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#like ‘four is a system’ and ‘four is his own person and the colours are just voices in his ear’ and ‘four is his own individual person’
undertheopensky · 3 months
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Since you are also a fan of LU Four, I need to ask if you have a favorite headcanon.
ASDFGH HOW CAN YOU ASK ME TO PICK JUST ONE I HAVE SO MANY FOUR HEADCANONS AND I LOVE THEM ALL
SELECTED RANDOMLY:
Though Four enjoys all aspects of smithing, each of the Colours has an area that they most enjoy and do best at!
Blue - fiddly and repetitive tasks like making arrowheads and links of mail and reattaching broken pieces
Vio - complex fine detail tasks like making buckles or decorative details for commission pieces; he’s also the one who does jewellery but he complains about it
Red - the early steps in heavy shaping for armour and weaponry, hammering things into shape
Green - the finishing steps like sharpening, polishing, attaching hilts and checking balances
THANK YOU FOR ASKING - !
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myfictionaldreams · 1 year
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hello! i was wondering if it was possible to write a poly!marauders story about y/n using their safe word during overstimulation and the boys stopping to help them through aftercare.
i love seeing the proper use of consent in your stories and would just like to see one ab the care given when you sometimes need to stop mid way.
love your stuff!
A/N: I loved this request, thank you for sending it. I hope you (and everyone reading) are having a lovely weekend!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, rough sex, intense, overstimulation, use of safe word, bdsm, dom/sub, size difference, panic attack, overwhelmed, crying, hurt/comfort, praise kink, aftercare, cuddling
Words: 2.4k
my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link
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Overwhelmed. That was one word you’d use for the current situation.
Your body was coated in all manners of different bodily fluids including sweat, spit, your juices and two other clumps of cum, one that was dribbling out of your mouth and the other was being used as lube by the third person involved.
Remus’s towering form was hunched over you, his cock pumping into your highly sensitive, sore cunt. It had been hours of intense fucking from all three of the marauders, so much so that a faint buzz had settled in your ears, muffling the voice of your boyfriend as he tried to coax another orgasm. “I know you can do one more for me love, just one more”.
“No”, was your exhausted response, eyelids drooping.
The word ‘no’ may have been muttered by you but it wasn’t necessarily a stop word, not in the current dynamic of the relationship. The four of you had a very specific dominant and submissive relationship and abided by the colour-coded safe word system, or if one of the three boys deems you’d been going for too long, everything would stop. This was meant for certain scenes to play out, you could say certain words to play along but if red or yellow was even mentioned, all trust was in the men looking after you to stop.
Even in your delirious, fucked-out mind now, you were still aware of these rules and even though it was a relentless session, you were holding out on the hope that Remus would be cuming soon, needing him to find his fulfilment.
However, the minutes ticked by and his thrusting continued with no end in sight. It hadn’t only been a long day, it had been an intense weekend. One day led into another and upon waking the euphoric, happy buzz that filled your veins with adrenaline had you instantly jumping onto one of the Marauders.
Now it was taking its toll, the pleasure seeping away and replaced with stinging, aching and discomfort. The thought of even another orgasm that would cause your pussy to flutter and spasm had a sense of dread, something you never thought would even cross your mind. However, glancing up at Remus, seeing the lust in his eyes, lips still moving in praises meant to make you feel safe and you did for the most part.
The thought of him cuming, finding his thrill and coating your insides to mix with the other Marauders cum was what kept you going and even though the safewords did momentarily cross your mind, the worry of them being upset that you were in pain and the embarrassment was enough for you to hold your tongue.
Remus slowed down his thrust, his scarred hand gripping your jaw sturdily, thumb moving to swipe across your lips, capturing the dribble of cum and pushing it into your lips. Happily, you sucked on his thumb, hoping the sight would excite him and it did for you too, the salty goodness a quick distraction.
“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me, just want one more orgasm Pup”, his lips found yours as he finished his sweet praises. Remus knew the exact phrases to say, he was so tentative and wanted the best for your pleasure and this only added to your own reasoning as to why you wanted him to find his end rather than your own.
James and Sirius were the same, particularly today. This may be why you were extra sensitive, the two quidditch players had sucked, licked and fucked their way to so many orgasms you’d lost count before Remus had even touched you.
Remus lifted his upper body up, leaning on his knees between your legs, still thrusting slowly and you could feel the drag of his cock against your swollen walls. With a hand on each thigh, Remus hiked your legs up higher on his hips, the grip tight, making sure the two of you were moulded together but from this angle, it meant his cock could press that little bit deeper.
This only lasted for a couple of thrusts before the tall Gryffindor was relaxing his hold on one of your legs to idly rub circles against your overused, swollen clit. The feelings almost took your breath away, imaginary sirens blaring in your mind, immediately shouting “no”, eyes clenched closed and then the word was automatically stumbling from your trembling lips, “red”.
The sensations went from overwhelming discomfort to instant relief as Remus within a second was off of your person, hands untouching and cock swiftly pulling out, leaving you throbbing but empty. 
James and Sirius were by your side in an instant as well, all three hovering over you and it was like a tidal wave of one area being overwhelmed from physical to mental. Guilt was the first one, the look of worry etched on each of their faces, you didn’t want them to feel like that, it was supposed to be a nice time, instantly regretted using the safe word.
“Love, look at us, are you ok? Did I hurt you, was it too much”? Remus’ voice was laced with regret and panic as he tried to soothe the skin of your cheek with his thumb.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, your panic was engulfing, your body trembling with anxiety but this only caused the panic to increase as it felt like the world was collapsing in, the air seeming thick so you couldn’t breathe properly.
“She’s hyperventilating”, Sirius was the first to move, shifting his arm underneath your back, lifting up your body so he could easily slide behind, using himself to prop you upright. His lips hovered next to your ear, forcing you to listen to him, as the rest of him enveloped around you so his body heat could try and ground your panic attack.
James cupped your hands, holding them firmly whilst also stroking the back with his thumb in circles as Remus remained in front, cupping your face still.
Even though this situation had not happened during sex before, there had been occasions where you’d experienced panic attacks this severely and after much communication, they’d found that you liked to feel tight and contained, whether it was in a blanket that you were wrapped in or all of their bodies. The four of your bodies were still naked which also helped, to feel warm and safe in their embrace.
You were still struggling to stabilise your breathing into a normal pattern, heart pounding, feeling like impending doom, eyes tightly clenched closed but tears were still streaking down your cheeks. Remus was quick to catch these with his thumbs.
“Love, listen to my voice, I need you to look at me”, his voice was low and calm as he spoke, trying not to let his own panic about the situation dictate how he looked after you.
“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- to say it-” you choked between quick breaths, beginning to feel dizzy, head attempting to lul back but unable to with the grip on it.
James lifted your hands up to his mouth, kissing your delicate fingers, shushing your words, and feeling his voice vibrate against your skin. Sirius was just the same from behind you, working with the two other marauders to use soft commands to get your breathing to calm.
“Stop talking sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes and look at me”, Remus continued, using a slight hint more authority in his tone, hoping to snap it through your anxiety. It worked as reluctantly your eyes snapped open, expecting to see him angry from stopping but all that was looking back at you were the warm eyes of Remus.
It was hard to try and rationalise any thought when your emotions were so heightened, knowing that it would have been absolutely fine otherwise but this had escalated so much in your mind that only the worst thoughts were circulating.
“Well done”, he made sure to add emphasis to the praise, to hope that you knew he truly meant it. “Now I need you to slow your breathing, keeping your eyes on me”.
The eye contact was helping but it did take a few attempts to stop trying to desperately take a deep breath. It was only when James moved your hands onto his chest that you could ground down to something, feeling his own breaths, how long he would breathe in for compared to breathing out. As you finally found any sort of rhythm with your breathing, were you able to concentrate on the others as well.
For example, Sirius’ soft commands of “in and out” as he moved his chest that was still holding you up, physically moving your body with him which helped immensely.
It took a while of stuttering and being forced to not talk but to only concentrate on your breathing, all the whilst holding eye contact with Remus. Eventually, you were calm, the sensation of doom or passing out having passed, only instead replaced with shame and embarrassment.
“That’s it, keep going, nice and slow”, Remus interrupted you as your mouth opened to speak but this was something you wanted them all to hear.
“I’m sorry”, your voice was croaky and barely above a whisper. The tears were still flowing and you were sure to look like a mess but from the sad smile Remus was giving you, he didn’t give anything away. Sirius’s gentle kiss against your neck made your heart beat a little quicker with how soft he was being, the subtle tickle of his long hair against your shoulders caused a slight shiver to pass through you.
“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for”.
“But you didn’t cum”, again shame was writhe throughout your body, cheeks heating as Remus continued to make sure you looked into his eyes.
“Love, I would never cum again if it meant that you were comfortable during these moments. Don’t ever apologise for using safe words, they’re there for all of our safety, we need to listen to each other.” His words were almost like a warm blanket, muscles relaxing slightly into all of their grips. Of course, you knew he meant those words and that was what had been discussed before and agreed to, just your anxiety and panic for some reason changed your outlook on it.
Finally, the tears slowly stopped dropping and Remus’ grip of your face relaxed, the warmth disappearing was a loss but automatically you were able to relax back into Sirius’ shoulder, turning into his neck as he held you.
“Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” the words sounded just as ashamed as yours previously did.
“No, no it’s ok, it’s just sore and the thought of having another orgasm just set me off I think, I’m sor-”.
It was James to cut you off, lifting his rough hand to cover your mouth entirely, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m banning the word sorry from your pretty lips”. Beneath his hand, you couldn't hold back the small smile, which he felt and was speedy to remove his hand so he could see the small spark of joy in your expression. “Ah, more of that please”.
The four of you sat in momentary happiness but the discussion needed to be had so Remus gently tipped your chin in his direction with a single finger. “Talk to me, so we know what we need to be doing better next time”.
“I’m just sore and overstimulated I think and I think I forced myself to go on for too long because I wanted you to cum but it was a little overwhelming”.
“I’m sorry, Love”, it was Remus now to look distraught at causing the discomfort but you were quick to brush that away.
“No please don’t be sorry, you didn’t know I was feeling like that”.
“I think it’s something we can all learn from”, James continued speaking on everyone’s behalf, taking a moment to pause and kiss your temple before continuing. “We’ll be more careful next time and maybe check in more frequently if you’re reaching your limit rather than just using the safe words. However, it is a group effort darling, we have safe words to limit the use of red so please if you’re ever feeling remotely uncomfortable, say yellow or red. Even if it's as simple as changing positions or having a drink of water, we will discuss it to stop it from getting to the point of using the red word and you being overwhelmed. And please never feel like you have to suffer just for our benefit, we can take care of ourselves if you don't want to continue, how does that sound?”
A lump formed in your throat as you stared into the big hazel eyes of James. How could you ever be worried that they’d be upset at you, they always made it known your priority was first.
“Yes, that sounds good”, you made sure to respond verbally, smiling as you finished the sentence.
Sirius’ kiss against your cheek had you turning towards him slightly as he asked, “how does it feel now? Are you still in pain?”
“It’s just all throbbing a bit”, referring to in between your legs.
“Can we check?” Nodding your head in response, Sirius helped to lay you back into the middle of the bed, kissing your cheek one last time before easing out from behind you. Remus and Sirius checked all over your body for any signs of injuries, the most obvious being the swollen and physically throbbing cunt.
James lay beside you, talking you through everything, keeping you smiling and occupied as Sirius found some cooling gel that had been previously used to help soothe when you were overused. Then as Sirius used his wand to delicately clean up the liquids coating your body, Remus sat on the edge of the bed, making sure that you drank a full glass of water, praising you when you handed back an empty glass.
He then too joined the bed, lying on the opposite side to James and handing everyone a chunk of chocolate from his secret stash, the sugar perfectly needed. Snuggled between James and Remus, you could hear Sirius shuffling around somewhere before he casually asked, “Have you guys heard of the muggle singer David Bowie?”
“Here we go”, James muttered to himself, sitting up to see what Sirius was doing. What proceeded was a lengthy performance filled with props, very off-key singing and theatrics from Sirius who was still very naked but that added to the performance. You laughed so hard that tears were forming in the corner of your eyes.
Even though it had been a stressful night, glancing at each Sirius, Remus and James, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. They made you feel safe, warm and happy.
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g-xix · 3 months
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☁️Return from Sri Lanka | ArthurTV
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The sound of keys slotting into the door - the metal on metal you'd usually clench your teeth in anger upon hearing - alternately kindled explosions within your stomach, like little kernels popping into bubbles of elation and excitement as the keys turned in the apartment door.
Instantly you were up on your feet, throwing the duvet one way and skidding around the corridor in fluffy socks that would've almost definitely had you slipping over the hard floors, if not for the ecstatic sprint that carried you to the door.
The moment the door was pushed open - just far enough for you to catch a glimpse of a person behind it - you'd already jumped to close the gap.
Knocking the air out of him, you launched past the threshold and wrapped your arms around his middle, knocking the air out of him as you buried your head against his chest. With a huff of exertion upon having the wind knocked from his body, Arthur felt his waist being completely squished by your grip as you bundled him in a nearly bone-crushing hug - yet still the surge of oxytocin urged him to wrap his own arms around your shoulders, reciprocating your love as he felt the same smile blooming across his lips. All too happy to find himself within your arms all over again.
"I missed you, baby..."
You knew that it'd be straining when Arthur told you that Chip had asked him to go to Sri Lanka for a week for a video. And yet you hadn't considered quite HOW straining it'd be until day four hit, and you were spooning ice cream into your mouth at three am and watching Arthur's old videos on a phone screen under a blanket, sniffling and waiting to see a typing... notification to pop up with Arthur's name the subject.
Yet the feeling of Arthur's white cotton tee-shirt against your cheek, radiating his own body warmth through the thin material made everything feel complete again. The feeling of his arms pressing you into his body, curled so domestically perfectly and holding you so tightly that you could feel each defined muscle of his pecs to his lower abs through the shirt against your own body took your mind away from those lonely nights and filled you with such a sense of solace and wholeness that Arthur was with you again. 
"I can tell"
You laughed into his shirt, letting your forehead rest against his body as you took a deep breath to calm your whirring mind - the sole thought of Arthur and nothing else ricocheting around your brain - though Arthur's unforgettable scent simply filled your lungs with the deep inhale, only further fuelling your Arthur-centric thoughts. 
"I missed you too, gorgeous..."
That scent of pine and familiar cedar flooded your senses and filled your lungs, filling your circulatory system with nothing but nostalgia and fullness at that accustomed aroma you'd missed so much whilst he'd been gone.
You could feel every individual molecule of your body tingling like a firework, ready to explode into millions of colourful glittering specks as you pulled away from the hug - hands still attached to either elbow so that you could look up and admire your boyfriend live in the flesh, for the first time in what'd been a long week for the both of you.
"Fucking beautiful."
He was the one who said it, but you were the one who felt it as you took your sweet time looking over Arthur's face, savouring every sweet minute detail as though you were memorising a picture you never wanted to forget. 
Jet-lagged, scruff grown out into a fuller stubble, hair messy and sticking up in all directions - he was still the most gorgeous man you could ever imagine to lay eyes upon. His skin had a golden glow to it from the time he'd spent abroad - his pupils blown out and still demurely doe shaped, lips still their perfectly irresistible pink, illuminated with the warm white lamp which only highlighted the subtle curve of his triceps peaking out from beneath the white 'manwhore'  shirt, as you'd dubbed it. 
"I don't think I've ever been happier to see somebody in my life."
"Would you believe me if I said that's exactly what I was just thinking?"
You never realised what the phrase music to my ears meant until that moment, Arthur's voice calming every jumpy nerve within your body with his mellifluously husky voice. His voice sounded like honey being grated. So smooth, as though it belonged in a symphony - and yet gravelly and rough like a sandpapered morning voice. That harmonious juxtaposition that completed itself to make the sweetest sounds that could lull you to sleep whilst also simultaneously get you on your knees in seconds.
Not that giving head was concurrent in your mind as you basked in Arthur's presence lovingly for the first time in what you realised was undeniably too long.
"You don't understand just how happy I am to be home with you," Arthur sighed contentedly, letting his arms slacken and his backpack drop to the floor, warm smile on his face as he stepped through the door and locked it behind him, too.
You couldn't have been happier to have him back.
Seeing his gorgeous face, smelling his delectable aftershave, hearing that grated-honey voice - you'd mentally ticked off how each sense was stimulated by Arthur - and yet just one final one was needed noting, and lucky for you, Arthur had already beaten you to it.
You squealed as Arthur's hands found your hips, easily sweeping you off the ground and pulling you close to him instead - your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as he lifted you up. 
His lips crashed into yours, a fucking frenzy of fireworks and passion igniting a wildfire within your core, his soft and cocoa butter flavoured lips moving so desperately against yours that you felt no shame in the way you bit his lower lip back - chasing his taste, his touch, his everything as your lips moved synchronously against one another.
Your hands running through his fluffy brunette locks, only spiking and messying them up more, his hands supporting your weight by sitting shamelessly on your ass - there was undeniable yearning between the two of you as neither backed down or separated even as you struggled for oxygen.
Only when Arthur's lashes tickled your cheek, you couldn't stop yourself from breaking the kiss to let out a laugh, almost unbelieving that Arthur was back already.
"God, I missed you."
"Let me make it up to you then..."
"Harry Potter marathon until we fall asleep, together?"
"My gosh, I missed you too."
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belle-keys · 10 months
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Summary: Virtual Author Talk with Cassandra Clare at San Anselmo Public Library (23/08/23)
Cassie wrote her first “novel” when she was 12 on a Mac computer, the infamous The Beautiful Cassandra that she regularly teases to us. She got into writing fiction professionally full-time after leaving her journalism job in 2006.
Finishing City of Bones took about 3-4 years because it was her first novel. Holly Black was the one who hooked her up with her first agent who then got the book published, which was a really new experience. She said that the publishing process was initially surprising to her because of how crazily long it takes to get a single book published.
Cassie acknowledges that City of Bones is starkly “different” from the rest of all her books in colour and voice, because of how experimental the novel writing process was for her. She said she thinks she’s evolved a lot as a writer since then.
She aims for psychological realism in her books even though it’s fantasy. She tries to see each character as a fully-formed person who can exist outside of the immediate plot. She creates worksheets to write her characters.
She also believes it’s necessary to let your main characters make bad mistakes – she cites Matthew as a prominent example i.e. someone highly reactive to their own mistakes. Matthew is defined by his regret and his need to fix his mistakes. She thinks Matthew is one of the most relatable characters because of this.
She’s very drawn to the found family trope because of how much she moved around as a kid – the stability and love of a found family is something she’s worked to build her whole life. She emphasizes the importance of friendship and its different forms in life.
Cassie cites Magnus as the character who turned out most differently than she had initially planned – she hadn’t originally anticipated how significant Magnus would be in the wider scheme of the series.
Doing The Last Hours was, at least a little, in response to people’s excitement about The Family Tree back in 2013.
Her advice for writing fantasy worlds is to create a flexible and expansive magic system so it can grow with you as a writer. She also emphasizes letting your favorite characters make poor decisions – your characters determine the plot and not the other way around.
Cassie strikes a balance between planning worldbuilding details beforehand and then spontaneously adding in new things in the writing process. The Scholomance is an example of something new that was added later in the TSC writing chronology.
She decided that Sword Catcher had to be in the adult publishing category because when she initially developed the characters, they just appeared as people in their twenties. With TSC, the characters had just appeared to her as teenagers then. Writing characters in these different life stages was interesting and challenging.
Sword Catcher is the first in a duology, but she’d like it to be four books if it’s successful.
Cassie has always wanted to write Shadowhunters in the Roaring ‘20s but she has no idea what the plot would possibly be.
She doesn’t read TSC fanfiction, but her husband has informed her of a popular Magnus X BTS fanfiction on AO3. She stays away from fanfiction, but she is very invested in the fanart of her works. Her favorite artist is, of course, Cassandra Jean, and she also loves Charlie Bowater.
She loves writing with Holly Black and probably would only do more Middle Grade writing with her.
She is very much anti-censorship and anti-banning books, especially because of the form it takes in the US (aka, censorsing books dealing with issues affecting the BIPOC and queer communities).
She doesn’t believe they’ll do another TMI adaptation in any form, even though she doesn’t believe the TMI books’ story was ever truly told. She hopes, one day, that TID can get made as it’s the most adaptable series in her catalogue for logistical reasons.
If she couldn’t be a fiction writer, her dream job would be a travel writer. She intensely loves traveling and making her characters travel as well.
Her favorite author of all time is Dorothy Dunnett. She thinks you should check out The Queen’s Thief by Megan Whaler Turner (I agree). And she’s currently reading Hidden Pictures by Jason Rekulak (I really enjoyed this one).
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queen-beefcake-sqx · 10 months
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Please do your Sanctifying Kim Take!
Perceiving that man through HDB coloured glasses put me off of most fandom depictions of him. Not to mention how absolutely tiny he's depicted when he's of completely average size. (2-3inches shorter than Harry who is above 6ft. Like I get people do be havin size kinks, but that man's not short)
Canon Kim is the most trigger happy cop depicted in the entire game. He shot 6 kids people between working in juvenile detention and processing, is a severely repressed speedfreak with unprocessed grief (still working Dom's cases) and a wild card (not above using Harry's amnesia to manipulate Joyce when he knows him for a couple of hours), who can maybe have 2 Auth over world soggiest superstar but let's be honest don't we all?
He is so petty that he will die in the tribunal if you give away his pen lmao. Like that man is literally two steps above Harry when it comes to being a weird cop, and that's being lovingly understanding. He needs Martinaise just as much as HDB does.
op I am holding your face gently and shaking like a wet chihuahua. you, you get it.
Here’s my thing — as a general theme, I’ve noticed fandom takes seem to lean into the belief that because Harry’s deification of Dora crashed and burned so spectacularly, that (1) deification of Kim would be just as unhealthy and (2) Kim would outright reject that kind of worship.
And like. Okay. I can see how you’d make a case for that, sure. Except as you pointed out Kim is actually really fucking weird, and damaged in his own way, and most importantly — Kim wants to be cool. There’s a purple check that outright states Kim values being perceived as cool FAR MORE than he lets on. I’ve already written a post that mentions how significant it is for Kim that Harry thinks he’s cool, and what I’m gonna say next is an extension of that:
I think, somewhere deep down and repressed, Kim would actually love being deified by someone, and if Harry put in the work to have a healthy relationship with religion, they could actually make that dynamic work.
Long thoughts and explanation under cut:
Alright a little background on me: I was raised Unitarian Universalist and have a history of deifying my lovers. Harry’s anguish over Dora was very heartbreakingly familiar (although I didn’t destroy my life quite as spectacularly), and the way Harry uses inquiry to engage with belief systems (personal, political, scientific, and religious) is VERY Unitarian. One of our precepts is literally the constant and continuous search for truth and meaning in the world, and that’s Harry’s whole MO. So a lot of this is personal experience coloring interpretation.
A few years ago I wrote a piece of meta about why Tian Guan Ci Fu, a novel about a worshiper’s love for a prince turned god, is better treated as a fairy tale instead of a typical character-driven novel. I bring this up because in the meta I set forth that there were three really big themes that the story teaches us about divinity:
Books Two and Four encapsulate Xie Lian’s biggest lesson - that no one person can hope to end all suffering, even a god, and that putting a person on a pedestal places unachievable expectations upon them.
The rest of the books deal with two different but tangential lessons — devotion means seeing the best in people, regardless of their flaws; devotion also means inevitable destruction when you are not valued to the same degree.
I bring this up because, incidentally, these are the EXACT same themes that Disco Elysium deals with in regards to deification and devotion. I firmly believe the rest of the text about Innocences corroborates this, but even just looking at Harry and Dora, these themes are SCREAMINGLY relevant. Harry destroyed himself when Dora, his Innocence and god, left him. Their relationship was never really equal — there was a class difference, the abortion and difference in want for parenthood, the fact she walked out on him at least one before. Harry placed Dora on such a high pedestal that he set her up to fail him when she couldn’t handle Harry’s addiction and deteriorating mental health at a job she encouraged him to pursue.
Because a really important caveat about those themes I didn’t elaborate on — “regardless of flaws” doesn’t mean never acknowledging them. I really think Harry got into his head that Dora could truly do no wrong and found himself increasingly hurt and floundering when she proved just how wrong that was, and instead of acknowledging things they BOTH needed to work on — to do better, to improve, to grow — Harry got angry, resentful, and depressed and Dora got out of there.
And I don’t blame her, nor anybody else who did the same. I don’t blame Jean’s anger with Harry’s carelessness with his life, even if the way he expresses it is actively harmful. But the problem is Harry is a vast, vast soul — he feels things very deeply and extremely. I like fics where he learns to work through it and love a person to a Normal(tm) degree, but there’s a part of me deep down that feels like that is impossible for him. There is vitriol or there is devotion and there is little to nothing in-between for him, and for him a healthy relationship isn’t less devotional/religious as much as it is reconceptualizing what it means to be divine — stealing from my TGCF meta, he needs to remember that deities were human before they were ever his god, and as someone who’s worked as a cop, he should KNOW how messy humans are.
And minus himself, fuck if there isn’t a human messier than Kim Kitsuragi.
I’ve written a bit about Kim’s self-image and the significance of Harry finding him cool before. Kim is honestly a mess. He’s implied to be still struggling with the death of his partner some time in the past, is trigger happy and hates it, and is also implied to be ostracized from his coworkers. Kim does his job because he genuinely thinks it’s one of the only ways he can do good under a military regime that’s got airships ready to attack at a moment’s sign of rebellion. He smokes one cigarette a way to challenge his own volition and give off an air of untouchability because he has to be cool, he has to, he has no power in his life if he doesn’t!
But I genuinely believe that cool is tested at every turn, and I think there’s very few people who see the cool without seeing everything else about him — all the things he’s ashamed of, that make him feel lesser or othered. And Harry sees all those things over time, with a thorough enough run — he learns about “Kimball” and the bad eyesight and his fierce protection of his status as a “true Revacholiere”.
But it’s day one that Harry can call Kim cool. Regardless of flaws you uncover or not, Harry can see Kim as someone to be admired. Because that’s what Harry does with people he likes. And when was the last time anyone called Kim cool and meant it genuinely?
I think it’s noteworthy that Kim tries to stay humble when Harry gets excited about Kim — he downplays himself or pulls Harry out of flights of fancy about the degree of his “coolness”. He reminds Harry that he’s human… even if inwardly he preens at praise and recognition. (I’m too lazy to go through the Fayde viewer right now to back myself up, but just really pay attention to his Empathy checks sometime). Kim keeps Harry from constantly putting him on a pedestal like he did to Dora.
It’s also noteworthy that regardless of what a hot mess you are re: addiction, Kim still respects you as a detective and will defend you to your precinct. Remember that third theme, about relational devotion? Devotion doesn’t work if you’re deifying someone who doesn’t respect you, and thus won’t hold you to the standard of their divinity. There’s a thing in teaching where teachers want to shy away from difficult or disruptive students, thinking we’re accommodating them when in reality we’re not challenging them and are disrespecting their right to learn. Respect also means setting boundaries and trust, and I don’t know how much of either Dora and Harry had by the end.
Kim sets boundaries right off — No, we will not talk about the pissing contest until the field autopsy is done, don’t even try asking again. Yes, I do think now is a bad time for a drink and you should stop being careless with your life. No I will not tell you a secret about myself. Kim isn’t afraid to draw lines in the sand with Harry, because not only does he respect himself, but he wants to see that Harry respects him, too.
And in exchange, Kim displays his respect openly in front of peers — in front of the organization he’s worked to protect his reputation within — to defend Harry. Known drunk, bad-cop-or-cop-with-bad-days, sad sack Harry Du Bois. It’s acknowledgement from the object of his devotion that he’s done good work and can do more, if he keeps putting in the work to get better.
The point is — I don’t think Harry can change how he loves people, I think its just inherent to who he is as a person, but devoting himself to the altar of Kim Kitsuragi might actually work, if only because Kim wants that worship and will hold Harry accountable for not letting it consume them both.
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bullet-prooflove · 18 days
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Sunflowers: Brendon Acres x Reader
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Tagging @kmc1989
Companion piece to Lifeline
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You don’t make much money working for the FBI. They pay you a modest stripe end, one that parallels how much it would cost to house you in the penal system. It’s just enough to afford a shitty apartment in an even shittier part of town. When you factor in transport, utilities and food, there’s barely enough cash left over to purchase art supplies, let alone any luxuries. It makes things harder when Brendon’s birthday comes around. He’s a man of wealth, of means and you barely have two dollars in your purse to rub together.
It shouldn’t matter but it does.
Brendon was the first person who showed you any kindness when you agreed to work for the FBI, he treated you like a human being, saw you for who you are. It was him that lobbied for you to consult with Special Investigations because you were dying out there in Art Crimes under Henderson’s control. Brendon had given you back a part of yourself you thought you’d lost, he’d shown you a different path and you will forever be grateful for that.
It’s your dress that helps you figure it out, the black one with the yellow sunflowers. You’d picked it up at a thrift store a couple of days before, it’s in surprisingly good condition. It’s insane that you used to spend thousands of dollars on clothes in your previous life and now you’re trying to work out if you can make a twenty stretch.
You’re sitting at your desk when Brendon sets a mug of coffee down in front of you. He takes up his usual perch on the corner as you tidy away the pictures of the Degas you’ve been studying. It’s a fake, you can see it even without seeing the piece of art up close.
“I’ve always loved sunflowers.” He tells you, his fingertips brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. “The problem is I’m allergic to them, I break out in hives if I’m anywhere even close to one.”
“What do you like about them?” You had asked him and he’d given you that smile and a half-hearted shrug.
“They just make me happy.” He tells you, you can see the truth of it in his eyes. It’s such a silly little thing but the fact he’s chosen to share it with you, speaks volumes. “They’re fun, colourful, they make me think of brighter days. I think that’s why I’m smiling so much this morning, your dress…”
He trails off, his gaze slipping down to his coffee mug as his cheeks flush pink.
“Maybe I’ll try to wear it more often.” You tease and he laughs at that. It’s such a rich, vibrant sound and it lights up something inside of you.
You like this man, really like him.
You haven’t felt like this in a long time.
It takes a few days for you paint the picture. You choose an A5 sized piece of paper because you feel canvas would be too intimate and you aren’t ready to give that much of yourself to someone else. Creating art, it’s a private experience, when you gift it to someone else you’re really handing them a piece of your soul, showing them your true self.
You spend your evenings hunched over the battered desk in your apartment, working to the sound of Vance Joy as you mix your paints. You have a very specific colour pallet in mind. A rich blue that matches the hue of Brendon’s eyes, a vibrant sunshine yellow that contrasts against it. You have a scene in mind from the last time you were in North Dakota, four sunflowers swaying lightly in the breeze alongside the barn your family used to own. It’s the last happy memory you have of that place and you’re giving it to Brendon.
Brendon doesn’t expect to spend his birthday shuttling between LA and Salt Lake City but then again it’s the nature of the job. He’d been looking forward to getting dinner with Simone and Cutty but it’s past midnight by the time he gets into the office. His birthday’s over before he even realises it.
It’s when he collapses into his desk chair that he notices the brown paper envelope sitting on his  desk, his name written in your pretty looped scrawl. He’s intrigued when he picks it up, his fingers breaking the seal eagerly.
He can’t help but smile when he sees the artwork. It’s an original piece, painted by your hand, he’s known you long enough to recognise your style. The bold use of colour, the delicacy of the drawing itself. He thinks he’d know you anywhere.
When he turns over the piece, he studies the words written in dark pencil and something just blossoms in his chest.
Brendon,
May all your days be as bright as sunflowers.
Mona.
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burst-of-iridescent · 9 months
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i’ve gone back and forth a lot on whether to respond to this because the last thing i want is more discourse, but since you seem absolutely determined to put me on some sort of trial, anon, i might as well get my two cents in.
so let's talk.
one, i have said over and over again that i am more than willing to talk to anyone i may have unwittingly hurt or offended, if they came to me directly and off-anon. despite the fact that you surely knew that, since you evidently stalk my blog, you did not do so. instead, you continued to yell at me and accuse me of racism anonymously, rather than actually engaging with me. what this tells me right off the bat is you're not interested in a productive conversation. you're interested in harassing me.
two, i've talked to indigenous zutara shippers. i'm friends with indigenous zutara shippers. i've read what many native and indigenous shippers in this fandom have to say. i know shippers who like the fire lady katara trope, shippers who are indifferent, shippers who dislike it. what makes your opinion any more important than any of theirs? and conversely, what makes their opinion any more important than yours? no singular person can ever claim to speak for their entire community, because people of colour aren't one monolithic entity.
as a desi girl, katara's relationship with aang makes me uncomfortable because it is characterized by patterns of imbalanced emotional labour and misogyny that i frequently see within my own community. and it is my prerogative to dislike the ship because of that, just as it is for any other woc. but it is not my prerogative to say that no one else is allowed to ship kat.aang, or is racist or misogynistic just for shipping kat.aang (and indeed i know women of colour who do ship kat.aang! because our cultural background doesn't mean that we're automatically going to have the same experiences and perspectives, and that's valid).
so am i really supposed to listen to indigenous voices, anon, or am i simply supposed to listen to those that agree with you?
three, i won't deny that the fire lady katara trope can be racist. i've seen it executed in ways that make me profoundly uncomfortable, and which i will never support. but more often than not in zutara fandom and content, "fire lady" is simply the name chosen for the fire lord's female consort, one that denotes katara as zuko's equal and a powerful world leader in her own right with her own title. if the trope is executed problematically, that fault lies with the person who wrote it and their own ignorance/malice/racism - not with the trope itself.
personally, as someone whose people were colonized by the british, and whose home was subjected to japanese imperialism, i completely understand why it can feel extremely empowering and wish fulfilling to have woc in positions of power within the systems that oppressed them. if i saw a desi girl on the throne of england, you can bet i'd be the first to celebrate.
but of course that's just my opinion, so if any indigenous or native shippers have thoughts on the trope, i would love to hear what you have to say, and discuss further.
four, despite your alleged care for katara and indigenous women, anon, you have never once engaged with my criticisms of the show for its depiction of kat.aang: a relationship where katara's partner is visibly disgusted at her cultural food, acts disrespectfully towards her cultural artifacts, attempts to dissuade her from finding justice for her mother (a victim of imperialist aggression), and tries to impose his own cultural/religious beliefs upon her without considering that she a) has no obligation to follow those beliefs and b) her own culture's beliefs are vastly different. all of which, by the way, he is never shown to apologize for or learn from. add to that the fact that 2/3 of katara's children show absolutely no connection to her culture and, in fact, seem to heavily prioritize their father's instead - to the extent that all of her grandchildren seem solely air nomad instead of paying respect to both sides of their heritage - and a very troubling picture is painted.
keep in mind that this isn't some fanon trope or problematic fic created by a small subset of shippers within the fandom on an internet space meant primarily for adults; it's a canonical depiction of a romantic relationship with a woc on a show written by two white men and broadcasted to an audience of millions, targeted primarily at young, impressionable children. what are the messages being sent here, and to whom, about interracial relationships featuring indigenous women, and the role said women are expected to fulfil within those relationships?
but instead of criticizing the white creators who did that, you chose to take out your anger on me, a fellow poc descended from colonized peoples, because... i'm an easier target? because i'm accessible, and they're not? because maybe, just maybe, this isn't actually about indigenous people at all?
five, being a shipper (or an anti) isn't the same as being an activist. it just isn't. people can read and write and enjoy things in fiction that they would never support in real life (though ofc sometimes people just suck and that bleeds through into what they consume and create - but my point is that you absolutely cannot decide by their taste in fiction alone whether they are bigoted or not) because if our fictional takes translated to real life, most of us would probably be mass murderers by now. the only thing you can really judge anyone on is what they say and do and how they treat others in real life.
and you made that abundantly clear with this ask you sent me after i reblogged posts spreading awareness of the fires in hawai'i and sharing links to donate:
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so just to clarify here, you would prefer that i don't use my platform to try and help actual indigenous people, people who have lost their homes and families, who are actually suffering, who actually require assistance and money and resources... because you don't like my headcanon for a fictional indigenous-coded person?
(yeah, i'm sure you'll understand why i'm skeptical about this entire crusade being in any way about the welfare of indigenous people.)
ultimately, i know none of this is going to change your mind. if you ever intended to genuinely speak out for indigenous issues, or make me see what i was doing wrong, you would have messaged me personally and stood by what you had to say. but that was never your real aim, and you know that as well as i do, so i'm certain i'll see you in my inbox again tomorrow talking about my racism or lack of accountability or whatever else you can find to disparage me.
i wish you the best. have a good day.
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daidonzo · 1 year
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Chapter 9 - I only get carried away by your smile and the beauty spot near your eyes [Chishiya x Reader]
You were completely over your non-break-up break-up.
You still looked for Chishiya in crowds, but it was normal, wasn't it? Like stalking on social media the girl your ex-boyfriend cheated with four years ago and being completely invested in her life. Okay, probably not very normal, but still not a toxic coping mechanism. Right?
You had been hanging out basically every day with Kuina and had found a new friend named Tatta. You were placed together in a game and got along really well, and he seemed carefree and easy-going, which was exactly what you needed at this particular moment.
Also, you were avoiding Niragi like the plague. You tried meeting him at other parties (now sober) and getting some information out of him about the safe Chishiya mentioned, but it hadn't been useful. You were also sleeping at Kuina's room now since once, returning to yours, you had saw him waiting by the door, big gun on his shoulder.
You also attempted a couple of times to get a conversation going with Aguni but he was even worse and, to be completely honest, he scared you to death.
Getting close to the Hatter wasn't really an option. You had no doubt you could join his own little personal harem, but if you had to be honest, you found it absolutely disgusting and the girls he had at his side probably lasted two or three days before being replaced by new ones.
So you had put the mission you were assigned on hold. You agreed the system at The Beach was more of a dictatorship than this utopia of happiness everyone seemed to believe in, but you were not about to start a demonstration to topple an oppressing government. After all, they had all the guns.
Your days consisted on enjoying yourself, sunbathing, hanging out with Tatta, Kuina and their friends. You also bathed in the pool once or twice but then remembered what they said about pools in Las Vegas and thought it could probably apply to the ones at The Beach as well, so you didn't do it anymore.
You also played games whenever you had to, but you chose to only cross that bridge when you got to it.
All in all, you were doing well. So an occasional look at a large group of people to see if you would see a blonde man in a white hoodie was not too bad, or so you told yourself.
Purposefully going where you knew he would be was another thing, though. But having a crush (was it just that?) on Chishiya was like being addicted to drugs - the dose needed to be reduced little by little so that you wouldn't get sick in the process.
Nothing could have prepared you for having to be in the same game as him, after going no-contact since you kicked him out of your room.
There were five of you, two militants, a young boy, Chishiya, and you. The militants were sitting in the front of the car that took you to the game area. In the back, Chishiya sat in the right seat, the young boy in the middle, and you in the left seat. You had to avoid looking at his direction every few seconds, because every time you would look, you found him staring back at you.
The game - spades, low number - went fine. It was a simple game of tag, weapons were allowed, and the militants took care of the taggers very quickly. You, of course, had fallen while running and scratched your knees, but other than that you were okay. Just glad to be able to survive for a few more days.
And glad Chishiya would as well.
You arrived back at The Beach, the militants, serious, the young boy, static, Chishiya, still quiet. You were tense, but this was a test and you had passed it with flying colours. Not once had you tried to speak to him or psychoanalyze his expression when he looked at you.
Abruptly, you found him at your side, which almost made you jump.
"Don't scare me!" You screamed, and your first instinct was to hit him in the arm with the back of your hand. Touching him again would have sent you on a downward spiral, if it weren't because him appearing when you least expected it actually agitated you.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to. Can I talk to you?"
No. You thought. "Yes." Was what came out of your lips.
And so you followed him into his room, wondering if he was going to ask you to play Detective Conan a little longer. Or reprimand you, because you actually were not playing it anymore.
"I'm sorry." Was the first thing he said when you had both seated down. You, on the floor, by the closed-but-not-locked door, keeping your distance. Turns out you actually reminded yourself of a cat, keeping the exit close to you to be able to disappear if (or when) things got ugly.
You were so shocked you didn't even know what to say, so you waited for him to continue. He didn't.
"What are you talking about?" You asked, confusion replacing any other emotion.
"About the role I asked you to play when I told you we were going to steal the Hatter's cards."
Oh.
That was it, then.
You knew you were not going to get anything more from him, but you wanted more. You deserved more.
"Why are you sorry?"
He arched his brows. You were trying not to smile. You probably were both thinking that this conversation resembled a mother teaching his toddler a lesson too much. Whatever it looked like, it felt good.
"I didn't take into account how you felt."
"And?"
"That was it."
Okay, it was still Chishiya. You couldn't push it much further.
"I forgive you."
You almost laughed when you saw the look of surprise on his face, because it probably wouldn't be of any help in this situation.
"That easy?"
"Yeah, I just needed you to say sorry." You shrugged, smiling. You had never been a person to hold grudges and sorry was already a hard enough word to say to torture the other person.
"Still. I don't feel it's enough."
"You can make it up to me."
"How?"
"Let me stay the night?" Your cheeks turned deep red just from asking. But you really, really, wanted to sleep with him without being influenced by any substance.
He smiled, and nodded. "Was going to ask you to either way. Por Kuina deserves a night on her own."
You stuck your tongue at him and climbed to his bed, laying down. "By the power vested in me I declare this my new secret hiding place."
He lied down next to you. "Still surprises me how quickly your mood changes."
"I have always been like this. Like a rollercoaster."
He didn't say anything else. But his hand looked for and found yours. He squeezed it, softly. And you squeezed back.
"I did mean it when I said you looked beautiful the other day."
"Of course I did, did you know how many hours I spent getting ready?"
"It was not about that. You looked beautiful when you were dancing on your own."
You moved closer to him, changing your posture slightly so you could look at him without letting go of his hand.
"So I look beautiful when I'm happy?"
"You do."
Then you must have looked radiant at that moment, because this was the happiest you had ever felt in the Borderlands.
He lifted his free hand and caressed your cheek with his thumb, the rest of his fingers getting lost in your hair.
And just like that, Chishiya and you were together again.
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dandyshucks · 3 months
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okay okay here we go - very messy off-the-cuff oc intro under the cut with some design sketches + doodles (IT'S KIND OF LONG):
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random other doodle (another system member's self portrait i think? idk djfkdl) for the last pic there sorry fhdksl it was just a handy photo i had on hand that had almost the same dimensions for tumblrs cropping shenanigans (also that one emoji is there in the first pic bc i couldn't get that eye to cooperate fjkdkl)
anyhowdy uhhmm heres Theodor and Philby... Theodor uses he/she and Philby uses they/it and I'm literally just now realizing that they cover the main four bases wtf ... that was not intentional but it is funky and fun !! Theodor has a few nicknames like Teddy, Dory, Theo, etc, while Philby is is just Philby (their full name is Philbert but only their parents call them that LOL)
Theodor has a port wine stain birthmark on his left cheek ! and Philby potentially has rosacea but I'm still looking into that to make sure I'm not pulling any shitty moves if I'm going to have that be a part of their character. they (Philby) use mobility aids occasionally, generally just a cane, sometimes crutches, but they also have a wheelchair on hand for more difficult days.
Teddy is an interesting mix of very patient and loving while also sometimes cocky and impulsive, so he sometimes say things that are unintentionally hurtful or offensive (but is learning to apologize swiftly to help mend his mistakes). to people who don't know him well, he might come across as arrogant occasionally. he enjoys designing clothing items that Philby will often sew up for him, as well as experimenting with different coloured art mediums (pastels, paint, chalk, etc) and makeup (he is absolutely a skincare girlie fjfkdl). he comes from a family that's well-off (definitely upper class but not necessarily wealthy) so he's used to having money to throw around and doesn't quite fully grasp what it's like to be poor or working (or even middle) class, so there's some butting of heads there.
Philby comes from a working class family, not poor but definitely lower class lol. they have a fair amount of pride and can be kind of prickly, but they're extremely thoughtful and can be very kind and patient when they want to be. they're very practical and well-organized, and is integral to keeping things running smoothly in the household. they're very skilled with sewing and they also happen to be a good cartoonist! it takes a bit for them to warm up to new people, but they're usually just neutral and maybe a bit blunt with people they don't know well. if they dislike a person, they tend to have an attitude of "i don't want to waste any of my time on this person" and avoids the person rather than taking the time and energy to decide if they want to be pointedly rude or remain polite.
both of them are really good with kids in their own way! Philby likes being fun and clownish while Teddy prefers to be more of a comforting ... well... teddy bear sort of presence LOL. both of them are super patient w kids though, and they love to spend time helping out with kids when someone needs a babysitter! (why yes this is almost entirely just an excuse for me to think abt how they'd be so good with the kiddos in our system LMAO) if they ever ran a daycare or preschool together they'd be absolutely phenomenal at it, especially since they make up for what the other lacks in their approaches to interacting with children.
Theo prefers kitschy grandma-type aesthetics in both clothing and decor, while Philby enjoys a lot of bright colours and fun patterns that would fit more into "c.lowncore" and "k.idcore" aesthetics (with some occasional punk influences). Theo enjoys a lot of clothing that is maybe considered more feminine, while Philby just wears whatever is comfortable and brightly coloured, occasionally with some blacks to make the colours pop more!
they have a really interesting contrasting dynamic, Theo being a "gentle giant" while also being somewhat impulsive and more prone to hurting people accidentally with his words, and Philby being smaller in stature and more prickly but also much more thoughtful and careful with their words and actions.
also bonus funny thing: Theodor had a trad g.oth phase as a teen in highschool that lasted a couple years hehe
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transmasc-wizard · 2 years
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do you want to Rant about harry potter worldbuilding?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Preface
I love two things. Those things are any opportunity to dunk on JKR & everything she's made, and good worldbuilding.
There is only one thing that I love in this discussion, and it is not #2.
This will be split up into sections; hogwarts & its houses, magic, bigotry/things that make me go hmmmmm, and things that just generally don't make sense.
And just a note: Harry Potter fans? Get Off My (Blog's) Lawn.
With that out of the way:
Hogwarts & its Houses
I cannot stress enough that even when I was in my HP phase, I thought the houses were fucking stupid. You're telling me the four types of people are brave, smart, nice, and ambitious and there are no mixes or other options? You're gonna say that with a straight face? At 10 years old I was mapping out percentages of how I thought I and my friends/family members would fall, and none of them would fit concretely into just one house.
Like. If you know me moderately well, you know I have gripes with V. Roth's Divergent, due to the premise being "most people only have one personality trait and the protagonist is special because she has three". But at least Divergent showed people who broke out of that restriction. In Harry Potter, no one questions why people are sorted into groups that represent their core personality & values when they're ELEVEN YEARS OLD. (The closest thing to "mixing" houses would be the fact that the Hat had trouble sorting Harry, but like... in the end, it decided based off of his 11-year-old mind that bravery was his defining character trait.)
They can never even change, and they are expected to base their personalities around it enough that the Hogwarts house of grown adults who haven't been to school in 40 years is still relevant.
I hope I don't have to explain why even if people were built in a way that they all had the defining trait of brave, smart, nice, or ambitious, it would be extremely unlikely for that trait to stay the same from age 11 until the day they die. I really, really hope I don't have to explain how that's ridiculous.
Like. IIRC, the whole reason the Houses are like that in the first place is because four people founded it and based the houses on their own personalities. You cannot??? Categorize all of humanity based on one friend group??? Hufflepuff is extraordinarily unbalanced/messy because of this, imo; Rowling realized "hey, not everyone fits into these 4 categories" and so she made anyone who wasn't brave, smart, ambitious, or the typical Hufflepuff nice into Hufflepuff anyway.
Magic
there is no magic system in Harry Potter lol. Calling it that is way too generous. Magic works because it needs to for the plot. It is almost never inconvenient for the characters--it's just exactly what they need. (There's barely even any boundaries to what it can do except for... summon food? I think? idk.)
There's no information given on how spells are made, why they work, why you need a wand, why some people can do magic without wands, why you need to use potions for some things and spells for others, whatever the fuck is going on with Divination, how new spells get known/popular, literally how the fucking planets are involved (Harry takes astronomy and it's supposed to be relevant), how the magic of magical creatures is different or similar to the magic of humans, how people can do magic accidentally & without wands as children, how magic is viewed in different cultural contexts, how ALL OF THE TIME TRAVEL MAGIC was stored in one fucking place, where magic comes from, or even how magic itself works beyond "wave wand, say magic word, bam! spell".
For fuck's sake, you don't even learn why magic is colourful.
This isn't inherently a bad thing. There are well-done fantasy stories with super vague magic systems. But if you are going to have a story about a magic school where magic people learn how to do magic tricks, YOU HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THE MAGIC BEYOND JUST LISTING SOME SPELLS AND POTIONS.
Other people have said this more eloquently, but like. It's why Harry sucks so much. (See the joke of "no one's favourite HP character is Harry" that used to be vaguely (?) popular, at least where I was hanging around in my HP fan days.)
Harry is passive and does not notice or do anything even remotely related to the actual premise of a magic school where you learn magic, because then JKR would have had to actually think about how her magic works. He just cheats off of people or learns things in lessons she never describes because he was, like, staring out the window or talking to his friends or whatever.
Bigotry/Things That Make Me Go Hmmmmm
the race of slaves who like being slaves and whose rights are a joke that only one character genuinely cares about
the whole shit with "Native American wizards were so primitive and weird with their magic until European wizards came along and taught them to do better" (this is in companion material, not the OG series, btw)
similarly: using creatures from Native American legends as backdrops for her History of Magic in North America thingy, but not actually... talking to Natives or having Natives star in the story. (see: using the Pukwudgie as a Ilvermorny house name but not talking about the Wampanoag tribe, which it's from.)
the goblins, who are hooked-nosed greedy creatures that control all the money and hate the Wizards, and who also literally have a Star of David on their bank floor in one of the movies
the date rape potion that gets frequently mentioned that no one says is a date rape drug (makes the person think they're in love with whoever brewed it, or smth like that. when it wears off, they realize what happened. may i say: what the fuck?)
Unicorns only approaching girls because they're "safer" and "purer"; this is r*dfem rhetoric and gender essentialism. (No I am not saying misandry is real or that she's being sexist against men, I am saying this is the same foundation T3RFs use to hate trans women & TIRFs use to hate trans men)
Things That Just Don't Make Sense
Truth potions exist. They work 100% of the time. No one thought to use this in Sirius Black's trial, or any other criminal trials in the wizarding world, because JKR doesn't think about things.
luck potions exist. They work 100% of the time. No one thought to use this to shoot Voldemort in the face, because JKR doesn't think about things.
Time travel magic literally all being destroyed in one go. You're saying you cannot make more time turners??? They're just gone?? And you're saying every single one was in the Ministry basement?? yeah ok sure.
How that "taboo" thing works. Yeah that falls in magic in general but I hate this one specifically so it gets its own spot
The logistics of skill level in magic. Again, this falls under magic, but it deserves a special note. I have no idea what is easier or harder to do when it comes to magic, and it is never explained in a sensible way.
the logistics of having a fucking giant squid in a lake. what does it eat. does it eat the mermaids
how come humans can make babies w/some magical creatures (see: Fleur being quarter Veela) but not others, e.g. goblins?? (or,,, can they also have babies with goblins....? Never mind i don't want this one answered)
SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK DO THE PLANETS HAVE TO DO WITH MAGIC AND HOW IT WORKS. FUCKING TELL ME PLEASE
In Conclusion
JK Rowling's Harry Potter series has weak as shit worldbuilding and a 12-year-old with a hyperfixation on unicorns or something could do better than she ever will. thank you and goodnight
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kalcifers-blog · 11 months
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Spider People as TMA Avatar's BC my neurodivergent ass needs to combine everything with TMA apparently.
I will be assigning one character to a single entity each just to keep this simpler (however I do believe most of these characters would be apart of more than one entities)
Please feel free to include your own takes and thoughts!!!
The Stranger: Ben Riley - He's a clone of Peter Parker, imo unlike most Spider People he'd have even worse identity issues because his identity is literally not his own for the most part
The Corruption: Peni Parker - just. The comic. Girls going through it.
The Dark: Spider-Noir - yes this is mostly BC of the colour palette (or lack thereof) but it just feels right imo
The Eye: Margo Kess - I don't know what it is about technology related characters but they always scream Beholding to me. Margo included.
The Flesh: Spider-Ham - the only reason this fucker isn't downright horrific is because he's a cartoon. HE WAS A SPIDER THAT TURNED INTO A PIG THATS HORRIFYING. Also pigs can and will literally eat anything and spiders drink blood need I say more.
The Desolation: Hobie Brown - the only character I don't see as "serving" any entity. I feel like he only would be apart of the Desolation if it meant he was able to take down greater evils (and then would accidentally find out that he's irrevocably linked to it and would probably have a whole crisis about it).
The End: Peter B Parker - man is surrounded by death. Like the only people in his universe that isn't dead is MJ and Mayday.
The Extinction: Pavitr Prabhakar - his universe is literally collapsing into itself as we speak. It's not just people dying- the universe is literally deleting itself
The Vast: 1610 Peter Parker - He was the first Spider Person (to my knowledge) to see into the multiverse and saw just how fucking huge it is, you can't tell me man wasn't low-key having an existential crisis due to knowing just how miniscule he is compared to the multiverse? (Also all Spider People have an element to The Vast imo but 1610 SM especially to me tbh)
The Lonely: Miles Morales - this boy is so fucking lonely it genuinely pains me. Could you imagine being 14-15. The only people who will ever understand you are literally in different dimensions and you give up on your passions as an artist to focus on science to find a way to get back to them because you're so desperate for a genuine connection to someone again. Only to find out that they had the capability to see you for MONTHS and they just. Didn't. I feel so strongly about this one that it genuinely hurts me.
The Slaughter: Gwen Stacy - the music motif mixed with definite unending untargeted anger is VERY slaughter of her. Also her and Melanie King would get along
The Spiral: The Spot - I feel like I don't really need to explain this one tbh
The Buried: Jessica Drew - I mean this in the sense that I genuinely believe she really disagrees with Miguel and his approach to- everything. But she's trapped in this position as his right hand because she can't risk anything happening to herself or the ones she loves (yes the buried can manifest as the emotional feeling of being trapped and unable to move or do anything).
The Hunt: Miguel O'Hara - that man. Was on all fours. Chasing. A child. Also he's a vampire (TMA lore makes any vampire automatically Hunt coded) so I don't think I need to explain any further.
The Web: Lyla - she's literally the whole system to the whole Spider Verse. If Miguel is the Spider Lyla is the strings of the web- she is what holds the ENTIRE multiverse together under the story of "Canon Events". Need I say more.
AND THATS MY LIST!! Please reblog with your own thoughts too I would love to hear them!!
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pmwritesandpoems · 11 months
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A Timeless Hogwarts Legacy: Enchanted to Meet You (1/16)
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Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy Main Title: A Timeless Hogwarts Legacy Pairing: Ominis Gaunt/Original Female Character Tags: Romance; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Fluff; Friendship; Mutual Pining Chapters: 16
Summary: Long graduated and in the cusp of young adulthood, Evelyn Rose, the "Hero of Hogwarts" finds an even harder trial to conquer than defeating evil goblin and protecting unknown dangerous ancient magic, when she sees certain Salazar Slytherin's descendant who she fallen for standing at the altar with someone else. Little did she know, a legacy she gained from Hogwarts will manifest itself even in conditions that make it nearly impossible to exist, and help her.
Notes: I posted this on my AO3. But decided to post this here as well.
This work is fully inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album, Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) AND is my first fanfic for...ever?
Chapter: 1/16 Title: Enchanted to Meet You Word Count: 5,952
Reminder:
I won't mention the main character house, you could choose her house yourself
You could change my original character name with yours, I’ll try my best to not mention her skin, hair, and eye colour so you could match it with your own. 
I  am no expert of the Victorian era, the use of the calendar system, etiquette, and many other things from the said era are changed as I see fit to support the story. Several insertions of modern era culture will be present as well to support the story.
You could also read this on AO3.
I tried my best to write this despite the fact that English is not my first language. I hope you’ll still understand and even have fun reading this!
p.s. please don't hesitate to comment if you'd like!
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1. Enchanted to Meet You
Present Time, Spring 1895
Evelyn Rose had no intention of coming in the first place. She dreads the day she received the letter and even tried to burn it as soon as she saw his handwriting on the envelope. But alas, here she is. The cold white marble and green carpet greet her footsteps as she enters the foyer of the grand mansion with her head down. 
“You could at least elevate your chin so that everyone may admire your beauty.” 
Evelyn startles as she hears someone talking beside her all of a sudden. She turns and sees a brown-haired gentleman to her left, who is smiling warmly with the same freckles and bright brown eyes she has known for more than four years. Her shock quickly turns into happiness.
“Sebastian!” She exclaims and smiles at the brunette. “Long time no see, old friend.” 
Oh, how she misses him. It has been a long time since they met in person, with all her duties as the liaison officer for the goblin office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and his duties as the matron apprentice at St. Mungo’s, they find it hard to even just send owls to each other. Several letters that they had exchanged in the past three years since their graduation are not enough to compensate for her longing for her brother through friendship. It’s also been years since she visited Feldcroft. So, Evelyn follows her whim and hugs him tight, not minding the social etiquette.
“Oof,” Sebastian huffs as he feels Evelyn’s sudden hug, to which he replies happily. With his arm wrapping her like a cocoon, Sebastian says to her hair, “I miss you too, Eve.” Evelyn felt how much he misses him too through their hug. 
After a while, Sebastian begins to move his arms away. “I should let you go now, since people are staring,” he explains.
“They’re probably searching for the rings on our hands with that spectacle.” Evelyn chuckles and reluctantly lets Sebastian go. “Sorry for that,” She says sheepishly, tucking a rogue strand of her hair in.
“No need to be sorry. And they won’t find it since it’s not us who are getting married today.” Sebastian chuckles and teases, “And also, if I my memory doesn't fail me, I have not and have no plans to bind myself to someone till the last of my breath in the near future.”
Evelyn’s heart stops for a second after she hears Sebastian. To be reminded again of where and for what she came here today is rather painful. She takes a deep breath and answers sadly, “Yes, it’s not us.”
“Hey, don’t be so glum.” She feels Sebastian’s hand on her shoulder. He tries to cheer her up. “At least it’s not a bad venue, huh?”
Evelyn sighs and tries to smile as brightly as she can. She looks up and finally appreciates the foyer in its full glory. In awe, she asks, “I thought... Didn’t Ominis say that his family fortune was depleted rather quickly?”
Sebastian shrugs. “Maybe his engagement brings new fortunes to the empty treasury?”
“Well, it’s certainly beautiful.” Evelyn’s eyes scan the foyer with astonishment. It is grand, very grand that Evelyn feels she has been transported to royalty’s castle. The rich sure live in a very different way. The enormous sparkling chandelier above nearly makes her forget the pain. But it all comes back as her gaze moves down and lands on an enormous door. It is made from wood and carved with beautiful snakes and ivy patterns with a familiar family crest in its center.
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Evelyn and Ominis were standing on the shore of the black lake. They stood in silence, the gentle ripples of water brushing over their shoes. 
With his delicate skin caressed by the warm sun, Ominis appeared ethereal. She could practically see how beautiful the constellations of beauty marks on his left cheek were, connected by his faintly visible veins, as she stood to his left.  He was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The classic traits of Gaunts, enchanting yet dangerous, as Sebastian had said. 
Evelyn broke the silence after she saw Ominis holding something between his right thumb and forefinger. “Such a shiny ring you got there, Ominis.” She said softly.
Ominis’s lips curled in disdain. “More like a bloody ring.”
Evelyn didn’t miss the resentment in Ominis’s voice, but she decided to continue, “Is that yours?”
Ominis sighed, his voice becoming strained in sorrow. “It’s my late aunt’s.”
“Oh…”
Silence came between them once again. Evelyn should have guessed it when she saw the size of the ring. It was too small, even for Ominis’s slender fingers. It could probably only fit on his little finger. 
Ominis probably felt how intense her gaze was since he gave her a clearer view of the ring by moving it to his open left hand. Evelyn smiled and began to try to note all the details of the ring. Silently thanking Ominis’s sensitivity. It was clearly made of gold and had no jewel stones. But it could still be considered a beautiful ring, even in its simplicity. It has an engraving of a crest, which is a shield of scales with two snakes facing each other in its center and what Evelyn assumed to be thorny ivy tendrils on both its sides.
With her curiosity overcoming her guilt, Evelyn finally asked, “Is that your family crest?”
Ominis’s thumb touched the snakes on the ring. “Yes, it is.”
“Does every wizarding family have a family crest?” Evelyn asked in astonishment. In the muggle world, only noble houses wear crests. Perhaps the wizarding one was different? Perhaps everyone could have a crest.
“Most likely just the old ones.” Ominis shrugged. “Old rich ones.”
“Oh…” 
Ominis chuckled at Evelyn’s disappointment. To lighten up the mood, he then jokingly said, “Archaic, pretentious, racist, stick-in-the-mud ones.”
Evelyn giggled. “And your family is one of them?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Mine is one of the oldest ones.”
Evelyn turned herself completely towards the boy. She traced the engraving of the ring on his left open palm between them. “If you don’t mind me asking, what does it mean?”
“It represents everything I despise in myself.” Ominis said bitterly. He closed his palm, blocking Evelyn’s view of the ring. “Unquenched thirst for power and blood purity maniac.”
“Ominis, I—”
“No, I’m glad that you asked.” He cut Evelyn, opened his palm again, and continued sarcastically, “You see, we Gaunts believe that power is everything. Which of course, is perfectly consistent with the concept of blood purity. We believe that being a pureblood means one has a higher position in life than others and wields more power over them. Not to forget, there’s also a special ability that only we have, courtesy of our cunning ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. The ability to speak parseltongue, which you already know, I unfortunately inherited, is like the oil for our already scorching ego.” 
Using his left thumb, he pointed to the snakes in the centre of the ring. "The snakes and scales on the shield signify it. Our noble way of life and the reminder of our great founding father,” He in disgust.
“With our vital role in wizarding society as the direct descendent of one of the most powerful wizards in the world, we have to keep the belief alive and our blood lineage clean," Ominis added. “We must preserve our ancestors' legacies while maintaining our authority over society.
“Like any other old barbaric family in the world, we do it by indoctrinating our children and practising inbreeding. We pride ourselves on how we teach our younglings about blood purity and the dark arts. We did it as soon as they got a wand from Ollivander to ensure that the propaganda was well embedded in their minds. Our method is unique, and no one else with a conscience probably agrees to it. But, it was extremely effective. We force our children to cast the curse they’ve learned on muggles. Killing two birds with one stone, I suppose. Teaching them about our rank in society and the power that comes with it.” He shrugged nonchalantly before he continued.
“The finest aspect is, the younglings didn’t have any choice in the matter. Since we also teach obedience and suppress their free will by making their own father curse them if they don't do as told. Their fathers also cursed them for showing weakness, like crying because they couldn’t bear to hear the screams of tortured souls for example. Screams that could be heard nearly every day in the Gaunt mansion. Especially from the dungeons. It made us Gaunts especially effective in producing a new batch of dark wizards in every generation—an accomplishment we Gaunts are immensely proud of.” Ominis ended with a sarcastic smile that sent shudders through Evelyn’s body. 
“I would be one of them if Aunt Noctua didn’t come to visit every summer.” He spoke again, his voice heavy with loss and despair.
Evelyn was too stunned to speak. Because of what Sebastian had told her, she already understood how horrible the Gaunt were. But listening to Ominis, the one who got through it himself? A hundred times more heartbreaking than it was before. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining how hard it could be for a child to go through what he did. A child was not supposed to get through that in the first place. She would’ve died if she had been in his place.
“Well, that's what the shield and ivy indicated,” Ominis added nonchalantly, perhaps feeling uncomfortable with the silence that had crept in. “It signifies our obligation to safeguard Slytherin's lineage and legacy.”
“I'm sorry,” Evelyn said, trying to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.
Ominis sighed. “Don't be,” He said softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
"I made you recall something bad about her," Evelyn sniffed. "When today is meant to be the day you honour her memory," her voice cracked as the tears began to pour.
“Hey,” Ominis said, hastily putting the ring in his pocket as he heard Evely’s sob. He then frantically traced his way to Evelyn’s hands and held them tight. “It’s all right,” He said. With a soothing motion, his thumb began to massage her hand. “I was able to appreciate the good memories because of the terrible ones. You reminded me that she was the good in the midst of all the awful things that happened to me as a result of my family. You actually helped me honour her more.”
Evelyn couldn’t help herself. She hugged the boy with all her heart, wishing that her sympathy and condolences were conveyed through the physical touch. She buried her face in his chest, and cried.
Frozen in surprise, it took a while for Ominis to finally begin to hug her back. And when he did, waves of emotions came out of nowhere and flooded his heart. A tear fell, indicating how exhausted he felt from holding it all back. Letting himself finally feel his pain and grief, he hugged Evelyn tighter and cried as well.
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“It is stunning. But not my style." Sebastian’s remark about the grandiose room pulls Evelyn back to the present.
She blinks to make the tears in her eyes dissipate. With a tight throat, she smiles at the brunette beside her and responds, “I see.”
“And I see that you’ve found the entrance to the greenhouse,” he continues, giving a knowing look to the glistening tears in her eyes. With an understanding smile, he gives his elbow to her, “May I have the honour to escort the most beautiful lady on this occasion?”
Evelyn begins to smile in earnest and links her hand through his elbow, “You may. But don’t let the bride hear what you just said.” 
With hushed giggles and laughs, she and Sebastian walk hand in hand to the massive door. Evelyn looks in awe as she sees it open on its own with no more than a low creak. It’s been almost five years since she first learned about magic, but it still amazes her every time.
“Was afraid I’d have to open that all on my own. Can’t embarrass myself in front of the lady now, can I?” Sebastian makes a playful remark, brightening up the atmosphere.
Evelyn responds with another joke as they walk through the door frame, “What? You don’t have the strength?” 
The sudden sweet smell of flowers and the warmth of the sun that she feels make her pause, bringing her and Sebastian to a stop. The plants surrounding her and the clear sky that is visible through the glass walls and roof make it feel more like she’s outside and less stuffy than before. She immediately relaxes. With her voice lighter, she continues with a smirk, “I could do that on my own.”
“Oh, I believe that.” Sebastian says. “You did stop the goblin rebellion all by yourself. O'great ancient magic wielder, I never question thy might.” He continues with an exaggerated tone. 
Sebastian’s response brings laughter to Evelyn. “Good. You should.”
Still hand in hand, they continue to walk down the aisle. Anyone who sees them probably believes they are the ones who are going to marry. Sebastian, as the jester he is, realises that and decides to crack another joke at it, which successfully makes Evelyn laugh once more. They step halts when they’re on the third row from the front. 
“Well, this is your seat, O'great ancient magic wielder.” Sebastian exaggerates his tone playfully, unlinks his elbow from Evelyn’s, and bows low.
Evelyn smiles at her friend's antics. “Couldn’t we sit together?”
“I am sorry firecracker, the groom told me in advance that his family had arranged the seat. I got the second row on the left,” Sebastian says, pointing to another bench that is very far away from where they are now.
Disappointment, followed by despair, immediately fills Evelyn’s chest. She will be alone, with Merlin-knows-who beside her, without any support, while watching the love of her life bind himself for eternity with someone else. 
The forlorn she feels can probably be seen clearly on her face, since Sebastian quickly touches her shoulder and says in a soft tone, “Hey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Don’t be so glum.”  He rubs her shoulder, “We could waste ourselves away in sadness later at night, while also depleting the Gaunt’s liquor stash. I bet they have the best firewhiskey with their newly acquired fortune.” With his eyes looking straight into Evelyn's, he smiles, “Let's just try to be happy for him this afternoon.”
Evelyn shakes her head. “Yes, yes. You’re right.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. As she opens her eyes again, she notices that the greenhouse is still practically empty. An idea comes to her mind. “There’s almost no one here but us and the house elves. Maybe you could just sit beside me. We might just say that this is the arranged seat.”
“Eve…” Sebastian chastises her.
Evelyn grabs Sebastian's right hand and holds it tight with both of her own. Desperately, she begs, “Please, I don’t know if I could make it through alone.”
"Fine," Sebastian says, seeing Evelyn's begging gaze. “I am already knee-deep in trouble, might as well dive in.” He then takes a seat on the bench, leaving a spot at the end for Evelyn.
She smiles gratefully at the brunette and takes the empty seat beside him. They are currently seated on the third-row bench on the right side, with Evelyn seated right next to the aisle. 
After feeling comfortable enough, Evelyn shifts her sight to the front. Her view of the arch is as clear as crystal. She notices how beautiful the arch of white flowers is, especially with the decorations beside and behind it, which make it appear like something out of a fairytale. It’s so beautiful that it becomes nauseating when she remembers that it will be the place, where the love of her life makes a lifetime vow with someone else, in a few minutes from now. And she will be watching it.
“I’m about to throw up.”
“Please don’t,” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I didn’t bring any bags with me.”
“I could just puke at you.” 
“And ruin this crisp suit I ironed for three hours?” Sebastian says in offence.
In disbelief, Evelyn says, “You ironed your suit for three hours?”
“It’s a meticulous process,” Sebastian huffs, justifying his collar and blowing off imaginary dust on his shoulder. “And the result did not disappoint. You can be honest. I look handsome.” He boasts.
Now it’s Evelyn’s turn to roll her eyes. Ignoring the flaunting brunette beside her, Evelyn focuses on trying to contain her nausea. She closes her eyes and counts to eighteen.
One…
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“I used to count to eighteen,” Evelyn said to the boy who was sitting on her right. They were both sitting on the edge of the upper astronomy tower, just behind the railing with their feet dangling.
“Why?”
Still closing her eyes, she answered the boy, “Well, my birthday is on the eighteenth of November, my house number is eighteen, and the legal age is eighteen. I guess I just like eighteen.”
Silence came until the boy spoke timidly, “My birthday is on the eighteenth too. The eighteenth of January.”
Opening her eyes in shock, Evelyn turned her head to the right all of a sudden, accidentally whipping the poor boy’s face with her hair, “Hey, it is today!” 
She then grimaced when she saw the boy rubbing his cheeks, “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry!” Her right hand cupped his left cheek, trying to soothe the pain she caused. With her focus only on the handsome face in front of her, Evelyn didn’t even realise she kept her hands on his cheek longer than she should. A soft smile bloomed in her face as she gazed at his face—a smile that, sadly, he would never see. 
“Happy birthday, Ominis.” She continued to rub his left cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t congratulate you sooner.” 
She felt him smile and heard his shy voice in response, “Thank you. And It’s okay. There aren’t many who know anyway.”
Then, realisation came to Evelyn like a graphorn. She quickly dropped her hand from his cheek and put it above her lap, her head down with shame at her own behaviour—which she actually didn’t regret a bit. “I really am sorry.” She apologised again for being late to congratulate him and also, for her last behaviour. Thank Merlin he couldn’t see her right now. Her cheek was probably as red as a tomato. “You’ve been my friend for more than half a year, and I never asked. Sebastian has most likely prepared your present from a month ago and ready to hand it to you at breakfast later.” 
“Well, I wouldn’t have known, since I am currently distancing myself from him right now. As you know, I’m still trying to process all the feelings from…”
Evelyn could feel the sadness herself and didn’t need any more explanation. “Yeah, me too.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “From now on, I will be the first person who congratulates you every year.” She promised. 
“I would like that. If it doesn’t bother you.” Ominis answered timidly. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile as she saw his hopeful face.
“It doesn’t. I’d be happy too,” She said. Silence came again between them until Evelyn groaned, “Ugh, but I still don’t have any presents for you right now!”
“It really is okay, Eve,” Ominis said gently without any hint of disappointment.
“But I wanted to give you one!” She protested. Frustration could be heard as she continued, “And just my luck, I already promised Poppy I would help her after class this afternoon! I can’t go to Hogsmeade without breaking the curfew.” She sighed and began to sway her dangling feet back and forth, thinking hard, until suddenly... she jumped! 
Her mind lit up, she stood straight from her previous place at the edge of the astronomy observation deck. “But I still can go and come back in time if I use the floo powder and run as fast as I can after it!” She exclaimed and then started to rapidly question the startled boy beside her, “Ominis, what do you want? A cake? A book? THE new book of the Nightingale collection? Oh! You probably want something sweet. How about your favourite Honeydukes fudge? I could go to the—”
Evelyn stopped as she felt a hand holding her right arm. The hand then moved down carefully as if trying to find something. It stopped when it found Evelyn’s right hand and clasped it tenderly.  Evelyn was dazed, her mind still comprehending what had just happened. THAT was out of the blue. She had reason to cup his cheek and quickly withdrew her hand. But THIS? 
She heard Ominis chuckle and say, “I am grateful that you’re willing to break the curfew for me. But…” He trailed off as he pulled her back down. She followed the tug, her gaze focused only on their intertwined hands, and sat in her previous place beside him. “I have a better idea,” he continued.
“Wh-what?” Evelyn stuttered as she still felt his hand holding hers even after she sat. His rather rough but warm hands enveloped hers. Her face couldn’t be more red.
“Let me use your technique to calm down.”
After hearing his request, Evelyn's gaze moved to his face, just to see a bright smile adorn it. That caused her mind to become blank. “Huh?” 
Ominis chuckled. “Would you mind if I used your count to eighteen technique whenever I needed to calm myself down? As my birthday gift?”
“W-Why?” Evelyn asked in confusion. She really didn’t have a single idea why he preferred such a gift.
“I just like eighteen.” He shrugged and then rubbed his thumb on her hand, “Like you.”
Evelyn's brain refused to work as she felt his soothing touch, “Uh...huh?” 
“O…kay?” 
Seeing Ominis’s eyebrow raised with concern after he heard her dumb response woke her dead brain. Clearing her throat, and trying as best as she could to not think about their still entwined hands, Evelyn answered with more certainty, “Okay. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Good.” He smiled. “If I may suggest, you probably should start to count now. I could feel and hear your heartbeat accelerating at an alarming pace.” He chuckled. “I can’t have you become brain-dead every time I do this.” Ominis raised their clasped hands.
Evelyn laughed out loud, and he quickly joined. Swaying her dangling feet back and forth, she felt her heart full as the wind breezed through her hair softly, her hand still holding his.
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Seventeen…
Eighteen.
A pretty annoying complaint from her left side makes Evelyn open her eyes. It turns out the source is an old lady, whose seat—from what Evelyn can gather from her seemingly never-ending complaints—should have been the one Sebastian is currently occupying. The old lady continues to show frustration as Sebastian tries to explain how he got the different instructions when he entered the greenhouse—which obviously is a lie—and insists on sitting beside Evelyn. 
“I am sorry madam, but I just got the instruction to sit here. I can’t move freely since I’m afraid it would insult the host.” Sebastian says politely.
Out of the blue, the old lady opens her folding fan with such force. Evelyn’s eyes widen in surprise. She never thought a fan could be so threatening. The old lady can probably cut through anything by doing that. Shuddering, Evelyn tries as best as she can to avoid the fan and tries to protect herself with her purse.
 “Well, I was instructed to sit here as well!” The old lady says, fanning herself in annoyance. “Who are you, young man? And who told you to sit here?!” 
Still in a polite tone, Sebastian answers, “I was supposed to sit beside Phineas Nigellus Black.” He then pulls a long face, “But the butler suddenly told me that my seat had been moved here.”
“Phineas?”
He nods, “Yes, madam. The butler said he’s sorry for the inconvenience and asked me to relay that the reason for the absurd last-minute change is because Profes-uh, I mean, Mr. Black himself, asked to sit beside you.”
Smooth Sebastian, smooth.
“Phineas Nigellus Black asked to be seated beside me?” The old lady responds in a surprised tone.
“Yes, madam.”
“Hmph. Finally. He should have done this since the beginning.” The old lady then huffs and closes her fan. “Well, then. Farewell, young man.”
If Evelyn could, she would applaud Sebastian’s successful trick as hard as she could. She puts her purse back on her lap as the old lady begins to walk away. She then sees the old lady take her ‘designated’ place and open her fan with such force once again. Evelyn flinches at the sound. 
Shaking her head in disbelief, Evelyn turns and asks the scoundrel beside her, “Seriously, Professor Black? Our Headmaster Black?”
“Yes, I noticed the Black family crest brooch on her sash.” Sebastian points to the old woman again. “It is pure luck that I was supposed to sit beside Professor Black in the first place and she wanted to sit beside him.”
Evelyn smirks, “Pure luck indeed.”
In offence, Sebastian exclaims, “Hey! My quick thinking saved you from hearing her complaints and nonsense for the whole event.” He narrows his eyes at Evelyn, “You should be grateful.”
Evelyn decides to tease him more, “Yeah, and I saved you from sitting awkwardly beside our beloved headmaster for at least one hour.”
“I guess we’re even then.” Sebastian shrugs and smiles.
The steps and murmurs of people who start to come into the greenhouse and sit in their own places distract Evelyn from continuing her teasing. She realises that the Gaunt really invites many ‘important’ families, as she sees the ladies and gentlemen wearing sashes and their house crest pins proudly with their bejewelled gowns and suits that are probably worth more than what Evelyn makes for a year. She then sees her simple dark gown.
Refusing to feel the creeping insecurity, Evelyn decides not to think about it and continues to tease Sebastian. She whispers as everyone begins to quiet down, “You should research how you can have so much luck in your life. With everything that’s already happened, you could be the embodiment of liquid luck.” She gasps exaggeratingly, “Or... Did you have an endless stash of it?” And continues, “Well, well, well, Mr. Sallow. Why didn’t you tell—”
She stops all of sudden when she hears the soft clinks of the piano. She turns her head to the enormous door behind her, which opens slowly.
Sebastian also turns and then comments proudly, “Here comes the groom.” 
Evelyn’s mind goes blank as she sees him standing under the door frame. He seems ethereal, standing alone with the lights surrounding him like a halo. No words could fathom how stunning he is. His black suit frames his tall, lean body, and accentuates his broad shoulders perfectly. His neatly styled blond hair draws attention to his cheekbones, allowing his constellation of beauty marks to show through. Making him even more beautiful than before. 
And his eyes—those pale blue eyes that Evelyn desperately wants to forget—still make her feel butterflies when she sees them. It is definitely safe to say that Ominis is still as attractive as he was when they first interacted. Or even more.
She gulps and whispers, “Here he comes…”
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Autumn 1890
Evelyn gulped and whispered, “Here he comes…” This was certainly not how she imagined her first conversation with the Slytherin boy to be.
“You’re the new fifth year. Did you just come from the Undercroft?! How did you get in there?!”
Evelyn flinched at his high tone. It took a while before Evelyn could answer him. “That…room’s called, ‘the Undercroft?’ Ah…Well…I was exploring and suddenly found myself in a strange passageway—”
“Don’t lie to me. No one ‘stumbles’ upon that room. Sebastian told you, didn’t he?”
Evelyn sighed. So much for lying. 
Ominis’s voice got sharper than it was before, “You breathe a word about this place to anyone, and not even your precious Professor Fig will be able to help you.” 
Evelyn’s eyebrow shot up when she heard the threat. Is the room that secret?
“My father is friends with the Headmaster.” He boasted. “I’m not afraid to exploit that connection if, I, need to.”
Evelyn took a deep breath and answered honestly, with the hope that she didn’t break his and Sebastian’s friendship or her own chance to be his friend over this incident. “Trust me, Ominis. I won’t say a word. And Sebastian is a good friend. You shouldn’t immediately assume the worst of him.”
High in offence, Ominis responded, “I don’t need you to tell me about my oldest friend! Thank you very much.”
Evelyn panicked, “Ominis, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Ominis cut her off with a sharp tone. “Sebastian gets himself in enough trouble. He doesn’t need your help.” With that, Ominis walked away to the Undercroft entrance and murmured, “Sebastian is going to get an earful about this.”
Evelyn snorted all of sudden, hearing his plan to scold the brunette Slytherin was too much.
Ominis steps halted and turned his body towards her again, “Excuse me?!”
Hearing his insulted tone stopped Evelyn’s giggle for a moment. “It’s just—it’s funny.” She giggled a bit again. “I imagined how you would scold him, probably all afternoon, like a doting mother to her son.” 
Ominis looked dumbstruck at the giggling girl before him.
Evelyn then took a deep breath to calm herself, “I’m sorry, it’s just too funny.”
“Well, I am not amused,” Ominis said while crossing his hands in front of him.
“I never thought you were the doting mother of the relationship. It is funny,” Evelyn smiled softly. Even in anger, Evelyn still found the boy fascinating. “But also endearing.” 
The silence from flabbergasted Slytherin made her continue, “Which is another reason as to why I wanted to introduce myself to you since I first saw you at Charms.”
“You—“
“Yeah, but I never got to since Professor Ronen called me out of the blue when I tried to join your conversation with Sebastian about using accio on human beings.” Evelyn shrugged, “He gave me a lecture about how I am a special case as I started at Hogwarts as a fifth-year student and even promised to help me catch up with the rest of the class by giving me a ton of assignments! Can you believe that?” She ended with disbelief.
Evelyn didn’t give Ominis the opportunity to respond and continued to rant, “I am already having a hard time processing the ‘magic exists and you just don't know it cause you’re apparently a muggle’ shocking revelation! And don’t forget about the an—” Evelyn stopped herself as she realised she was beginning to spill all her secrets to him. To the boy who was threatening her just a minute ago.
“About the what?”
“Uh…I said too much.” Trying to move the conversation to another topic, she continued, “Anyway, I think you are right. We couldn’t use the summoning charm on human beings and since we would be doing it to their clothes instead.”
Ominis lifted his chin up, “Hmph. Of course I’m right.”
“And I also tried to introduce myself to you at the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. But, Professor Hecat also called me before I could catch up with you. You were gone when I finished talking with her. And don’t get me started on Herbology. Professor Garlick talked about how I should enjoy herbology as much as she did since I have a plant name as my last name, just like her.” Evelyn shuddered before continuing.
“Well, it is a fun class, but I am a bit bothered by the carnivorous plants such as the chomping cabbage. I prefer my vegetables to be as still and normal as possible. Well, normal in a muggle way.” She chuckled. “Professor Garlick talked and talked and talked and by the time she finished, I was the only one in class, besides her of course. And…the plants.
At potions, you looked so disappointed with your wiggenweld potion that I tried to cheer you up. But, again, someone beat me. Sebastian started to pull you out before I finally had the courage to do it. And I didn’t see you at flying class. Well, it was disappointing, but I guess that cannot be helped because of your…” Evelyn trailed off as her gaze moved to Omini’s eyes.
“Of my…what?”
She cleared her throat and said, “Your lifetime challenge.”
One of Ominis’s eyebrow perked up. “Well, that's a new perspective on my blindness.” 
Evelyn felt panic creep up. She was afraid that she had insulted him again. Her fear proved to be false when Ominis continued, “Although, I tried flying once. Since it was a mandatory class for first years.” He shrugged. “It was not too hard, I managed to lift off and land successfully on my first try.”
Astonished, Evelyn could only say, “Wow...”
Ominis chuckled and sarcastically said, “Yeah, ‘wow’ indeed.” He continued, “But I found that it was not my what I want to pursue. So, I didn’t attend the class anymore in my second year and beyond.”
Evelyn's brows furrowed, “I didn’t mean that I don’t believe you. It’s just…It’s a shame I couldn’t see you show off your skill on a broom.”
“Maybe you could,” Ominis shrugged. “If we do, become acquaintances. As I see that you desperately wanted us to become one, even though I cannot fathom a single reason why.”
Evelyn felt her blood creeping up to her cheek, “Y-yeah, it would be nice. To be acquainted with you.”
Ominis just smiled at her in response. And by merlin’s sake she felt her stomach flip all the sudden. She was only curious about his wand in the first place. There’s no indication that her relationship with him would be a stomach flipping and heart fluttering event! No, this is probably just a fluke.
But Evelyn’s eyes couldn’t go away from his smiling face. She couldn’t help admiring how his hair was so neat that it made him look like royalty. How she realised that he has a lot of beauty marks, especially on his left cheek. And how his eyes…his pale blue eyes that was like the misty morning on the beach.
“Let's start over,” Ominis said, waking Evelyn from her reverie. He then straightened his posture and formally asked, “Ms. Evelyn Rose, is it?”
Evelyn smiled and in a rush of courage, decided to tease him for his formality. With a pompous tone, she answered, “Yes. I am Evelyn Rose, the new fifth year student who made quite an entrance and became the talk of the school ever since.”
“Tone down your inflated ego a bit, Ms. Rose,” Ominis said with a chuckle. He then bowed his head a little, “Ominis Gaunt.”
“Enchanted to finally meet you, Mr. Gaunt.” Evelyn said with a smile.
“Enchanted to meet you too as well, Ms. Rose.” Ominis responded. Comforting silence accompanied them as they smiled at each other. Until Ominis cheekily continued, “Although, I must remind you again to not. Tell. Anyone. About the secret place you so stumble upon yourself.” 
Evelyn laughed. She hoped that this interaction was the very first page, not where her story with him line ends.
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legendofzoodles · 2 years
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LU Character Design Analysis 3
In case you haven’t seen the previous two posts yet, I’m doing this thing where I’m analysing and subsequently ranking all the designs of the chain in LU. I was going to do it 2 at a time, but I’ve got so much to say that I’m doing it one a time. 
All the designs are really good, it was hard to come up with a decent ranking system that I was happy with and even harder to apply it. The numbers I scored them are subjective and any one of them can be debated. 
With that said, onto the next person on the list...
7th place: Wind
His design is simple and that’s the beauty of it, but it’s also why he’s only number 7. Truth be told on its own it’s near perfect for me; I just so happen to like the designs further up the list more than this one and these clothes aren’t appropriate outside his era.
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Pros: His clothes are lightweight allowing him to take full advantage of his small size and superior agility in combat- it’s difficult to hit a moving target after all. The four long coat tails are genius as they really help push the pirate aesthetic without weighing him down with a bulky coat (an exaggerated collar and cuffs would ruin his simple silhouette), plus they add a lot of style when he’s drawn in action. 
I’m so happy he’s wearing a modified version of the lobster shirt (JoJo even kept the v-line!), I like to think his Grandma made it for his 13th birthday. The white patterns look spectacular and give the design some interesting visual flare without making it look too busy.
The orange 3/4 trousers and ankle boots are adorable, they look comfortable and breathable, which is perfect for travelling the vast sunny seas. I also like the tiny amount of baby pink in his necklace, it works well with the light blue and oranges in his clothes.
The colours are bright and happy, not only for reflecting the sun’s rays but also reflecting the lighthearted mood of Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass as well as Wind’s adorable personality. He’s definitely the moodmaker of the chain, able to lift the spirits of the others with even just a smile. His wide eyes, animated facial expressions and sun bleached hair make him look friendly and outgoing. 
Btw, I’m fine with him not wearing his pointed hat because it’s not very good for sun protection. And anyway Tetra definitely would’ve made fun of it. 
Cons: I don’t really get why he’s so pale. Back in his era he’s out in the sun 24/7 doing all kinds or heroic shenanigans and cool pirate stuff, and I don’t think he’d always heed his Grandmother’s advice to stay in the shade or wear a hat to avoid sunburn. I’m not saying he should be tanned bright orange because it’ll blend in too much with his trousers, but realistically his complexion could be darker.
I know I said it’s great that his clothes are lightweight, and it is for running around on a ship or dipping into quick battle encounters, but not long drawn out fights. There’s a another reason the chain always have a watchful eye on him and it’s because the boy’s clothes aren’t very protective. Even brushing up against a thorn bush looks like it would tear him apart; his clothing looks too thin and flimsy.
Can Legend please lend this child some magical items? Just for this adventure. My heart can’t handle the thought of anything happening to him.
Wishlist: I’m conflicted again. To be honest I really don’t have anything here. I like his design for what it is and I like that it’s kept simple, but at the same time there could be more pirate elements added in. Like a little compass on his belt, or a bandana scarf or maybe a white bandana headband to protect his face from the sun or a trinket given to him by his sister. 
I’d also like to sea some green on him- maybe a light green. I’m not too sure where to put it on this design, but I’ve always liked the idea of him wearing a little waistcoat or maybe he could have some seaweed inspired details on his belt?
Ooh would it be a good idea for him to have an aspect of his design inspired by Linebeck? Like having a waistcoat as part of his civilian clothing or something like that. I’ve not played Phantom Hourglass, but that guy was like Link’s father figure or uncle figure right?
Score:
Aesthetic and visual score (/10): 7 Character representation score (/5): 4 Practicality score (/5): 2 Total (/20): 13
I placed him higher than the other two because I like his design more, it’s cohesive and every bit of it makes sense.
~~~
Thanks for reading! What modifications would you make to their designs? And do you agree with me or not? I’d love to know :)
Masterlist
9th place in the character design ranking
8th place
6th place
4th place
3rd place
Character analysis posts:
Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors
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hello, we are the nightmare blunt rotation! we needed a new pinned post so here it is;
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more info under the cut (alter intros, sideblogs etc.)
we are bodily 28 years old, white, and transgender.
we have several other blogs on here. likes and follows come from @billiejoeshappytrail which is a green day blog ran by four members of our crew
this blog and any other blogs ran by our system are primarily for discussing our own experiences and will not be syscourse heavy, however we are inclusive of all system origins and this will show in our posting habits. we do our best to never reblog from sysmeds so if you notice that we have done then please let us know so that we can block them
alter intros:
dandelion (he/him, it/it's) 28, queer kinky pansexual transmasc, current host 🦁🌼
echo (she/they) 16, ace sapphic demigirl, current co-host 🐇🌸
tigerlily (any/all, fav neos are kid/kidself or tig/tigself) 10, autigender, exclusively likes boys (sometimes in a straight girl way, sometimes in a gay boy way) 🐯🥭
ashmira (she/her) memories are from 12-14 but feels 21, bisexual cis girl 🧡💖
ramone (she/her) 16, bisexual butch gnc girl 🌾☕
julianna (she/her) 35, pansexual, gender unlabelled 💋🩵
itchy (he/him) adult, pansexual lithromantic, transmasc, genderless embodiment of punk rock energy
perry (he/they) memories are from age 23 but feels 17/18, demiboy, questioning arospec
malachite (she/her) ageless, internal self helper to some of us, spirit guide to others, agender, aplatonic, aroace, non fronting
r.m. (he/him) 23, achillean trans man ⚽🎥
chilton (he/him) 20, pansexual trans man 💂💚
sideblogs:
@enderslut (dandy's personal + fandom + shitposting blog, currently mostly posting about iasip, undertale, minecraft, t4t stuff. sometimes post about nsfw topics so minors dni)
@echo-noelle (echo's personal + aesthetic blog, mostly kawaii, lolita fashion, my little pony, pastel colours etc. sfw, all ages can interact)
@babyramone (ramone's personal + aesthetic blog, mostly photography, sfw, any age can interact)
@tigerclubkid (tigerlily's personal + kidcore blog, potential eye strain warning, mostly haven holidays stuff, nature/wildlife stuff, disney, etc. sfw, any age can interact)
@wickedchilton (chilton’s personal blog + hannibal/svu/raul esparza fanblog, may contain nsfw topics, minors dni)
@high-r1sk-1nsurance (itchy, julianna, and ramone's shared aesthetic blog, warning for potential gore, blood, bruises, knives, razors, cops on fire, other stuff like that. any age can interact but be careful if any of that sounds bad for you)
@ki-dd0 (r's musings about his practice + philosophies on making art, sfw, any age can interact)
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sophierequests · 2 years
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Hello,,,, I loved that matthias bookworm headcannon!! Can i request the same for zoya? Thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️
bookworm!reader dating headcanons
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Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request
Pairing: Zoya Nazyalenksy x gn!Reader
A/N: HI! Of course, bookworm!Reader brings me so much joy <3 (#howdidyouknowthatimaliteraturemajor). Even though I have to say, that I am running out of ideas for reader tropes.
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
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Zoya likes to read. She’s not really the person to indulge in a six-part book series, but she definitely enjoys reading the occasional book.
Especially during her studies at the Little Palace, she could often be found reading through the big theory tomes, trying to improve her skills.
So when you stumbled into her life (literally), she didn’t think that this would lead to her developing a genuine love for reading.
You used to occasionally work at the library in the Little Palace, your job mainly being sorting books and reshelving the read ones. One evening, when the hall was already almost empty, you clumsily carried a heavy stack of books to the other side of the room, not entirely paying attention to your surroundings. And of course, this didn’t work. With a loud thud, you and the contents you were holding tumbled to the ground, after you collided with another person you hadn’t seen.
“Saints, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
“Don’t worry, it was my fault too. I should’ve paid more attention. You need help picking up these books?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
As ‘compensation’ for that awkward first meeting, you decided that you should go out for a coffee. And you did.
From then on you spent a lot more time together. She was amazed by the way you talked about literature, and how simple you made it seem to read four books in the span of mere days.
When you started dating, she started sharing your love for books. From then on, she also started reading rather unusual books, that she wouldn’t have thought about reading before.
This also led to your book collection doubling. You had to get another bookshelf to keep all of them organized, especially since Zoya hated having a messy living space. It was difficult to find a sorting system that you both liked - you wanted to go for sorting them by colour, whilst Zoya wanted to sort them alphabetically - so you settled for organizing them by genres. (Even though you still disagreed on whether or not some books were biographical or fantasy works.)
For your birthday, she liked to give you copies of your favourite books, which she had annotated and added her own thoughts. This had become some sort of tradition for your respective birthdays, and you both really enjoyed watching the other’s reaction. (Your handwriting was questionable sometimes, but she didn’t mind.)
“Z? Did you genuinely look up the historical context of this book?”
“Yes, I had some time to spare, and I thought it would be nice adding it for you.”
“Saints, you can be such a nerd.”
“Do me a favour and don’t tell Genya that!”
You often get paper cuts from being just a little too far immersed in a story, whilst also being naturally clumsy, so Zoya always has to try and stifle a chuckle when she sees another small band-aid wrapped around your fingers.
She likes to read to you, and you like to hear her voice, so it’s a win-win situation. Sometimes, however, has difficulties pronouncing the names in fantasy books, and you find that absolutely hilarious.
“What author names their characters things like ‘Éowyn’ and expects us to pronounce it right?”
“Love, that name is so easy!”
Also, falling asleep while she reads to you, but her still continuing to read out loud is definitely a habit.
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marlasomething · 2 years
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(my) Mag a Week:  Sharp Therapy
Hello there!
I am participating in the "mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the first one! (Eps. 1-8)
As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla
Allons-y!
CW: mentions and discussions of mental health issues, family issues and death. The Slaughter usual content with a bit of more physical violence
Also on AO3!
Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his encounter with Sasha James in her never-ending search for revenge for the allegedly provoked death of Tim Stoker.
Recorded by Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
  I don’t understand why you make me write this down, since I can clearly see doing absolutely nothing through the blurry window of this ancient office. However, I guess I have no other option…and I need to get this out of my system.
For my own good, but also for the good of all those I care about.
  It all began a few weeks ago, when I went to pick up my boyfriend from one of his therapy sessions. I won’t say his name, nor his predicament, but let’s just say…he finally embracing the fact that he needed the kind of help a loved one is unable to provide was a great relief.
This is all secondary, though, and I am only mentioning it so you understand why I was rather jolly and willing to speak to anyone non-suspicious enough while I waited for him with a couple of overpriced coffees burning up my hands through my thin globes.
The woman came to me with grieve covering her rather pretty features; she was around my age, which is to say, late twenties/well-kept early thirties; had auburn curly hair, was towering tall and wore too many layers of colourful clothes, though somehow she made them look formal.
In spite of the clear pain she was experimenting, she was quite charming and introduced herself as Sasha, saying she had just recently lose her… should-have-been-boyfriend due to a work accident and was there for the “Lost Family Members” Association, to which she asked whether I was in for the same reason or not.
I froze, because, you see, I actually lost someone. When I was quite young, my mother died. I was only four and, according to my father, it was a good thing she was gone but, though I don’t have a bad relationship with my dad, he can be…well, I’d rather believe my dead mother was a good person, thank you very much.
The point is; it wasn’t an accident. It was actually even spoken about on TV without giving her name: remember the woman who felt from a boat in that creepypasta-worthy video? That was her.
Nobody ever proved who had done it, but someone had and, which was worse, likely for no good reason at all.
Stammering, I asked what had she meant by that and she just replied that she was quite good at reading people and that, even if I wasn’t there for the reunion, I would always be welcomed…and then she started talking with me about this and the other until my boyfriend arrived.
By this point, I had already decided I really liked Sasha James.
  I actually felt convinced enough to the meeting the next week and it was…bizarre just barely covers it.
Everybody in there felt extremely friendly on a first glance, quite put together. Especially taking into account the reason we were all here present for.
However, as time passed and we started positioning for the round circle…I started to perceive the pain in everybody’s eyes.
Well, the pain and something else, something made out of pure fire, something that danced within the part of the soul that only the eyes can properly reflect.
Then, we started talking and…nobody talked about their lost ones, or how they lost them; nor how that made them feel. Instead, I found myself hearing about the people that caused their deaths in extreme detail, one way or another, about their personal lives and even the minor infraction they accidentally committed as almost toddlers…
…but they didn’t stay in their past. They also where they were today and what were their weak points. All speaking in an organized, almost militia-like style; taking turns and not letting at any moment the heat of their very arguments make the worst of them.
I tried to stay behind since, after all, I had no clue of what had happened to my mother but, in the end…
…there is something almost magical about sharing a common enemy, even if said enemy is more of a concept incarnated by a myriad of individuals with no relation among themselves whatsoever.
I…I am not proud but…I made something up, something so believable that only Sasha raised a suspicious eyebrow but, thank God, waited until the session had ended to come and speak with me personally.
  “I know you lied” she said. “But I understand, it’s a bit…too much…Still, trust me, you will go looking for answers, eventually.”
I doubted I was even coming back to the Association, but I’d rather not argue with the only person who had noticed how full of it I was.
“Is that what happened to you?” she shook her head, dismissing my question with one hand.
“Not at all, I had already all the answers the first time I came in, right after I resign from my former job…the one that got Tim killed” she hadn’t spoken today, but I deduced quite easily she was referring to the same person she had mentioned (but not by name) the previous day. “I was full of grieve, and anger, and I just wanted to take them down but, then, I realised, just hunting them…it made no sense. Would Tim’s death mean anything more if I become the hunter of the people responsible for his demise?
Of course not. However, this planet had a cancer, a cancer I had not even noticed before: we are a selfish species, ready to provoke the death of others sometimes not even being conscious of it.
That is what this program taught me: to be part of Something Bigger, to canalise my anger into a proper purpose, to join an army that, as a difference from the ones assembled by countries (or most fictional groups, to be honest), had a worthy reason for existing: fighting back the people that cause death and destruction without even noticing so.
It’s almost a melody in my head. The Song of the Good Fight. Not only that; we know we are doing it right because…you see? We already have a proper rival association. I like to call them The Ultimate Apologists, though the rest of the group think it’s a bit too quirky for such a serious matter. I don’t blame them, but I had to honour Tim’s memory somehow and he…he would have loved that title.
Sorry, I digress. This other group, they honestly believe everybody can make a mistake at any point without it being anything of relevance, and the offended people of nowadays are just too easily triggered. So they had decided to keep us in their line in a very similar manner as we do with them…but without being right.
That is one of the reasons I told you about us, apart from your obvious pain. You seem kind and sweet, but you are also objectively huge; and we need both things combined. So they won’t see the attack coming, it’s all part of our…” her eyes turned a shade of… red for an instance and I felt I shiver coming up my spine “… my cause.”
At that very instant is when I realised why I was actually there, what had made me take the decision to come in. It had been Sasha’s tone; she was commanding, yet charming. She was angry, but she knew how to dissolute said rage in her speech, so you got soaked in with it without even noticing so. Drawn to her and her cause as if it was a universal undisputable truth.
I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. Partly out of the fear itself and part because…she was convincing me. After all, she was proposing me to give purpose to one of those painfully nonsensical realities we are doomed to live through.
So I stayed, just promising myself I was not going to get involved.
  I kept going to those reunions, in which it kept becoming more and more abundantly clear Sasha was the leader, giving tasks and dehumanising our rivals.
That rhetorical speech, the two antagonistic bands, just becoming more and more usual. With the Them in the Us versus Them constantly getting wider…
…and it spoke to me. Without even properly realising it, I was being lured into… murdering. Now, look, I was lucky enough to still have my Tim (sorry Sasha, I know you are hurting).
  See, my boyfriend can be quite observant and he…look, these reunions had made me lose track of his appointments, and, since his job demanded a lot from him, he had decided to leave therapy aside, for later on.
And I haven’t even opened my mouth about it. Not only that, but I started to be more reactive to anything and anyone who bothered me.
Hell! I yelled at the mailperson for giving us the neighbours’ newspaper!
He…he put some reason into me and, alas, I stopped going to the meetings.
With apparently no negative result on my life.
Apparently.
  It was already a few weeks later when I heard a voice in my head, still half asleep. A sweet melody that made me feel home, part of something bigger…just as I felt in the Association.
Then it came another voice: Sasha’s.
“You don’t have to resist, you know? I used to think this was a bit too much too, but then…if you let your anger and pain, your fear act properly….I promise, you won’t regret it. It is much calmer in the frenzy of the rightful fight, come back to us, Martin. This place was a mess when I came in, with you, I can make it ever more orderly. We can take it the next level” even if she hadn’t said it properly, I knew what her next level was. It was always the same once your brain got stuck in that very frame: global fight, forcing your ideas, your cleansing, upon everyone and everything.
And all started because she was hurting too much and, I am almost certain of this, was far too scared of how it would affect who she still was back then if she acted upon the anger consuming her.
Now, she had left all that behind; and she wanted me to join…and I was tempted.
Good thing I had a strong safety net and I could convince myself with their very voices, fighting back all the instincts that tried to kick in.
I completely woke up, hug my boyfriend until I almost broke his ribs and pretended nothing had happened.
  However, once again the voice in dreams came back a few days ago and, with it, Sasha just popped into my little apartment, having forced the door with a strength she shouldn’t have had…
…just as she shouldn’t have been able to put me to the wall, knife out, eyes fixed on me.
“You know, sometimes wars have civilians loses” she pointed to a picture of me, my boyfriend and some of our friends.
I panicked, but she had already left and, I noticed, the humming voice was back, echoing inside my skull.
  It hadn’t left since then, and I am genuinely worried, of what Sasha might do, of what I might do… I think I shall join her, I went in too deep and then…it’s what I must do.
Not for me, but for the safety of my people. However, if you happened to know how to stop her…
…do it. Prove War was never the option.
 Statement ends.
Well, it is good to hear from my former assistant. Though I must admit I am quite disappointed; such a promising young woman, completely lost for the sacrifice of a man that felt really short for her.
I don’t regret counting with Mister Stoker’s help for destroying The Stranger ritual; though Sasha was misfortunate enough to encounter a group that loosely rendered cult to The Slaughter so early in her grieve. Otherwise, she might have found out that, tragically enough, Tim is not dead, but turned into an ally of my dear Jude Perry…
…never mind any of that. After all, these are not the first assistants lost while fighting (and winning) against a Fear…even if she is the first who turned herself into a Leader to fear such as The Fairchilds or the Lukas. I won’t be surprise if I started hearing about the James in a few years…
The important thing, though, is to make sure that my plan against Elias works out tomorrow…
…Miss Cane, I know you are listening. Please, do not interfere.
You and Your Mother will regret it otherwise.
Recording ends.
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