— let them be ghosts.

[rrscoes-blog]

hazelbyrne:

hazel smiled at the sight of his figure entering the kitchen. his hair, as per usual, was sticking up ever so slightly in the back behind his right ear. she fondly reached back with a slightly damp hand and patted it down, listening to him relay the details of his day to her. she stepped back as he boosted himself onto the counter, shooting him a look as he lightly kicked her. “i know,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, although she didn’t, really. “thanks. ‘s funny, it was pretty busy yesterday, but i guess it’s better when it’s slow.” hazel picked up the dough from the counter and began to work at it before letting go and setting a charm to do the kneading on its own. “what’re you workin’ for this time, hm?” she asked, tilting her head and looking up at him with a curious glint in her eye. “rent, parts, or something else?” she knew it was most likely on the former, considering the timing of his work, and that he didn’t really spend money on anything but those two things. at the mention of needing to go into the sop earlier in the morning, hazel searched her mind for perhaps a previous mention that she might’ve stored away. “oh! yes, right.  he’s mentioned that to me a few times.” a few times was an understatement, but if her father hadn’t told roscoe, and he hadn’t told her again– well, she doubted she would have remembered. the pair were hardly known for their impeccable powers of memory. she eyed the dough and decided it was ready to bake, taking it in hand and placing it on the pan. “did you know– there’s a meteor shower tomorrow. despite the city lights, it’s so strong, it should be…” hazel trailed off, distracted by setting the temperature for the bread. “that should be good right? should be visible decently with binoculars, i’m just hoping all the christmas lights don’t…” she petered off again. “oh! the soup should be done.”

still grinning, roscoe shook his head at hazel’s query. “you’ll find out,” he cryptically remarked, foot tapping lightly against her leg once more. watching her flit around the kitchen was a familiar and comforting sight, the kind of thing that reminded him of why living with hazel was the best. he’d be a mess without her. his fond smile grew as her seemingly aimless musings continued. not many people would consider hazel a chatterbox — it’s more than likely that nobody would, really. yet she always talked to roscoe, both about important things and nothing at all. ( even back in their first year at hogwarts when she hardly ever spoke, she’d say more to him than to anybody else. ) despite his typical spacey disposition, roscoe could always be counted on to absorb her every word. he loved her mind, loved to hear her thoughts no matter how random or trivial. there was no stopping the twinge of exhilaration he felt as she mentioned the impending meteor shower. though roscoe himself wasn’t very interested in stars or space — he preferred the more tangible machinations of screws and gears — he owned a calendar that detailed all upcoming celestial events, so he that he could delve just that slightest bit further into one of hazel’s most beloved interests. the meteor shower she was extolling whilst checking on their meal was supposedly quite the show; probably not something that could be properly viewed with just binoculars alone, as hazel didn’t sound entirely convinced herself. roscoe would fix that, though. hopefully. feet idly swinging back and forth now, he blinked at hazel as she peered into the boiling pot of soup. “careful,” he warned gently, fingers steepling in his lap. “that looks like a lot of soup. are we having someone over or did you just factor in that i’m gonna be hungry again in about three hours?”

[rrscoes-blog]

eliizaisms:

looking down at her blooded up hand, she let out a small sigh before taking a seat on a discard barstool. watching as roscoe hopped in through the window, she narrowed her eyes slightly. “you could’ve just used the door like a normal human being, you know.” eliza’s honestly much too exhausted to do much or put forth effort to scold roscoe. instead, she listens to the words flowing out of his mouth and a small smile graces her features. “i’ll have you know that if i was indeed involved in a pub brawl, i’d take no prisoners.” she simply shrugged, propping her head up on her good hand. “so, you keep avoiding my question: what are you doing out so late? let me take a wild guess,” the girl sat up slightly, tilting her head playfully. “you’re looking for the final piece for some new invention. or you’re following my sister around and you’re both up to no good. or you’re on your way to see hazel. which, now that i think of it, all three of you should be asleep by now.”

rather than answering her question directly, roscoe merely waves around his wrinkled paper bag from ye old curiosity shop. “found the piece i was looking for, actually,” he explained, tilting his head to get a better look at eliza’s injury. she was still hiding it beneath that grimy towel, though. “i haven’t seen lana in a couple days, actually; i think she’s really busy at the apothecary.” his lips twisted into a frown as several minute drops of blood hit the ground with an audible thwip thwip thwip. “hazel’s probably asleep,” he muttered, as if the information was a consolation prize of sorts. “she was when i left, but i had to move her off of me and sometimes that wakes her up.” brow furrowing, he finally reached toward her hand, but did not take it. his eyes flickered to eliza’s, dark brown meeting hazy emerald. “what happened?” he inquired, pointing to her injured hand. “it looks bad. i could bandage it for you until you can see a healer.” it was more than likely that roscoe would never be confident enough in his magical abilities to try healing any living thing, let alone a close friend whom he didn’t want to be responsible for horribly disfiguring or otherwise tormenting.

[rrscoes-blog]

hazelbyrne:

the aroma of chicken noodle soup wafted through the slightly cluttered rooms of the flat as hazel set a charm on the wooden spoon to stir the broth on its own. pleased with the progress she had made, she turned to the counter, beginning to mix together ingredients for fresh bread, tossing flour and baking powder in carefully. hazel almost always made meals for the household, but she didn’t mind in the least; she enjoyed trying out different recipes for roscoe to try, even if he did like most things, and having extras to take to her father’s in the morning, and sometimes even take some by to forrest. she knew her roommate should be home any minute now; even if he was busy, he could consistently be counted on to come eat supper, or at least send notice of his whereabouts. her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a loud crack in the living room, surely enough; she waited until she heard his footsteps enter the kitchen before addressing roscoe. “chicken noodle soup and some bread. figured it’d be nice to warm up,” she stated by way of greeting, smiling at the sight of her closest friend. “i’ve been home for a bit… almost walked, but it’s quite cold out there,” hazel sighed, eyes flickering to the window rimmed with snow and ice. she picked up her wand and wordlessly waved them shut. she turned her attention back to roscoe, expression brightening. “how’re you, busy day?”

dusk always befell knockturn alley at an unusually early hour, yet it still managed to arrive with an astonishing quickness during the frigid winter months. roscoe never thought much of it unless he picked up a shift at potage’s cauldron shop, where he’d typically work from opening until sunset. though largely indifferent to the job itself, he was always grateful toward george for hiring him to tackle impromptu shifts, especially on days where additional staff wasn’t necessary but roscoe really needed those extra galleons to buy new tools or cover his portion of the rent. ( days like today, for example. ) the gold coins seemed to jingle gaily in his pocket as he strode into the kitchen, striking up a blatant contrast from the din that signalled his arrival via apparition. “mhm.” another noise, this one less tinny and quieter still. he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his lips upon seeing hazel in the kitchen, her slight figure bent over a messy mixing bowl. he wandered over to her without hesitation, peering over her shoulder at what could only be the beginnings of their bread. “eh. not too many people looking to buy cauldrons for christmas,” roscoe shrugged, moving to lift himself onto the counter. he lightly kicked out a foot, sneaker tapping gently against hazel’s leg. “you’ve got flour on your face,” chuckling, he reached over and brushed it off with his thumb before rubbing both hands on the front of his jeans. “and george wants you to go over to the shop tomorrow morning. i think there’s a new shipment of cauldrons coming in or something.” he didn’t explain that he wasn’t really listening when her father relayed the message; he didn’t have to. they were both space cadets, he and hazel, only nearly paying attention to everyone but each other and ( sometimes ) their chosen interests. 

[rrscoes-blog]

cooperjpg:

“forgive me,” cooper chuckled quietly as he didn’t want to startle the poor animal. “i didn’t look between his legs, so no, he could be a she – but his aura feels masculine,” he shrugged his shoulders up and down. he took the blanket without hesitation and very carefully, wrapped the feline up. “i don’t think he’s hurt, though. i think he’s just a little frightened – which, i can imagine would be normal. if someone picked me up out of the cold snow and carried me around, i’d probably be pretty spooked as well,” ever so gently, cooper placed the animal on roscoe’s couch. “it’s okay, fella – or femme. whatever. you’ll be fine,” he glanced over at roscoe. “do you have anything he can eat?”

roscoe’s brows lifted at cooper’s question, eyes flickering toward the cluttered little kitchen. he knew very little ( read: absolutely nothing ) about kneazle-cats, but he very much doubted that they enjoyed leftovers from the leaky cauldron or morsels of hazel’s latest culinary masterpiece. still browsing the kitchen, roscoe gestured toward the surprisingly deep and sizable sink. “don’t you think we should give him — or her — a good scrub first?” he peered at the shivering creature again, this time with a frown. “we don’t know where he — or she — has been.” it was a blunt observation, but not incorrect or disdainful. the scrawny, shivering kneazle-cat certainly looked a little sickly. in any case, a good rinse to get all the dirt and knots out of its fur certainly could not harm him or her.

[rrscoes-blog]

cordeliapng:

“what does it do, exactly?” the girl inspected the strange contraption, trying to figure out what sat in the boy’s grasp. it looked like something she had never seen. “an extension charm? i’ve got a friend who put an extension charm on their hallway. they keep a zoo’s worth of creatures in it. i’ve never been great with charms.” she simply smiled at the boy, knowing that whatever invention he intended on creating, it would be amazing. he had a fairly expansive imagination. if you placed some simple scrap metal in front of the boy, he could turn it into the most useful device that you never knew you needed. it amazed cordelia. “is this the cause of those deafening noises that have been keeping fitz and i up all night?”

he laughed before answering her question, shaking his head as his grip on the object slackened slightly. “no. this is a syringe.” he pointed to the long, metal tube, “this part gets filled with some kind of liquid — usually medicine but i guess it’d be venom in your case. you can use it to inject substances into other things, or extract substances from other things.” though used to it, roscoe often felt silly and strange explaining the idiosyncrasies of everyday muggle objects. he forgot that many of his peers had never seen telephones or airplanes or rubber ducks before. “should work fine,” roscoe continued, blatantly emphasizing just one of the three important words, “but i don’t know for sure and if anybody’s going to be attacked by sentient plant stabbers, i’d like it to be me.” grinning, he shoved the incomplete syringe back into his bag and closed it thusly, sauntering alongside delia as they slowly exited the cavernous room. “why do you need that plant’s venom?” he inquired, idly recalling that he still didn’t know where they were. it didn’t really surprise him. knockturn alley was but a small stretch of wizarding london, but it was cramped and crowded, unfurling and densely populated. despite being friendly with the female, roscoe didn’t know cordelia all that well and thus, wasn’t sure of her favorite local haunts.

[rrscoes-blog]

cooperjpg:

once he was sure that his presence was welcomed, cooper sauntered over to the couch and sat down slowly, careful not to startle the half-kneazle. “didn’t mean to muck up your creation, there. sorry about that. i just figured the door was sort of open, and this little bugger is so cold…” he trailed off. “i believe he’s half-kneazle. he’s a bit skittish, doesn’t particularly like being held, but understands that it is most definitely warmer in my arms… i just don’t know what to do with him. do i keep him? can you keep him?” the creature let out a low growl and cooper loosened his grip on the furry feline. 

roscoe merely grunted at the apology, unruffled as he dropped everything onto his desk. arms folded, he sauntered slowly toward the animal for fear of spooking him. “is he hurt or anything?” roscoe inquired, watching the half-kneazle warily peruse his new surroundings. there was a thick, clean blanket slung across the couch, and roscoe wordlessly pointed it out to cooper with a tilt of his chin. “is he definitely even a he?” chuckling, roscoe finally stepped close enough to touch the animal, though he didn’t try. the poor shivering thing still looked jumpy and pitiful, his skinny legs quivering and wide eyes flitting frantically around the cluttered but cozy living room.

[rrscoes-blog]

eliizaisms:

eliza heard the familiar voice from behind her and while normally she would’ve completely lit up at roscoe’s presence, tonight wasn’t particularly a night that she was fond of anyone. letting a frustrated sigh leave her crimson-painted lips, the redhead popped up from behind the bar, a bit of blood trickling down her arm as she tightened the rag against her hand. “nobody’s here. you’re not even supposed to be in here, ros. we’re closed,” she pointed to the small sign in the corner of the window that she’d flipped over earlier, her green eyes narrowing as she glanced over at him. “what are you even doing here? you shouldn’t be out this late around here, it’s dangerous. how many times have i told you that?” it was a bit of a mild scolding though, nothing too serious since eliza truly didn’t have the energy right now to truly yell at him. in fact, her entire angry demeanor faltered almost immediately and she plopped down on the barstool, resting her head on the wooden bar, letting out a huff of annoyance. “how was your day?”

receiving a scolding from eliza was never enough to truly nettle roscoe, but the sharp, exasperated edges in her tone caused him to frown, brows furrowing as he spied the fresh crimson blood trickling from beneath the grimy towel in her grip. his entrance via the narrow open window was quick but clumsy, feet unceremoniously hitting the ancient concrete floor as his body unfurled. “better than yours,” he guessed, pointing to her injured hand, “i can’t believe you finally joined a pub brawl only to lose like a total chump. i’m so disappointed.” the teasing lilt of his voice is commonplace and accompanied by another playful, lopsided grin. it’s a familiar combination, used primarily when roscoe is charged with the task of cheering up a friend. eliza doesn’t seem sad or angry so much as she sounds irritated and looks exhausted, but it’s all he can think to do.

[rrscoes-blog]

cordeliapng:

her eyes wandered along the plant’s corpse, taking in every feature before gazing at the boy. “what are you working on?” curiosity had gotten the best of her, eyeing the leather satchel that sat at the male’s side. delia know roscoe was always working on something. it seemed that she could hear him whenever she felt like sleeping. “i was seeing if there’s an easier way to get the venom out of this plant. it’s driving me mad.” she stood up from her place at the table, running her fingers through her caramel locks. “would you mind a little company? i need some fresh air.”

roscoe’s head tilted as he stepped forward and carefully examined the plant. “sure,” he answered distractedly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the limp stems and damp soil. his knowledge of plants wasn’t very extensive ( hardly existent, really ) but blindly reaching for something called a venomous tentacula seemed foolish ( to put it mildly ). shoulders straightening, he turned with his typical lack of flourish and shuffled toward delia. “i might be working on something that could help,” he explained, pulling open his bag and blindly rooting through the crumpled parchment, unfinished books, and grimy stray parts. the object he finally produced was small, silver in color and composed mainly of circular pieces. “i picked it up last time i was at cobb and webb’s,” he held the item slightly higher so that the light caught on its metallic finish, “haven’t really done anything with it yet...it’s supposed to have a needle at the end.” that was indeed a key component to most syringes. “supposedly the last owner put an undetectable extension charm on it...” he loosened his hold on the object, shoulders lifting in a shrug, “but i haven’t tried it yet, so i’m not sure if it’s true. that old bat at the store likes to tell me things just so i’ll go away.” his quiet huff preceded a humorless laugh, undoubtedly inspired by the thought of the tempestuous old proprietor of cobbs and webb’s, who often expressed his dislike of bratty little finks loitering around his store.

[rrscoes-blog]

cordeliapng:

“i don’t know how you can wander into a room without knowing where you’re or where you’re going.” her dark hues wandered back to the male that occupied the large room with her. a smile played on her lips as he spoke. in honesty, she had never seen star wars. christian loved the films, so she had minimal knowledge of star wars related trivia. “honestly, i have yet to run into a monster that wants to eat me.” hearing a low grumble, her mind snapped back to the plant. her lack of focus had disrupted her herbivicus charm. the growing plant’s weight caused the table to creak and moan. flicking her wand, she smiled. all life within the plant seemed to fad, becoming dry and brittle as it died. “sorry. what are you doing in here, anyway?”

the wooden table’s creaking and groaning briefly diverted roscoe’s attention. he watched as the plant withered and died, the leaves disintegrating like parchment held over an open flame. “that was cool,” he commented, nodding at the pot of soil and wilted stems. in response to her question, he merely shrugged. “was on my way to cobb and webb’s,” roscoe explained, patting the body of his old leather satchel, “i need some parts for something i’m working on.” chin jutting outwards, he gestured toward the table and felled plant behind cordelia. “what are you working on?” he prodded innocently enough.

[rrscoes-blog]

cordeliapng:

“h-hello?” delia glanced behind her, letting her gaze drift down the long hallway behind her. there was no one there. a small sigh escaped past her lips, turning her attention back to the small potted plant before her. delia stared down at the venomous tentacula, holding out her wand. startled by another noise behind her, the girl jumped, sending a flash of green light towards the plant. the plant began to grow and swell, cracking the pot. she spun around in her seat, eyeing her company. “don’t sneak up on me like that! you’re going to give me a heart attack!” due to her upbringing, delia had always been a bundle of nerves. her attention shifted back to the plant. “what are you doing in here, anyway?”

roscoe’s proclivity for multitasking had proven itself useful before, namely during his hogwarts days, during which he was a notorious procrastinator. nowadays, its usefulness was on a steady decline. cue him, walking while tinkering with an unfinished invention and completely missing that somebody was addressing him until it was too late. startled by the sudden interruption of his silent stroll, roscoe couldn’t help but jump and shout as his little metal contraption hit the floor with a crash! he immediately knelt down to collect it, eyes flickering from the woman to their unfamiliar, nondescript surroundings. “i swear they build a whole new wing onto this place every week,” he grumbled, dusting dirt from his jeans as he unfolded from his crouch, “it’s like living on the death star, except everybody’s lightsabers are less cool looking and there’s way more than one room around here that’s got moving walls and a giant monster who wants to eat you.” brushing dust and grime off of his slightly dented invention, he placed it carefully inside his satchel while emphasizing his statement with wide eyes and a visible but swift nod.

[rrscoes-blog]

cooperjpg:

this was probably a bad idea. cooper had a big heart. like any other person, he melted at the thought of a cute creature. while the fur ball he was carrying wasn’t nearly as sweet as a kitten or an owl, he still felt bad. cooper had come across this half-cat, half-kneazle, and it was soaking wet from the snow. he’d balled him up in his cloak and headed to find a friend who might know what to do with him or how to help him. cooper had earned a few battle scars from trying to pick the thing up, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. as he reached the front door of his friend’s house, he poked his head in. “hello? hey, i – i have a little friend here. i could use some help.”

call it absentmindedness, recklessness or just plain asinine, but roscoe had developed a habit of leaving the already flimsy front door to his apartment unlocked and sometimes even ajar. still, he jumped as the front door flung open, tiny mechanical pieces flying off his desk with the thrashing of his limbs. disgruntled, he dropped to the floor with a sigh, sparing only a brief look at his guest — cooper, a familiar face; a friend. in his hands was a fuzzy little creature, blinking and shivering beneath the heavy fabric of cooper’s winter cloak. roscoe couldn’t help but be placated by the sight, heart melting as he collected his felled doohickeys and whirligigs. “what’ve you got there?” he queried, eyes flickering to the frazzled, waterlogged creature in cooper’s arms.

[threebyfour]

Visit Original Link

I don’t care what anyone says, this is pure holiday cheer. 

[rrscoes-blog]

eliizaisms:

it was nearing two in the morning and while eliza usually never stayed out that late, she’d decided to close for the night at the white wyvern. she couldn’t be home alone — she spent too much time the last week looking into things, the discovery of alexei’s lie was almost too much for her to deal with. she didn’t know what hurt her the most; the fact that alexei had lied to her or the fact that he had files upon files on not only herself but all of her friends and loved ones. she hadn’t told jason or annica or bard any of this but she’d ended up stuffing some of the files into her bag and taking them home with her, despite the fact that if alexei found out, she’d probably get killed. but eliza didn’t care, she had to get rid of them. after spending night after night hunched over the files, she’d thrown them into her fireplace on a whim, hoping that destroying any evidence on her friends would throw alexei and the ministry off their tracks. and yet, here eliza stood, paranoid, restless — the bags under her eyes were enough to let people know she’d seen better days. all her mind could think about was alexei, the cold moon festival, and the fact that he had tabs on her and her grandparents. trying to keep her mind off everything, the redhead had taken it upon herself to polish each and every glass the pub held by hand, hoping she’d end up going back home in the wee hours of the morning. letting out a shaky sigh, one of the glasses slipped from her hands, shattering into a few shards and cutting her palm open. “shit,” she mumbled, quickly grabbing the rag from the sink and wrapping it around her hand as she tried to pick up the broken glass with shaky hands not even remembering her wand was tucked in her back pocket.

it wasn’t uncommon for the tiny shops and restaurants of knockturn alley to stay open long after nightfall — a quirk that roscoe especially appreciated on evenings like this one, where all that his latest invention needed in order to be complete was the doodad on display in ye olde curiosity shop’s murky front window.  he paid no mind to the glowing buildings or the opaque silhouettes that flitted through the shadows, shuffling casually along the uneven stone path. it was a short walk to his apartment, a cluttered but cozy little place situated above one sketchy establishment or another. he was nearly there when the shrill, jarring crash! of broken glass caught his attention and he spied distinctive tendrils of fiery orange hair through the white wyvern’s open window. roscoe didn’t even think before loping towards the crumbling old building, head and shoulders unceremoniously shoved right through the narrow window opening. “you know,” he began, lips pulled into his usual lopsided grin, “that’s not the kind of break people usually come here for.” the teasing lilt in his voice is accompanied by familiarity and smugness. ( after all, it’s not often that roscoe catches eliza’s blunders — he’s got to appreciate these fleeting moments as they happen. )

[rrscoes-blog]

hello hello i should be on in like 2 or 3 hours & if not then i’ll be on tonight and i’ll do some replies and probably post a starter so you guys should lmk which starter of yours i should reply to and also message me to plot if we haven’t done that yet ok yes ily all talk to you soon!!!

[virtualnarcissism-blog]

Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

David Foster Wallace ~ Infinite Jest (via virtualnarcissism)

[dailytomholland]

[rrscoes-blog]

approximately Way Too Many words of Nonsense under the cut

hi hello everyone! i’m sam (she/her, 19, est timezone) and i’m super hyped to be here! i’m a sucker for ~unique~ hp rps and it just so happens that i had a half-baked oc in the archives that i thought would fit in really well here! i’m such trash for plots but you would probably never guess it seeing as i don’t have a wanted connections page oR bio page up on my blog but!!! i love plots!!! and i’m gonna tell y’all a little about roscoe right now so yes okay let’s do that!

i feel like his name makes him sound like he comes from a cool wizarding family but nah, he’s a muggleborn from like...idk somewhere out in the middle of nowhere in england probably

i’m not really sure about his family life yet oops but i don’t think he’s particularly close with his parents (if his parents are even around like i’m kinda feeling like they aren’t but i haven’t 100% decided for sure yet)

he’s 19 so he’s probably one of the littlest guys here

aaaand he went to hogwarts where he was sorted into gryffindor in like .000000001 seconds like the sorting hat was literally like “why are you wasting my time with this obvious gryffindor i have real work to do here professors”

he lives in knockturn alley now bc ~adventure~ i guess? also maybe as an act of rebellion bc he’s still a baby who thinks he needs to *kelly clarkson voice* break away from the “childishness” of his school days lol he’s so #Dramatic

i’m not even really kidding about him being dramatic tho liKE OKAY let’s talk about his personality for a second bc. he’s just. he’s a wreck my guys

upon first meeting him roscoe seems pretty much like a stereotypical gryffindor (energetic, arrogant, jocular, sarcastic, virtuous) and he is all those things but he’S ALSO SO INTENSE SOMETIMES like esp w his feelings of love & anger & similar emotions. his heart is not guarded at all and is on his sleeve 100% of the time. he just feels everything so much and so intensely and he doesn’t really try to hide it and just he’s controlled by his emotions for sure & also has really poor impulse control

as for his occupation, he’s an inventor! tbh i just think he’s always liked to take things apart and see how they work and try and make new, different things with the pieces or try to improve the original product which is pretty much what he does now except he also tries to integrate magic into his inventions now and i imagine it’s usually a huge disaster but that never deters him!!! he’s a stubborn & determined lil kitten

as for his apartment (idk i imagine he lives in an apartment on top of some sketchy store in knockturn alley sO), it’s always a diSASTER. not dirty so much as cluttered bc he just leaves shit everywhere and his place is always overflowing with half-finished inventions and tools and random pieces of muggle machinery 

he always has his wand tucked behind one ear and a screwdriver tucked behind the other & he’s probably always covered in grease or motor oil or mysterious magical substances

is probably a drummer in a shitty band that plays in the leaky cauldron on weekends or something lmAO 

probably also likes cats a lot

so i’m sure i’m forgetting things but is anybody honestly still reading anyway??? lmao anyway. that’s a little abt roscoe!!! i’m not sure if i’ll get to replies tonight bc idek what i’m even typing anymore rip but pls pls message me if you wanna plot! i’m pretty much down for anything & even if you don’t wanna plot you should message me anyway just so we can become best pals! i have an aim so if you’re like me and despise everything tumblr does, pls feel free to ask for it! also i promise you that i’m capable of writing properly okay i promISE but goodbye for now!!!