#A LONG FLASHBACK THAT HE DECIDED TO COPY HIS DEMONS

[forwantofacalling]

new jjk season has me crawling back to old fic ideas......my low confidence, need for serontonin, spite, and lack of time are currently beating each other up in backyard and they havent stopped since last night

[sineala]

Tony Stark and Arthuriana

Coming to you by special request, a very long post about 616 Tony's interest in Arthuriana, with a focus on all of Tony's run-ins with Morgan le Fay!

I feel like I should disclaim the extent of my knowledge here, which is that I still haven't managed to read anywhere near every issue of Iron Man -- at least, not yet, anyway -- so I'm just going by the things I know I've read, and Morgan le Fay's Marvel wiki entry is frustratingly under-cited, so it's very possible I've missed something relevant, but I'm pretty sure I've got the big stuff down. My other disclaimer here is that I'm not as big an Arthurian nerd as Tony is, which is to say that most of my familiarity comes from modern retellings -- T. H. White's The Once and Future King, Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave, Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset -- and not so much the usual classic sources on the Matter of Britain, though I've read bits and pieces of them.

(This is because I wanted to read versions of them that were as close to the original as possible but so far have not ended up finishing any of them because, well, that's hard. So I've never read the Mabinogion because I do not know Welsh. I've got the Norton Critical Edition of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, which is probably the best student edition if you're looking for something without modernized spellings, as I was. I've also got -- well, okay, it's my wife's but I'm borrowing it -- a relatively recent Boydell & Brewer edition (ed. Reeve, tr. Wright) of Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), which is, you guessed it, in Latin with a facing English translation. I haven't gotten very far in it because, in case you didn't know this about Latin texts, the beginning is pretty much always the hardest, so I gave up and read some Plautus adaptations instead. Anyway, if for some reason you too want to read Geoffrey of Monmouth in the original Latin I'd recommend that one, but I can't recommend any particular English translations because I've never read one by itself. I bet you didn't think you'd be getting Latin prose recommendations in this post. I mean, maybe you did; it is me, after all.)

Okay. Right. King Arthur. Here we go.

We've got:

Flashbacks to Tony's childhood in late Iron Man volume 1

A brief discussion of Morgan's origin story and Avengers #187

Iron Man vol 1 #149-150: Doomquest

What If vol 1 #33: What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?

Iron Man vol 1 #249-250: Recurring Knightmare

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom #1-4

Avengers vol 3 #1-4: The Morgan Conquest

Civil War: The Confession

Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11: Time Is On No One's Side

In terms of universe-internal chronology, we know from Iron Man #287, from 1992, that Tony has been a fan of King Arthur since childhood. This is an issue of a fandom-favorite arc which features Tony having a lot of childhood flashbacks, including the famous "Stark men are made of iron" line (in #286) that for some reason MCU fandom decided it loved; I mean, seriously, I've seen that quoted in way more MCU fic than 616 fic. But slightly later, in #287, we get an entire page devoted to Tony's love of King Arthur.

The narration reads: "Over the next few years, I learned as my father intended. Discipline of body. Strength of character. But in what free time I was allowed, I worked my way through the school's library. At thirteen, I discovered Mallory [sic], who showed me a whole new world. A world of dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Of chivalry and honor. And the fantastic deeds -- of armored heroes."

The art shows Tony as a child sitting under a tree, reading a book labeled Mort D'Arthur by Mallory [sic] -- no, don't ask me why nobody at Marvel checked how to spell either the name of the book or its author -- and daydreaming of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, knights, et cetera. Just in case you somehow missed the extremely blatant hint that we are meant to understand that Tony's knight obsession heavily influenced him becoming Iron Man as an adult, we see one of his armors mixed in with all the drawings of knights. So, yes, canonically Tony is Iron Man at least partly because he's a giant King Arthur nerd, which I think is so very sweet. I love him. He's such a dork!

(This issue is currently in print in the Iron Man Epic Collection War Machine, should you need your own copy.)

This isn't actually the only reference to Tony as a King Arthur fanboy in this era of canon, either; a little later, in IM #298, we see that one of Tony's passwords is actually "Mallory." (Yeah, no, they still couldn't spell. But it's cute.)

But in terms of actual publication order, this is definitely not the first time we have seen in canon that Tony is into Arthuriana, as I'm sure you all know. I would assume, in fact, that giving Tony a childhood interest in Arthuriana is because Doomquest is one of the most beloved Iron Man story arcs of all time, and that all started at least a decade before IM #287 here was published.

The villain of Doomquest -- the one who isn't Doctor Doom, at least -- is Morgan le Fay. Yes, that Morgan le Fay. Yes, Arthur's evil half-sister Morgan le Fay. Yes, all of this King Arthur stuff is canonically real history on Earth-616. Morgan's first appearance in Marvel, per the wiki, was in Black Knight #1 (1955), which I have not read, and judging by the summary I feel like this is probably just supposed to be a straight-up comic retelling of Arthurian legends for kids; I don't think Marvel really had the whole Marvel Universe in mind as a concept in 1955, so I'm not sure this was meant to connect to anything else. I feel like this is another one of those instances of Marvel discovering that they can write comics about characters in the public domain for free -- like, I'm pretty sure that's how we also ended up with, like, Norse, Greek, and Roman mythology wedged into 616.

As far as I can tell from the wiki, the first time Morgan tangled with the Avengers (or indeed the larger 616 universe) in any way actually predated Doomquest -- it was in an early arc in Spider-Woman (#2-6) and then Avengers #187, which came out in 1979, actually right when Demon in a Bottle was happening over in Iron Man comics. If you read #187, Iron Man is not in it because he's off the team due to his drinking problem and also his accidentally murdering the Carnelian ambassador problem. So Wonder Man's filling in instead. This issue is part of Michelinie's rather sporadic Avengers run, which makes sense, I guess, considering where we see Morgan next.

Anyway, Avengers #187 is the classic issue where Wanda is possessed by Chthon, but what you may not remember from Chthon's backstory (I sure didn't!) is that he was summoned by Morgan le Fay because she was the first person who tried to wield the Darkhold to summon him. As you can imagine, this did not work out especially well for her and her followers and they had to seal Chthon away in Wundagore Mountain, which was where Wanda found him. (The Spider-Woman stuff is only slightly earlier and also appears to be about Morgan and the Darkhold; the Darkhold is not one of the areas of 616 canon I am especially conversant with, alas. It's on my to-read list.)

Doomquest, as you probably know, was a classic Iron Man two-parter in Layton & Michelinie's first Iron Man run that set up Tony and Doom as rivals; Doomquest itself was IM #149-150, in 1981, and then in their second IM run they came back and did a sequel in 1989, Recurring Knightmare (IM #249-250), and then the much later four-part sequel to that was the 2008 miniseries Iron Man: Legacy of Doom, which was also by Layton & Michelinie but generally does not seem to be as popular as the first two parts. They've all been reprinted, if you're looking for copies; I have a Doomquest hardcover that collects the first four issues and then a separate Legacy of Doom hardcover. Currently in the Iron Man Epic Collection line there's a volume called Doom, which confusingly only collects the 249-250 part of the storyline (as well as surrounding issues), because for some reason the first Layton & Michelinie run isn't in Epics yet but the second one is. So the beginning of Doomquest isn't currently in print, as far as I can tell. I'm sure you can find it anyway.

So what's Doomquest about? Okay, so you remember how Doctor Doom's mother's soul is stuck in hell for all eternity? Well, Doom's obviously interested in getting her back, and the strategy he has embarked on is to try to team up with other powerful magicians who can help him out, and he thinks Morgan le Fay would be a good choice, for, uh, his quest. Doom's quest. A Doomquest, if you will. (If you've ever read Doctor Strange & Doctor Doom: Triumph & Torment, you're familiar with the part where he later ends up waylaying Strange for this and they go to hell together. And if you haven't read Triumph & Torment, you really should, because it's amazing.)

So Doom is off to his time machine to go team up with Morgan le Fay and Tony thinks Doom is up to something -- Doom has been stealing components for his time machine from a lot of people, including Tony -- and he follows him and it turns out one of Doom's lackeys has a grudge and wants to trap Doom in the past forever, and Tony gets caught up in it. Now they're both in Camelot. Surprise! #149 is actually all setup; they don't get to Camelot until #150.

IM #150 begins with Doom and Tony thrown back into the past; there's a fandom-famous splash page of them locked in combat, only to realize that they have found themselves in Camelot.

They are then discovered by knights; Doom would very much like to attack them, but Tony, who naturally would be happy to LARP Camelot forever, persuades him to play nice. Also Doom thinks Iron Man is only Tony's bodyguard so he keeps referring to him as "lackey," much to Tony's annoyance. Somehow everyone thinks they're sorcerers. Can't imagine why. The knights take them to meet King Arthur himself, and Tony has clearly had his introduction all ready to go, as he introduces himself in a timeline-appropriate manner, says he's here to apprehend Doom, and demonstrates his "magic" by levitating Arthur's throne. Doom's response is essentially "I'm the king of Latveria," which is, y'know, also valid. So they're guests at Camelot for the night while Arthur figures out what to do with them.

We then have a page devoted to Tony alone in his room, musing sadly about how alien he feels, how he doesn't know if he'll ever get home, how he could never fit in here without his beloved technology. Then a Sexy Lady shows up to keep him company for the night, and he decides maybe it's not all bad. Thanks, Marvel. I guess they can't all be winners.

Doom is using his evening much more productively; he compels one of the servants to tell him where Morgan's castle is, because he's still interested in having that team-up. Then he jets off. Literally. He has a jetpack.

The next morning Arthur's like "one of you is still here and one of you has punched a hole through the castle wall and flown off to join Morgan so I guess I know which of you is more trustworthy." He then explains to Tony who Morgan is, because Tony professes ignorance, because clearly we had not yet retconned in Tony's love of Arthuriana. Tony offers to go fight Doom and Morgan with Arthur; meanwhile, Morgan and Doom have teamed up and Morgan has offered to help get Doom's mother out of hell if he commands her undead armies against Arthur because for Reasons she can't command them herself anymore. So that's a thing that happens.

So, yes, it's Tony and Arthur versus Doom and Morgan. Fight fight fight!

Tony tries Doom first but then decides to hunt Morgan down, and in the ensuing fight we get what I think is Tony's first ever "I hate magic," a complaint that we all know he still makes even to this day.

Anyway, Tony freezes a dragon with Freon (mmm, technology) and Morgan gets upset and disappears, so the battle comes to an end, and of course Doom is extremely mad at Tony because he blames Tony for Morgan not sticking around to save Doom's mom, because I guess Doom trusted her to keep her word? Weird. (Like I said, for the next chapter of Doom saving his mother, go read Triumph & Torment.)

Doom says if he and Tony work together, the components in both of their armors can send them both home. So Tony has to trust Doom. Which he does, because he really has no other choice. They build a time machine and Tony makes Doom agree to a 24-hour truce when they get back, so they can both get home. So it all works out okay, and they end up in the present, and Doom tells him, ominously, that they will meet again. Okay, then. That concludes the original Doomquest. It's fun! You can see why fandom likes it.

So that's all well and good, but you might have noticed that Tony's ability to get home hinged on Doom actually being trustworthy. And Doom was. But what if Doom hadn't been? What if he'd just stranded Tony in Camelot forever As you may have surmised from the form of that question, that is in fact a question Marvel asked themselves, because, yes, there's a What If about this! What If v1 #33 is "What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?"

The divergence point from canon, as you can probably guess, is the very end of Doomquest. Instead of Doom bringing Tony home, he deceives him and leaves him in Camelot. And since Tony cannibalized a lot of the tech from his armor to make the time machine, he doesn't have a way to go home.

This is not a story where Tony comes up with a way to go home after all. He really doesn't get to go home. But instead of drowning his sorrows in mead -- because, remember, Demon in a Bottle has already happened and Tony is sober now -- he decides he might as well just play the hand he's dealt. So with what's left of his armor, he defeats some enemies that Morgan rounds up to send against Camelot. And for his services, he's knighted. He is now Sir Anthony.

Tony acknowledges that he is both living the dream and would also like very, very much to go home.

He does end up having some fun in Camelot; it's not all miserable. But he obviously doesn't want to be there.

So if you're at all familiar with King Arthur, you know how this goes, right? Arthur fights Mordred and Mordred kills him. And that does happen in this version. Except Tony is right there, and with his dying words, Arthur asks Tony to rule Camelot... and Tony agrees.

So, yes, Tony Stark becomes king of the Britons after Arthur's death and he never goes home again. The end. Man, I love What Ifs.

Heading back to main 616 continuity, there is still more of this arc to go. The original Doomquest was only two issues, yes, but it was popular enough that Layton & Michelinie did a sequel a hundred issues later, in their second run of Iron Man, and that's Iron Man #249-250, Recurring Knightmare. (In the intervening issues were Denny O'Neil's IM run, specifically the second drinking arc (#160-200), and then Layton & Michelinie came back and most famously gave us Armor Wars (#225-232). I would have to say that Armor Wars is definitely the standout fandom-favorite arc of their second IM run; for their first one, I think a lot of people would have a hard time choosing between Doomquest and Demon.) But anyway, yes. Recurring Knightmare.

Recurring Knightmare is... well, the best way I can describe it is "a trip." It is definitely a sequel to Doomquest, and it is also definitely not a sequel you  would ever have expected to see for Doomquest.

Much like #149, #249 is pretty much just setup. Fun setup, but the big action is in the next issue. We open with Doom in Latveria, on his throne, pondering which of his servants he should have disintegrated. Anyway, he's just hanging out there when a mysterious object appears. In California, Tony is suited up and entertaining the crowd at a mall opening when the same object also appears! He takes it to his lab. Please note that this is after the Kathy Dare incident, so Tony is still recovering and is walking with a cane. Doom sees on the news that Iron Man has found the same object, which cannot be carbon-dated, and he shows up at Tony's house. He criticizes Tony's taste in art.

Anyway, Doom basically orders Tony to work with him. Tony refuses, and then Doom sends some robots to attempt to steal Tony's version of the object because he thinks if he has them both he will be powerful. Doom manages to steal it, and when he puts the pieces together, both he and Tony disappear.

So where do they go, you might ask? Camelot?

Not exactly. The future! There is a great callback to the Doomquest splash page.

It turns out they are in London in 2093. Merlin brought them there. Tony still hates magic. And in the future, King Arthur is still there, except he is now a child, because he has been reborn. But he does remember Tony from Doomquest, at which point Tony kneels. Doom, of course, is not impressed. He asks why they have been brought to the future.

The answer is that things are going wrong in the future. If you do not personally remember United States politics in the 1980s, I need you to google the words "Strategic Defense Initiative" right now. I'll wait.

Back with me? Okay, so this is a future where Reagan's Star Wars program actually happened the way he wanted it to, and the satellites are still hanging around the Earth in the future and messing everything up, and Arthur and Merlin need Tony and Doom's help to stop them. Doom once again flies away with his jetpack, of course.

Tony is game to help, but he's not in an armor that can stay in space for long. This is when Merlin takes him and Arthur to the mall and Tony manages to get everything to upgrade his armor at Radio Shack. You see what I meant about this issue being weird.

Tony is out in space trying to disarm the SDI platform, which is where he runs into his future descendant, Andros Stark, who is in armor you will probably recognize from Iron Man 2020. He is referred to as "the resurrected spawn of Iron Man 2020" so I assume he's actually directly related to Arno rather than a direct descendant of Tony; Wiki confirms that Arno is his grandfather. This is all from way before Arno was contemporaneous with Tony in canon. Anyway, he's fighting Tony.

Oh, by the way, Future Doom exists. Future Doom would like to rule this future Earth and for some reason Andros would like to help him. Meanwhile, Present Doom finds out from Merlin that he can't leave except by magic and he can't leave without Tony, so he is reluctantly on Tony's side.

They need help from the Lady of the Lake, except the lake has been paved over and is now a parking lot. Merlin makes the lake come back and then of course they get Excalibur. Arthur is a kid, so he can't wield a longsword; Doom assumes he's going to take it because he is basically a king, and he's pretty grumpy when the sword picks Tony. Tony then uses Excalibur to destroy the space lasers, and I bet that is a sentence you never thought you would read. It's pretty cool. Tony concludes that magic has its good points. Tony stops Andros and Doom stops, uh, himself, and the world is saved and they get to go home. Also, Doom finds out Tony is Iron Man, but when Merlin sends them back he conveniently erases their memories, so neither of them remember anything about this and Tony's secret is still safe. And that's the sequel to Doomquest.

And if you think that's weird, wait until you see Legacy of Doom.

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom is a four-issue miniseries from 2008, also by Layton and Michelinie. Even though it's from 2008, it's set during a much more classic time in Iron Man, continuing on from where we left off in this Doomquest saga. We start with a framing story in 2008. Tony, who has Extremis now, is busy scrapping some of his older armors and reviewing his logs when he suddenly remembers that there was a whole thing with Doom that happened that he seems to have forgotten about until right now. So the whole thing is narrated by Tony in flashback.

Tony's in space fixing a satellite when a hologram of Doom shows up and summons him to Latveria. It's not really clear why Doom needs Tony's help in particular here, but Doom tells Tony that he's discovered that Mephisto would like to bring about the end of the world, which Doom finds, and I quote, "presumptive." So Doom has his Time Cube, and with it he takes Tony to hell.

(Yes, I promise this is relevant to Doomquest. There will be some Arthuriana shortly.)

Doom brings Tony to Mephisto, and it turns out it's a setup! Doom trades Tony for an item he wants from Mephisto, leaves, and Tony's going to be trapped in hell forever! Oh no! (I mean, he's not. But it's quite a cliffhanger.)

At the beginning of issue #2, we find out what the Arthurian connection is, which is that we learned that after the events of Doomquest, Morgan had been granted sanctuary by Mephisto in exchange for a shard of Excalibur that she had somehow stolen. Doom still wants Morgan's help with some magic -- he doesn't mention what it is here, but he says he needs someone of Pendragon blood, and that'd be her -- so he traded Tony to Mephisto in exchange for, I'm guessing, Morgan and the Excalibur shard.

I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but Legacy of Doom #2 is one of my favorite issues of Iron Man ever, solely because of the next scene. We return to Tony in hell. Howard Stark is also in hell, and he is now a demon, and Tony has to fight him. Mephisto brings popcorn and watches. This is the one time in canon when Tony actually confronts his father, and okay, yes, it's a fistfight in hell and Howard is a demon, but that's comics for you. Howard spends several pages insulting Tony -- specifically insulting his masculinity, but that's a whole other essay -- until he finally insults Maria too, and that's when Tony fights back, because his mother taught him to be good. Honestly if you're a Tony fan I'd recommend this issue just for that scene.

Anyway, we go back to the Doom and Morgan plot, and Morgan casts the spell Doom wanted, which was fusing the Excalibur shard with Doom's armor. Then Doom sends her back to Camelot rather than hell, because he's still mad that she never helped him get his mom out of hell like she said she would.

Tony freezes Howard with Freon -- yes, the same trick he pulled on the dragon back in Doomquest -- and tells him, "You're no father of mine." It is immensely satisfying.

(I had been going to mention that I thought it was a shame that neither canon nor fandom seems to have really engaged with this confrontation, and I know canon never believes in narrative closure but fandom sure does -- and then, anyway, it occurred to me that since the framing story of Tony remembering this is set when Tony has Extremis, there's a very good chance that he no longer remembers remembering it. Goddammit, Marvel.)

(If I got to retcon one canon thing about Tony, I think "the entirety of World's Most Wanted" is up there. I mean, okay, a lot of things are up there, but WMW is definitely on the shortlist.)

Okay. Tony has now engineered his way out of hell, and he's back with Doom in Latveria. Doom has Excalibur. Doom would very much like to fight him. While wielding Excalibur. You get the sense that this is going to be bad. Another cliffhanger!

Legacy of Doom #3 opens with Tony destroying Doom's lab to buy time and running away from Doom and Excalibur. I should probably mention that Doom still doesn't know Tony is Iron Man (anymore), so he thinks he is dealing only with Iron Man, Tony Stark's lackey. Meanwhile, some scientists at SI think there's something weird going on with space. Meanwhile meanwhile, Tony is in a forest taking a breather when a mysterious old man walks up to him.

It's Merlin! Surprise! Merlin wants Tony's help to stop Doom from doing whatever he's doing with Excalibur. The sword makes you invincible and the scabbard makes you invulnerable, so Merlin sends Tony to Scotland on a fetch quest for the scabbard. Doom has now magically sent the sword in search of the scabbard, so the sword flies away to meet it and Doom follows. Turns out the thing that's wrong with space is a thing that's going to hit Earth at the exact place Tony and Doom are. What a coincidence! So Tony and Doom get trapped in a stone circle and fight some stone warriors and then Tony ends up with the scabbard. And by "ends up with," I mean it fuses to his armor. Next issue!

Legacy of Doom #4 is when things really, really get weird. A giant demon made of eyes (???) appears, and this demon is apparently what Doom had been preparing to fight (because it's mad that Doom stole one of its spellbooks), and now he can't, because the sword and the scabbard aren't together. Thanks, Shellhead.

That's when Merlin shows up and says all is not lost. They can defeat the demon... if they put the sword into the scabbard.

"But I'm the scabbard now!" Tony says, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Merlin says. "You are."

Then Tony gets it.

So, yes, Doom has to, um, penetrate Tony. With Excalibur. I love comics. I love comics so much.

So that's a thing that happens.

And then Tony flies off and, I guess, resolves to never, ever think about any of this again.

We head back to the framing story, in which Tony, now having remembered all of this, flies to Britain, buys the land the lake is on, and paves it over, presumably so it will be there for Merlin to bring back in Iron Man #250. The end.

Whew.

Okay, yeah, I know I didn't have to summarize the whole thing, but Legacy of Doom here really is one of my favorite Iron Man miniseries. And I just want to share the love. Please read it. It's great.

But the Arthuriana fun doesn't end there! In fact, now we get an Arthurian-themed arc that actually isn't in Iron Man comics. It's in Avengers! Iron Man is involved, though.

(There is also apparently a Morgan arc in Avengers #240. I actually haven't read it. It seems to be yet another Spider-Woman arc. I get the impression that this isn't really Arthuriana other than having Morgan in it fighting Jess, though, so it doesn't seem quite as relevant. Morgan also apparently has some appearances in FF, Journey into Mystery, and Marvel Team-Up, but those seem like more of just basic villainy. Also, probably not involving Tony.)

Kurt Busiek's 1998 Avengers run, volume 3, is in large part the kind of Avengers run that is a nostalgic love letter to older comics. Heroes are heroes and villains are villains and good triumphs over evil. The Avengers all live in the mansion and are BFFs. I love it. It does assume that you are already a fan of the Avengers, because it starts out by summoning pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger and is available to the mansion, and that is... a lot of people. Thirty-nine, by my count. Also, when the entire team is magically whisked away, we are treated to the following narration, as Steve disappears: "And Captain America's last thought, as the world goes white around him, and he with it -- is that Iron Man would hate this."

The narration doesn't tell you why Iron Man would hate this, or how Captain America would know that Iron Man hates this. This is not explained later on. But if you have read comics -- or if you have read the above summary of Doomquest -- you know that Tony is absolutely, one hundred percent, thinking, "I hate magic." And Steve knows it.

The reference is not relevant to the plot; if you don't get it, you'll be fine. But that's what I mean when I say this is a nostalgia run. There are definitely Easter eggs for people who have read a bunch of comics. Busiek does this a whole lot in his work -- there's a reason you can buy an annotated edition of Marvels -- and, yeah, it happens here too. Just know that there will be references you're not getting, if you're new to comics.

Anyway. So Busiek's run actually starts out with an Arthurian arc, #1-4, "The Morgan Conquest." The name is a dead giveaway. Yes, Morgan le Fay is back. Again. For once, Doom is not involved.

The Avengers are all back from their sojourn on Counter-Earth after fighting Onslaught -- don't worry about it -- and mysterious things are happening. There are a lot of monster attacks. So pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger is summoned to the mansion, at which point we learn from Thor about some mystical artifacts that are being stolen. (They are the Norn Stones and also the Twilight Sword. That sounds like something from a Zelda game, doesn't it?) The Avengers go to try to stop this, end up in Tintagel, and then they run into Mordred. He wants to capture Wanda, presumably for Magic Reasons. Morgan le Fay casts a spell on all of them, reshaping reality. Yes, all of them. Surprise!

So now all the Avengers are living in a medieval castle and/or town; Morgan is their queen, and thanks to the power of mind-control they are all basically living in Ye Olden Times. The Avengers are all some variety of knight, except for Wanda, who is chained up in the dungeon so Morgan can steal her magic and use it to fuel all this reality-warping.

Wanda calls for help, and that snaps Steve (Yeoman America!) out of the mind control (or altered reality or whatever you want to call it) pretty fast, because Steve's always been very good at resisting mind control, and then Steve promptly goes and snaps Clint out of it, because I guess Steve is also good at inspiring people to snap out of mind control. "Oh, man!" Clint says. "Not another alternate reality! Not again!" (I assume he's referring to Counter-Earth? Maybe?)

So Steve and Clint go around reassembling the Avengers and orienting them as to reality. They get Jan and Monica easily, but then Steve insists on trying to get Tony because, I guess, he likes Tony and would really like to hang around Tony, who is half-naked and asleep in his bedroom, and certainly I am reading nothing whatsoever into this. Clint tells Steve it's not going to work. Tony has historically been fairly susceptible to mind control; it was only pretty recently at this point that he'd been doing Kang's bidding in The Crossing. But the more serious impediment is that this is Tony Stark and he would obviously like to LARP being a knight forever and ever. Tony, therefore, does not believe Steve, and throws him and Clint out of his bedroom and into the barracks.

"Iron Man's a good guy, normally," Clint says. "But he's waaay too into his whole nobleman/lord of the manor trip. That spell musta hit him right where he lives!"

Clint speaks the truth, clearly.

Anyway, they go around and manage to make pretty much every Avenger in the room other than Tony snap out, and attempt to rebel against Morgan while Tony is stil fighting them because he is Still A Knight. There's a lot of punching, because some of the Avengers still aren't free; they weren't ones Steve found.

The day is saved when Wanda manages to channel Wonder Man and break free. This gives the Avengers a fighting chance against Morgan and the Avengers are all lending Wanda their power when Tony finally snaps out of it and is on the side of good. 

Then they take Morgan down, go home, and attempt to figure out which of these thirty-nine people should be on the active Avengers team. Hooray.

But that's not the end of Morgan le Fay showing up to screw around with Tony's life! There's more to come! Not much, but there is one that I know of, and at least one more memorable reference. 

(I haven't read all her appearances or anything, but one of them definitely involves Tony; I can't swear that he doesn't appear in any of the other books Morgan shows up in, but it'd be a cameo for him, because I only know of one more arc that she's in in a book that Tony stars in.)

In a few more years, we have now entered the part of Marvel Comics history where Brian Michael Bendis writes all the Avengers books at the same time for, like, seven years running. It was sure A Time. There were a lot of word bubbles.

And the thing about Bendis is, Bendis looooooves Doomquest. If you're familiar with the very end of his tenure at Marvel where he made Doom be Iron Man after Tony got knocked into a coma in Civil War II, you have probably figured out already that he likes Doom. But he also likes Doomquest, specifically.

I mean, if nothing else, the giant splash page in The Confession where Maleev redrew the climactic Doomquest fight while Bendis had Tony talk about how deeply meaningful to his understanding of the world this all was -- and how it allowed him to predict Civil War -- was probably a big clue, right?

As far as I am aware, Morgan le Fay makes exactly one more appearance in Tony's life. And that's in Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11. Only one of those issues is named, so I'm going to assume the arc is named after it: Time Is On No One's Side.

You remember Mighty Avengers, right? The deal with the Avengers books at the time was that after Bendis exploded the mansion and made the team disband in Avengers Disassembled, the main Avengers book was no longer called just Avengers. Instead, the main Avengers book was New Avengers, and that was the only Avengers book. Then Civil War happened, Steve got killed, and New Avengers became the book about what was left of the SHRA resistance (i.e., Steve's side) after the war. So about halfway through New Avengers, Mighty Avengers starts up, and Mighty Avengers is about an extremely fucked-up and grief-stricken Tony Stark trying to run the official government-sanctioned Avengers team, with Carol's help. This is the comic with the arc where Tony turned into naked girl Ultron. You remember.

So, anyway, there's this Mighty Avengers arc where Doom is Up To Something (there are symbiotes and a satellite involved) and somehow Tony and the Avengers end up in Latveria, punching Doom. Also, by the way, Doom is visiting Morgan in the past because he likes her. The Avengers attacking his castle made him have to come back to the present, so he's kind of cranky. And he fights Tony, and in the course of the fight, his time platform explodes and sends Doom and Tony and also the Sentry to... the past.

This is one of those times where you should definitely look up the comics if possible because the way the past is visually indicated here is that it's colored with halftone dots the way you would expect old comics to be colored, although they have modern shading and color palettes. It's very charmingly retro.

So the three of them are stuck in New York in the past, and naturally they would like to leave. There's one person in this time who has a time machine and it is, of course, Reed Richards. Doom and Tony have a lot of banter in this arc; I think it's entertaining.

Sentry has to be the one to break them all into the Baxter Building because of that power he has where no one will remember him. So they do that, travel forward in time, and end up in Latveria in the present again except Doom is gone and also things are currently exploding where they are.

Doom, of course, has made a side trip to visit Morgan again and he asks her to help him build an army, because I guess this is what their relationship is like. So the rest of the Avengers are captured by what look to me like Mindless Ones and are in a cave in magic bondage, because comics. Jess comments that at least they aren't naked, because she too is remembering that memorable New Avengers trip to the Savage Land. Doom threatens Carol in some creepy sexist ways and eventually it turns out that Tony and the Sentry are fine and everyone kicks Doom's ass. Business as usual.

And the last page of the arc is Morgan alone, wondering where Doom is. So technically Morgan and Tony don't come face to face here, but I think she counts as being at least partially responsible for ruining Tony's day here. And then Secret Invasion happens and Tony has a very, very bad day.

There are a few more Morgan appearances after this, but, as I said, I don't think any of them involve Tony. She shows up in Dark Avengers, apparently, which was one of the post-Civil War Avengers titles I didn't read, and I know that recently, on the X-Men side of things, she's been in Tini Howard's Excalibur one, which I have only read a little of. No Tony there. Just a lot of Morgan and Betsy Braddock and Brian Braddock and the Otherworld.

If you are interested in Morgan's other appearances, you might like this Marvel listicle that is Morgan le Fay's six most malicious acts. I pulled some of the Darkhold backstory from their discussion, but it's not really focused on Morgan and Tony.

So there you have it! That's everything I know about Tony's love for King Arthur and every run-in I know about that he's had with Morgan le Fay! One of two terrible people in Tony's life named Morgan! Actually, I don't think we've seen Morgan Stark in a while. I wonder if he's alive. There should be a Morgan & Morgan team-up. I should probably stop typing and post this.

The tl;dr point is that you should all read Doomquest and its sequels, especially Legacy of Doom. They're great!

[beybladefanboy]

Top 5 Metal Masters Episodes

Honestly, out of the three main seasons, Masters to me is the weakest. That is by a slight margin, it’s still a very good season, but it is a more noticeable margin than the one between Fusion and Fury. I think we can all agree that the time they spend in America in the last twenty five or so episodes is the most consistently good part of the season. Before that, this season goes up and down in quality like a rollercoaster. In the end though, this season was more good than lackluster so here are the best episodes.

Honourable Mentions

Episode 98: The Fallen Emperor

This is the episode where Da Xiang and Julian battle. I honestly really relate to Julian’s story where he was held to really high expectations and was never allowed to fail so when he did, he didn’t know how to handle it and felt like he lost everything. This episode also made me really like Da Xiang. He was annoying at first but seeing him become a leader who has found strength supporting his team and getting back up after every defeat and teaching Julian to do the same was really nice. It was a great moment for both of their characters and it was cool seeing Da Xiang use the full extent of his abilities. I didn’t really think of him as a really strong blader before this episode.

Episode 100: The Wild Beast Unleashed

This is Kyoya and Damian’s battle and once again, I’m biased toward Kyoya. I like his battle against Damian more than Gingka’s because Gingka was sort of guaranteed to win while Kyoya could’ve gone either way. I don’t really have much to say: it’s just an epic battle and an interesting look into Kyoya’s character. I won’t go into that because another Tumblr user has already done a much better job and I don’t want to copy them, it’s just really in line with the Kyoya we know.

5) Episode 77: The Dragon Emperor Returns

I mentioned having a Kyoya bias but if there’s a character I have even more of a bias for, it’s Ryuga. Long story short, this is the episode that made Ryuga my favourite character. I liked him as a villain in Fusion, and was already starting to get a bit of a crush on him, but this episode made me fall in love. In fact, I can pinpoint the exact moment it happened: when he explained how the dark power was man made so he could overcome it and draw L-Drago’s power from its original source, showing that he was willing to admit his mistakes and determined to grow from the experience. How could I not admire that? He’s also just a total badass. His entrance in this episode, walking in with a sadistic looking smile as he makes meteors fall all around him before he beats the crap out of everyone there was just amazing. This is also a great episode for Tsubasa, another favourite character of mine. He’s going crazy due to the dark power in this episode, letting his dark side take over and drive him to battle Sophie, Wales, and Julian in the woods at night with the intent to destroy them. It’s tragic but the Dark Tsubasa arc was the best part of Masters so I really liked seeing him struggle with this darker side and seeing Ryuga provide him the solution: to become one with the dark power. Just a really interesting episode overall.

4) Episode 69: The Scorching Hot Lion

Here’s more of my Kyoya bias. This episode was a huge breath of fresh air. Masters before this point was really uninteresting for me, with the exception of the Dark Tsubasa stuff which hadn’t been portrayed much at this point. It was mostly battles I didn’t care for and Gingka, Masamune, and Yu being insanely obnoxious. So to get away from them, and see a character’s return I was personally waiting for with baited breath, it was like a drink of cold water on a hot day. This is a simple episode all things considered: it’s just the formation of Team Wild Fang but that was more interesting than anything else in the season at that point. Kyoya and Nile’s camaraderie/friendship is developed and showcased well, to the point where they already really feel like a team. Demure is sort of just inserted into their group but he does prove himself to be useful and to kid me, it was a nice surprise that he was the one to make their team. So yeah, just a simple episode showing fun interesting characters forming bonds.

3) Episode 91: The Furious DJ Battle?!

This episode is honestly just funny. It doesn’t accomplish anything plot-wise: it’s just Gan Gan Galaxy trying and failing to find a replacement member for their team since Tsubasa and Yu are both hospitalized. Kenta and Wang Fu Zhong all battle for this honour, when Ryo interferes in his Phoenix costume. He tries to join the team, stupidly not knowing the rules of his own tournament and in one of the most satisfying moments EVER, Hikaru puts this idiot in his place and Ryo is disappointed. His suffering is points in my book. Then the American and Japanese blader DJs come in. Rewatching it now, this episode was probably fan service for people that wanted to see them battle but it’s honestly great fan service. Seeing the main cast react to such a terrible bey battle, with the series’ over the top announcing, is just amazing. Words can’t really give it justice. Just watch the episode. It’s the funniest one in the show.

2) Episode 72: Eternal Rivals

In my opinion, this was Gingka and Kyoya’s best battle. I always have fun seeing these two battle but at this point in the series, they hadn’t battled one on one since Metal Fusion. The battles got much more layered and fierce since then. Gingka and Kyoya are constantly going back and forth between who is winning, trading special moves and keeping you on your toes and wondering who’s going to win. And then… neither of them do. Gingka and Kyoya end up being equals in power, using up every ounce of their strength trying to defeat their opponent before collapsing from exhaustion. Yeah, it’s kind of disappointing we never saw Kyoya defeat Gingka. However, I think a tie was the perfect way to end this specific battle. Before this, Masamune lost to Nile so one more loss would’ve kicked Gan Gan Galaxy out of the tournament but simply giving Gingka the win would’ve sort of discredited the hard work Kyoya put in. Having them tie keeps Gan Galaxy at the disadvantage without making them lose and showcases how far Kyoya has come as a balder. Overall, just a really epic battle that makes the slower parts before it worth it.

1) Episode 79: Dark Eagle

There’s a very simple reason I love this episode: it’s the culmination of the Dark Tsubasa Arc, aka the best thing about Metal Masters. It was an interesting look into a character's psyche and added a darker layer to the earlier part of this season. However, this resolution was what made it really stick out to me. In other shows I've seen (Yugioh for example) the goal is always to drive out/destroy the darkness within people but this episode decided to go in a more realistic direction. Realistic in an representational way I mean. In real life, we can't drive out our "darkness" so to speak. What we can do in real life is accept ourselves and learn to overcome our inner demons rather than denying them, which is what Tsubasa did in this episode. He accepted that his darker self was part of him but that it didn’t define who he was, overcoming that darkness and creating a new special move on the spot to defeat Sophie and Wales. Yeah, the battle itself is still really good but the flashback of Tsubasa as a kid and him overcoming his dark power is what propels the episode into being one of the best.

[wormstacheangel]

December 19, 2021

Hello! I’m done with this chapter just in time! It took me all day cause I get distracted easily lol Enjoying my countdown for Christmas with this domestic family? Then catch up with the masterpost here!

Summary: Welcome to the flashback episode where we get the story of how Dean and Cas got together. I think it’s dumb but cute :) 

Word Count:  2358 (yeah...this one could have been longer but I had to chill)

Cas was humming in the kitchen, his playlist playing loudly through the house, while he prepared Dean’s lunch. He stirred the soup once before grabbing a spoon to taste for seasoning. Adding a bit more white pepper before dropping the chopped kale into the hot pot of chicken rice soup.

“Dad?” Jack appeared on Cas’s left. “What time is Dad coming home?”

Claire appeared on Cas’s right. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

He turned towards Jack first, who was mesmerized by the stirring of the soup. “You’re Dad will get off from work at 5, so by 5:30 he should be home.” Then he turned his attention to Claire who was snacking on the homemade croutons. Her eyes met his and she smiled, small and crooked with warm eyes. “And I’m listening to a playlist Sam made me. I believe this is Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Oh, scratch that it’s playing Heaven Help Me by Lizzo now.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back to laugh. A hand landing hard on his shoulder while he smiled fondly at his daughter. Jack was already humming the song while reaching for some croutons for himself. Making a face when he bits down on a real burnt one.

“Does Dean listen to this teenage girl stuff?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter. 

Jack copied her movement but it didn’t look as casual as Claire made it seem. Cas moved around them to get a tall thermos to fill with enough soup for a second or third bowl. Dean’s lunchbox was already filled with everything he needed to keep himself warm and full until he came home for dinner. He even added a loaf of apple cinnamon bread to his lunch so Dean could share with his coworkers. A smaller thermos was filled with coffee and he was bringing an extra reusable water bottle, covered in stickers Jack picked out, just in case.

“Sometimes. If he’s in a good enough mood.” Cas admits as he finishes filling up the thermos and zipping up the lunch box. 

“You know, you never really told me when you two finally got together.” Claire pushed herself off the counter to grab his arm, looking at him with bright rounding eyes that matched his eye color. “I think I deserve to hear how my Dads got together!”

“It’s a great story.” Jack agrees as he decided that copying his sister wasn’t fun anymore but he was gonna rummage through the fridge. “Dad Dean doesn’t really like talking about it much.”

“What? Why?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows together while looking up at Cas for answers. “You two are so happy-old-married-couple that it’s sickeningly cute. Was he embarrassed or something?”

“Thank you?” Cas raises an eyebrow back at her as he swings the lunchbox into his shoulder. “And he was embarrassed but I think it’s a story we should tell in front of your father.”

“Why?”

“Cause it would be funny.” Cas tells her with a wink while Jack hummed in agreement, a big smile on his face.

As Cas drove slowly through the icy road, he was smiling, fighting back a laugh, unable to stop remembering the day he returned to Earth. Returned to Dean.

It was a few days of Earth time after Chuck was defeated that Cas escaped with his brothers and sisters, along with a few demons that tagged along. He made sure Ruby stayed asleep and behind, not wanting her to bother Sam or Eileen. He never did find Crowley or Meg, even spending some time calling out for both of them when he realized so many were woken up. 

Jack found him and helped him up to heaven to try to fix whatever they could. He didn’t ask about Dean or Sam but Jack reassured him that they were fine. 

“Let me make you stronger, Cas.” Jack reached for him but Cas stopped him, shaking his head.

“I don’t plan on being an angel for long, Jack. So let me use whatever is left to help you.”

And he did. Two Earth months passed before everything was sort of decided upstairs. Raphael wasn’t the biggest fan of the new dynamic but he followed orders, happy it wasn’t under Chuck and he could actually interact with whoever was in charge. 

Cas could feel more of his grace slip away from him when he was with Bobby, reassuring him that his boys were the hero’s he believed them to be, and most importantly they were happy. 

“Are you going back to them?” Bobby asked as he sipped at his beer, Cas sat beside him drinking one of his own. Tasted just like the first one Dean has ever given him. 

Cas hummed into the bottle. “I am.”

“But they think you’re six feet under?”

“They do.” He looked down at his bottle, peeling away the label with his thumbs. “Sometimes I believe that Dean doesn’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“He prays to me constantly.” Cas smiles, listening to Dean’s prayer right now. “Right now he’s complaining about the crowd at the grocery store.” He chuckles. “And he’s right. I do hate waiting in those long lines.”

Bobby doesn’t say much but the way he says, “Just take care of my boy.” Felt like the blessing he needed, the push, to finally go back to Dean.

Jack was coming down to Earth with him. It may take a while longer to figure out the spell to conceal and hold Jack’s God powers but they would figure it out. Amara promises to find them a way to help him and will contact them soon, giving Jack a final squeeze before she disappears. 

Cas gave Gabriel one last hug, Adam even gave him one even though he was sure Michael wasn’t the hugging type before Jack flew them back to Earth. Appearing in the middle of the bunker’s library. 

Jack ran off with a small smile on his lips, it was constantly strained and never reached his eyes as his powers overwhelmed him, to go look for the brothers. Cas was feeling dizzy from the flight so he shut his eyes, taking a hold of the back of the chair to steady himself. 

Then he looked up when he heard a bottle break. There was a figure laying on top of the map table. 

Cas took out his blade and made his wobbly legs steady before making his way over. Kicking empty beer bottles as he went. Then two bottles of bourbon by the steps. Then he saw the broken bottle of tequila that now laid on the floor by the table.

His eyes traveled up to the map table to see Dean sat blinking over at him. Head tilted and mouth slightly parted. As if he still couldn’t put a name to his face.

Cas put his blade down and made his way over to the drunk hunter. “Be careful there is glass everywhere.”

When he made it to the broken bottle he pushed it into a neat pile with his shoe. 

“How about you go to bed and I’ll clean this up?” Cas leaned down to pick up the bigger pieces but he was quick to cut himself. “Fuck.” Cas hissed as he realized he couldn’t find any grace to even heal himself enough to stop the bleeding.

Dean gently reaches down to take Cas’s bleeding hand. “The last time I saw you, the real you, the same hand was bleeding.” Dean held on to his hand and tears started to fall into Cas’s hand. “I wish I could have at least helped you patch it up. I wish I could have at least done one goddamn thing for you.”

“Dean.” Cas reached to touch Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers but Dean pushed his face into his palm. His heart raced as he cradled Dean’s face in his good hand while his other hand was being held so gently. 

“I miss you, Cas.” His eyes closed as Cas’s thumb started to make circles around his cheek all on its own. Feeling the stubble that was growing too long for Dean’s liking. “I miss you so damn much and I just...I don’t-I don’t think you’re coming back this time.”

“I’m back, Dean.” Cas tells him with urgency. Taking his bleeding hand back to grab Dean’s face, wanting to make him look at him. When Dean blinks up at him again his eyes start to water. “I’m back! I’m here. I’m here, Dean. As long as you want me.”

“Cas?” Dean finally seems to look at him, actually see him. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re back?” Dean covers Cas’s bloody hand with his own while the other one reaches to grip the trench coat. 

“Yes, dumbass.” Cas chuckles through his tears. 

Dean tugs at Cas’s coat and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his shoulders into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzled into Cas’s neck. His breath tickling him and his breath...horrendous. 

“You stink, Dean.” Cas hugs him back as he hides his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Dean says as he pulls himself closer. 

“I know. I heard your prayers.” Cas chuckles into Dean’s skin. “I love you too.”

Dean pulls back so suddenly that it scares Cas. Thinking maybe he said something wrong but then Dean made another sudden move.

“Marry me!”

Cas choked on his breath when he couldn’t even find his next words.

“Cas, marry me!” His eyes were wide, eyes dilated and a flushed face. Clearly drunk out of his mind. “You’re back so we can get married now! I mean...I think you need to ask Sam for my hand but fuck him for ditching me for Eileen today. Let’s get married before he gets home.”

Dean started to pull him towards the stairs, both of them stumbling over their feet for two different reasons. 

“Can I come too?” Jack finally made his way towards them. “I can be a flower boy!”

“Jack, we’re not getting married.” Cas tells him, his head spinning. “I just…Dean, you’re drunk!”

“Am not!” Dean argued back, his brows furrowed together. Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at how cute his grumpy expression was. “Say you’ll marry me, Cas!”

“Fine, I’ll marry you!” Cas smiles back at him and the grin that shined through Dean’s eyes made his heart race. Fuck, he really missed him. “But not tonight. Tonight we sleep off the alcohol.”

Dean Winchester was pouting at him and his heart ached. He reached to grip at his own shirt, right over his heart. “Dean, please.”

“But I love you.”

“Aww,” Jack pouted back at him. “Dad, he loves you!”

“Jack, you are not helping.” Cas glared at him and then before he looked back at Dean he had a pair of hot lips pressed against his own. Dean was kissing him.

Before he could even enjoy the kiss or even register it completely, Dean was throwing up on his shoes.

Back in the garage, Cas was grinning when he stepped into the warm office. Dean was in the front office when he walked in, the phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed away in the computer. His eyes widened when he saw Cas but then a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, we’ll send someone right over to tow your car right over. It shouldn’t take more than two to look at. Of course. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. No worries. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up the phone and quickly rushed to pull Cas into a quick kiss and a tight hug. “Babe, what are you doing here? I said the roads were still too icy to drive in.”

“And yet you put snow chains on my tiers this morning.” Cas hands him his lunch that his boyfriend takes with a grin.

“It’s cause I know you wouldn't listen.” He kisses Cas’s cheek. “Thanks, Babe. You have time to eat lunch with me?”

“I always have time for you, Dean.”

When lunch was over Cas walked back to his truck, Dean fixing the beanie over his head once again. Giving him a quick kiss before saying, “Get home safely.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Cas waves at him when he quickly rushes to the warmth of his truck. Then before he gets into the car he looks back at Dean, who of course was still looking back at him, “Oh, by the way, Claire wants to hear the story of how we got together.”

Dean stood there for a few seconds as his face dropped, cute grumpy. “No.”

“I promised to tell her over dinner!”

“No!”

“Love you!”

“Cas, babe, no!”

“Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too but no! Cas!”

That drunk proposal felt like years ago instead of months. 

Of course, the best part of the night was the following morning.

Cas woke up with Dean staring down at him, eyes red and filled with tears but a soft smile on his lips. Fingers running through his hair in a gentle caress. Never feeling more at home than he did that morning in Dean’s bed.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep.” Cas mumbles as he reaches over to rub his eyes with the palm of his hands. 

“It is but you’re, um...you’re cute when you sleep.” Dean admitted while Cas froze his face warming up under his hands. “Are you really here, Cas?”

He finally pulled his hands down to stare back at Dean. “I am.”

“And you’re here to stay? Human?”

“I am.” Cas stood still under Dean’s intense stare. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him breathless.

Cas, as well as Jack, was made to promise not to talk about the proposal. Especially the throwing up part or the Jack carrying a passed out Dean to his bed. Cleaning both of them up before he went back to his own room. 

Still, he loved to tease him every chance he got. And he knew their daughter will do the same.

[captainshazamerica]

I can see why gar is your fave he is an actual angel and he seems to be the only one rooting for the good in jason aside from hank that is but yikes, I'm loving mom kory!!! gar calling dick 'grayson' and telling him off 😅 dick sitting like oh my s*it my son is shouting at me what do I do like his face there hahaa Dick in the vent was so adorable to me and I don't know why I freakin swooned at him crawling through a vent what is wrong with me 😅 I hope blackfire is actually trying to become a titans fam member and doesn't have secret ulterior motives ❤ her and kon was just awww 😊WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED AT TIMS that was a lot of gun shots was it just that one dude that got shot or did he shoot everyone, is tims family okay!? Yoo when tim gets with the titans or bruce he gonna be upset with jason, Jason standing outside listening to the gunshots dude noooo i really hate waiting a week. go babs!!!! I love that she could still hold her own, the dickbabs oh no but at least it was a flashback and not a rekindling what was with that plot of barbara being like I don't just want people to see me as a gordon but I don't wanna work with bruce cuz his rules are basically my father's so I guess I'll go copy selina and steal some shiny stuff just for funsies? Was babs a thief at some point in the comics or did titans just wanna do something surprising I have no clue, I can't wait for Rachel and Donna to come back and I kinda hope they'll be more on gars side in terms of rooting for the best in jason and thinking that he needs to be helped not stopped, I still love that dream thing with Donna it was so cool I hope it comes back up or jason remembers it and donna tells him it was her trying to help him, Kory tryna tell dick about blackfire and hes like nope not listening too busy (I mean I get it) but Richard Grayson will you listen to your wife when she wants to talk to you!! For the next mini mom mission korys gotta bring gar kon and blackfire all in the car with her 💕 how much of that toxin did he give out in Gotham cuz like thats gonna be messy if a bunch of criminals are suddenly fearless all at the same time, Crane is gonna be so fckn mad at Jason maybe that's what will drive him back to titans (I'm being way too optimistic) If jason can make a version of that toxin himself in his own lab place then why does he even need crane anyways, I love how polluted this cranes mind is 🎪

“Ohhh shite that dude was that tims dad!!? 🎪 yo I can't if it was”

AHH I just realized I never responded to this! I am so sorry! My chronic depression decided it was long overdue for an episode this weekend and went hard during that time of month :')

YAS! Gar getting that fan love he DESERVES! Yes to all that! He is just SOOO loyal and that is one of my fav qualities ahhh. And yes! I LOVED how they showed him still all upset about Jason!!! Mom Kori and Dad Dick are my fav things ever omg. Dick always needs to be called out every now and then, and you know its bad when Gar is the one to do it xD But u right, Dick was so confused then troubled by it after, all worried for him ahhh

Omg Dick crawling in the vent xD same though, nothing beats him in that first episode strutting and twirling those escrima sticks omg <3333 Im still swooning over that man xD

Yes! I hope they end up adopting backfire into the titans fam, I love a good dysfunctional sibling on the same team trope, come on titans, do what they didn’t do with Thor and loki and not having them work together more/same team. Omg, Kon was SO PURE ahhh, I love him so much and he needs all the protection against this mean mean world xD

*cries* yeah, that was Tim’s dad D: Cause we can’t have good things in DC’s world and they were like oppp we made Tim too happy, someone gotta die. D:

Jason was looking so bad at the end there, like he got Bucky Barnes Winter Solider level raccoon eyes D: He looked so far gone and lost D: And im scared its just gonna get worse before it gets better D:

Tbh, I was really into that Dickbabs thoooo….. xD I feel like im the only one but they be cute!!!!

I feel like Donna may be on the stopping him side but Rachel would be more on Gar’s side, considering she fights her inner demons all the time and kinda gets it.

Omg yes we need more road trips with Gar, Kon, Kori and Blackfire!

OOOH, omg yes!! Like maybe Crane will get all pissed at Jason and douse him in fear gas and maybe THAT will be a turning point in terms of getting jason to snap out of it? Or contributes to him reconciling with the titans or at the very least going a different direction? hmmm

Right! This Crane is like SO good at a villain, like Im loving it so much

[adverb-slut]

To Be Human (Fanfiction) Part 3/?

Gah, this chapter ended up being really long for some reason, again. Anyways, thank you for your suggestions! I definitely will try to incorporate them into future storylines (perhaps the "demons getting arrested" one pretty soon ... y'know, since Mammon exists.) 

Real quick, here are some things to know about all the chapters from here on out:

Every chapter will begin with a Lucifer-Michael flashback, because he will be a really important character later on, and it's good to have a bit of background on him and how he used to be.

Not every chapter will be from Lucifer's perspective. The first three chapters were from his point of view because I thought his was rather neutral (for the most part) and therefore good for setting up all of these scenes. Anyways, yes, all the brothers will definitely get their time to shine in all of the various plotlines in this story.

As per the usual, here is the link for the chapter on AO3.

Title:

To Be Human

Summary:

When a mysterious force attacks the Devildom and destroys it, the brothers are forced to turn to their Father in the Celestial Realm for answers and assistance. However, the Almighty is still miffed at the seven due to their involvement in the Great Celestial War, and sends them to seek asylum in the one place they have yet to make their mark—the Human World.

Without the help of their beloved MC, the brothers must learn to assimilate into this strange new world, all while trying to figure out who is responsible for the destruction of the Devildom and take back their home.

Rating:

T

Word Count:

5003

Previous Chapter:

Read Chapter 2 here!

-

“Oh, Lucifer!” Michael’s voice reverberated through the House of Great Elation’s kitchen.

Lucifer, who had just been burrowing through the ill-stocked cabinets for something to eat, called back, “What now?”

“Look what I’ve got!” Michael exclaimed.  He pranced into the kitchen, holding a blond, baby angel over his head.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  Typically, when Father created His angels, they were fully grown, so that as soon as they were birthed, they could immediately begin their duties.  However, sometimes, when He was feeling spontaneous, the Almighty created angels that were mere infants, granting them the greatest gift of all time—the ability to grow up and have a childhood.  

Of course, as angels were infinitely busy creatures, there usually was no one available to parent them, and the baby angels oftentimes were brought up collectively by the entire Celestial Realm—that is, unless a specific angel volunteered to rear them.  

With that, a terrible thought dawned on Lucifer as he watched Michael rifle through the kitchen drawers with the child clinging on his back.

“Michael,” Lucifer began carefully, “why do you have that?”

“He’s cute, right?  A regular cherub!” sung Michael cheerfully, and it was not lost on Lucifer that he had avoided the question.  “Father gave him the name of Luke!”

Lucifer ran a hand down his face.  “Please, don’t tell me you’ve adopted him or something.”

“Then I won’t tell you anything.” Michael beamed.  He wrangled the baby Luke off of his back after procuring a frosted manna cake from the drawer and handing it to him.  

Luke cooed, an enormous, toothless grin growing on his face as he sucked the icing off of the cake.  He pat Michael’s shoulder playfully as if to show his appreciation.  

Lucifer watched, unamused at the interaction.  “Michael.”  The other angel ignored him, utterly absorbed in the baby’s itty bitty socks to pay any attention to his housemate.  “Michael, look at me.  I understand that this infant is cute, but you’re an Archangel—not to mention the General of the Heavenly Legions.  You’re at the barracks or down in the Human World, all day; there’s no way you can take care of a baby.”

Michael stared at Lucifer, his golden eyes widening for maximum cuteness.  “C’mon now, Luci, don’t be such a sourpuss.  Here, you hold him.  Once you see how cute and adorable and perfect he is, you’ll definitely want to keep him, too.”

Lucifer shook his head adamantly at the offer, but Michael wouldn’t take no for an answer and shoved Luke into his arms, anyway.  

He raised an eyebrow at the baby, who just a minute before, had been nursing Michael’s thumb and his cake, giggling happily.  Now, cradled in Lucifer’s arms, the child was silent and stared at him, appearing to size up the older angel.  A moment later, he closed his eyes with a pretentious air, stuck his teeny tiny nose in the air, and magnanimously offered Lucifer his now-soggy manna cake.  

“Thank you,” Lucifer replied stiffly, “but I’ll pass.”  He sighed when the baby hmphed and went back to sucking on his treat.  It appeared that the child wasn’t too fussy, and it especially seemed to get along with Michael.  Nevertheless, could the laid-back Angel of Destruction really be trusted to take care of something so tiny and helpless?  He did have a penchant for accidentally destroying things …   

Michael, who had seen the dubious stare on Lucifer’s face, reasoned, “Don’t look at me like that, Luci.  I’ll bring him to the barracks with me every day, and Simeon even volunteered to watch him on days I have to go down to the Human World!  You won’t even have to see him!”

“The fact that I have to see him isn’t the issue,” Lucifer assured.  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  Simeon was an infinitely more responsible angel, and knowing that he was looking after Luke, too, was reassuring.  He groaned.  “Fine … I guess you can keep him here in the House of Great Elation.”

The Angel of Destruction clapped his hands gleefully.  “Yes!  You won’t regret it, I prom—” 

However, his celebration was cut short, when Luke, who had realized that he had licked off all the sugary frosting on his manna cake and was left with a sodden biscuit, began wailing.  

Lucifer could only raise an eyebrow as Michael sheepishly whisked the baby away from him, and put a finger over his lips to hush him.  

“Shh!  Shh!”  The angel noticed the offending manna cake in Luke’s hand and his eyes lit up.  “Oh, so you like sweets, do you?”  He perched the baby over his shoulder and began to walk out the door.  “Well, here, I’ll take you to Simeon’s—he makes this amazing dessert called ‘Simeon Rolls.”  They’re like spirals of baked dough with, like, an absolutely divine cinnamon filling and they’re covered in this icing stuff that you seem to like so much!  We kind of lost the recipe to humans—they’re dumb and took his name out of the title and call them “Cinnamon Rolls,” but the original Celestial Realm recipe is …”  His voice trailed off as the door shut behind him. 

Lucifer shook his head and smiled, turning back to pilfer once again through the cabinets for a snack.  Perhaps it was good that Luke had found Michael.  

After all, this child seemed to be one of the first angels who weren’t absolutely petrified of the Angel of Destruction. 

-

“God is dead,” Asmodeus glowered, “because I’m going to kill Him.”

Satan cleared his throat.  “In that case, God will be dead, since you haven’t killed Him yet.”  He stared at the structure before them and frowned.  “But let me know when you do, because I want in on that action, too.”

“A hovel!” Mammon wailed. “He wants us to live in a hovel!”

Lucifer shook his head at his brothers’ tendency to overdramatize things.  However, as he turned his head to the house that their Father had chosen for them, he decided that for once, maybe, their theatrics were warranted.

The edifice that stood before them was paltry, compact—almost shoebox-like—with no decorative (or even functional) exterior furnishings that could draw anyone’s attention.  It was if the house, too, was ashamed of its meagerness, and had tucked itself away to be as inconspicuous as possible.  Lucifer would have been less surprised had this building been a stable for his Father’s Royal Steeds, rather than a home for seven adult males.  

“You’re sure that this is the place?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Simeon, who had been relieved of his duties for a spell to deliver the brothers to their new home in the Human World.

Simeon nodded sheepishly.  “Yes, this is it.”  He read the address from the paper of information that Father had given him, before slipping it into his pocket.  “35 West Orville Court, Cedar Bridge, Wisconsin.”

Leviathan scratched his head.  “Please tell me that we’re somewhere in Japan.  It’d be so cool to actually live in the country that some of my favorite anime and manga took place.”

“Unfortunately, no, Levi,” Simeon apologized.  “We’re actually in the United States of America.”

Lucifer sighed.  “It doesn’t matter where we are.  What matters right now is that there’s no way that all seven of us can share that small of a house.”  The other demons chorused their agreement.    

While he most certainly loved his brothers, he shuddered at the prospect of living in such close quarters with them.  Back in the massive House of Lamentation, everyone was usually off doing their own thing; the only time they convened as a family was to eat meals.  If this house was really as small as it appeared on the outside, then he would have to see his brothers with sickening regularity (perhaps “sickening” was a strong word, but …).

“I’m hungry,” Beel muttered.  “Is there any food inside?”

Simeon looked thoughtful.  “I’m not sure, but since we’re going to have to go inside anyway, let’s go check.”  

“I can’t wait to see if the inside matches the outside in sheer stupidity,” said Belphie, rolling his eyes as the group followed Simeon to the dull gray front door of the house.

The seven demons and angel huddled at the entrance, where Simeon fiddled with his pocket until he procured a single key.  He handed it to Lucifer.  “You’re the oldest.  You do the honors.”

Lucifer blanched.  Only one key?  The first order of business was definitely going to a locksmith to get copies made.  Shaking his head, he took the key, inserted it into the lock, and turned, revealing unto them the inside of the house that their Father had “graciously” granted them.  

As soon as he saw the interior, his eye twitched, and he had nothing to say but, “Who would like to go back to the Celestial Realm and kill a god for me?”

Ignoring the chorus of “me’s,” that came from the group, Simeon shook his head and spread his hand over the entrance.  “Don’t condemn it before you’ve set a foot inside!  Here, let’s take a tour.  And try not to judge the décor too harshly—some of the Junior Guardian Angels were in charge of the design and they were on a budget.” 

“No kiddin.’” Mammon grumbled as Simeon led them across the threshold.  “This place is the pits.”

Lucifer had to agree.  The interior of the house from where he could see was sparsely furnished and the yellowish-white of the amenities gave everything a dingy air.

No sooner had they all stepped into the orange-carpeted entryway—which was so small that it could hardly fit the eight of them—Simeon took a sharp right.

“Since you mentioned you were hungry, Beel, this is the kitchen.”  Simeon gestured around the tiny room.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  This was it?  There was barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably, and there were hardly any appliances: simply a stove and a refrigerator, which Beel immediately rushed to.

“This is the smallest fridge I’ve ever met,” Beel sighed.  His frown grew even deeper as he pulled the door open, revealing it to be completely empty.  He looked down at his growling stomach, a fire raging in his eyes.  “Father will pay.” 

“Oh dear, I figured that’d be the case.  It looks like you seven are going to have to do your first round of human grocery shopping soon,” mused Simeon, looking at the unfilled fridge.  “But more on that later.  In the meantime,” he pulled out from his pocket another manna cake for Beel, “here you go.”

Beel stared at the angel dreamily as he took the cake.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

Simeon merely laughed as he walked deeper into the kitchen, which opened up to a dining room of sorts.  Lucifer assumed that the room had been built for a smaller table rather than the massive one that could seat the seven of them which resided in it now.  He wrinkled his nose at the water-stained wood that they were to dine on and the understuffed yellow cushions that adorned the dining chairs.

After several scathing remarks on the abysmal state of the décor from Asmo, Simeon led the group past the petite dining room into the living area.

“At least there’s a computer.”  Levi pointed to a laptop that sat on a comically enormous desk and shook his head sadly.  “Although I don’t think it’s the kind you can game on.”

Next to the desk were two mismatching sofas that looked as if they’d been plucked out of the Victorian era, and across from them was a dark brown TV stand with an old, boxy TV.

“What year do those Junior Guardians think it is?” Satan demanded, poking the television suspiciously.  “Half of this stuff belongs in a different century!”

“Like I said,” Simeon replied sheepishly.  “They were on a budget.  Come on, now, let’s go see the rest of the house.”

“I don’t know if I wanna,” muttered Mammon.  “‘Cause if it’s anythin’ like what we just saw, it’s gonna be C-R-A-P—crap.”

Lucifer silently agreed with the secondborn as Simeon now took them down a hall attached to the living room.  On the right side of the hallway was a single door, which Simeon explained to them was a closet.  To the left were two more doors, one of which was a paltry laundry room (it simply consisted of a washing machine and a dryer stacked atop each other) and the other, a bathroom.  

Asmodeus screamed when he saw the smallness of it, and there was a collective tantrum when Simeon said that it was the only bathroom in the house and that they would all have to share it.  

The biggest offender of the house was the room that haunted the end of the hall—the bedroom. 

 Singular.

“How nice of the Junior Guardians to line up seven twin beds for all of us,” Belphie deadpanned.

Lucifer blanched.  From the outside, he had known that the house was small, but not so small that all seven brothers would have to share a room.  

He’d always accredited the seminormal peace in the House of Lamentation to the fact that each brother had had their own space, whether it be to cool off from an argument in, or just relax and take some time for themself.  In this house, there was no such space, and he could already envision the cesspool of conflict that their home would become.

“I’d rather live in the burning Tartarus that is the Devildom than here,” Satan decided.

Lucifer nodded.  “I know that we’re supposed to be demons, but Father is the real demon for expecting us to live in this shed.”

“I say,” said Mammon, “that we go back to the Devildom, anyway, and see if the House of Lamentation is still standin.’” 

Simeon shook his head.  “Going back to the Devildom is impossible right now.  Because of this whole mess, Father’s shut down the border indefinitely.”

“Well, tell Him that we’re not staying here,” growled Asmodeus.  “We’re just going to have to get a bigger house.”

Again, Simeon shook his head.  “Don’t you see?  Father chose this place on purpose.”

“And what kind of purpose would that be?” snapped Belphie.  “To torture us?”

Simeon let out a body-shaking groan.  “Everyone, please sit down.”  He walked over to the dining table, and the brothers followed him begrudgingly.  “Take a seat.”

“These chairs aren’t too comfy,” Beel noticed, shifting back and forth in his seat.

“No kiddin,’” agreed Mammon.  “My poor rear end!” 

Leviathan rolled his eyes.  “You guys are weak!  I’ve sat in gaming chairs far less comfortable than this for hours! ”

“Why is he proud of this?” whispered Satan to Asmo.

Before Levi could snark a reply,  Lucifer hushed them by clearing his throat.  “If I recall, Simeon had something important to tell us.”  He gestured toward the angel, who nodded and pulled out the letter he had earlier from his pocket, as well as an envelope.  

“So first and foremost, I need you seven to fill out these forms.”  From the envelope, Simeon procured seven folded sheets of paper and handed them, as well as a pen to Lucifer.  “It’s just some information about your human persona.  From that, the Celestial Realm will have bank accounts and credit cards opened in your name, as well as ID cards made.  There’s only one pen—sorry—so, Lucifer, why don’t you just fill everything out?  We’ll start with that.”

“Okay,” said Lucifer, pulling out a form.  The first line asked for his “full legal name.”  As he was about to pen down, “Lucifer,” Simeon stopped him.

“Lucifer isn’t a common name in the Human World,” Simeon said.  “Perhaps just write ‘Lucius.’  That name is also not incredibly common, but at least it won’t get you as many strange looks.  And maybe as your surname put … eh—I’m not sure, actually.  You all need to have the same last name, so I suggest doing that last.”

Lucifer nodded and wrote what the angel suggested down.  The next few questions were simple—his height, his weight, allergies, blood type, medical conditions, and the like.  He filled out the form with ease and handed it to Simeon.  “Now for yours, Mammon.”  

The secondborn demon nodded.  “I want my name to be written down as ‘The Great Mammon.’”

After a round of groans from the demons, Simeon laughed and said, “Again, that’s not a human name—or at least, not an American one.”  Simeon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “What about ‘Marvin?’  It kind of sounds like ‘Mammon.’”

Mammon groaned.  “Ugh, that’s gotta be one of the lamest names, ever.  Why do I gotta have a name that sounds like ‘Mammon,’ anyways?”

Lucifer could see the logic behind the name, and answered, “That way, if we ever have to go out in public, it’ll be easier for us to remember what our ‘human name’ is if it sounds like our demon one.”

“Not that it matters for Mammon, ‘cause who’d want to go out in public with him, anyway?” snickered Asmo. 

Mammon, whose face had turned a beet red, shook his fist at his brother and reached over the table toward him.  “Wait ‘till I get my hands on you, Asmo, I’m gonn— ”

“—And now it’s Levi’s turn!” announced Simeon cheerfully.  “I suggest just keeping his name as ‘Levi,’ as that’s not too uncommon in this realm.”

Leviathan’s bottom lip trembled.  “You—you mean I can’t have a cool Japanese name like, like, Sasuke or—or—Ichigo?”

Lucifer stifled a smile as Simeon put his hand on Levi’s shoulder and said, “There, there.  Think about it, Levi; ‘Sasuke’ and ‘Ichigo’ don’t sound much like your real name, do they?  Why not make it easier on your brothers to remember and just keep your name as is?”

Leviathan consented by putting his hands over his face, muttering, “Why did I have to be named ‘Levi?’”

Lucifer pat his shoulder consolingly before flipping to the next sheet.  “Okay, Satan, your turn.”

The fourthborn demon crossed his arms and simply answered, “I’m keeping my name as ‘Satan.’  I’m not ashamed of it and don’t think it's necessary to assume an identity that I don’t have.”

Simeon smiled tolerantly.  “‘Nathan,’ it is.”

Satan’s face turned an unholy shade of red as he opened his mouth to berate the angel, but Lucifer cut in smoothly, “‘Nathan’ is good—sounds like ‘Satan.’  Next is Asmo.”

“I—I’m not goi—I refuse—no … ‘Nathan?!’” was all Satan could screech before Asmo chirped, “I’d like to be called ‘Adonis.’”  When the group simply stared at him, he gestured toward Levi, rolling his eyes.  “Oh, like ‘Sasuke’ was any better.  At least mine makes sense!”  He flipped his hair.  “I am the handsome Adonis of this group, after all.”

Satan, who had yet to recover from being given his new human name, darkly muttered, “Hopefully you get gutted by a wild boar like your namesake, as well.”

Ignoring Satan’s spiel, Simeon and Lucifer shared a look, before the eldest demon shrugged and wrote Asmo’s name of choice down.

Simeon turned toward Beelzebub and Belphegor.  “I’m sorry.  At the moment I can’t think of any human names that are similar to yours.”  He pointed behind them to the computer table.  “Perhaps you’d like to look some names up?  The internet is already connected—simply click the red-green-yellow circle icon and a screen with a search bar should pop up.”  

As the two meandered off to find suitable names for themselves, Simeon took the other forms that Lucifer had already filled out and reviewed them.  He nodded before handing them all back to him  “These look good, but Lucifer, you need to change all these allergies—more than half of the foods and plants listed here are all from the Devildom.  And ‘regurgitated by a giant sea monster pet and experiences minor movement issues’ has to go.  Getting eaten by a Kraken isn’t something most humans would live through, much less survive long enough to experience medical issues from.”

"It's a real issue!" Leviathan pouted.  "It's the only reason I'm bad at sports, I swear!"

Lucifer nodded, ignoring his brother.  He’d filled out dozens of forms for his brothers back in the Devildom, and he had just written in the information on these sheets as he had then.  He hadn’t stopped to think that not only would the names have to be adjusted to fit human standards, but the actual data, as well. 

As he took the papers back from Simeon, the angel raised an eyebrow and added, “And I’d change your and everyone else’s birthdays, as well.  While June sixth is a fine date of birth, the year ‘when the universe was first spoken into being’ isn’t … entirely possible for a human.”

“Then what year are we s'posed to put, then?” Mammon asked, holding up his hands in confusion.�� “Besides Satan, we were all born around that time.”

Simeon hummed thoughtfully.  “Subtract thirty years from the current year and then choose from that range a birthyear that symbolizes which order you were ‘born’ in.”

“I see.”  Lucifer kind of wanted to ask the angel how exactly old he thought he looked when he chose the number thirty but decided to not put him on the spot, considering how helpful he was being.  He corrected the last of the completed documents and turned to Beel and Belphie, who were still huddled over the laptop screen.  “If you two aren’t done yet, I’m coming over there.”

“It’s okay, I’ve made my decision,” Beel said.  He turned to his brothers and announced, “My human name should be ‘Oreo.’”

A buzz of agreement went up from the seven demons, but Simeon stared at the group with a confused air.  “‘Oreo?’  I’m not sure that’s a human name.  In fact, I believe it’s a brand of cookie, as well as a common name for pets.”

Beel shook his head.  “It can’t be.  I typed in ‘good names’ in the search bar and that’s one of the names that showed up.”  

“And it looks like the computer auto-populated your search with ‘good names for dogs, ’” Levi, who had meandered over to the twins, read off of the computer.

“Aw, Beel, you’re just a great big puppy dog, aren’t ya?” Mammon laughed.

Beel looked down and muttered, “I didn’t know it was a dog name.”  He turned back to the screen to do another search and read one of the first names that popped up.  “How about … ‘Eli?’”

Asmo nodded.  “It has the same long e sound as ‘Beelzebub.’”

“‘Eli’ it is, then,” Lucifer decided, writing down the name.  He looked up at the seventhborn demon.  “And you, Belphie?”

“I don’t want any stupid human name,” Belphie said defiantly, staring at his eldest brother in challenge.

Lucifer put his palm to his face.  Why did he always intend to be so difficult?  “If you don’t choose a name, Belphegor, I’ll choose for you.”  When Belphie didn’t respond, Lucifer turned to Simeon.  “What’s the worst human name you can think of?”

“Any normal name spelled with ‘e-i-g-h,’” Simeon answered immediately.  

Lucifer nodded.  “That sounds terrible.”  He penned it down as Belphegor’s first name and turned to the rest of the group.  “It’s time to choose a surname.”

“How about LuciferNeedsToDie?” suggested Belphie, who glowered at the firstborn.

Satan grinned deviously.  “I second that.”

“I’ll agree to it only if we change it to LuciferIsAnEvilLord,” said Levi.

Lucifer shot his brothers a look.  “If you continue to talk like that, I’ll show you just how much of an ‘evil lord’ I can really be.”

“I have a suggestion,” Beel announced, still scrolling through the computer.  “Maybe a good last name would be ‘Daemon.’  It means ‘demon’ in Latin.”  

Lucifer tested the word on his tongue.  “‘Daemon.’  I like it.”

“A little obvious,” admitted Simeon, “but it’s not the worst.”  He took the last of the forms Lucifer handed him and the brothers watched in interest as he pulled out a few more items from the envelope.  “A few last things before I go.”  He handed Lucifer a shiny black card, pointedly ignoring the dreamy look Mammon gave it.  “This is my personal debit card for when I’m in the Human World.  It’s currently loaded with five hundred dollars for you seven to buy groceries for yourselves.”

“Five hundred?” Mammon exclaimed, his tan face paling.  “That’s not gonna buy as anythin!’”  

Asmodeus’ brow furrowed in worry.  “For once, I agree with the scumbag.  We’d be lucky to get even a cheap bottle of hand lotion.”

Lucifer shook his head.  His Father had said that He’d send them “provisions,” but he supposed that he should’ve known that Father wouldn’t be much help.  He felt the pit of anger in his stomach grow; how incredibly typical of the Almighty.  How in the world were the brothers supposed to make ends meet with this meager an amount of money?

“Please don’t spend my money on hand lotion, Asmo,” Simeon pleaded.  “It’s for food only, right now.  And don’t worry, lambs, the only reason why it appears I’ve given so little is that U.S dollars are worth a lot more than Grimm.  One dollar is equivalent to twenty thousand Grimm.” 

“So … essentially you’ve given us ten million Grimm?” Satan asked, his eyes widening.  “Simply for groceries?”

“Are you crazy?” Belphegor demanded.  “That’s not going to feed Beel for very long.”

Beel nodded in agreement.  “It’s true.”

“See, we in the Celestial Realm knew that your group of seven would have quite a few expenses, which is why Father chose for you such a small house.  He’s already paid for it so all you need to pay is property taxes and utilities, both of which will be quite low in a house this small in suburban Wisconsin.  That way, once you begin to start working and making money, as little of your income as possible will go toward the house.”  Simeon pushed the debit card closer toward Lucifer, who pocketed it before Mammon could snatch it.  “Father trusted you seven enough that you’d be able to find your way in this world, so the five hundred dollars is simply a gift from me.”’

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  Could it really be that their Father had had their best interests at heart in assigning them this hovel?

The brothers sat in silence for a moment at Simeon’s words, before Asmo wondered, “Okay, I get the whole I-made-My-sons-live-in-an-actual-shack part, but if Father’s so amazing and wonderful, why doesn’t He make us live in an actually nice house, considering He’s supposed to be the ‘King of Kings’ and can do whatever He wants?”

“And how come he’s not actually supportin’ us?  Financially, I mean,” added Mammon.

Simeon laughed.  “Would you have accepted His help if He had?”

“Absolutely not.”  There wasn’t a note of hesitation in Lucifer’s voice.  His animosity toward his Father had subsided somewhat during this whole debacle but he would never forget the Almighty’s unfeeling and dead eyes as He hurled him and his siblings out of the Celestial Realm.

“I expected as much,” said Simeon, nodding.  “Anyways, here, taking Beel into account, I’ve composed a list of cheap but healthy grocery items to buy when you go shopping.  Some of the ingredients are already ones you’ve used in the Devildom, but there are some delicious new ones for you to try, as well.  Additionally, later in the week, I’ll come by and drop off an estimate of all the bills you’ll have to pay, as well as the credit and ID cards I promised earlier.”

“Simeon, how is it that you’re so knowledgeable of things in the Human World?” asked Satan.  “I thought all you did nowadays was guard the gates.”

Simeon smiled sadly.  “Back when I was an Archangel, I’d come down here, posing as a human, to direct and advise my little lambs.”  He gestured toward the debit card, which stuck out of Lucifer’s pocket.  “I’ve kept in touch with all the trends and changes going on in this world, should … Father ever reinstate unto me my former position.”

Out of respect for Simeon, the group bowed their heads and maintained silence for several moments, before Lucifer spoke up.  “Regardless of your status, thank you for helping us through this change, Simeon.  We’re all very grateful.” He turned toward his brothers with a stern look.  “Aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Mammon began, and the other five chorused their agreement.

“You’re very welcome.” The angel beamed.  He handed Lucifer the prospective grocery list, as well as another sheet of paper.  “This is simply a record of some potential jobs for the seven of you to take up, as well as some phone numbers to call.”

Simeon began to walk out the door, leaving the brothers to their own devices, but before he could shut the door behind him, Belphegor called out, “Wait—how are we gonna call those numbers?  I’m gonna assume our D.D.Ds don’t pick up any human cell service and besides, they’re all dead, and we didn’t get a chance to pack their chargers.”

The angel’s smile was strangely cryptic as he replied, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention.  Your mobile phones will be coming later in the week.  For now, use the landline that’s on the desk.  As for cell service—and internet also—it’s being provided and paid for by the Celestial Realm’s own private company.”  Without another word, he shut the door behind him.  

“Huh,” Mammon said.  “The Celestial Realm goin’ capitalist.  Never thought I’d see the day.”

Satan rubbed his chin.  “It’s pretty nice that they’ve decided to give us all that free of charge.”  He paused for effect.  “Almost too nice.”

“Guys,” Levi began, biting his nails nervously, “did anyone consider the fact that because the Celestial Realm’s gonna be providing us with their own internet and cell service that they might be able to spy on us?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the realization.

That … was a terrifyingly real possibility.  

He groaned.  Just when he thought his Father had relinquished some of His control-freak tendencies.  

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part eight Word count:  ±4800 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part eight: Zoë meets with Terry Cliffer, or is it the shapeshifter? She tries to find out fast, but can’t prevent bullets from flying. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Greenday. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Zoë sips her cappuccino as she observes the foam floating on top of her hot drink. She’s at Beetle’s, sitting on a stool at the bar. Cigarette smoke fills the air, and even though she would love to light one, she ignores the smell. Instead the huntress stares at the bottles across from the counter, exhibited on the shelves, the back wall is a mirror to create the illusion that they have a lot more drinks in store. It’s a modern kind of place, the only history it shows are some pictures, pinned to the wall. The current number one hit Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday plays in the background. She listens to the lyrics, the song appealing to her.      I walk this empty street, on the boulevard of broken dreams      Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone      My shadow's the only one that walks beside me      My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating      Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me      'Til then I walk alone

     The long nights are taking their toll. Although strangers still see a stunning young woman, she herself notices the signs of fatigue in her reflection, despite her makeup, that is a little more prominent than usual. Zoë finds it thrilling to pretend to be someone she’s not. She traded her leather biker outfit for a white blouse, a black blazer, matching suit pants and pumps. Her straightened dark hair is combed back and tied together in a bun. It’s funny, leather or business, she still gives away the same message; don’t mess with me. 

     Her eyes capture the bottle of Johnny Walker Red again. She would kill for a glass, but having a shot wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. Focus is the issue here; no way she’s letting her guard down. The damn bastard shot her once and she doesn’t feel like peeling a bullet out of herself for the second time today. But one glass wouldn’t hurt, right? Zoë shakes her head, deciding against it.           This appointment can go two ways: either the shapeshifter shows up and this bar and its customers are going to have the most ‘exciting’ evening of their lives, or Terry Cliffer shows up and this will be nothing more than a boring interrogation. Not to mention, this case will once again take longer than anticipated, because by now, the fucker could’ve easily shifted into someone else already. 

     She finishes her coffee and leaves the empty cup on the bar. Carefully, she glances over her shoulder. Zoë can’t put her finger on it, but she can feel a pair of eyes burning in her back; someone’s watching her. The shapeshifter maybe? She remembers Sam’s words and realizes that even if she meets Cliffer within fifteen minutes, the son of a bitch might actually be here right now. Suddenly, she hears something sweeping towards her over the wooden bartop. Startled, she turns to the bartender, who still has his hand folded around a glass of whiskey.      “You’ve been eying that Johnny Walker bottle for twenty minutes and you look really tense. You need a drink, on the house.”

     She looks him in the eye, trying to decide whether or not to trust him. She smiles politely and takes the glass, but doesn’t drink, just yet.      “Thank you,” she says, observing him. “You’re the owner of this place? Rob Michaels?”      “That’s me,” Rob answers while he polishes a glass.      We’ll see about that, Zoë thinks to herself. The bartender could be the shapeshifter, for all she knows. She needs to figure out if he is, without giving him the impression that she’s suspecting him.      “Then you probably know most of your regulars, right?” she questions.      “Right…” Rob hesitates. “Am I being questioned?”      “Whatever you wanna call it,” she flashes him her FBI identification.

     He raises his eyebrows. He thought there was something more to her than just a businesswoman who’s getting a drink after work, but a fed? He had city police over, even state police at one point, this is a new one. He leans in for her to hear his whispered words.      “Something shady going on in my bar?” he asks, looking around for anything suspicious.      She puts her ID away in the inside pocket of her blazer, after which she folds her hands together, ignoring his question. “What do you know about Terry Cliffer?”            Rob chuckles. “Are you kidding me? Terry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”      “We’re not just around to catch the bad guys, Mr. Michaels. We actually intend to prevent crimes from happening, too” she states, pretending to be insulted.      “Is he in trouble?” the bar owner wonders.      “I think I’m the one who’s doing the questioning here, Rob. Can I call you Rob?” Zoë grabs a hold of the conversation again, not impressed.      “S-sure,” he answers, intimidated.      She glances at the clock, it’s 5:55. Then she continues.      “Tell me what you know.”

     Zoë’s eyes are penetrating, yet calm and the bartender soon begins his story, but he doesn’t start off with anything new. Shy guy, father of two, yada yada yada. Her thoughts wander off to the whiskey bottle on the shelf again, as she partly listens. Shit, she wants that heavenly brown liquor, and she wants it bad. Although there’s a full glass in front of her, she still refuses to drink it. Zoë hasn’t actually seen him rinse the glass, nor if he poured the whiskey straight from the bottle; it could be spiked. The huntress contemplates on dragging him over the counter and cutting him; if he screams out in terror, he’s not the shifter, if he doesn’t, he is. Yeah, maybe not such a great idea, Zo, she thinks to herself. And all this time she keeps staring at the Johnny Walker Red.

     “He moved into town a few years back with his family. I believe he still owns some property about a mile or three out, though. Somewhere on 110th Ave,” Rob says with a lowered voice.      Suddenly there’s the sound of glass breaking. The bartender turns around and is surprised to find the bottle of whiskey in pieces on the floor.      “Ah, damn it! Must have left it too close to the edge,” he mutters as he kneels down to pick up the biggest pieces of shattered glass.      Startled, Zoë stares over the bar, recapturing what just happened. Did she just… Ah shit, not this again.      “That’s a shame,” she comments to break the silence.      “Sure is,” he agrees, but then pulls his hand back with a little screech. “Ow!”      He gets up and Zoë immediately detects the bleeding cut on his finger, which causes Rob to hiss in pain. A shapeshifter wouldn’t feel a thing when being cut by glass; so much for her theory. As if she was waiting for the lights to go green on a racetrack, she puts the glass to her mouth and lets the whiskey ooze down her throat. My God, she so needed a drink. 

     In the meantime Rob takes off to the kitchen, probably to bandage the cut. It’s when the door closes behind him, that his last words sink in. 110th Ave! Cliffer owned land there? She quickly gets her ducks in a row. She knows O’Brien, Middleton and Gibson, the missing people, have all been at 110th Avenue over the last month, but no one actually owned a place there. This might be a major lead! Why didn’t she learn about this sooner? She has to find the exact address and pay a visit as soon as she’s done here. 

     As the place gets more crowded during these after work hours, Terry Cliffer walks in. Zoë straightens her back and looks over the crowd. Insecure, the guy in his mid-forties searches the place, then he carefully approaches the bar. He’s not a tall man and he seems thin. It surprises Zoë that the shapeshifter chose his body to copy in the first place.       He glances behind the bar, probably looking for Rob to ask if there has been anyone around looking for him. By this time, Zoë has hopped off the bar stool and walked up to the guy. Her gun, loaded with silver bullets, hangs from her belt and burns in her flesh through the fabric of her dress pants. If he attacks, runs, or does something else that she doesn’t like, she’s going to shoot him.            “Terry Cliffer?”      He turns around and looks her in the eye. Not a sign of recognition. The shapeshifter would recognize her, after all, she is the one hunting him. Nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary happens, he just puts out his hand to greet her.      “Are you the FBI agent?” he assumes, carefully.      “That would be me, yeah,” she takes out her federal agent identification again. “Shall we take a seat?”      They move to a table in the far corner and sit down. A good spot, one she picked out the moment she walked in. From here, she has a clear view over the entire place, yet it’s private. She signals Rob, who probably took care of his little problem and is back behind his bar. In a few seconds he halts next to their table.

     “What can I get you?” he takes out a pen and a small notebook.      “A beer, if that’s okay?” Terry glances at the woman across from the table.      “Be my guest,” she approves and looks up at Rob. “Plain water please.”      “Oh, and can I get something to eat? I didn’t actually get the chance to have dinner, yet.” The last sentence was more directed to Zoë than to the bar owner, excusing himself again in that self-conscious way.      “The usual?” the owner of the place asks.       Terry nods.      “Anything else?” Rob glances from one to the other.      “No, I think we’re fine,” Zoë answers.      “Okay then, coming right up.”

     Rob leaves the table and finally Zoë can start her conversation. She begins with an attempt to break the ice, since Terry seems to be pretty tense. It’s not every day that you have a one-on-one with an FBI agent.      “Not planning to have supper with your family?” she assumes.      “Not today, my wife took the kids to their grandparents for the week, down in Preston,” Terry tells her.      Good, they are safe, Zoë notes. She folds her hands together leaning on her forearms on the edge of the table, ready to start the interrogation, but Terry beats her to it.      “I don’t want to be rude, but I expected to meet a man today,” he admits with a nervous laugh.      “Right, I heard you talked to my partner. He called in sick,” she makes up quickly.       “It was really odd, he didn’t know your name,” Terry tells her. “For a moment, I thought I was being pranked or something.”

     Uh-oh. Is he suspecting something? She has to come up with something good now to keep a good impression.      “I actually got married a week ago,” she lets a smile play on her lips, turning her mother’s engagement ring on her finger, drawing attention to the piece of jewelry.       “I changed surnames. What can I say, he doesn’t like change.”      “Congratulations!” Terry smiles back, seemingly buying it.      Pfew, that was a close call. Now it’s her turn to ask some questions, because all she has been doing during the last five minutes is covering the Winchester’s fuck ups. Just as she takes a breath to begin, Rob shows up next to the table with their drinks and a cutlery set for Terry. Zoë lets out an annoyed sigh and looks away.

     “One beer and plain water.”      He puts down the glasses from his dinner-tray, which he holds up with his left hand. As he sets down Terry’s beer, the meat knife slips from the plate and falls, the sharp edge pointing down. Zoë looks up just in time to see the knife penetrate the hand of the man she’s about to negotiate. She almost lets out a moan of disgust, but strangely enough, Terry doesn’t even notice it until he glances at his hand.      “Terry, Jesus Christ! I’m so sorry, it - it just fell off!” Rob stammers, but neither of them hear him.      It’s not a silver knife, it’s stainless steel, Zoë realizes instantly. Slowly the person  - no - creature, on the other side of the table lifts his head until he looks directly at her. His facial expression is no longer insecure and friendly, but self-confident and sadistic. For a brief moment his eyes flash white, as the eyes of a cat reflect when it stares into a pair of headlights.

     “You son of a--”      There’s no time to finish her sentence. In a split second, the shapeshifter draws his gun and Zoë is just in time to flip the metal table over on the side. She goes for her Smith & Wesson as well, as the shapeshifter backs up, causing his chair to fall over. Several people turn around to see what’s going on as Rob turns pale and steps back. Just before he unleashes a bullet on her, she shouts a warning.      “Everybody on the floor!”            As screams are let out by people inside the bar, the shifter fires two bullets at her, but by using the steel table as a shield, she stays unharmed.      “No way you’re gonna shoot me twice, fucker,” she snarls as she aims her gun over the edge of the table and pulls the trigger.      Making sure not to injure any civilians, Zoë fires three shots in a row. She’s not sure if any of them hit the target, but he’s still running.      “Fuck!” she curses as the third shot shatters the glass of the front door.

     Quickly, she follows and intends to run outside. Good thing she takes cover behind the doorpost as she glances around the corner, because the huntress stares right into a barrel. Just in time, she retreats and the two bullets shoot by her. Stumbling back inside, she takes a short second to catch her breath with her back against the wall and her gun tightly gripped in both hands and pointing it down. Several frightened and panicked eyes look straight at the FBI impersonator. One face stands out, Rob stares at her as if he just saw a ghost.      “I hope you’ve got insurance, Rob,” she comments, out of breath from all the excitement.      He nods his head, dumbfounded, unable to get a proper ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of his mouth.      “Good, have a nice evening. Sorry ‘bout the mess.” She smiles uncomfortably and gives him an awkward wave.

      After gathering her courage, the huntress exits the bar. With the gun pointing ahead and her index finger off the trigger, Zoë clears the area, but there’s no one there but a bunch of thrill seekers who probably heard the gunshots. Zoë lets out a sigh and lowers her nine mil; she’s back to square one. There’s no need to follow him, he could be anywhere and anyone by now. She moves back to the small alleyway next to the bar where she parked her Harley, still expecting an ambush behind every corner. When she walks up the street, she notices a shiny fluid on the sidewalk, which catches her attention. Curious she kneels down and touches it with the tip of her finger; it’s blood. A grin appears on her face; looks like she managed to hit him after all. 

     When she looks further she notices a blood trail leading to a manhole in the center of the alley. The shifter left the cover off, allowing the huntress to stare down into the black depth.      “Hope my bullet hurts as much as yours did, fucking lizard!” she bellows down.      Zoë gets up and makes her way to the Harley, thinking through her next move and forcing herself to focus, even though the adrenaline is still rushing through her body. Terry Cliffer’s property at 110th Avenue; that is her first priority. She would bet money on it: this has to be the location of the shapeshifter’s lair.

     It’s quiet in the parking lot when Zoë pulls up to the motel, but she doesn't pay much attention to the silence, determined to close this case tonight. She rushes inside while taking her helmet off, doesn’t bother to pay attention to the man behind the counter and quickly opens the door to her room. Her Macbook is still buzzing softly and as soon as she presses a key, the screen activates. She selects a tracking website from her favorites and types in the information she has. After several seconds a complete address shows: 3841 110th Avenue NW. Quickly she kicks off her pumps, changes her dress pants for jeans and her blazer for the new leather Harley Davidson jacket. As she’s lacing up her biker boots, when three loud bangs on the door startle her. Cautious, the huntress takes her gun in her left hand, finger still off the trigger, and silently approaches the door.      “Mrs. Johnson! I know you’re in there!”            She recognizes that voice, it’s the owner of the motel. Quickly she puts away her weapon and opens the door. The old man is waiting with a phone still in his hand, he doesn’t seem amused.      “I just received a call from one of my guests who was dining at Beetle’s Bar, said he saw you shooting up the place,” he recalls.      “I can explain that,” she states, calmly.      “I bet you can. You know what? I’ll bet your real name isn’t even Johnson. I want you out. I said I didn’t want any trouble,” he insists, pointing down the hallway.      “Just give me a sec.” She goes for her ID in her inside pocket while her other hand makes a calming gesture, then she shows it to him.      “My name isn’t Johnson, you’re right. It’s Evans, Sarah Evans. I’m a federal agent and I was working undercover,” she explains.      “FBI? Yeah, right. I don’t give a damn. Now, get out of my motel,” the man decides.      “Alright, let me get my stuff,” she sighs, putting back her identification.

     Instead of pulling back her hand empty, she grabs a small flashlight, turns it on and points it in the old man’s eyes. Her suspicion is confirmed, because his eyes flash white. For a brief moment the shapeshifter is overwhelmed by the reveal, enough time for Zoë to drop the flashlight into her striking hand, breach the space between them and slam her fist right up his nose, giving him one hell of an uppercut. He goes down in the hallway and looks up at her, staggered.      “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna be that easy?” she chuckles, flipping the torch up in the air and catching it skillfully.

     She grabs him by the collar and drags him inside her room, shifting the fight between four walls instead of on the corridor, not wanting innocent bystanders to get caught in the crossfire. She drops him to the ground, glaring down on him with disgust as she takes her gun from behind her waistband. The shifter clears his throat, wiping crimson red from his lip.      “Actually, I did. I almost shot you twice. Reckoned this would be a piece of cake,” he gloats with a grin, after which he struggles to get on his feet, holding his hands up. “You wanna shoot me in a fully booked motel? Try to explain that to the neighbors.”      Zoë narrows her eyes at him, mentally kicking herself for leaving the gun suppressor in her storage locker the last time she was there. The bastard has a point; shooting what looks like the owner of Motel 6 through the heart, will definitely draw attention. She scoffs, pursing her lips, then she takes the magazine from her weapon and lays it on the bed.      “We’ll finish this the old fashioned way, then,” she agrees confidently.

     They face each other, challenging. Zoë adjusts to a back stance, putting her left foot behind her and bending her knees slightly. Her hands lift up in front of her face as she flexes her fingers, ready for anything that son of a bitch is going to throw at her.       “I have to say, you got me fooled. Making me believe Terry Cliffer was going to be your next dress-up party, while he actually was your first. Smart,” she admits.      “If you admire me so much, why waste me?” he tests, blood dripping from his nose.      She smirks at that, entertained by his arrogance. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

     He steps towards her, but she beats him to it. In a quick move she defends, blocking his attack with her forearm and swings her back leg up with force, kicking the shifter hard against his temple. He goes down, shaking his head to ward off the black spots that are inevitably swimming in front of his eyes. When he looks up, the huntress has taken her rear foot stance again. One fist with her palm up on her hip and ready to strike, the other is ready in front of her to defend.       “Gotta say, you fight pretty good for a girl,” He gets to his feet again, wiping his brow. “Or should I call you the Karate Kid?”      “Oh, I’m not a kid. I’m more like a ninja,” she smirks, staring him down.        “Ninja or not, you’re no match for me.”

     He charges her, faster than humanly possible. Despite his supernatural speed, she dodges his jab and releases another kick, against his ribs this time. The creature locks her leg before she can retreat, however, and steps in while Zoë has lost her balance. With a fierce strike, his fist hits her in the jaw, hard. He still has a hold of her leg and twists it, forcing her on the floor, pulling a groan of agony from her as the ligaments in her knee stretch further than possible. Not giving up that easily, she pushes her left foot from the ground, using the leverage of him still holding her right leg tight to swing the other to his head, hitting him on the side of his face with her instep. He releases her and she breaks her fall, rolls, and gets up again, all in one swift movement. The arm that had a strong grip on her only seconds ago, is now twisted to the shifter’s back. Roughly, she  forces him to his knees; he can't go anywhere. 

     “What did you do to those people?” she demands, not asking very nicely.      “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t actually kill them. It’s far more fun to watch them suffer,” he responds, sadistically.      “You son of a—”      She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence, because the shapeshifter throws his head back and hits her hard in the teeth. Sharp pain shoots through the roots into her skull and for a moment there she’s sure he broke off a tooth or two; so much for looking fabulous.       In that split second, the chameleon manages to fight free, grabs her by her arm and violently throws her over his shoulder. Zoë lands on her back, the air slamming out of her lungs. She gasps sharply, unable to catch her breath. No time to recover from the pain, though, because she receives a kick in the gut a moment after. 

     Losing control over the fight fast, she tries to push away from her attacker to buy herself some valuable time, but her opponent takes the liberty to help her up, forcing her to stand by pulling her hair, before she suffers a blow in the chest with a strength that exceeds that of a human being. The huntress slams into the table, the edge bruising her lower back, feeling the tight grip of the shifter's hands on her throat when he roughly pushes her into the wooden surface.       With a devilish grin on his thin lips, he chokes her, clearly enjoying the display: how his victim fights for air, trying to pull in desperate breaths as he crushes her throat under his fingers.  

     “You know what I do to them? I keep them somewhere safe, safe from the world, where no one can find them,” he tells her, his speech eerily slow, as if he’s reading a chapter of a horror novel.      Zoë glances aside briefly. Although she can’t move her head, she notices the empty whiskey bottle she and Dean left last night, still laying on its side in the window sill. She reaches out, almost touching the glass, but the bottle remains out of reach by an inch or two. The shapeshifter laughs at her attempt and continues his story, as if he has all the time in the world to tell it.      “Humans are such strange creatures, you know? If you keep them together in a tiny cage for a while, they tend to behave like spiders. They attack each other, eventually kill and actually eat their own kind out of pure desperation. How amusing is that?”

     Zoë can’t hold back a gag, but forces herself to concentrate on the bottle. It vibrates almost unnoticeable, then the bottleneck turns towards her slightly. Focus, Zo! You can do this! She sends all her energy through her stretched out arm towards the nerve endings on her fingertips. It works, because the bottle flies into her hand. With an unexpected strike Zoë breaks the bottle on the shifter’s head, who stumbles back, finally letting go of her neck. Trying to suck oxygen down her painful windpipe, she coughs uncontrollably. Alright, that’s enough. A fair fight seems noble and all, but having a face off with a supernatural being, might not have been one of her smartest ideas. The huntress reaches for her gun and takes the magazine from the bed, swings around, aiming at… nothing? The room is empty.      “Fuck, not again,” she curses, bummed that she can’t put twenty years of jujitzu training in good use because of the runner.

     Before bolting out the door, the experienced huntress glances both ways down the hallway, her gun ready. Shit. No sign of the shifter. She lets out a frustrated sigh and  moves in, rolling her tongue over her straight teeth in the meantime, checking if they got chipped after the nasty headbutt she received.       When she clears the foyer, she is surprised to find the real motel owner, tied up to a chair in nothing more than a shirt and trunks, his mouth taped.      “Are you alright?” she asks, as he ‘hmm’s’ loudly.      In a quick movement she rips the tape from his mouth, unleashing a rant of curses and shouts.      “Ouch! That son of a bitch! Where is he?! Where is that bastard who did this to me?! I’m gonna kill him! I swear, I’m gonna--”

     Zoë stares at him for a moment, feeling a headache coming on, then grabs the roll of duct tape from the counter. While the manager keeps on raging, she rips off a piece of tape and presses it over his mouth. There is no way in the world she’s gonna release the pissed off elder; he needs some cooling down time. Casually she picks up the phone and for a moment considers dialling 911, but decides this isn’t really that much of an emergency and calls the local police.      “Hello? Yeah, hi. I just found an old guy tied up to a chair in not much more than his undies… Motel 6, 2107 Highway 52 North... My name? Yeah, it’s Not Interested.”       She hangs up and clears her throat, wiping her prints from the horn, then walks away, bored, with the roll of duct tape in her hand, leaving the furiously moaning motel owner behind the counter.

     Back in her room, she gathers her things and stuffs them in two duffels, which fit into the two big leather saddlebags on her Harley perfectly. She makes quick work of getting rid of all the evidence, including the glass she shattered on the shifter’s head. With both bags on her shoulder, she takes a last look around and leaves the room, waving at the motel manager on her way out while hiding her face from the security camera.       The cover of the manhole in the center of the parking lot is removed; her shifter went underground again. He's running back to his hideout, only he doesn't know that she knows exactly where that is.      “3841 110th Avenue Northwest,” she mumbles to herself as she gets on her bike and puts the helmet on her head.

     That’s where she’s going, that’s where this is going to end. The Harley engine roars loudly when she accelerates. Its back tire spins for a moment before the motorbike takes off as the evening sets in. This is going to be her last night in Rochester and his last night on the face of the earth. Zoë is determined: this hunt ends tonight.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nine here

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[doctorofmagic]

Strange Book Club - Week 5 - Review and Discussion of “New Avengers v3 Annual #1”

Oh, Hickman’s Illuminati. Stephen’s most controversial phase, yet one of my favorites. Even though the story is written by Frank Barbiere, it does justice to the character and the saga, specially when you add the fantastic art of Marco Rudy. Somehow, it reminds me of Into Shamballa, which is also amazing.

Before we start, I need to give a bit of context. The story follows the events of the incursions, when an Earth from a different multiverse appears in space, taking only a few hours for the both of them to collide if one isn’t destroyed, and the Illuminati trying to prevent that. The Illuminati, as you know, is a group of the most powerful and intelligent beings on Earth. That includes Tony, Reed, Xavier/Beast, Black Bolt/Medusa, Namor, T’Challa and, of course, Stephen. As the name suggests, they’re shady. They do shady things. They sent Hulk to space without his consent. That’s enough to understand how twisted their decisions may be. And yes, Stephen is there.

Context given, let’s begin!

The first page and I already have something to say. Stephen doesn’t know yet, but he’s so right. It came a time when Reed and the rest of the Illuminati couldn’t do more to prevent the incursions and the end of the multiverse. But it’s Stephen! He’s stubborn as hell. And he sure found more than one path to follow before everything died (no matter the cost).

Intermission. As he reaches the temple, a flashback is seen about his young days as a neurosurgeon. As usual, his ego defies even death, perhaps a copying mechanism since Donna’s passed away. He patronizes his love interest, Martha, who is teaching interns how to accept death when there’s no other option left.

Back to the present, the monk welcomes him and Stephen wonders why he was summoned. Everything seems different, as the monks embraced science and added it to magic. In their search for knowledge, they brought a demon - a parasite - to their dimension.

The demon has taken a girl as hostage. She’s a princess with imense power. They’re afraid she will burn the world should they not be separated.

Another intermission. Martha takes Stephen to see a terminal patience. He has accepted death, but Stephen refuses to admit he’s a lost cause. He decides to operate the man and promises his son that he will cure his father.

The present once more, Stephen projects his astral form and confronts the demon. He’s too strong and fights back, saying that the girl and he are now one. She will die if Stephen destroys him.

The flashback once more shows Martha having an argument with Stephen before the surgery. They’re both adamant about their different point of views, and Stephen still thinks that nothing is impossible, as long as he pays the price. It’s precisely what’s about to happen in the present.

Stephen casts dark magic. The first spell is not enough, so he does it again with blood magic. But we know this is not a mere use of such evil energies. As seen in New Avengers #14, Stephen tried to sell his soul in the Sinner’s Market. His offer was declined because he didn’t have a whole soul, a piece of information that even Stephen himself didn’t possess. He lost everything to save the world. He lost himself to the cause. At this point, he doesn’t care about what happens to him anymore.

Stephen loses control, just like the time when he used Zom’s powers. The demon knows he’s doomed, but he taunts Stephen anyway. He wants to know if Stephen will kill them both in the process. And so the flashback strikes him, finally showing us the conclusion. The patient died in Stephen’s hands. His son storms out in tears, calling him a liar. Once more, he’s powerless before death.

Stephen’s tired. He can’t have any more death. He offers the demon another alternative. He offers himself to be his new host. The demon accepts it, but he realizes a little too late that Stephen has a plan. The Sorcerer Supreme then swallows the demon.

The girl is saved, but she’s afraid of Stephen. The same goes for the monks, who cast him out with harsh words.

And thus Stephen walks alone again, regretting not his decisions.

You see, this is why I love Stephen so much. It doesn’t matter how far down he sinks, he will always try to find a way to help people.

Hickmanavengers is a bit distressful in my opinion. The first time I read it, I went bananas. I was deperate to make my friends understand why it was so mind-blowing. I remember saying: “No, listen! Everything is dying! The Entities themselves are dying! The Living Tribunal died!! The concept of existence itself is dying! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!!”

Now, if I was this desperate, imagine Stephen, Sorcerer Supreme, sworn protector of this dimension. Imagine his despair, his hopelessness. His loneliness and sadness, the disappointment at his Illuminati friends, his frustration and melancholy. He gave up on himself entirely for us. He... He was willing to sell his whole soul if he had a full measure of one...

However, even before oblivion, Stephen did not give up. He haven’t learned a thing about death. And he won’t accept the end of the universe. To be honest? I’m glad he didn’t.

He was the only one who found a way to Victor and Owen right before the end of the universe. Not Reed, not T’Challa, definitely not Namor and his new cabal. He’s the most stubborn of them all, and yet, his heart in is the right place. He was fundamental to Battleworld and its end precisely because he can’t let go.

Pretty sure Stephen will live forever, even in spirit. I’m sorry, Death, but you’ll never have him for real. And about his mistakes? Ah, what is one more piece of guilt for this sea of pain?

--

Oof. I love v3, and I love Secret Wars. Thank you, Hickman, for taking care of my favorite character (and my third one) with such special attention, even at their worst.

Regarding our book club. As you’re aware, Marvel will resume their publications slowly in the next weeks to come. But well, Stephen is nowhere to be found until July. So I believe we’ll keep our book club going on for now. As usual, feel free to leave comments and/or add recommendations for our next reading! Tonight, I’ll reply them if there’s any, and tomorrow (7) I’ll reveal our next issue!

Thank you for supporting this project! And thank you anon for suggesting such an incredible reading! I hope you’re all having a good time =] Stay safe!

[kathyprior4200]

Entertainment in Inferno! (Alastor Enters Hell)

Part 1: “Alastor enters Hell” 1933

  Hell: 1933

 Black empty space.

Complete silence.

He felt like he was floating in some kind of void. Where he was, he didn’t know.

 He had no form, no physical sensations of any kind.

For a moment he just…was.

 A small white light emerged from the dark above, and steadily grew. Though it was blinding, the light didn’t bother him.

“Alastor…Alastor…”

A choir of vocals were speaking the repeated word in the distance. The voices grew louder as he felt himself rising upward. The word felt comforting to him, and sounded strangely familiar.

“Alastor…”

 He suddenly stopped and saw a golden gate up ahead within white clouds. A winged figure puffed up his white wings and stared at him.

“I am Puriel,” the angel said. He had a white face with red blotches on his cheeks, yellow eyes and short bronze gold hair. He was dressed in white dress pants, a white shirt, a golden bowtie, and matching shoes.

“I am an examiner of souls and one of many who determine where one goes in the afterlife.”

He spoke an incantation.

“Alastor Roscoe Duvalier,” Puriel stated. “Here is your previous form.”

Alastor gasped as he suddenly remembered his name. A flood of memories of his past life rushed back to him.

Alastor stared down at himself and saw his human reflection in front of him. A thin man with a pointed chin stared back at him with chocolate brown eyes and small round glasses. His skin was a very light brown, looking almost white. His hair color was in-between brown and red, short with a bit of a wave pointing to one side. The longest parts of his hair were slightly past his ears, reaching toward his chin.

A large black bowtie was positioned below his neck. His undershirt was white with buttons and crisscrossing lines forming a few diamonds. The design resembled the structure of a radio tower. Along with tan pants and brown boots, he wore a candy red pinstriped coat with dark red stripes going vertically down toward his waist.

What was disturbing about his reflection was a small red x on his forehead between his eyes that seemed to be glowing. His clothes were stained with blood as was the side of his face.

Alastor sprouted a large grin and instantly felt better. He said his name out loud, surprised to hear his voice.

 The angel in front of him continued. “Alastor Roscoe Duvalier, born in New Orleans to French American Joseph Duvalier and Creole American Loretta Duvalier. Entered Earth January 24th, 1896 at 3:00AM. Died in 1933 in the woods via a gunshot to the head and mauling by dogs.”

A brief flashback of him running from the police, trying to hide in the woods. Hearing the growling of canines and being surrounded by sharp teeth. A loud gunshot and an exploding pain through his head. Briefly seeing a buck in the distance before things went black.

Puriel looked through an endless holographic list of souls. He turned to Alastor with a glare.

“Due to the endless number of people you killed, you are not fit to enter Heaven. You are to either enter Hell, purgatory, Tartarus…” he listed off dark places from other cultures…

“…or go back to the endless void, as those who die a second death are fated to go.”

Alastor could feel a strange sensation, like someone, or something was tugging at his chest. It seemed to come from far below. He suddenly felt the need to follow it.

Having read his mind, Puriel nodded, a look of disgust on his face. “Your fate has been decided. Suffering and death will be there to meet you, unless you can somehow redeem yourself. Farewell.”

 The angel and the golden gate vanished, the darkness filling in again. Like the sudden drop of a roller coaster, Alastor felt himself plummeting rapidly down through the dark.

He literally screamed into the void.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

He thought he briefly saw a familiar blue and green planet out in space, but everything rushed by too quickly for him to comprehend.

Breaking through dark ground, falling further into hot magma, uncomfortable heat that was even hotter than the sun…

Falling ever so endlessly, until he rushed through an opening portal in a crimson sky, the rim surrounded by flames.

 Down below, a group of little red skinned imps were forcing enchanted voodoo dolls made of straw to dance on hot coals. Red glowing chains held the dolls in place around their necks, the magic coming from the lead imp’s claws. The lead imp cackled, wearing ringmaster’s clothing and a round hat while the other imps jeered. A few demons watched the show from a distance. Several circus tents were lined nearby. The lead imp looked up in horror as the yelling figure fell down…and crushed him, creating a giant crater in the ground. The chains disappeared and the dolls cheered. They jumped over the coals and chased away their tormentors with sizzling silver pins.

The imp and Alastor fell through another portal, this time into a dark void.  Alastor landed hard on his back despite no visible structure being there. He coughed and slowly stood up, brushing off dirt and ash from his hair and clothes. The imp rubbed his long horns in pain and stood up too. The imp glared at Alastor, baring his fangs, but was quickly held into place via black tentacles pinning down his arms and legs. The imp yelled before being consumed by rows of sharp white teeth that appeared in the dark.

Alastor remained perfectly still, not even daring to breathe. (Not that he really could, anymore.) The black space was nothing like the silent void of death. In fact, it was more like an ocean of dark matter, humid heat and…

…things that were alive.

 Shadow spirits ebbed and flowed through the endless space, some with glowing white eyes, others with horns, all of them blending in within the dark. Shrieks, moans, and the occasional cackle filled the air.

“Hello darkness, my old friend,” Alastor spoke to himself.

“Hello to you as well,” said a voice from behind him.

Alastor spun around and only saw darkness.

“Who’s there?”

“Over here,” said the voice, in a distorted eerie tone.

He looked to the side and nearly gasped. Surrounded by an aura of red was a shadow of what looked like a skeletal humanoid deer. The figure stood upright with large white holes for eyes and sharp teeth inside its mouth. A pair of large antlers sat around shadow deer ears and a mess of hair. A claw with four fingers gripped Alastor’s shoulders.

“Who are you?” Alastor asked.

The being morphed until it was a black copy of him.

“I am you,” the shadow replied. “You may call me… Rotsala. I was born from your deepest nightmares, nestled in your subconscious. All of your evil thoughts, your fear, your rage…and your desire for vengeance. Those thoughts nourished me. Every kill you made on Earth brought you one step closer to not only death, but also to the underground Loas, and myself. Once you died, I was born with this shadow vessel, and separated from your mind. I traveled down here, to my home, knowing you would come. Now we are reunited at last.”

“But you’re not a part of me anymore,” Alastor said.

“Yes and no,” the shadow said. “Though I have my own body, I am still a reflection of your true feelings, your true motivations. So, naturally, once we get to Hell I’ll be your…guide, as it were.”

“But we can’t go back to Hell. Aren’t we stuck down here?”

“Not for long,” said the shadow. He pointed down to Alastor’s arm. Alastor looked and saw three glowing red voodoo symbols etched onto it in blood.

Alastor could sense other ancient beings moving closer to him, speaking in ghostly whispers.

The shadow continued, “Your debt to the Loas and specifically to Lord Kalfu has been paid. A sacrifice of loved ones in addition to your own gruesome death…bestows upon you, neigh unlimited power.”

 It all happened before Alastor had the chance to blink. Shadow creatures rapidly circled around him and black tentacles enveloped his entire body like a macabre cocoon. Alastor yelled as his human skin cracked, and peeled off his body in fleshy chunks, which soon faded into dust. Muscle and bone also disintegrated rapidly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t agonizing. It was more like the natural process of a snake shedding its old skin to make way for something new.

He felt formless, naked and cold, but soon warmed up as new flesh formed where his old exterior shell once was.

 His new skin and face were grayish in color. Empty dark sockets took up much of his face, the home of his new demonic red eyes. Soon, other body features formed: thin gray arms, legs, four fingered hands and four-toed feet…an anatomy of a male human, though definitely not human at all.

Alastor opened his mouth and sharp yellow fangs slowly emerged from the top and bottom. They closed together to form a wide sinister smile.

Thick red hair grew on Alastor’s head, pointing out in a slight wave toward the right like his previous human form. Tuffs of hair ending slightly past his chin on either side completed the look, ending with black colored tips. Instead of round earlobes, thick fluffy deer-shaped ears grew from the sides of his head, ending in black furry tips. In addition, small black antlers stuck out in the middle of his head, along with a fluffy black and red deer tail that appeared near his tailbone.

Alastor waved his hand in front of his right eye, and an old fashioned monocle appeared under it, connected by a thin chain. A burgundy pinstriped dress coat and a red undershirt materialized and covered his body. The ends of the coat were filled with several holes, giving it a tattered feel. An upside down black cross lay under a large black bowtie in place under his chin and neck. He wore the same color pants, plus black shoes with red deer hoof prints on the soles. Black gloves with red tips covered his four-clawed hands.

With his new form complete, the tentacles released Alastor and parted away.

 Tingling hot red electricity spread into his head, then moved down his body, much of it resting in his hands and fingers. He snapped on instinct and a burst of red magic sparked to life like a firework.

Then knowledge of magic and voodoo spells entered into his brain. The new information faded into the back of his head, staying there like he had it within him all his life.

“HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHA!”

Alastor let out a maniacal laugh that rose higher into hysterical giggles. All this supernatural power was coursing through his veins, and he loved every second of it.

Finally the magic quietly faded with a humming sound.

Two shadow demon figures approached with silent steps, eyes glowing red. Alastor could barely make out their forms in the blackness.

“One more thing,�� said the shadow. “Demons make deals down here in Hell, and they are not to be taken lightly. These two are friends of mine. They are a few of the representatives of this world below Hell.”

The shadow creatures morphed into two alternate versions of Alastor. The one to the left had a red deer head with large antlers, radio dials for eyes and a dark blue suit. The other one had an old fashioned radio for a head, and wore a red suit with a black tie with crisscross lines on it like those of a radio tower.

“These two have taken forms suitable to your liking. They were the main ones who helped transform you…you may call them by their pseudonyms Cerf and Muse.”

The two shadows turned men awkwardly waved, feeling out of place in their temporary demon costumes.

“Since they used all their effort to craft you a suitable body to enter Hell…it only seems fitting that you could help them out as well.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. There was more to this. “A proposal?”

The shadow nodded. “Give some of your newfound power to them and a connection will be forged between you and my brethren. You will be able to summon imps, shadow spirits and even the darkest creatures of the underworld with just a snap of your fingers. Cerf and Muse can serve as your bodyguards.”

Cerf walked forward. “I will give you animal instincts like sharp hearing and fast reflexes.”

Muse elbowed Cerf’s side and pushed forward. “I can give you something even better…your own personal weapon!”

Alastor was intrigued. “What is it?”

Muse smirked and wagged his claw, “You’ll have to agree to the deal if you want to find out!”

Alastor kept his smile on his face, standing proud in the face of uncertainty and risk. “And what’s in it for you?”

Alastor’s shadow grinned. “Why, your power, of course! Your sins on Earth coupled with your granted powers have made you, perhaps the most powerful demon yet to be. It would be quite useful for us in the long run.”

“Yes, yes,” said Cerf, “You know, ‘cause we want to eventually be free to roam Hell…and feast on delicious souls…havoc on the house!”

Muse elbowed him hard and flashed a warning.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Idiot,” he muttered.

“Aw come on,” said Cerf. “We worked for that Dr. Facilier not too long ago, remember? His soul’s still in Hell and he still has his Eldritch powers. This guy can’t be that bad.”

Alastor grinned, getting an idea. “Hmm…how much power do you want from me?”

“50%,” said the shadow.

Alastor scoffed. “Ha! No. Way too much. After all that effort in giving it to me? No. I won’t relent that easily.”

“Well…if you don’t take the deal, we could always take some away…”

Alastor leaned in close and sneered, “Then I guess I’d be left with fighting myself for eternity then. I think we both know that it would get boring fast.”

The shadow nodded after a pause. “Touche. How about 30%?”

“Still too much. I could give you a wealthy 1%.”

“It’s gotta be above a single digit, or the exchange is off,” said the shadow. “25%.”

“Nonono. How about 10%. You tell me where I can find this Facilier guy…make him my slave…it’ll be all yours.”

Alastor’s shadow held out his hand, the other creatures looking on eagerly. “So, do we have a deal?”

Alastor grinned and put his hand into the shadowy digit. Green electricity sparked as they shook.

Cerf and Muse spiraled around him in circles. Cerf vanished into Alastor’s ears, awakening his senses. Muse turned into shadow once more…and began to change shape. The shadow transformed and Alastor felt something appear in his right hand.

 It was an old red vintage microphone staff. A glowing red eye appeared on the top, just below where the speaker was.

“About time you sealed that surreal deal,” came a voice from the device. It was a male voice with a radio filter over it. It sounded like an announcer on a broadcast.

“So this is my new weapon and accessory you were talking about.” Alastor said.

“Yes indeed,” the microphone replied. “Just turn me on and you can broadcast what’s going on around you, anytime, anywhere. I should say…your desire and love for telling dad jokes…I’ll help you go overboard with it.”

Alastor grinned again. He was already enjoying this opportunity.

“Enjoy yourself while you can, Radio Star,” said his shadow before disappearing behind him.

The microphone muttered something about already feeling trapped but Alastor didn’t listen.

He was already planning his next move.

“What am I waiting for?!” he asked out loud. He concentrated on the space in front of him and a portal opened back to Hell. He stepped through it and it closed behind him.

 This would be the beginning of Alastor’s many conquests of Hell…and his new title of The Radio Demon.

 The very first attack occurred in a dark forest in the moonlight (if there were even moons in Hell). Alastor discovered that when he concentrated and waved his hands over the ground, he could summon tentacles, shadow spirits and even voodoo imps from below.

If he was going to take over this peculiar place called Hell and be entertained, at least he would have help.

The demonic deer could hear the patter of footsteps and hid in the shadows, behind an old tree. Moving his head sideways, he peered to get a better look. Walking on the trail were two skeletal deer walking on two hooves. One of them was smoking a cigarette and the other was talking about “borrowing” coins from his ex-girlfriend. Behind them was a black minotaur in jeans and overalls. The first deer carelessly threw his used cigarette on the ground.

Alastor stared at it and the path ahead, getting an idea.

He picked up a rock and threw it in the distance. It crashed hard into the ground, causing the area to shake.

The two deer froze at the explosive noise and turned their heads around.

“What was that?” one asked.

“I didn’t hear nothin’,” said the second.

“You boneheads be hearin’ things,” growled the minotaur. He unzipped his backpack and took out an axe. He swiped several times in front of him, causing the deer to duck. “I pay you to protect me. Your job’s to cut down these trees for wood. Our saloon’s not gonna warm itself up in the winter ya, know.”

He kicked one of the deer with his hoof, sending the creature forward in a pile of bones. “Hurry up, now!”

The deer got up and continued forward. Alastor stretched out his hand and a black tendril snaked in front of the path. Invisible and silent, the deer didn’t notice it until they tripped over it.

“Aurgh!” they yelled, face planting in the dirt.

“You’re good for nothin’ but shit!” chided the angry minotaur. “Get your fat bony asses up before…”

FWOOOSH!

The lone cigarette erupted into flames from behind them.

“Before…that happens?” asked one of the deer, pointing behind the minotaur.

The flames moved rapidly through the dried wood. The deer rattled as they ran but were blocked as sparks ignited in front of them, with a snap of Alastor’s fingers. The barrier of fire blocked their path. Soon, the trio of sinners were surrounded by the flames.

“Now what?” asked one of the deer.

“Run through it, imbecile!” yelled the minotaur. “Or you’ll be even deader than you already are!”

Chuckling, Alastor turned on his microphone and strode forward, the flames having no effect on him. A spotlight shone from the eye that appeared in the center of the microphone.

“I believe I can help with that.”

“Who the fuck are you?!” spat the minotaur.

“The end of your pathetic existence,” Alastor said. “I’d say your attitude is sheer bullcrap, but who am I to know for sure.” He laughed at his pun as sounds of a laughing audience emitted from the staff.

The minotaur bellowed in rage and charged forward. A hard slap on the face from Alastor sent the bull man to the ground. Alastor stomped his foot and the bone deer were sent down into the depths in pieces.

“I’ve never hunted a bull before,” Alastor said, walking up to the minotaur on the ground. Four black spirits with big white eyes appeared to restrain him. A hunting knife appeared in his gloved hand. “…But I look forward to the new experience.”

He wedged the blade under the bull’s horns and began to saw through the material. The minotaur couldn’t fight off the spirits holding him down. Taking his sweet time, Alastor cut off the bull’s other horn.

“I must say, your horns are exquisite,” Alastor mentioned. He examined one in his hands like it was an artifact.

“Stealing my horns for the black market, are ya?” asked the minotaur.

“Nope!” he said. “I’m just curious to see how useful these things can be. We’re about to find out, ladies and gents…”

He rushed forward and stabbed the minotaur with his own horn. The bull roared loudly and briefly gurgled before falling backward with a limp. The horn was removed and coated with dark red blood.

Sticking out his long purple tongue, Alastor licked off some of the blood from the horn’s surface. He bent down and began to skin the dead minotaur before enjoying his midnight meal. “In case you were wondering, folks, bull meat can be hearty and tasty. Venison is my favorite, though.”

He stood up and wiped off his mouth. With a wave of his hands, the flames disappeared as did the spirits. Clearing his throat, he said in his announcer voice, “Welcome to the first ever radio broadcast, hosted by me, Alastor. 66.6 FM. It has to be deeply embarrassing to get stabbed to death by your own horn. But I don’t have any horns except the severed ones in my hand. Honestly, seeing the life leave that sinner’s eyes got me…should I say…horny. Ha ha ha! Stay tuned for more broadcasts in the future. Ta-la for now!”

He turned off his microphone with a tap and hummed a happy tune as he walked through the woods.

 The second massacre was much more exciting for Alastor. It took place at an annual fair, which was jam packed with demons. Alastor casually walked toward the line of demons waiting to get in. He whacked one demon in the back with his cane. The demon toppled forward, ramming into another demon, who tumbled into the next one. In a comedic domino effect, all the demons crashed to the ground in yelps and grunts.

“What’s the meaning of this?” asked a grumpy old demon with the face of a mosquito. The insect demon wore a white shirt with vertical black stripes.

“Why hello there, good sir!” said Alastor, walking up to the booth. “I felt that the line was going much too slow, so I decided to speed things up.”

“Get back in line, punk,” the mosquito spit. “Or I’ll suck up your blood and energy.”

“Oh no, how scary,” Alastor exclaimed in a mocking tone. Still, he kept a protective spirit in his pocket for powerful demons like the one in front of him.

“Just tell me how much it costs to get in,” said Alastor. “I have lots of dosh.”

“One thousand and ten souls,” the mosquito grunted.

“I believe the sign only says fifty souls,” Alastor mentioned.

“No, it says one thous…”

He glanced at the sign which read: “County Fair, best in Hell, fifty souls.”

“It said one thousand and ten a moment ago.”

“I don’t think so,” said Alastor, laughing inwardly.

“Enough of your games!” bellowed the mosquito. “Get back in line. You should have enough to pay for this.”

“I do have fifty souls,” Alastor replied.

“One hundred and ten, idiot,” said the mosquito.

“Fifty!” Alastor answered.

“Hundred ten!”

“Fifty!”

“Hundred ten!”

“Hundred ten!”

“Fifty!” yelled the mosquito.

“How about zero!”

“Zero?!” yelled the mosquito.

“Zero it is! Thank you, fine sir!” called Alastor, swatting the mosquito’s face with his staff. He vanished ahead into shadow, leaving the mosquito in disbelief.

 Alastor hummed happily as he walked among aisles of stands and booths. Children monsters threw bombs at a target, sending a sitting bat demon into a tub of acid below.

“Rotten candy!” called a pink dragon at a booth. “Freshly spun for everyone!” Blue and pink candy floss was being spun, and scooped up into a white cone. The dragon burped and the candy turned a sickly green.

A hydra at another stand was throwing darts at live suspended teddy bears covered with sores, some with eyes missing. Another demon with a TV for a head was riding a unicycle while twirling live wires in his hands.

Off in the distance, a family of brown Gollums were riding on a Ferris wheel. One of the parents got mad and threw a baby Gollum off into the air.

A roller coaster with zombies in the cars sent them upside down, then dropping them several feet to the ground on a mattress of metal spikes.

 Inside a red and black circus tent, a crowd of demons sat in the stands, watching some individuals perform tricks in the center. A sign nearby read: “The Amazing Imp Siblings! Blitzo, Tilla, and Barbie Wire!”

Another sign read “The Incredible Blitzo! Big top, tickets now! One night only!”

“Come one, come all!” came the announcer’s voice from a speaker. “Presenting your favorite trio of tricksters…”

Drums played rapidly in the background…

“The Imp Siblings!”

Blitzo and his sisters emerged from an opening in the wooden floor and posed on a podium. The crowd clapped.

“Hello, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent!” called the imp in the middle. He wore a navy blue sequined outfit with yellow eye decorations on the sleeves. His face was red and white and his horns long and curved.

“I’m Tilla,” said the older imp sister.

Tilla’s face was red and her hair was long and black. Her dress was pink with black dots along the front.

“And I’m Barbie Wire!” said the youngest sibling. Barbie Wire wore a black and white stripped dress, and her horns were curved in spirals around her head like a ram.

After a jingle about their new Immediate Murder Professional Company, Blitzo mentioned to his siblings, who both grinned. The imps took their places as their performance started. Circus music played nearby, one scrawny demon playing a rusted organ on wheels off to the side.

True to her name, Barbie Wire balanced on a tightrope made of razor thin wire. When flying bats surrounded her, she took out a spear and sliced them down when they flew close. She almost fell, but held out the spear in front of her, steading herself.

Tilla was busy doing flips as a giant manticore was released from a nearby cage. The beast had a lion’s head, black bat wings, and the tail of a scorpion. Tilla dodged the deadly tail and began to jump over it like she was doing jump-rope. With a mighty back-flip, she landed on the manticore’s back and rode the beast around the arena. The manticore roared and reared up, but Tilla brought the beast back down, taming it.

Meanwhile, Blitzo was singing a song about murder into a microphone while twirling a double-sided torch in his hand. The three siblings killed off more creatures before landing gracefully back in the center before taking a bow. The crowd stood up and applauded with hands, claws, fins, and other appendages.

  “Wow, what a performance!” exclaimed Alastor, his voice blending into the cheers. “Now this is what I call one hell of a show!”

 The Radio Demon filed out with the rest of the crowd. Feeling giddy, he played several of the games at the stands (and didn’t hesitate to cheat in order to win.) He ordered hot dogs (made from actual dog), blood punch, bird brains on a stick…and passed on the literal shit kababs.

A pleasant feeling of nostalgia came over him as he remembered the fun times going to the circus with his family as a kid. He loved playing the games and feeding the animals at the petting zoo. He was especially fascinated by the fortune tellers, who had used Tarot cards to predict people’s futures. The Fool card, representing curiosity and beginnings, was drawn as his card for his childhood. For his future teenager card, the Hermit was chosen, representing isolation. Justice was the chosen card for adulthood, adding to karma. Last of all, if he made it past 30, the Devil card was placed in front of him.

At the time, he didn’t know what they meant, but it was fascinating all the same.

Back in the present, a troll with three eyes was dragging a struggling buck toward a sitting group of spider demons waiting to ride it.

“Man, I’m still hungry,” he thought. “Haven’t had venison in forever.”

He summoned a rifle in his hands and proceeded to blast the deer’s head clean off.

“The fuck?!” bellowed the gray-skinned troll, stomping toward him. “That was my prized animal!”

“And that is my meal,” he replied.

The troll raised his fist and brought it down to where Alastor once stood. He materialized behind him.

“Stop trolling around and show me what you’ve got,” said Alastor.

The troll landed more punches, Alastor dodging every one.

“You’re no fun,” Alastor replied. He held out his hand and blasted a fireball straight into the troll’s face. The troll fell backwards to the ground, only a smoking hole of charred flesh where his face once was. Alastor picked up the deer head and smiled at the spider kids.

“You arachnids still want a ride?”

The spider kids scurried away, without saying a word.

 Later on, Alastor saw something that disturbed him inside for the first time. A group of four black reptile-like demons were huddled near a yellow and red striped circus tent. One held a whip in his hand and repeatedly slashed at a living voodoo horse made of straw. The creature was hauling a cart with a cage and was whining in pain.

“Get moving you bastard beast of burden!” sneered the snake demon.

The driver of the cart let out a hiss and a laugh. “Boy, we’re gonna be filthy rich by today’s end. Got lots of good victims to torture, it’ll make the boss happy.”

Alastor walked over toward the cage and saw several small voodoo dolls who were very much alive. A father and a mother doll were comforting little doll children who huddled into their cloth chests. The mother’s eyes were purple buttons and though her mouth was stitched shut, a voice still emerged.

“It’ll be okay, my son,” she said, soothingly.

“Mom, I don’t wanna go to the spectacle,” cried the kid.

The father doll sighed. “I can see why. My mother was used by a demon to harm his rival in the Second Circle of Hell. The pins and needles stuck into her every day, hurt her as much as that poor demon. But we’re stuck as slaves. We have no choice. To the demons and imps, we’re nothing but tools to be used.”

“That is very true,” thought Alastor. “But what if they could be used in a good way?”

The father looked at a grisly array of straw voodoo heads sticking from long spikes in the ground. The dead heads were trophies for the snake monsters. One wrinkled head with white curly hair remained motionless on a bloodstained spike.

“That’s your grandmother over there,” said the father. The boy doll turned away.

“The voodoo dolls who don’t serve their purpose right…” added the mother doll. She mentioned outside to more reptile demons eating living dolls, burning others, tearing other dolls to shreds and sewing them back together, only to repeat the process.

Alastor snapped his fingers and the cage door opened. The dolls stared confused but soon ran out when they saw the demon’s face.

“Hey, get back here!” called a bipedal snake as his captives fled on their short stubby legs.

Radio noises rushed from his staff as Alastor spoke a Creole spell.

Other voodoo imps and creatures slowly turned their heads to look toward him. Round faced dolls who were originally tied by chains broke free. Many gathered nearby knives, pitchforks, and even torches.

“You inssssulent strawberry clown!” hissed the boss snake, slithering over, wearing a business suit of black. “You think you can get away with ssssetting my prizes free like that. I’ll bite you and make you wish you never died!”

A tentacle rose from the ground and constricted the snake’s neck. His yellow eyes bulged and he gasped for air through his fanged mouth. He was then tossed aside into a pit of flames. A nearby doll rebel mob stabbed the snake with sharp pins.

Casting another spell, Alastor grew taller until he towered above the circus tent. His dress coat merged with the tent and flaps. Black spikes jutted from out of the tent and other tents nearby, some with voodoo heads on them.

Telepathically using pins to hold open the flaps, Alastor pulled the rest of the snake-men in with several tentacles. A roaring fire blazed to life right where the demons were standing. The reptiles roared in agony as the flames consumed their bodies. One snake opened his mouth, wide, reaching out from the tent, trying to escape. Voodoo imps off to the side, held their little weapons in the air, attacking any other demons who wondered by. The voodoo minions now had mouths of sharp teeth, with blood around their mouths, eyes white. Alastor, meanwhile was enjoying the carnage below, now in full demon form. His hands were spread out wide, his eyes red radio dials, and his antlers jutting out from his head. All the while, his victory was broadcast yet again over the radio.

“Goood afternoon, you filthy sinners! It’s your favorite radio demon, Alastor coming in live! I am here at the annual county fair. Just listen to that cheerful circus music, and the joyful sounds of sinners on their days off. And best of all, the screams of those unfortunate enough to be trapped in my inferno! Chaos is still running rampant here as voodoo dolls strike down their former masters with every kind of weapon imaginable. You know what they say: “be careful what you wish for…you may soon be on fire, for better or worse!” Tickets are still on sale for those who’d like to experience the show. Well that’s all for now, folks. Stay tuned for more, next time on 66.6 FM.”

 Now in Alastor’s control, the doll citizens caused havoc around hell in the name of their new lord of chaos. They had aided him in his many other conquests, doing his bidding like the shadow spirits.

 During one particular conquest, the voodoo imps stood in a line beside Alastor as they overlooked a city in one of the Nine Circles. The sky on that day was red and cloudless, the color of fresh blood.

The demons who lived there had supported Sir Pentious, the evil snake overlord from the 1800s. The boastful villain himself was there, controlling a hulking machine with metal arms and legs…and lots of blasters, from the inside. His egg minion army stood at the ready, some of them running around the inside, others watching their leader in awe.

“Oh I really wish I could be shot with one of those amazingly crafted blasters,” said egg #66.

“Shut up!” hissed the overlord, his one-eyed top hat on his head. “I need to focus here! There’s a rogue army of…toys straight ahead trying to take over this turf. But several perfect shots from my blasters will do the trick.”

The snake pulled several levers and the blasters fired torpedoes that exploded off in the distance. Alastor had formed a red energy shield which protected him and the dolls.

“Hey, red reindeer man!” Sir Pentious called through a loudspeaker. “What are you doing on my turf?”

Alastor turned on his microphone. His voice echoed through the air, accompanied by radio noises.

“It’s Alastor to you, old serpent. And I believe this territory now belongs to me.”

“Well my cult of demons would disagree with you,” Sir Pentious retorted. The demons stood holding spears and barring their teeth.

“You still have a chance to surrender and run,” said Alastor. “If I were you, I’d take it.”

“Fool!” Sir Pentious hissed. “You’re not getting in my way of my domination goal! Now, prepare to be blasted to bits! Hahahaha! Attack!”

More blasts shot from the robot’s arms. The demons yelled as the eggs charged forward, wearing pinstriped suits and black top hats. Alastor pointed his claws forward and the voodoo imps rushed in. One imp with horns, a black hat, and sharp teeth held a butcher knife. Another imp with horns bit into an egg minion with a large bite. The egg yelled and cracked open in a yok mess.

The eye on Alastor’s microphone created a spotlight that temporarily blinded the approaching demon soldiers. Happy, jazz music poured from the staff, a contrast to the grisly battle occurring.

A wealthy demon wearing a white shirt and rings on two of his three fingers, fled when flames sparked in front of him. Another demon wearing a blue general’s uniform had large black eyes and horns with black and pink stripes. He tried to fight off the imps, but the creatures held onto his legs with their fangs.

Black tentacles emerged from an opening portal, grabbing onto demons and tossing them inside like rag dolls. A final blast fired from Sir Pentious’ machine. “You’re done for!” the snake declared.

The torpedo froze in mid-air after Alastor held out his hand. The missile then flew backwards, right into the heart of the machine. The hunk of metal exploded and Sir Pentious fell out with a scream. He quickly fled while his remaining egg army followed after him. “I’ll have my revenge, Alastor! It’s far from over!”

“I’d say it’s closed curtains for your show,” the radio demon replied. He cut into his hand with a fingernail and droplets of red blood glowed.

The demon general stood up on shaky legs…then was instantly crushed by a large metal pillar. The pillar along with two others held up a tall radio tower that had materialized out of nowhere. A red light blinked ominously at the top, an Illuminati eye, watching everything.

“Now there’s some technology I can truly appreciate!” Alastor exclaimed with a clap of his hands.

Whenever Alastor paid a visit to a city or town, the people would run for cover, shouting, “It’s the Radio Demon! Run for your afterlives!”

Their screams and terrified faces filled Alastor with glee and a sense of dominance. He hovered in the air, his eyes demonic red, antlers long and extending from his head. He was a figure of chaos and power, under the glowing pink Pentagram in the indigo sky. Voodoo imps carried animal skulls on spikes as they roamed the streets. They left several spikes in the ground with severed demon heads attached (and sometimes voodoo doll heads.) The spikes would often stand near piles of dead demons. Some dolls broke into stores and smashed TV screens with their spears and weapons. “VOX EATS SOCKS!” was spray painted in red by two dolls on the glass window of the trashed TV store. After they left, a lone voodoo minion replaced the red “S” with a black “C” and cackled out loud. Alastor’s deer shadow hovered nearby in the air, with red eyes, large antlers and a grinning mouth.

Radios of all shapes and sizes were soon for sale in many stores in Hell. One of Alastor’s favorite ones was an old fashioned one with three panels at the top, a dial, and a row of grinning teeth that was part of the design on the front. A friendly reminder for listeners to keep on smiling.

The voodoo imps evolved further, some growing horns of purple and bright pink. Others rode in battle on skeletal deer with glowing red horns in place of antlers. Those more inclined to water hitched rides from moving skeletons of sharks and underwater monsters.

Even poor Husk, the alcohol drinking gambler cat demon, was dragged into Alastor’s schemes several times. At one point, he was forced to do a tap dance on stage to distract a crowd of demons while Alastor razed the nearby town. It was embarrassing for the winged cat demon, but Alastor obviously got a kick out of it. Reluctantly, Husk continued to serve Alastor in exchange for booze and cigarettes. Meanwhile, Niffty gladly helped out the Radio Demon by making him meals and helping to keep his interdimensional home tidy. She was just glad to be out of the flames and to keep busy. Both Niffty and Husk’s auras briefly glowed red like Alastor’s, indicating they were associates of his. However, they had free will of their own…when they were not summoned by him on occasion.

At one point, Alastor posed with the rest of the villain overlords: Vox the TV demon, Velvet, Valentino the porn studio owner, Rosie, a skeletal deer surrounded by a halo of blue fire, a two-headed bird in a tuxedo, a bird overlord with yellow shades, a black spider demon, a thick haired lady who looked like Helsa, and another woman who may have been Lilith. Husk and Niffty stood as shadow silhouettes. Thirteen individuals in all.

 By the time Alastor heard of the Hazbin Hotel, he had performed eleven successful massacres, all throughout the Nine Circles of Hell. There were even fliers taped around, showing Alastor at the circus with his victims burning underneath him. “THE RADIO DEMON! BEWARE HIM! DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM!” the fliers read.

Alastor hummed a jolly tune as he observed the fruitful results of his carnage. He was one step closer to dominating all of Hell.

 Part 2: “Exterminations”

During one random day, the clock tower ringed twelve ominous tones. Alastor was strutting down the street when he heard the noise. He glanced up at the tower where a counter read “number of days till next purge: 0.”

“Purge?” he thought. “Sounds intriguing. Some kind of killing contest between overlords?”

Alastor soon got his answer when the center of the overhead neon pentagram in the sky tore open. Through a dark hole, dark flying creatures swarmed out and headed off in different directions. There were at least twenty of them, perhaps more.

Upon closer inspection, they were dark angels with black feathery wings, curved horns and bird-like feet clad in dark armor. They wore LED masks complete with creepy glowing grins, large x’s over their right eyes and curved horns off to the back, reaching past behind their heads. Each one also carried a harpoon spear in their hands.

One angel threw a spear that struck a flying demon square in the eye. The demon fell to the ground, lifeless. Another harpoon struck an orange horned demon in the neck, resulting in a gory death. A lone spear flew and lodged itself in the wall right above Alastor’s head.

All around the city, demons were screaming and scurrying frantically for cover. Several Exterminators circled over the cowering citizens of Hell with mechanical laughs.

“Cleanse Hell of the sinner scum!” rang out on of the angel’s voices.

With a spin and swipe of a harpoon from another angel, other demons dropped dead like bowling pins.

One of the angels glanced over to Alastor. Two other angels glanced over too, all turning their heads, grins glowing.

Alastor hid his shock with a sinister smile of his own. The shock quickly morphed into a new excitement.

“Prepare to meet your second death,” said the angel in the middle.

“Am I supposed to be sacred of you crows?” he asked.

Alastor was surrounded by the three angels hovering above him, spears raised.

His eyes turned into red radio dials and his black antlers grew slightly longer from his head.

“This is going to be quite entertaining!”

The three spears were thrown forward and black tentacles reached and slapped the weapons away.

Just as the harpoons appeared back in the Exterminator’s hands, shadow spirits with red auras circles around the angels, screeching, clawing and attacking them. One angel flapped and flailed, shaking off several spirits by striking them with a swipe of his spear. A tentacle impaled the angel through his gut from behind them. The second angel got his wings torn off by two other black tentacles emerging from portals in midair. A shadow spirit grabbed the angel’s spear and sliced off its owner’s head, falling into one of the portals.

The third angel began to flee, but Alastor grabbed hold of one of the angel’s dark arms. The Exterminator elbowed Alastor and scratched his chest with long nails. Alastor glanced down at the tears and new flowing blood soaking into his red pinstriped dress coat.

He growled darkly in a demonic voice. “That was my favorite suit.”

The Radio Demon soon had the angel in a chokehold with one of his four-fingered gloved hands.

“L-let go, filth!” the angel sputtered with a gasp.

Using his strength, Alastor bashed the angel down hard against the pavement several times.  He soon heard a satisfying crack as his victim’s head split open and the dark horns fell off. He tossed the angel’s body aside for the nearby voodoo imps to consume.

 Tom Trench, a white-haired guy with a facemask and a business suit appeared on screen. 666 News logo appeared in neon behind him.

“Breaking news! Exterminators have invaded Hell once again, with an even greater number than last year. Pandemonium is in the air as Heaven’s army slaughters citizens right and left at random, to reduce the population, as is tradition. Please, for your own safety, stay indoors and on lockdown. If you’re looking to take over new territory, please refrain from doing so during the rampage. It’ll be up for grabs after the purge…if you’re still alive, of course.”

There was a sound of glass breaking from the news room as a spear flew over Tom Trenches head.

“That’s all for today! This is Tom Trench, 666 News at 5. Until next time, have a great evening.”

Tom Trench fled the scene as an LED wearing angel eclipsed the careen and smashed it, causing static.

Alastor stood still for a moment…

“Who ho ho! What a great picture show. Wasn’t expecting that nice surprise during this time. Perhaps I should broadcast my acts of destruction on those Exterminators…”

More spears flew in the air, crackling with electricity. Alastor saw more angels fly through the overhead hole. Alastor glanced at his stinging chest.

“One more act it is then.”

 His vintage microphone staff appeared in his right hand and lit up to life. The eye in the center of the microphone moved from side to side.

“You want to take things even further, do you not?” asked a radio voice from the microphone.

“You know me too well,” he replied. “But then again, you are a part of me, so of course you would.”

Alastor lifted himself into the air with a large tentacle, red voodoo symbols surrounding him. He tapped the staff and it blinked on.

 “Well good evening, little sinners! It’s your one any only host, Alastor, the Radio Demon. Right now, I’m in the midst of a bloody battle between you citizens and the infamous Exterminators. It looks like several denizens of Hell have already fallen prey to the invaders. One angel’s beating up an imp pretty bad over there. Another demon with a spear through her mouth by the store window, doesn’t look too good for her…”

Four angels flew headfirst toward Alastor, only to be knocked back by red energy flowing from Alastor’s body. One unlucky angel got set on fire with a simple snap of the demon’s fingers. The angel let out a rather unholy yell before disintegrating.

Alastor’s hands and microphone were splattered with fresh blood. He fooled with the angels for several more minutes and spoke into his microphone. “Time for some jokes, my friends. What do you call a rejected do-gooder from Heaven?”

Alastor punched a charging angel in the face, sending him flying.

“A fallen angel! Ahhahahaha.”

Several exterminators down below were disintegrating Alastor’s shadow spirits with beams of light from their hands. One angel shot beams of light at the Radio Demon, who dodged each one. Her hair was long and blonde in the back. The angel roared in anger and shot light spears in every direction. Tentacles around Alastor blocked her attacks.

“Wow, that angel over there looks pretty mad…”

She looped and spun herself rapidly toward him, her hand in a fist. Her fist stopped right in front of Alastor’s face. He grabbed hold of her chest tight with one hand and karate-chopped her head off with his other hand.

“…I guess you could say she lost her head! Hahahaha!”

He dropped her headless body and continued swatting angels away like flies.

 After a few more moments, Alastor was getting bored. It was time for the grand finale. He stood on a platform of surrounding tentacles.

He curled his right hand into a fist, sharp pointed nails digging into his now-glowing palm. Several large drops of red blood rained down from his hand, falling to the ground.

Several flaming holes appeared in the air around the flying exterminators. Tentacles wrapped around each of their waists, binding their hands and pulling back their wings. Their harpoons were tossed into the portals by separate tentacles. At least a dozen angels were brought close together, each of them bond by tentacles.

Voodoo symbols surrounded Alastor and his eyes briefly turned dark, displaying radio waves sizzling across them. His black antlers now extended far beyond his head.

Long thick shadows rose from the ground until forming into two swirling shadows on either side of the tied up angels. The shadows slowed, and solidified into two large gray four-clawed hands. The pointed fingernails were yellow, the same color as a spot down the middle of each finger.

Indeed, the large hands were uncovered copies of Alastor’s real hands.

The staff vanished. From a distance, Alastor lined up his own hands with the giant ones, which copied his hand movements.

 Then, inch by inch, the hands closed in.

 The angels stared in fear behind their gruesome masks, struggling to free themselves from their bonds. The remaining angels outside looked on in worry. A few bowed their heads and mouthed silent prayers.

The large curved fingers overlapped seconds after Alastor slowly interlocked his own. An invisible force tried to push the palms of his hands apart. But his hands closed in more, like he was molding invisible clay to his liking.

 “For my final act of tonight, you shall witness…”

The last of the angel’s heads and struggling forms disappeared behind gray fingers and flesh.

With an evil grin and a glow of his eyes, Alastor pushed his own hands together.

The large hands closed with a shuddering shake. Muffled crunching and squelching came from inside. Alastor opened up his hand and the giant ones followed. A shower of blood, bits of body parts, and black feathers rained down to the street.

He finished in a low demonic voice, “…the Exterminators’ crushing defeat.”

Applause erupted from his microphone as the large hands deformed and sent out shadowy creatures which vanished through the last several portals before they closed. The remaining angels shivered and fled through the black hole overhead. Alastor’s antlers receded back to normal size.

 “Well, folks, that’s all for tonight. I hope you enjoyed this remarkable demonstration of my amazing power. This is Alastor, 66.6 FM. Until next time, have a splendid evening…and as always, stay tuned!”

No one said a word as the Radio Demon lowered himself to the ground. The tentacles and portals vanished behind him. He stared at his bleeding hand and wrist. Lightheadedness overtook him. He waved his hand one more time and stepped down into a portal, which soon closed above him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He was back in his lair, a bizarre home-like hideout floating in a void dimension just underneath Hell. It was a place where the Loa and dark spirits roamed.

Using so much power and blood magic had taken a bit of a stretch on his body. Gray circles were under his eyes, barely noticeable. With a yawn, he went into a bathroom to clean his wounds. The two handled faucets were made of gold and shaped like miniature deer heads. A black clawed bathtub decorated with large eyes stood in the center of the room.

After washing up and changing into a red velvet night gown, Alastor wandered past the living room, a room with a blood red rug, a couch, comfy leather chairs, and a fireplace of black flames. Above the mantle on the wall were stuffed deer heads mounted on display of various colors and states of decay. Rifles and several collected angel weapons were displayed in a darker corner of the room. Walking into the kitchen, Alastor pulled out vension deer meat from the icebox and heated it up on the stove. He hummed “You’re Never Fully Dressed” as he cooked.

After he ate his meal, he made his way into his room down the hall. Inside his room was a large bed with a leather comforter and satin red pillows. An old fashioned TV with two antennae sticking out stood nearby. Several different radios were lined up on a polished wooden dresser with a vanity mirror framed with round lights around it. Inside his closet were his suits neatly hung and shoes in a holder. Voodoo dolls resembling himself, Husk, Charlie, Angel and others were lined up in a black cabinet.

Alastor yawned again and climbed up into his bed. He soon had a small relaxed grin on his face. The lights went off after he waved his hand. His eyes dimmed and turned into small red radio dials. The droning sound of a radio powering off briefly filled the room as Alastor slept with his eyes wide open.

    Part 3: “Killing Spree for Three”

 Several years had passed since the Radio Demon had terrorized tons of provinces in Hell. It had started in 1933 shortly after his mortal death, when he fell down into Hell and was granted his powers by the Loas, Voodoo shadow spirits. Alastor, of course, had taken advantage of his new demonic deer-like form and Eldritch abilities, using his vintage microphone staff to broadcast his victories and carnage wherever he went. His sentient shadow had hovered by his side with an ever-present smile on his face like his counterpart.

During his time in Hell, Alastor had conjured looming metal radio towers and stations in the areas he had claimed. Despite being new to Hell in 1933, he quickly figured out the functions of Hell’s hierarchy.

Lucifer and Lilith were the powerful King and Queen, not to be tested with nor disobeyed. It was safe to assume that they knew everything that went on throughout the fiery realm. This was why Alastor never revealed his plans out loud…or if he did, he morphed the meaning into something more superficial.

Sinners, or those that had previously been human, were considered the lowest of the low in terms of class. They were the majority in Hell but also faced various forms of discrimination. Without his powers and charisma, Alastor would’ve fit the lowest sinner category.

Alastor was already familiar with being a societal outcast. Back in New Orleans as a human, he had been mocked and jeered at for being part white and part Creole. It was a time when racism ran rampant and white elites got to enjoy the most luxuries. If it weren’t for is mother and radio career, he would’ve rotted away in jail or in poverty.

 But unlike his previous life, Alastor was much more prepared, and powerful. The Hellborns included imps, hellhounds and other creatures born in Hell, considered “superior” to sinners. However, even the Hellborn were nothing compared to the Overlords, powerful demon rulers with abilities beyond average. Alastor had become an overlord the moment he broadcast his first massacre in a dark gnarled wood.

 It was not uncommon for overlords to not get along and to fight over turf, slaves, drugs and other commodities. Vox, the TV demon, Valentino the Porn Studio owner, and Velvet the doll demon were sometimes called the Three V villains. Vox and Alastor did not get along, for Alastor despised post 30’s technology. Alastor had also defeated Sir Pentious, an inventor snake demon who was previously born during the Industrial Revolution. Though that was so long ago, that he had forgotten who he was fighting with.

 Currently, Alastor had control over a voodoo doll and imp army, could summon shadow spirits at will and create portals to the “other side.” He even created his own interdimensional lair underneath Hell.

 Alas, just those benefits weren’t good enough. Alastor was a man constantly on the lookout for other sources of influence and entertainment. Why would he settle for anything less in his second “life?” Being one of the most powerful demons in Hell was no small feat. He required other allies and servants… those who were citizens themselves. Humming happily with his usual smile on his face, Alastor made his way into the city.

 Under the red sky, monsters and demons of all shapes and sizes wondered the pot-hole covered streets of Pentagram City. A neon Pentagram hovered over in the sky, a symbolic reminder to those below where they were. However, the demons went about their ways like ordinary humans would on Earth. Teen Hellhound females smoked cigarettes while leaning against a wall. A black furry spider demon got into an argument with a zombie over a meth purchase. The zombie punched the spider in the gut and in turn, the spider knocked the zombie’s head clean off. The head yelled swear words as it plopped to the ground.

 From inside a strip club, Angel Dust, a white spider demon was spinning upside down on a pole onstage. He was dressed in nothing but red lacy underwear, his legs spread wide for the viewers to see. Techno music was muffled by the window. Two snakes chased each other loudly and bust into the club, briefly catching Alastor’s attention. One demon spotted the Radio Demon from outside and fainted from terror. Angel Dust puckered his mouth in a kiss and waved at Alastor. Alastor rolled his red eyes in disgust and walked on.

 A vertical neon sign on a street corner displayed a yellow saxophone with white musical notes coming out of it. The words along the side read “Mimzy’s Club and Bar.”

“Mimzy…” Alastor said out loud. “That name sounds very familiar.”

He went up to open the door and walked inside.

 He was greeted by the upbeat sounds of trumpets, drums, a saxophone and even a piano not too far away. Demons wearing cowboy hats and mustaches were playing pool far in the back. Against one wall was a pink neon sign which read “Drinking” over a display of bottles. A humanoid couple dressed in Day of the Dead outfits were smooching in a booth filled with cigarette smoke. A red horned ogre dressed in gray Viking armor was serving up mugs of beer and alcohol to customers sitting on stools at the tall obsidian counter.

 Just then, a short demon dressed like a jester with a stripped hat complete with bells stood up from his chair. He looked up and saw Alastor’s pale grayish face leering down at him. The jester gasped in fright and scurried backward. “It-it’s the Radio Demon!”

The music abruptly stopped and the chatter ceased. Everyone turned to stare at him, fear, anger, and for a few, excitement in their eyes. Alastor snapped his fingers and a spotlight appeared over him.

“Hello, there fellow sinners! How are you all doing this fine evening?”

Nobody said a word.

He chuckled and held out his hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to harm anyone. I’ve just come by to relax and have a drink. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Several demons quickly shook their heads and muttered affirmations. Alastor glanced at the jazz band on stage and tilted his head. “Aren’t you going to play some tunes for us?”

The band members started their next song, making sure it was loud and catchy.

Several other demons moved out of the way to let him pass.

Alastor tilted his hand toward his chest. “Ah, such pleasant company here!”

The spotlight faded as Alastor took a seat at the bar.

The Viking ogre turned to look at him.

“Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Surely you know who I am?”

The ogre shook his head, unfazed. The others turned to the bartender, with concerned looks.

“Well,” said Alastor, “It’s nice to meet you, good chap.”

The ogre just grunted in response.

“I’ll have a small black coffee and a glass of Sazerac liquor, please.” Sazerac was one of the first cocktails in New Orleans.

The ogre nodded. “7 souls each.”

Alastor placed 13 dark coins with a small eye on each one on the counter. The ogre scooped them up in his meaty hand and turned to get the drinks ready.

“Heh, heh, he forgot to count them,” Alastor thought.

 His black coffee was soon brought out in a small white mug on a white plate. Carefully picking up the mug by the round handle with several claws, Alastor softly blew over the cup before taking a sip. A satisfying bitter heat filled his mouth. It filled his core with warmth and made him feel more alert, just like it did every morning during his past life. He took more sips and closed his eyes in content. For a millisecond, unnoticed by anyone, his face briefly morphed into his human one: light brown skin, thin pointed chin, brown eyes and short brown hair with a wave off to one side. Small round glasses were placed over his nose. Then, just as quickly, his face returned to his current one: grayish pale, yellow teeth, red eyes, red and black hair, monocle under his right eye.

 After several musical numbers had played, Alastor’s next drink had arrived. Alastor noticed something was not right.

“Uh excuse me?” he asked.

“What?” asked the ogre.

“I asked for a glass of Sazerac. Why did you get me noodle juice?”

He stared at the cup of brown tea on the counter in disgust.

The ogre shrugged. “We ran out of that kind of liquor. That fellow over there ordered the last one.”

He pointed to a shark demon finishing up the rest of his liquor bottle before smashing it on the floor and pushing open the doors.

“Heheheheh…excuse me for a second,” Alastor said.

He stood up and followed the bipedal shark outside. The visitors sitting in booths and chairs could hear muffled pounding, grunts, and stomps coming from outside. At one point, a dark tentacle appeared out of nowhere and then vanished. The gray shark’s head was slammed against the window, slowly sliding down covered in red blood. The demons shrugged, turned back around and continued chatting.

The Radio Demon stomped back into the room, smile on his face but anger in his eyes. The ogre seemed to be whispering something to someone hidden in the back. Alastor spoke to the bartender, composed, hiding his frustration. “I believe we were at the part where I asked you…why did you serve me noodle juice?”

“I already told you, we were out of liquor.”

“How does a bar run out of liquor so suddenly?”

“How should I know?”

“Do you have anything else?”

The ogre occupied himself with cleaning a mug.

“Besides noodle juice?”

A muffled giggle came from behind a set of curtains. He waved his hand and the curtains pulled back. A demon with black wings, horns, and a hat with a domino on it was laying on the floor with several empty bottles of Sazerac around him. He whispered to the ogre who turned around, “You lost the bet, you fucking lard. I told you he’d say “noodle juice” when you gave him tea.”

“I ain’t giving you any money,” the ogre whispered. “I’m the one who pranked the prankster.”

The horned demon stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. “6.6 souls, hand them over.”

Radio static suddenly filled the air. “You think I’m a joke to you?”

The horned demon turned around and his eyes met Alastor’s before he was plunged down into a portal that appeared from underneath him. The black tentacle monster swallowed the prankster demon in one gulp. The portal closed and Alastor stared at the ogre. He sat down in his seat.

“Kindly fetch me a bottle of Sazerac before I hang you from the ceiling with your intestines.”

The ogre gulped and ran out of the room. He was stopped by a sharp tentacle slicing through his chest. His mutilated body crashed down a flight of stars in the back, starling a waitress who looked like an ostrich.

Alastor tossed the tea aside and summoned a bottle of Sazerac in front of them.

“Sometimes you gotta do things yourself,” he muttered before taking a big gulp from the bottle. Despite his powers, he enjoyed it when people did things for him, like bringing him drinks. The soul coins he had given to the ogre, flew back into his hand and vanished.

  From backstage, a woman was putting the finishing touches of makeup on her face while staring at herself in a large square mirror framed in round lights. She took a deep breath and stood up from her seat. The music stopped and shortly after, a green suit-wearing alien stepped up to the stage and announced, “Our next performer, the marvelous Mimzy!” A woman walked onto the stage. Alastor looked over and his red eyes widened. His smile grew an inch more. The woman was short and chubby, wearing a pink flapper dress and a headband with pink feathers on it. Her black heels tapped against the floor in a rhythmic pace. Her face was white and her large eyes were black with hot pink pupils. She strutted up to the microphone, proud and confident.

Mimzy fluffed her short blonde hair and waved at the audience. Then she sang a lovely catchy jazz song from the early 1900s. Then she finished off with “Down in New Orleans,” much to Alastor’s delight. What a lovely melodic voice she had!

 Alastor remembered Mimzy as a blonde-haired human, she had been a worker at a jazz club in New Orleans and she and Alastor had danced together on stage. He admired her then and still admired her now. They had shared a kiss as humans but Alastor thought of her as an affectionate friend.

That was all before he went insane and killed her in a frenzy.

Mimzy had been sent to Hell since she killed her husband in self-defense and was briefly a prostitute to make ends meet.

 After Mimzy sang and stepped off to the side, another demon came up to the stage. She was tall and slender with sharp teeth in a smile, black eyes, and a large round pink hat with skulls on it covering her head. Several other demons bowed as she walked up to the microphone. She took out her pink umbrella, spun it around in a twirl and did a song and dance number: “Practically Perfect in Every Way.”

 “By the time the fire has burned the restless souls down,

I’ll tell you, yes I can,

No matter the circumstance for one thing you shall know,

My character is spite, shine, spic and span,

I’m practically perfect in every way”

 “For demons say

Each sin and misdeed knows no bounds

To hate is great and patently sound

I’m practically perfect head to tail

If you found a fault, it would be to no avail

I’m so practically perfect in every way”

 “Both prim and proper, graceful and stern

So passive, at peace yet willing to TURN (briefly goes to demon form)

I’m clean and honest, my manner refined

And I wear hats of the sensible kind

I suffer no nonsense and whilst I remain

There’s nothing much else I need to explain”

 “I’m practically perfect in every way

Factually flawless, that’s my forte

Uncanny ladies are hard to find

Unique, not meek, great matters of mind

I’m practically perfect, and never soiled

Killing like a villain with victims freshly boiled

I’m so practically perfect in every way

Well those are my credentials

Perhaps you have a few questions?”

 “Yeah I have one!” called a boar demon. “Did you copy Mary Poppin’s song and just add your words to it?”

The crowd laughed and clapped.

Rosie took a bow. “Yes, so what if I did? I did it for my audience!”

 On Earth, Rosie had been the CEO of a clothing company. She had also danced and met with Alastor as a human. She went to Hell due to forcing her employees to work long hours with hardly any breaks. Stern, elegant and vain, she was a perfectionist and it showed at her job. She did well when it came to organization, dressing fancy…and killing those who stood in her way. In Hell, she was an overlord and owner of an emporium.

Like with Mimzy, she and Alastor enjoyed singing and dancing…and terrorizing others. However, they had only gotten a glimpse of each other during their individual conquests and work.  

But now was the chance for Alastor to warm up to his lovely lady friends.

 Rosie finished her song and took a bow. Alastor clapped enthusiastically. “Bravo, bravo, what an outstanding performance!”

Alastor waved at the two performers who briefly glanced at him.

“Who’s that?” Mimzy asked, curiously.

“One of my fellow overlords. Haven’t interacted with him, though,” Rosie replied.

Alastor morphed into shadow and teleported onto the stage between them.

Both women gasped as Alastor appeared with either hand on their shoulders.

“Why hello, lovely ladies! Care if I join you?” He kissed Rosie’s hand, then Mimzy’s.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you that super-powered radio guy that terrorized half of Hell?”

“Yes indeedy. How do you do?”

“Be thankful that you’re a fellow overlord,” Rosie replied. She stared into his red eyes, “…and I’ll admit, devilishly charming. You name?”

“Alastor.”

“I’m Rosie.”

“Mimzy,” said the other lady, already blushing at the handsome stranger.

“Boo!” shouted a white demon shaped like a fox. “You’re interrupting the show!”

Alastor merely shrugged and laughed, the spotlight now on him. He conjured up his microphone staff in his right hand, which glowed red. “How about one joke before the next dance?”

“No dad jokes, get off the stage!” the fox yelled.

Alastor turned to the booing demon. “What time does my radio show start in Hell?”

“No one fucking cares!” the fox yelled.

“6:06…A-M. But thankfully, you won’t have to listen to it.”

He snapped his fingers and the fox demon exploded in a shower of guts and blood. The other demons stepped away from the mess.

Having the time of his afterlife, Alastor smiled even more and held Mimzy and Rosie’s hands. With a wave of his hand, his usual outfit turned into a red suit, and a white undershirt with a black bowtie. He now had black tap dancing shoes plus a top hat complete with stitches and two small pins sticking out.

“Embarrassing fact, I can’t tap dance,” Alastor said under his breath.

“I can teach you how,” Rosie said.

Alastor’s red eyes curved slightly into arches, his smile genuine. “I’d like that very much.”

The jazz band began to play a catchy tune. Alastor stood between the two women.

“I think you may have heard this song on the radio. Ready?”

Mimzy and Rosie nodded, already knowing the lyrics and familiar music.

 Together the trio danced and sang Alastor’s favorite song: “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile.”

 “Hey, hobo man, Hey Dapper Dan

You’ve both got your style

But Brother, you’ve never fully dressed without a smile!”

 “Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But Brother you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

 “Who cares what they’re wearing

On Main Street or Saville Row

It’s what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe that matters”

 “So, Senator, So Janitor

So long for a while

Remember you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

  After a standing ovation from the audience, Rosie, Mimzy and Alastor sat together in a both. The table in front of them had a white tablecloth over it, though it was smeared with bloodstains. A small vase of black roses was placed in the center of the table.

The brown-haired bipedal ostrich waitress came over and asked them what they’d like to order.

“Rare venison, a side of Jambalaya, and a glass of New Orleans whiskey, 1901,” said Alastor.

“Shrimp Creole with champagne,” Mimzy added.

“Bouillabaisse and a glass of red wine,” Rosie said.

 “Deer meat?” Mimzy asked curiously as the waitress walked away on her long yellow bird legs.  

“Yep. Still got the old hunter in me.”

Alastor mimicked gunshots with his hands and Mimzy giggled.

“I must say, you’re a really good singer, Alastor,” Rosie said, smiling.

“Why thank you kindly, dear.”

“Despite what many may say, even genocidal overlords need some time to unwind and relax.”

“I agree with you there. Say, how did you meet Miss. Mimzy?”

“Strangely enough, at Lilith’s Resist concert,” Mimzy replied. “Rosie wanted to sing a song for Lilith and needed a backup vocalist. Naturally enough, I volunteered.”

“Were you nervous?” Alastor asked.

“Nervous, terrified…and super excited! Me, singing with an overlord and beside the queen! It was too good of an opportunity to waste. Heh, I’m glad I did well on the stage, otherwise Rosie would’ve incinerated me on the spot. People soon heard about my performance and more sinners came over to my jazz club!”

“Oh how wonderful!” Rosie replied. She then sighed. “Nothing out of the ordinary; still beating up my workers with my cattails made from hardened cat tails. (They feel like barbed steel, despite the appearance.) They still moan and complain but it seems to work. Business is business you know. There are those boring overlord meetings, occasionally discussing politics with the Magnes, the whole 66 yards. I bet that someday, my associate Franklin’s gonna get murdered and I’ll be the head of my emporium.”

Alastor laughed. “Oh my, how intriguing. You plan to kill him?”

“No, I’ll let mother nature do the rest.”

“Don’t you mean…stepmother inferno?”

Rosie rolled her eyes. “Puns are not funny.”

“They’re punny to me,” Alastor added. “Such great classics.”

Rosie cleared her throat, “No dad jokes. Please.”

“Aw come on,” Alastor teased in a mocking tone, “I was about to do my “Radio not, here I come” knock knock joke.”

Mimzy crossed her arms. “Spoilers, much?”

 The trio’s dinners had arrived: a large rotten shrimp and clams for Rosie, Creole shrimp with demon bones for Mimzy and a fresh deer head over shrimp, rice, sausage and vegetables for Alastor.

“This is such a splendid meal,” Rosie said, satisfied.

Alastor whipped his face with his napkin. “I agree. Just as tasty as my human victims I ate on Earth. Though I will say, in regards to my…ignorant father, nothing beats the sweet taste of vengeance!”

Mimicking a choking sound, he leaned his entire head backwards with a loud crack and the others laughed.

He repositioned his head back to the front.

  Alastor raised his bottle of whisky as Mimzy and Rosie lifted their drinks.

“To eternal chaos and happiness for us,” said Alastor, “and eternal damnation to our enemies.”

“Here, here!” they all said as their glasses clinked.

 Soon, they had all finished their meals.

Mimzy then took a closer look at Alastor. “You…act familiar. It’s like I’ve known you before.”

Alastor tilted his head slightly. “You don’t say? Because I can say the same about you. I remember this beautiful singer I encountered at a bar in New Orleans. She was confident in her singing and loved doughnuts and desserts?”

“Yes…yes that was me!” she exclaimed. “Heh, being busy in Hell doesn’t give you much time to think about your past life.”

Then her eyes grew wide, suddenly fearful. “You…did you…”

“What?” Alastor asked.

“You were the one will killed me!”

Alastor’s eyes moved off to the side. “No, that was a different Alastor.”

“Phonus balonus!” Mimzy exclaimed in anger. “How many people in New Orleans have such a unique name?”

Alastor shrugged. “A lot, I imagine.”

Mimzy shoved Alastor off to the side and grabbed hold of his fancy red outfit. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“You know… I don’t like…to be touched,” Alastor seethed.

“Answer me!”

Alastor took a breath and removed her hands from his shirt. Memories came flashing back to him. “You were about to call the coppers on me. I knew I’d be caught and my life would be over. I wasn’t in my right state of mind and...”

Alastor stared down at his hands. He hadn’t felt this kind of regret and numbness since he watched his mother die and eat her remains. “Ending people’s lives…it was my only purpose…the one thing I could control besides broadcasting on the radio. I could lash out my frustrations and see results…I felt powerful when I did it, and I still do.”

He paused, unsure of what to say next. He held in his oncoming tears. “I…was holding your body, feeling regret at what I had done…”

Mimzy slowly backed away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice cracked slightly, despite his smile.

“You just ended my life because you could! I tried to stop you.”

“Sometimes, I wish you would have,” Alastor said softly. Then his regular voice came back, though it didn’t display the usual showiness in it.

“But look at you know. You have a new life here. It’s in Hell, but you’ve made the most of it. You’re a star and everyone knows it. Aren’t you happy with your life here?”

Mimzy shrugged. “It’s still better than death.”

“I didn’t really know if there was going to be an afterlife or not. I…I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.” Mimzy replied. “I lost the Alastor I knew, that day, and…and now he’s gone.”

Tears fell freely from her black eyes. Alastor wiped away her tears with his finger. “I might not be human anymore, but I’m still here. Deep down, I’m still the same entertainer, but more than that, your close friend. I swear by Lucifer that I’ll never harm you again.” He held her hands and she sniffed.

“A-apology accepted.”

Alastor lifted up the corners of her mouth. “Don’t forget to smile, my dear. You’re never dressed without one.”

Mimzy leaned her head into Alastor’s chest, then abruptly sat up, hands on her hips.

“But you owe me…big time. 666 souls, daily groin kicks, plus swimming in the lake of fire.”

Alastor grinned.

“…without extra powers.”

Alastor’s grin shortened.

“So… it’s a deal then?” Alastor asked with a smirk.

She slapped his hand away. “No deals, jackass!”

Rosie’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Okay, this is awkward. Should I leave you two alone?”

“No no no, sweetheart, it’s fine,” Alastor reassured her.

“Don’t forget the midnight overlord meeting tomorrow. Lord Lucifer’s orders,” Rosie mentioned.

“Ugh how boring,” Alastor scoffed. “One of the bad things about my status.”

Alastor and his lady friends talked and enjoyed themselves throughout the night. It was a “dinner date” but it was also a “hanging hang out.” Afterwards. Rosie came up with the name after dinner when the three of them hung other demons from trees.

Soon the three friends embraced (Alastor hugged them, then stood back) and they said their farewells. Although Alastor was tempted to turn them into his slaves, he decided against it. Using his powers on another overlord could prove tricky. And he already made a promise not to hurt Mimzy.

Alastor glanced over at a casino and noticed a black and white cat winning a gambling tournament for the third time in a row. The way the cat moved and gulped down bottle after bottle of booze seemed familiar. A cyclops demon was sitting within the flames of a fireplace inside the building, sewing a quilt.

“Hmm,” Alastor thought. “A Niffty darling…and a Husk of a gambling guy…this should be quite entertaining…”

He finished with a low laugh.

 Next time… “Shady Deals” 1973

 Next time... “Daddy Dearest”

[millennial-star-gazer]

Fire And Gold: Chapter: 2

Fire and Gold

Nalu Lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Memories, Reckless, Worship & Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: T-M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: Let the day be known when fire tested gold in the most intimate sense. The forging of a mating bond between the dragon-demon hybrid and celestial maiden while further strengthening the relationship they already have. Natsu finally confesses his romantic feelings for Lucy at and asks to claim her as his mate and queen; though not without it taking a bit for it to fully sink in for the poor, baffled woman. The first chapter is one of my entries for Nalu Lovefest 2019 and part of my ongoing Nalu (The Demon-Dragon and His Celestial Princess) anthology series set not too long after the events of the original manga/anime.(Slight Au).

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Chapter 2: Piece by Piece

A/N: Hey guys, here's the long-awaited second chapter to Fire And Gold! Fun fact: The chapter title is inspired by the Eivor song of the same name which fits the overall mood of said chapter. Anyway, just wanted to give a major kudoos and shoutout to the amazing @bmarvels for acting as my beta which included edits and further development of this chapter! Now without further ado,back to the story!    Enjoy!

(Note: Scroll down past the cut/”read more “ button  for corresponding links and the actual chapter

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Legend

Italics: Flashback/literary or song quotes (If Any of the most former )

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Piece by piece

You put me together

Till I am no longer

Broken"

"You see who I am

Deep down inside

I grow by the light of your gaze

You fill me with wonder

Fill me with hope

You have opened up my mind

I see everything in every little thing

When you're by my side"

( Eivør : Snippets of Piece By Piece)

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"Some of our friends are talking about us like we're not there ."

"Come on, Luce... don't worry about it." Natsu blithely waved off his partner's observation with a grin, clearly unfazed  by their guild mate's less-than-discreet side conversation. "You and me got way more important things to discuss. That kiss spell it out enough?"

"Yep — Message received loud and clear."

"Good—- though took ya' long enough weirdo." He teased, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Been subtly dropping hints for weeks ever since I decided try to make my feelings known. Didn't think it'd take you this long seeing how you're one of the smartest people I know. Just a bit slow on the uptake, I guess. Least' it helped knowing that you're just as crazy about me going off what I overheard from your 'girl talk' with Levy and the others. Otherwise, I woulda’ thought you weren't interested and given up trying."

"Oh... I see" Lucy noted a little more meekly than usual; heat-infused blood most likely rising in her cheeks. She couldn't help but be a tad self-conscious over unwittingly leaking the lurid details of what was honestly believed to be a discreet conversation.

My bad...

"So... uh... that's how you already knew— Oops. Ehh... That's kind of embarrassing.” Fingers were twirling a loose strand of hair in a physical display of mortification. " You really heard those, huh?"

"Yup!" The fire wizard popped the "p", flashing Lucy a smug-shit-eating-kind-of grin that set her heart a flutter. "Got hypersensitive hearing, remember? All those awesome things you were saying really fired me up, too. Anyway, you really should be more careful— never know who might be listening." He gave a wink with his usual teasing chuckle.

"That's for sure— guess I will have to more careful." Lucy's voice was a bit softer, mentally betraying herself for the other guildmates presence slipped her mind.

Man can it be a real challenge to keep anything a secret here at times...

"Definitely. It's all good though— you're still amazing, intelligent, loyal to a fault," Natsu's voice dropped lower with an extra pause between words. Not to mention the glimmer of intent in those onyx-green eyes.. The fire wizard's hand reached towards Lucy's face, calloused fingers tucking  a stray tendril of blonde hair behind her ear in a feather soft touch; before cupping the cheek of said mage who couldn't help but lean into his  palm . 

This is a completely new side  of him I've never seen before-more gentle and romantic.

"Not to mention you're sweet, caring, and an incredible wizard in your own right with plenty of spunk and a heart of gold. Definitely a great listener and super easy to talk with too — all in all an amazing and fun person to be around. Oh and did I mention how easy on the eyes you are?" 

"You.. really think so?" The celestial wizard inquired, voice sounding breathy to her own ears from being completely spellbound by her firey partner's words .

Natsu's not always much for words but he seems to be saying all the right things right now to keep me hooked. Basically putty in his hands here.

"Yeah! And I mean you seriously are the most gorgeous, sexy, and adorable girl I've ever laid eyes on. With that on top of everything else, what's not to love? You're everything I could want or need in a mate-slash-queen and more."

"Mate?" Lucy echoed in question, the last words really catching her attention. Interesting. The celestial mage's brain was buzzing swimming with piqued intrigue from the implications of Natsu what said; despite only being familiar with mates as a general concept.

I remember learning about how some animals mate for life in my lessons growing up—but don't think I've ever heard that term come up in conversation with Natsu before. Wonder what that could mean for us...

"You mean like a soul mate?"

"Exactly like that, yeah" came the dragon slayer's reply with a touch of pride; as if recalling centuries of ancient knowledge that were passed down— most likely through Ingeel. "The exact word you used is basically another term for mates that pretty sums what it means for dragon slayers. Ya probably learned growin' up bout' how some animals mate for life , right?"

"Yeah..."

"Okay, cool . So that whole thing isn't really that different for dragon slayers . Same goes for demons and hybrids—myself included- though those mates are also their queens. Oh and instead of just for life, they're soul-bonded for all eternity."

"Sounds pretty intimate." Lucy peered up at him through through the fringe of her thick lashes, the heat of his hand on her cheek still very much noticeable.

"It definitely is— believe me. Gods know how much I want you to be my girlfriend— but also far more than that at the same time. Dragons, demons, and hybrids have one person who they're drawn to- one person they're meant to be with. Not to mention the burning passion for their chosen that's unlike anything else— even by regular human standards."

"Wow..." There was so much she didn't realize, or maybe just didn't think more into about it, just how much a slayer's mate entailed. Yet, here Natsu was discussing the details to her as if it were one of their every -day conversations. Mavis knows she couldn't help the fluttering in her stomach with the way he was speaking about it all.

Normally, this would might overwhelming for some but not when it comes to the one guy I've been pining for so long. I mean it's all so exciting!"

"I know it's probably a lot to take in, but Lucy, you're literally that person for me. You're the one I've been always been inexplicably drawn to ever since we first met. The one who I see in my dreams when I fall asleep at night. The one who I'd go to hell and back for, who I'd do anything for to protect and keep safe. The one who I can't stand to be apart from for too long and whose face I wanna wake up to the rest of my life. Can't help but—" Natsu's thumbs were stroking along the curve of  Lucy's cheeks; so light, delicate, so tender, so gentle in touch that it sent electric sparks racing through her nerves . "I just can't help but want to claim you for myself and myself alone. "You're pretty much my other, better half, who I didn't even know I was searching for until I finally met you— and now I have. I don't always pour my heart out so publicly like this— ask anyone we know-but there's no one else out there for me. Never has been and never will be."

Holy hell did the celestial's heart melt delight from the sincerity resonating in each and every one of the dragon slayer's words.

Huh... Just when I think I couldn't fall any harder or be more attracted to the guy, he goes and says all this.

"It's no secret to anyone now that I've fallen for ya', Luce— hard. No going back now— you're all I see in the romantic sense. Not that others aren't important or that I care any less about them — but how I feel for you is different. Not inferior, just different. You've always been among those most precious to me... kind of like the brightest star of my universe that lights up my life in a way no else could. Damn, I sound pretty sentimental right now I don't care. Hell, said this more than once already—- but I swear I'm gonna love you with everything I've got in me. Not just today, but for all of this life and each and every one that comes after that—forever."

Holy crap does he have a way with words...

"Wow Natsu, that was something else…" Lucy was in awe, deeply touched by the stirring power of his heartfelt pledge.

"Thanks— means a lot to hear how impressed you are." "I'll say..."

"Yeah, we both know I'm more of a man of action— but my words are straight from the heart. Which leads to the question I wanna ask".

"Shoot." Lucy watched the fire eater with attentive eyes .

Wonder what else he wants to say.

"Kay, here goes. Will you let me claim you, Luce?" Nastu's voice was hopeful with just a tiny smidge of nerves . Probing, emerald eyes were meanwhile searching Lucy's face as if gauging her reaction. "Officially? As my mate and queen?"

This might be the most open I've ever seen him..

"Yes," came stellar mage's automatic reply without a shred of hesitation or second thought. Not to mention how the thrilling, romantic prospect of belonging to the fire demon for all eternity flooded her veins with a cozy warmth unlike any other.

Not only do we have an entire lifetime to spend together—but I also get to be bound to him in every conceivable way for all time? Awesome! Can this get any better?!

"I'd love to be yours, mate,queen, soul-bound—everything."

"Really? You accept?" He couldn't seem to help but double trying to contain the bubbling excitement threatening to burst from him.

"Of course— nothing would make me happier!"

"Score!"

Nastu's entire face lit up with an audible whoop just as Lucy let out a feminine squeal; from arms spinning her around after a lift .

" You... this... I can't .. holy crap this is so awesome!" The fire wizard dropped another ecstatic kiss on the moonstruck astral mage's waiting lips . "Did i mention how much I love you already, sweetheart? Well that's just too damn bad—won't ever grow tired of reminding ya for as the rest of our lives here in this world and after that! So glad that you're finally mine! I mean, I had a pretty good feeling you'd accept my claim... but hearing it directly is... Holy Crap! So stoked—like people have no idea!"

"Though I do " came Lucy's reply, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. God, was being in Natsu's arms ever incredible—absolute perfection she couldn't help but revel in.

Don't think I'll ever get enough.

Not to mention, he didn't seem intent on releasing her from his embrace any time soon if the pure adoration shining  in his eyes was any indication to go by. Not that I'm complaining.

"And you're definitely right about me feeling the same." Lucy assured him, her hands resting on his warm, well-muscled chest.

"Course' I was, weirdo!"

"Aw, look how smitten those two are!" Levy fawned over the couple from the sidelines. "Beyond sweet!"

"Yeah, I'll say" Gajeel concurred , admiration colouring his tone. "Looks like one of Salamander's official term of endearments for Lucy already came naturally to him— like it often does with other dragons slayers, demons and their mates ."

"Oh my God yes— I heard that too! I absolutely love that Natsu called her sweetheart— just as sweet as the endearment terms you have for me. Plus, can I just say how amazing it is that these two are officially an item now? "

"Definitely— I'm happy for them too."

"I know, right?!"

"Aye- they make a great couple already! He loves herrrrr!" trilled Happy in a sing-song voice. "Isn't that right, Natsu?"

"You  better believe it, little buddy!"

Damn is he amazing ... The way Natsu was practically shouting his undying love for his mate to the rooftops with exultant abandon. No wonder adoration swelled in her heart!

"Hear that, everyone?!  I love Lucy Heartfilia with all my heart and soul!"

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A/N: There you have it peeps-Chapter 2! I really don't have much to say this time except to be sure to let me know what you think by leaving a comment/review, liking and reblogging! Please feel free to stay tuned for Chapter 3 and to check out the rest of my writing. (Corresponding Links are above, in the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. Please also see my FF and A03 profiles!) All right, that's all for now folks! Thanks to everyone for the incredible show of support so far! Until next time-take care!

[cxlestialbeings-a]

So I haven't posted headcanons on here much, I guess today's the day.

This first related post will be with a bit of everything.

* * *

The brothers all look quite different, but are very alike in some aspects.

Only one of them, Stefan, actually does writing for a living. However all of them like to sometimes compose poetry, and will often try to write for their beloved. And Azrael and their mother love to read their poetry.

Stefan also has the prettiest handwriting. The exact opposite is known about Lyle, though. As he spends nearly all of his time among computers and smartphones, Lyle has entirely taken to texting people, uses a digital signature, and does everything online - as long as that's possible.

As he doesn't have much time between his work and the gym he goes to after, Lyle orders takeaway most often. The Corbeau brothers share a little secret - they all like to order their food... that's right, from their brother Kamael, who cooks best.

In thanks, they all do other things for them, and for each other. Lyle helps with everyone's devices, Marion - with any translations or anything related to languages they might need, Aster helps with ideas about design and decoration and shoots videos for products, Luceus looks after everyone and keeps up with how they are and distributes medicines, Stefan helps with organisation, and Kamael sends everyone food.

Azrael loves to collect books, much more than anyone else among the angels. So much so that some of the world's rarest books can be found in his collection - or at least the first copies made of those books.

Aside from cooking and writing haiku, Kamael is also good at making jewelry, keychains, and buttons from clay or wood, and small figurines, as well as other little objects, which the brothers like to use.

Although he hates telling lies, Stefan has often had to tell some, or make things up, so that he gets his brothers out of trouble. He also came up with a secret language he and his brothers started using to communicate when they were all in highschool. It was based off of Latin. The eight guys still often use it in their group chat.

Though he has hurt a lot of his brothers during his fights with them while possessed, Luceus has also saved a lot of them as well. After he would manage to gain control over his body after the demon would finally release it, he would run to the others and tend to their wounds. As a firefighter, he had to pick up a course on first aid and pass the exams, so he learned a lot of ways to help and save people - and he has used a lot of them.

Eventually all the demonic brothers forced the demons who possessed them to strike a deal with them. The demons were to promise they were going to try their best to stay away from hurting other humans, including the one they were possessing. The demons had to agree, begrudgingly, knowing that while the brothers couldn't destroy them, they could still very much cripple them. With time, all the brothers got used to their demons and even befriended them, and the demons stopped messing around with their lives so much.

All the brothers have developed several phobias while they were young. They all became scared of things such as syringes, needles, small spaces, darkness, and, partly, of older people. They have improved severely after deciding to go on therapy. Their fears only reappear when they get flashbacks, or they have to interact with the aforementioned objects. They have made sure their lives avoid those without causing anyone inconveniences.

While in captivity, the Corbeaus started to lose their sanity. They remained locked up for so long some days, with no food or water and being forced to fight until they fainted with exhaustion, that at some point they started wanting to hurt themselves or take their own lives. In some places, their bodies still bear the scars they inflicted themselves during their childhood.

[deltaengineering]

Summer Anime 2019 Part 1: no more intros

Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo. / O Maidens in your Savage Season

❓ There’s an outbreak of puberty in a high school literature club and things get really awkward really fast.

✅✅ This doesn’t pull any punches with the horny content and it’s hilarious.

✅ I like the characters as well, they seem to have a bit more to them than normal but they’re still likeable.

✅ Nice looking and well directed.

♎ Mari Okada’s trademark blunt writing is still there, though it works better here than it usually does. She really has gotten a lot better since she started writing more personal stuff instead of just vague supernatural seishun feels.

 Dr. Stone

❓ A mysterious disaster turns everyone on earth into stone. Several millennia later some shounen characters are the first ones to awake and they do some caveman chemistry.

✅  The idea is pretty novel by Weekly Shounen Jump standards.

♎ I have to say that for a WSJ joint, the writing is fairly tolerable as well. It’s still dumb, but not insultingly so.

❌ But in the end, it’s still WSJ and you’re still just watching a bunch of terrible looking meatheads doing basic science on the level of a YouTube primer and shouting about how awesome that is using assorted catchphrases.

❌ And it’s on the same day as another shounen-ass shounen, to which it is inferior. More on that later.

Dumbbell Nan Kilo Moteru / How Heavy are the Dumbbells you Lift?

❓ Doga Kobo x bodybuilding

♎ This is possibly the least surprising anime of the season, because all you need to know is what the Japanese bodybuilding meme is and what Doga Kobo usually does. Well, there’s no loli this time at least.

✅ Not surprising + Doga Kobo = looks good

♎ It’s not exceedingly funny but it’s competent enough at comedic timing.But some one-note jokes (such as Akemi being thirsty for muscle) get old.

✅ Doesn’t rock my socks off but it’s alright for the time being. Pretty competent and with room for improvement with more characters.

Enen no Shouboutai / Fire Force

❓ A boy with a hero complex becomes a firefighter. Since this is a shounen universe by the author of Soul Eater, this is rather literal: Get ready to punch fire demons.

✅ You ready for some DUMB ANIME SHIT? Because this is a lot of that, in a good way. In particular is gets the tone right and is neither too clowny nor too grim. Mostly.

✅✅ Looks amazing. The production is top notch and the fire is especially impressive - it better be, because there’s a lot of it. The design is also good.

❌ Shounen writing rears its ugly head again. I don’t expect subtlety, but a dozen flashbacks to Shinra’s not-very-complicated backstory plus his incessant insistence on being A HERO are not a good sign at all. At least this time the blah is limited to the thematic core instead of everything.

✅ I was entertained for now, but I’ll have to see if the good production values can keep it up and make up for the simplistic core in the long run.

Granbelm

❓ Average girl becomes magical, summons a mecha and gets involved in a magical mecha fighting ring.

✅ This looks pretty neat, seeing as it is made by the Re:Zero team.

✅ Since it’s an original, there is much less LN jank in the writing though.

♎ Still feels mostly like a mashup of very generic anime tropes - reminiscent of Mai-Hime, of all things. It might go somewhere, but might just as easily not.

♎ In particular, it might start copying Re:Zero’s derpier aspects. It already has a fondness for the ragefaces.

✅ Since it’s not in fact isekai, it is allowed to throw shade on isekai.

Joshikousei no Mudazukai / Wasteful Days of Highschool Girls

❓ Some highschool girls chat about boys and whatnot.

♎ There really isn’t much to say about it, to be honest. The characters are okay but very archetypal, it looks average, and the humor is neither amusing nor particularly annoying. It seems to have a severe lack of personality - especially compared to Maidens, which is this show with the safety off.

❌ It is, however, just far too long. These kind of mild 4koma antics wear out their welcome at full length and without anything else it becomes tedious. All the segments feel disjointed and random anyway, so there’s really no upside to yawning through 24 minutes of it.

Kanata no Astra / Astra Lost in Space

❓ Several anime characters get lost during summer camp on a distant planet and have to find their way home in an FTL spaceship they stumble across.

♎ Speaking of archetypal characters - you couldn’t put together a more anime cast together if you were making a parody. You got your spiky-haired protagonist, dim genki girl, big boobed shy fujoshi, sparkling ikemen, brooding rival, androgynous twink, glasses wearing supergenius, a tsundere and a loli. They work very hard to establish this too.

✅ Apart from this ridiculous assortment of memes, Astra leaves a solid impression. The scifi universe isn’t completely nonsensical, and the concept has potential.

✅ It’s well put together too, with good direction and high production values.

❌ The only real negative is that Astra can’t shut up about its protagonist’s backstory. There were about as many repetitive flashbacks in this episode as in the first episode of Fire Force, and it’s only not as bad because Astra’s was double length. If this remains persistent, it may be more annoying than it’s worth.

Katsute Kami Datta Kemono-tachi e / to the Abandoned Sacred Beasts

❓ In a grimderp version of the American Civil War, nobody stops to think that turning people into murderous animal hybrids might not be a good idea and might leave some grudges after the war is over.

♎ Looks average at best. If it’s trying to be Fullmetal Alchemist, I have some bad news for everyone involved.

❌ This definitely can’t be taken seriously, because it’s so contrived and on top of it the tone is all over the place. It can turn from graphic massacres to funny hijinks to inhumane experiments on a dime. To work as intended, it would need a far more delicate hand on all levels.

♎ That said, by the end of it, when there’s a pileup of tragic betrayals and one CAIN MADHOUSE turns out to be a moustache-twirling villain with a cackle to match, it comes close to being the entertaining kind of schlock.

♎ Since this was only the setup, it might be worth it to find out what the actual plot is like going forward.

The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II: Rail Zeppelin ~grace note~

❓After getting punked in the fourth Heaven’s Feel, Waver decides he wants to try his luck in the viper’s nest that is the Clock Tower (if you did not understand any of that, this show is not for you)

✅ Fate has the moneybags and moneybags make shit look good

❌ I would like to watch a dark comedy about the backstabbing and incompetence at the Clock Tower - The Death of Kayneth, if you will. However, there are only the mildest traces of this in Case Files and it takes itself far too seriously.

❌ Since I bounced off this show the second time now (there was an episode 00 a few months ago) I don’t know if I want to give this show even more chances to prove to me it’s not heartachingly dull. It’s not really funny and there’s barely any action.

♎ That leaves character drama. I do like Waver but not enough to watch him mope about his bro Iskander being dead all day. The rest of the characters are a mixed bag and evidently not good enough to keep the show going on their own.

Maou-sama, Retry!

❓ 💩

💩💩 100% of all the isekai shit and nothing else. This is highly derivative and amateur even by the standards of highly derivative amateur isekai LNs.

💩💩 Looks like absolute garbage even at ep 1. I should be happy that no talent is going to waste here.

💩 The least offensive aspect is that our MMO-reborn haxlord picks up a tiny Ramrem for casual dadfeels. It still sucks and there’s another show this season that does this better.

Sounan desu ka / Are You Lost?

❓ Comedy short about girls stranded on a remote island learning basic survival skills.

❌ One girl is hypercompetent at survival, the others are not. Hope you think this is comedy gold cos it’s all we got.

❌ show bad

Tejina-senpai / Magical Sempai

❓ Girl with breasts is an enthusiastic amateur magician and is so bad at it that every attempt ends in some compromising position.

❌ We can only afford one joke per comedy short, okay? Do you think we’re made of money and/or talent?

❌ This one is quick on the draw with the segments at least, and crams in 6 instead of the usual 2-3. So it’s theoretically less tedious, but in practice it’s all a blur of unfunny either way.

❌ show bad

Uchi no Ko no Tame naraba, Ore wa Moshikashitara Maou mo Taoseru kamo Shirenai. / If It's For My Daughter, I'd Even Defeat A Demon Lord

❓ Handsome young adventurer finds an orphaned devil child in the forest. Dadfeels ensue.

✅ So this is the one that does Maou Retry’s core aspect better. And it does it quite well, in fact; it’s cute and wholesome.

✅ Basically it’s Sweetness and Lighting with JRPG questing instead of cooking. That show was alright.

❌ However, to make up for being good at something, know that it has absolutely nothing else. The setting is off-brand JRPG mush and not even attempting otherwise, the production values are pedestrian.

♎ Apparently this turns into a fantasy version of Usagi Drop down the line. I’m not one to mark it down for that now, but that doesn’t sound too great. However, it’s questionable if 1. the anime gets there 2. the anime goes there and 3. I watch the anime enough for the problem to even arise. It’s not that good.

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 6

Chapter 6: I can’t breathe (until you’re resting here with me)

In this chapter: We get a peak at the night of the murder. In the present day, things kick into high gear and Alex faces a few of his own demons.

a/n: This is one of my absolute favourite chapters. I reread this so often after finishing it just because I love it so much. I hope you'll like it as much as me!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

The title of last chapter was Linger by The Cranberries, guessed by hmd23! Congratulations!

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

Also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

20th of October, 1953, somewhere between 3am and 5am.

Alex eyes snapped open. His heart was beating faster than it should, and for a moment he didn’t understand why he’d woken up feeling startled. Then it came back to him.

He’d been sure he’d heard someone yell out. The sensation had permeated straight through his uneasy dreams and had startled him awake. He scrambled for his pocket watch. 4:31am. Why in the world would anyone yell out in the middle of the night?

Half-groggy, but on high alert, Alex stumbled out of bed, his bad leg protesting heavily to the sudden weight put on it. Limping heavily, he made his way to the door, opened it a crack and peaked out. The corridor was dark and empty, the long-since extinguished lamps swaying lightly with the train’s movements. The certainty that he’d heard someone in distress fading with every passing second, Alex looked up and down the carriage. He looked down the long end, just in time to see a small figure slip into cabin number 4.

Perhaps that was all he heard; someone visiting the bathroom.

Deciding that his traumatized brain made a case from something that wasn’t anything, Alex closed the door, crawled back in bed and soon went back to sleep.

Present day, 21st of October, 1935

“Alex! Come in!” Maria DeLuca had opened the cabin door at his knock and her worried frown quickly changed to a lovely smile as she realized who was at the door. “My mother is resting; it’s been a very tiring day.”

Alex stepped inside the cabin, and indeed saw Mrs DeLuca asleep in her bed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms DeLuca,” Alex said in a soft voice, as he took a seat next to the window. Maria took the seat next to him. “But I have some questions that I need answered.”

“Of course,” Maria said with a kind smile, “ask away.”

“Do you and your mother have identification on you?”

“Naturally.” Maria rummaged underneath her mother’s bed for a while, and produced two sets of identification papers, which he handed to Alex.

Alex copied all of it down in his notebook. “Maria DeLuca, 22 years of age, resident of New Orleans. Occupation…singer?”

“Quite famous, too! I’ve even got a record deal coming up! People line up for blocks to hear me sing every Mardi Gras.”

Alex nodded, slightly impressed. He resolved to look up some of her music upon returning to America. “Your mother’s name…Margaret DeLuca, resident of New Orleans, retired.” Maria nodded as she took the papers from him.

“I’ve seen her looking varying degrees of ill. Is there something wrong with her?”

Maria’s smile vanished abruptly. “We…we don’t know. She’s starting to lose bits of memories. Some days she’s as sharp as she used to be, then the next she’s convinced Rosa Ortecho is standing next to her, having entire conversations with her.”

“Your mother knew Rosa Ortecho?”

Maria nodded, tears filling her eyes. “The poor girl. My mom was the Ortecho’s house maid until a few weeks before the kidnap. My dad had gotten very sick and we had to move closer to a hospital that could help him, you see. When my mother read of the case, weeks after her body had already been discovered, something broke in her. She was still my loving mom, and she took good care of me even after my father died, but there was always a kind of sadness surrounding her.”

Motive, Alex wrote down, but in his mind, he doubted it. Mimi DeLuca was barely strong enough to lift a hand of cards, let alone plunge a knife into a man’s chest. Still, it was pertinent information. “How is it that you came to be on this exact train, the same train that the murderer was on?”

Maria looked desperately upset. “I don’t know! I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. The only logical answer is some cruel twist of fate!”

“And you don’t think you or your mother…?”

Maria’s dark eyes suddenly flashed angrily, and Alex saw, for the first time, that he was better off not underestimating this woman. “Are you suggesting I or my mother had anything to do with this horrid business? Because my mother is sick enough as it is, and planning a murder is certainly not on the top of our priority list!”

“Of course. I’m sorry I asked.” Maria kept her eyes narrowed at him for a while, and Alex felt another possibility for friendship slip away from him. But he wasn’t here to make friends, he reminded himself. He had to solve a murder. Whatever it took. “Where were you around 3AM, miss DeLuca?”

“Asleep. My mother woke at around 4 to request a glass of water from the conductor. I woke up briefly because of the scuffle, then fell asleep again. We did not hear about the murder until we arrived at the scene after everyone was already awake. I did not commit this murder, Mr Manes,” Maria said fiercely, “and neither did my mother. Frankly, I’m insulted you find us capable.”

Alex rose to his feet, having gathered all he needed right now and cast Maria a sad look. “Ma’am, in my line of business, I’ve learned that everyone is capable with enough motivation.”

With that, he left.

En route back to his own cabin, with every intention of having a lie down for a while, to really mull this case over, he ran straight into Michael. “Hey, you okay?” Michael asked once more, looking concerned this time.

I swear, Alex thought privately, this man is going to give me a whiplash. “This case is giving me a headache,” he said, instead.

“Can I help?”

“That’s very kind of you, Michael, but I – ” He was cut off by a sudden loud squealing sound, a violent lurch as the train suddenly braked hard and another crash as it came to a sudden stop. Alex, already very unsteady on his feet, fell right into Michael when the train started to brake, and the force of the crash caused them both to tumble to the floor. The noise was deafening, and instinctively, Alex buried his face in Michael’s chest and covered his ears. It was excruciating to listen to the screaming of the breaks, the thudding of luggage falling over all up and down the train and then the frightened yells and screams of the passengers.

And suddenly he was on the battlefield again. The air smelled of gunpowder, blood and death and everywhere around him, his brothers were dying. Alex was barely 20 years old and not in any way, shape or form prepared for the violence that was an actual war. Clinging tightly to his weapon, he waited till he heard the enemy’s fire subside, then emerged out of the trench and fired at his faceless foe. The more people died around him, the more he realized how futile it was. How many men had laid down their lives for the simple fact that the US government wanted control over Nicaraguan waters? But it was too late to turn back now. If he stopped shooting, he would die. And he did not want to die. He came up from the trench once more but had miscalculated. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his knee in tatters and every nerve aflame. Michael’s face floated in front of him as he screamed in agony. “Alex,” he said softly. Alex smiled and reached out. “Alex. Alex!”

“Alex!” he heard Michael yell, and he felt two warm hands grab his face and pull him up. Alex gasped for breath as if he had been drowning and the reality of today came back to him in an instant. He wasn’t at war. He was on the Orient Express, which had apparently just crashed, and he was in Michael’s arms once more. Though nothing romantic was about to happen, for Michael was looking at him in alarm, scanning his face for injuries. Alex automatically did the same. Other than being severely startled, having had a pretty serious flashback, and having developed an even worse twinge in his leg, Alex didn’t think he was injured. Michael looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt as well. “You okay, love?” Michael asked softly, running his thumbs down Alex’s cheeks. Alex nodded.

“What the hell was that?” he said, his voice extremely shaky.

“I think we crashed. Come on, let’s get you up.” Michael helped Alex to his feet slowly, and when Alex put weight on his leg, it hurt less than he had expected. Thank goodness.

People were coming out of their cabins, looking ruffled and wide-eyed and some of them spotting some minor bruises or a split lip. Everyone seemed unharmed otherwise.

Michael looked at Alex again. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex murmured, who still felt pretty shaken up, “I just…had a flashback.”

Michael’s eyes flashed with understanding, and without hesitation, he dropped the tiniest of kisses on Alex forehead. Just a brush of the lips, but Alex felt it and a warmth surged through him. “After this is over, we’re going to have to catch up,” Michael said with a half-smile. Alex nodded in agreement, not voicing his very real fear of having to put Michael in jail.

Jesse Manes came bursting in through the door, looking quite the worse for wear, his mouth bleeding profusely. It looked as if he had slammed his face into something as the train crashed. “Is everyone alright?” he asked to the crowd in general, and, not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I need Dr Vale!”

Kyle came hurrying forward with his med kit, looking harassed. Behind him, Ms Beth’s arm was in a bandage. Raising an eyebrow at Director Manes’ less than impressive visage, he opened his case and rummaged in it. “Hurry up, won’t you?” Director Manes snapped, obviously forgetting he was not in the army anymore.

“Dad!” Alex said loudly, as Kyle stopped what he was doing and looked up slowly.

“Excuse me?” Kyle said softly.

Jesse Manes stilled, only now realizing his mistake. “Oh, I am so terribly – ”

“Mr Manes, you might be the Compagnie director, but these people are your passengers, who have paid for your services and your hospitality. Now I understand this day has been stressful, but I will not permit anyone to speak to me in that tone. If I hear you speak to me or any of the people on this train in that way again, I can guarantee you will never find work this side of the pond again. Do I make myself clear?”

Alex’s mouth dropped open, and he felt Michael’s shoulders shaking with barely controlled laughter even as he was still supporting Alex. There was a very tense silence, in which Alex watched his father go through several emotions including ‘murderous’ before landing on forced remorse. “Of course, Dr Vale. I forgot myself, my apologies. It’s been stressful, as you said. If you would be so kind, would you mind helping me stem the bleeding?” He was still bleeding rather profusely, and with the public dressing down he’d just received, he made a very pathetic sight indeed.

“That was the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” said Alex in a low voice and Michael snorted.

“Karma is a bitch,” Michael muttered, causing Alex to cough out a laugh. He looked at Michael, those piercing brown eyes filled with mirth, and felt his heart skip a beat. The man was still holding him upright, even though Alex was sure his leg was able to support his weight.

Just like 10 years ago, Michael was there to catch him if he fell. It had taken them a shockingly small amount of time to fall back in sync with each other. Alex opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say but wanting to talk, to touch, to really reconnect with Michael…but suddenly the outer door burst open and Beth screamed. Cold air blasted into the train, snowflakes bursting in from the cold and a large shadow exited the train into the snowy wild.

Without thinking, Alex took off.

“Alex, no!” he heard Michael yell from behind him, but Alex scarcely heard him. He was only vaguely aware of his leg protesting to this sudden sprint so soon after having taken the brunt of a very violent fall, but Alex had only one thought. Someone was running. The murderer was trying to escape.

It was freezing cold outside. Alex spared a glance to the front of the train, and his heart sank. They’d been about to pass through the Simplon Pass, but an avalanche had blocked the entrance; the Orient Express had rammed straight into the thickly packed snow.

They were stuck.

Alex’s gaze snapped around to the back of the train, where the escapee was still running. They were clothed in a big coat, making it hard to make out who this was. Alex tore after them, just as Michael jumped out to keep everyone else in. “Alex, be careful!” he yelled.

Alex called upon all the speed he’d built up in the army and sped up. No matter why this person was running, Alex couldn’t let them get away. “Stop!” he yelled, but it was useless. The wind was whistling around them both, and he only barely heard himself.

His knee protesting violently, Alex gave it everything he had and saw the distance between him and the escapee closing. The snowy landscape was hard to traverse, and they could barely see five feet in front of them, but Alex noticed the distinct change in landscape a few feet to the right; a ravine. And the other person was drawing very close to edge, Alex could already see snow beginning to crumble underneath their feet. “Careful!” he yelled. The other heard him, looked around, and lost their footing. “NO!” Without hesitation, Alex leaped for the person and pushed him away from the edge. The man – for Alex’d seen the glimpse of a beard – fell backwards, safely away from the edge, but Alex was less lucky. The snow was slipping underneath him, carrying him ever so slowly towards the edge. Oh, for the love of… He felt one foot already passing over the edge, and panic leapt into his throat. I don’t want to die, Alex thought frantically, as Michael’s face flashed before him, and he tried to scramble back up the slight slope.

“Mr Manes!” he heard, and the man jumped forward, trying to catch his hand. Their fingers touched, slipped and Alex began to slide in earnest.

“NO!” Alex was surprised that the yell hadn’t come from his own throat, but behind the man appeared Michael, like a god damn angel send from heaven. “Alex!” Michael lunged and grabbed Alex’s hand, just as Alex tipped over the edge. They both yelled in fear, but Alex felt a yank on his arm. Michael had gotten hold of him and had stayed his death a little longer. Not that it helped. Alex felt himself slowly falling again, and he saw the snow underneath Michael shifting again. Michael was slipping as well.

I’m gonna die, Alex realized. And he was taking Michael with him.

“Let go, Michael!” he yelled in a panic.

“No!” Michael looked panicked himself, but his grip remained firm as he tried to find footing. “And don’t you dare let go, Alexander Manes!” Then he directed himself to the guy behind him. “Grab my god damn legs!” he bellowed.

Alex couldn’t see what was happening. He stared up in Michael’s eyes, sure that if he was going to die, those were the last thing he ever wanted to see. “Michael,” he said softly, as he felt no change in his slow descent, “Michael, please.”

“NO!” Michael yelled, his voice cracking. “I’m not letting you go again, Alex! I don’t look away!”

“Michael, please!” Alex said, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes. “Please, don’t do this!”

Michael’s eyes were blazing with fury. “If you go, I’m going with you!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic, you two!” a third voice added, and Isobel Bracken-Evans’s face appeared over the edge. “We got you, we’re pulling you up!”

And miraculously, even as Alex hardly dared to believe it, they suddenly began to rise, Michael disappearing back over the edge, but never letting go of Alex’s hand. Alex’s free hand grabbed the edge when he could reach it and two pairs of hands appeared to grab hold of his arm.

Isobel and Kyle were there, pulling him up, while Mr Otto was pulling on Michael’s legs.

His heart pounding, Alex was pulled back on solid ground, away from the edge. When finally, finally, they were safely away, he collapsed, gasping with adrenaline, against Michael, who caught him and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Michael muttered against Alex’s temple.

Alex could only clutch to Michael’s jacket tightly, pressing his face in his chest as he tried to stave of the beginnings of a panic attack. All the horrible things that could’ve happened were flashing before his eyes. His own bloody, mangled body two hundred feet below on the snowy plains. Michael’s broken, lifeless body next to him.

“Michael, are you okay?” Alex barely registered Isobel’s soft voice as he inhaled Michael’s scent in an attempt to calm himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Other footsteps. Several shocked voices as they took in the scene before them. Alex aware that he and Michael were being far too affectionate around a far too unfamiliar crowd. But he didn’t have the strength to push away and stand up. He’d been at death’s doorstep. And he would’ve never gotten a chance to tell Michael all he wanted to – to make up, to apologize. Ten years, wasted, because they’d been so scared and cowardly.

“Michael.”

“I got you, private,” Michael whispers softly, his hands stroking Alex’s back. “You’re safe, you’re alive, I got you.”

“You really wouldn’t have let me go?” Alex finally gasped out, looking up at him. The world was slowly coming back into focus, and Michael was at its centre.

Michael smiled and the last bit of panic faded from Alex’s system. “I never look away, Alex. I told you before. I just found you again. I’ll never let you go again. And if that means following you over the edge of a damn cliff, so be it.”

“Jesus, Michael.”

“What the hell happened?!” Another voice joined the murmurs and Alex and Michael both looked up, the spell between them broken. The world was freezing again and he was alive and there was still a murderer in their midst and his father just appeared, looking disgustedly down at Alex and Michael. Alex could only imagine that he looked like his father’s worst nightmare; broken, teary-eyed, in the arms of another man. If only Alex could bring himself to give a fuck.

“Alex almost went over the edge,” Isobel said, stepping in front of Michael and Alex with her hands on her hips. “Michael saved him. They’re catching their breath.”

Jesse Manes blinked in surprise. “Did they at least catch the person who ran?”

The silence became rather frosty, a very impressive feat seeing as it was snowing. “Yes,” another voice said, “they did.” Everyone turned around. Arthur Otto stood next to his daughter, who was holding his arm and looking extremely stern. “Why did you run, papi?”

Jesse Manes didn’t wait for an answer. “Only a guilty man runs! I always knew to never trust your kind and I was right! I’m going to make sure you never see the sun again, you murderous spic!”

Alex was on his feet at once. The exhaustion, the pain in his knee, all but forgotten. “Shut up!” he yelled. Jesse became very still, a stance Alex still recognized as a first sign of trouble. “You are not in charge of this investigation, Mr Manes! I am, and you will not threaten anyone on this train while I am in charge, or you will be very sorry indeed!”

“How dare you speak to me in that tone?!” screamed Jesse Manes, getting into Alex’s face, any sense of where he was and who was surrounding him forgotten. Alex didn’t back down. “I am still your father, you ungrateful, arrogant piece of shit, and I will have respect!”

“Respect is earned, and you have done nothing in my entire life to earn it!” Alex yelled back.

“You have never done anything to warrant giving you respect!”

Dr Kyle stepped forward, looking extremely angry. “Your son is a decorated war hero!”

Jesse Manes didn’t even seem to hear him, he just raged on, with the air of a man who was finally letting out what he’d been holding back for years. “You didn’t even have the decency to be normal, you had to be a fucking faggot to boot! You are disappointing, disgusting, despicable – ”

It happened in a flash. Alex was pulling back his fist to plant it firmly in the face of the man who called himself his father, but Michael had beat him to the punch – literally. Alex hadn’t realized how strong Michael had become in the ten years since he last saw them, but Jesse Manes went down with a single blow. Alex was convinced he saw a tooth flying. “You can no longer speak to Alex that way, not as long as I have anything to say about it!”

Jesse Manes looked shocked at this turn of events. He was cradling his jaw and Alex was looking forward to seeing a bruise form there in the next few days. He looked up at Michael, his eyes flashing with the same hate he always reserved for Alex. “My, my, you’ve finally learned to throw a punch. Lucky for you I didn’t get your good hand last time, huh?” His eyes flicked down to Michael’s left hand and Alex saw it spasm violently.

“You’re a fucking child,” Michael spat, his voice dripping with disgust and hatred. “You think respect and control come from violence. Yet these people, the people Alex is investigating for murder, respect him more than they do you. You are nothing. You have always been nothing. The only difference was that you were stronger than either one of us. That has changed. Touch either one of us again, and you will be very sorry indeed.” He stepped forward, his fist raised, and Jesse Manes flinched violently.

“Michael!” Max Evans stepped forward, looking stricken. “Enough, man. He’s got the point, I think.”

To Alex’s surprise, Michael dropped his fist, his fingers unclenching, a sharp breath exploding from him. Then he turned to Alex. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, then immediately felt his knee give out. “On second thought, not so much.” He buckled and Michael caught him effortlessly. “Alright, now that that’s dealt with,” Alex said, casting a disdainful look at his father, still bleeding on the ground. “Mr Otto, I would like an explanation, if you please.”

Mr Otto looked extremely white from all the excitements, and his daughter nudged him hard in the ribs to get his attention. “Oh! Ah. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, when the train crashed, I knew it was my only chance to get away…”

“Aha! See, escaping the scene of the crime…!” Jesse Manes began.

“I swear to God, one more word out of you…” Michael snapped, who did not finish his sentence, but Director Manes got the point. He lapsed into grudging silence.

“Yes, to get away. But not to flee the scene of this crime.” He looked at Alex intently. “I did not murder that man, Mr Manes. But I overheard your father talking to one of the other staff one day…said he could only suspect me, as I am the only person who could’ve done it; the DeLuca women and Beth being too weak, and Dr Kyle having taken an oath. I ran because I knew if it was up to Jesse Manes, I would be convicted on the word of a racist white man. And I’d rather live out here in the middle of nowhere than go to prison as a Latino man.”

Alex sent his father an absolutely hateful look, but his father seemed unremorseful in his racism. Alex could murder him. “Alright, everybody inside, to the dining carriage. It’s getting too cold out here. Dr Kyle, if you would escort Mr Otto.”

Everyone started towards the train, leaving Manes in the snow. Michael supported Alex all the way, and Alex was glad off it. His leg was aching worse than ever, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to put his weight on it for a day or so. Michael carried him singlehandedly up the stairs and into the carriage, and they laughed about it for a moment, before continuing to the dining carriage, where it was, mercifully, warmer.

Beth was standing next to her father, her arms crossed, looking extremely cross with her father. “Alex!” she said, when she saw him, waving him over. He and Michael made their way to their table. “I want to apologize for my dad. He shouldn’t have run. He panicked, thinking Jesse Manes had maybe called in the cavalry to arrest him.” Next to her, her father nodded.

Alex sighed. “Look, I get it. My father is…yeah. But I have to consider all the facts…”

“Mr Manes, I swear my father couldn’t have done it. I was with him all night – ”

“Beth – ” Max Evans tried to step in, but Beth continued, without missing a beat.

“– after I came back from Max Evans’ – ” Alex registered Max relaxing slightly, “ – I was reading some medical journals for most of the night and checked on my father periodically because he has heart issues, and my father was asleep until we were awoken by Isobel, I swear!”

Alex glanced from her to Max for a second and saw their eyes jump to each other for a fraction of a second. Something was going on between the two of them, but Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Beth’s story only barely held up under the lightest scrutiny. But even if she wasn’t telling the truth about seeing her father, at least her and Max’ story seemed to match up. And that covered her for the murder. His head was aching. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lights swam behind his eyelids. That couldn’t be good.

“Alex?” he heard Michael whisper.

“Mm,” Alex merely muttered. “Alright. Well, it seems that we are stuck here for a while. Nobody leaves this train without my supervision, is that clear?” Everybody nodded mutely. “Michael, can I have your master keys?”

“What, why?” Michael asked, looking startled.

“Because I’m the only one not a suspect in this case so I need those keys somewhere I can keep an eye on them, please, Michael.” He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but his vision was getting blurry, his head throbbing more and more by the second. He had to lie down, and soon.

“Alright,” Michael acquiesced, looking startled and handing over the keys. Alex limped towards the outer door, locked it, and put the keys in his pocket.

“Go to your cabins, everyone. I need to rest, and we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

People moved past him, murmuring and shooting him concerned glances. Michael stayed close to Alex, looking concerned. “Michael, can I speak to you for a moment?” Alex managed to say through gritted teeth. Without waiting for an answer, he limped towards his cabin and entered it, Michael following close behind.

“What is it – ?” Michael began, but it became very clear what. Alex nearly collapsed and it was all Michael could do but to catch him. “Wow! Alright, I got you, private, I got you.”

“Can you help me?” Alex asked, his voice weak and trembling. “I don’t – I don’t think I can – u-undress mys-self.”

“Of course, Alex. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He helped Alex to his bed, set him down and started undoing the laces to his shoes. Alex slumped against the back wall, his eyes closed. Michael’s hands were gentle as he helped Alex out of his shoes, his socks, his pants and shirt. At any other time, the atmosphere between them would be charged, but Alex was near in a coma and Michael understood exactly what Alex needed. He helped him into his pyjamas. His soft touches lulled Alex into something resembling sleep and he felt warm and safe for the first time in a while.

“Alex,” he whispered, and Alex forced his eyes to open a fraction. “Lay down, love.”

With gentle pressure from Michael, Alex managed to swing his legs onto his bed and rest his head on his pillow. A very ungentlemanly groan passed his lips as his entire body began to ache into the mattress. Suddenly, Michael’s hands were on his bad leg, rubbing it softly, warming the aching muscles in his calf and knee. Alex hummed appreciatively and closed his eyes again. He slowly felt his body relaxing into Michael’s touches. His body was exhausted, the adrenaline from nearly dying finally wearing off and he was sure he was asleep. That is, until he felt Michael’s hands leave his leg and his lips against his forehead. “Sleep tight, Alex.”

Alex’s hand shot out, grabbing Michael’s arm as he made to leave. “Please don’t leave,” he muttered. His eyes opened slightly, looking up at Michael through his eyelashes. Michael’s face was soft, and a small smile played around his lips.

“Alright, Alex.” Michael shed most of his uniform, leaving him only in his boxers. Then he climbed into bed, settling himself behind Alex and slinging an arm over him. Alex’s eyes closed again, and he burrowed himself against Michael’s chest. Michael’s arm tightened around him, pressing a kiss to the back of Alex’s head. “Go to sleep, Alex. I’m here.”

Alex dropped to sleep faster than he ever had before.

[trashboatprince]

I was talking with Dober about something I had in mind about how Henry escapes the loops in the Beast Bendy au, and I figured that in order to end a fantastical story, you need to introduce an element of reality.

Here’s what I came up with.

On with the fic!

--

It’s been at least twelve loops since Henry last realized that he was stuck in a story, he knew everything and he was aware of what’ll happen when he steps foot in that kitchen.

He looked around the living room, the bright colors were always a welcome, no matter how many times he saw them. The sepia and black were getting really... annoying. Beyond that, actually.

Shaking his head, Henry needed to focus, he had to do this.

He remembered the last time he could remember a loop that he needed to break out of this story. He had discussed a million and one ideas with Boris, who sat confused, but supportive. Henry had finally decided on something that may or may not end this nightmare.

The world was a story, a fictional story that involved real people playing parts without any awareness of their true selves. Real people who were now fictional, and Henry was the only one who knew he was a character in the story.

He was the weird link between reality and fiction, and he wasn’t sure if Joey knew this. Joey never made any mention to it, never really changed anything, unless if he was the reason why Henry forgot he was stuck in this hell, or giving him the nightmare flashbacks in order to spice things up.

But if Joey was unaware, then Henry could execute his plan.

The one good thing about being under this strange ‘spell’ that his old friend put him under, Henry couldn’t speak until he stepped foot into the studio. Joey was completely unaware of him until he stepped into the kitchen, so this gave the animator full range to move about for as long as he wanted without being noticed.

He remembered once he spent probably an hour just looking over Joey’s storyboards and cork board. He did everything he could to avoid seeing the man. At least he knew that in the real world he could see his reflection again. Henry looked perfectly clean, just as he did the day this whole thing started, yet he knew that just moments before he looked a mess.

Quietly, Henry stepped into Joey’s bedroom, digging into a dresser to find something, anything that could hold onto the items he needed for his plan. He nearly grinned when he found an old canvas bad under a pile of slacks. This should work perfectly for what he needed.

Next, he stepped into the living room and Henry made a beeline for the shelf by the door.

Sitting on it were the real totems, not the clearly-drawn ones he had collected over and over again. The bottle of ink was real glass, still full of ink from so long ago. The gear and wrench were one-hundred percent metal, not metal-like. The record was worn, but it still read ‘The Lighter Side of Hell’ on it, mentioning Sammy’s name. He took these four items down carefully, setting them in the bag. 

Next, he grabbed the book, The Illusion of Living. He had flipped through it a few times, not a fan of it’s contents. He knew Joey published a book, he had read the one that was sold, but it was just stuff about the animation industry. No, this copy was exclusively for Joey, for what he did with the Ink Machine, the studio. This went into the bag as well.

The last totem was the Bendy doll. Henry carefully picked it up, it was actually a really cute toy, even he had one at home. The devil toy smiled happily up at him and Henry sighed silently.

‘Don’t worry, Bendy, I’ll fix all of this and get you out of there.’

The doll went into the bag and Henry turned his attention to the television. Joey watched the story from there, he knew it, he had figured it out ages ago. Approaching it, he gave the thing a good kick, causing the screen to glitch, showing that it was displaying static over the images. He ruined the reception, would probably take Joey a bit to get it fixed where he could see Henry’s adventure clearly.

Good, that bought him some time to leave the real totems on the podiums. With that, Henry made his way to the kitchen.

He was quick to step behind the breakfast counter as Joey gave his speech, setting Henry into the story. He had enough freedom to hold onto the bag, but Henry knew that his feet would take him into the studio.

The animator prayed that Joey wouldn’t see the bag.

“There’s something that I need to show you.” Joey spoke, gesturing to the door. Henry swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling nervous, sick, as his feet carried him to the death trap that waited for him. He spared a glance, seeing that Joey turned away to the sink.

Henry stepped through the door and was plunged into a world of sketches and monsters. He went through the motions, his body naturally doing what his character was meant to do, find the Ink Machine Room, bring up the machine, then start the power.

Well, when the animator arrived to the Break Room, he began to place the totems in their correct spots. Book, wrench, gear, inkwell, record, doll, each item made him sense something was... different.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but something felt different about the air as he set the Bendy totem down. It became oddly silent, everything felt so still, and then he heard the typical sounds and Henry huffed.

Okay, that had to be a good sign.

Quickly, Henry ran to start up the pump, but when he exited the theater, the normal thumping in the pipes he heard were louder. He swore he heard a loud growl, reminded him of the Beast form of Bendy.

Now, only one thing left to do, encounter Bendy and see what changes there.

Henry made his way to the Ink Machine Room, seeing that the boards were there. Alright, time to do this...

He got within a foot of the doorway, and Bendy wasn’t there.

Oh. This... might be a bad-

He realized that Bendy was there, but standing by the controls for the lift for the machine. He was growling lightly, his head tilting in a questioning way, his grin shaking violently. Reminded Henry way too much of what Bendy did after he decapitated the Projectionist.

“Bendy?” He quietly questioned, before noticing that the gear totem was at Bendy’s feet.

The Ink Demon knew the ritual was performed differently.

Henry suddenly fell backwards when Bendy screamed, rushing forward and slamming into the wood. The boards actually cracked, nearly breaking off of the door frame with that attack.

A long arm reached at him as Bendy screamed again, the normal situation starting up as it should, with pipes bursting and ink running down the walls. Henry took this as his cue to run, and he did, making his way towards the exit. He was on autopilot, he didn’t even notice the faint glowing words of the walls.

At least, not until he fell and landed in the room several stories below. Henry was surprised to see his writing from previous loops showing on the walls. Was this a side effect of him using real objects for the ritual? He figured that if he used the real totems, things would change, this was not one of the things he expected. Neither was Bendy just standing there, but...

Well, he would just have to see what else changed in the story. After all, it’s been a while since it’s had a rewrite.

END

--

I figure that introducing reality to a fictional world would change things up.

[arkus-rhapsode]

My Hero Academia Chapter 211 Review

Ummm, Early chapter this week. But were on break next week soooo... I guess this is fine. (Note: there has been an edit made to this review to respectfully not spread any misinformation) 

So w e oddly start this chapter with a little character background from Monoma. Apparently he always wanted to be a hero, but due to the fact that his quirk can only copy others, he will have to depend on others which is not what an active hero should have to do. I actually really like this cause its something we ever got from any other 1-B student, the motivation behind their path. It always made them feel a bit more shallow, so I appreciate Monoma getting a scene like this.

Also he now compares himself to Shinsou. How the two are the same is the fact that their heroic aspiration were denied based on their quirk. The difference though is Monoma still made it into the hero program and not Shinsou.

Now this scene, of Monomaa saying that doing unhero like things to those who are more gifted is okay, is likely reflective on the fact that being a hero is also a popularity contest in this world. To stand out and inspire, you’ve gotta be the best, and sometimes to do that, you do some things you might not be proud of. And with a mentality like that, its easy to see why someone like Stain is so pissed at society when it churns out heroes that will willing do un-heroic things. But then you can’t blame Monoma and Shinsou who are just trying to do their best, but given their genetic lottery they have to work harder than most.

But enough of this flashback, we need to cut back to the present where Deku is slowly losing control.

So Deku’s new black energy is emerging from his arm and Deku is quite literally fighting back against is. Monoma wonders if this is a new power to which I’m gonna save my thoughts on this till later.

Yeah Deku, its almost like the plot decided to fuck you over for the sake of this twist that I’m pretty sure no one wanted and that we could just keep to the usual flow of this arc, but no, we had to veer off in this direction because-Okay okay, I’ll save that for later too. I should really speed this up.

So its turns out that black stuff isn’t actually lightning, but more tendrils. Yeah cause that’s what One for All needed, tentacle hentai. Actually with theses black tendrils, now every fan fic writer who made a Deku as Venom AU (yes those exist) has just been justified.

Anyway, Deku releases what looks to be a beam of energy (I honestly can’t tell) and fires it off at Monoma who Deku at least warns to run.

Okay so, first off, good job Monoma. I’m glas we did make a joke out of Monoma being arrogant enough to think he could handle this. Second, what the fuck is wrong with class 1-A. I’m not saying they should act like they just watched a puppy get shot, but their classmate literally seems to be destroying everything. Now you could say that Todoroki did the same thing when he cranked up the heat, but the difference is that fire is a part of Todoroki’s quirk. Black tendrils has never been apart of his power. I know that not every kid in a classroom has to know or care about all their classmates, but I’d be concerned.

Third thing, So it seems OfA really is sentient as its jittering and moving around like it has some sort of self awareness. And finally, Yup. Can’t control your power. After we had come such a long way, you somehow are forced back to square one. I’ll talk about it later as the darkness begins to overflow.

Gotta feel bad for 1-B who just came here for an exercise, now they might die by black energy.

We see the darkness start sticking to objects (wow it really is Venom) and hoists Deku into the air. Yeah, I don’t now is this is something a user of one for all cold do, but boy its a little goofy. Uraraka and Shinsou seems to be the only people who now gives a shit about how this darkness is surging.

We now see this darkness is actually fighting against Deku, smashing him into a wall. All Might, makes a good fucking call and wants Aizawa and Vlad to shut this down. Which I’m sure Aizawa is perfectly fine with. Vlad has also had like no lines this round, like I’d love to hear his commentary.

(Yes, I realize there is an eye looking thing in the darkness, but it took me so long to find that I’m honestly might not even be sure that it is an eye.)

This scene... Breaks my heart. This in a nutshell was why I’m so opposed to this twist. After 200 chapters, Deku finally, FINALLY, doesn’t have to worry about hurting himself. He can now catchup with everyone else and it was finally time to show it off, but now. Now its fighting back. One for All is literally making him lose control when there should be no reason for him to. Has Deku master One for All? No. So there was still a chance things would go wrong, but not like this. Why? did it have to be the moment when finally the first year is coming to an end does One for All show that Deku is still not ready.

And Deku’s reaction to this is perfect for this. He’s not thinking about how he should be strong enough to resist this, showing he grew to arrogant and this is teaching him a lesson. No, Deku is sad. He’s upset that after all this time people didn’t have to worry for him. He was now strong enough to fight like Bakugou and strong enough to make 1-B actually consider him a threat, but now... Now he’s lost control.

Now it is possible that this is do to quirk singularity a topic that I’m doing a post on later, but in short it was brought up about like 50 chapters ago and its when a quirk becomes something that humans can’t control anymore. But again, talking about that later.

I’ve heard the possibility that, this darkness is actually One for All in a sentient state. Much like the previously mentioned before quirk singularity. That this is like genes being passed down so long and growing complex enough to the point that they are no longer controllable. Now there have been plenty of theories that have come out about this, but out of all of them, in general they likely relate to this. The darkness is literally fighting back against Deku as sign of his lack of more than 20% control and thus the quirk seems to quite literally be swallowing him whole. It feels like if this is the case, then Horikoshi realized that he made it so Deku was now fully protected from damaging himself thanks to his quirk. But he could just make it seem like Deku was just arbitrarily growing stronger without having any difficulty, so he developed a way for Deku to quite literally fight himself in his struggle. It was no longer limb destruction, Deku is literally fighting so that he has the right to use this quirk to its fullest extent.

If that is the case, I can’t say I agree with it. Look, I’m sure anyone could say that this doesn’t bother them. That this makes it so Deku and One for All are like Naruto and the Nine-tails, Ichigo and the hollow, Asta and the demon, etc. And those aren’t things I’m opposed to and are things that I enjoyed. But this isn’t the same. The monster inside that gives you more power worked for those series because that was their power system and world allowed for that. But MHA, quirks are more similar to Goku and Luffy. Their abilities are what is to be heightened and their second release: Super saiyan and gear two, are derivative of their competence of their biology and their power. And Deku was like that. He has a quirk that has nine generations worth of power in it and to use that power he had to learn how to take more in. His super saiyan was him at one million percent. It would destroy his body, but for a time he could use all that power. But I guess this new problem has occurred and we’ll have to see where it goes.

Anyway, the chapter isn’t done as Uraraka floats up to him.

So Uraraka is holding down darkness Deku and calls out to Shinsou and that’s where our chapter ends. Now, if people remember my FT reiewing days, they’re probably to call this a BS ship moment that defies reality and serves to pander a single fanbase. Well, no. Cause that’s not what this is. Uraraka is doing what a hero should do. She’s trying to save someone in danger, and this isn’t presented as this overtly romantic moment like say Sakura hugging curse mark sasuke, no this is actual danger that isn’t stopping so Uraraka is at risk of getting hurt here.

Now, I’m not saying you can’t take this romantically, I mean there is a lot of evidence that the two like eachother, I’m just trying to say, power of love, isn’t what’s stopping this madness, hell its evident that Uraraka needs Shinsou and his power to try and stop it. So this trope is still being done, but there is some logical weight to the solution.

Post Chapter Follow Up: So I wanna first say, this chapter is really short. Like its about 13 pages and it has very, very little dialogue. I did almost felt like I was reading a Bleach Chapter, but in fairness, this had a lot more detailing and was clearly used more as a way to show the sheer scale and weight of what the hell this thing is. Plus more detailed art, so I don’t thing the bleach comparison is entirely fair.

I am disappointed with the page count, given the break next week, I would’ve really appreciated we ended on more of bang than this. All its done is left me wanting more, but not in a very good way.

In terms of negatives, this chapter has pretty much confirmed team Deku vs team Monoma has gone off rails and that our conflict is going to actually be how do we solve this darkness. Last week, I talked about my thoughts on why I’m not a fan of that as this seems like a transparent way to make deku lose as well as seems to imply that Horikoshi had no real intent on making this fight actually work with their combatants. This not only makes this exercise feel like it will ultimately be pointless, but as I said, it screws Deku out of getting to go plus ultra while everyone else got to show how far they’ve come.

One could say that seems like bias and that the point was to get shinsou to help with the vestiges, but that doesn’t fully work cause there had to be other ways than this to make it so Sjhinsou would have to work. I mean, this was that same problem I had with the overhaul arc at the end. It was gong fine until Ryukyu dropped in with a powerup for Overhaul and then deku had to use Eri like a power-up and it just became a cluster fuck. I’m not against twists mind you, all arcs need them, the one he did with Gentle was great in my opinion, but these twists overall hurt the story cause the story was going great up till now and we’ve entered cluster fuck land.

Now look, I’m not gonna let my own opinions impede my objective view point. This twist was built up to. As we saw with the mark on Deku’s hand as he used One for All in his sleep. The fact his quirk has been feeling funny, and the fact that All Might seemed curious about this. So I can not in all good conscious call this a bad twist, but it is still one I don’t agree with.

Other positives are definitely the characterization. Aside from us getting Uraraka getting to act like a savor, we get some great development for Monoma. My only issue would have to be the timing of it. He doesn’t do much this chapter. You’d think that this would’ve been used before Deku went all darkness on us.

So what will the final verdict be. Initially I was thinking of giving this a below average, but maybe because the more chew on to this, and the more I see others reactions to this, it seems this hits that uncomfortable spot of being up to the reader to tell if they liked it or hated it. And those are always hard because there is a fair amount of good and nothing I can call really bad, but that good really isn’t enough on its own so there is an enjoyment factor that can’t be accounted for. Kinda like Aquaman. So where do I stand on this? well I have to be honest with myself as this is my review and I gotta say.

Final Verdict: 5/10

This is something you need to experience yourself to really tell if you enjoy this twist or not

There is some good action and good character development

The pacing feels rushed and there isn’t enough time to fully show this off satisfyingly

I do like the ending

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 1x03 Earth Kills

I’m a new fan of The 100, who first binged it last year, August to November. This is my first full rewatch of the show. I was planning to start it anyway and finish it before the season 6 premiere on April 30, and when I saw that Fox Serbia was airing a rerun (Monday to Friday, 40 min. after midnight, with repeats the next day), starting on 1st February, it was a great opportunity to start my rewatch in HDTV on my beautiful new TV. I decided to do write-ups and tag other fans on SpoilerTV website, as I did when I was first watching the show. But my posts turned into full blown essays. So, finally, after over a week, I’ve realized: Why don’t I post them on my Tumblr blog, too? I’ll copy my write-ups of the first 7 episodes, and then I’ll post my rewatch posts after I watch each episode. (The next one, 1x08, is on Monday’Tuesday.)

Spoilers below for all 5 seasons of the show. I go of on a tangents and make a lot of references to future events.

...

Wow, the show actually got good pretty quickly. After how bad much of first two episodes was, full of cheesy teen soapy stuff, I was surprised how solid 1x03 was throughout - I wouldn't be embarrassed to show it to someone to show what The 100 is like. I remember that I found 1x03 and 1x04 a real improvement the first time as well, but I was still unsure about the show till 1x05. I think it's because there's again some teen soapy BS at the end of 1x04, which put me off big time the first time I watched it, since I expected the worst, especially with the Clarke/Finn/Raven love triangle, but now I know that this storyline was resolved in a surprisingly good and not at all cliche way. Still, I was mildly annoyed by the ending of that episode.

Rating: 8/10

The acid fog! I had forgotten that it turned up in the show and played such a significant role so early. The Mountain Men were already killing the Delinquents 10 episodes before they even showed up and interacted with them directly. It killed 3 people - Trina and Pascal (random couple that we first saw just before they died), and Atom. (Atom also has the distinction of bein Octavia's first love interest on the show. Love interests tend to die a lot in this show in general, but in particular, so far everyone who's made out or had sex with Octavia so far has ended up dead.) And then at the very end, in the twist ending, Wells, the first dead main character, killed by another Delinquent, 12 year old Charlotte. I know that they wanted to kill off a main character to show how edgy the show was, but I remember didn't find Wells' death that much of a surprise at the time - that it happened so quickly, yes, that was a surprise, and that a little girl killed him, but I had already been expecting him to die and wondering how long he'd survive, with so many of the Delinquents hating him because of his father. Charlotte has something in common with Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia and Murphy - parents executed by Jaha. Awww, the early season 1 Clarke - so innocent and full of moral certainty, "saying things like "This isn't the Ark, down here every life matters", and pretty open about her feelings, before she started to bottle them up. I loved it when she said to Finn: "Why is it a bad thing that I don't want Jasper to die?" Yes, exactly! It annoyed me so much that he and others were acting like her trying to save a person instead of go around having fun and not giving a damn was so weird. Clarke's speech to Charlotte early in the episode, talking about the traumatic past on the Ark: "All the pain up there... maybe all that is behind us. Maybe now we have a second chance on the ground." Well, that didn't work out But maybe now they will have the third chance on the other planet. Our first flashbacks to the Ark - memories of happy life with the Griffins and the Jahas, before Jake Griffin decided to tell the Ark the truth, and got executed by his friend Thelonius (this is also the first time we see a person getting floated - which reminds me of Battlestar Galactica, which had many scenes like that), and Clarke got locked up for a year. 16-year old Clarke and Wells, and their dads, happily watching some 140 year old tape of a soccer match. Of course, this kind of happy life - while just normal by our standards - was the privilege of the elite on the Ark. In 1x06 we get to see very different flashbacks of the Blake family. Even the living quarters of the Blakes are very different and shabby. But at least they had books - books are always the cheaper entertainment. Finn is probably at his nicest and most likable in this episode. It doesn't last long, but at least in this episode he figures out that Wells is letting Clarke believe he betrayed her father to cover up for her mother. Finn figures it out and makes an effort to fix Clarke's friendship with Wells. Although, if I were to be cynical, I'd say that it's not an accident that he did it only after he had asked Wells if he and Clarke had ever been an item, learned that they had not, and concluded he didn't have to fear Wells as competition. And now that Clarke has realized the truth, we get the beginning of the multi-episode mini arc about Clarke's resentment of her mother for getting her father killed. But to be fair, Abby clearly never expected Jaha to actually execute Jake. Though the first time I watched the show, I didn't understand how she could still be friends with Jaha after that. I guess she could justify his actions by the idea that life on the Ark was tough and they had to make sacrifices etc. The show sort of comes back to this plot in season 4, when (in 4x11, after Clarke and Jaha has stolen the bunker), Jaha expects Abby to be OK with Kane being sacrificed, and Abby is like, nope, not this time. Murphy is getting very obnoxious in this episode, which is kind of a prelude to the next one. Before he was just antagonizing Wells, which was unfair to Wells but to an extent understandable since we know that Wells' dad spaced Murphy's father, but now he spends most of the episode complaining about hearing Jasper's cries of pain and saying he should die already. Meanwhile Bellamy gets to show his sensitive side, naturally, because there's a little girl nearby that he wants to be a big brother/pseudo-father to. It's kind of funny when people try to argue that it was OOC for Bellamy to put a chip in Madi's head so she can be a Commander because she's just 12 and he's protective of kids. He is, but his idea of protecting them is a bit different and consists of, say, giving 12 year old Charlotte a knife and teaching her to defend herself: "You cannot afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death". Since he was told at the age of 6 that he needed to be his baby sister's protector, his idea of childhood may be a bit different than most viewers'. Monty about Bellamy, earlier in the episode, angry about his comments on Jasper: "Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself". This is just one of the times in these episodes that people make such comments about him (Finn says Bellamy cares just about himself, after they learn about him throwing away the radio in 1x05), pretty obvious irony as we learn more and more about how his entire life and his motivation is all about protecting his sister. Clarke is also playing an almost motherly role to Charlotte. Both Clarke and Bellamy have this tendency to play a parent to others, including, sort of, to the Delinquents .But this time it spectacularly backfires - Charlotte misinterprets Bellamy's advice to "slay your demons" and uses the knife to kill Wells, and she does it imitating the way she saw Clarke mercy kill Atom, and singing the same lullaby Clarke sang. That moment when Clarke mercy kills Atom is a pretty important one for the development of Bellamy's and Clarke's relationship - earlier on he was doing that thing that characters in post-apocalyptic shows often do, when they say things like "You don't have the guts to make tough decisions", which is usually about killing someone (Kane had similar lines in the Pilot) - or in this case, mercy-killing. He claimed he was going to kill Jasper if he doesn't get better by the morning, but later was obviously finding it hard when faced with the necessity of mercy killing Atom. One more early sign that Bellamy didn't really find it easy to kill people. Clarke doing that instead of him and gently killing Atom after singing him a lullaby is a really good scene, and you can see from Bellamy's face that it's the moment when he really gains new respect for Clarke. Clarke has probably seen her mother do that to patients quite a few times, Sadly, this is not the last time these two will get to have important bonding moments over having to kill people. That's how messed up their lives and the situations they are put in are. To be fair, the show does show a scene of Octavia mourning Atom. Then they have the next episode take place a week later, which is a nice excuse to never have him mentioned again. Also a nice excuse to show just one scene of Clarke mourning Wells in 1x04 and then never have her mention her childhood BFF again.