#like I guess I will be catching up on HACKS and Stranger Things also came out

[chocolate-cream-soldier]

-

[merctrovert]

Ragnvindr || Chapter 3

"In the abandoned corridors of my heart, your footsteps still echo late at night.” - d.j

You couldn't help but be reminded of what was as the two of you sat, legs over the wall, watching the night.

The words you had prepared every night, rehearsing to the dark blank walls, until this moment in time, had disintegrated into foam. You remembered nothing you had spent hours pretending to speak to him about.

Seeing him next to you, there for your questioning felt so alien, you had lost everything you wanted to tell him. 

After imagining him in your mind, as who he used to be, now that you were faced with the reality, the images in your mind broke away and revealed the truth.

The truth that no matter when you met him or how you met him, you would never be able to tell him what was truly on your mind. 

"I don’t know what to ask you about." You spoke honestly, quietly.

Diluc had not spoken since he turned around. His mask lay on the ground next to his lap, his face bare.

He looked exhausted. Gone was the youthful, bright gaze in his eyes that you used to admire and treasure.

The man from beside you turned, meeting your gaze and raised a brow.

You turned back, a faint smile on your lips. "But we can stay like this for a little longer. It's been a long time."

Your last words faded into a whisper as you tucked your knees into yourself, resting your chin on your knees.

"I left."

You hummed, watching the moon. His voice had gotten deeper, darkened eyes more forlorn. But both of you had changed in ways you had never expected.

Diluc from beside you shuffled uncomfortably.

"What's with the whole Darknight thing?"

He stared at you as if he thought that was the last thing he'd be questioned about.

"I never thought you'd want to be a hero."

"It's a stupid name, there is no use in empty titles."

Your lips quirked at his comment.

"But the Knights are simply incompetent." His answers were short.

"That was how I knew it was you, you know. Be careful of what you say."

"Only you would know through such limited evidence like that."

"Not Kaeya?"

As if you had presented him with foul food, his eyes dulled, even more, his lips setting back into their line.

You had never been as close with Kaeya, but you were both on good terms. Whenever was possible, Kaeya would come with an arm slung around Diluc and a smile on his face.

But now, their relationship seemed different. You made a note to go see Kaeya too, whether that meant talking to him or not.

"How.. have you been?"

"Alright."

"Are you..." Taking care, was what you wanted to say, but instead frowned, letting your question drag out. It felt strange to be close to him again.

That wall you had felt before was back, an invisible barrier between you two. It felt like you couldn't even check up on him without feeling like a stranger.

"You haven't changed a bit."

You raised a brow at the man who stared back blankly. "You're always pestering me like you're my mother."

Shrugging innocently, you stood up, stretching your legs.

"How is... your family?"

You stopped stretching, lowering your arms. "They're okay. No one got severely hurt except..."

Except for your eldest brother's wife. You heard the news after you arrived back in Mondstadt. Your brother had shielded his wife, but it wasn't enough. She died after a blow to her head with the heavy crates on the carriages and not only that but... she had been with child too. And now your brother never showed his face.

Your heart clenched. You longed for his carefree jokes and laughter. But that was also missing from your life now.

"...?"

You looked down, blinking several times until you realised you had zoned out. Diluc looked up at you after calling your name and you looked away. "Sorry. Everyone's okay."

Silently, he picked himself up, clutching his mask in his hand. "I see. I'm... glad to hear then."

You stared down at your boots, the wind brushing your hair away from your face.

You had so many questions. If he got any of the letters you sent throughout those four years if things really were okay with him. And what had happened... even you didn't know clearly.

But you stayed quiet. You both had only met again after all. There was time.

You raised a hand, catching a stray dandelion in the wind.

"Hey... Diluc."

He turned, hair waving in the wind.

"I still have my questions. But I will wait for whenever you are ready to tell me the answers."

He nodded, following your gaze into the night. "As will I."

The silence was broken by a loud clattering nearly scaring you and Diluc whipped on his mask, immediately peering down.

"What was that?"

"There's been a lot of strange attacks lately." He spoke hurriedly as he dashed over the walls. You kept up, despite your aching legs from the long journey to Mondstadt. "Strange marks are left around... I think it has something to do with the Abyss Mages that keep showing up lately."

"Abyss Mages? Why would the Abyss Order be..." There was a louder crash and the sounds of dogs barking as you both got closer to the noise.

Diluc leapt down from the wall, your heart thudding in fear for him until his midnight gliders ripped open, letting him soar through the rooves of the sleeping city.

You didn't have one yourself, but you managed— clambering down chimneys and jumping across rooves just to follow the shadowy figure.

You had lost him for a second when a bright burst of red and orange came from below. Fire.

Leaping down onto the paths, you ran towards the conflict, shielding your face as a brighter, more powerful gust of fire erupted.

When the flash of flames had settled, you ran towards the spot, waving away the smell of burnt wood. Coughing, you found Diluc standing over a trembling figure, his claymore struck into the ground. Cracks ran through the ground, releasing steam.

"Is everything okay...?"

You shouldn't have shown your face then as Diluc turned, seemingly forgetting you were there. The figure, an Abyss Mage, leapt up, seizing its opportunity to escape.

It dove towards you but after years of training for self-defence in Liyue, your hands seized its neck before it could go anywhere and slammed it down into the ground, narrowly dodging an icy blast.

Diluc stared at you oddly, his claymore raised to hack it down, but you had already slammed the creature back into the ground.

He was still standing still, watching you. "Are you going to do something to it?"

For the first time, Diluc was speechless, lips parting and closing until he quickly regained himself, staring down at the unconscious mage.

"I apologise. I forgot I... had someone with me."

As he bound it tightly in ropes that magic could not penetrate through, Diluc stayed silent, though a frown was on his face. Finally, when he had hung up the Mage in front of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, he turned to you.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"You don't know what I can do now." You sent him a smile but his frown remained.

"I guess you really did change."

"It's been four years. I was a kid."

His frown deepened hearing this, heaving the claymore back onto his back. Something caught his attention as he bent down to assess it.

"Here, see. Marks like these."

Diluc handed you a blue, glowing feather about the size of your thumb and you raised it up, looking at it carefully. Purple incantations rippled around it when you held it, a slight burning sensation growing at the tips of your fingers. You dropped it quickly, watching the words fade.

"They're left every after Abyss attack. I can't help but think the Order is doing something..."

"I think I've seen this before."

"You have?" He stood up straight, turning to you, dark gloved hands holding your shoulders. His voice was filled with urgency.

Patting his hand, you slid out of his grasp, nodding. "The last four years... I've been travelling around. And these purple markings... I saw them once in Snezhnaya. But they weren't left by the Abyss Order. It was the Fatui."

Diluc's fist clenched. "I found these marks scattered across the seven nations. If what you're saying  is true.. but they couldn't have come together... they hate each other." He chuckled, but it was mirthless, ending in what sounded like a snarl. "If the Fatui are with them..."

"You know something don't you? Was it..." Your words were tentative. But his burning eyes were almost an answer already. "It was them that was involved in the attack four years ago wasn't it?"

He looked away. "I spent all this time not once ushering a word about my past. But now I must face it again..." He scoffed, fist clenching. "What a cruel world. If the Fatui are involved also... then this proves to be a bigger problem than I thought it would be."

"You said you went travelled across the seven nations too. Were you... searching for an answer?"

Crepus's death was a stark memory in your mind. It was sudden, so sudden and Diluc had looked at the Delusion as though he had never seen such a thing before.

"The truth..." His voice sounded far away. "I found it. It was a Delusion that killed him. And these counterfeit Visions lied in the hands of the Fatui. If they have the power to do this.. combined with the Abyss Order..."

A Delusion. You were right. Diluc's father had never received a Vision but... just how did he get his hands on a Vision?

"You knew."

You looked up at Diluc, who had noticed your unsurprised reaction. "I overheard one of our fathers' conversations once. I snuck around a lot which also meant I eavesdropped on many things without meaning to, never knowing if they were important or not."

"You didn't tell me."

"You disappeared."

He tilted his head, hiding his face in the shadows. Your eyes dropped down, feeling the heavy silence weigh down on your shoulders. Clearing your throat, you looked back up.

"You don't think they're planning to summon something just as dangerous as what happened four years ago?"

"It's hard to say for sure. But..." Diluc looked up, eyeing the horizon. A slow orange glow dissolved into the dark sky, chasing away the night. "They're planning something for sure."

"You intend to solve this on your own?"

He stayed quiet but you had received your answer. Before you could say anything, he spoke. "I can't let history repeat. It is better off on my own. I have faced things more dangerous than this."

You watched him stand up straight, facing the growing orange glow. The sun was beginning to rise behind him, giving him a halo of blazing fire.

"I know we may as well be strangers by now.” You fist clenched by your side. Thinking it was one thing, admitting it was another. “But I can help you."

"We are walking on too different paths. It would be better not to get involved with me." He leapt up, landing onto a roof, preparing to disappear into the shadows again before the sun had fully crept over the land of Mondstadt.

Why do you push me away, you wanted to ask as you looked up at him, at his silhouette as he turned, facing the sunrise. Was he afraid, you wondered, as you stared at his lone image. The halo of light around him growing brighter.

You were afraid too.

But when your lips opened, you spoke in a tumble of words, afraid he would leave before you had the chance to tell him everything you had ever thought about. 

"I think you'll find, Diluc, that I have been involved with you since the day I decided I'd search for you."

next

word count: 2K

Thank you so much for the support!! Be taking care <3

I haven’t figured out how to do a taglist D: (help is going to be v appreciated :sob) so for now, this is a temporary makeup. 

@fishyfish-y​

[wordsfromthesol]

Search Party (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Warnings: Language Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Look I did another part to the thing! Reminder this is set in HP world.

Part One

“So you sent off my best friend without any kind of back-up or plan?”

“Okay, well –” Dick sighed as he quickly realized the gravity of the situation. “He volunteered and I think we were all hoping Bruce was just in one of his moods.”

“Hm, and how did that work out for you?” You glared at him as your brow arched.

“I feel bad enough, don’t look at me like that!”

"Where are we going anyways?" You questioned as you trudged through the forest, following in his footsteps.

"I just wanted to get further from the school –"

"No shit." You cut off him off, digging for the answer he was blatantly ignoring.

"Right…uh…Gotham City." Dick mumbled, barely at an audible level.

"Of course it is." The rest of the trip was nearly silent. You tried to ignore the fact that you were headed to one of the most dangerous cities in the world. One that had been nearly taken over by various dark wizards too many times to count. Not to mention you were headed there with a near stranger in search of your missing best friend.

**

The two of you finally ended up at the edge of a rather impressive mansion. Though instead of walking in, Dick pulled you to the ground as he pressed a finger to his lips.

"This should be a safe house. But with Tim and Bruce not answering…I'm not sure if we should go in right away."

"Can't you just flash us in?"

"Yeah no. There's no way I'm risking that without knowing what's on the other side."

"What could possibly –"  The end of your question was stifled by Dick's hand clasping over your mouth. Before you could retaliate, he pointed towards someone entering the house. Someone he didn't recognize. Once again you were being pulled in a different direction. This time the two of you ended up in a moderately furnished apartment in the heart of the city. Dick didn't waste any time, setting up a protection enchantment on the space. You just watched in awe at the meticulous forethought. What was this family involved in? You shook the possibilities from your mind as you sat on the couch.

"Alright. We need to gather intel. Someone is clearly trying to take control of the city."

"And Tim has what to do with that?"

"Our family may or may not be involved in combating the infamous Joker, Two-Face, Penguin…really I could go on for a while."

"Of course you are. No wonder Tim seemed to already know what to do in class."

"Yeah, Bruce sent us there to keep up appearances. We have a fast way back if he ever needs us."

"And we didn't take that why??" Your voice went up an octave as you remembered the journey here taking several hours.

"Because it lands us in the Manor. Which has now been overrun."

"Right. Did Tim take it?"

"No."

"So he could still be safe somewhere in the city."

"No."

"What the hell do you mean, no?!" The anger was bubbling up inside you. Why couldn't this man just give you a straight answer.

Dick's chest fell as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. Though it took him nearly a minute to respond to your question. "We have precautions set up. He would have contacted us through them." Dick looked around, still very clearly on guard, "I just hope he's with dad."

That was the first time you heard Dick call him dad in your presence. Everything was beginning to take its toll. "Okay," you tried to help him formulate a plan. Anything to ease the anxiety audibly building up inside him. "We need information. No one here knows me, I'll go on the streets. See what I can find out."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you didn't ask." Dick flashed a somber half-smile your direction as you headed for the door.

"I'll see if I can hack into the system at the Manor."

"We'll find them. Both of them." Reassuring him as you opened the front door.

**

Things definitely did not go as planned. Thankfully, you got some great intel along the way. The Old Gotham Subways on the north side of the city seemed to be a common destination for Mr. Freeze's goons. And you may or may not have found out Mr. Freeze was the one who took Bruce Wayne by using a truth serum on some low life goon. You planned to leave that information out, as Dick was likely to deduce that the truth serum you were carrying was meant for him. Though you didn't have to use it, as he told you about Tim.

Here you were stumbling up the stairs to the apartment you left hours ago. Every part of you was bruised and several cuts adorned your flesh. You had gotten a little too close to said subways and began running once you heard "Bombarda Maxima" leave someone's lips. After a sharp inhale, you pushed your way into the apartment. Dick didn't even look up from the computer.

"I got into the system. It looks like they haven't been able to take it over. Seems like were dealing with frosty. At least that's whose goons keep flashing across the security cameras. Haven't seen big man himself. Also haven't seen any signs of Tim or --" His rant was cut short by the sound of a loud thud. Dick looked up to see you catching yourself against a nearby wall, eyes growing wider as he noticed the wounds. "What the fuck happened?!" His tone was much harsher than you expected.

"Doesn't matter. I think they are holding Bruce at the Old Gotham Subways."

"It definitely does matter. What happened?" Dick got up from the couch and made his way towards you, helping you make your way to the bedroom.

"I got a little too close to said subways." The annoyance in your voice evident as you reluctantly took his help.

"Why didn't you come get me?" His inflections slowly transitioning into a more somber and worried tone, as he set you on the bed. He quietly surveyed the wounds that littered your body.

"I really didn't think it was some hideout. Just following up on some information I overheard." Your words lost their bite, now you were just trying to reassure him that you were okay.

"I'll go check it out then." Dick moved to leave, but your arm shot up and grasped his wrist.

"You aren't going alone."

"Well look at you, you can't go."

"I'll be fine. Get some more surveillance from the Manor and come up with a plan. I'll be ready in a few hours."

"I can't let you get hurt again!" Dick's voice bellowed through the room as he turned to leave yet again.

"What do you think is happening to Tim? Bruce? What do you think will happen to you?!" You screamed after him before taking a deep breath, calming yourself down. "We have a better chance together."

Dick huffed, realizing this was yet another battle he would not win. He was beginning to see a pattern when it came to your stubbornness. "Fine. But you're staying behind me." Dick glanced back at you, despair strewn throughout his gaze "And if I say get out. You get out and get help." You nodded in agreement to pacify Dick's mind.

[wordstro]

Part II

"mingi + mafia au + you shouldn't have done that"

Read Part I

2.5k, lots of people asked for part 2 to this so here you go! warnings for angst and language! hongjoong is prominent here and also scary lol. thank you!! 

he said they would make an example out of you. mingi said it so easily, without a hint of remorse in his eyes.

so maybe that’s why they put a blindfold over your eyes and duck tape over your mouth, why they shoved you out of your apartment (you think by the one you knocked over the head since he seems to enjoy making you stumble blindly into walls the entire walk out of your building). your hands are sweaty and your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, on edge.

you hate the silence, it just puts you more on edge, your heart lodged in your throat. even as one of them shoved you into a car, not even bothering to set you upright as they drove to god-knows-where. you almost wish someone would have yelled at you, wish you didn’t have to lay on your side, unable to see or really breathe properly and think too many thoughts about mingi. you missed him and he was going to kill you, or worse, and you were terrified.

by the time the car came to halt, by the time you were dragged out the car (you’d stumbled, scraping your knees on asphalt before getting yanked up so hard, you thought they were trying to pull your arm out of its socket), by the time you’re shoved forward, knees buckling under you, by the time everything seemed to finally stop, you knew you had no more fight left in you. you were still angry, of course you were, but you also couldn’t stop thinking. a part of you didn’t want the blindfold to come off. you didn’t want to stare down the barrel of yet another gun, especially not if mingi was behind it.

but, the blindfold comes off.

you blink, eyes adjusting to the bright lights around you. you can’t quite make out where you are, and your terrified brain seems to only be able to latch on to small details. like a defense mechanism. the floor beneath you a dark cherry wood, the fancy kind you see on home improvement shows. there’s no carpet. you look up. there are plants, green, bright, out of place. plastic. there’s plastic laid out around you, to catch paint. or maybe blood, your stupid brain supplies, making your heart drop.

it takes a moment too long to register the black boots in front of you, but when you do, a chill runs right down your spine as your eyes travel upwards. a man crouches in front of you. he’s small, his features sharp, but a little delicate, pretty almost. his eyes, however, contain a sort of intensity that makes your stomach churn. he radiates a sort of power that looms over him, making him bigger. all your instincts scream at you to run. but you can’t.

he smiles politely, but there is nothing kind about it. your laptop is balanced in his hands as he crouches in front of you. his voice is controlled, pointed, business-like, chilling. “so you’re the one who’s been trying to hack into our systems?”

your words are caught in your throat. you nod, quickly. the man just nods, once, before he slowly sets your laptop down on the floor in front of you, opening it.

“I'm told you have no idea who ordered you to hack our systems.”

slowly, you nod your head.

slowly, he reaches out, taps a single finger against the top of your laptop, and he says, “log in. show us where you communicate with your clients.”

you hesitate, despite everything, fingers curling into fists against the dark wood floors. your nails scratch against the hardwood, just a bit. us, he said. you glance over your shoulder and there are eyes on you, too many. mingi, too, eyes blank, expressionless, as if you’re only a stranger. that causes something to shift inside you. maybe, it’s your sanity. maybe, it’s just anger. maybe, it’s the knowledge that once you log in to your laptop and give them the information they want, you’re dead. you don’t want to die.

“I don’t log communication with my clients. not permanently.” your voice is not steady at all, but it’s the best you can do, especially as you look the man in front of you in the eyes.

“that’s not what I asked of you.” the man stares right back, unblinking, and his tone is sharp, raising just a bit.

there’s a scoff from behind you. you stare right back, straightening up, fists curling in your lap, “i’m not doing it.”

he simply raises a brow at you.

your mouth runs on autopilot, “I usually require payment before I give people information. this,” you gesture at your laptop, barely breathing, “is information. you clearly want that information, so I want something in return.”

there’s a snicker behind you, of disbelief, before silence blankets over the room, so heavy and full that it has you holding your breath. still, you don’t look away first, holding the man’s gaze.

he stares and stares until he breaks into a grin that is all teeth, “let me guess? you want us to let you go?”

"yes." you nod, as steadily as you can, try to lighten the mood, “a couple million won doesn’t hurt either.”

he snorts and, for a moment, you think he’ll agree. but, then, his demeanor changes completely, the polite smile dropping. he’s still crouched in front of you, but his hand shoots out, grabbing your face, making you yelp. he yanks you forward, making you lose your balance, until your face is mere inches from his, and he bites out, “I like your enthusiasm, but I do not tolerate threats.” you gulp, just as he shoves your face into your laptop.

“look,” he continues, “I promised mingi I would let him decide how to kill you. but, if you keep refusing to do as I asked, I might have to hand you off to san.”

he looks over your shoulder and you follow his gaze, to a familiar face grinning, too amused; you recognize him quickly as the one you nearly knocked out with the lamp and you groan internally, because, of course, you had to attack the sadistic, vengeful one. you try so hard not to think about the slight relief at what he had said, at the familiarity of mingi’s name, try not to think about the stony look passing his features before you looked at san.

“now,” he reaches out, taps your cheek, the same way he had with your laptop earlier. you barely suppress the flinch as he says, “be a good little hacker and do as you’re told.”

you hesitate, fists clenching at his tone. he tilts his head, eyes narrowing, nail digging slightly into your cheek. your heart jumps in your chest, stomach twisting. your hands move on their own accord, finding your laptop quickly. you type in your password with shaking fingers. the man’s expression smooths out at your actions, back into pristine politeness.

“good job, sweetheart.” he coos.

~.~.~.~.~

you’re shoved into him. maybe it’s the exhaustion that comes with being forced to unveil the ins and outs of a system you spent years building (to a man named yeosang), maybe it’s the tension that hasn’t left you since the screen changed on your laptop back at your apartment, maybe it’s something else, but you’re angry, scowling at the man for shoving you.

all he does is snort at your expression before looking over your shoulder, gaze pointed. and then someone is grabbing you by the shoulders, pulling you out of the room, and you look up, craning your neck a bit because he’s stupidly tall and -

“I can walk on my own.” you don’t mean to shout. it’s like all the pent-up anger from being pushed around has finally burst after seeing a familiar face. you don’t even know if he’ll treat you the same way his boss was treating you, but somehow your brain still sees song mingi and thinks safe, despite the current circumstances. despite the years.

for a moment, everything is silent, too silent, and you can’t read his expression nor his body language. you cringe when he gestures ahead, his voice low, familiar, as he says, “go down the hall and enter the third door on the left.” you don’t move. he adds, tone sharper now, “go.”

anger boils under your skin, but you follow his directions because you can still see the open door where that man, and san, and yeosang, and the others are and you don’t want to come face-to-face with any of them again.

when you open the door he indicated, you’re surprised to see a bedroom. it looks lived in. you blink, even as he shuts the door behind him, locking it from the inside. he’s so quiet as he brushes past you, to the dresser, and starts digging through the drawers. his movements are all stiff, his back tense, and your anger only grows and grows, as if his presence is allowing you the space and comfort to feel the emotions you had suppressed, both throughout the years as well as this evening.

when he finally, finally, turns to face you, your hands are balled into tight fists at your side, your body coiled so tightly, you’re afraid you’ll break.

he’s holding sweats, a t-shirt, and a towel. he says, tone clipped, angry, even though you think he has no right to be angry, “go change. if you want, you can shower, too.”

“what the fuck.” you burst and you want to scream, but your voice cracks at the last word. you stare at him disbelief. “what the fuck are you doing right now?”

“I’m taking care of you.” he snaps, sharp as a knife, nothing like the soft boy you’d known all your life. his jar is clenched, as if he is holding himself back. “you look like shit.”

“because of you.” you cry, irritated.

“no!” mingi seems to snap then, throwing the clothes and towel on the bed before he stalks forward, pointing at you. “do not fucking blame me for this. you are here because of you, not me.”

“you and your gang kidnapped me. how the hell is this my fault?”

“you’re not supposed to be here.” mingi raises his voice, not nearly as loud as your voice, but still as loud as thunder. “you’re supposed to be somewhere out in the world with a cushy desk job, a nice steady relationship, and maybe a fucking dog. you were supposed to be doing great things. you promised me you would do great things.”

the way his voice cracks, breaks away into a sort of vulnerability, a fear, causes a lump in your throat. you know he’s right. you know it. “shit happens, mingi. life isn’t a fairy tale.” your voice is barely louder than a whisper, hoarse.

“I know.” he stares at the floor, shoulders slumping, and you think he knows better than anyone. the look in his eyes tells you he's seen too much for someone his age. he sighs, “I heard about uncle. I’m sorry.”

“you weren’t there when I needed you.” your fingernails dig into your palm. he meets your gaze and the steely gaze drops, finally, finally. he looks at you the way you imagined he would have if he was there when he should have been.

“I just...I wanted to keep you away from all this.” he gestures behind you, past the door. “from me.”

“that wasn’t your decision to make, mingi.” you shake your head, trying to gulp down the lump in your throat. “not on your own.”

his eyes shine under the fluorescent room lighting and something about the way he stands there, an arms-length away from you, makes him seem so...small. there’s guilt there, in his expression, especially as he nods, “I know, I know.” he takes a deep, steadying breath, reminding you of how much he used to cry, how bad he was at holding it in, how he’s changed so much since then. he whispers, “I really am sorry.”

you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, not yet, but you find yourself slowly stepping forward, until you’re right in front of him. mingi looks down at you, with shining eyes and guilt and regret, and it hurts your heart in ways you never thought. slowly, hesitantly, he opens his arms. you step into his outstretched arms, breathing in his scent, and, for the first time that night, you feel safe. or, at least, safer than you have felt in a long, long time.

“I wish you didn’t end up here.” he murmurs, after a beat, his breath warm against the top of your head, his fingers drawing little patterns along your back as he pulls you in tight. something in his tone sets off little alarms. there’s too much guilt there, too much meaning. he shakes a little under your touch.

your fingers tighten around the back of his shirt, the hairs raising at the back of your neck as you tilt your head back, looking up at him. the realization isn’t a slow-dawning thing. you’ve always been smart. you’ve always been good at reading between the lines.

“he said you’re supposed to decide how to kill me.” you’re whispering. “is that...are you...”

you trail off as his fingers flex in your hair. you search his eyes, notice he’s not crying, like the old him would have. that there’s steeliness there, a hardiness that has your grip around his waist tightening even more.

“you were never, ever supposed to get wrapped up in all this.” he chokes out his words, emotions overwhelming. and you think, despite the years that’s separated the two of you, your history still remains, it still colors your thoughts, actions, and your memories. the love you two held for each other still brings you to your knees, despite how hard you tried to forget it. you think platonic love is harder to forget, harder to erase, and the way mingi looks at you, with fondness and guilt and deep, deep care, reminds you of that. you think he will shatter any moment when he murmurs, “we were never supposed to meet again.”

"it's okay." slowly, you murmur, “maybe, we’ll meet again someday. in another life.”

this new mingi crumbles into the old one, the one you loved so very much, his expression twisting.

“yeah?” he asks, like you hold the secrets of the universe.

“yeah.” you respond and you hope you are right.

(that night you stay up, curled up on your side, and you tell him everything he’s missed. he tells you everything you’ve missed, too. you talk and you laugh and you cry and you pretend like you’re only catching up for the sake of catching up.

you revel in how much you've missed him. maybe, you can’t forgive him (you don’t think you ever really can) but you’ve missed him terribly.

even as he strokes your hair, tears unshed, shushing you gently as the sun comes up. even as he kills you.)

[inspirationdivine]

Threads  That Bind || Lydia and Nell

Timing: Current Parties: @nelllraiser @inspirationdivine Summary: Lydia and Nell get to know each other much more than intended Triggers: Head trauma mention,   stalking

Her wings were entirely free. Under a glamour so that none might see, but Lydia revelled in the feeling of the wind cutting around them, ruffling the fresh wing. Everything was heightened under the new nerves, freshly learning what to feel and what to ignore. It was beautiful and disconcerting, but as Lydia walked along Amity road with pain for the first time in six weeks, Lydia could enjoy herself. Even as she saw a woman struggling with something on her hand, Lydia thought nothing of it, beginning to sidestep around her automatically.

Was it Nell’s fault that she hadn’t gotten around to trying out the prize she’d gotten for entering the pie contest until this moment? Probably. But was it also her fault that her finger was now seemingly and hopelessly stuck into one side of the chinese finger trap, rendering her halfway useless? Most definitely. Muttering to herself under her breath with frustration pouring over her lips, she didn’t hesitate to call out when someone came a little too close to her. They’d have to be the one to help her get this thing off, and free her from the child's toy’s obviously nefarious clutches. “Hey! You!” She abruptly pointed at the woman with the hand that was still held prisoner by the woven contraption. “Help me out of this thing! It won’t let me go.” The witch waved her hand around in vain, making another attempt at releasing herself.

Lydia frowned, turning on her heel as someone addressed her, pointing right at her like Lydia was some carnival spectacle. “It’s a child’s toy, isn’t it? You need to compress it to get yourself out.” She stepped forward anyway, a nervous, jittery energy to her movements - she was energetic and jittery, mushroom spores thick in the air. “Look, like this,” She said, fully intending to push it so that it would open around the girl’s finger. That wasn’t what she ended up doing. Whether it was that both their hands moved in the wrong way at the wrong moment, or fate intervened, or just the mushroom spores messing with her actions, all of a sudden, Lydia’s finger had sunk right into the hole, trapping her as much as Nell.

Nell blinked cluelessly as the woman’s finger soon joined in on the not-so-fun of being trapped. “A child’s toy, huh?” she commented dryly. “Of course I already tried pushing it. I know how it works,” Nell said stubbornly. “This isn’t working obviously so just...take your finger out, I guess. Maybe I can cut it off or something.” It hadn’t yet occurred to Nell that the other women might also be stuck, apparently doomed to a life of being prisoner to a Chinese finger trap. What the hell was wrong with this thing, anyway? She should have known anything she won from the pie contest would be some sort of cursed shit.

Lydia frowned, looking up at Nell, as if it was the girl’s fault rather than her own. It should be simple, shouldn’t it? She pushed her finger into Nell, and then pulled it back, but where it should have slid off easily, it remained stuck, trapping them in place. “Not again,” Lydia muttered to herself, trying to get her finger out the normal way again. “Scissors might not be a bad idea. Oh come on, this isn’t funny. Where on earth did you get this thing?”

Nell’s own frown deepened as the woman’s continued attempts proved fruitless. “What’s wrong with this thing?” she growled in frustration, jerking on the trap perhaps a little too hard, as if she could force her finger out of it. “I have a knife,” Nell said without explanation before trying to jimmy one of said blades from its hiding spot with her single free hand. It was a bit more difficult to coerce it out when her mobility was limited by their connection. “Here we go-” she said before laying the dagger against the trap, beginning to move it in a sawing motion. Instead...the metal of it promptly began to spark, as if it had met another metal it couldn’t cut through. “What the hell? This is bullshit!” It seemed her usual method of powering through wasn’t working. “I got it from that stuid pie contest! It was a prize!”

Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise as Nell just whipped out a knife. She flinched, cringing away as Nell tried to hack away the band, risking their fingers in the process. Lydia was almost relieved it didn’t work. “You won it in the pie contest? Why on earth would you ever put yourself in a situation to risk such danger? I don’t know anyone who was truly completely happy with their prize, everything came with a double edge. Oh well. We will just have to solve this. Did it come with any instructions? I know someone with invisible scissors that we could try, for the last time something happened.”

Nell growled with frustration as the thing held true on their fingers, leaving them still connected. “Well I didn’t know the prizes were faulty to begin with,” she replied defensively. “Why would I have any reason to think so?” But when Lydia mentioned instructions, Nell pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, and handed it to the other woman. “I thought it was like a fortune or something when I read it. It was in with the packaging, though.” On the paper was a simple, singular sentence of ‘Release can be found in many unexpected places, but working together to solve problems will yield unmeasurable strength.’ The woman’s last words were quick to catch Nell’s attention. “Invisibile scissors?”

“What does that mean? We already tried the working together thing, pushing our fingers together and all that, that was co-operation.” Lydia tapped her fingers. There was almost a smile on her lips as she thought about it. This might be a riddle, and while the mushroom spores were thick in her mind, Lydia did love a word game. “Oh, oh! I was in a similar situation to this before, an invisible bond that could be broken with invisible scissors. I suspect it wouldn’t be the solution here, because this bond is… rather visible and rather an eyesore, I must admit.” She tapped her lip. “Unmeasurable strength. Do you have more strength than one might expect? Working together…. I wonder if this is not the problem we need to solve, necessarily. Solving problems implies more than one, while this little trap is only one. Do you know anyone with problems worth solving?”

The woman seemed to be almost enjoying this a little too much, and Nell wasn’t quite sure she was as keen for a riddle as her trapped partner was. “Who are you?” she asked in some bewilderment, still not sure what to make of the other woman. “A similar situation? What do you mean?” This woman grew more confusing by the moment, and even bigger of a mystery. As for unsuspected strength… “I mean- maybe. Do you?” Did magic count as unsuspected power? Probably, right? But parts of what was being said made sense in a way, even if Nell wouldn’t have thought of it herself. Unfortunately she seemed to have too many problems worth solving. None of which were ones she was happy to share with a complete stranger. “Yeah but- what about you? What are your problems?”

“I was stuck to standing near a man for a couple of weeks. It was no toy, but highly inconvenient.” Maybe. Lydia relaxed slightly. At least she wasn’t dealing with a human. “I wouldn’t call it unmeasurable, but something like that.” Not that she could promise bind a toy into doing anything. Fae magic required the capacity for thinking. “A lost friendship, a cruel stalker, a head injury that refuses to heal as it should, and complete weariness,” Lydia replied offhandedly, as if she was just reading a list off a menu, rather than the acheful thoughts that kept her up deep into the night. “None that seem the sort of thing that can be solved for a toy like this, nothing that requires unmeasurable strength.”

“How were you stuck next to a man? What does that even mean?” Nell continued to press, being her generally nosy self. “And you didn’t even tell me who you are, still.” The mention of the woman possibly having her own hidden strength was intriguing, only bringing more questions to the forefront of the young witch’s mind. She could think how each of the problems she had might relate to one of the ones Lydia had listed. Which...what exactly did that say about what her life had become? But it was also worrisome if this random woman also had such deep-seated problems. Was this just White Crest as a whole? Shaking that thought away, Nell decided to go on the offensive rather than wait to see if the other woman asked after Nell’s personal life. “Okay...which of those is easiest to solve?”

“It’s a rather long story, which I’d prefer not to go into.” That was another friend she’d lost, after all. Lydia shook her head. “It was likely some errant spellcaster leaving magic lying around where it shouldn’t have been, unlike this situation here.” Well, it really depended on who had made the finger trap, didn’t it? Lydia had a horrible thought for a second that spilled ice down her spine. Were there mime spell casters? Had they been responsible for this? “None of them, particularly. Certainly not anything that can be resolved by a stranger. I cannot undo the loss of that friendship, I don’t even know where the stalker is at this time, and nothing can done about my head that hasn’t already been done. Time is supposedly the answer to all ails, so I will just have to wait, which is hardly appropriate here. What about you?”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Nell insisted, wondering whether the dodging of her question twice in a row had been intentional or not. The mention of a spellcaster had her interest piquing, somewhat surprised that the woman would mention the supernatural so freely. “Sometimes magic just has a mind of its own.” She wouldn’t expect someone who hadn’t wielded it to understand. “Well- we have to resolve something.” Nell’s impatience was getting the better of her, also growing restless of standing in one place for so long. “I’m good at tracking,” she said absently at the mention of the stalker. “My mom’s a healer, but she’s sort of out of business right now.” Temporarily losing your magic via fext tended to do that to a person. “And the loss of friendship doesn’t have to be permanent like you said, right?” A frown was quick to grace her lips as Lydia turned the question back to her. Reluctantly, she answered in the vaguest terms she could manage. “I’m probably also coming up on a lost friendship, my family had a stalker but we’re working on that. A threat to them was actually recently resolved. Change will be coming that I’m not welcoming of.”

“You’re right, I have not,” Lydia agreed, if only because she was exhausted by magic forcing her to make acquaintanceships she’d rather not. Lydia frowned at Nell as she got frustrated, trying not to be frustrated herself. “I’m not sure my stalker is one I want tracked. The only reason I’m alive is that he changed his mind half way through murdering me and resuscitated me mid drowning.” Her mouth tasted sour. “I can’t control other people’s feelings, that isn’t one I can work on. At all.” Admitting that stung more than anything else. None of the other woman’s issues sounded particularly easy to solve either. Perhaps a random stranger’s would have to suffice. If the resonance between their problems  Lydia sighed. “I’m Lydia Griffin,” she said eventually. Lydia looked down at her finger. “Oh! Thank goodness!” She exclaimed, jerking her finger back. But what had previously appeared as looseness and space to remove her finger and had tightened back to the point of cutting off her circulation in her finger, pinching painfully. “Drat. I should have never let you get that thing near me.”

“But if you don’t find him first, isn’t he gonna find you?” Nell questioned. “Wouldn’t it be best to just take care of the stalker before they get their chance?” At least, that had been her primary philosophy ever since the entire Montgomery situation. “Strike first and maybe then they won’t even have a chance to strike back. Sometimes stalkers just change their minds partway through, I guess. Or something else gets in their way.” Like your sister’s head. “Ah- sorry about almost dying though.” The name took Nell a moment to process, but she found it mixed in with the darker days of Bea’s death and capturing August, realization striking her. “You kept something for my family,” she began cryptically, an appreciative tone in her voice. “Wait- wait- how’d you do that? Get it to loosen? It liked your name or something?” Nell bent to look closely at the finger trap before giving it her own name. “Nell Vural? Penelope Vural. Penelope Nisa Vural.” Each attempt became more impassioned, thought nothing seemed to happen when she continued tugging her finger.

“He has found me. He knows where I live, where I work, who my friends are. He can turn himself to mist, he has a gaze that can freeze anyone on sight. Striking first is easier said than done.” Lydia shuddered. “It’s not a simple solve, is what I’m saying.” She pushed away the comment about her near death, and the finger trap grew tighter again. There was an impulse to share, but Lydia had never been the sort. She’d rather her features were a mirror than a window into her own feelings. When Nell talked about her keeping something, Lydia tilted her head in concern, with no idea what Nell was talking about. Or at least, not until Nell tried to unlock the puzzle with her name. 

 Lydia pursed her lips. A Vural. She had met the tempest in a crystal bottle that was Lucinda Vural, aggressive with a sword with a vicious streak that had only barely left Lydia unscathed. And then there was Beatrice, who was apparently special enough to have caught a Fae’s attention, but was also rotten in every conceivable way, right down to how she had been dead and still ought to be. The Vural name left a rather terrible taste in her mouth. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Our names are hardly problems to be solved, are they? It’s something else.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m just saying maybe it’s something that should be looked into rather than waiting. I didn’t mean it was simple- I just meant it might be worth trying it out. I mean if he’s come after you again won’t you just be waiting for him, then?” But it seemed Nell’s views on the matter weren’t meant to align with Lydia’s. As for Lydia’s apparent disdain after the witch’s mentioning of the favor Luce had taken from the woman, Nell wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. It could very well have been Luce being her usual person-phobic self that made Lydia react the way she did. At least the other woman hadn’t said anything distasteful about the family. That would have been a quick path into sprouting even more tension with Nell. Offhandedly, Nell huffed with frustration, getting more antsy to be free by the second. “I don’t know they could be problems to be solved when your middle name is your mom’s name.” It hadn’t been meant as any heartfelt admission, and had been more meant as a joke than anything, but it seemed good enough for the finger trap as it loosened in the slightest, and Nell reflexively tried to pull her finger out to no avail. “It did it again! What the hell does it want?”

“He can’t reach me anymore,” Lydia said pointedly, shutting down that conversation with the chill of her tone. Similarly, the toy tightened around her finger. Lydia glanced around, as people walked past them. Some were not hesitant to show their stares at the two frustrated women, but quickly backed down under Lydia’s glare. Vural or not, she would have to get along with this spellcaster. “Perhaps we ought to go somewhere else. People are staring.” She said, beginning to shift them towards a cafe where they might sit in a booth while they discussed their… entanglement. “Oh, this loathsome little thing,” Lydia sighed, and tested her hypothesis. She dug into the rawest part of her, pouring salt over this fresh wound and could hardly hide the ache in her voice to this particular stranger. “I knew better than befriending someone who would never be able to fully accept my species, and it hurts bitterly that I let myself love that person anyway. Would you look at that, every therapist in the world has just been validated.” While the toy had loosened at her comments about Remmy, it zipped back up as she made herself sound cynical, an easy defense mechanism for the tears she always felt on the brink of. Unmeasurable strength, her ass.

Nell could have dug her heels in and refused to budge, but was there a point to doing that at a time like this? As it were- they were attached almost literally at the hip, and she was a little hungry… Maybe she could order something in the cafe. “Your species?” Nell echoed, trying to remember if she knew exactly what Lydia was. She wasn’t quite as good at distinguishing fae. They were many and far in between, varied in their natures and appearances. “I mean I know that you’re-” she hesitated, not wanting to say the word ‘fae’ aloud when others were anywhere nearby. “I know the broader term of your species.” That would have to do. “I think it’s...difficult,” Nell began, thinking of her own struggles that had come from growing up as a spellcaster. “If people aren’t a part of it— they can’t ever truly understand. Witches are almost in between and kinda isolated because of it. The normies are afraid of us cause we’re different and unknown and confusing- but we’re also not a part of the non-human supernaturals. I guess what matters is...if they try to understand it or just accept it for how it is, right?” The finger trap loosened just in time for Nell to continue on with her words. “I don’t think it’s your fault for caring, though. Even if it bites us in the ass too much of the time,” she finished with a sardonic chuckle as the toy tightened again. She groaned. “I don’t know what this thing wants us to say. Are we supposed to start braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys or something?”

Lydia nodded half heartedly as Nell compared her experience to spellcasters, not believing it at all, so while Nell’s end of the toy loosened, Lydia’s became tighter. For pity’s sake. Lydia grit her teeth together and tried to care more earnestly. Perhaps she could learn something about Felix here. “No, but that doesn’t make here easier now,” Lydia acquiesced, as the toy loosened more and more. Perhaps this was the right way to go.  “I don’t see the point in talking about boys. Surely we’re both more interesting than any adjacent men,” Lydia’s eyes glittered teasingly, trying to find one light note in a miserable situation. “Clearly, it wants us to share emotional intimacy. Unmeasurable strength indeed. It wants us to be empathetic to each other despite our differences.” Which meant Lydia would have to show this human as much empathy as she might normally show Deirdre. It was going to be a stretch. “I suppose I could tell you about how my father decided to be absent during my teens which resulted in my failure to learn control over my abilities and while our relationship is good now, I still resent that, or how it felt when my sister was reported murdered twelve years ago, but it’s absurd.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Nell agreed readily with a shrug, knowing all too well how true it was that logic generally never eased the pain of a lost friend. Despite her better judgement, Lydia’s comment on boys managed to tug an amused half-smirk to her lips. Unfortunately the expression was quickly wiped away by a grimace, instantly wary of anything that included the words ‘emotional’ and ‘intimacy’, especially when paired with one another and a relative stranger. But if that was the only way out...what choice did they have? “But you learned after?” Nell asked. It was easy to be curious when she was naturally nosy, and the questions weren’t yet geared towards herself. Nell breathed an annoyed sigh, realizing that she’d have to return the favor of admitting something. “My dad was mostly good- but he never stood up for us. My sisters and me. He just let our mom blame me for everything, let her ignore Luce, and make Bea into her mini-me with an Olympic schedule. You said your relationship is good with your dad now, though? How’d you do that?” Surprise flitted over Nell’s features, not expecting the news of a dead sister on Lydia’s part. “Do you know who did it? We just- we finally got the man who killed Bea. And I know they say revenge is never good but- this felt good. You could have that, if you know who it was.”

“I learned eventually, when he was reminded how important it was.” When he had come home to find a cold corpse and Lydia crying in the bathroom. She grit her teeth. There were things she could discuss with humans, but her father really wasn’t one of them. How could they understand when they would put themselves in the shoes of her weak mother, rather than anyone else’s. They would see it as a sin rather than a natural consequence. “I think my father likes the idea of children more than the practicalities, which he forgets every couple decades. He became more interested in spending time with me when I was approaching adulthood. It took a lot of communication, and time, but now we talk several times a month.” Lydia didn’t quite look at Nell as she said that. “Do you resent your mother for her choices?” When the talk turned to dead siblings, Lydia frowned, swallowing as she recalled her recent conversation with Felix, about Bea and necromancy and Lydia’s responses to it. That was another topic she was desperate to steer from.  “Unfortunately, no. The issue with wardens is that they are perfectly crafted for killing us. I’m not a violent person, no one in my family is. We’re all artists. Revenge isn’t something we would normally seek. We wouldn’t stand a chance against a warden, even if they hadn’t destroyed anything that could lead back to them.”

“But you had to forgive him or something, didn’t you? To make it work?” Nell asked, uncertain how the fae had managed to make it work when it came to her family relationships. Had she managed to forget years of resentment? Or did it still live in her- bottled up and pushed aside for the sake of having a father? “Are you glad you talk?” Normally she might not have been so interested in a relative stranger’s emotional state, but if this was what the stupid toy wanted them to do, it’s what they’d have to entertain. Now it was Nell’s turn to look away as mention of her mother surfaced again. She didn’t answer the question directly, perhaps because she wasn’t as sure of the answer as she’d been some months ago. “She took our family from us. Kicked us out of the coven. We can’t even talk to any of them just because we wanted our sister back. And before that it felt like she made it her life’s mission to make me know I was a disappointment.” Nell paused, half-angry and half-sad that she couldn’t simply let her mother go. “But now she said it was to protect us. That she’s done everything for us.” The witch didn’t know how to reconcile those two concepts, nor how to figure out whether or not one outweighed the other. The mention of wardens and violence a conversation Nell was more familiar with, and her shoulders straightened as she spoke again. “But do you want it? The revenge? There are other ways- you could find someone to help.” Nell might even offer to do it herself for the sake of a lost sister. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be too late.”

“I suppose so. He had to forgive me for some things too,” Lydia continued, her jaw tightening for every micrometer of give that the toy gave her. “I’m so glad we’re still talking. We live so long, it can be lonely without family. I do love him, and he loves me.” Lydia forced herself to listen as Nell explained about her own mother, and felt the tiniest sinking feeling of empathy, despite knowing better. Nell’s life was worth less, her issues worth less. She still felt that twinge. “That’s awful. No matter your transgressions, family is family. You can’t just kick each other out because you disagree with their choices.” Her own family hadn’t, but Remmy had. “Sometimes people lie to themselves about their impact. That’s awful. Do you want her back?” Lydia said, rubbing her face in frustration. “How would I find anyone to help for a murder committed twelve years ago?” Lydia sighed, staring at the toy. “I want it more than anything, but deaths from wardens in my family are not rare. We’re not built… others of my species are better at protecting themselves.” She spoke the last bit quietly, looking around the cafe. 

“That makes sense,” Nell nodded as Lydia spoke of their longevity. “I guess family’s really one of the only things that can be constant when you live longer.” But it was still a mystery as to how exactly Lydia had gotten to that point of forgiveness. It would be foolish to think that Nell might find a guide of sorts within them, anyway. Family is family. Lydia’s words caused another prickle of uncertainty to surface in Nell. Did that wisdom go both ways? It was obvious that Lydia meant the words to condemn Nell’s mother, but couldn’t they also be turned around to imply that Nell should forgive her mother? “I don’t know if she even realizes the impact. I don’t know.” That was the only answer she could come up with, uncertainty being the only thing she was sure of when it came to Nisa Vural. “She still won’t talk to us. Not actually. But she did heal me one time when I asked since then.” Nell didn’t know why she was looking for glimmers of hope in a shattered relationship, trying to remind herself that she’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t let her mother hurt her again after the coven had been taken from them. And yet...she couldn’t deny the child that still lived on deep within her, longing for her mother’s love and approval despite refusing to acknowledge it. “I just…I’m tired of it all.” She was tired of the way her mother treated her while also being tired of wondering if things could be different. But mostly she was tired of not knowing the answer. Nell only paused a beat before speaking of the warden and their murder once again, thinking the answer to Lydia’s situation obvious. “You know I’m a bounty hunter. A regular one as well as a supernatural one. And with that comes being a pretty good tracker and stuff like that. I could help find them.” A twinge of sympathy made its way through Nell at Lydia’s hunting lamentations, knowing she’d never know what it was to be hunted as thoroughly as someone like the fae were. 

“That’s even harder. At least my father knew what he did and the consequences of it,” Lydia replied, who kept talking about her father even though it was patently not what she wanted to do. “I’m sorry. Parents should have more introspection than their children. It’s her duty to make amends,” Lydia said softly. Nell’s grief resonated too uncomfortably once again. Empathy she didn’t want to feel as strongly as she did. “Certainly an interesting choice of profession,” Lydia saw the opportunity to get a promise. She felt every spore in her lungs tumbling over themselves to get that promise, latch onto it, and watch how it unfolded. As simple as taking candy from a baby. There were just two problems. The first? Lydia did not want any more trouble with the Vurals ever, she had had enough of them for a lifetime. The second was that using this intensely personal moment for personal gain, confessing secrets neither of them wanted to, felt wrong, fundamentally twisting up inside her right next to the uncomfortable empathy she felt for Nell. “I might or might not take you up on that,” she said softly, and the toy popped right off her finger, and Nell’s too. “Oh!” Lydia gasped with relief.

Nell’s own pleasantly surprised sound was drawn from her as the finger trap released them, and the witch instantly flexed her finger, bending it a few times in delight now that it had been released from its prison. “Oh, hell yeah!” It seemed like the more delicate topic of parents and disappointment was quick to melt away now that there was no obligation to speak of them. “Fuck this little toy- I’m burning the damn thing when I get home.” It took another moment for Nell to realize that Lydia had offered a response when it came to searching for her sister’s killer, and the witch’s head tilted curiously to the side. “It doesn’t have to be a favor or anything like that either if you wanted me to help look for the killer. I’m usually good for my word all on its own. Especially for things like this.” But now that she was free and remembering the all too personal things she’d shared with Lydia— Nell was eager to depart. “Just message me or whatever if you have questions about it.”

“That would be wise,” Lydia said, picking up her bag with an awkward closed mouth smile, at first assuming that the moment the trap was gone, their little agreements would be over. Buut Nell made the offer again, clearly enough that Lydia paused, looking the spellcaster over again. She considered it, which surprised Lydia even more. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lydia said with a smile, pulling her coat close herself. She acted as if she was still unsure, but already, the threads of an idea were beginning to form in her mind. A possibility she had thrown away years ago. She’d play it cool, maybe wait a week, but the temptation was there. If Nell Vural could defy death, what else might she do? “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

[lovehugsandcandy]

Mermaid Magic (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N: Apparently, if you want something done, you better do it yourself (note: not done well. just done). Based off the amazing idea where MC is a mermaid and Colt is an idiot from @escanorelyon, here. Thank you for letting me write this and for coming up with such a delicious concept. Anyone, if you want to put your own spin on the idea, I would love to see what you come up with! Tag me!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~3,000 words

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (Swearing?)

Summary: Is the surprise that there’s a mermaid? Or is the surprise that it takes him so long to figure it all out?

The plunge is weightless, terrifyingly familiar, and his swift reentry to earth, via splash into the Pacific so deep his ears roar with the pressure, never fails to take his breath away. As Colt kicks back to the surface, salt water around him churning with every stroke, he can almost pretend it has taken his stress away, a complete distraction from the rationale behind his trip to LA.

He emerges and shakes the sea from his hair, swiping at the water dripping from his nose and tonguing at his tingling lips. It’s peaceful here, tranquil, miles away from the confrontation he knows awaits. The cliff had always been the opposite of his home life, peace instead of strife, calm instead of stress, and the trips had always been a respite from the turmoil of his youth. After being forced to make the leap time and time again, he came to see this place as a haven of solitude, where he could be alone and process whatever shithole situation he was currently in.

A sudden splash to his left makes him realize his thoughts of solitude were ill-informed.

“Hello?” He spins, water rippling around him, eyes darting around the surface to assess whatever danger lay beneath.

But it doesn’t look like danger as a face slowly comes into view, chestnut hair slowly rising through the sea. She blinks at him, eyes glowing almost otherworldly in the sunlight, and she purses her lips. She looks wary, scared, as if he was the one who impinged on her peaceful time. “Hi.”

“How the hell did you get here?” He cranes his neck up at the cliff; there were no other cars there when he arrived and he sure as hell would have heard someone else diving into the water. And it’s inaccessible from the sides, cliff towering over them, steep rock jutting out in treacherous points, against which the Pacific crashed in rhythmic pulses booming into the sea air. “This is my spot.”

Her plush lips fall open. “Your spot?” she sputters incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was eight.”

“I’ve been coming here forever. You don’t own this spot, you utter buffoon!” She swims closer, glaring at him, and, had he less experience in dealing with the rage of others, he might have stood down; however, her anger only fuels his.

“How did you even get here? I was swimming here first.”

“You don’t own the sea and you were not here first!” Her movements are choppy with anger as she gets closer, but Colt doesn’t retreat, treading water and glaring defiantly back. “I’ve been here…” Her diatribe fades into the surf as he notices that she is being followed, graceful teal fin swimming after her, flapping over the water.

“Umm, “ he interrupts, “something’s behind you.”

“What?” She spins, and the tail does too, swirling around her, too close to be a normal fish. It doesn’t look like a normal anything, swaying just over the waves, matching her every motion movement-for-movement.

His heart stops and, before he can think, he ducks under the water, eyes stinging as he forces them open. It has to be a trick of the light, some weird fever dream. Maybe he died leaping from the cliff. Maybe he isn’t even in LA, instead still lying in his dorm room having talked himself out of this adventure of paternal reunion. Because anything would make more sense than what he was seeing. 

For, in front of his eyes, there is a fucking tail where her legs should be, swirling gracefully and leaving tiny ripples in its wake. The scales glisten, catching the sunlight filtering through the ocean, and it is strangely compelling: unnatural, alien, gorgeous. He opens his mouth and swallows a gulp of salt water, sputtering to the surface to hack and cough and try to get air to his lungs.

When he can finally see again, she is gaping at him, eyes wide, breath coming in uncertain pants. “Wait…” she murmurs weakly, “I can explain-”

“Oh my God.” He can barely believe his eyes but, at the terrified look on her face, he realizes he wasn’t seeing things. “You’re a mermaid.”

~~~~~

The plan had been simple: get to LA, go to the sideshow, have the requisite argument with his father, probably punctuated by a screaming match at the garage, and then fight his way into the crew and prove his worth.

But everything had changed after his leap into the water, when he had met a goddamned mermaid, a fucking sea creature, floating outside the PCH like she belonged in California, not in the dusty tomes of some piece of shit folklore.

Make no mistake, he still wanted to fight his way back into his father’s good graces (assuming Teppei possessed good grace, Colt would be content with begrudging acceptance instead). But now, he was desperate to solve the mystery. He had begged her to stay, voice dipping into embarrassingly weak pleas, but she had panicked and leapt into the waves, tail flitting behind her in a merry farewell as she fled.

He couldn’t let that be the last time he saw her; he had to talk to her again. He was so distracted, wandering around the sideshow with his mind on the sea, that he almost walked straight into a couple, wandering the cars side-by-side and meandering through the crowd.

“Watch where you’re going,” he shot out, halfheartedly, more instinct than conscious thought. 

“You watch where you’re going.” The kid turned, swinging his hair out of his eyes to size Colt up. He rolled his eyes. Did this punk really want to start something here? Of all places?

The girl in front of him stops short as well but, as soon as she turns, she flinches, damp hair settling in haphazard waves around her fine features as she gawks at him, eyes wide. They gleam, large in her face, an almost otherworldly glow from the dance floor strobe lights, and she looks terrified. Colt scoffs; he might rough up her man, but he wouldn’t lay hands on this tiny brunette. He’s not that much of a prick.

She stares at him and takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she studies him. He blinks back, waiting, never dropping the gaze. Finally, she speaks. “Ummm....Hi?”

With the sour intensity painting her features, he expected a better opening line. “What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She’s still staring at him in terror, eyes glassy, face pale. 

“What? Ummm… you don’t…” Her tongue pokes out to wet her trembling lips and he follows the movement before remembering the asshole perched next to her. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Sorry,” he scoffs, already bored. “I don’t pay attention to every single pair of losers that has the audacity to get in my way.” He shakes his head and stalks off, mind already returning to the waves and the shadow of a tail underneath the surface.

~~~~~ 

He is absolutely, completely, world-endingly obsessed.

Colt is no stranger to obsession (motorcycles, video games, reclaiming his place as rightful heir through fists and sweat and blood) but his desperate need to see the mermaid is bordering on insanity. He leaps from the cliff, again and again and again, varying hour of day and day of week based on a detailed spreadsheet he drafted to give him the best probability to see her again. The middle of the day is fruitless, depths of the sea a brilliant reprieve from the sun sweltering overhead, but he doesn’t even notice, feeling only dismay when she doesn’t appear. The middle of the night is no better, moon lighting a solemn path through the trees as its glow echoes softly over the lapping waves, but still no mermaid.

He is starting to lose hope, despair seeping its way into his heart, when he spies a familiar head of hair in the evening sunset.

“It’s you,” he breathes and swims closer, drawn to her in a way that he doesn’t want to examine too hard.

“Hi.”

“I’ve been trying to find you, I’ve been coming here almost every day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that where you’ve been going?”

“What?”

“When you take off….” she opens her mouth and closes it again, eyes scrutinizing him as if he were a puzzle to be deciphered and conquered. “This is where you go?”

“What?”

“When you…” she trails off before shaking her head, dismissively. “Never mind. You are an idiot.”

He ignores the insult as he takes her in, the water tracing gentle paths down her features, the tail glowing luminescent behind her, reflecting the waning rays of sun dipping over the ocean. “Who are you? How did you get here? Where are you from?”

“You are really curious about me.” She smiles sanguinely and her tail flips behind her. Colt feels lightheaded.

“You have no idea.” 

“I’m from LA obviously,” she giggles and the tilt of her laugh pulls him closer, legs kicking out until he is treading water directly in front of her.

“What, a secret coven of mermaids hidden in the Hills?”

She laughs and his fingers twitch, aching to reach out and touch the droplet heavy on her cheek. “Covens are for witches.”

“Do you mean the mythical kind? Do they also live in LA? Or are you referring to the lady who runs the bodega on 92nd cuz she is a real witch?”

She laughs again and he would do anything, absolutely anything, to hear the sound again. “I’m sure you may have instigated something there.”

“Maybe…” The smile still plays on her lips; there is so much he wants to ask, so much he needs to know. 

“I can’t believe there are mermaids. Damn.” A sudden thought hits him; he considered this his secret but maybe it wasn’t just his. “Does anyone else know about you?”

“What? I guess…My dad…” She looks past him, gazing far away at something only she can see. “He knows but he…he doesn’t understand what it’s like. What I’m like.”

Her eyes suddenly water with something more painful than the sea and Colt is stuck by the fact that even mermaids have human problems. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I know you do, Colt.”

“Wait...How did you know my name?”

She rolls her eyes, and the sadness vanishes, replaced by the familiar teasing grin, the sense that she knows some secret that he can’t comprehend. “You are a goddamn…It’s mermaid magic, Colt. Mermaid magic.”

~~~~~~

He spends less and less time at the shop.

He’s sure his father is delighted, but he’s also sure Pop harbors secret, unnecessary concerns about his whereabouts. The crew seems the same as when he was shipped out east, as bumbling as ever, but now when he desperately escapes from the crowd, it is with purpose. He yearns to catch yet another glimpse of the girl, tail fleeting in the water, smirk on her face as they banter back and forth.

He isn’t interested in anything but the mermaid. 

Except maybe one thing. One person.

The girl from the sideshow, Ellie, has somehow integrated herself into the crew. At first, he was doubtful, wondering how a careful valedictorian could fit in with a group of hardened thieves, but she seemed to integrate seamlessly into the group, her intelligence a compliment to a crew that was severely lacking.

And apparently even he found it hard to reject her, her toughness and drive reminding him of himself. She’s fast on her feet; they have traded almost infinite barbs, various interchanges and insults, her quick wit keeping pace even with his own. He's also caught her glancing his way, peeking glances from across the shop, interest and confusion painting her face. He looks at her as well, more than he would admit, and he tells himself it is solely curiosity. Sure, she's attractive, but she's also rejecting her cozy home for a shadowed existence in a crew on the edge. Of course, he's curious.

Which is how he finds himself escorting her to her driver’s test which, obviously, she passed with flying colors. Beaming with pride, she insists on using her new paper permit to drive them back to the garage, hands confidently gripping the steering wheel as he watches the highway fly by.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

He gapes at her. The insult is familiar; it’s far from the first time she called him that, but it seems rather random this time. “Pot, meet kettle,” he huffs.

“You are just so dumb.” She only smiles wider. “You don’t see what’s right in front of your face.”

“I see another idiot who is gonna waste twenty minutes if she misses the off-ramp.”

”Whatever,” she sighs and dutifully puts her blinker on, plush lips pursing at him. “You think you’re so smart, with your stealthy getaways, your little secret. You’re nowhere near as smart as you think you are.”

“What are you-” His voice fades away as his mind races. How did she know-? She couldn’t know. Right? He hasn’t told anyone about the mermaid, about his trips to the cliff, about flying though the air to find her, waiting for him, wet skin glowing in the setting sun.

“I know you have a secret…” She glances over then quickly averts her eyes to the road. “Maybe I do, too.”

“Ha. Your secret is that you got mixed up in a life of crime.”

“And your secret is even more insane.”

He stares at her, trying to figure out what exactly she knows, but she only winks at him, throwing her car in park. “What are you…” he trails off.

“What’s the one thing you want more than anything?” Her lips play in a sly smirk and he can’t help but incline his head towards her. Colt wants, God, he wants all the time. He is a perpetual raging ball of want, desperate for things he can’t have-access to his father’s life, a place in the crew, the trust of a mermaid-all of it swirling in his mind but, right now, the one thing he wants is to lean even closer, to capture Ellie’s lips in his own and bite at her snarky smile until his name on her lips is the only thing she herself wants.

He inhales, sharp, the desire pulsing through him sharp as a splash of water over his face. He is suddenly as cold as the sea.

“You’ve almost got it,” she inches closer and her eyes positively gleam, brilliantly reflecting the dashboard indicators, and she gives him one last smirk before pulling away, springing out of the seat and slamming the door behind her.

Now that she has moved, Colt feels like he can finally breathe, air rushing into his lungs. It smells slightly of salt, as if the sea breeze had made it all the way to Gramercy Park, even through the closed windows. Strange.

~~~~~

“You are an idiot,” she sings, voice high over the surf.

They splash together in the waves and he peppers the mermaid with questions, most of which she answers in between diving under the surf to pop up behind him, hair swirling as he stutters. Every time they meet up, he has more questions, and she indulges him with a small grin. He has learned that unicorns don’t exist, she has never seen an actual sea monster, and, apparently, her overprotective father is so worried about a human finding out about her that he used to put a GPS locator on her phone.

“But how do you have a phone?”

“Idiot!!! How are you so-urgh!” She blows bubbles through full lips and laughs. “Everyone has a phone.”

“What, you just have a pocket in your tail?” He dives, reaching out to slowly caress the scales under the surface. They are smooth to the touch, like sea glass or river rocks, glowing incandescent in the water. She swats at him, tail flicking playfully, and he swims after it, giving chase until his lungs burn and he needs to emerge, sucking in oxygen.

“I told you, I’m not always a mermaid.”

“So you go to school? Like normal?”

She blinks slowly at him, eyes imploring. “I’m in high school. A senior. I’m gonna be the valedictorian of my class.”

“That’s why you think I’m an idiot, because you’re a nerdy smartypants.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nope. Not why I think you’re an idiot, Colt.”

“Will I ever get to see you as a human?”

“Ummm…” She swallows, hard, and a flash of terror crosses her face. His stomach swoops, deja vu hinting at something in his mind, but she continues before he can examine the sensation. “I don’t know. Can I trust you?”

“I’ve kept your secret so far.”

“You have,” she avers with certainty, nodding to herself. “You have.” She looks around at the ocean, deep in thought and chewing on her lips, before she looks at him resolutely. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

“Now?”

She nods again and ducks under the waves, swimming out in front of him, slowly, so his clumsy human feet can follow her to a shadowy cove hidden in the cliff side. He walks out onto a small strip of sand as she pulls herself up, arms propelling her forward as her tail glistens and picks up damp granules of warm sand.

“Wait here. Close your eyes.”

“Fine,” he huffs but dutifully listens, hearing her slither behind a rock. There’s a quiet rustling, movement, fabric draping over wet skin; he can almost imagine her behind the rock, skin wet from the ocean, salt clinging to every inch his tongue could chase. He swallows the flash of heat down.

“Ok.” Her voice trembles and she sounds intensely nervous, though Colt can’t figure out why. “You can open your eyes.”

He does and, standing right in front of him, the mermaid is clad in jeans and a tank top. Her dark hair is sopping wet as she rings it out, strands tangling over her fingers and draping over her shoulder. He steps closer in shock. “You have legs!”

She blinks at him again, dumbfounded. “You are as dumb as these rocks.”

He is about to retort when she reaches down to grasp a sweatshirt, sliding the familiar blue over her head, rocking back on her heels and crossing her arms right below where the white lettering spells out LANGSTON. 

“Holy shit-”

“I told you you were an idiot.”

“I am so stupid. I am so fucking stupid.”

“Wow, we actually agree on something.” She smiles and he can’t stop his fingers from reaching out to grasp her hips, Ellie’s human hips.

When she kisses him, she tastes like the sea.

.

Tags

Perma @desireepow-1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves @jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices​  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever​ @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[dragonrajafanfiction]

First Day of School

This is just something that came to my head and I figured I’d write it down before I got it... Ru’Yi’s first day at Cassell College. Please enjoy.

======================

Ru’Yi pulled her shoulder bag a bit higher and she took a deep breath. Her parents stood side by side in the doorway of the cozy Chicago Townhouse.

“Okay... I ... guess I’ll see you on spring break?” Ru’Yi said, shrugging.

“Call us when you get there.” Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

It was January 10th, the official start of Spring 2020 semester. Her father, Chu Zihang, and mother, Bai Meixiu, had enrolled her this year even though her dragonblood had been awakened all her life and she already knew her Soul Skill. She wasn’t going there to learn Dragonslaying or to become the hero of the world. It was just that her father and mother wanted her to have the best possible education among people like her. 

Hybrids.

Unlike most hybrids, she didn’t grow up feeling the Blood Cry. She knew exactly who she was. Her father, Chu Zihang, was an A-rank powerhouse who had mastered the notoriously uncontrollable Jun-Yan - Royal Fire. He could summon flames so hot they could melt glass and metal. 

Not only that, he knew the secret technique of Blood Rage, that could forcibly increase his purity to dangerous levels. He was a near unstoppable force. Not only that, he was peerless in martial arts and hacking. He was also very handsome, with dark hair, pale skin, and mysteriously golden eyes.

Her mother, Bai Meixiu, was even higher, Rank-S with three Souls Skills under her belt. She could Teleport anywhere she could visualize, summon blades of light and control them with a thought. But most terrifyingly, she could control the dragonblood purity of other hybrids. No Hybrid could ever stand before Ru’Yi’s mother without express permission. But looking at her, she was a petite black woman, well dressed and polite, who loved to dance.

To Ru’Yi, they were just mom and dad.

“One more thing...” Chu Zihang looked at his daughter, his expression serious.

“Yes, Dad?”

“If you ever meet a boy...” His eyes seem to glow behind the dark glasses. “I need you to tell me right away.”

“Zihang!” Meixiu protested. “Can you not! She’s old enough to make her own decisions!”

“It’s not that I want to influence your decisions... I just want to know about him. What’s his name? Where is he from! I want to know everything about this boy!” Zihang looked into her eyes with a sense of near desperation.

Ru’Yi gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t worry, Dad, I don’t think boys will be a big issue...”

Ru’Yi sighed to herself. Her father and mother were quite famous. Even while they toured the campus, most of the boys took on a ‘look and don’t touch’ posture, practically saluting in reverence to her father and not even looking at her. Who wants to date Chu Zihang’s daughter?

“Anyway, I’ll call you when I get there!”

The cab blew the horn, signaling his arrival. She gave her parents one last wave before heading away.

She got into the cab and looked up at the driver. “Subway station please!”

She put in her earbuds and started listening to her favorite song. She looked out the window. Her parents were waving her good bye. They kept waving.

She smiled, chest filling with excitement, she started to bounce and sing, giving finger guns to people out on the street. For the first half of her life, she lived isolated in Thailand. Her family lived far away because they wanted to get away from the life they had before, full of conflict and violence. Her father and mother only told her a little about how her life began, in chaos, filled with evil people who pursued them.

But things were different now. The evil was vanquished and the people running the school were their friends. They could finally live in peace. 

But once Ru’Yi turned 14, they realized that living on an isolated island wasn’t good for her so they returned to the city.

Ru’Yi loved it. She could go shopping every day, there was a neighborhood of kids her age instead of just a few. And there were burritos and sushi and ramen! So much good food! She never wanted to go back to living on an island again.

The cab stopped across from the entrance to the station and she paid the fare and got out, still humming to herself. She waited for the light to turn and stepped off the curb to cross.

The sudden sound of screeching tires made her turn and look. Her vision was full of the radiator and bright headlights of a truck. It was too late to get out of the way. The driver looked into her eyes and realized what was about to happen.

Ru’Yi closed her eyes, waiting for the impact.

But the impact never came. She opened her eyes and she was off her feet, in the embrace of a stranger.

She looked up into a pair of brown eyes who looked down at her.

 “Oh my gosh! That was close! Thank you so much!” She gasped.

“No need to thank me.” His voice was deep. He was taller, with brown hair and was wearing a camel colored coat. “Are you alright?”

“Yes... thanks to you.” 

He set her down safely on the sidewalk and quickly started to walk away.

“Wait! What’s your name!” She ran after him as he descended the stairs to the subway. When she reached the stairs, he was gone.

She kept looking for him, scanning her fare card and wandering the platform. But he was nowhere to be found.

She had to catch her train.

She turned and made her way back to the platform to wait. She sat down on the bench, feeling her heart rate return to normal. She could have died! He must have been really fast to get her out of the way of the truck. She had frozen like a... well... like a deer in the headlights!

She heard the squeal of a train’s brakes. A short train, sleek like a bullet and displaying the World Tree symbol of Cassell pulled into the station in front of her. A man in a corduroy green uniform and formal top hat stepped out and bowed deeply. “Miss Chu. Your train has arrived.”

“My train?”

“Yes. You have been ruled a preliminary S-Rank hybrid. Therefore, the S-rank train has come to pick you up.” 

She looked at it. It looked to only have two cars, the engine and the passenger car. People were staring at her, wondering who she had to be to get her own train.

Ru’Yi stood up, stunned. She carried herself and her luggage, following the man in the uniform. She stepped into plush surroundings. The train was wood paneled on the interior, full of fresh flowers and potpourri. There was even a bottle of wine waiting for her in the cooler.

She sat down in the red velvet seat, her mind still reeling from her close call and the mysterious man who saved her.

“Can I get you anything else?” The man asked.

“Oh... are there any other hybrids coming today?” She asked.

“Oh, quite a few! But you’re the only S among them.” He gave her a kind smile.

She nodded. “Okay...”

The train took off silently increasing to incredible speed out of  the station. They disappeared into the tunnel, blazing down the usual route all trains took until it split off into its own track, aiming directly for a dense forest specially planted as cover for the route to Cassel College.

The trees were a blur of brown, black and green. She gathered her bags to herself. Her dad and mom had taken this same route and now she was going too. Like generations of Hybrids before her, Ru’Yi would be taking her own journey.

She burst into blinding light and the campus came into view, stately buildings up an artificial hillside split by canals and bridges. She was finally here!

The train squealed to a halt and the doors slid open.

Ru’Yi stood in confusion as hundreds of students milled everywhere, looking down at applications and up at signs pointing them where to go.

She patted her pockets. Right, she would need her application! She pulled the white sheet of paper out. “Please report to professor Miranis in room AB5 of the Hall of Valor...” She said to herself. She turned to walk and look for a sign for the sign of the Hall of Valor. 

She immediately collided with someone, falling backwards.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” came a distraught voice.

Ru’Yi gathered herself up, “It’s okay! Are you okay?” 

The dark haired young man was patting around the ground. His sunglasses were resting nearby him. She quickly gathered them up before someone could step on them.

“Here. Here you are.” She handed them to him. 

He reached out blindly. His eyes were a gorgeous violet hue that Ru’Yi had never seen before, the color of lavender. But they stared blankly into the distance.

He was blind.

She quickly got him to his feet. “Are you looking for Valor Hall?” She asked him.

“Yes. Actually. Can you help me find it?” He laughed a bit nervous. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Not at all.” She put the glasses in his hand. 

“Someone said it was this way.” 

She looked in the direction he was facing and saw the sign.  “They were right. Are you here by yourself? Shouldn’t someone be with you?” She took his elbow and walked slowly but steadily.

He stammered, panting with exertion. “Well... I mean, yes but... like... it wouldn’t matter really. I have to get used to being blind on my own. It’s... kind of a long story, but ... my Soul Skill allows me to see. Without it, I can’t. They don’t let you use Soul Skills here so.. it’s kinda hopeless.”

“Wait... you could see before you got here?”

“Yes. Well... yes...” He frowned a bit. “I knew my vision would be affected but not this much. “

“Then you can’t read braille or anything? How are you going to study?”

“Books on tape?”

“Oh my goodness.” She put her hand on her face.

“My name’s Tom by the way. Thomas Allman. And you?”

“Chu... Chu Ru’yi.”

“Chu...” He suddenly stopped. “Wait. Chu Ru’Yi? Is your dad Chu Zihang?” His eyes widened.

“Yes...” Ru’Yi sighed. 

“Oh wow! I... I’m so sorry I ran into you but... I’m so happy I ran into you! I’m a big fan!” An excited grin wreathed his face. “I’ve admired him ever since I was little. The unquenchable Golden Pupils!”

Yes, the golden light never left her father’s eyes. It was more of a burden than an asset though. Many people found his eyes terrifying, and for hybrids especially, those eyes had the effect of recalling to their minds the sacred words of the Dark King, Imperium, which gave people the urge to kneel before him. It was an unsettling feeling. Chu Zihang wore sunglasses and contacts to prevent people from feeling discomfort around him.

“See I kind of have the same problem.” Thomas explained.

“What do you mean? Your eyes aren’t yellow.”

“They are when I use my Soul Skill and I use my Soul Skill to see!” He explained.

“Oh... that’s right!”

“I have to wear contacts and sunglasses and things but... the contacts dry my eyes out so bad! Can you ask your dad what he wears? … Which brand?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

He started to blush bright red. “I still can’t believe I met you on my first day. I’m really super lucky!”

Ru’Yi gave a little laugh, unsure of what to say.

[popwasabi]

Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

 “Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU. 

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

 The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons. 

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

 “Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

  Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y’all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant. 

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

[local-void-creature-izzy]

Considering I am now XueXiao trash here’s another take on the second part (and i guess the first part as well) of my fic. Also I am working and planning a whole multi chapter fic with a modern au created by me but I’m still working some things out, you’ll know when i have started when i start giving bios for the characters I’m using in that au. Anyways onward to this second version:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who’s that with him?” Song Lan asked the young girl that lead him through coffin town even though he already knew who that was sitting all too comfortably on Xingchen’s lap.

“Hm? Oh you mean Chengmei? He’s been with us for a while now, few years actually. Daozhang and I found him nearly dead on the side of the road and Daozhang saved him. They are actually cultivation partners whatever that means. Chengmei told me its like being married but stronger.” Said Qing to the stranger she brought with her.

Song Lan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He tried not to show it though and continued questioning Qing. “And what do you know about this Chengmei if you don’t mind me asking?” He said. “Your a strange Daozhang but I know his name is actually Xue Yang, Chengmei is his courtesy name. Only Daozhang is allowed to call him by his birth name. I know Chengmei likes sweets and can act very bratty and childish but that’s only when he wants something. I know he was a bad person before he met us but he’s changed and hasn’t committed a crime since. And I know Daozhang loves him very much, I see it in the way he looks at him.” Qing said very confidently, causing even more shock to go through Song Lan.

“H-He can see? Xiao Xingchen can see?” He questioned, almost not believing it. “Yes he can see strange Daozhang. Chengmei created a technique that allows the caster to give something up of themselves in exchange for whatever they wish to give the other person. Chengmei gave up his voice to restore Daozhang eyes, he can still talk but it’s painful at times and it’s slowly getting worse. I think that’s why Daozhang is so protective and rarely leaves his side, I think Daozhang is scared that if he leaves and comes back...that Chengmei’s voice will be permanently gone and he’ll never hear that last I love you from him. Well I’ll leave you to it strange Daozhang, I’m returning to the market.” Said Qing as she turned around and left. Neither aware that Xue heard the whole conversation.

Xue could hear Song Lan slowly approaching so he wait until Song Lan was in earshot before speaking. “You were so rough last night XingXing. I can barely feel anything from the waist down.” He pouted, but not before noticing how Song Lan froze in place. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say my husband was jealous. Was it the girl at the shop? Or the guy on the way back?” He teased.

“I have no reason to be jealous A-Yang. Because you are mine. And if I was, well I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” Xingchen said with that ever so rare smirk, Xue lightly whacked him on the arm while blushing red. “Yah for as sweet and kind and caring you are, you are very dirty minded when you want to be-“ Xue cut himself off, he felt a pain in his chest before the coughing fit started up, immediately Xingchen was pulling Xue closer and was worried. “A-Yang is it happening again? Do you need your medicine?” He asked.

“I-I’m fine XingXing....It’s just a coughing fi-“ Again he couldn’t finish his sentence because the coughing out worse, and it just kept on going until finally he coughed up blood. “A-Yang you are not fine, it’s getting bad again.” Xingchen said as he picked up Xue bridal style and carried him inside to their home, Song Lan’s presence completely unnoticed by him. He placed Xue onto the bed and went to grab some towels and his medicine.

Once he had them, he began cleaning Xue’s hands. “You shouldn’t force yourself to speak Xue if its starts hurting, I hate seeing you like this.” Xingchen said, worried laced in his tone. The blood quickly cleaned up and he gave Xue the medicine that had been helping with the pain. “Wait here okay, I’m going to go get Qing. It’s getting late.”

Xue just nodded in response and watched as his husband walked out the door. It was quiet for about 5 seconds before the door was kicked in. “Xue Yang.” Said Song Lan, as for Xue he immediately grabbed his sword. “I don’t know how you did it but you managed to trick them into thinking you’ve actually changed. I give you props on that, but your game ends here.” Song Lan drew his sword and made his way to attack Xue, determined to end his life here and now. Of course he knew it wasn’t going to be easy as Xue immediately blocked his attack and sent him flying into the table behind him.

Song Lan prepared for an attack as he quickly tried to stand but instead Xue made a run for the now busted door and ran straight towards the gate of the town. But Song Lan wouldn’t allow him to escape, he chased after him and sent attack after attack but Xue blocked and dodged them all. “Leave me alone Song Lan!” Xue yelled, his voice hoarse from the medicine and coughing fit he had, but Song Lan wasn’t letting up. If this keeps up then sooner rather than later Song Lan will find out the other thing Xue gave up to restore Xingchen’s eyes. “I said...LEAVE ME ALONE!” Xue yelled louder and knocked Song Lan back with the strongest kick he could muster, sending him flying into one of the empty homes.

Xue took this chance and ran past the gates of coffin town and into the forest. He’ll be fine, he was going to be just fine. He just had to make it to Xingchen before Song Lan caught up with him. “Xingchen! XINGCHEN WHERE ARE YOU!” He yelled, voice completely destroying him but he didn’t care, he had to find his husband. He continued running through the forest, not daring to stop, when he finally saw them in the distance and relief engulfed his body. “XINGXING! XING-“ Blood then spilled from his mouth, he gasped, he tried speaking but no words came out. Merely gargled noises.

‘No...Nononononono! Not now! Please not now!’ He panicked in his mind, his voice can’t have given out on him now. But no matter how many times he tried speaking, no words came out and soon the noises stopped all together and no sound at all came from him. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, instead he continued running towards them and didn’t stop until he threw himself into Xingchen’s arm. “Xue? A-Yang what’s wrong? Your shaking.” Xingchen questioned. Xue couldn’t tell him though, he rapidly tapped his throat and tried mouthing words out. “A-Yang....No your voice-“ Xingchen was cut off by a yell behind Xue and he instantly pushed Xue behind him and blocked the oncoming attack, and he was not expecting the one that did it. “S-Song Lan...?” His voice going weak on him as well.

“Xiao Xingchen, please move. You are being tricked by that man. That is Xue Yang, he must be punished and killed.” Song Lan said, but Xingchen refused to move. “Song Lan please calm down, we can talk this out. I will not move.” Xingchen said. But Song Lan didn’t want to hear it and that’s when the fight broke out.

Xue saw them fighting as Qing tried to clean the blood and keep him away from getting involved but it was like it was all happening so slow, they were yelling at each other and saying things but Xue couldn’t hear any of it, his ears were ringing. It felt like hours they fought until Song Lan got behind Xingchen and used a talisman to freeze him in place. “I’m sorry Xiao Xingchen but this must be done...” Song Lan said and made his way to Xue and he was approaching fast. Qing jumped in between them to try to stop Song Lan but Xue refused to let her get killed for his sake.

Just as she prepared for the impact of the sword, Xue pushed her back and blocked it with his double bladed sword, he had been trying so hard to avoid using it anymore than he should but it was too late now. Now not only was blood spilling from his mouth, but now it fell from his nose. “You...You don’t have a golden core...?” Song Lan questioned.

Xue sent him flying and the over-usage of what little spiritual energy he had left was catching up to him, his legs gave out on him and he was hacking up even more blood. “Chengmei!” Qing yelled, she bent down in front of him and blocked Song Lan off. “Strange Daozhang please stop! Chengmei is not a threat! We know who he is and what he has done in the past but that doesn’t define him anymore! He’s been through too much and now he can no longer speak!” She yelled.

“Your very young so I understand if you don’t fully know the situation. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill this demon.” He said, and Qing was quick to respond. “Because he is with child! Yeah, you cultivators have so many different tailsmens and techniques so why not one that allows men to bare children. You wouldn’t dare kill an unborn child now would you?” She asked trying to buy time with her little trick, and while Song Lan was at a lost for words Xue quietly pulled out his Stygian Tiger Amulet. Xingchen saw this and forced every nerve in his body to break free from the talisman, he succeeded despite the blood he was coughing up. 

“A-YANG DON’T!” Xingchen yelled, but before anyone of them could move...Xue used it. Those all familiar black vein like markings appeared up his neck and it was obvious it was painful for him to use it with so little spiritual energy. Xue used to it lift up Song Lan and threw him against a tree, hard enough to knock him out in the least. 

It finally ended, both the fight...and him. Xue felt very lightheaded and his legs gave out on him once again but this time he didn’t hit the floor, Xingchen caught him before he could. “Hey, hey stay with me A-Yang. Its going to be okay, everything is going to be fine.” Xingchen said, his arms trembling as he held Xue close to him. Qing was also trembling out of her mind, she finally had a family and she was about to lose it. “Chengmei if you die now I’ll never f-forgive you!” She said through tears.

Xue gave a gentle smile to both, he put the amulet in Xingchen’s hand along with a spirit pouch, the injuries that Song Lan inflicted on him and the over usage of his spirit energy was catching up to him. With a heavy shaking hand, he pulled Xingchen down into a kiss. It was gentle and soft and so fragile yet held so much emotion behind it. And then it ended, Xue gave his last breathe, the light disappeared from his eyes...he was gone. “No...Nonononononono A-Yang stay with us! A-Yang please!” Xingchen yelled but it was too late, Xue Yang was no more.

It broke him, he let a bloodcurdling scream that would shake anyone to their core. “D-Daozhang what about the things he gave you, I heard h-him give you something.” Qing managed to get out through the flood of tears that spilled down her face. And she was right, Xue gave him a spirit pouch so he quickly used to capture Xue Yang’s spirit before it could disappear and when he caught it...it broke him more.

Because the soul that was known as Xue Yang was shattered into multiple tiny pieces beyond repair expect for one person....Wei Wuxian aka the Yiling Laozu.

[moneysourceyt]

My Personal Experience With John Crestani’s Super Affiliate System

How It All Started

It all started on one weekend when I was scrolling on my Twitter timeline. My attention was drawn to this one retweet from one of my friends on Twitter. He had retweeted a tweet by John Crestani. I don’t remember much about what exactly the tweet was all about but it was something in the line of “financial freedom” and “making passive income.” I guess I was a little too excited to pay attention to the details.

So, I clicked on the link provided and found myself on what looked like a well-crafted landing page. On this page, John shared lots of information regarding a system that he had discovered and one that he believed could empower beginner and intermediate affiliate marketers.

I wasn’t new to affiliate marketing at that time. The first time I heard of it was back in 2014 when I was doing some online research on how to make money online. After sifting through dozens of scams, I finally managed to sign up for the Amazon Associate program.

Once my account was approved, I simply went to my back-end, picked a few banner codes and pasted them on my blog. At that time, I didn’t know much about targeting the right audience and the need for being niche specific.

So, as fate would have it, my affiliate marketing dream hit a snag. My account was closed within 90 days and that’s because despite delivering some clicks, no one was buying through my affiliate links. To cut the long story short, I completely gave up on the idea of making money online by getting random strangers to make purchases through some goddamn links.

I chose to stick to my day job which to be honest I didn’t like that much. But as any other person looking to pay the bills would do, I had to keep going to the office, deal with numerous client calls and sit in a dimly lit cubicle all day.

So, when I came across John Crestani’s tweet and eventually the landing page, my dream of being independent once again came back to life.

Who Is John Crestani

The reason John grabbed my attention is that he had a story that was almost similar to mine. He was once stuck in a boring day job but unfortunately, for him, he got fired without a clear exit strategy. I can only imagine if I was the one in such a situation. How would I pay my rent? How would I convince my daughter that there was no food in the house or money to keep the AC working?

But John somehow managed to go through it all, effectively building a $500k business from scratch. Having seen it all, John seeks to help you and me learn the tricks and techniques it took him years to master.

I really liked how genuine he sounded but, to be honest, I was still a bit skeptical. That’s because John kept talking about his current affluent life. I even peeped into his Instagram and Facebook pages and realized that he frequently posts photos of himself standing next to Lamborghini’s. Why do you need a Lambo to sell a $47 course?

I am not a fun of marketing tactics that involve showing off what one owns or drives. If anything, it’s always possible to rent a Lambo and fool people on social media that it’s all yours.

In my opinion, if John could spare us all the stuff about his personal life, he can be a bit more convincing and authoritative. Otherwise, one might mistake him for a scammer despite the fact that he’s selling a really good course.

How It Works

So, I started out by signing up for the Internet Jetset program. It’s a subscription-based service which goes for $47. This program comprises some awesome lessons for beginners. In particular, it walks you through some awesome ways to generate valuable traffic without spending a dime.

These are strategies that other marketers hardly talk about. And even if they talk about them, they hardly bother to get into the details as John does.

The lessons are presented in video format. John narrates everything using screen recordings. This makes his courses pretty easy to follow. In fact, you can do everything he says as he narrates to you and that’s because it’s possible to pause the videos and resume when necessary.

What I didn’t like, however, is that it’s not possible to “fast-forward” the videos. So, if you’re already familiar with whatever John is talking about at any given moment, you’d have no alternative than to still listen to it. This can be quite annoying and time wasting.

Also, I don’t know if it’s just me or that John talks really slowly. Some of the lessons could have been 30 minutes but he talks rather slowly and a good number of them go up to 45 minutes in length. The upside is that you get some highly detailed and in-depth training no matter your level of skills.

Also, the Internet Jetset courses are divided into tiny, little portions. Ideally, you should take 1 module per week meaning you’d need several weeks to finish the entire program. Fortunately, you don’t have to finish it for you to start making real cash. You can start using your skills to get the systems up and running. For instance, you can use the skills learned within the Google Free Traffic Module to tap into the power of SEO.

The Upsells

The Jetset is pretty affordable at $47 per month, so what’s the catch? Well, the catch is that you’ll constantly receive emails from John enticing you to buy one of the premium packages on offer. For instance, if you’re already enrolled in the Internet JetSet program, you’ll constantly be enticed to go for the Super Affiliate program which goes for close to $1,000.

There’s also the JetsetLIVE webinars package that goes for $97. You’ll also find the JetSet Xtreme Members course which goes for $187.

I accidentally subscribed to the JetSet Xtreme Members course when I clicked on the link out of curiosity. And instead of being taken to a check out page, I got a message reading “Thank you for purchasing the Jetset Xtreme Members” course.

My Thoughts on the JetSet Xtreme Members Course

This is a platform full of pre-recorded videos of other affiliate marketers who have used this system to successfully make money. The course also provides you with links to third-party tools that you can use to make purchases. At first, I thought these were free tools but upon clicking on them I realized they belonged to other companies and you had to pay up to use them.

So, in my opinion, while the JetSet Xtreme is full of value especially if you’re looking to learn from the experiences of other affiliate marketers, it doesn’t really provide you with free tools. Just a bunch of affiliate links to other services.

I did not find this part of the program to be worth the $187 they charge for it. And for that reason, I claimed my money back. Fortunately, John kept his word and I got back all the money I had accidentally spent on this upsell.

I really liked the fact that the company is made up of honest people. It’s rare to come across companies that are willing to refund money nowadays – so two thumbs up to the Super Affiliate System team.

My Thoughts on the $997 Super Affiliate System (SAS)

While the Internet Jetset program focuses on the free sources of traffic, the SAS shows you exactly what you need to do to leverage on paid traffic methods. In my opinion, the $997 you pay for this course is worth it but only if you’re willing to sit down and learn the tricks. It won’t work like magic.

You see, everyone can place an advert on Facebook, Instagram or even Google Adwords. But if you ask around, you’ll realize that most of those ads don’t convert. It doesn’t matter how much you invest in the course unless you really understand the psychology of the buyer, you’d end up making shots in the dark.

The good thing with paid traffic is that it works almost instantly. That’s unlike the free traffic methods which take months or even years to materialize. So, if you don’t have the time to build dozens of backlinks and implement other SEO tasks for your site to rank (which normally takes years), this strategy enables you to start making money immediately.

And the best part is that besides exposing you to the language of paid affiliate marketing, the SAS course also provides you with 3 core skills. These include:

Copywriting

Data analysis

Research

In general, the SAS is an 8-week course which comprises 50 hours’ worth of content. It also contains lots of additional resources that can help complement your unique strategy.

Week One – The System Setup

This section of the training mainly comprises stuff to do with creating a website, setting up a presell page and rolling out Facebook ads.

Week Two – Understanding the System

Introduces you to the core skills of online business. It also aims to help you unlock a super affiliate mindset so you can profit from different situations.

Week Three – Marketing Skills

How do you get people to click on your ads and convert? As we all know, it takes an expert to hack this. Luckily, those skills are provided within this section of the training.

Week Four – Facebook & Google Ads

Facebook and Google have more than 2 billion active users per month. So, if you were to get a piece of this pie, chances are that you’d make some pretty huge bucks as well. And that’s what John Crestani does in week 4 of his training.

Week Five – Native & YouTube Ads

Ever thought of leveraging the power of native ads? Basically, native ads are ones that are included within a media format. For instance, you can include such ads on your webpage content and so forth. Besides that, you’ll also get to learn how to do YouTube Ads and so forth.

Week Six – Scaling and Outsourcing

Once you have the skills needed to make the first dollars, you’ll need to find ways to grow and expand your trade. Using the tidbits shared in the 6-th week of this training, you’ll be able to outsource and automate quite a number of tasks so you can focus on growing your business.

Week Seven – More Ad Campaigns

Most people usually limit themselves to Google and Facebook. But did you know that there’s a lot of unused potential on platforms like LinkedIn and Bing? In this module, you’ll be able to learn about all that plus a lot more.

Week Eight – Implementing the System

If you’re wondering which ad network to join and which niche to embrace, this is the module you’ll need to take. It’s a highly advanced section of the training that helps you decide the direction you want your online business to follow.

My Results

After going through this program, I’d like to admit that I learned quite a lot. Most importantly, I was able to re-apply for the Amazon Associates program and got accepted. I have been making quite some bucks over the last few years. One of my sites rakes in $1500 while the other one brings about $2000 per month.

My goal is to scale these two sites up – I know there’s potential to make $10,000 per site (per month) with more content and a stronger SEO presence. But that might take time. For now, I appreciate the fact that the investment I made in the Super Affiliate System is now paying back.

The Pros & Cons

Pros

Easy to use

Contains tons of useful advice

Relevant information provided

Well thought out curriculum

John is a good trainer and he takes time to explain different points

They offer a genuine money back guarantee

Pre-built templates for ads

Cons

Customer support only available via email

Quite a few optional upsells included

Frequent emails were sent to market their upsells

Final Thoughts

The Super Affiliate System by John Crestani is not without its flaws. But that doesn’t mean that it’s bad. In fact, as long as you’re willing to learn and implement its contents, you can truly benefit from it. I personally would recommend it to any person looking to make genuine cash in the vast online markets.

You can check it out here.

[cunninginstinct]

Dark Magic

Compiled thread with @neverwinterforgottenhero​

Tension hung so taut in the air that it was practically tangible, and as the sun elf paced about in his humble shop, Sand consulted the mysterious tome she’d presented him with. Foul magicks indeed were tied to this book. Even Sand, who had known personally the wickedness of the Arcane Brotherhood, found it difficult to not be squeamish… yet utterly enraptured at the same time, in the same way that one would find it difficult to look away from a horrifying accident.

Tempting as it was to tell the distraught woman that there was no hope for her friend, and that she should leave the book under his professional care and forget the whole ordeal, there seemed to be several intriguing references in what Sand could decipher. But, looking at what was required, it was easier to tell her there was nothing to be done. Still…

Sand sighed, closing the book from both ends together. That was a mistake, as the smell of decay gusted upwards from that motion, and Sand’s sigh had just the right timing to breathe it in despite his conscious efforts to not inhale its stench. He coughed and retched for a while, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. Hearing this, Jaral remained huddled at the very top of the staircase, tail fluffed and ears flattened.

Sand waved a hand in front of his face to attempt to clear the air as he recovered from his fit of coughing and gagging. “L-look,” he wheezed, much calmer now. “Look at the c… er-ehm. Look at the cover. See how there’s… only a few cr–” His voice broke and he hacked and coughed in a way similar to how his familiar would throw up a hairball. “There’s only a few crystals on the cover. The others seem to have been purposefully gouged out, and maybe hidden. Though I’d be simply ecstatic to tell you it may be as simple as locating and retrieving its counterparts, I wouldn’t put too much stock into your friend recovering from his curse. Possible, yes, but his chances are slim.”

The moon elf held the book underneath of his arm and clasped his hands behind his back. His expression was as grim as the tomb. “Something as powerful as this, my dear, must have some sort of guardian making sure these crystals are not recovered… whether for good or for ill. Are you really sure reviving your friend is worth the sacrifice?”

The dust clouded her vision for an instant. The mage took a long time to examine the grimoire, that didn’t seem too good. Yet she still had hope, Sand was known for his knowledge in the arcane mysteries. It was even why Lord Nasher had kept him near him. But more than that, it was the fact that the mage had worked with Ophelia, that had pushed the paladin to come here.

Oh it was not the first time she visited the shop. Yet it was maybe the first time she exchanged more than a few words with the moon elf. Until then she hadn’t noticed the cat. He too, seemed a bit affected by the dust and the smell.

It was not very surprising either, animals often sensed things better than them. And the odor that came from that flow of dust was truly horrible. She coughed a bit and tried to calm down quickly. But images of corpses flashed before her eyes.

No, no, they aren’t there, they aren’t there! You’re in a shop Rith, not there, not there…

Morninglord. With my eyes I see your holy sunrise. Morninglord. With my hands I sense your mercifull warmth. Morninglord. With my heart I feel your eternal love.

Her heart beat decreased slowly, yet she could feel a cold sweat dripping down her back. The magician didn’t seem too good either. The foul smell had invaded the shop, leaving no fresh air. Pressed against a shelf, she tried to catch her breath.

“Ugh…I see, are you alright?”

The crystals, that was the key.  She doubted that these gems were inoffensive and it looked like she was right. Every thing had a purpose, and it wasn’t the first spellbook she had found. She was used to see magical mechanisms.

She stood up, as she felt better. Her amber eyes supported the gaze of the moon elf. She was determined. She remembered too well the first time she had seen Leandre, a child back then. The blonde curls and that innocent smile hadn’t fooled her. But she had also seen how thin and dirty he was as he stole that apple. She was the one who had send him to Aarin. And yes, she was responsible. It was her fault.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes. And I’m kinda good at retrieving hidden things if I may say so.”

She paused, her tone was a bit ironic.

“That won’t be the first time I have to fight a guardian. We should elaborate a plan. when I would find it I would act accordingly. So… are you in?”

Startled by her assumption that he would simply go along, willy-nilly, into the heart of danger once more, he leaned away a little from the paladin. Holding up both of his hands in a simultaneous halting and submissive manner, he interrupted, “Oh, me? No, no, no, no. No. I have had my fill of adventuring, thank-you-very-much, and I do not intend to get myself wrapped up into the risky affairs of others over a stranger.”

He backed away, his spine (or, in this particular situation, lackthereof) brushing against the counter. “You’ll have to find someone else. No ifs, ands, or buts, my dear. While I would be simply ecstatic to put my life on the line yet again, those days are over. And my inventory will not take stock of itself.” Dismissively, he grabbed some random papers from his desk and looked them over as though she were no longer there.

The only hint he gave that he was still aware of her presence was the off-hand suggestion, “Try the mercenarys’ barracks. You’re sure to find a meatshield in there or two to help you along your way. Have a wonderful time, and ah, don’t die.”

It’s was an understatement to say that she was disapointed. Usually people were easily convinced by gold and gems. Some were also happy to help, or even eager to do what’s right. Unfortunatly the mage seemed a little to attached to his own comfort to really want to face danger.

Well it was not the first time someone said no to her. The paladin approached the cat, maybe a familiar, to hide that she had to think about a better reply to convince Sand. She reached for the cat, presenting her hand so it could smell her odor. Maybe then she could caress the lovely animal.

“Well. I still need a mage. If I understand it well, we’ll have to put the crystals back into the book to undo the curse. Maybe even perfom some ritual. And I can’t do that.”

The cat didn’t seem to mind her. In fact he didn’t seem to care at all. So she touched it very softly, Somehow it was quite comforting.

“I understand that you don’t want to risk your life for a stranger. But after what Ophelia told me about you I thought… Well that’s too bad. I need to act fast and an apprentice mage would only slow me. I need a veteran mage, one who can perform a spell while I protect him.”

Almost as a reflex she chanted softly a short prayer. Lathander give me the strenght! Then she turned to him, her amber eyes fixed on his.

“And you should know that I won’t take any meatshield. I am the shield, I have been the shield of this whole city, don’t you remember? So I’ll go alone then.”

She returned to the mage, and took the book on the counter. Her eyes were glowing with a fierce determination. A holy aura was surrounding her. She was willing to do anything to save Leandre.

Sand snootily watched as she acquainted herself with Jaral. The feline ducked his head and sniffed her hand, maintaining a respectable distance, before rearing his head to butt it into her palm, eyes closed into content little slits. A low purr rumbled in his throat. Ah, Jaral. Much more a ladies’ man than Sand ever was.

Admittedly, he felt a little bad leaving her to her own devices. Sand made an unsatisfactory host tower mage due to his guilty conscience and now here it was, throwing him headfirst into more danger and, almost worse yet, inconvenience. But did Rith really expect she would survive alone? Likely not. This was a little obvious trick she was playing on his feelings and to his unenthusiastic surprise, it was working.

One of these days, he’ll have to track down Ophelia and give her a talk about the reputation she painted of him, and how expectations go hand in hand.

“In that case, I suppose joining you would be prudent. A veteran mage would be difficult to locate in the docks district, after all, and the ones in the other quarters of Neverwinter would likely be less interested than I.” He placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward towards her, his face half-cast in shadow, one eyebrow raised. “Fair warning - I’m not risking life and limb on the whim of a stranger. I will help, but I have my boundaries.”

The feline was purring, its comforting sound was nice to hear. It was too long since she had seen such a nice cat. Well maybe not just a cat, as she was at a wizard’s shop, but still. It sure looked like one. Its fur was soft and fluffly under her fingers.

A wave of relief eased the tension in her shoulders. She felt like someone had lifted her heavy burden for now. Hearing the mage changing his mind put a smile on her face. The kind that she couldn’t erase even if she tried. Mentally she thanked the Morninglord. Then she composed herself, it was not the time to look stupidly joyfull.

“Well veteran mages seem quite rare these times. I’m really happy to see that you changed your mind. “

She approached the counter, leaning in quite close to the moon elf. Those two were like color opposites.

“That’s only fair I guess, should we discuss your boundaries right now? Or do you prefer a meal first? “

The paladin smiled.

Sand raised his hands from the counter top to cross his arms and half-turn away, still looking in her direction. “Allow me to pack first, then we’ll eat. We will have plenty of time to discuss boundaries afterwards on our way to find answers.” He sniffed and began to close up shop while she continued making friends with his familiar. “I’ll have my apprentice take over the shop for the time-being. And I trust you have authority to appeal to Lord Nasher? If you are to borrow me, in a manner of speaking, he will need to allow me the freedom to chase after you into danger without violating any codes between myself and Neverwinter.”

The mage compared wands and, with a shrug, packed both away into the bag on his hip alongside his spellbook. “Let us make relative haste, I am sure we will have a lot of ground to cover in order to help this friend of yours, Rith.” His smile was sly. “At least you had the sense to ask someone proficient enough to help, my dear. I make no promises, but I assure you I will do my best on your behalf.”

Oh so he did have boundaries, although rather tempted to address it, she didn’t say that out loud. She was honestly happy that he changed his mind. Because she knew by Ophelia how valuable his skills were. Still her joyful smile disappeared at the mention of the lord’s name. She was surprised that he too, was not totally free of his movements in the city. Maybe he was also some kind of spy.

She didn’t think about that and Ophie didn’t tell her. But well, kinda normal if any of this was a bit true. That man had pawns everywhere, even in the oddest places. That was nothing new really. She shrugged, a thin grin on her lips.

“Well, I left a note for Aarin Gend, I’m sure he will transmit the message if he thinks it has some importance to Nasher.”

As he was packing stuff, she took the grimoire back, putting it carefully into her magical backpack. Its touch made her shiver an instant. Fortunatly Rith had already packed her bag, armored, she had her weapon on her side, her shield was in the bag.

“I have a gift for that it seems. Well let’s go grab something to eat. You’re right, we don’t have much time to loose.”

[griffinsandpeacocks]

Loony Two Writing Challenge Bonus! I Feel Like Time’s Standing Still

Griffin sighs as he sees yet again, everything seems to have frozen. He get’s up from the cafe he’s at walks up to the counter and leaves a note over the cost of his order. He walks down the road and sighs looking around. At first he had thought he was the one doing this unintentionally. After several times he realized it wasn’t him but he seemed to be the only one unaffected by this. Eventually he manages to get to the bus and slides into the back and hides behind a book. He waits and hops off at a stop near the University and sighs. He’s always been an odd one out. The kids from other rich families disliked him because he not only payed to get it he tested and was begged to come. The kids that tested like him refused to believe he had tested as high and had paid his way in. So he was... Not too popular. He hums and goes to the dorm and steps in he had been clear, he didn’t have much he just asked they leave his bed desk and wardrobe alone. Which took up one wall. Thankfully they have so far.

He sits at his desk and starts working on his thesis. He keeps it on his laptop which he carries on him everywhere, though he also keeps it backed up in his email. He might be slightly paranoid. He’s been working on theoretical bio reading tech that can scan, register, and possibly even duplicate bio-signatures. In all reality he’d found though species tend to share a large portion of a bio-signature, there are specific quarks that make each unique. Like fingerprints but as of yet he hasn’t found a way to scrub and change bio-signatures. He’d made a prototype but all it does is register and record a single bio-signature. He’d created a locking mechanism that required to scan the little bracelet he’d made the bio-scanner into. He’d had to tweak it and had been tinkering when his roommate came back Griffin wasn’t fully comfortable with working on his tech but he was close to getting the lock to work he takes off his goggles and his gloves and rubs his eyes waving attempting to be nice. They nod and look at his lock and the bracelet. 

“What is that..?” Alec asks, his room mate was thankfully laid back and had slowly realized since a lot of their classes were together though rich Griffin wasn’t faking how smart he actually was. Then again no one cared to look up his last name and realize who his parents were. One was a leader in archaeology the other was a leader in sociology. One dug up ancient civilizations the other went through and worked out how that civilization functioned. The two of them often worked together and Griffin had grown up fascinated by the way ancient people interacted and what they could build even with primitive technology let alone limited resources.

“Um... Basically it’s a lock and scanner combination. It’s meant to scan a bio-signature and the lock and bracelet are meant to sync so only that specific bio-signature can open it. I’m trying to work out a few bugs that are making it kind of useless.” Griffin explains and Alec nods he was working in coding, in fact he was hoping to become a government sanctioned hacker. Griffin always found it odd that the government frowned on hacking but would gather up ‘White caps’ to help them. 

“Sounds complex.” Griffin shrugs and sighs rubbing at his eyes again.

“That’s half the problem. Besides nothing worth doing is ever easy. Or at least that’s what father likes to say. I wonder how their latest dig’s going...” Griffin mused and he sighs and packs up his project he’ll just go ask the engineering professor if he can see a way to stop the damn scanner from locking in the signature.

“Yeah, that sounds seriously complex and my brain isn’t weird like yours.” Alec jokes Griffin snorts as he stands stretching.

“Yeah might be a blessing, if you were more like me you’d be hopeless with those ones and zeros you love so much.” Griffin jokes and Alec laughs as Griffin walks away to go ask his professor some questions. He spend the next few days noticing the random freezes start to happen more frequently. It’s starting to annoy him as he can’t just go about his day if this keeps up. Especially if his classes keep getting interrupted. As he’s walking back to the dorm he sees time pause again and growls looking around as it’s the second time that day. He sees an albino skipping around moving people and cackling and Griffin freezes waiting for them to get closer. When they do Griffin sighs.

“This shit’s getting old quickly do you mind? I have classes I’d love to do without getting paused in the middle of drinking water. I don’t have time to pretend I don’t see odd shit happening!” Griffin shouts making the man jump and cough. He moves slowly back and then books it away Griffin keeps a firm hand on his bag to keep it from jostling too much and books it after him growling hating when time stops being frozen and he’s now dancing through a crowd to get after the stranger. He catches up in an alley. 

“Seriously asshole, explain! I thought I was doing it though I know I don’t have any crazy magic or any kind of mutation.” The man groans.

“Look I do this because it’s fun and I know how to not that I know how it works but eh, obviously however I can do this you have something similar that makes you immune to my effects.” He says and Griffin sighs.

“Can you just go screw with people away from Uni? I’d like to not look anymore out of place than I do.” Griffin whines. The man paused and raised a brow.

“Out of place you’d know how that feels?” He asks incredulous and Griffin glares. 

“Look asshat I might not be albino or have some odd social quirk but you try to be a rich background walking into a Uni with high IQ stats and see how long it takes for no one to like you. The people that tested in for merit hate me because I got in and they only see money, the rich hate me because half my way in was merit alone. I don’t need scholarships I didn’t ask for any I just paid like I could do and showed I have the smarts so everyone seems to hate me with a passion so fuck you yes I’m an outcast.” Griffin rants and the man leans back and nods.

“Alright I get your issue. I’ll leave the Uni area alone.” He says and Griffin sighs.

“Thank you. I’m just getting fed up with everyone hating me and I don’t want this on you of it. Though... Have any theories on why we can do the thing with stopping time?”  Griffin asks and the other shrugs.

“The most I can say is I know when I freeze an area it basically enters it’s own little bubble the moment I let go of the affect everything resumes back at the time I paused it. Like the area I pause basically loops back to the start point. That’s all I’ve really been able to see.” He says and Griffin nods having noticed it too.

“Well then... You go have fun I guess.” Griffin says walking away confused about the man’s flippant carefree personality. 

“We should get drinks some time, you’re interesting.” He calls and Griffin looks back.

“Sure, so long as it’s not in a time loop.” Griffin jokes walking away hearing the other laughing. He’s grinning as he walks away.

[astudyingreer]

Cat And Mouse

Someone grabbed Peter’s hair and yanked his head upright, tearing the blindfold from his face. He scrunched his eyes against the bright light, letting out a tight groan through his nose.

There was a table underneath him, and he was taped to a chair from the feeling of it. He was also handcuffed, but that was the least of his problems.

“Why don’t we just shoot him?” a gruff voice hissed, from the other side of the table. The man behind Peter let go of his hair with a shove, and the vigilante heard the soft clicking of a gun.

“Not yet,” the second man said, and Peter felt his breath on his ear as the stranger bent down to his level. “Hey, wake up, asshole.”

“I am clearly awake,” Peter replied stiffly, hesitantly blinking his eyes open to take in his surroundings. The bright light was produced by a bare bulb hanging over his head, but otherwise, the room was completely dark. It seemed like they were in some sort of garage, or warehouse. He could smell must and paint thinner.

Turning his head he saw a familiar face: a girl, about nine, tied across the room with a ball gag crammed in her mouth. She watched him desperately, tears staining her cheeks. The man standing next to her reached down to grab her shoulder, and she tensed.

The man with the gun behind Peter, however, was much bigger, and much angrier. He walked around the table, leaning over it and flashing a very not-genuine smile. “How did you find us?” he hissed.

Peter shrugged his shoulders, flapping his elbows a little. His fingers flexed in the cuffs in front of him, but otherwise, he looked completely unbothered. “Oh, you know,” he sighed. “With difficulty. I’ve been following the child abductions for a while, I guess I just got lucky this time.”

“Got lucky,” the man repeated grimly. He looked down to the gun in his hands, cracking his neck a little as he gave a short laugh. “Yeah, right. What, are you some type of bait? Are there cops outside?”

“I thought your client only wanted little girls,” Peter responded bitingly, though his tone was slightly prodding. “Why would I be bait?”

“You tell me,” he growled. “Only thing I know is my boys picked you up snooping around in a dumb suit. How did you find us, really?”

“I don’t know, man,” Peter huffed, eyes flickering from him to the girl, “I just staked out the general area of the abductions, I kept tabs on anyone suspicious, I watched like thirty hours of traffic cam footage--traffic cams are really easily hacked, I’m not a cop--look, okay, I’m a vigilante, what do you want me to say?”

He actually laughed at this, leaning across the table toward him. “What, you’re a superhero? That’s what this is about?”

“...Vigilante,” Peter hissed under his breath, turning his head away from the man a little as his bad breath came into proximity. Subtly he made eye contact with the girl, trying to focus his energy on reaching into her mind despite his racing heart rate.

“You are a special type of dumb, you know that?” the man chuckled. “You thought you could step on our turf without getting caught?” “I had hoped.” The girl started crying softly, the noise muffled by her gag, and Peter's heart stung in sympathy. He looked over, just in time to see the man next to her hit her square across the face, practically knocking her whole chair sideways.

“HEY!” Peter snapped. “How about we don’t deck the nine-year-old girl, huh?”

In an instant the man shoved the gun directly into his forehead, the whole table sliding an inch and squeaking from the force. Peter felt his heart skip a beat but remained collected, his eyes discreetly darting around the room to count the thugs. Six.

“Shut up,” the man growled. “Shut up. You’re going to start talking, or she’s going to do a lot more than cry. There are plenty of little girls to replace her.”

Peter swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Are the police coming?”

“No.”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, man.”

Another deep breath. He spoke again, slower. “Like I said, I’m working alone. There are no cops coming. I’d be arrested the same as you if there were.”

The man nodded, obviously satisfied. At least, satisfied enough. “How did you find us?”

“I tracked you guys for weeks,” Peter explained, trying to control the tremor in his voice. He was painfully aware of the girl’s sobs. “I knew about the child abductions and figured out the general area. I staked it out, followed some leads. It was pure luck.”

“And it’ll be the last dumb thing you ever do, Spider-Man,” the man hissed, straightening and adjusting his grip on the gun. The cold metal dug into his forehead.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Peter thrust his hands upward, phasing effortlessly through the handcuffs as he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it to the side. A shot rang out, the bullet planting in the concrete wall behind them, and everyone started yelling.

Peter jumped up out of the tape and onto the table, kicking the man in the jaw with a swift solid side kick and sending him sprawling to the floor. He jumped down, his form glowing with ethereal light as he materialized over the man and slammed his elbow down onto his head, knocking him out cold.

Five.

Someone grabbed him from behind and he whirled around, grip finding his forearm. He twisted underneath, pinning his arm to his back and kicking expertly at his knees, causing him to collapse. One of his buddies fired but was too slow: the bullet hit his buddy two inches above his left eye.

Four.

His heart was pounding, every blood vessel flaming and every thought insanely clear, but he had no time to waste.

More shots rang out and Peter phased forward again, feeling the metal warp through him. Another thug was lunging at him and he ran toward him, passing through him effortlessly and turning to grab the man into a carotid choke. He was out in an instant, just in time for Peter to block a punch from the next thug and land a few of his own.

Three.

Peter gasped as the man finally landed a blow to the gut, and he stumbled back. Instinctively he reached for the batons at his side, but of course, they were gone. And with it the precious two seconds of time he had before the man started swinging again.

He parried a few more blows before finally managing to grab his gun wrist, twisting and catching the gun as it fell from his fingers with the opposite hand. Almost out of desperation he slammed the barrel of the gun down on top of his head, but it did the job.

Two.

Peter took a moment to find the girl—she was screaming and thrashing, already slung over the shoulder of her guard who was now drawing his own weapon. He lifted it to aim and Peter tried to phase forward, but someone grabbed him from behind and slammed him to the floor.

All the air whooshed out of him, and before he could take another breath a boot collided mercilessly to his gut.

Phase, Peter. Phase.

Another kick, shattering his focus as he cried out in pain. His insides felt liquified and he tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs screamed in protest.

If I just broke a rib, I’m going to flip my shit.

Finally, he summoned the strength to phase, if only long enough to roll out of the way of his next kick and narrowly miss a shot from the other guard. Pure adrenaline and rage roared in his ears and he let out of a cry of anger, the concrete floor splitting underneath him as he got to his feet.

Lazily he blocked a blow and returned it, mustering every last shred of energy to barrage the man with punches and finally send him sprawling to the floor.

His body was flickering in and out of reality, glowing eerily in the darkness as he turned to the last man.

One.

Fear crossed the thug’s expression for just a moment, then he grabbed the girl and jammed the barrel of the gun into her temple. She was wailing now, her pleas piercing the sudden stillness.

“Let her go,” Peter said, wiping the blood from his nose. As much as he could, he tried to shut out the girl’s weeping as he focused on controlling his power. “Let her go. I don’t want to have to kill you, man.”

Please work. Jesus Christ, please work.

The man looked at him, teeth bared, but his hand was trembling as he held the gun.

Fifteen seconds passed. Thirty.

“Let her go,” Peter repeated quietly. Desperately.

Forty-five.

Slowly, the man lowered the gun. As his grip loosened the girl burst out of his arms, running behind Peter as she continued to sob uncontrollably. He didn’t break eye contact but reached behind to grab her shoulder and pull her completely behind him.

The man stared at him blankly, taking deep long breaths. And then he spoke.

“He said you’d show up.”

Peter’s heart stopped. “What?”

“He said you’d show up if we kept at it long enough.” He looked down at the gun in his hands, expression still completely empty. “I can’t go back without the girl. I can’t go back.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter demanded, but it was too late. The man raised the gun to his temple, clenching his eyes tight.

“NO!” Peter turned away, hand flying over the girl’s eyes as he pulled her into his chest. The shot rang out, followed by the sickening splatter of brain matter, and then everything was quiet save the girl’s gentle tears.

“I want to go home,” she was weeping. “I w-want to go home.”

“Yeah,” Peter answered breathlessly, feeling his eyes sting with pure fear as his heart practically exploded from his chest. He couldn’t take deep breaths, but still, he tried to maintain a reassuring, steady tone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going to take you home, okay? I’m going to take you home. You’re safe now. Just don’t look at him, okay? Just keep your eyes on me.”

He picked her up with difficulty, biting back a groan with each step as he carried her slowly to the doorway.

You’re safe now.

A chilling thought came to his mind, unbidden.

Maybe she had never been in danger.

[weasleyi-blog1]

Merlin’s beard, what is ( CHARLES ‘CHARLIE’ WEASLEY ) doing out at this hour? For a ( HALFBLOOD ) who is ( 24 ) years old, ( HE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE ORDER ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that ( HE ) is ( CIS MALE ) and a ( GRYFFINDOR ) alumni though. They’re very ( PERCEPTIVE ) and ( ADVENTUROUS ) but also quite ( FICKLE ) and ( PRIDEFUL ), which could be why they remind of ( A DEVILISH GRIN, RUNNING HEADFIRST INTO DANGER, BURNS THAT NEVER QUITE HEAL AND AN UNWAVERING LOVE FOR WHAT WAS MEANT TO KILL YOU. ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( MICHAEL B JORDAN / adopted ), but I’ve never heard of them.

BACK TO BASICS.

name: charles elliot weasley. occupation: dragonologist. nicknames: charlie.

+ practical, perceptive, adventurous, experimental. - fickle, prideful, impulsive, indecisive.

age: 24. date of birth: december 12, 1972. zodiac: Sagittarius. hometown: devon, england. current location: lives in a small apartment in london but travels to romania and sweden as well as other dragon sanctuary and bases frequently. gender: cis male. pronouns: he/him. orientation: very bisexual. spoken languages: english, romanian, bulgarian, french, german. moral alignment: neutral good. element: fire. house: gryffindor.

CHARACTER INSPO.

Hagrid ( imagine seeing a dragon and instinctively just wanting to take care of it, seeing the best in people, so warm, so soft ), Finnick Odair ( effortlessly charming, more than what meets the eye, so loyal, playing at a multitude of endgames all at once ),  Scott Lang ( cheeky jokes when you least expect them, man of honor, would definitively hack a corporation and give back to the wronged workers if the opportunity presented itself ), Steve Rogers ( strong instinct to protect, strong morals, brave, empathetic ), Newt Scamander ( never truly met a monster he couldn’t love, also he is 100% Charlie’s idol, a little bit awkward, would lay down his life to protect magical beings, can’t follow orders for shit  ).

BACKGROUND / CHILDHOOD.

Charlie was born to Olivia Selwyn ( nee Novak ) and Benjamin Selwyn on the 12th of December, 1972. Olivia was a muggle born and thus, despite his good name, Benjamin Selwyn was labelled as being sympathetic to the muggle cause. Things would only get worse, as both Benjamin and Olivia were quite vocal about their views, and their support for muggles and muggleborns alike. Benjamin was labelled a blood traitor, and cast out of the community he had grown up in. It was a common tale, at the time ---- Benjamin was certainly not alone in his fate, nor would he be the first or last to die for what he believed in.

Olivia worked as a librarian, and was a Ravenclaw down to the bone. Benjamin worked at the ministry, in the department next door to Arthur Weasley’s office. He was a Gryffindor.

So, Olivia and Benjamin had a son. He was a beautiful baby boy, angelic yet always energetic. They named him Charles, and wished for him to have courage, and be kind. For three months, they would get to cherish him, but reality would soon catch up to them. It came in the form of four death eaters, who entered the Selwyn home and murdered both Olivia and Benjamin in cold blood. The Selwyn son, however, they spared. Though halfblood, he was not yet completely ruined.

The Selwyns were close friends with the Weasleys, and upon their death, they decided to take in Charlie, and raise him as their own. Charlie was practically already part of the family - Benjamin Selwyn and Arthur Weasley had grown up together, been close friends for years. Arthur was already his godfather ---- so taking him in made sense.

So Charlie Selwyn became Charlie Weasley, and part of the family. He grew up at The Burrow, became just as much of a son as the rest of them. He wore the same knitted sweaters, smiled in family photos, followed his father to work ( with the same big, awe-struck eyes ) and played in their garden. Charlie was as much a Weasley as anyone else, and would not let anyone forget it.

He never knew his birth parents, and has no memories of them. 

The type of kid to constantly bring home animals and strays. Some were dangerous, other weren’t. Has probably taken home a fire crab on at least one occasion. His mom was probably not too happy about that one.

Loves all of his siblings !!!! So much !!!!! 

Sort of a gullible kid that never met a stranger. His mom had to keep a close eye on him because he would 10/10 wander off, always trusting that everything would be fine. Why wouldn’t it be?

Second oldest Weasley !!!!! Takes his older brother role semi-seriously. He’s the kind of brother that will 1000% take you into the Forbidden Forest if you ask and break curfew with you and sneak around with you but at the same time, always keep you safe, and set you straight if you’re being enough of a dumbass to warrant it.

HOGWARTS YEARS.

Hogwarts was generally a very good time for Charlie. He was immediately sorted into Gryffindor, which was... a relief, tbh. Bill was in Gryffindor, and the knowledge that he’d be in the same house as his brother was comforting. The Weasley boys would stick together. Through thick and thin.

As the second oldest, one might expect that Charlie felt a need to prove himself, show that he was just as good as his brother. Charlie felt little of that pressure. Instead, he was easy going and carefree, and mostly lived by the motto that what was going to happen, might as well happen. No point in worrying about it.

He was also not particularly worried about setting a good example for his brothers. Which could potentially have been disastrous, if it wasn’t for the fact that Charlie naturally gravitated towards doing good. He was an overachiever, enjoyed pleasing his mother and the teachers at the school. Charlie was the type of kid that usually did his homework on time, but even when he didn’t - he had built up enough of a trust with his professors, that they were more often than not lenient on him.

Still, Charlie shares some of that streak of mischief that some of his younger brothers have ( not naming any names here but we all know who they are .... ). He has been known to be impossible to keep away from the Forbidden Forest, in particular. Already in his first year, Charlie would sneak off, wander deep into the woods, and eventually get lost. That year, Charlie made friends with the centaurs. He also made friends ( with varying degrees of success ) with a vast abundance of magical creatures and animals in the forest, and his interest for wildlife grew.

Admittedly, he didn’t always know that it was dragons that would be his main interest. For a while, any magical creature would have done just as well, and Charlie was interested in following in Newt Scamander’s foot steps ( lbr Charlie is his biggest fan ), and do research, learn, and discover. He had always loved dragons, considered them gentle giants, but it was the rumors of the Gringotts dragon ( which he would also manage to have confirmed, eventually ) that swayed him into a path of working with only them, rather than magical beasts in general. Charlie is of the opinion that dragons should be treated humanely and with respect.

During his fifth year at the school, Charlie was made prefect, and it was a position that he excelled at, as well. He was the type of prefect to put kindness first, always spoke to the first years in a soft voice, made sure to explain everything carefully, rather than just order them around. 

By his sixth year, Charlie was made Quidditch Captain, too. 

By his seventh year, Charlie knew the Forbidden Forest like the back of his hand. He was also quite well acquainted with the Great Lake, and was in the habit of making up new spells to fix whatever problems he had at the time, however dangerous that could be.

His favorite class at the school should be easy enough to guess, and Charlie spent the most time preparing for his Care for Magical Creatures classes. During those hours, Charlie lit up, came alive.

AFTER HOGWARTS.

So Charlie graduated with top marks, and went on to study dragonology in Romania. Once the war started, he returned to England briefly, and joined the Order. Charlie has always had a strong sense of right and wrong, and was highly motivated to fight for his family. He is all too aware what danger they are in, what people think of them. Charlie would rather die than see something happen to his parents, the people who have done everything for him, taken him in. He also has very strong protective instincts of his brothers and sister. Joining the war was a no brainer, for Charlie.

But the best thing he could do for The Order, was to use his ties and connections that he had garnered during his years abroad. So he moved back and forth from England, traveled to different countries in Europe, gathered supporters of their cause, all the while also keeping a careful eye on the magical creatures population, being very aware of the kind of danger they were in, too. Charlie has come to understand that magical creatures often become casualties of the wars of wizards. He doesn’t like that, and he wants to protect them.

Charlie has an impressive amount of burn scars, which he has chosen to not have removed. Both because he genuinely thinks they look kinda cool and he’s proud of them, but also because they remind him the sort of respect he needs to have for the creatures in his care. Charlie is not an idiot ( in this instance ) and knows that a dragon would hardly hesitate to kill him on the spot, if given the right circumstances and opportunity.

Charlie currently lives in a small apartment in London, but he rarely stays there. He is always on the move ---- traveling to other countries, to wildlife reserves, to the ministry. 

He has admittedly become a little bit of a workaholic, but only because he loves his job so much? He feels the most alive when he’s out in the field, when he’s outside, when he’s surrounded by only nature and wildlife. 

PERSONALITY.

Charlie is so so warm, caring and kind. But he is also a little bit unreliable, and has been known to not always show up when he’s needed. He’s easily distracted, and if he gets drawn into work or Order business, he can disappear for weeks on end without any word from him.

Usually very optimistic and happy go lucky. Charlie was born in the middle of a war, and certainly has had his fair share of reasons to worry. Despite this, Charlie tends to take everything about as seriously as he needs to, which usually isn’t very seriously at all. Charlie has smiled death in the face enough time to not be wary of it, anymore. He is of the strong opinion that whatever is going to happen, is going to happen anyways. Him worrying will not affect the inevitable outcome.

Charlie is a little bit quiet, but not exactly shy either. He just doesn’t always find a reason to talk. Also it’s a bit of a habit. When working in the field, it’s usually too loud for them to hear each other anyways, so Charlie has just stopped trying. He also quite likes the silence, finds it comforting.

Bit of a romantic, tbh. Believes in ideals - like love at first sight, a happily ever after, soulmates. But never actually has time for love, either?

Has never met an obstacle that he didn’t want to climb and it’s a bit of a problem.... Although not particularly reckless, Charlie is known for not thinking twice about putting himself in danger.

Also probably a little bit arrogant, or to put it nicer, very confident. 

Has the sort of ‘wink at you before he disappears into the masses’ sort of aesthetic.

Very experimental too? Likes to experiment with spells and potions and experimental approaches on how to best deal with various situations that arise in his line of work. This has almost cost him both an arm and a leg at some point...

VERY proud of who he is and what he comes from. Though he shrugs off most things, he WILL throw hands at anyone who dares insult his siblings or his parents.

Has never backed down from a fight, ever !!!!! 

OTHER STUFF.

Charlie knows that he is adopted, but he rarely thinks of it, these days. It was more of an issue during his Hogwarts days, when other kids would prod and pry. Because of that, Charlie fully embraced his Weasley-ness, swore to himself that he’d be the biggest blood traitor the world had ever seen. He loves his family, what they stand for, everything that they are. Charlie is proud to wear sweaters knitted by his mother ( he still does, catch him wearing a Christmas sweater in July ) and tries to be the best son he can be. As much as he can, anyways.

Thinks that he owes a lot to Hogwarts, and has on a few occasions guest lectured there about dragons.

Shares part of his father’s fascination with muggles and muggle objects !!! Especially motorcycles and telephones are of Great Interest to Charlie. He thinks muggles to be a bit peculiar, but interesting.

Still plays Quidditch on occasion, but not with a specific team. It’s usually just a game with the lads after a long day’s work in the conservatory. 

[maggotmouth]

    hi i’m nora (23. gmt. she/her) and i’m going to play three (3) characters ! cos i hate myself. no 1 is bridget the angsty socialist leftie liberal who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about capitalism. very talkative. always in docs and a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. here’s a pinboard !! everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll (probably forget to) smash that im button for plots x

application template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen BRIDGET MATUSIAK around in a while. the MARGARET QUALLEY lookalike has been known to be GARRULOUS & CANDID, but SHE can also be FICKLE & ERRATIC. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FILM. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. 

aesthetics.

thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, roller blades, grazed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

knew each other from the cheer team in bridgets freshman year and tatiana’s sophomore year. had a competitive friendship to start with but then they got into a discussion about politics at a party one night, and maybe hooked up a few times after tatiana had jst broken up w someone. they were sort of seeing each other very casually for a bit, but…. they came from vastly different circles n it didn’t really work. they were in a bad partch at the time of the reaping so to speak, and bridget picked her name For A Giggle but now regrets it big time obviously

tw drugs, teen pregnancy, hypersexuality

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things had a way of circling back, that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, poka-dot nylon pulled down to her ankles.

her parents met in high school. her mother alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not.

i say they met in high school, bridget’s dad wasn’t actually in school, they met at the high school. he was the father to a girl down the road. alice knew nothing of the girl besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. soon the pitter patter of tiny feet sounded along the hall of the home for wayward women, alice’s parents having thrown her out as soon as they knew a child was growing in her womb.

gilly (referred to as junior) was born two years later, the son of a mechanic and handyman named gilbert “gilly” senior, who - while a slow-witted man – was likable enough. alice, gilly bridget & junior lived in a colorado trailer park and whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of exhausts.  was raised in a workshop basically.

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was twelve, leaving gil to adopt the two as legal guardian and raise them in the forge. she’s lived with gilly ever since. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors.

used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in third world countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so…. and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone.

aesthetic: cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. a long green trench coat with loads of badge pins for alt-rock bands and independent films. red denim jacket, also covered in badges n pins. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides styler or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

hypersexual and kinda manic-depressive (though not diagnosed) probs bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she started life in a house that was literally designed to rehabilitate “fallen women” and she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparents refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist ad hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at rallies. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

working two jobs to pay for uni currently !! works at the bowling alley polishing the shoes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also is a burger flipper at mcdonalds. a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who're like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than fixing bowling lanes — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties like that isn’t shit for the environment ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, melancholic.

this bitch HATES capitalism and LOVES karl marx

time isn’t real. nothing exists. the self is a social construct. finger guns.

an awful person, really

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, here are some plot ideas i stole, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

[magic-marvel]

Normal

Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-man x Reader

Summary: A night out leads to an encounter with our favorite masked hero.

Word Count: 3065

A/N: I’m so sorry this came out way later than expected! but it’s done and i hope you enjoy! BTW my knowledge of computer sciences go about as far as i’m willing to google so don’t judge me if i sound dumb (which, i probably did from chapter 1 so i won’t hold it against you if you think i am.)

You sat on the floor in Peter's room, legs crossed. Ned was on the bed behind you. Both of you sat in silence as you waited for Peter to return, making no effort to talk. He kept checking his phone, hoping there would be a notification to distract him. You took the time to look around in the room, taking in each knick knack that decorated his walls or shelves.

You both knew each other from school, but never really talked to each other. So both of your unannounced arrivals at Peter's apartment left you to sit in awkward silence as Peter talked to his Aunt in the living room.

“Bye May!” Peter called from outside his room. Both you and Ned looked up at the door.

“Bye Peter! I left money on the counter if you guys get hungry!” May called back. Peter gave her a quick thanks before the front door could be heard closing.

You stood up from the floor, Ned sat up straighter. Peter finally walked back in the room, completely unaware of the awkward air that filled the space.

“So? When do we start?” Ned asked. You nodded your head, seconding his question.

“We? We aren't doing anything. I'm gonna go figure out who these bad guys are.” Peter replied before taking a seat at his desk.

“What? C'mon! We can help!” You pleaded.

Peter looked up at you, a smile couldn't help but tug on his lips.

“It's dangerous guys, I can't have you in on this.” Peter explained. “They clearly sell alien weapons for a living, so imagine if they link Spider-man back to either of you? I can't put either of you in that danger.”

“You aren't putting us in danger, we are choosing to help.” Ned assured. “C'mon, 'Guy in the Chair'”

You cleared your throat.

“And 'Girl in the Chair!'” Ned added.

Both you looked at Peter for an answer, putting on your best puppy dog eyes. Ned was surprisingly effective, but one look in your direction made Peter crumble. Your bottom lip pudged out, your eyes pleading with him to say 'yes'. You even tilted your head. You looked like a kicked puppy, not at all understanding why the person they love decided to hurt them. And Peter felt like he was the kicker.

“Fine! Fine, but if I think it gets too much then you guys are out.” Peter finally agreed.

You and Ned high fived each other, huge grins adorned both your faces. Peter smiled to himself, he can see the beginning of a wonderful friendship flourish between you two. He was happy to see his girlfriend and best friend get along.

“So what now?” You asked, not even sure yourself what you got into.

“Well...” Peter started. He began to spin his chair in thought. “I don't actually know.”

“Do you at least know who these guys are?” Ned questioned.

Peter pointed a pen at him, “I guess that's where we'll start!” He concluded.

You shook your head. Peter really needed help, especially when there was absolutely nothing to go off of.

“How are we gonna do that?” You asked. “It's not like alien tech have serial numbers or anything.”

Once finding out that Peter was Spider-man, he had filled you in on his and Ned's investigation. You knew about the Chitauri battery core being the reason behind the explosion at the Washington Monument, he also told you that the strangers at the school were after it. Peter even mentioned the scary bird guy, “Vulture”, you dubbed him. You were worried about that part, especially since he's almost killed Peter multiple times now.

“What about during the weapons deal in the park? Do you remember a license plate or names being said?” Ned asked.

Peter thought for a moment on the question, and with a quick fumble in his backpack he pulled out his mask. In one swift movement, the mask was on and the suits system was warming up.

“Karen, can you do a search on a license plate? At least part of it? I can't remember the whole thing.” Peter seemingly asked the air. Taking a quick glance at Ned, he gave you a knowing smile and brought his attention back to Peter. This was your first interaction with Karen, so you were pretty excited.

“I can go through recorded surveillance and scan plate numbers. I also can also run facial recognition on the individuals in the park.” Karen relayed.

“Woah...” You listened as a voice spoke back to Peter. This was Stark tech at it's finest.

“Yeah, that'll be perfect.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “Wait, surveillance?” Peter questioned. His eyes shrunk.

“Everything you see is recorded and stored in the Stark Industries cloud.” Karen answered.

“Everything?” Peter asked. His eyes looking back and forth between you and Ned.

“Everything. It's called the Baby Monitor Protocol.”

“Of course it is...” Peter mumbled to himself. His pen being tossed on his desk.

You held back a chuckle.

“So Karen, is there anything embarrassing on there?” You asked. Peter squinted his eyes at you. A mischievous smile adorned your features.

“I personally do not feel embarrassment, however, I have seen Peter do things that would be deemed socially unacceptable or awkward.” Karen answered, voice chipper and happy to help.

“There isn't- I don't do anything embarrassing.” Peter tried defending. The waver in his voice gave him away.

“Of course you do, Peter. Here, let me show you.” Karen corrected.

One of Peter's web shooters suddenly turned on, a projector displayed on the wall from across the desk that it was sitting on.

Peter was suddenly displayed in front of a mirror, you recognized the mess in his room behind him.

“Hey! What's up everyone?” Peter spoke to himself in the mirror.

“Karen!” He tried shutting off the projection. You and Ned continued watching.

“Sick party,” He turned his head in the video and said your name, giving no one in particular a wink. “You look beautiful.”

You shoved your hands over your mouth, hiding a huge grin as you fought back tears. You struggled to hold in laughter as the video kept playing. Ned had already long lost his cool, his body flying back into the bed as he cried in laughter.

“Karen! Stop it!” Peter tried. He only ended up fast forwarding in the day.

“It is I, Thor! Son of Odin!” Peter held a wooden hammer in his hand and began to flex.

You instantly sputtered out a loud wheeze, laughter taking over and causing you to crumple to the ground.

Karen finally stopped the projection, “I found a record on one of the culprits, Peter.”

You and Ned were still laughing, Peter took a seat back in his chair and he turned away from you both. It would be another minute or so before you both recovered, wiping tears away and struggling to breathe.

“Oh my God, bro, who else have you done?” Ned questioned, finally sitting up on the bed.

“He does an excellent impression of Iron Man, the Winter Soldier, Black Wid-”

“Karen! Now's not the time!” Peter interrupted.

You finally got the air back in your lungs and stood up from the floor. You walked around Peter so he would face you.

“You think I'm beautiful?” You asked, remnants of your laughter still showing on your face.

Peter looked up at you, his eyes scanning your face. “Of course I do.” He mumbled, still hurt from you laughing at him.

A smile stretched on your face, Your ears warming at the compliment.

“You're not so bad yourself, Thor.” You said before taking a seat back on the floor, your legs crossing as Peter slapped a hand on his face.

“So, Karen, gimme names.” Peter asked the A.I. He wanted to get over this moment as fast as he can.

“I can only find the identity of one of the individuals, his name is Aaron Davis. He has a criminal record and current data shows he has an address here in Queens.” Karen explained.

“Oh. That was kinda easy.” You said aloud.

“Sweet. Well I guess I'll pay him a visit.” Peter spoke before fishing out the rest of his suit.

“What do we do?” Ned asked. You looked up at Peter expectantly.

“Hold down the fort!” Peter squeezed into his suit, balancing on one foot for a moment.

“Hold down th- What? That's what the superhero tells the useless person to do so they don't get in the way.” You commented. Your face was contorted in disappointment.

“Well I can't exactly bring you guys along.” Peter pressed on his chest, the suit shrunk to fit him perfectly. He looked good, you couldn't help but think.

You couldn't argue against him. Neither could Ned, since he stayed silent.

“Be careful, Peter.” You spoke, sincerity in your voice.

Peter leaned down to kiss your forehead, he brushed back hair behind your ear.

“Where's my kiss.” Ned commented.

You snorted, Peter shooting Ned a wink before climbing out the window. You both watched as he swung behind a building, red and blue now hidden from view.

You pulled your backpack onto your lap, pulling out an old laptop. Stickers littered the back, the original color no longer visible. The laptop booted up, the fans running on overdrive before calming down to a low hum.

“What're you doing?” Ned asked, curiously looking over your shoulder.

“Holding down the fort.” You replied.

You opened up various tabs, typing in the command prompt to open different programs. You continued typing away, taking no pauses as windows opened and closed quicker than Ned can read them. But he did catch one important phrase

“Stark Industries? What are you doing in fishing in their data?” Ned continued to watch you work. Your brows were furrowed in concentration.

“Karen said all the surveillance is stored on their cloud right? So if I can just...” You paused, typing in a few more commands before a video feed opened up on your screen. “There we go!”

There was a moment of static, before finally the feed showed live imaging of the Spider-man suit.

“Did... Did you just hack into Stark Industries?” Ned questioned. “It took you like, five minutes...”

“I already had back doors installed from before so I just... sneaked back in.” You turned your head around, giving Ned a proud smile. “Here, gimme your laptop.”

Ned handed you his laptop, the device much more heavy duty than yours. Seemed a lot more reliable as well. You pulled out a cable from your bag and plugged it in both USB ports in your laptop and his. Typing a few more commands on your laptop allowed Ned's screen to rely a real time GPS map of Peter's location. You gave it back to him, stretching out the cable to give him room to pull his laptop.

“Sweet.” He nodded, typing in his own command prompt to pull up more information. He now was able to see Peter's suit condition and monitor biomedical scans. He was only able to do this while connected to the suit, so being able to see what's going on wirelessly made things much easier. You watched as he continued typing, taking mental notes for future reference.

“We make a good team.” You commented. Ned nodded in agreement.

“Guys in a Chair?” He tried coming up with a name.

“Pair in a Chair.” You added.

“We'll work on it.” Ned said rather than giving you feedback. You tried not taking offense.

You both watched as Peter found the apartment, however, no one was home. He stood by the window, waiting on the fire escape. A few moments later, your contact popped up on his HUD. He told Karen to answer.

“Hey, Spidey. You know that grocery store on 188th and 73rd?” You asked, holding onto your phone while it was on speaker.

“Uhh... Yeah?” Peter replied, confusion in his voice.

“He's there, his car is in the parking garage across the street.” You relayed.

“What? How do you know that?” He asked.

“He popped up security cameras in the store.” Ned answered.

Peter began to swing past buildings, making his way down the short distance to the grocery store.

“Security cameras?” He asked. “What did you guys do?”

“Don't ask questions. The less you know the better.” You replied.

“Wh-What? What do you mean 'the less I know'?” Peter was worried.

“You know, in case Iron Man comes busting though your door then you can claim plausible deniability.” You answered.

“Hey, there's his car! The old one missing the rear window.” Ned commented, pointing at your screen.

Peter stopped in his tracks. You watched as he stared at the car in question.

“How do you know I see his car?” Peter asked, unsure if he wants an answer.

“So we might have hacked into your suit's surveillance.” You answered. “We can see everything you see in real time.”

“You guys did what now?!” Peter held onto the ceiling as he approached the car.

“C'mon don't be like that! You already did it before!” You whined.

“It wasn't technically hacking, it was more or less disabling safety nets built into the suit.” Ned corrected.

“Mr. Stark's gonna kill me...” Peter concluded.

“Hey, Peter, Aaron Davis just entered the parking garage.” Ned relayed. You took a peek at his screen, Aaron was caught on the entrance's security camera.

Peter readied himself, telling Karen to activate 'Interrogation Mode'. You were curious.

Aaron began opening his trunk, putting a bag inside before Peter webbed his hand to the car. He approached, his strides held a confidence you've never seen before.

“REMEMBER ME?” Peter suddenly spoke, his voice way too 'murder bot' for your liking. Aaron was shaken for a moment, unprepared for the sudden booming in his voice.

“Woah! Calm down!” He stuck a hand up, trying to get Peter to stop.

You and Ned shared a look, eyes wide and mouths agape. What happened to Peter.

“YOU HAVE INFORMATION AND YOU'RE GONNA GIVE IT TO ME NOW!” He questioned, authority lining his voice.

“Hey... what happened to your voice?” Aaron suddenly asked.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'WHAT HAPPENED TO MY VOICE'?” Peter asked.

“I heard you by the bridge, I know what a girl sounds like.” He replied. You let out a chuckle.

“I'M NOT A GIRL! I'M A BOY! I MEAN-- I'M A MAN!” Peter insisted.

“Boy, girl, I don't care what you are.” Aaron replied.

“I'M A MAN! LISTEN, TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THESE WEAPON DEALERS.” Peter questioned.

Aaron suddenly slammed on the trunk, the sudden movement startled Peter. Unknowingly to both of them, you and Ned also flinched at the action.

“You ain't never done this before, huh?” Aaron observed.

“DEACTIVATE INTERROGATION MODE...” Peter spoke to Karen. “Listen man, I just need to know who's selling these weapons. They are crazy dangerous and if they can cut down a bodega in half-”

“You know Delmar's?” Aaron suddenly asked.

“Yeah, best sandwiches in Queens.” Peter insisted. You unconsciously nodded your head in agreement.

“Sub Haven's pretty good.” Aaron argued.

“Eh, too much bread.”

“I like bread.”

“Peter! Get names!” You reminded him.

“Right, c'mon, you gotta give me something.” Peter pleaded.

Aaron didn't say anything, simply looking down at his hand now webbed to the trunk.

Peter turned around, walking away with disappointment.

“Stupid interrogation mode... Karen, never do that again.” He said as he walked away. You felt bad for him, Aaron was the only lead on these guys.

“The other night, you told those dudes 'If you're gonna shoot somebody, shoot me.' That's pretty ballsy.” Aaron spoke as he walked. His sentiment made Peter turn back to him. “I don't want those weapons on the streets, I got a nephew who live here.”

Aaron was being honest, opening up to Peter. You didn't expect it, and neither did Ned.

“Can you tell me who these guys are? What do you know about the guy with the wings?” Peter tried once again to question him.

“Other than he's a psychopath dressed as a demon, nothin', I don't know where he is or who he is.” Aaron answered. Peter smacked his head against the car. “But I do know where he's gonna be.”

Peter looked up, both you and Ned inched closer to your screen.

“Really?”

“Yeah, this dude I used to work with. Supposed to make a deal with him.”

“Yes! Yeah!” Peter exclaimed, already walking away.

“Peter! He didn't give you a location!” You spoke up again.

“Right! Right, so where will he be?” He asked Aaron.

“Staten Island Ferry, 11:00.” He answered. Ned already pulling up the ferry on his laptop.

“Thank you! Hey, that'll dissolve in two hours.” Peter pointed to the webbing on his hand.

“No, no! Come fix this!” Aaron demanded.

“Nope! You deserve it, you're a criminal!” Peter was walking away, giving him a quick wave, “Bye Mr. Criminal!”

“No! I got ice cream in here, man!”

Peter left without another word, making is way to the ferry with you and Ned guiding him. It was exhilarating, being behind the suit like this. You never thought you'd use what you learned on something as important as this, it always seemed to be wasted on harmless pranks or school assignments. But, sitting through all those computer science classes finally came in handy between you and Ned.

Now you felt you had some control over Spider-man, at least one hand on the wheel to guide Peter safely through his adventures. You couldn't quite name it yet, but you found that being his Girl in the Chair allowed you a sense of calm.

That was, until Peter arrived at the ferry.

Chapter 8

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