#I am but a wee magpie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

furowrites · 1 year

Text

Patronus Charm + Amortentia Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons (ft. Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt & Garreth Weasley)

i am reviving this account, it turns out :)

my credentials for these headcanons? i watch the hp movies every time i’m sick, and i’m halfway through the books. there you go

my writing has grown a bit rusty, please forgive <3

Sebastian Sallow

I am adamant about Sebastian’s Patronus Charm being a wild horse; specifically a wild one, regardless of breed

There’s something about the untamed pride and stubbornness about horses in the wild that make them very suitable to be his Patronus

Also wild horses have extremely finicky and complex social hierarchy and behaviors, so in my opinion, it really works

I believe the scents Sebastian would smell in his Amortentia include a dash of cinnamon, plain and simple; a dusty puff that surges from a book that hasn’t been opened in years; and the burn of brazier coals

(We know Sebastian is always sneaking around, and he is often overcome with the rush of adrenaline and triumph after being successful in his mischief, whilst braziers light the paths of the night, be it along Hogwarts dungeons and passages, or pathways cutting across the highlands)

(He has mentioned before how his parents had instilled in him an appreciation for books, and that in addition to his particular penchant for slipping into the Restricted Section, I conclude the clammy, dusty smell caught within a dated book may hit a weak spot for him)

(This might be a quite biased perspective, but cinnamon tends to be a spice that one very occasionally sprinkles on their food or drink, and he believes it takes a specific type of rowdiness to add it onto one’s tea, or butterbeer. When he was but a wee little third-year, Sebastian overheard a few older Hogwarts students in The Three Broomsticks—who all happened to be girls he found quite pretty—and one of them jokingly said something along the lines of “only fine-looking women put cinnamon in their butterbeer.” For some reason, it stuck with him forever)

Ominis Gaunt

It took me a while to figure this one out, but then it hit me like a train: his Patronus is a swan!

It’s almost so obvious: swans move with such grace and elegance, both in flight and on water; their feathers are soft and add great quality to many accessories

They also mate for life and are very devoted partners, which I believe to be very plausible for Ominis

Swans have always been a symbol of romanticism, and I happen to think Ominis can be, once he is close and comfortable enough with someone, quite doting and romantic

To Ominis, Amortentia has a verdant, grassy must; it also has delicate, flowery hints; and lastly, the smokey trail of a train

(It would perhaps be easy to assume Ominis would smell something like bergamot, or jasmine, which he could easily associate with the afternoon tea at the Gaunt estate; however, I believe due to the hurt that regularly came with his family’s company, it would be more likely for him to find solace in the scents he could attribute to the presence of those who lived around him; for instance, fresh garden trims left by the greenskeeper, or the hay being shoveled by the stableboy)

(Listen, if there’s one thing Ominis is unapologetically a spoiled, rich kid about, it’s tastefully-scented silks of linen or robes, placed neatly at the end of his bed, and whether it’s honeysuckle or violets or lemongrass, he can definitely find it wafting somewhere in his Amortentia)

(When Ominis was young, the first time he rode a train was rather dreadful—it was so, so loud, what with the chooing and chuffing and the buzzing crowd—but by the time he was to board the Hogwarts Express for his First Year, he had grown to love it; thus the faint, smokey trace of creosote in there)

Garreth Weasley

His Patronus Charm is shaped after a magpie, and there’s several reasons behind this logic

First, magpies are very clever, unafraid of mischief, and they can laugh!

They’re notorious thieves by nature, too (lol)

Also, and more crucially, in my opinion, magpies receive widely ranging interpretations in European folklore; according to a superstitious, traditional nursery rhyme, ‘One for Sorrow,’ magpies are said to be an omen for wildly differing things, depending on how many you come across (‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told’)

I interpret Garreth to be someone quite misunderstood by his schoolmates—cherished by some, detested by others, and everything in between—he’s funny and talented, and he has the kind of effortless charm that you either wholly captivated by, or it peeves you to no end

For Garreth I only have two distinct smells I firmly believe he would find in Amortentia (perhaps the constant inhaling of potion fumes has worn his nose quite a bit): apple cider and asphodel leaves, and these are a bit straightforward in my reasoning, as he himself is towards what appeals to him

(the sour, sharp smell of fermented apples easily conflates with that of butterbeer, but is slightly sweeter. During the summer breaks between his first few years in Hogwarts, apple cider was the only ‘experiment’ his family allowed him to get away with at home, and so it is inevitably reminiscent of early mornings where he would rush through breakfast in order to burst into his family’s shed to check the results of his work)

(asphodel grows in Hogwarts grounds, and its leaves and roots are used in the creation of potions such as Wiggenweld and Draught of Living Death, both of which take a practiced, precise hand to perfect)

i'd love to hear your feedback! and if these inspire you at all to include them in your own writing at all (pardon my being presumptuous), i would ask that you please tag me! i would be immensely flattered!

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy headcanons #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow headcanons #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt headcanons #garreth weasley #garreth weasley headcanons #furowrites

129 notes · View notes

thebirdandhersong · 1 year

Note

hugging you hugging you hugging you

Here is a photo of a day with the merest hint of a rainbow, in hopes it might cheer you up even a very tiny bit

Also a dear wee magpie child who was gallivanting within range of my camera

And last but not least - because I was scrolling through my photos and found this one, to my own surprise -

I do hope these cheer you up and don't make you merely look away in distaste or weariness.... hugs and prayers for you dear heart <3 and I hope you can get rest <3

My dear Catkin, this is so deeply appreciated :') the hidden rainbow is my favourite (though the birds are GORGEOUS too)! There's something beautiful about the fact that you need to take a second to really look in order to see it! Your eyes have to adjust to look for the hidden beauty (which! Isn't that just like what we have to do in our daily lives, too!)

Thank you, my dear :) I am in fact quite cheered up! By your lovely message and by the morning I woke up to. Turns out joy DOES come in the morning, even when the night was full of panic and anxious thoughts.

#take care and have a lovely day! thank you again :D #dear friend #happy things

9 notes · View notes

elaine4queen · 2 years

Text

Later on I take the dog to St Anne’s because she hasn’t had a good run for a couple of days and it’s stopped raining. There’s a fruit and veg stall set up there on a Friday, and Lola takes a bit too much interest in it - she’s not above stealing a carrot and I don’t want her weeing on anything.

I encourage her to

Come out of there!

And I don’t know what else I said, but a woman took the time to ask me

Are you speaking to your dog in English?

I say yes, momentarily confused

And she admonishes me

They don’t understand!

I wonder what language she thinks I should be speaking to Lola in. I know that what she means is there’s no point in talking to a dog in sentences, but I disagree quite strongly. Just because dogs don’t talk the same way we do doesn’t mean they don’t get the vibe or even the gist of what we’re saying, and I know that my old dog, Poppet had quite a large vocabulary. She understood lots of stand alone words including ones that are quite abstract like friend.

I met a bloke one time on a dog walk who told me about his deaf Rottie. He said that before he went deaf he taught him sign language so he could still call him in the park, and so on. I do some sign language with Lola and she understands it fine. Dogs understand more than you think. Their lives are spent studying us.

***

This morning is dry. I need a bath but I want to get the dog walk done first so I put on yesterday’s clothes without washing. The dog wanted to go to Palmeira and Adelaide and I fell into conversation with a man who lives on Palmeira. He told me how bad the drainage is and how precarious the gardens are, bolstered as they are by a wall, which could easily be undermined. He’d lived here for years and knew a lot about the gardens. One thing that I like about them is that the people who live there do quite a bit to look after them. I don’t think that they should have to, though certainly the council services are cut to the bone, but just that between the gardening and the dogs there’s a strong community there. I’d like to live on Adelaide, ideally. Not that there’s anything wrong with where I am.

I’ve run my bath and am lying on the bed typing this and Lola’s big lunk of a head is lying on my left arm. She’s obviously sated, which is good.

***

Are you going to Adelaide tomorrow?

I ask Frankie. The bloke I met earlier told me there was going to be a dog show there. I wouldn’t have been able to bring Lola last year, she’d have been aggy with the other dogs, but now I think she’d like it.

I write the bit above just before Frankie arrives with her dog Kip, and then later ask her if she wants to hear some more of what I’ve been writing, and that bit is at the end, which delights her. I did it on purpose.

***

Sunday is sunny. Lola needs an early outing, so midday is too late for a first walk. My foot’s still sore. I think it might be a bunion after all. So I decide to drive to the beach again because I can write there and Lola will entertain herself. I take the turning for Lex’s because even though I’m not starving I want the sausage roll and a coffee.

She says the sausage roll will have to be cold because she’s only just turned the grill on. I make a disappointed noise and she suggests the microwave.

Just for a little minute, to take the edge off?

I ask.

I wolf the roll and decide the cafe has too many temptations and hazards for Lola so I take my coffee onto the beach and sit down on one of the wave like mounds of pebbles.

For some reason it’s ravens or crows who dominate the cafes here - not sure which? They’re quite big. The gulls don’t get a look in. I noticed the other day in the rain that they hang out at Rockwater too. I don’t hate gulls but I actively like corvids. I had a magpie visitor when I had a bird cafe on my window ledge in Bethnal Green.

It’s not comfy sitting on pebbles so I take my jacket off to sit on. I’m only wearing a vest underneath. Although the sun is hot there’s a cool breeze which feels nice on my arms. I put my beanie on so I can stay warm.

Lola suddenly kisses me fervently so I can only assume she’s having a good time.

On the way here the roads were pretty empty but someone decided to drive right up my arse.

Enjoy your speeding ticket ya drongo!

I think. This must have been because of listening to Helen Garner. She doesn’t use that word though. It’s surfaced in my brain after decades of dormancy. I picked it up from watching Neighbours int the 80s.

Despite the cold I roll over onto my front to keep writing and my legs are pitted with cold. Lola’s beside me chewing a feather. The tide is out again and cronching lazily.

My view now is over dunes of pebbles - a row of beach huts and the hedge behind them, and the roof of Lex’s and a handful of banners advertising beer, coke, Smarites ice cream and the like.

Lola watched a family with a toddler. She likes small children.

Ya wanna walk?

I ask her, and she snaps out of her fugue.

#parklife #beach writing #original writing #actually adhd #actually autistic #brighton #dog #dogwalk #hoveactually #hove #driving #drongo #Helen Garner #Neighbours #pebbles #Lex's #cafe #London #bethnal green

0 notes

opinionatedoctopus · 3 years

Text

My sister called me the Howl to her Sophie which would ordinarily be super sweet, but then she added on that it was in the context of cleaning and I’ve never been so offended at the truth in my LIFE.

#howls moving castle #howlsophie #wizard howl #howl jenkins pendragon #howl's moving castle #howlscastle #howls room was a beautiful glittering mess #I want it #I am but a wee magpie #my sister is whatever animal regularly cleans idk #sisterly love #roasted #the shade #I am devastated

153 notes · View notes

nerime · 4 years

Photo

I don’t paint much anymore, but I am trying to get back into the groove. My necromancer OC Sadie

#magpie #necromancer #dark elf #dnd #d&d oc #possibly though not explicitly lmao #would love to play as her tho :0 #arto #i am always nervous about posting my ocs here #too big of a void to yell into idk #anyway wee enjoy #choker inspired by one i actually own (by mystery creation check her out)

81 notes · View notes

theleadbull · 3 years

Note

you have a masters degree in latin, a DEAD LANGUAGE because of MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE FRERARD FANFICTION UNHOLYVERSE BY BEXLESS?

okay so i was really hoping someone would ask about this because it’s a gaud-level anecdote. literally my entire career is because of unholyverse.

tiny 17yo me was in college with literally no idea what i wanted to do in life beyond “teach” but with consistent internet access for the first time (another long story) and finally FINALLY able to use the fabled music streaming services i’d only dreamt of as a wee child. and one thing led to another and i’m deep in a redux of my emo phase, running a bandom blog, and writing and reading mcr fanfiction that is thankfully lost to the void of orphan_account on ao3.

it is from this time period that my career has its origins.

you see, i went to an honors college (of course i did) and it had a hefty 4-consecutive-semester foreign language requirement. any number of languages were offered, but i’m from texas and was a cool slacker my first year before the Frerard Time, so i was planning to take spanish for the easy A+ and just forget about it.

and then i read unholyverse.

another thing you should know about me: i am a huge lore nerd. i have a brain like a magpie that hoards shiny things, and any kind of origin story or mythos just ends up on display in its little autistic brain nest.

so i, raised an atheist, read unholyverse and become absolutely fixated on catholicism. like. obsessed with catholicism. in true high-functioning asd fashion, this blossoms into me taking class after class on ancient and medieval religion. i’m in a roster of classes on medieval islamic and christian philosophy, ancient greek philosophy, the history of christianity in russia, you name it.

but oh, that pesky language requirement.

to properly Study the things i’m studying, you need to know a laundry list of dead languages including but not limited to ancient greek, classical latin, and sanskrit.

so my ass signs up for ancient greek. oh, it’s to meet the language requirement.

but i could. i could do a minor in ancient languages. i could do that.

so i sign up for latin.

at this point i’m 19 years old taking 24 hours of classes. 12 of them are unholyverse, 2 are electives, and the other 10 are core requirements.

i graduate summa with a minor in medieval philosophy, a minor in ancient languages, and having successfully defended my literal thesis on early christian heresy, for which i spent several months of my life slogging through ancient greek, latin, and tolkien (blessedly in english).

i go on to graduate school in classics, where i say “fuck greek” because i’ve decided i want to teach latin, and all the cool courses on church fathers and paleography and whatnot are taught in latin anyway.

i graduate that with a 4.0 and a certification to teach. i am immediately headhunted by schools, including the one i teach at now.

and that is how unholyverse is responsible for my career.

#me #long post #ask #anotherknifeinmyhands #classics #thesis #unholyverse #writing this felt like summarizing the emo version of legally blonde

69 notes · View notes

sneez · 3 years

Note

hello darling ned today me and @duskodair went to visit Killerton House (it was lovely!!) and they had a little bit of info up about the house during the civil wars, including the fun fact that oliver cromwell stayed there for a wee bit - on the bus home we did quite a bit of wondering as to whether mr fairfax may have stayed there as well, would you know the answer?? (i think he wouldve liked the gardens a lot, they are very beautiful) Truely the fairfax brainrot is catching! in the best way <3

hello my dearest magpie!!! ❤️❤️❤️ that sounds like a marvellous trip, i am so glad that you had a nice time :-D i would love to visit killerton house someday! i shall add it to my ever-growing list of castles and stately homes to visit......i am slowly working my way through it!

with regard to your question, i have done some investigation and would tentatively guess that whilst i do not believe that fairfax ever stayed in killerton house itself, he certainly did stay in the adjacent estate of columbjohn, one mile west, in 1642 and again in 1646. both estates were owned by the acland family, who were aligned with the royalists: sir john acland raised two regiments for the king and used columbjohn as a garrison for royalist troops until 1645, when it moved into parliamentarian hands. (there is an interesting quote by the earl of clarendon which describes the significance of the mansion in the war effort: 'devonshire was left in a very unsafe posture: there being only a small party at columb-john, a house of sir john ackland's, three miles off exeter, to control the power of that city, where the earl of stamford was; and to dispute not only with any commotion that might happen in the country, but with any power that might arrive by sea'.)

fairfax (and cromwell, who stayed in columbjohn as well as killerton) spent some time there during the first civil war, using it as his headquarters in march 1646 during the siege of essex, which ended in april. sir john acland's wife actually wrote to cromwell that she 'received such ample testimony of your love when you were pleased to quarter at my house as that i cannot sufficiently express my thankfulness for the same', which is nice, although i expect she was less pleased by the fact that parliament had confiscated her house. sir john acland had to pay a hefty fine to regain his estates (the fourth largest in devon, ouch), but he conveniently died in 1647 so he didn't have to deal with it. both estates, killerton and columbjohn, were subsequently passed down through the family until sir hugh acland, the fifth baronet, moved his principal seat to killerton and left columbjohn to fall into disrepair. it was largely destroyed in the mid-eighteenth century, but the chapel was left untouched (possibly because sir john acland, unhelpfully a different sir john acland to before, had endowed it with an inviolable endowment of £25 per annum 'for the encouragement of a chaplain to preach and read prayers in it every sabbath day'. i bet sir hugh was grumpy about that). the chapel was restored in 1851 by arthur henry dyke acland, so you might have seen it on your way to and from the house? otherwise very little remains of the original estate except the entrance archway to the former gatehouse, which you can see, along with the chapel in the distance, in this picture:

i expect fairfax rode through this gate! here is the chapel again in a watercolour from 1800 by the reverend john swete:

that is a very unnecessarily long answer to your question, but to put it in short: i don't think fairfax ever stayed at killerton, but he was definitely a stone's throw away! he also may well have visited the house even if he wasn't officially stationed there. cromwell and fairfax sleepover at killerton house :-D i hope that gives you enough of an idea my dearest magpie. i would love to think that fairfax had the chance to walk around the gardens (from the pictures i think he would have liked them very much indeed!), but i expect he was too occupied with Besieging and Signing Documents to appreciate the flowers. perhaps if he had a quiet day he might have gone for an amble......i shall continue to imagine so :-) ❤️❤️❤️

#i love you magpie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i love you so much i love you so much #i am so sorry i went on for such a long time i know this is far more detail than you asked for i cannot help myself #i am so happy that you thought of fairfax........i am so happy........i love you tremendously #someday i shall visit killerton and have a look for myself :-D and perhaps see if i can find the chapel! i love you ❤️❤️❤️#asks #fairfax

14 notes · View notes

lovinlikeloki · 3 years

Text

The Lone Wolf

Masterlist // 08

Warnings: Swearing, vague wound description, vague stitching description (ask to tag)

Word Count: 3.6k

I’m walking around Manhattan, getting familiar with the lay of the land, especially if I’m gonna be living here for a while. Fair enough, I know a good bit about the place thanks to both El and Jones, but there’s nothing like some good first-hand experience.

I pass by a few bars, and a few shops, I try to take a mental note of where I am. Then I see the street corner I’m getting to, it’s 11th and 49th, if I remember correctly, Jones told me that this is where sketchy shit happens. I make a note of the people there, mostly the younger ones and try to remember them. If I’m gonna be here for a while then I may as well try to turn some people’s lives around, especially the people who have a lot of life ahead of them, they have a lot to live for.

Eventually I find myself in Queens, if I’m looking around the terrain then the other boroughs are definitely in NY and I’ll be looking out for them too. What’s the point of just micromanaging 25 blocks in Manhattan, I’m not Matt. Also the Spider-Dude said he was from Queens, who knows, I might run into him.

I’m walking down the street when I see a group of magpies, I immediately salute and begin counting them. What can I say, I grew up in one of the most superstitious countries I can think of. As I count them I say the rhyme under my breath.

“One for sorrow... two for joy... three for a girl... four for a boy...” there’s four of them.

Four. Four for a boy? Well I’m certainly not pregnant so that can only mean... nope. No boyfriends. No boyfriends. Not happening.

I ignore the niggling feeling of knowing how these superstitions usually end up true and keep walking. I then pass by an alleyway, just as I pass it I hear a noise. I walk back a few paces and hear the groaning again, and then silence.

I look around me, making sure I know all the exits before walking down the alleyway, then I see it. A body covered in red and blue and dirt. It’s the Arachnid-kid.

When I get a little closer I see that his mask is askew, the tear in the suit and that he’s bleeding. I also see that he’s not moving. Then I do what anyone else would do. I kick his leg to see if he’s dead.

“Uugghhhhh,” he groans and I can tell that he’s perfectly fine... aside from the gaping wound in his side that is.

“You a’right, sur?” I ask and he gasps, grabbing at his mask and trying to cover his face.

“Lad,” I say a bit louder, “It’s me, ye muppet. Calm yerself.”

“Oh, woah, wait-“ he says, sitting up and leaning on his elbows. “Wait you’re the- you’re the girl from Germany.”

“Aye, aye I am. That’s what I’m telling ye, you twat. Now here, do ye need some help, you seem to have an extra pocket,” I say, pointing to his wound that seems like he was stabbed.

“Oh, yeah, help would be nice,” he says and I reach out a hand, pulling him up. “Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in jail? Should I call someone? Like the cops or Mr. Stark? Wait, why would you even tell me that, I’m gonna-“

“Pump the breaks, boss,” I say, catching his wrist again in a tight grip. “I’m here de meet with yer precious Stark. I’m just... taking a few, um, laethanta saoire, or – what do yous American’s call them? – vacation days,” I say in a very exaggerated American accent.

“Va- vacation days?” he asks, sounding a little stunned which, honestly, I don’t blame him for. “What do you mean?”

“Well, since I’m like an ‘international criminal’ now or something, I can’t go home to my friends so, thanks for that,” I say, giving two sarcastic finger guns, “Now I’m gonny stay in your wee United States while the boss man vouches for me, or at least that’s what Wanda says he’ll do. I’m on permanent holiday at the minute.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense, I guess,” he says, still sounding confused.

“Anyway, extra pocket?” I say, poking his side.

“Ow, that hurts,” he complains.

“Well no shit, Spidey,” I say, “So do we have a special nurse who fixes us up no questions asked or will I be in your room with an emergency sewing kit stitching you up?” I raise an eyebrow and he stares at me.

“Why do you want to help me,” he asks slowly, “I mean I helped put you in jail."

“Ocean jail, actually. Also because you’re clearly just a dumbass kid,” I say before realising that he’s doing nothing to stem the blood flow, “Oh Jesus, would ye put pressure on your stab wound for Christ’s sake. Now where are we going? Another shady alleyway? Back door of a hospital? Or your house?”

He does as he’s told and tells me that we’re going to his place, but first I have to stand guard while he changes. I stand just before the entrance of the alley and make sure no one looks in. But no one does. Because who is looking down alleyways randomly? I mean this seems like one of the better neighbourhoods from what I’ve seen.

He’s now in jeans and a jumper and I finally get to see the boy’s face. He’s got brown hair and nice chestnut brown eyes, he’s definitely cute, I’ll give him that.

“So, what’s your name,” I ask and he takes a double glance.

“It’s, uh, Peter, Peter Parker, and yours- yours is, um, what’s yours?” he stammers.

“MacBhfloscaidh, Fianna MacBhfloscaidh,” I say holding out my hand to shake his, which he takes and I can feel his hand shaking.

“So, where we going?” I ask as he turns around a street corner.

“We’re going to my apartment,” he tells me, “It’s another two blocks from here.”

“Are you still keeping pressure on that wound, Parker? I don’t need you fainting on me from blood loss.”

“Yeah, yeah I hear ya,” he says, holding his side.

“Why...” I trail off, trying to find the confidence to ask. “Why are you trusting me so blindly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last time you saw me we were scrappin’ in another country. Why are you just trusting me with your face, to give you medical help? Why do you trust me?” I emphasise. I’ve never had someone trust me so easily, and never in my life have I trusted someone like this.

“I guess I can tell that you wanna be a good person,” he shrugs before hissing in pain. “You’ve already helped me a little bit and you seem cool.”

I think these words over, looking away from him as a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. It’s nice and refreshing for someone to be so easy to win over, but the kid needs to be careful, I mean trust is something that should be earned, not given because someone ‘seems cool’ but whatever, I’ll let the wee boy live his life.

We get to his apartment and he opens the door slowly, calling for his aunt to see if she’s home. When he gets no reply he lets me in and I scan the apartment. He tells me that he’s going to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and I sit on the couch, look at all of the DVD and VHS cases below the TV. Something that sparks my interest is the lack of Star Wars and the abundance of Star Trek movies and boxsets sitting there.

He comes back and sets the box on the coffee table. I tell him to take off his jumper and he blushes; I’m talking fully red face and all I can do is sigh. I pull up the bottom of his sweater and hand it to him while I thread the needle.

“Now this is going to hurt,” I warn him, “Do you want a hairbrush to bite on or something?”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me this won’t hurt?” he asks.

“No, I’m not gonny lie de ye. Now, hairbrush?”

“I- I think so,” he admits.

“Where will it be?” I ask, putting his hand on the wound yet again to stop the blood for now.

“Second drawer down in the cabinet in the bathroom,” he tells me and I go to get it. When I return he’s definitely looking paler and I sigh.

I put the hairbrush handle in his mouth and lift his hand from the bloody wound. I hold the side of the cut together with one hand while I stab the needle through his skin, the half-shriek that leaves the boys mouth is almost girly but I have no time to laugh. I pull it out the other side of the cut and begin the next stitch. By the time I’m finished the wound is closed and Peter has ten stitches in his abdomen.

I then take a piece of gauze and place it on top of the stitches and use medical tape to keep it in place. I take the hairbrush out of his mouth and see the colour come about his face a bit more.

“You alright there, Parker?” I ask with a small smirk on my face.

“Yeah, I’m much better now, thanks,” Peter smiles back.

“Well, I’m meeting with someone soon so... I hafte shift me arse. Bye, enjoy not having a stomach like the ozone layer,” I say, making my way to the door.

He takes a second of processing what I just said before smiling, eyebrows furrowed, “Because it has a hole?”

“Because it has a hole,” I confirm. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” I say again, closing the door behind me.

Well that was an experience.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

I said I’d meet Jones at 3.30pm, it’s round about then now so she’ll probably be there by the time I get there.

I rush through the streets, get on a bus, and get to one street then I get on another and after about four buses I get to Hell’s Kitchen again. Then I get to the coffee shop I said I’d meet her at and see her sitting at a table with a drink in front of her.

I push the door open and sit down at the table across from her, “Hey, Jessica, what’s up?”

“I’m good, Fian, how are you?” she replies.

“I’m alright, life’s been a rollercoaster at the minute. Saw me sister, fought Avengers, became an international criminal, y’know, the usual,” I shrug.

“Damn, you’ve been busy,” she almost smirks at me. “It’s strange seeing you in person again, it’s been what, a year?”

“Yeah, I’m like 16 now,” I half-laugh.

“Jeez kid, you are still way too young for this stuff,” Jess sighs.

“Life’s shit, what can I do?”

“Fair, fair. You should go and order.”

I go to the counter and ask for a triple red eye, the barista looks at me a little concerned but when I give her a dead stare she just turns around and gets to making the coffee with three shots of blonde expresso. I hand her the money and she hands me the drink, a weary look still on her face.

“You’re not gonna grow much more if you keep drinking those,” Jessica nags.

“Lady, I’m grand being 5’4” for the rest of my life. Height is not a concern for me, I am five feet and four inches of pure unconcentrated rage and I will happily live my life like that.”

Jessica just shakes her head, unfazed by the slight craziness I just expressed.

“Anyways, how’s your life, what have you been up de?” I ask.

“You know, it’s been whatever. I met a couple of other enhanced, not just Luke. I met a guy who called himself the Iron Fist, I also met Daredevil so you know, whatever.”

“Wait, you know Matt?” I ask shocked.

“Yeah, wait- how do you know Matt?” she questions back and I take a sip of my coffee.

“He’s the one I’m staying wi’ at the minute. Because I canny be arsed to go and drop my grudge ‘gainst Stark just yet. Seriously you know Matt?”

“Yeah, we, uh, we helped take down this shadow organisation a couple of months ago,” Jones says nonchalantly.

“Ah, of course, typical Tuesday in May,” I nod my head, taking another sip of my coffee. We sit in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only noise between us is us drinking out coffees, mine way too caffeinated for someone of my age and hers probably spiked with some whiskey.

I scan the room, seeing couples smiling and laughing with each other, I see two teenagers, probably on a first date based on the nervousness they seem to radiate. I see a group of friends joking and kidding about, it kinda makes me feel a little homesick, I miss Orlaith and the lads.

Eventually Jones breaks out silence, “So... you have to thrash it out with the rich guy?”

I take a gulp of my coffee, trying to delay my need to answer, “Yeah, Wands says he’ll be able to get me a normal-ish life. Might be able to backtrack the whole ‘war-criminal’ thing or whatever.”

“But you’re not too fond of the idea?” she says with a questioning tone.

“Clearly not. You know rightly I’m not.”

“I get it, kid, I do,” she sighs, “But you have to move on. It’s been a year, hasn’t it. I know it hurts, but I won’t stop hurting until you let it stop hurting.”

“Wow, that was something really deep and profound coming from the lass that will just drop ‘er trousers and go de sleep in what she’s wearing,” I joke.

“See this is why we don’t talk much,” she sighs, vaguely pointing to me.

“Fine, I’ll say something deep and profound now, will that make you happy?”

“How do you tell someone that you want to hit them in the face with a brick?” she asks.

“One wishes to acquaint your facial features with a fundamental item used in building walls, repeatedly,” I smirk, knowing that she was just referencing a Tumblr post, it still wows me that she has Tumblr.

We talk for a while longer before Jones has to go, she has a case to close and I have to get back to Matt’s.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

I’m back at Matt’s and searching through his cupboards, everything has a braille label and honestly I think that’s kinda cool, I’d love to add braille to my index of languages. When I decide what I want I sigh and end up leaving to go to the shop.

I return back with my packet of salt and vinegar crisps (chips if you really want to Americanise it) and go back into the kitchen. I get the loaf of bread out of the cupboard and begin to butter two slices, then I crush the crisps with the bag still closed and then begin to spread the crushed crisps on one slice before putting the other on top. I cut the sandwich in half and smile, it’s a little slice of home.

I sit on the sofa and munch on my crisp sandwich while doing the mental math to figure out what time it is back home. It’s about 4.45pm right now which makes it nearly ten at night in Ireland.

I slide a text Orlaith’s way and she replies almost instantly. She ready for a call and a smile finds its place on my face fairly quickly.

“Haigh Fianna, cad é mar atá?” Orlaith asks.

(Hi Fianna, how’s it going?)

“Táim I gceart, a chara, cad é fuit?” I reply

(I’m fine, my friend, what about you?)

“Tá mé ar dóigh. Glacaim nár chuala tú faoi Séimí?”

(I’m doing great. I take it you haven’t heard about Séimí?)

“Níor chuala, cad é a tharla?” I ask, intrigued.

(I didn’t, what happened?)

“Bhain sé an lotto! Cuig miliúin a bhfuair sé!”

(He won the lotto! He won five million!)

“Níor bhain,” I say in shock, “Conas a dhéarna sé?”

(He did not! What did he do?)

“Dúirt sé gur sindeacáit a raibh ann, díreach mar a gheall sé. Sin £625,000 an duine don ochtar acu,” she explains.

(He said it was a syndicate, just like he promised. That’s £625,000 per person for the eight of them.)

“Eiseann páirt den sindeacáit ina bhfuil Liam, nach é?” I question.

(He’s part of the syndicate that Liam’s in, isn’t he?)

“’Sea, sin ceart.”

(Yeah, that’s right.)

“So, thig le seo a bheith in san rud a cuidíonn le Mack. Sin ar dóigh Orls,” I beam.

(So, this could be the thing that helps Mack. This is amazing Orls.)

“Oh aye, rinne mé dearmad a rá leat. Tá an fire bitch anseo.”

(Oh aye, I forgot to tell you. The fire bitch is here.)

“Rinne tú dearmad- An bhfuil sé ansin faoi láthair? An dtig liom lábhairt leis?”

(You forgot- Is he there right now? Can I talk to him?)

“Ach, níl mé ag an teach tabhairne ag an bhomaite, ach dearfaidh mé leis scáirt a chuir ort, pet.”

(Ach, I’m not at the bar at the minute, but I’ll tell him to give you a shout, pet.)

“Níl muinín agam ionat leis na sceallóga a fháil!”

(I don’t trust you to go get the chippy!)

“Aw, is gra liom thú freisin, Fianna,” she coos.

(Aw, I love you too, Fianna.)

We talk for another while, seeing how the other’s doing. I find out how Tommy is now that school’s ended and he’s stuck at home most of the time, turns out that he’s meeting with friends and Orlaith as often as possible to get out of being with the dicks we have as parents. I tell her all about seeing Jessica again, how she’s had her shit to deal with while we were doing GCSE exams.

It’s nice talking to Orlaith, I mean I’m definitely racking up some phone bill, but she’s making me feel more like I’m still in the train wreck of a place I call home. Then we talk about me meeting with the devil, I mean Stark. This grudge I have isn’t going to go away anytime soon, I mean what he’s done to me, what he’s done to others? It’s unforgivable. I can’t just let him get away with it with only a slap on the wrist, it’s stupid to do so.

Orlaith calms me down when I end up going on a tangent, she’s always been good at that, calming me when I’m rile up. I mean first lesbian experience aside, there’s a reason she’s my best friend. I really do love that girl.

After about an hour of talking we eventually hang up, but not without the true Irish goodbye of saying various farewells at least twenty times each.

Matt’s been home almost an hour by the time I say goodbye to Orlaith and so I’m not surprised when he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Friend from home,” I say vaguely.

“Close friend?” he pries slightly, a cup of tea in his hand.

“You could say that,” I reply.

“You know, I’ve never heard you speak Irish before. You can tell it’s your first language, I could barely catch a syllable you said, never mind a word,” he teases.

“It’s a quick language, especially when you’re fluent,” I explain, “And when you’re comfortable, I’ve known Orlaith years, even some of our teachers can’t keep up when we’re excited.”

“Seems like a good friend,” Matt smiles, then he changes the subject to someone I’d rather not talk about. “I heard you mentioned Stark a few times,” he tests the waters.

“Yeah, not too happy I’ll have to move in with him soon,” I reply.

“Makes sense, he’s in charge of the Avengers that are still on the good side of the law,” he shrugs.

“I just can’t stand him though, I mean I’ve hated him for year, Matt, years. I can’t just throw that away because I need help. That would be stupid.”

“Well maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet,” Matt thinks aloud.

“Why would I waste a perfectly good hatchet Matthew? Why would I do that?” I exclaim.

Matt laughs at me, he laughs. The audacity of this man, to laugh at me.

“Really? The full name?” he laughs.

“Okay, you don’t know why I hate him, and honestly, I don’t know you well enough to explain to you. But he’s basically messed up a lot of my life and I can’t forgive him for it ever.”

“Okay, okay, if that’s how you feel then that’s valid. But the man is your only option right now, Fianna. I can’t keep you forever, I mean what if it got out, a lawyer like me housing a criminal like you? The press would have a field-day, you know that.”

“I do Matt, I do. I just don’t know how I can swallow my pride and ask him for help,” I admit.

“I’ll help you; we can even loosely script your interactions if you want,” he offers.

“I mean I will probably go off-script the first chance I get, but thanks, that would be nice,” I smile.

“Of course.”

We sit and talk for a while, between planning my visit to Stark and just good old-fashioned banter. I feel a lot better by the time I’m going to sleep, the neon sign doesn’t even seem that bright anymore. This time it only takes a minute before I fall asleep, and unlike the past few nights, the dream I have is a pleasant one.

#peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x reader #peter parker #fianna macbhfloscaidh #the lone wolf #the lupine saga #jynx writes

1 note · View note

magpie-69 · 4 years

Text

Happy Samhain morning to all!

Samhain continues until sunset tonight. No, that doesn't mean I'm going to be toasting my Ancestors with Tequila all day. Although that would be nice, right? 😁 I've already been for a wee run. Just a little one this morning. It was raining lightly but it didn't matter. I have towels at home! 😂 You see, the instant I woke there was one word in my head....RUN! And so I did 🏃‍♀️ I know S-S was there with me 🙏 Now I'm home having my second coffee ☕ Yum! It seems to taste so much better now. After I've had breakfast I'll be demolishing an old rickety wardrobe ⚒️ Bish, bosh, bash! 🛠️ Yay! Then I'll be putting together a much bigger, solid wood one in its place. A day of action with the strength of my Ancestors behind me! ⚔️ I wish you all strength and honour on this special day!

And I salute you, my Tribe! 💜💜💜

Magpie'69 💜☠️🍒

1/11/19 🇬🇧

@auroradragon1 @kittysparkleslove @instructor144 @naughtycurious1977 @babygirl-1972 @hoke53 @belfast62 @itsshinycollectordestinyworld @ysl123 @supergingerbrat @littlephoenixkitten @naughty-little-vixen @masternerd @daddyandhislittleprincess11102 @dinodaddy @thecomicbookj @droppinby @i-am-dubs @crusoesampersand @only-spice @delightfulsubgirl @celticorca @reflectedtruthsblog @sirgarrison-lordgary @herculesunchained @Tribe!

#magstuff #Samhain '19

78 notes · View notes

thewildeclub · 4 years

Text

Thank you @carrythatweight I always finds these charming and interesting to do.

1) do you make your own bed? Why bother? I am perfectly content laying on my white duvet surrounded by pillows, a tea tray, clothes, and cords. It makes me feel like a Magpie

2) what’s your favorite number? 17. Date of birth, exact number of letters in my name, and I was born in September.

3) what’s your job? Short answer: administrative associate working with state daycares. Long answer: I am an admin, a writer, a artist, and a teacher.

4) can you parallel park? If no one is behind me or in front of me.

5) a job you’ve had that would surprise people? For two weeks, I worked as a house cleaner in an historic bed and breakfast..

6) do you think aliens are real? I think it is irrational to think otherwise. Humans don’t have an monopoly on existence.

7) can you drive a manual car? Heaven’s no. I tried once and it was a wee bit terrible.

8) what’s your guilty pleasure? Cheese. I am that bitch who will make a cheese plate after a bad day.

9) tattoos? I want more, but currently I have a small ghost on my shoulder. His name is Oswald.

10) favorite color? Rich sapphire and kudzu green.

11) things people do that drive you crazy? Ignorance, no turn signals, and bad parents

12) any phobias? job searching, anything with teeth, and getting lost in the woods.

13) favorite childhood sport? Soccer, I used to be phenomenal at it.

14) do you talk to yourself? Through writing. Whether its journaling, self inserted stories, or sticky notes.

15) what movies do you adore? I LOVE movies. Deeply, passionately, but to respect the question I will say my top 5. Stay, The Awakening, As Above So Below, Stoker, and the Prestige. I also just saw Extra Ordinary and that is now in my top 10.

16) do you like doing puzzles? I do actually. During my BA, there was a table on our departments floor that always had a puzzle. I liked getting to my classes early, worked on the puzzle then went to class. I don’t have any space now so no time for it.

17) favorite kind of music? I love a little bit of everything. I have been listening to more rap lately, but in general I like British Alternative most.

18) tea or coffee? Coffee. French pressed with a little half in half, caramel syrup, and foamed milk.

19) what was the first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? A ghost hunter or a “ice cream chef”

Anyone who sees this, please do it. Its a wonderful reflection of your likes, dislikes, and interests. Its important to know each other and learn more about the world. Be well and stay curious!

15 notes · View notes

limey-blue-arty-do · 6 years

Text

Tagged by @selfinsertheaven

Rules:

answer these questions and tag 20(?) followers you’d like to get to know better!

Name: Limey

Nicknames: ......Limey

Zodiac sign: Pisces

Height: uuhhhhh like 5′7″?

Orientation: Bi

Nationality: British/Czech

Favorite Fruit: Probably like. kiwi? or strawberries?

Favorite Season: Autumn motherfuckers

Favorite Book: Good Omens or The Wee Free Men series

Favorite scent: kind of a tie between lavender and leather (not both at the same time)

Favorite Color: Green and black

Favorite Animal: Otters and magpies

Coffee/tea/hot cocoa: TEA (and hot chocolate)

Average hours of sleep: somewhere like 8-9hrs on a good day

Cat or dog person: see if I could have a cat I would absolutely have one. but I am pushed towards dogs because if I could have a dog or a cat I would have the dog, purely for protective reasons

Favorite Fictional Characters: honestly like. the whole character crew of Critical Role. I am very heavily invested with them by now

Number of blankets you sleep with: just the one, unless it’s super cold

Dream trip: Horse riding along the coast

Blog created: fuckin ages ago idk

Number of followers: 372?

Random Fact: thus far I can imitate purring, roaring, cawing, engine noises, doors closing, and objects dropping into water with my voice. I’m also trying to practise various accents as well as lower octave voices

I’m tagging:

@galaxy-of-stars @bumblebeequeenie @smoochesforseven @noodle-of-the-internet @cryptidchaos @akitheshinigamia @vampyre-darling (if you wanna) @iselfshipnerd @leefiilov and @robotarmjokes

#about me

7 notes · View notes

justcahttingtothevoidcat · 3 years

Text

Back to the Glen

I am obsessed with Caitlin Doughty's first book "Smoke gets in your eyes", I am sure it is well read by many but I hadn't had the chance until now. It feels really good to have bed time reading again, and even having to force myself to stop to actually sleep, I have missed those days, when I was wee I consumed the entirety of our local library's section for kids so I had to move onto the Helensburgh Library and that was a delicious few years but then it was all read too.

Anyway, I made it back to the Glen, it was a really nice day actually. I didn't get car sick (Unusual, thanks to my Vestibular Migraines), I didn't get soaked despite being in my chair and the staff were super helpful. I love Rouken Glen, I've been going since '89 and the garden centre and park and butterfly house that used to be there played a huge part of my childhood. I was really pissed off when they changed the play park, it used to be accessible to all ages of kids and it had a wheelchair accessible swing which I loved to see but now like most play parks if you are over 8 you are too old for it. It's such shite!

Anyway I didn't actually go to the park this visit, I was exhausted after shopping, we got a bird house to replace our current broken one and a few Christmas dec's too which we hadn't intended on buying but sometimes it's just too hard to resist, I swear I was a magpie in a past life, if it's shiny or cute I just adore it.

I am still knackered today though, still it was nice to get out and escape the noise of the world cracking under the folly of man.

0 notes

bigmacdaddio · 3 years

Text

The Calliope Crashed to the Ground…

by colemining

One of my very best BFFs seemed to be reflecting upon a park in New Jersey last evening, and posted a line from a particular little ditty as her status on the facebook. It got the song running through my head, of course- the super-rhyme-scheme is catchy as all get-out, but the version that popped in there was Manfred Mann’s cover of the tune, rather than Bruce’s original.

Which, while not surprising perhaps, got me thinking some interesting things about creativity and muses and suchlike.

Before she became a brightly-coloured musical instrument (usually associated with circuses) Kalliope/Calliope was the Muse in charge of cool things like epic poetry and eloquence. Capital-M Muses were the Greek goddess-types who provided the inspiration for all those things I like best- art, literature, music, history- you know, those things that we create that connect us as humans.

Shrines to the Muses- museums– are pretty much the closest I tend to get to entering places of worship on anything like a regular basis, and as anything other than a tourist. I like museums. A lot. They are places of reverence, to me. And they feel like home. The Muses are definitely ladies after my own heart- even if I have seen neither hide nor hair of their influence lately.

The Romans picked up on the idea of the daughters of Zeus (the Big Boss) and Mnemosyne (Memory- in goddess form) and assigned them particular roles. Historian that I am, I’ve always been a wee bit partial to Clio (with her scrolls and all), but all props need go to Kalliope for inspiring the epic-ness of Mr. Springsteen’s well-rhymed song.

Kalliope is generally pictured with a writing tablet- reflective of her importance to those who wax poetic- and was called, by peeps as important as Ovid, the Chief of all the Muses. She was mother to Orpheus, and the inspiration and whispering Voice in the night that drove Homer to write a couple of well-known ditties, about a guy named Odysseus and about a conflict in a town called Troy, of his own.

My beloved Dante spoke well of her: But, since I am yours, O sacred Muses, here let dead Poetry rise again, and here let Calliope sound, a moment, accompanying my words with that mode, of which the Pierides felt the power, so that they despaired of pardon…’ (Dante references the first Battle of the Bands- won, natch, by the Muses, who then turned the upstart Thessalonian daughters of King Pieros into magpies for their extraordinary presumption in challenging them to a sing-off. Think Glee/Pitch Perfect, but for keeps).

Kalliope is usually described as the eldest of the sisters- something I know a little something about. She’s also considered the wisest… but I’ll leave that one alone, lest my sibs take offense (Happy Middle Child Day to the mid-sis, BTW. Who knew there was such a thing?

0 notes

theleadbull · 2 years

Text

I posted 1,176 times in 2021

8 posts created (1%)

1168 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 146.0 posts.

I added 500 tags in 2021

#video - 142 posts

#lotr - 65 posts

#me - 64 posts

#cats - 58 posts

#art - 33 posts

#ffvii - 32 posts

#nbc hannibal - 27 posts

#nct - 27 posts

#fmab - 27 posts

#bts - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#i was so grumpy because i learned boolean operators in jr high and had been excluding things and narrowing searches all by myself

My Top Posts in 2021

sorry yall i’m rereading lord of the rings rn and it’s maudlin tolkienverse hours until further notice

3 notes • Posted 2021-03-17 04:19:12 GMT

someone invite me to a ffvii Fandom Old discord server so i have somewhere to put all my zangeal feelings

4 notes • Posted 2021-08-29 22:37:02 GMT

this incomplete chart of how authors typecast boygroup idols came to me in a dream, so here it is for your perusal and enjoyment

the 4th category is “dances” but i literally just woke up and my brain is melting

10 notes • Posted 2021-04-03 20:48:25 GMT

tumblr_video

14 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 04:09:07 GMT

you have a masters degree in latin, a DEAD LANGUAGE because of MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE FRERARD FANFICTION UNHOLYVERSE BY BEXLESS?

okay so i was really hoping someone would ask about this because it’s a gaud-level anecdote. literally my entire career is because of unholyverse.

it is from this time period that my career has its origins.

and then i read unholyverse.

but oh, that pesky language requirement.

to properly Study the things i’m studying, you need to know a laundry list of dead languages including but not limited to ancient greek, classical latin, and sanskrit.

so my ass signs up for ancient greek. oh, it’s to meet the language requirement.

but i could. i could do a minor in ancient languages. i could do that.

so i sign up for latin.

at this point i’m 19 years old taking 24 hours of classes. 12 of them are unholyverse, 2 are electives, and the other 10 are core requirements.

i graduate that with a 4.0 and a certification to teach. i am immediately headhunted by schools, including the one i teach at now.

and that is how unholyverse is responsible for my career.

53 notes • Posted 2021-02-16 11:15:27 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #me

1 note · View note