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@crosseddestiny
» indie highly selective, and private multi-muse rp blog feat. canon and oc muses from midnight texas, the last of us, fandomless, and stranger things.
» established august 2019. formerly downpaths. archived and moved blogs in april 2023.
» rules. muses. memes.
hey, and welcome to my blog! this will be run at very low activity. all muses are loved and written by socks (she / her, or they / them).
muse list under cut:
Small PSA
If you’re feeling bad about the way you write your muse, stop.
No one writes your muse the way you do. You bring your own unique qualities to the character.
You bring them to life in a way only you are able to.
Every portrayal is different, and yours is perfectly you.
Stop giving yourself a hard time.
He didn't blame her for being confused, it didn't make perfect sense to him either. And Oujia boards certainly weren't a thing they'd ever talked about before. ❝ Well, no, but they sort'a look like board games. ❞ He hummed his approval softly, pulling his right hand out of its corresponding pocket with one of his fidget toys clutched in its grasp. ❝ — That's good. You don't need to be tryin' to talk with the Dead anyway. ❞
He nodded again, smiling softly this time. ❝ You were tiny, ❞ he agreed, able to look back on it fondly now. ❝ I don't think it'd be such a good idea now, no. ❞ And that had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact she had grown, he just didn't want to see her in one again. ( Not before it was, inevitably, time.. ) ❝ — Makin' sure you're alright isn't a waste of time, Kay. Not in the slightest. ❞
He fell silent then, lowering his gaze to his hands as he began to play with the fidget toy he'd pulled from his pocket, thinking. He'd love to be able to tell her that they had been using the Ouija board properly. But given everything he'd seen and heard before they'd scurried out of the Parlour.. that would be a lie, and he wasn't capable of lying - no matter how much he wished that wasn't the case.
❝ — I don't think so, ❞ he sighed a few minutes later. ❝ I just hope they didn't summon anything bad while they were foolin' around. ❞
“Don’t think I know many dead people worth talking to again anyway.” At least when it came to those who’d harmed her at the lab, otherwise… Were her parents dead? Would they even be worth it if they were? She wasn’t really sure. Kay hummed thoughtfully, pondering over the idea of how a coffin would feel, other then, as she said, cramped. “Might work if you put lots more pillows in it, made it a bit bigger, but then I guess it wouldn’t really be a coffin, it’d be just like a regular bed with a lid.” But if in death there was some way for you to still be connected with your body, wouldn’t you want the comfort? Another question she wasn’t sure about. She glanced up from the floor to him, her features softening at his next words, “No, you’re right, and I’ve always appreciated that you’ve done that for me, I just… you know, it’s time consuming and – yeah.” There wasn’t much more to say then that, she knew he wouldn’t stop checking even if she protested.
The silence hung in the air between them gave way to her suspicions on the subject, and she felt a nervousness grow inside her. The board, that wasn’t really a game, had likely been used poorly, and if she had anything to guess by the way he’d told her not to use it, she figured they’d have been better off too. His words of confirmation made her cringe, eyes darting to the spinner in his hand for a second before back up to him. “Is that bad if they… if they did summon something? Especially where you work. Could that be dangerous?” There was no way she’d let him go back without getting it fixed first, not a chance.
ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ:
i'm over 5'5 / 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 / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child
tagged by. this has been in my drafts so long i don't remember who tagged me. tagging. steal it if you want!
❝ — They're made for talkin' with spirits, which isn't a bad thing, in and of itself.. ❞ he paused, turning away from the cabinet because the cup he was looking for wasn't where it was supposed to be. ❝ But bad things happen when they're used wrong - and even when they're used correctly. — So don't you ever go playin' with one, okay? It's just not good. ❞
A slight frown graced his lips, and he stepped back to lean against the counter, sliding his hands into his pockets. — He couldn't help where he passed out, and she knew it.. at least caskets were a safer place to end up than in the middle of the road, which was another place he found himself waking up in with an alarming frequency. ❝ I don't. It.. feels like bein' trapped. ❞ He shrugged then. ❝ — I sure do, and that's why I still check every single one of 'em when I go in, and again before I leave. Mnm, probably so. ❞
“That sounds… really confusing,” Kay responded slowly, barely able to keep up with the explanation. “And when you say playing, is this some sort of… toy? Regardless, what I’m getting from this is that I will never touch one in my life.” Ouija board, bad, got it. Sometimes it felt like that list was never going to stop growing.
She couldn’t help grimacing, imagining what it was like to feel that way inside a casket now. “Well, last time I was in, I managed to curl up, but I was also really little, so I guess it’s been a while since then… Guess it would be a little – what’s the word? Cramped.” Another grimace, this time followed by a wince as she imagined him wasting all that time checking each and every coffin. “Sorry. At least I’m smart enough not do it now, but I guess that wont stop you from checking though, huh?” Suddenly she straightened where she stood, face paling slightly as her mind circled back to something he’d said earlier. “Hold on a second, that… weejaw thing you just mentioned that those kids were playing with, did they… did they manage to use it… right?”
MISCELLANEOUS PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from various sources, adjust as necessary
nice to see you back from canada!
i find you really distracting.
i'm ready for the party!
i'm just a man... doing things.
come on in. we've got so much to get through.
would you believe i'm single?
i think i'll be pretty good at this.
it's funny when things are too long.
it wasn't a good day.
i was told i need to talk faster.
is that what we're doing here today?
that sounds dangerous.
i'm pulling that out of context.
what do you sing to them?
in the event of an accident, please load your revolver.
if the door doesn't open, shoot it open.
what else can you make disappear?
i hate to say it, but i'm impressed.
how about putting your phone number on there?
it's a total mystery, everybody!
you don't have to explain how it works.
this is probably more complicated than it needs to be.
oh fuck. you're fucking kidding me. really?
i guess i've kinda taken the reins.
that was the exact opposite of a nice, clean segue.
was that clean enough?
we ruined it by flailing.
motherfucker bit my finger!
that was awkward.
it's not always about you.
you didn't spin the wheel, bitch.
i'm having a brain aneurysm right now, okay?
you were just there in the room.
this is all a lie. this is a sham.
there's nothing sexier to a woman than being approached by a magician.
this is how everyone dressed back in the day.
everyone on the planet knows.
the only ones who got fucked was us.
hurry up! i've got a nap to take!
this man has my posture. he needs all the help he can get.
now we get it.
no bullets in here? check.
i have got to see dancing with the stars!
there is no success without hate.
where the fuck do we start?
they're gonna replace us.
is that for me? thank you!
you forced my hand.
do you have this in an email or written form?
that's a fantastic question.
why me? why would you want me to know this?
he's imagining taking over the world.
don't go under there.
look. you gotta talk faster. more energy.
this... is a disaster.
i don't want to know what he's thinking about.
i've got an idea.
guess that was always going to happen.
why aren't you doing it with us?
i don't know how you've been friends with them for so long.
tea isn’t just a drink it’s a handwarmer it’s an experience it’s a love language it’s a friend it’s
❝ Always have, ❞ he confirmed, letting his gaze wander from the younger man to settle briefly on the beer that now sat between them. ❝ — To me, there's not much sense in pourin' my heart and soul into somethin' I don't.. or can't love, completely, for whatever reason. ❞
He fell silent for a few moments, reaching forward to pluck the beer from the table and crack it open with a nod of gratitude. ❝ I've never been a parent, but I figure.. creatin' anythin' is like bringin' a child into the world. It's a labour of love, somethin' you've gotta be completely committed to every step of the way. And if you're not, well.. why bother?? ❞ He brought the rim of the can's mouth to his lips, tipped it back, and took a long drink from it.
❝ All but 'bout.. ten of the books I've written have made it to that level - many of 'em well before Game of Thrones did. That bein' said, I'm lucky; my publishers don't push me for nothin'. They don't have to, 'cause they generally can't keep up with me. I don't have trouble writin', 'cause I don't make it a job for myself. ❞
“Ah well, sometimes you just cant help what you end up creatin’ in this world, whether you like it or not, sometimes it’s a matter of it being out of your control.” Hazel eyes travelled to the ceiling of the RV and he sent a silent prayer to his grandma Zelda and her bloodline. Nowadays was a little different, now that he was settled, now that he’d stopped running and made a home for himself, and found a family too, things were relatively better. His job on the other hand? It wasn’t something he quite enjoyed, sometimes he wished he could find pleasure in what he did, or even the slightest bit of joy, but it was rare. “Suppose though, for others like yourself, that’s the case, you can carve out somethin’ in this world you like doing.” Hearing the crunch of boots on the dusty road outside, he peered out the window, noting Bobo was making his way across the street from Home Cookin’ toward the pawnshop. Probably checking in to see if Lem and Olivia were up for the night. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed in the dying evening light, and he offered the tiniest of waves to Mr. Snuggly who sat still as a statue in a potted plant nearby, and only responded with a flick of his tail.
Attention turned back to the man opposite him and he cringed a little. Shit. It goes to show the rock he was living under, here he was sitting across from – what he guessed – was a world renowned author and he knew little to nothing about him. Not that he knew anything about Game of Thrones either, only that Creek had once been obsessed with it and talked his ear off regarding the books and series. Brows lifted slightly, unable to hide the surprise of status the other man had in his books, he bit down on his lower lip and glanced toward the beer can in his hand. “Less it was harlequin novels – usually ones Zelda picked up at the gas station – I wasn’t much of a reader, sorry.” You weren’t much of a reader when I was tryin’ get you to read the damn texts, Manny. Let alone reading one of my romance novels! Her voice rang crisp in his ears, followed by her chuckle, almost like she was right there chiding him playfully. Manfred’s gaze drifted wistfully over Shannon’s shoulder, half expecting to see her ghostly figure there, but the RV was empty as usual.
“You are lucky,” he murmured softly, looking back to the man seated across from him. “Some people have deadlines, and struggle to make those. I’d give anything for my job to come as naturally as it does to you…” Oh, his did come naturally, at a one on one basis, but answering e-mails online? Near impossible. “If it’s that easy, then what gets the juices flowing?”
first of all, how old am i... second, klaus and manfred are childishly giggling in my head @theseancekid (i know you're not on his blog right now but maybe one day you'll see this... also totally putting it in their ship tag because yes).
I don’t have paranormal experiences, I AM a paranormal experience.
❝ See, that's the thing. Everybody always wanna know 'bout how to write the next Gone With the Wind. Everybody always wanna know 'bout how to get famous quick.. Nobody wants to just write for the joy of it anymore. — When you look at the possibility of a book as nothin' more than a cash grab, you automatically make it a job. You've gone and set yourself up for burn-out, Writer's block and disappointment before you've even started the damn thing. ❞
Open
Manfred placed the beer on the table between them before plunking himself down and popping the tab on his own. Maybe asking what the secret was to writing the next big seller was the wrong thing to inquire, he certainly hadn’t expected the man to get deep and serious. Touchy subject, clearly, but so was his own work he supposed.
“Guessin’ that’s not how you work, then? You just write for the pure joy of it? Does it not make it hard when a piece becomes popular – say, Game of Thrones level of popularity or whatever else is the in thing, - then you’re risking gettin’ stuck in a rut when the publisher is pushing you to have something out?”
first meeting sentence starters.
send one to have our muses meet for the first time.
“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”
“I think you dropped this.”
“You look lost. Need some help?”
“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”
“You’re sitting in my spot.”
“Whoa! Careful!”
“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”
“Is that seat taken?”
“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”
“You’re blocking the doorway.”
“Were you just staring at me?”
“Excuse me, do you know the time?”
“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”
“I’ve been sent to find you.”
“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”
“Do you work here?”
“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”
“You’ve got something on your face.”
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Do you know the way to ___?”
“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”
“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”
“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”
“You look like you could use a friend.”
“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”
“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”
“I think we’re stuck in here together.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”
“Are you the new neighbor?”
“First time in town?”
“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“I think you’re in the wrong place.”
“You seem… out of place.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”
“That was a close call.”
“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”
“Mind if I walk with you?”
“You look like you’re in trouble.”
“Was that your doing back there?”
“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”
“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”
“Do I want to know what just happened?”
“You might want to keep your voice down.”
“Is it always this strange around here?”
“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”
“Looks like we’re in this together now.”
aesthetic word
dormiveglia
in italian, dormiveglia means half asleep; it's that short period of time right before waking up. if you got this result, i feel like perhaps you're not too keen on belonging here. is there a world you've created all by yourself, where you're happier? you're a professional daydreamer, head full of fairytales and gaze deeper than the ocean. you're probably into reading, into finding anything that would help your mind escape. you remind me so much of a cat sleeping on a windowsill, undisturbed. i hope you find your place in this world, too.
tagged by stolen from : no one
tagging : anybody that would like to do it!
mr. snuggly (fiji's cat familiar) in the books sitting like a statue in a flower pot, and manfred walking by like: 🤨😒
