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365 Characters ↳ #35 - Sirius Black

The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters.

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“I don’t know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream.” ― Vincent Van Gogh

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His life was one weird mix worthy of expert analysis, there was no denying that. One day he was like any other kid out there; struggling with homework, waiting for the next great game to go pre-order, trying to survive school and every herculean trial it came with it, and the next one—god, the next one a spider steps in and suddenly aliens are raining all over New York and he got stuck in space with little to no knowledge of what to fear and what to befriend out there. SO—when it came to talk about normal, that was a concept rather difficult to precise, and happily not so difficult to find in the little things. You know which ones: a silly text from your best friend, hiding from someone on a bad hair day, or as in his case right now—the kind of meal he shouldn’t be taking right now but that would mean the world to him after the first glorious bite.

Peter held that hot dog in his hands as if the thing was the most precious gem in the entire world. The warm snack infiltrating his senses with the sweet smell of all those onions and the heavenly promise of its taste. And—while Aunt May had made him promise that he wouldn’t eat anything before their shared dinner later that night, was it really fair to deprive himself of that kind of delicacy when he was just passing by, endlessly burned by all the hunger he felt in him? Was it kind for his poor body deeply in need of something—anything other than the homemade pasta that his loving guardian prepared ( nevermind the other three to five snacks he had devoured since lunch )? No, and because of that, Peter felt exempt from all the guilt that could have anteceded the first bite of that heavenly thing.

A bite that, well—he never got to take in the end.

“WHATTHE—” Yup, quite eloquent if I say so myself. The scream, while not long nor exceedingly loud was indeed a sign of his surprise and exactly what anteceded his blatant fall into the ground. No, not dropping the hot dog for one second and keeping it safe from the merciless floor, but making him feel the loud note of pain coming from his rear hitting the ground instead. Now—we talked about normal a minute ago, didn’t we? Well, as the thesis read, normal wasn’t normal anymore and the strange creature standing right in front of him was a sure proof of that.

“I… I uh—I—I—I mean, uh… hi? Hi, wow, hello. Uhm, did—did you just said…? No, wait, no, I—I fully registered it now, I needed a second that’s all. Uhm—” A dragon. A whole, entire dragon. He was —surprisingly— talking to a big, scaly creature who apparently had a significant fondness for street food instead of—wait, what did dragons ate in movies anyway? ( people, if Game of Thrones was anywhere close to right that was ). So—when he finally managed to calm down a little ( and I need to insist, ‘ a little ‘ meaning still in shock but capable of breathing at a decent pace ) Peter also became capable of remembering the question that such an unexpected visitor had formulated, one—that he wasn’t entirely sure how it would follow after being verbalized.

“Well, uh… you see, the thing is—OH! OH, YOU CAN HAVE MINE! Or—I could—get you some? Look, I don’t want to sound rude but, the old lady selling these might be in danger if she saw you—HEART ATTACK danger, and I—rather prefer if she made it through the night? NOT FOR THE WRONG REASONS, you look—really cool I promise, but—you know…”

@choicelesshope gets a starter from dragon!Jessica. (aimed at Peter Parker)

As strange as New York was, Jessica had always found her ways in that city. It was funny how gullible humans could be. And frankly, the Black Jewel Pouncer knew all the tricks and stunts to remain undetected. Go out at night when possible, use the side streets and roofs to stay out of sight, even swim if you have to.

Currently Jessica was sprinting accross the roofs, leaping from building to building like a large, oversized cat. Sometimes her wings briefly opened, so that she could easier glide the distances. Finally she stopped, panting and sniffed the air. Something smelled absolutely delicious here. Was that…a hot dogs with mustard and crispy onions? Her ears twitched and her tail wagged in excitement.

Peeking her head over the reiling of one of the buildings, the dragonness spotted a boy, walking along the street. He was holding the meal in his hands, which had tickled her fancy. Jessica licked her muzzle. She then timed her jump.

Body twisting and turning, the dragonness leaped ahead off the building. Spreading her wings, she wagged her tail from side to side as she more fell then flew in the direction of the boy. Finally Jessica landed before him. She asked as if it was perfectly normal: “Can you tell me where you got that delicious hot dog from?”

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When you find that special someone, treasure every moment.

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Billie Eilish - bury a friend

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irnmaidn​:

SHE  SHOULD  HAVE  TURNED  BACK  SOONER.     she  sensed  the  change  in  the  air ,   after  all.   the  way  it  grew  thick  with  tension.   DANGER ,   even.   if  that  didn’t  do  it ,   warnings  from  owl  &  fidella  should  have.   but  cassandra  insisted  on  pushing  a  little  further ,   only  another  half  a  mile  &  they’d  turn  back ,   she  swore.   until  a  half  mile  became  whole ,   &   another  half  after  that.   where  did  it  lead  her  ?   here ,   crouching  in  the  underbrush.   hidden  by  a  mess  of  leaves  &  fallen  branches.   a  hideout  she  can  only  hope  holds  up.

worry  flays  her  mind.   mother  will  kill  her ,   she  knows.   never  let  her  come  along  on  another  trip  again ,   let  alone  leave  their  cottage.   assuming ,   of  course ,   she  ever  makes  it  out  of  here.   cassandra  usually  finds  her  way  back  home  sooner  or  later ,   no  matter  how  far  a  horse  ride  or  afternoon  hike  takes  her .  .  .   but  the  tall ,   proud  woman  walking  closer  now ,   a  sceptre  in  hand ,   gives  her  pause.   pause  enough  to  shrink  further  back  into  her  hiding  spot.   cassandra  senses  the  magic  emanating  from  her  ;   a  far  stronger  magic  than  she’s  ever  known.   stronger  than  her  mother’s.   it’s  what  drove  her  to  hide  in  the  first  place.

slowly ,   carefully ,   cassandra  reaches  for  the  sheath  at  her  leg.   she  slips  the  dagger  from  it  &  grips  tight  its  hilt.   it  probably  won’t  do  much  good ,   but  it’s  better  than  nothing.     “   keep  moving ,   keep  moving ,   ”     she  whispers  beneath  her  breath.   it’s  a  bad  habit ,   talking  to  herself ,   &   cassandra  realizes  it  a  second  too  late   as  the  woman  suddenly  stops  in  her  tracks.   cassandra  freezes ,   heart  lurching  in  her  chest.   she  holds  her  breath   ——   if  she  makes  no  noise ,   no  movement ,   this  will  pass .  .  .   or  so  she  hopes.

a  wince ,   then ,   menacing  words  a  knife  searching  for  their  target.   dammit.   cassandra  takes  another  instinctive  step  back ,   &   a  sharp  noise  cut  through  the  air.   a  stupid  twig.   this  time ,   she  couldn’t  muffle  the  curse  beneath  her  breath.     “   i’m  just  passing  through ,   ”      she  called  out  finally ,   teeth  grit  hard  in  the  effort  to  keep  voice  steady.   cassandra  forced  herself  up  onto  her  own  feet ,   into  place.   instinct  told  her  to  RUN ,   but  could  she  outrun  whatever  this  woman  might  do  ?   PROBABLY  NOT.   she  took  a  deep ,   steadying  breath ,   head  held  high  as  it  rose  above  the  brush.   both  hands  followed ,   splayed  out  in  surrender.     “   you  don’t  have  to  worry  about  me.   just  point  me  in  the  right  direction  out  of  here.   i’ll  get  out  of  your  way.   ”

Fiery emeralds shine in the dark, and the forest grows silent while waiting for any sort of reaction. Careful, knowing quite too well not to rush anything that could end in the worst kind of tragedy. Sudden despair; but—is she listening? Does she care? Well, with her back turned to her little can one know about the current whereabouts of her mind; if anything, only the raven standing on her staff turned to the lady with the dagger in her hand. Watching her every movement, strangely ( and only if you could tell that much despite the shadows of the night ) not sure if this was one of those intruders he was allowed to taunt, or a child he should beg to run. Scream one warning that could reveal her mistress not so gentle disposition. BUT—if he got close to that, to any kind of decision, ANYTHING on those long seconds of absolute silence; his every intent got interrupted by a growing laughter that came from the most unexpected place of all. Subtle, at first. Soft—almost a whisper, but turning into a chuckle that ( if others had been the circumstances ) maybe it would have been considered charming, all too gallant from a woman such as her.

“Well, this must be a first—to worry about you?” The guardian of the Moors finally turns to face the girl, marked amusement in the bared teeth she presents to the other, and the secret of her weariness rather discreet in her glare. A mystery, somehow: whether she is not being herself or if this had finally exposed her true nature no one could be able to answer, perhaps not even herself. Instead, what the faerie pursues after her words had faded into the air was to approach the creature, taking her time to watch her well. Circle her a bit even, an unsaid threat telling the other not to move a muscle from her position—that if common sense was still somewhere among her choices. “Hmm, I must admit that you don’t look like the guards who often seek to intrude my lands; nor the hunters I’ve managed to meet as of lately, and... yet—I was expecting a different approach to this enterprise from quite some time ago. Too many failures must irk even the most patient of kings, so—”

The gem in her staff glowed with renewed intensity, and the bird watching the scene extended his wings in announcement of what is to come. “No, I don’t think you are going anywhere for now.” For the self-crowned queen is past those times in which her heart allowed some room for hope, any room for gleeful beliefs. No, not so much nowadays. Not when kings craved for power at any cost and not when they sent spies to dig out the secrets of her home.

@irnmaidn​

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Little-known downsides of immortality:

Tearing your favourite article of clothing and discovering that it’s irreplaceable because the technique of its manufacture has been lost

Realising you’ve thought of the perfect comeback to someone who’s been dead for three hundred years

Not being able to eat your favourite dish anymore because the source of some critical ingredient has gone extinct

Having strong opinions about sports that are no longer played

Getting a song from the 13th Century stuck in your head and being unable to get it out because you don’t remember how it ends and you’re the only person on Earth who knows it

Having that perfect pun you’ve been waiting forever for a chance to use stop working due to linguistic drift

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muddledmenagerie​:

 Despite what he’d just endured for the sake of their shared company these past months, he still raised a shaking hand to call Reevah. She was the only person he could call. Because regardless of all his community work, regardless of his cheerful disposition and how his congregation adored him, Camniel didn’t have any friends. Not really. He knew too well the dangers of getting attached to humans and he tried to avoid it, to not make the same mistake twice.

 But he’d made it again, perhaps even worse. And that was why they’d come for him. 

 Camniel’s excellent service and devotion had saved him last time. They took pity- as much pity as Heaven could in affairs that higher angels didn’t truly understand- and gave him a stern warning. Their advice had been to move and resettle away from such a silly misdemeanor. The slate had been wiped clean and he’d worked dutifully ever since, loving and guiding humans while keeping them at arms length.

 He’d never thought, never even suspected that a demon would slip past his defenses so spectacularly. But Heaven noticed his regular association with one and they were not happy. Camniel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as his fellow archangels landed their blows with fists and blades, all the while telling him how lucky he was not to be stripped of his rank or his wings. The Almighty preached forgiveness, after all, so they said. But a strong example still had to be made. After which he would be expected to return to his post and prepare for the coming Armageddon.

 Crumpled on the floor and leaning heavily against the sofa, he’d simply stared into space after calling Reevah, not even sure what he’d said to her. He couldn’t remember. He might not have said more than her name, but that alone was enough. She would know.

 Yet he winced at the sound of her voice, as sharply as he did at the bleeding wounds that covered him. Because despite the comfort of her presence- fancy that becoming something he took comfort from- he knew that this…this was a warning for her too. A wake up call.

 The angel forced himself to turn around, letting his exhausted gaze meet hers as he tilted his head back against the sofa. Lips twitched into a weak smile, a pale shadow of his usual bright expression. His voice was just as subdued, the cheerful bounce gone from his words. Though for now, he only uttered one.

   “Hey.”

A lot could be said about the act of falling, especially coming from the likes of her. Falling, in any sort of situation, has a moment where you just know things won’t be the same, in a while, or ever again. You fall from a great height, you break a bone, a couple of months pass before you walk like you used to. You imagine that one last step in the staircase, you will feel insecure until the lights are on and the knot in your gut disappears. Or you could fall for someone—and by God, don’t we all know the kind of consequences there is for such an act? Perhaps, perhaps you don’t. But between the slip and the full acknowledgment of the damage there’s a gradient there that sometimes goes too fast to be noticed, a dawning of what the falling means that concentrated such an array of experiences, of emotions, of a POTENTIAL kind of pain that isn’t comparable from one case to another. From one moment to the next.

From what was happening to her now and every experience she had ever gone through in her entire, turbulent existence. 

Reevah was greeted by him and it was like the waves receding before a catastrophe. Silent. Hollow—a little cold, perhaps. Tickling in the edges and numbing above all else. Making it hard to breathe, harder by the minute. Harder when everything in her, those spaces that shock emptied just like that, suddenly got filled with rage, and heat, and the deadliest of intentions. With what she would do to anyone, ANYONE, whoever dared to lay a hand on him, what she fantasized of doing to the ones that already did. The ones who—GOD. She knew it. She could feel it in her, how sparks burned in her eyes, how tears tarnished her face and how her trembling limbs threatened with action; with running, with revenge. How a bit of that impulse reaches the surface when she turns to the door, stopping halfway, knowing that she did things like that most of the time, doing before even thinking. But not now. Not right now. Not with him in that state, no, just no—

“I—I need… fuck, I—give me a second, I…” Fuck. Fuck it, fuck. The guilt she felt and the pure state of her rage demanded so many things from her in that minute. To punch a wall, scream. To beat up someone and cry, really cry. Lost yourself in crying. But—could she be that selfish? Was she going to focus on herself when that angel was right there, struggling with the state of his body, could she—? When he had called her for God knows why, for fear or in need of a little help? No, she didn’t want to be that person anymore. She didn’t want to keep running or give in to the primal urges of her nature. She wanted to help, not knowing how just yet, but she wanted to. And while hard, Reevah kept her promise and only took a few more seconds to calm herself down; hand pressured against her mouth and deep breaths with closed eyes. Thinking of him. Simply thinking of him, as hard as she could.

“How could they...?” She mutters, when she is ready. When she turned her eyes to him and he got a chance to catch all the fear she has in her. A step, then another. She goes to him and kneels by his side, her hands carefully reaching for him, looking for all the bruises and cuts that such injustice had left on his skin. On his face, when her thumb traced his cheek and went down the side of his neck. His shoulders, his arms. When she took both of his hands, imagined what his clothes hid concerning his wounds. How many of them had been? How much could she repair without getting in trouble?

Did she even care if she did?

“Ok. Ok, uh—I can work on a few of these, okay? I can, you’ll feel so much better after that, but you’ll—you’ll have to tell me if there’s more. Anything. You hear me, Cam? You are—heh, way too hot to be given another body anyway, you know that right? Yeah, so—we are not getting there. We are not, okay? We are not.” A faint laugh manages to light up her features and she tries to muster a bit of hope for him. Whatever much she has in her. Although worried, deadly worried for him, if there’s anything she wishes she had learned from him after all this time hanging around, looking at him, mocking yet watching, was how easily he managed to make her believe that there could be some good waiting just around the corner.

And right now. Right now—she needed him to believe that, at least for a little while.

“Cam, you are listening, right? Hey… hey, hey, hey, I’m right here. I’m right here, okay? Hey…”

[choicelesshope-aa]

          plus est en vous; there is more in you.

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@getlostsqdwrd​ said: SPOT TO KISS + 29 a kiss on the inside of the wrist. ( for crowley ! ) spots to kiss. || not accepting for now !

Finding a reason why he felt like this sometimes was… probably bigger and far too complicated a task to even try. You could—give a thought if you wanted to ( God knew he had done that, probably more than just twice over the last millennia ) but it always ended up in those dead ends that rather gave him a headache instead of some resolution, some sense of victory over his own whiny, far too self-sabotaging psyche that he couldn’t easily escape. So—the easy way to put it was that sometimes HE JUST woke up like that, feeling more tired than usual, heavier than the days before, finding it hard to leave his place and actually go and do something that wasn’t laying on his couch, thinking about nothing and everything at all. Thinking, that was key to this, fixing on elements of the past and how he didn’t want AND WANTED to dissect every little part of them to dwell on his mistakes. Or someone’s mistakes. Or whatever tramp there was that he could use against him like the annoying little bastard that he certainly knew how to be.

So, there he was.

For how long had he been staring at the floor trapped in the minefield of his mind, he can’t remember. The draining feeling over his body making it feel like it has been an eternity since the last time he said a word or took a step somewhere, anywhere at all. And perhaps—this was the natural order of things, he thought. Perhaps if nothing had changed this would have gone on like it always did, a few more hours of brooding, a day or two at most. Every sensation fading and then not caring about it for a couple more years or decades. Once again, as it always went. 

As it always was—except for now.

Aziraphale took his wrist and Crowley shivered because of that, surprised by his unexpected arrival and silently ashamed for being seen like this, in such a pitiful state. No words crossed his mouth and apparently no thought performed an appearance in him either. He is silent, expectant. Confused. His eyes lock with his and there’s no hiding that there’s something happening with him: he is not capable of that much right now. Barely, he feels only functional enough to mutter his name and remain in one piece when he approaches his body, placing a loving kiss on the inside of his wrist, and defeating him with the force of that one endlessly moving gesture. That quiet sign of his signature kindness.

“Is this a habit of yours now? Sneaking in private property?” He laughs—against any expectation of that, he releases a soft, broken sound and slides his hand over his; holding it in place as he lowers his face, presses his lips, and tries to get over it. Reach any state that could allow a conversation, any exchange. Anything that wasn’t this silence and the awful knot in his throat.

Maybe, in a while. Maybe—as long as he and the ghost of that kiss remained for another minute or so with him.

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Maleficent (2014) dir. Robert Stromberg

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Or perhaps in Slytherin you’ll make your real friends. These cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends.

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i’m sorry for anyone who ever expected a short, concise answer from my side or is still hoping for that to happen? because I CANNOT CONTROL MYSELF and i’ll no longer try to act as if that could be possible in the future 

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thiefreign​:

WAR.  A  PLACE  EUGENE  WOULD  HAVE  NEVER  EXPECTED  TO  FIND    himself during his many years as flynn rider. back when his self preservation trumped anyone else’s. the idea of brotherhood or loyalty to a kingdom was completely LAUGHABLE.  and at first he didn’t care about corona.  he cared about rapunzel: the woman he loved.  and she loved and cared for corona.  she cared so deeply for the kingdom she was pulled from as a baby.  it was that love that inspired him to open his eyes ( and heart ) a bit wider.  and he soon too feel in love with the island and its people.  it was where he started to fall for the princess.  it’s where their first journey ended.  they’d fought a LITERAL demon in order to keep their small piece of paradise safe.  and it was because of that love he was given the captain’s helmet during the toughest of times and why he kept the title even after zhan tiri was defeated and their friend was returned. 

back then zhan tiri seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen to corona.  now eugene would argue the war was far worse. pain dragged out so much longer and the LOSS felt so much greater.  there was no magic to help them bring back the solider they’d lost in these battles. 

eugene still remembered the day this all began like it was yesterday.  there had be rumors of threats of war floating around the castle. . hostile visitors left the king more tense.  more and more lettered seemed to be delivered on the daily.  eugene had been called to the throne room.  there sat the king queen and princess.  the look on rapunzel’s face was one he could not place.  it was a painful mix of fear, anxiety, confidence, love and pride.  it was in those halls that king fredrick announced the war.  and it was in those walls that he promoted eugene from captain of the guard to general of the coronian army. 

with the title of general,  came growing pains.  each mistake eugene made meant a loss ( often many ) of an innocent coronian person who placed their trust in him to win the war.  what RIGHT did he have to lead these people?  all he had were some books and brains to pick of allied generals.  but NO experience.  worse of all were the boys in his ranks.  most no older than varian.  some he suspected younger.  it was their deaths that hung on eugene’s shoulders the heaviest.  war was no place for boys and yet they couldn’t afford to send them home.  they were here willing and ready to fight. 

it was nighttime when their enemies raised their white flag and asked to be escorted to eugene’s tent.  at first he feared it was a cruel trick.  he heard of such things happening in war but surely surrender wasn’t in their enemies cards.  it didn’t FEEL like they were winning.  and yet the surrender was real.  they’d drafted up a truce and sent it to the KING.  the time between the response seemed to drag on forever.  

they were told to come home. eugene felt his heart race in anticipation on the journey home.  the war had aged him since he was able to sleep in his own bed.  wrinkles now indented on his forehead and crowfeet were more prominent by his eyes.  even specs of grey littered his brown locks.  but none of mattered now.  the only thing that mattered was seeing her.  they’d been greeted by the king.  it was still far too early for most.  eugene was assured the queen and princess would join them for breakfast shortly when the doors FLEW open.  one look at her and eugene felt his heart begin to race.   ❝   aw, sunshine, you didn’t need to get all dressed up for me  ❞   he teased as he took in her disheveled hair and nightgown. 

The door finally opens and whatever pace time was trying to keep stops right there, right between them. Exactly like it was supposed to be.

It’s insane to think how someone you used to know better than yourself awakened now a sense of unexpected wonder, surprise. Something—akin to what the treasures of your childhood could bring when you pick them up after a decade or many more. You know them! you know that much. You know you had all their details memorized, that you spent day in and day out looking at them; taking them with you when you had something else to do, returning to those when safety was needed and you could find it in the old pages of a book, or the worn-out painting of your favorite toy. And those images live in your memories, you could swear you can recall them perfectly, but it takes one look—just one look years after and suddenly there are things that weren’t there before, that escaped the inscriptions of your mind and clashed with whatever certainty you used to have about them.

Well—the lines in his face are the first of those discoveries for her. The first of many, as she will find out soon enough.

It takes her a few steps to really see them with clarity ( the kind of steps you take with caution, as in a dream you don’t want to wake up from ) and—while there’s some notion that she could rush this part ( it’s been so long since the last time she ran into his arms, kissed his lips and got drown in the smell of his skin ) all at the same time there’s some sort of unspoken magic in the beauty of exploring his expression, the gallant tone of his look despite the weariness of his state. Another step, her hand reaches his cheek and she notices the silver in his hair and the harsh memories in the corners of his eyes. This is him, this is the man she loves. The man who rescued her and the one she saved back all that time ago. This is him, new and old; hers, and hopefully, hers forevermore.

“It’s you…” She finally cried; softly, a quiet hush delivered with the biggest smile. “It’s really you—!” Yes, she cried, and it took her only two sudden breaths before she threw herself into his arms and found the easing shelter of his body; the well-known shape of his love. “I missed you. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you so much. I—I can’t believe you are here, you really are here.”

And she can sense the hesitant movements of several soldiers and servants all around them, no one really knowing what to do or how to react to such a scene. But she finds it hard to care, hard to feel like an apology is owed when she retreats just a little and looks at him, tears blurring her vision but confirming all she knows so far: that this is the happiest moments of her life and that there was so much to do and say before it was over. 

( over like all things have to be despite her wishes. despite how much she needs these moments to last )

“Now, about being dressed up, I—maybe it’s just me, but I think you have a little too much on you for the long-overdue nap that you certainly deserve, general. Wouldn’t you—let me escort you to your room so we can discuss that?” Her father seemed like wanting to intercede but her mother cut him off before any word even left his mouth. Knowing, perhaps better than almost everyone out there, how needed such break was before life could be resumed. And so, while eagerly waiting, Rapunzel held his hand in the two of hers and stood there before he was ready to instruct his company and agree to follow her inside.

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Please reblog if you play a character who is 30 years of age or older

I don’t care if it’s an OC or a canon character, and while I play a human, I don’t care if your fandom isn’t but for the love of god, why is everyone in their twenties? Give me some mid thirties or even some fourties. Hell, throw me some silver foxes. Please.