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anime-addictt · 2 years

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Instinctual Variants-2

In the previous post, I did give a brief explanation on why we tag sp, sx, so to our enneagram and what they were, so let’s just go a bit more in depth in that.

Self-Preservation

This is probably the most rudimentary of all the instincts- the need to protect yourself, your materialistic needs, your immediate relation and surroundings. People leading with this instinct are more likely to:

Be extremely concerned about the quality of food they eat. They are the types who would most likely keep track of their calorie intake, solely due to the fact that not doing so would jeopardize their health.

Set up a financial plan/ be stingy so that they have enough money to avoid situations that would put their personal needs in trouble

Stay true to the comforts of their life. These people would focus more on their taste, their space, their comfort zone.

They have a very ‘self-interested’ view. ‘Secure yourself before helping others’ is one of their absolute motto.

BOUNDARIES. YOU CANNOT CROSS THEM TILL THEY CHOOSE TO LET YOU IN.

From the above points provided, you will notice that a huge part of self-preservation is the self. It’s always about what they would get, what they would need, how they would attain something to make themselves secure. It’s not necessary for them to follow all these bullet points. An Sp type can be solely focused on earning money at the cost of their health. Or they could be extremely health conscious to the point that they lavishly spend on the most healthiest protein shake. No matter what they choose to focus on, all of it comes down to protecting themselves by hoarding the resource they believe they lack.

Sp doms can look very different from each other based on their enneagram and their auxiliary function.

Sp/So usually function in a very business-like manner, due to the social instinct. They make use of their social instinct to secure their basic resources by connecting and interacting with the right people. However, unlike a social dom, they’ll be willing to let go of connections that no longer have a purpose. These types would usually prefer to operate alone, but at the same time wouldn’t really mind grouping up with like-minded people, if it helps them gather resources.

Some of the most common traits that I have observed in them are:

They like being with like-minded people who belong to a similar social background. A friend of mine once mentioned how comfortable she was in this group where all of them were the ‘nobodies’ of the class. (Notice that her bonding technique is very focused on finding comfort in people that have a lot in common)

They can easily fit in with a group but, unlike a so-dom, have trouble conforming to everything the group agrees on especially if it is really away from their comfort zone.

Has weirdly accepted the fact that they’re boring (?) and that it’s okay not to have anything unique about oneself.

Cannot handle intensity. They don’t understand why anyone in their right mind would run behind intensity. They also agree that many times, their main source of connection with another person is based on how secure they feel with someone, and not based on some random voodoo energy (that’s what they call sx).

A friend of mine admitted that she was a bit hurt by my way of connecting with people by sx energy since she believes that true form of connection only occurs when people talk and share their like and dislikes. Just walking away from people purely based on intensity is wrong because you never really see them for who they are.

They remind me of white noise. An ordinary noise in the beginning that grows onto you. Before you realize and understand what it is, you’re comfortably asleep to the softness that it brings. They are weirdly calming.

Sp/Sx on the other hand, is a lone wolf. Being so-blind makes them the most independent instinctual stacking. Their sx helps them have a very intimate connection with others. However, never expect anything more from the energy that they give off. They can be very nice, but ultimately, if you don’t serve a self-preservative purpose to these people, you’ll be dropped. And not in the nice way like an sp/so would do. They do come off as heartless, self-centered and egocentric, due to being so-blind.

Some of the most common traits that I have observed in them are:

Not really interested in the groups around them. Nor are they bothered if they can’t fit in.

Always has an air of indifference around them that is either extremely off putting or excitingly mysterious.

No matter how distant they are, there’ll be a clear distinction in the way they interact with people who they’re genuinely interested in, and in those they aren’t.

When they actually like someone, 1 out of the 10 wall that are built around them will open up.

They’re boundaries are stronger than the nuclear force attraction.

The sp/sx in my life are actually pretty confident about their appeal, but at the same time never really go out of their way to display this appeal like an sx dom would, unless they’re extremely sure of it.

Another interesting thing about my sp/sx friend is that he would never put anything or anyone above his basic needs. For example, if he has a homework due tonight, HE WILL walk out on every single person in that room, without bothering to explain how or why he’s doing it (even if he’s having the most sx-intense moment with someone).

He will never approach me or ask me for anything, till I offer to help him.

They remind me of a pitch black cave. I can’t see anything, but I know there’s a waterfall somewhere deep inside cause I can sense this cool misty breeze. And I eagerly keep searching for it.

#sp/sx #sp/so #self-preservation #enneagram #instinctual variants #sp-dom #anime mbti #anime enneagram

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maldrontheassassin · 2 years

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Ramblings: Night’s Cavalry, Godwyn & the Fell Omen

─// So we know that the Night’s Cavalry were funeral riders, that they’re capable combatants, were led at one point by the Fell Omen, can summon steeds infinitely (we know not what they give in return, if anything), and that they have various ashes of war pertaining to legitimately powerful combat maneuvers.

Which has been upsetting me because it feels like they are so much more important in the lore. They fit in this really odd place! We know of one funeral that would be properly big enough to get a unified honor guard to serve in. A funeral and burial that resulted in the successful placing of a body in the roots of the Erdtree itself.

In fact, donning black armor of mourning seems rather fitting for an honor guard who failed to protect their Lord. I believe that they may have been Godwyn the Golden’s former retinue, who rode during his funeral after the Night of Black Knives. In fact, that might actually lend to why they’re the “Night’s Cavalry”!

The magic when they resummon their steeds isn’t golden, but black and white, like Death Magicks. Though the Death rune doesn’t flash when they cast the rite, implying that it’s not any kind of declaration of allegiance like using most spells in the game. Perhaps it was an old art of Godwyn’s Elite in particular, granted from him that ‘gave life’ to form and function, and with his transition in half-death, the source of the magicks had changed as well. Seen more as an omen than anything else, none of the Cavalrymen would have ever suspected a thing. Their lord had died, and if his gifts to them still served, then superstition would imply that he was simply watching over them from the Erdtree.

Oh, how disturbingly close to the truth they were.

─// Finally, I want to discuss Morgott, the Veiled Monarch of Leyndell. When did he emerge during the Shattering? He was there for the second defense of Leyndell, but he would have had to emerge during the turmoil of the war. He was locked away, beneath the city, but broke free along with Mohg. I subscribe to the theory that Godfrey tried to visit the young Morgott, hence why he knows so many golden incantations specifically suited to war. I imagine that Godfrey taught him how to summon all manner of different weapons, probably to try and train him in all of them to find where his comfort lied.

However, as we see when we fight Margit and Morgott later? He uses every single one of them. Knives, swords, spears, hammers. Godfrey may have intended to find Morgott’s singular focus, but his son instead took everything he could and made it his own. I imagine that it was Godfrey himself that released the shackles upon his children once he was Tarnished, trying to take them with him. Morgott, beholden to the Golden Order that was casting his father out, heeded his mother’s will, and did not follow. Mohg, emboldened by his accursed blood, wished nothing to do with the Tarnished, or to be outside the Lands Between. His new dynasty required the Elden Ring to flourish.

Soon after, the Shattering. Demigod fought demigod, all to vie for the right to become Elden Lord. Margit would emerge during this time, stacking heroes’ and champions’ corpses high in the defense of the city, along the former honor guard of Godwyn the Golden, mourning alongside Fortissax. They had no lord who could hold ambition, and were dedicated to defending the Erdtree, where their lord was buried. They would not turn upon the Golden Order, for there was none to seduce them from its defense.

So naturally, once Morgott took the throne as King of Leyndell, and brandished his Great Rune in the name of the city and the Erdtree standing resplendent, their interests aligned, and they submitted to his command. The Fell Omen was placed to direct them, and, having been Godwyn’s retinue, were as welcoming of him as their Lord had been of Fortissax and the dragons. His duty, and their mourning may have made their relationship entirely tense and businesslike, though. A shame, since they both could have helped each other so much off the battlefield.

#// Anyways there's TK's ramblings for today #Long Post #Night’s Cavalry; Seen by Day | Elden Ring #A Tired; Worn Journal | Musings #Godwyn the Golden #Night's Cavalry #Morgott the Omen King #Elden Ring Speculation

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ilikekidsshows · 3 years

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Hey can you talk about the Agreste family. Four seasons have passed by and still we don't know anything about them. Why did Emilie use the Peacock Miraculous? How did Gabriel and Emilie find the Miraculous? What's the deal with the Graham de Vanilys? What about Nathalie and Gorilla? And how do the Bourgeois' and Tsurigis fit into this?

You know what's really interesting about the Parent Generation of Miraculous? How so many of them are connected. There's a reason people have hypothetically wondered if maybe Sabine or Tom could be connected to the rest as well, because so many Parent Generation characters are connected to another Parent Generation character in fictional version of the Six Degrees of Separation. Audrey was the one who kickstarted Gabriel's fashion career. Gabriel makes business deals with Tomoe. Emilie acted in André's film debut. André works closely with Roger. Roger is familiar with Anarka. Anarka is Jagged's ex. It's a very interwoven web and it also establishes that the kids' parents have pasts. They had lives before they were just Parental Units.

The Agreste/DeVanilly family is an interesting target of speculation, but a lot of the theorizing I've seen has focused on merely very surface level stuff. This is mostly because the Miraculous fandom in general has a preoccupation with treating pretty obvious facts as mysteries to be solved. For example, people are so focused on asking "Does Chloé deserve a redemption?" (it doesn’t matter, her arc will be what the plot requires) that they rarely wonder what’s up between Audrey and André even when we got blatant confirmation that Audrey cheated on André. Similarly, people are so busy asking "Does Gabriel love Adrien?" (yes, but selfishly) that they don't wonder what part Emilie played in Adrien's upbringing, even though Adrien’s abuse was going on even before she disappeared.

Emilie, Audrey and Tomoe all have suspicious things to them in the show. Audrey is away so much she could have been getting away with anything off screen, including cheating on her husband. She and Tomoe both got cutaways in the scene in 'Feast' where the Guardian Temple made the news. Tomoe's car Tatsu's symbol looks a lot like the symbol on Ryuko and the car is even named "dragon" (these Tomoe details have actually been noticed before but seemed to stop being discussed after season four started airing). Emilie is a nonentity and the only people who speak in her favor are Adrien and Gabriel, both of whom are Unreliable Narrators. Adrien also defends Gabriel, and Gabriel himself is absolutely convinced Adrien is some fragile, demure flower who must be protected specifically from other people, instead of a lonely boy in desperate need of friends. Adrien has been conditioned to excuse his abusers because they love him while abusing him, while Gabriel only sees what he can use to justify acting the ways he does. Of course Adrien would focus on Emilie being a loving mother and of course Gabriel would focus on the things that would confirm her to deserve the things he does in her name in his mind.

Actually, with Audrey's connection to Gabriel and André's to Emilie, in addition to the theory that one of the other actresses for 'Solitude' was Tomoe, my brother theorizes that Audrey, Tomoe and Emilie might all be connected, perhaps some type of villainous trio, like an evil Totally Spies. We have no idea what Gabriel’s role in such a setup would be, but his villainy would probably be entirely separate from theirs.

Then we get to the extremely limited Agreste household staff. Nathalie is blindly loyal. She'd literally do anything for Gabriel, including risking her life and committing acts of supervillainy. However, it's implied she only fell in love with Gabriel after seeing just how far he'd go to get Emilie back, meaning it's a new development, but Nathalie has been around for a while, or Gabriel wouldn't trust her with his secrets. What was her loyalty originally based on?

The Gorilla, on the other hand, is more of a symbol than a character. He mostly functions as a way to disrupt or unwittingly aid Adrien’s attempts to sneak off to turn into Cat Noir. Even his Akumatization revolved around this role. If he is in fact mute, he is very similar to guards in fairytales, who'd be struck blind so that they wouldn't view the beauty of whatever they're guiding and be tempted to steal it. I'm saying Gabriel, a man with a whole lot of secrets, hired a man who couldn't tell any tales. It's more a symbolic thing in terms of character design rather than Gabriel's actual in-universe reasoning specifically because other forms of communication also exist, as do languages that don't require spoken words. I mean, four seasons in and the closest thing he has to a name is his job descriptor. He might as well be called The Bodyguard. He’s a symbol.

As for the Graham de Vanilys, hooboy, where do I begin? Amelie’s "I'd smile while I stab you in the back and drink tea while you bleed out on the floor" manner is suspicious enough even without the blatant clues that she taught her son to be a manipulative thief and is proud of him for palming Gabriel's ring based on both his dishonest skills and getting the family heirloom back. Then we add the fact that Félix is, in fact, a master thief in the making, capable of robbing both Adrien and Gabriel without them noticing until they realize they're missing items. Then he moves like a rubberband man while avoiding three Akumas out to end him. Finally, he's fully willing to make a pact with Hawk Moth. He's utterly immoral, has almost superhuman abilities and he's clearly dedicated to the Graham de Vanily heritage. He has his mother's last name, implying his father did as well. The Graham de Vanilys have a family legacy that he's willing to maintain, with his focus on the family rings. And, considering how proud his mother was of his thievery, the family business might indeed be something criminal, most likely related to relieving people of their valuables.

To sum this essay up, we know very few actual facts about any of these characters, but one thing is certain: They All Are Suspicious as Hell.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #gabriel agreste #emilie agreste #audrey bourgeois #tomoe tsurugi #ml meta #long post

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akakeiiji · 4 years

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Headcanons for how the boys will react or what will they do when their S/O is sick but hides it from them? (For Tobio, Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, Iwa) please

-`,✎ Kageyama, Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima and Iwaizumi’s reaction to you hiding your fever from them

Kageyama Tobio

You would arrive at school flushed and tired, dressed in many layers but your ever so clueless boyfriend wouldn’t actually suspect anything

He’d greet you as usual and ask if you were cold or something despite the relatively warm weather

You didn’t want him to worry though so you just agreed with him and went on with your classes like normal

As the day went on though, your symptoms would start worsening

During lunchtime, you wouldn’t have the energy to leave your desk

Kageyama would go looking for you when you failed to arrive at your usual meeting place and found you fast asleep in your classroom

He’d scoff and call you a dumbass to himself but when placed his hand on your head and felt your warm temperature the small smile on his face would immediately turn into a frown

He’d shake you awake and the first thing you’d see is his concerned face

“Are you an idiot or something?”

He’d pull you up and support you as he walks you to the nurse’s office his admirers would stare at you two angrily the entire time

you can’t tell me he doesn’t have at least a few fangirls, i mean have you seen him??

He’d lecture you angrily the whole way to the infirmary

Though he’d mostly just be repeating “Dumbass!” and “You should have told me.” over and over again because he’s so worried and can’t focus on forming coherent sentences

You were sent home obviously and Kageyama would wait by your side at the infirmary the whole time till your ride came to take you home

He’d still be pouty and grumbling, upset over the fact that you forced yourself to school

But at the same time, he’d be feeding you a bit of your lunch, little by little so as to not upset your stomach

Once you were home, he’d be even more distracted and antsy during class than ever before

He wouldn't even be thinking of volleyball, just of you

HE’D SKIP PRACTICE FOR YOU

THE KAGEYAMA WILLINGLY MISSES PRACTICE FOR YOU, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT

He’d stop by the gym though and ask Sugawara or Daichi what he should get for you because he has no idea what to get sick people

He’d buy you your favorite snacks and drinks on the way to your house and spend the evening with you

He doesn’t really know what to do tbh, you’d have to instruct him on how to help you

He doesn’t get sick very often and whenever he does his sister usually takes care of him so he’s never been in the position of caring for someone else like this

But he tries his best and that’s what matters

He’s just an adorable little blueberry okay? Pls protect him

Bokuto Koutarou

Your disheveled appearance and lethargic state would literally fly over Bokuto’s head

He’s mainly focused on how happy he was to see you again, like how he always is in the morning before class

After a while though, Bokuto would notice that something was off

He’d tilt his head to the side and ask you if you were okay, concern evident in his eyes

You could already see Bokuto’s reaction if he found out how sick you actually were so you just told him you were a little tired

He’d frown and tell you not to overwork yourself, he’d then pull you into his chest to hug you in hopes that it would cheer you up or give you some energy

He’d freeze though, feeling just how high your body temperature was even through your layers of clothes

He’d pull you away and examine your face and finally realizes just how sick you were

Panic ensues

I shit you not, Bokuto would literally scoop you up in his arms and carry you all the way to the infirmary

“MAKE WAY PEOPLE, EMERGENCY HERE!”

“KOUTAROU! YOU DON’T HAVE TO CARRY ME—”

Akaashi would be walking to class and witness this scene from afar and just nope the fuck away from you two

He is literally so concerned, he knows that you just have a fever but he still can’t help but worry

He wouldn’t leave your side the entire time while waiting for your ride home, his hand never leaving yours

He’d beat himself up over the fact that he didn’t notice that something was wrong right away

He’d be in dejection mode the whole time during the rest of classes, his hair would get droopy and his little pout would never leave his lips

He’d spend most of his classes staring out of the window, sighing wistfully, thinking about you

He’d try to function normally and go to practice but Akaashi—knowing that it would be virtually impossible to pull him out of his moods this time—would send him home

He’d be moping the whole way home before an idea suddenly popped in his head, he should just visit you!!

He’d run all the way to your house, practically bouncing with anticipation

He’d be like a loyal puppy as he takes care of you, he’ll bring you literally anything you need, just name it and he’ll find it

He doesn’t care if you’re sick, he’s going to hug and kiss you all he wants

Needless to say, he ends up catching your fever as well and you two end up sick together

The volleyball team goes to visit you two after classes the next day and you two are basically just two red-nosed, lumps wrapped in blankets and heating pads

Konoha still has pictures and likes to show it to the team when they get sad

Oikawa Tooru

Good luck trying to hide your fever from him, he may not look like it but he’s hella perceptive even outside of the court

He’d wait by your lockers as usual in the mornings, probably chatting (and failing to wave off) some fangirls when you’d walk in wearing a thick sweater and wrapped in a scarf to hide your face

The small smile on his face would drop and he’d immediately be by your side, examining your face

“Tooru, what are you doing—?”

He’d place a hand on your forehead—ignoring your protests—and click his tongue, a hand coming up to rest on his hip

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You’re obviously sick.”

Dramatic brat, i love him so much

He’d grab your hand and march you all the way to the infirmary, telling you off the entire time

He’d tell you all about having to take care of your body and prioritizing your health over studies or something, as if he were such a great example of taking care of one’s body but you decided not to bring that up

He’d kind of be like a mom really as he watches the nurse take your temperature, his arms crossed and a concerned look evident on his face

You were obviously sent home not even after fifteen minutes of being in school

Oikawa would seem normal to most people, going about his day like usual but those who know him well can tell that he was bothered

His foot would be tapping rapidly the entire time during classes, his eyes always drifting to his watch to check the time

The minute that classes were dismissed, Oikawa was on his feet, bag already packed and ready, practically sprinting out of the building

“How’s my little patient doing?”

He’d refrain from kissing and hugging you though, unlike Bokuto he has some semblance of self-restraint despite wanting to do it sooo badly

He missed you a lot

Okay, fine, he gives a few kisses here and there

After taking care of you, making sure you ate and drank and stuff, Oikawa would fill you in on all the stuff you missed during classes

If you had the energy, he’d tutor you on all the lessons you missed

He’d also be the type to spoon-feed you your favorite food or soup, even if you insist that you could feed yourself he will still do it no matter what

A firm believer that laughter is the best medicine so he tries his best to keep your mood up

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Another clueless baby

He isn’t the best at reading people—especially outside of the court—so he doesn’t really notice anything wrong at first

He’d pick you up at your dorm like usual so that you could have breakfast together

You’d be visibly sluggish and flushed but he’d just assume you were tired or overworked

“Did you not get any sleep last night?”

You’d just wave him off, telling him that you were perfectly alright and that he didn’t need to worry

He would drop the subject but would make sure to keep a close eye on you

You wouldn’t eat much at all during breakfast which would just feed more to his worries

Then while you two were walking to class, you started getting lightheaded and had to lean on the wall for support

Ushijima was able to catch you as you stumbled, a deep frown on his face as he takes you to the infirmary, practically carrying you the whole way

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

He immediately disregards the fact that he’s gonna be late for class and stays with you at the infirmary

It isn’t obvious but anyone who knows Ushi well can tell that he’s really concerned and worried about you

The nurse instructs him to bring you back to your dorm and head to class

He only does the latter and literally skips classes for you

You would try to get him to go back to class but this boy is stubborn, he doesn’t want to leave you alone and wants to take care of you

I say take care of you loosely, he’s just like Kageyama, he has absolutely no idea what to do

He knows he needs to get medicine, get some food and water in you and stuff but asides from that he’s clueless

He’d go to Google and you two would spend some time researching on how to properly care for someone sick

You two end up falling into a rabbit hole of weird articles and get distracted

Ushijima will make sure you never have to leave your bed except for when you need to use the bathroom, he doesn’t want you up

Most of the time would be spent in silence, you two doing your own thing because Ushijima wouldn’t want to risk catching your fever

He has to take care of his body okay? He can’t play if he’s sick so he’s probably going to wear a mask when he’s with you and will always have a bottle of rubbing alcohol with him at all times sakusa is proud

He wouldn't get upset over the fact that you hid your fever from him but he just doesn’t understand why you chose to hide it from him and force yourself to go to class

When you explain that you don’t want to miss any of your lessons and fall behind, Ushijima would just shake his head and tell you a matter a factly that you need to take care of yourself

“Your health should be your top priority, (Y/N). Next time you’re feeling unwell just tell me.”

HE CARES SO MUCH OKAY, PLEASE MY HEART

Iwaizumi Hajime

You are not going to get past Iwaizumi and you knew that so you’d try to avoid him the morning before class

Iwa has a sixth sense when it comes to these sort of things, it’s how he always knows when Oikawa is overworking himself or when his teammates are down

He’d immediately seek you out and once he sees you he can tell that you’re sick instantaneously

I feel like Iwa is an older brother and knows the symptoms when he sees them because he takes care of his siblings all the time

He’d touch your forehead, throw his blazer over you and rush you towards the infirmary

He starts lecturing you immediately, calling you an idiot for not taking care of yourself but you know he means it out of love

He’d give you a list of instructions to do when you get home, typing it rapidly on his phone at the same time making sure to send them to you in case you forget

“—drink a lot of water okay? Make sure you have a bottle by your bed. I’ll come by after classes, just text me if you need anything, I can drop by the store on the way.”

Basically Iwa is a super mom, okay? He knows just what to do for fevers, he knows the best medicines to use and the best food to eat

He may not seem like it but he is super caring also probably the most normal out of these boys

He’d check his texts after classes and as promised, would drop by the store and buy whatever you asked for along with stuff you need to deal with fevers (electrolyte drinks, meds, soup, etc.)

He’d walk into your room and immediately check your temperature and make sure you’ve already eaten and have been drinking water

He’d use more traditional home remedies to help you get better because that’s what his family always did

He’d also take out a Vicks vaporub and start slathering you in that shit

Half-Filipino Iwa? Half-Filipino Iwa.

He’d be like Ushijima and try to keep his distance from you at the same time, he doesn’t want to catch your fever

But at the same time he always finds himself back by your side, he just can’t help it

Constantly asks you if you’re okay, if you need anything, if the room is too hot

He’ll do anything to make your life a little easier and make sure you’re comfortable and resting well

His main priority is to get you up and well in no time, he doesn’t want to see you bedridden any longer

Basically Iwa is the epitome of “aggressively cares for you”

It may not be obvious but Hajime has one of the biggest hearts in the series and he deserves the literal world

i love him so much please i can literally write a whole essay about how much i love this boy

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writemyaceattorneys · 3 years

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hey hey franziska anon from turnaboutyandere here 👀 so excited for this blog! i feel obligated to request for some general franziska and edgeworth headcanons please ✨

Of course Franziska Anon!!!! I’m glad that you have obliged me to talk about my favourite trilogy prosecutors, husband Miles and wife Franziska are absolutely fabulous angels.

I hope that you like these headcanons. I’m also really excited for this blog and I can’t wait to get into running it .

Spoilers: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trilogy

TW: Franziska’s whip

💎Franziska von Karma💎

💎 Relationships are a concept that are very alien to Franziska. From a young age she was taught to only seek perfection in her career, that trivial feelings such as love should always come second or not come at all.

💎 Because of this, she soon came to realise that she was very unprepared for the sudden deluge of emotion that struck her after interacting with S/O a few times.

💎 She would probably be very angry with S/O at first. How dare this foolish fool just waltz on into her life and make her feel all of these feelings and just be so oblivious to their effect on her. S/O would be on the brunt end of Franziska’s wrath (namely her whip) during this time period.

💎 It would absolutely get to the point where everyone around Franziska and S/O would realise what’s going on. Getting Franziska to confess to S/O would be nigh on impossible because of her stubbornness so it would be up to S/O to confess to Franziska first, if of course, they felt the same way.

💎 Good news! They do, (although, they had been getting the distinct feeling that Franziska didn’t like them because every time they went to talk to her, they’d walk away with several whip lashes) so S/O plans to confess their feelings to Franziska

💎 Franziska would be in shock when S/O first confesses to her, as much as she had been wishing for this to happen it was still something that she would never expect could happen to her.

💎 In terms of affection, Franziska is still going to be very closed off at first. She doesn’t have much experience in terms of PDA or even private displays of affection so S/O is going to have to be initiating a lot of it. Over time, Franziska would probably clutch onto S/O’s hand if she was angry and would very much appreciate it if S/O rubbed her hand with their thumb.

💎 She would absolutely love to show her S/O off to her colleagues!! She’d bring them to fancy dinners, conferences or whatever else she was invited to as her plus one. She sees it as her own form of affection, while she isn’t 100% comfortable with initiating more personal affection yet, she will more than happily speak about her S/O if prompted (given that the person asking isn’t a foolish fool of course).

💎 If S/O were to learn some German in order to speak to her, she’d be so flattered and would probably blush, depending on how S/O decides to compliment her, she would absolutely get embarrassed.

“Hey Franziska! du siehst heute schön aus.”

“H-Hör auf mit dieser Torheit... aber danke, mein Sonnenschein.”

💎 All in all, Franziska is very grateful for S/O’s presence in her life and she hopes to one day be able to give back in tenfold the affection and support that S/O has given to her, until that day, however, she is more than happy to bask in the warmth that her S/O provides.

Translations from the text:

Du siehst heute schön aus. - You look beautiful today.

Hör auf mit dieser Torheit... aber danke, mein Sonnenschein - Stop this foolishness...but thank you, my Sunshine.

♟Miles Edgeworth♟

♟ Very similarly to Franziska, Miles is also very inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationships. He was more focused on making his mentor proud and didn’t really focus on anything to do with dating. Because of this, he is also very oblivious to how other people feel about him which means that even if he had feelings for S/O, he wouldn’t be the one to initiate a relationship.

♟ Any form of romance with Miles Edgeworth is going to be prime slow burn material. It’ll take him a good several months to even consider forming anything closer than a professional working relationship with S/O, before anything else he would come to appreciate and admire the hard work that S/O put into whatever they did.

♟ Again, S/O is probably going to have to be the one to confess how they feel to Miles and they are going to have to be very upfront about it to avoid a miscommunication. The confession would absolutely happen somewhere privately and once Miles realised that he wasn’t the only one with these strange feelings about the other, he’d feel absolutely relieved (although he’d be sure to hide it with a wry smile and his normal formal and cool manner of speaking).

♟ Miles is also someone who is very inexperienced with public and private displays of affection and the initiation of such acts will never fail to make him incredibly flustered. He might be a bit more put off by public affection and would seize up if S/O were to as much as hold his hand in public, let alone embrace him or kiss him. This is something that he’d work on over time so at some point, he’ll be more open to holding hands in public.

♟ Despite his inexperience, Miles would probably be the most comfortable with privately displayed affection, whether that be in his office when it's just the two of them or at either his or S/O’s home. He’d absolutely be down to hold hands while he works and if he was feeling particularly worn down, he might just pull his S/O into his arms while he sits and 2just lay his head against their thorax.

♟ It’s pretty much common knowledge within the fanbase that Edgeworth has a dog at this point, so a good way to spend time outside of work would be to go with Edgeworth while he walks his dog. Also bonus points if Edgeworth’s dog also likes S/O, animals are very perceptive and as far as Edgeworth is concerned, if his dog likes and trusts S/O then there’s a good chance that he can do the same.

EXTRA! bonus points here if during the walk, Miles’ dog keeps looping the lead around both Miles’ and S/O’s knees and they end up falling into each other.

♟ Routine affection is also very important to Miles, he’d make sure to have time set aside during the day to be receptive to affection and once he gets bold enough to initiate affection and romantic gestures himself, I can guarantee that there’d be at least half an hour that he’d take out of his day to just hold S/O in his arms.

♟ Miles is also one to show off, so S/O can fully expect to be brought to all of the fancy functions and conferences that Miles has to go to. He’d also take them along on all of his international excursions so if anything, S/O can expect to become a lot more well travelled. He’d take S/O to see all of the sites in whatever country he was visiting and he would absolutely take advantage of the fact that he probably knows several European languages to further impress S/O.

He would also teach S/O different languages so that they can communicate too.

♟ One thing that Miles would definitely be concerned about is his fans. He is no stranger for receiving bouquets of flowers and other lavish gifts from people who are no doubt trying to woo him. However, he wouldn’t stand for any slander against S/O and if these fangirls grew to be too much, he’d make it abundantly clear to both his fanbase and whoever checks his packages that he won’t be receiving anything else from those who only seek to interfere in his private life.

(Sorry Wendy Oldbag, I don’t think you’ll be getting your ‘Edgy-poo’ anytime soon)

♟ Miles would be fiercely protective of his S/O. If he thought for a moment that anything that he was about to get himself into was going to put S/O in danger, he’d try to keep them as far removed from it as possible. It would absolutely wreck him if S/O was hurt and even in a non-yandere situation he’d make it his mission to make sure that anyone who put S/O at risk was brought to justice.

#franziska anon #ace attorney x reader #franziska von karma #franziska von karma x reader #miles edgeworth #miles edgeworth x reader #x reader #fanfic #ace attorney #headcanons

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Right behind you:(Bodyguard!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x M!Celebrity!reader)

This is my offering for this week’s #writerwednesday from @autumnleaves1991-blog, which this week is joint with @flightlessangelwings’ Jey’s Pride celebration! 🥳

The verbal prompt was: glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

The visual prompt is the photo below.

This gave me the idea for a very quickly written one shot with bodyguard!Santi and male celebrity reader! I hope you like it!

Warnings: food mentions; mentions of panic attack / hyperventilating. Mentions of sensory overload. One mention of Santi “sucking off” reader. Language. TYPOS, undoubtedly.

Rating: mature for mentions of oral sex but no explicit / actual smut.

Gender stuff: he/him pronouns / masc! terms of endearment used for reader. Implied that reader is a penis owner - no other physical descriptions besides reader wearing a suit and some make-up.

Genre: angst then mainly fluff and happiness! Hurt / comfort, I guess.

ALSO: BONUS CAMEO FROM ANOTHER OSCAR CHARACTER. Did you spot him?

You perch on the couch in your suite, taking steadying breaths and trying desperately to ward off hyperventilation as your bodyguard grips your trembling hand firmly in his. The air is quaking in and out of your lungs and you can no longer help the tears which spike in your eyes and spill over on to your cheeks.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he crouches before you, and you can’t help the surge of guilt that this is so far outside of his job description. He’s meant to protect you, not comfort you. His work centres on your physical well-being, but you can’t count the times he’s bolstered your emotional well-being too. Then again, this is the only time he’s done so quite as blatantly in front of the rest of your staff, perhaps.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cry, sweetie,” your make-up artist - who will not be getting rehired you decide suddenly- flaps around you, attempting to fuss over you with a tissue. Her panic about her work being ruined at the worst possible moment is plain as day, and it only makes your chest constrict further.

“This isn’t helping” is the only thought blaring loudly in your mind, but you cannot for the life of you push the words out right now. You shut your eyes in an attempt to block it all out. To subdue the sensory overload.

You are thankful that your bodyguard intuits that sentiment on your behalf when you can’t, and you hear his voice is coming from a different angle now, his head whipped sharply sideward and up towards the offending MUA.

“For real? Ffff....” you close your eyes and hear Santi bite down on a curse. You’d laugh if you weren’t so preoccupied, trying desperately to focus on his voice amidst the chaotic, intersecting hubbub of the room. “Ma’am, could you please back the shit up?” He bites. Apparently he can’t stifle the cursing entirely.

Your limp hand travels along with his as he waves his arm around emphatically. “In fact. Out. Everyone out. Now. Please.”

His request slices through the nervous air in the room, his words deep and commanding and delivered with an authority that you doubt anyone would dare question. This man must be obeyed, and in the back of your mind you congratulate yourself for your decision to take a chance on hiring this moody ex-soldier with creaky knees. When he needed to he could certainly clear a room. And on top of that, he offers you a whole lot more besides.

Indeed, here he is, going above and beyond, kneeling on said creaky knees for you. Protecting you, and comforting you too.

Your eyes are still closed as the room gradually quietens, until it is so still you could hear a pin drop. Until you can hear the steady rise and fall of Santi’s breath. Until you can hear the delicate wet noise of his lips parting so his tongue can skim his lips. You can hear him swallow.

As you hear the sound of the final remaining person shuffle out, and the door gently click closed behind them, you are finally able to peel open your eyes. You are able finally able to release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth, an indent having formed where you have bitten down so hard you have threatened to draw blood.

Santi is as still as death as he waits, and as soon as he hears that final click, he is moving. Only then, does he allow his (thin) veneer of professionalism to collapse. He allows the flats of his palms to snake up your thighs, rubbing reassuring shapes into you, and you feel the familiar heat and press of of him through the luxe fabric of your suit trousers.

“Look at me, cariño,” he soothes, in a deep, fond tone, entirely different to those bitten off commands reserved for the rest of your entourage. “It’s just you and me now. Look at me, baby.”

You do. You look into his big brown eyes and you and he could be the only two people in the world, never mind the room. You sniff, and you fumble away a stray tear before settling your palms on top of his.

You slow your breathing and Santi flashes you a small, proud smile. “That’s it, honey. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

Then, he flinches, his head leaning to the side as though he could physically retreat from whatever angry voice is no doubt blaring into his ear. Then, he makes a point of taking the earpiece out altogether, letting it hang over the collar of his white shirt.

He tugs in a huge exhale too, letting go of the tension he held in his body through his concern for you, although his eyes slit flit around your face in residual concern.

“They’ll be mad you did that,” you warn, with a nod to his earpiece.

“Whatever. It’s not my job to get you to the red carpet on time. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Your job? Hmm? That all I am to you?”

He flashes you a lopsided smile as you tease him. “I’m a lucky man. My job happens to be a thing I love doing outside of work too.” You lift your palm to his face, the familiar texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. “Now, honey. No rush. But do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You look away from him then as you realise he won’t let you distract him enough to avoid the true issue at hand, but his hands are still languidly smoothing your thighs, and you know he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to before you’re ready. He might dole out some tough love, eventually, but not until he is sure that you can take it. He lets you fumble until you find the words. “It’s... even the thought of it, Santi. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. All those cameras. All those eyes on me, I...”

Santi shushes you, as he hears the resurgent panic creep into your voice, even as your fingertips idly trace over his handsome features, a self-soothing unconscious thing, as he continues to kneel before you.

But while you may be panicked, he’s smiling. Looking up at you earnestly. “You deserve all those eyes on you, hermoso.” You don’t mind at all that when his voice comes out now it’s both fond and a just a little dirty as his own, very attentive eyes sweep over you.

“I don’t know...” You nibble on your lip again.

“Baby. You deserve this night. You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re so talented. And holy shit. You look so fucking hot in this suit I can barely function.” You let out a small, tentative laugh, which Santi seems pleased by, his own eyes creasing at the corners in return. “Besides,” he continues, tone more earnest now, his thick brows raised as he hammers his point home. “I’ll be right there. Just a few steps behind you, okay, mi Principe?”

You take one more deep breath, expelling it slowly and steadily through the “o” of your mouth, and Santi can’t resist your pursed lips a moment longer. Yet, for all his comments about how hot you are, his kiss is not as devouring as you might expect. It is a soft, tender thing, barely skimming your lips, and yet even so it appears to inspire a reverent heat in him, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek as his eyes remain closed a moment longer. As he expels a gust of disbelieving air at how you make him feel from this alone.

“Or,” he proposes, his voice breathy. “We could sack this whole thing off? We could order chilli cheese fries to the room and I can suck you off until you can’t think straight?”

You kiss him again, this time giving him just a hint of tongue, even as you laugh musically into his open, increasingly eager mouth.

“Appealing as that sounds, my love, I probably shouldn’t miss this...” you nod your head towards the door “...lil thing.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Santi concedes with a fond, lopsided smile, his eyes flashing with adoration, until he reluctantly schools himself back to something resembling professionalism. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, and for his... eagerness to subside, before asking “You ready?”.

You nod. “Ready as I’m gonna get.”

“There he is. That’s my man.” Santi gives your thighs one more squeeze before he stands, and you swear you hear his poor knees creak; and then, he is replacing his ear piece, his face becoming all business as he presses two fingers to his ear. “Kolpakov? We’re ready to move out. Everyone in position?”

He awaits the response before turning back to you, practically gasping as he sees you stood there in all your glory for the first time. His eyes sweep up and down the length of you. He shakes his head incredulously, switching his mic off for a moment more. “Fuck me. You look like a fucking dream.”

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond in a loving, flirtatious tone, dancing your fingertips across his chest as you sweep past him towards the doorway and he turns with you as if in your thrall.

As you prepare, taking another deep breath and gripping the handle, Santi reaches for your arm, delaying you for just another moment. “Santi,” you laugh. “We can do the chilli cheese fries later, I promise.”

But that’s not quite what he has in mind. He looks at you intensely, and he cups your face in his broad palm. “Don’t forget. You deserve those eyes on you. But if you get overwhelmed, know that my eyes are on you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The sentiment and sincerity with which he says this makes your mouth fall open in shock. Makes your chest constrict with happiness rather than nerves - but you aren’t afforded the opportunity to respond. In the next moments, the door is flung open, and your entourage is flooding you, barking directions and whisking you down the staircase and out on to the red carpet.

You are pulled away from Santi, and you don’t get to be near him again, besides a quick, surreptitious whisper into the shell of your ear as he follows you out the door “we need to talk about your ass in these pants because holy shit” - but that is all you can steal.

True to his word though, wherever you go he is right behind you. He is there with a firm arm to form a protective wall should a photographer come too close, or a fan get too handsy over a barrier. He is standing, stern and formidable to your rear as you provide sound bites to the tv stations forming a line up to the venue (and, trying very hard not to ogle your ass in these pants, probably).

He’s right behind you, designed to fade into the background in every sense. For all his charisma, he’s good at it. Not drawing attention. Even his suit is designed to be non-descript.

But... that’s not where he should be, you realise.

And, when you are almost at the end of the carpet, you stop in your tracks. You hesitate, and you turn around, your gaze instantly finding him in the crowd. He looks concerned, alarmed, as though you may have gotten the jitters again and like you might be about to do a runner.

But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

In fact, you are more calm and sure than you have been all evening, looking at his befuddled, deer in headlights expression as all the attention suddenly falls on him. He has some big talk and a tough exterior, but the centre of him is soft, and you love that about him.

And so, a cautious smile blooms on your face as you settle firmly on your plan of action, and you walk determinedly in the “wrong” direction, going against the stream of attendees and making a beeline for your love, as he, for once -your man of action- stands frozen in confusion.

Then, when you arrive at him you stop, placing both your hands flat on the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down.

“What are you-?” he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

“Santi, my love. This is ridiculous. I don’t want you behind me. I want you by my side. Where you should be. So, fuck it. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to this premiere?”

He answers with a smile. With sparkling eyes. With his arms flung around your waist. With the press of his curved lips against yours, and a slip of his supple tongue. “Baby. I’ll always be by your side.” His hands slip a little lower. “Or - you know - sometimes right behind you.” He winks at you. God, you adore this idiot.

So, you wrap your arms around him, guffawing fondly into his neck before kissing him again, more deeply, not caring who’s watching. Your face splits with a beaming smile as you break from the embrace and link your arm into his, proceeding to walk up the carpet again: together this time.

“Fuck me though, honey,” Santi leans over to confide in you as he straightens up his tie, as if suddenly noticing the photographers for the first time now that they are noticing him. “You could have warned me you were going to french me on the red carpet, I would have put on a better suit.”

You laugh warmly as he continues to babble, and you reassure him that he looks perfect.

You know he’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s the nervous one now - you can tell. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you reassure. “Just you and me, remember?”

No-one else in the world.

“Jesus. How do you do this?” he asks, balking at all of the camera flashes going off in his face, his voice choked.

Luckily, Kolpakov - his second in command- figures out what’s happening and takes the cue to intervene, shifting the line back just a little to give the two of you some space. A good job too as you see beads of sweat forming on your love’s brow.

“How do I do this?” you ponder. “Well, I always have you to protect me, right?” You squeeze his arm tenderly. “And I’ll protect you now, my darling.”

This- having him by your side? You have no doubt that this feels right. It is where he has been all along, albeit only in the shadows. In private moments. But tonight, as he encouraged you into the spotlight, you realised how little you cared for hiding. You need him with you.

“Jesus,” Santi chuckles, looking around and trying to take everything in. “The boys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one. I didn’t even tell them we were dating.”

“What the hell, Garcia?!” you chide fondly, mouth open in a shocked “o”, before beginning to chatter and banter away with him as you easily fall into step together. Distracting him from his nerves like he always does for you.

With Santi by your side, you no longer care about all of the other eyes on you. All of the camera flashes. The crowds. Those watching at home.

You’re proud of your achievements. You’re proud of your relationship. And besides, the only eyes on you which you pay any heed to are his. Santiago’s gorgeous brown eyes, which, right now, shine with nothing but pride.

Yours shine right back.

You think he is the one who deserves all eyes on him, tonight.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #writer wednesday #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #male reader #m!reader #mlm

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

Liquid Pain Part 2

Part 1

@shydragonrider @the-sky-writes

Warnings: reluctant caretaker, feverish whumpee, attempted drugging, betrayal, tylenol, child abduction mention, delirium

Villain's eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep conscious. Hero knelt beside him on the small cot he was bedridden on with a wet cloth in hand. She knew she had to do it- bring down the raging fever- but it still didn't seem right.

Sure, according to Sidekick, Villain had nothing to do with Jasmine Rose's sudden disappearance, but what if he did? The possibility was still in the air, right? Villain was a criminal and not exactly innocent.

Suddenly, a flying hand gripped Hero's wrist weakly. She looked down to see Villain gazing at her with a dulled expression. His pale face was so sweaty that it looked like he just finished swimming. Eyebrows were greasy and drenched, hair was slicked back, lips parted. He looked miserable.

"I remember," he rasped.

"What Villain? What do you remember?" Hero asked hurriedly, grabbing back at his hand.

"The... the..." Villain's voice trailed off as his eyes rolled slightly into his head. Hero shook him and tapped his cheek. His eyes slowly drifted back into their state of somewhat focus.

"Hospital," he whined, staring at Hero. "Called for 'mergency."

Hero sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. This wasn't going to help find Jasmine whatsoever.

"I don't care," she growled. "I don't care about that, or you in general. All I want to do is find my daughter."

Villain let out a small cry and looked away from Hero. His glistening and flushed cheeks seemed to grow paler very, very quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing quietly.

But Hero was unrelenting. She glared down at Villain's whimpering form with vindication, her nose crumbling into a sneer.

Even after a minute or two of incessant crying, however, Villain did not stop. His face was rosy red with tearstained cheeks. Hero's chin quivering, tears forming in the back of her own eyes.

No. She couldn't show weakness. She had to be strong and prove her point.

She ended up collapsing to the ground sobbing anyways. Hero grabbed Villain in a hug, saying loudly,

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't treat you like that."

Villain let out a blubbery noise and then was silent, burying his head into Hero's shoulder.

"I just miss her so much," Hero whispered. "that I don't know how to function anymore."

Suddenly a hand laid on Hero's shoulder. She flinched then looked up to see Sidekick looking down at her with a warm cup of hot coco.

"Here," she said, dragging Hero to her feet and sitting her on the cot by Villain. She put the mug in Hero's hand and crouched in front of Villain's head.

"His fever is high," Sidekick stated, brushing the sweaty locks out of the ill man's face. Blearily, he looked up at her like she was the mosr compassionate person in the world- which, to him at this given moment was most likely the case.

Hero nodded in agreement, feeling very guilty for snapping at him. Especially when he was this sick and vulnerable.

But she still didn't trust him, though he really couldn't do much other than moan in distress.

Sidekick excused herself and came back with a wet rag. Hero scooted over to give her sidekick some more room, trying not to notice the fact that she had a cloth right there and Sidekick didn't use it. Maybe she just didn't see it.

"Shoot," she said. "I forgot the fever meds, can you go get some? Hero?"

Hero looked up. "Sure," she said and walked down the hall.

In the kitchen was a peculiar smell. Curious, Hero looked in to see a chicken noddle soup brewing on the stove. She smiled, and was about to continue towards the bathroom when an interesting waft of rotten eggs hit her nose.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Hero walked into the room.

It looked pretty normal, messy but normal. Hero looked around, then almost vomited when she saw it.

A bottle of pills, of very illegal pills.

Hero rushed to the sink and dumped the hot chocolate. Sure enough, on the bottom of the cup was two white tablets.

"Oh my gosh," Hero murmured, bringing her hand to her mouth in utter shock that Sidekick had tried to drug her and- Hero went and looked into the soup- was going to try and drug Villain.

And now that same lady was coddling his forehead in the other room.

Crap.

Hero ran back, grabbed a knife on her way out, and stashed it into her belt. She sprinted into the room where Villain was sleeping, only to find Sidekick still wiping his face.

"Get up," Hero growled, hand behind her and slightly wavering over the hilt of the wooden kitchen knife.

Sidekick scoffed and made an odd face as if she thought Hero was joking, but still stood up with her hands raised in mock surrender.

Hero, however, saw the confusion and annoyance in her otherwise amused gaze.

"Wow, am I under arrest?" Sidekick drawled, chuckling lightly. She angled her head down and smiled broadly, but Hero saw it falter.

"Step away from Villain." Hero walked so she was closer to her ward, ready to protect him. With him in this state, he definitely did not have the strength to defend himself.

Sidekick's cheery face fell then darkened. "Oh dear, you saw the drugs didn't you," she purred, stepping towards Hero. "I bet you are wondering why too. Probably more curious about that than actually protecting Villain."

Hero didn't respond. She knew that Sidekick was partially right, but she still didn't want to give her that satisfaction.

"Dear." Sidekick laid a hand- the hand that Hero once cherished as a sign of comfort- on Hero's shoulder. Hero shook it off, earning a wiry grin from Sidekick.

"Cat got your tongue?" Sidekick joked, nudging Hero's shoulder.

"Get out of my house," Hero ordered, feeling her own gaze narrow. "Now."

Sidekick snarled then growled in a low voice, right in Hero's ear. "I kidnapped your daughter."

Hero didn't have the time to react before Sidekick snapped her fingers and vanished into thin air.

"No!" Hero screamed, slashing aimlessly at the air with a passionate scream. Then, she sunk to the ground, throat thick with sobs.

"No," she whimpered, leaning against the cot and crying softly. Villain mumbled something to her, very incoherent, but Hero understood it as if he was an experienced speech giver.

"I'm sorry," he said, weakly brushing his fingers against her shoulder. Then, his eyes drifted shut and Hero was left to cry in silence.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #sidekick whumper #hero x villain #vomit mention #feverish whumpee #attempted drugging #delirium #heros and villains #child abduction mention #betrayal #whump #whump writing #whump community

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allisondraste · 3 years

Text

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb. Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her. She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?” His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply. There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her. Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction. What more could he possibly want from her? Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers. Surely someone else could take it from there. Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end. Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier. It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor. Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet. “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded. Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death. But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time. She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared. Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost. Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.” She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?” It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped. Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence. It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink. She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands. She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead. Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault. They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills. She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes. The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused. It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done. EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war. Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final. And she was entirely alone. The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms. She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind, she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so. For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die. She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal. This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic. She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been. Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone. Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to. Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her. In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative. She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room. Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed. I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her. They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for. She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own. On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War. A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone. She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before. They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher. She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month. It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude. A month . She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends. This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation. I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation. She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it. To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand. Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both. There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again. “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused. She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard? I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently. His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried. He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments. She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough. Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her. Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast. She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given. He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it. I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded. “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned. Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?” His words were pointed but not directed to her. “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse. “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands. She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically. “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something. Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside, “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue. Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door. She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard. The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through. Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her. The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same. Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along. Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean. Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival. They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders. She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night. She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb. She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #femshep #shakarian #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic #my writing

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moony-marvuders · 4 years

Note

Hiii! ❤️ I have a request pleaseeee with Remus (young) and a hufflepuff reader 🥰

could I possibly be where the reader is super shy and always has their nose in a book, wallflower like but is in a relationship with Remus and one of the other guys upsets her? ❤️

I absolutely love when a x reader reflects me personally like this! I would adore to write it ! I hope you enjoy.

paring: young!remus x hufflepuff!reader + platonic! with the marauders and lily.

warnings: angst. swearing. sirius being kind of an asswipe, m*dblood mentioning, panic attack.

You loathed potions, its was the absolute worst. You could have sworn Slughorn had something personal against you, especially when he had assigned permanent seats to everyone, after a rather eventful prank, obviously carried out by Sirius and James. That was unbeknownst to Slughorn, as nobody had come forward in who had slipped his morning coffee with tainted, dog haired polyjuice potion. Thus leading to an assigned seating.

You were perfectly fine where you had been sitting, with your boyfriend, Remus. He made you feel comfortable, especially considering the class was always so utterly loud. Many times you had wished to leave, the sensory overload being too much to handle at times. But Remus would place a hand upon your thigh, calming you down through the loud laughter that came from the rest of the table.

Not often were you participating in “The Marauders” shananigans, but of course you had been pooled within the “group” losing your seat next to Remus, who was now at the very back with Severus. You gave Remus an apologetic look as Slughorn continued to separate everyone from their tables.

James was forced to sit off to the side, closer to the front, making it almost impossible to admire Lily, whom sat near the back.

Peter was now sitting on the opposite end of the front, from where James was situated.

And you were situated in the middle table, with Sirius. Obviously Slughorn had trusted you enough to keep an eye on the rowdy boy, but sitting next to Sirius everyday?

That would be pure torture.

You loved Remus’s friends, because they loved him. But you had never really felt “apart of the group.” Half of that being your own fault, nose always caught in a book in any given social functioning that you had been invited to. Too shy to speak, or even play truth or dare. You sat amongst his friends, listening intentively to their many conversations in which you were never apart of. You enjoyed it that way, it was who you were.

But some days they didn’t understand why you had been this way. Annoyingly so, they would often talk behind your back when they hadn’t thought you could hear.

“ She doesn’t say a word to us!”

“ What does Remus even see in her?”

“ Shut up you lot! We should just be happy for him.”

Overhearing this had hurt you many times before, but you had always hid your hurt behind your kind eyes when assuring Remus that everything was alright. But this only made it harder to talk to them, you felt as though they hated you enough already, that the effort didn’t seem like it would have been enough.

Needless to say the uncomfortable and overwhelming silence, and glances between Sirius and you was enough to make you nervously and slowly grab your muggle book from the bag that sat amongst your feet. Opening it where the bookmark had been, hiding half of it with your potions book, as you pretended to follow along to the lecture.

It had been not even 15 minutes before Sirius was tapping your shoulder and complaining to you, “ Who does he think he is eh? Moving all of us.” You shrug at his words, barely picking your eyes up from the page within your book as he continued on.

“ Can’t he take a joke?” You didn’t feed into his desperate attempts at conversation, too scared to get caught by Slughorn, and too invested within your book.

Sirius went quiet for a moment, realization washing over him as he came to the conclusion you wouldn’t dare utter a word. It had been his final straw. It wasn’t that he was angry at you, or particularly had it out for you, he just had assumed you were stuck up, perhaps even more than Lily had been, and then again, she didn’t ignore the boys, she played along.

“ Do you ever fucking talk?” He said this a bit louder than he had expected. And it stung more that he had chosen such a foul Muggle word to spit at you. You couldn’t look in his direction, your whole body froze at his words. Surely it hadn’t been that bad, he was simply frusterated. It still stung, considering the other judgemental things he had uttered behind your back.

“ Seriously? What is wrong with you?” He spoke again, this time sparking you to stand up, quickly pushing your belongings within your bag, and rushing out. Ignoring Slughorn’s call of your name.

You ran through the corridors, a panic settling itself within your chest as you searched for somewhere to be alone.

Remus would have ran after you, he tried, but Slughorn warned him against it, threatening to take away house points if anyone else moved from their seats.

After class though, he rushed after Sirius, blocking him in the corridor, against a wall. “ Bloody hell Sirius- What did you say?” He questioned, far too aggressive. But Sirius didn’t hold back.

“ Get- off of me-” He pushed Remus, only causing Remus to get more aggressive, pushing him back to the wall.

“ Tell me Sirius!” Sirius couldn’t help but laugh at Remus attempting to protect you of all people. The one that ignored them, that acted as if she was as odd as Severus. Perhaps if Remus hadn’t been blind, they would bully you as they did him, Sirius thought.

Remus could see James and Peter out of the corner of his eye, James attempting to wedge himself in between his two best friends.

“ Merlin’s beard!” He exclaimed, getting in between, “ Get off of each other!” Remus stood back, still seething with anger, watching Sirius still having a playfully mischievous smile dancing upon his lips.

James turned to Remus, calmly, still in between them, “ What has you peeved Moony?” Remus’s eyes landed back to Sirius’s form.

“ He made y/n rush out of class!” James turned to Sirius, sighing.

“ Padfoot- what could you have possibly said to the poor girl?” Sirius wasn’t afraid of telling them, in fact he had wanted, no- yearned for months to give you a piece of his mind.

“ I asked her what the bloody hell was wrong with her- why she ignores us like we’re bloody mudbloods-” That really set Remus off, but he couldn’t help but to rush to find you rather than fight with his ignorant best friend.

“I’ll be havin a fucking word with you later.” Remus spat at him, before rushing off to find you.

He had searched nearly everywhere within the castle for you, it would have been much easier with the map, but it was within James’ possession. He had no idea where you were, missing his other class in attempt to search.

He neared an empty classroom with caution, soft whimpering coming from inside, a cry he was almost sure had to be yours.

Slowly opening the door, stepping in with the lightest foot, before calling out your name, “y/n? love?” You didn’t call out, or make yourself known, waiting for him to come to the corner you had situated yourself in.

When doing so, he acted fast, wrapping his arms around you. Saying nothing, just rubbing his hands up and down your back, attempting to make you focus on his touch rather than the panic attack that washed through you.

Actions had always spoken louder than words between the two of you, and in this moment it had spoken volumes, as you shook and sobbed against him.

This was really emotional for me to write and I’m sorry it lacked of any fluff. I needed some angst tonight. It isn’t too descriptive either, as I have exams next week and a project due in the morning but hopefully this suffices. Perhaps I could write a part 2 to this? Also I didn’t mean to make Sirius act like such a prick, I just needed some angsty plot.

#professor lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders x reader #harry potter imagines

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darriness · 3 years

Text

Klaine Fic: Premonition

Author: darriness

Word Count: 1179

Summary: A vampire meets a boy.

Author's Note: Hello! So last year I wrote a fic entitled Care where Kurt was a vampire and Blaine was a werewolf. This year I decided to go back and fill in some of the blanks in that story (and it's October so I thought it was fitting!). I don't know how many parts this one will have (I'm part way through writing part 2) but I have been stalled in my writing for the last few months and this has been the first piece since July that I've felt like posting. I hope you enjoy it! You don't have to have read Care in order to read this but you may want to after it's done! :)

AO3 Link

Kurt quickly drops the pencil in his hand and smoothes his features into a neutral expression. He stares forward, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel on him, but eventually (probably quicker than he would have two months ago - his reactions have been on a hair trigger since that night) he can handle it no longer and glares across the room.

The eyes that had been on him widen slightly before they turn back to the front of the room.

Good. Kurt thinks with a nod. The less attention he draws toward himself the better and if people are afraid of him? That can only help.

Kurt’s attention swings back to the front of the room. He tries to focus back on the teacher currently lecturing about the Civil War, but...he can feel that nagging sensation creeping back in. The temporary distraction of the curious onlooker had been just that - temporary.

Kurt almost growls as he tries to use his tongue to ease the sensations in his mouth. It’s almost a...tickle. It feels like an itch he just can’t scratch. The pencil had been doing an okay job, but clearly it drew too much unwanted attention.

God, he’s had these things for two months, why are they just NOW starting to itch?

Kurt wouldn’t say the adjustment to being a vampire had been, or is, an easy one. Since getting bitten two months ago, just after his eighteenth birthday (GREAT birthday present, Uniserve), he’s had to deal with heightened senses, a thirst for blood, a desire to murder every living creature, a decrease in the need for most human bodily functions, and now...itchy gums.

Out of all the things he’s had to get used to in his new life (or rather un-life?), this one is pretty far down on the ‘fuck shit crap’ scale, but it’s also super annoying. His urge to murder things is rising the more his gums itch.

Mercifully, the bell rings to end the period. If becoming a vampire weren’t bad enough, he still has to contend with finishing his senior year of high school. Only he would end up with the only father in history to have a son turn into a vampire and still insist he complete his education…

Kurt tries to leave the classroom as slowly as possible, but the less time he spends in a group of people the better for everyone involved. He’s got his lunch period now and he figures he’ll spend it under some secluded trees in the courtyard - soak up some of that early May sun.

He had been quite pleased to discover that, unlike all the stories he’s ever heard, the sun does absolutely nothing to him. He figures he won’t tan much, but he never did before. He was also supremely glad to discover his skin doesn’t glitter in the sun (he hadn’t REALLY thought that would happen, but it had been in the back of his mind).

He’s almost to his favourite tree when his ears pick up movement behind him. He instantly tenses. He never encounters anyone at lunch. He’s new to the school, transferring to this county following his month-long ‘hospital stay’ (re: discovering and dealing with the fact that he was now a vampire) after he was attacked. He and his father thought it would be best to leave his old life behind and while Kurt had thought he’d feel some sort of sadness leaving his old friends behind, he found his new nature left very little room for such feelings.

He’s on alert as he hears the footsteps getting closer and even though he’s never once felt like prey since becoming a vampire, he senses the person coming toward him doesn’t feel very much like prey either. The person making their way toward him has no idea they are coming upon a predator…

“Hey!” A voice calls and Kurt whirls to face the sound.

Coming toward him with bounding, exuberant steps is the boy who was staring at him in class. Kurt hadn’t really been paying close attention to him in class (and can’t recall seeing him before today), but he notices the gelled brown hair, polo shirt, bow tie, and chinos now and when the boy settles in front of him with an easy smile, Kurt notices a pair of disarmingly attractive hazel eyes.

Kurt is immediately on his guard. It’s a strange sensation - one he hasn’t had to deal with in two months - but this feeling isn’t tied to fear or the need for protection so much. He’s instantly attracted to this boy, in a very real and visceral way. This has never happened to him before.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re new, right?” The boy asks.

Kurt blinks at him like he’s just spoken a different language. His blood, which pumps sluggishly normally (as long as he keeps a healthy diet of blood, his body functions more or less like a human’s) is now racing through his veins and the itchy feeling in his gums intensifies.

He still doesn’t know what to do.

The boy’s easy smile falters, slightly, at Kurt’s lack of response and Kurt’s body aches that he’s caused this boy any form of discomfort.

He shakes his head to clear it before coughing, “Um, yeah. Yes, I am new.” He says, marvelling at the breathy quality of his voice.

The boy’s easy smile returns, “I’m Blaine!” He says, sticking his hand out.

Kurt thinks touching the boy, Blaine, in Kurt’s current state probably isn’t smart, but he’s already been rude enough and, unlike 99% of his life right now, he doesn’t WANT to be rude to Blaine.

He slides his hand into Blaine’s and tries to control the sharp intake of breath the move triggers. He doesn’t even BREATHE anymore (unless he wants to talk), so the fact that his body would have this reaction is insane.

“Kurt.” He remembers to say before it’s too late and things get awkward again.

Blaine drops his hand and nods with the same happy smile. Kurt tilts his head a little, curiously. Blaine kind of reminds Kurt of a puppy…

“I notice you tend to eat lunch by the trees by yourself.” Blaine says before putting his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture, “Not that that is a bad thing!” He defends quickly and Kurt almost giggles, “But I was wondering if I could...join you today?” He says it with a little shrug and Kurt is immediately charmed.

His answer should probably be ‘no’ and if anyone else had asked (no one else would have asked) he would have said ‘no’, but he finds himself unable to do so with Blaine.

He nods and feels his cheeks blush slightly (he wasn’t even aware they still could) when Blaine’s eyes light up, “Sure.” He says, tilting his head toward the trees and turning to make his way over. He hears Blaine follow and he takes a deep breath he doesn’t need, preparing himself for whatever this is.

#klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klainetober #(is that still a thing?)#my loves #my stuff #memory eight #fic: premonition #part 1

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kozzax · 3 years

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so recently the folks over at @petrichormeraki have been working on a silent tommy au because of a few asks talking about mute!tommy. and one of the things that’s canon in that au is the fact that xisuma is the only mortal hermit. i took this as free reign to work out why each of the other hermits is immortal. some of them are gods, some of them are demigods, some of them are supernatural beings, but none of them (except xisuma) can be killed through feasible means.

because of the sheer amount of immortal hermits there just to live out immortality in peace, i like to think hermitcraft is sometimes referred to jokingly as ‘the retirement zone’ by other immortal beings. most mortals outside of hermitcraft wouldn’t know the hermits are all like... gods and shit.

hermits + their immortality under the cut because oh god this was supposed to be a fast post but i accidentally wrote... a lot. whoops!

Grian is a watcher. He was a watcher before he joined hermitcraft. That’s... just. Canon Grian Lore TM. Not much to explain with him.

Cleo and Joe are both immortal by virtue of no longer being capable of being mortal. As both of hem are undead beings (cleo a zombie and joe a ghost), killing them again isn’t... possible. In addition to this, at some point during their afterlife, they managed to gather enough power between the two of them to be labelled as the “Twin Gods of Life and Death”. Which one is life and which one is death? That depends on the day.

Cub and Scar are definitely not gods. But the deals the two made with the Vex are almost more of an insurance on their immortality. The Vex protect their ConVex as a dragon protects its hoard. Not only can the two of them hold their own in a fight, but their respawn is insured by the fact that even if they were to permadie, the Vex would bring them back anyways.

False is the Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts. She’s also a vampire. In a similar vein, Ren is a werewolf. Both of them can only be killed through very specific means, and neither can die of old age. Throughout their many years in the worlds, they’ve gathered tons of skills and allies. Although now they’ve both stepped down, content to enjoy their peaceful lives and chill out in Hermitcraft, each of them was once a ruler of their respective factions. The ‘queen’ part of False’s title was never just a title.

Etho was granted immortality by a council of gods, after they took a liking to his interesting antics and kept an eye on his longstanding worlds.

Doc, BDubs, Beef, and Etho (again) were all brought to Hermitcraft as the last ‘mortal’ members to join. The general idea was that maybe they could give Xisuma some company and relief from the antics of his immortal and godly friends. This did not happen. Instead, the universe decided it was going to give all of them godly powers in their own right. Etho himself may have been immortal, but he and the rest of the NHO all grew infinitely more powerful after leaving the jungle of season 5.

Stress is a dryad. She can control and warp the nature around her in strange and beautiful ways. In addition to this, were her body to ever get fully destroyed in a way that would prevent her from respawning, a new body would instead form for her out of the nature wherever she died. This is how ice queen stress came about in season 6.

Impulse actually bullshitted his own way into immortality. Where most of the other hermits were either brought into it by someone else or born into it, Impulse actually discovered the secret of immortality while he was trying to figure out how totems of undying were made. He now knows how to create totems and how to become immortal, though he won’t tell anyone else if they ask. Part of the process of creating totems involved...

...Tango, who is a demon. As a demon, his powerset includes but is not limited to both pyrokinesis and an affinity for very very large and very very deadly animals. He doesn’t use those abilities on Hermitcraft often, but they’re in his skillset for sure.

As a byproduct of the immortality, Zedaph showed up in the current timeline. His immortality is... strange, because it’s not technically immortality. Zedaph, as a person, is mortal and can die. Zedaph, as a being, though, is one of billions of Zedaphs in the universe; each of whom is nearly identical to the others; and whenever one Zedaph dies, he is replaced instantly with a new Zedaph; a functionally identical Zedaph to the one who died. Nobody’s quite sure how this process works, but Zed claims it’s through “time travel”.

Jevin, as a slime, can actually inhabit any portion of his slime that he wants; no matter how small the amount. Even if he were limited to one singular molecule of slime, he could still exist around that molecule and regenerate slime until he was fully present again, though it might take a little while for him to complete that process. The only way to kill Jevin is by fundamentally altering the chemical makeup of every single molecule of slime he’s ever had anywhere. It simply won’t happen. He does use his abilities to get out of conversations, if he’s feeling particularly annoyed at the time.

TFC is potentially one of the most interesting hermits, in his prior responsibilities. It’s easy to forget that he’s not mortal, considering how frighteningly average he acts in his day to day life. One peek into any of his bunkers, though, and you’re hit right in the face with a bold reminder. TFC used to be one of the gods responsible for shaping the very worlds players would walk on; more specifically, he was in charge of cave systems and mineshafts for a long time. He’s retired from that life and is having a lovely time in Hermitcraft, just vibing.

Wels gained his immortality through a deal with the patron god of the kingdom he grew up serving. He made this deal as a young knight and watched for decades as the kingdom grew and prospered, Wels himself known far and wide as quite probably the best warrior of them all. After being dismissed honorably by the kingdom, as he’d been protecting them for many decades now and the rulers honestly felt he deserved a break, the god he’d made a deal with finalized this immortality. He joined Hermitcraft not long after, and has taken up a spot doing his part to protect the hermits.

Iskall was somewhat of an enforcer, for the gods. Were a god to be acting particularly out of line, Iskall would be called in to bring them to the council for trial. Sometimes his targets came peacefully, sometimes he’d have to use force to bring them in. No matter what he had to do, there wasn’t a single target he missed. He both can and will kill a god if he must. Technically, Iskall’s still on call, but generally councils don’t call on him unless absolutely necessary anymore.

Hypno made a deal with a god many years ago, trading his mortality for the ability to see hundreds of thousands of alternate paths for the future. He wanted to chronicle them, and he still spends one or two days a week writing out winding paths of the future. When he’s not working, he wears his bandana to cover up the third eye that allows him this insight. This helps him focus on the now, rather than the futures that may or may not be.

Xb is an eldritch being with reality warping abilities. He has them under fairly good control, most of the time. They really only become an issue when he gets too much pent-up magical energy at once; examples of this being things like season changes. His season 7 base is built around what happens when he needs to release. It’s a post apocalypse world, and the apocalypse was him.

Mumbo is definitely both magical and immortal, but the specifics of his powers are incredibly unclear. The hermits know it has something to do with redstone, maybe, and that the unpredictability of Hermit Challenges are a reflection of his strange and confusing powerset, but nobody’s really sure where his immortality stems from. Every time you ask him he gives you a different answer. The mumbonis are all different joking theories as to where his powers came from.

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

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Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you I feel like my brain has short-circuited and I forgot someone):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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lilyclawthorne · 3 years

Text

Escaping Expulsion Thoughts (once again very stream of conscious-like while i rewatched the episode so there’s a bunch of stuff here)

i fucking knew odalia was gonna be an oracle, i knew and i hate that for her family. i’m not sure if this necklace thing is specifically a form of oracle magic or not but im assuming it is, and either way the second i saw it happen that made my stomach twist. the fact that she just keeps this direct line to her daughter at all times feels so disturbing

so, i get that the joke with glyph lessons here is that eda and lilith are probably acting the exact same way they did when they were younger, but it does also feel a little odd for me. in my post for episode 1 i talked about how it felt like lilith probably missed the structure of the coven, and maybe even having an authority figure, and it does concern me a bit that it could be projected on to luz here.

also, i saw someone mention that they thought lilith could be regressing a bit, which is interesting seeing as she’s been in the coven since basically being a child and now that she’s out, she could be going backwards because that was probably the last time she had a personality of her own instead of one that was carefully crafted to be socially acceptable for others. and to be fair, the few moments in season 1 when we see glimpses into the true lilith, she is pretty childish.

anyways lilith has such pretty handwriting i love it

gus!! witch puberty!! do not worry buddy eda will get your name eventually. probably.

amity went out and murdered those fairies for luz didn’t she

i need to know why the heck bump has no choice in the matter of the expulsion. typically a pta (or pca in this case) wouldn’t have power that much stronger than the principa?? so i wonder if the blights have something over bump, or if its even just something such as donation money they’d withdraw

odalia blight you gaslighting bitch “I’m appalled you’re not in class right now what are you thinking” YOU MADE HER COME HERE

PLEASE i know gus and willow are sad here but the whole “live off the land” thing and “water you one last time, with my tears” are so fucking funny ok

GO LUZ, YOU TELL OFF ODALIA

i feel like alador doesn’t really care what’s going on and just wants to be back home making his abomination inventions, also he seems to have an affinity for different creatures as well which is an interesting detail

i love that willow stated they would get back in on their own right in front of alador and odalia. these people fucked up her friendship and caused her a lot of trouble that she shouldn’t have had to deal with so i love that she’s unafraid to speak like that in front of them

between the first & second episode, and some of the seasons trailer, it seems like Lilith may have an affinity for ice magic? which is interesting seeing as eda was always a fan of her “spicy toss” aka some fire magic. interesting to see the two of them as fire & ice basically

i LOVE how much bump loves luz, willow, and gus. it’s kinda really sweet, but again it feels so concerning that he had no choice in the matter. makes me think he’s more likely to eventually rebel against the standards that have been in place for so long at some point. (also abominations coven for bump!! interesting!! i appreciate seeing the coven marks included on the adults so far)

what is it with these kids and being dragged off by their hoods in this episode

love that the blights address includes “right arm”, also i took a quick look up of the word “bruegal” which is boulevard they live on, and it’s probably just a coincidence but the first google result was actually for a european think tank that specializes in economics

yknow i actually have wondered about layering glyphs on top of each other and making a super glyph the way eda did, so good to know that would NOT work out

luz you’re really gonna give the blights their own flowers??????

it goes by so fast but please take a moment to take in and appreciate the design of that blight entry room/living room-esque area and it’s combination of abomination and oracle decor. also the blight family portrait.

i could talk about alador and odalia and their relationship dynamic here, when luz is meeting with them, but i think it’s best to save for the end, but i will say i don’t think it’s just odalia controlling everything (though she does control a lot) and alador just suffering and being silent.

the more i stare at odalia’s hair the more i feel like she has an odd receding hairline

love that the abomination kept the cat shape luz gave it and that amity knew immediately from that

WILLOW’S DADS!!! I LOVE THEM! I love how much they want their daughter to have a great education even if they have to be the ones to do it! (even if it could come across as a little intense) Although, the fact that they’re prepared to teach plant magic to her makes me question why they put her in abominations once again. (wish we could’ve gotten a glimpse of their coven marks!)

odalia is definitely the one who handles more of the parenting and alador is more distant. at least that’s what i get based on the twins specifying to amity not to tell their mom specifically

absolutely insane that odalia is just letting the abomiton destroy the whole place to kill a child

“stay away from my luz!” oh my god,ohmy GOD

i like how lilith can’t tell if these are normal noises or distress ones. really sums up life in the owl house. also lilith? kicking doors in?? this combined with “I AM A WITCH, UNHINGED” tells me she’ll be as chaotic as the rest of the owl house in no time and i am here for it.

the music when amity jumps in to protect luz is absolutely killing it here i need a soundtrack now

YES AMITY DESTROY THE NECKLACE (and oh god please don’t let odalia give you something even harder to remove or destroy)

Luz is blushing!! The feelings are starting to be returned!!!

“Luz, Willow, and Gus are my friends!” love it. love the open declaration. love that she’s telling her mother off. love that i have something to check off my bingo board already.

okay, i know a lot of people have already suggested that alador is smiling here because he can tell luz and amity like each other, but i’m pretty sure it’s only because he’s noticing how much amity’s magic has grown and improved

small detail but i love the smoke from the units order sign filling the background while odalia is fuming herself

oh? alador has had the ability to tell odalia off and successfully calm her down this whole time? and chose not to use it till now? yeah he sucks too. he very clearly has a plan for amity as much as odalia does as well, but he’s much better at seeing the long-term goal

“the glyph combo, copyright me, lilith” im screaming, lilith you DORK

ok i really wish eda or lilith asked where luz had been. i’d kill for these sisters to go off about how much they hated the alador and odalia in school, as well as threaten to hurt them for hurting luz.

the statue lilith made and her reaction to the gold star she received re-emphasizes my concern about her need for approval and for an authority figure. (ok but her noise at the gold star WAS very cute tho)

alright lets get down to business on the blight parents. so far i definitely do not view their relationship as being one-sided with odalia in control. honestly, i think they do have a sense of mutual respect for the other. to me it seems like all alador really wants to do is focus on his work and nothing else, and odalia seems not only more than happy to let him do so, but willing to take care of everything else the company needs, and he seems fine with that and going along with whatever because he only has to do his part. and clearly his abomination tech combined with her showmanship/advertising (and honestly probably some oracle magic) has clearly made them successful.

so what im saying is that i think their power in their relationship is actually pretty balanced, if it looks otherwise that’s just because that’s how they best function together, with odalia being more forward and alador being more distant, and therefore they’re very much both to blame for shitty parenting.

also I know some people have joked about the blight family name coming from odalia (which is also a dumb joke like why is it funny if the family name comes from the woman and not the man) but anyways I definitely do think blight is aladors family name and odalia married in simply because he takes the whole blights keep up their end of the deal thing much more seriously than odalia. probably something that’s been taught to him since he was a kid yknow, whereas she was super ready to ignore it when it inconvenienced her.

as for the very final scene with them and the golden guard, i had an interpretation of it that i saw, but it seems that everyone else ive see react to it so far saw something different than me so maybe i’m just plain wrong. but like, i have this feeling that maybe the blight parents, while they do want power, might not be as aligned with the emperor and his coven as we may think?? not saying they’re good people, just that there could be more going on here. but idk, i’ve seen no one else interpret it that way yet so i won’t go off about it unless either someone wants to know more of what i thought or if i ever actually make myself get around to making a separate post about it.

#the owl house #owl house #toh #escaping expulsion

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