#dark demon santa was certainly a choice

[cellydawn]

sans IS gaster (OR the sans theory masterpost pt. 2)

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

(drawn by me, color by @magenteel​)

Previously, we discussed: Sans and his hand in the destruction of a world, his connection to Ice-E and Deltarune, and how he relates to Gaster. We’re going to continue the thread we left off on.

Section III - Gaster (Cont.)

Snails are mentioned too many times throughout Undertale for them to not be of any significance. As it turns out, they are pretty important in unraveling the mystery behind Gaster and Sans.

When you enter the area with Napstablook’s snail farm, you’ll notice that Sans’s theme is playing despite him not making an appearance. 

In one of Papyrus’s phone calls, he mentions that Sans recently bought snail-shaped pasta and says “He’ll probably fill them with hotdogs and slime.” Toriel also owns a book called “72 User for Snails”. Track 72 in the Undertale OST is “Song That Might Play When You Fight Sans”. That’s multiple times that Sans is likened to snails. 

Snails belong under the taxonomic class Gastropoda. Gasterpods.

These long pauses between words and phrases are not unlike how Gaster speaks.

Here is Gaster speaking with us in the opening sequence of Deltarune. And...

Now. Let’s move on.

(More under the cut.)

Mus_smile is the track that plays in room_gaster. This is my personal opinion, but the character that is the most strongly associated with smiles is Sans.

And Sans is certainly intelligent enough to be the prime suspect for being Gaster. The proper name for his namesake is Comic Sans Microsoft, or Comic Sans MS. MS can also be used as a suffix for the name of a person who has a degree in a Master of Science.

Sans also owns quantum physics books. The subject of Gaster’s scientific research is revealed in Entry #17: “photon readings negative”. Photons are described as a "quantum" of electromagnetic energy, and are of course within the realm of study under quantum physics.

Gaster, like Sans, is brilliant yet slow-working. Slower than Alphys, who is repeatedly noted to have nothing to show yet as the royal scientist in the eyes of the people and is shown to slack off constantly.

Gaster is implied to have perished, and I suppose he did, in a way, if these speculations do end up being correct. However, there’s something more to this statement. Ghosts are sort of in the realm of being not-alive, and Sans and Napstablook have a surprising level of comparability.

They both:

Get likened to “garbage”

Have connections to snails (Napstablook runs the snail farm)

Speak completely in lower case

Pretend to sleep and say “Z’s” out loud

Have black “sclera”

And the black sclera is also a topic of its own; it’s equated with the status of being brought back to life. Being “determined”. (See: Asriel and Undyne)

Undyne is especially suspect due to the strange right-eye-phenomenon she has in common with Sans, with spears shooting out of hers. Spears that are actually colored light blue, not unlike Sans’s eye. 

To recap: 

Sans and Gaster are heavily involved in Deltarune

They have been displaced from time and space

They have connections to snails

They are both doctors with knowledge in quantum physics

They both “fell” into the abyss

They both talk similarly

They are both slow

They are both characterized by their smile

They are both some degree of dead

Sans is Gaster or a significant piece of him. Sans has Gaster Blasters because they belong to him. If all prior conjecture proves true, he is and will be responsible for the destruction of a world or THE world within Deltarune. After all, the Latin definitions of “gaster” and “sans” are to destroy and to be without, respectively. 

That brings us to the next subject: why is Sans Sans? More specifically, why is that his name? Why even change his name?

Below is the Japanese version of the fun event with Sans’s phone call. It features completely different dialogue from its English counterpart. 

Am I Licca-chan? (Select No) Then from now on call me Sans. I need to check every once in a while. I won’t know when my name has changed. 

“Licca-chan” is a well-known Barbie-esque dress-up doll in Japan, so popular to the point where it is even used as a synonym for other dolls from different companies. Perhaps it implies that Sans is adaptable due to Licca-chan’s nature as a doll and how she is in a constant state of change to reflect the times. It also seems to be a pun on “liquor” because Sans was talking about beer in the English version. I tried to scour the Japanese fandom for clues, but they also seemed stumped. If anyone has any ideas on what this could mean, please let me know!

Regardless, “Sans” doesn’t seem to be his actual name. Perhaps his true name was Gaster...?

Additionally, If the player changes the name of the fallen child via going into the code, this message appears in the stats menu. The vernacular is very Sans-like, with his frequent use of question tags at the end of his sentences (I counted 14 huh’s from Sans).

Finally, let’s talk about the number six. We know that it’s Gaster’s number--All of the explicitly Gaster-related fun events trigger for fun values in the sixties, Gaster’s stats are all comprised of 6′s, Gaster’s “typer-value” is 666--you get the idea.

The concept art Toby drew for the Alarm Clock’s character screen features what is presumably Sans and the number six.

“The Choice”--the track that plays during Sans’s judgements--is “Undertale” slowed down by 666%.

Section IV - Angels and Demons (The “Why”)

In modern day culture, 666 is closely associated with the devil. The Book of Revelation (13:17-18) asserts that 666 is “the number of a man” (this is important, and we’ll come back to it later) and is “the number of the Beast”. The Beast is mentioned as “coming out of the abyss”. 

Sounds a lot like someone else we know, doesn’t it? And how fitting for Sans, the one who judges our sins and demands us “to burn in hell”.

But if we go further, the Beast of Revelation is described to have seven heads representing seven kings. The beast itself is an eighth king who is of the seven and "was and is not and shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition." 

Chara is an eighth of the seven fallen children. 

There’s something Chara, Sans, and Gaster all share, and it’s their association with demons.

Here is an excerpt from the Cutting Room Floor:

Among the four strings in version 1.0, the last one, designated by variable “demond”, stands out for two reasons. 

 The letter “d” is separate from the other letters denoting the demon variables--the rest, “x”, “y”, and “z” are in sequential alphabet order.

The speech pattern of the last string is different from the others. It has that signature question tag at the end of the sentence that a certain character is known for.

In version 1.001, the strings clearly reflect Chara’s speech pattern. This time, all the variables are in sequential order from “a” to “d”. 

Pieces of dialogue at the near-end of a genocide route from Chara and Sans. Recall that Chara is using the same “Now” from earlier with Gaster and Sans.

Chara makes a reference to Banana Yoshimoto's book “Kitchen”. Take note of the page number.

Chara is also linked to the number nine. It’s the highest achievable stat in-game. It’s the stat of the locket and real knife. It’s how much damage Chara deals. It’s also the number six flipped upside down. 

The connections are undeniable. 

And yet, it goes further. Let’s take a look at how Christmas comes in to play.

In Deltarune, there are a few references to it, the most foremost probably being the importance of Noelle Holiday as a character. We also get Lancer’s laugh and the joke with “Krismas”.

Back to Undertale, there is significant Christmas iconography represented by “Gyfmas” and Gyftrot (bearing a strong resemblance to Photoshop Flowey, the DT Extractor, and Gaster Blasters).

What I’d like to focus on is Santa.  Papyrus describes him as “a chubby, smiling man who loves to surprise people.” From the thank you note addressed to Santa we find in Sans’s room, we can assume that Sans is a Santa, at least to Papyrus. It’s pretty fitting, since Sans can be described as someone who “knows if [we’ve] been bad or good”. Maybe he can even tell if we’re sleeping or awake with how the Dark World appears to be linked with sleep and dreams (please read my theory on Sans being a Darkner for more on this).

So we can reasonably conclude that Sans presents himself as a friendly, child-oriented figure, in-line with the nature of Comic Sans, a font for children, and Ice-E, a mascot of a company marketed towards children.

…

Santa is an anagram of Satan. 

…

To recap: Gaster’s association with the number 666 marks him as a “demon”. Chara and Sans are also called demons and similarly have connections to the number 6. This is more evidence that Gaster and Sans is or used to be the same people, and Chara has some form of correspondence with them.

I failed to mention before that there is actually a second Beast of Revelation “from the Earth” with "two horns like a lamb”. From the “earth” like Flowey, with horns like Asriel. 

Asriel is most likely the “Angel” depicted in the prophecy within the scope of Undertale; he’s named similarly to Azrael, an angel of death, and one of his attacks is literally called “Angel of Death”. He also bears a striking resemblance to the Deltarune in his God of Hyperdeath form.

Surprise, surprise, he and Sans also share parallels. 

Let’s start with their introductions. “Flowey the flower”. “Sans the skeleton”. It’s a similarly alliterative greeting and they’re both using fake names.

Mirrored dialogue yet again...

…and similar meta-commentary.

These three characters--Sans/Gaster, Chara, and Flowey/Asriel--they have all fallen. Gaster fell into his creation. Chara fell into the Underground. Asriel had “fallen down”. (Sans and Papyrus are also the only sibling pair other than Chara and Asriel. I won’t talk about Papyrus in this part though because this thing is shaping up to be too long already.)

What does this mean for Sans? I have a personal theory.

Above the entryway of the Judgement Hall, there is a reversed Deltarune. The triangles are inverted and the wings are more bat-like. In the room where only Sans appears, the same room that plays a version of “Undertale” slowed down 666%.

I think Sans is a candidate for the Angel prophesized to destroy the world in Deltarune. I think he is Sans Serif, a seraph. He fell into his experiment and became a “fallen” angel, a demon. 

The Angel’s Heaven mentioned alongside, on the other hand...  Heaven can also be used to refer to God. Dog is an anagram of God. 

Sans has many, many connections with dogs, especially one Annoying Dog. More on this next time.

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

[lackingspace]

Null Moon (Marko x Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count:5.5k 

Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing really. Just 80s slang, some suggestive themes, trigger warning for witchcraft I guess, vampire boys doing stalky vampire things, and expanding the magical community at large. Throw in psychic fliting too. The only real warning here is that I wax soliloquy, stopping me is impossible.

So I watched Lost Boys again and Marko just too pretty and wouldn’t stop, so I had to write about it. I’m dedicated to worldbuilding because it pleases me, so no smut yet, but don’t worry, its comin. Enjoy the 80s slang sprinkled everywhere. Out of no where I know, but I hope you all like it ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Part 2: Blood Moon ✧･ﾟ:

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change. 

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache.  

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating for the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process. 

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain. 

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda. 

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics. 

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted. 

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be black listed from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules. 

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here. 

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected. 

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance. 

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly. 

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened. 

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych.  

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be. 

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer.  

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm.  

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix. 

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city. 

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too. 

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the stores night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself. 

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night. 

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15 mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn. 

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes. 

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed. 

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift. 

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case.  

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out. 

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception. 

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over. 

Watched.

The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp. 

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere. 

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave. 

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out. 

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition. 

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question. 

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising. 

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation. 

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned. 

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list. 

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses. 

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what. 

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded. 

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise. 

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest. 

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance. 

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up. 

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape. 

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble. 

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter. 

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that. 

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level. 

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire. 

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you. 

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally. 

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss. 

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake. 

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways. 

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing. 

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way,  “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own. 

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off. 

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite. 

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day. 

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.” 

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you? 

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality. 

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad. 

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face. 

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead. 

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.” 

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks. 

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.” 

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.” 

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow. 

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking. 

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!” 

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”

[lgbtqiahistoricalromance]

LGBTQIA+ Historical Romance Novels w/ Ghosts, Vampires, and Other Gothic Delights!

Graveyard Sparrow by Kayla Bashe (f/f)

Katriona Sparrow, dubbed the Mad Heiress by most of London’s upper class, is the deceptively fragile ward of a foreign nobleman. She can’t stand making small talk with strangers, but she’s unparalleled when it comes to deciphering the dead. On a routine investigation, though, something goes horribly wrong, leaving Katriona catatonic in an upscale hospital and a serial killer with an artistic bent stalking London’s most vulnerable.

Enter Anthea Garlant, a young witch and academic ostracized from polite society for traveling the world without a chaperone.

She devises magical accommodations to protect Katriona from the side effects of her abilities — but as she grows more and more attached to the other woman, her professional façade begins to slip. Will they be able to stop the man who turns beautiful dead women into works of art — the man who is closer to Katriona than anyone suspects?

In The Valley of the Earth by RR Pearl (The Watchers #1) The only thing more dangerous than their chemistry…is their enemies! Mild-mannered Xenoarcheologist Dr. Alec Coimhead and his best friend, Dr. Clemy Armistead, are certain that they have just found the ancient location of an apocryphal battle between demons and angels. Whisked away on a rollicking adventure, Alec finds himself under the watchful eye of Rafe, a taciturn mountain of a man with a mysterious past.

Working with the enigmatic Praesidium, which claims to have protected humanity for generations, Alec clashes with his ethereally handsome bodyguard. As the New Watchers pursue the rambunctious pair across the globe, Alec and Rafe will have to battle ancient terrors and mythical creatures come to life. Racing to the ancient tomb of a fallen angel, Alec and Rafe may lose it all - and each other - to save the world. The Watchers: In The Valleys Of The Earth is the first book in an MM Action Adventure paranormal romance series.

Heart of Stone by Johannes T. Evans

The year is 1764, and following a glowing recommendation from his last employer, Henry Coffey, vampire, takes on a new personal secretary: young Theophilus Essex. The man is quite unlike any secretary - or any man, for that matter - that Henry has ever met. — ‘Heart of Stone’ is a slowly unfolding period romance between a vampire and his inimitably devoted clerk: lushly depicted in flowing, lovingly appended prose, we follow the slow understanding these two men grasp of one another, and the cross of their two worlds into each other’s.

Henry Coffey, immortal and ever-oscillating between periods of delighted focus upon his current passion project, is charming, witty, and seems utterly incapable of closing his mouth for more than a few moments; in contrast, Theophilus Essex is quiet and keenly focused, adopting an ever-flat affect, but as time goes on, he relaxes in his employer’s presence.

Craving resounding intimacy but with an ever aware of the polite boundaries for their situation, Coffey and Essex perform a slow dance as they grow closer to one another, and find themselves entangled.

The Strange Case of the Big Sur Benefactor by Jess Faraday (f/f and m/m)

Billiwack, California, 1884. When translator Rosetta Stein comes across her rival, Bartholomew Vincent, under attack by weird, raven-headed man-beasts behind the infamous Puckered Rosebud Gentleman’s Club, she senses opportunity. She rescues him in exchange for a crack at the commission he stole from under her nosea strangely inscribed artifact found by Big Sur bigwig George Taylor Granville in the Santa Lucia mountains. Misfortune has stalked Vincent from the moment he took on the project, and he’s only too happy to share it. In the meantime, a lady marshal has come to Billiwack, investigating rumors of strange, unlicensed weapons, and she can’t seem to decide if she’d rather kiss Rosetta or arrest her. And Vincent is suffering romantic complications of his own, in the forms of Rosetta’s charming layabout brother, and an amorous professor who won’t take God, no! for an answer.

The Harvest Moon by Joshua Ian (Darkly Enchanted Romance #1)

England, 1834. On the night of a harvest moon, in the shadows of late autumn, Malcolm comes across a quaint village tucked away in the forest. It seems the perfect spot for a weary traveller to lay his head, and maybe find a little company. But there is dark magic afoot, and lots of local gossip swirls around the seductive titian-haired weaver, Daniel. All Malcolm seeks is a night’s pleasure. He never suspected he would have to worry about losing his life. Or his heart.

The Ghost of Hillcomb Hall by Joshua Ian (Darkly Enchanted #2)

England, 1910. Landscape designer Jonas Laurence arrives at the cheerless and fog enswathed Hillcomb Hall, home to the Earl of Stanley and his family, to renovate their crumbling gardens. With a great storm crashing all around, his time is at the mercy of the house’s odd and mysterious occupants. Captivated by the hauntingly attractive portrait of Lord Stanley’s ancestor, which constantly seems to watch and taunt him, Jonas’s dreams become weird and distressing. And his waking moments are consumed by the strange stories and weird atmosphere of the manor estate. Ghostly visits in the night leave Jonas no choice but to accept his attraction to the otherworldly spirit from the painting. But is this affaire de coeur real? Or it all just a trick of the mind, a sinister game being played by the inhabitants of Hillcomb Hall?

Kinship and Kindness (Paranormal Society Romance Book One) by Kara Jorgensen (transmac MC)

Bennett Reynard needs one thing: to speak to the Rougarou about starting a union for shifters in New York City before the delegation arrives. When his dirigible finally lands in Louisiana, he finds the Rougarou is gone and in his stead is his handsome son, Theo, who seems to care for everyone but himself. Hoping he can still petition the Rougarou, Bennett stays only to find he is growing dangerously close to Theo Bisclavret.

Theo Bisclavret thought he had finally come to terms with never being able to take his father’s place as the Rougarou, but with his father stuck in England and a delegation of werewolves arriving in town, Theo’s quiet life is thrown into chaos as he and his sister take over his duties. Assuming his father’s place has salted old wounds, but when a stranger arrives offering to help, Theo knows he can’t say no, even if Mr. Reynard makes him long for things he had sworn off years ago.

As rivals arrive to challenge Theo for power and destroy the life Bennett has built, they know they must face their greatest fears or risk losing all they have fought for. With secrets threatening to topple their worlds, can Theo and Bennett let down their walls before it’s too late?

The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray (Stoker and Bash #3) Sing a song of sixpence A stage full of fright One two-faced blackbird Won’t last the night

When a phantom presence lures Hieronymus Bash into a deadly game, threatening to kill one of the players at his beloved Gaiety Theater each day until famed actor Horace Beastly returns to the stage, London’s premier consulting detective is on the case. The trouble? Horace Beastly is Hiero’s alter ego and the true object of this murderous obsession. When the current star of the show is struck down, Hiero has to risk everything by stealing back the spotlight.

After a golden summer together, DI Tim Stoker would do everything in his power to protect the man he loves. But a specter from his own past proves an unexpected, and perhaps fatal, distraction.

Scheming prima donnas, grudge-fuelled critics, and an axe-wielding theater ghost are all out for blood. Will Hiero and Tim unmask this menace before the final curtain call, or are they past the point of no return?

Secrets of Milan by Edale Lane (The Night Flyer Trilogy #2) (f/f)

Some secrets are meant to stay hidden.

While Florentina as the Night Flyer searches for a mysterious underworld organization that has attempted to murder the woman she loves, Maddie struggles to deal with the danger Florentina is courting. Her brother, Alessandro, has become the most prominent merchant of Milan, but the Night Flyer uncovers a secret so shocking it could destroy them all.

Secrets of Milan is the second book in Edale Lane’s Night Flyer Trilogy, a tale of power, passion, and payback in Renaissance Italy.

The Gentleman Attraction: a short victorian mm paranormal romance by Connor Peterson

Emerson Mallory never mixes business and pleasure. His eyes might wander but he certainly wouldn’t risk his professional reputation over a tryst. Not even for a silver-haired scoundrel who clearly knows his way around a bedroom and makes his heart race with just one look.

When a flirtatious train ride turns into a weekend in close quarters, Bennet Clarke doesn’t agree that it would be best to leave their attraction at the door. He gave up worrying about human sensibilities the night he became a vampire centuries ago, and right now he wants more than one taste of Emerson’s charm and unnerving ability to see past his cavalier masks.

Their host has a few secrets of their own and a madcap plan that requires Emerson to enlist Bennet’s help. When the inevitable happens, Emerson begins to think that maybe Bennet’s way of looking at things isn’t so bad. Bennet, however, is faced with a dilemma. Keep up the ruse, or confess that Emerson has no idea who he’s gotten involved with.

Amidst the flurry of activity surrounding their host, the two men will have to keep their affair secret, plan a successful party, and decide if forever is too much to ask.

The Faerie Hounds of York by Arden Powell

England, 1810. The north is governed by a single rule. Faerie will take as it pleases.

William Loxley is cursed. A pale and monstrous creature haunts his dreams, luring him from London to the desolate, grey landscape of his forgotten childhood. There, it will use him to open a door to Faerie—a fate that will trap Loxley in that glittering, heathen otherworld forever.

His only hope of escaping the creature’s grasp lies with John Thorncress, a dark and windswept stranger met on the moors. The longer Loxley stays in Thorncress’ company, the harder it becomes to fight his attraction to the man. Such attraction can only end in heartbreak—or the noose.

But Thorncress has his own bleak ties to Faerie. They come creeping in with the frost, their howls carrying on the winter wind. If Thorncress’ past catches up with him before they can break the curse, then Loxley will not only lose his soul. He’ll lose Thorncress, too.

Best Laid Plaids by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #1) 

Scotland, 1928 Dr. Ainsley Graham is cultivating a reputation as an eccentric. Two years ago, he catastrophically ended his academic career by publicly claiming to talk to ghosts. When Joachim Cockburn, a WWI veteran studying the power of delusional thinking, arrives at his door, Ainsley quickly catalogues him as yet another tiresome Englishman determined to mock his life’s work. But Joachim is tenacious and openhearted, and Ainsley’s intrigued despite himself. He agrees to motor his handsome new friend around to Scotland’s most unmistakable hauntings. If he can convince Joachim, Ainsley might be able to win back his good name and then some. He knows he’s not crazy—he just needs someone else to know it, too.

Joachim is one thesis away from realizing his dream of becoming a psychology professor, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, not even an enchanting ginger with a penchant for tartan and lewd jokes. But as the two travel across Scotland’s lovely—and definitely, definitely haunted—landscape, Joachim’s resolve starts to melt. And he’s beginning to think that an empty teaching post without the charming Dr. Graham would make a very poor consolation prize indeed…

Where There’s a Kilt, There’s a Way by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #2)

Sweden, 1930 Two years ago, Dr. Ainsley Graham proved the existence of ghosts, and fell in love–hard to top that. But a trip to Sweden to research at a prestigious University for the summer is nothing to sneeze at, especially since his partner, psychologist Joachim Cockburn, will be teaching alongside him. A change of scenery might be just the thing.

Their idyllic trip to Sweden is interrupted by a ghost with a proclivity for rude hand gestures and graphic curse words–and a ghastly history begging to be investigated. Life among the living is complicated, too, by a gruff professor who can’t take his eyes off Ainsley, and an enticing new job offer for Joachim. What starts as an adventurous trip abroad turns into mayhem, murder, and…a magical moose? And everyone–well, perhaps not the moose–is a suspect in the death of the ghostly young man who brings them

together to expose secrets, loves lost, and a crime that will shock them all. The Harp and the Sea by Lou Sylvre and Anne Barwell (Magic in the Isles #1) In 1605, Robbie Elliot—a Reiver and musician from the Scottish borders—nearly went to the gallows. The Witch of the Hermitage saved him with a ruse, but weeks later, she cursed him to an ethereal existence in the sea. He has seven chances to come alive, come ashore, and find true love. For over a century, Robbie’s been lost to that magic; six times love has failed. When he washes ashore on the Isle of Skye in 1745, he’s arrived at his last chance at love, his last chance at life.

Highland warrior Ian MacDonald came to Skye for loyalty and rebellion. He’s lost once at love, and stands as an outsider in his own clan. When Ian’s uncle and laird sends him to lonely Skye to hide and protect treasure meant for Bonnie Prince Charlie’s coffers, he resigns himself to a solitary life—his only companion the eternal sea. Lonely doldrums transform into romance and mystery when the tide brings beautiful Robbie Elliot and his broken harp ashore.

A curse dogs them, enemies hunt them, and war looms over their lives. Robbie and Ian will fight with love, will, and the sword. But without the help of magic and ancient gods, will it be enough to win them a future together?

Starcrossed by Allie Therin (Magic in Manhattan #2)

When everything they’ve built is threatened, only their bond remains… 1925 New York

Psychometric Rory Brodigan’s life hasn’t been the same since the day he met Arthur Kenzie. Arthur’s continued quest to contain supernatural relics that pose a threat to the world has captured Rory’s imagination—and his heart. But Arthur’s upper-class upbringing still leaves Rory worried that he’ll never measure up, especially when Arthur’s aristocratic ex arrives in New York. For Arthur, there’s only Rory. But keeping the man he’s fallen for safe is another matter altogether. When a group of ruthless paranormals throw the city into chaos, the two men’s strained relationship leaves Rory vulnerable to a monster from Arthur’s past.

With dark forces determined to tear them apart, Rory and Arthur will have to draw on every last bit of magic up their sleeves. And in the end, it’s the connection they’ve formed without magic that will be tested like never before.

Automata by Hayden Thorne (Curiosities #2)

A disastrous incident at a ball in St. Jude threatens to undo Alexej Sauveterre, and his protective adoptive family whisk him off to San Marco, a mythical and romantic city in the water. Born sickly, young Alexej has grown up resigned to the fact that only his family’s immense wealth makes him barely palatable to other gentlemen seeking partners.

The family’s sojourn in San Marco at first promises a much-needed distraction to Alexej when his older brother introduces him to an aristocratic inventor of automata as well as an old school friend who now tours the European continent as a classical pianist. Baseless hope and heartbreak, however, seem to follow Alexej everywhere.

Alexej’s fascination for automata and his hopeless infatuation with Briant Cousineau draw the attention of an entity from the otherworld, one that’s been wandering the globe for unwary souls to claim through cursed wishes. San Marco’s winged lion summons the city’s supernatural guardians in answer, and in the midst of glittering balls, magical clockwork puppets, and lonely dreams, a terrifying fight for Alexej’s soul darkens the streets of a fading city.

Extensive List from 2018 Even more for 2019

[dwellordream]

the best laid plans

day 1 for @wayhavensummer because this is the only prompt I'll have time to do this week!

T Rating (for one brief mention of sex and one brief reference to emotional abuse) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2300 words

The migraine cuts her to her core, and Esme can’t even manage the usual dose of guilt and hesitance she’d feel about canceling plans with Tina. They were supposed to go away this weekend, and Esme hasn’t been on a vacation since uni, but right now she couldn’t even make her way out of her flat, never mind into a car for a seven hour drive down the coast. 

She feels like vomiting, the pain is so intense, as if she’d been concussed. Migraines have been a constant for her since puberty; she has a vivid memory of her first one, when she was thirteen, and the long wait in the nurse’s office at the private school her mother paid so much money for. The same mother who eventually sent someone else to pick her up, ninety minutes after the first phone call. 

Esme doesn’t even remember who it was; some Agency intern? A vampire? A demon? Whoever it was, they brought her home, gave her some painkillers, and told her to sleep it off. She woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, to a still empty house. Rebecca had come home briefly to leave a note for her about some leftovers in the fridge and another one excusing her from school the next day if need be, and then gone straight back to work. 

Maybe Esme should have been outraged or hurt by this, but she doesn’t recall feeling much of anything at the time beyond hunger, when the pain had finally receded enough to think straight. She ate the leftovers cold in their sterile, silent kitchen, and put herself back to bed.

The migraines had intensified through high school, to the point where her mother considered putting her on permanent medication, before receding just before she went away to university. After that they were far more infrequent, which was both a blessing and a curse- it was easy to forget what the pain felt like, and to feel like it was weak, lazy of her to let it get the best of her. 

Bobby certainly didn’t help matters; the first one Esme had during their relationship came around shortly after they’d had sex for the first few times, and Bobby quickly became convinced this was her version of ‘not tonight, dear, I have a headache-’. That she was, for some ludicrous reason, exaggerating her migraines. 

If she didn’t want to have sex with him, she’d never had much of an issue saying as much, bluntly, clinically. Another thing he despaired of- her lack of social graces, her insistence on saying exactly what she meant, in her usual ‘ice queen’ manner. Now he had reason to call her frigid in more ways than one. 

Esme still isn’t sure how things between them ever lasted as long as seven torturous months. She assumes they both had a private masochistic streak- why else would two people who made one another so blatantly unhappy stay together? 

Bobby isn’t here now, of course, to whinge and moan about her ignoring him, but there’s still a little voice in her head telling her to get up and stop acting like a baby when the evening rolls around. The pain has greatly lessened, thankfully, and she’s hungry, which is usually a good sign, but she’s also exhausted and cranky and generally miserable, feeling as though an entire day was wasted, one she could have spent with her best friend, on her way to a vacation. 

Now, again, she is alone in a dark room. She slowly rolls over onto her side, bracing for a wave of pain or nausea, then pushes herself up onto her elbows and gropes at her night table for her phone. She has several missed calls and texts. Two from Tina, one from her mother, and one from Felix, which is the most recent, about thirty minutes ago. 

Felix H: omw over to drop stuff off. 30 min???

She checks the time, then jumps, almost bashing her head into the headboard, when she hears a quiet knock at her door. For a moment Esme considers lying back down and not answering it; Felix can be persistent but he would never try to break her door down, especially when he knows she’s ill. 

Then she clambers out of bed, some instinct driving her, a desperate kind of loneliness- for an instant tears spring to her eyes, as if she were a child again, terrified of being left alone, that she will just miss him, that she will pull open the door and he will already be gone-

“Ez?”

He’s right there when she yanks open the door, the chain still in place. Esme undoes it and pulls the door open all the way. Felix is staring at her, a small bag of groceries in hand. Vampires have far better temperature regulation than humans but it’s obvious he is feeling the heat; for once he’s not wearing a beanie or any kind of hat or cap at all. 

He’s gotten his hair braided recently; Esme looks at him for a moment, staggered by the fact, as always, that even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of her narrow hallway. Felix’s dark skin has a sheen all its own, magnified by his golden eyes. 

He prods her shoulder gently with the pad of his thumb. “If you faint on me, I’m gonna drop your gifts.”

“My gifts?” Esme shakes her head, leading the way back into her darkened flat. It’s much more cluttered than usual; she never finished packing for the trip she was supposed to take today. 

Felix does not reach for a light switch; he has perfect vision in the dark, and light from the parking lot is spilling through her blinds. Instead he sets the bag on her counter and sorts through it as enthusiastically as Santa Claus on Christmas, or a child sorting through their Halloween candy. 

“Min tea,” he says, “cold packs, squash, sweet potatoes, brown rice, dried cranberries…”

“Did you just look up ‘what to eat and drink for a migraine’?” Esme manages to ask, bemused. 

He looks up, a sheepish smile quirking at his soft lips. “If I say yes…”

“I’m impressed,” she says. “And.. thank you. Very much. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t have to supply my ailing girlfriend with nutritious food and drink?” he waves the bottle of mint teat in her face vigorously. 

“Ailing? I’m not eighty five years old, Felix.”

“That’s right, I’m the old man here,’ he cackles, then amends, “Or, will be. Technically we’re not that far apart in age but eventually when you start decaying-,”

“Decaying?” As usual, his word choice both horrifies and amuses her. 

Felix has even less of a filter than her, but with the opposite effect. She comes across as cold and controlling. He comes across as… well, ‘space cadet’ has been used a few times, but Esme likens it to a time traveler. Only, not from the past, and not quite from the future. A parallel visitor. Something out of the Twilight Zone, only… warm and colorful and eager to please. That’s Felix.

He shrugs. “Succumbing to the elements?”

“I’m not a castle,” she mutters, but pours herself a cup of cold mint tea. Will it be as good as if she’d brewed it herself here at home, no, but at the moment she doesn’t care. 

He puts the rest away in her small fridge while she drinks, leaving out the cranberries, then circles warily, as if approaching a wild animal, when she finishes off her cup. “Can I-,” his fingers ghost along the back of her neck. The hairs there raise and she shivers violently, but not in fear or pain. 

“Yes,” she murmurs, then leans back into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her. 

They scuttle over to the sofa like that, and ease down together. Felix is not terribly tall, and she is average height, so there’s scarcely a few inches between them. Esme has always liked that. All the others she’s been with had towered over her, and it made her feel spoilt and delicate in an undesirable, bratty kind of way, as if she were childish, some little princess to be coddled and indulged. Or maybe that’s just her projecting onto everything else that makes up a relationship besides height differences. 

For now, she is content to lie back so her head rests against Felix’s, cheek to cheek. His is silken smooth; she knows he is fastidious about shaving, the same as her. 

“You’re feeling better, though?” he murmurs, and snakes a hand under her pyjama top as if to check. Splayed warm against her belly, it tickles for an instant and she smiles. 

“Yes. It’s mostly passed. I’m just tired. And annoyed. Tina was really looking forward to this trip. She’ll still have fun by herself, but it was supposed to be the two of us, and I’m always canceling plans.”

“You are not,” says Felix, reasonably. “You’re just busy. And you couldn’t help it this time, you were sick. She knows that.”

Esme nods; for all his jokes and quips, Felix is always sensible in a manner that she finds comforting- stating the obvious isn’t such a bad thing when dealing with someone like her. 

“I hate being sick,” she murmurs, rolling onto her side so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her more securely, even intertwines their legs. Felix sleeps like this too, though at this point he’s only spent the night a few times. 

Esme is taking things as slowly as she dares, given all the other factors at play- her mother, their work, the rest of the team, the fact that he is a vampire from another dimension and she is the human equivalent of dry toast… 

“I kind of like it,” Felix confesses, with just enough lilt in his voice that she knows he’s half teasing.

Esme grumbles vengefully into his shirt. He smells like coconut butter and vanilla. She doesn’t know if that’s his aftershave or just the essence of Felix, refined to the purest degree. Sometimes he smells like cinnamon to her, or lavender and honeysuckle. 

Felix tolerates these assessments but likes to claim that it’s him producing some kind of super pheromones perfectly designed for luring in unsuspecting human prey. Or his girlfriend. Or both. 

Esme has not been anyone’s girlfriend in a long time. Years. It feels very strange. Before him, it’d been so long since she’d even touched anyone, besides Tina or her mother or shaking hands. That absence did not hurt Esme. But being with Felix is like an unexpected delight. Free dessert. Extra sprinkles on your sundae. Any number of juvenile metaphors she should be above, but isn’t. 

“You’re not going to ask why I like it?” He is winding his fingers through her hair, which she let down from its usual tight ponytail to ease the tension on her scalp.

“Because you like to mock me?” she ventures.

“No,” says Felix. “Because you would have gone away with Tina, and now I get to see you. And hold you.” He presses an astoundingly gentle kiss to her brow, like a feather.

Esme feels a queer stab of guilt. “I didn’t know you’d minded so much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says quickly. “I was happy for you to get away for once. I’m not going to third wheel you and your best friend.”

“I think the terms refers to the opposite-,”

“Hush hush,” he interrupts, which gets a giggle out of her. “But this is like… an unexpected delight.”

The back of her neck prickles. “Can you read minds?” she asks, half serious.

“Not yet,” he sounds smug. “I have great intuition.”

“Because you’re a vampire?”

“No, because I’m me,” he boasts. “Look at Ava’s intuition. Terrible.”

Esme laughs again. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“She’s always expecting the worse. And Nat swings in the other direction. Always wants to play nice and hug it out.”

“And Mason?” Esme teases, feeling energetic enough not to raise her head so her chin is on his chest. Their noses are almost touching.

“Eh… he’s alright,” Felix breathes, and then closes the gap with a kiss. 

Esme kisses him back, more passionately than she’d meant to, and only stops it when he starts to sit up so she is straddling his lap. 

“I don’t think I can…”

“Eat some cranberries?” He grins impishly and hands her the bag from the coffee table.

Esme smiles and bumps her forehead against his, something she did impulsively after their first kiss and which he never let her live down. 

“What are we, cats?” he says, on cue, but brushes his nose and lips down her cheek and onto her neck, as if to nuzzle her in turn. “Eat some fruit before your migraine comes back. Do you want me to put some of this stuff away?”

“No,” she says, pushing him back down on the sofa. “Just- stay with me, please?”

“Alright,” he agrees, amiable as ever, and reaches for the remote. “This can be like our vacation, yeah? The Felix and Esme Show. The Fezme Show-,”

“No,” she groans, but wriggles off him to curl up beside him instead, a handful of cranberries rising to her mouth as he flips through the channels.

He settles on an episode of Columbo. Felix hasn’t really seen much in the way of TV, and so reruns mean nothing to him. But it means everything to her. They keep the volume on very low, and he gets up at one point to open the windows more, even as the faint sounds of the parking lot outside drift in- the buzz of the lights, doors opening and closing, the crunch of gravel. 

Esme falls asleep sagging onto him, cranberries in her lap, mouth half open while Felix watches, riveted in the light of the screen, as the detective closes the case.

[lynelovespopculture]

A CAOS CHARACTER PROFILE: ZELDA SPELLMAN

Woman, witch, sister, aunt, mother figure, devoted daughter of night, midwife, teacher, lover, wife, and stepmother. These are all titles belonging to the head of the Spellman family. Zelda Phiona Spellman is also nothing if not a bunch of contradictions. Her cold, hard outer core hides a huge, warm heart.  She’s ambitious but will not take power not due to her. She may cook children in crazy dreams but while awake, she will do anything to keep them from harm.  So, what makes Zelda tick? It’s time to take an in-depth look at Sabrina’s beloved Aunt Z.

BACKGROUND

We are not sure where or even when Zelda was born. What is clear (well, pretty much) We can assume that Mr. & Mrs. Spellman or as Hilda affectionally calls them, Mum and Dad, were a happily married warlock and witch. Over time, they welcomed their 3 beloved children. (I’m very aware that I said 3. I didn’t forget about Ambrose’s parents. I read somewhere that Ambrose is only a distant cousin therefore his mother/father wouldn’t be a sibling to the other 3. I don’t know how true this is but it’s the only theory I found so until the show says otherwise, this is theory I’m going with.) We never get an exact answer of the children’s birth order, but we do know that the red-headed, blue-eyed Zelda was born before her sister, making her the eldest girl and possibly the oldest overall. Given how they treat Sabrina, I think it’s fair to say that Mr. and Mrs. Spellman are loving yet firm parents. Never favoring Edward over their daughters just because he’s a boy. Zelda was always proud of being a witch. She recalled being not being able to sleep for days before her dark baptism. Unlike Hilda and   Sabrina, Zelda had no doubts at all about joining the Church of Night. On the night of her 16th birthday, Zelda willingly knelt before a high priest and signed her name in the book of the beast.

SCHOOL DAYS AND YOUNG ADULTHOOD

With her baptism behind her, Zelda was enrolled in the Academy of Unseen Arts. At first, she had a ball; gaining a lot of long-lasting friendships and having lively debates about magic. However, as she rose to a senior student, Zelda found more and more doors being closed to her because she was a female student. One example of this is the vote for ‘top boy’ Edward got the vote when it was his time but Zelda? She was never even considered just because of her sex. This must have made Zelda, intelligent and a born leader, angry and frustrated. To cope with these kinds of unfairness, Zelda could have started to develop her harder outer shell, realizing her male teachers and students responded better to a cold fish rather than a crybaby. She also became somewhat of a mean girl.  Maybe Zelda figured if she was unable to be ‘top boy’, she would rule over the girls with fear as ‘top witch’. She oversaw harrowing (bullying) of other students but no one ever died on her watch. When Hilda got to the school, there could’ve been whispering among Zelda’s group that she would go soft on her little sister. This gossip only angered Zelda and pushed her to treat poor Hilda the worst of all. So bad, in fact, that even years later Hilda would recall her sister’s behavior as ruthless. At some point, the school got involved and contacts   Mr. and Mrs. Spellman. The Spellmans try to calm their youngest daughter and scolds their oldest. It’s here, alone with her parents, that Zelda admits to her inner pain. Explaining that the school gives Edward everything because he’s a boy, she feels her parents are overprotective over the sweet temper Hilda, and despite her perfect attendance in church and flawless grades, Zelda feels that she gets nothing. Her parents are not unfeeling to their daughter, but gender roles have never been questioned in the Church of Night so they’re not sure how to help their unhappy child. Despite her ruthlessness or perhaps because of it, more and more boys are attracted to the beautiful, teenage Zelda. None more than a young, powerful warlock named Faustus Blackwood. We are not sure about the age difference (if any) between Zelda and Faustus, so they are either students at the academy together or Zelda is a senior student while Faustus is a   young teacher. If it is a student/teacher thing then, of course, their relationship is forbidden so they are forced to meet in secret, and they get creative to be together.  Given their mutual glee at Lupercalia, it makes me think that they share a secret Lupercalia in the past. During Zelda’s senior year, Faustus was a teacher who was officially supervising the matching but he secretly using magic to guide Zelda to a warlock, who is gay and in on the plan. For the next 2 nights, Faustus with the gay warlock’s partner sneak into the woods, find Zelda and the warlock and go their separate ways. I like to think that this is when Zelda lost her virginity and after their nights together, the connection between Zelda and Faustus only deepened. Months after Lupercalia, Zelda graduated from the academy with full honors but soon returned to the school as a teacher.  Now that they’re both teachers, Zelda and Faustus can and do go public. As hard as Zelda falls for Faustus, I believe that Faustus falls even harder.

MOVING ON

At some point, the high priest of her childhood dies, and Edward gets the post of high priest and headmaster of the academy of unseen arts. It would be a lot of pressure on anyone and very likely that Edward asks his sister, Zelda, to stay at the school and be his support. She does and these are the times of power and glory for the Spellman family. Power that Zelda very much enjoys. However, after a few years and especially after the deaths of her parents, Zelda Spellman might feel like life is passing her by. Same town, same job, and same boyfriend.  She and Faustus have been together for years now but with no commitment. What Zelda doesn’t know is that   Faustus is dying to marry her, but Edward has forbidden the marriage. Somehow, Zelda is given the chance to train as a midwife, the same job that Hilda, who now lives in England, is training for. After some soul searching, Zelda tells her brother that she has decided to quit teaching and move to England to study with Hilda. Edward, who knows Faustus’s obsession with Zelda is only deepening, encouraged her to go. Zelda and Faustus part on good terms but inside, Faustus feels like he’s dying, Zelda’s leaving completely breaks his heart. Yet, he doesn’t blame her, he blames Edward. Once arriving in England, Hilda is thrilled to be with her sister again and Zelda meets little cousin Ambrose, who now lives with Hilda. It takes time, perhaps years, but Zelda and Ambrose form their own bond. For a while, the 3 live happily together. In addition to helping Hilda out with Ambrose, Zelda proves to quite a natural midwife, completing her training with ease. She even starts to date again. (She has dealt with her fair share of sex demons you know.) When Ambrose gets old enough to go to the academy, the sisters feel it’s time to go back to Greendale. Right before the move, Zelda is a little shook to learn about Faustus’s sudden marriage to Constance. Again, Zelda doesn’t know is that the marriage was forced on Faustus by Edward. Once back in Greendale, Zelda releasing how much she missed her own coven. Zelda becomes a renowned midwife, famous for never losing a baby. But the dark days are coming for the Spellmans. Ambrose was caught trying to blow up the Vatican and was placed under house arrest by the witch’s council. Ambrose must have felt awful for letting down the 2 women that he considers his own aunties. Hilda forgave Ambrose easily but his relationship with Zelda remains frosty. Then Edward dropped a bombshell. He was in love and planned to marry a mortal! Marrying a mortal is forbidden by the church of night for any warlock, let alone a high priest! Even if Edward is given special permission to marry Diana, Zelda faced a personal crisis. She’s devout; what she believes in, she believes in deeply. She is torn between the church’s teachings and wanting her brother to find happiness. Zelda may feel a  need to talk out her feelings but see how well Hilda and Diana get along,  talking with her sister is the wrong choice so she goes to an old friend, Faustus, who is happy just to be near her again. Yet unlike Blackwood, Zelda doesn’t hate mortals, she bares them no ill, she’s just doesn’t understand their world and it may even scare her, not that she would ever admit it. Over time, Zelda does see just how much Edward and Diana love each other and accepts the union. She goes with her siblings to meet Diana’s family, though it’s unclear of just how much they know and attends the wedding. To Diana’s family, this may seem like small gestures, but Edward and Hilda know how much Zelda’s support means and they love her for it.

FAMILY

To Zelda, only one thing matters more than her faith and that is her family. Losing Edward and Diana in that plane crash must have been a terrible shock and it changed the Spellman family forever. It certainly changes Zelda forever. We learn in the dream episode that Zelda’s greatest fear is losing Hilda forever which is completely understandable when you remember that they already lost their brother. The sister’s relationship also changes by Edward’s death. Sabrina is less than a year old when her parents died. Given Hilda and Ambrose’s close easy bond, Zelda might have been nervous to care for her niece, she didn’t need to fear. Even Diana’s ghost admitted that her daughter is well cared for by 2 mothers who adore her. Hilda is the one who wants Sabrina to be well-rounded by knowing her mortal side. Taking her to see a mall Santa when she young, making mortal friends, going to mortal schools and again, over time, Zelda accepts this as just part of Sabrina’s life. As Sabrina grows older, Hilda and Zelda become more a united parental unit. A perfect example of this is when Zelda and her niece get into a huge fight and Sabrina stings Zelda with, You’re not my Mother! And Hilda jumped in without a second thought. As this episode ends, Sabrina walks home, wounded and defeated, Zelda is waiting for her and Sabrina breaks down on the steps and Zelda comes down just to hold her. They’ll always love her, but Zelda is upset and disappointed when Sabrina flees her baptism. She feels like she is failing Edward because she knows this is Edward wants, Zelda was her brother’s witness when he signed Sabrina’s name. The ensuring trial must have been bittersweet for Zelda. Sabrina is accepted into the academy, but Hilda is cast out of the church for witnessing a catholic baptism. It’s only at the privacy of confession that Zelda tearfully admits that she feels like she’s failing. Under Edward’s rule, the Spellmans knew glory, under her, they’re a fallen family. As head of the family, Zelda feels that she should have all the answers, but she doesn’t know how to fix this. It’s also hard to pin down Zelda’s moral character. She tells Hilda, she feels bad about mistreating her when they were younger and clearly means it yet both sisters brush off the killings, (it’s probably like a form of bittering.) She uses magic on Mr. Kringle so he can’t hit Harvey. She is sweet and caring to Constance as a midwife but shows no guilt about having a passionate affair with the pregnant woman’s husband. Speaking of Constance, Zelda tries everything to save her during childbirth, but Constance dies anyway. However, Zelda has another problem. Not only is 1 twin a girl, not both boys as she told Faustus, but she’s the firstborn something Blackwood would never accept. So, Zelda hides the child with plans to raise the baby herself but soon realizes she’s not safe with the Spellmans either. Zelda’s motherly instincts kick in as she puts the little girl’s needs before her own wants. By season 2, with Sabrina busy with school and boyfriends, Hilda, a boyfriend, and a new job and with Ambrose no longer on house arrest, Zelda may feel like her family no longer needs her. Luckily, she’s not idle either. She’s back teaching full-time and she and Faustus are continuing their affair. When she tells Faustus that she’s the victim of gossip and asks to clarify their relationship now that Constance is dead. Faustus shows little concern and that’s when an annoyed Zelda breaks off their sexual affair. Knowing Faustus’s huge sexual appetite, Zelda knows she’s taking a risk. Blackwood could very easily find another woman who would willingly fulfill his needs (Shirley Jackson comes to mind.)  But Faustus has no intention of losing the love of his life again. He respects Zelda’s boundaries but as soon as they’re back on good terms, despite the short time since Constance’s death and the bitter memories of Edward’s disapproval, Faustus proposes and after considering, Zelda accepts. I know she says she only says yes for power and I don’t doubt that Zelda will enjoy the power that being the wife of a high priest will bring her.  There is much evidence in this show that Zelda loves Faustus. Going back to the dream episode, it clear that the dark lord and Faustus Blackwood are 1 in her mind and she’s devoted and attracted to him. One of her great fears is being rejected by him. Later, they kiss and she doesn’t back away. They make love and by the next day, she’s craving more of him. When Faustus admits that he likes whipping, it excites her. Zelda wants to be told that she’s more than sex to him and upset when she’s not reassured. Even after they’re engaged, the tarot card reading tells us that she feels a little guilty about hiding his daughter, unsure about what the right thing is and she afraid Faustus may cheat on her. After all, she was his mistress during his marriage to Constance. Zelda might even want this marriage for another reason; motherhood. Just by marrying Faustus, she becomes the stepmother of 3, Sabrina is getting older, could this former midwife long for a baby she won’t have to give up? On the wedding eve, the anti-pope is murdered. Zelda thinks it would be best to delay the wedding, but Faustus won’t hear it. Sabrina, Nick, and Ambrose   ruin the church wedding, but Zelda and Faustus successfully marry privately in his office. It’s a stressful honeymoon. It must be maddening to hear your new husband plot against your family and have to do nothing. Even after the spell is broken, Zelda returns, despite her husband’s growing madness, to protect her family, her stepchildren and the coven. She tried her best but gets caught and must flee before the mass murder.

THE FUTURE

We leave the Spellman family on a rather sad note. Blackwood is the run with his twins, there is no more dark lord and no one is exactly sure what comes next. Still, we know that Sabrina and the fright go to hell to save Nick while Prudence and Ambrose track down Blackwood. As for Zelda Spellman, a woman who has been sister to a high priest and wife to another, there will be no more supporting roles. She is ready to lead the coven as high priestess and the school’s headmistress. First, she and Hilda must help the coven heal. Then Zelda must decide on her own manifesto.  She will not put forth Edward’s rules blindly, but she will consider them. Zelda will count on those she trusts most, her family, to advise her.  She is not a great reformer as her brother was, so I really see her outlawing or taking away anything, but I do see her reworking some things, such as

-a bride on the eve of her wedding will not be taken by force. Instead, the bride and her attendant will be visited by the high priestess for a private audience and blessing.

-on feast of feasts, the queen will help prepare and serve an actual feast of food before taking her place of honor when the coven will sup together before attending mass in Freya’s name. No bloodshed of any kind!

-top boy shall hereby be known as the top student and shall be open to anyone who wants to run, regardless of gender except of course, for the outgoing top student.

Again, these are my ideas. I’m sure we’ll get tons of cool stuff once Part 3 drops on JAN 24TH 2020.

LIKE THIS? DID I MISS OR FORGET ANYTHING? WHAT CHARACTER SHALL I DO NEXT? LIKE, REBLOG AND COMMENT!!!!!!!!!

[deletingpoint]

destiel fic recs part 3

Part 1

Part 2

I’ve added heart to the ones i really-really love for perhaps personal reasons, but otherwise these are all beautiful fics and you won’t regret reading them! (same goes for my previous lists obvi :))

<10 k

The Secret Santa of Cubicle Land by followyourenergy  Castiel Novak has never loved the workplace Secret Santa tradition, but he loves watching his coworker (and his very straight, secret crush) Dean Winchester’s enthusiastic responses to his daily gifts. Dean is so enthusiastic that he declares he’s going to ask his Secret Santa on a date.

Dry in the Downpour by almaasi  Dean was in half a mind – nay, three-quarters of a mind – just to turn back, go home, make coffee, call in sick and watch wrestling and porn all day, when the rain stopped abruptly.

He glanced around in surprise, then looked up.

An umbrella. Someone had put an umbrella over him.

Adagio by noangelsinthegarrison 

<3 “His name’s Dean," Cas sighs, "And he’s really stupidly attractive, and when he dances, he feels it, you know? And it makes me feel like I know him, even though I don’t. He makes me feel like… like he’s dancing just for me.”Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Wow, you’re over-dramatic when you’re horny.”

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire  Cas settles back and rolls his head on the seat. Tugs on the corner of Dean’s jacket.

Sits there. Pathetic-looking and unnecessarily bleeding.

(a.k.a.: Dean is a super Soft Boy.)

The Age-long Rivalry Between Pilots and Engineers by Winglesss <3 Living on a space station isn´t easy. Especially when you share your quarters with someone like Castiel Novak. 

Irresistible by raths_kitten

<3 Castiel is a lonely wizard longing for a familiar to bond with. Dean just really wants a taste of this pie that’s luring him in somehow. 

so this is the miracle by deanniker He doesn't believe in magic, or fairytales, or happy endings. If someone were to ask his opinion, he'd say that the ball is nothing more than a clever stunt, something meant to drum up popular support for the new king, that would inevitably come to naught when he married some foreign princess.

No one asks him his opinion, of course.

10-50 k

A Brief Glimpse by cloudyjenn  Castiel is utterly convinced he can't love anyone, but Sam, so when a strange occurrence at a carnival shows him otherwise, he doesn't know what to do. 

Unholy Ground by teacass (Fushigi)  “And I’m not a vandal,” the man shoots back. “My name’s Dean. And I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No,” Castiel hisses. “I have watched you. I have seen you creep around with your shovel and your gun and I have seen you trying to desecrate the graves, my graves, so do not talk to me about a misunderstanding—” Dean holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Shit, man, I swear I’m not trying to—” Castiel has had enough, though, so he flicks his wrist and pushes Dean over one of the tombstones and down to the ground. Dean falls with a grunt and tries to stand up quickly, but Castiel keeps him pinned to the ground with a raise of his eyebrow. “I am the guardian of this cemetery,” he states when he stops and looks down on the struggling man. “I will not be made a fool of, especially not by someone like you.” 

Chili Peppers by justanothersong for literaryoblivion  Dr. Winchester hears an off hand comment from one of his students and find himself browsing a website dedicated to rating university professors. He's not surprised by his rating -- but is a little miffed to see the department chair has an even better one. Clearly, something needs to be done about this. 

The Choice by RedheadedSuperhero  To solidify the alliance between the Houses of Veenah and Winchester, Castiel agrees to marry one of Lord John’s sons. It’s not like he has any say in that matter anyway – as a marriage of convenience is the fate of almost any royal omega. He is even grateful that the king of Winchester had offered him to make his own choice between his three children. From all he had heard, Castiel already likes the scholar Samuel from afar; he certainly prefers him to the infamous Demon Knight or Adam, who is hardly more than a pup. So, he believes his decision is already made as he travels towards his new home.

But unfortunately, things go horribly wrong, and Castiel finds himself alone in an unclaimed forest, with only a strange hunter to help him find his way the castle of Winchester. And by the time he arrives, he might have already changed his mind.

Don't Be So Charming by PieDarling  - Very loosely based on the movie “Prince Charming” -

Prince Dean was always meant to be fortunate, all the fairies and witches in the kingdom of his father would shower him with gifts. However, one of them had a deep darkness in her heart and out of selfishness cursed him instead, condemning him to have everyone fall under his charm and never know true love. His only hope is to break the curse before his 21st birthday.

At first, Dean is lost. How can he fall in love when everyone he meets falls under his charm? He finds hope in a magic coin his mother left him and in search of that hope he sets out on a journey with his childhood friend, Castiel, as his companion. Castiel is the only person Dean has ever met to not be affected by his curse, he trusts him more than anyone else.

Manifest Destiny by KreweOfImp  The year is 1899. The Wild West is in its dying days—but don’t tell that to the outlaws of Eastern Kansas. The gangs are Winchester and Novak, and the feud is bitter and blood-soaked.

The families were friendly once upon on a time, but that time is long gone, and when Michael Novak, the second-in-command to the Novaks, sees the opportunity to have Dean, golden boy and heir apparent to the Winchester gang at his mercy, he takes it. They have history, Michael and Dean, and he’s been waiting on this opportunity for a long time.

What Michael didn’t bank on was that his cousin Castiel, the Novak gang’s resident scapegoat and outcast, would have some sympathy for the prisoner—let alone start to like him.

Eyes Like Knives by jennyfly for palominopup  When rockstar Dean Winchester comes home to Austin to play a stop on his sold-out tour, he's surprised after the encore by a hot cop barging backstage to deliver some awful news. Not only is Detective Castiel Novak the bearer of bad news, but he also wants to question Dean's estranged brother, Sam. Can a frantic police investigation over the course of a single weekend result in a lasting romance? Hey, this is fanfiction; why not? 

Knocking on Heaven's Door by sir_kingsley  Dean Winchester left Castiel Novak in pieces when he broke off their engagement 21 days before they were supposed to get married. Now, a year later, Castiel has put himself back together and is moving on with his life and he seems to be doing okay. Until Dean comes knocking on his door at ass-o'clock in the morning. Now Cas must come to terms with the mess of a man who broke his heart but somehow still... has it. 

Shadow and Storm by zaphodsgirl  One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Such Familiar Magic by saltnhalo  When solitary witch Castiel finds an injured dog unconscious in his garden, he takes it in. He's expecting to heal it, look after it for a few days, then perhaps return it to its owners.

He's not expecting it to be one of the strongest familiars he's ever met.

The Greatest International Love Story the World Has Ever Seen by MalMuses  Dean wasn’t the type of person who did this kind of thing. He just wasn’t. GISH?? Ugh. The whole thing was just further proof that Dean would do anything his brother wanted him to do. Why else would he be in a Stormtrooper costume, calling up his ex-girlfriend for a private yoga class? Had he been stuck in a rut that long? Given that he’d been pining for the same freakin’ guy, his professor and coworker no less, for three long years… maybe.

Cas was definitely the type of person who did this kind of thing, not that many people knew that. He was one of the most well-respected professors at KSU. His students and coworkers didn’t need to know that he was captain of a GISH team, or that he knitted kinky accessories and made art with his online friends. His TA certainly didn’t need to know either. Just professionalism, of course. Nothing at all to do with the failed attempt at a relationship, three years of pining, and frequent inappropriate daydreams.

A two-person love triangle with online friendships, costumes, and a lot of glitter.

Scintilla by WinchestersRaven  Dean Winchester: ghost hunter extraordinaire! Call now for all your paranormal needs!

He cringes at the flyer. It's tacky and cliche, but Sam insisted it would bring in more customers. And dammit, if he wasn't right--this new case sounds like a doozy.

Dean’s a medium with a unique gift of being an empath. Seeing and speaking with the dead is as normal to him as speaking with his brother, Sam. A new job leads him to Georgia, Castiel Novak, and a historical home that’s tucked away on a mountain. As he investigates, he not only uncovers the secrets of his client’s family but also one of his own that he may not recover from. One that has the potential to destroy the budding relationship that is quickly forming between him and Castiel. Will they make it through to see the light on the other side? Or will the darkness that surrounds the home claim them as its next victims?

If At First You Don't Succeed (Destroy All Evidence That You Ever Tried) byjustkeeponwriting “Three days, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You’re not going to call her tomorrow and scare her off, like you always do! Or worse, tonight! That has ‘creeper’ written all over it.”Or, the one where Dean pretends to be a woman who likes to text Cas in order to teach him a lesson, and finds that he’s way in over his head. (Inspired by How I Met Your Mother's episode 4x21, "The Three Days Rule".)

Pineapple on Pizza by HigherMagic In a world where everyone is colorblind until meeting their soulmate, Castiel suddenly sees color during one of his concerts.

Lois Lane Never Had it So Hard by FunnyWings <3 It started with the most humiliating picture of Dean Winchester's life and just snowballed from there.When a sinister new big bad moves into Lawrence Kansas, will the local heroes (and maybe a few villains) be able to band together and save their home?

Get a Whiff of This by bendingsignpost <3 When no good deed goes unpunished, Dean ends up sentenced to community service for physically defending another Omega at his job. That is, at his former job. It's all a steaming pile of shit, and that's exactly what he has to clean up at the joint animal shelter and clinic he's been assigned to.With a face full of allergies and a horrific mood, all Dean has to do is get through six weeks of this sinus-assaulting torture. That's not so easy with a smartass Alpha receptionist, but at least the weird Beta vet might just end up being kinda cool.

Dean Winchester is Not Afraid of Ghosts by Desirae When photographer Dean Winchester is not capturing momentous occasions like weddings and graduations with his Nikon, he is moonlighting as the cameraman for the South Shore Paranormal; a ghost hunting series on YouTube, headed by his brother Sam, and Sam's best friend Gabriel.Despite his brother's adamance, Dean Winchester does not believe in ghosts. And no one is going to change his mind. Certainly not a scam artist like Castiel Novak. Castiel is a self-proclaimed medium... and Gabriel's brother. When a member of the SSP team has to leave the crew, Castiel is the replacement, much to Dean's dismay. But the more they work together, the more Dean is drawn to Castiel, the man stirring up protective instincts usually only reserved for family.What happens when Dean realizes that Castiel is not the fake he always thought he was, but instead, a generous soul that Dean is rapidly falling in love with?

Looking For Group by athaclena  Dean Winchester is in love with his best friend, a man he has never met, who goes by the handle AngelofThursday. Problem is, Thursday values his privacy and refuses to meet. Dean buries himself in his work at his bakery Slice of Pi and in computer games, desperately trying to move on from a man he can never have.

James Novak has problems of his own. Trying to cling onto what sense of security he can, he drifts around the city from café to coffee-shop to bar, using their wi-fi to keep his online footprint anonymous. He falls in lust with The Beautiful Man at his favourite coffee-shop, Study/Break, and turns to his best friend The_Michaelsword for advice.

A two-person love triangle for the digital age.

Time Still Exists by starespressos Castiel Novak has dreamed of participating in a theater dancing project forever. When a spot opens at Rowena MacLeod's theater, he jumps right in -- even though it means taking over from someone who has recently passed away. Soon enough, he meets Dean, who spends almost as much time at the theater as Castiel does but refuses to share any details about himself. Castiel is intrigued by him, and not only because Dean is the first person in a long time to treat him with anything less than admiration. As their friendship and the mystery around Dean deepen over time, Castiel’s perception of both himself and the universe is changed forever. 

Falling Through The Ice by athaclena for JupiterJames  Dean's finally retired from the Dallas Stars, and he's back at his original home ice-rink for a publicity stunt for his autobiography. Problem is, he has to do something that terrifies him. Second problem is, he has to do it in front of the man he was best friends with as a kid, until the ice cracked under him and he was left on the wrong side of an increasingly large chasm.

A story about smashing expectations (and some pumpkins), what it means to be brave, and how to follow your heart. Also, smut.

Genie in a Bottle by thepopeisdope

<3 When Dean finds (okay, steals) a bottle containing a strange, glowing blue substance, he does so thinking it's a cool novelty, at best. It didn't exactly cross his mind that the substance might be a living being, let alone a grumpy, sarcastic, perpetually-underdressed genie waiting for a new master. But now that he has a bona fide genie at his disposal, well-what better chance will he have to help things along with Lisa?

Except, things don't always go as expected, relationships are complicated, magic is never the solution, and sometimes the person you want isn't the person you need.

Between the Lines by JhanaMay Environmental rights activist Castiel Novak may not have grown up on the Plains, but he has thrown himself into protecting and conserving South Dakota’s natural treasures as if he was a native. When Dean Winchester, Hollywood’s modern day John Wayne, comes to South Dakota to film his next movie, Cas is more focused on preventing the environmental damage Dean’s movies cause than hoping for a chance to meet him. After Cas makes some negative comments on social media about the actor’s authenticity as a cowboy, he is invited to spend a week alone with the star, roughing it in the wilderness. Cas sets out to prove exactly how fake Dean Winchester really is, but he isn’t expecting to find out that Dean is a troubled man running from a past that is just as difficult as his own.

50-100 k

so bitter and so sweet by superhoney  Dean has known about the family curse ever since it claimed the life of his mother: anyone who dares to love a Winchester is fated to die. When he takes a chance on love and loses his husband Benny, his belief in its power only grows stronger.

Two years later, a late-night phone call from his brother Sam sends both of their lives spinning wildly out of control. Then Officer Cas Novak arrives in town, looking into the disappearance of Sam’s girlfriend Ruby, and starts asking questions Sam and Dean can’t answer. Complicating matters even further, Dean feels an immediate, overwhelming connection to the intense, blue-eyed source of their problems.

Dealing with all the secrets, the lies, and a brother slowly crumbling under the weight of his guilt doesn’t leave much time for romance, but as Cas gets closer to the truth, he also gets closer to Dean.

Will you be my ten inch hero? by NotfunnyDean (IronEyes) When John Winchester kicks Dean out, after he saw him kissing another boy, and Dean sees that Sam has a perfect life at Stanford without him, Dean starts a new life in Santa Cruz. He works at a tiny shop as a cook, has found some friends there, and is overall happy enough. That changes when Castiel comes into his shop and his Co-worker Azara, who has a different man every night, starts flirting with him right in front of Dean. Not that he would be jealous or anything, but there is something about Castiel that makes him weak in the knees. Only that Castiel would never want him back, right?

Reality of Dreams by sternchencas for my sister  Dean Winchester has been living a boring life. At least until his brother is missing, the police think he has something to do with it, and a group of people who call themselves 'Liberi Somniorum' and live in an underground bunker ask him to join them so they can teach him how to use his dreaming abilities. As if that isn't bad enough, the police also took his car and then there's this guy in a trenchcoat who's guarding him, and some dark secret. Dean does his best to convince himself it's a dream. But somehow, sometimes, dreams can be very real, and this time, he just can't wake up. 

Green Corners by rustling_pages

<3 After the death of his son, there is nothing left for Dean other than his garden market. His days are tough, the nights are tougher, but at least there's a reason to get up in the morning. And with the new boom on do-it-yourself garden magic, his business is going okay.

Amidst the passing of time, there is only one thing that distracts him from functioning like a normal human being: Diagonally across the street, in the display window of that traditional Herb and Potion shop, plants are dying in masses.

Storming in to confront the owner goes differently than he imagined, though. Castiel Novak may be the kind of guy who wears old-fashioned mage robes and keeps his shop in sweltering heat, but he's also a talented herbalist, the kindest soul Dean has ever met, and utterly beautiful.

Not that Dean is ready for anything other than friendship.

(Not that Cas doesn’t get sick a bit too often.)

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets <3 Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

Turn the World to Gold by superhoney, teacass (Fushigi)

<3 Just as Dean is starting to get comfortable at his new mining job in Nevada, the site is shaken by the announcement of a six-week visit from a team of consultants hired to make changes to the practices and procedures of the mine. Among that team is Castiel Novak, one of the most coolly infuriating, stuck-up, unfairly attractive men Dean has ever met.

The friction between them comes to a head during an unexpected but scorching hot makeout session at a company picnic, and they soon fall into a pattern of hooking up at the site or after work at Castiel’s hotel. But it’s just sex, or so they keep telling themselves. Castiel is only in Nevada for six weeks. They’ll have their fun, and then it’ll be over. But as those six weeks go by and they gradually get to know each other, both of them find themselves wondering if there might be a chance it could become something more.

Where the Lightning Splits the Sea by thepopeisdope Seattle’s hero never fails to live up to his given nickname. Like an angel, he appears when he’s needed most, a miracle when none is expected; he gets in quick, then gets out quicker, and like the angel he is, he goes off to perform his miracles elsewhere, often without any link between one miracle and the next, aside from the fact that he shows up when someone needs help.That’s how Dean met him, after all. The Angel is the only reason he’s alive.And that’s also why Dean is more than a little bit in love with him.But when the Angel is suddenly defeated, Dean’s world turns on its head. His city is in a vacuum, heroless for the first time in years, and to make Dean’s life even harder, his roommate has turned quiet, withdrawn. Dean doesn’t know what happened to make Cas’ mood swing so drastically, but he wants nothing more than to see him happy again. Dean owes the Angel a debt. Choosing between the two isn’t an easy thing to do.When the Hunter is born, the balance becomes nearly impossible to keep up.

Pining Sickness; Or, Murder With One Stone by athaclena, iraeim New York, 1895. The rigid customs of the old century are beginning to fall away, allowing access to the professions for more people than just Omega men and Alpha women. Dean Winchester, the city’s first Alpha male Detective, uncovers evidence that a mysterious new illness killing mated couples might have its origins is the criminal rather than the medical.Castiel Novak is a respectable Omega doctor who has started to see patients dying cruelly of something he cannot cure or even effectively treat. Approached by the Detective to once again give his medical expertise, he is eager to work towards finding a cause and, he hopes, a cure for the unfortunate sufferers. But both men harbour a secret attraction towards the other, and the quest for the truth will stretch their relationship beyond its limits.A historical murder mystery set against a backdrop of a non-traditional Omegaverse.

Silver and Cold by superhoney The death of a young man in an apparent animal attack brings hunter Cas Novak to the small town of Sydnam, Maine. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s tracking a werewolf, but discovering the killer’s identity is no easy task. All signs point towards Dean Winchester, a lonely recluse who lives in the middle of the woods and whose antagonistic behaviour does little to lessen Cas’ suspicions.As the investigation drags on, their mutual distrust gives way to a wary alliance. Cas’ instincts warn him that Dean is hiding something, but as he uncovers the man beneath the mystery, his professional interest becomes far more personal. Praying his faith in Dean isn’t misplaced, Cas races to catch the killer before the next full moon rises and another life is abruptly cut short.

The Horse-King by cloud_wolfbane, opal_bullets  When orphans Sam and Dean Winchester get jobs in Horsetown, they figure that being stable boys is just their lot in life. But when King Metatron takes a peculiar liking to an even more peculiar horse they find themselves in the middle of an intrigue they barely understand, leading to an adventure full of magic and mystery, faith and betrayal, and maybe - if they survive it - love. 

In Some Sacred Place by Hellosaidthemoon, schmerzerling  Dean has cystic fibrosis, a brutal respiratory disease that means he can’t cut it in the life his father chose for him, despite his very best efforts. He also has a give ‘em hell attitude and a dogged crush on his childhood best friend. Castiel has an absent father, a stellar GPA, a comprehensive ten-year plan, and—a lot of reservations about all this. 

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche) Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

100+ k

The Brave and the Bold by manifestingwings  In a world where dragons reign over the mountains and terror looms in the streets of the city of Lavendel, Dean Winchester never expected his main problem to be a surly thief with eyes like the sea and a rare smile. As Captain of the Guard, he knows he has to arrest him for his crimes, but there may be bigger things at stake… 

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)  As a hunter Dean finds himself more often than not relying on the help of the Men of Letters. Most of the time that's not much of a problem - if it wasn't for Castiel, the smartass bookworm with the piercing blue eyes, the messy hair and the rude attitude.

He's been an annoying thorn in Dean's side since day one - and the hunter doesn't see that change anytime soon!

Everyone's a Critic by Englandwouldfall  The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

Dreaming in Digital by Ltleflrt for jupiter_james  Set in a Cyberpunk world where global warming and climate change has driven most of the human population into domed cities, Sam and Dean hunt rogue tech and science experiments gone wrong in the shadows, protecting the lives of those the government doesn't care about anymore. On a trip to the dump to scavenge for valuables Dean finds Castiel, an Angel Industries sex bot, which is worth his weight in credits. But when he turns the sex bot on, he learns that Castiel is sentient.

Artificial Intelligence is illegal, and for good reason, but Cas doesn't put off dangerous vibes. That doesn't stop Sam from researching his creators while Dean's off making friends with the android. If there's someone out there creating a robot army unconstrained by the 3 rules of robotics, Sam's going to make sure the operation is shut down for good.

Castiel just wants to exist. He wants to read and work in the Winchester's greenhouse and have movie nights with Dean. But he also wants to understand. Himself. His unexpected reaction to Dean. What it it means to feel.

A Graced Kingdom by angvlicmish

<3 this is a wip but i can’t not add it!!! Ten years ago, the Northern Continent was at peace, angels and humans living side by side until the human King Winchester of Torrin waged war against the angels in an attempt to wipe them out - an attempt that almost succeeded. However, to this day some angels still remain in hiding and with an unpredictable turn of events one of them finds himself as the personal guard to King Winchester’s firstborn son, Prince Dean. With a strange ability no angel has had before - to hide his own wings - no one knows that they have just let their greatest enemy into the heart of their kingdom.

Alone and struggling to deal with being surrounded by the ones who slaughtered his people, Castiel comes head to head with the Crown Prince. But what he finds within the man is not what he expected and they soon become each other’s only comfort.

Will Dean be the strength Castiel needs to pull through or will he be the weakness that will tear everything to pieces?

[aokozaki]

9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors Tarot Analysis.

One of 999′s greatest strengths will always be its character writing, imo. It’s able to take these seemingly stereotypical characters, and through various late-game scenes focusing on them, subvert a lot of the stereotypes! Of course, being a huge fan of Persona, whenever I try to think about or analyse multifaceted character archetypes, my mind immediately turns to the Major Tarot Arcana.

With that said, I think that it gives a really interesting look at each character if you consider their personalities boiled down to an Arcana, then look at how that reflects them in the Upright, and Inverse positions (remember, the characters in 999 often seem one way before revealing a hidden side).

(For context, the Upright card represents, usually, the positive aspects of an arcana, while the Inverse represents the negative traits. With that in mind, let’s begin). 

The Magician archetype is that of an opportunist and a showman, not so much a "master of the arcane" as a "master of sleight of hand". However, the reversed Magician can be manipulative, condescending, delusional, emotionally abusive, and sometimes unlucky. 

Number I - The Magician - Junpei

While it’s often tempting to make the protagonist of a story, I think Junpei fits the Magician far better. Junpei is above all else, a “guile hero”, as TV Tropes would put it. He knows probably the least out of the cast the events of 9 Years Ago, yet as the protagonist is the one to uncover it all.

There’s also the scenes where he chooses Door 3, or rigs the 1/2/6 Vote in his favor, or manages to outsmart Ace. Even with very little resources at his disposal, Junpei manages to turn things around magnificently, a textbook Magician move.

However, Junpei’s more negative traits are also embodied by the Magician. He’s most certainly manipulative, as his choice of Door 3 can show, he also tends to run his mouth sometimes, and has generally poor luck (at least in the bad endings).

The Priestess symbolizes wisdom and mental fortitude. Common positive traits include being highly intelligent, wise, and patient, along with having plenty of hidden potential within them. On the flipside, one under the Priestess Arcana may be calculating, have ulterior motives in mind, have frail emotions, or can come off as pitiable and weak in their passivity.

Number II - The High Priestess - Akane

If you’ve read that description and played through 999, you’ll most likely agree that it all fits Akane fairly well. As another bonus, the Magician and Priestess are sort of “foils” to each-other, representing similar ideas in a masculine and feminine ideal.

Akane is a veritable font of trivia about pseudoscience (or, in the world of 999, actual science), and comes across, at least for the most part, as fairly calm. She shows wisdom and patience in her desire to leave nobody behind.

However, on the flipside, Akane has incredibly obvious ulterior motives for almost every action she takes in the game, and even before this is revealed, shows a great deal of frailty and passivity through her fevers.

The Empress represents maturity, elegance, and also strongly embodies the archetype of motherhood, maternal feelings and instincts. Reversed, the Empress may find it difficult to cooperate with others. They may infantilize their peers in their pursual of leadership, making it difficult to truly connect with or understand them in the process of “mothering” them.

Number III - The Empress - Lotus

Lotus is pretty much the Team Mum of the 999 crew, and The Empress Arcana really fits her in that respect. However, unlike Junpei and Akane, (and as a part of 999′s habit of building unlikable characters only to reveal their softer sides), Lotus arguably shows her Inverse aspects before revealing her more positive side.

To begin with, Lotus is hardly a team player. She constantly brings up the need to sacrifice at least 4 people once they reach the 9 Door, and can be flippant to the point of seeming uncaring. In terms of “infantizing”, this is a more lose connection, but she does tend to ramble off stories about telepathy that she doesn’t really believe herself.

However, her softer side solidifies herself as the Team Mum of 999′s cast. She’s also the only character confirmed to have children, which plays into her backstory heavily and gives her an edge of maternal instincts. Furthermore, it’s revealed she’d be willing to be one of the 4 people sacrificed, totally changing the tone of her reminders.

The Chariot Arcana is a very broad one, gender-neutral. It symbolizes pride, control, and goals. A person under the Chariot are usually very extroverted, have a strong sense of will, and are resolute-- striving for an ultimate goal that they desire. But on the negative side of things, they can be extremely aggressive and unpredictable, and often reckless and insecure.

Number VII - The Chariot - Clover

Clover starts the game in an upright state, but when Snake goes missing, reveals the negative inverse side of her arcana. However, Snake coming back for the endgame is enough to push her back into her positive aspects.

Clover fits the terms of the upright Chariot to a tee, being extroverted with a strong sense of will. Her ultimate goal is usually as simple as defending the people who matter to her. On the other hand, when displaying more negative traits, Clover swings wildly between the extremes of heartbroken silence and reckless rage.

Overall, there’s almost not much to say in regards to Clover and the Chariot, seeing as she fits it so well that the blurb seems to do most of the job for you.

The Justice Arcana is one that symbolizes morality, fairness, and truth. A very dynamic card, the positive sides of the Justice Arcana include being truthful, analytical, rational, and fair. But the negatives are violent, one under the Justice may seek vigilantism and vengeance, or are rather dishonest and unhappy with themselves.

Number VIII - Justice - Santa

Santa is an enigma for most of the game, not revealing much of his arcana at all. However, it’s quickly established he’s dealing with a lot of personal demons, and is very much hiding something. This establishes him as someone who begins the game representing the inverse Justice arcana.

Come time for the True Ending, during the moments when it seems like he’s the sole mastermind behind the Nonary Game, he exceedingly represents the inverse Justice. He’s violent and seems to be behind the vigilante killings of the Cradle Pharmaceutical members, all in the name of revenge. 

Though this is all a facade, and he happily explains the truth behind the Nonary Game once this facade breaks. Further (much like how Ace put it 9 Years Ago), there was always a fair chance to escape, and during the Safe Ending, it’s implied Santa returned everyone to their normal lives. Santa is fair to the point of only being an assistant to the real mastermind.

The Hermit Arcana, one that symbolizes self-searching and guidance. They are often very positive and introspective-- nearly to the point of being almost philisophical in nature. They often give someone guidance when needed. But at the same time, they are also very lost themselves. They don't know "where" they are, or what they're doing, making them rather isolated and alone.

Number IX - The Hermit - Snake

Snake is a very on-the-nose application of the Hermit arcana. With his blindness, he is in some sense “lost”. However, this is misleading, and as a part of subverting character archetypes, Snake shows that his other senses more than make up for his lack of sight.

Otherwise, Snake fits the upright aspect of his arcana very closely, fitting for a character the narrative wants you to sympathize with after his “death”. Snake is very knowledgeable, and often comes across as the most level-headed member of the group.

However, in another interpretation of being “lost”, Snake spends most of the game locked away, in another form of darkness. In a less literal form, he also loses his head when placed under extreme stress (such as learning of the loss of Clover), subverting his wise level-headedness.

The Strength Arcana, represents discipline and simple honest to goodness strength. The Strength is shown by courage, self-control, patience, and honesty. But deep inside, it also shows a lack of integrity, will, control, and actual power.

Number XI - Strength - Seven

Unlike a lot of other characters, Seven mainly represents himself through the upright meaning of his arcana, Strength. While the arcana at first seems far too on-the-nose, the concepts of “courage, self-control, patience, and honesty” are all very core to his character as a Detective.

Other than that, Seven does display some negative aspects at first too, with his amnesia making him seem more suspicious than he is, and making him prone to hesitate. This could be described as a seeming lack of integrity and any actual power.

Befitting “self-control” however, Seven is generally who he appears to be, with any suspicion from Junpei being undue on his part.

Mostly a somewhat negative or unpleasant Arcana. The Devil symbolizes addiction, lust, and a will to gain. The Devil is one about seeking something, or being tempted. This may include finding more power or letting their impulses control them, to simple greed and arrogance.

Number XV - The Devil - Ace

Much like how many characters in this game begin in the inverse interpretation of their arcana, only to reveal the upright side, Ace surprisingly follows this pattern. The Devil Arcana is a more negative card, so its inverse position represents a positive state of mind.

Quite often, Ace insists that everyone should trust each other, and, importantly, not to give into temptation to Zero’s traps. Ace insists that everyone should stick together, and overall he puts out an air of level-headedness.

However, once his facade drops, Ace is revealed to be the most temptation-driven member of the cast. 9 Years Ago, Ace wished for the ability to see faces so much that he orchestrated a deadly experiment that put the events of the entire game in motion. You can’t get much more driven by temptation than almost killing children.

The 21st card in the Major Arcana, Judgement depicts absolution and realization. At best, Judgement represents a person who has found their calling in life, and is on their way to their true calling. But at worst, this also depicts a person who is in doubt-- unsure if the path that they're going on is the right one at all, leading to self-unawareness.

Number XX - Judgement - The 9th Man

Out of the four Cradle Pharmaceutical members, the 9th Man is the most clearly anxious, leading to an interpretation of being unsure over the ethics of his actions. Even if this is not the case, his anxiety during the second Nonary Game very much impairs his self-awareness, leading to his death.

Another interpretation of what the Judgement card means (in this case referring to an event rather than a person) can be the appearance of consequences from a long time ago. Considering he designed the system which eventually kills him, his death can be considered quite karmic.

Otherwise, the 9th Man doesn’t have much else to him, dying quite early on, before his character had a chance to shine. Despite this, his death is still relevant, as it’s the first example of Zero’s “judgement” of Cradle coming into effect.

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE Review: Ghost Rider vs. Lobo

Two badass bikers have one hell of a fight!

Ghost Rider′s Preview.

If one were to take a look at Johnny Blaze, you wouldn’t really expect much out of the son of a famous stuntman who had died in a stunt gone wrong. But, you’d be surprised. Johnny’s new dad, Crash Simpson, got cancer.

So Johnny turned to the one man who could fix the problem: The Devil.

It worked… Until Crash crashed.

From that day forward, Johnny became merged with Zarathos. A being of power that scared Mephisto. And together, they became: Ghost Rider.

Ghost Rider possesses your typical powerset for a bounty hunter for the devil. From your typical Superhuman strength and speed, with a side of insane durability and an extra large healing factor.

And to top it all off, Ghost Rider’s signature weapon of choice is fire. But not just any kind of fire. Hellfire (Insert Hunchback of Notre Dame reference here).

Hellfire burns, but not in the conventional way you might think. Hellfire burns away at the soul, bypassing any defenses that would normally protect against typical burn damage. It’s like Salazzle’s Corrosion ability, only with fire.

But, if you’re going to be on the hunt for bad guys to make them pay for their sins, you’re going to need a toolset to match. From your typical hellish chains to soul manipulaton, Ghost Rider is one hell of a guy to fight…

Real talk: Lowkey disappointed that there weren’t more hell puns like this in the episode proper.

But if there’s anything that Ghost Rider is known for, it would be his Hell Cycle. Which we get a Wiz and Boomstick animation for the explanation.

Moving on, Ghost Rider’s other signature move is his Penance Stare. A Bloodcurdling gaze that burns the victims with the agony of their sins. Every life they’ve ruined, every person they’ve killed, all of it comes hitting you at once. Basically, it’s the “I’m not mad, just disappointed” phrase weaponized to the point that it burns. If you’re a truly sinful being, your soul goes bye bye. It’s like the Dark Hado, only with a less complicated button input.

And since the hosts neglected to mention it here (or even in the list of feats (Though, it is shown)), this stare once brought Galactus to his knees. Here’s the video link.

With all that power, Ghost Rider has taken on some insane opponents.

From the likes of Thor, to World War Hulk, to Doctor Strange, Ghost Rider has taken on a great slew of opponents, both good and bad.

However, Johnny doesn’t exactly have the best relationship with the Ghost Rider.

In fact, Johnny’s relationship with Ghost Rider is similar to Bruce Banner’s relation to the Hulk. Johnny suppresses Ghost Rider’s full potential, and the two often clash.

Also, since I forgot to bring it up earlier, The Penance Stare doesn’t work on the blind, those without a soul, those who draw power from pain, or masochists.

However, plot twist, Zarathos is actually an angel of vengeance, not a demon.

And similar to the Hulk, when Johnny opts to let the reigns loose, Zarathos. becomes so powerful, that he scares Doctor Strange.

For reference to Zarathos’ power, he’s equal to the divorce judge Mephisto, who in turn, once battle Galactus. The fight was so intense, that the entire universe was at risk as a byproduct of the battle.

Zarathos himself can eat souls. As for Johnny himself, the guy is still a mortal man, so he’s vulnerable to any kind of conventionally lethal attack. The Rider himself is vulnerable to holy weaponry, and is killable through it.

And even if he’s not too keen on being the Devil’s bounty hunter, Johnny’s doing alright. He even overthrew Mephisto… Does this mean that Peter and MJ’s divorce is null now?- I’m pretty sure that it’s null on the grounds of it being filed under duress, but still.

However, should you be walking out on your own, hearing a feint sound of a chopper drawing near, and see a glow on the horizon getting closer, you better hope that it’s not you that the Ghost Rider is after.

And you better pray to whatever deity that you believe in for mercy.

Because Ghost Rider won’t be giving it.

Lobo′s Preview.

It’s the 1990s, and the world of comics entered a darker age. After the success of such books like Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns, comic book companies started to churn out gritty anti-heroes by the dozen.

From the time-traveling mutant Cable, to the darker and grittier Azrael, and Overkill. It was an… interesting time, to say the least. They were certainly cool-looking, but at some point, it just got ridiculous, that the world needed someone to take these guys down a peg.

The world needed a hero- no. A parody.

Enter: Czarnia. A planet that was known to be the most peaceful place in the universe… “Was” being the keyword there. The planet was. ravaged by a biological lifeform that left only one survivor: The guy who killed them all: Lobo.

For the record, Lobo’s name roughly translates to “He who devours your entrails and enjoys it.”

(So, he’s basically the NRA).

Lobo’s birth caused so much destruction, that pretty much everyone around him died out. Hell, some theorists think that the universe made Lobo just to balance out the peacefulness of Czarnia.

Lobo strives to be unique, and what better way to be unique than to be the last of your kind?

Lobo has left destruction in his wake. Which is possibly why he became a bounty hunter, as it’s the only profession that legally lets you kill people… Not that it stops him from killing you illegally as well.

Lobo is so insanely durable, that his healing factor is stupidly powerful. And his strength is off the charts. He’s like the unholy child of Superman and Deadpool. Speaking of which…

Oh, Taka… You never fail to make us laugh.

Anyways, not only can Lobo regenerate from a single drop of blood, he can also basically clone himself from it.

If you haven’t guessed by now, Lobo is stupidly hard to kill. He’s taken on the likes of Superman and other high-level fighters to the point that he’s basically  invulnerable. And if that’s not enough for you, he’s also pretty smart capable enough of doing complex equations to be able to tag the Flash.

Lobo can even deduce the weak points of any opponent he faces.

Of course, you don’t get to be an infamous bounty hunter unless you have the tools for the job.

Lobo’s ride responds to his whistle, can fly fast enough to escape a black hole, comes equipped with numerous machine guns, and has numerous other add-ons to boot.

And he has numerous firearms to deal with anyone who gets in his way. Even better: He’s also a fan of chain weapons.

Lobo also likes to ignore some things too. Like how he can sing “Born To Be Wild” while in the vacuum of space.

If that’s not physics-breaking enough for you, Lobo also once did this:

He pulled down Solaris despite it being physically impossible. Not, physically like his physique is inadequate, more like… It breaks physics. Meybe he and the Flash can bond over that.

For reference, this is how much strength Lobo would be exerting to pull Solaris down, assuming that Solaris has a mass similar to our sun.

Lobo also once crushed an entire city to fit in the palm of his hand. And then he ate it. There’s not a laxative in the world that can make that easy to digest.

And thanks to his rambunctious attitude, and constant heavy metal playing, Lobo has been banned from the afterlife. As in, his soul is not to be collected by death. Once the universe ends, he doesn’t go with it.

Lobo has a bomb that wiped out the dinosaurs, allegedly murdered Santa Claus (Who could bypass Apoklips’ defenses to give Darkseid a lump of coal), and has even walked through literal willpower.

However, despite his many claims, Lobo isn’t perfect. He can still take damage, and while his spirit can fight on without his body, he’s not exactly invincible.

He also has a… fondness for dolphins… Apparently. But, he’s also a man of his word, and will follow things to the spirit too. So, he’s basically the exact opposite of the NRA.

And unlike guys like Doctor Fate, the Green Lanterns, and Darkseid, Lobo isn’t immune to retcons.

This new Lobo is a dark and tortured soul. Literally the thing that the real Lobo was meant to be a parody of.

Thankfully, some of the writers at DC had a sense of irony, and decided to shelve the new Lobo… Literally.

And with all that, Lobo is one fighter that you don’t want to mess with. Because when the Main Man gets a contract…

The Battle Itself.

Zack, Luis, and Jerky are heading this animation. Ghost Rider will be voiced by Steven Kelly and Lobo will be voiced by Jason Marnocha. ), sprite artists, Ride to Hell by Brandon Yates. Audio is led by Chris Kokkinos.

The fight starts off with Lobo collecting a bounty, only for the Spirit of Vengeance to show up and give Lobo what’s coming to him.

Lobo, being Lobo, doesn’t take too kindly to someone telling him what to do, so he just runs over the Hell Cycle to get away.

Ghost Rider, understandably mad as hell, gives chase, and even fries Lobo’s bounty while doing it. So now even the Main Man is mad too.

After a brief battle of chains, Lobo does a Scorpion impression and grabs Ghost Rider to give him one hell of a headbutt.

But Blaze doesn’t take this lying down, so the battle gets forced to a city… Hopefully abandoned.

And now it’s Ghost Rider’s turn to do a Scorpion impression as he uses his hellfire to give Lobo a nasty Burn.

This being Lobo, he powers through it to get to Ghost Rider to eat a building.

This being Ghost Rider, the Spirit of Vengeance bursts out, spilling blood everywhere. But, this is Lobo.

Or rather, Lobos (Note the plural). They dogpile on the burning skull head, forcing Ghost Rider to unleash Zarathos.

Lobo, pretty miffed at the moment, blasts Ghost Rider with a massive gun.

So, with the battlefield fragged, the finishing blow (Yes, this wasn’t the finishing blow) is coming up in 5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Hot damn…

Verdict + Explanation.

Okay, so… This being Lobo, it was a pretty intense fight. Lobo doesn’t die easily. And Lobo also takes many of the physical advantages, like strength. But Ghost Rider wasn’t a slouch in this area either.

Given the insane durability and amount of pain that each fighter could take and dish out, it was hard to say for sure as to who would win out. But, Lobo doesn’t have any specific weaknesses that are obscure, and he wasn’t equipped to have anything to really kill Ghost Rider.

Now, you might be thinking “Who cares about Holy Weapons when you can crush and eat a whole city?” While that’s a good question, and it’s also a good question to ask if Lobo could just overpower Johnny.

However, Remember: Zarathos = Mephisto, and Mephisto = Galactus. Given that the fight between Mephisto and Galactus put the whole universe at risk, it’s reasonable to say that Zarathos could do the same.

Now, given Lobo’s own speed, he couldn’t really run from the Ghost Rider either. Recall that the Hell Cycle could outrace Mjolnir, and Mjolnir could move over 100 Billion times the speed of light. So, even if Lobo could figure out Ghost Rider’s weaknesses, he can’t exactly get away to find a holy weapon to work with.

Essentially, Lobo could handle the Ghost Rider, but once Zarathos was unleashed, his means of victory started diminishing fast.

But now, for the big elephant in the room: How do you kill a person who’s banned from the afterlife?

Well, this is where you need a lawyer, because there’s a small little loophole that Ghost Rider can exploit:

Lobo’s soul can only not be collected, there’s nothing saying that his soul can just go poof. And Ghost Rider has three ways of just ending Lobo’s soul.

His hellfire bypasses normal defenses, his Penance Stare can deal damage to Lobo since he’s got trillions of dead people on his hands, and Zarathos could just straight-up eat his soul. Lobo has no defenses against attacks that target the soul.

Essentially, Lobo was toast.

The winner is Ghost Rider.

Overall impression.

This fight was cosmic. In essence, it takes some of the most intense fighters and pits them against each other. This fight has a lot of hype behind it, and it’s one

hell

of a fight.

However, the lack of “Hell” puns during Ghost Rider’s rundown is somewhat disappointing. But the fight is awesome. It also helps that the music is intense in the good way that it makes it really feel like a battle straight out of hell.

The fight’s awesome, the explanation makes sense, and the music is a banger.

8.666/10

Next Time…

A friend of mine on Deviantart is doing reviews of these Kaiju Movies and a few Power Rangers episodes too. I’m feeling that this fight might interest him.

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Robo-Kaiju Rumble.

[musiciatee]

yet another plot bunny: lucia garcía flores

Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo.

Lucia didn’t know what fresh air smelled like anymore.

She had forgotten what the sun felt like on her bare skin.  The one strong ray that shone in through the single skylight in her room was a poor alternative.

Her prison.

A crucifix hung directly above her bed, an artifact that only supplied the sense of security to anyone who wasn’t her. She’d spend her days rereading classic literature, draw, looking at herself in the mirror to stare at the glowing amber orbs where deep chocolate irises would usually stare back, laying in bed, and praying for salvation.

That last one seemed to be more out of habit than anything else. She wasn’t sure someone like her could ever find salvation.

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. 

Her mother had been the daughter of devout Catholics. A little too devout. María had been rebellious, to say the least. Left home the minute she graduated from high school, yearning to search for a life of her own. She had big plans. Leave home, never look back, go to college, graduate, go to law school, make a life for herself. But then she met the most mysterious and dangerous man she had ever come into contact with and for a small town girl, it was thrilling.

She didn’t know what came over her, sleeping with a man three hours after meeting him was certainly not something that was characteristically her. But something about him drew her to him. What was his name? Oh, it didn’t really matter, did it? Not really…

Not until María fell pregnant, a horribly unforeseen obstacle in the way of her detailed life plan.

She didn’t take after her holy namesake. She was more cutthroat than maternal, more ambitious than nurturing. That was no fault of her own, that was just who she was. But there was something that prevented her from doing her and the kid a favor, something that kept her from getting rid of it. A voice, sly and appealing, whispering at her ear, telling her not to do it.

She found herself listening to it until she was lying in a hospital bed, holding a little baby girl in her arms. She knew she couldn’t give the kid what she needed. And so the unnamed baby was left on the doorstep of her devout grandparents with nothing as a reminder of her mother save for a handwritten note and a stuffed cat.

Lucia didn’t know much about her mother other than the fact that her grandparents were ashamed of her and that she was off somewhere else, presumably living a successful life without having to face her biggest mistake.

But now her grandparents could say the exact same thing. Lucia had been carted off away from them, to a convent where they thought she could get the help she needed for her obviously sinful self. She lived with the sisters. Or rather, she lived as their prisoner.

At first she had wholeheartedly believed that it was the right thing to do. She had, after all, killed someone.

Of course, Lucia hadn’t meant to. Seventeen years old and she had been as sheltered as could be (her grandparents always had been afraid that she’d end up like her mother), but puberty had changed something in her. She turned heads, grabbed attention, much to her chagrin. Modest, baggy clothing did nothing to hide her uncontrollable smoldering gaze.

All she wanted was to keep her head down, finish high school, go to college, become an engineer. She had lofty goals just like her mother, and just like with María, a man got in the way. The only difference was that at the end of the day María made a choice. Lucia forever wished she had one.

She lost control.

It was the only way to explain it.

She would always remember him. Her first and last kiss. Samuel Connors. Eighteen years old. A high school senior, like her. He was planning on getting out of their small down, applying to schools on the coasts, but he hoped he could get into one in California because he wanted to live near a beach. He wanted to make movies.

He had an eye for art.

That’s what he told her when he saw her when he picked her up for the prom. The night went by in a blur and ended in the biggest tragedy of her life.

Her red prom dress pooled on the floor at the end of the bed, he hovered over her, lust clear in his eyes. The minute she tilted her head up, letting her lips meet his, it was like electricity jolted through her. All she could do was deepen the kiss, like she was literally drinking him in. It was in that moment she felt his every desire, his every wish, she knew him inside and out. His insecurities, his past, his deepest, innermost secrets. For those sweet, few moments, she was him and he was her. There was nothing about him she didn’t know.  There was no part of him that wasn’t hers.

She had never felt so alive.

And then she felt a weight fall against her.

Opening her eyes, Samuel Connors’ eyes were wide open, his skin ashen, and his heart no longer pulsing.

The convent hadn’t been a terrible place to stay. Not at first. But the sisters had been convinced of the darkness that lurked within in her the minute she stepped foot into their sanctuary. Nothing could sway them of anything else. Not her modest dress. Not the fact that she would mutter the Hail Mary under her breath at any moment possible.

Seventeen years old and she had been locked away, seemingly for her own good, but it only served to make that darkness fester.

Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús.

Five years.

It had taken five years for her to perfect her plan. Five years, but she had done it, albeit not on her own. Throughout those five, long years, she had been intermittently plagued by a whispering voice. Always the same voice. Low, smokey and appealing, but dangerous.

Use your voice, daughter. It would say. It had taken her a while to give into it, to actually listen and interpret what it meant. It wasn’t some cryptic bullshit her inner self was trying to say to motivate her. The mysterious voice was giving her insight into her abilities. And logically, if it was calling her daughter the mysterious voice belonged to her father. Belonged to a man she had never met and knew nothing about, but apparently was somehow able to guide her to escape.

While she was kept in her room, she had eventually been granted freedom for occasions such as attending Sunday mass, so long as a sister was by her side at all times. So, she started out small. Made sure that her commands were things that could be mistaken for simple graciousness on the part of the various sisters she practiced on.

‘Please, may I have an extra meal? May I have an extra hour out on the grounds? Could I get a moment alone, please?’

The first time she had used her abilities in front of a reflective surface, she nearly lost her nerve. Her eyes transformed, the pupils narrowing and the irises widening as they glowed a bright amber. To say that the honey-yellow of her eyes startled her would be an understatement. A stark contrast from her usually dark brown eyes, they were haunting to say the least.

It wasn’t just her eyes that changed. Her voice, when she used it so intentionally, became smoother than melted chocolate. Even to her ears, she could tell there was a difference in how she sounded.

‘Sister, please, just a moment of your time… Please… Wouldn’t you like this dress? I think you would. I have an idea, let’s trade.’

It was easy enough.

And so, with a rosary in hand and her head down, Lucia García Flores made her escape.

----

Coolville, Ohio was only about three hours away from Covington, but it was far enough from the convent that Lucia felt safe enough to settle down. It certainly wasn’t somewhere she pictured herself landing, but it would do. She no longer believed she could do all that she had planned for herself. She still didn’t know everything about herself. Subjecting herself to a college campus would probably be more trouble than it was worth. A town of no more than five hundred people would be the safest place for her.

Lucia resided there for four years. She kept her head down, lived out of a motel room, and got a job at the local diner. She kept to herself… save for perhaps the several few incidences she found herself in. The Bulldog Diner was a popular destination for those who found themselves only passing through the sleep little Ohio town. But due to the fact that it was seen as a simple pit stop, there were a handful of men who figured they could do whatever it was they wanted and could get away with it.

They’d never be back in town, after all right?

Well, they never had to deal with someone like Lucia before.

Throughout those four years, with every man she… encountered… devoured, she felt herself grow stronger, could feel herself evolving, but she wasn’t sure if it was a change she wanted.

I’m keeping the town safe, she would tell herself.

With every man she devoured she could feel herself be torn apart by two warring parts of her nature.

Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen.

She took Lucia’s breath away the minute she laid eyes on her. A bit of an odd sight in the small town diner what with her fur coat and bright pink hair. She was tall with smooth, dark skin and electric green eyes that stood out. The pale, blue haired girl that accompanied the breathtaking woman was strange as well, initiating some sort of reaction within her. There was something familiar but, at the same time, foreign about her. The latter made sense considering Lucia had never seen the young girl before, but there was something about the girl that made Lucia think twice about approaching the pair.

Lucia didn’t know much about her abilities other than what the sisters would fearfully confess.

The power of a demon runs through your veins.

Not exactly the most helpful, especially since there wasn’t much of an opportunity to practice harnessing her power at the convent. but ever since her escape, she had been granted the time to practice, especially with her self-appointed vigilante position to defend the women of Coolville. Even without getting too intimate now, she could get a light read on people near her. And what her inner voice was saying was that pale, blue haired girl was dangerous.

Sharon had been quick to wait on her and her companion considering Lucia had been too distracted to even move from behind the counter. It hadn’t even been a moment since Sharon had seated the two newcomers, when Travis swaggered in with his usual amount of snobbish entitlement.

Things only escalated from there.

In nearly the blink of an eye, the blue haired girl was gone and the goddess of a woman was on her feet, slamming heads into tables.

Follow them.

The voice of her father rang out to her with surprising clarity. So she did all she could think of doing in that moment.

Lucia hopped on her motorcycle and followed them.

It was both the best, and the worst, decision she had ever made. She still wasn’t sure that someone like her could be granted salvation, but she figured Kory Anders was probably the closest thing to heaven she’d ever get.

[eddycurrents]

The Chained Coffin & Others: “The Baba Yaga” & “A Christmas Underground”

“The Baba Yaga” - Words & Art: Mike Mignola | Colours: Dave Stewart | Letters: Pat Brosseau

Originally published by Dark Horse in Hellboy - Volume 3: The Chained Coffin & Others | August 1998

“A Christmas Underground” - Words & Art: Mike Mignola | Colours: James Sinclair | Letters: Pat Brosseau | Additional Colours & Separations: Dave Stewart

Originally published by Dark Horse in Hellboy Christmas Special  | December 1997

Collected in Hellboy - Volume 3: The Chained Coffin & Others | Hellboy Library Edition - Volume 2 | Hellboy Complete Short Stories - Volume 2

Plot Summary:

“The Baba Yaga” - In Russia, Hellboy sets out to put an end to the Baba Yaga and her habit of what he thinks of as eating children.

“A Christmas Underground” - In England, Hellboy comes to the aid of a priest ministering the wishes of a dying woman, who entreats him to look for her daughter and bring peace to her with a Christmas present.

Reading Notes:

(Note: As before pagination is solely in reference to these stories themselves and is not indicative of anything withing the issues or collections.)

pg. 1 - I love the old woman’s explanation to Hellboy as to why the Baba Yaga does some of her strange things, she just does. I find this is an important thing of mythology and many folktales, there is often no apparent logic to be found in the actions of these creatures, and looking for one will often drive you mad.

pg. 2 - Nice reinforcement here that HB just won’t accept things as they are because it’s the way they’ve always been done. That stubborn streak is definitely one of the hallmarks of the character.

pg. 4 - The skull lantern is not just an interesting visual, but a part of many traditional Baba Yaga stories.

pg. 5 - The battle between Baba Yaga and Hellboy is funny and entertaining, even while we’re not quite sure of the ramifications from HB wounding her.

pg. 8 - This scene and the one preceding it on the previous page with the trio of animals is great. I love them acting as a Greek chorus commenting on Baba Yaga’s downfall, but also the design here on this page is just enticing. It’s neat how you can read it either across in tiers, or as one large panel with the bear as an inset.

Also, using the bear as the speaking point for Baba Yaga’s ultimate fate in this story has some wonderful symbolism. The bear as Russia speaking of the Baba Yaga as Russia, so therefore Russia endures.

pg. 9 - I like the return here in feel to the Edwardian/Victorian Gothic horror atmosphere and approach to the story. It’s a good set up for what feels like might be a Christmas ghost story. Of course, Mignola is good at misdirection.

pg. 12 - This identification of Hellboy with Santa is fascinating. It can be taken as simply the delusions of an old dying woman, but there’s quite possibly a significance there to HB’s character.

pg. 14 - The warnings of Hellboy entering the underground realm are suitably creepy. It’s interesting as we see the colour change from the blue-grey to the yellow here. As if he’s stepping into some other realm. Though I suppose that is the case.

It’s both funny and telling the names that Anne call Hellboy in his quest, starting with Quixote. This kind of hints at his quest being futile, that he’s tilting at windmills, as it were. Reinforced in a way by then referring to him as Lancelot, who was slightly more successful than Quixote, casting Hellboy as a suitor, though, which doesn’t quite fit. Then a reference to Cyrano de Bergerac and more specifically one of his novels alluding to  L’Autre monde ou les états et empires de la Lune, a suitably obscure science fiction novel, even if its author is more famous. This one also has some interesting overtones as considering the novel also has a section on how sex would work in a perfect world. It definitely seems like Anne is expecting that Hellboy is only there for one thing.

pg. 14-15 - It’s both creepy and profound the states of Anne’s eyes on these two pages. When she first meets Hellboy, her eyes are pitch black. When she remembers her mother, and her mother calling her “Annie”, they shift back to normal. I like this visual suggestion that something’s not right here.

pg. 16 - Silver eyes shadow demon guy is just creepy.

pg. 17 - I like the cross panel word balloons that Pat Brosseau is using in this story. He’s done the effect before in other pieces, but more often it’s just a bleed to the gutter, here it’s right across panels. Part of it is definitely limited space within the panel itself, but as it continues to happen it looks like a deliberate choice. It also ties the panels affected together in an interesting visual way.

pg. 18 - I’m certainly not one to advocate Christianity over any other religion, but I like the symbolism here. Of a mother giving her daughter a present for Christmas in order to overcome the evil that she’s found herself bewitched by.

pg. 19 - It comes as no surprise when the illusion is broken, but I particularly enjoy Hellboy’s reaction to the sudden change and the designs of this “hell” are wonderful.

pg. 20-22 - How these three pages are presented are gorgeous. Working through Annie letting go of her ensorcellment in the form of the wedding band, its shift to a salamander, and Hellboy fighting through fire. Love the colour, or lack thereof in some parts, and the action.

pg. 22-28 - We don’t see this kind of overlapping narrative as much in Hellboy, but it’s interesting how Mignola paces this, with the priest’s actions in regards to the exorcism and blessing the elder Mrs. Hatch before her death, the weakening of the demon’s illusion, the battle with the demon, the earthquake, the departure of Mrs. Hatch with her daughter, the conclusion of the battle with the demon, and then the fire. Usually we’ve seen a more discrete break between sequences, even if one happens to be broken up by another, so it’s an interesting choice to see it overlap here. 

pg. 28 - The visual of the house on fire is gorgeous. How Mignola composites this panel, complete with the spot colours from Sinclair of the fire and Hellboy.

Final Thoughts:

Tying up this loose little bit from Wake the Devil in regards to Hellboy’s first interaction with the Baba Yaga, and telling how he took her eye is a bit of fun. It’s a nice piece of backstory that embellishes upon what we already knew, and gives a bit more ties to Russian folklore overall.

“A Christmas Underground” is interesting in a few ways. It’s a nice Christmas ghost story, tragic, and somewhat subversive, but it works on that straight surface level. But I also find it interesting on the basis of Mignola’s inspiration from another folktale he mentions in the text piece of a girl who finds stairs in her garden and follows them to an invisible prince underground.

There are a number of tales that this could have been, from Cupid and Psyche to Persephone and Hades, or neither or something itself inspired by it, but I think it’s interesting how Mignola turns it into this horror tale. Instead of one of love, it’s corrupted. Even in Anne’s perception of Hellboy’s motivations, they’re ones of personal attainment, of lust, rather than the usual altruism of the “knight in shining armour”. It’s a fascinating dark take on the often more upbeat and pleasant variations of the girl going off to live in a fantasy land.

d. emerson eddy would like to make some hot toddies now.

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc V: Back into Hell (V)

Chapter 5: From Beneath it Lurks

           The basement. Every ten year old’s worst fear outside of Barney the Dinosaur. Or the Underworld. Or Tako Shak. Or your evil corporate shill self. 

You know, after all the crap I’d been through over the summer, the basement was penny beans all considered. Anyway, no one knows why the basement became such a dreaded place among children the world over, though its’ close proximity to the underworld might have something to do with it. And really, who was to say the low moaning from below was the furnace and not, say, Al-biblibop, Vivisector of Souls? Certainly not my parents, that’s for sure.

           Funny thing is, the basement probably wasn’t even that long, though when your only light source is a birthday cake candle clenched in your fist, the darkness seems to go on forever. Not to mention every stray gust from old Jack Frost felt like some sort of monster breathing. But worst had to be the walls. Whoever had dug this tunnel had dug it in a way that made the walls fold in on each other like some sort of giant black intestine, with gross streaks of pink where the Salisbury Steak had cut roots through the place. Once, back in 1st Grade, I’d gotten lost on the way back from the tinkle room and waltzed right into a high school health class right in the middle of watching a colonoscopy video. Walking through that tunnel felt like reliving that nightmare all over again.

Shatner, funny enough, actually seemed amused by this comparison, like I’d just told him a good joke.

           This didn’t exactly calm my nerves, though. We kept our cleaver at the ready, itching to slice a monster at a moment’s notice. But you know what’s worse than a monster lunging out of the darkness at you? When no monster lunges out of the darkness at you. Because that means wherever you are, even child-eaten cretins want nothing to do with it. And why would monsters not want to be around?

Better to not know the answer to that, let me tell ya!

Ten feet we endured this. Ten long, tedious feet before we saw something. Or somethings, to be exact. They were black. They were green. They were orange and blue and every color in between. And they covered the walls like scribbly little snakes!

“Cave paintings!” gasped Shatner.

Indeed they were, the sorts you’d find tacked to the refrigerator door. An dif there’s one thing little me knew about cave paintings, it’s that just like with picture books, illustrations tell 90% of the story! This particular one involved a mysterious race of creatures that looked like men, but with only four fingers (and they most certainly were four fingered creatures; not ‘poorly drawn stick figures’ as a certain partner of mine likes to claim. Anybody with a brain could tell you those pencil thin bodies were a stylistic choice! Stylistic!) Things got right eerie, though, when we realized the stick figures looked a bit too much like us and Hilda (with four fingers, of course. And in my case, too fat). The drawing started out with the three stick figures living as servants to some scribbly black cloud, until one day they summoned what I can only call the most butt-ugly depiction of a poop I had ever seen. Remember that one kid in kindergarten (you know the one) who’d take all the crayons and just go wild all over the walls? Now imagine giving that kid six lattes and free reign over your house. Somehow the thing looked even nastier than that! And for those of you wondering if it’s possible to make a crayon drawing so terrifying it can make a guy wet his pants in five seconds flat, let’s just say Shat’s drawers weren’t exactly the cleanest after he laid eyes on the picture.

“B-b-bob Sardoth!” he sputtered, all over the walls “Bob-Sardoth!”

“Whozat?”

“I envy your ignorance of the dark secrets man was not meant to know.” Shatner spoke all serious-like.

I rolled my eyes. It was the same thing my Dad told me whenever I asked if the Easter Bunny crapped chocolate eggs.

           As for the painting story, it went on to show that dark cloud, Bob Sardoth or whatever, got into the kid’s mean ol’ master. First things seemed hunky dory in happy funtime land, with them all hopping through a field of white flowers Shatner told me were mountain laurels while a rainbow arched above them. (Relatively hunky dory. In my book, that’s what Hell looks like.) But after that, things really took a dive: lots of violent scribbles everywhere and hundreds of people toiling at… something while the demon-possessed master and the one that looked like Hilda laughed menacingly on a hill, like they were villains who’d just jumped out of one of my Saturday morning cartoons. Things got even more messy when the stick figures rose up and started beating the crap outta the Master. If there was one thing I wished the paintings showed, it was the whole fight, but the artist must have gotten lazy, because what followed were a bunch of swirly dark clouds before cutting to the aftermath.

           The stick figures, triumphant (I think) held hands in a circle around some giant star, looking up at the sky with large round Os in the middle of their heads. At the center of this circle was that Bob-Sardoth guy, getting sucked into this cute little animal with whiskers and a sausage body.

“Freddie!” gasped Shatner.

There was no mistaking it. The stick figures might have looked a tad like us, but that poorly drawn weiner schnitzel was undeniably Fred. And just when I thought the whole thing couldn’t get any wilder, Shatner pointed out something else beneath the whole thing.

“P-primitive writing! I-I think I can decipher it!” he sounded like he was about to faint.

“Really? So those scribbles are in some ancient language or something?”

“Actually, cursive. Very, very poor cursive. Whoever wrote this should be absolutely ashamed of their penmanship.”

The cave shuddered, pieces of rock clipping against the floor.

“A-anyhow, it reads ‘This is the chaunt by which the people sealed Bob Sardoth: Eye-‘“

           Well, it must have been the Jack Frost’s birthday because he chose right that moment to blow our cake candle right out! Only to take back his wish, because five horrifying seconds later, the light came back on. Except now, there were only muddy black walls when art had once been. In their place, at the end of the tunnel, was a ring of light surrounding a little square door that should have rotted away when my Grandma was a kid.

“No,” whispered Shatner “Nonononononono…”

“C’mon.” I told him “we’re here. I think. Let’s get this over with before we freeze to death!”

Together, we opened the door- nice and slow, like two kids sneaking on Santa.

                                                    .   .   .

(Author’s Note: For those reading, the next few chapters are gonna need quite a bit of polishing up, so I’m afraid this story will be going on hiatus for another month so I can clean them up. Thank you for sticking with this story all this time, it means a lot to me, and I promise I’ll do my best to make these next chapters truly great.)

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Christmas Presents (Children Part 6)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3341

Summary: Christmas morning with all the Snow-PItch extended family there.

Read on AO3

Simon

“Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?”

I crack a single eye open. It’s still dark out, but there’s a sunshine bright grin right in front of my face. His dark blue eyes are lit up with joy. I try to smile as much as I can, considering I just woke up.

“Morning Ebb,” I mumble. “What is it?”

“It’s 6am. You said we could come get you up at 6am.”

I sigh heavily. “Yes, we did tell you that, didn’t we? Where’s your sister!”

“Christmas, Christmas, Christmas!” Tasha shouts as she runs in and jumps on our bed. I’m jolted up violently with the first bounce, making me wheeze. She marches back and forth across our mattress. Baz groans and puts a pillow over his head.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles

“Papaaaaa!” Tasha whines. “You have to get up! It’s Christmas!”

I chuckle, rubbing his back. “Well kids, Papa had too much ‘grown up drink’ last night at dinner and he’s not feeling so great.”

“Awww, Papa!” Tasha flops down on top of him. “Don’t be sad, it’s Christmas. No one should be sad on Christmas.”

"Yeah," Ebb chimes in, crawling up over me to see him and digging a knee into my lungs (wonderful). "No sadness on Christmas. Not allowed."

Baz chuckles, rolling over to hug them both properly. He strokes her curly black ponytail and holds Ebb’s little hand. “Don’t worry, little puffs, I’m not sad. Just a bit groggy. How about you two go wake up everyone else while Daddy and I get ready?”

“Okay!” Tasha chirps. They both slide to the floor takes her hand. “I’ll go to Aunt Penny and Uncle Micah’s. And you go to Aunt Agatha’s. Okay, Ebb?”

“Okay!” He replies. They run off together giggling. I prop up on my elbow to smirk down at him.

“You’re so evil,” I whisper playfully.

He grins wide, obviously pleased with himself. “You did marry a plotting vampire, Snow.”

“Yeah, and after all these years you’ve still got it.”

“Damn right.” He leans up and quickly presses his lips against mine. His smile soft and warm and everything I could ever want. “Merry Christmas, Simon.”

I tap my forehead against his. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Gah! Tasha! Stop jumping!” Penny’s voice carries perfectly from down the hall.

“For Crowley’s sake, Ebb, I’m up, I’m up,” Agatha moans.

Baz and I both giggle like schoolboys who’ve pulled off the ultimate prank. “Santa should’ve given us both coal,” I say.

“Hm, you may have a point. But...”

“Stop shaking me, Tash!” Gil groan-yells.

Baz chuckles lowly. “It’s too funny.”

I laugh with him. “Agreed.”

We gather in our flat’s living room. Tasha, Ebb, and Gil sit on the floor next to the tree, whispering to each other giddily. I go around to the adults with much needed morning coffee.

“Morning, Pen,” I say with large shit eating grin as I pour. She stares daggers at me through frizzy green bangs.

“Your children are nightmares,” she grumbles.

“And your child has thrown up on me six times over his life. Call it payback.”

She grunts and sips her coffee. I pour for Micah too, who gives me a brief glare over his own mug. Even his usually pleasant demeanor is overridden by tiredness. Next I stop at Agatha. She came all the way from California to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day with us. But from the look of murder in her eyes she may be regretting it.

“Merry Christmas, Ags,” I say cheerily.

“I was right,” she mutters, “you did have demon spawn.”

“Yup! You should see them on April Fool’s. They’re lethal.”

“Aleister Crowley, no thank you.”

“Daddy?” Ebb asks from the floor. “Can we open presents now?”

“Yeah, we want presents,” Gil adds loudly (he’s still pretty loud even at twelve.)

“Gil,” Micah says sternly. “Manners.”

Gil groans. “Can we open presents now, please?”

“In one minute,” Baz says from behind the camera. He’s been setting up his tripod for the last five minutes. “I want to get a good picture.”

Agatha puts a hand to her heart. “Aw Basilton, you’ve gotten so sentimental in your old age.”

“I’m only a month older than you, Wellbelove.”

“Still, it’s so cute. Tasha, Ebb, your father is adorable. No matter how scary he is, always remember that.”

“That’s what Daddy calls him!” Tasha giggles. “He also calls him hot, and se-”

Gil claps a hand over her mouth (he's old enough to be aware, thank Merlin,) just as I choke on my coffee. If Baz had more blood in his system, his face would be beet red. Penelope tries to contain her snickers unsuccessfully. Agatha doesn’t even try. Micah just looks away and drinks his coffee.

“Let’s take the fu- darn picture,” Baz mutters. He sits next to me and whispers in my ear. “We need to watch our conversations around the children better, Snow.”

“Apparently.”

“Light’s blinking,” Micah says. “Everyone say cheese!”

“Cheese!”

The flash goes off with all of us smiling. Ebb tugs on my pants. “Can we open presents now, Daddy?”

I ruffle his dark curly hair. “Sure thing, love. You and Tasha and Gil can hand them out.”

“Yay!”

The three kids start handing out presents. Penelope receives a tea cozy from me and a necklace from Micah, both of which she loves. She and Baz exchange books, of course, as they have on every Christmas for years. Gil gets a new chemistry set from Baz and I, as he blew up his last one. Weirdly, Agatha and Baz give each other small Troye Sivan posters. They give each other a strange knowing look. Penelope and Micah gift me with cherry oven mitts. Baz groans at them with a slight smile at them. Agatha gives me a pile of American chocolate, because she knows I love it. In exchange, I give her a new book on horses she'll certainly love. Tasha gives everyone each a small book she wrote herself, and Ebb gives us some of his favourite rocks from his rock collection. Ebb gets more Legos to add to his already enormous collection, and Tasha gets lots of books from both everyone. She buries her nose in them immediately.

Once all the gifts are open, I turn to Baz with a questioning look. He nods.

“Tasha,” I say, making her look up from her novel, “come up here for a second.”

“Okay.” She puts down Harry Potter and scrambles up in between us. I carefully tuck a stray piece of her black hair behind her ear instinctively. It’s familiar, comforting me for this ensuing conversation. “What is it?”

“Darling,” Baz starts, “we’d like to give you one more present.” He reaches behind the sofa and pulls out the thin, wrapped present.

Tasha eagerly rips the paper off. She looks at it confused. “What’s this? It looks like Daddy’s wand.”

Her observation isn’t incorrect. The wand is very similar to Baz’s, white bone with a leather handle. “Yes, it does,” I say. “This was your grandmother’s wand.”

“The one I’m named after?”

“Yes, Papa’s mother, Natasha Grimm-Pitch. She was a very good mage, and she was headmistress at a special school just for mages. Like you and Ebb and Papa.”

Tasha furrows her brow. “Okay? Why are you telling me?”

“Because,” Baz chimes in, “we were wondering if you would like to go that school eventually. It’s called Watford. A lot of mages go there. You would learn how to use your magic better up there, and you’d need your own wand to do so. Hence, we’re giving you your grandmother’s wand.”

“What’s Watford like? Did you go there? Is it nice?”

Oh shit. Baz and I give each other a nervous look. Penelope and Agatha share the same expressions. We all know Tasha is still too young for the whole story of our time at Watford. Me and Baz have talked about it about a bit when needed, but with none of the truly gory details. I honestly don’t know what to tell her.

“Sweetheart,” Agatha says softly, sliding to the floor in front of Tasha, “to be perfectly honest, no, it wasn’t nice when your Dads, Aunt Penny, and I went. There was a lot of bad stuff going on that we unfortunately got involved in. Even though we didn’t want to.” Tasha’s face scrunches up, along with my heart. I open my mouth to speak, but Agatha puts a single finger up to stop me. “But, it’s not like that now. It’s much nicer. All the bad stuff is gone, mostly thanks to your Dads and Aunt Penny and Aunt Penny’s Mum. She was headmistress for years after a very bad man and she fixed what he did.”

Penelope moves to sit next to Agatha, putting a hand on Tasha’s knee. “Yeah, there’s nothing bad there now, we promise. My Mum got rid of his bad things, but kept the few good things. You can go there and learn to use your magic and have fun with other little magicians just like you. Funny enough, the current headmistress is a woman named Trixie. And I know for a fact she’s very nice, because we were roommates at Watford. She’s a bit high strung, sure, but she makes sure Watford stays a pleasant place to be now. Gil can tell you, he’s in his second year there.”

“Yeah!” Gil shouts, popping up from the ground. “It’s great. There are so many other mages there all together. It’s unlike anywhere else. Also you get to live in a dorm with a roommate, and there are really fun and interesting classes. Oh, and the food there is the best. Especially the sour cherry scones.”

“Agreed, Gil!” I say, earning a soft chuckle from the others.

Baz puts an arm around Tasha and she leans into him. “So, little puff, what do you think?”

She looks up at him with big round hazel eyes. “Do I hafta go?”

“No, no of course not. You only have to go if you want to. Neither Daddy or I will force you.”

I rub her back up and down, something I’ve done to comfort her for years. “It’s your choice, love. We’ll support you matter what. Promise.”

She turns the wand over in her hands, lips twisting in contemplation. “Will I live there? Away from home?”

“Yes. But we can come visit you or you can visit us on weekends. And mobiles are allowed now, so you can call us anytime you like. Plus, Gil will be there, so you’ll know at least one person. It’s still up to you, though. Whatever you want, darling.”

“Do I hafta choose right now?”

“No,” Baz says. “Not right at this moment. You wouldn’t even have to go there for another two years.”

She nods slowly, just like Baz does when he’s thinking. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s great, love.”

Tasha holds up her wand. “Can I keep this though?”

“Sure. Just be careful. It’s quite old and very precious to our family.”

“Of course.” She jumps to the floor with flair. “Ebby! Gilly! Let’s go play in the snow! I’m really good at those kinda spells.”

The two boys look at us for permission. Baz, Penelope, Micah and I all nod. They jump up and follow Tasha to the coat rack. Baz sighs, just a little wistfully.

“I’ll go watch them,” he says. “Make sure they don’t blow anything up, or reveal magic to Normals.”

I pat his shoulder. “Good plan, love.”

They all bundle up and shuffle out the door. I let out a shaky breath and relax against the sofa. That conversation had been terrifying me for months. Penny grabs my hand, and I squeeze it once firmly.

“That,” I sigh, “went much better than I thought it would.”

Agatha nods. “Yeah. I was worried she was going to freak out more about possibly living there.”

“Me too. But despite her volume level and rambunctiousness, she’s a lot like Baz, very logical. She knows living there doesn’t mean we’re abandoning her.”

“You think she’ll end up wanting to go, though?” Penelope asks.

I shrug, shoulders coming up to my ears.”Maybe. She seems to like the idea of learning more about magic, but she’s still wary. We’ll see, I guess. It’s up to her.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” She tugs me up. “Let’s see what those hooligans are up to now.”

We all go to the window facing the terrace. They’re all standing in corner away from most of the other apartments so they’re mostly hidden. The still dim sunlight helps. Tasha is whipping up a trail of snowflakes and making it dance in figure eights in the air. Baz catches it from her with his own wand, making his own patterns. Gil uses his magic to help a giddy Ebb build a snowman. My family is absolutely fantastic.

“Hey, Simon,” Micah says, voice wondering. “If Tasha has Headmistress Grimm-Pitch’s old wand, what are you gonna give Ebb?”

I laugh slightly. This is something Baz and I have already discussed. “Well, we actually still have my old one, so he’ll get that. He’ll probably use it better than me.”

“Definitely,” Agatha says with a shit eating grin. We all laugh. I knock her shoulder. Okay, my family is full of arseholes, but they’re fucking great.

After hours of chatting, playing with presents, and spell casting practice for Tasha, we eat Christmas dinner together. With lots of wonderful noise. We have to tell Tasha to put her new wand down to eat (something she does very reluctantly). Gil regales us all with tales of his Watford antics. He’s not fighting a super villain like we did, but he likes to play pranks with his roommate. They’ve got some good ones. Like replacing the sugar in the kitchen with salt, or releasing snakes at a school picnic. Ebb, Natasha and I howl with laughter. The others rolls their eyes while shaking their heads.

“He’s done well, but it’s no chimera,” Baz whispers in my ear. It sends me into another fit of cackling.

Eventually, the sky gets dark, and we gather around the gas fireplace together with hot chocolate. Baz gets out his violin, and Micah gets out his guitar. They take turns between playing and singing. Micah’s voice is full and warm, strangely complementing Baz’s usual eerie violin tune. Baz’s melodious singing tone weirdly goes with his guitar strumming. Penelope tries to join in at one point. But she has a truly terrible voice, and it just sends us all into giggles, even her.

At Penelope’s off key rendition of Jingle Bells, Ebb tugs at my sleeve. His eyelids are drooping heavily.

“Daddy, I’m tired. Can I go to bed?”

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

Tasha leans against me, cheek pressed into my bicep. “Me too, Daddy. I’m all Christmased out.”

“Perfectly understandable, love. It’s been a long day. Baz? Little help?”

Baz puts down his violin immediately. “Sure thing.”

I scoop up Ebb, his little arms wrapping around my neck. Baz takes Tasha as she’s heavier and he has vampire strength. We walk them carefully up the stairs. With lots of effort and help from us, they get changed into their pyjamas. Ebb falls asleep clutching his dragon stuffie that Tasha passed down to him a few years ago. I gently close the door behind him, just as Baz does the same in Tasha’s room. We turn to each other with matching smiles.

“Tasha tried to cuddle the wand to sleep,” he chuckles.

“Merlin,” I sigh, “even if she doesn’t go to Watford, she certainly loves magic just as much as you.”

“Very true.”

I let out a long yawn. “Y’know, I think I’m Christmassed out too.”

Baz yawns too. “I’m feeling quite sleepy. Let’s say goodnight and get to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

We tell the others that we’re off to bed. Micah says a kind goodnight. Penelope half heartedly waves, as she’s also falling asleep. Agatha calls us old men while dozing on our couch. (She’s immune to irony.) Gil is already passed out on the floor on one of our throw pillows.

Baz and I go through our usual evening routines then crawl into bed together. The warm blanket feels perfect after a long day. I let the heat of it whisk me off into comfortable sleep. But as I’m drifting off, Baz shakes my shoulder.

“Hey, Snow,” he whispers, “don’t fall asleep just yet. I still haven’t given you your Christmas present.”

“Mm,” I grumble. “Gimme it tomorrow like always.”

“Snow.”

“Ugh, fine.” I sit up, glaring at him as best I can. “What is it? If it’s sex, I’m too tired.”

“No, it’s not sex, you dirty minded git. It’s this.” He hands me a folded piece of thick paper.

I sit up against the headboard and unfold it. My eyes go wide. It’s...me. A sketch of me done in pencil. I’m sleeping on a desk, head pillowed in my folded arms. It’s from Watford, as I’m in my uniform and my hair is much longer. I turn to Baz with my mouth hanging open. He’s smiling in that kind, soft way he only really does around me and our kids.

“Wha...what is this?” I whisper.

“While I was getting my mother’s wand at Hampshire, I came across this in my old room. I went through a drawing phase in sixth year. And, well, I mostly drew you, as I was...”

“Terribly obsessed with me?” I quirk an eyebrow.

He swats my shoulder. “Shut up, you were just as obsessed with me. Anyway, most of my sketches were shite, but this one was pretty good. You look pretty cute. Drooling all over your desk.”

“I don’t drool!”

“Sorry, love, you definitely do.”

I humph and turn back to the sketch. It’s not perfect, but it’s rough in a way that’s beautiful. Sort of fascinating in it’s rawness. I can really tell it’s by Baz. He focused heavily on my freckles and moles (he loves them) and my wild curly hair. It makes me sort of want to grow it back. I love it, so much.

I turn to Baz, cupping his cheek. “It’s wonderful, Baz. Thank you.”

“Welcome, darling. Happy Christmas.” He leans forward and kisses me. Our lips move slowly, but we smile between every peck. I feel it all the way down to my toes.

When we pull apart, I carefully place the drawing on my bedside table and open the drawer. “Well, if we’re giving presents now, I should probably give you these.”

I had him the two pieces of stiff paper. He looks at them with narrowed eyes. “Opera tickets? You hate the opera.”

“Yeah, but you love it. Look at where it’s playing though.”

He sighs and looks more closely. “Playing on May 30th at the...Teatro alla Scala.” Slowly, he lifts his head, grey eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. “That’s...that’s in Milan.”

I grin very, very hard. “I know.”

“W-Wait, what?”

“Well, we haven’t a trip that’s just the two of us in a long time. So I thought, ‘hey, why don’t we drop the kids with Penny and Micah for Easter break and go to Italy for a few days? Then you can watch your weird screechy sing play and I can stuff my face with Italian pastries. Win win!’”

I stare at him grinning for a long second, him staring back bewildered. Suddenly, he throws his long arms around me in a crushing hug.

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” he whispers into my ear. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too. Merry Christmas.”

He pulls back, smiling in a way that makes my heart leap. Putting the tickets aside, we curl up under the covers together. Baz holds my waist tightly, nose pressed into the back of my neck. I watch the snow slowly fall outside our window. I happily fall asleep with my husband snoring softly behind me and watching the snowflakes sparkle like magic.

AN: This fic is so cheesy you could pair it with crackers :D Yeah I love me good ol' fluff. Plus some discussions about Tasha going to Watford. I think Baz and Simon really would suggest it but leave the decision up to her. Since they didn't get much choice growing up, they'd make sure she'd have that. That's my take. Tomorrow we have the finale: anniversaries!

[theclaravoyant]

when you’re born hell-bound

Fitz can't stop worrying about the trajectory his Framework experience has put him on, and what it all means. Fortunately, he's with the one person in the world in perhaps the best position to allay his fears.

-

AN ~ Bits of this kept trying to force its way into What We Make (my much fluffier Secret Santa gift fic), but since they speak to some of my fears and hopes for this storyline of Fitz’s I decided to work them into something presentable. I quite like it in the end, but it is quite angsty (though with a strong hurt/comfort leaning), so enjoy and/or appreciate it as is appropriate.

TW: discussion of themes of domestic violence pertaining to Fritz. If you want more detail before deciding whether or not to venture forward, let me know.

Rated T. Fitz. FitzSimmons. Vague 5x05 spoilers. Read on AO3 (~3000wd)

-

when you’re born hell-bound

-

“You’re up early.”

Fitz started, and turned toward the sound. It was Jemma, standing just beyond the treeline of this little clearing he’d found. She had her hiking boots on – laces still untied - under her pyjamas, and was frowning at him in concern.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed, and invited her out onto the hillock he had found. He’d watched the sun rise a few hours ago from here, and the sky was now a pale and cloudy blue, the sunlight a haze across it. Jemma jutted out her chin, as if to soak up the rays even as Fitz pulled her close and tucked her under the wings of his jacket. He kissed the top of her head, which he often did when feeling pensive, and Jemma’s attention dropped back down to earth. She turned to face him.

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just- you know, the usual. Existential dread. Dark side of the Force. That kind of thing.”

“The Force.” Jemma snorted. “You make it sound like the Doctor is this… alternate personality you’re doing battle with in your head.”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” Fitz confessed.

Jemma lifted his hands from around her waist, and folded them into her own.

“You know that’s not what he meant, right?”

“Hunter.” It still hurt a little to think about him – it would probably never stop – but a sorry excuse for a smile touched Fitz’s lips. “I think he meant that it’s like what he did, or you did, or Daisy… you know, levelling up in Badass or whatever. It just doesn’t feel like that to me. You all chose to take up arms and– and fight against your demons. The Doctor is my demons. I can’t fight him, he’ll kick my ass.”

“I have to disagree with you there,” Jemma pointed out. “I had to defend people I love. Violence was the way to do that at the time, there wasn’t a lot of choice to it, and I may have taken to it better than I might have liked, but even you have to admit it’s been useful.”

“That part, I know. I mean, I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, I’ve – I’ve done a lot of scary, violent things that I don’t regret,” Fitz agreed. “But this is different. This feels… out of control. It’s wrong, Jemma. I just know it.”

He pulled away from her then, and strode back into the forest, itching to get away from her all of a sudden. It felt like the Doctor was a shadow creeping up the back of his neck, just waiting to take him over, and he was struggling to make the others understand that without sounding like a villain claiming possession; claiming brainwashing; claiming it wasn’t my fault, when it was. He clenched his fists and stuffed them into his pockets.

Jemma, for her part, didn’t make the quip she’d been thinking of to lighten the mood about Fitz’s gut feelings and overdramatic antics. Nor did she remind him of the psychology of conscious and subconscious, or any of the several schools of philosophy that might have helped him. In truth, none of these things came to her mind in the moment. She simply followed him, ignoring the branches that thwacked back in her face and feeling helpless as she watched Fitz’s whole body bristle with anxiety.

“Fitz,” she called, once she realised he didn’t know where he was going.

He stopped dead, but didn’t turn around.

“Fitz,” she repeated, softer. “Please. I want to understand what’s happening to you. I want to help. Come back to camp, have some breakfast. Talk to me.”

With some effort, Fitz pulled his hands out of his pockets, and trailed her back to camp in silence. He sat by the fire as Jemma set it up, lost in his own head until she nudged his arm and pressed a cup of tea between his fingers. He took it, and she smiled encouragingly up at him. It hurt to see him so lost and in pain, but bringing him out here felt like a step in the right direction. Hopefully, they were about to make another.

“I know, it’s not…” he explained slowly, trying to capture what it felt like in his head, and translate it somehow. “It’s not like a real… switch. I’m not Hulking out, or anything. That Dark… side, or whatever it is, it’s still me. I know that. But in a way, that sort of makes it worse. It makes it… my fault.” He swallowed hard, and clenched the cup, approaching the confession. “I couldn’t sleep last night because I had a dream that I was strangling you. I don’t remember why. I don’t even know if there was a reason. I was just so angry.”

He kept his eyes on the tea, shaking slightly as his hands trembled with the nerves. Jemma bit her lip, trying not to make a sound. Trying to process what that must have been like, even as her hand gravitated up toward her neck. She remembered the Framework, as much as she didn’t want to – and so did he.

“I woke up,” Fitz continued, “and- and you were there, sleeping so peacefully next to me like nothing happened. You were so beautiful, and all I could think about was what I did in there. To you. To – to make you kneel like that, and beg me, and I – I shot you Jemma. I shot you.”

“I was your enemy,” Jemma reminded him, ignoring the tears pricking at her own eyes. She’d sorted this out long ago, rationally, in her head, and she was determined not to be pulled back under by the fear, or by the memory of those cold gunmetal eyes. She stared intently at Fitz’s face, keeping her attention on the man he was now: his own eyes full of emotion, and brimming with tears at the thought of having hurt her, even in a nightmare. “I killed your father, in there. You had every reason to hate me.”

“Then why didn’t I just shoot you?” Fitz returned. “Or break your neck. Or poison you. Why didn’t I have somebody else do it? Why did I feel the need to order you down on your knees and make you cry? What kind of sick bastard needs that level of power? Why make the situation so- so– “

“Loaded?” Jemma supplied. “I confused you, I humiliated you. It was revenge. You might have been a bit theatrical about it, but it was just revenge.”

“It was disgusting,” Fitz insisted. He choked up with an ugly, snotty sob before Jemma could object, and buried his face in his hands as best he could, trying to catch his breath and hide his face and not spill his tea all at the same time. Jemma rested a hand on his shoulder as gently as she could, and eased the teacup from his grip before he lost hold. Her resolve strengthened as his faltered.

“What are you saying, Fitz?” she pressed carefully. “That you abused me?”

“That I could,” Fitz clarified. “You had utter faith in me, even in there, and I used that as a weapon against you. Even after watching my father do the exact same thing – “

“That wasn’t real -”

“I still watched it. And I feared it. But I did it. And now I know I have it in me to do it again and I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life. Anything, Jemma. Do you understand that?”

“I think I’m starting to,” Jemma promised. “I’m certainly trying to. And I’m sorry for what you’re going through. You’re a good man and you don’t deserve to be so afraid of yourself.”

“How can you say that to me?” Fitz demanded, breathless, beating his chest as if he could rip the agony out somehow. “How can you believe that, after what h-he did to you – knowing that he’s inside me, knowing that he’s part of me. How can you feel safe with me after that?”

“I love you. I trust you,” Jemma assured him. “And I know that you don’t want to hurt me. Look at yourself. You had a nightmare and now you can barely even look at me. You’re beating yourself up – literally. That’s not a man who thrives on the power of abuse.”

His hand curled and lowered like a frightened flower and he looked at her with wide eyes. There were still questions on his lips. But at least he was no longer hitting himself.

“Fitz,” Jemma insisted. “I’m under no illusions that you don’t have an aggressive streak, or a dramatic one, and you shouldn’t be either, but that doesn’t mean you’re a Hydra ringleader who tortures puppies in his spare time! I promise. Not as a doe-eyed woman in love with you, but as your friend, and as an agent who has served by your side during the best and most difficult ten years of our lives. I promise, you are a good man. You are struggling with a violence that was trained into you by a life that you don’t even have, but I believe you can overcome it, and find balance.”

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t want balance. If balance means embracing the Doctor, I don’t want it.”

“I don’t think you can be rid of him entirely. He’s not a cancer,” Jemma warned. “You can’t cut him out, burn him out, or rip him out. You have to come to terms with him somehow.”

“Not like this,” Fitz growled.

“Then how?”

He clenched a fist, infuriated and stressed by her challenge, and Jemma felt a shot of fear run, ice-cold through her veins. She hated herself for it immediately, but a flinch was a flinch.

Fitz stood up. She’d half expected her flinch to send him into a panic, and maybe it had, but he didn’t get as flustered about it as he used to. He paced the small space between her and the tent, massaging his hand like he used to even though his cramps were much more rare these days.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he insisted, near frantic. “I did not train for this, I was not born for this. This comes from the memories of a complete bastard of a man, who I hate with every fibre of my being. It’s not a bloody superpower, Jemma, I’m not finding the good in something potentially dangerous. You’re asking me to accept abusive behaviours trained into me by an abusive man and a para-bloody-Nazi organisation. To use them when I think it’s necessary. Like when, hm? Like when I get a little too curious? Like when my best friend is beaten to a bloody pulp and I think it’s worthwhile to hit her again. MY BEST FRIEND- ”

He reined in his voice and his hand movements, but the tears were streaming freely down his face now. He remembered more from the Framework than he ever cared to think of again and the fact that he’d spent so long in his own head about it, never daring to speak to the others, had only made it worse.

Watching the anguish pour out of him in such raw form, Jemma couldn’t help but cry too. Between remembering what Fitz was talking about, and watching him tear out his own soul, and noticing the line in the sand he had formed while pacing and dared not cross – for fear, no doubt, of being close to her while this explosively angry – it was almost too much.

“I beat Daisy,” he continued desperately. “I tried to kill you, I tortured our friends to death. I know I didn’t know them, or you, or whatever, but I shouldn’t be able to do that. And apparently, I did it all because I was as in love with Aida as I should have been with you. What would I do if you asked me to then, hm? And believe it or not I don’t actually want to destroy the whole world to save your life. Which, knowing our luck, might actually happen one day - that’s a real choice that I might actually, non-hyperbolically have to face!”

“… Fitz…” Jemma shook her head. It was all she could say. She could hardly breathe – her whole body felt numb. She was even a little bit grateful that she’d started this conversation sitting down, because she wanted to run but she was sure her legs wouldn’t work at this point. God, she wanted to run. Away? To him?

Yet she could only watch him pace.

“And – and what kind of man would I be to let a woman with that mind, with those desires, control me?” Fitz fretted. “The Doctor was a horrible, horrible man, and if he wasn’t me, you would’ve let Ward take the shot, wouldn’t you?”

Sharp eyes pierced through Jemma’s shaken numbness. She remembered pleading with Ward to save him. A torturing, murdering, scum of the earth Hydra crime lord with Fitz’s face. And Fitz’s soul, or so he seemed to believe. How astoundingly awful it must be to believe that.

“I…” she stammered, helpless. “I…”

“Well?” Fitz curled his arms into his chest, gesturing to himself with such passionate contempt it made Jemma’s stomach turn. “I am me, so what guarantee do I have that you would stop me?”

“Fitz!” Jemma yelped, her voice cracked with tears as the numbness fell away. She stood up – on shaky legs, but she stood. And jabbed a finger toward him for good measure. “STOP IT. You are not that monster and do you know why? Because in there, you didn’t have a choice. Aida forced you down a path that brought out the worst in you because it was convenient for her, but you’re free of that now and you have a choice and you would always choose not to hurt me. That’s why. You’d rather die than hurt me. Or Daisy. And as for the world? Well, I’m sure you’d make the right choice if it really came down to it and you have my blessing. I’m not worth the world. In fact, if you destroy the world to save me I shall be quite put out.”

Neither of them laughed. Or smiled. Or anything.

Jemma clenched her jaw, trying to ride this wave of determined concerned fury until it’s very end before she softened.

“You are not destined to be an abuser,” she continued, “whether your father was one or not. You’re not destined to fall down a slippery slope, back to the ‘Dark side’ or what have you. You and your bloody fatalism Fitz will you just think for a moment and believe in yourself!”

“That’s not what you said about Ward,” Fitz replied darkly. “Why am I different?”

There it was, the fury faded. Burnt out like a match in the wind. Jemma’s eyes scanned the snow for a moment, as she fought all the flooding memories back until she could remember one thing. Just one thing.

“You want to know why I couldn’t forgive Ward?”

“Yes. I do.”

“There’s a lot to it –“

“I know –“

“But I suppose it comes down to something you said.”

Fitz blinked, and the stormclouds in his eyes seemed to clear. He still had a heaviness, a sorrow to him, but the seething self-loathing had been knocked off kilter for just a moment.

“You gave him a choice,” Jemma continued. “You said –“

“You can choose right now to be good.”

The words spilled from Fitz’s tongue as if he were right in the moment all over again. He remembered the fear in those words, and in watching Ward betray them, but he also remembered what he’d been hoping would happen. That Ward would put down his gun, sneak him and Simmons off the plane, give everything back and apologise. Come home, set it right, have dinner and be welcomed back into the fold – the prodigal son. It seemed so fantastical now, knowing what Ward had become, but the severity of that fork in the road was enough to give Fitz hope. If he could be a man as horrible as the Doctor, what lay down the other extreme? What about all the paths in the middle?

“Ward knew what path he was walking down,” Jemma continued. “And you know the Doctor’s path now. Plus, Aida should serve as a warning about hidden traps along the way, too. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, isn’t that what they say? But I believe you can, and you will, choose to do good, and whatever role the Doctor does or does not play in that is up to you. I’ll support you if you want to pull out of the field, or even out of Shield and go work in a toyshop or something for the rest of your life. I don’t mind if you never want to raise a hand against anyone ever again. But I also know that we’re fighting a good fight here and a little extra firepower wouldn’t go amiss. It’s up to you. Not me. Not Aida. You.”

With her last words, she took three great steps toward him, and he was so transfixed that he barely moved except to hold his breath when, at the end of it, she put a hand over his heart. Face streaked with tears, Fitz blinked down at her, hardly able to believe the tender touch and how aggressively he’d been denying it to himself for so long.

“You have no idea how much I want to believe that,” he whispered.

“One day,” Jemma promised, “you will.”

[blackbeerandcoffeemovies]

Krampus

*sigh* A magical spirit of slouch came over me this holiday season. . .  

I suppose it’s not totally surprising. Food and drink making you feel lazy and bloated. Meeting-up with relatives and acquaintances you really have no interest talking to, not to mention having to commute to those places for the festivities. SPENDING. Gift-hunting, or at least giving the impression of having thought about one’s gift. Then comes the inevitable post-holiday crash of having to go back to reality. Oh, and then finding out you SPENT WAY TOO MUCH. 

Might as well go with the flow then! 

Rather than just going with the usual and predictable “feel good” classics, I simply immersed myself into a dark Christmas horror flick packaged in a quaint, modern cautionary tale of dismissing the Christmas spirit and its consequences, served dysfunctional family-style!   

But first, some enlightening history: according to certain European myths and folk beliefs, Santa Claus has a sort of “Version 2.0” but the evil kind. Krampus was said to be a goat-like (don’t they all?) demon who you certainly don’t want to get a visit from. While Santa gives away gifts and good cheer to children, Krampus does the wicked opposite: he beats the bad kids and the absolute worst ones, he kidnaps and tortures in hell! Knowing this, I am quite thankful for the fact that I was always a good kid when I was young AND I live here in Asia where hairy goat demons don’t like the humid tropical climate (wink, wink).     

As this film came out in 2015, director Michael Dougherty’s body of work mostly centered on writing and directing for the horror and superhero genres. To date, his last major project was the mega-monster bash Godzilla: King of the Monsters. His earlier horror project, 2008’s Trick ‘r Treat did get him some attention. He strikes me as someone who has good story-telling sense and it does show in this movie. There’s even an animated flashback scene that you know is designed to appeal to the younger set (watch out for it!). 

Krampus reminds me very much of the kind of movies that I grew up with back in the 1980’s. Now, before I tune out some of the younger set with another “nostalgia spasm”, movies those days such as Gremlins, The Lost Boys and Labrynth infuse a certain approachable levity to themes that could have taken a more serious tone or intent. Those were the days when films could be edgy enough for kids and at the same time won’t make grown adults fall asleep out of sheer boredom. This was definitely one of those movies. The “chaos” captured in the opening scene really sets the pace of the film with some subtle commentary built-in about the state of the season today.   

So where to start with the carnage, er, I meant setting? It’s the annual  Christmas reunion for an upper-middle-class family in the suburbs. Because of the festive mood, everyone got along swimmingly of course. . . 

No, not really! That would be a tad boring now, wouldn’t it? 

Between the wealth gap, sibling tensions, politics, odious cousins, and a dose of pre-adolescent anger management issues, the Christmas spirit looks to be in a coma with no signs of waking up anytime soon. A breaking point happens when a key character finally *snaps*, serving as an invitation for the dark forces to unleash Yule terror. Krampus also has a cadre of grotesque elves, carnivorous dolls, and murderous playthings gleefully wreaking havoc in the middle of a Ragnarok-level snowstorm!         

The casting choices were superb, meshed together in a wonderfully comedic patchwork. The standouts specifically for me were Emjay Anthony as the “son” linchpin character who brought down this whole mess on their heads. Toni Colette, talented as ever, portrays the perfect-suburban-multi-tasking-wife archetype who could give Martha Stewart a run for her money. There’s even an aunt character with no filter control for the words coming out of her mouth (you know that kind of relative because you probably have one!) played in perfect deadpan form by Conchita Farrel. 

This movie certainly won’t give you any cheerful, life-affirming, tender feelings within your heart. The thing is, it’s really not supposed to. As I’ve previously mentioned, it’s a cautionary tale. What is pleasant about the film though, is that it was crafted in a way that you are NOT stuck with this gnawing kind of terror, but still engaged in the story and invested in the characters. This is where it derives its charm. 

If you haven’t seen it though, that ending. . . quite an ending. I don’t know if Dougherty was trying to wrap the movie with a surprise twist, but it worked, just not in a grandiose way that M. Night Shymalan would have done in his films.   

Yes, please re-watch it again. 

[longforgottenunofficial]

Ravens and One-Eyed Cats, Oh My!

The unseen Ghost Host acts as a sort of ambassador, a go-between, someone equally able to speak to us in the mortal realm as well as to his fellow spirits (presumably).  Other than a few directives from the Cast Member Butlers and Maids, telling us to get to the center of the stretching gallery, the GH is our only narrator and guide.  He never really tells us what his motivation is in taking us on this little tour.  Right up until the end of the ride, you don't know if he's good or evil. We're so used to this arrangement by now that we forget that doing it this way was a choice.  As it turns out, it was a choice made only a few months before the Haunted Mansion opened.  Some of the rejected alternatives would have made for a very different ride experience if they had been implemented.  One of these is fairly well known and has left traces behind in the ride.  There is another one, far less well-known, which has left nothing behind.  One thing they have in common is that both of them add an additional character who interacts with both the Ghost Host and with you, the rider. Very different chemistry.  This was not a trivial decision, as we'll see. The Raven Died in the wool Mansionites know a lot about this character, so if you're one of those, and you're impatient, you might scroll down to the Cat section, which includes stuff you've never seen, I promise. Riders can hardly help noticing that there is a raven which accompanies them throughout the ride, starting with the Conservatory scene and ending at the entrance to the crypt at the end of the graveyard scene.  There are five all together, but they are all supposed to be the same character.  All it does is caw at us.  Especially at DL, particular attention is drawn to it as we descend into the graveyard.  Despite having our focus obviously directed at it at that point, we're gettin' bird noises and that's it.

Originally, the WDW raven sat on the branch right above you too, as you tilted back, but due to "guest abuse" it was moved back and put on a branch well off to the side.  Ketchup packets, I imagine. Caw-caw.  At least the bird sounds real.  According to Stacia Martin (The Sounds of Disneyland [Disney, 2005] 31), he was voiced by "Candy" Candido, best known as the go-to guy for basso profundo in cases where even Thurl Ravenscroft couldn't get low enough.  (Candy must have had freakin' bridge cables for vocal cords.)  What is less well-known is that Candy was extraordinarily versatile and could do very high voices as well.  The same source says that Candy did the raven in Sleeping Beauty and simply hauled out his raven cry again ten years later for the Mansion. Be that as it may, originally there were going to be several more ravens, including one in the stretching room and one in the foyer.  (You can read about the latter one HERE).  This was still going to be the case going into the spring of 1969.  The raven was going to talk to you, along with the unseen Ghost Host.  The 1968 show script which provided the basis for the "Story and Song from the Haunted Mansion" album preserves a lot of the raven's dialogue.  The bird criticizes the stretchroom advice given by the GH ("He chose the coward's way! Caw-caw").  I guess the GH is a little miffed, because shortly afterwards he responds by warning you that the raven is a possessed creature, and its "restless spirit" may be looking for an opportunity to "better itself."  This bickering leaves you wondering which (if either) of these voices from regions beyond should be trusted.  But the raven is also the one who warns you about the ghostly hitchhikers at the end, so by that point you have probably come to trust the little guy.  He even calls you "my friends," so you see?  He cares.  I guess there was no caws for concern.  (Oh shut up; it's my blog.) The eerie raven first appears in a Ken Anderson concept sketch.  Marc Davis liked it and kept it, and it seems that there was never a time when it wasn't going to be part of the show.

Is the talking raven taken from the famous Edgar Allan Poe poem?  If we're speaking of an indirect influence, the answer is an easy yes.  Poe is indeed responsible for adding the raven to the short list of recognized Halloween critters (bats, spiders, black cats, owls).  But even in a direct sense, the answer is yes.  In an early script, the raven warns us about itself (huh?) and the hitchhikers, with "nevermore's" and "evermore's" sprinkled everywhere.  The lines were recorded at one point by the incomparable Eleanor Audley (Lady Tremaine, Maleficent, Madame Leota).  Warning!  If you're an admirer of Ms. Audley's work (yes, yes, I see those hands), this excerpt is painful to listen to.  But we historians cannot afford the luxury of pity. Beware of Eleanor's Raven, Forevermore [Audio Link]

Oh geesh, that was bad.  Anyway, it proves that X. Atencio was directly influenced by "The Raven" when he tried to script the character.  One problem with the raven—besides being annoying—was that it was too small to command your attention in some of the larger scenes.  Maybe a bigger animal would work.  Let's see...no, you can't have an elephant in a haunted house.  How about a black cat?  More specifically, how about an Edgar Allan Poe-inspired black cat? The One-Eyed Black Cat "The Black Cat" is one of Poe's better known tales, often anthologized, and read in many a high school English class.  If you've forgotten how it goes, here's a severely abbreviated summary: The narrator had a beloved black cat for a pet, but one day in a fit of alcoholic rage he gouges out its eye with a knife.  Later on, guilt at the sight of the one-eyed black cat turns to resentment and he kills the animal.  Later he finds (or is found by) another one-eyed black cat and takes it as a pet.  In yet another one of his fits of rage he murders his wife and walls her up in the cellar.  When the police investigate, however, the narrator is betrayed by the howling of the cat inside the wall, where it had been walled up with the corpse. A much creepier Poe animal than the raven, certainly.  Most Mansion fans know about the existence of the one-eyed black cat only from a couple of Paul Frees outtakes, in which he tries out his note-perfect Bela Legosi and Peter Lorre voices while using a revised HM script.  Dude, when Count Dracula sees fit to warn you about a kitty, it must be one bad motorscooter. Ghost Host Bela warns you about a nasty cat [Audio Link]

Ghost Host Peter warns you about it too [Audio Link]

As you can gather from those, X's cat was much scarier and more demonic than his raven.  None of the cat's dialogue has survived, but X did a series of concept sketches.  The notion that the cat would be co-narrator may even predate the notion of putting the earlier raven character into that specific role.  It looks as if the black cat might first manifest itself at first as nothing more than an eye:

Apparently, the eye would morph into a shiny point of laser-like light, and a cat face would appear with only one eye.  The first eye you saw turns out to be the missing one.  From the looks of it, this loud and angry feline is looking for more than just a Little Friskies num-num.

The morphing continues, and the face rots into a more human form.  Not surprisingly, this does nothing to improve its mood.

Good Lord.  And how was this thing going to be presented?  A projection?  That isn't clear.  It's possible that the "cat" was going to just pop out unexpectedly along the way in its various stages of demonic materialization.  The face above looks a lot like a blast-up head in another X concept sketch.  A quick look at some actual blast-up heads (inset) confirms that this is what the artwork is about.

So maybe our creepy "cat" was going to jump out and surprise us here and there throughout the ride.  Good Lord. When neither the demonic one-eyed black cat nor the "nevermore"-squawking raven ended up being used, the HM lost its only clear Edgar Allan Poe allusions (although you could make a case for a Tell-Tale Heart allusion in the bride's beating heart).  It would have been nice if someone had told the composer of this WDW pre-opening publicity poster that the Haunted Mansion could no longer be accurately described as "Edgar Allan Poe-styled."

The black cat was a short-lived idea, with good reason.  By having the Ghost Host warn you about a clearly malicious and dangerous creature like this one, he cast himself into the role of protector.  He was there to help you.  Similarly, in the 1968 script, the GH graciously informs you at the outset that you will not be harmed.  That's very decent of him. Too decent.  Who wants Santa Claus for a Ghost Host?  A haunted house is an allegory of life itself.  You enter here and you exit there, and in between is a dark twisted corridor filled with frightening sights.  You may get advice along the way, but you never have quite enough evidence to be sure that those voices have your best interest at heart.  Do you really want to go into that haunted house that the neighbor kid put up in his garage for Halloween—the one who's a minor league juvenile delinquent the rest of the year? Enter if you dare. The Haunted Mansion is no different than any thirteen-year-old's spook house, and it's no different from life.  Once you're in, you don't know if the Host is benign or malicious, so you have no choice but to go ahead, even with insufficient data.  When you're stuck in a haunted house, the secret is to not panic and to keep your wits about you and to just keep going.  If you do that, you're likely to make it. Kinda like life. So the trouble with the villainous black cat is that it made the Ghost Host much too unambiguously a good guy.  It's important that he make you a little nervous, a little unsure. What was the trouble with the raven, then, aside from being a tad too small?  With the cat, we had a bad guy co-narrator and a good guy main narrator.  With the talking raven, we had a morally ambiguous co-narrator along with a morally ambiguous Ghost Host.  At first, you don't really know if either of them can be trusted.  But in that case, why do you need two narrators?  The real problem with the raven was that it was redundant.  Turn off its dialogue and give its few substantive comments to the GH, and ta da, nothing is changed.  Just make sure the GH never really tells you what he's up to. .

Originally Posted: Wednesday, July 28, 2010 Original Link: [x]