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#about to go to bed though

sweetashoneyhoney · 2 years

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Went to a friend's 21st and got tipsy off some yummy sangria. Went dancing and got up on stage in front of everyone. It was really fun :)

#my rambles #yes #i am currently slightly tipsy as I type this #about to go to bed though #my ears are still ringing from how loud the music was tho

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lolottes · 5 months

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Ida is Constantine's good ex.

They separated on good terms after a few months because Ida wanted to start a family and not Constantine (for obvious reasons). Then, despite Ida's efforts to keep in touch as a long-distance friend, she quickly no longer received any news from him.

So when she sees him barely older and seeming lost in his town… she takes him for a ghost who has retained a very human appearance. She rushes to him because she is surely not the only one to notice the presence of a “tourist” in town.

She takes a minute to pity him and apologize. He hadn't ignored him, he was dead!!! Then start explaining to him why as a ghost it's not safe for him here even though it's very nice of him to visit <3

Constantine had not informed Ida about magic, after all it was one of his exes from before his cancer (a little near the time when he stopped responding to her) and his first triple sale of soul for escape death. But he knows Ida well enough not to contradict her. In addition, she gives him all the information in flash notes that he is looking for.

…

Okay, he also missed Ida. It felt SO strange to see her old. But she apparently hadn't lost anything from a mental point of view

This is how Constantine was invited to have tea and catch up on lost time at Ida's in addition to having a more complete debrief of the Amity Park situation

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #ida manson #john constantine #amity park #I didn't write it but I'm not sure that Ida would be against going to bed with a ghost #after that I'm not sure on Constantine's side #Constantine doesn't have the heart to tell Ida that he was alive all the time #but that he had been so caught up in the magic tricks to dodge his cancer that he had completely skipped it #and even after n 'never thought about contacting her again #even though she's one of if not the friendliest ex of all.#if he had done it or at least talked to her about magic and his survival #maybe she would have contacted him before the situation got to this point #seriously there is a government agency that wants to start a dimensional war and a couple mad scientists far too intelligent for the good #ida becoming a JLD contact? more likely than you think #my #my prompts #prompt

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silverskye13 · 2 months

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random thought, but i had a vivid image of, if helsknight and welsknight ever saw each other without armor (or just helsknight out of his armor tbh), helsknight showing welsknight the scar tanguish gave him and saying "this was intended for you."

i don't know how in character that is, but tbh it's haunting me. maybe it's part of helsknight's revenge against welsknight or something, calling out his unknightly behavior and unhonorable conduct.

"You didn't answer my summons."

Helsknight froze. It was a quick, momentary startle, a short-circuit of normality. The moment he did it, every instinct told him to keep moving. That old command [Do something.] blared loud in the quiet surprise of his mind. So he moved his hand to pick up the brush on his table, and pretended to be unconcerned.

"I'm not a dog. You can't call me to heel," Helsknight said simply. He smirked and growled, "Though if you feel like losing some limbs, feel free to try."

Behind him, Wels shifted uncomfortably. Helsknight liked making Wels uncomfortable, he didn't handle it well. He was a creature used to comfort and ease. Inconvenience often galled him more than a sword to the throat. Different tactics for different battlefields, and this battlefield was a delicate one.

Helsknight was cleaning his arms and armor, which was one of several reasons why he hasn't leaped for a fight when Welsknight had called him to one. He was only in a tunic and breeches. It was luck he even had his boots on. He had offered to run errands with Tanguish, but Tanguish had said he was visiting his church and wanted to go on rooftops. So Helsknight stayed home, and he left his boots on. That was the other reason Helsknight hadn't answered the call: Tanguish wouldn't know where he was, and he knew Tanguish got paranoid about being left behind. Besides, Helsknight had chores he could do at home [like cleaning his arms and armor] so he stayed. Cleaning the chainmail was almost a formality. Hels was hot and dry, and he wore it often enough that the rings clattering together cleaned themselves. But sometimes he just liked putting an extra shine on things, so he took out his brush and oil and started brushing it down for any miniscule specks of rust or broken links he could find.

Wels, always keen on the times he wasn't wanted, decided now was the perfect time to show up in his living room. He stood awkwardly, waiting on Helsknight to make some aggressive movement. When none came, he cautiously stalked further into the tiny living space. His emotions were loud and uncomfortable without the distance between their respective worlds to dampen them, and they clung like smoke against Helsknight's skin. Caution at an unfamiliar space. Disgruntlement at being ignored.

[Guilt, like ash on a burn.]

"Is this... Yours?" Wels asked, glancing around.

"No, I'm just squatting in a random house. Sounded like a fun way to spend a Tuesday."

Helsknight felt the ant-bite sting of vicarious agitation and smirked. He was already getting on Wels's nerves.

[Good.]

"Couldn't build something nicer?" Wels snapped impatiently.

"I'm a fighter."

Helsknight found a place on his chainmail to brush down and got to work. The rough, grating twinge of the coarse bristles on chain made Wels wince. Helsknight always found the noise pleasant. Like scratching an itch.

"So?"

"I have better things to do than spend hours building the perfect house."

Wels scoffed and looked around the room with renewed disdain. "Where's your little devil?"

It took Helsknight a moment to place what he was asking. He sneered, a quiet bearing of teeth, and caught the flicker of red in the reflective shine of his chainmail. Wels looked pointedly away from him.

[Like ash on a burn.]

"Not feeling remorse... are we, crusader?" Helsknight asked, finding a new place to polish. The coin-drop clatter of chain, and the shrill scrape of bristles filled the silence like an accusation.

"Of course not," Wels sniffed disdainfully, still refusing to meet Helsknight's eye.

"Careful." Helsknight murmured, that red flash reflecting off his chainmail again, anger simmering. "Lying's a sin."

"Why would I feel remorse for protecting my home?"

"A crusade well fought I'm sure."

"It's not a crusade!" Wels snapped, his own anger a living thing raising hackles. "A crusader invades! A crusader fights a holy war just for the principle."

"Right. And you're fighting because--"

"Because I'm protecting Tango."

"-because it's for his own good?"

Wels didn't exactly wince, but he did still, as though he'd heard someone draw a blade from its scabbard. Helsknight might as well have unseated his sword. He had stopped scrubbing, all pretense of work falling. The need to pace, to circle, to corner, rose up in Helsknight like a waking beast.

"Interesting choice of words. Protecting." Helsknight said, his voice low, his hands still. "I was under the impression they were friends. Do you often protect Tango from the people he's begging you to spare?"

"That doesn't matter." Wels said so firmly it was almost convincing. Almost. "People are convinced they need an abusive relationship. That doesn't change the fact it's bad for them."

"So many interesting words today," Helsknight hissed. He stood like a dark tower rising, all embered fury slowly stoking. Wels didn't bother turning to face him. He could feel his intent like thunder. "Abuse. Brings to mind the image of power. I do have a question."

"I didn't come here for your stupid questions."

"No, you came here looking for a fight."

"I didn't."

"You really do need to tame that lying tongue."

"I didn't come here for a fight."

"Did it feel powerful?" Helsknight demanded, pacing a step, and loathing the tiny room for denying him the space to circle. "The voice. The command. How did it feel."

"Shut up."

"To have someone begging you not to hurt them," Helsknight continued relentlessly. "Not your stupid play fighting on your stupid little server. True, shaking, terror. Did it feel good, crusader? Just?"

"I told you to shut up!" Wels shouted, taking a threatening step forward only to find Helsknight had closed the space between them and stood looming like a rook on a tombstone.

Fear, a caged thing howling, battered against Helsknight's anger. It made Helsknight feel almost giddy, the crash of malicious schadenfreude and self-righteousness against Wels; a flickering thing of brittle will. They made a terrible ouroboros together, fear feeding anger feeding elation feeding fear. They were always like this. No matter how calm either of them tried to be, once anger kindled in one, their emotions burned until there was nothing left but fury and loathing. Helsknight had been made to cut Wels down to size.

"Do you know what that kind of fear does to people?" Helsknight demanded again, his voice so near a whisper it was smothering. They were so close together, but they made so little noise, all will and wide eyes. "What happened to mercy for the helpless, crusader?"

"He wasn't helpless," Welsknight said, trying very hard not to back down. "He stabbed me."

"And a drowning rat bites. I wouldn't call it an apex predator. Certainly I wouldn't call it a danger to you, with your full armor and sword." Helsknight bared his teeth at Wels, something like a bitter grin. "I wasn't wearing armor."

Wels looked down, where Helsknight had drawn up his tunic to reveal the new scar in his abdomen. Wels looked like he'd stopped breathing.

"This was intended for you," Helsknight said. "You should thank me."

"You're-- you're here telling me he's harmless," Wels laughed nervously. "But he almost killed you. You."

Something in Helsknight snapped, and in the moment it took him to reach for it with white knuckles and compose it again, he'd shoved Wels hard in the chest. It didn't knock his other half off his feet, but he stumbled back hard enough hit the opposite wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to warn.

"He did," Helsknight snarled, pacing forward slow steps. "That's what terror does to helpless people, crusader. It makes them bite. It makes them beg. It makes them clamor to live. You. Did. That. What did it feel like to abuse that kind of power Wels? To turn someone into a scared animal? To make someone so desperate they would almost kill a friend? Did you find your righteousness there crusader?"

Helsknight didn't know what he planned on doing. Violence was in his blood like a serpent, and he wanted it. And Wels knew he wanted it. There was the ring of drawn metal, and the silver-bright glint of an enchanted blade in a dark room. Helsknight's advance stopped at the top of Wels's sword, not close enough to hurt, but close enough to warn.

"Stop." Wels said. A command. A plea.

"I'm unarmed."

"That doesn't matter."

Helsknight smiled, and there was loathing and euphoria in it, and the wine-dark dread of Wels right on the other side of it. The knowledge of a line crossed, a battle he hadn't even realized he was fighting made forfeit.

"Fine." Helsknight said. "My blood's already been spilled once on your behalf. At least this time do it with your own sword, coward. I'll make it easy for you."

He took a step forward, and nudged the blade with a knuckle, resting the point against his scar. The metal was cold, even through his shirt, the enchantments alive and writhing so close to his skin.

"How cruel have you gotten while I wasn't there to keep you in check, crusader?"

There was a long breath of silence between them. Helsknight stood, precarious and predatory, daring Wels to kill him. And Wels stood there, and dared himself to as well. And the room was dark, lit only by red anger and blue dread, and the pale, languid flicker of enchanted steel. And neither of them breathed. And the universe watched.

A loud clatter sounded on the roof. Both knights looked up towards the ceiling, Wels in startlement, and Helsknight in resignation.

"And he stays my hand once again," Helsknight sighed.

"What--?" Wels didn't get his full question out before Helsknight moved. He knocked the sword aside and lunged forward to grab Wels's shirt. In a move that would've made Martyn proud, he dragged Wels forward into his knee, knocking the wind out of him. In the time it took Wels to collapse to the floor, Helsknight had taken his sword, and held the point beneath his other half's chin.

"Go home Wels," Helsknight said, "before I send you there the hard way."

Wels, breathless on the ground, let out half a strangled laugh. "Why don't you?"

"Because I was asked nicely not to go running off and killing you."

"Helsknight?" A loud knock sounded at the door. Tanguish's voice, a bright comfort even in spite of its concern, called to him. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard something fall."

Helsknight glared meaningfully down at Wels, who only hesitated long enough for Helsknight to draw back the sword before slipping back to his world. The moment he did, Helsknight felt his breath leave him, the great void of being left to his own thoughts and emotions. In the wake of everything that was Wels, he felt ridiculous.

[What in hels had he even been about to do? Die on someone's sword to prove a point? Idiot.]

"Helsknight? The door is locked."

"I'm coming," Helsknight called, pausing only long enough to hide Wels's sword beneath the couch, where Tanguish couldn't see it and inevitably worried about it. He checked his tunic to make sure he hadn't managed to actually stab himself [he hadn't] and went to let Tanguish inside.

#rns ficlets #helsknight #welsknight #tanguish (kinda)#this one feels very dense and dramatic #i feel like wels actively seeks out hels when he feels guilty / bad / self loathing #its like a compulsion: punishing yourself because you did wrong #even though its ultimately unproductive #also something something helsknight making some kind of point about how #instilling terror in something to confirm your bias that its dangerous #is more even than the terrified thing causing harm #case and point i scared you into drawing your sword on an unarmed man #i dont know im tired and that was a really badass phrase to just drop on me anon #*evil not even alskdjfjf im going to bed

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uncanny-tranny · 7 months

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The most fulfilling thing about art (and why I'm so passionate about it as a concept) is just knowing that this is a piece of you entering this world and being born, and it's as imperfect, messy, and human as you are.

Like, this is my first single crochet, and look at it!

It's lumpy and not even whatsoever, but that came out of my hands. It is, essentially, not unlike a toddler who has just learned to walk with uneasy legs. Would you punish a toddler for toddling, for being unsteady and unrefined? Then why is it that we must punish ourselves for being in what is essentially that same state? Create, even if you cannot run with it. You can still walk with it. You can still crawl with it. But, create

#art #crochet #described images #image description in alt #a lovely lovely crochet youtuber helped me by uploading a video too (it was overwhelming to watch her crochet with me though)#i am going to be so mentally ill about this by the way #i wish i hadn't picked up this acrylic yarn but i got it because it was yellow and so bright and happy-looking #plus it's one of those yarns that come in the huuuuge skeins #my grandma had so many of those skeins and they always fascinated me #this isn't my first time picking up a crochet hook and crocheting but this is my first actual single crochet #whereas i always stopped at a chain #i always talk about how important all of this is but it still feels vulnerable #i was in So Much Pain sitting on my bed to do this 😭

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comfortless · 2 months

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Im exhausted and have come to the conclusion that sleepy cuddles with könig would cure me

there is something about fluffy scenarios with König that activates an otherworldly emotion in me.

König is probably exhausted when he does finally come home from leave: all of the adrenaline finally out of his system and all he wants is to carry you off to bed for a while. There’s no real reason why he even invested in that massive mattress and bed frame, because he curls into you so tightly most of the room is entirely unused. He could fall asleep in minutes cozied up with you, would sooner die than go without listening to your voice prattle on about what you’ve done, made, or saw while he was away. He wants to know everything while he perches his chin on your shoulder, one arm beneath your back and the other curled over your middle.

He would tell you rather candidly what he’s been up to, too, about how he had to buy a new pair of boots or a vest because there’s just no getting the stains out this time, bluntly tells you how terribly he’s missed you and what he’s had to do to push those thoughts away because he may have just convinced himself to go awol and return to you otherwise. The short conversations during the weeks he’s been away just have not been enough. He wants to consume you in the most benevolent way: breathe in your hair and bask in the floral scent of your conditioner, press kiss after kiss to each inch of exposed skin, squeeze you tighter than what would be comfortable just to hear you squeak and feel how you inevitably begin to relax with him, grapple on to each word you speak and watch you with rapt attention because my god - this is all he’s ever wanted.

To have someone with him like this, telling him that they’ve missed him too, that they love him… returning his affection with slow nuzzles and soft kisses, quiet laughter as you pull a blanket over the both of you and twist around on your side to be nearer to him. When you both go quiet and you begin to hear his soft snoring, it’s almost a comfort in itself. He’s home, comfortable, and so very in love… how could you not just want to admire him for a little longer? Give him a kiss on the cheek just to hear him mumble some little pet name in his sleep as he pulls you in closer.

In the morning, when you find your legs tangled and his head on your chest, you drowsily ask him what he wants for breakfast or if he would like for you to ready the coffee pot. König would only tell you to order in something, you’re going to be here for a while.

#god forbid you let him sleep on his side too long though because the SNORK MIMIMIs Kö would be capable of are deafening…#worst part about him coming home? the next night you’re battling crumbs in the bed because all this guy is going to want to do is cuddle #& get intimate for a solid 24 hours. /: breaks for eating just mean being tucked beside him to talk or watch a film!

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greghatecrimes · 5 months

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something something, in lockdown we find out that thirteen and her dad aren't close. we know he loved her, but probably didn't understand her personality or how to help her cope with her mom's death, the possibility of her having huntington's, her brother's diagnosis... so she's sort of alone. for years. and then, after so long without having anyone besides her brother who really gets her, she meets house. house, who sees all of her and understands her better than anyone else in her life. and who, when faced with thirteen crumbling to pieces, didn't back away or stay silent in confusion. no; he loved her. he loved her in the very best and greatest way anyone could have ever loved her. ("i'll kill you. when the time comes. if you want me to.")

#okay i'm going to go cry now i have so many feelings about them #girl who is totally normal about them #i actually made myself cry with this one #i think it's time for bed #house md #greg house #remy thirteen hadley #love is a doing word #love is going to lead you by the hand #and though my hands are much too small to hold you up/i will be there to pick up the pieces/keep you housed while you bend them up

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