#Poe? ig?

[clingyduoapologist]

I do think Star Wars is inherently funny from a narrative perspective because it chooses to mash intense political tensions and long scenes with characters verbally sparring in or about senate proceedings with whatever the hell the Jedi and Sith of that era got going on. Like every Star Wars cast will almost always consist of 1 guy who’s jaded by a life spent trying to squeeze some semblance of change out of a system that’s been corrupted for hundreds of years along side Abnio Keely unwilling space wizard and god’s favorite boy

[scrimblyscrorblo]

Love in fics where these two interact cuz canonically the most Poe has interacted w him is bailing him out of jail TT

He is absolutely nervous because he means so much to Ranpo, absolutely not because he’s authority. I refuse to believe my man cares much for authority tbh his behaviour simply does not support the idea that he does

[daz4i]

i’m running out of captions for these. hope everyone’s having a fulfilling healthy and joyous day

[demiboydemon]

Headcanon that after defeating Ganondorf, Link and Zelda make a poe collecting task force to traverse the depths and save the different souls trapped there

[stargirl230]

Starstruck ✨

My chromebook finally gave out (rip) so I got a long-awaited hardware update!! This was a test on my new ipad :D

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[julysecnd]

why are they on a date ????? 😳👀🤨📸

[trains-boy]

If I was Ranpo they'd have to TEAR ME OFF OF THIS MAN

[vanalex]

Credit: abigail_larson | FB & IG

[irritablepoe]

Ignore the heart eyes I literally hate you

[nkp1981]

Who will impress the judge Mace Windu and win “Masterchef Star Wars”?

[greyhairedcanuck2]

@geographically-challenged for Friday

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Half way through episode 12 of season 2, why do I ship Jeanne and Vanitas????? Why am I sobbing???? I told you the teacher was sinister!!!!!

[leodehurlvant]

BSD doodles from memory

[batshikns]

this is how far i got on that poezai art 😕

[barxlupin]

real question though, who would like a piece of this man? 👀

[chippedshake]

Barty had met Regulus and Evan just a couple hours ago, having sat together on the Hogwarts Express after making it very clear to them that he was a pureblood. Despite that having been the only reason they chose to sit with them, Barty rather liked the pair, and he decided he wanted to be friends with them.

Now they were all trying to fall asleep, away from home for the first time. As Barty tosssed and turned for what seemed like the hundredth time, a voice rung out in the darkness.

"Do you know any horror stories?"

Barty told them a story his sister had told him (shut up he has an older sister now because I say so) about a ghost that apparently lived at Hogwarts, picking off weak first years to purify the castle.

Regulus told a story his brother had told him (not that the other two had to know where it came from) about a woman who killed her husband and buried the body in her backyard.

Evan told a story about a man who was nervous, yes, nervous, but not insane. He killed his acquaintance because his eye was horrible. He cut him to bits and stuffed him under the floorboard. When the police came, his heart was beating so loud he confessed.

Barty didn't sleep that night, kept awake by a heart-like pounding and the image of a bloodshot, blue eye.

The tradition of telling horror stories continued throughout first year, and Evan outdid the other two every night. Eventually, it stopped being a time for them all to share their stories, and Evan adopted the role of the story-teller.

He told them of madmen and murderers and deceiving old men and suspicious widows. His ideas never seemed to run out.

Slowly, his stories turned from horror to thriller, to mystery, to adventure, to romance, and they all mixed and mingled amongst themselves. As they grew older, his stories grew longer, and he would often tell them along the course of a couple nights, sometimes a week or two.

He wove masterpieces, stories of every genre, with every sort of character, with every sort of plot. He spoke of a boy named Holden in an unnamed city being expelled from his school and spending days alone, wandering around, his parents unaware of his expulsion. He told the story of an exiled man who forgot his parents, and then killed his father and married his mother, having children with her before realizing his horrifying mistake. They spent several nights following the story of four teenagers like themselves, stuck in a complex love square, with amortentia and a troublesome house elf giving everyone the wrong potion. Several more were spent with a boy and a girl, deeply in love, but with families that despised each other.

They all had their own favourite story.

Regulus's was the one about the pair of siblings taken by a witch. She wanted to eat them, but the siblings worked together and escape. He always got a nostalgic look on his face when Evan would tell it, and while he didn't say anything, it was rather evident who he was thinking about.

Barty's was the one about the teenage boys at Hogwarts from a couple decades ago, who used to sneak out to read poetry to each other in a cave. He liked to imagine a world where he was carefree enough to wander around the grounds, looking for hidden nooks to read in, and spend time with his friends.

Evan loved to tell the story about the warriors who sieged a city. He followed the story of two of them: one of them nearly invincible (all but his famous heel), the other a weakling, wearing the one's armour. He never got through the story of their deaths without crying.

Evan refused to tell them stories for the first month of sixth year. His eyes drifted to his left arm when he told them he couldn't continue, his face falling with guilt. He didn't tell them why he picked up the habit again in October.

The stories turned darker. They turned into stories of oppression, of hatred, of injustice. They turned more raw. Unjust imprisonments, irrational hate thrown at someone for unknown reasons.

He would stop for weeks at a time, telling them he was too tired to think of any stories. Barty and Regulus were too exhausted themselves to worry about him.

He told his last story the night Regulus didn't return from his "short errand". It was about a girl that brought pastries to her grandmother. It was a bit short, and more lighthearted than anything he'd told since sixth year, but it was a decent enough distraction from the fact that their friend should've been home by then.

They had more important things to do, after that. They devoted themselves entirely to the Dark Lord, to finding the bastard that killed their best friend, and giving him the slowest and most painful death they could manage.

It was with this devotion, this hatred, this vengeance settled deep in his heart that Barty duelled Moody, Evan at his side. He threw a couple curses, eyes darting around for exits. He coudn't find any. They couldn't win this fight, he was sure of it. They needed an escape plan. If there was just a momentary distraction, he could apparate out of there.

"Bee, careful with your-"

A flash of green.

Barty fell asleep alone that night, and the silence had never been louder.

He realized as he woke up the next morning, alone for the first time in eight years, that he would never again hear Evan whisper another story, laughing or crying under his breath, struggling to get the words out. He would never again catch Regulus's eye during a story, both of them staring at Evan in awe at the way he wove his words together, creating beautiful tapestries every night. He would never find out where Evan's true inspiration came from.

Or at least not until years later, when he would be browsing his father's library and would find a compilation of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories. Not until the moment when he would read The Tell-Tale Heart, and would realize that it was the same story Evan had told them that fateful night during first year. Not until he would find The Catcher in the Rye, Oedipus, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Romeo and Juliet, Hansel and Gretel, The Dead Poets Society, The Iliad. Not until he would realize that his friend had been crying out for help. He'd been crying out for help every night seven years, and no one had heard him. He'd never believed the cause he was fighting for, the cause he'd died for. And now that Barty had finally heard him, it was too late to save him.