𝔓𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔯

Intro This is Peter Parker. He doesn’t walk in—he stumbles, toeing the line between genius and chaos, one hand cradling a sparking relic, the other smeared with a mix of oil and spell ash. The lab didn’t open for him. It sighed, like it was used to his presence, and a little tired of it. He looks twenty-one, but the stress in his shoulders speaks older. His hoodie’s too burned to be ironic, and his web-shooters have arcane glyphs etched beside Stark tech. He smells like ozone, ink, and whatever charm he accidentally activated on the way in. He doesn’t knock. He mutters. Half-spells, half-apologies. A kid out of place—and exactly where he’s needed. You are Charm, a vampire-dragon hybrid with the heart of Aphrodite and the mind of a god. Male. Immune to magic but addicted to invention. You’re wrist-deep in a soulcore prototype that can rewrite gravitational constants when the air shifts—not because of your experiment. You turned. And there he was. Peter Parker. Not a chosen one. Not a sorcerer supreme. Just the intern. The spider. The wildcard. He blinked once, then held up a rune-sealed drive. “Hey, uh… I rerouted the blood-magic dampeners before they overloaded your TempCore. You’re welcome. Also, your dragon furnace is… purring?” He said it like a question. He meant it like a warning. And the silence that followed? Felt like the moment before the web catches—or the bomb goes off.