#anyway I will be watching scream vi but I will not be happy about it

[judesstfrancis]

there's another rant in me building about scream 2022 since the new one comes out next month and I don't have the whole thing formulated just yet but the tldr of it all is it's super crazy to me how scream is a series about switching up the script in horror films and making something actually NEW bc I wanna say probably post halloween is when the trend started but they fell into a trap of making the same movie with the same tropes over and over and over etc etc and YET and yet the movie they made was kind of an exact copy of 1996. the whole scream series was building on the meta idea of Hey Isn't This Fucked Up We Shouldn't Do That and instead of continuing it they said hey what if we just remade 1996 but it was bad this time

[brooooswriting]

A very timid Hello from your best customer broko loco anyway hi I'm out of my request block anyway

How about some hurt/comfort with our baby gurl

Tara Carpenter

I had two prompts in mind either Tara having a nightmare about Gf killing R Orrrrrrr It was her killing R (

SPOILER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN SREAM VI YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

(because she killed Ethan so her subconscious is making her see herself killing R) so R comforts her and reassures her

or

R getting into a fight when she was taking a stroll with Tara and Sam because some 4ssh0l3$ called our Fav duo murderers so Tara is patching up R afterwards

or

R taking care of T after the 2nd massacre like bringing her thing (painkillers, snacks, food, cuddles)

Those were my ideas but you can also do whatever you want Idm

Have a good day broko loco <3

Motherfucker

Tara Carpenter x reader

A/n: so I haven’t really been writing lately and I need to get back into it so yeah

“It’s just so much you know” Tara complained as you two and Sam walked around New York City. It was a small tradition you build up as soon as you moved here. You walked around to figure out the best ways through the city, it made Sam feel safer while you and Tara just liked to walk around. Her hand was slipped into yours, fingers carefully intervened.

Tara loved complaining about college during these walks, you loved listening to her and Sam would do anything for her little sister. There were a lot of people who didn’t recognized you guys but some did. Nobody ever said something, you were unsure of wether it was because of sams killer glare or just their common sense but you were happy about it.

You knew them during the attacks in woodsboro but you weren’t with them. At least not until the end, you and Tara kept your little flirt private which was why you weren’t attacked. You only arrived when everybody else was dead, you were at the party and you forgot your phone which was why you turned around. The way Tara broke down into your arms made you believe everything she told you, there was no way that she faked that.

“I know, but you’ll be fine. You’re a fighter through and through and something like college won’t bring you down” you told her, squeezing her hand for good measure. “She’s right, you’re gonna do great” Sam added smiling at her sister before checking the street over her shoulder.

You walked through a small park where a group of three boys, around 22, sat and watched the three of you. You watched them suspiciously, slipping your hand out of Tara’s and instead slipping your arm around her waist to pull her closer. Tara smiled up at you, unaware of the situation while Sam looked out for a man around the corner. You listened carefully, hoping to hear any kind of movement but it was quite for a moment.

“Look, that’s the murderer and her slut sister. I knew I recognized them from somewhere” one of the boys said causing you to slow down. “Fucking murderer. Both of them. They should have ended dead” another one added which made you stop. “I’d still fuck the slut tho” the third one said which finally made you snap. You turned on your heel and stalked over to the group. “What did you just say?!” You nearly screamed out on your way, Tara still standing at the same spot completely confused while Sam had a stare down with the man around the corner.

“What’s your problem huh?” You asked again, stepping up to the one who said he’d fuck Tara. “I could ask you the same thing, why don’t you go away with your two murderer friends?” He asked puffing out his chest, trying to scare you. At every other time you’d probably been scared but not now, now all you could feel was rage. “Say that again and watch what happens asshole” you dared. “They are murderer” the one next to him said. You were quick to punch him straight in the face, his nose immediately started bleeding and his eye started to swell. The one you talked to before drew his arm back but you were quick enough to dodge it, not seeing the third one make his way towards you, his fist landing in your stomach causing you to groan. You turned as quick as you could, your fist landing in his stomach this time before you turned and kicked the other one to the ground.

By now Sam was done with her stare down and finally noticed your fight, “fuck y/n” she mumbled and went to your help but Tara held her back. “She will kill you if you go there, she’s fighting because they called you a murderer and if you hit them it will be contra productive” she explained, it pained her to see you like this but she knew you were strong and she didn’t want Sam to suffer even more.

It took you five more minutes before they finally gave up, your face and hands were bruised and you were spitting blood but you won. “Gosh, you’re so stupid” Tara mumbled as she ran up to you and hugged you, pulling you close to her which caused you to wince. “Are you alright?” Sam asked as she walked closer, wrapping an arm around you shoulder. “M fine. Thanks. Can we maybe go back?” Both of them nodded and turned around to walk back to your apartment.

This time Tara wasn’t holding your hand, she was scared that she’d hurt you. The nervousness and the guilt was radiating off of her, so you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her into you which made her calm down. Sam was also somewhere else with her mind but you knew that something like a hug wouldn’t fix that and you knew she wasn’t going to talk about it in front of Tara so you decided to ask her about it later.

When you arrived home Tara immediately ran to the bathroom to get some things for your knuckles, giving you a moment with Sam. “You alright?” You asked her quietly so T wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah, it’s just that… thank you y/n. You protected us and you stood up for us. It was the nicest thing anyone ever did for us so, thanks” she answered squeezing your shoulder before disappeared into her room.

“I got everything that may be helpful. Like gauze, disinfectant, bandaids and some other stuff” she told you, quickly pulling everything out and cleaning your wounds on your hand. You kissed when the disinfectant started to seep into your flesh. The brunette quickly apologized before putting on the band aids.

When your hand was finally cleaned she moved on to your face, focusing on the wound above your eye. This time she warned you before putting on the disinfectant, which made it a bit less worse. You couldn’t help but admire her focused face, the way she bit her tongue and how her brows furrowed. It nearly made you forget about your headache.

“Do you need anything else? I’ll give you some painkillers as soon as you’re in bed and some snacks too” she told you and you smiled before pulling her closer to plant a small kiss on her lips. “Thank you” you said before kissing her another time and another, distracting her from her work.

“Stop, I gotta clean the rest of your wounds and I wanna take a look at your stomach” she giggled when she finally convinced herself to pull away. “And you taste like blood” she added. You smiled sheepishly and kissed her one last time before pulling back.

She sat on your lap as she looked at the cut you had on your lip, her legs on either side of you as she titled your head down to get a better angle. “This Looks okay I guess” she mumbled to herself as her fingers carefully touched the wound. You were getting bored and started to play with the hem of her shirt.

When she was done with your face she moved on to your stomach, there wasn’t really anything she could do about it. It was a bit bruised but there werent any cuts nor any placed that were so sensitive that she should be worried.

You both got changed and laid in bed, Tara made you swallow some painkillers and gave you some of your favorite chips before letting you decide what to watch. She made sure that you iced your hand and your nose, even if it might not be comfortable. She knew that you didn’t like the cold but there was nothing she could do. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Her voice was soft and still filled with guilt which made you hurt inside.

“T, you know that I did it on my own account right? It’s not your fault or anything. I decided to do what I did” you said as you cuddled closer to her. Her body melting into your which made you melt too. “And even more important, I’d do it again and again because nothing is as important to me as you are” you added and kissed her head.

“I love you, a lot. Not just because of what you did today obviously” she grinned and titled her head up motioning for you to give her a kiss which you did.

“I love you too baby” you grinned as your hand rubbed up and down her back.

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Hi! Can you write an Ethan Landry thing where reader gets attacked like Tara in Scream Five by Quinn in the apartment scene (she’s the ghostface that scene not Ethan) after he basically begged her not to attack reader of all people. Thank you :)

thank you for requesting! i really enjoy writing for ethan ngl

Not them

pairing: ethan landry x gn!reader

summary: you get attacked by ghostface, even though, you weren't supposed to be.

warnings: gore, blood, knife violence, attempted murder, fluff, manipulation, some scream vi spoilers.

since no gender had been specified, i will be doing gender neutral reader. plus, no pronouns specified in this anyway. Also I’m sorry if it’s short I’m trying to be as fast as possible

Ordinary evening by yourself. Most of your friends were out partying. Even your crush, Ethan joined them. You could've confessed your feelings but you didn't feel like going.

You could smell your popcorn so you place popcorn in a bowl. You planned on binge watching movies. Not any specific genres. You hum grabbing a can of soda and candy.

Placing your snacks in your living room, You were kind of happy living on your own, instead of getting someone to roommate with. Suddenly, Your Phone rings. You sigh, hoping one of your friends needed a ride.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Y/N. You missed me?"

You had hoped this was some joke but you kind of knew this wasn't. So, you reply nervously,"No."

"You should, I missed you."

You clutch your phone. "What do you want?"

"A game, of course."

You frown. You didn't like his idea of a "game". But you couldn't die now.

"Fine."

"Good, would've been a shame if you made your friends die."

You couldn't believe this was happening, again. "Okay, You simply said.

"Main Character in the Stab Franchise?"

"Um... Sidney Prescott, though she wasn't in Stab 7."

"Correct, You're doing good Y/N."

"Oh Please, anyone knows that."

“You’re right about that. Who is the killer in Stab 1?”

“Easy. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.”

“You’re doing so well. You may make it out alive.”

“That would be nice.”

“Too bad you’re going to have to die.”

You were so confused and you open your door to find Ghostface who quickly stabbed you right in your abdomen so you were certain you weren’t going to make it.

Ghostface didn’t stop there as he continued following you and stabbing you wherever possible. You were sobbing as you fell on the floor and could feel ghostface drag you by your legs closer so he could kill you.

“I got it right! You sobbed. “Doesn’t matter, Ghostface replies, pulling your hair so your head was up in his grasp.”i want to see what your insides look like.”

You don’t remember much as you passed out to the noise of stabbing which meant you were going to die. That was it. You were officially dead right?

When you woke up, you saw your best friend Ethan, he held you close as he says,”You’re going to be okay, y/n. Ambulance is coming.”

“What.. happened? You say. “Well I found you here, He lied and you knew he was lying but simply hugged as you could in your condition.

It was oddly suspicious that he was even here to begin with but you didn’t care as you were taken away to the hospital.

Ethan roughly hit his sister’s shoulder. “Ow! What did you do that for? Quinn said coming from behind. “For attacking Y/N, He hissed.”I begged you not to, remember?”

“Well it was fun, Quinn smirked.”And besides, it’s all apart of Dad’s Plan. Wait until you see.” Ethan hoped this plan would be worth it. He really did.

[y3nze1]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.5

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Tw! Mention of Blood, Cuts, Gun and Violence! Interact at your own risk, darlings! anyways, short continuation chapter. Fic based on This! happy readings my darlings!

You stood, staring by the balcony, scratching your forehead softly, sighing to yourself as you wonder what you got yourself into. you stared up the sky, watching the clouds clump by, surrounding the moon as it shimmers down you.

You stood at the balcony, staring up at the moon as it graced the clear night sky. You felt a sense of calm wash over you, like everything was okay for the moment. A gentle breeze blew past you and you took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, crisp night air.

'If there's a prize for rotten judgement

I guess I've already won that

No man is worth the aggravation

That's ancient history, been there, done that!'

But despite the serene environment around you, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of uncertainty.

You began to wonder if you actually had feelings for Alastor or if it was just a passing fancy. The thought of possibly being in love with someone so powerful and intimidating both thrilled and scared you.

'Who'd'ya think you're kiddin'

He's the Earth and heaven to you

Try to keep it hidden

Honey, we can see right through you

Girl, ya can't conceal it

We know how ya feel and

Who you're thinking of'

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of your own emotions bearing down on you. You wished you had someone to talk to about this, someone who could help you sort out your feelings. But who could you turn to? And what would they think of you if they knew how you felt?

'No chance, no way

I won't say it, no, no'

Despite these thoughts, you couldn't help but smile as you watched the moon glow brighter against the dark sky. It was a reminder of the beauty and mystery of the world, and it made you feel a sense of wonder and possibility.

'It's too cliche

I won't say I'm in love'

"damn it!" you bang your fist on the railings, "damn you.." you run your hand through your hair, sighing softly. "damn me.." you turned around, your back facing railings slowly breaking down, sitting on the cold tile. "damn you daisy.." chuckling, you leaned back, sighing.

As you sat on the cold tile, you felt a sense of melancholy wash over you. The thoughts of Alastor and your feelings for him kept creeping into your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and confusion. You rested your head against the cool stone of the balcony, letting out a deep sigh.

'I thought my heart had learned its lesson

It feels so good when you start out

My head is screaming get a grip, girl

Unless you're dying to cry your heart out

Oh'

Despite the pain, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. The cold tile felt soothing against your skin, and the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees below seemed to calm your racing thoughts.

'You keep on denying

Who you are and how you're feeling

Baby, we're not buying

Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling

Face it like a grown-up

When ya gonna own up

That ya got, got, got it bad'

You close your eyes and let out a long, deep breath, trying to clear your mind of all the noise. For a moment, you felt like everything was going to be okay. That you could figure this out and come out on the other side.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a sense of serenity wash over you. It was as if the world around you was slowly coming back into focus, and you felt a sense of hope and possibility for the first time in what felt like forever.

'No chance, now way

I won't say it, no, no'

you clutched your chest, slowly feeling flustered at the thought of him, his smile, his soft voice, his cute goddamn laugh. you curled into a ball, internally screaming at you picture him in every way.

'Give up, give in

Check the grin you're in love'

You sat there, lost in your thoughts, thinking about Alastor's smile, his soft voice, his cute laugh. You felt a sense of love and desire wash over you, and you clutched your chest, feeling your heart racing.

'This scene won't play,

I won't say I'm in love'

You thought about all the times you had spent together and how he had made you feel. You remembered the way he looked at you, how he had always made you feel loved and special. You thought about the times he had supported you and been there for you, how he made you laugh and feel alive. you shook your head, cupping your cheeks as you formed a small smile.

'You're doin flips read our lips

You're in love

You're way off base

I won't say it

Get off my case

I won't say it

Girl, don't be proud

It's O.K. you're in love'

You realized that you were in love with Alastor, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, and you smiled to yourself, feeling happy and content for the first time in a long time.

'Oh

At least out loud,

I won't say I'm in love'

you stood up looking into the light of the city, blushing immensely as you stared into the busy streets. scratching your forehead once again, you decided to sleep the feeling off, you headed for your room, laying down on the soft mattress as you fiddled your hair softly. you closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep.

ೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭

"Alastor, my guy, come on.. d-don't be like that. we can work it out some way" the man cowered, backing away as he dragged his cut arm from the cold concrete, blood trailing on the ground as he grit his teeth in pain, eyes staring up at alastor with fear.

"I've been patient enough, pal. I don't like it when someone-" he swung his knife, cutting through the man's leg as the guy writhed in pain. "provokes.. me.."

Alastor's expression darkened as he watched the man writhe in pain. He held the knife firmly in his hand, not even blinking as he looked down at the man, still backed against the wall. "Now you see," he said coldly, letting his words hang in the air as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "That's what happens to people like you."

"you are given the privilege of.. someone's goodness" he kicked the man face, keeping the same sinister smile on. "you take that kindness.." he gripped the man's hair, smashing it onto the wall. "and. you. abuse. IT" with every word, he slammed, watching the blood trickle down the man's forehead.

"alastor.. p-please i-i told you I'd pay.. give me some more time.. i-i promise.." the man stuttered, "you said that six months ago." alastor grits his teeth, pulling out a gun from his pocket. pointing at the guy's forehead.

"send my regards to the devil." he laughed. the bullet bursting through the man's skull, parts of his brain spewing out as the blood drains out from his head, his body going limp, parts of his fingers still moving yet his eyes were in an upward gaze. skin pale like flour.

Alastor remained sat back in his chair, the light from the candles casting his shadow over the blood-stained walls. He lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag, his eyes on the limp body lying on the ground. He took another drag, then tossed the cigarette onto the body, watching as it smoldered and died out.

His eyes closed as he let out a deep breath, his head lowering from the weight of the world around him. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen in place, and he was the only living thing in that moment.

After a few more minutes, he opened his eyes, and with a heavy sigh, he stood from his chair, walking towards the body and kneeling down next to it. He looked at the gun in his hand, and with a slight shake of his head, he placed it on the table beside the candles, the shadows cast by the dancing flames illuminating his features.

He closed his eyes and held his hands over the body, his palms slightly angled towards the light. he hummed. His voice is soft, yet powerful, holding a strange and alluring quality to it, as though it was the voice of the universe itself..

[baby-alien11]

Dinner with the Ulrich family (Y/N Ulrich universe)

My requests are open btw (unfortunately for many of you, I won't write smut for Jack for the simple fact that I'm three soon to be four years older than him and I would be uncomfortable writting that for him, there are enough people sexualising him on tik tok which is wrong because he turned eighteen like a few months ago)

taglist: @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @aonungsgirlfriend @ethanlandryluver

Lately, things have been bussy in Jack's life because of the new fame he gainned for Avatar and Scream VI, making him a little tired because of the interviews and next projects to film, so in a week when he didn't had any compromises he decided to spend a day with you in your house (of course after going to the gym), and Butters was also there

During most part of the day, the two of you spend time in your room watching movies and sleeping, with Butters and baby dragon Jake between you to, the only times when both of you leave the bedroom was to go to the bathroom or to eat when Skeet called you

That was until the middle of "Hamilton", when Skeet openned the door, with the sight of the two of you laying in your bed with Butters sleeping in one of your pillows

"Kids, time to get up", Skeet said turning the lights on, "Dinner's ready"

"Can we go when we reach the final of the first act?", you asked with sweetness, "It's only one song left"

"You can finish it later", Skeet responded, "Come on, the food is going to get cold"

Sighing in defeat, you and Jack got up from your bed to walk downstairs with Butters following close

At first you only were expecting a small dinner between you, your dad, Jack (and Butters), so you were surprised and happy to see two blond heads in the dinning room

"What are you doing here?", you smiled hugging your older siblings

"Dad said he needed help with the two tornados in his house", Naiia joked

"The champ!", Jakob exclaimed hugging Jack

"Hey man", Jack answered with a smile

After setting the table with the plates and drinks for everyone and serving Butters food, the five of you sit at the table to eat the chinese food that the twins had bought

"So, how was everyones day?", Jakob asked

"Surprisingly, chill", Skeet responded causing you and Jack to look at him with offense

"Wait, the two tornados haven't done a dissaster?", Naiia said in shock

"Today they are chill, so I got to talk with my agent about going to the MEGACON with a little Scream reunion", Skeet revealed causing big smiles on everyone

"That's awesome", Jack exclaimed

"Who's going?", you asked

"Neve, Matthew and Jamie", Skeet answered

"The OG's", Jakob joked, "So, I have a question about that, is Stu really dead?"

"Jack", you said turning to look at your boyfriend, "Ethan also had a TV falling into his head, what do you think about Stu's fate?"

"If Ethan is dead after that, also Stu", Jack shrugged

"Yeah, but Ethan was stabbed like a million times, Stu not so much", Naiia replied, "He could be alive, with scars and in a mental facility"

"Just like in the Tik Tok theories", you exclaimed

"What if we call uncle Matthew and ask him?", Skeet interrupted taking out his phone

Putting the phone on speaker, it was only a few seconds of the ringtone when he answered

"What's up Skeet?", Matthew greeted from the other side

"Hey man", Skeet greeted, "My kids want to ask you something"

"Hi, uncle Matthew", you speak due to being the "baby" of the family, "We were having a debate about the first Scream, is Stu alive?"

Instead of an answer, the only thing that was heard after the question was the sound of the call ending

"He hang up on us", Naiia pointed

"So rude", Jakob commented, "Anyways, Jack, how's everything?"

"Crazy", Jack admited with honesty, "That's the word to describe everything that is happening"

"Including the Ethan defenders?", you joked feeling how Butters jumped into your lap, "He was at econ, I know, trust me"

"That is actually fun", Jack laughed

"Believe me kid, you are going to have a lot of that", Skeet joked

"Yeah, it's not cool to see thirst traps of Billy Loomis in my for you page", Naiia murmured

"Oh my god, I thought I was the only one", you sighed

"What?", Skeet exclaimed in confusion

"It's for the scream tag", Jakob explained

"There a lot of videos dedicated to every character", Jack continued, "Including the theories, rankings and so much more"

"Welcome to Gen-Z, dad", Naiia joked

While the four of you laughed at that comment, Skeet only smiled at the sight of his four kids (including Jack) having fun

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part VII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5600 Warnings: swearing, blood, some borrowed in game dialogue, violence, nudity, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here

Summary: Set in Act III, in Cazador's Palace. Continuing from part 6, Astarion has been captured and forced into the seventh slot of the ritual. But there is more conflict then just the physical fight before him. There is still the fight between his broken mind and heart to finish.

Notes: Hi everyone! So, we made it to the big bad fight... Parts of this is based off of how my actual first playthrough went when completing this mission (my character got one shotted and died in the very first round LOL,) along with head cannons that I created months ago as soon as the fight was finished and I finished bawling my eyes out. There is descriptions and some dialogue pulled straight from these scenes, just like the previous chapter, but there is a lot of stuff that I added to read between the lines. I also created a scene for after the fight but before Astarion invites you to the graveyard, as I feel like that poor man needs time to decompress and think before all of that happens! I will include some other quick notes/comments up here, which is slightly spoilery for the chapter - but I wanted you to be aware before you read.

(1) There is a bit of "main character" energy from reader/Tav in this one. As it has been established, reader is blessed by Selûne and this factors in heavily into this chapter! It is a big set up for things to come for completing their own personal arc :)

(2) I know there is a lot of discourse about some people wishing you could hug/comfort Astarion after the fight, and others who believe it is his moment and to just let him be. I agree with both sentiments - so I wrote it in the way that I envision Astarion would be okay with aka he initiates it himself. This is my opinion and characterization for Astarion, and is something that as someone who has touch aversion would be comfortable doing myself.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter and all of the angsty, sad, happy, tender moments it holds. As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

It was like fire was in his veins, pain seeping into every nook and cranny of his body in a way he’d never known.

He would take whips and chains. Teeth and claws. Coffins buried in the ground again. Anything but this.

Astarion couldn’t help the broken scream that escaped from him, the sound echoing throughout the chamber before perhaps his last words escaped him. They were a desperate shout for you, your name shredding his vocal cords. He could barely keep his eyes open from the pain, but what he could see was the searing red that filled the entire room from the infernal magic. And blurry figures through the tears forming in his eyes — his friends gathering together defensively around you.

His mind was a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. He wanted to you to run — to know that you would at least survive this… that would be his only comfort before he died. He needed you to run. To be safe. To live.

But that selfish voice in him, the devil on his shoulder, whispered and hoped you wouldn’t. Knew you wouldn’t. That hoped maybe, somehow, you could pull through. That after fighting the chosen of gods, an undead dragon, hoards of enemies… just maybe you could defeat the vampire master. Maybe Selûne was watching, and his prayers would finally be answered all these years later in the form of you.

His heart and mind continued to fight as his body kept burning, the pulling of the red magic on his limbs stretching his muscles and bones, pulsing through every pore of his skin.

But he knew what the answer would be — regardless of what he thought, what he hoped. You said it yourself, you would do anything for him. You would die here for him, if it came to it. And at this rate it would.

He was your undoing. He knew it would come to this and yet he still fell for you. Let you fall for him. Let you kiss him and teach him, comfort and protect him. Knowing it would one day lead to something like this.

An end just as violent and bloody as he was.

Astarion had never hated himself more.

His tears broke free, sliding down his face as he silently screamed from the pain and anguish. His voice too broken for anything more than a fragmented choking sound to come out.

It happened in an instant. A flare of blue magic that cut through the scarlet light around them. Then a loud snap echoed through the cave. A teleportation spell — someone was leaving.

Or coming closer.

Then your scent, so sweet and warm washed over him. His eyes closed as he breathed it in, realizing he was must be slipping into delusion from the pain. His brain, or maybe the tadpole, offering the hallucination as a final comfort before death.

“Quickly!” A male voice hissed with urgency.

The voice broke him from his stupor. Gale? He could barely open his eyes, but he forced them open the tiniest smidge.

You were in front of him, your eyes slightly glowing from the magic everywhere as they focused just behind him. “Darling,” He mumbled in confusion, so unsure of what happened, of how you were here.

You spoke so softly to him. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He looked down to see your hands flashing with their own magic as they cut through the incantations binding him.

He felt the pressure on his ankles dissipate, his eyes flicking to you and the rest of your friends. They were shouting as they launched spells and swung their blades at the beasts and creatures under his master's control. Karlach’s scream of rage vibrated the stone floor as she cleaved through a werewolf like it was nothing.

But where was he? Where was Cazador?

And as he thought it, he appeared. His master’s red eyes piercing through Astarion as he felt the final piece of the incantation snap free, his body started to fall the few feet back to the stone ground he was hovering above.

The ancient vampire must have felt it, the spell breaking, the moment he was free. His eyes snapped to you instantly and if looks could kill… Cazador’s jaw set and his nostrils flared as he took a single step forward with his staff raised.

"Wait, no—"

And just as fast as you had appeared, Cazador was launching a powerful spell at you. Astarion screamed your name, lurching forward to shield you. But it was too late. It was as if time slowed completely as he watched you whirl around, your hair splaying as you turned to him, your eyes widening with shock. And fear.

And then you crumbled to the ground.

“Such a waste.” The ancient vampire snarled from across the dais, waving his staff as he finished the incantation.

Images flashed into Astarion’s mind of your lifeless body in his lap in the Shadowlands, the sound he had buried of your heart slowing until it stopped. You had promised back in the Shadowlands, on that tiny dock — you promised you would stay out of harms way. This wasn't happening, it was a nightmare. It should be him, not you.

No, no, no, no.

“NO!!” His words were echoed throughout the chamber as Shadowheart thrust her hands forward — a blinding, golden glow in her hands rocketing towards you, unmoving on the ground.

It struck your chest where Cazador’s dark spell had hit just mere seconds before — seeping into you, spreading across your body until it radiated with magic. Your unconscious form was raised into the air, floating with a golden outline. The tips of your silvery-white hair waving with a breeze that came out of no where. Then your eyes flashed open — but they were not their usual shade, his newfound favorite color since he met you. No, they were glowing silver, radiating authority and power as they stared at his old master.

You opened your mouth to speak as you remained floating, but it was not just your voice. A female voice that dripped with authority echoed your words, like something was speaking through you. Someone.

Gods, it couldn't be.

“Your reign of terror and abuse ends here, Cazador Szarr. I refuse to let your hate and cruelty fester any longer." You dipped your chin down, your blazing eyes narrowing as you remained locked on the ancient vampire.

Cazador cocked his head, an eyebrow raised at the spectacle of you. Astarion knew the gears were turning in his head, calculating and trying to figure out how he would turn this into an advantage. What he would get from you.

But your voice continued, the second one still joining you as you floated closer to the center dais, closer to the vampire master. "You believe yourself to be all-powerful. You believe yourself to be a blessing, a mercy to the creatures you keep at your feet. A benevolent master who can make himself a God."

Everyone in the room had stopped to watch, the ritual stopped with Astarion freed. Friend and foe both had weapons at their sides, mouths slightly agape as they tried to process what they were seeing. Who they were seeing.

There were not many beings of Faerûn who could say that they had seen a God in the flesh.

As it was Selûne who spoke through you know, who granted you this power, who had created this vision of blinding radiance in this dark, decrepit crypt.

"But what you really are… is a result, from a cycle of venom and greed and fear. And that cycle ends today.” You, she, said it so matter-of-factly. Declared so simply that it was both of your wills, so it would be so. Closing your eyes softly, your hands lifted up like you were summoning something deep within yourself.

Astarion's mouth fell open as light began to radiate out of you, silver and bright like the fullest moon on a clear night. He had become so accustomed to the talent of his friends — Shadowheart's golden light, Gale's purple and blue, Wyll's fiendish red. But this, this was something different. Pure and unfiltered power from the Goddess of the Moon. Then the light erupted, traveling so fast and loud that his elven senses twinged.

It hurled into the Vampire Master, his face mirroring yours from moments ago — filled with shock and fear. Astarion had never seen his master afraid, not in two hundred years. His steps faltered, off-kilter as he reeled from your blinding light that clung to him.

Who was the weak, pathetic boy now?

"NOW!" Your screamed, your voice returning to your own — though Selûne's power and magic still radiated off of you. Determination lined every single one of his friends' faces as they rushed forward to hurl their attacks on the Master and his creatures.

Astarion's hands were steady as his fingers unsheathed the daggers at his side, his stare deadly as he stalked towards the man who had ruined his life, broken him over and over. Cazador was trying to twirl and deflect, but the attacks kept coming as he was blinded by the light that was you. Yet, he still caught Astarion's eyes, still smiled wickedly at his spawn — even though Astarion could smell his terror and rancid blood from here.

"You are going to regret underestimating us, Cazador." He hissed as he flung his magical daggers out. They struck true, one slicing through the soft flesh of his side and the other up across his cheek.

"Agh!" The vampire's knees shook as he tumbled forward, another blast of magic hit into his back. His red eyes flickered up through his strong brow as he remained keeled over, "You don't have the balls to kill me, boy. Or did you forget that every part of you is mine?"

Astarion's nostrils flared as rage flooded through him, his vision turning red without the infernal magic surrounding them. He held his palms open as his daggers returned to them, twirling them in his hands without thought as he stepped forward once more. "You can't be owned by a dead man." He spat, before sending his daggers out once more.

"NOOO-" The ancient vampire's screams filled the crypt, bouncing off the stone floors and walls. With a poof, he turned into his infamous mist but your light clung onto him — illuminating his path as it raced for the sarcophagus nearby.

"No, no!" A deep desire for vengeance flooded Astarion as Cazador tried to escape, his voice a snarl he could barely recognize. His red eyes could focus on nothing else but his tormentor's end, his pain, his misery. He could draw it out, torment the sadistic bastard to match what he had done to him for all those years. A pounding was filling his pointed ears, the steady thump increasing as he chased after the mist. Using his vampire spawn strength he tore the top of the sarcophagus off, shoving it angrily to reveal the beaten and bleeding vampire within. "No, no! No healing sleep for you. Wake up!" He growled, grabbing him by his pretentious, soiled collar and throwing him to the ground.

Cazador weakly fought back, scrambling back onto his knees. He sneered up at his spawn looming over him, "Get your hands off me, worm!"

"I'm not the one in the dirt," Astarion spat, gripping the dagger in his hand so tightly that is already pale knuckles turned completely white. His bare chest was rising up and down, not from breath but with deep emotion. "One last thrust and I'll be free of you. I'll never have to fear you again."

The vampire spawn put on the mask he had mastered for centuries, his face a lethal calm as he suggested, "But if I finish the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone, ever."

If he did this, there would be no hiding, no running. No more fear, for either of you. He would destroy anyone and anything who would come to harm you. Who would stop him? You both could be anything you wanted, matched equals backed with powers that equaled those of the Gods.

His old master only scoffed, "You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words, and ascend in my place? The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it and those bearing the scars will be sacrificed - you included. You are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed."

"I AM SO MUCH MORE THEN WHAT YOU MADE ME!" Astarion roared, bending down more to scream in his face. He felt the intoxicating feeling of power, control flooding through him when Cazador actually flinched, "You fucking leech." His jaw was set tightly as he breathed in the scent of blood that was filling the room, desperate, primal need suddenly filling him. He was losing his focus, his bearings — what was this all for? Who was this all for?

Safety. Agency. Freedom. Power. Control. Dominance. Ascendancy.

The words were twisting darker and darker in his head as once again his broken mind and heart battled against each other. His hands started trembling as he finally looked away from the ancient vampire beneath him. Looking up to his siblings still bound by the remainders of the spell, up the stairs to the thousands of souls — real, present souls — who were trapped down here for centuries. He could feel his heart starting to climb up his throat as two separate sides of himself battled internally.

Remember who you are, Astarion.

You had said that — so softly, with such a gentle touch as you had tried to ground him. No one had ever looked at him like you did, touched him like you did. His red eyes flickered over to you, and his half-dead heart fluttered strangely. He spoke with less of a bite, the edge disappearing, "If I do this I will be free. Truly, completely free. Isn't that what you want, my love?"

Your eyes looked at him, boring into his soul like no one else had. You stepped forward, so unafraid unlike him. There was no tremble in your hands, nor shaking in your knees. You didn't even look at the vampire master cowering on the ground, the immortal male who minutes ago had killed you. No, your beautiful eyes remained only on him as you stepped forward.

Silver was still lingering in your eyes, but he realized it was not latent power from Selûne. It was tears, threatening to break free as you spoke. The saddest smile spread your lips, your brows tugging in the middle. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

When would it end? Cazador had everything, his every whim met, more riches then one could imagine, thousands of spawn under his control. Even if he had completed the ritual, the vampire bastard Cazador was already plotting his next plan for cruelty by taking you. When would it end? Would any of it had ever been enough?

Could he live with himself, if he became that? Could you?

You spoke again, your voice so soft it was a whisper, "Let the cycle end here, Astarion."

His name on your lips struck him hard. It made him feel alive again, blinking back to reality. He shook himself out of the dark daze he was descending into, "You - you're right. I can be better than him." His gaze went back down to the man below him, the stirring feelings in him resolving as his fingers closed on his dagger once more. "But I'm not above enjoying this."

Fear glimmered in Cazador's eyes as Astarion fisted his long hair and plunged his blade into his chest.

And again.

And again.

Astarion imagined every lash, every carving cut, every scream and howl.

Again.

Again.

Every tremble and gulp he pushed down in an alley or tavern or forgotten hallway. Every moment of self-loathing. Every broken thought of wishing for it all to end — for someone, somewhere to just end him already.

Again.

Again.

He was covered in blood, the sticky red liquid splattering over his bare torso, creeping up his arms, neck and face. It was not appetizing, it did not cause a frenzy.

No, only a strange satisfaction.

Like a cleansing of his body and mind. His soul.

Complete catharsis.

Cazador's body had stopped moving long ago, laying mutilated at his feet.

His magical dagger, soured with the blood of his old master clattered onto the stone floor behind him. His trembling fingers losing hold of the blade, then his knees buckled and he was kneeling on the floor. His whole body was shaking, gasps escaping him as choked sobs climbed up his throat. He could not keep it down, not after all these years. Not after centuries of suppressing it, forcing it down to not give him the satisfaction.

Hot tears fell fast down his cheeks, and the howls of anguish, triumph and rage finally escaped.

Astarion wasn't sure how long he knelt in that pool of blood for. Time had no meaning at the moment, all of his senses suddenly turned off as he cried and howled.

“It’s over.”

Your voice. You.

Fluttering his eyes open, he found you kneeling in front of him. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your own cheeks stained with tears.

“It’s over,” You whispered again. You had kept your distance — your hands resting on your thighs, as you too knelt in the blood. Not from fear of him, but to give him space. You couldn’t ask to touch him, not at this moment but you needed him to know he wasn’t alone.

Astarion launched himself at you, wrapping his arms around your body as he buried himself into your neck. His cries started all over again.

“It’s over. You’re okay. We’re okay.” You continued the comforting whispers, holding him against you — you started to rock, swaying the both of you back and forth.

He couldn’t stop the sobs escaping him — they had been building up for so long and now these they had broken free he wasn’t sure how to stop. He tried blinking away the lingering tears from the bottom of his vision, taking you in. “You, he—“ He put his stained hands on either side of your face, drinking you in in. “What did I do? What did I do?”

"He's gone. He's gone." You whispered.

Astarion pushed his forehead onto yours, mumbling incoherently, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, M'sorry..."

"Shhhh, my love." You said tenderly, your fingers caressing the nape of his neck in a comforting touch. "I've got you. I've got you."

• • •

Astarion wasn’t sure how he got back to the inn.

The journey back was a blur of healing spells, quick decisions and whispers of worry. He had stumbled back next to you, your arm wrapped around his waist holding him close to you. It was his only reassurance as the rest of the world swirled around him. He hadn’t let you ask — gluing himself to you in a silent answer before your mouth could even open. Now you both were in the group’s room in the Elfsong Tavern— the rest of your companions out for the remainder of the day. He was sure there was an exchange of looks and whispered words about him before the decision was made. He was sure that if he had been really looking he would have seen pity across all of their faces. But he didn't care to. He couldn’t really bring himself to react to anything but what had happened.

Cazador was dead. By his hands.

He was free. Yet stuck. Forever a spawn. Forever fragmented and damaged probably — if how he felt right now was any indication.

But free, nonetheless, he guessed.

You had pulled across the privacy curtains and made him a hot bath, the steam and smell of oils clouding throughout the room. Hints of magic too. Then you asked him in a gentle voice if he would like to get cleaned up, gesturing down at him. Astarion blinked as he looked down at himself and his ruined clothes. The shirt he was wrapped in wasn’t even his own — Wyll had thrusted it at him in that good gentlemanly way he was trained to do since he was a boy. The knees of his pants were shredded from the stone floor he had knelt on. And blood. So much of it. There was red splattered everywhere on him — dried and caked on by now. He wondered if the feeling of Cazador’s blood would linger like the other phantom touches and feelings that haunted his skin. Maybe he would be scrubbing at it long after it was physically cleaned off of his skin too — turning his almost pearlescent skin dark pink.

The vampire could only nod at you, lifting his arms up to attempt to pull off his shirt before wincing. Even with his immortal body and vampiric strength, he was sore. The pulling and stretching of his muscles from the binding magic would linger for a while he imagined. "Help me." He muttered weakly. You averted your gaze as you helped him peel the shirt off of him, your touch the most gentle it had ever been. Astarion was so lost in his own mind that he didn't even realize he had stepped out of his ruined pants, his blood-soaked boots moments later. He barely registered his movements as he crawled over the large wooden sides of the tub and slipped into the water.

The heat of the water instantly warmed his muscles, giving him some reprieve from the physical pain that lingered. It even lifted the fog from his mind as he sat for a moment in the water, watching the water move around him slightly - barely tinting to red before some kind of enchantment cleansed it away. As he watched the blood and dirt drift off of him, he felt the numbing going away too. The tremble in his hands returned, shaking under the water as he blinked back to reality. That feeling from down in the crypt was returning — he felt like he was back on his knees in the puddle of blood, his heart crawling up his throat, his skin hot and crawling—

His red eyes flicked up to search for you, finding you seated near him but with your back turned — trying to offer privacy but to be nearby if he needed you. Astarion’s throat closed up again as he looked at you, the comfort he so desperately wanted. It was almost overwhelming. Just weeks ago, he was trying to wrap his head around why someone would want such soft, simple touches. Why someone would just want to be held, nothing more. Now he felt his body shaking and tears forming from your absence.

“Join me,” He finally croaked out to the back of your head. His voice was a weak whisper — gods, he sounded pathetic.

You twirled in your chair, looking over your shoulder to him with furrowed brows. “Astarion, I—”

But he cut you off, your name was a choked sob from his mouth. “Please,” He begged before you could say anything else.

You immediately relented, standing up, taking off your clothes unceremoniously and sliding into the wooden tub. It was the most he had seen of your body in months, and not at all how he pictured it would go. Astarion felt your knees brush his as you sat across from him. Even just the barest touch had the crawling sensation across his skin calming. He took a steadying breath, before he finally took you in.

Only your shoulders and up could be seen in the deep wooden tub. Red blood had dried all over you, shaped like handprints— his own handprints had smeared the blood that crusted over your soft skin and stained your silvery-white hair. A pang shot through him. “Look what I’ve done—” His wet hands cupped the side of your face, echoing the action that probably put the stains there in the first place. Guilt flooded through him.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You laid your cheek flush into his hands on your face. Then you turned your mouth, pressing your lips to his palm gently. Kissing his hands like they weren’t capable of monstrous, violent things. Like they hadn’t been covered in blood moments ago. “Are you?”

He stroked his pale thumb across your cheek before withdrawing it. Instead he searched for your own hand under the water, intertwining his fingers with yours. He kept his eyes on the water, shifting slightly back and forth — thinking quietly. “I don’t— I’m not sure how to answer that, right now.”

“Take your time, my love.” You said softly, squeezing his fingers. Astarion was thankful for your calming presence, but he needed more. He knew once you longed to just hold his hand, and it was a terrifying thought. But now he needed to be wrapped up in you, held so tight he would forget where he ended and where you started. In the small space of the tub, he barely had to move before he was pressed against you. His head in the crook of your neck, his nose pressed into your soft skin, inhaling your addicting scent. His arms around your waist as he held on to you for dear life. Within an instant you had your arms wrapped around him, fingers twirling in the ends of his hair, as you comforted him.

“I— I’ve lived with this all for so long. This pain. Who am I without it?” He whispered into your ear, so afraid to admit such things while looking in your eyes. But you pulled away, just enough so you could see him. Your eyes searching his — and they were so tender and full of deep emotion. Love, he finally realized. His half-dead heart fluttered at the realization. You loved him — even as the broken, undeserving creature he was. But instead of falling into deprecation and self-loathing, he savored the realization. He let himself get lost in it, the feeling of being loved by you. The reality of being loved by you, and it was so good… after so many years of shit.

“You are so much more than your pain, Astarion,” Your thumb stroked his side gently, your hands still wrapped around him as you held him close. “Or your past. But now you can define yourself however you want to be.”

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of his red eyes as he buried his face into your neck once again. His emotions were too intermixed, too hard to communicate out loud now as they all vied for his attention. But instead of numbing himself like had for centuries, he let himself be calmed by you instead.

Astarion stayed in that tub with you until there was no trace of the blood and dirt, nothing left to remind the vampire of him. He had made a silent vow to himself to never speak that name again, to not give the dead vampire master power over himself anymore. You seemed to catch on quickly to that too, the poisonous name had not been on your lips since you left the crypt. There was of course the giant fucking ritual carved into his back. And his fangs and sanguine hunger that could only remind him of who had cursed him to this existence. But one thing at a time. Cleaning off the blood would be a start. Burning those retched clothes that he had suffered in as well…

You both were pruny, but clean, when you finally emerged from the tub. Your beautiful eyes never strayed from his face as the pale elf stood up and slipped out behind you, grabbing your extended hand for support. Damp footprints were left behind as the two of you trailed over to your bed hidden in the corner of the room.

You were lying in bed now, both of your naked bodies wrapped in the warm blankets and each other. There was nothing sexual about it… nothing like Astarion had experienced. To be fair, such thoughts were not even registering in his mind right now. But he was surprised at how much he enjoyed this — simply skin to skin with you, no lust or biting or anything.

It was the most at peace he had felt in weeks. Months. Years, really.

Despite everything else that had happened today.

His pointed ear was pressed to your chest, listening to the steady thrum of your heartbeat like it was his own personal lullaby. But he felt it stutter a few times, your breaths a bit shaky — pushing up he found you scrambling to wipe tears away from your cheeks. Before he could open his mouth, you were giving him a sad smile, "I'm fine." You whispered.

"Darling, you're crying," He said softly back, his thumb catching one of the tears you had missed, starting to roll down your freckled cheek.

"I'm just relieved you're here with me. I was terrified all day, but when he took you — when you were bound by that magic... Gods, I've never been so petrified in my life."

Now you know how I feel. He almost blurted it out, but stopped himself. No, in all of his selfish wallowing these last few hours, he hadn't even brought that up yet — that once again, you had fallen. Taken away from him, from this world. Even if was for just a moment. "I seem to remember having this conversation once before... on a dock in those wretched Shadowlands. What of your promise to me then, hmm? To stay out of harms way."

Your mouth and brows quirked down, "I was supposed to just standby and let you die?"

"I had to watch you die today. Again." His voice broke, his bottom lip trembling as he tried to keep even more tears at bay. "If it wasn't for...," He trailed off. If it wasn't for Shadowheart. If it wasn't for Selûne really — who both powered their cleric but had also done something more. Taken over for you? Imbued you? He wasn’t sure how to describe what he witnessed in that crypt. “What happened today with her? With Selûne?”

“I— I’m not sure," He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, your face furrowing as you thought. "One moment I was with you, and the next... I don’t know. I was there but not. Filled with divine fury and... I wasn't going to allow anything to happen to you. Apparently, neither was she."

Astarion placed his head back on your bare chest, your hand instantly finding the side of his face. Your fingers traced the bottom of his jaw, his strong cheekbones and up to the tops of his ear — before you repeated the smoothing motion all over.

"I will never just standby when it involves you, Starry. Whether it is a physical threat... or something deeper within yourself. I will always shield you, defend you..." You licked your lips nervously instead of finishing your sentence

Love you.

Astarion's mind finished the words instead as you trailed off. He moved his head so he instead shared your pillow, moving so your faces only an inch apart. He studied your face carefully, “Why… why do all that for me?”

Your eyes stared into his, shining with emotion before you lowered your voice into a soft whisper, “You know why, my love.”

His heart fluttered at the unspoken declaration. His cold fingers reached up, curled and delicate as he had ever been, “I can’t help but think— Do I deserve this? Am I worthy of this? Of you?”

“Astarion...." You pushed your warm, flushed check into the palm of his hand, "All you need to ask yourself is do you want this?”

Gods, your eyes and the intimate way the stared into his soul. Your lips, so tender as they pulled into a gentle smile. Your patient touch and desire for him. Your quick wit and sharp tongue. Your big, stupidly kind heart. All of it. He wanted every part of you, to call you his and for him to be yours.

But before he could gain the courage you spoke again, “You don’t need to answer today — enough has happened, my love.”

Hot tears escaped from his red eyes as you displayed your patience once again. He pressed his forehead to yours, a sob escaping him. But it wasn't a cry of anguish, or pain. He wasn't howling with rage and grief. They were tears of overwhelming joy.

The vampire gave himself a moment before letting out a little puff, “Gods, I can’t stop crying. I feel ridiculous.”

“You aren’t ridiculous.”

“I’ve cried more today than I have for my entire life I think. The first one and this one combined.” Despite the crying, he found himself hoping of having yet another life. A third on with you. A chance to start over, all over again.

“I think it’s justified,” You said kindly, "Rest, my love. We will have tomorrow. And the day after that."

At your whispered words and gentle caresses, Astarion finally fell asleep, dreaming of that promise. Tomorrow and the day after that... with you.

[kimoralov3]

dating chad meeks martin

a/n: this is completely self indulgent. i have literally been driving myself crazy the past 10 days thinking about this man. so if you don't agree with some of this, that's cool. but keep it to yourself mkay 😁

warnings: cursing, the slightest of scream vi spoilers, there are no pronouns used for reader

this man right here

you would think that he would be just your stereotypical jock when it comes to courting right???

well as proven in scream vi, you'd be fucking wrong

this man is literally so sweet it makes your teeth rot

for example

not long after the two of you met (y'all have english together or some shit) he knew he had a crush on you

so obviously he's gonna come up with an excuse to hang out with you because the two of you have barely even had a real conversation

and luckily for him, y'all's teacher assigned some partnered project

and before anyone could even ATTEMPT to ask you to be their partner chad was right beside you

and that's how it all began

even after the two of you were done with the project (you got an a), chad was still finding excuses to hang out with you

he noticed that you missed out on a class for some reason?? he took publication-worthy notes so he could stop by your dorm and give them to you

and then would proceed to stay over so he could go into further detail about the things you might still be confused on

there's a really big test coming up?? he'll meet you every day leading up to the test at 3:30 to help you study

doesn't even matter if he has the class or not, he just enjoys being around you

mindy definitely bullies him about taking too long to make an actual move

and as much as he would hate to admit it, she has a point

so one day after school, he stops by your favorite cafe and gets you your favorite drink and pastry because if he chickens out, at least he has an excuse as to why he was there

you were in your usual spot at the library, reading up on some material from the beginning of the semester

chad sits across from you and the two of you just kinda chill for like 30 minutes

chad takes that time to really plan out what he was going to say, cuz he'd be damned if he fucked up his shot

he goes on this like ramble about how he was interested in you from the moment he laid eyes on you, and how he'd make up stupid excuses to come see you

y'know cute shit like that

he'd end his little speech by flat-out saying the words i like you, but he'd also say that he understands if you need some time to think about his words

turns out that he didn't have to worry about that tho because you literally jumped across the table and kissed him

best way to say yes ever

anyways y'all were officially together after that and he could not be happier

some people might think that he'd stop all the sweet shit he was doing before, but no

in fact he does it even more now, saying that he wanted to cause you happiness as much as possible

you'd spend a lot of time in his dorm, cuddled up and watching movies and things

he'd also insist that you'd wear his hoodies and his letterman jacket, because "you just look so cute in them"

he'd make a point of the two of you going out on a date at least twice a month because again, he loves spoiling you

also he is definitely the protective boyfriend type

but not in like an icky toxic way

he'd step in at a party if he noticed that someone was making you uncomfortable

and it'd only get physical if the person refused to back off

like when he was about to fight that guy that was tryna sleep with tara? yeah he'd 100% do that for you without a moment's hesitation

one of his favorite things to say is that he's lucky to of found you

all in all he's literally the best fucking boyfriend ever and the two of you will never let each other go

[tenpintsofsundrop]

I just watched the trailer for Saw X and I literally have tears in my eyes oh my fucking god.

I have said this before - and I know it might sound so weird to some people, but if you get it, then you fucking get it. But the Saw series, especially Saw III in particular, is the only piece of media that involves themes of 'medical horror' that has genuinely helped me get over my medical trauma and has helped me cope with my medical trauma.

Every other piece of media ever - not just horror media - from Grey's Anatomy to random thriller movies, to literally any horror movie with a medical themed environment, finds some way to trigger my medical trauma, because they paint illness in the most ableist way possible.

Hospitals are scary. Being sick is scary. And they use illness and sick people as a concept for horror without being empathetic towards them in anyway, or by magically curing their diseases in a convenient 45 minute episode (which would never happen in real life).

John Kramer is a character who flips the script on conventional ableism in medical based horror because he does something revolutionary - he showcases the horror from the perspective of the sick person.

And right from the moment I first got to see him in Saw II, giving speeches while coughing and having to ask someone else for a glass of water, tied to an IV pole (that was incorporated cleverly into the plot) - someone being the most menacing and powerful man in the room when he couldn't even stand, he instantly captured my attention as a horror villain for the ages.

Unlike Chucky, or Jason, or Freddy, or fucking Michael Myers - John is fragile. He died on screen and went through an entire detailed autopsy on screen. And yes, people are gonna make memes about how the producers are gonna squeeze the character's 'before death' era for all its worth, but I would much rather have flashback's that make sense (cough - fucking Jigsaw) rather than continually saying that the dead character 'somehow returned' just because the filmmakers want more money. Plus, they screwed themselves when they killed off the best apprentice early on instead of just handing the series over to her - as it should have been.

But anyway, my point is - John is a sick person. Having the series be from the perspective of a cancer patient is a radical act in my opinion. Everything from the symbolism of poisoning people to the fact that he is terrifying and controlling while dying in a hospital bed shifts the series from potential medical trauma to something that (personally for me) is healing when it comes to medical trauma.

So the fact that this new film is specifically about targeting a corrupt medical system (which some of the others have touched on, with having Lawrence and Lynn as trap victims and the entire insurance plot in Saw VI) - it gives me chills. I couldn't help but get genuine tears of joy while watching the trailer.

The idea that doctors will promise people happiness and healing and no delivery, steal their time and energy only for them to end up back at square one - it something I relate to so much, and I know seeing this film will be so cathartic for me. I am so excited for this that I could scream.

[nabtime]

Our Empty Graves VI

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 6: i’ll cover the mirror (til it shows me someone i can face)

Chapter Summary: Danny settles into being part of Red Hood's gang. Gets shot and almost bleeds out. Again. Red Hood doesn't let him and also makes grilled cheese.

Chapter Notes: title from I WENT TO HELL AND BACK by AS IT IS Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 7 // Spotify

Danny would often just drift about the apartment. Haunting it. He certainly wasn’t living in it. One would have to be living first, in order to do that. No, the safe-house apartment Red Hood insisted he stay in was a place he haunted. Shambling aimlessly unless called upon by Red Hood himself or the screams of someone in need within the Alley.

He’d been in the Alley, working under Red’s command, for three weeks now and he’d say he was getting pretty familiar with his surroundings now. Learning the layout, learning the people, learning the rules both known and unspoken. Learning more about the politics and about Red Hood’s hostile takeover.

He’d been right that Red Hood was a new Gotham Rogue. But he’d been wrong about the man’s character. He was ruthless, true, but only to those that crossed the line. He could be callous, but only to those that deserved it. Sure, the duffel bag of heads was probably a bit much and might even be considered needlessly cruel. But he’d done it with purpose. He’d done it for a good reason.

Red Hood was trying to take over the Alley and make it better. He’d seen the plans. The strategies in motion. Harm reduction. Protection. Housing projects. Assistance programs. All of these funded by his gang, run by the community, and controlled by Red Hood through his lieutenants. He was a Crime Lord in the sense that all crime within his purview was controlled and run through him. His methods were bloody and oftentimes vile, but they worked. Danny had come to really admire him in the few weeks he’d been running errands for the guy.

And he was, honestly, often just running errands.

“Go help this family move in, I know you have super strength. Put it to use.”

“One of the girls isn’t feeling well and Ms. Bajorek made her some soup. Drop it off for me. You don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

“Here’s a list of groceries and a tip for Mr. Nguyen when you get them. I’m making you and the Alley kids lunch today. Don’t argue, I know you haven’t eaten, Glowstick.”

When Danny asked, the man had shrugged and said, “Well, since you won’t tell me more about what a Fetch is I’m gonna take the name seriously. So, you know,” and handed him a list, “go fetch.”

For all that he was a Crime Lord that did Crime Lord things, there was also quite a bit of mundane managerial tasks he had to do to keep everything running. And he was so meticulous about it all. Danny would often watch him in awe, hovering over his shoulder as he ran calculations and mapped out routes. Patrol routes that would cover the most vulnerable areas, delivery routes that would hit the most in need, drug running routes that would ensure the product stayed clean from the source to the buyer and cutting down anyone that messed with it. Red Hood had plans upon plans upon plans. Take out an uprising here, build a clean shelter for the houseless there, plant a communal garden, shoot one of Black Mask’s men in the kneecaps. Everything had a time and a place and was leading towards a safer city. Even if his methods were less than desirable.

Red Hood did bring him on more serious tasks, though. Ones that needed doing quickly and efficiently and viciously. Ones where mercy wasn’t likely and back-up was needed for stragglers. Red Hood never ordered him to take a life, never made him cross that line he was reluctant to cross. It wasn’t that Danny had any compunctions against killing, but he didn’t think he had the stomach for it himself. Didn’t think he could live with a death so directly on his conscious when so many were already piled there. He didn’t want to think about the ghosts that might come back to haunt him. He admired Red’s resolve all the more for it. He was ruthless but he was practical. He didn’t shy away from taking a life that didn’t deserve to keep living, but he spared all those that could reform.

Danny was always there as his shadow, as the menacing monster he kept on a leash. He was starting to earn a reputation in Gotham’s criminal underground. Red Hood’s loyal dog. Get too close and he might bite. (He’d only ever done that once, turning his mask intangible and lunging, his fangs sinking into reprehensible flesh. The woman had been beating a child. She lost her arm for it.)

He was also known, embarrassingly enough, as a sweetheart among the girls and the kids. A mystery and most times scary and off-putting. But the girls still cooed whenever he came to their rescue and the kids insisted on following him around (the braver ones even attempting to climb him like a tree). He didn’t know how to feel about it. Most of the time he popped out of invisibility rather than mingle. He was supposed to be a monster. Just a ghost haunting the city. In Amity the people had fled at the sight of him, screaming even as he saved them. They knew what he was, knew to treat him accordingly. But- the people here- they- It was different. He tried not to think about it too often.

Communication was something he was working on. Red Hood seemed to be the only one really able to puzzle out his game of charades, the others taking ages to guess what he meant or giving up after the first few tries. He rarely went anywhere by himself unless Red Hood specifically sent him out or it was an impromptu rescue, so it wasn’t often a problem if Red could translate. One of the kids had given him a whiteboard and a dry-erase marker at one point, making it so much easier. He kept them phased in his suit whenever he went out. One of the guys that ran with the girls had offered to teach him sign, but the lessons were slow-going and sporadic. He’d only had two in the past three weeks. But maybe someday he’d get there. He didn’t try to ‘speak’ much anyway. These past three weeks had been the first time in years anyone had even tried to talk to him. Most Amity Parkers had seen him and run and the ghosts he fought just tried to kill him.

Again, he tried not to think about it too much.

There wasn’t much else to do, though. He drifted through the halls of the apartment Red Hood had shoved him into, only occasionally using the couch for naps when gathering ectoplasm wasn’t enough to recharge, and it left his mind free to wander to dark places. Places he didn’t want to visit.

It felt odd. To inhabit a space meant for humans. To have a place to sleep and eat and live again. Red had come by a few times with ingredients and cooked for him in the empty kitchen, saying he didn’t care what Danny was- he needed to eat sometimes. Danny would obediently eat when the man was there, but the leftovers often went to rot. He felt bad about it. That was food that could go to someone else, someone who needed it more. But he could never bring himself to eat without company. It felt wrong. Ghosts didn’t eat. Didn’t need to eat. Often he would open the fridge and just stare. Stare at the food that was made for him, the food that he was allowed and encouraged to eat. It felt like too much and he’d shut the door.

He’d been drifting through the kitchen when the walkie-talkie Red used to talk to him from a distance with crackled to life. They’d tried regular burner phones, but something about Danny’s whole- being, didn’t agree with good signal. So after pouring a little bit of his own ectoplasm into the radio, the walkie-talkie seemed to be the only thing to work.

“You there, Fetcher?” Hood’s voice was extra staticky through his mask and the radio, but at least he didn’t seem hurried or in pain. Starting a mission or patrol instead of in the middle of one, then. Danny really didn’t like it when Hood called on him because he was injured, hated seeing the man in pain like that even as he felt honored to be trusted.

Three taps against the speaker. Yes.

Danny couldn’t exactly talk into the radio and without working burner phones he couldn’t text. So they had a system of taps that Hood could hear instead. Three for yes, four for no. Two taps for help, and five for false alarm.

“Good. We got some fuckers trying to take back territory for Black Mask. Need you to help me scare ‘em shitless.”

Three taps. Pause. Three more. Hell yes.

“Good boy,” and damn if that didn’t give him a highly inappropriate shiver. “Meet me on the roof and we’ll plan our ambush from there.”

Well, here’s hoping for a fun night of bashing heads and shooting out kneecaps.

═════ ◈ ═════

Danny stumbled into the tiny bathroom of his apartment, clutching his stomach in a bid to stem the flow of toxic green blood, gloved fingers slick with the substance.

His free hand slammed down onto the sink counter for balance as he wobbled and he made the mistake of looking up. Looking up into the mirror.

He never looked at his reflection. Hated the sight of it. The reminder that he was no longer human. Would never be human again. The thing that gazed back at him from the surface of the mirror was a monster. With the lights off in the bathroom it was extra eerie. Black hooded figure blending into the shadows, nothing standing out except for the pinpricks of glowing green eyes- reflecting like tapeta lucidum from under his tinted visor. The outline of his breathing apparatus just barely there, like the maw of a beast just barely in view. The only other source of light was the glow of the blood dripping through his white gloved hand.

He turned from his reflection with disgust and tumbled into the bathtub, hoping to rest and soak in whatever ectoplasm he lost. Here he could just- lay down and also not make a mess. He’d hate to have Red Hood flambe another couch because of him.

He hadn’t meant to get shot. Honest. He’d gone intangible, he knew he did. The bullet should have never hit his abdomen. It should never have caused as much damage as it was currently doing. He was bleeding so much… Man he really hoped Hood didn’t show up while he was trying to heal in the bathtub. He didn’t need to face the man while delirious with blood loss again. The first time was embarrassing enough, he didn’t want a second.

The wound was healing so slowly… There was something about that bullet. About that gun. Something wasn’t adding up here.

It was like he’d been hit with one of his parent’s inventions all over again.

Black Mask wouldn’t deal in ectoplasm, would he? What use would he have for it? He’d heard something about a kryptonite shipment that Hood was planning to ambush, so maybe the rarity? It was from another dimension after all. Didn’t matter that the place where Amity used to be was still crawling with it and so was Gotham. It wasn’t easily harvestable for humans. The GIW or his parents might be the only ones with a good supply, and even then they couldn’t control what type it was. For weapons it might be useful, if it was combative ecto. Some people had adverse reactions; tingling, numbing, temporary paralysis. If you were a ghost or ghost adjacent it was worse. So much worse.

In the beginning, most Amity Parkers were fine if they got hit by a blaster, just annoyed and covered in goo. But as time went on and more and more people were exposed, more and more of them started becoming susceptible to the many uses ectoplasm could have. Good to use for healing with the regenerative ecto but also more likely to be hit by a stray blast of combative ecto and not come back up. His high school classmates had been particularly vulnerable, having been infected multiple times directly. The combative type would take them down and then the healing type would bring them right back up. It could take time, though, if you were human- time some of his classmates hadn’t had enough of.

They’d lost a lot of people before they realized they had to be more careful with their shots. Before they realized that the thing that was killing them could also bring them back. Stupid. It’d all been so stupid. It had taken so, so many times of him trying to frantically heal everyone hit before his parents arrived to shoot him indiscriminately, before anyone realized he was trying to help them. And even then they hadn’t trusted him. It was one of the last things he did before giving up on being human. The last time he’d pretended to be alive, just to sneak into his parent’s lab and leave them a sample of regenerative ectoplasm and a theory written in his dad’s handwriting.

It didn’t matter how careful his parents pretended to be with it- the suits, the breathing apparatuses, the heavy gloves and protective eye-wear- they still slung it around in the name of taking down evil ghosts. Shots firing every which way- hitting people and poisoning the land around them. Whatever got the ghost. Whatever “saved the day”. It’s not like it actually hurt anyone, right?

Ectoplasm was a funny thing. It’s what ghosts were made of. What they fought with. What they ate and used to heal. What the lairs they inhabited were made of. Goo but with feelings. Multipurpose soul juice. The thing that he was losing a lot of…

Man, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy. He sure hoped the wound would start to heal itself soon, before he fainted and couldn’t do anything about it… Would be a silly way to fully go out. Bleeding out in a bathtub.

Oh, his vision was going black.

Well, it was no worse than the first time he died…

═════ ◈ ═════

He could remember the initial disappointment the most. How his parents had deflated so completely when the culmination of decades of work had failed them at the most pivotal point. He remembered the uncertainty- they could live off the patents, yes, but they weren’t exactly bought all that often and they mostly got by on the grant money. And if the grant money was gone because none of their inventions or theories or anything ever worked- then how would they survive? He remembered the despair. He remembered the relief he felt when the portal didn’t work at first. Maybe without the portal in the way his parents would pay more attention to him, spend more time with him. And then the guilt because his parents just looked so sad. He remembered the discomfort, the whole family dressed in their restrictive HazMat suits. He remembered how suffocating the SCBA felt to breathe in and how hard it was to move in. How hot it’d been. He remembered his parents ushering them all back to the entrance to dress down in heavy silence.

He remembered his parents going back to the drawing board, however dejectedly, and learning to resent the portal all the more for it.

And then Sam had presented him with a challenge. A dare. Goading him into exploring the portal on his own. To look into the maw of the monster and place himself inside its jaw. This was a mystery in need of exploring and Danny was the only one that could do it.

They’d huddled together, the three of them, at the entrance to the lab. Sam eager, Tucker reluctant, and Danny… Danny had been scared. They’d snuck in after his parents had left, and they’d been alone in the lab when they really, really shouldn’t have.

Uneasy, he had donned the HazMat suit once again. Piece by piece. White with black trim. Specifically designed by his parents to deal with non-vapor ectoplasm. Not that they’d seemed to ever encounter it. He had prepped all his pieces, made sure his tank was full of oxygen. Checked for cracks and tears. His hands had shaken the entire time. He had pulled the mask over his face, pulled the overalls over his jeans and clipped them into place. He had snapped the nitrile gloves on, tearing one in the process and having to get another. He had then stopped to watch his hands flex under the gray material, trying to put off the inevitable. The hooded coverall had come next, slipping his socked feet into the strange material of the white suit. His socks had been mismatched- one red and one blue. Then the black boots with steel toes and shanks. Then the outer gloves. Then the tape to seal it all in. To seal him in his tomb. And lastly he had shrugged on the tank and connected it to his mask and turned the oxygen on. And with heavy, heavy feet, he’d made his way into the lab proper. To the dreaded portal.

He could remember the chill he’d felt, before he’d even stepped near. Remembered the sense of impending doom. He’d taken one last look back at his friends, taking in the hesitant thumbs up from Tucker and the happy shooing motion from Sam. She’d thought it all so cool. Thought that trying to study ghosts, trying to punch a hole in their dimension to do it, was all just fascinating. After though… After she couldn’t even think about ghosts without paling, without running. Running from him.

He’d seen the pale imitation of a reflection in the glass that sectioned off the entrance from the lab proper, face unrecognizable behind his mask and gaping hole of darkness set behind him. Translucent like he was already a ghost. He’d pulled the small flashlight his suit had within its pockets and had shone it into the abyss. Small glow piercing the sticky shadows. He’d felt the livewire energy beneath his feet when he’d stepped inside, but did not heed the warning. It was just wires and metal plating. Nothing more and nothing less. It was another of his parent’s failed inventions. He’d thought nothing more of it before diving further in.

The cables. The cables that his parents- his mother more- had been adamant about keeping tied away and neatly stored within the machine itself had been strewn about. A result of his father’s frustrated tinkering in the aftermath. And what had it mattered to him that he hadn’t placed them back where they should have gone? His prized invention was moot, anyway. There was no harm in leaving a mess when the mess was inert. When nothing was likely to happen anyway.

But Danny hadn’t seen them. His pen light had been facing above, checking the upper pallet of the monster he had climbed inside. Checking for teeth. And then he’d tripped. And he’d felt fear like he’d never felt before. Heart-stopping. He’d faintly heard the grumbling roar of a hungry beast, felt the eagerness like it’d been palpable around him. And his hand had landed on a button that shouldn’t have been there. The secondary on switch that had been forgotten about. Until that moment.

And after that it was nothing but pain. Burning, scorching, tearing. Fire and shock and blinding white pain like he’d never experienced in his life before. Like he was melting and being ripped to shreds at the same time.

And all he remembered was screaming and screaming and screaming. And there had been nothing but green and green and green until it all. Went. Black.

Anything that had immediately happened after his half-death was a blur. Stumbling out of the portal feeling wrong. Not even noticing that he was completely alone in the lab. That Sam and Tucker had fled with the flash and the screaming. He barely remembered doffing his gear, completely haphazardly and with no regard to the burnt and melting pieces. Collapsing on the bench and blacking out until he was being shaken awake by his sister. Jazz had been crying, taking in the lichtenburg scar that was less lighting through his veins as more burns across his skin in the same pattern. She’d been desperately shaking him awake. He remembered looking over and seeing his parents watching the swirling green of the functioning portal with gleeful awe. His mother turning with a question on her lips before it all morphed into concern. He remembered his mother and father being so worried about him as they had loaded him up into an ambulance. But he’d also remembered that the portal had come first. That the portal had always come first.

Scratchy sheets and thin blankets. Bland jello and plain broth as his vocal chords healed from being shredded by his screaming. Burn cream and bandages. Stress tests and neurological checks. Can you squeeze my hands? Breath deep for me. Look into this light. Can you raise your arms? Twitching nerves and bradycardia. Hands that would shake under stress and a temperature permanently low- no matter how many times they placed him under the heated air blanket- the bair-hugger. All he’d ever felt was suffocated. Overheated. Drowning.

Low, low, low. Everything had been low. Dangerously. Blood pressure check. Low. Alarmed Nurses and Doctors, checking and rechecking. Adjusting the cuff, moving the cuff, using a manual cuff. Low, lower, lowest. Heart rate check. Too low. Too, too low. Stand up. Sit down. Walk. Move. Please, please move. And it would get higher, just a little bit. Acceptable. But not for having just been forced to jog. Respiration check. Slow, slower, slowest. Breathing any faster had made him feel like he was going to panic. Temperature check. Freezing. Frigid. Too low, again and again. He’d never felt so cold in his life. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

But his heart was still beating, however slow. His lungs were still expanding, however infrequent. He was still alive. Mostly. Probably. Right?

Sam and Tuck never visited.

And then the changes began.

It didn’t happen until he’d been released from the hospital. Cleared only after meeting with every specialist under the sun and getting hesitant approval for outpatient care. Talks of pacemakers, burn treatments, and invasive surgeries in his future. And then he fell through his bed.

Not out of. Not on top of. Through.

He’d woken up in a panic underneath his bed- and holy shit had it been rank under there, he really needed to clean more- in the dark and in the dust, not knowing what had happened. He’d crawled out from under it and flopped back onto his bedspread, heedless of whatever grossness he’d dragged with him. He’d been too tired to think about why he’d woken up under the bed, but in the morning- bed sheets covered in dust- it had been harder to forget. But there had been no answers, not then. Nothing to even guess at, nothing at all to tell him that he hadn’t just died in that accident, but had become the monster under his own bed. Inhuman.

He’d woken up a different day, feeling heavy and like it was hard to breathe. He’d felt disoriented and out of sorts. Then he’d seen his hands. Covered in gloves. White, rubbery, chemical-resistant gloves. And with dawning horror he’d looked down and seen those heavy white steel-toed boots. And the bunched black material of a hazmat suit. The colors were wrong- he was wrong. But it was the same suit. The same one he’d almost died in. And suddenly he’d realized that maybe that almost wasn’t as almost as he’d first thought. That there hadn’t been an almost at all, just death. Just. Death.

And then he’d spiraled. Had he been pretending this whole time? Convinced himself and everyone else he was alive when he’d really been a wolf in sheep’s clothing? A monster just waiting to tear off the thin veneer of life he’d disguised himself with?

And then there had been a knock on his door and the surprise of the sound had shocked him into reverting back to human form. And from there the process had been slow and painful, but he’d learned. Learned of the word Halfa, the term Fetch, and what it meant for him. Learned how to fight, quick and dirty, in order to prevent himself and the rest of his town from becoming full ghosts. Learned that despite his heroics, deep down, he was still a monster. Other. He’d never been exactly normal, not with parents like his, but now it felt impossible to be comfortable in his own skin. Unsettling. Disturbing. Nightmarish. A creepy little boy with creepy little powers. It was all he’d become and all he’d ever be. Didn’t matter how cool the powers were on the surface, how much he distracted himself from the truth by playing with them. He’d still had to deal with the fact that he was no longer human. Not fully. And no one knew. Nobody would ever know. He’d seen to that.

Not that it mattered now. Not with everybody gone. Long gone. And it was all his fault.

═════ ◈ ═════

“Son of a bitch,” came the familiar static of Rad Hood’s voice, rousing Danny from his dazed state. “Don’t you fucking die on me you limp noodle!”

Danny wanted to groan. He could feel bandages tightening around his midsection, hands- shaking hands?- winding the fabric around a tender bullet hole, parts of his suit cut off and leaving his skin vulnerable to the air when it so rarely was.

No. Danny clumsily signed. It was one of the few things he could sign, along with- Good.

“No,” Red said angrily, “you are not good. I had to fish a bullet out of you, Fetcher!”

He sounded distressed. Or maybe that was just Danny still delirious from blood loss. Again. He really needed to stop doing that. He let out a calming trill, hoping that would get the man to relax and stop yelling. It did not.

“Don’t you make stupid noises at me, Jellyfish,” he reprimanded, voice terse. He was close, so very close, hands still busy wrapping up Danny’s abdomen. Red’s body loomed over his, crammed into the tiny space of the tub. He could see the tweezers and saline and suspiciously green bullet still sitting on the lid of the toilet next to them. “You’re a fucking dumbass coming back here and just laying in your stupid toxic blood. What were you planning to do? Marinate? Idiot.”

He wanted to protest. He signed another No. And even tapped out four taps for a No he would use for the walkie-talkie for good measure. He hadn’t exactly planned to keep bleeding into the bathtub, alright? How was he supposed to know the bullet would stay lodged in there? I mean, sure, he could have made an educated guess before passing out, but still.

“What kind of guy that can density-shift gets shot in the first place, anyway?”

Danny rolled his eyes and smacked Hood’s shoulder for that. Not his fault the bullets were phase-proof when they shouldn’t have been.

“Don’t you smack me when I’m trying to save your life,” he grumbled, tying off the wrapping and sitting up. “Asshole.”

Red crossed his arms and glared down at Danny, his bulk almost blocking out the light above them. His knees caged in Danny’s hips and they were awfully, awfully close. Damned blood loss again.

He sighed without making sound, his shoulders rising even as he felt a twinge from his would pulling. With the bullet out he’d start healing in no time. Not that Red knew that. He patted Hood’s thigh in reassurance and immediately regretted it. What the hell kind of juicy-ass thighs did this man have? What the fuck. He needed to focus, dammit.

He motioned with the other hand for something to write with, scribbling in the air.

“Don’t you carry a whiteboard?” Red asked flatly.

Danny pointed to the wrappings around his wound. He kept the whiteboard and marker in his chest. He couldn’t phase that out right now if he tried. He couldn’t phase anything right now. He was surprised to find that he was even still in his phantom form, probably thanks to Hood’s interference, otherwise his core would have retreated into itself and used all other available ectoplasm to heal while in “human” form.

Red shook his head and climbed out of the tub. “Alright, alright, jellyfish. H-up we go.”

How many times was Danny just going to be casually scooped up by this guy and carried like a princess? Twice was already too many to keep his dignity intact. Once again he was plopped onto the couch and left as Red rooted around for something to write with. Deja vu, much?

He came back with a legal pad and a purple crayon. Why crayons? Always crayons?

“Explain,” he demanded, handing off the utensils.

Danny grabbed a cushion and used it as a makeshift table of sorts to balance the legal pad on and began writing. At least this time he could use his hands properly. Even if they were shaky from the anemia.

Bullets didn’t pass through like they should have. Something is wrong. They shouldn’t be like that. Coated in something Black Mask shouldn’t have access to.

He flipped the pad around, Red grabbing the edge to keep it steady as he read.

“Well, kid,” he said, slowly. “Looks like you’re fucked.”

Danny flipped him off. Not helpful, Red.

“Any idea what this substance is that our number one enemy shouldn’t have is?” he asked, settling down to sit on the flimsy coffee table right beside the couch. Danny was surprised it could hold his weight.

The question made him pause, though. Did he tell Red Hood about ectoplasm? Risk the man finding out more about what, exactly, kind of monster he insisted on harboring in his territory? Risk his only ally ratting him out to the GIW?

He kept silent, hesitant. He trusted Red. He did. But not that much, not yet. If it became a bigger problem, became a problem that was going to hurt others, then he’d confess. But for now he shook his head, hoping Red would take his silence as contemplative instead of edgy.

(The incident with the knife that had left Red Hood himself paralyzed with a dangerously growing weakness, was far from his mind. He hadn’t seen the green sheen to the knife that cut the man. Had no reason to know that combative ectoplasm would have such harsh repercussions for him. The consequences of this were yet unknown.)

Hood hummed and Danny couldn’t tell if it was because he believed him or not but mercifully the man moved on. Unmercifully, Danny did not like the change in subject.

“You need more hand-to-hand if your powers are going to be useless. You rely on them too much as it is.”

Danny ripped a page from the legal pad and threw it at him. He knew how to fight just fine, thanks! Sure he’d learned it all on the fly, but still! He could brawl!

Red snickered as he caught the paper and threw it back. “Non-negotiable, jellyfish. I’m kicking your ass for almost dying on me tonight.”

Danny threw his hands up, exasperated. He hadn’t almost died! He’d have been fine! Probably. Maybe not. But still! No ass kicking required! He crossed his arms and tried to project the feeling of a pout. Maybe he could puppy-dog eye his way out of this. Red Hood was built like a tank and if he was the one that was going to teach Danny how to properly fight, then no thank you. He may be okay with the thought of dying by those thighs, but he’d rather not be bruised all to hell first. He also didn’t want to loose any more dignity and he was sure that sparring with Red would take all he had left.

“Nope,” Hood said cheerfully, ignoring Danny’s silent protests as he moved toward the kitchen and rummaged around Danny’s fridge. “No amount of sparkly-eyed looks will get you out of this, glowstick. I’m talking to Sandra in the morning and setting up a time in the dojo for us and that’s final.”

Danny waved his hand in a flopping motion, resigned. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Woe be unto him and all that. Death by Hood punches it was.

“Why do you not have anything in this fucking fridge ever,” he heard Hood mutter, along with clinks and bangs as he moved about. “I swear to Batman’s furry ass if you haven’t eaten since Friday you’ll be wishing I killed you earlier tomorrow.”

Batman’s furry ass?! Tomorrow?!

“Don’t act surprised,” he rebuffed, voice still distracted as he dug through cabinets and gathered any and all cookware that was only there because Red brought it in the first place. “If you insist you’re fine I’m gonna treat you that way. I know you have accelerated healing.”

Danny slapped the couch cushions so Red Hood would properly hear his protests. Ancients, he really was going to die. Hood was going to kill him. Kill him good and dead. He was not long for this world. Goodbye, all, there wasn’t anything good keeping him here anyhow.

“Well, shit, at least you got cheese and bread. Somehow. How have neither of these gone bad already?”

Ooh, does that mean grilled cheese is on the menu? Suddenly he found his will to live.

He popped up from behind the couch like a meerkat looking towards the kitchen, excited at the possibility of cheesy-bready goodness. The only thing missing was tomato soup, but he knew he didn’t have that in his cabinets.

Hood leveled a threatening spatula at him as he turned to face the living room. “You. Get back down. Losers who bleed out because they agitated wounds don’t get the good stuff.”

Danny huffed and fell back into the couch. Spoilsport. It’s not like it even hurt anymore. He was fine. Would be fine. Probably.

Oh man, he was really gonna hate tomorrow. But tonight- grilled cheese and witty banter would heal his heart and soul. And probably also the ectoplasm. But, the power of Red Hood’s grilled cheese was not to be underestimated.

[melziss]

Literally, nobody asked for my opinion on the second chase sequence in scream VI, but let me give it nonetheless.

The thing is, I get really attached to characters, truly.

I'm not over wes' and liv's deaths at all , definitely not over tatum's, and I cry at least twice a day because of anika.

But I understand the fact that if everybody lives, the whole point of the movie goes to shit. scream is a slasher franchise, and that's what makes it, it!

But mindy is my girlie, and therefore, I wanted her happiness, so Im constantly thinking of the mistakes that were made that fatidic night.

so let me argue that anika could 100% have lived.

here are the issues that I have:

#1 - Mindy's cut on her arm.

See, I've never been stabbed (thank whomever), but as previously seem in the other scream movies that cut wasn't that bad , mindy was literally acting like she lost a limb. And the following morning(?) as they go to the shrine, she's carrying her bag on the side that she was hurt (my friend and I noticed that while watching in the theathers and got so confused), so it couldn't have been that bad. Which takes me to issue number:

#2 - The bedroom scene.

Okay, so much whent wrong here, but let's start with the fact that sweet baby anika has been mauled. The poor kid was gutted for no reason at all and is in the worst shape of the three. That's why I don't understand the ladder sequence. Sam is 100% fine (physically) and is the strongest of them in there. So after she helped mindy to (badly) block the door and set the ladder with danny, she should have shipped Anika off to the other side. I really didn't see a single reason why Sam crossed first (other than the usual : "can't leave tara").

So let's talk about how that should've gone.

Sam should've told anika to go first, taking Mindy's place blocking ghostface from entering the room (as she is the strongest) and telling mindy to hold the ladder. Anika crossed slower than everyone because of her wounded stomach, but she was doing fine until everybody got desperate because gf showed up, and she got desperate as well, plus the whole shaking the ladder. So with mindy holding the ladder and danny calming her, she would've crossed that bitch in record time. which would prompt mindy to cross next because she is the more injured of the two of them remaining in that room and Sam to leave the door and hold the ladder. Mindy crossed pretty quickly, and now is Sam's turn. Ghostface hasn't gotten through the block yet, and Sam is halfway through crossing, and when gf finally breaks the block and sees that our dear sammy is the one in there, they would simply not try and make her fall.

Why? You may ask. because the kirsch family can't have act three happen without Sam. She is the star of their fucked up little vengeance plot and there's no villain for their story if she dies.

so anika could've lived.

but then you can just make the point that sam was desperate to live for tara and that she had no idea that she was needed in the kirsch family plot , and I can't argue with that

but imma bitch abt it anyways.

[juniperhillpatient]

If you're still taking fire questions, I'd be interested in hearing what you think about Scream VI if you've seen it.

I'm always taking questions! I think the "fire" thing was for an unpopular opinion game a while back but I have no clue if my opinions on this are popular or not so I'll just share them in general.

I LOVED Scream VI! The creative team made this movie with so much love for the Scream fandom. There are so many amazing & fun details that connect it to the original 4 movies while still telling a new story. It was fantastic to see legacy characters like Gale & Kirby interacting with the new cast. Ignoring the behind-the-scenes drama with Neve Campbell, I think that 5 sent Sidney Prescott off in a wonderful way & 6 (this truly isn't a spoiler) made a nice reference to Sid getting her happy ending which I think is a humongous comfort all Scream fans.

Scream 5 sets the stage for this new era with new characters & Scream 6 lets us truly experience the start of this new era. The escape from Woodsboro & New York New Rules thing was so fresh & fun & they used the setting to their advantage in many clever ways.

Without spoiling it, I think that in a series famous for its shocking intros this intro KILLED (literally hehe). I was also a HUGE fan of the Ghostface reveal & motives. Also, this movie had some of the scariest & most heart-pounding scenes in it. I was on the edge of my seat several times & I'm a seasoned horror fan. A huge part of that is that this movie made the correct writing decision of making you care about the characters. Slashers as a genre are about enjoying brutal kill scenes. Scream, however, is a unique series that works specifically because you love the characters (or, that's a huge part of it anyway) & this new cast really cemented their place in my heart in this movie.

Also, the KILLS omg the KILLS. This movie is BRUTAL. I'd argue it might just be the goriest Scream film yet. I mean, it's hard to compare - 5 was pretty gory too - but this one just had some truly memorable death scenes.

Honestly, this movie was just fantastic. It was so clever & I had parts of the mystery figured out by the end but the way they did it - ugh, I can't say but the TWISTS this took -- ooooh it was SO fucking good & exciting & satisfying the way it all came together. I cannot wait to re-watch it.

Anyway, thank you for asking! I love talking about Scream so I appreciated the excuse to ramble hehe

[graceful-starker]

Peter’s Boyfriend Ch. 2

Summary: Tensions continue to grow between Peter and Tony, and it’s starting to affect their friend group. Different friends offer different advice; which one will Peter take?

Notes: warnings for jealousy, angst, insecurity, drinking, drugs, and. I’m so happy y’all like this! I really like growing their personalities and personal drama 🥰

~~~~~

Fall break is coming up, and Peter has been dating Wade for over a month now. Wade has been over to hang out with Peter’s friends a ton, and Peter has even gone to hang out with Wade’s frat brothers.

They’ve even fooled around, which is more than Peter has ever gone before, as little as it was.

But things have gotten significantly worse, when it comes to his best friend.

Tony never answers Peter’s texts, he refuses to sit next to Peter, and Peter can be screaming at Tony, but the Junior will still ignore him.

It’s gotten so bad, that the rest of their friend group has started going around and giving out advice.

It started a week ago, when Peter went out to celebrate a full month of having his first boyfriend.

~

Peter giggles as Wade walks them from class to the common area of this building, lacing their fingers together happily.

“So…” Wade says, swinging their arms softly. “Today is kind of a special day…”

Peter hums, pretending to think. “Oh, it’s free drinks Friday!” Peter exclaims.

“Ha ha,” Wade says, sticking out his tongue. “You’re the worst boyfriend, like, ever.”

Peter beams up at him, stopping them and pulling Wade down for a kiss. “Happy month-a-versary,” he whispers into Wade’s lips.

They’re broken apart by Tony, who violently pushes his way through them. “God damn assholes stopping in the middle of the fucking hallway…”

Rhodey is right behind him, but stops in his tracks. “Holy shit, I am so sorry about him!” Rhodey puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “That was so rude of him. He’s just been in a mood lately, I’m sorry Pete.”

Peter shrugs, rubbing his arm where it barley hurts. “I don’t know what I did to make him hate me,” he mumbles, looking at Wade. “Are you okay?”

Wade nods, glaring after Tony. “What an asshole. As if he couldn’t walk around.”

Rhodey sighs. “He’s just…hey Wade, can I have just a second with Pete?”

Wade nods, walking over to the side of the hallway. “So I’m not in anyone’s way,” he says drily.

Peter rolls his eyes at the thought of what Tony did, and turns back to Rhodey. “What’s up?”

Rhodey smiles sadly, looking at where Tony stomped off to. “I just wanted to say that Tony is…going through it right now. He does this—when he feels vulnerable, he shuts out people he cares about. We grew up together, and he literally always goes radio silent until he’s over his little tantrum.”

Peter quirks a brow. “Vulnerable? What did I do to make him feel vulnerable?”

“I’ve already over stepped,” Rhodey says sadly, seeing Tony sulking at the end of the hall. “Just…it’ll pass. I promise.”

“Okay…” Peter shakes his head in confusion, but rejoins Wade. “Anyway…where do you wanna celebrate?”

~

The next time was the next day, a Saturday. They were going to have another movie night, the last one before Thanksgiving break.

Peter had secured them a armchair this time, so Thor would probably accept the bean bag chair. He’s the most relaxed out of all of them, he won’t put up a fight.

It was normal, for the most part. Tony brought a blunt, which Bruce was currently holding as he watched Nat and Clint make out with a sad look on his face. Wanda and Vis were having a quiet conversation, Wanda smiling brightly while she runs her fingers through his hair as he talks. Tony and Rhodey are having what looks like a lot less fun of a conversation in the kitchen, while they pretend to be deciding which beer they want. Bucky and Sam were sitting next to each other, until Steve squeezed in between them, causing them to scoot apart. He holds a bowl of popcorn in his lap, which Sam, annoyed, takes a handful of.

Wade is sitting in the chair, and Peter is sitting in his lap. They both have a cup of beer in hand, and Wade’s arm is around Peter’s back to keep him steady. “So,” Wade says, smiling up at Peter. “What movie is tonight?”

Peter hums softly, turning his attention from Steve back to his boyfriend. “Interstellar. Personally, I hate the movie. It’s long and confusing. But Thor and Bruce always get so into it, and the night always ends with them giving a very high explanation about how the space time continuum works.” Peter rolls his eyes fondly.

Wade grins, looking at Peter with what can only be described as pure adoration. “Hm. Why do you come for this movie then?”

Peter shrugs. “I love my friends.” He leans in for a kiss, nuzzling Wade’s nose after.

Wade grins from ear to ear, putting his beer on the table and cupping the back of Peter’s head to pull him back down for a kiss. Peter giggles into it, and leans into the kiss.

All the sudden, Tony slams a can down loudly on the counter, making everyone jump. Wanda freezes with her hand halfway through Vis’s hair. Natasha and Clint pull apart, Bat’s lips cherry red and Clint’s face matching. The room is silent as they look at the noise maker. “Well I wouldn’t mind so much if everyone in this god damn group wasn’t so shameless!” He yells, not noticing the rest of the room staring.

“Shhh!” Rhodey hushes, looking over Tony’s shoulder. “God Tony, you’re such a hypocrite.” He hisses, but everybody hears.

Tony’s scoffs, shaking his head. “At least I have the decency to get a damn room! I mean, how many people have you seen me kiss?”

“You don’t kiss people Tony, you fuck them and forget them,” Rhodey’s eyes go dark with anger. “Just because you’re incapable of emotional vulnerability doesn’t mean the rest of us have to hide our love.”

Obviously insulted, Tony aims to kill. “‘Us’” Tony mocks, palm resting flat on the counter now. “You’re 20 and haven’t even kissed someone yet, let alone been in love. What do you know of love? You’re a god damn loser.”

Peter gasps softly at the harsh words, and he isn’t the only one.

Rhodey works his jaw, nodding his head dangerously. “If you keep being this big of heartless dick, you won’t have any friends left.” Rhodey storms off, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him.

Tony punched the marble countertop, hissing in pain and turning around to see everyone staring. “What are you fucking looking at?” Tony growls. When everyone continues to stare, and no one says anything, he growls again and storms over to Bruce. He steals the blunt back, goes to his bedroom, and slams the door so hard the room shakes.

Bruce looks at his now empty hand with a sad sigh, while everyone else shared nervous glances. Thor clears his throat, wiggling out of the bean bag chair and standing. “I’ll go talk to him,” he says, shaking his head. “Idiot…”

Natasha suddenly stands, pushing Clint off of her and going to Peter and Wade’s chair. “Parker. I need to talk to you.”

Wade raises a brow, looking between her and Clint. “Am I invited?” He teases. When he gets no response, he clears his throat awkwardly and grabs his beer again. “I’ll wait here baby, go ahead.”

Peter sighs and puts his beer down instead, and follows Nat to the hallway. “That was rude, you know. He’s my boyfriend, you should at least acknowledge him when he’s-“

“This is your fault,” Natasha says, turning on her heel and crossing her arms.

Peter raises a brow, jaw snapping shut. “Sure, I wasn’t in the middle of a sentence.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “This is your fault,” she repeats. “He’s acting like this because of you.”

Peter scoffs at this, crossing his own arms. “I don’t know what I did to make him hate me, but I’m not controlling him. He’s his own person, who makes his own decisions. If he wants to make an ass out of himself, that’s not my fault.”

Natasha’s turn to scoff. “He’s in love with you.”

Peter laughs at that, until he sees she’s serious. “No, he isn’t. He’s straight, for starters-“

“Tell that to his eyes that are always glued to Thor’s abs when he’s shirtless.”

“-and even if he wasn’t, there is zero possibility he would into me-“

“Has Wade not been helping with the whole confidence thing, or do I need to beat him up?”

“-I mean have you seen me? You’re the one that always calls me ugly in the first place! And other than that-“

“All in good fun, Parker, you’re obviously very attractive-“

“I literally confessed my love for him in front of the entire group and he didn’t do anything!” Peter finally finishes, getting a headache from Nat talking over him. She blissfully stops nagging, mouth snapping shut with an audible click. “Maybe you were too stoned to remember, Natasha, but I made a fool out of myself two months ago with that stupid quiz you forced me to take. There was an entire month between that night and when Wade asked me out, and he didn’t make a god damn move. In fact, he slept with more girls than before, friend-zoned me even more than before. He doesn’t want me, he never has, and so whatever crawled up his asshole and made house there is not my fault.”

Natasha’s arms uncross, and she can’t look into Peter’s eyes anymore. “I thought that was a joke…”

Peter smiles sadly. “Yeah, well,” He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “But even if through all of that, he did love me, why would it be my fault? What, am I supposed to be a nun for my entire life so Tony can hold some weird possession over me without actually making a move? He didn’t want me, I’m moving on, that’s normal. I have no obligation to wait for him when I know he never will and he definitely didn’t ask me to.”

Natasha sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I still think he’s in love with you.”

“He isn’t,” Peter mumbles, leaning into the wall. “As far as anyone is allowed to speculate, he’s straight. He’s said he’s straight, not into guys, only into girls. And like you said—if he was bi or gay or whatever he is, he stares at Thor. Not me. Thor is basically a god—“ he ignores Natasha’s snort. “And I’m—I mean, look at me! I still can’t believe someone as gorgeous as Wade Wilson would ever be into me, I got nothing going for me.”

“Your eyes aren’t bad,” Nat mumbles. “They’re less poop colored and more chocolate.”

“Thanks,” he says drily, looking at the floor. “Just because you’re only into Aryan-“

“I’m Russian, I’m going to stop you right there,” she says playfully, a smile in her voice.

“I’m Jewish, what’s your point?” He quirks a brow, a matching smile on his face as they finally meet eyes again.

 Nat rolls her eyes and wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulder as she leads them back inside. “Whatever…”

~

Wade groans loudly, flopping over dramatically on Peter’s bed and looking at Peter upside down. “You’ve been studying all day!” He whines. “Your boyfriend is waiting very patiently-“

“Impatiently,” Peter corrects without looking up from his flash cards.

“Very patiently,” Wade says petulantly. “And you’ve been ignoring him for hours!”

Peter rolls his eyes but looks up with a fond smile. “I have a test tomorrow,” he reminds said boyfriend.

“Yeah, but you have like a 110% in chem,” Wade pouts. “So really, you don’t need to study anymore.”

Peter giggles and puts his cards down, turning his chair and facing Wade. The older boy turns around and gets on his hands and knees like a puppy, eyes excited. Peter can almost see a tail wagging. “Fine. I’ll take a little break. What do you want to do?”

Wade makes a happy noise and rolls off the bed, stepping in between Peter’s spread legs. “I think you know exactly what I wanna do.”

Peter’s eyes darken with lust, and he puts his hands on Wade’s hips. He hums teasingly, licking his lips. “Oh, I dunno…I think you want to see a movie.”

Wade makes a face. “Unless you’re gonna pull an Alanis Morissette-“

Peter almost asks what the hell that means, when suddenly his door flies open and slams against the opposite wall. Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and Wade throws himself backwards onto the bed.

“Peter!” Steve yells, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“I thought you locked the door when you came in,” Peter hisses, side eying Wade.

Wade shoots Peter a sheepish look, letting the younger boy know Wade definitely forgot to lock the door.

“Peter,” Steve repeats, looking frantic still. “I need to talk.”

“Really? Because the whole making a hole in my wall thing kind of sent the vibe you came to chill,” Peter snarks.

“Get out,” Steve says to Wade, stepping away from the door.

“Hey!” Peter says, eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell-“

“I did something bad. Really, really bad.” Steve says, eyes pleading.

“And that means you can kick my boyfriend out of my dorm room?” Peter grumbles. Poor Wade is still on the bed, looking half annoyed and half angry.

“I slept with someone I shouldn’t have and now I think I’ve ruined everything.”

Peter blinks. Then he turns to Wade. “Get out.”

Wade looks even more confused, and then he grumbles as he stands. “I like your friends a little less every time I see them,” he grumbles, grabbing his phone.

“Me too,” Peter says, ignoring Steve’s indignant noise in favor of giving Wade a chaste kiss. “Text me later, I’ll come over to your place.”

“Okay,” Wade says, giving Steve a mean look before shutting the door behind him.

Peter waits to hear Wade’s footsteps disappear down the hallway, before turning to Steve. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I was,” Steve says, blushing a bit. “Not anymore.”

“Okay,” Peter says slowly, and gestures for Steve to sit on his bed. “What happened?”

Steve wrings his fingers together and sits carefully, not looking Peter in the eye. “I don’t know if you know this, but I think I’ve realized I might…I’m maybe…I think I’m in love with Bucky.”

Peter pretends to be shocked. “Really? No one could tell, don’t worry.”

Steve smiles shyly. “Thanks, that’s good to know…” he wrings his fingers together, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Wait, you slept with Bucky?” Peter asks. Now that, he is surprised by.

“No,” Steve says sadly. “No, I saw him and Sam kissing outside in the courtyard,” he starts, starting to tap his hands on his thighs. “And I…I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Okay…so you…what, you slept with Sam?” Peter guesses. It makes Steve smile, so it was worth it.

“No, I…I didn’t know how to handle my feelings, so I went to find Nat. She’s good with this stuff, you know?”

Peter gasps, eyes wide. “You did not sleep with Natasha. Does Clint know?! Is he on his way with a gun?!”

Steve’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, choking on his words for a few seconds. “No! No, not Nat, I swear!”

Peter calms down, running a hand over his face. “Thank god. I thought I was going to have to help you get into the witness protection program or something.”

Steve laughs weakly, but he shakes his head again. “No, no, not her. She was…busy, with Clint, actually. Told me to go away. So I went…”

Peter quirks a brow, locking eyes with a scared looking Steve. “Yes? Who did you go to?”

“To Tony.”

Peter’s heart stops. He can feel his stomach drop, and a cold sweat break out. His neck burns, and his fingers go numb. “And?” He croaks. “What, you slept with his girl of the week?”

Steve looks guilty, but he can’t seem to break eye contact with Peter. “No.”

Peter feels like a million emotions go through him at once. Jealousy. Confusion. Irritation. Jealousy. Anger. Joy. Jealousy. But the biggest one is just pure sadness. Since when does Tony sleep with guys? Since when does Tony sleep with guys like Steve? What’s so wrong with Peter that Tony would rather sleep with a guy he only puts up with because Natasha tells him to? Why didn’t Tony tell Peter he was bi? When did Peter become someone who mattered so little to his best friend, that this is a situation he has to hear about from the last person he ever thought he would hear about anything regarding Tony from?

And why does Peter still care? He’s been dating Wade for over a month now, shouldn’t he have moved on?

“Oh,” Peter whispers, still locking eyes with the older boy.

Steve squirms, face pink. He obviously wants to look away, but feels like he can’t for some reason. “Peter, I-“

“Just now?” Peter asks, voice cracking. “You slept with him and, what? Your first thought was to tell me?”

“Peter, please,” Steve begs. “I didn’t even mean to, I just-“

Peter laughs at that, humorless and bark-like. “What, you slipped and fell on his dick?”

Steve winces, eyes begging. “That isn’t what—I mean—it’s not—I didn’t—I was just upset, and he was there! I wasn’t thinking!”

Peter works his jaw, fingers tapping on his desk. “Why did you tell me? Out of everyone in our friend group, why me?”

“You know why,” Steve begs, voice desperate.

Peter laughs humorlessly again, and he’s surprised to feel a tear make its way down his cheek. “You’re cruel,” Peter whispers.

Steve winces. “No, I didn’t mean to-“

“You wanted to make yourself feel less guilty, clear your conscience, so you hurt me to make yourself feel better. It’s none of my god damn business who you sleep with, or who he sleeps with anymore! He hasn’t spoken to me in a month! I’m dating Wade, we aren’t even friends anymore, there is no reason you should have told me this.” Peter finally gives Steve pity, breaking eye contact and looking at his own lap.

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve whispers carefully. “I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Peter sniffles, standing and wiping his face quickly. “Yeah, well, the next time you sleep with him, ask him if he’s done torturing me will you? I’m tired of being treated like this.” Peter walks out, not bothering to close the door behind him. After all, Steve has to leave soon anyway.

~

“You ditched me,” Wade says, plopping down in front of Peter in the cafeteria the next day. Peter jumps and looks up, trying to hide how miserable he feels. “You said you would come over. There I was, hanging out with my blue balls, waiting for the prettiest boy on campus to show up, and-nada. Not even a text.”

Peter forces a smile, but he knows it doesn’t look real. “Sorry, the talk with Steve…distracted me. I—I had a lot on my mind after.”

“Do I need to be jealous?” Wade asks, picking up on the bad vibes but not quite able to pick out what they really are.

Peter snorts, stabbing his salad with his fork so hard it goes through the styrofoam. “Of Steve? Fuck no.”

Wade is quiet for a second. “Should I be jealous of who he slept with?”

Peter chokes, looking up with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

Wade puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m just asking! You found out he slept with someone and now you’re all sad. Unless he slept with your aunt, in which case-“

“Ew, no.” Peter shakes his head, putting his fork down. “No. He just…he broke a friend code, and I’m-“

“You don’t have any exes,” Wade says, frowning. “The only friend code when it comes to sex is to not sleep with a friend’s ex.”

Peter gives him an irritated look. “Are you going to let me explain, or are you going to keep guessing?”

Wade frowns, crossing his arms.

“No, be my guest!” Peter says saltily. “Go ahead and just accuse me of what you’re dying to. Go on. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Wade snarls. “I’m not accusing you!”

“You want to! That’s what you’re hinting at!” Peter argues.

Wade huffs. “Fine! I think you’re upset because Steve slept with Tony, and you’re in love with Tony.”

Peter works his jaw. He’s half upset that Wade knows him so well, and half upset that Wade is this mad about it. “Are you done?”

Wade shrinks back at the words. Everyone knows those words are dangerous. “Yes.”

“Tony was my best friend, and he hasn’t spoken to me since…over a month.” Peter huffs in annoyance. “Steve and Tony don’t like each other, but they slept together. And what does Steve do? Stick up for me? Ask Tony why he’s being an ass to me? Encourage us to make up? No, he runs to me and tells me they’ve slept together. Tony hates me so much, that he apparently stopped having room to hate Steve fucking Rogers. And I still don’t know what I did wrong!” Peter stands up, and Wade looks at him with sad eyes. “But yeah, let’s add ‘first fight with boyfriend’ to the list of things to go wrong in my life, that’s fun.”

Wade stands up, grabbing Peter’s arm to stop him from going. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Peter spits, yanking his arm back. He starts storming off towards his next class, throwing away his trash on his way.

“I said I’m sorry!” Wade follows Peter, jogging a bit to catch up. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have assumed anything, I’m an asshole. A massive dickwad. A right prick. A real-“

Peter can’t help his smile, and he shoves Wade playfully. “Shut up,” he laughs softly.

Wade grins, pulling Peter into a hug. “Why don’t you come to my practice tonight? The last game before break is Friday, and so we’re really going over time with it. Plus Thor will be there, you know, so-“

Peter kisses Wade softly on the lips, just to shut him up. “Okay. I’ll be there. I have that test to get to though, so-“

“That class doesn’t start for another half hour,” Wade grins.

“I have to get there early!” Peter gasps, pretending to be scandalized. “How else am I supposed to get my last minute cramming in?”

Wade shakes his head fondly and kisses Peter again, pushing some hair behind his ear. “Nerd. Okay, go study. I’ll see you tonight.”

~

Peter winces as he watches a guy tackle Wade to the ground, picking at his nails. “Jesus, that guy is going hard…does he realize they’re on the same team?”

Jane laughs fondly, looking up from her notes. “That’s Beck, Thor says he’s a real asshole. He’s pissed that he’s basically a bench boy, coach never puts him on.”

Peter nods, as if he understood any of that. “Well, he better not bruise my boyfriend, his face is far too pretty for that.”

Jane giggles again, smiling at Peter. “How are things going between you two by the way? Thor says you’re super cute together during get togethers.”

Peter blushes a bit, turning away from the practice to look at her. “We’re good! We had our first fight today, but obviously we made up.”

Jane grins knowingly. “Ah, the first fight. I look back fondly on those days.”

Peter laughs at that, trying to find Thor in the crowd of boys on the field. “He talks about me?”

“Yeah, he talks about all of you,” she says, a fond smile on her face. “He keeps trying to make me go to those things, and I keep disappointing him,” she laughs again. “He doesn’t realize how much time a doctorate takes.” Peter nods, letting the silence sit for a minute. “He told me about Tony,” she adds, almost as if she’s treading.

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

She nods. “Yeah, says he’s being a dick lately. To everyone, but mostly you.”

Peter sags a bit. “Yeah…he hates me now, for some reason.”

Jane takes Peter’s hand, squeezing it softly. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

Peter frowns. “What?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning shyly. “Thor says that Tony really just needs to tell you something, and doesn’t know how. I won’t say what though, it’s not my place.”

Peter is quiet for a moment, watching the violence below before speaking. “Why doesn’t he just say it?”

Jane sighs, letting go of Peter’s hand and grabbing her notes. “Sometimes, you need a little help. Maybe you could talk to him first?” She suggests. The coach blows the whistle, and the team breaks it up to go to the locker rooms.

Peter hums. “Maybe…what if he’s still an asshole?”

Jane shrugs. “When Thor‘s brother is an asshole, we just keep bugging him until he gives in. Then it’s all good again.” She stands, gathering her things and stretching.

Peter stands with her, walking to the bleacher stairs. “I guess I could try that…hey—thanks, Jane. I’m glad we could talk.”

Jane beans at him, clutching her notes and books to her chest. “Me too! I would say any time, but to be honest, I get a little mean when I’m focused, so.”

Peter giggles and watches his feet so he won’t trip. “Fair.”

~

Peter takes a deep breath, shaking his hands to get rid of some nerves.

It’s the last Friday before break, and Peter knows most of his friends plan on going home for Thanksgiving. Including Tony.

“Just knock,” Peter whispers to himself, forming a fist and hovering it above the door. “Worst case, he tells you to fuck off, and nothing changes.”

Peter lets out another breath and finally knocks.

The door opens, and Tony’s smile disappears into a scowl. “What?”

Peter swallows thickly, wiping the sweat off of his hands on his shirt. “What did I do to make you hate me?”

Tony blinks, seemingly shocked by the bluntness. “What?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Because—because we were totally fine one day and then the next you—you literally hate me. Can’t stand to be around me. Call me annoying and clingy and ignore me and…” Peter feels tears build in his eyes, but suddenly he can’t stop talking. “And you’re my best friend, Tony. No one knows me half as good as you do, and I’m so fucking lonely. Everyone else tries, and they’re good friends! But they aren’t you, and I just-“ Peter hiccups, feeling a tear finally fall down his cheek. “And then you sleep with Steve Rogers, which is just—he’s—and I—“

Tony’s arms uncross, and he reaches out as if you touch Peter. “Wait-“

“And honestly you being bi or whatever, I should have known first! But of course you wouldn’t want to tell me, because I did something to make you hate me.”

“Wait.”

“And I thought it was because you found out I’m in love with you, but you were normal for a couple weeks after that, so I thought that wasn’t it. And then the thought crossed my mind that you thought it was a joke, until I started dating Wade. And then I thought maybe you were homophobic-“

“That’s not-“

“But then you sleep with Steve Rogers. A boy. Not just any boy, a boy you hate and who hates you and who you definitely wouldn’t want to date-“

“Parker.”

“And then I wondered, did you do that to hurt me too? On top of everything else? Like are you trying to send the message that you’ll sleep with literally everyone except for me? Because, message received, loud and clear.”

“Again, that’s not-“

“But that still doesn’t tell me what I did to make you hate me in the first place, so I’m still stuck on that. Because I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Tony! I can’t stand you hating me! I can’t—I can’t!” He chokes on a sob, and Tony’s hands do come up to grab Peter’s arms. “I can’t do it anymore, so just tell me what I did so I can fucking apologize and you can fucking stop hating me because I hate my life if you aren’t in it and you’re being a fucking dick and pushing away all your other friends and-“

“Peter!” Tony yells, effectively shutting the younger boy up.

Peter sniffles, one hand coming up to wipe his tears away. “What?”

“I don’t hate you,” Tony starts, breaking eye contact and staring at Peter’s feet.

“Then why-“

“Because I’m an idiot!” Tony yells, tightening his grip on Peter’s arms. “I’m an idiot and I don’t know how to handle my feelings or how to communicate like a human person and I-I…I don’t like that you’re dating Wilson.”

Peter blinks, sniffling occasionally. “I-I don’t understand. What’s-“

“I like you, Peter. But I’m not allowed to, for a lot of reasons—the biggest one being you’re dating someone else, but…but I like you, okay? I have for a really long time.”

Peter winces a bit, confusion and sadness taking over. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? Why didn’t you say anything before me and Wade got serious?”

“Because even if you were single, I can’t date you.” Tony pulls away, looking into Peter’s eyes again. “I’m me, and you’re you.”

Peter furrows his brow, nose scrunching up. “What the hell does that mean?”

Tony sighs, rubbing his forehead. “My father is Howard Stark. I’m rich, and an heir, and proper and I’m expected to marry some other rich and proper and heiress girl and have 2.5 kids and live a scandal free life. And you’re…”

Peter works his jaw angrily. “I’m a nobody from queens who can’t afford food half the time. I’m not good enough.”

Tony looks down again, crossing his arms. “Not according to my father.”

Peter scoffs, new tears welling in his eyes. “Wow.”

Tony sighs again, scratching the back of his head. “I’m allowed to sleep with whoever I want, god knows he did. But I have to marry-“

“Someone better than me.” Peter finishes.

“Yeah,” Tony says sadly. And Peter fights the urge to punch Tony in his god damn nose.

“Well,” Peter says, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I’m such a fucking worthless nobody.”

Tony sighs again, almost whining. “Come on, Peter, I don’t think-“

“You know what?” Peter interrupts. “You are an idiot. Wade treats me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He treats me like I’m a god damn prize, like he can’t believe someone like me would agree to date him.”

Tony looks into Peter’s eyes, guilt and sadness making Peter angrier.

“No, I’m so glad you don’t hate me. What a relief to find out that you don’t hate me, you just think I’m a worthless nobody!” He pushes Tony backwards, angry tears stinging his eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up!”

“That isn’t what I meant, come up!” Tony reaches for Peter, but the younger boy steps back.

“What did you mean by that, then?!” Peter asks desperately, not wanting to believe it. Not wanting to believe that the man who knows Peter more than anything only sees the worst in him.

“I…” Tony looks down again, voice trailing off into nothing.

“Right,” Peter says after a minute of silence, wiping his tears away again. “Have a great break,” he says instead of the insults he wants to lob at Tony, and marches away with his shoulders slumped.

A small part of him hoped Tony would chase after him, but he doesn’t even call for Peter to wait.

[thelittlestbat]

My hoodies - Jinx and Vi (Arcane)

Even though 2022 didn't start too well (my mom had to undergo a surgery and then I ended up on quarantine ORZ) I was able to start working on a few new designs. I am so happy to sew again, words can't describe how badly I missed this! ;u; I still have a lot of remaining matters to resolve and all but creating new stuff gives me so much energy and that is something I really needed ORZ Anyway, I guess there's not a person who haven't watched or at least heard about Arcane. My Jinx hoodie is still one of my favorite out of all I've made and I couldn't miss this opportunity to make a sweater based on her redesign! For Vi I didn't care much until the show came out - praise its creators for developing her character so much throughout the series, plus her signature jacket was just SCREAMING to be used as a reference ❤ Hope you guys are gonna like these and they're both available here!

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply. 

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII  / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost three months into his new life, Peter was finally able to establish a routine that worked for him. He woke up around nine in the morning, tried to get some sort of exercise done, usually yoga or a jog around the block, then he had breakfast by himself, because both Ned and MJ had class or work before he was even up. After that, he made sure to post something on Just4fans, so people could see it throughout the day, and answered private messages and comments from the night before. Lastly, he headed to his newly created Twitter account to promote the new content and to interact with people there as well – it was a great way to get new subscribers.

That usually took up most of his morning, then he went downstairs to Ned and MJ’s apartment for lunch. He usually ate with at least one of them, except for Mondays and Wednesdays, when neither was home, but even then he ate at their place since he didn’t own any kitchen appliances yet – it was on the priority list, but not that high up, he liked having an excuse to visit his friends every day.

Later, he headed back upstairs and, depending on the day, he would take new pictures and videos or edit the ones he took the day before. Finally, at night, he posted more content on his Just4fans and chatted with his subscribers until it was time for bed.

In the last week of April, on one of his morning jogs, he noticed that just a few blocks away from his building there was a charity called the Bright Future Foundation. He thought the name sounded familiar, but try as he may, he couldn’t remember where he had heard of them. It was only after running past it a few times that it clicked – Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, told Peter to look it up.

The Bright Future Foundation helped kids who aged out of foster care get their lives together. They offered support in the form of scholarships and grants, academic and personal mentoring, and help with internships and employment readiness skills. That was what their website said, as Peter vaguely remembered from his high school years, when he still planned on going to college.

He went inside one day, not really sure why, and when the front desk lady asked how she could help him he just stood there for a few minutes, silent and nervous. She asked if he wanted to learn about their programs, but he shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. The woman waited patiently, a motherly smile on her face, until Peter asked if they needed any help.

And that was how volunteering at BFF became a part of his new routine – every Thursday from nine to five, starting in the first week of May. Since it was just a few blocks away from his place, he could walk there instead of taking the subway.

He liked his new routine, it was tiring but it didn’t leave a lot of time for overthinking or ruminating on the past. He never felt lonely because Ned and MJ were always around and he actually made a few friends among his subscribers, which was nice.

For the first time in a while, Peter was feeling happy. And it wasn’t an elaborate, fragile sort of happiness, where things needed to be in perfect place for the feeling to be felt, no. It was the simplest kind of happiness: he had friends, a job, a place to crash and everything was fine. Nothing was perfect, but it was fine.

A few days after he sent Tony the lingerie pictures, he decided to send him the video. He was a little insecure about it, it was 13 minutes long after editing and Peter had really lost it for a minute there, one could clearly tell. He was gone for most of the video, a moaning mess, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, begging for something – someone – that wasn’t even there. It either looked ridiculous or fucking hot depending on the person watching, and even though he was pretty sure Tony would not think it was ridiculous, he still worried just a little, but he sent it anyway. It was still early in the day when he did, some time around noon, and he didn’t expect him to answer any time soon, so went on with his day.

Tony messaged him around 2AM, as usual, but there was no text, just three videos in the chat. In the first one, it looked like he was wearing a suit, he could see the dress pants pulled down and the white shirt pulled up as Tony jacked off for thirty seconds before he came all over his hand. It looked like he was in a bathroom stall, sitting on a toilet, and Peter bit his lower lip, wondering if he was at work when the video was taken.

The second video was similar to the first, but it looked like he was in a garage or something like that – probably the workshop he always talked about –, Peter could see a black shirt bunched up around his waist and sweatpants around his thighs.

Last but not least there was a video of him completely naked, lying in bed, and the video was shot from Tony’s point of view, like he was holding his cell phone close to his face, looking down, instead of propping it up in front of him like he usually did.

They were all incredible and delicious and got Peter rock hard in a second. The boy got comfortable on the bed, lay on his back, took off his pajama bottoms and sighed when his cock sprung free, shivering a little when the chilly night air touched his heated skin. He planted his feet on the mattress and spread his legs, but didn’t do more than that yet.

“That good?” He messaged Tony, cheekily, and the older man started typing right away.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole entire life and I’m 48, so yeah. That good.”

Hm, forty-eight. So Peter wasn’t wrong in his assumption. He bit his lower lip, a rush of excitement running through his veins. Tony was so much older, almost thirty years his senior. Peter supposed he must be really experienced. He wondered if he usually hooked up with younger men or if in real life he only dated women – it wouldn’t be a shock – but most of all, he wondered what he looked like. Maybe he dyed his hair, but if he didn’t, it was probably mostly gray and fuck Peter if he didn’t have a thing for that.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You broke me. I was in the middle of a meeting when you sent that video, I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to watch it. What have you done to me, witch?” Peter wanted to laugh, but it got stuck in the back of his throat with a moan when he slid a hand to his lower abdomen and his cock stood to attention.

“I don’t know about that, but your videos sure got me horny as fuck.” He rolled his hips a little, humping the air, and finally gave in to himself, holding his cock in one hand and the cellphone in the other.

“Is that so?” He could almost hear his voice through the phone – soft, but powerful. He always imagined Tony would sound like that if they ever talked face to face.

“Yes, daddy” And that would always be his default answer to anything he might ask with that voice. He closed his eyes for a second, quickening the pace of his strokes just a little, when his phone beeped again.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, daddy” Peter shivered, imagining Tony’s reaction to that revelation.

“Can I hear you, baby boy?”

He didn’t even hesitate, he started recording a voice message and moaned into the phone, thrusting his hips against his fist as he quietly begged for Tony’s cock, his fingers, his mouth, anything, he just wanted the man to be there taking care of him, making him cum, that was all he wanted, and he wanted it so badly.

He came in just a few seconds and hit send on the voice message before he could overthink it. As he lay there, breathless, staring at the ceiling and trying to gather his strength, he fantasized about Tony listening to it. He smiled to himself, like an idiot, then his cellphone beeped, bringing him back to reality.

“You’re gonna drive me mad, you know that? I’m actually going insane and it’s all your fault. Also, my dick is gonna fall off and that’s on you, too.” Peter had the presence of mind to laugh at the message, but it took him a few seconds to gather enough energy to write back to him.

“That’s a serious accusation, Tony, I’m gonna need all the evidence I can get, so every time you touch yourself thinking of me, make sure to send me proof, ok?”

“Oh, you don’t know what you just got yourself into.” Again, Peter could only laugh, because judging by the amount of videos Tony sent him that day, he really was in for a treat.

Days later, on Friday, Peter got up early to go for his usual jog around the block. He was a little tired from the day before, still adjusting to his new routine at BFF – it was his third week there and they were starting to realize that Peter was a quick learner and very eager to help, so they took advantage of that, which was fine with him, he was thrilled to be able to help somehow.

So after a quick, half-assed jog around the block, he went back home, showered and decided to take the rest of the pictures Tony asked for. The man was still going nuts over the video, he wouldn’t stop talking about it and every day there was a video of him finishing himself off in their chat and Peter could hear his own voice in the background, screaming Tony’s name.

It was both embarrassing as fuck and hot as hell, so the younger man also spent a lot of those last few days in the shower trying to cool down, but Tony was not making it easier.

As much fun as that was, he was curious to see how Tony would react to the new pictures. He realized that would be the first time the older man would see him with clothes on, which sounded ridiculous, but it was true. He didn’t have many pictures on Instagram, but most of them were selfies and there were just a few where it was possible to see maybe a hint of a shirt, but that was it.

So he took the outfit he and MJ picked out and winced, remembering how much it cost, but at least he picked out clothes he might wear some day – if he had a meeting with the queen of England, for example. He put on the light gray suit by Hugo Boss, with a pink shirt with big, white dots by Levi’s Vintage underneath, black dress shoes by Brunello Cucinelli and a Gucci watch he was able to find on sale for half the original price. The whole outfit was worth around five thousand dollars, and was definitely the most money he had ever spent on – well, anything.

He checked himself in the mirror and snorted a little, he sure looked like a spoiled brat, which was probably what Tony meant by “expensive and beautiful”, so that was fine. He styled his hair so it looked effortlessly tousled, but not too much, and set his camera to take the pictures by the living room window.

He took a few pictures on the windowsill, some other leaning against the glass with his hands in his pockets, a few others looking out the window. He posed on his armchair, too, which was the only piece of furniture he had in his living room at the moment and he wished he had a decent dining table so he could pose like he was on a date with the camera, but he supposed those would do.

Once he was satisfied with what he got, he took off the clothes, put them away and went downstairs to have lunch with Ned and MJ. For the first time since he moved in with them, they both had Friday afternoon off, so they spent it together, eating junk food, watching bad TV series and playing really old tabletop games Ned had brought with him when he moved from his parents’ house.  

In between a game of Monopoly and Scrabble, Peter pulled his phone out to check his messages, and was surprised to find one from Tony, sent just a few minutes earlier. He checked the time and noticed he must still be at work, so he opened it, assuming it couldn’t be anything too sexual.

“Hey, are you feeling better today? Just checking in.”

Peter frowned for a second, but a quick look at their earlier messages reminded him that he was feeling a little under the weather the day before and he’d told Tony that before he went to bed.

“Hi, Tony! I’m all better now, thanks for asking. I guess it was just allergies or something.”

He didn’t expect Tony to answer right away, but as soon as his message was sent, he started typing.  

“That’s good to hear, but you need to be a little more careful with your health, kitten. Just yesterday you said you had an apple for lunch. At 4PM.”

“You’re one to talk.” Peter snorted. They always berated each other for poor eating habits. Peter was a 20 year-old bachelor living by himself and sharing meals with his equally young and dumb friends, so pizza was on the menu more often than not; Tony was a forty-eight year-old businessman with too little time to care. “Did you even eat today?”

“Don’t try to turn this around, this isn’t about me.” Peter rolled his eyes and smiled to himself. “Did you do anything fun today?”

“I took some pictures for you, it was quite fun.” He knew the mention of new pictures would get him interested in a minute.

“Don’t play with my heart, kid. When can I see them?”

“I don’t know...” He teased just a little, because he knew Tony wasn’t above begging and it was fun to watch.

“Don’t be mean to daddy, come on. He’s always so good to you.” Peter smiled, because, yeah. He was.

“I’ll send them tonight, I promise.” He decided, since they would have more time to talk then, if he sent the pictures earlier, Tony would still be at work and Peter would still be at his friends’.

“Good boy.”

“You know I am.”

“What are you smiling about? Who are you talking to?” Ned looked suspiciously at him, so he quickly put the phone down and shook his head with a nervous smile.

“Just a subscriber with a bad one-liner.”

MJ looked at him like she knew a secret, but Ned just shrugged and finished setting up the game.  They ended up calling it a draw and ordering pizza afterwards, but Peter went back home early because both Ned and MJ had work the next morning.

Once he got upstairs, he went to edit Tony’s pictures and since it was still a little early to send them, he decided to check his twitter DMs. He didn’t read them very often, he already had his plate full with JustForFans, but every once in a while he checked them and answered as many as he could. Most of the messages were dick pics anyway, he just ignored those. Some others were people being nosy and asking way too personal questions, or worse, asking about Beck. He learned how to talk his way around those, but one message in particular stood out and really got to him.  

“I’m so glad you’re doing okay, honey! The way Beck is with his new boy now makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. He sure moved on quickly. You’re better off without him anyway, I always liked you better.”

That sort of comment wasn’t exactly unusual, but that second part caught him a little off guard. Makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. It just – why would she say that?  The way Beck is with his new boy. What way, exactly? What could he possibly be doing that made that person assume Beck never even loved him? People thought they were perfect together, they said it all the time, so much so that Peter himself was almost convinced of it for most of their relationship, so why in the hell would anyone think he loved this other guy more? To the point of assuming he didn’t even love Peter in the first place?

He was a masochist, he decided, as he opened Instagram. And not even the good kind of masochist, because there wasn’t any pleasure involved in what he was about to do, just pain. He unblocked Beck’s profiled and fucking looked. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but just looking at the first picture was enough to make him realize it was a terrible fucking idea. It was a black and white picture of him and the new guy cuddling in bed, kissing with soft smiles on their faces, captioned: “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Peter closed the app quickly, he didn’t need to see that. It meant nothing.

That picture meant nothing. That caption meant nothing. Because Beck was a fucking liar, a fucking actor, a fucking illusionist, a fucking – artist. He painted beautiful pictures, he weaved beautiful words, but none of that meant anything. Because it never meant anything when it was Peter in his arms, so why would–

Fuck, he should be over him, so fucking over him. But he really wasn’t, he would go back to that toxic environment if Beck snapped his fingers and that was scary to know. It was fucking terrifying to realize he was one text away from crawling back to him, even after all the humiliation, even after Beck just fucking up and left him with nothing – nothing –  he would still go right back to his arms. He still wanted to go right back to his arms.

It made him feel pathetic and weak because he knew that what they had was toxic and abusive. And he had known that for a while, way before they split up. Deep in his soul, he knew he was living a nightmare, day after day, over and over again, but he couldn’t fucking leave. He thought Beck was all he had. He promised him forever. He promised he would always be there for him. He was all Peter had in life, and he had lost so fucking much over the years, he couldn’t afford to lose anybody else.

But he did, didn’t he? He lost Beck. He was in someone else’s arms right that second, professing his undying, fake love.

Peter took a deep breath and held it a few seconds, then exhaled slowly.

He didn’t lose anything, he was set free. He was free and he had a record to break – it had been three days since he last cried about that asshole and he didn’t plan to ruin it.

He closed Instagram and went to his Just4Fans. He posted a few pictures from a phoshoot he did earlier that week that made him feel sexy and confident, which was the opposite of how he felt at that moment, but he was going to fake it until he made it.

In a few minutes, he got lots of comments and private messages with compliments, but somehow none of them was enough to fill the empty spot Beck left when he dumped him.

Well, none except for one.

“Were you planning on giving an old man a heart attack today? ‘Cause that’s how you give an old man a heart attack.” The silly message got a smile out of him, and that was a lot considering how broken he felt.

“Lol. It wasn’t in my plans, no, but now I’m worried. Is the old man okay?” He joked, and immediately got an answer in his inbox.

“He’s waiting for you to keep your promise. Says he refuses to die before he sees some pictures of you? Do you happen to know anything about that?” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, I think I know what he’s talking about. Hold on a sec.”

He selected his ten favorite pictures with the date outfit and sent them to Tony, feeling butterflies in his stomach for reasons he couldn’t explain. He lay in bed for several minutes, staring at his phone, waiting for an answer, but the older man didn’t say anything, even though Peter could see he was still online. He started to get a little anxious, worried that he had messed up somehow, so he messaged him again.

“Well? Have I finally rendered the old man speechless?”

Almost at the same time as he sent his message, Tony replied:

“I need to see you.”

Peter’s heart almost jumped out of his mouth when he read those words, eyes widening in shock. I need to see you. He read it a few more times to make sure it meant what he thought it meant. It couldn’t possibly – Tony wouldn’t want to meet him. That would be absurd. He was – well, Peter wasn’t sure, but he sounded important most of the time, he was definitely very rich, very hardworking and he seemed like a really nice guy. So really, why would he want to meet Peter. That made absolutely no sense, obviously he meant something different than that, he just didn’t quite know what–

“Please,” said the next message, just a few seconds later.

Peter bit his lower lip, feeling his face grow warmer. Just for the hell of it, he thought – what if Tony did mean he wanted to meet him? What then? Peter couldn’t say yes, that would be insane. He didn’t even know the man, all he knew were little things about his daily life, he didn’t know his last name, if he had a family, if he was married, if he was a psychopath – he didn’t even know what he looked like!

Still, he fantasized about saying yes. But that was just a fantasy. He couldn’t do it, that would be crazy.

Right?

“You won’t regret it, I’ll treat you right.”

Well, fuck. He had to go straight for his Achilles’s heel, huh.

Peter kept staring at the bright screen of his phone, breathing slowly to try to contain his wild heart that seemed adamant to burst out of his chest cavity in the next few minutes. He didn’t know what to say. No, his brain supplied, like it was obvious, because it was, right? He couldn’t say yes, yes was not a viable answer. He had to say no, it was only a matter of how he would say it without hurting the older man’s ego.

But.

Why exactly did he have to say no? He knew there were ate least 99 good answers to that question, but he couldn’t think of one, so–

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” Peter asked, even though he wasn’t really worried about that, it was the last thing on his mind, to be honest.

“You’ll know.” He said, plain and simple, and not helpful at all. And still, no flight response whatsoever from Peter’s brain. His stupid mind couldn’t seem to understand that that was clearly a terrible idea.“We’ll meet in a restaurant, the best in New York, and nothing else has to happen, I promise. We’ll have a nice dinner and that’s it. I just need to see you in person.”

That sounded reasonable, didn’t it? A public place, lots of eyes on them. If Tony turned out to be a creep, he could just leave. At the very worst, he’d be disappointed and lose a very generous subscriber; at the very best, he’d get a good meal out of it and who knew what else. It sounded reasonable. So it was probably reasonable.

Right?

“Can I wear this outfit?” He asked, because, well, that was all he had to wear to New York City’s best restaurant – whatever that was.

“You must, baby.” He answered quickly, and Peter smiled to himself. “So I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

He typed a quick yes, but didn’t send it right away. He gave his brain a few seconds to come up with reasons to say no, because he knew there were good reasons for that, but he really, honestly, just wanted to say–  

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He replied right away, as if he had been staring at the phone, waiting for his answer. “I’ll set a time and place and let you know. You won’t regret it, Peter.”

Peter loved all the pet names Tony gave him, they were all sweet and funny, but when he called him by his actual name, it just hit different. It felt good. Like he wasn’t just a pretty picture in a porn app, an expensive hobby, but a person. It was hard for him to remember that, sometimes.

Some other times, it felt good to forget.

[z3nitsusgf]

hte moment i saw your post about arcane i had to come to your inbox and babble about arcane because i love it so much oh my god

ALSO theres going to be alot of arcane spoilers so !!

FIRST THE ANIMATION IS SO GOOS?? IM SO INLOVE oh my god riot did so well with this Omfg AND arcane season 2 is in the making and IM SO EXCITED HOLY SHIT

NEXT CAITVI?? oh my god im absolutely so gay for them especially vi omg Oh my god shes so fine and Caitlyn i want them to Just sandwich me PLEASE

AND AND VIKTOR oh my god i love my boy so much his story really touched me and i feel so bad for him bc of what happened w sky </3

AND JINX im so ?!-?-$ CONFUSED AB MY FEELINGS FOR HER VERY MIXED FEELINGS ATM!! but i really just wanna give her a hug, she went through so many things and she didn’t deserve that ): AND SILCO TOO i really feel like he didnt take jinx in to exploit her and use her as a weapon yk but took her in as a daughter and i was just shattered when the scene where silco died n he said that jinx was perfect IM SOBBING

OF COURSE EKKO TOO i love the boy so much hes so pretty oh my

OVERALL IM JUST SO HAPPY W ARCANE i love it so much oh my god ANYWAYS WHATS UR OPINION ON ARCANE !!

— 🍒 [ sorry if its a bit long Um .. I just love arcane alot ]

MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut for arcane league of legends, so if you haven't finished or still want to watch - please read at your own discretion. (Also it’s hella long I’m so sorry about that, I love this show sm 😭)

Animation- I absolutely loved the styling and design that riot picked for animating arcane, it was not only so beautiful to look at - it was a breath of fresh air in comparison to other animated shows that are out there. It's fluid and fun and just so fucking cool, I know it’s kind of a marketing ploy but goddamn does it make me want to play league of legends.

You’re right, they nailed the animation and details in the show, down to the coloring of the stained glass and the lights reflecting off the wet ground in the undercity, it’s stunning. Character design and atmospheric worldbuilding are a big deal to me when I watch animated shows, if the design is [to be quite blunt] ugly, then I don't watch - or I don't make it very far in the show because it is distracting it me when the show is, in my opinion, ugly or poorly done.

So shows like Big Mouth are really hit or miss - the crude humor plays up the even cruder design of the show and it gives me second hand embarrassment that makes it impossible to get through.

CaitVi >>>> for the fucking win. Good representation of Sapphic and LGBTQ relationships and community without making it a big deal or making it queerbaiting, I adore it. Cait is also just a great character, she makes you understand the topside and even sympathize with it - and you can't help but drool at how hot the two of them are. Vi is a brilliant design and her parallels to Vander and Powder are fucking heartbreaking, the way you can just tell she aches and burns to reconcile (all over a misunderstanding) and she knows that it’s too late, just ugh 😣.

Jinx - the discussions of grief, found family, depression, PTSD are all so intricately woven into the story with Jinx/Powder's plotline and her character arc with Silco and her refusal so let go of her past with those words Vi said to her that night. Her plunging mental state that worsens each arc and we can see her diving into that pit of lonely self hatred that breeds nothing but pure destruction. (The details of her recreating Mylo and Clogger in her room also pack a sickening punch) 

God and the the turmoil Arcane does of getting you attached to these minor characters and then ripping them away from you is brutal. Mylo and Clogger’s death was so sort of expected but it wasn’t ya know? And knowing they were on the brink of escape if Powder hadn’t used the tech makes it so much more painful, I think I was screaming at my TV for a solid 10 minutes lmao. And the brutality that is Silco when he stabs Vander in the back - because it whats he’s always needed to do, and what he’s always wanted to do, but you still hold your breath because god, how could Vander die too?

Silco is another amazingly crafted villain. In the beginning, I thought Silco was sort of grooming Powder to be his weapon, and at moments I think it definitely felt that way, he took advantage of her when she was most vulnerable and broken and molded her to be this vindictive and sadistic version of her former self. Not to mention he calls her Jinx - the very reminder of her failures and that she’s been abandoned. 

Arcane as a whole does a brilliant job of weaving every story together and not leaving a single character out, it makes you invested to the max. Like with Councilor Madarda, I’ve grown to absolutely love her and root for her and wish her everything she wants with Jayce and her family.

Viktor - And god, Viktor my sweet boy makes me want to hug him and fucking show him he’s worth so much more - he’s so incredibly sweet and good, and I think the scene with Sky shows that he’s not a bad person and his intentions aren’t bad at all.

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Wilder: Amir’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides to flee Ziya alone. A rotund wine merchant named Barlow offers her a timely rescue, smuggling her out in one of the wagons in his caravan. On their journey across the Shining Sands MC learns that Barlow is a wealthy and ambitious man who can afford not only a team of djinn guards but even a pleasure slave. It is this pleasure slave who warns MC that Barlow intends to ransom her back to Ziya and urges her to leave the caravan. Though MC suspects the surly Jamal just wants to no longer share his wagon, she takes his advice and flees from Barlow under cover of darkness.

CHAPTER I:

A sandstorm drives MC up into the Western Hills. There she is captured by a tribe of wild djinn and presented to the tribe's chief, Amir, who takes great interest in her and decides, instead of killing her, to keep her as some sort of prisoner. MC cannot understand the djinn tongue and Amir cannot speak hers, and so their interactions are fraught with misunderstandings, frustration, and mistrust.

As her time with the tribe passes MC is treated with contempt by most of them, attempts an unsuccessful escape, and continues to butt heads with Amir – an arrogant man-child with no manners as far as she can tell. She also meets Hani – an older ex-slave who is also an outcast among the tribe. Hani speaks both the human and djinn tongue and, being a kind woman, starts translating for MC and Amir. As MC and Amir start trying by themselves to learn parts of each other's language, their relationship begins to slowly improve.

Every night after dinner Amir will tell animated, theatrical tales for the enjoyment of his tribe, while Hani translates them for MC. Hani also teaches her things about the tribe, such as the fact that Amir went from orphan to the youngest and strongest rahki (chief) in the Hills, and how MC should watch out for Amir's closest friend, the hateful and vicious Kherga.

CHAPTER II:

Amir decrees that MC is no longer a captive but a guest of the tribe, allowing her freedom to move about the camp. This is an unpopular decision among his people, especially with Kherga. As the days and weeks pass, MC spends time with many of the tribe, pitching in with chores, and finds that not only is she growing stronger and hardier but that some of the tribe members seem to be warming to her – and she to them.

One morning a hunting party, led by Kherga, is about to head out. Amir impulsively invites MC to join, to Kherga's disgust. MC fails rather spectacularly at hunting a wild boar and cuts her legs on an undergrowth of thorns – the hunters find this uproariously funny. Amir takes MC to a nearby river where she can wash her injury while he leaps into the water and splashes around like a child. He tries to coax her in as well and is dismayed to learn that she cannot swim. In turn, MC learns that Amir is picking up the human tongue much quicker than she the djinn tongue. He acts the immature fool, but he is very intelligent and an enthusiastic learner.

After bonding, the two return to camp. The atmosphere turns dark. Kherga holds court and has been whipping the tribe into an angry frenzy. MC doesn't need to speak the language to know that her continued presence here is the main cause of contention. Kherga challenges Amir's leadership and the two fight. But when some of the djinn grab MC in the chaos, Amir immediately abandons the challenge to force them to release her. As the tribe surrounds the two of them it is clear that Amir has lost his place as chief. He throws MC over his shoulder and runs, pursued by his former brothers and sisters, until he reaches the mountains known as the Knives – a place where the tribe will not follow.

CHAPTER III:

As soon as they are clear of the tribe Amir just stops and sits on the ground, shattered by disbelief and grief. MC believes the coup to be her fault but Amir is quietly firm that it is his. They have nowhere to go but forward, so they journey on. Amir is despondent and distracted; entirely unlike the djinn that MC had been getting to know.

Suddenly Amir goes entirely still, alert in a way he hasn't been for days now. He has sensed Hamza and his men approaching from behind. A battle ensues in which Amir brutally takes down any man who dares attack him – and MC does her own share of violence, shocking herself. But when Hamza is at his mercy Amir refuses to kill a helpless foe and instead takes MC's hand and starts running. Newly alive and euphoric from battle Amir pulls MC into a kiss – then, once the adrenaline fades, collapses from his wounds.

MC and Amir shelter in a cave while she tends to his injuries. He requests more lessons in the human tongue while he recovers and in return she asks for more traditional djinn stories. They are soon on the move again and make it to the other side of the Knives. As they continue on their journey they share more stories and lessons – and learn that there is a particular insult that both their cultures share. “Ki bo ki,” Amir teaches MC. “Fuck yourself,” she teaches him in turn.

CHAPTER IV:

Amir follows MC even past the Knives, into the farmland on the other side. He has nowhere else to go and neither seem to want to part just yet. He is also as excited as a child to see so many new sights. The two run into a blind woman on the road and help lift her cart out of a ditch. In thanks, she offers them lunch.

Once they reach the lady's farm she offers them both some of her produce and some clothes for Amir – at MC's request. Amir hates the shirt and he doubly hates the trousers, but MC insists that he keep them on while they are in human lands.

On the road again it isn't too long before they are waylaid by bandits who demand all their money, possessions, and Amir himself. Amir doesn't understand what is happening until MC explains the situation to him, after which he confidently tells the bandits to fuck themselves. After easily defeating the men, Amir and MC go through their ill-gotten belongings and find some broken slave bands. Amir agrees to wear them in order to fool any humans they may meet in the town ahead, but both he and MC feel disgusted by the performance.

CHAPTER V:

Now in the port town of Dijarah, Amir is amazed by the place but simply does not blend in. A man who takes offence to Amir spits at his feet, shocking the former rahki who has never been so affronted or so lost. He and MC stop at an inn for dinner, sharing a table despite the taboo, and learn that they have come to town on the right night – the Fish Festival is tonight.

Neither MC or Amir have ever attended a festival and let their excitement and curiosity overpower their common sense. When night falls they walk the now colourful streets, enjoying the food stalls, the games, and... the alcohol. Another first. They sit together at the water's edge and share another kiss, this one not fuelled by adrenaline but their shared sorrow at the thought of parting. MC shares the whole story of her escape from Ziya and journey to Umar. Amir vows to see MC safely onto a ship but then he must return home to the Hills, to seek justice and redemption with his tribe.

The fall asleep there by the water and wake wrapped around each other and facing the bemusement of the dock worker who finds them. MC finds a ship heading for Umar but is reluctant to book passage and say goodbye to Amir right then and there. Amir feels the same, casually suggesting breakfast in an attempt to distract her. But things are soon thrown into chaos as Hamza appears, spotting them and giving chase. Amir helps MC hide in a crate being loaded onto the ship from before, gives her knuckles a kiss, then leads Hamza away through the crowd. As the crate is loaded onto the ship, MC waits in the dark. A stowaway. Alone.

CHAPTER VI:

MC hides in the cargo hold, the ship having left port. She is alone, hopelessly worried about Amir, and heartbroken to know that she will never see him again. Then he pops out of the crate next to hers exclaiming, “MC!” and clapping his hand over her mouth to muffle her startled scream. Turns out he lost Hamza and doubled back to join her, unable to leave things as they were. Their days as stowaways begin. They pass time with stories and Amir finally tells MC about the expectation his tribe had for him to take a mate, and how it was part fascination and part rebellion that led him to claim MC as his when she was brought before him.

The confinement soon takes its toll on Amir who hates being unable to see the sky. MC makes him promise to stay hidden but he soon breaks it, discovered by sailors who take him before the ship's captain. MC follows in a panic and offers all the money she has – but the captain is surprisingly friendly, saying Amir has told him of her plight and that he is happy to give them passage to freedom in Umar. He gives them a cabin and asks in return only that MC remembers him and mentions him to all of her highborn friends and family as the gracious captain that saved her life.

One night there is a terrible storm. MC finds Amir up on deck, naked, arms outstretched, face raised to the rain. As the thunder and lightning crack around them, MC and Amir embrace passionately. They spend the night together in their cabin, primal desperation eventually turning to gentle intimacy, and fall asleep as close as two people can be.

CHAPTER VII:

Upon arrival in Umar the captain directs MC and Amir to a safe place to stay called Minerva's. It soon becomes apparent that Minerva's is a pleasure house. They stay the night anyway, though Amir barricades their door with heavy furniture just to be safe from everyone's... rapt attention. In the morning a free djinn called Royo appears to escort them to her employer, the merchant-turned-lord Yasir. It seems the good captain tried to sell them out but, fortunately for them, Yasir has no interest in cooperating with Ziya.

At Yasir's estate there is one more surprise waiting – Uncle Makram. He and MC share a tearful reunion and he vows that he will keep her safe from now on. MC also makes him promise to ensure Amir is returned safely to his homeland. Bemused, Makram agrees. The arrival of a righteous and unstoppable Hamza breaks the peace of Yasir's estate. He demands that MC be turned over to his custody immediately.

Makram is the one to stand up to Hamza. He calls in the Heartseer who long ago proclaimed MC guilty of murder and has him confess to lying about what he saw – though he will answer none of Hamza's questions as to why. Makram, Hamza and Yasir go to another room and, when they return, Hamza seems cowed and ground under Makram's heel. Though still clearly disturbed, he apologises to MC and declares her innocent.

CHAPTER VIII:

MC, Amir, Makram, and Hamza are journeying back to Ziya together. They are currently passing through the Shining Sands in a carriage manned by a driver generously gifted by Yasir. When they pass close by to the Hills, the carriage stops to allow Amir to disembark.

Amir and MC stand in the starlight, sand under their feet, and know that this time they must say goodbye. MC asks for one last story and Amir tells her the tale of two legendary djinn lovers and the reysoko (blood bond) they shared by marking each other's flesh and drinking each other's blood, making them inseparable by even death. Unable to embrace under the scrutiny of the others MC and Amir must then simply say farewell and part ways. Amir heads off, up towards the Hills. MC returns to the carriage.

As the journey to Ziya continues through the night, MC suddenly realises that Hamza is no longer sitting out beside the driver. She forces Makram to admit what he, Yasir and Hamza discussed in that private room back in Umar – a plan to blame the shah's murder on a djinn plot, claiming that Ran was an assassin from Amir's tribe. As they speak, Hamza has met with a squad of his best men and they are following Amir's tracks to lead them to his people. MC slaps her uncle and leaps from the carriage, unhitching a horse and riding as fast as she can back towards the Hills to warn Amir and the tribe.

CHAPTER IX:

But by the time MC makes it to the camp there are already signs of a razing. Some djinn lie dead. Hani is leading many of the survivors in an attempt to avoid the soldiers by moving about the forest – as she knows the human tongue she alone is able to eavesdrop on their plans and work around them. MC leads a squad of Hamza's men away from them and into the undergrowth of thorns that she once blundered into, back when she briefly lived here.

She finds Hamza and Kherga, surrounded by dead djinn and humans alike, circling each other and both badly wounded. Hamza lands the killing blow on Kherga just as Amir comes running onto the scene, howling in grief and fury. Amir faces Hamza and they fight once more. This time, when Hamza is at his mercy, Amir does not hesitate to kill him.

When the last of the soldiers limp away in defeat, the tribe comes back together. Silently they build a giant pyre and burn their dead upon it. Amir watches Kherga's body burn, clasping MC's hand tightly in his. They stand there until the fire burns out and Amir's brothers' and sisters' souls have flown to the sky.

BITTER END:

The tribe reinstate Amir as their chief. After the ceremony Amir escorts MC to the edge of the Hills. Though she will miss him, she simply cannot leave behind civilisation. Whether she will stay in Ziya or begin a new life in some other city, she is not sure. But she has a choice, which is more than she has ever had before.

They share one final embrace, then MC turns and walks away. She feels Amir's eyes on her back until he is so far away that he is no longer even a blur on the horizon.

SWEET END:

With newfound respect and gratitude for Hani, and with Amir's blessing, the tribe choose her as their new chief. After the ceremony Amir escorts MC to the edge of the Hills to say a final farewell. MC makes it ten steps before turning and running back to Amir. She asks if she can stay with him. He is kissing her before she finishes the question.

Free from their old responsibilities, MC and Amir find a place to settle in the Hills just for themselves. Amir is teaching her to swim. Exhausted from the lessons (and perhaps more than that) they lie on the bank, lazily playing with each other's hair. Just like the legendary lovers that Amir once told her about, he marks MC's shoulder with a bite. She does the same to him, and their bond is forever sealed.