readingwrm - Tumblr blog

[readingwrm]

Lily Evans

I got bored and wrote a thing:: Young Lily before hogwarts. (ignore all formatting and spelling problems I won't be fixing it)

Lily Evans has always been a small child in comparison to her straight backed, well groomed sister Petunia. Even with the few inches of height she managed to gain from her rather worn down mary jane school shoes, she found herself bouncing onto the tips of her toes as they walked side by side down the small street from school. The singular lane of road lead through the entirety of the town and, despite frequently been entirely empty, was Lily’s only looking glass into the outside world. Her tiny hands wrung around the leather straps of her school bag and skirt flew harshly against her knees in the frosty afternoon winds as she intently watched, softly smiling, at each car speeding past. She wondered how many of them were families on their way to relatives for christmas and how many were people returning back after work in the city. She imagined a different life for all of them, making accents in her head and sometimes finding ideas so crazy she giggled and earnt a disaproving glare from her sister. Lily often dreamt of what it would be like to live in London. Were people really were always busy and was the train really impossible to catch on time because of the always present crowds? Petunia often endevoured to squash those thoughts. She would scold Lily for gatting caught in a ‘stupid prentend world’.

The sky grew ever darker as they stepped through the old wooden doorway to a tiny bakery on the last corner of the town. A few students from the richer school had already developed a group which consumed nearly the entire room bar the few stand alone desplays of fresh bread and wildflower arangements. As Lily walked past, the flowers seemed to bend towards her, shifting in hue to mimic a beautiful summer sunset of oranges and reds. She smiled and stalled slightly to smell the changing cornflowers before scrambling the three steps to the counter with her frowning sister. ”Mother told you not to do that anymore, It’s weird,” Petunia mumbled in the always disaproving tone Lily had become used to. She said nothing in response, glanding down to her fidgeting feet, but flushed subtly pink across the tip of her nose. Petunia wasn’t being honest, and lily knew that. Their mother would never say something like that about them. In fact, when Lily had been younger and the flowers had bloomed in the flower pots lining the kitchen window she had smiled and kissed her head muttering a soft “I knew you were special” despite how odd the occurance had been. Her red hair fell in curtains around her face as the baker approached with a friendly smile half hidden behind a grey stripped mustache. He was a very round man who wore a white teeshirt always coated in smudges of chocolate and offered small sections of whatever his newest pastry was to students passing by in the mornings. ”Good afternoon ladies, what can I do for ya?” Despite the constant wheeze behind his lungs and sweat across his forehead from the overheated ovens, his voice sounded like that of a narrator constantly on the edge of telling a grand story. ”Just bread please,” Petunia said, holding out a rattaling collection of change, “and a chocolate croissant.” The man nodded, turning in a heavy circle before he had even reached the counter to the half stocked shelves which lined the space behind him. He shoveled a pale loaf of bread into a paper bag and then swiped a croissant from the glass display just next to Lily. She studied the sweets intently, determining what looked the best between a rather flat slice of chocolate covered busicut crum and slice after slice of berry oozing pie. The orange lighting made the crusts shine and made her stomache grumble lowly.

They left soon after, making their way across a dew drop covered field that wet the edges of her frilly white socks and ends of her heavy grey skirt. It was a slow walk, interrupted by Petunia deciding to tear the delicious croissant in two and share it with Lily. The pastry was so fluffy and light it nearly melted in their mouths as they ate, still continuing their walk through an open gate into the massive backyard to ther house. The chocolate covered Lily’s face and hands by the time they reached the door making Petunia’s eyebrows crease and mouth turn to a slim line, yet she said nothing and instead finished her own bite before dusting the crumbs away and sliding inside. The house was by no means large, yet it was nearly twice the size of what Lily had heard most city buildings were. The outside was a mixture of white plaster covered brick and exposed support beams splintered and wonky from the constantly dreadful weather. The wooden framed windows flooded with orange light into the fast approaching night and the door behind Lily as she entered caught a breeze before slamming shut which made the small panel of floral stained glass rattle. They entered into the small kitchen space, their shoes scuffing across the aged yellow tiling as their mother came racing from the other room. She was a pretty woman with red hair deeper in tone than Lily’s and more freckles dusted across her face yet they looked as if they could have been twins. She had Petunia’s eyes, though that was the only sign that the two were at all related. ”Last day of school hey girls,” she smiled and whistled out in her singsong voice. They both nodded, hugging their mother tight. ”Free from school, free from the horrid canteen food, free from homework,” she smiled, ruffling both girls hair. She always looked so loving and kind, her eyes always soft and mouth never quirked any way but into a smile.

[readingwrm]

the marauders fandom has fucked me up for real, i was watching a video of Bowie singing live all the young dudes and i've just started crying out of nowhere

[readingwrm]

im just like remus lupin fr (has scoliosis, a bad hip, bad knees, nicotine adict, gay, has a scar on their nose, tea supremacist)

[readingwrm]

remus lupin calls sirius black princess send tweet

[readingwrm]

OSCAR ISAAC + 🤨

[readingwrm]

bathroom floor

marc spector x reader

summary: you wake up just to find the spot besides you empty. marc never leaves without saying goodbye but when you find him sitting on the floor crying, you understand it all.

warnings: wendy spector (this b*tch), insinuations to marc's past, marc being real sad and insecure, nightmares, angst

tags: just reader being a sweetheart to marc and comforting him and giving him all the love he deserves :)

word count: 0.9k

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!!

You sat up against the headboard and sighed. You rubbed your eyes frantically before pinching the bridge of your nose. Ugh. Middle of the night thirsts. That dry feeling in the back of your throat, your whole mouth feeling like an egyptian desert. You grabbed the bottle from your nightstand and let the unpleasant feeling go away. Putting the bottle back to where it belonged, you frowned when you turned to cuddle your boyfriend back to sleep and realized you wouldn't be able to simply because he wasn't there. Not being fully awake and needing some clarity, you ran your hand through the bedsheets, only to find the spot next to you indeed empty.

When Marc left for missions for Khonshu, he usually informed you he would leave in the middle of the night. He would always tell you goodbye and kiss you like his life depended on it. He would never leave you like that, even if it was an emergency, so this was unusual.

You sat on the edge of the bed and felt a shiver run down your spine. The night was fresh even from the inside and you wondered where Marc had gone to, and if he was out there in the cold. You got up and grabbed one of his hoodies, put it on and felt a bit of relief when you could smell his scent on you.

You got out of your shared bedroom and searched for him, and you stopped when you saw him in the bathroom. The light wasn't on, you could only distinguish his shadow. He was sat on the floor, his back against the bathtub and his head buried between his knees. You quietly walked to him, not wanting to scare him. He was crying silently, and you could already guess what this was all about. He probably had a nightmare about his mother and it probably felt too real.

You kneeled next to him and gently stroke his back. He let out a loud sob when he realized you were here, you knew how much he hated to cry and you knew how much more he did when it was in front of you.

"Marc baby" you whispered quietly, rubbing small circles on his back to try to ground him a little. "Nightmare again ?" His head was still between his knees but you felt him nod. "I'm so sorry baby. It's so unfair she keeps on haunting you like that" you said sliding your hand to his neck, gently running your hand through his hair to calm him down.

"Sorry I woke you up" he croaked out between his sobs.

"You didn't. I just wanted water. And even if you did that doesn't matter. I don't want you moping around on your own" you said, laying your head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about your nightmare ?"

"No not really" it was expected. Marc wasn't a man of words, and you knew all of this thing with his mother was really hard on him. It had taken years for him to tell you the whole story and it was a whole night of tears and you trying to comfort him. "She will never give me peace" he muttered under his breath loud enough for you to hear it.

The corners of your mouth turned downwards. You hated to see him in so much pain, and it wasn't really something you could fix.

"You will find peace otherwise" you said planting small kisses in the crook of his neck. "This is why Steven and Jake are here. This is why I am here"

He cleared his throat lightly "You're gonna leave eventually." he said, almost angrily. "I don't deserve nice things, she was right"

You left his side to face him. "Marc, my love, look at me" you said taking his hands in yours. "Please"

He slowly dug his head out of his knees and faced you. His hair was a mess and his eyes were blood shot and glossy from all the tears that had been spilled. You had never seen him look so tired and worn out.

"I am not leaving you. You are the love of my life, why would I ever leave you ?" you asked rhetorically, letting one of his hands go to run yours through his hair.

"Because I am psychotic and crazy and there are two other men living inside of me and I kill people for a living. Seriously, try telling this to your family" he said chuckling sarcastically, a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I like my men like that" you said wiping the tears away with your thumb, smiling at him.

He weakly smiled back at you, pursing his lips to avoid letting out a sob.

"Thank you for being here and putting up with me" he said nodding, closing his eyes.

"It's nothing, really." you say bringing his knuckles to your lips.

"I'd rather have you getting a nice night of sleep than having to deal with me on the bathroom floor" he whispered.

"I can stay here all night long. You are worth thousands of hours of sleep" you said stroking the top of his hand. "And the bathroom floor happens to be pretty comfortable sooo" you said shrugging.

He smiled at you, a small but sincere smile. You smiled back at him and took him in your arms.

"I love you" he croaked out against your shoulder.

"I love you too Marc. It was just a bad dream. I won't let anyone hurt you" you whispered against his neck.

You were determined to stay here with him for hours if it was what you had to do to help him feel better.

[readingwrm]

Moon Dividers - Purple

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requested by @moonydrops

Dividers List

[readingwrm]

i adore steven but he looks like he could not take care of house plants for the life of him

[readingwrm]

hey y'all, currently accepting volunteers to help me go to the realm of the Duat to save steven, you will be provided with a baseball bat and your choice of blue or white hospital wear, however, you must bring your own trauma

i repeat, trauma will not be provided at recruitment (no guarantees about anywhere else), you must bring your own

can't wait to see you at the gates of Anubis!

[readingwrm]

Hey, so Doctor Harrow seemed to be partially aware / sentient towards the end there, and so I was wondering what you think of the theory that he’s a factive alter based on Harrow? Moon Knight has been depicted as having plenty of those in the comics in the past, from a Khonshu alter who thinks he’s Khonshu, to an Echo alter (the deaf girl from Hawkeye) who believes she’s deaf — they would be interesting to address.

OMG yes. SPOILERS

I’m assuming that you mean while they are in the afterlife and his feet are bleeding and stuff!? So my opinion is: 

- It is 1000% possible because an alter could have split or formed due to the trauma related to the entire thing which makes sense BC WHAT THE FUCK ACTUALLY HAPPENED LIKE IMAGINE IT WAS YOU?? 

- It would be so interesting to rewatch the episode and look at it as he is another alter who is just as confused? or somewhat afraid of the situation with the whole death thing. 

My issue is: 

I feel like it was more the visual form of Marc & co’s doubt and denial towards their DID or even death. He is constantly trying to convince them something else is happening and i mean, it could be that he is another alter (persecutor or even a form of protecting from reality). BUT he seemed entirely convinced it was a hospital and he never moved from his office. We also saw other characters and under this theory it would suggest that they too were alters.  I think that it would be a really cool reference to the comics and entirely possible but maybe too deep for the limited show time to really explore?  I think if and WHEN?!!!! they do a season two it would be cool to see them show more of this if this is what happened.  ALTERNATIVELY! If you mean the end scene where Jake is formally introduced .. I think that is just real world Harrow who is maybe slowly dying already. The cup of sand turning into water or poorly mixed milo (lmao) is kind of a hint to that I think, or that he is already transitioning to the after world because taweret may have known he was coming or blah blah many reasons and this post is very long but..  THIS IS A REALLY COOL TAKE AND ALSO THANK YOU FOR ASKING MWAH MWAH I LOVE YOU!? <3 

[readingwrm]

DID,  JAKE LOCKLEY, AND MOON KNIGHT

So i have seen people saying that Jake is the representation of a murder alter that the show had avoided until the last episode and I want to comment on that because... i can hah. TW/CW: Mentions of murder or ab*ser introject alters. A general rant :)

There is a chance Jake is a murder alter and just something evil, but i think there are a few points to consider. 1 - Khonshu is ordering Jake to do these things, it is not as if he is going through life deciding to kill because he just wants to.

2 - Jake is, from what i can tell, meant to be the split off parts of Marc that he viewed as too bad or dark. There are alters like this. There are alters that are introjects of abusers or twisted versions of a person as something evil. 3- WE DO NOT KNOW JAKE AT ALL YET. So far, we have seen his in a role that i would describe as physical protector. He has fronted only when Marc has been in enough danger to warrant full on life risk. 4- I think because of this it is fair to draw a conclusion that violence and ‘murder’ is not just some fun trigger for him (positive trigger). He is quite clearly there for emergency situations, something like a security guard or (in a kind of weird obscure reference) a totem in minecraft. CONCLUSION: WE CANNOT CALL JAKE A MURDER ALTER JUST BECAUSE HE HAS BEEN ASSOCIATED WITH VIOLENCE AND SEEMS TO NOT BE IMPACTED IN A NEGATIVE WAY BY IT. KHONSHU IS ORDERING HIM AND HE IS A VERSION OF MARC THAT WAS PROBABLY CREATED THROUGH HIS MUM CALLING HIM A MURDERER. Please don’t go around assuming or casting nets because it will hurt people. The representation has not been perfect but it has been FAR FAR better than most. Think of split where most people get their first understanding. This show is massive for DID and OSDD because it shows them as the hero, shows the struggle and memory gaps and life interference.  We also can’t excuse behaviour for one alter but criticise it for another.  just because one is more digestible and easy to understand does not mean we need to automatically stereotype Jake, at the start some of us through Marc was just some murder alter but then we got context and information.  For my relevance in this:  - i experience heavy dissociation 

- I have alters and other similar things :))) kinda epic ;( 

- I spent my entire life for 2-4 years researching and learning about all of this out of pure interest

[readingwrm]

You know episode 5 was bad when bitches on tiktok are putting ep 5 TW/CW before the video even starts 💀

Fuck depression and bodily harm, episode 5 is the real trigger / j 😔😔💅

[readingwrm]

It is already everyone’s problem …

If I don’t get my Steven with a V back soon I’m going to make it everyone’s problem.

[readingwrm]

Y/N: Marc and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Steven: *Sighing* What did Marc do?

Y/N: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Marc: Who wants a steering wheel?

[readingwrm]

moon knight was supposed to be my funny haha Egyptian mythology superhero show not an eternal source of pain and suffering

[readingwrm]

In the Field of Reeds - Marc Spector

word count: 1.8k  SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS THIS IS JUST A RAN FIC ABOUT THE EPISODE IM NOT SORRY :( FUCK  Summary: I am so hurt by the last episode of moon knight im genuinely impacted in such a fucking fundamental way. SO Marc gets to the field of reeds but at what cost and with how much trauma brought up? 

Idea: marc reaches the field of reeds but the trauma isn’t as healed as he thought.

Around him the horizon was glowing with orange hues of too bright sun. It had been hours, he thought, but truly he had no idea. When the sun was ever still and stuck in place, how were you meant to know? It’s not like he brought his phone to the afterlife and even if he had, the stupid thing would have been thrown against the ground and smashed by now. The field around him spanned for miles, he knew because he had already ran in every direction screaming until he coughed up blood and spit. Even the trees in the distance had seemed to shrink away the closer he got to where they had been before. Dry reeds and blades of old grass were scratching his arms through his thin shirt, but it was comforting. He wished that he had a knife. He wanted to stab the stupid hippo that brought them here, then harrow for his mind games, and then himself. God he wanted to die. But he was dead now, wasn’t he? How much better could living really be if even in death he was going crazy. He had always been crazy. Where was Steven? Somewhere in the sand? Wondering why no one came back for him? Why he was left in the sand like some toy, used and abused then thrown out when he was no longer needed. Because that’s how he had treated him wasn’t it? Like some emotional shield to hide from life. Like some coward too scared to just face what he truly deserved.

It was his fault wasn’t it? His brother, Layla’s dad, the hundreds of other he’s been convinced deserved the brutal ways he’d killed them, … Steven. Even his mum. He’s ruined his mother’s life, killed her son, made her into a monster, torn her marriage apart, then ran away because she reacted as anyone should. She was mad and she had the right. Didn’t she? She was meant to scream at him. She was meant to beat him until he begged for death, crawling across the floor, half stripped of his clothes that had either been torn by his own desperately clawing hands as he tried to escape or discarded by his mother before she began. He was meant to beg and beg as he mustered every ounce of strength in his child body to shift even just a centimeter and prevent the blows from landing in the same place over and over.

Why did it have to be a belt?

His hand searched across his skin and found each scar. A thick line of jagged purple ran from his shoulder blade to his waist and ached when he dug his fingers into the uneven surface. Even now, he felt the way the thick leather broke through his skin, the way the blood had poured onto the floor like it was as heavy as lead. The way his head had dropped to the ground and arms had given out from the pain that bloomed like fire through his body. The scream that ripped through his throat in the same way the belt had his skin. It had sounded distant, even now as it was ringing through the deadly still field it seemed miles away. He hadn’t realised he’d been screaming.

There were strings of blood and snot bleeding down his face and mixing with the violent sobs that shook his body. Why did he kill Steven? That’s what his mother would have said. You killed him. You kill everyone around you, Marc. Do you know how much misery you cause or is it just so natural that you don’t even have to think? Now you’re crying? You’re such a fucking over dramatic princess. Aren’t you meant to be my son? Or did you drown him too? All you do is drown people, you suffocate them. You’re like a parasite. You are the reason nobody ever stays long enough. You are too fucked up, too fucking dangerous to risk caring for. Look what happened to Steven when he cared? Hm, Marc? Did you want that?

His skin was burning in harsh lines as if he was being beaten as he screamed into the nothing. The sun was still bright but it seemed to mock him now. The rays of gold laughed as they hit his skin and snickered at how unworthy he was. He could feel hands on him, like hot coals being dropped from the sky, but there was no one around. He was being pulled in thousands of directions all at once. Angels who wanted to know what went so wrong in humanity that it produces somebody like him, demons who wanted to how he had become so adaptive and brilliant at torturing innocent souls, even god himself who wished to punish him personally. It was Steven who deserved to be here. It was Steven that could tell him how to escape and get back to the living. It was always Steven, wasn’t it? He couldn’t feel his body anymore and he felt like he was shrinking and growing at the same time. Like his body was torn between the past and what could have been if he lived the life Steven was meant to have. His vision was shaking but he could barely see anyway. He was so cold. His bones felt like they were freezing over and turning to brittle ice shards waiting to pierce through his skin. He wished they would. He wanted to know the pain again, see the blood pour out of him and know that it was nearly over. 

Fuck, he kept forgetting he was really dead. His nails dug into his cheeks and he held his face like it would stop him from falling apart. He was squeezing tight enough to feel his bones shift under his palms and the insides of his cheeks ache as they pressed against his teeth. They left softly bleeding crescent moons on his blotchy cheek bones when he pulled them away and slammed them into the ground. He pounded and pounded, bones crunching under the pressure of his entire body beating the ground. He knew why his mother enjoyed it so much now. It was like his soul was tearing away from his body and slamming with his punches into the breaking dry dirt. It was cracking, shifting, and jumping every time he threw another hit. His knuckles were turning black and splitting open but there was no pain. Of course there was no pain. He was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

He was dead and he killed his brother and steven and layla by now who was either drowning in the small pool of water his body had landed in or crumpled on the floor only meters away shot one hundred times. Of course he killed her as well. He let out a bitter laugh for the winds to carry away. “FUCK,” he screamed through the gritty inhaled dirt lining his throat. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK,” he cried over and over, turning the punches to his legs and then clawing at his arms. His nails were caked in mud made from his blood and tears and leaving lined of dirt behind everytime he scratched to peel his skin off. His body felt so wrong. Because it wasn’t really his was it? It was a life he fucked up, it was all his fault.

He could see his mother’s face as she said it. She was sat shivering and torn apart at her son’s funeral. He could see the tissue covered in running mascara shaking in her hand as she stared at him across the room. The air had gone still and then violently too hot too quick as she raised a finger at him. Her hands shook as her voice did before she screamed, “This is all your fault,” at him. He was nine, nine.. not double digits or capable of critical thought. He would never have drowned his brother if he was… or maybe he wanted to.

Maybe there was some fucked up part of his brain that knew it was a bad idea to run giggling into the narrow caves as the storms picked up. Maybe some sick part of him knew it would fill up with water before they could escape, and maybe some part of him wanted to watch his brother as he gasped but only managed to gulp in more water. His fists landed in his legs and dirt harder and harder, punches bringing themselves down from over his head like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He had wanted to see his brother’s petrified eyes and blue face, hadn’t he? He wanted to see the way his limbs had gone limp, the way his body had given out in his grasp as he desperately fought to make it out alive. So selfish, selfish, selfish.

Steven had died the same way. Mid scream, mid trying to run back to Marc, mid way through his life. “FUCK.” Steven had made it only two steps before he was sucked down into the sand, knees hitting and jolting his body as Marc had watched on only yelling for help. Who would help him?

Why hadn’t Steven just let him be dragged away? He could see the smile Steven would have had with the knowledge he was rid of Marc forever. He knew the way Steven’s eyes would have lit up the moment they…. he… landed in the field of reeds. He knew he would still be searching around now, acting as if every blade of grass was a holy object to be treasured and worshiped. What had he done? Beaten the ground like it owed him anything? Treated the life they’d had like a stupid chore? He was too fucking tired for this.

“All my fault, all my fault,” he muttered when he eventually collapsed in on himself and curled on the destroyed ground. His voice was hoarse, rough, and gravelly. He was barely audible above the sound of his body shaking and winds sweeping over the hellscape around him. He was worthless. He had no weapons, no plan, no way to fight his way out of it. He had no normalcy anymore… not without Steven, not without his life, not without his wife or stupid fish that kept dying or … he had nothing anymore. He was nothing anymore. He was dead, and that was all he ever would be. Forever, he would be stuck on the ground.