#you know what it is you shall not listen to

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{ So I was listening to “They’re only human” Death note the musical and this come out of the brain so here you gremlins go! }~

🌌🌙The Solar🌙🌌

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If someone asked danny what he thought his life in the future would look like he would have said something like “Of course I will be an astronaut!” Or something to that effect

But what he did not expect was for him to have a protective and strong ass husband [Who is phantom and now the Ghost king and isn’t that something] with a little toddler who is 2 ( Dani who will be called dawn in this ) and a little protective toddler who is 4 (Dan who is called dusk) who he loves more than anything

And gain a ghost family who adores him (but for the price of another) who put up with his husband and adore him as well as spoil his Sun and Moon rotten

Now let’s see how this become as it has shall we?

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Danny was having a bad day, first he almost miss class again [due to a mix of being to exhausted to get up on his on from fighting ghosts all night and with jazz being busy with college hunting so she couldn’t wake him up and his parents don’t even know what time he wakes up at for school]

Second Dash wouldn’t leave him alone and it was becoming hard to keep himself..well not really himself but recently he’s been feeling this that for a better word are not his to feel like when a ghost hit a bit to hard to feels rage and protectiveness wash over him anyway back to this.

Third Sam and Tucker were both out for separate reasons for Sam her parents had some kind of rich people thing to do and dragged her with them and tucker with his family were going to visit some relatives so yeah Danny had no one to hang out with.

Third apparently they had a test in English that nobody told Danny about so he knows he is going to fail that and some other things but it would get to long if we bought all that up but you get the point

So when Danny gets back home and all he wants to do is go to his room change into phantom and hug/chill himself out who is anyone to deny him [Like with the feeling feels that weren’t his, yeah he got the habit after a very bad day where his parents shot him in the back of the leg and it hurt bad so he hugged himself and apparently it was the right thing to do because he started to feel better! Not physically no it still hurt like a motherfucker but emotionally yes so he started to do that when ever he felt he needed comfort]

So Danny goes to his bedroom [not noticing the tall orange figure following him up] and closes the door [it was left ajar just enough for someone to look in] and changes into phantom but he hears the door open the door and he turns to see his dad looking at him

And the next thing he knows is a red hot pain coming from his side and blacks out

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It has been a week a long and painful week since his parents found out

After Jack [NEVER dad never again] he brought him down to the lab and tied him to a table and did…unspeakable things to him…have been doing this to him for a week

After two days Danny heard two more wails and he recognized the voices it was dan and Dani! [his children] and they were hurting them, Danny tired to get their attention to him to get them away from them but the damage was done and Dani and Dan went into their cores due to the damage but thank the ancients the cores were basically a undamageable and none of their weapons work on them

So that turns all their attention on him and how that would be their downfall [and the whole dimensions with them]

On day five is when Danny’s human “half” gives out due to no food or water and with the torture Maddie and Jack have inflicted on him it wasn’t really a surprise but what was when phantom and Danny unfazed and phantom was pissed they hurt Danny [his husband] they hurt Dani and Dan [his children] they weren’t getting of easy

So well they were fighting the now fully ghost Danny gets out from his restraints and grabs Dani and dans cores and pushes them inside him to heal them by essentially force feeding their cores clean ecto

Than phantom grabs him and pulls him fast to the portal and the go through and as they do they destroy the portal [not knowing that in doing that they let out all the built-up ecto and that essentially bombs the dimension taking everything with it]

And now that brings Danny here after healing and when the children cores got enough ecto that they could come out [as well as speed running a very loving relationship that is still going very strong]

And now Danny is very happy with his life now or well after-life

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~{ Now onto the DCU part! }~

When Damian got into a fight with father he expected to be benched as Robin for a few days or a week what he was not expecting was for father to assigned him to go and watch a warehouse that is known for not having been used for anything for longer than Damien himself has been alive [it’s due to a cult that hangs around there not that the bats know that]

So now here is Damien tide up in surprisingly good rope that he can not break free from in the middle of a summoning circle and waiting for the other to get here while the cultist surrounds the circle and start to speak in a language Damian does not understand and Damian doesn’t believe anything will happen

Until the summoning circle turns into a portal and Damian falls through as the others get there to help him

The last thing Damien remembers before he passes out is someone yelling after a while Damian wakes up in a bed…? A very soft large bed with a lot of space and as Damien takes in his surroundings he hears a door opening and as he turns his head to look he sees a tall man…? Woman? Person let’s go with that

They walk over to him and start cooing? At him and  fretting over him [✨Mom instincts✨] and stuff a few days? [time is weird Damian has found] and the person has started to bring him with them as they walk around [Danny wants the little child to get some air and cleaner Ecto] and he has met the person’s children who are named dusk and dawn respectively and they have taken him as their older brother he believes this is due to the person [who he now knows his name is Solar, it’s not just everyone calls him that due to his space obsession] calls him his Stars much like how he calls this children his Sun and Moon

And with meeting Solar with Dawn and Dusk it is a guarantee that Damien was to meet Solar infamous husband Phantom [who he has heard about from the whispers of some of the working staff] and it goes pretty well [not that Phantom can do shit to this child his husband has already taken him in as his own] so he lets the child stay for how long as he likes

Meanwhile with the Batfam

The Batfam are freaking TF out about where Damian is and is he safe OMG-

=====================================

~{ And that’s all I can really do with the DCU part I am very tired if you can’t tell and now onto the details! }~

Now for Danny outfit I’m thinking something like this

With this over coat

And for hair/hair ornaments

And for phantom you know the drill blue-greenish skin, white hair and pointy ears

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~{ And that is about it! Sorry if the last part is weird I am very tired and sleepy anyway I hope you guys like this and see you gremlins later byeeee }~

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 4) (Interactive Story)

Had some close ties last part :3 But we have gone with "STAND YOUR GROUND AND FIGHT!"

Lets continue this tragic story, shall we~?

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal

Ships: Shadowpeach

Angst: You betcha

Fluff: With enough choices, maybe we'll get there.

Macaque smacked their hands away from.

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” he shouted, adrenaline choking his words into a hoarse rasp. He tried to call upon his power, to manifest his staff from nothingness, but all that greeted him was a suffocating void where his shadow should have been. He never had a time in his life where he didn’t have his very essence beside him. More than just an ally in combat, it was a piece of himself. To no longer have it to draw from was bone chilling.

Still, he was not going to the Diyu. Not today, not anytime soon. With no other option, he rolled his hands into fists and held them up. He wasn’t completely defenseless without a weapon. He would fight in any means he needed to, teeth and claws included.

“Desperation doesn’t suit you, Liu’er,” the first figure replied, tilting their head with feigned pity. “You’re merely prolonging the inevitable. Denial only deepens the pit that cling to your soul.”

Macaque’s heart twisted painfully in his chest—if it still beat, he wondered. “You don’t understand! I have to—”

“Have to what?” the second figure interrupted, their voice smooth as silk yet laced with a chilling edge. “Have to stay connected to that which caused you so much pain? What are you, Liu’er? A martyr? A ghost bound by grief?”

“I’m not a ghost!” he yelled back, fury igniting within him against the encroaching cold and despair. He did not have to explain himself to these two. He did not have to make justification for his actions. His reasonings were his own. To be denied life simply because he wanted to bring his Mate home- it was unfair. It was nothing but an injustice! And he wanted to be sure his Mate knew that.

“No, I am not a martyr,” Macaque spat, trembling as the weight of his fragmented memories pressed down on him. “I’m a warrior. My fate is not up for anyone but myself to decide.”

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from mockery to something resembling interest. “Ah,” the first remarked, voice dripping with mock delight. Many had attempted and failed such similar feats. Too many tried to cheat or deny death, and all were quick to realize that there was no parting from it. Dragging another soul down by force was any typical Monday for them.

“Listen, fella,” one drawled, “I’d rather not play this game. You’ll fight us, we’ll overpower you, yada yada-but in the end, I'm afraid you’ll still lose.” The figure’s amusement made Macaque’s eyebrow twitch.

He squared his jaw and prepared himself for whatever they might conjure next. “You think you know my fate? You think you know me?” he retorted, a fierce gleam in his eyes.

The second figure, taller and clad in shadow that flickered like flames, took a step forward, a smirk playing on their lips. “Lets get this over with, hmm? It’ll be the talk of the Diyu when we bring you in. One of the four demon Stone Monkeys, the Six Eared Macaque, the mate of Sun Wukong. The man who avoids death like a plague- yet sent his own beloved there with his own two hands.”

Macaque’s skin prickled, his eyes widening in fury as he lunged.

His fingers clawed through the emptiness, aiming for the smirk that enflamed his rage further. The first figure merely sidestepped, maneuvering with a grace that belied their insidious nature. Mocking, teasing, then standing with utter stillness. Goading Macaque to even try to take a swing.

When Macaque did, his fist connected with the man’s jaw. Expecting the man to recoil, to react- his stomach dropped when the man only smirk. The attack hadn’t even jerked the man’s head back, as if Macaque's punch were a gentle breeze ruffling through his hair. “Is that all you have?” he taunted, rubbing the corner of his mouth with a deliberate slowness. “Such power wasted on a hallow spirit.”

With a flick of his wrist, the figure conjured a dark mist that wrapped around Macaque's limbs like serpents, constricting him, pinning him to the spot. The icy grasp snaked up to his neck, squeezing just enough to steal away his breath. Panic set in, and he thrashed against the bonds.

What power did a spirit have. Nothing without a form. Nothing without a body to command.

“No!” Macaque gasped, fighting against the shadows coiling tighter, each breath a battle. Desperation clawed at his chest like a wild animal seeking freedom, making him writhe. It couldn’t end like this—not here, not now. He needed to- he wanted- there was so much he hadn’t done. So much he hadn’t said.

As he twisted, his gaze caught Wukong. Only but a few steps away, legs crossed and back straight as he meditated. Unaware, uncaring- even if he could see him now, would he even help him? “I-!” he choked up. He was home. He didn't want to be taken from it. He didn't want to continue to be forced to leave his home due to the will of another.

He was scared. Terrified. Perhaps it was just a natural thing to fear death. To fear what you did not know. He feared the cold, the pain he might experience down there.

The isolation and the inevitable punishment they were bound to give him for attacking the Great Monk Tripitaka. He had accepted this fact at the time, so he supposed had no one but himself to blame but... but still...

And more than anything- Wukong.

Did he want to yell at Wukong? Stay with him? End things? Reconcile? He didn't know! But he at least wanted the time to figure it out!

So close. Right there... He was right there...

Previous

next;

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

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Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend.

Part .3 • Part .5 (soon)

Part 4

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You had been in the car for 30 minutes before you finally arrived at his mysterious destination. Hanta didn’t let anything slip the entire drive, but the whole ride had been really enjoyable.

Listening to the radio with the windows slightly open, wind blowing in your hair, you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting from time to time to his face and his hands gripping the wheel.

When you stepped out of the car you were greeted by a beautiful orange flower field in the middle of nowhere. A bit further away you could see another car parked right in front of the field.

”Hanta…that’s— that looks heavenly oh my” you mumble, shock visible on your face. You felt his hand in your back guiding you to the car who had its trunk wide open. There, you were surprised by a blanket covering the floor of the trunk, small lights taped on the inside and a basket filled with snacks.

”I like coming here to watch the sunset when I feel a little down. I figured you might want to see it” he runs his hand in the back of his neck with a small smile.

”Thank you Hanta, that’s lovely. I love this” you smile at him and his eyes get lost in yours as he sees the excitement fill your eyes. He feels stupid for not having the courage to ask you out. When he heard your voice through the phone, all he had memorized a few minutes before disappeared from his mind in a single second.

He cleared his throat and offered you his hand. “Shall we?”

You grin “We shall” you say as you take his hand and he helps you climb inside. You find a comfortable position and Hanta settles himself next to you.

You never would’ve thought that time could run by so fast with someone. You’ve been talking for hours about anything that crossed your minds. Not getting bored a single second. How haven't you noticed him all this time? How did Izuku never mention him and his other friends before?

Perhaps it wasn’t yet time for you to meet and you were made to crossways in a specific way or place, like this assignment.

When you think about it, it’s all thanks to that teacher for giving you that assignment. You wouldn’t have met Hanta without it, or maybe you would’ve but later on? but how long after, that’s the question.

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear Hanta calling out to you.

”Earth to y/n, you’re here bonita?” he chuckles at your surprised face.

”Yes! Sorry I um— got lost in my thoughts " you chuckle and turn to him more attentively.

”I was saying the sun is beginning to set” he points to the horizon with his lips and you straighten yourself up to crawl closer to the scenery. You cross your legs and feel Hanta doing the same thing as your shoulders lightly brush against each other.

Hanta let his eyes fall on your form as you sit here admiring the sky. He could smell your perfume, a sweet, warm and fruity scent he had grown to love and crave. It hadn’t been long since you guys first met but god did you drive him crazy.

To the point of his whole family knowing almost everything about you from how much he rambled about you when he went to visit them. Leaving him embarrassed anytime, they mention when he’ll bring you home and how they wish to meet the girl that had their boy so infatuated.

But what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he confessed, and it ruined everything you two had going on. He wouldn’t risk that. He would rather stay friends forever than not have you in his life.

So for now, he was just going to admire you from afar and enjoy the moments you already share.

As you watch the sun set, you take out the small camera you always had on yourself and take a picture. You turn to Hanta and take a quick picture of him as well when you thought he wasn't looking.

”Did you just—“ he grins.

”Nope!” You say as you try to hide the camera from him when he attempts to snatch it from your hands.

”I should be allowed to take a picture of you as well then, lend me that camera would you” he chuckles as he leans closer and begins tickling your sides.

“Hanta— stop that—“ you can’t help the loud laugh that espaces your mouth as you try to get his hands away from your sides. He keeps tickling you until tears begin to form in your eyes and you give up.

”O-OK! here” you hand him the camera with one hand and wipe the small tear drops that threaten to fall from your eyes as you continue to let out small giggles.

He takes the camera from your hands and snaps a picture the moment you turn your head at him.

”Wait, let me at least pose or something!” You protest.

”No, it’s perfect the way it is” he laughs as you cross your arms and attempt to look mad at him.

“Come on, I know you can’t stay mad at me for long” he nudged your arm teasingly.

You sigh and roll your eyes. “You’re right I can’t”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you before Hanta speaks again.

”You’ll send me the picture I took of you?”

”Yeah, of course” You give him a closed eye smile.

a/n im having so much fun writing this, i can't stop skjsks ughh i love sero sm

[zigdirty]

By the time I got off work this year, I’d already seen that the election had been called. I already knew the results.

Normally I have the tradition of watching this spectacular film every Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, so I can enjoy it all over again, but also do I am always aware of how easily fascism can take over.

The irony of this Election Day being on Guy Fawkes Day, and the stakes of said election, were not lost on me. Not in the slightest.

But having been unable to watch it before I went to work Tuesday, I planned to at least start it before the end of the day. That is, until I saw the news.

All I could hear in my head was the speech broadcast across the emergency channel:

Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. They were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic, you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

This has played on repeat in my mind since I learned of the election results, searing itself into my psyche.

We are now at that place. We are now the people to whom V was speaking in the movie.

I cannot bring myself to rewatch this marvel of live-action film. I do not believe it would bring me joy any longer.

We have no one else to blame but ourselves.

And we have a long road ahead of us out of hell.

V for Vendetta (2005)

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

There is noise at the edge of Mordor.

A patrolling group of uruk are caught off guard as a group of mortals, all seemingly defeated, crossed their borders all packed with large bags and belongings.

None of the uruk really knew what to do in this situation, so they made sure to confiscate weapons. Except none really carried mkre than herb cutters and small skinning knives..

After some discussing in black speech they decided this was a task only the Lord Father could answer, so they led the mortals to the edge of their hometown and had someone call for their leader.

"What brings you to our lands? I believe our terms were very clear, to leave each other be." Adar stood tall, hand resting on his sword in a gesture of strength.

"Our lands are no longer safe for us." "Our leader cast us out." There were men and women, older and young ones as well.

"We are not allowed to exsist." One spoke, and it got Adar's attention. With another good look he saw the exhaustion in their eyes. The fear they held was not directed at him, nor at his children.

"Come. We shall talk over food. You look like you need it." Mortals were nowhere near as sturdy as the uruk, and traveling all the way to his lands must have been a difficult task.

Around the cook's post the mortals ate, at small tables or on the ashen ground they huddled together. Some, the ones most outspoken, sat with Adar and talked him through the situation going on in their homeland.

They spoke of the tirant who set new laws and rules that would lead to their mutilation, take away their most basic rights or even get them killed without a punishment to their killer. They wholeheartedly believed they were beyond saving if they had stayed.

"I believe your words, and I see your worries. I only ask of the why. Why are you the ones targeted?" It was a genuine question, as he could not see what was so different about these mortals.

"I like men." A male voice spoke up. "And I pefer women." A girl added. "How I want to percieved is not the same as what I was born as. Our new leader believes people like me do not deserve to live.."

"You are cast aside for who you chose to be, or to be with?" The confusion was clear on his face, and what he felt turned to anger. Never in his life had he thought of casting someone out for being different in these ways. His kind did not truly see these things as something to pay any attention to, even.

Adar cast a gaze over the mortals in his town, and decided.

"You may stay, if you wish." He declared. "But know our culture differs from yours. What you find normal may be seen as strange. And our common actions may be seen as offensive to mortal standards. You will have to learn to live among uruk, and I will inform my children of newcomers who need to find their place."

All around the group, uruk had come to see. They listened to their Lord Father speak kindly to the mortals and took his lead. Soon enough they all settled into homes, huddled together still, but all with rheir own places to make themselves useful during the day and share their skills.

Mordor sounded terrifying when the royals spoke of it, but truly it was a haven for all those cast out by their own realms.

OKAY SO. Eh, yeah. This one is for everyone who needs a little fantasy to escape the scary reality of the world. As a European I can't say I know what all of you in the US are going through, but I still wanna share some words fo escape into for a little bit. I love all of you.

You matter ♡

💚🐰

Awww, thank you so much for sending this, friend 🖤🖤🖤

15/10 would choose to go live among the uruks at this point.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Some villains are all your unspoken sins personified.

The sins you didn’t commit out of fear and better knowing, the sins you regret thinking about,

the sins that scare you.

The late night thoughts you fear, the fits of rage you’ve learnt to contain.

The words you never speak out loud, the things you could be but actively chose not to become.

You fear that part of you, and you’re aware.

That villain is you, what you could have been. You fear that thought… you’re frightened, but also curious. What does that say about you? Does it mean anything? Is that yet another part of you that should be feared, the curiosity?

The genuine interest, the questioning? The wonder?

You tell yourself you never want to find out what kind of person you could be, but is that true? Is it fear or excitement keeping you up at night? The voices in the back of your head when that one person did you wrong… are they truthful, are they right, are they wrong, are they even there?

Is this you? The madness hidden within, is that more you than the person you are now? Is it somebody else whispering these things to you, telling you to do things?

Does it matter? The real question is, are you going to answer?

Are you going to do it? Or is it safer to pretend that part of you never existed and never will?

The villains… are they to fear? To blame? Take a look on yourself, and answer honestly: the things you did and the things you never did, what do they make you?

And now, the villain… an active choice or a scream for help? Would you do the same they did? No, would you? If there was no control?

What do you know about the madness within and the thoughts before and behind the actions? What do you know about the motive and the great scheme of it all?

Who knows what you’re capable of?

Who knows if you’re the right person to come with such statements, blaming others… who are you to blame them? Who are you to blame?

Who knows? How would they know? Don’t let them find out. Take that as you will.

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Maedhros built up a high pain resistance from Angband; particularly to the burning sensation. Considering how low he thinks of himself, it’s likely he expected the Silmaril to burn him. He didn’t think he was redemptive, he thought I can take it.

Part of why Maedhros acts so viciously is because that’s how life treated him. I can take it if my brothers die. I can take it if I’m damned for eternity. I can take it if everybody thinks I’m a monster.

He’s proud, and he’s suffering. He won’t back down, he will succeed or be martyred.

[dufferpuffer]

~crawls out of my mud hole like a bunyip~ Delicious… food… Albus meta...

This is a cool comparison to make - because so much is the same, as OP said. + Albus is trying to keep them on his side. + Harry and Severus have both lost someone dear to them and are going through emotional breakdowns. + They both blame themselves for their losses and both wish for non-existence. + Albus stays carefully controlled while they rage and mourn. + He references 'The Best Of' Severus and Harrys 'Greatest Strength' as being the fact they care deeply.

But I think, with all those similarities... We can distinctly see how these two situations differ.

(Small thing: I don't think Albus suspected Tom was immortal until at LEAST scar-baby with no Voldy-coprse, so it hadn't been kept from Severus. But whatever.)

Make no mistake: Albus is a COLD man. Just about frozen over. + Partially intentional - a lifetime of keeping people away, not trusting anyone with his vulnerabilities. + Partially just… he's always been like that. An outcast, out of step with the rest of the world.

In that section with Severus: His high heel boot is pressing down on Snape's neck. + He explains the situation in short, harsh sentences. + He cuts Snape off. + Offers one way forward with absolutely no comfort, no time to breathe, no understanding or sympathy. + He meets his anguish with harsh, mocking cruelty. + The pace is fast, bouncing between them, barely any descriptive words for Albus' speech other than 'coldly' and 'sighed'.

The only softness, the only 'warmth', is in him saying: “My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Even that is manipulative: Agreeing to be obedient is 'the best' of him. It's a joke, really, to call him lifting his boot from choking Severus 'warmth'...

Adding this from a little before - 'coz it's DELICIOUSLY savage:

“I thought… you were going… to keep her… safe…” “She and James put their faith in the wrong person,” said Dumbledore. “Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?” Snape’s breathing was shallow.

...Severus dares to suggest ANY of this guilt sits with Albus and gets his head bitten off for it. Albus shirks responsibility off his own shoulders, slides it onto Severus' by comparing him directly to the betrayer - and then slaps him in the face for being such a moron, hoping Voldemort of all people would do as he asked. Whoever betrayed Lily (Sirius) is nothing compared to him and his foolish folly.

It is VICIOUS how Albus stomps guilt down his throat.

… ... ...

For Harry's section, He is bellowing in anguish too. (More violently but that's not important.) Albus has locked him in his office. He is railroading Harry, giving him one way forward: listen to what he has to say. Be obedient.

But the way he goes about this is so utterly different: (I'm including things omitted from the above point for its brevity - same chapter.)

‘I DON’T CARE!’ Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. ‘I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANY MORE -‘ He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions. ‘You do care,’ said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. ‘You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.’ ‘I - DON’T!’ Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself. ‘Oh, yes, you do,’ said Dumbledore, still more calmly. ‘You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.’ ‘YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!’ Harry roared. ‘YOU- STANDING THERE- YOU-‘ But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; he wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He ran to the door, seized the doorknob again and wrenched at it. But the door would not open. Harry turned back to Dumbledore. ‘Let me out,’ he said. He was shaking from head to foot. ‘No,’ said Dumbledore simply. For a few seconds they stared at each other. ‘Let me out,’ Harry said again. ‘No,’ Dumbledore repeated. ‘If you don’t - if you keep me in here - if you don’t let me -‘ ‘By all means continue destroying my possessions,’ said Dumbledore serenely. ‘I daresay I have too many.’ He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry. ‘Let me out,’ Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore’s. ‘Not until I have had my say,’ said Dumbledore.

Albus is unflinching, detached. Harry hates how calm he is, he wants to break how calm he is, make him openly feel something for once. Albus is infuriatingly serene, saying things simply, sitting down… encouraging Harry's outburst of emotion. It is Harry that speaks coldly this time - forcing his anguish to be calm and savage rather than hot and roaring.

That is already hugely different from when he spoke to Severus - where he cut him off and mocked him. 'Is this remorse? What use is that to anyone?'

Rather than telling Harry his pain is useless he sympathizes. Deeply. With intricate detail: He knows how it feels to lose your father, mother and close family: It is 'as if you will bleed to death with the pain'. He could have brought up his own experiences up - to try and prove that he does know, that he and Harry are the same in this. But he doesn't. What use would his remorse be? To try and gain sympathy, a defense of himself, at this moment of horror would be grotesquely selfish. He isn't here to defend himself.

‘Do you - do you think I want to - do you think I give a - I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE GOT TO SAY!’ Harry roared. ‘I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say!’ ‘You will,’ said Dumbledore steadily. ‘Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it.’ ‘What are you talking -?’ ‘It is my fault that Sirius died,’ said Dumbledore clearly. ‘Or should I say, almost entirely my fault - I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone.’ Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but was unaware of it. He was gazing at Dumbledore, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing. ‘Please sit down,’ said Dumbledore. It was not an order, it was a request.

With Severus - Albus took any guilt off his own shoulders and saddled Severus with it. Used it to pressure him. He does the EXACT opposite here. Everything is put on his own shoulders and the little bit that isn't he frames as a compliment to Sirius' character - not a failing.

+ He guilt-tripped and demanded Severus pay his debt to Lily. He gave him no choice. Severus' obedience would be his best quality. + He requests Harry to sit down and listen while he gives him the truth. Explains his own guilt. Not for sympathy, but because Harry is owed the truth. 'If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been…'

Albus is not an open man. he is secretive, distant, cold. But he isn't doing that here. For pages and pages he answers Harry's questions in such detail... I doubt he has told anyone else such a complete account. He likes to keep the whole picture to himself having been bitten by betrayals before… But he tells Harry so much. He answers his yelled, spat and snarled questions calmly - never once 'coldly'.

…And it gets to him. It cracks his calm, unflinching persona. A man who does things 'for the greater good', keeping himself detached from wild emotions to stand steady, act with cold logic:

Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him. Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses. ‘It is time,’ he said, ‘for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you.’ [...] ‘Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine,’ said Dumbledore. ‘An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort.’ […] ‘Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid.’ ‘I don’t -‘ ‘I cared about you too much,’ said Dumbledore simply. ‘I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act. […] Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore’s face into his long silver beard.

...It is all so out of character for Albus to speak like this. To spend pages not just explaining events and other peoples perspectives - but his own personal thought processes, his own emotions, his own failings and his own plans.

Maybe it's all a manipulative act. He's leaking crocodile tears with big puppy eyes to win Harry's favor, giving him what he wants - knowledge and support - to lure him back to obedience... But that is the exact opposite to how we normally see him manipulate people.

+ Twinkling eyes and small smiles, light silly humor + Mixing making himself seem impressive with self-effacing. + Staying calm and unaffected, as if lightly humored. + Gently pointing people in the direction he wants them to think rather than giving answers outright, risking leaking how he feels and what he knows. (as even seen in the very first chapter of the first book). + A judging use of "So you would even feel X…?", bringing up the concept of 'X' as if he may disagree - but leaving himself free to swing positive or negative, or stay vague. When tensions get higher: + His calm freezing over, becoming cold. + Speech snappy and harsh, insulting and belittling. + Dominating demands, controlling the conversation. + Never revealing more information than is strictly necessary. + Withholding information, even when cruel to do so. + Acting innocent while twisting events to favor him.

He isn't doing ANY of that in this chapter with Harry. And when he does almost, just a little, like the multiple probings of 'do you see now where my plan failed…?' - trying to avoid having to rip himself open and admit his feelings… he does so anyway. Not vague, not tip-toeing: he bites the bullet. He stays calm, yes - but is not unaffected. He cries. He shows weakness Harry has never seen before.

It's not just a one-and-done moment either - from this point on he includes Harry in so much of HBP. He takes him from the Dursleys mere days into Summer (after Harry tells him off here for keeping him 'trapped' like Sirius) and gets his aid in things he tells nobody else about (after saying here how he should have been including him more, like Harry wanted, rather than pushing him away for 'his own safety' when he will be in danger no matter what.) Albus heeds Harry's pain and works to do better. He changes.

He is not as cold and manipulative here as he was to Snape.

Dumbledore's Manipulations: Part 6(?)

I just reread the scene in Deathly Hallows of Dumbledore and Snape on Snape's memories after Lily died, and that entire scene reminded me of the scene at the end of book 5. After Sirius died and Harry was having his breakdown.

Snape breaking down in front of Dumbledore after Lily dies:

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?” “DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone. . . dead. . . ” “Is this remorse, Severus?” “I wish. . . I wish I were dead. . . ” “And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.” Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach him. “What—what do you mean?” “You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.” “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—” “The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last, he said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear. . . especially Potter’s son. . . I want your word!” “My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist. . . ”

(DH, 573)

Harry breaking down in front of Dumbledore after Sirius dies:

“There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,” said Dumbledore’s voice. “On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.” Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words. “My greatest strength, is it?” said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. “You haven’t got a clue. . . . You don’t know . . .” “What don’t I know?” asked Dumbledore calmly. It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage. “I don’t want to talk about how I feel, all right?” “Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” [...] “Let me out,” Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore’s. “Not until I have had my say,” said Dumbledore. [...] “It meant,” said Dumbledore, “that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.” Harry felt as though something was closing in upon him. His breathing seemed difficult again. “It means — me?” [...] “I am afraid,” said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, “that there is no doubt that it is you.”

(OotP, 823)

I just, found these two scenes awfully similar in tone when reading the one in Deathly Hallows last night.

In both Snape/Harry are in emotional turmoil after the most important person to them dies. Both feel like dying (Snape: "I wish I were dead", Hary: "then I don't want to be human"). Both shout at Dumbledore when he speaks all too calmly of things they don't want/need to hear at that moment.

And Dumbledore speaks calmly and coldly to both of them, revealing information he hid from them both (to Snape he tells about Voldemort's immortality, to Harry he tells about the Prophecy) before guilting them through their grief into what he needs them to do.

Now, I'm not exactly blaming him, because, from his position, he needs Snape as a spy and he needs Harry to be willing to do anything to kill Voldemort — to take Voldemort as his responsibility. Dumbledore needs these things to happen to have the best chance of completing his plan to defeat Voldemort.

I just, can't help but note how cold it is. How cold and manipulative Dumbledore can be when he feels he needs to be. Even as he explains his care for Harry as a flaw in his plan, he speaks calmly and simply. And he is right caring about Harry is a flaw, because he always planned for Harry to die. He knew since he saw the scar on Harry's forehead:

“I guessed, fifteen years ago,” said Dumbledore, “when I saw the scar upon your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.”

(OotP, 826)

And even if I think Dumbledore is honest in that he'd rather Harry wouldn't die, I don't think he cares for him as much as he says he does. In the same way, he's very cold towards Snape even years later when he tells him Harry must die. (I don't think Snape and Dumbledore are actually friends)

Idk, I just read the scene in DH with Snape and it really reminded me of the scene with Harry at the end of OotP.

[foxgloveinspace]

People jumping ship cause of the new masks is very ahhhh. Telling. Tbh.

[nixie-deangel]

Hi. I've never done this before, but I've been eagerly reading everything since weekend started.

So if it's okey for me to ask I would love to request 💔💔🔥🔥🔥🥹🥹 ( hope it's not to much. I'm totally hooked on all of them but writing down every single emoji felt a bit crazy 😅)

🥰🥰🥰🥰 Please know I am bestowing the gentlest kiss to your temple and giving you the biggest hug! It is absolutely okay! (and I won't be mad if you wanna send in more or others asks for my stories!) 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

💔 icemav break up / icedad

this is directly continuing from this ask!

“No! Of course not! But come on, Ice, you have to see-” “I don’t have to see shit,” Tom explodes, cutting Mav off before he can start trying to justify his, and Carole’s as well most likely, actions. “You hurt him. Do you get that? Does she get that? Bradley is here. He is living and breathing and you both are hurting him.” Scoffing, Mav rolled his eyes as Tom continued on. “Do you have any idea what your actions almost did? You both almost drove him away! I’ve had to stop Bradley from running off to do it all on his own three, three goddamn times! And I’m the only one who’s shown him even an ounce of support, Pete, and he still keeps trying to run off and do it all on his own because he thinks he can’t trust me!”

🔥 virgin jake - hangster

“You confused me,” Bradley blurts out. “You confused me and enticed me and I didn’t know what I was feeling. What I was meant to be feeling the first time I laid eyes upon you.” Snapping his mouth shut, he turns his gaze away from Jake to stare down at the floor. Scoffing, Jake huffs at his half thought out explanation. But before he could open his mouth to call him on it, Bradley continued on. “I was raised knowing I would have a courtesan. I knew what that all entailed,” he powered on. “But then…but then I saw you. I saw who would be mine and I lost my damn mind. I know I did. I broke tradition because I could not bear the thought of anyone but me guarding you until you were officially mine.” Jake flinched back, eyes going wide in surprise as he stared at Bradley. “What? What do you mean broke tradition"?”

🥺 chap2 of helper - a/b/o hangster

“Sweetheart, come here,” the voice calls, soft and soothing and like a balm to the raw nerve Jake’s worked himself up into being. “That’s right baby, I got you, okay? Just listen to me, okay, Jake?” He thinks he nods or maybe he mumbles out a yes or noise of agreement. He’s not sure, not really but what he does know is that suddenly he’s not pressed against the cold unyielding side of his tub or bathroom floor. Suddenly he’s pressed against warmth.  Wrapped up in it really. In warmth and love and feeling like he’s once again tethered to something. But that can’t be right, Jake thinks, because he’s not supposed to be wrapped up in warmth and love.  Because he doesn’t deserve that after what he did to Bradley.

Make Nixie Write This Weekend!

[ratatatastic]

"When you guys are playing and, like, we all got podcasts and there are big podcasts out there, you know, are going from series to series, and they're critiquing teams and what not—like, at the end, do you know who's chirping you? Do you pay attention to that shit? Do you know who's on your side? Do you know who's, you know, rooting against you? Do you guys pay attention to that kind-of stuff? I'm just curious." "Yeah, I think this might be the first podcast I've ever done—I'm not the biggest fan of podcasts to be honest. I think—I'm friends with that, you know, [Shane] O'Brien, and [Scottie] Upshall (2 out of the 3 cohosts of the Missin' Curfew podcast), I love those guys... so if they ask I would do it but... again they, I think—I think negativity flows through media so much that it just kind-of disgusts me and I want nothing to do with it to be honest. So I hate the negativity, I think it's crazy, I think negativity in media steers guys away from certain teams... it's like, 'Why do you want that?' right? So I don't know, I'm a huge fan of the positivity, finding the positives in players and not putting guys down especially in podcasts and stuff like that where it should be for the players, right? It should be a positive thing, something that we rally around. Especially as ex-players!" "Yeah! We're gonna pump your tires!" "That's it!" "Well, you still gotta be real though!" "No, I know!" "You know if you have a bad game—" "It's gotta be real! For sure!" "—You gotta be real! You can't fake out your audience either so it's still a business." "One hundred percent! One hundred percent, one hundred percent... and I get that but—Yeah, I mean, I saw all those Spittin' Chiclets guys all over Edmonton's bandwagon so..." "That really bothered you guys, eh? Like, I mean, you guys were paying attention to that. I mean, as evidence as well on what took place on the ice after the game... you guys weren't, like, fucking around, you were being serious, right? You guys—that really bothered you guys?" "Hundred percent." "What was it? Like, the most that bothered you about it? Just the fact that, 'Hey, you guys are rooting for them... why are you trying to celebrate with us?' I mean, was it—is it that simple?" "Exactly. Yeah, get the f—we won, get off... right? Get out of here. That's uh, yeah. I don't know, I don't want to be too controversial or anything like that. I'm a happy guy, I like everybody so... whatever." "They're all good dudes, man. Listen if they're into hockey and they're talking about hockey thats a positive one way or the other!" "Oh, they're growing the game! They're growing the game! Huge! And they're doing a great job and I've spoke with Biz [Paul Bissonnette] a few times and I know Whit [Ryan Whitney] (Cohosts of Spittin' Chiclets) and I've got no issues with any of 'em. Truly."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

[terry-the-insane]

Me tormenting the captive borrower with infodump rants

[normalmcguy]

I AM PLURAL I AM FRIENDLY I AM APPROACHABLE YOU CAN DM ME THAT'S WHAT THIS POST IS ABOUT. I AM BEFRIENDABLE, TRY IT

HELLO HELLO my name is Normal Guy because i don't care to publicly go by my source name and i kind of just didn't care to find a real name to replace that original placeholder, you can also call me Norm or Marty being that they're both short for Normal Guy.* pronouns wise, you can call me he or like if you really want it or they or actually pretty much whatever, mostly just that he/him stuff

i'm one of like 5 current hosts in my system and i'm like woah i just checked it turns out on this day i've turned 100 days old in this system that's actually crazy to me. i mean woah. anyways i'm a factive of an old old friend's fictive** which means i have a connection to a source we know like nothing about except what we learned through osmosis back when we were friends and so basically i picked up a lot of what is probably just some sect of fanon

i'm a HUGE bike guy like that's my main hobby i have to bike like every single time i front type thing, that's gonna be like. my 'get to know me' fact for this intro post. i have an E-bike that i love more than anything in this world it has a name you can dm me and ask. i say this both to create mystery and allure about myself and to provide an adequate conversation starter. because i'm so nice and all that.

i do my best not to get into discourse of most types, but real quick i wanna make it clear that i believe in and support endogenic systems and don't care to debate on that. in case that's something that would prevent you from reaching out or whatever, feel like i oughta make that one clear

*i'm sorry that bit's a lie, Marty is not actually short for normal guy. if you didnt know.

**i have the source in the tags i'm not putting that shit out in the open because it's like a whooole complex thing for me (i mean i have a good few friends outside of the system and literally not a single one knows my source. i have genuinely only ever shared my source with people within this system so you're gonna have to work (open the tags and read like 2 more lines of yapping) to see that one) also i'm not that connected to begin with just basic pseudomemories

[the-busy-ghost]

Alright uninformed rant time. It kind of bugs me that, when studying the Middle Ages, specifically in western Europe, it doesn’t seem to be a pre-requisite that you have to take some kind of “Basics of Mediaeval Catholic Doctrine in Everyday Practise” class. 

Obviously you can’t cover everything- we don’t necessarily need to understand the ins and outs of obscure theological arguments (just as your average mediaeval churchgoer probably didn’t need to), or the inner workings of the Great Schism(s), nor how apparently simple theological disputes could be influenced by political and social factors, and of course the Official Line From The Vatican has changed over the centuries (which is why I’ve seen even modern Catholics getting mixed up about something that happened eight centuries ago). And naturally there are going to be misconceptions no matter how much you try to clarify things for people, and regional/class/temporal variations on how people’s actual everyday beliefs were influenced by the church’s rules. 

But it would help if historians studying the Middle Ages, especially western Christendom, were all given a broadly similar training in a) what the official doctrine was at various points on certain important issues and b) how this might translate to what the average layman believed. Because it feels like you’re supposed to pick that up as you go along and even where there are books on the subject they’re not always entirely reliable either (for example, people citing books about how things worked specifically in England to apply to the whole of Europe) and you can’t ask a book a question if you’re confused about any particular point. 

I mean I don’t expect to be spoonfed but somehow I don’t think that I’m supposed to accumulate a half-assed religious education from, say, a 15th century nobleman who was probably more interested in translating chivalric romances and rebelling against the Crown than religion; an angry 16th century Protestant; a 12th century nun from some forgotten valley in the Alps; some footnotes spread out over half a dozen modern political histories of Scotland; and an episode of ‘In Our Time’ from 2009. 

But equally if you’re not a specialist in church history or theology, I’m not sure that it’s necessary to probe the murky depths of every minor theological point ever, and once you’ve started where does it end? 

Anyway this entirely uninformed rant brought to you by my encounter with a sixteenth century bishop who was supposedly writing a completely orthodox book to re-evangelise his flock and tempt them away from Protestantism, but who described the baptismal rite in a way that sounds decidedly sketchy, if not heretical. And rather than being able to engage with the text properly and get what I needed from it, I was instead left sitting there like:

And frankly I didn’t have the time to go down the rabbit hole that would inevitably open up if I tried to find out

[2aceofspades]

Don't you tee hee at us how daaarrreee! "No warning sign" is right, how daaaare yooouuu!!! Villain!Ace really knows how to pull at my void heartstrings D:

Don't ever stop tho omgggggg

~-- --- .-. ... . / .- -. --- -.

-- --- .-. ... ./.- -. --- -. -.-.-- -.-.--

Upon ~further~ analysis...mm...yeah...

I do in fact feel remorse for my heinous crimes. Like, goodness gracious...

This is really...um...messed up.

That didn't stop me from drawing more though, so...

[majortomwaits]

i'm sorry, i was possessed for the past... two or so hours, The American Friend in particular hit me like a bag of bricks, as you shall see soon