An Excellent Use of My Writing Journal, Ahoy

[sincere]

*...hides under the bed*

I'll write things. Or I'll try. Challenge-things. Just like... no more than two or something... Be gentle with the crack... I don't know enough RPverse for that... Other fandoms okay...

...I know that was such a thorough explanation, but if for some reason you need answers, comment with questions. *shifty eyes* ...maaaybe I'll answer them. *hides*

(Well, it's not like I'm writing anything responsible recently.)

Comments

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

More cross-dressing angels? We likes cross-dressing angels. :-D

Diary of Angels: Not Convinced

[sincere]

[[You're supposed to give me a prompt! I'll use this week's non-plot challenge.]]

"With all due respect, Your Elegance, you could at least stuff a bra."

Jophiel snorted indelicately. The angel, whose name was unimportant really, closed his eyes in pained disavowal of his boss. From the rigid line of his back he still imagined he carried his wings and perhaps full regalia of heavenly armor, or just heavenly dignity. He didn't look like he knew what people did in nightclubs, but here he was, pestering the archangel when all Joe wanted was a beer and some exceptionally drunk girl who wouldn't notice he was in a skirt.

He definitely hadn't come in the front -- he was too stiff to ever have gotten past the doorman.

"I like bras just fine," the brunet said disdainfully. "On women."

Perhaps sent exclusively to annoy him, the angel persisted. "Look at that-- That guy over there. He's at least making an effort. Your Elegance, with all due respect, looks as if he's fallen into his girlfriend's clothes by accident."

If a man said 'with all due respect' enough, did that actually in and of itself grant a certain level of respect? Jophiel twisted around to glance at the crossdresser in question.

His lip curled. "Well, there's no accounting for taste," the archangel said. "That handbag doesn't match his bustier at all."

Re: Diary of Angels: Not Convinced

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

*loves!*
Okay, an actual prompt ... uh ... the black cat crossing one's path. Yes. *eyes small black cat*

Diary of Angels: Crossing Paths

[sincere]

Maxine said avidly, "Oh, a black cat! Look out, Joe, with your heels you could impale the poor thing."

He planted both his lethal heels firmly on the ground and stared the feline down. It had frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, mid-stride, head turned to stare back at him warily. Cats were, in spite of all the myths about them, as stupid as any other animal when it came to celestial life, and as far as it knew, he was just a guy giving it a flat stare.

She whispered, as if trying not to disturb it, "You know, it's kind of funny. I read somewhere that in England and Japan it's good luck for a black cat to cross your cat. I wonder why it's bad luck here?"

"Not everyone is like you and wants to cuddle everything with four legs that lacerates their arms," Jophiel said firmly, striding forward. The cat bolted.

"Oh, Joe, c'mon. Don't be a jackass." She hustled after him with delicate footsteps and twined her arm in his, apparently expressly for the purpose of pinching the meaty part of his hand between sharp fingers. Joe flinched and scowled at her.

Maxine told him, "Everyone I know says you're bad luck."

"What I said stands," he said, irritated. "People smarter than you."