Test Muse | Isaac Moriah, 25, Dissociative identity disorder, fluctuating pronouns, The Binding of Isaac (Yes, like the game.)
"Oh, uh . . ." Isaac paused, unsure of how to answer as he swirled his drink. He wanted to lie and say it was all normal, that his childhood and home had been loving, but he felt fire in his throat before he even opened his mouth. It'd been dark, and he'd been so hungry and scared. Alone in that stupid little room for years, and what? Chasing out some demons? "my parents divorced, so you know." He replied, unsure of how they'd even gotten on this subject.
His mom had tried to kill him. He still felt the knife. His father had left, unable to cope with her increasing religious insanity. He didn't know. In a way, he thought that was just what it did to people.
Isaac finished his drink. How had he been expected to deal with it? Fucking survive and deal with the therapy afterwards?
"What about you?" He asked, turning to the other. "You have a nice home-life? Full of peace and love with your pet cat?" He asked, his voice turning to venom.
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So, I've been working on a little something recently and can now show it; A Starter pack/Guide for every year of Gravity Falls' life!
Starting with 2012! Highlights include...
The Slender man hoax
Blendin in the background
Alex's GF Gossiper Podcast interview
STNLYMBL
GF in 2013! Highlights include...
The McGucket Hoax
Rise of Reverse Falls and other AUs
Bill Cipher's reveal
Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained
The Great year long hiatus
Gravity Falls in 2014! Highlights include...
Season 2
GF is moved to Disney XD
Mabel's Guide to Life
The Lebam theory
Bipper!
Gravity Falls in 2015! Highlights include...
The Reveal of Ford
The Rise of Dipcifica
The Mystery Trio
Weirdmageddon
Alex Hirsch confirms the show is ending
Gravity Falls in 2016! Highlights include...
Weirdmageddon 3
Cipher Hunt
Journal 3 and Time Pirates
The Farewell to the Falls Art Show
The Pilot is revealed
Rise of Gravity Falls Amino
Gravity Falls since 2016! Highlights include...
Journal 3 Special Edition
Lost Legends and the box set
GF Alumni making their own shows
New books, merch and even the GF vinyl
Cameos in other shows of Bill
The 10 year anniversary
And that's where we are now! What year or era did you join in?
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The dawn of November 1, 1945.
With the chaos of a recently graduated Tom Riddle sent out into the world, and the ministry breathing that much more down Albus Dumbledore's neck for the last few weeks after he'd been forced on "administrative leave" by the ministry while he was in their custody for the last several weeks, beaten and tortured until he gave into their demands to duel Gellert Grindelwald once more. He knew his husband's actions had grown more horrific over the years that even he could not ignore, and between that, the torture...
He had accepted.
The ministry was unaware of his possession of the resurrection stone, given to him by Flamel in case things turn for the worst in that duel. He's made enough potion to live out the next fifty years with himself and his wife- Should Albus not come home from this. Days before, he had sent out a letter. Part of him hoped it did not make it to him, or he would simply ignore his ridiculous quest for a final duel, to see who would finally come out on top. Or, in the ministries eyes.. If good would triumph over evil.
For the greater good.
Days later, he had anxiously arrived at that location, dressed in his usual attire. His wand was grasped tightly in his hand, other shoved in his pocket, wrapped tightly around the stone in his pocket. He had used illusion charms to hide what a wreck he really looked like, after what the ministry had put him through for the last several weeks. In his weakened state he might've still been quite the formidable opponent- But the ministries underestimated Grindelwald when it came to Dumbledore. He truly didn't know who would triumph this time. He hoped so desperately that the letter had not made it, or he would refuse.
But when was luck ever on Albus Dumbledore's side? @magicblooms
(template/layout credit to @seekingabettergood tysm <33)
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what's also kind of fascinating to me about the way the found family trope has gotten kind of militarized over the past several years, is the apparent idea that consenting adults can only have one type of dynamic with each other...and that one dynamic is the main indicator of what their relationship is.
like. that's just kind of wild to me. I know some of it is tied up in purity culture and the weird pearl clutching about what does or does not constitute a "problematic" dynamic, (read: people who think ANY age gap is pedophilia, or people who think that headcanoning people as found family means shipping them is incest. we'll set aside the people who think "problematic content" shouldn't be written at all for now, that's gotta be it's own post.), but it really feels like some of the reality of human relationships gets lost in these kinds of debates.
a decent example is like. when people treat friendship like a stepping stone to romantic love. as if one is supposed to naturally supersede the other over time. as if falling in love with your best friend automatically means losing that friendship, somehow. we're MEANT to have multiple, overlapping dynamics and relationships with people. you can bicker like siblings with your best friend who also happens to be your fiance. you can take leadership and guidance from someone in one aspect of your life who is fully on the same level of authority as you in another. these things aren't mutually exclusive, they don't cancel each other out.
I think mostly what I'm getting at here is that you can headcanon people as found family without flattening the type and depth of relationships they can have within and around that framework. "family" isn't a flat, pastoral, platonic ideal of a relationship. Pretending that it is, or pretending that any one person's personal headcanons should inform the way other people view those relationships, is both obnoxious and like. generally not useful commentary.
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Hey I wrote something else. That's three weeks in a row posting something to ao3, good for me.
Let Me Have My Vengeance (It's the Only Salve that Saves)
To summon the High King of the Dead, you must make a sacrifice of heroes blood. Unfortunately, what counts as a hero is entirely up to the Ghost King himself, requiring enterprising cultists to capture multiple heroes and test out all of them. The most controversial of these heroes is the Red Hood, Avenger and Guardian of Crime Alley.
The first summoning failed.
So did the second. And the third. The cultists slowly worked their way down the line of imprisoned heroes as they searched for the perfect sacrifice for the King of the Dead. They took turns grabbing a hero by the arm, slicing just above the wrist so the blood dripped onto the eerie green fractal on the floor while the others maintained the circle, waiting to see if this was the sacrifice that would summon the High King.
The heroes were silent, several of them gagged, as the cultists worked their way through one of the Arrows, a Lantern, and two Flashes before reaching the bat family. Luckily, they hadn't caught a Super; gods summoned by Kryptonian blood tended to be able to bring more of their power into the mortal plane. Less luckily, the Supers wouldn't be able to rescue the rest of them despite being free. The cultists had laid down anti-detection magic that blocked super hearing; it was doubtful Superman or any of his family had even realized something was wrong.
The Red Hood growled when they reached him at the end of the line, a rumbling snarl that would set off the hindbrain instincts of anyone sane. He was restrained just as tightly as the others, however, bound in magic and rope, so there was nothing to stop the cultist from dragging him forward. They hesitated a bit. The ritual called for the blood of a hero, and there was a fair amount of disagreement over whether the former crime lord counted. One cultist with a thick crime alley accent assured the others he was heroic enough, the woman barely even flinching at the Hood's accusing look.
He was placed further from the rest, so a second cultist had to come help drag him to the ritual. They dumped him at the edge of the circle, and the first swiftly drew the unnaturally sharp ceremonial knife over his arm. The blood splattered down onto the ritual, slowly being absorbed by the runes, same as the previous attempts, and no change seemed to be forthcoming. The Red Hood was quickly dragged back into place, a cadre of cultists already getting together to discuss finding better sacrifices.
A cultist began approaching the heroes, ready to finish things now that they had no more need of them, and the room ş̵̟̥̬͎̗̝̲͇̪͋̄̏͑̊̅̈̔ ̷̛̪̘̩͍͍̣͙̖̃̑͠ḩ̷̹̪̝̰̗̲̹͚͐́̒̑ ̵̨̛̺̦̆̾͒͌͆̑̚̚ȏ̵̧͇̯̱͌͒̑̏͌̐͝͝ͅ ̸̥̫͙͂̿͛͘ọ̷͖͑̑̊ ̴̘̲͗͋k̷̞͍̙̜̼̒̿͑̓͐̚͜͝͝ͅ.
Cultists screamed, glass broke as something fell, and the heroes launched into action as the magic that held them flickered. Everything froze again though as a fissure opened in the middle of the runes and a strange, inhuman hand grasped the edges from below.
The creature that pulled itself out was difficult to describe. It was the night, the beautiful vastness of the stars, the knowledge that Earth was only a speck of a speck of a speck in the cosmos, that there were billions of years before humanity and there would be billions of years after, all wrapped up into a shape that started human before stretching into endless snake-like coils. It had a crown like the auroras, and sharp claws that gleamed like ice shed in the wake of a speeding comet. Its eyes were bright-burning glimpses of eternity: all the truth of the living and dead there to see if you dared to look.
It was a horrifying, awe-inspiring sight, and, as the creature freed itself from the chasm in the ground, it turned to look directly at the Red Hood.
"Ẏ̶̨̛̪͕̘̰̝̰̩̝̼͌͊̋̌͌͘o̵͇͖͕̔̒́̾̑̔͝ų̷̬̜̦͔̙͎͔̆̈͘ ̵̣̽͂w̸̡̠͇̿̄͗̃͋̔͂͑̄̀e̴̺̯͚̿̈́͗̈̑͂͠ŕ̶̙̜̔̽̃̿͆͆̌͊e̴̫̱͓͌̄̌̌̑͝͠ ̸̢̘̞̬̼̞̗̤̔̀͛͊̇͌t̷̨̗̲͉̰̪̼̺̞̣͊̈́́͆̆̀̃h̶̳̫̲̹͔̒͛̒͗̆̚͝͝e̴̼̥̹̬͆́͋̑̅̏̌̀̀͋̀ ̵̟͕͓͔̱̝̀͂̓̊̒̈́̈́̈͗͝͝o̴͎̲͗̎͒̚ͅň̵̢̳͙̹̫̬̺̫͇̬̬͂ę̴̘͍̯̤̹͇͋̅̆ ̴̨̹̖̖̓͝t̴̨̲̺͔̫̪̥̰̠͈̯͋ỏ̴̲̮̭̌̍͋̃̈́̃̏͆͒̕ ̶̧̧̥͔̗̖͈͍͇͌ͅs̸̛̩͚͕̒̈́u̴̧̫̼͖͔̳̙̤̞͛̏̓̅̂͒͌̊̄m̷̤͆̋̈̓̿̈m̷̤̮̃̄́̀̏͐͛̃͠o̵̜͌̏̌̌̒̀̒̚͘͝ṋ̴̟̬̔̾́̊̿͐̅͘͘͠͠ ̴̛̫̺̯͊̃͒̎̾̏͆̚͠m̴̨̫͐͒̎ë̷͍̬͓̣̖̻̪̬́̆͑̾͘,̵̭͇̩̬̖̩̠̖̐ͅ ̸̬͕͎͛ĝ̸͈̹̦̤͚̜̿̏̈̃̑͜͝u̸̪̤̺̬̰̜̫̲̣̩̇͋͐̕͝ą̴̡̝͙̯͙̑̇͒̊͆̽̉́͊r̶͙͕͇͇͔̈́̽͆̑̿̄d̵̦͚͚̦̮̤̗̹̅͋͌͘̕͝į̷̱̘͇̜̥̽͊͜a̴̱͙̋̏̾̃̽͜͝ń̸͈̥͓̩̙̮͙̳̠͋̄̍̿̒̕͝?̴̛͔̬͈͌̔͋̆͝"
"Uh…," his face was invisible behind the mask, but one could almost see the wheels turning in the Red Hood's head. "I guess?"
"Y̸͚͆̈́o̷͍̊u̸̳͌ ̷̌̓ͅg̷̢̃ũ̷͜ę̴̐̌s̸̰̊s̴̖͆̽ ̶͙̳̈́́y̷̳͛͗ơ̵ͅṳ̵͐͋ ̴̧̾j̷͈̻̓ṳ̷̏̚s̸̹̺͐t̸̬͛͝ ̵̧̏̏s̵͎̘̍̇ǘ̷̖̗̋m̷͉͚͝͝m̶̩͝o̵͎̔n̸̖͑̿e̵̪̬̽̅d̶͖̯̊͋ ̷̓̓ͅț̸̛̎ĥ̷͙ę̵͎̉ ̶̡̜̓̑H̵̢̠̒̿ỉ̶͎̯g̷͕͕͆ḩ̸̟̏ ̷͚̇K̸̬̣̅̊ḭ̸̅̓n̵̼̽g̸̦̥̎͠ ̴̟̮̏̍ò̶͎̥f̶̳͂ ̸̢͊͘t̵̼̋ȟ̴͍̈́e̸̩̓ ̶̢͊͝I̴̳̽n̸̮͐f̴̠͠i̴̥͊n̶̯̬̓̇i̵͖͌t̴̼͂́ȩ̴̿͊ ̸̡̭͊̓R̶̞̦̈́ē̶̢͝a̷̜̔͝l̵̮͇͝m̶͚̹̅͘s̷͕̾ ̸͙̖̈́ẅ̶̢̼́͝ḭ̶̰͂t̸̠̰͂h̷̖̊̈́ ̵͚̤̅͛ą̷̏̍ ̵̰͔̓s̴̡̗̋̔a̶̰̓̅c̶͎̺̀̊r̶̬̊̊ỉ̶̹f̷̲̻̅͝i̶̪̎c̸̼̈̕ḙ̶̱̂̂ ̶̮͑o̶̭͌f̷͕͐̀ ̶͍͔́b̷̘̒̕ͅl̶̅ͅȏ̴͖̻o̷̯͑̔d̴̮̩́́?̵̪̟̄͠"
The being sounded startlingly sarcastic, which was a new one in Jason's admittedly limited experience with eldritch abominations. Though, in that brief moment of casualness, he had gotten a glimpse past the horror to an aura of kindness. Jason could work with that.
"It was kind of an accident?"
The being blinked before looking around for the first time. "S̵̗̱̈́̒h̴͇̯̓͗ī̷͈͖͛t̷͇̓̋. I was hoping requiring the blood of a hero would mean I would only be called for emergencies, not petty villainy." The being casually reached out and sent a burst of ć̸̲̞̊̿ȍ̷͇͈̬́̚͜s̷̲̍̈́͛͝m̷̛̝̮͙̗̰o̴͓̭̣͌͐̎̄́͘͝s̴̭͌̓̐͝͠-̸̦̘͙͚̼͑͐ḵ̵̨̩̖̂̾͘i̷̢͍̱̜͇͙̥͋̚n̷̲̙̝͓̟͗̂̍̇̽ģ̸͛̔̂̐͋̄́-̶̧̫̥͈̫̰̒̎̓̐́k̵̞̹̥͒̿̇̋̊ņ̸̦͍̪͒̿̋̊͆̒̾e̶̜͊̈ẻ̵̹́̿̒̈̚l̴̨̙̳͔̝͚͒-̴͎̭̻̦̂t̴͕̜̙̫̹̣͂̒͘͝ǫ̵̝͉̋͑̈͂̀-̶̧͍̘̙͕́͜ṃ̷̖̥̘̦͐̅e̵̳̥͇̓̔̎̍̄͝ power at the cultists, who slammed to their knees and fell silent.
Jason took a moment to restart his brain. Seeing an eldritch god beyond mortal ken curse like a teenager admittedly made him want to bash his head against a wall, but he could hear Nightwing making a noise like a leaking teakettle behind him, and he refused to handle this worse than Dickface. "Maybe you should include a clause that it has to be a willing sacrifice? Or one that requires good intentions? How are you defining 'hero' anyway?" Yup. Nailed it. English pedantry for the win.
"I considered both; willing tends to get iffy if the sacrifice is under duress at all, which most would be considering the kind of situations that lead someone to summon m̴̦̭͙̮̣͆̈̉̀͛̈́e̷̬̦̤̻̬͎̓͑͂̎͐͝, and good intentions clauses are too black and white for my tastes." The creature turned back to him from where it was staring exhaustedly at the cultists. "Heroes are those who help others at the cost of themselves. How else would you define it?"
Jason took a moment to sort through that. Did that mean the creature thought he helped others? Vindication. It was almost too good to be—
"You think the Red Hood helps others? By what goddamn metric?" And there was the catch. Green Arrow was a jerk when Jason was Robin, and he'd only gotten worse over the years.
The King froze for a moment, before he seemed to g̸̩͊l̶̟̭͚̲̹͚͐͂i̷̧̳̰̺̻͇̐͗́̈̂̒ẗ̷̘̤̳̝̯̝̞́́̆c̷̡͖̩͒̾̀͌͑͑̇h̴̦̻͚͓́͜, twisting to face the Arrow. Its voice was noticeably colder as it spoke, and several heroes paled. "Why wouldn't he be? I know the name of the avenger who lives in Gotham. I didn't come on ḁ̷͉̖̀c̶̥͋͜c̶̼̩͖̿̍̑̇͊̚i̵̩͒̓͂ḑ̴̦͚͙̱̄̀͜͝e̴͚̜̟̭͂̌͘͝n̶̰͒́̉̅ť̷̗̠̝̣̪̐̒̀͒̍."
"Avenger?" Jason hadn't heard that word applied to him before. For most people, it has too many heroic implications because of the marvel comics to consider applying it to him. But if he apparently was a hero, not just a vigilante, by the standards of— he thought the being said they were from the Infinite Realms? Some kind of afterlife maybe?— if he was a hero by the standards of the Infinite Realms then…
The being's voice was frigid, and there was an underlying sound like the booming crack of a glacier. The ghost turned back to Jason again. "Six months ago you killed a rapist, freeing two of my subjects from their fear and preventing any more living from joining them. Eight months before that, a serial killer, avenging seven. Two months before that you eliminated a human trafficking group, freeing the children of another one of my subjects. She wept for three days and sang eternal blessings to your house." As he spoke the being seemed to fold in on itself, becoming more and more human until a child, barely a teenager, stood before him, a crown too big for his head sitting on his shoulders instead and large, tired eyes in his face. "A month and a half before that, you killed Jonah Stevenson, freeing two of my friends, Kitty and Johnny."
Jason sat there wide-eyed. He didn't— he didn't do what he did expecting recognition but… He asked a quiet clarifying question about the terminology the boy-king used. "You said I freed them?"
The kid shrugged. "You came back s̷̲̰̙̜̠̒͒̄c̵̢̺̱͎̪̍̄͒̓̓̕͠ȑ̴̝͋e̴̙̠̥̪̗̐̃̇̀̚ȁ̸̻̝̲̲̹͖̽̋̈́̄͜m̸̗̒́͒͌͝ǐ̵̼͚̩̫͕̌͛͆ͅn̴̗̈͑͠ͅg̷̙̈́̍́͌̾̈͊, right? That's what the rumors say. You know the value of knowing the person who hurt you can't harm you or anyone else ever again."
One of his brothers spoke up skeptically, probably as a distraction while the rest of the family tried to get free and undo the summoning. "How would killing someone prevent them from harming someone in the afterlife?"
The kid raised an eyebrow, casting a glance over at the heroes, who froze. "There isn't only one afterlife. People like that get dragged straight to judgment, or sent on to the reincarnation cycle without their memories." The being's gaze turned amused. "Don't be so afraid. I'll be going in a minute."
The ghost kid turned and beamed at Jason, the first expression he'd seen the teenager make that wasn't tired, terrifying, or vaguely assholish. "Feel free to call me up if you need something. I owe you a lot of favors for everything you've done for my people." He moved with unnatural grace through the air, slipping back through the portal just before the ritual seemingly lost power, leaving behind a dozen cultists that had fallen unconscious at some point and a group of heroes that were remarkably drained for having barely done anything.
Jason slumped to the ground even as his fingers unraveled the last of his restraints. That was… something. Something good, he thought; it mattered to have someone tell him they appreciated what he was doing as much as most people didn't. He felt like he needed to catch his breath after all the emotions he'd gone through. He definitely needed to pull his energy back up considering he was going to have to spend the next few hours doing his favorite thing: dealing with his family.
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