#fan fiction is amazing

[toointojoelmiller]

Have you ever consumed so many devastating TLOU fics that you your heart was at risk of being permanently broken? Does the thought of Part 2 being filmed right now and our collective timeline inching closer to *that scene* airing on HBO with Pedro and Bella make your palms sweat? Same!

My prescription for you is to read today's spotlight stories and remember that, actually, we can stop torturing these two at any time we'd like. (Personally, I won't, but reading Joel and Ellie father-daughter fluff once in a while is good for general mental health.) I'm always reading and writing angst and @becomethesun's fics always feel like a breath of fresh air - and, of course, makes me even more heartbroken at all of the what-could-and-should-have-beens that TLOU I promised and TLOU II used to torment us. She is currently writing a Sam and Henry live AU (Collaborators) that is an answer to my prayers. The two stories linked here are favourites of mine:

true blue by @becomethesun 18,505 words || 5 chapters featuring: family fluff, Ellie adapting to life in jackson, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets to be a kid

me and my dog (and an impossible view) by @becomethesun 6055 words || one shot featuring: family fluff, good dad Joel Miller, Ellie gets a dog

from @march-flowerr: "If I had to pick one fic only to re read for the

rest of my life, becomethesun’s “true blue is (it feels good to be known so well)” would probably be it. I’m hard pressed to think of a story that I hold dearer than this - five chapters, short but flush with all the small details and nuances of life in Jackson that we don’t get to see in the game. “True Blue” offers such a sweet catharsis while still holding to canon. Becomethesun gives us these compact, bright glimpses into Ellie’s daily life in Jackson: we get to see her goofing off with Dina and Cat, learning to relax into her relationship with Joel, finding her footing in her new family and community. It paints such a tender and clear picture of Ellie as a girl - not Ellie, the ex Fedra cadet, or Ellie the cure - but Ellie as a kid, with friends and questions and ambition and insecurities and a love for her little world so big that it is breathtaking.

In “me and my dog (and an impossible view)”, we’re introduced to Strelka, Ellie’s dog. She finds her as a puppy in an abandoned book store and brings her home to Jackson. Strelka sees her through her through her first rough days of school, sick days and snow days. I don’t really think much more needs to be said about this fic to illustrate just why it’s so good - Ellie gets a cute little dog that makes her happy. What more do you want, people??"

Re-reading these fics feel like coming home. There’s a lyrical cadence to becomethesun's words that I am drawn continuously to. I love the feel of her fics: the syrupy sweet way the story wends itself through from beginning to end, the way that all these intense emotions and elements are whittled down into simple, intimate moments, like making paper crowns with a friend or curling up with your dog after a long day. The real beauty of these fics is the way that becomethesun has chosen to take the small things - the mundane, the day by day - and has chosen to let them shine. To remind us that amidst real horrors - and let’s be real, TLOU has a lot of those - there is still good to be had, that the little things that make up a life well lived - the things we take for granted - are the most important things. That even when it feels like your world is ending, you can still sit on a porch with your family and feel safe. That at the end of the hardest days, you can always come home."

If you read and love this, please please show the author some love and leave a kudos / comment!! Happy fandoming y'all.

Joel Miller isn't dead if we keep him alive y'all.

[valoale]

It never ceases to amaze me how brilliant fan fiction writers are, like, you take bits of something and can turn it into such brilliance and create crazy good plot lines with so much depth and layers and come up with all these ideas, like, literally blows my mind every time. The level of creativity is stunning

Never stop

[bixels]

The more I think about it, the more I question Arcane S2's politics and themes, which were so foundational to S1. Like, a tiny example [SPOILERS AHEAD]:

Singed wins. He gets exactly what he wants in the end. All his "efforts" are rewarded. What does that say about people who share his ideology of eugenics? He is the source of nearly every horrible thing and conflict that happened (Shimmer, the factory deaths, Jinx, Vander as Warwick, the corruption of Viktor), and he gets a happier ending than any other character. Not even a 'he got what he wanted but he has become completely unrecognizable/monstrous to his daughter' tag at the end. You can say they're setting him up and need to open his daughter to future shows, but the way you end a character's story says something about what you think about that character. What does it say when the eugenicist war criminal gets the happy ending he doesn't deserve?

[buckyalpine]

Thinking about authors who have my entire heart an soul in an absolutely unhealthy way cause they're so talented and I'm obsessed with their fics. I'm talking I read them multiple times a day over and over again even though some are years old. I'm talking : @navybrat817 @jobean12-blog @lovelybarnes @povlvr @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @pellucid-constellations @metalbuckaroo @sinner-as-saint @becca-e-barnes @dailyreverie @kinanabinks @dirtychocolatechai @ohtobeleah @dilemmaontwolegs @adrinktostopyourthirst @bucky-barnes-diaries @holylulusworld @bucksfucks @buckymylove @cadencejames87 @themotherofhorses @jessybarnes @wheredafandomat @imyourbratzdoll @buckybabesonly @pocolottie @myfictionaldreams @witchywithwhiskey @ellemj @bucks-babe @buck-buck-buckaroo @heytheredelulu @marvelouslizzie @notafunkiller @ofstarsandvibranium @thevillainswhore @skaye44 @subwaysurf45 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nickfowlerrr @redwing4life @thenhewaswrongaboutme @brook-e-lynns @vesearlee

I'm obsessed.

I love you.

In ways you'll never know.

[slytherheign]

A WALK TO REMEMBER | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SUMMARY: you take one last walk with the love of your life.

WARNINGS: illness (unspecified), HEAVY angst, insecurities, death. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by the movie/novel with the same title, but only slightly. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC BTW, but if you see something that pertains to specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it. also, i’ve planned another part for this focusing on their first walk but it’s still not finished. though when that part comes out, you can either read it as a one-shot or a prequel for this. EDIT: the prequel is out! READ HERE. again, i apologize for the lack of uploads, i just got busy with university and life in general. thank you for understanding and enjoy reading! you might want to get tissues before you proceed.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS AWTR (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

The scent of the hospital permeated the room, mingling with the soft whirring of medical pieces of equipment. You were lying on your hospital bed, your frail form engulfed by the sterile white sheets. Your family surrounded you, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

The doctor entered the room, his expression grave. You watched him closely, a flicker of hope dancing within your eyes. Perhaps there was still a chance, a new treatment or some kind of breakthrough medication.

But as the doctor spoke, his words fell like heavy stones, shattering your fragile heart and optimism. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice laced with regret. "But it seems the treatments have stopped working."

Your heart sank like an anchor in your chest. You felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping for breath. Your family's hushed whispers filled the silence, their words a blur as tears clouded your vision. "I-I don't understand," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"

Your mother's trembling hand reached out to grasp yours, her eyes brimming with tears. "It means we have to consider other options, sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

But you knew what those "other options" meant. It meant more pain, more uncertainty, and the terrifying prospect of saying goodbye. You turned away, burying your face in your pillow as a sob wracked your body.

The doctor spoke with your family and discussed the other options. You listened to his words, but they felt distant, as if they were coming from the end of a long tunnel. You knew what he was saying, and you could grasp the gravity of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to fully process them.

“What do we think?” he asked, looking at your faces for an answer. 

If you were being honest, a part of you didn’t want to try anymore. You didn’t want any more pain. You were already tired—exhausted, even.

But then you remembered him.

You remembered Peter.

And you remembered how you promised him that you would do everything to survive. You promised that you would keep trying until all was well. 

After a moment of unnerving silence, you spoke. “I think we should do it,” you breathed out, looking up at your parents and your doctor. “The other options… let’s do it,” you smiled weakly.

So, that was what you did. You kept trying.

Peter lightly traced the lines on your hand as you waited for your order. Every now and then, he would look up and gaze at you lovingly. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you doing?” you said, smiling.

“Admiring you,” he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours atop the table.

The smile left your face almost instantly. “Even when there’s nothing left to admire?” you stated sadly.

He immediately frowned at that. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying…”

“Y/N…”

“Peter, I’m not the same as I was. I don’t look like what I used to when you fell in love with me.”

“Stop.”

“No, Peter. I’m pale as snow. I look so sick, I’ve lost my hair. This—” you pointed at your head. “This is just a wig. My real hair is gone—the hair that I know you loved playing with and twirling the ends with your finger. I’ve lost a lot of weight—I don’t have the chubby cheeks you loved to pinch anymore. I-I’m so w-weak,” you sniffed. “Look at me, Pete—I can’t even stand on my own feet anymore. I have to be in a wheelchair.��

A tear fell on Peter’s cheek but he quickly wiped it when he noticed the waiter approaching. You immediately turned your face at the window, pretending to look at the parking lot on the other side so the poor waiter wouldn’t notice the emotional distress you were in.

Peter smiled at the waiter. “On second thought, can we take these out?” he gestured to the food. The waiter smiled in return before picking up your table number and taking the food back to pack it up for the two of you. Peter sadly looked at you as you continued to stare at the window. He heard you sniffing and he cursed himself for not knowing the right words to say at the moment. God, if he only knew how to take this pain away from you, he would do it right this instant.

He thanked the waiter, grabbing the paper bag with one hand and placing his other on your cheek to turn your face to him. He wiped the tears with his thumb before moving his hand to clasp yours. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To your favorite place.”  

He sat on the bench beside your wheelchair before opening the takeout bag and handing your food to you. The two of you ate in peace while admiring the sight of the beach in front of you, the cool breeze that swept off the ocean instantly finding its way to your bodies.

You remembered this beach. It was where Peter asked you to be his, and it was where you answered him “yes”. You remembered how it was snowing then, and how both of you thought it was weird, but beautiful nonetheless.

Moments after you finished eating and Peter threw the trash in a garbage can that was nearby, he cleaned his hands with an alcohol spray. He then went back to you, knelt down, and held your hand with both of his. “I have an idea.”

“A good one or a bad one?”

“A good one. A very good one.”

There was a glint of excitement in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at him.

“Well then, count me in,” you smiled.

He smirked before standing up and starting to carry you bridal style. 

“Peter—Pete! What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his eye for some kind of clue to what he was planning on doing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find a clue or anything. “Okay,” you forfeited.

He noticed the slight pout you made and he rolled his eyes jokingly. “You really know how to get me, huh?” he chuckled. “Fine, I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” he said, starting to move his feet towards the beach. “You and I, my love, are going for a walk.”

Peter carried you as he gently walked along the sandy shore, his footsteps leaving imprints that would soon be washed away by the tide. You stared up at him, memorizing his features just like you did every time you would look at him. His hair moved smoothly with the flow of the breeze, his mouth looking perfect as he talked about something you weren’t really paying attention to because you were busy paying attention to his face. And then you wondered how a man as beautiful as him loved you. You smiled, thinking you must’ve done something really good in your life for you to have him.

Seagulls soared overhead, their cries blending with the gentle rustle of the palm trees lining the beach. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, a poignant backdrop to the bittersweet moment you were having.

Right. This was a bittersweet moment. There was something you haven’t told him yet.

“Pete, can we sit for a moment?” he frowned but did what you asked for nonetheless. He set you down gently on the sand, sitting beside you right after. 

You sat in companionable silence, the only sounds you were focusing on now were the sounds of Peter’s breathing and your heart’s beating. With each beat, you drew closer to the inevitable. You needed to tell him what he deserved to know.

“Pete—”

“Y/N—”

You laughed. “Okay, you go first,” you told him.

He smiled. “You were wrong,” he stated after a moment. 

“I’m confused.”

“You were wrong,” he said again. “You were wrong when you said that there is nothing left to admire about you. You were wrong because there is always something to admire about you. When I look at you, I question myself if you’re even real, because surely a person as perfect as you could not exist. The way you smile at the smallest compliments, the way you tilt your head back when you laugh at something, the way your brows knit together when you’re confused, the way your tongue sticks out sometimes when you’re concentrating—everything about you, big and small, I admire them. And I love them.”

“Surely, there are some imperfections in me,” you said.

“Yes, of course, we all have them. But those imperfections are what makes you perfect.”

“But I don’t look the same as I was before—”

“And I don’t care. Y/N, you are perfect in my eyes. Listen to me, I love you. I don’t care if you lost all your hair, or if you lose your teeth, or if you lose everything you have—I don’t care what else you lose as long as I don’t lose you.”

Oh.

As long as he didn’t lose me.

Your heart should’ve leaped with joy when you heard those words. But instead, it shattered like a plate of glass getting thrown into a wall. You hated this feeling. And you hated the feeling you would soon make Peter feel.

“Peter…” you called his name. “Pete—I love you,” you sniffed. “I love you,” you repeated. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded, a tear escaping his eyes.

“And because I love you so much… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“They didn’t work,” you cried.

“What didn’t work? I don’t understand.”

“When my treatments stopped working, my family and I decided to try the other options. Those other options,” your voice broke. “Those options didn’t work either, Peter…”

“W-What does that mean?”

“That means that I’m dying, Peter. And there’s nothing left to stop it.”

“No.”

You held both of his hands when you noticed them shaking.

“It’s inevitable,” you explained, looking at his hands instead of focusing on his face. You couldn’t look at him while he was crying. You couldn't do it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“No no no no no.”

“I love you, Peter.” 

“Y-you can’t—no. Maybe there’s still a chanc—”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you kissed his hands. “I love you.”

“What about our dreams, the future we would have? The family we would make? Y/N…”

“Peter, it’s getting cold,” you whispered. “We should go back.”

“But—please, Y/N. Y-You just can’t…”

“Peter, it’s getting really cold…”

“You can’t just leave me, I don’t think I can live without you. I already lost a lot of people—”

“I love you, Peter,” you repeated.

“I–I can’t lose you too…”

And in one frail movement, everything turned black.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the darkness from your eyelids was changed into the blinding white of the hospital room. To your left were machines that connected to your body, the only reason why you were still breathing. To your right was Peter, sound asleep on his chair while he held your hand in his.

If you were back in here, then that would mean one thing… you didn’t have much time left.

Your face was pale and the once vibrant eyes you had were now dimmed by the weight of your illness. Despite the pain that was evident in your features, there was a peacefulness in your expression. You had come to terms with your fate. 

You could feel it. Death. It wasn’t just at your doorstep, it was already beside you, just waiting for the right moment to touch you and consume you. You supposed you should be thankful, for the heavens did not take you yet.

If it would take you within this week, then so be it. But you hoped it would at least be merciful.

If it would take you today, then so be it. But you hoped it would spare you a chance for one more wish. 

One last wish.

To give you time. 

Not more time to live, but just enough.

Just enough time to say goodbye.

“Peter?” you said, squeezing his hand with all the strength you had left.

He woke up, eyes widening when he realized you were awake.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, you swore you saw his eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Your features were drawn with pain and fatigue and your body was weakened by the relentless progression of your illness. But despite your frailty, there was a quiet strength in your eyes, a determination to make the most of the time you had left.

“I don’t think I have much time left,” you admitted.

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he stood up to lean in and kiss your forehead, his heart breaking at the thought of losing you. He sat back down again, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of love and sorrow. He longed to take away your pain, to make you whole again, but he knew that was beyond his power.

"I'm sorry, Peter," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things could have been different."

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart breaking at the sadness in your voice. "Don't apologize" he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We've shared so much love and memories together. Your time may be shorter than what we’ve hoped for, but I’m very lucky and glad that you decided to spend most of it with me."

A small smile played at the corners of your lips and you moved your hand to caress his cheek. "I love you, Peter," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," Peter replied, his voice thick with tears. "More than anything in this world."

“My parents?” you asked.

“They’re outside.”

“Can you please call them for me?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up to fetch your parents. He stayed outside the room to give you and your family some privacy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother immediately ran up to you, stroking both of your cheeks gently with her hands. Your father stood behind her, you could tell by their faces that they’d been crying.

God, you hated seeing them like this.

“Mom, Dad,” you whispered.

“We’re here,” your mother responded, wiping your tears with her thumbs. “We’re right here.”

Your father reached out to hold your hand. “We’re always here.”

“I don’t know w-what to say… I can’t think of words that are nearly enough to express how grateful I am to each of you,” you stated. “Thank you for everything you have done and given me since I was a child. Thank you for reading me bedtime stories when I was little, for bringing me to school and then picking me up when it was done, for cooking my favorite meals, for hugging me when I was sad, for cleaning up my wounds whenever I injured myself while playing, for being there for me through my first period, first heartbreak—I am who I am because of you.”

You glanced at your dad only to see him crying, his grip on your hand getting tighter as if trying to see if the tighter he held you the longer you would stay with them. You never saw him cry like this before.

“We love you so much,” he whispered.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mother added.

Your father agreed, nodding. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re even stronger than me,” he chuckled sadly.

“I love you both so much,” you cried. “I don’t want to leave, but the world has other plans for me… thank you for being the best parents I could ever ask for.”

And there it was.

You could feel death’s hand slowly reach for you. You closed your eyes, it was getting hard to breathe. 

“C-Can you please call Peter?” you breathed out.

With all your might, you opened your eyes again. Peter was now beside you, holding your right hand while both your parents held your left. You stayed like that for a moment, clinging to each other as if you could defy fate itself. But you all knew that you couldn’t.

Your breaths came shallow and labored, each one a struggle against the weight of your failing body. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. But despite your efforts, you couldn't escape the truth that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You could see and hear them crying, the grips they had on your hands getting tighter and tighter and tighter… afraid that if they held you loosely then you would slip away sooner.

But that wasn’t how it worked. A tight grip would not save you. There was nothing they could do to change the inevitable.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, your thoughts began to wander, drifting through memories of happier times. You thought of your childhood, filled with laughter and innocence, and of the love you had shared with your family, with your friends, and with Peter.

The memories faded as soon as they came. And then you felt death’s touch linger on your skin, its distance becoming closer to you than you could ever imagine. Like a distant echo growing louder with each passing moment, the realization dawned on you that your time was running out. You tearfully looked around the room, taking in the faces of your loved ones, each one bearing pain and sorrow.

Your strength continued to wane, your body growing weaker with each second. And as you lay there, surrounded by the ones you loved, you found a sense of peace in knowing that you weren't alone.

With a final breath, you closed your eyes. You welcomed death’s touch with a smile, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned you. And as your family and Peter wept beside you, you drifted away, hoping to have left behind a legacy of love and memories that would live on long after you were gone.

7 MONTHS LATER.

Taking a walk along the beach never felt the same anymore. 

Peter concluded that without you beside him, it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The only fun thing for him, he guessed, was the fact that with each step he walked along the sandy shore, the memories with you played in his head and he would smile as he recounted them. Sometimes, he could even feel your presence somehow.

He ditched his shoes and played with the sand with his feet. It only took him a few minutes before he decided to wear his shoes again and leave the beach.

The next place he decided to visit was the cemetery. He stood across your grave, still not believing that 7 months had passed since you took your final breath. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t miss your presence or longed for your touch. He sat on the grass in front of your tombstone.

“You know…” he started speaking. “Walking along the beach used to be my favorite. After you died and I started doing it again, I wondered why I didn’t like doing it as much as I did before. But now I know why… I realized that it only became my favorite because I was doing it with you.”

He played with the grass with his hands, picking some of them as he tried to hold back his tears. “God, Y/N,  it’s been 7 months and it still hurts the same… I miss you so so much. I miss our walks, our dates—I miss everything about you,” he cried.

“I want to love walking along the beach again, but I know I only loved it in the first place because I was with you,” he continued. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll do those walks again, at least not now… I don’t know… it’s just, without you, I can’t—”

Something just crawled and bit his hand. “Shit,” he swatted the spider, before facing your grave again.

“Anyway, I just want you to know that I will forever treasure those walks that I did with you,” he smiled weakly but genuinely, wiping his tears. “I will never forget them.” 

Especially that last one.

That last walk.

That was a walk to remember.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[kookies2000]

@endomentendo Bunny Doll Wonderland Au fan art. Look, I just like the idea of these two together.

Sketch version.

And the opening to a fan fic I'm working on.

[secretly-a-polar-bear]

I think an interesting concept would be a rival group full of characters that parallels of the characters of the main cast.

Caine’s would probably be a drill sergeant like character that’s named Abel and has a nose as its head with only eye brows to expression himself.

Jax’s character would probably be small fox character, who’s actually pretty nice and actually tries to help gangles parallel when their mask gets broken.

Gangle’s opposite would definitely have the mask motif but probably wear a sad mask but have a happy mask underneath, kinda like a “woe is me” but in a way where it’s obviously fake. I don’t know what their actual body would be, probably cardboard tubes because ribbons are usually sold on a tube, though they could be a knotted string.

Kinger’s would be a checkered piece who’s very level headed that does rebel against Abel a lot.

Now we’re getting to the harder characters, ragatha’s character would be a toy that can’t be changed or moved easily, I was thinking of a little toy soldier, kinda like the ones from Toy Story, I think this little man would be very blunt. I like the concept that the little fox follows them around like they’re this cool older brother.

Ok I know that everyone is going to be asking why I made ragatha’s character a toy that can’t be easily customized when zooble is right there being ripped apart and remade. Well the thing is ragatha is made from a material that can be squished and added too very easily, zooble is made to be customized, that’s their whole gimick. Also zooble is what I can only assume is hard plastic.

Zooble’s oppisite is a slime, I don’t have much on this one, it’s moldeable, but can’t be changed once you add color to it. I don’t have much for its character, it’s just there, but unlike zooble we don’t get the angsty teen attitude, in fact Abel is the only one that knows what it’s saying.

Pomni is probably one of the harder characters to think of, because every archetype is taken. Let’s make them a king/queen, oh we already have royal characters, let’s make them a ringleader because actually pomni’s “jester’s” motif is actually a fool, oh wait there’s Caine. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, idk a maid? While yes in media it’s directly opposite would probably a king or a ringleader leader especially since they’ve basically become lower in status than those characters. Jesters were a pretty high level status, so our best option for an opposite character for pomni would probably be a maid character that’s name roughly translates to forget or something. I’m sure y’all could think of better.

Anyways of course glitch studios isn’t gonna do this idea, because that’s way too many characters in one episode, coffmo already had to be killed off because the main cast was too much. Also then the question of who created them or if they’re npcs. Would come into play. I’d imagine that Caine made them to add more pizzazz to adventures but like, I like to imagine Caine hates Abel so why even make them? I just think this concept is fun and would work for fanfic adventures especially since I’m sure tadc is only getting one season, of course that can change.

[conkers-thecosy]

This is an appreciation post for my fellow fic writers. I love you guys. I frikkin LOVE you! I love being in this community with so many amazing writers, it's so inspiring! Thanks for sharing your ideas, your talent, and your excitement with us all!

[specialtysacrifice]

"Oh fu- that's so asinine, thats... that has nothing to do with you-"

Think He Can Hear Us Through the Walls? (think he wants to get involved) by @ratcoffin69 is very fun !! I loved the scene where they were just talking over eachother I had to draw it.

The text is lifted right from the fic, if ya wanna know what it fully says I'd recommend checking out the fic ;)

[lenaisagirl]

Pomni X Ragatha

Disclaimer! I wrote this on company time. Also this is the first time I've ever shared art online so be nice k thx bye! <3 As Pomni walked around in the second day of her own digital hell, she finally got a chance to note the smaller peculiarities. Music seemed to play no matter where she was. Her footsteps sounded like a royalty-free sound byte, and everything had an unnatural, plastic-y sheen to it.

This only compounded with her other anxious thoughts. What causes abstraction, anyway? How far could she indulge her insanity before she lost it completely, becoming a monster in Caine's cellar?

“Hey, Pomni? You listening?” Ragatha interrupted Pomni's internal monologue, frowning slightly with concern.

“Y-yeah I’m listening. Something about… the concession stands?” Pomni said, shocked out of her stupor. She glanced nervously side to side, looking at the landscape around her. They stood in the middle of the theme park, which was unusually empty for what it was supposed to be. The only presence was a few concession stands manned by empty-faced mannequin NPCs.

Ragatha frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. Moving to Pomni’s front, she crouched down to meet her eye level.

“Hey, new stuff?”

“I know this takes time to get used to… So if you don’t wanna do this, it's okay!” An earnest, sewn-on smile followed her words.

“No, no! This is great. And, um… I really need the company.” said the little jester, as she let out a nervous laugh. In return, Pomni received a soft pat on the head.

“Alright Pomni. I’ll be here as long as you need.” With that, she stood back up, and took a few steps back, holding out her hand to Pomni.

“R-right. That’s – I mean. Thank you.” With a tilted smile, she tentatively reached to accept her hand. While she expected Ragatha’s hand to be a dull, unnaturally smooth surface like everything else - it wasn’t? Beneath her gloves, Pomni could feel real texture, as if she was truly grabbing a ragdoll’s hand. It was a nice change of pace, and brought to her face the first genuine smile she’d had while here.

And so they exited the theme park, quiet at first. Looking towards the night half of the skybox, one could almost be convinced it was a starry night. That is - until you spun around and saw the bright-as-day portion of the skybox.

“Um… Ragatha? Where exactly are we going?” Pomni asked tentatively. It's not that she was distrustful, just shaken up from the past “adventure” and as the lakeside forest of smooth plastic looking trees grew around her, thoughts of losing her tracks crept into her mind.

“Just a little spot out in the forest. Just somewhere away from Jax – er, I mean, the stress of it all. You know.” She held her hand up to her face and chuckled.

“Just - keep it a secret, okay?” She turned around to face Pomni, smiling ever so awkwardly. A kindred spirit, Pomni smiled just as awkwardly in return.

“Well. Here it is.” Letting go of Pomni’s hand, she gestured broadly at the space around them. Really it was just a rock, one of the few bits of decoration that even existed within the forest. Oddly enough, it was actually about chair-shaped. Being so close to the island's edge, Pomni wondered if this was an unfinished overlook.

“It's nice… I think!” As far as cartoonishly digital worlds went, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. Ragatha walked over to the rock, plopping dramatically on top of it and patting the space beside her.

Pomni, much shorter, had to jump slightly, crawling on top of the rock before taking a seat. For a moment, they simply looked onward into the skybox.

“What… what do you think you were like? Y’know. Before all this?” said Pomni cautiously. It was probably a sore spot, but nevertheless she was curious about her new friends.

“Who knows? I don’t think about it too much, uncontrollable insanity and all that.”

The jester nodded. Like she thought - a sore spot, likely for all of them. Ragatha turned her gaze away from the cliff’s edge and toward her friend.

“Maybe… A waitress? Oh, or a dancer. I'm really good on my feet!” Ragatha kicked her legs as she spoke to add emphasis.

“How about you, new stuff? Gee, I hope you don’t mind me calling you new stuff all the time.” She folded her arms, and glanced to the side.

“Nah, I kinda like it. I mean – it's nice to have a friend, is all.” Pomni looked down at her legs, kicking them slightly as she thought of who she might have been.

Did it matter? Would she ever find out? Did she want to know what kind of life she was missing out on? Her pupils started to dilate as panic rose in her system.

“Pomni? We don’t have to talk about it.”

Ragatha interrupted her panic attack – this time with a hand on the shoulder. Looking up from the ground, the poor jester's eyes welled up slightly, reflecting Ragatha’s face back at herself.

“You okay…? Need a hug, new stuff?” Looking in Ragatha's eyes, she saw a worried expression. At least if she was stuck here, there was someone who cared. Merely nodding, Pomni leaned forward, clinging to her raggedy dress fabric. Slightly surprised, Ragatha smiled, wrapping her linen hands around the poor girl.

“T-thank you.” Pomni squeaked out.

“Hey don’t even worry about it. We gotta stick together, right?” Patting Pomni on the head, she softly ruffled the jester hat.

“Right… It’ll be okay.” And for once, she believed it.

[danshive]

The Amazing Digital Circus: Pomni’s Gloves (Fan Fiction)

(Takes place after episode 4)

There was nothing dramatic about what Pomni had been doing. She’d simply been touching a piece of paper, intending to write an adventure suggestion for Caine.

Writing it was likely pointless, but the fast food “adventure” had been a suggestion, so she’d felt it was worth a shot.

What had startled her was the texture of the paper. Rather, that she could feel the subtle texture through gloved hands at all.

Pomni hadn’t really thought about it, but she’d been wearing gloves since she first arrived at the circus, and yet she’d always been able to feel the textures of anything she touched.

Even when her outfit had been transformed into an all black Spudsy’s uniform, she’d kept the blue and red gloves.

Except… Were they gloves?

Pomni, pencil in one hand, the other on paper, froze as she started to question how much of her clothes really were clothes, and how much of her clothes were… Her.

If she touched her Jester cap, would she just feel the cap with her hand?

Would the cap feel her hand back?

Slowly, she set down the pencil. Then, even more slowly, she reached for the nearest end of her cap…

Abruptly, she stopped herself. “Nope!” she declared. “Just… Don’t think about it! I-it’s probably not important anyway!”

Chuckling unnaturally to herself, Pomni walked away, the paper left blank.

Nearby, Jax tilted his head slightly, rabbit ears flopping to the side. “Did Pomni just traumatize herself by writing a suggestion for an adventure?”

[toointojoelmiller]

Update: I continue to work on all things! Nothing is abandoned! New chapters will come!

The actual, fun and exciting update: I'm going to start recommending a few AMAZING TLOU fics that you might have missed on my blog every Saturday for the next while.

I hope you find some new great reads to keep you going while we wait for season 2 - our fandom is seriously so freaking talented, and there are SO many incredibly written fics out there that I want to yell about a bunch of them! Please reblog!

These fics will vary re: how closely they stick to canon and what themes they explore, but you can expect them all to be wonderfully written and, obviously, heavily feature Joel Miller.

Some of these, including this weeks, may include mature content - make sure to read and heed the trigger warnings listed on ao3!

I have never really been interested in fan fiction with OCs, so I missed out on this week's recommendation for a long time and I bet a lot of you did too. It's both a wonderfully told Joel love story and a fic that, in my opinion, really honours the world and characters of TLOU.

Go Your Own Way by @chronicallyonlinewriter 232,575 words || 31 chapters rating: mature [see ao3 tags for full content warnings] featuring: post season/game 1 life in Jackson, angst, fluff, action, romance, smut, plenty of protective Joel and parent Joel

You can check out a review from @march-flowerr below, describing some of what makes this story so special: (vague general spoilers re: themes and mature content)

“Go Your Own Way stands, in my mind, as one of the most well written piece of fiction on Archive of Our Own. Nandorluna has such an intimate and authentic take on the existing characters that we know and love (on Joel and Ellie and all the Jackson gang) but it’s her ability to create stunning, well fleshed out original characters that drew me to her story initially. Her main character, Benny, moves across the story in such a visceral and realistic way; her arc spans not just the present canon timeline, but transports us through an entire lifetime: from childhood to outbreak, to first love, to first loss, to heartbreak and grief and then finally, to her heart’s final resting place: Joel Miller.

Zee manages to write about and embrace such difficult topics as assault, pregnancy loss, and grief without ever once making a show of it. She handles each moment with quiet dignity and intense self reflection; she draws beauty from the hollow depth of heart ache and despair without ever once losing the thread of hope that The Last of Us is known for.

At the heart of Go Your Own Way is the love story of Joel and Benny. Zee manages to create a compelling story about brokenness and connection and the raw, rare glory that is finding someone with whom you can begin to fit yourself together with again. It’s a story of family - of people who when left to wander, find their hearts drawn to each other. It’s a story about love - each relationship, from Benny and Alexei’s long friendship, to Ellie and Joel’s turbulent first years, to Benny and Joel’s steadfast devotion for each other, caters to the soul. It’s a story that I’ve found myself returning to, again and again, in all moods and places in life. If I could change anything about it, it would only be that it did have to end after all."

If you read and love this, please please show the author some love and leave a kudos and comment!! Happy fandoming y'all.

[dariothecat-blog]

The Amazing Digital Circus just landed onto my page. After the episode that aired yesterday I REALLY wanted to draw some TADC art. ^^ First we have Pomni scanning the darkness for danger!

[darushi-chan]

Coming back from the death again to give a little bit of a teaser for the FBKReverseBang

“𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴”, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥.

Dead dove💀🕊️ Oct 23th

@firebloodkink

[musicalmoritz]

One underrated perk of being a multishipper is that I get to take ships I usually interpret as romantic and explore different possible dynamics with them. This is most fun with canon relationships, because I love to imagine that even if they weren’t together romantically, they’d still be important to each other in a platonic sense. I definitely have some pairings that I can’t see as anything other than romantic, so if I’m writing a different ship with one of the characters I’ll usually include the main ship as a one-sided thing. But I have a special place in my heart for pairings that work well both platonically and romantically. Even if they weren’t in love, they’d still be supporting and rooting for each other

[slytherheign]

LATE NIGHT VISITOR | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: college!tasm!peter parker x nursing student!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: a late-night review session for your exams is interrupted when your past disguised as a web-slinging hero with a facial injury comes knocking on your apartment window asking you for help.

WARNINGS: cursing, injuries, trust issues, anxiety, maybe some inaccuracies because i’m not a medical expert, and A LOT of tension. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: partly based on this request sent by anon (thanks for requesting! whoever you are, i’m sorry this took so long. i hope you enjoy this). i added the backstories and the reader being a nursing student plot just to make things more interesting. peter is a college student too but he goes to a different school (i didn’t specify his course bc it’s not that important). again, this is fluff with angst. enjoy reading!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS LATE NIGHT VISITOR (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

The repetitive clicking of a pen was all that could be heard in your room. It was late at night and you were trying to review your notes for an exam tomorrow. You glanced at the digital clock beside your pen holder, sighing as you realized midnight was approaching.

You took a sip of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would be enough to keep you awake for at least a few more hours. You still had 37 pages left to review, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep right now. When you realized that coffee wasn’t enough to keep you awake, you decided to plug in your earphones and play some music from your phone. 

For a moment you thought you heard something outside your window but you shrugged it off, assuming that it was just a branch hitting your window as the wind blew quite harshly at this time of the night. 

But then the noise continued and you had to pause the music to hear it properly. 

Knock, knock, knock.

Confused, you removed the earphones from your ears to investigate the noise. You grabbed a lamp from your bedside table as you took slow little steps to your window. From where you were, you could see someone’s silhouette against the white curtains. The knocking didn’t stop and grew louder with every second, it made you nervous. This was the kind of thing you watched happen in horror movies.

You prepared yourself for a fight as you set aside the curtains, fully expecting to see a thief or someone dangerous. To your surprise, the person was Spider-Man—the city hero you constantly observed from your window every night as he swung by building after building.

You hurriedly set down the lamp you held, immediately opening your window right after to let him in. He was breathing heavily, no doubt just fresh from an intense fight. You noticed the way he was struggling to let himself in, so you helped him get inside and led him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Sorry to intrude,” he apologized, looking around your room. “Looks like you were busy doing something before I came.”

“Oh, I was just reviewing for an exam,” you replied, still in shock at the circumstance. “I-uh… ar-are you okay?”

“No, I actually need your help,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to straighten his back, hissing in pain as he did so. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“What happened?” you asked as you quickly went to your cabinet to grab the medical kit box you use for nursing school. You set it on the bed beside him.

“The usual. Just saving the city. They call me hero, you know,” he chuckled lightly as he saw you jokingly roll your eyes at his answer. “And yet you’re here asking for help from a citizen,” you teased.

“A pretty citizen,” he teased back.

You blushed for a moment before clearing your throat. “Uh–so where do you need my help?”

“My face. He threw his phone at me when he ran off.”

“Well, were you able to catch him?”

“With me on his tail?” he scoffed. “He never stood a chance.”

You washed your hands before sitting beside him. “You’re one lucky person, you know that?” you said, carefully putting your fingers under the edge of his mask as you prepared to take it off.

“How so?” he replied, relishing the feeling of your face close to his.

“Out of all the apartments here, you went into mine all banged up. What a coincidence because I know just how to help you.”

“Well, it’s not really a coincidence since I know you’re a nursing student and you had medical supplies. You’re also the only one I trust who can help me.”

You froze with his words, feeling a sense of fear and betrayal. You just met him, you haven’t told him those details. “How did you know I’m a nursing student?” you asked with a tone of accusation. You immediately stood up straight and removed your hand from his mask.

“Y/N, wait–”

“How did you know my name?”

“Y/N, just listen,” he had his hands up, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t worry. You know me, just wait–”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my mask off and you’ll see.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Well–uh, because… I’m Spider-Man?” he shrugged and then tried to chuckle. You glared at him.

 “Look, can we please just stay calm?” he pleaded. “If I try to hurt you, which will never happen, you can hurt me back and I won’t even try to fight you.”

When you didn’t reply, he spoke again. “I still need your help with my face. Please?” 

You gave in, hesitantly sitting beside him again. “Fine. But you’re leaving once I’m done.”

“Deal.”

You turned his face, putting a finger… and another… then another… underneath his mask until it was enough for you to be able to remove it. His breathing hitched as you slowly, almost teasingly, pulled his mask up.

Halfway through, you already had an idea of who he was. You recognized those lips. Those lips were unforgettable, you had stared at them countless times when they moved as Peter Parker talked. But Peter Parker can’t be Spider-Man… right?

The more you revealed his face, the faster your heart was beating. Your hand rested on his cheek as you used your other hand to remove the mask fully, you felt him lean into your touch.

When you removed it all completely, the first thing you saw was his long curly eyelashes. His eyes were closed, but when he looked up to meet your eyes, it confirmed just about any suspicions you had about who he was. Peter Parker, your best friend that you haven’t seen for so long, the man you had buried feelings for.

“Peter,” you softly called his name.

“Hi,” he smiled. “See, you didn’t have to worry. I’ll never hurt you.”

You smiled back at him, but then you saw a cut just above his left eyebrow. It must’ve been where the phone had an impact. “You really got hurt pretty bad, huh?”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Will you help me?” 

“I don’t know… let me think,” you teased. 

He was looking at you like a sad puppy.

“You’re lucky you’re my best friend,” you smiled. You briefly saw him look at your lips. You cleared your throat. “Umm-okay. So first, I’m gonna clean the area around the wound to prevent any infection. It might sting a little, I promise I’ll be quick.”

He watched you as you grabbed a sterile pad and a bottle of antiseptic. You held his chin to steady his face while your other hand gently cleaned the area around his wound. He closed his eyes as you did so, relishing the feeling of your hand on his face.

It didn’t hurt him, he was used to this kind of pain and injury as Spider-Man, but he still whimpered softly just so he could watch you be worried for him. You looked just like you did when you were a little girl being worried for him whenever he injured himself. 

“I’m sorry, look it’s done,” you said, taking a closer look at the cut to examine the extent of the wound. “It’s not too deep, luckily. But we still need to ensure it heals properly. I’ll apply an adhesive strip to help keep the wound closed as it heals,” you smiled, carefully placing the adhesive strip over the cut, you made sure it aligned with the wound’s edges for optimal healing. 

He was still looking at you. He could get used to this—the sight of you taking care of him. Maybe if he had you to take care of his wounds every time, he wouldn’t feel bad about having injuries. He had always admired how soft and caring you are. He used to tease you for that when you were children, but in all honesty, he only did that because he had a crush on you. Growing up, that little crush grew into something stronger. Even after you moved into an apartment away from where he lived, he still checked your social media to get updated on your life. He also visited you sometimes.

“Thank you for doing this,” he whispered. He was scared to move his face, he didn’t want you to move your hand away. You looked at his eyes, not for too long though, because you knew that if you stared for more than 3 seconds, you’d fall deep into his eyes and do something you weren’t sure he’d want you to do. “I could never say no to you,” you whispered back.

You weren’t sure why you were both whispering, it wasn’t as if you two were scared of making noises. Maybe because you were scared to break the tension that surrounded the two of you. You were so close to him, too close. You knew that it wasn’t too long until one of you had to act on it. If someone did act on it, the line between friendship and something more would be crossed and you’d risk losing each other completely if someone didn’t feel the same.

“There we go. The adhesive strip should hold the skin together. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but it will ensure a better, faster recovery.”

Peter didn’t want you to stop. He hoped this wasn’t the last step.

“Finally, we need to apply a sterile gauze pad to absorb any potential bleeding. I’ll secure it in place with some medical tape.”

The word ‘finally’ made Peter disappointed. After this, what would happen? Would the two of you just go back again to being the two best friends who were too busy with their lives that they barely saw each other? Could he really leave this apartment without having to feel your lips on his?

You gently placed a sterile gauze pad over the area, making sure it covers the cut adequately. You then carefully taped the pad down, ensuring it stayed in place. “The gauze pad will provide an extra layer of protection and help absorb any additional drainage from the wound. Make sure to keep it clean and change it regularly…” you realized this was the last step. In contrast to what you told him earlier, you didn’t want him to leave yet. “Or you could just visit me here again and I’ll clean and change it for you.”

Peter frowned as your hand left his face, he watched you gather your supplies and put them in the box. You stood up, putting the box back to where you got it before washing your hands again. You didn’t know what to do after that, so you just sat beside him again with your head down.

No one dared to speak for a moment. 

It was Peter who broke the silence. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You looked at him to see he was already looking at you. “It was my pleasure, Peter.”

“You’re not angry? Or surprised that I’m Spider-Man? I kept a huge secret from you,” he asked.

“Surprised? Yes. Angry? No,” you admitted. “I mean, we grew up. We don’t see each other often anymore. It was inevitable that there are gonna be things we don’t know about each other anymore.”

“We used to be inseparable,” Peter spoke, remembering the memories you two had before you both went to different schools for college. “What happened to us?”

“Life,” you stated sadly. “We got busy.” 

Peter smiled, a hint of pain behind it. “I’m sorry if I didn’t visit you here that much.”

You reached out to hold his hand. “No, I’m sorry. I got too busy with my course. Sometimes, I forget to reply to your texts. I was so focused on chasing my dreams, I don’t even realize that I’ve completely shut people out.”

He stroked your cheek with his hand, wiping a tear that escaped from your eye. “I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, Pete. So much,” you leaned into his touch. 

“What if I told you that I actually didn’t need your help? As Spider-Man, I’m used to these injuries. I’ve learned how to fix them myself.”

You looked at his eyes; he was looking down. “But you still decided to knock on my window…”

“Yes… it’s just–” he paused. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted. “I see your apartment window every night, always wanting to show myself to you. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me, so I end up just sitting on a rooftop ledge staring at your silhouette against your curtained window. I don’t know what came over me tonight, I have no idea where I got the courage–I just know that I missed you so much. After I got wounded, I longed for your touch so I made my injury an excuse so I can see you.” 

“The fact that you had to make excuses just to see me means I’ve failed at being a best friend.” 

“Y/N, no. Don’t say that. I got busy too… and too afraid. All I had to do was knock on your window but I didn’t. The fear always got me.”

“The fear of what?” you asked through your tears.

“The fear of you not wanting to see me. The fear of you moving away again.”

“You really thought that I wouldn’t want to see you?”

“I-I don’t know, maybe? Or maybe the real fear is rejection. I’m scared of you rejecting me.”

“Peter, why would I reject you?”

He still wouldn’t look at you. You held his chin up and turned his face so you could look at him. “Tell me, why would I reject you?” you repeated your question.

“Because I don’t want us to go back to what we used to,” he finally looked at you. “I don’t want us to barely see each other again. I want to be able to see you every day if I can. I don’t want us to have a reason to ignore each other’s messages or calls again. Yes, we can be busy, but I want us to be busy together.  I don’t want us to fall apart again. I-I want us to be together… I want us to be something more.”

You didn’t know the words to reply, so instead you pulled him into a kiss. Peter’s eyes widened. He was already planning to kiss you, he didn’t expect you to beat him and do it first to him. The kiss was long and full of meaning—your lips may not be able to say the right words for an apology, but it did the job in the form of a kiss.

You both laughed the moment you pulled away but sadness and guilt washed over you again. “Sorry for shutting you out,” you apologized. He kissed you again. “Shh. Let’s just start over, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. Your eyes caught the digital clock on your desk. It was way past midnight and you still haven’t finished reviewing for your exam which was now just hours away. You immediately straightened up. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“My exams.”

Peter looked at your clock and the books on your table. He then noticed you getting anxious beside him. “Hey, look at me.”

You stayed staring at the clock before Peter stood up and blocked your view of the clock with his face. He knelt in front of where you sat on the bed. “It’s gonna be okay,” he smiled. “Let’s make it a mission, okay? Let’s do it like this… I’ll help you review and our goal is to finish it in an hour. And then after that, you can still get some sleep.”

“In an hour?”

“Yeah. I know we can do it.”

“ Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“No.”

“Then I’m serious. Come on,” he stood up, pulling you with him.

An hour, two coffees, and 37 pages later, you both found yourselves laying with your backs on the floor. “I told you we can do it,” he chuckled.

You turned your body so you could face him, he did the same so he could face you. “Thank you for helping me review, Peter,” you said quietly.

“You’re welcome. I didn’t do it for free though,” he replied jokingly.

“Oh, is that right?” you asked, smiling.

“Yup, I accept payments in the form of kisses.”

You chuckled before pulling him into another kiss. 

“I should’ve knocked on your window a long time ago,” Peter said after pulling away to catch his breath.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs