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webslingingslasher · 2 years ago

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(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?”

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.”

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?”

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?”

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.”

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid.

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.”

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes.

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?”

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.”

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello.

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard.

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year.

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own.

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside.

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’

‘Give me five minutes.’

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs.

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting.

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed.

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it.

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively. “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.”

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?”

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.”

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?”

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.”

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries.

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.”

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.”

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.”

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.”

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.”

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.”

“So this was all for nothing?”

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.”

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.”

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs.

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture.

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie.

“Then introduce yourself.”

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent.

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out.

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this.

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.”

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out.

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears.

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text.

‘friend?’

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions.

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash.

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time.

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left.

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders.

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?”

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ.

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing.

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-”

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.”

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?”

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.”

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.”

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring.

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend.

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious.

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy.

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.”

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?”

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.”

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?”

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.”

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.”

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.”

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.”

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed.

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.”

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours.

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too.

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?”

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.”

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged.

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.”

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.”

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition.

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny.

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch.

“She’s difficult and entitled.”

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul.

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained.

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?”

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back.

“It’s so soft.”

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?”

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious.

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting.

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight.

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion.

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him.

“Peter, hi!”

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.”

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?”

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.”

“I know how to hug.”

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.”

“No.”

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too.

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.”

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear.

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.”

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin.

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.”

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink.

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.”

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second.

“Which album?”

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?”

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?”

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.”

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked.

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back.

“Who’s that?”

You point at yourself, “me.”

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch.

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown.

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.”

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone.

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.”

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away.

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time.

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?”

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand.

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.”

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other.

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for.

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.”

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.”

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.”

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up.

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body.

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.”

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL.

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning.

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.”

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs.

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section.

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-”

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care.

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.”

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach.

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his.

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though.

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?”

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.”

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself.

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!”

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit.

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move.

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.”

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?”

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!”

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.”

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.”

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.”

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.”

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second.

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.”

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.”

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.”

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter.

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.”

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch.

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity.

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work.

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger.

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.”

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now.

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.”

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.”

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.”

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?”

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them.

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?”

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy.

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.”

“You act like one.”

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’ You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug.

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.”

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him.

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to.

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell.

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish.

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more.

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later.

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky.

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?”

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter.

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in.

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket.

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!”

The good one?

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute.

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.”

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort.

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.”

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad.

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky.

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored.

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.”

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.”

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall.

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him.

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?”

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do.

CATHEDRAL HALL.

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

Prince next, “Sam Mason.”

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?”

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.”

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck.

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you.

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it.

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color.

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space.

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it.

“Right,” one step closer.

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you.

“And then?”

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation.

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself.

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.”

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening.

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-”

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip.

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time.

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him.

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck.

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that?

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading.

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same?

“Parker, you out here?”

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker.

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you.

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.”

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing?

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.”

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened.

Just so you could keep it to yourself.

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream.

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball.

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up.

“Cheers, Parker.”

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor.

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges.

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest.

“I bid Isaac Barns.”

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality.

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again.

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first.

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking.

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself.

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you.

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now.

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch.

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you.

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research.

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter.

‘big brother season.’

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x you #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #uni #my writing

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 years ago

Text

Downed

A/N: I got the cut scene of Astarion imitating Halsin in the middle of drafting a drabble, and this is the result. Please enjoy. Tags: Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Half-drow!Reader, gender neutral reader, BG3, TDU!Reader, BG3 Astarion WARNINGS: hallucinations, canon-typical violence. Summary: You get hit by a fear spell while in the Underdark and hallucinate shadows in anticipation of fighting the Shadow Curse, Astarion is angry and it's all Halsin's fault. Apparently.

Word count: 1.6k+

(GIF Credit to @iplann)

All Astarion remembered was seeing you go down.

It was an ambush by two rogue Duergar as you crept through the Underdark. Originally, the pair of you had been on an unimportant quest for you to retrieve some bioluminescent mushrooms to make lanterns; Astarion doesn’t understand the appeal but is also unable to say no to any of your requests.

He regrets being a pushover at that moment, as it’s landed you both in this one.

After you fell, he had lunged across the field and sunk his teeth into the neck of the Duergar casting spells. He refuses to provide the sorcerer a painless death by draining, instead tearing at the flesh with his teeth. A sick gurgling echoes through the grassy hollow you’d been attacked in, and Astarion releases the dwarf. He stumbles for a moment, clutching at the missing area of flesh on his neck before falling face first into the grass.

The other blue-skinned creature freezes at the realization they're fighting a vampire, and Astarion wastes exactly zero time thrusting a rapier directly into her heart.

The vampire instantly changes pace from attack to healing as he dashes towards you and leaves the bodies behind. You’re laid out a few metres away, curled into the fetal position and muttering nonsensical words into the humid air. A putrid green film coats your armor, and Astarion wrinkles his nose at the spell.

“Tav, can you hear me?”

Your eyes find him, familiar but distant and darting about all over the cavern. Astarion recognizes the after effects of a Fear spell, and the Ray of Sickness’ grotesque slime. He was fairly certain the sorcerer had struck you with a bout of sickness while you were paralyzed by fear, hallucinating figures of great evil and unstoppable power.

“...’starion?”

“Fortunately for you, yes.” He quips, trying not to let his voice quiver. “If only I was a Cleric.”

Your eyes search his face, landing quickly on his mouth. Astarion freezes as you tense. “V-Vampire.”

His first instinct is to frown, concealing his fangs from your warped mental state. “All the better to keep you safe. Now come on, we need to make haste back to camp so our resident Cleric-”

You clutch at his collar, a wheeze escaping you. Your frenzied eyes have moved away from his fangs to something in the distance, apparently deciding he was less of a threat. “It’s coming. ‘Starion, please, please, get me out of here.”

Astarion recognizes the delusional panic lacing your voice and chooses to hush you softly instead of turning around. He’s determined not to feed the plague gnawing at your mind, and not to let it invade his. You’re the first thing that’s motivated him, loved him for two centuries and he is terrified to see you in such a state. Every other wound has been bandaged or healed shortly thereafter by Shadowheart, but this is different. He couldn’t cover this with gauze, and nothing in his repertoire includes healing of the mind. Rest and comfort will be the best cure for you.

“It’s a spell, darling.” He coaxes you into looking back at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There’s no stopping the feral gleam in your gaze and Astarion knows you need to get somewhere safe to rest, to be rid of this ailment. He ignores the stink of your gear and scoops you into his arms, immediately angered by the tremors wracking your body. Your arms wrap tight around his statuesque neck and shoulders.

“They’re everywhere.” You whimper into his collar, pointing towards the Duergar’s bodies.

Curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s everywhere?”

“The sh-shadows.” You manage, fingers swiping through half-dried blood on his face. “They’re coming.”

Astarion curses Halsin under his breath. The camp’s talks of making it through the Shadow-Cursed lands had been a hot topic as of late, brought to them by Halsin’s tales of suffocating darkness and misery. It was true you had to navigate through them, but Astarion had his own qualms with wasting their time trying to fix it in order to please the Druid. Especially since said Druid had been eyeing you up as if he were starving each time you saunter across camp.

“There’s too many of your glowing mushrooms here to be any threatening shadows, dear.”

Astarion trudges further into the hollow, finding a small secluded cove to one side. It’s as if the Gods were anticipating someone making a camp out of it - the small opening is no more than a metre wide, and damp lichen hangs in wisps from overhead. Fungi of numerous colors and brightness glow around you both, and there’s a moment of worry that they've stumbled into a transportation circle. The last thing he needs is to be unwittingly thrust to the surface in the Hag’s putrid swamp or a Gnoll’s den. A few fleeting taps with his toes stir no magic in the foliage, and Astarion feels comfortable enough to set you down.

He digs through both your backpacks for supplies, coming up with two bedrolls and enough wood to stack for a half-ass campfire. It takes only a couple minutes to get your outer layer of clothes off and your body settled on a bedroll before Astarion moves onto the fire.

Dancing flames have your rapt attention when they spring up from the wood. “No shadows.”

The child-like tone you carry in your confusion tugs at Astarion’s dead heart. “Correct, my sweet. No shadows here. Just a vampire and a very, very confused monk.”

You seem to settle in between bouts of coughing. Astarion sheds his armor to lessen the smell of sickness and looks through his pack once again, coming up empty for any elixir to remedy your fear. He instead stands to peek out of your makeshift camp, confident that as you settle your condition may improve.

“N-No!” You burst out into a fit as the vampire moves away, one hand clutching his boot. “You can’t leave me here.”

Any intention of looking out is forgotten as you begin to cry. Astarion hushes you like a scared animal, pulling the bed rolls together and joining you on the floor. He indulges you in a rare moment of gentility, pulling you into his side and whispering into your hair. These moments back at camp are rare, saved for when your mates are asleep or out of sight.

It isn’t until you pull away from the crook of his neck that he notices your eyes are sharper, no longer darting about or hazed over with artificial fear. Despite this, tears still leak from them.

“Tav? Are you all right?”

You sniff softly. “I’m so tired, Astarion. And I feel terrified… like something’s watching me. But something in me knows it’s not real.”

He nods, tongue running along his fangs. “Damned sorcerer that ambushed us struck you with a Fear spell.”

“I had a dream that we were near Moonrise Towers.” You flounder for a moment, “There were shadows everywhere.”

“Not a dream, I’m afraid. More a hallucination than anything.” Astarion explains, “A real drag to bring along after the fight, you were.”

His teasing is welcome, chasing away the worst tendrils of darkness licking at your mind. “Cheeky… But I’ve never taken the blow from a Fear spell before. This is awful.”

Astarion can tell your mind is still fearful despite breaking through the confusion, parasite reaching out to his in flashes of white hot panic and terror. Your heart is racing, the ever-so-tempting vein in your neck throbbing in sync. It’s a juxtaposition against your determined face, trying so hard to remain strong.

“Afraid so… I’ll be speaking with Halsin about his persistence in this shadow curse solution. No need for it to plague you like this. Especially seeing as we haven’t even trudged our way through the Underdark yet.” Astarion’s voice is sharp and surprisingly protective.

“Astarion, I do feel obligated-”

“You should feel obligated to do nothing. You already play peacemaker for these morons, no need for them to dump all their hopes and dreams on you. Especially when your mind uses them to terrify you.”

A weak chuckle escapes you, and your fingers toy with the fabric of his undershirt. “I think the effects of the spell were to blame for my terror.”

“The effects of the spell are determined by the worries in your mind. In other words, the man of the forest can take them all elsewhere.”

You snort at his distaste towards Halsin, as it’s not the first time you’ve noticed.

A particularly loud drip of water somewhere in the hollow causes you to jolt into Astarion, adrenaline still coursing like fire through your body. “Gods. How long am I going to feel like a mouse?”

Astarion grips you a little tighter, “Until you rest, most likely.”

“Are you going to meditate?” You ask, curling into his side.

“I’ll be keeping watch. You need to sleep. Heal your mind from this wretched curse.” Astarion’s words are a little too aggressive, his own nervous mind still concerned for your wellbeing above all else.

You’re familiar with the tone, and can only smile softly at the vampire’s inability to express concern without placing blame. Perhaps all this talk of a Shadow Curse had caused you to be plagued by such figures in the depths of the spell, but you don’t place blame on Halsin.

Though, you were certain Astarion would never see it that way.

He’s taken a moment to relax now, laying on his back with an arm behind his head. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked over his. Astarion’s other hand traces patterns onto yours, lazy circles that lull your mind into a quiet sense of security. The terror subsides ever so slowly, intensity halved while lying in his arms.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?”

“I’m okay, you know.”

A huff answers, and a brief rush of words. “I’m still blaming the Druid.”

“Of course you are.”

_______________________________________

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

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Masterlist | Send me ideas

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion x Tav #Astarion x OC #Astarion x Half-drow!Reader #Astarion x You #gender neutral reader #BG3 #TDU!Reader #Astarion #BG3 Astarion #bg3 astarion x you #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #underdark #duergar #halsin #dnd druid #bg3 halsin #bg3 romance

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smilingangel582 · 8 months ago

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Still sensitive, sis?

Nauuur, I love these guys! I finally finished Arcane, and too bad there won't be a season 3. I also figured that Isha deserves more and she couldn't even bond with Vi... so why not? Jinx being a little shit as always!

Spoilers alert!

Enjoy this second fic as this takes place in episode 5 during that silly little sibling fight with Jinx and Vi. Instead of a bitch fight its a tickle fight.

Warning: cute siblings, tickles, spoilers for arcane up s2 ep 5, swearing

"Seriously Jinx, what tricks are you up to this time?" Vi grumbles as she follows Jinx and Isha through the tracks whole hearing the faint clapping to light the mushrooms.

Jinx is getting slightly annoyed now, she turns to her sister with a scoff. "Ugh... I told you! Vander is alive!"

"Delusional..." Vi snorts.

"Honestly," this time her attention the little girl walking in front of them, Isha, "She used to be cooler than this... well I did kick her butt..."

The smirk triggered Vi, who spoke in a soft yet menacing voice, "Don't test me, Jinx... you know very well that I'm stronger"

"Oh yh fat hands?" JIinx teased now, "You got too cocky because you got some bitch-mittens that..." she murmurs the last part mockingly, "you didn't even build your self"

That does it...

Vi's hands relaxed, realising the gauntlets now letting the fall. She lifted her bare bandaged fists now, glaring, "I don't need these to fight... unlike you who need your gadgets to-"

Slap!

Vi star struck, her foot taking a step back due to the surprising move as Jinx slapped her nonchalantly. She smirks, "You were saying?"

Then it starts.

Vi pulled Jinx by the hair now, but Jinx tackles her down, attempting to pin her sister down.

Isha concerned etched wanted to step in but remains back for now in case things get serious.

"Last chance to surrender!" Vi flips Jinx, who's skinny legs began to kick as Vi tried to pin her down despite the punches weakly hitting her.

"Never far hands!"

"I am stronger!"

Jinx grunts now then gets an idea, she swiftly slides beneath Vi, so her hands could slip beneath open black jacket where Vi's bare waist was, giving a gentle tickle.

"Gaha!" Surprised but electrical sensation she falls to the side now glaring, "Hey!"

"Aww, still sensitive, sis?"

Vi couldn't help blush as she grabbed Jinx hands before they could tickle her again, firmly keeping them away from her sides, "F-fight fairly you idiot"

Jinx grins now despite being physically overpowered she won the battle.

"Yh? Watch me!" Jinx smirks, now calling over Vi's shoulder, "Alright, kid, go for her ribs!"

Before Vi could protest (or better react to anything), she felt Isha's small fingers instantly tickling the back of ribs through the thin bandages. Perhaps her old jacket could've saved her sensitive skin.

"Eeek! S-stop that!" Vi never imagined she would let out such an awful squeal of surprise. Jinx laughed at that now freeing herself she began to pin one of Vi's arms down sneakily going for her armpit.

"Uh oh sis, you're in trouble," Jinx sneered, being the little evil she is even as a child when she was Powder. Vi usually hid her sensitivity from the others, but Vander and Powder really got her good as she had her guard down around them.

It's been a while since she faced pure humiliation.

"Gahaha cuhuhut thehehe crahahahap! Hahaha, J-Jihihinx! S-Stahahap!" Vi couldn't keep her limbs controlled when she felt twenty fingers tickling her ribs, armpit, and waist.

"Wow Vi, your bandages are so thin..." She grins menacingly. "Such a shame, it makes you an easy target"

"Ahahah, G-gohoho ahahahawaay!" Vi tried shoving Jinx, but Isha would be stepping into distract her, and she couldn't hit the sweet child.

"Ahah -EHE! NOHOT THERE!"

Jinx tickles her stomach much gentler now, but mercilessly, "Ahh, still the same tickle spot! You should laugh more, sis... It looks nice on you"

"A-AHAHA! J-JUHUJUST SHUT THEHEHEHE FUHUHUCK UHUHUP!" Vi shrieks into wild cackles now when Jinx continues to mercilessly torture her firm six back middle. she curls to a ball to defend herself, but it doesn't help at all, especially since Jinx.

"Isha~, try the knees too. My sister gets super screechy there!"

How the hell she remember those??

"N-noho! D-do-!"

Isha grunts, not really listening to Vi, but understanding that Jinx's orders are absolute... then she crawls towards Vi's failing knees, which were easily grabbed. Vi panic when she feels the softness of her fingers under the knees through the ripped leather jeans, "AAAH! EEEE SHIT! GAAAHAHA! NOHOO MORE! OHOK FUCKING HELL -NOHO!"

Her worst spots were attacked, so... she had to submit.

"Hmm? What was that Vi?" Jinx giggles now, slightly happy that she gets to mess with her older sister again, "You sure you want a swear when you clearly knows you're losing"

"I-I... EEEH!" The surprise tickle to her stomach caught her. Vi uses her free hand to cover her lips, embarrassed that she actually squeals. "F-Fine! Fihihine! You win wihihin!"

Jinx grins, getting and even pulling Isha to her lap, who didn't want to stop tormenting Vi

"You always were weak to this sis," despite her attempts to tease her, she sounded nostalgic and soft. Vi pants, now sighing but also softening.

"Ok... we're leaving..." she gets ul putting on her gauntlets. Jinx chuckles, enjoying Vi's red ears, as she moves ahead, grumbling.

"Good to have you back, sis." Jinx smiles fondly as Vi is already ahead, and Isha runs too now, dragging Jinx with her. Somewhere in her features, Vi had a soft smiling playing on her wrists.

#tickle fic #cute #arcane #tickle arcane #lee!vi #ticklish!vi #ler!jinx #ler!isha #arcane tickle

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alt-lucidifer · 1 month ago

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Okay so I'm gonna go on an excited rant here. So I may or may not have been listening to a certain song and gotten hella inspired and now I need to note down this idea somewhere before I forget it.

I have been reading a lot of svsss fanfics and it hit me so hard; I've never seen a fanfic exploring what would happen if Shen Jiu was ever given a glimpse of SY!SQQ's future. Angst, no doubt. So that could happen. But also. But also. But what if he instead was given control of SY body during the Water Prison arc.

Rather than fleeing like SY did, I think SJ would start formulating a plan. Then I was given the genius idea of giving SJ simultaneously a redemption arc and a further-blackening storyline. As he's already experienced a lifetime where he betrayed and abused LBH, I think he would rethink his actions—but not regret them. He still hates LBH. So instead, he starts rooting out issues that led to his eventual demise whilst also dealing with the bullshit SY left behind for him. What is happening with SY, you ask? Well... Plantyuan? I imagine his soul would kind of be in a comatose state while the mushroom body grows. Like being put on hold during a call, I suppose.

Then past the Jinlan City arc, SJ returns with LQG and YQY to Cang Qiong Sect. He distances himself and in true MXTX fashion, misunderstandings occur. SJ is STILL plotting, actually making use of his lofty immortal image to garner some attention that he uses to worm his way into positions of power. Then SY and SJ end up face to face years later... This could go in all sorts of direcions!

I imagine that power would be a big part of SJ character. He doesn't hunger for more like Binghe, but in a way he is never satisfied. His perfectionism stretches even to himself. But he is eternally ruined, he knows—there are some parts of him that he cannot mend. He cannot be perfect. Thus, no one else is allowed to be perfect. It's basically a superiority and inferiority complex in one. In the end, I think SJ would either destroy the sect from within before LBH has a chance to slaughter them all, since he doesn't actually want anyone to die. I think he would see it as choosing a lesser evil. SJ is by no means a morally gray character—he was a villain. But with knowledge of his "future" and mild influence by SY, I think he could become a more complex and less "good" or "bad" straightforward blank slate. Of course he already has a backstory, but I feel like there's sm left unexplored!

But I'm already working on Book-Wielder’s Normopathy... Oh well.

#danmei #my writing #writing #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #scum villain self saving system #mxtx svsss #a03 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #shen jiu #shen yuan #shen qingqiu

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kissingraine · 2 months ago

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love love LOVEEE your Bayverse Starscream, by any chance will you ever decide to write about BV Jazz? thanks for hearing me out!

ofc!! although i dont really write for the Autobots—not that i have anything against them, im just super Decepticon-centered cus villains are more fun to write lol. BUT!! i will absolutely write for their shattered glass versions. evil autobots? *chefs kiss* (thank you for asking anon i now have a legit reason to do sg versions of bayverse😝)

18+

In for the Kill — SG Bayverse Jazz x f!Reader

• The whole thing had been a dare. Ironically, you found it funny and went along with your friend's suggestion. Scripting out what you wanted to happen in an alternate universe was half-assed. The rules were the important bit, because experts mentioned that pain was very much real while shifting—and dying—was a territory they wouldn’t even think about crossing into. Your friend calls it cowardice; you call it self-preservation. So you wrote: painless, indestructible, and undying. Two hours of useless research because it’s the summer—so who cares what you do for the rest of the season? And then, the safe words.

“Safe words?” You quirk a brow at your best friend. “What is this? BDSM?”

“Failsafe, dumbass.”

She’s lounging on your bed, head dangling off the edge before giggling at you. “It's so you can just shift back outta there whenever you want. Real convenient. Makes poly drama easier to escape from. I picked mine from my TikTok username.”

You grimace. “For real? You're going to shout Mikkelsen's-raggedy-cumsock every time you want out?” She laughs again at your dead-serious tone, ending in a wheeze. “What universe are we even shifting into, anyway? Is this shit even real?”

“Like I said, the specifics don't matter since we're just doing this for fun. Harry Potter’s most common,” she reminds you, holding up her phone to show the YouTube video currently playing—your reference for this dumb dare. “See? Proven and tested. You won’t get stuck.”

Not sure if you trust her after the last time she switched out your shiitake mushrooms with the chemical ones. You swear you can hear colors now. She sighs, “C’mon. It’s literally impossible. Everyone always wakes up.”

• That’s what should’ve happened. That was the deal. You should have woken up in your bed—or on the ratty couch in your garage. You did everything right: fell asleep, focused, followed the script to a damn T. Get eight hours in your desired reality and snap right back—no consequences. Just a lucid dream with fanfic flavor. But this? This wasn’t dreamlike. This was wrong. You’d hit the pavement hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and the world that now surrounded you felt too real. The gray sky hung low, thick with soot and smoke. Empty skyscrapers loomed like burnt-out spires. Somewhere in the distance, something huge screamed. The sound of twisted metal—like a machine dying slow.

• Heart pounding in your ears, you push yourself up with effort. “It’s just a dream,” you whisper, comforting yourself. “This is my desired reality? Whatever. I’ll wake up soon.” You hope. Glancing down, your hands are bleeding, though the pain is practically nonexistent. It’s the wind biting your skin that makes you hug yourself closer. And when the ground begins to shake with three consecutive booms, you know something has gone off-script. Was this even still Chicago? The buildings look like they were at war with something bigger than nature. A few signs are in English, but mostly cracked and faded—one hanging by a single rusted chain.

PEACE EARNED THROUGH SACRIFICE.

• Maybe you should’ve just gone with Harry Potter after all. Bet your friend’s having fun annoying the emo teacher. There’s a symbol spray-painted in crimson against the side of a dilapidated grocery store—looking exactly like the Autobot crest. Until it feels like it’s leering right back at you. And now you’re stuck hiding behind an overturned truck, praying the footsteps nearby aren’t Autobot patrol. Because the first six hours in this hellhole version of Earth haven’t exactly been pleasant. And the first time you’d seen them—the graffiti on the walls that called them heroes—you watched them raze a downtown district for noncompliance.

They weren’t Autobots. Not the friendly Transformers. Not really.

It was like someone looked into an inverted mirror that didn’t flip left and right, but good and evil. Familiar silhouettes performing unfamiliar sins the Decepticons never managed to achieve.

“I was wonderin’ what smelled so different.”

• The voice comes from above—smooth, languid, almost amused. And you freeze as a black shape looms, crouched on the truck’s undercarriage like a panther made of chrome and metal. Obsidian plating. Crimson piping. Matching visors. Sharp metallic teeth that could only belong to a grinder—or a paper shredder, but bigger and dramatic. You don’t move. Can’t, actually. Thinking that maybe if you stay still long enough, this guy’ll think you’re trash and go away. He looks familiar, though. Swear you’ve seen him on a billboard somewhere, after their leader started working with the military. His name’s on the tip of your tongue. A band—no, a music genre? What music do saxophone players play again? Jazz?

“Jazz.”

What surprises Ricochet isn’t the fact that you knew his old designation or that you’re just wandering around without the engineered fear Ratchet built into your kind at the sight of an Autobot. That’s part of it. But it’s your tone. It wasn’t awe. Or fear. More like he was a speck of dirt you were tired of wiping off. Disappointment? How dare you.

He’s bored. Bored out of his damn processor. And it’s not the kind of boredom that comes with peace—that kind never existed on Earth anymore. It’s the gnawing, bitter kind. The kind that sets in after the fiftieth execution of the week, when the targets all start begging the same way. Same cries. Same oil spatters on the wall. Even his favorite screams are like looped static on a busted record.

“Please, I have a family—”

“Please, I didn’t know—”

Please. Please. Pleas.

Ricochet’s heard it all by now. That’s what happens when someone like him masters perfection. It’s his fault for being such an excellent enforcer, really. He’s thought about picking a fight with Soundwave just for the static-shriek it’d cause. Or planting a bomb in Goldbug’s bunker again. But Prime had been on edge lately—more than usual—and he liked his joints right where they were. So he left the boss alone to broadcast about enforcing peace that week.

He twirls a loose bolt in his claw, flicking it upward, catching it again. One of his own, maybe. Didn’t care. Was it so hard for Primus to give him something new? Something unexpected? He deserves a reward for performing with such refined artistry!

Then, a scent. Faint and wrong. It makes him stiffen, his visors flaring. It’s not energon or exhaust. Definitely soft. Alive, in a way the locals stopped being vorns ago. Organic. Off, yet human.

The cycle is finally breaking.

And he can’t wait to break this one open too.

#transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #bayverse #shattered glass #sg bayverse #tf jazz #transformers jazz #transformers bayverse #sg jazz #sg ricochet #sg transformers #bayverse jazz

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memymay · 1 year ago

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Mychael ~ Mushroom Oasis Oneshot

Chronically online reader pt.1

Who also has a worryingly short attention span

Fluff ~ GN Reader ~ No TWs

Reader Insert Master list ⭐️

!!NOTE!! This is not entirely accurate to the VN, usually i refer back to it making sure that i got everything correct, i did not do that for this one. I pulled the details from memory. If something’s wrong please leave a comment.

“Ok, I’ve got my phone, portable charger, and just in case i get lost, a solar charger…” you list off, looking at the many items spread across your bed. “My laptop and a charger, the forest might be a nice place to get work done. Peaceful too. Headphones, earbuds, extra charger…” you pause, thinking for a moment. you shouldn’t be out for too long, at most, you should be back by sunset. But you were hoping that once you found your precious furry little mischievous cat you could sit and get some work done, or maybe watch some anime. It was a rarity that you went outside anymore let alone adventuring through the woods. Why not take advantage of it?

“Oh yeah! Water and stacks, i should grab those too. And maybe some cat treats~” humming to yourself you walked to the kitchen, searching through your cabinets. “Maybe I should bring some soda too…” you muttered, reaching for your drinks. Walking back to your bedroom you start stuffing your backpack, ready for this journey. Stepping outside, the sun hit your face, blinding you. Squinting while your eyes adjusted you looked around. “Curse you evil day star, why do you gotta be so damn bright?” You muttered under your breath as you started walking into the forest. The shade of the trees eased the suns assault on your eyes, but it was still to bright for your liking.

after a while of walking, you came across a small patch of mushrooms. You stopped for a moment to look around. (And to rest a bit, all that stuff you packed is really heavy) there was something laying near the mushroom patch. Gasping as you reached down to pick up a collar “you must be close… just wait a little longer…” you muttered to the collar. As you stood back up, but your foot slipped causing you to crash back down and into the mushrooms. They sprayed you with what you assumed to be a foul smelling pollen. “Nooooo!” You wined, looking at your clothes. “I really liked this hoodie, it’s going to take forever to get all the allergens out. Eugh! And the smell…”

As you sat there, a sense of calm started to seep in. Along with the need to take a nap. Your eyes grew heavy, and your limbs relaxed. Closing your eyes, you decided to go ahead and take a nap. Laying down, you rested your head on your backpack. As you started to drift off, you thought that maybe your cat will back track and find you here. it would be a nice surprise to wake up with them back in your arms, snuggled up all cozy. Yeah, that would be nice.

“Ughhhh” you mentally groaned as you slowly woke up, begrudgingly you opening your eyes and noted that you were in an unfamiliar cabin. You couldn’t move your body causing you to spur into a panic. Where am I? Why can’t I move? Wait what happened? Was I drugged?! I think i was taking a nap, yeah, how long was I out?

“Oh, You’re awake.” A voice called from a corner of the room I couldn’t see.

“Here, medicine.” He said, moving me to sit up as he pressed a cup to my lips. Drinking it helped feeling slowly return to my body. As I wiggles my fingers and toes I watched him whip a stray stream from my chin. He had this weird mossy skin color… Was he a cosplayer? He looked kinda cute. His blonde hair hung over his eyes, and he had a cute mushroom hat on.

“Felling better? Anymore numbness?”

“No, my fingertips are a bit tingly, but that’s it.”

He signed and gave me a warm smile, “Good, I was worried.”

“By the wayyyyy” you dragged out, as you sat up “Where’s my bag?”

“Oh, right over there.” He gestured over to the fireplace where your bag sat next to the wall. “Here.” He said, standing up to hand you the bag.

Struggling, still loopy from whatever the hell paralyzed you, you scramble checking your bag. “Laptop, phone, charger, yep, yes, andddd everything’s still here!” You mumble to yourself. All the expensive electronics are not stolen, but also still in working conditions. Or at least you assume, both your phone and iPad are dead, the laptop is at 1%.

“Did you drop something?” The man asks,

“Thankfully not. A lotta expinsive stuff in here.” You look around, taking in the wooden walls and floors, “where am I anyway?”

“My cabin, I found you passed out while forgoing. Sorry, there was nowhere else nearby” he trails off, looking out the window.

“how far is the nearest town?”

He looks off to the side, a guilty look on his face, “I don’t know for certain, but it takes about a day and a half to safely get to the nearest-“

“A DAY AND A HALF!?” You almost shriek, he covers his ear, slightly flinching at the volume. “If you want to avoid the dangerous plants and animals, yes.” He responds, stepping closer and sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. He reached a hand out, wanting to comfort you, but decided against it.

You sat back, closing your eyes and thinking. ‘maybe I could stay here for a day or two? Then I could head back. Yeah, that should be enough time to mentally prepare myself. Then-‘

“Wait why was I even out here?” Instinctively you reached for your phone, wanting to check your notes. But remembering its dead, you pivoted to pretend you were going to clean the nonexistent dirt off the screen.

“WAIT!” Halfway through the action you remember, “My cat!” You wine.

“Have you seen them, they’re this big, and- and- ughhh I need to charge my phone i have pictures.” You rush to grab your charger. “I never thought I’d need this” you say pulling out the solar charger. “I’m glad it wasn’t just wasted money.”

Stumbling past him you set the charger on the nearby window and wait.

A few awkward moments pass by before your phone lights up. You hurriedly type in your passcode and go to your photos, the boy watching curiously over your shoulder.

“See! Aren’t they just the just the cutest! Look here are some kitten pictures!”

Watching you talk so passionately about your cat pulled at Mychael’s heart. He wasn’t going to tell you before, but now he definitely doesn’t want to tell you. You looked so happy, he enjoyed watching the way your eyes light up, and the way you smiled at the memories.

“Oh, I really got off track… but have you seen them?”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.” He frowned.

“Oh…” your face fell, and he really didn’t like seeing you sad.

“Wait, I haven’t even told you my name! Sorry I get distracted a lot.” You said turning to look at him.

“I’m y/n”

“I’m Mychael”

Notes~

This is a lot longer than I expected it to be TvT. Originally I was gonna post tkatb or 14 days with you. However there’s like, barely any Mychael content out there (I read through it all in one sitting…) so I wanted to add a bit more there.

#mushroom oasis van #mushroom oasis mychael x y/n #mychael x y/n #mushroom oasis x reader #mushroom oasis #Mychael mushroom oasis #Mychael mushroom oasis x reader #x reader

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correlance · 1 year ago

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Paradise Lost: How John Milton's 1667 work influenced "Hazbin Hotel"

I've been thinking about why the "fruit of knowledge" in Hazbin Hotel is depicted as an apple, as opposed to another fruit that would've been more accurate to the Middle East during the Fall of Man, as well as how Paradise Lost by John Milton (1667) influenced the show.

Per one source:

"Because the Hebrew Bible describes the forbidden fruit only as 'peri', the term for general fruit, no one knows [what exactly type of fruit it was]. It could be a fruit that doesn't exist anymore. Historians have speculated it may have been any one of these fruits: pomegranate, mango, fig, grapes, etrog or citron, carob, pear, quince, or mushroom."

Per Wikipedia:

"The pseudepigraphic Book of Enoch describes the tree of knowledge: 'It was like a species of the Tamarind tree, bearing fruit which resembled grapes extremely fine; and its fragrance extended to a considerable distance. I exclaimed, How beautiful is this tree, and how delightful is its appearance!' (1 Enoch 31:4)."

In Jewish and Islamic traditions, the "fruit of knowledge" is commonly identified with grapes. The Zohar explains that Noah attempted (but failed) to rectify the sin of Adam by using grape wine for holy purposes. Today, the "Noah grape" is still used to make white wine.

Furthermore:

"The association of the pomegranate with knowledge of the underworld as provided in the Ancient Greek legend of Hades and Persephone may also have given rise to an association with knowledge of the 'otherworld', tying-in with knowledge that is forbidden to mortals. It is also believed Hades offered Persephone a pomegranate to force her to stay with him in the underworld for 6 months of the year. Hades is the Greek god of the underworld, and the Bible states that whoever eats the forbidden fruit shall die."

So, how then did the apple become the foremost symbol of the "fruit of knowledge"? You can partly thank Paradise Lost by English poet John Milton, a work which the lore of Hazbin Hotel is based off of.

Milton published the book in 1667, a time when the hedonistic Restoration era was in full swing. The exiled King Charles II was restored to the throne as King of England in 1660, and was a party animal, with dozens of mistresses, and nicknamed both the "playboy prince" and "Old Rowley", the latter after his favorite lustful stallion.

However, the association of the "fruit of knowledge" began with a Latin pun long before Milton immortalized the association in Paradise Lost. Per the linked article above by Nina Martyris for NPR:

"In order to explain, we have to go all the way back to the fourth century A.D., when Pope Damasus ordered his leading scholar of scripture, Jerome, to translate the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome's path-breaking, 15-year project, which resulted in the canonical 'Vulgate', used the Latin spoken by the common man. As it turned out, the Latin words for evil and apple are the same: 'malus'.

[...] When Jerome was translating the 'Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil', the word 'malus' snaked in. A brilliant but controversial theologian, Jerome was known for his hot temper, but he obviously also had a rather cool sense of humor.

'Jerome had several options,' says Robert Appelbaum, a professor of English literature at Sweden's Uppsala University. 'But he hit upon the idea of translating 'peri' as 'malus', which in Latin has two very different meanings. As an adjective, 'malus' means 'bad' or 'evil'. As a noun it seems to mean an apple, in our own sense of the word, coming from the very common tree now known officially as the 'Malus pumila'. So Jerome came up with a very good pun.'

The story doesn't end there. 'To complicate things even more,' says Appelbaum, 'the word 'malus' in Jerome's time, and for a long time after, could refer to any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. A pear was a kind of 'malus'. So was the fig, the peach, and so forth.'

Which explains why Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel fresco features a serpent coiled around a fig tree. But the apple began to dominate Fall artworks in Europe after the German artist Albrecht Dürer's famous 1504 engraving depicted the First Couple counterpoised beside an apple tree. It became a template for future artists such as Lucas Cranach the Elder, whose luminous Adam and Eve painting is hung with apples that glow like rubies.

Milton, then, was only following cultural tradition. But he was a renowned Cambridge intellectual fluent in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, who served as secretary for foreign tongues to Oliver Cromwell during the Commonwealth. If anyone was aware of the 'malus' pun, it would be him, and yet he chose to run it with it. Why?

Appelbaum says that Milton's use of the term 'apple' was ambiguous. 'Even in Milton's time the word had two meanings: either what was our common apple, or, again, any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. Milton probably had in mind an ambiguously named object with a variety of connotations as well as denotations, most but not all of them associating the idea of the apple with a kind of innocence, though also with a kind of intoxication, since hard apple cider was a common English drink.'

It was only later readers of Milton, says Appelbaum, who thought of 'apple' as 'apple', and not any seed-bearing fruit. For them, the forbidden fruit became synonymous with the 'malus pumila'. As a widely read canonical work, 'Paradise Lost' was influential in cementing the role of apple in the Fall of Man story."

To tie this back into John Milton's relationship with King Charles II of England, as mentioned, Milton originally served Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England, and the English Commonwealth, which was formed with the overthrow and execution of King Charles I on 30 January 1649, following the bloody English Civil War (1642 – 1651).

The King's two sons - the newly-christened King Charles II, the elder, and James, Duke of York (King James II), the younger - fled into exile on the European continent. However, with the death of Oliver Cromwell on 3 September 1658 came the 2-year-long dissolution of the English Commonwealth, and the restoration of the monarchy.

As for Milton himself, we can look to an article by Bill Potter.

Milton, born on 9 December 1608, was around 51-52 years old when King Charles II was restored to the throne. He attended Christ's Church, Cambridge in his youth, and mastered at least six languages, as well as history and philosophy; making him, perhaps, the most knowledgeable poet in history. He spent more than a year travelling across Europe, conversing with and learning from intellectuals, linguists, poets, and artists, including the famous Galileo Galilei.

However, Milton was a controversial figure of his time, being unafraid to criticize institutions of authority; arguing that "divorce was Biblical", for which he was routinely condemned; joining the Puritans; penning the Areopagitica, a treatise on liberty in favor of Parliament and the Roundhead rebels, during the reign of King Charles I, arguing that the King must be held accountable by the people; and agreed with and justified the murder of King Charles I, for which Parliament hired him in 1649 as a propagandist and correspondence secretary to foreign powers, on account of his fiery manifestos against "the man".

The collapse of the Commonwealth with the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658 did not deter Milton from continued political writing against the monarchy and the new public sentiment that brought about its Restoration under King Charles II in 1660. On the contrary, Milton - now totally blind, having lost his eyesight by the age of 44 in 1652, a decade earlier - began writing Paradise Lost in 1661, and spent the next six years dictating the work to transcribers.

A supporter of regicide, Milton was also forced into exile himself, and faked his own death, as Charles refused to pardon - and sought to execute - any of those directly involved with his father's murder. Milton's friends held a mock funeral for Milton on 27 August 1660, just months after the coronation of King Charles II on 23 April 1660.

King Charles II commented that he "applauded his [Milton's] policy in escaping the punishment of death [execution for treason] by a reasonable show of dying", but insisted on a public spectacle nonetheless by having Milton's writings burned by the public hangman.

After eventually obtaining a general pardon from King Charles II, Milton was imprisoned, and released, likely due to political friends in high places. He died, aged 64, in 1674. His theological views were sometimes considered heterodox by the best Puritans, and his political views came close to getting him executed on several occasions. His poetry, however, has endured as some of the greatest works in the English language, especially Paradise Lost; much of his greatest work was written during his 22 years of complete blindness.

One of the main factors in King Charles II deciding to grant a pardon to Milton was, ironically, Paradise Lost. While originally written by Milton as a scathing criticism of King Charles II and the monarchy - depicting Lucifer Morningstar as a sympathetic rebel against God, with King Charles II claiming that is right to rule came from "divine ordainment" - Charles II enjoyed the work, and authorized its publication on 20 August 1667. We know this because a 1668 copy of Paradise Lost in royal bindings by Samuel Mearne, bound lovingly in a fine red leather made of goat skins tanned with sumac, and stamped in gold with the royal cypher of King Charles II, was found. The endpapers bore a watermark with the royal arms of Charles II.

Per one Miltonian scholar: "The most single important event in Milton's life was the event against which he struggled most: the Restoration of Charles II, [and his relationship with the King]. Had it not come, we might have never had Paradise Lost...certainly, we should never have had [it] in [its] present power and significance."

Milton followed up Paradise Lost with Paradise Regained in 1671, three years before his death, with advice for King Charles II, urging the hedonistic Charles to "reign over himself and his passions":

"For therein stands the office of a King, His Honour, Vertue, Merit and chief Praise, That for the Publick all this weight he bears. Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, Desires, and Fears, is more a King; Which every wise and vertuous man attains: And who attains not, ill aspires to rule Cities of men, or head-strong Multitudes, Subject himself to Anarchy within, Or lawless passions in him which he serves." - John Milton, Paradise Regained, Book II, lines 463-472

To summarize: "If we must have a King back again, my Lord, please try to be a good man, unlike your father, who fell to his pride, [which was also the downfall of Lucifer]."

To quote another source: "Though the passage begins by noting that the office of a King is to bear the weight of public concerns, it is the control of one's private concerns that truly set a King apart as a virtuous character. Indeed, so important is self-command that any wise or virtuous man who attains it is like a king; any king who does not practice [self-command] is nothing more than a mere subject, ruled by anarchy and lawlessness."

Milton's words, too, echo a work written by Charles' grandfather, King James VI/I of Scotland and England: Basilikon Doron ("Royal Gift").

Per Wikipedia:

"'Basilikon Doron' (Βασιλικὸν Δῶρον) means 'royal gift' in Ancient Greek, and was written in the form of a private letter to James' eldest son, Henry, Duke of Rothesay (1594–1612). After Henry's death, James gave it to his second son, Charles, born 1600, later King Charles I. Seven copies were printed in Edinburgh in 1599, and it was republished in London in 1603, when it sold in the thousands.

This document is separated into three books, serving as general guidelines to follow to be an efficient monarch. The first describes a king's duty towards God as a Christian. The second focuses on the roles and responsibilities in office. The third concerns proper behaviour in daily life.

As the first part is concerned with being a good Christian, James instructed his son to love and respect God as well as to fear Him. Furthermore, it is essential to carefully study the Scripture (the Bible) and especially specific books in both the Old and New Testaments. Lastly, he must pray often and always be thankful for what God has given him.

In the second book, James encouraged his son to be a good king, as opposed to a tyrant, by establishing and executing laws as well as governing with justice and equality, such as by boosting the economy. The final portion of the Basilikon Doron focuses on the daily life of a monarch.

All of these guidelines composed an underlying code of conduct to be followed by all monarchs and heads of state to rule and govern efficiently. James assembled these directions as a result of his own experience and upbringing. He, therefore, offered the 'Basilikon Doron' ('Royal Gift') to his son, with the hope of rendering him a capable ruler, and perhaps to pass it down to future generations.

Overall, it repeats the argument for the divine right of kings, as set out in 'The True Law of Free Monarchies', which was also written by James. It warns against 'Papists' (Roman Catholics) and derides Puritans, in keeping with his philosophy of following a 'middle path', which is also reflected in the preface to the 1611 King James Bible. It also advocates removing the Apocrypha from the Bible."

King James VI/I further instructed his son and grandson:

"A good monarch must be well acquainted with his subjects, and so it would be wise to visit each of the kingdoms every three years."

"During war or armed conflict, he should choose old-but-good captains to lead an army of young and agile soldiers."

"In the court and the household, [a royal] should carefully select loyal gentlemen and servants to surround him. When the time came to choose a wife, it would be best if she were of the same religion and had a generous estate. However, she must not meddle with governmental politics, but perform her domestic duties."

"As for inheritance, to ensure stability, the kingdom should be left to the eldest son, not divided among all children."

"Lastly, it is most important...that [a royal] would know well his own craft...to properly govern over his subjects. To do so, [one] must study the laws of the kingdom, and actively participate in the council. Furthermore, [one] must be acquainted with mathematics for military purposes, and world history for foreign policy."

"[A royal] must also not drink and sleep excessively. His wardrobe should always be clean and proper, and he must never let his hair and nails grow long. In his writing and speech, he should use honest and plain language."

King James VI/I further supplemented Basilikon Doron with a written treatise titled The True Law of Free Monarchies: Or, The Reciprocal and Mutual Duty Between a Free King and His Natural Subjects.

"It is believed King James VI/I wrote the tract to set forth his idea of absolutist monarchism in clear contrast to the contractarian views espoused by, among others, James' tutor George Buchanan (in 'De Jure Regni apud Scotos'), [which] held the idea that monarchs rule in accordance of some sort of social contract with their people. James saw the divine right of kings as an extension of the apostolic succession, as both not being subjected by humanly laws."

Milton's own Areopagitica was a follow-up on De Jure Regni apid Scotos by George Buchanan, and also to The True Law of Free Monarchies, as well as the idea of the "divine right of kings". It takes its title in part from Areopagitikos (Greek: Ἀρεοπαγιτικός), a speech written by Athenian orator Isocrates in the 4th century BC.

Most importantly, Milton also wrote on the concept of free will: "Milton's ideas were ahead of his time in the sense that he anticipated the arguments of later advocates of freedom of the press by relating the concept of free will, and choice to individual expression and right."

The concept of free will, too, was a major topic explored in Paradise Lost. Per one source: "In 'Paradise Lost', Milton argues that though God foresaw the Fall of Man, he still didn't influence Adam and Eve's free will. [...] God specifically says that he gives his creatures the option to serve or disobey, as he wants obedience that is freely given [or chosen], not forced. Some critics have claimed that the God of the poem undercuts his own arguments; however, Milton did not believe in the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination' (that God has already decided who is going to Hell and who to Heaven), but he often comes close to describing a Calvinistic God. God purposefully lets Lucifer (Satan) escape Hell, and sneak past Uriel into the Garden of Eden, and basically orchestrates the whole situation so that humanity can be easily ruined by a single disobedient act. In describing the Fall of Man before it happens, God already predicts how he will remedy it, and give greater glory to himself by sending his Son [Jesus Christ] to die, and restore the order of Heaven."

In Hazbin Hotel, Adam also describes the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination', and that "the rules are black and white":

However, "This possible predestination leads to the theory of the 'fortunate fall', which is based on Adam's delight at learning of the eventual coming of the Messiah [from his bloodline]. This idea says that God allowed the Fall of Man, so that he could bring good out of it, possibly more good than would have occurred without the Fall, and be able to show his love and power through the incarnation of his Son. In this way, the free will of Adam and Eve (and Lucifer/Satan) remains basically free, but still fits into God's overarching plan."

However, there is one major flaw with this, and that is that we don't know if Jesus Christ exists within the Hazbin Hotel universe or not. Yet Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith, and the "Princess of Hell", is depicted as a savior-esque figure within the show who, like God in Paradise Lost, encourages lowly sinners to choose obedience to God out of their own free will. More interestingly, Charlie does not come from Adam's bloodline; yet, while Lucifer decries 'free will', Charlie supports 'free will' instead.

Perhaps is is merely because Charlie, being the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, claims to want to fulfill Lilith's "dream" of humanity being empowered in Hell ("The mind is its own place, it can make Heaven out of Hell, or Hell out of Heaven" - Lucifer, Paradise Lost); however, I think it also stems from Charlie having a genuine belief that 'free will', and people choosing to do good instead of evil, is "good" and "Godly".

True to Paradise Lost, this is also in fulfillment of God's plan; and, according to one fanfiction, why God allowed Charlie to be born to Lucifer and Lilith, so that sinners may be redeemed through Charlie.

For more on differing interpretations of 'free will', I suggest reading: "Free Will and the Diminishing Importance of God's Will: A Study of Paradise Lost and Supernatural" by Kimberly Batchelor (2016)

Excerpt: "'Paradise Lost' –and Milton’s purpose for writing the poem— is rooted deeply in postreformation Arminianism and this is apparent in its employment of free will. Chapter 1 argues that Milton turns to free will as a tool to justify the actions of God. Freedom of choice is God-given, and sets up a morality in which right and wrong are dictated by God. Chapter 2 shows that in 'Supernatural', free will is not given by a higher power; and, in fact, free choice functions as an act of defiance against God's will."

This raises the question: Is 'free will' given by God, using Lucifer as his vessel, in Hazbin Hotel, as in Paradise Lost? Or is 'free will' not given by a higher power; and, in fact, an act of defiance against God?

This brings us back around to our first question: Why is an apple, or 'malus', used to depict the "fruit of knowledge", especially if 'malus' means 'bad or evil', whereas Milton depicts 'free will' as God-given?

Well, for one, Lucifer still chooses to associate himself with apple symbolism and imagery, despite being skeptical of free will:

Based on the introduction to Episode 1, Charlie also views 'free will' as a gift (Miltonian), whereas Lucifer appears to view it as a curse.

However, Charlie also notes that it was through the 'gift' of free will that the "root of all evil" entered the world, for if mankind could choose to be good, then they could also choose to be evil ('malus').

John Milton states in Paradise Lost: "Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree [malus], whose mortal taste Brought Death (evil, malus) into the World, and all our woe."

Thus, the use of an apple specifically is likely a tie-in to what others have been speculating about a character that series creator Vivienne Medrano (Vivziepop) alluded to a while back: "The Root of All Evil".

However, "Roo" itself is depicted as possessing the body of a human woman, presumably Eve, the first one to eat the "fruit of knowledge":

Thus, we can discern that "Malus" likely refers to this character. (Also see: "Maleficent", a name that also uses the root word "mal", "evil".) As for Roo's intentions, if Charlie is "good" - and, if, in fact, Alastor was sent by "Roo" (Eve) - then they may want for Alastor to work on their behalf to "corrupt" Charlie, or make sure the hotel never succeeds.

This is because demonic power is tied to human souls, and there are "millions of souls" in Hell, which likely fuels the great power of "Roo". The more souls there are in Hell, the more powerful "Roo" becomes. The Overlords also get their demonic power from "millions of souls".

The deal between Eve and "Roo" might even be the first contract, or deal, between a human soul and a demonic entity; in exchange for 'free will', and the knowledge of good and evil, Eve allowed the "Root of All Evil" to inhabit her body, and to escape the void or prison it was confined to by Heaven (Hell?). (For one cannot be 'all-good' unless you attempt to 'eliminate' or 'ablate' evil; and, in Greek mythology, Zeus imprisoned the Titans in Tartarus for all of their evil deeds.)

Another possibility, brought up in an article by Gillian Osborne, is that Lucifer sees the "fruit of knowledge" as an apple, but it may appear as different fruits to different people, depending on how they view it. This also fits with Lucifer and angels being able to easily shapeshift.

In Paradise Lost, only Lucifer describes the fruit as an "apple" (malus), as he associates malus with "bad, evil", while the narrator also describes the fruit as "a mix of different colors" and peach-like. This then begs the question: "Did the fruit of knowledge of good and evil become 'evil' because Eve harbored resentment towards Adam?"

Quote: "Lucifer (Satan) gives Eve yet another hint that this tree may be more complicated than he wishes her to believe: although elsewhere in Milton's poem Eden is heady with its own newness, sprouting spring flowers left and right, the tree of knowledge is already old: its trunk is 'mossie'. Nevertheless, Lucifer claims to wind himself around the tree 'soon'; the quickness of his reported arrival stands in contrast to the timescales required to cover a fruit tree with moss (PL 9.589). Placing Lucifer's winding body between these two timescales—an easeful present and the inhuman scale of natural history—Milton suggests that there is something dangerous in entangling the past with the present. Yet, 'Paradise Lost' also makes deep biblical history feel like present politics for its readers. When Adam and Eve wander out of Eden at the end of the poem, they famously make their way not only into an earthly paradise, but also into the present. Eden's mossy apple tree therefore represents the pitfalls of conflating nature and history, of seeing any action in human history—even Eve's eating of an apple—as natural, if by nature, we mean inevitability. For Milton, history, unlike nature, is directed by humans, progressive, and, like the reading of 'Paradise Lost', hard work. While trees may inevitably collect moss the longer they live, Adam and Eve's labors in the garden, and our labors of reading, require agency and effort. Milton's poem refuses mourning the loss of Eden, [and the perfection of Heaven], in favor of a perpetual, melancholic, recreation of paradise: a present perfecting."

To quote Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, which also draws inspiration from John Milton's Paradise Lost: "It's an unfortunate situation...but you do have a choice [i.e. free will]."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin #hazbin analysis #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin meta #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory #deep thoughts #john milton #paradise lost #eve hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #adam hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #roo hazbin hotel #root of all evil

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f3ath3rflam3 · 3 months ago

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All about me :]

I really needa make more online friends, so I'm making this post to tell you about myself!

My name is Sophia (nicknames include LoaphADeSoph, SofaDofaLoafaBread, Soap, Loaph, Soph, etc, I don't mind being referred to as just f3ath3rflam3 or smth)

I'm a minor (I'll avoid saying the exact age to keep any creepos from targeting me or hitting on me cuz EWW. If any p3dos stumble across this post kindly go fuck yourself <3)

My birthday is May 24

I have a Cancer Moon and Scorpio Rising (my zodiac is Gemini)

I use she/her and they/them pronouns (gender identity is genderfae)

I am a lesbian and am looking for other WLW friends (though anyone is welcome!)

I LOVE forests and nature and all that, I think they're so cool and interesting and just generally aesthetically pleasing

I have watched a LOT of shows, including Star VS. the Forces of Evil, Gravity Falls, Dead End: Paranormal Park, The Owl House, Amphibia, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, The Secrets of Sulphur Springs, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, Maya and the Three, Adventure Time, Hilda, The Dragon Prince, Bee and Puppycat, The Amazing World of Gumball, The Regular Show, Sweet Tooth, Arcane: League of Legends, Stranger Things, The Amazing Digital Circus, Murder Drones, Locke and Key, The Gaslight District, and lots I don't remember at the moment (bonus points if you know everything).

My favourite colours are moss green and witchy purple (iykyk)

I practice eclectic witchcraft, meaning I don't stick to just practising one witchy religion and incorporate bits of all of them into my craft

The book series I like are Wings of Fire, Keeper of the Lost Cities, Throne of Glass, Shadow and Bone, Red Rising, His Dark Materials, Powerless, Witchlings, Ablaze, Warriors, Survivors, and too many others to list (long story short, I like reading)

Hobbies of mine include reading, writing, crocheting, and drawing

Interests of mine are astrology, mycology, microbiology, anthropology, mythology, dendrology, space, and the deeper, unexplored parts of the ocean.

Some of my favourite music artists are MARINA, Em Beihold, Cavetown, Neoni, AViVA, Imagine Dragons, Melanie Martinez, Hozier, Lana Del Rey, Stellar, Robert Grace, Mother Mother, Lorde, My Chemical Romance, Avicii, The Crane Wives, Madilyn Mei, adrianne lenker, Jack Harris, Matt Maeson, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Sleeping At Last, Jimmy Eat World, Bella Poarch, Fail Sake, Alex G, Martin Garrix, Faouzia, Radical Face, Noah Kahan, AJR, and The Score

My favourite 'cores are either Goblincore (BECAUSE MOSS AND MUSHROOMS NYEHEHE), Crowcore (CUZ CROWS AND RAVENS HEHEHEHE), Nostalgiacore (CUZ SILLIES), or Weirdcore (CUZ MUSHROOMS WITH EYEBALLS)

I can play the clarinet and a bit of the ukulele

I find dirty jokes funny and the rest of my humour is absolutely broken, it's been crushed to dust and sprinkled in the corners of reality

I have two cats, my lovelies: Willow, a pretty grey tabby female cat with white splotches and green eyes framed by her built-in eyeliner markings, and Noodles, a derpy male black cat with lanky ass limbs and yellow-green eyes. Willow is generally sweet and definitely the smarter of the two, and Noodles has a bottomless stomach and would break into the pantry so frequently we had to install baby-proofing locks to keep him out.

So, uhh, yeah that's me! I also have a Pinterest account, F3ATH3RFLAM3, if y'all wanna look at my boards or something, idk, and a Wattpad account, LoaphADeSoph (name prone to changes) F3ATH3RFLAM3 in case any of y'all are interested in reading my WiP books

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queen-rainy-love · 4 months ago

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Cookie of the Week: White Lily Cookie

This Cookie of the Week is...

Cookie name: White Lily Cookie

Pronouns: She/Her

Rarity: Ancient

Position: Middle

Type: Bomber

Lore: White Lily is one of the five Ancient Heroes and wields the Soul Jams of Freedom. She is a treasured friend of Pure Vanilla (since their academy days) and is an honored figure in the Faerie Kingdom. Before the Dark Flour War started, White Lily traveled to the Witch's Banquet to learn why Cookies were made. However, after falling into the Ultimate Dough, White Lily was split into two Cookies: White Lily and Dark Enchantress. White Lily’s spirit half wandered Earthbread while her body was in the Faerie Kingdom. White Lily is now awake and is the Guardian of the Seal.

Personality: White Lily is a soft-spoken and thoughtful Cookie who is also resolute in her ideals. She also possesses a strong desire to help and enlighten others, even to the point where her safety is put in danger. During her school years, she was noted to be an academically intelligent student, having the highest test grades of her peers. Due to this, she would skip class to do her personal research because she felt that she learned too little in the classes. White Lily is full of curiosity and will not stop in the pursuit of answers. (This is the case with the subject of the creation of Cookies.) This has led to her crossing moral boundaries irresponsibly. When she remembered what she had done in the present, White Lily realized the immense pain her actions had brought (viewing herself as unforgivable). She continues to shoulder the responsibilities granted to her while seeing her efforts to save the world from evil as the only means to atone for her mistakes.

Skills: White Lily's Skill is called Lily Bud. This skill has a pure white lily bud burst open and deals periodic damage to the enemies. It also adds additional damage based on the number of buffs White Lily has on herself. Enemies affected by the skill will become entangled in Vines, becoming unable to move or use skills. Whenever an ally gains a debuff, she will gain the Lily Restoration buff (activates when she uses her skill). Once this buff hits a certain number of stacks, all current debuffs on allies get dispelled and they get healed. White Lily is immune to both Spore Dispersal and Mushroom Mutation effects.

Costumes: White Lily has (technically) two costumes: Moonflower Faerie and Mystic Gold: Moonflower Faerie. Both can be obtained at any point in the game (one is only obtained in the market section after obtaining the other), only the Moonflower Faerie is part of a costume set (Midsummer Night’s Tragicomedy), and both have special effects.

Cookie Decor: White Lily does have a Cookie Decor called Faerie Glass Coffin. Kinda mess up…but I like it.

Thoughts: She’s finally home and I want to see more stories with her and Pure Vanilla.

#cookie run kingdom #cookie of the week #white lily cookie

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sawyerconfort · 2 years ago

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eyes on fire | lottie matthews x fem!reader

I said two posts in a row and I DID IT!

Enjoy, Yellowjackets fandom!

Thanks for the likes and follows, by the way!

Requests open! Send me an ask if you want to! (I normally don't take requests from messages, sorry!)

Masterlist for these ladies coming soon!

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Prompt: After Misty's disastrous Doomcoming, some things between you and Lottie need to be straightened out. But she still doesn't seem truly regretful about what happened at the party, and it might be too late to run away now…

WARNINGS: smut, sub!reader, dom!lottie, mentions of possession and cannibalism, post-fight sex, make-up sex, +18 (not really but be careful), mentions of platonic natalie x reader, lottie being bratty, lottie swearing and being a hot gay mess.

***

The morning after the party started off wildly. The mood was not at all favorable and there seemed to be tension between the girls in general, not to mention poor Javi who had mysteriously disappeared the night before, leaving his brother a nervous wreck.

A fight between your friends was what you least needed right now. Months had already passed, you had already gotten used to life after the plane crash - another absurd thing that you never imagined you would be a part of - and everything seemed to be settling into place even though you had to deal with the chaotic life in the forest on your own.

It was a daily struggle to survive, and you were doing pretty well. You were confident that you could handle it until someone came to rescue you. Eating deer and bear meat wasn't even that bad.

Except for last night, you were sure you were going to die.

And maybe you'd prefer it now, if you knew you were going to have to face your teammates fighting.

You had no idea how the argument had started, because you weren't in the cabin. You knew Misty had something to do with it and that she was talking about last night's party. A few girls were arguing about being possessed by something - like Jackie and Shauna, screaming for no reason a few steps away from you.

But you visibly remembered one thing.

Lottie Matthews. Lottie Matthews going wild.

By the way, you didn't know where Lottie Matthews is now. And you didn't want to know either, because the sound of her evil laugh as you spouted off the truths about the madness she and her friends were about to pull off with Travis still echoed in your messy, confused mind.

Just trying to escape Jackie and Shauna's fight, for fear of getting in the middle of it without even having a clue why, you decided that maybe you'd better get going, talk to Natalie, at least, because she wasn't affected by the "Misty's Mushrooms", had helped you confront Lottie and was not part of the forest brawler's party.

"You stay there", that voice startled you, and you turned around to face those small, dark eyes again, beyond the face that seemed to glow with the sun hitting her skin. Lottie was beautiful, yes, that was nothing new, but at that moment, she looked even more so. It was as if the wilderness had given her ethereal beauty as a gift for the follies she had decided to lead last night.

She seemed much calmer, and probably, like the others, she had already recovered from the hallucinogenic effects of the mushrooms.

"Lottie," you whispered, just trying not to remember how scared you were of her for a moment.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry if that scared you, I couldn't control it."

She knew. How could she know?

"Are you going to let me apologize for sounding like a crazy cannibal last night?", she asked, in the same tone, leaving you in a tight spot, not knowing what to answer.

You sighed.

"So you remember what I told you yesterday?"

She nodded. "Every word. And I'm sincerely sorry, (Y\N), I'm so, so sorry."

You knew you couldn't faithfully believe what she was saying. Something in her tone betrayed that she wasn't really sorry after all. And worse, something told you that she hadn't really been high last night.

Something inside you insisted it was all real. Some kind of possession.

And it wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened to Lottie. When Jackie had contrived to have a séance your first few days in the woods after the plane crash, she also had been possessed by something bad, something that wasn't quite her.

And you were there. The glass wound on her forehead? It could have caused some kind of hemorrhaging if you hadn't been there to heal it beforehand.

"Why would you guys eat Travis? Why him?"

She looked at you with a smirk, and then raised her eyebrow. The next words that came out of Lottie were unbelievable, and you wouldn't believe it if it weren't for her speaking, in front of you.

"We weren't. Who told you that bullshit?"

"Nobody. Didn't have to. I saw it with my own eyes…", you snapped, and then, the whole thing went through your head in a flash. You couldn't believe you were being so nice and genuinely caring while she was trying to trick you. "You don't remember that part then?"

"I remember everything, sweetheart. I remember everything anyway. Including how you trusted Natalie and started insulting me like I was a fucking danger to you."

Oh, Natalie. You knew Lottie adored her anyway. Except when she was around you. For some reason, your friendship with the blonde girl bothered her to an absurd degree.

"Natalie was right. And I was trying to help you," you replied, voice shut. Obviously, Lottie made a face and slowly approached you, step by step.

She didn't give the evil, sneering laugh this time, but simply grabbed your waist and pulled you so hard against her that more memories of last night flooded your mind. Memories of her words, frightening, strange, affected by whatever was happening to her there.

"The wilderness chose this, (Y\N). It wants you and me, together. It's watching us. And it knows how much I want you all to myself."

Her eyes weren't different, so it couldn't be possession, one way or another. Lottie brushed a strand of hair out of your face with one hand as she held you with the other, lightly biting her lip.

"If you really wanted to help me, you would have turned yourself in when I told you to," she breathed, whispering in your ear. "But you resisted, like the mean, pathetic little girl you are."

"Lottie, you need help. You're getting so worked up about all this, you're not making sense."

"I don't need help," she breathed into your ear again. "I need you, only you."

"Lottie, we can't…"

She laughed, softly, and then shook her head. "We can, there's no one else holding us back, we're on our own. We can do whatever we want here, and we can please the wilderness if we do the right thing, if we follow our instincts…"

You didn't have time to respond, and she wouldn't let you have time to respond either, if it was on normal days. Lottie always looked forward to being in your presence, you could feel the hard-on exploding as she looked at you, all the desire she'd always repressed so badly now written all over her face as she kissed you, taking your face in both hands.

"You have no idea how long I've been holding back to do this…", she murmured, trailing kisses lightly down your cheek, then down to your chin. "I always wanted you so much, (Y\N), but I was the perfect girl. If my parents knew, I would stop being that way, and it would be so hard to adapt to a life where I wasn't like that…"

You sighed with relief, relieved now because you knew you didn't have to voice your feelings out loud. Lottie felt the same way. Lottie knew you felt the same way. If the wilderness had really come to life somehow, if this whole wilderness thing that chooses people's fates was even real, the wilderness would tell Lottie how much you reciprocated her feelings.

Still, it wasn't one hundred percent safe for you to confess like that, all of a sudden.

"Come with me, we should go somewhere more… private…"

You laughed as she pulled away, squeezed your hand in hers, and led you back to the cabin. "Uh, Lottie, we're not in New Jersey, we don't have a motel or anything like that here, remember?"

Lottie's eyes widened, as if her domineering persona had given way to the ordinary person you better know. She cleared her throat and shrugged with a wry smile.

"Okay, so, uh… at least let me take you to the cabin?"

"With pleasure…", you whispered, still enjoying her failed attempt at looking sexy, even though in the first few moments, it worked for you.

***

She shouldn't have, and she didn't let it go. When you reached the top floor of the cabin, Lottie threw you to the ground and your back - by a divine miracle - narrowly missed hitting the ground. She crawled your body like a lioness walks to hunt carefree prey and went back to kissing you, pressing her body more and more on top of yours.

Lottie's kisses were different from the kisses you imagined she would have. Of course, she probably still wasn't in her right mind, and the way she showed her love for you at that moment was anything but wholesome and caring. And, to be honest, neither you nor your body minded that much.

Your body was about to set the whole cabin on fire with the heat it gave off, and you were about to break into a sweat when Lottie started to put her fingers under your shirt, practically pushing her face into your neck. Bites, hickeys, nibbles, sucking, she was determined to do it all, and you couldn't even complain.

"Is this satisfying you? Am I doing everything right, babe? Hm?", she whispered, after a while, panting. Her face was red, her nose was glowing like a firefly at the tip, and you could tell she looked like she was sweating too.

You nodded, and you had the faint impression that your inner desire took hold of your body for a moment as you said, "More, Lottie. I want more."

She smiled, and nodded too. "You look even hotter when you ask like that, you know? I can't believe I never got the chance to touch you and hear those words come out of your mouth…"

She continued to roam your body underneath the shirt you were wearing. Her fingers really had something unearthly about them, charged with shock and electricity, feeling like when you've been hurt and need to press ice into the warm spot of the wound to make it heal faster.

And then she finally lowered her face and wriggled her body between your legs, and if you weren't already moaning before, now you'll start hearing them loud and clear. So loud that you had to make a mental note to lower your voice. Lottie tugged down your sweatpants with enormous ease, and you tugged at her white dress, trying to reciprocate. Now you were the one apparently not making sense.

Lowering your panties slightly, Lottie introduced the first finger, and the shock in your body was immediate. You moaned even louder as she explored, attentive, seemingly oblivious to what was going on. Of course, she wasn't. She was just pretending so you wouldn't feel ashamed of giving yourself all to her at once.

"Hm… Lottie…", you called her, whispering, breathless.

"Yes, (Y\N)?"

"Just keep going…"

She laughed and continued, obeying you, introducing two, three more fingers. All of this was driving you crazy, and she was starting to lose character, moaning in satisfaction that you were responding to her touch that way.

"Fuck, Lottie…", you laughed, sighing. "Fucking hell."

"That's it. That's my good girl… all given to me."

You guys had sex for a while longer, her going slowly as you seemed to get your fill. And it was so magical, the moment you came in her arms, the moment you could breathe a sigh of relief because you were feeling fresh again.

She hugged and held you, even with the cold outside, the breeze coming in and penetrating your naked bodies, making you shiver even more - if that wasn't just Lottie's effect on your body -. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, and you buried your flushed red face in her neck, laughing.

"Like I said, we have no way out. The wilderness chose…", she murmured. "And it's proud of us. Of you especially."

"Oh no, Lottie. I refuse to have to listen to your magical conversations and wild witchcraft with the wilderness, especially after we literally had sex on the cabin floor!"

She giggled and nodded, purring as she rubbed her face against your bare chest.

"Sorry, (Y\N), sorry. I promise not to do that again."

"Okay, I'll forgive you. It was sexy, by the way."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, then, I guess the wilderness is kind of asking us to try again, round two maybe, what do you think, hm?"

#lgbt #romance #oneshot #imagine #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #courtney eaton #courtney eaton x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #smut #lottie is general is hot thank you for your attention #young lottie is so hot i wish she was topping me #sorry i'm still terrible at writing smuts #hope you enjoyed it at least

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