#and I think the gods would be. far less directly involved in the world's happenings currently than in the ancient days

[kastalani123]

Having Mr D thoughts.

What if he's like. Extra Bitter about his punishment because:

1) These modern demigods have it so easy, with Camp and Thalia's barrier and the Mist and the monsters' reduced powers and on and on with all of the world's developments

Like, yes, this batch in particular got impossibly unlucky, with two wars and the Triumvirate's bullshit happening in the span of not even a decade, but they still get to go to school. Sure, there's always a monster here or there, but that's nothing in light of having a home where they feel safe and not having to constantly travel because if just one monster finds where you're staying, you're doomed so you have to leave immediately. And the monsters are weaker now, too, because people don't remember and believe in them in the same capacity as back in ye' old days!

And there's always something around, some building or bus or whatnot the demigods can use to their advantage, rather than being stranded on a mountain or in the middle of a forest. They don't even have to hunt, or go hungry for months at a time, because there's food everywhere — sure, there's demigods Fated for some dumpster diving and nights in sewers, but that's a minority.

And the humans around them are better, too! Child protection and the legal system are far from perfect, but for the most part, people won't turn a blind eye to you being tied up and kidnapped, or beaten into a pulp in the middle of the street for stealing.

(Your mother won't be convinced to disintegrate with you in her womb)

(You won't be confused about your very being during your childhood because you must hide from your stepmother, your identity unimportant in face of fear)

(Your aunt and uncle won't be driven to insanity and murder with no repercussions)

(You won't be hunted down since before you were even born)

But also

2) It still isn't easy, and they're still living in pain and dying young, and can the gods (him included) really not do anything about that?

The other gods don't get children in the way he does; they see extensions of themselves, weapons, people ready to take up arms in their name. But Dionysus once gnawed on fabric dolls and wooden teethers just the same as these new demigods, and though it's been millennia, growing up with death on every step leaves a lasting mark — especially when he has found kin in his wife about it.

So he knows: the eight-year-old girl is not stupid, immature, or cowardly for crying upon the first stains on her sword; the eleven-year-old boy is not defective because of a burst of random emotion; the fifteen-year-old girl is not foolish for clinging to her toys whenever she can; the sixteen-year-old boy is not weak for getting hurt and not remaining stoic about it.

He was like that once upon a time, too, and is the point not for it to get easier? Has it really not yet been enough time for it to be easy?

[mordenheim]

Interview With A Size-Shifter

This is just a fun little thing I wrote many years ago and just recently updated to fit more with my current version of Victor.  I hope you enjoy! ========================================================== The slender red-maned zebra clops in, his white lab coat trailing in the breeze of the air conditioner.  His seven foot form dwarfs the interviewer as he settles into a chair built especially for him in the reception area of Trivial Matters Incorporated.  He takes a moment to adjust the patch covering his right eye as he relaxes.

What do you think of people who abuse their size?

His voice is a deep bass rumble with a hint of Scottish lilt as he speaks.  “Ah, you get right to the root of things.  Wise..”

“At one time, I couldn't care less whether macros abused their size or not.  I was simply in the business of giving others what they want.”

“However, I came to realize that those who abuse others for pleasure are truly weak.  They disgust me.”

So may I ask you.  Are you a natural giant? Or were you transformed into what you are today.

“I'm a bit of a self-made size-shifter.  Sometimes I change size out of my own control, but that's just how things turned out.” How do you feel about other giants?

“So long as they don't bother me or those I care about, I leave well enough alone.  In fact I have several close friends who are macros or size shifters. However…  If you get in my way…  I guarantee the results will not be pretty.”

How do you feel about the relationships of big folks mating smaller folks?

“I don't have a problem with it…  In fact…  some of us don't have a choice in the matter.”

Do you think your views on the small/large folks will change?

“It is hard to say.  Considering that once, long ago I looked on every living creature as nothing more than a test subject, my views on everyone have changed over time…”

What is the relationship between you and this world/its people?

He leans back in his chair, the metal frame creaking a little.  “Ah, there’s the rub…  I listen to others' troubles and I give them solutions.  Perhaps not always the solution they were looking for, or even wanted…  but I give them precisely what they ask for.”

Are you susceptible to the same moral standards here that you were at your previous place of residence?  Why/Why not?

“I try to obey the laws for the most part, so long as they aren't overly restrictive.  Luckily, with a few exceptions in the interest of science, my own morals are mostly what one would call “good”.”

Is there still that same search for purpose or have you felt you've ascended beyond such a need?

“Parascience is my dream.  The combination of science and magic into one glorious symphony.  Even before my accident that was my drive, and it remains my drive to this day.”

How do you cope with living in a world where things are tiny/large? Like clothing, housing, etc?

“I don't have much to worry about.  I have very large sums of money stashed all over the world.  Anything that I break, either personally or with one of my experiments, is quickly and easily replaced.  As for others…  I am generally very careful not to harm anyone not directly involved in my experiments, however, accidents do happen. As far as clothing, hologram generators are magnificent thing.”

Is there still a sort of symbiosis with the world and its people or are you of the belief you're a god and beyond that need for cooperation?

“They don't meddle in my affairs and I don't meddle in theirs…  much…”

In this world of smaller beings, do you still feel there's someone out there for you?  A Mr. or Mrs. Right? A soul mate?

The zebra leans forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor.  “There has been…  But outliving your love is hard…  and wearing on the heart and soul…  It..  It  changes you… Irrevocably..”

What's your bias in regard to species?  Size?

“I have no bias to anyone great or small, regardless of species, sexual orientation, race, religion…   All are the same to me.”

What do you do to impress a date?

“It’s been a long time…  However, I usually show them my laboratory.. And we have a bit of fun…”

Do you ever wish you were smaller?

“Lately? Often..”

How do the smaller creatures react to you? Friendly? Fearful?

“Usually most others react with fear, once they know what I am.  Smaller or larger.  There have been exceptions over the years, however.”

Where/what do you eat?

He smiles a bit, flashing a mouth full of sharp, interlocking teeth, like a porcelain bear trap.  “Me?  Being a zebra I'd of course be an obligate herbivore, wouldn't I?” How to you practice intimacy with others of different size and were you educated in the risks involved? How do you feel about intimacy with those of different sizes in general?

“I have learned to be very cautious.  You see, that’s where my own problem lies.  Physical pleasure causes me to grow involuntarily. However, I have learned to be gentle and cautious, and still to show my partner a good time, regardless of sex or size.” Do you see merit in those smaller than you?

“Of course.  Only a fool would not.”

How do you feel about others of your same size that have different views than you?  Do you ignore them or confront them?

“So long as they do not interfere with myself or those I care about, to each their own.  However, don't cross that line…  Ever…”

Is there a sort of camaraderie with those of your size regardless of the differences?  Do you still worry about trying to fit in?

“I tend to keep to myself for the most part, so I would say not really.”

Where do you get tools, clothing, or items for your size.

“For tools, I stay at my normal size, for clothing, as before, hologram generators are wonderful.” Do you miss your old life? Or are you enjoying the power you now possess?

“I did miss it once…   however, once I found a way to recreate my condition temporarily in another, things got far more interesting…”

If you are somehow given a serious injury, do you have a physician?

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair once more, “Ever heard the term, “Physician, heal thyself”?”

Do you carry any sort of agreements or truces with those smaller than you?

“Oh yes, many all over the world.  It is only natural in my line of work.”

At your size, is there anything that honestly scares you? Be it a physical threat, or just more mental worries?

“Only insanity and boredom frighten me.  When you've been around as long as I have, one may easily lead to the other.”

Do you sometimes find it hard to not give in to abusing your stature among those smaller than you, what do you do to keep those impulse in check, rather if you bother at all?

“At times, at times.  Then I remind myself that losing control would be a very bad idea as I would have to pack up all of my work and relocate in secret, costing me time, money, and possibly friendships…”

When you first realized your size versus the rest of the world around you, what were your thoughts?

“The first time I grew involuntarily?  My first thought was how great it felt, so hot, so tight, then too tight…  then the screams, oh gods the screams…”

“She is alright now, though…  She came to accept what happened us as an accident and we still see one another from time to time.”

Has your size ever been a liability for you?

“Yes, OFTEN…” A common argument is the ant hill defense, a reply that states a belief of willful disregard for those smaller, weaker than you in the scheme of life. Do you feel that those smaller than you are beneath notice simply because of their size?

“Not at all…”

How do you see those smaller than you, then?

“Everyone is smaller to someone else in terms of size, of power, of intelligence, so really we are all the same.”

Some worry about those of your size, some fear the stereotype. Is this a justified thought line, if not what would you like to explain, or point out to change that view, if at all.

“Unfortunately, it IS justified.  Others have every right to fear macros and they should.  Fear is a good thing.  After all, isn't it right to fear a creature that could wipe out a skyscraper simply by tripping and falling into it?  Common sense, there..”

When you came into your new stature, size what was the first thing you did?

“Made sure my partner was alright…”

What mistakes did you make and learn from?

“I rampaged a single time.  The toll on life and property was devastating.  Never again…”

Did you think on using the power you gained to make a change in the world, or for personal gain, revenge?

He laughed a little darkly as he leaned in closer to the interviewer. “All of the above, to be brutally honest….  I may be one of the nicer size-shifters or macros you may meet, but I am certainly no angel..”

It's inevitable that your appearance around those smaller, perhaps caused a military response, would you care to enlighten us on an experience if that has at all happened?

“It has, however the details of that affair are classified information…” Do you go out of your way to not harm others?

“Yes, I don't intentionally harm anyone without reason.”

If yes, how far would you go to prevent them from being harmed?

“If they are a true innocent, I would risk personal injury to help them. A friend or a loved one?  I would risk my life…  even my soul…” Would you ever intentionally harm others?

“Yes, and I have...”

What were the circumstances?

“To defend those I care about, or in a few cases to avenge them…” How has your size affected your social life, or current love life. Have you lost or gained an admirer? Have you lost a long time love because of your new status? “I’ve tread this earth for a long, long time.  To say I’ve gained and lost friends and loved ones is an understatement.  However, directly related to my condition, yes, I’ve both gained, and lost…”

Has your size brought popularity?  Has it brought you annoyance, or those only seeing you as a sex object given the number of micro/macrophlia lovers that seem to gather on forums and what not on the internet? Do you enjoy this attention, or do you go to lengths to dissuade what may be objectification.

“Actually, there was a I enjoyed the attention.  It meant there was no shortage of partners when I was alone, or volunteers for my experiments….”

What would you wish for most as far as interaction and socialization with your kind, or those smaller? Some things you wish they'd take into account when they encounter you?

“Just… just keep an open mind.  When I first became a size-shifter I has hated, hunted, and feared simply for what I was.  Nobody cared WHO I was, just WHAT I was capable of…  I just wish that would end…”

Smiling, the zebra slowly stands and shakes the interviewer’s hand, his own engulfing it with a surprisingly soft and gentle grip.

“I hope you have all the information you need for your report.  If you will excuse me, I have a few experiments I need to tend to…”

“Unless you would like to get a little more hands on, of course…”

“Answer me a question…”

“What is it YOU desire….?”

[lizzygrantarchives]

Billboard, December 21, 2017

The pop prophet, Lana Del Rey's, 2017 album, 'Lust For Life,' became her second Billboard 200 No. 1 album.

When mysterious, melancholy Lana Del Rey announced her fifth album with a beaming smile and a lead single simply called ‘Love,’ it seemed change was in the wind. Coming on the heels of 2015’s darkly introspective Honeymoon, a Billboard 200 No. 2 album, fans theorized that this would be Del Rey’s ‘happy album.’ Instead, as the 2016 election worked its way into her writing process, Del Rey, 32, metabolized the surrounding chaos into a work both engaged and transportive. “I like the Leonard Cohen quote: ‘There’s a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in,'” Del Rey says. “I feel like this is the year where we’re seeing a lot of cracks — the cracks that have been there forever. But the blessing in [that] is that we get to shine light on the problems that have been in society for a long time, and hopefully fix them. That makes me feel excited, actually.” Along with her longtime collaborator, producer Rick Nowels, Del Rey wove ’60s folk with stripped-down hip-hop percussion and, for the first time in her career, welcomed a thoughtfully eclectic guest roster (including Stevie Nicks, The Weeknd and Playboi Carti). For Del Rey, one of few album-oriented pop artists these days, tapping into the mood of the moment paid off: Lead single ‘Love’ spent two weeks atop the Rock Digital Song Sales chart, and Lust for Life became Del Rey’s second Billboard 200 No. 1.

Lana Del Rey: Honeymoon was like a vanity project, just for me. With this one, I was thinking about things broader than just my relationships, which was nice for me, and probably nice for my fans, too — a bit of a reprieve. John [Janick] and the guys I work with loved ‘Love’ and ‘Lust for Life,’ so those were really the only two singles we thought about. I’m saying ‘singles’ with air quotes — for us, that just means the song’s going to get a video.

John Janick (chairman/CEO, Interscope Geffen A&M): Any project I’ve ever been involved in with her, she knows where she’s going with everything: the idea, the look, the feel. And she had this far in advance [for Lust for Life].

Del Rey: I think a good word [to describe Lust for Life‘s shift in mood] would be present — less from the outside looking in, and a more integrated perspective lyrically. I started writing the darker songs first: ‘Heroine,’ ��Get Free,’ ’13 Beaches.’ So I had to get through all my complaining [laughs]. Then, once I got to be cathartic in that way, I thought, ‘All right, now I want to invite my friends in.” Obviously, the election was happening halfway through my writing process, and I ended up writing “When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing” and “God Bless America – And All the Beautiful Women in It.” All these little things culminated in a body of work.

Janick: I remember going in the studio one day and her playing probably half of what’s on the album now. Hearing ‘Love’ for the first time — it was one of those goose-bump moments.

Del Rey: It started as ‘Young and in Love,’ but I didn’t really like that title; that wasn’t the point of the song. Then I worked with Sean Lennon. The Lennon legacy is so tied in to that one word. So I thought, ‘You know what? I just want to go for it.’ The whole record is pointing its little nose in that direction. And I liked that it was pretty literal — it felt nice and comfortable to not necessarily have layers to all of the singles. That one and “Lust for Life” were kind of just about having fun.

Ben Mawson (manager): Most important to Lana is that her albums are a cohesive body of work. Her writing process is very natural, without directly thinking about radio or singles.

Del Rey: I wanted to see if [Lust for Life] would be heard for what it was really saying. Overall, from what I read, it was interpreted correctly. Which is a good sign for me: It means I’m not seeing things one way and the culture is seeing things the other way. That means you need to check yourself, and I don’t want to check myself. I want to stay in the flow. Maybe I needed a lot of time to be me, all to myself, and just be weird. Who knows why timing works out the way it does? But I really like this record. I think if this was the first record some people heard from me, I’d be really proud of that.

Originally published on billboard.com with the headline 2017 No. 1s: How Lana Del Rey Wrote Her Most Politically-Engaged Album Yet.

[noivysneverland]

I dont normally post politics on here, but some of y'all leftists here are demonizing president Biden way too much. I get it, he wasn't my first choice in 2020 either but some of y'all seem to be insisting on another fascist presidency in november. One that will be fueled by hatred, spite, and outright fury against the very core of the USA.

I get that we're all fucking frustrated with what's happening in Palestine, goodness knows the zion-fascist machine that is running isreal may as well be the second coming of adolf fucking hitler with regards to the outright systematic genocide of the Palestinian people and the destruction of their homes. But I need to posit one itty bitty crucial little question that I think every single pro-Palestine american seems to be actively blocking from their heads is.

Do you really think it would be better under another a god forsaken gop administration, no less a far right one by the previous demon who is the current front runner for the party of modern fascism in this country? I think the answer to that question is easy to figure out. There's more at stake in the world than Palestine as well; what about Ukraine, which for the last two years has been holding out against another fascist invasion in the form of the putrid regime that has actively been working to undermine our own political system here at home in the USA. What do you think a return of the previous disaster in chief would enable the putrid regime to do not only to Ukraine, but to every single former soviet territory. he has just today (feb 10th, 2024) said that he would actively ask and encourage putrid to attack NATO allies and sit out our own military from intervening. While the russian military has been proven far, far less capable than putrid would like to admit, it has proven that it will throw as many people at a conflict as possible, regardless of the cost of the lives involved.

Biden's done some absolutely monumental things. The one I think about the most because I know a lot of friends who have had their lives and livelihoods changed for the better (for now) is what he's done with the price of Insulin. I'm sure ANYONE in this country with Diabetes (an estimated 27,000,000 people by the way) can tell you; putting into place a federal hard maximum on the price of life-saving Insulin and now the out of pocket price for Insulin is $35 per vial. This is down from a 2017 price of TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS ($275). That price we have now, along with so many other things are under a direct threat of being removed if the previous dictator is allowed to run our country again. Along side the ACA, Medicare, Medicaid, and so many other things on a federal level that many americans depend on.

LGBT+ rights, which have already been under attack far more aggressively than ever before in every single red-government state. What do you think will happen if the previous dictator is allowed to run our country again.

If that demon is allowed to enter office again, Project 2025; perhaps the scariest document I have ever read, will be implemented in as many ways as it can. If you haven't looked at the details of that, I really suggest that you do; you will be affected by it. I told myself back in October 2016 that there was absolutely no way that demon could become president. Today, many of you that I've seen on my feeds, not just here but on other social media pages, are going to directly contribute to that demons return to power through your own tinted lenses. What's happening in Palestine is out right genocidal. But some of the loudest voices here are screaming at biden because he can't stop a senate and house that are a majority of the red fascists from forcing their terms on funding Israel. And don't even get me started about the supreme court, which has three demon-appointed "justices" that will remain there for life-time terms.

We all thought that there was no way the demon could become president in 2016. Well, look at where we are now. Will you let it happen again this year, 2024?

[eldritchamy]

Okay so for further context, and for anyone who is interested in a rough synopsis (I say, over an hour before I finish writing this post) of the idea, (bearing in mind I have not watched any Carmilla stuff in actual years and I am remembering this stuff basically off the top of my head, so some of the details might be fuzzy).

Basically my thought after seeing the Carmilla movie was "you know what, this entire thing only happened because of Carmilla's unnamed therapist that we know nothing else about, huh."

That therapist was the one who instigated whatever made Carmilla go back to Elle's house and get her mortality fucked with. Carmilla being a vampire again is a direct result of something that happened entirely off screen and was mentioned only vaguely.

What the fuck is up with that?

So I started asking some logical questions like "what kind of therapist would Carmilla be able to go to?" and "hey what's up with all those weird new reports in the credits where Laura has a bunch of misspelled names like Lauren Horlis?" and "what's up with Mattie's ghost showing up asking them to just deal with weird shit? WHY ISN'T CARMILLA MORE SURPRISED TO SEE THE MESSENGER OF ERESHKIGAL JUST APPEARING IN HER HOUSE???" and "how come nobody ever asked any questions or gave any answers about who the Corvae Corporation were?"

The idea that basically formed in my brain was "how do you continue what is very obviously an unfinished story while answering a LOT of the questions raised by what we've seen so far?"

So the premise of Becoming A Cryptid was that it would pick up IMMEDIATELY where the movie leaves off. (Or rather, during the flight home slightly before the final scene, when Carmilla had time to think about what just happened but not say anything yet). The fic would basically start with Carmilla being very quiet on the flight home and Laura being curious about it (of course) but also assuming that she just had a lot to process.

The first question it was going to answer was "what the fuck is up with this mystery therapist?" And my answer was going to be KindaTV's roughly contemporary series Inhuman Condition. You know, the one with the supernatural therapist that ends with that therapist getting removed from her position.

The bigger reveal, though, would have been Corvae's involvement.

To the best of my knowledge, I am the only person who ever really pieced together who the Corvae probably were and what their relationship to The Dean was.

What we know explicitly from canon:

The Corvae Corporation is a "post-occult resource conglomerate"

They had a LONG standing relationship with Silas University and, in particular, The Dean.

They had a significant financial interest in not only the school but in many of the occult artifacts located in, around, and beneath the campus

The plan left in place in case of the Dean's "demise" placed a pretty significant level of trust in them, far exceeding the trust she had in the Silas Board of Governors (who were mostly just expendable bearers for the four Talismans of Inanna's power)

They continued to pull the strings of her agenda, and push her plan along, even after the Board (especially Mattie) started deviating from that plan and going against her wishes. i.e., they had authority, they knew more or less what her plan was, and they faithfully executed that plan even without being able to deal with her directly

What I was able to infer:

Corvae is sort of like a cross between the Watchers' Council from Buffy and the SCP Foundation, except it's a super wealthy corporation instead of a clandestine government agency. They are very old, very wealthy, very knowledgeable, and control a LOT of magical objects and information from the ancient world.

They are the only ones apart from literal gods (Inanna, Enki, Ereshkigal) who seemed to have knowledge of the Gates of Hell, and they are the ones Inanna trusted with her plan above all others

They are probably from as far back in history as those gods

Which means they are most likely a modern derivative of a mercantile group that dates back to Ur and the Dilmun civilization, around 5-6000 years ago. They probably originated as a group of traders out of Ur (the seat of power for the Sumerian god Sin, Inanna's father) and were worshippers of his. They would have been wealthy and influential at the time, and certainly would have had dealings in Uruk, where Inanna's most prominent worship was.

Now. Why should "resources" be limited to ancient artifacts with magical properties? They are a corporation, after all. Why not, say, "Human resources" (remember: they contractually owned like 30% of the students' livers)? Or in this case, Inhuman resources.

I basically came up with the idea that Corvae had moved in after that one therapist gets ousted from her job, and they take over ownership of the practice, putting one of their own people in place there instead. This served two purposes: 1. it allowed there to be a reason for Carmilla's therapist to have some kind of involvement in things that were tied to her past, and 2. anyone she was likely to get a supernatural therapist recommendation from was probably affiliated with or influenced by Corvae anyway.

It basically was my way of explaining how the entire premise of the movie plot even happened. But I also needed to deal with where the movie leaves us story wise.

It ENDS with Carmilla renouncing that divine spark that Inanna used to restart her heart, and she goes back to being a vampire. This creates a problem for Laura and Carmilla as a couple: only one of them is aging (again).

There are ALSO a lot of loose ends in the world with Corvae meddling in the affairs of the supernatural, and maybe other victims of Lophiiformes trapped with their souls in limbo.

And there was that weird scene with Mattie, where Carmilla wasn't surprised to see her, and wasn't surprised to be recruited to go investigate and solve some supernatural problem.

SO.

Laura made a deal with Ereshkigal once. And she made good on that deal, even at the cost of her own life. Ereshkigal was EXTRAORDINARILY generous in allowing Carmilla to bargain for Laura's life at all, much less giving her such an easy riddle. The goddess of death had already taken an interest.

"All the dead are hers," and she does not like to give them back. But she DID give Laura back. WHY?

Because Laura made good on a deal, and she is a VERY good meddler in the supernatural world. Ereshkigal does not like when the dead are KEPT from her. She does not like when someone fucks around in her business. And Corvae fucks around in her business.

The Corvae Corporation would have been a major antagonist group in the fic. Essentially Mattie shows up and offers Laura what amounts to a warlock pact: I give you something to investigate, something to meddle in, and you go fix it for me. Do this, and I return the favor by withholding your death. You get to stay with Carmilla for the duration of her supernatural life. I solve your problem for you, and in return you solve problems for me. Ereshkigal is willing to offer Laura this deal because, again, Laura lived up to her end of the last deal (no pun intended). She knows Laura is a person CAPABLE of fixing her problems, and she knows she can TRUST Laura to do it in exchange for this specific deal.

And Ereshkigal is willing to make THIS SPECIFIC DEAL because Death is the only forever there is. What is a few decades to the god of death? Everything will be hers eventually. Letting one meddlesome mortal stick around longer than usual, in exchange for all the Corvae bullshit she can disrupt? That's a worthy trade. One gets a pass, for now, because she can put a stop to SO many things Corvae might do that she's not particularly happy about.

The old laws of the Underworld are very clear: the number of souls in Ereshkigal's domain CANNOT DECREASE. It IS possible for one soul to leave, if another soul takes its place. This is a key part of Innana's Descent to the Underworld. She was permitted to leave, but her lover at the time was not mourning her adequately and so he was the one she told the demons that accompanied her to take in her place. Laura would be allowed a few extra decades on earth in exchange for all the souls wrongly kept from Ereshkigal returning to her.

Remember all those news clips at the end where Laura's name is wildly misspelled, and some of them are about weird things like a Fountain of Youth? What if all the Luane Horleys are actually ALIASES? What if they're cover identities (bad ones, but she would refuse to use an anagram on principle) that get set up so Laura can go to strange places and investigate strange problems on behalf of Ereshkigal?

And she just becomes this weirdo who pops up all over the place and is always involved in something weird, and her name keeps changing but she doesn't seem to age, and she's always with some vampire girl who's oddly charmed by her, almost like the VAMPIRE is the one enthralled by this mysterious reporter who just keeps being involved in supernatural nonsense.

So Laura Hollis gets to stay with Carmilla for a very long time, do all the investigative journalism she wants, solve all kinds of mysteries on behalf of her patron, and live out her wildest Scoobies From Buffy fantasies, all while hoping no one notices it's the same mysterious girl at the site of all of these Weird Occurrences. The solution to all of her problems is just getting to live her best gay life with Carmilla.

because Becoming A Cryptid Is Gay Culture.

you know, I really DID have a great idea for a Carmilla fanfic back in the day that I never got around to writing

I wonder if anyone would be into it if I had the spoons to write it

the movie left off with some SERIOUS unanswered questions that would be really interesting to explore, and I had some GOOD ideas for how to explore them in a compelling way

and "Becoming A Cryptid Is Gay Culture" would have been a fantastic title for it too

[teyvattherapist]

Once you write for Baal, I'll request her with Mona and Kazuha with the god of fate.

Like the usual

I also added Thoma per your other inquiry!

tags: m!reader/Baal, m!reader/Mona, m!reader/Kazuha, m!reader/Thoma, God!Reader, Khaenri'ah spoilers, Inazuma archon quest spoilers, just spoilers in general.

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Khaenri’ah wouldn’t have had any survivors if it hadn’t been for a particular man that seemed unfazed by the battlefield the once prosperous nation of humanity became. Neither Khaenri’ahn nor from Celestia, simply an outlander. Despite showing great fighting prowess and strategic skill, Khaenri’ah had still fallen under the watchful gaze of the man. Of course, this was just a legend, a small rumour only known by the most curious of historians or academics. And even then, it’s debated. With the legacy of Khaenri’ah long gone, all that was left was anecdotal evidence.

Baal

-Divinity, humanity, both pale in comparison to eternity. You were nothing more than something in her way. Much like the rest of Khaenri’ah as a whole. To her you were nothing more than inferior. And she didn’t stop to take the time to investigate like Morax had nor did she take the time to recognise the marks of stars like Barbatos.

-Her ideals quickly shattered when she realised Divine Punishment means nothing when faced by another of her status. A divine being capable of braving the lightning’s glow. Too prideful to admit her defeat she proved to be quite a thorn in your side during the war. But even one whose ideal is closest unto Heaven cannot compete with the one who controlled Fate.

-Baal has all but forgotten the faraway God, too focused on her own ideals, too focused on herself in the present day to remember such an aimless point in time. In a closed off nation tucked away on the sea, talk of your presence in Teyvat went unheard by the Raiden Shogun.

The 100th vision hunt decree ceremony was commemorative. The Goddess turned to face the crowd of onlookers, violet eyes narrowing at an almost familiar face standing towards the back. You lifted your head to her, flashing the Shogun a smile before pulling the notebook from the black and gold cloak. Almost too quickly her attention turned back to the man kneeling at the foot of the statue. Her 100th vision.

Baal lifted her hand, summoning the pyro vision to her and despite the blond’s attempts at keeping his vision they were futile as it soared through the air towards the Goddess. You almost dropped your pen when Aether pushed by you, using his newfound electro abilities as a boost to snatch the vision. An interesting but not surprising turn of events that was scrawled into the notebook.

You watched as she brought her blade up to strike an unconscious Aether. The taller blond managed to get his binds off, throwing the polearm that she then deflected. The blowback caused Aether and Paimon to go flying backwards into the blond. As they ran off she gave the order to seize them under the decree, turning back to look up at the statue. That was your cue to leave, the work had been done for now.

When Baal turned to look back at the crowd she got the glimpse of that cloak that seemed to come back to haunt her departing from the crowd.

Mona

-Ah the great astrologist Mona. One who believes fate cannot be changed nor reversed, merely accepted. How funny an outlook. Though you’d never tell her that, she is for all that she’s worth, a wonderful astrologist. But that was the thing with mortal magicians, even they could get things such as fate wrong.

-She tried only once to glimpse into the mysterious stranger’s destiny. But when one has no destiny, what does she see? The threads of fate themselves have barred her vision into him. To her he is an uncertain piece in what should be absolute certainty.

-This however just makes her curious to know more. She thinks she’s being sneaky as she follows you around to try and garner more information. But Mondstadt isn’t all that big and her hat is very telling.

You narrowed your eyes at the telltale sign of somebody watching you, you lifted your head to look around but there were no more stares than the usual ones that came with being a stranger in a small nation. You did notice, however, a very familiar witch occupying herself with the fruit stand. Could she even afford that? Probably not. You bowed your head to Flora, tucking the windwheel aster behind your ear as you made off.

Mona put the apple back, waiting a few moments before she followed you down the cobblestone path. This was the problem with magicians in every world, always far too curious for their own good. You turned a corner to try and get her off your tail, you had far too much work to do to deal with her nosing around. She was smart, though. You had to give her that as you pressed your back against the wall of the alleyway, waiting for her to go by.

“I just have a question!” Mona popped her head into the alleyway, figures you wouldn’t be able to escape her. Mona looked around before stepping into the alleyway. “You are not from this world and sand clouds my vision every time I try to view your true nature. I am merely intrigued by this turn of events.” She put her hands on her hips, green eyes trying to discern something about you. She was certainly blunt, at least she knew what she wanted at the end of the day.

Her stare was intense as she tried to see through you, but whenever she looked too hard she found herself attempting to shake off invisible strings. You merely offered her a smile, what’s the point in lying to somebody you may not ever see again? “I’m a record keeper of sorts. You have impressive skill, Mona.” The compliment had her smirking, praise would be her undoing. But it at least changed the subject. What a fascinating woman.

Kazuha

-Unsurprisingly or perhaps surprisingly you met him while he fled from the Raiden Shogun’s forces. As in he ran directly into you and nearly dropped the dead vision he was still clutching in his hand. Interesting isn’t it? What a simple change of cloak can do to conceal one’s identity. Always intervening whether or not you should, that seemed to be the staple when it came to Teyvat.

-You did not spend much time with Kazuha beyond that. His path was his to walk and you would not meddle further. Though you knew that he knew, somebody as observant as he would be able to tell, wouldn’t he?

-That was a while ago though. Now you once more found yourself face to face with Kaedehara Kazuha. Or well, less face to face and more in the same area.

“I hope you can afford all these mercs!” Beidou called as she and her crew rushed into battle against the Shogun’s forces. Far enough away to not involve yourself, but close enough to listen to the resulting conversations. You jotted things down, whatever seemed important in the moment, minor details you may forget, a rough draft, if one will.

Kazuha lifted his head after greeting Gorou, eyes scanning the rocks jutting out of the nearby sea on the beach that had become a location of endless bloodshed. And for a moment, he faltered, red eyes widening before narrowing. He should have expected this. You always seemed to be where big things happened. “Kazuha, watch out!” Beidou warned and Kazuha snapped out of it, returning to the battle.

The rain began to start and you safely tucked your notebook away as you watched the rest of the battle. Ultimately Sara called back her forces when Kokomi showed up, the Shogun’s army quickly retreating from the bloody battlefield to rethink their strategy. You held your hand up, rain soaking through your glove. The battlefield cleared itself of most soldiers, Gorou, Beidou, Kazuha, two soldiers, and Aether remained to talk to one another.

Kazuha turned, looking over his shoulder and back at the sea around him. He wondered if you’d come, help like you had helped him back then. He lifted a bandaged hand, no doubt the same hand you had once given him bandages to cover the injury from clasping a dying vision. In turn you gave him a wave. All these people whose lives you have impacted in some way or another. Small things here and there. You wondered how much he knew of your deeds.

Thoma

“State your business here!”

“Oh- he’s a friend! He’s with us.” Aether interrupted the teahouse lady before she could say anything else. The woman huffed but conceded, allowing you to move past her and towards Aether and the taller blond from the ceremony. The teahouse door was opened and you stepped inside with them, pulling your notebook out to take notes. “Thoma, Ayaka this is… Well he doesn’t have a name.” Aether turned his head to look at you and you merely shrugged.

“You may refer to me as the Recordkeeper. Ha, that’s kind of like the Doctor.. I’ll have to write that down.” You make a note in the front of your notebook. Ayaka, Thoma, and Paimon look confused but Aether understood the reference. At least. “I’m merely here to listen. Pretend I’m not here, yes?” And with reassurance from your traveler friend, they did just that. You noted their plans, their ideals, where they’d go. It was all fascinating. A resistance against a God. The last time that happened…

You shook the thoughts, that was then, this is now. You cannot get involved again. Ayaka stood to leave, saying her goodbyes. Aether was gone next, a promise to meet again. That left you with Thoma. “Are you sure you don’t have a name? I feel a job title shouldn’t be a name.” He joked, leaning on his elbows as he watched you write into your notebook. Your pen stopped against the pages, the edge of the D growing thicker. “At least, I think that’s your job, right?”

You looked up from your book, setting the pen down against the pages. He was curious to say the least, despite everything that happened earlier. “I suppose it is my job, yes. I keep records. And I’m known by many names Fate Weaver, the Recordkeeper, God of Fate, I believe I’ve also been referred to as the God of Time once.. That’d be incorrect though.” For a moment something unrecognisable passes through his green eyes before his smile is back on his face.

“How about we call you (Name)? That way you don’t have to admit what and who you really are everywhere you go.”

“(Name)? Hm.. Very well.”

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

[lazyangeltreemoney]

Emergency Contact

Oneshot, Rich Kid AU

Description: James Barnes has been Y/N’s best friends since they were kids, even though they seem to come from completely different worlds. So much so that Bucky lists Y/N as his emergency contact, but the spoiled rich kid has to learn the hard way that Y/N has a life too.

Pairings: Rich-Kid!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5991

Warnings: swearing, Bucky being a brat, car crash, hospitals, character injury, police stations, ANGST

A/N: this one is angsty AF and involves two idiots being in love. also gotta love a little bit of feisty!reader, hope y’all enjoy.

“So Y/N the demo sounds amazing-” 

RING RING RING

Y/N almost jumped out of her seat trying to silence her phone. Sat in the big office, the man sat opposite her with lots of big gold records in frames behind him gave her a judgemental stare. 

“Sorry about that, as you were saying, Mr Graves,” Y/N spoke, trying to sound as professional as possible. 

She was so close, this could be it, her big break. Finally, she sat in the office with Mr Jimmy Graves, one of the biggest music producers on the scene. All the fame and fortune, she could almost taste it. It would make all those nights singing in shitty bars worth it. 

“As I was saying, the demo is amazing, your voice, out of this world, but I’m afraid that you’re not the look we’re going for at the moment.” Mr Graves finished on a low note. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N choked out, no, no this couldn’t be happening. 

Just as Mr Graves tried to downplay crushing her dreams by offering her a role as a backing singer on some other artists track, her infernal phone rang again. 

RING RING RING

No longer caring about anything the man had to say anymore, she answered it. 

“Hello, who is this?” Y/N seethed out, she tried her best to not sound pissed off but she was not having a good day. 

“Hello, is this Miss L/N, I’m calling from the 87th precinct, you’ve been listed as James Barnes emergency contact, I’m sorry ma’am but you’ll have to come down to the station,”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to be speeding on the way to a police precinct but when it came to Bucky Y/N didn’t care. Parking her car up by the sidewalk, she rushed out into the precinct. When she walked in one of the detectives practically swept her up and led her to where they were holding Bucky. 

The detective looked tired and was holding a cup of coffee. As Y/N followed him down the halls towards the interrogation room he seemed to look more and more pissed off. Y/n could only assume he had been interrogating Bucky, god he could be an ass when he wanted to. She even felt sorry for the detective. 

They eventually reached a room at the end of the hall. The detective opened it to show Bucky handcuffed to the desk. The room had dark walls and a blinding white light directly over Bucky. Behind him was a one-way mirror where Y/n could see some bloody marks on Bucky’s back. His face was bruised, along with his hands looking bloody. 

“Jesus Buck.” Y/N sighed at the sight of him. 

Bucky raised his head to look at her. He was so focused on her that he didn’t even look at the detective that uncuffed him. 

“Looks like Daddy’s bailed you out, my superiors have told me to let you go… don’t let me see you again, Barnes.” The detective warned him in a low tone. 

“And I was about to add you to the Christmas card list.” seethed sarcastically as he got up out of the chair. 

Bucky knew the drill and knew where to collect his stuff. He walked past Y/N and down the corridor, completely blanking her. It’s fine, not as if I’m here to pick your ass up away. Y/N looked back at the detective who was giving her an apologetic stare. 

“You his girlfriend or something?” The detective asked. 

“Nope, do I dare ask what he was taken in for?” Y/N winced as if she was bracing for impact. 

“Assault and destruction of property, it was a bar fight that got out of hand apparently.” The detective explained. 

“Thank you, Detective.” Y/N sighed and went to follow after Bucky. 

“Ma’am if I could offer some advice, rich boys like Barnes take everything for granted, don’t let him take you for granted as well.” The detective’s wisdom, however, didn’t sit right with her. 

She wanted to argue back at him, tell him that he didn’t know Bucky but Bucky was calling her from down the end of the hall telling her to hurry up. The detective only flashed her a look of ‘I told you so’ before Y/n went racing out after Bucky. 

When Y/N got outside Bucky was smoking a cigarette. He looked a little more cooled down from earlier but still relatively annoyed. The orange embers at the end of the cigarette seemed to illuminate him in an amber glow. Even bruised and bloodied he still looked beautiful. Y/n had known Bucky since they were children and she had always thought he was beautiful. Bucky glanced up at Y/N and took one long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. 

“How the hell did my Dad even know I was here?” Bucky groaned as he walked with Y/n to her car. 

“You’re Dad probably knows one of the officers, still it’s nice of him to bail you out for what, the tenth time this month?” Y/N argued with him, she really didn’t want to fight with Bucky right now but sometimes it was the only way to get anything through his thick skull. 

“What does it matter to you?” Bucky argued back, stopping dead in his tracks. 

Because I care about you, you idiot.

“You know listing me as your emergency contact doesn't mean I’m at your beck and call at any point.”  Y/N tried to remind him that she had a life as well. 

“Please, I’m not taking you away from much, your nights of singing in dirty bars and songwriting for cheesy commercials are oh so important to you all of a sudden?” Bucky questioned in his ever sarcastic tone. 

“God, could you stop being such a spoiled rich kid for two seconds.” Y/N groaned

“I’m just saving you some time Doll, you really think you’re gonna make it big one day like this?” Bucky’s sarcastic questions were cutting through her like a knife. Every harsh word from him was another stab at her. How could he say such things? Had he always been this harsh and Y/N was just blind to it? 

“Just because I have to work for what I want doesn’t make it impossible Barnes, I haven’t been gifted everything I want like you.” Y/N was trying to hold back the tears, god she really hated fighting with him. 

“Y/N, that’s the only way you get anything in life, but I’ll tell you what, if you want to spend the rest of your life singing in the same bars uninterrupted then I’ll take you off my emergency contact, hell I’ll take you off my whole contact list,” Bucky yelled at her. 

Maybe it was the fact that she had just had her dreams crushed once tonight already made Bucky’s words sting so much. The fact that she had been told she doesn’t have the right look, the fact that Bucky, who had once believed so heavily in her dreams, was now trying to tear them down. Spite is an excellent motivator, however. 

“Fuck you Bucky,” Y/N wasn’t sure what came over her but she shoved Bucky into the lampost, she felt god damn feral and Bucky could only watch her in shock. “I’m going to make it so fucking big, my names going to be in lights, in every talk show hosts mouth, my songs are going to be on the radio and I’m going to sing in the biggest arenas on this planet and I’m going to earn every second of it, meanwhile you will just be some spoiled rich kid who is only known as George Barnes’ brat.” Y/N’s words dripped out of her like venom as she walked away from Bucky. 

It was only when she had her back turned could she let the tears finally escape her. She didn’t care that she was meant to pick him up, he could walk home for all she cared. Right now she needed to be as far away from him as possible. As she drove herself home could think of Bucky and how things had become so messed up. 

He was once such a sweet and kind boy, being her best friend and supporting her for as long as she could remember. She remembered the nights when Bucky wouldn’t miss a single one of her performances, always insisting every time she sang was better than the last. Now, he was almost unrecognisable. It was as if time had taken the kind boy and replaced him with a selfish and cruel man. Y/N decided that night that she didn’t need Bucky, that she was going to make it big without him and it was going to be glorious. 

The crowd applauded as Y/N bowed slightly and bid the crowd goodnight. Stepping down from the stage another singer walked up on the stage and introduced themselves. A year had passed since Y/N left Bucky outside that police precinct and she was actually doing pretty well for herself. 

Less than a month after the fight she had managed to get a job at a classy club in Manhattan full time. It was owned by a wealthy man named Loki who seemed to love Y/N’s voice more than anything else in the world. He paid her well and let her have her pick of the setlist, luck seemed to suddenly be in her favour. For nine months it was bliss… until James Fucking Barnes brought the club off Loki and became the new owner. 

Y/N had no proof but she was convinced Bucky had brought the place purely to spite her. That he was desperate to make her feel as if she couldn’t do anything without him. It’s not even as if Y/N could have left, where else was she going to get a job she loved that paid her this well? So for the past three months, she had been avoiding Bucky like the plague. Only talking to him when absolutely necessary, not caring that he was now her boss. 

Every night that Bucky knew Y/N was performing he was there at the club. Every night he would listen to her angelic voice, watch her take the crowds breath away as she sang and every night he would realise how wrong he was. Y/N would walk on stage in a beautiful dress that would always leave him tongue-tied and make his heart stop. You would think six months away from her would have given him time to figure out what to say to her… but it didn’t. How do you apologise for being an ass to your best friend for years? 

He didn’t mean to become such a monster, but power had grown on him like a tumour. He felt untouchable, nothing he did matter anymore. Any problem he had he could simply throw money on and it would disappear. Anyone he wanted usually wanted him just as much. Soon he became as cold as his money. Even his childhood best friend couldn’t make him come back to reality. 

Y/N leaving also made Bucky have another heartbreaking realisation… he loved her. When Y/N walked away from him that night at first he tried to not care. He still went out, got into fights, danced with whoever he liked and drank as much as he wanted. But none of it filled the hole in his heart. It was in a noisy night club with a girl trying to climb on his lap that he realised that he would much rather be in Y/N’s small apartment and having Y/N cuddle up against him. He missed the nights where they would talk about everything and nothing all at once. The nights where they would drink and Y/n would get the courage to show him the new songs she’d been working on. 

When he found out that Y/N was singing at the Heimdal, a club that his Dad was looking to buy, he leapt at the chance. He hoped that by becoming her boss she would have to talk to him, they would have a heartwarming reunion and somehow fall in love. However, Y/N had been cold and curt to Bucky the second he walked back into her life.

Y/N waltzed over to the bar, feeling absolutely parched after her last set. Sam, the bartender, handed her a glass of water and then handed her another drink. This one looked like some kind of fruity cocktail, definitely not what she’d ordered. Y/n shot him a confused look. 

“It’s from him again,” Sam sighed giving her an apologetic look, “It’s here if you want it.”

“I won’t.” Y/N grimaced. 

Bucky’s new tactic to get her to talk to him wasn’t even talking to her, but to have Sam always give her some fancy drink after her set. Guess he’s still just throwing money at his problems. Annoyed, Y/N sat down on one of the bar stools and took another sip of water. She knew she shouldn’t have but briefly looking over her shoulder she saw Bucky sat in one of the clubs’ booths. He did look a little better than when she last saw him. He'd cut his hair shorter and shaved his beard, that combined with his navy suit made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. 

However, the sight of a girl sat next to him, clearly trying to get in his lap made Y/N cringe. One second he was buying Y/N drinks and the next he was getting off with other girls. A small amount of jealousy boiled in her stomach… but she couldn’t say why. Y/N had watched him go on plenty of dates during college, she never felt jealous then but now she can’t stand the sight of Bucky and this bimbo. 

Y/N was pulled from her thoughts by a stranger sitting next to her. He called over to Sam asking for a scotch and gestured to Y/N.

“-And another round for the Lady when she finishes her drink.” The man spoke. 

“What’s the occasion?” Y/n asked cautiously at him with a raised brow. 

“Nothing much just heard the most angelic voice in America, is all.” The man said nonchalantly with a smirk on her face. 

A slight blush appeared on Y/N’s face and she moved a strand of hair behind her ear. No one had complimented her on her voice like that before, not even Bucky. Trying to not seem too fluster, Y/N sat up a little straighter.

“So what brings you here tonight, Mr…?” Y/N asked, giving a genuine smile. 

“Tony Stark, a friend of mine kept saying that they had an actual angel perform here, turns out he wasn’t wrong.” He took another sip of his drink and winked at Y/N. 

“Wait, Stark as in Stark Records…” Y/N whispered the last part as the realisation hit her. 

Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Records had just brought her a drink and said that she liked her voice, called it angelic in fact. 

“Yes, don’t tell me you’re going to faint.” Tony teased 

“No promises.” Y/n let out a faint laugh, still in shock.

Tony and Y/N had been chatting briefly, he asked her about what music is liked, the conversation moved onto Y/N’s original music and Tony was practically begging to hear some demos. Y/N matched his excitement, this was the happiest she had felt in so long. Tony listened to one of her songs through her headphones and he knew that she was going to be his next star. 

“So, what do you say that you stop singing for Barnes and start singing for me, I’ve been looking for a new star and honestly Y/N, you’d be perfect.” Tony offered. 

“Are you serious, you sure I don’t have the wrong look or something?” Y/N asked meekly, her insecurities getting the better of her.

“Sweetheart, anyone who doesn’t like looking at you has something wrong with them.” Tony smiled back at her. 

Many of his current stars were once like Y/N. Immensely talented but scared they weren’t the right look. Tony, however, knew from experience that someone as talented as Y/N didn’t need to follow some look. 

Y/N was about to accept Tony’s offer when she heard a giggle behind her. 

“James, at least wait till we’re back at yours.” The girl seemed to squeal. 

Even now, James Fucking Barnes seemed to be taking her spotlight. It was childish, the jealousy and silent treatment but Bucky seemed to bring out the worst in her. Y/N let out a frustrated huff and then she saw the fruity cocktail Sam had given her.

“Actually Sam, I'll take that drink,” Y/N smirked, grabbing the tall glass. “If you’ll excuse me for one second.” 

Bucky had decided to have another drink, telling himself that after this one he would finally work up the courage to talk to Y/N. That was the plan, it was the plan he had made over three hours ago, now he had some random girl by his side who was causing a scene. Bucky knew these types of girls all too well, the ones who wanted the tabloids to be going nuts with seeing a girl hanging off his arms. Bucky was trying to make it clear that he wasn’t interested but this one was persistent and the drink was beginning to catch up with him. 

Just as he was about to tell the girl to go far, far away he felt a splash of cold water on his face. He jumped out of his chair in shock and was ready to call security when he looked up to see it was Y/N who had thrown the drink of him. 

“You can keep your drinks,” Y/N began, placing the now empty glass on his table, “and I quit.” A satisfied smirk appeared on her face as she waltzed away from him. 

Bucky was gobsmacked, the whole room was staring at him, even the band had stopped playing. Bucky could only watch Y/N walk towards a man by the bar. He desperately wanted to chase after her but the girl who had been on his lap most of the night was now whining non-stop. 

“Ugh James I think some of it got on my dress, this is PRADA you bitch, JJaaammmess call security on her!” She was like an angry chihuahua. 

Y/N could hear the girls whining at Bucky and it only made her pride swell. Have fun with her tonight ‘James’. She sauntered towards Tony who could only chuckle at Y/N’s actions. 

“You’re going to be a handful aren’t you.” Tony raised a brow at her. 

“Well, there’s nothing like a good bit of publicity,” Y/N smirked. 

With that Y/N left the club for the last time on Tony’s arm and with Bucky left hopelessly behind. To her, it seemed like a fitting start to her new life. 

Five years had passed since she first met Tony. He had become her mentor, teaching her how to truly make a lasting impression on audiences and how to act now that she was under the media's watchful eye. 

With every new song Y/N released, her fame only grew more and more. In a mere five years, she had become an icon with her voice and ‘angelic’ style of dress. Tony’s words the first night she met became something of a mantra to Y/N. True to her word, she was bigger and better than she ever believed she could be. She had proved Bucky wrong at every chance she was given… even if he wasn’t around to see it. 

Y/N had just finished tonight’s performance and was cooling down in her dressing room. No matter how many times she performed to thousands of people, she still needed some quiet time after to make all the adrenaline leave her body. She’d changed out of her costume and simply had on a silk robe as she removed her makeup. The silence of the room was a stark contrast to the screaming crowds Y/N had been in front of earlier but she liked it. It was something to keep her grounded. 

Just as Y/N finished removing her makeup her phone rang. Tony made fun of her for being one of the biggest names in America and still having the same phone from five years ago. Something about the nostalgia of it was comforting. Despite her fame and fortune, Y/N never wanted to forget everything she had because she worked for it. She didn’t recognise the number but nonetheless, she answered the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Is this Y/N L/N… the actual Y/N L/N speaking?” A voice asked on the other line. 

“Yes, who is this?” Y/N replied, there weren’t many people these days who had her number.

“I’m a nurse at St. Andrews hospital, we’ve recently had to admit James Barnes and he’s listed you as his emergency contact,” 

By some miracle, Y/N had been touring in the same state where Bucky was. Tony had warned Y/N against it, telling her that the paparazzi would be on her like vultures and ‘wasn’t Barnes the same guy you threw your drink on.’ But she couldn’t just ignore him, she never could. 

Y/N tried to dress as casually as possible and wore a pair of sunglasses in hopes that she wouldn’t be spotted. As she walked up to the reception she felt like cursing whatever cruel God was going to bring James Barnes thundering back into her life. 

It just had to be from a hospital, I haven't had one phone call from him in years and when I finally do it’s because he’s hurt himself… I guess something will never change. 

Y/N told herself she would just see if he was okay if he was then she could simply walk away and never see him again. The lady on reception told her that he was in room 104, so Y/n walked down the corridor trying to hold her head high. No matter how hard she tried, there was an uneasy pit of worry forming inside her. What if Bucky was seriously hurt? What if he was dying? All the worst possible scenarios seemed to be forming in her mind. She needed to find Bucky and she needed to find him now. 

Before she knew it, Y/n was running towards his room. Acting almost on impulse she heaved the door open to see Bucky lying on the hospital bed. At first glance, Bucky seemed to be fine with only a couple of scratches and bruises on him but then Y/n looked at him properly. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me? But they weren’t… Bucky’s left arm was gone. 

Bucky looked up to see some girl standing in his room. She was wearing a cream trench coat and sunglasses as if she was from old Holywood. There was a second of uneasy silence when Bucky was about to explain that she had the wrong room when she finally spoke up.

“Bucky,” Her voice quivered as she walked closer to him. She removed her sunglasses and Bucky could have sworn his heart stopped beating then and there. 

He had seen so much of her, in the papers, magazines and on almost every billboard in the country. True to her word she had become a star, bigger and brighter than ever. However, no matter how many times he saw her on paper it didn’t come close to seeing her in person. 

“Jesus Buck,” She sighed when she was finally right next to him, “What happened to you?” 

Bucky looked down to where his arm should’ve been but instead all he could see was disgusting scar tissue peeking out from his bandage. There wasn’t much to say other than he had been his usual self and this time it nearly killed him. He was speeding down a dark country road without a care in the world when the car spun out of control and hit another car driving the other way. By a miracle, the other driver hadn’t been hurt but fate wasn’t going to let Bucky get away scot-free. Bucky looked back up to Y/N, he didn’t want to admit to her that after all these years he was still being an idiot. 

“You were right you know, you made it bigger than anyone ever thought you could be and you did earn every single bit of it all by yourself,” Bucky began to speak. His voice sounded rough and strained as he talked. Every word that came from his mouth seemed to break Y/N’s heart. 

“You were right about me as well… I’m nothing more than some spoiled rich kid.” Bucky seemed to hang his head in shame. 

“Oh, Bucky, you’re so much more than that,” Y/N instantly felt the guilt from their argument wash over her. In all these years she never considered that what she said might have hurt Bucky. 

“No I am, I’m pathetic... I can’t even hold you in my arms… I always thought the next time I saw you I would get to hold you-” Bucky choked up, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

Y/N’s heart broke at the sight. Acting as if no time had passed, Y/n kneeled down next to him and took his head in her hands, wiping away his tears. 

“I’ve felt so numb for so long Y/N, I haven’t felt anything in five years until you walked through that door,” Bucky admitted. 

“You have no idea what it was like to hear your name for the first time in five years, pretty sure my heart stopped.” Y/N’s face carried the same pained expression as his. 

That was when it dawned on Bucky, he never did remove her from his emergency contact. Part of him was beginning to wonder why she had suddenly appeared in the hospital. An awkward silence fell between them. They hadn’t seen each other in so long and they didn’t part on the best terms but right now Bucky needed Y/N. He needed the girl who became his friend when he was 11, the girl who cared for him more than words could say but also called up out for all his bullshit. So that’s when he asked her,

“I know I have no right to ask you, but please don’t go, please?” Bucky begged. 

At that moment Y/N released how broken Bucky was. In all of her life Bucky seemed to demand everything, so used to having everything at his beck and call. This was the first time in her life she could recall Bucky actually asking for something.

“I’m not going anywhere Bucky, I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” Y/N told him. 

She meant it with every fibre in her body. There was some cruel silver lining in this whole story. That this tragic night needed to happen to bring them back to each other. Y/N stayed with Bucky all night, even when they tried to kick her out after visiting hours, Y/N merely dropped her name and they let her stay all night. 

Bucky had been given some heavy pain meds and was fast asleep but still, Y/N refused to leave his side. He could have died tonight. Those words played over in her mind like a bad record. It’s what made her realise that she had spent over six years without her best friend. That she had abandoned him when he needed her the most. Y/N didn’t even have a good reason for abandoning him other than pettiness and stubbornness. 

Then Y/N’s phone rang, it was Tony and Y/N already knew he was going to be pissed. 

“Hey, Tones,” Y/N answers trying to sound as sweet as possible. 

“Well if it isn’t my Darling protege, tell me Y/N in all teachings have you truly learnt nothing?” Tony’s sarcastic tone made Y/N pull away slightly from the phone. As badly as she wanted to hang up on him then and there, it would have only made him angrier. 

“Tony,” Y/N sighed down the phone, hoping she could calm him down. 

“Oh no you’re not talking your way out of this, there’s currently about 100 reporters and paps outside the hospital as we speak and they’re sure as hell not leaving without some answers,” 

Y/N tried to cut in but Tony was very clearly not finished with his rant. 

“-Answers as to why The Y/N L/N suddenly ditched her own after-party for some random guy in a hospital bed, what Bonzo story are you going to try and float here?” Tony groaned down the phone. 

“I don’t know, okay!” Y/N yelled back, her sweet exterior finally broken down, “He just called and I came running, it’s always been the same old schtick… it’s like I can’t fucking help myself,” Y/N’s voice wasn’t as harsh as Tony’s there was still a magnitude in the words she said. 

She could have simply not come and told the lady that Bucky was trying to pull a fast one but she didn’t. Instead, she put everything in her life on hold just to make sure he was okay and the worst part? She would do it again in a heartbeat. 

“Look I can take care of the reporters, claim that it’s a close family friend but I need you to do something for me,” Tony sighed, “I need you to promise me that you won’t give everything up for him… whatever you two have isn’t worth losing everything you worked for.” 

Y/N didn’t have the strength to keep arguing with him or anyone else. Going through the motions, Y/N simply hung up and looked back up at Bucky. He was fast asleep, the pain meds kicking in at last. That was when an awful thought hit her, she could leave now… he’s alive, you’ve done your duty… but then what? Wait another five years until he gets hurt again? She wanted to stay for him but it couldn’t be like last time. Things needed to change. 

When Bucky woke up it was nearly 10 am, man the pain meds must’ve knocked him out cold. He glanced around the room, there were nurses, monitors and IV drips all around him but no Y/N. Had she snuck out in the night? Bucky couldn’t have blamed her if she had, one night wasn’t going to make up for the near-decade he had spent being an ass. 

“Rise and shine, Handsome,” A nurse called over to him as she checked over his vitals. 

Bucky could only give her a small nod of acknowledgement, his mind too preoccupied with Y/N. 

“Something on your mind there, handsome,” The nurse kept pestering him. 

“His name is James,” 

Bucky pushed himself up to see it was Y/N standing by the door holding a coffee and a couple of bags. Her tone towards the nurse was flat and unamused. Something that made Bucky smile properly for the first time in years. The nurse finally left but not before telling Bucky he could simply ‘buzz’ for her at any time, in a sultry voice, a voice that made Bucky feel like spiders were crawling up his back. 

Y/N was giving the nurse a death glare until she had finally left the room. Letting out a small huff, Y/N placed the cup of coffee down on the table and started going through the various shopping bags she had, silently. 

“You don’t have to be jealous,” Bucky spoke, 

“I’m not jealous,” Y/N muttered as she continued to go through the bags. 

“Yes you are, you’ve got the same look on your face as you did when you saw Cindy Schatt’s kissing John Rider,” Bucky chuckled at the memory of that pool party at his house decades ago. 

Y/N just remained silent, trying to not make eye contact with him. Bucky knew that she only did that when she knew he was right but didn’t want to argue. To be completely honest, Bucky didn’t want to argue either. He felt that they had wasted too much time arguing and swallowing their feelings, far too much time. 

“I love you,” Bucky stated, his voice calm, clear and confident. 

Y/N’s hands suddenly stopped moving. All the cogs in her brain stopped working as she tried to comprehend what Bucky had just said… he said he loved her. Slowly, she glanced up and allowed her gaze to meet him. 

“Y/N, I love you so please don’t waste your time being jealous over some nurse,” Bucky repeated, making it clear to Y/N that he had no hidden agenda. 

“How should I spend my time then?” Y/N murmured. 

“Tell me you love me back,” Bucky breathed

“I’ve always loved you, that’s the problem,” Y/N sighed, why did it always seem to end in a fight with him. 

Bucky felt like the oxygen in the air was suffocating him. God, with every other girl in his life it had always been so easy bit with Y/N he never seemed to be able to find the right words to say. What annoyed Bucky the most was how simple things could be, she loved him and he loved her. This was supposed to be where they would finally get their happy ending, the boy finally confesses his love for the girl and they crash into each other and kiss while the credits roll. 

Y/N looked up at Bucky trying to gauge his reaction. Surely her confession couldn’t have surprised him so much. Was Bucky that clueless? All those nights she came rushing to his side when he was being a reckless idiot? Did he just assume she would do that for anyone? Bucky, however, looked completely at a loss. That was when Y/N said fuck it. 

She walked over to Bucky and kissed him. Y/N cupped his cheeks and kissed him like it was the last time she would ever see him… she hadn’t quite made up her mind yet if it was going to be. Bucky kissed her back so desperately, convincing himself that her kiss was more vital to him than breathing. When Y/N finally pulled away slightly for air, Bucky couldn’t help but reach up for the taste of her lips again. 

But then he noticed Y/N pull away slightly further, her hands still cupped his cheeks as if she never wanted to let go. But at the same time, she didn’t want to give all of herself to him, not anymore. 

“Doll,” Bucky whispered. 

“I just- I just can’t let it be like last time, James,” Y/N whispered back. 

“Never, I will never be like that again, it’s already cost me far too much and I’m sure as hell not losing you again,” Bucky’s eyes were just as glassy as her’s, tears threatening to spill at any moment. 

Y/N wanted to tell him how he never truly lost her but Bucky didn’t give her the chance. He kissed her, somehow even more feverishly than last time. They parted panting and forehead resting against one another. It wasn’t the kindest of reunions but it was certainly the sweetest.

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 5/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @turtlepated @infptarius @mel-time @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @sweetcat-666 @strange-n-unbluusual @monsterlovinghours @rainingpaint @genderless-cryptid @heresathreebee

SFW. A simple solution is suggested. Family is mentioned and summarily dismissed. Name calling.

She’d stuffed him haphazardly into her jacket pocket, but Beej didn’t complain. If Pate had slipped her mirror into her purse, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear what she told the cops.

Listening to her talk about Lillian being her mentor (not a lie) and calling her so late because she had a bad dream that she hoped the older woman could help her with (partial lie that would be backed up by phone records), then coming over at Lillian’s request (total lie, but couldn’t be proved otherwise) to talk about things, then scaling the fire escape because the door was supposed to be unlocked and wasn’t, Beetlejuice was inordinately proud of the easy way Pate wove fact and fiction together. He was a good bad influence.

He worried a little about a question asking why she didn’t try to call Lillian again once she arrived, but it never came. The officers took her statement with little request for more. She even volunteered to show them her dream journal, allowing them to skim through it, adding weight to her words of continued nightmares.

Pate sat in the driver’s seat of her car, the door open, watching the ambulance pull away from the curb, lights flashing but no siren. She’d already given her statement to the responding police officer and was informed that she could leave. The EMS said it was probably a heart attack, but something about that explanation simply didn’t sit right with her.

Either way, there was nothing more to be done but go back home.

She’d driven home after it was all said and done and now she looked small in the blanket she’d pulled around herself on the couch. Beetlejuice wished he could be beside her, snuggled into her warmth, but he was still stuck in this goddamn mirror.

Dawn found her sitting on her living room floor, the mirror propped up on her coffee table so she and Beetlejuice could see each other, sharing a forlorn look.

They had run out of options, and Pate had no idea what sort of trick or spell or whatever Lillian had used in order to try and undo it herself. An idea had come to her that she had kept to herself, feeling certain of what Beetlejuice’s response would be. But now, with their one other avenue no longer available to them, perhaps he would surprise her.

“I was thinking, Bug,” she began tentatively. “You might not like it, but we do know someone else who might be able to get you out.”

She briefly averted her eyes and sucked in a breath, sighing out the words on the exhale.

“Your brother.”

When she sighed and ran her hands over her face, he knew her well enough to recognize the set of her jaw. She’d put some serious thought into something and was ready to share it with him. Like when she told him no to converting the bathtub to a pond for piranha or yes, she was okay with him occasionally ‘borrowing’ her underwear.

What came out of her mouth was a bomb that he was completely unprepared for.

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t have to say his name. Bile instantly rose in his throat and he imagined his dull hair shot through with red as she mentioned asking his brother for assistance.

“No! No! Absolutely not!” he shouted impotently in the soundproofing he was trapped in.

In case she couldn’t read his lips or his agitation, he tried to fog the glass so he could write it out. No dice. There was no difference in temperature between him and the glass, apparently, so no condensation. In frustrated anger, Beetlejuice spit directly on the glass and used a fingertip to make a large “NO!”. It was backwards for her, so he wrote it again with the letters facing Pate correctly, in case she couldn’t figure it out.

Growing more agitated because he truly could do nothing to stop her from going ahead with her plan, Beetlejuice ground his teeth and pulled his hair. No Rigel! No Bellatrix! No Saiph! Oh sweet god, nobody from his family! He’d rather be trapped here than owe any of them anything. He couldn’t do anything to protect Pate from in here, and there was no way Rigel or any of the others would hold true to a word of helping them out.

A thin keening whine escaped him. He didn’t know what to do to make her understand.

Beetlejuice responded precisely the way she expected he would: with abject rejection of the whole idea. Pate threw up her hands in surrender as he drew an outright denial in his own spit inside the mirror.

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought you’d say,” she admitted, leaning forward with a sigh and resting her chin on the edge of the table. “But I don’t know what else to do to get you outta there.”

Pate watched the flaming red of his hair gradually simmer down as his temper cooled, wracking her brains to figure out some alternative to demonic assistance that he was so stridently against.

She had none of Lillian’s tools, much less her expertise and experience, no idea how to go about reversing what had been done. And something about Lillian’s sudden death still nagged at the back of her mind, and she caught herself speculating that it couldn’t have been natural. But then that was ridiculous, of course it was natural. People died of heart failure all the time.

Ugh, focus! She told herself impatiently. How do I get my demon boyfriend out of this mirror? Come on, think!

With no Lillian there to explain or offer guidance, no knowledgeable supernatural assistance and Beetlejuice unable to offer any insight that didn’t involve charades, Pate sat in the silence and thought.

And then it came to her, like a bolt from the blue.

She straightened, not quite looking at Beetlejuice in the mirror, still formulating in her head to see if the logic of it worked out. As far as she could tell, it seemed like a solid strategy. Beetlejuice had first entered her life and her world when she said his name three times. Now that he was no longer in her world technically, maybe saying his name three times would bring him back to it.

“Bug, I think I have another idea,” she said, relaying the thought to him to see what he made of it.

It was comforting that she let her train of thought derail at his insistence. Beej gave a sigh of relief. He pressed his hand against his side of the glass, found it slick with spit, and wiped his palm on his trousers before putting it there again, wishing he could touch her.

Pate’s open hand was large compared to his, but it being somewhat against him made him as happy as he could be, stuck here. She was quiet in thought again, looking increasingly tired.

She jumped as if startled, her eyes wide. Beetlejuice couldn’t hear anything that may have done it, so he cocked his head in pantomime confusion.

Breathlessly, Pate told him her next idea, and waited expectantly for his thoughts on it.

"Baby . . ." he began. It was difficult to break the habit of talking to her.

The concept was intriguing. He was bound to his name, and her suggestion just might be enough, have enough power, to yank him to her side despite whatever spell Lillian had cast. A hastily concocted binding couldn’t be as tight as what tethered him to his name.

Beej shrugged with a smile, feeling suspiciously like he’d been trapped here like a puppet or a clown.

"Yes. Try it baby," he said, just to help break that bug under glass--haha, wasn't he the comedian!--feeling. He raised his voice, even though that didn't help. "I can't wait to kiss you!"

With Beetlejuice’s affirmation of the plan, Pate got to her feet and stood in the middle of the living room with the mirror held out at arm’s length. In her head, she hoped it would give him plenty of room to appear. He looked eagerly out at her from the glass, both hands pressed against the inside of the mirror. Flashing him a grin, Pate steadied herself and took a breath.

“Bheteljuz . . . Bheteljuz . . . Bheteljuz!”

Pate stood alone in her living room, holding the mirror that was now empty but for her own reflection. A thin crack had split the glass all the way across, but she wasn’t troubled by that. What was troubling was the fact that Beetlejuice had failed to reappear.

She gave him another minute, in case it took longer because he’d been stuck in the mirror, but as the minutes wore on she began to fret that something had gone wrong.

Had she performed the summoning incorrectly? She’d been very careful to pronounce his name just the way she was supposed to, she’d said it three times for sure, and he certainly wasn’t in the mirror anymore. What could have happened?

After thinking for a bit she remembered the other caveat of his name: three times to summon, three times again to banish. What if she’d banished him by accident?

Cursing to herself, Pate set down the broken mirror and quickly recited his name three more times, preparing her apology for sending him away, more than ready to feel his arms around her after this strange and upsetting day. Seconds ticked by, but still the grinning ghost did not reappear. Was he angry with her for the banishment?

Her pulse picking up at the growing sense of foreboding balling tightly in her gut, Pate took a shaky breath and said his name again. But still to no avail.

Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she knew it. Beetlejuice wouldn’t stay away unless something was stopping him from coming to her. Increasingly desperate, Pate called his name again, louder this time, as if maybe he just couldn’t hear her.

“Please come back,” she begged the empty air, feeling tears threaten in her burning eyes.

⁂

He gave himself a shake. Ran a hand through his hair. Straightened his tie--then wickedly thought that maybe he should appear back at her side completely nude except for the tie; he never minded a little playful tie-pulling as a precursor to some adult fun, especially from her. Pate was tired, of course, she’d had a long night. That didn’t mean he couldn’t just take care of her.

Kind of a reward for breaking him out, he reasoned. She could just lay back and let him indulge her with his mouth, then when she was sweaty and mostly spent he’d crawl up her body and slip his cock deep inside her--

The typical tingle in his fingertips that accompanied someone saying his name was sharper. It was more like pins being shoved under his nails. The mirror must have amplified the sensation.

The second repeated made the pain worse, shooting it up his arms and legs towards his torso. Beetlejuice gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He could handle this, just one more and he’d be out!

The third recitation doubled him over. No matter! He was free, he was out no more endless white mirror world to be stuck in. No wonder vampires hated them so much. Mirrors sucked.

He’d have expected Pate to say something or grab his hand. She was oddly silent.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Beetlejuice opened his eyes. He didn’t think it was the fog of pain that made nothing seem familiar. This wasn’t Pate’s apartment. This was somewhere else. This was surrounded by people who looked too excited to see him, outside a circle drawn on the floor where he stood.

He was immeasurably glad he hadn’t stripped down to his tie.

tbc . . .

[liddolwhynot2000]

Hey! So, I was wondering if I could get a levi x reader where the reader runs the tea shop levi goes to to get his tea and they slowly become friends before realizing they’ve fallen in love with eachother?

Aiii one of my first fic supporters ⭐ I'm so sorry for answering this so late. But I got you.

Here we goo. I hope it lives up to your expectations! @dove-music

____________________________________

Apricity

____________________________________

Summary:

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

___________________________________

Pairings: Levi/Reader

____________________________________

Genre: fluff, romance, Levi-does-not-know-romance, kinda funny

____________________________________

If Levi had to pick any place in the world that gave made him feel something akin to contentment, it would be the little tea shop that was a 10 minute walk from the Survey Corps.

It wasn't some big, fancy cafe, overcrowded with civilians and soldiers, like other establishments were. A small, cosy little shop in the corner of the street. The shop made good business, he could tell, with its modest furnishing and quality to tea.

He had stumbled upon it in a dire time of need- right after losing his beloved friends to titans. He had accepted that he would stay in the survey corps but he hadn't been willing to make friends at the time. He didn't want to get drunk with his fellow soldiers, or visit brothels. He had just wanted some quiet.

Levi had been walking along the street by himself, in the dark, when he had stumbled upon that cafe. It had been on a whim that he had decided to go inside and actually order something.

He would try to convince himself that it was a one time thing, that he was simply trying some of the luxuries the surface had to offer. But one time turned into two, two turned into ten and so on.

He was rewarding himself with good tea, Levi told himself, that was why he kept coming back. He fought titans for humanity, the least he could do was use his paycheck to buy himself a nice beverage every once in a while. It was treat to himself.

The sweet owner of the cafe had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Yeah sure Levi nobody believes you

Shut up four eyes or else-

____________________________________

'Sir, here you go.'

'.. I didn't order this.'

Levi looked at the plate set infront of him with indifference, although a part of him wondered if it would taste as good as it looked. It was a chocolate cake slice, with some sort of white cream on it.

'It's on the house sir.'

He looked at you, feeling bewildered at the sight of your smiling face. Was this sort of shit normal in the surface? Just giving each other food? There had to be some sort of catch right?

'.. What do you want?'

You blinked at him in confusion.

'Er- nothing sir. We sometimes give free meals to customers. You're the lucky customer this week.'

Levi felt compelled to ask one more time.

'So I owe you nothing for this?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'Right... Thanks.'

There was no more clarification he could ask for, not when you had used that firm tone. You excused yourself and walked away, leaving Levi to his treat.

Huh. The people here weren't so bad after all.

Maybe he would come back to try some more dishes later.

It's not to see you again hell no stop it Hange- it's NOT-

____________________________________

He later finds out that you're the owner of the cafe. You could just hire help and let others manage the cafe, but you prefer handling it yourself. Levi can't help liking that- so many people would just sit on their asses, but you're actually working hard.

He doesn't get around to going to the cafe again until a month later. It's after a grueling expedition and he's beyond irritated with everyone. For some reason, they've started calling him 'humanity's strongest' and frankly, Levi finds it to be a dumb title.

Becuase even with all his strength, he hadn't been able to save everyone.

Wanting to get away from overeager comrades and a sugar high Hange (somebody give moblit a raise poor boi), Levi decides to head to the cafe.

Yet again, you're the one who welcomes him. He silently thanks you when you seat him in the corner of the shop, an area where hardly anyone would see him and he wouldn't have to see anyone else. You had perhaps understood from his uniform and exhausted face that he wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, so you had hand him the menu and quietly tell him you'll be back in five minutes.

Once you get him his chosen tea, you also quietly leave a plate of another desert with it. This time, Levi doesn't bother asking questions. He nods at you gratefully before allowing himself to indulge in the delicacy infront of him.

He can't help but want to ask your name.

Aww Levi you drew a heart on that paper with her name on it-

No what the fuck YOU drew that four eyes-

___________________________________

He frequents the cafe at least twice a month for the next five years. It's become a tradition of sorts, going there after a tiresome mission, enjoying a meal made by you. You don't always let him have food for free of course, but it's often at a discounted rate. And as someone who has never enjoyed any privelege whatsoever in his entire life, he guards the special consideration you show him close to his heart.

The two of you don't interact much at the start, but Levi notices you. The way you give your workers decent time off, how you don't hesitate in offering monetary help or letting someone take the day off, even if it means you're overworked. He hasn't talked to you much, but he has a good opinion of you. He finds you fascinating, the first speck of kindness he's seen in his life, since Isabel and her desire to free a bird. Levi doesn't bother approaching you directly, because he doesn't even know what to say.

The two of you have a full interaction six months into his routine, the day Levi accidentally stays till its closing time. It had been good luck on your part--that when the drunk garrison soldiers had stumbled into your cafe will less then innocent intentions, Levi had been there to deal with them. As far as the garrisons were concerned, it had been the worst night of their lives. No amount of alcohol would ever be enough to make them forget what had happened.

Look at you, so protective of your woman even then-Levi where did you get that knife from--wait no - Erwin HELP-

He strikes a tentative friendship with you after that. You had been beyond thankful for his intervention, knowing you might not have made it out with your life if he hadn't been there. You made him cookies the next day, coming all the way to headquarters to give them to him.

Much to his despair, you meet his self proclaimed friend--Hange, and the two of you become friends too. He tries not to mind it, however, the day Hange flashes a cookie with what is clearly his frowning face drawn on it, he has to be held back by five soldiers from throwing Hange out the window. He marches to cafe, intending on letting out his ire at your insolence. But somehow, he doesn't tell you off like he had planned. Instead he finds himself asking you about your baking and art skills-even he would admit that the drawing of him had been spot on.

He does ban from making them again. You honoured it, until the two of you became good friends. Suddenly, every holiday involves at least one tray of grumpy Levi cookies. Even Erwin had enjoyed them, much to his exasperation. It had lead to his vow of never trying one.

They tasted amazing, I really think you should have tried them- OUCH that hurt shorty-

It doesn't take long till he finds himself purposefully visiting at closing time, knowing you'll just make yourself make a meal too, sit nearby and read a book. You engage him in conversation at times, telling him about the books you read. The two of you bond over food and fictional stories. He let's his walls down for you, little by little. You end up becoming the first person he let's in, his first friend, since the death of Isabel and Farlan.

Levi likes to think they would have liked you.

It's nice, spending time with you. You don't look at him like he's some God with all the solutions, like his comrades do. You aren't in some high risk career where he'd have to worry about you dying. You're stable and peaceful, exactly where you are.

Everytime he sets out for an expedition, he mentally prepares himself for not making it back without at least half his cormades. When it comes to you, his friend, he has no worries. You're safely tucked away in your cafe, out of reach from the titans grasp.

'friend' sure Levi, you write love letters for your friends.

Four eyes where the fuck did you get those from, give them back-

___________________________________

It's a peaceful day, as evidenced by the birds chirping and general pleasant atmosphere. One could say the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of sunshine shining in the streets, children enjoying themselves, chasing each other.

Even Levi is in a good mood. Of course, his good mood is amplified by his current location. His favorite cafe.

He's sitting inside, but the windows are open, letting in fresh air. He has a nice cup of tea on the table, with a plate full of sandwiches. You were seated in front of him, drinking some tea so sweet he could smell it.

You're telling him about a book, how you've analysed its villainous characters. He enjoys listening to you, often finding your ability to guage complex characters with relative ease to be startling. It makes him trust you more, knowing that no matter how fucked up something occurs, you wouldn't take it at face value.

You wouldn't judge him like that.

The two of you are interrupted as the bell chimes and someone enters the cafe. It's a young man, maybe in his 20s. He's dressed well, a white shirt with a brown vest on top. You put down the book down and smile as you go to greet him.

Suddenly, Levi doesn't feel as peaceful as before. He keep his eyes to his tea but his ears are perked up as he listens to you chatter with the man.

'Hello. Its been a while eh?'

'It has. I've been in Wall Sina getting some work done. Finally finished it, those damn nobles ask us for way too much-'

The man places an order for a bag of biscuits, ones you had already made. You give him a discount, which Levi smugly notes isn't even half of what he gets, and he tells you he has to leave soon. Levi's relieved really, he doesn't know what he's feeling, but he knows he doesn't like him.

'.. Maybe next time, I could take you out on a date...'

Even though you gently reject the man, who takes it well, Levi can't stop frowning. Once you take your place in infront of him again and continue your explaination, he turns his attention back to you and tries to brush off that feeling in his gut.

But it doesn't work.

____________________________________

When Levi had been taken in under Kenny's (questionable) care, he had learned a lot of things from the man. How to hold a knife, how to break bones, make deals, the sex talk that Levi would like to never remember etc. Kenny had taught him plenty of life skills.

However, his methods had been crazy to say the least. More often then not, Levi found himself on the recieving end of sparring sessions where he was sent flying into trash cans and expected to get up and attack again. Kenny had been ruthless, but it had been for his own good. He wouldn't have survived that hell hole otherwise.

Levi recalled a specific moment in his early days of being with Kenny all too clearly. He hadn't fully understood why Kenny was making him train like this, and frankly, he had been exhausted being treated like a punching bag. In his anger, he had yelled at Kenny, half crying, about how his mother would never let him get hurt like this and how much he missed her.

Kenny had stared at him blankly for a minute once he had finished, and with the speed of lightning, the man had punched him in the stomach.

It had been extremely painful, taking his breath away. Kenny had then proceeded to beat him senseless--telling him what would happen if he wasn't strong enough with each blow.

He would always remember that pain for the rest of his life. Nothing had ever come close to it, or at least that's what he had thought.

But right now, sitting at his desk late at night, Levi feels like Kenny had punched him in the gut again. He was, yet again, experiencing a feeling he would never forget. It wasn't pain, but it's intensity was just the same.

Love.

..sittin in a tree, K I S S I N- AHHH

Section Commander, are you okay!? How did you fall down the stairs??

___________________________________

Levi and the rest of the soldiers had the night off, and while usually he was more inclined to simply stay away from their parties, he allowed his squad to drag him. It had, as expected, turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had been too drunk. Especially his squad.

When Olou began singing, Levi listened with mild amusement. His voice actually hadn't been too bad.

When Gunther and Eld began drunkenly trying to dance together to his singing, he might have actually smiled while drinking his beer.

When a very drunk Moblit collapsed next to him, muttering about that crazy four eyes, Levi decided to put his foot down and end the party. With Petra's help, he had carried Moblit to his room. The poor man had muttered the entire way there, mostly about Hange and Titans and needing therapy.

The punch in the gut, figuratively, had taken place on his way back to his room. Courtesy of Petra.

He hadn't noticed it, which had been stupid of him in hindsight. His ginger haired comrade had been harbouring feelings for him- feelings he knew he didn't return in the slightest. He had turned her down as gently as possible, not expecting her to loop her arms around his neck and beg him for one night together.

'... Please captain, just one night. If you still feel the same in the morning, I'll never bring this up again.'

Maybe in another universe, he would have said yes. After all, despite the age gap between them, Petra was rather beautiful. And any man would want to enjoy a night with her.

Alas, the moment she had looped her arms around him, his breath had suddenly left him, as though Kenny had punched him in the gut again.

He wasn't seeing his ginger haired cormade leaning into him, confessing her love to him. He was seeing you, your hair in that messy bun, that sweet smile, saying all those words. Practically begging him to make you his.

The moment Petra repeated her statement again, however, the vision fell apart and he pushed her away. After a firm rejection and some tears, he wandered back to his office, feeling dazed.

Sitting down in his chair, he had stared mindlessly, thinking about you.

You and your sweet words. Your obsession with reading. Those special discounts for him. That gentle smile. Even those absurd grumpy Levi cookies you baked.

Levi was a Capricorn--and capricorns were practical people. Rational. And in the interest of being practical, Levi decided to admit his feelings to himself. It would only drive him crazy if he didn't.

He was in love with you.

___________________________________

In his thirty something years of living, Levi had never been in an relationship. He had been too busy navigating the dark realms of the underground, trying to find enough food to eat. He hadn't cared for sex either, too traumatized by Kenny and his (shudder) talk. By the time he had gotten older and more stable, he had been so disgusted by the flithiness of the act, that he didn't even bother seeking out partners.

Which was why, here was, in love with a woman who probably deserved better then him, unable to do figure out what to do. Should he tell you? Or just keep it to himself? He wasn't sure if you felt the same, but the part of him that was in love with you knew he'd die happy if he held even the smallest part of your heart.

He was at a loss really. Maybe he could find a book about this crap.

Kenny's voice rung in his head for a few seconds, before Levi shut it off. He would rather die single then get a girl using Kenny's advice. He could do better then this. Maybe Erwin would have a book, there had to be somewhere the blonde bastard learned his charm from.

... You gotta be upfront kid. If you want her to be yours..

Levi wouldn't listen to Kenny. No. There was no way...

.. Don't beat around the bush brat, just tell her...

...he would do as Kenny had advised him to.

... Kill her if she doesn't like you back okay..

Okay that wasn't happening. Even if some of it sounded like it made sense, he still wouldn't do it like Kenny would.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

__________________________________

The next day, Levi silently wondered if his mentor was still alive. If he was, Levi resolved to stab him in a heartbeat. Because he just knew, that if Kenny could see him now, he would laugh his ass off.

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

And it was all because he followed Kenny's advice.

Goddamit.

___________________________________

A/N: This ended up being longer then planned whew. My fingers were numb at some points, bc I wrote this in 3 straight hours. I hope y'all liked this! Am I the only who thinks grumpy Levi cookies would be amazing? I had to give Kenny a role in this, it was too tempting not to. Overall, I liked this one alot. I actually have a plan in mind involving this Levi and reader, which I'll hopefully write soon. Till then, take care everyone!

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )

We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?

Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.

I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you). 

Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.

God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.

Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.

I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart. 

Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.

Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.

Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?

Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too). 

Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.

Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.

The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.

And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.

With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life. 

Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”

Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death. 

Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.

In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.

More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.

Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.

In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.

Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.

Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he. 

It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.

As for the classism.

While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.

Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.

He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.

Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, By Peter B. Parker

Chapter 1: Fix-it

So @preciouspeterbparker and I have been working on this fic and we are SO excited to finally share this with everyone!! It started as a WandaVision-fueled concept and turned into a whole ass fic. We’re absolutely obsessed and we hope you guys love it as much as we’re loving writing it!! I hope everyone enjoys💕

Summary: After Peter’s identity has been compromised, he runs to the only place he can think of, as memory-filled it may be. He may be alone, but the loneliness was something he’d worked on becoming accustomed to. And it was something he could fix, given the right technology.

Lucky him, that tech fit right in the palm of his hand.

Warnings: Peter is 17, set directly after FFH, canon death mention, canon divergence, inappropriate use of Stark tech

Ao3 link

————

Peter’s eyes were wide as he crouched on top of the lamp post and stared at the screen, stunned. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now.

It had to have been an illusion. It wasn’t real. Right?

His brain was racing, thoughts moving too quickly to keep up with what was going on.

His name was said. His real name. The name ‘Peter Parker’ didn’t just belong to a nobody anymore.

It belonged to Spider-Man.

Which meant it belonged to the public. The public who blindly believed that he was a murderer.

His body moved before he could think about what he was doing, swinging over the crowds that stared at him in shock. He ignored the sound of MJ calling his name from below, desperate to get away. And it would be better for her if she wasn’t associated with him. She’d be safe if people didn’t know.

People yelled, their voices coupled with the sounds of the city pushing him towards overstimulation. They were angry, throwing things in an attempt to knock him down. But nothing got high enough. He stayed well above everyone, breathing heavily. He felt like he was going to pass out.

His eyes flitted around, glancing at all the buildings around him, all the possible routes, without really focusing on any of them. Where was he going? He couldn’t go home; there was no way he could face May. It was guaranteed that she’d seen the clip already and he didn’t want her to be super worried about him. He couldn’t do that to her. Not when things had finally started looking up for her, not when she finally seemed truly happy again.

Ned’s house wasn’t an option either. His best friend’s parents had a shaky opinion of Spider-Man last time he’d heard and he didn’t want his entire friendship to fall apart there.

He definitely couldn’t involve Michelle in this. They had pretty much moved on from their ill-fated attempt at romance that ended when she couldn’t deal with the nightmares he still had, but he wasn’t over it enough for that to be a viable option.

His brain screamed one name but his heart ached over the mere thought. He could only imagine one way for this to be okay, for him to ever feel truly okay again. It wasn’t even a possibility anymore and he knew it. But that didn’t make the pain any less excruciating.

No matter how much he wanted it to happen, Tony couldn’t save him from this.

The reality tugged at his heart and stole the breath from his lungs. He had to pause on top of a building, perched on the ledge so he could easily take off again if he needed to.

It had been almost nine months since the man had died. Since he’d saved everyone else and sacrificed himself. But it still hurt Peter like the wound was fresh.

He knew that the move had to be made. Someone had to do it.

But god, he wished he had been the one to take the fall. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret not getting the gauntlet from Mr. Stark before he snapped.

Maybe his motives were purely selfish. Because any time he considered the idea, it wasn’t for the good of everyone else.

He just didn’t like living in a world without Tony Stark.

Peter heard someone opening the door that led to the rooftop and he bolted again, not needing to be caught. But he still needed to figure out his destination.

Then it clicked. A real possibility. Even though he’d have to do more than swing to get there.

The compound upstate.

It was almost completely in ruins when he’d last seen it, destroyed by Thanos and his army. And it wasn’t likely it was too much better since the person funding it….

Well, he couldn’t be in charge of the upkeep anymore. Peter didn’t even like thinking about that part of it.

But he’d be able to hide there for a while, at least. Completely unbothered. There weren’t too many people that knew about the exact location or how to get there. So he’d be safe while everything cooled down.

He could use some time alone anyways.

In order to get there, he’d need to drive. But he didn’t exactly have access to a car. And it was highly unlikely he’d be able to get an Uber while everyone thought he was a murderer.

There was one person he knew he could trust. Although Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to pull him into everything.

But he really did need a ride. He had to get out of the city. There was no other option.

“Karen? Can you call Happy for me?”

“Of course, Peter.”

There was a dialing noise for a few seconds before the call picked up.

“Peter? Where are you?” Happy was as harsh as ever as soon as he picked up.

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I need a favor. Please, I need a ride to get out of town. I can’t deal with all of this. Please.” His voice cracked pitifully on the last word.

A moment of silence before a heavy sigh crackled through the speakers in his mask, the sharp sound making him wince. “May wants you to come home. She’s kind of freaking out here, she just saw the news.”

Peter chewed his lip, his eyes dropping to the crowds in the street below. They were all watching him, phones trained on his every move. The feeling of their eyes on him made his skin crawl. “I can’t. Tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t go home. Not right now. Not yet.”

Happy didn’t say anything for a minute, but Peter could hear May’s frantic plea in the background. He felt horrible. But he couldn’t go back. Nearly everyone in the whole city was against him. He couldn’t deal with that. And he didn’t want May to have to figure everything out for him.

Finally the other man spoke again. “I can’t help you. It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s the principle. I’m not helping you run away.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. It doesn’t matter the circumstance. You’re running away. And I’m not going to be a part of it. Just come home, Peter,” Happy told him, his voice gentler then the young man had ever heard it.

“Karen, end call.” In a brief moment of anger, Peter hung up. He knew Happy and May were right. But he just couldn’t go home. He was already sick of being leered at and the broadcast had just gone live. It would only get worse.

And he still didn’t have a ride.

A heavy sigh left him, the sound accurately conveying his sheer exhaustion.

The directions to the compound were something he knew well, he’d probably be able to instruct someone there in his sleep. That wasn’t the issue. It was just so far and without a ride it would take forever.

Maybe a run would do him good. A very, very long run.

***

He’d made an extremely brief stop before leaving the city, buying a set of civilian clothes (even though that didn’t matter, where he was going), a small backpack to hold everything, and enough food for approximately two weeks. It wasn’t the most nutritious stuff, but it was something he could survive on until he felt safe enough to go back home.

After that, it took a few hours for him to finally reach the compound site, but at least he hadn’t been spotted. Most of his escape had been through woods, so despite the fact that he was now an extremely recognizable face, no one saw him. Or tried to come after him, at least.

The sun had set, only the barest bit of orange still hanging above the horizon as he walked up to the damaged building. At least it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d remembered.

It was completely destroyed in some places, while others were just crumbling. It seemed like someone had tried to fix bits and pieces, but eventually just gave up. No longer was it the beautiful campus that Tony created. But it would do for what he needed.

Peter headed to one of the more intact areas, breathing heavily as he finally was able to relax. No more running to try and get to his destination as fast as possible. He was there and he could finally calm down.

No one else was within miles of the place. He was safe.

But it was so lonely. That was par for the course, though, he supposed. He’d been feeling lonely for a while now, despite the best attempts of those around him.

He decided to settle down in one of the old training rooms. It was probably one of only spaces still mostly together. The roof hadn’t been displaced at all, the walls only had the slightest bit of charring. The space was huge, but a lot of it was taken up by pieces of furniture and equipment. At least it didn’t feel extremely empty.

He sat on the ground, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head against the wall. It was almost nice to be able to just sit and not be worried about being caught.

Almost.

The silence screamed at him, amplifying his anxious thoughts and nearly suffocating him.

Having someone to talk to would have been nice. But who was he supposed to talk to? He still felt bad about hanging up on Happy, so he wasn’t a choice and neither was May. Ned would probably make things worse, despite just wanting to help, so he couldn’t do that either. Thinking about MJ just made him feel guilty, so she was off limits too.

No, if he was honest with himself, there was only one person he really wanted to talk to.

The thought took him by surprise all over again, grief clenching around his heart like a vice grip.

Tony would know what to do. He’d be able to easily get Peter out of the insane situation, fixing everything all up again and making it all right. He’d gotten himself out of plenty of messes, why would this be different?

For just a moment, Peter smiled to himself as he imagined how Mr. Stark would have handled everything. None of it would have felt so grave. There would have been a joke or two made before he worked his magic and made Peter safe again. It would have been over and forgotten about before dinner.

Then reality sunk in again, as it always did.

Tony wasn’t there to help. He couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be ever again.

Peter didn’t like thinking about the fact that he was gone, but if he didn’t tell himself that it was true, that it had really happened, then he’d get hope again and fall apart. He didn’t have the luxury of falling apart when everything was already such a mess.

As a distraction, he began sorting through the backpack he’d gotten, taking out every item and looking it over. Then he got to the front pocket and remembered the last thing he had tucked inside.

Since getting them back, Peter didn’t go anywhere without the EDITH glasses. He’d made the mistake of giving them to someone else before, a mistake he was clearly going to keep paying for. He couldn’t let anyone else get a hold of them again.

He slowly pulled them out, holding onto them for a moment and looking at them. His last gift from Tony. An extremely powerful gift that probably should have been given to someone else. But they weren’t. They were his, for better or worse.

Their full capabilities hadn’t really been something he’d thought about. He didn’t know much of anything about them, really. He knew they had an AI that had absolutely no chill and could control drones, but that was about it.

Peter hadn’t considered what the drones could actually do. The projections that Beck created had been intense and so real, it was hard to believe that he held the power to such a thing in his hands.

If entire beings and monsters could be created, what else could they do?

A sudden thought appeared, prodding at the grieving part of his brain. What were the limits of the projections? How much could they create?

How real could the illusions get?

Letting himself fantasize about possibilities was dangerous and he knew it. But just messing around with the technology wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was just going to familiarize himself with it some more. See what it was capable of.

For the night, however, he needed to sleep. It had been an exhausting day and his eyelids were heavy. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place ever, but it would do for the first night.

He was asleep within minutes of laying down, dreams of bringing Tony back comforting him. Fantasy was dangerous, no matter how he tried to excuse it.

But maybe it didn’t have to stay just a fantasy.

***

Peter slowly slid the glasses on, breathing shakily. His stomach was churning anxiously. He was still reeling from yesterday’s events and what they meant for him.

But at least now he had an idea, something to focus on, to keep him from getting trapped in a downward spiral.

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH greeted, voice soothing as always.

“Hey, um-“ he raked a hand through his hair. What was he doing? He didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what to ask, or how to ask it without sounding crazy.

EDITH, as intuitive as they came, seemed to sense his pause. “What do you need help with today, Peter?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed down the lump in his throat. “So...you know how Be- how Mysterio used the drones?” It was probably awful phrasing given everything that had happened. But it was his only frame of reference for the tech’s use first-hand.“Can I do that? The...the pictures and all. Projections.”

“Yes, Peter. You have access to each of those systems. Would you like to call them here?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. That was something. Maybe… “I...yeah. Please.” He knew the vast majority of the drones had been destroyed in the battle on the bridge. But he was sure that, in true Tony Stark fashion, there were more out there somewhere. Mr. Stark was nothing if not prepared.

Peter knew that the drones could create projections, illusions, elaborate scenes that were impossible to tell from reality. But he didn’t just want to see. He wanted to feel, too.

“EDITH? Can you run me through the programming you run on? Basics, advanced, everything in between.” He certainly had the time to go over it all.

“Of course, Peter.”

He had all the time in the world to figure things out, as far as he was concerned. And once he understood how the tech worked, he could bring his questionable plan to life. Piece of cake.

***

As requested, EDITH filled him in on everything. Her own coding and controls, as well as the tech she was based on, BARF (the name never failed to force a hint of a smile to his lips). He had a pretty good understanding of how it worked, especially after watching a video of the presentation Tony gave at MIT.

BARF allowed the wearer of the glasses to access their hippocampus and project their memories. Though Tony always maintained that the tech was intended to be therapeutic and assist in healing from past traumatic events, Beck had obviously allowed for the projection of whatever the wearer desired.

In this case, if it worked correctly, whatever Peter desired.

Since he wanted to be able to actually feel the illusion, he’d have to alter the programming to interact with other parts of his brain. Namely the parietal lobe, which was responsible for tactile sensory information.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

***

Peter slipped the glasses on again. “Hi, EDITH,” he started, biting his lip. Was he really going to do this?

“Hello, Peter. What can I help you with?”

“Run program: STARKER.” He’d slipped some of his own programming into her code in order to do what he wanted. No turning back now. He closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that it worked.

It had to work.

He thought of the only place he wanted to be right now. The place where he’d always felt at home.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched as pixels began to overtake the room, going from the ground up as everything fell into place around him. In a passing thought, he noted that it was similar to watching the smooth ooze of the nanobots that made up his Iron Spider suit. Then suddenly he wasn’t in a bare, badly destroyed training room. He was in Tony’s penthouse at the tower.

And he wasn’t the only one. The sight of his own illusion startled him, left him feeling disoriented. Illusion-Peter blinked at him blankly since he wasn’t thinking of anything in particular for him to do. It was...unsettling, looking at himself. Could he-

Closing his eyes again, Peter swallowed. He thought of his illusion, seeing things from his point of view-

When he opened his eyes again, he could no longer see himself. Much better. Now he was still able to see, feel, and interact with everything in the illusion without having to watch it play out like a movie, the way Tony had in that video. It was just like real life.

He looked at his surroundings again.

The window-wall in front of him looked out over the city, and the sun was shining brightly. To his left was a bar, and the elevator was to the right, sandwiched between two staircases, one of which went up and the other down. Peter’s eyes were wide as he slowly turned around, trying to take it all in. The amount of detail was incredible. He hadn’t realized how much of this place he remembered. The little conversation pit was there, complete with the semi-circle couch and the fireplace he’d seen in a photo spread years earlier. Everything screamed Tony, from the decor to the coffee and whiskey scented air.

But despite the astonishing realism, it still felt so empty. The space felt wrong. Incomplete.

There was definitely something missing. Or someone.

Peter chewed his lip, closing his eyes as he focused. Nervous energy was churning in his stomach. “Come on, EDITH,” he mumbled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was it, the make it or break it moment. “Do your thing.”

Everything was silent for a moment and Peter was worried that it hadn’t worked. His heart skipped a beat, thudding painfully in his chest. Maybe all the work he had put in meant nothing since it hadn’t originally been part of the program.

But slowly the pixels started again, building a figure up seemingly out of nowhere until it formed a full person.

The only person he wanted to see right now.

Tony blinked, a bit disoriented before he glanced over and saw Peter. He shot his signature cocky half-smile towards the young man. “Hey, kid. What did I miss?”

Peter let out a choked sound, a mix between a sob and a borderline-hysterical laugh. “Tony,” he rasped.

And suddenly everything felt okay again.

[orangedodge]

@dannybagpipesarecalling​ replied to your text post:

I didn't realize those were Destiny's diaries either. If you would be so kind, can you explain how Emma knows? Unfortunately I haven't read enough comics to know this backstory.

I am glad you asked about this, because it gives me an excuse to post about it while hopefully not sounding like a conspiracy blog. I've been slightly obsessed with this idea since Emma first turned up in House of X, so I'm rather excited that “maybe Destiny's Diaries still exist” isn't just my weird crack canon any longer.

Emma was, in short, the last person who can be established to have control over the whereabouts of the diaries. And as one of the top five telepaths in the world, who has expressly defended that secret from the likes of Exodus and Mr. Sinister, she is capable of preventing Professor X from just taking the information from her. So barring new retcons, if Moira has the diaries now, they had to have been obtained directly from Emma.

That's not enough to say that she turned them over to Moira specifically. She could have given them to Charles or Er—okay, no, she wouldn't give them to Charles. There could be a circumstance where she'd trust them to Erik though. But in that contingency, I think there's enough context to support Emma knowing why they'd want them and for who. To be clear though, I would be less confident about making that assertion if Emma hadn't just opened the “Dr. Moira MacTaggert Memorial Public Hospital” expressly to freak out Charles and Erik, and if HoxPox hadn't already linked them by showing Moira to be worried about what Emma was up to.

(This got kind of long so I thought it'd be helpful to say the important part up front before spiraling down the continuity rabbit hole)

The origins and resulting chain of custody for Destiny's Diaries are as follows: One January, decades ago, Destiny began recording visions of the future in a series of diaries. Filling one book per month, she continued writing for thirteen months. This process was described as auto-writing, and Destiny herself did not have a complete memory of what she had written, nor did she understand the meaning of much of what she wrote.

Nonetheless, the July diary contained a recording of the events leading up to the defeat of Apocalypse, and another diary contained information on the life of Hope Summers, so they've been very relevant to the events of the modern era. It's not explicit yet that Krakoa's founding is also in the diaries, but because we know Destiny had at least one separate vision of Krakoa, and because Moira is interested in reading them, it seems fairly likely that whatever Moira, Charles, and Erik have been doing behind the scenes is also in there.

In the decades since Destiny authored them, most of these diaries were lost, except for five that Mystique kept hold of, and a sixth that Irene hid away herself. After Mystique killed 'Moira,' she sent her five diaries to Professor X, hoping that the temptation of using them would consume his life and lead him toward a ruinous fate. Destiny meanwhile had entrusted the sixth diary to Shadowcat (who Destiny met in 1936, while she was time traveling and having an affair with Moira's grandfather don't worry about it), who eventually became so freaked out by something she read in it that she vanished on a mission, let her friends believe her dead for weeks, and had herself deleted from Cerebro, while leaving the diary to Rogue for safekeeping while she was away.

(That last chain of events isn't incredibly important, I just think it becomes kind of lol in light of current canon)

Rogue went on to take that diary and the research that had been done on it to Storm. Storm and Rogue then formed a splinter team of X-Men, to journey the world searching for the lost diaries, believing Professor X could not be trusted. Along the way a seventh book turned up with a treasure hunter named Vargas (don't worry about him), and an eighth was found by Gateway and given to Rogue in a dream. Eventually Storm tried to get Phoenix to collect Professor X's diaries for her, but they discovered that they had already been stolen (Shadowcat did it).

The rest of the diary hunt isn't really important, just that Kitty eventually ended up retrieving the full set, before she rejoined the X-Men, which only happened after Xavier had left Scott and Emma to run the school. This timeline is important for establishing that Xavier has never possessed the full set of diaries himself, and was not involved in collecting the lost books at any point, nor was he present at the time the diaries were brought to the school and fell under Emma's protection. This rules out the possibility that the set of diaries we've previously seen were somehow forged by Xavier.

Xavier would not return to the school until after losing his mutant powers, whereupon he departed for space on an adventure to another galaxy. He was unavailable, therefore, to have undertaken any telepathic shenanigans, so what happens next actually happened, and is not a psychic illusion. While Xavier was gone, Mr. Sinister recruited Exodus and Mystique, and began a campaign of hunting down precognitive psychics, time travelers, and any other sources of information on the future. Scott, Emma, and Kitty meanwhile predicted that they were going to be next, and came up with a bananas plan to keep the books safe.

X-Men volume 2 no. 203 by Mike Carey (Writer), Humberto Ramos (Penciler), Carlos Cuevas (Inker), Studio F’s Edgar Delgado (Colorist), Virtual Calligraphy’s Cory Petit (Letterer), Will Panzo (Assistant Editor), Nick Lowe (Editor), Joe Quesada (Editor in Chief), Dan Buckley (Publisher)

First they hid the diaries somewhere in parts unknown. Emma then altered the minds of “all of us” (everyone who lived at the mansion at that time) to perceive a bunch of decoy books as the real thing. She then erased Kitty's memory, and her own, so that no telepath would be able to extract the information by force, before they gave each other a series of post-hypnotic triggers so they could restore one another's memories if they ever needed the books again. When eventually Exodus attacked the school looking for the books, they restored their memories, and decided to send another team to the hidden location where they'd buried a mystery box. Emma gave this location to Sam and Bobby, who dug up the box, which was never opened, and which was destroyed by Gambit during a firefight with Sinister's forces before anyone could confirm its contents.

This was intended by author Mike Carey to be the end of Destiny's Diaries, a dropped plot from a previous creative run, that was vaguely useful at building up to the Messiah Complex crossover, but was a lot more trouble than it was worth to an author who was writing about the X-Men trying to avert a bad future. But there's a lot of room in the story he wrote for the diaries to have survived after all.

I think it's actually really suspicious that the box was accessible to Bobby and Sam at all. Why not drop it under a mountain? Why not bury it under the ocean? Why not keep it phased in a tree? And it's a big red box with a big red 'X' on it. I know the X-Men love their branding and all, but that's going pretty far.

No one actually opens the box before Gambit blows it up either. It could have contained more decoys, or nothing at all. 

And when talking among themselves, Emma and Kitty never actually say that they're sending the X-Men to retrieve the diaries. They say that they know where the diaries are, and then send the X-Men to a place where they've buried something. The intent of the author is clear, but there's room in the dialogue for a later writer to decide that this just was another plan to keep the books hidden.

So for the entire period of time between assembling the complete collection of thirteen diaries, and their seeming destruction, they are never unaccounted for. Only Emma and Kitty knew the full extent of what they did to hide them, and where they were hidden. If fakes were destroyed instead of the real thing, no one would have known.

We could just be in retcon territory, but I don't think so, because it's fine on its own without any direct changes to canon. And really, faking the destruction of the books to cover up their real location makes a lot more sense than believing Emma Frost actually sent Sam to retrieve the incredibly suspicious looking red box that contained the most important object in the world, while half the super villains on the planet were chasing him.

Believing the diaries weren't really destroyed just requires the reader to accept that Emma would lie to the other X-Men, and keep lying to them for years, and that she'd be willing to put Sam and Bobby's lives at risk to protect that lie. Which she was already doing in that story anyway. She was already lying to everyone when she changed everyone's memories. And she—and Scott and Kitty—was already fine with risking everyone's lives when setting up a decoy trap in a school. So that's why I think this works better as a continuation of the existing, known, story of the diaries, and not a direct retcon to what happened.

In conclusion I think Emma knows about Moira because Moira got the diaries from somewhere, and Emma is the person she could have gotten them from. Nothing proves a direct hand-off in, like, a formal standard of proof or anything, but Emma having access to the diaries for so long, and having been wrapped up in this whole weird plot thread—which involves Moira and most of the Quiet Council—is enough to imply the connection in a story sense.

(ETA - For completion’s sake, there is also a weird story I didn’t go into called Chaos War that was published in 2011 where Moira is resurrected and finds a book in the ruins of the Xavier School that may or may not be one of the diaries, and touching it causes her soul to merge with Destiny’s, who then possesses her and guides her through a quest to destroy an evil god. This was an odd story to place in continuity at the time, and has only gotten stranger, given  1. that couldn’t be the real Moira, 2. Destiny is not merged with her soul. If this is in continuity (it’s been suggested that Moira’s golem was the character in this event), and all of the characters are who they say they are, and if the book in question was actually one of the thirteen diaries (and not some other book that Irene also wrote), then it requires Emma to have deliberately left one of the thirteen books behind for “Moira” to find, which if anything only adds to the likelihood that she knows what’s up)

[doux-amer]

Okay, so I no longer have the energy to discuss Marvel stuff at length, but I enjoyed Black Widow, to my surprise. I went in with low expectations, but it ended up being solid. Was it a groundbreaking movie? No. But I’d rank it as one of the best MCU films and it felt like a nice change of pace from your standard MCU fare. The film avoided prioritizing action over character arcs and didn't interrupt the story with unnecessary and often distracting humor.  It's become increasingly obvious over recent years just how much the MCU has started to suffer from what made it unique and innovative in the first place—an interconnected cinematic universe. Everything feels like it's a stepping stone to some big event (hah, in that way, it's emulating the comics well), with characters's stories hastily and sloppily pushed aside for The Main Team Event TM. 

And that's why Black Widow worked. It didn't have world-ending stakes. It wasn't about one Big Bad (the big bad in this story, much like in CA:TWS, is the system which is why the "main boss" didn't have to be impressive and intimidating on his own). The story felt quiet and contemplative in between the action scenes. It was very intimate and the story benefited tremendously from that. What happened in this movie was something that would mean very little to anyone other than the people directly involved and would go unnoticed. 

This isn't something that the whole world will know about and praise her for, and no one treats it as such, both in terms of the characters and the people behind the film. With the exception of a few lines and moments, this film isn't cringeworthy, in-your-face, and ultimately shallow GIRL POWER GIRLBOSS OMG FEMINISM which Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman (and that one stupid as hell scene in IW) both leaned into and imo, were either hindered by or even suffered from. This story is very much one about the patriarchy, misogyny, agency, etc., but it tries to see what the personal ramifications are and how sickening and even banal it all is. It’s about how the world works and treats women, no matter who they are. It’s about how Dreykov, for all his power, is a dime a dozen. The world made it possible for men like Dreykov to exist and do harm. The world goes on without him there, and in the wake of his death and the destruction of the Red Room, his victims still have to deal with all the pain and figure out what they want to do, how they want to do it, and who they want to be afterwards.

Obviously, we also got to see more of Natasha and who she is, what makes her tick, and how her past formed the person she is now. And yes, I dislike Scarjo so I was ready to not care about the movie, but god, I love Natasha and miss her so badly. I ended up unexpectedly crying when the film started and didn't stop until the opening credits ended, not even because something was sad but because that was Natasha! When kid Natasha whipped out her gun and shielded Yelena, I recognized both that skill and heart instantly and it hit me hard. You got that repeatedly throughout the film, and it knits together all the little pieces of Natasha we got throughout the decade. It gives her consistency and strengthens what we already know drives her: her desire to atone and protect and her yearning for a family.

The supporting cast was good too. You could tell they had fun and you could tell they had the acting chops. I get very leery of actors who go over the top in the MCU because almost all the time, it ends up backfiring and undermining their character, but David Harbour had a lot of fun with Alexei and it never bothered me. And I think that's because, behind all of the bombast, there was real emotion behind it that he took seriously and the others did as well. Rachel Weisz...I mean, I don't think I need to say anything more. You expect her to be good and of course she was. And Florence? Yes, this might not be 616 Yelena in many, many ways and I can see how that's upsetting to people (this applies to the Taskmaster as well), but if you see MCU Yelena as her own person, man. Florence overshadows Scarjo which, well, isn't surprising considering her brilliance, but I will say, though, that part of it is because Yelena is a much more energetic character whereas Natasha is more introverted and even a little awkward and shy at times. 

I loved the relationships and they all felt real to me. When they said they were a family? I believed them. When you saw them grapple with what they'd done in the past and what they did to each other and to other people? That felt real too. 

And the action scenes! Wow, did I miss actually good fight choreography after three horrible shows full of goofy af fight scenes that had bad choreography and were terribly shot (the less we talk about Loki, the better, though TFATWS, which probably should have had the slickest shots had by far the worst cinematography). The fights were engaging and you really sensed the urgency and danger in every fight. I felt like Natasha was in danger, that she would get hurt. The hits HURT and you could tell how painful that walloping was (with the exception of the ridiculous scene where Dreykov punched her repeatedly in the face and there was no sign of impact). Everyone felt very human and very easy to break. 

The flow was great and maybe it was slow for some people, but I liked that. I liked that the story took its time to unfold. I liked that you didn't sense any impatience or panic. Everything happened in its own time, but it never dragged for me. There was a great balance between emotional, quiet moments and bursts of action, and neither felt like they undermined the other, a frequent issue I have with MCU works (yet again, one of the best examples and most recent ones is Loki; I hated the fight sequences because they felt so unnecessary and they truly disrupted the flow of things).

Were there things that I wish we got more of or thought could have been tightened up better? Yeah. I wish we got to see more of the Widows, for one thing. I also think it would have been interesting for Natasha to mull over the brainwashing she had versus what Yelena went through; what Yelena went through was much worse and similar to what Bucky went through, but Yelena has the excuse of being a victim with little to no free will whereas Natasha? She was psychologically messed with, but she wasn't being mind controlled. It would've been interesting to see that explored more in depth. I wish we got to see more of the Taskmaster. Etc. etc.

More than anything, though, what left me sad and disappointed after my initial joy and feeling of enjoyment dissipated, was the fact that this came too late. This is a movie that should have come right after CW, and we should have gotten a Black Widow movie right after the Avengers and before TWS or at least after TWS. This is, by far, the most unanimous take and it makes me wonder how everyone at Marvel feels about that, that this is, more than anything, the opinion that's being echoed consistently amongst reviewers and moviegoers alike. And it will never ever ever ever ever fail to piss me off that Markus, McFeely, and the Russos didn't know the Black Widow movie was going to even happen and they ended up offing her. That's a massive decision and I don't know, MAYBE you should have had some more communication! Maybe if that happened, Natasha wouldn't have been fridged (she shouldn't have been in the first place, and one of the things I deeply appreciated about this movie was that it pushed back on the wrongs that male directors and writers have done to her (e.g., Whedon's awful approach to her forced sterilization in AoU, the Russos and M&M saying Clint couldn't die because he had a family as if someone who isn't a parent is less important and less deserving to live and as if Natasha's relationships didn't matter)). Maybe we would have gotten more solo movies with her. We can still get more BW movies, sure, but Natasha herself deserved more. 

And that's why, despite thinking this is one of the best movies of the MCU even if the story itself isn't particularly sensational and not being blown away by it (again, I didn't think it was impressive, but I thought it was very solid), despite being pleasantly surprised by the fact that I enjoyed a MCU movie which is rare for me and walking away with barely anything to be disappointed about let alone upset about, despite thinking that this is the story Natasha deserved and being relieved and happy that this is what she got and this is how she's going to go out, I was still left sad for what could have been and what she deserved. 

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 6 - Search and Rescue

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Read it on AO3 here

A/N: school is over (thank god)

~~~~~~

You stood in that doorway for God knows how long. Shivers traveled down your spine when Kuroo slammed that damned door, and slowly the static built over your frozen muscles. How could you let this happen? He’s right, you could’ve just told them and maybe things would’ve been different. If you really did trust them like you claimed, why didn’t you just admit to everyone and ask for guidance? 

Your instincts kicked in. For a long while, you pushed them back and remained the new person you so desperately wanted to keep around. You knew, somewhere deep down, that if you went back to your old self, that would be the only thing they would talk about. That being said, you weren’t going to back down from a challenge or downplay your strengths, but that killer instinct that those bastards drilled into your head needed to take the back burner for a couple of years.

Too bad you pushed your luck and now it was all boiling over.

Your attention was brought back to that pot, and finally when those reactions kick back in your legs carry you across the apartment. Only grab what’s necessary, burn the rest and get the fuck out. Easy enough, considering you always knew something like this might happen. Just like back in the office, you didn’t own much. It was easy to only have a large duffle bag worth of stuff, clothes and sentimental items mostly.

You made a decision when you first left the Port Mafia to keep other things, clues one might say, as to your involvement with them in a separate location. Weapons too; you never knew when you were gonna need some extra firepower.

Anything else in the apartment that you knew could be used for evidence or could lead anyone back to the office you burned with your belongings. Better to be safe than sorry.

It doesn’t matter if he tells them, you think as you hoist the materials into the metal garbage bin in the parking lot. You’d be gone within the hour because either the Mafia is on their way, or Tooru and Hajmie will stop by in the morning. All you wanted was to protect them.

You patched the back windshield up with a bit of duct tape and a trash bag in the meantime. At least it would keep the cops from pulling you over while you headed over to the shop. Glass shards still litter the back seat, but you could care less as you set the duffle in the passenger's seat and start the engine.

With one last glance, you look to your apartment, the nearby trash can as flames lick the edges of the metal. All of your work suits were in there. All the funky ties Bokuto had given to you as jokes every year at the Christmas parties; all of the pens Akaashi and Kenma had lent you; all of the files Oikawa and Iwaizumi had forgotten at your place over the years; all the little sticky notes Kuroo left on your keyboard-

A tear hits your cheek. It’s a shock to your system and it brings you back to the present. You quickly wipe it off and swing the car out of its spot and head off. 

A plan bubbles in the back of your mind. A way to keep everyone out of danger and clear your involvement. You think of the countless possibilities and endings this could have as your drive down the streets. The trees get denser and the sunlight shines through them like ribbons as you speed down the highway, only thinking of how to survive.

The first thing you’d like to do is to fix the damn windshield. Off the top of your head, you can think of a few people that might be able to help you out, just some local shops that still owed you back when you did people “favors” and that sort of thing. Again, not your brightest moments but they were your moments nonetheless.

Memories flood your system of those times. Back when you practically had the whole mafia under you. Every goon, henchmen and officer looked down when you walked down a corridor. Only those on an equal footing or on your personal squad would even bother trying to talk with you.

Not that you were authoritative or anything. Far from it, actually. Out of all of the four executives, you were the most forgiving, the most human. But it was the fact that you were an executive; the shared second in command position for all of the Port Mafia. With a brain and a gift like yours, it was an obvious choice but called for you to make a lot of tough decisions.

“Y/N,” Ushijima greeted you with a bow, and once he stood to his full height he stared directly into your eyes. The vertical distance was pretty large at the time, considering this was almost seven years ago. You remember looking up at him and feeling nothing despite his size and stature. Slightly behind him on the left stood a man, almost equally as tall with bright red hair.

“Hello boys,” a coy smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You used to be so full of yourself, and you roll your eyes at the thought. You were not only the youngest mafia member to become an executive, but also the first female to achieve the position despite who the boss was. Is? Hell if you knew whether that old bat is still kicking it.

Tendou had the tendency to lean over Ushijima’s shoulder and look down on you, almost like you were an animal in a zoo, but you got along with him just fine otherwise. Whenever you guys were in the same room you’d joke around, try and get on Ushi’s nerves but nothing ever seemed to work. On occasion he’d try and get you both to meet up for dinner but you’d always end up busy with meetings.

You saw him as a friend. Someone to kill the time with. Not much else, but you always saw the small shimmer in his eyes when he’d try and make those dinner plans. You felt in your gut that a question might pop up one of those nights if you sat down in a fancy restaurant with him.

“I don’t think Washijo is gonna appreciate you doing all of those construction deals in the southwest.” The redhead sang to you in a tune that was unrecognizable.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s only making us more money and I did it ‘legally’ this time.” Unfazed by his teasing, you continued into the meeting room and took your place on the left side, by the head of the long conference table.

Ushijima followed opposite of you, taking up the chair directly across from you on the right. The spaces next to either of you that follow down the long edge of the hardwood were left empty, and your respective teams filled in the chairs after that point.

Everyone was dressed up, black and white attire. You always opted for a pantsuit rather than a dress or skirt purely because the port brought in the seaside winds and you’d rather not flash anyone. Oikawa, Iwaizumi and two others sit in their suits further down the table, hands folded and placed atop the table. They made small chit chat with the other squads, Oikawa smiled and bantered while Iwa usually just sat and listened. 

They were members of your personal squad almost the entire time you held the title of “executive”.Them and the two others that sat next to them, Matsukawa and Hanamaki. You kept your personal group small since you’d be around them constantly. Those four were always funny together, always made things lighthearted despite the horrid situations you found yourselves in.

“She’s right Tendou,” Ushijima’s voice could’ve rattled the whole building if he spoke louder. “Out of us four she’s pulled in the most territory and revenue over the last quarter.”

“That’s because she's not doing the best in one category Washijo will strip her title, no questions asked.” Oikawa whispered to Iwa, very cautious of who might hear him. From what you can remember, a fair amount of the members weren’t as progressive as you had hoped when you first joined, but it didn’t stop you from climbing the ranks.

Your thumb beats against the steering wheel at the memories. Were you really happy then? Were you really doing what you wanted?

It’s taken you years to find the answer, but you’ve concluded that both are no. You hated working for them. You hated the senseless murder, especially if it was for a bullshit excuse like “it’s all for a better Yokohama”. To hell with it all, you’d tell yourself after spending nights hiding in homes that were starting to fall apart. For half a year you lived as though the modern world didn’t exist, all by yourself. You would only go into town to buy groceries or if it was absolutely necessary. 

It was a sad life, but it was better than living in a high-rise apartment where goons would pretend to be buddy-buddy with you just to up their rank. It was better than pretending to care what that old fool had to say about your operating style and the fact you didn’t do anything “by the book”.

Your thumb stops drumming a while ago and your fists tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning red and white as you press your skin firmly into the rubber. The morning rays dissipated a while ago as well, the sun fully shining her light down on the city. The further you drive, the more recognizable the area becomes. Dreary, dark streets turn into buildings and stores with an even darker past. Your stomach churns with every old memory seeping back into your brain, only the faces of the agency members keep you going as you pull into an all too familiar lot.

~

Iwaizumi’s hands run through his dark hair, gripping the strands and pulling them as he looks at the disaster around him. Chairs broken into pieces, glass shards all across the floors, papers littering every nook and cranny of your apartment. Nothing was salvageable. Anything you had bought was destroyed either by your own hands or someone else's.

Oikawa dug through the cabinets and drawers to find anything that could be an affirmative that this was the Port Mafia’s doing, or at least give them an idea of who it could’ve been. The dumpster fire outside was obviously your doing, either of the boys recognized that in an instant considering it was all of your clothes and it was practically only embers by the time they had gotten there.

Hajime’s heart is pounding heavily in his chest. He was the one who protected the ones he cared about. That was his gift and his duty to you all, and he failed miserably at it since you’re gone and now everything is on fire (literally and figuratively).

“They left the stamp!” Tooru stumbles over bits and pieces of debris as he rushes to show Hajime the small insignia that was left on a scrap of paper. The Port Mafia always left them at raids so either rival gangs or the police knew exactly who beat them to it.

Iwaizumi snaps out of his little trance, the iron grip on his hair loosens enough for his hands to run down the back of his head to the base of his neck. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but it narrowed down some of their options.

He grasps the small paper and double checks it to make sure every design detail was exactly the same, that this wasn’t a dupe or some imposters work. Tooru watches with careful eyes as Iwa mimics his exact same actions from just moments ago.

Kuroo walks up to the complex, hands in his pockets and head hung low. After being told off by Takeda, he was instructed to go help look for you. Since you’re all still on a case together, and “regardless of personal affairs”, you were all assigned to this case for a reason, or that’s what he said at least.

In his mind, Kuroo is in the right. He has every right to be angry with you. For three years you withheld that one of the greatest crime organizations was a past employer. I must be the biggest fucking joke. 

He knows deep down that this is all just pain coming out as anger. He just lost one of his best friends, one of the few people in his life that he genuinely cares about enough to hang out with on his days off - and one of the only people he’s been interested in years.

Everytime he thinks about your laugh, or your little smile when you finish a stack of paperwork, his heart hurts a little more. The tightness in his chest is something he only experienced when his parents divorced when he was eleven, but it wasn’t even bad compared to now.

How could he not be angry?

Once his feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot, he finally glances up and realizes the chaos around him. The pile of garbage in the bin was merely smoldering at this point. He looks to the apartment and notices the two figures standing in the living room, which he can see through the window. Both seem to be inspecting something in the palm of Iwaizumi’s hand, unaware that Kuroo is standing in the parking lot.

“Guys…?” Kuroo’s voice is soft as he passes through the threshold into your apartment. “What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi and Oikawa turn to face him immediately, not expecting anyone else to be here and they certainly were not expecting it to be Kuroo.

“Y/N’s gone.” Tooru speaks clearly as he glares daggers at the man who dared to speak against you only thirty minutes ago. Iwa crumples the stamped paper in his hand and clenches his jaw.

“Yeah… I can see that.” Kuroo’s eyes shift between all corners of the room, processing every bit of information his eyes came across.

Hajime nudges Tooru with his hand (rather harshly but the anger wasn’t directed at him) and he walks out of the apartment, shoulder checking Kuroo as they pass by. There was nothing more for them there, and now Tooru and himself are going to have to think of a way to find you.

Kuroo remains in his spot as a weight starts to bear down on his body. The couch he crashed on when he was too drunk, the table you guys mulled over paperwork together - the apartment he had made so many memories in was completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but start to think that this might just be his fault. He left you last night in the exact spot he’s standing in right now. Yes, he was upset. What you two had built was entirely based off of trust, and Kuroo hasn’t trusted someone that much in a very long time (Kenma can attest to that). 

You deemed that information as potentially harmful to him, and he told you that you had no right. What kind of idiot am I? As he looks around the space, he realizes now just how dangerous this all really is.

Iwaizumi stomps his way back onto the main roads and keeps a hand clutched around the stamped paper. “Who the hell does he think he is?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone, but Tooru knows this is how he expresses his anger without going to the gym.

“Takeda probably sent him since everyone at the agency still doesn't know what’s going on.” Tooru pulls on his jacket and follows Iwa down the sidewalk.

“Better off just leaving us the hell alone. Ukai and Takeda aren’t stupid and they both know something has always been up with Y/N. As soon as we came into the picture I’m pretty sure they picked up on us being involved with her too. Kuroo shouldn’t be sticking his nose in this,” Iwa huffs, but Oikawa makes the motion to start talking before he is swiftly cut off. “And I don’t give a shit what Y/N told him. The only reason she did so was because she had too after last night. There was no way for her to cover up that encounter with Tendou and you know it.”

“Do you think she would’ve kept it from them forever though?”

“I don’t know. She’s never really told us why she left in the first place, but Y/N was with the Port Mafia for years. Most of her teenage and early adult life was spent with them before she just up and left.” Iwaizumi shoves the paper into his pocket as he talks, also placing his jacket over his shoulders. He guides the pair back to the subway station.

“Guys!” The two stop walking for a moment, each processing whose voice was calling out but once it registers that it’s only Kuroo, they continue down the steps into the station. “Wait up!”

Their pace picks up as they pull out their passes to scan and get through the bars as quickly as possible. Too bad Kuroo’s legs are long and he catches up to them in the nick of time. Just as Tooru swipes his card, Kuroo is hot on his heels as he fumbles around to find his own train pass. “Wait- please.”

Tooru can tell that he’s desperate, but when Iwa glances over his shoulder to check on the situation Tooru can see the anger starting to bubble up again. His own stomach churns at the thought that Kuroo can just switch on a dime if need be. That even though you explained everything to him, it still took seeing all of the damage for him to realize what kind of scenario this really is.

“Please Oikawa,” Kuroo grabs his shoulder once he makes it past the turnstiles. “Let me help you guys find Y/N.”

“And why the hell would we want your help?” Ignoring that he called for Oikawa, Hajime fully turns around and marches over to Kuroo. Although he is shorter than both of them, Hajime has this air about him that says I will kill you here and now depending on how you answer.

Kuroo’s chest pounds against itself. He snapped out of his own thoughts pretty quickly back at the apartment and realized that you could actually be hurt. This wasn’t just something nonchalant, there was a reason you kept this from him. 

After coming to, he figured the only thing he can do in this situation is to find you. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were involved in this somehow. There was a reason they weren’t at your apartment last night having that same discussion. “I know you two are the only ones who are gonna be able to find her-” he pauses to take a few deep breaths “-and I owe her an apology.”

“No shit you owe her an apology after all of the fucking chaos you caused back at the office. You’re lucky I didn’t deck you in your fucking chair.” Iwaizumi steps closer to Kuroo, almost chest to chest, and stares right into his irises. 

Oikawa grabs at Iwa’s bicep and tugs him back. “Let’s just go Hajime.” Iwa snarls and stomps away.

“Please…” Kuroo can’t mess this up, he knows that. This is the only shot he has at finding you is by getting in with these two. “I know I screwed up.”

Oikawa slows his pace, listening to the pleas of someone he once considered more than an acquaintance. His mind is telling him to follow Hajime and find you as quickly as possibly, but he also knows in his heart that Kuroo meant well. You trusted him enough to explain everything to him.

“I don’t know if Y/N’s dead.” Kuroo’s voice cracks as he thinks out loud of what might be. “I- I know I messed up really bad but I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Look,” Oikawa stops fully and turns his head to speak, “most likely she’s not dead since there weren’t any signs of struggle at the apartment. Her car was gone and her personal belongings were either missing or charred in the trash can in the parking lot. The mafia just destroyed her house, but my bet is that she’s still alive.”

Iwaizumi had stopped walking as well, listening to Kuroo’s plight. Although he was full of anger, he heard the crack in his voice. He hears his pleas and Hajime is torn on what is the right decision.

The three are silent as civilians walk past them, hurrying from one train to the next. Hajime takes a deep breath and rubs his eyebrows with the index and thumb of his right hand. “You have a lot of shit to make up for and explain after this morning, especially if you’re gonna help find her.”

Oikawa and Kuroo look at him in shock. “So I can come-”

“We’re still working on a case together and Y/N is a part of this.” Iwa cuts him off with both his words and a glare. “Nothing more. Once we know she’s alive we’re done. We’ll do what we have too, but you don’t get to go any further than that. Y/N wanted to protect you and everyone at the agency, so the least you can do is stay out of all of this. For her sake.”

Wordlessly, Kuroo nods and the pair in front of him start to walk further down the pathways, hopping onto a train and heading into the city. Hajime’s expression is stern, Tooru has an air of uncertainty about him and Kuroo clenches his fists around nothing, wondering where you could be and what’s going to happen now.

“Where are we going?” Kuroo asks once they all press themselves amongst the crowd of people.

“Back to the agency. We left some of our gear there and then we’ll have to stop by Iwaizumi’s house to get some more.” Oikawa looks around the train cautiously.

Kuroo opens to speak again, but then closes his mouth. That just means I’ll have to explain what’s going on to everyone else. 

“Everyone there has had their suspicions about Y/N and the both of us, so it really doesn’t matter if you tell them we’re ex-members as well.” Hajime outright confirms the next thing on Kuroo’s mind. He had the intention of asking, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up in conversation. “I’m getting in and getting out as quickly as I possibly can. I don’t owe these people any explanations as to why I’m choosing to find Y/N, or why this matters to me.”

Respectable is the only word that comes to mind when Kuroo thinks of Iwaizumi. He’s a gentleman, chivalrous and makes good on his word. Although he has a mild temper at times, Kuroo has never known him to say something he does not mean.

“Y/N may have been our boss, but she cared for us more than anyone in that damned organization ever would’ve if we stayed. We owe her a lot, and finding her and helping her can only pay a small portion of that back.” Oikawa pipes up, sprinkling more bits and pieces of information for Kuroo to pick up on. “She’s like a sister to me and it would kill me to know that she might be out there, struggling when I could’ve helped. The same goes for Iwa-chan.”

The rest of the train ride is silent between the three. Kuroo tries his best to wrap his head around everything that has happened in less than twelve hours. Not only was it revealed to him that you were an ex-mafia member, but two of his other co-workers were as well, and you used to be an executive. You ran a portion of the city for years, Iwaizumi and Oikawa working under you until you left for unknown reasons and joined the Armed Detective Agency sometime later.

You were one of the most powerful people in Yokohama, but why did you leave it all? What drove you out? Oikawa didn’t really give a reason as to why they left, but it was related to you in some way.

Walking in the agency doors with a new perspective gave Kuroo an icky feeling. Everyone in the office turns to see who it is, and their eyes go wide when the three figures walk through the door. Oikawa and Iwaizumi beeline it over to their desks and start to rummage through the drawers and shoving things in their pockets. Kuroo stands awkwardly by the door before walking slowly over to his belongings and picking up what he thinks he’ll need.

Bokuto and Akaashi watch him carefully, waiting for an opportunity to ask what was happening. It was Ukai, who walked into the main office right after the front door slammed shut, that broke the deafening silence.

“My office. Now.” The three halt their movements for a moment, knowing the order was directed towards them but each unwilling to actually make their way over. Surprisingly Oikawa moves first, eyes watching the ground as he moves to follow the blonde. Iwaizumi and Kuroo follow shortly after, the other detectives shifting slightly in their seats to try and get a better position to listen in.

Ukai’s private office space only had two guest chairs, so Kuroo was forced to lean against the back wall as they held conversation.

“I’m assuming that under all the circumstances brought up today, Y/N wasn’t at her house and now you’re all back to try and find her.” Ukai’s eyes shift around the room, glaring at each of them individually but lingering on Kuroo’s a split second longer than the others.

“That would be correct.” Tooru confirms. He never feared vocal confrontation since he usually charmed his way out of things, but this was a situation he knew that required a certain level of honesty.

“So she’s not dead, just missing, and your plan is to find her and then what?” The butt of his cigarette package is beaten at the base of his palm before he opens the backing and pulls one out. He lets the question linger in the air for a moment before placing the filter to his lips. A small black lighter that’s usually kept in the desk drawer is rummaged out before flickering to life. Ukai takes a long drag in, and slowly exhales the thick smoke into the cramped room.

A noxious smell enters the senses of every other man in the room, each scowling when they realize that the air conditioner isn’t running and the windows are shut. Ukai’s set on getting his answers, one way or another.

With a light cough, the charmer opens his mouth once more. “Y/N must have a plan if she decided to burn everything and run. Once we find her, Iwaizumi and myself plan on helping her in whatever she decides. Kuroo will be returning to the agency. Depending on what happens with Y/N we may or may not be coming back.”

The end of the cigarette burns bright when Ukai inhales. He’s attentive to every word and weighs the possibilities in his mind, although he knows that two of them have every intention to find you regardless if Ukai wants them too.

“Is her apartment gone?”

“No, just trashed from the Port Mafia.” Oikawa speaks again, knowing that Kuroo is in no position to speak and Iwaizumi would rather be out looking for you.

“You said she burned everything, is that correct?”

“Yes. She burnt her personal belongings and took her car. There was nothing left in her house at the time of arrival but the furniture was smashed to pieces.” Tooru’s mouth dries as he speaks, taking a breath to swallow his spit and think of his next words. “We think that she left her apartment right after she explained everything to Kuroo and the mafia found her address a few hours later.”

Using his better judgement, he thought it would be better to be upfront about everything than only tell Ukai bits. After working with him for so long, Oikawa knows that Ukai isn’t a fool.

A beat of silence passes over them. Ukai takes into consideration all of his options, or what he can control. Kuroo looks down at his hands and remains passive; Iwaizumi doing the same but shaking his leg, hoping that the time would pass quicker so they can get out there and start searching.

“Do you think you can actually find her?” The cigarette is only a butt now, the ashes have been tapped into a tray sitting on the edge of Ukai’s desk, who stares into the stern irises of Iwaizumi. He matches the intensity and responds without hesitation.

“Yes. It might take a couple of nights, but I doubt she left the city.”

Ukai runs his tongue across his upper teeth, lips shut as he looks at this rag-tag team sitting before him. Three men who want to find you desperately, two with the same intent and the third still a mystery to him considering the events from just an hour ago. “I want reports on everything once you get back.” Kuroo’s head snaps up only to find the Ukai is looking between them as he smothers the cig in it’s ashtray. “Go find her.”

[mallickshah]

A club council meeting.

Because of the unfortunate events that transpired and were (falsely!!) reported by The Deck, on the morning of September 7 2024, The Club Council found themselves obligated to hold an emergency meeting at their current headquarters, Ace of Club Mallick’s house. This meeting took place in a living room that now resembled more of a formal office than a family living room.All 8 members of the Council were present during this meeting, it went as follow.

✨with the brilliant participation of: @nihtegalc​ (bry) & @hilo--keahi (alex)✨ ✨(great collab, let’s do this again \o/)

The news came as a bit of a shock; but not the kind that would leave him terrified and disoriented. More so of the kind that had him rubbing at his temples and closing his eyes as he leaned back further in the chair he was in. The cushion welcomed him instantly, a recent gift from one of the people he’d helped, it was also gods given since it was halting whatever throbbing in his skull would have begun to pound by now. The present hadn’t been necessary and Mallick hadn’t wanted it when he’d received it but now, he could only think about how much he would have regretted that decision. 

Aside from that, it did help him remind why he had to think about this recent issue with a clear head. Did he have his doubts when it came to the decisions he took, or the ones he’d taken? Of course, how could he not? Everything he did from now on would always fall back on his shoulders and right on the head of every member of his faction. But he had to, because it would help to do so.

It didn’t help that he knew these people like the back of his hands and that was also why he did not want to control them, but rather turn them towards something more beneficial. On their own. So of course, Mallick shouldn’t be surprised by these types of incidents. But why Spades of all factions? Clubs had never shown any signs of wanting a war with them in particular, as far as he’d witnessed growing up, Spades had been a sore point sure--what’s with their respectability and the reputation they held contrasting strongly against Clubs’. But Mallick had always felt this weird agreement with other Clubs that trash talking them was one thing, actually going against them though? Another one they’d been entirely not into for the longest.

This smelled like more than it seemed; especially with the report that some key evidence pointed directly to his involvement. Mallick would love to see what that key evidence was exactly.

For now though, he kept his ears ope to the council members sat in the room were talking about, they were mostly arguing over the next measures to take from what he could gather. They’d already ruled out that Mallick had ordered the attack, if the attack had been done by Clubs at all. Key evidence or not, he’d had no time to plan any attack on anyone. But Mallick had not ruled out that someone in this room might want something bigger than the chair they were sitting in. He hadn’t ruled that out from the moment he’d formed an alliance with them. Mallick let his fingers part as he peeked at them through it, he could use a truth potion right now. Or a spell. 

Something to reveal their cards in a less suspicious way than the one he felt like he’d be forced to take soon enough. His first attempt at quitting them was interrupted by one of the members suddenly voicing out something as ridiculous as, “I’ll bet ya’ they did the whole thing all by themselves to accuse us and cause a war!” 

“Yeah, I mean who would benefit from this? Not us.” Another voice agreed, and out of all seven of them, Mallick had always known those two for being the first to start talking about things that made little to no sense. However, they’d been posted there because of the trust some very highranked Clubs had in them. Mallick had appointed those he trusted beyond measure and he’d made sure to pick out from the rest those who would do the job ‘just as well’ as the ones he’d handpicked. He couldn’t just have a council of members full of only his people, Clubs would not settle for that. 

He wanted to interject right then and counterpoint this, but something told him to sit back and wait for more of them to add more theories. Which made Fallon speak in turn, against these allegations. Mallick wasn’t surprised, even if he forgot sometimes that she did belong to the Spade faction. 

“Why would they attack us now when they’ve always been friendly or neutral?” 

Fair point. They all looked at each other, the ones who had thrown the accusations probably ransacking their empty brains only good for inciting feuds to answer her. But as none came, he heard her take in a sigh, which made him hold back the grin he had on his face. He would have missed this if she hadn’t decided to be part of the whole thing, the way her expression gave away how stupid she thought people ideas were sometimes. Good old Fallon of course went on imperturbed. 

“We’ve been through a water crisis before and they didn’t need our supplies then, why would they need our supplies now?” 

To be fair, Mallick had thought that this was definitely a ploy by someone--Spades specifically? Maybe for a tiny second. He wouldn’t tell her that though, he’d prefer to not get chewed out by her silence, that spoke with more volume most times. But he agreed with her, there was no surprise there. Although recent news about Spade’s Ace could leave room for some reasonable doubts.

Which meant as soon as the other members were beginning to try to find a way to justify their accusations he finally interjected, he didn’t want this wild idea to plant seed and start growing a monstrous infected tree. Plus some of them were now mumbling about Fallon being ex-spade, so of course she would be defending them, and what said she wasn’t actually on their side despite having defected? 

“Enough.” He commanded and they all stopped and turned their eyes on him, Fallon included. Mallick heaved out a soft sigh, “If Fallon was not for Clubs, she would not have helped us for 3 whole years without ever asking for anything more than what was offered to her as a deal. If you cannot trust her, maybe it is you that needs to rethink your role here as a council member.” 

Displeasure lined up some member’s features, but that was now common to see. Plus, how rich of him to say this when he didn’t trust half of them in this room. Mallick cleared his throat and shook his head. He’d already made peace with the fact that some discussions would simply never end up with them seeing eye to eye, it was expected. He’d had years of experience doing this in The Resistance.

“Spades are not our enemies, they’ve never been, end of that topic.” Whether his stance pleased them or not, they needed to move on from this. “Let’s put our brains to better use.”

They needed to focus on a solution, not what another faction wanted out of this, but what this meant for them as a faction. What was done was done, there was no turning the wheels back. Something had been stolen, but more importantly, lives had been lost. Mallick knew what he had to do next. 

“Did we find the stolen shipment anywhere on our territory?” He asked with a calmer tone this time. That was the one that always seemed to get them to take him more seriously, he’d noted that earlier on. 

“No, we’ve sent some people to take a look but so far nothing’s come through.” 

Before Mallick could interject with another inquiry, another member of the council leaned forward on their elbows and added in, “No witnesses either, but some villagers said they heard a whole lot of ruckus on that same day. A lot of groaning and screaming too, another villager said. They live close to an Inn.”

There did exist a mention of no other bodies but the ones of the Spades being found, plus some of the Spades having disappeared. Mallick took his hand off his face, interest piqued as he regarded the member who’d just spoken. 

“And where’s that Inn located?” 

“Close to where the ambush happened, too close to my liking even.”

Mallick also wanted to throw his hands in the air, scream a little, let out some of this frustration. But he couldn’t, not with them in the same room, he also would never find the time to. The image he wanted to upkeep would not let him do such a thing even by himself, because nowadays, by himself he felt as though he had to stay even calmer. 

This meeting had to come to an end, Mallick surveyed the members of the Council, an eyebrow arching expectentantly, “Any last thoughts?” hoping it would be something new and not going back to any of the other points they’d dismissed. It seemed alas, that someone had something else to add.

Hilo who had remained quiet until now, observing the fight without participating, most likely gathering his thoughts without yet voicing them. Said thoughts that Mallick was certain would bring forth a new angle. Hilo had always managed to bring it back to something even more important in every change that occurred in these meetings, right back to the lowrankers. It was his main point of focus after all, so there was no surprise there. If Clubs and Spades went to war, it was them who would likely suffer the worst of it. So when his call for last thoughts came out and he finally made to speak up, Mallick was attentive and he expected the rest of the Council to do the same.

“It’s important we find out who’s behind this, but it’s just as important that we patch things up with the Spade faction, too.” Hilo cast a brief glance towards Fallon, one that spoke of a shared understanding for those existing between two separate worlds. 

“We should approach them with some sign of goodwill. If supplies were stolen or destroyed, we should swallow our pride and offer some. Show them that even if it was Clubs, whoever carried out this attack doesn’t speak for the best of us. And even if it wasn’t, we’re better than rising to the bait.” 

Hilo leveled a glance at the worst of the quarrelers then, arms unfolding from his broad chest in a half-shrug. Mallick agreed with a nod, whatever disgruntled thoughts others had, he seemed to catch sight of some expressions turning contrit at the fact that this was not a lie in itself. This had been one of his main talking points many times before, the pride that lay in being a Club and how they had to take it back and make it entirely theirs and no one else should have the right to monopolize it.

“There’s honor in fighting. It’s the way of the Clubs. But there’s no honor in letting someone else pick our battles for us.” As Hilo concluded, Mallick could only lay back one more time and raise his hand towards no goals particularly, a silent applaud for Hilo’s words maybe. 

“I couldn’t agree more, giving back what they think we took or destroyed will be handled then. As to the last point about our honor that Hilo made, I think at least on that one we’ve all always seen eye to eye or am I wrong?” 

The challenge was evident in his tone and he already knew that Hilo and Fallon would not be the one he had to survey, but he was pleased to notice that as usual, when it came to the main objective this Council had been created for, choosing better or worse for themselves by themselves, the consensus would never change. So the nods of approval, even if underlined with other disagreements, was slow, receptive and that was all Mallick needed to put an end to this meeting. 

With a quiet sigh he regarded one of the Council members in charge of communication coming in and going out. 

“Bring forth two messengers and someone else to write down the messages; I’d like to request a meeting with the deck and a scroll of advice sent out to every house in this faction.” 

They gave him a nod and left the room without any further comment, leaving Mallick to softly dismiss the meeting. Farewells were given and once alone, Mallick knew he’d have at best five minutes to rest before he had to keep moving again, that should be enough for him to close his eyes and fill his mind with nothing but a welcomed void.