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aggro-my-beloved · 2 months ago

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Long In The Tooth (LaskoxDear)

note: happy soulmate september! my heart’s probably still beating out of my chest with excitement when you’re reading this. brb, i’m off to listen to the milo panic attack audio but interact with this if you wanna (pretty pls) summary: *aging stops at 18 until you meet your soulmate* [lasko’s been eighteen for six years now, and frankly, he’s becoming sick of playing a juvenile. what makes his endeavor for a soulmate even more bewildering? they’re one of his students.] pairing(s): LaskoxDear (romantic), GavinxFreelancer (romantic), LaskoxDamien (non-platonic?) warning(s): none word count: 3k estimated reading time: 12 mins

taglist: @ther3alsweetheart @darlin-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @elles-roses

“SO BE LOOKING FOR AN EMAIL FROM ME f-for your class schedule. Again, I'm sorry about not having a…physical copy on hand.” Lasko combs a clammy hand through his disheveled hair, sparing a discreet glance at his leather satchel lying by his feet. It defends an entire ream of charred papers, originally for the pool of students that Lasko has been bestowed the responsibility of meeting today, but instead, it mocks him. “My printer ran out of ink.”

His run-in with the stubborn fire elemental without patience for one's troubleshooting of his agenda went worse than the guidance counselor envisioned—a surprise to Lasko, who always depicts the worst scenarios before plunging head-first into any social situation. Guess what Freelancer said was true: you think better on your feet than in the air, he reflects.

“No worries. It’d be my luck,” The student laughs awkwardly, silently inviting Lasko to muster one of his own.

“Well, before I send you off, do you have my questions for me?” His hands press onto the thick desktop glass, shielding the wood. One spilled cup of coffee too many, and a sputtering request to the Dean was all it took to gain that.

“I do have one.” Lasko’s heart begins thumping uncontrollably, and he thanks every deity above that the water elemental is also not an experienced telepath. What will they ask me? Maybe they want to pick my brain about the theory of shade resurgence. How much research have they done on me as an alumnus? Perhaps they find me unfit to be a counselor and a professor, being human-reared. They don't think I have the history, nor the fundamental teachings from my unempowered parents. Oh, who are you kidding Lasko? They’re probably wanting to know which food from the cafeteria won’t give someone massive—

“You look a little young to be a counselor, don’t you?” As if intrigued by their curiosity, the student creeps forward in the armchair sat opposite Lasko’s, and finds respite for their folded arms on the mahogany desk between them. Before Lasko’s lips could part, the pupil emits a gasp at their presumption. “I’m so sorry, please take that as a compliment. Your soulmate must be lucky to have someone with such a…youthful glow.” The excruciating cringe on their face is palpable (and noticeably lacking age lines), but Lasko revels in the sight of it. For once, he is not the one digging a grave mid-conversation.

He could only muster a chuckle, eyes settling on his chewed-down fingernails and fidgeting knuckles—the only visible skin on his body that had wrinkles. This presumption is one he’s been unwillingly catering to for his past six years under the university, and his answer, like his relationship status, is unchanging.

He offers a modest shrug. “Y-yeah, counselor, and professor. B-but you…you’re not wrong. I only look this young because I haven’t met mine yet—soulmate, I mean.” The pinch on the bridge of his nose from his glasses feels abnormally tight as he gauges the student’s reaction. A curious raise of the brow, slow nod—awed. And rightfully so, with how capable and convenient the modern age has made it to scout for one’s “better half.” Apps and chat rooms galore in addition to personal soulmate seekers (a bunch of glorified PIs with hopeless romantic tendencies, as Lasko refers to them) for hire. These things leave a person little reason to go more than a year after eighteen with no celebrated crow'sfeet or growing pains. People think he’s inept or simply non-committal. Lasko considers himself stodgy for yearning to encounter his soulmate organically.

“Well, if it’s any reassurance, you aren’t the only one.” They don’t elaborate, and Lasko doesn’t pry. He remains seated, silently watching them wrangle each strap of their backpack over their shoulders. “Thank you again for the chat, Mr. Moore.”

“Ah, just Lasko is fine. I’m not near old enough for all that 'mister' stuff.” At least, I don’t look like it, he tacks on mentally.

“Right. I guess I’ll see you around then.”

He clarifies, “Monday at ten,” which earns him a tilted head. “For DAMN 101, which should be on the schedule that I'llemail you.” A small, upward twitch of their lips leaves Lasko satisfied with the conversation but prepared for the tens of other students who will receive the same news.

“I can’t wait.”

He hopes for his sake that the rest are as understanding as this one.

“Well well, professor, how was orientation today?” Had the man still not reeked of liquid smoke and sweat from his earlier encounter with the fire elemental, or suffered from cramping fingers and aching wrists from the barrage of emails he sent out today, Lasko’s answer may not have been so curt.

A trace of a scowl lingered in his voice, “Not in the mood, Gav.” At the evil hiss of his name, the demon transferred his gaze from the television to the strung-out university employee entering the den. Lasko makes a show of shrugging off his blazer and settling his fatigued body into the armchair perpendicular to the sectional Gavin and his soulmate were occupying. His roommate proceeds to turn his attention to him, chorting sarcastically, “Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?” Freelancer takes the opportunity to bury their face in the bared crook of Gavin’s neck, releasing a languid sigh of contentment.

Lasko strives to obscure his frown, but the envy boiling in the depths of his stomach wins while the muscles of his jaw tighten. “Some fire elemental with serious anger issues almost sent me up in flames with my office, destroyed all of my paperwork, and cost me two and a half hours of emailing students their schedules and trying not to sound passive-aggressive. Do you realize how hard it is to type ‘Please see attached for your semester schedule. Thank you.’ without sounding like the biggest assho–”

Amidst his rant, Freelancer’s head pops up from the den between Gavin’s neck and collarbone. “You met Damien?”

The question Lasko volleys is an answer in itself. “You know him?” Wide eyes with a visible twitch urge Freelancer to dig through the sofa cushions for their phone.

“Yeah, he texted me earlier. A whole string of back-to-back messages about some university nobody screwing him over with his schedule. I didn’t think anything of it until…” They purse their lips. Lasko watches his friends’ eyes soaking in his appearance–blackened shirt cuffs, tousled tendrils of hair, and all. Should Lasko be expecting some vengeful threat? A stolen personal belonging replaced with a ransom note? A dead sprite in a wrapped box outside his office door?

“How mad was he?” He scrubs his hands against his face, hoping to wipe the day away with his sour expression.

“I wouldn’t check your Rate My Professor anytime soon.” Lasko throws his head back in defeat. Tarnishing his paperwork and his reputation in a single day? The ransom note wasn’t looking as unfavorable in comparison.

“I thought it’d be water that didn’t get along with fire,” Gavin muses with a smirk. Lasko’s mind trails away from the soot-stained carpet of his office to the friendly water elemental he had the pleasure of speaking with earlier. Their curious nature and self-loathing sense of humor is something Lasko would have never considered himself attracted to, seeing as Gavin’s unyielding confidence and inflated ego always put his stomach through a spin cycle.

A sharp inhale from Freelancer resounds through the house. “Oh my goodness, Lasko!” Instantly, he was patting down his body, checking his pulse, and looking around for the nearest mirror. He already knew he looked like shit, what was the big deal?

“What, what is it?” Still, he turned his head every which way expecting a large bug or “kick me” sign on his back from Damien—perhaps the earlier onslaught of flames was merely a distraction. Or, the man’s just paranoid, per usual.

“You have smile lines!” As if imitating a mirror, Freelancer offers a ballooning grin of their own, presenting the faint creases surrounding their lips to him. “You thought you could meet your soulmate and just not tell us?” They motion excitedly between themselves and Gavin, who was absorbing the scene before him.

“I-I didn’t though, did I?” Did he? He thinks back to all of the students he spoke with earlier in the day, Damien included. A shiver courses down his spine at the thought—he’s always heard the saying ‘opposites attract’ but having a soulmate who wanted to momentarily kill him seems like a stretch. Having a soulmate be one of the many bodies in his class is equally as horrific, but—as he now recognizes—a possibility. “Holy shit, I-I met my soulmate.”

Gavin inquires after a few seconds, “Who are they?”

Lasko's head darts up, donning a veil of “oh fuck” on his visage. “I have no idea.”

Much to Gavin’s chagrin and Freelancer’s enthusiasm, the couple agreed to aid him in compiling a list of the students he’d met in the last twenty-four hours, and omitting the ones who’ve been blessed to find their other half, according to Freelancer’s in-depth “research” when inputting their names online.

“Sami Tryst is in my Thursday lab! They’ve got an engagement ring, though.”

“Hudson Lang won a medal in the E&E games last year. He thanked his partner in his acceptance speech.”

“Jacquelyn Gardner?” Freelancer snorts with a shaking head. “Definitely not your type.”

Lasko’s head hinges up from the sheet of paper he was eyeing—scrawled with names, and taken straight out of Freelancer’s DAMN 101 notebook. With furrowed brows and an insulted scowl, he beckons “How would you know?”

“She has an eyebrow slit and ‘grade-a carpet muncher’ written in her Instagram bio next to her girlfriend’s name. You really wanna try competing with that, professor?” Lasko stays quiet, even through the contagious mixture of laughs flying around the room from the couple.

He finally mutters, “Whatever”, and is nonetheless satisfied with a name being crossed off of the list. Four hours and one order from Max’s Rustic Pizza later, the trio is splayed across the living room carpet. Three names remain uncrossed on the sheet, staring back at them tauntingly.

“Wait, you forgot about Damien.” Freelancer reminds Lasko with a small nudge. Not that he needed the reminder, but a small part of him was hopeful that leaving him off of the list would rule out the chance of them being soulmates entirely. His hands are reluctant when grabbing the pen set beside him, but are deft when writing the fire elemental’s first name below the rest. A last resort.

“This is-it’s so…so stupid! I mean, aren’t you s-supposed to feel something when you first meet your soulmate? Like, I don’t…I don’t know, butterflies in your stomach or-or, or lightheaded?” Lasko exasperates, tossing the paper aside. It flutters to the ground and lands face-down on the carpet.

“My jeans felt a little tighter when I met you, deviant.” Gavin’s admission is not lost on Freelancer or Lasko. The professor shields his face from the luminous ceiling fan whirling above him, both his arms locked over his eyes. As he does this, he jerks up and emits a harsh grunt.

“Agh, my neck. What the hell?” He sits up to allow his fingers to assess the tight skin. The invisible knot is yanked once more when he tilts his head too far to the left. “Ow!”

In unison, Gavin and Freelancer are quick to diagnose it. “Growing pain.” Freelancer adds with a fond smile, “It means they’re thinking of you.”

His head snaps towards them excitedly, and this time, he grits his teeth and bears the stiffening of his muscles. “That’s it! I know exactly how to find them.” An accomplished smile overcomes his face. Complemented by his bloodshot eyes, something unsettling brews in the pits of Freelancer’s stomach.

“Okay, can you stop looking at me like that now? It’s creepy.”

“I would, but I don’t think I can move my neck anymore…”

The awkward quiet grows thicker with every student that files into Lasko’s classroom the following Monday morning, broken occasionally by a squeaking chair or thump of a bookbag colliding with the floor. He studied the roll call list the entire weekend like he was presenting a dissertation, but now that he had reached the time to present, only four names were on his mind.

“G-g-good morning every-everybody. My-my n-name is Lasko Moore, and I’ll be your professor for DAMN 101 this semester. Don’t think of this as a refresher course of things you may have learned in past institutions, b-but an opportunity to gain knowledge of…of Dahlia’s magical entities, specifically.” He’s afraid if he breathes too deeply, the hefty silence will suffocate him. “Now, I-I’m aware it's a bit—it’s a bit rudimentary to take attendance, but this is only for me to become acquainted with all of you. I’ll only do this for the first few classes until I’m comfortable putting names to faces.”

The professor wastes no time going down the list. Each name he uttered–even ones that had been crossed off from the list–he let settle into the silence while concentrating his thoughts specifically on that person. It is the most foolish theory he's tested in a while, but he is desperate to know who could complete him so marvelously, and remain so subtle about the fact. The further down the list he goes, the tighter his airway constricts when he sees no visible flinch or sign of pain from any of his students.

Hesitantly, he chokes out the next name on the sheet.

“Damien Rhone.” He looks up to find no hand raised, nor the rest of Damien’s body. Seconds tick by without a response, and Lasko feels even more on edge due to the lack of his presence. If the names that follow elicit no reaction from any of the students, either his “fool-proof” plan would be marked a failure, or he’d have to settle with the fact that he and his soulmate wouldn’t have the cutest “how we met” story amongst his friends. There’s a lot that can beat a late-night run into seven-eleven, but almost going up in flames might have to take second place.

As he feared, the last name on the list gets crossed off when he marks the student present (and taken) judging by the early age spots marking their skin. He huffs but doesn’t make his agitation any more visible. After all, he is at work and his soulmate…who knows where they are. Hosting this lecture felt more taxing than all the others he’s taught within the last six years at the university. Discussing DAMN’s cornerstone neighborhoods for different magical beings is something he merely cites, amid his daydreams of arriving home to a relaxing cup of tea and a lengthy video essay to put him to sleep on his couch. The thought became so enticing, that he cut the class short by a whole twenty minutes and sent each departing student with instructions to acclimate to the university campus. While shoveling manilla folders and stray pens into his bag, he gets interrupted by a tap against his shoulder.

“Excuse me, Lasko?” He cranes his neck at the voice, dripping anxiety. They offer their name and elaborate when Lasko furrows his brows. He swears he can feel a crease in between them that wasn’t there last night. “We met yesterday. I made a fool of myself, and then you said you’d email me my schedule. You never called my name when you were taking attendance, though. This is DAMN 101, right?”

Lasko recalls their conversation vividly. He was post-adrenaline rush and flustered as all hell, but somehow their blunders were enough to take the edge off of him and his “broken printer”. Now, he studies the crease between their eyebrows. It wasn’t there when they met originally when they inquired about his age and backpedaled into embarrassment trying to fix their mistake. “Yes, it is. And I’m so sorry for leaving you off the roll call sheet, I’m not sure what happened.”

Halfway through their understanding nod, they emit a wince and introduce the nape of their neck to their hand. “I-it’sokay, I just wanted to double-check.” Lasko tilts his head, blue eyes turning into twinning seas of concern.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?”

“I think I may have slept wrong.”

“What are the chances of it being a growing pain?” Lasko voices his internal demand, throwing caution to the wind, as it were.

“I’d say fat chance because I don’t have a…” They lock eyes with the man before them. Sleeves buttoned to elbows and crooked frames and smile lines. Crow’s feet decorated his orbital rims like fireworks and the creases of his hands mimicked scored clay. “Oh.”

“That's about the reaction I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry, but to be fair, this is new to both of us. Tomorrow I might wake up beside you but I’ll have gray hairs sticking out. Nobody prepares you for that kind of stuff.” Was this a rejection disguised in a prophecy? Lasko will have to hand it to them, it’s one of the more poetic ways to turn someone down.

“If-if y-you’d like to wait b-before we j-jump into…jump into anything, that’s fine. I just, I uh…I just wanted to find you. So bad.”

“What? No, of course, I want this! I want you—I mean…this is just a lot to take in. Aren’t you supposed to feel something when you meet the person? Like increasing body temperature or…” They carry on rambling, with Lasko admiring no more than a foot away. A fond smile adorns his face, pink lips settled high on his cheeks and draped like a streamer.

He had found them.

“Excuse me, Professor Moore?” A panting voice interrupts their discovery as the two watch a student barreling toward Lasko with clear desperation. “I’m so sorry about being late. Did I miss anything important?” His eyes flutter around the room, finding all of the seats bare. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Hey, Dames! Meet my soulmate, Lasko. Lasko, this is Damien, my stepbrother.”

“Soulmate!”

“S-stepbrother?”

soulmate september schedule | main masterlist | abt author

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fluff #redacted angst #redacted damn crew #redacted damien #redacted lasko #redacted dear #redacted freelancer #redacted gavin #soulmate au #redacted headcanons #redacted fanfic #redacted fanfiction #redacted imagine #redacted imagines #redacted oneshot

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juniperpyre · 3 months ago

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evans, after O.W.L.s (part 2)

love is in the hair for, jily week 2024 day 1, run by @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee

read on ao3

She could see him watching her, glancing over between soft barbs from Sirius Black and adulation from Peter Pettigrew. Lily Evans only glanced at James Potter, her gaze hidden behind a thick sheet of wavy auburn hair.

Lily turned fully away from the boy and splashed her feet in the water. James had spent much of their 5th year watching Lily, often with light, darting glances, like he was waiting for something to happen, or else a heavy stare that seemed uncontrollably drawn to her like the earth pulled on the moon.

"Mare, can I see your compact?" Lily asked.

"Sure thing," Mary said as she pulled a light pink, circular compact from her bag. Lily angled it just so, watching the boy who'd been watching her.

He had a snitch—he wasn't even a seeker!—any Lily found a charm in the theft for theft's sake. James Potter was obnoxious, arrogant, and rule-flouting, but he was also witty, intelligent, and handsome. And he was into her.

When he gave her a real gift for her birthday (a brown moleskin leather journal only she could open) Lily knew for certain. Of course, the looks and the jokes and the occasional soft touches to her back made his affections clear, but this cinched it for Lily.

He put the snitch away and had a short exchange with Sirius before glancing over again. Lily's heart beat twice as fast. In the compact, she watched unabashedly as he ran his hand through his unkempt hair, only making it messier.

Lily wondered what he'd do if she marched over, tangled a hand in his hair, and pulled him down for a kiss. He looked so good with his hair pushed back, and somehow just as good when it fell back in his face. She'd hex him if he cut it.

James shouted something, shocking Lily from her fantasy. She pulled her eyes away and onto the situation unfolding. Severus was on the ground, surrounded by a crowd of students, James and Sirius lording over him.

Once more James' eyes flickered toward Lily, but this time the heat in her chest was from indignation. Did he think this would impress her?

Of course, the moment Lily considered his maturity, his positive traits, James Potter had to ruin them by being himself. This was who he truly was: a pureblood bully, keen on a Muggleborn and assuming she'd enjoy a show of his power.

Fuck him.

Lily marched over, wand in hand, ready to hex.

#jily #lily evans #james potter #jily week 2024 #m #my work #this is jsut a silly little thing

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 10 months ago

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The Great Upheaval of Percy Weasley: Avoidance

Percy Weasley x OC

Description: Percy Weasley has been avoiding her and that will certainly not do.

Percy had been acting weird, not normal Percy weird, more like nervous schoolboy weird. And while Percy behaving strangely wouldn’t have worried Elle any other year, this year it was getting in her way. He was supposed to be her distraction, instead he was avoiding her. She was sure he couldn’t still be annoyed about her disappearing a few days ago. His kiss was enough to prove that. Yet, since then he hadn’t said a word, and ignored her invitations. She yanked her jumper over her head so hard it ripped. It was all she could do not to scream.

As she changed one black jumper to the next, she glanced out the window at the pouring rain. It was only one more thing to glare about. First Quidditch match of the year and she was going to be working in the rain, without warm lips to come back to.

“Hurry up, I want a good seat,” Dinah called.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Elle responded stepping out of the bathroom and grabbing her slicker.

“Wow, that’s some incredible house spirit,” Dinah said, noting her black jumper.

“I’m neutral.”

“Sure, until we win and then you drink like the rest of us.”

“Details, details.”

“Just make sure you take care of our team faster than theirs. I have a bet with Quinn, and I do not have the funds for a loss.” Elle rolled her eyes; this was the same conversation they had before every Quidditch match since Elle had started working for Madam Pomfrey in her fourth year.

“Do you want me to promise and lie, or just stay quiet.” Dinah only smacked her with her umbrella in response. “What’s the bet today?”

“Hufflepuff wins due to Gryffindor losing its seeker to an unforeseen injury.”

“You really have to stop betting on details and stick to just the winner.”

“Harry hasn’t been injured for ages.”

“Have you seen the weather; you could be injured in that storm.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dinah says as they pushed the door open, stepping into the torrent outside. The heavy oak pushed them back as the rain instantly soaked them.

“You were saying?” Elle yelled over the wind.

“Shut up,” Dinah yelled back, ducking her head as they marched towards the Quidditch pitch. They were halfway to the pitch when Elle realized she had left her wand sitting on the windowsill by her bed.

“Fuck, I forgot my wand,” she yelled.

“What?”

“I forgot my wand,” she yelled again, making a motion with her hand. “I’ll see you after the game.” Dinah waved her away as she continued her trek towards the pitch. Elle turned and ran back towards the castle, the wind pushing against her back all the way. She yanked open the doors and smacked right into the boy who had been avoiding her. His eyes widened and she accidentally glared.

“Elle-.”

“Move it Weasley, I’m on a deadline.”

“Wait-.”

“No, you’ll have to wait, I forgot my wand,” she growled pushing past him.

“Accio wand,” he announced, “Now, do you have a moment?” She whipped around. He’d been avoiding her, and now he had time to talk.

“Listen here, Percy Weasley, I don’t know who you think you are but-.” And then he was kissing her, right in the middle of the corridor, as if he didn’t give a damn about who came around the corner. She yanked herself away despite not wanting to.

“I’m sorry, they’ve got me following Potter. I haven’t been able to get away,” he said, catching her wand before handing it to her. She licked her teeth and glanced over her shoulder for anyone who might be watching, and then grabbed him by the tie kissing him again. When she pulled away, they were both grinning.

“Restricted section, after the game?” He kissed her again and she took that as a resounding yes. He pushed open the door for her and they both stepped back into the pouring rain that didn’t seem as cold as it did before.

When they reached the pitch, they waved their goodbyes and she slipped into the locker room, searching for Wood. She passed the girls changing and marched into the boy’s locker room.

“Wood!” she hollered, peaking around corners. She ran into the twins who both grinned but pointed her in the right direction without a suggestive comment from either, it seemed they remembered her threat from the last time they had crossed paths. “Wood.”

“Jesus Elle, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Oh shove it, I’m here to warn you.”

“About what?” he asked with a cocky grin and she slugged him in the arm.

“Listen, I know you like to take risks, don’t, not with the way it looks out there today.”

“Elle-.”

“Don’t argue with me. Just know there are two ways to fix broken bones, easy ways and hard ways, don’t make it the hard way.”

“You really know how write pep talk.”

“Shut up and win.” With that she walked out, noting Harry as she went and praying that Dinah would be winning money her bet today. She walked onto the pitch and winced at the spray of rain before finding Poppy in the medical tent.

“They shouldn’t be playing today,” the nurse fussed, and Elle nodded, glancing up at the sky.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She prepped everything they might need and sat at the edge of the tent, just out of reach of the rain. As she waited for the players to enter the arena she searched for Percy among the crowds. It wasn’t until Hufflepuff stepped out that she found his ginger curls whipping around in the wind, but she didn’t have long to stare before Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle into the air and the game began.

For being the worst weather she had ever seen, the first half of the game was without much injury. It seemed Wood had headed her warning (there was a first for everything). It wasn’t until the end of Katie Bell’s broom was struck with lightning that Elle was forced to make her way onto the field. She quickly put out the fire and checked the chaser over.

“All clear,” she yelled over the wind and then Katie was gone, back into the downpour the moment she was cleared. Elle returned to the tent only to run back out a few moments later as one of the Hufflepuff beaters was struck by lightning and came crashing down.

He wasn’t getting back on his broom anytime soon. She dragged him and his broom through the mud towards the tent and then levitated him onto a stretcher. She poured a thick white mixture into a cup and tipped it against his lips. Even through unconsciousness his nose scrunched at the smell, but she tipped his head back and poured it down his throat anyway. She was checking him over when she heard the gasps from outside.

She rushed into the rain just in time to see Harry hit the ground and Hufflepuff win the game. It seemed Quinn was going to be making her money today.

She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse, shocked to find how cold he was. No bones seemed to be broken and he had only suffered from a few minor scrapes and bruises.

“Poppy,” she hollered over the rain, “Bring the stretcher.” She raised the boy onto the stretcher and glanced wearily around at the students watching her. She yanked her attention away from them and back to Harry. “We need to get him warm, but other that he should be fine. Someone stopped him from hitting the ground hard enough for it to cause any damage.” Poppy nodded as she levitated the stretcher towards the castle. Elle rushed back inside and waited for the rest of the teams to wander through for their checks.

No one seemed particularly cheerful as they wandered through her tent. Whether that was the loss or the dementors she couldn’t be sure, but from the gloomy looks on the Hufflepuff team’s faces she guessed the latter. Everyone seemed to be fine but she asked Katie to stop by the Hospital Wing for a quick check up, just to make sure, and then levitated the Hufflepuff boy back to the castle.

Both teams had beat her back, and the Hufflepuffs were waiting patiently for their teammate.

“He should be awake in a few minutes,” she assured them before finding Poppy. The nurse sent her away, assuring her that there was nothing more she could do. She checked just to make sure, but Poppy had no problem swatting her away from patients either. She grinned and turned, doing her best not to sprint out of the Hospital Wing and towards the Restricted Section. However, she was intercepted on her way by a pair of cold hands and warm lips.

“I thought we agreed the Restricted Section?”

“Too far,” he murmured against her lips, locking the door behind him before pushing her against it. “How long will he be in the Hospital Wing?”

“A couple more hours at least.”

“Perfect,” he said before pulling her close again. He was almost as famished as she was as he hoisted her up and set her on a desk. His hands slipped beneath her jumper and she jumped at the cold tips of his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Your hands are just cold,” she laughed grabbing his hands in hers and blowing softy. She could feel him shiver against her breath. She glanced up to meet his eyes before dropping his hands to cup his face before kissing him again. Warmer hands dropped back to the hem of her jumper before finding her skin once more. This time, instead of jumping away, she leaned in closer, relishing the feeling of his fingers creeping along the dips of her stomach. He peeled off her jumper and goosebumps followed his touch to the band of her bra.

She tilted her head as his lips found her neck and tugged on his curls, still damp from the rain. She was vaguely aware of his fingers tracing the band around to the clasp. He fumbled with it before giving up and simply resting his hand beneath the fabric. His other hand found her thigh, pulling it up against his waist. The denim stretched against the apex of her thighs as he pulled her closer.

“Elle,” he whispered against her skin and she pushed him away only to pull his lips to hers.

“Never again Percy Weasley, you hear me?” she asked against his lips, but he only cocked his hand in confusion. He pulled his hands away, as if he had done something wrong, but she caught him before he could fully retreat. “Never again will you ditch me like that,” she said before kissing him again. She pulled away once more to study his face, “Do you understand me?”

“Crystal clear.”

Excellent,” she laughed, emphasizing her pleasure with a harsh kiss to his jaw. She traced her thumb over the spot where she had kissed him moments before. “Excellent,” she repeated.

“You’re excellent, and trust me, if I’m stupid enough to disappear again I will cast the curse for you.” She grinned and wrapped her legs around his waist, yanking him closer. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she breathed him in, drowning in the euphoria of warm lips while thunder crashed around them.

taglist: @andromedasstarship @danadeacon

#percy weasley imagines #percy weasley #percy weasley fanfic #percy weasley x reader #percy weasley fanfiction #percy weasley x oc #percy weasley smut #percy weasley fluff #percy weasley angst

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yallthemwitches · 22 days ago

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Twist of Fate

In a second it all passes through his mind: the anxiety of the try-outs; the possibility of saying good-bye to Hogwarts; the image of Lily that morning, concert tickets in hand and jumping with elation; the sound of two twittering fourth years saying that Sophie had called them soulmates; Lily again, laying on her back, eyes closed, humming to a song—what song was it? And why is it now so vital for him to remember it right at this moment?

Written for @jilytoberfest Day 20, Prompt 🎶Try to move on, it's back to you that all my roads keep leading 🎶 - Before I Fall Apart by Elle Coves

AO3 Here

“I just love him. God he’s so fit.”

“Evans…he’s dressed in a rainbow jumpsuit.”

“Yeah and maybe you would look fitter if you tried one.”

James whistles. “Wow, low blow.”

They are laying on the ground in the boys’ dorm, deserted by the rest of the lads who were a little too willing to scamper off to History of Magic. Remus’ record player turns and the hum of a guitar lick rips through the space.

“I’d just die to see him play live. He’s actually going to be at the Roundhouse next week—Remus and I are trying to snag tickets.”

James tries to picture it: Lily and Remus in muggle London. She will no doubt dress to fit the part: hair cascading down her back and in some little dress that is just as glam as the music. Remus is just happy to be there, singing along when she puts an arm around his neck and belts the tune in his ear. It’s a nice image, one that if any third party saw would perhaps mistake for romance. He is surprised he doesn’t feel jealous by the image.

“You should come too—Sirius and Peter as well, of course. Might as well take the gang.”

All the sudden the image shifts, colors seeping together like the mixing of paint. Instead of Remus he’s there, her arm around his neck, dancing against him when they play a song she can’t resist, laughing and pulling him close at the end of the night when they are all drunk and silly and bumbling down side streets.

It’s a dangerous, incredible thought.

“Er, yeah! Would love to!”

Lily leans onto her side, hair falling against her shoulder. He looks up at her from his back, trying hard not to think about all the other scenarios in which their eye contact would be just like this. She smiles softly, and he returns it, his body melting into the floorboards just by the sight of her contentment.

“Maybe you could invite Sophie too–”

It’s how he imagines an icicle to the heart feels like. Suddenly, he doesn’t want her looking down at him with those eyes, doesn’t want any sort of reminder that they have reached a closeness that in the past was impossible. He pulls himself up into a seated position and she follows suit, completely unaware that the spell is broken and he must face the music: he has, at least on paper, moved on.

“Er—you know about that?”

Lily snorts. “Sorry to break it to you but when two quidditch players from different houses start snogging, the whole school is bound to find out.”

Snogging is a strong term for what Sophie and him are actually doing. He knows what the rumor mill has been peddling: some shoddy tryst in which James, high off his quidditch win, pushed Ravenclaw seeker Sophie McCarthy into a broom closet for a celebratory feel up. In reality, half of it is true: he did go into a broom closet with her ( because she pulled him there) and he did kiss her (awkwardly, chaste, mouth fumbling) and there was feeling up to be had (her trying to get under his jersey and him backing into some cleaning supplies)--- but that didn’t stop anyone from talking.

He wants to tell her in fine detail about how Sophie and him are not a thing despite what she would say if questioned. Tell her that if he was getting to the bottom of it, the only reason he entertained Sophie was because he knew he was being pathetic by not moving on. Tell her that the reason he hadn’t actually done everything the rumors said was because the entire time he sat in that dusty broom closet with Sophie slithering over him, his mind was counting the seconds where they would be right back here, just laying on the ground next to each other.

Lily must have sensed an unease because she changes course with a cough.

“Uhm, speaking of quidditch players, when's the tryout for the Canons? Brilliant you got invited.”

Fuck. That's right.

“Oh, uh next Tuesday.”

He turns his head away, not wanting her to see his nerves. The captain of the Chudley Cannons had come scouting the other week and James had been one of the lucky ones to get an invite. Being drafted would mean being taken out of school immediately to start an international circuit, playing professionally as a star. It was a dream opportunity, one that would change the course of his life forever— and if he was being honest with himself, the choice haunted him.

“Ah bugger, that's the day of the concert!” She moans. “Well, I guess Remus and I will manage without you gits anyhow.”

She tries her best to hide it, but her voice betrays her. There’s a disappointment that clouds her eyes and he wishes he could pluck the feeling out of her and never let it return.

Trying to deflect her sadness, she leans forward and gives the front patch of his hair a little tousle. Compared to his, her hand is small and gentle against the roots.

“You’re gonna be brilliant. If anyone can do it, it’s your arrogant arse.”

He wishes her hand could linger forever. That everything would just fall away except for the messy dorm room, the waft of the music, and her.

****

The bright orange kettle used for the portkey is left on the bench inside the locker rooms, glinting like some sort of guarded ancient treasure.

Sophie saunters in, quidditch kit already on and bag slung against her hip. In a horrible form of irony, she is the only other student from Hogwarts invited to the tryouts, a fact she has made sure to spread across the school.

“Heya James.”

She stands in front of him, and he doesn’t even look up. He isn’t even dressed yet, feeling too sluggish and torn to get ready.

“You nervous? You look–”

Like shit? Like a man haunted? Like my life is passing before my eyes?

“---tense.” She sets down her bag and reaches her hand out to place into his hair. His reaction is immediate, jerking his head back so her hand falls limp at her side, face twisting into a grimace.

“Hey, quit it,” he bites out. Sophie looks unfazed, folding her arms against her chest in indignation.

“What has gotten into you?” She sputters, aghast, “You know, you haven’t even tried to talk to me since the last game—I’m starting to think you don’t like me or something.”

It comes out faster than he can contemplate the consequence.

“That’s because I don’t like you—and I don’t like that you’ve been saying that we are something we aren’t.”

Sophie purses her lips, eyes lowering to slits.

“Are you really going to start this? Right before our big break together?”

Hot anger claws at his chest, but not for Sophie. He presses his eyes tight, replaying the image over and over, now a delirious vision. Lily, on the floor of the dorm, eyes closed with a tight smile on her lips—but what is the song? Merlin Fuck why will the silence of the memory not give him peace?

“Leave me alone Sophie.” He says through gritted teeth. Still focused on a point very far from the locker room.

“Do you mean right now or in general?” Her voice trembles, body bracing back.

“Yes.”

James doesn’t open his eyes when he hears a soft pop. She took the portkey, leaving him stranded on the bench.

Fluttering his eyes open, he looks at the spot where the kettle had taunted him moments earlier, now relieved to not have it burning its brilliant orange into his irises. He considers that they might not send another portkey for him when another pop echoes into space and a teacup appears on the ground, his fate reappearing.

He heaves a sigh, the new portkey an even greater tormenting force than the first. Unzipping his bag to get changed, he pulls out his kit, taking more time than he should since he is already running late. Reaching in to find his arm pads, his fingers scrape against something flat and sleek, weighing down the rest of his uniform underneath.

It’s a record, though not like any one that he has ever seen back in the dorms. It doesn’t have an album cover, just a simple cardboard holder protecting the vinyl inside. He tilts it downwards to let the disc fall against his hand and a small card flutters to the ground, landing near the mocking teacup.

Here’s some tunes to get your spirit up! Don’t forget us when you are a big Quidditch Star!

–L.

PS It’s charmed so it plays all my favorites—just tap it and it will tell you the artist and song title!

He stares at the note, turning it around in his hands a few times. On the center label of the vinyl, she drew a crude doodle of a snitch with a lily flower inscribed into the gold plating.

It’s only then that the sound enters back into him, like a spirit finding its body. The gentle melody of harmonizing voices, her head swaying back and forth against the wood grain of the dorm floor to the plucking of a guitar.

While I'm far away from you my baby

I know it's hard for you my baby

Because it's hard for me my baby

And the darkest hour is just before dawn

He zips up his bag, making sure the record is snuggly tucked between clothes and rises from the bench.

******

Lily looks in the mirror. It's her third attempt to curl her hair, but even with magic her locks loosen almost immediately into soft waves onto her back. She wants to be excited for tonight, but her stomach is clenching in a way that makes her fidget in her chair.

She looks at the clock. At this point James’ try-outs should be winding down, him sweaty with his hair all mussed and a look of absolute elation plastered onto his face. It was one of the things she was ok with admitting to herself: she loves how James Potter looks after he is done with a game. She wonders if he will look the same when his movements are being projected on a big stadium screen.

She isn’t an idiot: both Remus and Sirius have spoken to her about the implications of this opportunity if he got signed. In truth, she knows that it is what is clawing at her stomach, the desire to wish him well while selfishly not wanting him to leave. It's different for her, the boys would all still get to see him, probably visit him at games and catch him when he was around on tour. For her though—something told her that budding mates weren’t going to make the cut.

She stares at herself in the mirror, focusing on the center of her face until the image distorts and becomes unfocused. What would her days be without James? Even at their worst he was still a part of her ecosystem, just as integral as the rest. Maybe this was just their fate: to have found their footing together a little too late, forever doing tiny dances around each other that would never lead to harmony.

A quick rap echoes into the dorm and the door cracks open. James peeks in, not flush from quidditch but dressed in a pair of muggle trousers and a buttoned shirt.

“Hey–can I still come to the concert?”

It feels like wind is picking her up and out of her seat. She tumbles forward, cheeks already in pain she is smiling so wide. The world is just a tiny glinting speck where there is no such thing as quidditch or Sophies or futures that do not involve music and dancing and being with each other.

It’s the easiest decision they’ve ever made.

*The song lyrics are from "Dedicated to the One I Love" By the Mamas and the Papas

#jilytober fest #jilytober #jilytoberfest 2024 #jily #james potter #lily evans #marauders era

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bertiebingobiffy · 1 year ago

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DIVINE PROVIDENCE - A FAR CRY 5 PLAYLIST

combined my love of creepy folk music, vaguely christian music, and massive playlists to create a special one for Far Cry 5. and the songs are categorized by theme!!

(i posted one previously but didn't like the graphics, so here's a playlist that is more aesthetically pleasing)

🕇 "CLASSIC" GOTHIC COUNTRY 🕇

Ain't No Grave - Johnny Cash Bad Moon Rising - Mourning Ritual Blood On My Name - The Brothers Bright Bottom of the River - Delta Rae Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons Come Away to the Water - Glen Hansard I Will Never Die - Delta Rae O Death - Clifton Hicks Sinner Man - The Seekers

🕇 RELIGIOUS OVER & UNDERTONES 🕇

Ain't No Devil - Andrea Wasse Carry Me Home - The Sweeplings Down to the River - Alison Krauss Eat Your Young - Hozier Headed for the Reaper (acappella) - Kat Frankie Heaven is Here - Florence & the Machine Holy Water - Freya Ridings Pale White Horse - The Oh Hellos Providence - Poor Man's Poison Wayfaring Stranger - Dolly Parton Wading Deep Waters - Crooked Still

🕇 BAD-ASS VIBES 🕇

Baby Outlaw - Elle King Bones - Split the Dealer The Calling - The Rigs For What It's Worth - Trills Glitter & Gold - Barns Courtney Gold Lion - Yeah Yeah Yeahs Red Right Hand - Laura Marling Rest in Peace - Dorothy Run Baby Run - The Rigs Ticking Bomb - Aloe Blacc Where Did You Sleep Last Night? - Nirvana

🕇 INTERPRET AS YOU WILL... 🕇

Better Dig Two - The Band Perry Big Love (live, 1997) - Fleetwood Mac The Chain - Fleetwood Mac Daddy Lessons - Beyonce Dirty Paws - Of Monsters and Men Everybody Knows - Sigrid House of the Rising Sun/Amazing Grace - Athens Creek I Get Off (live) - Halestorm Never Tear Us Apart - Dylan LeBlanc Terrible Things (feat. Ashley McBryde) - Halestorm Throne - Saint Mesa Until the Levee - Joy Williams Waters - Eliza Shaddad Where is Your Rider? - The Oh Hellos Wildfires - Jenny Mitchell You - Greta Isaac

#far cry 5 #farcryedit #fc5 #fc5edit #*my stuff

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lacesconfidences · 2 months ago

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Il faut souffrir pour être une fille !

Ma sœur était plus attirée par les filles que par les garçons. Sa première chérie s'appelait Christine, c'était une rousse mignonne et très féminine. Elle avait 16 ans et était la fille d'une esthéticienne divorcée. Elle logeait au dessus de l'institut de sa mère. Nous formions Christine, ma sœur et moi un drôle de trio de gourmandes de plaisirs. Cela a duré un peu plus de deux ans, jusqu'à mon entrée à l'Université. Tous les samedis après-midi et quelquefois en semaine, nous nous retrouvions dans la chambre de Christine qui était devenue notre salle de jeux. Christine n'était pas en reste et le fait qu'elle vive seule avec sa mère lui a donné beaucoup d'avance côté sexe. Après mes premiers essayages de fille chez Christine, et avant de découvrir le plaisir féminin de me faire prendre par un tampon puis un merveilleux vibro, mes deux complices ont voulu me débarrasser de mes poils disgracieux… Ma sœur y était déjà passée, sauf son minou et c'était très simple car Christine empruntait le matériel de sa mère à l'Institut et s'exerçait sur elle. Un après-midi, ma sœur et sa chérie ne se sont pas caressées comme à leur habitude. Elles ont comploté en messes bases… Elisabeth m'a demandé de me mettre en culotte pendant que Christine descendait à l'Institut. Elle est remontée avec un truc à cire chaude, des bandes et un rasoir électrique. Elle m'a dit : C'est pas beau une fille avec des poils, on va s'occuper de toi ! Elles ont mis une serviette éponge sur le lit et m'ont demandé de m'allonger sur le dos. Christine a appliqué de la cire sur mes jambes, c'était chaud et agréable. Elisabeth a pressé des bandes sur la cire… Et ensuite, je ne sais plus laquelle des deux a arraché la première bande 🤐🥴😭 Tout ce que je sais c'est que j'ai poussé un cri tel que la mère de Christine a demandé du bas ce qu'elles me faisaient pour me faire crier ainsi ! Et elles ont continué ainsi devant et derrière puis sur la poitrine où heureusement j'avais peu de poils car j'ai souffert … Ha les garces 🥴 Pour finir, Christine m'a dit : "Baisse ta culotte, on va te dessiner le maillot pour que tu aies un joli minou comme nous." Je me suis exécuté en lui disant de faire gaffe à ne pas me blesser avec sa tondeuse. Je n'ai pas été blessée mais à force de me manipuler le clito et les couilles, je leur ai offert une belle queue bien raide. Elisabeth a dit : on ne peut pas le laisser comme ça, il ne peut même plus remettre sa culotte 🍆🍆🍆. Et Christine d'ajouter qu'après tout ce travail elles avaient droit a une récompense. Elles m'ont branlé et j'ai déchargé dans la main de Christine qui s'est empressée de lécher ma liqueur. Elisabeth était frustrée car elle n'a eu que les dernières gouttes en essorant mon clito qui dégonflait…

***********************************************

You have to suffer to be a girl!

My sister was more attracted to girls than boys. Her first sweetheart was called Christine, she was a cute and very feminine redhead. She was 16 years old and the daughter of a divorced beautician. She lived above her mother's salon. Christine, my sister and I formed a strange trio of pleasure seekers. This lasted a little over two years, until I entered university. Every Saturday afternoon and sometimes during the week, we met in Christine's room which had become our playroom. Christine was not left out and the fact that she lived alone with her mother gave her a big head start on the sex side. After my first girl fittings at Christine's, and before discovering the feminine pleasure of being taken by a tampon then a wonderful vibrator, my two accomplices wanted to get rid of my unsightly hairs… My sister had already been there, except for her pussy and it was very simple because Christine borrowed her mother's equipment at the Institute and practiced on her. One afternoon, my sister and her sweetheart did not caress each other as usual. They plotted in my basics… Elisabeth asked me to put on my panties while Christine went down to the Institute. She came back up with a hot wax thing, strips and an electric razor. She told me: It's not beautiful a girl with hairs, we'll take care of you! They put a terry towel on the bed and asked me to lie on my back. Christine applied wax to my legs, it was hot and pleasant. Elisabeth pressed strips on the wax… And then, I don't remember which of the two tore off the first strip 🤐🥴😭 All I know is that I screamed so much that Christine's mother asked from below what they were doing to me to make me scream like that! And they continued like this in front and behind then on my chest where fortunately I had little hair because I suffered… Oh the bitches 🥴 To finish, Christine told me: "Pull down your panties, we're going to draw your swimsuit so that you have a pretty pussy like us." I complied, telling her to be careful not to hurt me with her clippers. I wasn't hurt but by dint of manipulating my clit and balls, I gave them a nice stiff cock. Elisabeth said: we can't leave him like this, he can't even put his panties back on 🍆🍆🍆. And Christine added that after all this work they were entitled to a reward. They jerked me off and I unloaded in Christine's hand who quickly licked my juice. Elisabeth was frustrated because she only got the last drops by wringing out my deflating clit…

#me #secrets #my sister #to be a girl

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avaf00rd · 4 months ago

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I know it’s just one person. Get the f out of my asks about Leah and Elle. I got some more today for SOME REASON. It’s none of our business at all. Hating on their suspected relationship because she is not ‘Leah’s Type’, too seductive or is an attention seeker is gross of u

Let’s all grow up!

#leah williamson

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mothmorality · 4 months ago

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴜsᴇs, ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ/ᴛᴠ qᴜᴏᴛᴇ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ sʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴛ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇs

---

"without the self-criticism, i'd be lost."

aurora hirsch // wanderer. early to mid 20s. stoner living in her van out of choice, not necessity. lover of the spontaneous and dramatic.

faceclaim/talia ryder.

---

"i know these will all be stories someday."

sylas kit sinclair // mediator. early to mid 20s. soft-spoken and witty, non-confrontational, inexperienced.

faceclaim/thomas weatherall.

---

"i will not accept a life i do not deserve."

juliette rose holloway // manipulator. mid to late 20s. borderline narcissistic, overly sexual, non-commital.

faceclaim/ella purnell.

---

"i want to hide in a place that makes me comfortable."

camille jean burkeley // waif. early 20s. outwardly cowardice and gullible, inwardly cunning and calculating. all around bubbly.

faceclaim/elle fanning.

---

"how is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world i never knew?"

valentine 'val' crawford // perfectionist. late 20s to early 30s. professional, nerdy, experienced.

faceclaim/tom hughes.

---

"i'm a girl, i should do as i like."

juniper eve wallace // gossip. early to mid 20s. mean girl, uncaring, lover of hook ups and drama.

faceclaim/maddie phillips.

---

"i'm sorry? what the hell am i sorry for?"

jasper august laurent // thrill-seeker. early to mid 20s. outgoing, loud, honest, and a bit rude.

faceclaim/oktay çubuk.

---

”no, i’m not afraid to disappear.”

georgia leclaire // survivor. early to mid 20s. strong-willed, final girl, insomniac, jumpy, resilient.

faceclaim/sadie soverall

—-

“the world isn’t that good.”

kinsley elowyn drummond // rogue. early to mid 20s. princess of the kingdom of celestoria. can be rude, often in disagreement with the other royals in her kingdok, gets along better with those who have no royal connections.

faceclaim / lily james

—-

“for as long as the sun and the moon shall endure.”

clyde emerson // guardian. mid to late 20s. obsessive, compulsive, posessive, and gentle only with who he is seeing.

faceclaim / simone baldasseroni

—-

”all i have to say is, some people will be sorry someday.”

vivian everly fitz // innocent. early to mid 20s. girl next door, bright eyed, bubbly, emotional.

faceclaim / diana silvers

—-

”i want to fall in love. but, i’m bored of everyone i meet.”

diana isla winslow // manipulator. mid 20s. two-faced, self serving, survivalist.

faceclaim / halston sage

—-

”you dream in a language i can’t understand.”

clara sutton golding // traveller. early to mid 20s. commitment issues, trouble staying in one place, bright disposition.

faceclaim / maia reficco

—-

ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ﹗

#my muses #muses #ocs #roleplay #indie rp #discord rp #1x1 rp #1x1 roleplay #roleplay character #rp character #rp muses #oc rp

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nevis-the-skeleton · 2 years ago

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Shockwave and the names of his Creations (my AU, TPS)

In my AU, Shockwave is really lame for finding names for his creations, really lame.

Vehicons

*Shockwave is in his lab, and has summoned the Decepticons high command to come, to show them his now completed work. Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave soon arrive, and the scientist introduces a group of three Vehicons, before declaring*

Shockwave: I present to you our new army. The Vehicons, they are easy to produce, and have a minimum of intelligence to be autonomous.

Starscream: How did you build them?

Shockwave: Thanks to Soundwave's plan.

*Soundwave makes a startled move, and turns to Megatron with a slightly annoyed move*

Megatron: You created Cold Constructions?

Shockwave: No, my Vehicons are nowhere near as sophisticated as the Cold Constructions.

*Starscream looks unconvinced and a little angry, and Soundwave crosses his arms*

Shockwave, sighs: I assure you, these are not Cold Constructs.

Megatron, to Starscream and Soundwave: What Shockwave did is useful for our cause, think about it.

Starscream: Yeah…

Megatron: Well, they have names, so we can recognize them?

Shockwave: Of course. *points to the first Vehicon* it is called 3D0U4R, *points to the second* B45T13N, *points to the third* M4RCU5.

Starscream, indignant: Those aren't names!!

Shockwave: Of course it is.

Starscream: Those are registration number!

Shockwave: Perfect names for drones.

*Starscream glares at Shockwave, and Soundwave's screen turns red*

Starscream, angry: That's stupid! In addition these numbers have no logic!

Shockwave, indignant: Of course it is!

*Megatron motions for everyone to calm down*

Megatron, scold: Seriously, how old are you?

*Starscream pouts, and Shockwave turns to Megatron*

Shockwave: I assure you that these names-

Starscream, whisper: Registration number...

Shockwave, tilts his antennae back angrily: Those names are logical.

Megatron: Explain to us then.

Shockwave: Alright.

*Shockwave then began an explanation that no one understood. And no matter how much he explained in every possible way, the others did not see the logic which seemed obvious to the scientist.*

The Insecticons

*Shockwave had created a new army, for him more powerful than his Vehicons, now obsolete. Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave enter the lab, and the Seeker cringes upon seeing the Insecticons*

Shockwave: I present to you my new invention.

Megatron: Impressive.

Starscream, discreetly: But what are these monsters…?!

Shockwave: Insecticons, more powerful than Vehicons, but also dumber.

Soundwave: < They > < have > < names > < ? >

Shockwave: Of course, we have Insec-1, Insec-2, Ins-

Starscream, stop Shockwave: I stop you right now!

*Shockwave moves his antennae back, before turning to Starscream*

Starscream: Give them true names! Not stupid registration numbers!!

*Megatron raises optics, but Soundwave nods in great approval*

Shockwave, turns to Megatron for intervention: Lord Megatron…! It's absurd!

Megatron: I don't see what's wrong with giving them real names?

Shockwave, shakes his head: It's useless, they were created to fight and to die on the battlefield. They are drones, like Vehicons, they have no value! Not enough to have names!

*These words lead to the anger of the two Cold Constructions in front of him, who glare at him. Starscream lifts his wings high, as Soundwave clenches his fists*

Starscream, annoyed: Give them names right now!

*Shockwave sighs heavily, before looking one last time at Megatron, who nods. The scientist points to the first Insecticon*

Shockwave: Your name will be… hm… Bombshell! *points to the second one* you, Shrapnel! *points to the third* Deathduel, *the fourth* Bombduel, *the fifth* Deathshell, *points to the sixth* Due-

Starscream, angrily: I swear on Primus that if you give another "-ell" name to the next Insecticon I'll kick your aft!

Shockwave, stares coldly at Starscream, while pointing at the sixth Insecticon: Kick back.

Starscream: Grr, you-

Megatron, grab Starscream: Alright, time to go.

*Megatron ends up bringing out Soundwave and Starscream, even though the Seeker mostly wanted to gut Shockwave*

*In the end, it was Starscream and Soundwave who find names for the other Insecticons*

The Predacons

*Shockwave created his first Predacon, i.e. Predaking (who haven't his name yet). Shockwave hadn't necessarily been looking for a name for his creation, but end up thinking that saying "hey you" isn't really correct*

Shockwave: You know, I've been thinking about it, and I think it's time I got you a real name.

*Predaking shakes his head with interest, apparently very excited to have one*

Shockwave: So, I'll call you...

*Predaking shakes his tail impatiently*

Shockwave: Predacon!

*Predaking is suddenly a lot less excited*

Shockwave: What? You don't like ?

*Predaking walks away, disappointed, and grunts slightly upset*

Shockwave: But, it's a very good name! You are the only Predacon, it's logical that this is your name! Hey, wait! Come back! Predacon!

*Predaking doesn't turn around at the appellation, and flies away*

~-~

*Shockwave has created two new Predacons which are Darksteel and Skylynx. They had remained in the vats when Shockwave was on Earth, but upon his return to Cybertron, with Dreadwing, he had opened the vats. But then again, they don't have names. Darksteel walks closer, and says*

Darksteel: Hey, Mr. Shockwave, could we have names other than Predacon-2 and Predacon-3?

Skylynx: Yeah, where at least would one of us have to be Predacon-1! Why can't we be called Predacon-1?!

Shockwave: Because a Predacon before you was already called Predacon. And so, it was him, Predacon-1.

Skylynx: Lame…

Darksteel: But I want a real name! A cool one like yours, or Dreadwing's!

Skylynx: Oh yeah! That's a hundred times better!

Shockwave: *sighs*…

Darksteel and Skylynx: Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!

Shockwave: … Well, okay!

Darksteel and Skylynx, happy: Yeah!

Shockwave: Alright, you *points to Skylynx* I'll call you Preda, and you *points to Darksteel* King… *Antennas droop sadly* Like this, when I'll call you both it'll make Predaking *light sob*

*Darksteel and Skylynx look at Shockwave in confusion, and Dreadwing intervenes*

Dreadwing: Hm… so… uh… No… Come with me you two, let Shockwave work, we'll find names together.

*Finally, the two Predacons chose their names themselves, with the help of Dreadwing*

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natstolemysocks · 3 months ago

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7.How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

A'lexi (A'nijah's older brother): I don't have any opinion. Saw the man. Bit trigger happy around knives perhaps? But overall nothing too bad. If it's what Nijah wants so be it.

A'nhea (A'nijah's father): -simply not told-

Ayo'a (Lea'li's older brother, A'nijah's friend): It took me a while to get that they were… you know. An item. I just thought they had somehow inexplicably become very close friends. Was confused for days when I found out.

Etoilonoix ('friend' of A'nijah, colleague of Lea'li): This stays between us, but gods, A'nijah Tia could do so much better. Honestly, Dipper is as cultured as a boar. There is auroch shite with more decorum. Though I suppose the little Seeker could've done much worse. Like something tall, royal and Garlean. Or said Garlean's grandfather. But don't look at me, I'm not here to exhume the dead. Not before sundown at least.

Kiht'a (A'nijah's uncle): Don't ask me, I've never even met him.

Lea (Lea'li's mother): Nothing wrong with getting yer back blown out by an adventurer of such calibre. Fought the li'l twerp with the rest of the crew and 'Ells, I was layin' on me back too afterwards.

Nateli (Ixali friend): Fun, the gingers are. Lot of volume when together in secret. Ask what redheads are doing then, Nateli should.

Nemoh (another lover of Lea'li): Isn't it just a joy to behold? The way they look at one another, it's so sweet. They're so in love!

Pyha (A'nijah's aunt): Wait now, he met someone? Why no one told me?

Sethorel (hates them both): I'd rather they stuck to their own business and kept out of mine.

Tyago (A'nijah's mother): …I just don't like it. Sure, perhaps he's a nice man, as my son keeps insisting. But I'd prefer he'd stay away all the same.

In general Lea'li as his partner is quite baffling to others because outwards they seem like completely different people. What possibly could bring them together is a mystery. And if A'nijah would try to explain given the circumstnces of how they've met it's even more appaling for many. His brother who had a pleasure to witness Lea'li and how he is with A'nijah is the most receptive of this relationship however. Some others would say that he awfully quick to draw a dagger. @confusedtia

Lea'li throws out innuendos as often as he's throwing knives, which has left some friends and family confused about the type of relationship he has with A'nijah. This especially was the case when they had just started dating, which might have been a blessing for Lea'li since on one hand he was nervous about what others would say, but on the other he couldn't hide his fondness for the little Seeker at all. He still can't, to be honest. But he's also rather jealous, which can make introductions to friendly acquaintances of A'nijah pretty rough. All in all though, most people tend to be accepting. @natstolemysocks

RELATIONSHIP ASKS

#ask #a'nijah tia #lea'li ohrun #collaboration asks #ty for the ask!

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amuseoleum · 27 days ago

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an independent & selective single muse blog, featuring original muse. penned by elle. ( 29+ she/her ) muse either follows supernatural lore / canon, or headcanons & lore written by myself. Multiverse unless previously discussed or stated.

name: mordecai voidwalker age: 300 & immortal species: shadow creature fc: os.car isaa.c

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exploring : pursuit of knowledge, consequences of hubris, isolation and loneliness, duality of nature, fate vs free will, escaping paths laid out, dangers of obsession, dark academia, relentless quests

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Backstory for Mordecai under cut ->

Long ago, in a distant land, there lived a man named Mordecai Voidwalker. Born into a family of renowned scholars and librarians, Mordecai possessed an insatiable curiosity for knowledge from a young age. He spent countless hours immersed in books, absorbing the wisdom and stories contained within their pages.

As he grew older, Mordecai’s thirst for knowledge turned into an obsession. He became consumed by the desire to uncover the secrets of the universe, to possess the ultimate knowledge that would grant him power beyond imagination. In his relentless pursuit, he delved into the world of forbidden tomes, ancient scrolls, and arcane texts, disregarding the warnings of his family and the wisdom of his ancestors.

One fateful night, while delving deep into a hidden chamber within the family library, Mordecai stumbled upon a rare and ancient grimoire. Unbeknownst to him, this particular book was cursed, imbued with the essence of a mischievous and vengeful trickster spirit known as the Thief of Destiny.

As Mordecai opened the grimoire, a surge of dark energy engulfed him, binding his fate to the curse of the Thief of Destiny. From that moment on, he became forever trapped between the shelves of libraries, his presence flickering in and out of existence like a phantom.

The curse bestowed upon Mordecai was twofold. Firstly, he was condemned to wander the interdimensional corridors of libraries, able to materialize only in the spaces between the bookshelves. He could observe, interact, and communicate with those who entered, but he could never leave the confines of the library. Secondly, the curse twisted his once noble nature, turning him into a cruel trickster. Malachi found pleasure in toying with the minds of unsuspecting library visitors, leading them astray, and playing wicked pranks upon them.

Over time, Mordecai came to be known as the Thief of Destiny, a ghostly figure rumored to haunt libraries across the realms. His reputation grew as tales of his malevolence spread among scholars and students, warning them to tread carefully within the hallowed halls of knowledge.

Despite his cursed existence, Mordecai retained his love for books and the pursuit of knowledge. The shelves between which he materialized became his domain, and he became an incredibly knowledgeable librarian, possessing an uncanny ability to locate and retrieve any book sought by those who dared to ask for his assistance. However, his aid always came at a price, as he delighted in exacting tricks and riddles upon those who sought his help, leaving them with valuable knowledge but also a bitter lesson in humility and the consequences of their actions.

And so, Mordecai Voidwalker, the Thief of Destiny, continues to haunt libraries, forever bound to the interstitial spaces of knowledge, both a seeker and a tormentor of those who dare to disturb his spectral domain.

#KnowledgeIsPower 📚 { open starter }#CursedWisdom 🔮 { ask memes }#LibraryAdventures 🏰 { locations & sights }#TricksterTales 🎭 { threads }#SecretsOfTheStacks 📖 { headcanon }

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transparentgentlemenmarker · 4 months ago

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After 10 years, the wife started to think their child looked strange so she decided to do a DNA test. She found out that the child is actually from completely different parents. Wife: Honey, I have something very serious to tell you Husband: What’s up? Wife: According to DNA test results, this is not our child. Husband: Well you don’t remember, do you? When we were leaving the hospital, we noticed that our baby had wet its diapers and you said: "Please go change the baby; I’ll wait for you here." That's when I went inside, got a clean one and left the dirty one there. Moral of the story dear Hiring managers never give someone a job without a proper training. Dear job seekers never work in a job that does not belong to you or you hate doing. It will be a waste of time. Something to think about

Après 10 ans, la femme a commencé à penser que leur enfant avait l'air bizarre, alors elle a décidé de faire un test ADN. Elle a découvert que l'enfant est en fait de parents complètement différents. Chéri, j'ai quelque chose de très grave à te dire son mari : oui quoi ? D'après les résultats du test ADN, ce n'est pas notre enfant, eh ben, tu ne t'en souviens plus, n'est-ce pas en sortant de l'hôpital, nous avons remarqué que notre bébé avait mouillé ses couches et tu as dit : "Va changer le bébé, je t'attends ici." C'est à ce moment-là que je suis entré, j'ai pris une couche propre et j'ai laissé la sale là-bas. Morale de l'histoire, les responsables du recrutement ne confient jamais un emploi à quelqu'un sans une formation adéquate les demandeurs d'emploi, ne travaillez jamais dans un emploi qui ne vous correspond pas ou que vous détestez faire. Ce serait une perte de temps. À méditer

#texte vie

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holiday-in-eorzea · 1 year ago

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Blade Of Night

Upon entering the Quicksand, the source of trouble was hard to miss. Another of the Lominsan marauders, though this one wore a covering on his head, and appeared to be more solidly built than his comrades. I assumed they signified him to be the leader of the troupe. Typical; leave the subordinates to do what they will outside in the heat, all while relaxing and drinking in shade and comfort. Although, it seemed something had riled him up, as he towered over the Lalafell waitress, shards of glass and remains of ale staining one of the nearby walls.

"Me poxy arse this is yer best brew! I’d sooner drink a pint o' me own piss than this swill!” the charming individual bellowed at the girl.

“I- I’m sorry! Just l-let me...”

The marauder raised his hand, as if to strike her. I called out. “Hey! What are you doing?!”

He paused, and turned to face me. “Just who the 'ells do ye think yer speakin' to, maggot!? I'm Pfarmurl the Driven, an' me an' me Bloody Marauders've been reavin' so long, mothers scare their children with tales about us!”

“It doesn’t matter who you are! I won’t allow harm to an innocent person, especially not over something so idiotic!”

The marauder scoffed, and stretched in an attempt to intimidate me. “Don't believe me words? Then I'll let me axe do the talkin'!” Sure enough, he began to reach for the wicked axe strapped to his back. In response, I moved towards my blade’s scabbard and prepared to draw.

Suddenly, a voice called out from a table behind us. “Oho, this is lively, even for the Quicksand. You two going to put on a show for us?” Both the marauder and I turned to see a rough looking man finishing a drink, dressed in a billowing red shirt, and loose pants; a long blade strapped to his hip.

“What's this? Another godsdamned fool? Show some respect when ye talk to...” the marauder started to say before the man in red cut him off.

“Pfarmurl the Driven, leader of a troupe of bloody mummers or some such. Aye, I heard you the first time - your voice carries quite well.” The man waved away his own interruption with a relaxed, casual air.

Pfarmurl, the marauder, took clear umbrage to the attitude. “Then unless ye want me to split yer skull with me axe, ye better-” He paused mid-sentence, taking a more measured look at the man’s sword. It was certainly imposing; wicked black spikes were worked into the shaping of the false edge, with runic lettering down the flat. My knowledge of languages failed to provide a translation.

“Th-That sword!” Pfarmurl stammered. “It couldn't be... Frenzy!? But only the Sword of Nald would - Bloody hells, it's you!”

The man in red smiled, but it was a predator’s grin; there was no joy in those eyes. “You know, I've never been one to stand back and watch. Mind if I join the fun?”

Pfarmurl held his hands out in defense, scared stiff. “B-B-Beggin' yer pardon, sir!” was as much as he got out before turning tail and running as fast as he could muster.

The man in red just sighed, and scratched at the back of his head. “Why do they always do that...? Looks like it's just you and me.” I once again reached for my sword, as he laughed, face softening. “No no, I didn’t mean to suggest we fight. I merely wanted to compliment you. Standing up to that Lominsan was quite brave of you—and quite foolish.”

“I was simply doing my duty; one that I would hope anyone would do likewise, but I know many don’t.” I replied, relaxing my posture; noticing how much I had been tensing only as the muscles released.

“I think I like you, gladiator. Name's Aldis, and I'd buy you a drink, but I'm afraid I just spent the last of my coin.” The man gestured to his now empty mug.

“That’s alright. I’m not much of one for drink, but thank you for the offer regardless. I’m Liya.”

“Liya, huh? I used to be a young gladiator like you. Back then, I...” Aldis trailed off, as if lost in a memory, but quickly returned to the present. “Ah, but that hardly concerns you. These days I'm just an explorer of the unexplored, a seeker of as-yet-unknown experiences...” Aldis sighed wistfully and looked towards the ceiling. “...Like that beautiful stranger keeping my bed warm right now. Gods, I've missed this city; this wonderful desert jewel of debauchery and sin. Now, if you'll excuse me.” Thankfully, he either didn’t notice, or at least didn’t call attention to the reddening of my cheeks as he made his way towards the interior stairs.

I took a brief moment to compose myself, and made my way over to Mistress Momodi, the proprietor. “Is everything alright now, M- Momodi?” I had to catch myself of speaking out of habit before inadvertently insulting her again. Using one’s title was customary at home, but she had already indicated her preference.

“It’s fine now that seadog’s been run off. I swear, if I hadn't seen Aldis with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it was him. Everyone here thought he died years ago.” She let out a dejected breath. “Listen, Liya. Do me a favor and don't tell Mylla about meetin' Aldis, alright? She doesn't need this sort of drama.”

“Why? Is there something I should know about? He’s not a threat, is he?”

Momodi shook her head. “Well...let's just say some folk ain't good for one another. If you catch my meanin’”

“Ah, like that. Well, in that case, I don’t think I need to include that detail when I return to Mylla about the job.”

“My thanks about that. I suspected the guild would be quick to dispatch someone, and I had even money on it bein’ you. Those mercenaries occasionally keep the peace in these parts, but their patrols seem to come round as they feel. I’ve sent a runner ahead to Mylla about your performance here and from what I could gather from outside. It’s good to have someone that cares handy.” She smiled and gave a cheeky wink. “Now, you must be thirsty, havin’ to lug that armor around in this heat; how about a drink?”

I was instantly reminded of the cracking of my lips, and the rasp of my throat. It had been far too long since I wore my own skin, and I considered myself lucky to be relieved of the need of arms and armour in my life. Even if it meant needing to become acquainted with them after the fact. “A cup of water would certainly be appreciated, I admit.”

“No freebies this time!” Momodi called over her shoulder, already pouring the cool, clear liquid from a jug. She said it with the tone of a teasing joke, so I chose to take it as such. She passed the cup across the counter, and I returned the favour with a small pinch of coins from my pouch, still unsure about the currency and its value. Momodi took one and pushed the others back. On inspection, I noted she had effectively charged 3 of their “gil” for the water, though I wasn’t sure if that was a reduced price, inflated, or simply the standard rate. As I had no reason to argue, I accepted the fare and returned the remaining coins to their place.

Though the respite from the heat was welcome, I still had my duty to accomplish, so begrudgingly I exited the cool interior of the Quicksand, to traverse the streets of Ul’dah back to the Gladiator’s Guild. I passed the returning messenger on the way, exchanging a brief look of acknowledgment as they went on their way.

Mylla was in her customary position, overseeing the guild members training with their wooden blades. I gave a salute, but she was quicker than I in starting the conversation.

“I've already heard of your exploits at the Quicksand, Liya. You did well to send those marauders packing. I wish I could say we've heard the last of them. Alas, we've received reports of axe-wielding raiders assaulting merchants traveling through Scorpion Crossing.” She shook her head lightly in disgust.

“They move quickly then. Did they already have this planned as a distraction?”

A frown crossed the guildmaster’s face. “It seems words will not suffice. after all. I want you to finish what you've begun, Liya. Head to westem Thanalan and see that Pfarmurl fellow and all those who have shared in his crimes never trouble the people of Ul'dah again.”

“To what end, guildmaster?”

“I trust your judgment, and your ability. Should it come to it, I have arranged for your prior allowances with the Brass Blades to extend further, under my authority. No crime would be decreed if it were a necessary step.” Our eyes met, as if the full meaning of her statement was conveyed through vision alone.

“I will do my best, and hopefully it does not come to that.”

Mylla nodded, a grim demeanour colouring the expression. “Good. Then, be off. The trade outpost of Scorpion Crossing is the nearest settlement in the area. I advise asking there for more precise information.”

I gave a crisp salute, the habit still forcing itself from my training, and exited the guildhall. The western gate, identified as the Gate of the Sultana was not far from the guild, as I passed through the streets into the afternoon sun. The weather was cooling, but still warmer than I would typically prefer. The more temperate climate of Ravnica had caused more of an adjustment than I thought. I exhaled as of to chase the heat away, and set off.

Everywhere I looked as I walked reminded me of home, of Melenas. Though the climate here was harsher, the wildlife and greenery had adapted well. Farming had always been somewhat of a struggle; trying to find suitable groundwater sources to feed our crops and what livestock could manage. I could imagine the soil here would handle thoumfruit and jazar in greater abundance. I shook my head; Kolya was insistent on my learning the proper names of things, least of all for his understanding; garlic and carrot. The words still felt foreign in my mind, but to his credit, the names he used seemed to be more common across a number of planes compared to my own. Of course, getting the seeds here was an entirely separate issue; while inorganic materials traveled the Blind Eternities without issue, the same could not be said of more natural things. I had tried to retrieve some herbs for baking, only to find handfuls of dust on my arrival.

By the time I had made it to the outpost, the sun was all but swallowed by the horizon, as dusk swiftly approached. Asking around, it seemed that accommodations could be found, as it was a popular trade route, and merchants were often passing through. It was dangerous to continue in the darkness of the open road, with unknown terrain, strange wildlife, and even knowing that my quarry was out there somewhere, so I opted to ask about a bed for the night. Much easier to seek people by light of day, and if they wanted easy prey of merchant caravans, they’d be unlikely to move on. Though, that would also solve the issue. The beds were rough cots, clearly sourced from military surplus despite the wealth of the city and surrounds. Not much in terms of comfort, but there was a lot to be said for the relative safety and security offered by the fortifications made to the outpost, and by the Brass Blades stationed by the gates on regular rotation. Memories of having to do much the same in prior lives came to mind, as I felt a touch of guilt of not envying their position.

The night was still early, so folks had gathered near the center of the outpost to share tales of the road, both tall and mundane, and to come together to share meals, showing more of a community than I had gotten from just a general impression of the city proper’s populace. On one side, there was a merchant complaining about misplaced packages from his shipment, asking his compatriots to assist in locating them overnight and subsequently being laughed off, with assurances that there was plenty of time in the morning for that. On the other, one of the established traders of the outpost told tales of living plants, whose blood had such apparent power as to keep a person from appearing to age. I nearly scoffed myself, before remembering that I knew practically nothing about this plane, so for all I knew, it could very well be true. I’d certainly experienced enough things I had thought mere stories if I thought about them at all prior to my execution. Soon though, the merriment wound down, as caravan leaders took to rest for the day ahead, and others made themselves weary; from the day’s labour or drink, I do not know which. I found my way to my allotted cot, removed the heavy chain coat and highboots, and allowed what I had come to appreciate in the gentle ache of a healthy exertion take my mind in slumber.

Another morning, and another push against my spark. And unfortunately, another nullified response. Not that I would necessarily abandon people in need, but it was always useful to know whether you had a backup plan if required. I sourced a light morning meal from one of the departing caravans, and had managed to eat most of it before a yell could be heard from the gates leading away from the city.

#mtg oc #fanwalker #ffxiv rp #Liya al-Amundi #long post #fiction

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