Prodby-error - Silver Bullet

2025 carat revival : dynamics week 'this road is beautiful, because I have you walking beside me' no one loves seventeen more than seventeen loves each other🤍

On the edge of everything

Request: “Can you do an imagine where the reader keeps trying to leave neverland and pan wont let her because shes his and he actually loves her.”

“I hope you will enjoy this! It is a little dark… but yeah, enjoy!^^” - Tiger Lily <3

On the edge of everything

“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone this way…” You muttered to yourself eying the tall mountain rising over you, a dark gloomy sky behind it. The trees are towering above you, and you keep looking over your shoulder, making sure that no one were following you. There was a cliff, a special one that stopped abruptly and led to the deepest grounds. It is said that if you jumped down you would pass into another world. There was a portal, but you could miss it. Now after having tried to make the shadow take you home, but then being caught by Peter and pulled to the ground, having tried to make a trade with a mermaid but then she was nearly killed by Peter’s arrow. You could say that your chances had run out, there was only one left. But why are you leaving Neverland? Neverland was amazing, full of adventures and never-ending quests and journeys. There were dangers, but for a person liking this freedom and liking to test itself, well Neverland would be perfect. You had just fallen in the worst traps of all. You had fallen in love with Peter Pan. He did talk to you at times and take you on quests together with some lost boys, but then that was it. Whenever you dared to walk over and talk to him he had other plans that were more important. You felt alone and you felt stupid. Why did your heart only see him when he never even glanced at you? Still you couldn’t help but feel confused. Peter had personally stopped you from leaving every time, the first time he pinned you to the ground. “Where do you think you’re going?” He had asked, voice laced with anger. “Are you trying to leave Neverland?” He stood up and looked at you with an amused expression. “You cannot leave Neverland, love. Not without my permission.” And then he had vanished. Left you to sit there alone and frustrated. Couldn’t he see that you didn’t want to be in Neverland? When he nearly shot the mermaid you told her to flee, and then you spun around to look at Peter Pan with both fear and anger. “You could’ve killed her!” You tried to say, but were silenced when Peter’s gaze turned dark.   “If you don’t want to be here you shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” He had said. “Now you’re here and now you’ll stay. Forever.” But forever could easily end. You knew that for a fact. You didn’t come to Neverland for no reason. Now with the dark sky above you threatening to unleash and pour down streams of cold rain, you were trying to leave once again. If you failed this time, you would die and Peter couldn’t stop you. As you reached the cliff, coming out upon it through a wall of bushes, the rain had already begun to fall. You eyed the sky, was it trying to warn you? Or trying to warn someone else?     “You sure are stubborn.” You spun around and stepped back in shock when you saw him stand there, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl upon his face. You were two steps away from the edge.   “Trying to kill yourself too?” He asked through gritted teeth stepping forward and you took a threatening step back as well. “Stop it, y/n.” He pleaded and you frowned, narrowing your eyes at him.   “What do you mean?”   “You can’t leave.” He stated but it sounded like another plea.   “Let me show you.” You threatened and took a last step back, now your right foot was just on the edge and Peter reached out for you and stepped forward.   “I’m telling you can’t!” He cried and gripped out for you but you leaned away.   “Why can’t I?!” You yelled at him and he looked up at you with widened eyes. You were both drenched, his bangs stuck to his forehead and you wouldn’t even know if he was crying because the rain stuck to his eyelashes and made it look like it. You yourself felt cold, but you couldn’t care less. Peter reached out a hand for you to take, but you just looked down at it. “Because I don’t want you to.”   “Well, and then when this is over you’re gonna go back to all your business as if I don’t exist and how does that show you don’t want me to leave? You don’t care!”   “I CARE!” He roared and his voice echoed in the dark space around you. “You just don’t see it! If you weren’t there I wouldn’t know what to do. I make sure you’re okay and make sure you don’t get hurt, but I…”   “You don’t even talk to me?!”   “Because I don’t know how to! I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how to react, I just want to be near you and have you here with me.” You looked at him with disbelief while he stepped closer and you felt his hand on the side of your face, it was cold but still you felt your skin burn where his met with yours. “I… I think I love you, y/n.”   “Then show me.” You pleaded and he looked down on your lips and then into your eyes. You felt his thumb caress them and you inhaled shakily. On the edge of everything, Peter leaned in and kissed you. When you opened your eyes again you were surrounded by white walls and after looking around you realized you were in his tent.   “This time, after stopping you from leaving, I won’t leave you either.” He said and kissed you once more.

x

Not as good as it could be though. Still I hope that you liked it! I’m gonna try and see if I can do better with the next one! Please like if you enjoyed it, thank you!^^ <3

Sincerely, Tiger Lily. <3

⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀⠀' popular '⠀⠀⠀♡⠀⠀⠀dividers

⠀⠀⠀⠀◌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᛝ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀f2u ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა⠀⠀not made by me !

⠀⠀𝑤ℎ𝑦 ' 𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ' 𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ ?

Thunderbolts* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier

hiii how are you ?

can I request a dad Charles where his daughter tells everyone that she French instead of Monegasque (just like Arthur) and Charles is just losing it every time she says it

She's Monegasque, not French

It started innocently, as most things with toddlers do.

Charles was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, his three-year-old daughter Yn nestled comfortably in his lap, her tiny hands clutching a crayon-streaked drawing of what she insisted was “Papa’s race car.” The sun was bright, the paddock buzzing with media and mechanics and laughter as the summer European leg of the season carried on in full swing.

And then it happened.

“Papa,” she said sweetly, tilting her head up at him, eyes wide and so heartbreakingly sincere, “I’m French.”

Charles blinked.

“Quoi?” he said, pulling back slightly, eyebrows lifting in gentle confusion. “Ma chérie, no, you’re not French. You’re Monegasque, like Papa.”

Yn looked at him, lips pursed, deep in thought. And then she gave a little shrug. “Non. I’m French, like Uncle Thur.”

Charles groaned softly and let his head fall back against the couch. “Not this again.”

From across the room, Arthur—lounging lazily in a chair, eating grapes like he was Caesar in a past life—choked on his laughter.

“I didn’t teach her that,” Arthur said through wheezes. “She came up with it on her own. Genius, really.”

“You encourage it!” Charles accused, pointing an indignant finger at his younger brother. “You always say you’re French!”

“Well, I am French,” Arthur said with a grin. “Monegasque passport and everything. And clearly, Yn has excellent taste.”

“Excellent taste in traitors. And Monaco is not France,” Charles muttered, pulling Yn closer as if cuddling her tightly would somehow absorb her back into Monegasque pride.

But it didn’t stop there.

No, Yn had decided. French it was.

She told the Ferrari PR team she was French when they asked where she was from. She announced it proudly to the camera when someone tried to film a cute moment with her and her dad. She whispered it solemnly to Carlos while sitting in his lap eating strawberries.

“Papa’s sad ‘cause I’m French,” she told Carlos.

Carlos, eyes sparkling with mischief, leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s okay, Princesa. I’m Spanish, and he still talks to me.”

“Does he love you?” Yn asked, dead serious.

Carlos blinked. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then maybe he’ll still love me even if I’m French.”

Behind them, Charles face-palmed.

The drivers got wind of it quickly—because of course they did.

By the next day, the jokes were relentless.

“So,” Lando said at breakfast in the hotel, stirring sugar into his coffee like he was preparing to deliver a monologue. “Do I address her as ‘Mademoiselle Yn’ now or...?”

“She’s not French,” Charles groaned.

“She told my engineer she wants her birthday cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower,” Max deadpanned, walking by and tossing Charles a sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

Even Seb, who was visiting that weekend with his kids, gave Charles a comforting pat on the back. “At least she’s not saying she’s German. Yet.”

And then there was Esteban.

“Oh, this is fantastique,” Esteban beamed, scooping Yn up in the paddock one afternoon. “You’re French, just like me!”

Yn squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “Oui!”

Charles practically melted into the tarmac. “Mon dieu…”

But it was Arthur who reveled in it most.

He started wearing a beret. A beret, for god’s sake.

One afternoon in the hospitality tent, he presented Yn with a baguette and a small fake mustache. “For my fellow French citizen,” he declared proudly.

“Merci, Uncle Thur!” Yn beamed, sticking the mustache crookedly on her nose.

“I am living in a cartoon,” Charles mumbled into his hands.

No amount of explaining helped.

“But Monaco is in France,” she argued one night while Charles tucked her into bed in the team’s motorhome. “It’s right there.”

“No, chérie,” Charles said gently, brushing her curls back. “It’s close, but it’s its own country. Like Papa said before, remember?”

“I like France better.”

He sighed and tried the next best tactic: bribery.

“If you say you’re Monegasque again,” he whispered conspiratorially, “Papa will buy you ten ice creams tomorrow.”

Yn narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What kind?”

“Any kind. Strawberry. Chocolate. All of them.”

“Hmm…” she tapped her chin with exaggerated thought. “I still wanna be French.”

He clutched his chest. “Traitor.”

The situation hit a new peak during the Saturday driver briefing. Yn, accompanied by Carlos and Charles, had been allowed to come along briefly before things got official. She toddled in wearing sunglasses way too big for her face and a little Ferrari cap.

Yuki crouched down to her level with a big smile. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Yn.”

“I’m French!” she declared proudly, striking a pose.

Yuki laughed. “That’s so cool! Then you must know that Uncle Pierre is also French!”

Yn froze.

All the drivers went still.

Charles raised his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

Yn’s nose scrunched up.

“…Uncle Pierre?”

“Yes,” Yuki chirped, unaware he was about to break the world’s most stubborn three-year-old. “He’s very French. Like super French.”

The silence that followed could have swallowed a pit lane.

Charles watched her face shift—concentration, confusion… and then determination.

She took off her sunglasses, turned to her father, and declared solemnly, “Papa. I’m not French anymore.”

Charles blinked. “You’re not?”

“I’m Monegasque now.”

“...Why?”

She folded her arms. “I don’t wanna be the same as Uncle Pierre.”

“WHAT?!” Pierre shouted from across the room, utterly betrayed.

Arthur was on the floor, laughing so hard he nearly cried. “Nooo! The French alliance has fallen!”

Carlos, barely holding it together, whispered, “Monaco wins.”

Charles scooped Yn up with the biggest grin he’d worn in days. “You have made Papa so proud.”

Yn patted his cheek. “Do I still get ice cream?”

He laughed, hugging her tight. “You can have all the ice cream you want, mon amour.”

Behind him, Pierre was muttering in disbelief, “What did I do? What did I do?”

And from that day on, Yn was proudly, defiantly, loyally Monegasque.

Until next week, when she decided she wanted to be Italian because “Papa’s car is red like Italy.”

And Charles just sighed into his espresso.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

I came across the AU idea that Dick Grayson is Richard Parker, and thus, Peter Parker's biological father. There are a few fics where Peter dimension travels to the DC universe and gets to meet his dead father. It is a fun idea, but I have different one.

AU where Peter dimension travels to the DC universe, and the batfam realizes that he is Dick's son, but rather than think he is from another universe, they all come to the conclusion that he is from the future.

It makes sense, after all, the rules of time travel basically boil down to 'don't change anything.' So when Peter is avoiding them and "pretending" not to know them, they just think he is following the rules. (He isn't even really avoiding them, he just has no idea who they are.)

You know how once you have an idea in your head, it take a lot of convince you that your wrong? Same idea here, they are so convinced of their idea that all new info ends up making them surer. Confirmation bias.

So Peter is trying to find a way home while the batfam tries to subtly help him without getting involved in time travel. Hijinks ensue.

Peter once mentions his love of photography and how he used to take pictures of heroes for a newspaper. Everyone looks at Tim and thinks, 'Gee I wonder where he picked up that hobby.'

At one point Peter pulls an assassin move, and Damian is like, 'I taught him that for sure.' (In reality Peter just trained with Natasha and Bucky before.)

When dealing with some issue Peter says something like, "I know a guy with some green angry problems and he taught me a lot about staying calm when mad." Everyone looks at Jason??? (He just picked up some meditation advice from Bruce Banner)

At some point he goes to the manor and everyone is like, 'Hah! More proof! He knows his way around the building!' He doesn't know his way around, his spider sense just lead him to where people are and kept him from getting lost.

He mentions Black Cat once, and everyone comes to the "totally logical" conclusion that Catwoman had a daughter, and that Peter and Felicia also have a weird almost dating thing going on.

Peter has been forced to go to some fancy events with Tony before so he knows how to act at rich people galas, which of course just adds fuel to the time travel theory.

Peter keeps accidentally referencing things that don't exist/didn't happen. Everyone just assumes these things didn't happen/don't exist yet.

3 year old angel, Yongbok 👼

#the teen titans aren’t teenagers anymore

Maybe dreams are memories from parallel universes.