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Useless

1: Jane stopped wearing perfume in undergrad. Now she uses lavender scented products, but no perfume.

2: Jane has accidentally killed a few potted plants. She’s not nearly as vigilent with watering them as she is with other things. 

3: Even though her house is full of cats now, Jane always considered herself a dog person. She’s still better with dogs than cats. This may be why Roomba prefers Victor’s attention. 

4: Jane had a little stuffed fox that she carried around as a child. Her dad has it in a box with her other baby things now. 

5: Jane really loved the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe books as a child, and enjoyed the movies as an adult. She’s still a little disappointed that they weren’t able to finish all of the movies in the series. 

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MULTIMUSE ASK GAME | @walkingshcdow (thank you dear!!)

1. if you have a ‘main muse’, who besides them do you think could be your main muse?

So Andrei is my “main muse” if any of them are. We know this. I’d say… idk, I could probably write Jack Kelly as a main muse pretty well. Or Marya Bolkonskaya. Maybe Raoul de Chagny.

2. is there a muse you write a lot that you’re tired of writing?

Not really? I don’t really think I write quickly enough to categorize any of my muses as ones I write “a lot.” Guess that’s the silver lining to that cloud!

3. is there a muse you never write, but want to write more?

answered here! <3

4. how many muses did you have when you started your blog? how many do you have now?

Ah, jeez, I’m not sure? I want to say… five. I think the original lineup was Ophelia and Laertes from Hamlet (don’t write them anymore as the muse fizzled out, sadly), Maladh (a Narnia oc that got moved to my Narnia blog), Luke Skywalker (don’t write him anymore either), and Raoul de Chagny. Who’s still here! Yay for Raoul. 

Now I have… sixteen on this blog. It happens.

5. what are your criteria for adding new muses?

There has to be something about their personality that grabs me. Usually it’s something that resonates within myself – there’s a lot about myself that I can pick out among my muses. I’d say I also have to love the source material. Even if it’s an engaging character, I feel like if the source material feels weak, I probably won’t pick them up. 

6. what’s the max amount of muses you’re willing to have at one time?

I feel like this is the sort of question that comes back to bite you later. Idk… I feel like if I had more than 20 on this blog it might start to feel a little unwieldy. Probably the max amount for me to be totally comfortable is around 10-12.

7. have you ever dropped muses from your blog? if so, were there any you dropped but brought back later?

Yep! I totally have. I don’t think I’ve brought any of them back that I can recall. I’m down to bring some of them back if I ever get the drive to do so! 

8. do you have a muse who is a terrible person, but very fun to write?

I mean… Andrei can be an asshole sometimes, but I really love him. I guess I also try to make sure that Crowley (in the rare times I write Crowley) isn’t defanged, which is actually kinda hard. He walks a thin line that’s hard to balance somehow. Note that I wouldn’t say that either of them are terrible people. I tend to kinda steer clear from that; idk, I just don’t have as much fun.

9. which of your muses do you find the most difficult to get down correctly?

answered here :D 

10. how upset do you get when someone doesn’t specify muse?

I find it pretty frustrating. Like… it takes about a second and it’s pretty likely that people already have a short list in their head. If we know each other SUPER well and were just talking about whatever idea I’m writing, then okay, but even then I’d still rather they specified, just to say. 

The thing is, if someone doesn’t specify muse, I have sixteen muses that can vary pretty wildly from each other. So if someone doesn’t specify and I write something they don’t vibe with, then we’re all :/ . And it makes it easier to write something if I know what muse they want.

Even specifying a fandom works for me, though! Like if someone was like “I have this character of mine, would you write me something from one of your War & Peace muses?” etc, that would work for me.

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@walkingshcdow

It was terrible day. It was a terrible day in the sense that the sun was bright and shining as fall cooler weather hinted in the air. It was a terrible day in the sense that life went on per usual and she was on the verge of ruining her manicure as fingernails dug into the underneath of her desk. It was a terrible day in a series of bad days as she watched her family passed down company crumbling around her and she was left to scrape together the pieces to keep it afloat. Rumors about the possibility of selling began to float about and it took every ounce of time management skills she had to balance that and the company itself.

She had it under control or so she thought. At least until the board of trustees informed her about a potential investor though the look in their eyes said another word entirely. Buyer.  IN order to save face she had little other choice than to meet with the man who had plans for her company.

Granted, there was a bit of respect for the man that would be traipsing down the halls of Amin PharmaTech. Michael Finnegan came from a long family and inherited his father’s company much like she did. His company soared and hers right along side till some unauthorized choices and criminal staffing left her company on the near verge of bankruptcy. Not that tit was public knowledge, at least that she knew of, though with the way things had been falling apart she wouldn’t be surprised if that rumor slipped out too. Arms folded across her chest as she removed herself from her desk and moved to stand by the floor to ceiling windows to try and soothe her nerves.

Its an investment meeting, I’m not selling.  she told herself as she listened to the door open before shifting to look at the figure entering the office. “Mr. Finnegan, I’m so glad to finally meet you. ”

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Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have
@walkingshcdow

  1. in her lifetime cass has probably eaten about two pounds of dirt. one for fun as a kid and the second for work. 
  2. she has a secret garden hidden in piffling and she tells no one where it is because its a secret. its ALL OF PIFFLING TBH she planted little plants throughout piffling in everyone’s yards and businesses. 
  3. she still has a stuffed rabbit she keeps on her bed and its filthy af from her dragging it with her everywhere, but especially in the woods.
  4. cass has a lot of empathy for the alleged piffling witch of the incredibly dense woods because clearly that woman wants to be left alone and people just keep talking about her and venturing into the woods. 
  5. BONUS: little cass has left little presents at the edge of the wood for the piffling witch. these gifts may have always disappeared within an hour.
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A Basket of Kisses 
42: Forceful Kiss

She started by texting him. It wasn’t unusual for Victor to miss a meal or two when he was working, but Jane did her best to make sure that he ate  something. It was more difficult when he was more focused. Jane was pation however. A couple missed texts wouldn’t stop her. A while later she tried again, but the screen was unchanged. So Jane switched strategies. She had hoped that the smell of food might draw him out of the lab on it’s own, but even after flooding their house with delicious smells, Victor was no where to be scene. Clearly drastic measures must be taken. 

Jane made as much noise as she could as she made her way down into the lab. It didn’t seem to make much difference. Victor was studiously bent over his work table, working hard, blocking out the rest of the world. “Victor?” She hoped the sudden voice didn’t scare him. At least it would be something. “Victor?” Jane got all the way to his table without a single outward sign that he’d heard or scene her. “I made dinner.” She tapped his shoulder, but only got a noncommital hum. Jane could feel her eyes rolling, even if Victor couldn’t see it. It he was going to be this stubborn, she was going to have to be more creative. It was hard to get any kind of angle on him sitting the way he was, so Jane settled for the loudest, most obnoxious kiss she could, planted forcefully at the edge of his mouth, followed by an echoing pop as she pulled away. 

The surprise alone was worth every second. 

“C’mon up. In your own time.” 

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A Basket of Kisses
16: rain kiss

“Rudyard Funn you absolute marvel!” Jane’s voice creaked with excitement and pure wonder. “Look! You did that!” Elation made it easier than normal to pop up on her tiptoes and kiss him soundly, if chastely. It was all adrenaline and excitement

They’d been fiddling with his powers so long, trying to find his limits, with less success than either of them had hoped. There were days where even Jane wondered what Rudyard’s powers could even be. The cool drops on her skin were irrefutible proof of what he had accomplished. Progress

“I should treat you to something.” Jane mused, taking his hand. “ Anything!  Or at least get you out of this rain. What would you like Rudyard?” 

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Oh, that sounds amazing; I love the idea of a specific soundtrack to trick or treat giving!  You should read The Perilous Gard, a dark take on the myths of the fair folk, less overtly supernatural than Labyrinth but also with the theme of children and adults being abducted by the fay and a heroine who has to rescue them!

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@walkingshcdow

The mouse sat on the bookshelf already dressed in the carefully sewn costume constructed by none other than their own Georgie Crusoe. Her whiskers lowered ever so slightly as squeaks sounded in response to hearing her friend adamantly reject the idea of being in a costume contest. She knew it was a bit of a long shot, but she thought that perhaps it might be a little fun and she was sure that Eric Chapman wouldn’t be in the contest either.

A part of her hoped that they could win the night since couples costumes didn’t always pan out very well with other piffling residents. The only real threat to winning would be if Dr. Edgeware dressed as a pirate and brought Esther along, but the last time she talked to the lovely bird she had heard unease about their relationship. As well as a few other repetitive things that Esther always said. She was a parrot after all.

*squeak squeak* ( Georgie already went through the trouble to make us costumes.) 

She rubbed her front paws at her whiskers then sat down again on her bottom as she squeaked at Rudyard again. * squeak squeak! * ( Just this once Rudyard? )

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@walkingshcdow

Rudyard Funn runs a funeral home in Piffling Vale. It used to be the only one. It isn’t anymore. This morning was much like some mornings and yet some how different than others. The birds still sang outside, the bright sun shone and Eric Chapman had managed to ruin yet another morning in the Funn establishment. I watched as Rudyard paced  up and down the length of the kitchen while I nibbled at a bit of toast crumbs wondering if Rudyard would finish his slice or not. I wasn’t terribly hungry, but if history was any reference then today would be quite the busy one thanks to Eric Chapman and I wanted to be ready for whatever may happen.

 *Squeak, squeak* (Why don’t you sit down and finish your breakfast before your hot water and toast get cold?)

Perhaps settling him down might ease the situation, though I doubted it would help once Rudyard was riled. At least with the possibility of a busy day it would give me something new to write about for my memoirs. I still haven’t received my last draft that I sent off to my editors, but then again they were moles and tended to work in the dark which led to longer wait times.

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“Would you believe that I have?” It’s pure instinct that makes him grab the back of two shirts as they pass him, holding onto them firmly even if he looks like he’s about to fall over. To say that he had already had the discussion was an understatement. They had the discussion about what was not edible more and more often these days. They hoped it was because the children were imaginative and sometimes James was still at an age to be confused- the Funns, after all, seemed to live on that cusp of reality, and the stories about Antigone as the Piffling Witch didn’t help. James insisted that Antigone made potions. Everyone else insisted he was going to poison himself. “I’ll try again though. Couldn’t we just…” he stopped himself but the words were so tempting- couldn’t they just get her a very strong lock? Or a child latch?

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“Are you sure I can’t go to the hospital instead?”

It wasnt that he didn’t love the twins, or course, or his children. It want even that he didn’t want to spend Christmas with them. It had more to do with the fighting and the burned boiled duck and the pranks and the inevitable Chapman problem and the loneliness for his own family on the mainland and the other nonsense that he didn’t know how to deal with even now. Doing it with Henry had sounded like a miracle- at least there would be two of them against the madness.

“We’ll probably all end up there anyways. I just hope we also don’t need the Reverend to bring his bucket of sand again.”

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“You’re a born party planner.” It was just a shame that neither of them was really born a partier. That is, that neither of them particularly enjoyed the parties that they were expected to throw. Maybe it would have been better if more of them were functional- less hedonism and more charitable causes- but the way it was, often Victor couldn’t remember the beginning of the evenings and Rudyard ended up avoiding them. Still, they plastered on genial faces and tied on too-tight ties and readies themselves for the next event they’d have to host and not attend but duck out early.

Thank goodness for the dullest dinner party in existence.

“If funerals had more live guests of honor, you would have been the talk of Europe for your events.” Victor came up behind his husband and kissed his neck, still wearing the old sweater and slacks that he’d spent his day off in, reading and trying to convince Rudyard to come back to bed. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to ask my assistant to call everyone and say we’re ill? We can cancel every once in a while. I don’t think anyone would mind. We can just… spend the evening together. Do what you want to do. Maybe we can go to Piffling for the week. Say it’s an emergency.” He kissed him again. “I love you.”

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Send a ❦ if you’d consider shipping our muses. | Accepting

{ I’d love to hear your other opinions! Hit me up on discord any time ♥ Even if I’m not on or don’t answer right away, I definitely will answer :D }

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@walkingshcdow

continued.

The race to the hospital, blurry in the fading light of day, couldn’t have gone fast enough for Finnegan. He and his driver had argued and Finnegan only allowed him to drive so he could craft the perfect “I told you so” for when he saw Victor. Finnegan had always known that the exhaustion would catch up to Victor sooner or later.

“It’s called ‘self care, darling’,” he’d purred numerous times. “I’d like to see you take care of the man I love before it’s too late.”

All “I told you so” plans fled Finnegan’s mind when, after filling out paperwork in the waiting room, he was allowed back to see his husband. In the hospital bed, Victor looked so frail and small and Finnegan gripped the doorframe, watching the rise and fall of Victor’s chest. When had he gotten so thin? The doctors said they were running some tests and assured Finnegan most of them were routine. He hated that word. “Most”. Some of them, then, were not “routine”. Something was wrong with Victor. Finnegan spent his day around doctors and medical researchers. He knew the coded speech they used around patients and their loved ones. Finnegan sucked in a deep breath for courage and crossed the room. Victor slept for the first time Finnegan could remember this week, so Finnegan did not disturb him. Quietly, he sat on the uncomfortable sofa beside Victor’s bed. Victor was the religious one. If it were Finnegan in the bed, he might be praying. Finnegan wasn’t that sort. Instead, he took out his phone and sent a single text to his secretary.

Cancel my appointments and set up an automated email. Something has come up.

There wasn’t a good way to do this.

They’d come and gone quietly, swiftly, taking extra vials of blood or double checking symptom charts, asking questions and taking notes. Even with rushes put on testing it took a long time, that it all felt wrong. Troubling. They all knew who the man was on their couch- it was hard not to know the future earl of mar when one worked in the medical profession, but meeting him this way was… less than ideal would have been an understatement. The pressure to find answers was high, the pressure to do it quickly and find something positive was higher.

It was hard not to wish someone else had been on today.

“Take him downstairs and get images of his chest. And the brain, while you’re at it.” The doctor whispered, setting the stethoscope back after going over things again, listening to lungs again that sounded just a bit wrong. “Call me as soon as you’ve got them.”

Or don’t.

As soon as the scans came back the problem was obvious, obvious enough to send someone else to do a biopsy on the sedated man while the doctor tried to think of the best way to break the news. 

If only it got easier.

“He’s yours then?” It was a clumsy introduction, offered with outstretched hand and a nod at the bed, scans tucked under one arm in an attempt to be something like casual. “He’s a handful I take it. We had to sedate him when he came in. The paramedics told me they had to strap him down- he wouldn’t stop insisting he was fine and trying to get out of the ambulance in one breath, and asking what was going on in the second. About the time he got to latin verbs and insisting we call his husband ‘but not until after his meeting’ he finally fell asleep.” You’ve made him look silly. Was that the goal? “You are the husband, I assume. Can we get you anything?”

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meet meme / accepting

Muse A looked upset, so Muse B tried to be nice and buy Muse A flowers / coffee / candy. @walkingshcdow

This wasn’t usually his thing.

Okay, that was totally a lie. It was definitely his thing. He had always been empathetic, always able to tune into others and their feelings. Caius told him that he got it from their mother, although Nicolas believed that it started not long after her death. Evelyn was a newborn and their father had checked out. He had felt responsible for her. 

So when he noticed that someone was down and upset, he usually had to fight his instinct to help. He had to remind himself that people had boundaries and he needed to respect them. Most of the time, though, he failed, especially with the people he cared about. 

Which was why he was on his way to his brother’s place. Caius had told him that Gina was having a rough time ( her mom was really sick and the boys were being more than a handful ), so Nicolas was bringing over some baked goods from Evie. It was a nice day for a walk and he took a detour through the park. Maybe he’d take the boys and give Gina a break for a few hours. He could easily run them ragged at the park.

He noticed someone who was sitting on a bench and he thought they looked like they could use a pick-me-up. He was going to keep walking — boundaries and all that — but he stopped a few feet away. You know what? He could use the pick-me-up too. He turned and walked back to the bench, opening the box of cookies and holding it out.

“You look like you could use a cookie or two. Or three. I won’t judge.”

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“Um.” Jane let her door swing open a little wider. The woman looked like some kind of ghost, but she seemed friendly enough. She certainly sounded more friendly than some other guests she’d had. “Why don’t you come in?” 

Jane waved the woman into the lighthouse, and led her toward the table. “Your brother wouldn’t happen to be Rudyard Funn, would he?” She set down a teacup and reached for the kettle. “I Think he wrote to the newspaper about us.”

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Doctor Beckam.” Jane corrected sternly. “And I would say they are welcome to come and talk to me about their concerns, rather than whine to any reporter.” Perhaps an overreaction for an island as small as Piffling, but Jane was not about to change her attitude toward rumors simply because she was no longer in New York City. Better to have the reputation of the Bitch on the Hill than suffer the endless assumptions of a small town. 

“I would think we’re an important addition to Piffling Vale. Aren’t you happy to have another capable doctor on the island?”

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ok so disclaimer that i still have like 3 eps of the show left. THAT SAID here is what i would change

1) NO beverly katz death. it’s so pointless. she had so much potential. resurrect her

2) will and hannibal should sleep together. but it should be like. WEIRD/artsy (which is just “hannibal”s thing as a show, so. makes sense). like maybe there’s a lot of shots of a deer running interspersed with it or something

3) it seems like in s3 they tried to change will’s style/wardrobe? like he stops wearing plaid and glasses as much. not a fan. he looks too polished, idk!!! like it feels like they’re like “oh he has to be THIS kind of pretty.” stop it. we loved him (or, like, many of us) as he was in s1

4) i feel like the “alana is hannibal’s jailor” thing isn’t that interesting. i’m not sure what else would be a neat angle for her, but, like. i feel like something else could’ve been done. or something more? hmm.. i just think hannibal had as huge an impact on her life as on will’s. maybe she could’ve gone w/ will to europe or smth in the first part of the  season

5) also maybe building up the will/jack/alana triumvirate back in s1? ik they were never best buds but i think if they were, it might make their distancing in s2 and s3 sadder. like, jack is just will’s boss, right, in s1? there’s no emotional connection. it’s awful to be used by someone, period, but i think that kind of betrayal will feels when jack brings him into these investigations would be bigger if they were friends first. alana and will kinda seemed to have a connection at first but i forget if they mentioned them haviing a backstory

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@walkingshcdow​ asked   :    15, 38   -   HONESTY MEME (accepting!)

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15.  HOW HAS RP CHANGED YOU PERSONALLY?

I want to say it’s made me better at starting conversations, but that’s really up to other people to determine : ‘ ) I try though, so I guess we can count the effort! 

38.  WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO SOMEONE NEW TO RP?

Ultimately you’re here to have fun, so don’t worry too much!! Take care of yourself / your mental state and step back when you get tunnel vision to drink some tea and take a nap.

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