#set down your cards and throw away all your bargaining chips

[mymarifae]

i don't want to post here today can you guys just watch aventurine bidding farewell to his past self

[luvdsc]

too hot! hot damn!

what do you get when you mix red and blue together?

pairing :: lee taeyong x reader genre :: fluff / boyfriend au word count :: 2,121 words warnings :: a tiny paragraph about making out playlist :: cherry kisses (chungha) ⋆ daft pretty boys (bad suns) ⋆ hands on me (taeyeon) ⋆ crash my car (coin) ⋆ shy (hunny) author’s note :: to the insanely talented goddess who wrote the first nct fic i ever read nearly 3 years ago and still love to this day!!! i didn’t think i’d ever get to be friends with one of my favoritest writers on here, but here we are :’) ily els @taeyongtime​ ♡ 

“It’s hot.”

You’re draped across the old, yet still very plush couch, the kitschy pattern spread across it now fondly regarded as one of the things that transforms this dingy little place from a shoebox apartment into home. The thin spaghetti strap of your faded tie-dyed tank top from your old sorority days hangs limply off of your shoulder, threatening to fall even more when you slump over to the left. The simple drawstring shorts you have on barely cover your legs, but you contemplate tossing them off still because it’s just. So. Damn. Hot.

“It’s hot!” you whine even louder, throwing your arms up in the air before letting them flop down onto the cushions dramatically. The nearby open window only blows in a measly little breeze that does nothing except dry the sweat on your skin for a few glorious seconds before it reappears like a stubborn stain. Your boyfriend only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of said window and using one of his Nylon magazines as a makeshift fan.

Taeyong agrees, flapping the glossy pages in front of his face desperately. “It’s too hot.”

Two days consisting of barely surviving the power outage creeps into a third, the prospect of having AC again anytime soon becoming extremely bleak. The transformer had completely blown out, and the electric company finally sent out a crew to fix it earlier this morning. The estimated restoration was initially set to noon, but it was pushed back until 3 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 10 p.m., then 5 a.m., and now the big black bolded letters spelling out “undetermined” mocks you from the screen of your phone that's already set to the lowest brightness setting to conserve battery.

To make it worse, your city was suffering a heat wave, temperatures spiking to 105 degrees Fahrenheit every single day and simmering down to 80 during the night before climbing the thermostat again. The raging thunderstorm that plagued last night only resulted in unexpected humidity, making your clothes stick to you like a second skin.

“Make it less hot,” you moan, blowing air upwards towards your forehead in an attempt to cool down in the slightest way possible.

“I can’t control the weather, babe, but I can get you a popsicle?” Taeyong sluggishly pushes himself into a sitting position to face you. The shiny magazine in his hand still flounders around until he gives up on it and tosses it aside.

You turn your head, cheek pressing into the couch cushion, as you squint at him. “We don’t have any left. We took all our food from the fridge to Doyoung’s place. I can’t believe that bastard has a gigantic generator and is flourishing in his stupid air conditioned apartment and making frozen sangrias, while his best friends are about to die from heatstroke.”

You had sent back a rather crass Snapchat back to Doyoung after he sent one earlier of his perfect, Instagram story worthy, iced alcoholic beverage. It’s honestly a miracle that he didn’t toss your beloved brown sugar boba ice cream bars out onto his pristine balcony with picture perfect potted plants to perish. That man can still hold onto a grudge even after he’s on his deathbed and descending into the fiery pits.

Taeyong stands up and slowly ambles towards the refrigerator. “I saved two popsicles in the freezer. I figured it’d stay cold enough and not melt if we ate them soon.”

“Oh my god, that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position before finally being able to, watching your boyfriend open the freezer and pull out the last two saving graces.

“Do you want blue raspberry or cherry?”

He holds out the two icy sweets in front of you, one in each hand. You already know that he secretly wants the red one; it’s been his favorite ever since he was five and tried his very first one from the ice cream truck that still comes around his parents’ neighborhood. But you also know that he always lets you choose first and wouldn’t complain if you take that one.

You reach out and pluck the blue one from his grasp, and he smiles happily, eyes crinkling in the corners as he eagerly unwraps the cherry flavored one and shoves it in his mouth, tossing the wrapper into the nearby wicker trash basket.

He drops down onto the empty space next to you, reclining back and slouching in his seat. The two of you sit there peacefully, side by side and enjoying the cold snacks, until he wordlessly slides over, pressing the side of his arm and leg against yours.

“Move back,” you complain, shoving him over to his original position. “It’s hot, and you’re making it worse.”

“So are you calling me hot?” Taeyong wriggles his eyebrows at you before taking a bite of his popsicle, much to your horror. He moves closer to you again for the sole sake of annoying you.

“First off, I’m calling you sweaty. Secondly, did you just bite your ice cream?” You throw him a dirty look before moving over and turning to sit with your back against the arm rest, throwing your legs over his lap.

Taeyong slightly pouts at you, munching on yet another chunk of his popsicle and ignoring the way you wrinkle your nose in disdain. “What’s wrong with that? It’s melting, and I don’t want it to drip and get my hand all sticky.”

You can’t believe that you just discovered your boyfriend is a psychopath. He’s going to the same circle of hell as people who pour milk in before cereal and those who hate mint chocolate chip ice cream once he leaves this earth (He can even say hi to Doyoung as he descends to eternal damnation).

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before we started dating?” You are absolutely appalled. Horrified. Disgusted. This is the biggest relationship deal breaker you have ever come across.

“Next, you’re gonna say you hate me because I don’t like pineapple on pizza,” he says as his free hand settles on the top of your thigh, gently tapping rhythmically against it absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, you absolute heathen.” You really thought Taeyong was the perfect man of your dreams, but you unfortunately realize belatedly that even he has flaws. Some inexcusable ones, in fact. 

In the midst of your lamenting, you fail to notice melting sugar slowly trickling down until it leaves a sticky mess all over your hand. Desperately, you toss the empty popsicle stick into the nearby waste basket before licking off the remnants of your icy blue treat from your fingers.

“See? It melted all over you. I told you so,” Taeyong childishly sticks out his tongue as he waves his clean hand and empty popsicle stick around as if to emphasize his point.

“Your tongue’s red,” you say, chuckling slightly, and his eyes widen at this newfound revelation.

“Wait, stick out your tongue,” he demands as he throws away the wooden stick, and you comply with his request. He grins, delighted. “Yours is blue!”

He sticks out his tongue again, almost going cross eyed as he tries to catch a glimpse of his own. At that, your eyes zero in on his cherry stained lips, and an ingenious idea pops up in your mind as the sudden urge to kiss your boyfriend silly makes itself very known.

“Hey, wanna play a game, Yongie?” you ask slyly, and his attention immediately turns to you at the word “game,” interest piqued and eyes fixated on you.

“What kind of game?” he inquires cautiously, taking note of the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You look like you’re up to no good, and your boyfriend wouldn’t be surprised if you have something up your metaphorical sleeve (Because nobody sane enough would be wearing something with sleeves in this weather from hell. In fact, you’re 66.6% percent certain that those fiery pits are probably cooler compared to here).

“Too hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he acknowledges, shaking his head in agreement, and you laugh, fanning yourself with your hands. “No, silly, I meant the game.” 

“It’s called ‘too hot’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you confirm, nodding your head. The expression of skepticism on his face says it all, so you throw in your bargaining chip.

“I hid a chocolate bar in the freezer’s ice chest. The winner can have it.”

His doe eyes immediately light up at the mention of his favorite sweet, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay, how do I play?”

“We kiss,” you start, and he’s already pulling you towards him enthusiastically, causing soft laughter to bubble up from your throat, before you swat his hands away. “Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t done explaining it yet! There’s no touching allowed.”

“That’s no fun,” Taeyong whines, lips jutting out into a tiny pout that you want to kiss away already. “You said this is a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“But you’re getting kisses, and it’s already hot so it’s better this way,” you coax, and he relents with a drawn out sigh, and you quietly cheer. “Okay, ready?”

Taeyong gives you a tiny nod, and you grin before leaning in, eyes fluttering close. You gently place your lips against his, and he holds still. But then, a few seconds later, you feel his fingers barely grazing your cheek, and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“Baby, I told you that you can’t touch!”

“That rule is dumb,” he complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. You frown at him, pouting until he gives in again because it’s you and he’d cross oceans and climb mountains for you.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he grumbles, glowering as he absentmindedly cards his hand through his hair, and you positively beam at him, and the sulking expression on his face softens almost instantly.

“What if we do baby steps first?” You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting up on your knees and facing him. He fully turns to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

You lean forward and peck his cheek before moving back to your original position. “Like that. Now your turn.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Taeyong leans forward and gingerly places a kiss on your forehead with an endearing smile. You inch forward and kiss his other cheek. He plants a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, and you lean in to delicately leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and you do the same to the opposite side, much to his utter frustration.

This time, Taeyong chases after you when you pull away. You let out a noise of surprise as he gently tugs you forward, crashing his lips against yours and muffling your laughter, and you find yourself straddling your boyfriend. Your hands wind up tangled in his hair, while his arms lock around your waist and hold you close, game be damned.

You can taste a faint trace of cherry, causing the corners of your mouth to curl into the minutest hint of a smile before you press your mouth against his more firmly as he kisses you back eagerly until you both run out of air, pulling away breathlessly with identical smiles.

“You lost,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger as your other hand curls around his shirt. He makes a face at you, his hands still resting on your waist, and you find that you don’t mind the warmth of them against your skin even in this ruthlessly blazing weather.

“But you’ll share the chocolate, right?” he mumbles, face still flushed and lips redder than before. He traces soft patterns against your hip as you tilt your head to the side, faking your hesitation.

“Hmm, I don’t know, should I? I won fair and square.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Meanie.” 

You laugh, sliding off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him (albeit a little unwillingly, but it’s still hot as hell unfortunately, and conserving body heat together isn’t helping at all). Your boyfriend frowns, mostly because you’re no longer sitting in his lap, but partly because he doesn’t understand why you’re laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Your grin widens, eyes sparkling like you know something he doesn’t (because you do). “Baby, your tongue’s purple.”

Taeyong turns a shade brighter than his favorite popsicle flavor.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Guess what, guys? IT’S WEDNESDAY! >:D You know what that means~!

TIME TO SHARE!

I’m excited because I finally, finally found the inspiration and motivation to write chapter 13 of my main fic! And I used the good old, ‘And he returned...’ technique! X’D

Time to talk about mages and templars everybody!

“Ma halla,” Cyfrin’s voice came forward, laced with tiredness and unusually serious as his eyes fell upon his sister, “the Chantry has not had control over either side for years. If they had, the Chantry in Kirkwall wouldn't have met the fate that it did.” He picked up the stick they had been using to tend the fire, giving the logs a gentle poke and sending sizzling embers upwards, “Now, it is merely a war of endurance; who can last the longest and who can end it with the most spite, the most damage. Blood will run for many moons as it has for several years now. Except this time, light is being shone on those crimson puddles rather than being mopped up with a," A finger rose to slender lips, a pantomime of silence and secrecy.

Fane sighed, grimacing a bit when Mhairi shifted against his side and watching those embers rise and then blink out of existence. Cyfrin was right. This was a war without end, and each side was merely swinging at whatever happened to move now. Power corrupted, and it had done so in this instance; mages overwhelmed by the taste of air, magic responding with giddy excitement; templars breaking the chains that held their hands and feet in place, as well as their swords. Both had never known what it meant to be free, and now that they had it in aces, they couldn’t cope with it.  All the common folk, them included, could do was wait it out, like a parent waiting for their child, who refused to listen, to settle down. That was all there was to it.

Fane slowly rubbed his palms together, wringing his fingers a bit as he spoke, “Whatever it is now, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess made for a different rag,” With a tired movement, he let his head roll to the side a bit to rest atop his sister’s, relishing in its silkiness. To think, he had almost abandoned that comfort for fear. He continued with another sigh, “All that matters is staying away from it. It isn’t our fight; it never has been.”

Silence passed between them all after his words had fallen, the crackling of the fire and the drone of crickets and cicadas the only sounds to fill the air. Cyfrin only gave him a nod that said, 'I agree' before going back to idly poking at the fire. However, Fane could feel something like a tense ripple from Mhairi, her body suddenly rigid where it rested against him.

Shit, Fane thought, growling a bit as he recognized this rolling wave exuding off Mhairi. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence passed before the words he had been dreadfully waiting for passed lips gingerly being bitten into.

"Is it really not our fight, though?," Mhairi asked in a sheepish whisper. Fane watched from over his nose as delicate hands appeared from under fur and cotton, pink with Fereldan chill and palms up, "Or at least, my fight? I mean, I'm a mage, so really--"

"Mhairi," Fane cut off his sister's words, voice dropping low in warning, "Whatever's going through your head right now, end it."

Fane caught the flicker of amber from across the way, their owner knowing where this was going as much as he did, but he was more focused on ice as it hardened before him. He was not going to entertain this ridiculous train of thought! Was his sister mad!?

"But, brother--!"

"Enough," Fane snapped with a harshness he rarely used with her, "Do you want a templar on your heels!? Do you want to be silenced again!?"

Nostrils flared as he brandished a glare downwards, but his irritation cooled as Mhairi's icy gaze melted and turned downwards, guilt and pain in turquoise. Fane frowned deeply at that. Shit, he hadn't meant to…! Damn it all! This was why he should have left on his own! All he did was pull down, down, down! He could never find the right words!

"Of course I don't want those things, brother. You know that," Mhairi said with tightness, voice like a taut cord before letting out a tiny sigh, down-turned eyes staring pointedly at her hands--the tools for which another tool could be wielded in, "It just...feels wrong to turn away and let not only the mages and templars suffer, but innocent people, too. The people on farms and in villages didn't ask to be involved, but they are." A gentle blue glow enshrouded slender fingers and smooth palms, making Fane's nose twitch in irritation and his stomach roll uncomfortably, but he watched it same as her, "I guess I just want to help them, to show them that it doesn't have to end in flames. Magic is beautiful, and it hurts to know no one but the Dalish recognize that."

Fane listened, rapt and attentive even though he knew his face showed otherwise. Mhairi had vocalized these thoughts before to him, and while he understood where she was coming from, that still didn't mean this was their fight. What was there to gain from throwing themselves into the pan? Nothing but an early grave, that's what. Or worse yet, tranquility. The very idea of that happening to his sister made him sick. How such a practice came to be was beyond him, and yet, it made his mind prickle and pull with those odd feelings of ‘wrongness’. Obviously, stripping a person of their emotions was vile and grotesque and disgusting, but it felt like something more to him. It always felt like more with so little.

Fane let out a long sigh through his nose at himself and his sister, the air condensing in front of him, "It's not your job to present that to the world, Mhairi." He shifted a bit, the fur lining of his cloak brushing against the bottom of his cheeks as he did so. He was starting to get warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Isn't it?," his sister forwarded, pressed, pushed, sparkling eyes slowly rolling upwards to look at him; the glow of her hands fading away to let firelight take center stage again, "I’m a--”

Fane growled, his chest rattling from the depth of it. “Yes, you’re a mage, My, but that’s more likely to get you killed, or worse, made tranquil than understood,” He met her slowly narrowing gaze unflinchingly before sighing tiredly, shoulders slumping and voice softening at the look of hurt in icy blue, “Listen: stop chasing after trouble. No good can come from involving yourself in this mess,” His tired eyes shifted to the fire once more, watching it dance and consume both air and forest wood, “This continent is engulfed in war, and it’s not your job to fix the mistakes of others just because of what you are. That type of blind thinking is exactly why all that’s happened, happened.”

He felt his fists ball up against where his hands were resting between his thighs from anxiety and frustration, the skin along his arms pinching to where he could finally feel his scars start to act up. Great. Just what he needed alongside all this ridiculousness. Why did his sister always have to play this card? Yes, she was a mage, but there were a thousand more who could, but wouldn’t do what his sister wished to. And why? Because they knew it was pointless as narrow perspectives were set in the stone of ages.

Time and time again mages had tried and failed to show the world the intended use for magic. Time and time again restrictions were set ever tighter because of those harmless displays, the Chantry crying, ‘Demon, demon! Blood magic, blood magic!’, and a single, single show of defense against such accusations was treated as a literal felony. Now, the Fade touched were doing the only thing they could think to do after so many disappointments; fight. A caged animal was bound to break the door holding it back, and that was exactly what had happened to every Circle; they broke.

They went silent, voices stolen straight from their throats, emotions ripped away so as to be unable to defend themselves any longer, and the beauty his sister desperately wished to show no longer relevant as it had no place in war, in a world where beauty was a stranger. Fane didn’t have much allegiance to either side, both were foolish and pathetic and tiring, and despite his personal experience with magic, he didn’t detest it. It had its uses, just not on him and that was because he didn’t relish getting uncontrollably ill. He was open minded enough to know magic hadn’t been the true culprit, it had only been like the innocents in this pointless war; used against its will. It had been the blade that carved the stone of his body, but it hadn’t been the hand to wield it.

So, he would admit he felt sorry for the endlessly warring factions, even the templars despite his personal feelings regarding them. To be played like a fiddle by a bunch of tottering zealots, zealots that used ‘faith’ as their bargaining chip to garner influence and power while declaring, ‘It is the Maker’s will’. Sadly, despite how thin the veil of deceit was, the people fell for it like raindrops during a heavy downpour, fast and hard. Was it the humans’ ‘god’s’ will to rip away independent thought? To sunder the minds of those who broke the leash long having held them back?

To indiscriminately kill another on the basis of ‘you’re a mage’ or ‘you’re a templar’ or ‘you’re a threat to our power’? Apparently so. Tragic, but there was nothing to be done about it now and Mhairi needed to understand that.

She needed to understand there was no ‘beauty’ in war.

Mhairi let out a disgruntled huff before her form shifted away from him to sit up. Fane squeezed his already tight fists tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking from the force as he watched his sister rise up from the log, her action calm, but her eyes and face held frustration in delicate edges and firelit ice. He felt his expression go hard as he sat up straight, silently mourning the loss of momentary comfort. Again, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he even try using words?

“I think I can see perfectly well, brother. I saw the corpses mutilated beyond recognition, the burnt buildings and the sacked ones, the people crying over what they lost, children wailing as their parents wouldn’t wake up. I saw,” Mhairi said, lilt strained and lips twitching with the urge to bend downwards as a forlorn mutter came after, “I wish you would stop treating me like I don’t, like a child.”

With that, Fane watched his sister quickly stride away towards where they had pitched tents, darkened cloak fluttering behind her and kicking up the dusting of snow with her partially bare feet. It was only when Mhairi completely disappeared from his sight, safely burrowing into her tent, did he let out a sigh, the exhalation hard and long.

“Damn it all,” Fane cursed out under his breath, bringing hand out and up from his cloak to rub at his face. He felt ten years older all of a sudden. Scratch that, a thousand years older. How much older could he potentially feel at this rate?

“Tactful as always, ma falon.”

----

Fane can be incredibly harsh, and a downright jerk sometimes. He doesn’t mince words or give platitudes. He says it how he sees it. 

Tagging: @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @drag-on-age @a-drama-addict @little-lightning-lavellan @whataboutbugs @blueheaded @aymayzing @rosella-writes @1000generations and anyone else that’d like to share! (no pressure! <3)

[aphroditestummyrolls]

i wrote a fairytale au moment

my country has reached a terrifying level of disarray and i am scared. so i wrote some escapism (literally) for Joe and Nicky. i was even inspired by this to write a whole fairytale au fic!!! it is long-- like, my star wars fics level of long, and im very excited about it. it feels good to be excited about something lol. 

Folks that wanted to be tagggged: @ilostmyothersock, @littlerosetrove, @antukini, @sunriseseance, and @polarcell <3333 i hope you enjoy it! let me know if you do. 

His heart pounded in his chest, the nighttime’s dewy grass sending him slipping and sliding as he darted between the trees. He didn’t dare take his usual, well-trodden path. Not tonight— not if his father had sent anyone after him. 

The gardener’s cottage was on the edge of the palace grounds, where the lush, even lawns, sculpted shrubs and elaborate floral displays gave way to the foothills of the mountains. The ancient groves of chestnut trees were wilder, monuments to the artistry of a natural, unpruned life. Silver blue moonlight shone on their trunks, guiding Yusuf’s frantic steps as he dove deeper into the woods. He had slipped out of his chamber window without a sound that night— just as he had many nights before. There were no guards stationed out this far. He’d left the last of them blissfully ignorant,  back by the last of the rose trellises— he knew it, but the urgency of tonight was twisting him into knots. He had to be sure. He had to take all precautions. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he accidentally exposed this secret. 

Finally, the endless shadowy forest gave way to a familiar clearing. The iron fist clenched around his heart loosened some, and he heaved a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

The cottage was small. The roof leaked when it stormed, and the front door had gone crooked with age, providing a gale-force draft that rattled the windows on windy nights. The stones used to build it were near as old as the trees around it, starting to crack after weathering centuries of snowy winters and sun-baked summers. 

It was small, yes. But he knew that the bed was warm, that the verdant rows of growing vegetables smelled like earth and honey under the sun’s heat, and that he felt relaxed there. It felt more like a home than the Palace of Genoa, where he was all but trapped under the constant gaze of gossiping strangers. It was even more comforting than the silks and spices of home, across the sea where his family and his people ruled. 

His father had told him that he was accompanying him to Genoa to discuss trade imports between their kingdoms. He had said that they were to spend the year solidifying their connections with the Genoese royal family, drawing up important contracts— it's time you learned a thing or two about compromise, Yusuf. 

That was what he said. 

Yusuf rapped desperately at the door, a ragged half a sob punching out of his throat when he realized that he was finally there, on the flagstone threshold of someplace warm and safe, and— 

“What’s happened? Yusuf?” The door opened to the smoldering orange light of the hearth, the brightest lantern hastily lit by the sleep-ruffled man blinking owlishly at him. “You said it would be too dangerous to meet tonight, while you met with your father…” 

Yusuf would have laughed at his sweet face, if he weren’t about to cry from relief. 

“He means to marry me to her.” He said, shaping the words outside of his panicked head for the first time. They felt too loud in the quiet night, too starkly horrible against the pristine haven of the trees. “The Princess, she—“ Yusuf choked. 

Only now did he notice how his hands trembled, the way his vision was going steadily blurrier— he blinked against the heat building behind his eyes. The summer night was cool, but not cold, yet he still shivered. He shivered until a work-rough hand took pity on him. Nicolo reached out and pulled Yusuf into him, like he had all those months ago, back when everything changed. 

He pulled him through the threshold into the cottage, the floorboards creaking and the door swinging shut behind them as Yusuf spun around to immediately throw his arms around his love’s shoulders. The fog of sleep was gone when Nico’s pale eyes locked on his, suddenly and horribly awake. A hot tear broke ranks and burned a track down Yusuf’s cheek. 

Nico made a sad little noise. It rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, a hum and a moan, the quiet syllable of no hidden in behind his teeth— like mourning. He cradled Yusuf’s face, his thumb brushing the wetness away. 

“When are you to be betrothed?” He asked, his voice hoarse, like the sentence had to be yanked out of him. 

Yusuf just shook his head, the thought of it flipping his stomach. “They intend to announce the engagement by the end of the summer.” 

Something broke behind Nicolò’s eyes, and Yusuf knew what he was thinking. They had barely a fortnight left. The arm around his waist squeezed tighter, pressing their chests flush. 

He could feel their hearts, pounding in time with each other. Usually it was a comfort, but it was a ticking clock between the two of them now. Their moments together were numbered. 

Nicolo shuffled them around after a few tender seconds— breathing each other’s air, stroking over each other’s backs, existing in shared space— and maneuvered Yusuf to sit on the edge of his bed. It was still warm, the covers rumpled. 

“I’m sorry to wake you. I just… I had to see you.” 

Nico shook his head, “No apologies, Tesoro.” He puttered around the room, stoking the fire from embers to flames before setting the kettle over the highest heat. He settled on his knees, knelt at Yusuf’s feet to study him face to face. 

He brushed Yusuf’s tousled curls off his forehead, and gazed into his eyes. His love’s eyes were a pale, silvery green, but tonight, they looked darker. In the dim glow of the cottage at night, they were bluer than usual, contrasted with the amber firelight. Yusuf leaned into his palm as it traced his hairline, down over his beard and jaw. Nico sat in silence, watching him with the gentleness of someone patient enough to watch the flowers grow. He was waiting. 

“I…” he didn’t know where to start, what to say, “She’s so… She’s so old.” 

Nico’s smile was unmistakably sad, little more than a quirk of lips, but his nod of agreement spurred Yusuf on. 

“It has nothing to do with her looks, really. She’s just so old, and so wasteful, and her gaze on me is so… I just… I understand that I’ve put off marriage as long as my father can take. But she’s 25 years my senior. Her children are my age, Nicolo!” 

He had told these things to his father— he had begged him not to go through with the arrangement, not to agree to the Genoese king’s proposal for his daughter’s hand. It’s already done, he’d said, it was arranged months ago. 

Yusuf had no choice in the matter. 

“I suppose it’s stupid that I was surprised.” He groused, his throat feeling tight and his voice thick. “It’s been so long since any of his children were more than bargaining chips to him— I’m not his son, I’m a new trade route.” 

The kettle on the fire began to whistle, but Nico was sure to take his hands and kiss his knuckles before standing up to fix their tea. 

Left to drift in his mind, Yusuf chewed his lip and floated through his memories, mentally listing the siblings that he’d lost to distant royal families. Only his eldest brother, Farouk, would never leave home. The throne was his, but what about the rest of them? What was the point of having children, of lovingly raising a family, if only to scatter them to the four winds in exchange for trade routes, dowries, and peace treaties? 

It would be different if Mama was alive, he thought with a despairing little whimper. She wouldn’t let him do this…

“Yusuf, breathe.” His love’s voice broke into his thoughts, calling him back from the tangle of his mind. A steaming mug of rosehips, mint and honey was pressed into his palm, and Nico took it on himself to mold his hand around the warm pottery. “D’you have it?” 

“If I say no, will you keep holding my hand like that?” Will you never let me go? he added silently, sure that his eyes were saying it all for him. Nico’s grip was warm and solid, and the calluses felt rough against him. It tethered him to reality, right there on his love’s bed. His pale gaze was soft and glimmering a little. Like he was going to cry. Like he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to Yusuf anymore than Yusuf could bear the idea of letting Nicolo go. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, reaching out his free hand to card into his long hair. “Don’t let them take me, Nicolo— come away with me.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t mean to spring this half formed, half delirious, half perfect plan on him so soon after waking him up in the middle of the night. The words fell from his lips, unwarranted and chaotic, but suddenly he was desperate to go, run, and be free. 

Before he knew what was happening, the hot mug was lifted from his hand and Nico’s were on him, cupping his cheeks to slam their lips together. His waist was wedged between Yusuf’s thighs, his arms slipping down to wrap around him and tug his hips closer while Yusuf twined both of his hands into his love’s hair,  desperate and trembling with the need to have him as close as he could be. 

He nearly gasped with the need for air by the time they dared to pull away, but he missed his love’s lips the second they weren’t on his. Nico pressed their foreheads together, drinking in deep gulps of air, tear tracks wet on his cheeks and clumping his lashes as he fisted his hands in Yusuf’s tunic. 

Yusuf’s hands in his hair slid down to stroke gently along his cheeks, feeling the wetness and studying how it gleamed in the glow of the hearth. 

He held tight to Yusuf, fingers flexing in the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes. His jaw worked, jumping the way it did when he was holding his tongue. Everything about him was grim and elegant, as still as a statue. 

He was so beautiful, and so sad. 

“Why d’you look at me like that, Hayati?” He sighed, his own heart gripped in a terrible vice. 

Nico swallowed, lips twisted with concern for a moment before he finally sighed and said, “I cannot ask you to leave your life, Yusuf. You are of such importance—“ 

“I am the sixth child of the Tunisian King. Farouk is his heir, and he already has three children of his own. I am nothing more than a mountain pass into the north to my father. My people barely know a thing about me— to them I’m simply the handsome, unmarried oddity of the royal family. My love, you know the wealthy trappings of royal life have never been something I need— but I need a life where I am appreciated and loved for who I am! I need simple comforts and a partner to walk hand and hand with through life. I need you, Nicolo.” 

The fire crackled, and the cottage was quiet. Yusuf’s chest heaved, and tears streamed down Nicolò’s face. His bright eyes shone with a reverent light, like he had in the early days of falling in love— like he still did, in the pale morning hours when Yusuf was still half asleep by his side. It was as if he was falling in love all over again. Awestruck and grateful, his eyes looking like glimmering, full moons as he beheld Yusuf like a fallen star. 

It took a long moment for Nico to find the words. Yusuf stroked his hair, hands still trembling from the adrenaline, even as the knots in his gut began to loosen. 

“Yusuf, you…” he trailed off, rose back up on his knees and kissed him like an act of worship— firm, tender, salty with tears and trembling just as much as Yusuf was. Nico pulled slowly back, just far enough to nuzzle their noses and look him in the eyes. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”  

“Will you come with me?” 

“To the ends of the earth. Yes, Tesoro.” He sucked in a breath and let it out long, in a sigh that seemed to clear out all the corners of Yusuf’s cluttered mind. And then, he smiled. 

Nicolo was a man of intricate reactions. There was beauty in each and every one, but it was a private, special thing to see that broad, happy grin. 

“Drink this while it’s still hot— it’ll help your heart calm itself.” He fussed, pressing the mug back into Yusuf’s palm, and this time, he took it gladly. Nico stood to his full height, standing over him where he sat for a brief moment while Yusuf didn’t dare take his eyes off of him. Looking back down at him with the glow of something divine in his eyes, Nico bent himself down to press a soft kiss to Yusuf’s brow. 

“Well, my Prince— where shall we go?” 

Yusuf grinned back, something bright and hopeful growing in his chest. 

They had planning to do. 

********

Yusuf gazed up from where he laid in the glen, soft grass and wildflowers under his feet. The sun dappled the forest floor, streaming down into the parting of the trees where the cottage sat. Nico flickered his lips into one of his barely-there smiles as he gazed down at him where Yusuf had pillowed his head on his thigh. 

Summer was nearly done. The full, green leaves were burnished gold around the edges by the hot sunlight; the garden smelled heavy with ripe harvests and vibrant flowers; and— on the far side of the palace grounds, beyond chestnut groves and manicured lawns, and terraces— the home of the King was glittering with silk flags and banners for the harvest ball. The last days leading up to the festival were certain to be wildly busy— there wouldn’t be a single moment where Yusuf could slip by unnoticed. Nicolo would be fussing about in the palace gardens with last minute preparations from dawn to dusk. 

Usually, Yusuf would be tearing his hair out from the stress. He couldn’t stand the pomp and circumstance, the endless preparations of a ball. He spent hours per day, standing stock still and poked with pins while he was fitted for another itchy, Genoese costume. King Vincenzo was seeking out any opportunity to discipline the palace staff, and the courtiers got particularly insufferable as the long awaited date came to peacock around at the height of their finery. Even back at home, festivals were terrible, but in Genoa, Yusuf’s father had become even more strict. You are representing our kingdom! Act like it! was the most common phrase, hissed into Yusuf’s ear for the most minor infractions. He was constantly watching him, his shrewd eyes looking for any moment to say stand like royalty, Yusuf— shoulders back. 

He hated standing on ceremony and the never-ending scrutiny— but, this time was the last time. His escape was in sight. He didn’t complain a single time about the drapes of scratchy, heavy fabric piled on his shoulders, or the way standing with such rigid posture made his back ache. He took each new indignity with a smile so gracious that even his father was smiling back. 

Thinking of Nicolo made every pinprick more bearable. Lying there in the sun, eyes closed to bask in the warmth, he thought about the expertly packed saddlebags under his love’s bed. He listened to his soft humming— a tune Yusuf had only heard when he was rearing his most delicate seedlings, or on their quietest, gentlest mornings together— and the way it blended into the sounds of the birds. 

Yusuf had never felt so certain of his path. 

He was so content that he didn’t notice that the fingers twining their way through his curls had gone until they must have been missing from him for quite a while. He cracked open one eye, peering up at his love with mild accusation. Nico wasn’t paying attention to his pouting lips, though. 

Sitting up to get a better look at him, Yusuf found Nico’s deft hands full of colorful flowers. He weaved their stems back and forth, his steady gaze flicking over to Yusuf with a sparkle in them. 

“If I didn’t know you like I do, I’d have thought you’d fallen asleep.” He chuckled. 

Yusuf sat close to his side, able to look over his shoulder and study the intricate bouquet. “What a beautiful braid.” He murmured, awe in his voice. 

Some of the blooms were the small, wild ones that grew in the glen, poking out between the wide circles of bright blue coneflowers and puffs of golden orange chrysanthemums that Nico must’ve pulled up from the garden bed beside them. 

“Let me show you how?” Nico replied, phrased as a question even as he handed over his work for Yusuf’s inspection. “It’s not as hard as it looks, I promise.” He said, tiny smile tilting his lips again. 

Perhaps it was his imagination, or his own excitement, but it seemed as if Nicolò’s smiles had gotten wider, his eyes gone softer. The rod of nervous tension that always clung to his spine in the days before a ball wasn’t as unyielding and stiff. 

Nico was more at peace. He weaved the stems of his beloved flowers in, out and under each other, dutifully guiding Yusuf’s hands as he collected his own flowers. He was right— it wasn’t as difficult as it had looked. The rhythm was steady and relaxing, a balm on the last of his nerves as he tucked flower after precious flower into his braid of grass. The crickets chirped, the birds sang, and the sun fed the earth— Yusuf sat side by side with his love, and it felt right. 

“You know, I have been thinking.” Nico murmured, his rich accent nothing more than a purr into the summer breeze. 

Yusuf chuckled, knocking their shoulders together, “Dangerous.” 

Nico huffed an indignant sound, but his eyes rolled playfully when he met his gaze, “Of course, of course— thinking is only for those supremely educated, princely philosophers. How dare I—“ 

“No, no no no!” Yusuf shook out his curls, letting out a full, genuine laugh, “Tell me every thought that has ever passed through your head, Hayati— it is my privilege to be your audience.” He was grinning, laughing, cupping Nico’s sunkissed cheek and basking in the light of his eyes. “What were you thinking about?” 

Nico licked his lips, swallowing like his throat had gone dry as he maneuvered himself to face Yusuf, sitting on his knees like he had not so long ago. Something about it squeezed at Yusuf’s heart, his smile fading into seriousness as he waited. 

He carefully took and set down their braided flowers on the grass, scooping Yusuf’s hands up into his own. 

“If we are to truly leave this place, I want to do this properly.” He said, eyes clear and trained on him with an unwavering focus. “I love you, Yusuf, but I can’t promise any royal comforts, or an easy life. I have no ring or dagger to give,” his breath came out long and slow, intentionally calm even while his fingers squeezed around Yusuf’s hands. He let go, then, picking up his circlet of braided flowers to hold in his lap. “I can only promise you the kinds of beauty I can make grow. Would you…” 

His voice stuttered, his gaze dropping down to his lap and the blue flowers there, as if Yusuf was too blinding to look at. He could feel his smile splitting his cheeks, bright and unabashed, the cry of yes on the tip of his tongue, nearly jumping from his lips.

But he waited, patiently holding space for his love. He reached out and cupped his hand over his wrist, feeling his pulse race under the delicate skin, just to make Nico meet his gaze again. 

“Would you marry me, my Prince?” 

Yes. “Yes, my Gardener. I will marry you.” He replied, whispered like a secret, but more resonant and proud than anything he’d ever said. He was grinning, “Though, I’m not sure how much of a Prince I’ll be by the time we wed.” 

Nico huffed one of his little laughs, meeting Yusuf with one of his rare, open smiles as he lifted the circlet of blue and orange and braided white to rest gently on top of his curls. 

“No, but you will always be mine.” He said, swiping a tear from Yusuf’s cheek, not unlike he had done so recently, for such different reasons. It was more breath than sound, matching Yusuf’s hush. 

I’ve never been so proud to wear a crown, he thought. 

With his chest feeling expansive and warm, his cheeks hot with a pink flush, Yusuf hastily reached out for his own circlet of flowers. Their wide, fragrant petals and little sun-yellow centers felt silky under his fingers as he lifted it to Nico’s brow. 

“If I maintain such royalty, then, my husband must, too.” He replied, voice nearly lost in the birdsong. “King of my heart, my true love.” 

Nico’s face had gone soft and slack with a familiar expression— as if Yusuf was the sun itself, as if his warmth and light had singlehandedly brought him to life. 

Yusuf let himself be held as Nicolo took his face in his hands and leaned in close. He pressed his lips to his tear-stained cheek, and then the other. He peppered the smallest, gentlest kisses across the freckles on his nose, and Yusuf wrapped his hands around his love’s wrists to keep him close. The last kiss was softly, loving left on the crest of his brow bone, tender enough to bring the forest to a standstill. 

[redstainedsocks]

The Vow

Pirate AU, part two! I don't have any more written than this, and I don't have a whole lot of plot planned for it, I'll just come back periodically and have fun in this fantasy version of the setting. Open to requests/suggestions if there's something you want to see let me know!

Notes: Decker's name changed to Ecker for the AU because I couldn't write about ship decks and have a main character called Decker... I just couldn't... xD

Content: aftermath of whump, death threats, angst, emotional whump, captive whumpee, failed rescue

[Part one] [Main Series]

Archer’s breath was thick in his lungs. Words stuck in his throat. The world spun and then stopped only to start spinning again as he tried to comprehend what was happening around him. The same way it had a week ago.

He never wanted to be one to put his crew in danger, but the contract to salvage certain things from a wreckage of one of the King’s vessels paid well, so he’d taken the job. It should have been easy and simple. The wreck was washed up on some rocks and mostly intact but incapable of getting back out to sea. They were to retrieve the goods and the captain's logs and some important scrolls and deliver them back to home shores. Tidy, straightforward. He knew the risk of pirating was high on a washed up vessel but he had a fast, manoeuvrable ship and good men, it was as likely to be them who braved the rocky seas first as anyone else.

But... Ecker. In a sleek schooner, with his evil, rank men. Ecker had got there first and hell had broken loose. Archer’s ship was better equipped for it, more cannons, more trained men, it wouldn’t have been long before they could subdue and overcome, and he had just hoped there wouldn’t be too great a loss of life.

In the midst of the firefight, between cannon shots and gunpowder smoke, and frantic sailing, a man had been dragged onto Ecker’s deck. A man blindfolded, in a loose shirt, hands bound, and too far away to see properly.

“Hold fire!” Ecker had shouted across the space. “Hold fire or I will spill his guts across the deck!”

Archer dismissed it, at first, because he couldn’t back down or lose ground just for some poor sod caught prisoner on Ecker’s vessel. Only then Jordan had handed across a looking glass, as drained of colour as the sun-bleached sail above their heads. It had taken one look through the glass to recognise the man. He would know that face--even half obscured--anywhere.

Zach—back from the dead. Zach, not lost at sea as they’d thought, but taken captive and held without word for two long years. All while Archer sailed on without him, without even knowing he left Zach behind.

So the world stopped and he called a ceasefire even as his head spun, and walked onto a sandbank with Ecker to negotiate the freedom of the friend who he’d lost two years previously.

“He was lost, lost at sea.”

“Seems like he was very much found, to me,” Ecker had said, gloating, drinking in Archer’s distress.

“Why wait this long, why not reveal your hand before now?”

“I knew a day would come where he would be a useful bargaining chip. Why present that on a platter when I held all the cards? Now I have leverage, and a way to get my ship out of your sights.”

“Fine, leave him behind, and I’ll let you sail away. Unscathed. You have my word,” Archer had tried to say it without sounding like he was pleading.

“Oh I don’t want your word, young Captain, I want your gold.”

“And then you give us Zach? Unharmed?”

“I can’t say unharmed, it has been a long two years for the poor lad. But yes, you pay, and he stays alive, and I’ll throw in the important bounty from that there wreck for good measure, if you like. You’ll meet us at my chosen location as soon as you have the ransom… but if any of ye so much as look at my ship wrong as I take my leave he’ll be dead before you can say ‘Davy Jones’. Locker”

He’d told his men to hold steady while Ecker sailed off into the distance, and did all he could to gather the damn ransom Ecker had demanded, and in return he was supposed to get Zach’s life as well as the logs and scrolls Ecker had pilfered from the wrecked ship. Ecker would go free, but he’d have his friend, he’d get Zach back.

So why was he now walking out of the Keep empty handed?

Zach had been—god, dragged away, without a care for his well being—and he’d rounded on Ecker with a snarl.

“What do you even want with him?”

“That’s my business, and if you want to keep your heads you’ll ask no more questions.”

“Tell me what can I do to persuade you? What will it cost? My life? You can take mine!”

“I want nothing you have to offer, and the look on your face is all the satisfaction I need. Now get out, before we throw you out… in pieces.”

Ecker’s threat had been real, he didn’t have to second guess that, so he took the chance to keep their heads. Their blades and guns and ammunition were dropped unceremoniously from the parapet above the gate after it slammed closed. Slammed and barred him from rescuing the one person he had sworn not to let down another time.

Turning his back on the Keep was the hardest thing he had ever done, it was surreal to place one foot in front of the other and walk away. And yet he was doing it. The sea was before him across the span of the small island, and his two most trusted crew were at his back.

So he walked, head swimming, just trying to keep them all alive. Treading the waters of his mind and trying to find some solution, a way out of this, even as it felt like drowning. His heart clenched as he cast one last look behind him at the Keep, half expecting to see a flash of dark hair at a window, a hand reaching for him. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he didn’t. He didn’t know if he imagined the scream ringing in his ears or if it was real.

“Archer, we can’t.”

Jordan’s voice was easy to tune out. He needed space to think. It was harrowing to consider leaving like this but he had nothing to hold over Ecker. “Nothing you have to offer.”

So maybe there was something, if he could just find it.

“Didn’t you see him, what they’re doing to him?”

Archer shuddered, pausing briefly before he kept walking through the scrubland. He’d seen. Zach’s bruised body, chafed and scarred wrists, how thin he was. More than that it was his eyes that told more than Archer could bear. They were haunted, hurting, desperate and then filled with hope that was snatched away so cruelly, so instantly.

“What if he doesn’t survive much longer?”

“Jordan,” Sasha snapped.

Archer held his head higher, it wouldn’t do to have Ecker’s men see him breakdown at the threshold of their own defences. He had to be stronger, prove he was better, not show how rattled he was. And Ecker had to have a weakness, something they could exploit. He wasn’t a god or a lord, he wasn’t even a good sailor, he just had enough people around him to make sure he couldn’t fail. If he could just get him alone, five minutes alone and he could best the man. But like this…

“Are you listening to me?” Jordan grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“No I'm not fucking listening to your petty whining! I'm thinking about how the hell we're going to get him out of there!” Archer said it in one breath and wrenched his arm loose. He buckled on his sword belt and stared above Jordan’s head, unwilling to meet his eyes..

“We can't do it here, not in this fortress, not so outnumbered,” Sasha said quietly from his right.

“No, we can’t,” he agreed.

“What’s the plan, Captain?” she replied.

“I don’t know yet, I have to think…”

“Archer, we can’t leave him here,” Jordan said and Archer finally made himself look at Jordan’s face, saw the pain there, and let that pain sink into him too. He’d carry all of their hurt, shoulder every burden.

“And if we get ourselves killed today, trying the impossible, who will come for him then?” he asked quietly.

Jordan paused, licked his lips, and dragged his eyes back to the Keep with a barely perceivable nod. “I understand, but to see him like that…. There are hurts there that even I may not be able to heal.”

“I know. It pains me too. And we will not leave him to rot with them, we only have to be smart about it. We wait, and we make a plan, and then we bring him home.”

He didn’t wait for a reply but turned and walked on, to the small beach where their row boat had been dragged high upon the sand. With practiced ease he hauled it back out into the water and tried to not to feel like a failure. It was only halfway back to the ship, with the spray stinging his eyes, did he finally let a few stray tears fall--when he could pretend it was just the splash of the waves on his face. He’d have to be strong again once they reached the ship, when he had to be Captain again and not just a man.

He wouldn’t look back. This was not the end of it. He vowed it with one hand on the pommel of his sword and the other on his heart.

I will save you, I will come back for you, this I swear.

[Taglist, let me know if you want to be added or removed from either the AU or the regular list! @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @hurting-fictional-people @lonesome--hunter @crowned-avery @extrabitterbrain @firewheeesky @outofangband @0idril0]

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Reunite Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date (and Season 2) which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

It’s vital to understand what’s going on in Season 2 so you wouldn’t get confused in this date. Do read this post before proceeding :)

Parallel World Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Shaw

The date begins with MC standing outside LFG

She recalls her father telling her about their company receiving an investment from a four-year-old company which he believes will become a worthy partner in the future

Of course, that company is LFG

Back at the present, she muses that LFG isn’t as grand as the LFG in her memory. And that if everything remains the same as in the original timeline, she would meet Victor after four years

She recalls the “warning”: “Your unintentional actions may lead to irretrievable consequences.”

When she looks up with a bitter smile, she sees Victor across the street

I lower my head, countless emotions flooding into my heart - happiness and sadness... until a foreign voice enters my mind. 

??: Miss MC, nice to meet you. There is a message from the “past” here. CEO Victor, you may begin. 

MC: ?!

Victor: Dummy, what are you hesitating about? 

Victor’s voice rings in my head clearly. I freeze in place.

“Message from the past?” 

What is this... why can I hear Victor’s voice? 

The Victor on the opposite side of the road doesn’t notice my existence at all, and exits my field of vision. I press a hand to my forehead, thinking what happened earlier was a mere hallucination.

But his voice appears in my mind once again, as clear as day.

Victor: Didn’t you say you were going to find the old me? Do you regret meeting me now? 

MC: How could I regret it!

Victor: You dare to regret it? 

As if we’re having a conversation, I speak aloud, my voice overlapping with his. 

The faraway soft laughter gradually disappears from my mind. As though an invisible hand is pushing me from behind, I break into a run. 

If the future doesn’t replay itself perfectly while the world moves forward slowly, is there be a possibility that we wouldn’t meet again? 

With this thought, my heart clenches. Just greeting him shouldn’t be an issue...

If I simply watch him leave...

If I don’t get a future where I can meet him again...

I wouldn’t be able to accept it. 

MC: Victor! Victor!! Wait!!!!

I call his name loudly, failing to notice that the traffic light has turned red. 

A harsh whistle resounds behind me. 

I turn my head and see a taxi coming towards me, and instinctively want to leap to the side to avoid the impact. 

The expected fall doesn’t arrive, and the world suddenly turns quiet. 

I’ve fallen into a warm embrace. 

In slight disbelief, I take in everything in front of me. Rain drops remain still in the air. He carries me away from the impending car. 

That cold yet reassuring breath makes the whole world turn a little fuzzy. I blink hard and clench my teeth, not wanting him to see my tears. 

Tick tock. Tick tock.

I hear the stalled hands of time in my world start moving once again.

It turns out that my time only stops for him, and only starts again because of him.

I seem to have returned to a very, very long time ago. Perhaps this is an unintentional prank from the heavens, but it also feels like a gift from it. 

Victor: Evolver? 

MC: ?

Victor: You still don’t know? 

MC: ...I do.

Victor: ...

MC: T-thank you for saving me. 

Victor: You should watch yourself. Someone can’t come to your rescue every time. 

He puts me down at the shoulder of the road, but doesn’t leave. 

Victor: Why did you call me just now? 

MC: I thought you’d first ask how I know your name...

Victor: That isn’t important. 

He’s really the same as always. 

MC: I... I just wanted to see you. You’ve invested in my company - the film company you recently invested in. Do you remember...

Victor: And then? 

He cuts off my explanation coldly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, waiting for me to continue. 

MC: ...there’s nothing else. I just wanted to see what sort of a person you are.

Victor: Have you seen enough? 

After saying this, he turns around to leave, uninterested in my response. 

MC: W-wait!

He furrows his eyebrows slightly, but stops in his steps. 

Although I called him without hesitation, I have no idea what to say. 

I would never regret meeting Victor. Yet, I’m not content with having such a superficial meeting with him.

This time, I want to take more initiative to stand by his side. 

Meeting his sharp gaze, I straighten my back and look at him resolutely. 

MC: My name is MC, and I’m the future producer of the film company you have invested in. I’ll definitely improve the film company, and all the programs will become more and more outstanding. You will not have the chance to take back your investment. And you will not be disappointed. 

I say every word and sentence to Victor. The rain has stopped, and light reflects off his eyes, which have widened slightly. 

In the next moment, a large falling leaf is blown by the spring breeze, sticking to the side of my face. 

MC: ...

Victor: [soft laughter]

Victor’s eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips lift. Victor suppresses a smile, then faces me again. 

Victor: For now, being able to stay alive is your biggest challenge. 

While Victor is speaking, another large leaf seems to respond, slapping onto his face.

Victor: ...

I’m unable to suppress my laughter. A few stray tears follow along with my smile. 

Victor knits his brows, and I reach out with a trembling hand, prepared to pluck the leaf from his face. 

At this moment, a strange figure emerges from behind Victor and touches his arm. 

Victor: !

MC: !!

Instinctively, I rush forward to grab onto the mystery person’s sleeve, wanting to protect Victor. 

In the next second, the both of us find ourselves in a bar. The person in front of the bar counter freezes for a moment, furrowing his brows exaggeratedly. 

Man: Big bro, what’s with this “buy one get one free”?

~

MC looks around her surroundings and discovers she’s in a bar called “Mondlicht”, which sounds familiar to her - she saw this name once in her father’s records on Black Swan

The man dismisses the mysterious figure coldly, leaving the three of them in the bar

The man offers to have MC teleported back to where she came from, but Victor says: “You’re not worthy to be trusted.”, and tells the man to cut to the chase.

Man: CEO Victor, there’s no need to be anxious. There’s a man who wants to see you, but he isn’t in this bar right now. As for the reason why... CEO Victor should know it clearly. So, before meeting him, that man has requested that I invite you here - to see if you’re someone worth meeting. To put it simply... this is just a small test. 

While all this is happening, MC wonders what connections Victor has with Black Swan

Victor: I didn’t know of such foolish tests. Are you all too bored, or do I look very free? 

Victor... he doesn’t seem surprised to be here. 

Victor pulls MC to him

Victor: Sorry. Stay by my side. You’ll be fine. 

MC tells Victor to be careful and warns him that Black Swan could be behind this. Victor pauses, but quickly recovers and resumes his conversation with the man

The man takes out a deck of poker cards:

Man: As part of the test, is CEO Victor interested in playing a game?

Victor: No.

The scene turns incredibly awkward. 

Victor swirls the wine glass in his hand, bringing it to his mouth and pursing his lips. He doesn’t care for how the man would react. 

Arrogant and proud. 

Man: You’re making things difficult for me. This is just a simple game.

Victor: Even if I’m uninterested, you wouldn’t let us go. You’ve got too much nonsense. 

Man: ...

The man smiles, handing out the cards resignedly. After dealing the cards, he suddenly thinks of something, and balls one hand into a fist and taps it against the other palm.

Man: Since it’s a game, we’ll need a bargaining chip. If CEO Victor wins, that person will naturally give you what you want. If you lose... you’ll have to leave your life here. 

The air becomes incredibly quiet. I look at the man in shock. His eyes are crinkled, as though he just brought up a trivial matter. 

Man: Lady, you don’t need to be so nervous. It wouldn’t be fun if you’re too nervous. Why don’t we liven up the atmosphere? 

The man retrieves a set of darts, and Victor lets MC throw it

She refuses, but decides to do it after Victor and the man assure her that the dart game has nothing to do with the actual poker game 

With Victor’s guidance, she hits the bull’s eye

Victor and the man finally start the poker game

MC has no idea what’s happening

I have no idea what’s happening too since I don’t play poker, but I hope the translation makes sense: 

Both men flip over the cards in their hands. In Victor’s hand is a straight flush.

Man: CEO Victor, it’s not good to cheat. 

With a wave of his hand, a few men clothed in black suddenly appear, pointing cold muzzles towards Victor.  

Victor supports his head arrogantly, eyes filled with disdain. His cold fingertips tap the poker cards. 

Victor: Look carefully. This isn’t the club flush you deliberately swapped over.

The man freezes, then leans over to look. Seeing the black spades card, he suddenly bursts into laughter, clapping excitedly.

Man: As expected of CEO Victor.

Victor: Your techniques were too clumsy. Including these toys. 

The man isn’t angry. With a wave of his hand, the men clothed in black disappear. 

In the end, he finally sets aside his cynical expression. Placing his right hand behind his back, he gives a humble bow. 

Man: I should be arranging another meeting for you and that man soon.

While the man speaks, the guy who brought us to the bar appears. 

~

They return to the roadside 

MC: Victor, since this is the first time we met, why did you let me shoot the dart earlier? 

Victor: ...LFG is only a medium-sized enterprise. What reason do you have for running over and speaking so confidently?

I’m left frozen to the spot at his question. I turn my eyes to the end of the road, taking a deep breath. 

MC: Because I know that in the future, LFG will expand by a thousand times, and will become unbeatable in the market. It will have the ability to influence countless people. And you will become the driver of this force, so...

I speak my mind, and slowly lower my head as I continue with my words.

In front of me, I see Victor’s many faces - angry, frowning, smiling...

At the end, when I look up again, they form the face in front of me - somewhat young, and not yet humble.

So, I want to be remembered by you, and I want to become someone who’s most unique to you. 

I leave this sentence out, but I say it silently in my heart. 

There is a certain depth in his pupils. The spring breeze is gentle, as though something is slowly sprouting. 

Victor: You have so much faith in it?

MC: It’s not just faith. You’ll definitely do it. 

The corners of his lips turn up slowly. He places a hand into his pocket. In that moment, it seems as though all the brilliant lights in the world are in his eyes. 

Victor: Since you have the wild ambition of not losing future LFG’s investment, I’ll have to see what you’re made of. I’ll remember your words. I look forward to your performance. 

~

A few days later, Victor walks into a dark building. 

??: Welcome to Black Swan.

~

Eight months later.

I heard that Black Swan recently had a major change. A high-ranking cadre and a portion of the members left. The Board of Directors has also seen a reorganisation.

After many years, I’m now at the Black Swan building.

At this point, everything in the future has not occurred. The me of right now has not officially become a member of Black Swan. 

The empty meeting room is silent. Someone seems to be seated behind a barrier at the end of the meeting room.

MC: Sorry to bother you...

Just as I prepare to leave, an unknown device starts up quietly. The long table shrinks and becomes a normal desk. The barrier pulls open slowly.

MC: V-Victor?!

Clearly, in contrast to my shock, Victor is not at all surprised by my appearance. 

Victor: You haven’t shown me any positive evidence regarding your words before. 

Victor: Don’t forget what you said. 

Victor: Don't make me regret choosing you.

-

🌹 MOMENTS 🌹

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Unlucky me is destined to never draw a Straight Flush...

Victor: You can play mahjong. 

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: I agree. After four years of fruitless hard work, I hope everyone won’t fall into this fiery pit.

Victor: Told you so.

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Is there really no relation? Maybe there’ll be an improvement after five years?

Victor: You’ll still be this way after ten years.

-

Phone call: here

[honeypwark]

[ Manhandled ]

  ↳ Clé 1 : MIROH era

       ↳ Xiang and the boys film a “Running Man” spin-off. Xiang does surprisingly well. Until she gets manhandled.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“To be honest, I’m not that worried about tomorrow,” Xiang tells Hyunjin, as well as the camera he holds. “It’ll be no big deal, you know?”

Hyunjin giggles behind the camera at her use of Korean and English, “Shouldn’t you be a little worried, though? We’re all physically stronger than you.”

“I know. That’s why I just have to outsmart all of you,” Xiang strategizes. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“YAH!” Hyunjin shouts.

Xiang laughs, then says, “I also know there’s no chance of me winning with Channie competing, but as long as I make final three I’ll be content.”

“So what you’re saying is we should all team up to get you out first,” Felix says, sitting down beside Xiang.

Xiang laughs with the two boys and claps a hand on Felix’s shoulder. When their laughter dies down, she looks at him seriously.

“Don’t make me angry.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix squeaks out immediately.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I want to die~,” Xiang sings to herself quietly, “Kill me please~ I’m asking nicely~ Chris is terrifying- JESUS!”

“Gotcha!” Chan shouts, trying to grab Xiang.

“Not today, satan!” Xiang yells, ducking under Chan’s arms.

She avoids Seungmin as well as he tries to grab her, sprinting off into the park with the two boys in pursuit of her. She actually manages to lose her cameraman due to the speed she’s running. She ducks behind a row of lockers, knowing she needs to lose Chan and Seungmin before she can be relatively safe again.

She tucks herself against the short end of the lockers so that as Chan and Seungmin run past they don’t see her. The two-person alliance slow to a stop, knowing they’ve lost her. As they look around, they spot Xiang’s cameraman now filming them, having lost his member. They laugh about it, still out of breath from chasing Xiang.

“Later, homies!” Xiang calls, both for comedic reasons and so her cameraman can locate her.

She takes off in the direction they’d all came, too much distance between herself and the two boys for them to even attempt to catch her. They instead stay in place as her cameraman runs after her, still catching their breaths. They look at each other and laugh breathlessly.

“She wasn’t kidding about outsmarting us,” Seungmin says.

“No, she was not,” Chan agrees.

As the two boys walk off in search of another member, Xiang waits for her cameraman to catch up to her.

“Giving you a workout, aren’t I?” Xiang teases the man behind the camera.

“Just a bit,” he laughs, breath labored.

Xiang laughs, “I ran a lot as a trainee because I didn’t like going to the gym. So I’ve got a lot of practice.”

She continues to walk around the park with her cameraman in tow. She passes one of the items they can find without stopping.

“Aren’t you going to see what that is?” her cameraman asks.

“No. I’ve been seeing what some of the boys are getting. I know it’d be more entertaining for me to open it, but if I get something bad, I’ll lose. My only chance of winning is playing it safe.”

She glances back at the box she’d passed then grins at the camera.

“Play smarter not harder.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Okay, okay. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I have a bargaining chip- JEONGIN!”

Jeongin lunges for Xiang and catches the corner of her name tag. She manages to spin around in a way that stops it from being ripped off by the younger boy. She gets out of his grip on momentum alone. However, she falls to the ground as her feet catch on one another. Reacting quickly, she wraps her arms around his legs from behind so he can’t reach her without twisting and bending backwards awkwardly.

“Let me bargain- LET ME BARGAIN!” Xiang shrieks, hitting Jeongin’s hands away as he tries to take her name tag off.

Jeongin can’t help but laugh and gives in, “Okay, okay, fine.”

“I know where an item is,” she tells him.

“You didn’t open it? Does that mean it’s bad?”

“No, I didn’t open it because I figured I could use it to get out of a situation like this,” Xiang says.

“Where is it?”

“It’s by the arcade.”

“The one by the carousel?”

“No, the one by the water slide.”

Jeongin is silent for a moment as he considers.

“Okay.”

Xiang doesn’t let go of Jeongin’s legs, “Promise you won’t attack me.”

“I won’t attack you.”

She thrusts her hand out and around to the front of Jeongin, pinky finger extended. Jeongin wraps his own around hers and presses their thumbs together.

“Alright, sick,” Xiang says, “I’m going to stand up now; please don’t attack me.”

Xiang unwraps herself from around Jeongin’s legs, scooting back so she has room to stand. Once she’s to her feet, she looks at Jeongin warily.

“Okay,” she says cautiously. “Let’s go.”

Xiang makes sure they walk a solid ten feet apart the entire way, both of them wary of each other. Jeongin is worried Xiang is just going to bolt at some point and he’ll lose her. Xiang is worried Jeongin will change his mind and just grab her to rip her name tag off. Eventually, though, they make it to the arcade.

“There it is,” Xiang says, pointing at the white box positioned on the ground at the arcade entrance.

“Thank you, noona.”

Jeongin tries to grab Xiang but she hits his arms and quickly side steps away.

“You said you wouldn’t attack me!” Xiang protests.

“Our pinky promise reached its expiration date.”

“You’re a sNAKE!”

Xiang runs out of the way as Jeongin tries to grab her again, taking off the way they came with Jeongin hot on her heels. She takes a sharp turn and runs down a stopped escalator. Jeongin hurries down after her. About halfway down, Xiang tries to jump the area between the two escalators. She doesn’t quite manage it and scoots rather ungracefully to the other side.

Nonetheless, she avoids Jeongin and runs back up to the level they were on. She nearly falls as she takes an extremely sharp turn to hard back where they just were. She grabs the item box off the ground and keeps going. She slows as she realizes she’s lost Jeongin, walking along the back of the theatre. She sees a figure running in place closer to the stage.

“Hey, Felix!” Xiang calls to the boy in English as she starts toward him.

“Hey,” he calls back.

“Whatcha up to?” she continues, sitting down on a bench one row away from him.

Out of breath slightly from running in place, he says, “Nothing much.”

“Looks like it.”

Xiang sets her box down on the bench beside her and takes the lid off. She pulls the card out from inside.

“Oh, nice!”

“What’d you get?” Felix asks.

“Mini name tag!” Xiang answers gleefully.

“Aw, what? No fair!”

She laughs at him as she swaps her large name tag for the miniature version. She leans back on her hands, looking at Felix.

“Are you not going to try to get me out?” he asks.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why not?”

“Look to your left.”

Felix looks where she told him to, “Oh no, come on!”

“Hello!” Woojin calls as he gets closer.

“I’ll leave you boys to it, peace out.”

Xiang flashes a peace sign at Felix then takes off along the far right side of the theatre, giving Woojin a wide berth. She sees him debating which 00 liner to go for.

“I can outrun you,” Xiang warns, pointing at Woojin.

Woojin hesitates then nods, seemingly agreeing with her before continuing to walk toward Felix, who is still running in place.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I feel like I’m in the Hunger Games,” Xiang says as she carefully glances around a corner, “And I hate it.”

Xiang knows there’s only four of them left now, her, Chan, Changbin, and Woojin. One more person and she’ll reach her goal of being top three. And if she lets the final two boys battle it out, she could get top two. Unless they decide to gang up on her, which is a very probable outcome.

Xiang notices that the six boys who are out are all turned and watching the same thing. She come up beside them to see what they’re looking at.

“Are you out?” Minho asks her.

“No.”

“You’re really not?” Seungmin asks.

“No,” Xiang says again, “I told you I’d outsmart you all.”

“She’s also lucky because she got a mini tame tag,” Felix says.

“That, too.”

Xiang watches as Chan tackles Woojin to the ground and tears his name tag off. Changbin prepares to take Chan’s off as well, but Chan grabs a hold of his. Xiang quickly darts around the carousel as Chan and Changbin approach.

“Before you get each other out,” Hyunjin speaks up, “You should get Changho out.”

“Oh, that snake,” Xiang growls.

“Changho’s still in?” Changbin asks. “I almost got her out right when we started.”

“Seungmin and I tried to get her out but she got away,” Chan says.

“She got away from me, too,” Jeongin adds.

“Yeah, same,” Minho speaks up.

“I saw her briefly,” Hyunjin says, “She ran away before I could catch her.”

“She found me when I was stuck in place and left me to be taken out by Woojin,” Felix says.

“Did we all really get outsmarted by her?” Seungmin asks.

“I told you I wasn’t worried about filming; I knew I’d last a long time,” Xiang says, cautiously walking back around the carousel.

Chan sighs and stretches out his neck, “Well, tactical skills aren’t working, time for brute force. Changbin, let’s get her.”

The two sprint towards Xiang and she runs back around the carousel to avoid Chan. Changbin goes the opposite direction as Chan and catches Xiang as she runs away from their leader.

“Ah, no, this is so unfair!” Xiang whines, trying to fight Changbin off but failing.

Chan comes up behind Xiang and throws her over his shoulder. The girl can’t find it in herself to fight him as the three of them walk back to the other members. The out members laugh as they see Chan carrying a limp and defeated Xiang. Chan sets Xiang on her feet and Changbin stands on her other side.

“This is how I die,” Xiang says dramatically. “This world has been so cruel. I was too weak. I’m sorry.”

“Any last words?” Chan asks, a hand on her name tag.

“Uuuuuh... yeet.”

Xiang spins toward Chan, making him lose his grip on her name tag. In one final act of defiance, she jumps on Chan and tries to reach over his shoulders to grab his name tag. To avoid her doing so, Chan let’s himself fall to the ground, bringing down Xiang with him. She still tries to reach under him and get his name tag. She grabs his arm to pull him up slightly so she can grab it and pull it off.

“Haha!” Xiang shouts joyously as she jumps to her feet. “Suck it!”

She throws Chan’s name tag back at him as he lays on the ground. He catches it, laughing while still attempting to seem disappointed. She turns to face Changbin.

“Alright, let’s go, Binnie,” she says.

Changbin approaches her slowly then quickly lunges to try and reach around her. She hits his arm away and tries to reach around him herself. He grabs her wrists and she tries to squirm away but physically can’t. She stops fighting him and sighs.

“My fate has been sealed.”

Changbin laughs and pulls her toward him. He makes her turn slightly and lets go of one of her wrists to grab her name tag. She squirms to try and get away but can’t, instead dropping to the ground. Despite her best efforts, Changbin stands above her victoriously with her name tag in hand.

“I won!” Changbin shouts triumphantly.

The first seven out members cheer for him. Xiang falls completely to the ground, laying there motionless except for her breathing.

Changbin pokes her with his foot, “Are you dead?”

“Yes.”

[ask-the-becile-boys]

Fic: Tatters

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1836

Summary: Scratch’s plan to take down Becile Industries is set into motion. Consequently, Becile Manor gains a new, furry member.

Content Warning: Offscreen animal death, some talk about guns

-

　　“So, Skull, what have you brought for me today?” Jager asked. He gestured to a long barreled rifle hanging on the wall. “If it’s nice, maybe I’ll trade you for this lovely old deer hunter. You got deer up near that haunted house of yours?”

　　“Not interested,” The Skull said. He was slightly interested, because of the rats in the basement that had found some hidden stash of Green Matter waste and grown big, hungry, and mean, but it’d take more than a hunting rifle to fix that problem. “I’m cashing in some chips.”

　　Jager’s mouth twitched upward. “Louie the coal guy miss a delivery?”

　　“It’s not about coal,” The Skull said, pulling a manila envelope from his coat and setting it on the card table. The back room of Jager’s pawn shop was crowded with unassuming looking junk but the card table was always clear for business. “I need some deliveries made.”

　　Jager’s metal eye spun for a moment before focusing on the envelope. Jager sat down and reached for it. “Outsourcing your work, huh?”

　　“I’m too conspicuous,” The Skull said flatly, letting Jager take the envelope and heft it, judging its weight. “These need to be delivered anonymously, without pointing back to me.”

　　Jager grinned. “Are you gonna cut off my fingers afterward, just in case?”

　　“You’ll keep quiet for enough money,” The Skull said, ignoring the bait.

　　“You’re damn right I will,” Jager said. “Let’s talk cash.”

　　Outside in the alleyway, Mr. Weed leaned against the side of the van’s engine compartment, silently smoking. He glanced out at the street in time to catch a police cruiser slide by, and he tapped a fist against van’s body. “Stay low, kid,” he said through the open driver’s window.

　　Scratch leaned away from the back windows. He held his breath for a moment, then sighed through the vents in his mask. This was his first time back in town since his escape, and already he was ready to be back hiding in Becile Manor. But he’d put off his mission for too long, and this Jager guy was their best chance of getting the evidence against Becile Industries out and into the hands of people who could do something. Part of Scratch wanted to be in there with them to try and convey the importance of the job, the dire necessity, the horrific danger they were all in. But Scratch himself was evidence, and if any clue that he was alive got back to Buster...

　　Better not to think about it. Better to just make sure it didn’t happen.

　　Another quarter of an hour passed as The Skull and Jager bargained.  Jager was just as interested in trading in favors as he was in cash; The Skull had made it a point to not take those offers, wary of being forced into a job that might bring more trouble than he could handle. To get all of Scratch’s evidence out was going to clear The Skull’s meticulously banked stock of IOUs and a good chunk of change, which was a hard pill to swallow, but The Skull had already determined his course. It wasn’t just about repaying Scratch; he wanted to see Becile Industries burn, too. He didn’t care to dwell on the irony.

　　Finally, The Skull stood, prepared to leave. Jager glanced around the room, leaned back in his seat and reached over to a pile of junk.

　　“Oh, and take this,” Jager said, throwing a large, ancient looking carpet bag onto the table with a heavy thud. “Spring cleaning, I’m giving away some spoils to lucky customers.”

　　“What is it?” The Skull asked dryly.

　　“That one was an estate sale grab bag, came in through the pawn shop,” Jager said. “Nothing I can use, but hey, you got that crazy brother of yours, don’t you? Might be a toy in there he could toss around.”

　　“You have a dumpster right outside the door,” The Skull said.

　　“Then be a dear and toss it on your way out, huh?”

　　The Skull rolled his eyes, then unlatched the bag, glancing inside. “I’m not your garbage man.”

　　“Call it a little favor,” Jager said with a wink. The Skull shot him an acidic look, but latched the bag and carried it out with him.

　　The Skull glanced past the van and across the alley to the dumpster, weighing the bag in his hand. It was probably all junk and not worth his time to look through. But Hare might find something to skim off the top, and if Scratch wanted to help, well, the kid was always looking to be helpful. The Skull opened the van’s side door and handed the carpet bag to a surprised looking Scratch.

　　“Hold that,” The Skull said.

　　“How’d it go? Is he helping? What happened? What’s in here?” Scratch asked with flying hands.

　　“We’re fine, let’s get going,” The Skull said, tilting the van as he climbed in and took a seat across from Scratch. “No need to stay in this dump longer than we have to.”

　　-

　　“How sweet, you brought me a goody bag,” Hare said mockingly, pulling the bag across the table to himself. “Though something tells me there’s not much good in it.”

　　The Skull had already left the room by the time he was done speaking. Scratch and The Jack watched curiously as Hare pulled the contents out, appraising fragments of jewelry and tutting dismissively over trinkets and frayed cloth.

　　“I thought I saw fur down at the bottom,” Scratch signed. “Maybe a mink?”

　　“Mink might be worth something,” Hare muttered, quickly tossing out the last strata layer of junk and peering inside. His good eye narrowed as it focused, and after a pause he looked up with a disgusted expression. “It’s a dead cat.”

　　The Jack laughed nervously. Scratch winced and signed, “That’s terrible.”

　　“I can see it’s bones,” Hare complained, tilting the bag away and then back toward him again, taking another morbidly curious look. “Weird that it’s still all in one piece.”

　　“It doesn’t smell, either,” Scratch pointed out.

　　Everyone in the room cringed as Hare reached into the bag and touched the cat experimentally. He took a bony looking leg between finger and thumb and tugged at it. It didn’t tear or fall apart.

　　“You two might wanna look away,” Hare said before turning the bag on its side and sliding the body out. The Jack dutifully turned on his heel and started humming, while Scratch covered his eyes, only to peek through his fingers.

　　“... Huh,” Hare said.

　　The cat on the table was curled up like it was sleeping. The fur was ragged and missing in several places, but instead of bone underneath, there was a metal skeleton.

　　“A robot?” Scratch asked. “A… taxidermied robot?”

　　“I don’t see an engine,” Hare said, poking inquisitively at the cat’s chest.

　　“Try the key,” The Jack giggled.

　　“The what?” Hare asked.

　　“Try the key!”

　　Hare looked from The Jack to the scattered trinkets on the table. After a quick search, he held up what he had thought was a music box key. Another quick examination of the cat revealed an appropriately shaped slot on its back, between the vertebrae. Hare and Scratch exchanged looks, and then Hare turned the key until the tension locked it in place.

　　The cat click-click-clicked, rolled over, and stretched, yawning with a mouth of missing metal teeth. She blinked with one eye, the other an empty socket, and rubbed at an ear with one paw before looking around at the strange people staring at her.

　　“Mrrraaaow,” the cat said with a voice like a small, infuriated lawnmower.

　　“Oh my god,” Scratch signed. “It’s a terror.”

　　Hare poked the cat’s head, and she mrraaaow’d at him, flicking an ear. “Okay. Great. We solved the mystery,” he said. “Now what?”

　　“Do you want a cat?” Scratch asked.

　　Before Hare could answer, the cat had jumped down from the table and started exploring. Hare tried to pick her up, but she skirted through his grasp and trotted out into the hall.

　　“I ain’t sure we’re the ones deciding, here,” Hare said.

　　-

　　The Skull stared at the cat, then shook his head soberly and went back to worrying about the deal with Jager while pretending to read the newspaper. “If it sheds on my suits, I’m throwing it out.”

　　Mr. Weed looked almost physically ill at the sight of the cat’s choppy pelt. “Am I allergic to cats?” he asked himself outloud. “I feel like I should be allergic to cats. I’m not gonna have to clean a litter box, am I?”

　　Locksmith went on a long-winded ramble about Egyptian gods and how cats were prized in various cultures, and Hare thought that meant he was okay with keeping it, but Locksmith also seemed completely unwilling to get within three feet of the thing. “It seems a delicate creation,” he said nervously, backing away from the approaching feline. “It would be tragic indeed if a slight touch caused its destruction!”

　　Dee picked the cat up and cradled it, the actions coming naturally to her. “She reminds me of someone,” she said, looking at the cat’s missing eye and broken jaw.

　　“I can’t imagine,” Hare said. “Well, it ain’t got a name yet. You wanna do the hon--”

　　“Tatters,” Dee said decisively. “Her name is Tatters. Isn’t that right, Tatters? Yes? Yes it is? Yes it is.”

　　“... Tatters it is,” Hare said with a shrug. “Guess we’ll see if she’s a match for those rats.”

　　Tatters purred, and Hare could almost swear she grinned.

[jerepars]

Throwing Copper Extended Chapter Notes

2 / 5 The Queen of Lower Chelsea

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

“You should think about getting the hell out of Dodge,” James said boldly. “What was it you said that night, before Devon called you for dinner at the winery? You wanted to get big enough so no one could hurt you. Don’t you think you’re well past that now? Do you really need every last little light in New York City? You should go with George, to whatever island he found in the Caribbean.”

Well, let’s get right to it, I guess. This chapter is named after “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” by The Gaslight Anthem. One way or another I was going to find a way to get a reference to this because there’s mention of a queen, New Orleans, and New York in the lyrics. James’ dialogue here borrows from the line: American girls, they want the whole world, they want every last little light in New York City.

“How did we get here?” she wondered. “With you being the one trying to pull me back from the ledge and asking where my respectable convictions went?“

The opening lyrics to The Get Up Kids’ “Holiday” are questions: What became of everyone I used to know? Where did our respectable convictions go?

I am of the opinion that the album this song is from, Something to Write Home About, is perfect from beginning to end. Any time I can refer to it, I do. Sometimes I have a bunch of random dialogue in mind before I start writing a chapter and I knew right away Teresa was going to say this. I think it’s fitting. I’d like for Teresa to have self awareness and recognition of what she’s gotten away from, whether that be good or bad.

It didn’t seem like it’d been so long ago when she was voicing her distaste and disapproval for the way James lived, for the things he’d had to do, so deeply ingrained in a world of criminal activity that was new to her. Teresa remembered how hollow his voice had been when he’d said that’s the wrong answer after he’d asked her what they should do about Lopez’s guy who tried to short them on payment and she’d said, with worry, to let him go. It was only the second time she’d worked with James, and she’d been naïve then. She’d been naïve still, months later when she told James he was a good person and that’s not who you are about cartel operations that ended with casualties—though she believed she was right about those things. But as she moved up, and in her quest for expansion, she’d burned bridges and done wrong, setting aside her inconvenient convictions. Teresa always told herself it was for survival, for the good of everyone around her. But there was a seduction to vengeance, and sometimes it was without guilt that the flames licked at her face and she chose wrath.

To look back at 1x03, it can really be seen how both James and Teresa have changed over time working with each other. First of all, the way he says “that’s the wrong answer” (0:56) is...somehow really appealing. Lol. And then you look at their body language and facial expressions throughout this scene, so different from the way they are as the series progresses.

To me, it seems they go through a role reversal of sorts, over time, because James gets softer and Teresa goes scorched earth.

“When I was summoned to Bolivia by El Santo, Pote gave me that card with the psalm on it. It was important to him, symbolic, because if I had it on me, it meant I’d be protected, and I’d be back,” Teresa explained. “So give me something. Something that matters. I’ll give it back.”

James was glad Teresa had that fire in her, that determination to get through anything. He was glad, too, that she could acknowledge she might be about to walk into the belly of the beast. But the cynic that he was, James thought they had a narrow shot at playing the meeting right without everything blowing up in their faces, and he didn’t think symbolism was going to change the outcome.

“Superstition isn’t going to save your life, Teresa,” James said.

This section indirectly calls back to “Throwing Copper” by Touché Amoré, the song the story is named after. It’s the last bit of the song: But if superstitions can give someone faith, then I’m throwing my wallet and begging for change.

James’ constant observation of flickering light in Teresa’s eyes can’t be the only call back to the title, right?

One of the first things James ever said to her was I’m not religious, whoever they stole this car from is after Teresa made a snide comment about the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, as he’d raced against time to the airport. She remembered everything about her early interactions with James. She remembered his longer hair that was a little too perfectly messy—tousled. She remembered he spoke to her coldly and never smiled, even though his eyes were warm. She remembered when he’d covered for her, something he’d decided to do of his own volition, more than once, and how it helped her understand who he really was. She remembered seeing the chain against the skin of his neck, the necklace usually tucked under his shirt. She hadn’t seen the pendant until the night when Eric’s men followed them to the cemetery to retrieve Camila’s reserve money, and Charger had to pull a bullet out of James’ shoulder after the car they were in was shot up.

One of my first ideas for this story was Teresa asking for something valuable, to be returned, to “protect” her and make sure she was going to get out of the meeting okay. So I went back to something from the first season, something that the show’s wardrobe department has probably long forgotten about or lost in a box.

James’ necklace is actually visible in the very first shot he’s in ever, in 1x02, around 6:30 of the episode. It’s not tucked into his shirt. But then, in later scenes, still in the warehouse, it...disappears. He’s still wearing it though, because you can see the chain a little bit (2:29) while he’s waiting to go through the metal detector at the airport.

It’s visible again in 1x07, when he’s all bloody and has to get the bullet removed from his shoulder (0:20), and in 1x11 when he’s talking to Camila on the phone in the trailer (0:29).

And then we never see it again! It’s just absent in every other season. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I guess I consider the accessories that characters have to be part of the world building and continuity.

So I wrote it in, gave it a backstory, gave it purpose. Yes, this is really the kind of thing that goes through my mind. 

“Yes.” Teresa nodded. “Nothing comes cheap. Not even me.“

In this whole back and forth between Teresa and Devon, I like that it starts with him saying she doesn’t have a bargaining chip but she manages to turn it around on him. I imagine that canon Teresa would be able to do the same thing, too (after all, she makes the smart move to send Lil’ T to his mother in 3x05).

Anyway, this piece of dialogue is inspired by the bridge in “The Queen of Lower Chelsea”:

Well they say these days Nothing comes cheap And everything has a price Everyone has a price Nothing is free Not even me

In 2x01, Teresa says “everything in life has a price” when she and James are at Rolando’s memorial (a moment that’s also mentioned in the chapter) as she’d devastated about Brenda. Earlier in the chapter, regarding Oksana’s death, it’s mentioned that everything has a cost. So it’s all connected.

After a while, James closed the distance and touched her face. Teresa held her breath when he wiped under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. Then he held her jaw, his fingers at the back of her neck.

”You’re gonna be fine,” James said.

There’s this moment in 1x08, when James is talking to one of the hotel maids (0:56) for information. And she’s freaking out because the cartel is in her house. James wipes at her tears with his thumb. I find it to be a confusing moment because it’s like...is he doing it to calm her down? Is he doing it threateningly (the whole scene is pretty threatening anyway)? 

But me, I’m like, yo, when do we get to see him do that to Teresa?

She was apologizing not only for pressing on his wound but for everything, preemptively, for the tough spots she put him in and for what she’d done that he didn’t know about yet. She really did know how to do a number on him, she thought, inflicting pain like a flame that burned him to let him know they were both still alive.

The last line is a reference to Bayside’s “Duality”: you’re the flame that burns me so I know that I’m still alive.

[fantasycaught]

                                             @initcne​  wrote a starter in  an undisclosed government facility.

             The drive alone was agonizing. Not that Darlene made the drive easy for anyone else in the car. Hours of screaming and kicking the divider that separates Darlene from the officers doesn’t get a reaction from them. And when she got tired of that, she folded herself into the corner of the back seat and continued to throw insults.  Following hours of being crammed in the back of a car, it’s almost a relief to see they’re finally pulling into the parking lot of a large building.

But then she’s thrown into another concrete interrogation room and left there alone. She pounds on the mirror and starts yelling again. “I know you assholes are out there. I’m sick of your shit!! Get your asses in here so we can get this over with!!” She waits for a few beats, gives the mirror another punch, and begins pacing the length of the small room, twirling a tangled lock of hair around her fingers. She stops abruptly and her gaze starts searching the ceiling until they land on what she’s looking for. The camera.

A masculine voice fills the room as she drags the chair into the corner and climbs on top. “Step away from that camera, kid.” She makes a mocking noise and reaches around to start pulling at wires. This elicits the response she was hoping for. The door swings open and there’s a large man entering the room now. Darlene huffs, and exclaims, “Fucking finally!! You drag my ass all the way out here and then have the audacity to make me wait even longer?? I’ve been waiting for one of your dickheads to get in here forever.” She hops off the chair and drags it back to the desk in the middle of the room, flopping into the seat and folding her arms across her chest. She tilts her head to one side and stares the man down. “So?? I know how this works. Get on with your questions. I want to go home.”

     𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 early in a desperate attempt to shut her the fuck up. it was a tactic he’d used as a profiler when he still worked in the behavioral science unit—before his wife threatened to leave him if he didn’t transfer. making serial killers wait had been less of a pain in the ass than leaving darlene alderson to sweat it out for an hour. apparently, she’d been like this on the drive as well. the two agents he’d sent to pick her up came back with a headache and a strong desire to strangle her.

     and here he’d thought being reassigned to the cyber crimes division would prove boring.

     bright red wires hang loose from the surveillance camera, rendering it staticky and useless. bill masks the irritation he feels expertly, maintaining a carefully neutral expression. letting alderson know she possesses the ability to set his teeth on edge would be too much of a concession on his part.

     in one hand he clutches a styrofoam cup half-full of black coffee, thrusting it towards the woman intent upon staring him down as a peace offering. as he sits though, metal chair scraping shrilly against the concrete floor, bill realizes he has better bargaining chips in his jacket pocket. something about the haunt of her eyes, the set of her mouth, gives him the distinct impression alderson is hopelessly addicted to the rush of nicotine, just like he is.

     a certain nervous energy courses through her, not completely masked by her false bravado.

     “ okay, kid. how does this work? ”  the chair creaks beneath him, and bill leans forward, slowly pulling his pack of marlboro’s from the left inside pocket of his suit jacket. leaving them to rest on the tabletop while he sips at the steaming coffee instead, the smell of it always more satisfactory than the taste.

     nothing can live up to the scent of freshly brewed coffee; certainly not drinking it.

     immediately following 5/9, they’d been awake for days, running on nothing but coffee and anger. anger at the group of hackers known only as ‘fsociety’ who’d brought down the house of cards that was the american economy, and anger at the soulless corporate criminals who had stacked it high for them to obliterate on a whim.

     rage and coffee had been the singular constant, and bill is done with both. he thought he’d left that kind of brutal overworking behind him with holden and the murdered children of atlanta, but 5/9 set the cyber crime unit into permanent, exhausting overdrive.

     “ go on, then. ”  bill stares at her expectantly, finally tapping a cigarette out of the pack and into his palm.  “ explain to me why you think you’re here. ”

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 7

In case you don’t want to read it here, the whole work can be found on A03:

AO3 Chapter 7 Link

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Sam and Faith head off on their journey and someone else is soon on their heels.

Faith glanced at the wall clock in her apartment. 4:35PM. Sam and Faith had agreed to meet back at her apartment by 5 PM, each of them had things to do and provisions to get before setting out for Illinois. Nathan had assured both of them Faith would be safe running a couple of hours of errands now that the Laginas had agreed on a ceasefire and Jasper Nox had seemed to have crawled back into whatever Georgia hole he crawled out of.

As she stuffed the last of her clothes in an oversized backpack, she heard the key in the lock of her apartment door. She glanced up as Sam walked in, swinging the metal door shut with a kick of his foot causing a loud thunk. Faith recognized the large green army duffel Sam set down on the couch from the motel room but not the smaller black one he put on top of it. Sam put a hand on the back of his neck, giving the tense muscles a rough squeeze and stretch.

“You get everything?” He asked.

She cinched the neck of her backpack closed and dropped it next to the smaller one on the floor.

“Snacks, clothes, cash, and Bible,” Faith announced as she pointed to each backpack and her green army medic bag she used as her purse that sat on her bed. “How about you? You get everything?”

Sam unzipped the black duffel and threw a small flip phone at Faith. “Burner phone for you, burner phone for me. Sent Nathan the numbers already so we can get a hold of him. Each one has the others number programmed in that way we're set in case we get separated. Leave your phone here, pull the battery and the SIM card.”

Faith nodded, storing the new phone in her purse and taking out her old one. She popped out the battery and SIM card, throwing the whole works on her bedspread.

“What else...whoa. Whoa. Hey now.” Faith stammered as she turned to see Sam holding out a handgun to her.

“Wrap it in a shirt, throw it in your bag. It's just in case,” Sam gently insisted. Faith stepped back with her arms wrapped around herself tightly, shaking her head no.

“Sam, no, I don't do guns.”

“Take the gun, Faith.”

“No, I don't do guns. I've never shot one, I don't like holding them, I don't like being near them. Nope, nuh uh. I don't do it,” She said, still furiously shaking her head.

“You wanted treasure hunting 101? Here ya go. Lesson one, be prepared in case shit goes down now take the goddamn gun,” Sam said with frustration. Faith reached out and carefully took it from his outstretched hand. She grabbed an errant gray t-shirt that was thrown over the back of her computer chair and wrapped it, taking great care to avoid touching anywhere near the trigger. She reopened her pack and nestled the gun in a hidden inner pocket and closed it again quickly.

“That it?” Faith asked Sam.

“Rental car's parked out back. Good to go?” He questioned. Faith nodded and grabbed up her gear, slinging what she could over her shoulders and headed towards her door. She shut it tight behind her and Sam, the click a little louder to her than normal, as if the universe was giving her signal, some subtle nod that it would be quite a while before she would be back and hear that sound again. Faith shoved the keys in her jacket pocket and headed towards the buildings set of elevators.

“You give the rental guy a fake name?” She asked as she walked down the hallway of apartment doors.

“Yeah.”

“Justin Case?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Too obvious, Russell P. Bell.”

“You really like the letter P for a middle initial don't you?” She questioned as she stopped in front of the elevators.

“Not really.”

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival as the doors slid open. “I bet it's your real middle initial.” Faith said as she stepped into the elevator. Sam let out a chuckle, “No, it's not my middle initial.”

Faith pressed the button for the main floor. She gasped, a thought striking her. “Your middle name is Phineas, isn't it?” She said as she looked at Sam, nodding with a goofy smile that made her look like she had just figured out a deep, cool secret of the world. Sam stared at her strangely at a complete loss for words as the elevator doors slid closed in front of them.

Sam turned the key to the small SUV, the engine kicking over and roaring to life. Their gear safely stored in the back seat, Sam put it in drive and turned out the gravel parking lot. Faith slid down a little in her seat, adjusting her seat belt snug across her chest. She watched Sam fiddle with the radio, scanning for a station across the FM band that came in clear. She slid her seat back and propped her feet up on the dash of the rental. “Better,” Sam proclaimed, finally stopping his search as Creedence Clearwater Revival came through the surprisingly decent speaker system of the car. Faith cozied herself down against the door of the car, watching the world go by her in the mirror. She caught a glance of her apartment building. This was it, everything that was comfortable, every known in her life was in that building and she was watching it get smaller and smaller. She glanced beside her and saw her mother sitting in the driver's seat instead of Sam, John Fogherty's voice mixing in her head with hers and her mothers as they sang. Her mom turned to her and told her, “Sing out Faith! Don't be afraid. Be bold, be brave! That's where the fun is Baby!” A smile beaming at her as her mother leaped right back into the chorus of the song. Faith blinked, the sight of her mother replaced with Sam. He sang under his breath as he fished around in a jacket pocket for a lighter. She smiled and looked back into the mirror, seeing the last of her building fade out of her sight.

Be bold, be brave! That's where the fun is Baby!

LYONS, GEORGIA

Jasper Nox sat perched with perfect posture on an ornate white wicker veranda chair. The screened in porch let the gentle breeze of the warm, humid day through while keeping out the pesky bugs that came along with it. The sprawling high society farmhouse sat on 75 acres of well-kept land filled with corn, onions and peach trees. He held a well-worn paperback in his good hand. Jasper had read this tawdry romance novel many times and each time he reread it, it became funnier and funnier with its absurdity. Jasper considered all manner of romance and love absolutely ridiculous, it created unnecessary complications in one's life.

“Mr. Nox sir?” A man said as he approached Jasper, carrying a glass full of crushed ice and Dr. Pepper.

“Ah, thank you, Wallace!” Jasper said, setting his book down on the glass top coffee table in front of him. Wallace handed him the glass, making sure to put it in his fully functioning hand. Jasper took a sip, drops clinging to his red mustache. “Wonderful, wonderful,” He muttered to himself in satisfaction and set the glass on a coaster next to his novel.

“Sir, I heard from our man we left on the ground. Victor Sullivan made it,” Wallace said, trying to keep the undercurrent of nerves out of his voice.

“Yes, yes I heard. Unfortunate. Marty Lagina must be losing his touch. Well, a thorn in my side to be removed on another occasion. Anything else?” He asked, fiddling absentmindedly with the wedding band on his right hand.

“Sam Drake and the girl are on the move. They set out by car yesterday. Car rental agent didn't know exactly where they were headed, but Drake estimated the added mileage to be 500 for one way.”

“And what do we know about the girl?”

“Faith Evelyn Spencer. 29. Cook with a Bachelors in Communications, only child, mother passed six months ago from kidney failure, no other living immediate family.”

“Have Bixby look into this girl a little more. Nathan Drake might be a pompous wisenheimer but he knows his relics. If he says this girl has the second Lincoln Bible in her possession, I am inclined to believe him. I want to know who she is and how she came to acquire it before they do. Then, have him and his men head to Springfield,” Jasper ordered Wallace in his southern Georgia drawl.

“Springfield, sir?” Wallace questioned.

“If you want information on Lincoln, you head to where the man was born and raised. Make sure he knows retrieving the Bible is the top priority. Bringing in Drake and the girl alive would be preferable, I do love a good bargaining chip, but tell Bixby it's not a necessity,” He said, his instructions came across as a man talking to a toddler and not a middle aged man.

“Very good sir, will there be anything else?”

Jasper looked out the side of the screened in porch towards a large magnolia tree that preceded the acres of peach trees.

“The magnolia is looking a little peaked. Make sure Mrs. Nox tends to it. I think she's around the side of the house. That will be all Wallace, thank you,” He said, taking his hand away from his wedding band and picking up his book again. Wallace left to find Mrs. Nox as Jasper straightened his back in his chair, smoothing his linen shirt down his large frame. He flipped open his book to the marked page where he left off. The hero was about to swoop in and rescue his lady love and proclaim his everlasting love any page now and Jasper was anxious for the absurdity to begin. A door on the side of the muted yellow house banged shut while Jasper flipped the dogeared corner of the book up and turned the page. Wallace pushed a wheelbarrow of dirt towards the magnolia, a small flowerbed surrounding it of cardinal flowers. Jasper's eyes flew over the lines of type with the expertise of a person that had read the book many times over. An amused smile spread across his thin lips and a gleeful chuckle came from deep in his barrel chest. His laughter grew as his hero professed his feelings for his love line after line. The silliness of how useless a feeling but yet how important it was thought to be. Wallace took a shovel and spread the dark fertilizer over the growing flower bed. Wallace took another shovel full out of the wheelbarrow, a small metal plate attached to the inside back wall of the tub. Inscribed on it was a name, DOROTHEA NOX, in perfect script.

Jasper continued to giggle as sipped his Dr. Pepper, stole a glance outside to the flowering tree. At least my wife is useful, he thought gleefully and flipped another page forward in his book.

[metawitches]

  In The Lost Sister, El continues her journey of self discovery with a trip to Chicago to find her psychic sister, 008/Kali. The sisters lost each other when Brenner separated them after Terry’s aborted rescue attempt. The episode is a stand alone featuring El’s storyline by itself.

We watch El learn about herself and face decisions about what kind of person she wants to be. She’s been physically lost since she left the lab, and a lost soul for her entire life. Kali is the same. They help each other begin to be found in ways that could only happen with each other.

As the episode begins, El is still wearing the blindfold and psychically communicating with her mother. She’s been there since the end of episode 5, so you would think she’d have gotten more than the repeating story of how Terry lost her mind, but she hasn’t.

El describes the visions to Becky over lunch, focussing on the other little girl behind the door with the rainbow. Becky suggests that El look through Terry’s files of missing children that she thought might be like El. El finds an article about Kali with a photo. El puts the blindfold back on and sits in front of the staticky TV, but she can’t find Kali.

Later that night, as she’s lying on a cot in her bedroom, she looks at the article, then thinks back to the image from Terry’s memory. That does the trick. She’s suddenly in the negative psychic space, observing Kali standing in front of a fire in a metal barrel.

She pops out of psychic space and rushes to tell Becky what she’s just seen. When she gets downstairs, El overhears Becky on the phone. She’s called the number on Hopper’s card from a year ago and is leaving a message with Florence.

El steals the cash from Terry’s purse and hops on a bus to Chicago. I appreciate that the writers and producers listened to my complaint from a couple of episodes ago and changed the story to put El on a bus, instead of hitchhiking again. Good to know that I have that kind of influence. 😘😘😜😜

El’s getting her mojo back, as evidenced by the choice of one of Bon Jovi’s best songs as her theme song for this section, Runaway, and bringing back the insult “mouthbreather” when an insensitive stranger bumps into her and keeps going.

She walks for a long time, into the worst part of town, worse even that the part of town where the pawn shops are. She finds the modern shantytown where the homeless drug addicts and mentally ill hang out, but keeps going. Finally, she reaches the abandoned building where Kali’s gang is hiding out.

They aren’t happy to see her, one pulling a knife and another mocking her overalls. (F*ck them, the overalls are cute, in style for the period, and a million times better than that horrible dress.) They become truly threatening when El shows them Kali’s picture, wanting to know how El found her, since Kali is in hiding.

Suddenly the guy who’s holding the switchblade knife in El’s face appears to have dozens of spiders running up his arm. He becomes frantic. Kali descends the nearby staircase like the queen that she is and tells him to stop torturing little girls.

The gang members give Kali the article and tell her that El knows about her. Kali asks how she knows about her and El says, “Mama, in her dream circle.” Then El pulls the knife to herself and away from Mohawk guy with her mind. Smug, she hands it to Kali.

Now she’s got Kali’s attention. Kali asks her name. El tells her it’s Jane. Kali looks for the number on El’s wrist, and El does the same with Kali. 008 and 011 are revealed. They call each other sister and  embrace.

El tells Kali her story. Kali feels that Hopper is being naive. They will always be monsters to the scientists in the lab. The lab will never willingly set them free.

She also thinks it’s wrong for Hopper to stop El from using her powers. Her powers make her special. El asks about Kali’s power. Kali can make anyone see, or not see, whatever she wants. She creates a butterfly in her hand to illustrate. El asks if Kali is real and she says that she is. El touches her face to be sure.

Kali gets El settled into bed and tells El how happy she is that El found her. She feels like an empty hole in her life has been filled. She thinks that Terry somehow knew that they belonged together, and that this is El’s true home.

Once EL’s asleep Kali talks to the gang, and tells them how powerful El is. She wants to “do one” the next day, using El’s finding skills. The others worry that it’s too soon after the Pittsburgh job, but Kali overrules them.

El “visits” Hopper and hears the first part of the apology message that he left her. She’s startled awake by Kali before the end.

Kali introduces El to the gang: Axel, the spider hater, Dottie, the newest member, Mick, the eyes and protector, and Funshine, the warrior. They don’t have numbers or powers, but they are all freaks and outcasts. Kali saved them from hard times. Now they fight back against the people who hurt them.

El questions what the gang is doing, if the people they’re hunting really deserve death. The gang implies that she’s too sensitive to handle killing people. She tells them that she’s killed people before, when they were hurting her. Kali tells her that these are all bad people, too. Her group is just making the first move this time.

Kali takes El outside to work on her powers. She explains that she used to be like El, holding everything inside until her pain festered and spread. It wasn’t until she let it out that she began to heal.

They get to an old railyard. Kali tells El to draw one of the abandoned cars to them. El tries, but can’t. Kali counsels her to draw on her anger for strength. To remember all of the things that have been done to her, all of the things that have been taken from her, and use that energy. She brings the train car flying toward them.

Kali shows El their Most Wanted board and asks if El recognizes any of them. She sees the man who administered the ECT to Terry. Kali says that he hurt more than Terry, and remembers him using a cattle prod on her.

The gang has a hard time finding people like Ray because they know they’re being hunted. But with El, maybe tracking won’t be an issue any more.

It isn’t. She finds Ray quickly. They plan the trip for later that day, even though they will have to use the van that police are looking for in relation to their last job in Pittsburgh. They switch the plates and hope it’s enough.

Before they go, El gets a bitchin’ make over to match the rest of the punker, urban warrior gang.

As they leave the hideout, a cop notices the van.

They stop at a convenience store to stock up on money and supplies. Kali supplies an illusion distraction for the cashier in the form of a flooded bathroom. The cashier comes back before expected and pulls a gun on the gang. Kali tries to talk him out of violence, but El steps in and throws him against a wall. They make a run for it.

Ray is at home watching Punky Brewster. The gang sneaks in wearing creepy masks. Dottie and Axel rob the place while Funshine stands guard. Kali and El confront Ray.

He quickly cracks, and uses Brenner as a bargaining chip.

Ray: I just did what he told me to do. He told me she was sick.

Kali: You had a choice, Ray, and you chose to follow a man who was evil.

Ray: Wait, wait. I can help. I can help you find him.

Kali: Find who?

Ray: Brenner. I can take you to him.

El: Papa is gone.

Ray: No. he’s alive.

Kali: Do not lie to us Ray.

Ray: I’m not lying. He trusts me. I’ll take you to him.

Kali: If he is alive, Jane will find him, just as she found you.

El begins to slowly strangle Ray, using her powers. She notices a photo of him with his two young daughters just as Dottie and Axel find them on the phone with the police in their bedroom.

Kali orders El to keep going, but El stops. She doesn’t want to take a parent away from another child. Kali reminds El that Ray didn’t show any mercy to Terry. Kali pulls out a gun and prepares to shoot Ray, but El uses her powers to take the gun away.

The police arrive outside. The gang races for the van and takes off just in time. Kali is angry with El for taking the gun away. She tells El that she can show mercy if she chooses, but she’s never to take Kali’s choice away. A reminder that Kali may seem to have it together, but she’s just as traumatized and abused as El.

Back at the hideout,  Kali sits down for a private chat with El. She used to be like El. She’s hard on El because she doesn’t want El to make the same mistakes that she did. El replies that there were kids in the house.

Kali: Does that excuse that man’s sins? Were we not also children? I remember the day I came to the rainbow room and you were gone. So when my gifts were strong enough, I used them to escape. I ran. I ran away as far as I could and it was there, far away, that I found a place to hide. A family, a home. Just like you and your policeman. But, they couldn’t help me. So eventually I lost them too. So I decided to be smart. To stop hiding. To use my gifts against those who hurt us. You are now faced with the same choice, Jane. Go back into hiding and hope they don’t find you, or fight. And face him again.

El: Face who?

Kali: The man who calls himself our father.

Jane: Papa. Is. Dead.

BrennerIllusion: That man tonight disagreed.

El: You’re not real.

BrennerIllusion: All this time, you haven’t looked for me. Why? Because you thought I was dead, or because you were afraid of what you might find?

El: Go away.

BrennerIllusion: You have to confront your pain. You have a wound, Eleven. A terrible wound. And it’s festering. Do you remember what that means? Festering. It means a rot. And it will grow. Spread.

El: Get out of my head.

BrennerIllusion: And eventually, it will kill you.

El: (yelling) Get out of my head! (Bursts into tears.)

The lights flicker and the Brenner illusion disappears.

Kali: This isn’t prison, Jane. You are always free to return to your policeman or stay and avenge your mother. Let us heal our wounds, together.

Meanwhile, the SWAT teams are assembling outside for an assault on the hideout.

El clutches the shirt she borrowed from Mike, and thinks back to her favorite memories of Mike and Hopper. She enters psychic space, and sees Hopper in the lab realizing that the firemen are in the boneyard. Then she sees Mike run up and try to warn the Owens and Hopper that the firemen are walking into a trap. She runs to her image of Mike, but he dissolves when she touches him, as people in psychic space always do. I’m waiting for her to meet her psychic match and see what happens when they interact.

El is drawn back into this reality by police breaking down the hideout door. Kali gathers up the gang and makes them invisible while the police search the hideout. As soon as the police are past them, they run for the van, getting stuck in a barrage of bullets outside until Kali raises an illusionary metal wall between the police and the van.

El hesitates while everyone else gets into the van. She remembers seeing both Mike and Hopper in the lab and in danger. (Can’t leave the idiots alone for a minute.) She knows that she has to go back.

Axel yells that they have to hurry, the illusion is going to wear off. Kali begs El to stay, saying that Terry sent El to her for a reason. They belong together. Her friends can’t save her. Jane says she knows, but she can save them. She turns and runs down an alley as the wall illusion disappears and the police start firing at the van.

Kali calls for El/Jane as she runs away. The van gets away safely, but Kali is devastated at the loss of more family. We get a gorgeous reflection effect of Kali sitting back in the van, and tearfully looking at her own reflection in the van window in the dark, as El’s reflection comes into focus next to it. Kali’s reflection fades, and we gradually see that El is once again on a bus.

A woman sitting across from El decides that she needs some company and moves next to her. She asks where El is going. El replies that she’s going to see friends. She’s going home. She’s made her choice about who she is and where she belongs.

We are sung out by Icicle Works’ Birds Fly (Whisper to a Scream).

    This time on her own is an important step for El’s character, but it’s still curious that it’s not interwoven with another story thread. The decision to give this subplot this much time and attention means one of three things: 1-It’s a backdoor pilot for a spinoff starring Kali and her gang, possibly also including El after Stranger Things ends in two seasons; 2- the Duffers went on a rambling side track with limited immediate relevance to the main story just for the heck of it, which seems unlikely; 3- there are elements to this episode that are important to the story now and/or in the future, even if we can’t currently see what they are.

My policy with episodes like this is to treat everything as a potential clue for the future. The Duffers put too much care into their writing to suddenly go off on a narrative lark that won’t have more ramifications further down the line, even if it takes 2 seasons to pan out.

Kali was indeed a dark mother, as her name implies. She was the first person in El/Jane’s life, with the possible exception of Mike, to see her true self, to see all of her, and to accept everything that she sees. She’s the only one to tell El the truth about their lives and force El to accept it, both the good and the bad. Mike didn’t have enough experience of the world to understand the whole truth. Hopper wouldn’t accept that she could take care of herself, or that she might have to be underground, and on the run, for the rest of her life. Kali brings the final push that El needs to grow into her true self, to accept that she’s a good person with the power to potentially be a monster or to potentially help people. The decision is El’s.

But, like all dark mothers, she doesn’t make the growth easy. She is a warrior, and El is needs to be a warrior too. El needs to face and pass the tests that will prove her growth and worthiness.

There is a neon hamsa, an open hand with an eye in the middle, in El’s bedroom in the hideout. The hamsa is a Middle Eastern symbol of protection and good luck. The words Spiritual Advisor are written in neon on the hamsa sign. Kali is an important person in El’s journey, teaching her to take care of herself as well as others, and to think of herself as special and wanted rather than as a monster and a science experiment.

  The hamsa makes Kali’s important role in El’s life clear. El will undoubtedly need guidance again, and a helping hand with psychic powers.

El’s psychic powers are getting stronger. When we met her, she needed the sensory deprivation tank or a radio to enter psychic space. Now she’s able to find random strangers over long distances with nothing but a photo and a blind fold. If she feels a close connection to someone, as with Hopper and Mike, she doesn’t even need that. She just needs to trigger deep thoughts and memories of them.

I don’t remember seeing El use her finding/tracking ability in the real world at all last season. I believe we only saw her use it to find people so that she could spy on them, and to find Will and Barb in the Upside Down. Or did she also locate people so that the FBI could send goons to arrest them?

Kali states one of the major themes of the season. Healing isn’t possible with repression and lies. The truth and the pain have to be faced and dealt with for healing to be possible. Otherwise the system/organism will fester, becoming worse over time, whether it’s Hopper becoming an alcoholic and pill addict to numb the pain of the loss of his daughter; the town rotting from underneath like a festering wound that’s scabbed over, because for decades it’s avoided facing the cancer that is Hawkins Lab; or Barb’s parents giving up everything they own to find her, rather than admit that she’s likely dead.

El has faced some of her pain, but not all of it. She’s realized that Hopper, Mike, and her friends in Hawkins are her family, even when they disappoint her. She knows that family means a give and take relationship, with each person giving what they are good at and capable of, and taking what they need in return. She knows that mistakes will be made.

But, Kali is right. She hasn’t faced the abusive bond that she had with her papa. Kali was old enough when she was taken to remember her birth family and original life. She was never prey to Brenner’s twisted love the way that El was. Before she escaped, El had never known any other life or parent but the lab and Papa.

Brenner was the first person to hold El when she was born. He continued to be the one to hold her when she needed someone. Even very abusive parents and their kids still love each other. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, and we saw that bond constantly between El and Brenner in season 1.

El’s not going to be whole until she deals with her feelings toward him, the loss of the safety and home that the lab provided, and all of the other feelings that she wishes she didn’t have. Plus, of course, the anger about what was taken from her and done to her.

El hasn’t checked to see if Brenner is alive, or looked for his body (she found Barb’s body, so that’s possible), because she’s afraid of what she’d find. She’d have to directly confront things she’s not ready to face, possibly even Brenner himself. She’s not ready for that. She may even be able to feel his consciousness somewhere in the back of her head.

Becky is still one of the sheeple after all. Did she believe anything El said, or was she just humoring El until she could get El out of the room long enough to call someone? Becky told El that El could stay with her, with the condition that El tell Becky her story sometime soon, but it didn’t have to be now. Turning around and calling the authorities on the first night is tantamount to a betrayal, and Becky would understand that if she believed any of Terry’s story, never mind what she knows of El’s. Maybe she doesn’t believe that El is really Jane.

El is probably remembering when Benny called the authorities, and ended up dead. Leaving Becky and Terry is as much for their protection as it is for her own. Maybe they won’t think that the girl in question was El if she’s not there.

After El leaves, Terry switches her TV to Action News 8, with the 8 filling up the screen. This was her plan all along. She’s more lucid than she appears, as I’ve theorized all along, but she’s like an oracle who speaks in riddle and prophecy. Until now, she hasn’t had anyone who could interpret her properly.

How did Terry find the stories of all of the kids in the files? You couldn’t do an internet search back then. Did El inherit her finding ability from Terry? If so, Terry’s seems more well-developed, since she can hunt for types of people, while El can only hunt for specific people.

Or was Terry looking up the backstories on children she’d seen with her own eyes? There were a lot of doors in that hall. Were children behind all of them? Where are those children now? Why did Brenner take those particular children? Did they already have powers, or did he know something about their genetics? Are they all the children of his former test subjects?

With Kali in the world, there will now always be the question of Real/Not Real? They had El/Jane ask Kali if she was real for a reason, then show us NotRealBrenner later for a reason. A powerful illusionist can start a war based on illusions, or stage a bloodless coup. She would have been able to walk right out of the lab by making herself invisible, perhaps with the help of a distraction off to the side. She and El may have been separated because they were learning to combine their powers, which would make them a formidable team.

At least there is a time limit on her illusions of 1 1/2 minutes. Enough to accomplish something, but not enough to use illusion to make someone a hostage in their own fake life.

I believe that Ray is telling the truth and Brenner is alive. The scene at the end of season 1 in the junior high hall happened fast, the demogorgon died soon after, and we never saw his body. No Body=No Death. Did the demogorgon even have time to eat him or take him to the Upside Down and make him an incubator? It’s believable that he was hurt but got himself to safety somehow, unnoticed in the chaos of that night. Especially if he has psychic powers of his own and could psychically call for help.

If you examine the articles that are readable from Terry’s file, it’s clear that Terry was collecting stories of strange child disappearances. Stories strange enough that there was probably a mutant inhuman psychic involved, unless Brenner himself has powers that strong.

  These are the headlines from the file that I could catch-

Cleveland Teen Girl Missing in Indiana

Part of the article is readable as El flips through. The girl was a 16 year old honors student and basketball team captain, in Indiana for a basketball conference championship game. “After leading her team to victory, the girl disappeared somewhere between the Indiana junior high gymnasium and the bus waiting to take her and the rest of the team [back to] Ohio…

That sounds like Brenner either used Kali to help take this girl, he has a similar ability himself, or he has another mutant psychic who he’s manipulated into cooperating.

Another Girl Lost

From County Hospital (Photo of Toddler age boy)

end of word Schoolyard

Pawtucket Mother and Daughter Missing

Baby Boy Missing from County Hospital- Frank Williams, Memphis

A baby boy went missing during a nursing staff shift change. The nurse who took him had been out sick for the week before, and was found dead in her home, with no signs of the baby, when police went to investigate.

San Diego, State Police

Vanished! Indian Girl Missing in London (Kali is at least 6 in the photo)

Couldn’t tell how she went missing in London, but neighbors insist that she’s a stubborn girl who’ll surely be seen again.

Brenner was somehow taking children from very public places. It seems unlikely that he’d be able to convince all of those people that he’d have the right to take the children, or that he’d be able to buy off all of the witnesses. Psychic abilities have to be involved in the abductions.

Here are the clearest screen caps Metamaiden could get of the readable pages in the files. No doubt someone out there will have better images, but these are a start.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

    I’ll write more about El’s journey and growth across the entire season in my end of season post. For now, let’s look at El, Kali and their relationship to each other. Kali is a mirror of what could have happened to El if she hadn’t found the particular boys that she did, when she did in season 1. El started out with the same kind of troubles that Kali did: She had no knowledge of the world or how to survive in it, and had to rely on her power and the kindness of strangers. The first person El found was Benny, but he couldn’t protect her, and she was quickly on the run again.

Kali’s escape, as far as we know, was an individual event that didn’t make the news or stir up the town at all, unlike El’s, which was related to a major event at the lab that couldn’t be completely hidden, and that involved one of the boys. So Kali would be seen as a runaway, while El was able to be believed as part of a larger conspiracy that her rescuers had a stake in.

Even though it was covered up, Kali’s escape wasn’t actually without conflict, as she herself tells us. There was the body that was mentioned on the news the night Will’s fake body was found in S1 Ep4. The reporter said another body had been found drowned in the quarry 7 years ago. It’s never been mentioned again, and Hopper didn’t know about it, since he didn’t think there had been any unusual deaths in the town in decades. That would have been while he was still in the big city. Was that death due to Kali’s escape? Did the lab successfully cover it up, or was it Kali who dumped the body?

The lab and the Upside Down conspired to make El’s second situation temporary as well. She ended up wandering in the woods, with the lab under reorganization. Kali ended up on the city streets far away, with the lab still run by Brenner. Hawkins was too dangerous to stay in or near for very long.

At the end of season 1, El had another patron waiting for her, a father figure who’d lost his own daughter and needed a reason to pull himself out of his crippling grief, depression and addiction. Hopper also had the guilt of betraying El to Brenner to work off, though it doesn’t seem like anyone alive but him knows about it.

So EL had a safe, warm home with a parent, but she was a prisoner. Kali was on the streets, but she was free. Both were still angry and lost inside, not knowing who they were, without purpose in their lives, without biological family or roots to fall back on. The Lost Sister has layers of meaning for both sisters.

Kali assembled a gang of angry outcasts like herself, and they began to work through their anger by feeding on it, making revenge and street justice their careers. It’s a dangerous game, and she can’t get too close to anyone in her gang, because the truth of her past is still too dangerous to share. Her life is still empty in many ways.

El, on the other hand, spent a year clinging to hope and the word “soon’, trying to believe Hopper when he told her that she’d be able to live openly in the world before long. When she reached her limit, he was still caught up in his own emotional issues. He couldn’t see that her issues are real and serious. She can’t just decide to be okay with sitting alone in the cabin with her trauma, and anger, and the need to live her own life, all day, every day. She needs more or she will go crazy, for reals.

It’s scary to me how often I need to write this ⬆️ ⬆️ in recaps. Stop holding women hostage, guys, even when you think it’s for our own good..

So El leaves the cabin and visits Terry. She learns about Kali, and goes to find her. They discover each other and finally they each have someone with shared experiences. It’s like coming home. El and Kali feel an immediate bond.

But, while they share some profound things in common, they are also different people, possibly with different goals and priorities. Kali is a good person, who’s been doing the best she can with her lot in life. But she’s ruled by her hurt and anger. El doesn’t know what she wants yet, but she’s hesitant about killing that isn’t done in the heat of the moment, or to defend a friend in need.

Kali gives El choices every step of the way, unlike everyone else in her entire life. Everyone else has told her what to do, what to think, what to wear, where to go, and what she should see as right and wrong. Even Mike. Many judged her by things that were outside of her control: her past in the lab, her powers, her looks.

El loves being with Kali, but she has reservations about Kali’s lifestyle. Seeing Kali’s choices and being in her world clarifies things for El. She realizes what’s important to her. What she’s willing to sacrifice, and who she’s willing to sacrifice it for. Seeing the images of Brenner trying to manipulate her, combined with images Hopper and Mike in trouble, solidifies her resolution.

El has a family. She has ways of her own to save them. They need her and she needs them. That’s where she belongs. She’ll work things out with Hopper. Get him to understand that she can’t be a prisoner anymore. He can’t physically contain her if she doesn’t let him, anyway. It’s time to go home.

Kali watches El run away and feels like she’s losing one of the few true bright spots in her life. She misses El, and the human connection that El brought her, already. She wonders what El could have in Hawkins that would make her willing to risk sacrificing her freedom for these people.

Kali’s still angry, and doesn’t know if she could get to the point of living the almost normal life that El hopes to have waiting for her. She wonders whether it would be worth following El to Hawkins and trying it out, or whether she should follow and take out her anger on the original source of her pain, the lab itself.

For tonight she needs to focus on escaping the police and finding someplace safe to sleep.

Whisper to a Scream lyrics. That faithless daughter line is interesting.

Some things take forever But with building bricks of trust and love Mountains can be moved

Love come, down upon us ’til you flow like water Burning, with the hope of insight Feathered, look they’re covered with a bright elation Stolen, in the sight of love

We are, we are, we are but your children Finding our way around indecision We are, we are, we are ever helpless Take us forever, a whisper to a scream

Birds fly, in the eye of the faithless daughter Broken, at the bitter end Wasted, sacrifice for a new nirvana Night time, sends us on our way

We are, we are, we are but your children Finding our way around indecision We are, we are, we are ever helpless Take us forever, a whisper to a scream

We are, we are, we are but your children Finding our way around indecision We are, we are, we are ever helpless Take us forever, a whisper to a scream

Stranger Things Season 2 Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister Recap In The Lost Sister, El continues her journey of self discovery with a trip to Chicago to find her psychic sister, 008/Kali.

[coleymari-blog]

Diverging Paths

Fourth Prompt for @nalu-week2017. Second Day: Tarot; where Natsu and Lucy meet in a different time under MUCH different circumstances.

As Princess of the Realm, Lucy had many obligations. Her father, King Jude of Heartfilia had his fair share as well, hence why his only daughter was currently packed into a carriage on her way to meet her future husband. In order to preserve peace between their two nations, her father had promised her hand in marriage to Prince Dan in the neighboring country to the South. Unfortunately, she was used to feeling like a bargaining chip.

Sitting in the ornately decorated, wood cart, Lucy stared out the window at the passing landscape, sighing to herself quietly. Her Royal Guards, Erza and Gray, sat on the bench opposing her, bickering about their responsibilities once they arrived in their new home. She’d been lucky when Dan had allowed her to bring two of her closest loved ones with her. Even the fact that he’d allowed her to do anything made her want to scoff. All that did was set the tone for what she knew would be the rest of her miserable days.

“Cheer up, Lucy,” Erza remarked warmly, drawing the princess’s attention her friends. “I’ve been assured that the King’s castle has a beautifully maintained garden. Perhaps we could take a walk through it after we’ve settled in our quarters.”

“If my new jailer permits,” Lucy grumbled, crossing her arms delicately over her chest, as much as the tightly laced bodice would allow of course. All she’d done was move from one prison to the next. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. Sighing, she dropped her shoulders and attempted to relax. “Sorry, Erza,” she said, her royally influenced smile etching on her lips. “You’re right. I’m sure they’re beautiful.”

Gray was the next one to voice his opinion. “I don’t get why your Father picked this guy, apparently he’s a royal pain in the ar--.” He didn’t get to finish his thought before Erza punched him in the arm, hard. His steely gaze turned on his ally quickly. “Was that really necessary?!”

The two soldiers were bickering before Lucy knew it, causing the blonde to laugh at the familiarity of it all. It felt like she was home again, easing the ache in her heart for a moment. All before disaster struck.

“Titania!” yelled the Carriage Driver, another of Lucy’s guards named Gajeel. By the tone of his voice, the Princess could tell the matters outside were serious. The carriage screeched to a halt, jostling the young royal between its walls. She was commanded to stay put as her two best friends left her unattended in order to fend off whatever enemy lurked in the surrounding forest.

Lucy’s mind automatically assumed the worst, picturing Bandit raiders, assassins from warring lands, she’d been warned of it all by the time she was ten. Before she had even left her castle, Sir Capricorn, the head of her Father’s guard, had warned her of the possibility of interception on her journey. The worried princess calmed her racing mind by reminder herself that Gray, Erza, and Gajeel were three of Celestiana’s best warriors. Whatever had come for them, her guards would take care of the problem before it even had the chance to escalate further, she was sure.

Erza rushing back into the carriage didn’t bode well for Lucy. The redhead was heaving beneath her armor plates, her hand covered in blood splatter. Probably from the unfortunate soul that dared to cross blades with Erza “Titania” Scarlet.

“Princess, we must take evasive action,” the redhead commanded, throwing open the opposite door. Lucy and her guardian took off into the dense forest in hopes of finding an appropriate hiding place. As they scurried, the bandits were hot on their tail which caused the blonde girl to panic.

“Erza, what are we going to do?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear. The two Celestials dodged between the foliage as Erza made them serpentine through the trees.

Finding a hollow log, the guard quickly peered around, ensuring they were alone. “Lucy, I need you to hide in here until I can come back for you,” she instructed, kneeling down to aid her charge. Tears sprung forth from the princess’s eyes.

“P-please don’t-t leave me b-behind” she pleaded, fingers gripping onto her best friend’s armor. The soldier hastily tucked Lucy’s appendages back into the log.

“I’ll come find you, I promise,” the redhead whispered before taking off again into the forest alone with hopes of finding her comrade in one piece.

Hours soon passed and the sun began to fade behind the mountains. Lucy, stricken with fear, had refrained from moving a single muscle as she awaited her valets’ return. The forest had been eerily quiet, leading the princess to believe that everything was fine, or that everything had gone terribly wrong.

Deciding to disobey Erza’s command, Lucy forced her stiff body out of her hiding place in order to find her friends. After wandering for awhile in the dark, she unfortunately became more lost in the process, coming back to her spot multiple times in attempts at finding her way out. Grumpily she threw herself down onto her log and huffed, desperately wishing that she’d been able to pay better attention to her surroundings. No doubt Erza and Gray knew where they were, wherever they were.

A rustling in the trees soon caught Lucy’s attention and she jumped up from the log, grabbing at whatever ‘weapon’ she could find in the near vicinity. With a rock in hand, she awaited whatever was out there. “Show yourself!” she demanded, heart racing and courage wavering. The last thing she expected to see was pink hair...?

Two hands shot out of the brush, a tuft of pink soon following, accompanied by a man around Lucy’s age dressed in the typical Gypsy attire. His muscled chest was tanned and exposed beneath a patchwork vest, baggy white linen pants covered most of his lower body, and a frayed white scarf held back his salmon locks. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said slowly as if speaking to a child. “You’ve been running around these woods for a couple of hours now, so I figured I would help you.” He nodded to the rock in her hand. “As soon as you drop your weapon that is.”

Lucy looked at the stranger, at her rock, and back at the stranger before placing it back on top of the log. “Want to tell me why you let me run around all that time instead of helping me?!” she screeched, hands now on her hips.

The forest gypsy just grinned toothily before beckoning her to follow him. “There’s way worse in these woods than me,” he threw over his shoulder as he turned and walked further into the forest, leaving Lucy with no option but to follow.

After a few silent minutes, the two of them arrived in a small camp outlined by a handful of wooden wagons. There were maybe twenty people in all, each dressed just as her mystery savior. He walked her to the wagon near the ‘top’ of the circle where there sat an older man dressed almost identically to the man on Lucy’s right.

“Natsu!” bellowed the man from his perch, causing the Princess to tremble slightly. “Why have you brought an outsider to our camp?”

Natsu looked at the ground, an obvious sign of respect and subservience. “She was lost in the woods, Papa,” he explained, gesturing to her clothes. “And she obviously wasn’t prepared to spend the night out there.” Lucy blushed as the gypsy continued to speak on her behalf. “Please, let her stay the night and I will escort her back to town come morning. Please?!”

Looking over the young girl, Igneel agreed with his son. “Very well, but she is your responsibility.”

Lucy wanted to speak up for herself. She was a Princess for Gods’ sake! She was no one’s ‘responsibility’ save for Erza, Gajeel, and Gray. A small gasp tore through her sealed lips, Natsu the first one to realize. “Something the matter?”

“Did anyone find anyone else in the forest today?!” she cried, tears streaming down her soiled cheeks. Natsu turned to his father, receiving a slow nod in response to his silent question.

“There are a woman and two men in one of the wagons,” the pinket explained, running his hand through his hair. He pointed at the bottom of her gown, where her family crest was elegantly stitched in. “Wearing cloaks with sigils like that. But they’re sleeping. They weren’t exactly in the best shape when my sister, Wendy got to them. Thankfully she’s our healer, so she got to work right away before we even got them back to camp.”

Lucy sighed in relief as Natsu led her to the neighboring wagon. He parted the drapes and allowed her to see her friends, all three sleeping soundly and bandaged up practically everywhere on their bodies. She shook her head as she continued to cry. “This is my f-fault,” she choked, “T-they’re my f-friends. They w-were protect-ting me.”

“Protecting you?” Natsu asked, taking a minute to put two and two together. “Wait! You’re the Heartfilia Princess, aren’t you?!” The rest of the group fell silent but their facial expressions told her everything she needed to know. Obviously, they weren’t exactly devoted inhabitants of the town, and her father hadn’t exactly been kind to their people. All she could do was hope that her story would win them over.

After recounting all that had happened, and being verified by Wendy (who had gotten bits and pieces from her patients before they passed out), Natsu led her to the first wagon again and went inside, helping her up the rickety steps. He rummaged through a trunk before throwing her a dress to wear, one much lighter than her own. “Go ahead and put that on for now,” he instructed, leaving her alone in order to do just that. “I’ll be by the fire when you’re ready.”

Lucy changed quickly and followed Natsu out to the fireside. There were children playing, people eating, drinking, and laughing, and another woman reading cards. She couldn’t help but smile at what surrounded her. Part of her envied the freedom the Gypsies had, the way they traveled from one town to another in search of adventure. Another part of her wondered if she could ever give up her royal life to lead one of poverty and uncertainty. Looking around the circle, Lucy’s gaze kept returning to the card reader, filling the princess with intrigue.

Seeing her attention being drawn to Cana, Natsu led them both to the fortune teller and sat them down on the other side of her crate.

“I’m guessing no one has told you your future before,” the brunette slurred, stacking her deck before handing it to the blonde. “Shuffle these while thinking of the one question you’ve always wanted to be answered.”

Looking around at the happiness and freedom that surrounded her, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever have the same. Would she be destined to have every aspect of her life controlled for her or would she command her own destiny one day? After she was sure the cards were completely shuffled, she handed them back to the fortune teller and sat back, awaiting her fate.

Cana set the cards in a very simplistic order, a simple line of three. Flipping the first card, she explained that that particular card meant she had encountered recent misfortune, like losing someone she cherished. The middle card signaled that she was at a crossroads. Before reading the third card, Cana took a moment to watch as Natsu stared intently at their vistior with emotions she’d never seen from him before. Grinning, she flipped the last card, and couldn’t believe that the fates were with her.

“Looks like your in for your own adventure, Princess,” she teased, “Hope you’re up for the challenge.”

[coffeeandtin]

You Might Wanna Look at the Stars for This Part

Anon requested The Seven reacting to the Reader being taken hostage. I basically contrived seven scenarios (admittedly, without too much concern for the hows or whys) wherein the reader is in dire straights, and the guys (for the most part) get to do what they do best. In short, it’s angst and a body count! Also, I’m throwing in a blood tw. It’s definitely not the the goriest thing I’ve ever written, but the warning’s there just to be safe. The title is from a quote from Westworld that randomly caught my attention. 

Red Harvest: You willingly go with your captors in order to avoid trouble. The plan, you will admit, is short-sighted; but it was the only way to avoid a public fight between them and Red Harvest. Even if Red won the initial fight, there would surely have been a riot to follow. 

Using the land to keep himself hidden, Red stays parallel to the group as you move. His blood boils at the memory of all dreadful things they said they’d do to you. But Red waits until they stop. When the time is right, he announces his presence by neatly placing an arrow in the throat of man who pinioned your arms behind your back. Two more men meet similar ends before Red Harvest is on them. You can hear his blade slicing flesh and cloth. His quiet brutality regains you your freedom. After he unties you, he remains distant from you, as though he assumes you fear him. In your own quiet way you assure him that that’s not the case. 

Goodnight Robicheaux: Goody climbs high enough so that he has you and your captors in his rifle’s sights. Something relentless and cold is there within him. It’s familiar, and hateful, and necessary. He sets himself and settles his breathing. All the time in the world, he lies to himself. He squeezes the trigger and hears the report of his rifle and and feels the recoil almost simultaneously. There is a space of time between the pull of the trigger and when his target falls to the ground, bereft of life. Borrowed time. Most of the rest scatter, but they don’t get far. One of them is hiding in a tent, and when Goodnight arrives in the little camp, he uses a revolver to end that man’s life. North, or South, they are all equally dead; and you are safe. His bleak, lethal expression is still there, but it is immediately replaced with warmth you’ve come to associate with the sharpshooter. 

Billy Rocks: There are five of them in that gunless little town that interrupt your walk with Billy. In varying degrees of inebriation, they think nothing of tossing you, bodily, between themselves. They laugh, and sneer; and taunt both you and Billy with all manner of cruel epithets. Billy remains just outside of their circle, keeping his voice even, and his demands for your release calm. But Billy’s stillness is double-edged. He's sizing them up. He flexes his fingers, feeling the reassuring hug of the gloves on his hands. The largest of them hits you hard, then asks Billy what he’s going to do about it. 

And Billy answers. A trademark weapon in each hand, Billy is balletic as he slashes and wounds. He leaves the five men bleeding and whimpering in his wake. Each will live with the scars, and the knowledge that they were let off easy.

Jack Horne: They take you from Jack, and to their credit, they manage to put quite a few miles between you and the mountain man before years of honed skill and instinct lead him to you. He is brute force and inevitability. He strikes like the wrath of God; and when the dust settles, you do your best to ignore the pink, exposed intestine and and the lifeless gazes of the men that had lately meant you harm. Jack releases you from your bonds. There’s relief in his features, but no pride. Jack stays closer to you, but he barely meets your gaze. He’s quieter than usual, but you don’t have to ask why. You know he’s thinking about all the times before you. About everyone in his life that he couldn’t save.

Vasquez: Sometimes the truth about Vasquez’s past slips your mind. It’s not wishful thinking on your part; he’s always so quick with a smile or a joke that it’s easy to forget what he’s capable of. When a far less friendly criminal corners you in an alleyway, Vasquez doesn’t think; he just acts. His revolvers flash silver as he cuts down the threat with sudden, and expedient violence. You go to thank your rescuer, but there’s something unfamiliar in his features; something you’ve never seen. It’s not just anger; it’s rage. And when Vasquez returns to himself, his shoulders slump a little and then he smiles at you. You realize that, on some level, Vasquez’s fury was directed just as much at himself as it was at the man he just slayed.

Sam Chisolm: “The poster I have for you says “Dead, or Alive,”” Sam informs the man who is holding a gun to your temple. Sam realizes it’s not very becoming of him, but to his mind the man chose door number one whenever he put his hands on you. So Sam talks, and Sam reasons, meeting his mark’s gaze; all the while keeping his hands a respectful distance from his guns. You stand between the two of them like some half-forgotten bargaining chip as Sam casts his spell. He watches and waits for a mistake, and eventually his patience is rewarded. The man gets too lazy, or too bold. Maybe both. He allows you to slouch in his grip, and enough of him is exposed that Sam fires, quicker than lightning. The man’s body kicks against you, and then drops. In that moment you are glad that Sam has no reason to hunt you. For his part, Sam supposes it wasn’t very becoming of him, but the job is done, and you are safe. 

Joshua Faraday: “I actually did win. I didn’t cheat,” Faraday tells you afterward. “Well, not this time, anyway.” His smile fades quickly, though. His jest sounds hollow, even to his own ears. The two of you sit in your hotel room and reflect on the events of the evening. Faraday’s good luck, though perhaps questionable, was genuine. You could see it in the way he sat, in the way he looked at his opponents. You never looked at his cards, lest you gave anything away. But eventually Faraday’s luck was too good, and the man next to him took exception to it when Faraday hit yet another flush. There was an uproar. Playing cards scattered and whiskey bottles shook on the table; and you found yourself a captive with a blade to your throat. You saw Faraday’s fingertips dance over Ethel and Maria and there was a smile on his face despite the fact your life was being threatened. He joked and bragged, but even Joshua Faraday didn’t have the gall to continue whenever the blade was pressed harder to your neck. “Okay! Okay!” Faraday said at last, his voice cracking as he put his hands up, unsuccessfully hiding his dread. “We were just leaving.” 

You were released, and you left with Faraday and his smarting pride.

[lost-n-stereo]

Someone prompted me with Clarke fills in for Kane in Bellamy’s weekly poker night. Only problem is I can’t remember who or if it was an anon. So if it was you, here you go!

wanna bet?

“Son of a bitch!”

Clarke jumps a little at the sound, mostly because it sounds jovial and not like someone is being attacked. Fun times lately are few and far between so it makes her smile when she hears the commotion.

There is a loud thump and then a yell followed by four different laughs coming from a room down the hall. She glances at the book in her hand, at the paragraph she has now read three times over, and sighs as she marks her place and sets it down on the table next to her bed. With all of the noise and boyish laughter coming from Bellamy’s room there is no way in hell she makes it to the end of this chapter.

“Take that, you sneaky bastard!”

Clarke laughs out loud to her empty room at the sound of Bellamy’s voice, animated and boisterous and unlike anything she’s ever heard him sound like. There is more laughter and she grins to herself when something dawns on her.

He’s happy.

They are all happy. And even though it’s probably short lived, because of who they are and where they are, today at least everything is okay.

It only takes ten more minutes of laughter and yelling before she decides to investigate, not knowing exactly what is happening down there but assuming it’s a boy’s night of some sort since she hasn’t heard a feminine voice or laugh floating down the hall.

Her stomach clenches a tiny bit when she thinks about a woman’s voice coming from Bellamy’s room but it passes as quickly as it came.

She tosses her legs over the side of her bed so she can slide her feet into her boots, which she keeps close on the floor just in case. After lacing them up she crosses the room quickly, pulling the heavy metal door open and pushing it closed quietly behind her.

Five sets of eyes are fixed on her when she knocks and opens Bellamy’s door in one fluid motion, not stopping to wait for an invitation. The air in the room is smoky and she coughs a little as she waves her hand through the air. Bellamy, Monty, Jasper, Miller and Macallan are all seated around a table, cigars in hand and glasses of alcohol sitting in front of them.

Everyone seems to talk at once.

“Heyyyyy! It’s Clarke!”

“First woman I’ve seen in hours. Thank the gods!”

“Clarke! Do you know how to get bourbon out of…what the hell is this shirt made out of anyways?”

“We needed a sixth and now you’re here, it’s a sign!”

And then lastly, Bellamy’s confused voice as he squints through the hazy fog of cigar smoke.

“Clarke? Did we wake you up? Fuck, I’m sorry. We’ll be quieter.”

With that Bellamy shoots a look at the rest of the table, and one by one they all quiet down instantly.

Clarke just laughs as she shuts the door behind her. “You guys aren’t being too loud. I just got bored of reading and decided to see what all the excitement was down here.”

The words, “Poker night!”, ring out all around and Bellamy rolls his eyes as he stands up next to Clarke.

“We could use a sixth, if you’re interested.” He has to lean over so she hears him over the sounds of the others. Clarke shivers a bit when his breath hits her neck.

“I’ve never played poker before,” she lies smoothly. Wells taught her on the Ark when she was eleven to pass the time between classes. He also taught her the most important thing to know about playing poker. Don’t let anyone know how good you are. “Is it hard to learn?” She refuses to play the dumb blonde roll but feigning ignorance just to throw them off the trail will only help her down the line.

She catches Monty and Jasper shooting each other looks across the table knowingly and fights the urge to roll her eyes. There is no way in hell she’s losing to these guys.

“So what are we playing for?” She asks as Bellamy pulls out the chair next to him so she can sit down. He flushes a little when she thanks him and scoots closer to the table. “And what exactly are we playing?”

Bellamy gives her a quick smile before he plops down in his own seat and clears his throat as he shuffles the deck of cards he’s holding.

“Texas hold ‘em is the game,” he says as he expertly slides the cards from one hand to the other. “Each player gets two cards…Jasper get Clarke a drink…and then we all bet like this.”

She pretends to listen intently as Bellamy explains big and small blinds, the flop and other countless facts that she’s known for years. He’s very patient with her and it’s actually really sweet, she thinks, that he’s taking the time to teach her. They don’t technically have currency or a need for it in Arkadia so they play with rocks and small bits of plastic as a substitute for chips.

“Wait,” she says as Bellamy counts out three piles of their stand in chips and sets it next to her glass of bourbon. “What are we playing for?”

“We mostly just play for fun,” Miller says, his own glass of bourbon halfway to his lips.”Bragging rights.”

“That’s stupid,” Clarke says and she almost cringes when all eyes are on her again. “I just mean, why not raise the stakes? Make things a little more interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?” Bellamy asks, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he studies the cards in his hand.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. Like…the winner of each round is owed a favor from whoever she beats.”

Jasper snorts into his glass. “Whoever she beats?”

Crap. She didn’t mean to say it like that. Monty narrows his eyes at her like he’s picking up on what she’s trying to hide but she hopes that his glass of moonshine will distract him soon.

She loses the first two rounds, one on purpose and one not, and she holds back a laugh when Bellamy pats her hand and tells her that it’s always tough the first time you play. They tell her because it’s her first time playing that she doesn’t owe anyone any favors.

This is turning out better than she could have hoped.

Rounds three through six are a clean sweep. She gets Jasper to do her laundry for a week, Miller has to switch her one night shift, Macallan has to shine her boots and Monty has to give her his dessert for the next three days.

“You’re a ringer,” Bellamy says, clearly impressed, and Clarke shrugs as she does a complicated shuffle that Wells taught her.

“Maybe I’ve played a few times,” she smirks as she deals the cards. She’s determined to beat Bellamy, the thought of him owing her a favor is just too good to pass up.

The end of the hand comes quickly, everyone else folds and it’s just the two of them. She gets a full house, which beats his two pair, and he groans.

“Fuck my life,” he says into his glass. “I’m terrified of what you’re going to make me do.”

Without warning a flash of dirty things crosses her mind. Mostly things Bellamy could do shirtless.

“So what do you want?” He asks, his tongue darting out to lick the dark liquid from his bottom lip.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she says truthfully and the rest of the table starts complaining.

“That’s not fair!”

“You decided right away that I’d shine your boots. Who even needs their boots shined? It’s pure fucking mud outside!”

“You just want to kiss him, Clarke. Don’t even lie.”

Clarke snickers and pushes away from the table. “I’m going to go back to my room now.”

“I’ll walk you.”

Bellamy stands up from the table and Clarke hides a grin when he flips off Jasper and Monty for “oohing” and “ahhing”.

“Those two are idiots,” he says when they start the short walk back to her door.

“But not entirely wrong,” she tells him. They are at her door before she knows it and he’s watching her lips when she speaks. “About the me wanting to kiss you, anyways. Everything else is probably a bunch of bullsh..”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because his hands are in her hair and he’s tipping her head back so he can kiss her. His tongue tastes like the rich alcohol they’ve been drinking and she moans when she feels him licking into her mouth.

“So what do you want, Clarke?” His voice is rough and she can feel his heart pounding through his thin t shirt. “Anything you want. It’s yours.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and he practically growls at the gesture. Her hand snakes down between them and he groans when she grabs onto his belt buckle and pulls.

“I can think of a few things,” she says as she opens the door behind her with her free hand. “But they all require you to be shirtless.”

Bellamy grins wolfishly as he lets her pull him into her room by his belt. “I can handle that.”

She trusts him to keep up his end of the bargain.

He does.

[antionetterparker]

Ranking the 39 best ways to get out of debt in 2019

Whether your mountain of debt started with a shopping spree where you got a little trigger happy with the plastic or pursuing a fancy liberal arts degree, you’re here because you want to take a bulldozer to that mountain and finally be #debtfree.

Sitting on a big pile of debt is basically burning piles of money on the reg. For some perspective, Americans with commercial debt spend, on average, $1,300 per month on interest payments. (1)

That’s more than a lot of people’s rent, and it does nothing but keep collections at bay.

This only solution is to pay your debt off faster. This post covers how to do that in 3 different ways:

Improving the terms of your debt

Cutting costs

Making extra disposable income

Be sure to check out my other rankings: best online business ideas, small business ideas, and how to make money fast.

Let’s do this. Ranked by how quickness, sustainability, and ease, here are the best ways to get out of debt:

39. Do the math

If you’ve got $20,000 in credit card debt and you’re making $300 payments each month, it’ll be just over 12 years until you’re debt-free. You’ll have basically lit more than $23,000 on fire in the form of interest payments.

Use a debt repayment calculator like Credit Karma’s (2) to crunch the numbers and figure out exactly how long it’s going to take you to pay off your debt and how much you’ll be paying in interest.

38. Automate your finances

Self-made millionaire David Bach wrote a whole book on this one called “The Automatic Millionaire”, saying that it’s “the one step that virtually guarantees that you won’t fail financially.” (3)

Set a goal for when you want to finish paying off your debt and use the flipside of that debt calculator to calculate how much you’d have to pay each month to do that. Set up automatic payments on all of your credit cards and loans to that monthly minimum.

Recent college grads: the US Department of Education gives you a 0.25% interest discount just for setting up autopay, and many private lenders give you up to 0.50% off. (4) Not a lot, but it takes like 20 seconds to sign up for autopay.

37. Pay the maximum

A whopping 73% of Americans die in debt. A big reason is that many of them (yep, lookin’ at you) are only paying the minimum on their debt, which is the best way to stay in debt forever.

Instead, pay the maximum amount your budget will allow each month. Those courtside tickets can wait until AFTER you’ve paid off your debt.

36. The “avalanche” method

Call it the avalanching, stacking, or the ladder method, it’s all the same: hands down the most financially savvy and efficient method for paying off multiple different streams of debt.

Pay off your high-interest debts first (usually your credit cards). Set your automatic payments to the minimum on all of your cards and loans except the one with the highest interest rate: throw all the money you can at that one until it’s gone. Then target your second highest interest rate using all the extra money you have in the absence of the first debt, and so on.

35. The “snowball” method

For those who need to be coddled a little, snowballing is paying off your smallest debts first so that these little wins can motivate you to attack larger, more intimidating debts.

That initial boost of confidence that the snowballing method creates has helped people tackle $50k+ in debt in just a few years. (5)

34. Cash out your credit card cashback

If you’ve got cashback sitting around on any of your credit cards from incurring all this debt, you may as well take advantage of it.

Don’t try to earn any more cashback until you’re debt-free, though.

33. Put windfalls towards your debt

Put any random money you earn outside your regular income towards your debt.

Whether it’s a work bonus, birthday money, a holiday gift, your tax refund, or a $100 you found on the ground, directing that money towards your debt puts you a little bit closer to debt-free status.

32. Sell stuff

Don’t lie, you probably have a basement, garage, or closet somewhere that looks like an audition for Hoarders (without the dead cats, I hope). I’m not going to preach to you about the “life-changing magic of cleaning out your garage”, but I am going to preach to you about how selling crap you don’t need to pay off debt you shouldn’t have is a good idea.

What’s that? You’re too lazy? You don’t even have to leave your house. Sell stuff from your phone on Letgo. (6) Try out Decluttr. (7)

31. Downgrade your stuff

Lifestyle inflation is real. People don’t like to downgrade their standard of living. But you have to if you want to double down on your debt.

This couple even sold their brand new car and got a used junker when they realized they could have used that money to pay off their debt. It probably stung a little, but they managed to pay off $52,000 of debt in just 18 months. (8)

30. Free entertainment

Instead of spending money on movies or concert tickets, seek out cheaper ways to have fun.

Look online and see what kind of free things are happening around your city. Outdoor festivals, movies in the park, all that stuff.

No need to be deathly bored while you’re climbing your way out of debt hell.

29. Garage sale arbitrage

Dig through cheap crap at garage sales, strike gold. Buy valuable items for a fraction of what they’re worth, and resell them online for a huge profit. Repeat.

Corey Levitan, a writer for Men’s Health, banks an extra $20,000 a year doing this. And he only spends 3-5 hours/week on it. (9)

28. Shop through cashback sites/apps

Cashback sites like Rakuten (10) give you money for shopping online and in-store, kinda like a delayed discount. When you cash out your earnings, put it all towards your debt. Also, use a debit card instead of a credit card when doing this unless you want to spend more time paying it off.

Don’t go on a shopping spree just for cashback, though. That’s exactly how a lot of people end up in credit card debt – cashback rewards on their credit cards.

Save these sites for those everyday purchases you have to make, like groceries or maybe clothing.

27. Buy everything with cash

Many studies have shown people generally spend less when they pay with cash than they pay with credit. (11)

Think about this: not only do you have to visit an ATM or bank any time you need cash, but watching those green bills leave your hand is more difficult than swiping/chipping/tapping a piece of plastic.

Also, you won’t be adding more to your current credit balances.

But this applies to debit cards, too. No debt involved with debit cards, but it’s still easier to swipe it than to hand over bills.

26. Keep the change

Take all the loose change you find or get back throughout the day and put it in a jar. Each month, deposit it all and use it to chip away at your debt.

25. Negotiate your bills

Anyone who tells you that you can’t negotiate bills is a liar. Everything is negotiable. According to Consumer Reports, 89% of people who try to bargain are successful at least once. (12)

Try your hand at haggling with your cable and internet bills, and then move up to the big leagues: medical bills, credit cards, and car insurance.

24. Lower your rent

Bargain with your landlord, especially if you live in an apartment: offer to extend your lease, give up your parking space, agree to show your apartment to potential renters, get some roommates, pay a few months’ rent upfront, or refer new renters for a discount.

The best time to negotiate is a few months before your lease ends.

23. Negotiate your credit card interest rate

Sometimes it really is as easy as just asking.

Time Magazine’s money experts recently did a personal finance boot camp that recommends you call up your credit card company and ask them for a lower APR. 80% of callers asking for a lower interest rate were successful. (13)

22. Don’t close credit cards

The second you pay off one credit card, you’ll probably want to immediately call up the credit card company and close it. Don’t.

Unless your card charges an annual fee, keep it open. Check the FICO 5. (14) One of the biggest factors making up your credit score (30%) is your credit to debt ratio. The less credit you have available to you, the higher that ratio, the lower your credit score.

21. Freeze your credit cards… literally

Of course, keeping your credit cards in your wallet after you pay them off is like a recovered cocaine addict keeping an old stash in his bedroom.

Stick them in a bowl of water and freeze it. Every time you want to take the plastic gods out on an impulsive shopping spree, you’ll have to wait for a block of ice to thaw while you think about your life choices.

20. Monitor your credit report

Monitor your credit report on a regular basis for any errors that could be hurting your credit score. If you see any, immediately submit a dispute to get them removed so you can nudge your score upwards to secure better interest rates in your negotiations.

Each of the 3 credit bureaus gives you 1 free report a year. (15) Sites like Credit Karma (16) let you look at your report as much as you want with no penalties as well.

19. Rent your stuff

Airbnb’s cutesy tiny houses and extravagant vacation rentals are taking over, but you don’t have to have real estate to make money renting things out anymore.

Rent out your bike/recreational gear on Spinlister. (17) Got an old bridesmaids dress or fancy tux lying around? Rent out clothing on Style Lend (18) and Date My Wardrobe. (19) Compete with Alamo by renting out your car on Turo (20) or GetAround. (21) And you can rent just about anything on RentNotBuy and Loanables. (22) (23)

18. Borrow against your life insurance

If you’ve got a permanent life insurance policy with a cash value, you can borrow from it to pay off your debt. Just make sure it doesn’t backfire. Interest rates are often lower with this method, but there are penalties involved (including burdening your beneficiaries if you die before the debt is paid off) and you could risk losing your life insurance.

17. Make every debt payment on time

No, not just to keep collections at bay. Paying your debts on time keeps your credit score as high as possible, seeing as it’s the most important (35%) of the 5 FICO credit score factors (24).

A higher credit score gives you more leverage when negotiating down your interest rates with your credit card companies. It also helps you secure a lower rate if you want to refinance/consolidate your debt, which you can learn about in the next two tips.

Also, paying on time means you avoid late fees, which are just a waste of money.

16. Refinance your debt

If you qualify for refinancing, you should 100% do it. Basically, you get a new, better (lower interest, usually a personal loan) loan to replace one of your old (higher interest) loans. You can cut years off of your repayment schedule by refinancing.

Pay attention to the term length of the loan you’re refinancing your debt with, though, especially with long-term debt like mortgages. Let’s say you have 5 years left on a 30-year mortgage. Refinancing to a lower interest rate will lower your payment, but you’ll end up paying thousands more in interest.

15. Debt consolidation

Consolidating debt is simply combining multiple debts into one debt by taking out a lower interest loan. Most of the time, consolidating your debt also involves refinancing your debt (see previous tip) – especially if you have several high-interest debt sources.

In addition, you can spend less time juggling 5 different debt accounts and making sure to pay everything on time. Less chance of incurring late fees or worse – the wrath of collections.

If you’ve got debt from more than 2 different sources, you should definitely consider a debt consolidation loan.

14. Balance transfer credit card

Live-saving credit cards exist: they offer a 0% interest rate for a specific “introductory period”, which can be 6 months, 12 months, or even 21 months. You transfer your debt to this card and pay it off interest-free.

Just make sure you pay it off in time, and don’t use it to spend.

The Chase Slate is the only 0% APR balance transfer card with no fees, (25) and the Citi Simplicity offers the longest introductory period of them all (21 months). (26)

13. Loan forgiveness

If you’re a teacher, public servant, permanently disabled, Peace Corps volunteer, nurse, or law enforcement and you have student loan debt, the government might actually pay it off for you.

You don’t get away scot-free, though; these programs usually require you to make 120 qualifying payments (aka 10 years of monthly payments) before you’re considered for loan forgiveness. Check out the Federal Student Aid website for details. (27)

Whether or not you’re forgiven for your gluttonous spending on a metaphysical level is another matter.

12. Have a small emergency fund

If you don’t have some cash set aside for emergencies, you’re going to incur more debt if you get into a bad car accident or something similar.

It doesn’t have to be a lot – $1,000 should be enough for the moment, and you can build it up in increments of as little as $50 a month if you need to.

11. Quit investing

Here’s the thing: paying down debt gets you a guaranteed return (in the form of interest you no longer have to pay), and that return is almost always more than you’d earn on the stock market and always more than you get from a savings account. (28)

Drop the investments for now and put any savings in excess of your small emergency fund toward being debt-free. Not only that, but consider selling some investments and putting the proceeds towards your debt.

10. Become a digital nomad

It’s no secret that I think working from home is the future, and I’m not alone. (Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and Fast Company all agree). (29)

“Digital nomads” have traded in the 9-5 for a digital career that lets them roam the globe while they rake in cash. Aside from the obvious perks – from showing up at the “office” in your swim trunks to your “office” being a tropical island – you can also save tons of money by living somewhere cheap. The cost of living in Thailand is half what it is in the United States. Think about it. (30)

9. Gig economy jobs

Drive for Uber, doing odd jobs on TaskRabbit, shop for people with Shipt, you get the idea. These aren’t the most glamorous ways to make some extra cash, but money’s money and these jobs aren’t too hard to sign up for.

8. Teach a skill for pay

Monetize a skill you have by teaching others how to do it. Know how to play the guitar? Give private lessons. Excellent at a language? Find a language tutoring site and sign up to tutor others.

Even better, make an online course or eBook that teaches your skill for some passive income. Just make sure the content is actually useful.

7. SEO consulting

If you can learn a thing or two about SEO and find a company that would like to improve their SEO (every company), you can rake in enough side money to be out of debt asap. Entry-level SEO Consultants make about $50,000-$60,000/year…with no experience. (31)

6. Be a Virtual Assistant

If you don’t have time to learn technical skills, Virtual Assistants can make money doing any odd job that remote workers need help with, from making phone calls to making Pinterest boards. Find gigs on Upwork – according to them, Virtual Assistants are one of the fastest-growing freelance positions. (32)

5. Content writing

Can you put together a well-written sentence? Know how to capture an audience with some well-crafted words?

Content is still king, and writing it pays well too because you can’t outsource it to just anyone (we see you, wannabe internet companies trying to get away with hiring amateur Malaysian teens to write your blog).

Freelance writers can make anywhere from $30 to $70 an hour. (33)

4. Facebook ads

There are over 25 million businesses using Facebook to market themselves. (34) That’s 25 million potential clients if you know how to run a successful Facebook ad campaign because many business owners are completely clueless when it comes to social media.

Brush up your skills and start offering to do Facebook ads consulting to small businesses in your area.

3. Open an e-Commerce shop

If you want to reel in the side money, this one takes some time to build up, but it’s passive, which you know I love. E-commerce is projected to make up about 13% of all sales this year, and it’ll be up to 17% just 5 years from now. (35)

Make something and sell it. Even better, find yourself a dropshipper and cut out most of the work. Either way, get a piece of that pie.

2. Learn to code

The national average salary for a computer programmer is $84,360. (36)

Combine that with the fact that this job is 100% digital, and you’ve got a recipe for success. Imagine living on a Caribbean island where you can live comfortably on $1,200/month while you’re raking in $7,000/month. Your debt will be gone in no time.

1. Provide leads online for local businesses

Nothing out there beats raking in hot leads for local businesses. You might as well be handing over stacks of cash to these companies, so trust me when I say this: small businesses pay good money for leads.

Plus, local lead generation hits the money-making trifecta: it’s remote, scalable, and automatable. Plus, you’re cutting down on the competition by focusing on local areas.

TBH, it doesn’t really matter whether you stack your debt, snowball your debt, avalanche your debt or any other fancy terms that basically just mean paying off your debt.

Unless you want to spend the next 50 years of your life picking away at a mountain of debt with a toothpick, you need to do more than stop buying pumpkin spice lattes. You need to increase your earnings fast… local lead generation is your bulldozer.

via https://mlmcompanies.org/ranking-the-39-best-ways-to-get-out-of-debt-in-2019/