The red lion is temperamental and the most difficult to master. It’s faster and more agile than the others, but also more unstable. It’s pilot needs to be someone who relies more on instinct than skill alone.
i just realized i never posted anything about this oc but here is a…… strange oc named alessi… theyre not quite guy or girl and really are just some sort of Beautiful Entity that adjusts /certain parts/ according to their lovers preferences (they also only have one lover. who is human. one soul that reincarnates over and over and alessi just looks for them in every life and makes that person their own)
Hey it's fine if you want to see jughead as representation but the way he was coded before like the 1 single issue where he was ace was gay. Seeing as the comics started a long time ago, that meant jughead was gay. Now, they've decided to make him ace (and not gay (?)) This means that he was really not ace before that issue. He's fictional, not a real person. He was written, people 70 years ago had different plans w him than now. So him reading as nonstraight doesnt have anything to do w him
Ah, yes, how could I forget that a disinterest in sexual relationships have and always been considered ‘gay coding’, and not ‘straight people who don’t want to fuck’.
With all the insistence otherwise by various naysayers and REGs, you could have fooled me.
Except no. Jughead’s aceness was intentionallychosen because of his writing history, and wasn’t a choice made on impulse. Just because history didn’t have a vocabulary for us, that didn’t mean we didn’t exist, or that people didn’t notice that we did.
When they finally bring him home (once all the paperwork is approved, several months after Raymond found him abandoned at a crime scene), Jacob crawls over to Cheddar’s bowl and chokes on a dog biscuit. Kevin is frantically trying to explain the situation to a 911 dispatcher when his husband calmly announces he’s successfully performed the Heimlich maneuver. The moment of panic over, Jacob babbles loudly, grins, and places a slobbery hand on Raymond’s face.
When he enters 4th grade (at the private school Kevin had chosen for its exemplary curriculum, prime student-to-faculty ratio, and exquisite lunch program; and Raymond had chosen for its safe and secure environment), Jacob is sent to the principal’s office for punching Keith Pembroke in the face. Initially, his fathers are confused because he had always been excellent at responding to bullies – they had made sure to brief him on what he might hear, being the adopted son of two gay men. When they find out he had reacted to a slur Keith had used against another student, and when the administrators still insist on punishing Jacob for his actions, Raymond and Kevin gladly move their child to a nearby public school.
When he first gets his heart broken (on the day of his bar mitzvah, which Raymond and Kevin had dedicated a year planning for), Jacob locks himself in a closet and cries for over an hour. Raymond is offended their hard work went unappreciated, but Kevin ignores his complaints and instead knocks on the door and gently coaxes Jacob to let him in. After another 15 minutes of sobbing against his father’s shoulder, he croaks out a semi-coherent explanation involving Jenny Gildenhorn, Eddie Fung, and stupid love songs. Kevin cheers him up by making his favorite breakfast for dinner and recounting the greatest love stories in Greek mythology.
When he arrests a perp for the first time (after spending every summer at CSI camp, joining the junior police program, and finally completing his academy training), Jacob pays his fathers a visit in his newly acquired secondhand Mustang. Kevin is appalled he made such an impulsive purchase, especially after everything they had taught him about saving money. Raymond tries to hold back tears of pride as Jacob points out the dent that formed when he had thrown the guy against the car.
When he falls in love for realz (with his partner, Amy Santiago – and honestly, Raymond had seen this coming since eight-year-old Jacob started pulling her pigtails at CSI Camp), Jacob’s fear of commitment almost screws up their relationship. Kevin had always been the one to help him navigate his girl and boy issues, but this time, Raymond sits him down and tells him about how they first got Gertie. It’s a story Jacob has heard once or twice before, but it still pushes him to sell the crappy Mustang they had been fighting about and purchase a brand new, fuel-efficient, crash-tested (and interestingly) family-friendly car.
Raising Jacob isn’t easy, but hot damn, it sure is worth it.
okay but a couple years in the future, Lance goes missing
Keith watches the way the team breaks down, just like they had broken down without Shiro. Back then, he was a kid. Back then, he made everything worse - impulse and filter, or lack thereof - creating a rift between them all, rather than bringing them together when they needed it. It had been Lance that brought them together. His jokes lifted everyone, his shoulder open to cry on, his door unlocked for company.
But they didn’t have that now. Not with Shiro grasping at straws, too focused on how to find their missing member than he is to worry about the grief of the rest. Not with Hunk quietly baking and tinkering constantly, not allowing himself to stop his hands for a moment, lest it gives his brain time to think. Not with Pidge burying her nose so deep into her computer they’re lucky to see her once every few days.
So Keith becomes what he can. He makes sure Shiro sleeps, makes sure Hunk has an ear to talk to, makes sure Pidge eats. He watches over them, mother-henning them like he knew Lance would. But he’s not Lance. He watches Hunk lose weight and Shiro isolate himself and the dark circles under Pidge’s eyes grow and grow.
It doesn’t help that he has no one to lean on. No familiar heat to curl up against in his bed. No blue eyes that see everything, even when Keith tries so hard to make sure they’re hidden. No joyous laughter and stories of a happy family with children who don’t always make the smartest decisions. It’s just Keith in his bed alone at night, crying as the familiar smell of ocean spray and sunshine slips further from his grasp. As he wakes each day, knowing he has others to care for before himself.
I like playing someone who wasn’t cautious, who was in the moment and made impulsive decisions, which is what attracted me to her in the first place. I think you’re attracted to things that are different from yourself in a character because it’s more interesting, and you get to play out a fantasy version of yourself.
At five years old, Remus Lupin was precocious. He didn’t believe in the monsters under his bed… even when the mean neighbour kids put them there. Every full moon, he would climb out of his bed, being as quiet as possible, just in case his mum or dad might hear his little feet padding across the cold wooden floorboards. His dad said that the most dangerous and deadly monsters came out on the full moon, that there were things worse than death. Remus refused to believe that anything could hurt him. His dad was the smartest man he could ever imagine, and knew every spell there was to know. His mom was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and nothing could ever hurt her or the smile she perpetually wore. And besides, there was just… something about the full moon. The way the light was almost as powerful as the sun, but completely different. Remus would just sit there on the bay window seat for as long as he wanted, peeking through the curtains and wishing he were on that moon, swimming in the light. He knew what magic was, but this was a whole other level of it. Something even wizards as adept as his father couldn’t tame.
A shadow crossed the street. Remus blinked, and there was nothing there, but he hopped off the window anyhow. Sure, he liked to think he didn’t believe in the monsters, but he was still only five, and his heart was skipping wildly in his chest at what he thought he might have seen. He had forgotten to shut the curtain all the way, and a glimmer of moonlight slanted across the floor, lighting on his bed. He shut his eyes as he clambered back under the covers, trying to ignore the way the window creaked against a slight breeze. He didn’t want to call out to his parents because he knew that there couldn’t possibly be anything there. He curled up into a ball, tears leaking out of his eyes until he finally drifted off into sleep.
He didn’t wake up pleasantly. The thing that actually woke him was probably the snout that was grunting and snuffling up to him from the end of his bed. But the first thing he was aware of was the rancid stench of rotting meat rolling off the creature in waves. Immediately, his heart kicked its pace up, and obviously the creature sensed it. It let out a growl. Remus whimpered. Where was his father with all his spells? His mother with her smile and warm arms that chased all the bad things away? The creature moved closer, and Remus made an impulsive move, rolling out from under it and onto the floor. “DADDY!” He screeched as loudly as his little voice would allow. “HE-” But he was cut off by a body six times larger than his own slamming into him and pinning him to the floor. Claws dug into his sides, puncturing his skin. He was now crying, and all he could make out was a horrendous maw yawning above him, the rotten meat breath wafting over him as tears streamed down his face. He heard footsteps running up the stairs and over the next few years he’d think about that face and be certain that the creature had been grinning as it ripped into him.
Another partially complete one because this fic has decided it wants to be really long. Here’s like 4k though.
Kent looked up from his cocktail
to see Jack looking at him with a frown on his face, various Falconers arrayed
behind him and looking on curiously. Oh
shit. He had been successfully avoiding Jack for months, and now he goes
and picks the same goddamn bar after the game. Is this the universe telling him
to stop drinking? Fuck you, universe.
“Jack,” he said evenly. There is
an absolutely zero percent chance that Jack will believe him that this is just
a coincidence, especially because none of his teammates are here. Sue him for
wanting to have a quiet night. Next time he’d just go with them to the shitty
“Why are you here?” Jack said
forbiddingly. “I thought I made myself clear—“
“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Zimms, you
don’t want to see me.” He pushed back from the bar, mouth twisting bitterly,
and abandoned his drink. “I’m not stalking you, promise.” He made a
split-second, impulsive decision. “I’m here to see him.” He reached out and
pulls in the nearest Falconer, not even looking at his face.
“You’re here to see…Tater?” Jack