talking from experience, when all you wanna do is finish your damn project the person trying to pull you away from it (for whatever reason) may seem like a monster or a villain but in this case lance was only looking after shiro.
i love the inej vs. dunyasha fight cause even though inej assigns this huge significance of a ‘shadow’ to dunyasha, every time the assassin speaks inej looks at the camera like she’s on the office and goes “get a load of this.”
This request gave me a little bit of a laugh… I filled them all nearly on-impact but Gladio took me a couple of days to think of…
For Noctis, literally just mess with his sleep schedule one too many times. The boy loves his sleep. I feel like Noct would be the definition of, “I ain’t got no sleep ‘cause ‘a y’all, y’all not gon get to sleep ‘cause of me!” whenever he’s petty.
For Prompto, repeatedly use all of the hot water during the rare times they actually get to stay at a hotel. If it happens once or twice he’ll let it slide because hey, these things happen… but repeatedly, when you know he’s gotta take care of his hair? (He hates washing his hair with cold water.) It’s on.
For Gladio, spoil a book for him. He normally reads historical books, but in the rare times that he finds himself with a fictional book, if someone spoils it for him he’ll be rather upset about it. Finally, he found some fiction that seemed interesting, and someone just had to ruin the ending…
For Ignis, drink the last can of Ebony. Whether accidental or intentional, whoever drank the last can will have to keep an eye out for the comeback… even though they’ll never see it coming.
it’s been such a long time since i wrote anything hp, my bad if it’s not the best. anyways, mod gaston needed some of that doggo daddio and i eagerly obliged 🕷️💋
“Pads, cutie at three o’clock,” James nudged his friend causing him to jerk his head away from his other friend, whom of which he was currently holding a conversation with.
Sirius let out a long whistle as he set eyes on the girl.
“Go on then, mate. Go say hi.”
Sirius nodded, mesmerized by the witch, and eagerly made his way through the Great Hall to speak with her.
“Reckon he’ll notice she’s been staring at him since we left the Common Room?” James turned to his other friend.
“I reckon that if she has any idea who he is she’ll tell him to piss off immediately.”
“Moony, c’mon,” James nudged the ragged-looking boy, “Have a bit of faith.”
“You know I normally would,” he tried to hide his smirk as he looked up from his parchment, “But it’s Sirius we’re talking about.”
You tried to take little notice when the boy sat next to you, you really did. You body betrayed you in your attempts, however, and you felt your face heat up a bright red.
“Is that the Charms homework?” he glances towards you.
“Uh, yeah,” you stop your feverish writing, setting down your quill. You pray he doesn’t notice the drastic change in the quality of your handwriting in the last few sentences - sentences you’d written as he got closer.
“Well that’s convenient, ‘cause that’s the one assignment I was needing help with.”
“Well why don’t you ask your friend over there,” you nod towards Remus, “He seems quite…Academically inclined.”
“Because I want your help.”
You raise an eyebrow, Sirius rarely talked to you outside of class, why make an effort now?
He smiles, “Great! Let’s meet in the library after dinner, yeah?”
“I suppose, but -”
He cut you off, jumping up from his seat, “I’ll see you then, sweet cheeks.”
You sighed to yourself, quietly making your way through the rows of books.
“Sirius? Sirius?” you attempt to keep your voice hushed, though there is a slight tinge annoyance.
“If you flaked on me, I’m gonna -”
“____!” you hear your name called enthusiastically from behind a few bookshelves. You follow the sound of his voice, rounding the corner and seeing him lazily drape his arms across the chairs adjacent to him, his feet propped on the table.
“I thought you wouldn’t show,” you huff, placing your textbook on the table.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, babe,” he leans his head back, staring out of the nearby window.
“You don’t seem too interested,” you mumble, frowning.
“Course I am,” he deadpans, slowly turning back to look at you.
“Sirius, if you’re not going to take this, well, seriously -”
“____, I am fully invested in this Transfiguration -”
“Right. This Charms assignment. I just want your help,” he sit straight up in his chair, and something in his expression is sincere. The way the moonlight cast itself across him, it made your heart flutter.
“Fine.” You take a seat next to him, sliding your textbook in front of the both of you before opening it to the lesson you’d learned in class today.
“You, uh, you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”
“Ever been to -”
“Sirius, I’m here to tutor you, not to make small talk.”
Not that you didn’t want to.
Your attitude didn’t deter him.
“Well, I was thinking, one of my friends is a real regular at Honeydukes, and I bet he could get us a deal on -”
You groan, “If you want to take me out on a date, just say so!”
Sirius was stunned.
“I…Well, I was…Yeah.”
You raise an eyebrow at him.
He clears his throat, “Yeah. I would like…That. Whaddya say?” he flashes a smile.
“I thought you’d never ask, really.”
“You for real?” he seems surprised at your answer.
“Why do you think I’m breaking the school rules just to talk to you right now?”
“I dunno. Figure you just were…Being nice.”
“Yeah, well I’m not exactly a nice person.”
“Thanks,” your voice dripped with sarcasm, standing from your chair.
“You leaving?” he asks, brows furrowed together.
“I’m not getting caught alone with you in a darkened room,” you laugh.
“Now what’s wrong with that?”
“You’re Sirius Black. You know the reputation you have.”
“And you’re seriously gorgeous, babe.”
You roll your eyes at his attempt to woo you, “Besides, the Charms assignment is optional, and we both know you do the bare minimum ‘round here.” You get up and make your way towards the exit, leaving him alone in the library.
So this imagine will a cute but sad one with Lip. But well I should be doing assignments cause well this is my last year of schooling but well who wants to be up at 9:30 on a Tuesday night doing assignments when you could write imagines.
Warning: Sad things.
You and Lip have been best friends for longer than you two have been dating which you two have been a couple since well 12th grade which was 4 years ago. You two have also been best friends since well as long as you can remember, you see baby photos of you two a lot, your parents love Lip, he as changed a lot. Fiona loves the influence you have on him and his drinking habits, when he was first going downhill with it, you managed to bring him back up. You swear sometimes the Gallagher’s are sick of seeing you cause you’re always over with Lip doing either fucking or fucked up things, maybe lovey things here and there.
Yeah you two have had your fair share of bumps but tbh what friends haven’t. You believed that Lip wasn’t only your best friend but he was you soul mate, your significant other, and if that belief isn’t correct well then you don’t know what life is really. Lip has seen you at your worst and at your best, when you’ve cried a thousand tears and when you’ve smiled brighter than the sun. He knows you better than anyone else, no one can replace him, even if they tried. But today, it was a bit off, something wasn’t right not with your relationship of course but with well you. You woke up, just not you, your parents even asked what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them,
What's shaman sickness? How do you know if you have it? Is it just a gut feeling you get?
Hi, Nonny. Thanks for writing to me. This is a topic I really ought to have written about sooner! The term “shaman sickness” and related concepts do pop up often in occult circles, and while I hinted at the issue before, I believe I ought to address it at length. I’ll try to do so here, but do realize that this is simply my own take on the issue.
Note: Throughout this, I’ll be using the word “shaman” in the anthropological sense, not referring to New Age “shamans,” nor the holy men of Tunguska tribes that use said title. It’s a general anthropological term and I’m at loss for a better one.
Historically “shaman sickness” referred to an illness or hardship of some sort that befell a person in a tribal (or similar) society and presaged a shamanic occupation. In other words, a person experienced the sickness, and soon after felt a calling to act as a shaman or similar figure.
These illnesses could range from depression to long bouts of fever, and could even include things like recovering from a wild animal attack. This feature isn’t universal, but many societies did “choose” their shamans in this fashion.
Judika Illes writes of this:
Although some enlist, many more are drafted. Very frequently the individual has little choice in the matter. The spirits choose you, their call manifesting through dreams, visions (not necessarily your own), illness, bad luck, and/ or animal attack. Traditionally, in some places, surviving bear, snake, or jaguar attacks was interpreted as a shamanic call.
Illes, Judika. Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A-Z for the Entire Magical World (Kindle Locations 604-611). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.
Nowadays, with the New Age movement having merged with a lot of anti-science/luddite folks, many people jump on this. They say that chronic illnesses (and, unfortunately), especially mental illnesses, are signs that a person must become a “shaman” or “healer.”
I don’t think ancient peoples really “cured” people of things like leopard attacks and psychosis through placing them in a shamanic role. Here’s what I think was actually happening.
In ancient tribal societies, there were no doctors, no a truly systemized way for people to get effective treatment for anything, be it a bout of fever or a jaguar attack. Most people were utterly unprepared to deal with such things, and had no idea what methods worked best.
Except for those who’d been there and experienced it.
Basically, I think that, in ancient societies, those who’d suffered illness were considered healers because they, having survived, knew (at least some) methods for treating such things. This could mean knowing which plants and preparations healed a jaguar bite, or it could mean knowing techniques and copying mechanisms for lessening depression.
In short, I think a sickness was only considered “shaman sickness” insofar as the person’s experience of it allowed them to help others. I’m not even sure the concept is useful in this day and age.
It’s true that those who’ve successfully tangled with a nasty sickness might be able to help others through something similar, but the way the term is usually used in occult communities just causes problems.
Often, it reeks of the “You’re suchan inspiration!” nonsense. By that, I mean the half-baked idea that disabled, mentally ill and chronically ill people have an obligation to turn their life into some kind of glurge-tastic tale of triumph, when in reality?
We just want to live our lives, and have no goddamn obligation to “inspire” anyone. It reminds me of those losers who want praise and adulation for going to prom with an autistic person or whatever.
We don’t need condescending attitudes like that, and yes, the New Age “it’s actually a shamanic gift!” thing is condescending as hell.
It’s even worse because half of these “you are an indigo rainbow shaman!” folks will try to dissuade people from doing things like entering therapy or taking medication. Those are things some (including myself) have actually found beneficial. Such things should not be stigmatized, especially by other magical practitioners. Magical folks really ought know better than that!
Is there a place for the concept of “shaman sickness” in the modern world? Perhaps if it is framed in the context of uncomfortable mystical/magical experiences (which can often be disturbing, but notpathological).
Or, perhaps it could be understood first by understanding that the concept of “healer” has changed immensely over time. Those who dofeel a calling to be such as a result of a traumatic illness or experience tend to approach it with this in mind.
I think most of us who do deal with these things regularly understand the issue. Those who’ve never had such an experience (illness or trauma, etc.,) tend to be much more likely to assign supernatural causes to things like this. At least, I seem to have noticed that.
I hope this post wasn’t too controversial or anything. People are going to have differing views on such a volatile topic. I’ll admit I can be a bit touchy about it myself, mostly due to things that have happened to me in the past, but I hope I came across politely and that my perspective makes sense.
Krennic has never been a stickler for the rules, always reckless and innovative, he rose quickly to fame in the FBI HQ. Needing someone to keep a tight leash on him, Director Mothma assigned him to partner with the senior Agent, Wilhuff Tarkin. With just a year left to retire, in their last mission together, Tarkin gets injured and retires a year earlier, causing Mothma to assign Krennic a newly graduated agent going by the name of Jyn Erso hoping that he’ll learn how to be responsible for his actions. Always at each other’s neck, the tension rises between them when they’re partnered together for a special mission: pretend they’re husband and wife to infiltrate a private community of millionaires who presumably, are also drug lords and are involved in a series of crimes including money laundering and murder.
This story will be found in my A03 account once I post it., which will be soon.
For now, I will let you guys stew on this brief summary for a while. Cheers!
Summary: Winter leaves on his mission. Having spent the entire time thinking of her, he’s excited to return. Where is she? Why won’t anyone tell him where she is?
Warnings: Angst (like A LOT of it)
She holds her hands out to me as I remove the fabric wrapped
around her knuckles.
“I heard Vasily saying you were going on another mission.”
“Can I go with you this time?”
“You did very well today. You’re a brilliant fighter, but
you just haven’t trained enough.”
“It’s been nearly a year.”
“That’s not long enough.”
“You have to stay here.”
“But I can help.”
I sigh, tucking a fall lock of hair behind her ear, “You’re
not ready to be in the field. Maybe next time.”
She smile softly, the corners of her lips turning up
“As long as you promise to stay out of trouble while I’m
Her smile widens as she nods, “I promise.”
Her smile fades as quickly as it formed when the door behind
her back opens.
“(Y/N), I think it’s time you returned to your room. We must
prepare the soldier for his mission.”
She doesn’t move. Her grip on my hand tightens. There’s pain
in her eyes as she looks up at me; we both know what he’s means when he says
they must prepare me. Last time, it took nearly two days for me to remember her
upon my return. I think a part of her fears that this time it could take
I hear his footsteps coming closer, but I don’t dare look
away from her.
“Did you not hear me?”
Her gaze wavers. She drops her head and her hand, nodding.
She doesn’t dare spare a glance at me as she flees the room.
He stares at me, anger burning in his eyes.
“The two of you have become awfully close.”
“I thought that was what you wanted, sir.”
“I wanted her trained. I wanted her alive.” He steps closer
to me, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “I wouldn’t grow too attached.”
“The only thing I feel for her is pity. I have no control
over what she may feel for me.”
“Then I suppose it’s her I must do something about.”
He turns away and starts for the door.
“Sir, what does that mean?”
He chuckles, his gaze still turned ahead when he says, “Never
I watch him leave the room with real fear in my heart when I
realize what harm I may have just caused her.
I’m assigned my mission and, suspiciously enough, sent on my
way without the usual routine. My memory is my own, which leaves me completely
capable of thinking of her the entire time I’m gone. It’s been a few days, but
I’m ready to have her back in front of me. I want to know that she’s safe. That
I’m greeted by the colonel upon my return.
“Why isn’t (Y/N) with you?”
“You’ll see her soon enough.”
He turns away and raises his hand in a gesture for me to
There’s a doctor, and he’s calibrating the chair.
“Where is she?”
“Have a seat.”
I could resist, but I don’t know where she is. I don’t know
if my resistance could make things worse so I follow his order. My wrists, my
ankles, are strapped down. I’m pushed back into the seat.
“Bring her in!”
Two soldiers practically drag (Y/N) into the room. The right
side of her face is bruised and swollen. Her lip is cut. I want to fight my restraints.
I want to get to her.
A chair is placed across from me. She’s placed there, her
body limp and weak to the point that she can barely hold up her head.
“(Y/N)! (Y/N), Котенок,
look at me!”
She struggles, but eventually she’s able to raise her head
enough to meet my eyes. She whispers my name. She tries to stand but falls to
her knees, unable to move any further.
“A sweet little kitten trying to reach her master. Come on,
Soldier, fight for her. It’s part of your mission to protect her.”
He approaches her quickly when I don’t move. His hand
caresses her hair, “Perhaps you’re in need of some motivation.”
His fingers tangle into it a second before her yanks her up
from the floor. She screams for me. He sits her back in the chair, his hold on
“This is all my fault.” She whispers, “Please, just let him
go. I’m sorry. Do whatever you want to me. Just… please…”
His laugh is the only thing to shatter the silence within
“You know what to do.”
The doctor says nothing. He holds the bite guard out for me.
My gaze remains locked on her face as I take the piece of rubber between my
The first shock comes and goes with little pain. Then comes
I open my eyes, remaining silent as I stare ahead of me. She’s
there nearly chest to chest with Karpov. They both look angry; she’s shouting at him.
“How could you do this? You said it yourself! I was to
blame! Why not punish me?”
“You never would have learned your lesson if I had put you
in that chair. Besides that, you may not have even survived the procedure. You are
only human after all.”
“So is he.”
“No. He’s a weapon. Your affections have compromised that in
him. Do it again, and you will find yourself in his place no matter what may
happen to you.”
“You’re a monster.”
“Perhaps but I still own you.”
He leaves the room. She watches him go. Once the door closes
behind him, she sighs.
Her head whips to the side, her eyes open wide in shock.
She runs to me, prying open the restraints that are still
locked around my wrists. I stand, pulling her into my arms.
“I thought you would have forgotten me, like last time.”
“I probably should have. I can remember hearing your voice,
hearing you scream out for me.”
“What are we going to do when he finds out it didn’t work?”
“I think that was always part of his plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted to punish you. Having you think the worst would
be the greatest punishment of all.”
“I’m scared, Winter.”
“I know, Kitten, but we just have to be more careful. For
I wrap an arm around her waist. My other hand laces through
her hair as I hold her head in place against my chest.