Latest Posts by purplebasementfestival - Page 4

Oh it is my favorite character Galactic President superstar Leo Mcshizzle bad boy supreme

Leo: so, Lord Zeus. How'd you get that title, anyway?

Zeus: Gave it to myself. A real man chooses his own name.

Leo: Well,pleased to meet you, Lord Zeus. I'm Galactic President superstar Leo Mcshizzle bad boy Supreme.

Wise words

Annabeth: Leo it's your turn to give us an inspirational speech

Leo: oh uh okay um it's okay if you fall apart sometimes

Leo: I mean tacos fall apart sometimes too and we still love them

Percy, wiping a tear away: Beautiful

My fav thing ever is laughing to the point where you can't even speak and you're just there silently smacking the table and you can't breathe

ⓘ this user is a bookworm

Reading in head: I'm practically a master of linguistics my pronunciations are perfect beyond compare

Reading loud: *chokes on spit*

Yes

Reading is my therapy.

But reading is also why I need therapy.

You feel?

Harry: * breaks his leg*

Remus lupin:

Harry potter at the age of 18: too whimpy to use the killing spell against fantasy hitler

Percy jackson the CHAD at the age of 12: I am going to murder my abusive stepdad

REBLOG

Fictional lives matter

Made for Him I

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: I’m still very sick. I dug this out of my WiPs because I desperately wanna power through it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creator

On July 8th, 1822, Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned just off the coast of Livorno. His wife was famous for the resurrection of the fictional monster and the misguided doctor for whom her penultimate novel was named. Peter cradled the very one in his hand, the spine bent and the pages well worn by his habitual delve into the horror of Victor Frankenstein. 

Keep reading

An Avenger's Revenge (dark!Peter Parker)

PROLOGUE // SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Spider-Man was just one of the mighty, powerful Gods that rule the Earth. A night of death, betrayal, war and defeat turns him into a myth, a memory to be forgotten about by the other Greedy Gods that share this planet. Without his generosity, the world takes a turn for the worse and the people are desperate for a solution. With a rebellion on the horizon, it may be your only chance to rise up against the Greedy Gods and restore Spider-Man's legacy.

Themes: dystopian, futuristic, smut, angst, death!, dark concepts**, a tad bit fluff :) **T/W: will be specified per chapter - none in this one

a/n: ahhhhh here she is! my precious! hope you like :)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

There was two reasons why the deities came to Earth centuries ago. It would be hard to believe that there would be a reason at all, but alas, at the naivety of the human race, there were two. The first reason, and the most important one of them all, was the sheer abundance of untouched infinity stones buried deep beneath the surface; a currency that the deities yearn for. Rare and precious, infinity stones are a source of power to those who are strong enough to yield it and in a place where such strength doesn’t exist, not many deities considered Earth to be rich with natural, authentic infinity stones. It was mistakenly overlooked for years. However, on the night of a full moon centuries ago, a God stumbled upon the small planet and with such a find, word broke loose. All of a sudden, they all came swarming until Earth was held hostage, under the deities’ command with humans forced to feed their greed…which explains reason number two. The second pertains to the humans’ ignorance of the true value and use of the infinity stones because after all, what human could stand a chance in a race amongst the gods? Submissive and overpowered, the humans have been subjected to the deities' biddings, getting weaker and weaker while they grow stronger and richer. Reduced to nothing but servants, soldiers, miners and maids, it was a giant step backwards in societal evolution. 

Centuries on, people living now can’t imagine a world without the deities’ rule. They call themselves the Avengers now. A poor choice in name you always thought but the reasoning derives from their promise to protect the Earth if anything, or anyone, were to attack Earth to steal their precious infinity stones. A false pretence to hide their greediness, the very greediness that demanded statues of them to be erected, eight columned temples built in their honour and at least one day every year to celebrate the anniversary of their arrival. It’s all very grand and ceremonious, but their opulence doesn’t stop there, oh no. Of course, a God is only deserving of a palace to live in, built by the subjects that serve them. They emanate such holiness that many claim that to look at the very spectacle can be overwhelming, that the impenetrable black iron gates stand to symbolise their power and it’s for that reason alone that deities remain absolute in their reign.

You work for one directly. The first God to step foot on Earth and the leader to all deities who arrived thereafter, Iron Man. Staff know him better as Tony Stark. 

With the early morning sun casting an orange glow on the iron palace, you exit your bed chamber, climb the same 3 flights of stairs you see every morning and wander through the white and golden halls with your heels clicking against the marble flooring, dressed in your maids uniform. Reaching the main floor, you meet Ginny, another maid. 

“How is he this morning?” You ask, walking alongside her as you both start the long journey to the dining hall.

“He’s quickly deteriorating. His doctor said it could be any day now. I wonder how it happens.” 

“How ‘what’ happens?” 

“The death of an Avenger. No one has ever seen how an Avenger dies. They’ve been here for centuries and none of them have ever popped their clogs.” 

You snicker loudly, your smile quickly fading as you near the footmen standing by the door. Once out of sight, you whisper back to her. “‘Popped their clogs’, you make it sound like they die like any other human does.” 

“Well I don’t know, maybe they do. I can’t imagine death is any more dignified for deities than it is for human’s.”

“Whatever, I don’t really care how it happens, we know now that it’s inevitable at this point. What I’m more concerned about is what happens after he dies, you know? We have seven other Avengers in this world, all just as greedy as each other and you know Tony was top dog, his death is going to mean a breach of peace.” 

This has been a concern of yours since you first heard of Tony’s ailment. Questions fill your mind one by one and the more time ticks on towards Tony’s death, the more they are beginning to scare you. Your entire life’s purpose has evolved around your servitude to Tony Stark, Iron Man, the first deity to claim this planet, so without him, what good is a maid without her master? 

Ginny shares her empathy as she too faces the same predicament and responds with a sigh. Grown together, you would hate to be separated and given a hand that isn’t as lucky as your first. You’ve played a major role in each other's past but with your future yet to be decided, you fear she may become somebody that you used to know. 

Just as you are about to enter the dining hall to take to your stations, she grabs your hand and pulls you quietly into the corner.

“Look, you didn’t hear this from me okay? I overheard Matron mention something about Tony giving a public announcement later today. I think he’s going to pass us and the entire faction onto another Avenger.”

“What?!” 

“Shhh! I don’t know for certain, but I think he suspects what we do as well. He knows that he has the biggest faction - he wouldn’t leave it leaderless and he knows the rest will all fight for it, so if he gives it all away, there’s nothing to fight for.” 

“Who do you think it would be?” 

“I’m not sure. We border Captain America’s faction but after the rival they had decades ago, I doubt he’ll be so willing to give it to him, and I just hope it’s not Doctor Strange. My cousin, Megara, works in his faction and I heard he’s incredibly overbearing and strict. Or…it could be someone completely new.” 

“Well, whoever it is, I just hope they can treat us at least half as good as Tony has.” 

Ginny sighs and purses her lips while a touch of sadness glosses over her eyes, evidently not finding faith in your optimism. “I know. I’m going to miss the old bastard.” 

“Yeah, me too. Come on. We better go.” 

Being the latest generation of a long line of maids, you’re lucky to have been given the opportunity to work directly for the leader of the Avengers, and he is - surprisingly - the most lenient of them all. You guess there was something about the guilt of enslaving a native species centuries ago that plagued him and over the decades he outgrew his reputation of being cynical, power-hungry and arrogant, and became the reverent leader that the other deities had no other option but to respect. Within any field of executive power, there is ranking and despite how omnipotent and divine these deities seem to be in their own right, they too abide by a hierarchy. Otherwise it would all-out war between the Greedy Gods. There are exactly eight of them residing on Earth each living within their own faction of the world which have been offered to them by Tony on one condition - ‘take what you are given and no fighting’ were his exact words, the very same inscripted onto the Avengers’ oath displayed on every Avenger temple. It’s the only rule the deity’s live by. 

Despite being your master, Tony is the closest thing to a father figure in the sense that he provides and protects. Your biological father was sent away to the mines as part of the mandatory three-year conscription, but even after his conscription was completed, he chose to stay knowing that you and your mother were being cared for and he was happy with employment. 

Conscription varies from faction to faction, for example, Tony has the largest faction with the largest population, so what Tony’s men dig in a year, Black Widow’s smaller faction may have to dig for 2 years to match. Another difference is the attitude. Here, it’s common for men to enrol voluntarily after conscription because Tony’s conditions are the most favourable in the world. He offers breaks and benefits, extra perks like insured healthcare and a pension, whereas Doctor Strange’s conditions, for example, are foul, laborious and completely inhumane but necessary if he wants to remain a competitor in the deity race. In simpler words, if you’re going to work for someone, you want it to be Tony. Not that you have a choice in the matter…

Just as you take your stations, Tony is wheeled into the dining room. It breaks your heart to see him so frail, an almost comatose body rolling up towards the table where a small bowlful of fruit, muesli and bread sit waiting for him. He doesn’t even get dressed out of his robe that hangs daintily from his shoulders, his glowing blue metallic heart on display; the thing that has been keeping him alive all this time. Its shine isn’t as bright as you remember it and its colour has been losing its vibrancy over the last few weeks, dulling to the same grey that stains his skin. His salt and pepper hair has faded into a soft white in patches but for a deity at this stage in life, vanity is the last thing he cares for. 

“Morning, sir,” you and Ginny both greet. Tony passes you both a weak smile, not quite reaching his eyes. You both begin dishing out his breakfast, pouring his drink and brewing his coffee.

“Do me a favour girls, will you?” His voice is broken up by a hacking, wheezing cough. “Sit with me?” 

You and Ginny mirror the same hesitance, knowing that doing so would be entirely inappropriate for people of your calibre. It isn’t lost in Tony’s eyes and makes one final plea. “Please. It may be my last breakfast, I would hate to spend it alone.” 

Conceding, you sit by his right and Ginny follows seconds later on his left, the food remaining untouched. Formalities quickly simmer and sitting here with Tony and Ginny as the golden sunlight beams in through the 15 foot windows, you seem to be at ease but underneath it all, a melancholy aura floods the room. 

“I…” Tony starts, sitting upright. “I…wanted to say thank you to you both. I know that hasn’t been said often - I’m aware of that - but today, I really mean it. Your families have served me well and I intend to serve you well after my…strangely imminent passing.”

Yet another silent conversation is shared between you and Ginny. This time it’s a look of ‘what is he going to say?’ 

Tony opens his mouth again but the words don’t leave his lips, stopped by a reluctance that consumes him. Your heart stops dead in your chest. 

“My…passing leaves my staff, my faction and my inheritance vulnerable, and I have no doubt that the other psychos in this world will want to snatch it for themselves. Call it my better nature but I can’t…I won’t leave you in the hands of Rogers or Strange or even Thor, despite them being the obvious choice for a successor. So…” he waves his hand dismissively, “I’ve decided that you’re now Parker’s.” 

“Spider-Man?” you confirm. 

“Yes. Spider-Man. Peter Parker. He’s the only one I can trust to not treat my inheritance as an invitation for world domination.” He laughs half-heartedly and it descends into a fit of coughs and you’re by his side in seconds. The flickering of the blue metal heart catches your peripheral and you sense that something’s failing. 

“Sir, we should-” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Now, I’ve been assured that the transaction will be quick and peaceful, and that the conditions will be strictly adhered to and by Gods there will be a serious haunting if anything doesn’t go according to plan.” Tony’s chuckle brings about a smile to your lips. He really is serious about taking care of what he leaves behind. Part of you believed he was all talk. 

“Sir? What have we to do once…once you pass?” 

Tony reaches over and places a shaky hand over yours as if to reassure you. “Nothing. You are to remain where you are. My passing won’t change anything for you or this faction; it’s a condition I made clear to Parker if he truly wants to claim his endowments. Everything will remain the same except it’ll just be Parker walking around these halls instead.” 

“What’s he like?” Ginny asks. It’s a question that circles your mind too. 

“Young, fair, perhaps a tad naive for my liking, but…capable. That kid’s got some serious potential. He’ll be the first Avenger to own two factions, one of which is the biggest so girls, by all means, don’t let that get to his head and believe me, I know it will, so you have my expressed permission to humble him every now and then, got it?” 

Everyone knows that his late arrival to the planet meant that Peter Parker owned the smallest faction. One that borders the most eastern side of Tony’s and across the water. His income of infinity stones is not nearly as substantial as the other deities before him and it often puts him in the firing line for endless teasing. You once heard of a rumour that the other deities nickname him ‘slim pickings’, taking only what was left of the unclaimed and the unwanted. Of course, Tony - being the reformed man that he is - chooses to take pity on him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes of what it means to be a God amongst commoners. And now he’s about to become your God.

“Sure.” 

Content, Tony looks over solemnly to the map of the world displayed on the wall at the far end of the room. The framed, hand-painted map is a 2D landscape of the world showing the division of the eight factions, colour coded and labelled with the name of the Avenger that owns it. “I just wish the others were capable of being humbled too. I worry about how they’ll react when they hear Parker’s getting everything--”

“You haven’t told them?” 

“Pfft, no of course not. Do you think I want Capsicle and Point Break squawking in my ear about what they’re not getting in my final days? Hell no! I can’t think of a worse way to go. I’ll leave that burden with Parker, it can be his first lesson.” 

“And…what if they don’t accept it?” Your words speak the thought as it materialises in your head, and when Tony turns to you with a dejected sigh, you know the same thought has passed through his mind too. The truth is, Tony has been acutely aware of that possibility for a while, that in order for the desired outcome, it relies heavily on his legacy of being the ‘leader’ and whether or not the other Avengers will uphold that respect they have for him, even in death. It’s been years after all. Who’s to say that the Avengers haven’t been getting bored? Tony’s perception of his legacy may not be as revered as he hopes it to be. 

“It’s fine,” Tony shrugs but it’s rather unconvincing. “Everything will go according to plan.” 

>>>> Chapter 1

If your plot feels flat, STUDY it! Your story might be lacking...

Stakes - What would happen if the protagonist failed? Would it really be such a bad thing if it happened?

Thematic relevance - Do the events of the story speak to a greater emotional or moral message? Is the conflict resolved in a way that befits the theme?

Urgency - How much time does the protagonist have to complete their goal? Are there multiple factors complicating the situation?

Drive - What motivates the protagonist? Are they an active player in the story, or are they repeatedly getting pushed around by external forces? Could you swap them out for a different character with no impact on the plot? On the flip side, do the other characters have sensible motivations of their own?

Yield - Is there foreshadowing? Do the protagonist's choices have unforeseen consequences down the road? Do they use knowledge or clues from the beginning, to help them in the end? Do they learn things about the other characters that weren't immediately obvious?

[ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ] ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ

sparks when skin brushes skin

secret smiles

checking to see what they think

seeing an object and thinking of them

hugs that last a beat too long

looking for them in a crowd

holding hands and that's all they can think of

rubbing comforting circles into their skin

laughing more around them

friends pointing [it] out

acting without thinking then checking to see how they reacted

lighting up when you see them

inside jokes

leaving notes

signing off a written correspondence with a kiss or "love"

accidentally referencing them as "my"

nicknames

comfort in their presence

personal gifts

growing really close really quickly

knowing what they'll say

feeling a flutter after something they've done dozens of times

they start analyzing everything to guess if it's romantic or not

face turning red when they get too close

face turning red when they think of them

smiling more easily

glowing after a nice remark and having it pointed out

overanalyzing what others say about them both

thinking maybe...

requested by anon

ꜱʜᴏᴡ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ (ɪɪ)

fear - open mouth - backing away - fake smiles - hugging themselves - long / dragged breaths - rocking

jealousy - snide remarks - darting looks - self-deprication - visible judging - folded arms - arguing a fair point

hurt - steadying breaths - overly bobbing head - teary - anger - trembling - pressed lips - insisting everything is 'fine'

lying (ticks) - picking at nails - touching hair - licking lips - laughing too loud - avoids subjects - won't meet eyes

worry - reaching out physically - pursing lips - looking to others - reassuring smiles - looking you up and down - tilted head - sympathetic nod

shame - will not meet eyes - feet turned away - teary - desperate - fidgeting - begging

humiliation - lashes back - cheeks flush - palms turn sweaty - face frowns -> brows scrunch, lips pull back - teary

love - looks for approval - blushing / turning red - clammy palms - nervous around certain people - laughs hard - turning clumsy - slip of thought

Soft touch prompts

Those types of touches that are feather-like and make you feel tingly in a good way. Touches like:

Face

The soft caress of your lips after the very first kiss.

Caress to the cheek after a moment together.

Gentle wipe of your spilled tears after heavy arguments, a simple gesture that shows you how sorry they are for making you shed sad tears instead of happy ones.

Gentle wipe of dirt on your cheek after enjoying your food too much.

Chin lift to make you look directly at their eyes that just make you follow aimlessly and without much force really. (bonus if they kiss afterward)

When they hold your face in their hands and just look into your eyes and just hold the other softly.

When they lightly wipe the blood off your lip from bitting it too often and softly "kiss it better"

Helping you gently put your earring on and tuck a hair behind your ear to inspect how the accessory looks beautiful on you with or without them.

Helping you put your necklace on and sneak a quick kiss on your neck before complimenting you.

Softly pulling your hair back after being food poisoned.

Worriedly inspecting your temperature after noticing your lack of mood and giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

Hands/Arms

Soft hand touches with a light comforting squeeze that instantly assures you they're there.

Softly massaging your hands when you ask them politely.

Loosely holding your hand while you watch and walk around on your date.

Cradling your cut finger after an incident with the knife and tending to your wound with a kiss afterward.

Caressing the back of your hand absentmindedly.

Softly toying with your ring and wondering when they'll get to replace it with a wedding ring.

Softly running their hands on your arms and feeling how cold to the touch your skin is before wrapping you in a hug to share their warmth.

Softly pulling your wrist to pull you closer to them.

softly intertwining your fingers together to hold your hand or twirl you in the middle of the night dance session.

Edit: holy heck guys!!! Thank you all so much for the notes and reblogs!!! I didn't expect this to get this much attention!!! Love you guys!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Rings of Gas Giants

l Uranus (Chandra) l Neptune, Jupiter (Webb) l Saturn (Cassini)

Webb’s latest image is the clearest look at Neptune’s rings in 30+ years, and our first time seeing them in infrared light. Take in Webb’s ghostly, ethereal views of the planet and its dust bands, rings and moons. (Some of these rings have not been detected since Voyager 2 flew by in 1989!)

Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, and STScI

New Webb Image Captures Clearest View of Neptune’s Rings in Decades

Webb captured seven of Neptune’s 14 known moons: Galatea, Naiad, Thalassa, Despina, Proteus, Larissa, and Triton. Neptune’s large and unusual moon, Triton, dominates this Webb portrait of Neptune as a very bright point of light sporting the signature diffraction spikes seen in many of Webb’s images.

Credits: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI

With October just around the corner, NASA has released its latest Galaxy of Horrors posters. Presented in the style of vintage horror movie advertisements. As fun and creative as all three posters are, they're based on real phenomena. 🎃

Can you hear this exoplanet screaming?

As HD 80606 b approaches its star from an extreme, elliptical orbit, it suffers star-grazing torture that causes howling, supersonic winds and shockwave storms across the planet. Its torturous journey boils its atmosphere to a hellish 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit every 111 days, roasting both its light and dark sides. HD 80606b will never escape this scorching nightmare.

This bone-chilling force will leave you shivering alone in terror!

An unseen power is prowling throughout the cosmos, driving the universe to expand at a quickening rate. This relentless pressure, called dark energy, is nothing like dark matter, that mysterious material only revealed by its gravitational pull. Dark energy offers a bigger fright: pushing galaxies farther apart over trillions of years, leaving the universe to an inescapable, freezing death in the pitch black expanse of outer space.​

Cygnus X-1 Presents:

It’s Dinner Time and You’re The Meal!

Lurking in our galaxy, approximately 6,000 light-years from Earth, is a monster named CygnusX-1. This black hole, which has about 14.8 times the mass of our Sun, will stretch and squeeze anything it captures in its immense gravity. Cygnus X-1 is waiting, snacking on its neighboring star. Don’t get too close, or you’ll become its next meal!

This chillingly haunted galaxy mysteriously stopped making stars only a few billion years after the Big Bang! It became a cosmic cemetery, illuminated by the red glow of decaying stars. Dare to enter, and you might encounter the frightening corpses of exoplanets or the final death throes of once-mighty stars.

Something strange and mysterious creeps throughout the cosmos. Scientists call it dark matter. It is scattered in an intricate web that forms the skeleton of our universe. Dark matter is invisible, only revealing its presence by pushing and pulling on objects we can see. NASA’s Roman Space Telescope will investigate its secrets. What will be revealed?

In the depths of the universe, the cores of two collapsed stars violently merge to release a burst of the deadliest and most powerful form of light, known as gamma rays. These beams of doom are unleashed upon their unfortunate surroundings, shining a million trillion times brighter than the Sun for up to 30 terrifying seconds. No spaceship will shield you from the blinding destruction of the gamma ray ghouls!

These doomed worlds were among the first and creepiest to be discovered as they orbit an undead star known as a pulsar. Pulsar planets like Poltergeist and its neighboring worlds, Phobetor and Draugr, are consumed with constant radiation from the star’s core. Nothing but the undead can subsist in this most inhospitable corner of the galaxy.

This far-off blue planet may look like a friendly haven – but don’t be deceived! Weather here is deadly. The planet’s cobalt blue color comes from a hazy, blow-torched atmosphere containing clouds laced with glass. Howling winds send the storming glass sideways at 5,400 mph (2km/s), whipping all in a sickening spiral. It’s death by a million cuts on this slasher planet!

i'm cryinnnn

Strip tease 💀💀

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

I dreamt that there was a new meme that went, “If I dids it, I dids it. If I didsn’t, I didsn’t.” There was a third line, but I forgot what it was.

reblog if you are ASEXUAL, support ASEXUAL PEOPLE, or SECRETLY A DRAGON IN HUMAN FORM

Reblog to give the person you reblogged it from the energy to do one (1) chore or maybe many

Y'all I just had a brilliant visual novel idea. Imma call it "The Apple Farm"

It'll be about an orchard of apples owned by a mysterious man that has many folktales about it. All of them saying it's not wise to stay after dark.

One story says it's because Satan visits when he's craving a snack, another story says it's because the reaper is rumored to lure people to their deaths, another story says it's because a demonic man escaped an asylum and hunts people for fun- a lot of stories and legends! A bunch!

with so many stories, you set out to find out the real reason no one should stay after dark

only to find that every story was true, and all of the scary fairytales are real.

and yes- they're all gonna be yandere for you. They'll either come together or fight one another off. AHH. I WANNA MAKE THIS!!!

Tell me what you think, this sounds so fun to play around with AU wise lol

-Mommabean (is on zero sleep please forgive me)

God this gave me goosebumps

We Need to Talk About Peter (dark!Peter Parker)

Summary: There's something not right about Peter. Why is no one talking about it? Themes: angst, horror w/c: 4.2k a/n: I wanted to write something a little darker based loosely on the book We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I didn't want to romanticise anything, this is simply just a story and NOT a 'peter parker x reader' even if it might be tagged as such. Please take the time to read the warnings as this is about a topic that is triggering. Also, this is a reminder to keep yourselves safe out there, especially in places where gun control isn't as enforced as it should be.

T/W: SCHOOL SHOOTING, BULLYING, VIOLENCE, SUICIDE, DARK CONTENT AHEAD! VERY RAW! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

MASTERLIST

Every school has one: that detached, isolated person who sits at the back of the class, having no intention of uttering a word to anyone that approaches them. The deviant nobody pays attention to because, after many fruitless attempts, it is simply too difficult to connect with them through any means of communication. To everyone's knowledge, they're just a name and a body and nothing further. A walking, empty soul that floats around the school. A blank canvas who has yet to leave an imprint on society but with no personality, no emotion and no social background, it seems highly unlikely they ever will.

Every school has one regardless. But none of those other schools ever had someone quite like Peter.

Now Peter contained all of the typical symptoms. Quiet, restricted, invisible. Oftentimes you would pass him in the corridor with the hint of a bruising or a red blemish developing on his face just minutes after being harassed by someone who didn't quite understand him. Not necessarily saying that you did, but you knew more than anyone else that there was something psychologically obscure about him; something that wasn't to be reconciled with. Everyone else disregarded him and blamed it on a defect of character, but what struck you about him was the way he would never stray from that stone cold expression, you never saw any other emotion donning his face. No fear, no pain, nothing. But that was just typical Peter.

You couldn't ignore how much it bothered you that everyone was completely blind to his very distinct anti-social behaviour. The teachers paid him no mind because he did the work, he was a grade A student, and his family background checks were completely healthy. So as long as he was able to conform to the school rules and there was no trouble at home, then it was assumed that having no personality was his personality.

Indeed, he was unique. But not in the way that everyone thought because he embodied something that no one else had. Something that exhorted him to exceed his reputation and do the unthinkable.

He had a motive.

~~~~

Your day at school is like any other. Your English literature work basks in the sun, shining its rays onto your desk as if it was mocking you, reminding you that once again you are stuck in school with work at your fingertips. English isn't your favourite but it's tolerable. The class isn't half bad, the teacher knows what he's doing and maybe about a third of the course sparks your interest. The other two thirds you fall asleep to.

The other dilemma is your partner, Peter. Having the misfortune of sitting next to him, it is inevitable that when teamwork projects come along you will always be paired with him. You have to give it to him though, he never fails you when it comes to putting in the effort. He's smart, clever and a little too cunning for your liking. This particular feature about him you try to suppress when it gets the better of you, knowing all too well that he gets enough shit from everyone else. The least you could do is persevere and expand your patience.

It's team project day and as instructed by your teacher you turn towards your partner. Your skin turns cold when you notice a purple haze grazing his cheek amongst the red undertones of his skin, where the traces of tears are obvious to the eye. Like you say, he gets enough shit from everyone else. The last thing he needs is for you to be the same. With a hesitant smile on your lips and a spark of optimism growing, you present your findings to Peter.

"Okay, so I spent 3 hours last night doing analysis and evaluation on chapter 3. I also started making the template for our presentation which I can do if you're totally not up for it. It's cool. And I know you're supposed to be doing quotes but..."

You can't help but drag your eyes over his bruising face, thinking how could anyone have the insolence to hurt someone as innocent as Peter? As your commiserate eyes skim over the last detail of his beatings he turns, catching you staring at his face.

"I-I could them if you don't want to?" Of course he doesn't reply, which is what you expect. However you're too quick to judge as he rips out a piece of paper from his notebook and begins scribbling.

'No, it's okay I'll do them.'

You read the words in your own voice simply because you don't know what his sounds like. Nevertheless, it's still something. He usually doesn't tend to write anything to anyone.

"Are you sure?"

Miraculously, he nods. After finalising his decision, you both put your heads down and focus on your work in silence, just how you both like it.

~~~~

That was all you got from him that day. That week, even. As the month progressed you noticed that Peter, however impossible it seemed, was becoming evermore unresponsive. Every period of English that you endured felt like a battle just trying to get him to even look at you. He wouldn't move other than to blink and to breathe.

He had done all of his work for the team project in four days. Something that was supposed to last 2 weeks had been completed in four days. You, on the other hand, were completely flooded with work, desperately trying to catch up with his work ethic, but even then, you were still working on finishing touches up until the day before the presentation was due.

You can understand why he did it so quickly: spending the free time he granted himself in complete ignorance because he didn't have any work to do, and left you helplessly trying to complete your half of the project in a scramble. You knew you had delegated the work equally, but showing a little decency to help you out wouldn't have harmed anyone. However, you decided not to pester him about it.

And it's a good thing you didn't. Otherwise you might've ended up like the others.

~~~~

On the day before presentation day you decide to stay in school late, running through your presentation and perfecting every detail of it. You want it to be flawless. Especially since you won't be having any assistance presenting it no thanks to a certain stubborn mute.

Under Spring's pink sky you walk home constantly being tormented by the craving of a good night's sleep. With the team project no longer occupying your mind, you take your time enjoying the view around you. That is until you turn the corner. Your view is now being hindered by a certain, lonesome, stubborn mute walking ahead of you. His back is turned and you notice a heavy rucksack clinging to his back as he drags it along the pavement. What could he possibly be carrying that's so heavy? Intrigued, you track every footstep remembering to keep your distance.

Something else comes into view in the distance. Three, no, four boys you recognise strut round the corner, obnoxiously laughing as they advance on Peter with nothing but mischief in their predatory eyes. Those boys are the recipe for trouble and you fear that the nice weather isn't the reason for their little stroll through the neighbourhood. Specifically one that Peter inhabits. Your heartbeat picks up as Peter fails to avoid them, refusing to break his stride until he and the boys come face to face. His feet are rooted to the ground and his statue-like stance doesn't convey any form of fear. He should really run if he knows what's best for him.

Their voices are muted. Words are mumbled. You can't hear a damn thing but yet you still remain hidden behind a parked car watching very intently as the scene unfolds before you. In amongst the irritated voices, you know for a fact that none of them are Peter's. 

"ANSWER ME!" The boy's quick to slap Peter's face. The piercing sound so disturbing it leaves you wincing, cowering even further into your cover knowing that it was only the beginning and the worst is yet to come.

Still, Peter's reactions cease to exist. There is simply nothing that will make him bat an eyelid, even if it means slapping him in the face to test the theory. Empty-handed, the boys grow impatient, desperately waiting for something exciting to happen. They think that if they aggravate Peter further, he'll break and retaliate, giving them what they want and have never seen before: a reaction.

They never learn their lesson. They won't get one, no matter what they do.

"Fuck this," the other one says, and gives Peter a mighty blow to the face, one that's capable of breaking his jaw, and sweeps him clean off his feet. After the initiation, it's like a monkey-see-monkey-do situation. One kicks, the others kick. One punches, the others follow. The whole thing makes you sick to the stomach. Peter's body is constantly being beaten around, twitching and jerking lifelessly with the sounds of bones cracking, and laughter ringing through the air.

"STOP!" you hear your own voice yelling, suddenly realising now that your legs are carrying you towards them. "STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

The boys look at you with confusion riddling their face, questioning why someone like you would defend someone like Peter. One of them even mutters your name through his heavy breathing, exhausted from beating Peter senselessly. You take your stance in front of Peter, defending him from the boys.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Huh? He didn't do a fucking thing to you, and you think it's okay to beat him up?"

"Back off, this is none of your business," one of them has the audacity to say.

"You fuck with Peter, you make it my business. Now you fuckwits better leave because that old woman over there witnessed the whole thing from her living room and is probably on the phone to the police right now. So unless you want to spend the night in custody I'd suggest that you back off."

They leave accordingly knowing how much being involved with the police would jeopardise their precious football careers, but not without getting a last word in.

"Left a little surprise for your aunt when she gets home, Parker. I'm sure you'll enjoy it too."

~~~~

That surprise was the last straw for Peter. You helped him hobble home to discover the words 'slut' spray painted across the side of his aunt’s car. Not only that, but as you looked up to the apartment building you couldn't miss the numerous egg stains and little shards of shell scattered across the glass panes of his windows. You remember very distinctly the prominent lump in your throat when you saw what they had done to his home, thinking that nobody should ever have to go through something as debilitating as that.

You knew well enough Peter didn't show emotion, but after seeing the atrocities blatantly displayed across the Parker property, there should've been at least something, even just a hint of anger somewhere inside him. A clue or gesture of some sort that would prove that he's actually human would have sufficed.

There was absolutely nothing.

He walked the remaining distance into the building independently and slammed the door. Hearing that slam was like a wash of relief. It was the result of anger, frustration and fury. That alone was enough to convince you that there was something inside him that was capable of feeling emotion. 

But for him, though, it wasn't enough.

~~~~

You make your presence known at the front of your class, anxiously waiting to get this presentation over and done with. Your eyes peer over to Peter's empty desk thinking how he should be here. As mysterious as he is, you can't understand why he isn't here, he's never skipped class and would never think to tarnish his 100% attendance record. You know giving presentations isn't his thing, but he could've at least shown you some moral support.

Pfft, yeah right.

You shrug the thought away before it bothers you even more and without delay, you begin your presentation.

"Lionel Shriver is the author of the 2003 novel We Need to Talk About Kevin which-"

Your words are cut off by four, angry shots echoing down the hallway, followed by a heart-stopping scream. Your eyes whip to the open door and in that moment you feel like your mind is absent, stunned in the disbelief of what you just heard. You try to move but you find that your muscles have stiffened, paralysed with fear and complete panic.

More shots follow, even louder than before. Your teacher yells at you to take cover which you do eventually after an unnecessarily delayed reaction, but your ears are ringing and everything you see has morphed into a blur.

The shooter is three...two...one footstep away from the classroom. Your sensitive ears pick up the murmurations of sobs, whimpers and sheer panic effusing from your classmates. But there's nothing more deafening than the heavy tread of the shooter's steps pacing slowly into the classroom. 

Silence. It's just absolute, unadulterated silence. The longer it continues, the more the anticipation strangles you.

"Hmmm, where is she?" His smooth, puckish tones are unrecognisable but just as equally terrifying. You can't seem to get a good look at his face; the front panel of the teacher's desk obstructs your view. "She must be in here somewhere..." She? Who's she? You make eye contact with your teacher who presses his index finger to his lips as he too hides under the desk. Whilst the shooter wanders around the room at an unbearable pace, you distract yourself by counting to ten, praying that it'll calm your uneased mind. It's completely illogical but right now anything will help.

One.

It's almost impossible to pinpoint exactly where he is based on your judgement of sound. He could be anywhere, ready to pounce.

Two.

You close your eyes, inhaling and exhaling.

Three.

He fires two warning shots into the ground and even seconds after you can still feel the harsh repercussions of the bullets hitting the ground. Screams and cries of mercy fill the room. Bits and pieces of the floor ricochet.

Four.

You have to force yourself to clamp your hand over your mouth before you end up exposing yourself to him.

Five.

"Oh look, our presentation's on the board!" There's something chilling about his words; his taunting yet playful voice emphasises the word 'our', giving you a perfectly obvious clue as to who the perpetrator is.

You know it, but the thought can't process through your dazed mind any slower. Our. He said 'our'. You and...Peter. That answers the question why you were unable to recognise his voice. He's the shooter. And he's looking for you.

Six.

An abrupt shriek emits from a girl's mouth, one you recognise as your friend Ellis.

"Is she under that desk over there?" His cool tones are still heard despite Ellis's cries and desperate pleas. You don't hear her answer, but your guess is that he didn't need one. Adrenaline settles in and your eyes grow wide in the unprecedented fear of what is about to happen. His footsteps, unlike before, are quick and thunderous as they stalk closer and closer.

Sev-

"Found you!"

Despite his deceptive body frame, his brute force drags you out from hiding in seconds. The first thing that comes into your mind is his gun. That small but powerful TEC-9 gun is secure in Peter's clutches. Instinctively, your awareness of the threat that you face takes priority in your mind and you watch it with cautious eyes. You’ve never seen a gun up close before, and now that Peter waves it around aimlessly in front of you, you realise the very real danger it poses. All it takes is one single bullet. The very thought makes you shudder.

Like an ornament, Peter presents you to the class, body stiff and unresponsive. He stands to your left, his hand crawling up your spine while the other points the gun to the ground. You just hate the way your name rolls off his tongue, unfamiliar in his voice. What does he want with you?

"I won't harm you. I just want you to point out the bastards who attacked me."

~~~~

In that situation, you had no idea what to do. It was their life, or yours. You spent what felt like hours convincing Peter that they weren’t there as their pleading eyes begged to keep them safe, but Peter had figured it out for himself after a total rampage of the classroom. There were only two of the four of those boys in your class at that moment. Perhaps if they hadn't been in your English class they would still be alive.

But unfortunately that wasn't the case.

From that class alone, 3 died and 5 were fatally injured. Peter thankfully spared the lives of the others to continue the search of the two remaining boys from that night. Of course, he took you with him as a hostage for leverage and protection. Every part of Peter was raw. For the first time you were able to see his true self, seeing beneath the silent facade he had hidden behind for so long. You wish you hadn't.

The whole thing seemed like a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. The memories are drilled into you now: the blood splattered across the walls, lifeless bodies lying there for everyone to see the damage that had been caused. That will never leave you.

~~~~

"Peter," you whimper, clinging on to the newly discovered shrapnel wounds on your arm. He turns but he doesn't stop walking. "Why are you doing this?"

That stops him. He eases the pressure from around your arm just slightly. His presence becomes threatening, the distance between you narrows and you're now staring into the face of a cold-blooded killer. Words pass his lips in a cool manner that is strikingly discomforting, especially coming from someone who has just massacred a school. There's only one thing audible in these narrow corridors; your throbbing pulse, drowning out any exterior noise.

"I won't harm you," he repeats, however you still fear that you can't take his word for it. His hand snakes up towards your face and catches your jawline in between his fingers and his thumb, forcing you to look at him. He's always tried to avoid all eye contact, but now that he's surrendered himself to his emotions it's the only thing he's after. "I have been putting up with their shit for long enough. I have been in this silence for long enough. I have waited long enough. If it's a reaction everyone is wanting, then here it is," he spits through gritted teeth. Peter overshadows you with his authority, his presence looming over your fear and manipulating it. You have no other choice but to submit yourself to be a vital part in his vengeance.

You both travel further deeper into the heart of the school. The number of people that still remain inside is unknown but presuming that most people haven’t made their escape, Peter leads you to the classroom where the other two boys should be. Before Peter breaches and parades in, he turns and gives you one last slice of insight.

"You know why I finished the work so quickly?" he asks but you don't respond. "So I could spend my time planning this. It was going to happen on graduation, but after what they did to me I couldn't wait any longer." His malicious chuckle makes you quiver.

"Peter, y-you're only j-just going to spend the r-rest of your days in p-prison."

"Then so be it."

~~~~

A further 6 people died and another 20 were injured. True to his word, Peter got the revenge he was craving. Everyone who hurt him, everyone who pestered him and treated him like he was nothing paid the consequences that Peter had set out for them. In amongst the tragic deaths and the numerous injuries, you were spared. As thankful as you may be, you are just as equally guilty. You should've been on that list of deaths, you should've been suffering like the others did. After all, you were his only hostage. But you survived with as little as a couple of shrapnel injuries to recover from.

Once Peter had achieved his objective, he was just having fun. He didn't need you anymore but yet he still dragged you everywhere like a dog on a leash. If the leash was a gun. Peter made you watch him continue his killing spree and you remember counting up the number of lives he had taken. Ten, eleven, twelve...

With each life he took, you grew a certain abhorrence towards yourself because you didn't prevent it. The signs were there, clear as day. Quiet, restricted, invisible. The victim of harassment and bullying. Smart. Cunning. Psychologically obscure. Carrying heavy loads. These weren't the symptoms of a typical Peter. These were the symptoms of a typical terrorist. He was given the perfect ammunition, all he had to do with flick the switch and like that he became a murderer.

~~~~

"Please, Peter, stop this-"

"No."

"I want to leave-"

"No."

"Why?! Why me?! Why am I different from everyone else?"

"Because you cared!" His loud voice resonates around the perimeter of the deserted canteen. You cautiously follow his movements as he perches himself upon the lunch tables, swinging his gun around as if it was nothing more than a mere toy. He stands proudly upon his podium once again unleashing his very dangerous emotions that have no sense of direction. Standing very defensively in the corner of the canteen with beads of sweat trickling down your spine, you can feel Peter's eyes burn holes through your body like it's your 6th sense. You're muttering something about wanting to leave, but tears don't help with articulation.

"Think of it this way then," he jumps off the table, striding towards you with a dubious expression donning his face. You don't feel yourself breathing, but you know there's oxygen flooding your lungs. Your gut clenches, fingernails dig deep into your palms when he firmly presses the muzzle of the gun against the side of your head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you right now."

He's right. You did care. Much more than anyone else did. That's what kept you alive.

~~~~

When Peter pressed that gun against your head, you had never felt closer to death. Oxygen didn't pass through your lungs and even though it was only for a couple of seconds, it felt like a lifetime. You were stuck in a state of fear and anticipation, and you're certain Peter was too. Even he couldn't predict his next actions.

His time as a murderer was short lived. The relief that had washed over you when the police had barged through the doors to your rescue was indescribable. You knew from then on that maybe, your life was still waiting to be lived. Peter, on the other hand, had destroyed his. Guaranteed.

You could never forget how Peter lit up like a Christmas tree with the amount of red dots that smothered him head to toe. The canteen was soon flooded with angry yells and authoritative demands to drop his weapon, but with his eyes fixated on yours he chose to ignore them.

Whatever strategy Peter adopted that made it easy for him to conceal his emotions before, it didn't help him then. Looking into his glassy eyes when he finally accepted his fate, all you could see was nothing but sheer despair and defeat outlined by the tears threatening to fall. He was human. He was alive with emotions. He just didn't know how to use them. Once they were out, they were outwith his control.

It looked like it was all over. Your future was secured and you were able to live another day now that the police force had him surrounded.

But you were wrong. It wasn't over yet.

Until they officially intervened, both of you were locked in that position nobody would ever dream of being in. Evident in Peter's hazel eyes, you recognised that knowing look of deviance. It took you less than a split second to realise that Peter still had something up his sleeve. A conversation was held but there were no words shared between you; the feeling was mutual. You both knew what was going to happen. He still had one more battle to fight, he still had one more life to take.

"I'm sorry."

He whispered his last words to you before he took the gun, held it up towards his head and pulled the trigger, adding another name onto the list of the deceased.

Peter Parker and 12 others died that day. And you, along the hundreds of others, were traumatised and scarred by his actions. So much so that you remember that day like it was yesterday, the memories still fresh in your mind even years after it happened. Other schools, teachers, friends, family couldn't imagine the pain and horror that will forever be a part of you, none of them could ever know what it was like.

Because none of them will ever know someone quite like Peter.