#misshoodoolady

[speedin]

@misshoodoolady

It seems like the Adulting thing is going pretty well, so far. It’s terrifying as shit, maybe even more terrifying than fighting an alien bug hoard from another universe, actually, but after awhile even the prospect of having to manage a 401k with his new job becomes less a scary thing and more a.. Thing!

A Thing Adults Do and Hey, This Isn’t So Bad??

It helps tremendously that dating Pasha is like ... is like being a pikachu that discovers a thunderstone and levels up. She’s his thunderstone and he’s the raichu he never knew he could be and it’s thrilling and scary but she’s there, embedded in his very bones and giving him the power to use thunderbolt like he’s never been able to before.

What he means to say is--

Oh.

“What’s up, buttercup?” why is she shaking? Not like, ahh earth-quake!! shaking, but her hand feels a little jumpy on his and he’s pretty sure he can see her fingers twitching uneasily. Ruh roh... did he do something wrong and didn’t notice again? He’s been SO good about being aware, but he’s only HUMAN...

Barry sets his book down over his belly to keep it marked where he’s left off and looks from her little paw to her big eyes and he blinks owlishly.

“Are you okay, Pasha?”

[cheeseburgerisms-blog]

@misshoodoolady.

      “This isn’t OUTDATED. It’s STURDY. I dropped my iPhone from the ground level and broke it, but I dropped THIS THING from 30,000 feet and all that happened was the battery popped out.”

[agcntressler-blog]

         When he’d begun tracking his latest magic serial killer, Donald really hadn’t expected it to be this hard. Whoever it was had some pretty strong magic, they were capable of blocking his visions - any time he tried he only got blurry and confusing flashes of images. It was more than frustrating, he was on a crusade now. So here he was, strolling into the latest police precinct to check in with them, liaison with the case and provide some obfuscation if the normal officers got too close to the truth. He also had to check in with the local Council captain, who he’d been told worked with the cops. Speaking of things he hadn’t been expecting...  “ Devereaux? ”  he asked in surprise.

[bengalisms]

— ❋ @misshoodoolady​ ;; cont.

“A week? I think that might be a world record, cher.” It’s said with a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling as she pulls up a song on her phone then pulls him to his feet, pressing in close. “Y’know, I find that stress ruins my creativity, makes it harder to get things done. Maybe you should take the night off and we can go out. My mom will happily babysit.”

          ❝ A week. ❞ He repeats with a defeated huff, head tilting back a bit as hands reach out to hold her around the small of her back. Small chuckle brings a smile to his face, eyes softening all the while. ❝ Hm... Sometimes stress helps me. ❞ In truth, his life has always been stressful. He dives into the pain and suffering of it, and pulls lyrics from that river like a fisherman pulling fish from the edge of a river. One by one. It relaxes him. So why did this song feel like wrestling a massive catfish? ❝ Maybe you’re right–– ❞ he sighs, ❝–– but maybe I give it one more go? ❞ He really didn’t know when to stop, did he?

[pigwithpersonality]

@misshoodoolady gets a rando starter bc CARNIVAL?

“It seems to me--”

says as the vampire stitches yet another sequin into an already gaudy shoe--this is, after all, for the Krewe of Muses, and they are nothing without hundreds of wild and wonderful shoes. And what better use of superior vampire eyesight than staring for hours on end at sequins and glitter?

“--that a witch should be able to fairy godmother this sort of thing”

[willowbound-blog1]

for @misshoodoolady.

          good news:  they made it to their destination (just barely).  bad news:  the car is toast, and while one of them may be a necromancer, on cars?  she is not.  furthermore, bellanthe doesn't often travel by car, and this is why.  they're man-made and, therefore, capable of precisely this.

          "wha' kinda car did you ren', devereaux?" she asks as they stand outside, staring at the steam rising from the engine of the sedan.  this sucks, but she guesses it beats the car being pasha's personal vehicle.  bellanthe gives a loud sigh, leaning over the engine like she's about to do something worthwhile only to draw back and throw up her hands.  "don' look like some'hin' you can fix. brillian' as you are," the second part is added, because she doesn't want the council witch thinking bellanthe assumes pasha is unable to fix cars. the necromancer doesn't know much about them, but even she knows when something is really and truly broken.

          she waves at the car dismissively.

          "leave i'," she turns on her heels to glance toward the dusty, old town that lies ahead. "we're 'ere anyway."

[utt-archived]

misshoodoolady replied to your post:�� I ship our muses, but we’ve never interacted...

the power couple gotham needs but doesn’t deserve.

[nowyouowemeafavor]

*puts her cold feet on him*

     it always started small, not that she was shy by any means, but it always seemed like she was fighting against it, them. fingers skimmed along the top of her foot, to her ankle, lightly clasping it to playfully tug her closer to falling into his lap from the arm of the chair. still a matter of contention who had tricked who. not that it mattered now, another tug to spill her into his lap, fabric riding higher on her leg to expose her knee, fingertips moving to play along the tendon behind it after straightening her leg enough to place her foot on his other thigh. 

‘i didn’t realize the chill could reach so deep.’

     not that he wanted to remind her that her mother was wreaking havoc amongst the humans, all for the love of her daughter, a tantrum that both of them ignored cuddled up in a chair. phones off, the dead banished to remote corners of the underworld, a garden of cypress trees made out of platinum to picnic under, he spoiled her because she stayed. long digits wrapped around a foot to massage it, chafe it, amused at the idea of dragging her to Cerberus’ lair to curl up with their dog. 

     they had a lot of things, and it was odd to want to offer, to share, and not feel as if it was taken unjustly. weird to enjoy sharing treasured memories and possessions. overall this whole business, more or less, was the two of them enjoying freedoms previously denied, his lips brushing her cheek as his fingers twisted a lock of hair around his finger, tugging on it. 

‘you could just ask to share the blanket, you know...’