#lindyabbott

¿ - a drabble about my muse from the perspective of... a member of my muse’s extended family. 

Aunt Lillian was fussing about the kitchen, working on a roast for dinner. Her family didn’t visit often, so when Max and Elena came around, she made sure to make it a big deal. Elena, fourteen at the time, was in the living room watching some old movie she’d seen a hundred times on past visits to Aunt Lillian’s. She and Max were in the kitchen. 

      “You’re going to have to put that girl through school, you know. That’s your responsibility, now. You can’t let her run around without an education ---she’s bright, and she’s got a beautiful face, but that’s only going to get her so far.” 

Max replied to Lillian with some salt in his voice, that he knew what he was doing by now, that even while their parents were around, he did most of the real work with her. Aunt Lillian wasn’t having it. 

a drabble about my muse from the point of view of...someone who admires my muse.

They did not know his name; he wore no name-tag. Then again, they supposed that librarians typically did not. Still, they wished beyond wishing to know just this small piece of information about him, and every day they returned to check out a new book, they rolled over the question in their mind. Mouthed it to themselves the whole walk over, forgot it as soon as they saw him, and cursed themselves when they held a new book and not a name to doodle in their diary. 

It was silly, but he was charming. He had approached them while reading, an act usually forbidden, but managed to do so in a way that was more endearing than annoying. They had spent hours talking together, and it was the loveliest conversation they’d had in a long while. Unfortunately, they’d left without a name, and never again did they have the nerve to strike up a conversation. Until today. 

“Hello,” they said, as usual. But when he looked up, they saw the pain in his eyes - as if something horrible had happened. The care they had grown to have for him overtook any fear they might have had, and when they asked, “are you alright?”

He said: “Not quite. But,” and at this, he brightened, “it won’t last long.”

“That’s an optimistic outlook. I can’t say I’m thinking like that when I’m not doing well,”

He smiled, “Let’s just say it comes with years of practice. I’m Charlie, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever said.”

♡ - a drabble about my muse from the perspective of... my muse’s younger self.

Name one thing someone could say or do to make your muse cry.

Answered here! 

When was the last time they were shocked or startled?

👄If your muse had the ‘kiss of death’, would they ever use it?  

NO. Absolutely not, never.

🙀Do they believe animals have extra senses that people don’t?

🙀Do they believe animals have extra senses that people don’t?

He thinks that they’re perhaps more in touch with their intuition, but otherwise remain unspecial creatures.

🔪What do they think is scarier: a killer with a gun, or a killer skilled with a knife?

Augustus knows from personal experience that a killer with a knife can do slow, brutal things that would make a gun feel like a mercy.

👻If they were a ghost, what methods would they use to haunt someone?

Were they afraid of monsters under the bed as a child?

Monday’s grandmother regaled her with tales of things that go bump in the night and would arm her against them. She didn’t have room to fear anything, because her grandmother always assured her she would be well protected. 

If your muse had the ‘kiss of death’, would they ever use it?  

▼ - What is their greatest fear?