fandomtownies | Midnight Manor Boarding House, Tuesday Morning

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Midnight Manor Boarding House, Tuesday Morning

On the scale of things in Marc's life which were weird, having gone from "Seriously, who wants to live in a place where I'm a freaking landlord?" to "Well shit, do we need to add another floor soon?" wasn't really on the high end of things. Not compared to stuff like not being the only person in his body, being in service of an ancient Egyptian god, the god being a nine foot being with a bird skull for a head, the fact that one of the residents of the boarding house was made of felt, the boarding house in question being a sentient pocket universe who only wanted to love -

Look, Marc had long ago learned to lean into the skid of his life's dubious connection to anything resembling sanity. Things were easier that way.

That being said, he was looking at the proof that more rooms in the place were being rented than not and thinking - well shit. Did not see that coming.

(He was also thinking damn it, this meant Steven had yet again been right about something. But he was thinking that one way softer. Steven did not need the encouragement to be smug.)

Anyway, that was why Tuesday morning found Marc in his office (nope, still not over his life giving him a freaking office), looking at floor plans, and wondering if it was too early to start drinking.

Out front the sign said Rooms to rent, ask within, come on in the door's unlocked, don't mind the man in the office his face always looks that way.

No prize for guessing whose handwriting the sign was in.

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Well, that sign wasn't in Illyana's handwritting!

...though on her way in from her run, she considered it, stuck her hand into a small portal to grab a marker from her bedroom, doodled a little smiling face with horns emoji on the sign, and tossed the marker back into the portal.

Proud of herself, Illyana stopped in the main hall to grab her mail. Junk, junk...ah. A bunch of envelopes, all addressed to her. It had probably been too much to hope that they were all going to forget.

Clea's handwritting on the front of one, one from Strange, one from Wong, Wanda, Angela & Sera, Kitty...even one from Dani, though it looked like nothing from the rest of the New Babies.

And a postcard, from Vaadhoo Island and the Sea of Stars. Yana's fingers stopped just short of flipping it over, as the magical signature of the sender sang against the edges of her senses. No. No way. There is no way her timing was this bad.

Illyana stomped into the kitchen, taking a seat before flipping it over, to read the inscription.

I know you have not touched a single one of the previous cards I have sent, so I presume you have left the Sanctum on your own adventure. I enchanted this to find you, wherever you have gone.

Happy birthday, sweet Illyana. I hope you continue to bloom...although it seems you have been 'blooming' without me.

Love, Leah

"Dark Gods damn her to Hel! Again!" Illyana exploded, tossing her hands in the air so all the cards fell to the floor. "HOW? How the fuck does she know???"

She was going to need to check all her jewelry that she'd worn to Caritas for enchantments now.

"UGH! Fucking sorcerers!"

Marc's office was right there so hard not to hear the shout. It was Illyana which meant that got him out of his (actually comfortable, he had to admit) chair and see what was going on.

"What? You okay?"

"Nothing," Illyana said, bunching up the post card and throwing it at the trash. "Absolutely nothing. Everything is fine."

Just ignore the tiny nubs of horns starting to stick out of her hair, Marc. That was totally normal.

She got up to kneel down and start collecting all the envelopes she had dropped. "Don't worry, the world isn't ending, people are just shitty."

Her demeanor gave a good hint at the answer, but wanting to be left the fuck alone was also an option, so Marc asked, "Need a drink?"

"It's never too early for day-drinking, right?" she asked dryly. "Sure. Just not American beer."

Marc gave her a look to indicate he was almost offended she would suggest he was the kind of amateur who would use beer at a time like this.

Okay, he would if there was no other option. Luckily there were plenty of other options. Marc went into his office and came back out with a bottle of ice cold vodka.

"Here," he said, offering it to her.

Be honored, Illyana, it was one of the ones you gave him. He shared those with nobody.

It look Yana a moment, before realization crossed her face. "I don't know if I should be flattered you kept it for special occasions, or offended you haven't succumbed to temptation and broken it open sooner," she joked, brightening slightly.

"Serendipity," Marc said, since that avoided him having to answer the question. He gestured to his office. "Wanna sit?"

"Well, since we shouldn't stand and drink the whole bottle..." she agreed, heading towards the office. "Oh, I might want to borrow the all purpose room later this week, if you don't mind. I want to see if Midnight can impersonate the Danger Room."

"I am...woefully behind on my physical training lately."

Translation: Illyana was itching to punch something, and needed a way to do that where she wasn't breaking real faces.

"Sure," Marc said, heading for his own seat. He trusted Illyana with Midnight for a multitude of reasons, so he didn't actually need to know this answer but he asked anyway. "What's a danger room?"

No capital letters when he said it. He didn't realize it had any.

"The best part of my last school," Illyana said dryly. "Think of it as...the most sophisticated training room you can think of. Hard-light holograms combined with a physically reconfigurable space. You could either practice dodging projectiles, or do a more intensive simulation."

"Great for training. Or blowing off steam."

"Got it," Marc said as he took his seat behind his desk. Little formal as seating arrangements went since it wasn't like this was a meeting or some shit. But on the other hand it allowed Illyana to have some personal space without it being obvious. "Go nuts. I trust whatever you're going to do with Midnight."

Whether inspired by Marc's words, Illyana's demeanor, or both, an illusion appeared in front of the desk. It was of a stuffed toy shaped like a basset hound. It held a cupcake with a candle in it.

"I'll let you know once Midnight and I have gone through it a few times, in case you also enjoy, say, bar fights without repercussions," Illyana said. "Or beating up mafia."

That was about when the illusion caught her eye. "Hey Midnight, welcome to the conversation, what do you---"

"Oh. Oh you rat."

Marc was about to make a comment about why on earth did he seem like a guy who would get into fights when he saw where Illyana's gaze went. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach when he realized what it was and that he didn't know how Illyana felt about it.

"Shit - Midnight, not if she doesn't wanna - "

This was Fandom Island. The people who either ended-up in fights or enjoyed getting in fights generally out-numbered those who did not. It was just statistics that at least someone else in Midnight besides her liked letting loose on occasion.

It might be Dean. But it sure as shit wasn't Arden, Watts, or Steven. Gonzo was a statistical outlier, and she never counted him in the math.

"It's fine," she sighed, getting up and putting a hand on the wall, to make direct contact with the House itself. "Thank you, Midnight, that's very sweet. I appreciate that you wanted to make me feel better on a not-great day."

Illyana looked over at Marc. "Wanna start pouring us shots?"

The please was unspoken.

You didn't keep booze in your office without also keeping things to drink it in. Marc got out a couple of glasses and poured them both a drink with a heavier hand than they might have gotten at a bar.

Why did he need a heavy hand? Don't worry about it.

"You know Steven'll want to say something," he told her. "He's into that."

"That" being birthdays. Peopling. That kind of thing.

Oh noooooooooooooo.

"I already talked about my feelings with Watts, we don't need to get into my feelings," she promised, glancing at the nearest reflective surface to see if she could catch a glimpse of Steven. "It's fine, it's my birthday, yaaaaaaaaaay."

"Honestly, would have been fine if my ex-girlfriend hadn't decided to be a petty bitch."

Nope, no glimpse of Steven yet, though good instinct on Illyana's part. Luckily Steven had experience with people who didn't want a big deal made of birthdays and had learned not to push.

(Sorta. Kinda. Work in progress. But on this shit he wouldn't.)

"I'll tell him Watts took care of it," Marc said. And hey: Thank fuck for Watts helping out on that end since nobody wanted it to be Marc. Unless you were asking for booze and violence like Illyana was, in which case he was definitely your guy.

Speaking of, Marc took a healthy swallow of his vodka. He paused for a moment as he felt the cold liquid hit his throat, then pressed on. "Sympathy on the ex. Anything you need help with?"

Not like advice or anything. But there was more booze if the vodka ran out.

Watts didn’t have an office (well, not here), but he was heading out with the intent of running a few errands when- Well.

“Miss Rasputina?” he said. “Did you receive some unwelcome correspondence?”

Edited 2024-04-02 18:04 (UTC)

Illyana glanced in the direction she had thrown her wadded-up postcard. "It's fine," she said tensely. "Just... wrong person, wrong day, wrong content."

"Didn't mean to alarm anyone."

“Understood,” he nodded. “Is there - anything I can do?” he offered.

"Do you think we can bribe Portalocity to block one person in particular?" she mused. "Like, no magic deliveries, no physical deliveries, not allowed to cause problems on purpose?"

“I don’t know about Portalocity,” Watts admitted. “Especially as I think this may be in the purview of the Post Office. But it might be worth asking Midnight if it can refuse to allow correspondence from unwanted persons into the building? Perhaps we could set up a ‘Return to Sender’ bin out front?”

Illyana said something deeply unflattering about Portalocity under her breath in Russian.

"I know how much Midnight loves people," she said thoughtfully. "I don't want to make it go against its own desire for connection, to ask it to pre-emptively refuse someone it hasn't even met."

"Leah's not dangerous. She's just... complicated." And really upsetting, at least to Illyana.

“Midnight is also interested in protecting its residents first and foremost,” Watts reminded her.

He gave Illyana a thoughtful look. “A former paramour?” he guessed, considering what sort of person might inspire such a response.

"And on almost the worst day possible," Illyana confirmed, making a face.

"And I would bet that universe of nothing but shrimp that she somehow knows what happened last week."

“Last week?” Watts frowned. “Ah,” he said after a moment, recalling radio broadcasts he’d caught up on yesterday. “With the…” he gestured vaguely in an attempt to convey the idea of pollen floating through the air. “Missed that completely, being out of town.”

"Yes, well, don't worry, I did not traumatize Midnight by bringing anyone back here," Illyana said lightly. "We went elsewhere."

She gestured with one hand towards the crushed postcard. "So my ex sent me a birthday card insinuating she knows I'm moving on."

Eh, it probably would have been fine. Steven and Watts had a very healthy sex life, after all.

(They were more concerned about the cat seeing something he shouldn’t, honestly)

“Ugh,” he grimaced sympathetically. “May I at least offer happy returns on the birthday? Or is it a date you prefer not to give any special acknowledgment?”

It was more that Illyana hadn't wanted to bring in someone new to Midnight, and then tell the poor House it wasn't allowed to be friendly right that moment.

It just seemed mean.

"I don't know how old I am? So it's hard to know how I feel about it," she admitted.

"On one hand, if I hadn't been kidnapped into a Hell, I'd be sixteen. I wouldn't have lost seven years of my life, but I'd also be a teenager right now, and that would suck and I would probably have a very different life that I probably wouldn't enjoy as much. On the other, with all the weird time-soup nonsense and time spent living in different universes with different time-flows, I think I'm twenty-three or twenty four?"

Illyana shrugged. "So. Complicated."

“Complicated does seem about right,” Watts agreed. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer to solve that problem for you,” he added.

"Trying to solve it is like trying to knit a sweater out of spiderwebs," Illyana replied. "...do you want to make cupcakes later?"

"Nothing truly fixes broken things. And I am a terrible cook, but you are a good one, and I think I would like to start off my next year learning something nice."

"I- I would be honoured, Miss Rasputina," Watts said, beaming at her. "Is there a particular flavour you are partial to?"

"We should probably start very basic," Illyana warned. "The only things I can cook without burning them or messing up are canned soup, frozen pizza, and pelmeni."

"Chocolate?"

"Ah, but you understand the basic principles behind operating a modern electric appliance," Watts pointed out. "Which was something of a learning curve for me when I first began. And chocolate is a wonderful choice as far as expanding those skills."

Cal had mostly accepted that he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, and that meant finding a place to stay and sleep. Or stay and stare into the void and pretend to sleep, same thing.

He was relieved to see the sign, but this place looked fancier than almost anywhere he'd stayed before, and he and BD-1 had to stop and stare for a moment.

"So many moons!" BD beeped excitedly. "It's pretty."

"Yeah, this feels like it belongs in Coruscant," Cal said. He headed to the office and peeked his head in. "Hi. Is the sign outside still right, about the rooms to rent?"

In spite of the fact that in that very moment Marc was pondering the room situation, he was still surprised to see somebody asking about them.

Look, it meant Steven was right about shit and that was just annoying sometimes.

Anyway: hey, they did have rooms so sure, why not?

"Come on in," Marc said. He motioned for Cal to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of Marc's desk. He looked Cal and BD over. "Which one of you am I talking to?"

It was Fandom. Marc assumed nothing.

BD-1 beeped and waved a leg at Marc, and Cal sighed, pulled him off his back, and set him in his lap as he sat down. "I'm sorry about BD, he forgets that he's not the one with the money. I'm Cal Kestis, it's nice to meet you."

"Marc Spector," Marc replied. He didn't offer to shake hands but that was because he was Marc, nothing Cal had done.

Marc reached into the drawer where he kept the unsigned agreements. "Yeah, we got rooms. What brings you to Fandom?"

Ah, that was becoming Cal's favorite question. "It was an accident, but I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon. I hope that's okay?"

"Don't give a shit as long as you're not hurting anybody in the building," Marc replied, matter of factly. Steven might do things like ask Cal if he was doing okay with possibly not being able to return home. But, well, this was Marc.

(Marc was likewise not going to say why he had a reason for double checking that some stranger showing up might want to hurt someone in the building. Not his story to tell. If Cal found out on his own, again none of Marc's business.)

"You been told about the weirdness of the island?" Marc asked. "Magic, people who fly, people from other planets, gods, all that crap?"

"I'm definitely not here to hurt anybody, I just need a place to crash and put my stuff," Cal said, raising his hands defensively. "Everyone's been really nice so far, and I'd like to keep it that way."

As weird as this place was, this was probably the longest he'd gone without anyone trying to hurt him in a while, and he had to admit, it was kind of a relief.

"I've gotten a fair bit of warnings - random kids show up sometimes, the showers don't always spray water, that sort of thing. I've met some people from where I'm from, but from very different times, so it was a pretty quick lesson."

Marc nodded, silently confirming Cal was on the right track with the stuff he'd been warned about. Some of Marc's own and who the fuck are you? vibe was dialing down as he was able to see Cal wasn't exactly coming off like a secret assassin or anything.

"Where are you from?" he asked. "Or who's from where you are, I guess?"

In fairness, either option had as much chance of Marc not knowing what Cal was talking about, depending on the answer. Marc really did not pay attention to details.

Cal appreciated the calmer vibe he was getting, if only to know he wasn't starting arguments when he didn't want to.

"I could give you a list of planets, but the important thing is none of them are this one," he said. "So far, I've met Rey and Lana, but apparently there are a handful of folks from my world here."

Was he nervously avoiding them? Maaaybe.

"Lana I know," Marc said. If she hadn't had reason to put the fear of - well in Lana's case fear of the Force? Maybe? - in the kid then that also worked for a recommendation. "The house is alive. That gonna be a problem?"

Sure Marc could lead with that but if he didn't want people staying in Midnight it was a moot point how they felt about Midnight being sentient.

Okay, that might explain the question about how much he'd already learned about the island. It wasn't the strangest thing he'd come across, but it was higher on the list than he expected when he walked in. Thankfully, he wasn't getting a bad feeling at the moment.

"It's not a deal breaker, but I'm going to need some more information on what that might mean."

"It looks like a building," Marc said. He indicated the walls and windows of his office. "Works like a building too. But it's actually a pocket universe. A living pocket universe. It has feelings and thoughts and shit."

Marc paused. "Not... literally shit."

As far as they knew. Seriously, nobody question where the sewage went. Some things were not meant to be thought of.

"It had a rough past," Marc continued, because this was important so good to get it out at once. "It's from a hell dimension. If you move in one of your housemates, Illyana, can tell you all about it. She's from there too. But it's a house. It wants to be a home. If you move in it'll take care of you. It wants company, basically."

Yeah, that was definitely a lot to take in, and Cal was still trying to process when BD-1 stirred in his lap.

"It wants help. We can help," he beeped, and Cal couldn't really argue with that.

"Home is a good thing for something to want to be," he said, sounding a little more certain. "I guess you can count me in."

"...hi?" Marc offered BD, since he wasn't sure exactly how to handle it. His experience with droids was zero. To Cal, he pushed the papers forward. "Cool. Give that a look and sign if you're good with it. How are you on light mind reading? Not your biggest secrets or anything. Just Midnight can't talk, so it's sometimes easier for it to understand what we want if it can see what we're picturing in our heads. But if you're not cool with that it won't, I promise. Believe me, we respect secrets around here."

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Midnight Manor Boarding House, Tuesday Morning

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