#first one i got started fuckin glowing and my mom and i just stared at it until it stopped

[homestuck--edits]

some davenep for us davenep fans in the back

-Mod Becsprite

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 110

1997.

I go into the kitchen for a drink. Seph turns down the music a little bit now that we’re not actively fucking. I still feel hazy and loose. It’s comfortable. It’s like I’m living in a warm sock.

I’m shirtless with just my dog-tags and boxer briefs on. I get distracted with the carton of apple juice in my hand and drag my fingertips down my chest. Fuck. I gotta set a timer so I can go at it again. Or maybe Seph will pass out and I’ll just jerk off...

I take a long drink. I can feel it go down my throat into my stomach. Right now, the feeling is delightful. I was so thirsty. Fuck. I go to put the juice down and nearly miss the counter. Back out...

Out in the living room, Seph is sprawled out on the couch with a towel over his crotch. His eyes are half open, slits that reveal the glow of his turquoise eyes.

It’s electric.

Ten minutes ago, he was fucking me like that in an old company shirt, cut off like a croptop. The crease in his brow from concentration, the glow in his eyes as he pushed

into

me

over

and over.

“Mmm.” I shudder.

I can just see his gaze flick over to me. “What?”

“Nothin’,” I reply with a smirk. “You’re hot.”

He makes a noise that would have probably been taken like a snort, but he barely moves. “I know,” he says.

I pace around. I’m starting to get hungry. On the couch, Seph and I share a brainwave and his hand falls on his stomach. “I’m hungry,” he voices.

I’m going to tease him. “You mean you didn’t eat before you came over?” I say. I strut over and cross my arms, shaking my head. “Rookie mistake.”

The room spins a bit, but I stay on my feet. When I open my eyes, he’s got that “fuck you” look on his face that I relish. He’s too lost in it to make any moves, but I can imagine him giving me the bird.

I bend over and grab the bowl from beside my storage chest and sacred beanbag throne. If I focus, I can get the bag of weed too. “Tell you what,” I say. “Smoke this with me, and we’ll get delivery.”

“Gen,” he groans. “Why...”

“I don’t have any fuckin’ food here, you know that.” I pack the bowl clumsily, but well. This isn’t my first time around. “So, what do you want?”

He stares up at the ceiling. “Anything...at this point.”

“Pizza?”

“Not pizza.”

“That’s not anything, then.”

“Pedantic son of a bitch.”

I grin. I light the bowl and take the first hit, smoke clouding my face. “How about Mexican? I know a good spot.”

“They...deliver?”

“No.” I pass him the bowl. He stares at me, then begrudgingly takes it. “But I can bribe a Turk who will.”

Seph cocks his head. “Huh?”

“Smoke.” I wave my hand at him and stumble back toward the kitchen. “I got this.”

My phone sits on the edge of the counter, and I pick up the whole thing and lean against the door frame. I cradle the receiver on my shoulder and dial. I’ve got a sticky note taped to it with numbers I need to remember. Angeal, Sephiroth, HQ, Gillian (scratched out, now defunct), Seph’s mom...and one last number, the one I’m dialing.

Ring, ring.

He picks up pretty readily. “Y’ello?” he answers.

“Yo, Reno,” I say. “Alone on a Friday night?”

“Dude, c’mon,” he whines. “I got stood up last week, I’m taking it easy.”

I was half expecting him to say he was dying his hair this week. I’ve seen him more than once in Wall Market trying to pick up women of the night. If he’s down there, there’s no way that he’s straight. Not sure if he knows it or not.

“Cool, then you can do me a favor,” I say.

“I ain’t doing shit for you.”

“I’ll pay you $200 to go over to The Taqueria and get me two take out bags full of whatever they’ve got.”

“Jesus Christ...” He’s thinking about it, though. His voice drops to a murmur. “...only if you throw me a joint.”

“Get your own fuckin’ dealer!” The thought of melted cheese over ground beef and spices is making me salivate though. “Fine, I’ll roll you something.”

“Done. I’m coming over now.”

“No, no, no, you get paid when you have the goods.”

“And make me pay for it? Fuck off.”

Shit, forgot about that. “Right. Fine, come over.”

He hangs up on me. I kick our strewn clothes over behind the couch, out of sight of the door. I toss Seph a shirt. “Put something on, our delivery boy’s coming over.”

He took another hit while I wasn’t looking, so he’s in very slow motion. I don’t know if he was even listening. I grab my jeans and yank them on, just as he starts knocking on my door.

“One sec,” I say. “Did you run over?”

“Dude, I’m just down the hall.”

My wallet’s still in there, and I dig it out and position myself in the doorway so I can hide Seph. He will not want to be reminded of this on Monday.

I open the door. It should be a week where he does his hair, his roots are showing. He grins. “Yo,” he says, then coughs. “Man, you really...know how to party, huh?”

I roll my eyes and shove some bills in his hand. “Get some of everything, that should be enough,” I say. “If you’re quick, you can keep the change.”

“Sure. Sector 3 right?”

“Yup.”

He attempts to peer around me. “Oh, hey--”

I block his view. I don’t want to imagine Seph’s fury if Reno saw his ass out in my apartment. “Don’t even think about it,” I say.

“Ooookay, later!”

I slam the door in his face as he leaves. As I spin and lean against it, Seph does have a shirt on, but as predicted, his dick is out. His eyes are sewed shut and head back toward the ceiling.

“Fuck...” he whispers.

Yeah, he’s not on this planet.

“Food’ll be here soon,” I say.

“Mmmm....”

I stare at his now flaccid dick. Wonder if he’s ready to get it up again...

(G.)

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Oh Baby!

(baby!Tommy x motherly!Reader)

(lets see if this gets any attention. if it does i’ll see about doing other characters as babies! maybe wilbur or techno lol.)

--------

You were minding your own business, just relaxing at home in L’Manburg with a good book and some of your favorite drink. But the peace and quiet was all at once interrupted by frantic knocking at your front door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the front entrance, wondering as you got up who in the world could be knocking so hard on the door.

You cautiously went over and raised an eyebrow when you heard… crying and then the sound of someone running away? Now more confused than ever you tentatively cracked the door open and looked around but didn’t see anyone. Though the crying was still close and when you looked down your eyes widened at the sight of a covered basket sitting innocently on your front porch. 

The crying slowed to only whimpers but it was definitely coming from the basket and you hurried to pull the door open all the way and lean down to check the abandoned basket. But you hesitated when you saw a slip of paper stuffed in the side of it. You pulled it out and quickly read it, and felt your stomach drop when you read out loud,

“Reader. IDK what happened. Tommy and I were dungeon hunting and there were skeletons shooting at us and he didn’t have a shield and got hit with a tipped arrow of some kind and then he turned into a baby. I can’t handle kids but you seem like you could. Don’t worry, it should wear off eventually. But don’t tell Philza, he’ll probably kill me. -Quackity.”

You let out a confounded ‘what the fuck?!’ then finally pulled the blanket off the basket and froze when you looked into a VERY familiar pair of bright blue eyes. Only instead of being on a teen boy’s face they were on a little baby’s face. A baby face that was streaked with tears. Your shocked face softened when you saw how distressed the little guy was. Without thinking about it too hard you reached down and scooped the little bundle up into your arms.

Tommy stared up at you with his wide watery blue eyes and sniffled before whimpering again. You cooed at him and began to rock him in your arms, trying to soothe his distress as best you could. 

“Oh no baby, shhh, it’s okay. I’m here. C’mon, let’s get you inside,” you said as you brought him and the basket in. 

You noticed he wasn’t actually wearing anything and the only thing keeping him covered was the blanket he’d arrived in. So first things first you crafted him some cloth diapers and got him cleaned up and changed. Then you held him up in front of you and smiled while you baby talked to him.

“Oh there we go! All dressed huh? Not nakey no more!”

Tommy giggled and kicked his chubby little legs and reached for your face. You pulled him close so he was snuggled to your chest and he instantly used one hand to grab some of your hair, but thankfully he didn’t yank on it and just held it. While his other hand patted your face while he babbled.

You wondered if Tommy could understand you, or if he had any memories of before he was turned into a baby. Then you wondered how long he’d be like this, or… if he’d go back to normal at all. But when Tommy started fussing you let those thoughts drift to the back of your mind so you could take care of him, for as long as he needed you.

-0-

Turns out he’d been hungry so you’d warmed him up some milk, which he’d more than eagerly drank til there was nothing left. Then you’d had to burp him, which was cute and thankfully he’d not thrown up on you at any point. He was a cute little baby but nobody wants baby barf on them.

But now you were playing with him on the carpet, doing the ‘this little piggy’ game on his toes (which he apparently loved more than anything) and each time you’d recite a line about a ‘piggy’ you’d wiggle one of his toes. He was giggling and watching you with bright eyes, knowing when you got to the last piggy you’d tickle his feet. 

You played with him well into mid day, but then you noticed him getting fussy again. And he’d eaten not too long ago so you doubted he was hungry again. You also checked his diaper but he was clean, which meant he was sleepy. So you scooped him up and started walking to your bedroom, rubbing his back and telling him it was nap time. He continued to fuss as you closed the curtains and shut off the lamp. There was still enough light to where you could see but it was dim enough to make sleeping easier.

You got into bed and laid on your side and nestled him so he was on his back with his head laying in the crook of your arm, making sure he was between you and the wall for safety. He didn’t want to sleep it seemed because he started whining and kicking his feet, clearly upset. But you shushed him and hummed to try and get him to settle down. It didn’t work though and he continued to fuss. You sighed and thought back to how your mom said she got you to go to sleep. 

So you turn him on his side so he was facing you and then start to gently run your nails up and down his back in a soft scratch. Your mom swore by this, it could put any baby to sleep. And true to her word the moment you started scratching Tommy’s back his eyelids drooped and he yawned. Soon his eyes closed all the way but you kept scratching until you could tell his breathing had evened out. 

You stopped scratching and waited a minute to see if he’d wake up or stir at all, but luckily he stayed sleeping. You brushed his honey colored hair from his face and kissed his forehead then slowly inched out of the bed. You’d have napped too but you had chores that needed to be done that you were supposed to do earlier but couldn’t because of Tommy’s surprise visit. 

After successfully getting out of bed you surrounded Tommy with pillows to keep him from rolling off the bed and hurting himself. Then you silently crept from the room and cracked the door behind you so you could keep an ear out while he slept in case he woke up.

-0-

You managed to tend to your garden and harvest the carrots and potatoes without trouble, then handle your laundry, but it was when you were washing dishes that you heard it. Tommy wailing. You dropped the dish you’d been washing into the sink of soapy water then practically sprinted upstairs to your bedroom. You were cursing yourself for not putting more pillows around him, fearing he’d fallen and banged his head or something.

But when you burst into your bedroom you let out an audible breath of relief when you saw he was still safely on the bed and not the floor. You hurried over, cooing at him as he saw you and raised his arms up towards you, making grabby hands to show he definitely wanted to be picked up. You happily obliged him and lifted him into your hold and kissed his wet cheeks and lovingly rubbed his back while he calmed down from his crying.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry, did you wake up all alone? I’m sorry, I’m here, don’t worry~” you murmured sweetly against his crown.

He clutched onto your neck and refused to let go, but you didn’t try to pull him away, instead you just rocked him and took him downstairs to be with you so he wouldn’t cry anymore. You were starting to get hungry and you knew seeing you eat would make Tommy hungry so you decided to warm him up some milk while you prepped some carrot sticks for yourself. You figure if he wanted some of your food a carrot would be the safest option for him to gnaw on.

But while you were standing at the kitchen sink filling a glass with water for yourself you glanced over when Tommy hiccupped and saw him blink as potion swirls hovered around him. Before you could see what was wrong he hiccupped again and suddenly the weight sitting on your hip was MUCH heavier and you stumbled a bit before realizing the blue eyes you were looking at were sitting on a teen boy’s face and not a baby’s…

All at once it hit you both that Tommy was naked save for the underwear he was in (how’d his diaper turn into tighty whities?) and you were holding him up on your hip. Once it hit him he screamed and flailed until you let go of him and he fell to the floor. You wanted to laugh but asked him if he was okay instead. Or you tried to but he screeched,

“DON’T FUCKIN’ LOOK!! I’M NAKED!!”

You turned your head away from him but you could see him scrambling to his feet and trying in vain to cover himself with just his hands. You helpfully directed him to the bathroom and said you’d bring him some clothes to change into. A second later you heard your bathroom door slam closed and you finally broke out into snickers. Once you composed yourself you went to grab some spare clothes of yours from your bedroom. 

You knocked on the bathroom door and passed the clothes through, not taking offense when Tommy quickly slammed the door closed after getting the shirt and pants. But once he was dressed he came out with a red face and looking huffy. You asked him if he remembered anything and he grumbled before swearing.

“Well fuckin’ Quackity and I were exploring this weird dungeon and there was a hidden spawner or somethin’ because suddenly we were trapped with like 7 skeletons and they were shooting these weird glowing arrows at us. An my shield broke and I got hit by one. Then… I don’t know, it’s blurry after that..”

He would never admit that he remembered everything from when he was a baby. He remembered how you looked after him, soothed his cries, and just loved him. He couldn’t remember anyone ever caring for him so nicely before. Ever. Not even Philza was that loving and he was his dad pretty much. But saying anything like that out loud would be humiliating! So he faked remembering nothing. 

You shrugged and filled him in briefly, saying he’d been a baby for the day and you’d made sure he didn’t die. He gave an embarrassed ‘thanks i guess’ but you just grinned and said you’d never let anything bad happen to your “widdle baby~!”. Tommy’s face flushed red and he sputtered angrily and started shouting that he wasn’t no BABY! He was a MAN! You just laughed and agreed, yes yes, very macho.

Things returned mostly to normal, though if your relationship shifted ever so closer in a familial way after that then neither of you mentioned it. But truthfully Tommy grew quite attached to you and you to him. Like the family you both weren’t aware you’d needed.

[cuppimagines]

Demon Raian x Nun Reader (NSFW)

BASED ON A REQUEST, that was long overdo. I should probably post shorter things to fill up space in this blog between bigger stuff like this content. But regardless I hope you enjoy

The air got cold, the basement was in total darkness, and you were alone with the thing that was stalking you. The warm breath that brushed against your neck caused you to jump, and hold out your rosary in fright.

“Do you really believe that would work on me?” The voice echoed, in a way where it always sounded inches from your face. Your entire body shook and your breathing got faster.

“You nuns like to believe being in the house of “god” makes you safe,” the voice said. “That nothing unholy could come in...and yet I’m here, here to take my prey...” just behind you, you could feel a warm glow, and without moving your body, turned your head to look at it. Bright red skin, gnarled horns, and claws that looked like they could tear at your flesh like you were slow cooked meat. The sight of this man kept you frozen for fear of what he could do if you moved. But there was a strange sense of curiosity also welling up inside you seeing that the demon was completely bare. No clothing, his muscular body and large cock in full view for you to see.

“You’ve been silent since I’ve been down here...” he grinned, a wicked demonic grin. “How about, you tell me your name, and I tell you mine. So we can start to get to know each other~!”

“M-my name is sister (y/n)...” you mumble.

“Good, good sweetheart,” the demon walked in front of you, staring you down as he licked his lips like you were a fresh meal presented to him.

“You can call me Raian, gorgeous,” he started walking to you, and as he took one step forward, you took a step back. Up until you were pressed to a wall, legs trembling.

“What- what are you here for?” You asked.

“I know what you want,” Raian grinned, resting his hand against the wall while glaring down at you. “I know you’re not devoted to all this bullshit. You’re only here because you had nowhere else to turn. But I could be your ticket out of this boring place, and all I want is one thing.”

“I, don’t think I want to give up my soul to-“ Raian held a finger up, and his wicked grin turned to more of a humored expression as he burst into laughter.

“Oh good god you humans are cute,” he snickered. “No, no, I don’t want that bullshit. I wanna fuck you.” You’d be pissed off at being mocked, but after hearing what he wanted, you were taken aback, but he was right. You weren’t devoted to the church out of any moral obligation. This was your only choice if you didn’t want to live on the streets to fend for yourself.

“Fuck me and I’ll make you mine,” Raian said. “It’s about time I found a cutie like yourself to breed my spawn into. I’ll make you something fantastic if you decide to do this. If not, I'll leave you alone, and simply find another pretty young mortal to give me my spawn.” You squeezed your legs tight together, and bit your lower lip in contemplation. Until, you slowly and meekly nodded. Even though you wanted this, and wanted a life from the church, you were still a virgin, mostly out of not being able to find anybody to lose your virginity to. So part of you was nervous to have sex for the first time, let alone with a demon.

“Good answer,” Raian grinned a wicked grin, and pulled you closer by the robes. He was staring at you, licking his lips in excitement to see what your body looked like underneath. You heard the sounds of your clothes tearing like paper in Raian’s grasp. The cold air hit you so suddenly and combined with the surprise, you let out a small, meek gasp. Raian pushed you down onto a nearby table, and only continued ripping and tearing away at your robes, your hood, your undergarments, until all that was left was scraps lying on the floor.

You felt the innate need to cover yourself up, from the cold and being exposed in front of someone else, so wrapped your arms across your breasts and pressed your legs together.

“Are you freezing?” Raian laughed. “Oh don’t worry baby, that won’t be for long...” you could feel his hands grab your hips, and they were warm, much warmer than a human’s grip, and that made you feel nice...

Raian leaned down, and started to kiss all along your neck and collarbone, each kiss so warm and gentle- at first. You wrapped your arms around him and soaked in the pleasure of his lips on your skin, until you felt a sudden sharp pinch on your shoulder and cried out. When Raian pulled away, a very noticeable bite mark remained there, that had drawn blood.

“Ohh baby you taste so sweet, I just couldn’t resist~!” He chuckled. “I won’t do it again if it hurt too much.”

“A-actually...” you mumbled. “I don’t mind at all, could you keep doing that...?” Those words alone made Raian hard, the thought of peppering your skin in bite marks.

“I knew I was right to pick you!” He immediately started to kiss down your body again, and this time he didn’t hesitate to always leave a mark anywhere he went. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure of your body being explored was both so new and yet it felt so good that you moaned, but tried your best to muffle those sounds by biting your hand. If you were too loud, especially in the dead of night like this, someone could hear you.

“Fucking hell...” Raian cupped your breasts in his large hands, and brought his mouth down to start licking and sucking on your nipple, all while he began to grind his cock against you, now rock hard and excited to just grab you and fuck the god right out of you. It was real hard trying to keep quiet now. His tongue didn’t feel like a normal tongue as it swirled across your nipple. It was longer, and forked at the very end. It was so odd, so inhuman and yet so so amazing at the same time. Your legs pressed against each other, trying to get some friction, and your moans and whimpers only got louder.

“Ohhh~? Not trying hard to be quiet are we now?” Raian stopped, replacing his tongue with his clawed fingers that pinched at your nipple. “I know what you want...” You stared down at his cock and just nodded in response to him, spreading your legs out for him. Raian saw just how soaking wet you were and he licked his lips, savoring the sight of you. Already oh so eager and willing to get a demon’s cock. He started to climb on the table, his body just hovering over yours as he leaned his head down next to your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” he growled in your ear, all before you felt his cock rubbing against your cunt. All before he started thrusting into you inch by agonizing inch. He felt so much bigger than he looked, and your small moans quickly became louder feeling your body stretch to fit his cock and yet clench around him in complete and utter pleasure.

“Ra-Raian ahh...!” You moan. “Oh- oh you’re so big!!!” You then let out a loud whine as he started moving inside you. Oh...! Oh!!! You covered your mouth at this point, you were getting far too loud, and Raian only started to get rougher.

“Goddd you feel so fuckin good!” He growled. “Go on sweetheart I wanna hear that, i know there’s nobody nearby to hear you get fucked by a demon, I wanna hear you scream or I’ll stop!” He grabbed you by the legs tight, and one hard thrust got you screaming.

“Please...! Please I need it!!” You cried out. “Please Raian!!!” You felt his claws dig into your skin enough to draw blood, and Raian licked his lips in excitement after he heard those words. You were lifted up off the table, and he held you close to him. You looked into his eyes and soon pressed his lips against yours, before you felt him pound you like he was trying to break every bone in your lower half.

You wrapped your arms around Raian, and were moaning and whimpering in the kiss. He was so hungry for this...you felt so good, you were so perfect for him, a perfect little lover for him. Raian held onto you tightly, and as you matched your orgasm with him, he came inside you, filling you up in a way that you’ve never felt prior, while holding you in his embrace.

“Fuck...! Fuck...god baby...” Raian panted. Your legs felt shaky, you were sweaty, but you felt so so good.

“Oh baby...” he grinned. “Now that was fun. Alright, a deal’s a deal. Looks like you’re gonna be the mom of a few demons.”

“I-I’d like that, very much...” you tried to gasp for air, and Raian never let go of you. In fact he placed you down as gently as he could, and where he made you bleed, he licked and kissed those areas oh so gently. You felt close to falling asleep right then and there. God...who knew of all the things to give you comfort, you’d never expect a man, or demon like this.

[kri-babe]

A Bad Experience ᅳ Word Count: 2143 Summary: TAKE THE TRASH OUT. Warning: Implied Sexual Assault. Murder.

I was a pretty average kid. I wasn’t excessively popular, but I wasn’t an outcast either. I liked my silence and my own company, but I didn’t mind the company of my friends either. I had my own little pack of misfits that I ran with but we were average kids. We hung out where we could, but it wasn’t all that often between our classes or after school. My best friend in school was… sort of unorthodox, and a lot of people would have probably questioned it, and had my mom been any better, she would’ve told me to stay the fuck away from him.

And with good reason…

Mr. Rhodes was the school janitor; dressed persistently in a dark blue jumpsuit, and jingling whenever he walked because of the keys he carried on his belt. He was a fairly recluse guy, and the other kids thought he was pretty creepy. I think that was because of the fact that he had this weird tendency to turn up in random places, or… maybe it was the scars that mangled the side of his face. Hell, now that I think back on it, it could’ve even just been the vibe he put off. The smile that was just a little too friendly… the dark eyes that were just a little… too happy.

I guess I was a bad read of people…

But for whatever unfortunate reason, I liked Mr. Rhodes… I spoke to him regularly whenever I saw him, treated the guy like he was just another friend of mine. He was friendly enough, and he didn’t treat me like I was just some dumb fuckin’ kid in his way, wasting his time.

I never told him about it, but I think he put it together anyway - the problems back at home. He’d told me one day that I could hide out in the janitor’s closet if I ever needed a place away from everyone else. I hadn’t thought anything of it. Just a friendly gesture from a decent guy everyone overlooked because he had an unsavory job, and scars on his face.

I never once stopped to wonder why he was working at that school, why he was a janitor, and why the other kids avoided him… why the teachers avoided him. I never really thought beyond the idea that they were just mean. That maybe it was pack instinct that kept the flock together, safe in their numbers where the wolf couldn’t easily get to them.

No, I had to be the black sheep - the one that sticks out like a sore thumb, all the easier to snatch.

Too bad I didn’t see his fangs until he found me in the janitor’s closet one day. It’d been a shit day, mom was off her meds, had thrown away some of my stuff because it was ‘Satanic’. I didn’t want to put up with the teachers, nor the other kids, so I hunkered down in that little, cramped closet to just ride the day out. Where the fuck else was I going to go? Home? As if. If only I’d thought of some place else. If only I’d refused to trust him too.

He asked how long I’d been there, and I told him since school started. Guess that meant no one would notice one missing kid. The minute he closed the door, I felt something. A sinking brick in my gut and it only got worse when Mr. Rhodes knelt beside me, rubbed my back and told me that it’d all be okay. He could make it better. … I must’ve been twelve.

I stayed in the closet for the rest of the day. I was too scared to come out until well after school had ended….

I told her anyway. I knew she wouldn’t hear it, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I knew she wouldn’t be on my side. But sometimes… just… sometimes. She was mom. I told her anyway. I felt the strike far before I had seen it coming.

“No son of mine will be an incubus, not in this house. God will excise this evil from you, you pustulant seductor.”

I still have scars from the whipping.

So… what now…

What do you do when your childhood fucking rapist comes into your place of work… and recognizes you…?

“Well, well,” Chimed a familiar, snake-like voice from just a few steps behind.

Alby blinked tiredly a few times, staring at the bleary image of the DVD cases in the cart and in his hands. As per the norm, the night had been slow - Blockbusters wasn’t really what it used to be, and the few customers he did get were often high as hell, and just looking for cheap movies to rent. He’d had maybe one other customer earlier that evening, before he’d set to putting back the returns.

Another blink, Alby slowly frowned as it pushed its way back to the surface - that rotten, fetid trauma he’d buried years ago. The boy straightened, blinking, and turned his head to peer over his shoulder as Rhodes stepped nearer, grinning just like the wolf he’d always been. Alby’s frown hardened as his good eye slowly cleared from the haze of the pot that clouded his head.

“If it isn’t little Alby… and you’ve grown up to be so handsome too… I’m honestly surprised to still see you around, kiddo… I was so sure your mother would be the end of you…” He reached closer, tilting Alby’s chin in his direction with a finger to better see the patch that was taped over the young man’s right eye. “Looks like she might still be,” He smirked, releasing him then, and instead, placed his hand over Alby’s back.

Broad, slender - he’d shot up like a beanstalk since they had last seen each other. Rhodes looked no different somehow, and Alby wasn’t sure how to take that. But the hand over his back summoned something from the depths of his being. A cold sweat broke out over his porcelain skin and Alby could feel a tremble push its way into his arms and fingers.

“So, how’s life been, kiddo…?” Alby frowned again, staring silently at Rhodes. Was this a joke? Was this guy just… playing fucking stupid? Like they’d always been buddy buddy? Like he fucking hadn’t raped him all those years ago? What was this? Was he trying to get cozy with him so he could do it again?

“What’s the matter, Alby~? Cat got your tongue?”

Rhodes’ hand slid lower, and whether that was to withdraw or not didn’t matter anymore when Alby suddenly exploded into motion with a left hook that connected directly with Rhodes’ jaw. He fell like a sack of bricks and Alby stood there in total silence once more - naught but the sound of his own shaky breathing to accompany him as he glared down at Rhodes’ body. He must have hit him just right… and certainly just hard enough, his knuckles protested about it.

Fuck…

What the fuck was he going to do with this fucker… call the police? But for what… a crime he’d committed twelve years ago? This was assault… and he was positive that his boss wasn’t going to be happy about his one fucking employee assaulting a customer…

The walkie-talkie on the back of Alby’s hip crackled and popped, and there it came: his boss’s chipper voice.

“Hey, Al, you there, bud~?”

He’d never seen the guy’s face, but his manager was always so weirdly happy… it was unsettling at best.

“Fuck…” Alby breathed, still shaking as he pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and brought it to his lips, “Y-yeah, what’s up?” Just… be calm. Act normal. Everything was fine. He never even came into the store, and it was late. They were just between the shelves. No one would know.

“Hey, Al, there ya are! Listen, bud!” Popped the walkie.

“Remember what I told you about the trash? Those no-good lay-about trash guys don’t come by anymore, so there’s an incinerator in the basement of the building you can use to take out the trash! It’s pretty big, too, remember? So don’t fall in!”

Alby shook harder, blinking widely.

He was so sure he could hear something else just under his boss’s peppy voice. Something unnatural, just under the static, like worms in the dirt, whispering the earth’s secrets into his ears.

‘T̴̨̥̥̮̖̮̠̰̗͖̘̺͒̂̿̅͠Ā̴̫̖̬̜̝̟̠̥̿͌̃͐ͅK̶̟̻̤̼͇̭̻̗̖̖̮̤̺̺̅̐̐̊̀̅̔̈́͑̔̄̀̕̚͝ͅE̶͔̥̺̩̖͓̗̱͉̤̮̭̲͎̺̫̋͛̋̒̊̄̕ ̶̧̬̙͉̮̦̮̭̘͙͌̈́̈Ţ̶̨̛̛̫͖̙̫̺̘̰̘̳̮̘̞̊̏̅͊͋̍͂̄̅́̌͜͠͠͝ͅH̸̨̟͕͍̝̠̫̔̏̓͘͜͝Ě̶̡̨̨͖̫͚͇͍̰̻̪̭̰̃̈́́̈́̌̇̔̒̂̑́̉̿̓̑͘ͅ ̴̭̮͍̟̩̯̍̉͂̂̒͗̀̈́̐̒͘T̷͓̱͎͔̦̫̲̹̰̠̬̤̹͂R̸̡̹͔͓̳͎̣̗͙̥͙̱̯̂͊̌̽͗̈́̎̅̇͘͝A̴̳̳̤̣͐̑̄͘ͅS̷̩̲͖͒̏́̆̋Ḩ̶͔̥͉̪͓͉͇̠̭̓͋̀͒͘͜ ̸͇͎̘̮̀̊͐̈͋̽̑̇̔̄̋̈́͜͝͠Ơ̷̡̳̰̳͈͙̙̞͔̹̦͍͋̋̑̿̿͂̾̊̀̓͑̎̕̕͘̚U̶̅��͔̩̘͖͖̗͚̞̲͓̬̟̥̺̂͑̏́͝͠͝T̸̺̹̤̮̆̓̽̈́̀̒̉͒̄̓̀̒͒͠,̶̪̤̯̖̩̯̘̾̒͊̇̂͂͗̑̂͋͋̈́̏͐̏͜͝ͅ ̶̡̡̣͓̠̭̫̟̫͕̔͆͋̈́̈́̌̊̓̈́̍͌̈́̔̐́̾͜͝A̵̲͓̝͚͚̖͖͙͉̹͍̗̦͙͔̭̞͑͊̃̓̿̑̓̑̾̃͊L̵̨͖̣̜̬̜̮̲̦̞̥̑̓͑̄͌̎̿͛̈́̈̂͝Ḇ̷̯͎̝̮̯͖͈̰͔̦͕̫̭̬̙̉̉̅ͅY̵̡̪̹̲͚̭͈̞͚̆̓͒̍̚͘͝͝͠.̷͚̳̘̜͙̺̝̳̌̀̔̑͒͗̐̌̈̃͌͝͠͝’

Alby swallowed, and looked back down at the body that lay sprawled across the carpeted flooring, lips working to form words he couldn’t find the ability to add noise to.

“Still there, Al!?” He jolted.

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m here. I-I -- I’m on it, boss.” The walkie was hooked back onto his belt and Alby slowly exhaled.

Did he… know…? There was no fucking way this was coincidence. Trash day was usually at the end of the week… it was fucking Tuesday.

Could he do this…?

The basement door swung open, and Alby panted softly, grunting as he readjusted the man draped over his shoulder and slowly began down the steps into the blackness of the basement. There were lights, but the incinerator was often just bright enough that its orange glow was more than enough to light his way. That… beast of a machine. Steel and fire - the belly of a dragon, and the teeth to match.

When he first came to work here, there was no basement. There was no incinerator. There were large trash bins outside that the garbage men would occasionally come get, because the Blockbuster didn’t produce enough trash. Alby was the only employee. But after a time, he’d gotten word from his boss that the garbage men wouldn’t be stopping by anymore. They’d decided the place wasn’t worth the stop anymore, due to how infrequently they had to pick up from it.

The next day, there was a note about the basement. The incinerator. The shop never shut down. There were no construction workers. There was no equipment. No signs that the building had been added onto. It was just… there.

Every step thunked down the stairs as Alby disappeared down into that blackness, and squinted the moment he came around the corner to face the incinerator. It didn’t often make much noise… but it was growling now. Like a ravenous beast, it’s teeth clanking against its jaw in anticipation. Alby hesitated. He often wondered if this fucking thing was alive… the way it acted. But it was so easy for him to chalk it up to the fact that it was probably just funky machinery. He swallowed, and drew nearer, pulling the lever to open the jaws of this hellbeast which roared hungrily, releasing a burning belch of hot air into the basement. Alby squinted against the blast, and stared into those roaring flames.

The weight on his shoulder never felt heavier… and he wasn’t sure he could do this…

The guy… raped him but… this was murder, and no one would ever know…

But they never knew about his rape, either, did they…?

The walkie talkie crackled and popped, fuzzing loudly against the rumbling of the incinerator. There were no words that spilled through the static, and yet… he could hear that distant sound once again. As if there was just… too much interference, or the frequency wasn’t

quite right.

‘T̴̨̥̥̮̖̮̠̰̗͖̘̺͒̂̿̅͠Ā̴̫̖̬̜̝̟̠̥̿͌̃͐ͅK̶̟̻̤̼͇̭̻̗̖̖̮̤̺̺̅̐̐̊̀̅̔̈́͑̔̄̀̕̚͝ͅE̶͔̥̺̩̖͓̗̱͉̤̮̭̲͎̺̫̋͛̋̒̊̄̕ ̶̧̬̙͉̮̦̮̭̘͙͌̈́̈Ţ̶̨̛̛̫͖̙̫̺̘̰̘̳̮̘̞̊̏̅͊͋̍͂̄̅́̌͜͠͠͝ͅH̸̨̟͕͍̝̠̫̔̏̓͘͜͝Ě̶̡̨̨͖̫͚͇͍̰̻̪̭̰̃̈́́̈́̌̇̔̒̂̑́̉̿̓̑͘ͅ ̴̭̮͍̟̩̯̍̉͂̂̒͗̀̈́̐̒͘T̷͓̱͎͔̦̫̲̹̰̠̬̤̹͂R̸̡̹͔͓̳͎̣̗͙̥͙̱̯̂͊̌̽͗̈́̎̅̇͘͝A̴̳̳̤̣͐̑̄͘ͅS̷̩̲͖͒̏́̆̋Ḩ̶͔̥͉̪͓͉͇̠̭̓͋̀͒͘͜ ̸͇͎̘̮̀̊͐̈͋̽̑̇̔̄̋̈́͜͝͠Ơ̷̡̳̰̳͈͙̙̞͔̹̦͍͋̋̑̿̿͂̾̊̀̓͑̎̕̕͘̚U̶͔̩̘͖͖̗͚̞̲͓̬̟̥̺̅̓̂͑̏́͝͠͝T̸̺̹̤̮̆̓̽̈́̀̒̉͒̄̓̀̒͒͠,̶̪̤̯̖̩̯̘̾̒͊̇̂͂͗̑̂͋͋̈́̏͐̏͜͝ͅ ̶̡̡̣͓̠̭̫̟̫͕̔͆͋̈́̈́̌̊̓̈́̍͌̈́̔̐́̾͜͝A̵̲͓̝͚͚̖͖͙͉̹͍̗̦͙͔̭̞͑͊̃̓̿̑̓̑̾̃͊L̵̨͖̣̜̬̜̮̲̦̞̥̑̓͑̄͌̎̿͛̈́̈̂͝Ḇ̷̯͎̝̮̯͖͈̰͔̦͕̫̭̬̙̉̉̅ͅY̵̡̪̹̲͚̭͈̞͚̆̓͒̍̚͘͝͝͠.̷͚̳̘̜͙̺̝̳̌̀̔̑͒͗̐̌̈̃͌͝͠͝’

There it was again - that compulsion. This subtle… feeling. Like someone or something was just… gently pushing on his mind. On his thoughts. Compelling him, his wants. With a deep breath, and another soft grunt, Alby bounced the man from his shoulder, and into the blazing fires of the furnace, tossing in his legs to follow the body as embers shot out in every direction. He hadn’t even fully straightened when those steel jaws banged shut, and Alby threw a widened brown eye over the lever. Was it faulty…? Holy shit.

The blow to his jaw wasn’t enough to keep Rhodes down now… the screaming started shortly after, and Alby couldn’t take his eyes off the furnace as that blackening silhouette within thrashed and struggled frantically for an escape that would not be found.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a few minutes… but those minutes felt like an eon, and Alby knew Rhodes suffered… too bad it was over so soon.

He stared quietly at the furnace as the roaring dulled to a soft, content rumble, fingers shaking by his thighs as he searched in vain for signs that Rhodes yet remained within that beast’s blazing belly.

The walkie talkie popped and fuzzed.

There were no clear words again… but he could have sworn that he heard the faintest sound of a voice… just… just out of range.

'̶̡͙̗͔̒̄͒͛̆̈́͐̏̐̃̈́̎͝Ṋ̷̱̙̝̋́͐̑̀̋̐̽̽̐͂̆͐͝Ơ̵͔̒̀͋̋̌̂B̸̖̞̘̬̥̺͓̜̘̟͙̥̑̍͑́̍̈́̿̉̈́̽͑̏̀͘ͅO̸̡̬͉̞̱̪͚̭̼̬͉͊̉̆͛̍̒̊D̷̥̩̮̈̃̊̈́͂͊̔͑̈́̽̇͘̚ͅẎ̵̦̺̯̣̦̲̣̐̽̀͆̽̊̏̃ ̷̨͖̖̪̥̹̣̠͕͔̤͎͍̹̽̈̕͝L̵͔̜͇͖̮̰͙̤̰̠̂́̄̓̌̑̄̐̈̚͝Ǐ̸̗̭̬͍̬͙̗̘͔̃͝͠ͅK̸̙̼͙̳̹̫͚̩͎͍̈́ͅȄ̵͙̏̉̏͛̈̎̒̐̆̿Ş̴̧͙̤̳̤̅̿̈̉́̌͂̐̿͠͝͠͠ ̵̢͙͍̮̳̐̅͐̀͐̅͗͂̈́́̈́A̸̧͉̟̯͔̠̮͚̻̭͑̿͒̈̿̅͒͛͛̽͠ ̶̡̢̹̭͉̳̙̣̺̘̍͂́̏͝K̵̻͉̳̘͍̩̦͎̱̙̩̝͍͌͒̈́̐̃͘͜I̵̺̝̣̩͕̱̱͇͔̊̅͒D̴̨͔̘͎̝̫͕͙͚̥̦̘̙̳̀̔͑͘D̵͔̤͓̗͈͍͕̱͎̭̀Ī̴̱̲́̇͂̐͠Ē̶̡̪̅́̑̃͊̎̐́͐̂̊̓ ̵̨̱͎͚̣͖̘͓̻̬̗͖͊̊̉̇̽͑̓̋͊̾̾F̶̡̡͈̭̼͇͇͎̙̂̽͛͐͒̈́̅̉̎Ḭ̷̧̛̮̤̣͓̖͈̐̏̀̅͗́͘͝D̸̛̦͊D̸̡̢͈̞͙͔̜͖̖̮̻͖̒͆̆̒̆̿͋̌̒́̅̚͘͠Ļ̵̻̼͚̝́̿͋̚E̸̝͎͍͂̇̽̃͋͊̐͌͝͠ͅR̶̐́̉̑̈́��̡̞͉̞̩̱̝͚̗͙̦̀͌̀̾̅͘ͅ'̷̨̧͔̣̜̺̪̰̜̦̮̖̺͑̂̃̊̔͂̈̀͐̃͜

[midnightmoonkiss]

I was told by your wonderful wife, birds-have-teeth that you were in need for some asks/requests. How about Izuku and S/O on their wedding day?

She truly is a wonderful wife 🥺💜

Ahh! I dont usually take requests, but this was just too cute to pass up!

I hope you don’t mind that these are headcanons!

Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Wedding Day.

Category: fluff

——————————

First of all! I think their wedding would be set sometime in spring. The time of year where it’s not too hot and not too cool, just after all the leaves and flowers bloom. I mean think about it, Sakura petals flowing in the wind on your wedding day? What a dream.

It sounds crazy, but I always imagined Izuku as the type of person to want to have their wedding outside.. Kind of like- in a garden? Or a forest? You know that the wedding Bella and Edward had in the forest? Kind of like that! Except surrounded by flowers!

Flowers like.. Magnolia, forget-me-nots, tulips, and of course - sakura! Or, well, Cherry blossoms~ Just! Flowers that really brighten up the secluded space. You’d need seclusion, after all, especially since you are marrying the number one hero.

Wouldnt it be so cute to be married under a willow tree, a brilliant white arch covered in white roses and vines standing above you both? Ackk vines.. So beautiful. Oh! Maybe there’s even a little rock pathway down the aisle?

The air is fresh.. Because you’re in the countryside! Maybe even in the mountains. Somewhere where a little babbling brook is not too far behind the trees, its soft bubbling noises relaxing the party-goers. 

Speaking of! Wouldnt a little plant themed engagement ring be the cutest? Something like this! 

Wedding ring.. Well you both have to pick that out dont you?

The wedding day is obviously going to be the most important day for both of you! But also, nerve-wracking as hell. Im positive Izuku has probably freaked out five times since he woke up at 6AM. Maybe a mental breakdown. Yknow. 

He’s a sensitive guy! And he’s terrified! Nono, he doesnt have cold feet. He wants to marry you! He cannot imagine his life without you in it, but God is he absolutely terrified that you might be the one leaving him at the altar.

Not that he doesnt have faith in you! It’s just.. His insecurities and anxieties taking over him. Even after all these years of unconditional love, he still cant help but feel you deserve someone way better than him. And he fears one day you’ll wake up and realize that as well.

But you’d have to be absolutely crazy to even think about doing that, huh?

So yeah. Wedding day morning is filled with Izuku’s best man - Shoto - trying to calm the sporadic man down, bringing Toshi and his mom in to aid as well. He may have thrown up. Who’s to say.

You, on the otherhand, are having a great morning. You’re bouncing with excitement! Ready and oh-so impatiently waiting to marry the man of your dreams in the most scenic area you could find. It truly was a catch! A relatively cheap place - the majority of your funds were spent on food and flowers. You can get pretty good deals on wedding dresses if you’re marrying the number one hero, apparently. So long as they get to display one of your wedding photos.

Hell, it’d help a local business boom, and who wouldnt want that? You got a discount on your bridesmaids dresses as well~

A dream.

But the start time was quickly approaching. Tick-tock!

Soon enough, the both of you are ready to start a new chapter of your lives together.

The scene is set! Your husband-to-be stand beneath arch drenched in morning dew, light breaking through the trees reflecting on each little droplet and showering the little patch where your wedding was being held in brilliant lights 

It honestly looked magical, straight out of a fairy tale. Hell, you were about to marry your prince, after all

God this wedding is like every outdoorsy kid’s dream

The piano starts up once the player gets the queue that everyone is ready.

Your friends walk down the aisle first in pairs, bridesmaids with bridesmen, silky gowns flowing in the gentle spring breeze

Soon enough the flower girl trots happily down the aisle, throwing Sakura petals every which way with a happy little smile on her face, dress as white as snow and a little pink belt. 

It was truly a miracle no one tripped on the rocks yet.

Once everyone was in their place, a traditional wedding song began to play. 

Showtime.

Izuku swore he saw an angel the moment those vines swayed to reveal you.

A sunbeam hit you from behind, its golden glow cascading down your body.

Tears formed in his eyes as he watched, paralyzed, as you walked down, heels clicking against the floor

The biggest, goofiest smile cracked onto his face, eyes connecting with yours. All was going to be alright. He had nothing to fear.

He’d probably openly sob while stating his vows, hands trembling as they hold onto yours.. It’d probably be something along the lines of.. “Ever since the day I met you, i’ve become a better man. You helped me grow into who I am today. You guided me towards the path that would lead me to happiness with your loving embrace, with every word of endearment you’d whisper to me, and with love as a whole. I always wondered what it’d feel like to be loved like this, and now that I have it, and that I have you, I don’t ever want to let go of it. Because you’re it, princess. You’re the love of my life, my one and only, my soulmate, and so much more. Every day we’re apart I always think of you. You keep me going. Without you, I wouldn’t be me.”

Something cheesy, yknow! Somethin sweeter than candy corn. <3 what a sap. 

He may have had to wipe his tears a few times… cough.

Surprisingly though, his hands are super steady when he slides that ring on.

A shaky yet firm “I do,” green eyes now a shimmering viridescent as he stares at you with the purest form of love swirling in his gaze.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

His hand reaches up, delicately placing itself on your cheek. He cant help but take this moment in, condemning your smiling, angelic face to memory, the flashes of photos being taken completely ignored as he slowly leans in. 

His lips are softer than they had ever been in that moment, the kiss itself so sugary sweet - the embodiment of innocence and passion. Love.

Eyes fluttering closed, he cant help but kiss you over and over again, each one making both your smiles grow larger until giggles erupt between the two of you.

Oh boy. He had lipstick smudged all over his lips. He couldnt care less, though. Pulling you close to his body, he smiled cheekily over at the photographer for a photo.

HE’S YOUR HUSBAND NOW! IZUKU IS YOUR HUSBAND! Praise the lords. (Y/N) Midoriya has a nice ring to it, doesnt it?

Inko welcomes you to the Mrs. Midoriya family with a hug.

The rest of the day was filled with you and Izuku being stuck together like glue, surrounded by friends and family.

The wedding photos would be filled with you two standing in a meadow, sun raining brilliantly down on the two newlyweds.

ackk just.. sakura petals flying in the wind~ how pretty. Maybe one even lands in your hair and he gets to pluck it out. <3

He’s the happiest he’s ever been.

Hell, he’s sure this is what being high felt like. 

He cant stop smiling! He’s just so so cute.

Of course, a few goofy photos have to take place! Maybe Uravity uses her quirk to make it look like the number one hero is floating away whilst you ‘run’ to try and get him.

There was even one where he and his bridesmen wear parts of their hero costumes to show off a bit. Like Deku wears his hood, Shoto wears his.. Bracelets and backback..? Stuff like that! Truly it’s a weird fuckin photo. But so so dorky and so them.

His favorite photo is definitely the one where he has you sitting on his arm as he flexes. Yep. He turned into a bit of a show off. Could you blame him? Haha.

At night is when the real fun begins. Mainly because of the party! Lanterns are set up everywhere, and due to being so far from the city- the stars are shining in the sky! Much more than youre used to.

Izuku took a dance course, unbeknownst to you (Shoto and Bakugou were forced to join him- talk about chaotic!), so that first dance together is honestly breathtaking. He’s so gentle with you, leading the way and twirling you around.

May or may not have bawled when you danced with Toshinori. 

CUTTING THE C AKE. OKAY OKAY.

It’d probably be forest themed. Green and white blending beautifully together, maybe even a little frosting stream cascading down the side. Hand made models of you and Izuku stood proudly at the top. I guess the flavor would be something you both chose together?

He loves touching your soft hands so holding that knife together is awesome for him.

Oh yea. After the perfect photo is taken, he definitely smears frosting on your cheek - just so he has an excuse to lick it off.

Sticky!

You both leave in a black limo, a “Just Married!” sign placed on the back.

Ahh. honeymoon time.

It’s going to be a long night,

Mainly because..

Well. Traveling- and.. Y’know (;

All in all! It starts off as stressful, and ends in the sweetest way possible.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 39

The near cloudless skies above let the afternoon sun beam down upon the city of Townsville, most of its light reflecting off the glass of the towering skyscrapers and redirects down towards the estates and manors that make up the upper crust district. The sunny glow seeps its way straight through a small window set along one of these manors; resting along the floor of a seemingly random dark room; a stream of dust passing through the sunshine when the door to this room creaks open. From the light that comes out from this doorway, the room is revealed to be filled with numerous party supplies. A lone figure stands within this very light and waltz’s right on through the doorway, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the walk in closet. With the closet door shut, the room starts to dim back and lets the sliver of natural sunlight be all that illuminate the closet; a young man with a blue mane dressed in white glazing over the party decorations, fancy cups and plates, tapestries, fancy sculptures, even a shut down automaton dressed in a suit.

Can’t believe Kingsley’s folks got a whole closet filled with this kinda fancy party stuff; makes a guy wonder how often they throw these kinda stuffy shindigs. Lookin at all these kinda decorations, doubt any of them were any fun ragers that didn’t even draw out even a little bit of a cheer; much less set about half the building on fire. Maybe the robot has some sparks in em, but it might be a safe bet to say that it ain’t gonna be hostin even a four year old’s discount birthday bash anytime soon…What was I doing here again? ...Oh right, the tapestries. That’s it. Reminding himself of the reason he had ventured into this darkened walk in closet in the first place, Tore reaches right over the numerous plates, cups, and decorations and grabs hold of a couple of rolled up pieces of cloths from one of the shelves; the blue boy zipping out from the dust filled closet with tapestries in tow.

Straight out through the hallway does Tore go through a fancy hallway, passing through the pictures of Kingsley with his happy family that hang along the wall; making his way towards the front lobby while keeping the rolls of cloth tight in arm. Amidst his rush out from the hallway however does he wind up bumping straight into somebody; both of them and the tapestries spilling onto the carpeted floor. “Ah!” Its in shaking off the little bump and rising back on his feet that he see’s who exactly it is he had wound up running into; the young daughter of the estate, dressed in a pink hoodie and black leggings. “Watch where the hell your going!” she rudely barks. “Sorry, Chloe. Couldn’t see ya while carrying these for yer bro’s party.” The mere mention of her brother’s party sours the young girl’s mood even further, incentivizing her to head straight towards the door; even as Tore continues to speak while picking up what he dropped. “So, how good are ya-” Hearing the front door slam shut makes him turn back towards the front, the red head he was trying to converse nowhere in site. “-Holding up…” Huh, guess she’s still tryin to workout some stuff after what happened with Circe half a month back. Can’t really blame her sour mood with what she went through; least she’s actually going out of the house now.

Within the main hall of the estate, a girl with flowing dark brown hair dressed in green army jacket covering a salmon pink dress carefully holds a golden chandelier above her head and hovers it straight up to the roof; keeping her eyes on the top of the decoration as she nears the hook set along the ceiling. Carefully does she weave the top of the chandelier right along the hook and slowly backs away to let the exquisite ornament dangle on its own; its golden finish shimmering against the sunlight that seeps inside. Just as the young lass lets out a relieving sigh from finishing this task, her nerves are wound right back up when hearing Tore echo out: “Got me the good’s Cayenne!” The girl glances back down towards the entrance to the main hall to witness the blue boy run right inside while he asks: “Where ya want em?” “Where do ya think Kingsley said, dumbass? Just hang one of them up at the top of the stairwell.” “On it.” Cayenne giving her these instructions, a pair of white wings sprout out from along his back and ascends straight up to the very top of the twin stairwell; landing right along the very center and scanning length of the roll to try and find where it ends. “Hey uh, I don’t see an end. How do ya open this?” Right as he asks this, the boy manages to find a lone button set along one of the sides and claims that he: “No wait, think I found it.” Pressing this button, Tore watches the whole tapestry roll down from the railing and unravel into a gorgeously sown picture that hangs just above the hall set between the twin staircases.

“Huh. Figure it was gonna be some old family heirloom from like medieval times or something. It don’t look half bad though.” “Does it look alright to you?” Cayenne aggressively questions. Standing behind the stairwell railing does the blue boy peer down to the finely knitted tapestry that he had just freshly rolled out, finding the top to be facing the floor below. “You mean from my perspective or yours?” Upon the indigo angel’s cheeky little comeback, the spice queen can’t help but let out audibly upset gnarl; prompting Tore to correct himself with: “Kidding. Just-just kidding here, kay? Gimme a sec to find the button.” “Nrr. The withdraw feature seriously has one hell of a fuckin kickback. So don’t be acting like such a reckless jackass and just hold-”

Before Cayenne could give anymore words of warning to the blue boy, he manages to find the same button he used to unravel the tapestry and wastes not another moment pressing it. The entire knit work art swiftly rolling right back up and snapping shut as it flings itself into the air; smacking Tore right in the face as he takes off. From the top of the stairwell does the rolled up tapestry careen through the air and straight towards the freshly hung chandelier; the rolled up cloth slamming against the golden decoration hard enough to knock it off the hook and send it plummeting down towards the hard marble tile. In but an instant is the golden chandelier reduced to nothing but pieces that scatter across the floor in a loud crash; both the spice queen and indigo angel hovering down towards the wreckage as Cayenne’s fists violently tremble. “God fucking dammit! What the hell is wrong with-” Before Cayenne could unleash all the enraged fueled screaming and cursing bubbling within, her anger starts to simmer when he finds the blue boy showing signs of growing worry, but rather seemingly on the verge of crying while staring down to the wreckage he caused. Amidst letting loose a short growl does Cayenne instead decide to walk off and simply let the boy be; the spice queen strolling straight down the hallway set along the left. Swear that blue dumbass sometimes just doesn’t fucking listen. Like seriously just pisses away anything ya try and say to him.

While walking through the carpeted hallway, Cayenne witness a lone door set along the side crack open with a young man with orange hair peering out from within and asking: “Just heard a loud crash! Is everything okay!?” “Ain’t anything that bad, Kingsley. Just the blue dumbass out there wound up breaking one of your guys’s chandelier.” A small sigh escapes from the boy genius’s lunges as he is relieved how: “Least nobody got hurt.”

“Kingsley. Get your sweet buns in here and let me finish.” a voice within the room urges. Seeing the boy genius retreat back, Cayenne follows him in to find a flamboyant boy with partially blonde hair dressed around his black haired crown; Kingsley stepping onto a small stool as he asks the boy: “Benji, do we really need to get my measurements now of all times? All of us are in the middle of prepping for a big formal tonight.” “Bay-be, this big party you guys are throwing is about this big young superhero team you all are forming, ain’t it? So you all serious need some uniforms to match the motif, something that just screams iconic to go along with this little league of yours.” Speaking this does the small crystal earring hanging right along the side of his head start to let out a strange sparkle; a roll of measuring tape set along the table behind them hovers in the air and is drawn straight into his hands. As Benji wraps this length of measuring tape around his clients waistline, he hears the boy genius assure how: “Do-don’t get me wrong here. I’m thankful for the help I’m getting in prepping for all this.” “Please, sweetie. Its the least I can do after your mom taught me so much about clothes and armor design. And from the sound of things out there, you need all the help you can get.”

“And speakin of actual needed help, that indigo dumbfuck out there’s already wound up breaking a chandelier, tore up a couple of table clothes, and wound up shattering some glass in the span of like two hours.  Why in the hell are you keeping him around if all he’s gonna do is just wreck shit.” Cayenne gets back on topic with. “Agh….When Mally and the other’s wound up getting back home, she told me all the sort of stuff Tore’s been through these past two and a half weeks.  From the way she put it, it sounds like things got incredibly bad for him on his end too, like something that just tore is soul in half. Figured that giving him something to do would keep his mind off it.” “Not that I don’t sympathize here, but I doubt keeping him workin’s gonna cheer him up all that much. Ya ask me, he needs to sort through all that emotional bullshit.” “I’m sure he will. He just needs some downtime to think things over.”

“Yeah so, how’s that thinking stuff going for you?” the spice queen then questions. “Whaddya mean?” the genius asks. “Y…Yer fuckin with me, right? You and my aunt just came up with this whole club fulla fresh out the pussy heroes ready to shove their feet straight down the forces of evil’s asshole with you at the top and you ain’t even sweating a drop here. Won’t lie here, ballsy, but a little worrying. You feeling okay?” “I’m...still pretty surprised myself. Wonder if all the stuff we went through before hand might’ve prepped me for something this big. Feels like yesterday when we escape that little fortress out in the middle of the tundra, got kidnapped by a gang twice, almost died to Circe, having the whole town come after me in a manhunt, my girlfriend’s dad nearly blowing up the town, my sister getting possessed, my parents souls getting taken…” Among the distant ring running through his head, the sounds around him grow muffled as he himself grows silent; a lone voice pushing through the deafening ring with: “Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley!” The last shout that blurts out from the spice queen manages to snap him straight out from his haunting moment of reflection; the boy genius shaking his head before peering over to Cayenne with: “Di-da-du. My-my point is that with everything we’ve been through these past several month or so, leading a whole generation of new young heroes against the forces of evil should be simple in comparison.” “You sure you’re alright?” “Don’t gotta worry about a thing Cayenne, I’m fine.”

Rising from under them does Benji cut straight between the two to add how: “You know what isn’t so fine? I need to split outta here to snatch up a particular sort of fabric I got in mind for the uniforms, one that they only sell along the east end of Townsville. Gotta make it over before the animals in opening hours grab them.” Right as the fashionable young boy was about to race right out, Benji stops dead in his tracks to turn back and question: “Oh, before I go. What color are you wanting for the uniforms?” “Uh...the logo we got’s purple. Maybe find a shade of that.” Kingsley suggests. “Fantastic choice, I’ll see what I can do sweetie.”

“I seriously can’t believe he’s gonna be in the tech department.” Cayenne disbelieves. “You haven’t seen the kind of high tech state of the art armor he makes.” Kingsley argues. “While were talkin about it. You still haven’t really picked out a supervisor for that branch yet, haven’t you? Ya got me rockin the combat division, your girl on knowledge and info; and for some damn reason, you went ahead and made that pussy little ghost boy head of supernatural.” “Hey, I’ll have you know that Damian’s gotten a lot more brave and bold these past few months; he ain’t even disappearing when he gets slightly anxious.” “But we still ain’t got anyone sitting their ass down on the seat for the tech department. If we plan to announce this whole alt young justice bullshit, then we can’t show up on stage with half a deck here, and with you acting as leader, I doubt that you’ll have time to fill both bottles with piss.” “Yeah, I know. Its why I’ve been looking into a couple of promising people I heard about. Even got Mally suggesting somebody, but I still need to look into them.”

Before the two could speak even another word on the whole matter, the violent sound of a rumbling explosion catches there attention; both of them facing towards the door leading into the hallway; Cayenne barking: “The hell was that?” “Sounds like it came from the front hall, come on!” Kingsley claims as he rushes out the door alongside the spice queen.

Leaping out from the end of the hallway, both of them are left alarmed when greeted by the site of blazing flames enveloping a pair of large flower pots set along the side; the flames threatening to climb up the wall and reach the decorations hanging above. What draws their attention however is the blue boy standing before the blazing pots with bits of cake and candle at around his feet; all the while panicking with: “What do I do!? What do I do!? Why aren’t the water sprinklers going off!?” “Uh. My dad’s been dismantling the sprinkler system so it could deal with electrical fires more effectively.” Kingsley answers. “Well ain’t that fan fucking tastic! How the hell we supposed to put this out!” “I got it.” they hear another voice shout out. Glancing towards the direction of this call do they see the misses of the estate race right in with a fire hose in her hands; the big hipped milf pulling back the lever to unleash a torrent of gushing water. In a matter of moments are the flames threatening to climb the walls of the manner doused by the downpour of water; the gorgeous pot of flowers left under these flames reduced to a charred crisp down to the remains of their petals.

Turning off the flow of water, Kingsley’s mother drops the hose straight down onto the floor before she herself falls to her knee’s; lamenting how: “Those two pots...They were thirty thousand dollars each. There’s no way we could replace them for the formal tonight.” Clutching the blue boy by his shoulder, Cayenne jerks Tore to face her and aggressively claims that: “Ya got ten fucking seconds to say what the hell happened here, else those flowers ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be set ablaze!” “I-I don’t know. I seriously just went to the bathroom for about 3 minutes and when I came back they were on fire.” Pinching one of the frosting covered candles off from the marble tile, the misses of the house looks closely to the soaked party candle and concludes how: “Oh...I think this might be my fault.” “It is?” “Huh?” “Xcuse me? “Let me show you why.” the mother insists.

Through a pair of twin doors, the misses opens up to reveal to them an assortment of sweets and pastries set along the kitchen; most of which of moderate quality, something she explains with: “I don’t really tend to bake all that often, but I wanted to break out the over mitts for this special occasion. I woke up around seven mixing batter, pouring sugar, and laying bread crust all just to make this whole splurge for all the guests that’ll attend.” “Geez, splurge really is an understatement here.” Kingsley comments Among them does Cayenne notice one of the cakes holding several candles having a big chunk broken right off and asks: “Guess this was the little firestarter? The hell happened?” “Oh. It happened when I was pulling out a couple of homemade pies I left in too long out from the over. Part of the baking sheet was stuck on the oven grill and I had to jerk it out. I pulled so hard that I flung both of them through the air; one of them wound up smacking a piece of the cake off and flew straight into the front hall. I saw some of the candles fly off the cake and land right into the pot of flowers; as soon they caught on fire, I raced out toward the nearest fire hose they had. Can’t believe that my baking blunders nearly caught the entire manor on fire.” “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Peering over do all of them see the blue boy scrapping some of the splattered pie off the wall and shoving it straight into his mouth; Tore complimenting how: “This beef pot pie you made ain’t half bad.” “Its supposed to be apple.” the mother replies. After swallowing all that he had shoved in with a single gulp, the indigo angel lets out a little hiss and jest how: “Maybe adding some cinnamon might fix it.” Alas does this little attempt to ease the room only fuel the misses dismay more and have her put her hands against her face, all the while Cayenne shakes her head at him with an upset gaze. “B-but I might be able to fix those flowers.” “Really? How?”Kingsley questions.

Returning to the set of burnt oversized flower pots set along the main hall, the three watch closely as Tore stands before the charred petals; the blue boy’s wings sprouting forth as he takes in a deep breath, From where they watch do Kingsley, Cayenne, and the Misses behold as bits of glimmering color penetrate the walls of the estate to gather into the indigo angel until his figure is coated in a thin layer of lively aura. With the power that he had mustered, Tore thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the two charred remains of flora and cast forth all he had gathered upon them; letting the light that he engulfs them in seep straight into their petals. Yet despite his best efforts to restore the bouquets to their previous natural glory, all the colorful light that seeps into them only manages to bring but a single flower back from its burnt demise; a single flower that blooms among the ruin. “What? Aw…” the angel moan. Beholding the minimal restoration, Cayenne gives a less than sincere applause as she sarcastically praises how: “Wow. What a miracle. Truly the coming of the holy is thy.” Midst her little sarcastic jest does she feel Kingsley elbow jab her side, causing her to stop her little insincere praise. Approaching one of the burnt pots herself, Kingsley’s mother reaches out to the freshly revived flower and plucks it out from its scorched others; beholding the colorful sheen shimmering along the flora’s restored petals.

“Hey, don’t sweat about it, Tore. They’re just a bunch of flowers, nothin too important.” the boy genius attempts to comfort with. “But I was looking to bring both pots back to life. God, I can’t get anything right today.” the indigo angel claims. “That’s a fuckin understatement.” the spice queen whispers under her breath. “How bout not worrying so much about the décor. The party doesn’t start til later tonight. I’m sure we can handle it.” Kingsley suggests. “Well, what’s that leave me to do?” “Uh...Ya know, there’s gonna be a good dozens of people that are attending this little party, some of them pretty important guests of honor. Some of the catering servants we usually got to handle all that are taking their vacation days. Maybe you could help keep the party going, make sure everyone’s having a good time, refreshments aren’t running out, just miscellaneous stuff.” “And not to be a complete fuck up while yer at it.” Cayenne rudely adds.

Upon that very moment do the front doors swing right open, revealing the very fashionista himself strolling straight in with a bounce in his step; claiming to them all: “Well if that’s the case, it’d pain me to see him going around catering in those rags.” “Its been like 20 minutes, how the hell are you back already?” Cayenne wonders aloud. “What’s wrong with what I got on now?” Tore question. “You’re joking, sweetheart. Just look at the poor thing.” From the designers words does the blue boy peer down to his short sleeved white blazer, looking to the numerous stains, burns, tears, wrinkles, and stretches littered across its once pure white fabric. “It’d be a downright felony to have you serve wearing that mess. Come. I shall sow you a suit worthy to match.” Benji exclaims, grasping the blue boy by the collar and dragging him down the hall. “Well, with half of the treats ruined. I better get back to baking before the party starts this evening. I just hope that I don’t wind up making another mess like that again.” the mother claims as she retreats back towards the kitchen.

With both of them left along with one another, the spice queen strolls over to Kingsley side and once again asks him: “Hey, you sure can handle all this?” “Um- of course I can. I’m sure when Renee and Damian get here, things should be smooth sailing from then on.” “With the kinda shit that goes on with all of us, it’ll be a hell of a miracle if it does” Cayenne comments as she walks off. As his spicy pal floats off out from the main hall, Kingsley is left alone with nothing but some new thoughts running through his head; pondering on Cayenne’s very words.

Several hours pass as the afternoon clear blue is replaced by the twinkling night sky that hangs above the entire  city, the lunar glow of the half moon shinning down onto the manor and reflecting off the roof of the dozens of vehicles that pull into the massive driveway. Stepping out from these vehicles to an array of people that stroll through the driveway to the manor front doors; some dressed fancy while other’s dress more casually as they enter the estate. Beside the front doors are a pair of door keeps that kindly greet the numerous guests that enter with: “Evening folks.” “How are you doing?” “Welcome to the estate.” “Hope you have a pleasant time.” “Please direct yourselves to the main hall.” These very guests step through inside to behold the Spicer manor’s main hall to be decorated with numerous finely woven tapestries,  towering statues, lines of pots filled with flowers, and paintings depicting family and friends. Set along the sides of the main hall be the catering platter holdings small portions of meat, cheeses, crackers, punch, some alcohol, even some of the humbly made cakes and pastries that the Mrs had made.

Along the side of this grand hall, the blue boy himself peeks out from the dark recesses of the left hallway and beholds the numerous guests that fill the main hall and slowly spread themselves out through the abode; a small anxious breath escaping from his bit lip as he stares to them all. Don’t think about what happened then, Tore. It’s a new night. New moment. You’ll get yer mind off what happened then in no time. Just focus on what your friends are counting on ya for and play the servant. Circulating these thoughts through his head does the indigo angel finally steps out from the hallway darkness and right into the light of the main hall, letting the light hit his suit of deep indigo blue complimented with an undercoat and cuffs of silk white. His blue main held into a short ponytail that dangles behind the crown of his head.

From the side of the hall, the finely dressed blue boy makes his way straight to the platter table and swipes a silver platter filled with small little meats and snacks; the angel’s eyes glued to the treats as he attempts to hold back the chance to dunk them all down his gullet. Snap outta it, man. These ain’t made for you, these’r for the guest. Just hold the platter above your head and try not to look at the delicious cheese, warm moist meats, and savory salty crackers together in cute little sandwiches… After taking a moment to shake off the temptation, the blue boy strolls away from the food table and ventures out towards the guest further off; holding off even taking so much as a glance at the food he delivers.

From the platter table, the blue suited boy strolls over to a couple of guest enjoying the party and attempts to lower the tray in his hands down to present them the selection of snacks;  only to wind up accidentally bumping the silver tray into their side and nearly spilling the goods. Before all the little sandwiches could smack against the guest, the indigo angel manages to slide them back onto the tray in the nick of time; swiftly offering them in a sort of faux innocent manner with: “Snacks?” Despite his little blunder, the guests swipe some of the little treats right off the plate with some hints of offense; Tore soon strolling off towards the dozens of other party goers while attempting to keep what remained of the food he carries on the silver plate.

Perched atop the manor’s front hall stairwell, Kingsley keeps his eyes peering down to the numerous guests partaking in the parties pleasantries below; all of them sipping wine, eating little sandwiches, and generally mingling among each other. Just look at all of them down there. Wonder what they’re even expecting outta all this...out of all of us...They’re expecting someone who can lead the this new team to keep the peace, to fight off the forces of evil. What if we can’t...What if I’m not-

Among his thoughts of doubting self reflection, a familiar voice cuts through and snaps him back to reality as he hears: “Hey, Kingsley.” “Jolting out from his thoughts does the boy genius swiftly turn around towards second floor hall to discover his supporting blonde, Renee, approaching; the girl’s eyes reflecting a distinct worry as she asks him: “Is everything okay?” “Oh. Y-yeah, everything’s fine. I just really didn’t expect so many people to show up.” “What exactly did you expect after the announcement of the Vanguard League a week ago? Everyone here’s practically looking forward to see the impression of this new teams leader. Why don’t you go down there and mingle a bit?” Upon his girl suggesting such, Kingsley constantly shifts his eyes about as if searching for way out, stuttering out how: “Uh-uh-uh...Ma-maybe not now; the party just started. They should get some time to enjoy themselves. Besides, you really want me to go down there looking like this? An occasion like this calls for more formal wear. Let me just get dressed in the suit I got in my closet.” Watching her boy race walk right past and head straight down the second floor hallway, a stark worry is reflected in the smart blondes eyes as he watches the boy genius retreat into the depths of the hall.

Slowing his walk down to a simple wander, Kingsley takes in small, calming breaths as he travels further into the decedent hall, constantly shifting his head back and forth from his front and back. As he peers back to the hallway he strolls through, a lone figure suddenly rises up from the carpeted floor before him; the boy genius nearly falling back from the unexpected visit. After keeping himself from falling right on his ass, Kingsley starts to calm himself when realizing it only be his friend, Damian; the boy apologizing with: “Oh! Sorry for popping in so suddenly like that...You feeling alright? I mean I know I kinda scared you, but you just seem so tense.” “Yeah. Just feeling a tad nervous about the party here.” “Believe me, you ain’t the only one here. When you suggested for me to be the head of the Supernatural department, I seriously nearly fainted hearing you say that. I really didn’t know what to think. But afterwards, I took some time to process all of it, and I realized how honored I was that you would choose me of all people to help you run something this huge. I’m still feeling a little tingly to be honest.” “Really? How exactly did you process all that?” “I just simply thought of all my loved one’s who I would make proud, all the people who’ll look to me for guidance, all the other’s that’ll count on us to be the mainline defense against this new budding evil. You know, given everything else we’ve tackled together, I started to understand why you thought there would be no one else better for the job.” “Hmm…” “I think I should go down there and introduce myself to all the guest that came to see us. Why don’t you just take a little bit of time to think things over and come down when you’re ready. Alright?” “Yeah. I might do just that.” Having given this tidbit of advice to his friend, Damian hovers out towards the direction the boy genius had came from; leaving Kingsley with all these newfound thoughts running through his head.

Back within the downstairs kitchen, Tore finishes pouring out several glasses of wine set along a silver platter; the blue boy setting the wine bottle aside and very slowly lifts the plate off the table; careful not to spill a single drop as he carries them all out. Out from the kitchen twin doors, the indigo angel first strolls over to a couple of gents and ladies; presenting the freshly poured wine and offering with: “Refreshments?” “Oh, delightful.” “Choice.” “Fine and Dandy.” “Thank you, young man.” After serving to the more fancy folk, Tore ventures over to some dressed in more casual wear; offering them the drinks with: “Some wine?” “Thanks there.” “Nice.” “About time they got drinks out.” With but half of the refreshments having been taken, the blue boy starts to venture out towards the other side of the hall; careful with what wine he still had atop the platter he carried. Got those, now just to see if some of the other guests along the east wing want anything like some refills or snacks or-

Amidst this thought does he fail to see where he walks and bumps right into one of the guests; all the wine glasses he had been carrying spilling right onto the floor as both of them fall. “Ah, jeez. That’s coming out of the paycheck.” Tore comments as he starts to pull himself back up. Glancing over does he see another having fallen onto the floor and rush straight over to help the finely ruby red dressed woman a hand; apologizing to her with: “So sorry about that.” Taking the boy’s hand, the blue boy pulls her back on her feet; the pinkish red young lady looking to the boy with her three eyes and implores that: “I’m the one that should be sorry. I seriously wasn’t looking here I was going.” “That makes two of us then.” he rebuttals, the two of them sharing a little bit of a laugh between them. “So, you enjoying the party so far?” the blue boy then asks. “Oh, absolutely. The people up here have been so nice and friendly; never thought that life out here would be so much different up here.” “Up here? You come from down south?” “Oh, way down south.” the young lady answers. “Guess that’s two for two we got here. I came from up North, all the way up to the country of Maple leaves and pine tree’s. Winter’s up there a little too cold, but other than that, it was a real nice place to live at. Bet you don’t gotta worry about winter’s down there, do ya?” “Oh hardly. You’d be hard pressed to find even a little tiny flake of snow drop down where I’m from.” “Really? You even seen snow before?” “Of course I’ve seen snow silly. I’ve seen a lot more places that have a lot more to offer then that.” “Hey, I’ve done some big traveling around pretty recently, even to some places that ain’t really nice and neat; still, fun memories...mostly fun. From the way you’re putting it, sounds like she’s got some good stories stashed in that head of yours.” “Oh sure. Though I doubt I’d seen as much as my dad; he’s been practically everywhere. You should really come meet him.” “Ah what the hell. Seems like everyone here’s served pretty well. 10 minute break wouldn’t hurt. Name’s Tore.” “Vera, Vera Lucitor.” the girl introduces with a curtsy as both her and the suited blue boy both stroll along the halls past the numerous other guests and head straight out to the west wing of the hall.

Out along the east side of the hall, Damian waves goodbye to a couple of guests as he floats away; to which he feels somebody grasp his shoulder with: “Hey listen.” Jolting back from ho had grabbed him, the ghost boy calms himself when seeing it to be the spice queen herself; Damian noting: “Well, this is certainly a surprise. Hard to believe you came down here on you’re own. You usually don’t enjoy associating with the more fancy folk.” “You kidding. I hate this fucking uptight shit. Came down here looking for Kingsley. He said he’d be down here in a minute.” “How strange. I just ran into in a couple minutes ago. He said he was rather nervous about the party, so I thought he should take a minute to himself.” “That’s not what he told me.” A third voice chimes in with. Peering out from the crowd beside them do the two witness Renee approach them, continuing to state how: “He told me he was going to change into a suit.” “Really. Might be possible that he’s just doing all three at once.” the ghost boy guesses. “Still, it ain’t like him to mix his story up that much. Maybe we should give him a ring, see what’s going on with him.” Cayenne suggests. “I tried that already; didn’t get a single answer. You think something might be going on with him?” “I’m not too sure. Maybe we should try finding him and find out what’s going through his head.” the ghost boy offers. “Might not be a bad idea. How bout you go search upstairs while Renee and I stay down here in case he comes back down.” This little search party set up, Damian hover straight up through the second floor, leaving the girls to start their search up through the first.

While strolling through the west corridor leading down towards the west hallway, both the indigo angel and young lady continue to chatter among themselves over the numerous adventures that both of them had; Vera continuing off with: “I still remember my trip down in the Hydro kingdom. All the water Nymph’s I met were so nice down there; even offering us tools that let us breathe underwater to take in the sites of their ocean. Just so many beautiful sites I wish I could’ve taken pictures off. They’re cities were lovely sites too, just decorated with jewels, seashells and gold. And the cuisine, never in my life did I taste sea food so delectable.” “Sounds real fun. I remember when my family went down to the middle of the bahama’s for a vacation and we wound up having to fight back against a raging forest beast that was kidnapped people left and right, including our mom. So Roy, Mally, and I went through the woods and fighting this massive monster the size of a giant mound. After punching a part of its shell clean off, we manage to wind up beating it down and send it running right off; setting all the people it kidnapped free. After that, the town we were staying at went and gave us a banquet to celebrate. Think Mally might’ve vomited after finding out a dish she ate had lizard testicles in it. I still remember her beating Roy upside the head as he was laughing over it. Can’t lie, almost bust out giggling myself just watching it all.” “I figured you didn’t cut it as a servant all that well; but I didn’t really think you’d be such a natural warrior like my mom. I’ve seen her in the depths of combat outnumbered, armed with but a single sword; the best I could compare the way she fights is with the grace and elegance of the wind itself.” “Funny. Most of my friends say I fight with all the grace of an overly tipsy Irishman drunkard’s worst nightmare. Guess they mean I can take a lot of hits and still keep on brawlin. Like I seriously remember this one time I got stabbed in the stomach and I was still swinging.” “Really? What sort of teacher did you have to help develop that sort of resilience?” “I can thank my Bosnia war vet grandma taking both Roy and I in for one summer. She really knew how to take a dirty bomb and somehow hit back ten times as hard.” “Sounds like she has a lot more in common with my dad than anyone else I know.” “What’s he like?” “He’s pretty much a clean cut and kind sort of man. Though I won’t lie that the few times he loses his temper can be pretty explosive.”

When finally venturing out from the corridor and entering the west hall, Vera peers through the crowd set before them and states how: “I think I can see my family from over here.” “Which one are they?” the blue boy questions as he gazes out through the crowd. “They’re the couple with the toddler in the woman’s arms.” This little detail given, Tore manages to spot the very woman donning a blood red dress holding a little tike with horns dressed in a little suit in her arms; all with a horned man with three fiery red eyes standing beside them both. “Hey, I think I...think I...Oh…” A sense of overwhelming dread begins to slowly settle in the boy’s stomach when he realizes why all of them look so very familiar, drips of sweat beginning to run through his head as he peeks over to the young woman beside him, the last pieces of the puzzle clicking in his mind. The memories of traversing through hell’s very keep and facing their king still fresh on his mind.

While the indigo angel is left utterly horrified upon these newfound realizations, the young woman beside her starts to skip over towards her family and waving to them with: “Hi everyone!” “Vera. How are you liking the party so far?” her mother in the blood red dress asks. “It’s going so wonderfully thus far.” “I am rather curious of what this New Vanguard league has to make of itself. The bold confidence to lead through danger is something not many can hold.” her demonic father states. “And speaking of new faces. I just got done chatting with a quite interesting gent who’s told me tales of his exploits set though his numerous journey’s. I wish to introduce you all to this boy named Tor-” Vera attempts to introduce, only to turn around to find nobody waiting beside her. Peering through her surroundings, she attempts to spot the very boy in question; swearing to her family how: “Huh? Strange. He was just right beside me.” Peering out towards the direction his daughter had come from, the horned father gazes outwards to notice a figure of indigo blue hurrying through the corridor leading to the main entrance hall; a rather suspicious glare set within his three eyes.

Racing out from the hallway and across the main hall, a myriad of panicking thoughts race through the blue boy’s mind as he dart straight towards the other side; disregarding every single guest that calls for his assistance. “Say, could I get I refill?” “Are there any more snacks?” “Excuse me. Do you know where the bathroom might be?” Why is he here!? Why is did the king of hell gotta come up here tonight of all nights, at this place of of all places!? And of course the girl with three eyes is her dad, so obvious. Should’ve realized it sooner. You think any of them would’ve recognize who their daughter was talking to? Know the mom probably would. The face of someone who broke into yer baby’s room is one that your never gonna forget. Wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d pull out long sharp blade and finish her castration appointment on the spot. Okay, think Tore. What’s your best bet on slipping outta here? Can’t just barge out, it’d cause too much noise. Maybe hiding somewhere til the parties over? Nah, Kingsley and the other’s are gonna want an explanation. They might be able to help though. Sure Kingsley could think of a plan involving a fake mustache and a slightly understandable foreign accent...or would that be too racist?

Opening one hallway door after another, both Cayenne and Renee peer into every room they come to; all the while calling to their friend with: “Kingsley?” Cracking open one room, the blonde sees nothing but darkness wafting within the bathroom; not even a single figure hidden among the shadows. “Kingsley?” Swinging open another door, the spice queen peers into every corner of the decked out lounge, only to find no one held within. “Kingsley?”

Meeting up with one another, the very first thing that Renee asks Cayenne is: “No luck on your end either?” “Afraid not. Where the hell could be possibly be hiding? Swear to fucking god if he wound up bailing…” “That’s not like him though. This isn’t like him. He wasn’t that skiddish about being the teams leader a couple days ago. You think the pressure might be just now setting in?” “With all the damn organizing he’s been doing keeping him busy, I wouldn’t be shocked if it did. Can’t help but wonder what sort of shit he’s been dealing with right now.” “Guys!” the both then hear from across the hall, the familiar voice making the spice queen let out a “so done with this shit” breath. “And speaking of having to deal with bullshit.”

Gazing out towards the direction of the hysterical screaming, both girls behold the blue boy himself sprinting through hallway like a maniacal marathon man; his arms flailing about as he races right towards the both. Right before the indigo angel could run right into them, Cayenne reaches over and clutches Tore right by his face; the Spice Queen tossing the boy back onto the carpeted floor. As they watch the blue boy arise off the scarlet red carpeting, Cayenne then questions: “Alright; what the hell sort of fucked up brain hemorrhage are you suffering from now to race through the hallway like a screaming jackass?” “We need to get everyone the heck outta here pronto! The king of hell himself is in the building!” Tore warns. “Yeah? He’s a part of the guest list, dumbass.” the spice queen answers. “What!? But why!?” “The underworlds Royal family are famous not just as celebrities, but also for the diplomatic work in multicultural relations. They could give the league a vast network of connections if we manage to impress the king.” Renee elaborates. “They’re serious here just to chill and mingle. That’s it. Why the hell are you freaking the fuck out so much?” Cayenne questions.

“Ahh...S-So, Mally told you all about the trip I took with Mall, right?” Tore starts to explain with. “Yeah…” Cayenne confirms. “And about the Halo’s that we needed to collect to get the warpgate to work better.” “The hell’s your point?” “Well, one of those rings we had to get was stashed underneath the Lord of Hell’s castle.” “You fucking didn’t.” “Yeah...And while I broke into their home and swipe the Halo from under them. I might have wound up breaking into their young son’s room and scarring him, nearly got my balls cut off by the queen, bust through a couple of their walls, had Mall mow down a good chunk of his forces outside...And to escape, we had to work together to beat the Kings into an unconscious mess. Th-that-that’s all, really.” Both girl are left unsurprisingly astonished with all the blue boy said he had done underneath the king of hell’s own roof; Renee pleading to tell her that: “Please tell me you’re not serious.” “Augh…Sounds pretty bad saying it all out loud, don’t it?” the indigo angel admits. Upon having heard all of this, a small chuckle is all that could escape from the Spice queen’s mouth before she starts to stroll off and mention how: “Whelp. It’s been a hell of a ride knowing ya.”

“Guys, come on! Don’t make me beg here! If I winds up getting caught out in the middle of this party, the devil that’s among us’ gonna have his Kybr hide roast to a delicious crisp served neatly with a side of gravy coated mashed potato’s and freshly salted stuffing.” Despite the blue boy’s desperate plea, Cayenne continues to head down through the hall; only stopping when hearing Renee claim how: “Cayenne. We’re in the midst of forming out own superhero team, so dealing with situations like this is gonna be something on the clock.” “Oh come the hell on, Renee. Why the hell do we gotta stick our necks out for a guy that brought all this shit on himself.” “Because that’s something that heroes do.” The blonde reminding her of such, a frustrated sigh escapes from the spice queen’s lips as she starts to return to their side and mentions how: “It’s shocking how I’m not used to this shit.”

“So, any idea’s?” Tore asks them both. “Think the best thing to do is to call Damian and have him whisk you away. All with no one being the wiser.” the blonde first suggest. “Not a bad idea there. Just gimme a sec.” the spice queen compliments while pulling out her phone from her pocket. After fidgeting with her phone for a brief moment, the spice queen puts it up to her ear and hears the tone ring; waiting as the tone keeps repeating and repeating in her ear. Alas does the tone simply redirect straight to his voicemail, Cayenne putting her phone away as she curses out: “God dammit! Did he leave his phone at home again?” “What now?” the indigo angel questions. “Whelp, with the phoning in option gone. I’ll have to buckle down and try and find the pissy little ghost boy myself. Renee, get this dumb blue bastard some new digs to cover up with while I try and look for him.” the spice queen commands as she glides through the hallway. “Wait, what should I try and do while and she’s gone...Great…” “So, do I gotta return the suit?” Tore questions, Renee taking her glasses off to pinch the top of her nose.

Along the corridors upstairs, Damian phases through every wall and every door in his way whilst searching for the boy genius himself, flying through bathrooms, bedrooms, and lounges as he constantly calls out with: “Kingsley? Kinglsey? Where are you?” Oh lord, just where the heck could that boy possibly be? But it really isn’t like him to hide the truth like this? Why would he not tell us anything? Does he not want any of us to worry about him? Is he ashamed of have second thoughts? If I had know that being the team leader was what really was on his mind, we could’ve talked things through, let him know that he ain’t alone on all this.  Let’s just hope that he’s not feeling unsure enough to do anything drastic.

“I’m not really so sure about this. You really think this might fool anybody.” the indigo angel claims, gazing to himself in a full body mirror while donning a gorgeous indigo blue short gown; its sheen finish reflecting the light of the room. “I’m exactly sure about that; but with how urgent this is and with what little time we got, there really isn’t that much other options to work with. Besides, this was the only dress she could find around here that would look good on you.” the blonde beside him states, applying eye shadow of a similar color. “Never thought I’d look that gorgeous in a dress. The fabric and eye shadow compliments my hair amazingly. I can kinda see why Roy likes doing this sometimes.” “I only wish I had more time to work, but the guests outside are gonna want to know what I was doing this whole time; so this quick little revamp is gonna have to work for now.”

Tore’s visual transformation finally finished, the blue boy strikes a sassy pose as he admires himself in the mirror; Renee admitting: “I didn’t really expect you to have that sort of figure. It really work.” “It does, don’t it. So what sort of escape route ya got in the works?” “Hmm. Front door is obviously out; some people might see through the ruse. Going through a window might just seem conspicuous.” “Can’t exactly fly out, either. With wings as bright as mine, people are gonna see me fluttering out in the night…Didn’t exactly see anyone going to the garden. You think with this sort of party, it be pretty crowded.” “I think Kingsley mentioned something about a problem with the garden water sprayers and the fountain. With nobody around, it might just serve as the perfect escape route; just go through, jump over the fence and run through town to get back home.” Renee plans through. “Sounds like we got a plan here. Though I might need another to explain to my mom why I’m coming home in this.” “Hmm...Pulling it off this well, I’m not sure she’ll see a problem.” “True.”

Along the left side of the main manor hall, the pair peek out from the shroud of darkness set along the west hallway corridor; both of them beholding the numerous party goers mingling among one another, all while a few other servant race around tending to their requests. Pouring drinks, serving snacks, all the things that Tore himself was tasked with. “Hmm, seems pretty okay to me. Don’t see a pair of horns anywhere in site.” “Most of the manor’s first floor looks pretty packed with guests; that except for the kitchen over there. That’d make a good midpoint between the front and back halls.” Renee elaborates. “Let’s just hope that the king’s family haven’t split up; if any of them recognize who I am, might as well be dead on the spot.”

The first part of their little escape route planned out before them, both the blonde and crossdressing angel emerge out from the hallway and brave ahead through the front manor hall; weaving through the numerous guests and few servants that shuffle among eachother. “Excuse me.” Renee apologize as she swerves through the crowd. “Pardon me, good sir.” Tore says, attempting to put on the best ladylike impression he can. “Sorry.” “Just need to get through, so sorry.” “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” “I love the suit you got on, is it silk?”

All seems to be going rather smoothly as the two of them make their way towards the pair of twin doors leading into the kitchen; Renee whispering to the blue boy she leads: “Almost there. Once we get into the kitchen, we’ll figure out a way from there.” “Yeah, thanks for all the-” Right in the midst of thanking the blonde for her gracious assistance through this predicament, the blue boy then feels something tug on the back of his dress; Tore glancing back for his hopeful expression to shatter when finding that something to be the very young lad of the hellish royal family himself gazing up to him. “Oh lord.” Tore utters. “What is it?” Peering back herself is Renee alarmed to see the devilish horned little tike smiling up to them with a precious grin; that weariness setting into maximum overdrive when hearing a woman close by call out with: “Issac! Where are you sweetie?” In a matter of just seconds do the two witness the human queen of hell herself cut through the crowd as she starts to strolling over to her lost little child; Tore’s eyes shifting about in a panic as he tries to come up with something with just seconds to act. With not many options to work with, Tore grabs hold of the blond beside her and shoves her gently in front of the little horned baby boy; the blonde whispering to him: “What are you doing!?” “Keep’em busy!” the indigo angel feverishly requests as he retreats out in the opposite direction.

While the blue boy heads out behind her, Renee peers back just in time to face her majesty approaching and scooping her little boy in her arms; the little tike letting out a little cute giggle while his mother thanks the blonde with: “Oh, I can’t thank you enough for finding him for me. the boy can get really rambunctious and slips away from time to time to chew on stuff.” “Uh-R-really. How old is he?” Renee responds to her with. “Little bitty Issace here just turned two, those little horns of his just grew in about five months ago.” “Ha ha ha ha, sounds like he can be an adorable little trouble maker, can he? I wonder what having him for a brother wound be like?” the blonde girl jests, slightly peering out towards one of the golden statues set behind the mother. Within the shimmering statue’s reflection can she see the blue boy she had been escorting slip through the crowd and head straight through the doors leading straight into the kitchen; a slightly relieved breath escaping from between her lips as she hears the queen herself ask: “So what pray tell are you planning on the future for this Vanguard league.” “Uh, well. We already have most of the leader division seats filled. It won’t be long before we manage to find the last one to fill in.”

Back upstairs does Damian continue to phase through every single room set along the floor, searching for even a single sign of the boy genius among them; all the while he continues to call out to him with: “Kingsley, where are you. All of us are getting worried here.” “Where the hell are you mopping, dammit!?” he hears a familiar voice crassly shout out for. Phasing straight through a couple more rooms, the ghost boy peeks right through a door to discover the voice belonging to the Spice queen herself roaming through the hallway; Damian grabbing her attention by asking: “Cayenne, you’ve had any luck in finding Kingsley?” “You mean you haven’t sussed him out yet?” Cayenne questions in return. “Oh, I tried. Believe me have I tried. I’ve phased straight into every single room, nook, cranny, and closet set throughout this floor; and not once did I see even a single orange hair of his. I just don’t know where else to look.” “Hmm...Think I might know where he’s hiding. The one place he always goes to think to himself or cry, often times both.”

Within the dark recesses of secret storage space lies dozens of miscellaneous toys, tools, portraits, clothing, and numerous boxes that hold more than meets the eye; some of the contents within threatening to overflow and spill out onto the dust ridden floorboards. Suddenly does a random stack of boxes begin to tremble from something shaking underneath; the grunts of the ghost boy all that manages to make it through as he struggle to open the door held under these boxes. “It’s all too heavy.” “For fuck’s sa- Just lemme try.” “Wait, I think I can-” In a single instant are all the boxes set over the trap door sent flying through the dusty air as the way is flung right open; the light from the hallway downstairs flooding the space as Cayenne hovers up; Damian phasing straight through the floor beside her as pieces of junk rain down. “What’s so wrong about simply me phasing through the floor?” “Where’s the hell’s the fun in that?”

Its then that the two then hear a brief shaking sigh sound off from across the space; Cayenne strolling over to the side to flip a switch; the light bulb above illuminating the entire attic and finally discover the boy genius himself huddled in the dusty corner, his head buried in his knee’s. “Kingsley? Are you okay?” Damian questions as he hovers over to him, only for his words to go unanswered in place of some light sobbing. “Dude, the hell is up with you?” Cayenne then joins in with as she walks closer. “Am I good enough?” both of them hear the boy utter out. “Come again.” “Am I the right sort of person for this kind of job? To lead an entire team of young budding heroes against rising evil, an evil that we must keep at bay else the people I sworn to protect risk being hurt or worse. And all the other’s that will have to look to me for guidance, all of them hinging on my every word for hope and inspiration...I-I didn’t really didn’t put it into perspective much before tonight; but now that I am, that sort of overwhelming pressure and responsibility, its... What if I do something wrong, something I can’t go back to and fix. Like send a bunch of young heroes to their deaths. Wind up making a mistake that cost dozens upon dozens of people their lives. Something that could very well change the course of history for the worse. I wouldn’t know how to fix that; or even if it could be at all.” Such unrelenting worries spiraling through his mind cause the nervous young man to quake in his boots as bouts of sweat run down through his skin; his friends before him looking to Kingsley with great concern.

Down along the back hall of the main floor, the blue boy dressed in silky indigo peeks out from the kitchen twin doors and gazes out past the numerous guests enjoying the spread out platters of cake and meat entree’s to find the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. Hung on the handle of the sliding door was a single dangling sign; one that read out that: “Due to plumbing maintenance issues. Entry into the backyard garden is prohibited. (Yes, again.)” The moment of truth. A little further through the minefield and it’ll be home free from then on out. Just gotta not mess this up.

This little self motivational pep talk going through his head, the finely dressed indigo angel emerges out from the kitchen and blends into the fancy dinning crowd like a serpent through the bushes; slithering through the numerous guests and party goers that enjoy their meals and snacks. In his little sneak out through the back dinning hall is his attention drawn out to the side, his pupils growing when beholding the incredible platter spread out along the length of a table set along the side; all the little sausages, salamis, cracker sandwiches, cakes, fruits, pieces of stake. Eh, maybe a little bit on the way out wouldn’t hurt.

Strolling right over to the table filled with delectable little treats, Tore wastes not a second partaking in the wonderful spread set before him; some he shovels straight into his mouth while others he indiscreetly stashes away in the breast of his dress. This might as well as count as a whole dinner and dessert. Midst his little picking platter detour towards the exit, he fails to see where he was sidestepping and winds up bumping right into someone and fall right onto the floor; wiping off some of the food that splattered onto him while claiming that: “Ah, sorry. Didn’t really see-” The indigo angel quickly snaps silent when glancing over to who he had just bumped into and discovers that somebody to be coincidentally the very same demon princess he had ran into before, parts of her dressed stained with steak grease. “No. I should be sorry. I-” Vera attempts to retort with, but stops speaking when peering over to find no one before her; swiping off some of the food that got on her as she rises confused. Glancing around to figure out who she might’ve ran into, the princess fails to notices a couple of feet sliding straight underneath the tablecloth; the indigo angel keeping his mouth shut tight as he crawls along towards the other side of the platter table.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” a voice questions. Gazing over to her side, the demon princess finds her father walking over to her side; Vera answering him on how: “Oh, I’m just fine dad.” “Did you simply just trip?” “No, I...I thought I just bump into someone. But I’m not sure who, or even what. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find a soul.” As her daughter explains this, the king’s eyes venture out towards the very back of the room; where a lone figure with matching indigo hair and dress slithers out from the dining hall and straight into the backyard garden. His eyes squinting as a sense of familiarity starts to creep upon him.

“Why did you decide to try and hide up here and not talk to us.” Damian questions, staring to his friend huddled in the corner. “How could I even start? Having been appointed the leader of the Vanguard league about a week ago and now of all times in the middle of an introduction party are doubts and pressure starting to set in; how are people gonna look seeing me like that? I supposed to be the spearhead against rising evil, but they haven’t even properly formed the team yet I’m already shaking?...I’m not so sure now if they made the right choice putting him in charge.” Kingsley worries. “That ain’t the kinda shit I seen you do.” he hears the spice queen pierce through with. “What are you alluding to?” “The hell I’m saying his that we’ve been dragged through all sorts of bull, and every single time we’re drowning in the absolute worst piss, that carrot top ya got for a head goes into overdrive to get us out. All the kids Circe had kidnapped, Renee’s dad nearly blowing up the city, everyone’s souls getting fucking ganked; even when you’re knocked outta the game, the work ya put in gets us all so damn far. I’m not fucking with you when I say I think we’d all be long dead if you weren’t there covering our asses.” Hearing this coming from his friends causes him to cease quaking in his boots and start to stand back up; lifting his head up to theirs and questioning with a slight smile if: “You really mean that?” “We seriously couldn’t think of anyone better for the job if you left.” Damian assures him.

Out behind the Spicer manor, Tore ventures through the garden in his efforts to distance himself from the party as far as he could on foot; his eyes glued to the brick wall set along the very end of the garden as he weaves around and hopes over several dug up pipes among the garden path. Just several more meters and over the wall, this whole night’ll just be a thing of the past; just another wacky and cooky night of cross dressing shenanigans full of comedic close calls and socially awkward misunderstandings. Just the usual teenage dramatic comedy happy hour on whatever the heck channel or streaming service even airs those anymore. Wonder if I should keep the dress?

Alas, before the finely dressed blue boy could bound right atop the wall, Tore peers his eyes right along the top and screeches dead in his tracks; his pupils shrinking as he slowly starts to waddle back as he beholds the very king of demons staring down upon him. Oh...oh no. “To think, after you and your partners transgressions, you decide to nest right above my kingdom. Foolishly wondering about as if I would not seek justice. After all that you two have done; breach my kingdom’s abode, destroy my forced, threaten my family; the tormentous pits of the damned would be but a mercy. Instead, I shall carry your execution out myself; engulf your entire being in the depths of my scorching pyres until nothing remains of you in this world. Not even a single piece of your soul.” Promising such to the indigo angel under him does the demonic king leap down from the top of the brick wall and land before the blue boy; the earth quaking in a glowing hellish red as his feet stamp onto the ground.

Everyone in the manor sitting behind them stop right where they stand and gaze about to wonder what’s causing the commotion; some of them falling on their asses while the trembling shakes the entire estate. Within the attic above does Kingsley nearly plummet down into a display of pointy figurines, Damian catching him before he could fall right into a single figure. “What the fuck is that?” Cayenne exclaims. “It sounds like it’s coming from outside.” Kingsley answers.

Erecting out from the cracks of this trembling earthquake be a shell of unholy red power with patches of brimstone covering its surface; threatening to encase both the king of demon’s and the indigo angel within. The blue boy rockets up in a frantic hurry to outrace the forming barrier in hopes of escaping; his hopes dashed when the spherical prison encloses at the top and cuts off the angel’s escape. Slamming right into the top of the cage does its inner layer let out a violent pulse of orange red that sends Tore plummeting back down towards the garden earth; crashing straight down into the concrete set before the cages very conjurer.

Outside this newly formed prison do most of the guests that dwell inside the manor all look out through every glass door and window they could see from, including the king’s own daughter; who attempts to reach out to him with: “Dad, what are you doing!?” Yet do the princess’s words fail to bait even a single bit of the demon’s attention as he keeps his sites to the angel rising before him; his majesty swinging his open palm upwards to let a geyser of hellfire erupt right underneath the boy and launching him up in enveloping flames.

Among the crowd watching the chaos unfold before them, the queen herself manages to squeeze herself through the other guest with her young baby boy in her arms; peering upwards to the figure her husband had just set alight. All of them behold as the scorching blaze that engulfs the boy above is dispersed all at once as the boy’s angelic white wings sprout forth from his backside; his facade having been burned away to reveal the angel underneath. Most of his dress covering his upper torso destroyed, the make up covering his face chipping off under the heat, and the band holding his hair burned away and letting his indigo blue mane flow out; all of these details together giving the queen the answer of who he really was. “...Him! That little miscreant! He’s the exact same boy who broke into our home and terrorized out baby boy.” In listening to that single realization is the crowd around her left utterly astonished, some of them gasping while others say among themselves how: “Did that really happen?” “I heard recently that the royal family’s home was attacked.” “Can’t believe somebody would try and scare poor Issac like that.” “What a little blue asshole.” “Hope the king lights this little marauder aflame!” Soon enough is the entire spectating crowd riled up into a maddening cheer, their numerous praises and encouragements coming out from their mouth being for the king to beat the little blue punk into a sobbing mess. Agh, great. Not only am I gonna die, I’ll go down in history as the jackass that deserves it…Maybe I just had this coming. Peering down to the demon king himself, Tore could see the blazing fury held within his very eyes; a wave of hellfire beginning to erupt from his entire body. Whelp, if I’m going out like this, better get as much fun outta it as I can.

Upon the realization of there being little way out of this predicament, indigo angel quickly decides to start off by delving straight down to where the fiery king stood; constantly flipping through the air as he plummets downwards with but a single leg sticking out. Right as the blue boy’s spinning axe kick was moments from slamming straight onto the demon’s horned head; the king halts the boy’s descending kick with just a single arm; Tore feeling as if he had hammered the back of his foot against a solid wall In a matter of moments does the demonic king let out a blazing burst of flames from his body that blows the blue boy away and send him out through the rest of the garden; the angel’s very body crashing straight through the stone fountain set in the middle and through numerous other flowers making up the rest. Tore manages to flip back onto his own two feet and grind himself to a skidding halt moments before he could hit the side of the unholy cage, soon glancing out in the direction he came from to behold a blaze of fire streak out towards him like a lunging serpent. As he witnesses his angelic foe spring up from the very flames he had cast forth, his majesty launches himself straight after him in a fiery explosion and reaches out in just a matter of moments. Hanging just above the indigo angel, the hellish royalty unleashes a blast of hellfire that sends the blue boy careening back down towards the earth below; the crowd inside cheering for the king as the angel crashes into the dirt.

Just above the cheering crowd of guests, Kingsley, Cayenne, and Damian all peer out a window overlooking the entire garden and peer out to the ensuing brawl between the angel and demon; all the while the boy genius question: “What’s going on!? Why is hell’s King trying to roast Tore alive!?” “Seriously, its been like half an hour since we split up. What the hell did we miss?” Damian asks as well. “Heh heh heh heh. Okay, so you guys are seriously not gonna believe the shitshow that blue dumbass wound up getting into.” Cayenne offers to elaborate.

Behind the spectating crowd gathered beneath them Renee joins in watching the ensuing fight alongside the numerous guests; asking one of them: “What on Earth is happening right now?” “I’m wishing to know the exact same thing.” the blonde hears someone beside her say. Peering off to her side, the blonde girl discovers the questioning voice to belong to none other than the princess herself; Vera adding: “Just what is my dad even thinking doing something like this.” “Seriously can’t believe that blue asshole broke into their royal family’s home and terrorized their family.” they hear someone vent. “Wait what!?” the princess exclaims. “No! He’s not like that. It’s all just one big misunderstanding. Does he even look like somebody like that to you.” Renee attempts to informs.

Despite most of the crowd either ignoring or dismissing the blonde, Vera peers back up towards the chaos and watches closely as her father continues to duke out against the angel; the unholy king letting loose a bevy of fire from his maw that transforms into a demonic creature of flames that pursues his majesty’s foe. The indigo angel glides away from the pursing monstrous blaze, fending away the fiery beast with a volley of pale rays; all the while the princess state how: “He does seem rather familiar. The blue mane, the white wings, the light coming out from his body; all of it’s just making bells ring in my head. Just where have I seen him before?” Its in thinking back to not so long ago that she remembers the moments she was just moments away from the cold grip of death; bleeding out underneath a pile of broken castle rubble, surrounded by darkness. In but seconds his the vial of shadows lifted away, her site blurred to everything except a figure dressed in light; that very same glow enveloping her and pulling her away from the brink of demise. Among her recovery does her vision start to return, all the while the figure began to fly away down the castle corridors; the princess only able to make out white wings and a blue mane from the retreating figure. “That person...It was him...Oh no.”

Hearing this from the princess, Renee looks over and sees Vera attempt to slip through the thick crowd in hopes of making it outside; only for the overwhelming numbers to shove her aside. Coming over to the princess’s side does the blonde help Vera off the floor, all the while hearing her state how: “If I can’t get through, I won’t be able to break dad’s cage in time to tell him.” “You know how to break it?” Renee questions. “I’ve seen my dad use this barrier many times and saw how he breaks it open when he’s done. But even if I got out there, I’m not sure how I could even reach up around it by myself.” Its in hearing the princess lament of such that Renee peek out through the window set beside the sliding glass door and gaze upwards to discover her boyfriend and his pals watching the ongoing brawl through a second story window: “I might know some people who can. Come on, we gotta hurry.” the blonde girl tells the princess as she races back from the crowd, the princess she tells this to feverishly following after her.

With just a single blast of white does the indigo angel blow away the pursuing flaming demon, the monstrous pyre evaporating in the ray of pale power. This tiny victory is unfortunately short lived however as a pillar of rising flames erupts right behind the boy with a demonic silhouette underneath its blaze. The very moment that Tore turns back towards the column of fire, a hand of fiery brimstone reach out from the flames and grasp hold of the angel’s neck, the blue boy feeling the incredible heat radiating underneath the rock palms grasp as the king of hell emerges out from the blazing inferno. Amidst struggling under his majesty’s burning grasp, the king himself take his other brimstone covered fist and prepares to swing its hard rock right into the angel’s face; Tore repeatedly beating against the rock clutching his neck tight, the brimstone cracking with each it. With the fifth strike does the boy manage to burst the brimstone holding him up apart and free himself from the demonic king’s grasp; though his escape proves too late as his majesty slugs the angel right in the face with his other brimstone gauntlet, sending Tore spiraling down towards a part of the garden lined with numerous statues.

Among the resulting rocky collection of dust and dirt, the king hovers back down upon the earth where he had struck the blue miscreant down to; peering around to a number of statues that lined out along the walkway wayside that bare items such as books, weapons, and other tools, some baring a sort of resemblance to both Kingsley and Chloe. In strolling along the garden path is his majesty in his search, the hellish lord is left unaware of the angel himself hiding behind a statue of a beautiful woman holding a scale of justice in her hand; Tore himself peering out through the rest of the garden for anyway to tip the metaphorical scale. Okay Tore, you went through this before and barely survived the last time against this guy. Taking this guy head on right now is a seriously bad idea.  Maybe not with what’s in the tank right now, but maybe with what’s around. A bit of juice outta turn things around. Glancing out towards the foliage that makes up the garden, the indigo angel realizes his options in drawing out nearby power having been cut short; most of the flowers, vines, and other lively greens that once stood in bloom among the decor now engulfed in a blaze of hellfire Doesn’t seem there’s a lot left to work with here, but what about outside; All the other plants and animals out in the city. Should be more than enough to borrow from it all to make it through this.

Setting his mind on the life that lies beyond the garden, Tore clasps his hands together as he focuses on the plants, people, and animals that dwell within the city. Come on, need something here. Yet no matter how hard he focuses on all that live beyond the garden, even to those with the manor just outside; the angel opens his eyes to find not even a single bit of colorful light coating his body. Wh-what? Why hasn’t anything came yet? Focused on all the living things in Townsville, but there’s not even a single glow of color here. Why is this happening now!?

Left at a flustered loss over the lack of power he had failed to gather, the blue boy has little time to ponder how or why as he feels an incredible heat come from behind and turns back to witness the stone statue he hides behind start to melt before his eyes; Tore crawling backwards as he sees the demon king standing right behind its stone. Raising his fist up high, the demon king’s hands suddenly combust in a blazing fury as he starts to swing them down to the angel before him; Tore managing to flee back away before his majesty hammers his fist down to the ground in a blazing quake. Among the bursting flames does Tore peek back in his retreat to see his hellish foe relentlessly pursue after; his mind running a hundred miles an hour thinking of what other options he has. Fine, if anything out there won’t help out, then there’s might be something in here that can; something that can quell this guy’s fiery temper. But what? Among his swiftly look around does the blue boy manage to spot the remains of the broken fountain; some of the pipes sticking out from the stone and dribbling water out from within. Hey, that might work.

Before the indigo angel could take the chance to delve down towards the busted fountain; the king himself swoops right beneath him with hands of blazing fury; Tore evading his grasp as the demon cast forth a bevy of flames up towards the boy above. In the middle of evading his majesty’s blistering hellfire, Tore delves right down towards the king himself to deliver a couple of kicks to counter with; one right in the stomach and one straight into his face. Attempting to send out a third one however, the indigo angel winds up getting his leg caught right in his hellish foe’s clutches; the demon king seeing fit in the moment to light the boy’s leg ablaze. Enduring the burning pain, the blue boy swings the leg the demon king holds straight upwards and flings his majesty up into the air above; following up by firing a beam of white straight upwards out to the ascending demon and using its force to descend down towards the ground.

Recovering from the unexpected counterattack, the demonic king plummets down towards the plume of stone dust with his burning red eyes locked to the cloud; seeing the figure of the boy he pursues. While the king of hell drops downwards towards his angelic foe, the dusty cloud starts to let him see the blue boy grasp something from under his feet and uproot it up to the surface; ultimately caught off guard when witnessing the angel pull out a massive pipe pointed up towards him. “Get ready for the flood!” Tore warns with a smile. Descending down too fast to stop himself in time, all his demonic majesty could do was grind himself to a halt just before the open end of the pipe; preparing to face an entire torrent of gushing water from the quaking pipe. Alas when the pipe finally stops shaking, nothing but a pitiful stream is all that drizzles out from its steel depths; Tore looking inside to wonder if that was really all the water it had as the king lowers his guard. “Does...does he not know people shut their water off when working on their piping?” Kingsley questions. “Oh my fucking god…” Cayenne sighs while shaking her head.

In realizing the angel’s attempts to thwart him having blown up right in his face; the hellish king uncovers his face and tilts his burning scowl down upon him; returning his remark with: “Cute. Wish to see what a real flood is like?” With but the snap of his finger, the entire garden ground underneath starts to violently tremble as fissures form between what foliage had yet to burn; the remaining flowers combusting into flames when geysers of lava spew out from earth. The fiery hot goo swiftly covering the earth, Tore leaps upwards into the air to avoid its molten heat; the boy peering down in his ascent to see nothing but a few statues and rocky stands peek out from under the melting lava.

Taking in the view of the unholy red prison starting to flood with the fiery hot goo from the second floor, Damian claims to both his friends how: “Okay, this is getting too outta hand. We need to do something.” “My thoughts exactly.” the spice queen declares before leaping out through the window and towards the scene. “Cayenne, wait!” Kingsley attempts to warn. Spurring her friends warning aside does Cayenne charge straight towards the side of the unholy prison; putting as much force as she could as she rams her shoulder straight onto its side. The very moment that the spice queen touches the surface of the barrier is a powerful pulse of hellish power unleashed, one that blast Cayenne aside and have her crash right into the side of the manor. “The hell was that shit!” “A rather counter intuitive attempt with solve this with force, I’d say. Allow me.” the ghost boy scolds her with as he hovers out towards the red cage for a go. Approaching the hellish barricades surface does the ghastly young man turn himself completely intangible, gliding out towards the red wall as fast as he could. Yet strangely does this as well prove fruitless; the unholy cage stopping Damain right their and pushing him away; despite being totally incorporeal. “What!? How!? Why can’t I phase through it!?”

Its midst their questioning mysticism that Kingsley hears somebody behind him give them their answer; responding to the ghost boy’s quarrel with: “Only royal blood can unlock the seal. Without doing so, everything, even souls, are kept in and out of its unholy walls.” Hearing this answer, the boy genius quickly peers back to find both his blonde lover and the princess of demon’s herself standing behind him; Kingsley going: “Renee! Wait, you know how to break it open?” “Indeed I do. Those chunks of brimstone that line the barricade are the locks that ultimately keep the cage together. If they are unlocked, the cage shall shatter.” Vera elaborates to them. “So, you know where the key is?” Renee questions. Upon hearing the blonde girl ask this does the princess take off the pointed crown set atop her head and pricks one of her fingers with one of its sharp ends; a thick crimson leaking right out from the tip of her finger. “It’s right here.” “So you were being literal? Why?” “It’s a family practice. With but a drop will the brimstone locks break, I simply need someone to break through the layer’s underneath to reach them.” In hearing the princess explain all of this does Kingsley peer down through the window to see both of his friends still struggling to pierce through the prisons unholy defenses; Cayenne constantly beating against its surface while Damian repeatedly attempts to phase through, both yielding little to no success. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough. We need to do more than that.”

Inside the unholy prison itself, Tore continues to flee from the grasp of the demonic king of hell in a boiling sweat; all while beholding his majesty thrusts his palms down towards the lava beneath them both and commanding the molten liquid to spew up in geysers after the angel. As the blue boy weaves around the spewing strands of red hot goo, he could feel his very skin on the cusp of boiling as the incredible heat from these flung strand beats down upon him. Finding a couple of approaching waves of lava far too large to evade, the indigo angel instead fires out rays of pure pale power against these encroaching hellish waves; effectively dispersing the boiling before it could engulf him. Despite having spurned away his hellish foe’s cascading waves, his efforts proves to be nothing more than a distraction as king of hell plummets downwards from above with a blazing flame in the palm of his hand. The very moment that Tore turns back is one that is far too late, discovering his demonic royalty hovering above and unleashing the hellfire he holds in his hand; engulfing the angel in a plume of his fiery wrath as he’s blasted back.

While holding in the overwhelming desire to scream out, the blue boy careens through the fiery garden air in a smoking mess; threatening to crash right into the side of the hellish red barrier. But in the nick of time does Tore manage to regain his aerial balance and stop himself moments before he could slam straight into the side of the cage; the smoke enveloping his body disappearing to reveal the numerous burns along his skin. Okay. Can’t really call on any sort of power from outside. Every living thing in here that could’ve been a source of power is submerged in a sheet of boiling lava. And the King of hell is still aiming to burn away what skin is still left. If there’s nothing left around here to draw life from… With his demonic foe on the verge of striking him down, the indigo angel takes his focus away on the seething burns left along his body and starts to concentrate on what life he held within; the pain he feels eventually numbing as a colorful power starts to well from within the depths of his soul.

“Enough dawdling here. The time of your punishment is at hand. Say what prayers you have left, for they will not be answers for where you shall be sent!” the king of hell tells the angel before lunging after with hellfire engulfing his entire hand. Right when his hellish majesty was on the verge of striking the boy down with a furious hellfire, his assault thwarted on the spot when the blue boy grasps his wrist moments before he could be struck. Left astonished by the unexpected grab, his hellish majesty glances down to the blue boy as Tore in kind peers upwards; the angel’s eyes flashing a rainbow of colors along his pupils. ...Then I’ll just use what life I got left.

His fist coated in a colorful aura, the indigo angel straight slugs his demonic foe right in the chest; the incredible force of the assault hard enough to send his majesty crashing down into the pool of lava, with the red hot goo splashing onto the sides of the red unholy cage. “Whoa!” Kingsley exclaims. “Holy shit!” Cayenne shouts. “Dad!” Vera screams.

Yet mere moments after taking the descending splashdown straight into the pool of fresh hellish lava, the demonic king surfaces up out from the molten goo in an ascending burst straight after the angel above; globs of the boiling liquid clutched in his hands. Closing in on the indigo angel, his majesty scatters the globs of fiery goo straight out towards the boy above in little pieces. With small bullets of flaming lava coming straight at him, Tore rockets straight down towards the approaching flurry of flung lava; sticking his arms out towards the spread as he begins to twirl through the air in a straightforward aileron roll. The colorful life force held within his hands combined with the swirling velocity, the indigo angel spur away the flung scatter of molten liquid; piercing straight through the storm and towards its very sender.

Upon nearing his demonic majesty does the blue boy cease spinning through the air, focusing all the power he has in a single fist; ready to slug the demonic royalty straight in the face. Alas when Tore was on the cusp of punching his foe right in the shnoze, the king of hell weaves right around his swing with hellfire coating his fist; his majesty countering back with own brand of a fiery strike straight onto the boy’s backside. The burning assault sending him careening across the blistering hot garden air, Tore sticks his legs out towards the side of the cage he threatens to crash right into and manages to land right on his feet; the unholy prison wall letting out a furious pulse of flames that launches the blue boy back out towards the very demon that had conjured it. In but a matter of moment does the indigo angel return out towards the king of hell and swings his leg straight out to his majesty, the glowing blue boy landing an overwhelming kick right to the king’s side hard enough to send his fiery foe careening aside. As the demonic royalty recovers from the swift counterattack, the indigo angel thrusts his palms out towards the demonic royalty and fire out an incredible wave of colorful life out towards his majesty; the incredible ray widening exponentially as it streaks through the blistering hot air. The colorful ray proving too wide to dodge, the king of hell commands the magma beneath him to rise up before the encroaching wave and hardens its molten goo into fiery stone in but a matter of seconds. Though the wall of hardened lava manages to take initial brunt of the colorful ray, it quickly begins to weaken under the constant stream of power and breaks apart in a matter of seconds; the overwhelming blast engulfing the fiery demon in a flash of of bright colors.

Once the light from the incredible wave starts to finally dim, the indigo angel peers down to the pool of lava beneath to discover his fiery foe left floating along the surface; then witnessing his majesty swiftly snap right out from his dazing stupor in a roar of blazing hellfire. Arising out from the molten pool does the king of hell once more face the radiant colorful angel with a burning rage reflected in his bright red eyes; his entire body engulf in a scorching fury as he proclaims that: “That’s it! This has gone on long enough. I thought of making this quick, but you seem to wish for this to drag on. No more! I’m going to fry you alive from where you float!” While listening to the hellish devil’s decree, an encroaching dizziness begins to seep its way into the boy’s head; his vision blurring in and out as he threatens to pass out from exhaustion. Come on, don’t give out just yet. Just a bit more.

Right outside the barrier do both Damian and Cayenne hover above the unholy prison with both Vera and Kingsley riding upon them; the boy genius informing the spice queen that: “We need to break open that cage as fast as we can. Cayenne, take Vera around and break the locks holding it together.” “On it.” Cayenne simply complies with, gliding down to the crown of the hellish cage with the Vera atop her back. “Right. Damian, I need you to take me over to the water pressure controls. They’re right down in there.” the boy genius then orders the ghostly young man he rides on; pointing to a little steel shack set along the corner of the backyard. “Alright, hang on.” the ghost boy complies, delving down towards the very shack his friends pointed out. As they dive down towards the small steel shack, Damian turns both himself and the boy genius on his back totally intangible and phases right on inside; Kingsley hopping right off his back when landing inside and race straight over to a set of pressure valves and control panels within its walls.

While the boy genius starts to get to work on the panel and turning the numerous valves; the ghost boy behind him argues: “Kingsley, are you sure about this? The pipes underneath all that lava are probably sealed shut by now. I doubt any water would get through, even if we break the barrier.” “I know, but that’s not what this is for. When we bust it open, all that lava inside’s probably gonna spill out all over the place. So if we can’t stop it from spilling, I think it’s better if we try and slow it down while keeping it from reach the manor so no one watching all this gets hurt.” “If you didn’t want anyone in the splash zone, why didn’t we break them all up first?” “With what little time we have to work with, I got Renee to try and work on that, maybe clear a way for them to escape.”

“Seriously people. We need you to evacuate the estate before the situation here becomes any worse. Don’t any of you understand how severe this could turn?” Renee tries to reach through the observing crowd with. “You’re kidding, right?” “I sure am not gonna leave now and miss all this.” “I wound up traveling across the world just to see what this new team has up their sleeves and sure as hell ain’t leaving now.” Among their overall noncompliance can the blonde not help but let out a frustrating growl; swiftly calming herself down with a little breath before she could do or say anything crazy. Oh Kingsley I seriously hope you have a plan working for this.

Above the very barrier before them do all of them watch as Cayenne hovers just above its very top; the princess riding atop her eyeing the brimstone chunks along the outside. “So, ya saying that these locks are under a sheet of brimstone right?” “Indeed, but none of you have yet to tell me how you plan to break through their layers.” Vera claims. “The hell’s so fun about telling you? Why don’t ya just see for yourself.” “Wait, what do you mean by tha-” Just before the princess could finish questioning the spice queen’s statement do they both start diving straight down towards one of the brimstone slabs along the unholy barricade; Vera holding on for dear life as Cayenne prepares to strike away at the stone. In just a single swing does the Spice queen manage to bust through the brimstone’s outer shell; swiping away the debris to reveal a hellish insignia with a hole dead on the middle. “Damn, that looks fuckin sick. You need to dunk your finger in there or…?” “No, no. Th-that won’t be necessary. Just give me a moment.” the princess tells her, her body still quaking from the unexpected drop down. Hovering her finger right over hellish insignia,  the princess lets the blood seeping from her finger drip straight into the hole; the entire face alights in a glow of orange and lets out a horrible shriek from under its stone. While covering their ears from the trembling screech, both of them witness the brimstone crumble apart in a burst of hellfire; the unholy prison’s red walls starting to flicker as the lock falls apart. “Hell yeah. One lock down, three more go.”

Gliding within the burning air of the red cage itself does Tore continue to fight off the devils hellish assault, pushing away the demonic king with a pulse of pure colorful life. In being pushed back that the king of hell command the lava beneath in to rise out from the earth and bellow out towards the indigo angel; the intense light from the boiling lava covering the boy as he rushes outwards. With but a wave of his hand, the blue boy casts forth a colorful wave that disperses the fiery hot goo wave and rockets out towards the king himself; his entire body coated in a lively colorful aura as he nears. Seeing the indigo angel incoming, the demon waves his arms upwards to conjure a whirlwind of fiery hot flames from right underneath the blue boy; engulfing the boy in a tornado of blistering heat. Tore blocks his body from the fiery inferno blowing at him from all sides, enduring through the searing flames as his body starts to glow brighter and brighter in a multitude of colors; a light that the king beholds beyond the blaze of his whirlwind. Finally does Tore unleash all he had in an overwhelming shockwave that disperse the flaming whirlwind, the almighty push casting his hellish fiery foe straight down into the pool of molten liquid.

From this overwhelming wave, the colorful aura that irradiates out from the boy’s body starts to fade away to unveil his skin left nearly gray; Tore clutching his heart as he tries to catch his breath. “Ah...Oh god...Can’t keep going anymore...Might just burn myself out.” “You’ll burn either way.” a voice from below claims. Peering down beneath his feet does he see a pillar of lava spew out from the below and flutters back to avoid the seering goo; his escape failing to take him far as an arm pops out from the molten liquid and tightly grasp his neck, the devilish pyro emerging out and finishing with: “I promise such.” Midst his struggle to free himself from the fiery king’s clutches, the blue boy grabs hold of the king’s horns and pushes back with as much strength as he had left to muster; his majesty letting out a seething growl as he begins to take in a deep breath. When seeing his hellish foe taking in a deep breath, he realizes all too well what the king’s next move was and shove his knee straight into the devil’s jaw; the indigo angel keeping the devil’s trap shut as bits of lava escaping from the demon’s nose. The demonic king’s cheeks puff bright orange as he starts to choke on all the excess lava gathering in his mouth; tearing up as he finally lets go of the blue boy and kicks him away, vomiting all the molten goo out from his maw. The demonic royalty takes a brief second to cough out bits of lava as he rubs the part of his chin the angel had kneed; his other hand trembling as he peers over to the blue boy and calls him a: “Cheeky little bastard.”

Just outside the unholy prison do all the numerous dug up pipes littering the garden starts to spew out a torrent of rushing water; all of it starting to soak everywhere from the stone paths, the grass, the foliage, every drop spreading out along every inch of the backyard. Up along the crown of the devilish cage does Vera let a drop of her blood peter out from her finger and fall straight into the brimstone lock; the symbol surrounding the hole letting out an unholy shriek before crumbling to pieces. Witnessing the red power that makes up the bubble flicker more frequently, the spice queen claims that: “Just one more.” Right when they were about to hover out towards the final lock, both of them hear a familiar voice call out from the distance; peering out to find both Kingsley and Damian gliding over as the boy genius orders: “Heya, lets switch!” “On it!” Cayenne complies, taking grasp of the princess atop her back. “Wait, what the hell do you think your-” Without even a single warning does the spice queen straight up toss Vera up out towards the ghostly young man hovering above, all the while Kingsley leaps down as she arises. Almost simultaneously, the boy genuis manages to land right in Cayenne’s arms just as Damian catches the princess amidst her ascent; Vera taking a brief moment to calm herself while riding atop the ghost boy’s back. “Oh...Oh dear…”

Held within the spice queen’s grasp, Kingsley peers down and watches as the open pipes soak his backyard in more and more water; Cayenne asking the boy: “You wanna say what you got in mind or are we just pissing in the wind?” “At this rate, most of the water here won’t be enough to stop all that lava. I think we need to do something else to keep it from reaching the manor, something I think you excel at.” “Whatcha got in mind for me to fuck up?”

After explaining what else the boy genius has in mind, Cayenne hovers out over towards a stone column set over the garden and setting Kingsley down at its very top; the boy genius watching as the spice queen fly out near the manor and delve down towards the ground set between it and the garden. All the numerous guest spectating these events jump back as Cayenne dive bombs down along the ground and scrapes through the dirt with her bare fists. Seeing his spicy partner starting to make out a ditch between his home and backyard, Kingsley peering over to Damian and the princess hover above the cage.

When floating just inches away from the last brimstone lock guarded in a layer of brimstone, Vera wonders to the ghost boy: “I do wonder how you plan to break through the layer to reach the lock.” “Oh please, I’m not a brute. There won’t be any breaking needed.” he claims. Gently grasping the princess’s arm the ghost boy turns her limb completely transparent, Vera letting out a little shriek before Damian tells her to: “Calm down. It’s alright. Just simply dunk your hand right in where the hole is.” “Uh...okay.” Carefully, Vera does what he instructs and is astonished to see her arm phase straight through the brimstone like nothing was there. The blood from the demon princess’s finger dribbles down from the tip straight down through the brimstone; soaking through until dripping into the lock hole underneath. Like before does the hard rock begin to scream out before it falls apart, the entire red bubble holding both her father and the boy he fights trembling at the seems. “What is going on?” the ghost boy questions. “I suggest we flee before it burst open.”

Upon the princess’s warning does Damian take her away from the red cage as it starts to quake far more violently; suddenly collapsing in a powerful burst that breaks the glass of the manor and knocks the people inside on their asses. With the walls of the unholy cage broken does the lava that was kept inside start to spill out further through the garden; the guests of the manor running like hell as a big wave of the molten goo flows out towards them. When arising right out from the ditch that she had just dug out, Cayenne sees some of the lava melting the stone column her pal stands atop off; the base of the pillar melting away as it threatens to tumble down into the scorching lava. Immediately does the spice queen spring into action and dart straight towards her falling comrade, snatching Kingsley right out from the air moments before he could take the fiery plunge. While hovering above, Kingsley watches as the lava that spills starts to collide with the water streaming through the backyard; only slowing the molten liquid down as he head straight for the manor. “Come on. Come on.” the boy genius utters. With sweat running down their foreheads, Kingsley and Cayenne watch as the lava starts to fill up the freshly dug out ditch set before the manor; growing more tense as the lava starts to reach the top. But with how deep Cayenne had dug and the running water starting to slow it down, all the lava that spills out manages to just rim the very top of the ditch, both of them letting out a huge sigh knowing their home and all the people within were safe and sound. “Holy shit...So, now how are we gonna take care of that shit show.” the spice queen wonders, pointing out towards the continuing brawl.

Despite the red cage that had encased them both having vanished, the demonic king continues his onslaught against the indigo angel; slugging the boy with fiery swing after another and scorching him further with every strike. Though Tore attempts to counter the king’s flames, he proves far too exhausted and spent to reliably get any hits of his own in; failing to even raise a single hand up as all that be left for him is to endure his majesty’s blazing wrath. Placing his palm right underneath the blue boy’s head, the king unleashes a burst of searing flames right from above; a fiery blast that sends the angel plummeting down towards the earth. Crashing down into the charred soil below, Tore still feels the scorching heat beat against his back; despite there not even being a single glob of molten liquid left. When attempting to pull himself off the blistering hot earth, the blue boy only able to pull up onto his ass moments before his demonic foe lands before him; Tore left frozen in place as the king of hell looks down upon him with a fiery glare. Not even a word is spoken between them as his majesty raises his hand to the sky and engulfs his arm in a thick burning layer of hellfire; the light it emits rivaling that of the sun. Whelp, really facing the heat now, and with a nearly empty tank of gas too. Body here’s practically more burns than skin. And lookin like the final stop here is a one way road straight into the fiery depths of oblivion. If this is the way this road trip ends, better just use what fuel I got left. These determined thoughts ringing through his head, Tore faces the demonic king head on as the colorful aura that had once coated him returns in full force; its rainbow glow matching that of the very fires that he faces.

Seeing the two on the verge of clashing at any moment: Vera peers down to her ghostly ride and demands that: “No! Damian, let go of me!” “From this high up!? But-” “There’s no time! Just do it!” On Vera’s request does the ghost boy complies and releases the demon princess from his grasp, letting her plummet down towards both her father and the angel; the princess gazing down to witness both her father and the angel lunging out towards one another. Right as the two were about to lunge upon each other in a clash of lively flames does Vera drop between them both; urging the two to suddenly stop dead in their tracks, their blinding light dimming as they behold the princess standing between them.

Even as her legs quake from the drop that she had just endured, the demonic princess stands before the fury of her burning father and demand out from him that: “Daddy, you need to stop, right now!” “Vera?...Why!? After this miscreant broke into our home, scared your mother and brother, stole the family treasure, and beat me unconscious! Why after all of that do you wish for his life to be sparred!?” “Because he had saved mine!” the princess answers, his daughter’s responds quelling some of the king’s burning fury.

In my hurry through the castle hall’s, parts of the roofs had collapsed onto me and buried me underneath their dark red stone; it honestly felt as if my chest had been smashed open and that death was knocking on my door. That is until I started to feel a warm glow run throughout my body and return me to reality once more. The unbearable pain that I had suffered from had vanished in a matter of seconds as I began to return; awaking from my stupor to find my dress torn open in places where I had felt this agony. Rising up from the behind the rubble, all I could see retreating from me was a figure donning a blue mane and wings of pale white gliding deeper into the castle. Since then, I couldn’t help but wonder if those events had actually transpired or if they were simply a hallucination brought on by a concussion. But seeing this boy with my own eyes proved to me that it was no mere illusion; if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before him tonight.”

His daughter having told this side of the story to her, the demonic king takes a calming breath as the flames enveloping his body disperse; quelling the murderous rage he had gardened towards the blue boy. Yet does a thin layer of doubt remain as his majesty marches right past his loving daughter and over to the boy behind her; Vera staring in concern to her father as he walks beside her while uttering: “Daddy?” Standing tall just inches away from the kneeling angel, Tore takes up a stance as the king stares down upon him with a fiery orange glare; the only words that he says as a demand to the boy to: “Start explain. Now.”

About a half an hour passes as the lava that dwells within the ditch starts to cool from the water flowing from the pipes; whatever fires and flames that lingered having been dowsed out. Sitting patiently beside him does the fiery royalty listen to the indigo angel he was but moments away from roasting in burning hellfire as Tore goes on to finish with: “Once I realized who the Kybr truly were and what they were like; I wound up having to fight Mall in hopes of stopping him. If it weren’t for my sibs and their friends helping me to stop Mall and destroying the warp gate’s core, the Kybr would’ve wound up flooding the universe.” “Is that all?” the devil beside the angel questions. “Yep…” the blue boy simply responds back to with hints of disappointment. Hearing the last of what the blue boy has to say for himself, the king of hell lets out a small sigh as he rises back on his feet and stroll out towards his daughter; telling her to: “Come on, Vera. We’re heading back home.” “Um, okay. Thanks again for all your help, Vanguard League.” the princess thanks with as she follows her father out towards the backdoor. The misses of the estate coming out from the sliding glass door, she winds up running into the exiting royalty; who apologizes to her with: “I apologize for the mess I had caused tonight. I promise to pay off the damages.”

Despite the night having just been saved, Kingsley can’t help but peer over to the blue boy; watching the angel as he slouches over with his hands over his face. Before he could go over to try and comfort the blue boy, he suddenly feels somebody giving him a big pat on his back and glances over to find Cayenne congratulating him with: “Damn, Kingsley. You’d did a fine ass job keeping yer cool under all that heat.” “Uh, thanks. Pretty surprised myself on how cleanly I handled it all. I thought for sure I was gonna crack among the action.” “Well, I can safely assure that you handled it all with such incredible grace and fortitude; even I was shaking through most of it all.” the ghost boy hovers over and praises. Racing right over to his side does Renee give the boy genius a great big hug, embracing her boy tight as she claims how: “I told you that all those worries you had were just in your head. Even when things turn out their worst, you become your very best and bring out everyone’s A game.” “You guys think so? Maybe being this whole leader thing won’t be as bad as I was inflating it to be.” Kingsley corrects. “I wish I could say the same about our garden.” he then hears his mother lament.

Peering aside, the boy finds her mother grieving over the site of her now destroyed backyard; what remained of the numerous colorful flowers and bushes that made up its natural beauty now left charred and burned beyond any sort of recognition. “It might not be that bad, Mrs. Spicer. We could just rebuild and replant everything again.” Renee attempts to cheer her up with. “I’m not sure that’ll be possible. The soil itself is far too charred and burned for anything planted here to grow. I’m not sure if it’ll ever recover.” Damian points out, a statement which only furthers the mother’s sorrow.

Rising out from his self pity does the indigo angel behold the consequences of what his fight with the demon king had entailed; the smoke wafting from the burnt foliage covering the night sky. “God...all this is just my fault. None of this wouldn’t have happened if I was here. If I didn’t go with all and wind up nearly dooming everyone.” “Oh Tore...yeah it pretty much is.” “Cayenne!” Kingsley snaps. “What? It’s cause if him that the king of hell through a big shit fit in the first place.” “But he was just trying to help us with the party; how were we supposed to-” “No...Cayenne’s right. I gotta try and make up for all this. All the trouble I just wound up bringing here.” the blue boy states. “Just how do you plan to start? This garden’s practically lifeless the way it is.” the ghost boy tells him. “...I might know how.”

Among saying such does the angel start to stroll out towards the very center of the destroyed garden, taking in a deep breath of the smoke arising from the earth. Once standing right in the midst of the ruined garden, the indigo angel exhales the breath from his lunges and closes his eyes while clasping his hands in a prayer; once again focusing all the plants, animals, and people that reside outside the garden wall. All throughout the city are little bits of colorful light drawn out from within every single thing alive within Townsville; be it from the biggest of elephants held within the zoo to the smallest of insects that crawl along the underbelly of the town. The countless bits of life all flutter through the city skyline and gather out towards the upper district; every single piece taken straight out to the backyard where they all drawn within the blue boy’s body. Kingsley, Cayenne, Damian, Renee, and the Misses stare upon the indigo angel as his entire body and the wings on his back is enveloped in a rainbow of aura that alights the entire backyard in a colorful glow. Holding all the lively power he had gathered throughout Townsville, Tore thrusts his arms straight down into the charred earth beneath his feet and sends it all surging through the soil; the once burned and scorched ground now glowing alight in a multitude of lively colors that shine across the neighborhood.

Soon enough does this brilliant light start to fade, letting all that dwell within the once ruined backyard all behold the overflowing flora that spreads out before them; numerous flowers, plants and tree’s of dozens of families and species now standing before them all in an incredible burst of nature and vegetation. “What?” Cayenne utters. “Wow.” Renee softly awes. “Amazing.” Damian gawks. “Our garden. It’s practically overwhelming. Everything’s flourishing greater than ever.” the misses of the estate gushes. Peering over is everyone’s attention drawn to the blue boy who had made it all possible, resting soundly against the base of a thick oak whose height rivals the manor before it. “Can’t believe he did all this in mere seconds.” the blonde girl surmises. “He brought not just the plants, but the soil itself back from the clutches of death.” the ghost boy marvels. “If he can do all this. Just what the hell are we supposed to do about this blue bastard.” Cayenne questions. Kingsley stares out to the indigo angel left soundly sleeping underneath the massive thick oak; letting his burns rest as the nightly wind brushes the leaves down from their branches and flutters onto the slumbering blue boy. “I don’t know Cayenne. I really don’t know.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you all for sticking around here for this long. And I wanted to start off this season by finally firing a Chekov's gun that I set up a while ago. Also wanted to do something with Kingsley processing the thoughts of being a leader to a budding organization with big plans since it wasn't really touched upon. Also add in some little details that weave into the mainline story here.

I'd say I'm at a near competent in terms of writing skills, but there's always more out there I could learn from and improve. I hope all of you stick around to see that process take place. Thank you.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 15

Warnings: language, literally zero editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: Wow I’m back to updating this story??? A million years later?? I am so sorry to anyone who was following this - but if you’re still reading and still interested, here’s an update! God as my witness, I will finish this. I actually have more ideas and inspiration for where the story’s going now - plus we’re all getting quarantined, so these WIPs have never had a better chance of getting done. Anyways, here it goes! Please let me know what you think! 

The lone monitor beeped steadily, plaintively, in the early morning quiet of the hospital room. Air rattled through the breathing machine, filling unknowing lungs over and over. A starched white blanket was pulled up to his chest, covering most of the bandages wrapped around his torso from the hours of emergency surgery. His left arm was already in a cast and laid on top of the blanket, resting against his stomach. 

Natasha felt sick.

And angry. 

How could she have been so stupid? Acting like a goddamn rookie, for starters, and running to Nick to fix their situation - letting things get out of hand with the Avengers, failing to convince Y/N to get out of here before things got bad. And they were only going to get worse. 

If Nick had been identified, then they were all in danger. And there was no fucking way, to her mind, that he couldn’t have been I.D.’d. This wasn’t a random accident, regardless of whatever the hell the local police wanted to write on the incident report. It was an attack, a warning. First blood. 

Her knee bounced in her seat by the bed, plastic upholstery squeaking with every shift in her weight. She chewed her nails - a habit she thought she had finally managed to kick. A tall nurse, dark curls piled into a bun on top of her head, came in to check Nick’s vitals; she was quiet, efficient, offering Nat a sympathetic smile. 

“If you need anything, just contact the nurse’s station, ok?” Her pink bubblegum, tucked in the back corner of her mouth, was visible when she talked. “And there’s a coffee machine around the corner, in case you need your fix before the cafeteria opens up.”

Nat nodded her thanks as the woman slipped out of the room, her white nursing clogs creaking a little, not yet broken in. 

The sky outside the window continued to brighten, a clear and cold winter morning; she wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she decided to have that coffee after all. Massaging her temples, she shuffled down the hallway towards the flickering glow of the machine. Her boots echoed on the tiles in the empty hall, the low hum of the coffee machine filling the little alcove near the elevators. It whirred and hissed and spat out her coffee into a blue paper cup with slow, deliberate drips. 

How had she let it get this far? What was she going to do without him? And who the hell could she trust? She winced as the first sip of coffee burned her tongue. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust the team…but she’d gone to Nick in the first place because they were no longer being objective - Barnes especially, and Rogers was only enabling him. 

Her eyes on the waxed linoleum floor, she barely noticed him standing outside the door of the hospital room. Steve squared his shoulders, directly in front of her, his eyebrows tilted at a thunderous angle. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?” he gritted out, the hoarse edge of his voice scraping in his throat. 

Nat didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, she let him stew in the boil of his righteous anger, air tightening between them. The coffee had cooled a bit, but left a funny taste in her mouth - the flavor mixed badly with the mints she’d been sucking on an hour ago. The muscles in her neck and back ached from hunching by Nick’s bed all night, and she arched a little on her feet, stretching and flexing, though the early morning tightness never quiet left her muscles. 

Finally, when the flare of Steve’s nostrils told her he was on the verge of making a scene, she gestured toward the door with her coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you head in there and see for yourself?”

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned and let himself into the hushed dimness of the hospital room. He filled the doorway - he filled most doorways - and from behind Natasha wished he could march into this and save the day, the way he always wanted to. At the foot of the bed, he stopped and rested a hand on the mobile tray waiting there, now cleared of the uneaten food from last night. His mouth turned further down, matching the turn of his eyes as he watched the sleeping man tucked into crisp hospital linens. After all these years, I was so strange to see Nick this way - weak, still, not in command. It shook something loose inside of him, but he tamped it down, cracking the knuckles of his fist. 

“You know who did this?” he said, his voice a low growl under the tone of the monitors. Behind him, Nat closed the door with a soft click. 

“Of course I do - don’t you?” She slipped behind him, sipping from her coffee, and took up her chair by the bed again. 

Big hands curling and uncurling, Steve remained silent. From her spot in the squeaky hospital chair, Nat watched the slant of his profile, reading the rage in every line. 

“Rumlow is dead,” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“But not the rest of them.”

“Without a leader? They’re just a bunch of thugs.” Steve shook his head. “There’s someone else pulling the strings - someone smarter.” He nodded towards Nick’s prone body. “Someone who knew about Nick. Maybe about all of us.”

Natasha nodded slowly, one finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Usually she enjoyed being right. 

Steve scrubbed at his face with his hands, blowing a harsh breath past his lips. He turned away from the hospital bed and paced along the edge of the room, towards the window. With the thin curtain drawn, pale sunlight cast shadows beneath his eyes, sharped the noble angle of his nose. HE never dreamed they’d be standing here, years deep in a life built on lies and duty. Fresh from the army, him and Buck, and no plans - that’s when Sam approached them. Intelligence work, a chance to do something important, to keep fighting the good fight on the home front. 

“They’re all in danger.” Natasha’s voice scraped at the edges of her throat. “You know that, Steve.” 

“I know.”

“It’s time.” He turned to look at her, bits of hair falling from her ponytail to frame her face. Bits of mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, bloodshot and heavy. 

“Make the call,” Steve said, looking back towards the window. “Get Pierce if you have to. It’ll piss off Stark to go over his head, but I’m not worried about his ego.”

Nat licked her lower lip, tracing the chapped skin. 

“What about Barnes and his girlfriend?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the arm of her chair. “I can’t see him being eager to burst their happy little bubble.”

Steve sighed through his nose, crossing his huge arms across his chest. The monitors beeped a lonely rhythm behind him. 

“I”ll handle Bucky. Just get everything ready - make all the arrangements. Do what you have to do.” 

  ***********                                                                                                  

“So for dinner, I’m thinking…we still have that spaghetti squash in the fridge? I could whip up some kind of sauce to go with it…” she peaked her head up over the door of the fridge. “Sound good to you, Buck?” 

Startled, Bucky’s head popped up from his phone. 

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said, ducking back down and resuming the rapid movement of his thumb. 

With a frown, Y/N hip-checked the door closed, bottles rattling inside. 

“Are you listening to me, Bucky Barnes?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the fridge. 

He looked up again - a well-developed sense of self-preservation kicked in when he caught that dangerous glint in her eyes. 

“Yes - yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sighed, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Whatever you want for dinner is good - I’m fine with the spaghetti squash.”

She was never so easily distracted. 

“What was so interesting?” she nodded his direction. “You’ve been glued to that thing all afternoon.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, rounding the edge of the counters to approach her in the kitchen. Soft hands reached for her hips, reeling her in closer, sharing heat and heartbeats. The scent of his cologne drifted up on the air between them - spicy, warm, just subtle enough to remain sexy. He leaned in close and pressed his lisp to her forehead, devoted and sweet, and always properly apologetic. 

“I”m sorry, baby,” he said, squeezing her waist softly. “It’s just Steve-”

“Steve?” She looked up at him with a frown, neat little line forming between her brows. “Steve has been blowing up your phone?”

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “It sounds like total bullshit, but I swear that’s all.”

“What’s going on with Steve?” 

Bucky sucked in a deep slow breath, hoping to hide his hesitation. Their “club business” had always taken first place, first priority…the job came first. The job was important. They were saving lives, putting away criminals. But now his girl was pouting at him in the kitchen, and he’s so tired, so goddamn tired all of a sudden - of all of it. Of being a public servant or a hero or whatever the hell. Of duty. He wants to pack it all up and just start driving. Move back to the city - or hell, even the suburbs would be nice. He’d take Y/N to Sunday dinner at his mom’s place; they’d move in together, and Y/N could decorate just how she wanted, and he’d sweat over rearranging the furniture and complain about trips to fuckin’ Ikea and all the other stuff that normal boyfriends got to do. In this moment, this inhale, he tasted it all, the life they could have. A dream they could build, together. 

And all he had to do was come clean. About all of it. 

In the space of an exhale, he faced it. He wanted this. It was on the tip of his tongue. 

And then the next breath. 

“Just club stuff,” he shrugged, feeling the weight of the lie dropping on her. “There’s…been a little drama between the members lately. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” 

With another kiss to her forehead, he turned away and opened the fridge. 

“I’ll put that spaghetti squash in this afternoon if you want me to,” he offered. “That way it’ll be ready when you get off work. Sound good?” 

Y/N nodded mutely, pressing her lips into a smile. She had to admit it was nice having a boyfriend who was mildly competent in the kitchen. 

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get in to the clinic,” she sighed, checking her watch. “Shit! I’ll be late.” Swinging her bag and lab coat over her shoulder, she gave him a final peck on the lips before bolting to the door. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“Too cold!” was her reply - and then she was out the door. 

Bucky stared at the closed door for a moment, one hip leaned against the counter, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He just needed some time. Just a little more time to sort all this out. And then he’d tell her - the whole truth. Everything. And after, they could have a life together, something real, something safe, a home. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve again. 

Call me. Now.

Even as he rolled his eyes at Steve’s flare for the dramatic, a little tremor seized Bucky’s heart. Dread hovered in the back of his mind as he swiped his thumb and dialed Steve’s number. 

This could only go badly.

  **********                                                                                                  

One breath.

Inhale to exhale. That was how long it took for him to lie to her. 

Cold fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, it was all she could think about. It scared the hell out of her, whatever it was he tried to hide in that breath, whatever he decided to keep from her. He’d never done that before…or had he? Did she know? Would she know? Would she be able to tell? 

Calm down, Y/N. You’re overreacting. She lectured herself, cranking the heat in her car to a higher setting. A top 40 song, thumping beat and repeated lyrics, hummed faintly on the radio; she was running late enough that the morning talk show had already ended, moving on to the daily shuffle of hits and local business commercials. It all went unheard in the worried circle of her thoughts. 

What could he have to hide? Unbidden, her mind flooded with horrible possibilities, every possible answer to that question, and each more horrible than the last. Was he cheating? Another woman was responsible for the constant barrage of text messages pinging his phone? Bucky was handsome, not to mention clever, flirtatious, romantic; she had no doubt he could get any woman he wanted. But his attention and affection for her hadn’t waned - just this weekend he’d planned a beautiful dinner for the two of them, followed by a homemade cheesecake he had slaved over for dessert, and then well…he was certainly still eager in the bedroom. The warning signs just weren’t there. 

So what else? He’d never been secretive about the club before. Avengers business was Avengers business, but he’d never lied to her about it. It turned her stomach sour, and she regretted having those pancakes this morning, the cloying smell of syrup still on her hands making her want to pull over and vomit on the side of the road. 

She knew she was working herself up, letting her mind run amuck, but she couldn’t stop herself. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot of the clinic, she’d half made up her mind to turn right around, go home, and confront him. The image of herself, half-crazy with ideas of secret affairs or violence or drugs, marching into the house and accusing him of lying - it stopped her short.

God, why am I losing my shit over this? Y/N dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, the car idling in the lot, warm and safe from the harsh winter morning. She’d dealt with shitty men before, she’d survived bad boyfriends. It was impossible to make it very long as a woman without that experience. And yet, somehow, the memory of that paled in comparison to the devastating knowledge that Bucky was lying to her. 

You love him. Oh god, she did, she loved him - she was in love with him. 

She hurried out of the car and into the clinic, preferring to bury herself in wellness checks and vaccines and the flu than to keep thinking on it. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the reception desk, Charlotte stopped her before she could get to her office.

“Oh! You’re needed at the county hospital today.” She handed Y/N the note, written on robin’s egg blue stationary. 

“I’m sorry? Why?” Y/N squinted at the note, a handwritten scribble. Charlotte shrugged. 

“No real explanation - but the chief surgeon said that they could use an extra set of hands with all the flu cases they’ve got coming in.” She took a sip from her travel mug. “I’ve heard they’re a little overwhelmed down there, since they’re the closest treatment for a lot of people in the county.” 

Y/N sighed, looking back out to her car. She hadn’t planned to drive the extra mileage out to the hospital today; not to mention it would probably make her late coming back for dinner tonight. Digging in her purse, she grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text to Bucky, explaining the change. 

“Alright then,” she huffed, placing her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave to Charlotte and the other nurses, she was back out the door and heading to her car. This time around, she turned the radio up loud, singing along and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and not thinking about this morning, or her own life, or anything at all. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the hospital, she was assigned to make rounds for one of their physicians who had called in sick. Simple enough. The elevator ride up was quiet, new nurses and doctors all quiet and polite, but holding down their conversations in the presence of a stranger. 

She started on the third floor recovery ward, making her way down the hall door by door. Bedside manner was always one of her strengths; she could charm most patients with just a few words, breezing through her examinations and questions with ease. Chalk it up to customer service experience, but even the difficult patients usually treated her with gruff politeness, the insistence of her friendly manners forcing them to match with their own. Room by room, she checked charts and asked about pain levels and wrote prescriptions, the morning passing by in hours of sterile white tile and the smell of hand sanitizer. 

Turning a corner onto the next ward, she was just looking up from her clipboard when she caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red ducking into a doorway. Y/N hurried her steps, her cadence almost a jog as she tried to catch-

“Natasha?” She knew that hair, the back of her jacket, the set of her shoulders. 

Nat was standing in the door of the hospital room, propping it open with one arm, head turned over her shoulder to stare at Y/N with weary eyes. Her face was pale, scrubbed clean of makeup, the bright baby hairs around her face twisting in tight little curls. At the sight of Y/N, she quirked the corner of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile, but it only managed to make her look more strained and exhausted. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N went on when she didn’t get an answer. Her eyes cut past Natasha to the dim fluorescence of the room behind her. “Is everything okay?” 

Nat stared for another moment, her lips pressed tight together, jaw working back and forth. The hand she held on the door was curled in a small, tight fist, the peaks of her pale knuckles standing out against the long sleeve of her hoodie. Then, still silent, she stepped aside, gesturing for her friend to enter. 

“Come in,” she said hoarsely. “We need to talk.” 

[theartisticintrovert]

Case #0130403

Statement of Jason Gale, regarding the strange occurrences surrounding Daniel Fenton. Original statement given 3rd April, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

--

I wanna start this by saying that I barely knew Danny. I don’t know how he became what he is, but what I did see, well...I still have nightmares. I guess I should start at the beginning, though I’m not really sure how much of a beginning there is.

I never had the greatest home life. Pretty textbook, really. Shitty dad, dead mom, bad friends, the works. I ran away when I was fourteen, fell in with a real bad crowd. I’d been in and out of juvie every few months, but I didn’t meet Danny until I was sixteen. I’d been picked up at the scene of a robbery, don’t even remember where, and sent off to Amity Youth Detention Center. I’d been there for about three months when my old cellmate got released, so I was on my own for a bit. I didn’t mind, D Block wasn’t exactly the worst it could get.

Danny transferred in a few weeks later. At first, I didn’t think much of him. He was tiny, barely 5’4 I think, and he looked like a twig. His eyes, though.....his eyes were what scared me the most. They looked dead, like someone sucked all the life outta him, just leaving his corpse walkin’ around like some kinda zombie. They sent him in and he just.....stared, watching Officer McCarthy leave like he was already planning the poor bastard’s funeral. I freaked out a little. I’m not ashamed, kid was fuckin’ scary.

That’s when it happened. It’s like something snapped in him. The room got all cold, and the lights started flickering. He shoved me up against the wall and I dunno how but it felt like this.....predator staring at me. I don’t even remember what he said, but I just agreed to whatever it was so he’d stop staring at me. I swear his eyes were green, but it had to just be a trick of the light. It had to be, because I remember they were blue. I remember, because I remember thinking how weird it was for an Asian kid to have blue eyes.

Still, when he got mad......I swear to you, they were green.

Sorry, I got a little.....off track there. There were a few more weird things about him, but just little things. He never ate, and I know it wasn’t that he was eating when I couldn’t see him. AYDC has scheduled meal times for every block, and every single time it was D’s turn he just....stayed in bed. There’s no getting in or out once the door’s locked, so he wasn’t sneaking around. And yet, even after about a week and a half of this, he was fine. No complaining, no hunger pains, not even a little bit of nausea. Like.....like he didn’t need food. I asked him about it, but the answer, well.....I think he was a bit nutty. Everyone was in there. 

I managed to get him into the cafeteria one time, though not for very long. I think Emily, that is, Emily Grey, scared him off, but I can’t be sure. I do remember though, that the others felt it too. Danny was.....he had this like, aura of despair. Like you get near him, and nothing you do will make you feel again. Owen Coulter said he “felt like depression, if depression was a person”. I only remember that because it was so strange to hear a twelve year old say that with the knowledge that only an old man has, but there it was anyway.

He got transferred a few days later, or....I assume he was transferred, anyway. I heard he’d finally gotten his trial, but he didn’t come back after. I can only assume they sent him to F, because I didn’t see him for several months after that. I’d honestly just been starting to feel okay again when he came back to D. I only really noticed him because we were in the yard at the same time, and something in me wanted to turn around and bolt the second I spotted him. Still, he seemed.....different. Less angry, less......snappish. I noticed a few new scars on him too, which was strange just because the inmates at AYDC aren’t allowed any electronics, so how the hell did he get electrocution scars?

The next big one happened after he was released. He’d been out for about a week when I got a visitor. This was news to me, since my old man doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me and my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in a juvie visitation room. Only visitors I really got were my lawyer and sometimes my stepmom, but she didn’t come often. She doesn’t like me much, but that’s beside the point. When I saw Danny on the other side of that glass window, I about turned around right there. Unfortunately for me, the door was already shut and I couldn’t get anyone to open it, not from my side. Fuckin’ bastards probably stepped out for a donut break, who knows. The point is, Danny was....different. 

His scars curled up both of his cheeks now, pale and prominent against his sickly brown skin. His eyes seemed a little sharper now, a little more aware. I wasn’t entirely sure this was a good thing. We argued a bit, but....I think he was genuinely trying to help. I didn’t trust him a damn bit, but at least he was trying.

I’ve been dancing around the point long enough, I think. Sure, the kid’s weird, you’re thinking. He’s got scars, so what? He makes you miserable just being around him? Probably some emo bastard. The whole predator gaze? Well, he was in for assault. No, the thing I’ve been avoiding, the thing that I’ll never forget....it was his ghost.

Way back when we were still bunkmates, he’d told me about how he died. How his parents were some kind of Ghostbuster freaks, and they built a portal to Hell in his basement. Okay, well, he called it the “Ghost Zone”, but who gives a fuck, honestly. Then he told me he was stupid enough to go in the damn thing, and got zapped six ways to Sunday. He said he’d died in that portal, and I didn’t want to believe him. I couldn’t. When you die, you die. That’s it. Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. The idea that he could be some sort of.....half-alive, half-dead.....thing, well....I didn’t want to think about it. I’d already come to terms with my own mortality, and I did not need it shoved back in my face by some freaky-ass kid.

But then he showed me. God, it was horrible. I was expecting him to fail, just the delusions of his poor fucked up scrambled brains, some side effect of getting zapped to hell and back. Maybe, if it were true, to just go a bit translucent. I didn’t expect the monster.

It came in a flash of light. Two sparking rings of bright white electricity, so bright they burned to look at. When I managed to blink the spots outta my eyes, I almost thought I’d hit my head. Where Danny had been standing, a floating, glowing thing stood in his place. It was pale, washed out, with only its acid green eyes and tongue giving it any color at all. It wore a jumpsuit of some sort, with thick gloves and attached boots, like the biohazard guys on TV. It still had the scars though, even if they were glowing an ominous neon green. It hissed at me, like it was trying to speak, but I didn’t understand a word it said. When it turned that empty, hungry gaze on me, I panicked. I shoved it back against the wall, where it connected with a sickening splat. Blood oozed on the concrete, or at least, I assume it was blood. It was red and green and sizzled, like it was eating away at the stone. I think there’s still marks there, where the acid ate away at the concrete.

The thing wanted to eat me, I’m sure of it, but it seemed too dizzy. I think shoving it only made it more angry, but at that point the light came back. I looked away just in time, and when the light died down Danny was back. Still scrawny, still fleshy, still alive. Only now, I wasn’t so sure.

I haven’t seen another ghost since, and I think it’s for the best. I’ve done my research, I’ve heard about these....mediums. I know I can’t see them, not on this plane. Honestly, I’m better off for it I think. I don’t want to see them, or hear them, or even think about them again. 

I didn’t give you this statement to have you do something about it. I don’t even know if you have the ability to do anything, since all this happened in Illinois. I didn’t come all the way to some dingy spooky library in fucking London for a solution. I’ve made my peace. I just.....I needed to tell somebody. Not the cops, I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them. And not anyone else either, they’d think I’m a schizo freak, like that Weston kid. No, I’m perfectly happy laying low, and never thinking about Daniel Fenton again. And now that I have this off my chest and stored away in your freaky little library, I finally can.

--

Statement ends. Although he said he didn’t want us to do anything about his experience, we did reach out to Mr. Gale. He replied in no uncertain terms for us to leave him alone, and that he absolutely would not be giving a follow-up statement. I....can’t say I blame him, but really, half-dead? A teenager that could turn into some paranormal entity? It all seems rather....far fetched. 

Still, we did do some basic follow-up research on what we could. The Fentons do exist, as well as the town of Amity Park. I’d like to take everything about said town with a hefty dose of salt however, as it claims to be “The Most Haunted Place in America”. Tourist trap nonsense, if you ask me. Daniel Fenton was arrested in late summer of 2010, though those records are obviously sealed. Emily Grey declined to give a follow-up statement as well, and Owen Coulter seems to have unfortunately passed away in the intervening years. 

Still, I can’t help but think that Mr. Gale’s statement is....unusually detailed, especially as it concerns a boy he himself claims to have no close connection to.

End recording.

[hazbincalifornia]

Something Very Special

Chapter 4:  A few moments of reflection.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Warnings: Mpreg

Ao3 link

Blitzo prodded at his stomach in front of the full-length mirror in his room while wearing only his pants. It was a bit more obvious without a shirt and coat on that there was a slight bump, especially considering his slender physique. It had been a few hours since the visit with Stolas, and he could still almost feel the owl-demon’s hand against him. 

Before leaving, Stolas had insisting on getting to feel his stomach again- it wasn’t sexual, as promised, but it made Blitzo shiver, the gentle way Stolas moved his fingertips over the skin and how he cooed with his eyes glowing brighter than usual.

“They’ll be perfect. I’m so glad you decided to keep them. This will all be worth it, Blitzy- you’re doing something very special.” 

He was almost a month through, and there hadn’t been any real side effects yet. None that he’d actively noticed, anyway- he’d been a bit queasy while drinking coffee a time or two and had puked in the bushes on the way home from the bar after work once, but that could have just been the cheap, shitty booze and the fact that he’d been more ‘spinning’ than ‘dancing’ by the end of the night. Loona had pretty much dragged him back to the apartment when he almost passed out anyway- not his fault that the snacks weren’t good enough to waste money on so he ended up drunk way too fast. Ugh, he'd probably have to drop drinking, wouldn't he? Greeeeeeat.

In the other room, Loona was listening to some punk band he couldn’t recognize. He liked the fast, loud sound it had to it though, all the lyrics fuzzed through the walls so it was just the beat. Blitzo drummed his fingers over the bump.

“You’d better not be any trouble, you hear me? The most I want to deal with is people calling me fat or some shit. Maybe I can get something tailored? Might have to ask Stolas about that. I’d hate to be just popping out of everything in my wardrobe, I’ve got too good of a sense of fashion for that and I can’t deny the world me at my best.” He’d need to make a list of things he wanted before but hadn’t been willing to push his luck with Stolas on.

Actually, now that he thought of it... he’d been kind of pushing his luck the last few days, hadn’t he? He’d even insulted Stolas to his face earlier, but the owl had barely even flinched, too swept up in the fact that Blitzo was agreeing to keep the baby. If it meant he could loosen his lips a little outside of the bedroom, Blitzo’d count this as a double success for a while. Maybe that was another side effect- hormones? The inhibitions to not tiptoe around the dude who knocked you up? The one who knocked you up being more lenient himself? Who fuckin’ knew! He’d never exactly asked Mom about what it was like having him and his sisters, he figured nobody who wasn’t about to have kids did shit like that who wasn’t a pervert.

Blitzo’d been playing ball with Stolas for... geez, at least six months at this point? He’d never written it down or anything. It always felt like pins and needles until he either said some dumbshit thing Stolas didn’t find funny that he had to fumble over a half-assed apology for, or Stolas just started getting raunchy right in the middle of the calls he insisted on at least twice a week. At least when the guy got started, most of the time he just burnt himself out with an occasional ‘mhm’ or ‘oh yeah’ from Blitzo, who was getting pretty good at tuning it out. Horny bastard was probably jacking off during half of them too, from the squelches and moaning noises. Weirdo. It was like he didn’t know about porn or something.

But! But, he’d offered to leave actual sex off the table for five full months with the baby thing. It really said how much he wanted this, and it also said that Blitzo was probably going to be able to get away with a lot more than usual if Stolas was willing to forgo their ‘fornication’ (seriously, who used words like that, just say ‘fucking’ like a normal person) for the entire time. Maybe Blitzo could actually get lucky with someone else for once, if he wanted to.

“What do you think about all of this? I figure the weight will be worth not having to worry about him just scooping me up and running off during work hours. And that’s on top of actually having some real good stuff out of our little relationship besides him just not taking the book back.” He paused. “And the sex when we get around to it. That’s usually pretty good.” He turned to Spirit Jr, who was propped up on the bed. The stuffed horse just stared up at him, but he felt fairly sure that the emotion given off was approval. “Very helpful. Thank you.”

“Yo, Blitzo.” Loona rapped her knuckles on the doorframe before pushing the door open, and grimaced before slamming it shut again. “Geez, get dressed first!”

“I’m in my room, just ask first!” He tugged a hoodie on, the oversized fabric completely smothering his frame when he looked down before opening the door again, meeting her eyes. “What is it, honey?”

“Just making sure you were still keeping it.” She held up her phone. “Millie asked and the notifications are getting annoying.”

Blitzo squinted at the screen, and could see that Millie had sent a picture of Moxxie pacing with his fingers laced behind his back.

“Geez, he’s acting like it’s his baby or something. Priss. Yeah, I’m keeping it.” He rubbed an idle circle over the pocket of the hoodie, fingers criss-crossing a star on the inside of it. Of course, it didn’t have much power without the book in the other room.

“I know, just making sure you weren’t changing your mind and trying to cut it out in there.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m only asking because this was the fourth text and she was worried you’d done something stupid. Did you check your phone?”

“Yeah, of course!” He blinked before heading back to where he’d hung up his coat, digging into the pocket before pulling out his phone that was currently flashing with several missed texts. Four long rambling ones from Moxxie, three slightly shorter ones from Millie, and then one each from Loona and Stolas. (Stolas’s was just a series of emojis that Blitzo didn’t really feel up to interpreting, including for some reason several leaves.)

He shot back a text to the IMP groupchat.

Im fine u gyus, dont worry aboutme. Its all good nd im keepingit.

He flopped down on the bed to start scrolling through Voxtagram, and Loona firmly snapped the door shut at the same moment the bed creaked from his weight. 

“G’night, Blitzo.”

“G’night, Loonie! See you tomorrow bright and early!” he called back at the sound of her plodding down the hall. “We’ve got another job lined up!”

If he was lucky, maybe nothing else would even have to change.

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY LiveThoughts: V8E7

Since I finally have time for it today, lets make sure Im all caught up for the hiatus. 

Before we get fully started, an idea; Its not a war crime if they’re Grimm. Then its just self defense. So break out the napalm, the cluster bombs, the chemical weapons, the fun stuff. Make em regret it, yeah?

And we start off...on a farm. Looks like my moms old farm in South Dakota. Even on Remnant, hay is best used in bales.

Waiiiit. Thats the place the Whale set down isnt it. I see a Sayber running. Ah, and the Atlas military! Surely, the vanguard of a massive force to hold the line! Also Im glad to see a close up of the helmet for once, I want to make my own. Also, the gloves, and the rifle itself. Not sure why it doesnt have a stock, seems kind of silly...

And airships too, so they got some fire support...whats that wall behind them though?

Also it TOOK US 8 FUCKING SEASONS to get a close up of these FUCKING Weapons. 8. FUCKING. SEASONS. Okay maybe more like 5 cause they didnt first appear till 3 or so but come on. Im so picking this shit apart later. 

Pfft, bros got some nerves going on. Come on man, its just some Grimm, you’ll be FINE.

Atlas field harvesters resemble Halo’s JOTUN Farming equipment. As wel as our own. No surprise there.

Alright, bunch of Saybers, not seeing much of a threat here.

Hey, Paladins! Damn, they...look way different than I remember them to be. 

I wont lie, I dont like the Paladin design. Way to much visual noise, I cant tell where anything IS. 

Also that is the most 2D grass I have sever seen in my fucking life. What the hell are they growing here...

Huh, the whale has two sets of teeth. Wait, its just there? And its wpewing out Grimm. So...why isnt the air force firing on it? 

Yeah its not moving, its just raising its head and slamming down and vomiting out more Grimm. Im not sure what the issue is here, just...seal the mouth. 

Oh, huh. Apathys. Let me guess, RTs gonna try and tell us depression is going to kill most of Atlas. Oh for fuck sake. IM NOT IMPRESSED RT. IM REALLY NOT. IM MORE FUCKING ANNOYED THAN ANYTHING

Okay so...I see what this is. Its farm land outside of atlas proper and there’s an additional wall behind them, plus the power lines I guess? Seems like a viable place to make a stand. 

...thats it. Please tell me this is just a single detachment of the Atlas military because there is less firepower here than a NATIONAL GUARD UNIT ASSIGNED TO ONE CITY

Im fairly certain there are more people assigned to ONE UNIT attached to JBLM then I amm seeing here. 

Not to mention this is an OPEN FIELD the Grimm have to run through. This is a literall fucking TURKEY SHOOT. Running across an open field anywhere is a ticket to DYING.

Just ask the poor fucks on D-day.

Also uh...why is everyone in line formation? What is this, fuckin’ 18009s combat Napoleon style?

And did the distance suddenly change, I feel like the whale suddenly got a hell of a lot closer.

Just...I dont get this. This makes no sense. Did Ironwood learn how to deploy forces from a fairy tale book? This is legitimately some fuckin Lord of the Rings shit here.

RIP that one specific trooper hit by that Behemoth though. Dont worry friend, the thing walked next to a Paladin. Its getting its eye blasted out

And cut back to Ironwood. Doing...fuck if I know what.

Staring angrily it seems.

“Dammit, my tactical deployment by line formation and parade ground tactics isnt holding back the Grimm, curses!”

Well MAYBE IF YOUD THOUGHT TO INVEST IN SOME FUCKING AIR SUPPORT...Seriously.

I know people have told me why this is. I understand myself why this is. But it really just...does...not...jibe with me. At all. 

Okay so more details; first, apparently Atlas has a subway. Makes sense, its a big island. Inter-system transits probably a given. Second; Was that Mantis Squad Omega? Some kind of unit maybe...interesting.

 Also I love how this guy just questions Ironwood. Like, bro, if the General says do it, do it.

Hold the fuck up, why is everyone outside? It looks like fuckin’ Cali during our lockdowns...what ever happened to martial law huh?

Also “underground subway stations”. Yes, thats...kind of what a subway IS. I guess maybe they have overhead ones like New York does. Mass transit be weird like that.

I mean HELL the signs on it are almost identical to the ones in NYC too! Even with the colored circles and train cnumbers. 

According to the sign here they’re at Pickens Square Station. 

Oh boy. Ironwood just fed these poor bastards into a meat grinder. Anyone here ever played the Metro game series, or read the books?

Remember the Dark Ones? The Nosallias? Yeah. Tight corridors and monsters only work out well for angry vodka fueled Russians.

Didnt see it very well but I THINK those Mantas had some kind of wing gun. Either thats new, a separate armament setting, or RT forgot what ind of weapons they gave their ships AGAIN.

Cant get the shields back up, yeah, no shit, they DETACHED ONE OF THE FUCKING PILOTS YOU IDIOTS.

Also hah, they arrested Yang, Ren and Jaune. Not surprised.

Beta squads apperently been hitting the whale. ‘Bombs, missiles, we cant make a dent, sir.” ...while Im not surprised by this, I also hear shades of the opening of Halo 2s level Metropolis. “Where’s the rest of your platoon?” “Wasted, sarge. Blew right through us. Rockets, fifty cals, didnt do nothing.”

Honestly they could have SHOWED THAT too. Them just saying it feels like a cop out to me. Take that as you will. But if you want us to see the things hard to kill, show it. 

Not that I figure Atlas’s rockets are much more than Dust in a propellent tank. Not exactly a Hellfire or TOW.

Nice to see proper military talk for...a moment anyway.

Or what I figure RT figures is proper.

Oh so now the whales moving. Okay...huh.

Jaunes commentary is the same as mine. Though I guess the size seems to shift depending.

Ohhh. Its MANTA. As in the gunships. Alright, sure that works. And this guys making a good call. If you cant hit the big one go after the smaller. Of which there seems to be a HELL of a lot. Actually holy fuck that Grimm spew is across like...ahlf the fucking island right now. Time to fuckin torch and burn people.

Ahhhhhh and they get to the proper idea.  If you cant punch it from the outside, hit it from the inside.

I knew a crew...three madmen, names of Keegan, Lahni and Mac. The Hivebusters. Something tells me a Venom bomb would do the trick...if it can rip apart Swarm creatures as big as a Snatcher or a Swarmak and reduce them to green slime, I think it’ll work on Grimm. 

Something tells me RT isnt gonna give em a bomb though. Too obvious.

NEVER MIND. “Science team is putting together a bomb.”

Also I LOVE how Winter’s pupils expand and retract in fear as she realizes what Ironwoods asking her to do.

Awww now shes getting the shakes too.

Salem directing this shit like shes some kind of orchestra leader. I mean it FITS but...I dunno.

Ah so the command deck is directly behind the whale’s glowing nose. Basically inside where the spermacetiy organ would be in a real sperm whale.

What the fuck is Emerald doing there?

Sneaking I guess. Huh. Why’s she sneaking around the whale. Also, huh. guess seeers can get fooled by Emeralds semblance.  Is HE STILL BEATING UP ON OSCAR? Jeez dude. Take a breather.

Honestly if this was TRUE I would be okay with it. Replace the Huntsman with, I dont know, a massively overequipped military for each Kingdom, let them run rampant...stomp the Grimm out or push them back to nonexistence...everyone lives happily ever after

Lets be real here, the idea of the academies? Really really fucking dumb. Its cute. Fairy tale like.

But if theres one thing this show has taught me its that fairy tales SUCK. Reality...tends to be worse.

Ah theres one of those torture hooks they mentioned a few episodes back. Nice of the whale to have a specific interrigation room.

And at last we get some information on how Salem works. Alright so...what happens if you seperate the parts then? Sink one in the ocean, launch one into space.

Sounds like Oz/Oscars telling the fans what we’ve been saying forever, Companion Book be damned; Salem wants to die.

These mind games bore me. Its cute, but I dont like it cause I cant follow that shit. Give me a straight up fight any day, fuck this sublty backroom fuckery

No lies from them both here honestly.

Medical supplies in Atlas seem almost the same as here on earth interestngly. Also, soup. Or...coffee, tea?

Blake with the obvious here. But I mean thats not really saying much cause...well. Not hard to outfight the Atlas military it seems like.  (Long suffering sigh)

Im gonna make a seperate post about my frustrations with that and leave it there. But dont expect me to stop fully complaining about it because everyones gotta have something to bitch about with this show, and I’ll be DAMNED if I start joining the BB whiners.

Good question, Ruby. Might be that YOUR NOT LIVING IN A FAIRY TALE

I’d like to see these people dying in Mantle. I refuse to believe that there isnt SOMEONE in the nation that once brought Remnant to its heel that wont stand and fight. Unless Im wrong about that too...

May backstory? May backstory. Yeah.  Not amazingly complicated but it works. Cant tell if shes Henry though...or was. 

Dramatic lightning flash

Cute you think that Ruby. Theres sides. Always are.

Further proof honestly.

Hazels look of though is amusing. Cant tell if he doesnt believe Oscar, or if his tiny peabrain is runing full bore to think this through.

Coordination between farm boy and professor.

Oh. OHHHH. Plants the seed of doubt in Hazels tiny mind, he uses the last question for himself, sees the truth... Clever, Oscar. Clever.

Hazel peabrain go THUNK

Ah so Mercs going off to Vacuo. Guess that means everyone else is going there next too. Eat that, random Discord person, I called it.

Course, CFVYs there so...maybe we get to see Yats beat up on him.

Oh hi Tyrian. Do you just...randomly roam the halls of the whale waiting to DRAMATICALLY REVEAL YOURSELF and give violent expositon? Im very much okay with that.

Also I love how he just...accepts this. Totally fucking bonkers, totally down with it. 

Oh shit, Tyrian and Mercury going to Vacuo? Damn thats gonna be INTERESTING. I guess Tyrian’ll fit in well enough honestly.

Flying Beringal literally out of the roof. 

I remember back when this season first started and I said those weird bone platforms looked like VTOL launch bays. Guess what? They are.

Merc and Em emotion blah blah DONT CAAARRREEE

Jaune thinking tactically for ONCE IN HIS FUCKING LIFE. An I mean military tactical of course.

Also I like how the Aces say they dont let emotions cloud their shit WHEN THEYVE BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME.

This ENTIRE PLANET is emotionally run. Thats why the Grimm are such an issue! Makes small note to make Remnant Adeptus Mechanicus cult

Seriously though...

I wont lie though, Hare isnt wrong. Wonder what happened to that Tortuga guy. Tyrian, is my guess. Love how Ren interrupts the moment they almost mention Clovers name.

Expendable, yes. Replacable, no. You should have a talk with squadron leader Grey from Star Wars Squadrons Ren

ANNNNDDD SEMBLANCE EVOLUTION. Or the edibles just kicked in.

This is cool and all but its really fucking dumb and hamfisted. Explain all you want. Mention emotions all you want.

The Aces are fucking huntsmen. HUNTSMEN. FUCKING. SUCK. They always have. Its a dumb idea. Yes, lets stop the hordes of monsters invading this world BY SENDING IN SINGLE OPERATIVES WITH FUCKING MELEE WEAPONS

I’ll make this clear to you, Ren, right here and now. If you faced a REAL elites, you wouldnt have stood a chance. Nor would RWBY. Their bodies would have been three-shot from 20 meters out with a breach and clear and stacked against the wall like cords of wood, one final shot to the dome to make dead sure they were down. None of this stupid flipping and acrobatic crap, none of this clashing weapons and Dust and semblances...no. 

You’d be dead before you knew they were there and they would move on. You’d just be another body to the pile, one more faceless corpse to add to their kill count. A meatgrinder in human form. 

Professionals. Dont. Lose. AND THE ACES ARE NOT PROFESSIONALS!

Because thats not what RWBYs about, never has been.  And that is what annoys me slightly. That and the fact I cant distangle what I know of other universes and our own from RWBY’s. Its hard to hold a universe on its own when everything they make points towards it being like ours, but they change it when they see fit. 

I feel like thats bad writing.

Hehehe. Winter touched Elms boob.

Glad to know that Winters got her priorities right. Course, that bomb probably aint gonna do shit cause its Dust based.

...again, hoping its a chemical weapon...

Wait, the Atlas forces from earlier are STILL FIGHTING? Damn, these Grimm must suck if they couldnt wipe them out in that little time...

Also I cant tell if its getting dark cause of the storm or if its the dawn of the next day.  Or did...they shift time around? I lost track. I SWORE the sun was setting the last time we saw everything.

Also return of the shitty 3D grass...

Marrows gonna defect.

Awww poor Winters got emotions. HEY MAYBE DONT SEND A MENSTRATING WOMAN OUT ON A FIELD OP, ATLAS!

So according to May there’s still front lines. Cool. 

AYYY ITS KLIEN! HES BACK

Oh, I guess hes a doctor too. Oh he MAD.

Ayyy Whitleys being USEFUL for fucking once in his shitty life.

Shes gonna hug him isnt she.

CALLED IT. For fuck sake...whatever. Cute. But whatever.

Oh annnnddd now Grimmquake?

No. It stopped...Bolide?

No. PENNY.

Annnnddd shes leaking coolant. And sparking. And dead.

RIP Penny.

The concept art of the beached whale looks so fucking silly. Seriously, just...detach the whole section there. Drop the fucking thing. 

Oh well.

And thats it for almost two months! Be prepared for me to BULLSHIT MY WAY THROUGH ALL OF IT and continue on with my military fanwank because THATS HOW IM SURVIVING 2020!

[sleepfight]

Bart’s Tattoo

I’m still on my first rough-draft so this is still a little messy and bare bones but since I’m posting more Bart art, I thought I’d share a little excerpt from my fic where Bart tells Uri the story behind his desert rose tattoo.

Uri belongs to @iigoeyei! TW for referenced child abuse, internalized ableism, mental health issues, and alcohol consumption  

Uri knocks back the last of his beer and crushes the can in his fist before chucking it blindly into the flatbed of his truck behind them.  

“What about this one?” He asks and hooks a finger into the collar of Bart’s hoodie so that he can tug it down, exposing the soft, pink petals of the tattoo on his neck. “It looks older than your other ones.”

Bart looks down at his feet as they swing below him, restless hands fidgeting with his own beer. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to think of how he can condense the story of this tattoo in a way that won’t leave them parked in the oppressive humidity all night, but he doesn’t think Uri would mind if they did. That’s why Uri is one of Bart’s favorite people; he has an abundance of patience regardless of whether Bart is going a million miles a minute or has been paralyzed by silence.

He drops one shoulder so that he can pull his shirt down further, letting Uri have a better look. The tattoo is one of his oldest but the colors are still vibrant and the shades of blended pink and yellow stand out against his otherwise chalky complexion like a rash; a flash of something beautiful somewhere it doesn’t belong. 

“It’s a desert rose,” Bart murmurs while Uri tilts his head closer and scrutinizes the small flower. “When I was a kid, we had a neighbor who was really into nature-mysticism and shit. Lynn-Marie Porter. She used to watch me and my sister sometimes after church and she’d make us help her in the pastor’s garden, picking weeds and stuff like that. She made us memorize different types of plants and flowers and what they meant.”

“You mean like if they were poisonous?” Uri asks.

“No, like what they represented. Spiritually, or whatever.” 

“And there were desert roses in the garden, I take it?”

“No.” Bart scowls and stares at the ground. He doesn’t like telling this story, it makes him feel stupid. 

“I was always--I was a different kid,” he says, voice low enough that it can’t carry with the sound of croaking frogs or rustling catkins in the pond, content to keep this between Uri and himself. “My parents took me to all kinds of doctors but they gave up after a few years and everybody in town knew it. Most of ‘em just accepted I wasn’t right and let me be but just as many people tried to stick their noses in with ‘advice’ on how to fix me.”

Bart licks at his dry lips. “Miss Porter was one of those people. She kept telling my mom to hang a dreamcatcher above my bed or that she should put echinacea under my tongue before I went to sleep. One time, I got in trouble for yelling during Sunday service which is something dad would normally slap me around for but Miss Porter took me outside before he could. Sat me down in the garden and told me I had to start behaving properly if I wanted to stay welcome in God’s house.”

Uri’s brow wrinkles in distaste and he blows a long, exasperated sigh out of his nose. “Fuckin’ hell, church sucks,” he grumbles, reaching into the cooler for a fresh beer.

"You're named after an archangel, dude, I don't think you're allowed to say that," Bart smiles crookedly.

There was a time he enjoyed going to church, back when he still thought belief would be the refuge he needed from his own mind. Back when he was little and his ‘eccentricities’ were accepted as normal growing pains and the pastor would still reassure Bart and his parents that God’s love was eternal and unconditional; before the congregation started to view him as a troublesome distraction to be hidden in the back row where the good word barely reached his ears. 

“She told me I needed to find a desert rose and carry it with me wherever I went,” Bart continues after a long moment wherein Uri slurps loudly at his Budweiser and Bart picks the skin around his fingernails. 

“Said that a desert rose would help my brain be quiet and would help me--” he grimaces, almost a flinch. It all sounds so absurd now that he is an adult. “That it would make me understand my emotions and give me serenity.”

“So you got one tattooed?”

“Not at first,” Bart shakes his head. “I didn’t know what a desert rose looked like but I spent all summer looking for one. Got in more trouble rooting around in people’s lawns than I ever did fucking around in church.” 

Bart huffs a laugh, eyes unfocused on the horizon and setting sun. “I hunted everywhere. Broke into hardware stores, backyards… even took a bus all the way to Billings once because I heard MSU had a greenhouse but they wouldn’t let me in.” 

His hands flex around the can he holds and Bart scowls, familiar anger bubbling in his throat along with the equally intimate feelings of shame and inadequacy that are always resurrected when he thinks about his old life. 

“I thought if I could just find one, then all my problems would be solved and I’d get all my old friends back. That I would be normal for as long as I could hang onto it. I was completely obsessed.”

Uri smirks and nudges Bart’s ribs with his elbow, a good-natured jostle that pulls Bart back to the present. “Some things never change, huh?” He teases. “Did you ever manage to get your hands on one?”

“Naw,” Bart sighs. “When I was sixteen, I found a picture in a field guide and convinced my sister’s boyfriend to tattoo it for me. I figured that would be the next best thing if I couldn’t get a real one.”

Now comes the part of this story Bart hates telling and he yanks the zipper of his hoodie back up his neck despite the sweltering temperature. “I found out a few years later that she wasn’t even talking about flowers. A desert rose is a type of fuckin’ rock that hippies use to meditate with or some shit. I got a stupid flower tattoo for nothing.”

Uri leans back on his palms and considers Bart from beneath his eyelashes, brown eyes glowing amber in the dying light. His expression, so open and non-judgmental, makes Bart’s stomach churn. 

“Y’know,” Uri drawls. “I don’t know much about spirituality or however you’d define this kind of thing but I’m pretty sure it’s not the object that counts so much as your belief and conviction in what it does.” He claps a wide palm in the center of Bart’s back. “You were just a kid, misinterpreting the message is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, well.” Bart drains his lukewarm beer in a few quick gulps and throws the can as far away from himself as he can manage, watching it sail into the approaching shadow of the treeline. “Belief obviously wasn’t enough because I’m still--” he points at his own ear and mimes a spiral with his finger, the universal sign for cuckoo-crazy. 

Uri’s face falls. “Bart,” he prods gently.

Bart shakes his head and pulls his hood up over his hair, burying himself beneath his clothes again before hopping off the hood and crossing to the passenger-side door. 

“I have shit to do tonight,” he grumbles and folds his exhausted body into the cab before Uri can stop him. “Take me home.”

[hermannsthumb]

Can you do winter prompt 13 obvious setups?

13. my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

from winter writing prompts here

GOD i was so FUCKIN obsessed with this prompt when u sent it in, thank u so much. consider this the remix fic of 45. your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now

--------------------------------------------------------

“I swear,” Newt says, “I didn’t know.”

Hermann--suitcase at his side in an iron grip, snow still melting off the shoulders of his parka, splotchy red spreading across his cheeks--scowls at Newt like Newt’s just dug up his mother’s grave or something equally unforgivable. Newt shrinks away instinctively. “You cannot be serious,” Hermann says. “You must have known.”

The situation in question is this: intimately aware of Hermann’s famously bad relationship with a good chunk of his family, and how it’s likely to have only gotten worse after the whole Breach collapse Hermann-was-right-and-your-wall-was-stupid-and-wrong thing, Newt decided to take one for the proverbial team and just invite Hermann ‘round to his place for low key holiday celebrations this year. The alternative was ditching Hermann in the mostly deserted Hong Kong Shatterdome and listen to his dad guilt him about it for two weeks. Not that Newt would need any help feeling guilty; he knew for a fact that if he did ditch Hermann, Hermann would just be up all hours of the night in LOCCENT monitoring the late location of the Breach and missing Newt.

Newt wasn’t being sentimental, either. Hermann really would miss him like Newt was a limb that’d been lobbed off. Lingering side effects of their drift (even all these months later) has made it difficult for them to be even a few miles away from each other, let alone a fucking ocean. Luckily reluctant co-dependency isn’t new for them.

So Hermann agreed. Newt’s dad was just thrilled. He seemed to take it as confirmation of his decade-long suspicions that Newt and Hermann desperately want to be more than lab partners but are too chicken to make a move (as he explained eloquently over the phone to Newt, while Newt spluttered and protested) and ran with it, to Newt’s horror. Especially to his horror now.

His dad’s only done up one bed--one full-sized, dinosaur-patterned bed--for Newt and Hermann to share.

“Look,” Newt says, even though he knows what he’s about to say is a blatant lie, “it’s gotta be a mistake. We’ve got a sorta-guest room down the hall, I bet my dad meant for you to go there.”

“I certainly hope so,” Hermann sniffs.

Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase from him and books it down the hallway, and Hermann clacks angrily behind him. The sorta-guest room is classified as such because of the lumpy cot they kept in there for when Newt’s uncle would visit, though the bulk of it contained mostly junk, overstuffed bookshelves, and a desk Newt used to grow weird plants on in a fish tank. The tank (Newt discovers when he pushes the door open) is still there. The cot is not.

God damn it. “Dad,” he calls, while Hermann continues to seethe. “Hey, Dad?”

Nothing. Then, finally: “Yes?”

“Where’s the cot?”

Footsteps up the stairs. Dad pokes his head around the doorframe. “Cot?”

Newt sighs. “The cot we used to keep in here,” he says. “Hermann needs a place to sleep. Or I do, at least,” he adds, turning to Hermann, “you can take my bed--the cot’s not super comfortable.” The room never had very good ventilation, either. Hermann will just wake up shivering from the lack of heat with a stiff knee every morning, which means, thanks to drift hangover, Newt will too, and then they’ll both be miserable. At least Newt’s got a bit more meat on his bones.

“Oh, I tossed it out years ago,” Dad says. “Too old. It was falling apart.” Newt spies the beginnings of a smile beneath his beard, even as he feigns confusion. (God, he is so not getting a Father’s Day card next year). “Is there something wrong with your bedroom, Newt?”

“Uh, yeah,” Newt says. He shoves Hermann’s suitcase back at him just to fold his arms angrily. “Whatever, I’ll just sleep on the couch.” It’s a pullout. He thinks. It’ll be better than curling up on the carpet in his room or contending with Dr. Icicle Feet Blanket Hogger of the Year--stuff he only knows also thanks to the drift, okay, he and Hermann don’t make a habit of sleeping together. In both senses.

“But where will your poor uncle sleep?” Dad says. His smile grows.

Right. Illia’s already claimed the couch. Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase back. “Fine. I’ll dig out my stupid Boy Scouts sleeping bag and take the carpet. Hermann--”

“Newton,” Hermann interrupts. He looks slightly embarrassed. “Ah. That really isn’t necessary. I suppose we can manage to make your bed work.”

“Great,” Newt says.

“Great!” Dad says. He slaps Hermann so hard on the back that Hermann squeaks and sways on his feet.

Newt clears away some space in his old dresser--which is easy, since his fashion tastes haven’t evolved from when he was seventeen, and he took most of his clothing with him to the Shatterdome in the first place--and he and Hermann unpack their suitcases with relative ease. Or at least Newt unpacks their suitcases with relative ease. Claiming fatigue from their terribly long journey, Hermann lounges on Newt’s bed with his collar undone, like the picture of Victorian debauchery, and watches him. Frankly, though, Newt prefers the bossy little orders to his previous whining about their sleeping situation, so he’s happy to do it. Mostly. “You haven’t folded that sweater correctly,” Hermann says.

“It literally doesn’t matter,” Newt says. “It fits, and that’s all I care about.” He shuts the drawer to prove his point.

“It matters to me,” Hermann says. “I’ll know it’s not folded, and it’ll bother me.”

Newt grits his teeth. He opens the drawer. He folds Hermann’s sweater.

“There, was that so terribly difficult?” Hermann says.

He stretches his arms above his head, and nestles back against Newt’s stack of pillows with a soft groan that makes Newt’s witty, sarcastic retort shrivel and die on his tongue. Hermann can be awfully, uh...sensual for a guy with a bowlcut. “You really have got quite a comfortable bed,” Hermann murmurs. “I could fall asleep right now. Mm.”

Newt kicks the drawer shut again and flops down next to him. They do both fit, at least, though they’ll be bumping elbows and legs for sure. “It’s the most average bed of all time,” he says. He grins. “It just feels like it isn’t because it’s not one of those fucking cement slabs we have back at the base.”

Hermann makes a face. “I won’t be happy to get back to those.”

“Yeah,” Newt agrees. 

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. The little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars he pasted up there when he was twelve are still going strong, though the Lego spaceship he strung up with fishing twine is long-gone. Probably fell and broke into a million little pieces over a decade ago. “I’m sorry about this, by the way,” he says. “The, uh, sleeping situation. My dad...”

He trails off. Hermann crooks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“He thinks that we,” Newt says, and swallows, “I mean, like--he wants us to...” To admit they dig each other? To get hitched and have, like, a half-dozen genius physicist-biologist babies? Be happy together? It’s not as if Newt doesn’t want those things with Hermann. (Well, maybe not the genius baby thing. He can wait a while for that.) “It’s just, I’m an only child, you know, and my mom’s out of the picture, and I think he thinks that I need--”

Newt’s saved by a knock at the bedroom door. “Dinner!” Dad says.

It turns out it was only temporary salvation. The moment he and Hermann take their seats at the tiny dining table--seats which are, for some reason, crammed together at one side, when there’s a whole fourth perfectly fine one just sitting there empty--and heaping mounds of everything are piled onto Hermann’s plate (too skinny, Dad says with a sigh, and Hermann only looks mildly offended), Dad and Illia start giving them the third degree. Yes, Hermann was born in Germany; no, he hasn’t spent any significant time there since university, though he supposes he wouldn’t mind going back at some point; yes, a lot of the original jaeger coding was of his own design; yes, he and Newt have shared a lab for the entirety of their time in Hong Kong, and before that in the various Shatterdomes they were shuttled between, and-- “Er, no,” Hermann says, “no, Newton is an--ah--exemplary lab partner, what makes you say...?”

“I raised him, Hermann,” Dad says.

Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “He’s the messiest man I have met in my entire life,” he says. “You ought to see the sort of rubbish he used to leave around--kaiju intestines, blood--oh, and there was one time he left a piece of dead skin louse on the coffee maker--”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better!” Newt says around a mouthful of potatoes. “Last week you didn’t even have to ask me to clean up all that venom I spilled on your desk.” He was proud of himself for doing it as fast as he did. A minute more, and it probably would’ve eaten through to the top drawer. Hermann was less enthused.

“And it only took you half a decade,” Hermann says. “Well done, Newton. If the kaijus ever return, perhaps you’ll have learned to operate a broom by then.”

He takes a smug little sip of his wine that he quickly coughs up into a cloth napkin when Illia--apropos of nothing--says “Are you married, Hermann?”

“Ah.” Hermann coughs a few more times, and wipes at his eyes. Newt suddenly becomes very interested in his plate. “No. I am not.”

“Seeing anyone?” Dad says.

“Dad,” Newt groans, shrinking down in his chair. If he’s lucky, and thinks very hard about it, maybe the Breach will reopen right beneath him and he’ll be tossed into an alternate dimension where Otachi ate him after all and he never had to sit through this conversation.

“No,” Hermann repeats. “I--no.”

Dad and Illia share a satisfied glance. “Our little Newt was always quite a handful,” Dad says, “but--”

No helpful Breach comes to swallow him whole, so Newt resorts to his back-up plan, which is smacking Hermann’s glass of wine off the table and into his lap as Hermann shouts in surprise. “Shit,” Newt says, too-loud, “looks like we gotta get that cleaned up, Hermann--c’mon, here we go--”

He shoves Hermann’s cane into his arms, and then proceeds to shove Hermann down the hallway until they reach the bathroom. Hermann’s glower has returned with a vengeance. “You utter buffoon,” he keeps saying, while Newt (crouched on the floor) dabs at his newly-burgundy pants with a wet handtowel, “you moron, you wretched little--”

“I’m sorry, okay,” Newt half-shrieks. He throws the handtowel to the ground as he stands. His ears are still burning red-hot from the table, and his sudden close proximity to Hermann--noses barely an inch from each other, so close Newt can smell wine on his breath and count every last dark eyelash that frames his soft eyes--isn’t helping matters at all. “What else was I supposed to do? I panicked!”

“These were my best slacks,” Hermann says, “and now--”

“You have a dozen just like them,” Newt says, “two dozen. Three dozen. I just fucking folded them all!”

“Stop shouting,” Hermann says.

“Make me!” Newt shouts.

“I bloody will!” Hermann shouts back, and then he grabs Newt by his tie and kisses him. 

When they emerge from the bathroom and take their seats fifteen minutes later, Hermann with his collar suspiciously askew, Newt with his own buttoned suspiciously higher than it was going in, Dad and Illia pointedly say nothing.

Hermann pours himself a new glass of wine and clears his throat. “What, ah, what were we discussing?”

[writethehousedown]

static (Shalaska) - freyja

A/N: Hello!! This is for the prompt “storm”, and because I’m a nerd, my first thought was Storm from X-Men. God bless Halle Berry. This is not beta’d, because I didn’t want to pile more onto Frey’s plate, so please forgive any mistakes.

Basically, it’s an X-Men au, and Sharon’s got the power of the storm. Alaska? Stay posted.

⚡

Alaska tries not to use her powers.

They’re a nuisance, and they’re grotesque. Her parents could hardly stand the sight of them, and she can’t blame them for it. If she had to look at herself while she used her ‘gift’, as the professor calls it, she’d be disgusted too.

Her parents had eventually tired of having her around, despite her efforts to make herself small and less of a nuisance. Her powers are just hard to control, and sometimes they made themselves known when her parents wanted to pretend like they didn’t exist. So her mother had called the ‘special school’ while her father looked at the website, and Alaska had pouted at them from the other end of the table.

“Some representatives from the special school are going to be here in two hours to evaluate you,” her mother had said. “Go get cleaned up.”

“I know it’s a school for freaks, mom,” Alaska had said, betrayal pooling in her gut. Her mother had told them she was an ‘emergency case’, which explains their quick action. She sure there are more important cases they could be rushing to. “Stop calling it that.”

“Sorry,” her mother had said, looking guilty.

“It is special, though!” her father had said, false cheer in his voice. He’d spun his laptop around to show the header of the website, which boasted a huge stone mansion on a sprawling green lawn. “How many teenagers get to live in a mansion?”

“200,” Alaska shot back. He wasn’t the only one who’d done research. “I’ll probably have to share a room.”

Her father sighed. “Listen, Alaska, if you don’t want to go….”

Alaska looked at the alarm on her mother’s face. “No. No, I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

And so she’d gone. And now she’s here.

She’s regretted that admission since the day she was shoved into a room with three other girls, but Sharon makes her forget about it entirely. She’d met the other girl during a sleepover made up of two of the dorms, and Sharon’s purple lipstick, ripped t-shirt, and half and half black and white hair, had been a breath of fresh air.

She’s also come to appreciate Sharon a little more than as a friend, but she’s determined to keep that hidden as best as possible. She’s already going to lose Sharon’s friendship once her powers make their way out into the limelight, and she doesn’t think she’ll survive if she loses something more than that.

She’s jerked out of her thoughts by a sharp kick to the bottom of her foot, Sharon’s pale face waiting expectantly for her to react. Alaska glares.

“Thanks.”

“It was necessary,” Sharon says. “I don’t know what planet you were on, but we lost communications with it like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Maybe that was on purpose,” Alaska drawls, and Sharon kicks the bottom of her foot again.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Sharon says, ignoring Alaska’s glare. “You have to let me take you flying.” Alaska gives her a skeptical look.

“I don’t think so,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really feel like getting struck by lightning.”

“It doesn’t work like that and you know it,” Sharon argues. Alaska isn’t convinced.

“Please?” Sharon’s expression turns entreating, eyes huge, and she touches Alaska’s arm gently. A static shock snaps against Alaska’s skin, but she hardly reacts, far too used to it. “Please. Alaska. I’m begging on my knees.”

“No,” Alaska says.

Sharon pulls back, frowning. “Brat. Listen, it’s my birthday next week. You have to do whatever I want.”

“You get one request,” Alaska reminds her. “The deal was not ‘Alaska will become Sharon’s manservant’.”

“It’s either this or telling me what your powers are,” Sharon says, ignoring her, and Alaska’s heart freezes in fear. Sharon is far too curious about her powers, convinced that no power could be disgusting, but then again, she hasn’t seen Alaska’s.

“This,” she says, and Sharon grins.

“Awesome. Let’s go.”

“Now?” Alaska laughs, disbelieving, and Sharon smiles down at her triumphantly.

“Less time for you to back out. Now, come on!”

Alaska follows somewhat reluctantly, abandoning her half eaten lunch with some remorse. She’d probably be too nervous to eat it, anyway.

Twenty minutes later, they’re standing at the top of the radio signal, Alaska frozen with fear as the wind whips their hair this way and that.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sharon shouts over the wind, but Alaska’s gaze is glued to her feet, too afraid to look at how high up they are.

“I hate you!” she shouts back, and Sharon laughs.

“Here.” And suddenly Sharon’s hands are on her arms, pulling Alaska towards her. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Alaska strings her arms over Sharon’s strange hair (“It grows like that,” Sharon had said one night, both snuggled under the covers, a movie playing on Alaska’s laptop. “I used to hate it, but now I think it looks really fucking punk.”) with ease, taking advantage of the several inches she has on the other girl. She leaves a polite amount of space between them, but Sharon secures her arms tightly around Alaska’s waist, pulling them closer together.

Sharon grins, their faces mere inches apart, and Alaska struggles not to blush. “You ready?”

The sky starts to darken, the scent of ozone filling the air. Alaska thinks she can feel her body lightening.

“No,” she says.

“Too late to turn back now!” Sharon says happily, and lightning flashes behind her head like a halo. That same lightning seems to be flickering in her eyes, and Alaska feels a thrill run through her, her hesitance forgotten in the name of Sharon’s excitement. “Three, two–”

They’re in the air.

They shoot up higher and higher, raindrops splattering their skin and soaking their clothes. Alaska feels weightless, and she laughs as they slow down, floating high above the school grounds.

“How do you like it?” Sharon asks, face glowing with excitement. She’s beautiful - ethereal. Alaska thinks she might be in love.

Alaska grins. “This is amazing!”

“Want to do some tricks?”

“Jesus Christ, yes!”

Sharon shoots up a little more, the soft rain hitting their faces a little harder, and she spins, swoops, and dives. Alaska’s stomach dips like she’s on a rollercoaster, and she can’t stop laughing, chest filled with happiness and wonder. They come to a stop again, laughing with delight.

This is beautiful. Sharon’s gift is so beautiful, full of wonder and power, and Alaska feels a small spark of jealousy that her own gift isn’t quite so stunning.

To her horror, she feels a familiar prickling on her arms, and all she can do is stare into Sharon’s  eyes with terror. Sharon frowns.

“Are you okay?” Sharon asks worriedly. “Did something happen? Did I fuck it up? Alaska, I am so sorry–”

“No!” Alaska interrupts, horrified. “No, Sharon, God, I’m – fuck.” She looks at Sharon’s bicep, wide eyed and embarrassed, and she can’t do anything to stop Sharon from following her gaze.

A green vine has wrapped itself around Sharon’s arm almost protectively, and Alaska hates it for giving away her feelings, for showing itself at such an important moment.

It starts to bloom little white flowers, making itself flashier just to spite her.

Sharon watches it, stunned, and as she turns her gaze back onto Alaska’s face, Alaska can’t help the sob that comes out.

“I’m so sorry,” she warbles, and she curses the shake in her voice. “I try to keep it from happening, but sometimes–”

“Alaska,” Sharon says softly, clearly bewildered. “It’s okay.” But she’s starting to lower them back onto the signal tower, and Alaska has no doubt that she wants to get away as quickly as she can.

She’s ruined it.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs as their feet touch the metal. She tries to pull away, but Sharon catches her arms, pulling her close again. “Don’t touch–” Alaska starts, but it’s too late. Sharon’s eyes are flickering over her arms, looking at the green stems and pink blossoms that have sprouted out of her skin. It’s disgusting, and Alaska feels nauseous at the thought of Sharon seeing this. She didn’t even get a chance to prelude it with a warning, a disclaimer - she’ll be disgusted.

She has no chance with Sharon now.

The realization makes all of the fight go out of her, and she slumps, disheartened, looking anywhere but Sharon’s face.

“Alaska–”

“No,” Alaska interrupts, upset and unsure of how to channel it other than through anger. “Don’t even try to lie to me. I’m disgusting. This is - this is disturbing, I don’t even understand how you’re still here right now,” she can tell her voice is getting louder, more distressed, but she can’t bring herself to care. “I would be–”

“Alaska,” Sharon says again, and the feeling of a hand on her cheek has Alaska snapping her mouth closed, startled. “This is beautiful.” She brushes Alaska’s cheek with her thumb, and Alaska feels something bend with her touch.

“Of course they’re on my fucking face,” she barrels on, anger and stress welling up within her again, but Sharon’s smile nips the feeling in the bud. No pun intended.

“No,” Sharon says, her other hand coming up to cup Alaska’s face. “Alaska. You’re beautiful.”

Alaska stares at her. “Really?” she says softly, and Sharon raises her eyebrows.

“‘Really?’” she mocks. “Alaska, you have flowers growing all over you. Purple, pink, white, green - you’re fuckin’ Persephone. You’re a goddess, you’re–”

Alaska cuts her off with a kiss, launching forwards and wrapping an arm around Sharon’s neck, her own fingers coming up to graze her jaw. Sharon stiffens for a moment, just long enough to make Alaska second guess herself, before she relaxes, deepening the kiss.

“I think I love you,” Alaska says breathlessly when they break apart. Sharon grins.

“I think I love you too,” she says. “I should have known flattery was the way to get you to–”

Alaska shuts her up with another kiss.

It’s nice, finally having a way to shut Sharon up. Maybe she’ll keep this kissing thing going for a while longer.

[clownistyping]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 9

Im sitting in a car for like 3-4 hours contemplating if this is a good chapter or not. Give me your criticism or else

First

Previous

Next

Cover by @laneygthememequeen

"Was it a nightmare?" Beetlejuice asked as he held your waist under the covers. 

"Not exactly." You mumbled as your fingers skimmed his hair. Picking out the dirt from it you continued. 

"I..I think I met my creators" You said confused as he hummed. 

"Like your parents?" He looked up at you, 

"Close, but they were huge." You explained to him the 'Gods' appearances. He listened intensely, nodding after each sentence. 

"Hot." He chuckled, and nuzzled into your waist. You thought for a second to yourself as you unconsciously played with his hair. 

"You're a ghost, right?" You asked, he hummed. 

"Yep, but some call me a demon." He chuckled and nuzzled into your hand, you hummed. 

"Is it because you've got more ghost magic than others?" He shrugged. 

"Can't help it, I'm special." He scooted up so his face was closer to you. Leaning on his hand he looked down at you. 

"I've got a mom." You perked up from this. 

"What? Thought you just came from the dirt ready to go." You laughed. 

"Nope, got a momma" He cooed and leaned closer to you. 

"But I can be your da-" you pushed him away and laughed. 

"Tell me more about her." You said and leaned into his chest. 

"She was a smoker." He stated as he started to rub circles on your neck. 

"Anything else?" You mumbled, closing your eyes. He stayed quiet for a second, the circles turned to swirls. 

"She works in the neitherworld, case manager. Helps the dead dealing with the living." 

"Mmm.. I knew a ghost once...whats the afterlife like?" 

"Well right now, it's been fuckin great." He nuzzled into your hair and you sighed. 

"No I mean at first.. like when you die and show up." 

"It's...painful..but at the same time I'm numb." He starts.

"But when I showed up to the netherworld there were so many people. It was kinda of sad..so many people forced ta work because they didn't wanna live. I mean hell. I was gonna have to work at some borin ass desk for infinity." 

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. It was dark but his eyes did seen to slightly glow green. 

"The suit makes sense." You smiled and he laughed. 

"Just be glad you can't die. You'd hate the afterlife." He said and you frowned. 

"Well I don't know." You started, 

"I've always..dreamed of dying. But it's just a dream." You pick at his suit, noticing some holes. 

"I just wanna be alive again.." he mumbled. 

You looked up, his eyes glowed as you both stared into each other's eyes. 

"Ironic, huh?" He chuckled and leaned closer, you felt his cold breath on you. 

"Very." You whispered and shivered, suddenly his lips pressed against yours. 

Your hands grabbed his hair, tugging it slightly as his hands pulled your head closer. You felt his tongue invade your mouth, it was slimy. 

He gripped the back of your neck, at first he pulled you closer but then he pushed you away. His eyes looked, weak, maybe afraid. 

You were panting, he was quiet. Your brows scrunched, this was a bad idea. But you let it happen, hell you were the one who pulled his hair. 

"Goodnight, Beetlejuice." You mumbled and hid in his chest. His eyes were wide but he smiled down at your blushing face, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you closer. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." 

TAG LIST

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

@if-youd-be-my-soft-fuzzy-man @dunununun @theannonomusgamblerpt2 @laneygthememequeen @zelda2248 @anamoshigirl @obsessed-librarian @randomfanders-blog @holy-fucking-shit @juni-berries @rallsa @ladylensveracity @lokischesthair @vivienex13 @ah-callie @asilentcruellullaby @1-rosewiththorns @apocalypseillustrate @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @westiefromtheeast @buggbeverage @bumblebeests @renlup @yeemotrash214 @cryptidslasher

[kathyprior4200]

Hidden Hazbin Sins

NOT FOR KIDS! NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED.

For many of the residents in Hell, it was an average day of chaos, murder, sex, drugs, and drama. Poverty-stricken demons smuggled food from dumpsters while others snuck into darkened stores. More disturbingly, other demons even resorted to cannibalism on unlucky citizens who had been killed in gang fights, run over, or stabbed to death by Exterminator harpoons.

The Happy (Hazbin) Hotel seemed to be running fairly smoothly with the addition of the clean-freak cyclops demon Niffty and even the indifferent gambling alcoholic Husk. Charlie, the blond-haired demon princess, stood outside wearing a red bellhop uniform complete with gold buttons, gold threads hanging around the brim of her small red hat and a ruby apple necklace around her neck. Her face was white, eyes yellow, and red blushes were off to the sides of her face. She remembered a week ago when the hotel first opened, cutting a tied up red piece of ribbon with a large pair of scissors, the crowd clapping half-heartedly. Currently, she was holding the door for a line of demons waiting to get in.

“Welcome to the Happy Hotel!” said the princess cheerfully. Razzle and Dazzle were busy lifting up luggage and placing them on a rolling cart to go up into the elevator. Though many of the demons rolled their eyes and snarled at Charlie, she kept up her positive demeanor.

Inside, a banner hung over a front desk with several colorful balloons and streamers off to the sides.

“No more sin, share a big grin!” Charlie recited her motto. “Vaggie will check you in and get you situated at the front desk.”

She mentioned to her moth demon friend, who saw her and blushed with a small smile, blowing her a quick kiss. Vaggie turned to a light blue dragon in the front.

“I have a reservation for a room with a balcony,” the dragon said, his wings folded. He showed her his cell phone in his claw which showed the order he had made online.

Vaggie looked it over and nodded. “Two nights here, room 666, with a cost of…”

Charlie looked over at Vaggie. “They don’t have to pay any souls. This place is free for the first one hundred customers!”

“What?!” Vaggie exclaimed in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because I just came up with it today,” she explained. “If we are to encourage demons to come here to get better, why not make it free for them?”

“Your Dad won’t be happy about that.”

“I know. But it’s my hotel, and I might as well leave a friendly impression.”

“Move it, bitch,” scoffed a green snake-like demon with a pink dress and dark green hair who shoved Charlie aside with her hand. Charlie’s eyes glowed red for a second, but she took a deep breath. Vaggie pointed her harpoon weapon at the snake lady and glared. Heeding her warning, the snake huffed, flipped back her straggly green hair and moved on to her room.

Charlie shrugged, as she continued to hold the door. “It’s a start, right?”

Vaggie sighed and continued with her next customer, a werewolf. “Room 66 is currently occupied. 63 is available if you’d like to stay on that floor.”

Dazzle flew into the room, lifted down one of many old fashioned blood-stained key and placed it on the desk.

Vaggie handed the key to the brown furry demon. “The bar is over down the hall to your left. Charlie’s Fun and Games event will start at 7:00pm in the dance room. Ring your room bell and Niffty will fetch you breakfast in the morning. If you have any questions, just ask me or Charlie.”

“I have a question,” said a familiar sounding voice as the werewolf left for his room. The white spider demon Angel Dust strutted up to the desk, with his usual white and pink striped outfit on and pink gloves on four of his hands.

“One second,” Vaggie said. She turned to him. “What, Angel?” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Do you know where the drug vending machine is here? I want some Angel Dust and I’m getting tired of those purple popsies to be honest.”

“What’s in a name!” someone commented from in the line.

Vaggie crossed her arms. “No drugs are allowed here. It’s problematic enough that alcohol is being served here. We don’t need any more of your ideas. I’m busy here!”

Angel continued, “What we also need is a stage with new poles for dancing on. Italian electro music, and a secret strip club in the basement! Man, that’d be the shit!”

A black dinosaur-like demon growled at Angel. “Go fuck yourself, slut.”

Angel just grinned widely. “Only if you watch me, hot stuff.”

“Get out!” Vaggie bellowed, pointing toward the door.

“Oh well,” Angel shrugged. “Time to make some moves on Husk. It’s so easy to warm up to him when he’s drunk…”

Angel happily scurried away while Vaggie face-palmed. “Someone kill me a second time,” she muttered out loud.

“Can I do it?” asked the snake demon, who peered out of her room.

“No!” Charlie and Vaggie yelled at the same time, startling the snake who ducked back into her room. Charlie and Vaggie laughed from across the room. Almost losing hold of the door, Charlie grabbed onto the handle again, smiling back at the visitors.

 Later on that evening, the bar was packed full of demons scattered around in every direction. A group of dragons were sitting together, enjoying flaming spirits of liquor that Husk had brought to them. A family of red imps were playing cards over by a booth. Only a group of doll demons seemed to enjoy the rainbow decorated karaoke section that Charlie had set up. They sang at the top of their lungs and danced in a circle.

“See? They’re getting it!” Charlie smiled, sitting next to Vaggie. Vaggie let out a small smile. “Well, I’m impressed, Charlie. Maybe your idea will be successful in the long run.”

Charlie brushed Vaggie’s long white hair from her light gray face, careful not to touch the pink X over her friend’s eye. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Angel Dust giggled under his breath nearby and began to do a slutty dance on a table.

“Anyone have a lampshade I could use?”

A random one hit him in the face. “Thanks, dick!” he called putting it over his head.

“Wow, he remembered my name,” smiled a blushing Dick, an orange-faced demon with an elongated forehead shaped like…

“Will you cut that out?” Husk hissed as he glanced at Angel shaking his butt as the demons laughed and jeered.

“You like that?” he asked, hearing Husk’s voice. “I figured you would, deep down.”

“Son of a crackhead,” Husk muttered.

“Heard that, cat in the hat! Sadly, it’s true, though.”

The two girlfriends relaxed as the demons chatted (and fought) among themselves. Husk drank more booze behind the counter in several gulps. Niffty scurried to dust off cobwebs, mop the floors, and carry any remaining luggage to the room or outside.

Charlie stared at the nearby stage, the microphone vacant.

“Say…has anyone seen Alastor?”

“Nope, not me,” replied Angel, still dancing with the lampshade on his head. “Then again, I can’t see much of anything.”

“Take that damn thing off!” said Vaggie. “It’s unprofessional!”

“Sorry, tots, can’t hear you over the sound of how sexy I am!” he replied.

“Not me,” Vaggie said.

“Nor me,” said Husk. “Thank Lucifer. That radio punk was getting on my last nerves. Glad I don’t have to hear any more dad jokes tonight.”

“But he always comes on Fridays and the weekend,” Charlie says. “And it’s a new moon on Earth, I think. He always comes up with new tricks to share with us during that time.”

“When’d you get into that stuff?” Husk asked.

“Human studies,” Charlie replied. “Oh what it could mean to be a human for the first time…”

“It’s a shithole if you ask me,” Husk replied. “Lost chances, war, depression, the whole nine yards.”

“Or life can be good,” said Vaggie, “Until, you get…assaulted by a bunch of masculine pigs.”

An old pig demon oinked at her in anger and slurped up a mud smoothie.

“Heh, no offence?”

“It’s alright, Vaggie,” said Charlie. “Perhaps when we go to Heaven, we’ll learn more about all kinds of people.”

“I can’t hear you,” Vaggie mentioned.

Charlie snapped her fingers and the noise in the bar dulled own to a fading hum. The spell would last for several minutes. For now, it was just Vaggie and Charlie talking in the crowded room, no one else noticing.

“You’re the daughter of the devil and a seducing being,” Vaggie pointed out. “You may not ever get redeemed.”

“But how do we know?” Charlie asked. “Think about it. My dad got sent down from Heaven for going to the dark side. There has to be a way for demons to rise up from Hell! There’s like two sides of a large coin.”

“You’re forgetting Earth and tons of other places,” Vaggie said. “Even if that would be the case, how good would we have to be to get sent to Heaven or even back to Earth?”

“Perhaps by showing more…humanity.” Charlie said, wistfully.

“Ugh, not this again.” Vaggie leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Look. I’m willing to be open minded about the possibility of Heaven existing. It’s something I learned about in my life, after all. But to think these demons have some connection to humans…”

Charlie cut her off, lowing her hands sideways slightly in a downward motion to make her point. “They not only used to be souls…they are still souls! Deep down, as long as they’re somewhat alive, they retain some amount of their human characteristics from their past lives!”

“Not fuckin’ buying it.”

“Vaggie, it only makes sense. I’ve seen it for myself when my family showed me the Purge. They briefly showed their human forms before they were killed. This proves that they aren’t true monsters. They need help. They need love, just like everyone else. Dad and Mom don’t want to believe it, but…I have a feeling they also know it to be true.”

Charlie continued, changing the topic into something more light-hearted. “Perhaps Heaven has animal-like bipedal creatures as well, but nicer and fluffier! Maybe with angel wings. Humans and animals are everywhere, within many angels and demons!”

Vaggie held on firmly to Charlie’s shoulders, and stared her straight in the eye, raising her voice slightly more toward a normal tone. “Charlie, listen to me. I, too, have…seen things. Earth, Heaven, Hell…they’re all different. From what I heard, angels belong in Heaven and demons belong in Hell. The evil humans come down here, already dead. Living humans belong on Earth. That’s just the way it works.”

Something in Vaggie’s eyes told Charlie that her friend wasn’t entirely convinced of her own spoken words.

“Swear on your afterlife…for your own safety and sanity, you will not tell anyone else about this.”

Charlie looked around, eyes wide. “Do you think…some demons will want to take advantage of me and…my position as heir?”

“Finally out of your childhood comfort zone,” Vaggie mentioned with a solemn nod. “Please, Charlie. I will do whatever I can to help you redeem these sinners. But, promise me, you will be smart and always watch your back. You can’t trust everyone.” Vaggie stared at her scarred chest and put a hand up to her eye. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”

Charlie’s soundproof spell had ended, and the noise of the bar came back in full force.

“Ya girls done?” Angel asked, white hair frazzled from dancing and wearing the lampshade.

“Yep,” said Charlie. “Anything you need?”

“Other than a whiff of coke and a thrill of a fight, I’m good.” He picked up a cherry from a drink and sucked on it.

“Time to go see Cherri Bomb. She’s making actual cherry bombs for our next turf attack! Catch you guys later!” He winked and swaggered out of the room.

“Why did you bring him here, again?” Vaggie asked with a sigh.

Charlie answered. “He was clean for two weeks, and now…well, I’m going to give him another chance. It’s the only thing to do.”

“Whatever you say,” Vaggie answered. She held on gently to Charlie’s hand and the princess squeezed back affectionately.

 “But seriously, though…where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, more to herself, looking back at the stage. “He was a big help to starting the hotel and it was fun dancing with him.”

“I swear I’ll gut him if he ever makes a move on you again,” Vaggie seethed. “Let’s forget about that cocky bastard and enjoy ourselves.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Charlie smiled. “But I have faith that he’ll change for the better. You’ll see.”

  The red neon Pentagram symbol in the sky was the only thing that lit up the time that was considered night time. Though the sky was constantly red, the demons still kept track of time in their afterlives, despite the fact that such a concept may not exist outside of Earth. The one thing that died harder than any sinner was old human habits.

Two small imp-like demons by the names of Tee and Vee wondered around in the shadows, Tee holding a small black cell phone. Tee was short, fat and dark purple in color, while Vee was thin and red. Both had horns, clawed feet and hands as well as small pointed tails. Both were wearing black suits with blue Wi-Fi logos on them. They were mini mercenaries and spies hired by none other than Vox, the TV demon. On this night, they were sent on another one of their missions.

They spoke in New York accents or perhaps Australian accents. It was hard to tell because they talked so fast.

“Another night, another dollar,” Tee said. He reached for a small arrow and threw it at an unsuspecting ogre. The beast roared as the arrow exploded against his foot. The ogre fell to the ground and Tee jumped up toward his face. In one swift motion, mid jump, he got out a spear from his utility belt and stabbed it right though the ogre’s large yellow right eye. Vee stepped in to finish the job, finally ending the monster’s agonized yells.

The duo had their gruesome eye kabab snack on a spear as they walked along.

“Need at least 66 kills tonight,” said Tee. “That should be doable.”

“But remember what Vox really wants,” Vee reminded him. “A chance to overthrow his rival overlords. Just think, we’ll be internet stars after we help Vox conjure Hell!”

Tee elbowed him sharply. “He will get all the credit, jackass, not us. We’re just doing this ‘cause we have no choice.”

“Oh, don’t be so glum, bum,” Vee said. “Though yours is quite big.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Anyway, we’ll still be recognized in some form. Perhaps he’ll be especially pleased with us and beckon us over to his bedroom…”

Tee shook his head, clenching his purple fists. “All Vox does is take selfies with Velvet and talk dirty to Valentino on the phone. He gets the good life, while we’re out here doing his dirty work.”

“Makes it easier on him,” Vee said. “He’s busy making plans, after all. You know about the New World Order? Project Mech Tech? Several secret plans of his involving keeping everyone glued to their screens. Brainwashing, propaganda, convincing ads. It’s already just as powerful as it is in the human world. ‘Xept down here, Vox can bend others to his will.”

“Like…us?”

“Those who are either sheep or foolhardy enough to stand up to him.”

“But they’re demons, not sheep.”

“Tee, you retarded, ass!” He punched his college in the face and the two demons rolled down the street in a snowball spiraling brawl.

They yelled and grabbed onto each other’s tails, biting and screeching insults.

“Tee, pee!”

“Bum, scum!”

“Gas ass!”

“Slut, mutt!”

Nearby, a smoking female hellhound barked in disapproval.

“Butt…what?”

Vee stopped and stared straight ahead.

“Coward, what’s your pro…” Tee began, before noticing the direction the orange demon was looking toward.

“…blem?”

They stood up and saw a long black alleyway in front of them. The ground was littered with broken glass, cigarette butts, and the occasional skull here and there. Graffiti was spray-painted on the brick walls in various colors of red, blue, yellow, and green. They were mostly expletive words, nude women, and crying demon stick figures surrounded by flames. Further up above, someone had spray painted a rainbow with sun rays coming out from it. A foul scent of garbage and rotten flesh permeated the space.

Vee peered into the darkness and heard the faint sound of footsteps and humming. A distinct feel of…electricity? ... hiding among the shadows.

 Tee shuddered, holding up his clawed hands. “No, no, no, no, I ain’t goin’ in there.”  

“I sense a powerful presence,” Vee stated. “If we don’t take a risk, who will? Besides, if we don’t show up with some special report this time, Vox will have our heads.”

“He…wouldn’t…right?”

Vee grabbed onto Tee’s plump arm. “Just come on!”

“Okay…whoa, slow down,” he called as he was dragged along.

They slowed their pace as they reached the cracked dead end. The path turned off to the left, ending in another wider dead end further away. The walls were on either side of both paths with no windows or doors. Well…save for an old wooden door that was behind a pair of old curtains made from circus tent flaps.

A silhouette of a demon stood in front of the door, drawing a pentagram symbol in the air. A little golden keyhole appeared to the right and a matching old-fashioned key was pulled out from a pocket. The key went in and the door opened with a slow creek.

“Let’s go,” Vee whispered. They followed the figure not too far behind from the door.

They continued walking, occasionally glancing up at the red sky above them. The eerie silence was soon replaced with humming from the demon in front of them. It sounded distinctly male and appeared to be a jolly tune. Vee couldn’t quite name the song the man was singing, but it made him feel strangely at ease. It reminded him of those songs he heard at the circus or at musicals he attended with his parents. Not that it mattered now, since his parents were dead due to the so called “angels.” Tee on the other hand, was quivering, his legs itching to race right out of there.

“Come on, man,” Tee whispered. “Let’s kill this demon and leave.”

Vee let out a silent gasp and tapped Tee on the shoulder. “Look.”

They both stopped as the figure’s footsteps ceased further ahead.

For a moment, all was dark and quiet.

A snap of fingers was heard and five white candles were lit up at the same time. They were at the end of the alleyway, this time surrounded by circular concrete walls. The man was standing in the center of a crimson pentagram surrounded by a red circle that was drawn on the ground, taking up most of the space. The white candles glowed with yellow light at the ends of the five points.

“Whoa, is that who I think it is?” whispered Tee, so low that he could barely be heard. He held up his phone and started to record.

 The figure was revealed in the candlelight: a slender man wearing a tattered pinstriped red dress coat, trailing along slightly behind him. Dark shoes with red deer hoof-prints on the bottom soles. Red and black fur upon his head with large furry deer-like ears with black tips. Small dark antlers sticking out from between his ears. Thin neck and slander arms and legs. A vintage microphone staff stood in his right hand.

“Yes,” Vee said in a hushed tone. “The Radio Demon.”

Alastor walked over to a large deer skull stained with blood, antlers still intact. The trophy was attached to the wall via an old wooden plaque. He walked over and slowly knocked on the bone forehead seven times. It was a “shave and a haircut” sounding knock.

The Radio Demon stepped back as the skull’s slanted eyes glowed red. A scroll dropped out from its mouth but with a wave of his hand, it vanished. A spiral symbol in the center of the pentagram lit up: a universal symbol for a portal. The demon hummed some more.

With Tee still recording, Vee excitedly reached for his phone. He had to alert Vox. At last, the duo would be getting their big break…and a hefty sum of souls for their night’s work.

He began to rapidly text, his phone set to silent, the brightness of the screen turned as low as possible:

Vee: “Lord Vox, it’s V, T of 19:29. Radio Demon’s hideout found. Located at west end of…”

“A-CHOO!”

Tee sneezed out loud into his arm, phone in his other hand. The Radio Demon’s ears twitched at the noise. The humming stopped. The candles went out.

Tee and Vee rammed their backs against the nearest wall, not daring to move or even breathe. They heard the shuffling of feet, and the subtle sound of the microphone staff moving slightly side to side.

For an entire minute, nobody made a sound. Vee turned to Tee and both of them moved their eyes toward the other direction. Vee held up three fingers then mimicked tiptoeing side-ways. Getting the message, Tee followed Vee, shuffling three quiet steps to the right. After ten seconds, they moved again. Tee still recorded with a shaky hand in the dark, while Vee was careful not to drop his phone.

Vee pointed toward the exit and Tee nodded. Vee began to tip-toe from the wall, inch by inch making his way toward the open wooden door.

A slow creaking sound made then briefly freeze. For some reason, the door wasn’t moving.

A chilling sensation crept to the backs of the demon’s necks. Both of them turned back to look through the darkness.

 But the only lights they saw in the distance were the glowing red radio dials in the Radio Demon’s two eyes. The creaking sound was, in fact, the demon’s head slowly turning backward to stare right at the terrified faces of Tee and Vee.

SLAM!

The wooden door whammed shut, causing Tee and Vee to jump and yelp.

The world turned into a psychedelic mess of vibrant colors. Reds, blues, and greens morphed together in the sky and along the walls. Shadows of deer heads dripping blood danced along a red-lit wall like shadow puppets.

“Open the door!” Vee cried, punching against the wood, which was now colored a strange yellow.

“There’s no handle!” Tee replied, kicking at it in vain.

“Ack! I’m blue!” said Vee, staring at his light blue body in the strange light.

“I think you’re seeing red!” Tee replied, failing to notice his fat crimson body.

Vee grabbed daggers and bomb arrows and threw them rapidly in front of him. The Radio Demon dodged them all and merged into the shadowy ground.

“He’s…gone?” Tee asked, looking through his phone camera.

Vee held on tight his phone and glanced back at the texts, finger hovering over the ���send” button.

The red dial-eyes emerged right in front of their faces, rows of sharp yellow teeth appearing below. Though the sudden loud radio static that filled their ears, Tee and Vee screamed. A voodoo spirit shaped like a black lizard with white eyes snatched the phone from Vee’s hand, dropping it by Alastor’s left foot before scurrying off. He brought down his pointed shoe and crushed the device to pieces, sparks flying, screen cracked. The remainder of the pieces burst into flames and vanished.

Before Vee could blink, two black tentacles sprouted rapidly from holes in the ground and latched themselves onto the demon’s arms, pinning them back. He struggled to escape, but they were wrapped too tightly.

Tee was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, the camera phone shaking with every step. He put the phone in his pocket, ran up to the wall, jumped, and grabbed onto a small branch sticking out from a hole in the worn down concrete. Knowing the branch could break at any moment, he frantically searched around for another handhold.

A-ha!

Up off slightly to the right, was a crack large enough for him to dig his claws into. Tee took a deep breath, preparing himself. If he could push off with his legs, swing toward the crack, get ready to let go…

The branch snapped off as he was forcibly brought down with a hard tug coming from near his legs. He phone fell out of his pocket, landing sideways on the ground. The camera showed two more black tentacles wrapping around Tee’s stubby legs, dragging him toward Alastor as he screamed. Even digging into the ground with his claws did no good.

Another tentacle gently lifted up the phone and brought it back as well.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, his mouth in an ever-present smile. Vee was lifted up to Alastor’s level and held close to the wall.

Vee laughed nervously. “Oh, hey, Alastor. Heh heh. Great seeing you this f-fine night. I-I wasn’t gonna do anything, I swear.”

The reply was a dark chuckle mixed with static.

Vee felt Alastor’s four-fingered hands grip his head.

“I…I won’t say anything! Way too young to die again. Please…”

Vee’s head crashed against the wall with a loud thud. He let out a high pitched scream.

“Owww! No! Tee, get outta…AUUUGH!”

Vee gagged as his skull cracked against the concrete. Bile filled the demon’s mouth and dark red stained the wall. He gasped for air, black spots across his vision. After his head was slammed against the wall a third time, Vee’s eyes rolled back and his thin body limped downward, relaxed.  Shards of skull and bits of brain spilled to the ground. Alastor reached down toward the utility belt, and pulled out a dagger. He severed the demon’s head, clean off. The lifeless head fell to the ground, rolling until stopping near a restrained Tee.

Tee reeled back as far as he could, yelling through a tendril that was covering his mouth. Alastor smiled down at him, red dials moving, antlers expanding from his head. He held out his palm and flames appeared along with faint symbols hovering around them.

For several minutes, all Tee knew was a searing hot pain consuming his body, the smell of smoke, and the reeking smell of burning flesh around them. He inhaled the smoke and heard the radio static buzzing in his ears. All Tee could do was close his eyes and wait out the agony. Hoping that the heat and noise would soon…

Fade away…

Slipping into…black…

…constant…

…peace.

 With that, the Radio Demon tossed the phone into the flames, the camera and screen revealing his demonic face before the device exploded into electric sparks.

 The colors returned to normal and the flames went out. The only sound was the sound of static, slowly fading back into the vintage microphone. His eyes returned to their normal full red color and his antlers shrunk until they were small sticks on his head once again.

   He snapped his fingers and the white candles lit up again. The skull’s eyes glowed red.

Clearing his throat, Alastor spoke the password in the Creole language:

“Ou pa janm konplètman abiye

San yon souri!”

(You’re never fully dressed without a smile)

  The eyes glowed green and the ground below him vanished. Flames rose from the circle surrounding the pentagram. The inner circle was now a portal to a “basement” of Hell.

Several shadowy spirits rushed out of the hole, ecstatic to be free and to roam wild. Though the ground had disappeared below him, he stood perfectly still where he was.

More tendrils rose from the ground and wove together to form stairs starting at the top near Alastor’s feet. He walked merrily down as the portal slowly closed.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way forward.

“My cozy lair, how much I’ve missed you.”

The lair was a sort of mashup between a haunted house and a middle class home from the early 1920’s.

Black walls stood on either side, blending in so well, it looked like the black ether outside. Red metal columns lined the sides and supporting the high black ceiling above. The black floor stopped at an area and wooden floorboards filled the rest of the ground. It gave the appearance of a floor torn up by an earthquake on the edge.

The first room was the living room. An elegant fireplace contained red flames that were constantly burning. A black leather couch faced a red wall that was decorated with various deer head trophies of many sizes. Some were stuffed versions of real brown deer. Others were the rotten partially furry heads of deer monsters from Hell. A fair amount were deer skulls with arching antlers. A resting rifle was displayed on the top of the fireplace, the same one he used as a human long ago. A red rug lay below the couch and took up much of the living room. The walls had borders with antler designs all in a row.

 Attached to the living room was the kitchen. The wood floor met black and white checkered tile, a green line separating the different kinds. There was a high wooden countertop with a couple of bar stools facing the living room. Several appliances included an old fashioned stove, wooden cabinets, a metal sink and a mustard yellow fridge with an icebox.

Alastor opened the fridge door and gasped out loud.

“Oh my Satan!”

Among the eggs, food, and drinks was a severed purple demon head, with one eye missing.

He reached in with his hand…and pulled out an empty cartoon.

“Curses, I’m out of milk!” he exclaimed. “How am I supposed to have cereal tomorrow?”

He shut the door and sighed. “Oh well. I can always have a snack, instead.”

 There were fans in every room (no air conditioning in Hell). To the left of the kitchen, a darkened path led to the bathroom and two bedrooms. There was also an extra room where Alastor kept all his radio equipment ready: a small microphone, headphones, a control panel of buttons, and even a sign that would lit up and read “on the air” in bold letters.

The bathroom consisted of a toilet, and a vanity with a mirror and a sink with two separate faucets for hot and cold water. Taking up much of the space was a black clawed bathtub in the shape of a cauldron. Alastor turned one of the knobs and a stream of dark red blood jetted out of the large faucet. He turned another knob and streams of red liquid sprayed out from the dish-sized shower head overhead. He tightened the knobs and the blood ceased flowing.

“Good, it still works,” Alastor said, relieved.

He made his way past the guest bedroom to his own room.

A twin-size bed had red satin sheets and a quilt made of soft deer fur neatly folded on the top of the bed toward the edge. The two pillows were neatly fluffed up and propped against the wooden headboard.

Closer to the doorway stood an old fashioned small screen TV with two large antennae jutting out from the top. It was light tan in color, complete with knobs on the front and to the sides. When he pushed the power button on the remote, a black and white show slowly appeared on screen. Unlike many old TV’s and remotes, Alastor had upgraded his with magic, allowing him to go to multiple channels. He watched some picture shows for a while on his bed, then turned the TV off.

He peered out a window, watching the outside world…or lack thereof.

This was a void world, a dimension where the Loas and shadow spirits resided and where the black tentacles originated…from mythical monsters in dark pits. Alastor’s lair hovered in place among the blackness. The demon grinned as he spotted rogue demons being chased, and sometimes mauled on by voodoo shadow creatures. A wrecked blaster from Sir Pentious’ blimp floated in the space. Here was were all the items and victims went when Alastor pulled them into the parallel place. Sometimes Alastor would send unlucky individuals here for entertainment and substance for the Loas. In return, they allowed him easy control of his powers. (Sure he was powerful enough already on his own, but even he knew that dark magic was dangerous for everyone.)

 Alastor stepped down and opened his closet doors, revealing an array of suits, pants and shoes, mostly in dark reds and blacks.

 But nestled behind the line of clothing was something extra peculiar.

 In a large rosewood cabinet was a collection of hand-crafted Voodoo dolls.

 Large ones made of cloth and straw with round button eyes and stitched mouths. Miniature ones made of wood. Several of them had pins with rounded ends stuck in various places.

 But the ones on the widest middle shelf were the most noticeable. They were small dolls made in the likeness of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, Husk, and even an Alastor one. All the heads seemed to be bigger than the bodies.

How ironic that hands who had performed countless killings, were also so gentle and precise when it came to voodoo doll making.

“I’ll start with mine, as usual,” he said. He picked up the figure representing himself, complete with tuffs of his own red hair on its head, red clothing made of cloth over the body and red buttons for the eyes. The arms and legs were black stitched material, no designs on them. Branded on the back of the doll was a voodoo symbol of protection, ensuring that no one else could use the doll against him.

“At least I can always count on myself.”

Grinning, he put the doll back onto the miniature stage. He examined the Husk one sitting by the crafted bar.

“You really are a grumpy cat,” Alastor mentioned. “But, I’ll admit, you were still fun to make.”

The doll had a white face with black fluffy ends, red eyebrows, black buttons for eyes and a red bowtie. He had a slight frown on his face. The ears were made of cotton balls and a black hat sat on his head. Red wings had been sewn onto the back.

“Don’t get into too much trouble. I want you to be the puurfect person for that Hazbin Hotel.” He laughed and paced him back at the cardboard bar.

“Cute little darling Niffty,” he continued, examining the miniature doll with bright magenta hair and an attached fake yellow eyeball. The white shirt and pink skirt were there as well (though Alastor had left out the poodle design on the skirt).

“Keep being handy and we’ll get along dandy,” he said in a sing song voice before putting her back beside the cardboard chimney.

 “Oh Angel Dust,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He picked up the white doll, which had a small version of the white and pink outfit that Angel wore. He had a black bowtie, a head a little bit too football shaped, stitched smiling mouth and blue eye buttons.

“You get on my nerves, even in the process of making you,” he said. “I can’t even tell what those pink dots under your eyes are for. And your extra arms…they get all tangled everywhere. Well, at least you’re entertaining much of the time. You’ll have your purpose…and not of any sexual kind, good sir.”

He placed the Angel Dust doll on a web made of black string.

“Hello, naggy Vaggie,” Alastor commented as he observed the gray doll with long white string hair and a pink bow on the top. The white tank-top with the leggings were fastened onto the doll. One button was yellow while the other spot was painted with a pink x.

“Charlie’s best friend, yet different as night and day. No one likes a pessimist around, even in Hell. You got used to Hell, you can get used to anything. Even if it’s something unexpected in the future, perhaps?”

He placed her in her spot by a small paper lantern.

“Your pride is conssstricting isn’t it, Sir Pentious?”

He glanced up at a Sir Pentious doll wrapped up in black string upside down.

“You killjoys will fall again in the trench,” Alastor joked as he looked at a Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench doll stuffed into a hole in the wood.

“Cherri, you’re the bomb,” added Alastor to a doll with strawberry pink string hair and drawings of cherries on her clothes and fake eye. “Just try to control any explosive tempers you may have.”

 Finally, up on another shelf, he came to his favorite group of people: Charlie, Rosie, Mimzy, and of course, his dear mother. (Made with deer characteristics like his). The Charlie doll had blond strings for hair, and her face was painted white with the red blushes. From the black bowtie to the white shirt, leggings and shoes, this figure was almost like the real thing. Another Alastor figure was placed in the middle of the three women. Off to the side, a black deer figure representing his father had pins sticking through his chest, head, and crotch.

“Charlie, my charming demon belle, how will you fare in running your hotel?”

Charlie was placed in front of his figure.

“Darling Mimzy, lover of jazz, who are you behind the glamor and pizazz?”

The white-haired, pink-eyed Mimzy figure was to his left.

“A rose by any name is still a rose. We shall see how our collaboration goes.”

The tall Rosie figure with black eyes, and a pink hat and dress was off to the right.

And right behind the Alastor figure was the doll that resembled his mother.

Version one resembled her human form: light brown skin, thick hair, wearing a beautiful dress and holding a bowl of jambalaya in her hands. The second version was her with Alastor’s grayish skin, red hair, red eyes, and antlers, wearing a black dress with skulls and symbols embroidered on it.

“Ma mere…” (my mom)…

“Tu me manques beaucoup.” (I miss you very much.)

His mother’s words came back to him: “Al, my darling, always remember to smile. Keep your head up, leave any doubts and weakness behind.”

Still wearing his grin, he wiped away a stray tear of sadness.

“You’re right mom. I can’t feel insecure now. You sinned in your life…just so you could see me again…still can’t believe it. I won’t let you done and I won’t let myself down…”

He opened up a final section of the cabinet, this one revealing the dolls dressed like overlords. Vox with a pin through his TV head, Valentino with two pins through his straw chest, Velvet restrained in velvet cloth. Most noticeable of all was a cardboard throne standing up straight, but with a visible tear down the center. Lucifer and Lilith wearing white, sitting on the ground covered in necklace chains. A paper apple staff with the apple part detached and the long black part torn in half.

Alastor grinned at a third doll of him positioned on a throne made of antlers and bone.

“…Especially when I have grand plans set in motion. Hahahahahaha!”