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not without you — t.h

Originally posted by daisyisobelridley

summary: a bunch of scenarios in which you and your boyfriend are a little too extra and can’t sleep without holding each other’s hand. 

author’s note: uh yes hello this is so unrealistic and i’m embarassed to say these are my three a.m thoughts so don’t judge me !! might delete this?? idk yet i’ll see how i feel about it lol. 

  • so we all know that tom would be a complete sucker for hand holding
  • he basically holds your hand everywhere you go
  • even when you two are just casually chilling and watching tv he’d be holding your hand
  • your favorite thing ever would be when he’d wrap his arms around you from behind and lock your fingers together ugh that made you so soft
  • and maybe him getting so use to holding your hand got him to develop a bad habit of not being able to sleep without it??
  • sounds crazy but hear me out
  • so let’s start with tom having a bad habit of falling asleep on you
  • you can’t blame him because he’s always filming or working and his schedule gets so busy sometimes that he sleeps whenever he gets the chance
  • you find it really cute honestly
  • because you two could be in a car or at the store or literally anywhere and that boy would fall asleep on you
  • at the store you’d be looking at something and tom would be standing behind you, holding your hand obviously but also trying really hard to keep his eyes open
  • he’d fail miserably, leading to his head falling on your shoulder
  • he’d kiss it softly before completely dozing off.
  • you’d put your hand to the back of his head and run your fingers through his curls
    • “you sleepy?”
    • “mhm”
  • if you two were in a car he’d fall asleep the same way, his head on your shoulder or sometimes your lap, but mostly your shoulder
  • your hand would be laying on your side so he’d wrap his arm around your waist just so he can get to your hand
  • like he has one of your hands but clingy baby wants both
  • you’re such a sucker for these types of moments and you always lean down to kiss his head because he’s TOO CUTE
  • like can u imagine?? he just wants to hold ur hand?? like?? that’s all he wants??
  • okay anyways let’s continue so one specific day, you two were in a car and tom was asleep on you and you pull your hand out of his for a minute
  • and he just wakes up??
  • like eyes opens, alert, and pouty as fucking ever
    • “why you awake, bub?”
    • “gimme your hand”

Keep reading

thousand lives — p.p

ayyyye it’s a soulmate!au & i just really love peter man but u could make it bout tom if u want it’s not v peter specific 
word count: just under 2k ?

The sun was out.

A fair surprise for every person in who had ventured to the streets that day, considering it was the middle of fucking November. You were pretty sure the sun had only hidden behind clouds for the past couple of weeks. Scratch that, past couple of months. 

Okay, maybe the sight of the sun wasn’t that surprising — you weren’t living in some eternal night — but it was more the lack of grey. You couldn’t help but feel it was unsettling to see the sun chase away the clouds that had looked pretty permanent the day before.

Still, there it was —  filling the streets and filtering onto the floor of the coffee shop where you stood. Sighing wearily, you did a once-over of your outfit and pondered whether you’d dressed right for the weather, gnawing at your lip with uncertainty. The sun had seemed more like a mirage in the morning and so you still had your warm coat on.

Today was going slow — soul-sucking slow. And while you probably could’ve gone home and wasted time on your laptop for a couple hours, a quaint and small coffee shop caught your eye as you passed by; enough to slow your pace to study it. You weren’t particularly in the mood for a hot drink (I mean, it was a hot day already) but the dinky little shop seemed to almost beckon you closer. Deciding a hot chocolate couldn’t hurt, you started toward the coffee place, listening as the bell tingled with your entrance. 

Taking a quick breath, you noted the chocolate swirl in the air before you joined the queue of people, your eyes scanning the menu behind the counter. From behind you, the bell tingled again as someone entered the shop and you instinctively turned to see who it was.

Peter couldn’t help but notice you.

Maybe it was the glimmer of your hair or the flash of your eyes — or perhaps, it was the change in his heartbeat, his senses alighting at the sight of you. He can’t recall ever meeting you and confusion washes over him at his accelerated pulse, glancing to check and yes, your face is unfamiliar. Yet, something tells him that you are more than just another person in the line.

When you turned towards him, Peter automatically averted his eyes, a blush dusting his cheeks. It wouldn’t have been the first time Peter had been caught staring at a pretty girl and he’d rather not face that embarrassment again. But when his eyes flicked back up to you, meeting eyes that he swears he has seen before, loved before; you were already looking at him.

Your expression is one of surprise, maybe even curiosity, asking the question on Peter’s mind but unable to keep the question on your tongue.

“Have we met before?”

They have met before.

In fact, they’ve met many times — countless times in the past, never quite the same as the previous, something always different that proves time has shifted forward. They have met by another name, another time, another place.

Another life.

They don’t know it, but they’ve lived this all before.

The conversation always differs — are you new? let me get that for you. take my hand — as expected, for every first encounter is so vastly different from the last. But this — their nervous first glances, stammering exchange of words and the tug on their heartstrings that tells them they’ve found them. It’s one of few things that doesn’t change, a rule of sort, of the things that accompany their meeting; the most important being,

they meet in the sun, always.

It didn’t matter which godforsaken corner of the earth life had tucked either of you into, nor the season. When he first lays his eyes on you, the sun is basking almost poetically so when you smile for the first time he can compare it to the sun rays.

It’s happened a thousand times and it’ll happen a thousand times more.

He’s never sure at first — perhaps, you’re so familiar now that it’s unsettling. How your smile is one he knows well, how your laugh sounds more like a memory and how he’s loved your eyes before. You’re no stranger to his soul he knows.

More curious than cautious, he wonders why he’s so drawn towards you — Peter swears he’s never met you. Yet, your touch is like an old friend and it feels more like he’s remembering you than getting to know you — he seems to know you before you speak a word to him.

But Peter knows his science and he has a fair grip on how the world around him works — it’s something he takes comfort in. But still, it touches lightly on his mind as he thinks how this particular person seems to fit right next to him. 

No one is truly sure on how the universe works — how realities work, how the stars write stories and how dimensions, infinite universes function, how the world changes and shifts through different lives — how two people can swear they’ve met, that they’ve loved each other before.

Peter didn’t believe in soulmates; but for you, he did.

How else could he explain it? How else could he explain the easiness and comfort that seemed to emit from you? The way his hand seems to be made to fit yours? How, though soulmates must only exist in a reality where miracles occur and wishing on stars works, it must be Peter’s reality because his soul already knows you — already loves you.

And you love him.

You don’t know it — of course, you have no way of knowing —  but you already love him. You always love him, the same way he always loves you and you don’t know it, but its muscle memory now, you’ve loved him so long.

You see, you’ve loved him through countless lives.

You loved him when he was but a scruffy and scrawny baker homed in a stony European town where life was quiet but peaceful. You were raised in the town over and had blushed when he slipped another pastry into your basket, grinning to yourself and vowing to come back to see the young baker with pretty eyes who already felt like a friend. You’d meet in the village square and he’d bring the tart you loved and you would reward him with kisses, never letting his hand go as you dreamed together under the stars.

You loved him when he was a colourful and clever violin player on the streets of France, scrapping money from who he could and spending all his coins to impress the merchant’s daughter who had a face of a lover he couldn’t remember. You would sneak out to see him in the nights and he would play melodies written just for you, claiming the moon had told him what notes to play because, like him, the moon loved you too.

You loved him when Kings and Queens still reigned and ruled, a lone thief who had captured the heart of the Prince when you were arrested for stealing from the rich and giving to the poor; the town’s own Robin Hood. He had seen your good heart after whispering through the prison bars and together you’d ran through the courtyard in secret, kisses stolen as together you’d whispered your plans and escaped into the night with faith that your love was your protector.

You loved him when wars tarnished the world, falling in love only to have your love torn apart. You loved him even when you were pulled away by circumstance, standing at the train station with tears as you whispered ‘i’ll wait for you’ and kissed him with the love of a burning star, knowing you might never be able to kiss him again. 

You loved him when leg-warmers and mullets were in, meeting him and his eccentric dance moves on the dance floor with her even more eccentric hair. Together, you’d tangled up in the decade, the music and each other’s arms, singing and loving through the years together.

You loved him when he was the shy boy next door, drawn to his caring nature and ability to make you laugh whenever — you loved him when you were sharing homework, headphones and secrets as you both sneak out your windows to see one another, giving and taking soft and shy kisses of the boy who feels like home.

You loved him, always.

You were born from the same star, your souls made from the same tangles of fate in a way that means you’re meant for each other. You’ve loved each other for so long, so many moments, kisses, touches shared so tenderly but neither of you remembers in the next life. It doesn’t matter, you love each other all the same.

It’s not always a happy ending — sometimes, fate makes it cruel.  Perhaps you couldn’t fight the family that insisted on separating you or he didn’t make it home from the war or one of you couldn’t fight the illness that eventually pulled them from the other. There have been goodbyes, so many shared with tears as one of them desperately tries to keep this piece of their soul with them.

But they are never gone long — another life, another hello, another chance to meet in the sun.

“Have we met before?”

Yes. Yes, you’ve lived and loved —  watched kingdoms rise and fall, plagues and wars wipe out populations, sailed the seas and danced at balls, held hands and shared kisses and seen the world, their other half always by their side. You’ve searched through lives to find each other, survived the world as it changed but never shifting yourselves — your soul will always find his. You’re soulmates and not people, not the stars, not life nor death can stop you from finding each other.

“Um, no, sorry—I-I don’t think we have.” Peter stammers out his answer, searching your face — god, where does he know you from — for an answer as to why he feels like he’s coming home.

“Sorry,” you smile nervously—he’s seen that smile one time before, maybe his dreams—rolling your shoulders back and rocking back on your heels. “You just…looked familiar.”

I know exactly what you mean, his mind whispers and Peter finds himself smiling, the beginnings of a genuine grin curling onto the corners of his lips. “Oh! I’m P-Peter.”

He offers his hand out to this stranger — no, you’re not a stranger, he knows you somehow — and the way your hand fits with his so naturally, your grins are like the beams from the sun coming through the window.


tagging below!

@holywinchesterness @emiilysdesk @rnayparker @agentmalfoy24601 @the-masked-martyr @thequaksonclackson @palebun-16 @underoosie @parkerroos
@almightyhollands @tomhollandisthicc @nedandpeter @lil-spidey@acciopeter @hufflepuffholland @focused-on-holland @gentlethunderstorm@rock-n-roll-queens @klenasdmitry @ilvermornyqueen @liz-gayllen @peter-my-parker @spidaboyy @spiderparkerboy @chinalois @everythingthatisrandom
@heyrogers @prettylilparker @queensholland @snetersnarker

I…don’t know. I was about to fall asleep when this image appeared in my head. I could see it. Feel it. It had such a demonic aura I couldn’t go back to sleep. THe only way to get rid of this curse is to materialize it. Bring the demons to the material world where I can defeat them through memes. I thought my previous post was the end…I was so wrong…C̸h̴a̵o̵s̶ ̴i̴s̶ ̸j̶u̴s̸t̵ ̵a̴ ̸s̵c̵a̴l̶e̴.̸.̴.̴.                        ..I̸̥͉̯͂͐̂̚t̸͍͇̯̞̲͉̹̐̀̊́͌̚͝͠͠ ̴̗̹̉̓́̽̓̀͒͊͠c̸̨̨͔̩̟̰̗͍̻̻̀̉̽͗a̷̡̛͕̭̘͙̹̍̍̀̆͆́̅͘n̷̛͎̠̣̳̯͉̲̙̭͋́͑̀͛͘ ̵̢̧̗̪̝̫͇̽̾͗̌̅͌ͅo̴̪͓̘̪̼̲̟̟͙͂̀̀̇̈͘͘n̵̍̍͊͌͑̚͠ͅl̴̲̟̻̈́̍́̋͑̊̌̏͑̚y̸̨̢̞͉̰̱͌̅̽͒̔͗̕͘͜ ̶̩̏̿̌ģ̵͓̝̞̻̱͎̮̖̻̇̀̍ȇ̴̻̲̘̳̪̘̗͛͒̓͗̂̕͝t̶̝̟͙͊̎̉̓͆̈̚͝ͅ ̴̔̾̍͐̾͘̕̕͜w̵̹̪͙͕͓͇͍̞̞̫͛̽̈́̋͘͠͝õ̶̱̲̦̩̰͇͕͖͉ŕ̶̪͕̝͈̋̉̿͝s̴̡̜̐̌e̷͎̟̣̋̌̽h̸̪̳̙̟̙̤͆͊ȩ̴̛̛̮̦͚̤̖͈̥̹̼̻̤̓̀̏̆̂͌̄͂̔͗̽̚͝ĺ̴̙̰̲̿̓̄̈͒͒ͅp̸̦̳̻̦̠̺͖͙̹͉̭̝͒͒͊̓͊ͅ ̶̡̡̹̬̙͉̥̤̫̣̎̄̆͘ĥ̴̛̳̎̂̂e̵̞̬̭͚̖̲̦̮̦̦̓̐́̓̽̂̒̀̊͝l̴̝̖̼̪̮̫̯͈͑͑̔̾̈́p̴̧̩͙̩͕̈́̽̈́̃̅ ̴̧̳̜̱͎̖͐͊͛̀͑͑͌̀̀̀̒̓͆͘h̵̡͙̳̯̮̘͈͕͚̠̔͆̓̓̃̾̈e̶̥̊̏̿͗̈́̀̉̂̿̈́̋͠͝l̷̜͔̘̪̤̬̣̘̈́̈̈́̅̍̚͝͠p̶̧̛̩͔͙̲̟̫͍̜̤̬̤̞̝̹͋́́̉̅̐̍͛̎̀̈́̅͝ ̸̙͋̌͌ḥ̶̡͈̺̭̭͚͇͕̯̌̐̑̈̇̾̚͘͝ḛ̸̢̲̥̻̑͐́l̸͍͓̑̀̀͗͌̈̒̚p̵̡̟͚̠͚̮͑̒́͠͝ ̷̢̹̼̮̫̺̝̳̦͇͚̬̓̄̈̇̒́̉́̀̒́̇͜d̵̡͙͈̙͔̱̻̻̦̺͍̓͂s̸̨̢̛̪̼̳̫̭̎͊̔̑̽̑̀͂͠a̷̛̭̰̘̔̔̓̒̉̂̀̈́͆̍̂̈́ḽ̸̻̤͔̤̟͙̘̓̅̔̈́̍̈́̚͘̚̚͜͝k̵̳̩̺̰͚̙̆̋̀̐̊̽̀̿̾d̵̡̨̥͓͓̜̦͍̲̝̥̻̊̅̊n̴̛̞̘̆̿̒̌́̉̕f̵̫̱̔̑̈́̓̓́͜͠ͅa̸͕̺̲͌̍̄̔͋̉̋͒̔͑͂͐͗ͅo̴̡̟͎̝̱̫̣̙̹̤̤̥̙̤̔̉̀̃̇͊̽̀́́̕͠ ̷̟̑̇d̸̳̍̆͆̔̅̓̔̏́͐́̕͜͠͝k̸̢̡̛̥̜̝̯͕̟͕̹̋́̐̑̿̎̈́̏͗̇̊̀̽́s̸̩̘̤̫̺͉̠̘̻̤͊̑o̶͖̰̯̞̺͛ă̸̠̘͎̺̗̰̤̞͆͗4̷̛̛͓̋͑̆̓̓̆̎̎̽̔̄͘͝k̶̡̝̘̗̣̳̊̍̊͒̐̈́̅̑̒̾̿̃͗j̴̩̱͖̲̲̘̝̽̊̊͜d̵̬͆̓̇͊̅̀̔́͐͒̓́́̚͜ ̷̡̲̱͖̫̘̺͓̀̾̓̉́̀̑̑͊̓̊̾ḍ̸̡̪͚̫͍̘̬͈̺͚̟͛̒̅̍͐͝ǩ̸̡̛̼͓̱̘͙̗̙̺̔̎̓̆̎̀̈̈́͛͑̾f̸̨̫̬̻̲̹̦͂͗ͅş̴̢̼̮̬̭̃̇̌̈́̂̓i̷̢̗̤̗̓ę̴̡̧̞͉̰̟̦̦̗̼̘̽͆̑́̓́̊̈́͊͜r̵̢̢̬̘̳̱̭̳̟̲̬̈̉̇͌̎͑́̈́̊̈́̚͠ć̵͉̭̆͜v̴̢̡̛̛̮̝̹̖͔̜̝̒̒̊̅̾̄͋̒͘ ̵̬̜͉̹͓̈́̈́͋̔̿͗̀̒̏̌͐͝d̸̙̖͙͔̲͔͔̩̟̿̈́̓̑͊͛͑̑͛̈́͆͂͊͠ž̷̫͖͉͇͇͙͕̰̜͈̼͜͝ć̵̡̥̤̼̹̜͈͚͙̩̹̓̽f̷̜͍͙͓̞̜̉ç̴̡̡͕̫͚̯̗̙̞̤̦͖͙̌̈́̿̂̀̍̒̆̍͊͒̚͝ě̶̤̯͇̣̼̯͉̟͚͈̂̓ ̸̪̞͚̼̺͕͖͗̅̃͑͌͗̀̈́͗̆̌͊͋̚d̸̳̠̲̬̩͎͈͎̃́̈͜ḳ̶̨̛̛̦̞̟̗̺̞̈́̆̉̄̔͊̅̾̐̉͝͝f̷̢̲̩̣͕̺̭̙̻̎́̎̿͒̄̔̓͘͜͜͝ͅș̷̢͈͙̱̦̣̬͕̬̳̊͊̚͜š̸͈̯͇̋̿͗̎̈̀̈́̌̆̿̔̈́̚͝͠e̴̛͈̼̖̳̫̥̒͊͗͘͜ͅͅç̴̭̲̬̥̖̝̌͐̋̎͒̿̈́͂̈́̈́̈́̓̄̕ą̵̨̢̡͓̤̝̱͔͇̙̮̦̾ͅl̴͕̣̺͚͍̩̹͎̬͖̹̳̪͖͒̃̋́̎̀̏̌̄̕f̶̨̫̙̜̬̥̪͔̩̘͙̻͓̈́̀̃͆̒̐͒̋́́͂̌ ̵̢̛̰̲̠͎͚̲̝͈̩̽͂̐̾͝e̴̜͍̠̼͋̑͒̿́̾̓̚̚͜a̷͖͌͗͌͗̄̉̾̋̊͜͠k̵̨̪̘̻̹̝̪̥͓̘͔̬͕͙͑̈͌̍ͅḑ̴̯̖͙͕̟̰̜̫̙́̇́̈́͌̀̚͝f̷̢̳̓̚͘9̷͉̱̜͍̲̯̺̘̱̻̊̍̽ǫ̸̡̧̯̬̻̗̩̞̥̻̀̊̿͆͊̐̈̑̈͂̔͋͘͘è̴̢̡̫̟͎̻̻͚̭͕̺̋̊͊̓̌̅̈͐́͛́͘ͅk̸̦̪̘͑͂̅̈́̌́͜͝a̵̦̤̰̘̼͇͈̫͚̳͕̔̍̓̈́̃̑̊̅̿͛̍͒͐̔n̷̪̝̮͗̌̀̌̈́̎̽̐̕͝d̸̹̦͍̹͖͙̥̰̋͂̍͜ ̸͕̮̠̎̿́͂̅͋̅̅̾̓c̴̡̢̨̘͙̏͒̃͑́̆͋͛̔͒̏́̕č̵̡̫̹͈̪̳̰̦͎̞͖̜̺̀̆̍̾̆ć̵̡̙̲̲̖̳̥̱͔̳̠̺͇̇̀̃͗̾͗͜ą̴̥̞̟̟̀̿͊͒͐͘͠ͅ ̶͇̙͈͕̥̝̫̼̥͚̗͈̻̻̺̃̑̒͌a̴̡̯̲̰͉̺͎̞̭̲͙͂̅͗̐̂͂̈́̂̃͜ḟ̶͙̹̇̅̿͌̇̕͝͝ṗ̷̜̬̝̖̦͎̟̖̖̰͓̂̑̎̅̇ͅͅs̸̛̈͑͌͜ở̶̳̥̼̜̠͎͍̑͂̐͐̓͝j̴̠̖͂f̵̦͓̍̆̆̌́̾̏͐̔̄͠͝ ̷̡̧̛̥͉̙͎͉̳̝̱͚͕̞̥͓̏̾̊͑͆̂̈́͐͝n̶͙̳̰̠̽g̶͎̫͕̩̭͋̃͗́̿̈́̇̊ͅh̸͕̪̬͙̦̥̣͚͎͎̹͓̝̪̤͒̇̄̿̿͗͒͗̀͘͝f̵̡̨̛̱̞̖̣̰̳̻̌̆̍͌̇͊͊̏̄̒̏̉ư̶͖̦̲͖̲̌͌̋̆̋̓̚͘ ̸̡͓͙̹̬͍̄̀̇͘n̷̛͕̼͒̽̂̃͑̂̚̕͝d̵̟͉͍̃̂̔̂̚̚̚͜͝͝d̸̨̛̞̺̟͚͙͒̽̊͆̀̇̄͝ͅͅk̴̹̟͕̜̝͍̤̖͆̆̓͒̍͗̔̒̀̌̋̕͝į̷̧̨̠͋̉͛͒̈͋̋͗̅͆͌͗̕̚͜͝f̴͇͆̋͋́́̓ ̷̡̖̟͈̮̬̭̜̽̑̔̉̉̏̚͘̕̚͝ͅ ̴̨̡̨̥̟̭̞̜̣͔̞͓̫̝̭͋͆͂̾͛̍̚͠ṇ̶̹̭̣̜̟̗͍͈̝͉͇̥̑̅̆͋̎͒̌̏̇̎̕͜͠͠͝d̵̥̥̳͎̳̮̺̖̖̦̾͆̽͒̃̈̐͂̂̈́̈̚͜͜j̴̺̟̟̪̑͌̌̽̌̄̎͒̈́̕̕̕͝͠f̸̡̧̦̬̝̙̰̜͛̽͑̆́̎̿͗͘͘̚͝u̴̮͉̰̠̠͔̓̓̿̃͊̉͛̀̽̍̅̅̐́͜t̴͔̤̥͚͈͚̪̭͕͉̃̐̎̽̍̇̿͊̈́͌͠ ̴̨̧̛̻̟̳͍͛́̔͗̉̏̊̇͊̚͠͝͝͝č̶̨̧̛̙̤͎̘̻͍͙̘̙̪̳̈́͌̈́̓̾̅̒̆̐̏̕ ̵̢͈̠͎͇͍̰͍̳̽̄̓̀́̾̊̌͂͛̈͒͜m̸̢̤̝̭̲͉̝̯̂́͌̄͒̆̇͗̓̀̾̄̚͜͝n̵̢̖̲͇̺̹̗͍̦͍̟̦͇̍̌̊̐̀͜d̵̡͈̙̦̥̘͎͕͊́̈́́̾͝ͅf̵̧̥̣͖͎͔͋͋̈́̕ü̷̻̗̜͌̇̇͛̈́ơ̶̛̓̉͆̇͊̈́̋͂̉͗͜ ̵̡̧̹̝̰͑̇͆̍͊͛͋͋s̸̢̨̰̹̠̞͔̰͎͇͆̀̅̍ç̷̛͎̭͉͍̹͍̲̯̼̌̒̀͒̓̒̄́̏̾̾́̚ä̵̡̼̬̥̘̼̰̼̟̺̜̩̬͙̦m̴͚̹̠̮̠͖͇͙͕͈̤̆͆̚v̸̨̞̳̥̳̥̪̠͒̆̈́͆̑̌̅ͅ ̶̡̨̹͍͔̱͕̤̦̮̘̲̏̒̋̄͋̂͗̅̕ ̵̻͖̩̱͇̃̍͋͌̈́Ḧ̶̝̽̈́̋͜ ̵̛͖͇͔̜̯̪̳͕̓̑́͗̽̀̋̄̇̎͛͊͆̐͜E̷̫̾̅ ̷̢͔̼̖̜̠̖̲̯̹̾L̶̛̰̺̬͇̜̗̣̯̱͈̪̟̹̬̔̑͐̋͊ ̴̡̯̝̜͛̃̀̓́̕͝Ṗ̶̺̠̼͕̱̘͋̎̈́̽͌͜͠ ̴̢̛͕̤̤̮͕̹̋̈̉̉̐̊̈̎͠ͅH̸̢̧̳͉͈͎̖̬̮͚͍̫͇͙̽ ̷̢̧̛̺̩̭̘̣̌͌̀͌̌́̅̽͠Ȅ̴̡̤̱̝̹́̍̅͂͌̍̈̽͂̈́ ̶̧̡̛̰̰̳͉̯̜̳̬̼̘͔̗̪̓̏͂͂̎̽̊͑̋̉̚̚L̶̨͉̖͕̗̈́̇͆̊͗̓̀͆̒͋̒͂̚̚̕ ̸̗͓̅̓̅̈́̀̔̔͝P̷̧̡̮̯̙̭̞̺̘̘͉̑ ̷̨̺̭̖̳̻̘̙̦̰̝̓̾̃H̸̢̊͑̉ ̴͚̍̐̊̒̂̽͂̐̃͝ ̶̝̊̀̈̈́̉͊̑̃ͅ ̴̧̢̺̜̗͚̬̹͉̖̗̩̋̑̿́̀́̉̔͊̃͑͐Ę̷̨̧̞̻͙̖̼̼̦̼̖̙͈̾́͐̆͠ ̵͓͖̲̳͓͙̱͉̙͖̮̰͖͇̂ ̷̛͉̦͚̫̩͔̱̥̃͒̔͋̏̈́̕͜ ̸̢̧̧̛̥̞̻̣͚͖̭̜̣͗̒̋́L̴̢̮͙̺̯̳̠̩̝̪͐͑͆͆͑̕ ̶͇̼̫͇̦̗̺̔͛͑̈́͑̓̓́̽̔́̄͝͝ ̶̡̢͚̘̼̮̯̠̜͔̮̪̪̯̓͆̾̆͒P̷̨̢̙̫̹̭̣̩͖͚̜͚̬͛̈́̾̀̓̒̐͊̉̇̚͜ ̸̛̺̫̣̼̙̞̖͈͉̳̊Ḩ̷̢͇͕̪̬̱̻̊É̶̫̿̌̉́̕L̸̢̖̺̙̖͖̝͉̥̙̰̭͋̈̃Ļ̸̨̖̬̮̪̭͔̠̫̉̋̔̈́́̿̕̕͝ ̶̨̡̪̦̲̰̗̳̬̬̹̠̩͖͖̔̏͆I̴̡̳͔̤̰̰̖̮̳͈͙̾͑͌́͒͋͐̋̅͘͠S̷̡̖̗̪̝̥̖̠͍̫̜͇̍͂̍͝ ̸̨̪̱̜̖̱͖̻̭̤̃͛̓͌͐́̽̈̓̒͊̆̀̃͜R̷̞̗̠͉͓͖͔͓̞̈̄̄͒̃̐̚E̸̮͍͇̯̰͕̣̳̰̝̮̫͖̋̐Ạ̷̧̧̳̙̙̦͇͙͙̗̩͈͇́̆̌͘͜͠L̸̯͔̂̇̎̀̐͠ ̵̫͖͍̫̲̀̄͐͋͆̇̈́̉͘ͅH̵̹̤̣̫̍̂͌̓̈́͌̓̔͠Ȩ̵̫̠̱͐͋̎̈́́͘͝͝͠͝L̴̡̢̛̬̯̹̪͕̜̥̻̞͈͉̞̓̂̿̂̉͗̿͛̈́̾L̵̖̠͇̼̻̩̜̞̲͌͑̎͗ ̵̨̜̮̳̰̻̞̙͍̻̥̂͑̂͑̄́̄̓̌͝ͅĮ̵̨̖̖͉͈͚̙̮͕͙̫̟̄͊̑̌͛́̓̔̾̂̿͘͝͠͝S̸̢͍͉̩͖͉͕͆́̋ ̷̨̛͎̣̣̰̻̮̲̙͇̜͚̤̘̇́̈́́̄̕͘R̵̖̬̦̹̫͕͇̾̅́͊̏͑̎̒̇̔͊ͅE̷̳̖̥̟̜̺̭͉̓̏͑̈́̅̈͑͑̈́̈́ͅA̵̱̯̽̄̂̄̈̓̆̔̿̾̀͘L̴̩̩͉̀̈́ ̶̧̠̺̅̅̇̓̏H̴̟͓͉̻͚̗͑̾́͊̉̐́̿̀̄̿E̶̢̛̹͓̘̤̠̦͚͔͕̗̪̹͉̍͂̈́̄͂̒̉̈̈́͠͝͝L̶̳͚̾̓̀̾͌̿͘L̷̻̩̞̮̹͉̲͍̻͚͉̯̪͔̘̄̋̿̉̕͝ ̵̪̯̮̜͕̗̞̤͒̓͑̿̿͒̍͋I̶̧̼̳͉̹͑̈́͗̏̐̽̀́̐̃̕S̶̡̧̡̮͖̤͎͖̖̪̓̐́̀̀ ̶̟̱̯̟́̍R̶̩̝͈͓̉̌̒̒̽̆͑́Ę̵̛̖̰͇̤̩͔̞̣̬͚̽̌̈́̿̔̋̒̅̚͜͜͝Ā̵͖̺̽̑Ḻ̸̳̝͉̞̳̀͋͊̆̽͒

When the “Symbol of Peace” is a Warrior

Remember that time Gandhi punched a man into the stratosphere? Or when Nelson Mandela dropped the atom bomb? While such events might make for a good game of Civilization VI, the societal and cultural implications would be rather bleak.

That’s the world of Boku no Hero Academia. A world where peace is assured, not by treaties and accords, but by the threat of overwhelming force. The threat of All Might bearing down upon you with all his might.

The surface level problem with this arrangement is not so much an issue for the majority of law-abiding citizens. At least, it wouldn’t be if not for the way this society pushes people toward villainy (which I wrote about here).

The deeper issue here, is the idolization of violence.

Pictured above are 4 of the top 10 ranked heroes in Japan. There are 2 others, but they don’t support my claim, and the remaining 4 are unknown.

All Might - OFA: punches so hard the sheer pressure changes the weather
Endeavour - Hell Flame: kills it with fire
Ryukyu - Dragon Form: claws, fangs, probably eats livestock whole
Edgeshot - Foldabody: makes body thin as a razor, punches at speed of sound

Ignore the Shigarakis and All For Ones of the world, they are few and far between. Consider the more innocuous criminal, like a shoplifter. What strategies would any of these heroes employ in that case? Step 1, offer chance to surrender. Step 2, murder? These heroes do not have a non-lethal option.

And that’s a real problem. Not just for these heroes, but for the society that elevated them to the top 10, rankings which account for popularity more than anything else. 

Every child dreams of being All Might. Everyone looks up to this incredible powerhouse. The term “Hero” was meant to mean “one who saves others,” but has twisted to mean only “one who fights villains.” This perverse understanding of what makes a hero pervades society at an institutional level.

Take it from Aizawa, the UA entrance exam is illogical and harmful, stemming from society’s fascination with brute strength. To get in to the UA Hero course, you need a combat-capable quirk. This system precludes people like Shinso or Aizawa from gaining admission, people who posses some of the greatest and most useful quirks any hero could ask for.

But the exam never asks, “What’s your true potential?” It begs but two simple questions, “How many villains can you beat up? How many people can you save (from villains)?” And the results end up looking like this:

That’s right, Lord Explosion Murder is the star of this year’s class. Bakugou’s quirk and personality are only useful for trying to kill things. Maybe he just needs a better role model. Who does he look up to? Oh, right, it’s All Might.

All Might is a defacto demi-god of this world. Outside of villainous circles, you won’t find anyone who doesn’t idolize him. But what good is that idolization? If someone like Bakugou genuinely believes himself to be following in All Might’s footsteps. 

Well, maybe this is an isolated problem. All Might is UA’s celebrity alumni, of course they’ll try to keep up that image. But the other hero schools can’t all be like that, and the hero licensing program is bound to be–

Oh, nope. It’s all violence, all the time. Neat.

Granted, the provisional license exam does have a rescue phase, but almost everyone passed that. The part intended to cull 95% of the applicants is combat-based. Are there even enough villains in the world to justify being this focused on combat?

As tragic as it is, the elevation of violent heroes is only half the problem,

Because this is a zero-sum scenario: if brutality rises to the top, then utility is pushed to the bottom. 

Non-violent heroes simply do not have a clear path to success. I’m using Shinso as an example again, because there are so few like him that manage to rise to the point of being mentioned in the story. The realm of heroism is all but institutionally sealed off for them. 

Society wants heroes who fight villains. That is what their purpose has become. And anyone who can’t conform to that mold gets pushed out. Maybe Stain was on to something; heroes have deviated from their original purpose, they now exist only for the spectacle of the fight.

All Might’s position as the Symbol of Peace does not extol heroism, but rather violence in heroism’s name.

“Dreamers” - amazing art by the wonderful @panda-capuccino - [Read on AO3]

During young Ben Solo’s darkest nightmares, there’s a girl that helps him cope. At first he just feels her presence, but her image becomes clearer as dreams go by. When he learns that she needs his help too, he is willing to disobey his uncle’s wishes and do whatever it takes to reach her. Only together, they can figure out what this powerful bond between them is about.

I still cannot believe how blessed we are that we didn’t get a slow realization on both sides, no instead we got Basilton outright telling us on his first fucking day back at school that he was in full, angst ridden love with Simon Snow


“It is simply that, I merely wish to be with the person I love.”

Ichibanboshi My Hero - 10 days/Tooka
Scans: @deliciousale
Translation: @shousanki

(ahhh thanks so much for this translation im still weeping)

Luffy & Labrador

Robin & Whippet

(From @blenheims ’s lovely dog headcanons)

(((Just a detective and his cop husband detecting shit))) AU where Light isn’t a rude as h*ck crazy boi and becomes the fourth best detective in the world? Then Light, L, and Misa fight the bad guys and bring them to justice? anybody?

HeyyYy Check out my youtube if you dig my art -

Saw the Halloween ask on the arcana blog about what costumes they would wear and I needed to draw them and Faust 🎃


“Darling, you really shouldn’t leave your mouth open like that, it’s not attractive.”