aka the minute he was Anakin again instead of Vader, Obi-Wan (and Yoda) was RIGHT there, softly smiling at him and welcoming him back to the light nobody touch me I can’t deal with this I’m not crying you’re crying
1. The National Anthem (S01E01) 2. The Waldo Moment (S02E03) 3. Shut Up and Dance (S03E03) 4. Fifteen Million Merits (S01E02) 5. White Bear (S02E02) 6. Playtest (S03E02) 7. Nosedive (S03E01) 8. Hated in the Nation (S03E06) 9. Men Against Fire (S03E05) 10. The Entire History of You (S01E03) 11. San Junipero (S03E04) 12. Be Right Back (S02E01) 13. White Christmas (S02E04)
12x11 “Regarding Dean” “My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Mary Winchester is my mom and Cas… Cas is my best friend…”
I’m sure this scene has been giffed and edited about a million times by now and really no one needs it another time on their dash, but I needed to express just how amazing Jensen’s acting here was, how you could see how the knowledge is slipping from Dean’s mind and how he desperately tries to grip it but the faster he holds on to it the more it slips away. It is actually a really sad metaphor for Dean’s entire life. ;____; How he tries to hold his family together, afraid of ending up alone and then gets to hear “everybody leaves you, Dean”. Here even Dean is leaving Dean kind of and it’s just…. ;______;
That said, I especially adored this scene, because it has been such a recurring stylstic device over the past seasons with Dean and the mirror shots. From “9x23 “Do You Believe in Miracles” when he looks at himself in the mirror when he is locked up after he cuts Gadreel and tries to assess who he is and what is happening to him to 10x17 “Inside Man” where we see Dean wash his hands after being the pool shark at the bar and he catches himself flash black eyes for a second or the most memorable last mirror scene (these are really just a handful of incidents the mirror shots have been extensively used throughout the MoC arc) moment in 10x23 “Brother’s Keeper” when Dean desperately seems to wash his hands clean looks into the mirror and sees Cas and Rudy staring back at him confronting him with what he did and what he has become. This week’s mirror moment can be seen perfectly in line with all of these other instances of mirror shots exploring the issue of identity. Countless times we have seen Dean try and touch base and asess who he is by looking at himself in the mirror and often times not liking what/who look back at him. But at least before his reflection wasn’t a blank as it is now.
So when Dean is looking into the mirror and actually directly into the camera it reads like a cry for help, he’s trying to piece together who he is by looking at himself, but this person who is looking back can’t provide any stability, may well be a stranger and has just as little knowledge who the person is that is refelected in there. After all he cannot even remember his name. And names… names hold power. But Dean lost everything, his name, himself, his identity. And yes, that is scary as hell.
“It all just disappears doesn’t it? Everything you are, gone in a moment like breath on a mirror.
Any moment now, he’s a coming, The Doctor and I always will be. But times change and so must I. We all change, when you think about it.
We are all different people all through our lives and that’s okay, that’s good you’ve got to keep moving so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.
I will not forget one line of this, not one day, I swear. I will always remember when The Doctor was me…”
What do you think of an imagine where the reader is Adam’s favorite character
in a book, who he asks to see in the mirror at least once a day, slowly falling
in love with her?
Aaaaaaaah! <3 C U T E
I think I’m going to make this into a series? Someone please give me feedback?
“It’s getting late, my little prince.” The
kind queen chided her son as he sat upright in the bed. “I’m afraid it’s time
for you to sleep now.”
“One more story! Please!” The young boy
begged eagerly. After thinking for a long moment, the queen met the prince’s
gaze. His eyes were sweet and blue, full on innocence. She sighed.
“All right, one more.
And then, you must sleep. You have a big day ahead, you know.” Her smile was
soft as she searched the small shelf in Adam’s room. What was there here that
she hadn’t read to him yet? And then she found it.
It was an old book. One she hadn’t laid
eyes on since she was at least a teenager. It had been a favorite of hers. The
Girl Made of Starlight.
“Here’s one.” The queen sat down in the
chair beside Adam’s bed. “I haven’t seen this book in a very long time.”
“Where was it?”
“Hiding, I suppose. Waiting for the right
moment to make itself known. But nevertheless, the sooner we finish, the sooner
you’ll be asleep.” She took a breath and opened the front cover. “Once, in the
Kingdom of the Sun, there was a girl. To everyone around her, she appeared
ordinary, boring and quaint. And as she grew up surrounded people who thought
of her as nothing but standard, she began to believe that ordinary was all she
ever was, all she could ever be. But that was not the case.”
“What was she?” Adam practically bounced
“Eager tonight, are we?” the queen smiled.
“(Y/N) was truly more than just the daughter of the miller. She was a child of
After reading a large portion of the book,
the queen decided that it was getting far too late for her little prince to be
awake given the events waiting for him the following day. So, despite his many,
many protests, the queen placed a bookmark in her treasured favorite and put it
on the shelf for another night.
But the queen never got to finish her
She soon fell to illness and became too
sick to read. Soon after, she was gone. And as the kingdom grieved, the king
became twisted. Her death was the end of him. And so was it the end of the Adam
that was hopeful, the Adam that was kind.
Years later, when Adam had reached
adulthood, came the curse that twisted him into an enormous, fearsome beast.
The story of the star girl was long-forgotten. Adam spent years in isolation,
wallowing in his misery. His selfishness had done this, his vanity. He had
taken so much pride in his looks, in the beauty of the things he owned, and now
that it was gone, he felt as though he had nothing.
As time passed, Adam ventured from his West
Wing more and more. He didn’t want to gaze upon the cursed rose any more than
he had to. It was only a reminder of his mistakes, of the grim deadline that
hung over his head. The library became a refuge, a place where he could escape.
The book the Enchantress had given him sat idle on his shelf, and instead, he
found a home in literature. As he searched the shelf, something fell and hit
the floor with a soft thud. He looked down, and there it was: The Girl Made of
Adam slowly bent down and picked up the
book with his massive paws. He brushed off the cover, and his blue eyes
widened. Thoughts of his mother came rushing back to the surface. He was
tempted to put the book back, to forget he had ever found it, but instead, he
carried it over to the couch and began to read it.
Inside the pages of the book waited the
story of (Y/N), the miller’s daughter, who was just about to discover she was
not as normal as she had been raised to believe.
~Losing her mother had changed (Y/N). Every
day, the glimmering star that hung around her neck only served as a reminder of
the magnificent woman that had left her daughter behind. Her mother’s words
were ingrained in her mind. With her last dying breaths, she had put the
necklace around (Y/N)’s neck.
“Remember that there is light in
everybody.” Her lips pulled into a frail smile as her husband and daughter sat
beside her in tears. “And there is light in you. You don’t know it yet, but you
will. No matter where you go, no matter how far you travel, I will always be
Iridessa squeezed (Y/N)’s hand as the life
in her began to fade.
“You are a child of the stars. A beautiful
girl with more power than you know.” She pressed a finger to the center of her
chest and whispered a final goodbye as the life left her eyes. “I believe in
Adam took a deep breath and adjusted himself
on the soft couch that sat beside the hearth. He had a feeling he would be
there for a while.
Over the course of the week Adam had read
the book at least twice a day, only taking brief breaks for meals and sleep. He
was a man obsessed. He didn’t know why, but of all of the books in the library,
this one had captured his attention better than anything he had ever read.
After finishing it for the tenth time, a
strange idea occurred to him as he brushed past the enchanted rose that had
doomed him to this fate, the wretched timer, an eternal reminder that his day
was coming. Then, he would be stuck like this forever. Beside the rose sat the
Enchantress’ mirror. The moment his eyes settled on it, he reached out for it.
He took a deep breath. This was stupid.
This was a dumb idea. It would never work.
But what if?
“Show me…show me the girl made of
The surface of the mirror rippled, and then
there she was, just as the book had described. Her hair had flooded with white,
and her silver eyes shone like stars. Her cloak of the sky was wrapped around
her shoulders, and the necklace her mother had given her hung around her neck.
She was running. From what, he didn’t know,
but at the sight of her, after watching her and realizing she was real…or at
least, she was real somewhere, he
almost dropped the mirror. He took a long, labored breath. She was real. She
was actually real. And she needed help.
Days passed. Adam tried not to watch her
too often, but it was hard not to. She was real. She existed, and he couldn’t
shake the feeling that there was someone or something after her. She always
seemed to be rushed. She had quick meals in little taverns, and took cautious
sleeps at haphazard inns. She carried very little and showed her face to very
few, most often keeping hidden in her large cloak of the sky.
With her, she kept very few things. Aside
from her cloak and necklace, all she had with her was a map, a worn leather
book of stories, and a pouch of coins. There was something about the book with
her. Adam knew it was important to her, but he didn’t know why.
Perhaps it was why someone was chasing her.
Again, I kind of want to do a series on this, so feedback would be awesome. I love you guys <3
Lauren isn’t expecting much from her twenty second
birthday. All the important milestones had already passed, all of them leaving
her empty handed. No Hogwarts letter had arrived on her eleventh birthday, no
mermaid tail had appeared on her thirteenth. The enormously prophetic sixteenth
year – the year famously known for having destinies foretold, for being
kidnapped by gods, for falling into a ridiculous love triangle – had come and gone
with nothing of note. The most magical part of her twenty first birthday had
been that’d she’d manage to consume that amount of alcohol without dying
No grand epics begin on the day of someone’s twenty
This is because of those unlucky enough to be chosen
at this tender age – most don’t ever make it back.
Dead men tell no tales, after all.
(Dead women do. The bones and bubbling corpses of
hundreds of daring, unfortunate women are screaming warnings and fury at the
next girl to join their ranks of the lost and forgotten.
But no one listens to a woman’s screaming.
No one will listen to your screaming either.
Sorry, dear. )
She wakes up and goes to the bathroom to get ready
for the day.
This is a hasty decision, of course, although she
does not know it at the time.
This may be her last morning. If she’d known, maybe
she would have savored it. Snuggled into her warm sheets, pressed her face into
the softness of her pillow, pulled the comforter about her bare shoulders, the
most instinctual and simple of comforts.
But then again. Maybe not.
There is also an instinctual, twisted pleasure in
ripping off the bandaid.
One time Fry races into his and Bender’s apartment, sneakers skidding on the floor as he runs into the bathroom, and hastily opens the door only to almost pee himself (he’s already painfully held it in for hours now) as Bender shrieks and slams the door so harshly it falls off of it’s hinges at the top.
Neither of them make a sound for a moment, and after checking that he didn’t actually pee his pants, Fry tentatively opens the door. And there is Bender, trying to struggle out of one of his spare red jackets , wearing a similar face to the one he wears when the police are about to get him. Fry knows that face to usually mean he needs to run, but he doesn’t think he needs to run right now.
Bender looks up at Fry from between the buttons (which are askew) with wide optics and his arms tangled in the red sleeves over his head. They both pause, and Fry thinks that if Bender needed to breath he would have stopped then, either out of shock or want to die of embarrassment. Fry isn’t really sure what he should be feeling in this moment, but finds himself some place in-between really really happy to find Bender in his jacket for whatever reason and really really blushy. Also he really really has to pee.
He settles for praying that his face isn’t as red as his hair and slowly walking over to the still still - Ha, still still - robot, vaguely wondering if Bender could malfunction and if he’d have to carry him somewhere to get fixed. Fry honestly couldn’t carry Bender, he’d have to call Leela, she’s probably the only one that was strong enough, her biceps are huge. Fry wishes his biceps were that huge, then he could give Bender piggy back rides and hold him in his arms. Fry shakes his head, that was beside the point, whatever the point was.
Fry coughs awkwardly, looking at the dirty shower curtain behind them - Oh, there’s the pepperoni he thought fall in the drain when he was eating pizza in the shower, he’ll have to eat that later - as he gently pulls Bender’s arms down and idly rebuttons the shirt for him. His hands end up resting on Bender’s chest, fingers pitter-pattering in a nervous and stuttered rhythm. Fry hums, this feels nice.
Fry looks up to the mirror to find Bender looking intensely at him and jumps a little, pulls his hands back to rest by his sides. Fry doesn’t really know what’s he’s doing, but he never knows what he’s doing or supposed to be doing, so he doesn’t really care anyway.
Fry bounces on the balls of his feet and watches the lines of Bender’s mouth guard move listlessly, no sound coming out, and suddenly feels an urgent need to reassure Bender that they were cool.
Fry coughs again and steps back, one hand tangling in his bright hair and the other shoved deep into his pocket, fingers playing with the lint there. He looks away from Bender,
“You can, uh,” Fry scratches his head and tries again, says too loudly and too rushed, “Feel free to keep the jacket, Bender! I have, like, twenty hundred of them, so…”
Fry trails off, thinking that was probably a good point to end the conversation. He nods to himself in congratulations, happy he didn’t say anything weird or stupid, and reaches behind himself around to open the door behind him. He fumbles a bit with the doorknob, its a little lower then he’s used to with the door being off a hinge as it was, and looks over his shoulder to see Bender still has his optics locked on his. The robot still hasn’t made a sound.
“Um…” Fry’s breath catches a bit and he gives Bender a once over without thinking, eyes lingering over the way his jacket stretches over Bender’s round shoulders. They kind of makes Fry think of a trashcan, but an attractive one. Not that Bender’s a trashcan, or that Fry’s attracted to trashcans, because he’s not, Bender just- looks really good all the time. If he was a trashcan Fry’s sure he would be an attractive one, Bender could probably be an attractive anything if he tried. Again, not that Fry’s attracted to trashcans. Fry shakes his head and starts over,
“You look really good in it, too! The red really brings out your, uh, metal or something.”
Fry falters and turns back around quickly, hand rattling the doorknob, “Anyway, I’m just gonna-” he bolts before Bender can respond.
Fry groans as he runs, why did he have to go and say something weird? He was doing so good! Now he has to find somewhere else to pee before his bladder erupts.
Fry runs past the kitchen before skidding to a stop, turning around, and looks from the kitchen sink, to the direction of the bathroom, and back again… Are there laws in the future against peeing in the kitchen sink?