#upside down shark radio
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Qué Maravilla CH.4
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Miguel O'hara x SpiderFemReader
rating: E for Everyone bby
warnings: none? lots of angst tbh
summary: everyone knows where Miles is. Now it's a matter of who will find him first .
art is not mine!!!! @shuploc !!!
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Ch.4 - Blood in the Water
Gwen Stacy found that everyone’s Spider Sense materialized differently depending on the person. Miles and Peter said theirs was like a voice in the back of head, a loud whisper that would urge them to “look out”, “duck”, or tell them when a civilian was in need of saving. You and Jess described it as more of an out of body experience. Kinda like a third eye aerial view or seeing yourself through a video game. But for her it was a rhythm. It was only natural since she saw her entire life through rhythm. It was the only way she could explain the world around her. She could find rhythm in anything. In the middle of a high-stakes battle with an enemy or in the hustle and bustle of Chelsea, New York. She could find it in the little things like the monotony of the subway, the crackling of a fireplace, the humming of a refrigerator, or the whirring of the fan overhead. She could even find rhythm lying in her bed at 2am after a long day's work of being spider woman and the open window was ushering in the whistling breeze while there was a T.V playing in the other room. With her stolen cop radio interjecting with its constant updates and the occasional car whizzing down the street, all while she can hear her dad loudly snoring in the living room. All these things on their own made a distinct rhythm and together they played an even stronger melody. All like their own individual instrument that would all work together to create a symphony. A symphony she could identify in anything and through that she could capture a feeling. That feeling was what she meant when she said ‘the rhythm’.
Her spider sense specifically felt like a really bad rhythm. Not bad in the sense of being off beat but bad in an unnerving way. Like the feeling of sitting in a doctor's office awaiting a diagnosis, seeing a shark fin while swimming in the water or staring down the barrel of a gun with your father on the other end. No matter how hard she tried, she could never put it into words. A bad rhythm was just that, it made you feel… bad.
It wasn’t all doom and gloom however, just like bad rhythms there were also good rhythms. As you could guess, good rhythms entail anything that gives off a positive feeling like a fun day at the beach, the applause after finishing a complicated gymnastics routine, or seeing a friend you thought you’d never see again. She rarely felt a good rhythm however, it’s why she opted to play the drums. She always wanted to emulate the rhythm she wanted to feel, the rhythm she wanted others to feel. And she was good at it. She found she could change the rhythm of a room with just a single drum solo, never failing to shift her fathers mood from despondent to cherry with a single beat. She could even change the rhythm of an entire anxious classroom or a rowdy cafeteria with a simple tapping of her pencil or the drumming of her fingers. She used to find joy in shifting the rhythm. That was until she lost her best friend Peter, things seemed to spiral after that. That was until the last time she played in her band. She got so emotional playing the drums that her, for lack of a better word, damaged rhythm bled through the music and she got kicked out. I guess when her life changed so did its rhythm. So did her’s.
She felt the bad rhythm standing upside down on the ceiling of Miles Morale’s childhood bedroom. It crept up on her like a poison slowly reaching all the vital points of her body. This was different, it was especially awful. Spider Sense usually urges you to take action, but this one locked her in place. For a split second she was paralyzed with dread and through that split second she gathered everything she needed to know. ‘He’s in the wrong universe.’
She dropped from the ceiling then carefully made her way to the door. Through the slim opening she can hear his parents' worried conversation. ‘I should talk to them, tell them how much he cares.’ She’s about to exit when she catches her reflection in the full body mirror. Her spider suit. I can’t let them see me like this. She scans the room until her eyes fall on Miles’s jacket. She shoots a web at the coat and quickly shrugs it on. ‘This will have to do for now, she thinks while examining herself in the mirror. She fiddles with the zipper for a second, ‘I’ll get this back to you myself Miles. I promise.’ She takes a deep breath and zips up the jacket before stepping outside to face his parents.
- - -
Jessica Drew sat outside Miles Morales apartment on her motorcycle. By order of Miguel, she was stationed here to keep an eye out for the boy. She’d figured it’d be an open and shut case. He’d obviously go see his parents if it was his father he was so worried about, it was only a matter of time before he’d show. She had the place surrounded with movement trackers, ready to alert her at a moment's notice of anyone who’d entered and exited the entire building. Yet here she stood for what felt like hours without as much as a pigeon appearing on her radar. She bit her cheek and took another lap around the block, intensely scanning her surroundings and constantly checking her tracking devices. Nothing. Something was off. Very off.
It wasn’t until the middle of her patrol when she finally received an alert. Her devices showed someone scaling the side of the building towards Morales's residence. ‘It’s not like anyone can climb walls,’ she thought to herself, ‘There’s only one person this could be.’ In one fell swoop she smoothly shifted her bike to 5th gear and sharply turned around, barelling full speed before skidding to a halt in front of the apartment. She planted her feet on the floor, looking up at the building with her mouth agape. There was a figure hovering next to the window, but it wasn’t Miles.
She watched as her protegee opened the window before entering the room. She had watched Layla disable the settings of her holowatch herself. Did she manage to override it? Did she somehow get her hands on another watch? She bit her lip in frustration. Perhaps she had mentored her a little too well.
Jessica quickly deployed one of her tracking devices through the open window and turned on the live camera feature. A small projection of the conversation taking place in the house emitted from her watch.
“I’m going to find him,” the girl said with her back to the two figures, “I don’t know where exactly, but I know where to start.” She moves towards the door before pausing, “One thing I learned from Miles, It’s all possible…He loves you more than you could ever imagine…I’ve seen it.”
She turns off the watch, instead turning her attention to the roof. In the next instant, the entire building was engulfed in a ripple of everchanging dimensional styles. At the center, a glowing orange doorway surrounded by a kaleidoscope of punk rock. A portal, no doubt and the work of Hobie Brown no less. Jessica sat upright on her motorcycle with her arms crossed, mindlessly tapping her finger on her forearm.
It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together. ‘He’s on Earth-42.’ They’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time. She should tell Miguel. She looked over at the holowatch residing on her wrist and found herself doing something she hadn’t in a long time, she hesitated.
When Miguel sent Gwen home she had called her a liability because of her attachment to Miles. That was still true, well partially. She had been neglecting the fact that Gwen wasn’t just a liability because of the boy, she was a liability because of her. In this moment she found she cared about her more than she realized, more than she cared to let herself admit.
“You never got too close to anyone?” she remembered the girl asking her in hopes for another chance to right her wrong with the Spot.
“I did.” she admitted to her, “But then I got over it.”
She rubbed her hand over her round stomach. “Damn kids,” she said softly to herself. She finally understood the affection Peter held for Miles. Maybe she would adopt her when this was all over. If it was even possible to adopt a child from another dimension, “You better not make me soft like this,” she spoke, pointing towards her pregnant belly.
She would tell Miguel, she decided, later. ‘You got one hour Gwen Stacy,’ she said to herself with a death grip on her forearms. ‘After that you cope with whatever comes next and I can’t help you.’ She set a timer on her holowatch before revving her bike and taking off into the night.
- - -
You land face first onto Miguel’s torso in a nondescript alleyway. The sudden impact with the pavement earned a groan from the both of you. You both lift your faces up at the same time, freezing the second you make eye contact with one another. His hands are still on your waist, and yours on his chest. You quickly scramble to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, he follows suit.
You brush yourself off as you scan your surroundings. “We made it…”, you say meekly, trying to rouse any positive emotion or acknowledgement from Miguel, however, his face sits in its titular frown, unamused.
“Yay?,” you weakly add, his expression remains unfazed, instead he just sighs and begins climbing the wall to gain a better vantage point, “You’re impossible you know that?”
“Me? How?”
“Because you don’t listen.”
“I listen…” you state defensively before reassessing your track record “... well, like 90% of the time, which is still an A.”
He removes one hand from the wall, leaving the other digging firmly into the brick so he can turn to face you below him, “Almost doesn’t count. This is why I wanted you to stay home.”
“Where I’m from they say almost counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” you informed him with a smug smile.
“Again, impossible.” Miguel resumes climbing until he reaches the top of the wall, then he pulls himself up the edge with ease. He begins to walk towards the view before stopping in his tracks, turning his head to the side until he sees you appear above the ledge. Only then does he face forwards and keep toward the skyline.
You stop just behind him watching his back as he takes in the city view. Before you can do the same, you feel your watch silently buzz against your wrist. You look down at the device to see a message from Gwen to the rest of the renegades: 'He's in the wrong universe. Earth-42. Go immediately. Make sure you aren’t followed.’
“Fuuuck.”
“Fuck is right,” Miguel responds. You quickly hide your hand behind your back, fortunately Miguel is still focused on the city, “All these people without a hero. Organized crime here is exponentially high”
“Yeah…It looks scary out there.” You speak distractedly, never taking your eyes off the message you're hastily crafting. ‘Already here. Looking for Miles. Miguel is here too.’
Perhaps you should’ve taken the time to elaborate more. Within the next instant you’re bombarded with an influx of panicked messages flooding your watch. Peter, Gwen, Pavitr and Porker specifically send one frantic message after another. The constant buzzing catches Miguel's attention.
“You alright?” Miguel questions you skeptically eyeing your holowatch.
You swiftly move to hide your hand behind your back once more, “Yep all good, ” you spit out, doing your best to put on a convincing smile. As he looks you up you can’t tell if that feeling in your stomach is because you’re worried or embarrassed. Probably both. Luckily for you, he returns his attention to the skyline, “This city is large, he could be anywhere. Our best bet is to start with his residence, but it’s also possible that he’s already realized he's in the wrong dimension and is on the lookout for the Alchemex collider…”
You do your best to multitask between listening to Miguel's rambling and calming your comrades. “So we should split up?” You suggest hopefully while attempting to type, ‘CALM DOWN. He’s with me. We found out at the same time.’
He turns around abruptly. You halt your typing hand midair over your watch. He eyes you suspiciously, “No. I can’t trust you to go out on your own.”
“Ouch,” You walk past him, this time with your back to him so you can send over your coordinates, 'Here's our location, we’ll find Miles together. Follow us. DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU.’
“Unless you promise to detain him until the canon occurs, if not that then at least until I reach the two of you.”
“Mmmhmm” you hum absentmindedly, all your focus now is towards the plan you’re concocting with your friends, ‘Be our extra set of eyes. If things get dicey, back me up.’
A surplus of what you hope are agreeing messages flood your watch, you don’t have time to read them before Miguel startles you with a hand on your shoulder.
“Sounds like a plan?”
“Plan? What plan?”
“So you weren’t listening, ” he lets out a frustrated groan before grabbing your wrist and pointing to the watch, “What are you doing, really?”
“Just…taking notes…” you stutter nervously. Just then your watch emits a message from Peter, ‘Whatever happens we’ll make it work.’
“Tomando notas mi culo,” he drops your hand and jabs a finger in your face “Why are you talking to Peter?”
“No reason, I just-” you rack your brain for a viable excuse, “I’m- I was just checking in on him.”
“Of course” he drops your hand with a scoff and begins to angrily pace back and forth “Of course you’re talking to Peter, now of all times. Why are you here if you aren’t going to take this seriously? What solace could you possibly find in PETER?”
“What’s wrong with Peter?”
Miguel knew better than to act the way he was right now, but he was finding he was having a harder time grappling with his emotions and succumbing to intrusive thoughts. You only saw Peter as a friend and Peter, of course, had Mary Jane. Any suggestion otherwise would probably end with you laughing in his face. But he saw the way you guys got along. Like two peas in a pod. How you guys had a similar sense of humor, the cultural references you shared between your universes, the way you would finish eachothers outlandish sentences. You guys were great friends to each other. He knew that. He also knew that you were comfortable around him, a way that you weren't with Miguel. Deep down he was always jealous of the rapport he had with you, but today, Miguel despised him for it.
“What's wrong with Peter? What’s wrong with you? I’m right here and you-” he abruptly stops talking, his look of envy replaced with pain. In the next instant he’s hunched over holding his stomach with a groan.
“Miguel. What the- are you okay?’ You immediately rush to his side.
“I’m fine,” he blurts out, resting his hand on the nearest wall for support. You move closer and grab a hold of his face in your hands. He’s hot to the touch and sweating bullets. “You don’t look fine.”
“It’s just- It’s the serum. I'll have to reinject. Soon.”
“Serum? What Serum?”
“Rapture…” A grim silence takes hold of the two of you. You knew Miguel’s origin story well. Partly because of how close you were, but also because of how unusual it was. Miguel was never bit by a spider. Before he became spiderman we worked at Alchemex, but soon quit after finding out their unethical business practices. Out of spite they injected him with Rapture, a highly addictive drug that can cause codependency for life after one use. With Alchemex being the only legal supplier they were essentially attempting to black mail him into reemployment. However, Miguel instead concocted a genetic procedure in attempts to restore his DNA. The experiment was sabotaged and Miguel was inadvertently gifted with a new genetic code. 50% man, 50% spider. The experiment also successfully rid him of his addiction to Rapture, or at least, that was what he told you…
“You’re still addicted?”
“Yes.” You stood in shock, Miguel however wore a look of shame.
“I didn’t want to tell anyone…” he spoke without returning your gaze, “When I’m off Rapture it makes me angry, irrational, violent. I see things that aren’t there. I- I don’t like who I am without it.”
“Miguel, none of us would’ve ever saw you differently. I’m glad you told me,” you plant a small reassuring kiss on his nose, causing his breath to hitch, “It means you trust me a little more than you let on,” you say with a smirk.
He rested his forehead against yours and whispered softly, “Thank you cariño.”
“Anytime O’hara.” You stood like that briefly before you finally let go. The both of you turn to face the city once more “So are you always off your serum or…?”
He chuckles and looks down at you with a smirk, “You’re not funny.”
“Really because Porker told me the other day that I-”
You’re cut off by the sound of distant crash and the blaring of several car alarms . You both turn towards the source of the sound and see a cloud of dust in the distance with a small group of civilians running away from its center. Debris from the explosion litters the area for what seems like miles.
“I didn’t just hallucinate that, did I?”
“No sir you did not.”
“At least we know where to start.”
“Way ahead of you.”
You make a break towards the explosion then pause when you don’t sense him behind you. You turn around and find him staring off into space with an uneasy look on his face, leaning against the same wall and once again holding his stomach.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to go back?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” he stands up “Just got a little light headed.
“I’ll go with you if that’s-”“-It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I can do this,” he quickly recomposes himself, shaking out each of his limbs “Let's just go.” Before you can interrupt he jumps off the side of the building and makes his way to the scene of the crime. You quickly take off after him, not wanting to get left behind. ‘This man is as stubborn as they come’ you think to yourself, swinging from structure to structure, ‘I just hope he doesn’t push himself too far.’
had to use google translate for the spanish in this chapter so if it's hot dookey plz let me know thanks
#miguel o'hara#astv#miguel o'hara x you#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader
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2m$ A Year For North Sea Rescue Job? 😱
We're moving out and we're rescuing a lot of people and we're pulling them off the deck and people laughing his antics two people came up to take pictures with a shark and he said we have some tourists on the deck and it's a deck and it was fun this is saying it's a rig but there's more going on and Charlotte county is gearing up for some changes
-the whole place is going to be turned upside down pretty soon
-is other things happening and yeah our son isn't sent to humor and then some people don't get it it was too much right away and again she said would you take my picture and you held his own phone up and he's laughing and she finally got it and he says just three smile and it didn't work and she got nervous and that was is what usually happens and Hera is laughing it might even Becca
-there's a huge number of people wondering what happened if they did something and created a monster and it's going down in history as a big fight and Brad is suffering and she is too and it doesn't pay to haunt our son like an a****** forever if you did nothing don't act like you did and their men are paying Sarah and the two girls and Trump was surgery they're going after him
-this morning news it's a big event the above. They're having a war with the pseudo empire and they're starting s*** with the max big time and they're going to get their asses kicked that's what the Mac said and they will decide happened before and huge forces okay this time we anticipate by estimate by the language on the radio and the numbers possibly about 5% of the general populace and out of 25% 5% of the populace would be 5% of the 25% because that 25% is out of the general populace. And scheduled for petrol and wise asses and he almost got clocked cuz we're going to help and he would have been real surprised they're trying to kidnap me cuz they're having problems because they're stupid they're going to pull Trump out by his years and he says he knows about what happened with Melissa and Jennifer and Colleen and he is going to be in a lot of trouble and these guys are too and they've been s**** and assholes for years and it's going to be fun he says watching them fall cuz he keep doing it to him don't trip Jason you can get hurt and that's all you got and he's starting to get something it's not fun a bunch of false alarms but not for long the Mohawks start losing minority will come after you too some are and for the secrets and they have a wonderful way of talking. You set them up and said they hit people with machetes and all sorts of other stuff so that's going on and there are other things but we'll publish
Thor Freya
Olympus
Zues Hera actually I feel much better now this is much better and you're trying to get it out and they said okay good idea it's working and let's hope things straightened out this is a disaster I even rather have you been working at something part time but wow this is terrible
We have several jobs in mind and we can pay cash and it's really a ridiculous place and they do it all the time and she paid cash and you leave and that's it and really how they going to know and they won't really it says you go to Walmart and you get a card and Walmart they don't hold the money it's true too sometimes usually they put in the drawer.
We do have ideas like that and it makes it hard for them when they put it in the drawer they can't mess around with it
Ben Arnold
Olympus
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CHRISTOPHER BINGHAM (BING) INTERVIEW 2018! | Upside Down Shark Radio
We sat down with Christopher Bingham (AKA Bing) ahead of his appearance at Playlist Live 2018 to talk life as a content creator, artists you should be listening to and why Victorians are the WORST.
Confused? So were we.
WANT MORE BING!?
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/slomozovo/
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Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bing
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Listen to Upside Down Shark Radio!
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/upside-down-shark-radio/id1303211521?mt=2
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TuneIn Radio: http://tun.in/tiqUO6
We interview cool people: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxfxYfCNN1kVNkCpGFWGz40MYP4Yt11MY
Make sure to check out Craig & Co. on the Upside Down Shark network: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxfxYfCNN1kXerDSfAWLqZ3VN-ioHZ7eE
Like trailers? We break them down in Trailer Takedowns: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxfxYfCNN1kX2d1QnONafB5Vly4BGgGyI
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Want to be on the show? Let us know!
Twitter: https://twitter.com/UDSradio
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/upsidedownsharkradio/
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https://upsidedownshark.com
Intro music: "The Vagtastic Voyage" by Mexicofallz
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Who are we?
We are Craig, Paul & Tom, and together we are Upside Down Shark.
We get together every week to talk about the goings on in pop culture, what we've been up to and generally have a chinwag. We also have our creative friends on to talk about their projects and hobbies, so we sound cooler by proxy!
Expect film, music, comics, art, books, wrestling and a whole lot more!
#upside down shark#upsidedownsharkradio#upside down shark radio#upsidedownshark radio#bing#christopher bingham#bingradio#slomozovo#hit with wrench#high five spaceship#interview#podcast
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In The Shallows...Part One.
Summary: @hanji-is-life more merman!Bakugo and so I shall provide! I was hoping to get this out much earlier, back in may because MerMay but better late than never I suppose! You, a marine biologist, take a scuba dive to see the local fauna off coast and you find more than you ever could've bargained for...
Word Count: 1.5.
Warnings: None but minor curses, mentions of the ocean, an illusion of drowning. Viewer discretion is advised at least.
How did you manage this?
You hadn't walked on the beach, much less roll around in the coarse substance. So how did it manage to get into your pockets? This was a new jacket so how?
A short walk from the parking garage to the pier was all it was, no beach travel involved yet it had wormed its way into your pockets, in between your toes and nearly everywhere else.
Your team chuckles at your discomfort finding your squirming the funniest thing on the planet as they loaded up the sizable vessel for the day on the water. For the past several weeks you had been cooped up in a lab studying the samples others brought to you but now you were given the green light to head out into the field yourself. Your goal for the day was to gather samples, check on the status of the coral nursery, and a checklist of other menial tasks. A full plate all things considered, much better than getting a migraine staring through a microscope at sea water until you either give up or get sent home.
Waves battered against the hull of the boat while you and your fellow colleagues suit up in scuba gear. The goal wasn't to go to the bottom of the ocean, far from it, fifteen meters was the maximum for today so simple snorkeling hear wouldn't cut it. You didn't get your diving certifications to be stuck in a lab. The salt spray refreshing against your skin for the few seconds it was vulnerable while you changed from your outfit into the designated wetsuit. Not the full suit that covered your body from head-to-toe, just a body one to keep your core warm when your swimsuit didn't offer much protection.
The boat came to a stop right around where the GPS locator dinged where the nursery site was and the captain gave everyone a thumbs up as you and your fellows attached their fins, tanks, SPG's and all the other necessary equipment. One-by-one each of them held their regulators to their mouths and fell back into the blue ocean below until it was your own, to which you received a wink instead while everything turned upside down.
Ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred. Regardless of how many dives you've had you'll never get over the beauty of the reefs. Each time serving something new, change was ever present in your line of work. Never seeing the same specimens twice to witnessing a rare species and everything in between. The sunshine overhead casting glittering ripples on the sandy floor, catching your eye on the schools of fish that swam by as their scales gleamed in different patterns. This was the closest feeling you had ever come to your childhood dream of becoming a mermaid. When you wished on your birthday candles and shooting stars to holding your breath underneath tub water in hopes gills would magically appear. That's what started this career. Maybe it was a long forgotten portion of your evolved brain from life's time in the ocean but you felt at home, a familiar sense of belonging that you didn't have on dry land. This was where you were meant to be but sadly your wishes had never come true and you were cursed to remain a land-dwelling mammal.
The beeping in your ears ripped you from your fantastical daydreams to remind you of the harsh reality. This is as close as you were going to get but that wasn't so bad, it was better having a little than nothing at all. Looking at the gauge meter it showed that you have roughly an hour left of oxygen which meant you had been in the water for an hour already. How time flies when you're having fun, absorbed in your daydreams, and checking on coral and taking samples.
"Hey, could we switch our tanks out without getting oxygen narcosis or are we screwed in that department?" Your voice came over the radio built in the full face masks everyone in the diving team used no doubt scaring those who were lost in thought as you just were.
"Y/N...do you really want to stay out here longer? Shitting Christ, you should be glad you're out here in the first place!" The captain's voice responded from the safety of the boat. "Now get your asses back up here n' we'll head on ba-...what was that?"
"What was what?"
A chorus of responses chimed in immediately after, some crackling from the distance they were from the source and others sounding as if they were a foot away.
"Nothing, never mind, must've been a Manta Ray. Forget about it. Just get your shit and come back, I'm gettin' hungry and its close to lunchtime so hurry up." The static cut off as he put down the radio and looked out into the churning ocean. The massive shadow he had just seen passing by the boat putting him on alert, he didn't want to witness any reef shark's feeding frenzy.
"We can come back tomorrow, Y/N. Nothing's stopping us from that, right?" Another voice, one of your favorite colleagues suggested. That was right, you were there and your boss hadn't explicitly said that this was a one time thing. Another visit would do some good to see if the biometrics have changed in a span of twenty-four hours.
"Alright, okay, we'll come back later for a differential test."
The group had a collective sigh of relief. You were notorious for loving the ocean to such a degree you'd do anything to stay in a while longer, they were all content with leaving now and coming back later if it meant they wouldn't see your sad pouting all the way back to the van. Picking up their equipment and vials everyone began swimming back to the boat now most of them making small talk and discussing their plans for the weekend while you were once again lost in your thoughts.
Something impossibly dark darted through your vision. Blocking out the beautiful view of the turquoise water and colorful life like an angry, ominous storm cloud. A blanket of blindness shrouding all light for a moment but it felt like an eternity as dread sunk in the pit of your stomach, anchoring you to the spot. The warm water now felt cold, goosebumps running up your bare arms and thighs like pinpricks. The heart that had been so calm in the home of your ribcage now pushing adrenaline through your bloodstream, adjusting to a state you weren't acting on. Fear. That wasn't a Manta Ray or a comically large Stingray that was something else entirely. A predator that crashed against the fragile cage of safety, security and believing you were untouchable in shallow depths.
You were reminded of the psychologically scarring and irrational fear of one's ankles being grabbed particularly in the ocean by a shark, the part of your lizard brain firing signals all across your synapses to detach the leg. If only. A fair trade, being left alone at the price of a limb but unfortunately humans couldn't detach or regrow whatever they lost.
That fear was horrifically evoked when something far more firm than a limp leaf of seaweed wrapped around your ankle. Slimey, cold as death and tipped with five sharp points. Reminiscent of a hand, a very large hand. Expanding across your bare skin like a calloused cuff that threatened to break the skin, sink into the meat and tear your foot off entirely. However, that didn't seem to be happening. No cloud of your own blood instead the safety of the boat got further and further away, turning into a speck barely seen in the shallow water.
"Wait, wait no! What the fuck?! Let go! What the hell?" When your brain managed to get over its fear and shock of the situation your fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear and your body began to thrash around against the hold. If it was a shark hitting it in the snout and eyes was imperative to get it to release but what if it wasn't? What else could possibly have your leg in its grip with a goal of pulling you away from the boat?
A flurry of indistinguishable voices and noises came over the radio. From yelps, screams and to curses but the thudding in your ears and the furious splashes drowned them all out, everything became topsy turvy, what was the bottom of the ocean and what was the surface became an abstract concept. The primal urge to escape was ripped away when the respirator giving you oxygen was unceremoniously and harshly ripped from your mouth, the hand that had done it orange and black. The water was salty, like you had dumped an entire container of table salt into your mouth and you washed it down with a sip of water. It was invasive, slipping down your throat into your lungs as they tried to gulp air instead. The more you inhaled the harder it was to move. Your limbs becoming as heavy as cement bricks. Unconsciousness began to consume everything, your body down to your mind. The eerie sensation of falling was the last thing before everything faded to black...
#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#mer!au#merman!au#merman!bakugo#tw:discretion is advised#tw:fear#tw:ocean#tw:water#tw:scary situation
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Grey’s Anatomy Prompts
I’m going a tad stir crazy, so I decided to make a prompt list of 80 Grey’s quotes I love. This may have been done before but I don’t care. It’s mostly angsty prompts and it’s long as hell. (Break at 15)
1 “When I met you, I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the boys, and all the bars, and all the obvious daddy issues, who cared? Because I was done. You left me. You chose Addison. I’m all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke.” —Meredith Grey
2 “Don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. He’s very dreamy, but he is not the sun—you are.” —Cristina Yang
3 “Your choice, it’s simple: her or me? And I’m sure she’s really great. But I love you. In a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me.” —Meredith Grey
4 “If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there.” —Mark Sloan
5 “It always feels like there is just one person in this world to love. And then you find somebody else, and it just seems crazy that you were ever worried in the first place.” —Lexie Grey
6 “Don’t let fear keep you quiet. You have a voice, so use it. Speak up. Raise your hands. Shout your answers. Make yourself heard. Whatever it takes, just find your voice, and when you do, fill the damn silence.” —Meredith Grey
7 “Not everyone has to be happy all the time. That isn’t metal health. That’s crap.” —Meredith Grey
8 “Breakthroughs don’t happen because of the medicine. Real breakthroughs happen because someone is scared to death to stop trying.” —Derek Shepherd
9 “We don’t get unlimited chances to have the things that we want, and this I know. Nothing is worse than missing an opportunity that could have changed your life.” —Addison Montgomery
10 “And if you can't do it, if you aren't willing to keep looking for light in the darkest of places without stopping, even when it seems impossible, you will never succeed.” —Amelia Shepard
11 “Oh screw beautiful! I’m brilliant! If you want to appease me, compliment my brain.” — Christina Yang
12 “You were like coming up for fresh air. It's like I was drowning and you saved me.” — Derek Shepard
13 “The only time I don't feel like a ghost is when you look at me, because when you look at me, you see me. You see me. This is me.” — Owen Hunt
14 “It's good to be scared. It means you still have something to lose.” — Richard Webber
15 “You are my person. You will always be my person.” — Christina Yang
16 “It doesn't matter how tough we are. Trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up. But maybe that's the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all that is what keeps us moving forward. It's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up.” — Alex Karev
17 “Please, don't chase me anymore, unless you're ready to catch me.” — Callie Torres
18 “Change … we don’t like it, we fear it. But we can’t stop it from coming. We either adapt to change, or we get left behind. It hurts to grow. Anybody who tells you it doesn’t, is lying. But here’s the truth: Sometimes, the more things change, the more they stay the same. And sometimes, oh, sometimes, change is good. Sometimes, change is … everything.” — Meredith Grey
19 “Intimacy is a four letter syllable for- here’s my heart and soul, please grind them into a hamburger and enjoy. It’s both desired and feared. Difficult to live with, impossible to live without” -Meredith Grey
20 “You can have the worst crap in the world happen to you and you can get over it. All you gotta do is survive.” -Alex Karev
21 Walk tall. All you can do is be brave enough to get out there. You fought. You loved. You Lost. Walk tall.” -Mark Sloan
22 "Just because people do horrible things, it doesn't always mean they're horrible people."-Izzie Stevens
23 "I am woman. Hear me roar." - Miranda Bailey
24 "I love everything about you. Even the things I don't like, I love. And I want you with me. I love you and I think you love me too. Do you?" -Jackson Avery
25 “If you want crappy things to stop happening to you, stop accepting crap and demand something more.” -Cristina Yang
26 “You didn't love her! You just didn't want to be alone. Or maybe, maybe she was good for your ego. Or, or maybe she made you feel better about your miserable life, but you didn't love her, because you don't destroy the person that you love!” - Callie Torres
27 I am not an ugly duckling. I'm a swan."-April Kepner
28 “Okay, here it is, your choice... it's simple, her or me, and I'm sure she is really great. But Derek, I love you, in a really, really big 'pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window', unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me.” - Meredith Grey
29 “I’ve had to give up things but what I’ve learned is that I don’t need much. I don’t need much to be happy.” -Arizona Robbins
30 “I need the day off. For drinking.” -Addison Montgomery
31 "It turns out sometimes you have to do the wrong thing. Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful, but they're the only way to find out who we really are." -Denny Duquette
32 “In the beginning everyone is there, but then they forget.” - Amelia Shepherd
33 "Knowing is better than wondering. Waking is better than sleeping, and even the biggest failure, even the worst, beats the hell out of never trying." -Meredith Grey
34 “You have to go back to the beginning to understand the end.” -Teddy Altman
35 “Yeah we’re friends…I mean right now I’d probably say you’re one of my best friends.”-George O’Malley
36 “I’m just gonna feel bad that I made it so you can never love again” -Jo Wilson
37 "The future is the home of our deepest fears and our wildest hopes." -Owen Hunt
38 “There’s a land called passive agressiva, and you’re their queen” -Derek Shepherd
39 “Let’s play a game of whose life sucks the most. I’ll win. I always win.” -Meredith Grey
40 “I take things personally. I get emotional.” -Lexie Grey
41 “Stop looking at my like that. Like you’ve seen me naked” -Meredith Grey
42 “Pretty good is not good enough, I want to be great.” -Cristina Yang
43 "Don't let fear keep you quiet. You have a voice so use it. Speak up. Raise your hands. Shout your answers. Make yourself heard. Whatever it takes, just find your voice, and when you do, fill the damn silence." - Meredith Grey
44 “Let’s just make-out on the couch.” -Nathan Riggs
45 "Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop." -Meredith Grey
46 “Deal with your jealousy. Deal with your shortcomings. Don’t put your crap on me.” -Stephanie Edwards
47 "I know I'm not a lot of things that you've gone for in the past - I know, but I would never leave you. I would never hurt you. And I will never stop loving you.." -George O’Malley
48 “Sometimes you have to be a shark.” -Lucy Fields
49 “Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m damaged goods. I’m still me. I’m still here.” -Adele Webber
50 "More tequila. More love. More anything. More is better." -Meredith Grey
51 "More tequila. More love. More anything. More is better." -Meredith Grey
52 "For a kiss to be really good, you want it to mean something. You want it to be with someone you can't get out of your head, so that when your lips finally touch you feel it everywhere. A kiss so hot and so deep you never want to come up for air. You can't cheat your first kiss. Trust me, you don't want to. Cause when you find that right person for a first kiss, it's everything." -Alex Karev
53 "You can't be an ass to me all day and then expect me to give you respect." - Lexie Grey
54 “Some days, the whole world seems upside down. And then somehow, and probably, when you least expect it, the world gets right again.” -Meredith Grey
55 “Shut up. Dance it out.” -Cristina Yang
56 “We may only be together five minutes every two months, but when we do we will savor every second. We know how valuable those five minutes are.” -Ben Warren
57 “There comes a point when you have to suck it up and stop whining and start living” -Callie Torres
58 “Please don’t give up on me. Promise. Promise me you won’t.” -Arizona Robbins
59 “Bad things happen, but you have to move past it. Leave it behind. The sooner, the better. Or it’ll eat away at you and stop you from moving forward.” -Miranda Bailey
60 “This is the way the world changes. Good people, raising babies right” -Catherine Avery
61 “The problem is we are human. We want more than to just survive. We want to love.” -Lexie Grey
62 "There's a club. The Dead Dads/Moms/Parents Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss... My dad/mom/parent’s died when I was AGE. NAME, I'm really sorry you had to join the club." -Cristina Yang
63 “I’m going to die because these people aren’t properly trained” -Derek Shepherd
64 “I believe if you were dead, the world would be a better place” -George O’Malley
65 “You think you broke me, NAME? You’re the one who put me back together.” -Mark Sloan
66 “I want so much for you. For both of us. So much more than this. More than being stuck with someone who feels stuck. I want you to feel free.” -Callie Torres
67 “Every kiss before the right kiss doesn’t count anyway” -Derek Shepherd
68 “The expected is what keeps us steady. It’s the unexpected that changes our lives forever.” -Meredith Grey
69 “Promise that you’ll love me, even when you hate me.” -Meredith Grey
70 "The problem is, fairytales don't come true. It's the nightmares that always seem to become the reality." -Meredith Grey
71 “How are you fine? How are you just completely fine? I am ruined, okay? I am dead, I am wrecked." -Cristina Yang
72 “I didn’t like teenage girls when I was a teenage girl.” -Cristina Yang
73 “So you fight. Until you can’t fight anymore.” -Amelia Shepherd
74 “Don’t analyze everything. Just do it.” -Alex Karev
75 “Some lies aren’t lies. They’re love.” -Meredith Grey
76 “That’s where love exists, in delusional fantasies.” -Meredith Grey
77 "Friends are the family we choose." -Meredith Grey
78 "Don't ever date a man who can't handle your power." - Meredith Grey
79 "It’s not hard. It’s painful but it’s not hard. You know what to do already. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be in this much pain." —Miranda Bailey
80 “You’re my heaven. But maybe ... maybe I’m your hell.” — Denny Dequette
#grey’s anatomy prompts#grey’s anatomy quotes#dialogue prompts#writing prompts#meredith grey#derek shepherd#callie torres#mark sloan#christina yang#lexie grey#miranda bailey#richard webber#denny dequette#george o'malley#alex karev#long post
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Aqua Teen Hunger Force #35: “The Shaving” | October 26, 2003 - 11:45 PM | S03E15
In this Halloween episode, a monster from the Aqua Teen’s attic comes down and introduces himself. His name is Willie Nelson, and just like Old Kentucky Shark, he’s been there this whole time. Wait-- Willie Nelson... Old Kentucky Shark... wow, if this was a David Lynch movie we’d find out they were some kind of other-worldly manifestation of the other one or something like that. Anyway, he’s a pretty tepid monster, and Shake takes on a Hitch-like role, trying to get him to live up to his full monstrous potential. What this means is he’s basically trying to goad him into scaring/murdering Carl.
This one is wonderful, and I’m not just saying that because it happens to have Tom Scharpling for a guest star. Tom Scharpling is the voice of Willie Nelson, at the time he was a cult radio personality on WFMU. His popularity is cult-like to this day, but when this aired you either had to live in the New York City area or be willing to download RealPlayer to your computer to listen to him. Now he’s a highly-respected figure in the comedy world. He was a fucking guest star on the Simpsons for fucks’ sake. This was actually my first exposure to him. The often-mentioned Kon pointed me towards a couple interviews he did with Dave and Matt on The Best Show on WFMU:
June 18, 2002 / January 7, 2003
Sorry for being imprecise; you’ll have to scrub through the shows if you wanna find the actual parts where they call in. But this piqued my interest in the show, which for some reason I thought was internet radio being done out of a guy’s house, and that the kid on the show, Petey, was Tom’s son. But I kept learning about the show more and more and by the summer of 2005 I was an extremely regular listener, even going through the entire WFMU archives obsessively. I remember days where I listened to five 3-hour long shows in a row.
This episode is wonderful, not just because of Tom Scharpling, and not just because it’s a Halloween episode. Those two things do matter, though. This one is wonderful for the stupid little character dynamics playing out, yielding all kinds of wonderful moments. Carl and Meatwad inexplicably getting sorta tight is so great. And there’s a lotta funny lines, too. I laughed hardest at Shake describing the modus operandi of your typical slasher villain being especially brutal towards women, because “they have the organs that you wish that YOU had!“.
Anwyay, this episode is great. Tom Scharpling is great. His book came out earlier this year: “IT NEVER ENDS”. Check it out! It’ll make you squeal.
MAIL BAG
Look! REAL MAIL! From harmony-karmany:
I can't imagine the writers block you will inevitably face when you get to Robot Chicken. How is it even still going?
Oh yeah, Robot Chicken is fucking dreadful. The first show on Adult Swim that I REALLY hated. Felt like it was an afront to what Adult Swim once was. I still can’t stomach it. At least with that I can try to assign a best sketch (least-worst sketch) and worst sketch, maybe? But part of me hopes I’m dead by then.
When are you gonna get to The Big O
NEVER
If a large bird flew into your home, turned your life upside down, smacked you around, and your cat just sat there licking it's paw would you punish your cat?
My cat is eternally punished for not kissing me back when I kiss her on the lips. I would catch and eat the bird in front of her.
If someone says Horatio Sanz one more time I'm gonna fucking scream!
Don’t worry! There are no more Horatio Sanz messages
I work for Seth Meyers (I know, its not a good show, but the pay is great) and Seth says Horatio is a stand up guy and is being railroaded. He's pretty trustworthy as far as bosses go. Anyway the lawyers for the supposed victim have been astroturfing anti-Sanz stuff everywhere even on tumblr so watch out! And use this hastag #IBelieveHoratio at the end of your writeups if you want to help out. Okay I gotta go do a Taliban parody for Seth. Should be fun.
Sorry, I forgot about this one. What is taliban
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newfragile yellows [1042]
“Just once,” Kaaras groans, knuckles turning white as he grips his seat, “Just once, I wish the planet I’m sent to do initial research on turns out to be not terrifying and out for blood. I always get the murder planets.”
“Well. This one doesn't seem to be outright bloodthirsty at the very least,” Ellana says, fingers flying over the controls as she swiftly navigates them out of reach from the giant trees that are trying to trap them on the ground. “It just seems lonely.”
“The entire plains was just a ship graveyard that got grown over,” Kaaras says. “The entire planet’s ecosystem is a living neural network. It is, essentially, its own organism.”
“Aren’t all planets their own organism in their own way?” Bull points out. “Also, not to be a back seat driver — “
“Whatever you’re about to say,” Ellana cuts in darkly, “Rethink it. Right now.”
“ — but you’re cutting it a little close with some of these turns,” Bull continues. Either the man doesn’t care about the welfare of his relationship and his continued wellbeing, or — well. There is nothing else it could be. That’s the only reason he could have for daring to tell Ellana Lavellan, ace pilot, that she’s cutting it too close.
“What, are you going to fly the ship instead?” Edric snaps from his own seat, eyes rapidly flicking from his console to Bull and back again as he quickly shoots at a few more branches that are getting too close for comfort. “Don’t piss the pilot off.”
“What’s she going to do? Kill us all out of spite?” Herah points out from the station across from Edric’s. She’s also working on shooting at branches.
“Both of you shut up and focus,” Ellana says, “Kaaras if you need to throw up I suggest you don’t because I may have to turn us upside down.”
“We should have the Inquisition invest in those new ships where the cockpits are semi-detached so they always stay the same direction no matter who you turn,” Edric says.
“We’d break it within the week,” Herah retorts. “Even with Ellana piloting it, we’d probably end up having to sacrifice it after flying into a volcano to avoid some kind of giant angry alien space shark.”
“You’re going to give me nightmares,” Kaaras moans. “Because with my luck I’ll be on that ship being chased by angry space sharks.”
“There are no such thing as space sharks,” Ellana says.
“There’s space whales though,” Bull points out, “So maybe there are space sharks.”
“You don’t even believe in space whales!” Ellana snaps. “Can everyone focus on helping me get us out of here? Bull, please tell me you’ve figured out how our coms signals are being jammed.”
“Not even close,” Bull answers.
“Well,” Ellana grinds out, “I hate to be a back seat coms officer then — “
“Can you two have your spat when we aren’t in the middle of being hunted down by an entire planet?” Edric interjects before the two can really et into it. “Unless that’s what really helps you two focus and do your jobs, then in which case go for it.”
“Maybe we should just fly in silence?” Kaaras suggests. “Some nice, tense, afraid for our lives silence where no one antagonizes anyone else? Ellana can focus on being a wonderful pilot. Bull can focus on trying to get an SOS signal out. Edric and Herah can focus on helping us not get eaten by a planet. And I’m going to ruminate on the fact that I’m a cursed space explorer who’s only able to explore planets that have a penchant for murder and violence.”
“Kaaras, you miserable sack of proteins,” Herah groans, “You’ve only been to two planets that turn out to be graveyards.”
“I’m two for two,” Kaaras says, “We’re in space! Possibilities are infinite and endless! The chances of me getting two murder planets is statistically regrettable!”
“Two’s a coincidence, a third is a pattern,” Bull says.
“I’m not risking a third,” Kaaras exclaims, “Are you insane? Planet one was full of moving salt pillars that targeted heat. Planet two is currently trying to trap us on the ground to absorb us into its topsoil as fertilizer. I’m not going for three in a row! As soon as we get back I’m going to tell Evelyn I’m never going down again. I’m only going to planets that we’ve confirmed are safe. I won’t go down for the second exploration phase. Maybe the third of fourth.”
“Kaaras, you’ll never get a good discovery that way,” Ellana points out. “Also, I’m about to do something incredibly risky so everyone brace yourselves. We may or may not get clipped.”
“Delightful,” Edric grimaces, “As if we weren’t already in the middle of one giant risk.”
“It’s not a risk, Edric. We’re in the middle of a fucked up escape,” Herah corrects. “It’s a risk if we think it could go either way. We know the planet wants to eat us. Risk implies we could still back out of that. Now we’ve got to get the fuck out of dodge.”
“I’ve figured out what’s jamming us,” Bull says. “The planet, this close to the surface and surrounded by all the things connected to it, creates a field of — I dunno. Brain waves? Something like that. It jams almost every frequency. You’d be lucky to get a short wave radio to work down here. Also real lucky that none of us got a chance to leave the ship otherwise we’d be fucked trying to find each other again.”
“Delightful,” Ellana mutters. "Can you work around it?”
“We’d have to be out of reach of the trees,” Bull says, “By which point we’d be home free so I doubt it’d be as urgent.”
“Do you think anyone’s noticed we’ve gone radio silent yet?” Herah asks. “Because if they send another party down here to try and find us and we just miss each other I’m not doubling back for them.” Herah pauses. “Well. I would, if asked, but I'd be complaining the entire way.”
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Alastor Interview
Part 1: “I’ll Steal The Limelight!”
On a TV screen, the 666 News logo appeared in neon outlines. A skeletal blonde woman was sitting at a desk, wearing a red dress and a pearl necklace. She had wide eyes, sharp teeth and bright red lipstick on. She was the news anchor of Hell, Katie Killjoy. Next to her was a man with a face mask for a face. He had short white hair and wore a business suit. He was Tom Trench.
“Good afternoon to Hell’s First Circle!” said the woman. “I’m Katie Killjoy.”
“And I’m Tom Trench,” the man added.
“Another drug dealing brawl is taking place by the 666 Store along Maim Avenue and Broadslay Street.”
The image showed a tall great white shark wearing a teal suit and an anchor necklace, snarling at a tall black spider wearing torn jeans and a t shirt. Both started fighting, the shark chomping at the spider, almost biting off his neck.
“That’s right,” said Tom. “The loan shark wasn’t very happy that Black Widow the Third didn’t pay him back for the bag of cocaine. Instead, he got high off the cocaine, stole the shark’s stash of meth and sold it to an arachnid mafia at an even higher price!”
The spider screamed as the shark opened his maw, rows of sharp teeth shining.
“Looks like Black Widow is in the jaws of fate this time,” Tom added as a loud snap shook the miniature screen.
The screen changed to a red wall displaying plaques with fancy papers taped onto them. “Employee of the Month” was printed in headline format at the top and a row of smiling black and white pictures of Katie.
“Now for a special public program, here at 5! To commemorate me earning “Employee of the Month” for the tenth time in a row this year, me and Tom will be answering a series of questions in an exclusive live interview!”
She fluffed her short hair.
“You may be wondering why 666 News is Hell’s number one news station. Well now, you can get a sneak peek behind the scenes as I explain to you folks how my hard work and stylish outlook made all of this possible!”
She spread out her arms with loud cracks, bonking Tom Trench in the head.
Tom Trench rubbed his head as Katie moved her arms back and put her hands together in front of her.
“If you would like to apply to be part of the set and news crew, please call the number on your screen, 1-800-666–NEWS or go online at 666news applications.com.”
“Gays need not apply,” Katie added, with jazz hands.
Fast rapid music followed as the logo appeared again, and the words “Exclusive Interview with Katie Killjoy (and limp dick Tom Trench)!” appeared in stylish gold letters.
After the I.M.P. jingle played, the screen cut back to the two news anchors sitting at their desks.
A rapid knocking sounded from Tom’s left.
“Oh, that must be our two never-before seen interviewers,” Tom said. “Brain Brimstone and Cecilia May! Come on in!” He stood up.
The sound of footsteps, muffled grunts, and dragging steadily grew. Two shadow figures were thrown off-screen with thuds on the floor. Tom Trench took one look at the third figure and took several steps back. He breathed out loud in surprise.
Katie scratched her nails on the desk and looked over. “What now, Tom?!”
“Why hello there, news people!” said a loud radio voice. “Fancy seeing you here!”
Both of them were staring into the pale, red-eyed face of Alastor. He wore his usual long blood red dress coat, dark pants and black shoes. Dark gloves covered his four clawed hands. His hair was red and black and two small antlers were sticking up from his head between two furry tufts shaped like deer ears. A monocle rested under his right eye, connected by a thin chain.
“What a splendid surprise!” Katie chirped, looking at the camera. “The one and only Radio Demon has decided to join us for the interview. I hope he has some good questions up his sleeve, ‘cause I’d be more than happy to answer them.” She smirked and swayed her hips suggestively.
Alastor laughed forcefully. “Nonono, that’s not what I came here for. You see…” he mentioned to the two demons in the background, slowly getting up. “I came across those two fellows who were chatting about interviewing someone important. Seeing how easily bored I can get, I decided to follow them to your station to see what all the commotion was about. It was pretty funny seeing the terrified looks on their faces when they turned around and saw me. They were going to come in, but I brought them here for you. Wasn’t that so considerate of me?”
Katie and Tom Trench looked at each other, worry on both of their faces. Katie cleared her throat and cracked her neck, standing up. “Well, then, shall we get started? Take a seat and let’s begin with your first question.”
“Sure,” said Alastor, not moving, a smile on his face. “Here’s one, may I take things over from here? I’ve been bored as usual and I believe it’s my turn to provide some fun for the sinners.”
Tom Trench gulped, whole Katie narrowed her eyes.
“Excuse me, sir, but this is my program. I’ve been named the best employee and news anchor for ten months now! This is a perfect way to increase the good ratings! I’m the star who answers the questions, not you.”
She blew him a kiss. Tom’s eyes grew wide as he realized Katie’s big mistake. He shook his head, but Katie ignored him.
“My dear,” said Alastor, leaning closer, eyes glowing. “That wasn’t a request. This is my show now. Broadcasting on the radio is fine and dandy, but I enjoy looking for new entertainment platforms.” His microphone staff lit up.
Katie gave him a side hug. “My time is money, good sir, so I suggest we get started.”
A low growl rumbled from Alastor’s throat. He forcefully shoved her away. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your already broken body.”
“Why I never!” she responded. Katie transformed into her insect form, eyes glowing, pinchers out. “Get out of my studio!”
Alastor’s eyes turned into red radio dials. He spoke in a low voice. “How about, no. If any dumb Dora needs to get out, it’s you.”
Before Katie could react, she found herself ensnared by a couple black tentacles snaking around her feet, one wrapped around her right wrist.
“Let go of me!”
Tom Trench was yelling and hanging upside down by more tentacles grabbing onto his legs. Katie tripped in her red high heels and fell to the ground. A flaming portal formed from the floor nearby. Katie dragged her nails into the floor, scratching sounds piercing the air as she was pulled in further against her will.
“Why won’t anyone help me?!” Tom yelled as he was swung in the air as the crew fled the scene.
Katie swore loudly and screamed again as she fell through the portal.
Monstrous roars and yells came from below. After a few minutes, a tentacle flung Katie back up and onto the floor. Her body was shaking and her dress was torn. There were cuts all over face and arms. Her eyes were briefly red, her pale face full of fear.
She stood on shaky legs and mumbled to herself.
“Those visions…my studio gone…crushed again…they rejected me…”
Alastor’s shadow let out a bone-chilling laugh and spoke in reverse: “.der ni dalc nomed eht eraweB”
Katie had gotten a glimpse of her worst subconscious fears and her past. Her parents comparing their worthless daughter to beauty patents in magazines…being fined for animal abuse…the press badmouthing her after being on air for the first time…a wealthy boyfriend rejecting her for a brunette model…smoking and gasping for breath…cameras and machinery falling and crushing her to death…
But her worst fear at the moment was a red and black haired man, glaring at her with glowing red eyes. She screamed and scurried out of the room. Tom Trench was thrown by a tentacle out a window, glass shattering. The portal in the floor closed.
“Apologizes folks, but now that those two are gone, it’s time to begin my show with those two over there.”
Alastor’s shadow appeared and floated around him. With a snap of his fingers, the 666 News logo on the wall was replaced with large red letters reading “The Alastor Show!” The two demon interviewers hovered over in the air, surrounded by red auras. They were dropped into leather chairs. The desk vanished and Alastor sat in a tall leather chair of his own, with antlers extending from the top.
He beamed at the two in front of him. He stood up and walked over to Brian Brimstone. “The name’s Alastor, it’s a pleasure meeting you. And you are?”
“Brian,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Great to have you here. And you, what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Cecilia.”
“Pleasure to meet you as well!”
He sat back down. “So you’re here to interview me, yes? Well feel free to ask whatever you’d like. No pressure or anything. But I do warn you, the price for asking any personal questions, is your souls. Are we good?”
Both nodded.
“Excellent! To make this even more entertaining, I’ve invited some fine imps from Immediate Murder Professionals to join us.”
Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie opened up a portal to Earth, a circle of flames between space and time.
“I paid them several souls to create an opening for the living world. Thanks to them, I can now broadcast this interview to those on Earth. While I provide some dad jokes and murder broadcasts for a while, these two here will travel to Earth and talk to the human mortals. If they have any questions they’d like to ask me, then my two associates will report back to me in the next hour. Have fun, you two!”
Brian and Cecilia were tossed into the portal off screen.
“By the way, did you hear about the day two radios got married? The wedding was great but the reception was awesome!”
He laughed out loud as a shadow spirit did a “ba dum tis” sound effect on a drum set. “Hahaha! Oh that one never gets old! For my radio listeners out there, just a reminder that my show starts Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at 6:06 AM. Get it? A M.” He laughed again.
“Tune in after the break. The Alastor Show is proudly sponsored by: “Dan’s Cannibalicious Cooking Segment. It’s Damn Delicious! By Murder King’s large Fat Nugget Bacon Burgers. The Perfect Snack for a Heart Attack. And by Princess Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. The place to stay to wash your sins away!”
Part 2: “I’ll Make Music!”
“Welcome back everyone!” Alastor said happily. The two interviewer demons scurried out of the portal and took their places behind the camera in their chairs. The interviewers, obscured by darkness flinched as Alastor’s shadow hovered between the chairs, growling and showing sharp teeth. Antlers extended from the shadow’s head. Alastor continued. “As you can see, my two interviewers just came back from their journey to talk to the humans. They now have their questions ready. So, without further ado…let the show begin.”
Brian cleared his throat. So…uh…we picked up several questions for the humans and…those in an exclusive group seem to know a lot about what goes on in this version of Hell. They call themselves “Hazbin Hotel fans or supporters.”
Alastor shook his head and chuckled. “How can any mortal possibly know about the Hazbin Hotel?” He spoke in a low whisper. “It’s nothing more than a pit and a joke if you ask me.” He spoke up, “But hey, I was happy to help out and rejuvenate the place. I just summoned Husk and Niffty, my associates to help assist Charlie and her friends. I believe they are named Vaggie and Angel Dust. I was there to seek out entertainment, to find a cure for my nagging boredom.”
Alastor’s shadow laughed. “.enorht s’reficuL ekat ot nalp ew dnA”
Understanding his shadow, Alastor whirled around and spat, “Shut it!” The shadow apologized in French and retreated.
“Where were we? Oh of course. The Hazbin Hotel. You say people know about it? Probably from I.M.P. I imagine.”
“No, sir. They say you’re part of a show they watch.”
Alastor chuckled. “Aren’t we all the stars of our own shows? For me, there’s an audience out there just waiting to see what I’m capable of. Like I say, the world is a stage!”
Cecilia turned to Brain in the darkness, “Don’t try and explain it to him. We’re breaking the 4th wall enough as it is.”
Alastor’s microphone staff lit up. “Hello there, fellow humans! I’m your host, Alastor, the only and only Radio Demon! I can’t really see you as I’m in the fiery depth of Hell, but I hope you’re doing swell wherever you live.”
“And the 4th wall has been broken,” Brain muttered.
“Now that both demons and humans can witness this interview, let’s get started. Now, state your questions.”
Cecelia looked at the list.
“Question 1: What instruments do you like to play?”
“Glad you asked,” said Alastor. “I enjoy playing the piano, trumpet, and saxophone. Electro Swing and Jazz are my favorite types of music.” Shadow spirits rose up from the ground and began to play a jazzy tune. He moved his body to the beat and hummed along. “Music has always been central in my life. Growing up in New Orleans back in the day, jazz was everywhere there. Singing and dancing was my way of bonding with people, plus it was a great hobby to do in my spare time. Well, besides murdering people and eating them.”
Alastor’s eyes lit up. “Oh ho ho ho ho! I have a special surprise for you folks. With the help of Blitzo and his crew, I was able to track down a curious British fellow who had invented a very unique musical instrument. What was his name again?”
Blitzo looked up from a computer. “LOOK MUM, NO COMPUTER.”
“No need to shout it out, good sir. Are you sure that’s his name?”
“It’s written in all caps. That’s what he calls himself.”
“Whatever. Mortals sure are strange. Anyway…”
He snapped his fingers and a large object was covered with a black tarp. I present to you…one of my favorite instruments to play, when no one’s looking…”
The shadow spirits did a drum roll…
The tarp was lifted away into the air…
“The Furby Organ!”
It was a grotesque combination of an old fashioned organ and a children’s plaything. The organ had a wooden stool to sit down on and a row of white and black piano keys. The frame was polished oak.
Six long rows of colorful furry robotic toys stood close together like toys displayed in a shop. The furbies had long soft ears, yellow bird becks for noses and little mouths that could open and close. Their large plastic eyes opened and closed at random…their eyes looking disturbingly like human eyes. They all had soft furry feet to hold them upright. Their fur was a variety of colors: gray white, blue and black, brown, orange and red, and yellow. There were 44 furbies in total, all hooked up by a complex array of colorful wires criss-crossing in the back of the machine.
Below the furbies was a series of round metal knobs with notes as letters written in silver sharpie below them. Slightly larger knobs were off to the right. One of the switches was labeled “wake” another, “vowel” and another, “loop.” “LOOK MUM, NO COMPUTER” was written on the front.
A tall white young man stuck out his head from the portal with a shocked and angry expression. His hair was dark and slightly messy.
“Hey, you there! I saw you and some gazelles steal my instrument the other day. I’d like it back!”
Blitzo fumed. “It’s imps to you, ya piece of…”
“Ha! No,” Alastor cut in, pushing Blitzo back. “I believe this marvelous organ belongs to me now. You’re smart. Go make another one.”
The YouTuber stood, flabbergasted. “You don’t know how much I spent on those furbies!” he exclaimed. “They’re rare to find. I wanted to find a use for them and I’m still not done with it.”
“I must say, I’m quite impressed with your work,” Alastor mentioned, running his hand on the polished wood. “It looks done to me. Go make me some more, and I might consider sparing you.”
“What?! What the heck even are you?” the man asked.
“Alastor, Radio Demon, pleased to meet you! Now sit back and enjoy the show, No Computer Man!”
“That’s not my name…” he began, before he was held in place with a yelp by several shadow spirits.
Alastor sat down at the stool as the camera was focused on him.
“Please sir,” said the YouTuber. “Just let me have my machine and I’ll be on my way.”
“Sure, okay, go ahead,” said Alastor. He waved his hand and the silver letters changed to red on the black front structure. “LOOK MUM NO COMPUTER” changed to “ALASTOR RADIO DEMON.” Red voodoo symbols decorated the front and sides of the instrument. “But first, I’d like you to hear me play my favorite song, “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile! Congratulations, human…you’ve got a front-row seat!”
He moved his eyes over toward a switch to the far right of the machine. Below the switch read “Collective Awakening,” in silver letters.
He hovered a long finger over the switch, his grin growing wider.
The man’s eyes widened in fear. “No, no, don’t…” He couldn’t explain where his internal fear was coming from.
But he knew the answer soon enough once Alastor flicked the switch upwards.
All at once, the furbies came to life in a high-pitched discordant. The ears, eyes and mouths of the toys moved on their own accord. The furbies’ voices overlapped each other, almost sounding like screams. A few furbies were still and asleep, unaware of their Matrix-like fate of being part of a musical machine.
Alastor sat down on the stool and laughed. He played around with the knobs and notes. The furbies’ eyes glowed red. He turned the loop button and the furbies screeched and stopped in mid sound. He began to play the keys expertly with his fingers as he sang out loud in his radio voice:
“Hey Hobo Sinner, hey Dapper Winner
You’ve both got your style
But brother you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”
“Your clothes may be, Beau Brummelly
They stand out a mile
But brother, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”
He snapped his fingers and Rosie, Mimzy and Charlie were lifted up from portals via tentacles. Charlie looked around, her pale face framed by her blonde hair, red circles on her cheeks.
“Alastor…what’s going on?!”
“My lovely companions!” he introduced.
Mimzy giggled and danced along. Rosie, having agreed to the plan prior, also hummed along.
The three of them did the backup sounds: “Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo doo…”
“Who cares what they’re wearing
On Maim Street or Inferno Row
It’s what you wear from ear to ear!”
He held up two severed ears…
“…and not from head to toe…”
A severed head and toes appeared in his other hand…
“That ma- ah- ah- ters…”
He took several bites of the human flesh and swallowed, playing a solo with the shrilling and singing of furbies. LOOK MUM, NO COMPUTER shut his eyes tight, trying in vain to get the shadows off him. Alastor tossed the parts aside for the imps to retrieve, along with a bag of souls and coins at the imps’ feet. He cleared his throat as he played some more.
“So room and board, so Overlord
So long for a while
Remember you’re never fully dressed without a smile!
It doesn’t matter how you dress…
Though you make look the best…
You’re never fully dressed without a smile!”
Charlie took one look at the furby organ and screamed. “What in Satan’s name is that thing?!”
“My fabulous furby organ!” Alastor exclaimed.
“It’s my invention!” the YouTuber yelled, eyes open.
“Who’s that?” Charlie asked.
Alastor ignored her and finished the song. The furbies talked and moved their mouths in a frenzy before falling still.
Audience clapping sounded from the microphone staff as Alastor stood and bowed.
“Thank, you, thank you! I hope you all enjoyed my little performance. Now to send everyone home.”
He snapped his fingers and the shadows gently carried LOOK MUM NO COMPUTER back through the portal and into the human world. The portal closed behind him, leaving the YouTuber with nothing but a pamphlet advertising the Hazbin Hotel. Under the pamphlet was a hard piece of paper with detailed instructions on how to build another organ made of scales and sea creatures…complete with Baxter’s signature.
Charlie protested but she was soon sent back to the Hazbin Hotel through another portal. Mimzy waved goodbye and Rosie led the way out the door.
After playing several more songs, Alastor snapped his fingers. The organ vanished back to his interdimensional lair and the imps were sent on their way.
Part 3: “I’ll Annihilate Your Assumptions!”
“Alright, next question,” said Brian. “Question 2: Why were you made asexual?”
“Pardon me?” He titled his head in confusion.
“Asexual. Aromantic. Not interested in love?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that. Where did those peculiar terms come from?”
“Well, don’t you know about heterosexuality and homosexuality? Being straight or gay? Everyone uses them.”
Alastor shook his head. “I’ll never understand the random out-of-the-blue labels that you modern folk use. Asexuality? That didn’t exist in my time.”
Brain stared, confused from his seat. “Ok, boomer.”
Alastor snapped his fingers and an explosion tore open a hole in the wall right behind Brain. He yelped in fright.
“Was that a good enough boom for you? Angel Dust told me that “ok boomer” was somehow an insult. I could make you explode, oh that would be fun!”
“Nononono! I didn’t mean anything!” Brian called, in a stuttering voice.
“Alright, let’s fix that wall,” Alastor mentioned.
He snapped his fingers and the formerly broken white wall became a repaired red wall with golden antler designs on it. A black and white picture of a dark skinned woman hung nearby.
The camera focused on Alastor walking up to the wall where the picture was and briefly embracing it.
“Hey, I gotta get my hugs sometime when I’m alone.” He stood up and walked back to his seat. The picture disappeared.
“Alright, about this “asexual” business. Let me explain the best way I can,” said Alastor. “When I was alive, nearly everyone assumed that men liked women and vice versa. Those who did behaviors outside the norm were arrested or imprisoned. At the earliest, that “heterosexuality” term…meant someone with an abnormal passion for the opposite sex. There were no official terms…you were either accepted or condemned by others. As for me…I wasn’t interested in men or women. Dealing with messy emotions and meeting other’s expectations wasn’t worth my time. Sure, I had my fair share of friends male and female…and yes, I did enjoy flirting and touching the ladies. Kind of amusing and pathetic how they could fall for me just like that. Humanity…so gullible! So easy to dance with the women, give them compliments, lure them into my house, and then watch as they screamed for their lives in my basement. I’ve found dames to be the much more tender gender…”
He licked his lips.
Brian and Cecilia shivered in their seats, legs ready to spring and flee.
Alastor shook his head, and spoke back in his normal voice. “Oh sorry about that. I got lost in my thoughts. So, what was the question again?”
Brian repeated it.
“No one is “made” into anything. I was born who I am and then was raised with certain beliefs. Were you born to love the opposite sex? Was I somehow destined to become a demon? No one really knows the answers.”
A pause.
A narrowing of red eyes.
“I can sense that these questions are becoming more personal…”
“Okay, okay,” said Cecelia in a trembling voice. “We won’t ask anything else…”
“On the contrary, it’s quite enjoyable to let my thoughts out,” he said. He snapped his fingers. The doors slammed shut and the locks clicked into place.
“Stay tuned for more, next time on The Alastor Show. For now, you can only imagine what fate I have in store for my guests.”
His microphone blinked off and the TV screens burst into static.
Brain and Cecelia found their arms and legs pinned down by red magic.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you guys escape. Wouldn’t want anyone to taint my reputation by revealing personal details. I mean, heheheh, you still have lots of questions to ask me, and I wouldn’t want to be dismissive of your hard work. But how to dispose of you when the interviews end…”
The shadow hovered by Alastor and whispered in his ear.
“.senob rieht htiw yalp nac sllod oodoov eht dna meht no tsaef em teL”
“Oh, that’s a great idea, Rotsala! Then again, I always have great ideas.” The shadow grinned and sat in a shadow chair beside Alastor.
“In regards to your strange question…why would I love anybody down in Hell?” He burst into laughter. “They’re all a bunch of lost causes anyway! I do make deals here and there but I just use people for my own entertainment. I’m not interested in any sexual activity. Those like that pervert Angel Dust…they can just do their own thing far away from me.”
“But,” he continued, “I will say this. I don’t want to see dear Charlie and her friends get hurt. Especially by my rivals Vox and Valentino and other sinners and demons. I should be the one who decides what to do with them. Those who harm me or my associates would be in for a rude awakening.”
“Um,” said Cecelia. “You’re not gonna…you know…”
Oh, don’t worry, they’re still safe and sound at the hotel. I’m just taking a break. Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”
He paused…
“I would just get bored again later,” he said in a normal voice.
Cecelia and Brian looked at each other.
“What?” Alastor asked with a smirk. “You thought I was going to say something else?”
“The fans do love it when you’re creepy…” Brian mumbled.
“What was that?”
“N-nothing.”
Alastor held out his hands and a plate of shrimp, sausage, rice, and vegetables appeared on a small table that emerged from a small portal.
“Jamabalya?” he offered with a smile. “It’s my mother’s special recipe.”
The two demons dug in off screen while Alastor enjoyed the dish as well.
“Yes,” said Alastor after they had finished eating. “I’m affectionate with my friends, but I’m not into sex and romance. I assume that not many humans or you demons understand that.”
“Uh…yes we do,” said Cecelia, her voice trembling. “Yeah, I have a friend who’s not into romance…”
Alastor held up a hand. “Of course you wouldn’t. None of you would. Only I can understand my feelings and aversion to intimacy. My Creole heritage, my love of Hoodoo, Voodoo, the radio, and theater…the thrill and desperation when I hunted my own kind during the Depression…No. I’ll remain an elusive enigma to all of you.”
Part 4: “I’ll Tell You About The One I Truly Love”
“Is there…anyone you do love?” Cecelia asked.
“Like I said before,” Alastor mentioned, “I don’t care much for anyone in Hell. However…” His red eyes took on a faraway look, the shades of red descending into darker shades of red, until ending at black holes.
“I loved my dear mama with all my heart. Back when we lived together in New Orleans in a small house by the bayou not too far from town. Others called her by her name, Loretta Duvalier. Beautiful lady, dark skin, black curly short hair, loved to wear red cotton dresses and dapper hats.”
“Wow,” Brain breathed. “I didn’t know she had a name.”
Alastor scoffed. “I didn’t know you had an identity, but here we are. As a matter of fact, no one else knows what you and your friend look like. Even the camera doesn’t want to know.”
“Why you disoriented, deer-brained…”
Brain strained to lift up his arms in the darkness, reaching for the camera in vain.
“Goodness, don’t wear yourself out just yet,” Alastor chuckled. “I still have more to tell you!”
“You have no soul, redhead!” he sputtered out.
“That’s because I need live souls to warm me up,” Alastor retorted. “Be patient; you’ll be next soon enough.”
Brain stilled in defeat.
“That’s better. Moving on.”
He cleared his throat. “In case any of you are wondering what I looked like as a radio host and serial killer as a human…”
Morphing from shadow, was a black and white picture that appeared in Alastor’s hand. It briefly revealed colors. A young man grinned widely, wearing a white buttoned shirt, a sandy red shirt over the white one, dark gray pants and a black bow tie underneath his pointed chin. His hair was short and brown, with a faint reddish tint that sometimes shined in the light. Light brown skin, brown analytical eyes, and a pair of round glasses. He held a dark gray hand-held microphone in his right hand.
“I…thought you were white…” Cecelia added. “All the fan art and the comics say you are.”
“What exactly is ‘fan art?’” he asked. “You seriously want to believe what is portrayed in the human world? And just after an hour? You’re even more stupid than I thought.”
“I am part French, part Creole,” he continued. “My race and my personality were several reasons why I was bullied throughout my school years…and my working life. You two should be grateful to be getting these facts first hand. I almost never tell these to anyone.”
In a blink of an eye, Alastor walked over and twisted Brain’s arm hard.
A wailing wheezing scream followed a millisecond after the sickening crack. Moments later, he did the same thing with one of his legs. The demon yowled again.
“Heh, it seems that my stories cost you an arm and a leg to listen to,” he smirked. The smiling shadow spirit did the “ba dum tis” sound effect on the drums again.
“Anyway, back to my dear mother, Loretta. She once made a recipe for Jambalaya that nearly killed her. Mind you, this was before she died from an illness and I had her for dinner in despair. You see, several of the voodoo deities liked to consume rum, blood, and gunpowder in the legends. She had a bit too much Southern Comfort drink and she put gunpowder and wasabi sauce in the jambalaya. The stove was on and some of the powder exploded in her face. I warned her not to eat it, but she decided, with her face all charred, that she would taste test it. The wasabi sauce almost gave her a heart attack and I had to take care of her for a while. But when I tried the dish…it was so spicy and so splendid!”
He burst out into laughter.
“Oh,” said Brain, through pained gasps. “That’s what you meant when you said that her recipe nearly killed her and that the kick was right outta Hell.”
The shadow spirit did the drum effect again.
“That’s seriously getting annoying,” Cecelia complained.
“And so are you,” he retorted before continuing.
“My mom told me that her mother was a well-respected Voodoo Priestess and Hoodoo oral traditionalist. She followed in her footsteps, though like many women during the time, she worked in second-class jobs, not very well-paid. I remember her warning me not to delve too deep into the dark Loas and evil magic. She also said, “Never resort to cannibalism unless as a last resort.” Well, she only ate one human who had already died of starvation, and that’s when we had no food for several days. When it came to the Great Depression…it was both survival and the thrill that got me into cannibalism. Oh the irony!”
“W-where is she now?” Brain asked.
“In Heaven, of course. She went there because she was pretty much the only light in my human life. She comforted me after my father and uncle…took advantage of me. My father and uncle were sent to Hell for obvious reasons.”
His smile appeared strained.
“You know…it’s okay to show emotion other than happiness all the time,” Cecilia said.
“Frowning makes one weak,” Alastor replied. “Both my parents told me that. I’ll never forget mother’s saying she often used, “Always remember to smile, Alastor. You gotta appear confident and fully dressed to others.” I can see why she told me that, with the racism and the lavish-centered culture back then…”
“Will you ever get to see her?” she asked.
“Not with being stuck down here,” he replied. “Charlie’s whole plan of “redemption” is a big joke. But, since she’s nice enough, I still want to help her out…for entertainment, of course.”
“I bet you secretly want her plan to work so you can go back to Heaven to reunite with her!” Cecelia claimed. “He wants to dance with Charlie and love her forever and ever!”
“Or,” Brain countered. “He wants to lure her into a sense of false security so he can take over Hell and be king!” He spoke in a high voice, “Oh Charlie, if only there was someone who actually loved your hotel and ideas!”
Radio static filled the room. “Assumptions, assumptions,” Alastor growled. “I tell you facts about my life and here you go making up stories to fit your puny ideals! You’re even lower than the mortal humans. I’m usually very kind and patient…but I’m literally this close to ripping your eyes out and leaving your corpses for the voodoo imps to feed on.”
“.ti od ,erofeb dias I tahw s’thaT”
“That’s what I said before, do it.”
“Not now,” Alastor hissed to his shadow.
He turned back to them. “Only questions come from you two. Not another word, unless you want me to use your tongues for decoration.” His voice lowered. “You hear me loud and clear?”
Both interviewer demons nodded.
“Good. Now, let’s move forward.”
Part 5: “I’ll Describe Rosie and Mimzy, My Fellow Female Friends!”
Part 4: “About Charlastor…”
Part 5: “About RadioDust…”
Part 6: “Other shippings?”
Part 7: “Gender and race of my victims doesn’t matter”
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Harpoon (2019)
Harpoon played for exactly one night, once, and at the cheapest theater in the city. It’s too late for me to tell the rest of the people who sat next to me if they should see it but if I could go back and time and tell other moviegoers to check it out? Would I? It’s heavily flawed and tonally inconsistent - even for a horror-comedy - but comes together in the end.
Richard (Christopher Gray), his girlfriend Sasha (Emily Tyra), and best friend Jonah (Munro Chambers) decide to bury the hatchet after a misunderstanding by going on Ricard’s yacht for the weekend. After his jealous suspicions about Sasha and Jonah prove to be true, things get out of control. Next thing you know, all their supplies have been thrown overboard, the radio’s been destroyed and the engine… won’t start.
The picture begins on a wobbly foot that’s stepped on shards of glass and is left shredded and unappealing. You don’t like ANY of the characters. Richard’s the kind of psycho douchebag who'll beat up his “best friend” because he SUSPECTS he’s been sleeping with Sasha. What kind of friend takes that? Jonah’s a spineless loser. If he can’t realize this friendship is toxic, maybe he deserves it. As for Sasha, either she cheated on her boyfriend with his best friend, or she’s the kind of woman whose only course of action when the violent beatdown begins is to meekly yell and slap the aggressor with her purse. These three are best friends? They have NOTHING in common. On the upside, it establishes the trio as perfectly deserving of each other. You just want them to suffer horrible shark and/or harpoon-related deaths. I’ll give the picture credit for obliterating any pathos we’d normally have for them, but the scenario just isn’t funny enough -, not until about the last third - to be worth it.
These cinematic equivalents of swallowing a ball of sandpaper - without a glass of water to wash it down - become more entertaining once they’ve landed themselves in a pickle and their survival skills kick in. They hardly have any. It’s one stupid decision after another, and these do make for a few morbid laughs. It’s a low-budget film but it looks fine overall. The performances are decent. Some decisions by director Rob Grant I could’ve done without - such as the use of a narrator (by Brett Gelman) to insert more gags throughout. It doesn’t fit with the rest of the film, which only focusses on the 3 characters.
Harpoon isn’t consistently funny but it the right amount of gory. There are a few laughs, which show it had more potential than this. If it had been edited down to the length of an episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’d be a winner. I suppose I can nonetheless recommend it as something you’d watch as a rental for the ending. (Theatrical version on the big screen, October 7, 2019)
#harpoon#harpoonMovie#movies#films#reviews#movie reviews#film reviews#film criticism#canadian movies#horror movies#horror-comedies#rob grant#mike kovac#brett gelman#munro chamers#emily tyra#christopher gray#2019 movies#2019 films
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you know where to find me [sharky x deputy]
[AO3 LINK]
warnings: straight nsfw porn without plot with a little bit of angst
“She really debates kicking him out of the truck.”
He’s the one thing that makes sense.
Her father’s gone. Every other person she knew is scattered to the wind and the county that was home for eighteen years of her life is burning. Literally and figuratively. Everything is upside down. But somehow, against all odds - there’s Sharky, sitting next to Jo in the passenger seat of her truck, rambling about only God knows what. The only thing that has changed is that he somehow managed to grow a beard out of his patchy high school facial hair.
Jo used to brush him off back then. Hell, everybody did. He was a burnout. Literally and figuratively as well. She still isn't sure if him and his two buddies catching the sports equipment shed on fire was purposeful or just an accident. That didn't stop him from trying to talk his way out of it. Most of the time, Sharky spoke just to keep his mouth running. He was…well, like a shark. If he stopped talking, he’d probably die. But Jo has realized that he makes some good points every once in awhile. And the bastard is funny too.
It grounds her heavy heart and spinning head.
Sharky seems to make it his mission to fill tonight with talk and laughter too. They were riding back to the prison from freeing an outpost, her truck bouncing on the old dirt road they were taking through the mountains. It’s safer to travel on those than the main roads even though it took much longer. They didn’t have to contend with roadblocks and only occasionally saw a peggie or two.
Sharky is a good distraction from that. She thought that dealing with John and his people had set her on edge. But the Angels…
Staring out into the dark woods, she can’t help but imagine how many brain-dead creeps are lurking in there.
But then Sharky laughs and she looks over at him, struck by the warmth of his smile.
“What?” he asks. “I’m funny!”
The point? Already forgotten. She just wants to keep him smiling.
“I know. I was just thinkin’ that,” she tells him truthfully, struck a little by the ache in her heart. He gives her a once over. Jo can feel his eyes on her; checking her out or seeing if she was pulling his chain.
They reach the top of the mountain and Jo pulls the truck off on a little side road, hidden in the trees on a whim. Her mind is racing. A million reasons against, a million and one reasons for.
“What’s up? You see somethin’?” he asks, nervousness in his voice.
Wordlessly, she unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs into his lap.
“Woah, hey uh-“ he laughs nervously, keeping his hands held up as if he doesn’t want her to take offense. As if she wasn’t the one who was crawling into his lap.
Heart-thudding, she grabs his cheeks in her hands and kisses him.
Yes, he makes sense.
In the chaos, she needs something that makes sense.
His beard scratches at her lips as she kisses him, slow and experimental at first. She gives him soft, little pecks that soothe him. They make his eyes shut too but he still seems like he’s not entirely sure what to do with his hands.
For a moment, she wonders if this is some bliss-induced hallucination and with the way he’s acting, Sharky seems to think the same. But there is a shocking clarity in the haze of want that spreads through her body. Jo grabs his hands and brings them to her ass. He seems to get the idea of what she wants and finally tongues into her mouth, sparking a fire in her belly.
His hands shift to her front to move her shirt up and she tenses. An ice-cold chill washes over her, a shock through the haze of heat that has clouded her mind. Jo all but bruises his wrists when she wraps her fingers around them and guides his hands back to her ass instead. He seems to want to ask, prod but Jo doesn’t let him, leaning in for another kiss.
She knows it was innocent. He doesn’t know about the scars that mar her skin now, ones she hasn’t yet had time to come to terms with. Wrath across her chest. Pride on her shoulder. Lust just underneath her navel. Jo feels bile rise in her throat and she tries to focus on the feeling of his warm lips against hers and his hands squeezing at her. This was supposed to distract her, not bring things bubbling to the surface.
“Jo…,” he breathes raggedly against her lips. It almost undoes her. One of the few people who know her name.
Jo needs him. Now.
She shifts back to sit on his thighs, quickly undoing her belt and her jeans. Her hands are shaking as she does so; overwhelmed by the want and the fear of the things raging up inside of her.
They fumble in the cabin of the truck. Jo half-stands, bent against the roof as she does her best to wiggle her jeans down and off. She kicks her boots off along the way. Sharky watches her, caught staring at her body in the moonlight. He cups the back of her soft thighs when she slides back into his lap, clad in her underwear.
Jo tangles her hands in his hair and arches, groaning into a deep kiss.
“What’s gotten into you, girl?” he grunts as she practically ruts herself against him. “Hornier than a-“
His voice comes out half-awe, half-joke.
Jo’s fingers find his belt buckle and yanks it open, effectively silencing him.
“You complainin’?” she asks, pulling back to suck in ragged breaths.
“No, no, nope-“ he insists quickly and shakes his head, worried Jo might stop. She dips back down and starts to mark at his neck, smoothing her hot tongue over them when she’s satisfied at the way he groans deep and guttural.
Her hand ventures into his jeans with a little help from him scooting forward in the truck seat. Sharky’s hard inside his boxers, surprising neither of them. He’s returning the favor, kissing her neck as well and the cabin is filled with the radio and the rumble of the truck and their heavy breaths.
Jo’s heart is pounding in her chest and it stops for a moment when she finally touches him. He’s a little on the average side but thick. Thick enough to work with. It’s been such a long time for her…
Her body feels like it can’t wait any longer and her head is swimming. She doesn’t even stop to reach into the glove box and pull out the condom she knows is there. Jo just pulled him from his jeans, pulls her panties to the side and-
“Ah-”
Jo is blinded by it for a moment; sinking down on him, feeling so full it stings just a little bit. Her hands fist into his t-shirt and she feels him tense underneath her body. He curses, hisses a little and instinctively bucks up into her wet warmth.
Sharky’s hands on her ass tighten, holding her still for a moment. Jo worries briefly he might come too quickly and she whimpers pitifully at the thought. But he lets out a ragged breath from his nose and presses his face into her neck. His hands give her ass a little squeeze that she assumes is her go ahead.
Jo starts to rock herself on top of him, the pressure of his abdomen against her clit making her head spin. God, how long had she been aching like this? Her pussy is wet and takes him easily. Quick little rolls of her hips start to build the familiar pressure at the base of her spine.
Her fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging roughly as she works herself on him. He leans back after a moment, staring up at her with hooded, lust-filled eyes. His hands stay obediently on her ass, her hips but his eyes are hungry.
She starts to bounce a little bit, the truck rocking with her movements. Every little hot puff of air that comes out of her mouth fans over his lips in the small space between their mouths. Jo’s looking into his eyes, her body aching in every way possible. Her hands find the back of the seat as she drives herself onto him. She feels sweat start to stick to her skin, the flannel she’s wearing suddenly burning her body.
Sharky’s hand pulls back and delivers a sharp smack to her ass and she shatters completely.
“Fuck,” she groans, eyes slamming shut as she presses her forehead to his. She slams down onto him and gives a hard, slow grind, chasing her orgasm. She can feel herself flutter around his cock as she comes, stars exploding in the darkness behind her eyelids. Jo feels him tense underneath her, groaning as he comes inside of her. Smack. Another spank to her opposite cheek that sends her whimpering hotly against his ear as she droops against him.
Jo rests her head on his shoulder and lets herself catch her breath. The air in the cabin of the truck is warm and sticky, smelling of sweat and sex. If she lets herself think about what just happened, the reality of fucking Sharky in the passenger seat of her truck while under the watchful eye of a giant fucking statue of Joseph Seed, she’s worried she might laugh.
And she’s pretty sure Sharky wouldn’t be a fan of that reaction.
She looks up when she hears a wet squeak against the glass, finding Sharky drawing a little smiley face in the foggy window.
That’s when she does laugh. When was the last time she did that?
It’s a full laugh, right in her belly. It’s one that reminds her that he’s inside her because her body moves with it. It’s joined by Sharky’s chuckling and she feels his laugh against her cheek when he offers her a scratchy peck.
“Jesus,” she breathes and slides off of him, snapping her underwear back into place. Jo can feel his warm come inside of her and regret burns through her a little. Yanking her jeans back on, she avoids looking at him.
“That gunna happen again? 'Cause you might wanna give me some warnin’ before you jump me,” Sharky prods, clearly uncomfortable with her silence.
“Jump you?” she asks, aghast. Embarrassment burns through her. “I did not jump you.”
“Sure, whatever you say, deputy,” he grins that stupid shit-eating grin that makes her want to kiss him again. "I mean, I'm happy to be of service."
Jo has her hackles raised and she’s definitely blushing. Or would be if her face already wasn’t flushed from the orgasm he'd given her.
“You are such a shit. And that? Ain’t never happenin’ again. Just so you know.”
He tucks himself back into his jeans and smirks to himself. Jo angrily grabs her boot and shoves it on. Without tying it up, she grabs the other.
“And just so you know,” he starts and she really debates kicking him out of the truck.
“When you do want it again, you know right where to find me.”
#far cry 5#sharky boshaw#sharky x deputy#this probably isn't even a thing#why do i have to ship obscure ships tf#mine: writing*#character: joanna#ship: firecracker
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big in japan.
The slick wet of the shark’s rubber skin in the foreign documentary we watched. That dank hotel room in Hokkaido, its mildewed green carpet the best we could afford. Our wet jeans hung on a shower curtain bar, dripping, soaked from a day of wandering in the rain. Because in the context of this attempt at a holiday escape, monsoon rains seemed more a mild inconvenience than a reason to sit inside within our misery. You asked me if sharks get divorced, with glazed eyes fixed on the janky tv set. This was the dance that felt big in Japan.
The romance of a paper map and foreign road signs, a tank full of gas and manual crank windows. The languid transition, from tense confusion after we missed the exit to easy silence as we fell into tiny abandoned towns and farmerless fields and the soundtrack of Japanese talk radio. The car rolled under a glorious bluebird sky, your face reflected in the glass of the dashboard. You asked me if people could forget to be happy, if one day your mouth would forget how to smile from years of disuse. These were the losses that felt big in Japan.
The salty remnants of fish skin and rice on small plastic plates, frothy filmed beer glasses and distracted conversation. Our jetlag pulling our posture to pieces, we slumped on plastic chairs and raw concrete walls, fixing our eyes on the restaurant’s sole tv. The dining room shone a faint blue glow from the neon sign outside. We should have known by the group of college kids at the first table that this was a place for sustenance, cheap fish karaage and chess tables rather than a meal to remember. But the monsoon rains still held us hostage and we acquiesced to the pull of proximity, stepping into the guest house’s main floor restaurant. I asked the server for another lager, and you asked me for the room key. These were the dissociations that felt big in Japan.
The ripples turned to waves as we left the harbour, and you opened your mouth into the wind as if to knock the cold, stagnant air from your lungs. We sailed for days, alone with a pile of paperbacks, the sun, and its shadows, until the water returned to calm. With nothing better to do, we would meet the sunrise by jumping into the swell of the sea, though never at the same time; we could share a room, a car, a closet, but the risk of grazing up against your skin in the black expansiveness of the undersea would have been too intimate an intrusion.
Floating on my back, I could see the inverted outline of your form bobbing on the deck of the boat. I watched you rise from the deck chair, your profile dark against the harsh, hot white of the sun. Floating, I watched as you walked toward me upside down, the sky heavy and solid beneath you. I swam back to you, white wrinkled fingertips gripping the fibreglass of the boat deck, breath sharp and lost. Looking out to the line where the sea became the sky, your face a squint against the brightness of everything, you asked me if I’d had enough. These were the last acts that felt big in Japan.
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WILL RAGE 2 BE ANY GOOD? | Upside Down Shark Radio #33
With Rage 2 jumping the E3 gun by releasing their trailer early, Craig and Paul take a look at whether the game will be a vibrant hit or a brown dud.
The lads also discuss Deadpool 2, Call of Duty: Black Ops IV, the continuing rise of Battle Royale games and of course, a healthy dose of Fast & Furious news!
Make sure to share with your friends and join the Upside Down Shark community!
Track of the Week is 'Target Practice' by Fight For Friday @16:49. Check them out on Facebook!
Join Our Discord that we should probably start using!
Listen to Upside Down Shark Radio at all these places!
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We interview cool people (like Frank Turner & Mega Ran)
Make sure to check out Craig & Co. on the Upside Down Shark network
Like trailers? We break them down in Trailer Takedowns
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Intro music: "The Vagtastic Voyage" by Mexicofallz
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Who are we?
We are Craig, Paul & Tom, and together we are Upside Down Shark.
We get together every week to talk about the goings on in pop culture, what we've been up to and generally have a chinwag. We also have our creative friends on to talk about their projects and hobbies, so we sound cooler by proxy!
Expect film, music, comics, art, books, wrestling and a whole lot more!
#upside down shark#upsidedownshark#upsidedownsharkradio#upside down shark radio#udsradio#rage 2#video games#review#debate#discussion#podcast#uk podcast
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my little brother's favorite book is about a sailor lost at sea, in a creaky old boat, sea sick and scared.
i'm not exaggerating when i say that's what last year felt like.
we've all been lost at sea, alone and afraid, isolated from the rest of the world. unsure of what's out there. and sometimes you really want to go for a swim but there are sharks in these waters and you might get caught in the riptide and drown.
and sometimes you get thirsty.
and you are alone, and you've been alone for so long you're not sure anymore what not-alone feels like, now, and sure you could send out a radio call, but it's not the same.
you're not even sure anyone's listening. sometimes there are responses, but it might just be the wind.
at night there are stars. too many to count and infinitely beautiful, old as time and unreachable. and they watch over you, silent and wise. you try to ask them what to do, but they don't respond, of course. none of the gods ever do.
sometimes you just have to pick a direction and hope for the best.
and sometimes there are lighthouses and friendly people and sheep. lights in the distance. little flickers, reminders of other life out there. reminders of danger. the lighthouse keepers wave at you from afar, too scared to get too close to the shore because the rocks are slippery and the sea is vast, and dark, and hungry, and this life out here isn't made for those who are willing to gamble. and you wave back.
you're not sure if you should fly your flag upside down or not.
you find ways to pass the time, play another card game against yourself, knit another sweater, find another way to organize your books. you tell yourself bedtime stories inside your head.
one day you'll find land.
you're safe in here, you tell yourself. the waves hit your boat, again and again, and it is dark, and you tell yourself; you are safe in here.
you turn on the radio, just to feel like there's someone else there.
you're not even sure anyone's listening.
over.
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Fourth Floor, a Fic Review
So, I spent yesterday afternoon reading Fourth Floor by @dirtybinary
Wow. I was hooked like by the end of the fifth paragraph... Steve and Sam vs. the IKEA bookshelf.
Sam wasn’t listening. He turned the leaflet upside down. “So these diagrams make no sense whichever way you look at them,” he said, “and paramedic school didn’t cover furniture appeasement, but I’m pretty sure step 6 is a blood sacrifice.”
“I’m anemic,” said Steve.
“It’s a bookshelf,” said Sam. “I don’t think it understands human suffering.”
And it just kept going... this fic was touching, adventurous, great world building, funny as hell. You know that picture of wet-cat as smol!steve? That’s what you get here. Not nice, cozy puppy dog Steve, but bony elbows and shark smiles and ridiculously overblown “I’m angry at the universe” Steve.
There’s a clock-radio shape shifter cat (Radio is awesome, personally one of my favorite OCs ever) and some really interesting Modern Magic theory. There are cameos from a dozen different Marvel characters and it’s fascinating the way they all sort of blend in together.
And oh, my god, the spoiler/twist is just amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that original as a concept before, and I loved it.
On a more technical note, the editing was top notch, the writing was fantastic (and written in past-tense, and I know present tense is the fashionable thing for fic, but I personally hate it and it kept me from reading fic for a LONG long time. I’ve mostly gotten over myself for it, but it really gives every single fic a bonus point to be written in past tense, so thanks for that!) and the art was so cute.
So, you should totally check it out.
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Fourth Floor, a Fic Review
Author: @dirtybinary
Link: A03
Rating: Teen and up
Relationship: Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes
Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Other Avengers, Alexander Pierce, Original Cat Character(s), Hydra Agents
Tags: Magical Realism, Tentacle Monsters, shrinkyclinks, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Summary: Steve has his life in order, okay. He goes to wizard college, even if he can't technically do magic. He has his own apartment, even though it's small and dinky and kind of gross, and forgets to exist sometimes, and might also be alive? Plus, he has a crush on the hot cyborg in unit 404 who cooks fiendishly good breakfast foods, and may or may not have some kind of weird connection to the sentient building they live in. He's not sure.He's dealing, all right, his life is in tip-top condition, or it was until an eldritch monstrosity called the Hydra started posing as a real estate company to try and buy over his new home.
He's really pissed about that.
(The one where Steve is an angry millennial wizard, Sam is a Disney prince, Natasha is a shapeshifter, and Bucky is a spoiler.)
Review by Mod Tisfan
Wow. I was hooked like by the end of the fifth paragraph… Steve and Sam vs. the IKEA bookshelf.
Sam wasn’t listening. He turned the leaflet upside down. “So these diagrams make no sense whichever way you look at them,” he said, “and paramedic school didn’t cover furniture appeasement, but I’m pretty sure step 6 is a blood sacrifice.”
“I’m anemic,” said Steve.
“It’s a bookshelf,” said Sam. “I don’t think it understands human suffering.”
And it just kept going… this fic was touching, adventurous, great world building, funny as hell. You know that picture of wet-cat as smol!steve? That’s what you get here. Not nice, cozy puppy dog Steve, but bony elbows and shark smiles and ridiculously overblown “I’m angry at the universe” Steve.
There’s a clock-radio shape shifter cat (Radio is awesome, personally one of my favorite OCs ever) and some really interesting Modern Magic theory. There are cameos from a dozen different Marvel characters and it’s fascinating the way they all sort of blend in together.
And oh, my god, the spoiler/twist is just amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that original as a concept before, and I loved it.
On a more technical note, the editing was top notch, the writing was fantastic (and written in past-tense, and I know present tense is the fashionable thing for fic, but I personally hate it and it kept me from reading fic for a LONG long time. I’ve mostly gotten over myself for it, but it really gives every single fic a bonus point to be written in past tense, so thanks for that!) and the art was so cute.
So, you should totally check it out.
#marvelfanrecs#stucky#Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes#sam wilson#natasha romanov#alexander pierce#tony stark#sharon carter#other avengers#dirtybinary#magical realism#mod tisfan
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FHE Alastor Glimpses At Our World
Before long after Alastor had his rest, it wasn’t just Pentagram City that fell into his hands.
There were several other great cities in Hell, Thelema City and Levia City. In the former one, an indigo upside down cross glowed against the red sky, though the air was very polluted from nearby factories. Many of the residents of Thelema city had wings: dragons, hydras, bat demons, mosquito demons, among others. Still, there were plenty of animal-like demons, imps, and other sinners who lived there, too. The city was ruled by King Beezelbub, Lord of the Flies and a lower ruler. He had a black face, and many eyes that could see in every direction. Giant fly wings extended from his back, even as he wore a suit, top-hat and bow-tie. Once he heard of Lucifer’s defeat, he promptly surrendered after Alastor had burst into the palace with his army of shadow minions.
The city of Levia was different. It lay close to a burning ocean of fire, where large fish, ancient sharks and sea monsters lurked beneath violent waves. The demon denizens used boats to catch fish, sell them at outrageously high prices and consume them. In this city, a teal symbol glowed against the red sky, an infinity symbol with two crosses on top of another…Leviathan’s symbol.
Leviathan was another king, also lower than Lucifer but higher than Beezelbub. He had a wife, Abyzou and a prince son, Franz. This royal family had the appearance of sea monsters: sharp fangs, scaly skin of dark green, ocean blue, or black. He carried a pitchfork staff with an eel skeleton wrapped around it. Helsa, Seviathan and the rest of the Von Eldritch family were close associates with this family, rivals of the Magnes.
Leviathan and Alastor engaged in battle, but alas, Leviathan lost as well. The smart demons took refuge in Leviathan’s palace, which was partly submerged under the fiery sea. All the cities and provinces fell under the Radio Demon. Both royal families and cities perished.
It wasn’t long before Alastor was wearing a trophy necklace of several black Archangel heads. The holy harpoons and spears the Archangels were carrying were burned in a large pile, as they weren’t very effective against the angels.
Unknown by most, there were other lower Circles of Hell; the current one was the first uppermost one, closest to Heaven and Earth. The second circle was a windy desert, the third, a gloomy rain-filled filthy realm, the fourth one, a haven for gamblers and property wars, the fifth, a trade site via the River Styx, the sixth, a gothic land of death, the seventh, a land of weapons, the eighth, a world of mining and disease and finally, the icy ninth circle, closest to the Void. This was where Satan, Lucifer’s dark counterpart resided.
At least until Alastor either recruited him or destroyed him.
Sir Pentious’ hideout lay in ruins after the serpent lord’s defeat. His air ship lay in several charred pieces on the ground during their final battle. The remaining egg bois were running for their lives from hungry animated voodoo dolls with poison-tipped pins aiming toward the minions. Baxter’s labs were now covered with rocks, dirt and debris from the ground collapsing after more shadow demons and creatures burst free. The Hazbin Hotel, once grand in its haphazardly appearance was now in tatters from the Archangels and shadow spirits fighting earlier on. The stained glass windows with apples on it now lay in glass pieces of red and dark yellow. The circus tent that made up the roof was torn and no longer upright. The only thing recognizable was the lit up letters of “Hazbin” that were once on the roof.
Once the demons of Pentagram City were freed and turned on him thanks to Charlie, the crazed Radio Demon didn’t want to risk anymore chances, thus sending the spirits to finish them off. There were times when Alastor would miss the crazy times he had with Charlie, Niffty, Mimzy, Rosie, Husk and even Angel Dust. But love of power tilted to paranoia of losing his position. As he had found a way to defeat Lucifer, he had to make sure that the same thing didn’t happen to him.
Alastor had died once from dogs and a gunshot when he was human. Despite being powerful, he knew that Hell was filled with other kinds of dangers. He made sure he wouldn’t die again.
Fortunately for him, all the souls that the shadows had consumed seemed to make them more powerful. They were able to fight off several more invading Archangels, even in Heaven where the sunlight could be harmful to them. Provided they evade the angel’s spears and not get too close to God, they were fulfilling their greedy desires to wreak havoc throughout the realms. For now, he appeared to be back pulling the strings of his dark demonic army. While the shadows invaded Heaven, a horde of imps traveled to the human world to kill off more humans for Alastor and the shadows to feast on. Most humans didn’t seem to notice…they were all too frantic trying to save lives during the COVID 19 virus outbreak. One of the portals opened…showing the modern city of New Orleans. Alastor peeked through one of the portals and saw nurses wearing masks rushing patients into hospitals. A group of kids and their parents were crying against the wall, all wearing face masks. Teachers and parents were chatting though their cellphones and computer screens, boarding in their homes.
One sign made Alastor gasp out loud: it read “Mardi Gras parade and festival postponed until next year due to outbreak. Please wash your hands, wear a mask and stay home.”
“Unbelievable…” he breathed, tuffs twitching.
Jazz band were no longer playing in clubs and outside. The only music that was played came from the tiny screens of iPhones from videos. Nothing like the filling all-encompassing live music that made New Orleans so well-known in the United States. The whole city looked dead, devoid of vivid purple, green and yellow colors like in the past.
Alastor stood, shocked, but then remembered all the suffering people and grinned wider.
The world of humanity was coming to an end.
Perhaps he could add newcomer sinners to his army without worrying about powerful royal families. Stolas, the pervert owl demon would not be lonely now, especially with Blitzo to play with and thousands of people entering Hell.
Alastor nodded in approval at a sign reading “Please keep six feet apart from others around you.”
“I need to enforce that rule in Hell. If only Angel has listened.”
Alastor stepped back and the portal closed.
“This virus outbreak…what pandemonium…pure entertainment!” Alastor laughed with delight. “So many delusional protestors! Orphans, homeless folk, sick patients waiting for death to bring them home. Mortals dying right and left. Gullible humans don’t know what hits them until it’s far too late.” He never thought such an event could top the drama of the 1929 Stock Market Crash…but here it was.
The crisis briefly brought back memories of the Spanish Flu Pandemic in 1918. Back then, his mother had gotten gravely ill and passed away. At the same time, his father had molested him a second time and left him to fend for himself. He had spiraled into a period of depression, cutting, and fasting…he had snapped and later killed his father in the most painful ways possible. This was when his killing sprees began…during the Roaring Twenties.
How ironic that history has a way of repeating itself after a hundred years. Now, the 2020s age had begun. Alastor had, indeed, snapped once again, though he did not feel helpless nor sad this time.
A second life. A second chance. A second opportunity to make all his enemies perish for good.
Like the virus, Alastor was a nondiscriminatory bringer of death and destruction…
…and humanity was about to enter an even Greater Depression.
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