#froiidure

You are grounded

has your blood been replaced with coffee yet

{ Maybe he’s not inherently evil, but is evil in the sense that he doesn’t care about defenseless people getting hurt? But that’s really similar to canon, so maybe something like being so arbitrary that he just feels like doing evil? lol idk }

Since memories triggered by scent are the strongest…Send my muse a scent and see how they’ll react to it.

It is his nature. Blood wells a hunger deep inside of him to feed, to hunt, to kill. He is like a moth to a flame. Blood makes of all his senses sharped, his scent strong, his taste deeper. 

Get inside the Mun's head: Uncertainty Edition10. One bad part of writing in general?

Forcing myself to get motivated and not be lazy and wait for 'inspiration to take me.'

11. One bad part of writing alone?

Lack of criticism to make sure your writing gets better.

12. One bad part of writing with others (roleplaying)?

Sometimes people butt heads, or people take criticism badly, resulting in frustration and tense nerves.

13. Something you don't think you're good at writing and why.

The whisky sloshed in the almost empty bottle. Before him was a makeshift table made out of a tree stump, a ripped t-shirt for a tablecloth, and a few small rocks to weigh it down. 

A half-eaten ready-made meal (obviously cold because the forest had yet to be kind enough to invent a microwave tree) sat upon the table. Chicken fried steak. It was disgusting, but he had little money, and the small corner store on the road up here had a limited selection. 

He looked over towards the tent where Snow had slept the night before -- where she was still sleeping. He hadn't been able to sleep, and he certainly preferred the outside (not that Snow would have allowed him in the tent if he had asked). By 5am he had broken into the first bottle in the case. 

He certainly wouldn't be asked to head up any sort of financial bureau. Out of the money he had brought for spending cash, he spent a decent chunk of it on a case of his favorite bottom-shelf whisky. What? Whisky had grain in it. It was practically a vegetable. 

They had found out too late that the lead they had followed up to this wilderness had been tipped off. They were long gone by the time they got to the cabin (which was a pile of ash when they arrived). Now they were out of gas. It would be nearly a week until Fabletown would send their pickup (whose idea was it to not bring a cell phone?) and so they had decided to enjoy the wilderness (well, Bigby had anyway), and make their way back to civilization -- wherever that was. 

He had sensed her waking up before she exited the tent.

He motioned to the table before him. "In hindsight I should have probably bought a cake. But I don't like sweets."

He sighed, taking another swig of the whisky before realizing he should probably provide some sort of context. 

"It's my mom's birthday today. Sort of. I think."

He smiled lazily up at her, breathing deeply as he reveled in the fact that he could enjoy the cigarette between his lips without having to worry about muddling his senses. This might be his only cigarette of the day -- and that was wonderful.

questions about your character.❄ - Favorite season and why?

Bigby's favorite season is spring. The trees are starting to flower, and the animals are starting to come out of hibernation. The forest is pregnant is life, and summer has not yet had a chance to slow the step of any of the wildlife. 

☮ - Do they have an idol or someone they look up to?

Although he never says it, Bigby looks up to both Snow and Boy Blue in equal measure. He admires their tenacity, Snow's unerring will and determination, and Blue's endless optimism and willingness and ability to see the joy in the small mundane things of life.

✖ - Who is someone they just cannot stand?