#those are the years that build the adults we become | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixkaptain · 1 year

Text

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

#luke skywalker #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #original trilogy #the inane ramblings of a madman #listen i recognize that other people are important in the plot of sw #but at the same time #luke is the marble that gets things rolling #just in general #luke is the reason obi wan eventually actually kills maul #luke somehow gave yoda hope that another generation of jedi was an achievable goal #luke saved leia from being executed #luke is the sun of the series #it’s from him that literally everything grows #the story that began this universe #is one of a boy becoming an adult #and so without luke skywalker #none of the characters would exist #thus luke is the sun and we should all bask in the rays #but also in how funny it is #that this guy was more of a pain than obi wan kenobi #a feat previously thought impossible #long post

10K notes · View notes

cosmicanakin · 26 days

Text

picking up the pieces.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. dean winchester x female reader.

outline. a heated argument with dean leads to a vulnerable confession of your long-held feelings.

word count. 1546.

warning(s). angst, arguments, implied sexual tension, mild language, season 1 dean, mature themes (nothing too explicit).

authors note. back with a new fic whaaaat?! i recently started rewatching supernatural to mend my broken heart after the season 15 finale… they deserved so much better & just thinking about it pisses me tf off. anyway i was listening to stairway to heaven for hours on end while writing this (that song is my childhood.) enjoooooy!

You stared out the window of the Impala, watching the roads and scenery fly by as Led Zeppelin played softly in the background. The familiar rumble of the engine and the comfort of the leather seats usually provided a sense of peace, but today all you could feel was tension.

You and Dean had gotten into a nasty argument earlier, one that had been brewing for a while now. It was about his careless flirtation with other women, even when you two weren’t officially exclusive. You couldn’t help the feelings you had harbored for him over the years, feelings that only seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together on the road. And it hurt to see him so freely give his attention and affection to anyone but you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the music and the drive. But it was impossible to ignore the way Dean kept stealing glances in your direction, the way his hand would occasionally graze your thigh in a move that had become comfortable and familiar between the two of you. Each subtle touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have.

As the familiar chords of the song played on, you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, to escape this tense situation, even if just for a little while. But just as you felt yourself starting to drift off, Dean’s hand suddenly landed firmly on your inner thigh, sending your eyes flying open as your heart raced.

Without a word, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before turning to face you. The intensity in his green eyes made your breath catch in your throat, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You swallowed hard, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to avoid this conversation at all costs. But you knew it was inevitable, that the tension between the two of you had been building for too long to ignore any longer.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean studied you for a moment, his gaze searching your face for something you couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.

“Look, I know things have been...tense between us lately,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I know a lot of that is my fault.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt, to argue that it was his fault, that his reckless flirting had hurt you more than you cared to admit. But he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Please, just let me say this,” he pleaded. “I’m not good at this whole...feelings thing. You know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened earlier, and I...” He paused, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear. It’s just...old habits die hard, you know? And I...” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were fidgeting nervously in his lap. “I guess I was...afraid.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession, and you couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, your curiosity piqued.

“Afraid of what, Dean?” you asked softly.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Afraid of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Afraid of...of letting myself feel something real, something that could actually last.”

Your heart ached at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting you deeper than any of his careless flirtations ever could. You knew, deep down, that Dean had been through more than his fair share of pain and loss in his life, and the thought of him being afraid to open himself up to you only made you love him more.

“Dean...” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I...I had no idea.”

He looked up then, his green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the raw emotion you saw there. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s my fault. I...I’ve been pushing you away, because I’m scared of what this could be. Of what we could be.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, hope and fear warring within you. “What are you saying, Dean?”you asked, fiddling with your thumbs.

He reached out then, his calloused hand coming to rest on your thigh again, his thumb brushing against it in a gentle caress. “I’m saying that...I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes flooding with tears as the weight of his words settled over you. “Dean, I...I care about you, too. So much,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he reached up to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “Because you’re afraid of losing me, too,” you said softly.

He nodded, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve already lost so much in my life, Y/N. I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hand on your skin. “You won't lose me, Dean,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He studied your face for a long moment, his green eyes boring into yours, before slowly leaning in. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a passionate kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. “I love you, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible but you heard him clear as day.

“I love you, too, Dean,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair.

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, lost in each other’s embrace, the tension and pain of earlier melting away. But then, a thought occurred to you, and you pulled back slightly, your brow furrowing.

“What about Sam?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern. “I mean, we’re on our way to pick him up from Stanford, and I don’t want him to feel...I don’t know, awkward or anything.”

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Don’t worry about Sammy,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He’s been rooting for us to get our heads out of our asses for years.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease. “I should have known,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

Dean grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless again, your hearts racing.

“So, what does this mean for us?” you asked, your voice soft and uncertain.

Dean's expression turned serious, his hand moving to intertwine with yours. “It means that I’m all in, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No more flirting with other women, no more pushing you away. I want this, us, more than anything.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion, tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Me too, Dean,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m in, too.”

He smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that lit up his entire face, and you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him again, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

As you pulled apart, Dean’s expression turned mischievous once more. “So, what do you say we give Sammy another day and find us a nice, secluded spot to...celebrate?" he asked wiggling his brows, a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you were hearing, playfully swatting his arm. “Dean Winchester, you are such a hornball,” you teased.

He grinned, his grip on your hand tightening. “Maybe so, but you love me anyway,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made your heart flutter.

“That I do,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him once more.

As the Impala rumbled back to life and Dean guided the car back onto the open road, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. The tension and hurt of earlier had been replaced by a deep, abiding love and trust, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Dean would face them together.

You nestled closer to Dean as he drove, your hand still intertwined with his, and Stairway to Heaven filling the air, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of pure, unadulterated happiness.

494 notes · View notes

trans-axolotl · 8 days

Text

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult.#i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

256 notes · View notes

noxturnalpascal · 4 months

Text

Devotion 🖤 Masterlist

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

I. Stronger Together CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

II. Predator or Prey? CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

III. Path to the Future CH 9 CH 10 CH 11

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, canon-typical violence/death, death of clickers, guns, blood/injury, references to previous SAs (not described), Reader has low self worth & trauma, this group/cult is not feminist - women aren’t treated as equals, Joel has sexual relationships with other characters (not described in detail), possessiveness, manipulation, stalking/spying on, Joel gets mean, DubCon Oral, Joel gets abusive (verbally, mentally, physically (he hits, throws, and bites), thoughts of self-harm and suicide, talk of periods & pregnancy, unprotected PiV, oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, DIRTY TALK, brief reference to breeding kink and creampie kink (but reader does NOT get pregnant in this story).

A/N: OBVIOUSLY this is canon-divergent, but it is post-outbreak. The events of outbreak day have not changed (sorry Sarah). Reader does have a developed background that plays heavily in her character arc, so in that sense she is very much an OC. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions.

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

*🖤*NOTES ABOUT THE CULT & JOEL BELOW*🖤*

ABOUT THE CULT

The Cult's Core Ideology

Build up a community (and supplies) to return to a thriving society that can keep people safe & find a cure.

The Cult Operates by its 3 Tenants:

How Joel does it (what he "preaches")

I. Build Trust (We are Stronger Together)

Makes people feel beautiful, important, HEARD

Shares the wealth (food, shelter, women)

Seeks Power & Control to get others to help him

II. Us vs Them (The Predator Vs The Prey)

FEDRA is the enemy, do not trust them

Assimilate or Destroy all other people/groups

Attack them before they attack you

III. Gather & Prepare (Create a Path to the Future)

You can never have enough, always take take take take

The community you create now will determine future society (fair, honest, hardworking)

Once you are well-prepared and rebuild, you can work on finding a cure

🖤

Notes about Joel and the Cult:

He and Tess began this community together in 2010 after they met Bill and Frank and they felt that the QZ was becoming too dangerous and unstable. They settled in a small, remote town in the mountains of Vermont. Tess helps him "run" the community but she has a submissive role. (Their dynamic here is different from canon.) Tess has his respect probably more than anyone else does but she is not looked upon like an equal by anyone in the community.

Timeline/Ages:

This takes place in the fall of 2012, so It’s been 9 years since outbreak day. Joel is 45, my HC for Reader is Early 30's (Tess is 39/40). Reader's exact age isn't given, but she was in her early 20's on outbreak day and I wanted her to have experienced a fair taste of an adult life before the world ended. I didn't want to write the reader as inexperienced or with too large of an age-gap, although I think 11-14 years is still pretty significant. She has a history that plays a significant role in her personality (wary, untrusting). She has been hurt/abused by men - both those that took advantage of her when she was young, as well as by those that she trusted/loved. There are very few physical descriptions but she is very much an OC. Note that her age is not something that's explicitly mentioned because I did want to keep it inclusive. I hope everyone who wants to read this can use their imagination to fit themselves into the story in a meaningful way.🖤

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

336 notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 1 year

Note

Mr. Gaiman, I was wondering something. I would never accuse Sir Terry Pratchett of even unintentional plagiarism, perhaps down more to my perception of the man than anything concrete, but I was trying to figure out if there was perhaps a common source that may have inspired two works.

There was an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine that bore some very generalized similarities to the plot of Night Watch, in that a man is thrown back in time to a few days before an extremely important historical riot and ends up replacing one of the key figures in said riot, who died ignominiously beforehand. I have not finished the novel but some people who heard me point out the general similarities have remarked that there are further parallels. Perhaps there are, perhaps there aren't.

I was wondering whether you knew anything about the writing of Night Watch that might shed some light on this. Its publication postdates the premier of the episode by a few years but obviously I have no idea whether its composition did.

I don't have any reason to believe that you would know, other than having known Sir Terry, but I thought I'd ask. Best wishes!

Terry and I used to talk about what he was watching on TV all the time. If you'd found a relationship between an episode of Red Dwarf and a Terry book, I think that we could conclude that Terry had borrowed the idea. I don't ever remember him talking about any Star Treks other than the original series. But that doesn't mean anything. It's quite possible that Terry caught that DS9 episode or part of it and went "But they've missed the point! That's not the interesting bit!" and went off to write his own version. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time that Terry took his irritation with a piece of popular fiction and used it as the grain of sand in the oyster to build a pearl around.

Remember, though, Person Goes Back In Time and Finds That They Are Mistaken For Someone They Think Is Important is very much a standard trope in SF. I think the first time I encountered it was Michael Moorcock's Behold the Man. What's important about Night Watch is that Vimes is becoming the person who inspired Vimes, and that we get to see how the events of the Glorious 25th of May shaped the people we have known as adult, finished versions of themselves into those people.

As a general rule though, it's wisest to read the whole book before diving off after questions about the plot, otherwise you might look a bit silly if the book goes somewhere else.

2K notes · View notes

thethirdtriplet · 6 months

Text

Title: Mentor Tim

So we all know how similar Tim is to Bruce, I feel like as Tim gets older he promises himself not to become like him, in regards to his closed off-ness and anti-social behavior, gets therapy (boy was that something else), matures as a person and learns to take care of himself properly (not everyone has an Alfred lying around y’know).

So older Tim, who does not want to be Batman (who does at this point?), and considers Red Tornado (Aka; the only adult who really cared) his idol, makes an intellectual decision.

To mentor 10+ young vigilantes, that are basically neglected or ignored by their mentors, that he met once on a mission, apparently they’re the new Young Justice members (why do all the unwanted ones end up there, seriously, has everyone learned nothing??).

It’s not that he planned to mentor the young superheroes, but he couldn’t really ignore them when they took to him like little ducklings to water all because he was nice to them.

The were very undertrained and uncoordinated, and in desperate need of guidance, and Tim who has caused or been apart of some of the craziest shit known to man has a lot of knowledge to spare:

Tim: Leo, for the love of god. Put. That. Down. Number one rule of dealing with magical artifacts or magic in general is don’t touch it and run, don’t walk away if it starts to glow.

—————————

Tim: Keith, seriously dude, if you need any new equipment, swords, knives, anything at all, just tell me. Y’know what I can set it up with one phone call, hold on.

—————————

Tim: Peter, if that jerk at school talks to you like that again I give you my permission to beat his ass, I don’t care what your school or “mentor” have to say, they clearly know nothing about teenagers.

—————————

Tim: Of course you can skip training next week for your recital Sofia, and actually, I cancelled training for everyone when they told me they all wanted to go to support you, thanks for inviting me by the way, I can’t wait.

—————————

Tim: Oh, you’ve had an argument with your parent, Nick? Hold on just a sec.

Tim: Yeah, I just freed my schedule so we could have the whole day to ourselves, I remember those movies you told me you wanted to marathon, let’s go watch them in the big screen room, bundle ourselves in the softest blankets and eat a sh- heck ton of ice cream, while we talk about it, if you feel like it, of course.

—————————

Tim: I noticed how much extensive energy you have even after a full training session, Mateo, so I thought you and I could stay and spar, even after everyone’s done. I’ve brought new training equipment for you to try and researched a few new techniques that correlate with your abilities.

—————————

Tim: Don’t worry about not being able to speak, Amara, I know plenty of sign, in many languages, in fact.

—————————

Tim: *on a phone call*

Tim: What do you mean you’re in a burning building?

Tim: What do you mean you set it on fire?!

Tim: Send me your location, Amber, I’ll be there in ten, no- five.

—————————

And that’s how the hero community noticed how the newly proclaimed Young Justice mentor Red Robin nowadays often had one, if not all, of his ducklings kids students standing proudly next to him.

Bonus:

Tim: Red, I am so sorry for all the years you had to put up with my bullshit.

Tim: I’m basically the only adult- no, person, who cares about them!

Tim: I don’t know how they’ve been alive for so long!

Red Tornado: You are forgiven, Tim, although I must admit, it is quite satisfying that you know of my pain.

Tim, with haunted eyes: You have no idea.

Part 2??

#tim drake #mentor #mentoring #mentorship #idk how to tag this #Tim is a mentor

279 notes · View notes

melloween-candie · 9 months

Text

A Real Nightmare [P.P]

Prompts: Yandere/Monster 5 & 17

Requested // Request Rules // Prompt list

"Can you do something with Yandere Peter Pan (ouat of course ) with the prompts 5 and 17. Maybe with a fem or gn reader. And if you can make reader more into the sweet part would be amazing. Love how you write 💕💕💕💕💕✨✨✨✨✨💕💕💕💕💕"

Replied

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prompt: Yandere/Monster

5: "This is your home now." 17: "You'll either sleep with me, or you don't sleep at all!"

Warning! Animal abuse, manipulation, threatening, bloodthirsty

Word Count: 1,683

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Narrator's Pov***

"Come out, Y/n... You can't stay in there forever~" Peter pressed his head against the door. "Come on!..." He took a split second to calm his voice down. "Look Y/n... I'm trying here. That means you should, too!"

It has been years since you last stepped foot outside of Neverland.

"BUT IT'S JUST A BABY!" You cried out.

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's just target practice." He said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He never understood why your heart would leak every time you two practiced. "What's the difference?"

Your heart yelped out of your chest. "Maybe it's the fact that it's still young!"

It's true... You were a softy. You were always a softy. No matter how many times Peter tried killing that out of you- he always failed. Even when you stood back... watching all those critters die was just too much, and you just couldn't take it anymore.

"They're all young! I swear to you- If. You. Don't-" Felix grabbed Peter's shoulder, giving him the 'calm-down' look.

Peter stepped back with a huff and a growl. He really does try for you... He did everything... Murdered, Kidnapped, Tortured, and now he's trying the 'good guy' way. After all, the good guy wins every time, right?

Now when I say kidnap- I mean he kidnaps those who were close to you. Either using them as blackmail or something else. However, Peter never felt the need to hide you from anyone. He didn't see the point in doing so since he never felt inferior to anyone here on his island. Of course, there were boundaries... boundaries that people should never cross. Luckily Peter trusted Felix.

Felix asked you to open the door, and knowing him quite well, you did.

You always trusted Felix more than you did Pan. That irritated Peter, but he wanted you to love him the way he loves you. And he was told that the only way to earn your love was to build it- through healthy bonding moments...

Felix walked into the room, closing the door behind him, pissing Peter off. "Y/n, you really need to stop doing this." He kneeled down towards you. You were cradling an injured bunny.

"I can't... I can't k-eep doing this." You hiccupped. Tears continued falling down your face as Felix spoke- "Look, Y/n, they're going to die no matter what. No animal can survive long enough to become an adult here in Neverland. You should know that by now."

"Then why don't we stop! Let them grow-"

"Y/n, please. I know you care- but Peter is this close to losing his patience with you!" He squeezed his fingers together tightly. "Seriously, Y/n... You wouldn't want to go back to the way things were before, do you?"

In truth, the only reason why Peter changed to begin with was because of Henry's heart... or at least that's what you and everyone else thinks.

"B-but look at it!" You moved your arms a bit to show him the state of the bunny. It was somewhat small, and its white fur was now matted with dried blood. It wasn't moving...

"Y/n," Felix placed his hand on your forearm. "It's dead."

That broke your heart... You knew it, but you didn't want to believe it.

"I don't want to live here... not like this." You muttered. Your eyes showed nothing but emptiness now as your arms went limp.

You always thought that Neverland was a dream come true. That it was a heavenly place filled with kind creatures. Sadly, you were utterly wrong. The prince you thought Peter was- was actually a demon in disguise.

"This is your home now- Learn to adjust to it." He spat plainly. Then he got up and left.

"Finally!" Peter spat. Felix only looked at him. There was a redness in Peter's eyes. Felix knew that whatever Henry's heart left in him was slowly fading away.

Time Skip!~

It was the middle of the night. You were in bed with Peter as you always were. You mainly slept with him in fear that he might hurt the people you love if you didn't oblige to his demands.

However, that night you couldn't sleep a wink. You were too caught up thinking about all the animals that died in this 'supposed sanctuary.'

But it wasn't just that... Even though Peter became more lenient, he never actually changed. Sure, he wasn't torturing you or murdering other lost boys for touching you... but he still hasn't changed his ways when it comes to running Neverland.

He'd kill any animal he saw move with the excuse of 'target practice.' And if you were to push it further, he'd threaten you by saying- "Would you rather it be a human?!"

Now, you were a kind soul... You always believed in second chances. You believed that Peter would change for the better someday, and somehow, it would happen. Though, you couldn't help but wonder if that was just wishful thinking.

Then suddenly you heard a noise. Something was rustling outside Pan's tent. Then- it knocked. It was a quiet and subtle knock. As if it knew not to wake Peter up.

You slowly crept your way to the door. You slightly opened it as quietly as possible. You didn't want Peter to wake up and see you out of bed.

You took a peek outside to see what it was... Nothing- until you looked down. It was a lost boy. His name was Teddy. (Made up - Not canon)

His eyes were watery. Clearly, he just finished crying. "Please Y/n... I can't sleep." He whispered.

Now, Teddy was only three. So, you understood why he came to you. Most of the younger kids would come to you about these kinds of things. Not only was it that you were the only female there, but you acted so much like a mother that they actually thought you were their real mom. It was silly but you didn't mind.

"What's wrong, Teddy?" You said in a whisper, kneeling down so you could speak to him eye to eye.

"I-I had-" He took a breath, rubbing his eye as he continued on- "A nightmare."

"Ow... Poor thing." You placed your palm on his head and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry to hear that, kiddo..." You didn't really know what to do... If you let him sleep with you in Peter's bed, Peter would get so angry to find another person with you... It didn't matter if that person was three. But if you left to sleep with this child... that would just be worse- "Pleaseeee!" A plea broke your train of thought.

You looked down to see the little boy begging you. "Please. Please sleep with me... I-I don't want to be alone..." If any older kid said that... it would have just been wrong to you, but this- this was sadly cute. After all, he did give you the puppy eyes and everything. So, you couldn't say no.

You were always bad at saying no... especially when the little ones gave you the 'look.'

Small Time Skip!~

You made it in the little boy's tent without waking anyone up. It was kind of a surprise to you to see how much of a deep sleeper Pan was. But when you finally got into bed with the toddler, a shadow invaded the room. It startled you and the sleepy boy right next to you.

You quickly sat back up as the little boy rubbed his eyes. You squinted yours- "P-Pan!?" You said in realization. Your heart started racing... By the look on Pan's face- you knew this wasn't going to be good.

"Look. Before you get made- I can explain." You tried to calm him down, but the red tint in his eyes only seemed to glow brighter.

"Explain what exactly? Explain the fact that this kid is too scared to sleep by himself?" He spat. "I saw everything, Y/n- I heard you."

You gulped. You knew Peter was about to throw yet another fit. "L-look, I'm sorry, but since you heard everything- you understand. Don't you?" You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "He's only three..."

"The only thing I'm questioning is why... why are you choosing to sleep with a brat when you can sleep with me?" He muttered. He looked at you dead in the eyes.

"He had a nightmare!" You said it as if it was plain obvious.

"Nightmares... Reality is scarier than nightmares." Peter moved closer towards you two. "You know why? Because it's real." He said that all without even blinking.

He then looked at you- "So. What will it be, Y/n? A nightmare or reality?" He said it in a threatening way... but what made your heart beat faster was his tone. He was so calm, and his focus was set dead on you.

"W-what?" You stuttered. It was clear that you were now completely uncomfortable. It was because of how calm he was acting... it wasn't normal.

He then looked down, breaking eye contact with you. He took a moment of silence. Then he slowly looked back up, but not at you this time... this time, he looked at the little kid who was clearly frightened.

Then he looked at you. "You'll either sleep with me, or you don't sleep at all."

Your eyes grew with fear. Tons of shivers just went through your body as you looked at Pan in the eyes.

Those red eyes now meeting yours. His eyes were now fully shining a deep red hue. It wasn't shining like it was noticeable... it was subtle, but it was clear that it was taking over him. It shined like the glow of a heart... but it had that aura to it... the kind most people would avoid. The kind that you can only describe as bloodthirst.

Peter then finally spoke. "The only thing that boy should be afraid of is getting in-between you and me."

#once upon a time #ouat peter pan #once upon a time peter pan #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #fear #thriller #once upon a time fandom #once upon a time fanfiction #yandere peter pan #nightmares #kind reader #prompt list

332 notes · View notes

dreamchasernina · 2 months

Text

Am I the only one worried about adult gaang movie? I know Bryke are the ones working on it, but honestly…I don’t have much faith in them.

Look, Avatar is like this sacred prefect thing to me, and I cannot handle a thought of something ruining this perfect story and characters. It ended so perfectly, but to be able to write another story with these characters they’re gonna have to create problems, right?

Like for instance, how are they going to create a villain that will be an actual threat to Aang (especially Aang in the avatar state), without breaking the rules of the world they built? They broke those rules over and over again in Korra to one up a previous villain.

Another conern is, are they going to ruin the relationships? Writers don’t like seeing the characters in happy relationships, case and point, Korra and Mako. I don’t really care about them, I just found it wierd spending the whole first season building up their relationship just to break them up in the second season. It’s a problem with a lot of writers, they’d rather break a couple up and get them back together again by the end, than let them be in a happy and healthy relationships. Same said for the friendships. I’m scared to discover the movie starts with “I haven’t talked to Zuko in years because A B C happened”.

Another thing, is there going to be an arc for every single character? If so, how are they going to accomplish that in 2 hours? I love love love how every single character in ATLA gets an amazing personal arc, and well, if they’re going to to the same in the movie, how will that work? Or will some of the characters get a backseat and become not as significant. Again, I have to bring up an example from LoK. You can’t say Mako and Bolin’s parts in the last seasons were as important as the rest of the characters’. Again, I personally don’t care about those characters, so I don’t have a problem with it, but the balance between the characters in ATLA is what makes it superior to LoK, so I’m sure if they decide to make Sokka’s (for example) journey less significant than others’, it would make a lot of people angry.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts. Of course I want to see more content from the Avatar universe, especially the gaang, but I’m just scarred from LoK and not sure I can handle them ruining characters even more.

Can we just have 2 hours of the gaang on vacation on ember island just getting in all kinds of shenanigans?

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #avatar: the last airbender #the last airbender #atla #aang #sokka #zuko #katara #Bryke #toph #anti LoK #the legend of korra #kataang #maiko #sukka #team avatar

134 notes · View notes

ivyblossom · 2 months

Text

That thing where I feel like I'm going to have to write fanfiction again

This is a weird one. I just want to say it somewhere, so that I've said it somewhere, but I realize there's there's one person who actually cares about this and she already knows, so. This is just for me, I guess.

Fifteen years ago, I wrote most of a Narnia fic. It pairs of Edmund Pevensie and Bacchus, aka Dionysus, the ancient Greek god of grapes, wine and uninhibited ecstasy. Also theatre. I know, that's a bit weird. Is Bacchus even in the Narnia stories? (Yes, he is. He even has lines!) Why on earth am I pairing him up with Edmund, who is 10 when we first meet him?

It's all the weird memory tricks, I'm a sucker for those. The Pevensies forget about England because they stay so long in Narnia and stop thinking about England, and they can (and do) forget about Narnia if they stay in England too long and don't think about Narnia enough (poor Susan), and I find that really interesting. It offers up so many nooks and crannies to stick story in. They grow up and become adults in Narnia, but are required to forget most of it in order to return to build children in England.

And come on: is Bacchus not also very obviously the god of Narnian orgies? I mean, yes. Clearly. He's also Aslan's default caterer and water-into-wine head tech. If you need buildings destroyed and bullies turned into trees and/or pigs, Bacchus is your guy. He's not big on wearing clothes, and according to Edmund, he's incredibly beautiful and extremely dangerous. Edmund is only 10 when we first meet him, sure, but he grows up, reverse ages, and then starts to grow up again. Bacchus throws them a G-rated orgy in Prince Caspian. There's love there.

Hasn't Edmund suffered enough? Yes, he got addicted to the Turkish Delight that time, but he'd been struggling and was being bullied, he was carrying a lot of self-hatred and shame, give a kid a break. He did get himself heroically killed putting it right, only to be healed physically and psychologically by Santa Claus's magic healing cordial, as one does. Doesn't Edmund deserve a cute immortal boyfriend with quirky friends and a serious green thumb who grows his own grapes, makes his own wine, can manipulate and control the desires of everyone around him like conducting an orchestra, and who will love him until the end of time? There aren't many humans in Narnia, why not hook up with the god of uninhibited ecstasy? I mean, he's right there.

Anyway. It was fifteen years ago.

I wrote 3/4ths of it, I had one part left to go to finish it, I had an idea about what how it would end, but for some reason I never wrote the ending. I don't remember why. So it's been sitting there unfinished since 2009.

And in the last few weeks I started thinking about it again. I had an idea about that ending. I couldn't remember if this idea I was toying with was my original concluding idea or not, it's been that long, but I liked the idea, and I thought, you know, I should write that idea in as the last part and finally finish that thing.

And then I read what I'd written. And a) 15 years is a long time and I have so many criticisms, I was clearly in love with the sound of my own voice (uh...nothing's changed there I guess?), b) I wrote the thing in such a way to exclude my new idea, so apparently that wasn't my original plan, but c) yeah, I should have written this thing properly the first time around. And now I have 104 more ideas and I love them all, so.

I think I have to rewrite it. Or, I suppose, just write another one and replace it? I dunno. Just playing it out now.

I think I'm going to write it. Is this an active fandom? I don't think so. I don't care. This love story needs to be told. Edmund deserves this.

#fanfiction #narnia #Edmund/Bacchus #it's never too late right?

117 notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 1 year

Note

you should totally write another enemies to lovers w ethan but like fem!reader and him get paired into a project we’re they have to take care of an egg together as if it were a baby? (like those cheesy movies LMFAO) and maybe they constantly argue about it and even try to convince their teacher to get paired into different groups but they’re forced to work together. then one night, reader has been taking care of the egg all day, she decides to go to ethan’s apartment but as soon as she leaves her apartment building she gets a call from ethan!gf (to mess w her) and at that point she’s just running to ethan’s apartment and yeah you can do the rest.

description. you're paired with ethan landry for a silly, 2000s-esque 'baby project', forced to reckon with the troubles of parenthood, and your inconsiderate feelings towards the brown haired boy.

includes. GN!reader, allusions to sex but no smut, reader curses a lot, chad's here :D

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: im so sorry it took me so long to write this but its here now :) also i changed this a bit just bc here we have the fake babies that cry and stuff and it adds drama yk and this was not supposed to be this long but enjoy nonetheless (also x2 this isn't proofread at all and it's written like an extended blurb)

anytime you said your life "was a movie" you were never serious. which is because before ending up in this class, life for you was nothing but usual teenage and young adult endeavors; parties, hanging out, spending entirely too much money.

but now, your life literally is a movie. an early 2000s movie that the production shouldn't have greenlit because it desperately flopped in the theatres and digital release, only to become a cult classic 20 years later.

however, you're stuck in that flopping at box office point, coming in the form of being assigned a project where you had to take care of an egg, then a fake baby, in a class you shouldn't have been in in the first place, and being paired with ethan landry out of all people.

you don't have anything against ethan per se, but you don't like him either. on a scale of dislike, neutral, and like, you're in the lower end of neutral with your feelings towards ethan.

he wasn't a horrible guy, but he just reminded you of the guys back home. the ones that were always unnecessarily rude and help "opinions" that were really just hate speech waiting to be turned into hate crimes. and sure, he hadn't done anything in particular to be compared to those people, but you're better off being safe than sorry.

you're sitting across from him now, a brown egg sitting between you two, and your eyes switching from glaring at the egg to glaring at ethan.

"so ... how do you wanna do the schedule?" ethan asks, fiddling with the sticker on his smoothie cup.

your glare intensifies and you sit back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. "i want you to know that i don't wanna do this with you."

ethan looks slightly shocked by your blunt statement, which infuriates you more. and then he says, "...okay?" like he doesn't care. asshole.

you decide to be the bigger person, taking a deep breath before you continue speaking. "okay."

it's silent for a few moments. "now that we have that cleared up, how do you wanna do the schedule?"

you and ethan decide on who should take care of the egg-baby for the first week, until you upgrade to a fake baby. that night when you go home, you send an email that is a mix between begging and demanding your professor to switch your partner.

the week was fine. it could've been better if your professor switched your partner, and if you didn't have to communicate with ethan landry more than you would have ever wanted to. but apparently, people can't always get what they want.

by the first class the following week, 3 groups have broken their egg and failed the first half of the assignment. you sit and listen to your professor lecture each and every one of you about the importance of good child care, and how taking care of the egg was the easy part. as she hands out doll babies in a carrier, and understand how lifelike the not-toy is, you start to realize just how much harder this is going to be.

"who would've known blackmore had this sort of money." chad marvels at the doll in the stroller. he has his hands on his bent knees, his brown eyes shifting to notice every detail about the doll in the stroller.

"it fucking knows how much time each of us spends with it, chad," you complain through a mouthful of burrito bowl contents. you have a little time alone since ethan had class, so you took the time to take yourself, and amelia/janice (you and ethan couldn't agree on a name) to the dining hall for lunch with chad.

"just spend time with ethan. i do it everyday."

your eyes roll so hard that you have to pause and hold a hand to your head. "easier said than done."

chad laughs a bit, sitting down in the seat across from you once again and starting to dig into his own burrito bowl.

"what's your problem with him anyway?"

"oh don't even get me started–" but he did get you started. you detail all of the things that deems ethan to be insufferable in your eyes. his abercrombie model body, his nerdy persona, his "well actually" moments, his need to correct everyone, the way he seems like he actually hates tara and sam, his not-so-subtle superiority complex. chad stops you whenever you start to mention his hair.

"just sounds to me like you're hiding your true feelings behind anger."

you don't have a response, instead opting to check your email to see your professor sending a third denial to switch partners.

you're thinking of a way you can convince her whenever ethan texts you.

'my shift? '

"gotta go," you tell chad, sliding him your tray to dispose of with a grin, feeding him an excuse about being a "busy parent now" whenever he tries to argue.

okay, truth be told, ethan landry wasn't that bad. he offered to take up shifts whenever you even alluded to being stressed about other things, he offered to buy you meals in return for watching amelia/janice for an extra half hour. he seemed like he both cared about passing this project, and you.

"just so you know, i also tried to switch partners," ethan admits with just a hint of shame in his voice, and a light pink tint to his cheeks. but you don't know if that's from his confession or the alcohol in his system.

it's the end to another grueling week taking care of amelia (ethan let janice go) and you decided to celebrate by opening a bottle of wine. you were feeling oddly good that whole week, so whenever ethan came over to drop amelia off, you invited him in for a drink.

which turned into two. which turned into a late night kitchen makeout session.

the alcohol was obviously hindering your thinking abilities because not only were you pressing ethan landry back against your counter with your body and letting his hands roam all over your figure while he kissed you, you also pulled back and stared at him wildly to ask, "wait, amelia's down for the night right?"

ethan smiles big, playing along, "yeah, she's down for the night".

his hands find the end of your shirt and the slide underneath to feel the warmth of your skin. your room was occupied by your daughter, but your roommates were out for the night and the couch was available.

you let ethan lead you there and decide that yeah, ethan landry isn't that bad.

this, is the climactic point in the film. it's so cliché that you can predict the next moments, and you don't like them.

you were walking from your apartment to ethan's, preparing to drop amelia off for ethan to take care of now that he was out of econ. you've done this same walk safely many times before, so you weren't worried about yourself at all. you had your headphones on, playing music at a low volume just in case, and there were only a few minutes left in your walk. when your phone rang, you didn't think much of it. you answered it without checking your phone, a chirpy "hello?" being your greeting.

the voice on the other hand was unrecognizable. "hello." he said it like a statement, not a question, as if he had an upper hand.

"who is this?"

"i'm ... an admirer."

a chill runs through your body and you quicken your pace. "okay? what's your name?" you're looking around, searching for people on the street to witness something just in case. but there's only 2 to 3 people walking at this late hour. what are the fucking odds.

"i go by many names. some people call me the boogey man, others their worst nightmare." he speaks slowly, methodically, with a smooth tone, a direct contrast from the fast shakiness in your voice.

"oh, yeah? why do they call you that?"

"because ... i'm known for gutting people like a fish."

you don't say anything, going to reach for your phone and hangup instead. which, you do. you hand shakes as you go to call ethan instead, but before you can click on his contact you're getting a call from him.

"ethan? thank god, i was just about to call you. some fucking weirdo called me and he was freaking me the fuck out but i'm almost at your pla–"

"you think i'm a weirdo?" the same voice.

you glance down at ethan's contact, blinking, making sure you didn't read it wrong. but it's right.

"... ethan?" you ask softly, your heart thudding intensely behind your chest.

"yes?"

"is that you?"

"uh-huh."

fucking asshole.

"you fucking asshole." the entrance to ethan's apartment building is in sight now, as is the boy himself, standing in front of the building with his phone held in one hand, and a white object in the other. the closer you get, the bigger his smile gets, and the narrower your glare gets.

you stop in front of him, shoving the stroller into his foot and pushing at his chest for good measure. "you fucking asshole!" you repeat, as if he hadn't heard you the first time.

ethan laughs, he cackles, like he just told the best joke in history. the dial tone of ethan ending the call is barely heard over the blood rushing in your ears.

"c'mon, babe," ethan tilts his head as he pockets his phone and the white object. his hands reach for you, and you flinch away the first time, but the second time you let him rest his hands on your waist and pull you into him. he places a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"i fucking hate you." there's no bite behind your bark.

"yet you decided to have a baby with me."

stupid fucking assignment.

#ethansworld!#ethan landry x reader #ethan scream 6 #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #scream 6 #celeste writes scrream #celeste writes scream

730 notes · View notes

deardarlingthings · 1 year

Text

I needed to make a post off of this one because... it just explains so much more. This hits so many new tones now- this show is known for their layers and callbacks and now going back to that moment even though it was wrong, he made Keeley practically bid for him as a trauma response. He had another lady he knew bid on him, almost guarantied as a safety net. This man has never known a lick of peace as a child. As a teen. Hell, his father took him to the redlight district to become a man at fourteen years old. A night that Jamie even now, comes to barely remember most likely because he blocked it out. Hell, if he was in the district, god knows if his father was making him do to forget or to be more of a man. a child being forced to lose his virginity to an adult because a parent said that was what you needed to be a man. From a man who abused him constantly. Verbally. Physically. Mentally. Every form imaginable up to present day. Topping that- his mother wasn't exactly in the picture- did she know how bad he was and left him with his father? His mother never fought for him. He has been alone. Building those walls to be like his dad because no one ever messed with him. Jamie Tartt as far as we know, up until AFC Richmond, has not known a father figure, a friend, no support system, no healthy relationships. The one person he found solace in as a kid, the man who he had a poster of on his wall, and someone who coached him one on one for several months while knowing he was being used as an emotional punching bag {and dealt with because in a sense, trauma response, used to it}, feels safe enough to tell him this. Feels free enough around him. Jamie found sanctuary in the one man who he idolized for years. and you bet your ass Roy Kent will protect his loved ones and family. Jamie has found a family in Richmond, and has found that and more in Roy fuckin' Kent.

#Ted Lasso #Jamie Tartt #Roy Kent #Ted Lasso Spoilers #ted lasso amsterdam #ted lasso sunflowers #jamie tartt the love of my life #childhood trauma #im not an apologist at this point #anti-james tartt #not to make this a jamieroy post but #indirectly #jamie x roy #roy x jamie #jamieroy #royjamie

721 notes · View notes

chaisshitposts · 7 months

Text

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𖤐 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐀 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

glad to meetcha. my name's chai and I'm just your friendly, yet angry, neighborhood homie. my pronouns are it/that, I am an experience. I'm forever 23 until I decide it's my time to age up. I've been manifestin' my whole life, but have consciously been manifestin' for a good few years now, and only recently have i decided to get serious about it and live life in creative mode as intended. i am a law of assumption fiend and stand by that. also, i'm a major nerd when it comes to anime, cartoons, and anything animated in general. no, i promise i'm not a disney adult.

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𖤐 𝐘𝐀 𝐃𖤐 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

i make shit posts, post about ways to interact with yourself on a subconscious level, post about my own personal void journey, and sometimes like to rant. i am not a strictly void based blog. before anyone sends me asks about what they can and cannot manifest— imma answer ya right now, the answer is yes ya can have whatever ya want, even the unbelievable shit like magical powers and monster sps (don't judge me). if ya can think about it, then ya can literally have it. there's no limitations, for real.

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𖤐𝐈𝐍' 𖤐𝐍 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

currently, I've been on a new void journey using psych-k consistently, as well as using psych-k to change my own limitin' beliefs about myself and my perceived limitations that should have never existed in the first place but were put in place by society and those around me. i want nothin' more than to help others become the best they can be. however, i am exceedingly blunt and can be mean on accident or on purpose, sugarcoatin' shit is just not my thing. you've been warned if ya choose to interact with me.

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ ) 𝐖.𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐀 𝐏𖤐𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

psych-k, affirming on a deeper level

muscle testing yourself & others

dear subconscious...

got questions about psych-k? read this before sending in an ask.

did your ask not get answered? this might be the reason why.

building a manifestation foundation

using code words for manifestation

more posts to come!

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ ) 𝐖.𝐇𖤐'𝐒 𝐆𖤐𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

void 'n victory

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𖤐'𝐒 𝐆𖤐𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

how do i know if i have resistance?

explaining psych-k in portuguese.

when did i first learn about psych-k?

are we supposed to put our strong side over our weak side?

what was the very first thing i manifested?

how long should i do psych-k?

what i can look up to better understand the whole brain state // psych-k?

how i do psych-k to the uptomst efficiency, when in doubt, cover all your bases.

psych-k for appearance change??? :O success!!!

trust your instincts

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𖤐 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𖤐𝐍𝐒 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

🐇 ,,, 🐠 ,,, 🎀 ,,, 👛 ,,, 🍓 ,,, 💌 ,,, 🦦 ,,, 🫀 ,,, 🍫 ,,, 🫶🏻 ,,, 📼 ,,, 🍵,,, 💫 ,,, 👙 ,,, 🌷,,, 🧝🏿‍♀️ ,,, 🌼 ,,, 🍞 ,,, 🐧 ,,, 🎀🧸 ,,, 🦁🐻🦒 ,,,

ᐡ ⊃ ·̫ ⊂ ٠٘⌇. ꩜ 𝐖.𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 ?!!

︶︶︶︶

appearance change shifting success

lucid dreaming void success

void success (2) exam success

longer lashes void success (charlie)

void success (charlie) shifting & wands

void success void concept success

ideal sp scenario time traveling

lucid dreaming void success

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙧 2023

#— navigation. !!~#SoundCloud

165 notes · View notes

lizthewriter · 4 months

Text

as the banks begin to break / sirius black

PAIRING adult!sirius black x forensic analyst!reader

SUMMARY you run the blood analysis for another mystery body - perfectly healthy, no suggestion of how the person died. it was frustrating going back to your boss with nothing. another mystery. and then, you're much too fed up with the feds taking away your stiffs. you take it upon yourself to investigate the mystery of this body further.

"magic can't be real, it's just not physically possible! there are rules and -"

sirius stared up at you from the ground. you stared down at him. though, instead of a human standing there, it was a dog.

"what the fuck."

TAGS adult!sirius black x forensic analyst!reader, mystery fic???, (3) question marks, idk i thought the concept for this was cool and wrote it because why not, intrigue, reader obviously DOES NOT believe in magic, harry potter and the deathly hallows

QUOTE "too tempting not to touch, / but even though it shocked you, / something's electric in your blood," - various storms and saints by florence + the machine

WORD COUNT 3.6K

WRITTEN 1.6.2024

you -

hey, boss wants you to run blood analysis on this john doe we got earlier today. ran his fingerprints through the system, but we came up with nothing. he doesn't expect for you to get a hit, but he wants you to try anyways. i faxed you the preliminary report. send boss your results asap. see you tommorow!

you listened back to the message on your machine before getting to analyzing the blood sample left on your desk. your dear friend and the medical examiner on your team, james, had examined another one of those odd stiffs this morning. dead, but for some reason, no one could figure out how. there had been dozens, if not more than a hundred, in the past two years like this one. more on record in the last century, but the precinct hasn't seen numbers like these since world war two.

this paticular victim was different than the others, however. all other bodies had been identifiable - meaning the police was able to figure out who had died and notify next of kin. this one wasn't - no form of i.d, no money (other than some odd gold and silver coins, most likely worthless), no fingerprints in their databases. you probably wouldn't get a hit on the dna, but you could try.

there was another reason this john doe was fascinating. despite the fact that it seemed like he fell off a building, the preliminary report showed that he recieved the injury post-mortem. james' examination of the body concluded that he must have fallen more than forty stories, but the buildings nearby were less than five stories.

dead bodies don't just fall out of the sky.

you ran the dna profile you had through the national dna database - and surprisingly, you had a pop-up on your screen.

paternal match - scott constance moody

"born august 17, 1912, relations, history, blah blah blah, arrested for public drunkness and indecency on multiple occasions . . . last known address."

the door to your lab slammed open - in anticipation, you immediately closed the file and turned off your computer.

"have any evidence for us this time?" at this point it had become routine. thompson from "mi5" would whisk away the bodies, claiming something ridiculous like "drug deal gone wrong" or "national security risk," looking and acting very much like someone working for a secret government agency trying to hush-hush a deeper plot afoot.

"nope," you responded with an attempt at a solemn expression. "unfortunately, the blood analysis was a dead end. he's just some guy, i suppose."

"we appreciate your discretion," he responded, shaking your hand firmly. you mean you appreciate me not complaining to the other guys at the precinct. certainly is suspicious that an odd-looking fed comes taking dead bodies as much as he does. even if you were to raise suspicions, who would believe you? you were a female nerd practically living in a back closet while the big, strong men handled the real world. he left with nothing else to say.

you turned your computer back on and opened the file again. you scribbled down the address and just as you were about to leave, you looked back down at the dna profile for doe and found something g peculiar. an odd gene marker you had only ever seen a few times before - including your own blood. you drew the profile closer to you, staring down at it. you had never been able to figure out what it was. six years of higher education had taught you nothing and the fancy, hot-shot professors you had take a look couldn't even understand what they were looking at.

what is up with this guy?

you knocked on the front door to an old house, out in the country. pastures of green painted in the skyline, cows and barns littering the landscape beyond it. beautiful, quiet, humble. a very fitting place for an eighty-four year old man.

you saw someone glance through curtains in a window. they disappeared soon after and didn't answer the door. you knocked again and pulled out your police badge. "scott moody? london police, i need to speak with you." you hoped your tone seemed formidable enough. you weren't a cop, you were a forensic scientist, but you needed to speak with him. you needed to understand these dead bodies and the only way to do that was to investigate this moody guy.

finally, the door swung open, and a rather gruff and grumpy man answered. "will you stop that racket? what the hell do you want, girlie?"

you drew in a breath. what should you tell him? you didn't want to lie - that felt cruel. but at the same time, you could suddenly understand why your colleagues seemed so drained after sharing the terrible news to family members. the pressure weighing your stomach was sickening.

"i'd like to ask you some questions about your son, mr. moody. do you mind if i come in?"

"yes, i very much do mind! what's someone like youse interest in my alastor?"

"alastor . . . sir, i'm very sorry to tell you this, but . . . well -"

"out with it, girl!"

"your son died. approximately at twelve forty-five last night. the circumstances of his death are rather . . . under investigation. i just need to gather more information, to find out who killed him."

the man looked genuinely concerned (which suprised you slightly, considering how rude he was) and took a shocked step back. he glanced back inside his own house and then at you. "there's nothing you can do," he said weakly, then shutting the door in your face. you shouted for the man, pounding on his door, but got no response. in a huff, you stormed back to your car and slumped in the driver's seat. you ran a hand down your face - how could you ever think that you could be an investigator? you? you laughed at yourself - so full of yourself, you were neck deep in your own shit. never were you to pull a stunt like this again, not if you wanted to get fired.

as you started the car and swung your gaze around to back out of the driveway, you caught the man sitting out the side window, tying a note to a - was that an owl?

perhaps he was sending a message to someone - through an owl, like a homing pigeon. you had only one instinct.

follow the owl.

driving through the chaos known as the london streets while chasing a bird was a nightmare, but somehow you managed. here you stood, looking out upon a charming old row of houses. the bird had flew to one in the middle, the exterior bricks blackened compared to the crisp pastel orange of the other houses. someone opened the window, letting the owl in, and then closed the window.

you decided to sit there and wait. wait and wait and wait. for what, you didn't know. for the owl to come back out? for you to build up the guts to knock on the front door with very many questions? no, that was a bad idea. who knows who is in that house, what they're doing. so you waited for someone to come out and luckily, they did. a man with long, black hair strutted elegantly down the steps to the front door and down the road. you got out of your car and decided to follow him.

you don't know what had gotten into you recently. the million questions swirling through your head had apparently begged enough to be answered that you just had to oblige, no matter the consequences. the man was dressed rather odd, you noticed. a grape-colored velvet suit with tailcoats, a mustache like your grandfather had worn. he dressed like a man out of time.

when he stopped walking, you stopped. when he started again, you were right on his ass (well, feet away, but still). he took a laise through a farmer's market, glancing around himself a few times before leaving without buying a single thing. he walked down the road and turned into an alleyway. naive as you were, you followed him and found the alleyway empty. only trash littered the ground.

stepping forward, you peeked behind dumpsters and other barriers of the sort. deciding that he must have disappeared somehow, you turned around with a sigh . . . only to be shoved up against the wall by the very man you had been following.

you had two first impressions of the man. the first was that, now that you could observe him up close, you noticed that he was devilishly handsome. the second was that he had a stick pointed at your throat and seemed rather impressed with himself for it.

"you have about ten seconds to explain why you're following me, hm?" his hands were gripped around the fabric of your collar shirt, bunching up the neatly ironed cotton. so much for looking polished. "who are you? fudge's minon? death eater?"

"i'm a member of the police - if you'd only give me a moment to show you my badge -"

"not a chance," he responded, pressing the stixk further into your neck. really, is that supposed to intimidate me? you thought in annoyance. "who are you really?"

"i'm telling the truth."

"how did you find me?"

"i followed you from that house on grimmauld place."

"how do you know about that?"

"following the homing pigeon - well, owl - that scott moody sent."

not only did he seem cautious, but nervous now. "did dumbledore send you?" he asked dubiously.

"i honestly have no idea who that is." memorable name like that, you'd definitely remember him. no, he seemed to be quite odd to you.

"why were you following me?"

you sighed. "i'm invesitgating the death of alastor moody."

although a sadness washed over the man's face, there was something behind his expression that said he already knew. he placed the stick back into the inner pocket of his coat. "you said you were police?" you nodded.

"so you're a muggle," he mumbled. was muggle some new slang term for cop? you didn't know and even more, you didn't care. then, a realization spread over his face.

sirius -

it shouldn't be possible - if you were a muggle, how could you see grimmauld place? because of the many peotective enchantments and ancient runes safeguarding the black house, only those who were wizards should be able to see it. yet, you had watched him walk right out the front door.

"you - you're looking into moody death?" he asked. he supposed it made sense. no one knew during the battle where they fighting high in the air - it was the heat of the moment after all. it only makes sense that muggle police got to his body first. still, he couldn't understand how you could have seen the house of black.

"his case is part of an ungoing investigation into the dozens of deaths of citizens across greater britain in the past two years." ah. so the muggles were catching on to voldemort's dirty work.

"let me guess. they were all perfectly healthy, showed no signs of deah whatsoever?" he asked. of course the muggles were going insane about it. people dying left and right without them even knowing what, or who, was causing it.

"yes, how did you -"

"just a hunch," he shrugged in response to your shocked expression.

"if you know something, you must tell me," you said rather firmly, though it seemed you were under the delusion that you had any sort of authority over him. your tone was not as strong as you may have liked.

"i'm afraid i cannot -"

"cannot what?" you barked back - now that had some bite. his interest was peaked now - what had your wand in a knot? "there are people dying. these dead bodies keep showing up with no sign as to how they died. moody aparently just fell from the sky! dead bodies don't just fall from the sky," you told him with an incredulous laugh. "now you are going to tell me everything you know about these bodies, or i swear on the bloody royal throne itself that i'll - i'll - get it out of you!"

you -

"you cannot just bring some muggle girl - if she really is a muggle - into our headquarters! are you barking mad? and don't you dare make another one of your mutt jokes or on merlin's grave i will -"

"that's quite enough, andromeda," responded a rather polite and calming male voice. there was a murmur and the same man let out a sigh. "at least let the man speak first."

"fine!"

"she saw grimmauld place, she knows about moody! she didn't bloody well seem like one of voldemort's spies, she didn't even know what 'death eater' meant. besides, what was i supposed to do? let her go blabbering to other muggles about this?"

"you could obliviate her."

"i would, if i had ever learned how. besides, it's not ethical, taking away someone's memories like that."

"this is war, black - desperate times call for desperate measures."

"now why don't you get back to shoving your greasy nose down some potions notes, snivellus, and let us grown-ups -"

"you arrogant -"

there was a sudden clammer of noise, the sound of several falling to the ground and pots and pans banging all over the place. a loud thwip! and sudden silence. "stop it! the both of you! has anyone actually bothered to question her?"

there was another round of silence before the door in front of you creaked open. the man who had pinned you up in the alley, black he had been called, looked rather dismal as he invited you into the room.

after your little speech, he requested you joined him in his house. well, you were not expecting the dustiest, blackest house you had ever seen. the entry hall was so thin, you could practically feel the walls caressing your arms. you waited in the entrance hall, outside the door to the kitchen, while he talked with his . . . friends? their conversation was all very confusing, talks of war and the like. were they also part of some secret agency? you weren't sure so you remained cautious.

"hello," you said to all those in the room, your voice trembling nervously. there were six others littered across the room. a rather dreadful looking man in the corner, with a hooked nose. he looked at you with distaste. black stood at the end of the table, his palms planted onto the table. another woman with hair almost as black as the walls, who sighed at your entrance. another man, scars barraging his face, with rather kind eyes. a man with umber skin, dressed in deep blue robes decorated with silver. and finally, a redhaired woman with a rag thrown over her shoulder, a knife in hand as she stood near a cutting board.

"hello," said the scarred-man, a warm smile making your shoulders sag a bit in . . . relief? comfort? "do you mind introducing yourself?"

you revealed your badge to all and recitind your name. "i'm a forensic analyst for the london police," you recited for the third time that day. "earlier this morning, the body of alastor moody was discovered. aside from the head injury he sustained from - well, we're not exactly sure - he seemed perfectly healthy. our medical examiner has concluded that he sustained the injury after his death. as of this morning, his body was taken by an operative of a secret government agency. there have been dozens of other bodies like this over the past couple of years. i've taken it upon myself to investigate this . . . occurence. this morning i tracked down moody's father, who sent a courier - owl - here."

"and is that everything?" black asked with an arched brow, as though he thought you were hiding something. which, ot be fair, you kind of were, but it was a small, unimportant detail and rather ridiculous really. just an irrational price of science that most likely had no relevance to the murders or perhaps a suggestion towards a broken coder in your lab - "well is it?"

you hesitated to answer but felt rather intimidated by the people surrounding you. perhaps sharing everything would be ideal, even if they thought you were barking mad. "well, erm - there's this one thing. do you know what dna is, mr. black?"

black shook his head and the others looked rather confused.

"i do," the scarred man spoke. "remus. a pleasure."

you gave him a polite nod in response. "a blood sample is taken from every body that goes through the police, and we run it through our systems and upload it to a database. moody had a gene marker in his dna - an odd one. one that shouldn't be there."

remus tilted his head, indulging you. "i've had old professors look at his results, even after I reran them. they thought something was wrong with the data. that i should run it again. but i know it wasn't wrong . . . i have the same gene marker in my dna. i'm not mad. it means something. even if others can't see it."

remus looked puzzled for a moment, but as a hazy look crossed his eyes, you could see his demeanor change rather swiftly. he straightened up, and glanced towards sirius with his mouth agape.

"what is it remus?" sirius asked with concern.

"i think that she's found a muggle's way . . . to prove the existence of magic."

sirius -

no. it couldn't be possible. it simply wasn't. if remus was right, if what he said was true, not only did this mean there were rather heinous repercussions for the wozarding world, but . . . you would be in danger.

suddenly, snape stood up from his chair rather suddenly, his eyes latched onto you. his hands still wrapped around the arms of the chairs, gripping them so tightly his knuckles were white. "everyone except sirius and the girl . . . out. now!"

the others were reluctant to leave the room, but they all filed out eventually. dumbledore trusted snape, even ordered snape to kill him, so they all would have to trust snape . . . even if sirius didn't want to.

snale turned his poisonous gaze on you. "sit down."

you followed his instructions, though cautiously, and took the closest seat next to sirius. sirius hoped that implied there was some level of trust between you two, seeing as you'll need it since he couldn't let you leave grimmauld place. "while it seems you haven't been filled in, i find that i cano that rather quickly for you. magic is real and a select number of individuals can possess it - you must be among those people, seeing as only those who are magical can see this house. there has been a wizarding war for over the past three decades, lead by a man named voldemort. the goal of him and his death eaters are to kill or otherwise enslave all those who are non-magical, also known as muggles. do you understand?"

you seemed to be flabbergasted by the assault of information and it's implications, and though you were slow to believe, you simply nodded your head. sirius placed his hand on the back of your chair, protectively, almost territorially.

"snape -"

"do shut your mouth black," snape spat. "a seer, or a prophet as muggles might know them, made a prophecy not long ago. the chosen one becomes the chosen two when eighth month approaches. for someone undesireable as any, she will be hunted down like the dog. she has discovered something no muggle should know. the power to vanquish the dark lord rests in the hand of fate - and should that hand choose to vanquish her, all hope of defeating the dark lord is lost."

"snape, what in the devil's name -"

"do not interrupt me, you -"

"no!" sirius exclaimed, slamming the goblet he was holding down on the table. wine spilled out from the cup, dripping down the rusted golden edge. "that is quite enough. i'm sure our guest has gone through enough the past day. she is famished and tired. let her rest and perhaps then we can discuss whatever nonsense you're blabbering on about."

sirius turned towards you with a softer expression and gestured for you to follow him out. you glanced back at snape, he noticed, if just for a moment. but soon enough, the two of you were in the foyer sitting across from each other.

your head was buried between the palms of your hand - it was obvious that you were distressed. "are you all right?" sirius asked softly.

"all right?" you asked, glancing up at him, your tone incredulous. "all right? no, no, i am just fine. you know, I just found out magic is real and there's some wizard war going on that no one knows about. yeah, this isn't news to me at all! you know, i get to work flying around on my little witch broom like everyone else! no i'm not all right!"

"we actually do use brooms as a model of transportation, that's not a myth," sirius told you, rather factually. you didn't seem very amused by his short educational bit. "look, i know this is overwhelming -"

"why should I even believe you?" you asked, tone rising in volume, though more out of worry than anger. "i mean something inexplicable could explain moody's death, but magic? magic can't be real, it's just not physically possible! there are rules and -"

sirius stared up at you from the ground. you stared down at him. though, instead of a human standing there, it was a dog.

"what the fuck."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter #— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]

104 notes · View notes