#peter's no damsel but he IS in distress | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 7 months

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idk if u listen to taylor swift but her song mastermind (which is kinda like maneuvering things around to get together with someone) would be so cool to read with TASM! Peter !! Maybe the reader realizes Peter is Spiderman after recognizing his voice and then tries her hardest to become Peter’s friend in school and kinda puts all the pieces together herself (+ the line ‘to assess the equation of you’ is so peter coded) also I feel like smart reader deserves more rep 😞 like no way she wouldn’t recognize his cocky ass voice

Again this is just like. Me spilling out my random thoughts 🤭 -🍁 (sorry for spam)

Hi lovely! I didn't stick to this very faithfully, but it did inspire an idea that I'd be remiss not to give you credit for! It's established relationship, where reader has figured out Peter is Spiderman (I agree she's not dumb and that needs to be regonized). Thank you <33

cw: a whiff of harassment (more of an attempt really, but if that will upset you please don't read)

tasm!Spiderman x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s hard to feel totally vulnerable walking around the city at night when you know you’re never really by yourself. Peter thinks he’s so stealthy, but he can’t always avoid casting shadows on the street ahead of you; you were bound to catch onto his well-intentioned stalking eventually. You’re not totally sure why he doesn’t just walk you home as himself (you’re coming from his apartment, it’s not like it would have been so difficult to ask), but your boyfriend seems to prefer stepping into his alter-ego when he thinks there’s any possibility for danger.

It turns out this time, he was right.

It’s not that you don’t see the man walking in the opposite direction of you (you’d have to be blind to miss the slow, performative up-down he gives you) or notice his mouth moving in your periphery, but you’re city-trained; you keep your eyes ahead, hoping he’ll see that you’ve got your earbuds in and leave you alone when he doesn’t get the attention he wants.

The man passes you, and you’re thinking you’re in the clear when there’s a forceful tug on your elbow. You very nearly pitch forward in your haste to get away from the unwelcome touch, but then the hand is wrenched away, and you turn to find the man stuck to a newspaper dispenser with one wrist covered in a familiar white filmy substance. A second later, and his other hand is webbed to the car behind him.

You pull out your earbuds just as Spiderman lands in front of you, the tilt of his head indicating that he’s looking you over for damage.

“Hey, what the fuck!” The man sputters. “I was just trying to pay the bitch a compliment—”

“Alright, thanks for that, pal.” Spiderman webs his mouth shut, and your harasser continues his muffled protests. “Maybe we just have different styles, but most of my compliments don’t start with unsolicited commentary on a stranger’s boobs.”

You curl your lip, and the man looks like a dog on its leash the way he’s tugging against his restraints. Your rescuer webs his feet in place, stopping their scraping against the sidewalk.

“You know,” he says, turning to you, and he’s not even trying to disguise his voice, “you should really have at least one earbud out if you’re walking by yourself at night. That’s just the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook.”

You grin at him. “I think the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook would really advocate more for playing damsel in distress to lure charming heroes your way. Walk me home, handsome?”

You start back on your way, and he follows you like it’s all he knows how to do. He’s quiet, and though you can’t see his expression behind the mask, you wonder if you’ve actually startled Spiderman into silence. If he expects you to be bashful and awestruck, he’s got another thing coming; you’re typically a bit shy around new people, but Peter isn’t new people.

“Yeah?” he asks after a second, and you wonder if you’d be able to detect the slight pitchiness to his voice if you didn’t know it so well. “So was that the plan all along? Get yourself attacked to get yourself rescued?”

“No.” You shrug, casting a disdainful glance back toward the man who’d grabbed you. “I don’t go out looking for trouble, but I know that if it finds me,” you say, looking up into the mask with a simpering smile, “I’ve got Brooklyn’s friendly neighborhood hero to protect me.”

You think he actually gulps. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, sweetheart, but you really should take some precautionary measures too.”

“Well, I suppose I could’ve asked my boyfriend to walk home with me,” you muse, “but he seemed like he was eager to have me gone. Better things to do, apparently.”

“What?” It’s a squawk, and then Peter clears his throat from behind the mask. “I’m sure if your boyfriend’s a sensible guy—which, I mean, anyone who managed to snag a girl like you must not be totally airheaded—I’m sure he didn’t mean to rush you off.”

“I don’t know.” You frown, looking off in front of you contemplatively. “He’s book smart for sure, but he can be kind of dense sometimes.” You can feel your companion’s hesitation like a prickle at your side, his uncertainty of how to go about this conversation with you, and it catches him offguard when you stop to look up at him with coy, wide eyes. “Do you think you’re a sensible guy?”

His voice is strangled. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, slowly moving into his space.

“I—I like to think so, sure.”

It’s all you can do not to giggle at how easily his cocky persona has come undone. You’re having too much fun to even feel bad about the torment you’re inflicting upon your boyfriend. “Maybe I should be with you, then,” you say.

He actually takes a step back. “But—but—uh, listen, you’re really pretty, but didn’t you say you had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, batting your eyelashes up at him, “what about him?”

You’ve got your hands on his shoulders, lips so close to his face you can feel the warmth of his breath through the mask, and you actually think he’s going to do it. He’s going to let you kiss him. You shove playfully at his chest, unable to contain your laughter anymore.

“Pete, c’mon,” you say, careful to keep your voice low. “You must think I’m an idiot. You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?”

There’s a few moments of wordless sputtering which you can’t really hold against him, and then Peter’s whisking you into an alley, pulling his mask off.

“Sorry for fucking with you,” you say while he’s still getting his bearings. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “It was just so easy to flirt back. You made it too much fun for me.”

“Jesus, babe.” Peter fists a hand in his hair, already fluffy from being handled so much. “When did you figure it out?”

“I mean, before today, but not very long ago,” you admit. “I knew something was up for a lot longer, but I didn’t put it together until you helped me with that mugger a few weeks ago.” You quirk a playful eyebrow. “You should at least try to distort your voice if you’re going to be Spiderman around people who know you in real life, you know.”

“Never had to with Flash,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

You turn a bit more sheepish, unsure if you should feel guiltier about keeping your realization from him. To be fair, though, he’d kept a whole crime-fighting secret identity from you. “Is there ever a right time?” you ask him with a little shrug. “I guess I eventually wanted you to tell me on your own. I get why you didn’t, but it’s not like you’re exactly choosing to trust me here.”

“I do,” Peter says immediately. He takes your shoulder in hand, like he needs to keep you steady to make sure you’re hearing him. “I do trust you, honey. It was never about trust.” He passes a hand over his face, shock melding into something more like dread. “It just, it could be dangerous for you, if you’re ever seen with me and it's obvious you know who I am, or something. I didn’t want to drag you into anything. There are…not everyone thinks of me as the friendly neighborhood hero you do.”

He gives you a little smile, and you return it, stroking his jaw in an attempt at comfort. “I know,” you say softly.

“We’re going to have to be careful.”

“I know. Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“If we’re being careful, you should probably put your mask back on.”

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candlecoo-sideb-art · 1 year

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HIS "ew" WHEN HE GETS CALLED ELIAS' SON I CANT

still absolutely adore your work i am so excited to see more from you!

Martin's "ew" comes from deep in his heart. He overheard Elias and Peter talking about their divorces and thinks Peter is some kind of damsel in distress.

And thank you!!!

#tma au #made for the lonely au #tma fanart #tma martin #tma art #martin blackwood #lonely!martin #magpod #the magnus archive fanart #the magnus archive #the magnus archives #fan art #digital art #my art #art #ask the candle #candle answers

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annabelle--cane · 22 days

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alright, so I’m really not much of an analyst and it’s been a While since I’ve actually listened to tma, let alone read into it well, but a post of yours that crossed my path got me wondering: in season five, with that whole “kill bill” arc following the Vaporizing of the not-them, my initial read on it was that a lot of it was vicarious for Martin, sort of exerting his grudges and thoughts using jon as the tool, so to speak (though I don’t remember many other people seeing it that way). do you think that could be related to the idea that Martin doesn’t see himself as someone who does/can do things or meaningfully act upon other people/the world… but Jon is?

absolutely massive yes. I have some longer posts about this exact thing around somewhere, but my read on his whole situation in that span of time is that he desperately wants to have control without feeling like he has control; he blames the end of the world on his "wrong" choice with elias and peter and has now sworn off on making important decisions ever again. except. well. he can't just switch off the part of his mind that's still scrabbling for power, so he tries to exert influence over jon, the person he views as the protagonist to his plus one, and have jon make the choices he can't carry out for himself. it's why he shuts down and point blank refuses to make decisions the few times jon turns to him and directly says "tell me what to do and I'll do it" (killing jude perry, the kids on night street). martin wants the illusion of no free choice. this is also why I think it awakened something in him when annabelle tied him up like a damsel in distress but that's neither here nor there.

#tma #answered #anons

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happyely2 · 7 months

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Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: It will vary from story to story and I will point it out at the time (green-for-all; orange-for a mature audience; red-for adults, minors are asked to skip this story).

General Summary: Ten Different Alternative Universes In which you will experience an extraordinary adventure with Ace (plots and more details are written under the respective title). Soon they will be published one by one, for now I leave the plots in general.

General Inspired: I will write from time to time the possible inspirations that have been taken as references to write.

Let’s Meet Agian In The Next Life

[📿Exorcism!AU📿] - The spirit of the red fire

You’ve been called in to exorcise a demon that’s causing a lot of trouble for the community in a quiet country village, so you don’t expect that curse to give you such a hard time.

[📚School!AU📚] - Breaktime at school

Ace is the most popular guy in high school, he’s a senior, and he’s going to college soon, so you don’t expect him to know who you are, a little third-year-old girl who’s doing very well in school. You don’t know how wrong you are.

[👑Royalty!AU👑] - Midnight Ball

You didn’t object when the mystery knight gave you his hand to go down the garden stairs, it was your last night of freedom before you had to marry someone you hardly knew. A moonlight dance before you become the wife of the future king of the kingdom with a mysterious knight you would love in silence for years to come.

[✨PeterPan!AU✨] - Lost Girl in Neverland

Second star right and then straight until morning! But wait for the lost children are not so children but they are teenagers!? Fairies and mermaids are friendly? Indians are a rowdy group of adults who want to dance all night and pirates are not real pirates but admirals of the navy? What kind of island are you in, and since Peter Pan has freckles and black hair and calls himself Ace?

[🔮Magic!AU🔮] - Rebel

Ace never thought he’d have to ask you, a witch, for help to save his family. But he is a warrior who is willing to do anything to save the people he loves, even to come to terms with a witch like you.

[🐺Omegaverse!AU🐺] - Damn to that beta

The biggest cliché in the world? You made it happen. You always considered yourself a beta with little sex craving and always squabbling with her beta neighbor. So you don’t expect that the day you go for the analysis something snaps in you and that you’re both soul mates. In short! You can’t be the soul mate of your neighbor Beta (actually Alpha) Ace! And you can’t be his Omega.

[🏹Indian!AU🏹] - The arrow of fate

Travel to the new world! Gold, riches, adventures and new lands to explore! That’s what they promised, but now Ace was wondering how he could explain that those were really fake things and that the only thing that drew gold were the hair of a certain Indian who had snatched his heart?

[⚔️Moschettieres!AU⚔️] - Damsel in distress

"And you call that a lunge?" You shouted behind the back of the man who was fighting to protect you.

"Then fight you mademoiselles!" The Musketeer answered you by stretching out the enemy that was attacking you and taking you for life to take away. What was all that effrontery towards the poor Musketeer Ace who was fighting to save you at the behest of his majesty!

"With great pleasure!" You answered by beating your fists on his shoulder. There were no bridesmaids anymore.

[🚓Police!AU🚓] - Cat Burglar

Ace had just joined the police force when he was given a very important case by Commissioner Smoker. Catch a famous thief who always announces her shots before getting them. I mean, it seems easy, but nobody on the police force has ever done it. And the policeman Ace will have to invent one more than the devil to succeed in catching tha

[💰Far West!AU💰] - The Naked Gun

There is only one law in the bar: no fighting is allowed and as a bartender you are categorical, your rifle is ready to fire a warning shot at anyone who dares even think of trying. You just haven’t met the outlaw Portuguese D. Ace and his wacky gang of bandits.

#one piece #one piece x reader #ace x oc #ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portugas d ace #one piece ace #portgas ace smut #ace smut #ace op #ace of spades #ace one piece #soft smut #smut #alternate universe #crossover #fanfic #Happy_Ely🪷

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littleether21 · 7 months

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Miguel O'Hara Little Headcanons! (COMPLETELY SFW)

Very anxious little boy. He's very self conscious about how he looks when he's regressed. He's over 6' tall, with lots of muscle. He will need like a LOT of reassurance from his CG that he's an itty bitty boy.

Most of the time his regression is involuntary. He just gets so stressed during his work that he slips by accident. He usually regresses a little older, probably between 5-8. If his stress is that bad he can go much younger.

Tends to throw fits and tantrums a lot. This usually ends with his room being a mess, with him crying in the middle of it.

Once he's calmed down enough Lyla plays some calming music for him and walks him through the cleanup process.

Lyla is the main one who keeps an eye on him while regressed, because she can tell when he's close to slipping. She and Jess are in constant communication and so she tells Jess to take the reins for a while until Miguel is big again.

Peter B. found out about Miguel's regression by accident but saw how upset Miguel was and so he stayed and helped him calm down with the same sort of tactics he uses with Mayday.

Miguel prefers not to have a CG half the time but the other half of the time he's following Peter around like a puppy.

Miguel has a trunk of his little gear in his bedroom with a lock on it that only he can get into. He's terrified of other people finding out about it.

In the trunk are mostly some comfort items; like a ridiculously large hoodie with cat ears on the hood, some of his favorite childhood books, and several teethers. Lyla had to order ones that are super tough because Miguel and his fangs went through the baby ones really fast.

His favorite thing to do as a little is go to the playground or park. But usually he can't because he gets self conscious if other people are there, so he usually just has Lyla clear out one of the many gyms in HQ and he'll spend hours in there just running around and burning off energy.

Lyla has Peter bring food and drinks up if Miguel forgets to. Miguel is forbidden from having sugary drinks while little because he didn't sleep for 24 hours the last time he had any. Apple/orange juice is okay though.

He has a little bin of action figures in his trunk as well and he likes playing with those and saving the world. Lyla likes to get involved and will happily play the part of a damsel in distress for the hero to save.

Usually goes through a bedtime routine while he's little, and when he wakes up in the morning he gets himself back to being big.

He's such a sweet boy :(

#atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse agere #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #regressor miguel ohara #age regression #sfw agere #safe agere #spiderverse agere sfw #safe age regression

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ohtobemare · 1 year

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Congrats on 100 followers !!! So excited for you!

Could I get “I think I might be in some kind of love with you.” with Tom? We all know I’m an Ice gal

💜💜💜

Who doesn't love Ice? Here's your fluffy Kazanksy, he's just too much fun to write. Enjoy and thanks so much for your follow and your ask, babe!

Wingman

“Bradley! Bradley, come on—you like peanut butter and jelly, remember?”

The edge of the divided alphabet plate is mere inches from nose diving off the table, threatening a mess of sticky Peter Pan and strawberry jelly on what appears to be bright-and-shiny, freshly waxed linoleum.

Locked in a staring contest with the curlicue of a five-year-old your best friend Nick Bradshaw has entrusted you with, your heart is hammering harder than you ever remember in your short lifespan.

Feet frozen in place, your hand is extended as if somehow you’ve managed to become some kind of Jedi. Attempting to force-control Bradley Bradshaw into cooperation failed, the burp of skin on plastic is nearly deafening as his fat little finger skips across the table, flicking at the separated plate you’d set in front of him moments ago.

“B!” The high pitch of your voice matches the heart jumping behind your ribs–never in your adult life would you have dreamed to ever be so worried about a sandwich, “please—eat your lunch, ok? Your daddy says you like PB and J,”

Time seems to stand still. Exhausted, blood pumping hard through your ears, you feel like you’ve wrestled a bull the entire afternoon. Or maybe a Tasmanian devil. Bradley has been nothing but a high-strung ball of energy since you sent Nick and Carole off for their afternoon, insisting that things would be fine.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve heeded Carole’s warning of letting Bradley play outside a few hours before lunch. “He gets so cooped up and off the rails if you take him out and let him burn through some of that after-nap energy,” the gall of the woman to actually laugh, “He’s super into Indiana Jones, and you’ll be a great sub in my absence as the damsel in distress.”

But Bradley hadn’t wanted to play outside today. He’d wanted to play dinosaurs in his room with his little green army men, and together you’d both had a blast decimating Sarge and his unit with Tom the T-Rex. Blithely unaware of the gorgeous day outside and its 90 degree sunshine, A/C had been an appreciated alternative. At the time.

But now? You were going to either kill Nick’s kid, or die of exhaustion—whichever came first.

Bradley had started acting up about an hour ago, when he refused to clean up the toys in his room. An all-out hissy fit had transpired as Tom the T-Rex had been violently thrown out the bedroom door, hitting the wall with a thunk.

Feeling sorry for Tom, and staring with popped brows of surprise as Bradley screamed in his bedroom, very quickly your ovaries had shrank into near non-existence at the idea of someday willing choosing this for yourself.

“Pizza!” He shrieks, arms flapping in tantrum like some kind of pterodactyl, which ironically matches the dinosaur on the t-shirt underneath his overalls, “I want pizza!” His little high-pitched boy voice is ringing off the walls of the military housing unit as his bottom lip begins to quiver.

Crocodile tears well up in his soft brown eyes, angry color flaring on his chubby cheeks as he gives the plate one final shove, glaring at it like it has committed a grave offense.

Flinching as the plastic rattles to the linoleum, you puff out a dramatic sigh and scrub your face with your be-jeweled fingers, the cool rings doing little to tame the heat fanning across the bridge of your nose. Your heart has stopped throbbing in worry over the thoroughly dead sandwich, pulse returning to some kind of normal between your ears.

Gnawing at your bottom lip in defeat, you eyeball the splattered peanut butter and jelly and brea. It’s flattened and thoroughly stuck to the floor as Bradley leans over the side of his booster to look at his handiwork. Blinking at it, he looks back to you without even missing a beat, before grabbing the Flintstone cup of milk and taking a long swig.

“Pizza,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, crossing to the head of the table. “You win, kiddo. Pizza it is.” You’ve never felt more defeat in your life, which is really saying something, because the taste of second place is something you’re all too familiar with being friends with Nick Bradshaw and his motley crew of stick jockey aviators.

Grabbing your purse, you retrieve your wallet and march to the phone mounted on the wall. Spinning the numbers, you order a pizza for yourself and the Bradshaw demon now absolutely adorably singing a song he must’ve picked up from his father, and hung up after the deadbeat clerk monotoned a goodbye.

Plunking down in a chair, your elbows hit the table and cradle your head as you sigh out a breath from the base of your gut. A headache is starting to bloom behind your eyes, and sweat is beading down the length of your spine, drawing your t-shirt and jeans to your skin in the most unpleasant way possible.

Toes curling against the linoleum in an effort to release tension, Bradley begins singing his ABCs in the cutest way possible.

You jump when the phone releases a shrill shriek across the kitchen. For a minute your mind jogs, trying to remember if Carole had asked you to take any calls.

Nick had told you to go ahead and use the phone for anything you may need—slipping out of the chair, you slide across the floor in your socks and pluck it off the receiver, cradling it between your clavicle and ear.

“Bradshaw house,” you sing into the line. Bradley is pushing himself out from the table, scrambling out of the booster to race up the stairs, shrieking for his stuffed animal dog that you have since learned is named Bongo. Covering the receiver, you call for Bradley to please come back downstairs before returning to the call, “How can I help?”

“Sounds like you’re having fun, sweetheart.”

Heart slamming to an all-stop in your chest, you inhale a sharp breath. A surprised squeaks managed past your strangled vocal chords, and heat jumping into your blood is immediate.

Replaying his words through your mind, you imagine him leaning through the doorway of the barracks, phone in hand, dragging the cord along as he talks to you.

Tom Kazanksy has always been a pacer when it comes to talking on the phone. It’s something you learned from Nick himself, who has told you numerous times that Iceman can’t keep it together when he’s on a call. Especially with you.

Goose was practically ass-over-tea kettle about this, Ice glaring at him behind his aviators as you’d given him a goofy grin, picturing the idea as nothing short of hilarious.

The man as cold as ice, tethered by a phone cord every time he picked up the receiver. It was laughable. Actually hilarious. Ice was many things—poised, cool, calculative in ways that were nearly frightening. He seemed far too collected to be the kind that walks when he’s on the phone—that’s your thing.

Fidgeting is a quirk of yours that simultaneously amuses and drives Ice up the wall, which seems counterproductive.

But like many things about Iceman Kazansky, there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense.

Keeping you on your toes is just one of the many things that makes your relationship with Kazansky interesting. He’s the ying to your yang, the cool to your hot. You’re wound tighter than a frickin’ Rolex, and Tom is as smooth as butter in every way that counts.

He’s excelling in his career, making the right decisions, drawing the right attention—and you’re stalled out working at the local garage, tinkering on whatever junk manages to hit the pavement.

Quiet and reserved, Ice is the epitome of charm and elegance. You’re basically the wild card in life’s chaotic game of Uno, forever handing your boyfriend a draw 25 of every crazy thing your life may hand him.

Honestly, how the two of you make it work is unbelievable—you’ve been dating for eight months. You were sure any day Ice would wake up from the hellish nightmare that is your crazy life and leave you, but he'd only seemed locked in for good.

Fairly certain that meeting your parents in NOLA would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, you were dead surprised when Ice had told you he actually loved your family. Your father had done nothing but interrogate the man like a dog with a bone about his career, his plans—all the kills his fancy rank boasted.

And mama? Oh, boy. She’d fussed over him to no end, insisting his skinny ass needed plumped up before your return at Christmas.

“What are they feeding him in California, sweetie? Look at that waist! I could snap him in two. Make sure you feed ‘im good—the way to a man’s heart is through his gut, after all.”

Your mother didn’t understand that you didn’t live together, weren’t cooking for Ice, and could take no responsibility for his eating habits. She’d just pooh-pooh’d your entire protest away, promising to send you both home with grocery money and a few recipes for your box.

You’d stuck them to the fridge with a magnet, Ice just chuckling at your mumble that your parents were the most embarrassing life-givers on the entire planet.

Arms snaked around your wrist, chin on your shoulder, he’d rocked you back and forth on his feet while smiling at the recipes now stuck on the front of your Frigidaire.

“I like your parents, my love. They’re….sweet?” The word was so foreign from him, it had made you snort.

“Overbearing and nosy, but thanks for playing,” you’d shook your head and lazily hung your hands from his thick forearms crossing over your chest, “I can’t wait to meet your folks, Ice. Your mom seems so amazing.”

“You’re talking to my mom?”

Laughing, “Of course I am! You gave me their number, silly.”

“I gave you my parents’ number for when I’m there, princess. I didn’t expect you to cultivate a relationship with Admiral Kazanksy’s wife.” Pressing a heavy kiss to your jaw, the blonde stubble on his cheek was divine as it brushed against the apple of yours.

Giggling in his embrace, your nose scrunches up as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Careful there, Tommy. Mrs. Admiral Kazansky kinda has a nice ring to it.”

His eyes had never sparkled so richly as they had that day in your kitchen, catching the insinuation you’d thrown in your little universe. Ice is everything you are not in the way that he is as unreadable as a blank page, whereas you’re easy reading, like phonebook. It goes with his graceful stoicism, his quiet demeanor.

Which is maybe why the two of you work. He balances you out, reigns you in when necessary but loves your unbridled fire. You add color to the otherwise black-and-white pages of Tom Kazanksy’s mission dossier of life, and while you haven’t exactly figured out if that’s a plus or not—Goose, Mav, Slider and everyone else that knows him assures you that you’re the best thing that’s ever stumbled, literally, into Kazanksy’s universe.

You smile at the muffle of voices hanging at the back of the call. Tom is obviously not alone, which amuses you to no end.

“Oh yeah, y’know how it goes, Kazansky—couldn’t be better. Goose’s kid is just the best child a babysitter could ever ask for.” The drama is not lost in your voice.

Tom barks out a laugh, and you imagine he’s shaking his head at you. “I can imagine. Bradley is a little shit when he wants to be.” He says something to someone beyond the call before returning to the phone, “So, about tomorrow. I wanted to ask you—”

Curling the phone cord around your index finger, you check over your shoulder as a shriek erupts from the hallway. Whipping about, Bradley shoots down the stairs, suddenly naked from the waist down and missing the overalls his mother had dressed him in that morning.

Eyes popping wide, he is screaming with a Superman action figure and his father’s dog tags hanging from his neck, face twisted in a horror that you’ve only ever seen portrayed on television.

Somehow, Bradley’s hair and shirt is wet. Which can only mean—

“Oh my gosh! Bradley! Bradley, come back—” dropping the phone and lunging for the toddler, you half remember your boyfriend is on the other end of the call, and right as Bradley races into the kitchen you grab the receiver. Scrambling to right the phone back to your ear, “Ice, I really have–” but he’s laughing. At you.

“This isn’t funny, Tom!”

“It’s fucking hilarious, baby,” his voice is that smooth rasp that makes you shiver as he clucks a chuckle into the phone, “but hold tight. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes,” he’s calling for someone to tell him the time before he returns. “Think you can keep the gosling alive long enough for me to get there?”

Your eyes are shooting daggers at the wall as you sneer at nothing. “I hate you sometimes,”

Hissing out a noise that sounds like it would be paired with a wince, his mocking, “Ouch, princess,” doesn’t match the lilt in the back of his words. “Don’t burn down the house, I’ll be right there. Hang tight, grease monkey.” He’s been calling you grease monkey since knowing you, and it’s become more of a pet name than anything.

Unraveling, grateful help is imminent, you’re too stubborn to tell him that. Ice is good at everything, and something about watching Goose’s offspring niggles the thought that you want to be better at this than him in the back of your head. Biting the inside of your cheek, you hum suspiciously over the phone.

“Just get over here, Kazansky.” Dropping the phone to the receiver, you turn to rush into the living space in search of Bradley.

You swear to God you can hear him laughing behind the door fifteen minutes later when he knocks, letting himself into the kitchen from the screen door.

Sunglasses on, dressed informally in a t-shirt and tight Wranglers, he’s got a baseball glove under his arm that he drops to the table when Bradley races to the front door, arms splayed wide upon sight.

“Iceman!” Bradley launches himself at Ice’s legs, wrapping chunky little arms around the man’s thighs, “I didn’t know you were coming!”

He’s bouncing as Ice bends to lift him under his arms to his hip, messing the kid’s hair with his fingers.

“You gonna play ball with me, Ice?”

Ice’s smile is genuine as the kid pops off his callsign, no sweat. “You know it, kiddo. Gotta get my favorite shortstop ready for the Phillies, right?”

Bradley’s face couldn’t be any brighter as you lean against the threshold of the living room, arms crossed over your chest as you watch Ice interact with Goose’s son.

“How have you been, Bradley?”

“Gooooood,” the boy giggles and draws out the double-o of the word like children do, breaking off into another giggle as Ice wiggles his fingers into his soft stomach, “can we go play?”

“Yeah, bud. Go grab your mit and we’ll toss a few,” setting Bradley to his feet, he sends the boy off with a light swat to his rear, Bradley beelining past you to whip up the stairs. He's chanting Ice’s name with childlike joy nearly bubbling out of him.

Ice considers the state of the sandwich you still haven’t cleaned up off the floor before looking to you with a raised brow. The corner of his mouth ticks up into a light smirk as he slips the aviators off, hanging them from the collar of his t-shirt as his eyes move about the living space, easily.

You can see he’s calculating, and something shoots down your spine to ricochet off your uterus.

Good god he’s handsome. Sexy as all get out with close-cropped blonde hair, eyes bright enough to melt steel. He can level you with nothing but a smile, make you forget your name the way he kisses you. You might as well be dead when he says your name.

Thinking through all the times he's called you his, wondering if you’ll ever get tired of it, heat in your blood blossoms to your face. You suddenly warmer than you thought possible in the A/C of Goose’s house.

Crossing the kitchen in a few long strides, he reaches for you. Hand sliding home at your hip as you smile at him, he bridges the daylight hanging between you and shuffles your hips flush with his. Smiling at you crookedly, his eyes track yours. Reaching for a curl that’s fallen from your clip, he tucks it behind your ear.

“Help has arrived, princess,” he teases you, low. “Holding up okay?” His voice is quiet, smoky. Dangerous.

Every one of his words hits you right in that little spot between your legs, which has not stopped aching since you laid eyes on this man eight months ago.

“Thanks for coming over,” you coo, lips parting into a little smile. “I’m alright, just tired. Should’ve known I’d need my wingman–you should’ve been here for lunch,” nodding past his shoulder to the mess still living beside Bradley’s booster, your bottom lip rolls inward sheepishly. “Peter Pan and Smuckers crashed and burned.” Your nose scrunches up, teasingly. “I needed reinforcements.”

He snorts a little, brow lifted knowingly. “So I gathered.”

“You’re such a jerk,” you try not to chuckle, but that look he’s giving you makes it impossible.

He shrugs, flippantly. “Yeah, but you like that kind of thing,“ fingers skipping down the full curve of your cheek, they anchor at your chin and tip you head back just so. “I’m here now, love.”

Somehow your eyes just know to drop to half mast as your heart kicks up a few beats against your ribs. His head angles in that kissable way, and before you can even remember to breathe, his mouth brushes against yours tentatively, seeking out a kiss. Grabbing the front of his shirt, fingers fisting into the material, you edge him a little closer until he seals the deal, kissing you long and hard and slow.

His other thick hand is moving to rest at the curve of your neck and shoulder, thumb delicately brushing against the column of your throat as he moans a little into your mouth. Gasping a little, you suck at his bottom lip, tongue carefully slipping between his teeth to lathe a little against his own. Suddenly the room is spinning as he’s bracing an arm against the threshold of the kitchen, backing you against the sheetrock as his hand moves to cup the curve of your cheek.

“Ice,” you whine between his mouth moving against yours. Every nerve is on fire, and you can suddenly taste and feel nothing but his heat as it crashes against your chest. “I—”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl into the flesh of your hip, harder if possible, and he presses his weight forward with his hips, against yours, pinning you against the sheetrock even farther. “It’s okay,” he enunciates with rough exhale, “Bradley is fine—”

Knees basically gelatin and as if on cue, you hear Bradley’s little feet upstairs. He’s talking to Tom the T-rex, looking for his glove before he cries for you to come upstairs. It’s painful, brushing Tom’s hand away from where it’s tracing the soft skin beneath your navel under your shirt, but you have to.

Groaning in irritation before breaking your kiss with Tom, your gaze moves to the ceiling. Tom’s eyes do as well, and he sighs a little in defeat before putting his hands up, stepping back to allow you to slide away, towards the stairs.

“I’m coming, Bradley,” you call up the stairs, your voice not nearly as strong as you’d like it to be. “I’m sorry, baby, I—” His smile is slow as he nods in understanding, and he smooths his hand over his mouth, you not missing the flush on his face.

You rake your hair back as you’re about to take the stairs two at a time, but you stop when Ice’s big hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. Looking to his hand briefly, your eyes track up to find him, your face painted with the silent question of “What’s wrong?” that you don’t even need to ask.

“You know I love you, right?”

Heart skyrocketing into the back of your throat before it melts back between your ribs, the corner of your mouth lifts in a soft smile as you shrug a shoulder. Winking at him, you step forward onto the stairs, hand falling from his grasp as Ice moves to track you up the stairs. Over your shoulder, you smile at him and nod—you absolutely know you’re in love with Tom Kazanksy, it isn’t even a question.

“And I think I might be in some kind of love with you too, Kazansky. Maybe just a little.” Your fingers pinch to indicate a little amount, nose scrunched up in that way you always do that makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. You round the corner of the open staircase, but backtrack a few steps to peek around the corner.

“But in case you forget, Iceman—I love you too.”

#100 followers #100 followers celebration #blurb requests #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #controlled chaos squad #call sign meerkat #tom iceman kazansky #iceman top gun #answered asks #tom iceman kazanksy x reader #tom kazanksy x reader #iceman x reader #iceman x you

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heckcareoxytwit · 1 year

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In this AU, the Spider-Man characters are the Fairy Tale characters. Princess Petra as Spintress is the gender-flipped version of Peter Parker while Merry James Watson the bard is the gender-flipped version of Mary Jane Watson. Also, in the Fairy Tale AU, the male musician is the dude in distress instead of the usual tiresome princess damsel in distress cliche. Kraven the Huntsman is the Fairy Tale AU version of Kraven the Hunter. Bishop Octopus is the AU version of Doctor Octopus except that he's not a villain yet. Vulture is a literal vulture but big and green. Norma the Fairy Gob-Mother is an unpredictable gender-flipped version of Norman Osborn.

Here, Merry James Watson is kidnapped by Kraven the Huntsman so that he could lure Spinstress into his hideout. Spintress races to the hideout to fight Kraven and save her boyfriend. While fighting Kraven, Norma the Fairy Gob-Mother appears in the battle to help Petra but rather for sinister purpose. After beating Kraven, Petra reunites with James only for Norma to appear and disrupt the couple. Both Petra and James smash the special orb before Norma could get her hands on it.

Edge of Spider-Verse v3 #2, 2023

#wednesday spoilers #Spinstress #Princess Petra #Petra #Kraven the Huntsman #Bishop Octopus #Merry James Watson #Norma the Fairy Gob Mother #edge of spider verse #marvel

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mysterious-ocarina · 1 year

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Let It Out

Scott Summers x reader

Main Masterlist Requests

(2.3k words)

“God, what the hell is wrong with you?” you yelled. You just came back from a mission with the X-Men. The mission was successful but that didn’t stop you and Scott from arguing about anything the other one did. “Was it really necessary to cover me in dirt and dust?”

“Well maybe if you were paying attention, that wouldn’t have happened,” Scott egotistically replied.

During the mission, a piece of rubble was about to fall on you, but Scott used his lasers to break it and stop it from hitting you, incinerating the rubble on top of your head. This resulted in you getting covered in the dirty debris.

Admittedly, this argument was petty and stupid. He saved you, you know it, but you were never one to miss the chance to argue.

“I was paying attention,” you indignantly argued.

Scott rolled his eyes, “Sure you did. It’s okay, I don’t mind saving a damsel in distress.”

Angered, you got into Scott’s face, “Let’s go outside and we’ll see who’s a damsel.”

“That’s enough, you two. I will not have a fist fight among my students,” the Professor got between you. “Maybe you guys should put whatever it is you two have going behind you and get along.”

“It’s impossible to get along with an egotistical jerk who thinks he’s better than you,” you huffed. “Seriously, you don’t have to tell me everytime I do something wrong. I already agonize over it enough myself.”

You walked off, done with the conversation. Anytime you did anything wrong on missions, Scott was always the first to criticize you on it. It probably wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you weren’t already insecure about your place in the X-Men. You were the newest member of the team and you had less experience than everyone else did with your mutation.

About a year ago, you were walking home from a friend's house. A couple of guys from your school had cornered you. Before they could do whatever they had planned for you, you had pushed them away with your hands and accidentally launched them into the building behind them.

Your mutation allows you to manipulate vibrations. The Professor found you after your family had disowned you and brought you to the mansion. Since, he’s helped you control your mutation and helped you become stronger.

“You know, she’s never going to be your friend if you do that all the time,” Jean softly offered advice.

“I don’t want to be her friend,” Scott snapped at her.

“Right because you want to be more,” Peter smirked.

“I don’t want to be her anything. Same as you guys, I just don’t want her to get hurt,” Scott sighed, annoyed.

“You’re cute, when you’re in denial. I’m a mind reader, you can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me,” Jean pat his shoulder before leaving too.

Everyone except for you seemed to be privy to the way he felt about you, much to Scott’s chagrin. Eventually he made his way to his room to sulk for the rest of the night.

You on the other hand, made your way to the Danger Room to get some training in. The only way for your brain to shut up about all your insecurities was to train them away. After a few hours of training alone you felt better. All of your frustrations toward Scott washed away.

You were still in your training outfit, but didn’t care as you made your way to the kitchen for a snack before you showered. The sports bra and shorts you were wearing were more revealing than you would have liked to be seen in so you wanted to get your food and leave as quickly as possible.

You grabbed a packet of popcorn off the shelf and put it in the microwave. You turned around and was surprised to see Scott walking into the kitchen too. He was looking down so he most likely didn’t notice you.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, so Scott would look at you. “You almost bumped into me.”

“Shit, you scared the fuck out of me,” he jumped. He stared at you and you wished more than anything that you could see his eyes to know what he was staring at. You crossed your arms over yourself feeling insecure under his scrutinizing gaze.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, to break the silence.

Scott seemed to snap out of his thoughts and smirked at you, “Taking in the view.”

The microwave beeped behind you, thankfully. You turned around to get your popcorn and to hide the blush on your face. Scott Summers did not just make you blush.

“Pervert,” you muttered. You poured your popcorn into a bowl before turning around again. Scott was staring at the floor now, seemingly deep in thought. Of what, you did not care.

You tried to walk away but Scott grabbed your arm, preventing your escape.

“What the hell do you want, Summers?” you asked aggressively. Scott has never touched you before outside of training or mission, so you were wary of him now.

Frustrated, Scott ran his hand through his hair. You tried not to let your eyes linger on the motion.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch? I was g-going to,” Scott stuttered before he snapped his mouth shut.

Scott wanted to apologize to you. He realized that you might think his criticism was always said to put you down. That you might not know that he doesn’t want to see you get hurt and that he wouldn’t be able to handle the day you stop arguing with him.

“Going to, what?” you asked.

“Doesn’t matter. Nevermind.” Scott sighed, letting you go.

He’s acting weird, weirder than usual with you, and you didn’t know what to do. Concerned, you placed your hand on Scott’s arm, asking, “Are you alright?”

Scott harshly shook your arm off, tersely replying “I’m fine.”

“Well sorry for asking then,” you replied, a little offended. This whole conversation was confusing you, making you feel like you’re suffocating.

You flee from the kitchen, going back to your room for the night. Scott remains in the kitchen, cursing himself for his lack of social prowess and expressing his feelings.

For the next few days, Scott avoids you like the plague. When you join everyone on the couches, he’s the first to get up and leave. He sits as far away from you as he can during dinner. He’s even stopped criticizing you during training.

It was an odd feeling. The lack of Scott’s annoying voice should have offered you peace. It should have made you feel better that someone wasn’t analyzing your fighting technique, waiting to tell you everything wrong with it. The entire week, you waited for Scott to pay attention to anything you did, but his attention never came. It made you feel unsettled.

There was a knock at your door, Jean yelling, “Mission in 20.”

You put on your mission clothes and made your way to the jet. Taking your seat and buckling your seatbelt, you waited for the debriefing.

“It’s a fire and rescue. 12 story office building. . .” the professor rattled on. It was a simple mission. People trapped in a building that the X-Men were supposed to help rescue.

You were finishing your search of one of the floors of the building, when you heard Jean’s voice in your head, “Building is clear of civilians, everyone get out as fast as you can.”

You would have listened to her if you could, but there was concrete blocking your only exit. You tried to use your mutation to break it but you were weak and tired. The ash burned as it coated your throat and lungs, making you cough wildly.

You could feel the panic seep its way into your brain but you tried to keep a level head. Logically, at least one person from your team had to notice you didn’t make it out. You tried and failed one last time to push away the concrete blocking your way.

“Professor! Jean!” you screamed as loud as you could, hoping someone heard you, telepathically or not.

With your lungs gasping for clean air, you sunk to the floor. Before you, there was a flash of red before Scott’s face showed up in your vision.

“Y/N,” he screamed for you, the sound ripped from his throat. He looked uninjured which brought you a bit of comfort as he made his way over to you.

Before either of you could do anything, a support beam collapsed between the two of you, separating you.

You felt like you were suffocating, not enough clean air making its way to your brain. Your whole body was vibrating, “Scott, I don’t feel right.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to get you out of here,” he replied, panting.

Neither of you commented that this was the first time you ever called him Scott instead of Summers and the first time he gave you such an endearing nickname.

You felt like you may explode so you did the only thing you could think to do. Scream.

“Scott!” you screamed. You let your voice out, probably damaging your vocal cords with how visceral and loud you were screaming. Next thing you know, everything goes black.

Scott’s face was dirty, filled with scratches and scrapes. But he didn’t care to wash up or do anything until he knew you were okay. He explained to the professor what happened and thanked Jean for saving the both of them.

Sitting on the floor outside the clinic, this past week washed over Scott. How fucking stupid he was to ignore you all week. He wished more than anything that he just told you how he felt in the kitchen and wished he wasn’t so hard on you all the time.

The door next to him opened and closed, making Scott stand up. Hank stood in front of him, “She’s awake and okay. A little bruised and weak but that’s it. You can see her.”

“Thanks,” Scott muttered walking into the room.

You sat in a hospital bed, wincing anytime you moved. Hank filled you in on what happened. Scott had helped Jean find you and get you out of the building. It turns out your voice was a secret weapon you didn’t know you had. Manipulating vibrations with your hands was one thing, but your voice was an entirely other thing.

The door opened, stirring you from your deprecating thoughts, Scott standing in the doorway. His face is covered in scratches that he didn’t have the last time you saw him. Your bad thoughts come back in an instant, bringing silent tears to your eyes.

Scott sits on the edge of the bed next to you. Shyly he gives you a small, “Hi.”

“Did I do that?” you ask, your voice scratchy from overuse. You bring your hands to his face but he softly takes your hand in his bringing it to his chest.

“It’s okay,” he replies instead of answering you.

Your chin wobbles as the tears in your eyes start to fall. You wipe them away with your free hand, before staring at the wall behind Scott, “Why are you here?”

“I had to make sure you were okay,” Scott replies.

“Why would you care if I’m okay? You’re probably here to tell me how stupid I am for getting trapped. Or yell at me for accidentally hurting you. You never fail to tell me what I do wrong every mission,” you let your thoughts slip past your mouth.

There was a small voice in your head that wanted Scott to be telling the truth, that he cared for you. But there was another insecure voice, asking you why would he care about you?

“God, I’m so stupid. Let me explain,” Scott begged. He continued after your silence. “I never wanted you to feel weak. The only reason I harp on you so much during training and missions is because I never want to see you get hurt. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, especially in a fight, but you mean so much to me that I always want to know if you’re safe.”

“But you’re always arguing with me,” you whispered. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Well, you are pretty hot when you get all angry at me,” Scott smirked.

You giggled and went to softly slap Scott but he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“If you let me, I promise I will make up every single comment and argument. I’ll even let you practice your new-found powers on me,” Scott smiled at you.

His face was pleading for you to agree and how could you tell him no.

“I’ll forgive you. On one condition,” you teased. He excitedly nodded his head. “You have to say, ‘Y/n is the best X-Women to ever exist and could beat my ass if they wanted to.’”

Right away, Scott recited, “Y/n is the best X-Women to ever exist and could beat my ass if they wanted to. They also really really want to kiss Scott Summers because he is very handsome.”

You laughed again, “Who said you were handsome?” But who are you kidding, he was to die for.

“So you’re not denying that you want to kiss me,” he smirked again. God, this man was going to drive you crazy.

Instead of answering, you placed a sweet kiss on his lips. Before it could get too heated, you pulled away to speak. “You are very handsome, Scott Summers.”

He did a little triumphant fist bump in the air, smiling at you. And for a moment, you weren’t worried about the X-Men, or your new powers, or anything outside of you and Scott. You felt at peace.

#the x men #fluff #x men imagine #scott summers #scott summers x reader #one shot #female reader #fanfiction

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cauliflowertree · 2 years

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sirius black x reader

"we have a problem." - "no, YOU have a problem. i have an idiot who keeps getting into one."

the great escape—sirius black.

summary: sirius needs your assistance to get him out of trouble.

word count: 0.5k

fanfic no. 008

“wait til minnie catches us, we’re done for,” sulked peter, trailing behind the rest of the marauders barging into the gryffindor common room.

each one of them was panting and hunched over their knees, sirius and james with large smiles on their faces. it was the type of smile that indicated they’d just landed themselves in a heap of trouble—if they were caught, that is.

sirius stretched himself out and walked over to the common room door to peek his head out of the side of the painting. he startled, slamming the portrait shut and running back to his friends with a flash of concern across his face.

“is she there?” james asked, holding his left side where a stitch was blossoming.

sirius turned his attention to you. “darling,” he said sickly sweet.

you had been watching the event transpire over the spine of your book, suppressing small smirks from stretching over your lips.

“we have a problem,” sirius continued, sitting beside you and extending an arm around your shoulders.

you scoffed, shutting your book without noting the page you left off at. “no, you have a problem. i have an idiot who keeps getting into one.”

“so you’ll do nothing?” sirius failed to conceal his astonishment.

“you’re not a damsel in distress, sirius. don’t act as if you can’t talk yourself out of anything.”

it wasn’t two minutes before you heard professor mcgonagall’s voice down the corridor, heading up the stairs. sirius pleaded with you, and his friends followed suit like helpless sheep. even remus looked as if he was asking for help in his soft expression.

“oh, fine!” you stood up from the sofa and huffed at the lot of them. "you owe me,” you narrowed your eyes at sirius.

"anything you want, darling," he said with a confident smirk, though his eyes flickering towards the common room door gave his anxieties away.

you rolled your eyes, already beginning to think of ways he could return the favour, and started for the door. mcgonagall's shrill voice echoed through the high-ceilinged halls of hogwarts and you were still stumped at how you would drive her away from her course.

"wait!" hissed sirius, tiptoeing over to you.

he wrapped an arm around your waist and he came in for a quick kiss, pressing his closed lips against yours for an instant before running off with his friends to their dorm room. you shook your head, trying to wipe the smile from your face as you exited the gryffindor tower.

"oh, professor!"

"not now, miss y/l/n, i have urgent matters to attend to," the professor dismissed you curtly.

you smirked deviously and shrugged, heading down the stairs. "sirius, wait up!" you called down the stairs, sweeping around the corner as you stifled a giggle.

you heard mcgonagall's footsteps stop abruptly on the stone flooring and her little heeled boots descend the stairs faster than you'd heard before. but you were already turning the corner of another corridor by the time she reached where you had been.

sirius definitely owed you for this.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black fluff #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #marauders era x reader #marauders era fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction

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themousefromfantasyland · 4 months

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A Fairy Tale Rabbit Hole

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is the movie that it started it all for Disney Animation and it's the most influential fairy tale movie ever. Its tropes and its tone still inspires fairy tale media to this day, either as parodies, or homages.

But what less people know is that Walt Disney was inspired to make this movie because of a peculiar silent movie that he watched when he was a teenager.

That movie was Snow White from 1916. Its writer, Winthrop Ames, adapted it from his own Broadway play. An example of American fairy tale theater.

This kept me thinking.

The Wizard of Oz is one of the most iconic fantasy films of all time, and it was made in direct response to Snow White. What people don't know is that the scene where Glinda saves the gang from the deadly poppies with a snowstorm came straight from a fairy tale musical from 1902. It came from The Wizard of Oz, a fairy tale musical "extravaganza", with direct input from L. Frank Baum, only two years after the original novel.

Actually, stage musicals seem to take a slight part in the creation of Oz. The Marvellous Land of Oz, the sequel, seems to be inspired by this stage culture. General Jinjur and her army dresses like chorus girls, Ozma/Tip may be inspired by the crossdressing in children roles, and this was the book's dedication:

"To those excellent good fellows and comedians David C. Montgomery and Frank A. Stone whose clever personations of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow have delighted thousands of children throughout the land, this book is gratefully dedicated by THE AUTHOR"

These were actors of the 1902 stage show.

Two years later, on 1904 Peter and Wendy premiered. This play is also one of the most famous children stories ever. Walt Disney himself acted as Peter in a local production of it and Tinkerbell quickly became a mascot for the studio.

This all led me to think more about fairy tale theater specifically.

Since the ending of the 18th century and through the 19th century, a genre of stage show developed through Europe. It was mostly comedic and light-hearted, mainly inspired by fairy tales, and it was geared towards children and families. It involved lavish fantasy spectacles told through operas, ballets, and what we today would call "musical theater".

It had many different names and variations depending on the country.

On England, it evolved through the pantomimes and it became a Christmas tradition.

In Russian, it was mainly through ballet, called the ballet-féerie, often considered a lower-class, more commercialized entertainment than traditional ballet. Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker are among some of them. Sleeping Beauty would later inspire Disney's telling of the story.

In France they were called Féerie, and it was a mix of music, dancing, pantomime, acrobatics, and stage effects. It influenced the development of burlesque, musical comedy and film.

From Wikipedia:

With his 1899 film version of Cinderella, Georges Méliès brought the féerie into the newly developing world of motion pictures. The féerie quickly became one of film's most popular and lavishly mounted genres in the early years of the twentieth century, with such pioneers as Edwin S. Porter, Cecil Hepworth, Ferdinand Zecca, and Albert Capellani contributing fairy-tale adaptations in the féerie style or filming versions of popular stage féeries like Le Pied de mouton, Les Sept Châteaux du diable, and La Biche au bois. The leader in the genre, however, remained Méliès,[37] who designed many of his major films as féeries and whose work as a whole is intensely suffused with the genre's influence.[38]

Once you realize a huge chunk of fairy tale media has roots in family friendly stage shows from 19th century, a lot of it started making sense.

The focus on romance, the focus on damsels in distress, prevalence of lighter tones, the everlasting connection to music and dance.

They may be the main reason why some fairy tales are more famous than others. Some became source material for a continuous stream of operas, operettas, musical extravaganzas, ballets, plays, and others simply not.

And besides the Victorian Era storybooks that bowdlerized fairy tales for children, I think this whole genre of the theater was responsible to firmly establish fairy tales as a child friendly media, decades before Disney ever released Snow White to cash in that nostalgia.

If you have something to add or if I just got something wrong, feel free to correct me.

@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @adarkrainbow @the-blue-fairie @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @natache @tamisdava2 @thealmightyemprex

#fairy tales #stage shows #ballet #opera #pantomime #19th century

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wisteria-cherry · 7 months

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sirius orion black, III

!!a comprehensive list of every student during the marauders era!!

updates whenever i want really. a series of drabbles with a sprinkling of sirius x reader.

•in which you meet remus lupin | drabble | fluff | slight sirius x fem! reader.

•in which you have your own personal escorts | drabble | fluff | sirius won’t leave you alone.

•in which a prank gets botched by lily evans | drabble | james is a simp for lily evans | sirius is whiny

•in which you discover remus’ secret | drabble | sirius defends you | angst but all is resolved | you find out remus is a werewolf

•in which you discover the true nature of the marauders' relationship with severus snape, as told by remus | drabble | angst | the marauders are kind of toxic | it goes both ways but it's more so them | it's hard to leave people you care about even when you know you should | putting aside your own values for the sake of companionship | remus' hamartia is loyalty | if you have to gaslight yourself into thinking they're not that bad, they probably are that bad | just because the other side does it too, doesn't make it okay for you to

•in which james takes a sick day | drabble | james is sick | no pairing | they all share a brain cell i think

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lemoneste · 2 months

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Are there any comics or cartoon show episodes or anything of Spider-Man, where a villain just kidnaps Peter Parker in order to get to Spider-Man?

I’m aware that there’s like, episodes of Spider-Man cartoons where villains r like “NYEHEHEH PETER PARKER TAKES PICTURES OF SPIDER-MAN FOR THE BUGLE THEREFORE WE WILL TORTURE HIM FOR INFORMATION IN ORDER TO GET TO THE WEBSLINGER!!!”

But like, I would REALLY love to see a version of that where Peter Parker gets the classic “Spider-Man girlfriend damsel in distress treatment” of like, idk getting tied up to a construction crane for the villain to be like “NYEHEE! LET’S SEE THE WALL CRAWLER GET YA OUT OF THIS ONE, PARKER!!” Because I NEED to know what Peter Parker would do in that situation, like ??? Because HE ofc knows that Spider-Man is NOT coming to save him so like!!! I need to see this is this something like is this a real thing anywhere??? I feel like I’m going insane

#spider man #Spider-Man #spiderman #Peter Parker

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justsomeonewithdreams · 6 months

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The magnificent and the beast 1

Peter pevensie x Reader

Summary: After two years of being king Peter the magnificent of Narnia, Peter finds himself in a bad position when he is kidnapped by a group of thieves thinking he is just some rich man crossing the woods, all they want is money but some might end up with more than that.

Just one or two more ,that's what my father said, then we will stop everything. Because living as a thief isn't a real life, not if it has been your family thing since decades. While the white witch was on the throne and Aslan was missing a very big part of Narnia was starving to death, when the Pevensie got up on the throne everyone expected them to change it and they did but not for all of us. Some of us got left out and now we don't have food, home or even money because we can't have job anymore, my family was on of the richest of the north but now we are only thieves and mercenary when the time comes because we couldn't bare the fact to live without knowing if we would even be alive tommorow. We kind of still don't know but if we die now we know it's because we made something to get out of this and that we didn't just wait to die of a long and painfully death.

We just take our positions in the trees, waiting, this is one of the most used path by the rich man in promenade and we kidnapp them asking for money to their family, that's a pretty great business if you're interested in money. I am on the ground waiting for someone to come and play the role of the damsel in distress while my brothers and father are in the trees waiting to jump on the man. Most of them are just pig, and I well know that if my family wasn't there they would not even be ashamed to touch me without my consent, you can see it in their eyes, once they saw you they already imagine what they can do to you, because they are men and they are rich and even if they are old and ugly they still think they are the sexiest narnian of the century.

I can hear him coming, the sound of the feets of his horse on the ground and the birds stopping to sing when he passes, when I hear that he is close enough of where I am hiding I go out and let me fall on the ground of the path, I 'm pretty sure I have dirt all over my tunique but that's alright, he will believe it more that way. "Oh shit!" is all I can hear before he dismount, I 'm pretty sure that now is gonna try to touch me like every other man tried, but nothing comes all I can feel is someone passing his finger under my nose to see if I am breathing before he grab gently my arms and neck, placing my head on his legs, trying to wake me up. Most of the others would have already touched my breath, doesn't he finds me attractive or what, I'm not gonna lie that's a little hit in my ego.

He places a strand of hair behind my hear, cupping one side of my head, not letting me break my neck, lightly shaking my body with his other arm, "Miss can you hear me? Please, open your eyes, Miss can you hear me?", I open my eyes slowly faking as if I got out of a pretty deep sleep. "What is your name? Are you feeling alright?", "yeah I'm good, who are you mister?", "I'm Pet-" it's all he can pronounce before a bag is on his head and my father is already tying his hands while my brother do the same with his legs, the man still fighting as if he could get out of their grasp.

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie x you #peter pevensie imagine

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elvain · 11 months

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MK'S FIC MASTERLIST

hi all! after almost a year of sporadically/regularly posting various fanfic chapters, one-shots, and announcements, i have decided to add a masterlist to my blog of all my writing thus far! this post will be updated as needed and then reblogged. please note all my fics on AO3 are locked/restricted.

Chaptered Fics

(sometimes goodbye is a) second chance - completed at 4 chapters and 8.6k words, 616 Canon Compliant, Pietro Maximoff + Family. In the wake of Magneto's stunning revelation, Pietro Maximoff tries to cope with his past, his present, and his future.

A Semblance of My Soul - ongoing for 8 chapters, 616 Canon Divergent, SteveTony + HankSimon, Documentary Style. Dating in New York is difficult for anyone. Dating in New York as an Avenger is something else entirely. Can love truly be blind? Or are there some realities you can never escape from after all?

dream a little dream of me - completed at 13 chapters and 26.8k words, 616 Canon Divergent, Johnny-centric, JohnnyPeter & JohnnyWyatt. After months of tiptoeing around each other, Johnny and Peter have finally put things right between them. Their relationship is everything Johnny hopes it would be. He should have known better, really.

The Beau Monde - completed at 26 chapters and 68.7 words, Regency AU, X-Men, CarolWanda and BobbyWarren. In a slightly Briderton-adjacent world, the X-Men we know and love must navigate scandal, sex, and, worst of all, society.

Good Food, Good Mood - completed at 6 chapters and 10.9k words, 616 Canon Divergent, WonderBeast. Five times Hank McCoy and Simon Williams got dinner together, and the one time they got breakfast.

Almost - completed at 25 chapters and 59.5k words, 616 Canon Compliant, Spideytorch. Having been good friends and often times coworkers for years now, Peter and Johnny are about to find out that sometimes, almost is not enough and that it is okay to want more.

One-Shots

Angel With A Shotgun - completed at 2.4k, 616 Canon Divergent, AlisonJen. When Alison is taken hostage by AIM agents, She-Hulk swoops in to rescue her damsel in distress.

Indecent Encounters at the Ritz-Carlton - completed at 2.1k words, Canon Compliant, ReedSue, Explicit Sexual Content. Reed and Sue shake things up a little for Valentine's Day.

only you, darling - completed at 2.6k words, Canon Non-Compliant, JeanOroro, Explicit Sexual Content. Ororo has a bad day, but Jean knows just how to cheer her up.

a swift burning inside - completed at 4.8 words, Not 616 Canon Compliant, JohnnyPietro, Explicit Sexual Content. Johnny and Pietro get heated during an Avengers barbecue. And things only get hotter after that.

the edge of night - completed at 2.1k words, 616 Canon Divergent. Thor seeks a place to mourn the loss of his father. Hercules follows.

visions of the self - completed at 2.6k words, 616 Canon Compliant. A study of the ties that bind Jim Hammond, the Vision, and Simon Williams throughout the years.

Hell on Earth - completed at 3k words, 616 Canon Divergent, JohnnyWyatt, Explicit Sexual Content. A lonely road, a long history, and a little car trouble makes things a whole lot more complicated for Johnny Storm and Wyatt Wingfoot.

sick little games - completed at 6.1k words, 616 Canon Divergent, SteveTony, Explicit Sexual Content. Steve wants to maintain at least some professionalism. Tony thinks professionalism is overrated.

Another World - completed at 4.5k, 616 Canon Divergent, Multiversal AU, O5 X-Men. “Do you think we’d still be friends in another life? If we had never been X-Men, if Xavier had never put us all together on the original team?”

should my people fall, surely i'll do the same - completed at 3k, 616 Canon Compliant, JimNamor. At the edge of the world, Namor and Jim choose what the future will bring them.

Sweat, Sand, and Somethin' Else - completed at 2.5k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Two-Gun Kidd/Clint Barton. A hot day in the desert ends even hotter for Clint and Matt when the pressures of the desert become a little too heavy for them both.

liquid dreams - completed at 3.9k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, PeterGwen. After sustaining a minor injury as Spider-Man, Peter must now face his concerned (and breathtaking) girlfriend.

Messily - completed at 4.1k, 616 Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, SteveTony. Date night ends with a bang. 'Nuff said.

reblogs are totally encouraged! catch you around

#feel free 2 interact #i am also adding this to my About Me link in my bio #mkficmasterpost #writermk

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