sporades

Hey guys, Mod T of forgottenhsfacts here. I’m having surgery on my sinuses later this week and I could use a few extra bucks in the weeks to come. I hate to be that guy™ which is why I’m not actually gonna ask for any money, but like, if you feel like tossing me a handful of money, hit me up on my personal blog for my paypal info or y’know, if you just wanna ask some questions about what’s going down.

Thanks for reading, you’re not obligated to reblog this at all, and I promise I won’t let my surgery/recovery interfere with the sporadic posting of this blog.

okay so both jaime and bart make really uncomfortable Trauma jokes as a coping mechanism. jaime didn’t for the longest time because it made him feel uncomfortable even talking about it, but eventually he realized that making jokes about it made him feel better and bart thinks they’re hilarious because he has a really fucked up sense of humor given his everything. 

and of course only the two of them can laugh at them or even stand to hear them, really. plus they come up so sporadically that the rest of the team forgets that they make them from time to time and like, forgets to warn new members. 

so they just got a new team member and the new team member is on a mission briefing. robin is doing it and mentions something about  an out of body experience and jaime’s just like “THREE MONTHS OF MY LIFE WERE AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE” in that wink wink nudge nudge kinda tone and everyone’s uncomfortable except for bart’s who’s just like up top man, up top, and then he makes an uncomfortable joke in turn. 

and the new girl turns to robin with this terrified look like “does this happen a lot?” and he just kinda nods and says “yeah they’re just kind of like this. we just kind of ignore them until they stop when this happens” 

Fire Burn & Cauldron Bubble.

(  Prompt: We’re in between classes, and we both hear a fourth year calling a first year a mudblood, and neither of us are having any of that prejudiced bullshit. unfortunately, my impulse was to hex them, and yours was to punch them in the face, and my jelly-legs curse hit you instead, i’m really sorry, and we both are probably getting detention now, but hey, plus side, you’re kind of cute )

A/N: I was originally not going to make a sequel because of all the flack I received from several anons who disagreed with me sorting Peter into Hufflepuff, but you guys were too nice, so I caved. And cheated a little by using a prompt and tweaking it. School has also started, so my updates might be sporadic. Year 2 of Child Psychology is already killing me. Send help. And send in requests - Hogwarts related or otherwise.

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25


You’re walking down the hall with fellow roomie Megan when you hear it.

Taunts and jeers. A familiar voice asking Flash to stop. Curious, a little concerned – you look to see what’s happening. A group of Gryffindors twice your size are surrounding a tall, skinny Hufflepuff with milk pale skin and freckles.

Ice crystalizes in your veins. Oh, help. It’s Peter Parker.

You remember him well enough. Whenever the two of you had passed each other in the halls ( him with a rotound giant of a Hufflepuff and a wild, curly haired Ravenclaw, and you with your roommates ), he would send you a sunny, easy smile and a wave, to which you would return with a nod of your own.

“Let’s go,” Megan says. “We’re gonna be late, (Y/n).”

It’s obvious she’s telling you to keep your head down. She wants to stay out of trouble. Your sense of self-preservation battles your conscience. But your conscience wins. You owe Peter.

“Hold my books, Chan!” You say loudly, shoving your books into Megan’s hands. She jumps. In the short week that she’s known you, you’ve been soft-spoken and well mannered. She’s never heard you raise your voice before – or sound so ticked off. You might as well have danced around naked in the halls from the way she’s staring at you.

You stomp over and, to a chorus of “Hey” and “Watch it”, shove the Gryffindors out of the way. Glaring, you pull your wand out from your robes and say, “You have five seconds to leave. Then I get mad.

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” The ringleader asks, his voice a high falsetto. “Ooh, I’m so scared, the ickle firstie’s gonna hurt me!” To a chorus of laughter now directed at you, he leans in closer, eyes darkening, voice a taunting whisper. “Slither back to your dungeons, you little mudblood.”

You face pales, and you jerk back as though you’ve been slapped. But before you can hex him into oblivion, there’s an outraged yell, and the Gryffindor goes down in a tangle of limbs.

It’s not you whaling on the Gryffindor.

It’s Peter Parker.


Predictably, the two of you end up in the Hospital Wing.

The only bright side to this whole mess is that the Gryffindors go too. You’d gotten Flash pretty good; his face is a mass of bruises and boils, and the Bat Bogey Hex that you’d hit him with had yet to wear off. The bats still surround him in a great, dark cloud, making you feel a twinge of pride all over again.

The school nurse, Mr Wilson, takes one look at the motely group that’s been deposited inside, and instantly bursts out laughing. Flash and his cronies are wheeled into another room for Mr. Wilson to patch up, so it’s just you and Peter until the teachers arrive.

You’d escaped unscathed, Peter not so much. He’d been on the receiving end of the Jelly-Legs curse, and was currently strapped down to a bed, his legs still jiggling away. And, as luck would have it, the brute from Gryffindor knew how to fight. The brute’s left a fresh bruise on Peter’s cheek, and Peter’s knuckles are raw and bloody. The only first aid you’ve been able to provide consists of wetting your handkerchief and wrapping it around Peter’s hand.

The door to the hospital flies open; in sails Professor Romanoff, assistant Head of Slytherin. Professor Rogers from Hufflepuff is hot on her heels. You glare defiantly at Professor Romanoff, but she doesn’t seem mad; merely amused. She’s actually happy, cherry red lips curved up in a smile.

Professor Rogers is a different story altogether. He never raises his voice, just sounds infinitely disappointed. “Peter, would you like to explain why you got into a fight with Thompson?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” You interject hastily, knowing that Peter would never let slip he was being bullied until upon pain of death. “Peter was getting picked on by that loser!”

Professor Roger’s eyes darken. You hope this isn’t because he’s mad at the two of you. “And then Flash got mad, hexed Peter.”

You wince. You’d hoped the subject wouldn’t come up, but it looks like it’s no dice. “No, erm, that was me,” You admit sheepishly, cheeks glowing pink.

“I tackled Flash, and she –” An amused smile plays across Peter’s lips as he flicks a sideways glance over at you, your cheeks rosy and eyes blazing defiantly. “– She tried to hex Flash. But she missed and hit me instead.”

Professor Romanoff arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow in disbelief. “You missed? Really, (Y/n)?”

“Natasha!” Professor Rogers squawks indignantly. “Miss (L/n)’s missing is hardly the point here –”

“You’re right. What have you been teaching the first-years, Steve?” Professor Romanoff asks mockingly, shaking a headful of scarlet curls. “Not how to aim properly, that’s for sure. (Y/n), they were several meters in front of you, how could you have possibly missed?”

Wait. What? No lecture? No expulsion? “They were flopping about!” You cry out defensively. “Peter was getting in the way! I had it all under control! He should thank me for saving his sorry ass!”

“Language, Miss (L/n)!” Professor Rogers chides, which only falls on deaf ears.

“Well, it’s true! You didn’t hear what Flash and his goons called Peter!” You screw up your face, doing a remarkably accurate Flash impression. “‘Puny Parker’, ‘Pathetic Parker’ –”

“Peter, how long has this been going on?” Professor Rogers asks, a protective edge to his voice.

“A while,” Peter rushes out, as though the quicker he says it, the sooner everyone will forget. He turns to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “Me?! Didn’t you hear what he called you? I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing –”

“I had it covered!”

“Yeah, just like the time you were hopelessly lost and claimed that everything was fine? I don’t think so, (Y/n).”

(Y/n),” Professor Romanoff interrupts, still sounding amused from your bantering with Peter, “What exactly did Thompson call you?”

Dead silence.

You meet Peter’s eyes. He presses his lips together into a thin, white line, and shakes his head. You raise your eyes heavenwards. Fine. If he won’t say it, you will.

“Flash called me a mudblood. Okay?”

The words clump together in your mouth. You really don’t want to repeat it, but it looks like the Professors have gotten the message. The room goes quiet and tense. Professor Romanoff mutters unfamiliar sounding curses under her breath, shooting an angry glance at the room where Flash is. She looks like she’s considering murder on your behalf. Professor Rogers is equally disapproving, handsome face etched into a scowl, but his eyes are aglow with pride as he nods at Peter, clearly approving that he’d tried to stand up for you.

“Well,” Professor Romanoff says silkily, taking care to raise her voice. “I think fifty points apiece from Gryffindor should be fine.”

“Agreed.” Professor Rogers says. “Fury would like to see them too, I think.”

Professor Romanoff nods approvingly. “Fifty points to Hufflepuff and Slytherin.”

You’ll take the points over a detention any day. Professor Romanoff nods at Peter as Professor Rogers leaves, presumably to have a chat with Headmaster Fury. Pulling out her wand, Professor Romanoff fixes Peter’s legs with a wave of her wand.

“Next time, (Y/n), if you want to get into trouble, do try not to get caught.”

Definitely not something that you would have expected a teacher to say. A smile, your first since you’ve stepped foot into the hospital wing, breaks across your face. One nod from you later, Professor Romanoff has ducked into Mr Wilson’s office. You wonder if she’s scaring the living daylights out of Flash and his goons. The thought makes you feel marginally better.

“You’re smiling.”

Peter’s voice breaks you out of your daze. “Wouldn’t you be? Flash is in trouble, and we’ve just scored house points!”

“I’ve just been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “How do you think I feel?”

“Professor Romanoff removed it!” You defend yourself. “And I’ll work on my aim next time!”

“Well, at least you managed to nail him with that Bat Bogey Hex. How do you know so many curses, anyway?”

“First thing I practised when I got here.” You intone solemnly.

Peter laughs. It’s delicious sounding thing, bright and happy and full of life.

“Well. If I get picked on again, I guess I know who to call for backup.”

It was a one-time thing, you want to say. I owed you a favour, but now we’re even. But none of those things comes out. “I’ll ambush them,” You say instead. “Don’t get caught and all that.”

“You are such a Slytherin,” Peter says, fondly but not mockingly.

“Don’t I know it.”

The two of you have reached the Great Hall. The sound of laughter, chatter, and shouts compete with the clinking of cutlery. The two of you stand awkwardly outside the wooden doors, until you quickly decide that the situation is getting a little too awkward for your tastes, and quickly make to head inside.

“Er – Wait.” Peter grabs your hand before you can leave. Only when you stop in your tracks does he retract his hands guiltily. “Sorry. Sorry. Um. Thanks.”

“Well, you punched him for me, so I’d say we’re even.” You say non-committedly, trying to ignore the heat still clinging to your skin. “Thanks, too.”

“Um …”

“Spit it out, Parker, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Hogsmeade,” Peter mumbles, so soft that you have to strain your ears to hear. “Would you like to go?”

“Uh, first-years can’t go. Remember?”

“They can if they’re invited.”

You stare. Is he asking you on a date?

“My friends and I were going,” Peter clarifies, and you try to ignore that puzzling stab of disappointment that you feel. “That, and I owe you, so …”

You hardly need to be convinced. “Sure. You can buy me a drink.”

His answering smile is bright, blindingly so.

And if your cheeks heat up the tiniest bit, or if you stumble over your own feet as you navigate your way to your table, well, that’s a problem to be solved at another time.

anonymous asked:

in the disorder question you forgot mituna and jade (she canonically has "sporadic fits of NARCOLEPSY") you could argue that dave does too

Right! How in the world could I forget Mituna??

But Jade, Jade doesn’t actually have Narcolepsy, that was just Vriska fucking with her

The Woman

A dark winding trail
Through the dark forest
Between thy legs is my tail
My knuckles white, my face pale

The moons sporadic light
Shines down on a lady
Down the trail In my sight
Wearing a silk robe colored white

She’s floating in air
Fog begins to appear
She gives me an unwanted glare
Goosebumps erect my hair

Stopped in my tracks
She pulls me closer
I tense before she attacks
She says young boy, relax

Trembling in fear
I’m an angel sent from above
Is death for me near
Oh little one death is here

You’re in the afterlife
The Forest of the Dead
Peace is certainly rife
In the heavenly life

I’m not a cute little shower of rain that allows the sun to shine while it passes through. No, I am the storm that you get chills of when thinking about the damage it could do to you and your life. I rip through everything you love, shaking your world with my sporadic thundering and setting fires with the lightening that brews in my heart.
—  MJG // Life has not allowed me to be a sun shower.

shapeshifting is the best super power because you can have any haircut any time you want, you can turn into a hotter version of yourself, you can turn into a dragon, you can turn into a robot, you can turn into a shambling mound of abstract shapes and sulk outside your estranged father’s house at night while chanting ominously about his sins,

The more time I spend with you, the more I fall apart.
And I know this, I think about this all the time but I don’t wanna believe it.
I’m desperately trying to convince myself that It’s not you, that you’re not my destruction. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not losing my mind because of you. That I’m not getting more and more unstable by the minute because of you. I keep thinking that maybe I’m just delusional, maybe you’re my salvation.
But you’re not.

it’s never going to happen but please let the raven cycle series be filmed in parks & rec format. let ronan stare dead-eyed into the camera every time gansey starts talking. let blue go on 25 minute feminist rants that are cut in sporadically throughout the episode. let gansey ramble cheerfully to the camera about glendower until ronan inevitably yells at him to shut up. let the camera zoom in dramatically on adam’s face literally every time he speaks. we deserve this.