#ugly 70s decor

[tuttle-did-it]

For absolutely no reason at all, here is a clip of Vincent Price pulling out a souffle from the oven in the 1970s.

[groundbreakingdot872]

old man Merlin has this hanging up in his home btw:

live laugh long live the queen!

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[headspace-hotel]

Moths are only drab or ugly if you don't look closely. Most every moth is the most beautiful creature, with excellent shapes, patterns, lines and squiggles decorating the wings, fabulous fancy antennae, and elegant fluff that sometimes gives the appearance of 70's leg warmers or a luxurious fur-trimmed cloak.

[creepy-friday]

more female proxy PLEASE I swear it is the only thing keeping me alive rn and I keep going back to read the old ones 😭 honestly at this point it can be about anything (but I you could do me a favor and do a little extra for Toby 🙏) TY IN ADVANCE

of course if you don’t want to you don’t have to but thank you so much for these outstanding works <333

Hello!!! I'm sorry I have been inactive😭

More Female!Proxy Headcanons

Warnings: violence,foul language

Despite your high status,you're a woman as well,and some male residents actually have some "chivalry" in them.Brian would let you go first out of respect,Jeff would open doors and throw an extremely out of line comment in an attempt to get attention or to piss you off,and if he gets the hots for you,then Toby is genuine with his gestures.

Toby would try his best but the constant tics and high anxiety makes him look more or less like a clown/cringy Disney guy.He tries tough

If you pass by his room you can actually hear sudden banging on the door or just him talking to himself in a desperate manner.If you manage to enter the room and calm him down he would become even more anxious after your leave since he would overthink everything he said.

All creeps respect each others privacy sort of but there can be rare incidents where some residents would "accidentally" enter someone else's room.Keys are only provided to the proxies

I don't imagine any resident religious,so Holidays aren't celebrated.I can see Nina having small decorations in her room or sleeping in those ugly knitted holiday sweaters since it reminds her of a more normal time.

The only person who keeps his mask on at all times is EJ.His face is bare when he's either numb or when it's night and roaming the mansion.

On some occasions,you can see Masky,Jeff or Sully walking around shirtless and the only woman who would try to make them feel uncomfortable would be Clockwork since if any woman would wear something revealing the same men would not just pass by without some sort of comment.

Small bickering leads to broken noses 70% of the time.Whenever someone gets really physical with another resident that can lead to a puddle of blood,it will sit there until the person who "spilled it" cleans it.

On extremely rare occasions,the tall eldritch of the Manor can be seen around in the corners of a room for a second.Some say they are just hallucinations,and others say he's just checking his creations-that leads to the theory that he might actually care a little about them.

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 1: "that was good work"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde drilled the final hole for the final screw in his Halloween monstrosity. October first, and everyone had Spooky Fever. Even Red. The metallic human skeleton they'd built was all broken car parts, sourced from Red's muffler shop.

"That was good work," Red said and patted Hyde's shoulder. He passed Hyde a clean rag from the shop's supply cart. "Now get that grease off."

The skeleton's lowest left rib was secured. Hyde wiped grease from it, and Red grunted. "What?" Hyde said.

"That was for your face. You look like you fell head-first into an oil spill."

Damn. Shaping the metal had meant using a blowtorch. He'd worn a welder's helmet, but he was sweaty. The skeleton's finer details required him and Red to manipulate the heavy Halloween decoration carefully. Hyde must've rubbed sweat off his forehead and cheeks with greasy hands.

"Just use the sink in the bathroom," Red said.

"Sure, but -- where are we gonna hide this thing 'til the party?"

"Here. I've got a drop cloth for it. We'll haul Ol' Bobby Bones to the backyard using your car."

Hyde quirked up an eyebrow. "Ol' Bobby Bones? You named it after Bob?"

Red tilted his head and seemed to think a moment. "Guess I did."

"Huh."

Hyde went to the shop's employees only bathroom and washed up. Red wanted to creep out people this year. Burn 'em with fear, but Red couldn't be left out of the fun. Hyde still owed him for that terrifying Prank Day years back. Alls Hyde had to do was record Bob talking for two hours, install an auto-reverse tape player into Ol' Bobby Bones, and Red would have his fair share of Halloween horror.

***

Hyde told Jackie of his plan later that night, in their bed. She brushed her fingers through his curls and said, "That was good work, puddin'. I love that my fiancé is both smart and sexy."

The Milwaukee skyline peeked through the drapes of their room. He liked the view from their apartment, but the view beside him was much more gratifying. Jackie couldn't do ugly even if she tried, despite when she thought she appeared her worst. Maybe he was biased, but he didn't give a crap.

"Oh, yeah?" He grinned and leaned his face closer to hers. "Let's find out if this work is even better."

He kissed her, sending a message she'd easily decode.

"Making love isn't supposed to be work, Steven," she said afterward.

"Work ain't work if you enjoy doing it."

In the dim light of their bedroom, her eyes shone with understanding. She kissed him back, tenderly at first then full of passion. If Spooky Fever had led to this kind of intimacy, he happily -- and finally -- accepted being infected by it.

[laguezze]

PAC: Characteristics of your FS

This is for or all the people with intention to marry or have a long term relationship. Next up will be a soulmate characteristic PAC. I decided to split it in two to get more details!

Now onto the PAC!

Here are the piles!

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 4

Ready? Let's go!

Pile 1

This person is a rebel. Might be a bit hypocritical about it. Like they might come from money but decide to live out their best broke musician dreams while still living in their rich dad's apartment that he bought for them. That's just one case example, take it as it resonates.

This person loves to keep appearances, they love to be in control of how people perceive them. I'm seeing they want to be taken seriously.

Long, messy, brown, curly hair. Middle part is possible.

North America, Australia, Oceania, Hawaii, UK.

Dainty eyes?, Blue eyes, light eyes.

Not too defined features but also not ugly. Might be what people call "medium ugly" for some of you. Nothing too shocking about their features.

Musician, plays guitar, indie music taste, 420 friendly? Nirvana (the band), big social life, plaid shirts, leather jackets, bad boy persona, baddie aesthetic, motorbike, cigarette, old school lover, 70s aesthetic and fashion.

Pile 2

This person is very much hypocritical, they don't know what they want in life. Very much lost with their career and family life. You might help guide them.

They definitely have unconventional dreams like opening up a tea shop, or flower shop. Which is fine, but I'm seeing they want to do that for the wrong reasons. Very easily manipulated person, it'll be frustrating for you to see. But they'll get better with your help probably.

Probably from any capitalist country. Take that as you will.

Light eyes or medium eyes but not dark. Downturned eyes.

Short hair, pixie cut, wolf cut.

Wears bandanas, baggy clothes, long skirts, hippie style, boho aesthetic, activist. Necklaces and bracelets, lots of jewelery in general.

(sorry it's a bit short, your person wasn't too specific with the looks but rather with the personality)

Pile 3

You guys got yourselves a romantic, old school, kinda person. They probably listen to music from the 50s and 60s and jazz, lots of jazz. Might love to take things slow and smooth. Doesn't like running late to things and is always calm and early. Very collected person, never a hair out of place. Always is composed. They might have been different before they met you. They probably were chaotic and funny before they met you but something happened that made them this sophisticated, chic person. You might need to bring the fun in them back, I'm hearing. Might be a judgy individual.

Latinx, Hispanic, Southern Europe, North America (East Coast)

Brown eyes, very deep set eyes, intense gaze

Short hair, very short for men, curly hair, either Brown or dirty blonde.

Long eyelashes, very pretty features. Either small nose or large nose, no in between; defined face, high cheekbones.

Medium height, slightly muscular.

60s, 50s music and fashion, coffee and tea lover, might be a cook or love to do it, kitchen lover, architecture fanatic, probably loves house decor and renovation, secretive, mysterious, romantic, candle collector.

Pile 4

(idk i swear this is not Hozier themed, there's just something about him present here)

"imagine being loved by me"

This persoooon omg. So pure hearted. Truly has the best intentions at heart. They literally are sunshine personified. They radiate light, like their smile lights up a room and they always look clean and cheerful. The type of person everyone likes. No one ever dares say anything negative about them and if they do, it's because of jealousy.

They might have a lot of pretty privilege that makes this effect happen. Like if this person was a 6/10 (conventional attractiveness scale) their personality wouldn't be as appreciated. But because they're so beautiful inside and out, it shines through. I'm getting they realize this privilege and it rubs them the wrong way sometimes but they won't fight against it because it's helping them with their goals.

North America, Sweden, Finland, etc, Northern Europe and UK.

Blonde hair, short hair, curly hair, honey hair.

blue eyes, light eyes, almond shaped eyes

Bunny pretty (that one TikTok trend ifykyk), slim, short, cherubin look (if you don't know what that is, think cupid angel type of beauty), white clothes, flowy dresses, short eyelashes, defined jawline, big smile, straight teeth, bunny teeth, cardigans.

Hope it resonates for all of you!!! 💕

[third-world-punks]

✦ THIRD-WORLD PUNKS ✦ INTRODUCTION

“Who are we? We are the global South, that large set of creations and creatures that has been sacrificed to the infinite voracity of capitalism, colonialism, patriarchy, and all their satellite-oppressions. We are present at every cardinal point because our geography is the geography of injustice and oppression. We are not everyone; we are those who do not resign themselves to sacrifice and therefore resist. We have dignity. We are all indigenous peoples because we are where we have always been, before we had owners, masters, or bosses, or because we are where we were taken against our will and where owners, masters, or bosses were imposed on us. They want to impose on us the fear of having a boss and the fear of not having a boss, so that we may not imagine ourselves without fear. We resist. We are widely diverse human beings united by the idea that the understanding of the world is much larger than the Western understanding of the world. We believe that the transformation of the world may also occur in ways not foreseen by the global North. We are animals and plants, biodiversity and water, earth and Pachamama, ancestors and future generations—whose suffering appears less in the news than the suffering of humans but is closely linked to theirs, even though they may be unaware of it.” — Boaventura de Sousa Santos, Epistemologies of the South: Justice Against Epistemicide.

We are THIRD-WORLD PUNKS, a blog devoted to cultivating a dark-academia aesthetic inspired by Latin America and the UK Punk Scene. I'm your host, PHILOSOPHIKA, a 33-year-old British and Colombian philosopher specialising in aesthetics (the branch of philosophy that studies concepts such as beauty and ugliness and investigates the nature of art and the senses) and anti-totalitarian ethics. Keep reading to learn more about the aesthetic's main goals, sources of inspiration, and suggested hashtags.

✦ OUR MISSION

To create a Latin American take on the 'dark academia' aesthetic from the perspective of the region's actual inhabitants. The T.W.P. aesthetic actively avoids depicting the region as a holiday destination (fruity drinks, trendy hotels, sexy pool boys, designer sunglasses, etc.) or representing the culture through a tourist's eyes (for example, as exclusively consisting of festivals or big public events). This aesthetic should provide the viewer with an intimate portrait of what it's actually like to call this region home. Images of local food, daily customs, traditional clothing, distinctive architecture, weather patterns, etc., are encouraged.

To provide a modern fusion between Latin American (principally Colombian) and UK culture that does not reproduce the aesthetics of British colonialism. To this end, the T.W.P. aesthetic steers clear of antique botanical prints, colonial uniforms, overly beige colour palettes, floral chintz wallpapers or decorative accents, leather trunks, and/or anything even faintly reminiscent of a plantation. Emphasis is placed instead on UK Punk fashion and culture (think Camden Market and Vivienne Westwood), extravagant and eclectic UK (& European) architecture and interior design, and Oxbridge academia vibes.

To challenge what traditional academia looks and feels like, as well as its core tenets (eurocentrism, US-centrism, elitism, abelism, etc.). The T.W.P aesthetic celebrates and encourages out-of-the-box thinking, ethnic and racial diversity, neurodivergent and LGBTQIA+ higher education experiences, as well as discussions of postcolonial, queer, and feminist theory, among others (think TWAIL: Third-World Approaches to International Law). Quotations, reading lists, book recommendations or reviews, and catchphrases along these lines are welcome.

✦ SOURCES OF INSPIRATION

— art deco/decopunk — art nouveau — solarpunk— steampunk — gutterpunk — latin american geography, flora & fauna — latin american culture — spanish colonial architecture — pre-columbian latin america — 70's & 80's uk punk scene — elements of cyberpunk — alternative fashion — maximalism — haute boheme aesthetic

✦ RELEVANT HASHTAGS

Do you want to tag something with this aesthetic on your blog? Check out the suggestions below:

#TWP —   #TWPs —   #TWP Aesthetic —   #TWPs Aesthetic | #Third-World Punks —  #Third World Punks —  #Third-World Punks Aesthetic —

[blooming-violets]

CREATURE LIKE ME || CHAPTER EIGHT: PYRRIHIC VICTORY

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Story Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

[link to chapter index]

A woodchipper. 

That’s what her body felt like it had been shoved through. 

She had been wrapped up and pushed through the spinning blades until she was nothing more than bloody pulp. 

“Fuck me,” she groaned. 

Aylin forced her stiff, heavy lids to open. A layer of sleep crusted over her lashes, making it difficult to see. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand to clear them. When they finally came into focus, she was nose to nose with wide, golden eyes staring expectantly back at her. Black, sleek fur rubbed against her forehead as her cat, Kedi, rammed face first into her head with a long, drawn out whine. 

“Yes, good morning to you, too,” she grumbled. 

“It’s actually evening. You slept almost 16 hours. Thought you might not ever wake up.” 

A familiar voice popped up from behind her. 

Aylin rolled over, wincing from the shooting pains electrifying her body, to find Peter sitting on the edge of her bed. Except this wasn’t her bed. She glanced around the small room and recognized it as the same motel she brought Peter on the night they met. She could tell because of how cheap and ugly the decor was; like it had been redecorated once in the early 70’s then never touched again. It had the same musty smell of mold and stale cigarette smoke that she remembered so well. The thick, avocado green curtains were drawn closed so the only source of light was the flashing colors from the television. He had kept it on silent, probably so as not to disturb her sleep, and he was sitting as far off the edge of the bed as he could without being on the floor. She noticed the only chair in the room was propped up under the door knob as an added line of defense to keep anyone out. 

Peter was wearing one of her brother’s old, navy blue sweatshirts and gray joggers she had brought him to try on a few days ago. A pair of run down work boots lay tossed against the back wall as if he had nonchalantly kicked them off his feet after he got settled. Her brother’s borrowed clothes seemed to fit well enough. It was strange seeing him wear Emir’s things. It had been over five years since anyone had donned them. It was about time they got put to use instead of collecting dust in his bedroom tomb. It was also strange to see Peter wearing a shirt, regardless of who it once belonged to. Since she met him, he had always been shirtless.  

She sort of missed the view. 

Aylin glanced down at her own self to see what sort of disheveled state she was in. She had been respectfully covered with the hideously floral bedspread but, underneath, she was still in the same attire she’d fled in. Underwear to cover her lower half and tightly wrapped bandages to cover her top half. Nearly naked and covered in blood, dirt, and sweat. Funny how their roles had been reversed since the last time they had taken refuge in this motel. 

“Why is Kedi here?�� She croaked through dry lips. She was in desperate need of water. 

Peter looked between her and the cat perched at her shoulder, “I’m guessing that's Kedi?”

She nodded. 

“Before you passed out, you were really upset about not being able to find your mother. You didn’t want to leave anyone behind when we ran,” he gave a sheepish shrug. “I assumed that meant taking the cat, too.” 

She raised her brows in surprise, “He let you pick him up and put him in the car?” 

Peter gave a weary glance back at Kedi and shook his head, “It didn’t go as smoothly as you’re making it sound…” He raised his arms to show off a myriad of red scratches clawing down his skin and pointed bite marks sunk into his hand. The cat had put up a good fight but it seemed Peter came out victorious. 

Aylin gave a soft chuckle of amusement, “Yeah. That sounds more like it.”

She looked over her shoulder to smile fondly at her cat, happy that he was safe with them, then turned back to Peter. “How’d you pay for this room?”

He shrugged again, chewing on the hard bit of calloused skin next to his thumb nail, “You had your wallet in the car. You also had a bunch of stuff packed into the trunk. I brought some of it in after I got you settled in bed.” 

She struggled to prop herself up onto her elbows to get into a sitting position but the pain was too much. She collapsed back onto the stiff mattress with a muffled whine. 

Peter scooted closer over to her and held out his arm for her to take, “Here. Let me help you.” 

He heaved her up with ease and held her steady until she was sitting on her own. His eyes raked over the red stained bandages wrapped around her chest and covering her back. She could tell it wasn’t the first time he had taken in the sight of her injuries but it still made him uncomfortable. He quickly averted his eyes when he noticed her watching him. 

“I knew something was wrong,” he whispered, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know how I knew it but I did. I kept telling myself to give you time to come back. You said it might take a while. But then it got to be past midnight. It’s almost a full moon, you know. In two nights. Everything feels stronger when it gets closer to a full moon. Maybe that’s how I knew. I felt some kind of intuition. It was like I was being pulled to find you. I still waited, though. I told myself it was just in my head. That I promised to wait for you at the camper.” He swallowed, sounding as culpable as she felt. “I should have looked for you sooner. I shouldn’t have let you go back there at all. I knew how dangerous Kraven was. I should have kept you safe. What happened when you went back? What did he do to you?”

Guilt rained down on her as the memories opened from the dark cloud above her head. Murderer. She had killed the Lycan girl. Stabbed her straight through the heart. Ripped her life from her without ever knowing her name. She was a murderous Silver Colt, born and raised, destined to be nothing more than an oven for her leader to stick his seed into. A plaything, perfectly groomed to his liking. Was any part of her real? Or was she entirely constructed to be the person he wanted her to be? 

She could feel Kraven’s hands all over her body. They lingered and clung to her skin like an unshakable memory. It made her feel sick. Dirty. She would have gladly taken Calypso with the whip over ever having to be in the same room with that man again. Calypso may have broken her body but Kraven had shattered her soul. Whatever dreamlike bliss she’d felt upon waking in the safety of this motel beside Peter had sizzled out faster than she could blink. He had become a beacon of hope for her to cling onto and a pleasant memory for her to dissociate to. 

But he wasn’t real. The Peter she dreamed of in that basement lived only in her labyrinth. The one sitting beside her was someone else. He was his own person. Not a perfect figment of her imagination. He felt liable for her safety only because she had saved him his captive fate. He was in her debt.  

She felt a vacant, numbness settle into the depths of her blackened mind as shadows crept around her sharp edges. Her escape from the basement was a pyrrhic victory. 

“Nothing happened,” she mumbled, her words sounding mechanical in her ears. “I’m fine.”

Aylin felt constricted in her every move. The dried blood, splattered over her, pinched at her skin. The wraps Calypso had done felt too tight. Her underwear was crusty and hard from the blood that dripped from her back and soaked through the fabric. Her hair was stiff and sticking to everything. She felt suffocated inside her own body. Not even the tall walls of her labyrinth were a safe place to linger for long. It had become polluted with the toxic chemicals Kraven had spilled over every part of her. She didn’t know who she was anymore. 

She needed to crawl out of her own skin. 

“I need a shower,” she stated. 

Peter’s eyes darted between her and the bed spread at his legs like he was afraid to keep her in his gaze for too long but equally afraid to have her out of it. She knew he didn’t believe a word she had said. She obviously wasn’t fine but he was either too shy, or too smart, to confront her on her claims. 

He nodded slowly as if every move he made was calculated to keep the peace between them, “What, uhm, what’s under the bandages?” He quickly added, trying to play it off like it was nothing more than a nonchalant question, “Just because it might hurt to put any wounds under running water. Are you sure you don’t want me to check on them first? Just to be safe?” 

Aylin ignored him and shoved herself to her unsteady feet with a grunt. Peter stood in sync with her, keeping a hand out to catch her should she fall, but not actually closing the gap to physically touch her. He kept his sights on his bare feet. He looked terrified to disrespect her by staring at her in just her underwear. He still didn’t know where he stood in her allegiance. The last time they spoke she had vacillated between being his friend and cursing him out with little warning. He wasn’t sure what wrong move he could make that would get him in trouble this time. 

She gave him a sad smile in the hopes to ease his concern. He didn’t need to be frightened of her. He had saved her life. He had done everything to erase his debt. She no longer considered herself a true Silver Colt. She would never be able to return to her home again which meant that she had no more use for him. No information he could give her would ever erase her knowledge that her entire life was a lie. He was free to leave whenever he wanted. 

“You don’t have to stay anymore, Peter,” she muttered under her breath, stopping halfway to the bathroom with him still hovering at her side. “I think we’re even now. I saved you. You saved me. You’re a free man. You’re not a prisoner. I don’t need you for information anymore. I’m not going to kill you. I refuse to. Our deal is over. Nothing matters, anyway. It was all for nothing. You can go.” 

Aylin leaned down to collect her duffle bag from the floor beside the television stand. It was sitting next to a case of water bottles and some camping food, her bucket of first aid supplies, and her crossbow. He had brought in everything that she could need for when she awoke, including a weapon to protect herself with if she felt the need too. When she tugged the strap of the bag over her sore shoulder, she straightened up to stare back, forcing herself to make eye contact with him.

Peter had a look that was hard for her to read. Apprehension. Dismay. Melancholy. Rejection. Confusion. They all flashed across his warm, brown eyes while he processed what she was saying. It hurt to see him like that but he deserved to be free. He didn’t need her. She was useless to him. 

“No,” his assertion was evident in his tone. “I’m staying.” 

Her heart sank with sorrow and an anger rose in her chest. She didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him to look at her with those pity filled eyes. She didn’t want to be responsible for another unnecessary death. Kraven would hunt her down and find her. He would slaughter anyone she was with. She would never be safe from his hold. People don’t get to leave the guild without consequences. She knew that now. Peter was better off on his own. 

“No, you aren’t. You’re leaving. Go,” she shot back. “I don’t want you here anymore. Thank you for getting me out and bringing me here but I no longer need you. You repaid your debt. You balanced the scales. You can go.”

He shook his head in defiance, “I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.” His arms crossed over his chest and he planted his feet firmly against the worn out, red carpet as if daring her to try and move him.

Aylin stomped her foot with annoyance, “There’s no point in you sticking around! You’re only going to get hurt. I bring death wherever I go! I’m the reason they’re all dead.” Her voice cracked but she kept her chin held high. “My father, my brother, probably my mother and Leah and her family, Sierra…that wolf girl…I’m…cursed. I’m not a good person. I’m a murderer. A fraud. I’m not anything you should be around. I only bring pain. It’s not worth it. Just go. You’ll be better off. ‘M gonna go wash up and when I come out, I hope you’re far, far away from here.” 

She turned on her heels, refusing to look any longer at his perturbed face stinging with rejection, and slammed the bathroom door behind her. The bag fell from her shoulder to the tiles under foot. Aylin nearly collapsed onto the edge of the sink, holding herself up with the palms of her hands, and hanging her head. 

She didn’t want Peter to leave her. Not really. He was the only friend she had in this world. He was the only one who could ever even attempt to understand her but she still felt the need to push him away. She was toxic. Every bit of her was shriveled up and soured. When she lifted her head to stare back at her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the woman on the other end. A stranger. Dark bags encircled her barren eyes. Red stained up her cheeks and over her lips. She pulled back the corner of her mouth and tilted her head to see the gap in her teeth. The top, second molar from the back on her left side was now nothing more than a bloody hole. She poked her tongue up into the gap, feeling the smoothness of her gums, and pressed it in harder to feel the jolt of pain. 

Pain was starting to become the only feeling she could accurately recognize. Everything else couldn’t be trusted. 

Aylin pushed away from the sink to strip herself from her soiled underwear. She kicked them into the trash before turning on the shower to heat up and taking a tender seat on the toilet. With the sound of the water pounding against the tub, she could no longer hear Peter standing outside the door. He had been pacing back and forth only moments ago but now there was nothing but silence. 

A pang of anxiety settled into her stomach at the thought of him actually leaving. There would be a chance that when she left this bathroom, she would be alone. Truly alone. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do then. Try to find her mother? Make sure she was safe? She couldn’t live in a motel forever. If she did end up finding her mom, they’d be homeless. It’s not like either of them had any work experience or life outside of the guild. She didn’t even think she had a social security number or was on any government records. Aylin didn’t exist outside of the Silver Colts. 

After she finished up on the toilet, she washed her hands the best she could. Her pinky and ring finger on her right hand were still tightly bound together and held straight by the splint. She was missing three finger nails on the same hand. The soft nail beds stung as she applied soap to them in an attempt to clean the blood. With her hands still dripping with water, she dug her toothbrush and toothpaste out from her bag to brush her teeth, careful to avoid the few in the back that ached with pain whenever the bristles got too close to the missing tooth. She desperately needed to rid the taste of Kraven from her mouth. She gulped down the water flowing from the sink to satiate her thirst and finally turned to the shower. 

Before stepping in, she wanted to remove her bandages. Everything needed to be cleaned. It wasn’t like Calypso washed her back before she threw the salve on it and bandaged her. Her body needed to be completely sanitized for her to feel human again. From looking behind her shoulder in the mirror, she could see where the end of the wrap was tucked into the middle of her back. She tried again and again to manipulate her arm around her back to grab at the end piece but it evaded her reach every time. Her shoulders were too sore from holding her body upright for hours. They ached with sharp stabs of pain each time she tried to reach the end of the bandage until tears pricked up in the corners of her eyes. 

All she wanted was to be clean. 

Aylin let out a frustrated yell and threw herself to the floor with the dramatics of a toddler throwing a tantrum. The tiles were dirty and cold under her bare bottom as she draped herself over the edge of the tub with her head cradled in her arms. She couldn’t do it. Everything she knew, her home, her people, her entire history, was ripped away from her. She had nowhere to go. Her mother was missing. She had no way of knowing if she got her note and escaped. There was no way to contact her. They didn’t have cell phones in the guild. They were cut off from society. Her mother could be anywhere. She could be in trouble and Aylin would never know. There was nothing left. 

She was an outcast. Banished from her people. A traitor. A pariah. 

She wasn’t part of the Silver Colts. She wasn’t part of the Lycans. She wasn’t part of the normal, human institution. She was no one. 

Loud, heavy sobs shook through her chest and blubbered out her mouth. Hot, fat tears poured down her cheeks and splashed to the floor. She had never cried like this before. She had never felt so vulnerable and lost. Even when her father and brother died, she had never been this broken. 

Adrift in the void of stray souls with no one to turn to. 

The bathroom door creaked open. Peter padded up softly behind her. She couldn’t move to look at him. His presence only made her cry harder. He should be gone. He should have run. His loyalty was misplaced. He was confused. 

She felt him quietly kneel down behind her and gently untuck the bandage from its hold. He carefully and silently unwrapped it around her until it lay in a bloody pile at her side. The tips of his warm fingers ghosted over the slashes from the whip as he took in the sight for the first time. She tried to gain back control of her sobs but it was useless. The flood gates had been released. 

Her wet eyes squeezed closed at his touch. So soft. So careful. He had no right to be this gentle with her. He should hate her for who she had been associated with. 

Peter’s hand landed on her shoulder, giving it a delicate squeeze. 

“Get up,” he whispered. “Let’s get you clean. You’ll feel more like yourself then. Trust me.”

Trust him. 

Aylin did. She trusted him more than anyone. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and allowed him to grip under her arms to help her stand. He guided her into the tub, keeping his eyes politely averted from her naked form, and waited until he felt she was stable enough before pulling his hands away. Slowly, he pushed the shower curtain closed to give her privacy. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

A fresh wave of tears hit her and she doubled over with more sobs under the weak stream of water, “Y-yeah.” When she heard him start to leave the bathroom, she called back out, letting the panic take over, “Wait! Peter…can you…can you stay with me? Don’t go…don’t leave me. I-I need you.” 

She could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“I was never going to leave. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

He flipped the toilet seat closed and settled down on top of it. His long legs extended out to perch his feet on the edge of the tub. She could see the shower curtain pull tighter where they rested and felt a sense of calm settle in her mind now that she knew he was with her. 

Maybe she didn’t have to be alone. Peter was alone. They could be alone together. 

The water cascaded down her chest. She placed her face into the stream to scrub at her cheeks with her hands. Brown, dark blood washed from her body and circled around the drain. She was afraid to turn her back to the shower, knowing how badly it would hurt when the water hit her wounds, but she needed to wash the blood from her hair. 

“Are you alright?” Peter asked when he heard her muffled wince of pain as she turned around. 

Aylin smiled woefully to herself, lathering her scalp with the cheap motel shampoo, “It just hurts. I’ll be okay.” A few more lingering tears slipped down her face to mix in with the steaming water. The water pressure was weak but at least it was hot. Her guilt clung to her tighter than the steam clouding around her face. “Peter?” 

“Hmm?” 

Her eyes gazed down at the sun seared into her thigh. It was blistering with angry, red lines outlining the rays of the sun. The mark of a Silver Colt, the mark of Kraven, festering with a growing infection. “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry I was a bitch to you. I’m sorry I was a part of the group of people who hurt you. I’m sorry I kept you when I should have let you go the day I found you. I’m sorry for promising to kill you and refusing to go through with it. I’m sorry for being a Silver Colt.” 

He was silent for a long time. She tenderly washed her body with the soap provided to her as she waited for his response, grazing over her wounds the best she could, and letting the water carry away her filth. With each passing moment under the stream, she cleansed herself further from Kraven. 

“I don’t blame you,” Peter finally whispered. She could hardly hear him over the shower. “You acted within the parameters you knew. You saved my life. You showed me that things could be different. I didn’t have to live the way I was. There was still something more out there. Everything was hopeless until I met you.” 

Was it no longer hopeless? 

She felt hopeless. Directionless. She couldn’t see the same vision he did. They were moving in opposite directions. 

“I don’t want to die anymore,” he stated with finality to his tone. 

She did. 

Aylin turned the knob of the shower to shut it off. The water sputtered to a halt, leaving her wet, dripping, and quickly chilling as the warm droplets cooled on her skin. 

Peter shuffled behind the curtain and soon a white towel poked through the side. She gladly took it, gently wiping herself dry. 

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said. “I’m going to set up the first aid kit for when you come out. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just be on the other side of this door.”

She listened for the light click to indicate the closing door before she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out. Condensation clung to the mirror. She whipped it away with the palm of her hand. She looked rough but there was a glimmer of Aylin staring back at her. Underneath all that blood and sweat, she was still human. Her red trimmed, puffy eyes stayed locked onto herself as she scrunched the water out of her long hair with the towel. 

There was still softness in the world despite what she had gone through. Peter was proof of that. He had stayed. He didn’t run the first chance he got. He wasn’t helping her because he felt like he was forced to. His compassion was able to extend further than his trauma. 

He didn’t want to die anymore. 

She wondered what caused that change.

Aylin knelt down to dig through her bag. She grabbed a pair of clean underwear and some loose fitting workout shorts. Anything else would rub against her brand. She was worried about the infection that was beginning to form around the edges and guessed her back was probably looking the same. After quickly getting into the clean bottoms, she held the towel against her bare chest to keep herself somewhat decent before stepping out of the bathroom. Putting on a shirt before she wrapped her back wounds would be pointless. 

Peter was standing at the edge of the bed with the bucket of first aid open in front of him. He had laid out some gauze and bandages on the bed spread and was reading the back label of a yellow tube. He casually glanced in her direction with raised brows, “Is Neosporin what you need? It says antibiotic ointment. That’s probably good, right?” 

She gave him a quiet nod. He was beautiful. Forgiving. Tender. She had the urge to be held by him, cradled in the safety of his arms, with her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. There was a newly found desperation growing where all she wanted to was to feel loved by another person. By him. Anything to make the pain go away. 

His eyes wandered back over to her, slowly toying down her body then back up to her face. She didn’t mind and found herself blushing under his obvious ogling. He gave her a lopsided grin, “Who knew there was an actual person under all that grime?”  

A smile broke out across her face, cracking through her hardened exterior. Her first real smile since she left him at camp. Those were the same words she had spoken to him the night he shuffled out of the shower the last time they were here. Their roles had been completely reversed. 

For a fleeting second, they held onto each other’s eyes, finding a common place between them. An appreciation. A care. A yearning.

A love. 

He was the first one to break the moment, hoisting the bucket off the bed and patting his hand on the mattress, “Come lay down. Let me look at your back.” 

Aylin did as she was told, happy to let someone else, someone she trusted, take control for a little a while. Once she was face first on top of the bed, she pulled the towel out from under her chest and rolled it up to use as a pillow. It was wet and cooling on her cheek as she closed her eyes. Her hair was tossed over her shoulder, away from her back. She could feel Kedi pawing at the dripping ends before he flopped over and dozed off. 

She wasn’t alone. 

There was life in this room besides her own. Life that she cared about. Life that she wanted to protect. 

Peter leaned over to examine the damage then looked back to the small tube of ointment, “I don’t think this will be enough.” 

Aylin cracked her eyes open to stare at him through half closed slits, “Does my back look infected? If not then I’ll use it on my thigh instead. That definitely needs it more.” 

She watched him glance down to the back of her thighs which were parted in a wider stance to keep her skin from touching. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“Yeah, about that,” he spoke with a timid inflection. “What exactly am I looking at? When I brought you in from the car, I could kind of see it. It was all blistered but it looked a bit like it was spider shape or something. I didn’t want to push your legs apart too much to get a better look, not that you’re not nice to look at or anything, you were just sleeping…and I was…I was just…trying to…see…and make sure you were okay…” 

Aylin rolled her eyes and cut off his anxious rambling, “It’s a sun. Half of one. Kraven burned it into me to prove I was still a Silver Colt. That I was still one of them. That I was his.” 

Peter took a delicate seat on the edge of the bed beside her. He raised one brow with a look of mild intrigue, “Kraven?”

She huffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Yes? You remember him? The guy who ruined your life?”

“I know who you’re talking about.” A smile danced across his lips. “It’s just, well, you’ve always called him Sergei. The last time I brought up Kraven the Hunter you got all pissed off and had a look of death on your face like you’d kill me for disrespecting him by calling him that. Suddenly, he’s no longer Sergei. He’s Kraven. That’s what all the Lycan call him. You flipped sides.” 

Aylin let out a long breath, her eyes stared emotionless at the bare wall across from her, not finding the same amusement he clearly did, “That’s me. The traitor.”

Peter flopped down on his stomach next to her. His arms curled up to form a place for his head to rest as he stared, nose to nose, at her. He was becoming more comfortable around her by the second. She enjoyed the change. 

“I like Aylin the Traitor better than Aylin the Cult Member,” he muttered with a grin.

He was so close. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel something besides guilt and shame. He was so delicately handsome. 

And he was still here despite everything. 

“My entire life was a lie,” she whispered back to him, needing to share the burden of her life with someone she trusted. “Everything. He wanted me before I was even born. He wanted me to be his perfect…” She didn’t know what. Wife? Baby mother? Side piece? “He wanted me to have his children.” 

Peter’s brow furrowed, his joy fading, “What do you mean?” 

“Him and his wife. They couldn’t have children. He wanted an heir. They decided that the best way to do that was to create the perfect person from scratch. Someone loyal and obedient. Someone they could manipulate. Someone who would do whatever they asked,” she felt the tears pressing back up. “Someone as pathetic and naive as me.”’ 

She let out a dark, humorless laugh, “And the crazy thing is, if I had never met you, I would have done it. Without a second thought. I would have willingly agreed to it because I trusted him. He would have known best. If that’s what he said I needed to do to help our people, then I would have done it. It’s only because of you, I knew better. I’m so fucking stupid.” 

Peter’s hand reached up to capture a stray tear rolling down her cheek with his thumb. He gently wiped it away, letting his fingers push back through her hair, and lacing them against her skull. 

“You’re not stupid,” he murmured. “You were manipulated by a very bad man. If your life is full of isolation, then how could you ever know anything else? You did what you had to do to survive in the environment you were given. It’s not your fault you were born into a life like that. It’s what you do once you find out the truths that show what kind of person you really are. Look at you, Aylin. You’re not dead. You’re still here. You escaped. There is still more life out there. Don’t be like me. Don’t give up yet. You have no idea what kind of person you’re capable of becoming. Your life is just beginning. Mine is, too. We can still start fresh. They don’t deserve you, anyway.” 

“I killed her,” Aylin breathed. If he wanted to start fresh with her then he needed to know the truth. There were already too many lies in her life for her to keep anymore. “Remember that night I came to the camper and you had heard a girl screaming? They had wheeled out a young girl, a Lycan girl, inside a cage. They wanted me to kill her. I couldn’t do it. I ran back to you. I thought…” She swallowed at the lump forming in her throat. “I thought they would have killed her themselves after I ran.”

She buried her face into the towel, breathing in the scent of the motel shampoo, and closing her eyes to block out the memories as she spoke, “When I went back, when Kraven found me, he locked me in his basement. A torture chamber. It was hidden underground behind a secret bookcase. I wasn’t alone. That Lycan girl was there. She was still alive. He-” She took a deep breath. “He made me kill her this time. She was so weak. They had tortured her so badly. It was horrible. Her body was already shutting down. I think she would have died on her own had I just held off a few more hours. But I did it. I killed her. I didn’t even know her name. She wouldn’t tell me. She was young. Couldn’t be any older than 19. It was me who killed her. No one else. Just me.”

He entangled his hand from her wet hair, much to her heartbreak, and went silent. She could feel him breathing softly next to her as he mulled over what she had said. He still had the choice to leave and walk out if he judged her to be too irredeemable. 

After a quiet minute ticked by, Peter finally spoke, “I killed Kateri Deseronto’s son. He was only little. Five years old. That’s why she had me locked up when you found me. I’m responsible for his death. She wanted me to give her a new child. It was some sick, fucked up power play fueled by her grief and resentment. She lost herself the night he died. It’s hard for me to hate her, despite everything she did to me, because I felt like I deserved it. Her child is dead because of me. You said earlier that you bring death wherever you go. That you were cursed. That everyone was dead because of you.” He shook his head in disagreement. “I thought that, too, about myself. But it’s not us. I didn’t murder Kat’s son with my own hands. It was Kraven’s men who killed him. They were there because they were hunting me but I didn’t kill her son. If you look close enough, every string of blame leads straight back to Kraven the Hunter. He’s the source of everything.” 

Aylin peaked a curious eye out from the safety of her cave. Peter had propped his head up onto his hand, leaning on his side, as he looked down at her with a quiet contemplation. Suddenly, another puzzle piece fell into place. 

“Wait,” she said with a realization. She had heard that story before. She quickly sat up, forgetting she was topless, then hastily threw the towel to her chest when she saw Peter’s eyes widen. “When was that? When did the thing with Kat’s son happen?”

Peter thought for a second, his ears reddening from embarrassment, not quite understanding the gravity of what he was about to say, “I don’t know. Five years ago-ish?” He could tell by the paling look of horror on her face that something wasn’t right. “Why?”

Aylin filled her lungs with a gulp of air to try and settle her nerves, “The night my father and brother died, the night Kraven left them to die, the three of them were hunting you. Kraven told me in the basement that they had found you along with a woman and a little boy. He said that you were trying to regrow your pack after he slaughtered your last one.” 

Peter’s jaw clenched at that statement but he remained quiet. 

“He told me that they found you, he said…oh god…he said Emir ran after the woman and her son while he fought with you. He said that after he stabbed you, he fought with my father. Then he shot Emir. Then he left them both to be killed by a wolf.” Her voice lingered down to nothing but a mere whisper. “By you.”

Peter sat in a stunned silence. His eyes slipped closed and he brought his hands up to massage at his temples. With one hand keeping the towel in place, Aylin reached out with the other to gently caress his knee and drag his attention back to her. 

“I don’t blame you, Peter. It’s not your fault,” she muttered. “They were Silver Colts. They attacked you first. Like you said, everything leads back to Kraven.” 

He frantically shook his head, “No. That’s not how it happened. I told you. I never killed your family. I didn’t know…I didn’t know that was them…but I didn’t kill them. It wasn’t me. I was bleeding out after Kraven attacked me. I could barely move. Kat killed them.” 

Aylin’s eyes widened as ice froze her veins. The memory of running from the pack of wolves with Peter bursts behind her vision. A large, towering black wolf. Hunched over in the middle of the dark, slick wet, rain covered road. Heavy, smokey breaths puffing from her saliva coated jaws. She didn’t chase the car speeding away with her captive. She only stood and watched. Waiting. Plotting. 

Kat was the wolf that had killed her family. 

“Because Emir killed her son,” Aylin stated. 

He gave a solemn nod. 

Her stomach sank. She loved her family. She thought the world of them but, in their death and her grief, she had memorialized them as saints. She had stopped seeing them as people with flaws. They were people who could do no wrong. Frozen forever in her mind as the perfect father and big brother. 

But, like everything else in her life, that wasn’t always the truth. 

The world wasn’t black and white. People were all shades of gray. The people she loved and admired were capable of doing bad things. They were capable of doing wonderful, nobel things, too. They were complex, layered people. Emir could stand up for his little sister and protect her honor down to his last breath and he could also murder someone else’s child because they were associated with a Lycan. He had grown up in the same cult as she did. Generation after generation, the cycle of violence and hate would continue. 

It stopped with her. 

“Why were you with Kat and her son?” She asked. 

Peter gave a small shrug, keeping his sights set to study her face, trying to read her emotions through each little detail he could find, “She found me. She was running from her husband. He was Lycan and had turned her when they got together before she even really knew what that meant. She was young and in love with him so she ignored all the warning signs of him being an abuser. After their son was born, he got worse. Finally she decided to run but she didn’t have the experience of being a Lycan around normal people. She didn’t know how to care for her son as he started going through changes. Her husband had kept them sheltered for years. She didn’t have friends or anyone to go to. I guess she heard that my people-” He cleared his throat, struggling to speak about his pack. “She heard that I was alone. She wanted help. I told her I could help her. I told her I would try to keep them safe. I shouldn’t have done that. I knew Kraven was hunting me. I shouldn’t have had them so close but…I suppose lonely people do stupid things.” 

“Were you in love with her?” She wasn’t sure why that was the first question she asked. A strange sting of jealousy poked at her heart at the thought of him loving someone like Kat. 

A small, sad smile tugged at his lips, “No. The woman I loved is dead. Her name was Gwen. She would have wanted me to help a lost mother and her child, though. Maybe that’s why I did it. Her voice was in my head begging me to do the right thing.” He gave another shrug. “It only served to get a kid killed and look where I ended up because of it.”

Aylin licked her drying lips, “I think the person I loved is dead, too. I think Kraven killed her and her family. I thought they just left in the middle of the night but…I don’t think anyone leaves the Silver Colts without consequences. I think Kraven did it to punish me. Her name was Leah and she was beautiful. She would have liked you. She was always a bit of a rebel while I was always straight laced. She’d be amazed to know I, of all people, befriended a Lycan.” 

Peter smiled at the thought, “We are two very fucked up people with freakishly similar backgrounds.” 

Her sweet chimes of laughter filled the space between them. It felt good to laugh. Healing. 

“I think I was meant to meet you,” she breathed. “I think-” 

She stopped herself from saying what she really wanted to and shook her head to brush away the thought. 

I think you were meant to be mine. 

She rolled back onto her stomach and balled up the towel into a pillow once more, “I think you should help me put as much Neosporin as you can onto my back and then wrap it back up.”

Peter stood up to stand at the foot of the bed and clapped his hands together, “I have a better idea! I know exactly what can heal you in no time. Forget about ointments and creams. I’ve got all the cure you need right here in these veins.” 

Aylin shook her head and grimaced, “Absolutely not. I’ve drunk enough Lycan blood for one lifetime, thank you very much.”

Peter’s head jerked over to stare at her with an incredulous look, “Drank? Why are you drinking blood?”

She frowned, “That’s how Kraven is getting his superior strength. He’s drinking Lycan blood. I got only a few drops in my mouth when I killed the Lycan girl and it almost gave me a heart attack. I’m not doing that again.” 

His nose scrunched up in disgust, “Nasty. You don’t need to drink it. It’s much more effective to go blood to blood. Like, I cut my wrist and let it drip directly into your wounds. Straight to the source. It heals so much faster. I assume drinking it would take more time for it to get absorbed and lose some of its potency. Not to mention, it’s also disgusting and wrong on so many levels.” 

A tiny smile crept onto her face.

“So you’re telling me that Kraven and Calypso are gulping down blood when they could actually just be injecting it straight into their veins for better and faster results?” 

He shrugged and nodded. 

Somehow the thought of their stupidity made it more humorous. The Silver Colts really didn’t know the first thing about Lycans. All that hatred for a species they never cared to research further. 

“I still don’t want your blood. I almost died last time and then I slept for 16 hours. It was horrible,” she said. The sleeping part wasn’t actually horrible. She needed it. It was all the other stuff before that, that she’d rather never experience again. 

“That’s because you were panicking.” He said this like it should have been obvious to her. When he saw no light bulb go off over her head, he explained further. “When a human is given Lycan blood, it enhances everything. Physically, it makes you heal faster, you’re stronger, you have better eyesight and hearing and smell, your endurance and agility heighten, faster reflexes…you get it. But it also enhances your emotions. Whatever you’re feeling when it’s in your system gets enhanced. Seeing as you were running for your life through the woods, half naked, and covered in blood, your heart was racing. It would have been racing without the blood and then, suddenly, it’s going twice as fast as it ever should. You were scared and panicked. Thus, the blood made those emotions worse, which made your heart beat faster, which made it almost explode.” 

Interesting. 

She remembered how frantic Kraven’s hands had felt as he lusted after her like he could scarcely control his desires for her. She remembered how each whip from Calypso was harder and more violent than the last, like she was feeding off her own hatred towards Aylin. She remembered how scared she felt when she tumbled into her mother’s bedroom to find her missing and how the panic had felt like it consuming her every pore. 

It would make perfect sense that Lycan blood was heighting more than just their physical abilities. 

Then she remembered something else. 

“Kraven said something strange when we were in the basement. When you were fighting all those years ago, he cut your throat, and your blood landed in his mouth. Once that happened, he felt like he could no longer kill you. He walked away from the fight and left you there. Then, when he was drinking the girl in the basement's blood, he told me that he nor Calypso were able to kill her themselves. They had to wait for me to do it. He said it was like a mental block that happened.” 

The Lycan had already been dead once Aylin got a taste of her blood so she hadn’t experienced anything Kraven had described. 

Peter nodded, “I’ve heard of that happening. Figured that’s why Kraven walked away that night. I don’t know how or why it happens. It’s not like there are books that study our anatomy. I think it’s probably a last line of defense. If someone is using our blood, we become a part of them while it’s in their system. Killing the wolf that’s living temperarely inside of you would be like suicide, I imagine. I doubt it would literally kill the person but that’s how it would probably feel. You have an instinctive need for self preservation, which now includes the wolf inside of you, so you can’t bring yourself to kill them.” 

Peter’s blood is what saved him the night Kraven attacked. 

She wouldn’t mind having a part of him flowing inside her veins for a little while. 

“Promise it won’t be as bad as last time?” She asked. 

He smiled, “We’re in a motel room. You have your cat. It’s just me and you here. There is no danger. No one knows we are here. We can put on the tv and watch something chill while it works its magic. You have no need to be scared or panicked. You’ll feel heightened senses but as long as you keep your emotions calm, you’ll be okay.” 

Aylin thought it over then gave a final nod, “Fine. Do it. Whatever can heal me faster, I'll take. You and I have a lot of planning to do.”

[CHAPTER NINE]

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A/N: Please remember that writers love to listen to every tiny, little thought you’ve had about their work. If you liked something in particular, let us know! We love to hear it!

[aquilas-designs]

IT IS GOING TO BE A VERY LONG TIME BEFORE I ATTEMPT ANOTHER DRAWING ON THIS SCALE Anyway! Self-shipping ftw let's goooooooooooo

And yes, it is an ugly kitchen. If I had my own place (and money) I would absolutely decorate the kitchen as though it was still the 1970s. What can I say? I love 70's interior decor!

Edit: FUCK I just remembered I'm doing a project of multiple scenes (unrelated to this) and the next one is really complicated, I have to do another complex and fully shaded drawing AAAAAAAGH

[shivaniboutique]

A christmas party

A Christmas party with costume themes can add an extra layer of fun and excitement. Here are some festive Christmas party costume themes to consider:

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party:

Encourage guests to wear the most outrageous, funny, or mismatched Christmas sweaters they can find. Consider having a contest for the "ugliest" sweater.

Santa's Workshop Elves:

Invite guests to dress up as Santa's little helpers with elf costumes, pointy shoes, and hats. This theme works well for both adults and kids.

Winter Wonderland:

Encourage guests to dress in all-white or silver outfits, resembling a winter wonderland. Think snowflakes, icicles, and frosty accessories.

Christmas Movie Characters:

Have guests come dressed as their favorite characters from classic Christmas movies. This could include Buddy the Elf, the Grinch, Ralphie from "A Christmas Story," or characters from "Home Alone."

Gingerbread People:

Guests can dress up as gingerbread men or women, complete with gingerbread-themed accessories and perhaps some icing and candy decorations.

Christmas Carol Characters:

Invite guests to dress up as characters from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." This could include Scrooge, Tiny Tim, or the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.

Holiday Villagers:

Have guests come dressed as characters you might find in a festive village—carolers, toy makers, snowmen, and even the occasional Grinch.

Christmas in Different Decades:

Assign each guest or group of guests a specific decade (e.g., '70s, '80s, '90s) and have them dress in Christmas attire from that era.

Festive Pajama Party:

Keep it cozy by having everyone come in their favorite festive pajamas. This theme is especially great for a relaxed, at-home gathering.

Candy Cane Lane:

Ask guests to dress in red and white, resembling candy canes. You can also encourage creative interpretations, such as peppermint-inspired outfits.

Christmas Around the World:

Have guests represent different countries and their unique Christmas traditions. This can lead to a diverse and colorful array of costumes.

Naughty or Nice:

Let guests choose whether they want to dress up as a mischievous character or an angelic one. This theme can result in a fun mix of costumes.

[lunar-lakes]

just a reminder that throam ryan's apartment was probably really ugly (affectionate)

it was the 70s and he had his place decorated by keltie so it probably looked like this

(edited this post because it was cringe)

[simmer-until-tender]

Confession: I love ugly kitschy 70s decor and I don't care who knows it

[balkanradfem]

So, some of you might remember, how I found an abandoned 'banished settlement' where people used to live 20 years ago, and they left plenty of cultivated and edible plants behind, including one huge rose plant. It was spread more than 10 meters in both directions, made thousands of roses, I used to decorate my entire place with them, dry them, they didn't have a scent so I didn't make food from them. However, the city has decided to build some ugly buildings in that place, so they flattened half of the area to the ground, made it into nothing but empty dirt. Needless to say I was devastated when I went foraging and found most of my plants, including the rose, gone.

However, the rose wasn't just a plant you can run over and destroy; in the spring I found new shoots, it's starting up again from the roots, and it's not going to get exterminated so easily. I do believe they're intending to destroy it completely, so I'm going to try and rescue it by taking some cuttings and propagating it.

Here's what it used to be vs what it is now.

:(

I took a few of the most sturdy stems I could find, I had to get plant cutters in order to do it, they will not break easily. Here's me propagating them at home:

All of the leaves and growth is stripped down, because a plant without roots cannot support foliage. For roses, I think stems of 12-15cm in lenght are reccomended for propagation, that way they have enough stem to try and grow roots from, and not too much to support. I stabbed them in a pot of soil, and then covered with this big glass thing, because cuttings will usually only grow in high humidity, they need to be supplied with water from air, because they don't have roots yet. I had to cut them down a bit more to fit them in, but I think that will be okay. I watered them excessively, and sprayed the cover with water too, so it would create super humid conditions.

I left this on the kitchen window, so it doesn't have to deal with a lot of sun or heat, it's best for cuttings to be put in mild conditions so they can focus on development of roots. If they start growing new foliage, that's the sign that the propagation is successful!

Here they are 10 days later:

To me it looks like all of them are already growing new foliage, but, it's suspicious, I don't think they would have managed to grow new roots so soon, in my mind it should take a ~while~. Maybe they're just using the plant power they had stored in the stem, and haven't figured out they've been turned into cuttings yet. The only way to really check would be to pluck them out and check for roots, but I won't do it yet, I'll leave them in here for at least 2 more weeks before trying to transplant them somewhere else. But for now it looks hopeful! I might have roses on my balcony!

Here's the first post I ever made about this rose, if you wanna see more pictures of how it looked.

(edit: I later looked into how long do rose cuttings take, and it said 2 months, but it also said that in late spring, you're supposed to only take young, flexible, and not-woody cuttings, and they'll grow faster. So I have messed up a little, sturdy cuttings are to be taken in the fall and winter and they're the most difficult ones to root. It also said you need 25cm and to bury them 70% in the ground. But it seems that it's still going well so do not follow the rules! I did have one that was young and flexible and that one is showing the strongest signs of growth.)

[la-altair]

Okay so where’s my hallmark-Christmas themed psychological horror movie?

Successful City Business Woman comes back to her roots to help family in a wasteland rural town, only to find a total transformation. The downtown is no longer a derelict stretch of cracked, cratered asphalt, empty display windows and dusty ‘antique’ shops, but a bustling return to an American Hometown that never was. Everything is bright, gaudily decorated with Christmas lights and swags of evergreen, and somehow walkable. There are somehow apartments downtown now, above the shops. She goes home to one. It’s empty, both familiar and strange.

This change should feel like a relief, because it means her family’s dying bakery has a new lease on life, but something feels - off? More people than she’s ever seen show up for the annual Christmas Tree lighting - which declares itself a tradition stretching back to the town’s founding, but she can’t ever recall being an event. The cup she’s handed at the hot chocolate stall is empty. Looking around, everyone’s cups of hot chocolate are clearly empty, but they badly mime drinking. She doesn’t, just holds the empty paper cup, and earns some uneasy, vaguely hostile looks.

She doesn’t recognize anyone, either, and the fashion is…bizarre. It’s 70 degrees in the rural South in mid-December, but everyone is bundled in brightly colored sweaters. All teeth are veneer perfect and displayed widely, all cheeks attractively pinked as if from a chill, and somehow not sweating buckets in their overwarm attire.

Someone slams hard into her front, crumpling her empty paper cup against her black tshirt. ‘Goodness, I’m sorry, Miss,’ comes some sanitized, incorrect version of a Southern accent totally wrong for this part of the country. The accents here never sounded nice, but they’d been honest and they’d been home.

‘Oh goodness, I’ve made a mess of ya,’ comes that accent that is like some ugly flipped eyesore of a house, a modern, gray smear of inauthenticity.

‘My cup was empty,’ she says flatly, finally meeting his eyes.

‘Well, you seem to be covered in chocolate,’ he says with a guffaw of good cheer, and indeed, somehow she is. Tepid milk and chocolate wet the front of her, sprung from the crumpled paper of an empty disposable cup.

He insists he make it right, invites her to his apartment conveniently walking distance, it’s above a shop, but she declines to ask the obvious question. He provides her a knit Christmas sweater, red. A perfect offset to his own green.

The silent buzz of her cellphone interrupts A Moment, and something in her cries out in relief. Her boyfriend, a business man from back home in the Big City.

She takes the call. In camera view, behind her, Christmas Green Sweater glowers, and casts his eyes aside in shame.

[lovelyprincessn64]

🎄Jingle Bells Jingle Bells all I want for Christmas is you. 🎁 it is the special time of the year December a month of Christmas joy and happiness and this year I'm giving it to everyone special for everyone to enjoy🎁

Don't be shy and have a happy holidays of a lifetime:

1. 12 days of Christmas

2. Jingle the reindeer

3. Toy day

4. Hot cocoa hot tub

5. Christmas from Japan

6. Sexy Santa fan service

7. Too much eggnog

8. Any type of Christmas theme

9. Hot cocoa nights

10. Secret Santa

11. some cheese with that whine

12. Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

13. Horrific Xmas Tales

14. Icy nights

15. Snowball at Met Gala

16. Your ocs (Christmas theme)

17. Under the mistletoe

18. Home Alone

19. Cute elf

20. Kiss at the fireplace

21. Mean one Grinch

22. Christmas with Disney

23. Jingle Bells

24. Eating at grillby's

25. Don't tell on me

26. Ice Zone

27. Mythical wishes

28. Sugar plum Clefairy

29. Handsome nutcrackers

30. Dark times in Midwinter

31. Ugly sweaters

32. Drunk like crazy

33. Minty fresh

34. Shopping like crazy

35. Troublesome toys

36. Psycho Happy Fella

37. White elephant gift Exchange

38. Grumpy bah humbug

39. Candle of Hope

40. Hanukkah

41. Zombie Santa (he's from Eddsworld zanta)

42. KFC rather than turkey

43. All I Want For Christmas

44. Naughty or nice

45. Winter vacation

46. Ice skating

47. Sugar coma

48. Bayonetta's birthday

49. Delicious cake rather than fruit cake

50. Christmas prompts

51. Time of the 90s

52. Isabel's birthday

53. Retro from the past

53. Holiday High Jinks

54. Pizza dinner

55. Kiss me at midnight

56. Time for a new year

57. South Park like crazy

58. Russia's too cold for me

59. Tea party at France

60. Joyful spirit

61. Wishing for a snow day

62. Fruit cakes

63. Ready for the new year

64. Yandere surprises

65. Overwatch winter event

66. Nightmare Before Christmas

67. Gothic styles

68. Christmas with NiGHTS

69. National cookie day

70. Beauty of a snow angel

71. Just a dream

72. Special Starbucks month

73. Dangerous frostbites

74. Nintendo prizes

75. Cabin Fever

76. Cutest gingerbread

77. Happy gift big smile

78. Jolly Sora

79. Christmas with Charlie Brown

80. Horror tales Christmas

81. Winter Legends

82. Milk and cookies

83. Whipping up with cream

84. Sonic Channel arts

85. Ben 10 anniversary

86. Snowball fights

87. Lovely Vintages

88. Winter Aesthetics or Christmas Aesthetics

89. Ed Edd and Eddy

90. Once Upon a December

91. Miracles in a best way

92. Baby don't go outside

93. Christmas wedding days

94. Baking cookies

95. Redraws gifts

96. Colors of Poinsettias

97. Frosty the Snowman

98. McDonald's special

99. Aurora lights

100. Made with love

101. Wishing on a shooting star

102. Together stargazing

103. Satire of gifts

104. Ice cream dreams

105. Run Over by a Reindeer

106. Licorice taste

107. Hanging by a candy cane

108. You don't seem marry

109. Frostbite heart attack

110. Smashmas

112. My lips turn blue when I'm with you

113. Holidays with Eddsworld

114. He enjoys the feast

115. A hole in my heart a rip in the face

116. You better watch out

117. Sing along

118. Desires of a heart

119. Stealing crayons

200. Evil Candy Bar

201. Dashing through the snow

203. If I was your vampire

204. Golden hours

205. Sneaking through the fridge

206. Choices of flavors

207. Chandelier woman

208. Present from Mario

209. Playing with Game Boy

210. Decoration fun time

211. Toy store Mayhem

212. Countdown to end

213. Exotic joys

214. Dead on silver platter

215. Bacon for breakfast

216. Frozen

217. Served cold

218. Lilith and snowy

219. Coca-Cola season

220. Ornament creations

221. Animal Crossing

222. DIY times

223. Cartoon times

224. Thinking fruity

225. Wine and dine

226. Horror mix

227. Cheap chills

228. Party at Club Penguin

229. December birthdays

230. Nostalgia from the past

230. Gaming through the 90s

231. Time with coffee house

232. Makeup for a lame Christmas

233. Last Christmas

234. This year I'm giving it someone special

235. Daily activities

236. Holidays with Pokémon

237. True love gave to me

238. Making Reindeer nip

239. Got bloody

240. Dead by Christmas

241. Christmas or Halloween

242. Drink of ice coffee

243. Cookies on the Run

244. Mickey's Christmas Carol

245. Sing me a story

246. kurisumasu ni wa kentakkii

247. Woman you are a lump of coal

248. Boy to the world

249. Building gingerbreads

250. Waking within morning

251. Wonders of life

252. Fruit cakes

253. Lollipop crazy

254. Don't hike in snow

255. Frostbites

256. Sing of carols

257. Isabel's birthday

258. Holiday Bashs

259. Revenge of the snow plow

300. Colors of snow cones

301. Coffee & Mints

302. SpongeBob Christmas specials

303. Nezuko's birthday

304. For my Nezuko

303. Villain Hawks

304. Hawks's birthday

305. My favorite food is chicken

306. Hawks wearing US military uniform

307. Chibi Nezuko

308. Last minute shopper’s

311. Green Monday

310. Chocolate covered anything 

311. National cotton candy day

312. Too much cotton candy

313. Drunk idiot

314. Sacher-Torte

315. Gazpacho

316. National Cookie Cutter Day

317. Cyber Monday

318. Peppermint Bark

319. Chibi Hawks

320. National Pastry Day

321. Filo-style pastries

322. Winter lolita fashion

Note: please read the rules before requesting also if you prefer Halloween or Thanksgiving feel free to go these events also have a merry Christmas