the princess stayed in the tower and read books about better girls, where their hands learned how to hold swords, where they rode in on horses. i gave her books as often as i could. she devoured them.
her princes saw her and pretended to be scared off by dragons. got too lost in the thicket. didn’t want to handle it.
“tell me what it’s like, out there,” she whispers to me for the millionth time. i take her from The Throne into her bed, tucking her in and making sure her feet are covered.
“boring without you” i say as always, “but i did bring back a great story.”
i tell her about how the stars change beyond the equator. how there are places it looks like there are twin suns. how the desert crawls into you but so does snow. i talk about the taste of fruit and promise to bring her back some. she falls asleep while i murmur about rivers, and then in the morning i bring her from bed to Throne, even though she can do it on her own. sometimes she likes help, is all, and i’m happy to give it.
she doesn’t want help getting dressed. the men come for me, blindfold masters i have almost befriended. the path we take away from her is always different, carefully manufactured so i don’t know exactly where she’s located. after all, a lady might get ideas about things.
they let me go in the queen’s room. i report findings, ask for fruit in the next week’s supplies, am told not to spoil the princess, that she must be kind and waifish and wanting when the prince comes. i spend an hour suggesting that fruit might turn the blood sweeter and am allowed six oranges.
in the next week, she marvels over them. turns them in her calloused hands. smells them. holds them until she can’t control her curiosity, devours them. i bring her books about rivers. i bring her books about deserts.
“when is our birthday?” she asks me tonight. i’m knitting her a scarf for it.
“soon,” i tell her, “i’ll come by.”
she rolls onto one side, looks up at me in the dimming light. “I’m glad they chose you to be mine,” she says, and i drop a stitch. my heart sings against the inside of my wrists. i blow out a candle so she can’t see the blush and i can’t see her lips. i know what she means, i say. i know what she means.
it’s twenty-three for both of us. i bring her a cake we both eat, her on her throne and me on the floor. i am in the middle of laughing when she falls silent in the still night. “nobody else ever comes for me,” she whispers. i say nothing.
we have more cake, we go to sleep. i don’t know if she knows i’m awake, but i hear her crying.
the men come, the men take me. the one that smells like cedar always laughs at my jokes. the queen half-hates me because i remind her of “that nasty thing” they forced on their daughter.
“the left wheel needs oil,” i mention, “she’s having trouble turning again.”
the queen’s nose goes up. she never reacts when i mention her daughter’s wheelchair by name - doesn’t find it funny we call it a throne, thinks it’s well enough to leave alone.
“well, she’ll have a prince in this next month coming for her,” says the queen, “i’ve arranged it all,” says the queen, “he’s … had the situation explained to him first this time. i thought it would be best,” says the queen. “we’re paying him…. quite a lot for his effort,” says the queen.
situation. she means that her daughter can’t walk very far. she means the situation of towers. i excuse myself. i find my girl books about turning down marriage. i’m not sure why. it’s all she’s ever wanted.
they blindfold me and take me. cedar laughs at my jokes. the sawdust one is here this time, even he chuckles at a few. we ride horses through places i’ll never see clearly.
“so according to the queen this is the last time i’m needed, huh?” i ask them as they walk me blindly up too many stairs for my girl to make it down, “i’m sorry i never made your acquaintance.”
cedar laughs. he takes off my blindfold and for a second, lets me see his face. “it’s been an honor,” he says, shaking my hand, “you’ve been a perfect lady.”
i spend the day with my princess pretending i am not peeling apart from my bones. i just want her to be happy. to get to come home.
it’s late. “do you think in a past life i was a mermaid?” she asks.
“almost definitely,” i tell her.
it’s quiet for a while after. “what if,” she whispers, “i don’t want to leave?”
i sit up and look at her from across the room.
“it’s just,” she says, “i have you here and all the books i need and nobody makes me walk too long and i don’t feel like… like i’m wrong here.”
i want to tell her she’s never been wrong. that she’s always fit into my heart like a puzzle piece. that, more importantly, the leadership i see in her glows like a fire - that, no matter her body, she’s always been kind and gentle and smart and sweet. a princess that could bring a nation to her feet and do so lovingly.
“it will be okay,” i say, “there’s more fruit to discover.”
she doesn’t say anything. i think i’ve ruined something by accident, but i don’t know what. i don’t really sleep. i don’t say anything when the men come take me.
the world outside without her is boring. no mermaids. i put my hand in a river once a day, just thinking about her.
two weeks later i am awoken by my name, and a voice i recognize perfectly. cedar stands above me in the darkness. “i know two things in this world,” he says to me, “and one of them is about love.”
this time we make the trip without blindfolds. i see the squalor they keep her in. i see the waste surrounding her castle, the terrible place she’s in. rage fuels my footsteps even when they start flagging.
the prince is already there. he has dropped her twice, cedar tells me. i am already running up the stairs even though i can barely breathe. i hear her crying through the door and i don’t need to get ready - the fire that starts in me burns so brightly.
i roar inside. turn dragon and beat back prince with girl made rage. the bruises on her body turn me into giant snake. i eat the man alive, or at least i chase him from the place, never to be seen again. later i will hear a rumor about a demon that stole the princess from him.
she cries into my arms. i take her down every single stair. i hear her murmur her thanks into my hair and then i kiss her, because i can’t handle it, because i have places to show her and she has my heart to lead.
my house isn’t much but it’s near a river. she likes putting her hands into it. i take her places when she is able, and otherwise i bring the places back. we read books together. cedar no longer works for the queen, but he’d rather live with the man of sawdust making tiny wooden figurines.
i lie in bed next to her, stroking her soft hair. “do you think i was a centaur in a past life?” she asks.
“definitely,” i tell her, and kiss her, gently. she holds my face and pulls herself closer to me.
“will i be a good queen? i mean, in this life?”
“i’m certain of it,” i reply. i can hear the truth ring in it. the bone-deep certainty.
she’s quiet for a moment. “you saved me,” she whispers, “and usually we’d end up married. but…”
i don’t know how to answer that. i feel ice down my spine suddenly.
“i’m not demanding, is all,” her voice shakes, “i’m asking this time. for you to choose me. for me to be yours, i mean. and for you to be mine. permanently.”
the next birthday we celebrate, we are both queens.
Ally is not a word you can take, it is not something you stab your flag into and declare you have earned because you found it. Ally is a word given. A word that is not trustworthy if it only comes from your own mouth.
Ally is a passport; you may travel in these spaces but you must follow the law of the land. The word has no meaning if it has not been approved by the proper authorities. And the authorities are us.
We are citizens of this land and we continue to live here when you have gone home. You can read every travel guide, and know every intersection in our roads, but if you are not a citizen you are a visitor.
Ally is not a ticket, a pass to sit down and enjoy the show. Activism is not a spectator sport, you are either playing or you are on the opposing team. If you want to enjoy the game you are going to have to shoulder some tackles for the players. Because we have bruises all over our bodies and you are wearing a suit of armor.
Ally comes with a class. We are the teachers and you are the student. You will listen and will only participate when you are called upon. If you want to be an ally you have to first realize that your voice is not the most important one in the room. You are there to listen, and we will know if you didn’t do the reading.
Ally is not a part of a gift bag you get for coming to the party. If you want the word you must come to the funerals as well as the parades.
The word comes with work. It comes with struggle, inconvenience, and time. Ally is something you do. Not someone you are. It is a job, not a title.
So thank you for your application. We will review it and get back to you in a couple of weeks.
d i s c l a i m e r || this is just my opinion based on the general idea of their character I have formed through out the years. Of course you could have a totally different opinion than mine (since we’re all different people, we also perceive things differently) and of course I have no way of knowing if I even came close to the reality so take it as it is: an opinion of a fellow ARMY. Thank you :)
w a r n i n g || the contents of this post are only for a mature audience to see - that’s why it’s under the cut - and it’s heavily N S F W because it doesn’t contain only words but also gif depictions of love making.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the sound of glass shattering and my mom drunkenly stumbling into my room face dripping crimson leaving the floor a vast sea of blood and it’s the nasty names falling from my father mouth and tears falling from my mothers eyes and the bruises littering her body and the blood, so much fucking blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the time my older sisters boyfriend broke up with her and she didn’t leave her room for six days because getting out of bed was just too much, she nearly went to the hospital on day six, I think he took her will to live with him when he left her.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the week my best friend spent at the mental hospital because her girlfriend fucked her ex. They think she was trying to end her life but I think she was trying to fill the hole in her heart with a bottle of prescription pills, I spent the next month watching her break her teeth on cheap liquor bottles and turning her body into a canvas with a twist, you see the paint was red and the canvas was her wrist.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that when the first boy I fell in love with told me he never loved me I chased two bottles of pills with some liquor and spent the night throwing up everything inside me but my love for him, a week later the “nice” lady at the mental hospital asked me why I wanted to die, I told her I didn’t want to die at all I just wanted to feel something other than the pain of him leaving.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that time I got a call from the ICU because my cousin was in a coma, the doctors told me they had to shock his heart to bring him back, when he was finally stable and could have visitors he told me she left him so he tied off his arm and shoved a needle into his veins because somehow that hurt less than the knife she shoved in his back when she left him.
Warnings:THERES SO MUCH SIN THAT EVEN HOLY WATER CANT SAVE ME. AVERT YOUR EYES, SMALL CHILDREN.
The next day after what happened with Jughead, I immediately went to Veronica. She was my best friend, and I trusted her completely with my life, so I also trusted the fact that she would explain to me what the hell I should be doing when it comes to…..things like this.
“Veronica, I just, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about all this kinky stuff, but I know that if there’s somebody I’m comfortable enough with, it’s him, And Jughead, sometimes with the way he is, he, he…” I trailed off, crossing one leg over the other on Veronica’s mattress.
“Turns you on?” Veronica asked, a giggly tone in her voice as she spun around in her vanity chair to look at me.
“Yes.” I admitted, heat spreading across my cheeks quickly.
“Girl, I get what you mean, every time I see Betty in that cheer uniform-” Veronica dramatically draped herself over her chair, fanning herself with her hand. “ my gay ass heart just can’t handle it.” I rolled my eyes before standing up and swatting her in the arm.
“I’m serious, Ronnie! Jughead does.. Things to me! Things I’m not used to feeling! Things I seriously don’t like-” I cut myself off, groaning loudly in sexual frustration, and flopping back down on to Veronica’s bed face up. My arms sprawled out across the duvet and I sighed, turning my head to look at my friend now looking down at me.
“ He’s going to be the death of me, Ronnie. He really is.”
“Cheer up sunshine. Let me show you a few things first.”
I had left Ronnie’s house with a lot of ideas, and I planned to use them this weekend. The knowledge she had given gave me somewhat a surge of confidence, and I was positive that the rain check I had made with Jughead would be worth it.
It was the next weekend when I finally acted upon my ideas.
My mom was going away for the weekend, which meant I would have the house all to myself.The last bell had rang, signaling to the students that they had just been relinquished their freedom and were free to leave the torturous hell that was Riverdale High (ok, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but I’m a drama queen). I saw Jughead standing in front of his locker, rummaging through It while Archie leaned against the locker beside him, hands moving as he told Jughead something. I quickly moved from in between Betty and Veronica, quickly making my way to my boyfriend. I grabbed his shoulder as he stood facing away, pulling him down backwards so my lips brushed against his neck, and whispered.
“My house, tonight. I wanna make good use of that rain-check.”
I let go of Jughead, my hand pushing him slightly and his body sprang back in to his previous position, his mouth open. I was halfway down the hall when he turned around, and I just giggled before winking and blowing him a kiss.
Instead of meeting Jughead at Pop’s, I went straight home, checking to make sure my mom had left for her trip. When I saw the empty driveway, I knew I was in the clear. I ran inside and up to my room, dropping my bag and trying to think of my next move. I figured taking a shower was good, so I took a quick one, making sure to shave even though I had done so a couple nights ago. I got out, towel-drying my hair and brushing my teeth before grabbing my nicest pair of bra and underwear. I wasn’t a huge lingerie person, but my mom had bought me a couple nice sets for my birthday, which I was now extremely thankful for.
I threw on a cami and a pair of (extremely short) shorts afterwards, before brushing my hair out and spraying a little perfume. When I was done, I went back down stairs.I occupied myself by getting a little something to drink, and messing around on my phone. I started to almost worry that Jughead wouldn’t show up, and my head started to get the best of me. What if he didn’t want this? What if I freaked him out and potentially ruined our relationship?
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I padded towards it, unlocking the bolt and swinging it open to see Jughead. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his head raising to look at me. His eyebrows raised as he took in my appearance.
“Is your mom home?” He asked, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
“No, she’s gone for the weekend. Business trip.”
Jughead quickly had me pinned against the door, his hands wrapping around the back of my thighs and lifting me so my lower body was wrapped around his waist. His lips went to mine, kissing me roughly. My hands went around his neck, knocking his hat off when my fingers curled in to this hair. I tugged lightly and Jughead groaned against my lips. I broke apart from him, panting heavily.
“Do you uh, do you want something to eat?” I asked him, mentally face palming myself. Jughead laughed, his head falling in to the crook of my neck.
“Sure, what’s on the menu?” Jughead responded, lifting his head to look at me. I had an idea to fix the mood I just killed, bringing my lip between my teeth.
Jughead looked taken aback for a second before a smug look took over his face.
“Hmm, dessert first. I like that idea.” Jughead leaned back down to kiss me, his lips on mine only for a second before trailing down my jaw and to my neck. Jughead began to litter my neck with dark, purple bruises, his body pressing in to mine. Jughead’s hands traveled down my body, his fingers slipping under my shirt. My breath hitched at the feeling of his warm hands on my cold skin, gripping at my waist firmly.
“M-maybe we should- we should go upstairs.” I panted, my breath heavy. Jughead adjusted his grip on my thighs before complying to my suggestion, stumbling a bit to find the stairs.
“You’re going to break your neck.” I giggled, clinging to his shoulders for dear life.
“Don’t undermine my masculinity.” Jughead pouted, climbing up the staircase with me still in his arms. I laughed at the clumsiness of my boyfriend as he actually managed to make it up the stairs, kicking my door open. Jughead dropped me down on to my bed, my back bouncing against the cool mattress. I sat up, reaching out and gripping Jughead’s jacket and tugging it off of him.
“Eager, are we?” Jughead taunted, helping me pull his jacket off. I rolled my eyes, my hands now going to the sweater underneath his jacket. I pulled it over his head to be met with another shirt.
“What is it with the layers?!” I groaned, my hands now working on getting the short sleeved shirt off.
“Really, Forsythe, I thought when I invited you over, you would get the memo to wear less clothing.”
“Unless you wanted me to be a popsicle stick by the time I made it here, that wasn’t happening.” Jughead retorted, his hands going to my tank top.“ Although, I’m pretty sure I woulda been warm in a matter of moments anyways.” Jughead leaned down, his teeth biting gently at the skin on my neck, making my breath hitch in my throat. Jughead pulled my tank top off my body, his hands running down my sides and to my hips before gripping them tightly and pulling me closer to his body.
Jughead and I had had sex only a couple of times, the first time obviously being an awkward and romantic mess, and the second time almost being caught by Archie and Betty, who happened to live across the street from me.Jughead and I weren’t huge on sex, it wasn’t something we wanted to do 24/7 like a lot of the kids at our school, but the both of us had so much pent up sexual frustration lately that we were seconds away from creating tears in our remaining clothes.
Jughead grabbed the waistband of my shorts, slipping them down my thighs. I kicked them off before pushing Jughead over and down on to my bed. I unbuttoned the top of his skinny jeans, pulling them down his legs quickly before straddling Jughead, grinding down in to his hips. Jughead groaned, raising his hips to meet mine and I held them down with my hands, grinding my hips down harder on to him.
“Fuck.” Jughead moaned, his breath becoming heavier. I felt him get harder underneath me and I grinned, glad I was getting the reaction I wanted. I sat up, grabbing one of my scarves hanging off my bed frame and toying with it in my hands.
“You wanna try something?” I looked down at my boyfriend, his eyes wide and fixed upon the fabric slipping between my fingers.
“Lay it on me.” Jughead smirked and I grinned, taking his wrists in my hands. Jughead looked confused as I tied his hands to my bedpost, looking up at me.
“To be honest, I thought the roles would be reversed when you asked.” He chuckled, relaxing under my body.
“We’ve got the whole weekend, babe.” I reached behind my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall off my shoulders. I flung it aside, my hands now traveling down my boyfriend’s body and running over his hard-on, hidden by the fabric of his boxers. I cupped it lightly before moving away.
“Do you really have to be a tea-ease.” Jughead groaned when my hand dipped under the elastic, wrapping my hand around him firmly. I slowly pumped my hand up and down, Jughead’s breathing becoming rapid. I pulled my hand down, my fingers pulling his boxers off and slipping my underwear off after. I leaned over Jughead’s body, grabbing a condom from the drawer of my nightstand.
I took the end of the foil package between my teeth, ripping it open. I was met with the gross taste of lube and a disgusted look swept across my face quickly.
“Why didn’t you just…. Open it with your hands??” Jughead tilted his head, stifling a laugh at my reaction to the flavorless substance.
“Veronica said it’d be sexier.” I scoffed, pulling the condom out of the package.“ Last time I take her advice.”
“Wait, you went to Veronica for advice on sex?” Jughead sat up a bit. I pushed him back down with my hand, looking shocked at my surprise burst of dominance.
“Jughead, I’m literally about to sit on your dick. Please don’t ruin the mood.” I pinched the tip of the condom, rolling it down Jughead’s penis. Jughead laid back down, eyes wide and looking at me.
My knees went to either side of Jughead hips, my hand guiding him as I slowly sank down on to him. My hands went to my chest, my lower body feeling a bit tight and uncomfortable. When my thighs reached Jughead’s hips, I stopped, giving myself a moment to adjust before slowly beginning to rise up and sink back down on to him.
I tried to keep a steady pace, my legs burning as I grinded down on to Jughead’s dick.
Jughead’s uneven breathing turned in to small groans and my hands went down his chest, my fingernails leaving scratch marks down his stomach.
I began to go faster, already feeling worn out. Jughead’s hair was already starting to stick to his forehead, and my chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. I painted, picking up the pace even more and going as fast as I could.
“Baby, baby untie me.” Jughead panted, wriggling his arms that were suspended over his head. I paused, leaning over and untying the knot of my scarf. When Jughead was free he immediately sat up, his arms wrapping around my body as he thrusted in to me. My head fell in to the crook of his shoulder, my nails dragging down the muscles in his back.
“F-fuck, Forsythe, I-I’m-” my body tensed, the fuzzy feeling in my lower body and the twitching of my abdomen telling me I was close. Jughead flipped us over so I was on my back, his arms holding him up as he pounded in to me at a rapid pace.
My orgasm hit me like an oncoming train, my nails now digging deep in to Jughead’s skin and my back arching. My vision was blurry, colors and stars clouding my sight.
Jughead came a few moments later, collapsing on top of my body. My arms went around his neck, my hands playing with the ends of his hair as I tried to calm my breathing.
Jughead eventually pulled out of me, his body leaving mine for a moment to discard the used condom before grabbing his sweater. He climbed back on to the bed, his hands pulling my body up in to a sitting position before pulling the sweater over my head.
“You know, I can dress myself. I’m not five.” I teased, pulling my arms through the sleeves of the long sweater. The end of the fabric went to my knees, reminding me of how tiny I was compared to my beanstalk of a boyfriend.
“I know.” Jughead was standing up, his boxers now on and his shirt slipping over his head. I raised my arms up, making grabby hands at him.
“Well if you’re going to treat me like I’m 5, then I demanded to be carried to the kitchen.” I pouted. Jughead turned to me, a grin on his face.
“As you wish.” Jughead’s arms went under my body, listing up like I was a feather. I squealed, clinging to him as he kicked my door open.
“So, why the kitchen?” Jughead asked, now carrying me back down the stairs he had carried me up about an hour ago.
“Well, I made dinner, and then after we ate, I thought we could test how sturdy the island in my kitchen is.” I bit my lip, looking at Jughead.
“I’m honestly convinced that I died and I have gone to heaven.” Jughead shook the fringe out of his face, dipping his head down and pressing his lips to mine.
Pairing: Jungkook x
Genre: fluff, smut, slight angst, Hybrid!AU
Warnings: blood, violence (only really at the beginning), some swears,
badass MC, SMUT that would probably be considered graphic?? idk
Requested by japanesewonderflan: I HAVE A
REQUEST!!!!!! 🙌🙌🙌 Can you do a hybrid au! For either
Jungkook or Jimin and you just found or bought them and they teach you about
the life of a hybrid and what it’s like and then you start to understand but
one-day you come home to them in heat????? 😄😄 If you don’t want to do the smut
part, that’s fine too, I’m down for just fluff if you’re only comfortable with
that. From your love 💙💜💚
anonymous asked: Can you do a fic like the clock tower one where reader falls off a building or something a peter is trapped and he just watches her fall, he thinks shes dead, gets beat up by the villian of choice since hes depressed and shit,,, but little does he know Tony Stark saved her? (and please, can reader not be an avenger or starks daughter, just a regular teenage girl who knows and has a relationship with stark based through peter??) sorry if that made no sense?
author’s note: this probably isn’t what you wanted but i tried my best so thank you for requesting lovely! Xx
The fight between Peter and the vulture had been going on for quite some time now and neither one of them was close to winning or losing. It had first started in an alleyway which had soon let out too a rooftop on top of one of the tallest building in Queens.
The vulture had tried to shoot at Peter with one of the guns he had but Peter had managed too dodge every single one off the shots being aimed at him, and he carelessly shot his web out from his arm ripping the weapon away from the winged man so it flew off the rooftop and landed on the sidewalk below it shattering it into multiple pieces.
This seemed to have infuriated the man as he now came flying towards Peter at an unearthly speed. Peter only managing last minute to jump over him and land on the building completely unharmed.
But the door that lead onto the rooftop suddenly flung open distracting Peter so much that in the few seconds he had turned to look at it the vulture had managed to grab him by his neck and slam him down onto the ground below them.
He then started throwing Peter around like a rag doll until he was soon almost too weak to stand on his own two feet. He had blood dripping down from his lower lip and his face was covered in bruises and scars.
The both off them had been to distracted to notice you when you had walked onto the rooftop and you had been standing there for a solid five minutes watching your boyfriend get beat up and you had no idea what the hell you were going to do.
But when you saw the vulture come towards Peter’s bruised body again you panicked and not knowing what else to do you did the first thing that came into your mind. So you cried out a desperate “stop!” gaining both of the mens attention.
Peter had let out a strangled no as he prayed to god the man wouldn’t try to use you against him but as he now came towards you Peter tried his best to pull himself back up only to have his arms and legs completely give out on him.
“This oughta teach you not to mess with my business again” The vulture smiled down at Peter before swiftly picking you up and without hesitation throwing you over the edge of the building sending you plummeting down and towards your death.
Peter had screamed out a strangled sob at the action, blood spilling out off his mouth as he tried to drag himself towards the edge only to have the vulture fly towards him again lifting him up off the ground before slamming him back onto the hard concrete as hard as he possibly could.
Peter groaned rolling over to his side but before he could do anything else he was slammed into the ground once again, this time harder and more painful than the last time.
Again he tried to stand up, but didn’t even manage to lift his arm up before he was roughly thrown at the metal door that had lead you out and onto the rooftop.
The flying man then grabbed Peter by his collar and repeatedly punched him in the face not giving him any chance to grieve or save his loved one. Peter didn’t try to fight him back or stop him since he had nothing too fight for anymore.
And as the vulture had finally decided that Peter had, had enough he left him on the rooftop and flew away with one last threat before disappearing into the dead of night as if nothing had happened.
Peter’s vision was becoming more and more blurrier and the pain he felt was increasing by the second.
But he had to get to the edge off the building, he had too know if your lifeless body laid there but before he could reach it a shooting pain in his side sent him into a world off pain and his body not being able too handle it he passed out.
The moment your legs had left the ground and your body had been lifted up and thrown over the rooftop a gasp had left your mouth as you felt yourself fall getting dangerously close to the ground with every second that passed.
Your eyes slammed shut preparing for the impact your body would soon feel, but before you could reach the ground two metal arms managed to wrap themselves around you and you were flown up into the air.
You looked up at your savior and saw none other than the Iron Man holding you in his arms. You let out a sigh of relive as you curled up into his chest letting a few tears escape your eyes.
“Thank you” You said looking up at the man in the Iron suit. He looked down at you and gave you a small nod before looking back up continuing his way to your home.
He had dropped you off on your fire escape before flying away probably to go and help Peter which now you realized probably thought you were dead. You felt your stomach churn at the thought and prayed Tony would make it in time to save him.
The next day had been a complete blur for you. The only thing on your mind being Peter Parker, that hadn’t shown up at school and was impossible to reach since his phone was dead.
So you had decided to ditch the rest off the day so you could inform your boyfriend that you were in fact okay—that being if Tony hadn’t already done it.
You walked towards the double doors leading out of the school and pressed yourself against them, harshly pushing them open before making your way onto the school grounds.
You had quickly managed to make your way back to Peter’s house and nervously knocking on the door you rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet and waited for someone to open the door.
But when no one did you let yourself in quietly twisting the doorknob, you peeked your head inside and there was no one there. You huffed opening the door completely and shut it behind you.
You removed your backpack from your shoulders and laid it down onto floor along with your shoes and made your way up to Peter’s room.
You were nervous to say the least but as you now stood in front of Peter’s door you slowly opened it only to be met with complete darkness.
You could make out Peter’s figure sitting on his bed, his back facing you as he rested his head in his hands. “Aunt May I told you I wanted to be left alone” Peter said his voice just below a whisper.
“It’s not May” you said, slowly making your way towards him. His head snapped up at the sound of your angelic voice and his brown eyes met yours. “Y/N?” he asked his voice cracking as he turned around to face you.
“H-how I- i thought you were dead” Peter sobbed his quivering lips forming a thin line. He had thought that he had finally lost his mind when he saw you standing in his room after what he had witnessed last night.
“No Pete Tony he- uh saved me” You said and with that Peter ran up to you in record time and wrapped his arms around you letting himself sob into your neck.
“Hey, it’s okay I’m here, I’m right here Peter” You said blinking back your own tears as you let the poor boy cry his heart out in front of you.
His sobs had eventually died down and he cupped your cheeks with his hands before connecting your lips with his. His lips were salty from the tears that had previously been pouring down them and he kissed you like his life depended on it.
“I thought I lost you” He mumbled when you had finally pulled away his brown eyes staring down into your Y/E/C ones. “You’re never going too lose me Pete. I’ll always be right here” You smiled resting your head on his chest.
He let his lips linger on the top of your head before you both made your way to his bed were you fell asleep in each others arms promising to never leave each other, ever.
The Dyatlov Pass Incident occurred in the Ural mountains of Russia nearly 60 years ago. 9 experienced hikers were found frozen in the snow with unusual injuries and even more unusual circumstances surrounding their deaths.
A hiking group from the Ural PolyTechnical institute, lead by Igor Dyatlov, were hiking to Ortem, a category three hiking trip(the most difficult) The trip was no worry to the hikers(originally 8 men and 2 women) as they were all experienced hikers and skiers.
Before they set out on what would be the last leg of their journey one of the men, Yuri Yudin, did not feel well and had to leave early. This illness would save his life.
The group of 9 set up camp on the base of the mountain called Kholat Syakhl, also known as “Dead Mountain) in Mansi. It is unknown why they camped on the slope and not down near the forest where they would have more shelter from the elements. By the next morning all the hikers would be dead. Some of the bodies wuld not be found for 3 months.
Here is where their deaths become a mystery. It was determined they froze to death(6) or died of fatal injuries(3) however their bodoes were scattered up to 3000 meters from their tent, which had been cut open from the inside.
Yuri Krivonischenko and Yuri Doreschenko were found 2000 meters down the hill huddled together with a dead fire. Branches on the tree they were under were broken up to 5 meters high suggesting one of them climbed up the tree. They were both shoe less and only in their underwear. Between the cedar tree and the camp the bodies of Igor Dyatlov, Zinaida Kolomogorova, and Rustem Slobodin were found in positions suggesting they tried to return to the camp. All of these bodies were found February 26, 1959.
It wasn’t until May 6 that year that the last four hikers would be found dead under 4 meters of snow in a ravine 2075 meters away from the tent. Lyudmilla Dubinina had been found face down in the ravine missing her tongue, lips, and eyes. She had also sustained a major chest fracture along with Zolotaryov, though neither had bruising on their bodies or soft tissue to suggest anything causing the fracture.
Thibeaux-Brignolles had also sustained a major skull fracture.
The injuries Thibeaux-Brignolles, Zolotaryov, and Dubinina sustained that lead to their deaths were made with a force as strong as a car crash said Dr. Boris Vozrozhdenny when asked.
Those who had died first had relinquished their clothing to the other as
Zolotaryov was wearing Dubinina’s faux fur coat.
The nine hikers were the only people on the mountain that night, they had all died within 6-8 hours of their last meal, and they all left the tent by their own accord. Some hikers camping on a mountain a few kilometers away reported seeing strange orange orbs in the sky that night and the last picture on Krioneschenko’s camera showed some blurry orbs. It was also reported that at the funerals for the hikers their bodies held a deep tan, an almost orange one. Ultimately their death was ruled to be caused by an unknown force and may remain a mystery forever.