#but as a driver with great power you must also accept the great responsibility of not being a danger to others

[snickersnackety]

this is just what america Is Like. no regard for the fact that pedestrians have just as much right to public spaces as drivers. it's built into the city design and traffic laws.

i love crossing the street in front of cars where i can see the driver is visibly annoyed because like. are you mad at me? am i making you mad? are you upset? are you gonna kill me about it? gonna vehicular manslaughter me? gonna split my head open like a watermelon with that big strong manly truck? are you mad at me?

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.

✧ PRELUDE

— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series

— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)

A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.

As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.

Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.

“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”

You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to�� the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.

“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.

If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury. 

It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.

You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.

“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”

You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior. 

Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!

You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.

It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.

The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.

Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.

His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.

Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’. 

You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.

Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.

“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.

“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.

“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.” 

“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”

“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”

“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”

“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.

“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”

“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.

“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”

“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.

“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider. 

“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.

“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.

Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever. 

Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt? 

No way. 

Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat? 

Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something. 

What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee? 

No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off. 

“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.

“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.

“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”

You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.

“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.

“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”

“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”

“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday. 

Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.

“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.

“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal�� file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.

“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”

“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”

“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.

“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.

“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”

Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.

“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.

Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.

“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.

“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.

“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.

“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”

You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.

“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.

Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.

“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).

Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.

“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”

“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.

“Satoru, what do you want?”

“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…

“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.

When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.

So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”

Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.

“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.

“You… want… Nanami?”

“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.

“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.

“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”

“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”

“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.

“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.

“Yeah? When was the last time you had–” 

You hang up.

Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.

“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.

“Please put Geto on the line.”

“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.

“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.

“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.

“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.

“Just great?”

“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.

“It’s Satoru.”

‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.

“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.

“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”

“No, but he was about to.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.

“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”

Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.

“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”

“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.

“Well, probably not the last two…” 

“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”

“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”

“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.

“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”

“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”

You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”

“You don't know that” you murmur.

“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”

“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.

“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”

“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.

“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”

“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.

“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.

“I’m giving you homework.”

“Oh no…”

“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”

“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.

“Vulnerable?” he completes.

“I guess…”

“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” you rub your face.

“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.

“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…

“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”

Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.

“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.

“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”

“All good for our appointment next week?”

“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”

“Whatever works best for you, love.”

“Bye, Suguru.”

“Don’t forget your homework.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.

note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3

© all content belongs to cursingtoji; do not repost!

[vidalinav]

Decided to do this on anon—don’t like aggressive arguing (not yours). I kind of disagree with your rant. I don’t see how Nesta was made to change her personality. I saw no indication of that, even from Rhys. Channeling her powers is not a call to change who she is. I mean, Amren has a shitty personality, but she is tolerated and even respected. Nesta IS difficult and her personality isn’t great, even in ACOTAR. Like, she was, absolutely abusive to her family, to Feyre. Yes, there are reasons for it, but it doesn’t excuse the way she behaved. Now with the ‘intervention’ I genuinely think it was driven by good intentions. Not to change her personality, not to make her nice or placid, but to stop the self-destructive behavior. Was it ideal—that’s a different discussion. But going back to your original point—I just didn’t see how her personality was the driver behind ICs decisions. The only true asshole in the whole of IC was Mor, because her comments were dumb and unhelpful. The rest, I feel like they truly tried to deal with her spiral, and not who she was as a person. Sorry this is long. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to. PS love your headcanons.

You said this very respectfully so I really don’t mind. It’s definitely my interpretation of the reading. But I do feel that I disagree. I definitely think that Nesta has said bad things, and I don’t ever excuse that. But I also think that the only person who can really say that they were genuinely hurt by Nesta is Feyre, and the only person who has actively said that Nesta made up for it in some sense, because she did, is Feyre. 

Rhys’s disdain comes from Feyre. Mor’s disdain as we note in ACOWAR, comes from Cassian. Elain’s problems are iffy, because you can both say that Elain is hurt by Nesta but also hurts Nesta. Relationships are two ways so we definitely chalk it up to that, unless the debate is who hurt the other worse. Which I don’t know that’s a good question. Words hurt a lot, but so does not feeling supported at your worst. So shrugs. 

But I am also not arguing that the IC’s intention is for Nesta to change. I’m more arguing that the structure of the book does not work as a healing arc, because Nesta must change to fit in with this group, because everyone in the group has a problem whether unfounded or not (except for Azriel). That’s what happens. Let me explain. We get more scenes where they are actively using her when she really doesn’t want to, saying she has a choice and then being proven wrong by another character’s words, we have characters saying horrible things knowing that she is going through something terrible, and we have very few instances where empathy or compassion is shown. Rhys goes into her mind, and is compassionate for the moment and then reverts back. We don’t have ANY scene where any of them talk to Nesta, except for when Elain goes to the library and says something along the lines of are you healed yet? There is no time where they have a cry session, except with Cassian when he takes her to a healing mountain that is supposed to be her punishment, for admittedly something that they should all be punished for. Because is it the intention that was wrong or the information she spewed? To Rhys, it was the information, and that’s why he said he wanted to kill her. Very dramatic response that is excused under “mate protectiveness.” There are no times even when they are arguing which would work the same, because narratives are being exchanged and therefore possibly understood. 

Nesta is ashamed of her own actions. She can be ashamed of her own actions that’s accountability, but she cannot be responsible for other people’s opinions of her and she cannot hold the sins of other people. But she does because there is no growth in anyone else except Nesta, because no one interacts with Nesta on a deeper level than solstice, when they need her power, or when she saves Feyre. But because there is none of that interaction, all of the instances after don’t seem genuine. There is no foundation for people to be close at all. So, all of the problems must remain or its a complete deviation from what has been said and done. 

There is no problem with Feyre not putting a picture of Nesta, but there is a problem with it if the only time she does it is when Nesta proves her love, and does something that NO ONE will ever be able to repay, which I’m assuming was the point, because she is no longer held accountable for not hunting when they were young. It’s a problem if in ACOFAS, Feyre did want Nesta to be a part of her family, but then actively shows that she is not a part of the family. Because not only does she not validate what Nesta is going through in the text with a conversation or a note or whatever, after them having some sort of a relatively civil relationship after ACOWAR, she then makes this intervention which is not based on her own idea, which is suppose to be founded on “love,” which is not shown in a reciprocal scene until the END of the book. 

This is not a problem of the characters, it’s not even a rag on the characters. It’s the fact that this is not a healing arc, based on the fact that the narrative is very imbalanced. Where is the empathy? Where is the compassion? Where is the validation that Nesta went through a war? That Nesta saw her father die? That Nesta almost died herself? All of the characters have trauma yes, but this is Nesta’s POV, this is Nesta’s book. This is suppose to be her healing. So where is it? We get it only with Gwyn and Emerie--that empathy, that compassion. But we don’t get it from the people who love her?? 

Again it’s not a question of these characters suck. It’s that the writing is not great. Because we could have eventually had compassion or empathy or validation or open communication throughout this book, even after the first initial anger of an intervention. But we didn’t get that. And because no one changed and because we don’t have any scenes with the others and Nesta, Nesta did have to change or she wouldn’t belong in the group. If they had growth alongside her, if they had an understanding scene, an argument, yadda yadda, where they understood Nesta or learned something about Nesta as she learned something about them, then the narrative would be based on accountability and acceptance. But that is not what happened. 

And unfortunately that’s why it’s not very satisfying and why I don’t consider it a healing arc, because healing is based on growth and acceptance. Who is allowed to accept who if the only person who changes is Nesta, and a lot of the consequences that were placed on her were from other people who did not change nor have any scenes where they saw a different side of her except at the end when she saved Feyre?

*** But thank you for the compliment! I certainly hope you do not feel that I was attacking you. Just structuring my own argument in a way that makes sense. I tend to go on tangents.

[slow-button-off]

Today was the cherry on top of a heartbreaking and disappointing run of races. I spent all week hoping and praying that Ferrari would get the result they needed today to go into the summer break on a high and come back better. Charles proves every weekend what a talented driver he is. Sure last weekend he made a mistake and he admitted to it, but regardless of who you support, you cannot deny the talent Charles has. And the least Ferrari could have done was come out and admit they made a mistake today. Why they won’t is one of the reasons why the team isn’t ready for a championship fight and it’s what makes me the most upset. Not that they made this terrible decision, but that they refuse to take responsibility for it.

It’s days like today that make me put everything into perspective. I must remind myself that this is a sport and that there are bigger things in life. I remind myself that while this is what Charles does for a living, that he luckily gets to go home to a strong and support system surrounded by people who love him. I remind myself that every day he gets to live out his dream of driving for Ferrari in f1. I remind myself of the life he’s made for himself and all the amazing things he’s done and places he’s been. I remind myself of all the life changing experiences he’s gotten to have with his friends and family by his side. I remind myself about his win in Monza, how special that was and how no matter what happens, no one can ever take that away from him. I remind myself of the 3 wins he has this season, and how remarkable each one was. I remind myself of all he’s accomplished at just the age of 24 and the long successful career he has ahead of him. And while I am not as big a fan of Carlos, I remind myself about his 1st win and how grateful I am that he got it because with the way Ferrari are acting, I’m not sure when he would’ve ever gotten it. (Even though Ferrari fucked up that day too :/)

I need this summer break more than anything to regroup but to also remind myself that there’s more to life than f1. Because every weekend I go into it so hopeful and leave feeling so defeated. Maybe this is on me for having such high expectations lol. If Seb’s retirement video taught me anything, it reminded me that life is bigger than f1 and we all have other passions, loves, and responsibilities and I’m going to use this summer break to shift my focus back to those things. I hope the 2nd part of the season brings us more happiness, we deserve it. But for now, I just want to thank all of you guys on this app for being such a fun and great community to be apart of. I hope you all enjoy the summer break and that we get to feel victory again soon. ♥️

hiya!

this is super lovely!

I've honestly started to move on super quickly. I'm barely disappointed anymore I've just accepted it.

I just want to know why and how it happened so that maybe it won't happen again.

I hope you have a lovely time too!

Sports should never have too much impact on your mood and life. It shouldn't bring you down too much for too long. And if it does, then like you say it's important to shift focus and to not give it as much power.

I hope you have a lovely August and if you have any other thoughts feel free to leave them here.

[ilovejevsjeans]

Why there’s far more to Russell than qualifying specialism

The old adage in Formula 1 that the first person you must beat is your teammate may be cliched, yet it rings true. Drivers constantly compare themselves with the man across the garage, knowing the importance of becoming the in-house alpha.

It makes qualifying head-to-head records a valued statistic for many drivers. As pally-pally as Lando Norris was with Carlos Sainz at McLaren, he took some pleasure in pipping the Spaniard on Saturdays across their two seasons together (11-10 in 2019, 8-8 in 2020). Fernando Alonso’s 21-0 whitewash of Stoffel Vandoorne in 2018 meant so much to the two-time F1 world champion that he was still trotting out the statistic 18 months later.

But even Alonso’s qualifying prowess looks workmanlike compared with that of George Russell. In his 46 appearances with Williams , not once has he been outqualified by a teammate. He equalled Alonso’s 21-0 sweep in 2019, when paired with Robert Kubica – a grand prix winner – and leads Nicholas Latifi 25-0 in their season-and-a-bit together. The only F1 teammate to ever outqualify Russell is Valtteri Bottas, who pipped him to pole in their single race together at Mercedes – and we all know who really walked away as the moral winner that weekend…

It has led to the moniker of ‘Mr Saturday’ being attached to Russell by TV types, who then rattle out those statistics like tickets from a slot machine every time he makes it through to Q2. As impressive as his qualifying record is, to reduce his significance to that of a quali-day footnote belies the true power of Britain’s burgeoning F1 star. Last year in Sakhir he offered a glimpse of what he could one day do for Mercedes, jumping in at the last minute and making full use of the tools at his disposal. But to be true world champion material requires a greater contribution: it’s being a leader, rallying those around you, and being a figurehead in the team’s progression in every area.

They are valuable skills which those around Russell at Williams have seen him hone since making his debut in 2019. “He’s just got better and better, and developed almost with every race,” says Dave Robson, Williams’ head of vehicle performance. “Not so much in terms of the driving, that’s always been very strong. But in terms of his understanding of the whole game that we play and everything that we need to get right and we need his help with, it’s just improved endlessly.

“His role within the team is particular, he takes it in his stride in leading that. He’s an excellent asset in all regards.”

The evolution into a leadership role was something Russell was required to embrace quickly. As the depth of the team’s plight became clear in early 2019, there was a contrast in the response of the two drivers: while Kubica – the more experienced, seemingly senior head – subsided into negativity, the junior Russell accepted the state of affairs and got stuck in trying to make a difference.

“2019 was an incredibly difficult baptism of fire,” recalls Robson. “Once he’d got his head around the situation we were in, he was extremely good at being clear about the order of the problems that needed tackling.”

Dealing with a car as devilish as the FW42 helped Russell hone his development skills and feedback, helping the team make big strides in each of the past two seasons and move off the foot of the pecking order in 2021. He even gleaned some helpful slivers of information during his one-race sojourn with Mercedes, feeding back to Williams that it should change its clutch paddle designs after sampling a different steering wheel.

The technical understanding he has forged is “right up there” with the best drivers Robson – once a race engineer to Jenson Button and Felipe Massa – has worked with: “His technical understanding of what the car has to do, how the tyres have to work, and some of the compromises you have to make, is now as good as anyone, I think, in the pitlane.”

It has made Russell not only an important asset to his team, but also to his teammate. Nicholas Latifi joined Williams as a rookie in 2020, and while paired with a younger driver who had just 21 grands prix to his name, he was quickly able to lean on Russell to help his own performances as he got up to speed in F1.

“It’s been hugely beneficial to have a teammate like George,” Latifi says. “Definitely in those opening races at the beginning of the year and throughout the year, [I was] learning from him what I can in the data, seeing what he is asking for from the car, what he thinks the car needs to go quicker, when I was just trying to find my feet and get up to the limit – for sure relying a bit on that information was very helpful.”

Latifi’s confidence may have grown into his second season, but he still finds it a “great help” to have such a strong reference in Russell – even when on the wrong side of the qualifying scoreline. “Part of it just stems from having George as your teammate,” Robson says of their head-to-head record. “He does have an incredible ability to pull something out when it really matters.”

But it is not just Russell’s on-track capabilities that have made him such a powerful and important figure within Williams. The soft skills he has developed off-track, knowing how to best work with the team around him and keep heads up – even through the trickiest of times – has been hugely important to Williams.

“It’s not just his technical input, but also the way he interacts with everyone and his positivity,” says Robson. “Although he can, quite understandably, get frustrated in the heat of the moment, his positivity and general way he is so constructive is very good and exactly what we needed over the last couple of years. He’s played a big role.”

At just 23 years old, Russell has a growing voice and authority that few of his peers boast. It has earned him the respect of the entire F1 grid, evidenced by his appointment as the GPDA’s newest director at the start of this year following Romain Grosjean’s exit from the series, wishing to represent “the younger half of the grid”. Internally at Williams, he has also used his eagerness to speak up to good effect, wishing to make himself heard from day one.

There’s something about him: when he talks, people listen,” says Robson. “It’s important, provided he’s talking about the right thing. Perhaps right at the beginning, he didn’t always get [that] right, but it didn’t take him long to suss that out and understand.”

Robson’s comment is another sign of Russell’s willingness and ability to learn from his mistakes, a trait that fits perfectly with the culture built by Mercedes in its evolution to a title-winning F1 juggernaut.

It was something that he has already had to put into action this year, having brazenly pointed the finger at Bottas for their crash at Imola and then proposed a theory that had tinfoil hats quivering across the F1 Twittersphere. On the flight home after the race with Mercedes head honchos Toto Wolff and James Allison, Russell said he was given some “tough love”, but he acted quickly: he apologised, retracted his comments, and vowed to learn from the saga.

It’s exactly the kind of growth Mercedes wants to see, and will undoubtedly be part of its considerations when it decides on Russell’s future for 2022. He is a free agent, as is Valtteri Bottas, the man he would surely replace should Wolff decide the time is right to cash in on his investment.

But where would that leave Williams? Robson does not mince his words, admitting it would be a “huge loss” for the team both on- and off-track.

“It’s been fantastic working with him, right from when we first put him through the evaluation,” Robson says. “It was obvious George had something about him, some genuinely outstanding talent to drive the car. And it’s been probably frustrating at times, but a great journey to be on with him.

“Of course he’d be a massive loss. I think we’ve all put in a lot of time and effort to help him where he needed a bit of help, to guide him, and it would be a real shame to lose that without really seeing the benefits of it in our car.”

CEO Jost Capito says he would “of course” hand Russell the multi-year deal he craves from 2022, should it be viable. “I think he would fit very well to Williams for our future as well,” Capito says. “If he believes in our future, there might be a chance to keep him.”

It is a future that Russell has helped forge for Williams. Steps such as the sale of the team and investment from Dorilton Capital has secured the team’s immediate future, but Russell’s role must be recognised.

Robson agrees, saying he “can take a good amount of credit” for the team’s progress since hitting rock bottom at the start of 2019.

Williams may have a strong history for backing and cultivating young talent, giving the likes of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Nico Hulkenberg, and Valtteri Bottas their starts. But to be the force that helps lift the team out of its hardest moments, acting as the catalyst in its revival, arguably makes Russell the most important of the bunch – even if he doesn’t stick around to enjoy the fruits of his labour. (X)

[noname-friend]

"I have a proposal" NCT Mafia Au

~Just a random idea I had~

Several cars waited in front of the gate, a gate that said "Ncity" on top of it. Anyone would recognize this as the home of the notorious mafia family, NCT. One of the biggest families out there, they were really well known all around Korea and feared. So who dares to request an audience with this family?

"What are you wearing to the banquet?" A guard standing next to the driver side asked, peering into the car in the backseat.

"Black on black, perhaps with some chains." A man, well dressed in a dark grey suit replied, he adjusted his watch as he kept his eyes forward at the mansion in front of them.

The guard stepped away and nodded to the others, the gates opened and the cars pulled up, parking in front of the mansion. Out came 7 men, all dressed in suits like the first man. They looked experienced, and rich. Whoever they were, they meant business. They walked up to the door, the youngest of this group knocked on the door.

Another man answered the door, he wore a button up red shirt, black dress pants, hair slicked back and sported an expensive watch as well. He eyed this group up and down.

"Kun. What pleasure do we have to see you all here today?" The man smiled at them, it seemed fake and perhaps it was.

"I'm sure Taeyong has informed you all already, Johnny." Kun replied, returning the smile.

"Right, the meeting you requested. Very well, follow me gentlemen."

Johnny led the group into a sort of dinning room, the table was long with many chairs, Kun wasn't sure how many people would be in this meeting but he was prepared for the whole family if needed. He sat at one end of the table, his group sitting beside him.

"I'll tell Taeyong of your arrival, feel free to ask our maids for drinks." Johnny bowed his head to them and left.

One of Kun's boys couldn't stop playing with his rings nervously, he's heard so much of NCT but wasn't sure how they would react to Kun's plan. Another leaned over, putting his hand over the nervous boy's fidgeting ones.

"Jungwoo, calm down. Kun's got this." He smiled to the slightly older male.

Jungwoo whispered back, "I know Lucas, but what if I mess something up?"

"Nonsense, Jungwoo you've trained for this, you'll be great." Kun chimed in crossing his hands on the table.

Eventually the door opened once more, Taeyong walked through followed by about 12 others. They all took their places at the table, Taeyong sitting on the opposite end from Kun.

"Wayv, what an occasion for us to meet like this," Taeyong was the first to speak up, "I do wonder what this meeting is about?"

Kun smiled to the leader in front of him, "I have a proposal for you, Taeyong."

This peaked everyone's interest. They were NCT, they had anything you could think, what could a small family like Wayv possibly have to offer them?

Kun took the silence to continue talking, "I've heard that some of your boys have been in my territory. Apparently, you've been trying to take my business? I wonder what NCT is doing in China?"

Taeyong laughed and leaned on his hand as he watched Kun for a moment, "I see nothing gets past you Kun. It's true. We have been scouting out in China. There's some opportunities out there that I've been highly interested in. Why? Is that a problem for you?" He raised a challenging eyebrow.

Kun laughed as well, "Of course not. I'd be here to announce a war then, but that's no fun is it?"

"What are you suggesting then?" Yuta spoke up, his tone was harsh.

"Yuta, that's not how we speak to guests. But I am curious Kun, let's cut to the chase. What do you want?" Taeyong scolded Yuta as he turned back to Kun.

"I propose a partnership." As the words left his mouth, the NCT members began whispering among themselves.

"Oh? What does this partnership offer us exactly?"

"Well you'll share our established claims in China, as well as our branch in Thailand. Perhaps you can have some of contracts in Germany as well."

"You're a small group, how could you possibly have all these connections?" A member named Doyoung questioned, he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. He simply voiced everyone's suspicions.

Kun smiled once more, "Our group may be small, but we are very diverse. Shall I introduce my members?"

Taeyong nodded, waving his hand in a way to signal him to go on.

"Well let's start with my right hand, Ten. He runs our Thailand operations." Kun spoke, Ten stood up and bowed to them all. "While Thailand is main responsibility, he also handles many of our connections thanks to him knowing 4 languages fluently."

"What languages do you speak?" Johnny raised his hand and asked.

"Korean, English, Thai, Chinese and currently learning Japanese." He replied as he sat down again.

"You speak Japanese? Prove it then." Yuta spoke to him.

"I said I am learning Japanese, I am not fluent in it yet but I hope it is adequate enough for you." Ten replied, without a stutter, definitely impressing Yuta as he nodded to Taeyong.

"Interesting, he would be useful, how else do you have?"

"This is Lucas and Jungwoo, our spies." Jungwoo and Lucas stood up and bowed as well. "They can get us just about any information. Like the passcode to get into Ncity." Kun motioned them to sit down.

"And how'd you manage that?" Taeil spoke up this time.

"With our handsome looks, and sweet talking? Anything is possible." Lucas replied confidently. Jungwoo stayed quiet.

"Jungwoo, that's not a traditional Chinese name is it?" Taeyong asked curiously.

"I'm Korean, sir." He finally spoke up.

"Ah I see, continue Kun."

"We have Xiaojun and Hendrey, our hackers. Yangyang, the one who handles our German affairs."

"Interesting bunch you have here Kun." Taeyong applauded. "I will admit, having these assets would be beneficial to Ncity. But let's not ignore the elephant in the room, what do you want out of this?"

"All we want is part of the Ncity empire. Anyone would be foolish to ignore the influence and power of NCT. Though we are a small group, we are willing to be loyal and benefit this family, if you let us."

"Words can be broken easily, how will you prove your loyalty?" Doyoung asked.

"We offer one of our members to you. You may do as you will with Jungwoo." Kun gestured to him. "If we must, we will all go through your trainings as well."

Taeyong clapped and laughed once more, "I like this spirit of yours Kun! A go-getter, a man who knows what he wants! You'll even offer us one of your few men? You must be serious."

Kun smiled back to him and bowed his head "Of course, Taeyong. I never joke about matters like this."

"Tell you what, Kun. I accept your proposal. As a sign of my sincerity, we will give you one of our family members as well." Taeyong looked among his members. "We have a few Chinese members of our own, I'm sure they were the ones you spotted in your territory. Have your pick. Renjun, part of the Dream unit and our secondary medic, Chenle, also part of the Dream unit and bomb specialist, or Winwin, our sniper and spy." Taeyong motioned for them to stand up, they did and bowed to Kun, greeting him in Chinese.

Ten leaned over to Kun and whispered to him. Kun nodded.

"Taeyong, I respect your sincerity and I believe Winwin will be a great asset to our team." Taeyong stood up and walked around the table to Kun, shaking his hand. "Kun, I look forward to working with you. I'll properly welcome all of you to our wonderful family once you go through our training. My teachers won't go easy on you all, I hope that's ok."

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less." Kun smiled. Winwin and Jungwoo exchanging glances, Jungwoo didn't notice the glares he was getting from Yuta specifically.

Mark the day, NCT's family has grown, an extra 7 members this glorious day!

[underfell-crystal]

~~Dangerous Woman~~

Another oneshot starring an AU pairing of Harp and Copper, this time in the MafiaTale universe! @avtfol came up with the idea, and I've decided to put it into writing.

TW: Massive creep vibes, sexual harassment, shady mafia stuff

Goldie may have been the don of New York City's largest human mafia, but there was somebody else who could rival his power. His most favored member, who went by the nickname of 'the Lady Boss'.

Her mere presence commanded respect, and she radiated cold confidence. Nobody but her don knew her real name. As Goldie's closest confidant, she knew all the inner workings of the mafia. But, for being such a stoic woman, there was one thing that she couldn't hide, and that was the fact that she HATED being around Goldie. Being around him made her nose crinkle in disgust and her eyes narrow in contempt.

But it wasn't like she could tell him outright to fuck off when he got handsy, his hands sliding down her waist with a look full of lust.

He knew where her family lived. In fact, he'd even ordered a group of his men to always keep tabs on them just to keep her from leaving, effectively trapping her. She hated being trapped.

But she also loved her family. She would do anything for them. If that meant putting up with a pervy don, killing people, and dealing with constant, suffocating paranoia every day?

Fine. She'd do it.

------

"We're going to the gala tonight, angelbird. Eight p.m, sharp."

Bee didn't look up from the papers in front of her. "Mhm."

"I picked out a dress for you. You'd look absolutely breathtaking in it."

Ugh. She'd prefer not to show off ninety percent of her body, thank you very much. "I'll think about it."

"Please do, angelbird." The don turned and marched from the room, probably to spend four hours pampering himself and getting ready to meet with the other dons. Bee huffed and brushed a strand of her short, pitch black hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back into place a moment later. So much work to do...

.

.

.

As she thought, the black dress Goldie had picked out for her was far too risqué for her taste. Sure, she didn't mind showing off her body a bit, but she didn't need any more men leering at her tonight. Goldie was more than enough. So, she settled on something far better: a beautiful red, floor-length gown with a slit up the side of it and some gold jewelry with red gemstones to match.

Fixing her hair, she sat at her vanity, carefully applying eyeliner, lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara. She rubbed her lips together and opened her mouth with a popping sound, the blood red a beautiful contrast to her icy blue eyes. Bee looked over her reflection critically before sitting back with a soft, pleased smile. She looked beautiful.

Satisfied with her appearance, she stood up and slipped into her red heels, gliding from her room and to the elevator. Outside the penthouse was a black car with a driver waiting for her. She sat down in the back, taking care to not catch her dress in the car door. As soon as she was situated, the car took off.

Hopefully this night would go without a hitch.

.

.

.

The hall where the gala was being held was already full of people when Bee's black car arrived. The car parked in front of the entrance, and a man outside opened the door for her, inclining his head to her as she stepped out, gracefully standing up. "Welcome to the gala, Madame."

"Thank you." Polite and simple. That's all she needed. She swept from the bottom of the staircase up to the main hall, keeping her eyes straight forward. She could see Goldie at the other end of the hall, talking to the other dons, including several monsters she hadn't seen before. One of them was a skeleton with a strange collar that was glowing green around his neck.

Ugh. Fantastic. More people Goldie got to parade her around to. She kept a pleasant smile on her face as she walked up to them, sliding her arm through Goldie's. She could feel his smirk widen. "Hello my darling."

She hummed in response, tilting her head against his shoulder. If she said anything, she'd probably start cursing him out. Goldie turned his attention back to the others. "This is my beautiful angelbird. The brains behind the operation, if you will."

His hand slid down her lower back. This greasy bastard.... She felt her eye twitch, though her smile remained pleasant. She glanced up and saw the skeleton looking at her oddly. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be shy. Please, God, just let this be over with quickly...

.

.

.

Three hours later, and Bee was done. She had abandoned Goldie as quickly as possible after his little stunt in front of the other dons. She was currently hiding from the other slightly-less-powerful mafia members in an attempt to not socialize. She just wanted to have a few drinks, then go home, wash all her makeup off, and go to sleep. She raised her half empty glass of wine to her lips again, her gaze flicking around the large hall.

She heard footsteps approaching from the side and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Oh. It was the skeleton with the glowing collar. He leaned against the wall next to her, silent for a moment. "You looked quite angry."

Ah. So he noticed. Her voice didn't change. "Sorry? You must be mistaken."

He chuckled, swirling his own wine glass. "Nah. Could see it in yer eyes, doll. You hate that guy... Goldie, was it?"

She didn't say anything, just took another sip of her wine. "If you want something from me, say it and leave."

"Quick to cut to the chase, eh? Sure. I wanna help you."

Bee turned her head to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

The skeleton stared back. "He's the don. Even if you do most of the work, he's still the head honcho. Which means you gotta do what he says."

"Mentioned that fact, did he?"

"Oh yeah. Got some real creep vibes from him, too. Sayin' some nasty things about you."

Bee's grip on the wine glass tightened. Of course he would go behind her back and make disgusting jokes about her body. How very like Goldie. She could feel the glass in her hand starting to crack when the skeleton spoke again. "Like I said. I wanna help. I can help."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've been doing this for a VERY long time. I know what I'm doing."

"You hate it, though. You hate HIM, specifically."

He nodded at the blond still talking and laughing with the other dons. Bee sent Goldie a cold glare over the top of her wine glass. "... Fine. What's your offer?"

"Some of my guys are already working on being accepted as new members of pretty boy's mafia. I want you to try and convince him to let 'em in so they can get to tearing his empire down from the inside. In return, I'll help ya get away from Goldie."

He must've seen the look on her face, because he hastened to speak again. "I know ya've got things keepin' you from leaving. Rest assured, whatever you need, I can help."

Bee looked him in the eye sockets. "How do I know you won't snitch to Goldie as soon as I walk away."

He chuckled. "Aww, don't trust me, doll?"

"Absolutely not."

He barked out a laugh. "Clever lady. Alright. I'll give you my word, I will not say anything to him."

"Your word won't mean anything to me if I'm being beaten into a bloody pulp."

"Can see why yer the brains of the operation... Alright, here."

He took a ring off one of his phalanges and offered it to her. "Keep this until you know I'm not gonna rat ya out."

It was a 'don ring'. A physical representation of his status. She examined it, then slipped it on. As long as nobody looked too closely at her new ring for the rest of the night, she would be fine. "This will do."

"Sure. Hey, I wantcha to meet the guys who are gonna be 'joinin' yer mafia. Tonight. Now, if ya got nothin better to do."

"... Fine. Let's go. I never caught your name, by the way."

"Ya can call me Res, doll. What about you, you got a name?"

"You may call me Vee."

"Vee, huh. Welp, alright. Let's go."

He strode off with purpose, back toward the entrance of the gala. Bee followed him, not caring whether Goldie saw her leave or not. She didn't have a responsibility to be here anymore. She and Res got into a black car rather similar to her own, and the driver briefly glanced at her before taking off.

While they were traveling, Res gave her the rundown of who would be attempting to join Goldie's mafia. Several dog monsters, a flame monster, and another skeleton: Copper, Res' brother. After Res finished with explaining who was trying to get in, it was Bee's turn to explain the 'process' of getting into Goldie's mafia.

It... wasn't a pretty one. Dangerous, too.

Res furrowed his nonexistant brows. "And you're SURE they'll be fine?"

"Of course. Entry is brutal, but everyone going in has lived. And once they're in, there's practically no other security measures. You're part of the 'family' now. You can make your way up through the ranks, but it sure as Hell ain't easy."

"How'd you do it?"

"I've been stuck with Goldie for over a decade. I'm competent at what I do. But as much as I hate to admit it, Goldie favors me, so I get special treatment."

Res nodded slowly. "So... Jus' try and stay on his good side?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Thank you, Vee."

"Yeah. Sure."

Another fifteen minutes, and they had arrived at a large manor. Res got out and opened the door for Bee, and she stepped out, goosebumps crawling up her arms as her bare skin met the cold air. Res motioned for her to follow him, ascending the stairs up to the entrance. He strode inside, waving off his guards to let Bee pass. Inside, he called for his brother as Bee looked around. It was rather nice. Expensive looking, too, but that came with the benefits of being the head of a mafia.

A minute later, someone very tall appeared at the top of the second floor railing, looking down at Bee and Res for a moment before turning and walking down the stairs.

Wow. Okay. He was VERY tall. He easily dwarfed her, standing at.... eight feet, at the bare minimum. He looked down at her, mismatched eye sockets crinkling slightly. "Well ain't you a pretty lil thing."

Great. Another Goldie. She smiled sweetly at him. "This 'pretty lil thing' is your ticket into the biggest human mafia in the city, so keep your comments to yourself."

He blinked at her, then turned and looked at Res with a raised bone-brow. Res cleared his 'throat'. "Copper, this is Vee. Vee, this is Copper. I apologize for his lack of manners."

"Hm. Show me the others."

Res led Bee away from Copper, who watched her leave, an intrigued expression on his face. She had barely spoken to him, but he could already tell.

She was one very dangerous woman.

[randombtsprincessa]

Alchimia || 1

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader | Multiple characters (1st POV)

Words: 5k

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt & Comfort, all the goodness!

Rating: PG! 

Summary: You’re the classic misfit in fantasy. Cue your entrance in the world of Alchimia where magick meets sinisters goals and mystery lurks in every corner. Safe is not something you expect to be at Alchimia Academy. 

Playlist: Gnosiiis - Kimbra

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, mentions of magic related violence, school (yep), minimal swearing.

A/N: Hopefully, this is the final rewrite of Alchimia. Please someone take my keyboard away.

The night air was chill, the scent of damp earth and dewy leaves carried upon a soft icy breeze. The forest is meant to be beautiful, considering how deeply natural it really was. No artifice, no human interference, it was inherently…a being.

So the sharp crack of a footfall on dried leaves, not only made the leaves crumble but also the illusion of blissful isolation.

A head jerked to the right, swathed in a too black cloak. The figure had been standing so still that it was impossible to discern that there had been in fact, someone standing in that particular spot.

“You’re late.”

Perhaps it was the coldness of the voice, or perhaps the woods but the new addition sighed, breath pooling out of their mouth to curl into mist.

“I couldn’t disappear by leaving my engagements. It’s a cause for curiosity, if not suspicion and we cannot afford either.”

They watched, as the first figure turned, the edge of that deep obsidian cloak barely brushing their ankles. “I suppose; it was a relief to be able to do the ritual myself. I didn’t need your assistance at all.” There was something caustic about the tone – almost cruel and it brought an irritated grunt to the companion’s lips.

“Then, pray tell, why did you drag me out to such a vile locale?”

“Shush,” There came a swift admonishment, “The trees can hear everything. You’d do well to remember where we stand. It won’t do to make such powerful enemies.”

“Aside from the ones we’ll make if we are ever found out…what about that? Have you thought at all about that one important scenario?”

There was no response, but it was clear that it wasn’t due to uncertainty, or doubt. It was plain avoidance.

The figure grunted again.

“The school year begins soon. I suppose we must wait for it to end to carry out our plans?”

“If we play our cards right, we might not have to wait at all. The ritual is sure to work and we’ll know soon enough.”

“Provided one arrives at the Academy, of course,”

“Unlike you, I have reputable sources. I know for a fact, there will be someone powerful enough for our needs. All we need to do is simply keep a close watch and then act swiftly.”

There was a pause before a small fire blazed into an open palm, the sudden wash of heat and light causing ruffled animals to take off, disgruntled.

The fire was aimed towards the first figure. “You seem sure. Yet you refuse to share your plans, what am I to do?”

“If you cannot find what we need, then it’s better for you to remain ignorant, my unreliable friend.”

“I didn’t think we were friends.” The figure chuckled, watching the other turn away, walking deeper into the woods. If there was one thing they weren’t ignorant about, was that it was best to not follow.

Instead, the palm of fire was lowered, dissipating into the chill as they both parted ways.

Somewhere far away from the chill, amid warm blankets and smooth velvets, a pair of eyes snapped open with a gasp, forgotten nightmares clinging to the dilated pupils.

The blankets felt too hot on my skin, almost claustrophobic as I desperately fought with the covers to free myself. One foot managed to connect with the cooler floor, followed by the other and I could sit up finally, leaning heavily on my arms to brace against the fact that I was at home, in my bed and my hands…well, my hands were not turning into explosives.

It seemed like an almost too short a period of time – from the pushing, from the snarky remarks, from the loud laughter that followed me in hallways. It seemed too close – the times when unknown hands met my unsuspecting body, thrown around as if I was no more than another ball.

And the final onslaught; it felt as if the incident had just happened yesterday…and not a whole month prior.

A burning heat rushed up my arms, starting at the tips of my fingers, tingling and then forming a scorch that ended around my elbows. I picked them up, unwilling to burn through yet another expensive bedding. The jagged flames engulfed nearly all my arm, and even though the heat was uncomfortable, sometimes even painful – it wasn’t so at the moment.

No, this was…this was a different pain. This was a dull ache that wouldn’t disappear from my chest…long after the flames had subsided.

I was an Alchemist.

I was an Alchemist from a family of renowned Alchemists.

And I was a complete and utter disappointment – and a disaster.

It was one thing to have vestiges of power rush out from an untrained Mage’s being. It was never rare. Of course, it was near unheard of that a Mage caused explosions from said power surges.

Well, as clichéd as it was, I was the exception.

Not because I was too powerful to contain these surges, no, it was because I was too weak to hold in anything. I was a problem, not a potential.

These ���surges’ were uncontrollable, unpredictable as to their scale. And they hurt…they hurt more than just me.

And the incident had been the breaking point; I was dangerous…and I needed to be sent away.

I was being sent away and I couldn’t complain.

It was usual to see my grandparents already sitting at the breakfast table when I came down for breakfast. My grandfather would read the paper, almost always snorting at what he called “mortal absurdities” and my grandmother would smile in her tolerant way and murmur about how we had nothing to be concerned about.

The routine was comforting – both sides reassuring that I did not actually, have to worry myself with human matters.

Of course that was before I blew up my last school.

So it was jarring, coming down to see my parents occupying one side of the breakfast table, no paper in my grandfather’s hands, and an unnatural purse to my grandmother’s lips.

“Y/N,” My mother’s voice cracked out against the soft wooden walls. “Come sit down.”

I gulped.

Y/M/N Y/L/N was one of the foremost Alchemists in the field of transmutation and she held her title with great pride. It was common knowledge at least to me that she was the most disappointed in how her only daughter had turned out.

Not that you could blame her…I suppose.

“Yes mother,” I agreed quietly, taking my chair as unobtrusively as possible, appearing smaller than I was.

Mother sighed, taking a sip of her china tea cup and then fixing me with an unimpressed glare. “I suppose you know what this is about, child. We cannot – cannot – afford to have this kind of attention to us.”

“Yes mother.”

“You’ll find yourself lucky. Humans are painfully oblivious and disbelieving towards anything that is Mage and we did not have to waste time or energy trying to convince the school it was anything but a gas line explosion.”

My ears pricked.

“And they believe that? They all saw me; even the coach. He didn’t say anything?”

Mother narrowed her eyes. “It’s harder to appear normal if you go about saying that you saw a girl make a gymnasium explode when no explosives were found. Like I said, we were lucky. But we cannot have this becoming a trend, Y/N, not when it’s getting harder to…for you – to control yourself.”

I gulped again, but nodded.

She was right. My surges had begun small, light flares of magic overflowing from my fingertips when I flushed from embarrassment, or when my body thudded to the floor with a cruelly aimed shove. The last surge had been a mixture of everything – and had endangered so many people, not all bad.

So when my mother told me about sending me to Alchimia Academy, all I could do was silently nod and accept it. I didn’t have a wet mouth to be able to gulp this time.

My father’s eyes flickered this time, usually laid back but not indolent, he’d been silent in my mother’s decision – but I knew; he felt at his wit’s end. There was nothing he could do to help me as of now but this.

“You’ll be safe there, darling. Our entire family went to Alchimia, and we trained under their supreme guidance. You will not only be able to control and learn to use your powers, you’ll also be able to make friends there – have another chance at pursuing your own life.”

“I know,” I tried to smile. “I think I’d like to go.”

That wasn’t completely true.

Would I like to have more control over my powers? Would I like to feel safe and among people who would have a better chance at protecting themselves than my former classmates? Would I like to make friends? Yes.

Did I have a shot at a proper life if I went to Alchimia? Without a doubt…it was the best school in the country for Mage people.

Did I want to leave the security of the old stone manor, the comfort of my grandparents’ arms?

No, I did not.

But I had no other choice.

It was early in the morning when my father packed me up in the car, the driver quietly pulling away from my grandparents’ estate. My grandmother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, soft murmurs of reassurance echoing in my ear.

It was going to be all okay…I would be in good hands…I was strong enough to handle this…

My grandfather was more realistic. He clamped a hand first on my head and then my shoulder.

“You’re a brave girl, Y/N. If there is anyone who can go through what you did and hold her own at Alchimia, it’s you.”

I smiled ruefully up at the wise aged man. How could he think that of me? Someone who hadn’t even managed to bloom her powers until it was too late and nearly blown Mage cover for the entire world?

It made no sense but I wasn’t going to disappoint them any further.

My mother didn’t say much. One arm came to hug me to her chest, stiff in her affection and silent in her words.

“You be good, Y/N and make us proud.” She said finally, just as the car door shut me away from her.

Alchimia Academy was located deep in the wooded countryside, my father said. With the protection of the massive trees and thick foliage of the forest, it also had magically constructed water sources like rivers and lakes that supplied the school with streams, cutting through the campus for access to the elementals and water nymphs.

The heavily fortified and warded school was the safest place for in-training Mages…but not one of them would be out of control and threatening like I was.

Especially as an Alchemist, I was already on top of the food chain…and the prey would gather to protect themselves.

I was an outcast even before I had stepped foot in the school.

There was near to no conversation between me and my father as the sedan peeled through the asphalt. As the sky turned from a brooding gray to a stunning pallet of morning pinks and oranges, the tar changed to fine dust, small trees giving way to larger heights.

“The wards will begin soon enough.” My father said around late noon, “Mage blood is required to be able to pass the entrance wards. We will be at the school in time for the orientation.” He checked his watch.

I didn’t reply; too enamored by the soaring greenery that hid untold secrets.

Just as my father had said, the ground began to change, turning to a lush lawn with flagstones set in for a driveway. I leaned towards the window, catching my first sight of what was going to be my home for the next three years.

Surrounded by the luxurious greens and browns, Alchimia loomed tall and proud, nothing about it seemingly welcoming. It was part of the Magick; of course, making people who stumble across it feel a dense sense of terror that would never allow them to linger close.

I hoped to god it felt cozier inside as we raced up the curving stones. Spires hung far back, where the older, more gothic structures remained from the original time it had been built in. The outward façade was made of lighter slate rock, gleaming windows facing the woods and a cherry entrance marking the entry and exit. The roundabout swirled around a huge fountain, clearly sourced by the many streams that pooled the campus and it sprung high enough to be visible from farther in the drive.

When the car paused in front of the mighty double doors, they automatically swung open, a lady standing right at the opening as if she was expecting the incoming.

“We’re just in time. Come, Y/N,” My father muttered, opening his door before the driver could even step out. The younger man rushed to open mine, my lips offering him a small smile of thanks as I went to stand next to my father.

We waited till the lady had glided down.

Her hair was rolled into 40s waves, clean and sweeping off her face. Big eyes gave her the impression of being younger than she probably was and the grin she bore wasn’t unfriendly. Her grey suit glittered in the sunlight.

“Welcome,” she began, “to Alchimia Academy of Special Sciences. You must be Y/F/N Y/L/N, of the famed Alchemists.”

“Quite so, thank you,” my father returned her handshake. “This is my daughter, Y/N. We’re enrolling.”

“Ah, another generation of Y/L/Ns,” she smiled. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure and joy to have you with us, Miss Y/L/N.”

“It’s an honor to be here too, Ma’am.” I returned demurely. My mother would be proud that my voice didn’t shake at all.

“Fantastic; you’re just in time. Orientation and Dorm assignments are about to begin. I’ll give you a minute to say your goodbyes and then we’ll head in.”

I found it odd that she never once mentioned her name but she stepped back and my father was turning to me, cutting off the curiosity halfway.

“Right then, dearest,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. While my father had never been cruel, he had also never been very affectionate. It was strange, the endearment but I didn’t think too hard on it.

“I’d say that I am happy, but I will be honest; I am not. At least not considering the circumstances; you would’ve come to Alchimia in your own time, not be sent here like an animal being caged. I hope you know, it pains your mother and me to never see you, and to cut you off like this brings more salt to our wounds than any other.”

I didn’t believe one word he said.

“It needed to be done. I’ll see you, father.” I said, stepping away and moving towards the lady, hoping he wouldn’t call back or try to hug me.

He didn’t.

If the woman heard anything, she didn’t comment, choosing to quietly lead me inside and then, the doors were swinging shut, closing me away from them and putting me with the others.

“This way, Miss Y/L/N, we hold the orientations in the Aurora Gardens, that’s the main grounds.” She led me down a long, high hallway, paneled in dark wood and ancient looking watercolors hanging on them, all depicting what had to be different buildings on Alchimia Campus.

At the very end, another set of double door opened at the wave of her hand, and the immediate onslaught of sunlight on my eyes made me cringe back a little.

It looked like a huge open meadow. Here and there, sprinkled was enormous statues; Grecian, roman, broken horses of terracotta from India, and little pavilions that served as gazebos.

Chatter could be heard, carried over the clean breeze and I took in a deep breath, following the host as she led me across one stile to a pavilion where approximately fifty students were converged.

“This is going to be your batch; I suggest you join them now. I will start the orientation.”

I turned my feet to the back of the group, trying to appear as small and nonthreatening as I could.

Everyone was talking to each other, some just listening but they were all in groups, little clusters of people dotting the marble floor.

I caught sight of a group of girls, and while they looked nothing alike, there was such a form of strong similarity about them, it was almost disturbing. They moved the same, turned their heads and crossed their legs the same, perched demurely on one of the benches.

Faeries…I decided, looking away before they felt my gaze.

Boys rough housed about and some were openly displaying their powers. I caught one boy create a ball of fire in one palm before a girl behind him created a water shower from the air itself, dunking both his head and the fire out.

“Fall in!”

One snapped cry from the lady rendered the crowd silent, everyone craning their head to look at the woman addressing them. She raised her hand, three fingers pointing towards the dripping wet boy and he was dry, the liquid that evaporated off of him, squeezing into a cloudy mist and then dissipating back into the air.

“Now then, if you’re done making a ruckus of the place, shall we begin?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“I bid you all welcome again to not only the most prestigious school for the Magickal sciences, but also the safest place on earth that you can be for the next three years of your life.”

She smiled.

“As you all undoubtedly know, Alchimia has been a safe haven for Mages since the 1200s, before being converted to a boarding school in 1456 due to the Undergrounding. As per the wishes of the founders, no Mage shall ever be turned away or persecuted and can live as they wish within these walls.”

My ears pricked at her words.

“Of course, we have adapted since the Dark Ages. It’s a modern world, and Magick has evolved much. The grounds you sit on and will no doubt make merry upon house untold power. I urge you to remember and respect this.”

She moved farther back.

“I have no suspicions that some of you wonder why I do not reveal my name. That is the way of Alchimia, to safeguard those who safeguard you. You may refer to me as Madam Moon, or simply Supervisor shall do. You will never know the name of your professors, unless they vow to you their identity. Our pseudonyms carry power, as you will learn later in your classes.”

“You shall get the day off tomorrow. This is not for you to laze about the grounds. You will go to the Registration House, in Crescent Building and be divided into classes as per your abilities and the subjects you wish to choose. As per what you are and how you do at the six month assessment, you will be assigned a counselor. I urge you to take them seriously. They decide whether you are fit and safe to be allowed within these halls.”

I felt my stomach drop.

A counselor…? Someone who would require your entire history? What would they do when they discovered what I’d done?

“Elemental classes are mandatory for every Mage. They are; Fire, Water, Air, Earth and the Atmosphere. Magick is divided into two levels. The first is primary and the most basic of things, and depending on how you do in your examinations, we shall determine whether you will be allowed to take the arcane classes. Alchemy classes are mandatory for all Alchemists, just as Shape shifting and Necromancy are to be taken by those of said leanings.” She paused, spying a raised hand. It was the same girl who had been using Water Magick. “Yes,”

“Is it possible to take the special classes for those who don’t have the special powers, ma’am?” She asked.

“By all means, of course, people with no applying powers will only be able to take the theory of said classes, but they are absolutely allowable. No knowledge is jealously guarded at Alchimia.”

She waited to see if anybody else had questions before continuing.

“Archaic languages are compulsory, but can be dropped should you wish to in the later years. Of course, if you are a warlock, you may not drop them as you will need them to study the formations of spells and wards. Aside from these classes, Astronomy, Potions and Wards, Anatomy, the applied sciences such as Numerology, geology, physics and chemistry, history and the fine arts are all compulsory in your first year. You may drop some in your second year.”

There was a groan.

“I thought coming to a magic school lets you off the hook for stupid human subjects.” Someone crowed, amid a muttering of agreements.

“Understand that we are preparing you for the outside world. You may choose to retain jobs within Alchimia but you will not be hidden away from humans forever. It is absolutely necessary to be able to merge well with mortals if you wish to avoid detection.”

The crowd fell silent.

“Now, the headmistress is going to be available to students and parents by direct contact – only if she seeks it. If you have grievances and wish an audience, you must let a staff member know.”

She paused, her eyes roving over the mass of students and then she sighed.

“I wish you a happy journey in the Academy but there are some rules you cannot break. Use of practical Magick outside of your classrooms or warded areas is forbidden. Use of Magick on a student is strictly prohibited.” Her eyes hovered over the boy and girl who had used Elements before.

“If you have familiars, they are not to wander the grounds unless they are Bound. And students are not to wander the school grounds after midnight without express permission.”

She squeezed her fists and then released them, a swarm of butterflies escaping one and a barrage of fireflies the other.

“Ladies, follow the fireflies to the Conjura Halls, the female dorms. Gentlemen, the butterflies shall take you to the Invoques Halls, the male dorms. You will be assigned a roommate and be provided with the map of the entire campus. Your luggage is already in your dorm rooms. Please, remember, class registrations are tomorrow and take the day to familiarize yourself with Alchimia.”

She stood back and the swarm of flies parted, the cluster of fireflies lighting up. Slowly, boys and girls changed ways, the girls following the lighted insects down one route.

Conjura hall was a sprawling building, similar to the neo classical construction I’d seen prior. Gardens spread around the building, stunning roses and lovely scents exuding from the blooms. Similar to the front entrance, there was yet another fountain, this time the centre piece the stone carving of a twisting Goddess.

Two towers extended from the main building, perhaps where the staff and offices resided.

I walked with the girls, to small tables where a stack of school maps lay. Plucking one up, I slipped it into my pocket. I’d have time to look at it later, I was more concerned with whom I’d be living with for three years.

The dorm assignments were put up on bulletin boards, names listed alphabetically. Making sure all the girls were busy discussing the school grounds they’d most like to explore, I placed a finger on the page, running it down till I landed on my last name.

Right along the name was…Cho Miyeon.

I tapped the name, wondering if I’d ever heard of them.

Cho wasn’t an Alchemist family name, so it was unclear if I’d ever caught them around the circuit but I was grateful. Having an Alchemist around could either be a very good thing, or a very bad thing. For one, yes, they could help in learning control but they could also be a stressor.

And I was trying very hard to not let myself freak out…

Hiking up the carryon bag I’d slung over my shoulders, I turned my way out the reception hall, walking down the hallway to where the stairs began.

My room was on the third floor so by the time I reached the room, I was nearly panting. I really needed to start some exercise; I told myself, if climbing all these stairs was going to be the norm for three years, I needed to be in some shape.

I grabbed the door knob, feeling it turn warm in my hold and the door swung open. Doors here seemed to do that a lot.

The inside was simple; Nothing glamorous, but cozy and not shabby.

The walls were powder blue, a large white bay window overlooking the gardens, thankfully. The room was divided neatly into two, but the furniture wasn’t identical.

One side had a deep midnight blue bed, the wooden frame mahogany with a matching night table. The desk and wardrobe were of the same wood, the handles glowing gold. Stars spangled the coverings of the lamps, and partition curtain.

The other was much more understated. The bed, desk and night table was pine, silver and small blue stones fitted into the furnishings. The bedspread and coverings were a mild violet, birds printed on them.

I went and sat on the purple bed, hoping that finders’ keepers were applicable here.

My suitcases were stacked near the door, along with a set of another which I deduced probably belonged to Cho Miyeon. It was as I was dragging the first one to my chosen bed – near the window, that the door opened again and my roommate walked in.

Like me, Cho Miyeon did a sweep of the room, before her eyes landed on me.

“Oh!” She started, jumping a little before her hand came up to her chest. “You scared me! I wasn’t expecting someone to already be here.”

“Yeah, we’re roommates.” I said softly, askance in case she resented having to share her room.

“Yes we are! For three years, we’re going to be like sisters! Hi, I’m Miyeon.” She came forward eagerly, her hand outstretched. She didn’t wait for me, grabbing my hand in a firm grip.

“Hi,” I winced. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she beamed. “I saw your name.”

She let go, backing towards the colorful part of the room before giving me a sly grin. “You left the bright part of the room for the Faerie? How astute,”

“I…I didn’t know you were a Fae.” I blinked, surprised. A Fae put in a room with an Alchemist…? Would that even work out?

“Oh, no worries, it’s not like they post that for the world to see. What are you by the way?” She flopped on the starry bed.

“Alchemist,” I muttered, looking down and focusing on unfolding my clothes.

“Alchemist,” she sat up. “Holy shit, are you Y/N Y/L/N, your parents are those famous alchemists?”

I paused, stiff and unwilling before reluctantly nodding.

“Holy Shit,” she said again, “you’re going to be so fucking famous.”

Exactly what I didn’t want…

“I don’t think so.” I tried to wave her off. “I’m sure there are loads of kids here with rich or famous parents.”

“Well, a few, sure, but you know how it is. I heard the Prince of Fae Court is here this year, and the son of a High Warlock with a couple nymphs from the bottom of the ocean itself but aside from that there wasn’t much of a hoot this year. I’m so glad I got you as a roommate.”

I glanced up in puzzlement.

“You must be like…so powerful.” She whispered in explanation.

I opened my mouth, considering telling her not to get her hopes up when I was literally saved by the bell – in the form of a knock on the door.

Miyeon opened the door.

I politely returned my attention to my suitcase when Miyeon called for me again.

“Y/N, come on, we have an early dinner today. Plus the Headmistress is going to address the new students.”

I nodded, sliding on my shoes to follow her and her friend, whom she introduced as Suhwa.

The dining pavilion was one of the bigger monuments in the campus. Hundreds of students gathered under its pillars, finding tables and small spaces wherever they could to perch and eat.

Food was served as a buffet, meats and vegetables and fruits served in large steaming platters. Vines curled over the towering pillars that held up the ceiling and I could spy people sliding up them – most likely tree nymphs.

Miyeon led me with her to her table, the identical girls I’d seen before the ones occupying the table. It made sense, Fae were rather similar – sometimes in more than just disposition.

She introduced Minnie, Soojin, Soyeon, and Yuqi, four more girls to make their group complete.

Each was Fae and each one was absolutely beautiful. They plucked fruits and vegetables off the platters in an orderly fashion, while I grabbed some of the meat before sitting down with them.

Perhaps it was Fae glamour, but it was oddly reassuring. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Faeries were supposed to be very strong and could definitely hold their own against someone who say – accidentally caused explosions.

“So, a Y/L/N, huh?” Soyeon finally asked.

“Yeah, it’s amazing isn’t it? Who’d have thought I’d get an Alchemist as a roommate.” Miyeon nudged me.

“It’s really not a big deal.” I said immediately.

“There are a few more Alchemists this year. It seems they were trying to get more of you enrolled.” Yuqi popped a grape delicately in her mouth.

“Don’t Alchemists usually attend?” I asked, frowning.

“Some do, of course, they have to come.” Yuqi shrugged and for a split second it seemed as if she was going to say something else, but she merely returned to her grapes.

I stared at her from under my eyelashes.

A tinkling of glass made us all look around, to the stage of staff at the head of the pavilion.

Madam Moon had been the one to attract our attention, the sound of the glass amplified by Magick.

“Good evening, students. If you’ve finished, our headmistress would like to say a few words.” She drew back and then another woman took her place.

Tall, upright with pure ebony for hair, she surveyed the pavilion with cool eyes, hands behind her back.

“I wish you a good evening, children.” She said, loudly, no Magick necessary for her to be audible. “I trust Madam Supervisor has made you all aware of what is going to be required of you in our esteemed establishment. I am not here to reiterate. Instead, I wish to tell you what you require from this school.”

She took a breath.

“Mage people were once the most celebrated in the universe. We were worshipped, as gods, as goddesses as philosophers and prophets. In time, mortals have overtaken our natural world and corrupted it with iron and greed and lust for power. The Undergrounding is not just a movement, but also a rebellion. In the face of the humans’ persecution, we have risen and thrived. We have adapted ourselves to fit them. Now, please ask yourself. Do you plan to hide forever? If yes, then Alchimia isn’t the place for you.”

I shivered.

“We are not here to teach you to hide yourselves, to curb your powers. We are here to have you flow with your natural abilities. There is no shame to the Mages – unlike our Magick less counterparts. The shame lies with them for tearing down anything they do not understand. I want you to step forth from these walls, show the world who you are and can be.”

“If you can do so, I bid you good luck. Tonight, you will sleep early. I want you to dream, dream of what you want for yourselves out there. That is what is going to help you survive your classes and in time, yourself.”

She smiled suddenly.

“With that, I hope you all have a good night and pleasant dreams.”

It took some time for students to start moving after the speech. Most were probably in some shock from being told to be the exact opposite of what they’d been taught at home.

I was one of them.

We all had learnt in our childhoods that the Undergrounding was to keep us from being burnt at stakes in the town squares. It was our way of keeping and hiding our secrets from the thieving hands of mortals.

They would try to use and leash our Magick for their own uses and the best way to prevent it had been to go into hiding. To rebel against it, was something inconceivable.

For an age that would never listen to rules, we piled up obediently, dispersing just as we had been instructed to.

At night the grounds, soft and luxuriant, were lit with fireflies and twinkling orbs. They hung upon trees and statues like little stars, casting silvery glints on the grass below. It was like walking in your own private galaxy; enchanting and otherworldly.

It was while walking through the gardens of Conjura Halls when I stopped by a bush of tall roses. It was stupid, the impulse. I never allowed myself Magick if I could help it and to do it in the presence of a whole school of Mages.

I had to be out of my mind.

Nevertheless, I reached out, grasping a thick stem and yanking the rose from the bush. The thorns grazed my thumb and fingers, the smell pungent under my nose but I carried it with me inside, climbing the stairs up to my room.

Miyeon had already drawn the curtains, closing off her side of the room when I came in after brushing my teeth, rose still in my hand.

I hoped she was already asleep as I slipped my feet under my sheets, back propped on the headboard.

I cast a look out the window; moonlight flooding into the room unfiltered and closed my eyes, trying to remember what my grandfather had taught me.

Feel it in your core, burning and throbbing, let it seep through your bones, feel it tingling in your muscles…then let it go, don’t hold back.

I opened my eyes, feeling the soft heat in my fingertips, cautiously sitting up in case they increased to a flame. And then to my utter relief, the flower glowed, its matter turning into golden pollen and just when I thought I could reform it, it turned to dust – literally.

I was left sitting on my bed handfuls of burnt ash clutched in my palms.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 4 { I think I forgot to tell this, but I guess I just have to mention it now. This story is purely fictional. Places, names, things may or may not be related with each other. Nor to do harm. Just be reminded that this is all fiction. In case a sensitive issue might arise, since I only rely to what google give me as well. Hehe. Anyway, happy reading :)}

“Boss! I got the de--- Boss?”

He’s too preoccupied by his thoughts that even the voice of his people can’t even get through him, for he is still moved from the yesterday’s happenings. “Boss.” Another hoping call for him, and still no response indeed.

-

“Okay! Can we talk about us, now?”  

His first word the moment he ended the settled deal by call with the Spanish gambler as he steps in the driver’s seat facing her who’s already waiting from the passenger seat. “Shut up. I’m still not in the mood for you, Jang Taeyoung.” Thus he starts the engine as they continue to bicker throughout the ride.

“Come on. Is this still about the prompt proposal? I told you, even I has no clue about it as I thought we’re going to deal with the gun transactions only.”

“Exactly. And it’s your fault.” crossing her arms again as she looks by the window instead. “Tss. You accusing bulldozer. I should have sided the old man instead. I could have enjoyed his humor better than you do.” And that made her turn her head to him. “Well, just make sure to inform me if you plan to betray me soon.”

“Jeez. You really can’t distinguish a joke, are you? What do you think of me? Low-cost? Tss. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to clasp a hand with that geezer, either. I hate him even.” Curious from what she heard. She starts to ask him the usual. “Oh, wow. That’s new. What makes you decide that easily, though?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. As expected, you’re too focus of revenge that you’re unable to see his suspicious look on you.” And it made her forehead crease. “What?” received a shrugging shoulder from him then. “He keeps watching you the whole time whenever your eyes are not on him. Like he had something to remember by you. And it’s too fishy. Too fishy something. I hate it.”  By gripping the steering wheel, he accelerated their phase from the broad road of Seoul while she had to deal with his daydreaming assumptions. “Can you stop your dreaming haughtiness like as if we were even a thing? Tú apesta.”

There she is finally with her curses as she had to roll her eyes up because of him. Yet in the other side, he’s just simply excited to play his cleverness on her again. “Ooh… So you are open considering us as a thing, huh? That hasn’t slip in my mind, though. Shall I say my pleasure, then?” only to receive a glare coming from her.

~

“Send me the details tomorrow. I’ll get back to you once I finish all my meetings.”

Her firm business remark after they went out of the garage, snatching back her car key from him. Went straight to the entrance door to enter her passcode but frowned after realizing that he still around, nor even calling his assistant to fetch him. “What? You’re not leaving? Don’t tell me you’ll somehow get me obliged to call assistance for you?”  yet, he was just there just few meters from her standing, both hands in his pockets while giving her a meaningful stare as if contemplating his words to say to her. 

“Nah. I’m just going to do this.” And he did it, indeed. Occupying the remaining distance between them, swiftly cupping her cheeks by his hands as he deeply claims her lips with wholesomeness. Kissed her under the night sky of darkness and only moon as their witness. 

She was left off-guard that even the sudden tiptoe of her feet is oblivious on her sane, and when she was about to protest, he already pulled away. “You’re too stubborn to talk about your indebtedness from me a while ago. So why not a surprise paycheck will do.”

“Good night, my sweet volatile.”

His last whisper on her ear before guiding the still struck her inside her premise. “Joder esta! Get yourself together, Sung Eunyoung.” She ends up scolding herself indeed after closing the door of her apartment as she was still on her doorstep gripping the doorknob with so much vigor. Heart’s racing with bafflement. She doesn’t want to assume any from him for she knows what kind of man he is, but… “But that look. Mierda!”

She blurts it out indeed. That certain look he never gave to anyone, not until today. Not until with her.  

-

“Boss!”

With one last hope from his assistant, he finally snaps back to reality. Turning his head to face the owner of the voice. “U-uh?” his absentminded out of sane answer still, only to be handled a catalog envelope to his hand. “The details you requested Boss.”  As he only checks what’s inside and thank him. “You may go, Jae.” His final bid indeed but seems to confuse the latter. “Uh. Boss? Should I send it also to Ms.--- “

“No, it’s okay. I can handle.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Thus the assistant went out just as he wanted. While he was left smirking, swirling on his swivel chair with a silly thought in mind. A silly move he always enjoys.

~

The sound of a thrown golf ball elopes the entire walls of her personal sports room for she just finished a previous meeting calls only to receive another incoming. Thus she had pause for a moment and accept it from her smartwatch again.

“Yes, Director.”

“Yes, the honor is mine. I hope the girls on standby made your day, though.”

“I’m glad to hear that. In fact, the prospectus you sent is quite my interest.”

“Oh no. You don’t have---“

Her conversion cut off by a sudden barging from a person she already knew. She almost cusses if only she’s not fast to realize that she’s still conversing to someone over a call, that even the caller had to ask if there’s something wrong. She composes immediately somehow, except that her glaring eyes were darted to the unwelcome visitor though.

“Anyway Director, thank you for trusting your business on us.”

“My pleasure. Expect the response of my secretary by Friday.”

“Yes, please.”

With one last bid of goodbye and a put off of her bluetooth earbud, she indeed fuming mad imposing the great Jang Taeyong who’s just comfortably sitting on the couch. “Didn’t I tell you I get back to you once I finish my meetings? La mierda. You almost ruined everything!”

“But I did not.”

Only to receive a quirky statement from him anyway, that she had no choice either but to entertain, occupying the opposite seat from him. “What now?” thus he showed her the catalog envelope his assistant gave a while ago, while she starts to check the moment she received it only to groan after learning what’s inside. “You really don’t listen, are you? I told you to just send me the details. Email, Jang Taeyoung. I don’t have to see your face just for this.”

“Ah. Uhuh… So that’s what you mean by that? You should have been more specific. Shall I say sorry?”

His quirky answers continue even he always do understand her sentences. And just by looking her unconvinced gaze, he knew she knows as well as he does. “Forget it. You’re here anyway. And since you’re here, better elaborate this asustando papel for me instead. That’s the least you can do.”

Her mocking words indeed by which only made him a cringing brows. “You, woman. You’re always pulling me down. Tss. Fine.” As much as she wants to laugh by his sudden yield, she chose to suppress it anyway. Thus, he started after some fixing with his suit.

“Zilo Alcaziar, the troublemaker son of Veeros Alcaziar. An elite from underground Castellón, Spain. If not with his father’s power he could have rot in jail because of its involvement in many drug activities such as cocaine, cannabis, MDMA and his most favorite…” he intended to halt his words to see her expectant reaction. “What?” her impatience indeed.

“Heroin.”

“Esta mierda! And he’s only 20?! Don’t you dare tell me that it’s even included to the said transaction?”

“Uhuh. Sadly, Yes. No doubt his father is trying to be a good Samaritan for his son.” And so he swears, if only curses can kill. He’s probably the first on the list for he is currently catching every kind of curses from her mouth right now while she takes a deep breath preparing for another information that may stress her somehow. “Okay. Fine. What more should I have to suffer to hear?”  

He can’t help to sneak a laugh by her witty-like remark that he follows anyway and proceeds to another information for her. The rest of their conversation then just became a constant throw-catch disputes of details or rather been said, a matter of question and answer bickering between a lion towards his lioness.

“When was that again?”

“Next month is his arrival. Together with the second cargo entailed of powders obviously as what I have told you. The old man said it will be the same process with the guns next week, so by dawn I and my boys must be on the port on time.”

With the look of her brushing her face. He knows she’s starting to get lost from her thoughts, frustrated. “Dios Mio. A father who’s even letting his son involved. Urgh. Do you really think I can absorb all of this, Jang Taeyoung?”

“Then you better not. You don’t need to get involved with the transactions though and just leave it to me. It’s too dangerous. You do trust me, right?” scoffing from what she heard, she had no choice anyway. “Are you sure?” only to be responded by his groan. “You only reciprocated my question, Sung Eunyoung. I said, do you trust me?” seeking for affirmation from her, she knew his being serious right then that only thing she could do is sigh.

“I should, is maybe my right response to that, Jang Taeyoung. Don’t force me.”

Giving her a stern look doesn’t work somehow, so he gives in anyway. “Fine. Even that isn’t the answer I’m expecting.”  

“Whatever. Can we just end this for today? I had enough headache already.”

As she stands up, picking its golf club from a stand bag, after deciding for another round of play. “You too, should go. I had enough of you as well.” But the latter didn’t even get a hitch to move from his seat and were just watching her from behind. “It’s so unfair. You have your own sports room while I don’t.” his set of grumpiness indeed. “Then get one. You have all money to do that. Why bother patronizing mine. As if you’re into sports. Your sports room will be useless anyway.”   

“Tss. Bulldozer. Who says I don’t? And I love bowling!”

With a hit from the golf club, she finally heard the shut of the door, left by a grumpy still Jang Taeyoung. For she only gives in a deep sigh, still remembering yesterday. She really has to be careful around him. Does not like to admit, but…

“He’s the death of you, Sung Eunyoung.”    

Reminding herself certainly.

[infjtarot]

King of Wands ~ Tavaglione's Tarot of the Stars (I Tarocchi delle Stella.)

  Keywords Creativity, ingenuity, achievement, direction Range of Meaning Light: Putting old things together in new and exciting ways. Coming up with unexpected solutions. Using your experience to solve puzzles and problems. Doing what you set out to do. Directing the efforts of others. Shadow: Using your creativity to get out of honest work. Investing great energy in avoiding responsibility. Boasting about achievements without putting your expertise to practical use. Lording it over others. Correspondences Personality: The King of Wands can represent anyone who wants to oversee or take control of (King) a situation (Wands), especially in academic, romantic, and professional areas of life. The King may also represent the tendency to be more authoritative than cooperative or the need to control the actions of others. Elemental: Fire of Fire. Affirmation: "I use my authority and experience to get things done faster." Story: Surrounded by indecision, the Main Character takes control and gives orders. Advice Relationships. When it comes to your own relationships, you're in the driver's seat. What do you want? Are you getting it? If not, why not? While relationships are a two-way street, you ultimately decide whether or not you will continue to be involved. It could be time to lay down the law. Work. Someone in authority needs to be calling the shots. There is a need for input from an experienced worker who has been empowered to cut through red tape and make things happen. If you're that person, step up. If you're not that person, step aside. Spirituality. Who's in control? We like to think we hold the reins of our lives, but all too often, the Universe reminds us that we are a very small cog in a very large machine. Consider today the role you play in larger plans, and make yourself available to be a means for accomplishing great things. Personal Growth. In order to achieve your goals, you must control what you can: your habits, your choices, your schedule. Without being rigid, you can put a structure in place that takes the craziness out of the most hectic days. That foundation will help you maintain the calmness of a King, even when the castle walls are falling down around you. Fortune Telling. This card represents an older man with a commanding, charismatic personality, likely born between November 13th and December 12th, who prefers to give directions and have them followed. When? Between November 13th and December 12th. Symbols and Insights The Lion and Salamander. The Lion, often seen on the throne of RWS-inspired versions of this card, has long been a symbol of royalty. The lowly salamander was once thought to be born in fire and capable of passing through flame without injury. In your situation, who is trying to appear impervious to attack? Why? The Posture of Authority. The posture of the King of Wands is generally relaxed, but authoritative. He often sits with legs apart, suggesting sexual dominance. There's a lesson here: half of being confident is acting confident. Power vs. Preparedness. Many are eager for power and authority, but few are prepared to accept the consequences of absolute power. Are you? The Marseilles Image. The Marseilles King of Wands looks positively splendid with his wide-brimmed crown, epaulets, and gleaming armor. He is the picture of confident command. His demeanor may hold the key to your situation. What would happen if you were to lead while clearly expecting others to follow? Questions to Ask · How confident a leader am I? · How can I project more confidence? · How can I offer my expertise in ways that inspire others to follow me?

[chinateacup]

Commission for @asrasdarling

Thank you so much for commissioning me again @asrasdarling !! Repeat customers are so rare for me, and I’m so happy you liked my stuff enough to want more :,) anyways, here’s 3k of a fluffy high school au. Enjoy!

((my commissions are still open btw))

Fandom: The Arcana

Characters: Asra, Julian, Portia, OC

Pairings: Asra/OC

Rating: No rating required

Jenna showed the bus driver her pass, and took the nearest open seat.

Why was she so nervous? She wasn’t doing anything she’d never done before. Her hair was done the same way it always was, her outfit wasn’t anything that special, and she was on the same bus she got on every day to get to school.

Except, of course, she wasn’t going to school. She was going to Asra’s house.

Jenna bit her lip. When people asked, she always said their relationship was complicated. That was an exaggeration, and she knew it. They were friends, and she loved that they were. Asra was kind, and thoughtful, and was always super helpful with homework.

But he also had painfully soft skin, and a smile that turned her brain to jelly mid-thought. Much less helpful with homework.

Jenna took a breath, willing her heart to stop beating so fast, and recalled their conversation this morning.

“Hey!”

Jenna smiled against her pillow at the familiar voice. “Hey yourself,” she said into the phone.

“Sorry it’s so early.” Asra sounded surprisingly awake. He wasn’t usually a morning person… she suspected his mom had dragged him out of bed before noon. “But I forgot to mention the homework you missed Thursday. We have ten pages to analyse.”

“Wait, what?” Jenna sat up bolt upright. “Is that due tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” He whined. “I got distracted! Julian found a four-legged beetle in biology and we thought it might be scientific discovery.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling involuntarily. “Was it a scientific discovery?”

“No, Jenna, the beetle died. Then we had to give it a funeral, and…” Asra trailed off. “Anyway, that’s why I forgot to tell you. The grief must have really affected me.”  

She snorted. “Yeah, you sound all torn up.”

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled. “Hey, how about you come over today? I’ll help you go over it?” Jenna opened her mouth to reply. “Or before school tomorrow,” he added quickly. “Whatever you like.”

“Today works great,” she said, immediately blushing. Did that sound too eager?

“Great!” Asra said, sounding very eager indeed. “You remember my address. See you a bit!”

He hung up the phone, and Jenna sighed, flopping back against her pillow.

She was still turning the call over in her mind when she hopped off the bus, walked up the porch, and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.

It swung open a moment later. Asra beamed down at her, and she smirked back. “Are you wearing pyjamas?”

“Good morning to you too,” he held out an arm, beckoning her inside and noticing the cups in her hand. “Ooh, did you bring tea?”

“It’s not tea.”

His nose wrinkled as he shut the door. “I don’t really drink coffee.”

Jenna shoved a cup into his hand. “Hot cocoa?”

Asra gasped like she had opened the Heavens for him. “You’re an angel. Thank you.” He cradled the cup in his hands, and started up the stairs. “Come on, let’s go before you get me all distracted.”

Jenna groaned, but followed him up the carpeted stairway. At the end of the landing, Asra flicked his light on, and kicked some clothes under the bed. His room was the same as Jenna remembered; wallpapered with posters and tapestries, plush red carpet, a tiny fold-out table. It wasn’t a huge room, and it had clearly taken some creativity to fit two chairs at the desk.

Somehow, even though she’d been here before, the room felt… different. The last time, Asra’s parents had been right downstairs. A few friends had been with them, and they had still insisted on the door staying open. At least fifteen centimetres, they’d said.

Asra shut the door behind them.

Jenna swallowed.

But if something felt different to Asra too, he was doing a great job hiding it. They sat at the desk, and Asra grabbed the script from Jenna’s bag, skimming over the notes she had already made. He chewed his lip as he read.

“You’re actually half-way done,” he said finally, breaking the silence and flipping open his own work. “If you want to answer the question of the characters’ motivations, that is, Stanley’s is good. You just need to do Stella’s.”

“Well, thank you very much,” Jenna teased. “Do you think we’ll be done with this play before we’re dead and buried?”

“We will be if your wonderful friend can remind you about the homework,” Asra jabbed, though it had no real heat behind it. “So, Stanley as a character is a typical, domineering male. His motivation in his relationship with Stella is not love, it’s the ability and power that comes with exercising control. He is happy with Stella, as long as she doesn’t step out of line and allows him to… Jenna?”

“Hm?” Jenna looked up from her phone.

Asra closed his eyes, and she half expected him to be mad at her. But he just chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we know that’s what he gets out of it,” he continued with a smile. “What about Stella?”

Jenna inhaled slowly. She’d torn himself away from her phone, but that look on Asra’s face was proving to be a way more lethal distraction. Dimples. “Uh, well, she… loves him, right? And she’s pregnant, so it’s not like she can leave him that easy even if she wanted.”

Asra hummed under his breath. “You think she loves him?”

Jenna paused. “…I don’t think that’s the right word. No, she doesn’t love him, but there is something about him… pulling her in…”

His lips twitched. “Attraction?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she nodded, making a note of it on her script. “Stella is drawn in by this chemistry they have between them. It’s just like Blanche and Mitch; they make all the excuses to see each other that they can, and when we see them back at the house, it’s obvious they’re trying to skirt around the subject, since Mitch is so awkward about it and Blanche doesn’t wanna scare him off, but at the end of the day, both of them have to accept that there’s this obvious…”

Jenna finished writing and looked up, only to find Asra had been watching her face the entire time. When their eyes met, Asra blushed, startled, but didn’t look away.

“…Tension,” he finished for her.

Jenna nodded. “Yeah. That.”

Asra licked his lips, cheeks still bitten with colour, and went right back to his own extract. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

The room felt warmer suddenly, and Jenna took off her sweater, draping it over the back of the chair. Asra glanced over her top curiously, but said nothing. “So, um, aside from Stanley’s abuse,” Jenna said. “Stella has some attraction to him. I mean, they’re compatible partners.”

“Yep. Compatible. Very true.”

It was around that time, when Asra’s face was tinged pink and those little dimples were forming at the corner of his mouth, that Jenna realised she wanted to kiss him.

And she had no clue how to make that happen.

She’d never really… well, maybe a couple of people had shown interest but no one she’d ever returned feelings for. She’d never had a boyfriend, not a real one anyways, and she didn’t know what routine she was meant to do to get one. She didn’t know the rules. How do you ask someone out? How had she made it to eighteen without asking anyone out?!

Jenna drummed her fingers on the desk. “Asra?”

“Yes?” He looked up.

Jenna took a breath. Held it. “Nothing.” She nodded at Asra’s cup. “That’s gonna get cold. You should drink up.”

“Right, yes. I will,” He nodded, smiling politely, and took a sip of cocoa.

He didn’t speak again for a while.

Jenna didn’t really think anything of it, since Asra had always been quiet when he was focusing. He hummed in response to questions, high pitch for yes, low for no. Over lunch, she was glued to her phone anyway, and didn’t notice much around her.

It wasn’t until Jenna had finally shut her book and rested her head on the desk that she noticed they hadn’t spoken for hours.

“We did it,” she tried, giving a lazy thumbs up.

“It only took five times longer than it should have,” Asra laughed shorty, stretching his arms out like a cat.

“Well, that doesn’t really matter, does it?” Jenna spun in the office chair. “I mean, it’s a pretty good excuse to hang out together.” Asra hummed, and she pursed her lips, thinking. “Can I ask you a question?”

He hesitated. “Yes. Of course you can.”

“…Have you ever had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, or…?”

Asra shook his head. “No. I mean, not… not a real one. I don’t think you could call what Ilya and I had a relationship.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, stopping when they hit the ceiling. “Have you ever been in love?”

The question surprised Jenna herself, and she blushed, not quite meeting Asra’s eyes. When she did though, they were surprisingly calm. “No.”

Jenna nodded, mind about a million miles away from her body. When it came back, he was speaking. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Been in love.” he was asking. “Have you ever?”

“Oh,” She picked at her already chipped nail polish. “No, me neither.”

Asra shrugged. “Well, we’re eighteen. I guess we have plenty of time to...” he faltered. “You know.”

“Guess so.”

There was a pause where she thought to voice something unspoken between them. But then a beat passed, and she’d already missed her shot.

“It’s coming up to six,” Asra noted. “Where were you thinking for dinner?”

Oh God, anything. Anywhere you want. With you. “Portia and Julian are actually picking me up from here. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you came with?”

“Oh. Sure, dinner with Portia and Ilya sounds fun.” Was it wishful thinking, or did he sound disappointed they wouldn’t be alone? “Did they say what time they’d be here?”

“No.”

“Right.”

“…I’m sure it won’t be long.”

Half an hour later, Jenna was sat crossed-legged on the bed, and the Devoraks still hadn’t showed. “Tight spaces? Really?”

“Mmhm. I hate them.” Asra sat mirroring her.

“I said weirdest fear! Everyone has some claustrophobia.”

“You told me I had to answer honestly, and you’ve already broken the rules by asking more than twenty questions! I don’t have any weird fears.” He bumped his arm against Jenna’s briefly, before pulling away. Even that casual touch was enough to set off every nerve in her body. “It’s your turn. What’s your weirdest fear?”

“Ducks.”

“Ducks?”

“When I was eight, I got like, swarmed by those things at the lake. One of them bit me on the ankle. I literally thought I was gonna die. Don’t you dare laugh at me, it’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Asra’s voice shook, but he managed to steel his expression into a tight smile. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Of course you’re not,” She huffed, lying back against the pillows. “Um… alright, most surprising talent, go.”

Asra barely had to think for a moment. “I can tumble.”

Jenna gasped. “No, you can’t!”

“Well, I could tumble when I was twelve,” he shrugged. “One of my friends in middle school was a gymnast. I had a knack for it.”

“You’re showing me.”

“There’s no room here.”

“We are going to the dance studio first thing in the morning, and you’re showing me.”

“It’s your turn now.”

“Oh, moving along quickly now, are we–?”

“Your turn, Jenna! Most surprising talent.”

She shifted against the pillow, folding her hands on her stomach. “Give me another one.”

“I answered, so you have to.”

“I don’t have any surprising talents!” She said at the ceiling. There was a shift of weight as Asra lay down next to her, and she tried to ignore it, even as she felt herself being watched. “I must just be great at everything.”

He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and Jenna closed her eyes.

“So, earlier…” Asra spoke slowly, in a voice that didn’t sound quite like his own. “You said that you’d never been in love.”

“That’s true, yes.”

“Right. But is there…” He shifted against the pillow. She opened her eyes. “Is there anyone that you…?”

Asra was the type of person that was hard to lie to. So Jenna didn’t even consider it. “Yes.”

“Oh,” he said quietly.

“Do you?” She asked immediately to stop him from thinking any more on it.

“I… no, no I don’t.”

“Cool.” This wasn’t a surprise. This wasn’t news. Jenna had no reason to believe he would be interested, and there was zero evidence that he ever was or ever will be. This was not a surprise.

Why had that hurt more than it should?

“This person,” Asra asked, even though it wasn’t his turn. She didn’t want to correct him. “Do they go to our school?”

“Yeah,” She said. “He does. He’s in our year.” A beat passed between them. “Ah, are you a cat person or dog person?”

“Cat person,” he replied. “If he’s in our year, do I know him?”

“Yeah. You know him,” Jenna swallowed, turning on her side so she could see him. Asra did the same, his expression flushed and unreadable. They lay face-to-face. “Who’s your favourite band?”

“Paramore.” Asra sounded distracted. “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice. And smart. He’s always been super friendly with me, I just… guess I’m being selfish wanting more,” she chuckled. “Go-to soda?”

“Sprite. How long have you felt this way?”

“Since we met,” she muttered. “I mean, I’ve always thought he was cute and stuff, but when I got to know him better, he was… actually really amazing.” Jenna hadn’t once broken Asra’s gaze. Her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest. “Favourite food?”

“Pumpkin pie.” Both their voices were hushed, like they were sharing secrets. Like they were scared they’d be overheard, even though they were alone. “Why do you think you’re being selfish?”

“Because I should be happy with his friendship, and I’m not. It’s different. I want his undivided attention. I want to know him.” She took a breath. “Star sign?”

“Gemini. You’re not selfish.”

“I think I am.”

“You’re not. You’re right, it is different.”

“Pets?”

“A snake. Are you going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Do you think he does?”

“I just asked.”

“Then yes.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Then there was a hand under Jenna’s chin, and Asra was kissing her.

It wasn’t a great kiss. It was clumsy, and unfocused, and Asra’s aim was a little off since they were both lying on their sides. And then it was over much too quickly, and she barely had time to open her eyes before his hand left her jaw.

“I, um…” Asra’s voice shook, pulling away, sitting back against the headboard. “Jen, I don’t…”

Jenna moved up with him, and cupped his face to kiss him properly. Asra’s eyes shut lazily, shoulders relaxing with relief, and she brought her fingers to the nape of his neck, tangling them in short, soft curls. Asra’s hands hovered nervously at her waist, unsure where to put them, before settling on holding her wrists, thumb brushing against her skin.

The kiss broke when they both ran out of breath, and Jenna tried a shaky smile. “…So, I think we have some stuff to clear up.”

Asra nodded. “You did mean me, right? Or have I badly misread this?”

“It’s you,” She laughed breathlessly. “And when you said you didn’t like anyone right now…?”

“I lied,” he confirmed. “I swear one day I’ll stop screwing up, and I’ll stop saying the wrong thing. I’ve just liked you for so long, I-I… I’m only half convinced this isn’t a dream!” He laughed shortly, flustered. “I really hope this is real. I want to know you too, Jenna. And I want to be known. By you, obviously.”

Her hands found his. “You do?”

“I do.”

“Oh my God.” Jenna grinned brilliantly, and pulled Asra into another kiss. It was shorter than the last one, since she suspected he hadn’t quite gotten his breath back, but when she went to break it, Asra chased her lips, pulling her right back in.

She sighed against his mouth. “This might be my new favourite thing.”

“Same here,” Asra murmured, kneeling up when she did and wrapping his arms around her torso. When she deepened the kiss, though, his legs buckled, and they fell back against the bed with a laugh.

Asra looked up, red-faced and breathless, as she gently placed her glasses on the bedside table. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Jenna said against his skin, trailing her lips across his cheek, past his jawline and his throat. Asra laughed, muttering that it tickled, and she snorted, holding his waist to pull him in closer and –

BZZT. BZZT.

They both froze, staring at what little space remained between them. Asra blinked. “Is that your phone?”

Jenna scowled, sitting up and detangling their legs to grab her phone from the end of the bed. She pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Jenna? We’re outside!” Julian had to yell against the sound of the traffic. “Would you mind asking Asra to open the door? It’s freezing out here!”

She huffed, still getting her breath back. “Where were you two? I called you both like, three times.”

“Ah, yes, very sorry. I apparently had it on silent all day, and... oh, Pasha says the door’s unlocked – hey, no, at least knock first!”

“Anybody home?” Jenna heard Portia yell from downstairs.

“Crap.” Jenna hung up, scrambling off the bed. “They’re coming up!”

Asra looked panicked, and dove to sit at his desk, smoothing over his hair as best he could. She did the same, replacing her glasses and fanning herself with her hands. Asra frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make my face less red.”

“It’s making it worse.”

“Well, at least I’m trying, you’re definitely redder!”

Asra blushed darker, wiped away the gloss she had kissed onto his mouth, and someone knocked just as she was taking out her ruined ponytail.

Portia poked her head around the door, looked between them and smiled. “Great, looks like Asra’s coming! Your taxi’s here.”

Julian followed her in, looking sheepish. “I did tell her to knock.”

Asra breathed a small sigh. “It’s okay. Thanks for driving us all.”

“It’s no trouble. I knew Jenna would probably be tired from, uh, studying with you.” He smirked slightly, and kept his eyes on the carpet.

Portia shot Jenna a look, so small anyone else would have missed it. She didn’t. “Yeah, studying. Glad you guys had a fun day.”

They followed the siblings down the staircase, and Asra locked the front door behind them. Jenna leaned in close so he couldn’t hear her whisper. “You two totally know, don’t you?”

Julian snickered, and Portia grinned. “In the car, you’re telling us everything.”

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 13

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

THE NEXT MORNING

PINKERTON HQ, BLACKWATER

Gazing out a nearby window, Agent Fordham casually watched the streets of Blackwater as men and women paced around all over the place, traveling from one end of the city to another.

Business carried on as usual in the small town, and despite the damage Dutch’s men caused to the bank during the robbery, everything else seemed to functioning just fine.

The only thing that was missing from the bustling sight... was Arthur Morgan himself.

It had only been a couple of days since Agent Ross proposed his deal to that man, but they had yet to see any sign of the outlaw ever since then. The other Pinkertons patrolling The Great Plains reported no visuals of Mr. Morgan in the area, and his son was apparently nowhere to be found either.

Fordham liked to believe that they were still considering the decision and would show up at their headquarters eventually, but the pessimistic side of him knew better.

Arthur had no reason to trust the Pinkertons. Milton didn’t exactly make the best impression on Dutch all those years ago, so Fordham supposed it only made sense that Arthur would put as much distance between himself and Blackwater as possible... but he had hoped that the man would give Isaac a chance by turning himself in.

That boy was hardly a man yet, and he had already been thrown into the unforgiving world of outlaws. If there was any way to avoid killing him needlessly, Fordham was willing to take it.

Unfortunately, he doubted Ross felt the same.

“You think Mr. Morgan will accept our deal?” Fordham asked Edgar, glancing away from the window.

Ross leaned back in his desk’s chair and stuck a pipe between his lips, speaking through clenched teeth while he held the object in place.

“Unlikely,” he replied, bringing a flame to the pipe’s tip. “That man’s about as stubborn as Dutch van der Linde himself. Trust me, I’ve known him for many years now. It was pointless to attempt a deal with him. We should’ve arrested him and his son when we had the chance.”

Fordham hesitated, trying to remain as professional as possible. “But... don’t you think it’s worth a try? Saving his son, I mean. If Arthur accepts our deal, Isaac will perhaps have a chance to live like civilized folk. And carry on with his future.”

Edgar blew out a puff of smoke, exhaling deeply as he extinguished the match with a quick wave.

“Our focus is to protect law-abiding citizens, Archer.” He said in a bored tone. “When it comes to criminals or savages, we do not concern ourselves with their personal lives or well-being. All that matters is bringing them to justice. Of course, how we handle the situation depends on how they behave, but ultimately -- their future is not our concern. Their end is.”

Archer was reluctant to agree. “I understand, but in the end, criminals are still humans. Not all of them break the law for the same reason. In some cases, it’s greed. In others, power. But in Isaac’s case, it’s survival. You’ve read the files. He was forced into this life with no way out. Wouldn’t you say that someone at his age deserves to make a real life for himself?”

Still, Edgar’s mind remained unswayed. “It is not my place to decide, Archer. Nor is it yours. I’m only going along with your deal for now because I want to help you. But in the end, the final decision resides with the judge. If Arthur and Isaac put themselves in a position where they must be killed, then the only thing we need to worry about is pulling the trigger fast enough. Though, of course, obtaining them alive would be ideal.”

Fordham turned back to the window, trying to conceal the begrudging expression on his face.

“...I understand, sir.”

“Good.” Edgar said simply, standing up from the chair. “Then I trust that the next time we see Arthur or his son, you will not hesitate to bring them in?”

Archer shook his head staunchly. “No, sir. Of course not.”

The other agent nodded in approval. “Good. We have far too many issues to worry about already when it comes to the savages of this country. The last thing we need is complications within civilization itself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Agent Fordham...”

Ross grabbed his coat and headed for the office’s door, leaving Archer to his own devices.

“...I’ve got something to attend to.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

THE GENERAL STORE, VALENTINE

Handing money over to the shopkeeper, Arthur stuffed some of the new provisions he’d just purchased into his satchel and began making his way for the shop’s exit, throwing a quick wave behind him before he took his leave.

“Thanks, mister.”

The shopkeeper gave him a polite nod. “Y’have a good day now, sir.”

Pushing the door open, Arthur stepped back outside into the muddy streets of Valentine as a chain of horses and wagons lazily rolled past him, their drivers still in the process of waking up.

It was chilly this morning, or at least chillier than the one before, and thanks to the bleak clouds veiling the sky, the sun was barely able to break through.

Arthur didn’t much like being this close to civilization, but he figured it’d be a good idea to grab some more food and winter clothing before heading up to Ambarino.

He sure hadn’t forgotten how cold it was in that region, and part of him wished they would never have to return there, but if there was any place in this country that would prevent the Pinkertons from tracking them, Arthur was willing to bet it’d be in the mountains.

The only thing that really worried him now, was Dutch. That man may not have been strong enough to survive the snow, but he was definitely crazy enough to try.

And that alone was enough to frighten Arthur.

“Hey, mister!” A voice suddenly called out, leading the man to glance to his side. “Over here!”

Standing next to the building, Arthur spotted an elderly man occupying the alleyway between the general goods store and the saloon, and it looked like his eyes were pinned on him at the moment. His hair was frazzled, his face was covered in dirt, and his ragged shirt almost resembled an old Union uniform.

As for his sleeves, one of them had been folded in half due to the amputated limb, and...

Wait a second.

Arthur narrowed his eyes in recognition.

“...Mickey? Is that you?”

The older man’s eyes twinkled upon hearing his name. “So you do remember me! Oh, I certainly remember you, mister. Your name’s Arthur, isn’t it? Like the king.”

Arthur nodded. “Yep.”

Mickey smiled warmly. “Oh, well... it’s good to see you again, friend. You was always kind to me. I remember. Everyone else in this town ignored me -- and they still do -- but you was always willing to lend an ear. I never forgot you.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, mister. I spoke with your son, y’know.”

That caught the outlaw’s attention. “You met Isaac?”

“Yeah,” the veteran replied. “I thought he was you. He looks just like you did, all them years ago. Though, he’s a bit angrier, I think. Not as nice as you was.”

Arthur sighed apologetically. “...Sorry ‘bout that. The boy’s been... goin’ through some things lately.”

Surprisingly, Mickey didn’t seem offended. “Oh no, it’s fine, mister. Your son might be angry, but I’ve seen that type of anger before. In the war, men would always get angry when they was hurt. They would end up hurting others. I think Isaac’s the same. He looks... sad. Just like you.”

The outlaw didn’t entirely know what to make of that. “Does he.”

“Yeah. I asked him why, but he didn’t say much. Just told me that you was dying.”

Arthur shook his head. “I already told him, I ain’t--” a short cough interrupted him. “--I ain’t... dying.”

Mickey gazed at him with concern. “You sure, buddy? Your boy’s right. You don’t look so good.”

The other man cleared his throat. “Well... I dunno. But I ain’t dead yet, and that’s all that matters.”

“But you will die.”

Arthur shrugged despondently. “Everyone dies.”

“Sure,” Mickey agreed, “but it still hurts. No one likes losing things. Things that they love. And your son, well... he don’t wanna lose you. Especially since he already lost his ma.”

Arthur cocked a brow at him. “You know about her?”

“The boy only told me a bit, but he said she died when he was real little. He couldn’t save her. And now, you’re dying, too. And he can’t save you either.”

The outlaw let out a breath. “But why take his anger out on me? Or you? It ain’t like I asked for this.”

“I don’t know.” Micky answered truthfully. “But I think you should talk with your son. I always feel better when I talk to people. Maybe you will, too.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment, eventually agreeing with the man.

“Yeah... I think he and I need to have a few words.”

The veteran seemed pleased with that. “Well, I wish you luck.” 

“D’you know where he is?”

Mickey pointed to the saloon. “Yeah, I saw him head behind the saloon. He’s havin’ a drink there, I think.”

Arthur followed the man’s gaze. “What, at this hour?” He let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll go find him.”

The veteran said one last thing to Arthur, stopping the outlaw in his tracks just before he could leave.

“Hey, mister! Could you spare a dollar?”

Arthur nodded, reaching into his satchel. “Sure.” 

Mickey gave him an appreciative look. “Thanks, friend. You take care of yourself now. We need more folks like you around here.”

The outlaw laughed at that, waving goodbye. “Oh, I ain’t too sure about that.”

Strolling away from the homeless veteran, Arthur wandered down the narrow alleyway and to the back of the saloon, right next to where the barber’s door was. 

Sure enough, he found Isaac sitting on a barrel with a beer bottle in his hand, and it looked like Aldo was standing quietly beside him.

The young man didn’t look so good at the moment. His head was lowered in sorrow, and his shoulders slouched in discouragement. His eyes seemed to be glued on the ground in front of him, and if he noticed Arthur’s presence, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Something was definitely wrong. Arthur just wished the man would tell him what.

“Isaac?” He called out, walking up to him. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

The boy remained seated, not even bothering to shift his gaze. “Just wanted to get away from everyone.”

Arthur glanced through the saloon’s windows, raising a brow at the incredible lack of customers.

“...There’s three people in there, Isaac. Bartender and barber included.”

Isaac sighed in annoyance. “Look, I just needed to be alone, okay?”

The outlaw chuckled softly, though not in a mocking manner. He stepped next to the young man and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a casual fashion.

“Listen, son... I spoke to Mickey.”

Isaac lifted his head in confusion. “...Who?”

“The homeless Union vet.” He explained.

“Oh, is that his name? Yeah, I spoke with him, too.”

“So I’ve been told.” Arthur fell silent for a second, taking on a more serious tone. “...He says you think I’m dying.”

Isaac took a swig of his drink. “I ain’t a child no more, Dad. I don’t think you’re dying. I know you are. That much is obvious.”

Arthur felt another series of coughs tickling his throat, but did his best to hold it back for now.

“Well, even if that’s true, I ain’t dead yet, Isaac. I’m still here. So let’s save the eulogies for when I’m actually gone.”

“...You say that like it’s so easy.”

Isaac finished the rest of his beer and set the bottle down with some force, clearly upset.

“Don’t you get it? Apart from mom, you’re the only person I’ve had in my life that I could actually trust. After she died, everyone else I met always wanted to kill me, or use me in some way. Even Shay. He never raised me for my sake. He only did it so he’d have another gun to order around. I guess...” he trailed off for a second, his voice becoming much softer, “...I guess I just got used to being alone. It was the only choice I had. There was no one else I could depend on.”

He turned to look at Arthur. “Now that I’ve met you though, I can do it again. And... it feels good, y’know. To be able to trust someone. To have someone that... you love.”

Isaac returned to his irritated nature, hopping off the barrel. “But now you’re sick. And dying. And I’m gonna be left alone. Again.”

The boy began to walk off, causing Arthur to pace after him.

“I understand that, Isaac, but it ain’t like I chose this. You think I wanted to get sick?”

Isaac rested a hand on Aldo’s saddle, letting out a deep sigh. 

“No. I... I don’t. I know you didn’t. I’m just...” he took a breath, struggling to get the right words out, “...I wish things was different, alright? I wish I could help you. I wish... you were okay.”

Arthur put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, trying to reassure the boy.

“I know, kiddo. I do, too. But the truth is... we can’t always control life. Sometimes, life kicks us in the ass and expects us to cope whether we’re ready for it or not. And we can’t control it when that happens. But what we can control, is how we deal with it.”

Arthur stepped closer to Isaac, looking him in the eye. “Listen, it’s clear to both of us that I ain’t got much time left in this world. Whether that means I have three months or three years, I don’t know. But I ain’t gonna be around forever. Unlike what happened with Eliza though, we’re prepared this time. We have the luxury of knowin’ what to expect. So we can kick and scream at the world for being unfair, or we can make use of the time we have left together.”

He paused, glancing down at the ground. “This is the only chance we’ll get to make things right, Isaac. Let’s not waste it.”

Taking in everything Arthur just said, Isaac responded with nothing but a profound silence and gazed blankly at the distant horizon, his eyes carrying a heavy sense of exhaustion within them.

It was difficult for Arthur, watching his son go through this. No parent alive wanted to tell their own child that they were dying, but Arthur learned long ago that it was impossible to live a bad life and expect good things to happen. 

He wished he could be there to see Isaac grow into an old man or start a family of his own, but this was the reality they had to deal with.

Arthur’s sins were finally catching up to him, and Isaac was going to pay the price.

“...Hey, Dad.” The young man said, getting his father’s attention.

Arthur threw him a curious look. “Yeah?”

Isaac’s brow furrowed in guilt. “I’m... sorry for what I said yesterday. I know I was pretty harsh.”

The older man wasn’t too bothered by it. If anything, part of him felt bad for snapping at the kid after he expressed his frustration.

“Harsh? Yes. Wrong? Well, not entirely.”

Isaac looked down in shame. “No, I was wrong. You may not’ve been there much when I was a kid, but I know you wanted to be. The truth is... I didn’t mean a goddamn word of what I said. I don’t wanna be anything like Micah. Or Dutch. Or Shay. I wanna be like you.”

Arthur shook his head in disagreement. 

“No, Isaac. You don’t. When this is all over... you’re gonna be your own man. A better man.”

The boy seemed lost. “But how am I gonna do that?”

Arthur smirked warmly. “Well, that’s the beauty of it. It’s entirely up to you.”

Leaving Isaac to his thoughts, the older man patted him on the shoulder and beckoned the kid to follow him into the street, eager to get a head start on their journey to Ambarino.

Despite being somewhat conflicted about their future, Arthur suspected the young man felt slightly better now. He still carried that same gloomy look in his eye as before, but his demeanor didn’t appear as solemn anymore.

He seemed... different. Hopeful. A little sad perhaps, but unwilling to give up. 

There was a newfound sense of determination in his step, and even though Arthur could clearly see that Isaac was still hurting over his father’s illness, he knew that the young man would pull through. 

He was strong. Much stronger than he realized. Arthur just wished Isaac would put that strength to good use.

He seemed to have a habit of getting lost in the past. Everything he did revolved around his desire for revenge, and Arthur could only hope that once his time came, Isaac wouldn’t live the rest of his life trying to avenge his death.

There was so much more in the world that he could experience. So much for him to do. 

Arthur’s only wish now, was that he’d be able to make Isaac see that.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW HOURS LATER

THE VAN DER LINDE CAMP

“...Goddamn. You are one, ugly bastard.” Bill murmured, observing the fresh wounds on Micah’s face. The man had just woken up from his beating and was currently sitting under a makeshift tent, attempting to get a better look at his injuries.

“Well, I wouldn’t be if you’d have gotten to me sooner. Where the hell was you when Joe and I was doin’ all the work?”

Bill defended himself. “Hey, I was keepin’ a lookout! Just like you fellas told me to. Don’t act like I wasn’t doin’ my job.”

Micah chuckled sarcastically, glowering at the other man. “Well, you wasn’t. Couldn’t even see Arthur ridin’ towards us at full speed. You only came runnin’ after Joe was shot. I dunno if you’re aware of this, Marion, but the whole point of a goddamn lookout is to make sure that doesn’t happen!”

Bill lurched forward out of anger. “Hey, don’t call me that!”

The one-eyed man didn’t back down. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer ‘moron?’ It’d be more fitting, anyhow.”

Bill pointed a finger at Micah, only to end up clenching it into a fist as he grumbled to himself in frustration.

“You... you don’t...” he waved a dismissive hand, walking away from the man. “Y’know what, forget it. Dutch can look after your goddamn wounds himself.”

Micah laughed, taunting Bill as he stormed off in the opposite direction. “Yeah, sure. Drink yourself into a stupor, why don’t you? Leave the real work to the big boys. Heheh.”

The other man shook his head in anger. “You’re a fool, Micah! A goddamn fool!”

Watching Bill retreat to the opposite end of the camp, Micah relaxed into his bedroll again and chortled lowly to himself, amused at Williamson’s annoyance.

 He didn’t know how on Earth that man was still alive, considering how easily he got riled up. Most folks with a temper like that got shot at one point or another, and yet, Bill was still here. Keeping Dutch company even after Arthur, John, and Hosea were all gone.

Who would’ve thought?

Dragging himself over to the small, circular mirror by his tent, Micah slipped off the final bandage around his head and unveiled the nasty gash underneath, revealing a permanently closed eye.

Thanks to the laceration Isaac gave him the previous day, his top eyelid had been sealed shut, and a diagonal scar now carved its way through his brow.

Micah’s vision had been cut in half, and yet, the man only found himself feeling twice as eager to put Morgan’s brat into the ground.

Who the hell did that little boy think he was? Attacking their gang and killing off their members, and then trying to run away from it? No one just... attacked the Van der Linde gang and lived. 

Micah had half a mind to give Isaac the same treatment Arthur gave him down at the river. That kid stole their money, ruined their supplies, and caused their gang to shrink to just three men. Two of which were utter fools.

The only problem he had now was actually finding the boy. Lord only knew how far he and Arthur had traveled by this point, and judging by the lack of updates from Dutch, Micah assumed their almighty leader wasn’t having any more luck with tracking Arthur down himself.

He’d have to think of an alternate method. A quicker method. 

But most importantly, he’d need help.

“Micah!” Dutch called from behind, his reflection growing in the mirror as he approached the small tent. “You’re awake.”

“Hey, boss.” Micah greeted, turning to face Dutch. The other man paused upon seeing his new scar.

“...Arthur surely did a number on your eye, didn’t he?”

“It was Isaac who did it,” he corrected. “That boy’s young and stupid, but he knows how to use a knife.”

Dutch sighed worriedly. “Oh, he knows how to do much more than that, I’m afraid.” A strong cough escaped him, causing him to spit on the grass before wiping his mouth. “I spoke with Bill. He says Arthur killed Joe.”

“Yeah. His body flowed downstream.”

“Well, we don’t have the time to retrieve him. Let alone bury him. Right now, the three of us need to focus on findin’ Arthur, and puttin’ him down for good. Problem is, he ain’t alone.”

Micah held up a thoughtful finger, standing up from his bedroll. “Well, y’know, Dutch, before Bill tried to play mother hen with me earlier... I was thinking. We all know Arthur’s big and bad, but no matter how strong that man is, he’s bound to have a weakness. A soft spot where we can hit him real hard, and hurt him real good.”

Dutch had a feeling he already knew what that weakness was. “Go on.”

Micah continued with his explanation, slowly pacing back and forth in front of his tent. “The boy, Dutch. You’ve seen how much he means to Arthur. Hell, he was willin’ to bail on you for the kid. That’s gotta mean something.”

The other man placed a foot on a nearby stump, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, what? You sayin’ we should kill Isaac first?”

“No, Dutch. Don’t you see?” Micah strolled up to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need to kill Arthur at all. The only thing we gotta do is put a good ol’ fashioned bullet through Isaac’s skull, and the rest will handle itself. You’ll have your revenge, and we’ll have one less problem to worry about.”

Unsurprisingly, Dutch didn’t seem to fully approve of the plan.

“I don’t know, Micah. I...” his voice tugged with heartache, “...I hate Arthur... for what he did to me. And I want nothin’ more than to make him pay for it. But the pain of losing a child...” Dutch gazed downward, “there ain’t nothing that can compare to it. Even a traitorous bastard like Arthur doesn’t deserve that.”

Still, Micah persisted. “Why? What does Isaac mean to you for you to spare him?”

Dutch brushed his hand off. “It ain’t about Isaac. It’s about Arthur. You know the history between us. How much we’ve been through. How long we’ve known each other.”

Micah raised his hands in a diplomatic manner. “Of course, Dutch. Of course. But... let me put it this way.” He leaned closer to the older man. “...Arthur’s your son. I mean, he may as well be. You raised him ever since he was a boy. You taught him to read, you taught him to shoot. You’re his father, Dutch. And yet, despite all that effort to keep him safe, and to keep him alive... he still left you when you needed him most. He left you alone.”

Dutch listened intently, causing Micah to reel in the line now that he had him hooked.

“So, I says we go find Isaac, kill him, and leave Arthur alone. He’ll share the same pain you felt, and he’ll know what it means to turn on our gang. Just like you wanted.”

The man let out a sharp sigh. “That ain’t happening.”

“Well, at least consider it. It ain’t just about the sentiment, after all, Dutch. There’s also the, uh... strategic aspect of it, if you will. So long as Isaac lives, we’re gonna have a helluva time tryin’ to reach Arthur. That boy’s a menace, and he’s nearly as rage-driven as you. He’s got to go.”

Dutch rubbed his chin in thought, appalled by the idea of taking Arthur’s child away from him, but admittedly conceding Micah’s point.

“I will... think about what you’ve said.”

Micah appeared pleased with that. “Thank you, Dutch. That’s all I ask.” He began to stroll away from him. “Trust me, boss... this is all for the good of the gang.”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #122

UPDATE 122: Kill the Endbringers

Last time Dinah had been taken to a hospital, and there was a very good chance Skitter would get everyone in trouble by letting her desires and ‘I know what’s good for you’ attitude cloud her judgment. Thankfully, she realized that before it was too late! Now what? Let’s find out.

Well looks like Dinah is convinced she won’t be accepted back into her home. Wow, the chapter has barely started and things are looking pretty rough already. Reminder Dinah is young. This kind of thoughts must hurt, wow. Skitter, trying to smooth things over, promises she will be received with arms wide open. Welcome home, Dinah!

“They will want you.  Just wait,” I said.  “They’ll welcome you with open arms, and there won’t even be a hint of fear.”

Oh dear. Don’t make promises that are out of your control, Skitter. Seriously, if this doesn’t go like she is saying it will...that’s going to scar Dinah so badly, and completely break her trust on Skitter. This is not good at all. I hope Dinah’s fears aren’t rooted in reality, I really do.

She even is worried because she looks pretty bad, consequences of Coil’s mistreatment and also the drugs. She thinks it’ll remind her family she has powers and freaks people out with predictions. Hmmmm...with some luck seeing her so...um, emaciated may invoke feelings of pity, perhaps some guilt if they’re aware Dinah feels so out of place. I almost would suggest she takes a look at the odds she will be welcomed back, but...but I fear they may not be favorable. Oh, geez...ignorance is bliss?

I’m not even human anymore.”

“You’re definitely human, Dinah.”

“Then why do they call us parahumans?  Doesn’t the ‘para’ part mean half?  Paraplegic, only half your body works.  Parahuman, half human.”

Hmm...is that really what ‘para’ means? I mean, paranormal sure doesn’t mean it’s half normal, it’s way above that. Paragliding is...um, it sure isn’t half gliding. Parasite doesn’t mean half a site, it’s all about adding an intruder into a body. The conclusion I’m getting is that ‘para’ is not really a reliable prefix. Thank you for coming to my linguistic discussion, was it too noticeable I have no idea what I’m talking about?

The next paragraph is Skitter making the point I was making, that ‘para’ doesn’t really mean ‘half’. She even brings up the word ‘paranormal’, like I did! Aaah, same wavelength! And she finishes her argument by saying her parents can’t judge her for stuff she didn’t choose. To that Iiii will have to disagree. They certainly could. They shouldn’t, but they could. Nothing to do but hope they don’t. I wonder if perhaps Skitter will get to talk to them before they see Dinah? I’m not entirely sure it’d be a good idea or not, but...perhaps she should consider that. Maybe.

The reason why Skitter is so aware of things like prefixes and semantics is because her mom used to be an English teacher. She has continued paying attention to that sort of things as a way to remember her. Honestly that’s pretty sweet of her. It’s...it must be nice to have something to remember your deceased loved ones by, like that. I’m glad. Speaking of family! She also mentions how she has a father, and how he is, well, not someone she has seen for a while because she puts him in danger.

As expected, the effects of Dinah’s withdrawal happen pretty quickly. Dinah is already heaving, with Skitter holding her hair. Damn, I hope she’ll be okay – but she says she won’t, the painkillers didn’t help at all. Afterwards, she says once again there’s no way her parents will accept her. You know, from how many times she’s saying it, I’m starting to fear she’s right. I want to think they will, but...with how much she has repeated it...I fear she’ll do something that’ll force the futures where they don’t accept her.

“And even if they do take me, it’ll be weird, because they can’t ignore my power now.  They pretended I didn’t have one.  Pretended I was an ordinary kid.  Pretended the headaches didn’t mean anything, like they pretended the heart disease wasn’t a thing.”

“Heart disease?  You?”

Dinah shook her head.  “Not me.”

She didn’t elaborate.  Related to her trigger event?

Oh. There’s that too. It’s going to be impossible to pretend things are fine and back to normal when Dinah was kidnapped because of her powers. I mean, measures will have to be taken so something like that doesn’t happen again, right? That’s got to include some sort of tinker technology, or guards, or something. Also, they’re a former mayor’s family. That could be used as a cover story of sorts for any noticeable security measures.

Reassuring Dinah this is the drug withdrawal talking, Skitter gets a comb and tries to make her look more presentable, so at least the parents don’t have a first sight of a young, haggard girl in the middle of the throes of withdrawal. Golly, I get shivers just from thinking about how Dinah will look. She’s feverish, she’s sweating like crazy...this won’t be pretty at all, obviously. But surely Dinah’s parents would look past all that and take her back, right? At least because seeing her like that will make them worry. Right?

...right?

Dinah asks Skitter to go knock on the door and bring her parents out. It’s time to face the music, let’s see how this particular subplot ends. Crossing fingers for a positive result! Skitter goes to the entrance and rings the bell, it doesn’t work. Instead she knocks on the door and lets a pair of flies go inside, she finds Dinah’s parents. The father takes a frying pan and gets ready, in case it’s an attack.

...

Skitter still has her costume on, doesn’t she? Cripes, what a thing to find when you open the door. No wonder the father closed the door right away! Damn! Still, I’d like to think that, if villains were to attack a residence, they wouldn’t be politely knocking on the door. Not that this fact is going to make the dad lower his guard, is it.

Of course, their first reaction is to think Skitter is trying to extort them – a reasonable thought, given she’s a villain and the first thing she says is that she has their daughter! Well, she said she brought Dinah, but still. Skitter hurries to make things clear, and doesn’t mince any words. Better that way, probably. Better for them to be aware of what Dinah is going through, than seeing her sorry state and then fall into more despair. I mean, the blow will be hard, but it’s...easier when you’re aware of what’s coming, no?

...

Gosh, that must be a nightmare for any parent.

“She has abilities, then?” the dad asked.

Oh. They didn’t know? If they didn’t, then that really adds to Dinah’s fears, then. Would they accept her, even though she has a power? Honestly, I had interpreted it all as the parents trying hard to pretend she didn’t, but...there’s really no point to feign ignorance here. Even if Skitter is a villain, she already has Dinah in her clutches.

Even though Dinah is still afraid, she accepts Skitter’s help and steps out of the car, being brought towards her family. Contrary to what Dinah was predicting – and much to my relief – her parents don’t hesitate to approach. The mother immediately hugs her, the father comes behind just a second later, which I’m sure was more out of caution towards Skitter than because of anything from Dinah. There we go! A family reunited, and there doesn’t seem to be even a bit of trouble brewing. Times will be hard for them, given Dinah’s withdrawal, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. I hope.

The father even thanks Skitter! Which she tries not to acknowledge. The guilt of having been indirectly responsible for the kidnapping in the first place, you see. There’s also something else, something that’s somewhat selfish, but perfectly understandable, in my opinion:

I wasn’t sure I felt good about that.  I’d gotten this far by making the most out of every resource I had available, and by being smart about things.  This was throwing away a resource, tying my own hands.  The decision felt dumb, even as I knew it was the right thing to do.

I know, right? It’d have been so tempting to try to convince Dinah to stay and give advice about how to fight the end of the world. Dinah herself saw that in the cards, so to say. If Dinah hadn’t said it, I think Skitter would have kept her, justifying that with how it was to prevent the end of the world. She’d have promised herself that she’d return Dinah once the end of the world was averted, even if that took two years, no? I don’t know what the rest of the Undersiders would have said, but I doubt they’d have tried to return Dinah to the family. All in all, Skitter has done the right thing, even though it may feel dumb right now.

With nothing else to do there, Skitter asks the driver to get going. She also finds two pieces of paper, probably left by Dinah. I hope they’re not meant to be private, because Skitter will have to ask someone else to read those for her. Perhaps they’re little predictions about odds? Possibly about the end of the world?

Scene cut!

Heeeere’s the team! The team and also Ballistic, who isn’t part of the Undersiders, but personally I’m not discarding he may join in some manner. The situation kind of demands it. Parian is also here.

I turned to Parian.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Tattletale got in touch.  I… I apparently missed a lot.”

“You’re up for this?”

“No.  But I want to know what’s going on, in case it affects my territory.”

Oh dear! I’m pretty sure it involves the entirety of Brockton Bay. Welcome to the Noelle situation, Parian, we’re very screwed right now. There’s only one hour and forty minutes until dawn, and then it’s showtime. Probably.

There’s been one sighting of Noelle. What’s she doing, I really have to wonder. Is she just wandering around aimlessly? Either way, Parian makes a wiener dog for everyone to ride, which is simply hilarious. Here comes the cavalry, riding a wiener dog! Hah! Awesome.

“This is so lame,” Imp said.  “How are you supposed to build a decent rep if you’re caught riding a wiener dog?”

Aw, come on, Imp, it’s great! Don’t be like that.

There’s some nice banter that ends in Imp having to settle for the plush wiener dog, while Skitter rides on Bentley with Heckpuppy. Along the way, Tattletale asks if everyone is okay with she taking charge, and they all ask Ballistic for an assessment of how dangerous Noelle is. Give the deets, pal!

“It’s why I’m here.  Consider Noelle a triple threat,” he said.  “She’s strong, she’s got nothing to hold her back, now, and she’s smart.”

She’s a natural tactician, he says. I’m going to have to doubt that a little, not because I doubt Noelle isn’t smart, or able to come up with plans. I’m doubting it because, well, she was in a gaming team. That’s completely different to something like this. Skills usable there may not transfer to other things. Still, it’d be bad to underestimate Noelle. It has been said a lot about how she’s very dangerous, I’m sure she’ll be a genuine threat.

Whooops, Ballistic is sitting out of the fight. So is Parian, but that one isn’t really terribly surprising, Parian has nothing to do with any of this beyond protecting her territory. The reason why Ballistic is sitting out is because he’s sure Noelle will use him against them somehow. That’s...a reasonable concern, really. It can happen.

...is Skitter seriously underestimating Noelle right now? Come on, you can’t be serious. Ballistic says the reason why Noelle was fooled with all the lies she was told was because she trusted Trickster blindly. Even though he got her into this situation in the first place, technically? I guess that, although she blamed him, she saw him as the only one who could help her. He being the only one visiting her must also be a factor, I’m sure.

“He became team leader more because he’s fast at thinking on his feet than because he’s good at making the right call.  He took it on himself to make a whole lot of wrong calls.  I let a lot of that slide because he used to be a friend.  And maybe because they weren’t blatantly wrong.  Just a little wrong, a little disagreeable.  But at some point every call was a disagreeable call and every word out of his mouth became a white lie.  He started lying to us for what he saw as our own good.  Not Noelle with her delicate state, but us.”

I read earlier Noelle was good at being intuitive and making moves because she read the situation well. This paragraph here makes it sound like they named Francis the team leader because he was the closest they got in terms of skill.

Speaking of Trickster! He may make things much worse, or he may be of help, depending on if he’ll help them or not. Personally I think he won’t help. Tattletale just said his focus would always be on Noelle and himself. No way he’s going to do a thing if it’ll hurt Noelle, even if it’s to save Brockton Bay. What does he care, if this isn’t even his world?

There’s some briefing about what Noelle can do, I don’t really see anything we don’t already know. What’s important to remark here, at least the way Ballistic says it, is that they have to get this all done before Noelle makes clones. Parian tries to say those clones are people, Ballistic quite reasonably says they’re not. And yeah, they’re not. The way those Cody clones were acting...yeah, I doubt they could be considered people. Oh boy, there’ll totally be some clones going on, right? I bet some if not all of the Undersiders will have to face clones of themselves.

As a general rule I still don’t like clones, but...honestly, the way Worm is doing it, it seems like it could be interesting to read! Neato!

The regeneration will be somewhat troublesome, especially since it’ll make it much harder to kill her. Skitter right away says she doesn’t want to do that unless there’s no other choice. Hum.

Ballistic turned my way, and he had a funny tone in his voice as he asked, “How do you think you’re going to handle this?”

“Containment,” I said.  “If I get enough spiders together, I could try to surround her in web.”

Hum. You know, I’m not sure containing her will be a terribly good idea. She has gotten stronger; the kind of long-term containment she’d need would have to be carefully planned in order to work. She can’t just be shunted into the Birdcage, after all! And anything can happen in the time it takes to finish a vault or something to contain her. It’s way too dangerous, way too risky. I’m not sure it’s worth it. I hate to admit it, but...maybe lethal force has to be considered? Because Noelle is pretty close to being too dangerous to not subdue lethally anytime soon.

I mean, personally I think it’s not impossible the characters will figure a way to defeat Noelle without killing her, but...given the situation...I admit lethal force is more and more like a necessity here. Oh well! Skitter has been really resourceful in the past, it’s not really impossible she’ll figure something out!

Still, Tattletale accuses Ballistic of having no consideration towards Noelle because he’s suggesting to kill her, and needless to say, Ballistic didn’t like that at all. Geez, Tattletale. That could have been handled waaaay more tactfully. I can’t blame Ballistic for deciding to leave right away, he doesn’t even wait for the sausage dog to stop moving before he gets off. Welp! There gooooo all the chances of Ballistic joining the Undersiders. No way it’s happening now, or at least it’s much less likely.

Then again...maybe I’m being too callous about Noelle? I just think she is a huge danger, given everything that’s been shown. It’s always possible I’m just taking it waaaay too callously. After all, it’s way easier to make these calls when they’re fictional characters in a story.

In what’s another possibly bad move, they try to convince Parian to fight. She refuses, asking what she can do to protect her territory. She’s not interested in dealing with Noelle.

“I really don’t think we have a choice.  You fought Leviathan,” I said.

Parian shook her head, “I almost wish I didn’t.  I only did it because I promised myself when I was a kid, when I first learned about the Endbringers, that I would fight them if I ever got powers.  That’s why I did it, because I didn’t want to betray the kid version of myself.”

“Wouldn’t your child-self want you to do this?”  I asked.

“I don’t know.  But I didn’t make any promises to myself about this.”

Honestly I can’t blame her for not wanting to get involved in that. Leviathan is an Endbringer who threatens to destroy so much of the world. Its name makes everyone tremble in fear. Noelle is...well, for now, she is more of a domestic affair for the Undersiders. I don’t discard the possibility Parian will have to fight at some point, but right now? I think it’s fair she doesn’t join the fight.

Not really any time to discuss it further, because they encounter the heroes. They’re right over there. Hi! Guys, there’s a pseudoEndbringer about to destroy the city! It’s another day in Brockton Bay – and I’m so making that the slogan for Worm: It’s Another Day in Brockton Bay.

Miss Militia is here, and her immediate reaction is to aim at them with a rifle. How welcoming. There’s some wreckage here, and Miss Militia wants to know if the Undersiders had anything to do with it. Skitter very truthfully replies they were indirectly responsible, which...is that really the best thing to be saying?

...maybe, because it’d be coming out at some point, anyway.

Miss Militia’s reasoning is that there are reports that fit with what the Undersiders have done in the past, and a hero has been kidnapped. Huh. Noelle is already making her move, it seems! How screwed are we?

“Vista,” I finished Miss Militia’s thought.  “You’re talking about Vista.”

Huh. That so? That’s one versatile combatant out of the fight, indeed. I remember Skitter had mentioned earlier that they should ask the heroes’ help so they could bring containment foam and also have Vista use her powers to help. That’s going to throw a wrench into Skitter’s hopes for containment. Right now, though, the priority is explaining to the heroes they didn’t do this...directly, and that Noelle is a huge threat. That shouldn’t be hard to convince, right? I hope, at least. Time to take a look!

...or not. It’s an interlude. Well, I guess that was a time for a cliffhanger, but it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to read, I admit. I wanted more of the current situation. I hope this interlude will be worthwhile, because...yeah, I wish I could skip it to continue with the story. But hey, let’s tackle it. Onwards!

Kevin Norton, hm...the name doesn’t sound familiar. Then again, it’s likely it has been a while since I read it, so it’s not impossible I just don’t remember him. Hell, it’s possible a Norton was already shown and this is a relative. Who could this man be? He has a dog, too.

“I’ve saved millions of lives.  Billions.”

Another hand signal bidding another small woof of agreement.

He’s making some hefty claims, too. I won’t be surprised if he’s telling the truth, though. A lot can happen in Worm. Who knows, maybe he singlehandedly prevented a widespread tragedy, by foreseeing it or something. Who knows.

Nobody’s paying Kevin Norton any heed. Some parts of his clothing are pretty much falling apart. Kevin talks to the dog he’s with, saying he’s not getting much money and calling himself ‘the most powerful man in the world’ when asking for money. There’s not really much success here, so instead he decides to give the vital backstory info for the reader’s benefit. Just who are you, Mr. Kevin Norton?

Seems like he was in this area ages ago, and so much has changed since then. Kevin reminisces, remembering people who treated him well, and hopes they’re okay. Meanwhile, he gets some comfort for himself by saying he has a lot of responsibilities and he hasn’t shirked them – in fact, he makes it sound like the mere thought of having left them aside is the worst thing that could ever happen.

Also, he’s very alone. Nobody to support him, it seems. As if the world wants to make things a little worse for him, it starts raining.

Seems to me Kevin has regrets. There sure is a lot of talk about courage and cowardice here. Perhaps it’s related to he being the most powerful man in the world, according to himself? Maybe if he had been a little braver, he wouldn’t be in that position – like being the most powerful man in the world ruined his life. It’s one of those ironic things so popular in fiction, no? I wonder what’d be Mr. Wildbow’s take on it.

A woman gives Kevin ten pounds. So this is England, most likely. Quite a distance from Brockton Bay. Kevin braces himself for the judgmental scolding people who give him a lot of money usually give, and the woman doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, she makes conversation, praising the dog and asking why it’s called Duke. Kevin brings up once again he’s the most powerful man in the world. Boy, he’s fixated on that.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Hm?” he perked up, withdrawing his hand.

“You had a look on your face.”

“Just wondering when the last time I had contact with another person was.  Might have been a few years ago.  Pastor gave me a hug as I left his shelter.”

“That sounds so lonely, Kevin.  Years without human contact?”

“Not so lonely.  I’ve got one friend,” he said, scratching Duke’s head.

Lisette nodded.

“But you shouldn’t forget.  The little stuff.  Even a handshake?  That’s something special.  Meaningful.  Value it, even if you get it every day.”

A lonely existence with many, many years without contact. Meaningful contact that wasn’t, say, the brush of fingertips when giving money. Makes me wonder what kind of life Kevin used to have before. So much melancholy in his tone, that’s for sure.

Kevin asks the woman – Lisette, is her name – to walk with him while he talks about himself. While the woman comes with him after some hesitation, she keeps her distance because hey, no harm in being cautious. Kevin starts talking. The beginning of his problems happened when he got into a relationship with a woman who in the end wasn’t really the right one for him, but he doesn’t blame her for his trouble. In the end, Kevin realized he’s gay. Still, that wasn’t the cause for the destruction of his relationship, anyway. It turned abusive in pretty much all ways possible, and Kevin left after a while. Since then he’s been living on the streets.

The place he has taken Lisette to is where he slept first. A bit of nostalgia there – I guess...we all look to our beginnings, huh.

Lisette is asked to hold Duke’s leash for a moment while Kevin got to the water’s edge, splashing some on his face. The situation takes a turn for the unexpected when suddenly there’s a golden man floating there. Huh. Parahuman, no doubt. Duke seems a bit...hm, ears flat against the head is a sign of apprehension, right? And Lisette is speechless.

You know, unless something changed very drastically in Worm and I don’t recall/didn’t notice, there’s only one golden guy floating around untouched by debris and dirt. Is this Scion? Did Scion just...appear out of nowhere to hang out here?

“Hello old friend,” Kevin said.

The only answer was the pouring rain.  The golden man didn’t speak.

“Wondered if I would see you here,” Kevin continued.  “Been a long time.  I’d nearly convinced myself I’d imagined you.  That old dog over there, he wasn’t even born when I left, and he’s on his last legs now.  Twelve years old.”

Apparently he did, and it’s not the first time. Kevin had met him before, in this same place. Probably after leaving that abusive woman. Kevin nonchalantly returns to Lisette, and reveals Scion wasn’t ever that guy’s name. An alias, really, like all parahumans have.

This here is the reason why Kevin is the most powerful man in the world. Oh, please give more details! I’m actually intrigued by that. What’s up?

So, looks like I was right in that he met Scion shortly after he fled, encountering him and finding out Scion is sad – even if golden man’s face never changes, he’s sad in the inside, and has always been. Kevin hadn’t liked that and went to shout at him for being more miserable than Kevin was back then. Since Kevin wasn’t instantly vaporized with a laser beam back then, I guess Scion didn’t take offense to that.

In a fit of frustration, Kevin shouted at Scion why doesn’t he go and help someone. Why doesn’t he do something useful with his powers like save people or something. I guess he didn’t use to do that before, hm. And so, since then, Scion has been the hero everyone knows...because that’s all Scion has, it seems. He’s empty, according to Kevin. Saving people is...pretty much all he has. So that’s why Kevin says he has saved billions – he gave Scion the push to go be a hero, and therefore countless lives have been saved. Good thing it was Kevin who found him, then. If Scion was as easily influenced as Kevin is making it sound, then someone coming and telling him ‘hey, go commit crimes’ could have happened too, and things would be so much different right now. Maybe there’s an alternate universe fanfic with such a premise, it could be interesting to write and/or read.

According to Kevin, Scion understands, he just...doesn’t say a thing or react much or even does anything. He marches to the beat of his own drum, except when Kevin gets his hands in the way and makes him stop the beat for a second.

“It’s almost like he’s autistic,” Lisette said.

“How’s that?”  Kevin asked.

“Too connected,” Lisette said.  “Too much in the way of stimuli, drowning everything out.”

“Enhanced hearing, hearing the whole city at once?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe he senses things we don’t,” she said.  “The most powerful person in the world, and looking at him now, he’s like a child.”

Huh. Interesting thought. I wonder if that’s what’s going on. Sensing too much at once, and willfully having to cut the connections to things – or perhaps even unconsciously as some sort of protection mechanism for his psyche. Could be, no? If so, it’s a bit of a miracle Kevin got through to him at all. Hmmm...lucky, that was.

“Why?  Why avoid him?”

Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the golden man.  “He scares me.  He chose me to listen to, of all people.  I’m the most powerful person in the world, just because of that.  Because I can tell the strongest, most capable man in the world what to do.”

Hmmmm...yeah, that sounds like it can be kind of unnerving. Scion is...a mystery. His origins are unknown, all that’s known is his actions, and those are thanks to Kevin. Kevin’s nudging is what has built Scion, pretty much.

At this point I just have to wonder if maybe there’s something up with Kevin and he doesn’t know it. I mean...there’s always the possibility Kevin is being deceitful in some way, but...I don’t know, something about him seems kind of sincere. I don’t think he’s hiding something. Why is Scion listening to him, of all people? There has to be a reason, no?

Still, that’s...such a scary thought. Because since Scion doesn’t even give any indication what he’s thinking, or how he’s interpreting things, if Kevin says a wrong word some bad stuff could happen, and I think Kevin is well aware of that. Honestly, anyone would be terrified. I know I would.

It seems Scion returned every once in a while just to listen to Kevin talk. Kevin just...tended to oblige, not really minding it much, until one night Kevin said something. Something that somehow got a reaction from Scion, and given how it was established he doesn’t bother reacting to anything, that’s very significant. Kevin doesn’t say what it is, but later Scion said it and the entire world latched onto it. That scared Kevin to no end. Okay, what was it? No way this intermission won’t say it! With all that’s been said about it, Mr. Wildbow just has to, no? I want to know!

“What did you say, if the word wasn’t Scion?” Lisette asked.

Ah, I see. So, I don’t really remember the details about Scion’s one and only word, but I faintly recall it was, well, ‘Scion’, and that’s why they’re calling him that. It seems Kevin said something and Scion latched onto it, but it actually was a word similar to that one.

Shenanigans ensue when it’s revealed it was actually Xion, because Kevin is a huge Kingdom Hearts fan and wanted to share some theories he had been building.

Okay, no, hah! Just joking. That’s just what came to mind when trying to think of something similar to ‘Scion’. I got nothing, I admit. Can’t think of a word.

“Only realized later.  Was talking about home, religion and family.  Talking about a memory from my childhood.  Don’t even remember it that well, now.  But the word he paid attention to was Zion.”

“That’s Hebrew, isn’t it?”

I went to search ‘Zion’ in Google, of course. The first result is Zion, a reggaeton singer, but unless Scion here is about to bust out some urban rhythm, that can’t be it. The next result sounds more like it:

Zion (Hebrew: צִיּוֹן‎ Ṣîyōn, LXX Σιών, also variously transliterated Sion, Tzion, Tsion, Tsiyyon) is a placename in the Hebrew Bible used as a synonym for Jerusalem as well as for the Land of Israel as a whole (see Names of Jerusalem).

That’s from Wikipedia, of course. So, as I see it, maybe it can be a hint about an origin. Nothing indicates Scion popped up into existence twenty years ago or whenever Scion first appeared floating in the air, maybe he has existed for way longer than that and heard that word before. Could be a hint about origins? Hm...

The other possibility is that it’s not so much something related to him, instead it’s something he’s familiar with. Or maybe he’s searching for it. I don’t know. Something’s up with that word, that’s all that’s plainly obvious. Doesn’t seem Kevin here has any ideas, either.

The reason why Kevin came here was to talk to Scion, and make a request. Seems that Kevin once told Scion to go fight the Endbringers, but he fears he wasn’t specific enough, that maybe he should have said to kill them so they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. That because of that, Scion just...wasn’t bothering to try all he could to kill them, and that because of his bad choice of words, a lot of people have died. Boy that’s terrifying. It’s pretty much what I had said earlier. Part of me almost hopes this doesn’t work, if only so Kevin doesn’t blame himself for all the death and destruction.

Kevin is close to death. He came here to get his affairs in order, which he’s doing by telling Scion that about the Endbringers, and also by telling him to come to Lisette here if he ever needs anything.

Kevin sighed.  “I’m here to get my affairs in order, and you’re most important after Duke.  I want you to keep doing what you were doing.  Help people.  Try to communicate with the good guys more.  I told you to do that before and you didn’t listen, but you should.  And if there’s a problem, if you need someone to listen to, someone to visit from time to time, look for this young lady.  Lisette.  Because she’s good people.  She’s a better person than I am.  Braver.  Has to be braver, if she’s stopping to talk to a homeless motherfucker like me, following him someplace.”

Wow. That’s got to be pretty awful for Lisette. Here, Lisette, you deal with the superpowered guy who doesn’t even give any indication he wants to listen to you. Honestly, it’s a bit of a curse, given how much grief that brought Kevin, and how Lisette, who is privy to why exactly it made Kevin so antsy, will have to undergo it too. It sucks for her, honestly. Goodness gracious.

I’m not sure if Scion will come to her or not, but...what’s done is done, no? Guess she...well...will have to deal with it, if he does come. I know it’s not like Kevin could have asked her permission because really, who’d say yes? But still, wow, that’s rough for Lisette.

Of course, Lisette seems kind of panicked about this. With good reason!

Kevin didn’t turn around or stop walking as he raised his voice to respond over the sound of the pouring rain.  “Good deal, isn’t it?  Ten pounds to become the most powerful person in the world.”

Methinks she may be regretting giving those ten pounds, honestly. That’s pretty rough.

That’s where the interlude ends. I see the tags here, where the character names usually are written, only has ‘Scion’. I guess that means Lisette won’t appear anymore, which is...understandable, honestly. What are the odds she goes to hang out in Brockton Bay for no reason at all? As I see it, it’s possible she’ll appear in a future interlude, but that’s it. I hope she’ll be okay, even if she was given this burden to deal with.

So, the intermission was...it was interesting. Somehow, although half of the time I’m annoyed by intermissions, Mr. Wildbow always manages to deliver. I can’t remember an interlude I ended dissatisfied with. I guess next time the story continues! But for now, this update is over.

[superlivezuk]

Want To Develop Yourself? What You Need To Know

Being able to identify the reasons behind why you are looking to better yourself and boost your own personal development growth is important for your success. If you can apply the information, tips, and suggestions outlined in this article to the reasons why you are looking to better yourself, you will be able to move forward with your personal development goals.

Read some good books about personal development. You could well derive some great, life-changing ideas from the right books in the field. Books on the topic of personal development can be poorly written. To avoid this, make sure you read books that have been reviewed well.

Believe it or not being too nice to others often means not being nice enough to yourself. Part of personal development is fulfilling the obligation to self and this cannot always be accomplished when you are at the beck and call of a dozen individuals. You need to put yourself at the top of your list of priorities, and then tend to others.

When you have a vision that you want to achieve, don't get burnout along the way. Don't overwork yourself or your employees trying so hard to achieve it. Like with anything else, you need to take regular breaks to unwind, relax, and recharge. If you get burned out, your vision may not get finished or may even cease to exist.

A big contributor to developing yourself personally can be networking with people in your industry. Try attending a career fair to talk with employers, and seize the training opportunities your current place of work provides. This builds relationship skills and can help you land a future job you're interested in.

Enlist the help of a homeopathic remedy for situational upsets. A relationship breakup or death of a loved one can send your emotions into a tail-spin. This sometimes results in a depressive response, called situational depression. A homeopathic remedy, Ignatia amara, is derived from the Saint Ignatiur bean and helps dissolve feelings of grief or hysteria.

Try consuming less alcohol in your diet. Alcohol can keep you from sleeping deeply and can really impair your thinking. It can also make you more tired during the day if you had a drink the night before. Try to avoid alcohol consumption before bed, and if you must drink, do it during the day, but at a moderate level.

Sometimes getting help is something beyond ourselves. In cases like this it would behoove you to visit a licensed healthcare professional, like a psychologist. Through years of expereince they have learned to help people just like yourself cope with difficult situations. Do not think you can solve it all on your own, see a psychologist.

Our brains absorb music deeply and remember it for a long time. If you are feeling depressed or sad, don't listen to nihilistic, angry music. Choose happy, upbeat music or soaring music that opens your heart and lifts your soul. Music has tremendous power. Choose it wisely to empower yourself to live your happiest and most fulfilling life.

One of the hardest tips to swallow is to accept blame. Take the responsibility for everything that goes wrong in your day-to-day life. Don't make excuses, just own the moment. It is you that has paved the way to this moment and it is important to be in the driver's seat, no matter the reason. With this, you will gain the respect of your friends, family and peers and open the door to some enormous personal growth.

Identify areas for improvement. When you take the time to analyze areas in your life that are within your control and need improving, you acknowledge that you are not perfect, and you give yourself permission to change. It also helps to write down what you want to change and keep it in a place where you can't help but often see it.

When you've made a mistake, think of what you might tell your child or your best friend if they had done the same thing. Many times people can be tougher on themselves than anyone else when it isn't necessary. Be as gentle with yourself as you are with others when they make mistakes, and you'll feel better about yourself.

Try putting yourself on the backburner for a while and see what you can do to help someone else. When you put the focus on helping others and satisfying others' needs, you get a feeling of enrichment that is difficult to explain. You become happier when you solve other people's problems, instead of waiting around for someone to solve yours.

Stay focused. It's easy to get distracted from goals by life events and circumstances, but if you stay focused on your goal, you will reach your goal no matter what. So many people let their dreams fall by the wayside. Don't let that happen to you. Keep your focus at all costs.

A great tip for developing yourself is to avoid solely using your memory. You can do this by being analytical with your thoughts. You must always digest the things that are in your brain. Have wisdom inside your knowledge. This is because without wisdom, you cannot have proper knowledge.

In summation, personal development stems from the identification of the reasons why you are looking to better yourself. If you can identify why you want to grow as an individual, and apply the tips and suggestions outlined in this article, you can be on your way to personal growth now and in the future.

To find out more click below

https://superliving.co.uk/blog/positive-psychology-how-to-study-happiness/

[bigsnzstanacct]

Hayfever Story (sneezing + nose blowing)

I... don’t know what you all will think of this one. This is part one of two, though I’m not entirely certain how part two should go. This one is mostly setup but there’s plenty of sneezing at the top. Honestly it is almost all sneeze talk or description. The sneezer is described as male, but the narrator’s gender is left ambiguous: imagine whatever excites you the most.

This is unedited, obviously, but I may go through and take another pass at it at some point.

—-

I could hear him down the block.

“AAAHHHHCCHHH-HHOOOOOOO!!” The bellow was dimmed somewhat by distance and the walls between us, but I still heard it, clear as day. He’d be winding up for another one now, frozen in place, captive to his big, protruding proboscis. The handkerchief clutched in two hands, spread wide as his head tipped back and back and back until his shoulder got into it, his wide nostrils flaring absurdly as he gasped... and gasped... and gasped... until...

“EEEEEEAAAYYYYYATTCCHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Even louder this time! He would have delivered it right into the handkerchief, so that he could transition, seamlessly, fluidly, almost... professionally into the window rattling roar of his great lawnmower honk of a nose blow, sonorous as a trombone, surely so because of the unusual architecture of his cavernous nostrils, which provided plenty of room for the great crashing blow to echo and resound and build in noise. The first great two-nostril honk taken care of, he’d press one nostril shut and blow his trumpet blast out the other, then switch sides, in a sort of aftershock to the first great blow. I could barely even hear them through the walls. But I knew after that would come the last big blow. First, an enormous lung-swelling long smooth inward gasp of air, his shoulders rising, rib cage expanding to let in more and more and more air. Then, a silent moment of preparation, practically like a prayer, his eyes scrunching shut, face flying into the waiting hankie and then...

The real foghorn, a nasal blast that dwarfed his sneeze in volume. His “big blows” as we called them existed less to expel moisture or whatever else might be lurking in his nasal passages, and more to cleanse the terrible itch with the sheer sound of it, as though by making his whole sinuses vibrate with the sonorous force of the blow, he could chase that twinging tickle into every nook and cranny of his nose, and in doing so scratch the itch into submission.

He’d be walking again now. Would there be another sneeze before he arrived at the door, would he in fact reach the door even as the ragweed and grass pollen and all the terrible floral irritations of spring reignited that desperate desire in him, left the poor exhausted man with no choice but to unleash another:

“HEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHSSHHH-OOOOOOOOO!!!” This was an angry sneeze. The sneeze of a man exhausted by his nose and a nose exhausted by the itch. It was the sort of sneeze he released only when he at last forgot about the noise and disruption his nose could cause—did cause, all throughout hayfever season—and could think only of finally relieving the terrible itch. I swung the door open, and was greeted by the sight, no longer in my imagination but in the flesh, of his reddened, dripping nose, his tired, sagging eyes—oh it was so obvious he was in the grips of an absolutely miserable allergy attack, and I could only reach out to him, press him into a tight embrace, even as, over my shoulder, he spread it out—oh, not a handkerchief at all, but one of those big red bandanas he used when his poor nose wore him out, when even his hankies seemed too small and too fragile to stand up to the ferocity of his allergic response. I barely noticed before he crushed his nose into his hand and, uncontrollably, right next to my ear blasted out a honk that I swear nearly made my go deaf.

Of course, if that were going to happen, it would have long since happened by now.

“Oh hodey...” he said, sniffing, as he straightened up. “Hodey I’b so sorry bud by dose...”

“Shhh, shhh,” I cooed at him, guiding him into the living room and down onto the sofa. “It’s fine, darling, I understand. Your hayfever...”

“Id’s terrible!” He announced, as though every centimeter of his face was not making the announcement for him, from the downturn of his lips to his constantly working, practically buzzing nose. “Wud sec godda blow...”

He said this with banal literalness—he was going to blow his nose. And yet I couldn’t help but think that “gonna blow” seemed accurate for any and everything pertaining to his nose, which resembled nothing so much as his personal Vesuvius, a volcano always on the edge of an eruption.

He held forth with a blow that put the others to shame, or perhaps that was just me being able to appreciate it properly now, neither muffled by walls nor so all-consumingly close that its relative volume was masked. De-stuffed a bit by the blow, he continued: “I had to sneeze so badly all day, darling, you wouldn’t believe it. I hate hayfever!” He said it with conviction, so much so that I couldn’t help but hate it too, even if his hayfever, this particular specimen, also thrilled me. “I don’t know how I got any work done, always having to duck into the bathroom to... t-tuhhh... huuuhhh.... HUUUUUHHHH... HUUUUUAAAAASSSHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“To do that?”

“Mm.” He replied, congested again. Our flow of conversation ebbed for the moment, making way for his great trumpeting blows, always the same pattern: a great two nostril honk, a series of cleansing blows of each nostril individually, alternately, and then a final great tickle-chasing honk. Although this time even that pattern didn’t seem to be enough. “Cad you ged me adother h-hadker... hadker... hehhHH... AAAASSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!”

He didn’t have to tell me twice, though as I heard the thumping on our ceiling from our neighbor above, already fed up with his nasal exuberance, I couldn’t help but hope, for the sake of peace in our little block of apartments if nothing else, that the next cleansing blow managed to clear out some of that infernal pollen and ease his allergies some.

Although, as he heard him snuffling and sniffing, surely hunting for any dry spot left on the great bandana, I didn’t hold out much hope.

—

He’d really had a terrible hayfever day, though it did calm at least somewhat after he’d been home for a while, with our humidifier and air filters all around. He explained that he’d had to sneeze all day at work, constantly ducking into the toilets to let one loose, fighting not to blast one of his rather disruptive and distinctive sneezes in the open office. He’d sworn he wouldn’t be known primarily by his nose, not at this workplace, unlike many of his others. Even then, he hadn’t felt like he could blow his nose, not fully, not properly, even in the toilets. On the bus home, he’d fought not to explode but his hayfever was just unbearable and before he knew it he was belting out sneeze after sneeze, so loud in the enclosed space he was afraid he’d startle the driver or something. The other passengers glaring daggers at him didn’t help. So he’d walked a good deal of the way home, which only succeeded in allowing his big nose to suck up even more allergens, to drive him even crazier with the urge to blow them all out.

By that evening, his nose had largely calmed down, its outbursts coming once or twice an hour rather than every few minutes. I gave him the tea that always helped, wiped his face with a warm cloth, did my best to soothe the allergic beast inside him, the little demon of nasal irritation that took up residence in his nose—a spacious abode—that tormented him and took over him body til his whole body used all its force to exorcize the demon in a blasting sneeze or trumpeting blow. There was something nice about it, the feeling that it was we two in a battle against his hayfever. Sure, it was him on the front lines, cajoling and managing and denying and satiating his itchy nose and its allergic demands. But I was there too, supporting and assisting and fetching bandanas and grabbing things out of his hands when a sudden blinding urge to sneeze robbed him of every other thought. I liked helping him in that way. It was plain to see those great galumphing sneezes took it out of the poor man. And though he always seemed pleased, satisfied after a good strong session of blowing, that too must have required energy. He’d tried to teach me on more than one occasion, when I caught bad colds, how to blow my nose as thoroughly and authoritatively as he did. I’d gotten quite a bit better—no longer the sniffer and snuffler I was when we met—but still, I could never quite manage the sheer ferocity of his nose blowing, let alone the power, let alone the volume. He was in another category for that.

Of course, that presented its problems. And there was another area in which I could help, in which it was I instead of him on the front lines of battle: the neighbors.

Now we’d been lucky enough to escape complaints in many if not most of the places we lived, though surely his nasal exertions were audible through the walls. And to his credit, most of the year, with the exception of lazy afternoons where gave his nose free reign and let his great bellowing sneezes rip as they pleased, he kept his nose to.... well not quite a polite acceptable volume, but at least a dull roar during quieter hours. But this was our second hayfever season in this apartment. And when hayfever season strikes that nose of his, all bets are off. I thought we’d come to blows with at least two of our neighbors by the end of the season, but although we narrowly avoided that, we did have to speak to the apartment management about noise complaints. They couldn’t, of course, kick us out of our apartment over hayfever. But to keep the peace, we agreed to try our very best to keep the noise down late at night, even during hayfever season. His nose had free reign until ten pm. It would be cruel to expect anything else. But his hayfever was too severe to let him sleep sometimes. I’d been awakened, more times than I could count, with a great bellowing sneeze, a desperate, whispered apology and then a trumpeting nose blow. Half-asleep, it never occurred to him to tamp down the violence... all he could think of was chasing away the terrible itch.

So, in those moments where he awoke at night, itchy and sneezy and desperate, it fell to me. Then I took the front lines in the battle against his allergies, or at least the battle to avoid coming to blows with Mr and Mrs Cadwallader upstairs.

I suspected, from the moment I heard him coming down the way to our apartment, that tonight would end up being just such a night. So I’d taken the bandana he normally hid under his pillow and hid it under mine. If he were about to sneeze, even in half-asleep stupor, he’d reach for that, and so it was that I was awakened at 2am, not by his nose, but by his mouth:

“—Quickly!! I n-need to snehhh... sneeze!”

[sunstarjournal]

The Truth Behind Secret Societies

The Truth Behind Secret Societies

What You Need to Know

We’ve all seen the movies where the young and privileged get an invitation to follow in their families’ footsteps to join a secret society. As they forge ahead, they are showered with lavish gifts and never-ending opportunities for fame and fortune. Without a doubt, these Hollywood productions have created a certain mystery and allure surrounding the idea of what a secret society is—from collegiate institutions to treasure hunting—that have most of us pondering the opportunity and what the lifestyle of these privileged few must be like. The fact of the matter is, very few people will ever receive an invitation to any one of these organizations and if you were one of the few invited, are you clear as to the organization’s objectives?

Before we can dive into the gritty details of what to look for in a valid society, we must first ask ourselves what are the differences between secret societies and private organizations? A private organization can vary from local clubs to exclusive institutions looking to make an impact or to turn a profit. Private organizations can also vary in their size and scope of members, aims, goals, and initiatives both as an overall organization and within the organization itself. Likewise, secret societies have set agendas and values across the organization, though not all agendas are for the betterment of mankind. Some societies operate on the fringes of population control, political upheaval, and plans to disrupt the lives of others, lending a negative bias toward secret societies in general. Though negative secret societies exist, there are countless others whose sole purpose is making a positive impact on the world.

It’s important to note that most legitimate, altruistic secret societies are rarely as secret as they once were and operate simply as a private organization. Although these groups hold their inner workings, teachings, and processes as private within the organization, they often have ways for potential candidates to evaluate their mission and objectives. The existence of these organizations have become well known to the public and may even have a website or Wikipedia page.

These private organizations have recently allowed outsiders to see what they stand for and draw their own conclusions. The existence of these values is of paramount importance to the potential inductee.

Beyond the existence of resources expounding the beneficent aims of the organization, there are other ways to determine the validity of these private groups. Below, you will find twelve ways to evaluate these organizations and will help you identify which ones are legitimate and for the betterment of mankind.

1.  Mission and Objectives Are Available to the Public

All valid secret societies or private groups operate under the umbrella of their primary mission or objective. What is the members’ ultimate goal in joining this institution? The existence of a publicly available objective lends credence to their actions behind the scenes, even though they may not provide their proprietary processes for accomplishing this goal. It only stands to benefit the organization if like-minded individuals can use this information to confirm their own interest in the cause. If the organization provides no information on their primary objectives before joining, then they are likely operating in the shadows for a reason. Publicly stating their goals is the first step in determining whether an organization is truly out to make a difference or only a hoax to lure in unsuspecting members.

2.  Motivation Is Clear

Once the organization has passed the test of their public mission, their motivation must come from a place of altruism. Why does this organization feel compelled to take action on their mission? This motivation can be divvied up into two categories: accomplishing objectives for the growth of the organization or making a positive impact on the world at large. While both are necessary for the sustained performance of any organization, which category is the primary driver of their actions? Are they more concerned with the pomp and circumstance of their institution or with giving back to the world at large? Any organization worth its salt will err on the side of making a positive impact on the world.

3.  Existing Membership Profiles

Now that we understand the mission and motivation behind the organization, we can drill down to the composition of the membership. You can glean a great deal about the organization’s aims and values by who they allow into their ranks. Political and religious leaders, scientists and doctors—the overall makeup of the organization can tell you where their values lie as an organization and whether or not you are aligned with their true aims. If they do not provide a list, you may still be able to find individuals in the news or on their personal websites that mention the organization and their aims.  

4.  Symbol of Truth

While it may be difficult to find a list of active members for some societies, most organizations have a symbol or token that allows them to recognize other members. From the rings and pins worn by the Masons to coins, cards, or other symbolic items, true societies will always provide a way to recognize one another with discretion. They may even be worn openly to invite contacts from the organization to recognize their mutual membership. These symbols are not only calling cards for other members, they can stand as a physical reminder of the organization’s values and code of conduct.

5.  Written Laws or Principles

In addition to established objectives, missions, and symbols, most verifiable organizations will hand down a set of laws, guidelines, or principles that direct the organization to the success of their mission and goals. These teachings have been established to hand down relevant information to each successive generation, keeping the knowledge and the organization alive.

This allows prospective members to determine if their own values and principles align with that of the group before considering any offer of inclusion. If the organization cannot provide you with useful tools in this manner, it is likely they are more interested in monetization or data and contact mining than making a positive impact on the world. All societies should be able to give as much to their members as they ask of them.

6.  Rule Book

Outside of generational principles that should be taught and upheld by all members, true societies will have a book of rules or a credo by which all members must live. This ensures conformity between members and provides direction in interactions both inside and outside of the institution. In essence, these rules outline the standards by which the entire organization operates. These rules also ensure that all members are held accountable for their actions, propagating the high-value reputation they seek to uphold.

7.  Class System for Mentorship

Given that most societies have sustained power and influence for years, their membership should include a vast array of success, experience, and wisdom across multiple generations. To establish order, hold true to the organization’s values, and provide a chain of command for mentors, it stands to reason most organizations will operate on a distinctly outlined hierarchy. All members have rights and responsibilities within the system based on their level within the institution. This allows true societies to operate in a way that meets the needs of various members while preventing the chaos of a free-for-all forum or committee.

8.  Scope of Membership

Once you believe in the overall validity of the organization, the membership process should also provide you with insight into their true intentions. With few exceptions, secret societies establish and maintain a clear rubric of who is permitted to join their ranks. This ensures that the quality and safety of all members are respected while upholding the values that members live by. Most legitimate organizations promote only from within, relying on current members to recognize the values of the organization in others and offer up a nomination or invitation for consideration. This does not ensure your acceptance. However, if an organization will allow anyone to join, it is likely they are taking advantage of those to whom they offer a membership.

9.  Small Window of Opportunity

If you are one of the lucky few that receive an invitation, it is likely that there will be a window of opportunity in which you must give your reply. Societies are looking for members that operate based on their dedication to the cause rather than on the fear of the unknown. The ability to make a decision and take action is essential to the organization’s overall success. You can be assured that a organization that is dedicated to their cause rather than the potentially lucrative benefits of having a large membership will have a specific timeline for acceptance before the offer for inclusion is withdrawn.

10.  Chance to Ask Questions

Even after researching the organization, its members, and its publicly available resources, it is natural that you may still have questions. While the organization may be unable to reveal their inner workings prior to your acceptance of an invitation, that should not prevent them from answering more general inquiries. Oftentimes, legitimate societies will provide an avenue—a call, a meeting, a contact—to have questions answered about any of the topics we’ve already discussed. If you find that the organization refuses to provide enough general information or offer up enough data to verify their intentions, you will do good to be wary.

11.  Vetting Process

Once you’ve decided to accept the nomination, all authentic secret societies should have some degree of vetting process for initiates, much like any college or professional institution. Whatever the process is, you can rest assured that it will be tied into the core values of the organization and its membership. This allows the organization to rate your value as an asset to the organization and their cause before fully accepting the nomination. While you seek to ensure the validity of the organization, they too must believe they have offered membership to the right individual.

12.  Annual Dues

Finally, the question that drives many people to doubt the validity of an organization—do they have annual dues or fees? While many people may be leery of organizations that ask for money up front, annual dues are vital to the running of a legitimate organization. True societies operate like a business, from hiring staff to facilitate projects to funding initiatives under their overall objective. This does not mean that you should blindly pay dues before being accepted as a full member with rights and benefits. Conversely, you should be leery to accept a membership that does not include fees as these organizations will not have the resources to facilitate the needs of its members. This type of organization is often built to solely generate income through selling products to their members and their external contacts.

The most important takeaway from this is that secret societies are not nearly as secret as you once thought. They understand that movies and books have had a major impact on how people approach their institutions, be it from fear, adoration, or curiosity. True secret or private organizations are willing to share their overall goals, core values, and guidelines as a way to attract potential candidates that may fit in their ranks. When these factors are not available to the public or before accepting an offer of membership, it benefits the prospective member to take a step back and ask themselves why this organization won’t provide general information. The truth of the matter is that there are dozens of altruistic societies around the world and you would be lucky to find yourself offered a place among their ranks. For further reference, here are the top ten most popular private organizations active in the world today in no particular order.

1.  Freemasonry

The Freemasons or Masons trace their ancestry from the end of the 14th century and provide an abundance of information on their mission and objectives. Additionally, information can be found regarding their initiation, lodges, and basic rules before joining. To express your interest, you may email your local chapter.

 2.  Knights of Columbus

The Knights of Columbus was founded sometime in the 1800s and their mission and goals remain unchanged even as the ways they make an impact have improved as the world develops. Their mission, history, and programs are all accessible for public knowledge. They are religiously affiliated and have a defined membership; however, anyone within their membership guidelines may email them for possible inclusion.  

 3.  The Bellwether Alliance

The Bellwether Alliance is a long-standing organization, yet its foundation date is unknown. It operates based on their core values and has no political or religious affiliation. Their site clearly outlines their mission, objectives, credo, and hierarchy for all possible candidates. Information regarding their teachings and how to achieve generational wealth for the purpose of making a positive impact on the world may also be found online. Although it has recently become more publicly searchable, nominations may only be offered from within.

 4.  Skull and Bones

Founded in 1882, Skull and Bones resides at Yale University, earning a reputation for operating in the shadows through their mysterious nature. Nominations can only come from current membership and must be students from the current year’s undergraduate senior class. While much information is not available, a list of famous Bonesmen can be found online.  

 5.  Illuminati

The Illuminati have been a politically and religiously affiliated society since the 17th century. Their symbols, beliefs, agenda, and history are all available through their verified website and social media platforms. Anyone may request to join the Illuminati though they specifically seek people of great influence worldwide.

 6.  Quill and Dagger

Another university-based society, Quill and Dagger was established at Cornell University in 1893. One of the most public societies to post their list of members, Quill and Dagger is also well-known for being one of the first societies to accept women within their ranks. Their objectives and activities are unclear, with the exception of certain projects at the university itself. Nominations of undergraduate senior class members may come only from within.

 7.  The Flat Hat Club

The Flat Hat Club at the College William and Mary is the first recorded collegiate secret society in the United States. Their mission focuses on education and members are nominated from the undergraduate class by current members. Though they suspended activities during World War II, they have since revived the society and its practices.

 8.  Seven Society

The Seven Society at the University of Virginia was founded in 1905, yet its history remains mysterious. Their objectives and mission are not readily available to the public, but their donations to university programs and a list of past members can be found. Membership is unusual in that prospective members need not be a current or former student of the University of Virginia.

 9.  Bilderberg Meeting

The first Bilderberg Meeting was held in 1954 with the aim of facilitating dialogue between North America and Europe. Basic information regarding their members, goals, and history may be found online, but details are sparse. Nominations may only come from within the current membership.

 10.  The Stewards

Little public information is available on the Georgetown University-based society, The Stewards. They are known to be both religiously and politically affiliated and were disbanded in the 1990s for a time. A second Society of Stewards is active today.

Contributor: Cory Linder