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saibugslegacy · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2 - A Proper Hogwarts Welcome | Percival

A Mourning Warning Masterlist A Mourning Warning Tag Read it on AO3, Read it on Wattpad

Percival felt a bit awkward as he, Idris, and Professor Fig half walked and half ran towards the Great Hall. Thankfully they didn't pass anyone. Everyone else was already in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. So much for the first impression Idris had been so worried about. They were going to burst into the Great Hall late, in the middle of the sorting, Percival covered in his blood. Fig opened the door just enough to peek inside.

"Oh good, we haven't missed the Sorting Ceremony," Fig sighed in relief as he pulled back. He turned to them only to stop and give them a considering look. "I'm not an expert, but this seems more appropriate."

Fig gave his wand a wave and before their eyes their clothes melted away, covered by white button downs, gray vests, black ties, and black hooded robes with a small Hogwarts logo patch on their chest.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Percival sighed and reached to adjust his sleeves only to see Idris glaring at him. “What?”

“I put a lot of time into that coat,” Idris huffed. “And my outfit.”

“I’ll miss the coat, Dris,” Percy said. “I’m just glad to not meet my classmates and teachers covered in my own blood. Plus you said you couldn’t fix the coat anyway.”

“I said I couldn’t get the blood out of it, and I might have been able to with a spell. Plus my outfit was fine.”

“I assure you, none of your clothes are gone,” Fig said. “I’ve simply sent them to where the rest of the students’ things are waiting to be sent to their dorms. Now, I need to study this locket as quick as I can but first I must contact the Ministry, they need to know about George and must be informed about Ragnarok. For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between-”

“Oh shit,” Idris realized.

“What now?” Percival groaned.

“All our stuff,” Idris looked close to hyperventilating again. “It was on the back of the carriage. We literally brought everything we had and, and everything Mom and Dad left us, all the stuff Annabelle made that we kept, my sketchbook-”

“Mom and Dad’s wedding rings,” Percival could feel the tears gathering in his own eyes. With everything that had happened to them just to get to Hogwarts, this was just too much. He wasn’t much up to this Sorting Ceremony anymore.

“I’m truly sorry,” Fig sighed. “I’ll talk to the faculty, see if we can arrange sending a few house elves to search for any of your things that may have survived.”

“Thanks Professor,” Percival muttered, to be polite more than anything else. Those rings were the only things recovered from his parents’ body. The dresses Idris spent hours designing with and for Annabelle. All their pictures of them. Fig had gotten them both made Wards of the Ministry as they didn’t have guardians anymore, meaning they couldn’t go back to Rosewood. They’d had to bring everything. Now it was probably all gone.

Fig peaked through the door again and Percival immediately pulled Idris into a hug. As he’d expected, Idris quickly wrapped their arms around Percival in return. Every time he tried to say something, anything, the words couldn’t through the tears clogging his throat. But what could he even say? That it would be okay? How could anything be okay? His heart had already been ripped out of his chest in April, and now it was like whatever piece he’d shared with Idris was gone too.

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Fig grumbled. He quickly hurried back over to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt children, but you must prepare yourselves to meet the Headmaster.”

A man stepped through the ajar door, dressed in a handsome green waistcoat with a gold chain linked to his black satin vest. He had a black beard and mustache, accenting his neatly styled black hair. Percival could feel his skin crawling already, he didn’t even need Idris’ muttered translation that Fig did not like the Headmaster. The Headmaster only gave them a single look —a look that made Percival even more grateful he wasn’t covered in blood—before glaring at Fig. Actually it wasn’t even a glare, more of a haughty sneer.

“Fig!” Black chided. “Nice of you to join us. The Sorting Ceremony is over!”

“There were…complications,” Fig tried to explain.

“Complications?!”

“It seems the goblin problem-”

“Enough!” Black scoffed. “Goblins. I’ve no time for rumors, Fig, and I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left.”

Black sighed and turned to the twins. Percival had to fight the urge to take a step back, maybe hide behind Idris to escape the Headmaster’s gaze.

“If you’re lucky we might be able to get you Sorted this evening,” Black huffed.

Black walked off without a word and Idris hurried after him, making Percival realize they were supposed to follow, despite Black not saying anything to indicate so.

Percival was lucky he didn’t run into a table. The moment he stepped into the Great Hall it wasn’t the tables covered in more food than should be possible that he noticed, the risen stage where the faculty and a three legged stool were waiting, the giant fireplaces, or the enchanting floating candles. It was the ceiling. Spread out above them was a perfect recreation of the very stars in their sky, from the stars to the color of the sky to the clouds. It wasn’t a skylight, it was as if they’d simply removed a piece and placed it above the room.

The twins followed the Headmaster toward the stage, where a red-haired woman with spectacles was holding a hat so ancient Percival was waiting for it to disintegrate in her fingers. Sorting, right. Percival braced himself, knowing he’d be called first if this was done alphabetically. “Percival” didn’t come before “Idris” but the name Percy had been born with did and that always seemed to be the one used.

“Professor Weasley, two more to be Sorted,” Black commanded.

“Welcome!” Professor Weasley greeted them. She already seemed much more cheery than the Headmaster. “You’re just in time. The Valley twins I presume?”

“Yes ma’am,” The twins replied in unison.

“Wonderful,” Weasley gave them a reassuring smile as she checked a list on the table next to her. “Idris, you are first. Have a seat.”

A smile flitted onto Percival’s face for a split second to match the one Idris flashed him before they ascended the stage and sat on the stool. Weasley placed the hat on Idris’ head and simply stood there and waited. Idris kept making faces like they were talking to the hat, but no word left either of their mouths. Minute after minute passed as more and more mutterings began to fill the Great Hall. Even the teachers at the faculty table behind Idris were glancing at each other in confusion. Percival couldn’t make out what anyone was saying but he swore he heard someone mention the words “hat stall”. It took six whole minutes before the hat spoke.

“Better be….GRYFFINDOR!”

The table directly to Percival’s right covered in children in red uniforms roared their approval. They began cheering like crazy and even though Percival wanted to chop his ears off he had to laugh a little as he also applauded his sibling. Oh yeah, Idris was definitely going to fit in there. Weasley waved her wand the same as Professor Fig had out in the entrance hall and Idris’ uniform transferred from a plain one to a red one, getting yet another cheer from the Gryffindor table. Idris was laughing as they gave Percival a rushed hug before finding somewhere to sit at their new table.

“Percival, your turn,” Professor Weasley said.

Percival sat down on the three headed stool and tried to sit as still as possible to put the hat on his head.

Ah, another older one.

Percival nearly jumped out of his skin. Well that explained Idris’ conversation. He’d known the hat talked but hadn’t realized it was inside his head.

Of course I’m in your head. This is where the things that matter are. I see you’ve studied profusely with your mentor, good, good. But you’ve come with preferences and preconceptions and theories. Expectations.

I’m looking forward to my classes, Percival replied. I’ve hardly learned anything about magic compared to what I’ve seen just today. I want to know everything there is to know.

Curious…yes, I see. You love an unanswered question but hate not knowing. I know exactly what to do with you.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Percival felt a rush of relief go through him as the other center table started clapping and cheering for him. He was sure the other houses had their merits, but none of them had ever felt quite right to him. Somehow he’d always had a feeling he’d belonged in Ravenclaw, from the day Fig told them about the Houses.

Percival got off the stool and Weasley waved her wand again, turning gray to a deep sapphire blue that was immediately calming to his mind. The grin on his face probably made him look like an idiot but he didn’t care. Everything was finally hitting him. He’d been excited for Hogwarts before but this was different. It wasn’t just something coming up on the horizon. He was here. He was a student. Better, he was a Ravenclaw.

As Percival found a seat at the end of the table, the girl next to him immediately leaned over to talk to him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” The girl said. “I’m Samantha Dale, I’m a fifth year too. It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Percival replied.

The conversation was cut short by Professor Black stepping up to the front of the stage.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Black said. “Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch in last spring’s final, this year’s Quidditch season has been canceled.”

Immediately Black was bombarded by boos and protests. Percival himself couldn’t care less. Fig had told them about Quidditch and Percival had no interest in it. Less, actually. But he knew Idris had been looking forward to at least watching a game, maybe even trying out for their house team, so he felt a little bad for them he supposed.

“Enough!” Black commanded. “It’s not as though I’ve banned flying altogether. But don’t tempt me. You are here to focus on your academic futures. I’m sure you all have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow.”

He made a motion with his hands but clearly no one understood what on Earth he was supposed to be saying because the whole hall just stared at him waiting for him to clarify. Eventually he repeated himself much more forcefully and all but shooed them away, leading the students to rush from the hall.

“You two!” Black pointed to Percival and then Idris. He gestured for them to approach and they did so hesitantly. “Professor Weasley, would you be so kind as to show our new students to their common rooms.”

“I shall see to it, sir,” Weasley agreed.

She waited for Black to walk away before she started talking to the twins with a warm smile.

“You two made quite the entrance,” Weasley chuckled. “I’m Professor Weasley. Pleased to meet you.”

“Great to meet you too, professor,” Idris replied and shook her hand, Percival following their example.

“As Deputy Headmistress it is my distinct honor to show you to your common rooms,” Professor Weasley told them. “The Ravenclaw common room is right this way.”

Percival and Idris followed Professor Weasley as she led them through corridors and up staircases. Even with the sight of the castle from where they'd landed after Gringotts, Percival still couldn't believe how expansive Hogwarts was. Every time he thought there would be a dead end or exit of some kind there was another hall or another staircase. The star cases especially seemed endless.

Finally, after climbing a tower, they went up a much shorter flight of stairs that led to a door blocked but a fixture of a large bronze eagle. It seemed to double as a door knocker but it was much too large to be practical in that regard. Before they could fully approach however, Weasley stopped and turned to talk to them.

"It's quite uncommon for a student to begin as a fifth year," Weasley told them. Percival could almost physically feel Idris restraining themself from commenting on how often they've heard so. "Might be a bit of a challenge, but one I'm sure you're up for."

"We are, Professor," Percival said.

"Yeah, we aren't going to let a little thing like a challenge stop us," Idris agreed. "We're ready for this. We've been ready for this for months."

"I appreciate your confidence," Weasley chuckled. "Now, Idris, if you will retreat down the stairs for a moment, I'm afraid entry into the common rooms is a closely kept secret."

Idris nodded and nudged Percival with their shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," Idris promised. "Don't get eaten by a dragon."

Percival barked out a laugh from surprise, immediately covering his mouth until he collected himself. "I'll try my best."

Idris pulled them into one last hug before heading on down the stairs. Being separated from Idris and knowing it would be further was a strange feeling. It was just because of everything they'd been through together just that day. Not to mention they had been attached at the hip since April. Now they were wandering away and Percival was somehow both relieved and anxious as Idris disappeared.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room," Weasley explained, pulling Percival from his thoughts. "You must solve a riddle to enter."

"A riddle?" Percival bit back a smile.

"I'm glad it excites you," Weasley said "This sort of thing always confuses me."

Percival stepped up to the door and locked up at the knocker. He expected the beak to open like the sorting hat with its almost-mouth. Instead the voice of the eagle simply rang out into the stairwell.

Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?

Now how was he supposed to know that? He doubted the eagle would engage in a round of context questions. How long would a poltergeist have lived? That was not something he studied with Fig much.

Wait.

"Neither," Percival realized. "Neither a ghost nor poltergeist has ever lived. They aren't truly people anymore. A nonbeing can never have been."

The eagle lowered its head and folded its wings, letting the door swing inwards. Percival just caught a glimpse of white stone floors, vaulted blue ceilings, and a large stone statue of another eagle before Professor Weasley spoke again.

"Well done," Professor Weasley said. "Now, go on in and get some sleep. Professor Fig has already made us aware of your situation, so there will be nightclothes and a spare uniform sitting on your bed."

"Thank you Professor," Percival smiled at her.

He entered the common room, the door closing on its own behind him. The stairs split in front of him, following the curve of the tower. When he got to the top he had to pause in his tracks for a moment. It was perfect. He could feel that with just a glance but he decided to wait to really look around until the morning.

Now that he wasn't running on the adrenaline of a dragon attack, goblin attack, and the excitement from the Sorting, he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy. He was glad he wasn't forced to meet a bunch of people while exhausted, but he was now running into the problem that he had no idea where the dorms were.

"You look lost there, stranger," A thankfully familiar voice approached and Percy forced his eyes open.

"Samantha," Percival sighed in relief. "I'm glad to see a familiar face, even if we only just met."

"I was on my way to my dorm but I noticed you hadn't arrived yet," Samantha told him. "I remember how strange and disorienting it was my first year, I can't even imagine how strange it must be to start as a fifth-year. So I decided to wait for a bit to see if you made it alright. I'm happy you did."

"I am as well," Percival smiled a little, too tired for anything more, but he could already feel a small flower of connection blooming. "Thank you for that, I certainly appreciate the gesture. I don't suppose you could also show me the dorms?"

"I'd love to," Samantha gave him a warm smile and gestured for him to follow her.

She led him to the seam separating too large circular rooms. On either side of them was a staircase leading up and down, the entrance to each side flanked by two suits of bronze or silver armor. The silver was on Percival's left while the bronze were on his right.

"The girls and boys have separate dorms," Samantha explained. "The armor is there so they can't enter the other dorms. Your dorm, the boys, will be past the silver armor. Two flights down should be the fifth year dorms."

Wonderful, dorms separated by magic. He hadn't even thought of that, but the gendered dorms of course made sense. He should have asked Fig or even Weasley about it but it was too late now. He went to step toward the bronze armor only to pause. They'd used his name in the Sorting Ceremony, the one he picked, not the one he was born with. Maybe...

He took a deep breath and stepped toward the silver armor instead. He prepared himself for it to block him but the armor didn't even twitch. He let out a breathy, relieved laugh and glanced at Samantha over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Samantha," Percival said. "Again."

"You're welcome," Samantha replied. "Again."

When Percival managed to find his dorm there was only one other boy already in there, a boy who was already unpacking his things. He seemed like he was Percival's height, with neat black hair and skin that matched the wooden accents of the common room. When he finally looked up from his trunk and spotted Percival his eyes were a rich dark brown that reminded Percy of Idris' eyes.

The dorms themselves were everything Percival ever wanted from a dorm, and certainly much nicer than Rosewood's. The twins' room at Rosewood had two beds, one nightstand, two dressers, and that was it. But the Ravenclaw dorms had the same vaulted ceilings as the common room, all stained glass windows, wooden floors with matching accents along the walls. There were large wardrobes to Percy's left, allowing plenty of spade for storage so the bed areas wouldn't get crowded. There were of course four writing desks, this was Ravenclaw after all. The beds were bunk beds but they were built to be like their own tiny rooms, with wooden frames and curtains that could be drawn for privacy.

"Why, hello!" The boy said. "Oh, you're the new fifth year aren't you? I'm Amit. Pleasure to have you in Ravenclaw."

"Percival. I'm one of the new fifth years, yes," Percival nodded. "My twin sibling is in Gryffindor."

He glanced around and saw the bed across from Amit's didn't have any trunks ready to be unpacked, just a pair of nightclothes and an extra uniform folded neatly on the bed, just as Professor Weasley promised. He pushed the thoughts of his lost luggage aside before they could overtake him.

"Ah, I remember now," Amit nodded.

He opened a trunk which seemed to have been entirely dedicated to a telescope which he set about reconstructing. Percival found himself staring. He'd always wanted a telescope, ever since he was a toddler and his mother taught him his first constellation. But it had always slipped his grasp. Amit finished setting up his telescope but caught Percival staring.

"Sorry," Percival shook his head like he was trying to escape a telescope-induced trance. "I just have always wanted a telescope like that."

"Would you like to take a look?" Amit offered. "You'd be surprised how much of the sky you can see from the tower at night."

The correct answer was 'absolutely fuck yes' but Percival was able to restrain himself. He let Amit finish adjusting the telescope before he went over and peaked through the lens. Immediately it was like he forgot how to breathe.

"It's beautiful," Percival whispered. He pulled back from the telescope already grinning at Amit. "No wonder you'd set up a telescope in the dorm."

"There's another in the common room and of course plenty in the Astronomy Tower!"

"If you know the location of every telescope in this school I take it you like Astronomy?"

"Oh yes," Amit nodded enthusiastically. "So much to be learned from the stars. Also, there's something about the open air and night sky above the tower. It's invigorating."

"Finally, someone with sense," Percival sighed. "My sibling is clever in their own right, but they could never understand the appeal of the stars. I've read every book on them I could get my hands on, but honestly it wasn't many."

"You will adore Astronomy," Amit promised. "Professor Shah is incredibly knowledgeable. And don't worry, it's a required class for all fifth-years so it will definitely be on your schedule. You'll be enthralled with the Astronomy Tower. You should try to find a good quality telescope, they can show you things you never dreamed of."

"I think you and I will end up friends," Percival grinned. "It was nice to meet you, Amit."

"You as well!"

Percival changed as quickly as he could, unlacing the corset and feeling his spine immediately relax. It was a price but a very small one in his opinion. He stuffed it under his bed once he was done changing just in case and climbed into bed, his eyes falling closed before he even hit the pillow.

He didn't get to meet his other roommates yet as by the time he woke up the dorm was empty already. Percival donned his spare uniform and hurried back up to the common room. He wasn't really sure what to do next. He didn't have a schedule yet, Fig had told them days ago there would be someone to explain their schedule and classes something about arrangements for a system to catch them up to their peers. So he supposed he just had to wait? He wasn't supposed to meet them somewhere was he? Did he just stand there? Did he mingle? He didn't see Amit anywhere, but Samantha was off to the side moving around a plant pot.

"Good morning," Samantha greeted him, then gestured to the plant. "I want him to be in the perfect place. A place he'll be happy with. But I can't seem to find it. Great golden Gobstones, I want him to thrive here."

"Golden Gobstones?" Percival cocked his head as he considered the phrase.

"My own little expression," Samantha giggled. "I brought this dittany seedling from home and I so want him to feel cosy. Dittany is amazing, isn't it? So much healing power in such a little plant."

Percival tried to rack his brain for anything he could remember about dittany. He didn't exactly have the best track record with Herbology so far.

"Dittany..." Percival hummed. "That's used in Wiggenweld potions, isn't it?"

"It is!" Samantha confirmed. "Looks like someone's been studying up on their Potion-making."

"Quite a bit, yes," Percival said. "We studied some with Professor Fig before the term started to help us catch up. I did quite well with Potions but not so much with Herbology."

"I've got a bit of a thing for plante, as you can see," Samantha chuckled. "What was it like getting to learn directly from Fig? He's always been an enigma to me. Teaches about theory yet seems to know a lot about practical magic."

"He knows a little about a lot of things," Percival answered. "He's quite knowledgeable which was very helpful."

"I hope he taught you enough," Samantha said. "You've lots to catch up on I'm sure."

"I'm curious, is it common practice for students to grow their own ingredients?" Percival wondered. If so, he was already grieving his potions grade.

"Oh yes!" Samantha nodded. "In fact, our herbology teacher, Professor Garlick, encourages it. And I don't think Professor Sharp—our potions master—cares where you get your ingredients as long as your brews are all perfect."

"Is the new fifth year in here?" A voice echoed through the common room. "Percival Valley? Professor Weasley is waiting for you outside the common room."

"I'd better hurry," Percival said. "It was nice talking to you, Samantha. Good luck with your dittany."

"You too!" Samantha replied. "And good luck to you too on your first day!"

Percival went down the stairs he'd entered through - thankfully he remembered which ones they were - and the door swung out for him, revealing Professor Weasley with her hands clasped in front of her and an impatient Idris pacing the balcony.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long Professor," Percival apologized and prepared himself for the crushing hug Idris pulled him into.

"The Gryffindor common room is so cool!" Idris told him. "It's got this nice warm tone so it's nice and cozy and it feels really lived in and comfortable with all the warm woods and this huge fireplace."

"The Ravenclaw dorm is gorgeous too," Percival told him, already feeling his lips twitching to smile as Idris shook their hands excitedly. It was so nice to see them so excited. "I think we're keeping Professor Weasley waiting though."

"Right, sorry Professor!" Idris winced and quickly stepped away from Percival, clasping their hands behind their back.

"It's alright," Professor Weasley chuckled. "It's always gratifying to hear students' excitement over their common rooms, especially Gryffindors. Now, I trust you two are ready for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"I've been ready for the last four years," Idris answered.

"I've been dreaming of this day for months," Percival agreed. "I almost can't believe we're here."

"Well you are here," Professor Weasley smiled. "Make the most of it. You only have one first day at Hogwarts. Now, in light of your unique situation, joining us as a 5th year, you'll need to catch up with your classmates, and not fall behind. Especially as you'll be expected to complete your O.W.L.s at the end of the year."

"Owls?" Idris' eyebrows scrunched up a bit in confusion.

"Yes, your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams," Professor Weasley explained. "They will determine what type of career you can have when you leave here. After much discussion with the Headmaster and the Department of Magical Education at the ministry, we;ve devised a few ways to ensure your success."

"The first of these is your classes," Weasley continued. "To begin you will only be attending Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. Other classes such as Beasts, Astronomy, and the electives you selected with Professor Fig will be added to your schedule as you progress so as to not overwhelm you too early in the term. The second is this."

Professor Weasley held out her hands and two large leather bound books fell into them. She handed one to each of them. Percival tried to open his but it burst open all on its own, Idris' just behind it. Pages flew from the books shrouded in golden light. They swirled through the air, weaving through each other and the pages from Percival's book, until they all filed back into the book and into Percy's hands again.

"What is it?" Percival wondered.

"It is a wizard's field guide," Weasley answered. "It will help you to keep track of what you're learning so that you master all that's expected of a fifth year. You would be wise to take advantage of this exceptionally valuable resource."

Professor Weasley spent a few minutes explaining the Field Guide to them. Pages were in the book and scattered around the world for them to learn Wizarding lore, there were challenges listed in the book to help track their milestones, a map, and a place where they could take notes of their own. She also took the time to show them the floo flame system, leading to them descending the staircase in the Central Hall, an absolute monolith of a room with a fountain of stone mermaids, a chiseled dragon mural, an overhang leading to the library, and what looked like the entrance to a greenhouse.

"You can get almost anywhere in the castle quickly from Central Hall," Weasley told them. "Always something happening here. It's the heart of the hive. Our 'Kings Cross Station,' so to speak."

Professor Weasley stopped at the bottom of the stairs, giving them a moment to gaze around the wall. Idris was staring right at the dragon effigy with rapt attention. They seemed entranced by it but was pulled back when Weasley spoke again.

"What should be all for now," Weasley said. "You'll be expected to attend both Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes today."

Professor Weasley made a motion like plucking something out of the air, conjuring two pieces of paper. She waved her wand and handed them to the twins.

"These are your schedules for now," Weasley explained. "The other classes will appear as the Headmaster, Professor Fig, and I approve your progress."

While Percival was a little disappointed he wouldn't get to attend Astronomy yet, and he imagined Idris was disappointed they would be missing Beasts class, but he also understood the reasoning behind it and was grateful for it.

"I'd also like to speak with you about your belongings," Weasley said. That got their attention. "Deek!"

A creature Percival only recognized as a house-elf from pictures appeared next to Professor Weasley.

"Children, this is Deek, a house elf here at Hogwarts," Weasley introduced the elf. "Deek, these are the students you were told about. Deek and a few other house-elves were asked to search for and salvage as many of your things as you can."

"Deek and his friends are still searching," Deek said shyly. "It is taking longer than Deek expected, but all your things are being delivered to your rooms as they are found. But Deek found this and thought Idris would like to have it back. Deek tried to repair it as best as Deek could."

"I'm Idris, what is it?" Idris asked, words coming out in a breathless rush.

Deek made the same motion Professor Weasley had to summon their field guides, but what fell into his hand was a different leatherbound book. This was much smaller and simple, held closed with a brass latch and with a rose carved into the leather of the front cover. It was certainly more worn and dirty than Percival remembered, but there was no doubt what it was.

"My sketchbook!" Idris gasped and quickly took the book. They started flipping through it faster than Percival would have been able to, eyes darting around and taking in information that mystified Percival but apparently brought Idris so much relief there were tears in their eyes. "You said you fixed it, Deek?"

"Deek hopes the drawings are alright," Deek wrung his hands a little but Idris just laughed.

"They're amazing," Idris assured him. "Thank you so much, Deek."

"Some things did not survive," Professor Weasley informed them. "Namely many of your school supplies. As such, I'd like to be sure you get to Hogsmeade as soon as possible to replace them."

"Hogsmeade?" Percival asked.

"Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain, and is home to an array of shops and pubs," Professor Weasley said. "You should be able to find all of the supplies you need, along with anything else you may want, even wands of your own."

"Thank you for explaining all this, Professor Weasley," Percival replied.

"A lot to absorb on your first day, I know," Weasley said. "And you have much to learn. Happily, your professors have agreed to create additional assignments for you outside of class. You’ll be up to speed in no time. Judging by your adept use of revelio earlier, I'd say Professor Fig succeeded in at least showing you the basics.”

“Very much so,” Percival confirmed. “We didn’t quite have time to go over all the spells he wanted to teach us, but we have plenty to build up with, both in spellcasting and in subjects like Potions and Herbology.”

“Wonderful,” Weasley nodded. “While we’re on the subject, Professor Fig has been terribly vague about the events preceding your arrival, specifically about what happened after that awful dragon attack. My suspicion is that there’s more to the story than a fruitless search for belonging and an extended trip up to the castle.”

Percival frowned a little. He vaguely remembered Fig asking them to keep the story to themselves but he would think that meant their fellow students, and perhaps Professors like the Headmaster. Professor Weasley was very unlike Black. Besides, she was a teacher, and had on repeated occasions shown concern and care for their well being in the last twelve hours alone. Percival opened his mouth to speak but Idris did so first.

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Idris said. “I’m sorry Professor, but that’s really all there is to it.”

Percival seriously considered interrupting them but as much as he disagreed with them, he didn’t want to get them in trouble for lying before they even got to their first class. So, he remained silent but internally made a note to speak with Fig about this at length after classes.

“Hmm, almost precisely what Professor Fig said,” Weasley hummed.

As if he’d been summoned, the man himself approached from Percival’s left.

“Speak of the devil,” Weasley said. “Professor Fig. Your ears must have been burning.”

“Oh?” Fig replied.

“Yes. You seem to have provided our new fifth-years with a solid foundation in the basics of spell-casting.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit there, Professor. They’ve a rare aptitude for magic it seems.”

“Hmm,” Professor Weasley hummed again, which Percival was pretty sure meant she did not believe them at all. “Well, I’m just glad you all arrived in one piece. Perfectly good boats and carriages to Hogwarts and you chose to fly in the path of a dragon.”

“I wouldn’t say I chose the dragon’s path professor,” Fig pointed out. “Rather, unfortunately, it would seem that it chose us.”

“Very well,” Weasley sighed. “Enough chit-chat. I need to get to class myself. Might I rely on you, Professor Fig, to explain the details of the Field Guide’s compass?”

“Of course.”

Professor Weasley turned back to the twins.

“Good luck today,” Professor Weasley told them. “And remember to use your Field Guide. It will be invaluable to you. And, invaluable to me as I’ll be using it to keep up to date on your progress. Come and find me in my classroom after you’ve attended both your classes today, and I’ll explain more about those assignments I mentioned. And we’ll see if we can’t get you to Hogsmeade for those supplies.”

As Weasley walked away Fig stared after her. The moment she turned a corner and was out of sight, Fig stepped close enough to the twins he could drop his voice to a whisper.

“Did I hear you masterfully evade Professor Weasley’s interrogation regarding our late arrival?” Fig questioned.

“Yes you did, Professor,” Idris answered with a grin, practically glowing with pride.

“Though I’m not sure we should have,” Percival spoke up. “I don’t like the idea of keeping secrets like this, and certainly not lying about them. Perhaps we should tell someone, Professor Weasley especially. I’m fairly certain she already suspects we aren’t being entirely forthcoming. She may be able to help us. She seems to be quite the capable witch.”

“She is a brilliant and astute witch,” Fig agreed. “But it was right to keep the details to yourselves for now. We don’t know where this path we’ve embarked on will lead. It may require a bit more…flexibility with your time than she would approve of. And she may feel obliged to share details with the headmaster that would be better left between us.”

Percival had to admit hiding it from Professor Black seemed a good idea. The Headmaster had seemed flippant at best about his students and neglectful at most. But what he kept coming back to was the fact they shouldn’t be on this path at all. If Fig wanted to continue to investigate, that was his right. Percival would even be willing to help in certain situations, but this was not his or Idris’ responsibility. They’d already countered dragons, Ranrok, deadly suits of armor, and the colossus that fought Ranrok and nearly killed the three of them too. No children should be involved with that.

“Professor, I don’t-”

“Understood, Professor,” Idris interrupted him again. Percival made another note to argue with Idris later as well.

“Good,” Professor Fig said. “Now. As capable as the two of you are, I believe the ability you possess obliges you to be well-trained. Happily, you have the benefit of an exceptionally skilled team of witches and wizards to guide you.”

Percival barely caught sight of Idr’s eyebrows scrunching up a little but they didn’t say anything as Fig continued on to explain the Charmed Compass in the Field Guide, which would certainly come in handy. A map of the castle was handy but Percival could hardly decipher the thing. There were too many random corridors and staircases and oddly placed doors to easily track your path.

“Now, sounds like you’ve quite a day ahead what with classes and a trip to Hogsmeade,” Professor Fig commented. “Including your wands, which I know you are particularly excited for. You’ll enjoy Mr. Ollivander. He’s an exceptional craftsman and a good friend. For now, focus on your glasses. I shall reach out when I have more information about our mysterious locket.”

“See you soon Professor,” Idris waved to Fig as he stepped away.

Idris pulled out their field guide and copied the wand motion Fig had shown them. A golden page burst out of the book and flew out up the stairs, thankfully leaving a golden trail of light behind for them to follow.

“Guess Charms is that way,” Idris snickered.

Percivla was silent as they followed the compass the page left behind, too busy engaging in a debate with himself to try and start any sort of conversation. Idris obviously had no qualms about this Ancient Magic path, while Percival had more than a few reservations. But what really grinded his gears was the way Idris had kept talking over him during the conversation with Fig. It was a habit Idris had and normally Percival could tolerate it, but that didn't feel like habit. It seemed more purposeful, to keep Percy from saying anything against what Fig and Idris thought best.

“Hey Perce?” Idris said. Apparently they were having a conversation after all. Percival hummed in acknowledgment. “Am I a witch or a wizard?”

“What?”

“Sometimes I’m more of a man or a woman, but not all the time,” Idris reminded him. “Most of the time I’m not really either. I guess sometimes I’m both, but that’s not helpful here. So would I be a witch or a wizard?”

“Huh,” Percival tilted his head as he considered it. The debate could wait, this was something important to Idris. Besides, it was an interesting question. “I suppose neither.”

“What am I then?”

“You could make up your own word,” Percival suggested. “Or choose a different one.”

“Have you seen any in those old legends you read?” Idris wondered.

“Plenty,” Percival answered. “Sorcerer could be neutral, as could warlock, mage, sometimes I’ve seen the word shaman-”

“I like mage,” Idris grinned, bouncing on their toes a little now as they walked. “Mage feels good.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mage,” Percival laughed and Idris made a little noise of excitement as they approached the end of the compass’ trail, which presumably meant they’d found their charms class.

The Charms classroom was like no classroom Percival had ever seen. It reminded him of an amphitheater, now that he thought about it. A lower floor through the center of arcing tiers, each with a long table with three chairs. At the opposite end was a platform like a viewing box with what Percival assumed was the Professor’s desk. Already their classmates were waving to each other and finding seats, leaving Percival and Idris to stand there aimlessly.

“Where do you want to sit?” Percival asked.

“No idea,” Idris sighed.

“Here!” A girl’s voice came from their right. On the top tier was a girl in a Gryffindor uniform and Idris immediately smiled. “There are open seats here.”

“Up there, come on,” Idris decided. They grabbed Percival’s hand and dragged him up, like he wasn’t perfectly capable of following on his own. They steered Percival to the seat on the end and they sat in the middle, between Percival and the girl.

“Percy, this is Natsai, or Natty,” Idris explained. “We met in our common room this morning and she’s freaking awesome. Natty, this is my brother I told you about, Percival.”

“I remember!” Natty replied. “They told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you Percival. Have you met Professor Ronen yet-”

She was interrupted by a man clearing his throat on the other side of the classroom. At the top of a curved staircase their professor appeared, dressed in purple and green and looking far too cheerful for such an early morning.

“Shall we begin?” Professor Ronen exclaimed. “Welcome to year five of Charms Now, this will be a crucial year in your education on the art of Charmwork, but I am confident that we will take hold with the passion and rigor requisite of such a challenge.”

“He talks like you,” Idris snickered into Percival’s ear and Percy elbowed them.

“Right, now everyone, please open your textbooks to page five one seven,” Ronen ordered.

“Do you think he’ll take ‘a dragon ate my homework’ as an excuse,” Idris winced.

“It’s just the one class, we’re getting new books this afternoon,” Percival reminded them. “But…yeah, this could get annoying fast if we need books in Defense Against the Dark Arts too.”

“We can share mine,” Natty offered and slid her textbook over to Idris since they were in the middle.

“Told you she was awesome,” Idris commented as they opened the textbook.

“Buuut, before we begin,” Ronen cut them off before they could find the page. “Can anyone tell me the difference between the incantations of the Colour Change and Growth Charm?”

Percival immediately threw his hand in the hair, having studied this exact thing so he didn’t get the extremely similar incantations confused. Apparently no one else had done the same as no one else raised their hands.

“Only one?” Ronen clicked his tongue disappointedly. “Mr. Valley I believe?”

“Yes sir,” Percival nodded. “The growth charm begins with cres, rather than colo, but both incantations end the same.”

“Well done Mr. Valley, ten points to Ravenclaw!” Ronen clapped his hands. “As for the rest of you, the summer months must have really taken a toll on you. By the looks of it, you all spent your holidays practicing obliviate on each other!”

Professor Ronen laughed to himself as he considered his students.

“Do you even remember how to perform a basic summoning charm?” Ronen wondered.

It wasn’t that Percival had forgotten , rather that he’d never learned how. The summoning charm had been on the list of spells Fig had not gotten around to teaching them, leaving Percival to look just as oblivious as the students who should have learned it in fourth year. “Hm. Well, it seems we are in dire need of review.”

Professor Ronen directed them all to stand on opposite sides of the classroom, Percival across from Natty and Idris across from a tall Gryffindor boy with short ginger. Ronen made sure each pair had a book and instructed them to take turns summoning them from each others’ hands. Thankfully he took the time to quickly teach the twins the wand movement and incantation for the spell so they could participate in the exercise.

Idris’ first attempt at the charm only gave the book in their partner’s hand a small yank, but when Percival tried the charm Natty’s textbook flew from her grip and into Percival’s hand so fast it almost hit him in the face.

“That is certainly not bad,” Natty chuckled.

“You are a swift learner!” Ronen praised him. “I see a lot of potential. But remember, potential is nothing without practice! Keep at it, you might just rival Miss Onai here!”

A few minutes passed of the students summoning the books back and forth. It looked like Idris and their partner made a sort of game out of it, even though they couldn’t speak to each other from opposite sides of the classroom. Idris managed to get the spell down too which Percival was proud of them for.

“Well!” Professor Ronen grabbed their attention again. “As you all seem to have the basics down, and it is an exceptionally lovely day, I was thinking we might have ourselves a little excursion outside for a spot of fresh air. After me!”

Percival and Idris shared a glance of confusion before following their professor down through the castle and onto the lawn.

“I’ve always found that fun goes hand-in-hand with mastery, as I’m sure the quidditch players amongst us would agree,” Professor Ronen chuckled. “So, what better than a bit of sport to put our prowess with the Summoning Charm to the test?”

Professor Ronen waved his wand through the air and the class watched as colorful planks of wood constructed themselves into two platforms, one with numbers at each color and the other with stairs. Large blue spheres like marbles dropped onto the far platform as Ronen waved Percival up the stairs.

“So, why don’t we have one of our new students start us off?”

Ronen quickly explained the game to him, which was called Summoner’s Court. Apparently the goal was to use the summoning charm on the balls and pull them towards you, but time the release of your charm so they landed as close to the edge as possible without falling off. Charms and timing. Percival could definitely handle this. And sure enough, he came out of it with a near perfect score, having ended with only one sphere outside the final zone.

“Excellently done!” Ronen cheered. Percival expected him to switch Percival out for another student, but instead three more balls dropped onto the court, this time red.

This time Percival had to play against Natty. He would normally deny it but Natsai won very easily. He hadn’t even thought of the fact they could knock each other’s marbles off the court, docking their opponents’ points significantly.

So next round, even with the moving boxes Ronen decided to add, Percival was ready. Not only did Percival win this time, but he won with a perfect score and beat Natty by fifty points.

“Very good both you, well done,” Ronen complimented them both as they descended from the platform.

He matched up a few more students but soon they were headed back inside to the Charms classroom to retrieve their things as Ronen dismissed class.

“Good game back there Percival,” Natty chuckled. “I must admit, I think I underestimated you. Took weeks for me to get proficient in accio. Took weeks for me to get anything right when I transferred here. It gets easier, I promise.”

“I’m glad someone understands,” Percival said. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“To put it lightly!” Natty agreed.

“At least we’re holding our own so far,” Idris pointed out. “Especially Percival over here. Already mastering a charm we didn’t even get to glance at.”

“Charms are easy,” Percival shrugged.

“Maybe for you .”

“You’re good at other things,” Percival argued.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Idris grinned. “Natty, did you say you transferred to Hogwarts too?”

“Yes, I transferred here from Uagadou just before my fourth year,” Natty answered. “My mother received an offer to teach divination here. Before I knew it we had left Uganda and were halfway around the world at a new school in a new country.”

“Is Uagadou another wizarding school?” Percival asked.

“Yes, Uagadou School of Magic is the largest Wizarding school in the world,” Natty giggled. “But it never felt intimidating. It only felt like home.”

“You know, we could have ended up at Uagadou,” Idris realized. “Remember, we almost ended up staying in Gauteng because that’s where mom’s family was from and they couldn’t find Dad’s, which suddenly makes a lot of sense. If we’d stayed there we probably would have ended up at Uagadou instead of Hogwarts.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Percival hummed. “But you’re right. Wow. That’s strange to think about. Now I’m even more curious.”

“I’d be happy to talk about Uagadou,” Natty said.

“This might seem an odd question, but is magic the same there as it is here?” Percival wondered.

“Mostly yes,” Natty hummed. “But I did have to learn how to use a wand when I arrived here. Hardly anyone at Uagadou uses one.”

“Oh yeah, Professor Fig mentioned wandless magic,” Idris remembered. “It’s instinctive, right?”

“You’d know wouldn’t you?” Percival teased.

“I don’t follow,” Natty said.

“This?” Percival gestured to their hair. “Their fault. They accidentally turned it purple when we were little and no one’s been able to change it back. I’d certainly call that instinctive magic.”

“Or perhaps a jinx,” Natsai chuckled.

“Mr. and Mx. Valley, a moment if you please?” Ronen called out as the last few students filed out of the classroom.

“See you later Natty!” Idris waved.

“Yeah, what they said,” Percival laughed. “I look forward to seeing you around, and continuing to make you work for your Charms reputation.”

“I look forward to seeing you try,” Natsai laughed too before leaving.

Professor Ronen congratulated Percival again on his success and praised Idris for how quickly they learned the charm. Then he reminded them of the extra assignments Professor Weasley had mentioned which Percival would admit he had forgotten about. Ronen told them to expect one from him in the near future and sent them off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Well that was definitely a class,” Idris laughed as they followed the compass again, this time from Percival’s Field Guide.

“What do you think this one will entail?” Percival wondered. “Didn’t Fig say you seemed to have an aptitude for these spells?”

“Hell yeah he did,” Idris said. “Did you see me fighting the armor at Gringotts? I was kicking metal butt.”

“Well as long as you’re humble about it.”

“Maybe we’ll fight a dragon and you’ll get bit again.”

“Shut up Idris.”

Idris was still laughing as they entered the classroom, only to curse as they jumped to the left to avoid a purple spell that nearly hit them.

“Oh great, this guy,” Idris rolled their eyes.

The Gryffindor boy Idris had gotten paired up with in charms was trading spells and shields with a Slytherin with shaggy brown hair and covered in freckles.

“What did he do to you?” Percival questioned.

“His name’s Leander Prewett,” Idris rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. “An arrogant prick if you ask me.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” The Slytherin taunted Leander. “ Bombarda !”

Leander threw up a shield just in time to deflect the spell, but unfortunately for him it went straight up, knocking off the head of a giant dragon skeleton suspended from the ceiling. Leander ducked and covered his head with his arms but at the last second they heard a cry of “ Levioso!” and the skull stopped in mid air, hovering just a few centimeters above Leander’s head.

“Professor Hecat!” A girl exclaimed.

“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” Hecat scolded them. “I get new students every year but I only have one Hebridean Black skull. It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it.”

Professor Hecat lifted her wand and the skull floated up back into place.

“Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in eastern Wales and lived to boast about it,” Hecat said. “Knowledge.”

“To the wise, age matters very little,” Hecat continued. “Today we will review a spell that has saved me from death at the hands of Dark wizards more times than I can remember: Levioso .”

“ Levioso ?” Leander scoffed. “A levitation charm?”

Hecat whipped around and casted that exact charm on Leander, making him fly into the air and hover, barely able to hold onto his bearings.

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent,” Hecat said. “Care to defend yourself, master Prewett? No?

“Oh this is the best class ever,” Idris decided and Percival snickered as a crowd formed around Hecat. They’d ended up next to the Slytherin boy Leander had been dueling with and he snickered at Idris’s comment too.

“One thing I’ve learned as an Unspeakable is the value of simplicity,” Hecat explained as she lowered Leander back down. “Especially in the heat of battle. Now, let’s practice what we’ve just learned, starting with something small. Mx. Valley, join me please.”

Idris approached Hecat who summoned a wooden dummy to stand in front of them. She conjured a shield charm around it but rather than the normal purple it was a golden yellow. She had Idris try a basic cast which was immediately deflected and almost hit poor Samantha. Then she taught them Levioso and had them cast that. The charm broke the shield and Idris was able to quickly follow up Levioso with a few basic casts, knocking over the dummy and even leaving a few marks on it.

“Well done,” Professor Hecat nodded. “But the best way to practice is by dueling. We’ll start with you and Mr. Sebastian Sallow. Duellists, take your marks!”

“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” Sebastian, the Slytherin boy from earlier, drawled as he passed Idris and Percival considered tripping him.

To their credit Idris just rolled their eyes and went to their mark on the floor. The floor immediately rose, leaving a platform they could try to knock each other off of.

“Now I want a fair duel,” Hecat warned them. “Only use Levioso , Basic Cast, and Protego . You may begin.”

As it turned out, Fig saying Idris was “proficient” in defensive magic had been an understatement. As soon as Hecat said the word both duellists Idris was casting, levitating Sebastian into the air and following it up with a burst of Basic Casts. Sebastian was clearly a gifted duellist, that much had been obvious when they first walked in. But Idris was destroying him. He didn’t even have time to cast Protego with how often Idris was throwing spells at him. It took only seconds before Sebastian was on the ground looking up at Idris with wide eyes while Idris smirked down at him.

“Thanks for the welcome, Sebastian,” Idris snickered.

Idris climbed down from the platform and offered Sebastian a hand which he surprisingly took with a laugh. Percival was immediately at Idris’ side just in case.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Sebastian chuckled. “You give as good as you get.”

Sebastian walked off and Professor Hecat approached them.

“I put you on the spot and you rose to the challenge,” Hecat said appreciatively. “Points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Professor Hecat,” Idris nodded. “I was just glad to finally practice these spells.”

“If what I’ve seen today is any indication, we can expect great things from you,” Hecat hummed. “I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of it and they must achieve it. A classroom duel is one thing, but battling dark wizards—or, as ever more likely, goblins—is a different kettle of Grindylows entirely.”

“I can assure you we have no intention of finding Dark wizards,” Percival promised. “But we understand all the same.”

“So, I’d advise you to keep practicing whenever you can,” Hecat suggested. “Perhaps Mr. Sallow will have some ideas for you. Again, well done today. I shall reach out soon with additional assignments.”

Hecat dismissed class and as the twins prepared to leave Sebastian stopped them.

“Nice work,” Sebastian said.

“Thank you,” Idris replied. “I enjoyed that.”

“That duel was quite something,” Sebastian agreed. “Everyone’ll be talking about it.”

“It was certainly good practice,” Idris said.

“Practice?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “It felt more like I was dueling an expert. Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand. Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”

“In fact it was,” Idris replied, which Percival supposed technically wasn’t a lie. They’d certainly fought with their wand before but not another wizard.

“Perhaps you have a knack for it,” Percival shrugged.

“Be coy if you like, but I know better,” Sebastian smirked. “Magic requires intention and talent. You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” Idris grinned. “Count me in.”

Percival sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Excellent, I knew I was right about you,” Sebastian said. “If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.”

“Oh I know,” Idris snickered and narrowed their eyes at Percival who just rolled his eyes again. “I’ll keep that in mind though thank you.”

“Good,” Sebastian nodded. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Sebastian left and Percival kicked Idris in the shin.

“A secret dueling club? Really Dris?” Percival sighed.

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to come,” Idris huffed and stuck their tongue out at him. “Now come on, we're supposed to meet Professor Weasley. I’m way too excited to see Hogsmeade.”

#a mourning warning #percival valley #idris valley #perceth #garreth weasley x mc #idrit #amit thakkar x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy male mc #hogwarts legacy male oc

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razorsadness · 2 years ago

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There is so much, so much to say. So much, these days. And I’m sleep-deprived so this entry will be a haphazard list rather than a well-thought-out piece of prose, but I need to get some of this down because there’s just going to keep being more and more and more.

—The last day of March I dressed up in a very queer-punk getup to attend the Queer Youth Assemble rally in Kenosha. I put my harness on along with my other undergarments, and over that I wore tall black boots and a loose, long black dress and my leather jacket that has studs and appliqué roses on it (the one I always describe as cowpunk-meets-Kathy Acker). I did elaborate eye makeup and darkened my wispy lil’ mustache with mascara, and went to the rally. And a bunch of my cishet ally friends were there, and a bunch of my queer and trans friends were there, including my crush Shelley. (Shelley is a pseudonym and yes, I did christen them that in an homage to both Mary and Percy Byshe, because they are goth and a poet.) All of us were in our Most Gender finery, complimenting each other, and Shelley looked super hot in their leopard coat and cat’s-eye glasses. After the rally ended due to rain, Shelley and a few other folks and I went out for beers and nachos and I can’t tell you how good it felt to be Out and Queer. In fact, our waiter (gender neutral) said they had wanted to be at the rally but couldn’t make it due to work and they thanked us for going and said we all looked ‘hot as fuck.’

—It got warmer as the day went on, rained more, then the fog rolled in, then thunderstorms, then back to just rain, and it was warm enough I was able to leave the window open overnight for the first time this year, and I could hear the rain and the trains.

—April first it got cold again, and the wind returned, and it was not my lover, this was brutal bitter asshole wind. I ran some errands, including meeting up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned him to do for Ali’s birthday. And then I had a bit of the sads, because the kids were cranky and I was PMSing. And because I was thinking about M., how it’s now been 18 years since he died, and how it still hurts that I can never tell him how much he meant to me. But I wrote some poems and took some selfies and then I drank a little too much wine and listened to W/IFS, like I do when I’m in my feelings.

—And the two days after that were kind of crappy, I was still sad and cranky from PMS, and stressed about the upcoming election. But I did some voter outreach stuff and wrote more poems and did some painting and ate dark chocolate and drank tea.

—Then election day, and despite the storms (including hail!) Wisconsin turned the fuck out, and the election turned out the way I had hoped, and I am so relieved that my state overwhelmingly voted against the right-wing extremist judge and that my town voted against the MAGA freak mayoral candidate. And P. and I had amazing sex that night.

—And the next couple days were mostly about packing for a trip to Door County, and more poems, and more sex. And there was more rain, more storms, but also warmth, and bits of sun and butterflies, and the greening grass.

—Two days before Easter, we headed north. Everything was muddy and brown and we saw e a lot of birds—hawks and herons and wild turkeys. There were road snacks and road silliness. We saw a truck that said Lubenow on it, and we figured out later it had to be someone’s last name (like Luben-ow), but it was like “got it, looks like Lube Now.” And at the rest area we usually stop at there’s this big Wisconsin tourism sign that’s supposed to look like a license plate, and it says LUV R AG (as in Love Our Agriculture), but again, because of the kerning and design, it looks like Luv Rag. So P. and I were making jokes about how Luv Rag sounds like the name of a band of sleazy middle-aged dudes trying to cling to their ‘80s hair metal days, and I said: “Thank you! We are Luv Rag, and this is our new single, ‘Lube Now!’”

—We were up there for five nights, 4.5 days. It was less stressful than staying with my parents usually is, and except for the first half of our first full day there, the weather was great. I ate a ton of good food and stayed up late writing most nights; found out about a sonnet contest I’m going to enter. P. and I got to go out, just the two of us, several times. We went out for drinks a few times; got to sit out by the fire pit at Door County Brewing Co. and listen to a great folk musician who goes by the name of Hunter Gatherer. (I already liked him cuz when we first arrived, he was playing a cover of Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” and then a bit later he was introducing one of his originals and said: “This song’s about running from the cops.” And I liked him even more.) Other times we just drove around the peninsula, or went hiking in Peninsula State Park and exploring our favorite tiny old cemetery. Our last full day there, we took the kids swimming (in a pool, not the lake—it’s still way too cold for that!), and I hadn’t been swimming in years and I had forgotten how much I love it, how at home I feel in the water, like that’s where I belong, like that’s where my body works the way it should.

—We arrived home to the daffodils and violets in bloom and everything even greener, buds on the trees, more warm weather, and there were days of childlike joys and nights of adult pleasures. Days of playing hopscotch with C. and reading endless books, of iced coffee and shooting hoops and watching the backyard birds and squirrels. One evening, we even got to grill for the first time this year, and make s’mores for dessert. Nights of drinking a bit, and hot sex, and staying up late writing.

—Then it got cold again, and it rained, then snowed. Yesterday I felt really bad for the first half of the day. Partly cuz of the weather; gray and cold and gloomy and it was hard being cooped up inside again after that week of warmth and sunshine. Partly cuz I was sleep-deprived (the kids have been waking up hella early lately.) Partly cuz fucking everything was making me cry. I dunno, I was having weird-bad gender feels, and also feeling uninspired/unmotivated writing-wise, like ‘oh, I made it through the first half of NaPoWriMo, but I think I’m tapped out now.’ And maybe a bit of that ol’ pre-Mercury Rx shadow period creeping in there, bringing up old issues and feelings—I was missing my good old bad old scumbag days. The days of freight hoppin’ and basement shows and circus freakery, and dumpster diving and busking and long bike rides across cities, of wheat paste and graffiti and stick n’ pokes and sleeping out, under the stars, giving myself over to scary thoughts, & omens, & excess. The days when most everyone I knew had a clown act and a copy of the Crew Change Guide. I made a cup of tea and lay in bed watching Netflix for a while. First I watched the “Beyond the Binary” episode of Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness, and then I watched Mae Martin’s new comedy special, Sap. And of course both of those have to do with gender stuff (at least in part), and both of them talked about growing up queer/GNC and having such a hard time and turning to drug abuse and other self-destructive behaviors, even though they were white, middle-class kids who were not kicked out by their parents. And I was like, oh hey, me too. And both shows made me cry, and it was good cathartic crying, but I still felt like shit afterwards. So then I started thinking about some ways to bring back some of the less-destructive aspects of my scumbag days back into my life, and I was still feeling sad, and then I decided to check in on the contest results of the WB Yeats Poetry Prize and the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize.

Both of them said they’d announce the contest winners on their websites sometime in or after March. The Yeats Prize said it would also contact the winners directly; the Ginsberg Prize said no such thing, but I assumed they would. Starting in mid-March, I was checking both sites every few days or so, and obsessively checking my email/snail mail. And nothing, nothing, nothing. The last time I’d checked the sites was April 3, and yesterday I was like: “Well, it’s been two weeks, there must be some news by now,” and I was assuming I would go on and see the list of winners and my name would not be there and maybe it was a bad idea because I was already feeling so crappy, but then I was also kinda like, well, I might as well get all the bad feelings out of the way at once. But still, on both websites, the most recent winner’s list was from 2022. And then, I shit you not, like eight minutes later, P. brought the mail in and handed me an envelope. Return address: The Poetry Center At Passaic County Community College, One College Blvd., Paterson, NJ. Location of the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize. My hands shook as I opened it. And…I fucking won! Not first, second, or third place, but I don’t even care because one of the poems I sent them (the one that is probably, in my opinion, among the best poems I’ve ever written, but also one of the riskiest) received an Editor’s Choice Award! And it’s gonna be published in the Spring 2024 issue of the Paterson Literary Review, and I’ve been invited to participate in the awards ceremony/reading there, next February.

I don’t even know how to express how much this means to me. Professionally, but also personally. Like, first of all, New Jersey is such a huge part of my personal mythology. I was conceived in New Jersey! So many of the people who have meant the most to me, personally/artistically, have New Jersey roots! Like Allen Ginsberg! And Jack Terricloth! And Bruce Springsteen! And my witchwife, Penny! And also just, well, I mean god, Allen Ginsberg. For better or worse, the Beat Generation and punk rock have been the most enduring influences on me/my writing, starting at a very young age, and Allen Ginsberg is definitely towards the very top of that “beat + punk influence list.” I just. Can’t. Fucking. Get Over It. Can’t quite believe it! I keep touching the letter they sent me to remind myself it’s real. (It’s on the Poetry Center’s official stationery, which is on beautiful, thick, creamy paper.) I keep blowing kisses at my framed photo of Ginsberg, one where he’s sitting at his typewriter, writing a poem.

—So yesterday evening, P. and I dropped the kids off at my folks’ house for a bit. We went to pick up takeout dinner for everyone, but also got to have a celebratory whiskey while we waited. And I stayed up late last night. First, I wrote a poem—guess I wasn’t totally tapped out, after all. Then I was just awake scheming and planning (and wishing and hoping). About immediate future stuff, like this year’s vegetable garden, and going through my books to find some to donate to the library’s book sale. As well as the positive scumbaggery I can reincorporate into my life—I remembered that I bought myself that stick n’ poke kit last year, so soon I’m gonna give myself a new tattoo; and I started thinking up ideas for a poetry wheatpaste project. And then—travel. I still wanna travel a bit this year, but I think I’m gonna keep it mostly midwest. Then, next year, I’m gonna head out east again finally, after all these years, for the awards ceremony, but I’m gonna try to book a mini-tour around it, and there will be old friends and new friends and old haunts and…yeah. I am so fucking ready.

—And today I’m sleep deprived, again—I was up late, and the kiddos once again got up stupid early. But I don’t even mind. I got some writing done and listened to some podcasts and oh, tomorrow I get to go see Bikini Kill. I’ve been waiting for this concert for over three years (from when I first bought the tickets in December 2019, before it got postponed many many times due to CoViD), but I’ve also been waiting for this concert since I was twelve—from when I first heard Bikini Kill, and wanted to go see them, but then they broke up before I got the chance. (And yeah, I saw Le Tigre a couple times, and that was fun, but not the same.) And there’s a lot of stuff going on right now that teen me and early-to-mid twenties me would be super stoked about—like the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Prize, like seeing Bikini Kill, like stick n’ pokes and wheatpaste and travel plans. And that feels kinda great; showing my younger self that I am still rocking that shit at my advanced (haha) age. And just overall, things are so good lately. There is so much joy, even in the mundane. Even the bad shit doesn’t seem as bad as it did for a while, because in these past four months I have proven to myself that my life isn’t over, that I can still do rad shit, that I can still experience beauty and joy.

#ashtrayfloors #dear livejournal #also once again i don't feel like obsessively tagging this so:#i guess general cw #for food and sex and alcohol mentions #plus brief mentions of weird gender feels and drug abuse #and pms #plus some bragging #but this is generally a really positive entry

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alloutofgoddesses · 2 years ago

Text

TLOVM Live blog, S2E12

(There will be campaign & Tal’dorei Reborn spoilers, this is your one warning)

Last episode for a WHILE I’m feeling both relieved (not having to keep up with show & campaign at the same time) and sad (I want all of it now)

I love Scanlan’s imagined future with the extremely comical Vax mustache

I hate that lol

Aahhhhhh (disgust)

Hi Grog

I absolutely loved watching this in the campaign. It’s one of the most vivid memories I have and it’s incredible to see it nearly shot-for-shot animated

“Oh Keyleth doesn’t need to be an eagle right now? Slay” - the animators probably

Eep

WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS WINGS EINSHE ISNSBJJDBDBWIENSHEHEJEDHDJ

WWWWIIIINNNNGGGGGGSSSSSS

I love flying just as much as Laura Bailey does

Keyleth now is NOT the time (although you’re right)

Can’t have SHIT when you’re a twin

Obviously we’ve spent the most time with Umbrasyl and I’m excited to see what the others look like in detail shots but like. He’s so damn cool and I love his design SO MUCH

Zoom

OH MY GOD

That was terrifying thank you Hope Devourer

Grogs going to have to fight with a broken leg huh

Sorry I was in my feels about how well this party works together. Anyway, dragon cool

GET BONKED

Hey. Hi. I never ever want to be making eye contact like Grog and Umbrasyl just did. Like. Ever. With any type of creature.

FOR YOUR IMAGINARY GRANDKIDS SCANLAN SHORTHALT YOU’RE OFFICIALLY GETTING BLORBO’D

(Obviously Percy is the babygirl of this group)

YEAH SCANLAN THE MOST HEROIC BARD SINCE LOQUACIOUS SEELIE AND NYDAS OKIRO

SHE KISS

I love the Percy exasperated/relived stance. Me too bestie.

I don’t trust floating key in a dragons hoard

It would be objectively hilarious if Vax also had to lead every enemy to the afterlife

When did Wilhand paint the new locket with bearded Grog

RAISHANNNNNNNNNNNNN! ICON

What the fuck did she do to keeper Yennen

Vorugal! Do you think he’s uncomfy every time he visits Thordak since they are exact opposites? Or does it matter to dragons like them?

Oop the babies

#critical role #tlovm spoilers #the legend of vox machina

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lordgrimoire · 8 months ago

Text

So I’m gonna write a bit, just a fun bit that ain’t too serious but has some feels.

This is set between The Sea of Monsters and The Titans Curse

Demigods are not supposed to travel in large groups.

This is a natural law, the more demigods are gathered, the more they are under threat.

Unfortunately for Clarisse, things had not gone her way when she went to escort a group of half a dozen demigods to camp from Albany.

But now as she glared at the monsters that had been chasing them for nearly a week, keeping them from Long Island sound or any river crossing they had been forced back into the New York Hills and the Appalachians. So now here they were, having swept up the rest of a dozen demigods as they prepared to make a stand just north of a small farm where herds of cattle were grazing.

“Clarisse? I have an idea.” Clarisse looked over at one of the other kids, one of Hermes kids.

“Yeah? What would that be?” She sees it clutched in the kids hands, the small silver coin with a tree etched into it, The Celtic Tree of Life.

“Percy showed me how to call for help…” Clarisse sent another silent but strong prayer up to the heavens, and after receiving nothing back and the monsters still circling she nodded.

“What do you need us to do?”

——————————————————————

The monsters were closing in, Clarisse was starting to worry, but Will seemed certain of his plan, and as he whispered his last plea and burned the strip of bacon from their dwindling rations they felt it. The June sun began to beat like a heart, and a pilled of fire slammed into the monsters at their thickest concentration. The golden dust that shatters from the broken bodies of the monsters is thick and Clarisse heard three things as she blinks the sunspots from her eyes, a hunting horn, the baying of hounds, and the screams of monsters all around them.

When the dust and light settles, instead of a god laughing above them they see a man with a sad smile, adorned with a hunting vest and rifle sitting atop the hood of a camper van, his hounds trot around the field, sniffing and picking up pieces of monster, their weapons and armor, or just rolling in the gold dust.

Clarisse decides to pay the respect earned and begins to bow when she hears him hop off the hood of his van, light boots crunching in the dust and branches of the field.

“Rise, Children of the Olympians. I heard a cry for help, and I am here, who is hurt, who is still able?”

As Clarisse looked at the High King of the Tuatha De Danenn she realized something, he was genuinely concerned. He, a god, was worried about a bunch of Demigods from another pantheon. So she decided to humor him.

“We’ve been running for a week, a few of us are a bit scraped up but we should be fine.” Lugh sent her an unimpressed look, his mustache twitching as he raised a brow at her.

“Put pressure on your ankle.” Clarisse did so, only to feel the pain flash through the adrenaline. She’d been hit at some point during the run to the clearing. Fuming, and cursing the still unimpressed god she huffed out a “Point Taken.” As her fellow campers listed off injuries.

The real horror started when Lugh told her he had checked with Chiron and received permission to ferry them to Camp. “We have to go the Normal way, so it’ll take the rest of the day, I wager you can all fit in the Camper, just checking, anyone want a fur ball on them? I’ll be bringing a couple of my hounds, sort of a request from your Camp Head.”

So here she was, sitting shotgun to the Irish High King of Way Too Many Things and idly scratching behind the ears of a wolfhound who was rather firmly laid down between them, trundling through New York Traffic at the speed of a snail with the radio blaring The High Kings.

“So, how does Jackson know how to call the High King of the Tuatha De Danenn?”

Lugh looked over at her, a brow raising. “Which Jackson? There’s two you know who could have given instructions on how to summon me.”

Clarisse looked at him for a moment. “Why would Ms.Jackson know how to summon you?”

Lugh laughed. “So Percy told you then, he’s a Legacy Demigod, just not a Greek Legacy.” Clarisses eyes widened.

“He’s related to two gods?” Lugh nodded.

“Ever wonder why he gets on so well with Hestia? Granted you wouldn’t know her all that well due to her disguise.”

No…

“The Unclaimed Camper who tends the campfire, that’s…?”

Lugh nodded. “Eyup, Percy’s Grandmother is Brigid, fiery goddess she is, Goddess of Wisdom, Poetry, healing, protection, Smithing, and domesticated animals,” Lugh pet his hound who had perked up at Brigids name. “He Gets the Protection and Domesticated Animals Bits from her, ties into his fatal flaw and Poseidons gifts.”

His Fatal Flaw? Alright, Clarisse will have to think on that later.

“So what he’s, 3/4ths god?” Lugh Shrugged.

“Nah, still a demigod, half n half and all that, we do have natural drawbacks to legacies, the powers get weaker, random genes happen, etcétera etcétera.”

“So…any reason our parents aren’t trying to tear you apart?” Lugh barked a laugh.

“Alright, alright you’ll love this, so, The Greek Gods, they swore never to interact with their children yeah? Yeah, they made their Roman Halves do it they made the Egyptians sort of do it, they tricked the Norse into doing it, and that’s it, no one else fell for it, not the Irish Celtic gods like me, not the Britanic Gods, not the Welsh, or Gaulic, or Breton, or Slavic and so on, I have a list.” Lugh picked up his canteen, not noticing how much of a bomb he had lain in the Demigods laps.

“Now! This is where things get interesting, so, I died once, hells most of the Irish Celtic Pantheon has died at least once, but the Dagda, who was one of our first High Kings, he was visiting a bunch of his kids in Boston, Zeus found out, and skinned them all, so your boss is a pain for everyone but here’s where he makes a mistake, that being he skinned the children, who were in fact children, not adult demigods who are fairly common in our society, you’ll see them around, but yeah Dagda did unto Zeus as was done to his kids but found out in the process how you kids were treated. So he decided on something.” Lugh raised one fist.

“Y’all know baseball? Good. Dagda was on strike two, Zeus had done evil unto another Pantheons Children and his own Pantheons Children, so he forced him to swear an Oath not just on the Styx but his throne, “Never shall you endanger, harm, or demand a thing from your children that would endanger their lives, tasks or quests should depend on the skill of the demigod in question, there’s more, a lot more, but the final bit is that if Zeus forbid another god from having kids then Dagda retains the right to usurp him for a term of seven years. And guess who just got served legal notice?” Clarisse was horrified, staring at Lugh Ashe happily drove along.

“Questions?”

“Where have you been?” Lugh’s smile dropped.

“Turns out, Zeus called in a favor, we couldn’t see Jack until Percy was brought to camp, Castellan, Kronos? All the other junk your parents have done? Oh there’s hell to pay, and not a light amount either, there are thankfully, some gods who have tried to hold to the deal, Poseidon, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes, Apollo, the rest are uh, in flux, but Zeus and Athena re in the hot seats right now.”

“Zeus I get, but why Athena?” Lugh visibly cringed.

“She thinks her children exist for one purpose, to serve her! Awful thing to do to be honest, I should know, I was like that for all of a century before I got my skull cracked over it, loads of therapy and here I am.”

Clarisse wanted to scream, maybe vomit, maybe laugh, she wasn’t sure yet. But she felt everything may work out Alright. Hopefully.

—————————————————————-

Thankfully there was someone Familiar there when they arrived, to Clarisses surprise however it was Percy’s Mother. And now that she was looking for it she could feel it as Sally Jackson looked at the ragged group that piled out of Lugh’s Camper, a feeling that her wounds stitched together a little faster, her heart slowed with a feeling of peace and safety. Before Clarisse could open her mouth to say anything She began.

“Lugh, please tell me you didn’t overstimulate them with information?” Clarisse barked a shocked laugh, Lugh sheepishly chuckled and nodded, and Ms.Jackson rolled her eyes. “Alright, Clarisse? How are you doing?” Clarisses eyes snapped up at being addressed.

“I’m fine!” The brow that rose seemed to disagree with her, she spotted Annabeth and Percy standing by The Big House, speaking with a man who looked more Giant than normal person. She realized then she was on her own. “I’m, processing it, I’m thankful but…” Ms.Jackson nodded, her expression softening to a smile.

“I understand, let’s get you all to the infirmary and I’ll try to help you figure it out.” Clarisse nodded, wondering when things had taken such a sharp slip.

(I am hoping others will pick this up and run with it, I love the idea of the Irish gods turning up and going “Yer Rules Suck” before bopping off to their usual hijinx, HAVE FUN AND THANKS FOR READING!)

The lack of pagan Percy Jackson fics is downright criminal

Think about it. Sure there is the comedy of him being a Hellenistic pagan but what if he was literally any other kind of pagan.

Chiron: you are a demigod. The old gods abandoned by modern people are real.

Pagan Percy: old? Abandoned?

————————–—–—————————————–—

Chiron: and now we sacrifice some of our food to the gods

Celtic pagan Percy: oh! alight! I sacrifice this to Danu!

Chiron: not like that!

Danu the mother of the Irish gods: something just happened.

————————–—–—————————————–—

Annabeth: we need a god’s blessing to to do this!

Celtic pagan Percy: does it need to be a Greek god?

Annabeth: it was never specified.

Percy: *pulls out a candle and prays to Morrigan*

Morrigan the Celtic goddess of war: *shows up* yeah sure you have my blessing.

Percy: thank you lady Morrigan.

————————–—–—————————————–—

Jason: do you respect any gods?

Celtic pagan Percy: The only one in the Greco-Roman pantheon that I respect is Hestia

Jason: why did you specify Greco-Roman

Percy: I respect the Celtic gods

Jason: the what?!?

Percy: (:

Jason: D:

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo memes #pjo au #pagan percy #pagan percy jackson #jason grace #percy jackson series #pjo stuff #percy pjo

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ninja-librarian · 2 years ago

Note

I feel like if the superhero team ever wanted to make a certain purse snatcher rethink his life choices, all it would take would be a pocket dimension purse with a select few teens or superheroes hiding inside.

Percy- Hehehe. That was a clean getaway if I do say so myself. Now to see what I got!

He opens the purse and a Greek god steps out, giving him a disapproving look, followed by Duck Avenger with a pair of handcuffs.

Duck Avenger, rubbing his forehead wearily: Percy. This is the THIRD TIME THIS MONTH. Why? Why do you keep, one, falling for this and two, keep stealing purses?

Storkules: We were not even subtle this time. You took the bag from Gizmoduck, whose only form of subterfuge consists of wearing what is most clearly a false mustache.

Percy, in handcuffs, shrugging: You do you, I'll do me. *glances over at Rosa* Unless you want to--

Rosa: If you finish that sentence, you're going to get TASERed.

Gizmoduck: Why does he never take advantage of that right to remain silent?

Duck Avenger: Were you under the impression that he has enough braincells to have that idea?

#The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes!

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ur-illogical-simp · 3 years ago

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MTMTE personalities / characteristics from someone who never read MTMTE.

spoilers btw, also these r all from what I got from the fanfiction, and fan art(etc) I've seen so yeah...

Rodimus: A cute but dumbass captain twink, who gets talked(looked) down upon bc hes not like Optimus Prime, and for being "immature"(I call bs)

Tailgate : a smol but strong minibot that has a stoic ex-con boyfriend

Cyclones : stoic mf who friends with a chaotic ass bitch and got turned into a autobot by a cute ass minibot

Swerve; a cute & funny bartender who is also depressed. And is also friends with Skids aka the vent rat. And apparently obsessed with human things

Whirl: an ex-wrecker, who liked making watches before going through Empurata, who now goes to therapy and regularly gets put in the brig(?) for being a chaotic mf

Rung : apparently hes primus??? I like his goggles, a very cute therapist. Idk why ppl forget his name its easy af to remember

Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus; hes a small green boi inside a big ass frame/body thing. I like his mustache, but he has a huge stick up his ass. And apparently hes apart of the "tyrest acord" idk what that is

Megatron: a ex-con warlord leader who apparently swore pacifism???? At least he regretted his actions(took him long enough), he likes poetry and I vibe with that

Tyrest: a primus obsessed bottom, I kinda feel bad cuz he punishes him self since he thinks he's not being prefect in the eyes of primus

Ratchet; a grumpy medic who reminds me of TFP ratchet due to personality and design. Like tailgate also has a cute con bf. He's good with guns

Drift: also an ex-con with an autobot bf, I read his 4 issue comic and I vibe with him, he's cute af and would totally pet the things on the side of his head. He seems very cat liked ngl

Ten: a tall ass mech, who likes Mags, and making things. He's very cute

Brainstorm: a chaotic science nerd, who simps for Percy, and i think tried to save his crush by creating the multiverse and going back in time ig???, makes cool ass weapons

Preceptor: also a science nerd who prob keeps brainstorms inventions in check, he's very cute i like the lil mini gun thing on his shoulder

Red Alert: haven't seen much about him, but hes cute and the chief security officer

Trailbreaker; dunno much bout him but hes cute

Chromedome; hes very cute! And is conjuxes(married) to rewind i believe.

Rewind: hes also cute

Skids: hes a gremlin who lives in the LL vents, and is buddies with swerve

Gateway - someone who tired to kill Roddy apparently, and the ship??? He's kinda cute but If I met him irl its on site :)

Overlord: a mf with some big ass lips and is butt hurt Megatron never paid any attention to him despite his efforts, he murder some important characters(idk who), he has some big ass lips and hes kinda handsome would totally sleep in his shoulder cones

Tarn: a Megatron stan, who is also the leader of the DJD, and has a sexy ass voice, and apparently is sexy enough to torture ppl with. He's cute I like his face

Kaon: the cybertronian equivalent to an electric eel, apparently his alt mode is a electric chair which is pretty rad ! when your not the victim at least, unless your into it

Vos; a fucking gremlin with a face that has a viraity of nail things. And he puts them on ppl👁👄👁, which is terrifying but hes cute so it kinda makes up for it??? Hes also has a sniper alt mode which makes my hunter heart go boom(snipers r my go too weapon in d2)

Helex; a walking furnace apparently. I think his tiny arms are pretty rad ! would hold if he didn't try to kill me

Tesarus - has some cool ass blades in the middle of his chest. Its fucking terrifying, and I feel bad for his victims. But he looks cool

Nickel: she's like the over protective friend in the group???? She would totally be the most terrifying to piss off

The Pet: apparently this guy in a turbo fox which i think is pretty rad. But what's not rad is that he used to be a person so that kinda sucks :/, would cuddle tho

Sunder : I like this mf, though he scares the absolute shit out of me when he does his mortis shit or whatever. But hes pretty cute! Would give a snuggle

Trepan: haven't seen much about him, but hes rlly cute, I like his frame and color pallet the most honestly. I feel bad since he got kidnapped by OL

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 10 months ago

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The scientific investigation here is into the nuance of the Thomas and Percy characters. Hence the poll only has two choices. Help me understand these two particular gremlins better.

But yes... there are other characters it could fit...:

Bill or Ben: … No actually. The whole joke relies on the ability to be Really Normal and keep a totally straight face for over an hour. This is slow-burn chaos. They lack the necessary chill to pull this off or to even want to.

Toby: Yeah, I can see it – except for the corny mustache joke. He does, however, fit very well for the anecdote in the postscript as to how OP got fired to begin with.

Mavis: A very good choice and I almost put her in the poll before I realized she’d run away with it. I don’t think she’s a perfect fit, though – I don’t think she can be that laid-back for over an hour. She’d be exuding just a bit too much smug/sassy energy to really hit the right vibe.

Donald or Douglas: Actually either of them (or both) would be pitch-perfect. Gold star. Best choices by far.

Diesel: … okay damn, this is just canon innit? But the story has an alternate ending where, instead of his ex-boss escorting him to his car, OP is taken into his office and they stare at each other impassively across the desk for a comically long time before Sir Topham Hatt just throws his hands in the air and says OKAY FINE YOU’RE RE-HIRED

Is OP of this famous twitter thread Thomas or Percy?

#ttte multiple characters #fun on the ffarquhar #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte diesel

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night-fallz · 4 years ago

Text

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

It was raining and it was just the perfect atmosphere for me to write in. I hope you guys like this chapter. And like I have previously stated in the previous chapters, any criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/28/21

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 3

Marinette was sitting on a bench waiting for XY to arrive. She was nervous. Their conversation last night would not leave her head.

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up.

He called me princess.

When Chat Noir called her that she just felt annoyed. But with XY, it only made her heart beat faster.

"Marinette!" she heard a familiar voice yell. Marinette turned around and noticed XY running up to her. When he finally reached her, he was out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you." He managed to say between gasps.

Marinette looked at him up and down with a bit of disgust. "What kind of disguise is this!" she yelled at him.

XY was wearing a sage-green crewneck that says 'NIKE' in the middle with baggy jeans and black converse. His outfit wasn't the worst. In fact, Marinette liked it. But what she didn't like were the accessories she chose. He was wearing an obnoxious cowboy hat with huge sunglasses that almost covered the upper part of his face. To make it worse, XY was also wearing an obnoxiously fake mustache.

XY winced at her reaction and meekly said, "A disguise?"

Marinette let out a huff. "I can not believe I am being seen next to you right now. The fashion gods must've cursed me or something."

XY let out a laugh and Marinette had a feeling that he was rolling his eyes at her. Of course, she couldn't be sure because of those hideous sunglasses. XY tugged her arm, "Come on." he smirked. "The faster we get to your house, the faster you won't be seen with a so-called fashion disaster like me."

Marinette scrunched her nose and started walking towards the bakery. "Hurry up." She exclaimed, letting out a small laugh. "I already know that you can't come up with a subtle disguise, but I hope that you aren't slow as well."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

XY was out of breath, yet again, when they arrived at the front door of the bakery. "You're fast." He let out a breath. “That wasn’t fair. I literally ran to the park so I could hang out with you, then you make me run even more.”

Marinette pulled the door open and winked at him. "I know." She gave her parents a quick hug and turned back to XY. "Do you want anything?"

XY looked at the baked goods and scrunched his eyebrows. "Can I have a croissant and a strawberry macaroon, please?"

He was about to reach for his wallet when Marinette quickly stopped him. "It's on the house." She said reassuringly. XY opened his mouth to protest and Marinette narrowed her eyes and gave him the items he wanted. "It's on the house," she repeated, this time glaring at him..

XY looked at Mrs. Dupain-Cheng for help but she only gave him a smile. "Don't argue with her, dear. She does this for all her friends. She won't take no for an answer."

"My mom's right." Marinette agreed. "Now come on” Marinette tugged his sleeve. “We have plans to make."

Before he could reply, Marinette led him upstairs to her bedroom.

"Woah," XY exclaimed in surprise.

Whatever he was expecting Marinette’s room to look like, it was not this.

"Why are you so sho-" Marinette stopped talking right when she turned so she could face her room and her face went bright red. She let out a scream of embarrassment. "I swear I thought I put all of this away! I can't believe I forg- UGH!" she let out a huff of frustration. "You think I'm creepy now, don't you." she said, her eyes on the ground.

XY gave her room another quick glance before facing her. She had Adrien Agreste's face everywhere. There were posters with Adrien's face all over her wall. The wallpaper on her desktop was Adrien. Her room was basically an Adrien Agreste shrine.

Yet, XY had seen worse. Seeing her room, it was obvious that she has a crush on Adrien Agreste. He held in a scoff. Of course, she does. He thought. Why would she ever like me anyways. I’m a nobody when compared to the so-called sunshine boy of Paris.

XY could feel Marinette's eyes staring at him. He's been silent for a while.

Marinette probably assumed that he hated her and thought she was a creep. "Nope," XY said, a bit louder than necessary. He winced before he added, "I don't think you're a creep." his voice a bit softer this time.

"Yes, you do," Marinette stated, her hands hiding her face. "You took way too long to respond."

"I was taking in the scenery."

"What scenery?" Marinette asked. Though, XY could hear a teasing tone behind it. "My embarrassed face or my even more embarrassing room." Marinette plopped down on her bed. "I thought I took down all the posters and got rid of his face on my desktop." She faced him and smiled sheepishly, "I guess I was so excited to meet up with you that I forgot to take all this-" she gestured around her room "off."

"If it helps," XY tried to say. "This really isn't that bad." When Marinette stared at him as if he grew a tail, he added. "Trust me, I've seen way worse."

And just like that, the tense and awkward atmosphere was gone.

It was silent for a few seconds when Marinette spoke. "Me and my friend Alya” Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “We were supposed to take down all my posters and burn them." It was XY's turn to stare at Marinette as she was the one who grew a tail, but Marinette didn’t notice it or she just ignored him. "I'm over him. I actually can't believe I ever liked him in the first place."

"What changed?"

Marinette waved the question off. "I'll tell you later. Now, let's start planning the photo shoot."

XY stared at her for a few seconds, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. "Okay.” He surrendered. “But you're telling me everything later."

"Maybe Marinette teased. "Now come on XY-"

"Xavier." he interrupted. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "Call me Xavier."

"Oh." Marinette looked at him with a cute smile on her face. "Well come on Xavier," she said his name in a teasing tone. "Let's get planning."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Planning her 'I'm back cause I didn't realize that I somehow have over 200,000 followers on insta' photoshoot took a lot faster than Marinette thought it would.

XY, no, Xavier was a natural at it. She guessed it was because he was used to this kind of thing.

Marinette looked at her pink notebook. It was where she wrote down all the plans they made and the suggestions he gave her. "Thank you so much for helping me!" she exclaimed in excitement. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Xavier took a bite out of his macaroon, "You're welcome. It wasn't that hard anyways, so it's all good."

Marinette studied him. Technically, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but same thing.

He took off that horrible disguise of his so she could actually see his face.

Like Marinette said before, Xavier was hot. He had a sharp jawline, which brought out his ocean blue eyes and his golden blonde hair was shining in the sun.

If Xavier ever asked Marinette who she believed his godly parent was, she would definitely say Apollo. Apollo was often described by Percy as hot. Someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. It also helps that Xavier was a musician.

Marinette let out a dreamy sigh before quickly widening her eyes. She tried to make it look like she wasn't staring at him but it was too late.

Xavier caught her. He gave her a smirk that practically made Marinette melt and raised an eyebrow. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Marinette wanted to take him up on that offer. Instead, she forced out a laugh and threw a pillow at him. "Wow. How original."

Xavier rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

Could this guy get any hotter?

"So." Xavier said.

"So?" Marinette replied with confusion.

"What's up with you burning down all the pictures of-" he gestured at her posters.

"Oh," Marinette couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. "That."

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft.

Marinette looked at him in surprise.

Should she lie?

Marinette couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. He asked her that question with such sincerity. As if he actually wanted to know if she was okay

Instead, Marinette scoffs. "Did you know that you’re the second person who ever asked me that question?"

He didn’t reply.

Stupid. Marinette scolded herself. Why did she say that to him? Now he was going to hate her and think she’s just looking for attention.

Marinette stiffened. Xavier’s arms were around her.

He was giving her a hug.

Usually, Marinette would be freaking out about someone like him hugging her.

But right now, all she could do was hug him tighter and finally let go of all the tears that she's been holding in.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Note: I suck at writing sad scenes. So don't end up being surprised if my attempted angsty chapters end up being cringy.

Also, how do you guys want me to address XY? Do you want me to keep addressing him as XY or Xavier outside of Marinette's dialogue? I tried to address him with his actual name, Xavier, in this chapter. But I don't really know if I like it or not, so please give me your feedback on that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

previous II next

1,528 words.

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6 @ladiiwhisper @thezestywalru @mica-aa @runestarchild @theymakeupfairies @para-dox-normal @futursworld

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cabinofimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Also (sorry I drag on for so long) A Percy ×, Reader /I adore Persassy/ reads the entire Harry Potter series to Percy. Just pure fluff Please and Thank you

A Long ass summer

Oh! A group effort has arisen!

Pairing: Percy Jackson x reader Word count: 670 word Warnings: Harry potter spoilers

-The admins (This is Satire, we are sorry but we are not writing it for we couldn't get into the vibes of it and we aren't sure how old this request is but u r a great person so sincere apologies, april fools)

On the first day of Summer, You sat down with your boyfriend, Persassy Jackson. You cleared your throat and started reading;

"CHAPTER ONE THE BOY WHO LIVED M r. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our-

-his own. Alone of Harry's three children, Albus had inherited Lily's eyes. "Ablus Severus," Harry said quietly, so that nobody but Ginny could hear, and she was tactful enough to pretend to be waving to rose, who was now on the train, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew." "But just say--" "--then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matter to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account." "Really?" "It did for me," said Harry. He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus's face when he said it. But how the doorsr were slamming all along the scarlet train, and the blurred outlines of parents swarming forward for final kisses, last-minute reminders, Albus jumped into the carriage and ginny closed the door behind him. Students were hanging from the windows nearest them. A great number of faces, both on the train and off, seemed to be turned toward Harry. "Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and rose craned around to look at the other students. "Don't let it worry you," said Ron. "It's me, I'm extremely famous." Albus, Rose, Hugo, and Lily laughed. The train began to more, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son's thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him. . . . The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry's hand was still raised in farewell. "He'll be alright," murmured Ginny. As Harry looked dat her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead. Page 520 of 520 Get free e-books and video tutorials at www.passuneb.com "I know he will." The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well."

all of summer hast past, Percy hath left you for Annabeth, all is bad and well.

We are sorry not sorry

-The admins

#satire #percy x reader #requests #pjo #xreader #insert #april fools

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yaboy-robin · 3 years ago

Note

what characters of yours can grow a beard? (sorry for the random ask Gender Wants are making me think of beards so I'm asking a bunch of people about beards)

No problem! You're in luck, I was actually just considering this. Here is a list of characters of mine that can grow a beard- and their shaving habits;

Covah: Generally does not let his beard get past a short stubble. It's very slow-growing and does not even get to stubble until after about a week. It grows weird around his scar, and he doesn't like the feel of it against his skin. So, he shaves. It would be rather fluffy if he let it grow, however! Like a soft cat.

Dottingale: It does not develop into a full beard- just some sideburns that grow down the whole side of their face. It does not meet at their chin. Dot shaves, currently, daily. Their cartoon biology causes it to grow back in full the next morning. They don't like the looks they get. The judgmental thoughts of the populace at a "feminine" person growing a beard. It makes them self-conscious. However, when they are an adult, they stop shaving their sideburns (and stop filing down their horns every morning!). The sideburns themselves feel weirdly fake, like plush fur. However, that is normal for a cartoon like Dottingale.

Helvetica: His beard only ever really grows to a dusty stubble. His position and power means he doesn't need to shave- he can just think the beard away. However, sometimes he just needs to focus his thoughts elsewhere. And, a tired stubble is upon his face. He doesn't necessarily mind having or not having it- but feels better being more "professional-looking" without the stubble. His beard is very pointy- like little knives.

Hitchcock: The only character I ever draw with an actual beard! He lets his beard do whatever it wants- It's shorter on the sides and meets into a longer "goatee" at his chin. It does not meet above his lips for a mustache. The beard itself is a little coarser than it probably should be; he doesn't care for it properly.

Percy: When he's an adult and finally on T- He likes having a nice stubble! However, it doesn't ever really get past stubble. Unfortunately, he got his mom's genes in the beard department and not his biological father's. It doesn't grow well. Percy's care routine involves balms to keep his stubble nice a soft.

And as for ocs who want a beard but can't grow one for various reasons:

Cyraeni: Mermaid biology keeps them from growing one. But it would be cool to match Dot!

Gwendolyn: Look, he wants to complete the washed-up bum look he's got goin. Might as well, right? But, he just can't. No amount of supplements or wishing will make it happen.

Zipper: Okay, look, she gets she's entirely furry. But a huge ass pirate beard would be SO COOL. Arg! Peg legs and swashbuckling!

#ocs #not art

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siren1song · 5 years ago

Text

Sugarcoated

Summary: Patton is short, but he doesn't really mind it. And honestly? He minds it even less when he finds out the cute new employee can pick him up easy-peasy.

Warnings: Mentions of making out

Pairing: Intruality

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @izzynuggets, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @demidork84, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @kiribakuandcats, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana

Taglist for This: @jessibbb, @sanderssides-angst, @yalltookmyurlideas

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

Notes: Tiny Patton and Remus picking him up. Tiny Patton and Remus picking him up.

Patton… was short. This wasn’t new to him, of course, but sometimes it could really be a pain in the tush. Being five foot one and working in a candy shop meant that sometimes he couldn’t reach the high shelves where all the individually wrapped hard candies were so young’uns couldn’t hurt themselves.

Which was what he was struggling to deal with right now, standing on his tip toes to refill one of the containers (he hadn’t been able to make Ivan and Steve stop flirting long enough to grab the step stool) and hoping he didn’t drop anything and waste stock.

He didn’t mind being short, but gosh being taller would be real nice right now.

Suddenly there was a hand guiding the bag of butterscotch away from the container Patton was trying to fill, and before he could protest, he was yelping because there was hands grabbing his waist and picking him up. Looking down with a flushed red face, trying not to wiggle too much when he was settled onto a shoulder, Patton saw the newest employee grinning up at him.

“Noticed you needed some help, hope this is okay?” Remus asked, patting Patton’s calf with the hand he had around his legs to help keep him balanced.

Oh goodness, he is strong being able to pick him up with as chubby as he was.

“Ah- Well I mean, in the future maybe ask before you pick me up? But uh… yeah this is a big help, thanks!” he said, unable to fight back his flustered giggle.

Remus’ grin grew wider, and Patton forced himself to focus on restocking the butterscotch instead of the swoop of butterflies in his belly at just how attractive that grin was.

Honestly, Patton hadn’t been expecting for there to be another instance where he was picked up. He’d moved the step stool to a new spot since Ivan and Steve kept flirting in that one, and nothing was too high for him to restock or clean with that thing.

He supposed physically picking him up and moving him away from the counter was one way to keep him from yelling at an entitled mother who thought her custom box of chocolates for her daughter wasn’t supposed to be as expensive as it was.

It was… also a way to distract him from his anger by making him remember just how gay he was for Remus. Which was a little bit of an issue considering Patton may be manager, but Logan was store owner and if de caught Remus saying what he was to the now scandalized mother, de would fire both of them. Remus for saying it and Patton for allowing it.

“Ah, Remus, please step back,” he said softly, grabbing his arm and catching Steve’s attention, nodding him in the direction of the woman.

Times like these, Patton was so grateful that Steve was so good at customer service.

Remus stepped back, following Patton when he gestured for him to do so.

They stepped into a supply closet, Patton not expecting to hear the click of the door closing behind them but forcing himself to not think about that right now because he needed to be professional and he couldn’t think about kissing someone who worked under him.

“I really appreciate you pulling me back out there,” he started, turning to face Remus before looking up for the light string, “but you can’t- dang it, I can’t reach that.”

Remus, without saying anything and wearing an amused grin, reached forward and pulled once on the chain.

Patton refused to acknowledge the showcasing of height made his face more red because he did not want to think about his attraction to Remus right now.

“Uh… thank you. Anyway, you can’t talk to customers like that, whether they’re rude or not-”

“You looked pretty close to ripping her head off yourself,” Remus commented, his grin growing when Patton spluttered a little in response.

“Yeah, well I just…” Patton sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips a little in a small pout, “she was calling Lo mean things, and deir my friend not just my boss.”

Remus nodded, making a vague sound of agreement that had Patton looking back up at him to see-

Oh. Oh. He is definitely watching his mouth, oh goodness.

“Yeah I heard, I’ve got ears. And eyes.”

“Uh… what does… your vision have to do with anything?” Patton asked, taking a step back and forcing back a squeak when his back met the wall.

Maybe a closet wasn’t the best decision to have a private conversation.

“Nothing important. Just noticing the cute manager and how flustered he gets around me. Say, question,” Remus said, interrupting Patton before he could even respond to the flirt.

“Oh, uh, answer,” he responded, his mind a little scrambled because Remus had just taken two steps closer and now there was barely two feet between them.

“What’s the policy on dating here?” he asked, taking one more step forward.

If Patton’s face wasn’t red before, it sure as heck was now.

“It’s um. It’s frowned upon.”

“Cool, I quit then,” Remus said and then he was tilting Patton’s face upwards just a bit more so he could place a kiss on his lips.

And well… if he quit, then Patton was going to let himself enjoy this.

“Patton,” Logan started, arms crossed over deir chest as de looked over deir glasses at Patton.

“Logan,” Patton responded, struggling not to giggle as he cupped his hand over the two hickeys on his neck, his other hand supporting his elbow as he stood in Logan’s office.

Percy, the one person in the candy shop who was fed up with all the flirting, had ended up walking in on him and Remus while they were kissing and had ratted Patton out to Logan.

Well… kissing was a light word for it, but Patton couldn’t find it in himself to care at this exact moment.

Logan sighed, rubbing deir temple while Patton finally let out the giggles he’d been struggling to hold back the last twenty minutes.

“I hope you know I’m going to have to put you on unpaid leave, Pat,” de said, giving Patton a tired look that turned Patton’s grin into a sheepish smile.

“I know now? How long?” he asked, tapping his fingers against his elbow and shifting his feet.

He kind of wanted to leave already. Remus was waiting for him in the employee parking lot.

“A week. Please don’t make out in the shop again, and especially not on the clock,” Logan said, giving Patton a pointed look that had him giggling again.

“Yep! Lesson learned! See you tomorrow!” he said, starting to back out of the room.

Logan frowned in confusion.

“Why tomorrow? Isn’t it your night to make dinner?”

Patton gave Logan a cheeky grin.

“You can cook, can’t you?”

And then he was out the door. Sure, that may not be the nicest way to go about things, and he would definitely be apologizing to dem later for flaking out on his night to cook, but he really wanted to spend some more time with Remus, and he’d promised him a fun time.

With how the twenty minutes in the supply closet went, Patton was honestly inclined to believe that.

When Patton stepped out of the building, Remus stood up from where he was leaning on his truck and waved him over with a grin.

“Hey sunshine, didn’t get fired did you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Patton once he was within a reasonable talking distance.

“No, but I’m on unpaid leave for a week.”

Remus blew a raspberry, making Patton giggle.

“Well shit. Bright side though, that means a little more time for us, huh sweetheart?” Remus asked, pulling the passenger door open.

Patton giggled and took a step forward to climb in.

Before he could, Remus had his hands on Patton’s waist and lifted him into the truck. Patton was going to protest, but Remus already his lips on his.

“I’d say that makes the leave worth it,” he said, words a little breathless, when Remus pulled away.

Remus chuckled, pecking his cheek and making him giggle when his mustache tickled his skin.

“Gotta agree there, butterscotch.”

#casper writes #ts patton #ts remus #ts logan #intruality #platonic logicality #making out #nonbinary logan #logan uses de/dem/deirs pronouns #ahhhh this was!! so cute #i loved writing it so much #there was so much formatting for this oh my God #i stg if i forgot smth i Will cry

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danakin-skywalker · 3 years ago

Note

ho ho ho fucker !!!

my greeting was in-fact ripped from the great chip bunker himself AND i hope that youve had a great saturday, december 11th (im sorry i know that greeting was aggressive!!)

to start - im really glad that im able to be santa for you!! i love how in-depth you are with every answer and i love reading it all and getting to know you - its a highlight to my mornings now!!

also, theres no such thing as carried away for me! as a fellow (but more recently medicated) person with adhd, i completely understand it all <3

i cant say that we line up on many tv shows, but i dont watch many to begin with... as for movies tho, i love your picks! fun fact ive just recently watched forest gump for the first time this year😳 its embarrassing as a movie lover. AND i dressed up with a friends as pedro (they were napoleon) for halloween in the fourth grade... i got to wear a wig, their brother clothes, and a eyeliner-pencil mustache and silently hold my “vote for pedro” sign. it was truly my peak as a person. midsommar SHOCKED me to my core but i loved it so so much. horror/thriller movies like that really are the cats pajamas

for other hyperfixations... i LOVE!!! i really love the attempt at reading twilight that young 😂 even with an older sibling i had no clue what that was until sixth grade. i 100% relate to the discovery of fanfic really fueling the fire... i wasnt a quizzilla person but i was totally in love with quotev (another quiz/fanfic site if you arent familiar). percy jackson was HUGE for me all throughout middle school and honestly still is - rick riordans world building is truly phenomenal. (gotta say it tho: leo stans rise UP😤)

TODAY lets get into some fun ??? shall we...

if you could choose to live in any fictional universe, which would it be? why?

in this universe, what would your ideal life look like? with danny of course!😉

BONUS: when you answered my question about why you loved danny, you mentioned you loved cats the most. do you have a cat? any pets? if not, do you want any?

remember santa loves u !! and hopes you have not fall victim to any of the “greta van feet” content ive seen on my dash today!

🎅🏼

#26

Good morning santa!! It’s so nice to know you enjoy reading what I wrote in the mornings, I’m glad I can help start your day! It’s funny you mention your feed yesterday because I actually wasn’t on tumblr for most of yesterday- my mom is in town and I spent all day yesterday (and will continue to do so today) helping her and her two work friends navigate Manhattan. It’s super fun, of course, but my mom can be a lot and also I checked my health app when I got home yesterday and I had walked nine miles.

Anyway

I absolutely am familiar with quotev!! That’s where I used to get all my good Teen Wolf fics back in the day (I forgot to mention that in my hyperfixations list- that was a big one too). Also I’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of a fourth grader dressed up as Pedro for Halloween.

Now this is gonna sound funny, but this is one of the first things I thought of when I read your first question and the more I kept thinking about it the more it sounded like super ideal. Okay so if I could live in any fictional universe, I’d wanna live in Pixie Hollow from the Tinker Bell movies. They always look like they’re having a great time just whizzing around doing and making stuff and everything’s so simple and there’s no capitalism I feel like it would just be a really happy life. I feel like I would probably be either a Water fairy or a Winter fairy. After writing this out I feel like this isn’t the direction you were anticipating me taking but oh well santa I live to keep you on your toes. I hope you’re familiar with this fictional universe and I don’t sound crazy lol

Oh wow I did not consider the second question when answering the first. Okay. Danny would be aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuummmmmmm tinker fairy. The cute one who I go to for tools and other work instruments(?) that I break on purpose so that I have more excuses to go see him and have him fix them for me. He’s good with his hands so I feel like it’d fit for him. He’d still have his long hair but it’d be pretty constantly braided back while he’s working, maybe it’d be down when we met at night after the day’s work is done. See this seems like such a simple happy life why aren’t I a small nature fairy whose only responsibility is to create dewdrops what the fuck.

So finally, I am devastated to report that I do not have any pets at the moment. When I was in college I swore to myself that as soon as I was able I would adopt a cat, but my apartment is just so small I feel like a cat (and it’s litterbox) would really overwhelm the space. And a cat is a big responsibility (both financially and just in everyday life) that I’m not sure I’m ready for just yet. THAT BEING SAID, my mom has an absolutely lovely tuxedo cat named Hamilton that she adopted last year from a cat cafe in my college town on a visit. I love him dearly even though the love is pretty one-sided, but he puts up with me whenever I’m home visiting and that’s all I can ask for.

I love u dearly secret santa and I hope you’re having a good weekend. I appreciated your chip bunker reference also

#secret santa #26

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seancekitsch · 5 years ago

Text

Prize Buck

I’m out of my hiatus. I was asked for Klaus Headcanons, wrote a smut fic after work today instead whoops

A/N: drug use, addiction, oral(m/f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap that shit folx), female or nb afab reader, thinking sad thoughts while doing sexy things, sorta sub!Klaus, mental health issues, roughness, unedited, i added a line that only makes sense if you read the comics

———————————————

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done this? You?” Klaus asks, bringing the bowl and the lighter closer to you. You hadn’t, in honesty. You were the worlds most casual of casual stoners. You’d roll a joint if the mood struck you; meticulously crafted and thin for the perfect little heady time. Or you’d take a hit from a bong at a friends house, only if they offered to smoke you out. Really though, weed wasn’t your thing, it just had to become a part of the routine now because there weren’t other options. You couldn’t get your normal poison, amphetamines, so feeling uncontrollably sluggish instead of uncontrollably wired was the new normal.

A non-committal head shake was all you could offer. He was right to be incredulous at that revelation. You had met in rehab, for god’s sake. Klaus had, no HAS, a lot of problems, some you watched him scream and sweat through during his first week in the room across the hall from you. You were the one that he woke up constantly, because your crash left you near coma and crying when you were conscious. Despite making your recovery hell, he was the only one you could talk to when the tears subsided. Before rehab, you were a a published scholar at the height of your career, working with a newly discovered artifact from an anthropology dig. You’d spent your career hopped up on all of the meds you could find, culminating this research, staying up for thirteen days before having a breakdown in which you break the artifact from shaking so hard and crash your car fleeing the research center with your writing.

Weed was new. It was never your thing. But Klaus was new too, and he was your thing. You’d become fast friends in group therapy sessions, and inseparable out of them. It was unorthodox and frowned upon, but you became roommates once you’d gotten out. Just a small studio above a shop. A couch and a mattress that you’d switch off sleeping on, or you’d just both crash on the flood a hairs breadth away from snuggling. But it was the option that worked. You’d both confided that true sobriety wasn’t an option. So instead of anything hard, it was weed and alcohol. This was something that wouldn’t kill you or get you sent back. Controllable. And maybe one day you’d be able to go into a different field. Get an apartment with an actual bedroom. Maybe he could be able to shut out some of his power. But for now, this is what would work. It was a transition that made sense to you.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never shotgunned a bowl. Don’t all the great writers have their little parties where they smoke each other out? Isn’t that how Mary and Percy had that orgy with Lord Byron?” You wanted to correct him that you were a disgraced anthropologist, not a writer, but his warm thigh nudging yours reminds you now isn’t really the time. You give a weak smile instead.

“I guess since you’re the only person I smoke with, you’d be the only person to shotgun me.” He scooches closer to you, earthy scent already working wonders to entrance you. You wonder if he knew he had this effect on your mind and body.

“So you’ll let me shoot you now?” He asks. You smile, a little anxious, a little toothy.

“Shoot me? What am I, a ten point buck?”

There’s going to be a great feat of self control to keep yourself from jumping the curly haired man next to you, and self control is not one of your strong suits. You were head over heels in lust with Klaus and you didn’t even know if he was into women.

He begins with an unceremonious prodding at the fresh ground bud in the glass bowl with his pinky. Then he flicks the gas station lighter once. Twice. A spark. The flame dips into the bowl and there’s a soft crackle that’s accompanied and fueled by Klaus’ plump lips wrapping around the head of the pipe. It’s almost obscene to look at and you find yourself shifting uncomfortably. Well, not uncomfortably, but not in a way that’s appropriate for this setting. There’s probably more than a slight chance Klaus knows you’re aroused, but he’s being polite about it. Even now, as his lungs are filling up with smoke, and he’s puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk, there’s this ebbing and throbbing between your legs.

And now, for the shotgun itself. You know he’s blowing all the smoke in his body into your mouth, but the last thing you expect is how it feels to actually have his lips on yours. At first he’s methodical, a slow diaphragm push of smoke into your mouth, your lips parted slightly and drinking in the smoke as it comes. But no, that’s not enough; not giving Klaus enough access to deliver the goods. He makes quick work of parting your lips further by a harsh squeeze to your jaw. The way the smoke and his tongue invade your mouth does nothing to help curb the lack of self control you possess as you moan wantonly into the kiss. The shotgun. You could be addicted to this alone.

By the time he pulls away, you feel like a balloon in that you’re floating, and the hand you have securely placed on your roommates thigh is the only thing keeping you from floating out the window and into some electrical wires or into a tree for birds to choke to death on. You start low, reddened eyes looking from your hand on his thigh, up to his chest. Klaus’ chest is almost always bare. His arms and the muscles of his abdomen were littered with the odd scar and tattoo here and there. He told you they’re from fighting in Vietnam in the 1960s and France in the 1400s. When he said it, he was so earnest you could do nothing but believe him. Then your eyes travel a little more north, to his lips. He needs a shave; his mustache and his chin getting a bit too scraggly, but they tickled when you came together for the smoke. And then you finally meet his eyes, unabashed that you just drank him in like lemonade. His pupils are blown wide when you finally look into them; not something weed would do to you. No, this was something else.

“Another?” He asks, voice trembling and breathy, not above a whisper.

“I- I want more.” Your voice coming out a tad huskier than you intended, not masking how his actions had an effect on you. Your skirt feels entirely too open right now. If you were wearing jeans, or tight pants like his, you’d feel some kind of restraint. Like a chastity belt, you think, some real medieval torture. But it would be all too easy to lift this skirt, or even to shift your hips and grind against something for even a tiny iota of relief.

You don’t even watch Klaus take the hit this time, only turning your head back to face him when you hear him stop sucking. This time, he sets the bowl down before leaning in. Your mouth is open and ready for him, already a quick learner from what just transpired. So Klaus doesn’t grab your jaw this time. Instead, he grabs the hand that’s still resting on his thigh.

And he shoves it towards the crotch of his pants.

Where your open palm lands clumsy and hard against the hardness straining at his pants.

He groans as contact is made and almost coughs the rest of the smoke into your mouth, but you’re there to suck it down in stride. There’s only a quick pause for you to exhale this now twice filtered smoke before your lips re-attach to his, the bowl and lighter now forgotten.

His hand drifts to your jaw a second time, before sliding down further to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, until it strains your back. He knows you fell asleep on the couch last night, so he knows how much this burns your taught muscles. All to his advantage it seems, as you shift your weight to your knee before turning and straddling him, all without breaking the kiss or your removing your hand from his clothed cock. Your skirt pools at where both of your hips meet, and he readjusts it -ever the gentleman- for you as you begin to knead and squeeze him beneath your hand.

Instead of smoke now, your mouths fill with the moans and sighs of each other, both refusing to end the kissing first and both running out of air. The onslaught of kissing continues through some under the shirt fondling, through Klaus less than gently pinching at your nipples, through you unbuttoning Klaus’ pants- now much too tight. He only breaks the kiss finally to beckon you,

“Stand up, I’ve got something else I want to show you”

Wobbly, you give his clothed cock one more squeeze before you rise to your feet.

While you move to reposition, standing over him now with your skirt bunched in one hand and your panties in another, he shimmies his pants down to his knees. All of your wondering if he was into more than just men is silenced when his tongue makes first contact with your clit. He takes the time to swirl his tongue tantalizingly slow, then quickly flicking his tongue upward, making your knees buckle until they land at the back of the couch just above his shoulders. You lean into it as he writes letters to you with his tongue, teasing the entrance to your cunt with his fingers and gathering the wetness until his fingers are slick.

You’re about to beg for it, cry for his fingers to penetrate you, but you don’t have to because he plunges in to the hilt. There is no easing into it, he thrusts his middle and ring finger at a break neck speed. Your skin feels white hot and the only purchase you can find is in squeezing the fabric balled in your palms and Klaus skewers you and torches every one of your nerve endings with his hot mouth and fingers.

Your high is coming to a head, literally and figuratively, when Klaus retracts all attention. You whine, pouting and pitiful, when he says something that surprises you:

“You’re gonna cum, right? Order me. Order me to make you cum. I’ll obey.”

So you do.

“Fuck— Klaus. Fuck! Make me cum. Make me cum on your face.”

When he returns to your cunt he’s unmerciful, working you back up to and through your high before you can even realize it’s happening. You barely savor it before you’re convulsing, sinking your knees further until they rest on his shoulders and he has to grab you by the ass to hold you up. You hadn’t been touched like this since before you had met Klaus, and you wanted more. Insatiable and prone, you make your next move untangling yourself from his grasp.

Sinking down, you feel the old wood creak beneath your stiff knees. This would hurt like a bitch, but when Klaus smiles down at you with his face covered in the wetness of your orgasm, you can’t find a reason to care. His smile is genuine, wide and splitting, the same look he gives you when you come home with pizza. Well, this was about to be better than pizza. The tip of your tongue touches the head of his cock first, a tiny testing lick earning a full body shudder from the man in front of you.

“Please don’t tease. Do a guy a favor. Please baby?”

You’re a sucker for his pleading, and just as he didn’t give you time to adjust, you don’t give him any warning before you sink your entire mouth down on him, only stopping to hollow out your cheeks when his tip hits the back of your throat. You hold it there for a moment, and then only gag as your lungs run out of oxygen. Klaus could be a substitute for oxygen, you’d gladly rather take him in than anything you would have tried before.

He whines, you notice. High pitched and needy. He would probably do anything I asked right now to cum, you think, but you quickly dismiss the thought. In a way you’re glad it’s you sucking his soul out through his cock and no one else, because he’s putting so much of himself into this. You wonder if he’s been taken advantage before. You hope not.

You banish the thought by moaning around the head of his cock. You revel in his reaction, to bury both of his hands in your hair as he all but sobs out “oh god please keep doing that” or something like that, you can’t really tell for sure over the rush his touch sends straight back down to your core.

As much as you want to worship his cock, your own tears from gagging on it start to sting your eyes. So you pull off him, just long enough to ask,

“Do you want me to finish you like this? Or another way?” Pausing to kiss the underside of his cock before adding, “You can have any part of me you want”

It’s like a flip switches, and he’s pulling you back up, pulling your skirt down and off of you in fluid motion, before you take your spot straddling him again. Impatient, he pushes you down onto him, thrusting away immediately finding a groove.

“Oh I’m gonna make you cum— gonna be real good for you. M-make you feel real good.” He’s a stuttering, groaning mess as he thrusts up into you.

“You feel amazing inside me. You’re doing so good, Klaus. Making me feel amazing,” you coo, doing everything to praise and encourage him. “I’m gonna cum, can you feel that? It’s all for you, do you want that— OH”

The thought caught mid air stopped short by a particularly accurate thrust right into a spot that makes you scream, your second orgasm of the afternoon now much closer than it had been. You feel your muscles clench as you bear down on him, trying to make Klaus hit that spot over and over. By the way his rhythm is almost non existent, you can tell he’s almost there too.

Something crosses your mind, and before you fully process the thought, one of your hands is wrapping around his throat, fingers and thumb squeezing deftly so that you don’t close the airway, but that he sees stars. That does it.

Klaus cumming is almost more beautiful than it feels. His cock twitches and paints your insides, and you cum from the sensation as well, but the blissed-out fucked-out face smiling up at you is to see heaven itself. His eyeliner is streaked with tears, his lips swollen and bruised, a smile splitting his face in two.

You move to get up, maybe clean yourself up, but at least put your panties back on. Klaus stops you though with his hands gently but firmly on your hips, holding you in place.

“Just stay. For a bit. I’m not one of those dames you can deflower and avoid their calling cards.”

A snort of laughter. A joke covering real insecurity; you can see right through it.

“Klaus, you were deflowered long before I ever got here, but I’m not gonna go anywhere. You shot me, I’m your prize buck.”

#my work #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves smut #smut #tw drugs #addiction tw #drugs cw #prize buck series

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