#its manifested as a fucked up little creature that chews up this show like a dog toy. does that make any sense.

[no-saints-no-scholars]

The only right way to write the Total Drama cast in high school aus is as one of those giant incest friend groups that has one (ONE) token sane straight person in it. Nearly all the guys think it's them. It's Leshawna

[hoodoo12]

Festival (30/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @go-commander-kim @saucymangos @beetlebitchywitch

Everyone departs, in various ways. Some go away further than others (and may have further adventures . . . wink) Thank you to everyone who took a chance reading this very self-indulgent rp scenario. Thanks especially to @pinkbeej for being such a fun amazing partner, and more importantly, a fun amazing human being.

Beej and his clone locked eyes as Eve explained the circumstance. Initially there was hesitation on his part for losing a piece of himself permanently, a sort of damage he had never sustained before; on her part, for losing her home, her lover . . . the two of them felt so certain that the curse would bring her back into him the moment he was put away. If that wasn't the case, though . . .

"It'll be fine. I think she's shown she's got enough drive to be . . . the me I could never quite be," he said softly, giving a nervous grin to the manifestation of his self-hatred and femininity. She was made from powerful feelings, and had much more potential than he'd previously thought.

Pink swallowed thickly and nodded, biting at her lips as tears lined her lower lid. Beej floated closer to her so that she'd have no cause to release Carmen's hand or leave Kadus' grasp. Two additional arms sprouted from her, reaching for him as he leaned in to embrace her. The hair of both forms gleamed brightly, and when he pulled back he looked surprised for a moment, until understanding and a wider smile set in.

"Go. If you end up staying . . . you'll be all right."

He backed up a step as Pink scooped Carmen up into arms that stretched to comfortably hold her even with her distended stomach.

"I'll see you at home, sugar." she murmured, kissing her cheek and neck. "Or I'll find a way to come see you again."

She turned timidly to Kadus and blushed. "You . . . you sure you don't mind me coming along?"

⁂

Jessie perked her brow a little, but noted that it didn't seem like Eve would help them find out more about Andy . . . now that she was familiar with his face, she supposed that didn't matter much. Perhaps she'd talk some sense into him, but . . . well, there was always her way of dealing with things to fall back on. She shook off the initial irritation at having no further leads into finding the asshole and turned her focus back to the brownie and Ollie.

"What do you think honey? He's been helpful and sweet. If he would like to, would you mind us offering to bring him home?" she asked. It relieved her to think that there would be another being to keep Ollie company if she wanted some alone time with BJ. She had to admit, the furry little thing was so ugly it was cute.

"Does that interest you?" Her last question was asked directly to the brownie.

She mindfully continued to touch BJ through the questioning, allowing a steady stream of her thoughts to pass to him in flashes. The man being gutted if he appeared again-- Ollie and the brownie being occupied together while she took his hand and pulled him to Harold's porch--a little burst of excitement and pleasure at the recollection of the taste and effect of the jelly cakes.

With a pink tint to her cheeks, she allowed her mind to wander down other avenues as well. His thumb in her mouth--hands held above her head--the sharp, repetitive slap of hard thrusts--her pinned and bent beneath him, thighs nearly at her sides with his tongue in her mouth . . .

She looked a little dazed as the fantasy ran away with her and she stopped herself before she could go so far as to tease him with the orgasm he wasn't yet allowed to have. Gods, she hoped it'd make him ravenous. She felt delightfully attractive and sensual, reveling in the pleasure she'd been able to share that night. She ached in her womb with the desire to be claimed by him, to give back every piece of her she'd shared for his pleasure.

The flow of thought and emotion shut down as she found herself spurred even further into her needy daydreams by the realization that he had access to her little mental spiral. She tried hard to focus instead on the responses to her questions.

⁂

Watching her lover and his clone quietly make the decision for her to go, Carmen chewed on the inside of her lip. She wanted him whole but wanted him happy, and she was only just beginning to understand which fractured parts of his souls each clone manifested. It seemed like this decision was edging more towards the happy side of his equation. She enjoyed getting to know this clone, but if it was best for Beej, she supported it.

What worried her most is not calling his name. He’d been out all night, and despite not using much of his energy he did use some, and she had no idea how much he actually had, or if he was leaving a trail that was going to lead his monster of a mother back to them. She hated that keeping him safe meant keeping him cocooned away from the world.

Still, she accepted the the final decision and burst into a surprised little laugh as his female clone pulled her against her, even as tears wet her face. “Have fun,” she whispered into her ear, “be careful.” She took a deep breath, locking the light floral scent from the delicate flowers into her memory. She pulled back a little and brushed her pink hair back just to keep the contact for a moment more, then kissed her gently on the mouth. “I can’t wait to hear about everything,” Carmen told her, then let her go. Once Pink was released, Kadus gathered her up. “Yes, ροζ θεά μου. I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise. What the witch says is true, however. I don’t know the way back that isn’t ordained by set laws between the worlds.”

“The door, centaur,” a low voice near the dying bonfire called. Carmen and Beej looked over Kadus���s haunches to the minotaur who’d spoken. At some point he’d put on his thin loincloth again, and in the brightening dawn, Carmen saw the true color of his horns under the gilding: verigated white and black. In respect to the somberness of the moment she had to bite her tongue and not giggle; she must be automatically drawn to black and white now. She could feel Beej’s fingers tightening on her and his quizzical glance at her as she shook slightly in the effort not to laugh, and knew she’d have to tell him why sooner or later.

“I’ll take care of her,” Kadus assured Beej and Carmen. It was easy to see they were torn between letting her go, worry, and fear. It pleased him, however, that his offer was accepted; he hadn’t lied when telling Pink he wanted to show her his homeland.

With a final nod to the two of them, he led Pink away towards the faint shimmer passed the bonfire. A satyr slipped through, and a few fauns lingered as if to see if Eve was going to follow. She didn’t. They skipped into the doorway, visible one second and not the next, and then the minotaur lowered his head to step through as well. When it was Kadus’s turn, Carmen lifted her hand to wave and then wiped away more tears that fell.

⁂

Jessie had asked him a question, but before he could answer dirty fantasies flooded his mind’s eye. As much sex as she’d had over the past night she was still horny and it showed; it should be embarrassing to get a hard-on with a breather who was a essentially a stranger standing right in front of him, but after this orgy he supposed it didn’t matter.

BJ reached up to cup Jessie in what he hoped looked to be a protective way, although it was mostly to keep his hand off his cock for the moment. He did manage to muzzle a moan at the images she fed him too, and briefly he wondered if she was going to be sore, when they could find some time for themselves, and--oh shit, when did she need to feed again?

They really did need to go.

It was in the back of his mind that he had no real reason to refuse to let another fey take up residence in his place, and Jessie was already asking the little creature its opinion. It was answering positively without his blessing anyway. The witch’s pointed directive at least gave him a chance to turn and move to pick up his suit. “Leaving the clearing is exiting,” she called after him, making him pause. Should he say something to anyone else? The specter who seemed so similar to him but different in fundamental ways hadn’t yet turned back to them. He had no idea if he’d ever see him and his scarred lover again, so it would probably be polite--

“We’re going,” BJ called in their general direction. When the two of them turned, he lifted a hand. “Thanks for . . .”

Stupid, but he didn’t know how to end that sentence. A one time blow job and fuck fueled by fairy magic didn’t mean anything, but being approached and accepted did. In the end, paralyzed by indecision, he simply nodded to them, made sure everyone he carried had a handhold on him to not be dislodged, and stepped into the treeline. His suit reclothed him with a thought, like a second skin, and despite Ollie’s earlier declaration he’d have to find his own way home, the leprechaun twittered in his ear a route. Arriving with two housemate but leaving with three, BJ shook his head and glanced back for a final look at the clearing.

As Pink returned Carmen's kiss with a sweet smile in her eyes, Beej watched the exchange with mixed feelings. There was still the large amount of certainty that his clone would be pulled back into him by the curse, but the tears on his lover's face made him almost regret the decision to let a piece of himself travel to another world. The potential for what they could learn from it, though . . .

As Pink floated alongside Kadus, having waved to Carmen, Beej and even smiling in farewell toward Eve and the specter who had indulged with them all earlier . . . it dawned on her that perhaps it was his interaction that gave her the courage to try to branch out and caused her to make Kadus' acquaintance.

She hugged close to him, eyeing the door between their worlds with excitement, wonder and curiosity. Her arms tightened around his arm as she watched the other beings vanish in passing through. As Kadus prepared to pass through, she turned and saw Carmen waving to her. With a brilliant smile, she raised her arm and waved back, though her wave was bouncy, happy and enthusiastic.

Before she could change her mind, she turned and met Kadus' eyes with a warm smile and nodded, floating alongside him as he stepped through.

Beej turned to Carmen and gathered her to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks and bending to kiss her lips softly. Multiple hands fussed over her, drying her tears and brushing back her hair from her forehead, stroking her back and cupping her ass to pull her in.

"'S alright babes, I'm right here." he murmured softly, hoping to comfort her.

He nudged her forehead with her own, kissing her cheeks and the tip of her nose sweetly. The call of BJ's voice snagged his attention, and even as he held her close he turned to listen to the other ghost.

The half-finished sentence made him smile, the guy did seem like the type to not know what to say after a positive experience with strangers . . . and truth be told, he could remember the time when he wouldn't have had words either.

"Thank you!" he called back with a grin, "'N remember, it's all right ta be happy."

One of his many hands held up BJ's card, displaying that he'd held onto it purposefully, not wanting to lose the memento of this strange other.

Jessie listened to the exchange with a grin, cocking her head a little as Beej held up a somewhat familiar looking card. It'd been ages since she'd seen any of those, back before they'd replaced the bed! She didn't have much to say, but she raised her tiny arm and waved at Beej and Carmen and Eve as BJ stepped away, clothing himself and taking his leave with her and both tiny fey clinging to him securely. As they vanished from view, Beej looked back down to Carmen with a smile.

"How're ya feelin' babes?" he asked, brushing her hair behind her ear again. "'m surprised yer still standing."

His lighthearted tease was followed up by a soft kiss to her lips.

Carmen watched as Beej’s clone floated to the doorway on the arm of the centaur, excitement plastering a wide smile on her face. It occurred to her, in a rush of panic, that she was nude, but just before she could call out after her to put on some clothes, Beej was holding her and kissing her, and the other specter’s voice was telling them he was leaving.

She turned just her head in response to the call, and by the time she looked back to the doorway between planes, Beej’s clone was gone.

She held onto Beej a little tighter then, even as she managed a good bye to the ghost almost at the tree line. His striped suit reappeared on him and although she should have been able to see him for a longer period in the trees, after only a step or two he was gone from sight as well.

Her throat hurt, and she took in a shaky breath. Beej still cuddled her, soothing her; it occurred to Carmen she should be doing that for him, not the other way round. Still, his query made her laugh a little. Luckily Eve had given them a little privacy, returning to the side of a few other witches tamping out the remaining coals of the fire, so she didn’t feel embarrassed to answer him.

“I’m not sure either,” she admitted, slipping a hand between her legs to cup herself lightly. “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to walk once all the adrenaline wears off.

“Thanks for last night. I’m glad we attended.” Carmen kissed him and was interrupted with her cousin telling them to get their clothes; it was past time to go. Hand in hand, they crossed the clearing to where they’d entered. Carmen slipped her cotton shift over her head and let Eve and Beej lead her through the forest again.

fin

[kathyprior4200]

The Shadow and The Microphone

Alastor’s Shadow (Rotsala) and Alastor’s Microphone (Dave) have been a part of the Radio Demon since he arrived in Hell. Nobody except Alastor knows their actual names…and their names are ones they gave themselves. After Alastor made a deal with Kalfu and evil spirits in his human life and shortly after his death, he was granted with enough raw power to topple dominant overlords and spread terror to the denizens of Hell.

 Alastor’s shadow was born of dark Voodoo magic. He first remained in human Alastor’s subconscious as dark matter (courtesy of Kalfu’s magic and Alastor’s mother wishing for Alastor to not be alone after death)… until he was free when his owner died. After gathering some ingredients and retrieving Dr. Facilier’s spell book, Alastor painfully separated his shadow from himself. After briefly feeling vulnerable in the dark, and almost attacking Alastor, the shadow submitted to him and became his body guard and companion. He helps Alastor control the other shadow demons and acts as a second in command in battle.

 Like Dr. Facilier’s companion, Alastor’s shadow has a mind of his own and manifests as a dark apparition of Alastor’s most sinister thoughts and desires. He usually makes growling and cackling sounds (like Facilier’s shadow) but can communicate telepathically with Alastor. He frequently appears as a tall dark man with Alastor’s tuff ears, a wide grinning mouth, and glowing eyes. His eyes and mouth can change color from deep red to bright blue, to yellow and anything in between. He can switch between an Alastor form and a more sinister wendigo-like form with large fangs and a rack of antlers extending from his head. Alastor can also see through his shadow’s eyes, thus he also acts as a spy. Alastor’s shadow gains strength by eating the shadows of other demons, preventing them from moving and making it easier for Alastor to kill them.

 Alastor’s microphone staff is a living part of him. The radio voice that comes from it is actually a radio version of his human voice. It first manifested as a non-magical microphone staff decorated with golden antlers around it that human Alastor had made to show off his famed radio host status. Alastor had used a bit of magic to gather more listeners around their radios. Sadly, it was broken and burned after his death. A dark entity merged with the red vintage microphone staff created for Alastor by the dark spirits/Loa. The microphone spoke “I heard you loud and clear!” in the first episode. Like Alastor’s shadow, the microphone has a mind of its own.

 The microphone staff has a single red eye that glows when it is turned on. The microphone is what allows Alastor to broadcast his murders…the eye shines a light from the microphone. The microphone has other unique powers that could be an extension to Alastor’s many Eldritch powers of tentacles, teleportation, portals, blood magic etc. When the staff plays music mixed with static and demons stare at it too long, they can become hypnotized, eyes turning to red radio dials. Powerful radio waves can be blasted from the microphone with three taps of the staff to the ground. These waves can push demons back and blast their eardrums and brains. Alastor can swipe the staff to make things appear, as shown when he used it to make clothing appear on Vaggie. When Alastor goes full demon/wendigo form, the staff is used to mimic voices, sounds, and music to lure victims in (like Siren Head). But the microphone’s main purpose is to assist Alastor in his broadcasting.

 Without those two beings, Alastor would’ve had more of a challenge taking over areas of Hell…and it’d be far less entertaining!

Chapter One: That’s Entertainment

 “Well ladies and gentleman, Happy New Year and happy survival to all the lucky ones out there! The twenty four hours of the Extermination have passed and man, was it quite the show! The princess is shooting fireworks from the balcony as we speak, which means it’s safe to head out and try to claim new territory. Though if any of you sinners go near my radio towers, you’ll wish that the Exterminators had ended you right then and there. I hope you enjoyed this long and lovely broadcast. Until next time! Stay tuned.”

 Alastor’s microphone soon blinked off from its glowing red state. The microphone let out a low mechanical groan of relief. Sure it was the microphone’s job to allow Alastor to broadcast massacres and music whenever he wanted, but even a device needed proper rest after a while. The microphone closed its single red eye and faded to sleep.

 Alastor had spent the majority of the time broadcasting from within his lair, located underneath Hell and in the realm of shadow spirits. It had gotten the nickname “Deer Den,” by other sinners, though he liked the name as well. Soon though, he quietly arrived to the surface via portal to enjoy the finale of the screams, shrieks, and slaughters of the Exterminators cutting down demon after demon. Turning around from the wall-length glass window he glanced back toward a darkened corner of the studio.

 “It’s alright, you can come out now,” he said in a radio voice.

 A brief slither of movement in the dark space.

 “Come on,” he coaxed. “No Exterminators, nor angelic spears to hurt us.”

 Ever so quietly, the darkness inched forward to reveal a head poking out from within the wall. Out emerged Alastor’s shadow. He stood the same height as Alastor and had the same fluffy deer ear tufts and tattered dress coat that he wore. He even had a deer tail and antlers branching out from his head. The antlers shrank back as he opened his blue mouth an inch. There was a row of sharp dark teeth, and his eyes glowed blue. A chittering sound mixed with static emitted from the shadow as his eyes looked around for any sign of danger. There was only his owner standing in front of him.

 “Good,” said Alastor as he looked at him. “Come along, we have work to do.”

 The shadow obliged and pooled into the floor out of sight as he followed Alastor out the door.

 As Alastor was walking, the shadow briefly floated up into the air, surveying the scene. There were bloodied bodies everywhere. Many of them had weapons pierced through their skulls or spilled organs. Alastor may have been a little hungry, but he was humming happily along the street instead, keeping an eye out for any useful angelic spears. He found one and happily plucked it from a horned demon corpse. The spear vanished in his hand, reappearing back in his lair.

 Alastor ignored the brief pangs of hunger from his stomach. Just the smell of blood and decaying flesh in the air was beginning to make the demon’s mouth water a little as he hummed.

 His shadow, on the other hand…

 The sound of crunching came from behind the Radio Demon. Alastor’s ears flicked before he turned around. He cleared his throat and glared.

 The shadow was on his knees in front of a dead demon, his mouth chewing on flesh and muscle like a starved wolf. He saw Alastor and froze, a piece of flesh falling from his mouth. It looked like a child being caught in the act of stealing a snack.

 “What do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be looking for spears and watching my back.”

 The shadow let out a deer bleat mixed with static. His voice sounded like snippets of different voices together.

 “But I’m hungry!”

 “There are more important things to focus on, dear fellow,” he said. “You’d be wise to learn some self-restraint.”

 Reluctantly, the shadow wiped his mouth and hovered closer to Alastor.

 “That’s better, now let’s be off.”

They soon arrived at one of the looming radio towers. The top of it had a blinking yellow eye that always peered in every direction like an all-seeing eye. It was constantly humming and retaining energy that lurked within the metal beams. There was a nearby cabin that served as one of many studios that Alastor had made for himself. It reminded him of his family’s summer cabin back when he was alive.

 “Go make your round,” Alastor ordered. The shadow flew into the air, searching above and below for any intruders. There were no signs of any demon trying to cross the boarders or break in. After a few minutes, he returned by his owner’s side and chittered in affirmation.

 With the areas clear and safe, Alastor made his way further into Pentagram city, his shadow vanishing again.

 With his shoes clacking against the pavement, Alastor walked over behind a flaming blue deer overlord and Crymini, the Hellhound. Charlie was on TV, talking about her plan to open up a hotel to rehabilitate sinners.

 Alastor stood behind two hellhound twins wearing crop tops and a hanging jester. Next to him was a poster that showed him in his demon form terrorizing the circus, demons trapped within flames inside the tent. His army of voodoo horned imps carrying knives and skulls on pikes surrounded the tortured sinners. The words were bold and full of warning: “BEWARE HIM!” “DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM!” In tiny letters off to the side on the wall read: “for a good time: 666-373-9494.”

 Alastor tilted his head to the side in curiosity. His shadow appeared off to his right, morphing into a snarling wendigo deer-like creature. He couldn’t help but tap his foot and hum along as she sang.

 The shadow stared in curiosity as well, his mouth open in hunger. He was anxious to witness Alastor mess with other demons again. He just hoped that if he happened to kill some that he’d get a good share of the meat. Sharing Alastor’s love of singing and music, the shadow swayed his body from side to side, even trying to sing along.

 After Charlie had finished singing, Alastor laughed out loud. That was quite the performance he had seen! He particularly enjoyed Charlie’s demon transformation and her conjuring of fire for the special effects. And he had to admit that she was a good singer too, despite her ridiculous idea.

 But his favorite part came up next.

 In the blaring red lights, Charlie and Katie fought each other on the desk. Katie was in her insect demon form, crawling on her hands and limbs. She briefly held Charlie down, who dodged and then leapt at Katie, knocking both of them off the table.

 “She’s pretty and has a feisty spirit,” Alastor thought.

 “Why won’t anyone help me?” Tom Trench yelled as flames rose from his body.

 “You’re on fire, Tom Trench!” Alastor exclaimed, while laughing at his own joke.

  Befriending the princess, and doing something different seemed like a good idea. He glanced over at a faraway Happy Hotel building.

 He knew where he would go next. His shadow vanished again.

  After following the white limbo to the hotel in his car, he got out and made his way up to the double stained glass doors with the apple designs on them. Upon further inspection of the hotel, he noticed it was a unique design if not a bit under wear and tear. From the Titanic-like ship off to the side to the hanging carousel that made up a balcony…and perhaps his favorite part, the circus tent overhang in the front decorated with eye designs.

 He had never actually met Charlie before but he heard that she was powerful and different among the demons. For one, she was born in Hell, and two, she was the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, king and queen of Hell.

 He would have to tread carefully around members of the royal family. Though he thought of them as amusing, he knew how powerful they were.

 Sweat formed on his forehead and he found himself glancing around.

  Why was he suddenly…nervous?

 Somebody like him couldn’t afford to let any sign of weakness show. Of course He wanted to make a good first impression, plus he was sort of curious as to why she would pursue this rehabilitation idea. His nervousness faded away when he imagined Charlie as naïve. Maybe he could easily trick her and not have to be caught by anyone?

 The best thing he could do for the moment was be polite and offer to help. As any good charmer and manipulator knew, first impressions and the process were everything…

 And a nice big smile was the crème de la crème.

  Puffing out his chest, he knocked on the door.

 It was a very slow “Shave and a Haircut knock.”

  The knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

  An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

 Unless…

 She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

 Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door. A couple of shadow spirits poked their heads through.

 Charlie’s face morphed into sheer terror, eyes wide as saucers.

 Yes, there she was, right in front of him. Alastor opened his eyes as they glowed red, a radio sound emitting from him.  His staff turned on with a red glow. His eyes dilated playfully as he raised a finger in greeting.

 “Hell…”

 The door abruptly slammed shut.

 Brief silence.

 Charlie opened it again…

 “…oooo!”

 Slammed it again.

 Alastor could hear Charlie’s muffled voice from inside.

 “Hey Vaggie!”

 “What?”

 “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

 “What?!”

 “Who?” asked Angel.

 “What should I do?!” Charlie asked.

 “Well, don’t let him in!” Vaggie said.

  A growl formed in Alastor’s throat.

 He stood there, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

 “Well… that was…rude,” he thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

 He had been turned down not once but twice by her! If she had been an average demon, she would’ve been a bloody heap on the floor. The princess should know better than to reject anyone like that, especially a prideful demon like himself.

 Any offense to his pride would not go unnoticed.

 Charlie opened the door again.

 “May I speak now?” Alastor asked, hiding his anger.

 “You may,” said Charlie.

 Alastor held out his right hand to her, which briefly glowed. He half expected her to reach out and shake it right away…which would’ve proven her naïve nature…but instead she just stood there.

  “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

 He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” he went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!”

 Audience cheers came from his staff as he turned around.

  “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!”

 He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. He glanced back at Charlie who was by the door. “So many orphans!”

 A sharp spear was suddenly pointed at him. He froze in fear, his smile still on his face.

 “Stop right there!” It was Vaggie.

 She swore in Spanish under her breath: “Carbon hijo de perra! (Idiotic son of a bitch!) I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!”

 Alastor’s eyes narrowed and glowed. He made a low noise of warning.

 “You have a lot of nerve to stand up to me like that, girl,” he thought. “You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly aren’t going to stand in my way.”

 Alastor merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers. Charli and Vaggie were in front of him.

 “Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 He added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

 His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials and radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

 Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. For a brief moment, they had been small red pupils inside black sockets.

 “That scare should teach them to remember their place,” he thought.

 He bowed. “No, I’m here because I want to help!”

 Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

 “Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

 “Help!” he responded with another laugh, leaning in close before moving back.

 He held up his microphone staff.

  “Hello?” he asked with a laugh. “Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded, eye shaking in fear.

 The microphone didn’t take kindly to be shaken out of its stupor.

 “Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

 “With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s voice,

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

 Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

 “I want to help you run it.”

 “Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

 Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

 He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head.

 “My work became mundane...lacking focus…”

 He then shoved Vaggie aside. She was clearly an inferior little doll he could push around.

 “…aimless!” he continued. “I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

 He laughed again.

Charlie looked downcast. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

 Alastor laughed again.

 “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

 Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!”

 He glanced at Vaggie and Angel Dust sitting on the sofa, mischief in his eyes. They would be fun to mess with.

  “The chance given to them was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

  He spread out his arms, turning away. “There is no undoing what is done!”

 His eyes glowed red, pupils constricted. There really was no way to change the past. All the sinners were destined to suffer in a matrix of pleasure, illusion, and the threat of a second death. For Alastor, every demon was a lost cause…and paradoxically, that also included him.

 He had dealt with authority figures before in his previous life…those racist religious folk who believed that God and the elite had complete control over his fate and the fate of everyone else. Now here it was again, in the form of God, the angels, Vox, Lucifer pretty much anybody he hated. It wasn’t his fault he killed and ate all his victims.  If certain people hadn’t pushed him over the edge…

 He glanced over when he heard Charlie’s voice.

 “So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor smirked and looked at Charlie over his shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

 He pulled her close to him with his arm and twirled her around in a quick dance. Charlie narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a look. He ignored her. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

 Off to the side, his shadow appeared and cackled.

 Alastor’s eyes glowed red and his left eyebrow raised slightly. Just the thought of having the fates and lives of demons in his hands was enough to get him excited…or perhaps even aroused.

 “Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder. Alastor’s hand flinched at the sudden touch.

 Alastor chuckled and took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

 He impressed her further with some charm and making his staff appear in his hand.

  Vaggie walked up to Charlie and pulled her aside.

 “Charlie, listen to me. You just can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

 Alastor drummed his fingers against his palm, listening in on their conversation with a grin.

 “I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

 Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in white, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

 “Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

 “Just trust me,” Charlie added placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

 Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

 From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled inward, hand glowing. From his viewpoint it looked like he was grabbing onto both girls. They glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

 “I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

 “Don’t worry, Charlie replied to Vaggie. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…” she spoke in a manly voice, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

 Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

  “Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

 Charlie turned away. She was so close and so vulnerable. It took all of the shadow’s restraint not to lunge at Charlie and sink his teeth into her.

 Red Voodoo symbols floated around Alastor as his eyes glowed.

 “If you could stay turned around so I can knock you out…” he thought.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and the symbols vanished.

 “So close,” he thought in frustration as she turned around to face him.

  Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

 Alastor twirled his cane and held out his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

 Flashes of eerie green light surrounded him, electricity snaking up the walls. The shadow’s eyes turned green, his smile growing wider.

 “Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals!”

 Alastor’s eyes constricted, and the shadow moped in the distance out of sight. “She rejected my deal,” he thought. “This will be more challenging than I expected.”

 He walked forward a step.

 Charlie continued.  “As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

 The shadow and the microphone hid in laughter. Her request was so vague, it left room for so many loopholes. That meant that Alastor could leave and betray the hotel whenever he saw fit.

 A moment of pause…Alastor brushed his hair back.

 “Sound fair?” she asked.

  “Hmm. Fair enough. Cool beans.” Alastor shrugged, walking on and making his cane disappear. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

 Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. How pathetic she was, frowning like that. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

 “Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

 Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked.

 “Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

 He walked over towards Angel.

 “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

 Angel grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

 Alastor could almost scream in disgust after hearing that.

 “Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

 “Your loss,” Angel said with a slight laugh. Alastor summoned his cane.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

 The spell came easily in his mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

  He snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall. The wall and fireplace were repaired.

 A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

 Alastor walked over and picked up the creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a pink dress with a poodle on the front, her short wide hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow.

 “This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced, before dropping her. She landed on her feet. She was an adorable little thing.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly and her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

 “Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Angel was male, for obvious reasons.

 She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie held her spear defensively at her.

 “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

 She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

 She raced around, removing cobwebs, then poking at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a live blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for Niffty to play with. Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

 “So fortunate of me to have met her in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard she died from too much smoke. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give her much of an option to begin with…” he thought.

   Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

 “Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

 He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

  “Full…whoa!”

 “Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

 He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

 The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

 “…the hell?”

 As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. Husk was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

 “What the fuck is this?”

 He saw Alastor and pointed an accusing claw.

 “You.”

 “Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted. “Glad you could make it!”

 Husk could have at least been polite for once, but Alastor decided to let it slide.

 Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the white curtains supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

 “Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, and swiped Alastor’s hand aside from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

 “Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

 Husk face palmed. “What the hell do you want with me this time?”

 Alastor grabbed hold of him, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

 “My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

 Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

 “No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replied. He casually brushed off his sleeves.

 Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

 “Maybe.”

 Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

 “I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

 Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat demon. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

 He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from his radio staff.

 “With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

 Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after he let go.

 “…this job was made for you!”

 Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

 “Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

 With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

 Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

 “What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle on anger. “Well you can!”

 He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

 “Too easy,” thought Alastor.

 By this time, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

 “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…mouth, brothel, man-cave…”

 Angel lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

 “Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved hands.

  He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

 “Only if you watch me,” Angel retorted.

 To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

 “Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

 “I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed.

 Alastor’s eyes blinked rapidly at the sweet sight of Charlie rubbing her cheeks and smiling at him. He could watch it all day.

 “It’s okay,” Vaggie said from nearby, arms crossed.

 Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!”

 He shoved Vaggie again and his laughter mixed with the sound of an old radio.

 Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He threw the flames in the air, distracting Charlie from him shoving aside her friend hard. Alastor then changed his attire with magic. He now wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and red dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century.

 Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

 Alastor began to sing as he danced with Charlie, a new spring in his steps.

 “You have a dream

 You wish to tell

 He turned to the fuming Vaggie on the floor, letting her know that he thought Charlie’s idea was silly.

 “and it’s so laughable…”

 He turned back to Charlie.

 “But hey kid, what the hell!”

 Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

 Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

 Charlie found herself sliding down one of the apple-etched railings, Alastor leading the way. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise.

 “Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon belle!”

 Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

 Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

 Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a cute top hat with small flowers.

 “Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell

(Take it, boys!)”

 Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug with a laugh, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. Niffty watched in amazement, but not the other three.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause…”

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel close again. He rubbed Angel’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. Husk gave him the bird as he left.

 “But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile!”

(With a smile!)

  Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur to her outfit. She looked ridiculous. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

 Vaggie seethed in rage after he walked away.

 Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

 “And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool

With some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!

(What’s in style? Oh!)”

 He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including his own shadow, with large antlers and fangs.  The shadow grabbed onto his shoulders and grinned, his mouth and eyes blue. Alastor made him disappear in a poof, then snuck toward Charlie. He led her in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Charlie blushed when Alastor toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

 Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. Alastor was in his element, his pupils dilated, a joyful demeanor.

 Maybe this could turn into something more? Could it even be…love?

 “Here below the ground

I’m sure you’re plan is sound!

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

  Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. He stood frozen, pupils constricting, his body going alert.

 Whatever, or whomever had interrupted his song was going to pay dearly.

 Niffty stared in amazement, shouting “Whoo!” before she was blasted backwards, the door hitting her in the face.

 Alastor’s spell soon wore off and everyone was back in their regular clothes. Alastor, Husk (still drinking), Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

 Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

 “Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

 Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

 But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

 The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

 The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

 “He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

 Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

 “Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

 Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

 A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

 Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

 “Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

 Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

 From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

 “Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

 Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

 The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

 Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

 The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

 “Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

 Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

 Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

 Alastor’s angry, bloodlust eyes spoke volumes.

 “And stay out of this hotel and from my friends you pathetic excuse of snakeskin.”

 A sharp pain throbbed on his hand and bags appeared under his eyes. Magic had taken some work from him…and it also made him hungry.

 “Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group, happy again. “Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

 He laughed as he led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

 “You could say the kick was right out of Hell!”

 He added while laughing at his own joke, “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

 From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.  

Alastor continued, “Yes, sir, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

 He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

 The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

[nixalegos]

With Good Intentions

AUTHORS NOTE: I put a read more, as this story blurb has alot of squick in it, and it’s also likely my LONGEST story to boot, and nobody wants their dashboard cluttered up. Body horror, death, all that. Darker then usual for me, maybe not for most of you, but wanted to give the heads up anyway.

Somewhere in Jade Forest

“Never had to knock to be let in before, why is the whole town locked up and boarded?” He asked as he was finally let inside. “Oh, we’ve got troubles.” The barkeep said with his warbling tone, the Jinyu who owned the joint coming to double lock the door behind the familiar warlock. “One of the gatherers came back running, saying a dark ripple was spiralling in an open field, not less than half a day away.” They explained. “A dark portal? Is that why the call came out for the willing to get to the Vale of Eternal Blossoms? Are void portals forming on Pandaria? What of the Shado-Pan, surely you called for their help.” The hooded elf said as he pulled back a chair at the bars slightly damp counter. “Oh sure, sure, the mayor did...but they didn’t say when they’d be able to help.” Nix considered, the Shado-Pan were notoriously curt and dismissive of outsiders, and not without reason...and if a general call for -anyone- to come aid the Golden Fields...it was likely Pandarias shadowy defenders were already out-manned and unable to respond to something as petty as a small village way out on the coast. The hooded man looked at the Jinyu who for the first time since he met them, nervously washed and cleaned a glass, over and over. Such expressions had only recently been seen, the fear of the Sha manifesting from such negative emotions more than enough reason to suppress such displays in the past. “We’re just a fishing village..” “Tell you what, I’ll go check it out, make sure nothing crawled out, see if I can’t close it.” “You will?!” The jinyu replied, hope in their tone. “Sure, and in exchange, you have an order of that fried calamari waiting for me, alright?”

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“Oh hells, thats a larger portal then I expected.” Nix said outloud. “I’m measuring seven by six, and it’s stable.” He said as he clamped the spyglass shut to look over to where his Shivarra was still cloaked by magic. “But no cultists, no monsters...no ritual implements. Thoughts?” “Reality is weaker than you imagined, and whatever is going on in this Valley you were suppose to head to is a dire situation that is starting to spill out as far as out here, like ripples in water.” He grumbled and looked back they way they’d come, to the lush rich healthy greens that gave the forest its name. Then back towards the portal. “I keep my bargains.” “You should abandon such foolishness.” Nix considered the demons chastisement, then looked back again. “What better way to cause havoc then opening a second front with only civilians in your way? If a single void creature crawls out via this hole who knows what ruin they’ll bring after finding it. No. I’m shutting it down.” He said with an air of finality. “How, you said it was stable?” The demon said as it strode after its master. “I’m going to go in and sabotage whatever is keeping it open on the other side. There’s nothing out here powering it.” “You are not one of the Faithful, you’ll go mad.” The demon stated. Nix scoffed. “Still think the Big S had the right idea huh? Protected you from the nightmares? Weird to think we actually share an enemy.” “My first coven sisters died being dragged into such a portal, I am not following suit to die along a mortal fool I want to gut myself.” The demoness snarled with contempt dripping in its voice. “I can’t summon Negatrax to hold this end. Anyone else who stumbles on this portal with a Voidlord standing guard might do something stupid. You at least can’t be seen and the portal is still more a curiosity than a threat, and Vilynn would throw herself to follow me, which does me little good if the portals set to close behind me.” He explained. “So what is your plan?” The demon countered. “I jump in, destabilize it just on the other side. If it starts to close early, you reach in, and pull me out.” “And if there is the might of the Void on the other side?” “Then I leap out and we warn the village to evacuate.” Nix looked over himself, gauntleted hands roaming over his gear, double and triple checking his armaments. “Ok. Here goes nothing.” He stepped forward.

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Somewhere....Other

He was expecting shadows. Nightmares. Monsters. What he wasn’t expecting was stone walls that seemingly reached higher than the sky. He wheeled around..only to be met with another wall boxing him in. There was no portal to jump out by. “Oh fuck me.” He swore to himself as he realized he just how much trouble he might be in. He raised his hands, fingers curling as he sought to cast his own magics back to the real world. And nothing happened. He reached for his emergency teleporter. It wouldn’t turn on. His dimension rippers too bore no power. Even his hearthstone lacked its normal cooling blue glow. He was stuck. He turned around and slowly, carefully made his way down that seemingly unending corridor.

Hours passed. Even his pocket watch, the first gadget he’d built and been proud of had frozen still. He tried to keep time by counting in his head. He soon realized that the hall bore an end, but it was a maze, an oubliette, lefts and rights and over again.

Hours turned to days by his best guess, and it wasn’t until hunger drove him so that he made due with lichen that clung to those too high walls, and fetid water that pooled in low spots on the stone floors to soothe his thirst. He gagged, his body tried to hurl it back up, but it clung and slid into his gullet like lead. But it wasn’t enough after the week mark. 

Even starving, he walked, he was half tempted to chew some of his own flesh clean off, if it meant keeping the hunger down long enough to get out. Something had to be keeping him here, something had to be aware enough to keep his magics and means from working.

That was when the torture started. Light filled his vision. Colors that were -wrong- somehow. Colors the warlock had never seen before, never considered possible danced and strobed and cavorted inside his eyes, penetrating his thoughts, and as he discovered as he tried to sleep, his dreams. His hands covered his eyes and it did nothing. He slammed his head against the wall for unconsciousness and it did nothing, even as he felt his blood running down his face still those foul colors were all around him, forcing him to walking by feeling the closest wall for support. ‘Do you remember how many of our Eyes you blinded?’ A voice just like Nix’s said in his mind. The warlock, throat too dry to scream gave a dry hack, and he fell to the stone floor as his vision returned after days of being flooded with light. He sputtered and tried to push himself up, tried to blink the memory of those awful distortions away.

The sound of a hundred hundred goblin designed cannons went off next to his head when he realized he couldn’t cry, leaving him falling back onto the stone floor. ‘Do you remember the words you silenced from the mouths of our Speakers?’ That voice said, louder now. Loud discordant sounds flared and whizzed and banged in staccato misrhythm. Worse was when they stopped, and snarls and chattering sounds of claws scraped along the floor behind him, half starved warlock limping his way faster despite how tired he was. He didn’t want to stop and let the sounds catch up to him, knowing in his heart it was worse then moving forward. Time passed, and Nix shuffled his way onto stone colder than the crispest mountaintop. The air so frigid his breath spooled out in white waves, and his lungs hurt from trying to take it in. Only to stumble into a literal oven. Despite the fact the stone corridor never changed, showed no heat distortions, he knew his flesh was cracking from the temperature. ‘Do you remember how many of our hands you broke?’ The voice taunted now.

“I’ll kill you.” The warlock whispered between cracked and bleeding lips, still going forward despite the effort.

A day, or a month had passed. It was impossible to tell when he stumbled upon the others. A woman holding two bundles in her arms stood with her back to him. Despite knowing it was a trick. Despite knowing it would hurt him he reached up, tried to call out, to hail them.

The woman turned around, both it, and the ‘children’ it held were faceless. Nix stopped then, paralyzed on his journey for the first time at the otherness they radiated. A sickening parody of something that itched in the back of his mind, like Deja Vu. The children melded into piles of bloodied jelly and teeth as the thing pretending to be a woman glowed from the center of her forehead, red hot. Its skin turning to ash around the new thumb sized hole in its head, flaking away and floating towards him. He tried to lift his arms up to cover his face, but his gauntlets were too heavy for him now to react in time. He could only meekly sputter to keep the remains off his lips and chin. ‘Yes, kill is all you do isn’t it.’ The voice said again. ‘It’s all you ever wanted to do.’ The stone floor and high walls suddenly weren’t. He was free falling, his ash covered limbs splayed helplessly. Even the dark was wrong, the inky blackness he was streaking down was off color, echos of that first torture glimpsed in that midnight that he prayed was delusions brought on by adrenaline, the oily rainbow caught in a storm drain. ‘If you do not serve us, then we will hollow you out...and let the new you crawl out.’ That voice boomed in mocking parody of Nix’s own. He was falling faster now. Dust perhaps, slapped and strung across his paper thin skin to leave dots of his blood trailing behind him. His robes slowly, grew tattered, flecked, ripped by the micro impacts of invisible objects too tiny to possibly see. If they even existed. ‘We will give you purpose.’ The voice Nix couldn’t tell was his own head or not said as he landed in water. He knew he tried to scream as his legs broke upon impact the pain had been so great. ‘We will fill you with vision’. The escaping content of his lungs was the only screen he had from a sickening gaunt face staring back from those liquid depths. Its eyes a frenzied red, but its face...was the same one Nix had seen in every mirror, but drained, withered and thin. A mockup of flesh and skin that clung cheaply to the bone under it, but not mistakable for anyone else. ‘We will give share our words with you to speak’. A tendril of mightnight the color of oil slithered up and pried the warlocks mouth open, its tip gripping his tongue. He felt pincers cut his frenulum and insect like legs crawled along the inside of his mouth from that oily tentacle. He wanted to thrash. He wanted to fight back. Some instinctive animal part of him tried. Other whip thin shadows now raced up to join the first, hideous abominations of tendril and eyeless piranha and beetles, coiled and bit into his flesh. Each one nibbling and devouring in tiny all too painful bites from sphincter like mouths with too many teeth. ‘You cannot fathom how long we have waited for this’ The voice spoke so loudly in his mind he couldn’t think straight. ‘You’ve barely touched what eternity feels like’. Nix’s eyes widened in horror as he tasted meat upon his tongue as one tendril burrowed into his stomach with a sickening glee that wasn’t his own. He was being fed the taste of his own entrails, and the enjoyment the tendrils had for it. He couldn’t even weep nor drown properly as that gaunt face floated closer, more flush with stolen vitality. You will soon be me, don’t struggle. It’s not as if a single soul would have ever come to rescue -you-.’ That self same voice said smugly. He lacked the strength to even bite down on the crawling horror filling his mouth, no last biting remarks, no threats. He felt himself convulsing from the pain the bites and their psychic torment was inflicting, that sick gooey rush of pleasure from his own flesh. He was going to die here, alone, forgotten at best… And at worst another monster to be killed on the other side. A strong hand gripped him by the shoulder, narrowly by chance alone not grabbing where a tendril dug in, hauled with infernal strength. The gaunt face contorted in sheer rage and bellowed “NOOOOOOO” as Nix was dragged out. The shivarra grunted as she retched her...screaming, convulsing, sweating master from the closing portal to the glades lush floor, the shadowy edges of manifested darkness swallowing upon itself shut. Only to look and see he was throwing up what looked like coffee grounds...and a thin line of blood from his nose. Every one of his gadgets blaring in warning, discharging and failing and then she realized as Azeroth faded from their perception, his grip on her the only link she had to Azeroth, that she was back in the Nether…what had happened? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Jade Forests northern climbs was rustled with a cool breeze and the occasional falling leaf. The corpse, clad in dark purple robes laid there undisturbed until pin pricks of light started to show in the sky. The corpse coughed, sputtered, and wretch on itself as what was dead by foresight of magic alone brought it back to the world of the living. He tried to scream as he awoke, but could do little more then empty the contents of his stomach onto himself, and collapse on his side into the pile of dried long dead grass that encircled him. He spat his mouth clear of backwashed acid, and reached for his stomach...where he was whole, even his robes, despite their foulness, was still intact. The man lay there, and tentatively checked the rest of his body between breaths. He rolled over back onto his back and sat up, looking at the nearby corpse of dead trees near the glades edge that met the dead circle he sat in. He reached up and snapped, a flicker of will behind it as hellish fire lit between forefinger and thumb, and was just as quickly dismissed. His tools, intact, but mostly useless. Everything that had boasted a battery was drained. The warlock came to lay back down, grip the dead grass and leaves between his fingers and idly tossed a small handful of them up. He wanted to cry, to scream in rage, to burn everything around him to cinders and soot...but he needed to know. So he dragged himself, half pushing with solid legs up til he back was against the tree, and called upon his only witness to ask a single question. “How long…” He asked as soon as his summon went off. “What do you mean how long, you didn’t go anywhere.” The demon replied. “Didn’t...go?” The warlock asked as his blood ran cold and his stomach dropped. “You leapt in, the portal started to close, I pulled you out. Three, maybe four seconds. Then you seemingly suffered a heart attack, a stroke, and suffering from hypothermia and you died? What happened in there?” The warlocks reply was a half mad laugh, that broke into sobs as he slid onto his side. “Well, get up, you’ve your calamari to collect.” The demon said exasperated. The warlock threw up again in reply. He didn’t leave the glade until the morning light.

[lit--bitch]

Current-Reads (20/04/2020 - 26/04/2020) 🍓🐢

(Disclosure: I don’t know anybody I’ve been currently reading this week. 😊)

Adding the preface again here: every Sunday without fail I throw up the freshest literature and photography I’ve read over the week, sometimes it’s a book, sometimes it’s a piece I saw in a magazine or an online zine, sometimes it’s something I saw on social media, etc. Sometimes I add ‘RECOMMEND’ next to a few of the titles, but that’s not to say I don’t recommend all of them, I just love some pieces more than others. Not everything will be everybody’s cup of tea, yanno, c’est la vie. And any titles that you see in bold are hyperlinked so if you click or tap them they’ll direct you straight to the source… or shopping basket. 

This week I’m gonna throw in a red herring and tell you about something I’ve been watching as well as what I’ve been reading, because I think it’s really cool and definitely appropriate for the age we’re living in at the moment. 

So I’ve been reading: Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) which was edited by her son, David. I also read an interview on Granta from March between Rachel Long and Morgan Parker. I’ve also tucked into a couple pieces on Fence, Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’ and Anthony Michael Morena’s ‘The Whale’. I also saw Cecelia Knapp’s poem in Bath Magg Issue Three (but the whole issue is an absolute smacker, it’s great). Last but not least, I’m up to episode 5 of a brand new thing called The Midnight Gospel. It is crazy good. And it’s on Netflix right now. 

***

Cecilia Knapp, ‘I Used To Eat KFC Zingers Without Hating Myself’, Bath Magg Issue #3: I really loved the whole of Issue Three, I guess I was quite struck by this particular poem for its “staccato-ness”. This poem is buttered with present-day references. But they’re not necessarily about creating a familiar environment. Rather the object of familiarity is found within the assemblage of places, snacks and thoughts, all of which compound the grief ‘I’ is experiencing. The ‘I’ ruminates on life’s banality and their personal insecurities in living banality: ‘I need a thigh gap. I use emojis / to avoid conflict. Worry I’m a gentrifier. Watch docs about murdered women’. The vapidity is funny. The pain is not. The insecurities deepen. Your body, your life, continues the ache of day-to-day routine, and finds no resolution in the things which may or may not stand to comfort oneself when ravaged by loss. The poem feels quite loose, and disinterested. It’s a sore poem, but its array of references make it colourful. It sort of reminded me of Édouard Levé’s work a little bit? But if Édouard Levé had been a pop culture fanatic chewing HubbaBubba bubblegum on the London Overground.  Bath Magg is a pretty exciting new magazine, (been around just under a year I think?) and they’ve published a lot of great writers, many of whom are emerging and I’ve spotted some quite established peple in there too. Kudos to their rubber ducky logo. It’s run by Mariah Whelan and Joe Carrick-Varty. 

In Conversation with Morgan Parker and Rachel Long, Granta Magazine: I deeply love Morgan Parker’s work, she’s, in my opinion, the master of titles. I can’t think of anybody who titles their work as well as Morgan Parker does. And I love the depth of honesty and charisma in this interview. Like yeah, it appears to be a generic Q/A but, it genuinely feels like a conversation, and it’s welcoming and unpretentious. Rachel Long asks some penetrating questions, and Morgan’s answers are so detailed and self-aware. Most of the discussion revolves around the action of writing poetry in general and where does that impulse arise from, but they do discuss Morgan’s latest collection Magical Negro which came out February last year. It’s a narrative on black womanhood, on micro-aggressions and reoccuring violence, it’s about breaking down white perceptions of blackness, and dissolving those projections. What I love about Morgan Parker is she’s tackling this fucking idiot thing where (mostly) white people think she’s attempting to represent all black women in her writing, which is, by Morgan’s own admission, impossible. Her work is a duty to herself, to the background she’s lived and lives, and to unpack that discourse in her own way. And if it resonates, then great! I felt all this was inherent in the interview and only adds to my respect for her, and to Rachel for being such an attentive interviewer. BTW Rachel Long has a debut collection coming out this July, My Darling from the Lions.

Anthony Michael Morena, ‘The Whale’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): I can’t tell you how much I adored this beautiful mass of whale and word. It’s an essay which references the American Natural History Museum’s Blue Whale model. The writing is thick with feeling and fat with concern. It blends monologue, memoir. It’s non-fiction and documentary. It’s elusive, enigmatic, fragmented. It’s like broken biscuits and blubber. To me it felt like a note on the offences of climate change, the emotional response and grief as we bystand erosion and corrosion, the loss of life, and the urge to merge something back together as it dissolves and fragments before our eyes. It’s as personal as it is public. A gorgeous and complex piece.

Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) (RECOMMEND): I felt so afflicted reading Susan Sontag’s diaries, because y’know, it’s the equivalent of invading an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. Like, leave people alone. At the same like, this woman. These diaries are still shaping me, and each section leaves you with the weirdest aftertaste. Her personality permeates through every detail, every line-break, every reference and articulation of feeling. You learn so much, you gain so much from her perceptions and observations. How do I contain Susan Sontag? How do I describe these diaries? Not at all. Just buy it. 

Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): My eyes locked onto this piece and just didn’t really stop reading. Lexi’s voice is enamouring and hypnotic. It’s so violent too. You’re lunged into friction burns and sports injuries, time and progression, the tensions between collectivity and individuality, family and sexuality, or as Fence put it, ‘lesbian eros’. This piece felt acidic. At times you can’t tell if the ‘I’ is indifferent or hurting to the point of numbness. It straddles so many different thematics, and breaks down a lot of conventions pertaining to the “ideal experience” of family relationships and team work. The resolution seems to be that in spite of people, our collectivity is defined by our collective solitude. This essay kicked me around a football field. It takes a good few repeated reads to appreciate its kaleidoscopic shifting, but it’s definitely one of my favourites.

The Midnight Gospel, from Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell, Netflix: (RECOMMEND) So the other day my friend Ben linked this to me and I had seen the trailer ages back and thought “Oh yeah I really wanna watch that”, but just forgot. After his reminder, I started watching it and ever since I’ve been saying to loads of other friends “Have you watched ‘The Midnight Gospel’ on Netflix?” because I’m d y i n g  to talk about it with everybody. 

I literally can’t categorise this “TV show” to you. It’s like if animation had a baby with a philosophy podcast and then put that baby onto an IV drip of psychedelics. It’s this swarm of different stimuli which you kind have to zone in on and absorb individually and yet somehow collectively. 

So like, “Clancy” is a spacecaster who sets up “spacecasts” (podcasts) with creatures from other simulated worlds and he interviews them. But when Clancy transports himself into these worlds, it’s not like they’re sat down on some cream sofa with two glasses of water like it’s animated Oprah. No, his interviewees are like in the middle of fighting off a zombie apocalypse or meditating on a mountain or trying to find and save their lost lover. And Clancy just joins them on the journey and interviews them about their “specialism”. These are real people that are being interviewed like, the first episode is with Dr. Drew Pinker. And when you’re watching it, you think that the animation is totally separate to the conversation exchange the characters are having, but that’s not true. They have intersections, they have meaning. It only becomes obvious that it has meaning right at the end of each episode, but if you lock on you’ll see it’s all relevant throughout. 

One of my friends was like “Oh I might stick that on tonight and have a joint” and I was like, don’t fucking get high when you’re watching this because it’s already intense enough as it is, like you know that Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell have felt some real shit to create this absolute rare jewel. In my opinion, you don’t need cannabis to appreciate these discussions. But if you wanna do it, then hey it’s a “free country”. And it’s not as though there’s a serious, central core plot like there is with Rick & Morty, I mean there is a kind of overarching plot but it’s not always integral. Like ultimately we’re invested in Clancy’s story but also all the stories of all the other people that come his way. There’s multiple plots, there’s multiple dimensions and ways of seeing. It’s a programme which delivers on multiplicity, which manifests itself in everything and everyone we see and know and touch and hear, etc, etc. 

This production articulates some of the revelations that psychedelics can give you. Psychedelics don’t make you see the world literally like these animations do, but the sensations of the animation are reminiscent of an acid trip’s oscillating moods and sensitivities. It’s really cool, and it’s very poignant, and it’s my new favourite show to watch. And what’s so great about it is that, it requires multiple watches in order to really absorb everything in its entirety, so it’s a series you can just keep going back to even after you’ve seen them all. It’s re-watchable. Just fundamental goodness all round. Best way to indulge in it is with ice cream. 🍨

***

So that’s it for this week, next Friday’s review is Annie Ernaux’s A Girl’s Story translated by Alison L. Strayer, published with Fitzcarraldo Editions. 

Stay safe and well as always, my little caramels. 💁🏽

[calleo-bricriu]

I mean, inevitably, you’ll catch me.

(( Cleaned up set of threads with @absintheabsence ; minor edits for spelling/clarity. This is definitely one of those stories Calleo should not tell @lamentedhope because that poor man is stressed enough as it is.

This would have been mid August, 1990. ))

“Hold still, I’m nearly finished-“ he murmurs it almost crossly, slightly muffled- his fingers twist again twice or so before he is satisfied enough to take the twine from his teeth, and he ties the braid in place with a complex series of knots. “There, now.” He gives the tail of it a gentle tug, before bending his silvered head to kiss the bottom most curl, just once. “Pretty as a rosebud.”

“If I’m any more still, I’ll have to stop breathing and even then parts of me are still going to move.” That was probably a lie but, if nothing else was clear at the moment, it was that Calleo seemed to never really be entirely still.

Something was always moving, at least a little bit.  He did, however, stop talking for a few seconds as that, at least, was likely to keep his head still for the moment.

When there was implicit permission to move again, Calleo turned around and canted his head, “If you somehow weren’t already aware, the only time I tie it back is if I’m expecting a duel.”

“That,” a stupidly playful grin that most definitely reached his voice left no question as to what he was skirting around directly asking, “is something you can interpret as you wish but, for the record: Nothing lethal within twelve hours of a hit, nothing permanently disfiguring, nothing permanently debilitating, anything else I can patch up myself.”

“Don’t humour me, and don’t patronise me, just fuck me up. I want to see how long it takes.”

It begins in a white-hot flash of teeth and anticipation before Calleo hits the floor for the first time, coming down hard on cracked stone. Grindelwald was on his feet faster than he ought to be given his age and the condition Calleo found him in, but then again, he’d been eating better these days.

The cherry wand moved in that gnarled old hand like a whip- of course, of course he would lead with the Cruciatus. Test the defenses with a brutal series of hooks and barbs that fall into a rhythm- short, short, long, short, long, short-

The younger man’s skin is steaming as though he’d been hit by lightning when he hears the Dark wizard speak, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Pretty little bird- I will do more than that. I am going to tear you apart.”

The first moment Calleo could do anything besides remembering to breathe, he laughed; a breathy, ragged laugh, but still a laugh.

“Do that again, only this time, at the end, turn the hooks around opposite, interlock them, then,” he gestured upward with a slightly shaky hand, “up, and apart. It’s much worse that way.”

He didn’t wait for a second hit, despite knowing it’d be an inevitability. The warding in the rooms may have prevented apparating out of the building (or even the room) but it didn’t stop it from within the room and that was the quickest way to get into a less direct position.

Behind would have been too obvious, and off to either side? Likely expected as well. Instead, he disappeared from the floor in a whirl of black, reappearing instantly directly in front of the older Wizard, “Don’t tell me, show me.”

A quick, vivid flash of red that seemed to be a strangely modified version of a blasting curse came off more as a distraction than an attempt at a point blank hit. Considering the first dumb thing that came out of his mouth, Calleo at least realised he probably ought to–for now–remain defensive, or at least try to dodge by keeping it easy to break line of sight.

Not that it’d do any good.

The wards covering the inside of the room did not seem the least bit pleased at the interaction; several had sprung to life, coiled and waiting to be allowed at what they were guarding, and were…immediately disarmed by Calleo with one gesture, the second wave of his wand killed all of the lighting, including any that might have dared to leak in from one of the windows, leaving the room unnaturally dark. One of Braxford’s spells.

The next cast was aimed partially on sound, partially on memory as to where Gellert had been standing prior, though Calleo didn’t intend to actually hit him, assuming he’d have moved by now. It did, however, tear a path through the stone floor, acting more as magical scattershot.

Grindelwald ducked down with the burst of red heat that flew past, shredding fingernails in its wake, singing hair; it’s knocked aside a split second later, but his knuckles are already smeared and burning. Back in the day, he’d dropped men that stood against him by the dozen without taking a scratch, but who’s to say what he’ll allow now when he needn’t fear shedding a little blood?

A heartbeat passes, words moving through the space between them, and the cell is drained of every last drop of light. The two might as well have been at the bottom of the ocean, might as well have been six feet underground. He can taste the drop in pressure as the warding designed to quell prisoner uprising is snapped apart, can feel it crackling in his ears, the air stinging his insides as he pulls in breath after shuddering, joyful breath.

Then comes the current through the floor like a small earthquake; in the next blink of an eye (unseen, of course) he’s atop the rickety desk, and the hiss of a thought from him is enough to stop it creaking under his weight.

The fellow knows what he’s doing, he’ll give him that much.

Grindelwald is more than disposed to take the clever thing’s advice- he’s a glutton for punishment, naturally, but it’s more than that, he knows, oh yes, does he ever know- but not right away.

(And it’s more than advice, he knows that too; candidly telling a body the things you want, the things you need in these intimate kinds of situations, especially with someone new, is something the importance of which just cannot be overstated.)

Delayed gratification is always the most delicious kind.

A vicious, swift movement of his wand hand like the serrated edge of a knife brings phantom teeth clamping down on the softest parts of the body, the most vulnerable, targeted even as they still lay trembling after the latest Unforgivable- the backs of the knees, the tender points behind the ears, the webbing of the fingers and toes.

-and there, right on the heels of it, right there is something new, something invasive and wrong, slipping in under the skin through the smallest of lacerations and beginning to move.

The desk gave away the other occupant’s position fairly easily, though Calleo knew he wasn’t bound to stay there for long.

Before he had a chance to take another shot–things–began biting at him. A sharp intake of breath was the best Grindelwald was going to get out of him for that. Calleo was rarely loud in any regard, after all.

While one part of him quickly ran through potential counters to whatever magic was biting and clawing at him, Calleo reoriented himself in an attempt to keep tags on where the spells were coming from.

Even spells that didn’t leave a direct trail of light to follow had a direction based on how and where they hit.

The movement under the areas that spell had been chewing, Calleo had to admit, was highly startling. He was also well trained enough not so much in dueling but in fighting to know that if he let it keep him still he was only making himself a bigger target. The things moving, to him, felt more unpleasant and terribly, terribly wrong than they did painful and it took a good amount of mental wherewithal to work on stopping (or worse, removing) whatever was happening while still paying majority attention to the actual duel at hand.

Calleo hadn’t heard any other movement and assumed Grindelwald hadn’t moved from the desk, but he wasn’t about to take that risk. Instead of adding light–and making himself an easier target–to the room, he re-activated and triggered one of the prison’s locating wards and had it do exactly what it was meant to do: Find its prisoner.

The next spell lit the room yellow for the split-second it took it to reach Grindelwald. As it passed the other Wizard, missing only by a fraction of an inch, the locating ward went dead, and the wall behind him simply was gone.

Not quietly, not disappeared, the explosion rocked the entire foundation of the tower and the curse itself didn’t just detonate an explosion, it continued chewing its way through the walls, causing the ceiling and roof they held up to waver and collapse not to rubble, but to a fine dust that laid dead where it fell; not even movement stirred it as it would regular dust, and, seconds later ate its way down to the floor.

The warding it chewed up in its path flared once the curse came close, then were torn apart as it passed.

Interestingly, it didn’t seem to be mindless destruction as the warding that was left dimly lit and crossed the empty air where its walls and floors used to be, filling them back in so escape from the prison still remained an annoying impossibility. Still, the specific negating and defensive warding had been left disarmed. Present, but off for the moment.

When it coiled back around toward Grindelwald, the colour gradually faded from yellow to a red that manifested itself as less a colour and more of a feeling; a vicious, burning cold, in spite of the color. It detonated near him at an angle Calleo was decent enough to make sure would knock him back toward the parts of the room that still had a functioning floor.

In its wake, the curse left a seething, grasping cold that did not dissipate the magic did. Anyone that crossed the path it had taken would be aware of the lingering presence.

Now, Calleo needed some time to put some distance between them and see if he could figure out if there were actual creatures ��crawling’ in him or if it was an unsettling spell that wasn’t really causing any lasting damage.

The room, despite the violent removal of three walls, most of the roof, and half of the floor, remained dark.

That spell neither of them had moved out of the way. Yet.

Calleo knew full well how to end Braxford’s spell, but there was little fun in that. Instead, a swirling movement from his wand produced what would have been a spectacular Fiendfyre–if either of them could have seen it in the darkness. Being what it was, it was a certainty that they could both feel it, however.

Calleo didn’t stick around after the remainder of the room had been turned into a wall of black, magical flame, and disapparated, still running through anything he might know to counter what was, to him, unknown magic. If it weren’t so unsettling, he’d be impressed, but there would be time for being impressed by it later and after it wasn’t doing–whatever it was doing to him.

The door to the cell had, of course, been left opened and disarmed.

Blinded for that fraction of an instant, the old tyrant had fallen through to the stairway below, his shoulder and his hip coming down hard on merciless corners of stone; he bites back a swear now, and, as always, gets right back up again. Reactions not quite what they used to be, but that’s only to be expected.

The tower is broken, the walls are gone-

Not in decades has he breathed the night air without gasping out through the bars on a window narrower than the span of his hand like a man drowning.

They are gone-

Since he has known the bitter tang of this kind of cold, however, this particular taste of red that is more visceral than any mere word could ever tell you- that has been even longer still. The ringing absence that Excidium left in its wake, breathless and profound, was always something that could be felt in the teeth.

He never could have walked out that door of his own free will. Perhaps his new companion knew this. But either way, the choice has been made for him. The Blutmondhaarig have always been deliverers of fortune, good and ill; Grindelwald was all but ravenous with the thought of where this one might lead him, this one who bursts open the world when every way has been shut already.

His own curse is a lingering thing, line of sight or no; he can feel it as it does its good work. In former days, he had used it on hunts, and really this isn’t quite so different. It surges, carrying the sensation of strong fingers with their nails out sliding through muscle, through and through and all the way down to the bones, pressing deep and shoving apart. As it is, it makes movement difficult, but if he breathed another word it would have the power to render the clever Calleo Bricriu into something ready for a spit and a slow…

The Fiendfyre erupted spectacularly over his head, snatching the moisture from the air, from his mouth, from his eyes- but Grindelwald does not turn his face away, does not try to protect those parts of him that have grown so soft and brittle; he instead sets his teeth, seething through the broken gaps.

Lashing the wand whose old master’s handiwork this is, he captured the tail of the crackling, roaring beast, and draws it in. This he forges into coils of scorching rope, lurid and bright. His bony chest is heaving.

“Find him,” he tells it in a low hiss, and sends it firing off in the wake of an arrow that Bricriu ought to consider something of an old friend, if his writings are anything to go by.

The Skincrawl grows greedier, crueler, inner parts twisting and tugging and bleeding- until it finds its mark. Hungry tendrils snap tight around and bind him, ankle to ankle, wrist to waist, and the man is dragged down, down into the dark where Grindelwald stands waiting.

The chance that that fiery curse would harmlessly pass over him if he was dragged to the ground was…about at zero. There was a chaser on it, it would follow until it hit and a hit would be unpleasantly lethal.

Calleo had a split second to decide if he could maybe figure out a quick way out of whatever the unfamiliar spell trying to bind and drag him was or, while he could still move, at last knock the Sagitta Debilitatem off of the Fiendfyre; at that point, it might continue on it the direction it was going–and there was no guarantee he’d get that charm off of it before it had aimed itself properly at him.

Not really a tough decision, all things considered. He couldn’t fully move, but he could move enough to get that charm off the front of the curse and let himself fall to the stone floor as gracefully as possible–which really wasn’t very graceful at all, considering how little he could move.

The Fiendfyre itself hit and spread along one of the walls, burning through the warding and part of the alarm structure there. Wonderful! Except–not particularly.

Leaving that unchecked would be a problem, and was already causing the wards that hadn’t been burned out to regroup and rearm, again, focusing their aim on the prisoner they were designed to subdue.

He still had some movement in his hands, which he probably should have used to try and break himself free but, instead, he aimed it at those stupid wards that kept threatening to end the game as they weren’t quite smart enough to know that it was a game. They were reacting as they were designed, and as they were designed was inconvenient, Calleo shut them off.

They’d have to deal with the fire later as, now. Calleo couldn’t move at all, unless continued questionable decision making landed either of them on the idea of, “Hey, Ashwinders!”

Calleo had figured out, the moment whatever this was started doing what it was doing, that struggling against it would probably make it worse; no reason to think that beyond that was how these sorts of spells generally worked.

Most of them were a lot less unpleasant if you didn’t struggle.

So, he didn’t.

He let himself be dragged back to Grindelwald and, not wanting to let the other Wizard even get the slightest of ideas that this was over, “Too old to chase me, hm? I can slow down, if you’d like.”

Calleo knew damn well that was a stupid thing to say, which is entirely why he said it. He was more than aware that whatever was about to hit him would now likely be even worse than if he’d kept his mouth shut. For as much as the unpleasant spell binding him would let him, he relaxed; these things were always worse if one was tense, after all.

[tumblunni]

Ah, here’s the pillowsnake! It’s called Rashab, I totally forgot!

beware, like 40 paragraphs of long rambling about the game below:

I never realized how the naming schemes actually work. All the different variants of a particular genus share a name ending- Nushab is the weird 8 shaped long neck snake, Rashab is the super rectangular chubby one, and Mukshab is the sticklike one that just looks like a real snake but with the trademark weird head that this monster has. And then the sub-breeds of each sub-breed have a totally different naming scheme! Only the main Rashab is Rashab, the other three elementals are all something-moaj instead. And Nushabs are something-oots, and Mukshabs are something-mines. Its an interesting way to do it, though it’s pretty hard to actually figure any of it out ingame when all the pure sub-breed forms only appear as enemies and you’re gonna be fusing your own variations for your party. I think pretty much anything fuses well with the snakes, they look awesome with any texture! And when they fuse with bugs they can actually gain lil wings and look like Dunsparce!

OH OH OH and ALSO I love how monsters in this game actually grow up! Like, they dont evolve, they just grow up like actual animals! They have very very subtle model changes in size for the first 20 or 30 levels, to symbolise reaching maturity. Its hard to even notice it happening unless you compare save files! And often you’ll be fusing monsters rather than keeping them in your party for a long time anyway. So I’m glad that the Shabs have some of the more noticeable changes! Their baby selves start off looking a lot more similar, and they only gain their giant variation in body shapes when they’ve matured. (Though you can still tell what one its gonna become)

OH AND ALSO ALSO The shabs look even cuter in the concept art, yo!!! Ingame it maybe loses a bit of the appeal cos of the low resolution and how everything is textures rather than model detail. (A necessity considering how the fusion system works, yknow?) On the concept art their faces look less like an eyeless snake with dot patterns, and more like a snake with eight buglike eyes. ITS REALLY CUTE!! Thats why I said they look like leeches! Cos they have the super light coloured undersides and the three-pronged jaw and the bug eyes! They’re scaly big leeches! they’re leechly small snakes! THEYRE THE BEST OF MY TWO FAVOURITE LONG ANIMALS!!!!

OH AND its good worldbuilding but I’M SAD The shabs The shabs get the honor of being in the worldbuilding in A SAD WAY The basic MP restoration item is called a Shab Liquer :( Yeah, its nice to know that they thought about how these magical monsters might be a part of everyday life even outside of a battle setting. But its sad to think about how they’re killed and used in medicine! And you have to use hundreds of this medicine, there’s no way to survive without MP restores! I DONT WANNA MAKE MY SNAKE FRIEND A CANNIBAL Tho I do appreciate how the name Shab Liquer just implies a lot of worldbuilding on its own. Like, you don’t just know that they make a medicine from the snakes, its implied its quite literally a snake oil. Like, does that mean snake oil is an idiom for a totally reliable and true thing in this universe? And Liquer is just a rather archaic and fancy way to phrase it, it fits very well with the setting! But seriously WHY DO I HAVE TO FEED MY SNAKE BABY DEAD SNAKE BABIES TO KEEP THEM ALIVE

OH OH OH AND that reminds me of another Fucked Up aspect of the worldbuilding! Your most reliable way of gaining money in this game is selling the monsters you catch. Which is dumb and impractical anyway cos I mean YOU WANNA FUSE THEM ALL!! And you get more money from selling your ones that you actually already fused and levelled up, like NO WAY am I doing that! I love them!! Even if I’m not using them, I’m just gonna keep them at home with Mahbu! NO MAKE ME SELL MY SNEKS But the REALLY FUCKED UP PART is that its explicitely said that by selling them you are killing the monsters.

...Okay so.. this kinda needs some explanation of more of the worldbuilding first...

The way you catch monsters in this game is by using magical cocoons, hence the name of the story. Monsters are meant to be like spiritual creatures, they’re called Minions cos they’re literally the minions of this setting’s deity, Elrihm. The religion of this culture states that humanity (or ‘The Beasts Of Knowledge’) committed a great sin in the past. We were god’s attempt to grant free will and intelligence to animals, but we used it to do evil and he decided the whole species was beyond saving because of the actions of a few. So he created these monsters/demons/avenging angels in snake form, and their mission in life is to destroy all of humanity so that the world can be reset. Which is why minions attack humans on sight, yet coexist perfectly peacefully with animals and plants in the forest. So like... humanity obviously Did Not Want to all die for the sins of one or two dumb kings, yknow? We stubbornly persist! We hold out our vanguard and keep our little towns amidst the Doom Forests, living life as normal with just the Doom Forests being a thing in the background, yeah. Defending against occasional attacks of minions banding together into swarms and chewing on the walls a little, but yeah, no biggie. And sometimes one of them manages to get in and eat some of our garbage or something. People live normally in these fortified wall villages, and the religion still worships Elrihm, and revolves around begging his forgiveness and trying to prove that humanity deserves to live. And never advancing too far with industrialism. lest we be punished again! And I mean, maybe that actually IS how everything happened, or maybe its just a story and Minions have always existed as a natural part of the ecosystem and they’re not evil things destined to destroy us or whatever. Its ambiguous! Even when you get to see Elrihm’s avatar at the end of the game, it’s just a big magical tree that the monsters come from, you never get any idea if it’s sentient and you’re not able to ask it if our legends have the right idea about it’s role as god. (Or if its gender is actually male, or if it even has one XD)

Anyway, that’s the legend of where the monsters come from, and it kinda explains why people might be a bit callous towards them, if they can be tamed as cute friends but also the wild ones are such a big threat to civilization. And if mythology says their threat to civilization is the natural order of existance, that they exist to kill us under orders of a god who abandoned us centuries ago... But yeah! Anyway! There’s a bloodline of magical people called the Nagi who have the power to purify the anger out of minions and make them friends. And the game has a cool way of keeping the usual mons show aspect of ‘catch a monster inside a certain item that has a limited amount of uses’, while making it fit with this ancient times mythological setting! Instead of the pokeball equivelant being some sort of manmade machine, it’s... cocoons! Since Minions are spiritual creatures, they can be like.. de-manifested and have their souls stored, to be re-summoned later. And for whatever reason, the way the magic works is that their souls have to be contained in cocoons. It’s... actually never fully explained? Where do the cocoons come from? Is it like you take any cocoon from a regular bug, and you seal the monster soul inside? But how would you even get an EMPTY cocoon? Is there a special bug in this universe that makes cocoons not for metamorphosis? or do you like.. fuse the soul with the bug inside the cocoon, and thats why all the monsters in this game are inspired by bugs? But they have the same bug-inspired designs even when you find them in the wild before catching them. So is it like the Nagi magic can create magical cocoons and you use those? or is it like you dont actually carry the empty cocoons, you carry something or other that turns into cocoons when a monster is sealed inside it? the catching animation is very vague, the protagonist is only holding his magic flute and a nebulous white glow in his hand. Then the cocoon forms around the monster and its sucked into his hand... ANYWAY I’M GOING OFFTOPIC SORRY! The point is that Nagi people can purify minions into friends, fuse minions into new powerful forms and (probably?) create the magic cocoons that can catch them in the first place. But it doesn’t mean that Nagi people are actually equipped to fight and catch the monsters themselves! the usual setup is a married couple where the Nagi can stay at home and focus entirely on their magic, and the regular human partner learns warrior arts and catches the monsters for them. Also catching monsters requires magic music, so you need to be a damn good bard too! I liked that they even showed that different Cocoon Masters (official name for peeps like the protag) can use whatever instruments fit best with their soul. The protagonist has an ocarina and [important endgame character] has a fancy lute guitar thing? I wish the game had told me what those are called... I think a name for an ancient japanese string instrument is a shamisen but i have NO IDEA if the one shown ingame is actually that or there are more different ones..? I mean its only shown in cutscnes so there’s no good ref image for it- I’M GOING OFFTOPIC AGAIN Anywaaaaaayyyy, its also in the worldbuilding that (for some reason) Nagi men are unable to use magic, and thats why the mages are always the wives and the warriors are always the husbands. Its interesting how this mythology is kinda presented as an opposite of adam and eve, too! Men who try and use magic are sinful and will be punished for stepping out of their assigned roles by becoming demons. Its the sad story of the protagonist’s parents, alas! His mother was the previous Nagi priestess of the village, but her husband committed the ultimate sin and then all we know is that his corrupted self fled into the forest and was never seen again. And everyone marks you as a failure for what your father did, so becoming the new cocoon master is quite hard at first. And its SUPER DUPER SAD cos your dad did it because performing minion purification is painful for the Nagi, and he couldn’t bear to see his wife hurting herself for his sake. So even though he knew the risks, one day he just tried to purify his minions himself so she could get some rest. And.. like.. ultitmately it did work. Cos she could never bear to remarry, and thus the village didnt have another cocoon master until their son grew old enough to marry. At least he succeeded in letting his wife never have to do magic again, even if it was because she stopped doing it out of grief for him.. :(

ANYWAY Now i’ve explained that worldbuilding and why it is cool and awesome and sad, I can explain the worldbuilding of a random gameplay element and why it is also cool and sad! So yeah, like I said before LONG TANGEANTS... The only really reliable way to make money in the game is to sell your monsters. And it makes me feel SO BAD! Cos the game very much outright tells you that selling them is killing them. And I guess it makes sense cos I mean, only Nagi wife-husband pairs can actually summon the monsters, there’d be no point trying to sell living ones to anyone else. So, since minions are sealed inside cocoons, in order to sell them you spin their cocoons into silk thread. This village’s primary export is weaving, so you can sell these silk spools to the big ol building of spinning wheel people and make money to keep going on your journey. Apparantly silk infused with monster souls is higher quality and can grant various effects and stuff, hence its value. Its a shame they didnt make a crafting system with this! Instead its just a standard ‘more powerful weapons and armours appear at the shop as the plot advances, for no real reason’. I mean, wouldnt it have been cool if you could add your monsters’s particular resistances to your main character’s armour? i would feel less sad about betraying them so utterly if they could protect me from beyond the grave. BECAUSE SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO FUCKED UP Seriously! These monsters faithfully served you! You purified them of their anger against humans, and instead of taking that opportunity to love them and show them the good sides of humanity, you just kill them! You kill them after they gained free will! You specifically HAVE to give them free will in order to kill them! Poor babies... I mean seriously I know that animals have to die to provide humans with food and materials and stuff, this is just how society works. But there’s something so much more viscerally terrifying about imagining taking an animal and literally weaving its SOUL into thread, then wearing it! There’s so many metaphysical questions that need to be answered before you can even figure out how much pain they would experience! And like.. god.. even the way they do the gameplay is so.. even more sad. Like, you can’t just hand the monster to someone else and its implied that they kill them. You have to hit an actual button to turn it into a sellable item. You have to cull it yourself. The death blow is on your hands, even if someone else weaves its dead soul into a nice scarf... So yeah, I pretty much always deliberately play ‘hard mode’ on this game, and refuse to make any damn money. Well, I mean, you can still find items in forests and sell them, but its infinately harder that way. You really are supposed to be selling your monsters to progress. I SAY NO! Big ol giant interface option sitting there on the menu unused forever. I love my sneks. You will not take them!!!

Oh but MAN I do really like the moral ambiguity of this worldbuilding, aaaaa!! The whole setting is so.. like.. realistic. There’s the dark realities of life in an ancient times setting. They take care to establish how the society functions and what their main trading export is, and what role monsters play in a non-battley setting! And seriously even the lil Shab Liquer thing! The casual implication that other villages might have different industries with their captured monsters, and someone somewhere out there found a way to make this medicine out of snakes. it manages to imply a wider world even as you’re confined to this one single village and the long forest that divides it away from every other human settlement. Plus.. like.. I really like the ambiguity it gives to HUMANITY. That seems like the MOST realistic of anything! Seriously, the game starts off establishing that in mythology humans are said to be evil, that the creation myth says we’re living in a post-fall society as the corrupted form of what true humanity should actually be, that god has abandoned us and we follow religion because we have to prove ourselves good enough to regain our former status. Like.. seriously, its refreshing compared to how boring and samey a lot of fictional religions are! They’re often just copies of existing religions, or of the general most popular religion template of There Was One Or Two Creator Gods And They Made Humans And Humans Are Destined Important And Animals Were Made To Serve Us. Instead in this game humanity’s mistreatment of animals and the environment is our absolute sin, and the definition of holiness is to be more similar to animals. And big scary demon monsters are GOD’S HOLY CREATIONS, SENT TO PUNISH US! No stereotypes here! No corner-cutting bullshit stolen from real life religions! And then like.. its nice how ambiguous it makes humanity nowadays, even beyond the ambiguity of the mythology and history. Humanity is trying to redeem itself, humanity is following this religion worshipping the god that cast them down for being corrupted. But still, it shows that some people believe in this doctrine, and some people believe that the things that are ‘corrupt’ about us are actually good. Cos it shows how some people believe that like.. ALL progress is sinful, any sort of machine is sinful, any attempt to improve society or change on what’s traditional. And it shows how some people who believe this are the bad guys, and some people believe this in a way that actually makes sense. And similarly, some people who follow the traditional ways are good- like Mahbu and her grandma. But then there’s the village chief who just follows religion blindly and doesnt seem to actually understand what’s morally correct at all, he’s just like ‘if I do what I’m told, I’ll be freed!’ instead of getting the goddamn lesson. And he tries to pretend to be a reasonable authority figure at first but then he gets more and more corrupt as the game goes on. He’s the representation of how forcing our two heroes into an arranged marriage is a morally ambiguous thing, even though they actually were in love and would have got hitched anyway. They’re still way too young to get this destiny of being the only ones who can save the village, AND keep the economy alive by spinning poor lil monsters into silk! And then he keeps giving you more and more orders, and they go from the actual duties of a cocoon master into just fullfilling the chief’s own greed and paranoia. And its interesting that him and the vizier lady who represents ‘lets abandon the rules and do everything for the benefit of humanity’ actually end up teaming up in the end and becoming even more goddamn corrupt together. Excessive progress and excessive stagnancy are both evil, and honestly they both have very similar selfish motives! Tho I do think the only problem is that they put a bit too much emphasis on this whole ‘these two looked like reasonable authority figures but were really evil’ thing, and don’t have enough good people in the town representing the other side. So its harder to care about saving this place when its literally just your wife and your mom who represent the goodness of the human race. And like.. technically I dont want the asshole lil kid to die, cos even though he’s a jerk he’s too young to be 100% responsible for his own actions. Even if I dont like him as a person, I’d still rather wanna take him away from this trash town and hope he can get raised by better people...

But seriously goddamn THOSE FUCKIN ASSHOLE CHIEFTAIN AND VIZIER PEOPLE!! Even after me and mahbu just saved the city from a deadly disease, after like 12 hours of gameplay and three forests worth of fighting for my life against monsters, where I’m expected to have sacrificed like 30 monsters to feed their stupid fuckin silk industry, even after ALL THAT they show no gratitude! The opposite of gratitude! The chief is still paranoid of the Nagi people for being foreigners, even though they dedicate their whole damn life to leaving their families and going on journeys to settle down in different cities and give their power to protect un-magic humans. And they’ve been doing this for all of history despite persecution, and like.. they lost their home and now the only ones who exist are the nomads and various half-nagi children who’ve never seen anyone of their own race before and are losing all the culture. Mahbu is an orphan who was just found by her ‘grandma’ and raised here, the only other Nagi in the village are the protagonist’s mum and technically the protagonist is half Nagi. (Tho like I said, the worldbuilding is that men cant use the magic, so protagonist is classified as a regular human and would just pass it on if he had a daughter.) So seriously Mahbu is a GODDAMN ORPHAN who was raised here all alone and hated by the village even as a kid! And the protagonist was her only childhood friend cos he could understand the feeling of being hated for having this blood, so no wonder they ended up falling in love. And then their love is at risk cos they were forced into this political marriage when they’re really young, and now have to risk dying everyday to protect this town that still hates them. And they work so hard to prove they don’t deserve to be hated, they don’t even think ‘the town is assholes’, they think ‘this is my home and i love it and it must be my fault everyone hates me so i have to work harder’. And the game doesn’t give you any option to do otherwise!

And it progresses even worse than just not getting gratitude! After you save the village from the disease, the evil chief and vizier wreck the day that you just saved, by pulling their goddamn bullshit evil plan! The chief decides to cut down the god-tree because of his paranoia, the vizier decides to cut down the god-tree because of her greed. And like... GAHHHH but its SO GOOD cos its all moral ambiguity still! The evil duo are definately evil, but they get to be evil for different reasons. They represent the two darkest sides of humanity, and no matter how much you represent the light of the world you cannot change them just by passively obeying them and hoping they’ll react like goddamn rational people! But you can understand why the masses might be tricked into following them, yknow? Humanity has been living in this tough life for as long as human memory, and mythology says that we’re being punished for the sins of our ancestors and we’re just BORN EVIL even though we weren’t the ones who did that shit. So you have good reasons to be angry against god, even if the evil duo DONT have good reasons, and they’re not doing something that will actually help.

Anyway so yeah thusly they trick mahbu and the protagonist into helping them trap the god-tree so they can cut it down. Again its a lil annoying that the game doesn’t give you a choice, though! And they dont even bother writing it a bit more ambiguous so the player could be fooled too, its pretty damn obvious you’re being tricked yet the only way to progress the game is to keep going. So you accidentally end up casting the evil magic on the god-tree and its like HOLY SHIT NO! And as you run back to the town you cant get back in time to stop anything, and you just get to see cutscenes of what’s happening while you’re gone. The evil duo cross the line EVEN FURTHER by MURDERING MAHBU’S GRANDMA! Mahbu’s grandma is the BEST CHARACTER, you fucking fuckface! She was such a nice helpful mentor and one of the only people who genuinely treated you two like human beings even though she wasn’t related to you. And she tries to stop the evil duo from doing their evil plan, she tries to reason with them, and she even gets desperate enough to try and reason with them within their own logic. Even if they’re sacriligious and selfish enough to not care that they’re trying to kill god for personal gain, they should at least understand that their plan WON’T FUCKIN WORK, and they’re just gonna bring god’s wrath and ruin humanity’s only chance at redemption! You’re gonna lose all your goddamn money and power if you get bitchslapped by the heavens, dumbass! AND you;ll kill the rest of us too, who never did anything to deserve it! And they ignore all her attempts to be reasonable, and ritually sacrifice her to try and save their own asses once their stupid attempt to kill god backfires. FUCK YOU TWO, SERIOUSLY!

And then something I really like is the revelation of grandma’s backstory! Cos seriously, who exactly was this mysterious woman who found this orphan and rescued her from the forest? She wasn’t a citizen of this town, she just stayed here to raise Mahbu once the town residents acted like assholes and tried to kick the poor kid back out. It turns out that grandma is actually the mortal incarnation of one of the minor deities! She’s basically this world’s psychopomp. The evil duo were actually RIGHT when they said she was a demon in disguise, but NOT when they thought that she was the evil one and they were good. The psychopomp figure of this mythology is hated, but it seems to be that she gained that reputation because she disobeys Elrihm and tries to help humans. She saved this Nagi girl from dying like the rest of her people, and even bound herself in human form in order to try and redeem this town of jackasses. And even though she was part of their village for so long and did nothing but try and protect them, they still ultimately betrayed her... And it was a very vague plot element that was only casually mentioned here cos its Endgame Time and we have to move very fast now. But it was implied that the chief and vizier are the reincarnations of the original evil king and evil sorcerer who did the same sinful nonsense all those centuries ago to get humanity kicked out of god’s domain in the first place. I dunno if its just meant to be that they’re naturally stuck in a cycle of reincarnation as punishment for their sins? But I always liked to interpret it that psychopomp grandma chose to never take their souls, because no matter what they do to her she still believes that one day they might be able to be redeemed in their next life. I feel like maybe she’s gambling with god, she’s keeping humanity alive by holding this one last wager to prove that they’re worth saving...

And then spoily endgame stuff happens and ultimately the protagonist fullfills some ancient prophecy and calms god and etc and MAKES UP FOR THE BULLSHIT ADULTS RUINING ALL THE SHIT, SERIOUSLY And seriously i haaaate how abrupt and rushed the ending is, and how that in this abrupt rushed ending they had time to show that the trash town comes back to life but not show that Mahbu does! You’re told beforehand that she will, but like.. with how many times you get lied to in this game, it would have been nice to get some damn confirmation in the end. Plus seriously, I cant even be happy seeing the town come back! Thats not a very climactic ending! Seeing protagonist smooch his poor long-suffering girlfriend would be way better! Seriously SERIOUSLY everyone else fuckin died cos of their own fuckin fault cos they MURDERED A GRANDMA my nice sweet ETERNAL GRANDMA, the ANCIENT DEITY OF ALL GRANDMAS, the fuckin DEATH GOD SATAN FIGURE WHO SACRIFICED HERSELF TO BECOME A GRANDMA AND PROTECT US AND THEN THEY KILLED HER, AAAAA they fuckin deserved to all die and be frozen in stone unable to even find peace But Mahbu’s life was instead in danger because she used too much magic purifying monsters IN ORDER TO SAVE THE DAMN TRASH TOWN And after all that they had the goddamn gall to be ungrateful and just cause a second disaster and ask us to fix it again! THAT is why mahbu was gonna die! Because she was a good person who listened to your bullshit and tried to save you, and loved me, and just SERIOUSLY SO MANY EMOTIONS you repayed her by KILLING HER GRANDMA

And i mean seriously her form of death was quite literally death from being TOO HOLY AND MORAL. She wasn’t strictly ‘dying’, it was more like a death of personality, I guess? Becoming something holy and leaving this world, when she didnt want to leave you. Everyone called the painful Nagi markings ‘cursed’ and shamed her for it and made her cover them up so their poor goddamn eyes wouldnt be offended by having to look at them. And poor mahbu was worried her goddamn love of her life would be disgusted with her if he saw! So it was like.. simultaneously cathartic and sad to learn that tradition was wrong in this respect. That it was still a BAD THING, but it was holy markings instead of a curse. Nagi priests who succum to the ‘curse’ are just shedding their humanity as a reward for their service, because from Elrihm’s perspective this is a good thing. So Mahbu becomes a tiny fairy angel type Minion, and then its just sad and intense because soon she’ll lose the ability to speak and forget about you and grandma :( So you have to seal her inside a cocoon in order to halt the spread of the holy markings, and can only let her out to talk to her for very short amounts of time in case it starts up again. And then you have to face the gauntlet of the penultimate dungeon alone without the ability to fuse monsters, until you get through it and find the original Nagi hometown whose demise was greatly exaggerated. And then nobody there has any time for character development cos its endgame time, but seriously it was thematically really damn cathartic to walk through that door and see the place! And meet this actual good guy chieftain who actually finally answers some goddamn questions and helps you! Even if its super sad to have to do fusion with these new stranger shopkeeper twins, instead of the wife you’ve grown to love. And also SERIOUSLY just imagine how fuckin atmospheric that whole penultimate dungeon would have been if the player character got to have a voice! It was all atmospheric to me cos I got really into it and imagined it, but I wish it coulda been canon, yknow? I’m just imagining the poor protagonist dude fighting through this horrifying gauntlet all alone with his final team of monsters, struggling to keep up without any of the magical reinforcement they usually get, unable to restock the last few items he has left in his bag. Fuckin DESPERATE HORROR, fuckin having to sleep overnight in the forest for the first time, fuckin terrified. Fuckin.. clinging to the soul of his wife sealed in a cocoon, keeping it safe against all costs, fuckin wakes up in the middle of the night and just how terrified he’d be that he can’t find her, until he remembers what happens T_T And then like.. imagine him summoning her and only getting a few minutes to hold her tiny fragile fairy self in the palm of his hands, and strain to hear her quiet voice as it gets fainter and fainter, and she struggles to remember herself. Thats somehow EVEN SADDER than if you could actually use monster-Mahbu in your party to fight alongside you! (tho that would have been AWESOME) I felt so bad that after all the horror these two had to go through, we never get to see the happy ending they earned, and instead the game wastes time showing the trash town coming back and just... GAHHH

oh and also that is THE ONLY THING about the sequel that i agree is bad! I liked the sequel a lot! And.. I mean.. in theory its a very interesting concept to have the protagonist of the last game be this sadman morally ambiguous broken mentor man. But seriously fuckin hell give the man a break! They literally say that he got blessed/cursed with immortality cos he fullfilled the prophecy in the first game, so Mahbu died long ago and he desperately wants to die too. Thats such a fuckin sick thing to do to your protagonist! And I mean, he doesnt even look like the same person anymore, and so much about the gameplay and the setting and etc are wildly different so it doesnt seem like the same world in th future, why even bother trying to claim its the same world in the future... I mean even.. monsters come from eggs instead of cocoons now, and you cant catch them or merge them, only buy them in stores! Shoulda just made it a separate game and let it stand on its own merits, it would have actually succeeded. I love all the characters in JC2, there’s no problem of ‘man i dont wanna save these guys’, the only character I dont like is fuckin... SADMAN FORMER PROTAGONIST WHO WANTS TO DIE At least in the ending after spoily stuff he gets to pass away. But lets just say the spoily stuff spits on the poor man’s legacy even more, sheesh...

ANYWAY I FEEL A LOT OF EMOTIONS FOR PROTAGONIST AND MAHBU And this game has great worldbuilding and i love it even if the ending is rushed and you’re forced to fall for stupid villain assholes’s stupid tricks ok end of bunni’s rambling