#New Orleans opens flood gates

[momlovesyoubest]

Need a Midlife Family Meeting for Aging Parent Disaster Plan

 MidLife Sibling Meeting Needed for Global Warming A midlife sibling meeting needs to be convened after the catastrophic global warming nightmare of Hurricane Dora unleashed on Maui, where 1000 people missing many probably older residents who could not get out quickly creating a midlife sibling nightmare.  The identified dead are all elders. Scores more victims will be identified in the weeks and…

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Seas have drastically risen along southern U.S. coast in past decade (Washington Post) Scientists have documented an abnormal and dramatic surge in sea levels along the U.S. gulf and southeastern coastlines since about 2010, raising new questions about whether New Orleans, Miami, Houston and other coastal communities might be even more at risk from rising seas than once predicted. The acceleration, while relatively short-lived so far, could have far-reaching consequences in an area of the United States that has seen massive development as the wetlands, mangroves and shorelines that once protected it are shrinking. An already vulnerable landscape that is home to millions of people is growing more vulnerable, more quickly, potentially putting a large swath of America at greater risk from severe storms and flooding. The increase has already had major effects, researchers found. One study suggests that recent devastating hurricanes, including Michael in 2018 and Ian last year, were made considerably worse by a faster-rising ocean. Federal tide gauge data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration suggest that the sea level, as measured by tide gauge at Lake Pontchartrain in New Orleans, is eight inches higher than it was in 2006, just after Hurricane Katrina.

Congress Today Is Older Than It’s Ever Been (fivethirtyeight) Older members of Congress are notorious for their lack of familiarity with modern technology. Late last month, at least three different representatives in a hearing on TikTok called the popular app “Tic Tac,” a breath mint available in many store checkout lines. This is only the latest in a long line of amusing tech-related congressional miscues: Back in 2006, Alaska Sen. Ted Stevens described the internet as “a series of tubes,” and Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer copped to his struggles when in 2022 he held up his flip phone and said he was “not very tech-oriented” during a speech on the Senate floor. Don’t expect such unfamiliarity to change anytime soon: As it turns out, Congress today is older than it’s ever been. Across all senators and representatives, the median age of the 118th Congress is 59 years old. The median senator is 65 years old, a record high; the median representative is about 58, for the fourth Congress in a row.

25 years after Good Friday Agreement, cold peace prevails in Northern Ireland (Washington Post) “Peace walls,” they call them. Separation barriers topped with spikes. They were supposed to come down by now, 25 years after the Good Friday Agreement ended the horrors of three decades of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland. But still they stand. As a symbol, embarrassment and necessity. On Lanark Way, the barrier separates the mostly Catholic Falls Road from the mostly Protestant Shankill Road. A faded mural reads: “The more we sweat in peace, the less we bleed in war.” It is both a popular tourist site and a scene of what locals call “recreational rioting.” The rusted gates open every morning and close with a clang at 10:30 p.m. every night, effectively limiting free movement in a modern European capital. In the communities on each side, people say that Belfast is a far, far better place than it was during the Troubles—when Northern Ireland was the scene of petrol bombings, targeted killings and mass rioting that left 3,600 people dead, 47,000 wounded and many more living with the heavy load of their memories. But they are also skeptical of the celebratory mood as President Biden, former president Bill Clinton and other luminaries descend on Belfast this week to mark the “tremendous progress” brought by the U.S.-brokered Good Friday Agreement. There is peace now. But it is a cold peace.

Fancy a dip? An Olympic reboot for Paris’ toxic River Seine (AP) Even before he has dipped his toes into the murky waters of Paris ′ famous but forbidden River Seine, French triathlete Thibaut Rigaudeau is already fielding questions from disbelieving friends. “Are you scared of swimming in the Seine?” he says they ask him. “It looks disgusting.’” For decades, it was. Though immortalized in art, literature and song, and cherished by lovers who whisper sweet nothings or tearfully part on the privacy of its banks, the river was too toxic for most fish and for swimmers, largely useful only as a waterway for goods and people or as a watery grave for discarded bicycles and other trash. Swimming in the Seine has, with some exceptions, been off-limits since 1923. Now, however, a costly and complex cleanup is resuscitating the Seine just in time for it to play a starring role in the 2024 Paris Olympics.

Russia plans electronic call-up papers to help mobilisation (Reuters) Russia will soon draft men into the army by sending them electronic call-up papers via an online portal in addition to traditional letters, according to draft legislation due to be debated on Tuesday that aims to facilitate mobilisation. More than 300,000 former soldiers and ex-conscripts are believed to have been called up since President Vladimir Putin announced an emergency draft last year to support Russia’s “special military operation” in Ukraine. Currently, conscription papers in Russia have to be delivered in person by the local military enlistment office or via an employer, but the proposed changes to legislation would see conscription papers being sent via recorded mail and online. Once an electronic summons is received, citizens who fail to show up at the military enlistment office will be automatically banned from travelling abroad. The initial announcement to introduce mobilisation prompted thousands of draft age men to flee abroad last year.

Lethal Surprises Hidden in the Grass: Russia’s Trip Wires and Land Mines (NYT) With a practiced calm, a Ukrainian de-mining expert gingerly pushed aside stalks of dry grass, revealing a lethal surprise—a hand grenade rigged to a trip wire, waiting for someone to heedlessly step on it. The discovery, near the Ukrainian town of Lyman, was just one small development in a wider cat-and-mouse struggle between mining and de-mining teams that is becoming a pivotal element in Russia’s war in Ukraine. Mines, trip wires and booby traps are go-to defensive tools for Russia’s military, inflicting grievous wounds on infantry or stalling armored vehicles. Easy to rig, bury in dirt or cover with debris by the side of a village road, they are devilishly hard to find. Ukrainian land is covered in thousands of Russian mines, trip wires and booby traps. An area four times as large as Switzerland is unsafe because of land mines, the United Nations has estimated. They kill or maim hundreds of civilians each month. In March, land mines killed 226 civilians and wounded 724 others. Throughout Ukraine, about 350 de-mining teams work continually.

When exactly will India surpass China as most populous? (AP) India will surpass China’s population this month. Or maybe in July. Or, perhaps it’s happened already? Demographers are unsure exactly when India will take the title as the most populous nation in the world because they’re relying on estimates to make their best guess. But they know it’s going to happen soon, if it hasn’t occurred by now. China has had the most people in the world since at least 1950, the year United Nations population data began. Both China and India have more than 1.4 billion people, and combined they make up more than a third of the world’s 8 billion people. “Actually, there is no way we can know exactly when India will surpass China,” said Bruno Schoumaker, a demographer at Université catholique de Louvain in Belgium. “There is some uncertainty, not only about India’s population, but also China’s population.”

Myanmar’s Forgotten Crisis (Foreign Policy) Myanmar’s ruling military junta on Tuesday carried out a devastating airstrike on the village of Pazigyi, located in the country’s rebel-held northwest Sagaing region, killing at least 100 people, including around 30 children. Images from social media showed decimated buildings and roadways. The Tatmadaw, as Myanmar’s military is known, acknowledged responsibility for the strike but said it had targeted “terrorists,” not civilians. More than 13,000 children have been killed since the military took power, and over 17,500 people have been arbitrarily detained. At least 17.6 million people need humanitarian assistance, and tens of thousands more have fled to neighboring nations. Although the coup initially drew international media attention and condemnation from Western governments, attention has since waned, eclipsed by crises elsewhere, including in Ukraine. And Myanmar’s military leaders have taken advantage of this. Tom Andrews, the U.N. special rapporteur on the human rights situation in Myanmar, said, “The junta are like mushrooms; they thrive in the dark. I think because of the lack of attention, there is a lack of political will.” In this way, he fears the lack of an effective international community response will only worsen the crisis.

US, Philippines hold largest war drills near disputed waters (AP) American and Filipino forces on Tuesday launched their largest combat exercises in decades to be highlighted by a ship-sinking rocket barrage in waters across the disputed South China Sea and the Taiwan Strait, where Washington has repeatedly warned China over its increasingly aggressive actions. The annual drills by the longtime treaty allies called Balikatan—Tagalog for “shoulder-to-shoulder”—will run up to April 28 and involve more than 17,600 military personnel. It will be the latest display of American firepower in Asia, as the Biden administration strengthens an arc of alliances to better counter China, including in a possible confrontation over Taiwan, an island democracy that Beijing claims as its own. That dovetails with efforts by the Philippines under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. to defend its territorial interests in the South China Sea, which China claims virtually in its entirety, by boosting joint military exercises with the U.S. and allowing rotating batches of American forces to stay in additional Philippine military camps under a 2014 defense pact.

Egypt secretly planned to supply rockets to Russia, leaked U.S. document says (Washington Post) President Abdel Fatah El-Sisi of Egypt, one of America’s closest allies in the Middle East and a major recipient of U.S. aid, recently ordered subordinates to produce up to 40,000 rockets to be covertly shipped to Russia, according to a leaked U.S. intelligence document. A portion of a top secret document, dated Feb. 17, summarizes purported conversations between Sisi and senior Egyptian military officials and also references plans to supply Russia with artillery rounds and gunpowder. In the document, Sisi instructs the officials to keep the production and shipment of the rockets secret “to avoid problems with the West.” Dozens of highly classified U.S. military and intelligence documents have been leaked online, revealing a detailed picture of the war in Ukraine, as well as analysis and sensitive information on Russia and other countries—from classified sources. The leak has far-reaching implications for the United States and its allies.

Yemen’s peace prospects (Foreign Policy) The world’s worst humanitarian crisis may have glimpsed hope for the first time in almost a decade. Saudi and Houthi officials met in Sanaa, Yemen’s capital, this weekend to discuss peace talks for the nine-year war. Oman mediated the discussion. The talks centered on reopening Houthi-controlled ports and Sanaa’s airport, rebuilding infrastructure, and establishing a timeline for foreign forces to exit the region, among other issues. This break in tensions comes after China successfully negotiated a reopening of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran, the latter of which supports the Houthis.

Research with exotic viruses risks a deadly outbreak, scientists warn (Washington Post) When the U.S. government was looking for help to scour Southeast Asia’s rainforests for exotic viruses, scientists from Thailand’s Chulalongkorn University accepted the assignment and the funding that came with it, giving little thought to the risks. Beginning in 2011, Thai researchers made repeated treks every year to remote caves and forests inhabited by millions of bats, including species known to carry diseases deadly to humans. The scientists collected saliva, blood and excrement from the wriggling, razor-fanged animals, and the specimens were placed in foam coolers and driven to one of the university’s labs in Bangkok, a metropolis of more than 8 million people. The goal was to identify unknown viruses that might someday threaten humans. But doubts about the safety of the research began to simmer after the virus hunters were repeatedly bitten by bats and, in 2016, when another worker stuck herself with a needle while trying to extract blood from an animal. What if they encountered an unknown virus that killed humans? What if it infected their families and neighbors? In spring 2021, the Thai team’s leader pulled the plug, deciding that the millions of dollars of U.S. research money for virus hunting did not justify the risk. “To go on with this mission is very dangerous,” Thiravat Hemachudha, a university neurologist who supervised the expeditions, told The Washington Post. “Everyone should realize that this is hard to control, and the consequences are so big, globally.”

[fanficimagery]

Wildest Dreams.

Imagine it's a couple days before your wedding and your friends start coming in for your last days of freedom. Only you start having second thoughts, old feelings crop up, and you end up having a breakdown.

Words: 5.1K Warnings: This happens to be an AU with no children and Liz is alive. If a character isn't mentioned, I'm sorry. I had too many characters already.

The Mikaelsons, plus a couple of significant others, are sitting around a fire pit in the backyard of their mansion down in New Orleans after a surprisingly calm family dinner. The only one missing is Rebekah who'd gotten up to answer the door when one of Klaus' minions was dropping off some things inside. But mere seconds later she's returning, a smile gracing her lips as she reads from what appears to be an invitation in her hands.

"You have been cordially invited to witness the celebration of love between Landon Wesley and Y/N Y/L/N," she says as she retakes her seat next to Marcel. "Aw. Our little Y/N grew up so fast."

Elijah, who'd been staring into the fire, suddenly frowns. He sits up a little straighter in his seat. "Y/N is getting married?"

Skimming through the invitation, Rebekah doesn't see her brother's expression. But Klaus, Marcel, Freya, and Keelin do. "Mhm. In two weeks, but she wants me down there a couple days before for a girls thing. She said I could bring whoever I wanted, so Freya and Keelin are coming with."

"Oh. Okay," Keelin huffs. "So I guess we don't get a say in this?"

"Nope. Not at all."

Keelin rolls her eyes, but she's smiling all the while. Freya pats her wife on the back of the hand, chuckling, just as Elijah clears his throat and stands up. "Well if you excuse me, I think I'm going to call it a night."

As Elijah makes his exit, Rebekah finally lifts her head from the invitation. Klaus hides his smirk behind the glass tumbler he's sipping from as everyone else watches Elijah go with their interest piqued.

"Am I the only one who found that weird?" Keelin asks, gesturing towards where Elijah disappeared off to.

Marcel chuckles, shaking his head. "Not at all. Someone please tell me what the deal is there?"

Rebekah sighs. "Y/N holds a special place inside Elijah's heart."

"Dear Y/N is cousin to one Caroline Forbes of Mystic Falls, part of the scooby gang we once loathed." Klaus smirks. "But we never loathed Y/N."

"Not at all." Rebekah now starts to smile. "Y/N was kind, even when her family and friends plotted our deaths. She was the only one whose word we could trust and the only other person who purposely engaged 'lijah in conversation."

"We obviously thought our dear brother had a thing going on with Y/N, but he denied it every time," Klaus says. "It was because she was only seventeen at the time, but it's been years now."

"Y/N is definitely all grown up." Rebekah slowly smirks. "And definitely still asks after Elijah."

Klaus chuckles. "And it appears Elijah still harbors something for our favorite Mystic Falls resident."

"Well damn," Marcel mumbles. "We're so going to this wedding. We haven't had normal people drama in a while."

Keelin raises her glass in salute to Marcel's words. This was definitely going to be an interesting trip.

The Salvatore brothers have given up the Boarding House for the night so you could meet with your girls. Caroline took care of getting food and drinks, and Bonnie and Elena knew it was best to just stay out of Caroline's way. Because as Maid of Honor, Caroline took her duties a little too seriously.

"Can we eat yet?" Bonnie asks, already munching on a breadstick. "What are we even waiting for?"

"I'm expecting a few more friends," you say. "They're about five minutes out."

"And which friends are these?" Caroline wonders.

"Rebekah." Caroline immediately groans whereas Bonnie and Elena look uncomfortable. "Don't even give me that look," you tell your cousin. "I made Rebekah promise to be on her best behavior and she did so long as none of you made snide comments towards her. And the other two are Freya and Freya's wife Keelin."

"Freya and Keelin? How come we've never heard of them before?" Elena asks.

"Because Freya is a Mikaelson and her story was really sad," you say. "I didn't think I should tell you when I had first found out." All three girls look at you and you sigh, locking your phone and shoving it into your back pocket. "So long story short, Freya is the eldest Mikaelson. She was taken hostage by her aunt, forced to live for one year and then magically sleep for a hundred." Bonnie's eyes widen in shock. "She escaped and sought out her siblings who helped her kill their aunt so she'd finally be free. It took them a while to trust one another, but they eventually did and then Freya met Keelin. I've only spoken to them a handful of times, but they seem like great people. Just give them a chance."

The girls are quiet after learning that, but then Elena can't help but ask, "So is Freya human or..?"

"She's a witch and her wife is a werewolf." The girls all blink in surprise and you sigh. "Please. Just please give me this night and the day of my wedding. I don't need any drama."

Your pleading expression is enough to have the three of them agree and just in time as well. Elena and Caroline alert you and Bonnie that a car is pulling up, and it's not long until Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin and walking right on in.

The tension is obvious when Rebekah says hello to everyone, but the genuine smiles come out when you greet Freya and Keelin for the first time face to face, and then introduce them to Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena. Caroline, having put her best hostess persona, then leads everyone into the dining room.

Caroline and Bonnie are the only two to remain standing as everyone takes their seat, Caroline then dishing out either spaghetti or chicken alfredo while Bonnie serves up the wine. Conversation is a bit stilted, but the moment Bonnie asks Freya a question about magic it's like the flood gates open. You're surprised Freya gives up more of her story so freely and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders when Rebekah cracks a joke about how deranged her family is that has everyone laughing.

The food is devoured between the seven of you and by the end of dinner you've finished two bottles of wine. The third wine bottle follows you all into the lounge where more comfortable armchairs are carried in so everyone has a seat of their own after Freya and Keelin take over the loveseat.

"So," Caroline chirps as soon as she's comfortable, "are there any other Mikaelsons we should be expecting?"

Rebekah grins. "Is this your subtle way in trying to figure out if Nik is coming?"

Bonnie and Elena giggle as Caroline scoffs, but everyone sees right through her. Even Freya and Keelin who have no idea of the history between the two blonde vamps. But suddenly Freya stops giggling and leans forward in her seat, looking quite pensive. "Wait. Are you the Caroline that my brother couldn't help but compare every female to? You're that Caroline?"

"Yes. Yes she is," you say and take another sip of your wine.

"Huh. Now I get it." Freya chuckles. "You're cute and feisty, and can apparently keep up with Klaus. I approve." Keelin can't help but nod along as everyone laughs at Caroline's surprised expression.

The surprised expression quickly morphs into smugness, but then Caroline is quick to shake it off. "We're not here to talk about me. We're all here for Y/N. I was just wondering because you know how Damon and Stefan are with Klaus."

You sigh. "Which is why I've talked to them too," you say. "I know everyone has issues with each other, but it's my goddamn wedding and there will be no death threats or neck snapping or so help me I will stake somebody." Your friends and guests are stunned into silence before Keelin snorts, everyone then giving into their laughter quickly after. You too, eventually, and then you groan as you attempt to hide your face in the palms of your hands. "I just- I don't want any issues. I'm already freaking out as it is."

The laughter fades off, sympathetic expressions taking over, and it's Keelin who then leans forward in her seat, reaching for your hand and gripping it in comfort. "It's going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. If you love- er, uh what's his name?"

"Landon."

"Landon! Yes, Landon," she chuckles. "If you love Landon, you'll be fine." Your smile falters and you don't have to be an onlooker to know that the light in your eyes dims just a little. Your pretty sure everyone's noticed it if the sudden intake of breath is anything to go by. "You do- you do love him, don't you?"

"Yes!" You blurt a little too fast. Your response is a little cringeworthy and you sigh, retaking your hand and slumping in your seat. "I mean we've been together for three years. I love him. I do, but.."

"But he's not 'lijah."

"Rebekah!" Freya is quick to scold.

"What?" The blonde Original shrugs. "You haven't seen them together. You don't understand."

"I'm not one to ever agree with your sister, but she has a point," Elena says. "Y/N and Elijah-"

"But there is no me and Elijah." The girls fall silent at the tone in your voice. "There never was." You retake your glass of wine, chugging the rest of its contents before setting your glass back down. "Now if you guys will excuse me, I need some air."

No one tries to stop you as you go and you end up on the back patio, hopping up onto the brick railing and then leaning your back against the brick pillar. The cold air outside cools your flushed face and you try not to let your mood tumble down the rabbit hole.

You knew inviting the Mikaelsons was bound to bring up the past, but you didn't think it'd affect you quite like it is now. Elijah was, for obvious reasons, a touchy subject with you and your friends knew not to bring him up. But then Rebekah broke the ice and Elena, of all people, just had to agree with her.

"Here. Put this on." You're surprised to see Freya offering you a jacket, but you take it nonetheless and offer her a small smile in thanks. She grins, placing a smoking bowl down on the railing next to her. "Sage," she explains. "It keeps the vampires from hearing."

"God I love magic."

Freya chuckles and then after a moment passes, she says, "I'm sorry about what my sister said in there. They shouldn't bring any of that up so close to your wedding."

You shrug. "It is what it is. And if I'm being honest, she's not totally wrong."

"No?"

You shake your head. "I almost didn't invite Elijah because I knew my stupid crush on him would resurface, but then I thought I'd look like an asshole if I sent out personal invites to everyone else and he saw he didn't receive one." Freya chuckles quietly and you sigh longingly. "And the closer it comes to my wedding, the more I find myself longing for those talks with your brother rather than what Landon has to offer. I miss our talks about history and just life in general," you say. "And the more I listen to Landon talk about the latest Xbox game or the stupid jokes he's heard from his coworkers, it feels like I die a little more every day on the inside."

Freya frowns a little. "I apologize if I'm overstepping, Y/N, but do you honestly love Landon? If you continue to compare him to my brother, you're just setting yourself and Landon up for heartbreak down the line."

"I know. And I love Landon. I do, but I don't think I'm as in love with him as I once thought."

"Y/N.."

The first tear falls and you huff a laugh as you wipe it away. Quietly, you rhetorically ask, "Why couldn't your brother just love me? It'd have made things so much more easier." You're so caught up in your feelings that you don't see Freya tense or her eyes widen in surprise. "I don't even know what I'm saying," you then mumble. "I'm getting married in two days. Maybe I should just lay off the wine until then."

"Uhh, yeah. Maybe." Freya agrees.

You snap out of your spiral then, eyes widening. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry for laying that on you."

"No. Don't be," she laughs. "You needed to vent and I'm glad it was me, an unbiased ear."

"Really?"

"Really. You're fine," Freya assures you. "Now come on. Let's get you inside before we freeze."

As you hop off the railing, heart aching and mind going a mile a minute, you can only hope that your mind clears in time for you to say I do to Landon. It would really be terrible to enter a marriage while longing for someone else.

The morning of your wedding dawns bright and early, and you immediately know you're in no shape to be getting married. Since Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin have come into Mystic Falls you've put on a brave face for everyone, but now there's no hiding exactly what you're feeling. Because the moment aunt Liz, Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie wake you for your big day with party horns and confetti, you burst into tears.

Immediately the cheerful atmosphere vanishes and the girls are stunned into silence. "I can't do this," you cry. "I can't do this to myself or to Landon. It's not fair to him."

"Oh sweetie." Liz takes a seat next to you on the bed, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"I'm so sorry, aunt Liz, but I can't- I just can't get married today."

Elena shifts uncomfortably next to the bed. "Y/N, if this is about us bringing up Elijah the other night I'm so sorry."

"No. No, you don't have to be sorry." Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes and look at those in the room. "I will admit to being nervous about seeing Elijah again after only talking about him brought back this stupid crush on him, but the more I thought about it," you trail off, shaking your head. "Can I really marry a human?"

Bonnie frowns. "Y/N, you are a human."

"I know that, Bon, but after everything we've been through.. knowing all that I know, can I actually settle down behind a white picket fence and pray every night that Landon doesn't ever find out about the supernatural? Whether you guys want to admit it or not, Liz and I will always be in danger because of our ties to you guys." Seeing their frowns makes your heart break just a little bit more.

"I don't mean to offend you," you say. "I love you guys alot. But I've put Landon in danger for years now and I can't risk it anymore. Because what happens when he asks for kids? I won't bring a family into our already messy lives."

"Y/N," Caroline murmurs. "The wedding is in nine hours. What are we supposed to do?"

"Compel them to forget or to be okay with the wedding being called off. I don't care. Just please do something."

"What are you going to tell Landon?" Bonnie wonders.

"I'm not sure. If I have to, I'll call in a favor from Klaus. He likes me enough to compel the groom away."

"And the caterers?"

The bedroom door suddenly swings open and Rebekah sighs as she leans against the door jamb. "Don't worry. Us Mikaelsons have a bit of money to throw around. All caterers will be told the wedding is off and to not to mention the money they've already been paid, and Landon's family will find that they're not missing a penny from their bank accounts."

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "Thank you, Bex. Thank you so much."

"Don't even worry about it," she assures you with a smile. Then pushing off the door jamb, she pastes on a smile and claps her hands once. "Okay. All vampires and witches with me. We've got a wedding to cancel."

Caroline and Bonnie are quick to rush out of the room, but Elena lingers by the bed. When you meet her gaze, she says, "If you need some time, my family's lake house is empty. You're more than welcome to take a week or two for yourself there. We'll give you some space."

"Thank you, 'Lena. Some space and time actually sounds pretty good."

"Well then it's settled," Liz says. "You go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll pack you a bag. We'll grab some groceries while everyone cancels your wedding, and then I'll drive you down to the lake house. Does that sound like a good plan?"

You offer her a faint grin. "Yeah. It does."

The moment Elena leaves the room, it seems like everything is in a fast forward motion. Liz ushers you to the bathroom where you have a good cry in the shower and then as you're getting dressed you have numerous text messages from your friends coming in to tell you how all the compulsion is going. Damon even offers to compel Landon for you, admitting that he never quite liked the human blood bag and he was glad you had come to your senses before you took the guy's last name. That had earned your first chuckle of the morning and even Liz chuckled when you had read her Damon's text.

Liz helps you put the groceries away at the lake house and then makes you promise to call her should you need anything, no matter the time. And only after you've agreed does she finally leave you all alone.

You send off one last text to your group of friends that your phone is going to be off for the time being and then promptly fall asleep in the master bedroom.

When you wake up again, it's only a little past one in the afternoon and you decide to make yourself something to eat. You eat and then settle on the couch for a little tv, only to end up outside on the dock and staring out into the water.

The time your wedding was to take place comes and goes, and you can't help but turn your phone on to see if you have any notifications. The only messages you have are from Caroline who assures you that everything's been taken care of and that she thinks you made the right decision. Hearing confirmation from your cousin eases some of your worries and you don't feel as bad about what you did.

By the time night falls, you're snuggled up on the couch and watching the best horror has to offer in order to keep your mind off any romance for the time being. You're in the middle of watching The Conjuring when there's a knock on the front door, startling a yelp out of you. Cursing your overbearing friends and their need to make sure you're really okay, you pause the movie and get up to see who it is.

Only when you open the front door you're more than a little stunned to find Elijah standing there by the top of the porch steps as he turns to face you. There's a moment where you both drink each other in and then your eyes narrow into a glare whereas Elijah's lips stretch into a smile as he steps closer to you.

"Elijah."

"Hello, Y/N."

The butterflies take flight and your heart beats double. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Someone near and dear to me had to make possibly one of the most difficult decisions in their life this morning. Did you really think I wouldn't come to check up on you?"

You do your best not to swoon, smiling softly at him as you shake your head in amusement and open the door wider as an invite. "You're lucky you've already been invited in otherwise we'd be stuck out on the porch. Come on. Let's go take a seat."

Elijah follows you into the living room after shutting the door behind him and you turn off the movie so you can place all your focus on him. There's a fire going in the fireplace, but you still turn on a few lamps so you can see him properly. And when you turn back around it's to see that Elijah already made himself comfortable smack dab in the middle of the couch.

Grinning, you drop in the spot next to him with one leg curled beneath you and the other hanging off the front of the couch so your foot is planted on the floor. "Hi," you muse.

"Is it too soon to ask you what happened?"

Straight to the point as usual, his question makes you faintly cringe. But before he can take the question back, you decide to tell him. "I'm too involved with the supernatural world, Elijah. What kind of person would I be if I had dragged Landon into the mess that is our lives? He deserves to have a normal and happy life."

"And what about you? Don't you deserve to be normal and happy?"

As he speaks, you notice how his gaze drops to your mouth before quickly darting up and looking elsewhere. You try to play it off but you know your damn heart gives you away immediately when he fights off a smile. "Normal and happy is so overrated," you then manage to say. "After all that I've seen and been through, a normal life would be boring."

Elijah finally allows himself to smile. "Is that the only reason why you wouldn't marry him?"

You tense at his knowing gaze, heart beat tripling as it's your turn to avert your gaze. You'd never been good at confronting your feelings head on, especially with the person said feelings are for. So as the seconds tick on by, you can feel your face flushing. You quietly groan. "Do I really have to say it out loud? It's embarrassing."

"Y/N."

"Elijah," you retort. You manage to hold his gaze for three seconds before you break eye contact and sigh. "It was obvious I had a crush on you back when I was seventeen and apparently it's still obvious now."

"I think it's adorable."

"Of course you do." Against your better judgement you reach out to swat at his arm and your breath hitches as he catches your hand and then maneuvers it so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. You smile sadly. "It's been you since I was seventeen and I don't think anyone can ever compare to the Elijah Mi-mmph."

Elijah stuns you by pulling you into his lap and quickly maneuvering you so your knees are on either side of his lap, his mouth slotting against yours with such ease. There's a moment where you don't know what exactly to do with your hands, but the second his hands tug on the hem of your shirt, your hands find purchase on his shoulders before sliding up the side of his neck.

It's you who breaks the kiss for some much needed air, but you don't go far because Elijah keeps you close. His hand cups the side of your jaw, but his thumb runs gently under your bottom lip. You nip at his thumb, he grins, and then you groan when your predicament finally settles in. Elijah chuckles as you drop your head to his shoulder, your hands clutching at his sides under his suit jacket.

"What are we even doing?"

"I believe you're finally going after what you truly wanted."

"And you? What about you?" You ask, shifting nervously in his lap as you sit back.

"I am making my move," he says as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "before someone else comes in to ask for your hand in marriage." You roll your eyes and he chuckles softly. "Since I made you admit something earlier, I will admit that I too have compared everyone to you. My family knew I held you above all else and they were quick to rub it in my face that you were to wed this evening. And earlier when I got Rebekah's call, I knew this was our chance."

"You're a big 'ol softy, Elijah Mikaelson."

"Only when it comes to you, Y/N Y/L/N."

You can't help but smile at his words, leaning in for a quick kiss. But it's not so quick as Elijah pulls you back in, peppering a few kisses across your mouth and cheeks. You giggle, but then that giggle turns into a groan. "The girls are going to be unbearable."

"Niklaus too, but I'm willing to put up with it as long as I have you by my side." You make a noise and facial expression as if you have to think about it, and Elijah gently squeezes your waist in retaliation which makes your jerk in his hold. "If you're that worried about their reactions, we can go away for a bit until everyone has had enough time to get used to our new situation."

You huff a laugh, but upon seeing Elijah's expression your amusement fades away. "You're serious."

"I am. New Orleans is a bit crowded at the moment and if I remember correctly you've always wanted to see Ireland. So what do you say to a spontaneous vacation with me?"

You blink owlishly at Elijah before your lips stretch into a smile. "Yes!" Your excitement makes him chuckle, but then you're quick to to come down. "My friends won't go for it. They'll continuously ask if I know what I'm doing and want daily updates and everything."

"They won't. And if they do, they'll have Sheriff Forbes to answer to." Your brow furrows in confusion and Elijah smirks. "How do you think I found you all the way out here? I stopped by the Forbes residence and Elizabeth was kind enough to point me in the right direction. It seems we already have one person in our corner."

"Jesus Christ," you huff. "Are we really doing this?"

"Only if you're sure you want to."

You take a moment to think things through, but before that moment can stretch on too long, you say, "Yeah. Let's do this. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you want," he tells you.

"As much as I wanna leave right now, I kind of just want to take you up to bed and get reacquainted with you."

Elijah slowly smiles. "I quite like the way you think, Miss Y/L/N."

"Then what are you waiting for, old man? Take me to bed already."

SIX MONTHS LATER

Freya and Keelin have just gotten home, a stack of mail on the hall table catching Freya's attention. Her siblings are out as usual, wrecking havoc no doubt, so on her way to the kitchen she grabs up the stack to sort through it.

As Keelin goes about grabbing the wine from the fridge and two glasses, Freya starts to filter out the trash from the stack of mail. Only halfway through the stack, one particular envelope catches her eye.

Freya starts to smile. "It seems like Elijah finally broke his silence."

"Oohh," Keelin coos. "What does he have to say? How is Y/N doing? Because last I heard not even the girls in Mystic Falls know."

Freya opens up the envelope, pulling out a picture and a letter. She smiles brightly upon seeing her brother and Y/N smiling under the Northern Lights- which is utterly adorable, in her opinion- and then goes on to read the letter to herself. Her smile slowly falters as her eyes widen in surprise. "No. They didn't," she breathes in awe. She quickly scans the picture again, her eyes lighting up as she laughs joyously. "They did!"

Keelin startles. "What? What did they do?"

Freya drops the letter and quickly flips around the picture for her wife to see. "They got married!"

"WHAT!?" Keelin practically shouts. "Let me see," she says as she hurries around the kitchen island.

Freya openly laughs now. "They got married under the Northern Lights last month. They'll finally be coming home in a couple of weeks."

Keelin grabs the photo so she can study it itself, her smile blossoming. "Oh my god. They really did get married."

"In the letter, Elijah said only Caroline and her mother know. They're going to come here first so they can figure out living arrangements and then they'll go see everyone else."

"Rebekah is going to be so pissed," Keelin muses.

"I can see it now, she's going to force a small ceremony on them when they're settled in."

"As long as I get to see Elijah smile in person as he is in his wedding photo, I'm all for it. Jesus looks at how adorable they look together."

"I know," Freya says. "I don't think my brother could have found anyone better for himself. We had only met Y/N and I immediately knew they'd be perfect for each other."

"Right?" Keelin then huffs. She looks at the picture one last time before setting the picture down. "We need to blow that up and hang it on the wall. Getting married under the Northern Lights was such a neat idea."

"Mhm. So much better than that Christmas themed wedding she originally had planned."

Keelin chuckles. "I thought I was the only one who thought the Christmas theme was tacky."

"Oh no. Rebekah secretly hated it too, but she didn't want to upset Y/N. She will, however, be upset she missed the Northern Lights wedding."

"I mean I'm pretty bummed, but I'm also excited for them to get home so we can pick their brains and get to the bottom of whatever the hell they were thinking. I'm super stoked for them, but I also want to know who proposed to who and everything!"

"Same here." Freya turns towards her wife, wrapping her arms around her waist while Keelin settles her arms around Freya's neck. "But until then we got family to inform of the couple's new status. Not it!"

"Not i- dammit!" Keelin pouts, she now having to be the one to inform Klaus and Rebekah. "I hate it when you do that."

Freya laughs. "Better luck next time. Now let's go. I can't wait to see their reactions."

[melisa-may-taylor72]

For the first time an Argentine publication was specially invited to the United States to attend the concert, party and subsequent press conference of the group QUEEN. This compliment that corresponded to PELO, made it possible to see and hear the performances of the English band in New Orleans and Miami. We also got interviews with the group and its current producer. As a preview of all that material, we reproduce the review of the New Orleans concert witnessed by our special envoy.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans with all its huge genesis of jazz and blues. With a history of mystique and art born on the banks of the Mississippi River. A city where the constructions and the european style (Franco-Spanish) coexist in eloquent contrast with the steel, cement and glass that constitute the visible face of this country. And this is where we come to listen to one of the most powerful English rock bands: Queen. It’s no coincidence. Their new album is called “Jazz” and New Orleans breathes it everywhere. This charming city that seems unreal, welcomed a group of journalists from various nations, invited especially by EMI to attend the concert, the party and subsequent press conference that Queen was going to give. New Orleans was the third date of the 32 concerts that the band was going to perform in 29 cities throughout the country. With overwhelming success in Europe, this tour marked Queen’s final coup in the United States. And they did, because the band is playing like never before, with much more rock and roll than when they started. This is what happened on stage.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

An hour before

The concert in New Orleans would take place in the Auditorium, an immense theatre belonging to the city with a capacity for 20,000 spectators. This was Queen’s third performance in the United States, having played two days earlier in the legendary Memphis (Tennessee). The show would start at eight o'clock in the evening, and an hour earlier we decided to go to the concert site to recognize the field. The Auditorium is located practically in the centre of the city, so the access to the place, and later exit, were done quickly and efficiently. The concert is barely an hour away and the people is waiting in front of the gate numbered one hundred. We approached to chat a little with the boys who wander around drinking soft drinks or the very light American beer. Almost everyone sees Queen for the first time and, not coincidentally, their number one band is Led Zeppelin. Everyone shows they know a lot about the band and gets excited when a colleague from Argentine television and his cameraman starts filming them with the camera. 
When we retire, we observe the four enormous trucks that carried the stage that Queen uses in their shows. We return to the hotel where a special bus will take us to the stadium.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

The stage 

The Auditorium of New Orleans is a large rectangular cement stadium. It has a plateaus tray that surrounds it completely. In the lower part no seats were placed, while upstairs it is easy to settle in the bleachers, where there are a lot of exits and corridors to the outside. People enter comfortably and quickly and there are few policemen, who act as ushers, indicating where to place themselves and how to avoid crowds. New Orleans has among its traditions the Mardi Gras (our carnival) so it is customary to attend disguised events. Thus four witches, a mummy, three wild animals, a princess, two Martians, and some more difficult to identify parade before our gazed eyes. Everything serves to color the party. The stage is about thirty meters in front and ten meters in deep. At the sides there are two platforms one meter high, just below the columns of reamplification. These hang from the ceiling of the stage in two groups of six. The stage is open, in the dark. You can only see a kind of grill of lights, hanging directly in front of the audience. In a few minutes the stadium fills up. The turnout is estimated at 18,000 people. All tickets were sold in advance, at the sole price of $8.50. There are no numbered locations and the ones that arrive are the ones that get the best location. There are no fights and everything runs smoothly. In the area without seats are located two huge consoles: to the right the computerized system of programmed lights. These are the stage lights, up and to the sides, and the ones that fall from behind in front of the stage. To the left is the console, with sound -one of them- and just like the previous one it doesn’t have no guards or barricades around it.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Opening

It’s half past eight and with the stadium full, all the lights go out. The screaming is infernal and is only subdued by Queen’s music. The stage is illuminated when the huge console of 500 red, green and white lamps is lit alternately. As a dense column of smoke emerges from the floor, the console begins to rise backwards, finally forming the roof of the stage. The effect is achieved and makes the crowd shout even more. Music is the basis of rock and roll. Now we see the musicians. May on the left, Deacon on the right, Mercury on the right, and Taylor with his drums back to the center. On the right you can see the great grand piano that Mercury used several times. The battery is mounted on a three-storey platform with white light spots directed at the public. Above Taylor’s head hangs a huge gong also surrounded by lights, and to his right, a pair of timpanis. Mercury sings “We Will Rock You” in a revamped rock and roll version. The bass supports the tones with astonishing security and the rhythm invites movement. 
Mercury sings like on records, the whole group sounds perfect in a clear, undistorted stereo. It moves with the grace of a contortionist or a classical dancer, always clinging to the microphone reed, a kind of cane that will be used in a thousand ways throughout the show.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Berry and Hendrix

“Good night, New Orleans,” shouts Mercury and the audience responds enthusiastically. We still can’t react to such a flood of light and sound, when Mercury sits at the piano to attack.
“Somebody To Love”, a beautiful gospel song that allows us to enjoy Queen’s best instrument: their voices. The band threshes the song safe, comfortable, and on the end Mercury plays a solo that stands the audience up. Almost without breathing we passed to one of the top albums in Queen’s career: “A Night At The Opera”. The opening, “Death On Two Legs,” is Brian May’s blunt and overwhelming guitar display. There are probably a dozen guitarists more skilled than him in rock, but very few have the ability, style and imagination that he possesses. His guitar is main part of Queen’s original sound, at times with a rancid and distorted hue and sometimes clear and classic. Almost without stopping they continue with “ Killer Queen”, one of the first successful songs in Buenos Aires. A combination of hard rock with Beatle style vocalizations. The main instrument in this song are the voices of Mercury, Taylor and May. This time the next song “I’m In Love With My Car” is hooked and starts with a heavy riff. Mercury’s voice transforms into Chuck Berry. May makes a very polished solo with a very Hendrix sound (he loves him) and Mercury stands next to him gesturing with the microphone as if he were an imaginary guitarist. At the end he sits at the piano and abruptly the song becomes “Get Down, Make Love”, a true monument to heavy rock. A dense, choppy riff, supported by the piano and the forcefulness of rhythm. Then the stage lights go out and the lights begin to turn on the audience. The lights run through the stage rack in a precise effect. May plays all sorts of effects with his guitar, accompanying Mercury’s vocal acrobatics. The drums explode and the riff repeats itself tirelessly. The next track is “You’re My Best Friend” a moment of tranquility for everyone with this song in the best style of the ‘60s.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

The new trick

We all need a break, but it’s very brief because Mercury announces that the next one is a John Deacon song, using a play on words. He sits at the piano and starts “ Spread Your Wings”, a typical American ballad, with a Mercury deeply inspired by Mc Cartney - isn’t that wonderful? The end is prolonged with the band to all orchestra and the surprise arrives. From the top of the stage, another stage begins to descend with a complete set of drums. The synchronization is perfect, and when the song ends the stage is already installed. The new stage fits perfectly with the platforms located on the sides, leaving the musicians one meter above the audience. May takes the guitar, Taylor sits on this new drum set that has the cover of “ News Of The World” on the drum. That’s how the acoustic set begins. It starts with a very raw, super rancid boogie. With this song we forget certain insecurities in Mercury’s voice, perhaps because of tiredness.
Mercury clarifies that the next track was specially composed for New Orleans and will not be played on tour “Dreamers’s Ball”.The fake trumpet solo is a beautiful parody by Brian May. The audience is delirious and clapping. Everyone participates and the festive atmosphere is increasing. In front of the new stage a curtain of lights is formed that astonishes and gives rise to the jokes of the musicians. The acoustic end is in charge of May and Mercury. Alone, sitting in the middle of the new stage, they sing the beautiful ballad “ Love Of My Life ”. The audience is restless and doesn’t pay much attention to this number. In our country it would have had a sepulchral silence, but they see bands like this every week. 

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Acrobatics and rock

“39” ends this singular set. A correctly played skiffle, where the vocal arrangements replace the bronzes. Everything is dark for a few seconds and when the spots are turned on, May is placed on the left platform and Mercury on the opposite one. They start with the riff of “It’s Late” and the stage rises again. At the right time it allows Deacon and Taylor to be seen on the original stage. May and Mercury descend and the song becomes more intense. Not surprisingly, our astonishment was overcome. Mercury and May constantly cross from one end of the stage to the other. This is democracy, no kid is left without seeing his idol up close. “Fat Bottom Girls’ is the single from Queen’s new album. A song with country airs and a title that… we leave it to the music writer. The beginning of the song is a vocal acrobatics of the four. A resounding display of their ability to sing, with those undulations of the chorus that we thought impossible to hear live. The song comes to life with May’s riff, perfectly marked by Taylor with a crushing tempo. They continue with “Sheer Heart Attack”, an accelerated rock and roll from the LP “ News Of The World”. May’s guitar becomes incisive, crackles and howls. There is one of the most fantastic rock guitarists. Halfway through the song, Mercury leaves the scene for an inspired May. Then a long improvisation begins. First a funky rock that slowly morphs into a total experiment. May uses the Echoplex and we discover that he admires Hendrix without itching. His guitar is multiplied, first by three and then by ten. The notes are scattered throughout the auditorium, filling it with mysticism. Listening to May pull out unimaginable sounds from his guitar, one understands the ‘why of the dispensing of synthesizers in Queen’s music. The guitar replaces the strings, the winds, and the keyboards, of course. Everything is done on the basis of a simple but effective polyphony. May obtains a diabolical combination of sounds between the attack of the strings, in high, with the finger prepared for the intervention of the harmonic, and the dose of saturation and maintenance (sustain). This orchestral concept of the guitar has references in two other great English guitarists: Steve Hackett and Robert Fripp.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Grand Finale

The end of the song is the beginning of another brilliant rock: 
“Keep Yourself Alive,” the opening song of the album “Queen I’. The end is by Taylor, who does some passages on the tom-toms and the timpani, with sound effects of glissando. Mercury leaves the center of the stage. Next to the piano an assistant is waiting for him who has helped him all night by holding him and reaching for the microphone. Freddie sits down and the first bars announce "Bohemian Rhapsody”. The screaming is hellish. Mercury’s piano playing is perfect. 
May does a solo identical to the studio version, and I wonder how they’ll do the opera part… There’s the answer. The stage explodes with smoke and colour and the musicians disappear. The stars are now the lights. The immense, luminous ceiling that covers the stage makes all series of combinations and routes, always synchronized with the music. What my mind associates most quickly to describe what happens, are the images of the film “Close Encounters”. 
But before leaving this hallucination, they magically appear for the rocker ending of “Rhapsody…”. The end explodes of light on the drummer’s stage, with a blinding effect, and Taylor hitting the giant gong, which he uses only in that song. The group disappears and the whole stadium stands up and asks for more. The classic lighters begin to light up in a sign of approval. Some red light bars also appear; similar to those in “Star Wars”, one can’t help but smile at such sophistication. Several minutes pass in which the public kicks the cement until it shakes.
Then they return to the stage to play “Tie Your Mother Down”. We are all standing up and living the ceremony of rock. 
The four of them have changed their clothes. May looks like a fairy with her long hair, her very long body that moves in the wide sleeves of his kimono. 
Mercury is standing on the stage, dancing and gesticulating, until May joins him for his solo. Again the drum lights explode and the band disappears again. Nobody wants to leave, we think they won’t come back. Exactly two hours ago the concert started. 
Yet they return and again a different outfit. They changed for the last two encores, a masterstroke… Taylor’s drums start with a super-heavy beat. It’s “We will rock you ” in its original version. Mercury only sings the first few stanzas, leaving the chorus for the crowd. 
Everyone responds, and this chorus of thousands of throats singing in time moves us to a shiver.
May and Deacon have already embarked on the final phrasing, located on the left side of the stage. Suddenly, on the opposite side, a spotlight 
finds Mercury and starts “We Are The Champions”. Once again, 
you see the crowd supporting the melodious chorus. A great ending. 
The four musicians step forward and bow. With the stage empty, covered with smoke, the lights are lowered again, while the recording of the closing track “A Night at the Opera (God Save The Queen)” is played. 
No one leaves, everyone howls frantically. But Queen won’t be back. Some take comfort in running to buy their T-shirts and badges of the group, which are only sold at concerts.

Article by “Pelo” Magazine, November 1978

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @foxmonkey, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog,
@redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian

[hotchscotchh]

Reimagined; Chapter 2 - Owen Savage

This is so sappy and I’m not sorry. Also, I couldn’t find any gifs from this episode so I made some. I might post the set tomorrow :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of past drug use, mentions of bullying

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer works through his issues with the Owen Savage case.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 —— Chapter 3

Based on 3x16 Elephant’s Memory

Hotch wasn’t sure what was going on with Reid during this case, but he was angry, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He felt bad for the way he had to reprimand Reid, no matter how necessary it was, because the younger man was obviously hurting. He wouldn’t have acted in such a way otherwise. But, Hotch wasn’t about to let him continue to make decisions that were going to put his life at risk.

He knew what Reid had been going through the past year. How could he not? He wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. Hotch had a lot of guilt over not stepping up to help him. Gideon told Hotch that he was handling it, and Hotch fell into the trap of believing it. He didn’t know that Gideon hadn’t said a word to the young genius. Hadn’t helped him in the slightest. He wouldn’t forgive Gideon or himself for that.

“Reid,” Hotch called after they had both stepped off the jet. “Are you going to catch that movie?” Reid put his hands in his pocket, looked down at his feet and nodded. “I think I’ll come with you.”

Reid looked up at that, surprised. “Hotch, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. This is personal, it’s not something you should technically know about. If it comes out that you were aware of the situation, you’ll get in trouble. I’m not going to let you carry that burden.”

Hotch sighed. “Let me at least give you a ride. I don’t need to come with you, I just want to know that you’ve made it there safely. The metro isn’t running anymore anyway. I’m allowed to give my subordinate a ride home, right?”

“I suppose,” Reid answered, a hint of a smile playing across his features.

The ride to Reid’s “movie” was spent in silence. Neither man was ready to broach the day’s incident on a personal level. Reprimanding Reid as his superior was much easier than talking through feelings and past trauma.

Reid silently got out of the car when they arrived, but when the door was about to close, he opened it again and, with a shaky voice, asked, “should I expect you to be here when I come out?”

“Of course, Reid. I am giving my subordinate a ride home, after all,” Hotch replied with a sad smile. He didn’t like that the man thought so little of him that he would leave him here to find his own way home.

When he was gone, though, Aaron couldn’t help but let his mind wander. First to the past few weeks. This wasn’t the first time he’d given Spencer a late-night ride home after the Metro had closed. It almost always landed them going out to dinner, though. It was something that he was coming to anticipate. It was becoming his favorite part of the week. He’d known there was a lot to Reid, but he’d only known him on a professional level. Getting to know him personally was something he could only describe as… titillating. He was also kind of choosing to ignore the extremely inappropriate attraction he was realizing had grown in him.

His thoughts were also wandering to what Spencer could have possibly gone through to make him so closely identify with Owen Savage. He knew about the bullying in high school, that comments about being a “12-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school” had not gone unnoticed. So, he knew, in theory, that Reid was traumatized by the experience, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he really wanted the details.

Aaron knew, from experience, how cruel children could be. He was sure his experience wasn’t nearly as extreme as Spencer’s, but he had been bullied. He’d been bullied because his parents never showed up to school events. Because he played baseball instead of football. Because he was never going to live up to the standards of his father. Not in the community’s eyes, at least. Little did they know what was going on behind those closed doors. But that’s a story for another time.

----

An hour after he left, spencer returned to Aaron’s car feeling fifty pounds lighter. Aaron hadn’t started the car after Spencer had gotten in and put his seat belt on, so he looked over to find the older man staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“Feel better?” Aaron asked. Spencer nodded in reply. Aaron waited a moment, giving Spencer the chance to say something (even though he knew he wouldn’t) before speaking up again. “Dinner? There’s an all-night diner a few blocks from here.”

“Okay. I don’t-” Spencer abruptly stopped his train of thought, looking down to where his hands were tracing nervous patterns on his knees. He took a moment to decide if this was really something he wanted to disclose to his boss before remembering that this wasn’t his boss. Not right now. This isn’t Hotch. This is Aaron. The man who takes him out for dinner once a week just to listen to him talk. The man who knows about his addiction. Who wouldn’t judge him, no matter what he said. “I don’t think I should be alone just yet,” he finally finished, voice low as if he thought he might be chastised for his words.

Aaron understood that the admission wasn’t something that Spencer wanted to discuss and started the car without another word.

----

They were seated in the diner, full mugs of coffee sitting in front of them, looking over their menus when Aaron decided to start the conversation they both knew was coming. “Spencer, you know you can call me anytime you don’t feel like you should be alone, right? If you need a ride to a meeting, or even just someone to sit with you, I am more than happy to be that person for you.”

Spencer let out a sigh, the self-incriminating thoughts that had been plaguing his mind before coming back into play. “No, Hotch, I can’t come to you. You’re my boss. And if Strauss finds out that you knew about my addiction and didn’t report it, she’ll finally have grounds to fire you. I can’t let you carry that burden; don’t you understand that?”

Hotch hated that word. Burden. This was the second time Reid had used it in the same argument. “Stop. You’re not a burden, Reid. To anyone. You never have been, and you never will be. And screw what Strauss has to say. I’m not your boss in a time like this. I’m not Hotch. I’m your friend. I’m Aaron.”

Spencer let out a laugh. That was almost the exact thought that had been running through his mind in the car earlier.

“I want to be your friend, Spencer. I want to be there for you, I want to help you through this.”

Spencer looked down at his hands that were, again, tracing nervous patterns on the tops of his knees. He made an attempt to inconspicuously wipe the tears from his eyes, but it didn’t go unnoticed. He hadn’t expected that to come out of Aaron’s mouth. Spencer never had friends, except Ethan, but he was still in New Orleans. He’s never had someone he could lean on; someone he could be vulnerable with.

Aaron placed his hand palm up on the table in an invitation for Spencer to receive some kind of grounding, some kind of comfort. He took the opportunity, lacing their fingers together and looking up to meet Aaron’s eyes. “Spencer, I know you’ve never had a consistent support system, but you do now. You have a family. You can come to any one of us, we won’t judge you. Will you tell me what bothered you so much about this case? I’d like to know, as your boss and your friend, so we can prevent another big blowout like that in the future.”

So, he told him. About the goal post. About how his mother would leave visible bruises sometimes and no one would say anything. About how alone he was. About the guilt he held for institutionalizing his mother. The biggest issue, though, was how he thought most people just used him for his brain. Once the flood gates opened, there was no going back.

“Oh, Spence,” Aaron consoled when the words finally stopped flowing from Spencer’s mouth. They were both openly crying at this point, the waitress had decided to stay out of their way. The conversation was visibly intense. Aaron stood from his seat in the booth and slid in next to Spencer, pulling the hurting man into his chest and just letting him cry.

“Spencer, there are so many amazing things about you. I don’t think I could even name half of them, but your brain isn’t at the top of the list. You’re amazing because you’re you,” he said with a breathy laugh. “You do magic tricks in the bull pen just to make the girls smile. You have all this amazing knowledge that you could’ve put to use in so many ways, but you chose the FBI. You chose to help people. To stop killers. To save lives. That’s why you’re amazing. Sure, your brain is too, but you’re so much more than that.”

Spencer wanted to be embarrassed. He was causing a scene. But the comfort he was receiving from this was ridiculous. After a few minutes he managed to sit up and place a hand on Aaron’s chest. “Thank you,” he said, softly and sincerely. “Sorry about your shirt. And for causing a scene.”

“Don’t worry about it, Spence,” Aaron answered, a small smile returning to his face. “You obviously needed that.” Aaron returned to his side of the booth and held a hand up to flag down a waitress. They ordered milkshakes and enjoyed them between idle chatter that flowed freely between them.

Aaron stood up saying, “it’s my turn to pay,” and holding a hand out to help Spencer out of the booth. Spencer let a brilliant smile take over his face and it made Aaron stop for a moment. This was what started his attraction. That damn smile. It was all consuming.

----

Spencer fell asleep in the car on the way to his apartment. It hadn’t taken long; they were both exhausted. When they arrived at Spencer’s apartment, Aaron softly shook him awake. The words that came out of Spencer’s mouth next surprised Aaron.

“Will you stay the night? I- I just don’t think I should be alone yet.”

“Of course, Spencer.”

Spencer’s couch was comfortable. That night, Aaron dreamed up Spencer. Mostly about that big giddy smile that lit up his face that made him so beautiful. He woke up smiling, but confused. When did “Reid” become “Spencer?” And when did the adjectives he associated with him change from “smart” and “amazing” to include “beautiful” and “perfect?”

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Someone Must Get Hurt (Cordelia x Reader (Part 1))

This is set during around and through coven so she’s still Cordelia Foxx technically. 

Summary: Reader joins Miss Robichaux's swearing she would keep her main power to her grave. She doesn’t expect to fall for the Headmistress. 

Note: This story was inspired by my vague memory of the soul eater in the x files episode the gift. Subconsciously also inspired by a great fanfic which I will insert the link as soon as I find it.

I’m not American so any odd spelling, phrases or inaccuracies. I apologies for in advance. Also, I’ll come up with a name for this later. This is my first Cordelia x reader and mostly set up. 

Part 1,  Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You'd been sent to the academy because you had accidentally set your curtains on fire in a fit of rage. A bland reason but you couldn't deny that's how you learned about the school. After being kicked out by your roommate after you 'committed arson' and forced to move back in with your parents, they spilt the beans. You were from a long line of witches going back to Salem. You thought they were taking the piss out of you all the way up until you stood outside of the black cast-iron gates of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. The name of the school being coded for the students' protection. They couldn't flat out say there was a school of witches leaving in New Orleans. 

 What your parents told you explained a lot about your past. You had the ability to 'heal' other's injuries- mainly using it on your friends and siblings. For your safety, you made them swear to never to tell anyone; not teachers, other children or even your parents. They abused your power. Every cut, scratch and broken limb. It tore away at your heart. If you refused, they threatened to tell. They never did, they knew they had you wrapped around their finger.

 Your power didn’t come without its downsides. The universe isn’t that forgiving. Someone had to hurt. Always cloaked in long sleeve and skinny jeans to hide the mistakes from being too kind. Heatstroke became your best friend in the summertime.

 Healing wasn’t the best word to describe your power. It was more a transference of pain. You could take it away from someone else if you choose too.

 So, when you first walked through the halls of the school, you swore to never tell a soul about your true gift. You hid it from the other girls and your headmaster. Nan knew, as soon as it was mentioned she was clairvoyant you gave it away. Curse the human brain for thinking about what it shouldn’t. 

 She was kind enough not to mention it to the others. You were nicer to her because of it. The other’s you were wary of. Queenie’s power scared you, she could easily bring harm to others- mainly Madison had the urge to push people's buttons. Queenie ended up being nice to you. When Zoe joined the two of you got along well. 

 The headmistress was a whole other thing. Cordelia Foxx took your breath away from the moment you met her. She was aware of your boundaries and willing to obey them- something few people did. Not to mention she was heavenly. It was shocking that no one took her seriously. She had very little control over the girls -Madison was the worst. She was incessantly rude to everyone who crossed her path, but Cordelia never raised her voice at any of you. You wish she did, that movie star needed to be put in her place.

 It was common knowledge among the students that you worshipped the land that Cordelia walked on, which flooded you with inappropriate comments from the others whenever she left the room. 

 She had one flaw. Her husband.

 Your chances were cut off when met Hank Foxx. You immediately loathed the man. Whether it was due to your new-found feelings for your teacher or a sixth sense, you had an intuition about how people were. He was rotten to the core. You got the same feeling when Fiona showed up. Fiona gave you the heebie-jeebies. Her aura was dark- nothing good could come from her arrival. 

 This place was meant to be your haven. At first, it was. No serious harm happened to anyone in the coven. Your urge to help people was manageable. To play it safe whenever someone got injured, you rushed out. Paper cut, you were out of the room in a second. The school began to think you were squeamish at the sight of blood until the girls had caught you watching a slasher.

 The group had come back from watching a horror movie at the cinemas. You weren't invited because they thought you wouldn't be able to handle it.  They were going to head into the living room to calm down for the night before heading to their respective rooms. 

 Madison strolled up to you to see what you were watching, "Hi bitch." She grabbed your shoulders shoving you forward. The sudden contact caused you to jump. You scrambled to pause your movie.

 It was Zoe who noticed what you were watching first. “Y/n, how are you watching that?” Zoe asked. The group stared at the screen. 

 “I stole miss’s laptop,” you were oblivious to what she was asking. Fearing they would rat you out, you tried to reason with them, "She had Netflix and I couldn’t help myself.” 

 “Are you watching a slasher?” Queenie asked. 

 “Yeah?”

 “They have blood in it,” she spoke again, hinting at why they were surprised. 

 “It wouldn’t be a good slasher if it didn’t.” You were left in the dark when it came to what the others thought about you.

 The commotion late at night caused Cordelia to appear asking what they were doing up this late.

 “We caught Y/n watching a slasher,” Nan filled Cordelia in. Her face went from confusion to surprise.

 “I thought you didn’t like the sight of blood?” Cordelia said.

 “No- I mean, I don’t like it, but I can stand it.”

 “Then why do you dash at the sight of blood?”

 “Odd behaviour for someone who can stand the sight," One of the girls said. 

 “I’m done with this conversation; I’m going to bed.” You got up and left the room, leaving the laptop left open where it was.

 “Is that my laptop?” Cordelia asked. 

 You kept your secret intact for another day, but you feared that soon they would know. 

 The next morning you all received a talk about taking other people's things. This was obviously addressed to you. Madison made a joke about her being lucky that you didn’t look through her porn, which led to loads of questions about whether you had looked said stash or if she even had anything to find. Madison brought it up to mess with you and all the others decided to join in once they noticed how red you got. The whole tangent making both you and Cordelia immensely uncomfortable. Cordelia cleared her throat, catching the attention of all the girls before one of them could make another inappropriate comment. The headmistress decided to end the morning meaning early.

 The oldest witch couldn’t have wanted to leave any faster.

 “Ms Foxx?" She hummed to notify you that she heard. She focused all her attention on you. You observed her body language, her hands clasped together in front of her. You screwed but big this time. She was in a rush to get out of here and now you’re keeping her longer forcing her to interact with you, in what is going to be a failure of an apology, you thought. "I'm sorry about borrowing your laptop. For the record, I only used it to watch movies. I didn't look through any personal files like Madison was suggesting and I know that me saying that makes it seem like I did but-"

 She cut you off, "I know you wouldn't do that," she said. "They were just riling me up." Yeah. Wait, her up. How would that rile her up? You thought.

 “So, we’re good?”

 “Yes. Now run along, I think breakfast is being served.” She nudged you towards the kitchen. “I’ll see you in class.”

[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”

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Old Flame: Pt. 3

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2248

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

Before proceeding, you insisted that the three stooges—Rebekah, Stefan and Damon—take you out for a drink to clear your mind. It’s no surprise that Kai wanted tag along. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Rebekah wasn’t a huge fan of him so she had him sit farthest away from her at the bar.

After a couple of hours of sipping slowly to cool off, you finally agreed to do this favor for the Mikaelson family. Kai was not pleased at all by your decision. He had the idea to tag along with you but you denied him up until he brought up the favor he did for you yesterday. You owed him.

Rebekah explained how ruthless her brother can be and that if he sees Kai, there’s no doubt Klaus won’t grant him any mercy if he says one wrong thing to him. So you ordered Kai not to be within a mile radius of Klaus, no matter what.

“Ha. I can take him.” Kai implied.

You groaned. “It’s not about who’s tougher than who. Just do what I say for once. You’re lucky I’m even agreeing to this.”

“God you’re so hot when you’re frustrated.” Kai smirked and you rolled your eyes. “Oh fine. I’ll keep a close distance.”

No response came out of you. You parted ways and got to packing for god knows how long.

(Later…)

Rebekah informed you later that evening that she has important matters to attend to. She plans to take a different jet and will meet you in NOLA.

You were fine with sitting in coach, but Rebekah already had a private jet ready and waiting for you the following morning. When the jet took off, you threw on your headphones and allowed yourself a nap to pass the time.

When you landed, you called Rebekah straightaway. You scoffed when she sent you voicemail. But you received a text from her not a minute later with details about what to do next.

At first Rebekah planned for you to stay with her family at the Mikaelson compound. But, you rejected her plan and chose to stay at Kai’s hotel, no matter how much you are dreading it.

Later, you and Kai checked into the hotel suite, followed by grabbing food in the French quarter. “Wow this city is nothing like Mystic Falls.” Kai mentioned as he’s sitting across from you. He frowned when he noticed you constantly glancing around at everything except him. “Hey.” He placed his hand over yours on the table, snapping you out of it. “I can hear your heart beating like crazy.”

You briskly moved your hand away to your lap. “Mind your manners, Kai.” Your eyes narrowed at the heretic before continuing on your meal.

“This ex really did a number on you. Tsk. Tsk.” He shook his head as he signaled for the waitress. When the waitress appeared with a smile strewn across her face, Kai flickered his eyes around, assuring nobody is paying attention so that he can compel her. “Be a good girl and slit your wrist into this cup for me, pretty please.” She obeyed to his command and a few seconds later, he brought her attention back. “You’re a doll. Go bandage that up now.” The waitress covered her injured wrist and disappeared to cover it up.

With his fingertips, Kai pushed the glass of blood towards you. You didn’t say a word, bringing the glass to your lips.

A moment later, your phone rings and it’s Rebekah. “Hey.” You said.

“Hello my lovely sister.” She greeted softly. “Meet me here at the compound. I will text you the address.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Allow yourself in when you reach the gates.”

“Sure.” You ended the call.

Hearing word for word of your phone conversation, Kai sighed dramatically after you hung up. “I guess this is where we part ways. Temporarily of course.” He pouted.

“Quit being dramatic, Kai.” You let out a chuckle. “You’re in New Orleans. There’s plenty of activities to do and plenty of women who will swoon over you. Especially on bourbon street.” You stood, reaching for your wallet in your coat pocket.

Kai snorted as he halted you, swiftly pulling out his wallet as a gesture to pay. “I got you, girl.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

You brushed past Kai and mapped walking directions to the compound using the address Rebekah provided for you.

The city was always moving and there was never a dull moment. Jazz music all around brought you to contentment during your stroll. You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as you take everything in.

A figure beside you cleared his throat as if to get your attention. You shift your view and learn that it’s Elijah Mikaelson, dressed to the nines in one of his many finest suits. “My dear, Y/N.” He greeted with a soft smile.  

You briefly gazed at him. “Long time no see, Elijah.” You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes. “Have you been following me?”

Elijah sustained his view straight ahead. “I was tending to an important matter and it just so happens I am granted by your presence on my venture back home. Though, Rebekah and I are especially grateful that you are here to help Niklaus.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” You ended the navigation on your phone and threw it in your back pocket, you shrugged your shoulders for a moment. “I just...I don’t know exactly what to do and what to say to him.”

“We only ask that you spend as much time as you can with Niklaus. However, I wish to warn you that we are unaware as to how he will react to your presence.”

You stopped in your tracks and Elijah did too, but with grace. “So you’re saying that he doesn’t even know about me coming here?” The bewildered expression on your face was hard to miss.

“Indeed. But no need to be alarmed, Y/N.”

“Elijah, do you know how long it’s been? What if he tells me to leave?” Now you’re starting to feel like a fool for coming all the way here.

“If my brother does strike you with such words, I assure you he will not mean it.” Elijah gently placed a hand over your shoulder to calm you. “He is going through a rather difficult time. All Rebekah and I ask is for your patience.”

You swallowed, leisurely nodding your head. “Okay sure.” You sighed, continuing your stroll to the Mikaelson compound.

“Rebekah has informed me that you’ve brought a friend along on your journey?” Elijah asked in a casual tone.

“Unfortunately. But he knows to keep his distance.”

“Splendid.”

“So…” You paused. “Where’s Klaus?”

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer. I have been rather busy all day.”

“Oh.” You glanced at the gravel. “By the way, I’m sorry about the loss of your niece. I can’t imagine what you’re all going through.”

“Yes. It is rather unfortunate.”

The remainder of the stroll lingered with no words exchanged. Shortly after, you are met with an enormous building here in the French quarter.

“Of course you guys live in a huge house.” You were in disbelief. “This is bigger than the old mansion in Mystic Falls.”

“Why yes.”

You followed behind Elijah as you enter the compound step by step. The sharp creaking sound of the gates closed behind you and there is utter silence up until you are in the center of the compound. You also noticed Rebekah is nowhere in sight.

“Elijah! You must know that tonight is another full moon!” Came an all too familiar voice that you felt like you haven’t heard in ages.

A voice that has expressed its love to you many times and many moons ago.

A voice that is feared amongst many. Except you.

Klaus.

Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes were suddenly glazed with a glassy layer of tears.

You froze like a statue, stunned at the hybrid before you. He still looked handsome as ever.

Elijah’s lips parted at your disorderly state before peering up at his brother who is making his way down from the second floor, completely oblivious of your arrival.

Klaus sees Elijah’s presence first, but as he reached the last step, he finally noticed you. He gripped onto the railing. His expression was as if he saw a ghost, eyes wide open and mouth dropping to the floor.

He attempted to speak, but the words could not form, so he closed them together to avoid any embarrassment.

You still stood there stiff as a log with your hands clenched into fists at your sides, sustaining your stare. A peep could not come out of your mouth either. You were self-conscious at your uncontrollable reaction. It’s as if you were on autopilot.

Klaus’s eyes abruptly flooded with tears. “My love?” His voice broke.

Your breath hitched in your throat, unable to get a hold of yourself. So you vampire sped out of the compound in the blink of an eye.

Klaus remained still, bottom lip nearly trembling as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. His brows furrowed as he continued to stare at the spot you once stood at. He even wondered if you were truly here in the flesh? It also stung him a little that you left so suddenly.

Elijah leisurely stepped towards the immobile hybrid. “Niklaus.”

Klaus blinked rapidly, allowing the built up tears to drip down his cheeks. Instead of giving Elijah the time of day, he turned on his heel and marched back up towards his bedroom, allowing the door to slam behind him. He needed time to process what just happened.

Elijah waited a matter of minutes before proceeding to Klaus’s room.

He turned the knob carefully and announced his arrival. “Brother.” Klaus’s bedroom was an utter mess with numerous blank and half finished canvases.

Elijah found his brother on his balcony, overlooking the quarter as he’s gripping onto the railing. “Elijah. What the bloody hell is she doing here? Is this your doing?”

“Y/N is here to help you. As a matter of fact, this is Rebekah and I’s doing.”

“I do not need help.” Klaus implied through clenched teeth. “And even if I did, she’s run off. She’s not coming back, Elijah.”

“Brother. You must understand that seeing you after all this time is rather difficult for Y/N as it is for you. Give her time.”

“Was she compelled to come here?” Klaus asked, turning his view to Elijah who is now standing beside him. Klaus’s eyes widened and he drew his lips back in a snarl. Elijah’s brows creased together in confusion. “Answer me!” The hybrid snapped.

“No brother. We would never resort to such actions. Y/N has willingly agreed to come here. For you.”

Klaus turned and started slowly pacing inside his room, pondering. “I see.” He finally said after a minute of silence. He hadn’t realized how much he truly missed you until he saw your presence displayed before his very eyes. It’s a lot to take in.

Elijah reentered, shutting the doors to the balcony. “Do you wish for me to retrieve her?”

“No Elijah. I’ll await her return.” Klaus said with distress. If it were up to him, he’d go out and search for you. But he cannot because he needs to stay locked in the compound as he continues to sell his grief to the world.

Elijah’s cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. It’s a text from Rebekah following up with him.  

(Meanwhile…)

As soon as you were out of the compound, you walked as fast as you could and as far away as you could. You sloppily wiped your tears with the backs of your hands.

After frantically walking a few more blocks, you passed Kai, who is busy flirting with a random girl he just met. You were too distraught to take in your surroundings but Kai just so happened to notice you speed walk past him. He immediately ditched the girl to catch up to you.

“Hey hey. What’s wrong hunnybun? Did he hurt you?” Kai asked with obvious concern. You slowed your speed walking.  

If you weren’t so upset, you’d scold Kai for that ridiculous nickname. You sniffled before responding. “Oh hey, Kai.” You took in a deep breath, managing to pull yourself together. “Well. I saw him.”

”Seriously, did he hurt you? We can go back so I can beat up that son of a-”

You placed your palm up for a moment to cut Kai off. “No. He didn’t do anything. I saw him and I freaked out and ran away like an idiot.”

“Oh.” Kai unclenched his fists. “Do you plan on going back?”

“Of course, Kai. We flew all this way. I just need to cool off and get my emotions in check.”

“Gee. Well I’m just surprised the sister didn’t chase after you.”

“Rebekah wasn’t even there. I haven’t seen her since the grill.” You started to wonder where Rebekah could be, however, you won’t even bother to call her because she’ll just ignore your call. Without hesitation, you entered inside the nearest bar named Rousseau's. “Anyways, I need a whiskey or two.”

-

A/N: Whoa! So much happened here :) I’d love to hear your thoughts on part 3! And in case you’re wondering, there will be a part 4!

TAGS: @ynm1505 @ravenmoore14 @xdontxcare @seasiren96 @anyasthoughts @woodworthti666 @agentmarvel13 @miss-lumiere @elizabeth-ann1090 @physically-a-cheesecake

[noizchild]

What This Week Looks Like:

Monday-Tuesday:

Love or Hate (Original, chapters twenty to twenty-one)

Summary: Isao Hishikawa is the lead singer of the band Charm Inu. They have great success and many fans. But soon, Isao and the band find themselves in competition with an all-girl rock group called Lady Dragon. If that wasn’t enough, his mother secretly remarries a foreigner. His step-father turns out to be the uncle of the vocalist of Lady Dragon.

Monday:

Tea Leaves and Purple Robes (Wasteland 2011, Hetalia, Durarara, and D.Gray-Man, Match Thirteen)

Summary: Vol. 9 is up. Ju is supposed to be happy with her husband and new baby, Jing. But the threat of Allison’s interest in the children is making that too difficult to take place. Ju is starting to have visions that involve her son. Yao wants to help her but she won’t up and talk to him. Meanwhile, the remaining six seals around the world are starting to break.

Wednesday:

Love Puzzle (Original, Chapter nineteen)

Summary:  Wallace moves to this new arts apartment to seek fame and win back his love. He ends up with even more.

Black Swan Wonderland  (Wasteland 2011, Hetalia, Durarara, and D.Gray-Man, Halo Seven)

Summary: Vol. 9. Core story. All seven gates have been open and the game is now pushed into the fast lane. Tandeki moves forward with their plans. The seven deadly sins come into Ikebukuro and turn the city into a breeding ground for the Woman in Red’s arrival. Meanwhile, Project Heaven gets to work on their branch of the game. More memories keep flooding back. Here comes Act II.

Tengoku.Chikyu.Jigoku (Ghost Hound, Volume Ten, Season Finale)

Summary: Once Natalia tells Taro and his friends everything that the angels have figured out, it becomes a race to get Baby Doll back and to get back to reality. Only problem is that forces in the Hidden World have ideas as their own. More secrets come out that threaten to tear everyone apart. Meanwhile, Baby Doll tries to escape from the White Room but her captor has a new way to keep her.

Thursday:

New Orleans Hustler (Original, One-shot)

Summary:  Louise goes home to a post-Katrina New Orleans.

Rest of the Week:

The Italian Princess (Original, chapters 1-6)

Summary:  A look into Diamond's beloved home for fourteen days.

Friday:

End of Days  (Wasteland 2011, Hetalia, Durarara, and D.Gray-Man, Key Three)

Summary: Vol. 9. Third and final part of the Wasteland Project. The world is slowly dying. It all starts with a grisly mass murder in England. From there, everything from the Apocalypse game falls into place. More blood will be shed. The angels will respond to the living world above them. Ami’s child is due to be born. Meanwhile, the war with the angels and monsters take a turn for worst.

[momlovesyoubest]

With Irma's Carnage- Do You Need a Midlife Family Meeting to do an Aging Parent Disaster Plan ?

With Irma’s Carnage- Do You Need a Midlife Family Meeting to do an Aging Parent Disaster Plan ?

  Warning- close your family floodgates as New Orleans closed theirs after Hurricane  Issac and Katrina.

September’s catastrophic disaster with Hurricanes Irma and  Harvey hitting near the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina should conjure up a midlife sibling nightmare. It brings back the now recurring goblins of Katrina -the most gruesome weather cataclysm where 39 elderly residents died, trapped…

[stoweboyd]

Connecting the Dots for Journalism

In Down and Out in the Gig Economy, Jacob Silverman lays out part memoir, part economic analysis of the lot of freelance journalists. He is one:

In truth, freelance journalism, as a career, is mostly an anachronism. Given the rock-bottom rates on offer, few writers actually support themselves with full-time freelancing. A lucky handful churn out features for the New York Times Magazine and GQ for $2 a word and then deliver half-apologetic aw-shucks accounts of their success on the Longform podcast, which dispenses romantic tales of literary striving to a mass of naive supplicants.

But for most of us, freelance journalism is a monetized hobby, separate from whatever real income one earns. The ideal relationship for a freelance journalist to their work becomes a kind of excited amateurism. They should hope for professional success and acceptance but always keep a backup plan or three in mind. They will likely not be welcomed past the gates of full-time employment. By year five or six, they might be rebranding themselves as “editorial consultants” or “content strategists,” realizing that any genuine fiscal opportunity lies in shepherding corporate content to life.

It’s worth asking what this dynamic does to journalism—the stories untold, the investigations never performed because a shift behind the bar pays better or because the publication won’t pay for a train ticket. Nor is there much room for career development or mentorship when editors, often operating under page-view or production quotas of their own, are disconnected from their labor force. But then, gig economies are ersatz structures, designed to skirt labor laws and offload risk and expense onto workers themselves. They serve the whims of capital, which—if the recent wave of private equity–led media takeovers is anything to go by—seems to be focused on extracting whatever last profits it can before leaving the news industry’s desiccated corpse by the roadside.

Match this with the more analytic take of Keach Hagey, Lukas Alpert, and Yaryna Serkez in In News Industry, a Stark Divide Between Haves and Have-Nots, and you can see the US newspaper industry —print and digital — is in free fall, except for a few national players:

After suffering a historic meltdown a decade ago in the financial crisis, American newspapers began racing to transform into digital businesses, hoping that strategy would save them from the accelerating decline of print.

The results are in: A stark divide has emerged between a handful of national players that have managed to stabilize their businesses and local outlets for which time is running out, according to a Wall Street Journal analysis of circulation, advertising, financial and employment data.

Local papers have suffered sharper declines in circulation than national outlets and greater incursions into their online advertising businesses from tech giants such as Alphabet Inc.’s Google and Facebook Inc. The data also shows that they are having a much more difficult time converting readers into paying digital customers.

The result has been a parade of newspaper closures and large-scale layoffs. Nearly 1,800 newspapers closed between 2004 and 2018, leaving 200 counties with no newspaper and roughly half the counties in the country with only one, according to a University of North Carolina study.

Meanwhile, about 400 online-only local news sites have sprung up to fill the void, disproportionately clustered in big cities and affluent areas, the UNC study found.

The shrinking of the local news landscape is leaving Americans with less information about what's happening close to them, a fact Facebook recently acknowledged as it struggled to expand its local-news product but couldn’t find enough stories. Local TV news is still a major, if declining, source of news for Americans, but local newspapers are vanishing.

As the WSJ writers point out, the online jobs are coastal, and the declining print newspapers' jobs are distributed across the country, resulting in swathes of the country with no reporting:

Newspaper jobs declined by 60% from 465,000 employees to 183,000 employees between 1990 and 2016, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Since January, more than 1,000 newspaper jobs have disappeared through layoffs and buyouts.

Jobs in the Bureau of Labor Statistics’s internet publishing and broadcasting category, the best measure of online news employment available, rose from 29,000 to 197,800 during the same period. Those jobs have been highly concentrated in New York and California, according to a Journal analysis of Bureau of Labor Statistics data.

That would leave large swaths of America with radically diminished access to local news. A future without newspapers, Mr. Mele of the Shorenstein Center, says, is “actually a crisis for democracy.”

At many outlets, no amount of job cuts could save them. Openings of online-only news sites haven’t made up for flood of newspaper closures. The result is that rural areas and poor neighborhoods are fast becoming news deserts.

So, we have an enormous hollowing out of the news industry (and by extension, journalism as a whole), with really bad outcomes for our society. No matter your political affiliation, a wholesale collapse of local coverage must be considered negative. At the same time, more of the work that does remain is being shopped out to freelancers in a gig economy model, with decreasing pay and increasing precarity.

These trends point toward a not-too-distant future with only a few newspapers that succeed in making the transition to a future based on paid subscriptions for digital (and some print) content, like the NY Times, the WSJ, and the WaPo. Nearly all other regional papers are trending down, and fast. Online journalismish jobs are rising but at a rate that is slower than the fall of traditional work.

And how many journos can eke out an existence with a paid newsletter? Not many.

In a few years, these people -- and Jacob -- might be working in in corporate PR, starting a brewery, or installing solar panels as part of a national infrastructure job.

Just at the point that I was posting this story, I read this: Entire staff of New Orleans Times-Picayune laid off, with about 65 writing and editing staff axed.

[ride-shotgun]

NOLA and All That Jazz

New Orleans in February is a very unique an exciting adventure! It’s a city with a palpable beating life, and that is never more tangible than the weeks leading into Mardi Gras and the burgeoning springtime. 

I have to admit that I underestimated this trip. I didn’t quite know what to expect or what I wanted to check off my list while I was there. My Google searches leading up to my departure turned up more of the same voodoo tours and swamp excursions that I judged before I read their descriptions. 

I booked knowing that I had to see the French Quarter, so I splurged for a stay at the Omni Royal Orleans Hotel. The beautiful historic hotel features a friendly and welcoming staff, a rooftop pool, beautifully restored antique chandeliers, and a second floor resident ghost. It has a specifically French Quarter feel, with the familiar hint of antebellum charm that touches every bit of this city.

I learned very quickly upon arrival that this city had far more to offer than I could have imagined! Our 4-day trip covered a lot of ground, and at the end of the trip there were still a few things left on our to-do list. Come check it out!

Have you seen…?

Jackson Square

Jackson Square is very simply a sight right out of Disney Land. It’s no wonder that Disney chose New Orleans as one of their many magical settings, this area alone looks like the perfect American Antebellum castle. One of the most recognizable focal points of the park is St. Louis Cathedral, which sits just outside of the park’s gates. On a sunny day, you’ll find dozens of artists and vendors lined up along the outside of the park, ready to exhibit and sell their creations. The park itself is small but beautiful, centering around a statue of President Andrew Jackson, who led the American to victory against the 1815 British in the Battle of New Orleans.

Mississippi River

From the center of New Orleans, and even from the busy streets of the French Quarter, it’s easy to forget that this city sits on the edge of the great Mississippi River. Along the bank is a beautiful river walk, that winds past the Aquarium and the famous Café de Monde. It’s a great place to get a different perspective of the area.

Garden District & Lafayette Cemetery

The Garden District is a short drive outside the city and into the suburbs. Lafayette Cemetery, where our Uber dropped us off, sits at the edge of the residential Garden District. Lafayette was the city’s first planned cemetery- and it did take some serious planning! It’s occupants are buried in raised graves, which protect the sites from being destroyed by frequent flooding. I don’t even want to think about what happened before they constructed the mausoleums!

Taking a walk outside of the cemetery, you begin to notice quickly that these neighborhood homes are far different than the buildings of the Business District or French Quarter. The mini-mansions are known for their luscious gardens and grand architecture. Many feature wrought iron gates and trellises that frame the high balconies. These homes were built by wealthy American 19th Century families who wanted to live further from the craziness of the French Quarter.

And on your left…

Swamp Tour

If you had asked me the week before I left if I’d be taking a swap tour in New Orleans, I would have said probably not. It didn’t really seem like something I’d enjoy until we got to New Orleans and I realized that this area is unlike any other. This is a region of the world that I wasn’t at all familiar with, even though it wasn’t all that far away. It really does feel like a whole different world. It was this disconnect from my norm that led me to want to go on a swamp tour!

Cajun Encounters became a staple for us during our New Orleans stay, mostly because they picked us up right from our hotel in the morning and took us to places we wouldn’t have reached on our own. We booked this first tour with the company an hour before our hotel pick up. We were looking for something distinctly New Orleans to do with our day (that wasn’t Bourbon Street), and we certainly found it. Loaded up on a long swamp boat, our tour guide took us into the heart of the living  swamp and introduced us to the beautiful vegetation and animal life on the swamp. We saw tree snakes, raccoons, wild pigs, and of course alligator. This was a very unique way to see a different side of the south!

Oak Alley Plantation Tour

Like many southern states, New Orleans and the surrounding area was forever changed by the American Civil War. Oak Alley Plantation was once was once one of many estates built on the backs of slaves. What was once a contained sugar plantation, is now a bustling tribute to the American Antebellum era and the impact of the Civil War. The Big House was last occupied in 1969 after a long history of traded ownership, a century of economic rise and fall, and the stain of former slavery.

The main focus of the Plantation is the Big House. The inside is decorated with replica period furniture, which sits beside a few original pieces. Like back in its day, the grounds are meticulously landscaped, particularly the canopy of live oaks that line the front walk. It is said that the original lady of the house, Celina Roman, didn’t like the look of the feathering Spanish moss, so it was constantly removed from these trees. Looking at the sloping branches and overflowing roots, there is still no sign of any “beards” on these 150+ year old trees.

Surrounding the Big House, different stations are available to teach the history of the estate and the surrounding area. A costumed Civil War reenactor will tell you about how the battles of the Civil War reached into life on this plantation and others like it. A shed across the way can answer every question you have ever had about farming and refining sugarcane, as the land once did. In sight of the back of the house are two rows of cabins where the plantation’s slaves were once housed. Each cabin teaches about a different role, hardship, custom or tool in the life of a plantation slave. This walk culminates in a list of the names of every slave employed on this property, bringing life and identity back to these people.

The Oak Alley Restaurant was one of our final stops before the end of our trip. Inside the quaint cottage, a friendly staff will ask you about your day at the plantation and offer to answer any questions that you still have. The food on site is great! This was my first (and personally last) experience with alligator bites, which our waitress handed over with such excitement and lingered to watch us try! All in all, Oak Alley was a great way to spend a day on the outskirts of New Orleans!

Creole Queen Jazz Cruise

One of the biggest selling points to this destination is the local culture, and the music was a big part of that! Embracing our inner Huck Finn, we set sail on the Mississippi River on the Creole Queen. This Paddlewheeler offered two different packages for our night cruise: one with dinner included and one without. We opted for the package without food, but sitting in the dining room, listening to the band play and smelling the delicious scents of the dinner, we decided it may have been worth it. Somewhat satisfied with the snacks we’d eaten on the way to the port, we sipped our hurricanes as the ship set sail down the Mississippi. The band on board played a collection of classic jazz, sprinkled with some show tunes. They created a wonderful atmosphere for our cruise. Even better, we could still hear the band playing from outside on the upper deck of the ship!    

Can I take your order?

Café Du Monde

New Orleans is famous for a lot of different types of food, but this one really satisfied my sweet tooth. Café Du Monde is said to be the best place in the French Quarter for beignets! Being the only beignets that I tried during my visit, I can’t really say how they stack up, but they were delicious! The café literally serves three things: beignets, hot chocolate and coffee. What else do we really need? Even better, the café is open 24 hours a day, so those late night beignet cravings are totally okay!

Manning’s

Manning’s happened to be one of the only places in the city to air the Super Bowl. As New Englanders who happened to be headed down to NOLA for Super Bowl weekend, we had mixed feelings about the Saints getting jilted out of the championship. The Saints fans did not. In the most proud and dedicated “protest” I had ever seen, 99% of bars in New Orleans refused to show the game. Saints fans took the street to party during the broadcast, and protest concerts and parades were happening all over the city. This was one of the most passionate displays I have ever seen from a sports rally! As those New Englanders out of place, it was a little problematic. After a few calls to bars who were choosing to air the puppy bowl, the kitty bowl, or the 2010 Super Bowl instead, we found Manning’s.

Manning’s is owned by the family of Payton and Eli Manning, so we shouldn’t have been surprised that they would show a football game, no matter which teams were playing. The inside was a sports fan’s dream. Three rows of recliners at the front of the room faced a theater-size television that took up most of the wall. Outside, there was patio seating facing another large screen. This place is the champion of all sports bars!

Acme Oyster House

Speaking of famous foods in the area, Acme Oyster House was a great place to find them all! There’s an obvious reason that the line to get into this little restaurant stretches all the way down the street almost all the time. Don’t worry, the line moves quickly! The restaurant serves customers inside within minutes and turns table over very efficiently. The food is everything that you came to New Orleans for in the first place. Jambalaya, gumbo and every po-boy that you can imagine, this place has the whole array of delicious Cajun classics! 

Ruby Slipper Café

As we were looking into brunch across different restaurants in the French Quarter, we noticed that most brunch places served a menu that more closely resembled just lunch. The Ruby Slipper satisfied our craving for breakfast foods! Stopping in at one of their many locations, we found a charming little café with a unique and delicious menu. I’d be happy to start every single day with the Ruby Slipper Mimosa, and the Bananas Foster Pain Perdu was incredible!

 Where’s the Party?

Bourbon Street

When you think nightlife in New Orleans, no doubt the first thing you think of is Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. There’s a certain expectation for this wild piece of the city that it definitely lives up to! Something that struck us (as those foreign New Englanders) was that there is no such thing as open container laws in this city. That’s right people, most bars serve in a plastic cup so that you can simply go on your merry way with drink in hand. Bourbon street is lined with bars from one end to the other. Each of these has a different theme or feel, but all are a wild time! This is the place to go for a sloppy drunken night on the town.

Pro-tip: Bourbon Street and the blocks around is are also packed with hotels! If you plan to bar hop your nights away, find a place to stay that’s conveniently close by!

Frenchman Street

Frenchman Street is the slightly less sloppy side of NOLA nightlife. This is the place where you’re more likely to take your drinks to-go and pop in and out of different bars along this strip. What makes this street different is the live music that you can find in almost every bar. Talented local jazz bands and individuals take each stage, creating a truly unique cultural feel and a special Southern charm. To me, this was New Orleans! I would definitely recommend taking a step away from Bourbon Street at some point to explore what Frenchman has to offer!

[shadowtail32]

Pieces of Time - Pilot: 2 (Dean x F!OC)

Summary: Gia Marks has been in the Winchester’s lives for a long time, now near death and in grave danger, Gia copes by remembering all the hunts they had been on and the bonds they created together.

Warnings: None.

“Jess excuse us.” Sam said as he pulled away from her pushing Dean and I toward the door of the apartment. I opened it swiftly grabbing Dean’s wrist pulling him along with me as I made for the stairs leading back down toward the car. “Come on, you can’t just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you.” Sam argued as he walked behind us.

“You’re not hearing me Sammy, Dad’s missing we need your help to find him.” Dean tried as he turned to look at him for a second before continuing down the stairs beside me. “You remember the poltergeist in Amherst or the Devil’s Gates in Clifton?” Sam called as he descended down the stairs behind us. “He’s always missing and he’s always fine.” Sam cried as he reached out grabbing Dean’s arm stopping the both of us. “Not for this long, now are you gonna come with us or not?” Dean asked looking up at Sam his hand finding mine.

“I’m not.” Sam said quickly. “Why not?” Dean asked sounding confused by Sam’s choice. “I swore I was done hunting for good.” Sam said with a serious look on his face putting his foot down. “Come on, it wasn’t easy but it wasn’t that bad.” Dean argued as she turned and started walking again pulling me with him. “Yeah, when I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45.” Dean scoffed shaking his head stopping before the gate that leads to the parking lot. “What was he supposed to do?” Dean asked. “I was nine years old, he was supposed to say ‘Don’t be afraid of the dark.’” “Don’t be afraid of the dark are you kidding me, of course you should be afraid of the dark you know what’s out there.” Dean said in disbelief giving Sam a look.

“Yeah I know but still, the way we grew up after mom was killed and Dad’s obsession to find the thing that killed her, but we still haven’t found the damn thing so we kill everything we can find.” Sam cried out his frustration as he looked at Dean. “Save a lot of people doing it too.” Dean argued giving Sam a look as Sam scoffed glaring at him. “You think Mom would have wanted this for us.” Sam said and my eyes widened immediately finding Dean’s figure in the darkness. Dean seemed to freeze for a moment before glaring at Sam and forcing the gate open dropping my hand as he walked through it leaving Sam and I behind before Sam rushed forward followed closely by me. “The weapon training and the melting the silver into bullets, man Dean we were raised like warriors.” Sam said calmly as he tried to get across how much he wanted nothing to do with this life.

“So what are you gonna do, are you just gonna live some normal apple pie life is that it?” Dean questioned as they walked toward the car stopping near the trunk. I sighed shaking my head already done with the argument wishing the two of them would just work something out. “No, not normal safe.” Sam shot back at Dean his face serious as he met Dean’s gaze strongly. “And that’s why you ran away.” Dean said after a moment his words more of a statement as he turned from Sam. “I was just going to college, it was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone and that’s what I’m doing.” Dean's face was stern and concerned as he spoke up. “Dad’s in real trouble right now if he’s not dead already I can feel it.”

It was quiet between the brothers as they looked at each other but I could see Sam beginning to change his mind. “We can’t do this alone.” Dean said finally breaking the wall of silence that had fallen around the three of us. “Yes you can.” “Yeah, Well I don’t want to.” Dean said finally looking away from his brother to look at me as I leaned lightly against the driver’s side of the car staring at both of the boys as they talked. His gaze was torn from mine however when Sam sighed shaking his head. “What was he hunting?” He asked finally giving in. I smiled and stepped forward opening the trunk for Dean as he moved around Sam to stand beside me.

“Alright let’s see where the hell did I put that thing?” Dean asked aloud as he started moving guns and knives out of the way as he dug through the messy hidden compartment of the trunk. “So when dad left, why didn’t you go with him?” Sam asked as he came to stand on Dean’s left side. “We were working our own gig this voodoo thing down in New Orleans,” Dean answered as he handed me a book that kept sliding in his way. “Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?” Sam asked sounding doubtful. “We’re 26 dude.” Dean answered for the both of us. “Alright here we go” Dean said as he finally located the documents he was looking for pulling them from their file. “So dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California.” Dean explained as he looked over the papers reaching over to hand Sam one. “About a month ago this guy they found his car but he’d vanished completely M.I.A.”

Sam looked at the papers for a few moments the wheels in his mind turning. “So maybe he was kidnapped.” Sam said trying to come up with a logical explanation looking back up at Dean. “Yeah, well here’s another one in April another one in December ’04, ’03, ’98, ’92.” He listed off as he placed more papers in Sam’s view. “Ten of them over the past twenty years all mean all same five-mile stretch of road.” Dean said before reaching back into the trunk for something else to drive his point home. “Started happening more and more so Dad went to go dig around, that was about three weeks ago I haven’t heard from him since which is bad enough.” Dean went on as he pulled out something I couldn’t quite see from the angle I had.

“And then I get this voicemail yesterday.” He said before clicking a button John’s voice flowing through the speakers. “Dean something is starting to happen I think it’s serious I need to try to figure out what’s going on.” John said the audio becoming too distorted to make out before his voice came flooding back. “Be very careful Dean, we’re all in danger.” I shook my head reaching up to fiddle with my necklace is words making me nervous. “You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam asked after the message had shut off. I cracked a smile reaching over to pat him on the back. “No bad Sammy, kinda like riding a bike isn’t it?” I asked a teasing tone finding my voice.

Dean smiled despite the situation and started playing around with the device again. “Alright, I slowed the message down and ran it through a Goldwave and took out the hiss and this is what I got.” He said before hitting play again. “I can never go home.” A woman’s voice whispered sending chills down my spine. I removed my arm from around Sammy and moved back to Dean’s side. “Never go home.” Sam repeated quietly looking up to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean nodded a little and moved back from the trunk allowing me to close the hatch and the trunk as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “You know in almost two years, we’ve never bothered you never asked you for a thing.” I spoke up turning to look at him after I had locked the trunk. Sam sighed looking away from both of us.

“Alright, I’ll go.” Sam said bringing a small smile to my face. “I’ll help you find him but I have to get back first thing Monday, just wait here.” He said as he turned around to walk back up to his apartment to grab a bag and say goodbye to Jess no doubt. “What’s first thing Monday?” I asked beating Dean to the question receiving a glare in return from said man. “I have an interview.” Sam explained turning back to us. “What, a job interview skip it.” Dean said shrugging his shoulders lightly. “It’s a law school interview and it’s my whole future on a plate.” Sam revealed.

“Law school?” Dean asked his tone unreadable. “So we got a deal or not?” Sam asked only receiving a nod in return. Sam looked at the two of us before continuing back to his apartment. “I can’t believe he actually agreed to come along.” I said breaking the silence as Dean and I waited for his brother to return. Dean nodded pursing his lips a little turning to look at me. “I have charm sweetheart I could talk anybody into anything.” He joked as he grinned at me. I scoffed rolling my eyes reaching up to slap his chest playfully. “You wish.” I said giggling as I leaned away from the car moving toward the door to the backseat. “I’m going to go ahead and try to catch up on some well-missed sleep; you wait for our big lawyer to come back.” I called over my shoulder as I slid into the backseat settling against the leather as I pulled the door shut behind me. I heard his laugh from outside though it was muffled by the car. I smiled shaking my head as I got comfortable on the seat closing my eyes.

I woke with a start when I hand firmly shook me from my sleep. “Jesus Dean.” I grumble sitting up glaring at him. “Sorry Valentine.” He teased using my childhood nickname as he slides out of the car popping his head through the open back window I’m heading inside want anything special?” He asked I hummed in thought taking a second to notice it was now morning and we were parked at a gas station. “Coke please.” I requested with a smile. “You got it.” He called over his shoulder as he turned to head inside.

“You have him wrapped around your finger.” Sam said suddenly from the front seat drawing my attention to him. I scoffed rolling my eyes. “No I don’t he was just asking what I wanted.” “He’s never called you Valentine.” He explained as he turned to look at me a small smirk plastered onto his face. “So we’ve gotten closer over the years, that’s what happens when you save each other almost every day of your life.” I said turning my head to look out the window ignoring his eye roll. “Hey, you want breakfast?” Dean asked Sam as he walked through the door handing me my pop and a bag of my favorite chips. “No thanks, so how’d you pay for that stuff?” Sam asked he sat looking through Dean’s collection of cassette tapes. “You and Dad still running credit card scams?” “Yeah well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career.” Dean answered as he stuck the gas nozzle back into the pump. “Besides all we do is apply it’s not our fault they send us the cards.”

Sam gave a breathy chuckle and turning his eyes back to the tapes. “Oh yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?” Sam questioned with an amused smile as he closed his door watching as Dean climbed back in behind the steering wheel. “Uh, Bert Aframian, his son Hector, and his daughter Beth scored three cards out of the deal.” “Sounds about right.” Sam said nodding as he picked up a few tapes. “I swear man you have got to update your cassette tape collection.” “Why?” Dean asked sounding slightly offended.

“Well for one they’re cassette tapes, and two; Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica, it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock,” Sam said in a teasing manner. “House rules Sammy, the driver picks the music shotgun shuts his cakehole and besides majority rules.” Dean said grinning as he popped Metallica into the player. “Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old, its Sam okay?” Sam complained shooting Dean a look.

“Sorry I can’t hear you the music’s too loud.” Dean called over the music as he turned it up tearing out of the gas station with a cheeky chuckle.

[chrissmithhomes]

Offered at $689,000!!! 5643 Cherlyn Drive Under Contract in 3 Days COVETED LAKEWOOD SOUTH ESTATES PROPERTY! HUGE IN-GROUND Pool + Detached Pool Cabana w/FULL Kitchen & Bath + 2nd Floor Guest Apartment. MAGNIFICENT 2 Story Home w/ 6 Bedrooms, 3 FULL + 1 Half Baths. Palatial Primary Suites on 1st & 2nd Floors. Incredible Room Sizes. Spacious OPEN Floor Plan & Light Filled Interiors. HUGE Chef's Kitchen w/EVERY Amenity. X Flood Zone. Detached Car-Port & Gated Off Street Parking. This is a FOREVER HOME & a SUPERB LOCATION!!! A Genuine MUST SEE!! PROPERTY IS PRICED TO SELL! . . . . . #neworleans #nola #nolahouses #realestate #realestateagent #realtor #luxuryhomes #followyournola #property #building #homes #houses #LakewoodSouth #interior #architecture #houses #homes (at New Orleans, Louisiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRg9eEnltrq/?utm_medium=tumblr

[teevillain]

Someone is getting a special box. [opens flood gates of inquiries about garment whereabouts] (at New Orleans, Louisiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGVtqzMgAXk/?igshid=4fiw87g5frml

[iesika]

This is a companion post for my Hannibal fic What The Water Gave Me which is, as far as I know, the only fanfic ever to need a companion post about flood hydrology. On Saturday, May 14, 2011, while Hannibal was shopping in the French Market, the Corps of Engineers opened one quarter of the gates on the Morganza Spillway and flooded about 4,600 square miles of south Louisiana. In places the flooding reached 25 feet. This was in addition to the previous opening of the Bonnet Carré spillway Sgt. Germaine Grant mentioned in chapter 2, which flooded a stretch of land between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain near New Orleans. You might even remember Sgt. Grant telling Jack and Hannibal that they were in a record breaking drought at the time. How, you may be asking. Why? You should be asking. It's insane. The Why is such a big deal it might have actually started the Great Depression, reversed the main political parties of the US, reshaped the racial demographics of America's cities and created a musical genre.

This is the watershed of the Mississippi River. Every bit of water that flows from every bright spot on that map, from rain, drains, toilets, crop irrigation, whatever, eventually makes its way, like the world's grossest funnel, down, more or less, to a single point at Red River Landing, Louisiana, where the Red River meets the rest. Not too south from there, the Atchafalaya river splits away from the Mississippi. Over the last few hundred million years, the Atchafalaya and the Mississippi have wiggled all over the place, as rivers do, and at any given time, which one was the major outlet to the sea has changed. Rivers do a lot of predictable but unpredictable things, but the most predictable thing they do is seek the lowest ground and the easiest path. If there isn't an easy path the river will make one.

In 1927, due to heavy rains all over the watershed, the Mississippi River flooded 27,000 square miles up to 30 feet and displaced well over 600,000 people, mostly in Arkansas, Mississippi and Louisiana. Monetary damages were equivalent to about one third of the entire Federal Budget at the time, or, in modern dollars, over a trillion dollars. Crop failures were huge, driving up food prices nationwide. Let me repeat that. 630,000 internally displaced refugees within the US, within the last century. Did you learn about that in school? I took 2 Louisiana History at two different schools, then took three American History classes at a college in the flood zone, and I learned about this because I googled a Randy Newman song in 2005.

200,000 of the displaced people were poor black people from mostly rural areas, most of them one generation removed from slavery. Most of these folks had little to nothing to use to relocate or to live on, so they were herded into refugee camps where they were stuck with nowhere to go and minimal supplies until the water started to recede months later. Racial tensions were sky high, and the racial disparity in aid, rescue and support was extremely clear. As soon as the water was low enough, tens of thousands of displaced black families joined what we now call The Great Migration - they didn't have a home to go back to, so they went to the big cities, both in the south and, for the first time, up north. Anybody you can think of from the classic Chicago blues scene? Probably ended up there after being displaced by this one event. Mahalia Jackson, who I spotlit last chapter, moved to Chicago at this time as a victim of The Great Betrayal (man, the 1920s were Great, huh?)

President Coolidge put Herbert Hoover in charge of managing the camps, where he made a whole lot of promises and ended up president. When he didn’t fulfill any of his promises to the black refugees, the entire black voting block swung, more or less permanently, to the Democrats. Huey P. Long rose to power in Louisiana on a wave of socialist populism and probably would have been president a decade later if he hadn’t been assassinated in the middle of the capitol building. If you don’t know about the Kingfish, look him up, because holy fuck our country was almost really, really different. As for the Great Betrayal I mentioned?

Wealthy (white) businessmen in New Orleans arranged to dynamite a levee in Caernarvon, Louisiana, flooding areas of St. Bernard and Plaquemines Parish where tens of thousands of (poorer) people lived and worked. Reconstructions have shown this was pointless and New Orleans would have been fine, because so many levees had already breached in other locations. Basically no one was ever consulted or  compensated for loss of property and livelihood. So it's no wonder that, during and after Hurricane Katrina, there was widespread belief that the flood protections had actually been deliberately sabotaged to flood the lower 9th ward and save downtown. People remember when you fuck them over and they never trust you again. Every school I've ever attended would have been underwater during the 1927 flood, but I never  learned anything about this, or about how we've stopped that from ever happening again. Sit tight, it's nuts. Prior to 1927 levees were local projects and they were largely homemade by non-engineers. Surely one big pile of dirt is the same as another, right? But levee construction is an art and a science. Alluvial dirt wants to settle; the ground is wet and it wants to move. After the shitshow of the Great Floods, the federal government created the world's largest flood control project. This is what federal governments are for. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, those unsung superheroes, planned and built a carefully planned and, one hopes, carefully maintained series of interconnected levees, dams, floodgates, spillways, canals and wetlands stretching across that whole area in the top image, but mostly along the Missouri, Ohio, Red, and Mississippi and Atchafalaya Rivers. It's known as the Mississippi River and Tributaries Project (MR&T) The Lower Mississippi and the Atchafalaya Basin in particular got a complete makeover.

We'll start at the very bottom, because it's simplest. The Bonnet Carré spillway was built 12 miles west of New Orleans to divert the Mississippi around the city in case of very high water. This spillway controls what was a natural flood route for as long as we've been keeping records and is opened on a fairly regular basis - every decade or so. This was one of the first parts of the MR&T completed, just four years after the flood. It's a mile and a half long and runs alongside of the river. When it opens, a channel about six miles long is flooded, dumping the river directly into Lake Pontchartrain and the surrounding marshlands to save the more populated areas. Lake Pontchartrain is huge (home of the longest bridge in the world!) and it has a wide opening to the Gulf of Mexico, so it can basically absorb as much water as we could possibly throw at it.  Upriver a bit, things are a little more complicated. I'm not going to go super in-depth. There are numerous control structures connecting the Atchafalaya and Mississippi. The biggest and the one most relevant to our story is the Morganza Spillway, located in Pointe Coupee Parish, upriver from Baton Rouge. If the water gets too high, it will overtop and undermine levees, and the force of moving water becomes so great that it would just shred the other existing control structures, even if they are wide open to let the most possible water through. There needs to be another emergency safety valve to take pressure off the system. The Morganza Spillway is about a mile long, and when it's wide open it lets 600,000 cubic feet of water through per second. That's about half the flow of the entire Mississsippi river at moderate flood stage, passing through one man-made structure, under the control of a handful of human beings.

So in the worst possible flooding scenarios, as happened in 1927, in 1973, and in 2011, the ACoE opens a little gap in the weir. They've never opened it all the way - max capacity has never been tested. This is a projection map from 2011 for what the flooding would look like with the system running at one quarter of total capacity (which is the scenario that ended up happening). Because yeah, people live in those areas! The area's also farmed for timber and drilled for oil. There isn't much commercial fishing - that mostly happens in the Gulf - but there's fish farming, including crawfish ponds. Mostly it's protected or semi-protected wetlands occasionally dotted with camps. I'm not sure if that word is in common usage with the same meaning elsewhere, so just in case, a camp is a (usually but not always cheap or rustic) house or structure not intended for full-time residence, where one can stay for access to water or hunting. You actually have to get a lot of surveying and permissions to build anything anywhere on any body of water in south Louisiana, because the balance of flood control and wetland preservation is so important and precarious, so most of the places in this area will have been grandfathered in rather than freshly built. The Morganza Spillway has been opened twice, once in the 70s and once during this fic. There is a huge, eight parish long and wide river moving over land that's been dry or swampy and only sparsely inhabited for 45 years. Think of all the things it might pick up on the way to sea?