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lestappenforever · 8 months

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Sequel to "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)" Sneak Peek

I promised you all a wedding sequel to "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)", and I am thrilled to announce that it is very close to being finished. So, in true Mona fashion, please enjoy a little sneak peek of the sequel that is currently untitled:

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When Max doesn’t return after ten minutes, Charles gets to his feet and goes looking for him.

He finds Max standing by the open door leading out into the courtyard, phone in hand by his thigh, watching the heavy rain fall onto the stones and grass outside.

Charles walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Max’s waist from behind. Max lets out a sigh at the contact, leaning back against Charles.

“He’s not coming, is he?” Charles asks softly. Max shakes his head.

Inviting Jos had been a gamble, they both knew as much. Not only had it taken Max months to decide whether or not he wanted to extend an invitation to his father, but when he had finally decided he wanted his father to be there, it had been a battle trying to get the man to RSVP. There had been so many excuses, none of which had been even remotely good, as to why Jos Verstappen couldn’t let them know whether he’d be able to come to the wedding or not. Eventually, they’d decided to stop waiting for an answer and reserved a seat for him anyway. The last time Max had spoken to him two weeks ago, it had sounded like Jos would be attending. And now, less than forty-eight hours before the wedding, he had changed his mind.

“I’m sorry, chéri,” Charles says, tightening his hold around Max.

“It’s fine,” Max shrugs, leaning his head to the side. It’s a lie, Charles knows, because in that exact moment, Max’s heart no doubt feels as heavy as the rain outside. “I’m an idiot for thinking he was actually going to show up.”

“He’s your father, Max. Thinking he was going to show up to your wedding is the very least you should expect from him,” Charles immediately argues.

Max makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. Then, he turns his head to look at Charles over his shoulder. “At least the people who truly matter will be there.”

Charles offers him a small, slightly sad smile. “True.”

Max presses a kiss to his lips and gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s soft music coming from the lounge behind them, accompanied by the soft murmurs and laughter of their family and friends. Deciding that seeing his fiancé sad so close to their wedding day simply isn’t acceptable, Charles releases his hold on Max and grabs his hand instead.

“Come on,” Charles says, as he steps past the Dutchman and through the door.

Max gives him a puzzled look. “It’s raining.”

“I’m aware.”

“So where are we going?”

Charles tugs at Max’s hand again until the other man steps outside with him. They’re still shielded under the terrace above for the time being. Charles turns to face Max properly.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, and Max has the audacity to pretend like he has to think about it.

Charles glares at him. Max laughs, and it’s a truly beautiful sound.

“Of course I do,” he eventually says, and that’s all Charles needs to drag Max from under the safety of the terrace and out into the pouring rain.

They step over the carefully trimmed low hedges and onto one of the grass patches, where Charles pulls Max close and places a hand on his waist, his other holding Max’s tightly between them. Max is looking at him as if Charles has lost his mind, but he’s smiling, which is exactly what Charles is trying to achieve. Max places his free hand on Charles’ shoulder, and then the Monégasque starts moving them slowly in time with the soft music that’s only barely audible from inside.

The rain is turning Max’s blond hair dark, and there are raindrops dripping from both their chins as they move together in a slow, slightly uncoordinated waltz in the rain. It’s not enough to completely ease the pain of Max’s father refusing to come to his wedding, but it’s enough to make it feel a little less crushing.

Above them, on the terrace, Daniel has snuck out with his phone and is taking a ridiculous amount of pictures and videos of Max and Charles dancing in the rain, two days before their wedding

#Lestappen #Lestappen fic #Sequel incoming besties!!!!#Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen #My writing

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theresattrpgforthat · 9 months

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hello!! i hope you are well!! i have a bit of a time sensitive question so deepest apologies for that. but i just found out Today that i am going to be teaching college freshman starting Next Monday (8/21) and so am scrambling to pull together some stuff to get our class started off well!! im theming my class on ttrpgs so my first (probably not the last) question is - do you have any recs for ttrpgs for 3-5 players that could be run in like 10 minutes as an icebreaker? silly games would be awesome. im deep in the bible belt and theres still a Wee Bit of satanic panic here so hopefully nothing like. too dark or demon-y. if you are able to give me recs before monday i will be so forever in your debt ToT thank you!!! -psychhound

Theme: Quick Silly Games

@creacherkeeper Hello friend! I hope you find this helpful! Whipped it up in an afternoon so the summaries may be abbreviated.

ImproVeto, by Plotbunny Games.

ImproVeto is a GM-less mini storygame that lets you tell absurd, fun stories together with at least one other person. It's also a game to help you practice improvisation in collaborative storytelling and the use of the X-card and similar calibration tools for role-playing games.

Impro Veto is quick, GM-less, and doubles as an opportunity to build the idea of safety tools into a game’s mechanics. It’s basically a big game of collaborative storytelling, and players are encouraged to change the direction of the story by vetoing random elements and changing them to continue the story as they tell it. It requires no dice, and can probably be played pretty quickly if you are playing with a small group.

Clown Helsing, by Planarian.

Clowns. We've all seen them… riding their unicycles, blowing up balloons at parties, piling in garish hordes from tiny cars, waddling around in bulbous red shoes, passed out in a dumpster stinking of booze and regret. For what do these martyrs of mirth sacrifice themselves? The answer is they do it for us. Not just to fill our need for laughter and merriment, but because they defy the doom of mankind! Clowns are man's only salvation against… Vampires.

Clown Helsing played closer to an hour for me but I think if you’re putting it before the students in a less casual setting, it might speed play up quite a bit. I’d recommend a) knowing the rules really well before starting play, b) providing students with roll tables so they can quickly create a clown, and c) starting the game in the middle of the vampire fight. I’d also recommend reducing the number of Dignity boxes significantly than what is recommended in the book, especially if you, like me, are absurdly good at Rock Paper Scissors - because yes, RPS is how you solve conflicts in this game!

Theme wise, this is exactly on tone. Your clowns humiliating jerk vampires. Let the buffoonery commence!

The Goose of Grillner Grove, by Jenn Martin.

A tabletop roleplaying game for 3+ players for 15+ minutes. Play townsfolk attempting to warn a newcomer about the goose that's lived in the area for 20 years, and plagued each of you personally.

Take turns telling stories about that time when you saw the goose doing something outrageous, but don't violate the two truths of the game- the goose isn't supernatural, and the goose doesn't die- lest you be honked at by the other players.

At the end, decide if the newcomer heeds your warnings...

Anyone who has played the Untitled Goose Game is probably going to have a fun time playing this. This game will probably go longer if you have a larger number of people, but it certainly gives you a chance for people to get used to the improv side of games.

The Octopus Shipwreck Explorer, by SassWrites.

An octopus is exploring a shipwreck. The shipwreck is full of treasure, but the octopus doesn’t care. It’s looking for something else, known only to it and its eight arms. The only hitch is, each arm has its own brain! How will they all work together to survive?

One of the biggest assets of this game is that it can be played with a larger group of people. To speed this game up, you could present some options of goals for the players to choose from, and give each player one action to do before wrapping up the game.

Spin the Fishblade, by Marshall Bradshaw.

Spin the FishBlade is the GMless, diceless storygame where players control one fish with a knife by spinning a knife. It's meant for three to five players to play for one to two hours, telling an outlandish story with some stylized violence. Imagine if Finding Nemo were mixed with an action movie, like Taken, Kill Bill, or Snatch.

You can see in the description above that this Fishblade game is also a bit over the time limit but with some adjustments you might be able to at least introduce the game to folks. You could create a pre-established premise, and provide a number of items for the students to choose as loci. The tone can vary with this game, so establishing a premise that is clearly humorous in it’s intent might get you where you want to go.

Please Act Like A Human, by Eden Reese Potts.

Inspired by Octodad and sitcoms about aliens pretending to be human, you are an extraterrestrial creature with nonhuman anatomy who has crash landed on planet Earth and until you can escape, you have to blend in with the local life forms.

This game is just one page with rules, and requires a number of (different) d6’s. I think this is one of the fastest games on this list; the rules are simple, and all you really need to do is introduce an obstacle that allows each player to improvise and roll once! Octodad is pretty humorous and light, so I can see this being pretty silly!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #asks #dnd #ttrpg

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amaiguri · 17 days

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Worldbuilding My Magic System FOR REAL

So Yssaia has HAD a pretty developed magic system for a while. And to recap it for you... I'm going to paste my half of me raving about this on Discord (thank you to @zebee-nyx and @galacticsand and @reaperofcrows for being so cool and letting me be an unhinged worldbuilding mad lad XD):

"What is Ysse?"

So the way Ysse works is its basically invisible dust floating in the air. And if it hits itself at certain velocities and in certain volumes, "spontaneous effects" happen -- like water materializing out of "nowhere" or fire exploding or wind gusts. You're limited a little by Avatar Last Airbender bending logic (you can't summon fully sapient creatures, you can't teleport, you can't control people's minds unless you're like... touching their nervous system, etc.)

So Mages invented the first writing as a way to record what patterns of movement did what. And eventually, used them to communicate these patterns as a shorthand for more generalized concepts...

So writing also got invented sometimes BEFORE agriculture...

"How precise do these movements/velocities need to be?"

It needs to be PRETTY precise. And this is why the average person CAN'T learn magic -- because Ysse in low amounts is invisible to the average person

But mages can see Ysse, which helps a lot. And they can see these shapes OCCURING in the natural world too -- when the wind blows, its because Ysse particles FORMED the Wind Rune/Sigil in the sky BUT this still doesn't guarantee that they cast any spells if they don't have the physical discipline too

So, in theory, "anyone" COULD move their hands PERFECTLY to spontaneously start a fire. But they PROBABLY won't

"How does this impact the natural world?"

This is also how animals and plants can do magic too. Tree roots in the north have roots that have specific patterns that warm up the soil, so snow can actually MELT and give them water and the tree doesn't die

And this is also my excuse for why so many things have bunny ears -- normally, long ears in colder-than-average climates (i.e. All of Yssaia) would be bad. But in Yssaia, these long ears are convergently evolving to channel Ysse. What they channel, exactly, I haven't decided (probably heat lol or something to increase air density so sound travels farther???)

AND all this is ALSO why the Demons are such an abomination -- because their Blood Magic doesn't obey particle physics, they just fucking do whatever they want

"Why do you need to know all this?"

The question at this point, I guess, is basically "How do I make fantasy technology that looks whimsical but also looks at least hypothetically functional under closer scrutiny?"

Yeah, and the full Answer TM to that right now is just <insert the entire design philosophy I haven't discovered yet here>

"So how IS magic going to shape technology, when you design it for the Untitled Yssaia Video Game?"

...Yeah, okay, after brainstorming all this, I think here's my strategy for how I'm going to tackle technology:

Step 2) Create a master list of technologies I will worry about/actually visualize in the game I will want to keep an OPEN LIST so I can add more things to it as I do research/find really specific use cases (such as scrollcases or chopstick holders)

Step 1) Establish symbols for a handful of common things in both the North and the South that at least vaguely make sense with the concept of the particles. So things like: - Fire/Heat - Water/Melt - Ice/Slow - Wind/Quicken - Earth/Apply Force - Sun/Light - Moon/Closing/Locking (Thanks to @zebee-nyx for this one!)

Step 3) Design simple sprites for things that can later be shrunk down and used as set-dressing for maps BUT at a little bigger in scale so they can be shown to other people sensibly (maybe on the same sheet at the walking animations for scale?)

AND WITH THAT, after 5 years of only vaguely imagining all this, this is what I designed, using a combination of symbols I had already designed and dice that I pushed around on my desk to see what kind of patterns they'd make:

Are some of these a little funky and don't really work with real particle physics? Yeah, fair. I'll take notes, if you got 'em. I'm open to critique, if you wanna lol

Last comment that didn't make it into the big discussion with my buds tonight: Ysse particles are how temperature is distributed. So, hot areas have fewer, cold areas have more. I know that isn't how thermodynamics work but does anyone else really?

(Something something eldritch horror thermodynamics post... And my magic-god is an eldritch horror! See? It's perfect!)

Thank you for coming to my #WorldbuildingWednesday post! If you liked this, don't forget to REBLOG and follow the #Yssaia tag or something🥰 (Are calls-to-action cringe? Publicly shame me, if so)

#worldbuilding #world building #world building wednesday #fantasy world building #magic system #magic #game dev #writing #amaiguri #yssaia

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untitledmemes · 6 months

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Untitled Mystery Item Starter

What's in the bag? Sender sends "REACH INSIDE" + two item/trinkets choices from the table below to receiver. Receiver will write a starter that must include either one or both of the items/trinkets sent to them. For extra fun, I recommend using a random number generator and send what you get! There are 50 items/trinkets below. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

1 : A piece of crumpled paper with an unfamiliar phone number scribbled on it.

2 : A thermos filled with a sweet scented, hot liquid.

3 : A pair of broken glasses missing one of its lenses.

4: A bloodstained face towel.

5 : A laptop with colorful sticks on its back that needs charging.

6 : An old coin with a special meaning to sender/receiver.

7 : A dirty doll with eerie button eyes.

8 : An admission ticket to sender's/receiver's favorite show.

9 : Free Space; Sender's choice.

10 : A pair of weighted dice with an X symbol where the one should be.

11 : A peacock feather that has a strange shimmer in sunlight.

12 : A pair of old socks.

13 : A silver locket with a picture of an elderly couple inside, the man's face scratched out.

14 : A sequined, wooden door knob with mystic carvings.

15 : A blueprint for a contraption far beyond your understanding.

16 : A music sheet for an otherworldly melody.

17 : A fresh fruit basket with a note from a loved one.

18 : A box of chocolates, each one tastes like a different memory of your relationship with its sender.

19 : A big boquet of wildflowers, with a parting note for a deceased person.

20 : A pair of scissors that doesn't cut paper, but cuts stone.

21 : A light bulb that doesn't need a socket to light up.

22 : A silver pistol with intricate carvings that has no ammo.

23 : A portrait of a couple with the woman's face scratched out.

24 : A small pendant of a cat.

25 : An embroided bracelet that was made for you by someone dear.

26 : A receipt for a donation made in your name.

27 : A flip phone with a single new text message from an unknown number, asking for help.

28 : A blank white shirt that changes its color and pattern according to the wearer's mood.

29 : A sexy lingerie set that still has the tags on.

30 : A tiny, ornamented tea cup that doesn't seem like it was made for human hands.

31 : A giant set of cutlery that doesn't seem like it was made for human hands.

32 : A bottle of perfume that contains the most foul smelling odor you ever smelled in your lifetime. For some reason, other people love it!

33 : A photograph of a small child holding out her hands to you.

34 : A key that you do not remember what it opens.

35 : Free Space; Receiver's choice.

36 : A small block made of an unknown material.

37 : A bell tied to a piece of string that makes a remarkably loud sound.

38 : A mask that oddly resembles your enemy's/rival's face.

39 : A hand mirror that shows you the reflection of your enemy's/rival's face instead of your own.

40 : A pillbox with a single capsule left.

41 : A bioluminescent blue rose with a love note dedicated to you, but no mention of its sender.

42 : A piece of your childhood blanket that still smells like your old room.

43 : A worn out carnival toy that you wanted to win many, many years ago.

44 : A piece of expensive moonstone that originated from the moon.

45 : A piece of expensive sunstone believed to have originated from the sun itself.

46 : A sketchbook full of beautiful, detailed portraits of monsterous creatures.

47 : A notebook full of descriptions about an eldritch ritual that promises powers beyond imagination.

48 : An invitation to a formal dinner happening tonight, and the address is your house.

49 : A jar so dark that you cannot see its contents.

50 : An enamel pin of a dog.

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courfeyracs-swordcane · 13 days

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Got tagged by @dandybabbler for wip wsaturday!

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs. I am also including drawing wips bc why not!

Snow White is something that can be so twink death

Mamma Mia Revamp (here we go again)

Untitled notes app ballad brothers guy

Pallas turning William into a malnourished orphan child with aer mind

GAY BITCHES. SWORD

beremuntena sword of Damocles?

Kyrie billboard

You believe me like a god I destroy you like a man

Untitled animatic exercise

Tagging @nosongunsung11 @orbleglorb @lilithvibeplace @they-see-me-rolling-dice and I do cannot think of four more people to tag but if you see this and you wanna! Go wild!

#!!!

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wyrd-syster · 4 months

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FANFIC ROUNDUP: 2023

LIST OF FANWORKS

POSTED

lend me some sugar (I am your neighbor) | Haladriel neighbors AU | E | 2/2

tell me something true (or tell me nothing at all) | Haladriel "This is How You Lose the Time War" AU | E | one-shot

it's a dangerous game | Haladriel Venetian-style "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" AU | E | one-shot | dead dove

dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone) | Haladriel canon divergence | E | 9/? (wip)

living la dolce vita (I’ve been saving all my summers for you) | Haladriel "Stepford Wives" cult AU | E | one-shot

take a chance and roll the dice (say it once, say it twice) | Haladriel Halloween-themed drabble collection | M | 8/8

there is a light (and it never goes out) | Haladriel Hanukkah-themed canon divergence | T | 1/2 (wip)

sugar and spice (and everything...) | Haladriel neighbors AU | E | sequel to lend me some sugar | one-shot

Total words: 127,458, almost triple my output from last year. I am flabbergasted.

UNPOSTED WIPS

oh boy. Not including wips noted above:

we were angels, once (don't you remember?) | Haladriel immortal soulmates au | M (probably?) | one-shot

break the lock if it don't fit (love sticks, sweat drips) | Haladriel "Ocean's Eleven" AU | E | one-shot (title subject to change)

and on the creature scratches (it doesn't know how to get out) | Haladriel mob AU | E| multi-chapter sequel to oh, can’t you hear that scratching? (there’s something at the door)

Untitled third installment of the Haladriel like a good neighbor series

Untitled Haladriel Rumpelstiltskin AU

TOTAL # OF COMPLETED WORKS/FANDOMS WRITTEN IN

Six completed works written for the Sauron (Halbrand)/Galadriel (Haladriel) fandom, The Rings of Power

OVERALL THOUGHTS

it's like I can't consume media anymore without being like "*leonardo dicaprio meme* this could be a Haladriel AU!"

PERSONAL FAVORITE?

I'm going to say living la dolce vita (I’ve been saving all my summers for you), mostly because of the amount of work I put into it. Honestly, I never thought I'd finish it! I restarted this story six or seven times — I just could not find the voice. But I am so pleased with the outcome. I think of everything I've written this year, this story really underscored to me that, beyond "flashes of inspiration," writing is a lot of hard work that needs consistent attention and practice!

MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED?

I definitely think this one is it's a dangerous game, my Dr. Jekyll and Hyde AU. I initially started writing this for a Gothic-themed challenge, abandoned for a bit, then finished in a flurry for Haladriel Week. This fic is also a close second for my favorite of the year. I love a Gothic aesthetic and I made sure this story was chock full of it. I was also so purposeful with my writing voice for this story and, to me, it doesn't sound like anything else I've written.

MOST POPULAR?

Oh without a doubt, lend me some sugar (I am your neighbor)!

STORY WITH THE SEXIEST MOMENT?

I mean, this is so subjective, but I think the somnophilia scene from it's a dangerous game takes the cake for me! I wrote it in one sitting during my lunch break and my god was it hard to go back to work after this...

An excerpt from the end of the scene: Instead, he adjusts her skirts and melts into the darkness, leaving her as he found her; boneless and wet, flushed with heat and ripe for the taking.

MOST FUN STORY TO WRITE?

Fun is a strong word, but I was the story I felt was most fulfilling to write was tell me something true (or tell me nothing at all). I already had some of the template letter concepts in my notes from a twitter conversation much earlier in the year, and expanding on them, while building the scenes around them, was a really fun exercise.

HARDEST?

I'm not going to lie, most of them! I used to be the type of writer who would have one flash of inspiration, write it up at a mad sprint, then quit writing until I was struck with another mad idea. I wrote for so many prompt and themed challenges this year that I was required to be more intentional about story building and more consistent with my writing — even when it was hard, even when I hated everything I wrote down. Felt a lot like muscle training at the gym!

BIGGEST SURPRISE?

My output really surprised me!! I complain to my therapist all the time that I'm shit at finishing things, but it's hard to deny the truth when it's staring me in the face: six complete stories, two wips that I will complete! And not just the quantity of my output, but the quality too. I am proud of, and really like, everything I published!

I mean, don't ask me how my social life is going lol, but at least my writing life is going well!

DID YOU TAKE ANY RISKS IN WRITING THIS YEAR?

Dipping my toe into Dark Fics for sure, which is new for me. But beyond that, just engaging with the fandom as a whole! I firmly believe that writing/story-telling is a communal activity and I am beyond grateful to have found that community. It's the first real fan-space I've been a real part of, and it's definitely improved my writing.

MOST UNINTENTIONALLY TELLING STORY?

My life is too boring to translate to fic lol. But I did not have to dig very deep to write the depression beats in living la dolce vita (I’ve been saving all my summers for you). A lot of what Galadriel goes through — the listlessness, the anger, the selfishness — is stuff I also struggle with during depressive episodes.

FAVORITE LINES/SCENES?

I like them all lol but these are a few that I know others, including my fiancé, have really liked:

dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone): “My lady, if I had a dragon’s tooth for every time you told me not to worry while you went careening off into peril, I’d have a smiling crown for my troubles.”

lend me some sugar (I am your neighbor): And she shatters, then, like glass; a thousand glittering pieces sailing off into the light. Irreparably damaged, ground to dust — edges sharpening as they fall into a mosaic of destruction. There is no end and no beginning. A lifetime of little deaths folding in on themselves, one on top of the other.

tell me something true (or tell me nothing at all): I am drowning in this ocean of blood. And you — you are not here to pull me to the surface as you once did. How could you, when you are wave and anchor both?

there is a light (and it never goes out): She can offer him no words of comfort, no platitudes to ease his sorrows. But she can offer this. The soft touch of her lips to his, the gentle stroke of her fingers across his cheek. She cannot mend a broken heart, but she can hold it for a while, cup it in her palms and keep it safe. She can pour her light into his darkened soul, weave together a dream where they are bound and they are whole. If only just this once.

MY FAVE PART OF FANDOM IN 2023

Literally just having this fandom. Having this community of wonderful, kind, incredibly talented people I can talk to, get advice from, brainstorm with!! I have made so many wonderful friends and I will be forever grateful.

2024 WRITING AMBITIONS

I want to continue developing a consistent writing habit, preferably once a day. Ideally, I'll become to type of girlie who wakes up at 5am and writes for two hours before work, but let's be real, I'm way to sleepy for that!

I also want to focus on two specific things: writing faster and writing less. First, I am, in my eyes, a slow writer — without that "flash of inspiration," it can take me a few days to write a single scene. Mostly because I do not follow my own advice and have to get everything perfect in the first draft. Second — as you can see from this post!!! — I have always been the type of writer who goes "why use one word when you can use ten?" I want to be able to write shorter stories without feeling like I'm compromising on my vision.

2024 FICS ON THE IMMEDIATE HORIZON

chapter two of there is a light (and it never goes out)

the immortal soulmates AU

dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone)* (which I think will be on hiatus until I can get a few chapters ahead before posting).

Thanks to @liminal-zone for the format, @conundrumoftime and @thecoziestbean inspiration!

#fanfiction #personal #2023 wrap-up

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josephseedismyfather · 6 months

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WIP Music Monday

I was tagged in today's post by @inafieldofdaisies, thank you so much friend! 🥰

The rules: Post a song that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it. I’m also including the lyrics.

Afflicted.

If it stayed, I'd never leave it If that turned around I'd grieve the special dirty things That we used to talk about I mean that loving you is strange And adored by me throughout Oh no, it's you again

Someday soon, you'll find that someone Waiting for the chance to beat you Drooling on the set to feel you Blessing you with every kiss

Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious loving the thrill Tying yourself to me Stitch up my emptiness 'Cause you're the death of me So precious, loving the thrill

Such the patient one who needs me The spoiled one who wins So shocking, where's your sense? Don't you know I hate you, oh Unsatisfied, you little girl

Rolling dice and seeming queer Bastard love, a sick affair Let's see what new disease you'll fetch I mean, that fucking you is strange And adored by me throughout Oh no, it's you again Blessing you with every kiss

So precious, you know this hate of mine exploded I'm so deranged you know, I will never be the same

Parenesis.

The lights go out and I can't be saved Tides that I tried to swim against Have brought me down upon my knees Oh, I beg, I beg and plead Singin' come out of things unsaid Shoot an apple off my head And a trouble that can't be named A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singin'

You are You are

Confusion that never stops Closing walls and ticking clocks Gonna come back and take you home I could not stop that you now know Singin' come out upon my seas Cursed missed opportunities Am I a part of the cure Or am I part of the disease? Singin'

You are You are You are You are

You are You are

And nothing else compares Oh, no, nothing else compares And nothing else compares

You are You are

Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go Home, home, where I wanted to go

Untitled John WIP.

Here I lay Still and breathless Just like always Still, I want some more Mirrors sideways Who cares what's behind? Just like always Still your passenger

Chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces These and other lucky witnesses Now to calm me This time won't you please Drive faster

Roll the window down this Cool night air is curious Let the whole world look in Who cares who sees anything? I'm your passenger I'm your passenger

Drop these down Then put them on me Nice, cool seats There to cushion your knees Now to calm me Take me around again Don't pull over This time won't you please Drive faster

Roll the window down this Cool night air is curious Let the whole world look in Who cares who sees what tonight? Roll these misty windows Down to catch my breath and then Go and go and go just Drive me home and back again

Here I lay Just like always Don't let me Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go Take me to the edge

Tagging, with apologies for doubles and no pressure as always: @wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @simplegenius042, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @milesnotshur, and anybody else who wants to share. Tag me! 😘

#music monday #harley x jacob #evangeline x joseph #untitled john wip #tagged 🖤#far cry 5 wip #music tag games #wip playlist #spotify #Spotify

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stvlti · 7 months

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Snippet from my untitled Blue Beetle & Teen Titans rejects fic :)

Click. Snap. Click. Snap.

They're sat inside a Big Belly Burger, waiting for their order of fries. A female singer he doesn't recognise croons Spanglish over weirdly retro beats on the speakers. Eddie is fidgeting with the catch on his now-useless slider phone, out of nerves or boredom, he doesn't know.

The first thing they did once they got into town was to buy a mobile phone. It's strange, but there aren't many payphones around, and whatever happened to them while they were in the Bleed and subsequently in their fall back to Earth must have fried their cellphones. Luckily, he found one of those rundown stores selling spare electronics for cheap that accepts cash and doesn't ask questions. At least one thing hasn't changed.

Click. Snap. Click. Snap.

The phone they bought is a palm-sized thing with a wide touch-screen, one of those smart-phone models that only came out last year, and yet the store owner seemed almost happy to part with it. "It's ancient," he'd said in a comfortingly thick accent, "I was about to chuck it out with the garbage. I'd sell it to you for free, chiquito." Things only get stranger from there. It took less than a minute for Khaji to jail break the phone and recalibrate itself to the local network. They tried his family's numbers again, even tried the Titans Tower secure line, but no dice. What Jaime found on the internet was even less reassuring.

Click. Snap. Click. Snap.

"Hey, Eddie."

The fidgeting stops.

"Could you go grab us some drinks? I need a minute alone with the scarab."

"Sure...?" Eddie throws another glance at Jaime, not quite hiding his worry as he slides out of his seat.

[ You were vexed by his opening and shutting of his phone case. ]

"I didn't realise it was state the obvious hour."

Khaji Da does not respond. Jaime rubs his temple.

"Sorry, sorry. Yes, I'm stressed. Tell me you have some good news, at least."

[ You are still alive, as is Eddie Bloomberg. You have enough money to acquire sustenance for another week, during which I can help you find a job and — ]

"Khaji. I need to get home."

[ You are technically in your hometown. ]

"But it's not the El Paso I know. Right? Tell me I'm not crazy."

[ Jaime Reyes is correct. Based on our quick search of the government domains, social network platforms and news sites, the Reyes family never lived in El Paso. There is no record of your parents or extended family in the state registry. Your name does not exist in the class registers of your high school. Your sister— ]

"Also doesn't exist! I know! I got it the first time." Jaime looks over to the self-service machine. What is taking Eddie so long? "I asked you for good news, Khaji."

[ Actually, your sister exists. Milagro Reyes, age 18, enrolled in Edge Keys High School. According to her posts on Instagram, she was last seen at the Kord Centre Mall — ]

"Did you say eighteen? And where the heck is Edge Key?"

[ I have some more good news. While there is no record of your other family members in the state of Texas, a Reyes Auto Repair Shop was recently removed from the business registry in Edge Key, Greater Palmera City. ]

"What? We have to go to Edge Key!"

"What's Edge Key?" Eddie sets a tray down, almost spilling the two extra-large cups of soda balanced precariously on it. The fries look tiny in comparison.

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Khaji, can you — hold on, I'm syncing you to the phone so Eddie can see."

The phone lights up, and Jaime expects Khaji's words to crawl across the screen like text messages the way he's done the few times Jaime tried to sync the scarab to his old phone via blue-tooth. Instead, the phone starts talking in a lady computer voice.

"Your scarab was a chick this whole time?" Eddie exclaims, the half-chewed fry in his hand forgotten.

"What? No! I didn't even know it could speak like this."

"I simply utilised this phone's built-in text-to-speech system. It is not my problem that the manufacturers could only imagine AI voices as female."

"I think it just insulted every super-computer in the cape community..."

"Anyway, the coordinates?"

[ There is one last thing you should know before you go, Jaime Reyes. The Blue Beetle was last sighted in Palmera City six hours ago. ]

The boys pause and look at each other.

"Show me, Khaji."

And on the screen of the phone appears a crisp, 4K picture of a guy in a costume that looks exactly like him, mid-flight in the streets of a city he's never been to.

#jaime reyes #eddie bloomberg #teen titans #blue beetle #kid devil #I typed 3 chapters of this au for 3 hours straight and now my hand is fucked :')#I still have shit to prep for tomorrow but I'm ok. I'M OKAY #Eugenia writes

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lovevalley45 · 4 months

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untitled ficlet #336

a/n: me writing smth that acknowledges that the legends are technically trapped in time prison indefinitely? it's more likely that u think. thank you to @supermothering for suggesting i should write some behrastra when i put out an open call for writing requests and letting me revisit this idea!

Astra hadn’t expected time prison to be so boring.

The technical term for the facility the Fixers had brought them to was not “time prison”, really. Rather, it was “Council of Fixed Point Determination Facility for Re-Education and Rehabilitation of Temporal Offenders”, as the Fixers had informed them when bringing them in. But time prison was much less clunky.

Upon arrival, they’d split them up and slapped a magic dampener on her wrist. Astra would have taken it more personally if they hadn’t taken Behrad’s air totem and Spooner’s gun, as well as finding about a dozen knives on Sara’s person. Where they were all hiding, that was unclear.

The only saving grace was that in the splitting up, she and Behrad had gotten thrown in the same cell. It was just big enough to fit a bunk-bed and a table, with a door that only led to a tiny bathroom. It seemed completely walled in. But she knew that one of the walls was a face, occasionally becoming transparent enough that they could see the rest of the building they were in.

Without the whole team together, it was hard to plan. But the two of them had already cracked what would be the first step of any attempt at a breakout. That is, if they could actually pull it off.

“What’s the verdict?” Astra asked as Behrad took a look at the anti-magic cuff. They were huddled up on the bottom bunks, as tucked out of sight as they could be. It was a little nice, her back against his chest. The knowledge that there were guards that could easily peer in and see them was not so nice.

He pried out the bamboo fork from their meal that he had been using to try and examine the inside. “No dice. Until I can get something that isn’t made of bamboo, we need the actual key to unlock it.” He dropped her wrist back into her lap. “Whatever tech they’re using is more advanced than Ray’s anti-nanite tech. But more fragile, so there’s always brute force.” As she looked at the cuff, considering it, he quickly added, “If you’re fine with breaking your wrist.”

She groaned. “Damnit.” She squeezed her hand into a fist. “You think I could make a run for it if they tried to take me to the medbay here?”

“I’d prefer to not have to watch you break your wrist,” Behrad told her.

“Alright, I get it.” She flexed her hand. “This blows. We spend half a year trying to get back to our ship and the moment we can go back to time travel we get arrested.”

“At least, we’re stuck together.”

She closed her eyes as she pressed her head against him. “Behrad, you’re great and all, but stuck is still stuck.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Astra felt him shrug. “At least we aren’t stuck sharing a cell with the guy who stole our ship.”

“I admire your attempts to look on the bright side here.”

“Yeah, if I don’t, I’ll be freaking out,” he admitted. “Focusing on trying to crack that lets me get my mind off things a little.”

Astra wasn’t the type to freak out, but she could understand that. With a goal, it was harder to dwell on their situation. “It’s not your fault that they gave us bamboo forks.”

“They are better for the environment than plastic,” he muttered. “How are you doing?”

“It’s weird to be without my magic. Not even for being able to get out, but just-” she sighed. “Another level of feeling powerless.”

The Fixer’s stipulation had been that she could get it off if she was “good.” Astra figured that breaking her wrist to run off was not a case of good behavior. In a way, it reminded her of her first few days on the Waverider. Outnumbered and, once again, trapped in a cell.

At least, then, she’d been able to get a sweet taste of temporary revenge.

Behrad wrapped his arms around her, pulling her a little closer. She still felt drained from rebuilding the Waverider and just wanted to drift off to sleep in his warmth. As he rested his cheek against her curls, he said, “I don’t know how helpful the Air Totem would have been compared to your magic. But I got used to having the ancestors and the other Zari always with me.”

“You’ve got me,” Astra said.

“Is it a bad time to realize this is the most privacy we’ve had since we got together?”

She laughed. “We had that date in the manor when we were ‘retired’.”

“Okay, but everyone has keys to the manor and could’ve strolled in whenever they want.” Behrad lifted his head. “We just have the wall where Fixers may or may not be watching us.”

“Do they think we’re scheming or just cuddling?” Astra asked.

“Are we still scheming?”

She looked up at him. “I think we might have stopped scheming when you told me I couldn’t break my wrist.”

He shrugged again. “Alright. Maybe we did.”

“But I wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while,” she confessed.

“Me neither.”

However, as he rested his head against hers again, the not-a-wall faded from opaque to transparent. Astra scrambled out of his arms like they’d been caught doing more than cuddling as a pair of the Fixers who’d arrested them accompanied a man in what she assumed was the futuristic equivalent of Ava’s old Time Bureau pantsuits.

“I’m, uh, sorry to interrupt your recreation time,” he said. “But it’s time for your first re-education session.”

Great. Another fun aspect of time prison.

As the Fixers came in to restrain them, she shot a look at Behrad.

Not for the first time, she was grateful that they weren’t stuck here on their own. And she was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.

#alli writes shit #legends of tomorrow #behrastra #behrstra #astra logue #behrad tarazi #i think the angsty serious instinct is still strong within me but it's fluffy enough lol

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zaebeecee · 5 days

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Untitled CasinoBomb one-shot •

TW: ADDICTION, ALCOHOL

Husk was a gambler.

This was not new information to anyone who had known Husk for more than an hour. It wouldn’t surprise anyone, either, to learn that he’d played his first hand of poker before he was seven years old. Cards and dice had followed him his entire life, both to his benefit and to his detriment, as he followed the call of illicit games in the back rooms of speakeasies through the streets of Atlantic City to the shiny new casinos popping up all over the Las Vegas strip. He had won and lost more money, he thought, than Rockefeller had ever had in his accounts.

He wasn’t proud of his habit—he wouldn’t call it an addiction, not out loud, not to anyone else, not even to himself—but he wasn’t really ashamed, either. What was there to be ashamed of, really? It was a vice. He was in Hell. Everyone had at least one vice in Hell.

It’s funny, Alastor had once said, his eyes creased with mirth and his smile stretched near to the corners of his eyes, his usual malicious cruelty sharpened with intent as he stared at Husk without blinking.

Husk didn’t want to know, so he didn’t want to ask, but he knew the Radio Demon wouldn’t leave until he did. What is? he asked, putting every iota of how little he cared into those two words.

A gambling addict who works as a croupier, Alastor had answered with a laugh in his voice that was echoed by the distant ghosts of the live studio audience he carried with him everywhere. I have it on good authority that a drug dealer is expected not to rely so heavily on his own product.

Husk had snarled, which had done nothing, but he couldn’t have answered if he had wanted to. It was correct, after all, and Husk didn’t need Alastor to remind him of yet another way in which he was an idiot.

Because he knew. He had known when he was alive, and he had known after his death, too. It had been his entire existence, so much so that his body even took on attributes of the casino, and wasn’t that a reminder he didn’t need every time he looked in a mirror.

Everyone thought gambling was about winning. Whether it was Charlie trying to sus out if he was open to the group therapy sessions, or Angel Dust asking him why the hell he had kept playing after he lost, they all thought that winning was the point of gambling. You bet your money, you put it on red, the roulette favors you, and you walk away richer than you were when you sat down.

It wasn’t about winning. If it was, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to stop. It wasn’t about losing, either, though Husk had wondered if that was part of the problem in some of his lower and more pessimistic moments. No, gambling was about the moments that existed in between.

It lived in the way the dice rolled across the felt tabletop.

It lived in every tell of another player, every call and every raise, every new card dealt and every hand revealed.

It lived in the moments of the roulette wheel’s slowing momentum and the little ball searching for the pocket that would tell you if you won or if you lost.

Risk. That was what gambling was for: the thrill of the unknown, of taking a chance, of betting your rent or your food for the next week or even your fucking house on a game that could set you up for life and ruin you and you would never know which one it would be until you played. Husk had won, and he had lost, but every victory and every defeat was nothing but a little change in the long road that was the risk.

If Husk was honest with himself, he would have admitted that gambling was the only way he felt anything anymore.

Of course, Husk was never honest with himself.

The Hazbin Hotel was, for a multitude of reasons, somewhere safe for a sinner like him to set up shop. Vices were discouraged, and Charlie didn’t permit gambling for money, so the only gambling they ever did was to pawn their chores off on each other. It was almost like Alastor had done him a favor, dragging him through the ether by the throat and lashing him to the bar, even though Husk would chew his own wings off before admitting that. And the residents, too, were safe for one reason: they were predictable.

Alastor was volatile, of course, but Husk had known him for years and was fairly sure of the things that would set him off. He liked his creature comforts, he liked his schedules, and he didn’t like people disturbing his routines. Predictable.

Niffty, too, liked her routines, though they more manifested in the form of a regular rotation of cleaning duties and a fairly strict mealtime schedule that only grew erratic when someone else wanted to use her kitchen. Aside from inappropriate comments that could come from nowhere, she didn’t shift much, and she could usually be found stabbing bugs or cooking. Predictable.

Charlie made schedules for everyone constantly, always wanting to try new group building exercises and never springing unexpected surprises on them. She took everything in stride as best she could, and her meltdowns were always private and controlled. Predictable.

Vaggie was measured, strict, and always adhered to her own moral code. If something happened and it involved Charlie, she would be by the princess’s side throughout. If it did not involve Charlie, Vaggie probably didn’t care. Predictable.

Angel Dust was also volatile, of course, but it was always in the same way. He would get angry at any insult to his profession or anyone removing his indulgences, and everything else would be met with either vulgarity, sarcasm, or some combination of the two. Predictable.

Sir Pentious was paranoid and enthusiastic, quick to anger and always taking it out on his Egg Bois. He cried at the drop of a hat and seemed, even now, to really want to be an overlord despite the fact that he didn’t have the stomach for it and would always opt for a less violent option unless he was trying to impress someone. Predictable.

But the hotel had more foot traffic than simply the staff and their two residents, though most didn’t come through very often and few stayed for any length of time. Of course, among those few was Angel Dust’s best friend and supposed partner in crime, who was stopping by the hotel with increased frequency to check up on the spider demon and get into whatever else she could find while she was there.

Cherri Bomb.

Cherri Bomb was not predictable. Or, rather, she could be relied on to be unpredictable, if that made any kind of sense at all. No one, not even Angel Dust, seemed to have any sort of idea how her mood would hold up from minute to minute and what sort of erratic change might follow. She might stab someone over an insult one day and shrug the same words off the next. She might agree with you one minute and shout at you the next, even if you hadn’t changed what you said. If she stared at you with a stony gaze and invited you to keep making your point—always a threat, in Husk’s experience—you had no idea if she was furious, or if she would start laughing and inform you she was just fucking with you.

Husk had learned more about how they cussed in New Zealand in the past month than he had in the century he had existed, all of it from sarcastically calling Cherri Australian.

At first, he hadn’t known what to expect from her. She was hardly the first one to introduce herself to the hotel’s residents by blowing up a wall, so that wasn’t even notable, but everything else made her complicated in a way that Husk hadn’t let himself contemplate in a long time. For a while he was convinced that the issue, where she was concerned, was ensuring that no one did anything to set her off and create a chain reaction that would inevitably lead to more damage to the hotel. It wasn’t long before he realized the problem was that they couldn’t make that assurance.

Cherri’s presence in the hotel was unpredictable. It was a risk. And that made it exciting. The first time Husk had that realization, he had drunk an entire bottle of Alastor’s rye to drown the thought without care for the inevitable consequences.

It hadn’t worked, because the next morning, he had a headache that rivaled those from his youth and he was still just as confused and frustrated as he had been before.

Even though Cherri had declared that she was not, in any way, interested in redemption, that didn’t stop her from coming to the hotel with increased frequency. She would often leave to Angel Dust’s room and spend hours up there with the spider demon, but sometimes, the two of them would hang out at the bar. Husk served them drinks—Angel Dust his martinis according to the extremely strict regimen Charlie had set, Cherri vodka blushes and dishes of lime that she ate down to the rind—and listened to them as they talked about their nights out and Angel bitched about his job and Cherri occasionally mentioned someone named Izzi that she never dwelled on and neither of them seemed to like. Sometimes, Sir Pentious would discover that Cherri was in the hotel, and would proceed to make an ass out of himself before retreating into his basement to hide until she was gone.

Husk wondered if he should talk Pentious through a method of actually seducing Cherri, if he was that set on it. Maybe then Husk could stop thinking about… well. Anything else. Of course, Husk barely knew anything about actual seduction himself. He hadn’t been with anyone in decades, and before that, there had been less courting and more blunt sentences that led to one night stands with people whose names he didn’t remember because he hadn’t known them in the first place. Pentious was probably better off with his fumbling on his own than taking advice from Husk, because he was likely to get the snake slapped or worse.

The air was heavy with acid rain one evening as Husk took inventory at the bar. Even with so few residents, he found himself needing to take stock and submit orders to Charlie almost as much as he would have at an actual club; these sinners were clearly taking advantage of the fact that their livers couldn’t give out, and the princess wasn’t any better with her straight Mephistophelian absinthe shots. He was almost done when he heard someone pull out a bar stool, his left ear twitching when that someone sat and began patting their hands on the bar top. “Hold your horses,” he grumbled, doing math in his head as he wrote out the whisky order.

“Look at you, so responsible,” a familiar Kiwi-accented voice said, and Husk’s ears twitched again, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he simply tried to gauge Cherri’s mood without looking at her face. “You’re not closed?”

Husk shook his head. “Nah. I just do inventory while these assholes are otherwise engaged before Angel Dust can come along and start saying numbers at random. That wasn’t a suggestion,” he added firmly.

Cherri laughed, just a little. “Wouldn’t dream of throwin’ you off,” she said, so innocently that she wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was full of shit. After that, she went quiet, tapping away on her phone while waiting for Husk to finish his work.

The cat demon signed off on the order and ripped the page from the notepad, pinning it up for Vaggie to grab the next time she passed by. Husk then turned to Cherri, taking up a glass, some vodka, and a bottle of grenadine. “Angel snubbing you? I was pretty sure he came back from work.”

“Oh, he’s in his room,” Cherri said. “But he’s busy. Said I could either wait down here for him or go home.”

“Busy?” Husk echoed, frowning at her, before the light went off in his head. It didn’t help his frown. “Oh. Alastor.”

“Do you have any idea what they’re doing in there?”

“No idea,” Husk confessed, slicing up a large lime and making sure it hadn’t dried out. “Angel told me to mind my business, but I think they’re plotting something. At least, I hope they are, because anything else isn’t worth considering.”

“I don’t like him,” Cherri grumbled.

Husk smirked. “Get in line. Nobody does.” He pushed the drink and a plate of lime slices towards her. “I’m guessing you decided to wait.”

“Have you seen the weather?” Cherri snapped, gesturing sharply towards the nearest window. “You think I wanna melt my skin off?”

Husk felt the fur along his neck and the backs of his arms standing up a little. He didn’t know if that was a reflex on his part, or a response to the way the air began to smell like nitrate when Cherri got worked up. “I think you do whatever you feel like doing no matter what the weather is like.”

She stared at him for a moment before she smirked and picked up a lime slice. “Thanks,” she said, before biting into it and stripping the fruit cleanly from the rind. Her wince looked satisfied. “What do you do when the weather’s shit?”

“What I always do,” Husk said, returning to cleaning the outsides of all the liquor bottles, just in case of any alcohol on the necks. “Fuck all.”

“Do you ever leave?”

“Only under extreme duress.”

“That’s not healthy, Captain Buzzkill.” Cherri leaned on one elbow and twirled a bare lime rind between her fingers, her x-shaped pupil watching Husk contemplatively. He didn’t rise to the bait, just continuing his work and waiting her out. Finally, she said, “You should come out with me sometime.”

Husk snorted in mild amusement. “What would you want to hang out with an old curmudgeon for?”

Cherri shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno, because you could stand to loosen up and I have to deal with you every time I come here, so you might as well remember how to have some fun.”

“I don’t do fun.”

“You’re gonna.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at her and leaned one hand on the bar. “You plan to make me?”

Cherri grinned, all sharp teeth, but Husk wouldn’t have defined it as a smile. “If I have to.”

It was a surprise to both of them when Husk actually chuckled, the sound as low and rusty and unused as it was on every occasion he laughed, rare as they were. “I’d love to see that.”

Suddenly, Cherri’s expression turned serious. Suspicious, almost. “Are you hitting on me, Husk?”

Once again, the air immediately felt dangerous, and once again, Husk felt the fur on his neck standing up. Cherri wasn’t blinking, and she wasn’t speaking. Any answer he could give had the potential to offend her. Husk felt oddly exhilarated, hesitating long enough to savor the feeling that he was gambling something more vital than money. Finally, he admitted, “…frankly, I got no idea.”

Cherri’s brow furrowed over her eye, her lips pursing, before she burst into laughter that instantly destroyed the tension and told him he had won that hand. “Fuck, you’re funny,” she said in a voice that was almost fond. “Come on. Come out with me some night.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come on,” she wheedled.

“It’s the best you’re gonna get,” Husk warned, and she rolled her eye dramatically but seemed to drop it as she took up her drink. “You gonna drag me to some of those seedy dives you and Angel haunt?”

“Maybe,” Cherri said. If Husk was being generous to himself, he would call her tone flirtatious. “You’ll just have to take a chance.”

Husk found himself smiling, though why, he had no idea. “…well. That happens to be my specialty.”

-fin-

#hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin fanfic #cherri bomb #husk #casinobomb #my writing #fanfic

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