#character: RJ

[waltzshouldbewriting]

Sacrifices: RJ, part 1

Part of @whgmasterofceremonies round 22

“Rosetta Johnson.”

The name echoed through the town square, where everyone was gathered for the reaping. All around RJ, teenagers slumped in relief that it was not their name being called. All except for her.

Now was not the time to freeze.

RJ shoved through the teenagers around her, reaching the peacekeepers just as they came looking for the unlucky girl whose name had been called. RJ kept her head held high as she marched up to the stage.

The cameras were all pointed at her. RJ swallowed the anxiety down, kept her fists from clenching. She wasn’t scared of a little attention.

She wasn’t scared of anything.

Her family wasn’t rich, but they definitely weren’t the poorest. They could afford nice dresses for the reaping - hers was bright red, as was her sister’s - and RJ had even bought a hair clip with a fabric rose. At eighteen, she was a little heavier than the typical tribute, and a little taller. Maybe she made an impression, on camera - big enough to be a threat, pretty and bright like a poisonous flower.

In the audience, RJ’s sister stood shock still.

“The hair piece is very appropriate,” the escort commented, voice dripping in a Capitol accent. “Rosetta.”

“I go by RJ.”

She heard some muttering. Maybe some had realized what happened, but no one raised any objections.

“RJ,” the escort repeated.

After all, RJ was Rosetta Johnson’s initials too. And no one, save their parents, had ever been able to tell them apart.

Their parents named them Ruby and Rosetta Jones, each after a shade of red.

Red was supposed to bring good luck and good fortune. It might seem silly, to believe a name or a color brought good luck. But there wasn’t much they could do to protect their daughters, so they did all they could.

Having identical twins was confusing enough, but the similar names made it worse, so Rosetta was shortened to Zetta and Ruby to RJ.

And they were identical in many ways. They both grew out their hair, spending time doing each other’s up in different styles. They dressed similar, made similar facial expressions, had the same cadence in their voices.

But the more they grew up, the more Zetta became the quieter of the two and RJ the louder. Zetta had no preference for colors, but RJ leaned into the red theme. Red was more than good luck - it was the color of fire, of blood, of sunsets and sunrises, and of the trumpet flowers that sometimes grew in the cracks of the sidewalks and roads.

Both of them wore red for the reapings, and for the small new year celebrations after the victory tour each year. RJ bought a hair clip with a fabric rose on it, and Zetta found a necklace with a fake ruby.

And a hen RJ heard her sister’s name come out of the escort’s mouth, she knew what she needed to do.

[waltzshouldbewriting]

part-time soulmates (full-time problem)

[protosymphonette]

fo4 stupid junk

[beentobeetle]

Goofers. goobers,,

(Third character, Buttons, is owned by @galoogamelady !!)

I couldn’t get the Buttons and MacCready content out of my head and�� thinking of stirring Michael into that mix… the shenanigans are impalpable. They are without palp.

[rjdrawsstuff]

Is anybody on here old enough to remember Hey Arnold?

[waltzshouldbewriting]

ID start: photo of three people cuddling, each hugging the person in front of them and curling around each other with their legs. End ID

ID start: line art of the image above, with three different people cuddling each other. ID end

From left to right: Rat, Shandiin, RJ

Draw your ot3 like this <3

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

I just think it'd be really funny if he

[funtheysaid]

iwtv brainrot is at an all-time high, i fear

[wassupmygays]

"Throwing it back to hopping the bus to Herald Square."

photos by Andy Henderson, via the Outsiders Facebook

[waltzshouldbewriting]

(This is unedited)

For a second, Neuron felt nothing. No sense of feeling, or touch, no sense of anyone around him, no sound or sight.

And then, suddenly, the presence of others - four strangers, each surprised and startled - followed by the smell of dust. His sense of touch returned next, and with it his sense of gravity and temperature: he was laying down on his back somewhere with rough ground and hot air. He could hear the high-pitched whine of old electronics, and the lingering taste of smoke in his mouth, and then - finally - his sight came back.

The four strangers were staring at him with wide eyes. None of them were armed, nor were they ready to attack. Behind them, a cavernous empty room stretched. Bright fluorescent lights hung from the high ceiling, one of the lights flickering slightly and another shining only half as bright. There was a pile of supplies - backpacks, blankets, and something that might’ve been a bow - in one corner. No places to hide traps or weapons.

Neuron mentally checked himself over for injuries. He was starting to get a headache, but he felt no sharp pains or dull bruises. Whatever had transported him here hadn’t harmed him.

But where was he?

Neuron pushed himself onto his elbows to get a better look at the strangers. They all tensed at the movement - not hostile, but nervous.

Only one was in arm’s reach - someone who looked a few years younger than Neuron, with short blonde hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. The person was unscratched, despite torn-up clothes - likely invincible - and was crouched down, one hand out as if to protect the others.

The person in front said something, and it took a second for Neuron’s brain to catch up. It was in English - with some type of a North American accent.

“Please don’t be mad at us?” Another person said - the one farthest to Neuron’s left. They looked eighteen, at most, standing off to the side with hands shoved in pockets. The person had light brown skin and dark brown eyes, messy chin-length hair, and a large sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants.

“He doesn’t even know what’s going on yet,” the person in front said.

“What is going on?” Neuron asked.

“You got kidnapped,” the person in front stated.

“But not by us!” The second person said. “We are very anti kidnapping.”

“We can explain,” another person said - the one nearest to the person in front. “My name’s Rat. I’m the oldest, so I guess that means I’m in charge.”

Rat had a scar over one eye that gave him an experienced look, but even then he didn’t look much older than the others. He had blue eyes, suntanned skin, and blonde hair, and worn-out clothes covered in dust and patches.

“He’s not the oldest by much,” the person in front said.

“That’s Ariel,” Rat said. “She’s friendlier than she looks.”

Ariel scowled.

“I’m RJ,” the fourth person added. “And the bundle of nerves next to me is Monsoon.”

RJ also had patches on her clothes - mostly on her shoulders and knees. Her black hair was pulled back out of her face, showing off a bruise on one cheek - with her pale skin, the bruise really stood out.

“Hi,” Monsoon said.

“Like Ariel said,” Rat continued. “You were kidnapped, and now you’re here-”

“- and it isn’t our fault,” Monsoon added.

“And you’re with us,” Rat said.

“And we’re on the run,” Ariel added.

“And we’re on the run,” Rat agreed. “Which sucks.”

“The government here sucks,” RJ added.

“Everything here sucks,” Ariel muttered.

“And where is here?” Neuron asked.

The four of them exchanged glances, a worried energy forming. It was almost familiar - it reminded Neuron of debriefs where a scientist or expert had to deliver really weird news. We looked into what caused the explosions, and we think that someone engineered exploding ants. Or the perpetrators belong to a group who is trying to make fruit flies extinct.

“So, um,” Rat started, “well…”

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[waltzshouldbewriting]

And for another round

ID start: two picrews of two different characters from the chest up. The one on the left shows someone with pale skin, wide brown eyes, fangs, and black messy hair dyed red at the ends in a ponytail. The one on the right has someone with light brown skin, brown eyes, and straight black hair in a ponytail with a rose attached to her hair. She is wearing a red leather jacket and the background has a rainbow flag. End ID

Propaganda/moodboards

ID start: a six-photo collage in three rows. The top has someone in a black boot standing next to a black hat, and a photo of a black silhouette reflected in water on a stone pathway, flipped upside down. The middle shows a person with short black hair and a lacy black top sitting at a table holding a flower, and a glass window from Notre Dame. The bottom has teapot pouring into a cup of tea, and a bat flying. End ID

Dracula

ID start: eight-photo collage. The top two show a red sunset and a photo of someone in a red sweatshirt looking away and holding the hand of the photographer. The next two are someone holding a red neon light shaped like a heart, and a lit heart-shaped candle. Third row has a black and white photo of a rose and a close up of a red rose. The bottom shows someone in a red sweatshirt with paint on her hand and face and a bush with red flowers. Text on the photos read “promise me/when you see/a red rose/you’ll think of me.” The text is white save for the word red, which is red. End ID

RJ +”Ghost of a Rose” by Blackmore’s Night (plus a small lyric change)

[sirmanmister]

Cready doodles cuz my phone almost ran out of power at work lol I’m out of practice

[uhhlifeig]

Potions Dungeons - Nov. 26 - word count: 345 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Potions classroom was damp, the dim light of enchanted lanterns flickering against the stone walls. 

Sirius Black settled into his usual seat beside Remus Lupin, watching as Slughorn bustled to the front.

“Today,” the man announced once he was at the front of the classroom, “you’ll be brewing Amortentia. I hope you know what it does, as we have studied the concept for a few weeks now. Instructions are on the board. Begin.”

Remus went to the storeroom to grab the ingredients, coming back to Sirius leaning back in his chair, twirling his wand idly. His stomach fluttered, but he pushed the feeling down, sitting and placing the materials on the desk.

The dog animagus looked at his friend, putting his wand away and pulling out a knife from his Potions kit. “I’ll chop the mint, Moony.”

“Try not to slice your finger off,” the dirty blonde snarked.

As they finished, the potion began to shimmer, and a mist rose in soft spirals, curling into the air like ghostly tendrils.

“That’s it,” Remus said. “It’s done.”

Sirius leaned closer to the cauldron, inhaling deeply.

He blinked, turning to look at his Potions partner. “Weird.”

Remus frowned, wafting some of the mist into his nose. He froze as the scents enveloped him: smoke, grass, and leather- as well as a whiff of wet dog.

“No way,” he whispered. “No fucking way. Sirius?”

The noiret evidently heard, looking him straight in the eyes and smirking.  “Do you have anything to say to me, Moons?”

The werewolf blushed. “I- er, well-”

“Continue…”

“Padfoot… will you go out with me?” The words practically flew out of Remus’s mouth, causing him to turn even more red and cover his face in embarrassment.

Sirius smiled, gently prying his friend’s hands from his face, causing the scarred boy to look at him. “Of course I will. All you had to do was ask, mon cœur.”

“God, Sirius- are you trying to kill me? This is unfair,” the younger boy groaned, the tips of his ears turning red. “French? In class? Really?”

[waltzshouldbewriting]

Neither Rat nor RJ has moot, but Monsoon and Neuron do

ok the last post was infodump friendly. this one is NOT.

i expect you to explain your/something about your magic system as badly as possible. i want to be confused. i want to lack context.

i'll start:

big wyrm gives off radiation that is also magic. ohhh no gas.

[ufologyexpert]

here's some sketches i forgot to post

more under the cut because there's a fair amount

[beentobeetle]

Sometimes, SOMETIMES, I let characters have fun

Buttons is owned by @galoogamelady !!