Jul 16, 2024
#project hail mary- #the amazing digital circus
#dc comics#batman#dc#bruce wayne#batfam#dc fanart#dick grayson#tim drake#batfamily
- #the vampire lestat
- #pride month
#lana del rey- #wlw
- #heated rivalry
#dc comics#batman#dc#bruce wayne#batfam#dc fanart#dick grayson#tim drake#batfamily
seen from Ukraine
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Ukraine
Treasures galore -- coins, gems, jewelry, potions, scrolls, wands, magic weapons, and other enchanted items (Jeff Easley and Larry Elmore, Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Companion: Book Two by Frank Mentzer, TSR, 1984)
Jestful Jodhpurs
Wondrous Item | Uncommon | Requires Attunement
Follow us on Patreon for free to see more!
A curio shop offers a magic items for sale at surprisingly reasonable prices. Which would you want most?
a map that always shows points of interest within a 15 minute walk radius
a compass that will point toward any living person you name
infrared / ultraviolet / light amplification glasses
glasses with a HUD recalling info you've heard from the person you're talking to
infinite phone battery
self-cleaning and self-sanitizing handkerchief
extradimensional pocket you can access with a gesture
coin purse that always has exact change under $5 or equivalent in local currency
travel mug that perfectly preserves the temperature of its contents
"Magic"? Ha! This is obviously a scam and you'll get no money from me!
Can't believe I just spent two hours making a bag of holding
Chronic Illnesses
Chronic Illnesses That Can Occur In A Fantasy Setting
Partial transformation - mummy rot is slowly turning you to sand, a near miss from a medusa left you with partially stoned body parts, etc.
Hypnotic suggestions from being mind controlled persist after the controller’s death, causing the victim to occasionally take actions to support the cause of a mind flayer cult that no longer exists.
Repeated demonic possession has left the patient with permanent gaps in their soul’s defenses, causing them to immediately get re-possessed if they go outside a consecrated area.
Post-resurrection trauma as the revived soul remembers an unpleasant afterlife.
Magical healing can get very weird if something is stuck in the wound. It’ll get you back on your feet, but you can get outcomes like “there’s a chunk of wood fused into your chest because the magic couldn’t figure out how to get the arrow out of your chest and just healed it in place,” and this can cause mobility issues or infection vectors down the line.
Cup of tea
Percy Weasley x Reader
—
Percy liked order. He liked lists, schedules, and the precise alignment of papers on a desk. Y/N, by contrast, was a walking storm of curiosity and energy, and somehow, over the past few months, he had grown to treasure it. She laughed at things he didn’t even realize were funny, asked questions that made him think in ways he hadn’t considered, and most astonishingly seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.
“Percy, you really should read this one,” she said, holding up a battered copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. “It’s got everything. Adventure, clever twists, moral lessons… and it’s short enough that you won’t have to write an essay about it afterward.”
“I… I’m rather busy with the ministry files, Y/N,” Percy replied, pushing his glasses up nervously.
She grinned, a little mischievous and completely infuriating. “I know you are. But this,” she waved the book at him like it contained the secrets of the universe, “this is worth your time. You’ll thank me later. Maybe.”
Percy had never been good at reading between the lines, but he knew one thing: when Y/N was passionate about something, the world felt… different. Warmer, somehow. Even paperwork seemed less dull when she sat across from him, twirling a pen, recounting the antics of her cat at home or describing the perfect cup of coffee she’d just discovered.
“I… suppose I could… look at it,” he said cautiously, already feeling the familiar tug of amusement at her insistence.
“Good!” She clapped her hands softly. “I knew you’d see the sense in it eventually. You know, not many people actually like spending time here in the afternoons. But you? You… enjoy it, even in your own meticulous way.”
Percy felt a small, careful warmth in his chest. She understood him. Few people ever did. The others either thought he was pompous or boring, but Y/N… she just saw. And maybe that was why he liked her more than he expected or more than he was comfortable admitting.
“I… I do enjoy our afternoons,” he said, his voice quiet. “It… it is pleasant.”
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes lighting up. “See? That’s all I wanted to hear! You don’t even have to dress it up in fancy words.”
He adjusted his tie, a little embarrassed, but inwardly pleased.
For a few minutes, they worked in companionable silence. Percy typed, she scribbled notes, and the air between them was filled with the soft scent of parchment, faint coffee from a nearby pot, and the tiny, comforting chaos of her presence.
Then she stood abruptly, a little too quickly, sending a pencil rolling across the desk. “I should go run a few errands. Maybe find more books for our little corner over there,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the small reading nook by the office window. “Don’t you worry, Percy …I’ll be back soon.”
“Y/N…” Percy started, but she was already moving toward the door, a flurry of hair and enthusiasm, and he felt a strange emptiness where her energy had been. He shook his head, blaming it on the sudden quiet.
He didn’t yet know that she wouldn’t be back. Not in the office, not in the usual routine, not in the world he had carefully arranged to make sense. She had plans of her own plans with books, coffee, cats, and a tiny shop she had been dreaming of for years. And Percy, meticulous and precise as he was, had never prepared for how much he would miss her.
—
Percy arrived at the Ministry the next morning with the usual punctuality which means ten minutes early, tie perfectly aligned, briefcase organized. But something felt… off.
The chair across from him was empty.
He frowned. That in itself was not unusual people were often late but the desk told a different story. Papers she had been working on yesterday were gone. Her notebook was missing. Even the small teacup she always left, meticulously placed at the corner of the desk, was gone.
Percy’s chest tightened. He straightened every pen, every paper, and even adjusted his chair. Order alone could not explain the hollowness he felt.
Then he noticed it: a single envelope, neatly folded and resting where her cup usually sat. The handwriting was unmistakable careful, fluid, and distinctly Y/N.
He froze. For a moment, the logical part of his brain tried to reason: maybe she had a sudden emergency. Maybe she’d just forgotten something. Perhaps she had run an errand that would take all day.
But the envelope called to him in a way no logic could calm. He picked it up with deliberate care, turning it over in his hands. It was heavier than a normal letter, and the faint scent of coffee clung to it.
Percy cleared his throat. “Right… well… let’s see,” he muttered, his voice low, uncertain.
Dear Percy,
I’ve gone ahead with something I’ve dreamed of for years. I hope you understand that this isn’t because of you, or because I don’t enjoy our time together I do, more than I can say. But I needed to take this step for myself.
I’ve opened a little shop coffee, books, cats, all the things that make me happy. I’ve wanted to create a space like this for so long, and now I have. I hope, if you ever find yourself near, you might stop by. You’ve been one of the few people who truly understands my odd little routines, and I… I miss our afternoons already
Take care, Percy. Truly.
Y/N
Percy blinked. The edges of the envelope pressed against his fingers, but his mind was elsewhere. She was gone. She had left, and yet… she had left this.
He sat down slowly, folding his hands over the letter as though it were fragile enough to shatter. He read it again, carefully, methodically, absorbing every word. She… misses our afternoons.
The thought lodged in his chest, stubborn and sharp. He had missed her. More than he had allowed himself to think. More than he would have admitted, even to himself.
Percy adjusted his glasses, staring at the empty chair, the empty desk, the absence that now seemed impossibly large. His mind raced in the precise, orderly way he knew best:
Step one: Determine her location -> she had gone to a shop.
Step two: Consider visiting → feasible, but… what would he say?
Step three: Accept feelings → cannot compute.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. The letter was simple. The handwriting was calm. And yet, it had undone him in the gentlest way possible.
Percy Weasley, meticulous, precise, and always in control, realized he had no instructions for this. No protocol. No list to follow. And perhaps, he thought quietly, as he clutched the letter to his chest, that was exactly why he needed to see her again.
—
Percy stood outside the little shop, staring at the neatly painted sign above the door: “Y/N’s Nook: Coffee, Books, and Cats.”
He had circled the block three times before stopping, adjusting his tie for the fourth time. His usual tea shop was orderly, quiet, familiar. Visiting a new place especially one bustling with warm light, the rich scent of coffee, and what sounded suspiciously like a small parade of cats was… unsettling.
But it was her.
With a careful, deep breath, Percy stepped inside. Immediately, he was met with the soft warmth of the room, the low murmur of quiet conversation, and the faint jingle of a bell over the door. A tabby cat slinked across his shoes, brushing against his ankles. He froze.
“Percy?”
The voice was familiar, yet different softer, confident, alive. Y/N appeared from behind the counter, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a book tucked under her arm. She looked up, her eyes widening in delight, and then she smiled.
“You came,” she said, almost incredulously.
“I… yes,” Percy said, voice careful, precise. He took a tentative step forward. “I… received your letter.”
Her smile softened. “I hoped you would. I didn’t want to leave without saying something… even if it was just a note.”
Percy shifted awkwardly, glancing around. The shop was bright, bustling, and chaotic in a way he wasn’t used to. Books stacked on tables, cats curled in baskets, coffee cups steaming in every corner. He felt a small pang of overwhelm. But then he looked at her.
And it was worth it.
“You… look well,” he said, the words clumsy but genuine. “Very… well.”
Y/N laughed softly, a sound that made his chest tighten pleasantly. “Thank you, Percy. I’ve never been happier, I think. I… I missed you.”
Percy blinked. He had not been prepared for that. His usual reaction would be careful restraint, measured words, a proper step back. But the way she said it .. warm, unguarded, earnest, made him forget all of that.
“I… missed our afternoons,” he admitted, the words strange on his tongue. “More than I… perhaps should have.”
Her smile widened. “See? That’s why I had to leave. But I hoped… maybe you’d come.”
Percy adjusted his glasses, tugging at his tie, and glanced around the shop again. The cats, the coffee, the constant motion… it was overwhelming. And yet, somehow, it felt… right. Because she was here. Alive. Happy. And talking to him like before, like nothing had changed, like their bond was exactly the same.
“I… I suppose,” he said slowly, “I can… adjust my usual tea routine. For… this.”
Y/N laughed again, softly, and stepped closer. “For me?”
Percy hesitated, then nodded. “Yes… for you.”
—
At first, his visits were infrequent and carefully timed, always on the same day of the week, always at precisely the same hour. He sat at the same small table near the window, ordered tea (never coffee), and kept his briefcase at his feet like an anchor. The cats were… an adjustment. He learned which ones were inclined to jump, which preferred to nap, and which would stare at him as if judging his posture.
Over time, the chaos softened.
The bell over the door no longer startled him. The smell of coffee stopped overwhelming his senses. He even learned to tolerate and secretly enjoy the quiet hum of the shop, the rustle of pages turning, the gentle clink of cups.
And Y/N was always there.
Sometimes behind the counter, sometimes perched on a stool with a book, sometimes moving through the space like it was an extension of herself. She always smiled when she saw him. Always made his tea the way he liked it, without him asking. Always asked about his day and listened, truly listened, even when his answers were long and overly detailed.
Percy began to realize that this, too, had become a routine.
One afternoon, he arrived to find the shop unusually quiet. No murmured conversations, no occupied tables. Just soft light filtering through the windows and a cat asleep in the middle of the floor like it owned the place.
Y/N looked up from the counter and smiled. “Slow day,” she said. “Lucky you.”
She brought his tea over herself and, instead of returning to her work, sat down across from him.
Percy stiffened at first. unexpected changes still did that, but then he relaxed. She wrapped her hands around her own cup, steam curling around her face, her expression peaceful in a way he had never seen back at the Ministry.
She looked… radiant.
Not loud happiness. Not excitement. Just contentment. Like this life fit her perfectly.
Percy watched her longer than was polite.
She noticed, of course. “What?” she asked, amused.
“I…” His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Merely… observing.”
She smiled at that, eyes warm. “You do that a lot.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”
There was something pressing against his ribs, a tightness he had been cataloguing for weeks now. He had noticed it the first time he walked into the shop and felt disappointed she wasn’t immediately in sight. The first time she laughed and he felt absurdly proud, as though he had contributed to it. The first time he realized that her absence from the Ministry hadn’t left a gap in his routine it had left one in him.
He had come to understand something.
But understanding and expressing were very different matters.
Percy set his cup down with deliberate care. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached into his briefcase and withdrew an envelope. Cream-colored. Neatly addressed. Her name written in his precise, careful hand.
“I… prepared this,” he said, voice strained. “Because I am not… particularly adept at… speaking when it matters.”
Y/N’s expression softened immediately. She did not tease him. She did not rush him.
She took the letter.
Percy did not look at her as she opened it. He stared instead at the edge of the table, at the wood grain he had memorized by now.
Inside, the letter read:
Y/N,
Your departure from the Ministry disrupted my routine in a manner I initially believed to be distress caused solely by change.
Further observation has led me to conclude this assessment was incorrect.
I miss you. Not abstractly. Not occasionally. Consistently.
Your presence improved my days in ways I did not properly acknowledge at the time. I now recognize that my concern for your wellbeing, your happiness, and your continued existence in my daily life exceeds what may reasonably be defined as friendship.
In simpler terms, I believe I love you.
I am not asking you to change anything. I merely wished to ensure that this information was recorded accurately and delivered without interruption.
Percy
There was a long silence.
Percy’s heart pounded, each second stretching unbearably. He had followed every step correctly. Written clearly. Said nothing extraneous. And yet, he had never felt more exposed.
Then Y/N laughed softly, breathless.. and reached across the table, covering his hand with hers.
“Percy,” she said gently, eyes shining. “You could have just said it.”
“I am aware,” he replied. “I simply… could not.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you wrote it.”
He finally looked up at her then.
She was glowing.
And for the first time, Percy Weasley did not feel overwhelmed by change. He felt certain.
—
Six months later, Percy arrived at the café at precisely the same time he had on his first visit.
The bell chimed as he stepped inside, and for a moment, the past flickered in his mind the unfamiliar warmth, the cats underfoot, the overwhelming scent of coffee. Except now, none of it startled him.
He knew the cats by name.
One of them a ginger menace called Marmalade immediately wound itself around his ankles. Percy sighed, fondly exasperated, and bent to gently extricate himself. “Yes, hello. I see you are thriving.”
The shop was quiet, just like it had been that first afternoon she sat with him. Sunlight spilled through the windows, dust motes dancing in the air. Books lined the shelves in comforting disarray.
Y/N looked up from behind the counter and smiled the same smile that had undone him half a year ago, only now it was familiar. Safe.
“You’re right on time,” she said.
“I always am,” Percy replied, but there was warmth in it now. Ease.
She brought him his tea… still tea, always tea, prepared exactly the way he liked it. She sat across from him, just as she had before, legs tucked beneath her, hands wrapped around her own cup.
They had repeated this ritual on purpose.
Six months together. Six months of careful learning, gentle compromise, and a love that had grown not loudly, but steadily through shared routines, honest conversations, a nd Percy slowly allowing her into spaces he had never shared with anyone before.
“You know,” Y/N said thoughtfully, “you weren’t scowling your first day here. You looked more like you were bracing for impact.”
“I was,” Percy admitted. “This environment was… unpredictable.”
“And now?”
He glanced around. The cats. The books. Her.
“Now,” he said, “it is… comforting.”
She smiled at that, leaning her elbow on the table. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my shop.”
Percy hesitated then.
He had been doing that less lately, but this was important. He reached into his coat pocket, fingers closing around something cool and metallic. He took a breath steady, prepared.
“I have been considering something,” he began carefully.
Y/N immediately went quiet, attentive in the way she always was when she knew he was navigating something significant.
“My apartment,” Percy continued, “has been… unchanged for quite some time. It is orderly. Predictable. Entirely mine.” He paused. “However, I have found that when you are not there, it feels… incomplete.”
Her expression softened.
He placed a small keyring on the table between them.
Two keys. Neatly labeled.
“I have made a spare,” he said. “For you. In the event that you would like to come by. Or stay. Or simply exist there, even when I am not present.” He swallowed. “There is no obligation. I merely… wanted the option to be available.”
For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Then she reached across the table and took the keys, her fingers brushing his.
“Percy,” she said quietly, “this means more to me than you know.”
He nodded. “I am aware of that.”
She laughed softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek careful, affectionate, exactly the kind he liked.
—
Percy’s apartment was exactly as she imagined it would be.
Neat. Quiet. Thoughtfully arranged. Nothing out of place except now, her shoes by the door.
She stepped inside slowly, almost reverently, as though entering a space that required permission. Percy hovered nearby, hands clasped behind his back, watching her reactions with careful attention.
“It’s… very you,” she said gently.
He exhaled, relieved. “I hoped you would find it acceptable.”
She smiled and moved closer, setting her bag down before turning to him. “You know,” she said softly, “this is a big step for you.”
“Yes,” Percy agreed. “I have measured that extensively.”
She laughed, warm and fond, and reached for his hand. He allowed it easily now another change he had chosen.
When she wandered toward the window, sunlight catching in her hair, Percy felt that familiar certainty settle in his chest.
The apartment still had rules. Still had order.
But now, it had room for her.
And Percy Weasley found that he liked it better that way.
Tags: @vivianette
Select a cursed magic item to own.
Knife which will make people oblivious to murders successfully committed with it
Remote to change people's sex (alters reality, people unaware of previous stat
Remote to grand animals speech (but not intellect)
Computer that can access websites from other timelines
Pendent that allows you to bring back one dead person per year
Cat sized wyvern who will act as your pet
Cup that will always be fully filled with the nearest liquid
Hat that makes you immortal and unageing while you're wearing it
Door that can lead to any room on earth
Ring that can turn you into an animal once per day for up to three hours
Phone that contacts wish granting Fae (she will try to twist your words)
Ancient iron book (who knows what it does)
