𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊?

He doesn’t move, and his grip on her shoulders doesn’t waver. Both signs that he’s not buying her words. So, before he even says it, she already knows he’s gonna want to talk about it. And, even if she DOESN’T want to AT ALL, she’s gonna hear him out. Chuck’s not the type to back down, anyways. She sighs, presses her lips together, reaches up to rest a hand over his and nods. All as if to say ‘go ahead, I’m listening’.

'I’m proud of you if you get one can down, or all five’, he says. When Becky gets in a mood and down on herself, it’s hard to get out of it. But… that part of his whole speech to make her feel better? Kind of did it. It’s weird to have someone care this much about her. Heck, it’s weird to have someone care about her at all. She’s not used to it. And, to this day (almost a year into the relationship), she still looks at him and wonders why he does. Regardless, she’s glad. Glad that he’s in her life. “Well, first I wanna do this-” if he wanted a warning, that’s his ONLY one. But she doesn’t give him enough time to think on it! Oh no. She leans in soon after, presses her hands against his cheeks, and pulls him into a kiss. Merely a peck, really. But she had to. Then, she pulls away, smiling real wide. “… and now I wanna shoot the ones left standing.” Becky, you kinda need to let go of him to do that! She will, though. In a second. She’s more motivated to do it now, anyways. "Thanks, Chuck.“

Becky didn’t look like she wanted to hear what he had to say, but Chuck had to tell her he was proud of her. Because he was. He didn’t support this whole hunting thing, but he wanted her to be happy. So he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes, and, before he could say anything else, she’d darted forwards and held his face, and kissed him super quick -- too quick for him to really kiss her back. He blinked a couple of times, and smiled at her.

in truth, andrew didn’t listen to half of the workout routines that the coach had given to everyone. he’d crumpled it into a ball immediately, shoving it into his pocket to be completely forgotten about. anyone trying to tell him what to do would never work, and that was one thing he was absolutely certain of by now. authority figures had no place in his life, people who’d simply used it to their advantage without any actual care. so if he was out for a job now, it wasn’t because the coach had mentioned them needing to do so, it was just an excuse to waste his time - and get some space between himself and the apartment, at least to clear some thoughts on his mind. 

when he paused, catching his breath for a moment, it was impossible to miss the random guy sitting in the middle of the wood. and while andrew was about to turn and walk away, leaving whoever this freak was to their own devices, he did notice the strange sight - something he slowly noticed was a mouse. he wasn’t sure if he was more disgusted by the actual sight, or the fact that the person seemed to be impressed with himself with what was going on. at the mention of the chair, andrew took another step forward, placing his hand on it. “is this for me to bash your face in for whatever you’re doing right now?” he commented flatly, his knuckles turning white after a moment.

Chuck turned when the guy spoke. “What?” he asked, squinting at the stranger. It was a kid. Huh. This guy couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. And he was threatening to bash his face in? Yeah. Okay. Sure. He didn’t let go of the mouse, just held it in place with his powers, but he kept his gaze on the kid. “I’m not doing anything kiddo,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. It was true -- he didn’t wanna hurt the critter. He just wanted to do something. Gosh, he was so freaking bored with this place. With the limits on his powers. With all of it. Becky or no Becky, he hated being this stuck in one place.

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR A FACT // not accepting

⍢: something that excites my muse

Like a mad scientist from an old horror movie, Chuck gets really excited about creating things. When he had all his powers, before he got stuck in D.C., he totally spun out of control, making worlds that had no logic (a world where everything ran in reverse, a world where there was no yellow, a world inhabited by squirrels, etc.). He might call himself a writer, but really, he’s a creator. He loves to build worlds, design new species and “edit” old ones. He’s really just like Victor Frankenstein, but on a cosmic scale.

He misses making things from scratch, now he’s stuck in D.C.. He doesn’t have all of his powers here, and he can’t make anything living out of nothing. The most he can do is conjure inanimate objects, and he likes to do this when he gets in a creative mood, but it doesn’t totally scratch that itch. He often goes off by himself and builds a bar to brood in, or some inanimate object, or, if he’s at home, he adds a new room onto the house  that he’s sharing with Becky, or changes their bed, or just conjures countless random household items out of total boredom.

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR A FACT // not accepting

㋛: something that makes my muse uncomfortable

This is a difficult one to answer, because not many things make Chuck uncomfortable. He’s lived for so long that he’s basically seen and done everything, and he doesn’t get embarrassed easily. He’s got a ridiculous amount of self-confidence and ego, and he rarely thinks he’s wrong about anything, so making him uncomfortable isn’t an easy thing to do. He’s pretty unshakeable.

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR A FACT // not accepting

⌛: something my muse would be patient with

In a word? Becky. Becky Rosen is the person who springs to mind when I think of “Chuck being patient”. I realise the question asked for something, and I could easily talk about how patient he is when it comes to building new worlds -- coming up with new species, designing new environments, and the unbelievable, incomprehensible, complexities that come with making a whole world from scratch -- but that doesn’t apply in Washington, since he can’t build whole worlds here.

So, I’m going to talk about Becky. In D.C., Chuck doesn’t have much patience. He gets irritated quickly, with people and situations, and what he thinks is the “boring way of life” he’s forced to live here. But, when it comes to Becky, he has an unbelievable amount of patience. She just melts his heart. It’s like all the love, empathy, and patience, that he used to be capable of, millennia ago, has been directed at this one woman. Chuck’s thrown people for “disrespecting him” (see: his confrontations with Adam Milligan and Castiel) and lost his temper for basically no reason at all (see: his confrontations with Dean Winchester). But when it comes to Becky? He has the fabled patience that Christians say God’s supposed to have.

He wasn’t powerful enough to make anything living, here. He’d tried. The most he could do was create inanimate objects. He’d built Dean’s Impala, and that had scratched the itch for a while, but it was back again. So, he went off into woods, as far out as he could get, and sat cross-legged on the ground. He couldn’t create life out of nothing, but he could…  edit. It wasn’t the same as making something out of thin air, but sometimes, you had to work with what you’d got. So, Chuck snapped his fingers, and a mouse appeared, right in front of him, pulled from the undergrowth. He held it still without touching it, and looked at it.

“This is what I’m reduced to, huh?” he muttered, half to himself, half to the creator of this world, who he figured might’ve been listening. He didn’t do anything to the mouse, just studied it as it sat there, its little pink nose twitching. Here he was, grubbing around in the dirt like an animal. He’d made whole universes, and he was stuck here, reworking an already living thing to get a kick. “Pathetic,” he hissed. He didn’t know what he even wanted to do that he hadn’t already done, at some point in his life. Remove its eyes? Put its ears on its back? What was the point? Nothing was original. He was working with a completed picture. So, he just held the mouse still and glared at it, hatefully, undecided.

When he heard a twig snap behind him, and sensed someone there, he didn’t even turn around. “Sit down, if you’re staying,” he called, not caring who it was. He didn’t mind an audience – in fact, he kind of preferred it. It helped him focus. He waved his hand to conjure a wooden chair out of thin air and gestured to it. “Go ahead.”

she shrugged at his remark, “i dunno, it’s more of something to keep me occupied. i guess i could alwyas use magic to get what i want, but i feel like it’s more fun to work for it,” she said with a laugh. “especially if i can get a job as a journalist, i mean, that would hardly be like work if i love it,” she suggested. she let out a small laugh, “you know what it sounds like you need, old man?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows, “a job,” she said as a chuckle escaped her. 

Chuck wrinkled his nose when Daphne said it was more fun to work for stuff. He didn’t get that. He’d worked real hard, way back when, at the beginning of time. He’d worked hard every time he’d built a new universe. But here? Now? This wasn’t his world. He hadn’t made it. What the heck was the point in working hard at some boring job in a world that wasn’t even freaking real?

When she said she knew what he needed, Chuck raised his eyebrows in mild interest. And then, she said it. A job. He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, but he had a feeling she wasn’t. He let the old man comment slip past, because he liked Daphne, and he’d started it anyway. “You really think I need a job? C’mon. D’you see me answering to some friggin’ manager who’s been alive for a quarter of a century?” He squinted at his friend, but in a good-natured way. “What the heck would a job give me?” he asked, because he seriously wanted to know what she’d say.

The bourbon tastes strangely sour on her tongue. It almost makes her feel like she’s home, amma can almost pretend that the loud music playing in the bar is the classical songs her father used to play around the house. Sleep wasn’t her friend lately and this place seemed like the right play to go. Green hues took in her surroundings, people sweating everywhere and some lonely folks trying to drown whatever thoughts they couldn’t handle. Funny, she never wanted to be the latter, yet here she was.

A drink, that she didn’t order, was put in front of her. with a crease of her brow, the bartender pointed at the person seating two seats away from her. amma raised a perfect sculpted brow as a question.   @hiddenstarters​

Chuck didn’t chat up people at bars anymore. When he’d been travelling, before he got stuck here, sure. He used to chat up anyone, if he wanted some company. But now, he was here, and he was going steady with Becks, and the thought of hitting on a total stranger a bar was kind of gross. But that didn’t mean the tricks didn’t work, even if he didn’t wanna sleep with whoever caught his eye. So, he spotted a girl who looked like her mind was a million miles away, and he figured she could do with some company. He ordered her what he was drinking, and, when she turned to look at him, he raised his own glass, smiled, and walked over.

♞ Open Starter ♞

“What?” BoJack gruffed. By now, he had been in the bar for a considerable amount of the day. It was heading into late afternoon and he’d been there from just after he’d woken up. He was slumped over his table, one hand holding his phone, and the other, his drink. His sleeve was submerged in a lukewarm pool of spilt booze, but he was yet to take notice. He looked back to his phone, only to again be disturbed by the stranger. “If you hadn’t noticed, this seat is taken, and it will be for quite some time.” he looked up again, growing frustrated at the other’s intent on disturbing his afternoon of staring blankly at his phone while his thoughts danced around him, occasionally jabbing him enough to bring him back to reality. “This better be good, and not involve moving from this chair.”

@hiddenstarters​

The guy was a freaking mess. Chuck didn’t usually go to bars by himself, but Becky was closing up the store, and he was sick of hanging around at home with her. So, he’d headed out, and decided to get himself a drink. And something about this guy, with his ratty hair and dark aura, had just drawn Chuck over. He felt totally human, so that wasn’t it. Maybe it was because Chuck was just so freaking bored out of his mind with this town, and these people, and this guy seemed pissed off at the world. He didn’t know. But it was only when he’d gone over that he noticed the stranger had his sleeve in a pool of spilled booze.

(¸.• ♛ → the girl just took his hand to shake once, however, she still doesn’t trust him, she can’t trust someone that approaches to her that way and ask her just that, of course not, she can’t act like nothing happened and to start over. “there is nothing to start from the top, really, but…i’m annabeth.” she wasn’t going to say the last name, names were power so she prefers to just be reserve about everything.

“definitely not me,” she joked back with him. “a bookstore sounds like a nice harmless job,” she said. “nothing?” she questioned. “i mean, aside from the whole losing memories, showing up here with no recollection as how, not being able to leave … shall i go on?” she said as a laugh escaped her lips. “and thank you, that means a lot. 

“That’s ‘cause it is a nice, harmless, job,” Chuck replied. “It’s very... Becky. But I don’t get it. She doesn’t have to work. Heck, you don’t have to work, Daphne.” He frowned at her. “You can just... magick what you need, right? Like I do. I don’t get it.” He sighed, and settled back into his chair as she listed all the stuff that happened here. “Nah, you don’t have to go on,” he said, carelessly. He knew she was joking, but he didn’t smile.

@worldsbuild​ / karolina & chuck

She had been practising her abilities. It was difficult, with no guidance and only small clues on what she was and what she could do Karolina was stuck figuring out just about everything by herself. She didn’t even know the limits of what she could do. So far there had been the glowing, and then flying, or more like hovering or her sake as she was far too cautious to go high off the ground, but considering how much of a surprise the latter had been Karolina couldn’t feel confident saying that was all there was. The best she could do was try and have those under control by the time she learned anything else. 

It was hard, finding empty spots to practice in a city like Washington, but she had found a few semi reliable spots, and just had to trust herself to be paying enough attention to hear someone coming in time. Of course there was going to be a day that didn’t last. She had been in the park, though pulled off to a far end with a good cluster of trees, a much less popular spot than any of the actual trails and well maintained foliage. She had been floating and glowing, just a few feet from the ground, when she heard footsteps, much too close for comfort. Her eyes widened as she did her best to quickly bring herself to the ground, not as fast as she’d like in an attempt to still be gentle with herself. Finally, when her feet were settled she shoved her bracelet back on, the glowing coming to a stop and the more normal looking tone returning to her skin.

She looked, finally fully facing the stranger. “Uh, how much of that did you see?” 

It was shocking, really, how boring this place was. For a town full of people from other worlds, people with magic, other deities, angels he hadn’t created, nothing ever happened here. The friggin’ squirrel world he’d made on a whim had been more exciting than Washington, D.C. When Becky was at work, Chuck just wandered around, teleporting randomly, hanging out with his few friends sometimes, just looking for something to do. Sometimes, he followed the trails of auras he felt, of beings and creatures he didn’t recognise, but, when he saw a kid glowing pink, floating off the grounds, he hadn’t actually been looking for her. He’d just come across her, totally by chance.

She lowered herself to the ground quickly, but it was too late. Chuck walked over to her, smiling a little. At least this was something. He shoved his hands into his pockets casually. “All of it,” he said. “The floating, the glowing. Cat’s out of the bag, kiddo.” His smile warmed. She was younger than she’d looked when her skin was glowing, and he didn’t wanna freak her out. “But don’t worry,” he added. “I won’t tell anyone. I’m guessing you wanna keep it on the D.L., right?” That was how kids spoke, wasn’t it? He tried to keep up with the lingo. He kept meaning to ask Becks, but he always forgot.