suggestions are welcome if you do read it

Boku no Hero Academia Fiction Recommendation Master Post

I have decided my new favorite anime and its fandom deserves some appreciation. Every work I recommend are - in my personal opinion - beautiful and I want everyone to read them. If you see your work up here that’s cause I loved it to the moon and back! I welcome suggestions too!  

♥ - ultimate fav

★ - they do the do

(★) - implied sexual activities

ロ - unfinished

■ - finished

✿ - multi chapters

TodoDeku (Todoroki x Midoriya)

Sumary:  Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

Summary:  [02:13 AM] todoroki: Are you awake?

Summary:  U.A.’s Heroics Division’s Class A was graduating. Moving on. Never coming back. And Izuku is going to be left behind, solidly trapped in a prison of his own making. There might be a few things that could make it more bearable, though.

Summary:  Todoroki is bad at presents, and worse at confessions.

Summary:  I wrote some silly fluff for Izuku’s birthday. Happy bday, little hero egg!

Summary: Todoroki felt his own breath drop in temperature as the nerves settled in, steam rising with each steady exhale. He continued to stare, as if expecting the same to happen to Midoriya when he caught a whiff of cool mint as the boy spoke, face inches from his. In which Midoriya has a better grasp on the changes happening in Todoroki than Todoroki himself.

Summary: There was no magical moment that played a part in Midoriya’s realization that he liked Todoroki. The thin red string that greeted him every time he looked down at his hand was an obvious factor, yes, but it wasn’t love at first sight either. It sorta just… happened over time.

Summary:  In which Todoroki Shouto is trying to ask Midoriya out and the whole class is in on it.

Summary: The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye. Of course, there’s only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

Summary:  It’s been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn’t Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

Note: Part 6 of Send Endeavor to the Shadow Realm series. First part: Spring Cleaning

Summary: Izuku has never been one to curse but the only way to describe himself as his mother hugs him goodbye that morning, is royally fucked.He’s really, truly glad no one in their class has a mind-reading quirk because from the minute his feet touched warm sand, his mind has been screaming in tune to the same famous classical overtures Tenya listens to when they study together. Occasionally, the music pauses just long enough for his brain to point out observations about Shouto that make Izuku want to stick his head under the waves and just breathe in.

Summary:  Note to self: don’t accidentally fall in love with a prince who’s in an arranged marriage keeping your kingdoms from declaring war against each other. Especially when you’re spying on him as his manservant.

Note: Part 1 of the kings & queens of promise series.

Summary: It starts —like all ideas that inevitably lead to one’s downfall do— with something akin to this: Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku and a five-story house by the beach, completely devoid of any entry-fee –save for the one where Todoroki has to pretend to be Deku’s boyfriend. All-in-all though, not an awful price to pay for the vacation of their dreams, right? Right?

Summary:  It’s Wednesday morning when Izuku’s mother texts him to remind him about his cousin’s wedding coming up the following weekend, and it’s Wednesday evening, when Izuku’s back in his room after classes and has time to call her, that she tells him she can’t go to the wedding with him.

Summary: Todoroki and Midoriya are pro heroes. They’re also dating.These two aspects clash when they’re outed to the entire world as Japan’s first officially gay heroes.

Summary: In his third year at UA, Todoroki Shouto works in a burger place, catches on fire and falls in love. Only two of those things are on purpose. Or…Todoroki Shouto’s exciting adventures in customer service.

Note: First part of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series! The next TodoDeku part of the series: get in loser, we’re going heroing

Summary:  Shouto Todoroki is a cold Pro Hero who never uses his fire side. He refuses to be like his father, Endeavor, but every day it seems like he’s becoming more like him. Shouto meets up with Izuku Midoriya, a quirkless Pro Hero counselor and discovers that his power is his own. Also… he might be falling in love with his counselor. // AU where Deku never received One for All and became a quirk counselor instead!

Summary: Shouto has his first sleepover.

Summary:  In the wake of All Might’s death, Izuku grieves. (Post-Graduation/Future Fic)

Summary: It was a mistake, Shouto thinks, to fall in love with a hero. (Or the one where Todoroki is a Quirkless school nurse and Hero Deku’s longsuffering boyfriend.)

Note: Part 1 of the demolition lovers series.

KiriBaku (Kirishima x Bakugou) 

Summary: … It wasn’t that he was annoyed. Okay, maybe he was a little annoyed, but that was just the lack of sleep talking. Because a certain explosive punk thought it was a good idea to test the flammability of his sheets at 2 in the morning. Every single morning. (In which Bakugou’s quirk wakes Kirishima up, and Kirishima gets way too invested in his bro’s well-being.)

Summary:  The summer training camp of Bakugou’s second year at UA descends upon him with all the untamed fury of- well, himself, honestly.

Summary: "Hey! Wake up you piece of shit! Are you alive?!“ The man winces and scrunches his face in pain but Bakugou continued to hold him in place. Good, he’s alive- Piercing red eyes flutter open and gaze lazily straight at Bakugou’s face and Bakugou feels his heart skip a beat. Oh, Fuck- AKA merman! Kirishima au

Summary: Bakugou sleeping in the common areas like it’s no big deal seems to give everyone else permission to be just as bizarre, and little by little Kirishima starts learning things about his classmates he never knew.  

Summary:  Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou are paired together for a winter survival assignment! It’s inevitable that the two clash, but neither of them could have predicted an accident at the height of their tension. Trapped in the wilderness at the mercy of the environment, how will the two cope with finding help and mending what was broken?

Summary:  Before going into battle, it’s only proper to make an offering to the god of war. But Kirishima’s run out of things to give. AKA God of War! Bakugou au

Summary: “You’re a popsicle biter, you fucking animal,” Bakugou says. “You’re not?” Kirishima says around a mouthful of ice cream. “No,” Bakugou says. “I prefer my teeth unfrozen, thanks.” He wraps his mouth around the popsicle and Kirishima realizes his mistake very, very quickly.

Summary:  Kirishima has always made things easy for Bakugou. But that doesn’t mean that Bakugou’s gotten any better at these things, even after all of these years.

Summary: Bakugou works at a convenience store, flirts like a loser, blows up nineteen aprons, gets a hashtag trending for all the wrong reasons and maybe manages to make a friend. Or…being Bakugou Katsuki is suffering.

Note: Part two of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series

Summary: With phone, money, and keys in his pocket, Kirishima wandered around the city for an age. With his legs on auto-pilot his mind wandered too. To the new movie that peppered the streets in posters and trailers, a new move he wanted to practise for another basketball play, wondering about how the current arcs for his favourite manga would turn out in the next issue of Jump. And, of course, he thought about how many of those things he could see and do with Bakugou.

Summary: Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse… When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast. Or the beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

destielisgonnabecanon  asked:

hey there, i'm writing an essay about how destiel is real for a friend of mine and I was wondering what you think the most important pieces of meta that i should put in? can you recommend anything?

Hi - wow, that’s some dedication. All I did for my friends was send them some links - and, on one memorable occasion, I spent one entire 30 minutes conversation occasionally glancing at my (female&blinded by heteronormativity) friend’s lips instead of looking at her eyes, and by the end of it she was uncomfortable af and half convinced I was into her, and that’s when I presented her with a list of gifsets like -

- and basically dropped my mic and sashayed out.

(Man, I wish my hair was long enough to be flicked back.)

She changed her mind after that, by the way. And it’s really weird how most behaviours and gestures are used on screen precisely because we understand them as human things we all do on a deep level, and yet we’re suddenly unable to figure out what they mean if they’re not about a man and a woman. Uh.

(That applies to me as well, by the way. We see what we know about, not what is actually there, and that’s just inevitable - but can be unlearned, with some patience and many, many mistakes.)

Anyway, here are a bunch of things - I hope they’re useful.

Also, the entire S8, which was basically a demented Jane Eyre AU, and the entire S11, because, again, that Amara thing didn’t make sense without Destiel subtext, and finally @deanswingsbothways’ drunken rant (spoiler: contains the line “Destiel is not a story we are telling each other. Destiel is a story we are being told.” and bless).

You should also consider pimping your essay a bit, because there are a lot of posts and gifsets about how Destiel is regularly paralleled with canon couples on Supernatural, or follows the same rules as romantic relationships in movies. Here’s a bunch of them: Destiel and Sam/JessDestiel vs Dean/AnnaDestiel vs Sam/Amelia, Destiel vs David/VioletDestiel and Spuffy, Destiel and Clexa, Destiel and Phoebe/ColeDestiel vs Charlie/Gilda, Destiel vs every other couple on SupernaturalDestiel and Lucifer having funDestiel and romantic movies, Destiel and the Doctor, Destiel and Belle/Rumplestiltskin, Destiel and Tangled, Destiel and Saileen, and, of course, the beautiful and despairing trainwreck that was Repo Man.

And finally, there was that one time I went crazy and spent an entire weekend mapping every single love trope they’ve ever used around those two idiots in love, because I was just that fed up and the thing’s there, okay, and the more they say it’s not the more layers of tropes and mirrors and longing glances and narrative parallels they keep slathering on top of this thing, so, whatever and who even knows. At this point, you’re free to say it’ll never go canon because they’re homophobic or assume their audience is homophobic, and you’re free to say it’ll never go canon because of internal narrative reasons (God knows both Dean and Cas are never going to believe they’re actually good enough for each other), but to say there’s nothing there at all - that’s beyond whatever.

Anyway, my post is here, and these were the final conclusions:

As you may have guessed, this is something I’m sort of interested in - I came for the monsters and started to reblog stuff out of spite when I realized I was being treated like a crazy fangirl who sees love everywhere because women (right). If you’re looking for more sugary goodness, I tag stuff as destiel, spn meta (my own opinions), awesome meta (other people’s opinions), love tropes and parallels, and you can also have a look at some excellent meta writers who have eyes and therefore see Destiel and sometimes discuss it - people like @elizabethrobertajones​, @grey2510​, @tinkdw​, @bluestar86​, @mittensmorgul​, @floralmotif​, @k-vichan, @treefrogie84, @thevioletcaptain or @postmodernmulticoloredcloak (and I know I’m forgetting someone - that’s what sleeping four hours does to you, sorry). So, again - I know this post is a bit ‘join our cult’ (which is what you asked for, but still), but really - what I like about this fandom is that we can talk about stuff and we can disagree about stuff and still be friends, but this new idea currently spreading in the real world like wildfire - that not only you can have your own opinions (totally legit), but you can also have your own facts - nope. I hope your friend reads your essay (you’re welcome to share it, by the way) and sees that yes, there’s objectively something going on. If they still don’t, the final test is, “What if Cas were a woman? Would you see it then?” 

(And we all know the answer to that question, don’t we?)

Seriously, good luck.

EDIT - More great meta

( @destielisgonnabecanon - you’re welcome! Go win that bet! 😁)

anonymous asked:

can you post fics that are explicit and mature and have over 40-50 chaps? i finished interstellar transmission for the third time and just got done reading thwarted so i’m desperate for something new again lol!

I certainly do!! Here is my Word Count ~90,000 rec, and here are some mature/explicit Reylo fics for you, ranging between 40 and 76 chapters. <3 Suggestions welcome!


+ - fic is mature/explicit

* - fic is incomplete


+ Agency by sorati

+ Strategic Alliances by Wissixwe

+ Playing With Fire by ChloeFandomQueen

*+ You Could Be the Only One by thereylovoid13

+ Get Out While You Can by iliveinthemoon

+ Buried Light by glitter_ature

+ Galaxy Under Siege by jitterygummy

+ Better Lucky by gallifrey_skies

+ He Knows He Needs to Stop by Perry_Downing

+ Undisclosed Desires by iliveinthemoon

+ Snare by CaraRose

+ Ghosts of the Past by blueenvelopes935

+ The Chosen One by blueenvelopes935

+ Within Monsters by AnonymousMink

+ Commemoration by CharlotteCAgain

+ Interstellar Transmissions by LovelyThings and ricca_riot

+ A Collision of Stars by dustoftheancients

+ Redemption and Ruin by BregoBeauty

+ I Can’t Love You In The Dark by iliveinthemoon

*+ Let the Light In by muninnfanworks

*+ The Great Big No by dietplainlite

*+ Suffocating in Stardust by Chibirini1

*+ Breaking Point by Alania 

+ Thwarted by Perry_Downing

Half of Me, Half of You | Nesta x Cassian

Summary: Four months have passed since Cassian and Nesta started training in the Illyrian mountains. After weeks of healing, of breaking down and being put back together, their mating bond clicks. Everything changes. Nesta finds herself used to their shared nights in their tent, and to all the things she had rejected for herself, for so long. This is a look into one of those nights when Cassian comes to his mate. For the first time, he’s the one that breaks down. || post-acofas

Genre: fluff/angst

Warning: this chapter is marked as explicit.

Words: 8188

 A/N: Inspired by this ask. Also inspired by the ideas that my lovelies @ekaterinakostrova and @mariamuses gave me. Thank you for keeping my nessian heart warm and broken, girls! Hope you enjoy this!! 

P.S.: I’m tagging the people who asked me to be tagged at the end. If you want to be part of my permanent tag list, please do tell me! Thank you for reading, lovelies, please do leave me any comments/opinions/suggestions. They are always welcome. Until next time! xx

masterlist | headcanons page | ask box | read it on ao3

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anonymous asked:


heLLO HI WELCOME TO YOONMIN HELL - I don’t know what you’ve already read? or even what you’re into? but i’ll try to cover the basics

okay this is getting really fucking long. i’ve a ton more to recommend though? anon come back when you finish all these classics and we can get into the moderns LOL

fyi i have a fic rec tag which i update occasionally as i find particularly interesting fics that i’ve read recently!

But Here You Are (SP x Reader)

Prompt: “Out of all the people I know, I never thought I’d fall in love with you” “But here you are.”

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Word Count: 1125

Warnings: None

A/N: Im greatly enjoying writing these and I hope everyone is enjoying reading them. Not guaranteeing anything I write will meet canon. If anyone has any requests Im willing to try them out. Also highly considering putting my OC imagine idea into a short imagine. Constructive suggestions welcomed!


Quarter past eleven on a Friday night and the most exciting thing you could bring yourself to do was curl up with a book. The living room window open, a cool fall breeze ruffling the curtains on the large window, the quiet of the night bringing a sense of restfulness with it. Your house sat in a small neighborhood just on the south side of the tracks. Old and in need of a little cosmetic help, you and your father had done your best to make it a home. Flowers in the spring, pumpkins and mums in the fall, christmas lights and a tree for the holidays. Pictures of family adorned the walls while an old family portrait still hung above a worn fireplace.

You’d said goodbye to your mother when you were six, cancer taking her too soon. You’d tried to push your dad to get out there again but his heart hadn’t been in it. He’d said your mother was his one and only and that now it was his job to take care of you. Which was what he was doing tonight, working graveyard at the factory. It’d be a quick chat in the morning over coffee and then you’d part way, him to sleep for the next shit and you’d head to the hotel to clean rooms. Not the most glamorous job in the world, but it put money in the bank and they were willing to give you the weekend shifts since school was back in session.  

Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park had kept your attention most of the evening, barely acknowledging the creak of the back door. Something about her novels just sucked you in; always in the end Miss Austen’s characters got what they wanted. It was something you always craved but rarely ever got, perhaps that was why you loved them so much.

The door closing and footsteps on the linoleum had you wondering, rising from the couch with your book in hand. “Dad, you said you were working graveyard, you aren’t supposed to…” your words cut off by the sight in front of you.

“Hey Princess”, looking at you through a blackening eye and blood seeping from a split lip. Flipping on the main kitchen light and tossing the hardcover on the table, you hurried over to Sweet Pea trying to get a better assessment of what was wrong. Grabbing his chin and turning his head, you could make out a bruise forming along his jaw as well. “Sit at the table, let me get some ice” you said, not giving him a second glance as you turned towards the freezer to find an ice pack. Adrenaline seeped into your blood as the sight of him, trying to lock down the nerves that accompanied you took a deep breath before turning back.

Sweet Pea struggled behind you to get out of the Serpent jacket, his movements stiff. Ice pack wrapped in a dish towel you placed it gently against his jaw, his bruised hand coming to rest atop yours. Placing a quick kiss to his brow, you rested your cheek on top of his head. The kitchen was silent for a while, both of you seemingly lost in your own thoughts. “Are you going to ask me what happened” he questioned, apprehension and exhaustion clear in his tone.

“No” was your simple reply as you put the ice pack behind him on the table, “I’m just glad you showed up here in one piece”. You had learned over the past year and a half to let Sweet Pea tell you what happened in his own good time and at times that would mean he would never tell you. Placing a gentle peck to his lips, you turned towards to stove to start a kettle for tea.

Sweet Pea’s eyes followed you around the kitchen as you fussed about, he knew the signs of nerves. Haltingly rising from the chair, he made his way over to where you were messing with the honey jar. Large hands tenderly grasping your hips,he spun you to look at him. Dark eyes, warm with affection, looked into yours. He brought his hands up to either side of your face, brining his forehead down to rest against yours he kissed you deeply. “Thank you” he all but whispered against your lips, “for everything that you do”.

Closing your eyes you nodded against his forehead, “You’re welcome.” As the kettle whistled, you turned to finish making tea before click off the stove and grabbing your book off the table, tucking it beneath your arm. “Are you coming?” questioning brow as you headed towards the stairs. Heavy footsteps followed behind you, Sweet Pea’s fingers intertwined with yours.

Rooms were a funny thing, they told a lot about a person; from what adorned the wall to the color of the bedding, what nicknacks were on the shelves to the books by the nightstand it was if looking into their soul. Tossing your book on the bed, you headed into your small closet to find something for Sweet Pea to change into. Coming out with a pair of sweatpants he left behind, you tossed them at him before throwing open the bedroom window and pulling the curtains.

Turning from the window, you watched the tall Serpent. He looked a little out of place amongst the twinkle lights and mauve bedding, his large frame towered over the iron bed frame and delicate bedside table. His eyes scanned around the room as if he hadn’t been there a thousand times, it was like he was surprised a girl with garden watercolors on the wall, jane austen novels on the shelves and a cello in the corner could be with someone like him.

Take a sip of your tea, you met him where he stood. Thumb ghosting over his black eye, you kissed him before crawling into bed and reaching for your book. Propping yourself up against the headboard and opening to where you left off, you waited for Sweet Pea to join you. The mattress sinking beneath his weight you scooted over to make sure he had enough room. You were just about to find out what Fanny Price’s answer to Henry Crawford was when the book was plucked from our grasp, Sweet Pea’s teasing brown gaze taking in your annoyed look.

Glancing at the book cover, a chuckle escaping his lips before he tossed it onto the bedside table. Take the hint, you settled down next to him. Nestling your head in the crook of his shoulder you breathed in his scent, old spice and a hint of cigarette invading your senses. “Out of all the people I know, I never thought I’d fall in love with you”, his baritone voice rumbling beneath you. Craning your neck to look at him your eyes softened, “But here you are” you voiced softly. “Here I am…” he whispered as he brought his lips down to meet yours.  

Maybe sometimes your days could end like a Jane Austen novel.

The Troublemaker: Taehyung

**Inspired by this gif

Prompt: Taehyung the troublemaker has taken it upon himself to bring up Y/N’s sexual life with his best friend’s to hers, but not to tease her but because he’s jealous. 

Pairing:Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Mentions of Femdom

**This is purely based off of Taehyung’s video persona!

**Please feel free to give feedback and if you’re in the AMRY and have a few suggestions or a few things you think I should know when writing smut or anything for the boys let me know!

**For anyone reading this who doesn’t follow me, this is my first BTS smut, I know it may suck, and if it does, please do not hesitate to tell me ALL CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED!

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anonymous asked:

Seriously. If writers start charging for fic, fandom is over. Writers who no one wants to pay won't want to write any more. Writers will write what the market demands, rather than what they want to write. Capitalism destroys art. I will have nothing to do with fic writers who charge for fic.

That’s really taking the idea to the extreme, don’t you think? No one is suggesting that all fanfic would be fee-based or that authors who earn commissions wouldn’t also post fic for free. And the idea of writers only writing what the market demands doesn’t give writers much credit in terms of either artistic integrity or the desire to write what interests them. 

You’re totally welcome to never read anything I’ve ever written because I took a commission that one time. I’m not going to force my fics in front of your eyeballs. But I think saying “fandom will die” as a result of the idea is a bit much. 

That’s just my opinion, though. What do the rest of you think?

I Don’t Play Games When It Comes to You; Taehyung [Part 2/7 of the Yandere!BTS Series]

Yandere (ヤンデレ) is a portmanteau of two Japanese words yanderu (病んでる), meaning to be sick, and deredere (デレデレ), which is defined as strongly and deeply exhausted, infatuated, moonstruck, head-over-heels, or lovestruck, but in this case used for “lovestruck.”

Summary: He would do anything to make sure you were his, no matter how extreme. Yandere!Taehyung AU.

Genre: Angst, with suggestions of smut 

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Yandere!AU, obsessive behavior, mentions of murder, psychological abuse, dub-con (dubious consent), mentions of sex 

A/N: Hello! I apologize for the very very late update of this series, but here it is! Thank you all so much for your love and support. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome! 

Consider Before Reading: If you are sensitive to any of the content in the warning, I strongly advise you to not read this one shot. (Disclaimer)

Originally posted by jjks

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I’m back! 

I’m not sure if any of you noticed but I have been MIA on this studyblr for the past many months, and I am very sorry. I have graduated from the IB program now and I am beyond surprised at my IB results (in a good way :)

There’s been so much in this single year for me. Both personally and academically. Growth, loss, new beginnings, stress, studying, so many new adventures, travels, and sadly, goodbyes. I fell into a deep depression towards the end of last year and it was a dark time and place, but I am so glad to have a wonderful support system that helped me find my own way out. 

Regardless! I am back and hopefully will be for a long time, now that I have graduated and have much more free time on my hands. Unlike many of my classmates going to the UK, Europe, US, Canada, HK, etc. who are starting school around August to September, I haven’t even applied yet to university. I am planning to study back in Australia which has a different schedule. I basically have a mini half gap year. 

In this half year I hope to do a ton of studying, and post more study and wellbeing related resources and tips, as well as some pictures of my planner spreads, etc. If you took the time to read this thank you so very much. I have survived my senior year of high school and also the IB diploma, so if you have any questions you are welcome to ask!

Don’t hesitate to send me suggestions on what I should create/share with you guys! 

i promised a couple analysis to some people so… here is another one.

fair warning: this is my own interpretation of things.

anyone who has seen thelma (2017 dir. joachim trier) knows that the family story is neither innocent nor heartwarming (unless you’re… burning ajhsjh) but i found the principle (and examination) of becoming autonomous (and eventual harmony that comes with being liberated) in the family dynamic to be quite thrilling (in a stress inducing way) because at the core of the cinematography we not only find ourselves in a whirlwind of pressure and projections, but also get sucked into possible expectations and personal investment from all sides.

there are exactly three instances in the movie between thelma and her parents  where each character is put on a pedestal - visually - towering over a person while the other is looking up at them, and in all scenes there are three things very clear: for one, readiness that comes in the form of textual/visual autonomy (especially on thelma’s part), the collapse of love (hard focus on the parents), and unpredictability (something we expect but the film takes a different course):

in the first instance for example thelma’s mother is  visually - the one opening up about her willingness to get rid of thelma. with the light almost overshadowing half of her face in a hostile manner and the broken cup on the ground that thelma suggests she cleans up since her mother can’t. she ends in a position in which she can threateningly look down at her own daughter from her wheelchair, and trap thelma in a fearsome, intrusive moment. you can read it on her face, the level of detachment (even repulsiveness) and how she’s channeling her own thoughts. the departure from warm welcomes is jarring, realistic since her mother is held up to a certain light that determines her motivations. there are no symbolic “obstructions” in her way anymore (with the father in the “picture” who can do something they’ve discussed vs the father being absent here), and starring down at thelma brings that forward.

the effectiveness of the scene therefore lies in the way it is shot because here the focus is expressively applied to danger. it’s transformative, as the “nature” of the family dynamic drastically changes, and now walks a different but fine line regarding its concerns (the distorted effect of devotion and the idea of being tested by God). the mother neither speaks nor really acts (beyond breaking the cup) for thelma to notice the implications. it’s violent, simple, clear-eyed distance and certainty that make her aware of what she hasn’t heard her parents talk about in the privacy of their bedroom. her mother’s face is an extention of what she has said in a previous moment: “You said that if this doesn’t work out, - We’ll have to face the consequences. No matter how painful it is. Or how much we love her.”, and thelma senses that as a warning.

but curiously nothing happens beyond this exchange. so, the emotionally volatile situation in this scene is far more gripping since its reminiscent of the thelma/parents tea cup moment where they drug her with the drink after her return to her home. with a tea cup broken now, the “help” thelma thought she’d receive shatters as well - the parents give up on their daughter. so, for thelma this means that everything she does from this point on (in the name of her parents that is: being who they want her to be) will mean her own downfall, is of “no use”, no matter how well intended her actions could be. 

furthermore, i feel that this scene creates one of the bigger stages for thelma wanting to become autonomous, someone who can live without the control of the parents over her life and who doesn’t need to rectify “wrong-doings” (there is one thing she comes to heal and i will discuss that in the third instance) but can be herself, because with the revelation of where her parents stand now - emotionally as well as physically - she knows it’s time to go.

the reason the parents represent such powerful roles has to do with the currency of power within these form of characters (outside of supernatural elements): the withholding from certain experiences, medical abuse, and “ideal Self” that thelma has to Be (again, things tied to devotion and a certain path).

in the second instance it becomes even clearer. right after the mother/daughter stare-down moment we cut to thelma and her father and get a similar work of character position, with thelma looking up at her father and the father looking down at her. the difference comes in the way thelma engages with him. in a previous scene she reveals to anja that she talks to her father about everything, which is true. so, unlike with her mother who just looks down at thelma and the broken cup (and note that thelma’s mother holds the power in that moment through position and lighting), with her father thelma feels more on eye level despite the camera positing them to certain heights and reveals what she knows: “I went to see grandma at the hospital. Are you doing the same thing to me?”

with thelma speaking up (all of her words and expressions are a dare in that scene) she not only comes closer to being as powerful as a parental figure - the potency of acting diluted is strong, she could of have done that, but she denies her father the delusion - finally giving words to the ruinous nature of their relationship (she demonstrates the effect they all have on one another by challenging her father in doing exactly what he expects), but she actually asks him “Could you please let me go?” turning the entire situation upside down, gaining some type of control (autonomy) even in that visual position, because thelma wants to save herself and now understands to a much higher degree that her parents won’t do so. in that sense, the gravity of her quest, and the power of her anger are bigger than the powers that have animated her entire life (and what the father fails to see as a warning): he still comes to deny her the freedom (and note that she tells God that she is angry with her father, so his decision, “get some sleep”, heightens the feeling of anger).

more importantly, thelma is doing to her father what the mother does to her in the previous stare down moment, but whereas she sees the danger, her father fails to see the potential personal doom, and once thelma takes the pills, boldly looks her father in the eyes (opening her mouth in a mocking gesture because he always checks whether she really swallowed them down) and eventually falls asleep, her emotions and powers get mixed together and truly become something bigger than the parents could’ve ever imagined. she’s traumatized, but also just as plain arrogant and resentful as anyone because the framing is about thelma learning, not following. it’s a paradigm shift from what she used to know, and we are therefore meant to reinterpret everything that we know.

the paradox with thelma’s home-return is that she comes closer to revelations and is more aware of what she truly wants than doing what her parents want her to do. with the quiet aggressive revelation of her mother’s feelings and the denial of her father to let her go (he struggles with his choice which is why he gets on the boat in the first place, smoking a cigarette in the place where *spoilers*) thelma comes to understand the whole situation herself. or just - even the way her grandmother actually works as a substitute character is of importance because up to a certain point thelma lives in the belief that she’s been dead for years, and how thelma is supposed to fill that literal gap through dying because her parents see no other way out than killing her… but they forget that with entering her personal hell death is also beneath thelma.

the father *spoiler word* and leaves behind something that is reminiscent of the story we get told about thelma’s grandmother (and note what happens to thelma’s grandmother is neatly tied to thelma’s father because he repeats the same history with his own daughter despite the hard feelings surrounding it), and the healing of thelma’s mother that i feel is mind bogglingly ambiguous:

in the third instance everything comes to life (in every sense of the word). the role reversal is drastic, with the mother looking for the father and thelma appearing and towering over her in a light that is so starkly different from how dark and scary the face of thelma’s mother appears to be in the first instance (and note Jakob Ihre intentionally worked the lighting that way. the purpose is to put these two on opposite ends - not just in terms of position and character arcs but also the fate: theme between life (light) and death (darkness).

the personal history these two women share is striking to say the least because thelma is indirectly the reason why her mother sits in the wheelchair in the first place, trying to commit suicide after *spoilers* and ending up immobile (she loses autonomy in the sense that this is not what she wanted), or thelma suggesting to clean the mess in the kitchen when her mother is unable to and the mother actively and radically exploiting her position because she thinks of killing her daughter. there is something sadistic about it all if you think about it, since thelma (unlike the snake scene where she submits to the feeling with anja by her side) actually embraces the one barrier that has always kept her more distant from her mother (the love that always appeared more blurred), at arms length, and now she is the one doing it, caressing her mothers face all gently.

the same way thelma comes to question the motives of her mother in the first instance, its the mother now who recoils from thelma’s soft touch because the uncertainty the scene carries fills every single frame. she recognizes thelma as a separate entity now which also misleads from what thelma is truly about to do than kill her own mother. during the first instance, when thelma looks up at her mother she smiles at first, trying to go for a warmer gesture while she picks up the pieces of the broken cup until she recognizes the vicious expression on her mothers face and recoils in fear. this time she smiles as well while caressing her mother and then puts down her hand on her mother’s thigh to heal her legs, but for a different reason because she straightforwardly conceded her own battle and now embraces herself. it doesn’t surprise thelma, the way she can use her ability. she accepts this understanding of her own identity for what it is and in a very hard-hitting twist she also doesn’t allow her mother anything more than that. she won’t absolve her, she won’t forgive her, she won’t even accept whatever protection her mother might want to give after all this time. thelma throws herself symbolically through death (darkness) headfirst (the fact that she swims deep in the lake) and comes out alive, and when her mother screams, “thelma! don’t go” thelma does what her father used to deny her. 

so, with thelma in the picture now, bathed in light that gives away the fact that she’s come to accept herself (the harmony/liberation of it all) and has found a way to control her powers (we go from restrained to unrestrained), she also sets her mother free from the past in a way, by healing her, for good and bad, in her new position (there is a paradox in how her mother mentioned God would be testing her and the father, and eventually it appears that thelma is divine).

she let’s completely go.

find a way

for @alrightpotter

happy birthday ellie! you are one of the gentlest, most vivacious and all round wonderful people i know and i’m so lucky we stumbled across each other. your writing brings me so much joy – so i hope you enjoy this, which pales in comparison to anything you’ve ever written!

this is the zombie apocalypse au i never thought i would write.

word count; 2,306

It happens in April.

It happens slowly, painfully and, worst of all, anonymously.

No one knows what it is. Where it comes from. Why it is happening.

It just comes.

Mrs Evans falls on the eighth day, Mr Evans on the ninth. They’re too old and frail to have a chance of withstanding it. Petunia is in London, her fate is a mystery.

Lily gets out on the twelfth day. Alone, quickly.

She packs her bags and runs, leaving her parents locked in their bedroom, knowing that someone will find them and put them out of their misery, but refusing to be the one.

On the radio, the ones that work after sixty-six days, crackling and stuttering, news of a safe place is repeated. If it is safe for you to do so, head to London. The government will protect us.

It’s surreal. It’s American. It’s too farfetched to be true. But it is.

Lily learns to survive. Alone, quickly.

When you need to, it comes easily. The running, the cold nights, the silence, the screaming. It is a necessity and so Lily learns.

At one point, she almost gives up. It’s the eighty-first day. They’re everywhere. There’s too many. But she gets out. She runs and runs and runs, and doesn’t stop until her knees are bloody and her hands are scraped and she’s fallen over so many times she can’t get up.


They find her on the hundredth day.

Keep reading

hs-killjam  asked:

thank you so much for doing these reactions! you're really great and it's nice to see active reaction blogs (I came in late to the fandom so this is a blessing) How would romanced companions react to sole walking up to them, but they accidentally trip and fall while doing so. Before companions could say or do anything, sole says "looks like I fell for you again!"

You are very welcome, thank you for taking the time to read them!

Cait – She would just scoff and lightly punch their arm with a cheeky grin. “There are more subtle ways to hint for a shag, ya know.” She’d cock her eyebrow suggestively before muttering softly with a shake of her head. “Ya cheeky little shite.”

Curie – The little synth would blush profusely, trying to get something legible from her mouth but ended up just giggling and blushing some more before hugging Sole tightly, wondering just how she could be so lucky to have Sole fall in love with her.

Danse – To his own horror the Paladin would blush, surprise on his features as he too would stutter and try to rack his head for something clever to say before giving up and offering a courteous nod in his attempt to try and at least appear aloof to everyone else.

Deacon – Behind his shades Deacon would cock an eyebrow and cross his arms, shaking his head slightly as he regards Sole. “That was my line! I can’t believe you’d do this to me Sole.” He’d then turn around in mock hurt despite the fact that he loved it. “I’m not putting out for a week now!”

Hancock – He’d laugh a little, charmed at their wit and in the absence of finding any words to say in return he’d pull them in for a tight little hug so he could hide his slight blush, knowing he was the luckiest ghoul in the Commonwealth.

MacCready – The mercenary would just laugh with a shake of his head, secretly charmed but he’ll be damned if he let Sole know something like that could make him smitten for them so easily. “Lame,” He’d mutter with a smirk. “So lame. You can do better than that.”

Nick Valentine – The detective would chuckle quietly to himself with an easy smirk. “Kid, you’re gonna have to come up something a little less old to charm the pants off of me.” He’d have heard that cheesy line far too many times in his lifetime, not all necessarily directed at him per say, but coming from Sole he was glad he wasn’t capable of blushing.

Piper Wright – She would blush and try and say something sarcastic, but her words would jumble and she would be a stuttering, giggling mess at how cute they were. She’d resort to pulling her cap down over her eyes in an attempt to hide her face before giving Sole a tight hug.

Preston Garvey – He would flush and look away, smiling to himself as he tries to think of something to say in return but could only clear his throat and laugh a little, utterly charmed. He’d adjust his hat and give them a little kiss before returning to his patrol.

X6-88 – He’d cock his eyebrow and smirk a little, depending upon where they were he might even draw Sole in for a quick appreciative kiss.

I’ll Be Around for You

Howdy, kiddos, and welcome to the first installment of my ghost Laurens au! This AU follows history, so be prepared for some canonical character deaths. I’m so excited for you to finally be able to read at least this first part, and can’t wait to share the rest with you! A huge thanks to the anon who suggested I do this series! Buckle up those angst seatbelts, kiddos, because OHOHOHO, you’re in for a wild ride ;)))

PART ONE: Look at my son!
January 1782

“Oh my god, Eliza,” Alexander exclaimed.

He’d just arrived in Albany and had flown up the stairs of the Schuyler Mansion, barely saying hello to Mrs. Schuyler and the youngest of the Schuyler children who were gathered downstairs. In the second room on the right was the room he knew he’d find his wife in; the room that was once her’s and Angelica’s and Peggy’s, and was now Cornelia’s and Catherine’s. The room where Eliza was lying in bed, their newborn son, asleep, cradled in her arms.

“Oh my––” Alexander couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes as he took in his beautiful son–– skin a healthy tan, just like his father’s, hair no more than a brown halo glowing atop his head.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Eliza said, her voice soft and tired.

Alexander took her in, her pale skin even paler than usual, dark circles under her eyes where there previously hadn’t been even a trace before, her black hair frizzy instead of its usual sleek. Her eyes were fluttering shut in the way they did only when she’d been kept up too long. The first time he’d seen her do this had been at that fateful ball in Morristown, in the winter of 1780. And here they were, the winter of 1782, their first child safely delivered into the world.

He walked forward and ran a hand through Eliza’s hair. She shut her eyes, leaning into the touch. They stayed like that for a few moments–– Eliza finally relaxed now that her husband was there, Philip sleeping, Alexander marvelling at the fact that he had a family after so many years of feeling rootless, of feeling like he always had to prove himself to keep his place. Even in Washington’s military family, where he knew of his value, his worth, he never felt entirely secure. But here, with Eliza, and now with Philip, he knew he’d found what he’d always been longing for.

“Let me take him,” Alexander offered. “You need some rest, my Eliza.”

“Mmm,” Eliza hummed in agreement, allowing Alexander to lift Philip out of her arms.

Alexander kissed the crown of her head as he bent over to hold his son for the first time.

“Hello,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m your papa,” he said with a delighted laugh.

Philip opened his eyes and blinked once before shutting them again.

Alexander walked over to the window that overlooked the front lawn, the long staircase descending to the dirt road that cut through the trees and pastures. He could see the Hudson, sparkling in the early afternoon sun.

“You outshine the morning sun,” he said to Philip. “My son.” He couldn’t contain the smile that overtook his face.

He heard a quiet knock on the open door and turned to see his father-in-law, Philip Schuyler, standing there, smiling at the two of them before turning his gaze to his sleeping daughter. He strode over to Alexander and baby Philip, eyes locked on his grandson’s peaceful face.

“I remember when she was that small,” he said softly, nodding toward Eliza. “They grow up faster than you’d expect.” He placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Cherish the moments when you can still hold him, son.”

Alexander nodded. “I swear that I’ll be around for him.”

He looked back down at his sleeping son. He couldn’t describe what, exactly, he was feeling. Pride? He thought. No, pride is not the word I’m looking for. There is so much more inside me now.

For once, he was grateful he hadn’t died in the trenches of Yorktown, or while taking the British redoubts. He was grateful to have survived the war. He was grateful that he finally got to know how being complete felt.

August 1782

John Laurens was certain of only one thing: he was dying.

Everything else was a blur. There was the South Carolina heat, the buzzes of the mosquitos and flies that he knew would descend upon him like he’d seen happen to other fallen men, their eyes left half-open, as if they couldn’t bear to stop looking at this world as they entered the next. There was shouting, the whiz of bullets, the groans of the injured, the dying. He wondered if his groans were joining them. He couldn’t tell.

John Laurens had imagined death many, many times in his short life, but he’d always failed to actually imagine how it would feel to die. It wasn’t painless, but it also wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d have guessed it to be.

He’d known the war was over. He’d been there, at Yorktown, with Hamilton, with Lafayette, with Washington. He knew a treaty would be signed, and the Americans would be declared the victors. So why had he not hung up his sword? His gun? Because he longed for death, and that was the one thing he could not honorably give himself. So he prayed that some damned redcoat would do it. And some damned redcoat finally had.

There was one other thing, or person, rather, he could not honorably have. Laurens prayed he wouldn’t be damned to Hell for thinking of the object of his affections as he bled out on the marshy South Carolina ground. But even if he was sent to the icy depths of Hell for all eternity, thinking of Alexander during his last moments on this earth were worth the punishment.

He knew Alexander had all but hung up his own sword and gun. He knew his love was out of harm’s way, at least in the sense of war. He also knew that Alexander could never truly be out of harm’s way because he was Alexander–– a constant danger to himself because he never knew when to stop. Not that John had ever been much of a help in getting him to stop, but he liked to imagine that he had at least provided some aid.

This whole dying business sure had him indulging his own vanity.

He could feel himself slipping, slipping into blackness. It wasn’t a scary darkness, though. It was rather comforting. It made him feel surrounded, protected. He wondered if he’d see his mother first. Oh, how he’d missed her.  

John Laurens took one shuddering gasp, and then breathed no more, his half-open eyes witness to the remaining violence, and, soon, the mournful silence.

Because I love you Pt.3 Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS!!! very detailed anxiety and panic attacks, death, arguments

Request: none

Word Count: 3309

Author Note: This is the end of this series. The story was longer than I had originally expected but I love it. I hope you all do too. I want to thank you all for the continued love and support you give me. Remember to send in your requests and I’m always down to talk to you guys, and feedback is welcomed!! I also suggest you read Parts 1&2 if you are new to this story.

Part 1  Part 2

Because I love you Pt.3

Peter raced off the ship after Tony, following the path that led inside the tower. His heart was clenched in his chest as he walked closer to the door leading into the tower. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter with each step towards the door. Nervous energy ran through every vein in his body as his hand wrapped around the door handle.

Walking inside his mind went blank when he saw you run towards Tony. The embrace of you and Tony tugged at his heart, as his mind wandered to May. He wishes he could hug his Aunt and apologize for not being home, coming clean about everything, to be honest with her.

Peter’s eyes wandered your figure and the state of your being. Your Y/H/C hair was a mess that was thrown up in a bun. The shirt you were wearing was a bit big for you, Peter figured it was one of Tony’s. When Tony pulled you out of the embrace, he noticed the dark circles that run under your eyes. The puffiness that engulfed your under-eye. The tear-stained cheeks with black mascara that trailed along the outer edges. Even looking a mess, Peter only saw the true beauty that he thought you were, no matter what you looked like Peter thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

As he got lost in your beauty, you were pulled into a family. He let his eyes travel along your body, from the top of your head where Tony had just laid a kiss on to the hem of the shirt you wore. Once his eyes reached the bottom of the dark gray shirt, he noticed the black lace that peaked out just past the hem. Peter’s eyes widen at the sight causing him to clear his throat.

Having you turn to face him, his mind again went blank as his eyes caught a familiar sight. His shirt was the one that hung over your shoulders and dropped down just enough to cover everything. His heartbeat skyrocketed once you were facing him staring into his chocolate brown eyes with your Y/E/C ones. His heart only beat faster seeing you in one of his shirts, he never thought you’d wear one. His eyes caught your lips moving but his ears didn’t register your sweet voice because he was still lost in the thought you in one of his shirts that he only dreamed of happening.

Peter felt your arms around him, as you rested your head on his chest. He sensed the grip you held on him. Peter was shocked a little at first but quickly relaxed into your touch, wrapping his arms around your waist. His nose inhaling the soft scent of your shampoo as he buried his face into your neck. He tried to pull you closer to him to make sure you were real and not some sick mind trick. As he pulled you closer to him, he felt his shirt that hugged your body shift upwards.

Tony quick to notice the lace that his daughter was wearing, shouted for you to go put on pants. Peter felt you stiffen up slightly, as he reluctantly let you go from his arms. His eyes caught a glimpse of the red that covered your cheeks with embarrassment as he felt his own redness begin to cover his cheeks.

He watched you run down the hall to your bedroom, wishing he could follow or even better if you didn’t have to leave. His eyes longed to stare into yours or to be admiring your beauty. Peter must have been staring too long because Tony noticed the way he looked at the hallway. Tony knew of Peter’s crush on his daughter and he also found the way you looked at Peter was the same way he looked at Pepper. Tony saw the way Peter looked at you when you two were in the same room, he heard the way Peter talked about you, in admiration.

Tony smiled at the longing boy, clearing his throat although not loud enough to catch his attention. Tony looked over at Pepper who just smiled at him, as he dramatically clearing his throat, brought him the attention of the boy.

“Just don’t do anything I would do, and especially don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Tony spoke sternly towards Peter with a little smirk playing on his lips.

“Mr. Stark… I… Umm… I can’t…” Peter stumbling over his words with his face showing off his nerves.

“Just relax kid, trust me. Remember constant is a must thing, otherwise, I will kill you by drop kicking you off a building.” Tony said with a small wink.

“Of course Mr. Stark… Constant is always a must…like I would never not her at least… I mean I’d never do that with any girl without constant…well, not that as in intercourse…because I mean not unless she wants…”

“Just Go.” Tony cut off the boy’s ramblings, as he laced his fingers with Pepper’s. Peter ran off down the hall towards your room.

Running into your room, your heart raced as the tears continue to fall down your red cheeks. They were alive your thoughts traveled throughout your mind. Coming to the dresser where you kept your shorts, quickly open the dark wood draw your eyes scanned the shorts grabbing the first pair they landed on. Stepping into the soft fabric of your shorts, your eyes caught sight of what you looked like in your vanity mirror.

The black mascara that ran down your cheeks triggered your throat to close up as your lungs tried to gasp for air. Your heart pounded like it was in your ears. Your mind flashed back to a few days ago, standing in front of the bathroom mirror scrubbing off the black smears of ash. The screams echoed in your ears, the images of running through Queens to Manhattan played out like a movie. The men and women kneeling near piles of ashes as tears streamed down their faces, the noises from car accidents, the sirens that sounded off in the distance in the back of your movie. Your heart pounded against your breastbone, sounding like someone banging down a door. You felt frozen as your eyes were glued to the mirror. The sweat that dripped down your neck made its way down your spine, as the clamminess came to the palms of your hands.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice shouted from your doorway. His voice wasn’t part of the movie that played in your mind, his sweet voice is what made your eyes blink away from the image that made you freeze. He was your rock when you needed to be grounded. Your eyes shifted down to the wooden box on the vanity as another tear fell down your cheek.

Peter walked over standing in between you and the image in the mirror. He put his hands on your shoulders holding you, he knew what was happening he just pulled you into a hug holding you. He heard you sniffle and knew that you hadn’t gone off the deep end, you were still with him. He pulled away looking deep into your eyes with his chocolate ones.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He noticed how the tears kept falling down your cheeks.

“Peter…It’s Aunt May…she…”

“Yeah, I know she must be pissed at me for not being home or answering the phone. But I’ll see her when I go home.” Peter cut off your sentence.

“Pete…she…she wanted me to… to tell you… she loves you.” You finally choked out the sentence.

Peter’s features shown of confusion as his brows curled, he knew May loved him. “What do you mean?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak the words that you dreaded since it happened. You brought your finger up and pointed towards the box on the vanity. Peter’s eyes followed your fingertip to where it was pointing. His eyes landed on a box that he knew was from May’s room, his thoughts pieced together everything. He walked over picking up the box, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see May later or every for that fact. He wouldn’t have to apologize for not being home or hear her voice yell at him for not answering his phone because she is worried sick about him.

He held her in his arms as he dropped to the ground on his knees. Hunched over as his fingers clenched around the box. The tears streamed down his cheekbones like waterfalls. Walking over to him, you sat down placing your right arm on his shoulder. He turned into your touch, as he rested his head on your shoulder letting the tears fall, his body began to shake out of pure sadness. You kept your arms around him as he continued to cry just slowly rocking him back n forth. You mindless played with his soft curls and drew circles on his back, knowing these would calm him down a little.

Peter began to sniffle, sitting up a little. “How do you know it was her?”

“I was with her watching the news coverage of Wakanda when it happened…” you spoke softly letting Peter out of your arms.

“Why were you with her?” Peter voiced sounding like a jealous girlfriend in a cheesy high school romance movie. Peter looked defensive as his features played out in confusion, you let this one slide knowing how hard these things must be to hear. Hearing the last bit of family he had left was gone.

“I wanted to visit with her for a while and I was covering for you like I do.” you said trying to give him a small smile.

“No one ever asked you to do that.” Peter’s voice sounded harsh as he snapped at you.

“I know… but I wanted to visit with her.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Okay, look I know it is a rough time right now but you don’t have any right to take it out on me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Peter looked over at you, his normal soft chocolate brown eyes were now puffy, red and they seemed dark as they glared at you.

“You have no idea how I am feeling.”

Shaking your head in a little disbelief at his current thoughts on life. Before patting his back and standing up, you said. “You are right Pete, I don’t, but I do know what type of hell I have gone through these last few days.”

“Yeah, what kind of hell was that? Not knowing what to binge on Netflix or was it that your dry cleaner turned to dust and you couldn’t wear what you wanted? No, I know what it was…you didn’t have charity case Peter Parker around to make you feel less guilty about the wealth you have…oh, I’m sorry, your daddy has.” Peter’s words spilled out of his lips, sounding like venom to your ears. Peter’s voice spoke of his guilt and anger but that isn’t how your mind perceived it.

Peter’s mind went blank with guilt and anger. The guilt quickly consumed him as his eyes met the box, as he fell to the ground. The guilt that took over his body, his thoughts…him. His voice spilled nothing but pure hate towards the girl he had a huge crush one and was pretty sure he was in love with. He felt his mind drift to the questions that haunt him now, Why did Y/N get to be with May as she died? It was unfair, he had to protect the city, the world, to protect May… to protect Y/N. How is it that when someone he loves dies, he isn’t there to be with them? Why couldn’t he be there to hear his aunt’s voice speak her last words?

The thoughts stopped when you turned, looking at Peter in complete awe of what his voice spilled. When your eyes met him, he began to think of the harsh, angry, completely untrue words he spoke to you. He realized the anger he had for himself, the guilt that powered those words caused you to look at him this way. He spoke the worse words to the one person who was there for May as she passed, the one person who made sure May got to her family, to the person who collected May before doing anything about their own family. Peter felt like his heart was covered in ice as it slipped into his stomach.

“No…” You felt tears form on the edge of your eyes.

“Y/N…” Peter tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him.

“Shut it, Parker.” You growled, taking a deep breath before you continued. Knowing that the next part was going to be hard, you didn’t want your voice to sound shaky.

“I watched and held May as she turned to dust in my fingers. I watched on the T.V. as my most of family turned to ash and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. I collected May but before I could the wind blew her onto my lap. I ran through Queens all the way to Manhattan looking at a city crying out in pain. I watched kids scream out for mommy and daddy, not knowing the pile of ash in front of them is their parents. Do you know what it was like to think about not only my dad but you up in space? I ran here hoping like hell that Pepper was alive. Have you ever felt your heart drop into your stomach only to have it eaten by the pit of anxiety and fear? Do you know what I go through every time you or my dad go on missions? Or how about have it when you close your eyes all you see is May’s eyes boring into your soul? Maybe you want nightmares of everyone you love dead, lying next to you. Or have them turn to ash and cover you, till you suffocate? No? Not good enough? Fine then, wake up screaming because you think you are covered in the ashes of everyone you love? God! Peter do you know what I think about when you or my dad go on missions, or what it is like when you both go on missions? I never know if I am going to be fatherless or boyfriendless. Like the worry that rushes into my thoughts just about…”

You were cut off mid-rant by a pair of soft lips against yours. You melted into the kiss letting your mind go blank as your heart rate increase. Peter’s hands held your face, as he kept his lips placed on yours. The kiss was soft and filled with sorrow, and desperation. As much as you never wanted to leave Peter’s lips, he had to hear the rest of this.

Gently pushing Peter away, breaking the kiss you began to speak in less rant fuelled tone. “Kissing me, isn’t going to help your case, Pete. Just for once I wish you wouldn’t run off to fight, to save the world…”

“That’s my job Y/N, I’d thought you’d be more accepting at least more understanding than others.” Peter said cutting you off again.

“Peter, don’t you get it. I never wanted my dad to be Iron Man; I didn’t want the love of my life also be Spider-Man, but here I am. This is my life. I hate watching you become more like my dad. Anything for the greater good right? Even if that means you’ll die. I watched my dad throw a missile into a whole in space, I never thought I’d see him again. To hear him say he loves me or for him to see me graduate. Peter I don’t want to lose you…I don’t because I love you… In my dreams it was always you, I was always holding onto your dead body, covered in your ashes…”You felt the tears fall as you squeaked out the ending.

You finally admitted what was happening in your dreams to someone. You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you into their chest. You kept crying as Peter’s fingers ran through your hair, rubbing the middle of your back with his other hand. You continued to pour out tears as your wrapped your arms around his torso, gripping onto the back of his suit like he was going to turn to ash in your between your fingers at any moment. Peter placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, he gently pushed you away from his chest. Looking into your eyes, his thumbs pushed away the falling tears as he gave you a weak smile.

Peter leaned over kissing your tear stained cheeks first the right then the left and then your forehead. Quickly Peter began pressing kisses all over your face, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips. Peter felt his heart sore into the sky by the sound of your laugh. His mind raced over everything you said, boyfriendless… love of your life was him… you loved him… you cared deeply about him by how you acted over everything. He couldn’t believe it. Peter stopped kissing you as his lips hovered over yours, waiting to feel them pressed against his again.

The peppering of kissing stopped you glanced up at Peter, who was hovering over your lips. You realized he was waiting for your response to his silent question. You leaned up meeting Peter’s lips half-way, bringing your hands from the back of his suit to the front pushing up on his shoulders getting closer to him. Peter’s hand dropped to your waist as the other remained holding your face. The coldness that once gripped Peter’s heart was shattered by your kiss.

Peter gently pulled away, leaning his forehead on yours. “I’m so sorry…”

You leaned over giving him a peck on the lips, pulling away smiling. “I’m sorry too.”

“So you love me huh?” Peter asked leaning down closer to you again.

“Maybe…” you said as your lips pulled into a smirk.

“Only maybe, then maybe I love you too.” He spoke with a smirk playing on his lips as they met yours.

The kiss felt different than the others that occurred tonight. Peter felt like he wanted you, he wanted all of you, the kiss projected that feeling. Was that what passion felt like? Maybe this was lust? Maybe it was the hormones? Your mind stopped trying to figure this out when Peter snaked his arms around your thighs picking you up off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. The kiss became more heated, by you not Peter. You tugged on Peter’s bottom lip, as your hands brought him closer deepening the kiss.

Peter walked over to your bed, laying you down as he held himself above you on his forearms. Both of you were lost in each other, as Tony walked into the doorway. His eyes landed on the two of you, his mouth slightly ajar at the sight. He was shocked for a moment before he found his voice, “Parker!”

Peter’s head shot up, looking towards the door. His eyes saw the red anger in Tony’s face. Your neck leaned back to see your dad, even upside down you saw the anger on his face.

“Get off my daughter, bug boy.” Tony growled walking towards the two of you.

Peter jumped away from you, slowly backing away from Tony quickly. His back hit the glass doors of your balcony, the chocolate brown eyes never left Tony’s angry face as his hand reached behind him turning the knob. Peter glanced over at you, sending you a wink before he turned and jumped off your balcony swinging his way through the city.

Taglist: @markusstraya @jacquelineisawkward @lokifics @softboy-holland

The Date - Claire’s perspective

So I wrote a ficlet where preschool teacher Claire mistook Jamie, doing the school run for Jenny, for a single father. He eventually cleared that up and asked her out on a date. 

As per usual, it didn’t go according to plan which we saw in the ficlet I wrote from Jamie’s perspective.

And now here’s Claire take on the whole thing!


Claire Beauchamp was not a woman who was easily flustered. She had grown up travelling the world with her archaeologist uncle who taught her how to survive in the wild. It made no sense whatsoever that when she saw Mr. Fraser in his well pressed suit all the well thought out potential conversations in her head ran away. She struggled to have a simple chat without stumbling over her words. His deep blue eyes and slightly stubbly chin didn’t help matters, either. The whole idea that they were going on date in less that twelve hours was beginning to settle in and making her slightly jittery.

Her morning preparations finished, she sat in her classroom sipping her mug of tea before the children started arriving. She could not believe he had actually asked her out. On a date. Just a few days ago she thought he was a single father she had a tiny crush on and at the moment she was just struggling to get through her day at work without chewing her newly painted nails.

“Miss Beauchamp?”

She jumped when a voice interrupt her thoughts and hoped that the sighing in her head hadn’t escaped her mouth.

“Oh! Mr. Fraser?” she squeaked. “How are you?”

Wee Jamie giggled as he pointed at his uncle. He stopped quickly, though,  as both the adults in the room shot him a disapproving set of looks.

“You are more than welcome to put your things in your locker and feed the fish in the aquarium.” Claire proposed. She nodded her head in the direction he should go along with a look suggesting he do it immediately.

“He’s too smart by half.” Jamie laughed. “He doesn’t miss a trick.”

“I know!” she affirmed. “He is reading several years above his age and his other subject are at about the same level. His parents are doing a great job with him, I’d say.”

He blushed crimson.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Fraser!” she stammered. “I really didn’t mean to bring that up again!”

The grinning man reached over to hold Claire’s hand. “It’s really funny, if you think about it. And please, you can call me Jamie.”

Now it was her turn to blush as she batted her eyes.

“And now that you have my mobile number I suppose you can call me Claire.” she sighed. “I’m really looking forward to our date tonight. It’s been awhile since I’ve been out socially.”

Jamie smiled, “I’ll pick you up at six, we’ll be to Lallybroch by half six and then we can have a nice walk to the place I picked out. It’s called The Dunbonnet Inn.”

Claire stood with her mouth open for a good minute trying to take in all the information she was just given. First of all, he was one of The Frasers. The Frasers that owned Lallybroch, the largest working farming business in the country that had been extremely successful in bringing back heirloom foods and animals in the last decade. The Frasers that owned a seventh generation distillery that had received worldwide acclaim. On top of that they were also intense conservationist who donated to like-minded causes in the area.

“I think I read about that in the newspaper last week!” she casually replied. “I hear they have the freshest salmon in the county.”

His phone beeped and after checking it he gave her a peck on the cheek. “I need need to get to an important meeting to go over this new information but I’ll see you at half six. Right?”

She nodded and waved as he left.


Claire stood staring at half a dozen possible outfits she had placed on her bed and tried to decide between them. It wasn’t going well at all. Every single combination she had tried ended up being too something. A perfect look was usually paramount for a first date, but for some reason the way she felt about Jamie was unusual. It was as if she felt a pull to be with him or was it a need to be with him? She wasn’t completely sure but it most assuredly felt right.

With the ideal clothes finally selected, Claire felt much more relaxed and settled down with the book she was currently reading. Unfortunately that feeling left the room when she noticed the time. Jamie was late.

He stood me up! Now Claire, he does have a high pressure job. Maybe something came up at work? I’ll just give him a call.

She carefully dialled his number as she practiced what she’d say when he answered. It rang several times before a very flustered Jamie answered.

“Miss Beauchamp! I am so sorry!” he babbled. “My sister and brother-in-law had to take their youngest to A&E. I can’t apologise enough for not calling you!”

Her heart started beating as fast as a hummingbird’s. “I was hoping it was something.. No. Erm. I’m glad it wasn’t me.” she sputtered.

He laughed. It was swiftly explained that he was struggling to get his niece and nephew settled. She coyly hinted that she could help him if he thought he was up for the challenge.

Twenty five minutes later she knocked on the doors of Lallybroch and was greeted by Jamie and the two banshees she had heard on the phone. He greeted her with a tender kiss as he took her hand to tug her into the house.

What conspired that night would be wistfully remembered by Claire to be their first date, but their worst date by Jamie. Thankfully, for the both of them over the next year there were many more dates as well as much more kissing that led up to their very favourite date - their engagement.

shoutouts to the hp rp community

shoutout to the gif rp’ers of the hp rp community. not only do all of you take the time to figure out makeup and actually come online, but you figure out mannerisms for characters and you grow and develop all the time! you have ideas and you share them in a way people can see! a post or a thread is like a clip from a show or a movie, and that’s so very impressive! you bring laughter and joy and pain and suffering in the best way possible! and you inspire people to join the community and try it out! you also have the courage to put yourself out there and make characters your own! 

shoutout to the writers of the hp rp community. the ones who don’t really like to gif rp, but who will write scripts and/or bring people together to bring your writing to life! the ones who inspire gif rp’ers to create something from your writing. the ones who see the threads and posts others make and write a fic based off it - it’s such a wonderful thing for any creator to see another person be inspired by their work! you might not often, or you might not at all, film gifs, but you do bring amazing creations of your own to the community! 

shoutout to the people who reblog and tag. you’re part of the reason a creator smiles and feels so very proud of their work because they enjoyed it, but now you’re letting them know that you enjoyed it so much to share it with others! you’re the reason more people see what they do! it’s such a compliment to read reactions to something they’ve created. you are a supportive audience who gives advice and suggestions and who’s presence is so very much needed! 

shoutout to the entirety of the hp rp community for being welcoming of people when they join! for being willing to collab when possible and for enjoying what you do! we’re all nerds who happen to have found each other on this website. friends have started from the common ground that is harry potter and have continued to grow. whether creators or not, it’s important to remember that in a community like this it’s okay to feel free to geek out, to make friendships. that we should be respectful and supportive of each other. and along those lines, to remember that interpretations of characters are just that - interpretations. we need to understand boundaries and be willing to understand each other. 

Last page! Yes, we’re out of the shop already~ I must say, Flowey eating is something I like to draw <3

Next, the Inn!! Exciting~ I really want to draw that part~ *u*

Last page / Page 120 / Next page

First page [Ruins] | First page [Snowdin]

* Now, some people wanted Frisk to TALK with the Shopkeeper. 

They did! I just didn’t want to put a whole lot of dialogue in a few pages.  

SO! Under the cut, you will be able to read all that she said:

Keep reading