#wild fuckin day in history

[radio-ghost-cooks]

before it gets to be too late!

i hope you've all had a happy:

International Worker's Day (began in 1886 after the Haymarket affair)

May Day

Pluto's birthday (well, kind of. the name "Pluto" was officially proposed in 1930)

Anniversary of the recognition of Scotland as an independent state (1328)

Anniversary of England and Scotland becoming Great Britain, ironically (1707)

Abolition of the slave trade in the British Empire (1807)

Anniversary of adhesive postage stamps (1840)

Anniversary of the dedication of the Empire State Building (1931)

Anniversary of the development of the polio vaccine (1956)

Anniversary of the first man to reach the North Pole solo (1978)

Swedish legalization of same-sex marriage (2009)

[no27-autonation-honda]

you know there's a real missed opportunity of not making versions of like the real housewives franchise in comics. you look me in the eyes and you goddamned tell me that the real housewives of gotham or central city doesn't fucking SMACK in the dc universe and give atlanta and rhony a run for the crown

[inoreuct]

what if, and hear me out: sanji one day grabs zoro's hand so they could run together away from some bad guy and zoro develops a dreadfully deep seated longing to hold sanji's hand (when he's not cooking ofc). it drives him insane. he cant sleep. sanji's hand is so Soft. Why??? Why does he want to feel it again??? he wants to yell into the sunset

they're sprinting through the streets, skidding into random alleyways and falling over each other as they try to outrun whoever's chasing them and sanji's laughing, head thrown back and eyes blue as the damn sky, his hair in absolute disarray. he's beautiful and his hand is warm and slim and strong around zoro's and it hits zoro like a fucking bullet to the heart.

the memory haunts him like a particularly persistent ghost. he closes his eyes and all he can think about is sanji's fingers laced with his, lightly calloused, nails filed down to a perfect glossy sheen and skin butter-smooth from the hand cream that the cook is so adamant about using. his laugh rings in zoro's ears like the echo of a bell, merry, taunting— the swordsman is half-sure he’s losing his mind. he is one more restless night away from climbing to the top of the main mast and hollering until he scares seagulls up into the air.

as it turns out, he does not go seagull scaring. he carries on and keeps an iron grip on his self-control and acts like nothing’s wrong, because nothing’s wrong! it’s all fine! it’s all fine, who, him? peachy fuckin’ keen.

…yeah, right.

sanji’s fingertips brush his and he nearly drops the plate he’s just taken. the cook hip-checks him out of the way and he damn near chokes on a breath. they spar and he almost dies, not just because of everything, but also because sanji gets his thighs around zoro’s neck in a chokehold and zoro just gives up. throws in the proverbial towel. he doesn’t even try to get out of it.

strong, slender fingers drag him by the ear back to the men’s cabin to pick up your fucking clothes, marimo, what is this? a pigsty? because it looks like one and it smells like one, do you really expect me to— and sanji cuts himself off, because zoro’s. picking up his clothes. he looks so bewildered at the lack of protest that zoro almost laughs, and he hides it by bending down to snag a pair of pants peeking out from under his bunk. (he decidedly does not laugh, because it has suddenly hit him that he’d probably do just about anything sanji asked him to. he might complain, sure, but he’d do it—

and that is a terrifying thought to entertain.)

the days carry on, and it doesn’t get any better; hell, zoro would say it gets so much worse. his heart seems to recognise every touch of sanji’s skin as cause to go absolutely fucking bonkers; chopper literally asks him if he has a family history of arrhythmia. it’s that bad. he tries to go to sleep and imagines sanji, one bunk up, in his bunk instead, his fingers tangled in flaxen hair, his free hand laced with sanji’s. he eats dinner and gets hit with a pang of desire to help with the dishes so strong that he almost stabs himself in the face with his fork. there is something wrong with him, he thinks profoundly, a familiar sense of gloomy dread spreading in his sternum as he rests his chin in his hand, like an oil spill marbled through with potent fondness.

they’re forced to get their shit together in the end but only because luffy manages to get them locked in the galley while franky is “too occupied” to get them out. (he isn’t. he’s sunbathing on the damn deck and absolutely in on the plan.)

zoro’s barely breathing as he goes up to sanji, eyes wild, and as soon as the cook looks at him he smacks a big fat kiss on his mouth and yells OKAY BYE. he’s seriously considering jumping out the porthole window but someone snags his collar and yanks him back, pinning him in against the countertop.

“and where do you think you’re going?” sanji purrs, but it’s breathless. his eyes are sea-sky-sapphire blue, like the heart of a flame, and zoro is the stupid little moth that was too damn dumb to fly away when he could and now he’s in the thick of it and he’s burning up, smoke drifting like it does from the tip of sanji’s cigarette.

the edge of the counter digs into his back. “nowhere,” he breathes, and it’s a lie and too much of the truth all at once. anywhere away from here. nowhere away from you. nowhere i can’t find you. nowhere you can’t follow.

sanji sucks in a trembling breath, electric eyes searching for something in zoro’s face, and he must find it because the next moment zoro’s being kissed within an inch of his life and the only thought in his head is yes, yes, yes. finally. yes.

they walk out red-faced, hair mussed, clothes twisted, avoiding all eye contact and immediately darting off to opposite ends of the ship with mumbled excuses.

zoro’s mouth is kiss-bruised and his head is spinning. his hip aches where he’d banged into the edge of the table. his heart aches where he’s finally let go of the wound he’d been holding shut for ages because now it’s bleeding afresh and sanji hasn’t stitched it up yet.

(but that night, as he lays awake heavy-limbed and staring at the bottom of a bunk, long legs swing over the side. sanji drops down, angling himself to land on zoro with a soft oof.

they talk. it is easier, somehow, when they cannot see each other— but zoro knows those blue, blue eyes are on him. he feels them slip shut, lashes dragging against the pad of his thumb as he tilts sanji’s face for another kiss; softer, this time. gentle. a banked flame flickering in the hearth, warmth and not destruction.

they fit together like their hands do, puzzle-piece natural, and it feels like coming home. zoro hasn’t known home in a very, very long time.

he buries his face in silky, sweet-smelling hair and falls asleep with sanji’s pulse thrumming beneath his palm.

come morning, he wakes to find the sheets twisted around them, a dull ache blooming across his shin— sanji’s a kicker. being privy to this information delights him an unreasonable amount.

the cook stretches with a loud yawn, arms falling to rest around zoro’s neck as he rubs his socked feet together. “come make breakfast with me,” he mumbles, the words muffled against zoro’s shoulder—

and zoro finally lets himself laugh, lets it bubble out of him like champagne, a rumble in his chest. “sure, curly. five more minutes.”

he feels impossibly light. five minutes turn into ten, and ten into twenty. they both fall back asleep. their captain will have to settle breakfast himself for the day; their cook’s hands are, unfortunately, otherwise occupied.)

[sweetnsour1]

10:16

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

“Oh so you are fuckin’ alive.”

You attempted your best impression of his red glare. It was less satisfying when the hulking blonde in your doorway didn’t even try to reciprocate it. You forced the aggression to stay on your features, determined to ignore the way his eyes looked more like Aizawa’s than his own, or the way his hair was still filthy and sticking in more directions than usual, or the way he seemed to be out of breath even though you were only on the second floor. You definitely ignored all of that as you stood your ground, refusing to let him move past you.

“Can I come in…please?”

You huffed and walked away, leaving the door open. You made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, letting the cabinet slam closed as you moved to the fridge. You set the water in front of him as he fell into his usual seat at the counter. He drank it all, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand as he set the cup down so slowly...as if it would shatter.

It was easy to avoid the intensity of his bloodshot eyes. You didn't want to look at him at all, but you couldn't resist the habitual urge to scan his body for injuries. He looked more dirty than injured, covered in rubble dust, dirt, and Todoroki's ash. You noticed a new scar along his shoulder, but no blood marked his form anywhere. You grabbed the glass, turning to refill it.

“Why are you here?” The only sound was the splash of water. You didn't try to fill the silence with anything else. You set the cup in front of him again, pulling your hand from his reach just in time to avoid it.

“I was worried. I came as soon as I landed.”

“Worried? You haven’t talked to me in days.” Something inside twisted at the way his soft drawl didn't match the anger in your tone.

“Yea...because you haven’t picked up your fucking phone in days.”

“What?”

“I kept fuckin’ calling and your shit kept fuckin’ sending me to voicemail.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, quickly navigating to the call history. “You didn’t call-” Your thumb froze over the blocked voicemails, finding 28 blaringly red notifications. “Oh...shitfuck.” You backed away from the predatory gaze you could sense was locked onto you. Your eyes were still on your phone screen as the chair scraped across the floor. The counter was already pressing against your back. You were out of space and options, so you looked up. Your breath caught at the wild look on his face.

"What's wrong, princess?"

“Okay, so I forgot you said you had to use a burner and my phone was still sort of set to block anything not from a contact…so I-“

“Ya fuckin’ blocked me?” Half a smirk tugged his lips up, but it did nothing to alleviate the intensity of those red eyes.

“I didn’t…not on purpose?”

“That makes it all better, huh?” He was close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from his palms. Had he used his quirk to get here from the airport? “Because it was an accident?” You gasped at the speed of his movements. You went rigid in surprise for less than a moment. It was too easy to relax against his embrace. He buried his head against your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly it nearly hurt. “Do you know how hard it was to not fuckin' be here?" His voice got softer with each nuzzle against your skin. "How hard you made it to focus on anything else?" You ran your fingers through his grimy hair. "Thought I lost you, idiot.”

“Hmm, so I’m not a princess anymore.” The huff he gave tickled.

“Princess idiot.”

Masterlist

[monzamash]

down under — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you | 1.3k summary – daniel receives a gift from a friend on the morning of the aus gp. warnings – 18+ (sex, course language) a/n – just wild, wild thoughts and prompts from @percervall & @estevries — both legends and brilliant writers. thank you for inspiring something so fun x masterlist

A loud yelp followed by a chesty laugh caught your attention as you stood in front of the hotel’s en suite mirror, putting on your face for the day. Daniel had answered the door and received whatever it was concierge had brought to your room. For you, it was too early to be bothered by anyone – the long haul flight that Daniel had warned you about had killed your mood and regret immediately set in while you tossed and turned all night, wishing you had heeded his warnings and flown to Australia earlier in the week with him.

The jet lag alone was bad enough without misty rain sweeping past the large sky-scraping windows, dampening the city and your already miserable spirit. There was no place you would rather be though – supporting and loving on your man for his first grand prix appearance of the season. It had been tough for both of you watching afar, the good and the bad memories flooding back. Recent history.

But Daniel had reassured you that he was at peace with his choices, happy to be a guest on the sidelines and you believed him. His smile was brighter, his painfully lame jokes were funnier and his charming disposition oozing contentment, finally returned. He was free to be who he wanted to be and to do whatever the fuck he wanted, when he wanted. Including annoying the absolute shit out of you every chance he got.

“Oh, honey! You gotta come out here and see these!” Daniel shouted from behind the door separating the two of you, closed by design so you could get through your morning routine without interruption.

“I’m drying my hair! Can you wait?��

He couldn’t. The door sliding open triggered an eye roll; knowing your kind hearted, generous boyfriend was barging in without invitation, giggles still bubbling away behind pursed lips, failing to suppress his little snorts. The whirring echo of your hairdryer diminished as you switched it off and set it down on the countertop, clipping the rest of your hair up before giving Daniel so much as a look – or a death stare.

“What do ya reckon?” He asked, patting your backside a couple of times to get your attention, bare feet tapping on the cold tiles as if he was jumping on the spot behind you. He was.

You sighed softly to yourself, prepared to plaster on a smile through gritted teeth for him as you spun around but you didn’t need to. The quick glance at Daniel’s goofy smile was brief before your eyes instantly trailed down his bare torso and landed on the only piece of material sheathing his toned body.

All that was covering him from being stark naked was a pair of skin tight Australian flag patterned budgy smugglers. Nothing else and truth be told, they weren't full-coverage. Not even a little bit.

“What the fuck are those?!” You gasped, a laugh slipping from your lips before you could clasp your hand over your mouth, shocked by the sight.

“Hot, right?” Of course he loved himself sick in them.

"Is that what concierge just dropped off? Who sent them?" You asked incredulously, reaching out and grabbing the small card hanging from Daniel's fingertips.

"It's a bucks night present from Scotty – apparently he wants all the boys to be matching when we go out on Sunday night," He replied with a raspy chuckle, aware of how strange that sounded and you couldn't help but roll your eyes when you read, 'don't cock it up and let the boys down' as you finished reading the note.

"You two fuckin' worry me sometimes..."

Your eyebrows had a life of their own, quirked so high on your forehead you were certain they had risen off your face entirely as you glanced down again. Yes, Daniel was hot, insanely so, but even you could see past all the abs and sexiness and admit he looked ridiculous, posing in front of you and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind your head, smiling from ear to ear at how hilarious he looked. Blue steel activated.

“Want me to model these for ya?” He teased, poking his butt out and flexing his muscles like a body builder would.

“Seriously though – yeah or nah?”

“For what exactly?” You scoffed, unsure of what kind of yeah-nah, open-ended question you were dealing with before answering.

Daniel shrugged and bent his knees, eyebrows scrunched with a grimace, “I dunno,” He grunted, hand squeezing between his skin and the seams of the speedos, readjusting his situation in the tight confines. Some would say too tight.

“They are certainly something though…”

“Sexy? Sickening? Extremely flattering? Give me something to stroke my ego with for fucks sake,” He joked but genuinely wanted to know what your true feelings were behind that lip bite and pursed smile.

“Well they make you look massive…”

You threw that line out there for him, hoping he would bite.

“Duh, because I am massive.”

“… well,”

Your pause provoked Daniel, gasping at your insinuation as his hand immediately reached out and grabbed your jutted hips. His calloused fingertips brushing against your exposed, sensitive skin drew a high-pitched scream from your throat before catching you off guard and tickling the opposite side even harder, both watery-eyed from the uncontrollable laugher.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! You are! You are massive!”

You shouted loudly, palms pressed to his bare chest that was rising and falling from the dwindling laughter, curls tickling your skin as he kissed your neck softly, panting. Skin sweet from the shower you'd just taken without him, pout no longer lingering from that saga.

Daniel stifled a laugh against your ear at your proclamation, never tiring of hearing how satisfied you were with his attributes.

“I haven’t gotten any complaints so far in life so thank you for clearing that up, honey,” He sarcastically replied as you pushed him back gently, needing to get another peep at the speedos before they disappeared forever.

“They are so bloody tight, Daniel - that's why I can't stop giggling but I guess that's so everything doesn't fall out,” You reasoned, covering your blushing smile and trying not to laugh again. It was just too much, too early for you.

Daniel looked down, tugged on the waistband and glanced back up with a mischievous smirk, eyebrows wiggling as he closed the gap between the two of you again. You knew where this was going.

“Getting tighter by the second too, you know...”

Considering how tight the material was around his manhood to begin with, his voice was lot deeper than you expected in such constricting conditions. Between the seductive brown eyes practically undressing your partially clothed body and his hands roaming your waist again, reaching around to get a grip on your backside before hoisting you up on the counter, you were struggling to think of a reason to stop him.

Really, really struggling.

“Okay, big boy – simmer down. You have a press meeting in an hour so get out of the bathroom,” You ordered meekly, unconvincingly.

Daniel didn’t budge; his smirk flaring when he saw the devious glimmer in his eyes reflected back at him. He had you right where he wanted – fingertips tracing the bold 'of love and life' script inked on his clavicle forever, travelling south.

“I’m always fashionably late – you know this,” He taunted in response to your shallowed demands, peeking down and nudging forward between your thighs that he had spread with his strong hands, chuckling as he closed the inches separating you. Tantalisingly touching through thin material, breathlessly so.

“You are a walking fashion crime right now,” You retorted, pecking his puffy bottom lip and capturing the skin between your sharp teeth, assessing how far he was about to push you with limited time.

“Don’t test me, baby. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The gruffness in his voice strained his words as he whispered into your lips, the question tumbling down your throat along with your inaudible response. Every whine, every moan was muffled by the deep kiss he was pressing to your lips, tongues searching for one another amongst the desire that was burning within.

“We don’t have time for this,” You whispered and gently knocked Daniel back from between your thighs so you could hop down off the warm marbled counter. You were immediately met by a loud, 'noooo' protest from the man standing practically naked in front of you.

That was until you grabbed a fluffy white towel from the shelf behind him, chucked it on the ground and dropped to your knees with a smirk. You rested your palms on the sides of his muscular thighs, mind wandering until you remembered why you were down here, knees already tender but dulled by the ache between your own.

“I’m feeling particularly patriotic this morning – any idea why?”

Daniel shakily exhaled as your finger traced the white lines of the union jack, his eyes fluttering shut for a split second. He had finally realised what you meant – you didn’t have time for a quickie but the thought of having your warm lips wrapped around him had him throbbing in the tight polyester, large hand cupping your soft cheek as he gazed down into your matching lust-filled pupils.

“Want me to sing the national anthem while you suck me off?”

His crude question made you laugh as your eyes devoured what was being presented to you in a neatly sealed package. He was deliciously stiff when he sprung free, tip glistening – a whole goddamn meal served in red, white a blue. Nature’s gift.

"Go on then."

a//n – this is what you came for, right? 😂 just a little something to get my writing juices flowing again and to those new to the blog – hi! welcome to my mind lol x masterlist | askbox

[unknown7s]

I dunno, just my general thoughts on Arcane fandom discourse these days:

Ok, I know that the majority turned to love demonising Silco so unilaterally nowadays (whether it's twitter/tiktoc/reddit..) even though the showrunners themselves have stated that there is no set villain. While this is sad to watch how media illiteracy has gone wild, it's actually frustrating AND fearful because I get the strong feeling of how the dominant mass media really is effective in pushing non-first-world-western-white agendas to the margins and silencing minority voices.

Let me be clear before someone say "but fiction and real world problem/history are different" - YES I FUCKIN KNOW, thank you very much. Surely I can clarify the distinction between them. However, what I'm saying is that it is also true that fiction has a profound impact on the way viewers perceive reality.

I come from a background where my country is built upon a history of people who fought by any means necessary to overthrow imperialist oppressors in 20C (and they were not just "freedom fighters" but all kinds of ideologists from right-wing nationalists to left-wing marxists all together fighting for one goal) to gain independent nation. There were reasons why people had to fight without regard to morality or a particular ideology during that time in order to overthrow the whole system. And in reality, these methods cannot be morally flawless or without side effects - just like how Shimmer is the perfect metaphorical symbol of that in Arcane and thus the episode title is "The Base Violence Necessary for Change". Moreover, in reality the ppl/country that colonised us still defines those who fought for the independent nation as terrorists or criminals to convince that they are the so-called "wrongdoers" (which is not so ironic is it? if you think about how Piltover-side "champions" react to them and what their primary goal is in S2 trailers).

Coming from this part of the historical view, I can't help but understand and support Silco's agenda and sympathise of what his mind had gone through. Not just him but Sevika and Jinx as well (which is why it's a hoot to see some of their fans HATE Silco and I'm like 'jeez do these people even know what the mental/political heritage is? Those characters are built upon his legacy, and the showrunners & writers clearly know what they are doing'). Well, more precisely, because I come from a non-anglowhite world where we had gone through these complex history of independence movement and developmental dictatorship issue, it feels clearer to me where the showrunners - especially Alex Yee since he wrote almost every dialogue of Silco - got their ideas from which part of history & politics and what perspective they are trying to convey through these characters who believe in "the nation of Zaun".

So whenever I see how Arcane fandom discourses are so violent in hating so-called "villains", I really cannot fathom how much they are based on the inadvertently-western-central-imperialistic-and-capitalistic perspective... but then again, this is just some marginalised viewer's thought right? lol

[tightjeansjavi]

Jail Bird | Joel Miller x smuggler/raider f! reader | part 2

“All I’ve Ever Known Is You”

A/N: and so we have reached the conclusion of this tragic story of unrequited love. I warned y’all earlier that this would be a doozy. Tread carefully.

~word count: 2.4k~

Summary: Joel Miller refuses to let you go, and it proves to be a costly choice.

Warnings: major character death, depictions of violence, fatal gunshot, angst, grief, regret, emotional manipulation, mentions of blood, stalking, refusal to let a person go, anger, stubbornness, obsession, unrequited love, pining, possessive behavior, actions have consequences, lots of imagery used, dark themes, Joel is an emotional mess, protective! Joel, darkish! Joel, grieving! Joel, sprinkle of PTSD from the night Sarah died, this content may be disturbing for some viewers. Please read the warnings carefully, and do not proceed if this sort of content upsets you. +18 minors dni!

Cornered: (of a person or animal) forced into a place or situation from which it is hard to escape.

"nothing is more dangerous than a cornered wild beast"

Joel had no recollection of how many hours had passed since you locked him away in this cell. He should have known better than to trust you. He beat himself up over the fact that he let his guard down that easily. What the fuck was he thinking? You kissed him and suddenly nothing else mattered. He should have sensed you were going to trick him. Maybe if his mind wasn’t so clouded, he would have stopped you when he still had the chance.

“What do you mean you don’t know where your brother is, Tommy?” Ellie was walking alongside her uncle from the mess-hall, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to lock out the chill.

“I haven’t seen him in hours El. He’s been actin’ fuckin’ strange these past few days, ever since we brought that woman in from the woods. For all we know, he skipped town or somethin.’”

“My dad wouldn’t just leave without telling one of us. That’s bullshit. Where’s the jail located? Wasn’t he interrogating her or something?” Ellie quickened her pace to keep up with her uncle.

“Yeah, you’re right, kid. He wouldn't skip town like that. That’s unlike my brother, especially now. We’ll go and check the jail and see if he’s there.”

Joel pulled himself up to his feet with a heavy grunt when he heard the main door open with a loud creak. For a split second he thought maybe it was you returning to him, but that sliver of hope was quickly vanquished when Tommy and Ellie came into his peripheral.

“Joel?! What in the hell are you fuckin’ doin’ in there?!” Tommy was already pulling out his spare keys from his pocket and quickly unlocked the cell door. “What the hell happened?!”

Joel looked up with a defeated expression on his face. His eyes were rimmed red with glassy tears pooling in his irises. Ellie was at his side with her arms wrapping around him, hugging him tightly to her. “Dad, what happened?”

Joel leaned into the comforting touch that his daughter unconditionally provided for him. A heavy sigh passed through his cracked lips as his gaze fell upon his younger brother. “She tricked me.” Was all he could utter.

“Tricked you how?” Tommy scrubbed his hand across his face, shaking his head to himself. “She over power you or somethin?’”

“She kissed me, alright? She fuckin’ kissed me..and I fell right into her goddamn trap.” Joel’s tone was bitter, laced with frustration as Ellie helped him to his feet.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Joel? How long ago was this?”

“A few hours ago? I don’t know. She just fuckin’ locked me in here and ran. I told you when we brought her in that we have..history. I know I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that but—”

“Yeah you told me that she left you back in the QZ, and you spent all your time fuckin’ lookin’ for her. Maria said one of the horses was stolen right before dinner, so it’s gotta be your jailbird, brother.”

“Will you help me go out there and find her, Tommy? Please? I think she was just scared that somethin’ was gonna happen to her here, and that’s why she ran. If we leave her out there, she’s gonna die. I don’t want that on my conscience.” His arm was lightly draped around Ellie’s shoulders.

“Are you fuckin’—fine. I’ll grab a couple of the guys and we’ll go and look for her. She must mean a lot to ya if you’re willin’ to take these lengths. What’re you gonna do if we find her, and she doesn’t want to come back?” The three of them left the jail cell and treaded back out into the bitter cold.

“I’ll jus’ hav’to find a way to convince her to come back.” Joel stated what he believed to be the obvious. It wasn’t a matter of if he would find you. He would find you, and he’d do whatever it would take to convince you to come home with him.

The horses were saddled up with four men, including Joel and Tommy at the front. Maria told her husband that going after this jailbird was beyond stupid, and he agreed. He just had a rather difficult time telling his brother no after all the years they spent apart. Ellie didn’t like the idea either, but Joel always came back home to her. He always promised to return so this time would be no different as he kissed the top of her head, and smoothed down her hair gently. “Don’t worry about me kiddo. I promise I’ll be home as soon as we find her.”

“I know, Dad. Just be careful, okay?” She hugged him tightly.

“Always am.” Joel promised her.

The further away you were from Joel, and Jackson, the more at peace you began to feel. You didn’t believe that escaping jail would be that easy, but as soon as Joel fell into your perfectly calculated trap, you knew it was your ticket out and that you couldn’t waste another second. You had no idea where you were going to go now, and with darkness falling quickly, it would take a miracle for you to survive the cold cold night that lay ahead.

You had endured worse conditions before, and the chill didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. You listened to the comforting crunch of snow beneath your horses hooves as your heart thrummed gently in your chest. Joel would have to be a fool to come after you now..or so you thought. Your moment of calm was fiercely destroyed when you heard the thundering of hooves approaching in the distance.

Joel fucking Miller just wouldn’t give up.

You heard him call out your name as a desperate plea through the once still snowy forest. It echoed through the surrounding evergreens, ricocheted off your thundering heart like a pinball machine. You eased your horse into a canter, desperate to escape Joel’s nearing approach.

Please! Please stop runnin’ from me darlin’! I don’t want to chase you, but you're leaving me no other choice!

He was closer now, far too close for comfort.

Your hopes for escape were cut short when your exit route was impassable due to the rushing river that stretched for miles on end. You eased your horse to a halt, frantically looking around as if you were a scared doe being narrowed on by a pack of wolves. The wind howled as you were reaching for your gun just as Joel, Tommy and two other men emerged on horseback through the snowy evergreens.

“Stay back! Stay back or I will fuckin’ shoot!” Your voice trembled like a branch being jostled through a harsh wind. Your finger held steady over the trigger despite your nerves and the frantic look in your eyes.

Joel cautiously dismounted from his horse with his hands above his head to show you that he didn’t come to harm you. He just came to ‘rescue’ you and bring you back home where you belonged. “Easy. Easy. I’m not gonna harm ya darlin.’ Please put the gun down, and then let’s talk. Okay?” His tone was soft, reassuring but it caused bile to rise deep from the pits of your stomach. You didn’t want to go home with him. You wanted to never see Joel Miller ever again.

“Like hell I’m going to put my gun down!” Your horse took a nervous sidestep to the left, nearly slipping into the icy depths below. “You need to fuckin’ let me go, Joel! I don’t want you!” You kept one hand on the trigger as you carefully dismounted from your horse.

“You know I can’t do that darlin.’ You know I can’t. Please just come home with me. We can put this all aside! C’mon. You’ll freeze to death out here.” He pleaded with you with an outstretched hand in your direction.

“I’d rather fucking freeze to death out here than go anywhere with you. Take five steps back right fucking now, or I shoot. Why can’t you just let me go? Why can’t you just fucking move on! I don’t love you, Joel. I never have, and I never will. What we had years ago was good, it was fun, but you’re chasing a fucking ghost. What you want from me is something I am not capable of giving you. You need to move on.” Now you were the one pleading with him. You didn’t want to have to shoot but if it meant that Joel Miller would never be in your life again…

“You don’t love me, sweet girl? That’s bullshit and you know it. All that time we spent together? It meant fuck all to you? I don’t believe it! You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar, and you’re making this way harder than it needs to be! Please, stop fighting me. You’re breakin’ my fuckin’ heart, baby.” He didn’t listen to your demand for him to take five steps back and instead took two cautious steps forward.

“I am NOT your sweet girl! I never was Joel! Stop trying to convince yourself that I have ever cared for you below a surface level! The only liar here is yourself. Now, you can turn around and go home and forget all about me. It’s for your own fucking good. You think that one day I’ll wake up and suddenly develop feelings for you? That’s not how the world works! That’s never how it worked, and you just have to accept that!” You kept the barrel of your gun trained on him as he stepped closer to you.

“Joel, maybe we should just—” Tommy tried to reason with his brother.

“No, Tommy! She’s comin’ home with me one way or a fuckin’ other.” He didn’t even look back at his brother as he took another step forward. His eyes were desperately pleading with you to give in and you truly were beginning to feel like a cornered doe with a pack of vicious wolves caving in.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You saw Joel reach out to grasp your arm and the second he did, you went to shove him away. Screaming profanities at him with tears stinging your eyes. Your screams died in your raw throat when a gunshot shot rang through the air. It was not your own gun. It all happened so fast as the bullet tore through the flesh of your heart, where Joel had once built a home there. The windows shattered, the wood splintered, and the bed exploded into a cloud of down feathers. The house he forged with his bare hands laid in a pile of ash as you sank to your knees. Dark crimson blood pooled through the layers of clothing on your body as you struggled to take your final breaths.

Everything around you began to grow fuzzy as your lashes fluttered. The sensation of blood draining from your body like the rushing stream was eerily calming. You had never been afraid to die. Not when the world had gone to shit, and everyday could be the day that you would depart the living realm. The once white snow was stained scarlet as you slumped into Joel’s arms with one final breath.

Joel felt his own life flash before his eyes as the bullet tore through your flesh. It all happened so fast and there was nothing he could do to stop it as you slumped into him. He desperately pressed down on the wound as more blood filtered through your body. His hands were stained in it along with his clothes. There was so much blood and so little time. “No no no. Fuck! No. You are not dyin’ on me like this!” He relived images of Sarah dying in his arms flash through his brain as he let out a bone chilling sob.

“Tommy! Help me! Fuckin’ help me!” He finally looked over his shoulder at his brother who could only stare back from where he sat on his horse.

“SOMEBODY FUCKIN’ HELP ME!” He screamed as he clutched your body against his chest, rocking your slumped form as he cried into your cold shoulder.

No one moved a muscle. No one said a word as Joel held you for one last time.

Your body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as Joel struggled to lift you into his arms. Your eyes forever unmoving, staring up at him with a ghostly film falling upon your once vibrant irises. Your body grew cold. Colder than the temperatures outside and the skin around your lips was fading blue. Your time living on earth's hell hole was over.

“Who fuckin’ shot her.” Joel’s tone was deep and threatening as he trudged through the snow with your deceased form limp in his arms. “WHO FUCKIN’ SHOT HER?!?!” His voice cracked as fresh tears began to fall and land along your icy skin.

“ILL FUCKIN’ KILL—”

Tommy was already hopping down from his horse to attempt to console his wrecked brother.

The man who shot you was known to be trigger happy. He only acted on impulse when you had moved to shove Joel away. He was already riding far far away from the scene when he realized what he had just done.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME TOMMY!” Joel used the strength he had left to shove his brother away from him.

Tommy’s own heart broke when he witnessed Joel struggle to secure your deceased body onto your horse. All the younger Miller Brother could do was watch, and the image that laid before him would never leave his mind.

The only two people to attend your funeral were Joel and Ellie. He dug your grave in the town's cemetery. It took hours due to the ground being so hard and frozen. Ellie was there for emotional support. She might have never met you, but you meant something to her dad, and she wanted to be there for him in those final moments.

He laid your wrapped body into the cold dark earth below. His body had spent all of his tears, but that didn’t stop the physical dry sobs to part from his soul. He pressed a kiss to your covered head, whispering that he would once see you again. Your headstone was hand carved in stone by him, and when it was all said and done, Joel and Ellie stood above your grave, arms wrapped loosely around one another as her head gently rested along his shoulder.

“Who..was she to you, dad?” Ellie softly asked.

Joel slowly looks over at his daughter, his lips curving up into a gentle smile. He inhales, exhales with a puff of cold air departing his lips, “just someone I used to know, a long time ago, kiddo.”

Joel Miller had finally let you go.

Tagging people I think will enjoy! @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @darkroastjoel @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42

[jade-of-mourning]

listen the idea of lin & mako having history pre-canon is the funniest shit to me ever idk why it's just funny especially seeing how their relationship casually evolves throughout the series

edit: i wrote this before getting around to rewatch and i drastically failed in my characterization of lin please forgive me

There's a ratty kid running messages in the middle of a busted underground drug transaction. He gets arrested with the rest of the participants who didn’t scram fast enough and is taken to the station — where he promptly escapes his juvenile cell before he can get pulled in for interrogation. Lin knows his type, thin-faced with eyes older than their body, and she hopes that this is the last she sees of him, because she hates having to deal with kids involved in crime.

Two months later, she's on the night patrol when she runs onto the scene of a Triad raid. There's a small firebender wielding flame and settling the building ablaze, stark against the black sky; she makes eye contact with him and realizes that it's that ratty, slippery kid who had been running messages. As more officers arrive on the scene and quell the flames, she snatches him before he can flee with the rest. He's snarling sparks and biting at air with his teeth, kicking his feet viciously in an attempt to escape the metal cables wrapped around his body, and she hauls him into the station and sits his ass down in the interrogation room, where he gets his first mugshot taken and she fills out the paperwork to send him back to an orphanage. A few days later, she reads an offhand report that a kid’s run away.

She doesn't see him again until a year later in the aftermath of a violent robbery, this time hauled in the back of a getaway car that their pursuers don't catch. There's a woman lying in water with smoke coming off her body, and Lin can see the lichtenberg figures crawling over her skin.

They're on a stakeout on a warehouse when he fires lightning through the window, shattering glass. Lin's yelling orders and fighting off a triad of gangsters, and as whips her cables around the last man, she turns around to see the now-teenager whipping lightning through her officers' metal suits and kicking flames through the air. He spits in her face when she captures him in earth and breaks away the back to cuff his hands and calls her the worst of 'em all, the mighty fuckin' Chief of Police herself. He's sitting in the interrogation room with his hands bound to the table and infinitely subdued, dead silent under the weight of her gaze, meeting her eyes with a hard dirty gold edge. His face is still thin and young the way it'd been years ago, bones still jutting out of his cheeks, hair chopped unevenly and falling across his brow. You must be close to Zolt, to have learned lightning to any level of proficiency, let alone been taught, she says to him, and he scowls and hisses like a feral pygmy-puma and doesn't speak a word. His second mugshot gets stored in his growing file. She learns from other subjects of interrogation that he's Zolt's project and intended successor should he survive long enough, learns of their general resentment towards him. Someone still busts him out of jail by the next night.

He's way too involved in the underground for anyone's liking. He's Zolt's protege and he's constantly involved in raids and exchanges and assaults. He's often the last one fighting off several officers until he's captured by Lin, the warehouse scenario playing out over and over again: he's shooting lightning and spitting fire and fighting viciously until his blood is in his eyes, absolutely wild without reservation. He vomits insults at the police out of his mouth while driven to the station, curses them for the lack of care the world's ever shown towards him and his brother. Every time he ends up in a jail cell and the guards look away for a minute, he's managed to slip away, a slippery bastard eel-shark. He quits his silence, tears into her and her job over interrogation rooms in handcuffs and still escapes despite it all. (He even manages to snatch the blasted red scarf out of her office while on the way out. What the fuck.) He's got nearly half a dozen mugshots accumulated in his folder at the station, each one documenting his eyes darkening to a harder gold, the growth of bruises around his neck, evidence of his increasing inability to fill out his skin.

And then he vanishes. At first she doesn't notice, but his absence becomes more evident as Zolt's work begins showing up with increasing frequency rather than his favorite errand-runner. She doesn't really give a shit about the little asshole fire-spitting punk who'd only caused trouble while running with the triads, a notable accomplice in harassing the city for the past four years — but she also can't help but wonder what happened to him. No body ever turns up and she eventually forgets about him; crime never stops.

Imagine her fucking surprise when three years later, he's suddenly best friends with an even more asshole fire-spitting punk: the Avatar. She sees him in the City Hall when she comes to assert her support for the pro-bending arena, doesn't register who he is until he turns in surprise and narrows his eyes at her, familiar in the cold fire behind them. She realizes that he’s the Mako she’s been hearing on the radio, the rapidly rising star of the sport. She also doesn’t get the chance to address any of this madness before Tenzin drags her aside, and then the world moves too fast for her to figure out how the fuck he’s involved in this mess. She sees him fight now and she knows that he knows she knows, but they don't acknowledge it at all because there's too much more at stake. His voice is still low and scratchy, but it's now carefully articulate, no sign of vicious vitriol and derision that had once spilled from his lips, just reservation and consideration.

Their non-interaction lasts until after the entire Amon ordeal is (somewhat) resolved and her bending is restored. She confronts him, grudgingly acknowledges his role in saving the city, then flatly declares that she doesn't trust him for shit. He glares her down for a moment before the familiar fire fades from his eyes and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. He says that he’s trying to be a better man now, that he cares deeply for the people around him now, that he doesn’t ever want to turn back to who he was forced to have been because it was never who he wanted to be. She tells him that she can’t let him go unanswered for his crimes from when he was younger; he begs her to not ruin everything that he’s worked so hard to make for himself. It’s unexpected for all that she thought she knew of him, the desperation open on a face no longer carved by starvation.

And Lin knows in her heart that he’s trying. She can see it in the way he looks at Korra like she cradles the sun in her palms, the way he puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder and opens his arm to embrace, the way he talks to the Sato girl with softened edges and keeps his eyes on her face, not her pockets. But she can’t trust that trying of itself is enough. It comes to her: she needs to keep an eye on him, and he needs a stable job (— kids like him who’ve managed to crawl out of the gutter are always on the hunt for one after all, despite how rarely they find it).

So she offers him an application for the force, tells him that she’ll turn a blind eye to his past if performs this service under her watch. She admits he’s got a good head on his shoulders, that he’s a good fighter — she would know —, and states that if he’s truly so determined to do right, then he should be extending that to the city as well. He looks at her and asks, Do I really have a choice? 

She looks at him wryly, raises an eyebrow. I don’t have much of a choice myself, now do I? she tells him.

other random mako-related tumblr writings i did: x / x

this is also kind of the only way i can picture mako joining the rpcd initially, because it actually makes no sense to me lmfao. how he got involved, that is. like i can definitely see him being super passionate about it and ultimately coming to enjoy working for this fictional police force, probably finding some kind of self-appointed redemption for himself as a kid, but also how did this get started in the first place. consider me baffled.

… i kinda wanna write a oneshot on this now. oops. goddamnit </3

spat this out in maybe two hours cuz i thought it was funny. i'm still writing That Fic, it's almost 10k long somehow and i think i need to delete about half of it, but we'll see lmfaooo

also here's a wip on him i started that i may or may not ever finish

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

ghost of a smile.

sirius said, “you fall in love with anything with a pulse.” so naturally james proves him wrong.

tags: james potter x reader,, they/them pronouns,, you’re a ghost,, sirius is vv protective of james,, wolfstar (it wasn’t supposed to be but then when i kept writing it just felt right),, crack,, age gap(???),, magical inter-racial relationships(???)

“prongs, it’s a fuckin’ ghost.”

“i love them.”

“it’s a ghost!” sirius punctuated the sentence by grabbing james by the shoulders and literally shaking him to sanity. but proved to be futile as the messy haired man clicks his tongue and shrugs off sirius’ hand as if it offended him.

“i know that, and my feelings won’t change. they make me feel alive.”

sirius groans, oh the irony, eyes wild in disbelief and turning to the rest, hopefully as exasperated and bewildered as he is. the look on his face as if saying, can you believe this guy?!

peter still looks disturbed and mooney looks like he’s trying to understand what james’ thought process was.

but that’s the thing. there is no thought. that’s why they’re in this situation in the first place. sirius likes to think there is no sane person to fancy an incorporeal being. much less, ugh, love them.

but leave it to james to prove him wrong. sirius almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“i know you like to go above and beyond expectations. but when i said you can fall in love with anything with a pulse, i didn’t mean for it to be a challenge.”

you cleared your throat, “i’m guessing this isn’t the best time.” you interjected sheepishly. hovering just a little above the floor. sirius thinks you almost look like a normal student. if normal students were translucent and dead.

when nobody said anything, but gave sheepish (remus and peter), worried (james) and judging (sirius) looks.

“i should just go and let you gentlemen talk things through. i’ll see you later james.”

“no don’t go,” he pouted. actually pouted! the love sick fool. “i’ll come with you.”

you shook your head, translucent hair swaying with the movement. “no it’s alright, you can stay and talk with your friends.” you smiled.

you gave him an encouraging nudge, or so to speak, since he can’t really feel you. because, again—dead.

james just nodded, and like a puppy, stayed.

once you were gone, remus was the first to speak,

“james, i think what sirius is trying to say here is how did this even happen?” remus asks softly, scratching his cheek, like he does when the puzzle he’s solving isn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

james sighs, he actually sighs like a besotted maiden, “i was— just a lost soul,” sirius blanched. “—wandering on this earth and then i met them, my beautiful love.”

“that isn’t the only lost soul that day, i bet.” sirius scoffs.

completely ignoring sirius now, james continues, “and then it just feels like everything clicked into place. they were always there when i needed someone to talk to. they were always so warm and kind. they always listened to me, they don’t make fun of my feelings. they don’t disregard them. they’re so beautiful and so smart. they’re crazy smart, knows a lot of things about history and all. you two would get along well, mooney.”

“they should know about history considering they died in it.” sirius hiss out but ultimately ignored.

“but james…” remus starts, and sirius almost sighs in relief at least somebody was also using their brain.

but then james interrupts, “i know they’re a ghost, and there’s not much else i can do about that. but remus, i can feel them. when we talk, i know they understand me and i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about someone before.”

sirius rolls his eyes, having heard a similar speech when james said he fell in love with the store clerk in a muggle record shop in london.

sirius wanted so badly to scream out louder, in hopes to wake his friend from his delusion.

james clearly isn’t sound of mind right now. and it’s his duty as his best mate to help him. with the help of remus, they can do it. so he took the first step.

“james—“

“i think that’s beautiful james.” remus cut in.

sirius have never felt so betrayed in his life. and by remus of all people. and his face made sure to show this betrayal. lips curling into a horrified gape, eyes in a frenzy of rage.

remus clicks his tongue at him and covers his face with his large warm hand.

“thank you remus.” his crazy friend gave his crazier friend a lopsided smile.

hells, he was even blushing.

“are you fucking serious right now remus? they’re dead!” he shouted, muffled by remus’ hand.

remus ignored him turning to a now frowning james, “why don’t you go ahead and catch up with them while i talk to sirius quickly.”

james gave sirius a brief look and nodded. walking back, searching for the poltergeist in the castle.

“what’s wrong with you?!” remus hissed once james was out of sight.

sirius removing the hand on his mouth, growling as he says, “me?! i’m not the one getting it on with a soul, remus. what you’re okay with this?”

“yes,” remus gave a noncommittal shrug, “i’d be okay with it even if you were the one totally enamoured by a ghost.”

sirius gave him a dead look, “you’d be okay with your boyfriend in love with a ghost.”

remus rolls his eyes, a light dust of pink glowing on his cheeks and ears, “not like that, i just mean if the situation was different, you’d want somebody to support you. besides, it’s james, i’m sure this is all harmless.”

“harmless?! am i really the only thinking this is down right strange? i mean it’s a spirit for merlin’s sake! i know my family isn’t exactly picky with their romantic counterparts, fucking cousins and all, so i might not be the best person to defend my case. but this is a dead thing! a ghost. haunting hogwarts. that has to cross some boundary, right?”

remus softly groaning in frustration, “do you think i don’t know that? of course i think this is crazy! but what else could we do? when has james ever listened to us? especially with his penchant for following skirts.”

“and the occasional pants.” peter added with a shrug.

“it’s even crazier that you agree with me but is still willing to let this go on?!”

“if it’s anything like his previous escapades then i’m sure this won’t last as long.” remus sighs, rubbing his neck and stretching his neck.

“ultimately, let him make a fool of himself then. great idea.”

“i think we should trust james more,” peter shrugged, “i mean i’ve seen more weird pairings than a wizard and a ghost. my neighbour’s first boyfriend was a goblin, you know.”

remus lifts his hand to peter, as if to say, see? peter gets it!

“et tu peter?” sirius deadpanned. “traitors. both of you.” turning away as he swiftly walks away from the group.

“what did i do?” peter calls out to him.

“you, especially were no help!” sirius shouted back. his huffs and angry steps echoing in the stone castle.

if they weren’t going to stop james from being barmy then it’s up to him to stop this from going further.

it was a week later and james was still dating the damn ghost. he was even off celebrating some obscure couple holiday. maybe it was your death anniversary, who knows. sweet circe, james is down bad.

sirius slammed a thick dusty old book in the quiet corner of the library.

madam pince already looking over to them aggressively hushing the group.

remus immediately called out a flustered apology before turning to sirius to whisper.

“what is that?”

with smug grin and a hand on his narrow hips, “this, my sweet mooney, is the answer to our haunting problem.”

an ancient, dusty, dirty book that was practically falling apart titled, polly’s practical practices to the paranormal and poltergeists.

“i told you to leave it.” remus clicking his tongue and glaring at the overly smug man.

peter gingerly grabbed the book and started to comb through the pages. “how is this going to help?”

“go to page 189, it talks about exorcisms.” leaning over peter’s shoulders.

“you’re going to exorcist james’ lover?” the tone remus used was full of judgment and condensation. and sirius does not welcome that energy into his space. so, he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms— ready to shut down the negative energy.

“it also says on page 7 that ghosts are simply souls that are unable to cross through the spiritual realm. so if anything, i’m doing them a favour.”

peter chewing his lip in contemplation. “shouldn’t we tell james about this first?”

“james is biased, therefore his opinion is invalid.”

remus leaning back into his seat in a slump, “james is a grown man. he can decide for himself what he wants to do in his free time, even if that includes hanging around with a ghost all day.”

sirius feels a twitch in his eye coming. remus for every ounce of his prettiness, equates that to his stubbornness. so you can just imagine how stubborn this man is when he wants to be.

“babe,” sirius groans out, “i don’t understand how you can just let james make a fool of himself like this!—“ there’s a distinct shushing sound, and sirius looks over to sheepishly nod in apology, continuing in a much lower but just as aggressive tone, “he’s dating a fucking ghost, and i’m going to stop it, okay?”

remus levelled him with a glare. “have you even tried getting to know them?”

“the ghost?”

remus levels him with a stare, “they have a name.”

“whatever.” sirius scoffs before straightening up and looking at two of his friends betrayal dawning on his face, “don’t tell m—“

“i’ve gotten to know them very well actually, peter has too. hung out multiple times now.”

“you have? since when? how? why didn’t you tell me?”

peter, closing the book softly, “since james told us, they’re actually pretty cool. not as mental as the other ghosts for one.”

sirius gawks, the familiar sting of disappointment and betrayal brewing in his navel. “and you didn’t think to inform me of this development?!”

“mr. black, please leave the premises if you can’t keep the decorum expected in the library!”

“—sorry!” sirius calls back, before turning back to them, whispering harshly, “some friends you are.” swiftly grabbing the book back.

“someone has to be since you’ve refused to talk to james.”

“because he’s gone crazy, i don’t talk to crazy people— already had enough of that from my mother.”

remus now reaching for the book and reading the table of contents, “how do you even know if this book is accurate?”

sirius rolls his eyes, “it’s the only book left about ghosts,”

remus raised an eyebrow at that, “the only book left? or you just don’t know where to look?”

peter snickered. “considering this is the longest time he’s been in the library for the last six years, i’m guessing he doesn’t even have a library card.”

sirius let out a quiet gasp, petulant as he defends, “this is not the longest time, i know where the sections are.”

“right. well good luck on whatever it is you’re planning. if i wasn’t clear enough— i want no part of this whatsoever, assuming it all blows up in your face.” remus raising a scarred hand in the air and sauntering away.

sirius clicks his tongue, annoyed, “peter, hand me some parchment. i need to make notes about cleansing haunted areas.”

sirius already has a solid plan. he had thought of everything! he’s already practiced the ceremony in the dorms, with peter acting like the ghost. he even practiced drawing the runes and the enunciation of the incantations. he just needs to know where you usually reside in the castle, so he can draw the runes.

the only problem is, he doesn’t know where you are and what better way to know than from romeo, himself.

“james,” sirius calls out.

“here we go.” he hears peter wince, but resolutely ignoring him.

taking a deep breath, “i want to apologize for the way i acted, you deserve to be happy. and if they make you as happy as you say they do, then okay. as your best mate, i’m going to be more supportive of you.”

james, like a big softie that he is, immediately beamed a smile, grabbing sirius by the shoulders and crushing him into a hug.

“i knew you’d come around!” he gushed in his ear. sounding so utterly elated that he almost feels guilty for lying. but he has to do this. for james. “sirius you’re my brother! of course, i forgive you! i don’t think i can even go on for longer not speaking to you. bugged me like mad.”

remus all but looked at sirius in complete suspicion, which he ignores in favour of looking as earnest as he possibly could. peter looking down right nervous as his gaze filters through all three of them.

“to prove my support. i want to meet y/n and be their friend. get to know them a little bit better.”

and if it was even possible, james shone even brighter, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in excitement. he hadn’t seen that look on his face for quite some time now. looking equivocally happy.

“let’s go right now!”

“now?!”

“yeah, they should be on the third floor.” james grinned. walking a brisk pace and everyone jogging to keep up.

“what are you doing?” remus whispered as he power walked beside him.

sirius feigned innocence, “i’m supporting my best mate.”

remus frowned, not buying it, “and this is after you exorcise them or? or do you plan on damning their soul now?”

sirius clicked his tongue, “you told me to support james and when i do, you doubt me. it’s like you don’t love me.”

“you better be supporting james or i swear to god—“

“so james!” looking ahead, resolutely ignoring the stare burning to the side of his face. “anything i should know before meeting this special apparition of yours?”sirius says, lips stretching into an easy smile.

james slowed his pace, perfectly chirpy to divulge any information about his lover. glowing pink on his cheeks as he starts, “well, they’ve been a ghost in hogwarts since 1902, they were sorted in—“

“do you know how they died?” sirius cut off. resulting in a rude elbow jab from remus and a small frown from peter.

“what?” he said indignantly. isn’t that a vital question to ask? asking how a ghost died?

“they said there was an incident, an ogre got into the castle and, um, killed them,”

yikes.

the book said ghosts may not know how they died. associating their willingness to pass because they haven’t had the closure to move on. though if you knew how you died, it seems counter-productive to tell you about your death in order for you to pass on. so that’s crossed out.

“so are they secretly disembowelled or something? like almost-headless nick?”

james looked back and pursed his lips, gaze turning a little bit sharper, “no, they look perfectly okay. beautiful even.”

oh sure, he thought.

“they do,” remus piped up giving him a stern look. as if he heard him, “very pretty.”

sirius rolls his eyes, “oh of course, puts veela’s to shame, i’m sure.” waving his hand, opting for nonchalance as he continues, “so, what do you usually talk about with them then? surely common interests with an old ghost is hard to find.”

“they’re actually quite young compared to the other ghosts. that’s why they mostly keep to themselves on this floor.”

sirius grimace, fighting a shiver down his spine. “yes being over sixty. very young.”

james glared at him, and he raised his arms in surrender, “just joking.”

“—we talk about a lot of things, quidditch is one.”

“quidditch.” he repeated. do ghosts even follow the leagues?

remus placing an arm around james, “they used to play quidditch, a chaser.”

“quite good too, found their name on past rosters in the library.” peter grinned.

james beamed, encouraged by the others to prattle on. louder and faster like he can’t help but talk about you. like he was just waiting for a reason to. “and they liked potions, helps me study sometimes—“

“study.” he repeated. “with your ghost lover.”

“—oh, we’re here! my love?” james calling out into the alcoves and the barren hall. “i bought my friends, are you here?”

and then like a chill going up his spine, you showed up. floating a hair just above the ground, making it look like as if you’re walking.

you were a pale translucent thing. he had hardly looked at you the first time he’s seen you. confidently thinking he didn’t have to until james inevitably moves on from you. frankly, he didn’t know what to expect once he saw you, again. maybe look a bit alive, since his very much alive friend is very much in love with you.

you looked pretty, sure. but it was nothing to write home about. certainly not the kind that he would be willing to overlook the state of your mortality. but yeah, sure, pretty.

he almost wants to rolls his eyes.

“james, i was going to look for you.” you breathed. looking equally enamoured.

“what for my love?” he asks.

then you noticed the other approaching individuals, “oh hello, remus, peter, and—?“

“this is sirius, remember? i told you about him, didn’t i?” james but all grinned, going up to you and raising his hand as if to touch you. if he even can.

you looked like thin sheets blowing in the wind. if thin sheets can talk and haunt.

“that you did.” you laughed, and then your hand started to look fuckin’ solid. like a solid, human hand grabbing james’ and even squeezing back.

“nice to see you again, y/n, how have you been?” peter smiled.

you shrugged, smiling a little strained. “still very much dead, and here. thanks.”

sirius looked at your joined hands. tight and secure.

remus nudges him out of stupor and he flashes a strained smile.

so you can materialize. at least that answers some questions. though it opens a new array of questions for him now. questions he has no problem vocalizing.

“you can materialize?”

you turn to him, looking beyond nonchalant and relaxed with the whole situation. you obviously also hold no objections to the peculiar relationship. looking all too willing to be james’ dead lover.

“if i try hard enough, yes.”

“how long can you materialize?”

“if it’s just my hands, i can probably hold for a good hour or so.”

the book didn’t mention this.

sirius looks at you, up and down, apprehensive and suspicious. “can every ghost do this then?”

“i think so, though i haven’t seen them attempt it. i’m guessing they never really had any reason to.” you turn to james and grin at him. like some secret was just shared.

james looked at you twice as bright and giddy. hopelessly, happy and pink.

sirius thinks he’s going to hurl.

“so, do you just go materializing your hand, touching school boys every decade or so?”

“pardon?”

“sirius!” remus hissed.

sirius smiles the fakest smile he has, “just a joke.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment. he can feel the heat of james glare and hear the insistent shuffling of peter to his side.

“why did you decide to date james? are you planning on possessing him for his living body?”

“sirius black!” remus grits out, pinching his side.

james stepped forward to shield you, a frown deep in his face, but you just tug at his arm, and he softens.

you laugh, “no, i don’t plan on possessing my boyfriend. as for why i’m dating him,” you turn to look at james again, sharing a secret smile again, “well, i quite like him.”

sirius clicks his tongue.

the night continued on. he asked questions, and you answered them.

he would be, admittedly, very difficult. maybe even down-right rude but you seem to assimilate to his attitude soon enough.

every jab and attack he would aim at you. you would receive with grace and an amused ghost smile.

eventually james wanted some alone time and sirius was just glad for a reason to finally leave.

“you know you could have been a bit nicer or at least decent to y/n.” remus hissed once james and casper went away.

“oh trust me, that was me being nice.” he scoffs.

“asking insensitive questions is not nice, last i checked.” peter said.

shaking his head, “i could have said it was fucking creepy that james is fucking dating a ghost. or maybe tell james he needs to make an appointment with a mind healer soon —that his impulsivity with the concept of “falling in love” is all twisted and, let’s face it, short-lived— pun-intended. i could write to fleamont that his son is fracking with a soul trapped in hogwarts! but i didn’t. trust me that was being nice.” he all but shouted, panting as his face blotched red.

“finally dropping your supporting your best mate agenda then, are you?”

sirius turns to remus, huffing and beyond betrayed, “have you not been listening?!”

remus clicks his tongue, “i understand, but it’s just as you said. all of this is short-lived that will eventually die out. so why bother stressing about it? y/n is a pretty cool spirit if you get to know them.”

“it’s a spirit from the 1900, what else is there to know?”

“you are a real piece of work.” remus giving him a hard glare, pulling at his fringe hard.

peter all quiet and mousy said, “i don’t even know why you’re so worked up about all this.”

sirius groans, “the reason why i’m so worked up about all this is, because it is james, we all know how he is. this is going to be another repeat of him falling for somebody, getting his hopes up and fall face down on the ground. and i’ve seen him fall way too many times to let it happen again. it’s a fucking ghost. there is no future with them. james doesn’t see reason, so it’s up to us to help him.”

remus blinked, and then sagged.

“i get it, okay? i get where you’re coming from. but i think out of everyone here, james is the one that understands this the most. just trust him on this. he’s not daft, he knows what he’s doing.”

“but what if he gets hurt again?”

“then we’ll be there for him.”

you can still somewhat hear them argue in the empty halls. you were sure james can too, if his frown was anything to go by.

“sirius is… lovely.” you hummed.

james groans, pulling you to to sit with him on one of the benches. “i’m so sorry about that, he’s just—“

you raise hand to stop his blabber, “i completely understand, he’s protective of you. i feel the same way.” you whispered.

james looks at you abashed and pink, before he looks away. still, rubbing his thumb to your knuckles even as it slowly becomes faint and pale, once again.

“he’ll warm up to you soon,” he nodded.

you smiled, “should i be worried if he doesn’t?”

he turns to you again, looking at you completely besotted, “you shouldn’t, he’ll like you.”

“you sound sure.”

“because i know him, and i know you. you are, after all, the most charming ghost in the castle.” he grins.

“what a title,” you softly sighed.

“just give him time,”

suddenly you’ve been reminded why you wanted to meet with him. you felt the phantom rhythm of your dead heart thrum through your veins. nervous after so many decades, funny.

“i’ve been reading, lately.”

“oh? about what?” he grins at you, cheeks a healthy glow of life and eyes bright like the light in the morning.

you almost falter, but thank merlin you don’t.

you were sure you wouldn’t be able to tell him if you postponed any more.

“about… leaving.”

“leaving?” he straightened. “what do you mean?”

you flowed to the other side of the room, higher than you would usually go, whenever you were with him. wanting to keep the illusion of normalcy of walking with him. like you were still alive. like a normal student with their boyfriend.

“i’ve been researching about this for a while, even before you came here—hogwarts, i mean, and i think i’ve found some sort of break through. this is what i wanted to talk to you about before— before meeting sirius and all that.”

“what like leaving the castle grounds? or—“ he gulps, looking absolutely terrified. “or leaving?”

you know he was smart enough to answer his own questions. but you also considered he would be in denial, unabashedly hopeful, so you clarified. “about passing on. leaving, for good. i’ve already talked to some other spirits in the castle, who wants to go too and some have already agreed.”

“but don’t you—“ james licked his lips, shifting one foot to the other, “don’t you want to stay with me?”

your chest is hollow, nay, non-existent. but the way he looks at you, his voice, and his warm hand reaching out to you, made you think your chest might be aching with pain.

for all your years in purgatory, haunting and never moving on. all these years of weaving through the halls, seeing different faces every year, it all seemed so short.

and the stretch of your time comprising of moments of when james potter was seeking you out. talking to you. making a companion out of you. and being with you. making you feel alive again.

he was young, bright, and callous, and rough. but he is also sweet, soft, and kind.

you knew from the start, this would never last.

you knew, like everyone else, that he’ll eventually leave too.

there was no life with you. that ended decades ago.

but he still has time.

“james,” you softly called out, floating over to him. thinking long and hard to be corporeal. even if it’s just your hands, so you could touch him.

“don’t.“ he looks down, biting down on his lips, refusing to look at you now. but he did nothing to move away from your hold, he never did, instead lifting his own to touch yours, soft yet firm. “don’t tell me some bull about living my life.”

you sigh, lifting his head to see his ever beautiful eyes, “but you have to.”

he softly shook his head in your hands, his grip tightening afraid to let go. “and i want to spend every moment i can with you,”

“and then what?” you ask.

he stops, his gaze moving all around your face, as if memorizing it to the fullest extent.

“i’m to stay now, and then you leave, and then i stay here? forever?”

he shook his head, pouting like kid, and you always endeared.

“i could get a job here and live here all year long, you can stay in my quarters where we can talk and be toge—“

you laugh letting him go, your hands turning translucent like before, like always. “there is no life with me, james. we’ve talked about this.” you look at him. you see his lip harshly bit down, gnawing, as he pulled to release the blood.

“you know this.“

james turns away from you. scratching his neck, his eyebrows furrowed. like the first time you saw him in the halls. after another failed attempt at wooing birds.

“i know.” he conceded. “i’ve been reading too. i’ve checked out books on how you can pass on. i think i’ve checked out every damn book about ghosts in the library.” he laughs bitterly.

you didn’t know this. he didn’t tell you. somehow that made the pain in your chest clench more. you always thought he would be against you leaving. something on your face must’ve shown this because he clarifies, before looking down again.

“i thought that if— i was the one to find the solution, find the way for you to move on, it wouldn’t feel— it wouldn’t hurt. i thought if it was on my own terms, i would be able to accept it easily. but i’m wrong, of course. it wouldn’t be that simple. especially not with you. with us.”

“you were looking for a way for me to pass on?” you ask gently, stopping low to catch his gaze.

he looked as earnest like the day you met him, nodding as he said, “because i know how miserable you felt. i know you—you don’t have enough reason to stay here any longer than you have. i know us, being together, isn’t reason enough for you to be stuck here for all eternity. i know this, but i was still hoping—”

“oh james,” you sighed.

“some irrational part of my brain wants you stay. i even thought of being with you here too. be with you after—“

“james potter.” you sharply cut in, gaze hardening in anger. but his gaze of despair made you soft and sigh again.

“i will not let you.”

you think of all the ghost trapped in the castle. you see them through the years, losing all sense of themselves more and more. becoming irate and miserable. seeing the same grounds, the same routines, the same days, mashing together in an endless cycle. never moving forward.

and then you see his eyes so full of love, and life, and bravery, and sweetness and roughness. even just thinking he might succumb to the cycle—

“i will not let you.” you repeated.

james reached out again, “i love you,”

you smiled at him, the faux fuzziness spreading down to your phantom toes. “you’ll find someone else to love james. someone who can spend more years of life with you, with so much love to give, i have no doubt about it.”

you think back to the boy crying with a broken rose in the halls, another heartache. the bright eyed look you see him give the person he’s chosen to love that day. another love. always so earnest, always with so much love that he has to give it to someone else.

you brush over his soft cheeks, committed to feeling him for the last time.

“do you—“ he breathed, leaning into your touch and bashfully looking down, “do you think i could see you on the other side?”

you gave a loop-sided smile, seriously how utterly charming, you thought. “i would like to think so. i can even greet you myself once you arrive if you’d like.”

he looks up at you, giving you a pretty smile, “yeah, okay.”

you didn’t leave immediately. you waited for another week.

james drew the runes for you, with sirius eagerly helping. you spent your last days, exploring the hidden parts of the castle with james, showing him all the secret passages you’ve come across. you spent your last day with james talking. taking in a full-body corporeal form and hugging him for the first time. and kissing him.

you left quietly, in the night when he was asleep.

he looked for you in the halls, the next morning, hoping you’d change your mind.

when you didn’t show after an hour, he left—blinking the embarrassing tears collecting in his eyes.

eventually though, james will move on. he doesn’t quite understand true love all that well yet. he’ll still mistake other feelings for love. maybe fall quickly. maybe love more than one person at the same time. eventually, he’ll fall in love, for real this time, find someone else to give his seemingly endless amount of love to and it’ll be returned ten-fold.

or at least it’s what sirius says to remus and peter. after remus reprimanded him for being too happy that you were gone.

extra:

later, when james opens the door on that halloween night. the living room glowing bright with green and the echoes of his son’s cries and his wife’s fast stomps upstairs. he would close his eyes in a swift end. thinking how peaceful it is, how quick— his face graced with a ghost of a smile, he would think of you, and hope you’re waiting on the other side.

[geekthefreakout]

I just had the unexpected pleasure and challenge of explaining the Valentine's Day Destiversary and Twitter Debacle to a new Supernatural fan and...

What a fuckin wild ride. What other piece of media has Events like this?

I might make a This Day in Supernatural History post about it later...

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

Volnutt explaining the Family tree to his friends is so fucking funny. Like I just know the look of their faces would be from extremely morbid confusion and horror. While volnutt does this Pepe Silvia thing by linking of the relationship possibly connected the wish’s and Cossack families. The reveal that Volnutt has a MASSIVE Family, filled with Uncles and Aunts in the form of the Robot masters and The light Sibling trio.

Some Dialog to accommodate it cause trash

Barret: Fuckin sparks Vol how far the tree even goes!? I mean how did you even know your relatives there!?

Volnutt: Well okay so…there’s this weird thing

thing that robots have in that era to be their identifiers like these numbers thing they have going on

Roll: So like IDs then? Kinda sounds like what Tron does with her Servbots, she gives them numbers to identify them.

Volnutt: Yeah! Something like that Dad said that ours is “DLN” standing…ummmm…Doctor Light Number.

Aero: “Doctor Light Number” that's a weird thing but makes sense since back in their Era. Back then Robots…didn’t have much freedom…especially the ones with sentience till Reploids where a thing

Barrett: Pretty messed up to begin with but hey it was wayyy before everything happened so can’t blame the humans tho.

Roll: Actually, I wonder if your dad has a number ID like the rest of the Robot Masters before becoming a carbon. Since he was the last creation of your grandfather.

Volnutt: Well…I did ask him but he went quiet…he just says that it doesn’t matter cause at the end of the day we’re still family so we don’t think about that much…plus we share the last name so I guess it makes sense. Plus it’s been thousands of years so it doesn’t make sense for him and us to have our Numbers.

Barret: Like Volnutt don’t wanna sound over dramatic, but your family is low key wild. Especially your old man cause by the sounds of it he’s REALLY OLD LIKE EVEN OLDER THAN OUR POPS! I mean learning history is great and all but doesn’t that mess you up considering how far back that lineage dates back? How do you think your Dad feels about this? Sheesh talk about the worlds oldest fossil-

Aero whacks Barrett upside the head: Hey! It’s rude to say that to Volty you Тупица! Our Папа is also just as old as him! And Uncle Zero too!

Barrett: Hey! Hey! Ow!! I know I know but Uncle X and Z is older than him ya know!!

Roll: It’s still rude!!

Volnutt: It’s fine guys, I mean it’s pretty overwhelming genuinely it’s okay! I get to learn so much and the Guardians always learn this stuff too. The stories and history lessons are pretty fun plus Dad doesn’t seem to mind it…kinda wonder if he misses them now that no one remembers them. But it’s our job to honor them at least! Plus Roll we do share the same name as Uncle Rock and Auntie Roll! So that means something!!

Roll: Yeah it’s probably a coincidence but still it means something!! We’ll make them proud for sure!

Volnutt: Yeah!!

(They high five each other)

Barrett chuckles: Dorks ya gotta love them

Aero: Yeah…Значит, мы не рассказываем им о том, как твой отец убил свою приемную семью, верно?

Barrett: Абсолютно

Volnutt and Roll: What are you guys saying?

Barrett and Aero: Nothing!

[djangodurango]

for the WIP ask game... The Future Is Still Silver and Black? (original train fiction from you two sounds really interesting!)

So last year, I went up north to visit Ray. Ray lives in Chicago, which just so happens to have the largest railway museum in the United States, the Illinois Railway Museum.

At the IRM, we saw the Nebraska Zephyr, which is a streamlined stainless steel articulated trainset. Each of the cars in this train are named after Greek/Roman goddesses. Venus, Vesta, Minerva, Ceres, and Juno. It's really quite striking. And the train is pulled by an EMD E5 (the only surviving E5 in fact) named Silver Pilot.

The next day we went to the Museum of Science and Industry. There we saw the Pioneer Zephyr, the first of the Burlington Zephyrs.

So after we get out of the MSI, we're sitting in the Metra station, waiting for the train, and we're doing Independent Research on our phones. Because the concept of the Nebraska Zephyr is great, right? Five beautiful cars all named after goddesses. And that is when we learn that Silver Pilot did not originally belong to this train.

"Those aren't even his bitches," Ray said to me.

So over the next few months, we did more Independent Research. And every new piece of information we found about Silver Pilot just made his story even better. The whole thing is fuckin' wild and we had to DIG to find almost all of it. It's insane because the engine has this amazing story - a story that Ray often points out would sound contrived if it wasn't true - and apparently no one has cared until a pair of fucking cunt dorks went to the train museum.

Comparatively, the Pioneer Zephyr was easy to find more about. Its history is extremely well-documented and lots of people in the past have been fucking cunt dorks about that train. The thing about the Pioneer Zephyr though is that it was made in the early 30's, right? And Burlington promoted this train in a way almost... vaudevillian. It broke the land speed rail record on its way to its debut at the 1934 World's Fair (outdoing its competitor from the Union Pacific, M-10000 only a couple months after it broke the record), it went on an exhibition tour, there were commemorative letter covers given for its service milestones, there was a ride-on children's toy made of it, it starred in a movie!

So me and Ray were now thoroughly enthralled by these two separate but related trains and how different their service lives were - and continue to be - when we get an idea.

We'd considered the idea of trains writing letters to each other before, but it's a little human for them in general, particularly for working engines who are busy. Although I was quite pleased when I was able to report to Ray that there was indeed an episode of TTTE where Thomas sends Percy a postcard.

But these guys are both preserved and while Pilot still works, the IRM is only really open on weekends. They got time. They have people with hands who can read and write who also have time.

DJ: Oh, what if they send each other letters? Ain't like they've got anything else going on. Ray: c2c. I was thinking about them being pen pals. Especially since they live so close, the letters don't take long to arrive. They can be short and sweet. DJ: Gives them something to look forward to. Ray: You can send some a few times a year and not be overwhelming with the information.

Which was all well and good, but then I found something practically serendipitous. A sign that this was the way to go.

So remember how Pioneer had all these publicity stunts and events done for it? On its tenth anniversary, they made a six foot birthday cake and rigged up an eight-foot-long knife such that the train could pull forward, break a ribbon, and cut its own birthday cake.

Most of this cake was given to veteran and child hospital patients, but individual pieces were also sent off to each of Pioneer's "brothers" and a hundred-ish other fellow streamliners across the country.

With a letter.

DJ: Raymond. There's a train letter IN the Pioneer Zephyr book. FROM the Pioneer Zephyr. About his birthday party. Although he does say in it that he only has brothers. Ray: OH MY GOD. How did we know??? Are we just that fucking good???? Do we just know and perceive the truth THAT well. DJ: It's too fucking cute. Ray: The fact that he is a he and also says he has brothers is revolutionary. That almost strains the limits of credulity, knowing how Train Guys are about calling engines "she". But I know you would not lie to me about this. Can you scan it?????

The fucking train actually, canonically, wrote a letter.

So yeah, the trains are pen pals. And they write to each other about their past and but moreso about their present. Because as it happens, their history post-preservation is interesting too (as I'm sure you can relate) and there's far less said about it already.

The first batch of letters are done, we're just getting some other materials together before we can publish.

EDIT: people are reblogging this again so just editing to add that you can read the train letters here.

[prompts-weight-in-gold]

     text prompts stolen from my groupchats p. 4

[text] i just came here to fix my insecurities not to like improve myself as a person [text] you’re gonna get a good grade in being a special little white girl [text] *snaps my bones to make me sharper* that beast is goin down  [text] it could also be that I’m hallucinating but isn’t that just a symptom of womanhood anyway [text] i have no connection to reality and my untethered existence to anything but the void will either be a curse or a blessing and i dont know if i have any sway over which it decides to be [text] wig? on what cause? [text] im making a discord channel no one can post in just to pretend i can ever get some peace and quiet around here [text] im making all pokemon latino now. dúskul [text] noooooo baby dont restrict my use of internet shorthand ur so sexy aha [text] all men are clowns one way or another might as well find one who knows it [text] move over asimov's laws 'no significant crimes' is here to fuckin party [text] es siempre la hora de morbo [text] the face distracts while the hands attack [text] wow you would talk about history when you know colonialism took history away from me? [text] im not getting into heaven but i will be ready to court the devil with my sultry words [text] if you can’t find an emo in the wild, but have some patience, you can always just kill a smiley kid’s parents then wait [text] blonde bitpulls are still poc (pets of color) theyre just light skin [text] you’re handsome but also look like someone who forgets their wallet a lot [text] these devilish indulgences are the delights of the bourgeoisie while my proletarian citizens starve [text] at least ur keeping him off the streets [text] if i go too long without moisturizing i can physically feel my skin file a complaint. like before i even get dry i get the sensation of my cells pulling out lil pens to fill out a form [text] he has whiskers on his face i always thought naruto was a catboy [text] i couldn’t even give up cussing for ramadan so... [text] switching apps is the new walking through a doorway [text] god is real and he likes to make me suffer in new and mundane ways [text] on this day chaos has lost a finger of its chokehold grip on humanity’s pulse [text] a divorce is just a permanent block [text] if you say that to me again ill pull out your tattoo [text] if people have to see me they have to really see me [text] am I not coherent enough for you???? do you know who I am???? [text] the rules are mere crumbs and we are the cosmic brooms sweeping them under the rug of possibility [text] first point? amazing, flawless, wonderful. second point? stop appropriating gothness

[bettathanyou]

I would love to hear more about your story idea where Cedric gets a snake familiar! How he got her, their relationship, her personality, etc. You mentioned some things, and I've been thinking about it a lot tbh.

Cedric, The Sorcerer; Rose, The Snake

Above GIF is what Rose looks like! She is a ball python!

Cedric was in his tower, doing royal sorcerer things, as he does

He hears from his balcony/window Sofia arguing with the guards and she sounded distressed

He sees her holding,,, something

Or rather, something is wrapped around her shoulders-

"OMG IS THAT A BLOODY FUCKIN SNAKE???" - Cedric, probably

He goes to investigate

Sofia says that Rose Got hurt because some kids were fucking with it for fun (because it's common that snakes are mistreated/killed just for being a snake)

He notices Rose has some skin missing and in general looks beat up

Rose is pretty much exactly like her name implies: sweet, beautiful, and full of love and affection

She's very encouraging of Cedric, very eager to help him fetch ingredients, and basically becomes his best friend! She's a great listener, sorta motherly in a sense, and also suffers from anxiety and depression like Cedric does (because of her trauma/isolation because people judge her for being a snake)

She also offers free pest control in Cedric's tower and pretty much the whole castle! Not one mouse or rat has been seen since Rose moved in....

Rose LOVES being on Cedric's shoulders and wrapping around his arm. She's a snake after all, and she needs warmth!

Cedric has since made sure his workshop gets PLENTY of sunlight since Rose was put under his care. The sunshine even helps Cedric feel good after getting used to it!

Cedric at first was hesitant to get close to rose. After wormys betrayal, he didn't think he could trust another familiar to get so close to him. If his lifelong former best friend could betray him, why not a snake? A figure that represents deceit and evil?

But rose proves Cedric wrong

She's eternally grateful for Cedric taking such good care of her. And she at first was terrified of him. Sofia had to sit with her while Cedric patched her up, she didn't want to be alone with him just yet :(( but she trusted Sofia, and if Sofia trusted Cedric, then rose would give him a chance

They both are distant to each other at first, but as rose recovers, she gets bored of just. Doing nothing. And she doesn't want to explore the castle and scare anyone, lest she get hurt again :((

So she watches Cedric work. Becomes familiar with a few things. And suddenly when Cedric needs an ingredient, rose is slithering to get it for him!

At first Cedric insisted she rest, but rose convinced him to let her help, "to return the kindness you gave me, Mr. Cedric"

Oh yeah Rose calls him "Mr. Cedric" for the few first days (despite Cedric's insistence she doesn't have to) because Sofia calls him that xD Rose is super polite!

Once Rose is rested up finally, she expressed fear of going back into the wild. Living in the castle was... Nice. And safe. And warm. And most importantly, she had friends 🥺

So Cedric brought up her becoming his familiar

At first, rose couldn't believe it! And she was hesitant because she wasn't sure how others would react to her being his familiar. She didn't want to cause Cedric any trouble by being associated with her :((

Cedric then replies "My dear, the last familiar I had was much more trouble than he was worth- but you? You're the friend and familiar I think I've always needed. If you want to humor me, that is?"

And that's history! Everyone needed some adjustments to Rose- after all, a fear of snakes is a common phobia. But the royal family learns to love her, and Rose learns to trust other humans as they show her love and compassion. And seeing Sofia hold her and Rose be so sweet makes the twins start to hold her too! Even amber comes around! James thought Rose was cool from day one though xD

Rose is also 5.5 feet long!

[xgoldenlatiasx]

ohhh I am Brainstorming

ok ok so infodump ahead: Arcelia is the daughter of Archie (aaaand possibly Maxie? I haven’t figured out if I want hardenshipping to be divorced or if they get together after ORAS) and grew up a member of Team Aqua. For a while there she had full confidence in her father’s plan, but then Something happens (haven’t figured out what yet) and realizes oh wait this idea is shit actually what the fuck dad. unsure of what to really do to stop her dad yet, she runs away and ends up in Littleroot. there she stumbles into Professor Birch getting chased by a wild poochyena, saves him, etc. etc. etc.

not really sure what to do with this lost child who literally just came out of the bushes and saved him one day, Birch takes her in and lets her be an assistant like Brendan is. buuut she’s not super good at it. she gets kind of fed up and restless, especially when her dad is still out there planning to FLOOD THE FUCKIN WORLD, so as a way to try and help her Birch gives her Pebble the Mudkip and sends her out on a journey. thus begins her gym challenge and her mission to save her father from himself basically.

post-ORAS Archie has to serve time and stuff so Arcelia… doesn’t really know where to go from here. and she doesn’t wanna stay in Hoenn honestly cause she’s still kinda recovering from saving the world and fighting her own dad. SO Birch tries to help and sends her to Naranja Academy in Paldea, where hopefully she can find some semblance of a normal life and learn to just be a regular kid. it’s all well meaning but it doesn’t exactly work out bc Arcelia ends up being all by herself. again.

aaaand of course that’s where she meets a certain future-ground-type-elite-4-member! Arcelia is 16 at this point but she has to start off at freshman cause of yknow, never going to school before, and Rika is 17 and a junior. Arcelia struggles because 1. this is an extremely drastic change to literally anything she’s ever had in her life before 2. sure she’s only like a year older than the rest of the kids in her grade but she’s still significantly more mentally mature than a majority of them and thus has trouble connecting with them. honestly, even if she was allowed to start off as a sophomore, that prolly wouldn’t change cause kid has literally seen shit beyond any other high schooler’s comprehension.

Rika, not knowing anything about the whole saving the world thing but can easily see Arcelia’s struggling, approaches her and offers to help her with fitting in, keeping her grades up, and stuff like that. and the rest is history! the two become extremely close, but I don’t think Arcelia would fully open up about being the hero of the Hoenn crisis just yet- she’ll vaguely mention her strained relationship with her dad and make it come off as something much more simple than “my dad was an evil team leader who tried to drown the world”, but during their school years Rika never totally understands the full weight of it.

I think once Rika graduates they have a dramatic falling out of some kind. haven’t exactly figured out the details of it yet but during this falling out Arcelia has to go back to Hoenn- probably somethin to do with her dad or with Kyogre or whatever- whatever it is she can’t tell Rika about it, which only frustrates Rika even more and creates a further rift between them. eventually Arcelia just leaves with hardly a goodbye and neither of them really get any closure.

-of course until Arcelia comes back to Paldea several years later :]

[borom1r]

WEIRD fuckin ask but we talked about it once and it would not exit the brain. Flavours of neurodivergence within the fellowship: discuss?

OGH. no, good ask. good ask I love it. AUTISM FLAVORED bc that is my own experience :3

Aragorn— autism of the “I Am 100% A Changeling, I Have No Idea How To Relate To Humanity” variety. like yea being partly raised by elves didn’t help but he absolutely wandered around mimicking people to learn how to Behave Like A Person. autism trait absorption for the win!! comes to Minas Tirith and gets a painful crash course in masking, but never quite figured out how to Not stare at someone like a feral cat when he wants something from them (despite the Stare, HATES eye contact)

Boromir— OPPOSITE AUTISM. very direct. EXTREMELY rigid routines. military history special interest (literally just undiagnosed dad autism). probably has food sensitivities but he’s spent so long as a soldier he can just eat anything now. he hates it and he won’t eat a big portion of non-safe foods, but at least he can swallow them. he IS absolutely 100% undiagnosed and doesn’t think there’s anything wrong but if he doesn’t get to perfectly make his bed every morning he will be in a Noticeably Bad Mood for the rest of the day < does not understand that this isn’t normal

Gandalf— oh there’s definitely something going on there, but good luck with figuring THAT out

Legolas— AuDHD king. the autism/ADHD comorbidity is real and he barely bothers to mask. least of all in front of men?? he’s an elf prince and you expect him to act “normal” by human standards? I love how jacked up the Hobbit film timeline is bc Thranduil implying to Legolas “yeah go hang out in Rivendell with a ten year old” is SO funny. canon to me tho. there was a very significant chunk of time where Aragorn was just Mini Legolas. hell world for civilized Rivendell elves. unlike Aragorn, however, prefers very direct eye contact. WILL fully hit you with the 👁️👁️ almost unblinking for a whole conversation

Gimli— I’m gonna be real here. I think neurotypical but in the sense of like. literally nobody cares. dwarves are craftsmen, artisans, smiths, you think they’re going to risk squandering talent simply because somebody needs some accommodations? are you nuts???? like yea maybe somebody’s a Little Weird Sometimes but they can work the forge just fine or tool leather for straps/handle wraps, or draft designs, or stamp metal for decorations, like?? doesn’t particularly grasp the need for labels when you can just work with ppl to figure out what’s best for them + then everyone’s happy. fully has to stew on the fact that Men Don’t Do That, men are actually very rigid about what is socially acceptable and won’t provide accommodations Unless there is a label. wild.

Frodo— autism/depression hell combination. no meltdowns, only shutdowns. auditory processing disorder!! definitely also has poor temperature regulation (CONSTANTLY cold). hey did u know that’s a symptom of ASD? crazy. WILD. anyways. Sam knows he can barely handle the feeling of mittens/gloves so half the time when they’re hanging out is Sam just holding Frodo’s hands so they actually fucking warm up for a bit. not too rigid about Big routines, most of his are Little (always putting a specific amount of sugar in his tea, for example)

Sam— neurotypical but in the sense of my dad where he was just SO used to me being Autistically Strange that he was just like. “well, that’s Strider!” < blissfully unaware. fully just SO used to whatever’s going on w/ Frodo+Merry that it’s Normal to him. like wdym they’re different?? those are just his friends?? hello??

Merry— ADHDDDDDDDDD. and look ik Tolkien said pipeweed is just tobacco but that’s a lie and we all know it, right? right. self-medicating with pipeweed.

Pippin— neurotypical but Pippin-flavored