enbarr, sometime in 1186:

ok so @frozenartscapes made this addition to my post about byleth and edelgard writing each other letters all the time, right:

well i kind of lost my mind and now we're here.

i'm sure this meeting is salvageable :0) hubert's sanity, however,

me signing on after 48 hrs of radio silence  :  does anyone.......  remember me  ?!  hEWWO....... ?!?1  🤧

Question for jack... I heard a company rumour that you wore a wig. Is that true? If not, how do you feel about getting called bald?

“I don’t know who told you that customer, but that’s not true! This is very clearly my real natural hair! Not bald at all nope!”

“I can’t let the feds know I’m back another Freddy’s location after 79’ please don’t tell anyone”

casual reminder that my heidegger is an alcoholic and a large part of his incompetence is blamed on this fact

Johnny rounding up all the chaotic people like he's collecting action figures and it's beautiful

Started a hyperfixation on Dano!Riddler. The irony is I heavily dislike DC or Marvel, but somehow 2022 Riddler kidnapped my heart and ducttaped it to his sleeve.

good morning — it’s friday & the weekend is just around the corner, i’m super proud of all of us for getting through it. be kind to yourselves & each other

to all the muses out there who have been genuinely nice to leo:

i'm sorry

he is literally a disaster and a half (or maybe about 5385865363 disasters, tbqh) and is2g every single time anyone just shows common decency to him, he has an Entire Moment that should be backed up by a dramatic musical number at this rate bc jeezum

jeezum

Good news! Doggo is back from the vet; she needed to go to a specialist further away but the blockage was cleared without invasive surgery. Turns out she hadn't even eaten anything she wasn't supposed to, she was just majorly backed up for lack of a better term but she's safe now and finally I can fucking relax.

thinking about john's multitude of short-lived, often quickly-abandoned apartments for some reason, so a couple details:

although you might expect to find a very wizard-y interior to any place he's currently living at — you know, grimoires, skulls, dust, clutter, etc. — his flats actually tend to be fairly spartan in terms of decor; they've even been accused of looking modern, here and there. he just moves too frequently to really settle in & accrue Things, and has so often had to simply up & leave everything he currently owned behind (with very little chance of getting any of it back) that he no longer attaches much meaning to household objects.

besides the consistent presence of at least one bookshelf with at least 12 books on it, and a sad sprig of garden sage that miraculously hasn't died yet, the one exception to his lack of personal touch is his extensive collection of records + tapes, all of which he has repeatedly & methodically tracked down and bought / bid / traded / stolen / threatened for / blackmailed for / simply taken back whenever an enterprising landlord or new tenant left him the opportunity to do so. his record player itself has never needed to be taken back, since it has always mysteriously vanished from whatever flat he's leaving and mysteriously appeared wherever he's staying; it's convenient like that. his 10th anniversary walkman, however, frequently goes missing, only to turn up again later in a place he KNOWS he checked when he's least expecting it.

lack of home decor isn't to say he doesn't own much, mind: the bulk of his personal possessions — assorted occult paraphernalia, blackmail documentation, miscellaneous crap from his mucous membrane days, and anything he is able to take with him from past flats — are usually stored off-site, in a secure location that can't easily be tied back to him. this guy's been accused of being a satanic killer on multiple occasions, he knows better than to keep all the real shit out where anyone can just swan in and see it.

currently, this storage location (which i lovingly call occult shit central) is an abandoned inner london storefront + adjoining flat that was formerly his old friend ray monde's shop and home, called brick-a-brac antiques. it's decidedly cozier than the last place, (in that there are chairs, plural,) and has fewer bear traps laid out in anticipation of unlucky thieves; in fact, if a person were to visit without already knowing where constantine actually lives, it'd be easy to mistake it as his expectedly-wizardy flat. it's not an ideal location for an occult shit central, too close to the heart of the city and too close to people to avoid drumming up suspicion should constantine attempt any sort of ritual inside, but until chas finally quits ducking the paperwork and signs over his storage lot (which he may or may not be dragging his feet on out of pure resentment for having to do it at all) ray's place is the best option there is.

constantine's previous (and future) storage location was a lock-up in streatham that chas had been letting him use (see: all but surrendered to him entirely) since he got out of ravenscar, but after constantine's sister died, john decided he was done with magic and, in a spontaneous fit of rage, burnt the place down with everything but a few necessities still inside. he regretted this later, when he inevitably returned to the occult scene after just over a year away, and spent a lot of time calling in favors / hypnotizing arson inspectors to try and put together an inventory of everything he'd lost.

in the nearly 20 years since the fire, he's managed to replace or find substitutes for about 2/3 of what he had (occult-wise), and gather enough fresh dirt / do enough favors / orchestrate enough compromising situations to accumulate a little over 1/4 of the political / interpersonal power he once maintained. ( the lack of success in the latter being, in part, because people now in power aren't as familiar with his name & reputation as they once were; in part because people just don't believe in magic as much as they used to, or were otherwise bought by hell / heaven / other parties a LONG time ago; and in part because he's come to absolutely fucking despise most politicians / people in power more than he is willing to work with them, or more than he is able to plausibly believe they won't try to drop him at the first opportunity. )

you would be hard-pressed to find a landlady/landlord that speaks kindly of this man. if he wasn't kicked out for suspicious smells / disturbing noises / sudden infestations / suspected satanic activity, then it's likely that he abruptly up and disappeared in the middle of the night, with no warning and no rent. (on a few occasions, this vanishing act also coincided conspicuously with a gruesome death on the premises, sometimes of the landlady/landlord themselves, although no one's ever been able to prove anything.) frankly it's . . . magic, that people still rent to him.

due to these aforementioned bad ends, he's incredibly lucky if he gets enough time or leeway to take any sort of furniture with him from one place to the next. however, there is one incredibly comfy, wing-backed, sapphire-blue armchair that's miraculously managed to survive every move in the last ten or so years without being reported stolen — even though it has survived every move because it has, in fact, been stolen in the dead of night nearly every single time, by john and at least one of his buddies.

it's the way i really, REALLY hope this isn't true because i do not wanna see this fucking movie but i'll have to if MY MJ is in it 😔

Talk to me abt ur muse's experience w natural disasters

i would just like to say @auburniivenus's voice is super cute and mallow is a great friend ♡