mouth, so she can't tell what he's thinking behind that even stare.

The lack of a response compels nervous laughter. "I'm an art student. It'd just be really quick. I won't bother you; it's good practice, that's all." the explanation bubbled out of her through his silence. The other people sitting in the shop thankfully paid her no mind beyond a glance or two. She struggled not to force a harder smile.

His eyes narrowed for just a moment. She detected a touch of suspicion in his creased brow.

"Sure. Fine," he said, nodding to the seat in front of him before returning his attention to his laptop.

Relieved, Peach practically sank into the chair. "Oh, thank you. Don't mind me at all, it won't take long." she whipped out her sketchbook and pencil, trying to find a blank page to begin. He didn't answer, reviewing whatever was on his screen.

She started by mapping out the general form of his torso and face. He was quite a short man, much shorter than her, but he had an incredibly sturdy build. He wore a modest sweater, but she could see a hint of definition in his shoulders and chest even through the draping red cloth. She wondered if he was very active. Or perhaps his job demanded a certain degree of fitness.

He seemed older than her, but not by much at all. Maybe he was a recent graduate? She focused a little more on his face, trying not to get distracted by his eyes, to sketch out an accurate shape.

His sharp jawline contrasted with his round cheeks. "You have a very impressive mustache," she said, trying to capture the angles just right. She had never seen such a remarkable mustache. It suited the shape of his face so well that she had a hard time imagining his face without it. He didn't respond except to glance at her, expression still unreadable.

She grazed her pencil over the paper, a ghost of a line indicating a suspected dimple in his cheek. She wouldn't know for sure unless he smiled.

"Your nose is so unique," she murmured, careful to capture the precise form. Such a striking round shape. At this, she noticed him let out a sharp sigh and keep a stern focus on his computer. She was nearly done, though, so she had to persist. Had to get this specimen on paper.

Her education had created an efficient artist out of her. Her lines gained more focus, nearly portraying an accurate likeness.

It was those eyes that had captured her attention in the first place. She traced the shape of his thick brows, framing his face with a soft intensity. Nothing in the cafe could draw her away. Not the constant ringing of the doorbell as people came and went, not the steady noise level from the dozens of conversations around them. Not even the rich scent of the coffee that she so adored. Instead, her nose was more keen toward the fresh, clean scent that she assumed was the man's cologne. Her cheeks grew a little warm.

She just managed to trace the shape of his irises, though her linework could not capture the way the color almost glowed. She had never felt such a spark inside as she did looking upon this man. "Your eyes are so beautiful," she said, looking between him and the page. "I don't think I've ever seen such a bright blue before..." she looked up, only to trail off as she realized he was glaring at her.

"That's enough." The man stood from his stool in a flash, shoving his laptop in a bag. Peach jumped. Eyes wide.

He stopped only long enough to give her a hard look, before he turned and marched out of the cafe.

A few customers turned to look as Peach watched him go. Her heart skipped a beat, an alarmed sting of confusion going through her veins. He disappeared quickly down the street.

She didn't understand. Maybe he was busy and didn't want her to bother him? But if that were the case, he simply could have refused to allow her to draw him, right? Swallowing hard, she looked down at her quick little rendering of the man. His features all together created a soft image, with kind and earnest eyes. But suddenly, all she could see was that icy glare.

The rain picked up outside. Peach slowly put away her book and decided not to explore the city that day after all.

In her morose bewilderment, she could hardly take out her sketchbook over the next couple of days. A few of her classmates noticed and tried to engage her in idle gossip, but she didn't have the heart to pay any real attention.

Her work on the sketch had been solid. When she did take out her book, she would take some time to look at the man, even though the memory of that harsh look twisted the perception of her art.

Where the city had been so colorful and vibrant, it all suddenly seemed so dull and gray.

"Your muse?" her roommate caught her one day going over the lines, and pressed her until she'd explained the situation. "Are you sure he's your muse? Don't you think you might just have a crush on him?"

The suggestion haunted her like his face did in her dreams.

The sun warmed her back when she made her way down the street the next weekend. She caught sight of the cafe, and thought a coffee might do her some good before her excursions for the day. Classes had been long that week anyway; she deserved a little treat.

The bell rang on the door as soon as she walked in. Many people looked up at her on impulse before returning to their own drinks.

Except for him.

In the exact same place she had spotted him before. Those bright blue eyes fixed right on her. Like blue jewels in the sunlight.

Peach froze for a moment before abruptly averting her eyes. Should she leave? This was embarrassing. But an indignance rose up in her chest to fight off the shame. She had just as much of a right to be here as he did. She wasn't going to turn tail just because of some guy.

So she raised her chin, gripped the strap of her bag, and hurried to the complete opposite side of the room as him.

It was only after she had sat down and arranged her books and materials around for her homework that she realized she had forgotten to go to the counter to order herself a coffee.

Well. She had just as much of a right to be here, but she did not currently have the nerve to get back up and show herself and do something crazy like risk making eye contact again. With a deep breath, and heat rising to her cheeks, she got to work scanning over the latest assignment.

The low music playing harmonized with the low hum of conversation in the cafe. Peach tried to make sense of the description of the assignment, but she couldn't quite focus on any of the words.

A cup of coffee and a pastry appeared at her elbow.

Peach looked up. The man, the subject of her thoughts and dread the past week, took a careful step back to a respectful distance. Those pretty eyes focused on her with a hesitant guilt. He had his own coffee cup in his hand.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee," he nodded to the cup on the table, where he had placed cream and sugar beside it. "But I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

Her throat went dry. Swallowing hard, Peach tried to figure out a normal way to sit without fidgeting. "E—excuse me?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I was rude to you last week. I believed you were, ah, trying to make fun of me. With all the things you said to me." He glanced at the floor before looking back at her again. "It was a mistake to assume the worst. You seem very kind. I am sorry for how I behaved to you." he tried to smile.

A new light dawned on Peach's understanding. "Oh. Oh, goodness, not at all!" She set her pencils and books aside. "I wasn't teasing you. I'm so sorry if I came across that way; I must have been distracted..."

The man waved her off. "No, please. It was nothing about you. I think you come across as very sweet, Miss. It was my fault."

Very sweet. He thought she was sweet. Peach tried to ignore the furious heat that rose up to her face. She pursed her lips and nodded her appreciation.

He gestured to the coffee and the pastry he had chosen for her. "Please," he said. "I will leave you now. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Miss—"

"Wait," Peach reached out. "Um, I just want you to know that I genuinely think that you are handsome. You have the prettiest eyes. And uh, I appreciate the apology. If you want, you could have the rest of your coffee with me?"

The man blinked at her when she moved to make a space for him to sit. She could have sworn she saw his cheeks flush with a little color. He didn't say anything.

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Peach. I'm an art student at the University. But you already knew that." she laughed nervously. "Um, what's your name?"

It occurred to her that he was just as flustered as she was. An excited, hopeful spark lit up her chest.

He reached out to shake her hand. "I'm Mario," he said, and moved to sit down.

O~o~O

[queer-reader-07]

idk maybe it's the ace in me, but i really hate how so many people treat "in love" and "falling in love" as phrases that are exclusively designated for romantic love.

because i say CONSTANTLY that i'm in love with my friends. that i fell in love with them. because it encompasses more fully what i mean when i say i love them. i don't just love them, i'm in love with them. i exist in that love daily. i am held together by that love.

and to act like that kind of love, or rather, that way of conveying love is only for romance is so sad to me. because i think if we divorced those phrases from the connotation of romance, a lot more people would be talking about being in love with their best friends. in the most beautifully and deeply platonic way.

i don't know where this is going but tell your friends you love them! platonic love is beautiful and just as fulfilling as romance, don't let anyone downplay it

[kezoire]

no i don't have religious guilt i have rpc guilt

[dementedspeedster]

Send "It's The Little Things" + my muse will tell your muse something that they notice about them.

It can be a habit they notice about your muse, a physical characteristic, a quirk, music they like, how they smell, how they hold themselves, etc.

[aparticularbandit]

Tsumugi-shaming post.

Based on this.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

just wanted to remind everyone that french canadians are technically latin americans.

[musingsofareadhead]

Since you’ve been getting totally undeserved hate, dear @hinataashoyos , let me spread some positivity.

Your writing is beautiful. Nothing feels forced, people see that you write because you want to and because you’re passionate and you love doing it.

Your ideas are all wonderful and so well written, you take us on an adventure that, dare I say, is as magical as the Avatar films themselves. You capture Pandora and the Na’vi like you live amongst them, like you are Eywa herself.

You spread positivity and in doing so, created a blog that became a safe, cozy and warm place for people to come and share their ideas, their love for your writing and just enjoy good stories in the company of others who share the same interests.

You are a beautiful person, inside and out, no matter what some hating people might say. You are creative, beautiful and irreplaceable.

Even if you only write for CoD from now own, or if you come back to Avatar in a week or two years, or that you never write again, know this : we will stay. We will stay and continue chatting and sharing with you our ideas and fanarts and creations, because your blog is a safe haven, Hina. We, I, love you.

We will enjoy your company and/or writing, depending on where you go.

Ayoeng tíyawn nga.

[johnnyutah]

[thiinka]

[memesomething]

characters ft. 'what if i just am who i am in a way i cannot control and it means you do not want me?'

[ashton-ryder]

bold what applies to your muse, italicize situational ones. feel free to add your own suggestions and carry it on.

tagged by: stolen from zach

tagging: steal it from zach

VOICE HC / MEME

► ACCENT  

“country” │ “backwoods” │ “sailor” │ “upper class” │ "small town" │ “city slicker” | foreign speaker │ refined  

► ELOQUENCE

educated │self-taught | uneducated | doesn’t use conjunctions │ shortens words | omits entire words on occasion | mixes up words │ just makes up their own words! │ archaic english │ dependent on mood or setting | doesn’t use contractions

► TONE

loud │ soft │ room volume │ high pitched │ low pitched │ steady | seductive │velvety │ speech impediment │ abrasive │ gruff │ shrill │ booming │ matter-of-fact │ toneless │ husky │ intimidating │gravelly │ breathy │ nasal │ vocal fry │ chatty │ condescending │ musical │ sarcastic │ suave │ world-weary │ brash │ no nonsense │ authoritative

► HABITS  

refers to self in third person│ incorporates different languages/terms/sayings │ uses gender-specific terms │ adapts to audience │ changes tone around animals or children │ shifts tone when lying │ gives others nicknames │ uses terms of respect towards others

► OTHER BITS

He lives in a softer vocal range, measured, steady and unassuming voice, making subtle sarcastic jokes and seemed like a quiet man until situation calls for it.

Such as when he's teaching a class or training recruits or on a mission or working, his voice can boom across a room and when he speaks like that, people listen.

He's been trying to wane off the habit more over the few years, but sometimes he still slips into the habit of using military terms, calling the hours by the hundreds, and only really catches himself when someone looks at him funny.

He's a very quiet laugher, a chuckle here, a scoff there, but if you're lucky to either have known him when he was younger or heard him with his guard down, he has a very charming, melodic laughter if it ever slips out with the brightest smiles, it's much rarer as he grew older, but it used to be known as the thing that draws people in.

He actually likes shortening names or using family names as nicknames a lot, a habit picked up from the marines, he responds to Ryder as quickly as he responds to Ashton or Ash.

He's a little bit tone death, please don't ask him to sing or hum, it won't be pretty. He unfortunately did not inherit his mom's lovely singing voice, perhaps just a powerful booming voice for other things, like yelling at recruits.

The way he talks about the stars and the sky and space, there is a special endearing tone it his words, soft, humbling, full of wander and curiosity, the reminder of their insignificance on a tiny rock in space.

He becomes especially quiet when he drinks, similar to every time he goes quiet, a lot is running through his head. But when he drinks, it numbs everything out, as if finally enjoying the numbing silence while he still could, before reality comes rushing back at him.

► VOICE CLAIM REFERENCE:

tw: video reference below contains mentions of abuse (and also tw for my heart for luke mitchell crying)

[kourota]

the creative process at 3:29 am