#i used to go around saying things like hail satan just to be shocking and edgy and now they see me in some god stuff lmaoooo

[rainbowsunshinegeesus]

i just went to some church thing and i found someone who said they remember me from high school 😦 which means they probably remember me walking round the school looking like this

[9layerdevilfoodcake]

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

//

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

/

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

 

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

//

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

/

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

[kathyprior4200]

Fallen (post episode 4)

 Cletus, Keenie and Collin broke down in heavy tears as they surveyed the area around them. The audience lay slumped and dead in their seats after being shot with arrows and bullets. Metal scaffolding lay bent and wrecked on the wooden stage where Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie were moments before. The former opera singer now lay dead and crushed underneath a stage light that had fallen on top of her. And underneath a broken piano lay the dead crushed body of Lyle Lipton, the elderly inventor they had tried to save.

 The scene was eerie and empty. The nervous well-dressed piano guy had promptly fled the scene, traumatized after the events. And those accursed imps had jumped through a portal back to Hell in triumph.

 As Cletus cried some more, fountains of tears sprung from his eyes. Keenie and Collin rushed in to comfort him. The trio had never felt so vulnerable before.

 “I…I can’t believe this!” Cletus wailed. “We were so close to helping out that man…even though he was shitty and old…”

 “Language,” chided Keenie.

 Cletus continued. “We did everything right, but now we can’t get back through.”

 “It’s not…completely your fault,” Collin said, putting a hoof on his leader’s back in comfort. “It was all an accident.”

 Cletus raised an eyebrow at his comrade. “What do you mean ‘not completely?’”

 “Well…” Collin began.

 “You’re right, it was those imps’ doing!” Keenie interrupted, her white lacy wings flapping in frustration. “If only Deerie had seen what they were doing to us.”

 The three took some deep breaths and sobs as they slowly calmed down. With a wave of his hand, their fancy dresses and tuxedos clothes were replaced by their regular outfits: reddish overalls for Cletus, a light blue shirt and white bow tie for Collin and a yellow dress for Keenie.

 “What do we do now?” Collin asked, almost in a whisper.

 “First thing’s first,” said Cletus. “We find a safe place to stay for a while. Who knows how long we’ll have to stay on Earth?” The others nodded in agreement.

 “Urgh,” Keenie scowled. “First those filthy demonic trash decide to mock us and now we have to live among these…messy mortals?”

 “Oh come on,” Collin gave a small smile as the three left the theater. They looked again sadly at the deceased humans and made crosses with their hands before flying away through an open window. “Things will work out. We’ve helped humans all the time. Surely they can’t be that bad!”

  The three of them later gasped in sheer horror on the streets in a nearby town. A homeless man sat on a corner smoking a cigarette, while his comrade vomited alcohol down a sewer drain. A large man with a mustache ripped off a woman’s shirt as she leaned into him with a messy kiss in an alleyway. A skinny thief snatched a woman’s purse before he was brutally shot in the head by a man with a baseball cap. Two men were fighting each other and swearing, one of them landing a punch that toppled the other to the ground. As a policeman dragged a body away, a nearby band blared on bloodstained instruments. The logo on the drum read “Hail Satan!” in red messy paint.

 A group of men sitting on a bench glanced at the cherubs hungrily.

 “Anyone want mutton chops tonight?” The others laughed and displayed sinister grins.

 C.H.E.R.U.B. stood with open mouths for several seconds. Cletus laughed nervously and made a motion with his arm and fist. “Let’s go check out someplace else!”

 The three took to the sky, trying not to look at the watchful eyes of passerby.

 Collin’s fluffy light indigo ears perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do! We can keep doing our job like before, helping people in need! Now that those imps are back in Hell, we are free to do what we like.”

 Keenie shook her head. “As much as I want to, I don’t think we should just yet. I’m worried that we’ll just cause more deaths.”

 “I might have to agree as well,” said Cletus. “I mean, how can we tell anyone about our accomplishments if we aren’t in Heaven anymore?”

 “I miss my mom and dad,” Collin whined. “How will they react when they find out about what we’ve done?” He gasped. “What if they already know? What if all of Heaven knows and now sees us as…one of them?”

 The others gasped.

 “You don’t mean…” Keenie began.

 Cletus rapidly shook his head. “No, no, no, no! I refuse to believe that our one mistake would lead us into becoming demons!”

 “What if…it’s already too late?” Keenie wondered in fear.

 Collin imagined all three of them trapped in long black demonic hands, their wings and halos gone. Flames turning their eyes red and their skin a charred black. The pale face of Lucifer towering behind them and letting out a maniacal laugh.

 “Oh my gosh, oh my god!” Collin cried, his eyes wide as he shook his head free of the fear.

 Keenie slapped him hard on the head. “Hey, I told you to not use the Lord’s name in vain!” Collin sobbed again and rubbed his large white wool of hair as he flew beside them.

  The setting sun turned the sky a brilliant orange as the three cherubs searched for a safe place to stay the night. Their white feathery wings and halos glowed and flickered in the fading light. Their silhouettes followed the setting sun before they landed in a quieter part of town. Neon signs were already humming in the twilight. From inside nearby windows, several woman were wearing dark lace and high heeled boots, pole-dancing to upbeat music. The cherubs huddled close together, staying under streetlights to avoid the dark unknown. Their wings flapped silently as they moved forward inches off the ground.

 “I miss Heaven’s comforting light,” Keenie sighed. “And God’s light most of all. It seems like this place is devoid of it.”

 “There’s always good somewhere in the world,” said Collin with a hopeful expression. “You just have to know where to look.”

 “The only thing I see are shabby buildings and humans indulging in their disgusting desires,” Cletus remarked. He mentioned to a nearby man who burped loudly after stuffing an entire pizza into his mouth. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

 Collin took a piece of cheese he bought and popped it into his mouth. He grumbled. “The food here is prison food in comparison to what we have back home. It just tastes so…bland and heavy.”

 Keenie munched half-heartedly on a carrot. “It’s still edible at least.”

 “Demons eat nothing but raw meat,” Cletus added. “Back up above, we could enjoy all the vegetables, holy fruits, and drinks we wanted. Every day was an endless buffet…”

 “Stop making me hungry,” Collin remarked. They fell into silence as a nightly breeze ruffled their clothing and wooly fur.

 “I think we should get human disguises soon,” Collin later mentioned as they hovered over the sidewalk.

 “Yeah, like those hideous costumes worked out well for those imps,” Cletus rolled his eyes. “Relax, Collin. I’m sure some of the humans will notice and treat us with the respect I…um, we deserve.”

 Collin huffed. “I sure hope so.” He clapped his large front hooves together nervously as if trying to say something. As they continued hovering past some alleyways, a low growl was heard. Keenie paused, her hair stood on end.

  “Guys…what was that?” Keenie asked, looking around.

 “Probably just Collin’s stomach,” Cletus mentioned.

 “No, I swear it wasn’t me,” he said. “Through I am very hungry.”

 The growling grew louder…it seemed to be coming from behind them. The three slowly turned around and spotted a figure in the shadows. It was a large gray canine with beady black eyes…and very sharp teeth. Drool dribbled onto the ground by its paws.

 The cherubs screamed and scattered away in flight. The dog barked loudly and raced after them. The cherubs zoomed up ahead, avoiding passing cars and maneuvering around figures of people. They zoomed over black trash bags as the dog barreled through them at high speed. The dog raced on all fours, snapping its jaws as it moved closer to them.

 “Get back!” Keenie called, moving her yellow hooves in a frantic kick, just missing its face. The beast just grabbed at her dress with its teeth and yanked.

 “Aaaahhhh! Get off, you beast!” she cried.

 Cletus yelled in fury and raised his hand in the air as he flew. He then glanced upward in sheer shock.

 “I can’t summon my golden crossbow!”

 Collin flew nearby, muttering a prayer while shaking. He took a deep breath and speed toward the dog. He landed a punch to the dog’s eyes…and with a yelp, the dog let go of Keenie’s dress with a rip. Keenie gasped and shook herself. “My dress!” she cried as she stared at the torn slobbery hole. “Look at my dress!”

 “Be thankful it’s not your backside,” Cletus mentioned. Keenie seethed at him as Collin came flying back toward them, the dog at his heels. Keenie shoved Collin backwards toward the dog, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.

 Cletus and Keenie flew as fast as they could until Keenie spotted a beacon in the distance. A tall brick building had a large white Christian Cross on top of it, appearing golden as the sun continued to set. Several stained glass windows showed images of Jesus and the Virgin Mary surrounded by golden backgrounds. Even more spectacular was a nearby towering Christmas tree decorated with gold and silver ornaments and a six pointed star at the top.

 “A church!” she called. “Hurry!”

 They landed in front of the large wooden double doors, catching their breath.

 “My wings are sore,” Cletus groaned.

 “No more flying for a while,” Keenie agreed.

 Cletus knocked politely on the door. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

 So far, no answer.

 Just then, they heard panting from behind them. They whirled around…only to find Collin hunched over, his clothes torn up. There were several scratches all over him.

 “Oh Collin, thank goodness,” Cletus sighed in relief.

 “Keenie…” Collin began. “What was that back there?! I’m lucky I escaped at all!”

 “I had to distract the dog so we could get away,” she said.

 Collin glared and stomped one of his cloven feet. “That’s the second time you pushed me in harm’s way! And the first time was with a whole pack of wild animals!”

 “You’re still fine, right?” she asked.

 Collin let out a “ha!” followed by a “no.”

 “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, folding his arms. The cherubs waved their hands and their clothes and skin were repaired.

 Just then, the door solely opened. A woman dressed in a black robe stared into the distance. “Hello?”

 “Down here,” said Cletus. She looked down with surprise in her eyes.

 “May I help you?”

 “Hi,” said Cletus. “We got lost from our home and now we have nowhere to go. May we stay for a bit?”

 The woman peered closer at them, narrowing her eyes. “You three look familiar…”

 The cherubs gulped. Seconds dragged on.

 “Do I know you?”

 “Um…” Cletus began, sweat trickling down his forehead.

 “Of course!” she called, standing up. “You’re those guardian angels who go out and save people, yes?”

 Cletus stood proudly. “Yep, that’s us!” The other two let out soft gasps and looked at Cletus in worry.

 The woman looked around. “Hurry, inside now,” she said. “The world is full of people willing to take advantage of you savior children.”

 The cherubs bowed in thanks before heading through the door.

 “Technically, I’m twenty-four,” Cletus muttered.

 “I thought we were hundreds of years old,” wondered Keenie.

 Collin grinned, redness briefly spreading to his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, you don’t look a year over two-hundred.”

 Keenie “bahed” at him in annoyance before they made it into the main chamber. The high vaulted ceiling made even the cherub angels feel small. The sky was a dark indigo through the opening above. Rows of arched gaps circled the area near the ceiling, and stone pillars held the ceiling on either side. The floor was in a black and white checkered pattern while a few Greek inspired designs caught Cletus’ attention. The rows of seats were polished and clean, and several white candles were lit in holders, emitting a peaceful glow.

 The woman made way for them and came back with a bowl of fruit and grass. Collin munched on blueberries, Keenie on pineapple slices and Cletus started on red apples. Cletus stared into the apple’s red surface. “Just like the Garden of Eden,” he said to himself. “When Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, she had disobeyed God’s order. She gave the fruit to Adam who then ate one. God banished them from the Garden, cursed them to grow old and die…thus began the fall of man…”

 Cletus stared closely at the apple’s surface, the red morphing into the face of a red goat. A grin of sharp white teeth, red eyes surrounded by black, a glowing black Ring with a Roman numeral five on it…

 “Are you okay?” Collin asked.

 Cletus whipped his head to Collin. “Oh yes, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a grin.

 Cletus turned and set the apple aside.

 “I sure hope we don’t age too,” Keenie added in concern. “I don’t want to lose my pretty face and looks.”

 “That inventor managed to survive for a while,” Collin said.

 “Barely,” Cletus mentioned.

 “We’re still angels,” mentioned Collin. “It is very rare for us to be erased from existence without good reason…”

 “Please don’t say such things!” mumbled Keenie.

 The woman went up to the ornate alter and poured in some herbs into an incense burner. The smell of frankincense and myrrh calmed the cherubs down after a while.

 “I’ll leave you to it,” said the woman. “Stay for as long as you need but stay out of sight more often than naught. If you need anything, just let me know. Be careful dear sheep babies.”

 “Bless you miss,” said Cletus.

 The cherubs bowed in thanks as she left.

 “Sheep babies?” Cletus scowled. “I’m not a freaking baby!”

 “Don’t worry about it,” said Collin.

 Keenie walked up to a stone basin nearby as Collin and Cletus bickered for a bit. Gazing in a small pool of holy water, Keenie thought she saw a ghostly face of a pale woman with long blonde hair, a black crown and large curved horns. The face briefly shifted to another white face with orange eyes and flaming wild auburn colored hair. She blinked a few times and it was gone. She only saw her wide-eyed reflection faintly on the surface. She turned away and arrived beside her comrades.

 The altar before them was made of gold, as was the ornate cross situated on top.

 Keenie, Collin and Cletus knelt down in prayer, tears falling from their faces.

 “Oh mighty Lord, please have mercy on us,” Cletus said. “Please forgive us for the mistakes we made here on Earth.”

 “Father…we only tried to help a broken man get onto the right path,” Keenie said. “We didn’t mean to kill him.”

 “We just want to go home,” Collin added. “We’ll take whatever punishment you give us but please…tell us if there is anything we can do…”

 More moments passed as night fell. Stars and a moon were visible through the glass windows.

“God help the outcasts,” Collin chanted softly. “God help our cherub people. We look to you still. If you can’t help us, nobody will.”

 “I ask for glory. I ask for fame. I ask for redemption to shine on our name,” added Cletus.

 Keenie continued the chant.  “We ask for your guidance, a way to get by. Help us right our fate, listen to our cry.”

 Cletus finished, “Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, please watch over us.”

 All three said “Amen!” before a colorful portal of clouds opened above them. The cherubs each looked up.  

 “Lord Gabriel?” asked Cletus. “Is that you?”

 A sound of clapping hooves greeted them, followed by a haughty laugh.

 “My my, what a marvelous…pitiful performance!”

 The brown furry face of a winged deer cherub came into view. A sense of smugness and superiority was clearly reflected in her eyes.

 “Deerie?!” the cherubs cried, their faces morphing into angry scowls.

 “Wow, I’d expect a more proper welcome from deferential devotees such as yourselves. The human world getting to you so soon?”

 “What are you doing here?” Keenie asked. “We called for Gabriel.”

 “Gabriel sends you his best regards, and says that you guys can rise again and be fully redeemed after a while…”

 The cherubs smiled until she added, “heheh, yeah, no.”

 Their faces fell.

 “I’m afraid you guys can’t re-enter Heaven, like I said before. Nothing you can do about it. Rules and all.”

 Cletus turned red in the face. “But it was an accident! The imps fought us off. They were the ones trying to kill Lyle Lipton!”

 “But they didn’t, correct? Based on what Heaven has seen, you three not only killed Lyle unintentionally…but you caused much more death and suffering.”

 “What?!” all three cried out.  

 Collin thought back to all the dead audience members. They had been so involved in fighting off their rivals that they didn’t even notice them.

 “It was I.M.P.’s fault!” Keenie argued.

 “Yes, but you also played a role in it,” Deerie explained. “You blindly shot your arrow, which later caused the piano to crush the old man. We see everything, you know.”

 Cletus then turned to Collin. “About that time earlier when you said it ‘wasn’t completely my fault…’”

 Collin stood his ground. “It was though. It was all our faults.” He jabbed a hoof into Cletus. “But you were so adamant to kill off those imps that you didn’t consider who else would be at risk. We should’ve taken the fight outside! I tried to tell you guys earlier!”

 “You’re a literal sheep,” Cletus replied, getting into Collin’s face. “You never said a word; you just followed my orders like you were supposed to.”

 “Those imps are nothing more than dirt that the dead tread on,” Keenie added. “We may be angels, but we never go down without a fight. Surely you’d do well with being less of a wimp, Collin.”

 Collin scoffed. “I’m sorry. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys. The loving guardians who actually help those we meet. I just realized that we didn’t let Lyle Lipton learn his little lesson.”

 “Five times fast,” Cletus snickered, but Collin ignored him.

 “We didn’t tell Lyle how sinful it is to be so immersed in his own greed. He really could’ve used his riches for good if we had stayed to help him like we were supposed to! We should’ve explained to our victims why any of their bad behaviors were wrong. But instead we just left them all behind!”

 “What did you think we were trying to do?!” Keenie yelled. “We showed him nature, childhood wonderment, young love and the arts. And it would’ve worked if it weren’t for those meddlesome…”

 “You done?” Deerie casually asked in the air. She finished filing her hooves and had a bag of popcorn with her. The cherubs turned back to her.

 “Far from it, bitch!” Keenie yelled.

 “Language!” Collin warned.

 “You three have learned nothing, huh? You see scraps, I was briefly summoned here by you guys and I gotta get back soon, so I may as well elaborate on your consequences. Let’s see…”

 Deerie summoned her clipboard and her reading glasses. On her notepad, she had drawn cats and Invader Zim characters. A side note read “more musical episodes?”

 “Not only did you kill one human, but you also killed multiple mortals in the theater. This has made Azrael, the Angel of Death very upset. There are many people that are chosen to die at certain times and let me tell you, having to cross and uncross multiple names can get pretty irksome.”

 The cherubs stood silent.

 “In other words, you’re also in trouble for simply…oh I don’t know…doing a business and going to Earth without the permission from your superiors! A big no-no.”

 “But we were saving people’s lives, and teaching them God’s true path…” Cletus began.

 “…or more than likely, saving humans just to boost about your company accomplishments.”

 “I knew it!” Collin called, glaring at Cletus. “Our main purpose is to help humans because it’s the right thing to do. I knew I should have stayed at my record-keeping job.”

 “You and Keenie thought joining C.H.E.R.U.B. with me was a good idea and it was!” Cletus protested.

 “Cherubs are supposed to do various record keeping for soul count, religions, sins and choices made by humans etc.,”Deerie said. “Just proves that I do my job better than you three after all!”

 Keenie smirked. “You sure you’re still not jealous because we got to go on exciting adventures? That we became more famous than you?”  

 Deerie chuckled. “More like infamous now. Cletus especially, you gave into your pride and wrath during the fight. You cherubs are supposed to help spread the holy word of God, and not go into the human world unless necessary.”

 The cherubs lowered their heads a bit.  

 “Not to mention several people you saved ended up as criminals. You know, the kind of people who abuse their children, scam others into giving them money, enslaving citizens in other countries…”

 “How were we supposed to know all of that?!” Keenie cried. “We saved their lives at the request of their loved ones in Heaven!”

 “Which, in turn can cause more global suffering and even an altering of history itself,” Deerie explained. “Lyle was destined to die and go to Hell anyway. Your actions are not befitting to your titles as cherubs in the first place. I’m surprised no one has managed to sell you on the black market yet. I guess you can be referred to as…black sheep now!”

 Deerie burst into laughter, slapping her furry knees.

 “Get out,” Cletus muttered.

 Deerie laughed some more, wiping tears from her large eyes. “Oh dearie me, I’m so clever!”

 Cletus thought he saw a grinning man’s face with red eyes and licking his lips behind Deerie.

 Cletus shook the vision away before yelling, “No I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

 “Language!” the other three shouted, their voices echoing in the vast space. The silence was deafening. Or the noises were hearing.

 “Well then, I wish you three a fun time on Earth,” Deerie said. “Feel free to not call me again. I have no use dealing with fallen sheep anyway.”

 “Can you at least tell us what will happen to us next?” Collin asked.

 “Oh that’s actually pretty simple,” Deerie explained.  “I.M.P. will be dealt with in due time. But as for you three…”

 She pointed her hooves at Collin, Cletus and Keenie, who each gasped in turn. “In Gabriel’s words: ‘You will still redeem and protect human souls but this time under closer supervision. You will learn to live among them for a while in the hopes that your arrogance toward those different from yourselves will subside over time. Only after your true redemption may you return to Heaven. I have the utmost faith in you.’ End quote.”

 The three cherubs sighed in relief.

 “Oh one last thing,” Deerie grinned. “I forgot to tell you the best part.” Collin and the others did not like the look on her face.

 Deerie continued. “Now that you’re here on Earth, you will all be vulnerable to human emotions and sins. Pride, greed, lust, anger, you know it.”

 “Not gonna happen lady,” Keenie spat with her hands on her hips.  

 “Everyone save for God has flaws. You didn’t think that redeeming yourselves would be a stroll in the clouds did you?”

 The cherubs looked at each other.

 “Yeah, so basically you all have a limited time to prove yourselves on Earth. A couple days at the very least?”

 Collin whimpered with droopy ears as his white halo above him briefly flickered.

 “Yeah, so if you don’t complete your mission in time…it’s a one-way trip down for you!”

 The cherubs yelled while grabbing onto each other.

 “Yes indeed!” Deerie said. “I can see you three reluctantly joining up with I.M.P.’s rivals to enact your revenge, turning into the winged devils you were destined to become!”

 “Nooooooo!” they cried in horror.

 Deerie then let out a childish laugh, waving her hoof. “But hey, that’s just a theory! I look forward to hearing about your…pandemonium adventures in the next few episodes!”

 Deerie waved and called, “That’s a wrap! Bye!”

 Cletus charged at her again, but she vanished through the portal and it closed.

 “No, no, no!” Cletus sobbed again, his co-workers comforting him.

 After several minutes, the cherubs stared at the stars and moon through one long window.

 “You know guys,” Collin admitted, “Though you might be a pain in my behind at times, you’re still like my family. Whether we’re in Heaven, Earth or Hell…we can get through anything as long as we stick together.”

 Keenie gave Collin a comforting side hug. Cletus soon joined in and he sighed. “That’s one thing we can all agree on.”

 After staring at the heavens, Cletus said, “We’d better rest up…we have lots of work to do.”

 The three cherubs huddled together underneath another Christmas tree, sleeping on a comfortable red rug.

 Though the mighty had fallen, they could only hope that the meek could rise.

[pirlaemeritus]

First Ritual Experience: taint tickling in Mantova.

Two days ago I finally got the chance to see Ghost live for the first time. I had such a great night, it was really an outstanding concert, which I had been waiting for for months, so I was super excited about it. My boyfriend offered to come with me to Mantova (Italy) to see them, and it was really nice of him, since 1) he had never heard of Ghost before, and 2) Mantova is about a 3 hour drive from where we live. I was a little afraid that he would have gotten bored, since he didn’t know any of the songs or anything about Ghost in general, so I tried to give him something to listen to, to see if he liked it. Though he fell in love with Prequelle, going to a Ritual was still a pretty daunting experience for him, but I really appreciate that he came with me anyways. 

We both ended up having a great time! He was really curious about all the lore around the Cardinal, the Papas and the Ghouls and I did my best to explain to him without sounding like too much of a dork or a weird ass cult member. But besides of this, I was excited to see what reaction could a full Ghost concert cause on someone like him. Therefore, I collected all the best moments from the Ritual, as a kind of a social experiment (?), but also because I don’t want to forget any of them. 

Here we go:

- before going to the show, he saw me putting on makeup and asked me to help him apply some eyeliner, saying “I already have enough dark circles to look like the cardinal, I might as well copy his look properly”.

- when the lights turned on at the beginning of the concert, he didn’t notice the presence of the Ghouls at first, because they were standing still on the stage and got scared when they started moving around because he had no idea they were there.

- when Copia came out on the stage with the red suit on, the first thing he noticed was literally his thiccness, saying that “it’s just not fair”.

- “Is... is he trying to finger the microphone stand?”

- he felt sorry for Aether when Dew started bullying him and called Dew “a mean grasshopper”.

- he kept asking me where the female choir voices were coming from, and when I pointed out the presence of the Ghoulettes (they were kind of far from us, and you couldn’t really see that their masks were different), he was absolutely astonished to find out that there were also girls in the group.

- we were not close to the stage enough to see Copia kneeling down to Cirice someone, so I decided to be a romantic dork and Ciriced my boyfriend. I’m sure I’m not half as charming as Copia or Papa III, but I swear I have never seen anyone looking both so flustered and confused at the same time. It was absolutely adorable.

- he screamed “YES GRANDPA!” during Nihil’s saxophone solo. He had no idea who Nihil was before this.

- when Copia came on the stage wearing the white suit, he claimes he looked “unsettling yet charming”. I’m pretty sure the Cardinal would have appreciated.

- he saw the Plague Doctors roaming on the stage before Dance Macabre started and with the most serious voice, he said “Amazing. I guess we’re going to die”.

- he took a shit ton of pictures during Dance Macabre’s performance, because of the rainbow-colored lights, which he said fitted with everything that I had ever told him about Ghost.

- since he had never heard Year Zero before, he was totally not expecting the crowd to explode screaming “HAIL SATAN!” , and after trying to get over the shock, he stated “My grandma would be so proud”.

- he got scared by the pyrotechnic stage effects and said “I could feel my eybrows catch fire, how are they not dead yet”.

- “I have never met this Sister Imperator that you keep talking about, but she sounds terrifying”.

- he had the most confused look during Copia’s speech about taint tickling, ass wobbling and nipples in general, but he kept laughing as well, so I guess it’s not a bad thing.

- (Referring to Copia)  “I love that he’s so obsessed with nipples. I want to have a conversation with him”

- during Kiss The Go-Goat, he asked me what Dewdrop and Aether could be bickering about, and when I told him about the meaning of the song, he said he would definitely go for Aether, since “that other one looks like the spawn of Satan”.

- he hugged me super thight during He Is. I don’t really have a reason to add this moment to the list, but I want to share it anyways, because it felt so special to me.

- when I introduced him to every band member, I told him to keep an eye on Swiss, since he is so fun to look at when he’s performing. After a while, he stated that he’s “a little slutty, but like, in a really intimidatory way” and I guess he’s right.

- he was super hyped up for the Ghoulettes, and screamed “YOU GO BEYONCE!” during Mummy Dust’s keytar solo. I honestly don’t know what he was trying to say, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.

- he was really sad that I wasn’t able to catch the guitar pick that Aether threw at us (it hit my arm and fell on the floor, but the guy that was next to me picked it up before I could find it), so after the concert was over, he went around the pit, trying to find something else. He ended up finding two Ghost dollars, which made me really happy.

- after we had come back from the concert venue to our hotel, he kept looking at his own butt in the mirror and asked me if I will ever love him as much as I love Copia, even if he’s not as thicc as he is.

- when I told him about how, according to the lore, Sistor punched Nihil and gave him and his sons a white eye, he nodded and said “If she’s badass around to fuck up your genetics, you know it’s going to be a damn strong marriage”

I guess that’s it! I’m sure there are a lot of things that I forgot to add, but this is everything that I can list off for now! I’m so glad that my boyfriend enjoyed the show as much as I did, it was nice to see the ritual from a different perspective. I am also super grateful to him for choosing to come with me, and I’m so happy to hear that he had fun too. We had an amazing night in Mantova, and I can’t wait to see another Ghost concert as soon as possible!

[alphaauthor]

The Quite One- Caliban

The Chiling Adventures Of Sabrina

Character: Caliban

Prompt: you are sabrinas twin sister living in her shadow, no body really notices you until caliban coms along

Sabrina has always been the more out going one of the two of us. She was the definition of a Morningstar when I was not. She was loud and I was quite only taking when I felt the need to. I liked staying at home with my cat, celeste,  and reading. Sure I liked to go out with my friends but if it came down to it I would gladly take a night at home.

Sabrina came walking into my room and shut the door. She looked at me as I put the book I was  reading down. “ what you doin Cass ?” she said trying to start a conversation with me, but I had a feeling that’s not why she came into the room. “ just finishing up a new book, why?” I said eyeing her when she walked father into your room. We had a stair off before she finally took a breath and said “ look it’s going to sounds crazy, but we need to go hell”. I looked at her and put my book down on the night stand next to you bed sitting up a little more. “ What do you mean we need to go hell?”

Sabrina looked at me and signed “ I can’t just leave nick down there, he did nothing wrong and is being tortured for it, I need to go to save him! And I need your help doing it.” She looked at me with hopeful and pleading eyes. After a lot more convincing Sabrina had convinced me to go to hell.

Not only had she managed to convince me into going she also convinced Harvey Ros and Theo into going with us. Sabrina found a way to get to hell. Currently you where standing with Dorian gray who was telling us that without the flower the spell to bring us all back would not work.

Sabrina looked at the painting before turning around to look at all of us “ I love you guys and also, stay close” she said. Sabrina turned back around and locked at the picture 

“ Here we pass into the unholy kingdom

through we pass into the city of fear

Eye into the gate for the lost and forsaken

Abandon all hope ye who enter here”

As Sabrina was saying the spell the wind stated pick up all around me. Sabrina walked forward the painting before placing her hand upon the painting and then it was like we where all falling and the next thing I remember is washing up on shore coughing up water in the sand.

Sabrina looks up form where she was and looks at everyone “ is everyone ok?” She ask you all look at her and shake your head yes. Harvey starts to get up and look around “ wait so hell is a beach?” He says with confusion in his face. I hadn’t notice until now but he was right we where all sitting on the beach. I noticed a rock with writing in it, “ the shores of sorrow” I read out loud to the whole group while still trying to catch my breath.  we all sat up and take a look around Theo stands up and points to something “ Guys look” Our eyes go to what he was pointing at, I stand up right next to him “ what are those?” 

 Right in front of my eyes there where cage like things with arms reaching out of them, the sight itself was very unsettling 

“ The souls of the damned” I heard a voice say from behind me. I turn around to see who the voice belongs to. What i saw was not what I was expecting, it was a boy who looked to be about my age with sandy color hair wearing a white open shirt. The mystery man makes eye contact with me as I turn around  “ they drown as the tide comes in, over and over for all eternity.”. the mystery man continues with eye contact with me, I want to look away but just can’t seem to pull my eyes away from him.

“ Hi” Sabrina says as she steps in front of me making me break eye contact with the man. In doing so blocking me from his view. from what I could see The mans smirk dropped as her looked at my sister.

“Where looking for Lilith” When he doesn't answer her she keeps going “ Madam Satan, Queen of hell? She’s in pandemonium if you happen to know the way”  Sabrina said in a cheerful voice. While moving me behind  her even more so that I could not see him. The man raised his hand and pointed to a trail of blood 

“ All blood flows to pandemonium”   he said with no emotion on his face. The man looked back and Sabrina “ Follow the blood red road where it flows and there you’ll find the throne of hell” Sabrina nodded and looked down the path of blood 

“ Thanks and you are?” Sabrina said while turning back to look at him. “  Never step off the road” he said while moving his hair out of his face and taking a step to the left so that I was in his line of sight, he looked at me with his smirk returning to his face. The man looked me up and down then moved his eyes to everyone feet. 

“ It’s clear that your wearing dead mans shoes” The man looked back up and locked eye contact with me, “ Any demon wroth his salt can smell mortal flesh from a mile away” The man says while breaking eye contact to look at Sabrina> The man starts to turn around to head the other way. We all look at each other wondering what just happened. Sabrina looks at me like I would have an answer but I just shrug my shoulders because I don't even know what just happened.

“ Come on, let’ s go” Sabrina says as she starts to walk towards the trail of blood. I take on last look and the man who went back to building his sand castle. He looks back up at me and smiles. I look back up to the group and do a little run to catch back up to them. all while I can still feel his eyes watching me. 

##########################

Let’s just say that hell was not a place that I liked very much and in all honestly I wish that I said no to coming. After being in hell I don't think that I would wish even my worst enemies to hell. When Lilith found out we where in hell she sent someone to come get us. I was not the biggest fan of her but in this moment I was grateful for her. 

Lilith told us about how the people of hell did not see her as their queen. She wanted us to tell the infernal court that we where handing over the throne to her and she would help us get back home and give us nick. Sabrina and my self agreed to, as the two of us did not want to  rule over hell. I would be happy to never come back here. 

Lilith sat in the throne in front of the court. Sabrina, me, Harvey, Ros and Theo all stood off to the side of the throne in a line. Looking out on the court just made me what to go home and finish reading my book even more as the court was scary and I wanted to be as far away from them as I could possibly be. 

“ Court I bid you welcome” Lilith said while sitting on the throne, the throne room became quite as she spoke all of them turning their heads and bodies to look at her. “The city of pandemonium has an honored guest, may I present to the hordes, Sabrina and Cassandra Morningstar daughters of Lucifer Morningstar”  She said while looking over to us. Everyone turned their heads to look at us. Making me very uncomfortable. I was not used to being in the spot light that was Sabrina's thing not mine. “In his absence they are here to officially declare me queen of hell” When Lilith finished the whole room turned into whispers none of each I could hear to understand. She looked to us as she continued “  isn't that right girls?’ I shook my head yes, Sabrina on the other hand answered her with words “ Yes, that’s right” 

The court did not look to happy that we where handing over the throne “ This is treason! Hersey” One of the Three Pelage kings, Beelzebub, said. Asmodeus raised his right hand into the air pointing at Lilith “  Lilith is a concubine, not a queen!” Beelzebub looked at me and Sabrina “ We do not recognize her.” Thinking that they made their point about not wanting her to be king Sabrina was going to step forward to tell them that it was the truth. While she was doing that I was slow making my way to stand behind Lilith as the men that already my stomach twist in knots kept raising their voices.

The Man kept taking before Sabina could get another word in “ The realms are in chaos, and the earth, the pit, the heavens, the cosmos they all reject Lilith's claim to the throne.” Lilith steps forward challenging them “ and who do you propose would rule?” The three Pelage kings start to laugh as if they had been waiting for her to ask them that. By now everybody was looking at me and Sabrina and the only thing I wanted to do was to go home and forget all about everything that had happened today.

“ All hail Caliban, prince of Hell” Beelzebub said. The sound of the throne room doors opening sounded. The person who stood behind them was not who I was excepting to see. The person who walked in was the one who had told us how to get here when we first got here. Caliban walks into the room his eyes looking around the room almost as if he was looking for something, “ Molded from the clay of the pit itself.  Native son of the inferno,  born to restore and rule our dark domain!” Sabrina looks just as shocked as I did to see that the person we saw when we first came to hell turned out to be the prince of hell. “ Umm Hi?” Sabrina said while looking at Caliban then looking back to where I stood behind Lilith. Caliban followed her eyes and looked at me. Caliban looked at Sabrina “ Hello again” He then turned his body more so he could fully see me as I stood behind Lilith “ Hello again Princess”  He said while looking at me. Caliban then turned his attention back the court in front of him 

“Since the Dark Lord's desertion,  the Nine Circles of Hell have been breaking down.  I, Caliban, will restore stability  and do what Lucifer failed to do  conquer the Earth.  Remake it as our tenth circle  and enslave the tribes of mortal and witch” Sabrina took a step backwards so she was next to me and Lilith who I had take a step forward to stand by her side. “ Tenth? Isn’t nine circles enough?” she said in confusion. I shrugged my shoulders. Lilith looked at us “We’ll lose everything” It was then that I heard a faint whisper “  Come to me girls” I looked at nick when I heard those words knowing who they came from as soon as the words where said. Nick looked back at me and Sabrina. 

The next thing I know i’ m in what in assuming to be nicks mind with Sabrina. “ Lucifer” I say as he walks into the small room. “ My darling daughters” he said while looking at me and Sabrina “ What a disappointment you two are.” “ right back at you” Sabrina fires back. “ You betrayed me, For that your suffering shall be legendary, even for hell” He said with fire burning behind every word he said. “  but you have a crown to claim” Lucifer said while looking at us, finding my voice I spoke up “ We don’t want the crown, never have and we never will”. Sabrina adds in “ All I want right now is my boyfriend back.”  Lucifer looks at us angerly “ Have you no pride girls? This so-called prince Caliban is made of dirt! You have royal blood in your veins! Only you two can restore the balance in hell” Sabrina looks at me then to our ‘dad; “ We don’t care about hell” Lucifer looked at us “ But you should.  When the balance is off in Hell, so it is off in Heaven,  so it is off on Earth.  It's basic cosmology: to preserve one realm,  you must preserve them all.  And already the chaos your failed abdication has provoked  threatens your precious Greendale.” I look at Sabrina in worry, Sabrina however just looked at him and calmly asked, 

“ What are you talking about? What threats” 

“ The old ones are coming, should be rolling in any minute now.”

“ you’ re lying, again”  do lie, and often, but not about this.  Nor am I lying when I tell you  that only a true queen has the authority,  the power, to liberate Nicholas Scratch from this realm.  And the kings will never declare Lilith queen,  no matter what you say or do.  So if you want him back....”  After lucifer said this Sabrina disappeared and I was stuck in a room alone with lucifer. I turn around in a circle trying to find a way out, only to realize there is no way out. “ Hello Cassandra, I thought me and you should have a little chat.” I look at him like he is crazy “ why would I want to talk to you?”  Lucifer looks at me then starts to walk around me “ you know you and Sabrina are completely different people” he says. I look at him when he makes his way back into my line of vision. “ it's not a bad thing in fact I see it as a good thing, Sabrina is going to step up and take the throne and then Caliban will challenge her of course.” Lucifer says “ Don’t tell her but out of you two your my favorite, and although I don’ t want either of you close to boys, I see the way Caliban looks at you.” I look at him not understanding where he is going with this at all “ What are you getting at?” “Sabrina will try to take the throne for herself but I want you to have the throne with Caliban by your side.” The only thing he was doing was messing with my mind “  Why would you want that? You just said you didn't like him” Lucifer looks at him and smiles “  Yes but he has some knowledge of ruling hell and I want it in one piece when I get back, plus I see the way he looks at you”  Lucifer says “ he would do anything for you and doesn't know it yet.” Lucifer looked at me his smile dropping “ Listen hear and listen well, you are much more powerful then Sabrina is. The only problem is that part of you is still a mortal it drains your body physically. So try not to use to much power. Sabrina doesn't have to worry about it because she can’ t access the amount of power you can, am I making myself clear?” 

I nodded not dully believing what he was saying. I blinked and I was back out in the throne room, before I could say anything to the three kings Sabrina looked at me and Lilith  “ no we won’t”. Sabrina took a step forward looking at the three kings “ I am Sabrina Morningstar,  and that throne is mine by blood and by birth!” Lilith looked at me then Sabina leaning into Sabrina “  Yours to give to me, you mean”  Sabrina looked at her “ No, mine to claim” The three kings started to talk but I couldn't pay attention the only thing on my mind was that lucifer was right Sabrina did step forward and took the throne while leaving me in the dust. I was so lost in thought over what to do I almost didn't hear Caliban step forward and start to talk.”  You may be able to take the throne now but what about your sister?” he said raising his arm towards me, the look on Sabrina's face was almost like she forgot that I was there. In all truth I think everyone forgot that I was there. Sabrina looked at me before saying “ only one person can rule, and I think I should be the one ruling it” she says without making eye contact with me “ Im sorry what?” I say while looking at her, Sabrina looks at me “ as much as I love you I don't think you could rule hell” That one hurt my own sister doesn't think that I could rule hell, but she thinks that she can. 

“ If she wants the crown,  she's going to have to prove herself worthy. I challenge you Sabrina” Caliban says. Sabrina and Lilith have a chat in private “ She can be challenged its true but a certain number of signatures are required”  

“ as my first act of queen this court is dismissed!” Sabrina yells. They all start to leave the room Caliban walks up to see “  I'll see you soon princess” when everyone is gone Sabrina try's to talk to me but I just turn the other way 

##########################

Even since we got back from hell I haven’t seen or talked to Sabrina. When we got back from hell I went up to my room and locked the door have been there science. I was painting a picture when all of the sudden I'm in hell with Lilith standing above me. “ I look up at her with a look that could kill “ why am I here?”i said Lilith looked at me “ the courts want you here for this meeting. why? I don’t know.” 

When I walked into the throne room I see my sister sitting on the throne and that only fuels my anger. I’ m about to go up to her to give her a piece of my mind when the throne room doors again. Caliban walks in. “I, Caliban, demon prince of Hell,  challenge the Morningstar to her seat on the throne.” The whole room goes crazy with cheers “Look upon this scroll.  I have gathered 666 signatures of the highest born of Hell  to endorse my challenge.  By infernal law of the court of Hell, it must be accepted.” Sabrina looks at Lilith asking if its true to which she says yes. Caliban continues to talk “Then I challenge you on a quest for  the Unholy Regalia.  The regalia are the three most powerful occult objects in history.  Relics that have been lost to the ages, mind you.  Legend has it, he who finds and collects the relics  may take his seat on the throne, whether they be Morningstar or not.  Do you accept my challenge, Sabrina?” Sabrina looks at him with anger “ Yes”. Caliban smiles “ One more thing, your sister seeing as you do not what her on your team, if I win she becomes my queen, therefore she plays on my team” Caliban looks at me and smiles. Sabrina stands up “ No its not going to happen!’ Caliban looked back at her “ I don’t really think that's your choice to make” he says looking at me “ it’s her choice” Caliban holds at his hand waiting for me to take it. I look at his hand then to Sabrina who is already looking at me “ you can’t be thinking about this!’ I think at Caliban's hand and start to walk toward him. Taking his hand he smiles down at me due to the height difference. Sabrina starts to yell but the only thing I can focus on is the warmth that overcomes my body when he starts to teleport us to who knows where.  

[helaintoloki]

Season of the Witch | Michael Langdon

chapter fifteen: the way it’s always been

masterlist

pairing: Michael Langdon x witch!reader

warnings: language, angst, violence, graphic descriptions, adult content, deception, toxic relationships, abuse, death, witchcraft, satanism and all that other good ahs stuff

notes: sort of a filler chapter to get us settled for the crazy shit that’s about to happen next👀

When Cordelia had first heard the screams of her sisters echoing throughout the hall, her immediate thought was that of her daughter. Dread weighed heavy in her heart and in the pit of her stomach, yet she did not act. Nor did she run to y/n’s bedside like she yearned to do. Instead she thought of the future, of the sake of the coven, and with this in mind she did nothing but hold Mallory back from her attempts to rush out and save her fellow witches.

“Our sisters are dying!” She cries. “Y/N is all by herself in the next room over!”

“There’s nothing we can do now. We have to keep you safe from Michael,” Myrtle explains in a rush.

“Y/N is the next Supreme!” Mallory insists, and Cordelia shakes her head with a sad smile.

“Not to Michael. He’ll keep her powers at bay, keep her under his boot so she can‘t interfere with his plans,” Cordelia dejects. “But he won’t kill her. He could never kill her.”

Mallory, with tears in her eyes, can only nod her head slowly as the ache of her heart grows with each new scream that reaches her ears. She knows that all the help they once had is now gone, and it is up to her to step up. But the question lingering at the back of her head still sounds strong in her mind: will I be enough?

~~~

When she wakes she is greeted with warm smiles and a plate of French toast drowned in syrup.

“Good morning, beloved,” Michael coos, taking the plate from Mead as he sits beside her on the edge of the comfy mattress. “Hungry?”

“Michael....?” Y/N murmurs groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and attempting to rid herself of the disorientation she feels. Something is off... wrong. But she can’t quite put a finger on it.

“Yes?” He replies, cutting her food into tiny bits and pieces. Then, with a furrowed brow and false worry in his eyes, “are you feeling alright, darling? You don’t look too good.”

“I...” and she doesn’t know what to say. What can she say? It feels as if she’s woken from a very long, strange dream, and now being in the real world is too much for her. He’s too much for her. Sweet and angelic and domestic and... and strange. Everything is off and she feels sick, feels nauseous.

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Michael suggest, a warm hand gently caressing her cheek as the other carefully pushes her back down into the silk sheets. They’re soft and cool against her skin, a luxury compared to her old bed at- well, she can’t recall.

“Will you be here when I wake?” Y/N asks meekly, struggling to keep her eyes open as she looks up at the man before her.

“Always,” he smiles, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead in a kiss. And she falls back to sleep.

~~~

There was a storm the day she arrived, hail pelting the windows of the orphanage as she removed her black headscarf and asked to see y/n.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the orphanage work said wearily, “she isn’t... well, she’s not safe to be around. Wouldn’t you like to see any of our other children?”

“I’m only interested in that child,” Miriam Mead insisted.

The process was short. Mead greeted the sixteen year old with a warm embrace and sweet talked her way into the young girl’s heart so that she’d be begging for the woman to take her home. The paperwork was filled, what little belongings the girl had were tucked away into the trunk of the car, and the two were on their way.

“I have a boy back home,” Mead smiled as they drove, a soft rock song playing quietly from the car radio. “Michael. He’s just been dying to meet you.”

“How old is he?” Y/N asked, eyes honed in on the upside down cross that hung from the rear view mirror.

“About your age. Just the sweetest little thing you’ve ever seen,” she grinned. “You two will get along just fine.”

Yes, she remembered now. She’d lived as an orphan all her life until the loving Miss Mead decided y/n was worthy enough to be taken home. No one had ever come to rescue her, no one had ever helped her control the strange abilities she held. No one stopped her caretakers from strapping her down to a table for hours at a time, from using shock therapy to get her to stop moving things with her mind, from locking her in the dark time out room for days until her fists were bloodied from banging on the door in hopes of release. She was alone, and had always been alone until Mead and Michael.

Her Michael. With the shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the all black ensambles that made her heart flutter, the sweet smiles and comforting touches. The softness of his lips and careful, hesitant touches against her skin. Yes, she remembered.

He had always been there, and she had always loved him. And she would continue to love him until her last dying breath.

Yes, this was the way it was, and the way it always had been.

The way it would be.

~~~

“Do the thing again.”

“Y/N,” Michael laughed.

“Please,” she begged, and with a reluctant sigh Michael allowed his eyes to roll to the very back of his head. And the snow fell, and she laughed and she twirled underneath the snowflakes and caught them on her tongue. A happy memory to keep her a happy girl.

“They’re starting to stick,” he observes, watching the sleepy smile grow on her resting figure. She’s been asleep for hours now, reliving the life she believes she’s always had.

“Good,” Mead nods. “All that’s left is to bring on the apocalypse.”

“Yes,” he nods. “But I’m not done with her yet.”

“Oh?” Mead asks with a raised brow.

“We will marry,” Michael declares. “Our souls will unite into one singular being. That way no one will ever be able to take her away.”

“A ritual?” She confirms.

“Yes,” he nods, a smile growing on his lips. “Then she will be ready.”

“For what, dark lord?”

“To help me start the new world.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

tag list: @ticklish-leafy-plant @touchoflangdon @anacerta @bluebirdbts @heda-mikaelson @redlovett @fuck-yeah-bruno-buccerati @ateliefloresdaprimavera @quechulitaaa @theeonlyroman @hecohansen31 @frenchzodiacgirl @michaelsapostle @hoeposey @spider-stud @frozenhuntress67 @jokingarthur @brookethompsonownsme @enigma-xlii @thederpyllamaoflove @psychobitchtess @aangrana

[faeriecxrcle]

Believer [Michael Langdon x Reader] Part 2/?

Reader is Madelyn’s granddaughter and meets Michael outside the satanic congregation.

The service comes to an end not long after.

“I’m gonna stay behind, get to know some of the others,” you tell your gran.

“Handing out cookies is cheating, you know?” she points to your tupperware box, “They won’t have a choice but to like you with those.”

You laugh, “I don’t think a cookie will have that much of an effect.”

She hums in reply “Sure.”

You stand, taking the box with you, then a thought pops into your head, you turn towards the blonde, “Would you like one?” You open the lid and hold it out to him. He looks up at you, eyes wide, and then to the cookies.

Slowly he reaches a hand into the box and takes one. He almost seems to analyse it before he takes a bite. You can’t help but watch him carefully for a reaction. And then he groans, eyes practically rolling back.

“Good?” You grin.

He hums in agreement as he chews.

Your gran interjects, “Come on, let’s get some real food in you,” She brushes a hand over his shoulder.

He stands and goes to follow her but stops and turns to you, holding the cookie up he flashes you the first smile you think you’ve seen from him. With his voice low, and a twinkle in his eyes, he says, “These are truly sinful.” Then he walks away, eating the rest of it, catching up with your gran.

Your eyes follow him as he leaves and once he’s gone from your sight it seems the spell is broken.

You don’t stay for long after, making small talk with the other believers, how they came to find themselves there, whilst handing out your baked goods. They seem to go down well if the smiles and hums of pleasure are anything to go by.

You leave happy and content making your way to your gran’s house.

Until you walk in on her shouting.

Panic seizes you, you drop the plastic box in your hands, and rush into the dining room only to find your gran holding a large knife to the man’s throat, the other hand tight in his hair.

You go to speak out, but the man just calmly raises his hand at you, still staring up at your gran. This makes you pause, eyes flickering between them both, and then he speaks, “Well, before you kill me, dear believer…see me.”

You watch as she pulls the hair back from behind one of his ears and then she drops the knife as if in shock, “Hail Satan,” she exclaims falling to her knees.

You feel completely lost at the situation, not sure how to approach this at all.

You force yourself to move and slowly you walk over, retrieving the knife from the floor, then you feel a hand clasp at your wrist. You turn to see the man staring at you, then to the knife in your hand. Calmly you explain, “I’m just putting it away.” He takes a deep breath and loosens his hold, his fingertips running across your wrist softly as he pulls away.

You return the knife to the kitchen and once alone you find yourself shaking, the adrenaline wearing off. You take deep breaths, hands gripping the edge of the worktop. Eventually you’re able to breathe normally, and you force yourself to return to the room.

You find him still seated, his head in one of his hands as if he’s bored, his gaze on the table’s surface. Your gran is still on her knees on the floor, eyes closed and whispering to herself lost in a prayer.

You approach him slowly and place a hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. He looks up at you in expectation. At his gaze, your mind blanks. Then you say the first thing that pops into your head, “Bath?” You roll your eyes at yourself for not being able to string a full sentence together.

You start again, “Would you like one? A bath I mean..um...” And you realise you still don’t know his name.

“Michael,” he murmurs.

“Michael,” you find yourself repeating.

“Yes, I would like that,” He looks down at himself pointedly.

“Okay,” You begin to walk away but don’t hear him stand to follow. You turn around to find him watching you leave, “Come on,” and you continue your journey. You hear the chair scrape along the floor and his limping steps follow you.

You walk up the stairs slowly, allowing Michael a chance to catch up with you, “Do you need any help?”

He shakes his head this time, his hand gripping to the bannister as he pulls himself up the steps carefully. You nod and continue.

Once you reach the bathroom the first thing you do is close the lid on the toilet, “Sit here,” you order him. He doesn’t argue and seats himself. You kneel onto the bath mat, turning the taps on, setting the plug in place. The sound of running water fills the silence.

You lean over the bath tub, placing a hand into the water, checking the temperature. You glance over to Michael who’s eyes are closed and resting, “Do you want any bubble bath?” Feeling slightly ridiculous asking him this.

He doesn’t open his eyes, only answers with a simple, “Yes, please.”

You opt for the lavender scented one you use after stressful days, or when you can’t sleep. You figure he needs some relaxing after whatever he’s been through. You mix it into the water making sure none has settled to the bottom of the tub. You hear him breathe deeply at the scent, making you smile softly.

You wait patiently for the tub to fill, checking the water every now and then, and glancing at Michael. You start to think he may have fallen asleep, but then his eyes open automatically once you turn the taps off. He watches you stand, and you point out where the shampoo and conditioner are. As you go to leave he grabs your wrist. Irritation flows through you. You pull your arm back, just as you go to reprimand him.

“Sorry,” He releases his grip, his arm going back to his side.

“You can’t keep doing that,” You state, rubbing your wrist with your hand.

He silently nods, but then he asks you something you weren’t expecting, “Will you stay?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I need help getting in,” he states matter of factly, “And out.”

You bite your lip in consideration, his eyes drop to them, then away quickly once you notice.

“Fine,” you sigh, “But no funny business.”

Now he looks confused but you don’t bother explaining.

You turn around away from him, arms crossed, waiting for him to undress. He seems to get the message and you hear the sound of fabric dropping to the floor. 

He clears his throat once he’s done and you turn around holding your gaze upwards and away from his lower body. You step closer to the tub and hold your arm out for him. One of his hands latches onto your shoulder and with the other he holds onto your hand. He hisses as he steps into the bath, his grip tightening as he begins to lower himself. 

“It’s not too hot, is it?” You find yourself asking. 

He raises his eyebrows at that, a half smile on his face and you find yourself nervously laughing. 

“It’s fine,” His voice low as he lays himself back, “Perfect actually.” 

You smile and stand to leave, wanting to let him relax. 

“Stay,” His voice stops you. 

You can’t help the confusion that forms across your face. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had,” He pauses as though he’s trying to find the words, “Decent company.” 

You realise then that he’s lonely. Silently you seat yourself on the bath mat next to the tub, in the opposite direction to him. You wrap your arms around your knees, resting your chin upon them. You both sit there in silence as you analyse the tiles on the wall beside you. 

You turn to find him watching you. You look away feeling awkward at his stare, and then you hear him slide down the bath. 

You take a peek to find he’s under the water entirely, and you watch waiting for him to come back up. 

Seconds, then minutes pass, and you find the agitation building within you until you find yourself jumping up and pulling his upper body out. Water splashes over the sides and onto you. Your hands move from under his arms to his face, pushing his soaking hair out of his eyes. 

He coughs, his breaths deep and quick, and his eyes open to look at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You shriek, worry turning into anger, holding his face between your hands. 

“I was seeing how long I could hold my breath for,” He explains breathily, his eyes wide. 

You feel like you could hit him, “Don’t do that again,” You growl. 

He looks at you in shock, then nods, “Okay.” 

“Good,” you sigh, sitting back down, pulling at your shirt in discomfort. The wetness of it now clings to you and you find yourself debating whether or not to take it off. 

You decide not to, and opt to suffer in silence. 

You watch as Michael sits up and reaches for a shampoo bottle, reading the description on it carefully before clicking it open and pouring the contents onto his hands. He pours too much, you note in amusement, and he begins massaging it into his scalp. He stops after a while and places his hands into the bath water, washing away the shampoo. 

You stand up and his eyes follow you as you walk to the cabinet beneath the sink to pull a jug out, “For your hair,” You explain to him, and you walk back over to bath tub, kneeling down beside it. You turn the taps back on filling the jug. Michael watches intrigued. You turn them off and dip a fingertip in to check the temperature, deeming it fine you face him, “May I?” 

He nods and leans his head back. Carefully you pour the water onto his scalp, your other hand running through his hair, making sure to remove all traces of the shampoo. You feel your fingertips trace something, it feels like raised skin, a scar. You pull his hair back gently, water still pouring and you see it, 666, engraved behind his ear. You run your fingertips over it again softly, mesmerised. 

“Are you afraid?” His voice breaking the silence. You quickly pull your hand away. 

He looks over his shoulder at you. 

You look back, eyes wide, waiting for whatever he’s going to do next. 

He sighs, still waiting for an answer you realise. 

“No,” You breathe out, placing the jug on the floor. 

“You feel sorry for me.” He says in awe. 

“I don’t know how I feel,” You shrug.

“Don’t lie to me,” He looks into your eyes then, as if he’s gazing into your soul.

You look away quickly and grab the conditioner, pouring some onto your hand, “Let’s finish this first, okay?” Beginning to rub it into his scalp. 

He lets out a deep breath, “Fine.”

And then he groans. 

You can’t help but let out a little giggle and he flicks water at you. 

“Hey, none of that,” You jokingly scold.

“Don’t laugh at me,” His voice childish. 

You smile, “The sound you made was cute,” Deeply massaging the conditioner in now, “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

He doesn’t reply so you continue, “I’m just glad you’re enjoying yourself, you’ve been through a lot, right? 

“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” He murmurs sadly. 

“That’s okay,” You stop to refill the jug, “Lean back again.” 

He closes his eyes as you pour the water over his hair, running your fingers through. You watch his face carefully. It’s relaxed, so innocent, almost angelic you can’t help but think. Unconsciously your hand moves from his hair to his cheek and you find yourself stroking his skin. Your other hand moves on its own, placing the empty jug into the bath water. He still doesn’t open his eyes. You continue, and your hand wanders to his lips, your thumb tracing them gently. His mouth opens slightly and you feel his tongue reach out and graze the skin of your thumb. You inhale sharply. 

He opens his eyes then.

You yank yourself back, in shock at yourself, “I’m sorry,” and you stand, “I’ll just get you a towel,” Quickly leaving the room. 

He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you leave. 

Tag List: @frozenhuntress67

[kyliehorsegirl]

Snakes Ch. 4 (Michael Langdon x Reader)

A/N: Ok so I wrote this in an hour because I was very angsty and sad for our baby. SO here is how I think it should have ended. #michaellangdondeservesbetter

I may write one or two more fluffy chapters to heal our souls. For now I REALLY hope you enjoy this and it makes you happy!!!

If you haven’t read my series SNAKES or you need to catch up you can find all of the chapters at the top of my MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2687

******************************************************

Y/n felt a tremendous amount of energy and power flow her after their ritual. Ms. Meade helped Michael get into a maroon velvet blazer. She offered Y/n a black lace pantsuit. A dress wouldn’t be beneficial in a fight.

 “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I love you and I am glad to have you by my side.” Michael came to her and held her face in his hands.

 “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you too Michael, you’ve taught me more so much about myself, I never would’ve found out on my own.” She looked at him with so much love, before he places a strong kiss on her lips.

 “They will come, it won’t be like the dream. You’ll know what to do.” He looked at her in all seriousness. Her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

 “What if I’m not ready, what if I can’t fight them?” Her voice laced with concern. He kissed her on the forehead.

 “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. You have to trust your instincts.” He was so sure in his voice. He placed on last kiss on her lips before they felt a presence in their domain. She looked to him before taking a deep breath, they made their way out of the room and down the stairs. Michael stood in the front, Y/n at his side and Ms. Meade behind them. Six witches stood in front of them.

 Mallory, Coco and Dinah. She never would have guessed that they were witches, but she could feel the power coursing through them. She sensed that Mallory is a rising supreme. She recognized the other three from her dream. She quickly learned their names by peering into their minds, something she didn’t know she could do. Myrtle, the red head. Madison, the young blonde. Cordelia, the current supreme. She discovered their plan to destroy Michael.

 Dinah made a comment before Michael interluded.

 “How can any of you defeat me when I’ve already won?” Michael stood with a hip cocked.

 “You haven’t won.” Cordelia takes a step closer to them.

 “Perhaps you haven’t noticed the state of the world.” He laughs at them.

 “It’s almost as bad as your dinner jacket, but at least the world can be saved.” The red head’s sarcastic comment was unappreciated as Y/n shot her a glare.

 “By you?” Michael questions darkly, his voice going deeper.

 “By all of us.” Cordelia stood tall and confident. Y/n almost felt sorry for her.

 “Hey, get the wax out of your ears, I’m hear to watch.” Dinah snapped at them.

 “But I’m not.” Coco gathered her dress and stomped in front of the other witches. Y/n and Michael cocked their heads simultaneously. “Just don’t let me die again, it really sucked the first time.” Cordelia threw a hand out at her. Y/n pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “When I’m done, you’re gonna wish you were all dead.” Michael spoke.

 “I always thought the world would end with fire and ice, not witches and warlocks.” Myrtle rolled her eyes.

 “The seventh seal has been broken. Wormwood has fallen from the sky and turned the rivers to blood and fire. The bottomless pit has been open and my swarms of scorpions and locusts have ravaged humanity. The world has been remade in my father’s image.” Y/n almost didn’t recognize Michael as he spoke.

 “Darling, it seems daddy didn’t tell you the most important rule of bringing on the apocalypse, the first thing you have to do is get rid of all the witches.” Myrtle laughed at him. Y/n’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.

 “Big mistake.” Coco said. She had no business speaking.

 “I could annihilate all of you in a second and the world would go on without missing a beat. You and all your work will be forgotten in the ruble of the past, but I want to give you a future. Fall to your knees and accepted me as your Lord and Savior and I will bring you to the table as my obedient subjects.” His voice went deep. He brought his hands behind his back, Y/n watched as the witches giggled and snickered at him.

 “Imbeciles, fall to your knees before the king, hail Satan.” Ms. Meade demanded them angrily.

 “The only way we would sit at your table is if your decapitated head was the center piece.” Cordelia sneered at him.

 “Cordelia, your raised me from the dead, so that you would have the power of Voodoo on your side, but if you know anything about who I am you would know that the only choice I pick would be the winner.” Dinah made her way to Michael and bowed to him.

 “You’re half right Dinah.” Cordelia stated. Everyone turned to a new presence that made its way into the room.

 “She needed the help of a powerful Voodoo queen, but that ain’t you sis.” Marie Laveau. Y/n’s eyes went wide, sensing her power. “To release me from hell, Cordelia promised Papa Legba, the darkest and most corrupt voodoo queen’s soul for mine, you’ll serve him well in my place.” Laveau put her hands on her hips as she sneered at Dinah.

 “You’re a fool Marie Laveau would have done no different if you were queen.” Marie snarled at her before she teleported behind her and stuck a butcher knife in her neck. Dinah sobbed as she tried to stop the blood from pouring profusely.

 “Out with the trash, give Papa my regards.” Marie flipped her hair over her shoulder in a cocky manner. Ms. Meade looked to Michael before removing her hand and revealing a gun, she cocked it and prepared to fire. Cordelia spoke some sort of spell that sent Ms. Meade into a craze. Michael and Y/n turned to see her shaking.

 “Ms. Meade?” Michael questioned with worry before she exploded, sending Y/n and Michael over the railings. Parts of Ms. Meade flew everywhere. Y/n and Michael tried to catch their breaths at the wind was knocked out of them. Ms. Meade’s head landed next to Michael. Tears welded in his eyes before she powered off.

 “Madison!” Y/n heard Cordelia call out, she looked over her shoulder to see Madison reach for Meade’s gun. She aims at Michael.

 “Sorry about your little toy, bitch.” She shot Michael over and over. He backed against the wall before sliding down, blood pooling around him. Y/n remained on the floor Covering her head. Myrtle went up to him and pet his hair.

 “Smooth as silk.” She said with large gasps, as she yanked a chunk of his hair, handing it to Mallory.

 “A personal item, remember dear, focus on it. Use it to focus on a time and place in Michael’s life.” They chanted some part of the spell before they encouraged Mallory to find a place to perform the spell.

 “I’ll hold him off as long as I can, go.” Madison said, clutching the gun tighter. Y/n made her way to Michael, she knew he was ok, but she had to act. She crawled to him and cradled his head to her chest, crying as she rocked him. To say she was having some PTSD was an understatement, but she knew she had to sell it.

 “Michael?” She said shakily. Her hand stoked his cold face. She cried and looked to Madison with tear stained cheeks. Madison paused, only for a moment.

 “You’re going to be next bitch.” There was a large commotion, Madison turned her head and a body on fire fell by her feet. Michael blinked a few times before the blood returned into his body.

 “Oh fuck, I guess its back to retail.” She cocked the fire arm before turning around. Michael put a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, giving her a nod. She extended her hand out to Madison and clenched a fist, with that, her head exploded off her body.

 Michael cracked his neck and looked up to the stairs.

 Side by side, Y/n and Michael climbed the steps.

 “Their coming!” Marie screamed at the witches. Marie performed some voodoo blocking Y/n and Michael from passing. She began to chant.

 “You will not pass.” She said, Michael shoved his hand forward, a force blocking him.

 “You really think your stupid voodoo spells can stop me?” He smirked before shoving his hand in her chest, grabbing her heart. “Is that all you got?”

 “Not exactly.” She Spit out. Before Y/n could turn around, Coco stabbed Michael in the back.

 “Die again, fuck face.” She screeched at him. He turned to her fully, looking down at the knife poking out of his chest. He brought his free hand to feel the wound.

 “Normally that would work.” He yanks the heart out of Leveau, causing her to fall. “but I’m nothing like normal.” He takes a bite out of the heart, licking his lips after. He pulls Y/n to him, offering her a bite of the heart, which she gladly takes. He kisses her in front of Coco. Lost of tongue as they lick the blood off each other’s lips. Y/n brings her hand to Michael’s back and yanks the knife out of his back. He rolls his eyes and looks to Coco.

 He whips his fingers and snaps her neck. Him and Y/n stomp in the direction of the witches.

 “How did you think this would end? Prophecy in inevitable.” Michael spoke, Cordelia turns to look at them. “I was always going to win, Miss Supreme.” He spits Venom at her.

 “Not on your own, you’ve been led by the hand, coddled the entire way. By your father, the warlocks. I look at you and I don’t see a man, I see a sad, scared little boy, so pathetic he couldn’t even kill me with a thousand nuclear bombs.” She bit at him.

 “But I never expected to. I knew like a cockroach I knew you would survive the nuclear fallout. I wanted you to and now I have the satisfaction of watching you die, knowing you failed.”

 “You still don’t get it do you? Even now, you think there is only winning and losing. Success and failure, but failure is when you lost any semblance of hope. You will get to watch me die, but you won’t find it satisfying.” She stole the knife from him, causing him to look at her in shock.

 “Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker.” She plunges the knife into her chest. Michael gapes like a fish in shock. Michael screams as Cordelia falls to the floor. Y/n hears commotion in another room. She runs, abandoning Michael. Mallory is performing a time travel spell.

 They are going to kill Michael as a child. She thought to herself. The idea causing her to tear up. Not yet, she couldn’t cry.

 It was like it happened in slow motion. Y/n ran into the room. Myrtle screamed at her trying to defend Mallory as she went under. Y/n used all of her powers to kill Myrtle, she exploded all over the walls like her dream. Y/n reached for Mallory as she heard Michael scream.

 “NO!” as she touched Mallory, she was brought into the past. She was across the street, laying in a neighbor’s yard. She looks up to see a young Michael start to walk across the street. She senses the black car before it appears. She runs to Michael and pulls him down shielding him, her hand goes up as the car flips over them.

 It crashes and slides up against a tree. Y/n takes young Michael’s face in her hands.

 “Wait here.” She speaks quick to him. His eyes brimmed with tears as he nods quickly.

 She strides over to the car and uses her powers to rip the door off the car. She yanks Mallory out and drags her to the middle of the street. Mallory was bruised and bloody.

 “How dare you kill him, he had the mentality of a child Mallory!” Her hand goes to Mallory’s throat, she lifts her in the air, choking her in a bone crushing grip.

 “He, he’s evil, Y/n. He needs to die.” Mallory chokes out.

 “If you kill him like this? You are no better than he is.” She crushes her throat and Mallory goes limp in her grip. She concentrates and sets her on fire, her spirit ceasing to exist.

 She takes a deep sigh of relief. She walks over to baby Michael, who is curled up with his head in his knees.

 “Hey, hey, shh, its going to be ok.” He looks up at her with watery eyes in awe.

 “Who are you?” He hiccups in between the words.

 “You’ll know when you’re older.” She kisses his forehead and stands. She offers a hand to him, which he accepts.

 They walk and in hand back to his house. She finds Constance and grabs her face in her hands. She looks deep into her eyes putting her in a trance.

 “You will love him and take care of him. No deed he does is worth not loving him. Teach him kindness, teach him love and compassion. Teach him humility, teach him remorse. Be there for him like no one else was.” When Constance snaps from her trance she looks to Michael and hugs him. She apologizes for the awful things she said earlier.

 “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry Michael, I love you.” She hugs him and holds him close. He takes a deep breath as he holds her tight, crying into her shoulder.

 Y/n launches herself out of the water, choking on some water in her lungs. Michael is quick to yank her out of the tub and hold her close. He rubs her back and waits for her to calm down.

 “Are you ok my love?” He asks, searching her eyes for something wrong.

 “I, I fixed it.” She looks to him, proud of herself. A smile breaks out on her face.

 “Fixed what?” He asks in confusion. She stands and offers him a hand, he looks at the hand with a look of confusion. Memories flash like a movie reel. He stands slowly, taking her hand. His face softened. His wounds healed. Tears fill his eyes as he pulls her to him. His face shoved into her neck as he cries. He sees the memory of what she did for him. She saved him, she gave him a chance at a real childhood at real happiness.

 With how fucked up the timeline was, it didn’t necessarily prevent the apocalypse, but it did enough.

 “Come with me.” She smiled up at him, they walked hand in hand as she let him to the door outside.

 “Y/n, you can’t go out there.” He pulled her hand back, preventing her from opening the door to the outside. She brings her hands to his face with a wide smile. She kisses him lovingly before releasing him.

 “Trust me.” She waited for him, he nodded. Y/n opened the door, the walked up the steps of the school when the clearing came into view.

 The sun shined, the grass was green. Birds chirped in the background. Michael’s eyes were wide, a large smile grew on his face. He spun slowly looking at every angle. Blue skies, green grass. The air was clean, he took a deep inhale, breathing in the good air.

 He plopped himself on the ground, laying flat on his back. Y/n looked down at him lovingly, happy to see him happy. He pulled at her hand and brought her down on top of him. He kissed her, a hand holding the side of her face.

 “You did this. I can’t thank you enough. This is one of the best feelings I’ve had in a long time. I love you Y/n” He caressed her face, looking at her in awe.

 “I love you too Michael.” She pressed her head to his forehead, kissing his nose before resting her head on his chest. They both closed their eyes.

 Finally, at peace.  

***************************

I’m not crying, you’re crying....

Taglist.

@squirrelacorngliterfarts @buckynatlarry @delicatefishtreedream @skullchik89 @wth-trippy @teenagevampirebouquet @glamorous-without-the-guilt @first-son-of-finwe @aerite @no-salvation-no-forgiveness @albeeox @starks-narglesand-daddyjamiewald   @bryandechartisasmolbean @beautifulagatha @majesticspellman @homeschool-prom-queen @the-captain-kidd @creepy-jazzy @spidey-starky @envyskitty @depressed-comics @bookwormstrawberry @scarletraine @quione3 @artisticlales @superwarsofthrones @hxdesworld @thebatshitcrazyfangirl @sexxxychiq @michael-langdon-is-daddy @justanotherdaydreamersoul @honeybun5801 @lost-in-the-stories @multi-madison  @agb-random @michaellangyum @xscarlett-rosex @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e @lustlangdon @fuckthatfeeling @frozenhuntress67 @queenie435 

[vjjeons]

whaddup!! i’m acacia (satan). i’m twenty years old, i use she/her pronouns and i hail from the pst timezone! i’m super excited to be in a lil ol’ group again because i haven’t been in one since like… idk?? but enough about me — let’s get to the good stuff aka my girl, veronica jeon. it gets pretty lengthy, so if you just want the overall version of it just scroll to the very end! anyways, if you like this, i’ll take it as an invitation to IM you for plots, so be careful!! ♡

jennie kim + cis female + she/her — have you met veronica jeon? they are a twenty-one year old artist/barista known as the philophobic. a pansexual scorpio, they are independent + bold, as well as stubborn + cynical. their soulmark is a crescent moon on the left ring finger, and they can feel the emotions of their soulmate.

BACKGROUND + TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, death, drugs

to kick things off, veronica grew up with just her mother around. her father had always been MIA. so, she doesn’t have a lot of memories involving him. therefore, her mother dated an array of men. often times neglecting her daughter, with the exception of the times she brought in successful report cards.

when she was thirteen, her mother married a man who physically abused veronica any chance he had. especially when mrs. jeon started cheating on him. so ronnie recoiled around her art for a few years.

being alone as an only child, she had to keep herself entertained. she started off by doodling with just a pencil. but, eventually expanded with acrylic paints and water colors. thus ultimately discovering her love for the arts!! 

she isn’t exactly sure how she’s going to find a successful career path through her beloved hobby. which is why she picked up her job as a barista to make some actual cash flow.

when veronica turned sixteen, she thought of tracking down her father in hopes of reuniting with him. this lead her to her grandmother’s house. who eventually had to break the news that her father had died from a drug overdose before she was born.

though, the news was shocking. it didn’t leave her feeling empty. instead, she found something better — her grandmother. she instantly connected with the woman and eventually found herself making her grandmother’s home as a sort of safe haven.

her grandma even supported her with her arts. buying her any supplies she needed and giving her suggestions on places she can find more muse. basically fulfilling the mother role veronica desperately needed.

but one day while visiting, the woman had passed in her sleep. this took a toll on ronnie considering how attached she became to her grandmother and her home. she would have to return back to her mother’s and her step-father. when she went back, the man attempted to abuse her again. however, she ratted him out. ultimately sending him to his imprisonment.

once she turned eighteen, her mother had packed up her things and left the girl behind. though, ronnie was fazed by the woman’s actions. nor did she feel any lose considering how little she cared about the other.

but good things do happen to v! one day she received a letter explaining that she inherited her grandmother’s fortune. (which she often uses to pay off her apartment bills.) along with a small journal with letters and locations to keep veronica on the right path. to stray away from the hatred and negativity and turn those emotions into something beautiful.

PERSONALITY + RELATIONSHIPS

PERSONALITY: she is charming, creative, and witty. however, she can be quite cynical, stubborn, and reserved. she has that tell it like it is personality. she just calls it likes she sees it. even if she’s not exactly right. she’s witty and intelligent. she’s very particular when it comes to most things. she wants things done correctly. so she often runs by the quote, “if you want things right you gotta do it yourself.” she doesn’t like relying on others to get things done when she knows she could do it faster and better. a little bit of a ocd queen. she’s one of those people that set their mind to something and goes through with it until the end. she has a way with words. her silky soft voice makes it easy for her to manipulate people. (unless you’re close to her, then they can see past the bullshit.) but don’t get her talking about feelings. because you’re gonna just hear crickets if you do that. she’s sort of an introvert. over the years, veronica had to work hard to become the person she is today — someone who is hopeful, who sees art and beauty everywhere, even in the ugliest parts of the world..some days, it’s a little harder, but she never gives up. she’s slowly growing out of her tough head of hair and morphing into a young woman so beautiful over the years, but also at times, terrifying?? self destructive?? even if she’ll never let anyone see her deteriorate her insides sigh. basically she’s a hot mess. but she tries her best to hide that shit. yeye sweg.

when it comes to FRIENDS veronica can always use some of ‘em. she possess the qualities of a good friend loyal, honest, trustworthy. however, she can be quite pessimistic. which might be a reason why she doesn’t have as many friends. once her mind is set to think a certain way it’s hard to persuade her to believe otherwise. she’s the type of friend to listen to your problems, but be prepared to listen to her unwanted opinions – all of them. she’s also the type to put a friend in check when they need it. she thinks of it as trying to convince them to see the bigger picture. first impressions is something she might not be very good at. while she isn’t exactly the definition of rude, she tends to not filter then things she says. overall, i would say that she might just need a handful of friends, a whole bunch of acquaintances, and her a ride or die.

please flood her with ENEMIES. i know for a fact that she has these. being so boldly opinionated and all. you know this girl has more than enough haters. sometimes she has some very evil intentions. she’s vengeful and irrational. but, don’t get me wrong. she’s not pure evil. veronica does have some good intentions, she leans more to the chaotic evil side. deep deeeeep deeeeeeeeep down the girl is trust issue central when it comes to letting people in. she can’t help it. she has abandonment issues thanks to her parents. therefore, she might come off as standoff-ish to new people. she keeps her circle tight. so maybe they think she’s cliquey? or she could have pushed people away. she’s like that one rihanna meme, them: you can’t just cut people off. ronnie: *holds a pair of scissors* she doesn’t have problem with letting people go. so maybe people think she’s a bitch because, “how could you just drop our five year long friendship like that.” and she’d just shrug. but really, she’s hurting beyond repair and will go home crying while eating a thing of ben & jerry’s chunky monkey. and there’s always that possibility where a friendship just didn’t work out. maybe they just stopped having time for each other and now it’s just mad awk. whatever it is, an enemy would b beaut.

as for LOVERS. veronica is a fucking cynic. love ain’t real and life is cold. she’d rather just be alone and happy than in a relationship and suffering. she sees so many people around her settle for less. (her mother being a prime example of that.) especially when she’s giving advice for friends. she doesn’t think people should be so easily manipulated by the concept of love. she knows there’s a difference between wanting someone and wanting to be with someone. and in her eyes, most people only settle for the sake of companionship. it’d be a hard mission to win this girl over. but not impossible. she’s definitely been on a few dates and had a couple of relationships. though most ended quickly due to the realization she only fell for their smooth talking and nothing more. 100% dabbles in the quick hook ups for the sake of fulfilling those needs. though, if the right person were to come along… she’d be loyal to them, completely devoted to just them.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

sooooo, my lazy ass actually found the power to make a RELATIONSHIPS PAGE. peep it, tell me what you think. if you can’t find something your muse fits, throw whatever ideas you have right at me! i’m so down for whatever.

MISCELLANEOUS

in a nutshell, she’s an angel with a halo unbalanced with horns, not a devil but not a saint either?? kind yet has a backbone. softer than what she seems like. humorous and witty though understanding. mistrusting but willing to let loyalty speak. veronica is a hot mess dealing with personal issues by lashing out on those around her. she’s loyal, but manipulative. opinionated, but easily offended. intelligent, but sometimes argumentative. she’s a bit of a feminist. trusts no bitch. but if you’re her friend, she’s chill as fuck. though, she’s a bit hesitant when it comes to making new friends. since she’s likes being a lame outcast. but really — she just doesn’t know how to process her good thoughts into words. she’s a barista and a tortured artist. she’s independent, hardworking, and determined. muse inspo for her: kat stratford (10 things i hate about you), samantha borgens (stuck in love), michelle (spider-man homecoming), and a hint of blair waldorf (gossip girl). anyways, give her girl scout cookies and she’ll love you til the end of time.

congratulations ! you made it to end ! if you read all of this… i love you. i only ever write so much bc… it gets me in character lmao. also, i wrote all of this the second i woke up. so don’t mind the grammar mistakes and what not. HENNYWAYS… i would really love to plot with everyone. so just slide into my DMs and we can get things started!! luv u *blows a kiss*

[geek-gem]

Describing Doom 2016 Characters In A Nutshell

Mainly based upon this meme describing characters. Also just took out Silly Ways to Funny Ways yet the first one seemed childish just A Nutshell makes a bit more sense. Anyway please understand what I meant when I make this. Including spoilers for Doom 2016.

Doomslayer.

1: Evil's worst nightmare.

2: He's just fucking done now. With all this demonic shit.

3: Give him any weapon or even let him use his God damn bare hands. He'll be able to kill 10 demons in a row with that same method or a mix of everything. Including the demon body count rises.

4: RIP AND TEAR TILL IT'S FUCKING DONE!

5: Seriously fought the demons of Hell for eons.

6: So hardcore that some sort of angel was so shocked they gifted him what the demons call terrible power and speed so he can wreck shit up even more. Including due to his actual incorruptible soul.

6: He fought a huge ass demon that the demons called their champion named the Titan and HE FUCKING WON. How the Hell did he do that.(Maybe the idea I thought did he go to it's heart and killed it or just fought it regularly) Yet holy fucking shit it's skull was huge.

7: Including after killing the Titan a actual demon named the Wretch who the demons called actually betrayed her kind and gave him a suit(the one you wear in the game) and even a sword and shield, but the suit takes the life out of demons basically making him unstoppable.

7: The demons couldn't fucking kill him that they had to trap him and put him in some cursed sleep. Even afterwards they worshipped him like a fucking God. To the point of making testaments about him.

8: Including the demons shit themselves and worked together when the UAC were close to him because they didn't want him awaked but he's up now.

9: But other then that despite his brutal nature. The guy hates seeing innocent people die, and wants to make sure Hell stops invading. Including just wants to kill all demons. Probably has a heart of gold.

10: A extra thing he likes rabbits.

Samuel Hayden.

1: A tall ass cyborg of a man who can't die now basically.

2: Has a powerful voice because the sound of it is like wow.

3: Seriously fucking thinks using enegry from Hell is a okay to live.

4: Including he's fucking delusional that seriously thinking people's lives are worth the risk.

5: He's gonna betray because you broke his shit and he's tired of your shit. Seriously he planned this from the start yet probably got more pissed because the way Doomslayer was acting.

6: He could have prevented all of this madness by taking care of Olivia. Yet he let 61337 die and he knew it was gonna happen.

7: Yet he still spews shit that all of this is for the betterment of mankind and worth the risk. Despite the loss of many men, women, and children (I need to know if any children we're on the Mars base). Including the demons of Hell would basically take advantage of this too to invade.

8: Even if he's helping you, you just wanna kick his ass hoping for that in the next game. Including the fact he seriously says he's not the villain of this story. Or that's his personal thoughts.

Olivia Pierce.

1: An older women one of Samuel's former protege now helper of demons.

2: Is tricked and believes in the ideal of a future with demons. Oh yeah like that would go well.

3: While not innocent at all. This idea that Samuel calls her weak at certain points. Including Samuel could have prevented this by taking action yet fucking assumed assumed she might overcome or just knew she would never overcome it.

To be serious it's this idea the way Samuel addresses that. Including the idea he could of made sure none of this could have gotten worse. Basically Samuel is worse while Olivia was tricked and sided with the demons. While Olivia's not a victim I'm sorry of me getting serious.

Vega.

1: An AI so fucking advanced that he runs most or all of the Mars UAC facility.

2: Just a AI helping, no personal goals maybe, and no siding with anyone. Basically just programmed to help give details.

3: Very polite and helpful you'll like him more the Samuel. Including doesn't spew bullshit of using Hell's enegry to help mankind.

4: Is given an actual age 50 years actually I'm surprised honestly.

5: Actually had regrets of some things he's done. Probably meaning by helping Samuel out and I forgot about that part or just didn't think of it much. Also allows and helps by opening a portal to help by scarificing himself.

6: Yet what amazes me that Doomslayer actually considers him a innocent life worth saving that he makes a back up of Vega and keeps it. Preventing Vega from basically being dying. Was gonna mention this for Doomslayer but decided not to a bit much yet says a bit about the Doomslayer as a character.

UAC Spokesperson.

1: Not a character or maybe whatever but basically in a nutshell what's wrong with normalizing working with Hell and shit. The fact when watching Markiplier it made me think now the way he reacted.

The Demons.

1: All Hail Satan.

2: Look at all these gruesome and narly mother fuckers. We have Imps, Hell Knights, Pinky's, Cacodemons, Revenants, Baron's Of Hell, the Cyberdemon, the Hell Guards, and the Spider Mastermind, and so much more. To strike fear into everyone.

3: But once the Doomslayer appears, they became fucking pussies mainly in their mindset, yet fucking try and some of them thinking they could even take him on when really it's suicidal at this point.

4: A funny idea I've had imagine if a lot of the demons are new demons that weren't around when the Doomslayer was killing demons. They seriously fucking think they can take him on and don't believe or care for the stories.

But it all goes to shit when they realize how fucked they are. That you almost pity them but laugh at them as well.

Well that was a bit long or it was supposed to be long. But was supposed to be more funnier. Including I went to this video and just wanted to see this part with the death count. Okay didn't need to scroll down but yeah the 2nd level. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t862gFWANVo

Including checking out Olivia and Vega on the Doom wiki for anything else. Got tags done but forgot to put the bosses when I was in the tags so put those there before started typing here. Hoped you enjoyed t.....my bro came in here singing what a man and just....he said dang I did it again after signing it more just anyway hoped to enjoyed this

[veryangryhedgehog]

“Cindy Miller’s Daemons, A monologue”, an Ede Valley story by Hedgehog

Cindy: You know how in kindergarten, how there’s free time and you’re playing with the cardboard blocks or whatever, and you can play with whoever you want because everyone’s friends? But then, by the start of first grade, everyone already has their groups? They’re not called “the preps”, or “the dorks”, or “the jocks” just yet, but they will be. And it’s really not fair to make someone so young choose who their going to be at such a young age. And they are choosing, because odds are, that you will be a part of that group until the end of high school. Probably longer. Because these people will change you. No, you will change yourself to please these people. Humans hate change, humans hate being alone. I didn’t want to be alone.

If the me from kindergarten met the me from fifth grade, or middle school, or high school, I don’t think she would recognize herself. In fifth grade, she begged her mom to buy her a training bra, even though she clearly didn’t need it, just because her friends were. In middle school, she laughed at other girls to make herself feel better about the fact that she no longer knew she was. In high school, she pushed herself past her limit with AP classes and track and student council and friends and parties and boys, because that’s what all of her friends were doing. She didn’t realize that she was killing herself. I didn’t realize that I was killing myself.

It all ended with chemistry. Doesn’t everything? Hopes, dreams, the essential composition of your very being. (laughs) I had insisted on taking it a year early because, say it with me now, all of the friends were. My councilor strongly advised against it, math and science had never been my forte, but did I listen? Of course not. Did I ask for help when I struggled? Of course not. Why would I? To ask for help would be to admit my own weakness.

So when the end of second semester drew near, I began panicking. A B-. I had a B-. I had never had a B- before ever. I was about to bid farewell to my 4.0. The only thing I could think of to do was suck it up and grovel to the teacher. And I did. I went back to his class after school had finished for the day and begged.

“You took this class too early,” he said. “You didn’t ask for help,” he said. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

I tried everything. Asked to retake quizzes, do extra credit. I’m ashamed to say that I even offered something that no one of my age should have. But there was simply nothing to be done.

And in that moment, I saw my future flash before my eyes. Goodbye 4.0, goodbye Harvard, goodbye Brown. In twenty years I’d be three-hundred pounds, married to a washed-up loser with five kids, and working at a gas station. But worst of all, I kept seeing the gloating faces of my friends at the inevitable class reunions, watching them with their handsome husbands, stylish clothes, and beautiful lives, and me, standing there wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten that B- in chemistry. To most people it might not seem like a big deal, and looking back on it now, it really wasn’t. But to sixteen-year-old Cynthia Miller? To her, that grade was the world.

I don’t remember much about my father, my mother finally got away from him when I was five, but from what I do know, he was... a rather violent person. I sometimes wonder how much of that I inherited, because the first thing I thought of to do was to grab the bottle of miscellaneous chemicals just sitting on a vacant lab table and smash it over his head.

The bottle, apparently, contained a unique set of substances that shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a high school classroom. How they got there, I’ll probably never know. But in that moment I wasn’t even thinking about anything like that. All I could do was stare, frozen, as my chemistry teacher’s face melted.

Soon, he was nothing more than a heap of blood and tissue lying on the floor. Later, I’d have nightmares about that, and I’d feel so much guilt and grief that I’d just want to die. But right then I was in shock, I guess, and panicking. The only thing I could think was that someone was going to realize that I was the last person who’d seen him alive and figure out what I’d done. Forget the gas station, I’d be in jail for the rest of my natural life. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know where to go, and I couldn’t look away. That was when I met the daemon.

“(Whistle) That’s quite a mess you’ve made there, young lady.” He was standing in the doorway, dressed like a janitor, though I had never seen him before in my life. I almost ran, but then he explained that he was apparently a daemon named Cowell, and that he wanted to make a deal with me. “I can give you the power to make this all go away, to give you that perfect life you’ve been dreaming of, but... I need something in exchange.”

“Like what? I’ll give you anything.”

“Hmm... I want... your subjectivity.”

“My what?”

“Your point of view. The rose-tinted glasses through which you view the world.”

“Fine. Sure, whatever. Just please help me.”

I didn’t know what that meant, and at the time I didn’t care. I was a fucking idiot. I’ve utterly certain about that, because now I can’t see it any other way.

We sealed the deal, and he handed me a book. “Liberis Decipis,” the cover read. “Book of the Deceived.” I think he thought it was ironic. He told me that he would come to collect his end of the bargain when I used the book, and with that, he was just gone without a word.

I ran out the door, away from school, and somehow made it home, the book tucked under my arm. I locked myself in my room, and began to read. It was very old, very large, and written by at least a dozen different hands, some in Latin, some in English, and some in a language that I didn’t even recognize. I also quickly discovered that it was a grimoire... full of spells. And not the kind of stuff you see in Harry Potter where you wave a wand and cool CGI effects happen. That’s all bullshit. Magic is not flashy, and it’s certainly not easy. No, this was the old kind of magic where you have to do a certain thing at a certain time of month when the planets are in the exact right alignment and you have to gather a bunch of insane ingredients and stick ‘em in a pot while chanting “Hail Satan.” Okay, maybe not that last part, but you get the idea.

I stayed up all night, desperately trying to find something that could help me, and eventually, I did. And best of all, I could do it in a few hours. But it was... very costly. It’s not that easy to make the whole world forget that a person ever existed. So, what have we learned today? That you can make a deal with a daemon and erasing your victim from existence with your newfound unholy powers? But it’s not that simple, is it?

As I walked to school the next day, I was terrified that the spell hadn’t worked, or that seeing the lump that had once been my chemistry teacher had driven me temporarily insane and I’d made the whole thing up. But I had nothing to worry about. There were no rumors, no police cars, even the door to his room had become a solid brick wall.

I spent most of the first half of the day in a daze, wondering if it had all been just a bad dream. Until lunch, that is. I had just sat down at my very full table, surrounded by friends, when I happened to look over to see a sickening familiar janitor waving and smirking over at me. I had completely forgotten about my end of the bargain. My subjectivity, he said he wanted. I barely knew the meaning of the word. Taking stock, I didn’t feel any different. I shook myself, turned back to my friends, and tried to forget about it.

Someone was talking about the new pair of shoes she had just bought, and everyone was gushing over them, but I had to struggle to pay attention. It was strange, I usually loved talking about clothes, and yet at that moment, it suddenly felt so inane and insignificant. Why did the shoes mean so much? She was just going to buy another pair in three weeks and forget all about them. And why did she need so many shoes in the first place? Three-quarters of them never got worn and most of the others hurt like hell to walk in.

And then, I looked around at the other girls, all my “friends”, and I wondered why we cared so much about what we looked like. What we thought of each other. And I realized that it didn’t even matter at all, because we were all so concerned with how we looked that we weren’t even paying attention to anyone else. So why did it matter?

All around me, I saw the exact same thing. No matter who they were, what group they belonged to, they were all so concerned about what others thought about them, that no one was really thinking about anyone else at all. They were all so petty, so... shallow. It was like I had spent my whole life with a mask over my faces—or a pair of rose-tinted glasses—and it had suddenly been lifted. My mouth dropped open as I understood what Cowell had taken from me. I could see the world as it truly was, and I couldn’t turn it off.

Distantly, someone was asking if I was feeling alright. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?”

“No, I’m—”

“She can’t do that, you idiot. If she went home then she’d have to miss track.”

“I... what? No, tha-that’s not important.”

“You must really not be feeling okay. State’s in like, a week, you know?”

I couldn’t believe it. All of the sudden I couldn’t understand why I had thought that track was so important. What had I even liked about it in the first place?

“Hey,” I asked. “Why do we do track again?”

The girls blinked at me. “What do you mean ‘why’? Uh, because it’s fun.”

“But what’s so fun about it? Cuz it sure as hell ain’t the running. Can you honestly tell me that you like being sore all the time?”

“Not really. But all of our friends do it.”

“Friends? I... I don’t even like any of you.” It was another realization, but to me it was clear as day. Just a fact. None of these girls and I really had anything in common. Some part of me had always found them petty and annoying, so why had I put up with them?

The table gasped, but I kept going. “So, what is it then? Why track? If it’s not the running, is it the winning then? But that’s just a plaque with your name on it that no one gives a shit about. Is it the personal accomplishment? Maybe for some people, but all we do is complain about it. So what is it then?”

“It looks good on a college application.”

I should have shut up then, should have laughed it all off like it was a big joke, but I couldn’t. My mouth kept moving, and I was powerless to stop it. “Oh, of course, college. That’s what I’m killing myself for, isn’t it? That’s why I’m taking three AP classes, heading student council, and running track, all so that I look good on paper, like I’ve had a “well-rounded” education, so that I can get into the best college, so that I can get a boring job that I don’t like, and have some kids with a man I’ve simply “settled for” because being alone is hard, and then die in eighty years.”

I stood up from the table. I felt sick. “What’s the point? What’s the fucking point? Can anyone tell me? Or are you all just too busy staring at the next carrot dangling in front of your noses to notice? The next step to fucking death! We’re all just bits of meat and bones that think for a little while and then die. Ashes in the fucking breeze. That’s all there is, isn’t there? There’s no point to any of this! There’s no... why are you all staring at me?”

Do I really think all of those things? I did at the time. I saw things as they really were in that cafeteria and assumed that the rest of the world was just the same. But after the police liaison dragged me away and pretty much forcibly locked me up in a psych ward for two months, I had a lot of time to think. And I saw a lot of things there. By the time I had gotten good enough at lying, at appearing normal, for them to let me out, I didn’t believe that everything was meaningless anymore.

See, it’s not that life is meaningless, it’s that most people settle for a life that doesn’t make them happy, not truly happy, just enough, and that makes it meaningless. Look at me talking. I know I’m a hypocrite. I haven’t done much of anything in the past year. But I think that, for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to become happy. I’m starting to find the me from kindergarten that I lost so many years ago, the person that I really am. And now that I’ve been at the lowest of the low, things can only get better from here, right?

[fictionfromgames]

2019 (Buffy/Angel Eden studios)

Lawrence Myers (January)

"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

The cameras never stopped, but years at the firm led to an impeccable public persona. It was a large part of how a two term representative got picked out as VP, but then again, a little help from the Senior Partners goes a long way. He gave a picture perfect smile to the judge, bigger than the tight control he normally displayed, but still just as false.

It would be a while before he got to a place of privacy, something that made him begin to clench his jaw after a while. The American people were desperately pathetic, constantly delaying anything worthwhile, and he needed to get out.

Lawrence smoothed his salt and pepper hair, the only gesture he allowed himself, and largely as a joke for the press. His assistant was hovering in the periphery, and there was nothing he’d rather be doing than delegating long-awaited tasks.

He gestured to Mallory; an hour in and it was far past time to get the hell out of there. No more shmoozing, no more firing up the very amenable base. It was time.

“Sir, we’ve got a meet-and-greet in Virginia next--” Mallory began.

“Stop and listen,” President Myers said, his genial mask slipping into the authoritative annoyance he’d honed so well, “Call my guys at Homeland Security and ICE. I want all funding to IDRS halted and deferred to them.”

“Of course,” his assistant knew better than to respond with hesitation or confusion, “We’ll work up a press release too.”

“America solves its own problems, we don’t need INTERPOL junior here doing whatever the fuck they want,” he declared, “I don’t care who it needs to go through, we’ll start with an executive order if I have to.” “Absolutely,” Mallory complied, writing everything down, “And about the rally--”

“Fucking rallies,” his brow creased, conjuring up the lines in his brow that should have been deeper at 50, “That horseshit needs to be cut in half if we’re gonna get anything done this year.”

“Of course.”

A New, Confused Hope (March)

The tones of the aggravating electric chime rang again. Probably some lookie-loo or new witch seeking locally grown sage. Luckily, it does well enough in pots, so Logan always had a supply for the newly witchy.

He sniffed. Among the incenses and minty goodness of the growing sage, he caught a distinct eau de troll, and... “Hey, Aszea, try not to get vamp dust everywhere,” he called out without looking to the front of the shop.

“Logan, is Janis in? We have a kind of a situation,” the giant woman responded.

The way Aszea said situation made his ears perk, and probably would have without extra sensitive hearing. He placed his book down and made his way to the front, and was a little surprised that there were two people, and that the young woman with the troll was actually the one who smelled of dead vampires.

“Wwwwwwwhat?” Logan looked confused.

“So this is Emily.” Aszea put a hand softly on the girl’s shoulders, “She’s a sophomore at the catholic school, and she just killed like, three vampires.”

“Wait, really?” Logan moved around the counter, “That sounds like Slayer stuff, but--” “Right, she had a little assistance,” Aszea looked indignant, “But I told her about the Augury, and that we may be able to help her learn about what’s going on, and that, while it’s weird to have adult friends...”

“Having adult employers would be a good cover for a new Potential,” Logan knew immediately. He realized he’d carried a crystal ball out from stock, and set it down on an empty stand. “Twenty hours a week of magical supervision, little to no suspicion.”

“Twenty paid hours,” Aszea pointed out.

“Can you help me?” the girl’s eyes finally flickered up from her thousand yard stare. She was still in shock over what had happened, and Logan felt all the deeply bittersweet memories of watching someone learn some truth about the world lean a little more bitter when they locked eyes.

“Of course,” he said as softly as he could, “Just let me text the boss lady.”

Bad Actors (September)

“Well, shit!” Janis cursed, double-checking her phone.

“More amateur mages mucking up the mojo?” Logan asked, leaning over the counter.

“No, this was a test,” Janis held a finger in the air, “Someone is doing this on purpose, poisoning the well, and Iiiiiiiiii...”

Her face fell as she knew she’d have to admit something.

“Don’t know what to do about it?” Logan cut into her thought break.

“Yes, thanks, I was going to say that,” Janis twisted her mouth up, “Did you find the sleep daught?”

“Yeah, but I gotta skip it, Asz said there’s an inordinate amount of undead lately so I’ll be off the leash,” he said without looking at her.

“Any better at it? Can’t have you biting our only Slayer ally,” Janis crossed her arms, partly to glower and mostly to stop staring into her phone.

“I’ll tell you when you figure out what’s going on with the Tumblr coven.”

It was often tempting to throw annoying hexes at Logan, but ever since Myers ascended to the presidency, everything had been looking worse for the magical community, and she couldn’t afford to piss off any allies, even her werewolf store clerk.

“Who’d have thought I’d be curious as to where Phil went since January, huh?” she brushed a lock of hair out of her face, a small act of control in her increasingly chaotic life.

All Saints’ Order (November)

Brian raised his hands in victory. The molotov had crashed through the heathen storefront, and a small fire began taking hold inside. The Augury would be cleansed from his city.

Around him, his brothers cheered, hoisting their various weapons into the air, yells of “Hail Myers!” amongst the more enthusiastic wordlessness. They’d save their country, he knew, they’d start the next crusade, they’d burn--

Janis ended the spell.

“What’s happening?” Emily spoke up.

“We’re minus one shop and plus one openly fascistic anti-magic movement,” Janis responded flatly.

“Fuck,” was Aszea’s whole contribution the conversation.

*****************

So the last post was a couple years ago, and I’ve been watching a lot of Buffy, so here’s some setting update.

Lawrence Myers, 46th president of the United States, was a lawyer at a little firm known as Wolfram & Hart, and spent two terms as a representative for the state of Nevada before being courted, seemingly at random, as VP. When a very unexpected death opened up a vacancy in the White House, his administration fed on the zeitgeist of right wing American concerns and interests: a desire for law and order, fed by a covert program that produced chaos in the form of systematically sired mobs of vampires; fear and revulsion at the statistics of religion, that “witch” was now outpacing the growth of more “traditional” religious tendencies (see: christian denominations); and retaliation, essentially encouraged by the White House with its failure to criticize vigilante actions against apparently “satanic” sorts, such as middle class store owners or their working class superpowered/strange employees. Meanwhile, already prestigious or successful warlocks and demonic allies remained untouched by the ignorant sycophants.

Janis Morad, witch, demonologist, former entrepreneur. “Technopagan” is a term of the past, largely discarded in favor just plain ole witch, and Janis made her first sales online when Certain Social Websites started making witchcraft aesthetic. Using mundane practitioners to fund her own actual magickal ventures, she was largely able to fly under the radar until the All Saints’ executive order, which was supposed to fund governmental policing of Weird Stuff, but also just kind of invigorated an irate and clueless portion of the populace.

Logan Benson, werewolf. He was bit shortly before going to work with Janis, and has been pacified in his wolf phases by Janis’ alchemical experimentations. He’s been more and more eager to help out Aszea on nights as she seems immune to lycanthropy and is both tough and regenerative enough to survive the more mundane mauling that happened when he and the troll first met.

Emily Szymanski, Slayer. She’s mostly around because I had an idea that I liked-- that the Slayer Potential awakening spell was for extant Slayer Potentials when it was cast, not every one of them since. That being the case (how generous of me to myself), beginning in 2018 or later is the perfect time-- as Potentials come into age fifteen years later, we could be seeing one brand new Slayer for every one that has died since s7 of Buffy. This opens things up to a classic high school Slayer experience that we’re familiar with, while also still seeing a few “grizzled” vets in their mid to late twenties. I tend to assume “The life of a Slayer is brutally short,” but you don’t have to.

Generally speaking, she’s timid, I envisioned her as a nerdy Slayer, which will be fleshed out and statted when I get to it.

Aszea, troll. She was transformed from her assigned gender at birth through a wish-- one that she did not word carefully enough despite assuming she’d been quite particular. She wished to be a woman, but not specifically a human woman, and whoops. Now she mostly patrols and is the big muscle of the group.

Beyond this post, it’ll be set concurrent to whenever I’m writing, which is why I wanted to jump past all the time I didn’t include since the first two posts. Characters will have character sheets whenever they get their own story.

[lestatslestits]

i vaguely remember a thing crowley did involving phones ... what else 'evil' tricks did he get up to while waiting for apocalypse stuff to happen?

((In which evil is in the eye of the beholder, or in which Crowley has some shocking revelations about his motivations. Pre-slash.

Thanks to @pen-in-hand-mb for letting me bounce ideas off of her, and for helping to think up some of Crowley’s antics.))

The cemetery was dark and cold and for once Crowley was early. Drumming his fingers idly against a tombstone, he glanced around for any sign of Hastur and Ligur, the two demons with which he was meant to be corresponding.

Just outside the cemetery gate, his Bentley was idling, waiting patiently for the first possible moment of escape.

Checking his watch, Crowley realized why he did not make a habit of being on time for his meetings with Hastur and Ligur.

The waiting period was hell.

He fidgeted. It wasn’t that he was nervous, per say, it was simply that there tended to be nearly insurmountable creative differences between Dukes of Hell and, for instance, the sort of demon who might drive a vintage Bentley, appear to wear snakeskin shoes, and dedicate a corner of his flat to keeping a series of increasingly anxious plants alive. Crowley was never any good at family reunions.

A noise from behind made him jump. He managed to resume a neutral expression just as Hastur and Ligur rounded the corner of a sizable monument nearby.

“All hail Satan,” Ligur said, spotting Crowley.

“All hail Satan,” Hastur echoed.

“Ditto,” Crowley replied, nodding.

Hastur scowled. Not that it did much to change the expression on his face.

“Everything soldiering on below?” Crowley asked, rather brightly.

“Below is not the point of this meeting.”

“The point?” Crowley scratched at a place behind his ear. “Alright then. Let’s get on with it, shall we? I haven’t got all night.” Hell’s particular brand of accountability made him twitchy.

“Right,” Ligur said, cracking his knuckles. Of all the joys of corporation, joint cracking must have been foremost on Ligur’s list, judging by his endless pursuit of the form. Crowley chewed thoughtfully on his own lower lip as he waited for the full report.

“I have made a man believe that a dalliance with his wife’s sister will not be discovered. Within two years he will be ours.”

“And you?”

“I have put doubt into the mind of a devout man. Within a year he will be a shadow of his former self. And you, Crowley?”

Crowley smiled winningly at them. “An especially good one today,” he said. “Convinced another three celebrities to write tell-all memoirs.”

Hastur and Ligur blinked at him like two very confused oafs eyeing a particularly difficult maths problem. This was only half accurate. Crowley avoided maths.

“What good is that?” Hastur demanded finally, after a quick glance at Ligur to assure himself that the other demon was equally perplexed.

Crowley frowned at them. “What good? Millions of people will lose their spotless heroes when those books hit the shelves. And millions more, shopkeepers, will have to look at those smug faces, trying to remind the world of when they used to mean something.” Well, he could think of one shopkeeper who wouldn’t. He recalled the look of horror on Aziraphale’s face at the prospect, and felt the corners of his mouth turn up in an involuntary smile.

“That’s not real evil,” Ligur said finally. “Not of our stock, at any rate. ‘Ave you got anything else?”

“Of course,” scoffed Crowley, who prided himself on his ability to multitask. “What do you think of shops that only play elevator music.”

It had been a good idea. Aziraphale became unusually suspicious upon hearing it, and Crowley spotted him checking his vintage record collection with increased frequency, lest the albums go the route of cassettes left in the Bentley, but with a muted saxophone line instead of Freddie Mercury’s falsetto. Crowley laughed at Aziraphale’s fears over a glass of the angel’s rather good wine, of which he seemed to never run out.

Seeing the look of continued nonplussed irritation on the faces of the other demons, he chuckled cautiously. “I suppose you had to be there.”

“Crowley,” Hastur said, leaning in conspiratorially as though to tell a secret or offer advice. “You’re going to have to do better than that. What happened to the demon I remember from Eden? You did good work back then. Proper work.”

“Books with movie posters on the cover!” Crowley retorted.

Hastur huffed a sigh and rubbed at his temple. “Come on, Crawly. Real, proper evil. Surely you’ve got something.”

Aziraphale had thought the movie poster ploy to be among his most impressively devious schemes. Hastur seemed to have slightly different standards.

“Alright, alright,” Crowley held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll tell you about one of my most impressive projects. I’m really playing the long game here. It’s taken years of work.”

“Out with it, then,” Ligur growled.

“Have you ever wondered why everyone calls the MONSTER 'Frankenstein’ instead of the scientist?”

Hastur and Ligur, who had briefly perked up at the word “monster,” deflated almost instantly. Seeing this, Crowley forged on ahead in an attempt to explain his reasoning. “Listen, boys. You’ve got to think about the engineering here. Every film. Every minuscule reference. Hell, every textbook I can get my hands on. It’s been bloody difficult, okay?”

But worth it, he thought, to see the delightful little cringe on Aziraphale’s face every time someone failed to properly identify Mary Shelley’s creature. Almost any effort was worth the benefit of gently teasing Aziraphale. It was a delightful hobby.

More than a hobby, in fact, he thought suddenly. There was nothing in his report to hell which didn’t serve the greater purpose of showing off to the angel.

Crowley felt his face begin to flush slightly at the dawning realization. He hoped the Dukes of Hell did not notice. Thankfully, they seemed too busy being absolutely disgusted with him for other reasons.

“You’ll be bringing down our averages again, Crowley,” Ligur warned.

Crowley found he did not care what sort of infernal maths went into documenting Hell’s productivity and risk assessments, but that he did care about getting out from underneath its most dogged actuaries.

They made him squirm.

“Alright. Sorry. Listen. One more for the road, then. My car’s been running this whole time. Burning away the firmament as we speak. Viciously, and with malice of forethought, tearing it to pieces. Does that help?”

He liked to keep the bar set low. Life was easier when Hell didn’t expect much from him.

Hastur and Ligur exchanged glances and grudgingly acknowledged this as Crowley’s most diabolical act in the past several weeks. “Fine,” Ligur grumbled. “We’ll add it to the report. But see you do better next time, Crowley.”

“Right. Sure. Of course.”

In point of fact, he already had some pretty vicious ideas about library cataloguing systems.

“Ta,” he said to Hastur and Ligur, and headed for the Bentley as quickly as it was possible to do while still appearing casual and not-at-all unsettled.

The radio was playing “Under Pressure” softly and Aziraphale was frowning at it.

“This was supposed to be Bach,” he fretted.

“It’s close enough,” Crowley said, smiling as he folded himself into the driver’s seat. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Angel. Fortunately, I made our dinner reservation for 'precisely when we feel like arriving.’” It was a standing reservation, and he never had to make any phone calls to procure it. It was also his favorite time to dine.

“Don’t worry, My Dear. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Excellent,” Crowley nodded. And then, “Angel, how do you feel about passages of text underlined in ink?”

Aziraphale shuddered. Crowley only smiled.

[hekate1308]

Lost & Found

It's one thing, stumbling across Crowley as a homeless man. It's another to realize he has no idea who Dean is. 12x23 fix-it

I don’t think I’ll ever be done with these. Enjoy!

His first thought isn’t even Oh God or How? but Of course Crowley has to be fancy even as a homeless guy, because that is what his life ultimately boils down to. If he freaked out over every weird stuff he’s confronted with, he’d probably have a heart attack within an hour.

So the former king of hell sitting on a park bench and reading Robert Burns’ poems while his belongings are neatly packed away in two Armani backpacks next to him is no big deal.

“I’ll give you that, it’s a good cover” he says, stepping up to him.

No disgruntled demon would look for Crowley out on the streets of all places.

A small part of him feels annoyed that he hasn’t even thought it necessary to let them know he was alive, let alone that he’s back. Sure, they didn’t exactly part as the best of friends, but in his own small way, he even grieved for the guy. And continued to, after they dealt with Satan Jr. and Cas was resurrected once more, grieved through the whole year it took him to find Crowley here on a nondescript park bench in a nondescript park of a nondescript town.

The reaction he gets astounds him. Faster than he can blink, Crowley has put his book away, grabbed his two backpacks and stood up, saying tiredly, “Don’t worry, officer, I’m on my way”.

He waits. Waits to be hailed as “Squirrel” and thoroughly laughed at because of the face he’s certainly making right now, for the self-assure demon he knows to come through, but it doesn’t happen.

Instead, Crowley starts walking away.

“Wait!”

He rushed after him and grabs his biceps.

He flinches.

“Crowley?”

He turns around.

There’s absolutely no recognition in his eyes, and Dean almost can’t hide his shock when he realizes.

Crowley has no idea who he is.

“I told you, I’m on my way. I have no wish to get into trouble – “

“You’re not in trouble. Crowley, it’s me – Dean Winchester – “

“Crowley? Is that my name?” he asks so innocently Dean has to take a moment to breathe.

“Yes. It is.”

There’s something like hope in his eyes, now.

“You know me?”

“Better than anyone, I’d imagine”.

At least anyone alive right now. He doesn’t mention that detail.

“So we’re... friends?”

“Besties, actually” that same voice says loud and clearly in Dean’s head, so very confident and at ease, the complete opposite of the – man? standing in front of him.

“Yes. Yes we are. You disappeared a while back. We –“ he stops, realizing Crowley has no idea who “we” are.  

“Me and my brother and our best friend” he finally continues, “we were all worried about you”.

Well, less worried and more... kind of sorry no red-eyed dick was going to drop in anymore to annoy them. They even went so far to tell his story on hunter get-togethers, so that he wouldn’t be entirely forgotten.

How ironic. The only one who has forgotten all about him is Crowley himself.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me – “

“That’s quite alright. I haven’t got anything to lose either”.

Well if that’s not freaking depressing.

“So you’ll come with me?” he asks, somewhat astonished at how eager he is to have them all together again. “We’re working a case in this town, so it’s only a motel room for now, but you’re welcome to stay with us if you’d like”.

He hasn’t cleared it with Sam or Cas yet, but I can’t imagine them turning their... somewhat-ally away in his condition.

“Better than on the street” Crowley decides and Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

He sends a quick text to Sam, who’s been visiting the morgue with Cas – Found Crowley. Ask no questions; he has no idea who he is. Amnesia or something. Just get a bottle of holy water ready.

“You said case... did we work together?” Crowley asks (so freaking innocently).

“Now and then, yeah” Dean says truthfully.

They did after all hunt Lucifer’s hell hound together... that must count for something, right?

Oh God, he suddenly realizes, Juliet. Damn dog has been hanging around the bunker since a few weeks after Crowley’s death, when she just showed up out of the blue; each of them had an angel blade in hand in turn and couldn’t bring himself to do her in.

She’s going to flip out and Crowley will be thrown down on the floor by an invisible mutt slobbering all over him.

First things first: get him to a motel.

“Can’t be the feds” Crowley said suddenly. “Someone would have come looking for me then”.

He sounds so resigned Dean can’t take it.

“We thought you were dead. That’s why we didn’t search for you. Something... went wrong on a case”.

Crowley actually looks pleased.

Dean doesn’t stop to think whether he would have looked for him, because...

Well, because the answer would probably be an all too enthusiastic “Of course”.

Sam and Cas have readied themselves for the sight that awaits them and don’t even jump when Crowley walks into the motel room in front of Dean.

“Crowley” they say almost at the same time.

“This is my brother Sam, and this is our friend Cas”.

Crowley nods before drawling, “Sorry, boys, no idea who you are”.

That... almost sounds like the old him.

“I’m thirsty. You want some water too?” Dean asks casually.

He nods and he goes to the fridge.

Sam has left two bottles of holy water to cool, and while it’s thrown away on Dean, that’s a prize he’s ready to pay.

“Here” he passes him a bottle, and, as he expected, Crowley waits for him to take a drink before he does the same.

No reaction.

He came back as human as Cas, then.

That settles that.

“Look” he says once they’ve all sat down at the small table, “I know this will sound insane...”

“You have no idea” Crowley mumbles.

“Trust me, I do. Okay, there’s no way to sugarcoat this. I told you we were on a case... a supernatural one. Because almost everything you can think of – ghosts, monsters, et cetera – they’re real. And we hunt them”.

He thought he was prepared for every answer Crowley could think of, but he’s still shocked when he reacts with, “Do some of them have black eyes?”

“Yeah” Sam says, “how do you –“

“I see them from time to time. I try to get away; they attack me when they realize I’m there”.

His expression tells Dean there was more than one close call involved.

“Yeah. Those are demons”.

Again, not a single sign of recognition, not even the smallest suspicion he could ever have been one of them.

“Did they say anything?” Cas asks. “Before they attacked you?”

Crowley shrugs. “They mostly sprouted a lot of nonsense... about taking revenge or stuff like that. Of course this explains it.”

He waves a hand towards all of them.

Right. He thinks they were colleagues.

They could tell him the truth... but frankly, what would be the point? He’s already had it hard enough during the last year, and he did sacrifice himself for them.

Alright, also to get rid of Lucifer, but still.

Neither Sam nor Cas make any attempt to tell him.

Okay then.

And two days later, after they’ve solved the case (Crowley doing a pretty good job of manning the phones in the meantime) they’re on the way back to the bunker, and Dean is surprised just how complete the team feels with the former demon in the backseat.

They’ve warned him about Juliet (he seems to think she’s just their team’s pet) so he reacts pretty well when she jumps at him, barking excitedly.

“Guess she missed you” Dean says calmly.

And then they have Crowley living with them, and the goddamn guy seems so freaking comfortable.

It’s annoying Dean to no end because, if anything, he finally wants his make-shift family to be honest with one another, but how can they be when the truth would probably freak him so badly he might not recover?

What’s frustrating him the most is how obvious it must all seem to Crowley. They recognized him and took him in immediately, so they must be his pals, right? And because he’s been around since the First Apocalypse that never was, all their stories make it seem like he hung out with them all the time, and because they were on cases then, cases they can’t help but mention, and he’s got pretty good fighting skills, he must be a hunter in his mind.

See? Freaking obvious.

Naturally the thought of being anything else but human never occurred to him. Why would it?

There are a few things they have to tell him, though; he takes the news of his mother’s and son’s death pretty well, probably because why he understands what it means, there is no single remembrance he can connect with either of them.

Instead, it can be said that he grows more and more attached to them all, in exactly the way it happens when you become friends with someone.

And goddamn it – they like him to, alright?

The last thing Dean would have imagined, from his brief problem with human blood, would have been that Crowley could end up not only a decent man, but a pretty good one.

He’s just – he’s nice and kind and friendly all the time, exactly what you’d expect from a homeless guy who suddenly finds himself surrounded by friends with a room of his own.

Even Jody has to admit that, and he almost killed her some years ago.

As soon as she hears Crowley’s back, she comes rushing, only to stand absolutely still and stare at the ex-king of hell who’s leaving it up to her whether she wants tea or coffee, and oh, would she like something to eat with that? He’s sure he can scrounge up something for her –

“Oh God” she mumbles after he disappears into the kitchen, “how do you deal with those puppy dog eyes?”

“I’m in training, think of Sam”.

“Is he like that all the time?”

“Yep. Best roommate I ever had. And I’m living with an actual used-to-be-an-angel these days”.

“And he has no idea?”

“None. And to be honest, none of us can bring themselves to tell him. He’s so freaking happy here, Jody”.

“I can see that”.

She sighs.

“Alright then, looks like your “Team Free Will” got another member”.

It does indeed. Crowley is a pretty good fighter, and some of that demon knowledge he had must still be flying around in his head, because he finds lore incredibly quickly.

So, yeah, things are... good.

For a while.

Until... Dean can’t really explain it, but he knows Crowley isn’t happy anymore. He’s always slinking around in the shadows, suddenly, and Dean could swear he hears him walking around at night when before he had no trouble sleeping through.

One night, Dean has enough and catches him just as he’s about to go to the library.

And if those are not the eyes of a haunted man, Dean has never looked into a mirror.

“You remember”.

It’s not a question.

Crowley nods.

“A few weeks now”.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You want to know the truth, Squirrel?” he asks tiredly.

“Because the past you allowed me to believe in was far more pleasant”.

“It was, wasn’t it.”

Juliet comes up to them, invisible to every inhabitant of the bunker now.

“You wouldn’t have your doggie then, though”.

Crowley actually chuckles.

“I guess”.

After a pause, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No”.

He can say that with conviction. None of them would feel comfortable, just sending their – friend out into the world.

Crowley nods.

“You’ll still bake pies, right?” Dean asks hopefully. It’s one of the talents he definitely didn’t expect Crowley to have.

He groans.

“Fine, Squirrel, but only if you make burgers.”

“I can do that. Now, come on; we both need a night cap”.

[ruminativerabbi]

How the Light Gets In

Some people first heard the late Leonard Cohen’s song “Anthem” while listening to his 1992 album, The Future. Others, probably way more, were first exposed to its haunting melody in Oliver Stone’s 1994 controversial (but also terrific) movie, Natural Born Killers, starring Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis. (For a terrific clip of the great man singing his great song, click here.) All the song’s lyrics are eerily compelling, but most stuck of all in my head is the chorus: “There’s a crack, a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

For some reason the sound of that voice (truly like none other) singing those words has been in my head for the last few weeks.

Other than the day of Thanksgiving itself, which I spent surrounded by family and the house was filled with music and light, it’s been a dismal few weeks featuring a world-wide surge in anti-Semitic incidents and a parallel, and public, diminution of sensitivity to the legacy of Shoah that feels, at least to me, unprecedented.  The vicious verbal and on-line abuse leveled at Auschwitz survivor and Italian senator-for-life Liliana Segre because she dared call for the creation of a parliamentary committee devoted solely combatting hatred, racism, and anti-Semitism was shocking. (Click here for more details.)  A recent campus-wide surge in racist and anti-Semitic incidents at Syracuse University was so intense that the university was obliged to take the unprecedented step of suspending the social activities of all fraternities through the end of the semester. (Click here for the fuller story.) Reports of intense anti-Semitism, only sometimes dressed up as anti-Israelism to make it appear marginally less odious, in places once known as bastions of civility and learning—places like Vassar College, Duke University (where the level of anti-Semitism on campus has actually provoked an inquiry at the federal level by the U.S. Department of Education), the University of Toronto, Brown University, the University of Illinois Urbana-Champagne, the University of Virginia, San Francisco State University, and Columbia University (where the openly and unapologetically anti-Semitic Prime Minister of Malaysia, Mahathir Mohamad, was greeted with a world leader’s welcome just two months ago)—have only added to my general sense of discomfort and ill ease. If you’re not depressed enough, click here to read a round-up report of the latest anti-Semitic incidents in Poland. And here to read a similar survey of incidents in Hungary. There was a time when the ADL survey released two weeks ago according to which a full quarter of Europeans harbor strongly negative attitudes towards Jewish people would have shocked me to the core. Now it just seems like more bad news. (Click here for the full story, complete with depressing specifics.) Oh, and a white supremacist skinhead named Richard Holzer was charged just last week in Denver federal court with plotting to blow up a synagogue in Pueblo, Colorado. (He pled not guilty.)

Given the gravity of the above, the kerfuffle over Amazon selling Christmas tree ornaments depicting various images of Auschwitz seems almost amusing. (And, no, I did not make that up. Click here.)

And yet, despite it all, there are also cracks through which light has lately been seeping in a bit and making the world feel at least marginally less dark, less anxiety-provoking, and less bad. So I thought this week I would focus on the cracks and the light, and invite you all to join me in looking away from the darkness for at least a few minutes. Trust me, it won’t take that long.

In Malmö, Sweden, a city whose Jewish citizens haven’t felt safe or secure for a very long time, an imam—and, at that, the founder of the city’s Academy of Islam—attended a public commemoration of Kristallnacht. It is amazing that this was considered an amazing gesture. But given the intense level of anti-Semitism in that place, his gesture was hailed not only as welcome and overdue, but truly as brave. So that certainly qualifies as a ray of light.

At the United Nations, an organization of which I couldn’t possibly think less, the annual round of Israel-bashing resolutions produced an unexpected ray of light—or, more precisely, thirteen of them when thirteen nations that have previously merely abstained when the same resolution was introduced in past years—Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, Bulgaria, Denmark, Estonia, Greece, Lithuania, Netherlands, Romania, Slovakia, Brazil and Colombia—actually found the courage to vote against one of the General Assembly’s more egregious efforts to condemn Israel for the world’s woes. Of course, there will be nineteen (not a typo) other bills introduced in the General Assembly condemning Israel this year…but at least in this one instance thirteen countries behaved decently and reasonably. (In the final vote, fifty-four nations still abstained, just twenty-three (including the countries listed above) voted against the measure, and eighty-seven supported it. So there wasn’t much light, just some. But sometimes a single ray of light is comfort enough when the alternative would be pitch darkness, which is what I believe all rational people have come over the years to expect from the United Nations.

In France, where I was counselled against daring to walk down the street wearing a kippah just two years ago, the National Assembly (i.e., the lower house of the French parliament) voted to approve the draft of a resolution that formally acknowledges hatred of Israel as a form of anti-Semitism and which calls upon the French government to join other European nations in adopting the definition of anti-Semitism of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance. (That definition is an interesting document to consider in its own right: click here.) And that too constitutes a ray of light.

In the U.K., where Chief Orthodox Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis took the unprecedented step a few weeks ago of issuing a statement calling the Labour Party out on its apparently endemic anti-Semitism, that party’s leader Jeremy Corbyn—who has been accused widely and repeatedly of himself harboring deeply offensive anti-Semitic attitudes—actually apologized for the anti-Semitism in its ranks. Yes, he did so only after being prodded repeatedly by a persistent reporter. And, yes, he followed up his remarks by pointing out that other parties—he specifically mentioned the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats—have had to deal with anti-Semitism in their ranks as well. But, at the very least, the man went on record as decrying the scandal that at times has engulfed his election campaign—the elections in the U.K. are scheduled for December 12—and saying, at least formally, that he considers anti-Semitism to be an unacceptable form of racism. And that counts as a ray of light too. Sort of.

And, speaking of England, there was the incident on the subway the other day that could reasonably go into the light and the darkness columns, but in which I prefer to see the light. A visibly Jewish man and his children were taking the Underground on their way somewhere when a man came up to them and started hurling anti-Semitic abuse at them and accusing them of worshiping in the synagogue of Satan. (The history of that expression, which appears twice in the New Testament in the Book of Revelation, is more complicated that it might at first sound. But that the man on the tube meant it as a nasty slur against Jewish people goes without saying.) So that’s the bad part of the story. But then Asma Shuweikh, a visibly Muslim woman wearing a head scarf, stood up and defended the Jewish children against whom the man was so openly and so viciously venting his spleen. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose. (If the man doesn’t like Jews, he almost certainly also doesn’t like Muslims.) But she saw an open act of bigotry directed against innocents and instead of looking away, she stood up for the victims. It was a minor incident—you can actually see most of it on youtube by clicking here—but we’re talking this week about cracks that let in light. And this surely was a crack through which, albeit briefly, light shone. And that counts too.

Sticking with the U.K. for a moment longer, the Anglican Church issued a momentous report just last week—one that took three years to research and compose—in which it acknowledged, finally, that centuries of Christian anti-Judaism in Europe helped create the atmosphere that made the perpetration of the crimes of the Nazis during the Shoah years possible. Nor does the report focus solely on the past, noting specifically that “some of the approaches and language used by pro-Palestinian advocates are…reminiscent of what could be called traditional anti-Semitism.” Will the average Brit read this report and take its message to heart? Probably not. But the average pastor preaching in church week in and week out—and coming over and over to the question of whether Judaism remains a legitimate religion in today’s world or if Jews by clinging to their ancient faith are actually thwarting the possibility of redemption—will read it and, I hope, feel chastened by its various implications. And that too counts as a ray of light in a world awash in dark, menacing tides.

I am not a Pollyanna in any sense of the word. If anything, I’m a pessimistic realist when it comes to considering the future of the Jewish people in the various lands of our dispersion. And yet, even despite my general tendency to expect the worst from the world (and my sense that anyone who knows anything about Jewish history could hardly think otherwise), I find myself circling back around to Leonard Cohen’s line and, eager to see the light that the cracks let in, feeling slightly better about things and at least slightly more hopeful.

It’s been a brutal few months. There is no particular reason to expect things to get better any time soon. And yet, “the wars they will be fought again / The holy dove, she will be caught again / Bought and sold and bought again / The dove is never free. / Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering. / There is a crack, a crack in everything. / That’s how the light gets in.”

[xavierfiles-blog]

Entry 075 - Doop

Art by Mike and Laura Allred

Name: Doop

Code Names: Doop

First Appearance: X-Force #116 (July ’01)

Powers: Is there anything he can’t do?

Teams Affiliation: X-Force, X-Men

About

Comics are weird. No, weird isn’t a descriptive enough word. Some comics are gritty, straightforward, planted firmly in reality. Some are epic tales of gods, monsters, swords and sorcery. Others are vibrant sci-fi adventures with roguish heroes and dastardly villains. Others still are stories of hope, the importance of a single man who decides to make a difference in the world. What shared universe superhero comics allow is the synthesis, the blending of these ideas into one world. In that world, Grant Morrison can relaunch X-Men as a sensible subculture of mutants protecting a world much like our own. And at the same time, in the same franchise, in the same line, you can have Peter Milligan and Mike Allred introduce their pop art skewering of reality TV celebrity culture. This bizarre, paradoxical world is the only place Doop could exist, and we are all better for it.

You might need this

No one is quite sure where Doop came from. Some say he was created by the US government at the height of the Cold War to combat the Communist menace. Others say acclaimed Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman drew in the margins of his script for The Seventh Seal and he was willed into being. The exact mechanism of his creation didn’t much matter, Doop simply was. He left home at a young age to practice his art, documentary filmmaking and was met with critical acclaim. He took many lovers, saying both male and female would be too restrictive for Doop, and met many friends, including a close bond with Wolverine, but he wasn’t fulfilled. He therapist encouraged him to broaden his horizons past the arty, European documentaries he was making and set his sights on Hollywood.

Art by Federico Santagati and Laura Allred

After a messy affair on a casting couch, Doop got a job documenting the adventures of the new X-Force. It was a cultural sensation. The team showed what happens when superheroes stop being polite and start getting real, and audiences ate it up. Merchandise adorned with Doop’s image flew off the shelves. Doop plushies were the hot toy at Christmas. As long as Doop kept the camera rolling, his residuals kept rolling in too. Doop was there recording everything when X-Force shocked the world. An attempt to save the pop group Boyz R Us went south and Doop, U-Go Girl, and the rookie Anarchist were the only surviving members of the team.

Art by Mike and Laura Allred

Doop stayed behind the camera to chronical the misadventures of this new team. He was drawn into the action when he popped a pimple on his head that sucked the members of X-Force into the mind of Doop. He dove into the cavity in his own body to rescue his cash cows from the nightmares that lurked in the mind of Doop. The mind of Doop is hard to put into words. It is absurdist, post-modern, cartoony and it is both all and none of those things at the same time. It was truly a world unlike any other.

Art by Mike and Laura Allred

Doop continued his filming as X-Force became X-Statix. He opened Doop Kiddies Hospital and got rid of the bodies that X-Statix happened to accumulate. He teamed up with his old buddy Wolverine to go on a noir caper and added drama to X-Statix by leaking an incriminating tape featuring El Guapo. Russian terrorist captured Doop and used his brain attack X-Statix. This drew the attention of The Avengers whose intervention caused pieces of the mind of Doop to be spread across the globe. Doop survived thanks to the backup brain in his butt and X-Statix battled the Avengers for the pieces of his brain. Doop himself got in on the action, battling Thor to a standstill. X-Statix restored their friend but the team decided to close up shop. Some say they were killed in a hail of gunfire, others say they simply retreated into the margins to be forgotten. Whatever the case, the X-Statix were no more.

Art by Mike and Laura Allred

Polaris claimed to see a creature who looked like Doop. A creature known as Daap who never spoke a word, but it was a difficult thing to verify. When the island nation of Utopia was formed, Wolverine dreamed that his lost friend oversaw enforcement the law. Or perhaps Doop dreamed of that dream. Regardless, Wolverine enlisted Doop to work at the Jean Grey School. The faculty often questioned his role there, as well as his subversive lifestyle, but Logan knew the reason. Seducing the members of the school board or battling Satan himself with the power of funk, Doop was the school’s protector. If the League of Nazi Bowlers wanted to attack, he would strike before they could. If an alien invasion needed thwarting, he would team up with Howard the Duck to push them back. He was the hero that Westchester needed, but not the one it deserved. He was a silent guardian, a watchful protector, the Doop knight.

Art by Mike and Laura Allred

During his tenure at the school, the original five X-Men were brought to the present. This made a lot of people very angry and was widely regarded as a bad move. In the midst of the X-Men trying to send them back to their own timeline, Doop confessed his love to their mentor, Kitty Pryde. He floated down on one knee and presented her with a ring made of rancid meat. She was confused, disgusted, and intrigued. To prove his love, Doop took Kitty to his home. It was the place between panels, the margins of the book, the world that begins where the story stops, it was Doopspace. They ate at Chateau Du Armpit Hair, watched The Cinema of Emptiness, and played games at the carnival of chaos. He asked Kitty to be irrational, to feel with her heart and not think about it. Doop let Kitty return to the story and stayed in the margins where he discovered that a future version of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants had infiltrated the X-Men. He darted into action but was held back when Raze threatened to reveal a dark secret he learned from Doop’s mother.

Art by David Lafuente and Laura Allred

Doop was faced with his greatest fear, but after a pep talk, he decided to face Mama Doop and finally understand his past. Now Doop had long subscribed to the belief that he was created when Ingmar Bergman scribbled in the margins of his script for The Seventh Seal, but the truth was that Bergman didn’t create him. Mama Doop blamed Doop’s creation on Papa Doop leaving their family, she told him that he ruined their marriage and he couldn’t argue because he had never seen his parent together. The truth sent Doop into a mental breakdown that was only stopped by his buddy Wolverine defeating Mama Doop and getting the actual truth from her. She revealed that Doop came from a race of asexually reproducing hermaphrodites, Mama Doop and Papa Doop were one in the same.

He and Kitty had a heart to heart about the revelation and Doop rescinded his offer of marriage. Kitty tried to talk him back into it but Doop revealed his grand gambit. Doop really just wanted to help Kitty make a decision she never thought she could. Kitty didn’t want the original X-Men to go back, not if it wasn’t on their own terms. Kitty stood against the school she loved and the friends she cherished to help her X-Men. And Doop? Doop returned to the margins where he remains today.

Art by Duncan Fegredo

Must Read

There are two issues to sum up the mystery that is Doop. One is a silent issue of X-Force that revels in the pop art absurdity that built the character and the other is a day in the life of the X-Men’s floating green potato. Wolverine & the X-Men #17 is a respite from the chaos of Avengers Vs X-Men tie-ins, simply showing what Doop does at the school. With beautiful art by creator Mike Allred, and Jason Aaron writing his peak zany goodness, it is a fantastic one shot that is worth the time.

Ary by Mike and Laura Allred

Ranking

I am going to upset people with how high Doop is going to go. The more I read and researched for this article, the more I remembered how much I love Doop. He is an X-Men character unlike any other. He is the absurdity of Mister Mxyzptlk combined with the marking potential of Slimer. He is a statement of intent for the X-Statix era and a continuing reminder to not try and make sense about X-Men. I think the closest character on the list to Doop is Dr. Nemesis and I get more excited by seeing Doop float around in the background. Psylocke is probably a better written character than Doop but I don’t think Old Man Logan is even close. That makes Doop the new number 8 in the Xavier Files.

Doop was requested by /u/RussisanOkayGuy and others. Thank you for the request. If you have a request for how about you send it below? If you want to cut to the front of the two-year long line, we have a Patreon you can support Xavier Files for just $1 to get a line cutting reward.

Click here if you want to see the full ranked list, with links to every entry in the Xavier Files so far.

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Entry 075 – Doop was originally published on Xavier Files