#legal woes || writings

[pomogando]

darkheart x reader fluff

pelase PLEASE

Melatonin

A Darkheart x reader

Darkheart wants to try sleeping, but you're busy.

No content warnings, comfort and fluff. Not much to say here. Sappy warning !!!!!!!

1300+ words, oneshot, romantic

Rain tapped the glass in a soothing lullaby. You yawned, the computer screen a harsh contrast to the beautiful night. You have been working on this report since the morning. It was dark now. Winter always made the days feel shorter, or maybe it's just that you didn't have as much time as you thought.

You let out a cry of annoyance as you stared at your unfinished draft. Causing your shadow to chuckle as it wrapped its hands around you, a gentleness you wouldn't have thought possible for Darkheart. He was careful, clawed hands that treated you like porcelain. As if one scratch was just too much to risk.

He laid his head on top of yours, and you sighed as you felt yourself start to relax. The chaos deity had a calming presence unlike any other.

You got used to him appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

A frail but stubborn wing wrapped around you, Darkheart had been awfully clingy recently, not leaving your side for a second. You knew the reason, of course. He disappeared for a month on short notice. It wasn't the first time he had done that, and it's not something you could hold against him. Darkheart never told you exactly what he did, and that was fine. You just wish he stayed with you longer.

You were good at pretending his infrequent visits that had unfortunately become common didn't bother you.

You stared blankly at the meaningless words on your screen. A finger playfully poking your nose snapped you out of your boredom induced trance. His hands were cold.

"I'm busy, love." You mumbled, absent-minded, exhausted, bored. "Can't you wait till after I'm done to mess around?"

He giggled, and his laugh had a threatening aura to it. You remember it used to make you feel unnerved, but not anymore. It was charming in its own right despite the way it made others shiver.

"Why wait? Time is fleeting for you." They moved their free hand to pull on your cheek, making you groan in annoyance. He had been getting more touchy, as if he didn't want to be apart from you for one second. "Mortals are so curious.. spending your little life on menial, boring, repetitive tasks." He looked over your shoulder at your computer, studying the screen.

"It's not... well." You cut yourself off with a huff. You felt the need to explain how journalism wasn't boring, but at this time, you couldn't help but agree. You wrapped your hand around his, squeezing it gently before, hesitantly, letting go. It was comforting for the small moment it lasted.

"We don't think you mind as much as you're saying, anyhow." Darkheart hummed, cutting off your thoughts. You felt his hand brush against yours for a moment, but you moved it away to type. His firm smile seemed to falter, but only slightly. You might've not even noticed if you weren't paying attention.

"I needed this done by yesterday." You yawned, clearly uninterested in the gossip piece assigned to you. If you were, you would've had it done already.

"It is quite late for you, don't you think?" He pouted. "When was the last time you slept? We recall it wasn't yesterday."

"If I don't complete this, my boss will probably yell at me. I can't lose this job." You mumbled, you had almost forgotten, darkheart wanted to sleep with you. He had become curious about sleeping after you had fallen asleep near him way more than once. He wasn't even sure if he could sleep in the first place. He never tried. He didn't need to. You looked back at the screen, feeling a bit guilty for a reason you didn't understand.

"We will stay by your side until you're finished." It wasn't really a proposal more than it was him stating his intentions. You felt his arms wrap back around you, and his wing fluttered softly. He was anything if not stubborn, probably making sure you don't stay up all night.

Darkheart was practically attached to your hip. You appreciated his gesture, more than he would ever understand, but it was hard to work when he was watching your every click. He had an aura that always made you want to ignore your responsibilities and just lay in his arms. That was something he encouraged, unfortunately for your productivity.

To Darkheart, the work you were doing seemed like meaningless garble. Garble that he did not care to understand. "Maybe when I'm done, we can lay down together." You say nonchalantly, still looking at your screen. "I'm almost done anyways." You lied, but it was more for yourself than Darkheart. He seemed pleased by your lie, humming as his wing fluttered in delight. His grin widened.

You had to admit that you were stalling at this point, not wanting to look at the open word document. You hesitantly looked away from Darkheart.

So, for an excruciatingly long time, you sat at your desk. You stared at your screen. You typed meaningless text.

Your fingers are against the keyboard. You started to feel fatigue setting in at full force. At some point, you weren't sure if you were typing actual words at this point. You weren't sure what you were even writing about. It was about an actor, right? One whose name you didn't care to remember the name of. You wonder if Darkheart had thought about you while he was gone. Whatever it was that he went to do.

Your fingers were against the keyboard. Your eyelids got heavy as your keyboard clicked. The sound almost became like a lullaby. You weren't writing actual words anymore. You weren't writing at all, actually. Just staring at the screen. It looked like a blur of black and white. You could still hear the lullaby. It wasn't the computer

Your head started to lean against the keyboard. You heard Darkheart say something you didn't entirely understand. The lullaby paused. It felt like your fatigue from the last few days had completely overwhelmed you all at once. The keyboard had started to feel as soft as a pillow. "I'll just rest for a second before continuing.." you said, half asleep.

You heard an annoyed huff right before cold hands gently picked you up. Your exhausted body relaxed almost immediately. You should've finished the paper, but a part of you didn't care enough to. Not that he would've let you go in the first place, nor would you have typed anything.

"We were getting a bit impatient." Darkheart sighed. "We waited quite a while to see you, just let us be with you." You were half asleep, only seeing the sharp green glow of his eyes as he laid you on the bed. The bed felt the same as it always had, but when he pulled you into his arms, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. He held onto you tightly as if you hadn't seen each other in years. A clawed hand reaching to move a strand of hair out of your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him. He loved you. He wasn't like you in any way, but he loved you. Everything you did down to your breathing. Enamored by your laugh and smile. You were mortal, easily hurt. He wanted you to be by his side for eternity. How could someone like you be only mortal when you were so much more?

"I love you, I'm sorry." You mumbled, relaxing in his arms, neither of you were sure what you were apologizing for.

"We're sorry too."

You felt a pleasant rumble come from Darkhearts chest, similar to a cat purring. It felt nice. His embrace was all you wanted. Your warmth was all he wanted. You felt your eyes close, hearing the lullaby again.

The paper could wait, or maybe you'd just never do it. It didn't matter, you had eternity.

#legal woes || phighting #legal woes || writings #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting! #darkheart #darkheart x reader #creds to cafekitsune for banners!! very nice ones ^^

[scoundrels-in-love]

Opening commissions!

My financial situation is rough these days and it is likely to only worsen once I quit my job in little over a month, so I've decided to give this a try.

If you'd like to support me, I am offering to write a fic or ficlet for a ship (Mashwood or individual pairings within those parameters, preferably) and concept/prompt of your choosing in return.

I know I've not been posting much, but I am on a mend after my mental breakdown last week and the torturous, slow slide toward it over past several months, so, the writing is coming back to me. I also promise to give your prompts priority over my own idling ideas.

(Of course, if I reblog prompt list asking for prompts, you can just send your ideas in!)

My Ko-Fi.

#rainy rambles #life woes #rainy writes stuff for YOU #yes I am aware this is ah complicated from legal aspects #I will not bring this up on AO3

[bellshazes]

Ive known this for a while but after an 11 hour in person day with my team I think I have to start writing that Systems of Care For the Common Man series I keep dreaming of. Because the only way out is through, together.

#I just have to intimately know everything about the legal educational medical economic social racial psychological grassroots advocacy syst #*systems. In all 50 states and compare internationally as well #And write it for the layperson. It will take the rest of my life #But i think i have to do it. I really cant live with myself unless i do it #Work woes

[silencedmoths-a]

sorry guys lately i’ve been feeling very unmotivated to do pretty much anything. i miss writing though and will hopefully be back soon

#i just am depressed but also living life kind of #idk #not to sound all boohoo woe is me but lately i just feel like nobody is too thrilled abt writing w me anyways but #i’m legally paranoid! OFJDHSJF so that could be it

[pashfoxx]

I can't get this idea of the Marauders x Spider-Man out of my head, so I started writing a bit about the background of each of the Marauders in this AU.

So in this AU, Hogwarts is like Brooklyn Visions Academy, the only difference being that it's located in London and the students are still divided into houses, but it's more like which dormitory sector you belong to and, ultimately, they're not taken as seriously as in canon.

Peter: He's an only child, his father is a paramedic and his mother is a nurse. Due to his parents' shifts, he's somewhat used to taking care of himself. He attends Hogwarts on a scholarship, although he always struggles to maintain good grades and not lose the scholarship. He suffers quite a bit when it comes to balancing his grades and his life as Spider-Man. He's quite close to his parents and his father's death really affected him a lot. After this, he became quite close to Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, often turning to them for advice. He's a bit afraid of Professor McGonagall.

James: Like Peter, he's an only child and his parents are quite old. Because of that, he's quite spoiled, but he adores his parents, and woe to the person who insults either of them because James Potter isn't afraid to hit someone. He's the captain of the Hogwarts hockey team. His family is extremely wealthy, so he's always attended private schools and has no problem spending money on gifts for his friends. He's Professor McGonagall's favorite, as he's the best student in his class and has ensured that Hogwarts hasn't lost a match in the last two years.

Remus: Like the other two, he's an only child. I didn't want to completely ignore Remus's lycanthropy, so I decided to make him a mutant. He can control the transformation, but it's quite difficult for him to do so during full moon nights, so he simply opts to spend them as a wolf. He still has scars, but they're from when he was attacked by Fenrir Greyback (who is also a mutant in this AU). Remus managed to defend himself, and that's when he discovered he was a mutant. Lyall Lupin has made a great effort to change his beliefs about mutants since discovering his son was one. Now he and Remus are quite close. Likewise, Remus couldn't ask for a better mother than Hope Lupin. Like Peter, he has a scholarship, and thanks to it, his family can afford to send him to a school like Hogwarts, as Lyall Lupin is a police officer and Hope Lupin works in a bookstore, so they don't have money to spare like James and Sirius.

Sirius: He's a special case. Like in canon, he didn't have a good relationship with his family. For that reason, he likes attending Hogwarts because it allows him to be away from his family for much of the year. Initially, when he and Regulus started attending Hogwarts, they were quite close, but they started to drift apart over the years. Finally, when he turned 15 (about 6 months after Peter became Spider-Man), he ran away from home and lived with the Potters for a while until his uncle Alphard Black managed to become his legal guardian. Sirius goes to therapy once a week, but he's managing quite well. Alphard is also trying to get custody of Regulus, but it's not easy, as the Black family is quite wealthy and probably has the best lawyers in England.

#marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #good peter pettigrew #spider man #spider man au #marvel #harry potter au #harry potter #marauders au #marauders era

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

number 2!!

So the reader is ftm, and Eddie is obsessed with his voice (he's a singer) his voice is like a destroy boys / destructo disk type.

And Eddie is head over heals when he sings. and even more when he gets m/n to moan.

and if you're comfortable, can you do a kinda heavy make out?

Thanks! (Drink water or I will make you :) )

Hi! Thanks for your patience while I worked on this! Hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Trans Male Reader

CW: Smut adjacent, nothing explicit.

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_______________________________________________________________

It’s not that Eddie’s angry if what he’s heard is true. In fact, he’d be fucking glad that there is another band in town. But it is nerve wracking. Will these newcomers somehow get faster traction than Corroded Coffin? Will they have to struggle just like they did? Part of Eddie hopes this band is not struggling as much as they did, but something like jealousy that Eddie wishes he doesn’t feel is the hardest part to get rid of. 

So on Wednesday, during the evening when Eddie normally would be trying to bury the woes, he travels to The Hideout. The trip is truly speared by the necessity of making sure the band gets paid. After the Tuesday gig, the manager asked if Eddie could come tomorrow to get the cash considering they’d done a bank drop earlier than they normally did but had to after a pretty hefty weekend of festivities. Eddie’s not sure what could’ve caused in a town like Hawkins but he wasn’t going to argue with the one revenue stream that was legal. 

Thus landing Eddie here, leaning into the corner of the bar, watching the band play. It’s not metal--decidedly not, but Eddie still finds his head bobbing along to the hefty and heavy hats of the drums as the singer screams into the microphone, “Is this all I’ve ever known?” 

It’s punk, a music genre Eddie knew of and listened to occasionally even if it wasn’t what he gravitated too. He’d hoped for this band's sake that soon the genre would have its moment. It felt timely, a reflection of the shit state of the world and demanding change. Where Eddie’s genre of choice was all about escaping and finding some fantastical way out of the misery, this bank charged the misery head on. 

“Now I’m crying in a bathroom stall,” the singer croons, a layered haircut bouncing along the side of their face. The ends are flipped out, framing the round face in a way that reads like a warning but also lures Eddie in. All he wants to do is to know the way the rosy cheeks feel under his palm. The voice is definitely singing, but it’s almost mocking as they speak sing some of the lyrics. Eddie’s spine shivers. 

Instantaneous as the thought of the sweaty cheeks comes Eddie shakes his head, trying to keep in mind that he is here to get paid from yesterday. But the lead singer’s voice invades Eddie’s brain. He has a feeling as the manager hands over bills and Eddie stuffs it into his pocket, that he’s going to be hanging around The Hideout a lot more often in the middle of the week. 

After three weeks straight of attending the Wednesday shows, the lead singer seems to approach Eddie head on, though Eddie’s been one to always linger at the bar. “You play on Tuesdays right?” 

Eddie nods. “Yeah. You all sound amazing by the way. Like really good.” It should come out with a bit more shame and a bit more reservation. But the praise is all to easy to give because each time Eddie hears the band, the more he falls in love with them. 

“Th-thanks. You and your band sound great too.”

“Would-would you like to go out sometime?” Eddie asks. “I’d like to get you know you more.” He’s being way more suave about this than he’d ever imagine himself to be. But maybe it’s the setting. It’s not school and he’s not dealing with someone that might even have some pre-conceived notion about him, or be trying to get a story to tell a friend about how they kissed, slept with, or even hung out with The Freak. It’s a bar--two social outcasts who are doing everything they can to let the world know the wrongs it’s committed. It’s just easier because here, there’s no real judgment. 

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?”

It’s a simple question. And the response is less simple, less smooth, because if Eddie’s is honest he anticipated not getting this far. But even though he fumbles through his response, it lands him here, listening through the closed bathroom door as you hum from the otherside. You’d been working on some lyrics for a new song for a week now, singing the chorus of it ever and over throughout the trailer. Washing dishes--you were singing. Taking a quick smoke break--singing. 

The sink runs for almost a minute before the door handle creaks with the twist and it opens to reveal a goofy smile on Eddie’s face. “Were you listening to me piss?” you ask. 

“Listening to you sing, more specifically. The pee was just a byproduct.”

“Weirdo,” you laugh and step around him to head to his room. 

“It’s not my fault that you have a voice that calls out to me like a siren. Really it’s your fault.” 

He follows behind you to his room. You settle at his desk and Eddie falls onto the bed behind you. Where you’d normally have a response, your focus zeros in on the notebook in front of you. Eddie watches the way the line of your shoulders tense up. He pushes up, hands taking the meat of your shoulders into his palms. He wastes no time in kneading at them. 

“You’re thinking too hard about it.” Eddie trails his lips closer to your ear. They brush a kiss to shell and then down your neck.  “Let me help you relax.”

You sigh into the feeling of Eddie’s hands and lips at your neck and shoulders. The song did need to be done by the weekend for rehearsals. But you’d managed to get more done than you thought you would consider the difficulty that it was giving you earlier. Maybe it wouldn’t at all be a bad idea. “You’re lucky I like you,” you tease. 

Eddie’s hands slide down from your shoulders to your back, pressing right above your hips firmly. The action makes you groan--mostly involuntarily, as you hadn’t even noticed how much tension you’d been putting on your lower back. His fingers knead at your body and every moan that you let slip through your lips makes Eddie purr into your skin. 

If it weren’t for the back of the chair, you’re sure Eddie’s crotch would be pressed into your spine and you’d inevitably feel the growing erection. You only let it go for another minute or two before you reach back for his hands. He pauses at the light hold of your wrist. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head before pushing up from the chair. “No, just want you closer,” you whisper as you press into his chest. 

Eddie dips his head, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hold is gentle around your waist, fingers hardly pressing into the hot flesh under the sweatshirt. Your head grows a little dizzy with the feeling of his tender trace. The parting of your lips echoes in the room before you two meet again for another kiss. A grunt falls from Eddie as you push him down onto the bed and you land squarely on his lap, not hiding the sigh at the feeling of his erection pressing up into you. 

Though you two hadn’t gone as far to have sex just yet, only being a few months total into the relationship, it still pleased you to know you had this kind of effect on Eddie. He laughs as you rock your hips against his. “Don’t,” he hums. “I know you’re sick and demented and you get pleasure from making me puddy.”

You grin. “Which is why I do it.”

Eddie squeezes at your sides, his hands never go higher than your stomach and you’re thankful that he seems to be aware of how at times your chest causes you discomfort, but right now, you don’t mind his searing touch, so you guide Eddie’s hands up and when his fingers brush over your chest and nipples, your throat loses the battle of suppressing the moan. 

Eddie drops his head a little, listening to the sound of your pleasure rolling around his brain. “God I love that sound,” he whispers into your throat. His lips kiss square in the middle, tongue falling the pressing of his kiss. “I love it so fucking much.”

You release another one, fingers gripping at Eddie’s shoulders to keep you steady. “Please.”

It’s a plea, Eddie knows that. For what? Not even you can tell, but Eddie drops his hands to your thighs getting a tight grip and then tosses you into the pillows. His crawl up your body is slow and tortuous but when his hands finally settle against, holding your waist and his lips seal around yours, you hum at the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. 

“Thank you,” you exhale as Eddie moves his kisses down your jaw.

“Any time, baby,” he whispers back. His teeth trace the bone of your chin before he trails his tongue back down over your throat. Your moan comes out shaky. “Any fucking time.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut adjacent #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x trans male reader #eddie munson x trans reader #h writes #stranger things

[pixyys]

— saccharine.

chuuya x lawyer! reader; part 2 of this.

you finally fulfill that wishful promise.

notes/ warnings. you're basically ada's legal advisor with an ability to read minds; suggestive? kinda? idk how to write suggestive lmao

❝ to be able to hear people's minds is both a blessing and a curse. the burden of the all-knowing can be a heavy one to bear. when they become too heavy, you find yourself nursing another glass of liquor with a company you never imagined to have.❞

it was during one of those times when the world is being too rough on you, during one of the many indulgent nights when you rendezvous with the unconventional companionship you made on fate's pure chance. it started with a wishful promise, but by now, you've lost count of how many nights you exchange wine and woes with the renowned nakahara chuuya.

"what is it?" he half-scoffs, sharp grey eyes looking up from the burgundy swirl in his clear glass. "regret hangin' 'round with some mafia grunt now?"

you simply raise your head, returning his gaze in full. under the warm lighting and silent ambiance of the less dimly-lit bar, his locks seem to glow golden, his skin tainted by the inciting color of your favorite sweet wine- sauvignon blanc. the very same wine marking your acquaintance with the 'mafia grunt'—yeah right—has become your favorite, sinful indulgence to drown into.

you sometimes wonder if the company of the man sitting beside you is just as much of a sinful indulgence as the liquor lingering on your lips.

(you sometimes wonder if he would taste as sweet on your lips, enough to drown the bitterness in your heart).

"-hey, you there?" 

"no." you acknowledge, forcing your eyes back to the rim of your glass.

"and i do have regrets, in a way."

you came here to momentarily forget your problems and concerns, not to add more to your pile. but what did you do? you chose to sit with an executive of an enemy organization. an important figure who could take the life out of you like candy from a baby; an important figure whose sensitive information stored in his brain is within the same grasp as the glass in your hand.

then, why are you both here? well, screw logic. 

no one knows how that pretty little head of his works. but you wouldn't, you couldn't do whatever your filthy ability allows you to. not when you can't even meet him in the eyes. not when every time you see such eyes —by the gods, they're starting to look like those same unguarded, trusting eyes you grow to dislike—your ability suddenly becomes a curse, condemning you to an inevitable fate of a traitor. a liar. a dirty, lowly liar who is afraid to face the truth, who runs from the problems they caused. you wonder, what would that dead client you failed to save think from the heavens as he looks on you, or what has become of yet another stressed student and worker with suicidal thoughts you overhear on the streets.

you raise your glass to down the fire water. hoping desperately for its warmth to burn away your sorrow. 

it doesn't.

your companion sighs.

"i'm not gonna get involved if you end up drunk stupid."

"too bad," you croak, reaching for another shot. "i'm intending to do exactly that."

the clock ticks. the smooth liquor trails down your throat like molten gold. but your heart—your heart remains terribly bitter and tepid tonight. your sight blurs, your head floats above the clouds. but why is it that your guilt remains like a horrible, persistent gunshot wound?

"ugh-" you slur, swaying in your seat.

"oh great, you're out already." 

"isssnot working!-"

"what-"

"maybe i really should just kiss you."

at this, the executive paused.

your eyes are glazed, unfocused as you close your proximity. while never been able to discern his choice of befriending someone with such a dangerous ability, chuuya has always trusted you as someone with a clear conscience. he trusted you as someone with just principles and loyalty. maybe that's the reason. maybe he saw a glimpse of himself in your ideals. maybe he just projected his subconscious loneliness on your eyes. maybe that's why.

but this? this is strange, this is all.. wrong. you shouldn't. you both shouldn't be–

his breath hitches as he can feel your breath mingling against his. you mirror him, eyes rapt on his grey irises.

"[name]-"

everything runs too fast, too wrong. his arms cradle your waist, yours grasping his shoulder. the fervent gestures send your half-empty bottles teetering off the counter, but hell. who gives a damn?

crimson and white wine melds into one. warm. sweet. saccharine. so sweet it must taste bitter.

a lilting sigh,

nakahara chuuya blinks. something crashes with an ear-deafening shatter.

both of your wine bottles are toppled, its content swirling together in a messy spill. your sauvignon blanc had long slipped and broken upon the floor's impact. no, you had also slipped along with your bottle and lay wasted on the floor, away from both your seat and his grasp.

for the very rare occasions in his life, nakahara chuuya is at loss.

should he be concerned about your uncharacteristically inebriated state? probably. should he be mad? he doesn't have a real reason to be. like a deer in the headlight, the nakahara chuuya doesn't know how to handle something—someone.

if not for your light snores, one could've thought you simply died, uncaring and unbothered by the deeds your drunken mind procured.

the car ride was silent.

for one, chuuya was glad he brought one of his cars (that dazai didn't blow up) in favor of his favorite red motorbike. but why did you end up in his car again? the mafioso found your phone completely dead, and he much rather not contact any of your detective buddies.

it's almost like you really intended to drown in your tainted sorrows and simply disappear.

"[name], you're not really sleeping, aren't ya?" 

"i was," you add after a hesitant pause, voice barely above a whisper. "guess the booze wasn't enough."

oh, it was more than enough, alright.

 ...

"sorry. that was embarrassing"

"as hell," chuuya's expression shifts to a lopsided smirtle—a poor cover for a bitter smile. "should've taken a picture."

"shit. sorry. wait no, i hope sorry can cut it-"

you somehow manage to hit your head with the car's window. but at this point, chuuya doesn't bother to question your clumsiness.

"anyway," you nurse your temple, nerves still tingling from the alcohol, "thanks for not taking one, i guess? i would've sued you if you did, but suing someone from the mafia never worked well."

your companion doesn't answer, merely deigning a soft exhale as he trains his eyes on the dark road.

this late into the night, the street has gotten quieter. there was no music, save for your silent breaths and the revs of the engine. artificial lights litter the street and skyscrapers blink passing twinkles, serving a comforting panorama.

"oh wait." your neck cranes as you see the car swerve to the familiar neighborhood. "you know my house."

"i do." 'everyone else does,' the thought enters unbidden. perhaps chuuya is glad. but he is is impressed all the same that someone hasn't broken into your house and put you hostage, or killed you in your sleep for the things your ability allow you to do.

"yeah, well. hope you won't be one of them." you nonchalantly add.

the air had gotten heavier.

"you better watch out, [name]," he glowers, reminding him of who you are, what your affiliations are, and what terrible powers you possess in your hands. "i can crash this car or make gravity suffocate you here and now."

"you can." 

he frowns. those kinds of tone never sits well with him. reminded him too much of that person. too quick, too uncaring.

"-i mean," your regular gait resurfaced, careful and guarded. "i won't stop you if you'll actually do that?"

"the fuck is that question?" he turns his attention from the road ahead. "you wanna die or something? "

"what? no!" you retort. "it's not like i'm capable to stop you even if i want to!"

"you said won't, not can't!"

"it's essentially the same thing! now please get your eyes back on the road-"

"you- ugh," chuuya sighs, for an amount he can no longer keep track of. "do what ya want. im not paid enough for this." 

your expressions mellow to a soft, somewhat melancholic smile. no, he's not even paid for any of this. but did he leave you unconscious and pathetic on that cold, dirty floor?

you shift in the passenger seat. it feels comfortable. warm, even. a bitter smile blooms from your lips.

"thanks. no- sorry. i guess i owe you again."

observing the street lights and occasional glow of late hour establishments, you find comfort and consolation in the company of the man beside you. you were right. his presence was just as much of a sinful indulgence as the sweet liquor lingering in your mouth.

 end notes.

I PROMISE I'LL WRITE STH OTHER THAN LAWYER READER ASDFJKL guilty as charged🤡 reader is not even doing lawyer things at this point lmao

sooo uhh that was part two of that one fic. did i do justice to it? uhh i hope i did. the idea of late-night drives just sorta popped out and hey! why not make it the second part of this fic? it sorta got haywire from there, i went crazy lmao. keep in mind i don't endorse or romanticize alcohol. drink responsibly broskis.

#nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #tumblr ples im begging ;-;

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Walmart takes your money and gives it to right-wing think tanks with instructions to write these bills you protest. Koch and Walton have been buying state legislatures for decades in order to create a corporate-Christo fascist state. Soon these state legislatures will begin holding constitutional conventions to rewrite the constitution in their image. They’re already openly planning it.

Hillary Clinton was mocked by fearful Republikkkans when she tried to expose the “vast right-wing conspiracy” but today college courses are taught on the subject. Hundreds of right-wing foundations are taking money from billionaire oligarchs and using it to buy Republikkkan politicians and write anti-abortion, anti-lgbt, anti-gun control, and voter suppression laws among others. Pro-Publica just exposed how an oligarch has been wining and dining Clarence and Ginni Thomas with lavish vacations. The Federalist Society has selected a majority of the Supreme Court. ALEC connects Republikkkan politicians with oligarch donors.

Democratic Senator Sheldon Whitehouse from Rhode Island has been exposing the Koch/Walton network in the Senate for years but nobody is listening. We keep getting warned but we end up supporting those that are oppressing us.

[tanoraqui]

fake fic game

🐝🐝🐝 sisyphus and the sunk-cost fallacy

[ask meme]

I've been mentally too deep in the War of Wrath these last few days not to just kinda... [gestures at the Oath of Fëanor]

But I don't like to reference things in fic titles that can't be referenced in the fic, so it'd have to be some sort of modern AU in which the characters can moodily compare themselves to Greek mythological figures... I don't know what I'd do with a modern au take on the Oath of Fëanor, really, because imo it's just not as sexy fun compelling if it's not literally at least a little supernaturally binding, but in order to make a modern au have, like, any merit you need to strip out the high fantasy, by definition, which means you can't just make a literally binding oath to God to permanently alter your fate - like, part of the point is that NO earthly authority wants them to do this; no government nor even the local divine officials (Valar). So I don't think I can just say they signed some sort of legally enforceable contract, which is my best thought... And I'm just not interested if the only thing keeping them at this terrible task is their own pride...

...

Ah, got it - "Sisyphus and the Sunk-Cost Fallacy" is an angsty/battle-ready rock song which Maglor writes in the superhero au. It's a very typical Maglor - sorry, Auratorio - song: "woe is me for the guilt I feel about the crimes (I and) my family keep committing (semi-righteously, and we look really fucking cool doing it) [guitar solo]"

[I've never actually figured out how exactly the Oath works in that au.]

#ask meme #silm superhero au #my fic #maglor

[pomogando]

Sirens Call

An Illumina x Reader

Content warnings: hurt and comfort, depictions of blood and gore, implied torture

(1600+ words, oneshot, romantic intended but could be read as platonic)

You were never one to believe in the deities.

Not as in believe in their existence, there was no denying that, but as in their impact on normal men. Why should you concern yourself with a beings problems of who you will never meet?

That's why you left lost temple after all.

Crossroad was much more peaceful compared to that shithole. Your apartment had a good view of the ocean which was never really visible in Lost temple.

But the rent was terrible, you didn't know anyone, and if you're being completely honest you miss the food of your home faction,

but it was home.

You guess.

You decided to try something new one day, copying a recipe online that claimed to be '98% authentic.' You were much more skilled with sweets compared to more savory options. Hopefully, this would turn out better than the usual boxed dinners you bought, you spent more money than you're used to spending on ingredients.

You didn't have the patience (or the time for that matter) to make your own tortillas, store-bought was just fine.

You chopped up some peppers, fewer than he would've used. Your caretaker always preferred to make his own sauce that was way too hot for your tastes.

You couldn't help but notice every thing you did wrong, your cuts also weren't precise like his was. You struggled with squeezing the limes and dropped one of your avocados on the floor. You threw the bits into the blender and turned it on, swearing as you dropped a bit of parsley on the counter. Unfortunately it seemed your apartments shitty electricity seemed to have failed at this moment, buzzing and weeping before leaving you in the dark with a half mixed sauce and an overwhelming smell of lime.

Turns out the water was off, and the wifi, along with the damn a/c. You washed your hands with a water bottle and a dream, not wanting to rub chile into your eye like when you were younger. The same old towel you've always had dried your hands.

Crossroads was pitch black which blended into the starless night sky. That was strange. Crossroads was well known for never failing structurally; you could hear annoyed neighbors conversate amongst themselves.

You should've just ordered takeout.

The only source of light this dark night was a particularly ominous bright star. Staring at it gave you a headache; it might be time for bed.

Though, before you could even finish your next thought the blender came back to life screaming. It was about to fall to the ground as you caught it, a bit of sauce falling on the ground. The lights started to flicker next. Then the a/c froze you and then the tv was blaring that one soap opera you hated with a passion.

You left the now unplugged blender on the counter haphazardly as you ran for the tvs power, but as if things couldn't get any worse you felt the ground beneath you rumble. You fell to your knees as everything suddenly turned back off, diving you back into the night. A loud thump behind you and a groan. You turned around and saw something that might've been a blessing; or maybe not.

A deity of light, the intensity of the light was harsh but strangely warm. It's like a piece of the sun fell onto your balcony. The sun was curled up into a fetal position. The sun looked pitiful as its wounds dripped ichor onto your floor. The sun was breathing heavily as if someone tried to snuff it out.

You watched in awe, when suddenly the deity of light unhinged its jaw to release a primal, strained scream at a decibel you've never heard before. You should've gone deaf. The scream was a warning, an overwhelming dread filling you from head to toe. Your head was spinning as you felt tears form without you realizing.

Yet, for some reason you only stepped closer.

Their lone wing was clipped down to nothing. Their body covered in lacerations. Someone made a futile struggle of killing a god, but a part of you thought maybe that wasn't the goal despite how deep the gashes seemed to go.

Despite the odds against them, they were healing, slowly, but they were healing. The skin mending on its own like a seamstress would mend a sweater. All were mending except for a nasty bite near the shoulder that seemed to drip with a green liquid. You had a feeling it was slowing things down.

They didn't even seem to notice you.

You don't know why, maybe because you thought you couldn't contact anyone else about this even if you wanted to, you ran to your bathroom and pulled out whatever looked useful for dealing with wounds. You definitely didn't know what you were doing but there's no way you could've made things worse.

In spite of your preparation, you hesitated as you stepped close to the cowering figure; their breathing was ragged and seemed torturous, the star writhing with each breath. Their hands curled up into fists as a searing pain wad across their entire body.

You hesitated, but eventually got closer to the cowering figure and spoke in a shaky voice

"Can I... touch you?"

The angel did not respond, still curled up into a ball. It was as if it didn't hear you.

"I'm… just going to clean your bite mark. I hope that's okay. You can tell me no."

Silence filled the air.

You hastily wet your towel, stepping closer and careful not to cause more pain. You hesitantly begun to lightly dab the bite wound clean of the venomous green liquid. Only to be practically forced to the ground as the being of light let out another animalistic scream, shielding their body with whats left of their wings. The voice was strained but stern, spoken as a command that one couldn't refuse.

"Don't touch me."

Yet, hypocritically, it seemed to wrap its arms around you. Your body being pulled in close as it breathed heavily in your arms. You felt the ichor liquid spilling on your clothes but you felt as if you had better things to worry about.

Perhaps they didn't realizing they were clinging onto you like a scared dying animal. Blood loss could alter a mind, and maybe Gods had the same fear- maybe an even greater fear- of dying like mortals. Your thoughts were clouded as you tried to focus on what's in front of you as you gently wrapped your arms around their quivering body as ichor stained your skin. You would give them the comfort they would never admit to craving.

And the sun would let you.

You didn't know how to comfort people, but if the sun was bothered by it they wouldn't speak. Your soft, coddling reassurances of safety and warmth filled the ears of a deity twice your size. "You're going to be okay."

You could feel their blood drenched claws on your back as they kept their arms wrapped around your waist but they seemed to be careful not to harm you. The wounds on their back were being closed shut one by one, it was almost as if it was never there in the first place.

The bite wound seemed to finally be on the process to repairing itself aswell.

You opened your mouth hesitantly "do you have any more bite marks?" They only grumbled something inaudible in response, so you quietly scanned their body as best as you could.

"I just want to help you."

The deity seemed to flinch at those words, quietly pushing itself up from the ground to face you, they slowly opened their eyes as if they had been blind their whole life.

Their eyes were like a piercing blade. Eyes that would've made the bravest crumble into submission. Eyes that have probably seen many die in agony. Eyes that probably didn't care.

And yet, why did you feel your body relax as if you rejoiced with a long lost lover?

"Your eyes.." your voice was a soft whisper, music to their ears."They're like stars."

You would help them see again.

You put a hand on their cheek. Almost in a trance. Their eyes widened, you couldn't tell if it was fear or relief.

As quickly as that moment arrived, it quickly left. The star jolted up from your lap, unable to keep it's eyes off you as it made a run for the window to vanish into the night sky. Strangely, you could've sworn you saw their pale cheeks tint with color.

It felt as if you had just woken up from a dream. The only sign they had ever been here was the bloodied handprints on your back.

You didn't even notice when the lights came back to life as you sat there in shock and guilt.

The next, unpleasant morning. You tried your best to scrub your floor clean of blood. It seemed ichor was hard to get out even with a strong bleach. It would look jarring, but you decided to just place a rug over the spot. You didn't want to tell anyone what happened last night, not like they would believe you.

When you got your stained shirt out of the wash, you noticed something fall out onto the floor. A pale white feather. Somehow completely clean, it was practically glowing. Despite its delicate look it was tough and didn't tear. You ran a finger along the edge and it felt like gentle blades.

You had a feeling that it wasn't here by chance.

#legal woes || writings #phighting #legal woes || phighting #phighting! #phighting x reader #illumina x reader #illumina

[fanby-fckry]

12. 20. 26. 31. 69. Of the new one please :)

Fanfiction Writing Asks

Thank you! :3

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

I outline multichapter fics, because if I don’t, then I the plot suffers.

My outlines aren’t very detailed, though. Usually they’re just bullet points with some rough ideas for scenes/dialogue. Sometimes I even put memes in there.

The bullet point for the Unholyverse version of Dad Beat Dad currently just says, ‘Play dumb Lucifer; Not that dumb!’

Meanwhile, in the outline of my current WoE WIP, A Far Cry From Eden, we have the juxtaposition of me describing Eve’s first impression of each of the Seven Deadly Sins in a decent amount of detail, vs a chapter that was described as:

Totally not projecting my own sapphic experiences and/or fantasies onto Eve, there. No, never. (I’m gay and they’re both so pretty, I can’t help it!)

I do occasionally stray from my outlines, but that’s part of the beauty of making them so vague. I can usually adjust them as I go.

When I was working on Bloodlust and Butterflies, I had quite a few secondary bullet points that got dropped – although I’ll be revisiting the ideas later in other UH3 works – and one that got moved to a different chapter.

I need a plan for my multichapter fics. The plan is subject to change, but it’s still a plan.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

I feel like between the Unholyverse, the Little Demon AU, and my miscellaneous, canon-divergent Geraskefer fics, I should be legally required to answer this with AU, but canon has been looking kinda good lately.

3/5 of my current Ace Alastor Week WIPs have been canon-compliant. And it was kinda fun to work directly within the frame of canon. Like a little obstacle course for me to run. Enrichment.

I don’t think I’ll be switching to a steady stream of canon-compliant fics any time in the near future, but it’s been nice to explore.

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

Whichever part I happen to get stuck on when my executive dysfunction flares up. Or my psychosis.

If I had a consistently effective treatment for my ADHD and psychosis that didn’t give me terrible side effects, my life would improve sooo much.

Other than that, I don’t have a consistent part of writing that bothers me. Certain subject matter trips me up, and I get writer’s block from time to time just like everyone else, but there’s no part of my writing process that I’d call my least favorite.

31. Do you use a beta reader/editor?

I do! Specifically a beta reader. I edit my own work based on his suggestions. My lovely boyfriend, who now has a tumblr: @giggypoet .

69. What are your favorite fics at the moment?

Obligatory nice.

My favorite fics at the moment are (in no particular order) Death to Death by @moonrose91 , the entire 66.6 Live On Air! series by @prince-liest , and Means to an End by @iirationall .

#fanby answers #letmelickyoureyeballs #and they were mutuals #also: #moonrose91 #prince liest #iirationall #fic recs #fanby: uhverse #fanby: uh3 #fanby: woe #fanby: an age of upheaval #ask game #hazbin hotel #id in alt text #the boyf #<- mentioned

[crescentblossom66]

Morning Routine

A bit of a character study of sorts to get a better understanding on how to write DJ Grooves. The best way to figure out how to write a specific character better is to try to figure out how they behave normally, so...have this.

The room was near silent, the music that had been playing from the speakers just three hours before left the the place in a rather uneasy quiet. The only sound in the room was created by the soft blowing of the air conditioner that send cooling waves of air into the room that would otherwise be way too hot for its owner to handle. The digital clock on the bedside table showed the time in large, green digits, 05:29. The pleasant sound of the saxophone from Gerry Rafferty's 'Baker Street' replaced the silence, and the owner of the room awoke with a soft groan of discomfort, a discomfort not caused by his soft mattress and fluffy, red bed sheets, but rather by his rather restless sleep.

He nearly suffered a panic attack after waking up and being unable to see, thinking that the nightmare that he was falling into a deep hole had been reality. His frantic breathing only slowed back to a reasonable speed after it dawned on him that he was still wearing his sleeping mask, like he did every night. After removing the object that caused him so much woe this early in the morning, he checked the time. For a moment he simply stared at the time as if the clock itself was playing a trick on him, it was morning, no doubt, the rising sun outside only reaffirmed what the clock was telling him, yet...he felt so drained, so tired. The penguin could have sworn that mere moments had past between him falling asleep and him being rudely awoken by his alarm. Time didn't wait for no one, he supposed as he got up, feeling sluggish and a little achy. The fear that the nightmare had caused him seemed to not have left his nerves yet, as his flipper still shook when he opened the door to the bathroom. How cruel his own mind could be, it was supposed to be an ally, helping him find new creative ideas for his movies and helping him overcome the struggles that he faced on a daily basis, instead, it tortured him with visions of his greatest failures. All he could see were the disappointed expressions of his Moon Penguins that were disgruntled that all their hard work didn't pay off, and the audience laughing and booing...

He hadn't realized that he had scrunched up his face until he could hardly recognize it as his own when he looked into the mirror. He had always been proud that his great hygiene and grooming had lead to him being rather nice to look at despite his age, but now he could see the deep wrinkles that had formed around his eyes that his shades normally hid so well from the world. Just like they hid his tears every time the hurtful words of audience and critics caused him to shed when they tore his movies to shreds while they praised those outdated and stale Westerns that the yellow owl made. All the sleep he sacrificed and the blood, sweat and tears that went into his work, trampled upon by those that couldn't understand his films, all the exhaustion and nerves it cost him daily to contend with the biggest obstacle of them all that plagued him like a sewer rat bringing a terrible disease, the Conductor.

The owl embodied everything he hated. That yellow owl treated his own actors that tried their best for him like slavery had been made legal again, not caring if his owls got hurt or traumatized by what he did to them. He could see the damage everyday in the lobby, the constant jittering and fidgeting of the owls didn't go past him. He clenched his flipper around the bottle of shampoo he got out of the cabinet next to the sink. That owl never cared about art, while he was trying new things with every movie, the old owl only ever stuck to the things he knew, no wonder he was running out of ideas! The worst thing was though that people LOVED his bland, basic, uninspired, and frankly boring movies more than anything he had ever created! The only saving grace he had was award 42, the one time justice won, the one time the smug and confident grin of the Conductor vanished to be replaced by an expression that those who didn't have to be around him daily never saw, his raging anger. It was the only time his efforts were rewarded, and that one victory had kept him going ever since. It showed that his formerly untouchable rival was beatable, that he wasn't perfect.

He calmed down a bit, and wiped his face with his flipper, wiping away a few tears that had accumulated in his eyes. Yet so far, he hadn't been able to repeat that success. The weight of his own inadequacy was barely tolerable on the best of days, and downright crushing on the worst. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't breathe, like his own lungs refused to cooperate and he had to take a break in order to calm himself again. He was lucky that his Moon Penguins had somehow never caught on to that.

In an attempt to calm his nerves and to get ready for the day, he took a pleasant shower while he tried to ban the thoughts of him failing again from his mind. He sang an upbeat song instead to remind himself that he just had to stay optimistic, that good things come to those who wait. Maybe this year would be his again, maybe just maybe he could prove once again that his movies were a lot better, that he deserved the recognition that they all denied him.

He gave himself a little pep talk after dressing himself and styling his hair with meticulous care, just like every morning. He just had to believe, they might be able to take the golden trophy from him, but he couldn't let them break his spirit and his hope. He owed it to those supporting him, those that believed in him, his fans and the Moon Penguins.

The former DJ went over to the golden shelf above his comfy bed upon which an array of star shaped shades were placed. To the untrained eye, they all looked the same, but some were a bit darker than others while the rims made the difference on the ones the furthest to the right of the shelf. He'd pick a different one each day, but so far, neither his penguins nor his rival ever noticed, not that he expected the latter to ever take note of any changes. The owl wouldn't know what change was when it hit him in the face!

As he walked back out, he scolded himself internally for letting his thoughts wander back to that yellow eyesore, instead, he focused his mind on the scenes that he'd have to film today while he made his way through the confusing hallways of the basement to the lobby upstairs. The penguin greeted his Moon Penguin crew who greeted him with cheering words of encouragement and happy smiles.

Today would be a good day, he just knew it would be, all he had to do was endure...all he had to do was believe...all he had to do was ignore the voice that kept telling him to stop lying to himself.

#ahit fanfic #ahit dj grooves

[basicallyahedgehog]

Jeddy - James comes home after graduating from Hogwarts. For @phoebe-delia who is always willing to listen to my writing woes and help me shake some ideas out of the annoying mass I call my brain.

So I have two ideas of how this would go. The first one:

Teddy is an auror, or maybe a field healer who works with the aurors/curse breakers/unspeakables.

Teddy and James got together over Christmas break in Jamie’s 7th year. Not sure on the details, but obviously James has to finish school and Teddy’s schedule doesn’t always line up with Hogsmeade weekends so they’re limited to writing letters.

And Teddy is meant to be at James’ graduation but he gets called out on a mission that goes longer than planned and doesn’t make it back. And James obviously understands, Teddy’s been doing this job for a few years and James knew what he was getting into. But he can’t deny being a bit devastated to not have his boyfriend there to see him graduate

We don’t really have much info on how hogwarts graduation works, so in my mind it’s like my own high school experience - graduation happens about a week before all the other years break up. And as part of that, the 7th years travel home on the Hogwarts Express the day after graduation, just their year, as a final rite of passage. Even though they’re legal adults by now and most of them have their apparition license

And so Jamie rides back on the train, expecting to be picked up by his parents, and probably the entire Weasley family that isn’t still stuck at Hogwarts

But instead there’s Teddy, still a bit grimy and frazzled from the field, and James fucking launches himself across the platform. Feet barely hit the ground

And it’s that jump, catch, spin moment from all the cheesy rom coms, and even though he denies it later Jamie definitely cries, Teddy doesn’t even try to deny it. And they don’t really have a reason to be so emotional - it was one day longer than they’d expected to be apart. But they’re both home and James is going to move in with Teddy (don’t tell his parents, they don’t know yet) and they’re young and a little bit stupid still but a lot in love.

But I also had another idea because I got struck by the idea of librarian Teddy. In big glasses and chunky knits and permanent ink stains on his fingers:

James has been outwardly flirting since he was about 15 but “you’re underage, Jamie, and I’m practically your teacher”

And James turns 17 and argues that Teddy is not an actual professor, just a “stuffy librarian” - a phrase that gets him ignored for a few days until he produces an unholy amount of Teddy’s favourite chocolate and a completely overboard apology

But Teddy stands his ground and is annoyingly un-flusterable

At their wedding Teddy finally admits to casting a lot of wordless cooling charms whenever Jamie entered the library to try and stop himself from flushing

And to be honest James does understand and respect Teddy’s boundaries - and Teddy knows he does - but it becomes a bit of a game to try and rile Teddy up

Cut to Jamie’s graduation. As mentioned above I think the 7th years would take the train back, but it would be the day after because it takes so long. So James is just like, hanging out in the common room or something the evening after graduation, probably planning to sneak out to the party that the professors definitely don’t know is happening (even though it’s happened every year for at least a hundred years…) and a little first or second year pops up “Mr Lupin says you’re needed in the library now”

And James hopes of course, but you never really know with Teddy. It’s just as likely James still has a book out that he’s forgotten to return

But as he opens the doors to the library a hand reaches out and yanks him inside. He can’t even fully see Teddy, what with there being no light apart from a few flickering candles, but he hears a rough “you’re not a student anymore” before he his pushed up against the door and kissed within an inch of his life.

I’d like to think that James becomes a professor, or an auror who does regular lectures or something, and that he continues to visit Teddy in the library and try to get him flustered

Don’t tell anyone, but it’s usually James that ends up flustered, when he walks in and teddy is talking to some students, his hair all ruffled from absent-minded hands and a smudge of ink on his cheek and his eyes alight with enthusiasm as he imparts knowledge about some niche topic or other.

James definitely makes use of the cooling charm trick.

If you want rambling dot points with my headcanons, send me a character/pairing and a situation/theme and I’ll do my best to answer it in a vaguely timely manner!

#my writing #kind of #my rambling headcanons #my brain can produce that but not sort it into an actual plot line #send me characters and scenarios to stimulate my writing brain

[cobaltperun]

Any fic recs??

-👾

Oh, so many, though you probably read all or most of them, and I assume you'd like Jenna x reader or Jenna's characters x reader.

Let the light in by the-oblivious-writer is easily one of the best Tara x R I have ever read

Then there are three stories by persevereforahappyending, He hung up and This isn't your fault are just incredible Tara x R, and there's also the Mabel x R story Luck runs out.

Toournextadventure is absolutely amazing writer whose stories are a must read, with most wonderful Wednesday x R story Everyone but her, as well as Movie night which is a Tara x R story.

Now, these two come with a warning, as they haven't been updated in a long time. Legally binded by house-of-lovin (Jenna x R) and Children of Woe by sorel-wolf (though this one is on AO3, Wednesday x OC, but still incredible)

Other than those, itskattkm, paladinncleric, shdysders, and many, many more. Honestly, I should probably take more time to comment/reblog their stories, but I've just been too focused on writing to properly do it.

#perunanswers #👾

[believerindaydreams]

Thursday again: losing track of time edition

seriously I had to check it was Thursday

Listening

dear Syb: sorry I did not do the Five Songs Thing but my head has just been looping thus all week p much

Playing

...partly because I got to play the new FL dating sim Mask of the Rose (nods at @girlfriendsofthegalaxy ) I would like to say I recommend it, but honestly I cannot. There's a reason why roguelike visual novels are not a Thing and this is it. I was able to play out two of the three storylines I wanted to do by dint of completely ignoring the plot, which is fine because I didn't care about the plot, but also: uh?

The third that I wanted was about getting to fuck Mr Pages. Given that this game was marketed on the basis of "tee hee, we will let you fuck the space bats in this one," I did not think I would require a wiki guide to fuck the space bat. It did not go well for reasons still unclear to me and I'm still huffy about that.

Also the soundtrack was the worst, which is why I went back to Maribeth.

Reading

A lot of stuff about Trump's legal woes, all of which are now out of date. Ha ha ha!

Visiting

Went up to the homeless encampment to give the first guy I saw my unneeded tent. Drove home and found that I'd handed over the pole bag and the tarp but not the tent on my bedroom floor. I'm an idiot.

Eating

...an alarming number of brown sugar pop tarts. you can tell I'm distracted, can't you?

Writing.

The goddamn original novel, for better or for worse, is in progress. Only took twenty years to get it together.

Wish me luck, guys!

#bye bye ne #thursday again #Youtube

[mosses-gate-3]

pssst hey for the odd oc asks 🥃for salix and cesair, 🍩for monty, and 🎂for ren 👀👀👀

ooooh thank you so much!!!!

🥃 If your OC was in this universe, what would be their favourite show/book/band/social media platform?

A modern AU Salix would definitely have all sorts of social medias but her favorite is Twitter, I think she enjoys watching its slow descent into the fires of hell from afar. For band I really don't know whether she's into more like folk rock (most of the stuff on the playlist i have for her) or like. Evanescence, MCR, that whole era. Because I could really see either.

Cesair is absolutely a Reddit user, no question, but his most used platform is probably TikTok. For being a musician I don't think he really has a favorite band, listens to a bit of everything. (I think he's an influencer/funnyman in a modern au. One of those people who writes those parody comedy songs.)

🍩 What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

What's a crime Monty HASN'T committed, is a better question... Lol. Aside from all the murder, it'd be tax evasion, by virtue of the fact that he legally doesn't have a job or home (cage fighting is technically illegal, who knew). He's gotten arrested several times for all sorts of stuff.

Andis (who you didn't mention but I am putting him in anyway because I love him) would absolutely rebel, plot against authority, join a riot, etc. if he felt like the government wasn't working for the good of the people. He has actually been arrested once, for selling samples of his flesh on the black market (very desirable because of the regenerative properties of the fungal tissue) in order to get by in the first few months after he escaped the lab. 🎂 Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first perception people have of them? How do they surprise people?

Ren is generally very calm and quiet, so woe betide the first person who tries a sneaky Detect Thoughts and gets ten thousand thoughts beamed directly and simultaneously into their brain with all the force of an 18-wheeler. But other than that, a lot of people are surprised at how sentimental they can be due to the perpetual stone-faced neutrality. That's just their face you guys

#my ocs #bg3 tav #moss says things #my tav #bg3 #reneeginald #salix #monty #cesair #andis