Pick a line from your favorite book/movie/poem/show/song. This line is now the first line of your story.
Line chosen from: Rifftrax Twilight commentary
“Is she supposed to look... sexy? Or like she’s wearing a rabbit’s dentures?” Peter couldn’t help it when he barked out a laugh at his barman’s quietly posed question, eyes following where the younger man was looking to spot a woman on the other side of the bar. The woman was decked out to the nines, sparkly red dress, perfectly painted lips, but Peter could see where Davis was coming from with the question, the way her lips parted slightly, showing off her teeth in an extremely unflattering way as she put on what Peter could only imagine was her best coy expression. Perhaps Peter wasn’t the best judge of these things, being less than interested in women as it was, but he couldn’t help but think that it was less attracting men and more warding them off.
The fact that the woman was sitting alone at the end of the bar was indication enough of that.
“Send her a drink, on the house.” Peter replied quietly, a pang of sympathy for another lonely soul overriding his desire to sit and shit talk patrons with his favorite employee. Davis didn’t offer much in the way of reply besides a slightly lifted eyebrow and a shrug before wandering off to mix rabbit lady up something tasty. Perhaps it was his bleeding heart, that thing that daddy had always tried to help him harden, that had caused that sudden feeling to wash over him watching the woman. Perhaps he simply understood what it felt like to sit alone at the end of a bar and drink alone, waiting for someone to sit and offer to share one with him. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, any more than Peter was an unattractive man, but in that moment, they shared that deep seeded feeling of melancholy that came with another night of drinking alone.
He didn’t have long to sit and stew in the bitter feeling, however, as the door opened behind him with a loud bang, and his eyebrow lifted slightly as he twisted to see what the commotion was. People tended to know better than to drag their dramatics into his bar. They knew to keep it outside, in the back alley. Recognition hit him, however, and he met eyes with the two men dragging a third, stumbling and struggling one between them. His eyes cut immediately to the door to the left, the hallway leading back to his office, before turning his attention back to Davis, to the patrons, who all seemed to be confused and annoyed by the interruption of their calm night of drinking. Clearing his throat, Peter stood from his usual stool. “Well.” Clapping his hands together, he watched as eyes drew to him, likely expecting some kind of explanation. Instead, he simply said, “Davis, a round for everyone on the house.” as cheerfully as possible before leaving the bar and disappearing behind the door after the men.
He could hear the sounds of whispered argument before he even opened his office door, though the voices fell away when he walked in and moved around the desk, sitting in his chair without sparing a glance to the man who had been forced into a chair opposite his and was being held firmly by the shoulders by the two goons. The man’s hair was tangled and matted, something brown with a tinge of red. He’d been roughed up pretty badly to get him here. Peter let the uncomfortable silence fill the room for a while before finally speaking, leaning forward on his elbows on the desk. “Mr. Lodgston. You’ve killed four of my best men.” The other man defiantly refused to look up at him, but Peter didn’t let it bother him. Simply tilted his head a bit. “Name one good reason I shouldn’t order my men to kill you right here and now.”
A snort left the man, one that had Peter’s eyebrow lifting slightly, watching as the kid finally lifted his chin, looking him dead in the eye. “Maybe because only bitches let people do their dirty work for them. Kill me yourself, Lopez, or don’t waste my time.”
Insolent little shit. Peter’s lips pulled back, showing off his teeth, but it couldn’t be called a smile by any stretch of the imagination. “Funny, you’re the one at a disadvantage here, and you’re still throwing out pithy one-liners. That why they keep you around over there? Your pithy little one-liners?”
Peter had been trained to keep his cool, to never let things break that cool and calculated facade. He was usually extremely talented at doing so, but this fucking kid... Peter watched it happen like it was slow-motion. The kid reared back enough and then spit in his face, and Peter, well Peter came flying over the desk without second thought, fist connecting with the kids face, hard. He felt a satisfying crack under his knuckle, and he paid no mind to his goons as he threw another punch. It landed like the first, but as his fist connected with skin, he felt a sharp pain flare to life in his side, causing everything to stop for a moment. Another one, right beside that first, flaring to life, this time feeling a little deeper, and it was then that Peter realized that Tate had stabbed him. His idiot goons hadn’t gotten all of the kids weapons off him, or he was smart enough to finger one off one of the idiots. Either way, Peter fell off the kid as his hand reached up to clutch at his side, letting out a hard hiss through his teeth. He had no doubt, based on the crazed look in Tate’s eyes, that he would have gone for another few jabs, would have tried to land a killing one, had the goons not grabbed him and dragged him back out of the room. He hoped they left his god damned body rotting in the dumpster out back.
His vision started to go spotty and by the time his office door burst open and Davis was kneeling beside him, his breathing felt labored. Davis was saying something, but Peter wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to him, only thinking about how he definitely couldn’t go to the hospital. He cut Davis off mid-rant, holding his hand up despite the screaming pain it caused his side, hissing out softly. “Doctor. Get me a god-damned doctor and make it a fucking discreet one.”
describe your character’s aesthetic in five words or less
- disaster, fighter, intelligent, soft
what flower would you connect to your character? why?
- blue iris, symbolizing faith hope and courage, peter wants to believe in a better place, a world where people are safe and happy. he would do anything to maintain peace and keep people safe, hence the courage.
pick a crystal that you feel fits your muse best and explain the connection
- tiger's eye: courage. though peter has a lot of courage, the crystal is helpful in restoring self-expression which at the point he was last in, he could really use.
out of water, fire, earth, and air, which element do you think represents your character best?
- air, represents liberty and movement.
what color do you most strongly associate with your muse?
- orange: energy, happiness, vitality
is there an animal you feel fits your muse’s personality best?
- imagine if i didn't say spider here.
are there any choices your character makes solely because it fits their aesthetic?
- absolutely, he thinks it's really cool to stick to the aesthetic of spider-man, the red and white especially
pick one quote that you think of when you think of your character and share it with us
- “when you can do the things that i can, but you don't, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you.”
list off the top three kinds of imagery that come to mind when you think of your muse
- webs, new york city line, star wars
describe your muse using only ao3 tags
- here, here, here
pick your top three favorite memes from your character’s pinboard and share them with us
- here, here, here
The pain was getting worse. Making his head spin a bit. The adrenaline had long worn away, leaving only the ache in his head from where it pounded, the sharp, stinging pain every single time he breathed in, the fire in his gut that was trailing up to his lungs and making keeping his eyes open an extremely difficult endeavor. He wanted to sleep, just drift off and sleep off the pain of being stabbed multiple times in the stomach and possibly once in the chest. He honestly wasn’t quite sure where or how bad his injuries were, just that they were making things extremely fuzzy and a little white around the edges of his vision.
He had vaguely heard Davis speaking quietly and frantically on the phone to someone, though the words had been completely lost on Pete as he slipped in and out of a coherent and conscious state. The only thing that he knew was that every time his eyes slid closed for more than a few seconds, Davis was shouting at him, making him wince as a pain flared in his head, and blink his eyes back open to try and focus on the man who looked rather panic-stricken.
At some point, someone had stripped his shirt off, though he didn’t realize it right away. It was only after Davis had shoved the window to his office and the cool night air wandered in, creeping over his bare skin and making him shiver. He was exposed and each breath hurt and honestly, Peter was starting to wonder if he actually had died. He was laying in wait for his judgement from the devil, because no God would let him into heaven.
He thoroughly believed that, too. With everything he’d done, he was destined for Hell. Those were the thoughts swirling in his mind as he lay on the itchy carpet under him, staring at the ceiling of his office and wandering in and out of conscious with the occasional demand from Davis that he wake up. He barely heard the office door open and close, barely realized he was alone for a moment before the door opened again, and this time Davis’ face appeared in his vision for a moment before another was there, and his eyes widened slightly, breath catching and... “Are you an angel? Because you’re radiant.”
2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod- Anything by the Beatles, In Too Deep by Sum 41, and he 100% has a soft spot for Old Town Road.the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to- Peter is the type of person who could probably fall asleep anywhere. It would not be uncommon to find him sleeping in a number of strange places, but the strangest that anyone has definitely found him in was inside the clothes dryer one time when he was playing hide and seek with his sister.the game they’d destroy everyone else at- Peter is great at chess. the emoticon they’d use most often- Kissy face emoji. Tied with the 100 emoji.what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep- Grumpy, petulant, and childish. Peter is The Worst when he’s tired. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.- Pete is a sucker for a good old hot chocolate.how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump- He’s a big ‘cuddle and ignore the problem’ kinda guy, refusing to acknowledge his slumps until they go away.what they wanted to be when they grew up- Peter absolutely wanted to be a race car driver at one point in his youth.their favorite kind of weather- Pete loves the sun, but it can’t be too hot or humid or he’ll be complaining about his hair instead of enjoying the weather.thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)- For your considerationhow/what they like to draw or doodle- Normally just eyes. Doodle eyes, realistic eyes, but if he’s absentmindedly drawing something, it’s an eye.
Character A to Character B: “holy crap this is a terrible idea”
"Holy crap, this is a terrible idea."
Peter felt his eyes roll, fingers tapping idly at his desk as he shot his sister a warning look. The open notebook on his desk had so many scribbled notes that he was sure he would go blind looking over them all. The plan was simple, totally and completely simple and all he had to do was not lose his nerve. All he had to do was not fuck everything up or get so nervous that he threw up on Kolya's shoes or something. It was getting closer to time. Closer to that fateful moment, but for now, all he could do was repeat the plan over and over again in his head.
Because tonight was the damn night that he finally worked up the nerve to ask Kolya on a real damn date. None of this studying and sending coy looks over text books. None of the will they-won't they lingering smiles and casual touches. He didn't want to make a big deal out of the whole thing, but he definitely wanted Kolya to know that this was way more than casual flirting for him. He wanted some cheesy high school romance, completely with seeing Kolya walking around proudly wearing his letterman jacket, cheering him on at football games. He wanted to take drives in his beat up old pick-up truck and go to movies together and support all of Kolya's hopes and dreams for after high school ended. He had heard a few during those library study sessions. He had hung on every word, and found that his own dreams shifted to wrap around them. Maybe it was lame, maybe a little obsessive. Maybe Peter was too young to declare himself in love at 17 years old. He didn't care. Because he needed to know if whatever he felt, if it had any hope to fly. If Kolya felt the same way, or simply saw him as a friend.
"Earth to doorknob." Marisol's knuckles rapped against the top of his head, not at all gently, and he shook his head a bit, eyes narrowing a bit as he returned his attention from his daydreaming back to his sister. She made a face at him before letting out a harsh sigh. "Has it ever occured to you that Kolya might not like the big public display? What if you embarrass him? What if he hates it and runs off? This whole scheme could completely blow any shot you might have."
And he... hadn't thought of that. Not in the slightest. Suddenly, his heart was hammering in his chest too hard. His fingers were drumming a bit harder. God, he had no backup plan, but Marisol might have been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
No. No he couldn't back out, now. "Just help me with my face, please?"
-----
The dance was already in full swing as Peter rolled in, Marisol beside him, though his sister quickly disappeared into the crowd the moment they'd made it through the doors. He scanned the room, eyes landing on a few of his friends off to the side, sipping punch from red cups and laughing about something. A hand lifted to push curly hair from his eyes. He'd let it go wild tonight, remembering an offhanded comment Kolya'd once made about liking it curly, though if he'd had it his way, he would have slicked it back and out of his face. His scan of the room didn't make it too far before eyes landed on Kolya and his entire brain seemed to freeze. The man looked incredible. Stunning. Peter's nerves shot to one hundred, especially when it seemed that the other boy looked up and saw him immediately. He seemed to be in the middle of a chat with Sorin, but he lifted a hand and waved, flashing a smile that had Peter practically melting as he returned it, and the wave. He might have made his way over, but he couldn't. He couldn't yet.
The plan.
The dance was boring. Both running by too quickly and dragging on forever. The key event, crowning the Homecoming King and Queen. That was the part he needed to get to. He was almost positive that he was going to win King. It wasn't necessarily narcissism, just the fact that he was likeable, and he had heard plenty of 'totally voting for you, Pete's over the past few weeks. It felt like years before the class president was taking the stage, tapping on the mic to get everyone's attention and finally, finally pulling an envelope from his pocket. His plan hinged on him winning. He could only cross his fingers and hold his breath as the Queen was announced first. No surprise when Savannah Grace won. She was charming and pretty. Nice. People liked her. But he couldn't even find it in him to be congratulatory as the boy cleared his throat to cut through the cheers. "And now, for our homecoming king..."
Time stood still, and Peter felt himself getting dizzy from holding his breath. He nearly missed it, missed his name being called. But... his name was called and he felt his sister, suddenly materalizing from the crowd to slap his back and shove him toward the stage. He took the stairs with shakey legs, knelt to let Savannah put the crown on his head, offered her a nervous grin.
"And now, our King and Queen, the floor is yours for a dance."
Savannah's hand was taken by a boy who Peter vaguely recalled was called 'Jimmy', but his eyes were only on Kolya now. He jumped from the stage without using the stairs, he cut a path through the students, who seemed to make a path for the man on a mission, and finally. Finally he reached Kolya and god did he look even better up close. From a distance he was breath-taking, but up close. Peter thought he might faint for a moment before he finally remembered why he was here in the first place. He held a hand out, hoping beyond hope that Kolya didn't notice or ignore the shake in it. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" A pause, and he cleared his throat, biting his lip for a moment before adding, in a voice more quiet, meant only for the man in front of him, "There would be no greater honor in the world than sharing this moment with you. Just you."
Today was the day. It was New Years Eve, the day he’d been waiting for for months. Halloween passed, and it would have been a good opportunity, too, but the night had been too loud, too silly, it didn’t feel right. Christmas had been more intimate, had been more quiet and would have been a nice time, too, but his sister had been out of town and he didn’t want to do this without her nearby. Just in case. She was back for the party tonight, and all of their friends would be there, it was the celebration of a new start, a new year and so many new chances to do something fun and exciting.
Planning a wedding was fun an exciting, right? Peter could only imagine. He’d spent the better part of the last two years planning the proposal, surely the actual wedding planning would be fun, too.
If Kolya said yes, that was. If he said no, Peter wasn’t quite sure what he would be doing after that. As sure as Peter was about them, about the relationship they had, there was a chance that Kol wasn’t ready for this, for marriage and for forever and whatever the hell else marriage meant. He would be heartbroken, sure, but he would absolutely understand if Kol wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t push it.
He wasn’t quite sure he would manage to stick around the party if that was the case, though, so having Marisol there was a blessing. She could get him out if things went south.
The ring box felt like it was burning in his pocket, he was so sure that there was a spotlight on the thing all night long as he laughed and drank and went over the speech he had planned in his head for when the clock struck midnight. He made sure that he didn’t let himself get too far gone, and he was extremely careful that Kolya didn’t press too closely to the side of him that hid that box, lest his cover get blown early.
There was no telling if Kol knew what he was planning, no telling if the man was suspicious of his behavior in the slightest, but considering their relationship and how well the man could read him, he wouldn’t be surprised if Kolya had at least some idea of... something.
A phone call from Tate came at the wrong time, too close to midnight, and he was as polite and jovial as he could be while trying to rush his friend off the phone, disappointed that he wouldn’t make it in time for the big moment, but not pressing too much. Because the moment he hung up the phone, the countdown had started and he only had 7... 6... 5...
His nerves set on fire. Every word he had rehearsed in his head was gone and he had no idea what to say, just knew that he was supposed to get down on one knee now, and he did, squeezing Kolya’s hand to get his attention, vaguely aware that people had caught wind and had pulled out phones to start recording this as his mouth opened and words just started tumbling out. “Kol... I had this whole speech planned. I remember something about like... new year and new beginnings and all that jazz but it doesn’t matter, does it? The words? Because what matters is that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want that to start right now, for the beginning of this year to be the beginning of the rest of forever.” His other hand fumbled in his pocket, finally managing to pull that box out, to open it, and his tongue got all tied up again before he finally managed to get out, “Marry me?”
