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fandomsaligninstories · 4 months

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Year Two: Flourish and Botts

Chapter List WC: 1,861

31st August, 1992

Violet Ellis had never been so excited for school to start. She had been counting down the days until the first of September, looking forward to reuniting with her wizarding friends.

As promised, she'd kept in touch with most of them over the summer holiday. Her friends Hannah Abbott, Caroline Dodd, Aimee McCall, and even Hermione Granger had been regularly sending letters. Once a week she'd manage to send each of them a response, then she'd watch out the windows of her room, awaiting the familiar sight of an owl.

The first time she'd received a letter, her parents had gotten quite the shock. They were sitting in their back garden, enjoying the cool summer night, when two owls flew down and dropped letters into Violet's lap. Her father leaped to his feet, trying to shoo them away before Violet could explain their presence. Hannah and Aimees first letters had arrived, and she'd been so excited that she nearly tripped over herself trying to get inside to read them.

The four Hufflepuffs agreed to meet on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, so that they could ride the Hogwarts Express together. She had sorely missed her friends, but almost as much, she missed using magic. She never knew to miss it before her first year at Hogwarts, but now she had learned how convenient it was to everyday life.

When the end of August finally arrived, she and her parents made the trip to the Leaky Cauldron. After their introduction the previous year, her muggle parents could see the pub, nestled between a bookshop and music shop, but they'd never entered it without Violet.

When they entered Diagon Alley, Violet was as in awe as the first time she'd seen the magical alley. Full of wizarding shops, with witches and wizards wandering throughout, she felt the magnetic pull of magic at her fingertips, itching to pull out her wand and cast a spell.

She and her parents perused the alley, first stopping at Gringotts, the wizarding bank, before completing her shopping for the years supplies. The one purchase she'd been wanting most was her very own owl. She'd chosen a beautiful barn owl, with a light tan belly and face, brown head, and brown-black wings that resembled scorched wood. It was based on her colouring that Violet chose her name, Coco. Her father carried the owl's cage, along with a tote of things she would need, including food and treats.

To her surprise, out of the eight books she would need, seven of them were written by a Gilderoy Lockhart. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she guessed, judging by the book topics- werewolves, vampires, ghouls, and other magical beasts. She paused outside the shop, taking notice of the large gathering of people inside.

"Will you wait out here?" She asked her parents, "I promise to be quick!"

"Are you sure, dear?" Her mother worried, also noticing the people inside Flourish and Blotts.

Violet nodded eagerly, dashing inside the moment her parents said okay. Inside the shop, she pushed through the crowd. Mostly women, she realised, all waiting with the same book in hand.

"Violet?" She looked around as she heard her name, focusing on a group of kids, one of which was waving her hand in the air, "Violet, over here!"

"Hermione!" She pushed her way through the crowd, joining Hermione, Harry, Ron, and some others to the side of the shop, "Busy today!"

"Oh yes, Gilderoy Lockhart is doing a book signing, so all the mums are here doing the 'shopping' for their kids." Hermione giggled.

"That's Mrs. Weasley," Hermione tilted her head to the red haired woman fussing over Harry, who was covered in soot for some reason, "That's Mr. Weasley, and Ginny. She's a first-year this year!"

Violet smiled and mumbled a hello, watching as a man came out of the back of the shop, eliciting excited gasps and clapping from the surrounding crowd.

The man was rather average, Violet thought to herself. He was average height, with blonde hair and a bright grin. He was dressed spectacularly in a silver and blue suit, completed with a vest, tie, and cloak.

Violet held in a giggle when the man, who'd been introduced as Mr. Lockhart, winked at Mrs. Weasley, who responded by gasping and fluffing her hair with her hand.

"Mum fancies him," Ron mumbled, earning a light smack in the arm from Mrs. Weasley.

Lockhart posed and smiled for a cameraman from the Daily Prophet, the wizarding world newspaper. His smile dropped when he locked eyes with Harry, "Harry Potter?"

The cameraman swung around and grabbed hold of Harry's shoulder, dragging him to Lockhart's side. Harry stood frozen until Lockhart pulled him into his side, smiling wide and murmuring something to the wide-eyed boy beside him.

The flashbulb went off again as Lockhart spoke to the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography "Magical Me", the crowd applauded again, "Which, incidentally is currently celebrating it's 27th week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list, he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected work free of charge!"

Gilderoy handed Harry a large stack of books before shoving him away, then sitting behind a table and smiling charmingly at the crowd.

"Harry, you give me those and I'll get them signed! All of you wait outside!" Mrs. Weasley waved her children and the others away, making her way to the front of the line.

As the group of kids made their way out of the shop, they were stopped by a familiar blond rushing down the stairs towards them.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Draco Malfoy hissed, moving to stand toe to toe with Harry. Draco was now taller than the rest of them, "Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

Violet moved forward, standing beside Harry, but before she could say a word, little Ginny stepped forward and glared at Draco, "Leave him alone."

"Oh, look, Potter. You've got yourself a girlfriend." Draco had barely finished speaking when a man came up behind him, dropping the silver handle of a cane onto Draco's shoulder, silencing him.

The man was tall, dressed in all black, and had long white-blond hair. Draco's father, presumably.

"Now, now, Draco. Play nicely." He turned his sharp gaze from his son to Harry, "Mr. Potter. Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last..."

Lucius Malfoy held out a gloved hand, which Harry shook timidly. The entire group of youths stared at Lucius, awaiting his contemptuous attitude. They weren't unfamiliar with his reputation, as Draco had a rather annoying habit of crying "Wait until my father hears about this!" anytime someone wronged him in some way.

Without dropping Harry's hand, he pulled him forward and lifted his cane. He used the handle of it, which was a silver snake head, to brush aside Harry's shaggy black hair and examined the lightning bolt scar, "Forgive me... Your scar is legend, as, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you."

"Voldemort killed my parents." Harry said, taking a step back, "He was nothing more than a murderer."

Lucius hummed, "You must be very brave to mention his name... Or very foolish."

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Hermione said, gently moving in front of Ginny, having returned from the book signing.

Lucius turned his gaze to her, "And you must be... Miss Ganger." He glanced at his son, who nodded in confirmation, "Yes. Draco's told me all about you and your parents."

Hermione turned to look at her parents, who were in the back of the shop with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Muggles... Aren't they?" Lucius' voice had an edge to it as he turned back to look at the group of kids. "Let me see. Red hair, vacant expressions... Tatty secondhand book... You must be the Weasley's."

Violet bit her tongue as Lucius looked from Ginny to Ron, then the twins, Fred and George.

Mr. Weasley came up behind the group, smiling at his kids, "Children, it's mad in here. Let's go outside."

"Well, well, well, Weasley senior."

"Lucius."

"Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur. All those extra raids? I do hope they're paying you overtime. But judging by the state of this," He held up the book he had pulled from Ginny's cauldron, "I'd say not. What's the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly. Associating with muggles..." He stepped towards Mr. Weasley, returning the books to Ginny's cauldron, "And I thought your family could sink no lower. I'll see you at work."

Lucius exited the shop. Draco stopped in front of Harry, his words dripping in venom, "See you at school."

Once the Malfoy's had left, the kids all turned to Mrs. Weasley, who had just returned with a pile of books. Harry took his from her, thanking her.

They exited the shop, and Violet took a deep breath of fresh air. The shop had become stuffy with all the people inside, and the encounter with the Malfoy's had her gritting her teeth in anger.

"Mum! Dad!" She waved her parents over from where they were seated at a small cafe a few shops away. They took the totes containing books from Violet, allowing her to stretch her fingers from the weight of them.

"These are the friends I told you about! This is Hermione and her parents, Harry, and Ron. And this is Ron's family." The adults took turns introducing themselves, following behind the kids as they made their way out of Diagon Alley and to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Can we stay for lunch?" Violet looked at her parents hopefully, "Please?"

"Sorry, dear, but we really need to get home. It's late." Her mother used her free hand to ruffle Violet's brunette hair, which had grown past her shoulders over the last few months.

"Sorry." She shrugged, looking at Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who had taken up a table, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"'Course!" Hermione beamed at her, "See you tomorrow!"

Violet and her parents left the pub, and Violet told them about the run in with the Malfoy's. She'd only briefly told them about her problems with Draco the previous year, not wanting to worry them. On the drive home, they warned her to stay away from the Malfoy family, which she reassured them she would do her best.

That night, when she'd settled into bed, she wondered to herself about what Lucius Malfoy had meant to do. Was he trying to intimidate Harry and his friends? Or did he normally use veiled threats towards those he deemed to be "disgraced wizards"?

No matter, she told herself. She wouldn't have any dealings with any of the Malfoy's this year. She'd do everything she could to avoid Draco Malfoy.

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jax-is-rattled · 2 years

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This was supposed to be a drabble... En ee way.

A quiet jingling pulled Moss' focus from the sandwich he was currently tearing to shreds. They could hear him before they saw him, and for good reason. August started carrying bells in his pocket or tying them to his tail so he didn't accidentally sneak up on the skittish ghoul. He still had the double blackeyes and the bandages on his nose to prove why he shouldn't. At least the bruises healed considerably over the past couple of days, still tender though. But still, he had that goofy smile that he always had when it snowed at the abby. August jingled his way over to Moss with bundles of cloth. They barely had time to swallow the bite of sandwich before the lump cloth was thrown at his face, BW scampering off before he had time to react, throwing a quick "Courtyard, 5 minutes, see ya there Pebble!" Over his shoulder. What? It's cold as fuck out why would he want him out- He looked at what was thrown at him, now in his lap. A coat, scarf, gloves, and a hat. Oh. Guess this is how he's spending his day off...

He pulled on the coat and hat, haphazardly throwing the scarf over his neck, and sticking the gloves in his pocket. He's a big ghoul he doesnt need gloves! He kicked open the door to the courtyard as he fiddled with the buttons on the coat, looking for where this damn water ghoul went. The snow was up almost to their knees. They locked onto where August stood next to two much taller ghouls who he recognized as Cinis and Lucian. He was comically short next to them and Moss laughed... until he remembered that they're the same height.

They trudged their way over to the gaggle of ghouls, pausing as he realized that this was a perfect opportunity to tackle the smallest ghoul. They started picking up speed. August's back was turned to them and he was gesturing wildly to a half built snow dick and talking excitely, tail wagging wildly, and very clearly not noticing the rapidly approaching earth ghoul. Cinis hadn't noticed Moss either. Lucian just didn't care to warn August. Lucian slowly dragged Cinis back from August, much to both of their confusion. And then, just then, did cinis see Moss lunging forward from behind the baffled ice ghoul.

WHAM

August yelped as a body collided with his back and he was push forward. Next thing he knew, he was face down in the snow, splattered like a bug on a windshield, and a proud Moss sitting on his back and pressing his shoulder into the snow with their hands. "You FUCKER." He screeched as he flailed his arm and legs, scrambling for purchase, and his tail lashing out. He grabbed a handful of snow and flung it over his shoulder into Moss' face. They sputtered and wiped their face of the cold assault, being quickly bucked off into the snow. August got up and quickly took off. Gathering snow in his hands to make snowballs. Moss gathered himself and did the same.

It's wasn't just a snowball fight. It was a fucking war. There were ghouls, siblings, clergy members, even a papa or two got caught in the crossfire or even joined in on the battle. There were casualties. There were tears. There were injuries. There was loss and triumph. And so,,, so much snow in places snow should never be. After about two hours of waging snow war, all parties were tired, cold, and soaked to the bone.

Everyone piled back into the main buildings to get back into warm dry clothes and thaw out in front of a fireplace. After shucking off cold clothes and getting into pajamas, Moss settled in front of the fireplace in the ghoul dens. They watched the flames intently, watching them flicker as he warmed his hands in front it. A jingling pulled his attention once again, but he didn't look away from the flames. A mug came down in front of their eyes and they took it graciously. Hot coco with the little marshmallows, thats cute. The mug warmed their hands nicely. They licked the marshmallows and letf the rest if the drink.. like a fucking heathen.. August sat down next to him, enjoying the warmth and the company.

Only one person fell into the frozen pond and not even one window was broken. Not too bad of a day off they'd say.

ITS DONE. IT SHOUKD NOT HAVE TAKEN ME THAG LONG SWEET LUCIFER.

MAWS AND SIN BOY IS @purble77 s

LUTE IS @graphitesnorter s

#drabbables #gonna have to draw a couple scenes from this #especially bw with the bells on his tail #and moss all bundled up #august ghoul #moss ghoul #luci ghoul

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laresearchette · 10 months

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Friday, August 04, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: EVA THE OWLET (Apple TV+) WITNESS TO MURDER (A&E Canada) 9:00pm WOMEN ON DEATH ROW (A&E Canada) 10:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? SECRET CELEBRITY RENOVATION (CBS Feed)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA THE LOST FLOWERS OF ALICE HART MAMBA’S DIAMOND WNBA: ATLANTA DREAM AT PHOENIX MERCURY

CBC GEM CHATEAU DIY (Season 6) HEY DUGGEE (Season 2)

CRAVE TV 65 BLIZZARD THE CHI (Season 6, Episode 1 *Season 6 Premiere) THE DISHWASHER EAST HARBOUR HEROES (Season 1) GOOD MORNING CHUCK (Season 1) THE JOURNALS OF KNUD RASMUSSEN MONKEY BEACH NATURAL BORN KILLERS ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST PACO RHYMES FOR YOUNG GHOULS SIMULANT SUPERBAD

DISNEY + STAR BULL SHARK BANDITS BULL SHARK VS. HAMMERHEAD THE RANDALL SCANDAL: LOVE, LOATHING, AND VANDERPUMP RETURN OF THE WHITE SHARK SAVED FROM A SHARK SHARK EAT SHARK

NETFLIX CANADA THE BIG NAILED IT BAKING CHALLENGE FATAL SEDUCTION (Volume 2)

ESPN THE OCHO!!!!! (TSN2) 1:00am: Stern Heads-Up Pinball Invitational 1:30am: USA Mullet Championships 2:00am: 2023 ACL Pro Shootout Championship 3:00am: Disc Golf Pro Tour Championship 4:00am: Marble Runs 4:30am: Financial Modeling World Championships 5:00am: 2023 Table Hockey World Championships 5:30am: Death Diving 6:00am: Teqball 6:30am: Auctioneer's Championship 7:00am: Microsoft Excel eSports: Elimination Race 7:30am: Truck and Tractor Pulling 8:00am: One Wheel World Championship 8:30 am: Arm Wrestling Reborn 9:00am: Extreme Axe & Knife Games 10:00am: Omegaball Women's Invitational 11:00am: Bullshooter 12:00pm: Omegaball Men's Invitational 1:00pm: Professional Cuesports League 2:00pm: Kickball Championship 3:00pm: The Ocho Show 4:00pm: 2023 Wiffleball All-Stars 5:00pm: Major League Table Tennis 6:00pm: Slippery Stairs 7:00pm: ACL World Championships 9:00pm: Viii Sports 10:00pm: Pillow Fighting Championship 11:00pm: 2023 FootGolf World Cup 11:30pm: Stein Holding Competition 12:00am: 2023 Corgi Races 12:30am: World Dog Surfing Championship 1:00am: Dodgeball All-Star Showcase 2:00am: 2023 Table Hockey World Championships 2:30am: Truck and Tractor Pulling

HLINKA GRETZKY CUP (TSN4) 1:00pm: Semifinal: Canada vs. United States (TSN5) 1:00pm: Semifinal: Czechia vs. Finland

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 2:00pm: Atlanta vs. Cubs (SN) 7:00pm: Jays vs. Red Sox (SN Now) 7:00pm: Mets vs. Orioles (TSN3/TSN5) 8:00pm: Rays vs. Astros (SN1) 9:30pm: Dodgers vs. Padres

CEBL BASKETBALL (TSN5) 7:00pm: East Play-In - Brampton Honey Badgers vs. Scarborough Shooting Stars (TSN5) 9:00pm: West Play-In - Edmonton Stingers vs. Winnipeg Sea Bears

LEAGUES CUP SOCCER (TSN3) 8:30pm: Round of 32: Chicago vs Club America (TSN3) 10:30pm: Round of 32: Monterey vs. Portland

LEGENDS VS. MODERN ICONS (Cottage Life) 8:00pm: The competition kicks off with a cage match between the Colosseum, the ancient world's top arena, and Wembley Stadium, the most expensive football venue ever built; a look at their architectural features and which one offers the best fan experience.

CFL FOOTBALL (TSN4) 9:00pm: Argos vs. Stamps

GIANT POP-UP CONSTRUCTIONS (Cottage Life) 9:00pm/10:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Workers gather in India to build a railway underpass in just five hours; they battle stifling heat and deadly obstacles to reconnect the tracks and ensure they're safe before the first scheduled train roars through.

STIMULANT (Crave) 9:00pm: A humanoid A.I.'s attempt at winning a grieving widow's heart puts it in the path of a government agent trying to stop the rise of machine consciousness.

NATURAL BORN KILLERS: DIRECTOR'S CUT (Starz Canada) 9:00pm: Two young lovers (Woody Harrelson, Juliette Lewis) embark on a blood-drenched killing spree that quickly propels them to celebrity status.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #legends vs. modern icons #the ocho #hockey #mlb baseball #cebl basketball #leagues cup #cfl football

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saintmeghanmarkle · 10 months

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offering to pay rent at a royal household & the Long War of Markle & Harry by u/ElectricalAd9212

offering to pay rent at a royal household & the Long War of Markle & Harry things have been coming out about how the couple would love to rent a royal property so they can live there. “He and Meghan are offering to rent an apartment at Kensington Palace and furnish it themselves. He hopes that will please William and show that they’re serious about coming back," the source said. ( link )The ghoul of Uvalde is a very shameless and sociopathic woman, and so is her husband, so of course we should say that this is par for the course for them.They wish to return to Britain and the monarchy because they are cornered and failing and on the road to bankruptcy in America.I have no doubt that this is them trying to PR their way back into contention.They will style themselves as innocents who are reaching out with an 'olive branch' that can make William appear cruel if he denies it, so they can play the victim.I want to speak about the Long War of Markle and Harry though.We don't need to repeat the list of evil things they have done, how they lied, abused and incited, for money. How they spat on the Queen and Prince Philip in their final years. Their psychopathic hatred of Catherine and William.My view is Markle will never divorce Harry because she knows she has nothing else. She's on the fast track to fifty years of age and any billionaire she may have dreamed of seducing will have younger, more beautiful and more intelligent options.The Long War they want is eternal PR games and self mythologising. The war is the identity and existence. Markle will be thinking of how to return to Britain and the monarchy. She wants an apartment in Kensington Palace. And what is the long war?The Long War is to destroy William and Catherine and earn money and power for themselves. To incite abuse, to leak, to conspire, to raise America and 'woke' Britain in her favour.But I believe what she has her eyes on is the children.When she visited Uvalde, I became unnerved. To see murdered children and view them as an opportunity for self promotion, Markle showed herself to be a psychopath without any moral basis or boundary. This is a woman who is capable of anything. That was a glimpse of scheming evil and most vile and base nature.So what is the long game?The Long Game for Markle and Harry is to destroy, hurt, harm, leak against, and incite against George, Charlotte and Louis.Returning to the fold of Kensington Palace will allow them proximity and status to leak against the royal family, to lay low, gather their plans, and seek to influence the children when they become adults through the same techniques they used against William and Catherine. Anonymous incitement online, inventing lies and rumours, decrying 'double standards', claiming her mixed race children are discriminated against, and doing everything, by snake like hissing, through her American media networks and social media mobs, to undermine, psychologically abuse George, Charlotte and Louis.That is their Long Game. Harry has already talked about William's children. In the Telegraph interview he said he 'worries' about them and William already told him his children are not his concern.Harry will in particular seek to influence Louis, and divide him from his brother and sister, to plant in his mind that he is the renegade 'spare', treated wrongly by family and media.But to Markle, the children are very much are her concern. She hates them and will see them as key to revenge.This is what I believe. The dark heart of the woman who fed on the blood of the children of Uvalde has no limits. post link: https://ift.tt/Y6Bzw83 author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: August 07, 2023 at 01:11PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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mask131 · 10 months

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Magic the Gathering: Limited Edition (Alpha)

Black cards (1)

The "Limited Edition (Alpha)" was the very first set of Magic the Gathering cards, released on August 1993. In other words, they were the very first MtG cards, and as a result you can appreciate in this quite simple and somehow alien "primitive deck" the "original" concept of the colors, unfolding themselves in a generic, unspecified medieval-fantasy setting.

Here is Black in its first and "original" form: a power of fear, nightmare and evil, all about causing madness, spreading plagues and draining lifeforce. A force served by liches, wraiths and assassins, able to raise up the deads as zombies, skeletons or ghouls, and that allows the practice of demonology by enslaving imps, invoking hellish hordes or signing deals with the devil.

#magic the gathering #limited edition #alpha #mtg #black cards

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hookedtheghoul · 1 year

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I posted 482 times in 2022

That's 482 more posts than 2021!

121 posts created (25%)

361 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rugletthewren

@graculuss

@fly-guys

@perhapswhoknowsvamp

@anditalltumblesdown

I tagged 467 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#danhausen - 173 posts

#aew lb - 97 posts

#aew hook - 68 posts

#hookhausen - 53 posts

#orange cassidy - 32 posts

#fic rec - 19 posts

#all elite sins - 17 posts

#best friends - 16 posts

#ethan page - 8 posts

#effy - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like sure but also... not a fan? what's the team's motive in that case? what makes them tick overall? would d be a natural extension of it?

My Top Posts in 2022:

Is this going to bite Hook in the ass? Probably.

Do I mind watching him put on a show? Absolutely not.

12 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

Sso. Was Danhausen’s curse Hook kicking Starks’ ass or Hobbs turning on him? Both?

13 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

That was Danhausen’s “evil” voice. Not that he usually threatens to rip people’s teeth out...

16 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

So, Danhausen’s latest mystery tweet is from a song called Devotion III by Foundation - from an album called Turncoat. Make of that what you will

26 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“We might get Evilhausen! But how?”

I’ll tell you how. First things first: This leans on Sonny The Jobber’s video The Dark Fathers Curse... Malakai Black Mist Theory (AEW). Watching it is not mandatory but still advised if you are not familiar with Malakai Black’s character or the black mist. Also yes. This will be a long one. Stretch a little, unclench your jaw, and top up your beverage of choice.

Danhausen, in all his adorkable glory, is a flawed character. He is very nice, very evil, and he has pointed out himself how he is very nice only because no one roots for someone who is just evil. And why does he want people to root for him? Danhausen’s main motivation is greed and his end goal is world domination through wealth. He is the – thinly disguised – embodiment of this cardinal sin.

(One day I will probably expand all this towards Hook, who could make a heel turn and become the cold-hearted handsome devil he’s described as – fun fact: the demon associated with the cardinal sin of pride? Lucifer.)

I couldn’t begin to explain the genius that is the character of Malakai Black, so at this point, if you haven’t already, watch Sonny the Jobber’s video linked in the beginning of this post. It goes into detail on how the character came to be and how it has evolved into what it is today. What I want to add to this theory is that not only is Black able to use the black mist, but the other House of Black members are capable of doing so as well, and it seems to retain its corrupting effect. From this we can gather that even now that Black himself is absent, the black mist can be utilized by the other members – it is clear that the House still exists without its leader.

As per Sonny The Jobber’s video, the effects of the black mist depend on the life one has led up to that point. While we can all agree that until now the modern version of Danhausen has been a relatively harmless comic relief character, there is a high chance the mist would still affect him. First of all, he is, or is possessed by, a demon. The exact nature of this demon is debatable – Danhausen refers to himself as a ghoul, but doesn’t present himself as such (they are known to feast on human flesh, and we haven’t seen evidence or even allusion to this). He also uses ghoul and demon interchangeably, and while ghouls are demon-like creatures, it is not clear whether or not they are truly the same. (I would love to pick Donovan’s brain on this one).

Secondly, there is an intriguing example of what the mist does to a person who has seemingly led a virtuous life before being exposed to it: Julia Hart. Sonny The Jobber points out that Hart may have been envious of the Varsity Blonds’ success versus her own role as a mere cheerleader for them (funnily enough, some of their attire during this time was green – the color heavily associated with envy). These negative feelings festering under the bubbly and preppy facade allowed Hart to turn heel and join the House of Black.

While Hart’s emotions and motivations were hidden, Danhausen is absolutely, unapologetically motivated by greed. All he does or says (or doesn’t say, such as swearing) stems from this. I would argue that even him becoming allies with Hook was motivated by greed: Danhausen started pestering him after “Send Hook” became a phenomenon. And while we can sit here and list reasons why them becoming a tag team, even if for a moment, was ultimately a good thing (Hook’s face turn and the chance to prove his skills to stop people from referring to him merely as Taz’s son, Danhausen’s fame, them beating the hell out of Tony Nese and Mark Sterling, etc.), there was a sinister hidden undertone to all of this from the beginning.

On May 12 on Twitter, after Hook shook his hand, Danhausen wrote: “Danhausen won”. We were intrigued by this for a moment, but did we ever actually stop and wonder “Won what? Won how? How much of this did he plan in advance and why?” No. Not for long, anyway, nor seriously enough. We were captured by the Hookhausen train (the best train, don’t @ me) and forgot Danhausen’s comment so fast it’s not even funny. His very nice persona had us fooled and made us forget that there even is the very evil. What was it that some of these wrestles have been saying? The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.

Danhausen has tried to rub shoulders with several stables throughout his run in the AEW, more or less successfully. He has also showed interest in the House of Black on Twitter as early as January this year. He must have realized by now that one does not simply walk into the House, nor do I personally think he would be as bold as to ask/demand them to mist him – or to become allies with them outright. If this is something he wants to happen, he would plan it very carefully to look like an accident.

Let me paint you a picture. September 23, Grand Slam, New York City. Darby Allin and Sting face the House of Black. This is supposed to be a two-on-two match, but Julia Hart will most likely be there as well. This puts the Allin and Sting in a precarious situation, as they have to split their focus between possibly three opponents instead of the guaranteed two. Enter the surprise, the wild card, the equalizer. Danhausen. Always ready to spread chaos wherever he goes. Assuming that cursing a member of the House would not work, he would settle for the next best distraction tactic: the groin punch. This would not end well for anyone else. But Danhausen, the (seemingly) bumbling idiot, would not register as a high-level threat on the House members’ radar, so their attack on him would be halfhearted at best. Whatever they do, Danhausen won’t like it. Even less so, if there are swears thrown around. So he would retaliate, which would cause whichever member of the House he is facing to shred him to pieces. Only this time Danhausen refuses to give up, lie down, and take it. He has been undermined, underappreciated, underbooked. He. Is. Done. And he takes it all out on the House who are at their wit’s end with this nuisance who has gone a full-on terrier-mode on them. It is, in a way… impressive? There could be some hidden potential laying dormant within this demon. If only they could unlock it and harness it. And they could...

I entertained another option before realizing how self-centered Danhausen actually is, but there is a chance it would not have worked. This option would have seen Danhausen sacrificing himself, pushing away someone (Hook? Orange Cassidy? Darby Allin?) about to get their eyes full of black mist. But would the mist be able to corrupt someone acting so selflessly? Perhaps – we have seen it work on people with a lot less negative baggage. But as long as we have no way of knowing the ins and outs of the black mist as well as Malakai Black, there is no telling whether or not this would work.

Looking at the stories AEW has told so far, I highly doubt they would ever make something of this caliber happen – especially with a character like Danhausen, who they don’t seem to realize the potential of. This is merely the way I would do it as a writer, if I wanted Danhausen to turn heel in a manner that would not only make sense in kayfabe but also have potential to grow into something bigger in the future. How could someone who is seemingly a minor player trick the House of Black? How would the friends Danhausen has made react? Has he even made friends, or has he only been using everyone around him?

(If TK or anyone working for the AEW ever reads this (as if, but one can dream): I’m available, and due to being an amateur, I’d be cheap, too. If you want high-impact story lines delving into human psyche and morality, hit me up. I can make painful things hurt even more!)

59 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

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delphoxqueen · 2 years

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Operetta’s Diary- Wave 3 (2011)

{Go to the bottom of the page to see the actual diary pages!}

This Diary Belongs to:

Operetta

You can’t play my guitars or read my diary so don’t ask.

Name: Operetta

School: Monster High

July the Twenty-fifth

Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures… if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us- which was clean outta fright- we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “youknowwho”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay- betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Brish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more than he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected : )

July the Twenty-seventh

How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and we’re headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short.

August the First

We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty Ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor… who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me- “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ; P

August the Seventh

I explored the catacombs a little more today. A Ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:

An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it.

A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High.

Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.

I also found, or I guess you should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like a part of the catacomb wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with your ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.

August the Eighteenth

Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I had my needed to get some new strings 🅇 I ended up at the Maul- they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me- I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars- nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad just hanging up on the wall all by their lonesome 🅇 I was just kinda picking a little bit a when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play a guitar before?” “Not like you,” she said. “Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She's got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do… hey… I said maybe didn’t I?

August the Twenty-fifth

Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me she had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monster legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a lot of things but I’m pretty sure it won’t be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet of music.

August the Thirty-first

Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that the sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine.

About Me

Name: Operetta

Age: 16… in phantom years

Monster Parent: The Phantom of the Opera

Killer Style: From the top of my horrid red victory roll hairdo to the souls in my shoes- don’t step on ‘em- I’m a high-octane rockabilly Phantom de force. I’ve also got this pitch perfect beauty mark that starts on my face and ends in ginchiest tat ever.

Freaky Flaw: I’m a bit of a diva and a perfectionist… okay more than a bit. Mostly it’s just about my music though which causes monsters to kinda lose their minds for a few days if they hear me sing live. My voice doesn’t have the same effect when you listen to it recorded.

Pet: Memphis “Daddy O” Longlegs is my pet spider. Course he’s not like any other spider you’ve ever seen unless you’ve seen one rocking a pompadour while playing a standup bass.

Favorite Activity: Playing music and singing. What else is there to unlife?

Biggest Pet Peeve: I don’t like being told what to do- guess I’m hardheaded that way.

Favorite School Subject: Music history. Can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve been.

Least Favorite School Subject: Mad Science. The only thing I want to create is music.

Favorite Color: Vintage Velvet Red

Favorite Food: Fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Thankyouverymuch.

BFF’s: Holt Hyde and Deuce Gorgon

#monster high dolls #monsterhigh #monster high #operetta #operetta x howleen #howleen wolf #monster high howleen #mhdiaries

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Hellsing Liveblog Afterward

So, this is just a place for me to toss in some other Hellsing stuff I wanted to talk about outside the reading of Hellsing itself.

Okay so first off, I wanted to document this cool trivia I noticed about Rip van Winkle, the werewolf(?) with the musket that fires magic bullets. Her weapon is based on the 19th Century German opera Der Freischütz. The opera is based on a story published by Johann August Apel in 1811, and this writing was based on German folklore. The legend involves a marksman who makes a contract with the devil and receives seven magic bullets. Six will hit whatever the marksman wants, but the seventh is at the sole discretion of the devil himself. In Hellsing, the Major speaks to Rip about her own musket and reminds her that the opera ends with Zamiel, the devil, coming to claim his due. This is intended to foreshadow Alucard counterattack on the H.M.S. Eagle, where he plows through Rip’s defenses and kills her in gruesome fashion.

So I went back and counted all the times Rip van Winkle shoots her musket, just to see if there was any special significant to it. The first was when the old Nazi officers complain to the Major, and Rip shoots the Colonel’s cane before he can strike the Major with it. At least, I’m pretty sure that was the idea here. The cane breaks and everyone looks around and Zorin points to the lady with the gun to indicate who just did that. So that’s one bullet.

After assuming control of the H.M.S. Eagle, Rip van Winkle meets with the Eagle’s first officer, who betrayed the crew to Millennium in exchange for vampire powers. She then betrays him and his fellow traitors, killing them all with a single shot from her musket. This is where we first find out what her ability is. So that’s two.

The British Navy tries to take back the ship by sending a helicopter full of SEALs, but Rip destroys the entire team with another shot from her musket. So that’s three shots fired.

While Hellsing prepares their own response, the Navy tries again, this time sending a fighter plane to sink the Eagle with missiles, but Rip shoots down the missiles and the plane with one bullet. Four.

This is where I started to wonder if there was a particular pattern to Rip’s use of the musket. I’m pretty sure she just uses one bullet and can fire it as many times as she pleases, but she was literally singing songs from the opera and it seemed kind of superfluous to have her foil two separate attack by the Navy. The first one showed us that conventional forces wouldn’t get the job done, so the second one only makes sense if Kouta Hirano was just trying to add to the count.

Then Alucard arrives aboard a modified SR-71 Blackbird. At 85,000 ft in the air, he’s out of range, but then he nosedives onto the deck of the ship. Rip fires again to destroy the Blackbird before it crashes into them. Five.

Alucard survives the crash and wipes out all of Rip’s soldiers while she has a panic attack. Cornered, she finally gathers her wits and attacks Alucard. Her bullet hurts him, but he eventually catches it in his teeth, neutralizing her weapon and leaving her at his mercy. That’s shot number six.

I was hoping this shot would be the seventh, since the seventh bullet in Der Freischütz belongs to the devil, and Alucard caught this one in his teeth, but no. Then I remembered that the musket gets fired one last time...

... in London, when Alucard releases the familiars of all the victims he’s consumed over the centuries, including Rip Van Winkle. She fires the musket once more, but this time it’s Alucard directing the shot into the helicopters of the Ninth Crusade. Shot number seven is at the discretion of the devil himself, and “Dracula” is a diminutive of “Dracul”, a Romanian word for “devil”. Neat stuff.

Okay, so now let’s talk about Seras, because that’s kind of my jam. What’s the deal with this line? “Her existence is somewhat of a marvel. You could say it’s somewhat of a joke. Perhaps she herself has not even noticed yet!!”

That’s the Major discussing Sir Integra and Seras in Volume 5. He stresses that neither is to be underestimates, and I think he makes a good case for Integra, but with Seras he never actually comes to the point. So what’s up with that?

Of course, there’s the truth we saw in the final battle. Once she finally drank blood of her own volition, Seras became a full-on vampire and one of the most powerful warriors on the field. She destroyed the Captain quite handily, and he was the strongest guy Millennium had. But this seems a tad obvious? Why not just spell it out for Zorin. “Hey, our intel says she’s weaker than expected because she won’t drink blood, but that could change at a moment’s notice, and she’s still strong enough to take down a lot of our soldiers, so proceed with caution.”

I’m not saying the Major is wrong. He told Zorin not to engage, and he made the right call. I’m just wondering what the “joke” is exactly.

I think it might be one of two things. By the end of Hellsing, Seras demonstrates a similar level of ability to Alucard. Sunlight appears to have no effect on her, she can summon familiars like Alucard, and regenerate her wounds with great alacrity. I’m pretty sure she’d be about as hard to kill as Alucard himself, which Integra said was a product of Hellsing “enhancements”, rather than natural vampire power. Except Seras was never “enhanced”, she seems to have just inherited these “super-vampire” powers from Alucard when he turned her. The Major and Doctor may have anticipated this, and the “joke” was that Seras could completely upset the balance of their plans, except she’s too squeamish to drink the blood that would make this possible.

Or, the joke might be that Alucard turned Seras at all. He just sort of did this out of nowhere, and I’m pretty sure no one saw that coming. Millennium and Walter had been keeping tabs on Hellsing for decades, and not much changed until Alucard decided to add Seras to the group. The vampires in Millennium’s Last Battalion were all produced through the Doctor’s artificial vampire research, which was based upon intense study of Mina Harker, the last person Alucard turned into a vampire before he met Seras.

So from that standpoint, Seras represents a superior version of Mina, who represents the ideal that the Doctor was trying to achieve. At best, his finest artificial vampires could only be as strong as Mina Harker, and Seras got that way in one night by a twist of fate.

I guess there’s no way to be sure what the Major meant. I checked the OVA subs and dubs and they basically repeat the same line, so there’s nothing for me to triangulate there. And maybe it only refers to Seras being a joke in the sense that she was mostly comic relief up to that point. Even that badass moment she had against Jan Valentine’s ghouls probably didn’t impress anyone at the Millennium office.

Finally, I checked out Hellsing: The Dawn, and it really wasn’t worth the trouble. I couldn’t find any official English release, so I sort of gave up on it, but I finally ran across it last week and decided to check it out.

Basically, it’s only six chapters, and very little actually gets done in those six chapters. I’m not sure if Kouta Hirano is just running super late on the thing, of if he abandoned it completely, but my guess is he got this far in and decided there really wasn’t any point in continuing.

Let me break it down for you.

Chapter 1: Walter is sent to the Major’s facility in Warsaw, to destroy the vampire research. He jumps out of a plane with Alucard’s coffin.

Chapter 2: The Doctor reports on his progress to the Major, and they briefly discuss “She” aka Mina Harker. From what I gather, Mina is still alive/undead in 1944. Then Walter crashes into their facility and declares his intentions to kill them all.

Chapter 3: The Major is impressed with Walter’s power and offers him a place in his command. Walter refuses and the Major leaves him to die at the hands of the Captain.

Chapter 4: Walter fights the Captain, and Alucard finally emerges from his coffin in Girlycard form.

Chapter 5: Walter and Alucard fight the Captain, who now stands revealed as a werewolf. The Major somehow recognizes Alucard on sight and takes an interest in observing the battle.

Chapter 6: Alucard leaves to go hunt down the Captain’s superiors, leaving Walter to fight alone. Alucard then encounters Rip van Winkle and defeats her with ease. He seems like he’s about to kill her when some menacing figures approach from the shadows...

In other words, not a whole lot actually happens that we couldn’t have guessed from the original Hellsing manga. At the rate he was going, it would have taken Hirano maybe 30 or 40 chapters to actually get to anything truly juicy, and I’m not sure the audience would have wanted to wait around for that. The main problem is that we already know how this ends. None of the good guys or bad guys die, because they all show up in Hellsing 55 years later. The Major will lose badly enough that he has to evacuate the whole operation to Brazil, and that interests me because somehow he has to lose this battle, but not so badly that he can’t escape.

What disappoints me is that there’s really only three things of interest about this part of the Hellsing mythos: Walter’s decision to betray England, Alucard’s relationship with Walter, and the Major’s relocation from Euope to South America. The Dawn appears to gloss over all of these. The Major asks Walter to switch sides in their very first encounter. Walter refuses, but we know he’ll say yes later, so there doesn’t feel like there’s any conflict to this. So far, Walter comes off like a little shithead, so if he changes his mind at the end of this story it’ll seem completely capricious. I’d like to think the Major could say something persuasive to convince him, or Alucard could piss Walter off enough to push him into the Major’s arms, but none of that seems to be happening.

The Girlycard form is taken completely for granted. Al shows up and Walter immediately takes offense. He knows Alucard doesn’t normally look like this and he sees no reason for this new look. Al just says the same thing he says about it in 1999, that form and appearance mean nothing to him. Well if it doesn’t mean anything to Alucard or Walter, what’s the point?

The way I always imagined it, the Girlycard form had a lot of emotional baggage for Walter. I figured he met Alucard in this form, and they spent some time together hunting down the Major. Walter fell in love with Girlycard, even though he should have known better, and when Alucard finally abandoned the form, he knew that there was no way his feelings would ever be returned. And this would build resentment within Walter, making him more interested in joining the Major.

Instead, none of that seems to be happening. This is just one big long fight in one building. Hirano already threw his biggest gun at Walter, so there’s no buildup to the Captain. Alucard won’t fight the Captain, but it’s unclear what else he’s supposed to do instead. There might be a good story in all of this, but these first six chapters don’t encourage me. Also, they keep jumping over to check in on Arthur Hellsing in London. I don’t think this guy is Integra’s father, but maybe her grandfather had the same first name? He looks cool, but he has nothing to do. He’s like thousands of miles removed from the action, so anything he says or does just comes back to him talking about how tough and cool Walter is. So yeah, I think The Dawn is a huge waste of time, and maybe Kouta Hirano reached the same conclusion.

And... yeah, that’s all I’ve got. In May, I’ll be liveblogging another comic. Will it be as successful? Only time will tell...

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #hellsing: the dawn #alucard #rip van winkle #seras victoria #walter c dornez

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

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coming back was a mistake

the reader bonds with kai over their shared dislike of mystic falls

kai parker x fem!reader

word count: 2494

warnings: language, the POV’s are changing

music: poa alpina by biosphere

This damn hole hasn’t changed a bit. The same old story: clean, tongue-licked glowing welcome sign. There we go. Then there will be this turn on the left... oh no, wait, bless, the road has been destroyed. The wooden white bridge connects this part of the highway with the town, and here we go. First houses, Livingstones used to live here, and their son was bullied by literally everyone at school, because he always had stupid haircuts. Word is, he’s dead. Welcome to Mystic Falls, the town where normal people can last up to one year.

Your house was still standing on the 19th November Street, cuddled by dry rose bushes. Apalling. All the other houses on the street have it together. The window sills are freshly painted and the porch is clean, the flowers are watered and cut, and then there’s this fucking outrage of a dwelling where the remains of your family reside.

You had to keep your act together but this town just infuriated you. You couldn’t understand why people would stay here when they could leave right after they’ve turned of age. What kept them? The charming crab-shaped park where everybody stored their dead bodies? The library on the main square where the entitled old lady has been residing for the last 500 years and telling you off for breathing? The blood-red clock tower dinging and donging every damn twenty minutes. No, wait, it must be the staggering fifteen streets. It must be the magic of running into your parents on the Market Street at ten am when you’re supposed to be at school. It’s the neighbors watch, the bored, jaded people’s desire to know everything about everybody. It must be all the supernatural jerks swarming here, killing everybody left and right, acting like their collective age is twenty years old. The fashion in this city has not changed since two thousand and thirteen, either. Nothing did.

The blood-red clock tower was still announcing the midnight hour through the dense hot air, the cars were still disgustingly clean like the citizens had nothing else to do except wash their cars all day long; Damon Salvatore still had the bitch expression on his face, fuming over the next this-just-in ghoul drama, pacing slowly in the living room of his ridiculous, always half-lit mansion with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Stefan was still miserable. Elena’s hair was still golden-black, smooth like a mirror, and you were still mortally tired of all this.

You could feel your negativity fill you up to your throat and eating on you as you drove up to the house and looked at it. The light was on, but nobody came out to meet you.

You were still coming once a year.

You sighed and turned off the engine, then left the car. It’s just a week. Then you can come back home and start pretending you don’t have Mystic Falls past again. The thought of going back home, running back like a rabbit, was what got you through every year.

You walked up the porch. The door wasn’t locked.

He liked this space here. The tenth row, seventeenth seat. He was like a cat, choosing the perfect spot. From here, he could see the clearing between the trees on the other side of the field, where a lady was walking her adorable huskie every evening at eight sharp. The dog was damn smart and the lady wasn’t. Kai had no idea how smart she actually was, she just didn’t look smart. The field below was empty now that it was summer and the eerie hollow feeling gave him a lot of kicks. The place that’s supposed to be full of people, literally made for big gatherings, the seats and all, empty, gave a special vibe. Looking around it, especially at the evening hour, when August was doing its best in the skies, was strangely nice. Nobody saw this side of Kai Parker when he was just sitting quietly, an expression of satisfaction on his face, on his chosen spot, and observed this quiet empty place like a little black king.

He saw somebody and went invisible in a second out of some instinct he couldn’t explain. It’s been some time since his presence caused an outcry of anguish among the party of people... a lot of time, actually. Nowadays, people would just roll their eyes. Don’t care. They’re the losers, living in this boring swamp, fidgeting with their pathetic drama every day. Kai didn’t know how they managed to tolerate themselves. And the hair! Everybody had this inexplicably perfect hair, glistening like they all wore wigs.

Oh my god.

What if they all wear wigs?!

Kai started giggling, thinking about that.

He was now looking at this girl in a crop top that matched the color of her skin. The girls do that, they wear the tops that match their skin which Kai finds very suggestive. Okay, you have all my attention.

Cruising around this unbearable place, he has familiarized with all the faces, and this one was new right away. She started running. You know how people usually jog, without a hurry, with the dumb light-hearted expressions on their faces, and the 90% of them always imagine they’re in some expensive automobile commercial. It helps them jof. This one ran. She did two tours around the field and stopped. Wrong, you’re supposed to walk or else your heart will burst. She stood, her hands on her thighs, her face up, and watched the sky. Kai had no idea why he was hiding from her, but he felt too comfortable now to manifest himself. She was listening to her music in her earphones and looking at the slowly drifting long clouds, and she looked like she was either pissed or very thirsty. Leaning a bit backwards, she just gave him the honors. The ribs were heaving, her stomach breathing for her. Her hand came up to her throat. Kai tried to picture her at the Mystic Grill, or on the main square; whether she looked similar to anybody he’s seen here; he looked at her hands and arms, the way she moved her jaw as if those pretty lilac clouds have done something to her and she was about to get even. She shook her head animalistically, getting rid of some thought. Girl, I know that. You’re trying to shake them all off through your ears, it doesn’t work. He felt for this pretty, collected lady who ran around the track like she was chasing somebody for a murder. Kai liked that kind of interaction the most; when he pretended they had connected. That they had a conversation. When nobody could argue with his illusion they had something in common.

He liked how she had her hair, a bit messy but feminine; the way she looked around dispassionately like she’s had enough of whatever shit she had going on. Like she seemed as if she was a separate entity. Her elbow pointed aside, with some kind of expectation.

Then she gave up. She put on a hoodie she’d thrown onto a first row seat and started walking up slowly. One, two three... four rows... Kai watched her curiously. He never doubted his magic. That’s right, not ever. You know.

But when she passed row nine he tilted his head. She came up to his row and started walking. Now, if she sits right on him, she will feel it. He will, too, and of course he won’t mind, but the girls usually freak out if they try to take a seat somewhere and there’s an invisible dude. Not that Kai had practiced it a lot. He just knew they didn’t like being stalked on. He didn’t really care. He doesn’t know her. If she’s a part of this town, screw her. She’s pretty up close, though, such a nice, frowning face, big eyes. She took the next seat to him and they almost rubbed shoulders. If she took off her earphones she would hear Kai breathe next to her. Instead, he was listening to slow ambient. It went well with the evening sky.

Together, they watched the huskie and the lady run around in the field behind the footbal field. Then she shivered a little in her hoodie. Kai wished he could read her mind when she started crying. When people don’t know they’re being watched, they cry in a very specific fashion. Kai was sure it wasn’t the huskie that upset her; it had something to do with her standing and watching the sky, rubbing her elbows with nervous fingers.

Or maybe she was unhappy with her running time, who gives a fuck.

You were watching this dude. The Grill did not appreciate him the way they should’ve. First of all, he was different breed. People come and go, but the type is always the same. This one was not the type. You had no idea who he was, but he was damn entertaining. Unapologetic singer. Stretching the notes like nobody was watching. Singing for the soul. He enjoyed himself the harder the more confused people looked, throwing awkward glances in his direction. His self esteem was on point as he expressed the ultimate artistic freedom through his bad singing, skipping the words masterfully and changing the melody on a whim. When the song was finally over, nobody clapped, and you felt that truly, he was the underrated artist, the local gem. Where Mystic Falls citizens cared for how others perceive them, he didn’t give a shit about it; while they side eyed their friends judging him silently, he was glowing with self-satisfaction. He was a bad singer, and a bad dancer; he chose an old song nobody knew, and did the finger guns at the DJ as he left the stage. A collective sigh of relief shuddered over the bar; you leaned over the counter, and the bartender nodded at you.

“Pass a cider to that guy. Tell him he saved my evening”.

Jerry was the name of the bartender. He was the new guy, because almost all bar people at the Grill were always human, which meant they died all the time. They all looked exactly the same though, and Jerry was no different from Evan, from seven years ago. Short dark hair, dimples, could star in American Pie. He smirked and nodded again.

The guy has just landed at the counter with a swing. He sighed happily as Jerry put the glass in front of him. You weren’t watching, because you didn’t feel like it; you made the sincere gesture of friendliness, no need to take it further. However, you should’ve known what would happen next. No good deed ever goes unpunished in this world.

You spotted him with the corner of your eye as he approached you, with the cider you ordered for him, and sat next to you.

“Well, that’s not too bad at all...” he started.

You turned to the guy - who looked rather like a boy who got stuck in his post-teenage phase - sharply.

“Please, don’t take it personal. It was not intended that way. It’s just a drink, so, drink it”.

For a second, he just watched you, as if challenging you for more talking. Then he shrugged.

“Somebody’s feeling antisociable today”.

And sipped a little from the glass.

“I usually take cocktails, the sweeter the better, just so you know”.

You sighed. A part of you knew you would regret it. But you still did it. Why? You looked in front of you, meeting your own miserable face in the reflection of the mirror wall behind the bar. The guy kept talking.

“I mean, it’s so nice to start acquiring the fan base, I guess, you can get a lot of things as a rock star. I’ve always wanted to be one”.

“You won’t be a rock star for your singing voice”, you noted.

Drinking alone at the Grill sometimes made you do weird stuff. But it was a tradition.

“Huh? You didn’t like it?”

“I enjoyed how much it confused everybody else”.

The guy expressed an ‘oof’ emotion.

“I’m sensing some xenophobia here. You hate this place, too?”

You didn’t answer. The guy sighed mockingly, as if he was pretending. He sounded like a hyperactive child, and in spite of your very self, you found him relatable.

“I say to myself every day”, he went on, in a slightly more serious voice, “Kai, today you’re leaving Mystic Falls. I’m not in the place where I can tolerate this boredom any more, you know? But this thing... keeps me here. I can’t wait to...”

You blinked and looked at him.

“Kai? Your name is Kai?”

“Uh, yeah”.

He clincked his glass on yours.

“Cheers”.

“What’s it short for?”

He didn’t look too proud saying,

“Malachai”.

You dropped your jaw.

“That is the coolest name I’ve ever heard. Malachai? Seriously?”

He lit up a little bit, straightening his back with praise.

“Yeah”.

“Dude, this is badass. Show me your ID!”

His dark eyes were laughing. You finally took a proper look of him. There was something foreign about him although he spoke very clear American English. It was a different kind of foreign: alien. Given it’s Mystic Falls, stagnating in its own revolving old routine, alien was good even if it was dangerous.

“You wanna see my ID?” he chuckled. He looked down on you with an adoring glint in his eye as though he was admiring something he saw. His reactions were inexplicable.

“Yeah, I wanna see how it’s spelt. Come on, Malachai, it’s so boring here. Show me”.

He sniffed through his nose.

“Okay”.

He had to stand up a little bit to take his ID from the back pocket of his jeans. You looked at it, visualizing his unusual name. Malachai Parker sounded fucking elite. He’s come a long way from Oregon, too. You wondered what he was doing here and was about to ask, but your glance got hooked on the year of birth.

“1972? You were born in...”

Frustration filled you slowly like lake water. Of course, the only interesting, good-looking character who’s fun enough, will be one of the messy freaks, here. You passed the card back to him.

“Are you one of them?”

Malachai didn’t look confused or insecure which further advanced your disappointment.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin, playing with you.

“I’m not having this tonight”.

You downed your glass, feeling earthly tired. Like the earth. The Earth, that’s billion of years old, like that.

You stood up to walk away.

“I’m not one of the vampires”, Kai chanted, turning on his seat.

You shrugged.

“Even worse”.

He watched you as you went, his eyes not leaving your back until you were out of the door. Then he realized he still didn’t have your name.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries

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dise7se · 4 years

Text

threshold

by: @spideysforce (7k)

rating: general/teen and up audiences

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, peter parker & mj & johnny storm & gwen stacy

characters: peter parker, tony stark, michelle jones, johnny storm, gwen stacy, & ned leeds

summary:

peter: 17, a little shit camper, teenager, about to leave for college and it’s the end of summer

tony: a tired, 27 year old man, turns into a teeangers dad

buzzfeed unsolved au, a msyterious warehouse at summer camp, and found family

leave comments and kudos on ao3

When Peter first got to camp, it was tortuous. It felt like aunt May was sending him for some kiddie math camp, for fuck’s sake, he was 17.

Stark Camp was an elite stem camp, only the brightest minds arrived here, no matter what their demographic, income, or social status. He applied, or was forced to apply by May, to work on robotics projects whilst there. To Peter’s absolute horror, whoever this billionaire trust-fund guy Stark was, was his camp counselor.

His fucking camp counselor.

Peter heard about the first summer camp session, he was participating in the second, which started at the beginning of August. His friends came back home to Queens from Stark camp, a ghost rattling in the old shell of their bodies, their soulless eyes begging for reprieve, the dark circles under their eyes indicating their primal instinct for victory in the camp competitions, to impress the mysterious genius billionaire they so desperately wanted to rob.

He spent the entirety of the summer trying to escape the camp, it was like everyday Mr. Stark (no, he won’t call him anything else,) targeted him only, saw some sort of promise in him, but he’d merely point to his friends and take the burden of being recognized off of him. May’s math camp. No. He can’t be noticed here, because maybe they’ll start talking about college, and how to prepare for college. Yuck.

Not that Peter was avoiding going to college, of course he’s applying. But it’s summer. His last summer before college, he needs to go out with a bang. Not some nerd camp in upstate New York. At least MJ is here. He’s 99% sure she joined to make fun of everyone’s projects, be condescending, and cause as many issues as she can while simultaneously keeping productivity to the bare minimum by scaring everyone. Yeah, that’s MJ right there.

He peeked back at her from over his shoulder and away from his robotics equipment during their scheduled tech building time, she sat at the table behind him to talk to the group about, 10 minutes ago, Peter forgot while he secretly executed Plan Ghouls, (yes MJ named it), while Tony oversaw everyone in the recreation center at camp, and maybe it’s because the Stark family is fucking rich they don’t deserve any money at all, this building looks way too nice to be here.

It was like Tony Stark, this billionaire who is barely even 30 years old, was fucking with him, Peter Parker personally. Did he enjoy tormenting his group? He acted warily around MJ, like finding a wire in a maze leading to a fuse. He’d never seen anything more glorious; a nearly thirty year old man scared of a 17 year old. Peter analyzed the older man and concluded that he is an eight year old with the wisdom of an eighty year old.

Ned promised he’d call every single day of camp, and Peter thought he’d actually die without his best friend at camp, disintegrate on the spot like some formidable being pulling apart every atom, until he’s lost in the atmosphere, drifting away like he never existed. He missed his best friend, okay? Who else would he talk to about.. the thing, his weird spider senses, and possible crime he could stop from 100 miles away from Queens.

His guy on the computer had other plans for the end of the summer, his family was going to visit their cousins that Ned conveniently was ecstatic to go on, leaving Peter to rot and die alone in summer camp. A haunted summer camp.

Peter snuck another entire circuit board into his pocket. Morally, this is very wrong. He reprimands himself over it. But, technically, he paid for this with his camp fee?

He uses less equipment for his actual projects than.. their secret project. He will use the same amount of equipment, just one is not prohibited because he technically can’t make secret projects on the side that may or may not pertain to the spooky warehouse half a mile out that Tony Stark refuses to comment on.

“Hey!” MJ yells right beside his ear, and he fumbles the lego pieces he contemplated taking in his hands and screeches. She laughs, holding her side, “Did I scare you?”

Peter plasters the best glare he can on his face, “No, you didn’t, I just yawned.” She will not win, whatever contest she made up in her head for the…. ghost catching competition, he will be two steps ahead of her and he will win. No matter how many horror movies they watch, and no matter how scared he is of her when she has no reaction except for laughter during their movie nights in the woods at night with the rest of the camp.

Countdown to Plan Ghoul’s execution: 3 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes.

—

They became acquainted with the weird, annoying show-off Johnny the second week of camp. So, last week. Peter wouldn’t call Johnny his friend, maybe not even acquaintance, but Johnny wears ugly cargo pants and stuffs them with extra robotics lab equipment like beakers, (what the fuck do they need beakers for?), and somehow stuffed a Kit in his shirt. He’s sure Johnny is going to forget and sit down with a beaker in his pants and break his ass with glass.

MJ was the first to initiate the alliance at the beginning of camp. They’ve been here for the second half of their summer, so of course she devised a devious plan.

They both hated Johnny at first, and that is exactly why Peter watched MJ reel Johnny into their plans once they’re in the Stark Camp Lab. MJ acted dryly and sarcastically around everyone she hated, drawing her to Johnny and Peter suffered the consequences. Peter lost count of the amount of times Johnny showed off his projects to the camp counselors, not long after stealing parts from a group nearby. MJ watched, intrigued, and Peter would always end up with his head down on his desk. And MJ would follow suit with Tony’s back to them, she would gather up all of Johnny’s wrenches, bolts, his keychain, and he’s pretty sure she got an arm of the collaborative robot in the corner.

And then the next dewy morning, the humidity was too thick and their eyes were unable to open from the night before because Tony told a story about a demon coming to life at the campfire, it’s real Tony has totally seen it, MJ and Peter were on breakfast duty with the camp counselors. The smell of tinder reeked on their flannels, but Tony pulled out the chocolate chips the moment he arrived, the other camp counselors shot glares at him. Peter had to turn away to hide his snicker.

This is when they met Gwen. She was part of another camp counselors group, and the two of them had their hair done, Gwen had cool piercings, even one on her face, with a vinyl knapsack by her feet full of patches. Her camp counselor has an itinerary, and oh, my god, it’s laminated, and Peter’s eyes widen and he thinks his pupils turned into the shape of hearts. The last time he saw an itinerary and Tony did not lose them while hiking was the first day of camp. Gwen’s camp counselor, Jen, even brought snacks for all of them.

MJ propped herself up on a nearby table in the kitchen and Tony rambled on about how his father never sent him to camp, and if he knew he’d practically be a boy scout out here in the woods he might’ve considered it. Peter thinks he heard the man say he was working towards his bachelor degree at their age. What a weird guy.

Johnny walked in, and Jen, the cool camp counselor reads out his last name and it’s Storm?! Peter imagines Johnny is the type of guy to steal his hypothetical sister’s toys and bury them in his suburban backyard and blame it on ghosts, and of course he tells MJ this theory.

MJ flips pancakes on the stoves, the hiss of the pancake mix to heat loud enough to drown out her inconspicuous whispers Peter nearly drops his spatula from her blaring whisper, “I sketched a prototype and stole Tony’s pencil. Our first prototype is called the Poltergeist Machine.”

He lowers his shoulders and sends his best glare, snarling and pointing with his head at Tony who is two feet away and yelling at someone on the phone about the physics kit they needed for today. “Are you crazy?! Also, that’s the ugliest name I’ve ever heard.”

MJ snarls back and throws her arms up, “Okay, well maybe names are not my forte!” And when Peter mumbled maybe under his breath, he really did know from a sixth sense that her shove was coming. And his shoulder nudges into something, and ouchie, that hurt, and it’s fucking Tony, off the phone and staring at them with his eyebrow quirk. Peter thinks he practices it in the mirror every night before bed, like brushing his teeth. He does it every day. He had never seen the man’s reaction into Peter physically bumping into him, though they did like messing with him. He was their counselor, they were bound to test his boundaries to see how much it would take to get in trouble, they’re sweet teenagers and not heathens.

Tony did nothing, and awkwardly shoved him away when Peter just stared and gawked at him.

Johnny and Gwen talked about college with Tony, who stayed on his phone and muttering, “Yeah, kids, you’ll get in,” and, “sure, yeah, we can work out a letter of rec,” and Peter pondered over his inability to plan more than three minutes ahead and felt a drop low in his stomach, because in two weeks he’d be beginning his college applications for senior year.

He and Ned had their own college plan, to keep his guy in the chair nearby while he could vigilante his college town and get a physics degree. Ned gravitated toward an engineering degree or a journalism degree, he’d probably double major. That was the best plan they’ve made so far. This, and their plan ghoul, Ned had sent cryptic messages about the nearby warehouse being abandoned and never showing up on maps online. Ned had yelled very loudly over the phone to be careful because this might require Spider-Manning, and Peter yelled over his voice so nobody else could hear.

Johnny had glared at him from ten feet away in the field during that phone call and walked away.

And he looked at him the same way now. This little shit. I will get into college. Maybe I’ll get my own Tony letter of rec without showing off.

Peter knows what’s going to happen next when he turns to stomp away, his foot caught in the strap of MJ’s backpack she left thrown on the floor and sends him skidding. Geez. He hears metal clanking, and what the fuck, did he knock over a table or something? And MJ throws herself towards her backpack before his brain can connect her actions to conclusion, and there’s a robot hand skidding across the floor the same, resigned way he did.

The robot hand. The fucking robotic hand.

They’d have to face Mr. Stark’s wrath, and he feels like he’s entered Hell, forget the commandment and We should fear and love God so we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him and he hears the robotic and smash into the table and break, and Tony lunges at it like it’s some family heirloom that he intentionally broke.

“MJ!” He squeaks, like he hasn’t been through puberty and is nearly an adult. Johnny’s mouth falls open and he tugs on Gwen’s sleeve as if everybody here to cook breakfast wasn’t staring in awe, and he hears war cries from MJ demanding whoever planted these supplies come forward and reveal themselves or she’d send a witch to curse them.

It was like a 1995 school drama show, the pancakes burning on the stove and the unamused camp counselors fiddle with the ends of their shirts and Tony stares at the sight of devastation and MJ sheepishly smiles. Gwen is the first to break the silence, she snorts unattractively and covers her face. “Sorry. That was a little funny.”

Tony merely zeroed in his gaze on the two of them, hovering over them though he wasn’t much taller, attempting to humble them with his menacing face. He points two fingers at his eyes in the I’m watching you way, signaling his two fingers back to them. It’s not like they hadn’t witnessed Tony the day before steal the flags for their ‘capture the flag’ game because they kept losing.

Stem camp was camp, Peter woke up scrambled every day, usually covering his face from the morning sun when Tony would pound on the door and swing it open and let the morning sun blind him. He isn’t sure how he woke up MJ, but he always waits 15 minutes after he wakes up Peter, and he thinks he hears gentle knocks and a little, “Good morning!” before he takes off to begin his day with way too much caffeine and energy.

Tony, in all his glory, is a hot mess and begs his supervisor to let him join the kids’ activities, and she usually says no but he jumps into the lake, anyways, yelling at MJ and Peter to use life vests. The camp supervisor, Virginia Potts, is usually in leggings and a t-shirt or tank top, her strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail, and always has her clipboard in her arms with tidied stacks of paper. She is always smiling, is modulated and soothing, like honey in a comb in the sun. Whenever Peter runs into her, he immediately straightens his back and wonders if its worth borrowing the robotics equipment before they put it back for plan ghoul.

Pepper usually stands at the edge of the lake, a fixed gaze set on a floating Tony, her tin tucked in and her hip out. The first time Tony decided to ditch his camp counselor duties and join in with them and was approached by Pepper, he waved to her from the top of a rock enthusiastically. “Tony!” she exclaimed and everything she lectured him about seemed to go in one ear and come out the other.

“What is the number one rule of being a camp counselor, Mr. Stark?” Pepper had asked, while Tony striked Peter with a toy lightsaber they built that afternoon, and he nearly doubled over but was grabbed by the shoulders and held up by the menace in question. The weight of the saber wasn’t very heavy and it was made up of plastic, but Peter yanks the cool metal sword from his counselor’s arm. He’s never had any siblings and doesn’t know if Tony has either, but talking about baseball and college and physics having someone surprisingly grounding and comforting when he wandered off while hiking and busted his knee, for some reason Tony was good at first-aid.

“We totally deserve a team pet!” Peter huffed at the campfire, their group settling in after a round of night zip-lining.

“For God’s sake, we will not adopt a stray racoon for the team,” Tony yells from inside the cabin, bringing his stash of s’mores supplies he kept hidden and possibly explains the ants on the premise and not secured in the kitchen. “A mascot, maybe.”

“Please, this is Cranberry Lake, we do not need a pet to keep us from the ghosts,” Gwen declares, and before she can continue Peter screeches.

“So, you do admit there are ghosts!”

Tony shivers dramatically once he rejoins the group in front of the campfire and the fire crackles in his face. Peter gasps, and Tony turns in worry, fearing the fucking kid is fucking asphysxiating. “You see! Tony just shivered when you mentioned the ghosts.” “Lowering your voice won’t do anything, you dipshit!” Johnny unnecessarily adds, getting tossed by a marshmallow and being directed into the direction of the nearby trees to sit in timeout by the all-knowing being Tony who declared if they cussed anymore they’d be sent to timeout, the Goddamned Almighty.

“One more bad word out of you guys and next time you’re going to watch me swim in the lake, using all of your floaties while you watch from the dirt, wallowing in your own despair.”

“Can I go back to Jen’s group?”

“Absolutely not. You three are keeping me alive at camp as it is,” Tony informs them as if they hadn’t noticed the man was really an 8 year old in an adult’s body. “Even Pepper agreed. She says my campers keep me alive.”

Tony floats on his back in the outdoor pool, the cold water reflects the sun and Peter floats nearby on a yellow inflatable pool float with printed dandelions on it.

His friends chatter nearby, but his head leaning against the plastic floaty drowns the sound out. He hears his inner ear and hates it. Tony grunts, moving to grab his glass with juice and a small umbrella in it. This billionaire, the head of a company producing the world’s greatest and innovative technology was ridiculous.

“Queens is..” Peter starts their conversation again, afraid he’s too quiet and the older man didn’t hear him. “Queens is my home. May and Ben raised me there, and being away from it sucks. I can’t be there to help.”

MJ sits at the other end of the pool on the hot cement, gasping when she lowers her legs in. She sounds too far away to them, in their own little corner. He raises his head to see if Tony had even heard him, but he seemed sipped from his drink and hummed to himself.

He waited for an answer before he nearly blew his cover again.

“Hometown of Parker. On Long Island, Citi Field, and supposed home of a vigilante, I think,” Tony supplies an answer, and Peter thinks, shit, he knows, “Once, Spider-Man dropped a hot-dog on my head.”

Peter laughs, freely, and shit, act natural, Peter, because the older man that he trusts but can’t seem to get the words off his tongue, his identity reveal, he’s never wanted to tell anybody else. Ever. It was his responsibility, his alter-ego, but he trusts him, for some reason.

The earth aligned them together, and whatever brought them together doesn’t make any sense.

A mentor who understood him, who was a mere 10 years older than him, who had regrettably become friends with his Aunt May, and those two were forces in his life he wouldn’t know what to do without. Maybe that’s what happens when someone mentors you all summer and genuinely cares.

Tony was brilliant. Sure, him being here was confusing, but he wanted hands on experience in his company. Tony told them stories of the previous campers and which ones reminded Tony of them. When in the college application workshop the camp offered, he revised Peter’s papers and saw another piece of him on paper.

Tony Stark was caring, gentle, he was a walking encyclopedia, his skepticism had kept a barrier around him at the beginning of the summer, but slowly thawed out the more he lived. If words have had no weight his entire life, he’s owing it to every teenager here to keep his promises and Peter wonders if anyone has ever kept their promises to Tony. A glass barrier, built from sand and liquid and carefully molded to protect him and encase him.

Practically a kid when he lost his parents. Peter had read about it in the papers and saw news channels open every fragile wound on TV, and he remembers the news reporters surrounding Uncle Ben’s death.

He isn’t sure what else has the older man so guarded, but he knows they are slowly breaking the crystalline around him, his meddling heart wrapped around this camp and the brilliant minds. He knows Tony is good, past his cynicism is pure optimism, and is is an excessive coffee drinking, smells of motor oil and marshmallows, mentors anybody he can, and the damaged heart he hides, who makes special tech presents for the students, smudged ink on his hands from his blueprints, is good.

And Peter hopes he can model who he is after Tony. Spider-Man can strive to be someone like Tony, because the 27 year old understands what it means to invest in his community. And Queens is his home, he’s sure Tony will take care of it once he’s gone for college. Tony is human, he bleeds, he hurts, he doesn’t crack under pressure but quakes alone.

The man who emerges from the tech lab every morning at 6am because he forgot to sleep, yeah, that’s Peter’s mentor. How’d he get himself in this spot?

He turns back to Tony, “My uncle Ben used to tell me people are ugly, unlovable, they are their failures, but then they’d constantly prove him wrong. He wasn’t a pessimist, he was the opposite. But he saw the ugliness in New York, in Queens. But then he’d see sons hugging and kissing their mothers, he’d see local students building churches from scratch, and older siblings wiping their siblings’ tears when they played outside.”

Tony quirks a brow, but listens. He really listens, and he doesn’t know if he can finish. “He talked in constant epithets with our neighbors. Their gardens, his wisdom, and about how people always came together. Always.

“Maybe that’s who Spider-Man is trying to save, trying to represent in Queens. I think it’s what people like Ben would want to help. And I don’t want to leave, it’s my little sanctuary. This is the longest I’ve been away from Queens.”

Tony playfully flicked water towards Peter, who dodged it and splashed water back. He could be petulant, too. “I hope this spider-guy is watching over you in Queens. I know your Uncle Ben is. And I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but he really is. I remember my Ma used to visit me in my dreams at my worst times.

“I had no one to go to. My family was gone, and I wanted to do better. Be better. At my rock bottom, I was brought back up by my dad’s best friend. He stayed by my side since they died.. And when I found out he wanted to steal the company from me, I knew I could never let people like that taint more kids in the future in this field. In any field, really. I think I have a responsibility with this camp, and I know my mom would be proud of me. And I know your uncle will be proud, too, because I’ve got your back, too.”

The breath is knocked out of Peter, because oh fuck, this camp counselor who was unwilling to budge, had opened up and was vulnerable and was scared of being stabbed in the back but trusted him.

Tony cracks a smile, supine on his back over the water again in no time and drags the pool floaty with him after he kicks off the wall. They float over to the group, and the weight in Peter’s sternum subdues. An ache he forgot was there, learned to live with, and Tony’s words ring in his head the rest of the day. He tells May about it and never stops missing her.

Peter reached into his canvas duffle bag with the initials, ‘BFP,’ embroidered into it and found the white baseball jersey he last remembers seeing when he was twelve years old. His cabin is chilly today, so it must be cold outside. The sun hides behind the clouds so he shrugs a long sleeve shirt on, then the jersey.

They were going to play a game of baseball this morning, his muscles still aching from rock climbing and hiking the previous day. He was Spider-Man, he had a lot of endurance, but he hadn’t been exercising for a while. He missed feeling this; feeling fatigued but not from a night out as a vigilante. He and MJ climbed the rocks at least three separate times, their ropes clipped snugly to their bodies and Tony had reached the top to tie their ropes. They stupidly swung over the edges, dangling over the forest and had views of the lake. Johnny wasn’t scared of heights, but yelped every time his foot slipped and loose gravel jerked around him. Gwen swung back and forth, in a way that made Peter’s heart lurch when she kicked her feet off the rocks and threw her head back, lowering herself down.

It was an exhaustion that had a lightweight feeling to it.

He wasn’t dizzied from the adrenaline of catching a perpetrator in time, or whatever criminal of the night presented themselves in Queens.

Johnny had chased Peter, while rock climbing, and Peter felt genuine warmth for his friends. His best friends. They sent videos to Ned, Johnny and Gwen had been on a Facetime call with them the day before and declared whoever is friends with Peter, are their friends now. MJ shared her flannel, the one she wore around her waist once she noticed Peter’s calloused and cold hands when they brushed hands on the ropes. Gwen threatens to beat the shit out of Johnny if he bumps into her again, and once they reach the waterfall past the mounds of boulders they push each other in.

Tony had sat on the side, pretending that he didn’t have a camera strapped around his neck and two bundles of film gathered from the summer.

And seeing the initials on his dufflebag this morning, Peter wishes he could march into his home, what it was once before, and announce his future profession to Uncle Ben. Because he’s stuck. Ben Parker would laugh, reminding Peter he wasn't much of a scientist himself, yet they’d ponder over every possibility they could.

Ben, who smelled of cinnamon and coffee and New York, and Tony knocked on his cabin door before he could wrestle the baseball jersey on because the sight of it sent him reeling. Maybe May had accidentally packed it? Did she do this on purpose? They knew he would become homesick; he hasn’t left May’s for long. The longest he stayed away was for his DC trip in freshman year.

“Come in!” Peter calls.

“Hey, kid,” Tony opens the door, dressed in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, with bags under his eyes that he seems to have everyday. He looks young; but he can notice the signs of smile and worry lines around his young-adult face. “You’re late. The kiddos sent me to check on you. We’re all waiting.”

“Sorry, I just needed to get dressed--”

Peter cuts himself off, breathing in the baseball jersey while he slides it over his head. And it was a smell he hadn’t smelled in years. May was more of a nostalgic and sentimental person, and held onto Ben’s objects. They’d peer through photo albums together, and Peter would silently grief sometimes, but he was back at the Mets game Ben fought to buy tickets for and took to. The fresh air, the golden sun, Ben’s oversized hat covered Peter’s forehead and eyes. Ben was in every stitch of the material. His mind retrieved whatever image of Ben it could, and Peter couldn’t breathe.

“I--” His breath wavered and betrayed him, and Tony looked at him with a concerned face.

Peter can hear his phone buzzing with texts from Ned, probably responding to his breakdown over possible college majors he sent in a daze this morning when he saw an article about comets in their solar system, composed of water, dust, ice, and carbon monoxide. And he felt like one of those comets now, launched into the air with no destination and freefalling.

The jersey was his actual size now, and Johnny yelled from outside the cabin, “Pete, hurry up or you’ll be catching the whole game!” Tony stared back at Peter in concern, maybe he could see through him. He hadn’t hidden his teen angst that much this summer, maybe Tony still remembers teen angst. Hopefully he didn’t call him out over his childish brain losing it on a Saturday morning at camp. Was it homesickness? Tony probably only dealt with kid campers being homesick.

“Sorry, shoot, I just lost track of my sentence,’ Peter says and it comes out like a question.

He didn’t expect for Tony’s face to soften; the usual distant and withdrawn appearance is replaced with a small smile and a squeeze to his shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s play ball and possibly pop one of our shoulders out of our sockets by accident again.”

Peter snorted passed the burning tears threatening to spill, wiping them across his sleeve and noticed the man take a step back towards the door. “Yeah, right, ‘us.’ That was you, old man.”

Tony ducks his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and leaving a gap of space between them. He gives him a slight shove to the field, and Peter catches the ball in time before it strikes him in the face. Of course, that was MJ’s doing.

They played until Peter fell over on the floor, dust spreading in the air around him on the field and stinging his eyes. He definitely hurt his shoulder.

Tony had half the mind to chortle at him once he sat Peter up, already sending Gwen to grab an ice pack and the first aid kit. He couldn’t help it; he’s clumsy. His spider senses are quiet here, only arising once this entire summer: when Tony followed him, Johnny, Gwen, and MJ down the rocks and found Tony huddled on a narrow precipice clutching his chest. He had a distant look in his eyes; Peter thought he had recognized that look on himself before. He was out of breath and his face was pale. Gwen chimed in from behind, “Are we still canoeing later today? Or is today archery?”

And that was smart. Tony schooled his face, and he must have tons of practice if it came so easily. He wouldn’t have guessed Tony was working himself out of a panic attack if it weren’t for the paleness of his face, but Gwen’s questions were good. They were about fifty feet off the ground, and he had almost slipped. At least, that’s what he heard.

The quietness of his spider senses didn’t scare him. It should have, but it didn’t. Maybe it would soon enough. Johnny sits down on the other side of him, asking Peter to squeeze his hand if he needs to.

“Ah, shit, I promise it’s not that bad,” Peter says, already heading towards the nearest wall to reset his shoulder himself. He’s done this once before, thinks; once, there was an apartment building fire and he pulled out dozens of people, smoke fumes messing with his vision and chest. He had to reset his shoulder before pulling out a teeanger, grunting and pushing his arm against a nearby wall with the fire on his heels.

“Hey, kid,” Tony asserts, holding his hands up. “Can I? It hurts more if you do it. I can promise you that.”

Maybe it was because of being emotional over Ben’s baseball jersey, or missing May’s hugs and Ned’s hugs, meeting him by his locker every morning and how much he’ll miss them all for college that is a year away, was just stupid. And stupid over being upset over having to leave the nerdy stem camp and leave Tony behind.

It wasn’t fair for him to be attached. He was like a mentor, an older brother, just from the past month. It wasn’t fair for him to ask for advice constantly, but has a feeling this man was more than a camp counselor to their group. For fuck’s sake, he shed a tear in front of him and the man let him.

Peter nods to his answer, already ducking his head and inhaling a deep breath. “Good, yeah, deep breath. You’ve got the right idea,” Tony says, grabbing his shoulder. There’s a slight pop when Tony pushes, and Peter bites back his pain and tastes blood.

Tony holds onto his arm, and nods towards the rest of the concerned group, searching for any indication that Peter is okay. Gwen wipes a tear from his cheek, and he wonders what he would’ve done this summer without them. And what he’ll do if he doesn’t see them again. Maybe they’ll keep in touch, or apply to the same colleges. He didn’t want to lose them and the safety he felt with them.

“Okay, Peter, I told you for the millionth time, you connect the black wire to the circuit to get R2’s voice commands working,” Ned ordered the phone, and had given him, Johnny, MJ, and Gwen directions to the abandoned warehouse.

It was kind of Tony’s fault for demanding a nap and leaving the four of them with another camp counselor that wasn’t as competent as he was.Well, to call Tony competent is a bit of a stretch, his methods are nonchalant. Hence, MJ is in the corner reading them murder stories from the 1930s and remindingthem the ghosts still linger in the woods of upstate New York, right where they are.

“Yeah, yeah, MJ, the eighty-year old ghost is here to haunt us,” Peter mutters, ignoring Ned’s directions because he is totally wrong. “Ned, no. Absolutely not. What is this, LEGOs sensors?”

“Oh, my God, if you’re going to tell a joke then make it funny,” Johnny groans, “It looks like a UFO.”

“Fuck you, Johnny!” Peter yells, tossing a wrench and then deciding he shouldn’t have done that, and hoped Johnny ducks his head in time, “It’s not UFOs! It’s R2D2, you stupid piece of shit!”

Maybe Peter was a little unhinged today.

“Hey, ghost, knock this bookshelf down if you’re mad at us,” Gwen declares, drawing out her voice like she’s reading a ghost story to kids, “Or hold a candlestick in the middle of the room.”

The warehouse is small, it’s dark, and they use the sunlight as their lightsource. It was probably really stupid of them to break in, but this is it. Plan ghoul. And it’s the second to last night of camp, and they had vlogged the entire venture to the warehouse.

MJ had kept all the equipment they gathered from the summer. Either Tony was completely oblivious, unaware of his surroundings at all times and chose to ignore the lack of passion in their projects all summer for this, R2D2 and Johnny’s soccer laying robot, and Gwen’s killer robot obstacle course, or Tony didn’t care.

He was a billionaire. MJ still yells at the older man over his salary, but yesterday, he asked MJ to consult as an intern for his company and have input on the charity work the company participates in. And it was perfect for her. This was how they were wrapping their summer up; some of them receiving internships, letters of recommendation, and Peter stayed the same with the sick feeling in his stomach that he’d ruin his own life, or never be as far ahead as his peers.

“Peter, I have the same kit in front of me. I gave you these blueprints!” Ned yells into his ear, and Peter drops his phone and breaks off R2D2’s arm. Gwen laughs, pointing out how much uglier the robot is.

“Can your ugly R2 even fit in my obstacle course?” Gwen asks, playing robot soccer with Johnny. Their controllers are loud, they beep too much, and the obstacle course is ugly. It’s really not, but he’d never admit to his new best friend how beautiful the course is and he wishes he could shrink down and play in it.

“Ghouls!” MJ yells, fiddling with her tiny robotic sensor that he’s pretty sure is a tracker she’s been planting. He makes a mental note to check his things later before leaving camp.”My bot says Johnny is in first place!”

Their robots race across the obstacle course of the filthy warehouse, the sun’s going down so they placed flashlights around the room and the golden hour sun basked the room as it set on the horizon. The room was full of laughter, MJ’s ghost monitor with activity levels he can’t understand, and Gwen runs into their pseudo soccer field to knock R2D2 over.

They spent the rest of the night planning for college, planning to keep in touch, and devising another plan to take over Stark Industries once they all get jobs there. Peter knew he needed to go to college. He knew he couldn’t risk his family and friends and his identity.

They hear a crash outside, all of their movements hault. Peter doesn’t dare breathe, they all let their hearts pound in their chests. The sun had set by now, and Peter discreetly used his senses to listen and smell what, or who was outside. Gwen shows Peter her arm, the goosebumps set all over and she grabs the flashlight to use as a weapon. He’s impressed with her pose, but oh, shit, is it another camp goer? Did MJ fucking summon a ghoul?

Johnny shushes them, o-fucking-kay Johnny, shush the quiet group. Obnoxious. Peter blows out MJ’s candle, while she gets out her Poltergeist machine, where did she even keep it?

“Hide!”

The kids scatter, and MJ rambles through her theories of clues she’s found. “Is that a fucking bat?”

“Is it fucking Batman?”

“Peter, shut the fuck up!” Gwen chastises, elbowing him while they search for refuge behind the nearby bookcase full of dust and spiders. The shadow from outside looms, and the room is too dark to make out whoever kicks the door open.

The door was kicked open, and the group screamed. His brain clicked, his senses didn't go off.

It was fucking Tony.

Tony fucking Stark, with a casing of gold metal under his arm. And it’s his gold and red robot.

Let’s just say Tony dragged the four of them back to the camp after destroying their robots in robot-killer-soccer.

Tony does not know the impact he had on each teenagers’ lives. Maybe it was just Peter, and he was being sappy, but it was the last day of camp and the sun was setting and he was tired of the pinewood. It’d take him at least a week to get the smell of earth out of his clothes.

MJ shows affection, she hugs Gwen before they depart. Oh, God. They’re really gonna miss camp.

The summer is ending, case closed. Everybody’s packing their bags, and Peter’s pretty sure he will never recover from his scare during plan ghoul. Who would’ve known Tony had the same idea as them.

His friends, who wear his hats, who steal his food, and who wipe his tears are leaving. He has MJ. He has Ned.

Peter had set his flannel on fire but they put him out. It was really stupid.

Peter talked to Tony about Ben one night. He used metaphors, but he knew about Tony’s parents' loss in a car crash.

“Kid,” Tony says, pulling his attention away from the camp departures. Peter practically hopped on his toes of anticipation, walking closer to the older man. A father-figure? No. Older-brother figure? Maybe. Yes.

“You better work hard on your college applications, kid, because I’m going to need a student researching with me at MIT,” Tony smiles, kindly, and Peter blinked.

It still hadn’t set how much Tony believes in him. He knows he could be saying this out of kindness, out of pity maybe, but he had been the one to pull him from his reeling thoughts all summer long.

Tony had welcomed him in the threshold, their own threshold they built together, when Peter needed someone there, to take him in, and he continued to stay in once school began. This had been the place Peter spent half the summer in, did summer homework at the poolside with Tony’s help, he accidentally left candy wrappers in Tony’s cabin and left even more ants, and grew comfortable.

“Pete, when you go off to college, I’m not kidding, don’t forget to call,” Tony says, because Peter probably looks too intense right now and doesn’t know how to unweb himself from his comfortable cocoon of a summer, and he admires his camp counselor so much.

“I’m scared,” Peter breathes, and shit, his eyes well up. And Tony is there, the smell of coffee and some sweat, pulling him into a hug and he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Oh, kid,” Tony says, “Remember all the shitty advice I gave you. Do exactly what I wouldn’t do. And remind Aunt May I’m just a camp counselor and to stop yelling at me on the phone.”

Peter chuckles, because, oh God, knowing Tony and May, they’ll both team up to watch his back.

“I don’t want to let go of everyone here. I don’t want self pity, or anything, but like, this is the first time I felt like I’ve lived, as cheesy as that sounds,” Peter admits, wiping his sleeve.

Gwen is the first one to tackle the both of them, then Johnny, and Tony curses to the air. “Why did I become a camp counselor. The little boogers won’t leave me alone.”

“Stop lying, you know you came here for Pepper,” MJ snorts, “Old man.”

At the end of the summer, Peter is a teenage vigilante with a secret identity, but chose to relish in being a teeanger this summer. He was his grief or loss or anxiety, he was Peter Parker. And he wouldn’t ever just be Peter again. He thinks about what he wants, and he knows he wants them in his life. And Tony had given him this threshold, one that felt like a home away from home, and a family away from his small one.

#my fics #fics #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #kinda #im pretty sure they gave me the wrong @ but 😭

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mhdiaries · 4 years

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Wave 3 Howleen Wolf Diary

On the 20th of July

Clawd got to go away to football camp, Clawdeen got to go to Gloom Beach with Draculaura and Frankie on the Stein family vacation, and I have to stay at home this summer cause my parents think I’ve got some “growing up to do.” It is so not scare! I’m just as mature as Clawd and Clawdeen. I hardly ever chew anything I’m not supposed to anymore, Clawdeen says I don’t take showers but that’s not true - I just don’t take them as long as she does! I don’t think age has anything to do with being mature either cause I have this friend who is a gargoyle and she’s like way older than me - okay well it’s not like gargoyles count their birthdays the same way as werewolves do but she is totally not mature. I mean she likes a new boy like almost every day and most of them are not even that cute. I would never do that - you know not like a boy if he wasn’t cute cause I would so like a boy who was sweet and nice to me even if he wasn’t totally creepy cute. I can keep secrets too which my other who’s a banshee can’t do. If you tell her something she like screams it out at the top of her lungs. Even Clawdeen totally treats me like I’m still a little cub. Not only did she take all of her most creepy cool clothes with her to Gloom Beach but she also put a lock and chain on her closet. Whatever... I’m going to sleep in her bed and eat all the snacks she left in her mini-fridge. Then I’m going to let every monster know how miserable I am by not talking for the rest of the summer. Yeah, that’ll really show mom and dad how mature I am.

On the 25th of July

Ode to Cushion

Cushion is my hedgehog. She is sharp and poky. Cushion eats worms. My sister thinks eating worms is gross. My sister has to leave the room when I feed Cushion. Would you like another worm? Good Cushion. The End.

On the 30th of July

Some days I wish I had a remote control that let me change the channel on my style - cause right now I feel like I’m totally stuck watching the same lame... lol that rhymed... show over and over. When we were cubs, Clawdeen and I could watch the same episode of a TV show over and over and never get bored. I can still quote entire shows by heart and sometimes just saying a random line like, “Well, it’s certainly uncontaminated by cheese,” can make us laugh til we howl if I say it at the right time. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the remote control. I’d love to change the channel on the show my hair is starring in, because I really hate how it ends. Oh well, hopefully dying it orange to go with my favorite color of blue will make it easier to watch. Now I just have to decide do I turn up the volume to 10 by combining stripes and plaids or maybe I’ll mix a jean vest, knee socks and hiking boots with one of Clawdeen’s haunt couture skirts and make it go to 11.

On the 1st of August

Clawdeen came home today and she actually gave me a hug when she saw me. I guess I kind of missed her a little, or maybe a lot, too. She is my big sis after all, even if she is a pain in the fang sometimes.

On the 18th of August

I was in a boo funk this morning and I must have sighed one to many times cause Mom told me if I was going to mope around the house and get in her way then I either had to grab a broom and help her clean or go mope somewhere else. I think “mope” is a funny word... it sounds like it could be a character in a cub’s book... “There once was a mope who wouldn’t use soap and though its mom begged it always said, “Nope.” So I took my mope and went to the Maul. I didn’t really have enough money to buy anything cool but I went anyway. Going to the Maul always makes Clawdeen happy doesn’t matter if she’s by herself or in a group. It only makes me happy if I’m hanging out there with my friends - who were all doing something else today. I saw Heath Burns and Deuce haunting out butt I only said “Hi”. Deuce is cool but Heath is... Heath. Clawdeen says Heath’s like a stray puppy; “If you feed him anything he’ll follow you home.” So I kept on walking and didn’t stop to talk. I looked through a few shops and was going to head home when I walked by the music store and heard some monster playing a guitar. It sounded pretty clawsome and I just had to go in and check it out. What was even more clawsome was that it was a ghoul who was playing. I was totally staring at her... lame I know, but honest to claw it was like some kind of magic spell... okay it was still lame to stare. Then she turned around and caught me staring. I thought she was going to be mad but instead she waved me over. I found out that her name is Operetta and that she is going to be starting at Monster High in the fall. Her hair is redder than mine and she’s got this creepy cool beauty mark on the left side of her face that goes all the way down her arm. She also has this accent that’s a total howl. I asked if she would teach me how to play but she said “No.” I was disappointed but she explained that she loved playing and singing more than anything and if I took lessons from her she would expect me to love it just as much as she did. She told me that she didn’t think I was at that place yet but she did show me a few cords and I picked up what she taught pretty quick. I did sign up for a week of free lessons at the music store and who knows, maybe it’ll be something that I really love doing and not just because it makes me stand out from the other monsters I know.

On the 21st of August

At soccer practice today a ghoul who played on a werewolf cup team came and played a practice game with us. She was really creepy cool and a scary good player. She was so good that I was only able to steal the ball from her a couple of times during the game. After practice was over our coach asked her to talk to the team and give us some pointers. When she was done talking and the team was leaving, she and the coach called me over. I thought I must have done something wrong but she just wanted to tell me that I had a of talent and could be a really great player if I kept working hard. Then my coach told me that I was already a better soccer player than Clawdeen was at my age. I don’t think my feet touched the ground all the way home. No monster has ever told me that I was better than my sister at anything. Well, technically my parents are always telling me that I’m the best at being who I am and that Clawdeen could never beat me at being me but that’s totally different. Anyway, I was planning on telling the story to the whole family over dinner just so I could see the look on Clawdeen’s face but somehow it didn’t feel right to do that so I kept it to myself. When dinner was over, Clawdeen and me had to clean up and right in the middle of doing dishes she told me that she ran into coach at the Maul. Then she said, “He told me he thinks you could be a better player than me if you keep working hard.” The next thing I thought she was going to say was something like, “Over my cold dead spikes.” Only that’s not what she said at all. Instead she kind of smiled and said, “Well duh, tell me something I didn’t know.” I must have looked like a wolf caught in the moonlight cause then she said, “What?” “It’s not like he said you had a sense of fashion or anything.” Then I squirted her with the sink sprayer, which started a massive water fight. Clawd came in right in the middle to try and “alpha” us into stopping. It worked. We stopped attacking each other and started soaking him. It took us an extra hour to mop up, but it was so much fun, I don’t know what could have happened to make Clawdeen change so much over one summer.

On the 31st of August

I love our family cookouts. It’s one of my favorite things we do in the summer because all of my older brothers and sisters who’ve moved out, and have their own families now, show up with all of my nieces and nephews. There are cubs running everywhere, kisses and hugs, laughing and crying and sometimes you have to yell just to be heard. It’s crazy chaotic and a howling good time! The food is amazing too and there’s lots and lots of it. Draculaura usually comes over too which might seem strange that a vampire would come to a werewolf gathering but she’s such a part of the family that when she doesn’t show up to one of our cookouts everyone is bummed she’s not there. My dad even leaves part of the grill open for her tofu hotdogs, which aren’t bada if you put enough batchup, monstard and onions on them to disguise the taste of the tofu =). We also have a monster softball game in the open field behind our house. This year we played until it was almost dark, and the stars were just coming out; then they started coming down! We all ran to the house and grabbed blankets and sleeping bags and ran back out and just lay there watching them fall. You’re supposed to be able to make wishes on falling stars and they’ll come true, but there were so many falling that I ran out of wishes for real things and started wishing for silly things. I hope wishing that ice scream would appear every time I snap my fingers doesn’t cancel out my wish for perfectly straight hair. Oh well, it’s probably not likely either wish would ever come true but it was fun to hang out on a perfect night and pretend someday they might. Hee hee another rhyme.

#monster high #monster high diary #wave 3 #howleen wolf

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pieterzandvliet · 3 years

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Ed Gein

Edward Theodore Gein (/ɡiːn/; August 27, 1906[1] – July 26, 1984), also known as the Butcher of Plainfield or the Plainfield Ghoul, was an American convicted murderer and body snatcher. Gein’s crimes, committed around his hometown of Plainfield, Wisconsin, gathered widespread notoriety in 1957 after authorities discovered he had exhumed corpses from local graveyards and fashioned trophies and…

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exorciseyourspirit · 4 years

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Hard To Hear|| Skylar and Rebecca

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @theskyeandsea and @exorciseyourspirit SUMMARY: Skylar comes looking for answers about selkies, and gets more than what she wanted to hear about herself. CONTENT: Depression, Self Harm, Abuse Mentions

After their rather… alarming talk online, Skylar had done a little digging about Rebecca. She knew that she was a professor, that she worked with Morgan at the University-- a slight jolt went through her at that thought. Was Morgan still teaching? She couldn’t imagine that she was, not with how she’d been lately. Which, she couldn’t blame her. She’d taken time off work herself… As Skylar walked through the halls of the anthropology building, the wound on her leg twinged just a bit. The pain had subsided over the past week and a half and it was healing well. Or, at least, it was as far as she could tell. She was following all the instructions that Dr. Lin-King had told her and was just hoping for the best. Which was all she could ask for, honestly. Skylar rounded the corner and saw “Dr. Rebecca Rothbard” on the placard of an office. Swallowing, she pushed back the memories from the last time she’d approached a professor for supernatural assistance. Anita had been… less than helpful. Knocking on the door, Skylar spoke up, “Dr. Rothbard? I was wondering if you had time to talk with me?”

Time was mostly spent at the university now, the only space Rebecca truly felt safe in, despite the fact that she knew he’d been here. It still felt...untouched by him. Unlike her home, where he slept. Or her car, or her room, or her anything. She smoothed her hands over the surface of her desk, letting the cool touch of the wood calm her for a moment, before setting to work on the stack of books she’d brought with her. The hours had ticked by unknowingly and Rebecca only thought to look up when a knock sounded at her door. A girl’s voice rang from the other side, one she didn’t recognize. A student, perhaps? “Yes, c’mon in,” she called back, closing the book she’d been reading and sliding it away as the door creaked open to reveal a rather timid looking girl, with big, bright blue eyes. “Hello there, how can I help you?”

Ears straining to hear, Skylar took a slight stab in the dark at when she assumed the other woman had told her to come inside and pushed open the door. She really wished that the doors here had a window or something for her to look through. Pushing open the door, Skylar took in the office-- it was bigger than she’d expected, with a small couch in one corner, along with a wall packed to the brim with books. Blinking, she turned her attention to the woman in front of her and tilted her head slightly, trying to parse together the words that had been muffled by the door. “Um, sorry for bothering you. I’m… not a student here, but I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit more about something you mentioned earlier? I-- I’m Skylar, by the way. I’m friends with Morgan-- Professor Beck.” She said with a nervous nod. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this conversation, she just hoped that Rebecca wasn’t… dangerous.

Curious. “Well, any friend of Morgan’s is a friend of mine,” Rebecca said, motioning for the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” What they’d mentioned earlier? She supposed she was talking about the market and how Rebecca had blatantly used the term supernatural in regard to it. Did that mean Skylar was a part of that world, or was she just discovering it? Either way, Rebecca felt that pull that she felt every time a student asked a new question about anthropology, or every time someone asked to know more about ghosts. Leaning forward, she smiled. “I’m all ears, Skylar. You’re not a bother at all.”

Shutting the door behind her, Skylar nodded before sinking into the chair that Rebecca offered her. If she was still friends with Morgan, even after everything that happened, that meant she couldn’t be dangerous, right? She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was here to begin with-- desperation, maybe? Or just a hope that Rebecca was as knowledgeable as she came off online. “I… You mentioned things about the town being supernatural. And-- and you’re an anthropology professor,” Wringing her hands slightly in her lap, Skylar paused, not entirely sure how to go about starting her questions. “Do-- are things like this everywhere? Or is it just a White Crest thing?” She asked. There. It got the subject out there, even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted to ask.

Rebecca waited patiently for Skylar to gather her thoughts, watching her sit in the chair as if it were going to grow teeth and swallow her whole. It was a lot like how Blanche had looked the first time Rebecca had gotten her in her office, though with much less anger. “I did mention that stuff, yes,” she said after a moment, tilting her head in kind as Skylar paused. Ah, there was the question. She’d figured that was what the girl was here for. She was desperate for answers, desperate enough to trust someone she’d never met. Perhaps she’d have to warn her about that later. “No, it’s not just here. White Crest is what we refer to as a ‘hot spot’,” she explained simply, sitting neatly in her chair, “but these things exist all around the world. Is White Crest your first experience with the supernatural, then?”

“All over the world.” Skylar echoed, though that made sense. Hadn’t Ricky told her about how his mother was from a selkie clan overseas? And… she wasn’t from White Crest either, at least, not as far as she knew. That thought sent a mild wave of dread over her. She hadn’t thought much about the circumstances of her birth in a long time. But, whoever her birth parents were, they’d-- Swallowing, Skylar forced herself to focus on the woman in front of her. “That’s… That makes sense, I guess. It seems like people are just kind of drawn here. Is that because it’s a, a hotspot?” She asked. She wasn’t going to think about how she was among one of those exact people. “Mhm, it is. Before I moved here, I didn’t know about any of this.”

Something was clearly troubling Skylar, but Rebecca was unsure how to reach out to the girl in front of her. The situation wasn’t like hers and Blanche’s, where she knew and understood who she was and what she was going through. So if the only comfort she could offer her was words, then that’s what she’d do. “Yes, probably. Things here are...enhanced a little. Everything is a little louder here than in normal places. The magic, the energy,” she waved her hand in the air a little, “it has a certain draw, doesn’t it?” She liked to believe it didn’t influence her at all, but it wasn’t the truth. Even the Dybbuk had been drawn here. “That seems to be the case for many who come here. How long have you been in town, then, Skylar?”

As Rebecca spoke, Skylar’s fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap, partially fingerspelling words with quick twitching movements. Questions. Need. Help. Help, help, help. She needed answers, she needed to find out more about what was going on and what… what it meant to be like this. “Mhm. It seems like it. I’ve run into more… weird stuff here in the past four months than I’ve even seen in my entire life.” She said, her tone slightly hollow as she shifted her weight uncomfortably in the chair. The wound on her leg twinged a little bit, but Skylar did her best not to let the pain show on her face. “I moved here back in August, but I kept to myself for a while. I only started noticing the… supernatural things in January.” Back when she’d run into the ghoul with Winston. Back when she’d accidentally caught Ricky. Back when she’d stumbled upon Remmy in the alley. Things were so different then. “It’s only gotten worse since then and I just-- there’s a lot I don’t know.” And I need to know more.

Rebecca’s eyes immediately went to the fingers twitching in the girl’s lap. To most, it probably just looked like a nervous tick, but Rebecca had made it her business to learn many sign languages, and the movements she recognized in Skylar’s twitching fingers made her heart clench. “Yes, it does all seem to happen at once, doesn’t it?” she said, sighing softly. “Worse how so? Are you in trouble, Skylar? Has something happened?” she asked, concern tinging her voice. Though she held back the worry that was boiling in her chest. “Would it help you if we spoke in sign?” she asked, softer then. “We can do that if it’s easier.”

The moment Rebecca said the word “sign,” Skylar’s heart stopped. Sign. She knew sign-- she recognized-- No. No, no, no, no, no. Yes, she wanted her help, and yes, Rebecca clearly knew a lot about the world around them. But… the fact that she’d seen her fingerspelling and knew what she was saying? “I-- I’m--” Her words came out in a slightly stuttering cadence and she refused to look at the woman for a moment. She didn’t want to sign with her, not really. But, she needed answers. She needed help. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar lifted her gaze to meet Rebecca's eyes and began to sign, I’m not in trouble, not now at least. She was lying, of course. She had no idea if she was still in trouble. As long as that hunter was out there, she had a feeling that he wouldn’t stop trying to hunt her down. Do you know anything about selkies?

Rebecca worried, for a moment, that she might’ve scared the poor girl too much. But her relief came in the form of a question. Selkies. Rebecca knew about them, yes. She knew plenty about them, actually, one of the most docile and less secretive species, though it often cost selkie pods quite a bit to be open. Their skins were deeply sought after, after all. I do, she signed back simply, making sure her hands were in clear view for Skylar. You don’t need to be scared, she signed again, hoping the reassurance of the words matched the look on her face, you’re safe here. None of this leaves this room. What did you want to know?

Skylar felt her shoulders slump slightly as the tension eased from her body. Her secrets were safe. And… though she really had no reason to trust this woman, if she was friends with Morgan, if she was still there for her despite all that Morgan had been for-- that had to count for something, right? But, now that she was faced with the reality of asking Rebecca her questions, they all came rushing to her at once. Were there many of them? Did they tend to stay in groups? Were there any others around Maine, around White Crest? Were they always in danger? Or were they as alone as she was? Did they usually… leave their children? But, the one question that returned to the forefront of her mind. It was one she’d been wondering since Ricky had first told her what she was and what she had to do. He’d told her that she would die, that it would be long and slow and awful. And… and maybe it was. But, a part of her wondered that, if she pushed through the pain, if she just held on a little bit longer… would she go back to normal? Swallowing, Skylar signed, Do you know what happens to a selkie if they don’t change?

Rebecca’s heart simply broke at the question. There was no wondering about it now, Skylar was a selkie. And perhaps one who did not wish to be, by the way she spoke, by the taughtness of her body, even after she let go of the stress of being here. By the way her eyes misted ever so slightly as she found herself lost in thought. Rebecca could only wonder what had brought her to this moment in her life, who had left her to wonder and question who and what she was. Rebecca sighed, pressed her lips together in an attempt to give a reassuring glance, despite the seriousness of the answer as she signed, They will die. Painfully and slowly and tragically. It’s not a fate I’d wish on anyone.

Death. Skylar should have known that what he’d said was true. And, as the slow reality of it all crept over her, she realized that a part of her had known it. Every time she’d refused to turn, every time she’d thought that she could just… push through the pain, she had just put herself closer to dying. Dropping her gaze, Skylar rested her head in her hands and shook her head. Death and pain and tragedy. Was that all that awaited her? Was that all her life would ever be? Sitting there, her eyes closed and pressed against the palm of her hands, she attempted to gain some kind of control over herself. If Rebecca didn’t know that she was a selkie before, she probably knew now. Eventually, Skylar lifted her head and looked at the woman through watery eyes. I’m sorry. I just... She paused, unsure of what else to say. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in here and just… break down.

Rebecca could feel the girl falling to pieces, she didn’t even need to watch it. But she did. She stayed still while Skylar buried her face in her hands, waiting for her to look up again. And when she did, she simply said, It’s okay. She stood slowly, taking the box of tissues on her desk and coming around, crouching in front of Skylar like she had with Blanche, she held out the tissues, making sure to give Skylar eye contact to let her know that she was okay to cry here, she was okay to let go here. The door was closed and Rebecca was the only person around. She might not have known her well or at all, but Rebecca liked to hope that people could sense her calm. It’s okay if you’re not okay with it, either. Sometimes it’s hard, accepting what we don’t want to be.

Seeing the box of tissues that were offered, Skylar reached out and took a few with a grateful nod. She wiped her eyes, trying her best not to feel like a fool for… just coming into this woman’s office and having a meltdown in front of her. As she watched the woman sign, sign those words that she wished weren’t true, it took everything in her not to turn away. She didn’t want to see that. She didn’t want to know. But, trying to blind herself to the truth wouldn’t change it. “I didn’t know. That I was like this.” She said, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. “I never knew, no one ever told me that I was like this. And I don’t-- I don’t want to be like this. All it’s ever done has hurt me.” Skylar said with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-- you don’t need to hear this. I’m sorry.”

Rebecca sighed. The sight of someone in pain had always brought her great grief. It was supposed to be a gift, Rabbi Emmanuel had thought as much. Sometimes she questioned the truth in that, but right now, she saw someone in such great pain, it made her heart ache. “Skylar,” she said quietly, “I may not know you well, or at all, but here’s the thing of it-- sometimes in life, we’re given hands that we don’t want. Grief isn’t always losing something, you know. It can be gaining something, as well. And with a gain can come a loss. But...we can either grieve this part of us and get stuck there, or...we can move on. Despite the pain.” She sat back a little, weary in her age, from kneeling on the floor. A strange metaphor to her words. “Do not apologize. This is a safe space. And i’m sorry if you never had something like this before. And I’m sorry for your loss, Skylar. That you never knew what you were. Let me ask you this, though-- would it have been easier, do you think? If you knew?”

As Skylar processed the woman’s words, she couldn’t help but wonder. Move on. How could she possibly move on? How could she move on and accept this part of her that had destroyed her life? Being what she was-- she could still remember the way her parents stared at her, how they had just… held out her skin to her and let her leave. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she swallowed. I’m sorry for your loss. Fresh tears fell from her eyes and Skylar wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as though she could hold all the pieces together if she just held on hard enough. But, when had anyone ever told her that? That they were sorry for her-- not because of what she’d been through, or how she felt. But, an apology for the life she’d loss. But, at Rebecca’s question, a new train of thought entered her mind. Her eyes, heavy with tears, turned to look at the woman. “If I knew?” She asked, before letting out a watery, laughing sob. “If I’d known… Maybe I’d like what I am. Maybe I wouldn’t have hated everything that made me different.”

“But do you know that for sure?” Rebecca said quietly, looking up at Skylar with soft, but firm eyes. “Maybe you would have hated yourself more, for what you weren’t and could never be. You grew up with a human family, I’m assuming, yes? Would you not have wished, every day, to just be like them?” They were harsh questions, and harsh words, but they were ones that needed to be said, to be heard. “I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings at all here, Skylar, but the truth is that you can’t possibly know how you would have felt. And dwelling on that is what hurts the most.” She put a hand over her heart. “We all have parts of us that we despise. But here’s the thing-- we can change that. Not those parts, but how we feel about them. And sometimes it takes very little time, and sometimes it takes years, but the important part, is that we learn to forgive ourselves. For how we feel and what we’re not. Because that’s not your fault, Skylar. And it never will be. So, maybe, you start with that,” she sat up a little more, then, so that she was in even eye line with her and held out her hands. “Can you say this for me? ‘I forgive myself for not being human’.”

“My parents might have understood. They never knew what I was, they were only-- only trying to do what they could. They didn’t mean to hurt me. They didn’t mean to-- they couldn’t have meant to,” Skylar bit the words back with a choking sob before pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. It could have been better. In a different world, a different time, a different place, she might have had the happy childhood, with parents who loved her unconditionally, with siblings who didn’t despise her. She might have had the life she’d always wanted. Rebecca’s words fell on unwilling, but not deaf, ears. Skylar heard her, loud and clear. But she didn’t want to listen. She didn’t want to take them to heart. Pulling her head from her hands, she looked at the woman with tears streaking down her face. “I can’t. I can’t say that.” Not when she hated every part of her that wasn’t human. Not when she hated the seal skin, hidden behind her bookshelf. Not when she hated the slime that slicked her palms. Not when she hated the teeth she’d once desperately tried to file down, in a painful attempt to be normal. The teeth that were, to this day, still capable of tearing through flesh. Not when she hated this mouth, that had tasted blood. “How can I forgive myself when my own family never could?”

Rebecca let out a long sigh. This was going to take more than just one conversation to help. “Alright,” she said, standing up again and going over to her desk. She picked up a card from her desk and turned back to Skylar. “I know this is difficult right now, but you need to understand that none of this is your fault, Skylar. And your family not forgiving you, that’s not on you,” she held the card, “that’s on them. And only them. Trust that, at least. Tell yourself that, in the very least. That none of this is your fault.” When the girl took the card, she leaned back against her desk, looking at her with those mournful eyes. “You can contact me anytime, with any question, okay? Or if you just want to talk. From what I’ve seen of you, Skylar, you’re a good person, with a big heart, and those are exactly the kinds of people we need in this world. So don’t lose that. It’s special,” she tried one last smile, a bit tired, a bit lopsided, “You’re special.”

None of this was her fault. The words rang in Skylar’s ears, reminding her of what she’d told Remmy. That they weren’t responsible for the actions of others, for people not choosing better. And, that didn’t make her feel any better. Turning the lens on herself, realizing that… maybe she should think about it from that perspective, it hurt. It was harder to accept, a harder pill to swallow. Because, for her entire life, she’d always been wrong. She’d always been the one weighed and found wanting. But, when the other woman didn’t push any further, when she instead held out a card, Skylar couldn’t help the sense of relief. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Not right now. Rising from the chair, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before offering a tight-lipped smile of her own. “Thank you… I, I appreciate that.” She mumbled before practically fleeing from the room. As soon as she was out in the hallway, Skylar unhooked her hearing aids and stuck them in her pocket. She didn’t want to hear anything else. She didn’t want to have to listen to hard truths and confront even harder lies.

#chatzy #chatzy: skylar #skylar #wickedswriting #hard to hear #dr jekyll

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