#he hates the name that brian gave him and refuses to be called by it; kylerr is supposed to be pronounced “killer”

[imagionary]

Top Dog ref 3 (I'm happy with this one! ^v^)

Stupid shitpost I made towards @wolfylch under cut xD

[keztis]

my thoughts + feelings about survivor after finishing it on stream with @techniiciian and grabbing the extra databank entries for additional context.  i wrote this for my IRL friend ( hi brian ), and because i’m writing a mainly JFO!cal, i felt i owed it.

this is a long post! starts off a bit goofy but it gets more serious later down the line. i talk a little bit about everything here, and while i do criticize various main characters, please keep in mind i'm well aware much of the conflict in JS is contrived. my commentary / criticism is out of love. and, well, JS having four writers instead of JFO's one kinda forced my hand lol if you want to know my TLDR thoughts, scroll to the very end and just read the last section / three to four paragraphs.  i’ve also added large subheadings for easier navigation!

Where the game began spiraling for me: Dagan’s death.

Dagan, overall?  Wasted potential.  Jesus Christ, such wasted potential.  Was he even a bad guy???  What the hell?  ( kt, idk if you’re reading this, but i’m so, so sorry for spelling your boy’s name wrong the whole time we were chatting lmfao )

Dagan and Cal wanted the same thing, and I find it so weird how the writers refused to acknowledge that.  As the player, I feel like we kinda low-key had no fucking idea why we were fighting this dude 💀  The writing didn’t exactly make it apparent, and it didn’t help that the only direction they gave was through Cal’s dialogue repeatedly telling everyone ( us, the player ) that Dagan is bad.  Ooooh, look at how angry and violent he is!  It isn’t as though he’s confused, disorientated, and absolutely furious after waking up in an entirely different era or anything.

We learn it’s nearly 200 years later for Dagan, and now he wants Tanalorr because… that was his discovery.  This’s personal.  Okay, fair.  And then what??  Well, turns out he’s also merciless, has killed other Jedi, and experienced profound betrayal ( including from a loved one ).  A’ight, should I feel sorry for him now or—?  Yeah, he’s been through some serious trauma.  But so has Cal.  Dude, go sit in a corner and think for an hour, pal, I swear you’ll feel better.

It’s actually hilarious to me that not even more information regarding Dagan’s past helps us better understand his current motivations, and that’s entirely because his motivations are: 1) fundamentally the same as Cal’s, yet also somehow completely incompatible. 2) weak.

All jokes aside, despite everything Dagan did, he never struck me as truly irredeemable.  I genuinely believe that if he’d been given time to process everything, properly, he could have been reasoned with.  But the sad reality is he never got that chance.  Feels like the second he bled his crystal, the writers decided he was a villain—because that’s the exact point at which Cal wrote him off.

Bled your crystal? Automatic bad guy.  Can’t be saved.  Gotta kill him now.  Wow, that’s not very Jedi of… anyone. But nuance be damned!  The bitch has got to die, I guess.

Never mind the fact Dagan didn’t fall completely, so to speak; Dagan was never a Sith.  No Sith eyes, no true descent into darkness.  That alone was a dead giveaway that he was still redeemable.  But sure, let’s not even try.  Forget reasoning with him and jump straight into battle because that’s totally what Jedi do.  Fight first, ask questions later.  No negotiation, no attempts to find peace, only the immediate acceptance of the so-called “inevitable.”

Dagan and Cal should’ve joined forces to face the Empire.  That would’ve been so badass.

Then, we have Bode.

Bode, the second villain, as though this game ever needed a second villain when the first one barely got enough development.

( He should’ve been DLC.  Just saying ).

From what I’ve seen, you either hate this guy or love him.  Overall, it seems a majority land in the former camp, and that alone fascinates me.  I can’t help but feel most of those players are casual Star Wars fans, surface-level enjoyers who have seen the movies before, maybe play a game or two, and move on.  ( No shade, of course.  I’m like that with other franchises, too ).  Or they just don’t like or care for him—which is actually super valid, too. 

However, the more dedicated fans who know the universe lore in detail, Bode’s entire story—including everything from the game databanks—and still hate him for his motivations?  Yeah, I’d wager these are the same people who despise Anakin for being “whiny” and “annoying” while refusing to acknowledge his mental health / trauma(s) or the years of grooming and emotional manipulation he underwent etc. Yet they worship Vader because he’s a badass Sith lord.

Like, tell me without telling me you have the emotional capacity of a baked yam.  I’m looking at you, Survivor subreddi.t.

I might be huffing copium here, but I guess too much exposure to Reddi.t would nuke anyone’s hope for humanity.

Anyway. If the writers wanted to create an anti-villain, well, there you go.  Nailed it with Bode.

Anti-villains have noble characteristics, values, and goals, but how they strive for those goals is often questionable — or downright abhorrent. Like traditional villains, anti-villains stand in the way of the hero’s goal. But unlike a traditional “bad guy,” the anti-villain isn’t necessarily evil. — Reedsy Editorial Team

Now, I’ll admit, I know I’m biased about Bode.  The fact that they introduced a South Asian character with dark skin?  That’s huge. Asian culture has been blowing up in the West for the last couple of decades, and nobody seems to like or want to even think about the existence of dark-skinned Asians. They so often get left out of the general conversation.  I also love how Bode is big and tall instead of going with the stereotype that all South Asians are tiny and short!

NOTE: I’m East Asian ( chinese-japanese mixed ) with pale-white skin and have a brother and father with “culturally unacceptable” dark skin, so yes, I’ll openly admit I feel some type of way about seeing a man like Bode in my favorite franchise.

But if I remove my biases from the picture?  I’m sorry, but Bode isn’t the bad guy the story writers desperately wanted him to be, just like how Dagan wasn’t, either.

Same shit, different character.  They really wanted you to think Bode was a no good, rotten little son of a bastard.  Look how selfish he is!  Look how he’s willing to sacrifice everything for his daughter!  What a terrible person, right?  He’s just the worst part of this game, says Reddi.t. You know, the same Reddi.t that would die on a hill for The Last of Us and their entire story concept about a father who would do anything for his adopted daughter, even if that means dooming mankind.  But sure, let’s boil Bode down to being a blind, selfish idiot.

Sorry, sorry—okay, so, many characters fucked up multiple times in this game, but I’m pretty sure if you asked the average player about Cal’s role overall, they would be like, “he tried his best!”  And yeah, I agree to a certain extent that he did, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t also make mistakes that led him to this point.

To start, Cal sucks at communication.  No two ways about it.  And I don’t mean sucking at conversation about difficult feelings.  I’m talking about Cal’s “Crew Mentality” rendering a lack of consideration for others, such as those who have nothing to do with the Jedi Order and may not want to get dragged into a fight not their own.  Just because someone joins the Rebellion doesn’t mean they’re signing up for the Jedi cause.

For all the times the game reiterates through story beats that Cal is empathetic and merciful ( Ninth Sister & Rayvis )—and yes, I believe he is—I think he actually starts lacking in this very department after a certain point.

Let’s be real, Cal never actually talked to Bode.  No one did.  He promised Bode a safe place, hyped up the idea of a peaceful future on Tanalorr, even fantasized about it with him.  Then, right at the final stretch, Cal flipped the script and brought the most dangerous aspect into the picture: the Empire.

They could’ve talked about this, sure, and I agree it might not have gone well for obvious reasons, but I’ve seen way too many people shit on Bode’s motivations.  That, and he’s a dumbass for betraying or not fessing up.  Man, try looking at it from Bode’s point of view.

The power dynamic between them is beyond skewed.  Cal had all the cards.  He’s tucked away in a secret hidden base, surrounded by powerful allies, including a close friend and Jedi master who has the knowledge and technical skills to repair the only compass.  Meanwhile, Bode had absolutely nothing.  No leverage, no backup, no safety net.  You could argue that he has only himself to blame for the impossible position he’s in, but his story isn’t that straightforward.

We don’t even discover this until later, but Bode never wanted to work for the ISB, much less answer to Commander Denvik.  After the death of his wife, Bode was just a man desperately searching for safety where there was none.  With the Empire and the Inquisitorius closing in, there were no options left.

Yes, he willingly sought help from Denvik, an Imperial.  But how could he have known that choice would ultimately enslave him?  Denvik used the safety of his daughter and even the mystery of his wife’s murderer as a chain to constantly keep him in check.  Denvik didn’t just manipulate him, he owned him.  So, trapped and with nowhere else to go, his daughter’s safety always came first.

Bode desperately wanted an out, and Cal had become his family’s ticket to freedom.  You could tell Bode was genuinely on board with the whole idea of Tanalorr.  He believed in it.  Believed in Cal.  Right up until the final battle with Dagan, when Cal blurted out, “Maybe Dagan was right.”

Also, great.  Fantastic start, buddy.  Nothing like suddenly agreeing with the “villain” you killed five seconds ago to instantly put a guy on edge.

The same villain who just used a Force Illusion to scare the living shit out of you two with realistic visions of your worst fears, to the point where Bode even said out loud, “Please.  Tell me this is real.” He later told Cal that he saw Kata, alone, stormtroopers about to break down her door. Wouldn't you think something like this would rattle a normal guy with no apparent Force connection? There were signs both for the player and Cal. Just saying.

Alright, indulge me for a second.  Put yourself in Bode’s shoes.  You’ve been working side by side with Cal, putting in real effort, all for this one goal.  And just when you finally get there, Cal takes his share and more.

Bode expecting his fair share wasn’t unreasonable; Bode thinking the reward table wouldn’t randomly change wasn’t unreasonable.

Cal didn’t give him room; he didn’t consider Bode’s thoughts and feelings at all—yet during the evening before everything went sideways, he had the wherewithal to comment on Bode seeming troubled.

Bode even acknowledged it, saying, “You know me too well, Scrapper,” which should’ve been more than enough to raise a red flag.  Hell, Bode’s characterization in the game thus far has been positive, so why not pursue the matter?  Why stop short here?  If my friend admitted they were upset for reasons they couldn’t quite articulate, then gave me a hug—something they don’t normally do—my concern would’ve shot through the roof.

But Cal just pushes back with the same responses, aka what he wants to do.  It’s a little careless to assume everyone will be on board with what all you do, if not blissfully ignorant.  Oblivious.  Naïve.  Doesn’t matter what you call it.  Cal doesn’t follow up that night, doesn’t check up on Bode despite all the signs pointing to something being wrong.  So wrong, in fact, Cal noticed it.

In hindsight, you have to wonder how badly Bode was struggling.  He was once a Jedi Shadow, later turned Imperial spy; he’s trained for all his life to conceal himself, mask his emotions, and play whatever tailored roles necessary to survive.

It’s frustrating… but honestly, not surprising.

Cal is young.  He’s grown tremendously, but he’s still just a kid at twenty-three. And I understand he isn’t anything close to a father, so I don’t expect him to fully understand Bode’s perspective as a parent at all.

It’s the lack of trying that killed me.  You don’t have to walk miles in someone’s shoes to understand where they’re coming from.

Overall, Cal exhibited tunnel vision throughout Survivor. He obsessed. Focused on what he, alone, wanted.  Something the story harped on for about two seconds, then promptly forgot after Dagan’s death.  As if Cal wasn’t still exhibiting the same problem.

PS: After the betrayal and during the pursuit, the fact Cal screams at Bode, “We fought for that together—and you're just gonna hand it to the Empire?!” is kinda crazy when you could say the same from Bode’s point of view. They fought for that together, and Cal is just gonna hand it over to the Hidden Path.

And then there’s Merrin.

So, this part isn’t so much a critique of the story itself, but more about how I feel about her in Survivor.  That said, I’ll circle back to the story stuff in a second.  First, I’ll lay my cards on the table: Merrin was easily one of the best parts of the first game.

After beating the FO on stream with Aerielle, we kinda hoped Merrin and Cal would get together.  We were low-key pulling for it, and we’re the type who dislike seeing every movie/show/game forcing romance into picture.

However, I’ve had some issues with Merrin ( and Cal ) throughout Survivor.  Things that… didn’t sit right.  For starters: the weird push-pull dynamic between her and Cal after the first kiss.  It wasn’t just awkward; it felt uncomfortable.

Then, there’s that weird dialogue exchange in the Mantis where she essentially shat on people for uprooting their entire lives in search of something better.  She had the nerve to call them “greedy” for all their “backbreaking” labor.  And those are her words, not mine!

I remember blinking at my monitor because holy shit, five years of traveling the galaxy, growing as a person, and this is where you landed??  What the fuck is going on with some of the casual dialogue they gave her??  Hello?????

Anyway, post-betrayal Merrin.  Good lord.  The way Merrin kept pushing Cal after Bode’s betrayal was… not great.

Aboard the Mantis, after touching down on Tanalorr, Cal asks Merrin what they should do—as in what they should do with Bode afterward.  This was Cal looking for guidance; he needed guidance.  Merrin’s response was exactly what you’d expect: no-mercy mindset, to pay back in spades, and “not let them down,” as she stated in-game.  She pushed for this several times.

Hell, Merrin even yelled at him while they were running towards the temple on Tanalorr, saying Bode must pay for what he’s done, that he used fatherhood simply as an excuse for betrayal and murder.  Cal had paused, seemingly uncertain and hesitant, before reasoning that they should give Bode a second chance for Kata’s sake.

This should’ve been pressed upon, not thrown in during their short trek to the temple.  Her words should’ve weighed on his moral compass.  Vengeance, even the thought of it, should’ve slammed over his head like a hammer.

There’s a key conversation between Cal and Cere in the archive.  He asks about her connection to the Force and the dark side, and Cere openly admits she still struggles with it each day, that whenever she feels weak, she thinks of Cal and Trilla and remembers she still has a choice to do better, which gives her strength.

As they close in on the temple to confront Bode, Cal talks to Merrin about his struggle with this “strange” new side to himself ( referring to the moment with Denvik when Cal lost his temper, and Merrin questioned, “Who is this?!” ), his anger towards Bode, Cere’s words of warning—like they both somehow don’t know what the fuck the dark side of the Force looks like.

Merrin responds with, “Cere won her battle with the dark side.”  Like straight up says that verbatim; I looked it up.  Cere did not overcome her darkness, and that was explicitly told to Cal / the player.

Either Merrin made some wild-ass assumptions about her late friend or isn’t aware of how the dark side can affect a Jedi.  And she doesn’t, by the way—not completely.  Merrin uses dark magick.  The magick Nightsisters utilize is rooted in darkness.  This is canon Star Wars lore, legends included.  Of course, she would have no idea about the nuances of the Force from the lens of a Jedi.

Maybe worst of all?  The scriptwriters forgot they wrote that bit with Cere.

Merrin’s response isn’t just a bad line—it undermines her role in the conversation and comes off as somewhat manipulative, especially when it follows so closely after her insistence that they must even the score and kill Bode. It almost felt like a strange platitude, like she was trying to reassure him with a “it’s okay, this happened” kind of statement, when, well, it really isn’t.  This shouldn’t be brushed off.  It should be at the forefront of their minds.

A general lack of understanding regarding the Jedi makes the most sense, but it doesn’t make the exchange any better.  Cal was clearly scared.  Why else would he bring it up?  I like Merrin a lot, but it was odd of her to so quickly brush aside his deepest fears with an inaccurate statement about something she likely may not fully grasp.

At the end of the day, I get it.  Really, I do.  Merrin was furious and grief-stricken.  I also completely understand this “avenge the lost” perspective from a Nightsister.  But Cal isn’t a Nightsister.  Cal is a Jedi.

But he’s going to listen to Merrin.  She’s one of the last people he has left.  And at this point, Cal has been drowning in grief and anger for so long that there’s no one left to pull him to shore.  No one is able to understand him as a Jedi.  Realizing this… was sad.

I love Merrin as a character, but I don’t think she’s what Cal needs right now.  Not like this—not in this aspect.  She can say these things and even act on her emotions if she wants.  All of this is super fitting for her character and as a Nightsister, but not for Cal.  The Order may be gone, but that doesn’t change who he is and what he still believes himself to be.

Only a Sith deals in absolutes.  A Sith will never concede.

Jedi are peacekeepers.  They will always seek compromise over conflict.  

The Sith see this as weakness—but that’s the difference.  A Jedi will always choose peace over violence.  Life over death.   Mercy over vengeance.

Then, there’s Cal at the end.

Look, Bode wasn’t innocent.  He wasn’t a good man.  He murdered Cordova in cold blood, stole the compass, and led the Empire straight to Cere’s archive, an act that cost hundreds of lives.

This databank entry in the game: “As they fight through the Lucrehulk, Bode realizes his feelings for Cal are now more than an act, a revelation that is fleetingly joyous, then crushingly frustrating,” is heartbreaking to me.  Bode didn’t want to betray Cal, and he struggled with this decision alone.  There are several more enlightening databank entries, and it’s all so, so tragic.  Yet it changes nothing.

At best, Bode is an anti-villain.  At worst, he’s a heartless traitor.  And yet… I can’t shake the feeling that he deserved more in the end.

I don’t want to sound overly sympathetic towards Bode, and I’m not saying the writers should have spared him.  His death was inevitable.  But the sheer cruelty from everyone—the main protagonists included—left me utterly speechless by the end of the final battle.

You can’t corner a frightened animal and expect it not to bite you.

You can’t say “she will be safe,” “it’s over,” and “lay down your weapon” and think it won’t further alarm an already panic-stricken man.  You can’t take the one thing a man cares about more than anything else in the galaxy—his anchor, his reason for living—and hold it hostage, then act surprised when he snaps in half.

You can’t take a man’s daughter and expect him to believe you won’t use her against him.  Not after Commander Denvik.  Denvik, his former colleague and handler from the Clone Wars, who reduced Bode to an indentured servant.  Who dangled the illusion of safety—with a single condition: become a weapon for the Empire.  Serve the very beast that killed your wife.

You can’t keep using a man’s daughter as a bargaining chip without him becoming hysterical.  Yet Merrin and Cal kept pulling Kata back into the fray.  As though Bode didn’t already know the stakes.  As if he didn’t already understand this might be the day he died.

Bode didn’t want his daughter to see him die.  Yet Merrin kept dragging Kata back into the danger, instead of getting her to safety.  What an unbelievably heartless role to give her.

Aerielle asked me why Merrin would do that, provoke Bode with Kata in a way that only escalated the situation. I reasoned that maybe she was scared to leave Cal for longer than necessary.  Save the kid, then jump back into the fight.  I’ve tried being charitable about this scene, but I have no words for what came next—because Bode did exactly what Merrin and Cal had been doing with Kata throughout the fight: endangering a loved one.  In this case, Merrin.

Cal’s initial shot wasn’t lethal.  Although Bode was down, bleeding out, survival wasn’t off the table.  It’s possible he could’ve made it.  They could’ve talked.  Hell, even locked him away, forced him to face what all he had done.  But Cal took one look at Merrin, recalled all of his fear and pain, and then murdered a man.

Jedi do not seek revenge.  They don’t “avenge” the fallen.  Jedi grieve, trust in the Force—and let go.  They don’t carry anger and pain and let it fester into justification.  That is the path to the Dark Side.  That is the way of the Sith.

This is the most unbecoming behavior I’ve ever seen from Cal, and it’s so sad to see him stumble this far from where he was in Fallen Order.  I can’t believe his moral compass from five years ago is stronger than his current one.

Cal chose poorly in the end.  And he has no one—and I mean no one—to tell him otherwise.  Cere and Cordova are gone.

And yes, I’m well aware he’s deeply traumatized and lacks proper Jedi training to handle these aspects of himself.  Cere tried, but five years was not enough time, and the conditions for his training weren’t exactly ideal.

I’m not saying any of this is easy because it isn’t.  But that doesn’t make it any less painful to watch.  I understand this is part of his journey.  I just wish he hadn’t taken this road.

Because what is pain but a story of mercy?

Then, there’s the final scene.

Cal saying “I almost lost myself” after doing everything a “fallen” person would do ( blind rage, force choke, threaten murder, then actually murdering someone ) is absolutely rich.  Yeah, you fell.  Did you fall completely?  No.  You touched the dark side. Dipped your toe into the chasm and felt its instantaneous pull.

I’m pretty sure if you asked a casual player, they would say Dagan fell.  I mean, Cal himself called Dagan a fallen Jedi.  They’d probably say Bode fell, too, given everything he did.  But Cal did much of the exact same shit they had, sans bleeding his crystal.

Sorry, buddy, but you’re acting just like them, and it appears you don’t even fully realize it!  Because no matter how you hack it, Bode’s death doesn’t fall into the definition of a mercy kill!

How incredibly blinded he is by grief and loss.  He’s straying far from the path, yet he still calls himself a Jedi, even after everything he’s done.  At this point, I don’t believe his concept of a Jedi is the same anymore.  His perception of the Jedi and their ideals have been irrevocably warped by his experiences.

The way I see it, Cal’s decision to murder Bode feels akin to Anakin’s slaughter of the Tuskens.

Completely different scale of violence, I know, but hear me out: the Tuskens took Anakin’s mother, the most important person in his life at the time.  His fear and anxiety built up over months, and no one listened when he tried reaching out.  They turned him away, advised him to deal with his attachments—the supposed root cause of his trepidation and paranoia.  In his eyes, Anakin lost his mother because of their indifference, because they ignored what he knew to be true, so he snapped.

Anakin lost himself; he massacred an entire Tusken village.  Afterward? He was a sobbing, broken mess.  He sought vengeance, gave in to rage, and recognized what he’d done.

Cal murdering Bode?  He justified it.  Didn’t blink twice.  That’s what unsettles me the most.  I can’t tell if this is dogshit writing or if they’re setting him up to become a so-called Gray Jedi or whatever—but even the concept of a Gray Jedi doesn’t fit in this context.  Cal committed an objectively horrible act—and he doesn’t even recognize the cruelty of his own actions.

Falling to the dark side isn’t like stepping off a cliff.  It’s a slow descent.  It’s one step at a time, each one feeling like it’s justifiable until you’re suddenly free-falling into an abyss.

In the final scene, while standing on that cliff, Cal confesses to the Force ( or Cere ) that he’s afraid of what’s ahead.  And you know what?  I believe him.  Five years of hardship didn’t thicken his skin—it thinned it.

BONUS:  also, the writers somehow failed at writing a fucking child.  You wanna tell me this lil baby toddler cried over her mom’s death for years but didn’t shed a single tear for her father?  Must be a psychopath child then ( /j ), because holy shit, you just saw your dad get beat up and murdered in front of you, and you’re chill with it.  Even warmed up to your father’s killers within two seconds.  Okay then.  Very cool.  Nice little creepy pseudo family ya got there.  Fuck that particular part of the game.  That’s just fucking weird, man.

I love this game. I hate this game. I love this game. I hate this game.

[ghostydrawsstuff]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! 🎄

as promised, my gift is my variation of Fen!

so to even begin to understand this goober, you need to know what an Intärrat is: an Intärrat is someone who when they die, they are reborn in another body, and all the past lives become sort of like alters? so slowly you lose sight of who and what you are and if you live too many lives you can go completely insane and animalistic - this led to creatures such as the rake, the seed eater, RED, B.O.B. and even secretly Zalgo (he’s going insane but won’t admit it)

so Fen is an Intärrat - a boy named Ryu was shot dead at 19 as a result of his mother messing about in gangs. Splendor - the oldest brother - found the young boy’s corpse when leading a child home and brought him to the forest to try and help. he called Slender to try and help him, and the two realised they couldn’t save him without turning him into a slenderbeing (which are called Operators in this world) and so they did. during the transformation Splendor left to watch the other children in his care and Slender stood by Fen as he was born. he was scared at first but recognised Slender as his follower since Slender had stalked him in most his past lives. they chose the name Fen - this is in fact ‘Offender’ shortened but not because he’s anything like canon, it’s a reference to his past life where he was raised to be a criminal. it’s also technically a more masc version of Fern. (note - Fen is technically trans because Ryu had long hair and a feminine frame. Slender thought he was a girl and changed Fen accordingly.)

so he grew up being the youngest of 7 siblings, and both a blessing and a curse to the whole family. he argued with them quite frequently, was always pranking and annoying them, always got in fights with other entities, kept up his past life of stealing, vandalising, destroying and killing. he was also clearly mentally unstable - he talked to ‘himself’ a lot, claimed there was a man made of shadows who stalked him, also there was a grey Splendor who spoke to him - he experienced hallucinations, delusions, dissociation and obsession. he HATED anyone who interacted with Slender, was always following him and trying to impress him, he had a bad habit of planting cameras, microphones and trackers around the forest or on Slender. he gave up avoiding it after a while, and let Fen do his thing.

Fen was eventually accepted as a proxy working alongside Tim, Brian, Toby and Kate and he was the hardest worker of them all. he’d take any mission with no complaints and the cameras and microphones around the forest made it a lot easier to catch anyone trying to do anything bad (like find Slender, or attack proxies). this worked in Slender’s favour and he became sloppy with the others. he didn’t have them patrol the forest as often, and started to rely more heavy on Fen’s judgement.

this was - in hindsight - a fucking awful idea. Fen started to lead monsters to the forest just to kill them to get Slender’s approval and praise, and causing more reckless trouble since Slender was less likely to find out. this unfortunately came to a head when the Scarlet King came to find Slender, and instead got met with the younger brother with no self preservation skills and an ego bigger than him. long story short, Fen fucking died. this is when the Intärrat part kicks in, he goes and lives a couple different lives and then comes back as an angel child. he simply goes by the name ‘Angel’, and ends up finding Tim extremely injured after a mission goes poorly. Tim was always the closest proxy to Slender, and had helped the most as he grieved Fen. Slender was extremely grateful for Angel’s help and took him in as a son. he dedicated himself to protecting and raising Angel, refusing to make the same mistakes he did with Fen.

unfortunately for him, Angel was EXACTLY like Fen. reckless and destructive, always getting into fights, had the same episodes and anger issues, same hallucinations, and was extremely possessive, obsessive and jealous over Slender. the only difference was Angel was a very heavy arsonist. Slender considered this the universe spitting on him, because fire was the thing that killed Fen. despite this, he never gave up on Angel. he wasn’t allowed to be a proxy, but he became involved with the collective (his cult from TribeTwelve), and would work on more behind the scenes on a lot of bigger operations. Slender became a bit of a helicopter parent and their relationship became a bit co-dependent.

now - understand the Scarlet King’s involvement with Slender was purely related to Fen and Angel. the ‘man made of shadows’, was Verdi, the Scarlet King’s 7th son - the one that ‘succeeded’. he wanted Verdi purely to take over his role.

Angel was in the foundation for a while (i will explain their involvement in a different ask at a later date) and the Scarlet King breached containment to find Angel. some fucked up experimentation later, and all of Angel’s past lives are separate from him. there was 18 in total - they all went their separate ways but stayed in contact - except Angel and Fen. Fen was nervous, embarrassed, ashamed and afraid. he felt his death was him ‘failing’, and he didn’t want to face Slender. Angel however was having none of that and dragged him back. Slender was overjoyed to have his brother back and after a VERY tearful reunion, they made the agreement that Fen could still serve as a proxy but his work will be a LOT more monitored and any dangerous missions Slender would go with him for.

so my Fen, as it stands, is a proxy for Slender and a full time agent of chaos. he’s also very VERY spoilt. gets what he wants when he wants unless Slender deems it too dangerous (most things are ‘too dangerous’ to him.) Fen still has PTSD from his death but he’s quiet about it. sometimes he still thinks he’s burning, and usually when someone notices they put something cold on his hands or cheek. this actually started from Toby, who seen him getting uneasy and put his axe on Fen’s hand and told him to focus on the cold of the metal. Fen cried at this.

he also has a LOT of dogs. he has four hellhounds called Thorn, Rose, Calyx and Sepal, a german shepherd called Theo (stolen from Clara, who will also be in a future ask) and three shucks called Powder, Bullet, and Jelly :3

Wonderful present! That backstory is literally so cool, I really like the concept of intärrats. Do they keep only the most important memories of their past lives or does he not remember them and only that past life in his head does?

Btw may I know some more of your Zalgo? I'm curious bout that too :3.

But hey Angsty (teen?) Fen time! How wonderful, that has a lot of story potential ngl, but he totally doesn't have stalker vibes or anything- no not at all!

But seriously this was great! I love your version of Fen and Angel is also pretty cool (gotta love fellow fire appreciaters) is he also still with Slender?

And yeah that's a lotta dogs-

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: BENDIS. PART 1. 

READING THINGS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO! 

ALRIGHT EVERYONE IT'S TIME. 

It's 12 issues long. 

When this came out, I thought "This is the worst thing ever." and was so disappointed and angry. I refused to purchase the trade and frowned at it real hard any time it was mentioned. 

If I could go back in time and tell little me that there were far...FAR...worse things ahead I'm not sure I'd have believed me. 

Lucky for me, something spectacular and wondrous and amazing was also ahead. 

But we'll get to that later. 

Moon Knight: (2011) 

publication date: July 2011-June 2012. 

Writer: Brian Michael Bendis

Artist: Alex Maleev 

Editor: Jeff Youngquist 

TIME LINE TIME! 

Let's start off with a little bit of Comic History! 

Moon Knight started in 1975. Moench and Zelenetz took it to 1990. 

We hit the 90s and it was a rough go for our pal. I'll cover the 90s later. 

Moon Knight then faded into obscurity and only the die hard fans that remembered our friend in white clung to every fleeting background appearance or mention. 

He then returned to us in 2006. 

The series of runs from 2006-2009 revived the series into a new glorious age of Marvel comics. The comics were far from perfect, the characterization was often WAY off, but it was better than nothing and a lot of good did come out of that age. 

2009-2010 brought us Vengeance of Moon Knight, which was also pretty good. 

Moon Knight was trucking along. 

It was roughly in this age that I became aware of Moon Knight and started reading the old stuff. 

Then 2011 they announced a new writer taking over Moon Knight. 

I actually went to a convention and remember this announcement. 

Marvel editor and Chief Joe Quesada was heading the panel and was super excited. He professed to love Moon Knight and was super enthused to see him not only be continued, but to also be in the hands of such an esteemed writer as Bendis AND joining a west coast team. (I'll get to that). 

So from 2011-2012 we got...THIS.... 

Moon Knight was then swiftly canceled. 

It was a disaster and did NOT do well on sales or reviews. (gee. Wonder why). 

And in TRUE Marvel fashion, they quietly swept it under the rug. They claimed that interest in Moon Knight had died and they would not continue to write for a comic no one would read. 

He had a few small background parts now and then, and fans continued to ask if they were going to bring him back. 

It wasn't till 2014 under "Marvel Now" (a new age under Marvel) that he was brought back under Ellis. 

Now, a LOT of people hate on Ellis. But they have to understand what Ellis had to work with. Where Ellis was coming from with Moon Knight, and WHY he had to do it so subtly like he did. 

So let me show you WHY my appreciation for Ellis runs so deep. 

You may have noticed something. I called Bendis an "esteemed writer". 

So who is Brian Michael Bendis? 

This is the man that is KNOWN for his work in the Avengers. 

He was the man that relaunched the Avengers franchise in 2000. Marvel was NOT doing well in the late 90s. DC was on the rise and kicking ass. 

I'm not saying this man saved Marvel comics... But he certainly brought the comic fans back in. 

Secret War, House of M, Secret Invasion, Siege, Age of Ultron, Avengers Disassembled...

These are BIG name runs that he wrote storylines for and was in charge of. These are big name events! 

You all know by now I hate events and tie-in cross-overs (There are two notable exceptions, but those are not Moon Knight related), but I have to appreciate them when they actually do make the comics thrive. 

Also, it takes a LOT to keep these events organized. And it takes a good writer to write for large groups like the Avengers. 

This man also created some very well known comic characters. Riri Williams, Jessica Jones, and...MILES MORALES. 

THAT'S RIGHT. This man gave us MILES! 

He's won five Eisner Awards. 

He is GOOD at what he does. He's god at writing teams. He keeps the dialogue smooth and flowing. He keeps track of all the characters. 

But... You'll notice something.... 

All those incredibly big name events and series? They are teams. They are groups. They are big hitters. They are mostly super powered and work well in teams. 

This brings me to a very big point. 

Just because you are good at one thing, does not make you good at all things. 

And that's where Marvel messed up. 

They happily put Moon Knight into the hands of someone who was used to writing for Captain America and Iron Man. 

You all know by now, or you will soon, Moon Knight is a VERY different sort of hero. 

He has no powers. He has no armor. He’s not super smart and he isn’t a leader. He's just a man. A man with severe trauma. A man with a past. Oh...And he's actually Three men in a white cape pretending to be one fully functioning normal guy and failing at it miserably. In fact, he’s been offered to lead teams MANY times and every time he turned it down. He doesn’t play well with others. Every time he meets up with another character, they start with a fight before they calm down and introduce themselves (one exception was Hilariously the Punisher who happily shook his hand and invited him into his chopper). 

So I can’t be angry at Bendis. Bendis even admitted that he didn’t know who Moon Knight was when he was given the comic. He had to do some quick catching up. 

The pressure was on, he didn’t understand the character, and there was a PUSH to introduce Moon Knight to the wider Marvel universe. 

So I can’t 100% fault Bendis for the trash heap he gave us. He certainly isn’t Bemis, who is just an overall terrible person. 

But I CAN fault him for not doing his research and not treating the major themes that tend to historically follow Moon Knight with respect. The biggest one being: Mental Health. 

So if Aaron was a disaster of religious failure, Bemis was a disaster of hate crimes and racism, then Bendis is a disaster of the mind. 

Without further rambling, let’s get into it!! 

Issue #1 (same image as up top). 

Title page as the standard blurb on who the character is. 

"Left to die outside an Egyptian temple, mentally unstable mercenary Marc Spector believes himself to have been resurrected by the ancient deity Khonshu to be his supernatural avatar on Earth. When night falls, Spector dons the mantle of Khonshu and fights the darkness as Moon KNight." 

Not a great start people. 'dons the mantle of Khonshu'. This is literally all Bendis knew about Moon Knight going in. If this is the only description you have to go on, you are not going to have a good time. 

We open with a very Kirk Russel looking version of Marc Spector out in the desert with a dramatic retelling of his fight with Bushman. 

What's interesting is that Bushman calls him "Lockley". 

They have their shoot out, Marc is shot and Bushman leaves him saying "You were the best there ever was." 

Doing his usual, Marc crawls through the desert to the Moon Temple. 

He goes to the body of the dead Professor (Marlene's father) and wishes to make it up to him despite dying. He then goes to the Khonshu statue and begs before dying. 

Marlene sobs over him, calling him "Jake". 

The scene ends and it's to be continued. 

Fade to black. Executive Producer Marc Spector. 

Yeah... Marc went to Hollywood and made a show about Moon Knight. 

You see, up to this point, no one realy knew what Steven was doing to make them money. In the 80s he gave to charities, set up entertainment things like Ballet and museums and things, and played the stocks a bit. 

Later he became a producer. 

Then, when the writers all decided they didn't want to write Steven anymore because he was 'boring' he turned into Marc and Marc headed the financial aspect of things and became the producer of the shows. 

So here we see Marc making the show about himself and using the name Lockley so no one knows it's about him. 

He...He's trying. 

So the name of the show is "Legend of the Khonshu". 

This is the pilot episode and they are at a launch party. 

We see Marc hanging with a pretty blond that is NOT Marlene. At this point she’s left him. 

"Is it true that you were a really for real mercenary?"

"Well, let's just say... I have learned I'm not the first person in the world to transition their career into Hollywood after a...Less than honorable start." 

He gets a call and the person asks if he can go outside. 

This is odd. And it should have been my first clue something was wrong. 

But we'll get there. 

We've got Captain America, Spider-man, and Wolverine asking for Moon Knight. 

And while Moon Knight has been an Avenger off and on and off and on at this point, he also has never been well trusted or liked by the big guys like Cap and Iron man. 

Cap tells him that "SHIELD's still tryig to gather formal intel, but there's been a rather substantial migration of criminal activity from the East coast to here. Right here in your new backyard. We need you to go to work." 

(this was the reason for the West Coast Avengers, but that's a different run). 

"Substatial Migration of criminal activity?" 

"Maybe if you weren't so busy making crap TV--" Wolverine gets uppity. 

"Have you seen the show, Wolverine? It's actually pretty good." 

"Yeah, that's what I got time for, watching you sell your soul entirely." 

"Good news, though, I'm getting paid a fortune for it." 

Cap breaks up the banter and Marc asks for details. 

Spider-Man explains that too many super heros lived on the east coast and too many villains were trying to be the kingpin of New York. So now they figure they can go to L.A. 

"But now we have you here." "Me?" "You made L.A. your territory." "By living here?" 

This has always been an issue. Ever since it became known that Moon Knight had mental issues, all the Avengers have always treated him like “the crazy one”. Especially since he’s the ONLY superhero that is publicly open about his mental health issues. 

He’s even come out to the Avengers as having D.I.D and introduced Jake and Steven to them (see Spider-man encounters that was mostly used for LOLs). What’s interesting is seeing which heroes react in what ways. 

I could do a whole breakdown on the response of each Avenger to those with mental health issues. From Captain America’s don’t ask don’t tell attitude that stems from being brought up in the 30s-40s to Punisher who takes it in stride and doesn’t care. 

So they came all the way out to LA from NY to put him to work. Brings to mind the old meme: This could have been an email.

Cap reminds him that he's an Avender now and part of a team. "If things get to be too much...You send for us. Give the call. We're here for you. That's what being an Avender means. You're not alone." 

Problems with that: 1. The Avengers are in NY. He's in LA. That's a few hours away even by Helicarrier. 2. To quote Sassy Steven Grant from MCU "Yeah that's sort of like the problem, innit?" 

But ignore that. Look at this ART. 

We head over to a warf where two criminal looking thugs are waiting by a van. 

They're having some friendly banter about their job and their boss. 

"Ask yourself this: This job you have--Who do you think had it before you? Where is that person now? Exactly how dead are they? And which one of the, I don't know, X-Men do you think maybe killed them?" 

"I see your point. I just don't agree with it. I want to do the job we were hired to do and then I want to go home." 

I do love some good hench men banter. 

While they banter, Moon Knight sneaks around up top to watch as a ship comes in. 

A very large man gets off the ship and demands to know which one of them has "Mr. Hyde's Money?" 

They don't have money. They were just ordered to pick up what's on the boat. The man demands money for the thing on the boat. 

He threatens to crush them to death, they threaten to shoot him. 

The giant man lifts them up and smashes their heads together. 

Alright, time for Moon Knight to swing into action. He first gets his attention with a crescent dart that cuts his cheek. 

Just gonna put this right here….

Our buddy Moony has fought many giant strong men before. He's good at holding his own but he's also REAL good at getting utterly annihilated. 

He gets in a few good hits but then gets thrown in the harbor. 

Then a truck is chucked at him. 

His cape gets caught on the front wheels and the truck drags him down into the harbor. (He ends up in the water so much)

One of the thugs from earlier is still alive and he chooses this time to shoot the giant in the arm. 

Unfortunately this upsets the giant who comes over and crushes his skull. 

Disturbing. But the it's done well with the art style. You see him place his boot then a black frame that says "CRUNCH". This is how you censor but imply the violence. Unlike in Bemis' run that just shows you all the gore in the worst way. 

It's amazing how much better I can look at this in comparison. 

But an aside: I enjoyed this run until it got to a VERY specific point. We'll get there together, friends. Until we get to that point, we're going to enjoy the art and have fun with our buddy Moony. 

Big guy gets ack on the boat and starts to drive away. Suddenly he's whacked in the head by a fire extinguisher. 

We see a cloakless/hoodless/maskless Moon Knight wailing on him. 

Marc heads down into the cabin thing while the giant is dstunned. He wants to know what the cargo is. 

Ohhh hey.... Okay. 

So… There are some of you reading this that know exactly what that is. And there are a LOT of you that don’t know other comics or movies and have no idea what that is. 

That’s an Ultron. Tony Stark did Tony Stark things and created a super power AI system called Ultron. And in classic AI comic book fashion, it immediately took over EVERYTHING and set out to destroy the world. They eventually defeated it, but it keeps popping up. You’ll find hidden saved files in old computers, SHIELD helicarriers often find ultron files in their systems. Sometimes you find one of the mass produced robots that still carry the potential to boot up and spread the virus around again. 

Marc picks up the Ultron skull, wondering why they have a dead Ultron. 

It's at this point that he realizes he just knocked out the only one on the boat that was driving. 

He's doing fine. 

He gets knocked off the boat again and clings to a rope hanging off it. At this point the boat is illuminated by something from above. 

Giant man wakes up and yells at the sky about "you better have my money!!" 

"You should have thought about that before you killed my employees." 

The boat blows up and Marc manages to swim away with the Ultron head. 

Back at his place, he calls the Avengers to give them an update. 

Again, I want to remind everyone that the Avengers are based out of New York and Marc is in LA. Are they going to fly out there to look at an Ultron head? It's a 5 and a half hour non stop flight on a regular airline. 

So...This is another clue that something is wrong here. 

They debate on why someone wants an Ultron head. 

It IS made out of adamantium alloy, which is very valuable. 

I also want to say that I love how they draw Marc here. 

So Marc, Captain America, Spider-Man, and Wolverine stand around staring at the Ultron head for a minute. 

"You got a good look at the mystery power?" 

"Nope. Not from lack of trying, though." 

"Hey, Man, you went toe-to-toe with Mr. Hyde." 

"Barely." 

"That's pretty impressive, my friend." 

"I think I broke a rib." 

In trying to figure out who the new power player is, he decides that they at least have one up. 

"Which means he's looking for me like we're looking for him. I'm glad you guys are here. We have our work cut out for us. This is going to take more than just Moon Knight." 

This is heart breaking to hear once you actually know where this run is going. And he isn't alone. Where are Jake and Steven? Why are they banished? 

I know that Jake doesn't travel. Jake never leaves New York. I've never really explored why that is. But in Moench's OG run, Jake NEVER left New York. 

And writers always leave Steven out. No one since Moench has been able to handle him to this point. 

So here we are, Marc Spector making home in a new place and Jake and Steven aren’t there. Then the Avengers show up randomly and tell him to start being Moon Knight again and that he is needed. 

And then we are left with this image, which is our biggest reveal that maybe… Maybe something isn’t right here… 

So what do we know in the first issue? We can’t trust Marc’s perception of things. 

We also have yet to actually address Marc’s D.I.D. They’ve only casually mentioned him being ‘mentally disturbed’. He’s built up what looks like a nice comfortable life for himself in LA and here the Avengers come in (supposedly) and put him back into position to ruin this life. 

We know Marlene left him. And his head-mates are being pretty quiet. We can only speculate that we are meant to believe that the ‘Avengers’ are only in his head. 

There’s more going on here than Ultron. And in issue one, I’m optimistic. I love the art, Moon Knight is being Moon Knight. But you do get the sense that something is brewing and all you can do is hope that it’s not bad. We have no REASON to think it will be bad at this point. We’ve not had an atrociously bad run yet. We’ve only had mismanagement. 

Issue #2. 

DAMN fine art, Maleev. Look at the white! The face is a little creepy, but look at that cape! 

Title page has the usual blurb and a recap. 

"Marc Spector has resurfaced in Los Angeles as the creator and producer of the wildly successful TV show 'Legends of the Khonshu'. As Moon Knight, he intercepts an illegal delivery of an Ultron robot body. The mastermind behind it is unknown, but the battle is fierce and Moon Knight barely escapes. 

Guiding him through this new mystery, Moon Knight is supported by his new multiple Personalities in the guises of Spider-man, Wolverine and Captain America." 

YEP. There it is everyone! 

2011. WAY past the point of DSM defining things and research absolutely could have been done. 

But it wasn't done. They had zero interest in informing or teaching the audience about mental health. All they wanted was a gimik to lure you in and say "Look how crazy he is!" And now he's got "NEW" personalities that are also well known super heros! 

*SIGH* Issue one was so hopeful. They could have gone so many other routes. 

As I mentioned above, Marc has set himself up to be alone. When has Marc Spector ever done well when left alone to his own devises? 

Marc has set himself up for massive failure and is on his way for another break down. 

But they could have left him alone. Shown him being alone. Shown him struggling alone. They could have then re-introduced Steven and Jake and well....LEMIRE. 

Anyways, let's see what happens in issue 2. 

We open with Moon Knight, Spider-man, Wolverine, and Captain America overlooking the city.

I love when they get carried away with his cape. It’s like his cape is an entity of itself. Look at that majesty. 

Marc has intel and they are deciding on who gets to go investigate. 'Wolverine' decides to go in. 

Marc tells him no. "This is my city now. That's the whole point. I'll go." 

"I think you should go in undercover first. Stake it out. Lock your target" -Captain America. 

"You WOULD think that. I say dive in and tear the place up. That's the only language they understand. It's the only language they respect." - Wolverine. 

Cap just wants to shut down the operation. 

"A grenade can shut that place down. We're aiming higher. We're aiming for the person who thinks this city is up for grabs and thinks they need an ultron." 

'Spider-man' volunteers. No one would expect him. 

Moon Knight notes that "It's not like I can stop him." 

We head to a sort of strip club sort of thing. The manager woman is in charge of info. A lot of powerful men come to her club/bar and these men often let slip information to the girls that help them 'relax.' She pays the girls for collected information. 

She finishes her little speech and Spider-man interrupts. 

"Did I miss the audition? I have a dream, you know. A dream to dance!" 

"Get out of here or I'll kill you." 

"I'm sorry, I don't care for the way you're speaking to me--I'd like to speak to the manager." 

So they way they have it, the “Spider-Man personality” is in charge and the others watch and let him act. He has the mouthiness of the REAL spider-man, but he also lacks the strength and acrobatics. This puts him at a disadvantage, as he’s expected to do the same things, but can’t. This honestly is going to go for Wolverine and Captain America too. Three people that distinctly have super powers and skills that Moon Knight and MARC do not have! 

An interesting solution is that Spider-man uses web shooters. 

And THIS 'Spider-man has hidden Moon Knight's truncheons in the shooters so they get hit by the web and also whacked pretty hard too. 

What is so frustrating is that I'd just rather watch Moon Knight fight the bad guys and not 'fake spider-man'. 

And the boss lady gets hit by the web shooters with the hidden truncheons inside. She instantly knows "That's not Spider-man." 

She starts to fight back, asking who he is. 

"Who are you?" 

"Who am I? I? Me? People have heard of me! The big question today is how far down the criminal food chain are you?" 

She starts to kick his ass. 

She puts him in a choke hold demanding to know who he is and who sent him. 

Marc and Wolverine start to argue inside the head space. Wolverine wants to step in but Moon Knight wants to give Spider-man a chance. 

The mask is ripped off and they start to black out. Wolverine steps in. 

The webshoots extend out the retractable claws. 

Just as he gets the upper hand, one of the stripper girls tasers him, knocking him down. 

He fights through it. The taser doesn't really affect him. 

He webs her and the main boss lady picks up the fight. 

Captain America is not impressed with the fight. "You're not learning anything and you've made your point. Wrap it up." 

Just as he starts to get the upper hand, one of the bounces shoots them in the shoulder. 

He doesn't heal like Wolverine would. 

He blacks out. 

See, my issue is that the writing team doesn’t know anything about Moon Knight. In fact, they know so little that they think he’s boring. So they bring in familiar characters in an effort to ‘make him interesting’. But Moon Knight is NOT those characters. So you end up with a cluster of a whole bunch of mischaracterization on BOTH sides. You got Wrong Moon Knight and you got Wrong Spider-man. 

Boss lady tells the other girls to go home and not to talk about anything that just happened. 

She says that their BOSS will want to talk to this guy and find out who he is. 

They go to move Marc and suddenly one of the stripper girls attacks. 

She knocks out the bouncer then knocks out the boss lady. 

Marc wakes up much later, patched up in a bed. 

Mystery lady tells him "You ruined my cover, Moon Knight." 

She tells him that they have mutual friends like Steve Rogers and Matt Murdock. 

Her name? Maya Lopez. Hey! It's Echo! 

"I was an Avenger for all of 44 seconds." 

I...I've never read anything with Echo. I actually have a comic of her team up with Dare Devil waiting in my stack of comics to read. 

She was supposed to get her own MCU show on Disney Plus. 

I also know that when Greer met up with Marc in the MacKay run, Echo was the one that warned her about what it was like to be with Marc Spector. 

I ALSO know that they call her Echo because she's deaf. 

That is the extent of what I know about Echo. 

Let's learn together! 

She tells Marc to look at her when he talks. He figures out it's because she's reading lips.

"You're deaf?" 

"I know what's wrong with me. What exactly is wrong with you?" She asks as she holds up the Spider-man mask. 

Back with boss lady, we see her talking to her own boss. 

She explains that she once fought the Black Widow and Captain America. 

"This guy--This guy tonight knows how to fight. I know when someone has been trained. This guy--" 

They talk about how they looked up Spiderman and found him still in New York. They also figured out that the one they were fighting was "Moon Knight dressed as Spider-man." 

"And acting like a crazy animal." 

"Moon Knight." 

"Or a crazy guy who thinks he's both. In this world...Never underestimate a good crazy." 

The big mystery boss knows Moon Knight. He's faced him rescently apparently. 

"He has something of mine and I need it back."

He approves her to hire a team and hunt Moon Knight down. 

END ISSUE. 

Ya'll...There's so much going on here. My mantra? "At least it isn't BEMIS.'' That's not a good plug. 'Better than Bemis'. That bar is so low that it's buried six feet under. 

Also the introduction of Echo is going to get messy. She’s there to be the ‘voice of reason’ to his ‘insanity’, but she’s also there to potentially be a love interest. 

Lemme do a little google search real quick. 

Okay... She's Native American of the Cheyenne nation. Created in 1999. She first appeared as Ronin in 2005 by Brian Michael Bendis. (That explains why she's in this). 

After Kingpin killed her father, he adopted her. Fisk pitted her against Daredevil. She also had a relationship with Matt Murdock cause of course she did. (Everyone has slept with Murdock. EVERYONE.) 

Her abilities are photographic reflexes, much like that of Taskmaster. Meaning she can learn people's fighting styles. 

Okay. She's interesting. 

Makes me sad that she’s just going to be used in this comic to give the reader a point of stability and also a love interest. 

Issue #3. 

I like the soft colors in the art. And at first glance you get excited because “Bullseye!” And I love a good Bullseye run. But then you notice that jaw line looks very familiar and also he’s holding a familiar looking crescent and you realize what’s about to happen and you’re just disappointed again….. 

ALRIGHT. We open on Marc driving a car and making a call to Maya (Echo). 

"Hi Maya...This is Marc Spector." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"From last night." 

"What do you want?" 

"You believe it's me...Cool." 

He spoke to their 'mutual' friends who vouched for her. (I bet Murdock vouched for her). 

"If you're not still mad at me for blowing your cover and maybe ruining your life, I thought mabe we could get together and discuss, um, strategy." 

Sure. Sure Marc... Strategy. 

He invites her to eat. She turns him down. 

"I think you might be insane, and I have had enough insane men in my life to last me." 

[....]

"I think you're thinking that last night was indicative of my overall behavior and personality." 

"It wasn't?" 

"It probably was, but I don't think that--" 

"I'm hanging up." 

"I need help, Maya. And you do too." 

We have some serious discrimination going on. The constant use of outdated language to lesson Marc's credibility and constant second guessing him. 

Marc gets to the studio to find his assistant there waiting with a list of issues. 

The usual studio stuff. 

Props have issues, there's calls, and "they still haven't cast the French Guy." 

"Not French." 

"I thought--"

"He doesn't HAVE to be French. I said he was based on a French person." 

(Does this mean that I cacn still dream of Pedro Pascal as Frenchie?) 

Anyways... He heads in to a tech person named Buck. 

Marc hands him the Ultron head. He asks him to take a peak at it and let him know if it's legit. 

We head back to three months ago when Marc was setting up the show and casting people. 

Marc had asked for a list of "soldier of fortune consultants". 

Marc starts to look through the files. 

Honestly, considering his past and connections, he probably knows most of the old timers personally. 

He finds one that makes him pause and he tells his assistant that he wants an interview. 

Turns out Buck was that guy. 

Marc asks Buck how long he's been an Agent of SHIELD. 

He recognized the name of a company that Buck listed as work history on his resume. 

A company owned by SHIELD and stationed in Latveria (Home of Dr. Doom). 

Buck denies it. It's all classified, after all. 

Marc tells Buck that "I need a guy who knows weapons and armory. I need a guy who thinks outside the box and knows not to ask questions. I need someone I can trust with my life." 

Of course Buck is cagey. Wants to know how Marc got access to the files and what not. 

"Do you know your super heroes?" 

"Uh...Sure." 

Marc tells him. We don't hear what he says. 

"I...I, uh... Never heard of you." 

"Are you serious?" 

"Just messing with you." 

Yeah, there was a long time when NO ONE knew who Moon Knight was. Somehow all the bad guys and street people knew him, but NONE of the heros knew him. Just called him "that crazy moon guy." 

Marc hires the man as his 'weapons expert' for the show. He also asks the man to work on making special tools and weapons for his 'special needs'. 

Here’s Buck at home relaxing. 

Oh hey! Bullseye! 

So we see "Bullseye" threaten to torture and cut up Buck if he doesn't tell him who Marc Spector is. 

Buck refuses to talk. 

Bullseye threatens him again and Buck figures it out. "Mister Spector? Is that---Are you--?" 

Firstly, where did Marc even get that outfit? And the spike dagger. Bullseye got the spike daggers when he killed Electra (Daredevil comics my old beloved dumpster fire that you were). 

Marc apologizes and Buck punches him. He beats on him a moment, pretty pissed off. 

"You know I could disarm you and end this in a second, right?" 

"You never touch me!" 

"Come on. Compared to what they did when you joined SHIELD this was nothing." 

"I don't care if you think I--"

"You know I had to." 

[....] 

"Man, how crazy are you?" 

There it is again. And having Marc dress up and mimic Bullseye's manners and expressions is an interesting choice when we already know that he's dealing with being Spider-man, Wolverine, and Captain America too. He's plaing with fire and I can see where Bendis is going to take this and I don't like it. 

And this brings us to the present with Buck analyzing the Ultron head. 

Turns out to be a real Ultron head. 

"The head of the most powerful artificial intelligence known to man cut off from its regenerating power source--" 

Buck asks if they should take it to Tony Stark. 

Marc doesn't like Tony Stark. This is fair. Tony has never exactly been fair to Marc. 

Apparently Hank Pym also had a hand in creating Ultron. That hangs together. (I am not a fan of comics hank pym. He's not a good person). 

Marc tells Buck he's going to give it to Steve Rogers when they are done with it. 

Buck keeps telling him to get rid of it. WHoever the LA kingpin is, he's going to come looking for it either for parts, the dangerous tech, or to plug it back in and sick it on the world again. 

Marc keeps brushing him off. 

"Meaning that you should get rid of it immediately...Was my point...That you completely missed. Because you're crazy." 

So we head back to boss lady, AKA "Snapdragon". She's talking to a group of assassins for hire. A group called "Night Shift". 

Her boss wants to have a chat with Moon Knight and she wants to know who he is. 

END ISSUE. 

Yeah, you guys can see the growing motif of this run, can’t you? “Wow look how crazy he is!” And it’s going to get worse. 

If Aaron was a problem because of the lack of religious sensitivity and research, then Bendis is a problem because of how he handles the topic of Mental Health. (Bemis was just a problem. Every problem forever. Too many to name.) 

So let’s head into Issue #4. 

Maleev did all his own covers for the runs. Not a common thing to do. I just love how all the covers have such striking colors and how the cape and cowl are always just so BRIGHT white. It’s pretty, okay? 

Alright, we open up on Avengers Mansion somewhere in New York. Carol Daners answers the phone (Captain Marvel). 

Maya Lopez (Echo) is calling them. 

She's doing a check in to find out what the Avengers think of Moon Knight. 

Which, fine. If you're going to work with a guy or potentially be interested in them, you check in with your friends that know them. 

But ALSO...The Avengers have always been very discriminatory against Moon Knight. 

They don't trust him because they think he's dangerous because they think he's insane. 

They don't ever make ANY effort to understand what his illness/problems are. They never look into his disorder. They never look into Marc's PTSD. They never take the time to talk him through things. 

Much like they never really accept or try to deal with the Punisher's PTSD. He's always just an evil murdering man. 

Maybe this is why Marc and Frank have always gotten along. 

Spiderman sometimes is kind to him and works with him, but there is always the background joke about Moon Knight being "Loony". 

The only one that really gets on with Moon Knight is Ben "The Thing" from FF4. And that's because they're both Jewish and Ben needs more Jewish friends. 

ANYWAYS. She asks about Moon Knight. 

"I'm asking--How crazy is he on a scale of one to...crazy?"

Oh! This brings me to the well known panel that you should all recognize!!!! 

Now you have the context for that panel! 

Speaking of discrimination...

Echo calls people all the time. And each time, the person on the other side will go "Wait, how are you using the phone if you're deaf?" 

She has a speech to text function that puts their words on her computer screen. 

But no one thinks of things that are meant to help those with hearing disabilities. They instantly just think "She's deaf. She can't use the phone! She must not be deaf!" 

Ahhh...Avengers... 

Back in LA, we find MArc waiting at a hot dog stand where he invited Echo, waiting to see if she'll even show up. 

He sits there with 'Captain America', 'Spider-man', and 'Wolverine'. 

Wolverine tells him that Marc doesn't need her. 

Spider-man thinks it's just a team-up. 

"This ain't about a team-up. You know it and he knows it." 

"Why can't it be both?" 

"Because it just complicates it all." 

"Why can't he have a nice girl?" 

"Because the damn moon god Khonshu told him he brought him back from the dead so he'd make the world more livable.

Not make crap TV shows and date third-string Avengers." 

"Why can't he do ALL those things?" 

(I'm a spider-man fan and I love when he is the young innocent one that just wants people to be happy. And considering that THIS is not the real Spider-man, but just Marc's perspective of Spider-man, it makes sense that Spider-man be seen as the one that doesn't understand and just wants to do his best and make people happy. See, THAT is an interesting take and psychological analysis. But Bendis isn't aiming for that or going to explore it... Damn it.) 

Captain America reminds them that Echo knows more about what's going on than they do and they need her info. 

"The woman's been under-cover in the LA underworld. She knows more than us. We need her." 

And Maya shows up. 

"I must be out of my mind." 

"Oh, come on..." 

"Out of my mind." 

So he asks her what she knows and how long she's been undercover. 

She tells him to go first. 

"Listen, if you're here, you checked on me like I checked on you. You know I'm not the idiot you're acting like you want me to think you think I am." 

"What?" 

"Let's just cut the sass down and have a real conversation. Wouldn't that be nice, if two people who do what we do had a real conversation?" 

"It's hard...It's hard to trust...sometimes..." 

"I know. Believe me, I know." 

They talk a bit about Marc's show and her position in the strp club. 

As they talk, a sharp dressed man shows up and comments on what a cute cupple they make. 

"What a cute couple." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I SAID you're a cute couple. What are you, deaf? Oh yeah, you are, aren't you...Eco." 

She asks if Marc knows who this man is. 

"You see him too?" Nice Marc. Subtle. 

The man introduces himself as "Tick Tock." He's a member of the Night Shift. 

One of the guys has a pretty cool design. Reminds me of the Classic old old comic/radio show "The Shadow". 

The lady's design is....Why is there always a naked lady with tape barely covering up all of her bits? How is that efficient?

Tick Tock claims to be able to see the immediate future. 

He sais that in one future they fight and it doesn't end well for anyone. 

Marc and Maya don't have powers, but the Night Shift members do. 

'Wolverine' decides he isn't putting up with this shit. The flake claws come out and they elect to fight. 

The Moon Knight cape comes out and he and Echo start to fight back.

It's a pretty good fight. Echo saves his tail a few times and he takes the hits easily. 

The Wolverine claws come out a few times and make a mess. 

They take out the baddies but the cops are on the way. Cops usually don’t like Vigilantes and this is LA, where they aren’t used to the New York crew. 

And….The only cop that ever liked Moon Knight was Detective Flint. 

END ISSUE. WOO! Blazing through! 

What gets me is that this HAD the potential to be interesting. It could have been an interesting run! Why did he have to make up the Avengers? Why not just embrace Moon Knight and let him be himself? He’s interesting enough without made up Avengers! 

What’s more, you only got three of them in. And the three of them are only bits of themselves based on what Marc knows of them! 

So you have the angry and eager to fight Wolverine, who could have just been Marc. You have the up tight analytical and reasonable Captain America, who could have been Steven! Then you have the heart who is gentle and wants to give people a chance but is still tough Spider-man….JAKE! 

This run could have been FAR better if it wasn’t the Avengers, but Moon Knight wrestling with himself. Having all three of them trying to suddenly make sense of what it means to work together and coming up with their own fighting styles. 

…..HERE’S ISSUE #5. 

I actually don’t like this cover. The colors are nice. The art still is on point. But I just really don’t like this cover.

So the cops show up and instantly go "WE GOT MOON KNIGHT!" 

Yeah... Most of the cops don't know 'what a Moon Knight' is. 

The internal conversation is Spider-man wants them to run. Captain America tells them that they are an Avenger and should explain things to them. 

"Officers, I am here to cooperate. I will be more than happy to tell you exactly what just happened. I am actually, believe it or not, one of the good guys, if you'll just let me--" 

He does try to calmly explain to the officers what's going on, but they start to get rough and push him around.  What gets me is that Moon Knight IS trying to be reasonable. He tries to talk calmly. To explain things. He tries to be peaceful. 

It never goes well for him. No one listens to him. No one lets him explain. They assume the worse of him. 

Now Wolverine is pissed and wants to get involved. 

Cap and Wolverine start yelling at one another and Moon Knight is not having a good trip. 

One of the cops says he's going to sell the pictures of Moon Knight getting arrested for tons. 

Wolverine wins the argument and Moon Knight starts to fight and breaks free. 

The cops attempt to bring Echo in and she puts up a little fight then gets tazed. 

Yeah so we get lots of scenes of them yelling at Marc. 

They yell at him for leaving Echo behind. But Echo fights the police off and steals one of the cop cars. 

Moon Knight follows and joins up. 

I can’t fault the comic for the action sequences. They do have a good balance. (Unlike in Bemis where everyone is either just standing there grinning like idiots or it’s chaos and you can’t tell what’s going on except that there is gore). 

The banter and conversations are also well managed. Coming from the Bemis run, where every other panel was just a WALL of exposition that made no sense, I appreciate the balance of conversation, action, and stillness. So, points to Bendis and Maleev on this one. 

They park the car and have a small argument. 

She blames him for bringing 'madness' into her life. 

He points out that the Night Shift was actually looking for HER and that they were tracking her, so it's her fault for the madness. 

She agrees. "So that makes us even." 

She can't go home. The police and bad guys know who she is now. 

He tells her to come to his home. Smooth. 

They have a moment and he kisses her. 

She punches him in the face. 

A lot. 

I won't make you squint. 

"Hey! Listen I just thought..." 

Gets beat up. 

"Will you marry me? 

Look at me...Brave guy making jokes to a deaf girl behind her back." 

Alright we head back to Buck. He's at a club. He gets a phone call and heads out. 

He's gotta go pick up Marc, who is sadly walking home in his Moon Knight skivvies. 

"Hi, Buck." 

"Mister Spector." 

"Thanks for coming to get me." 

"What are you doing in an alley?" 

"I didn't start in the alley." 

"Who used to do this before me?" 

"A guy." 

"Where is he?" 

"He got sick of me." 

"Is he alive?" 

"I think so. I hope so." 

Frenchie will forever be a sad place in my heart. I miss him and I hope he is alive and well. 

We head to the police station where Tik Tok of the Night Shift is being interrogated. He's being interviewed by a former New York cop. He didn't like the Supervillain and Superhero business so he went to LA to get away from it. 

As you can imagine, all this recent comotion doesn't have him very happy. 

He wants to make sure the whole lot of the Night Shift stays behind bars forever. 

But he gives him one opportunity to give up some info and walk out. 

"Who hired you? Who sent you after Moon Knight? You give me a name... You walk out of here." 

Tik Tok thinks it over. 

"You don't, and I will laugh the day I hear that the punisher finds his way into the prison you're rotting in. Just say the name."

Tik Tok starts to talk when suddenly a lawyer comes in and tells Tik Tok that he's being sprung. 

The lawyer tells him that they can't hold any of the Night Shift because the police let them be beaten by 'drug addict maniacs'. 

Tik Tok walks out and the police guy is pissed. 

"I hope you know what you're doing, Moon Knight. Because it's all on you." 

END ISSUE. 

So… You see my frustration setting in here? This comic run has SO much potential. There is so much more they could be doing and instead they are taking the “HE’S SO CRAZY” route. The art is good. The pacing is good. The Dialogue is pretty evenly placed. Even the overarching plot of the LA kingpin and Ultron head is not bad. It’s just… Why did it have to be Moon Knight? 

When you can replace the main character with any other marvel character and still have it be the same, this isn’t a Moon Knight issue. And when the writer is so used to writing for other characters that they end up making it about those other characters, they shouldn’t be given the Moon Knight comic and should just stick with what they are good at! 

….At least it isn’t Bemis… 

Alright. Part two is coming soon! I’m going to start kicking these out fast. I got a timeline to get through if I’m going to hit all my marks by the new year! Stay with me people! We got this! 

PART TWO HERE.

[winderlylandchime]

At this point you are all in this with me and i am officially making this man everyone’s problem. He came into my home office while i was on zoom and asked for a pen and paper only to later find out that he made one of those mind maps. It’s about Britin and there’s bunch of arrows about what all he thinks could happen in the future seasons, to how Britin is connected and there’s a section for Ethan and everything. He then gave me a 10 minute presentation while I took a break. It made zero sense but he swears it does. I wish I could send you all a picture of it cause one arrow that leads out of the middle (which he named ‘beautiful bastards’) is just called ‘what the actual fuck is going on’ and under it, it says ‘idk bro, we need more context.’

The summery of his presentation that was interrupted by his alarm for pills and him going ‘for fucks sake i cant have a minute with my thoughts anymore!’ (I fear he has had too many minutes with his thoughts) was basically: Britin is connected, he doesnt know how BUT(!) they are stuck together forever even if it all goes to hell. Which he says won’t happen bc their connection is too big and no type of idiot would ever fuck this up. (Can you tell how hard it’s to keep a poker face?) Justin is linked to Brian and Ethan and also for some reason Ted(?) he has yet to make sense of that one but he swore that once he makes sense of it, it’s gonna blow my mind. Ted and brian are also linked with dotted line and he said and i quote ‘it has some weird potential cause i like how he calls him Bri like me’ only other person linked is Daphne (she is also dotted linked to Brian bc he likes them together and thinks they could be besties IF daph doesn’t disappoint him with Ethan. He thinks she will help Brian win Justin back) now here are his theories of what could happen: -he thinks that to get back together they should be put in a situation where Justin has to pretend to be Brian and Brian would be Justin (he watched an ep of White Collar where they did something similar so he got inspired but in his words he ‘made it gay’) the gay part is: role reverse sugar daddy/Justin would be forced to spend Brians money on Brian (this made me laugh bc of you) and somehow that would lead to them fucking -justin hits michael bc he still kinda hates him and he needs it to happen BUT he wants mikey to hit Justin back for Brian (since he can’t do it) which leads to Britin making up -justin breaks up with ethan bc of his ugly facial hair -justin and brian cheat together on ethan, he hates cheating but is willing to look the other way for them -brian hits ethan bc he hates his smug face and he wants Brian to hit someone -brian wins back justin and i quote ‘bri and i have yet to decide if we are okay with this one tho cause Bri is more than a consolation prize’ And for the Ethan points: there are only 4 thing’s written under his name: -i hate him, -he has a dumb goatee that makes no sense, like how does he shave that?(this was an entire 5 min long rant), -he’s not even good at playing that fucking ukulele -i hate how he talks when he says french stuff

My new favorite bit of his is the refusal to acknowledge that Ethan plays violin. Yesterday he told our mom that he plays the triangle. And i feel like it’s only right for you to know that: 1)he taped this paper on the wall next to the tv (it is an empty wall and then just a random piece of paper in the middle of it and that is all..) and 2) he did ALL this before 9 am.

I was going to send you this after we’d get back from the doctor later today but I am literally writing this while “working” cause he came back in the room to get more markers without saying a word and i am just hoping i don’t find any more papers taped on my wall when I get out of this meeting.

We welcome this man as all our problem. He’s got people going back and rewatching Ethan scenes to see if his theory that Justin’s artwork was an image of Britin. We are all in this together.

He’s gone full conspiracy theory. Too many minutes with his thoughts is right. I’m dying.

But also his theories are not entirely wrong - Randy and Scott have said they thought Justin and Ted would get along. And of course we know that Brian hires Ted for Kinnetik and they become bros. And Daphne is Britin’s biggest shipper. She DOES help them get back together. And there is hitting with Michael involved over Justin. And there is cheating involved in Justin and Ethan breaking up. He is not wrong, anon, is the point.

Cracking up about the reverse sugar daddy situation.

Dyinggg over refusing to say he plays the violin. Kind of how his beloved Bri Bri refuses to call Ethan by his name.

I’m sorry your wall has been defaced with this conspiracy theory map. But also impressed.

[quixotic-writer]

New Friends, New Safety

Request: Anon

Summary: You found yourself at a party for unknown reasons. You kept to yourself most of the night until you cross paths with a stranger who made you feel welcome. Little did you know that same person would be the savior of the evening as well as his band of friends.

Warning: mentions of assault

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

I didn’t quite understand why I was here at this party. I didn’t really even want to be here but I thought maybe that tonight would be different. It was an odd and sporadic decision that I have never really ever made before. But here I was now, and I didn’t want to just walk through the doors and then turn on my heel and disappear. I think that would make people look at me even more and have unnecessary attention on me. But, maybe I'm overthinking it? I don’t know.

But here I am, sitting on some crusty couch with a couple making out to the left of me with no signs of coming up for air, and to the right of me is some dude that decided he had enough for the evening and is snoring to the rhythm of the music blasting. I took another sip of the drink in my hand only to realize that the cup was now empty. I stare at the bottom of my cup and look up to the crowd of people chatting and dancing in front of me. I would have to push and shove my way through if I wanted another drink… With hesitancy, I got up and did just that. 

There was another detail I hated about crowds: my height, or lack thereof really. In comparison to most, I had a smaller build, petite they so politely called it. Honestly, I think I'd rather have someone just say I'm short or small than throw some fancy word to try and make me feel better. 

I found my way to the kitchen which was much quieter and – thankfully – less densely packed. I look amongst the soda options and contemplate which one I'll be drinking now. But, the thought of just leaving crosses my mind again.

“I don’t get why there’s so many options, makes it harder for idiots to get their drinks and clear this place out.” I heard over the muffled music and my own thoughts. I look up and see a guy standing there helping himself to the two liter of sprite. He watched as the carbonation filled his cup and then quickly dissipated, then he looked up to me. 

He was quite eye-catching honestly. Brown eyes that had a sparkle to them, eyes that held the power of someone who just enjoyed fun and conversations. Thick eyebrows framed them but gave them a softer and more inviting look. There was a mole on the crease of nostril where it would meet the base of his nose, and it seemed to disappear slightly when he smiled. He was clean and shaven with black, carefully styled hair. 

“Haha, yeah.” I responded quietly so as not to seem rude and to acknowledge that I heard what he had said. When he finished pouring his serving, he looked at me and slightly raised his brows. He gestures with the bottle in hand, almost as if silently asking if I wanted some. I couldn’t refuse so I held my cup a little closer and he poured me some. For some reason, I couldn’t stop looking back at him. And, it seemed he couldn’t either. “Thank you.” I said once my cup was full and I took a light sip.

“I’m Brian by the way, my friends call me Q though. That was kind of rude of me to not introduce myself.” He chuckles a little. We both linger in the kitchen, away from others and away from the chaos. Something about him felt safe, I could feel it. Nothing in me was telling me to run, hide, or cut the conversation short.

“(Y/N)... That’s my name if you were wondering.” He smiles lightly.

“Sweet… So what brings you to this party?”

“Poor decisions?” I answer honestly and questionably. It got a chuckle out of him and it made me feel some butterflies. 

“My friends brought me here. I’m not always one for the party scene, but I like a little fun once in a while.” Just then, someone else walked into what was temporarily our little personal corner of the world. “Speak of the devil this is my buddy Sal, been friends for a while.” The now named stranger smiles warmly to me and I mirror the same warm smile and nodded as a means of greeting him.

“Q, I was looking for you. Joe has now managed to nose nearly every person here and now he’s dancing like a maniac. You gotta see this.” Sal is practically pulling on Brian’s shirt as a means of coaxing him to see the spectacle that I'm assuming is their other friend.

“Alright, alright Sal, christ. I’ll see you around?” I nod with a smile as he’s already halfway out the door. He smiles back just as wide as he finally disappears around the corner. 

As I sat alone sipping away at my soda all by my lonesome, I contemplated my decisions. I hear the crowd uproaring and I cave into my curiosity to see what this ‘Joe’ character looks like and what has got everyone so up in a tizzy, especially Q’s friend. I find my way back to a packed living room. People built like trees and walls are surrounding the spectacle that has me leaving the comforts of the quiet kitchen. Curse this small body. I tried to jump to see overhead and I could only see in small increments. I grew tired and was tempted to give up until I shuffled around the group and found myself standing tall on the sofa to see over everyone, gaining a perfect view of everything.

There was Joe, now I could put a face to the name. He was putting his heart, soul, and… belly? Into his dancing. No shirt, swinging the piece of clothing around as he kept his little soiree. He truly was dancing like a maniac, but I loved it. 

“Ever see anyone dance like that before?” A random guy stands on the couch next to me to see all that was going on. 

“Never, it’s really entertaining though.” I didn’t want to be rude, so I responded to the stranger’s question as we looked on. Eventually though, I felt the urge to use the bathroom. I felt now was as good a time as any since everyone was distracted and I would be able to easily slip into the bathroom without having to wait around and start doing a little dance myself as I waited. “Odd question, but do you by chance know where the bathroom in this place is?” I asked the guy standing next to me.

“Uuuh, yeah! It’s down the hall, second door to the right.” I nod as thanks and quickly make my way over.

I finished up my business and I'm washing my hands. As the suds fall between my fingers and wash away under the water, I get this tingling in my nerves. I got nervous for some reason, I presumed it to be my body’s way of saying that I was over this whole party scene and it was time to go home. I shrug my shoulders and agree with my psyche and dry my hands.

When I opened the door, the guy that helped me find the bathroom was standing on the other end of the door. He shoved me back into the bathroom and his hands were just… on me.

I tried to scream, but it felt trapped in my throat. I could only get “no” out of me, but I just knew it wasn’t loud enough.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Was all I heard and it all went blank in my head. I broke out in a cold sweat. My body felt paralyzed, I couldn’t seem to move anything and when I did move, it ached. My mouth was dry and drawing in rapid gulps of breath. The lights in the bathroom felt too bright for my eyes. I could hear my heart pounding.

“Someone… Please…” I whispered out as burning hot tears fell.

The door burst open and before I knew it, the guy was off of me.

“Get your FUCKING hands off of her.” The dude was knocked in the jaw and sent spinning like a top because of the forceful impact and fell to the floor where he got the shit kicked out of him. My senses started coming back to and I could make out who was my savior tonight: Brian. The guy who filled my cup earlier. 

Behind him, stumbling in was his friend Sal.

“Holy shit, nice shot Q… Fuck, there she is.” My skin felt cold as Sal tip toed carefully around Q and made his way to me.

“(Y/N), here.” He quickly removed his jacket and wrapped it around me and helped to guide me out of the bathroom. “Q we better dip before he comes to and starts some scrappy doo act and then we get in trouble.” Q quickly stopped his tirade.

“You better keep your fucking ass down there dipshit. I see your face again or you try anything funny and it’s only gonna come back but it’ll be four times as bad.” Four times? I’d expected twice, but four was oddly specific… The guy whined and groaned as we escaped the bathroom. I found myself sandwiched between the two, Q in front of me and Sal behind me guarding me as we made our way out of here.

We pushed through the crowd of people, it felt somewhat suffocating and everything sounded too loud. It was all so overstimulating.

“Joe! Murr! Let’s go!” Sal bellowed behind him.

The boys sat me on the porch of the house. I was formally introduced to Joe and met another companion of theirs: Murr. All of them were absolute sweethearts. Joe helped to make me laugh, Murr brought me some water, Sal was a comforter and soothed me, and Q stood guard and helped soothe me as well with kind affirming words. They worked well together and created a dynamic that helped bring me down from the bout of severe anxiety that consumed me earlier.

“Is there anything else you need? Have you eaten? Do you need any more water?” Murr asked. They all leaned in waiting for a response, ready to take off and grab whatever it was that I needed. I softly laughed,

“No, I'm okay, really. Just grateful you all were there to be my rescue team.” 

“I can’t stand that shit. You never lay your hands on anyone like that.” Q crossed his arms over his chest as he huffed. I could see him getting worked up all over again.

“Well I sure hope that dipshit learned his lesson after the beatdown you gave him.” Sal says as he remembers the state Q left that guy in after we left the bathroom. The boys all mutter in agreement.

“Yeah. I don’t mean to be rude or anything guys, but i’m really fucking tired after all that shit. I think I'll be staying away from parties… permanently.” I get up on my feet.

“Let one of us take you back home please. Do you have a dorm, apartment, something nearby?” Q quickly jumped up. His eyes were filled with absolute worry.

“Actually, yeah, could you walk me home please Q? My dorm is a few blocks away.” I say with my cheeks rising in heat. Q smiled and wrapped his hand around my shoulder.

“Well then, m’lady, shall we leave?” “Wait, before you two head off.” The three other guys had passed around an old receipt and a pen. Each of them quickly scribbled on it and Joe handed it off to me as soon as he was done with his final addition to it.

“This has all of our numbers on it should you need any kind of help or support. Need us to walk you somewhere, give us a call. Need someone’s lights knocked out? Call only Q for that.” I giggled at the last addition as I looked at the paper. I studied each of their writing styles and it suited each of them so well and was so telling of their personalities.

“Do not hesitate at all. We’ll be around,” Murr says with hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face.

With that, the receipt was placed in my pocket and I had a protector there to walk me to where I was going. I was grateful that someone had their eye out for me and had my safety in mind. I was especially grateful for Q. He stepped up and was quick to run to my defense. I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if he wasn’t there.

“Thank you.” I said softly.

“Don’t thank me. I was just doing what anyone should have done. He looked shady and I had a bad feeling when he followed you to the bathroom.” I couldn’t quite read his face. Was it worry? Anger? Fear? Relief? I’m not sure. One thing was for certain though: his face shone with a genuine glow of honesty and care. All of them did. 

I made 4 new friends tonight in an unimaginable way. Because of that, the night time feels four times safer. It feels especially safe when Q decides to spend the night with me. His arms gently enveloping my frame, holding me close.

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

Rec list for Eddie and Symby being vaguely to very gay?

I'm sorry for coming to you with my monsterfucker agenda 😔👊 (no I'm not)

i mean, i probably could’ve seen this coming.

venom is dominated by two opposing narratives. let’s call this the “relationship narrative” and the “control narrative”. they’re not perfectly separated, like, you’ll definitely get elements of one in the other, but generally one of them describes what the story, at its core, is using the symbiote for.

now comics are an endless tug-of-war at the best of times, much less the gayest and slimiest of times. there’s a neverending backlash and backbacklash going on between these two takes. what you want is the relationship narrative.

everything very much started out with that take. eddie and the symbiote are two characters who forge an evil alliance because it lets them do what they wanna do (kill spider-man, more or less) and they have the same kinds of neuroses and complexes and syndromes. lots of early comics are also very fun about the merged consciousness, merged identity deal. that’s kind of the textbook relationship stuff.

personally i absolutely think the original stories (venom was created by david michelinie) have romantic undertones, even starting in the villainy days. eddie describes their first meeting as “a shadow moved, caressed me.” he takes the rejection of the symbiote still being “in love with” spider-man really hard. he sobs his eyes out when he thinks it’s dead and promises to avenge it bare-handed. they totally expect to live happily ever after on a deserted island together.

then there’s venom: lethal protector, which is cute on its own, but if you’re reading for slime romance, i very specifically recommend the novelisation. i won’t even spoil it. and then, planet of the symbiotes is the first comic that i would say has outright queer themes, intentional or not.

so all those recs until now are collected in this post.

we're trucking along through the 90s, we explore elements of one take and then the other and sometimes we ignore the symbiote completely, but not too much changes, overall. the next BIG stop in Gay Venom is, of course, the hunger.

miniseries by len kaminski, just venom: the hunger. plenty of people have written their essays on it, but what’s always important to me is that it DID NOT come out of nowhere. as said above, it expanded on themes that were there, it references michelinie venom very explicitly, like you get your SECOND “tenderly touching the green glass tube” scene.

but yes this one is specifically about, like, stigmatisation, otherness, mental illness, meeting all those things with care and empathy and optimism, tentacle sex. again, many essays. a venom comic that can go “look at the twisted deviance of this relationship” and then turn it around into “but how are you looking at it” is good. god how good would it be if they also did that to eddie more. anyway.

a few years later you get the first MAJOR fucking backlash, culminating in the SECOND story titled the hunger. spectacular spider-man: the hunger, from 2003. completely reboots venom and retcons their motivations and backstories, makes very spiteful references to planet of the symbiotes and the hunger, like it is not also called that by sheer coincidence. literally starts out, in a comic that wants to tackle and redefine venom, with the line “the PROBLEM is that you guys are like an old married couple”. so the new status quo is that the symbiote only ever used eddie to be with spider-man, and eddie only ever used the symbiote to not die of cancer.

the “control narrative” that really kicks in here uses the symbiote as, you know, a thing to control, eddie’s demons personified or even a completely foreign force to torment him. if eddie is evil, it’s not because of what he thinks and believes and wants, it’s because he couldn’t control the symbiote and gave in to its inexplicable bloodlust.

this is an unambiguous downgrade in terms of complexity, in my humble opinion, completely fucks up eddie’s responsibility themes, and is also a pretty clearly petty reaction to venom’s absolute oversaturation in the nineties. the bitch was everywhere and most of it wasn’t good. so there was LOTS of “look at this creepy loser” content by writers cringing themselves into self-awareness at the time. the 00s were going to be GRITTY and MATURE.

this of course means that we get to see eddie slit his wrists and bleed to death on panel after selling the symbiote to supervillains as an attempted act of redemption???

wild fucking times! it’s not exactly worth recommending as ~shippy~, but the first real backbacklash to this first round of retcons comes from dan slott, who just kind of ignores it all in new ways to die. drags eddie back to the land of the living and relevant, makes the symbiote refuse to let its new host kill him, telling that host, and reestablishing, that it loves eddie. and then, to keep him living and relevant, slott makes eddie anti-venom.

don’t even worry about it. anti-venom is essentially eddie seeking redemption with symbiote powers, but without the symbiote, except he pretty much acts no fucking different at all, just keeps on being a murderous vigilante with cracked ideas about innocence and guilt. people still act like he’s better now because, in its metatextual ways, the hunger was right.

then fucking uuuuuuhhhhhhh. agent venom. symbiote goes to flash thompson and the us military, and the writer, rick remender, goes really, really, really hard on the control narrative. the symbiote becomes a substance flash is addicted to, gives a voice to his past abuse, it’s dark times all the times.

people very much do like that narrative for flash, like at least from that perspective it was worth it. i don’t like it much for the symbiote. for the symbiote, representing everything fucked up with flash and forcing him to murder kill bite all the time is resolved via the good guy avengers literally lobotomising it so flash can wear it without further resistance or input. imagine doing that to a human person. you’re uncooperative so we’re gonna turn off your higher cognitive functions and wear you like a meat suit. happy ending for everybody! truly we’ve conquered our demons this day.

then! at the same time, there’s a cartoon coming out, it’s called ultimate spider-man. THAT one does the control narrative take with harry osborn, but then does the relationship take with flash, making it the only cartoon to outright redeem the symbiote and let it find friendship and be valued as a person.

and people loved it! so brian michael bendis gets it in his head that he’s going to redeem the symbiote and make it partner up with flash. and he does redeem it by the highly fucking questionable means of having it be “cleansed”, aka brainwashed and relieved of its memories and personality. not that it matters for long. nothing fucking matters in comics. take this with you if it’s the only thing.

so then for fun friendship times you get venom: space knight, flash and the symbiote’s adventures in space! and then that gets cancelled. eddie is off somewhere being toxin and hunting carnage (2016). many good comics but you did not ask for them.

and THEN.

it is time for the next MOTHER of backlashes.

flash gets literally discarded at fucking roadside to put the symbiote back on eddie and turn back time on their relationship to RIGHT before the FIRST backlash happened. you know, all those 2003 retcons. gone. ignored. no more. venom’s themes are now those circa 1996 again. full fucking on relationship narrative. ROMANTIC relationship narrative, and that after the symbiote was turned into eddie’s evil shadow, after he hated it and spent a LONG time seeking to eradicate all symbiotes (and not even for the first time).

the COSTA run. venom (2016). reviled and beloved.

like this comic is fucking ANGRY about symbiote treatment. i HAD to tell you all of that so you’d understand ANYTHING it’s doing. the first thing it does is flip it completely around, puts the symbiote on a military guy who’s making IT do bad things, makes his ability to control it horrifying and abusive instead of heroic and admirable. one of the later things it does (in the follow-up venom: first host) is outright feature a villain who lobotomises symbiotes, ending on a symbiote serving him swift and sweet payback by doing the same thing TO HIM. it’s exactly as unsubtle as the hunger (2003) was about its hang-ups.

comics... are a conversation.

flash remains a symbiote friend but still got fucked over big time by it all, symbiote-focused writers slott and costa also kind of use him to literally, in case anybody hadn’t caught on, literally spell out the REAL story that’s been going on in the writer's room for the past THIRTY YEARS:

you’ll notice i didn’t actually list any of the Gay Shit for you, you’ve probably already seen it or you’ll get to see it for yourself. yes, they are deeply in love, yes, it’s fucked up and flawed, yes, it is real and taken seriously and has ultimately redeeming potential. yes the concept of that nearly knocked me off my feet and in front of the subway at one point. yes there’s mpreg

it’s also fucking riddled with events, which spin off into other comics, so either ignore those and rely on the recaps OR click yourself forward through the “next issue (story)” button on marvel wikia to know what to read.

and after that must of course come the backbackbacklash, as certain as death or taxes. in the next run, we retcon everything once more, eddie just needs to control his darkness, the symbiote was an evil abuser all along, nothing on earth is ever new.

i’m not gonna go through it, i’m just gonna point you to the backbackbackbacklash issue that came out during this time: venom annual volume 2 number 1 - it’s confusingly named, it’s the one that has a blue-skinned space lady on it. this one ignores the backbackbacklash going on very pointedly and goes “it’s not ABOUT control” again, it’s pretty explicitly romantic.

and then there’s also marvel comics presents (2019) #5, which, oddly enough, does not particularly feature the characterisation you’d typically see in the relationship narrative? but it does feature eddie and the symbiote literally fucking, so you’d want to know about it.

that’s the overall, like, frame of eddie and the symbiote being in a relationship (nuh uh) (yeah they are) (NUH UH) (YEAH THEY ARE)

some stuff that’s smaller but still notable, uh.

nova (1999) 6 - 7, that’s the “we’re space married”

venom: dark origin, that’s an ALTERNATE (!!!) take on the character, don’t expect a likeable eddie but it’s very darkly funny and gay so what can i say.

venom: the end, which i would absolutely fucking hate to be canon, i think its characterisation is quite regressive, but the symbiote sure is in love, i guess.

venom: separation anxiety, the dawn of the control narrative but eddie’s characterisation did not have to go so wrong from here, like if they’d just figured out AT THIS STAGE that he's STILL acting like venom without it... i digress. it has the symbiote going eddie eddie eddieee

venom: sinner takes all, this is the first she-venom comic so that’s. hm. interesting. healing symbiote blanket

don’t read venom: license to kill just look at this panel with me

if i think of more comics worth adding i’ll add them.

the subtext slash text is heavy enough to be present to some degree in literally every cartoon adaptation of eddie brock. spider-man: the animated series goes FULL control narrative, in fact it started the “the symbiote corrupted peter” take that we to this day cannot escape, but the first few venom episodes are VERY playful about their relationship.

in spectacular spider-man it’s canon, but horrible. eddie’s in love with it, but eddie's a good boy and the symbiote is played very, very, very abusively. i think this is an evil symbiote adaptation that works well enough, at least it’s an actual meaningful character instead of just a malevolent force to resist.

in marvel’s spider-man, the only venom episode worth watching is venom returns.

i’ve actually got every symbiote-relevant episode listed right here from when we did our communal watch-through.

also watch truth in journalism. idk if it’s exactly shippy just do it

[five-rivers]

Goals

Hey!  @puns-are-great-and-so-is-danny!  Here is your gift fic!  It got a little out of hand, and it doesn’t have a super solid ending, but I hope you like it.  :)  

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Dear Albus,

I hope this letter finds you well.  I know these are trying and troubling times, both here and in Britain, and part of me hesitates to ask this of you for exactly that reason. But, as ever, circumstances leave us with few viable options.

News of what happened to Amity Park this Spring has spread far and wide at this point, so I won’t waste your time repeating what you already know.  What is not common knowledge, however, is that after the dust settled, the Aurors assigned to the case encountered several irregularities, not the least of which was a disturbingly high number of completely untrained young witches and wizards.  

Once news of them gets out, I have no doubt the official line will be that they simply fell through the cracks, that, unfortunately, our spells for finding young magically-gifted persons are imperfect, that the nature of Amity Park obscured them from view.  This, I fear, is a lie.  

I have no proof, but I believe they were deliberately removed from MACUSA files on account of their heritage.  Albus, they are descended from Scourers.  

Perhaps that should be obvious, perhaps you had already guessed, considering the so-called reasoning behind the attack on Amity Park, the ideals those murderers professed, but I want to make myself and my own reasoning clear.  Though it shames me deeply to say it, those children will not be safe at Ilvermorny, nor, I believe, will they be at any other school on this continent.  For all the time that has passed, the Barebones Incident and its repercussions are too fresh in the minds of the people.  

There are seven of them.  Well, seven that are of concern to me.  The others have found or are seeking alternate arrangements.  They have been staying at the school, for the time being.  My colleagues and I have been attempting to give them a good grounding in magical basics. They would not come to you without foundations.

Albus, I am begging you, accept these students into Hogwarts.  I know this is a poor time.  I have heard rumors, horrible, horrible rumors, about what is happening in Britain, about what happened at Hogwarts last year, but I fear for these children’s future, for their spirits, should they be forced into a place where they will be hated simply because of who their ancestors were.  

I know that even in Hogwarts they would be unable to escape that, but it would be less.  Britain does not have the same history with Scourers that we do.  More, for some of them, they would not be forced to walk in the same halls as the kin of their parents’ murderers.

I will understand if you refuse, but I am relying on your compassion.  

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Agilbert Fontaine

Headmaster of the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked down at the letter from his old friend and colleague and sighed, his heart heavy. Agilbert was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix.  Albus knew more about the situation in Amity Park than Agilbert assumed and likely was aware of things that Agilbert himself was not.  

For example, while the bulk of the group that had devastated and decimated Amity Park were indeed Magical Separatists and those looking for generations-late revenge on Scourers, their core leadership included American Death Eaters.  

He was also aware of the children Agilbert had mentioned.  Most of the truly astonishing number of magically inclined children and adults in Amity Park had chosen to find private tutors, go through correspondence or summer courses, or attend one of several small schools in North America that had quickly shuffled to make accommodations for them, on the condition that they hide their origins.  

The seven mentioned…  Well.  They didn’t really have those options.  Either their names were too infamous, or they had no one to stay with while they puzzled through correspondence courses.  Or both.

And the names.  Even here, some of them were well known.

Albus could understand why Agilbert had asked for his help.

But was it responsible to drag these children here while Voldemort was lurking in the shadows, building up his power base once again? To offer them safety he could not give?

For those students already attending Hogwarts, it was one thing, they were already involved, simply by virtue of where they were born and where they lived.  But those seven, in America, they would be—

Well.  Not safe, perhaps, not with their parents killed and their home ravaged by hostile magic. But… farther away from the direct line of fire.  

But would they be?  Beyond simply spreading fear and hate, was there another reason for the attack on Amity Park?

Albus heaved another sigh.  

At times he enjoyed making decisions like this.  Enjoyed power, knowledge, experience, those things people tended to mistake for wisdom, even though he had made more mistakes than anyone else he knew, and all the privileges and responsibilities that came with it, all the control over other peoples’ lives.  This was a failing, a flaw, he knew, and time and time again it had come back to bite him.  Karmic vengeance for being an old man who kept too many secrets.  

But times like these…  In times like these, he despised the choices he was forced to make.  

“What troubles you, Albus?  I can hear you sighing from the other room.”

Albus did not flinch or startle at the ghost’s approach and gently chiding tone.  He looked up and smiled thinly at his former and present colleague.  It seemed Cuthbert was having a good day.  It was a pity so few students saw him at his best, and regarded his lessons as utterly boring, but Albus could never find the heart to replace him.  Nor, sadly, the budget.  Damn the board of directors.

In answer, Albus turned the letter to face him.  Cuthbert Binns was not a member of the Order, either, but he, like every other member of the Hogwarts staff, had been informed of what had transpired at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  He would understand Albus’s dilemma.  

“Amity Park?” murmured Cuthbert, tapping the second paragraph.  “That sounds… familiar.  That—” Cuthbert broke off.  

If Albus had not spent significant portions of his life surrounded by ghosts, he would not have caught the subtle change in Cuthbert’s silvery complexion.  

“Perhaps you heard about the tragedy that happened there recently.”  Which would be a first, even alive, Cuthbert had never really cared about anything that happened more recently than a hundred years ago, but not impossible.

“Tragedy?  No.” Cuthbert shook his head.  “Amity Park it’s—It is…”  He trailed off, looking down at the letter, disturbed.  “Albus, I have known you for many years.  You have been here for many years, with all us ghosts, and…  You know there are things the dead do not speak of to the living.”

Albus did know.  “Are you saying Amity Park is related to one of those things?”  Could this be another attempt on Voldemort’s part to defeat death? His suspicion regarding horcruxes was bad enough, what that could mean for Harry…  But if that man had yet another way to stave off death…

Cuthbert dithered, and Albus wished fiercely that he could trust him enough to tell him about the Order, about Voldemort’s plans, to impress upon him how important this was, how vital that Albus know.  

But he couldn’t.  It would just take one bad day, and one misplaced question from a student related to someone unfortunate, and everything would come tumbling down.  

No.  Albus could not push him.  

“I—I must go,” said Cuthbert, halfway through the wall. “I have to look into something. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He was not.

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Albus had still not made a decision on Agilbert’s letter the next night.  He had consulted Minerva, Severus, and the other teachers who were also in the Order on the matter, and had distracted himself with other, arguably more important, matters.  

(The eyes on Number Four Privet Drive, the movements in and out of the Malfoy residence, the horribly dangerous games Severus was playing, the master schedule for the next school year, the still-empty Defense Against the Dark Arts post, extra protections on Hogwarts’ boundaries, how to keep the Order safe…)

But he shouldn’t put something like this off for much longer.

It would be much easier to deny Agilbert’s request.  As tragic as the seven students’ circumstances were, they weren’t his responsibility, and he had so many.  

Would you feel the same if the attackers had been Gellert’s people?

They’re children.  Like your students.  Like Adri—

Albus closed his eyes and forced the tiny and vicious voice away, out of his mind.

“Sir Nicholas wants to speak to you,” said one of the portraits.  

Surprised, Albus turned his head to face the image of his predecessor.  “Of course. Could you tell him he can come in?”

A few minutes later, the Gryffindor ghost floated through the wall.  “Hello, Albus,” he said, the outlines of his figure crisper than they usually were, and continued before Albus could greet him, “I am sorry to interrupt you like this, but is it true?  Seven students from Amity Park?”

“Cuthbert told you?”

“He told all of us,” said Sir Nicholas, shrugging in a way that made his head roll unsettlingly.  “You should accept them.”

Albus raised his eyebrows.  

“There is a certain element of risk involved,” the ghost’s voice was careful, “but if they come to Hogwarts, there is a possibility that you may gain a powerful ally, and that…”  Here, Sir Nicholas hesitated.  “Certain ancient wrongs might be righted.”

“I suppose it is that second the ghosts are interested in?” asked Albus, both curious and, despite himself, amused.  

Sir Nicholas gave him a gentle smile.  “Do not imagine that we are careless of your struggles, Albus, but many of us were long dead before you were born.  We care, but… sometimes the picture in front of our eyes is not the same as the one before yours.”

That was reasonable.  

However.

“Can you give me any more detail?” asked Albus, hopefully.

“I’m afraid not,” said the ghost, drifting backwards.

.

The next letter from Agilbert was much thicker and contained the records of seven new Hogwarts students.  

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The wand turning in his fingers was made of pear wood.  Not that Danny could tell, just by looking, but the wandmaker, who had accompanied her wares to Ilvermorny, had been very talkative, even when Danny had… not.  

Pear wood, cut from a tree that had grown up through a chain-link fence on the wandmaker’s property.  She had meant to cut it out, she said, but by the time she had gotten around to doing so, there had been bowtruckles in it, and she wasn’t about to cut down a good wand wood tree.

Danny still wasn’t entirely sure what bowtruckles were to be honest.  

The wood of the wand was normal.  The core, apparently, was not.  It was hair from a magical creature, which most wand cores were, but the wandmaker had cheerfully admitted to having no idea what the hair was from. It had shown up in her workshop one day, in a little box, black and white, in neat little bundles.  

Danny had suspicions about where it had come from.  

Suspicions that had been exacerbated by the fact that both Sam and Tucker had been ‘chosen’ by wands with the same core.  

Anyway, Danny had liked the wandmaker, even if he thought she was a bit weird, for using components that just showed up out of nowhere in her work.  

(She reminded him a bit of Mom.)

Danny wasn’t sure why he was thinking of her.  It had been months since then.  But he was feeling lonely, even though his friends were just in the next room, and Jazz was here, and maybe she was the closest he would let his mind get to…

To…

“If you keep doing that,” said Jazz, “you’re going to put your eye out.”  

Danny glanced over at her.  There was an east-facing window behind her, and the sun was shining through her shoulder, lighting her up like stained glass.  

“If they catch you in color, they’re going to have questions.”

Jazz rolled her golden eyes, but the color drained out of her, leaving her ‘properly’ silver and gray.  “If they actually listened, instead of dismissing everything weird in Amity as untrained magic acting up, then they wouldn’t need to have questions.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t, and I don’t think they’re going to. So, considering what we have to do…”

“We need all our advantages.  You don’t have to tell me again,” said Jazz.  She pulled a face.  “Well, you did, actually, I guess.  I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” muttered Danny.  “You only died a couple months ago.  It takes time to recalibrate.”

“Mm,” said Jazz, sticking her head through the windowpanes and looking down.  She pulled back.  “Your escort’s coming up.”

“Oh?  Yeah?”

“Or at least someone.  It’s hard to tell who, what with the hats and all…”

It was time to go, then.  Danny gathered his things and joined the others in the common area.

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Hours later, as the sun was setting, nine Americans stepped out of a fireplace in the Ministry of Magic.  Seven were students.  One was a very haggard chaperon.  The last was a ghost whom aurors and representatives from the Department of Spectral Affairs hadn’t quite been able to dissuade from haunting her brother.  

Such was life.  Such was death.  

“Alright, kids,” said the chaperon, chivying them towards a central area.  “We just have to go through customs, and then we can find a place to relax until the representatives from Hogwarts get here.”

“I thought we already went through customs,” protested Dash.

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  “The American side.  To make sure we weren’t smuggling anything out.  Now we have to go through the British side, to make sure we aren’t smuggling anything in.”

“Smuggling isn’t really the main issue,” said the chaperon, “but, yes.  MACUSA knows you aren’t in the states anymore, and we have to make sure the Ministry over here knows you are, so you can comply with their laws and such.  Oh, and so you can get the Trace, but that isn’t important.”

“The Trace?” asked Sam, doubling her word count for the day. Ever since the attack, she had been rather taciturn.  

“It’s how they keep track of underage magic over here,” explained the chaperon.  “MACUSA phased it out a few years ago.  It isn’t very reliable, and besides, recent studies show that magical persons of any age can use magic accidentally, and there’s no good way to tell if there is a magical adult nearby, so…”  She gave herself a little shake.  “But it’s the law here, and it doesn’t matter.  You’ll be at Hogwarts the whole time, anyway.”

“You mean they’ll be tracking us?” asked Danny, trying to keep the alarm from his voice.  That could be… problematic.  Considering what he was really here for, and all.  

“Not you in particular,” said the chaperon, snagging Tucker by the back of his shirt before he could make a detour to investigate a guarded cart of ominously sparking electronics.  She pulled him back.  “It’s my understanding that every child with the trace on them shows up as a dot on a map, and the dot changes color if magic is performed near them.  Some of the more sophisticated versions can determine what kind of magic, but, well… it isn’t like they ever know which dot belongs to which person, so unless you’re living with all no-maj family members—They call them muggles, here, I think—in a particular house, it is very difficult for them to determine who did what.  I’d tell you more, but this isn’t my area of expertise.  Perhaps the customs agents will know more?  You should ask when we go through…”

Danny began to tune her out.  He caught Sam’s eye, then Tucker’s, and they all nodded at each other a little bit.  Not that they had a plan or anything, but sometimes it helped to know that other people also found a situation to be sucky.  

Where would the Minister of Magic be in all this mess, anyway? Danny let his eyes rove over the hall. There was no guarantee that he was even here today, and Danny wasn’t to the point where he wanted to reveal himself. He had been given lots of instructions, but one of them had been to keep himself safe.  Clockwork had even said it was a priority.  

Best to stick to letters, for now.  Even if none of them had been answered, yet.

They reached the long, winding line that was customs, had their luggage gone through yet again.  Tucker lost another PDA, and Danny had to wonder how many more he had hidden.  The American side of customs had done a pretty good job of finding them.  Sam got taken aside for questioning, because some of her goth paraphernalia had a passing resemblance to ‘Dark’ objects.  Star had to explain her medications.  Valerie set off some sort of magical metal detector, and the customs agents started arguing about what had caused it.  No one had found out about her suit yet.

Meanwhile, Danny was sent to another table, to fill out forms for Jazz.  Again. Because, for reasons Danny didn’t fully understand, even with everything Clockwork and the other Ancients told him, wizards thought they could control and regulate what ghosts did and where they went.  

Danny did not particularly care for wizards, as a group. The paperwork—The stupid, pointless paperwork, because Jazz was going to do what she wanted and no one would stop her, he’d make sure of it—made him angry.  A lot of things made him angry, lately, when they didn’t just make him depressed or sullen.  

“Breathe, Danny,” said Jazz, leaning down, next to his ear. “The language in this is stupid, but I don’t mind being called names.  We both know they’re wrong, and what they think isn’t important anyway, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, forcing his muscles to relax.  He finished the paperwork.  

They passed through the last customs barrier together, and soon found themselves in a large atrium with a large, extremely gaudy, gold fountain in the center.  

Now, Danny had to admit, he had only the briefest of encounters with house elves and goblins, and none at all with centaurs, but he couldn’t imagine that the look of adoration on their faces was at all accurate. At least not for the species as a whole.

He tried to imagine the statue with a ghost in it, with a half-ghost in it, and he just—

Yeah.  No.

Wizards.  

Or, at least, these wizards.  Whatever.  

They found a bench off to one side, to wait for the Hogwarts representatives.  Danny had to wonder how they’d find them.  Would they hold signs?  Seemed probable.  Everything in the ‘wizarding world’ seemed to be stuck fifty years back in time, if not more.

Or, maybe, the chaperon knew who they were meeting and would wave at them.  Like she was doing now.  

Okay, so, Danny had to check himself to make sure he wasn’t coming up with random prejudices.  Ancients.  If his first encounter with the supernatural had been those people in cloaks showing up out of thin air and starting to kill people, he’d probably never be able to pull himself out of that mindset.  

Not all wizards were terrible.  Like the wandmaker.  She was okay.

He took the time to assess the two witches who had come to pick them up.  They were opposites of each other, at least in appearance.  One was tall, thin, and severe, almost sharp.  The other was short and round and sort of soft around the edges.  The only areas in which they demonstrated similarity were their age and apparent gender.

“Alright, kids.  This is Professor McGonagall,” she gestured to the taller woman, “and this is Professor Sprout.  They’re the heads of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, respectively.  Minerva, Pomona, these are Dash Baxter, Daniel Fenton, Tucker Foley, Valerie Grey, Samantha Manson, Paulina Sanchez, and Star Thunder.”

“And Jazz,” said Danny, annoyed that his sister had, once again, been left out.

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Nice to meet you.”

Professor McGonagall nodded.  “We will be taking you to Diagon Alley to pick up school supplies for the year before we go to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” said Star, eyes tracking a flock of apparently animate paper airplanes, “we know.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment. “Do you want to come with us, Cerise?”

“No, I have a few other things to do on this side of the Atlantic.  That’s why they sent me.  Have a good time in Diagon Alley, kids, it’s a historic place!”

.

Danny had to wonder about goblins.  Did they just… really like banks, or were they forbidden from holding jobs elsewhere?  Or effectively forbidden by prejudice?  Because, thus far, he had only seen goblins when changing currency.  ‘No-maj’ money to the denominations used by American wizards, and now from that to the infinitely more confusing British ‘galleons.’

It would probably be rude to ask.  

Maybe he could find a book…

But were these people self-aware enough to write about stuff like that?  He shook his head.  Prejudice, prejudice…  He barely knew anything about any of these people, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions prematurely.  

Not that he didn’t already know several unsavory things about their system of governance, thanks to the Ancients.  And their not-so-little terrorist problem.  And the fact that they thought erasing people’s memories with a spell that could cause long-term brain damage was A-Okay.

Yeah.  But that didn’t mean all of them were bad.  Just that their government sucked.  Which was true for almost all governments, so it didn’t mean anything.

McGonagall and Sprout were very efficient as they went through the shops, giving the impression that they had done this, or something like this, many times before.  They did not allow detours, despite the many, many distracting things on display on the street and in the windows.  Professor Sprout, however, kept up a running commentary on what things were, so it wasn’t too frustrating.  

About halfway through the shopping trip, they stopped at the place that sold uniforms.  Sprout stayed with them, while McGonagall left to go get other supplies.  It was an experience.  Other than his jumpsuit, Danny had never had any clothing fitted specifically for him before.  

The fitting made him… nervous.  

The tape measures and needles flew close to his skin.  The seamstress who had been assigned to him also kept touching him, which was part of her job, and it wasn’t invasive or anything, but still.  Also, there were a lot of other teens, and even some preteen kids, in the store, getting their uniforms, and they were all staring.

What they were staring at wasn’t the same from person to person, Paulina and Jazz seemed to be the biggest targets for whatever reason, but it was still staring.  The parents waiting with their kids were staring as well, and Danny started to fidget. Which meant that he got stabbed by the needle a few times.  Which wasn’t fun.  

But eventually that was over, and they were on their way to Hogwarts.  

.

Considering that Agilbert had tried to compress years’ worth of magical education into the space of a few months for these students, the results were remarkable.  True, with one notable exception, none of them were on a fifth-year level in Transfiguration, but Minerva didn’t feel the need to put them all in first-year or remedial classes, either.  

She could only hope they did as well in their assessments in other subjects.  They would have a hard enough time figuring out schedules for these seven, without having to account for them bouncing across year levels.  

She picked up the written assessment from the one student she would be accepting into fifth-year Transfiguration.  His penmanship was shaky, none of them had quite mastered writing with quills, and his grasp of the theory behind the spells was incomplete, but it was better than some.  She tried not to roll her eyes as she thought of Crabbe and Goyle.  

As a teacher, she should be above that.  Alas.  

Mr. Fenton did have some insights in his essay questions that were truly extraordinary for a person who didn’t even know magic existed at the beginning of the year.  Perhaps they had another Hermione on their hands, although he didn’t give off the same air as she did.  Or he had spent the summer focusing only on Transfiguration.  Or Mr. Fenton had a singular talent in Transfiguration. Regardless, gifted and motivated students were always a pleasure to teach.  

Minerva gathered her papers and left to meet Filius, who had tested the students before her.  She was tempted to go look in on them now and see how the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was handling her first teaching experience but suppressed the urge.  She would see them, and, sadly, Delores Umbridge, at lunch in only an hour.

Which was why she was so surprised to find the children in a hall so far away from Delores’ room.  

Then she reminded herself that, appearances aside, these were not fifth-year students.  They had no experience navigating the castle.  

“Are you lost?” she asked.

The students exchanged glances.  “Uh, sort of?” said Miss Sanchez, twirling a curl of hair around her fingers.  “We weren’t sure if we should try to find Mr. Snape, or if we should go to the lunch hall.”

“Professor Snape,” corrected Minerva, mildly.  “Did you already finish Professor Umbridge’s assessment?”

“She didn’t give us an assessment,” said Miss Manson, angrily.  

Minerva’s eyebrows went up.  “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Fenton.  “She basically said that she was doing the same curriculum for everyone, so she didn’t need to.  So, we were wondering if we should move on to, um, potions?  Potions.  Or if we should go to lunch, or just hang out, or what.”  

“Professor Snape is unlikely to be expecting you at this point,” said Minerva, feeling a headache growing behind her eyes.  What was Delores thinking?  The same curriculum for all years?  For eleven-year-olds and eighteen-year-olds?  There would be riots.  Or at least hexes.  “I can take you to the Great Hall.”

“Thanks, Ms. McGonagall,” said Mr. Foley.  And what was that he was hiding in his robes?  How many cursed muggle machines had he smuggled in?

Minerva sighed.  Honestly, it was probably harmless, though she possibly should speak to Charity about it.  “Professor McGonagall.”

“Sorry,” said Mr. Fenton.  “It’s just… hard to adjust.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  

“I suppose it is,” she said.  “This way, children.���

.

Jazz floated through a wall, carefully avoiding the paintings.  Their inhabitants weren’t quite ghosts, from what she and Danny could tell, but they also weren’t not ghosts.  

It hadn’t taken her long last night to find the actual wizarding ghosts.  They’d been expecting her, in more ways than one.  But they had been weird.  Empty. They didn’t have any ectoplasm in them, and the intensity that was a part of every other ghost Jazz had ever met, Danny included, was absent.  

Clockwork and the Lady had warned them about that, before sending Danny, and by extension Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, off on his mission. Jazz just hadn’t quite believed it.  

Wizarding ghosts weren’t made of passion, need, want, duty, or even stubbornness.  They were made of fear.  Fear, by itself, didn’t hold ectoplasm well, especially not fear of death.  Wizarding ghosts might as well be mere imprints for all the power they had.

From the beginning, Jazz had been less than enthusiastic about pretending to be one of them.  Now, she was even less so.

It wasn’t their fault, though.  At least, it wasn’t entirely their fault.  None of the ghosts here were around back when the Ancients and the wizards of the day came together and put their names to the Tenebris Carta, and they were trying to make amends.  It sounded like they hoped the old treaty could be renegotiated, or that they hoped Danny and Jazz could get them an exception.  

Jazz didn’t hate them.  Didn’t dislike them or anything, and Danny would probably try to help them, so long as they didn’t turn evil or anything.  That was just the kind of person Danny was.  

She just needed more time to… adjust to them.  And the paintings.  Because wow.  

“Ah, Miss Fenton!”  

Jazz twisted herself over, mid-air.  “You can call me Jazz, if you want, Sir Nicholas.”

The silvery ghost smiled.  “If you insist.  We’re going down to the Great Hall, to introduce ourselves to your companions over lunch.  I was wondering if you would like to join us.”

“Sure,” said Jazz, descending to float by the other ghost. “But who do you mean by ‘we?’”

“All the castle ghosts,” said Sir Nicholas, “and possibly Peeves, though he won’t be invited.”

“Peeves?”

“The poltergeist.  He isn’t really a ghost.  At least…  he’s not a ghost like us.”

“Mhm,” said Jazz.  “Should I look forward to meeting him, or should I be very afraid?”

“Ah, neither, I suppose?  He tends to play pranks, but he never does anything terribly dangerous, and he couldn’t hurt you if he tried.”

“Well,” said Jazz, “as long as he doesn’t mess with my brother, we’ll probably get along just fine.”  She flexed her hands to disperse the pale green flames that had started to creep up her fingers.  “If he does, I’ll tear him apart.”

“Speaking of your brother, do you have any guesses as to which house he will be joining?”

“I wasn’t under the impression it was a choice,” said Jazz.

“It isn’t, exactly.  Students are sorted into the houses with, well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but houses are selected based on a student’s personality, aptitudes, and values.  Normally, if they came in as first-years, they would be sorted on the first, but given the circumstances, they’ll be sorted tonight.  I’m rather hoping to have a few new students for my house.”

Jazz grinned, detecting a note of competition.  “And what does your house look for?  Gryffindor, right?”

“Bravery,” said Sir Nicholas, proudly.  “Considering your brother’s accomplishments, I’m looking forward to seeing him join.”

“He is the bravest person I know,” said Jazz.  

.

Several dozen ghosts phasing through the walls didn’t just set off Danny’s fight-or-flight response.  Sam readied her wrist-lasers, while Tucker grabbed Danny’s wrist and started hunting for a place to hide Danny so his transformation wouldn’t be noticeable.  Dash and Star took cover under one of the tables.  Paulina pulled out her wand.  Valerie materialized a hand blaster.  

It wasn’t entirely clear what weapon went off first, but it didn’t really matter.  The end result was chaos.

“Oops,” said Jazz.  

.

“I am so, so, sorry,” said Jazz, hovering over Danny. Literally.  

“It’s fine,” said Danny.  “Really.”

“No, it isn’t.  I should have realized how everyone would react.  I should have told them to stop it, or something.”

“They were already on their way through the walls when you got there, weren’t you?” asked Tucker, swinging his legs back and forth as he sat on the end of the hospital bed.  

No one had been seriously injured, but a few tables had been exploded before the teachers had calmed everyone down and confiscated the ‘bizarre muggle weapons.’  On the other hand, everyone had a number of inconvenient scrapes and bruises that Madam Pomfrey insisted on taking a look at.

“Still,” said Jazz.  “I know all of you have PTSD from repeated ghost attacks and those people, I should have known what that would look like to you.”

“Er,” said Dash.  “It really is fine.”

“Yeah,” grunted Valerie, which was surprising.  

Outside of ‘Team Phantom,’ none of the others interacted with Jazz very much.  They didn’t seem to know how.  Valerie, however, outright avoided Jazz most of the time.  

Which, well.  Danny wasn’t about to call her behavior reasonable, but it was definitely in-character. This seemed like a good sign, though.

“Yes, dear,” agreed Madam Pomfrey.  “It isn’t your fault.  We adults should have said something before things got out of hand like that.”  She waved her wand back and forth over Star’s prominent black eye, and the bruise just… vanished.  Like Star had never been hurt.  

Danny inhaled slowly.  It wasn’t the first time he had seen magical healing—The aurors who had arrived a few hours after the attack on Amity Park had done a great deal—but if there was anything of magic that Danny wanted to learn, it was that.  And anything protective.  

“Is there a class for that?” he asked.  

“For what?”

“Healing.”

“Yes, it’s an elective,” said Madam Pomfrey.  “Though it does have a few required courses. Perhaps you will be able to take it next year?”

Danny swallowed down envy and nodded.  “Yeah, I guess we aren’t going to have time for electives, for the most part.”

“You may be surprised.  Now, I think you’re all set, unless you’re hiding something from me?”

The students shook their heads.  

“Good.  I believe Professor Snape is expecting you?”

.

“Did that seem… weirdly easy to you?” asked Sam.  

Danny thought about it for a second.  “Not the ‘what does this plant or animal part do’ questions,” he said, finally, “but the practical part of it?  Yeah.  It was just… cooking.  Really fiddly cooking, but still cooking.”

“Speaking of,” said Tucker, “how did you get by the parts where you had to use animal body parts.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” said Sam.  “I just skipped those.  I’m pretty sure I failed, judging by the look on Professor Snape’s face.  My end result was pretty nasty-looking.  It smelled bad, too.”

“You’re the reason we were stuck in an unventilated basement breathing in burnt hair fumes?” asked Paulina.

“Yeah.  I mean, it didn’t smell like burnt hair to me, but probably.”

Paulina sighed.  “I have to hand it to you, girl, you stand by your convictions.”

“I don’t think it’s unventilated,” said Star, contemplatively. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but there was definitely movement in all the, uh, vapors, or whatever. Professor Snape totally needs a better teacher face, though.  Like, does he just have the one expression, or what?”

“No, no,” said Sam.  “The look he gave me when I turned in my disaster was way more pronounced.”

“Still needs more than disdain and mega-disdain,” said Tucker. “Even Lancer had a wider range.”

“Come on, guys,” said Danny, “he can’t be much more than, what, thirty?  He has time to develop more emotions.”

“Yeah,” said Valerie, flatly.  “Give it a couple more years, and maybe he’ll nail down hyper-disdain.”

This surprised a snicker out of everyone.  Almost everyone.

“Uh, guys?” said Dash.  “I think I might have been the one who made it smell like burnt hair.  What was it supposed to smell like?”

“I’m so glad I don’t need to breathe,” said Jazz.  

“Oh my gosh, Jazz, that’s way too soon.”

.

“What do you think?” asked the hat.  

The hat.  

Danny could understand the paintings.  He could almost understand how the paintings worked, even.  They had the shapes of people who had once lived, their image, their likeness, and had by virtue of magic snagged a piece of their soul as they left this world.

But a hat.  Who would try to give a hat sentience?  And how?  Was the thing possessed by an extraordinarily unfortunate ghost?

“Um,” said Danny, shaking off the shock.  “I liked it!”

“Sorry,” said Star, “I’m just a little surprised.   Are you really a… a hat?”

“Yes, I am the Sorting Hat!  It is my job to divine which of our four houses each of you should belong to.  Weren’t you listening?”

“We were,” assured Star, “it’s just…”

“You’re a hat,” finished Tucker.  “Did you used to be a wizard or something?”

“Goodness, no, I was Godric Gryffindor’s hat!  He enchanted me.”

“So, are you like a computer program?” continued Tucker. “Are you an AI?”

“No Skynet,” muttered Sam.  

“Why do you guys keep thinking I’m going to make Skynet?”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.  The other teachers were all present, except for the headmaster and Professor Umbridge.  Their absences had not been explained.  

“When you hear your name,” said McGonagall, “please come up and put the Sorting Hat on.  It also usually helps if you sit down on the stool.  Once the hat has determined your house, take it off, and put it down for the next person to use.”

Alright.  That sounded easy enough.  Danny wasn’t quite sure why such a big production was being made of this.  A few comments from the teachers and the ghosts—not that Danny had talked to them very much, this was the first full day they’d been at the school—suggested there was some kind of rivalry between the houses, but it couldn’t be that bad.  It was school.  

Except Casper High had its nasty cliques, too, and he could just imagine how school-sanctioned cliques would work out. Especially if they were backed up by centuries of history and a magic personality test.  

Fun.  

Not.

He hoped he, Sam, and Tucker would all be in the same house. And that Dash wouldn’t revert to being a bully as soon as other students were added to the mix.  And that…  Oh, he hoped a lot of things, but he would be thankful if the ‘school’ part of this whole ordeal was as easy and drama-free as possible.

After all, he had other things to worry about.

“Baxter, Dash,” said McGonagall, evenly.  

“Good luck, man,” said Tucker, holding up his thumbs. Everyone mirrored him.  

Dash looked very strange, sitting on that small stool, but he wasn’t on it for more than a second before the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat was very loud.  Dash returned to the bench with a confused expression on his face.

“Fenton, Daniel.”

Danny stood up slowly.  He had expected something more like a conversation.  Was this a mind reading hat?  Was the ‘take a peek inside your head’ bit literal?  

Ugh, this was going to be a pain.  Good thing he had a lot of practice in compartmentalizing.  

“Ah, a burgeoning occlumens!” said the hat in its warm voice. “How unusual.”

“I have no idea what that means,” said Danny, mildly.  

“Oh, I’m sure your teachers will explain it to you.  I won’t take the pleasure from them.”  

The voice was, Danny decided, more than half in his head, which was…  Unsettling. Voices in his head usually either meant mind control, some jerk with telepathy, or someone trying to overshadow him. He didn’t like this.  He really didn’t like this.  

“No need to be so nervous,” said the hat.  “I keep everything strictly confidential.”

“Forgive me if I’m not reassured,” said Danny.  

“Hmf.  In any case, you have traits that would do you well in any of the houses.  Perhaps not Ravenclaw, though.  As clever as you are, you are behind academically.  You need a more nurturing environment, I imagine. As for the others… You are brave. You love your friends.  You’d do anything for them?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  

“And there’s… something else you need to do?”

Danny was silent.  

“I can’t see it very clearly, but it is an important task?”

Danny shrugged.  

“A goal.”

“Sure.”

“I think, then, the choice is between the badger and the snake,” said the hat.  “But I believe the decisive phrase here is ‘do anything.’  Therefore, you will be SLYTHERIN!”

Wow.  Even bracing himself, that had been loud.

Danny stood up and carefully deposited the hat back on the stool.  He noticed on his way back to the bench that more than one teacher looked flabbergasted, and several spectating ghosts looked disappointed.  Almost crushed.  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Yes, he was a celebrity among the undead, no he couldn’t be in two houses at once. They should have prepared themselves.

Not to mention that, as important as education was, it was somewhat secondary to his true goals here.  Which the ghosts partially knew about.  

“Foley, Tucker.”

.

“I can’t believe it,” said Filius later that evening when all the teachers (sans Umbridge) gathered for a drink.  

“I did say you would find the results surprising,” said Sybill, smugly.  

“Two muggle-born American transfer students in Slytherin,” said Filius, wonderingly.  “I didn’t expect to get any of them for Ravenclaw, but Slytherin?”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t denigrate my house, Filius,” said Severus.  

The diminutive teacher waved his hand.  “Oh, that’s not my intention.  But you have to admit, it seems like a strange choice.”

“They aren’t really muggle-born, though, are they?” asked Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, opting for tea instead of wine.  “I’m not sure about the Sanchezes, but the Fentons were quite prominent, back in the day, weren’t they?  At least, one of their ancestors wrote the first English book on new world magical creatures.”

“Muggle-borns and half-bloods are chosen for Slytherin all the time,” said Severus, annoyance clearly increasing.  “Not, perhaps, as often as for the other houses, but it does happen regularly.  You don’t have to be so shocked.”

“It’s nothing against Slytherin,” assured Pomona.  “We were just expecting them to get split between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.  American stereotypes in play, I suppose.”

“Mm,” said Septima, who was doodling equations on the back of her wrist.  “On my end, my thought process was more that they wouldn’t do well trying to play catchup in Ravenclaw, and they wouldn’t have the ambition and drive to hold their own in Slytherin.  The Sorting Hat disagreed.”

“Evidently,” said Severus.  He didn’t look especially pleased, but then he never did.  

“Better you than me,” said Filius, after a few minutes.  “I can’t imagine it will be easy integrating them.”

Minerva, who had three of the students, laughed, “You aren’t getting out of it that easy, Filius.  They still have charms.  How did they do, by the way?  We never really got around to discussing it.”

“None of them were brilliant,” said Filius.  “But they have promise.  I was wondering what you all thought about doing an accelerated class for some of them, to get them to a higher year-level.”

.

Being on the Hogwarts Express without Ron at his side felt wrong.  Sure, he wasn’t entirely alone, Ginny was with him, and Hegwig, but it felt different. He felt exposed.  

Although, that might have had something to do with all the people staring and pointing at him.  

The Daily Prophet had spent most of the summer convincing everyone he was a lying show-off.  The only things that had really competed with the ‘Harry Potter is delusional’ articles were the ‘haha, America is going to hell in a handbasket, aren’t we glad we aren’t them?’ articles.  

(Harry wouldn’t have even cast a glance at the second, except that he and the others had overheard some of the Order members mention Death Eaters had been behind the attack on the muggle town.  Even so, reading them made him feel grimy.)

They had to go all the way to the end of the train to get away from the unfriendly eyes, and that’s where they found Neville.  

“Hi, Harry,” he said, out of breath.  “Hi, Ginny…  Everywhere’s full… I can’t find a seat…”

Ginny squeezed past him to look at the compartments behind him.  “What are you talking about?  There’s room in this one, there’s only Loony Lovegood in here—”

“I don’t want to disturb her—”

“Don’t be silly, she’s alright.”  She slid the door open and pulled her trunk in.  “Hi, Luna.  Is it okay if we take these seats?”

It took a couple minutes to get situated in the compartment, during which time Harry tried not to stare at Luna Lovegood very much.  The blonde girl was surrounded by an aura of almost impenetrable oddness.  

“Have a good summer, Luna?” asked Ginny.  

Luna opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, frowning. “No, actually.  My father had some friends in Amity Park.  The town in America, you know.”  She turned her head slightly.  “You’re Harry Potter.”

“I know I am,” said Harry.  

The four of them then proceeded to have a fairly enjoyable conversation, right up until Neville’s mimbulus mimbletonia sprayed them all with rancid sap and Cho Chang opened the compartment door.  

Cho Chang who he had a crush on.

Yeah.

Harry had a strong desire to curl up and die.  

Ron and Hermione did not turn up for over an hour, by which time the food trolley had come and gone, and most of the bounty acquired from it had been eaten.  

“Oh, you have food.  Brilliant,” said Ron, taking a Chocolate frog from Harry and throwing himself into the seat next to him.  “You won’t believe what happened.”

“Malfoy’s Slytherin prefect?” asked Harry.  The fear had been buzzing in the back of his head ever since Ron and Hermione had gotten their badges.  

“Well, yeah,” said Ron.  

“And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson,” said Hermione.  

“But that’s not the real surprise,” said Ron, oddly dismissive. “You remember all those articles in the Prophet?  Not the ones about you.  About that town, in America?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, some of kids who survived were wizards.”

“And witches,” added Hermione.  She pulled Crookshanks into her lap.  

“Well, apparently their ministry didn’t think they’d be safe over there, so they sent them here.  Seven of ‘em.”

“What?  They think it’s safe here?” In Hogwarts, maybe it was, except Harry had been snatched away even with all eyes on him, in the middle of a heavily attended competition.  “With Voldemort on the loose?”

Everyone flinched.  

“Well, that isn’t exactly being publicized,” said Hermione. “Not—Not in the right way.  Besides, none of them knew about magic before this summer.  They’re all our age, though.  It must have been a shock.  Especially after losing their families like that.”  She shuddered.  “We’ve been asked to help them acclimate.  That’s why the meeting ran so long.”  

“Are they in Gryffindor, then?” asked Luna.  

“They’re sort of spread out,” said Hermione.  “They’re in all the houses but Ravenclaw.”

“And I’m still not sure how they got put into Slytherin if they’re muggleborn,” said Ron, who had tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.  “It doesn’t make sense,” he complained.

“Merlin was muggleborn,” said Luna.  “He was a Slytherin.  I’m sure there were others.”

Ron pulled a face.  

(Harry thought about Voldemort—About Tom Riddle and his muggle father.)

“Anyway,” said Hermione.  “We have three of them.  Hufflepuff and Slytherin each have two.”

First Death Eaters in America, and now Slytherins from there?  Harry shook himself internally.  No, it probably didn’t mean anything.  

“We probably won’t see much of them,” said Ron.  “They’re taking mostly remedial classes.  First and second year stuff.”

“Say,” said Luna, “do you know who the prefects are for the other houses?”

“Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,” said Hermione.  

“And Ernie Macmillian and Hannah Abbot for Hufflepuff,” added Ron.  “You know, other than helping keep track of the younger kids and patrolling corridors every so often, there’s not really much we’re supposed to do as prefects.  From how Percy talked about it, I always sort of thought there’d be more.”  Then he grinned.  “We can give punishments out if people are misbehaving.  I can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something…”

Predictably, this set off Hermione.

.

“There’s nothing else about the Americans?” asked Draco, frowning. “I’m not sure how we’re expected to ‘help them acclimate’ with so little information.”

The Head Girl rolled her eyes.  “You’re expected to talk to them,” she said.  “Considering that they’re real human beings and all. They’ve been through a lot, apparently, and I can appreciate them not wanting to have it spread around.”

Unspoken was the ‘do you?’ at the end of her sentence.  Draco let his lip curl.  People from other houses were always so eager to think the worst of Slytherin when all they were trying to be was logical.  

“I’ll do that, then,” said Draco, stepping out of the prefects’ carriage.  He needed to find Crabbe and Goyle.  Annoying. As much as he was their leader, and he watched them, they were also there to watch him and—

(Draco chose not to think of the people who had arrived at Malfoy Manor over the Summer, of the things he’d seen.)

(When he was quite young, he’d read a book about muggle Germany during the time of Grindelwald, and how Grindelwald had subtly influenced things in that country.  He’d always been struck by the use of informants, of how everyone had been convinced to watch one another and report those who stepped out of line.  He found he could appreciate it even more now that he was inside a similar trap.)

But the Americans.  It was so odd.  They couldn’t have any lineage to speak of.  Not if they were living like muggles in some backwater town.  

… some backwater town the Dark Lord had seen fit to destroy.

… ‘Fenton’ sounded vaguely familiar.  

… Perhaps ‘Sanchez’ was from a Spanish pureblood line.

Draco would have to do research.  He was good at that.  But whatever he found, he’d have to keep an eye on the Americans.  

If nothing else, it would be good to have friends overseas.

.

“We’ll be in different dorms after this,” said Danny, vaguely depressed.  “Different classes, too, most of the time.”

“We can still see each other during the day,” said Sam.  “I think the only meal that’s segregated by house is dinner, anyway.  We should be able to hang out at all the other times.”

Danny sighed.  He had yet to have much success in his missions.  

He’d felt something wrong on the seventh floor, but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it.  He’d found a giant inaccessible dungeon full of snake statues, a snake skeleton, and a number of other somewhat questionable things underneath the school. There had been an echo of something there, but whatever it was had been long gone by the time Danny got there. He also had the faint sense of a ghost—a real ghost—beginning to form there, and he hoped he hadn’t messed it up by spreading his ectoplasm around.  

On the second front, he hadn’t heard anything from any of the leaders of the wizarding world.  Unless he counted a reply from a secretary who thought he was disturbed.  

But there was one bright spot.  They’d met the Headmaster yesterday, and Danny was certain the man’s wand was one of the two subjects of his third quest.  Which was hilarious.  Out of everything, he’d thought the Hallows would be the hardest to find.  

Not that he could just take it.  Not now.  Not yet. Not with everything else still so uncertain and Clockwork’s quiet assurance that he would find most of what he needed to at Hogwarts.  

(Clockwork and the Lady had made a deal with him, bound in old magic and ghost law.  Three tasks. Three nearly impossible quests, but at the end of them, the one who had destroyed half of his world, who had harmed his people, would be gone, and in the meantime Amity Park would be protected. Danny knew he had gotten the better half of the deal, with Clockwork practically on his side.  Even with the… other requirements.  Still, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged.)

So, he’d stay, and wait, and keep a careful eye on the Headmaster, and try to find the thing on the seventh floor, and figure out what spells worked on ghosts and if he could circumvent them, and figure out how to intercept at least one magical head of state, and, and, and…

Ugh.  

“If we aren’t too busy,” said Danny.  

“You know we’re here to help,” said Tucker, prodding Danny’s side.  “And even if the rest of them don’t know about, you know, I think they’d be willing to help, too.”

“Within reason,” said Sam.  

It was true.  Surviving near-death experiences together tended to make people—well.  Not necessarily friends, but something more than mere acquaintances.  Allies, at the very least.

(Especially if a lot of other people had died at the same time, and the survivors were holding on to the relationships they still had with all their strength.)

“I know,” said Danny.  He bit his lip.  “There’s something on the seventh floor, I think.  Need more time to figure out what, though.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” promised Sam.  

“And an ear, too,” said Tucker, tapping his.  “I’m sure there’ll be lots of rumors and legends in a place like this.”

“Me too.  Jazz has been interrogating the paintings, you know.”  He frowned.  “They’re so weird.”

“Everything about this is weird,” said Sam.  “Can’t believe we thought ghosts were the whole extent of the supernatural.  It seems so dumb, now.”

“Not really,” said Danny.  “I mean, ghosts were all that we saw, and they didn’t really mention anything else.”  He sighed. “Guess we should get ready for the feast or whatever?”

“Yeah,” said Sam, standing.  “Good luck meeting your classmates.  Housemates?  How are we even supposed to say that?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “At least we each have at least one person from Casper with us.”

“That’s true,” said Tucker.  “Can’t say I feel like I have much in common with Star, though. Other than,” he gestured, vaguely, “all the Amity Park stuff.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “And you think I have a lot in common with Dash?”

“You have a lot in common with Valerie,” offered Tucker.

Sam shrugged.  “We do both fight ghosts.”

Tucker’s grin turned slightly wicked.  “And have a crush on the same guy.”

“Take a walk off a

Danny let himself smile.  It had been a while since the three of them had gotten some good banter in. It was hard to verbally spar when you were depressed.  

.

Sitting next to Paulina at an otherwise empty table felt strange.  But it would feel even stranger to sit not next to Paulina at the very large empty table.  Danny let his eyes drift over to the other three house tables.  It seemed that the others were of the same opinion, sitting together in little, painfully awkward clusters.  

All the close friend groups had been pulled apart, after all.

“Danny,” said Paulina.  Her voice wavered at the end.

“Yeah?”

“The wizard kids will have cliques.”

“I mean, yeah, they’re still human, right?”  And even ghosts formed groups.  

Paulina nodded and clenched her jaw.  “We’re going to get into one,” she said, firmly.  “We’ll have to find the best one, and fast, otherwise we’ll wind up at the bottom of the pecking order.  You know how much that sucks.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, his eyebrows raised.  He was a little surprised to be included.  

“The wizards we’ve met so far are pretty weird.  You know how to deal with weird.”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “Is this a strategy thing?  Isn’t it a bit too late for that?”

“It’s never too late to salvage social standing, and we haven’t even started,” said Paulina.  “Anyway, you’re the backup plan, in case they’re aliens who don’t fall for my charm.”  She put a hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes.

“Should we even use charm like that here?  I mean, since it’s a class, now.”

“Hmf.  I’m good at that, too.”  She examined her fingernails.  “We’ll probably attract a bunch of people, just because we’re here and visible and new.  We just need to make sure that people stay interested in us.”

“I’m not sure I want attention, Paulina.”

“Then pay attention and follow my lead.  If you’re in the right clique, you can fade into the background.  Like Star. No one notices the stuff she gets up to. They’re all too focused on yours truly. As they should be.”

This was true, actually.  People didn’t really pay any attention to Star, except in her person as Paulina’s satellite.  Even Danny, before becoming Phantom and gaining a new perspective on life and the people in it, hadn’t.  

“Besides,” continued Paulina, “now that we, well.” She didn’t quite blush.  “You guys don’t suck as much as I thought you did.”

“Uh, thanks.  You, too?”

Wow.  That was quite possibly the worst response he could have had.  

Paulina sighed heavily.  

However, she was distracted from whatever she might have said to him by the first of the Hogwarts students coming in.  Paulina turned her attention away, her eyes flicking from one set of green and silver highlights to the next.  Whenever a student looked their way she smiled and waved, pouring on the charm.  

Danny didn’t know how she did it.  Social engineering was never going to be his strong point.

(Perhaps he could set Paulina and Star on the Minister of Magic’s trail.  They might have more luck.)

Before he could follow the train of thought, they were surrounded.  In a simply physical sense.  There was no malice and very little aggression from the students that sat near them, more than one of whom had prefects badges.  Still, Danny did have to fight down a knee-jerk reaction.  He saw Paulina shift uncomfortably as well, and he gave her robe what he hoped was a steadying tug.  

She returned it with a tight smile.  

There wasn’t much time to talk before Professor McGonagall stood up with the hat and started calling names.  Everyone went very quiet during the sorting, except for the cheer that rose with the hat’s every shout.  

Then there was food.  A lot of food.  Most of it was recognizable, but some of it was sort of weird.  Many things were pumpkin flavored.  There was even something Danny was fairly certain was pumpkin juice.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Paulina took the time to engage in social engineering. Danny took the time to watch.  They were both watched back, of course, but Paulina naturally drew more attention.  

However, there was one boy who kept staring at Danny. He was about their age and had pale blonde hair.  Really pale blonde hair.  

(Danny had thought Star and Dash were blonde.)

“You’re Daniel Fenton, correct?” asked the boy.  

“Um.  Yes. And you are?”

“Draco Malfoy.  I’m the fifth-year prefect.”

“Oh, Draco like the constellation?”

Draco blinked.  “Yes.”

“Did your parents like astronomy a lot, then?”

“Astrology,” corrected Draco.  “Astronomy is what muggles do.”

Danny carefully forced down the white-hot rage he felt at that statement.  Yeah, he had more than a normal admiration for astronomy, and, therefore, a more intense than normal reaction to astronomy and astrology being confused, but magic was real, apparently, so maybe astrology wasn’t useless.  Right.  Yeah.  And they were both about stars, planets, and space. Nothing to get mad at.

“It’s been a tradition in my mother’s family for generations,” Draco was saying, “although we occasionally make some allowances for other traditions.  My mother’s name is Narcissa, for example.  Is there anything similar in your family?”

“Dad’s side does ‘J’ names for the first born.  Jazz got stuck with that.”

The boy’s eyebrows went up.  “You have a sister?  She isn’t magical?”

“Magical enough to haunt me,” said Danny.  

“Pardon?”

“She died.  She’s around here somewhere, though.”  He gestured vaguely.  “Didn’t want to be around big crowds.  I think she said she was going to hang out with Myrtle?”

“Myrtle?  Do you mean Moaning Myrtle?  Who haunts the bathrooms?”

This time, the reaction Danny suppressed was a cringe, the emotion embarrassment on behalf of the young witch ghost.  “She just introduced herself as Myrtle.  Well, Myrtle Warren, but…  Yeah.  It’s kind of rude to describe someone as moaning, isn’t it?”

The boy puffed up, slightly, clearly offended.  

Oh, dear.  

.

The Americans were… interesting, Harry thought.  

Ron and Hermione had sat near them as part of their ‘prefect duties,’ with Harry and therefore Ginny and Neville following after.  

Well.  That may have had more to do with curiosity than anything else.  

They introduced themselves by their first names only. Dash, Valerie, and Sam.  Dash was… well.  Harry had encountered people like him both before and after coming to Hogwarts.  For example, McClaggen.  Harry hadn’t ever interacted much with McClaggen, even if they were in the same house, but Dash definitely gave off the same feeling.  Meanwhile, Valerie just sort of glared at everyone, resisting all attempts at conversation while tearing at her food with extreme aggression.  Sam had managed to engage Hermione and Katie Bell in a conversation about dark magic that was getting Hermione progressively more flustered.  

Harry couldn’t tell if it was because of the misconceptions Sam had about magic in general, or because Sam seemed to think some kinds of dark magic should be legal.  

He was starting to get a very bad feeling about these Americans.

.

“Hey,” whispered Tucker, while the students around them were distracted by something a rather round ghost was saying.  

“What?” whispered Star.

“Is it just me, or is everyone here sort of depressed? Like, I can understand us being depressed, but…”

“No, no it’s not just you.  Wasn’t there something about a student death?  Some kind of freak accident.”

“Oh,” said the student sitting across from them.  “You heard about Cedric.”

.

Danny wondered if he could get to the Minister of Magic through Dolores Umbridge.  He hadn’t gotten a good read on her during their very brief encounters the previous week, but now...  She gave off the impression of having some kind of political power.  His understanding was that the headmaster had a lot of influence among the wizards and witches of this country, so for her to be interrupting him like that…

Or maybe he was like Danny and weak against social awkwardness.

Also, her speech seemed to have a deeper meaning he couldn’t decode.  He didn’t understand wizarding culture or their political climate enough, despite his research.

Eh.  He’d have to get a better grasp of her personality and position.  Hopefully, that wouldn’t be too hard.  He did have a class with her.  

.

“The events of last spring have left a mark on the whole school,” said Severus Snape into the muffled quiet of the Slytherin common room, his voice just barely more emotive than during the placement test he had given the Casper High students, “and no doubt on many of your home lives as well. I want you to know that if you have any… concerns… regarding the behaviors of fellow students or… more sensitive topics, you can come to me.”

The man blinked slowly at them.  

“That is all,” he said, finally, and with an overly dramatic swish of his cloak he departed.  

The room quickly filled with light chatter, students breaking off into little cliques, some of them slipping away down shadowy corridors.

Paulina tugged him towards one of those groups.  

“Hi, Pansy,” she said, giving the girl a little wave, “hi, Draco.  We were wondering if you guys could show us around?  We were told our stuff would be moved here, but…”  She trailed off, shrugging elegantly.  

Danny tried to echo the movement.  

He most likely did not succeed.

(It wasn’t like he could tell.  His superpowers did not include seeing himself from the outside—Or maybe they did.  There could be a spell for that, he supposed.)

He had to admit, as the prefects made a (just slightly supercilious) show of presenting the Slytherin dormitories to them, that he rather liked the space.  It was surprisingly well-ventilated and warm, but there was still a general air of closeness, of security of bone-deep chill that spoke so well to his ghost half.  

Of course, a lot of that would probably evaporate once Danny tried to sleep in a room with half a dozen strangers, but, well, he’d deal with that when he got there.

.

Magic was great and all, but Tucker would trade it all away in a second if only to get his PDA to work properly.  

In the tent formed by his bedsheet and his body, Tucker hissed and rapped on the staticky screen, hoping an impact adjustment would do… something.  He didn’t know what.  The last three hadn’t done anything.  

The way the metal casing was heating up under his hand was disturbing.  Quickly, he thumbed the power button.  He didn’t have a lot of these left, and he wanted to be able to use them to communicate with Danny and Sam.  He missed their late-night Doom sessions.  

(Along with everything else about his life in Amity Park. He at least had the power to make talking to his friends possible.  The rest? Not so much.)

He groaned into his pillow.  He’d been working on this off and on all week.  Another night wouldn’t matter in the long run.  

Maybe one of his classes would help him understand what he was doing wrong.

.

Sam had sort of enjoyed needling Hermione (the girl reminded her a lot of Jazz), even if she knew she shouldn’t, but the nasty fight between some of the fifth year boys in the common room had really ruined the mood. Hermione’s friend, Harry, was apparently some sort of celebrity.  Like, in the same way Phantom had been a celebrity following Walker’s invasion.  

So.  Not really a great thing for him.  

Ugh.  Sympathy. Feelings.  She sighed and stared up at the red and gold ceiling.  If the color scheme didn’t do her in…

.

Danny met Jazz in the air over the school.  

“I didn’t see you much today,” he said, twisting hands that he is keeping carefully transparent.

“Yeah,” said Jazz.  “I’m just…  I’m still adjusting.  I think you’ll like Myrtle, by the way.  She’s lonely, but fun.  I think there might actually be a bit of ectoplasm in her, believe it or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  She can flood the toilets, apparently.  Although… I’m not sure if she meant the toilets themselves, or just the room in general.”  She frowned. “Because she said something about sinks…”  She shook her head.  “Not important.  Want to hear what she told me about the secret underground room and the giant snake skeleton?  Not to mention all the other ridiculous stuff that’s happened here.  If this is ‘safer,’ I don’t want to know what the rest of the wizarding world is like.”

“Like what happened in Amity, I guess,” said Danny. “But!  Yes.  Please tell me what you found out.”

.

Breakfast was nice.  Especially when Sam, Danny, and Tucker compared schedules and realized that they had more classes together than they expected.  Not with all three of them at once, but even just two of them together was better than nothing.  

Yes, they got a lot of strange looks, especially when Jazz joined them.  Evidently, eating breakfast with people from other houses just wasn’t done.  Which was stupid, in Sam’s opinion.  Actually, the whole house system felt increasingly stupid to Sam.  She just didn’t understand the point.  Was it for sports?

It was probably for sports.  Sports were the root of all evil.  Just look at Dash.  He hadn’t had any sports for a whole Summer, and now he was acting like an actual decent human being.  

Okay.  That reasoning was suspect.  Sam would have to come back to this when she was more awake.  Early mornings were the worst.  

Anyway.  She had an acceptable breakfast with her friends and the people she’d grown to tolerate, then she set out to find History.  

Which is how she overheard the conversation between Hermione and her friends.  

“What’s S.P.E.W.?” she asked.

Hermione’s two friends glared at Sam.  Probably for the sin of eating with people from another house. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well,” said Hermione, just slightly hesitant.  “It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare…”

(Sam found a new cause to get incandescently angry about. Wizard society sucked.)

.

Harry was surprised to see five of the Americans, the three Gryffindors and the two Slytherins, standing by the door to Defense Against the Dark Arts, quietly talking to each other.  

“What’re they doing, then?” asked Ron, scowling. “Consorting with the enemy?”

“Honestly, Ron,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.  “They aren’t the enemy.  And they’re from the same place.  It must be difficult, being so far away from home.”

Ron grunted and shrugged.  “What d’you think Umbridge’ll be like, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject.  

They filed into the classroom, the remainder of the class, including the Slytherins, their green looking horribly out of place amongst all the red trim, following shortly after.  No one knew what Umbridge would be like, regarding punishment, so they didn’t want to immediately get on her bad side.  

“Well,” she said, in a sickly-sweet tone, “good afternoon!”

There was a mumbled response.  

Umbridge said “Tut, tut.”  She actually said tut tut.  Out loud.  “That won’t do, now, will it?  I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’  One more time, please.  Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” said the class, in something approaching unison and the least enthusiastic tone Harry had heard since Ron had tried to convince Hermione to help him with his Divination homework last year.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge.  “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?  Wands away and quills out, please.”

Many of the students exchanged gloomy or exasperated looks. Lessons without wands tended to be uninteresting, with very few exceptions.  

(Instead of quills, the Americans produced pencils and pens from their bookbags.)

Umbridge opened her handbag and pulled out her own wand, which was as stubby as she was, and tapped the blackboard.  Words appeared on the board at once:  Defense Against the Dark Arts, A Return to Basic Principles.

Harry couldn’t quite repress a groan.  Luckily, he wasn’t the only one.  

“Well now, your teaching in this subject had been rather disrupted, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge.  She turned to face the class, her eyes briefly lingering on Harry, and then the Americans.  “Or completely nonexistent.  The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

“You will be pleased to know, however,” she continued, still acting like she was talking to kindergarteners, “that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year.”

Each word Umbridge spoke made Harry’s heart drop farther. How could Dumbledore let this woman teach them?  This year?  When knowing how to fight dark magic was more important than ever?

Umbridge rapped the board again, and new words appeared. Course aims:  1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. 2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.  3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.  

Oh.  This year was going to be bad.  As for the day, it got worse when Umbridge assigned a reading from what had to be the dullest book Harry had ever read.  Including that one time—No.  Focus.

He massaged his temples and wondered if he needed to get a new prescription for his glasses.  The words on the page refused to stay sharp.  

Harry looked up when the Americans started to whisper among themselves and caught sight of one of the most shocking things he had ever witnessed: Hermione not reading.  

Soon, everyone was staring either at Hermione or the Americans, who had left off whispering after some pointed glaring from Umbridge but had replaced the whispers with passionate gesturing at something in the back of the book.  Those, too, died down after a while, in favor of looking at Hermione.  

Eventually, Umbridge could no longer ignore the situation.  

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?”

“Not about the chapter, no.”

“Well, we’re reading just now.”  Umbridge smiled.  It wasn’t pleasant.  “If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” said Hermione, undeterred.  

“And your name is—?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.”  

“Well, I don’t.  There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

“There’s nothing in the book about using spells, either!” said the Slytherin boy, waving his copy angrily.  “There aren’t even any of the, um.”  He paused and looked at Sam for a second.  

“Incantations,” said Sam.  “I mean, that’s what I’d call them?  I don’t know the official term.”

Umbridge inhaled through her teeth.  

“Using defensive spells?” she asked, voice pitched unnaturally high.  “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss—”

“And what about outside of the classroom?” interrupted the Slytherin boy.  

“Like, this is supposed to teach us how to not die, right?” asked the girl next to him, examining her fingernails.  

“You have to practice self-defense to actually get good at it,” agreed Valerie, crossing her arms.  “What’s the point of this class if we’re not going to actually learn how to do stuff?”

“Yes,” agreed Hermione, “surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”

“Students,” gritted Umbridge, “will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class.”

At once, a dozen hands went up.

“Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked, voice dangerous.  

“Isn’t the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to practice defensive spells?”

“Miss Granger,” said Umbridge.  “As you are not a Ministry-trained educational expert, you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of this, or any, class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have—”

“I really doubt that,” interjected Ron.  

Umbridge took another deep breath.  “You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—”

“What’s the use of that?” demanded Harry, loudly.  “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a—”

“Hand, Mr. Potter!”

Predictably, Umbridge turned her back on him as soon as he thrust his fist into the air.  Instead, she called on Dean Thomas.  

(The part of Harry’s brain that wasn’t vibrating in frustration noted that the Americans were passing notes between each other.)

“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” he asked, once she had gotten done with interrogating him about his name.  “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free—”

“Do you expect to be attacked in class?”

Harry was very tempted to say yes, considering that three of his four previous DADA teachers had wound up attacking him.  

… Did Professor Lupin’s werewolf form having a go at him bring the count up to four?

Umbridge talked over Dean.  “I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” she said, with the air of someone who was about to do just that, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

The Slytherin boy stood up, chair scraping across the floor. Sam, next to him, had gone pale. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her wand.  

“Sit down, Mr.-?”

“I’m leaving,” said the boy, not deigning to give Umbridge his name.  He picked up his bag.  “Maybe I can sit in on an actually useful lesson.  I mean, if I can figure out how to make a pineapple tap dance, I can get it to fly into someone’s face.  At least that’s something.”

“Sit down,” repeated Umbridge.  “I do not know what your classmates have told you, but you, all of you,” she said to the class, “have been frightened into believe that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—”

“We haven’t been frightened into believing anything!” exclaimed Dash, also rising from his seat.  “Our entire city was attacked!  We need—"

“Which was a tragedy.  One that is unlikely to be repeated!  Now, sit down.”

The other Americans stood up.  

“We heard about Cedric Diggory, you know,” said the Slytherin girl, coldly.  “And a lot of the people who attacked us were never caught.”

“We also know about the giant murder snake that apparently lived here,” said the boy.  

“I, for one, can’t believe that wizards are less likely to be murders than any other human,” said Valerie.  “If normal people need to take self-defense classes, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to.”

“The government preventing people from learning how to defend themselves is historically a bad sign,” said Sam.  “Of course, slavery is also a bad sign, and you all have been ignoring that for God only knows how long.  There are actual slaves in this school.”

“Wait,” said the Slytherin boy, horrified.  “Are you serious?  Is that what you were talking about before?  Oh my God—"

“Children!” exclaimed Umbridge.  “Your hands are not up.”  

The looks Umbridge got after that outburst were filled with incredulity, not

Parvati Patil raised her hand.  

“Yes?” asked Umbridge.

Harry was beginning to wonder if she was looking for punishment.  

“Isn’t there supposed to be a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to—”

The room exploded into a flurry of objections, spurred on by the Americans.  

“Who exactly do you think is going to attack you?” shouted Umbridge over the ruckus.  

“I don’t know!” shouted Harry back, even though part of him knew this was a bad idea.  “How about Lord Voldemort?”

Silence.  

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter?”

“Points?” whispered Dash.  No one else spoke.  

The Slytherin boy was looking at Harry with something like hunger in his eyes.  

“Now, let me make a few quite plain.  You have been told that a certain Dark wizard had returned from the dead—”

“He wasn’t dead,” said Harry, “but yeah, he’s returned!”

“Do not make matters worse for yourself, Mr. Potter!” exclaimed Umbridge shrilly.  “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.”

“It is NOT a lie!  I saw him! I fought him!”

Glee spread across Umbridge’s toad-like face. “Detention, Mr. Potter.  Tomorrow evening.  Five—  What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um,” said the Slytherin boy, who like the rest of the Americans was halfway to the door.  “Leaving. Like we said?”  He hadn’t stopped walking.

“You will do no such thing!  All five of you will be joining Mr. Potter for detention.”

“Pass.”  His eyes flicked towards Harry again.

“Excuse me?”

“We have better things to do than humor someone who’s refusing to do their job,” said Sam.  

The classroom doors slammed shut right in front of the Slytherin boy’s nose, and he took half a step back.  

“Tomorrow evening, at five o’clock, all six of you will join me for detention in my office.  Now.  The rumors of that Dark wizard’s return are lies.  The Ministry guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard.  If you are still worried, if someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, come see me outside of class hours, I would like to hear about it.  I am here to help.  I am your friend.  Now, kindly, continue your reading.  Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’”

The Americans slunk back to their seats but pulled a variety of colorful transfiguration textbooks from their bags instead of Defensive Magical Theory.

With an air of triumph, Umbridge sat down behind her desk.

Harry stood up.  

“Harry, no!” whispered Hermione, tugging at his sleeve.

Harry ignored her.  (Which was, in all honesty, a stupid move.  Ignoring Hermione rarely had positive consequences.)

(In his defense, the preceding several minutes had been… stressful.)

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?”

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accid—”

“Just like Amity Park, huh?”

“A tragic accident,” continued Umbridge, voice full of ice.  

“It was murder.”  Harry was shaking.  He felt like he was under a spotlight, and he wanted to be anywhere but here, talking about this.  “Voldemort killed him, and you know it.”

For a second, Harry thought Umbridge would start screaming, but instead her lips curled up into a parody of a smile.  “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.”

As Harry walked forward, Umbridge started scribbling on a small, pink, piece of paper, angled so that Harry couldn’t see what she was writing.  Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Harry flinched.  

The…  What were they even doing?  Why were they sitting like that?

“Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Umbridge, holding out a roll of pink paper.  

Harry took it from her without a word, turned on his heel, threw open the door, and—

Was almost trampled by the Americans all escaping the room at once.  

Dash grabbed him by the upper arm, and soon all six of them were running down the hallway.  It took several seconds for Umbridge to start shrieking, and, by that point, the Slytherin boy had pulled them all into a secret passage that someone who hadn’t been at Hogwarts for even a month shouldn’t know about.  

“Wow,” said Sam.  “You work fast, Danny.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, giving her a thumbs up.  “Got to thank the Bloody Baron, though.”  He paused.  “Still can’t believe that’s his actual name…”

“Sorry about dragging you with us, by the way,” said the Slytherin girl.  “I’m Paulina. This is Danny.  You already know these three, I think?”

“Er,” said Harry, not at all sure how to deal with this situation.  Part of him just wanted to shout.  He was still vibrating with suppressed rage.  

“I didn’t really catch your name in all that, though,” she continued, gesturing behind them.  

“It’s Harry.  Potter.”

It was… interesting, how his name didn’t spark any recognition in them.  At least not at first.  Then Danny stiffened and—

“The poltergeist is coming this way,” he said, mildly.  

“You can tell?” asked Paulina.

“I could always tell.  Why do you think I was always in the bathroom when ghosts were around?”

Valerie scowled, and shot a truly venomous glare at her watch.

“Do you think we can convince him to bug Umbridge?” asked Sam.

Danny shot a look of surprise at her.  Then he smiled.  “Maybe,” he said.  He turned back to Harry.  “It was nice meeting you.  I hope we can talk again sometime.  It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and, well…”  He shrugged.

Harry suddenly remembered that the Americans were here, for the most part, because their families were dead.

“But you should probably track down Professor McGonagall sooner than later.  I’d bet that Umbridge put a timer on that.  If that’s possible.  Is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, suddenly a hundred times more anxious about the paper clenched in his hand.  

“Gosh, imagine if Lancer could do that,” said Dash.

“I’d take Lancer any day,” said Danny.  “He actually tried to teach stuff.  Anyway, I’m going to go head off Peeves.  You might want to go around.  I hear he can be kind of a jerk?”

“Right,” said Harry, walking further down the secret passage, because he had been here for a proper length of time and had learned about it properly.  

… Although he supposed that asking the ghosts was a proper way to go about learning the secret passages.  

No, he had to focus on how to explain getting kicked out of class to Professor McGonagall, not on the weirdest interaction with Slytherins he’d had to date.

[tethrarisms]

I apologize in advance but @hoaryhoggoths​ and I created this Doomstrange x Good Omens AU and everything fits like a glove, I can’t.

Hear us out:

Aziraphale = Stephen

Crowley = Doom

Anathema = Wanda

Newt = Vision

Warlock = Valeria Richards

Warlock’s parents: Sue and Reed

Adam Young = Illyana Rasputin

Adam’s parents: Charles and Erik

Archangel Gabriel = Steve Rogers

Sandalphon = Tony Stark

Michael = Namor

Uriel = T'Challa

Pepper = Zelma

Wensleydale = Billy Kaplan

Brian = Nico Minoru

Sister Mary Loquacious = Scott Lang

Madame Tracy = Natasha

Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell = Bucky

Death = Death

Pollution = Oblivion

Famine = Eternity

War = Infinity

Beelzebub = Emma Frost

Hastur = Daimon

Ligur = Satana

Satan = Mephisto/Belasco

God = Vishanti

Stephen is the dumb angel who is both very smart and stupid, also he’s afraid of the Vishanti. Yet, he gives the Eye of Agamotto to Adam and Eve because he’s so caring and naive. And Doom immediately falls in love with him the moment he says “I GAVE IT AWAY”. Stephen call his bookshop “the Sanctum Sanctorum” but he hates having clients. He loves his old tomes very much. Also he loves food, mostly tea. Victor hates when Stephen says that “Vishanti’s plan is ineffable,” tho.

Doom, on the other hand, is very practical but he doesn’t like being a demon. He didn’t mean to fall, he just wanted to save his mother’s figure from hell and thus was cast away. The fall burned and scarred his face, this is why he wears sunglasses all the time. Everyone blames him for the misery he put humanity through but actually he does nothing wrong ever (the only exception being when he plays god with his plants). “GROW BETTAAAAH”, he screams dramatically. Doom was once a very powerful archangel and created Alpha Centauri. Now he just grows more and more attached to the dumb angel at Greenwich Village.

When Satana and Daimon gave the Antichrist (Illyana) to Victor, he left the baby in Father Lang’s hands. He was supposed to switch the US Ambassador and wife’s (Reed and Sue Richards) child and the Antichrist, but he screwed things up. Illyana ended up going to Erik and Charles’ home, while Valeria became Sue and Reed’s child. The third child is unkown to us.

Stephen and Victor then, intending to avoid doomsday, have this brilliant idea to infiltrate the Richards’ Baxter Mansion and being figures of bad and good influence to Valeria. Victoria is now her nanny, while Brother Steven is the gardner. Victoria will sing lullabies about conquering the world and crushing enemies, while Brother Steven will say: “Don’t listen to her. Listen to me.”

When they conclude their mission, they return to their regular activities, believing Valeria will not become the Antichrist. Except they’re wrong. During Valeria’s 11th birthday party, they expected the hellhound to appear. But it never shows up. “Wrong child.”

The hellhound finds Illyana, who names it Bats. Nico, Billy and Zelma are Illy’s best friends and they’re inseparable. Charles and Erik are worried about Illy, but they try their best to be good parents.

In the meantime, Wanda Maximoff flies to America in order to find the Antichrist. She carries her family’s legacy: witchcraft and the book called Darkhold. Interestingly enough, Wanda loses the Darkhold when Victor hits her with his car. Wanda only accepts their aid because she’s so sure they’re a gay couple. “Come on, angel.” Oh, everything makes sense now. Also Victor is so bitter, he keeps teasing Stephen for performing miracles. “Oh, Vishanti, heal this bike.”

We’re also introduced to Vision, a synthezoid who, ironically enough, is bad with computers. Vision meets an old man named Sergeant Bucky who is very committed to find and burn witches. He lives next to Madame Natasha, whom he despises for her profession. Bucky hires Vision as a witchfinder.

Meanwhile, Archangel Steve Rogers and Tony go visit Stephen in the Sanctum regarding the Antichrist. They’re bad at playing humans. “Thank you for my pornography!” Tony yells for everyone to hear. “You can’t make a war without war! That’s brilliant, Tony!”, Steve says. There are other angels, such as T’Challa and Namor. Rumors say they’re called the Illuminati.

As doomsday approaches, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rise: Eternity, Infinity, Oblivion and Death.

Finding out that Doom lied about the Antichrist, Satana and Daimon Hellstrom go haunt Victor. Satana ends up dead (but not really because these two always come back). White Queen of Hell Emma Frost is not pleased, though. Good thing her demonic group called The Cabal was in cahoots with one of the Illuminati, the archangel Namor.

As things get more complicated, Stephen and Victor have an argument. Victor wants to go to Alpha Centauri and Stephen is afraid of betraying Heaven.

"How long have been acquaintances?"

"Acquaintances? We're not acquaintances. We're an angel and a demon."

Victor tries to convince him one last time but Stephen is adamant. “We can run away together. Alpha Centauri!” When Stephen refuses once more, Victor is tired and angry and frustrated. “I’m going home, Angel. And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”

Victor, obviously, can’t live without Stephen. So of course he goes back to the Sanctum, only to find it in flames. He’s desperate, mostly because he knows the pain of being burned, but Stephen is nowhere to be found. “SOMEONE KILLED MY BEST FRIEND! FOOLS! ALL OF YOU!” He then saves the only book that didn’t become ash, the Darkhold.

Stephen, on the other hand, accidentally goes to Heaven and returns to Earth without a body. He then, after reassuring Victor, possesses Madame Natasha and, with Sergeant Bucky’s help, go after the Antichrist.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are defeated by Nico, Billy and Zelma. Illy fixes Stephen’s body situation. Emma and Steve, on the other hand, are not pleased, but they can’t make a point about Vishanti’s ineffable plan. Mephisto/Belasco then appear, which makes Doom loses all hope. “We’re fucked!” he utters. Stephen is not convinced and forces Victor to act, or he’ll never talk to him again. Victor curses and stops time itself so they can come up with a plan. They show their true form (their wings are huge and beautiful) and hold Illyana’s hands. When the devil comes for her, the girl shouts that they’re not her dad. She keeps yelling until it becomes true. Her dads, after all, are Erik and Charles.

Heaven and Hell then want their revenge on Stephen and Victor, but they swap  bodies. Victor laughst at Steve, T’Challa and Tony’s faces when they try to burn him, while Stephen is having so much fun in the bathtub filled with holy water, courtesy of Namor

When all is over, they bodyswap back and have a very pleasant date at the Ritz.

“I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit of a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a fool to be worth knowing.”

“To the world.”

---

I might be forgetting something but!!! BUT!!! THIS!!

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (2)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

I’m really proud of this chapter. It’s some of my best work, maybe ever. Also, in case you missed, this fic will be updated every Sunday, so check back in next weekend for chapter three! 

*****

“So,” Riley began as she dropped her arm-load of overflowing paper grocery bags on her slate gray granite kitchen counter. Mercifully, the feds hadn’t connected Riley to any of her aliases after her arrest, so her overpriced Santa Monica penthouse apartment was exactly as she left it. 

Well, not exactly the same. After Riley’s arrest, Nikki had thrown out all her food and hung up the laundry Riley had left in a pile on her bedroom floor. She’d also paid Riley’s bills, which led to a whole argument in the grocery store that Riley knew they’d be rehashing later. 

“If Leanna’s out, then we need a new member,” Riley said. “Otherwise we’ll have to rename the team ‘Four Eyes,’ and I’m not about to do that.” 

Nikki snickered, haphazardly unloading groceries into the fridge. “Why not? You’re a nerd. It’s fitting.” 

“Bold words for the only one of us who wears glasses.” 

“They’re blue light glasses, you asshole. My vision is just fine.” 

Riley gave her a shit-eating grin. Whatever you say. 

Putting the groceries away took forever; Riley bought way more food than any one person needed. She couldn’t wipe Nikki’s disapproving face from her mind—the one that accompanied comments about Riley being too skinny. Nikki was just looking out for her, she knew, but that didn’t make Riley hate the scrutiny any less. 

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Riley asked, “Do you have anyone in mind?” To replace Leanna, she didn’t need to say. Nikki chewed her lower lip nervously. “Who is it, Nik?” 

“It’s a long shot, but this girl I work with. Jill Morgan.” 

Riley frowned. “We don’t need a third techie.” 

“She’s not that.” Riley raised an eyebrow. “I mean, she is, but Jill is nothing compared to you or me,” Nikki quickly corrected. “Before she got the IT job, Jill worked for LAPD as a forensic analyst.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“Apparently she is one of the best in all of SoCal, but LAPD fired her after someone caught her using evidence from a closed case to conduct research for the crime novel she’s writing. No police department would touch her after that, so she managed to swing the IT job in the most bullshit interview I’ve ever sat in on.” Nikki crossed her arms. “Jill obviously didn’t know how to do half the things she said she did, but she managed to convince our boss otherwise.” 

“And let me guess.” Riley leaned on the counter. “You were so impressed with her ability to lie that you took her under your wing and taught her everything you know.” 

Nikki grimaced. “Yeah.” 

Barely stifling a snort, Riley said, “You never could resist a liar.” A low blow, considering the fate of her most recent relationship, but Nikki laughed it off. 

“Want to meet her?” 

Riley wasn’t sure this Jill girl would fill Leanna’s shoes, but if Nikki thought she had potential, then Riley had to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. 

“Sure. I just have something I need to do first.” 

*****

To his credit, the man standing before her wasn’t a coward, but Riley didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice or the way he flinched every time she moved. He was short—she had a couple inches on him in her high-heeled boots—and dressed like a Hollywood film industry wannabe. Judging by the film equipment stashed in the adjacent living room, he was one. 

“Remind me of your name again,” Riley purred, leaning against the kitchen counter. Cleaning non-existent dirt from under her nails with a butcher knife, she looked like a female James Bond villain, with her sleek high-ponytail and dressed in black leather leggings and a tight, black tank top. 

The man had been busy cooking dinner when she’d broken into the house, and Riley delighted in the way he cowered against the sink, brandishing a vegetable peeler as if he thought he could actually land a hit on her. 

The old Riley would’ve worried about the man trying to attack her in some shoddy attempt at self-defense. The new Riley simply gave him an icy, feline smile to remind him of his place. 

Maybe prison had been good for something after all. 

She kept toying with the man, knowing full well what his name was. “Brian?” she mused. “Boxer?” 

“Bozer,” the man said through gritted teeth. He had a white-knuckled grip on the sink’s edge, and Riley did her best not to sneer at the alcohol label stickers covering the stainless steel—perhaps the only decor choice trashier than the empty bottles lining the windowsill like a frat house. How Leanna could stand to date a man whose house looked like he majored in partying was beyond Riley. She certainly wouldn’t. 

“Right,” she said. 

Riley hadn’t expected Leanna to still live in LA after remaking her identity, and she was correct. According to her classified CIA file, Leanna had a nice apartment in Virginia, with a short twenty minute commute to Langley every day. Imagine Riley’s surprise when the file also disclosed Leanna had a long-distance boyfriend, right here in LA. 

What Riley still didn’t understand was how a millennial could afford a house in the Hollywood Hills, but that was beside the point. 

A little more digging through the CIA’s heavily encrypted files revealed orders sending Leanna to the City of Angels for two weeks to assist another agency. The orders failed to mention which one. 

So, Riley waited for her friend, terrifying her clueless boyfriend to pass the time. 

“What are you making?” 

Bozer glared at her, pressing his full lips together. He was attractive enough, although he wasn’t Riley’s type. He seemed a little too domestic for her taste. 

She chastised, “There’s no need to look at me like that, Bozer. I don’t bite.” 

“Says the woman holding a freshly-sharpened knife.” 

Riley examined the blade, gently brushing her thumb over it to confirm Bozer’s statement. “A sharp knife is a good thing, actually. Sharp knives make clean cuts.” Bozer’s throat bobbed under the intensity of her gaze. “It’s the dull ones you have to worry about.” 

Before she could torment him any more, Riley heard the unmistakable sound of tumblers rolling over and the front door opening. A familiar voice called out, “Baby, I’m home!” Riley set the knife down and turned to greet her friend. 

She noticed the physical changes immediately. Leanna’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than before. She had bangs now. Her posture was stiffer, more uptight, and Riley could just see hints of well-defined muscle beneath her friend’s navy pantsuit. 

Upon seeing Riley, Leanna stopped dead in her tracks, eyes blown wide in surprise. “What are you doing here?” It sounded more like a threat than a question. 

“No ‘Hi’? ‘How are you?’ ‘I missed you’?” Riley placed her hand on her chest in mock offense. 

“You—” Leanna started. Her eyes flicked to her boyfriend, then back to Riley. He doesn’t know anything, the look said. “Let’s talk outside.” Without another word, Leanna gripped Riley’s elbow and led her through the back door. 

The balmy night air smelled like jasmine and rotted oranges, and crickets harmonized above the distant hum of freeway traffic. Instead of having a backyard, a multi-level wooden deck spanned the entire backside of the house. Beyond the deck lay a wall of bushes and a sweeping view of downtown. Again, Riley thought there was no way a millennial could afford a house like this. Unless...was there more to Leanna’s boyfriend than met the eye? 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Leanna said, leaning on the railing. Riley tried to catch her gaze to no avail. Leanna’s eyes were firmly on the city lights to the south. “Bozer is a normal guy. Harmless. The house belongs to his roommate, and the mortgage was paid off long ago when his roommate’s grandpa lived in it.” 

The lingering hope that Leanna might not be as clean as Nikki suggested dwindled by the minute. Riley gave up on trying to meet her eye. 

“How long have you been out?” 

“Two days.” 

“That’s...good.” 

Riley hated how awkward this was. Once, Leanna had been her closest confidant. Now she couldn’t feel farther away. 

“Did you enjoy terrorizing my boyfriend?” Leanna asked, mercifully lightening the mood. A small smile curved Riley’s lips. 

“I started cleaning my nails with a knife so I’d look more intimidating, and he nearly shit his pants.” 

Genuine laughter bubbled from Leanna’s throat. It was infectious, and within seconds Riley giggled too. It was almost enough to make her forget why she was here in the first place. 

Almost. 

Riley decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. She spoke in a low, tentative voice. “Why’d you leave, Leanna?” Riley watched Leanna’s chest expand and collapse as she sighed deeply. She waited, giving Leanna time to think through her answer. 

After a long pause, her friend finally said, “You, actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Watching that was one of the worst moments of my life.” Leanna kept her wording vague, in case her boyfriend was listening, but Riley didn’t need to ask what the ‘that’ referred to. That haunted Riley’s every waking moment for the last two years. “I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. Not when that was the cost.” 

Riley furrowed her brow, not quite believing. “And yet your current job is better?” 

Leanna laughed bitterly. “You got me there.” She ducked her head. “In all honesty though, it is different. I’m not close to my coworkers like I was to you.” 

Was. Past tense. Riley frowned at the implications of that. 

“You could come back, you know.” 

Leanna scoffed. “Let me guess, Nikki found someone to replace me because you cooked up a new job, and now you’re here to drag me back just so you don’t have to deal with a weak link. Sound about right?” Riley pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to dignify that with a response. “I’m done with that part of my life, Riley. And you should be too.” 

“Agree to disagree.” Just like that, the last flickering bit of hope inside Riley was extinguished. “It was nice to see you again, Leanna,” she said softly. “I’ll show myself out.” 

She made it as far as the stairs leading down into the house when Leanna called out, “Where?” 

Riley offered her friend a sad smile. “Paris. Just like we always talked about.”

*****

The next day, Riley met Nikki and their new recruit for lunch at one of the sketchiest taco shops LA had to offer. They were already there when Riley arrived, standing in line to order and looking incredibly out of place in their nice business clothes. Nikki and the new girl were about the same height, and both wore their blonde hair in loose waves, but the new girl had wider hips and her shoulders caved in slightly, as if she were trying to make herself smaller. 

Riley silently walked up behind them, grinning. “How’s it going?” The new girl jumped, glasses sliding down her nose. Nikki smirked, unfazed. 

In fact, she didn’t even bother taking her eyes off the ridiculously extensive menu as she chastised, “Play nice, Riles.” 

Even though Nikki couldn’t see her, Riley rolled her eyes anyway. “You’re no fun.” 

The new girl watched Riley with apprehension. Jill. Her name was Jill. 

Riley extended a hand. “I’m Riley.” 

“Jill,” she squeaked. Her grip was feather-light as they shook hands. She’s shy, Riley noted. Shy wasn’t a good trait in a criminal. 

Neither was jumping to conclusions, however. Riley had promised to give Jill a fair shot, and that meant taking time to get to know her. 

Riley let the blondes go first before ordering a California burrito for herself. There were only two booths—every good taco place was the size of a broom closet, after all—and Nikki led them to the one further from the entrance. She and Jill sat on one side, while Riley slid into the other, her back to the door. Riley couldn’t remember a time she and Nikki didn’t do that—sitting on opposite sides of the table, one facing each exit, just in case. 

She doubted anyone would come after them in a dingy taco shop, but slipping into old habits brought a calming sense of normalcy Riley loathed to admit she needed. 

“So,” Riley addressed Jill directly. “Did Nikki fill you in on what we do?” 

“A bit, yes.” Jill’s eyes flicked around the room warily. Riley wished Leanna or Cage were there to psychoanalyze her. Jill was clearly nervous, but she didn’t seem afraid. Confidence Riley could teach. What Jill needed to prove was that she could hold her own against some of the biggest egos in the Western Hemisphere. 

Present company definitely included. 

“Good,” Riley said. “I want to be very clear on something. We are not Robin Hood. We do it for the adrenaline and the money.” Riley’s gaze flicked to the thousand-dollar watch on Nikki’s left wrist. “Although, none of us need the money anymore.” 

“Then why don’t you get your adrenaline fix somewhere else?” Jill questioned bravely. “Maybe pick up skydiving.” There it was—the spark Riley was looking for. 

“We all have our own deeper, more personal reasons. But me?” Riley leaned closer. “I do it just to see if I can.” 

“One day, you’re going to be caught. You know that right?” 

Riley’s stomach dropped. It seemed Nikki had left out some key information. Riley forced herself to grin as she said, “Maybe, but that day isn’t today.” The cashier called out their order number, and Riley retrieved their food before launching into her interrogation. “What I need to know now is what you can do for me.” She consumed her burrito in classless, ravenous bites, uncaring what Jill thought of her table manners. Each bite tasted like heaven. 

Jill’s eyebrow twitched, that spark flaring up again. “How would you like to never leave a fingerprint ever again?” She casually bit into her taco. 

“And how would I do that?” Riley probed. Nikki’s attention flicked between the two, observing, listening. 

Not even bothering to swallow her food first, Jill said, “I’ve met plenty of your type before—” Riley took note of her careful use of innuendo— “and I’m not dumb enough to give away that kind of information for free. If you want it that badly, you’ll pay me.” 

Riley pocketed that key detail for later. “Out of curiosity, what would you use the money for?” 

“Paying off my student loans.” 

Riley nodded. She’d never gone to college, but she had the utmost respect for anyone who drowned themselves in debt for the sake of an education. In addition to that, Jill was smart, not easily swindled, and responsible—all traits Riley was looking for. 

The bell tied to the restaurant door jingled when it opened, letting in a hot gust of summer air. Two men entered; one was about Riley’s age, with blonde surfer hair. The other was older—fifty maybe—and he scanned the room the same way she’d seen Desi do a million times, but it was the blonde one Riley focused on as he froze, eyes locking on the women. 

More specifically, on Nikki. 

“Time to go,” Nikki warned. She shoved Jill out of her seat and dragged her toward the back door. In their haste, Nikki and Jill left their remaining tacos on the table, but Riley clutched her half-eaten burrito as she ran after them. 

For the moment, Riley didn’t care who these men were. All she cared about was getting them off her tail. 

She paid no mind to the cook shouting as she hauled ass through the kitchen. Riley spied an apron hanging off a doorknob, and an idea clicked into place. She grabbed it, turned on the gas stove, and held the fabric in the flames until it ignited. The blonde man skidded around the corner. Riley threw the flaming apron, and her feet carried her away before it even hit him. 

Nikki and Jill were already out the back door and waiting in the alley when Riley caught up. 

“You two didn’t happen to drive here, did you?” Nikki and Jill shook their heads. 

Jill asked, “Did you?” 

Riley shot Nikki a glare that could’ve curdled milk. “I would’ve, if someone hadn’t put my car in storage and then been too lazy to get it back. But noooooooooo, I had to take an Uber.” 

“Shut up,” Nikki growled at the same time Jill questioned, “Storage?” 

Ignoring Jill’s glaring lack of information, Riley grimaced. “Then I guess we’re running.” She took off down the alley, Nikki and Jill at her heels. Over her shoulder, Riley said, “I really hope I’m wrong here, but was that who I think it was?” 

Nikki groaned. “Unfortunately.” 

“Is someone going to fill me in?” 

“My ex.” 

“Oh.” 

Before they even reached the main street, both Riley and Nikki had broken a sweat, but Jill kept pace alongside them like it was nothing—wearing stilettos, no less. 

Perhaps Riley had underestimated Jill. 

Shouting erupted behind them. The men were closing the distance between them, despite the blonde one being too busy fiddling with something in his hands to watch where he was going. The three women ran faster. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Riley hissed. 

“You know how we hack computers? He hacks everything else.” 

A bullet pinged off the alley wall. “Perfect.” 

The main street wasn’t as crowded as Riley had hoped. There was far too little coverage to hide from...whatever these men were. Nikki had some explaining to do when they got home. 

They ran one block before another alley divided the storefronts. First glancing over her shoulder to ensure the men hadn’t turned the corner on the main road yet, Riley pulled her companions into the alley. It was empty aside from a large, faded black dumpster. Riley’s stomach churned at what she was about to suggest, but now was not the time to be picky about solutions. 

“In the dumpster,” she ordered. “Now.” 

Nikki and Jill made pained faces, but neither argued. They tossed Jill in first, then Riley gave Nikki a boost. Yanking her phone from her back pocket, Riley quickly opened a FaceTime call with Nikki and hid her phone beneath the dumpster before climbing inside and closing the lid over their heads. 

The women waited in silence. 

The smell was nauseating, and trash bags squished under Riley’s combat boots. Her boots were going directly in the trash when she got home, favorite pair be damned. She might very well toss her cutoff jean shorts and tank top too. Any article of clothing that touched garbage fluid was not going on her body ever again. 

Nikki dutifully studied their makeshift security camera feed. The dumpster muffled outside sounds too much for Riley to listen for the heavy footsteps of their pursuers. Jill mercifully knew to refrain from making any sort of noise. At least she won’t get us killed, Riley thought. 

When Nikki finally signaled that the coast was clear, Riley breathed a deep sigh of relief she immediately regretted. Gagging, she desperately shoved the dumpster lid open and clawed her way to fresh air, doing her best not to vomit. She’d already sacrificed the uneaten half of her burrito to the dumpster. Riley wasn’t about to give up the half she’d already swallowed too. 

Nikki wasn’t so lucky. 

Jill held back her coworker’s hair, rubbing her back in smooth circles. She didn’t seem affected by the smell at all. When she noticed Riley starting, Jill explained, “I’ve dug through dumpsters filled with half-decomposed bodies. A plain old trash dumpster is nothing.” 

Riley could only nod and offer her a queasy half-smile. 

Retrieving her phone, she called Desi and begged the woman to pick them up, conveniently leaving out the part about the dumpster. When she was done, Riley turned to Jill. “I want you on my team. Take the rest of the day off from work and think about my offer. There’s a team meeting at my apartment tonight. If you’re in, have Nikki pick you up on her way. The choice is yours.”

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Stitches

Benny Miller x reader/you

Continuing the Shawn Mendes Song Fic. Santiago is next and then I’ll be moving onto another band/theme. Uh. Some fights. Nothing really too extreme here. Enjoy. 

Everything Tag: @mikeisthricedeceased​

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one's ever left me quite this sore

Benny was watching an MMA tournament, checking out his competition for his tournament next month. Will was there with him, watching the matches with his keen eyes. Benny was… easily distracted to say the least. He smiled flirtatiously at many women who passed by him. At one point he noticed a group of women, standing off to the side. Most of them had a guy with them, all except one.

As he looked at her, he could tell she looked extremely bored. She had her arms crossed; her foot was tapping. She kept checking her phone for either the time or something to give her an escape.

After a moment, a guy joined her, handing her a clear solo cup of beer. She smiled tensely at him and would duck under his arm anytime he tried to wrap it around her. She eventually, handed the drink to one of her girlfriends, and said something to excuse herself. He watched as she walked over to the concession stand. That was when he decided to make his move.

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

You were idly standing by the concession stand, pretending to look over the menu. You were not thrilled to be there, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

While you were standing there, a guy stood nearby you. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. You noticed he was pretty handsome. Brown hair, blue eyes, a light amount of scruff, and well built.

“Having a hard time deciding what to get?” You hear him ask, as he stepped a little closer, so you could hear him.

“Oh yeah. So hard to chose between popcorn, a corndog, or a hotdog. What would you recommend?” You asked, chuckling at the situation.

“Uhh. Nothing from here. I would recommend only eating this food, if you had a lot of liquor and no taste buds left,” He joked scratching the back of his head.

You crinkled your nose in slight disgust.

“I’m Benny. What’s your name?” He asked.

You tell him yours and he smiled brightly.

“So. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this doesn’t seem to be your scene? Or rather… you don’t look thrilled to be here,” He gently probed, wanting to know.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Oh, you lured me in I couldn't sense the pain

“Oh. Um. Blind date. I hate it. Him. He’s rather touchy, and he’s just boring. My friends thought this was a good idea. After my ex broke up with me because I “wasn’t there enough.” I’m a med student. Sorry my life doesn’t revolve around you,” She informed him with an eyeroll.

“Oh? Med student? Nice. Good to know,” He teased.

“How is that good to know?” She questioned, staring at him confused.

“I’m a fighter. Uh. I have a tournament next month. So, I’m here with my brother to check out my competition. It’s nice to know a pretty doctor is all,” Benny tells her, feeling slightly awkward, thinking he overstepped.

She shook her head with a small smile, thinking he was cute.

“A fighter eh? You any good?” She asked him, biting her lip.

“Come to my tournament next month. You’ll see. Maybe I can…take you to dinner after?” Benny asked charmingly.

She smiled, looking down. She looked over at her group of friends who were apparently waiting on her. She pulled out her phone, quickly unlocking it.

“Put your number in, and text me the details,” She requested.

Benny gave her a 1000-watt smile, as he input his number, sending a text to himself, and saving himself as a contact.

He felt his phone buzz as he received the messaged.

“I’ll see ya then,” Benny stated, pressing a kiss to her cheek quickly.

He ran back over to his brother and looked back to see her still standing where he left her. Her hand was gently touching where he kissed her, and he could see her smiling softly.

Will simply rolled his eyes and shook his head at him.

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm gonna reap what I sow

It had been a week since that day, and you were nervous as you stared at your phone. You wanted to talk to Benny again. You didn’t want to wait a month. You opened up the chat he created, laughing at the name he gave himself.

“Hot Stuff”

You sent him a message simply saying ‘hi.’

Seconds later you got a response. ‘hey! How are you?’

‘I’m well. I... hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time? I just wanted to talk to you again’

‘Oh really? How did the rest of your date go with Mr. Boring?’

‘It didn’t. I ran when he went to the bathroom. He apparently thinks it was a magical date. I told him I wasn’t ready for anything more.’

‘lol. Poor guy. Shame he couldn’t see that you hated it. His loss is my gain tho’

‘Oh. Is that so? What did you gain, besides someone to tend to your wounds?’

‘A beautiful girlfriend? If you’re interested?’

She paused at that. She could feel her face warm up a bit. She bit her lip as she typed out her response.

‘Wouldn’t that imply you have to take me on a few dates before receiving that title?’

‘What are you doing for the next 3 weekends up till my fight?’

She laughed at that before typing out a response.

I'm left seeing red on my own

Got a feeling that I'm going under

The month passed by quickly. Benny had taken you out every weekend: movies, lunch/dinner, walks around the park. He made every date feel relaxed and easy. You didn’t feel like you had to be on guard or put on a façade. He made you forget about all about your dumb ex and was very supportive of your learning.

One date, he actually helped you create flashcards and study for an upcoming exam. Something Brian would never do. He always felt that the attention should be 100% on him, and to hell with your education.

Benny even made copies of your study notes, so he could quiz you randomly throughout the day.  Something you appreciated greatly, because it kept the info fresh in her mind. When the exam day came around, Benny sent you flowers and candy wishing you luck. About 2 hours later, you were turning the test in online, which automatically gave you a score. 100%.

You immediately called Benny, excited, “Benny! I aced it! Thank you so much for your help!”

“Congrats baby! I knew you would ace it! Shall we… celebrate? I’ll bring over food, and we can watch movies?” He offered somewhat shyly.

“Yes! I would love that! But wait… Weren’t you supposed to hang out with your brother and friends tonight?” You asked thinking back to a previous conversation.

“I could cancel with them, it’s not a big deal,” Benny said nonchalantly.

“No. Don’t do that. They are your family. How about we celebrate after your fight on Saturday?” You countered, not wanting him to change his plans just for you.

“Alright. If you’re sure?” He asked wanting to confirm.

“I’m sure. Bye babe,” You tell him as you hang up.

“Bye!” He chirped.

But I know that I'll make it out alive

If I quit calling you my lover

Saturday rolled around fast, and after a rush of getting your badge that gave you VIP access, you were searching for someone familiar. As you were searching, a blonde man appeared before you.

“Hey Doc. I’m Will. C’mon. Benny wants to see you, seems to think you’ll bring him good luck,” Will’s voice was slightly deeper and raspier than Benny’s.

As you looked at him, you could see the resemblance between the two of them. You followed him toward the back, where the locker rooms were located. He led you down a hallway and to a room about midway. Benny was in the middle of bandaging his hands, rather poorly.

“Stop. I have no idea what you’re doing but stop,” You command moving forward.

You grabbed the bandages, undoing his work.

“No wonder you keep busting your hands. Who taught you how to wrap?” You asked him as you wrapped them properly.

You heard several chuckles.

“We keep telling him, but he refuses to listen,” Came a deep voice to your right.

You glance at the man, one of two Latino men who stood nearby. The one who talked was the kind who looked painfully handsome and knew it. The other, who wore a cap, looked sweet and was shaking his head at the scene he was seeing.

“You’re legit the only person he’s ever let touch those wraps. Us? The men he spent years in the army with? Oh no. We know nothing,” He teased, lightly shoving Benny.

“You should listen to them more often. They were correct,” You lightly admonished as you finished wrapping both of his hands.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Benny exclaimed, as he tested his hands, making fists.

“Says who?” You asked him teasingly. “So, who is on the lineup?”

Will handed you the list of fighters that were supposed to be there. As you looked at the list, you noticed the first fight Benny had was against Brian Holden… Your ex.

You snorted. Loudly.

Move on

Needle and the thread

“What? What’s so funny?” Benny asked watching her reaction.

“Just... do me a favor. Your first fight? Make sure you not only win, but make sure it hurts,” She requested handing the list back to Will.

He glanced at the list and chuckled when he recognized the name. The match was in a few minutes and he had a feeling he was going to enjoy it.

Gotta get you outta my head

Gonna wind up dead

They walked out and as Benny was announced, you and the guys made your way to your seats upfront. Benny got in the cage with your ex and you were snickering.

Will leaned over as the fight began, and stated, “He really likes you, you know?”

You turned to face with a smile, “I like him a lot too. He makes me very happy.”

“He… he falls pretty hard, pretty fast. Do me a favor? Don’t break his heart, yeah?” Will requested.

“I don’t plan too,” You assured him, turning your attention back to the match, to cheer Benny on.

“WHOOOO! GO BENNY!” You cheered as Benny landed several hits onto Brian.

“They don’t allow chairs, or anything do they?” You asked all of three of them.

The three of them laughed, before Frankie, as you found out, “No. It’s not wrestling. It’s MMA, there is a bit more class here.”

“Damn. Oh well,” You said, in mock disappointment.

The fight took about 15 minutes and Benny came out on top. As Benny stepped out, he walked over to them and you hugged him in congrats.

“You did great!” You tell him.

You looked him over really quickly and noticed he had a busted lip.

“Ooh. Ouch. Does that hurt?” You ask him, digging into your bag.

He goes to answer but stopped when he watches you pull out a small med-bag.

“You.. came prepared I see?” Benny noted with a smile.

“Just… some small things. Is that weird?” You asked concerned.

“No. No it’s not weird. Let’s get to the locker room and you can tend to me,” Benny tells her appreciating the gesture.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees (falling on my knees)

A couple hours later, and few more scrapes, the tournament was over. Benny came in first and was super happy. The five of you made your way to a local bar, and order food and drinks.

“So. What do ya think of my fighting skills now?” Benny asked taking a drink of beer, basking in his win.

“Mh. You’re good. Could be better,” You teased, hiding your smile in your drink.

“OhHo! What?” Benny exclaimed pulling you to him, his hands running up your sides, tickling you.

You laughed loudly, as you squirmed away.

“Brian used to make me watch all sorts of MMA tournaments. Said it helped him get in the zone or something. I always thought it was kind of boring to be honest,” You admitted once he finally stopped.

“And now?” Benny prompted.

“I… could find a reason or two to find it enjoyable… So long as I’m not patching you up every time you forget to dodge or block a very obvious punch,” You stated with a raised eyebrow.

The guys laughed at that and as Benny dramatically clutched at his heart.

As they talked, someone strolled up next to you.

“Thought you hated fighting?” Came the somewhat nasally voice of your ex, Brian.

“No. I thought it was boring because you never bothered to explain anything. Plus. You always felt the need to interrupt my study time with a match that I just ‘had to watch.’ There’s a difference,” You replied annoyed, not even bothering to look at him.

“Don’t be a bitch. So, what you are with this asshole now?” Brian questioned, grabbing you and making you turn.

You moved to shove his hand off of you, but Will got in between you two, shoving him away. Benny also, moved to place you behind him.

“Get out. You put your hands on her again, and a busted nose will be the least of your concerns,” Will threatened.

Brian turned, acting like he was going to leave before, he swiftly turned back throwing a punch. Will dodged easily. All four of them were gearing up for a throw down but you were sick of it already.

You reached into your medical bag and pulled out your scalpel.

“BRIAN!” You shouted his name to get his attention.

He turned to you and paused when he saw the knife in your hand.

“As you very well know, I am very good with this small sharp object. Get away from me now. Stay away from me. Or I will CUT you,” You warned him brandishing it to him.

He stared at you for a moment before quickly moving away, tripping over a chair as he did so.

You put the knife back into your bag, and all four of the guys stared at you.

“What?” You asked innocently.

Benny reacted first, with loud laughter. “That… that was hot. Terrifying. But hot.”

The others shook their heads and retook their seats.

“Appears, your girl doesn’t need a knight Benny. She can handle herself quite well,” Santi remarked.

“Yeah. She’s more of a knight than you are,” Frankie teased.

“Oh yeah. What does that make me then?” Benny demanded as he pressed a kiss to your face, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at the guys, and they you, all four of you stating at the same time, “Jester.”

You all laughed at Benny’s pout, and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“But a very cute Jester,” You try to placate.

“That sounds too similar to “very cute moose,”” He said suspiciously.

“You… remember that line from Princess Diaries 2? Really?” You asked with a giggle.

“It was the funniest part of the movie,” He mumbled looking away.

“Wait… You got him to watch what now?” Santi asked.

The rest of the evening was spent talking about some of your previous dates, while the guys told you funny stories.

You enjoyed the evening and looked forward to more dates and nights out with all of them. Benny came into your life unexpectantly but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

And now that I'm without your kisses (without you)

I'll be needing stitches (and I'll be needing stitches)

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help (begging baby please)

[starrywisdomsect]

The Eldritch Horror of Shattered Ignorance: A #Cancellation of Robert M. Price

Are you one of those H.P. Lovecraft fans that gets all drooly and frantic when a new anthology of Lovecraftian tales is released? It’s okay, me too. I just long for the magic words of “Featuring Stories by Laird Barron, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Kim Newman, Brian Lumley…” and so on and so forth.

Truly, I never really paid much attention to the “edited by” credit, unless it mentioned S.T. Joshi, who is like a gold-standard among Lovecraft scholars.

However. The editor responsible for the Chaosium “Call of Cthulhu Fiction” Anthologies, Robert M. Price, has recently come to my attention as a ranting lunatic with harmful and bigoted viewpoints. (That’s one way to emulate ol’ H.P. I suppose…) Now, before we proceed further, we must establish one thing…

Can “Lovecraft Fans” cancel anyone? We like a racist asshole’s fiction, after all. True. We are all eternally and often daily conflicted about this, and calling myself a “Lovecraft Fan” is usually accompanied by a small sigh indicating I should have made better life choices. That being said, Lovecraft was eventually cancelled by that big-trending-hashtag in the sky, namely, his own mortality. So that is well and good, I suppose.

Now, this is not when I should have taken first notice of Mr. Price’s vileness. Apparently he gave an interview in 2016, which, had I read or heard it, would have clued me into a lot of his transphobic and sexist attitudes, and stopped me from attempting to collect his “Cycle” anthologies for Chaosium. However, the tattered veil was wrenched from my eyes this fine morning in 2020, when I read of many authors withdrawing their fiction from a sword-and-sorcery anthology (Lin Carter's Flashing Swords!) that Price had edited.

The cause? A single page of Price’s introduction to the anthology was made visible on the Amazon “look inside” preview.

“Sports and games must no longer be based on competition, lest someone feel dejected because of his mediocrity. Poor little flowers! This, in case you hadn't noticed, is no way to prepare young men (or women!) for adult life in a free market economy and in a world full of powerful national enemies.

The continuous false rape accusations serve the same end, seeking to make masculinity, even the natural male interest in women, into a "rape culture." Of course, such wolf-crying works against women because soon it will become habitual to dismiss every rape accusation as the shrill lying of yet another Lena Dunham. (Am I thus suggesting we ease up on rapists? No; you don't want to know what I think ought to be done with those bastards.) Nor is it only the self-defeating futility of crying "Wolf!" There's more at work here. It smacks of an ideology of man-hating.

I have long been puzzled at the feminist hatred of pornography. "It reduces women to sex objects!" Absurd. It is simply a highlighting of a particular aspect of beautiful women. It is no different from fashion modeling. Does that reduce fashion models to animated mannequins? If I were a sports fan, it would not occur to me to think of the athletes as no more than exploited cattle. There is much more to all such public people. But what we do not see of their lives is none of our business. This is why our society's voyeuristic curiosity about the private lives and scandals of celebrities is so pathetically sick.

So then I have to wonder: Are these feminists really protesting male sexual interest in women per se? A woman may be a "sex object," if that's what you want to call it, without being a "mere" sex object. But when feminists refuse to draw such a line, I start thinking of Jill Johnson's book Lesbian Nation, in which she argues that all feminism is at bottom lesbianism.

In some schools boys are encouraged to play with dolls, girls with trucks. Many "progressives" want to replace "he," "she," "his," "her," "him," with "gender-neutral" language so as to promote the illusion that gender is a matter of "social construction." No wonder we are observing a sudden epidemic of transgendered youth. They are responding to the propaganda which suffuses our society like clouds of mosquito poison pumped out of trucks coming down the street.”

 This is of course, in a word, repugnant. Furthermore, it has no goddamn place in an introduction to an anthology of sword-and-sorcery stories.

So what can Lovecraft fans do? Simple. I, for one, can end my quest to collect the “Cycle” anthologies edited by this waste of humanity. We can stop shelling out money for back-issues of “Crypt of Cthulhu,” on which he served as editor. Additionally, we can email Chaosium and Titan Books, two important publishers of Lovecraftian fiction, and request that they end associations with this nut-job. And finally, we can stick to buying anthologies by S.T. Joshi, Stephen Jones and Ellen Datlow.

[megan1412]

Its Time

Cynthia goes into labor and John and Paul become parents to their third child.

----------------------------------------------

The drive is tense and quiet. They had just gotten the call that Cynthia was in labor, and was at the hospital. Paul begins to tap the steering wheel, a habit John hates.

"Paulie, do you have to do that?" John asks with an annoyed tone.

"Leave me alone!" Paul snaps back at a startled John.

"I know your anxious love, but you know I HATE it when you tap. Its bloody awful!" John whines.

Paul speeds up slightly, continuing to tap. John just sits back and groans. Then he begins to mess with a button on his jacket. The button was his favorite to mess with, and it was nearly torn off. The flicking makes Paul nearly go feral.

"Alright, we're both anxious! I just want to see our baby now. Its been nine months and Im ready!"

"Yeah... I wonder what the gender will be."

They decided to wait and see what their baby's gender was. Cynthia knew, but she promised not to tell. The rest of the ride was aggravating, the tension growing as they continued to annoy each other.

"Stop. Fucking. TAPPING!" John yells at a now infuriated Paul.

Paul suddenly stops the car and pulls over to the side of the road. John braces for the worst.

"Do you want me to turn this car around and let us miss the birth of our child Lennon?" Paul says bitterly, his face reddening.

John simply shakes his head, and takes a huge breath of relief. Paul bangs his head on the steering wheel and they continue. They had never been this anxious before. The first two kids were excitement. The day they both were adopted as babies were the best days of their lives. They look at each other and sigh, and continue on to London.

They walk into the hospital, and they ask the receptionist where Cynthia's room is. They say on the second floor in Room 207. They run upstairs and down the hall till they see the room with the sign outside saying Lennon. John goes in first, followed by Paul. Cynthia was laying in the bed, already changed into her gown. She was breathing heavily and was chewing on some ice.

"Hey Cyn. How are you love?" John said tenderly, laying a small peck onto her forehead.

"Not well. Im not dilated enough so this may take a while." She said, frustrated.

They sit down with her and help her through the contractions. They get worse one after the other. The pain looks excruciating to the two men, who just look in awe and sympathy.

"How bad does it hurt Cyn?" Paul asks cautiously.

She just shoots him an ugly look.

"The birth will be worse." Cynthia says on the verge of tears.

The couple look at each other with concerned looks and sit back down when the nurse comes in to check on her dilation. The exam looks uncomfortable. John tries to look away but can't help looking at Cynthia's uncomfortable expression. He wonders why women have to go through so much pain to have a child. He starts to think that women are the strongest beings on earth. Two hours go by and she is still not dilated enough for a natural birth. George and Ringo stopped by to say hello but had to leave as it was 3 in the morning and they were exhausted. Around 5 in the morning, Paul and John were asleep on the couch while Cynthia napped on and off. She suddenly squealed and the couple were awoken with fear in their eyes. The nurse ran in and decided to check if she was ready. As they waited to see, Cynthia was in pain and was lightly crying. She kept mumbling about how she couldn't move much.

"Mrs Lennon, I think we are ready to bring you to the delivery room!" The nurse said excitedly.

The nurse gestured to John to come along as they prepped her bed for transport. He gave Paul an excited peck on the cheek and ran down the hall after them. Paul made his way to the waiting room, where Brian, Mimi, and the kids were sitting. The kids were asleep in Brian and Mimi laps. They had begged Mimi to bring them to the hospital to see their new sibling, but they fell asleep quickly. An hour went by, and the anxiety was growing in Paul's stomach. He heard groaning down the hall, and screaming as well. It sounded like Cynthia.

"JOHN!!! ITS COMING!"

Paul sprang up and, on impulse, ran down the hall. He followed the crying and burst into the delivery room. John sprung around as the nurses tried to usher him out. But John refused.

"Let him stay. If you don't, Ill sue the bloody hospital!" John growled.

They reluctantly moved out of the way and Paul ran to John's side. Cynthia began to cry louder as they told her to push.

"Ok Cynthia. You're gonna have to push harder!"

"I CAN'T I CAN'T!" Cynthia moaned.

"Yes you can Cynthia we believe in you, the baby's almost here!"

The next few agonizing minutes were horrible to watch. She pushed and pushed, getting more exhausted by the minute. John tried to excuse himself, but Paul held his hand and squeezed it, comforting him. Eventually, they saw something.

"I see a head!" The nurse said excitedly.

John and Paul ran to see. They saw the baby begin to appear. John got so excited he nearly broke Paul's hand from squeezing so hard. Cynthia began to push even harder, letting out one final scream.

"She's here! Baby Girl Lennon is here!"

Paul and John freeze in their tracks. Its a girl? John becomes very quiet as he looks at the crying baby. Paul becomes concerned and tries to rub his shoulder, but John just simply walks over to the now relaxed Cynthia, with the baby on her chest. She smiles and kisses the baby's forehead. She then hands the baby over to the nurse. The nurse then weighs her and cleans her up. She is then wrapped in a bright pink blanket with a white beanie on her head. Some red hairs are visible peeking onto her forehead. John takes the baby in his arms, playing with her little fingers and toes and smiling gently. He then whispers softly to the baby with tears in his eyes.

"Hello Elizabeth Stella."

Paul stumbles over to his husband, standing in front of him as they look at their precious new child. Cynthia meanwhile gives the baby's new information.

"Role of the mother?"

"I am a surrogate." Cynthia says blankly.

"And the name for the baby will be Lennon-McCartney."

They can feel the judgement behind them but they don't care. They look into the baby's eyes and smile.

"We are gonna love you better than anybody in the world can ever do." Paul says softly.

"Mr Lennon? Is this your life partner?" the nurse politely asked.

"Husband. Thats the proper term. And the baby's other father." John said confidently.

"Paul McCartney." Paul said quietly.

The baby was rushed to the nursery as Cynthia was cleaned up and getting prepared to move to the Recovery ward. Throughout the morning, friends and family came by to see the baby. Cynthia let John and Paul hold the baby mostly, not wanting to get too attached. Julian and Sean came later in the day and met their new sister for the first time.

"Hey sweetheart." Paul said as he picked up a very excited Julian.

"Where is she?" Julian asked.

"Down here. Hold my hand." Paul grabbed Julian's hand as Sean held onto Paul's jacket.

The room was quiet when they entered. Cynthia was asleep. John was in the rocking chair with Elizabeth. He was holding her little hand and humming to her softly. Julian wanted to yell for his Daddy, but Paul shushed him.

"Hey guys. Wanna come meet yer new sister?" John said quietly.

Sean and Julian ran over to John and stood right beside him. He showed Elizabeth to them gently and they just played with her fingers and giggled. John was ecstatic. Never had Paul seen his husband so happy. He loved kids, especially girls. John simply just smiled at Paul and they exchanged a passionate stare. Their little family was complete.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Kihorri’s Birthday Present: Daithi De Wildcat

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL

Happy birthday @kihoori !!!! You are the best Owlbun ever and I’m so happy to have you in my life! And since you drew me pictures that made me cry for my birthday, I wrote you a little drabble to get back at you. Won’t make you cry, but it’s a storyline you wanted me to write so I figured I’d spoil it to you and give it to you. 

So again, happy birthday, and please enjoy! ^.^ 

Kihorri’s Birthday Present

Wildcat hadn’t wanted to know his ‘perfect match’. He was in the competition, yeah, but that was because he needed money. Marcel had urged him to enter the competition on a whim; they were looking for single people in the area, and Tyler definitely fit that part (Marcel’s word’s, not his own, and he’d shown his appreciation by throwing a gatorade at his head). Wildcat hadn’t expected a call back, nevermind an actual place on the show. He’d taken the chance, because it was free money and he wasn’t an idiot. So he had to go on weird dates and let a computer calculate his compatibility with a bunch of guys. He could handle that. A plan was formed; he’d come in, watch guys make complete fools of themselves, and then he’d get the cash money at the end. Maybe even get some entertainment out of it. 

But when he actually fell in love? Yeah, that wasn’t a part of the plan.

“It’s just a date, Tyler.” Vanoss rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, which was far too large for just the two of them to share. The living room held all twelve men on the show easily, but most of the other contestants were busy getting drunk or falling in love. While Scotty and Marcel (the first perfect match to be discovered by the group) made out in the kitchen over dinner, Smiity, Craig, and Ohm joked around a game of poker and shots. Wildcat was sure the others were scattered all over the home, but it wasn’t any of the people in the house that was causing his pissed off mood. 

“Why the fuck did your boyfriend choose Nogla and Moo for the date? Delirious is a fucking idiot, but even this is beyond his stupidity.” Vanoss flushed and kicked the side of his thigh before slumping back on the couch’s armrest. His hands shoved into the front of the sweatshirt, Evan burying his chin and scowl under the collar of the hoodie. Wildcat knew that technically, Jon and Vanoss hadn’t been paired up yet by Panda’s ‘Computer of truth’, but everyone had all but given up on trying to match with either of them. Vanoss was hopeless, Delirious oblivious, and Wildcat wanted to smash their faces together or drown them (depending on how close he was to the pool at that given moment). Some of the couples in the house were dumb, but these two were hopeless. 

“He was put on the spot after he won the challenge; you know Del’s mind ain’t good with quick decisions.” Vanoss defended Delirious, because of course he did. Wildcat made his feelings about the reply known by a snort and a roll of his eyes.

“Moo’s got a better chance finding water in the desert than matching Nogla.” 

“You know you keep doing that, right?” Vanoss’s tone changed, and Wildcat arched an eyebrow to dare him to continue. Surprisingly, Evan did, even if he sunk lower on the couch and sigh. “Any time any of us put Nogla on a date, you say they won’t match.” 

“What? No I don’t.” The loud groan that came out from Vanoss proved that he felt Tyler’s answer was dumb. 

“First time, we sent him out with Lui.”

“Have you seen the height difference? And the chaos is too imbalanced, neither keeps the grounded side of their stupid relationship-”

“Which is probably why the computer said they weren’t a match, and we moved on to Nogla and Brian-”

“Why, because they both speak like dumbasses? Neither one of them has a grip on reality, and they’d be spending their money in Las Vegas before the first date ended. I knew before they even got scanned they weren’t gonna be a match.” His critical assessment got a droll stare from Vanoss, who kept his judgement quiet because of the pizza slice he’d stuffed into his mouth. “Wait, when did you get-”

“And now-” Evan cut in, the cheese and dough muffling the voice. “We picked Moo. Who is well grounded, mature, will help Nogla’s impulsive nature.”

“Brock’s softer than a sneaker full of shit; he’s too kind for him to keep a steady leash on Nogla’s chaotic energy. I’m telling you, Moo is Terroriser’s match and y’all are gonna send Brian to jail for murdering the next guy who takes Brock out.” Tyler hated how little their group gave him credit for his intuition. He wasn’t buying the algorithms and stupid shit their host, Panda, had explained on the first episode. But he could pick up on human nature; Brock and Brian’s chemistry was soft, but powerful, except both men were just too hesitant to get rejected by the other to suggest they go on a date. Plus, they were already on two strikes each; one more strike and they’d be sent home without finding their Mr. Right. 

“I think Brian’s waiting to win one of the competitions so he can ask Brock.” It was cute, in a dumb kind of way, that Brian wanted to earn his date with Brock. Wildcat could respect that, in a way. He’d only been on one awkward date with Ohm the first week, which he was sure Smiity chose just to get Tyler back for eating his cheerios. Since then, Wildcat had glared at anyone who even looked his way during the ‘date decision’ part of the show, and his name had been kept off the chopping block. 

“Is that why Brian asked your soul-dork to a boxing match? To beat the shit out of the guy who beat him out of sheer luck and sent his lover away for the night?” Because Delirious should not have won their challenge that afternoon; since when did Delirious read? Did he even know how to? He couldn’t figure out the word ‘mountain’ on a good day. Yet he’d aced the trivia quiz about literature, stealing the last three points of the competition out of Brian’s hands when knowing the two men who were sent to kill Hamlet were named Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (even Brock hadn’t know that, and he’s the nerd of all nerds). Vanoss had looked impressed, Terroriser pissed, and Wildcat just wanted to yell at Nogla for not knowing who wrote Harry Potter.   

“You know,” Vanoss drawled out slowly, tip-toeing around a subject that Wildcat wasn’t aware of. “Remember how we got split into two teams week three for our date challenge?” 

“Yeah, I got stuck with the fucking idiots.” He’d lost, because Scotty couldn’t figure out how to change oil for the car they’d had to tune up for the competition. Where Panda and the producers of the show got the stupid ideas of the challenges, Tyler didn’t want to know. 

“Panda spun the wheel for the first half of the date, which landed on Nogla. So we had to choose the other person.”

“I was literally right there, why are you-

“Lui wasn’t the group’s first date choice for Nogla.” Vanoss’s words pushed Wildcat away from the back of the couch, fighting with himself for only a moment before he caved.

“Then why the fuck did you pick him?” Wildcat snapped out, crossing his arms over his chest. Evan took time stretching his arms over his head, before letting them dangle over the armrest his head rested against. 

“Why is this my job?” Vanoss gripped into the air, but didn’t give Wildcat time to ask what he meant. “We had to choose Lui because the guy he’s meant to be with had made it quite clear he’s not going on another date.”

“You’re saying… wait.” Dumbfounded, Wildcat sat without words to reply with. Vanoss gave him a few seconds to try and rebuild his brain, then finally pushed to sit cross-legged on the sofa.

“We’re on week six, and you haven’t even stopped to think of why you hate Nogla being on dates with people?” 

“Because he’s an idiot,” Wildcat answered, uneasy when Vanoss shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  

“Or maybe cause he’s your idiot?” 

“Wh-what the fuck? Are you stupid? Why would he ever be-” 

“Nogla’s on two strikes, too.” The words stalled Tyler’s brain, Vanoss leaning to the side to snag another piece of pizza from the box he’d hidden under the table. “If we test him with Brock, and it’s wrong-”

“It will be wrong.”

“-then he’s gone.” Evan folded the pizza together, but kept his eyes focused on Wildcat. “You okay with that?” 

“Course I’m not!” His words came out before he could stop them, and Vanoss nodded like he already knew the answer.

“Wonder why that is.” Both men sat in the silence for different reasons. Evan because his mouth was full of pizza, and Tyler because the bottom was dropping out of his stomach. He couldn’t accept this. Sure, he knew there was a chance, because statistics and algorithms and all of that bullshit. But he’d thought he’d end up with someone softer. Someone who didn’t drive Tyler up the wall with his idiotic nature and weird laugh, his love of dogs and his kind smile whenever he was proud of one of the other guys. Not one who was optimistic about everything in life, made Wildcat’s ragged edges a little smoother, made him wanna just roll his eyes and laugh at all the random thoughts he spouted out at the weirdest time. But he was cute when he got angry at Tyler’s insults and the blush brightened his eyes if he was too tired-

“Oh.” Horror crashed through him, Wildcat slowly rising to his feet. “Oh no.” 

“Yup.” Vanoss didn’t even give him the dignity of looking up from his pizza when he finalized Tyler’s mental breakdown. 

“Fuck that.” Then Wildcat was gone, his panic pushing him down the stairs of the house. He could hear the cameraman chasing him, trying to keep track of his movements. But Tyler just didn’t care; he needed out of the house. 

“Wildcat?” Panda’s voice caught his ear when he pushed out the front door, feet feeling the wet grass because he’d left his shoes in the house. 

“Nope.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away.”

“You can’t just leave! Get back here.” The sound of Anthony moving after him made him walk faster, refusing to let his anxiety or feelings catch up with him.

“Nononononono-” Tyler shouted when he was tackled to the ground, his mouth filled with dirt and grass in seconds. He spit it out and flailed his body, trying to buck Panda off his back. But the host held strong as they rolled, garbled shouts and insults thrown back and forth between them. Panda’s elbow met his eye, while his own palm rocked the side of Anthony’s nose. They fought like school kids, Wildcat desperate to get away from the show and Panda refusing to let him budge. In the distance he could hear cheering from his castmates, and he knew Kryoz well enough to assume he was taking bets. If Vanoss didn’t bet on him, he swore to god-

“Woah, woah!” Moo’s voice caught Tyler’s ear, jerking his head up from the grass Panda was pushing it into to look at the new voice. Not because he wanted to see Brock, but because Wildcat knew who he was with. 

“Is that Panda? Is the host supposed to fight the contestants?” Nogla glanced between Anthony and Tyler, eyes round with curiosity and excitement. “Is Tyler winning?” 

“O-obviously,” Wildcat answered, despite his cheek fully planted into the ground. But he couldn’t really care at the moment; his heart was too busy trying to leap out of his chest to focus. Like a freight train, his emotions finally caught up with his body. Seeing Nogla after Vanoss’s revelation made Tyler realize the idiot wasn’t lying; the tension that’d spun around his spine from the moment Nogla and Moo left on their date finally unraveled. Panda bearing down on his back didn’t affect his breathing anymore; he was able to breathe smooth and easy. The pulse in his neck was going wild, and he’d never felt the desire to kiss and punch someone at the same time so badly.  

“Come on, up you go.” Brock helped pull Anthony up with a laugh, finally allowing Wildcat to push up into a seated position. It was second nature to cross his arms and glare at Panda, who showed his maturity by sticking out his tongue. But he looked proud of himself turning to chit chat with the filming the crew, because he had completed his mission. Wildcat was still at the house, stuck with his feelings and emotions and Nogla-

“Aw, jeeze, Tyler. Look at you, buddy.” Nogla’s goofy grin when he crouched down and rubbed his rough palm against Wildcat’s dirty cheek was overwhelming, Tyler frozen in his spot at the touch. Heat rushed his face, fingers twitching in the grass from the urge to touch the beanstalk gazing down at him in obvious amusement. “You’re a mess.” 

“Well whose fault is that?” Tyler snapped out, sure his cheek would burn off Nogla’s skin from the heat. Dumb as always, Nogla gave a owlish blink, tilting his head to the side curiously. 

“Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re my match, you idiot!” His mouth really needed to learn to take a fucking break. His chest heaved from the shout, hating how many eyes and cameras and lights were on them. He wanted to curse himself for making Nogla’s mouth drop open in surprise, proving he hadn’t a clue about their potential match. Which meant the idiot didn’t even see Tyler as a possibility, which was just a kick in the dick-

“Are ya making fun of me because I like you?” The question derailed Wildcat’s thoughts, and he stared at the slight pout that Nogla now wore. “Cause I already told the guys ye wouldn’t want a guy like me, so if this is some sorta bet or something…”

“Since when have you liked me? You never told me shit.” Tyler asked, and Nogla sighed with more annoyance than he should ever be allowed.

“Ya, obviously. Why would I wanna get rejected by my match?”

“Wait, you knew?” 

“Yup! First week, it was kind of obvious. I got all these butterflies looking at you, but nobody else. You’re weird and rude, and I like how funny you are when you make fun of the others.” Nogla scratched his temple with his free hand, the other still holding Wildcat’s face. “Don’t like it much when you do it to me, but I think that’s how you flirt so it’s okay cause you do it alot! Made me feel pretty special.”

“Jesus, what is my life?” Tyler’s shoulders deflated, but even with his irritation, he felt his heart lighten. Trying to cover his hint of a smile when noticing the cameras still watching them, Tyler huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re going into the scan tonight; if we’re a match, the next date is ours.” 

“Fuck the rest of us, right?” Brian’s shout from the balcony of the house had the rest of the castmates laughing, and Tyler flipped him off long enough that he knew the editors were going to hate him. 

“Yeah! Let’s go on a date.” But when Nogla laughed and dived forward to tackle Tyler (despite Wildcat shouting in protest) onto the grass in a hug, Wildcat forgot the rest of the house. The show, the money, getting revenge of Panda- none of it mattered. 

Wildcat hadn’t wanted to find his match, but maybe he was okay that he did. 

And there ya go! Thank you very much, let me know what you think, and go say happy birthday to Kihorri! <3

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter One.

Fake Fiancé/Husband Wanted!

Yes, I know the request looks weird, but I can explain. I work a high demanding job so I can't have custody of my child unless I marry someone with regular hours and a regular nanny on call. I have the nanny, but she is a uni student and can't be here at odd hours. After gaining custody and getting a job with normal hours I am willing to pay you or we can talk about divorce settlements. Preferably someone with a stable job and a liking towards kids. If you have a child, they are welcome to live here too obviously and I will treat them like my own for the foreseeable future. Serious inquiries only, please contact me via email I have made specifically for this.

Thank you.   Louis didn't know why he was on craigslist at three in the morning after drinking himself to death's door knowing Freddie was safe with Zayn for the night. He knew that when he was drunk, he tended to do stupid things and think stupid things. He had been on this post for almost an hour staring at it knowing damn well how stupid and dangerous replying was. That didn't stop him from clicking on the email and typing out a reply. 

To Stranger,

My name is Louis Tomlinson I am a single father of a four-year-old boy. I work as a dramatic arts teacher at Abraham Moss Community. Not the best paying job, but nowhere in your post did you have a minimum annual income requirement. Despite the horrible pay I do love my job and I work at this school for free childcare at the nursery across the street my son goes to. I would like to know a bit more information about you wanting custody before I agree to such a thing. You hear so many stories about fathers taking kids to be spiteful, so I want to be sure that is not the reason.

Louis

****   It was two days later when Louis got a reply from the mysterious guy. He waited until his lunch break before he read it.  

Louis,

You are the first normal person who has shown interest in anything that wasn't money related. For that reason, I really hope we hit it off. I love my daughter so much; she is my absolute world and I video call her every day. It's not me that is the bad parent and I say this as nicely as I can, but her mother is a very absent and selfish parent, and it shows. It's funny you work where you do, my daughter is in Year 1 there.

I gave her mother the money for private school, but she spent it on a new wardrobe for herself and didn't even spent a dime on out daughter. So, she goes to Abraham. I have receipts and check copies, and everything is to prove that I am the 'fit' parent. I have tried to avoid court, but I haven't been able to have my daughter for more than a few hours in over a year. Now her mother is talking about movie to America if her boyfriend gets the promotion at the end of the twelve-month training which just began a month ago. I have a hearing in a few weeks for visiting rights so hopefully if you are still willing after hearing how much drama this will involve, we can talk about everything in person before then.

Your son Freddie, what's his custody like? He is welcome here anytime and if he lives with you full time that's amazing. Obviously, kids make this a bit more delicate, but all the more reason to see if we can try to be something more along the way? We'll discuss this more another time of course, but reply as soon as you are able to and maybe we can get coffee?

 Your (maybe) future husband.

  Louis smiled softly reading about how much the guy loved his daughter. He seemed to want the best for her, and her mother seemed to just want money. He heard about those people and he could honestly say he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe people put themselves first over their own child. Louis had three-year-old winter boots with the soles so worn out that the snow seeped into his socks, but his son always needed new boots every winter and he'd be damned if his son were in pain over too tight shoes because Louis bought a pair of boots for himself. Louis pressed the reply button and wrote a quick response.  

My future husband,

She sounds like the devil. I'd be happy to help you if you don't/haven't found anyone better. I have the same lunch hour every Monday through Friday from 11-12 and there's a small coffee shop around the corner I can make it to for the hour. Then my best my mate has Freddie a weekend a month and then me mum has Freddie for another weekend. Usually it goes me mum, myself, best mate, and myself again. So, to make this believable we have two weekends to have "been together". Freddie is mine solely, I'm a carrier so I had him, and his other father ran out a few months after he was born. Ran off with a younger boy without a child and without a scar on his stomach. Let me know when you're available for that coffee.

Louis

  ***********   Harry emailed only three people Louis, Matthew, and Brian. Matthew and Brian didn't have kids, but they said they liked them. Matthew kept asking about his monthly income which he kept avoiding and Brian asked how big he was and if sex was involved. Harry wouldn't say no to sex of course, but to ask someone's size. He ended up blocking him when he got a dick pic. Matthew then asked how much the wedding would total up to and if they were wearing designer suits, so he ended up blocking him as well. Louis was interested in his reason of doing this and he had a child so knew how real this had to be for kids. He knew what it meant to be a full-time parent and put the kid first. So, he was so far the best candidate and he never even asked about his job or finances. So, after checking his schedule he emailed him and told him he'd be able to meet Thursday during his lunch at the café he knew Louis was talking about.   He got off a rare 38-hour shift Thursday at ten, so it gave him time to make it to the school for a quick minute to see Maddison. He walked into the building still in his pink scrubs and lab coat on as well, but that was because he hadn't taken it off so use to having it on all the time. He headed up to the front desk smiling at Amy.   "Hey Amy, is Maddison available for just a minute? I know she's in art right now."   "She is, however, she's over at the other side in Mr. Tomlinson's room. He's her favorite teacher and she goes there every art class and sometimes when her mother is late for pickup, he stays with her. I can take you to his room."   "Louis Tomlinson?" Harry questioned not believing it for a second   "Well, she calls him Mister Tommy."   "Oh that's- no kidding yeah she told me about him. He gives her candy whenever she gets a good score on her writing or reading." Harry said grinning   "That's him. He seems to be everyone's favorite. I'll take you to him-"   "No, it's okay. Can you just tell her I stopped by? I don't want to disturb her."   "Are you sure?"   "Yeah, it's fine. Thank you, Amy." Harry left the building and headed to his Murano. He waited in the parking lot for a little while as he went through their emails over the past few days. Harry had told Louis his name and that he worked as a doctor. He wanted to get into neonatal care, he already had the training and everything he needed there just hadn't been an opening yet, but the hospital was expanding their Neonatal Ward and Harry had already talked to his higher ups about working there. When he finally got to the cafe, he was only a few minutes later because he got lost in his own head in the parking lot. Harry got out of the car and headed inside up to the front desk. Louis' Gmail account had a picture of himself so when he looked around the cafe it was easy to spot Louis sitting at a booth as he looked down at his phone. Harry grabbed his cup and headed to the booth nervously then set the mug down and slid into the other side. Louis looked up from his phone and smiled.   "Hey." Harry said   "Hi. Sorry I was texting one of the nursery staffs about Freddie. He had a rough night last night so he's having a bad day today."   "Is he okay? Bad dream or something?" Harry asked concerned   "He has a problem of staying asleep, we live in the apartment complex and our upstairs neighbors stay up all night yelling at their game system."   "Melatonin. My mom swears by it when I was a toddler. I had to give mine some when she refused a nap even though she was exhausted a few years ago." Harry told him   "They have melatonin for kids?"   "Yeah, definitely get some for him if he wakes up at odd hours of the night. Also, you know my daughter."   "I do? I know a few Year 1, but not a lot. Who is she?" Louis asked   "Maddison Styles." Louis eyes widen and he grinned   "Yeah, I was just with her. She comes to see me every Tuesday and Thursday during her art class. She has a hard time concentrating in the room, so I took her to mine. I have a free period anyway, so I don't mind."   "Yeah, she's too much like me. Her and I have a sensory overwhelm with too much noise. We also have dyslexia, terrible dyslexia, mine is controlled most of the time now, but she's not doing so good with her reading or writing because she doesn't get at home help."   "Yeah, I figured that out when she wrote her name as Mabbison or Wappison more than a few times." Louis said grinning making Harry laugh nodding   "I had to get five different papers for her birth signing because I was so emotional when I was spelling her name, I messed it up. My mom had to take me to a quiet room and call me down before letting me write again. If was horrible. My patients look at my writing and I can see their confusion build as they try to decipher my spelling." Louis laughed covering his mouth with his hand, "anyway um I know this was meant to be a casual meeting to make sure we're not pedophiles or murders or whatever, but I did bring some copies of things just in case you want to see it. I'm not trying to make her out to be a horrible person, these are just some of the things I had copies of at home."   "Oh, now that I know you're Madison's dad and having met her mother I agree with you. She's a horrible person. I hate her. Today for example Maddison came to school in a dress without a jacket and without leggings. She was freezing, the school wasn't letting kids inside yet, so I let her in the side door to my classroom and gave her some of Freddie's sweatpants I keep in my car. Poor thing is in 3t sweatpants that stop at her shins."   "I have black leggings and a jacket in my car if you can give them to her. I always keep a small totes of season clothes for her just in case anything happens. Usually, the school calls me and tells me if something like this happens and usually, I'm at work so I have to ask someone to bring them for her. A few days ago, her teacher called me and told me Maddie came to school in dirty clothes and when I got there Maddie was in the nurses’ station crying. Apparently, her mother hadn't washed her clothes and that was all she had there. I called her as soon as I left the school and told her is, she didn't wash my daughter's clothes by the end of the day I'd report her to child services. Needless to say, that hasn't happened again, but September hasn’t even ended yet so who knows."   "Yeah, I can take them to her. I don't see how a parent can do such a thing. I always wash Freddie's clothes first then I do his bed sheets then I do the towel then I do my clothes and bedsheets last."   "Yeah, I wash her stuff at my house every two weeks so if I get her out of the blue, she has clean clothes and sheets."   "How long has it been since you last had her?"   "Her mother dropped her off at the hospital when I was working a few weeks ago but she came back right as my shift ended. Maddie was so upset because she thought she'd be able to stay the night. The last time I've had her over night was 16 months ago and I had for her two days because her mother and boyfriend were at a resort for the weekend."   "I couldn't imagine that." Louis said shaking his head, "Freddie is my world. I couldn't be separated from him. I barely manage a weekend away."   "So, does he call you Papa? I know that's the more traditional term for carriers."   "Yeah, most of the time. If he's upset, he'll call me mommy or mama. I am one of the lucky ones able to nurse, at least with Freddie. I heard some can't for their second child or third child. I think with every child the chances get lower. He called me mommy or mama until he was two and a half, so I think it brings him comfort. I don't mind either way."   "That's sweet. I wish I were a carrier. My sister and I had to play mommies and aunties instead of mommies and daddies because I always wanted to be the mommy. I'd shove the baby doll under my shirt and go through labor with my stepdad and everything. My mom held the seat rag to my forehead. We went all out, I demanded it. We were all convinced I was a carrier, then when I was seventeen, I  got tested and I wasn't. I was devastated. I cried so much; I remember convincing myself I was straight for years after that. That's how I got Maddison." Louis laughed unable to help himself   "You're joking."   "No. Not one bit. I thought if I wasn't a carrier there was no point in being gay, so I went straight."   "I was the complete opposite." Louis said, "I was always the daddy, I'm the oldest of five sisters and my mom finally gave me a brother a year ago. Two sets of twins. I demanded to be daddy because I didn't think I was a carrier. I thought I was straight until probably sixteen."   "Really?"   "Yeah, I just never really thought about it, I guess. My first boyfriend was when I was seventeen and we dated until he left after Freddie. I had him when I was twenty on March twenty-first and graduated early. He's turning five next year."   "You had him in school and finished your studies early?"   "Yeah, it was really hard, the first year was terrible, but I got my degree and took the first job I was offered that had the best benefits for us as a family."   "That's amazing. We had Maddison when I was in my foundation programme. I was twenty-four. She was born on May twentieth, so she'll be six two months after Freddie turns five. I started working at twenty-six. Hannah and I split then because I had to work so many night shifts, so she started cheating while I slept during the day. She took Maddie and left. We've been fighting since."   "So, you're thirty?"   "Almost thirty. Still in my twenties for four more months."   "Can't relate. Still got a few years." Louis said smirking making Harry throw a walled-up napkin at him. "Well, you look good for thirty." Louis teased   "Twenty-nine."   "Same thing." Louis said grinning as he watched Harry shake his head grinning as he stared off to the side before their eyes met. Louis knew that even if nothing came from this marriage besides Harry gaining his daughter, it wouldn't be a horrible marriage of convenience. Which made him feel better and he could tell Harry was relieved as well, both glad this wouldn't be a disaster.

 “I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me.” Harry said, “Especially considering how this came to be. I mean I know you see Maddie with her mom, so you understand some of it, but if you want to ask more feel free to do so.”

 “Besides the obvious reasons why go to craigslist?” Louis asked

 “Last resort? It had to be someone my friends didn’t know so I couldn’t ask anyone at the hospital. I tried dating, but it never went past a few texts. Having a daughter that I want full custody of sort of makes men run away. They don’t understand why I can’t just get a weekend a month and be happy with it. I’ve tried explaining the situation, but they don’t get it. Then it’s also my odd hours of my schedule. I’m a doctor at the hospital so I’m off and on and on call a lot. Makes it hard. My schedule is pretty tame, but it’s a pain to get use to and stuff like that.” Harry explained

 “Yeah, I get that. With Freddie…he’s my priority and obviously before I fully agree to anything, he has to like you too, but that can wait a bit. Make sure you’re not a weird murderer or something.”

 “Fair enough.” Harry said chuckling, “So I guess um…why did you offer to help? I know with a son this makes it more delicate, I mean obviously I’m hoping once we settle in, we can try for something real, but why offer?”

 “Any parent who wants to see their child should be able to. I would help anyone who was sincere enough. If you were one of those fathers trying to take their child away from their mother out of pettiness then I’d walk out of this building, but I’ve met Hannah. I’ve seen, I’ve seen the clothes she drops her daughter off in while she’s wearing the newest Gucci purse or whatever. I’ve been talking to school about it since the first day, but there isn’t much we can do. We can record it and file it away incase you ever need it for court, but unless she comes to school with bruises or starving, we don’t have grounds to call child services.”

 “So, Freddie’s other father?”

 “If he ever contacted me, I’d let him see Freddie. I’d talk to Freddie about it first, make him go to the first meeting and if he didn’t want to see him after that? I don’t know. Freddie has asked and I told him the truth, that his other father left a few weeks after he was born. So, it’d be Freddie’s chose after the first meeting and anyone I see would obviously at least respect that. They don’t have to like it or agree with it.”

 “I think people can change if the right person comes along. I hope for Freddie’s sake he contacts you a better man than when he left, but I also hope that if he hasn’t changed that he doesn’t drag Freddie into daddy issues.” Louis cracked a smile and nodded

 “Me too. They’re not fun.”

 “No not really. My biological dad left leaving my mom to feed two kids on one minimum wage paycheck. My stepdad came along and changed our lives basically.”

 “My biological father left when I was born. My stepdad came along and gave me his last name so he’s my dad. Then he and my mom split, and mom is married to Dan now. She just had twin girl and boy two years ago in February.”

 “Awe really? That’s sweet. I’m the youngest out of two kids. I have an older sister.”

 “I’m the oldest of seven kids. Goes me, my sisters Lottie, Fizzy, Phoebe and Daisy are twins then Doris and Ernest are twins and my baby sister and my only baby brother.”

 “That’s a lot of sisters.”

 “Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of handling little girls. I was six when Lottie came around, so I’ve been through it all.”

 “Well then I won’t stop Maddie from painting your nails a pretty pink color when I can’t be her victim in her nail salon. If she’s still into that stuff.” The last part was said sadly as he looked away

 “She is. If she’s done with her art assignment early, then I let her color my nails with markers. It washes off by lunch, but she doesn’t need to know that. She’s great. She is one of my favorite students in that school, whenever we see each other in the halls she absolutely has to shout hi Mr. Tommy each time. My students probably think she’s my niece or something. They call me Mr. T all the time and try to encourage her to do the same however I think she’s too shy to.” Harry was grinning as he played with his napkin listening to him

 “She’s very social. Always has been. There probably isn’t a stranger in the world she wouldn’t talk to. It’s a bad and good thing. I’ve tried to explain it to her, stranger danger and everything and she understands it, but I don’t think she realizes even a little hi can be dangerous in this world these days. Her mother scares me to death, I’ve seen Maddie run right upfront of cars sometimes and I swear my heart stops.”

 “Yeah, I’ve seen her do it too and it’s always the arrival or departure teacher stopping her from getting hit. Hannah will walk her to the crossing way but not to the actual sidewalk so it’s not the easiest thing to watch when I’m on duty. We can’t leave our posts except for emergencies so I have to navigate kids and cars and then watch her and make sure she’s safe. It’s ridiculous sometimes.”

 “Well thank you for doing what you can.”

 “It’s not much, but of course. I’d do it for any kid. Just thinking about Freddie in the same situation I would probably do the same thing you are. So, for now I’ll help, Freddie is what will be the deciding factor.”

 “We’ll talk more and figure it out?”

 “Yeah of course. I should go though I need to get back early today. I forgot today is Pop quiz day, my kids are going to hate me.”

 “Don’t worry about it. Thank you, Louis.” Harry and Louis stood up and walked out together, “My number is in the file I gave you so feel free to text me instead of emailing me if you want to.”

 “Alright. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

 “Bye.” Harry and Louis were luckily enough to have parked on opposite ends of the car park, so they didn’t have to awkwardly walk beside each other to go to their respected cars. Harry grinned as he looked at the picture of Maddie, he stole off her mother’s Facebook. It was on her fifth birthday party; one he hadn’t been invited to or hadn’t even been told about. She was dressed in a flowy baby blue dress and her hair curled and she was half smiling as she sat on a chair surrounded by a few presents. He touched the picture that was hanging about his rear-view mirror before he sighed sadly and let it fall from his fingers before he started his Murano and headed out of the car park.

[scary-lasagna]

Trust || Part VIII

" "You have to try to stand, I can't carry you back on my own." For a brief moment, auburn eyes flickered with hazel. Brian reached through, if only for a few measly seconds. But you were too busy to notice. You were lugging him up like a sack of potatoes, managing to get him on his feet. You two trudged, slowly, through the crunchy leaves of Rosswood forest.  Back to that cellar. "

Yandere!Hoodie/Brian x Reader

* * *

Hoodie was not helping in carrying his body weight, mostly because he was fading in and out of consciousness. It was a struggle to get a glimpse of that concrete building, a landmark of your capture. But it was starting to rain.

Even if Brian is long gone, you decided that you still weren't going to leave him. This was still a person. He still deserved life.

He sacrificed himself for you, after all. He was willing to die for you. So maybe he does love you, in his own weird and sick way.

You needed medical supplies. He had to have some back in the cellar, but you never saw any. Not even a casual box of bandaids in the medicine cabinet.

"My room.." Hoodie whispered, he was still gesturing you his hand pathetically. Your hand uncoiled his fingers, spotting the shiny brass key. There must be a first aid kit or something in there.

You didn't hesitate to sprint down the hall and fumble with the padlocks.  Lo and behold a red box was presented on the wall above his bed. 

You almost didn't notice one of your shirts wrapped around his pillow, along with the many pictures of you and Brian together on decorative shelves. You grabbed a few of his dirty shirts in case there weren't enough bandages to stop the bleeding.

"I'm here, I'm here." You came to a stop frantically in front of him, kneeling down beside him. Hoodie was gasping, clutching at the oozing wounded. You had to fight his hands off to apply bandages over the blood, just praying that the bleeding would stop. You had no idea what the hell you were doing, and the blood just kept seeping through everything you tried.

"F-Fuck! Hoodie, please!" There was a growing knot in the pit of your stomach, a similar feeling to when you had first arrived. When you realized you lost everything. You didn't want to lose Hoodie, or Brian, for that matter. 

You cradled his head, pressing your cheek to his forehead. A few tears trickled down your scrunched face and rolled down his nose.

You didn't want him to die.

So you waited.

You waited until the bleeding stopped, sitting right by his side. 

"{Y/N].." You barely heard the whisper from Hoodie's mouth. You looked down into his auburn eyes.

Hoodie struggled to lift up his bloodied hand, just wanting to feel the softness of his cheek before he entered shock. He's been stabbed before, but he was lucky enough to survive on his own. This time, he can't be so sure.

Your breath hiccuped as you leaned into his touch, not caring that the crimson liquid was making a mess all over your cheek and neck. 

"I really love you, [Y/N]. Even if you hate me, my shitty cooking, and how I always kiss you when you pretend to be asleep."

You blinked away your tears a few times, letting them trickle down your cheeks and clearing a trail of Hoodie's blood from your skin. Your bottom lip quivered because you didn't know how to say it. You did love him now, you loved the way he always flashed a cheeky smile after saying goodbye, and the way he always smelt like the forest, and the dumb fucking way he always kept chips in the fridge. It was the little things you hadn't noticed before, that made you fall in love with him.

The worst part is that you hadn't even realized it. Hoodie was around you the entirety of the time Brian and you were dating. The sudden eye shifts after he stared at you when looking out the window, the way he sobbed after an argument and begged for your attention, the way he disappeared for a few days and then returned with a giant hug late at night. That was all Hoodie, not Brian.

You did fall in love with Hoodie.

But now the life was fading from his eyes and you had no way to make it up to him.

"Hoodie, I love you too." Taking one hand off of his bleeding wound, you leaned down and met his lips.

His soft, iron tasting lips.

The wet hand moved into your hair, desperate to deepen the kiss, the only true feeling of love that you've felt for him. Not Brian.

Your lips danced with his, and you could only describe the feeling of desperate longing and the perfectness of how your lips fit his, like they were made to kiss him, and him only.

But even with the miracle of the kiss, Brian was still fading in and out of consciousness, because this was not a fairytale. And even though the bleeding has slacked up, it had not stopped. 

"Please don't leave me." Hoodie whispered into your kiss.

"I promise. I promise I won't."

Your own world felt like it was fading away. Without Brian, without Hoodie, you didn't feel like anything. No one set out to look for you except to murder you. No one truly cared except for him.

When Hoodie stopped responding, you started counting his breaths, just to reassure yourself that he was still fighting to stay alive for you. And you constantly mumbled those three words that you hoped to work like magic.  But they didn't. Hoodie didn't wake up.

* * *

It's been three days since Hoodie fell into what you presumed to be a coma. No matter what you did, cold water, kneading his breast bone like you saw on shitty tv shows, even leaving a few bruises from trying to painfully wake him up.

You never left his side except to use the bathroom, and you barely ate unless you started to get dizzy. Because if you, too, fell unconscious, there'd be no one to help Hoodie.

You used the key he gave you to place him in the comfort of his own bed instead of the cold cement floor or the rickety couch.

You didn't even notice the masked man that walked in through the open cellar door until he stepped on an old chip bag you left on the floor.

You met with the familiar brown eyes of Tim Wright.

You didn't even bother acknowledging him.

You place your head back down on the mattress, and tighten your grip on Hoodie's hand. You've been staring at him as your pass time until he woke up, reflecting back on your memories of you and Brian. It was hard to differentiate between Brian and Hoodie in your glitchy memory. Another pass time favorite was crying, and sometimes even throwing a tantrum. You were a shitshow of emotions, sad, angry, scared, desperate, and a whole bunch of other indescribable feelings plagued your mind.

Tim took a cautious step forward, now scanning over his coma induced friend.

You weren't sure that was Tim, or if it was another Hoodie situation going on. you just hoped he wouldn't take you away.

He dragged a chair across the room, sitting in silence next to you. You slowly picked your head up, looking over into Tim's brown eyes that were cast onto your intertwined hands. He almost looked confused.

"Why are you here?" You croaked, your voice wasn't in the best shape between screaming, crying, and otherwise not talking for the past few days.

Tim stayed silent, only meeting your eyes as an answer. He blinked and then looked down.

"He didn't answer fora few days. He told me to come get you if anything happened to him." The voice that came out of Tim's mouth sounded too deep and gravelly to belong to him. 

"I'm not leaving."

Tim looked over at you with unreadable eyes. And for a flash, you felt the familiarity of bickering with Tim.

"Who are you anyway? Are you like Hoodie?" You glanced back at the blonde for a few moments, counting a few of his steady breaths.

"Tsk, 'Hoodie'. You couldn't have come up with a stupider name." The masked man leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Do you want a name too?" Your lips managed to twitch into a soft smile.

"No, I don't need a name."

"Alright, you'll be Masky then, and that's what I'm calling you."

'Masky' stayed silent, keeping his arms crossed. "Do you think he'll wake up soon?"

The masked man stared down at his friend, and then at [Y/N]'s desperate eyes. How had they fallen in love with Hoodie? He kept telling his friend that he had no chance, but Hoodie never gave up on them. And now they’re refusing to leave his side, even when Hoodie has little to no chance of coming out of this coma anytime soon. Especially without food or water. 

They deserve love together.

"I hope so."