#just some musings as i write

[cutekittenlady]

Random headcanon

Lady Sneasler thinks of Ingo within the context of being a weakling. Like "i could snap him half with no effort" type of weakling.

There's still a very healthy respect there for his knowledge and the training he provides, but shes under no illusions about who'd walk out of a one on one scrap between Ingo and another pokemon.

[revelisms]

Crime dad on his nightly stroll 🦇

[antique-lamplight]

is there a name for media that does this. please i think about it so much

[harbingersecho]

misrecognition is not ignorance

[expectiations]

Is it just me or does the phrase "dumb Darillium River" make your ears ring too?

That phrase hurts me like crazy because it takes away how the post-Manhattan events affected her so deeply. And now that we have the added knowledge that she gets to see her parents in New York even after Manhattan, THORS now presents itself in a different light.

River's resounding "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" cements the implication that she and the Doctor had a huge row after Manhattan. What would you feel if the love of your life told you he "does not and has never loved" you? Certainly not happy.

Do you know what grief does to one's mind? No matter how brilliant you are, grief changes you. Grief makes you a different person. I would know, having experienced it myself. And River, in her grief, jumped into a headspace that shut out (or tried hard to) the Doctor.

Yes, she should have recognized it was him she had unknowingly dragged along on her space Robin Hood quest, but for her, it isn't him. It wouldn't be. Because that was the last thing she had heard him say.

Grief and pain clouding her mind, she proudly asserts that no, the Doctor isn't there. He won't show up for her. He has never loved her. But of course, she loves him. She's never denied that. But he proves her wrong soon afterwards. Because she is the Woman The Doctor Loves.

So, yes, on the surface level, "dumb Darillium River" seems to be what THORS had made River to be. But no, it wasn't. It isn't. It was about a grieving River and a chance for the Doctor to right his wrong. (And yes, we were robbed of that kiss. Homie here quite clearly wanted one.)

originally posted over on twitter.

[fxckin-blackbeard]

A Wild Night

|| @pyramultimuse - Modern!Killian Jones ||

ᒥ🎸ᒧ—         It had been plastered all over the news all morning. Edward Teach of Blackbeard's Crew and former bandmate Jack Rackham arrested at a bar in Dublin. The picture for the story was Edward's mug shot, where in spite of his glazed, dilated eyes he had a smug grin as though it was just any other picture.

A night in the drunk tank and Izzy posted bail for Ed, and only Ed. And now? He stands outside Killian's door about midday. His hair was a mess, he was sporting some sunglasses for his killer headache, and in his hands was a tray of coffees. One was for himself and he was sipping on it already, the other was for his partner. A preemptive peace offering, surely.

The night before Edward had mentioned he was meeting up with an old friend who was in Dublin, unfortunately that friend was the degenerate loser Jack Rackham. Known for his disastrous fall from grace in the rock world due to a serious drug addiction. Edward still cared for the guy, but Jack did not care what trouble he brought the Blackbeard's Crew rockstar in return.

Edward knocks on the door and shifts his weight onto his right leg, his left was killing him like his hangover. Disheveled, that was the perfect word to describe Edward's appearance. He was even still in the clothes he had on the night prior, they were visibly dirty and wrinkled, but it looked like he tried, very poorly, to fix them up.

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[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

[milfygerard]

do Not even worry about it

[rogdona]

[iinvu]

                         n e ways . . . i would love more love for my female muses

[honey-bell-aint-well]

I just realized how hard it would be to recognize AI art of Ford because. he already has six fingers

[truethes]

quick question of sorts ... do people accept sort of one liner action based asks?

[limitlesspossibilities]

//I am. Debating moving a couple Pokemon muses to this blog

[tightropc]

lms for a starter based on something from your wishlist <3

[unladielike]

...So since reblogging asks hasn't really helped in instigating more interactions on my blog (because I guess people don't really enjoy continuing asks into threads anymore?), I'll be posting a brand new starter call! Anyways, you know the drill. Like this post for a starter and if you're a multimuse, please specify a muse. Oh, and alternatively, if there's a verse you specifically want to request from Vivian, do specify that too; otherwise, I will default to using a more modern, slice of life setting.