#canon parallel

To me, the entirety of the DSMP has only ever felt like a ridiculously huge crack fanfic that garnered a lot of “inspired by” and fanart, and sometimes things like that just end.

I will continue to reblog DSMP art and maybe post my own stuff, but for the most part, I’ve already made myself comfortable in a new fandom with its own set of problematic discourse.

First

Previous

Waking up shivering, Midoriya decided that he needed a new blanket. He rounded up just enough cash to get what he needed, with some to spare of course, but not too much to where it was suspicious. He got dressed in his normal tacky shirt and pants attire, but with a hat for good measure. “Kurogiri, I’m going out,” he called as he tred through the bar. The nod was subtle and hard to see, Kurogiri was basically physical, colorful fire, but Kurogiri clearly nodded back to show his understanding. Midoriya slipped through the alleyways and to the main street. The hat atop his head kept anyone important from recognizing him, and thankfully he didn’t a background I.D. to get a train pass. He was going to buy groceries and a new blanket, but, to do that, he needed to go to a shopping district. A few stops in, he saw an ugly face. It was a member of one of the less loved gangs. He was known for being a pervert and a rapist. He would lure younger kids, usually teens to early twenties, by harassing them in the bus and following them when they get off. Midoriya gagged when he saw the thing practically on top of two high school boys.

Kirishima and Kiminari were going into town to meet up with their friends for lunch. It was a celebration to Bakugou, Todoroki, and Tokoyami for winning the Sports Festival, and for the fact that no one was hospitalized. The two boys wanted to do a bit of exploring before they met up with everyone for food, so they left early. Unfortunately, it would have been much safer to head with the group. The man towered behind them, hands way to close to things that mattered. Both boys were uncomfortable, but there was too many people on the train to make a scene. They tried ignoring it, but he was getting more bold by the minute. Kiminari suggested using their quirks to make him back up, but Kirishima shot it down. Even if it was a pervert, quirk usage was prohibited in public areas. They whispered solutions, desperately trying to pretend that the large, uncomfortable hands weren’t there. It seemed like a miracle when they left. The boys turned back to see a kid, who was around their age, pinning the brute to the floor.

Midoriya didn’t hesitate to yank that bitch down where he stood. He crouched down to the body, one knee on the floor the other on the man’s chest. The look of fear in his eyes was more satisfaction than Midoriya could explain. He hissed just loud enough so that the thug beneath him would hear, but not so much so that it gave away either of their positions. “Get your disgusting self off of this train before I do something about you. This is not your territory. This is my domain and I will not have your slimy trail leading to my area, so here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get off of this train at the next stop, or I will fill you up with my liquid,” Deku flashed the thin needle of a syringe. The horror on the man’s face said it all. Midoriya stood up, allowing the other to escape. He stayed just within sight, making sure that Deku would see him get off at the next stop. The train pulled up and he bolted.

Kirishima and Kiminari were astounded. Whoever this kid was, he was someone to be feared. While they were shocked that this scrawny, dead eyed kid who was no older than them was terrifying enough to make a grown man, twice their size scared, the two swallowed their fear and went up to thank him. He did save them from embarrassment and possible rape. “Yo, bro! That was super cool and manly! How’d you do that?” Kirishima was the first to start up the conversation. He placed his hand on Midoriya’s shoulder in a friendly way as the doors closed and the train began takeoff again. Kiminari followed up with a cheerful smile and a, “Thanks a lot, that was awesome!” Midoriya froze like a deer in the headlights. He had learned from his past how to fulfill the role of a tormenter, and playing badass was a skill that he had picked up at the bar, but a normal conversation? He had no idea what to do. He gave a sheepish laugh before giving them a response, “It was actually pretty easy, since his center of gravity was off. He was leaning forward, but, since you guys were standing there, I couldn’t push him over. However, it’s just as easy to pull him backwards, once he puts his weight on his back foot, I kicked it from under him. Other than that, all you have to do is be vaguely threatening. They don’t know what you’re capable of. Exploit that,” the art of fight, a language he spoke quite fluently. In his experience, if you can’t carry on a normal conversation, don’t. Both boys were in awe at this kid.

The three sat down on the chairs that opened up after people got off of the train. Kirishima and Kiminari did most of he talking; Midoriya mostly sat between them and added input wherever he was able. The train ride was a decently long one, unlike Midoriya’s conversation, but it wasn’t too far into the ride that he drifted off to sleep. The train tracks sounded like static and that made student’s conversation seem like it was just a television show; it felt like he was watching a movie at midnight was his mom, just like he used to. His head fell to Kirishima’s shoulder as the world faded from existence.

Kirishima almost jumped when he felt hair brush his cheek and a head fell on his shoulder. “Dude,” he called to Kiminari, ignoring any previous commentary, “Dude, he fell asleep.” Kiminari leaned in, confirming what he saw. The green haired kid was dead out. A low voltage shock spanned the short distance as Kiminari poked the boy in his freckled face. “Where do you get off?” it was a very important question, one that thankfully was answered. A sleepy voice answered with the singular word, ‘shopping,’ but it was enough for the boys to know that all three of them were heading to the same place. Kirishima tried activating his quirk and hardening his shoulder, but Midoriya was even more of a rock than the pebbles in the cobblestone path beside the vehicle. Kirishima and Kiminari quite enjoyed the train ride; they bothered the sleeping boy to their hearts content. Kiminari took a picture of the other two before taking a picture with all three of them in it. They both shook the boy awake as they heard their stop being announced as next on the intercom. The boy reluctantly woke just at the right time. The doors opened and boys waved goodbye; Midoriya, who had a set destination, and the two UA students, who were trying to find cool shops near some good food, parted ways as the train left without them.

Midoriya felt a bit stupid for falling asleep so easily, and so heavily for that matter, but what was done was done. He wandered off to find the things on his mental list as time became lost to the oblivion. Afternoon faded to evening as he finished up his shopping. Looking back at the train, he saw a familiar face. Green eyes met red as Katsuki Bakugou blocked out Kirishima and Kiminari’s story. He kept out of his seat and began running towards the figure that saw. “Dude!” Kirishima called aimlessly, but Bakugou was already off the train. The two boys sat back down with everyone that was left and told everyone that he forgot something and would catch the next train. Probably. With heavy emphasis on the probably.

Turning a corner, Bakugou saw him. “Deku?” a breathless pant, almost a question as it left his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Months of being missing, only to find him in broad daylight. Part of him thought that he was wrong, the Deku he knew was lost, but he wasn’t quite wrong… Until he caught the boy, cornered in an alleyway. Green hair poking out of the expanses of a dull, gray hat; freckles went off like a bomb, spreading across his face; the same tacky clothing style that he wore: this was the ‘Deku’ he knew. The blackened abyss under his eyes; the subtle cuts and bruises from various bar fights; the hollow holes in his eyes where the light was shattered: this was the ‘Deku’ that he didn’t know. Bakugou didn’t even need to call out into the alleyway that he saw the boy turn in; Midoriya beat him to the call, “Hey, Kaachan.” Bakugou froze as if the ground fell from beneath him. Hopelessly sputtering, he tried to find the words to portray his thoughts, “D-Deku?” He became speaking before thinking, “What happened? Where have you been? Why are you here?” questions spitting at the speed of light. “Oh, so you care now?” Midoriya replied sarcastically, clearly taking the other male aback. The ‘Deku’ he knew didn’t talk back or use sarcasm, let alone both. “What happened to you?” the real question. Midoriya only smiled, looking sorrowfully off in the distance. The way he held himself changed drastically, but Bakugou had just now realized. “You just vanished one day! Everybody thinks you’re dead! My mom-” another quick questionnaire, but Midoriya cut him off, “Are you trying to convince me that you care?” his tone was deadpan and flat. Looking Bakugou dead in the eyes, now, he continued, “Mitsuki-san is kind: she would have adopted me, you know that, right? She’s not going to let her best friend’s kid go into the fucked up foster care system. Is that what you wanted? Could you even live if we were in the same house?” he hissed. Acid hot on his tongue, he didn’t give Bakugou even a moment to recover, “Anything would have been better than living with you, and I know I’m not the only one that thinks that. If you can look me dead in the eyes and say that you wanted me to stay, go ahead. I dare you,” he challenged, green eyes meet red and sparks flying. Bakugou opened his mouth, but words would come out. Did he want ‘Deku’ to stay? Wasn’t his goal to get him out of his life? His mind raced with contradictions, but, before anything could leave his mouth, he watched Midoriya smile sadly. Green eyes hit the ground, “I didn’t think so,” was uttered as he turned away. Bakugou could only stand, mouth agape; words wouldn’t make their way to his mouth, his body wouldn’t move, but his mind continued to race. As the boy disappeared from sight, Bakugou began walking back to the train station with more questions than answers. What happened to the Deku he once knew?

Next

Tempest had nodded, sweeping the red hair out of her face. “Yes, of course. As long as your father’s alive the bakery will stay in business. More than that, it’ll be successful. Even after he stops working there as a baker he’ll still be seeing profits from it as the owner, enough that he can live in comfort for the rest of his life. You won’t have to worry about him. But it comes at a price,” She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her black dress. “In ten years time, you will be dragged to Hell by a hellhound. Please understand that in return for your father’s bakery doing well for a good sixty or so more years your death will be painful and you will be condemned to Hell. If you take this deal, that’s the price.”

The baker’s son considered this. It was her first deal and she was desperately hoping he would say no. This guy was destined for a happy life otherwise, she could feel it as a crossroads demon, if he walked away from this deal there was a loving family in his future. A white picket fence, a happy wife, two kids and a few dog across his lifetime. Seventy years of all the joys and sorrows and tiny pleasures and pains of human existence. /Walk away mister,/ Tempest thought to herself. /Take care of your dad when the bakery flops and go on to where you’re supposed to be./ But the baker’s son smiled grimly. “That seems fair enough. I’ve washed out of every thing important I ever did and dad always had my back. I want to do this one thing for him, I want to give him a reason to be happy for once.”

/No you poor dolt,/ Tempest thought with alarm. /You dying is going to devastate him! It’s not going to matter to him the bakery does well enough to be on Good Morning America when you’re lying in a graveyard rotting./ But she couldn’t say that. Instead she nodded again. “If you agree to the terms then we’ve got to seal the deal.”

“How do we do that?” The guy said uncertainly then jokingly extended his hand with a shaky smile. Tempest shook her head. She might have laughed if she hadn’t had the humor seared out of her so recently.

“Not like that,” Tempest sighed sadly. “With a kiss.” The guy looked surprised but he licked his lips and leaned in anyway.

Her first deal was technically her second kiss. She hated it.

/Nine years old wasn’t quite old enough to understand the idea eternal damnation. She wasn’t even sure she had even heard the word Hell before then outside of Maleficent calling on the powers of it in Sleeping Beauty. But at nine she certainly understood that she wanted something and the boy was offering it to her.

Her family lived on a crossroads. She had been born here actually, right inside the house. A home birth quite intended by her mother, who was suspicious of hospitals for reason she’d never get to understand. Really it was almost surprising it took nine years to see the demon that had been haunting this spot for the entirety of her short life so far.

“You’re not lying to me?” She said, her little hands on her hips, watching the boy as he grinned at her from over the fence. “I give you my soul and everybody likes me from now on?” She squeaked in surprise and fear, retreating several steps when the boy’s eyes turned a deep bloody shade of red. “Don’t do that, that’s scary!” She told him shrilly.

“Sorry kid,” The boy laughed, blinking and his eyes going back to hazel. “But no I’m not lying when I say I can give that to you. Make the deal with me and you won’t ever get bullied or picked on. Your parents will be wrapped even further than they already are around your fingers. You’ll be everyone’s little princess and they’ll all bend to your little will. Popularity and prizes from all the right people. But it’s a once in a lifetime offer here, phenomenal and just for you.” He grinned. “I don’t make these offers to just anybody of the street. You’re something special and this one time deal is especially for you.”

“What are you going to do with my soul?” She asked suspiciously, blushing at being called special and approaching the fence again, putting her hand on it on top of one of the pickets. “Is it going to hurt?” She was always afraid of pain.

“I’m not going to do anything with it, what happens to your soul is up to the bosses I work for,” The boy smiled at her as he swung one leg over the fence and hopped down into the yard causing her to retreat a couple paces again. “It’s a small matter anyway, we make this deal and in ten years time you’re downstairs in Hell with the rest of us.”

She chewed her nail slowly. “Hell is the bad place right?” Her parents weren’t clear on the concept of the afterlife. In fact they didn’t talk about death at all really. She’d never known anybody yet who died. Unless the goldfish counted but she didn’t think it did. “Really bad?”

“I don’t mind it so much,” The boy shrugged his shoulders. “And it’s not like you can never come back to Earth. We occasionally get to stretch our legs up here, much more than we used to in fact. More often if you’re crossroads like me. Time’s a'wastin’ girl. We have a deal or not?” He cocked his head to one side and gave her a smile that unnerved her and seemed too old and hungry on the boy’s young face.

She thought it over while the demon boy hummed the Jeopardy music. “Okay, okay!” She said finally, having judged in her inexperience that everyone being nice to her seemed like the best possible thing and absolutely worth going to Hell which ten years away seemed too far in the future to even imagine. “I want to do the deal. How do I-” She was cut off into a surprised squeak when the demon kissed her.

That was the first kiss and all the ones that came after would be worse./

Soul two was a young beautician from a small town. A scrawny underfed girl with big dreams and no means or schemes to reach them. “I wanna be a singer,” The girl told Tempest, her eyes taking on a far away look as she imagined herself under the bright lights and adoration of thousands. “Everybody in the gospel choir I used to sing in when I was little told me I had the voice of an angel. But I ain’t got the money to go to Nashville or Hollywood and I won’t ever have it if I’m stuck doing hair for the rest of my life.”

Tempest worried her red lips between her teeth slightly. “You don’t think you could be happy where you’re at?” She asked the girl, who couldn’t be more than a couple years older than Tempest herself was when she had died screaming. If this girl walked out of this deal there wouldn’t be glamor and glitz for her sure, but she was going to be happy. She’d meet truer friends than she’d ever make in showbiz and though she was never destined to grow old and gray, her years would be joyful and packed with love. /What’s the phrase? A bird in hand? Please girl, take care of the bird you’ve got instead of let it go for the two you hear singing from the bush./ “You’d rather leave this life and be famous?”

“I sure would. Get me out of this podunk town please. I want to stretch my wings and fly!” The girl threw her skinny arms wide. “I’ll never be anything otherwise.” She said in a dull sounding voice.

Tempest sighed and shook her head. “As long as you understand what it’s costing you,” She said quietly, watching the girl’s expression as she explained about the hellhound and the pit waiting for her. The beautician never blinked, she never even wavered. If she had, Tempest might not have been able to go through with it.

That kiss has been bitter with the taste of cigarettes. But at least now the girl wouldn’t be facing down extremely malignant and fast moving lung cancer in her mid-thirties that her pack a day habit would have given her otherwise. The length of her life hadn’t be altered a great deal, but the quality of it very much had.

/Nineteen years old, ten years to the day she had made her deal, and she was running and screaming in fear.

For weeks the hideous dog had stalked her. At first it was only glimpses of it out of the corner of her eye so she dismissed it. It was senior year after all, the stress was playing tricks on everybody and she had more to be stressed about than most. Student body president, head cheerleader, valedictorian, expecting to be accepted into an Ivy League school, she had a lot on her plate not including her life outside of school where she had the beauty pageant circuit to run and a budding career as a model.

When she had started seeing the dog more frequently and more clearly she had realized it wasn’t a dog at all. Not that she knew it at the time but it was a hellhound. Something her demon neglected to mention.

Everyone around her called it a nervous breakdown. The stress of her popularity getting to her. They meant well when they shushed her with quiet sweet words and gave her a Xanax prescription then left her all by herself. She took a couple days off from school. She had allowed herself to be soothed and she rested on the couch in her childhood home, almost dozing as the daytime tv programs droned in the background.

It wasn’t until the hound came tearing through the door that she panicked and ran. Around and around the kitchen island it chased her, snarling and snapping as she shrieked in terror. When she darted for the backdoor its claws dragged across her calf leaving burning and bloody slashes. She hobbled out into the yard, throwing the trashcan down behind her in a successful but overall utterly useless attempt to slow the hound down.

Because she had kept physically fit she made it to the fence and hauled herself over, whimpering as the torn flesh of her leg caught and dragged on the picket tops. Running across the road on pure adrenaline, then changing her mind and turning down it to run in the direction of a neighbor’s house where she thought she might be able to hide or get help, she for one moment believed she had gotten away.

She was in the middle of the crossroads, right over the box someone long ago had buried with the black cat bone, graveyard dirt and yarrow, when the hellhound caught her and ripped her screaming to bloody pieces.

The next car to chance upon the intersection and see the carnage carried her father coming home from work but he wouldn’t recognize her until the DNA results came back. Her mother would never accept it at all and would post fliers about her missing daughter until she died of a heart attack two months later./

Deals flew by at that point, though she remembered each one of them. Sometimes she could almost make herself believe that she was being kind to those poor souls despite being the one helping them to condemn themselves to the same terrible fate she had. The sob stories were many. People looking to sell their souls to get out of lifelong debt, to achieve their dreams that they assumed they otherwise could never reach, to cure themselves or a loved one of some horrible and incurable disease, to revert a stroke of terrible luck that had befallen them.

She even resurrected the infant daughter of a grieving couple on her tenth deal. That had been a bad one for her, the father and mother both wanting to be the one to pay the ultimate price, arguing with each other that their soon to be alive again daughter needed the other one more and that the other’s life was worth more. Tempest waited patiently for them, listening to their pained pleas to the other one to let them fall on the sword instead. Eventually the father had been the one to take the price on himself.

The wife looked away, weeping, while Tempest kissed the man as chastely and quickly as she could to seal the deal. “I’m sorry,” She whispered to the couple while tears streamed down their faces. /If I could do this without a deal at all, I would./ Then the dead baby wrapped in the blankets waved its little fist and cried and suddenly the mother and father were overjoyed. The tears still flowed but they were relieved and happy ones. Tempest watched the parents sob and cling to each other, the child in between them, a family again if only for ten short years.

Tempest vanished to go back to Hell. If her eyes hadn’t been red from being a demon surely they would have been red from crying.

They weren’t all noble deals. Petty people summoned her too. People with grudges. People who would leap into Hell for the chance of spiting someone. Tempest could barely hide her disgust when dealing with those types. With her powers she wrecked homes, ruined promising careers, caused all manner of misfortune.

Deal fifty was the worse of those. The man making the deal was an angry man with a hard face and twitchy hands built for violence. His eyes were cold and dead like the eyes of a deep sea creature. “I want her dead,” The man growled. “And the messier the better.”

Tempest was horrified. “You can’t possibly mean that,” The crossroads demon said, shivering at the dark and furious look the man sent her way. “She’s the mother of your children.”

“She took them kids from me, I warned her what would happen if she did and she rolled the dice. Now I don’t know where she ran off to or who she’s fucking now. Do it myself if I did. But you demons, you could find her. Right?” He was flexing his large hands and the small but vicious smile on his face disturbed the demon. This one was headed downstairs whether he made a deal with her or not, if he was asking for anything else she probably wouldn’t have thought twice about condemning him to the hounds then later the hooks. He surprised her by grabbing her wrist. “Come on girlie, we doing this or not?”

Tempest’s eyes swirled red as she telekinetically forced him back away from her and onto the hood of his truck in fear. With her hand still outstretched and holding him there pinned, she took a moment to compose herself. Okay so maybe this guy couldn’t hurt her in actuality but it didn’t mean she had to like being grabbed. While he was cursing she fiddled with her black choker. Maybe the sooner this guy was off the planet the better for everyone even if it cost an innocent person in the sweep of things. At the very least she could probably make sure he never saw his kids again, they would be free of this vicious excuse for a father. “We can make a deal,” She said shakily, releasing her hold on him. “But the terms are this. Your ex-wife dies and you get one year before the hounds come to drag you to Hell. If you violate the deal by attempting to track her or the children down yourself to do anything to them then the deal is instantly revoked and I won’t deal with you again.”

“One year?” The murderous man grumbled darkly, eyeballing her for any sign she was going to toss him backwards again. “I heard it was ten.”

“It’s ten when you’re not asking to have someone killed,” Tempest sighed. He didn’t need to know she was personally writing in a shorter time frame because she found him disgusting and he didn’t need to know that another crossroads demon would likely give him the ten years and allow him to pursue the children to play his twisted games. “Are you agreed or not?”

“Fine fine,” The guy grinned at her darkly, his hands twitchy again. “Is how they say you seal these things true?” Tempest shuddered. She’d rather gargle holy water in all honesty, but she was afraid to return to Hell without a soul.

/Hell was indeed the bad place. She found that out swiftly. The flesh of the soul was so easily burned or rent or shredded. Her physical body was long gone but somehow the pain remained. All her tears and cries and begging meant nothing to the demon working on her. No the black eyed devil actually seemed to enjoy it.

“Please, please don’t!” Tempest screamed, jerking and twisting on the hooks in terror and pain. “Please stop! Please!” She pleaded in agony.

It never made any difference. Every day she was mutilated and mangled and the next day she was whole again only long enough to dread the pain coming back.

“Please STOP!” She screamed as the knife ran between her ribs again, slicing her with butcher like effiency. “I’ll do anything to make it stop!” She didn’t know it yet but her blue eyes had just swirled her particular shade of red. Her torturer stepped back, squinting at her face.

“Red eyes,” The demon said, spitting in her face. “Bloody crossroads bitch. Typical. Always the blubbery crybabies that go that shade. Stop whimpering!” The demon snarled as he pulled her off the hooks. “Take yourself down to the crossroads wing and talk to that bastard Crowley. He’ll put you to work all right.” The demon chuckled as she stumbled and skidded slightly on the floor slippery with her own blood. “He likes collecting pets, maybe you’ll be one o’ them before he gets bored and forgets about you like he did the last tart. Go on, get out of here, I got more souls to rack. Unless you’ve developed a taste for what I do t'you.”

She fled the room, head ducked down, arms crossed over her heaving chest, hands clutching her shoulders for the only comfort she could take in this place. She only lasted twenty years in Hell before she got her new eyes and her new name. Then she got her assignment. Her job was now to take human souls and put them through the same pain as her.

The fresh pain from having her humanity ripped from her and the fear of being racked again made it easy to agree to do that. Anything for it not to hurt anymore./

By the ninety-fifth soul Tempest only wanted out. Whether she was granting good wishes or bad, she was more and more horrified each time she touched her lips to another’s. Her contracts were coming in now, she didn’t see the souls themselves down in the Pit but she knew when one ran out. A little boost in power, a little darker the red on her eyes, a little more ugly she looked when she got to see her own face underneath the meat.

She wanted to run. Demons did run sometimes. Not everyone wanted to stay in the Pit. They popped out through secret channels into the earthly realm and tried to hide out as best they could living either like beggars or kings depending on their personality. It didn’t matter in the end, they all were dragged back bloody and screaming by hellhounds, to face terrible punishments.

Nobody cheats the devil. That’s what the message was. If one was stupid or naive enough to make a crossroads deal, or sinned enough to get a ticket for that downward ride, one had to pay the price and the price was being a demon and doing Hell’s bidding. Even when Tempest found something comforting in the Pit, she was never going to think her ten years of love had been worth the price of it.

/”Well don’t just stand outside knocking, come in,” The British accented voice snapped from behind the door. Tempest nervously turned the handle and entered the chambers of the King of the Crossroads. Crowley was at his desk, scribbling away with a pen on some scrolls probably accounting souls and going over contracts. For once none of his awful hounds were present and Tempest stopped shaking quite so badly. It was /almost/ bearable as long as the huge and monstrous hellhounds the King was so fond of weren’t in here. She could almost pretend this wasn’t Hell. Crowley was a demon that strove to have all the creature comforts he had enjoyed while alive. It would have felt like being on Earth again if not for the constant screams in the background and the ever present stink of sulfur.

“You-you sent for me sir?” Tempest said hesitantly, rubbing her arm. She was in her favorite guise, the young and beautiful redhead that everyone seemed so fond of seeing her wear. Her greatest shame was being unable to forgo her need to be liked, even when that had gotten her down here in the first place.

Crowley looked up at her from over the top of his glasses. “Ah yes, Tempest right Darling?” He set aside his pen.

“Yes sir,” She said hesitatingly. She wasn’t used to demons remembering her name. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely used to remembering her new name yet either. She had been sorry to lose her old one, but it seemed only the most powerful demons chose to retain their human name and Tempest knew her place. She was a red eyed bitch and only a half a step from the bottom at that. “You wanted to see me?” Her voice shook slightly. She had only met the Crossroads King twice before. Once during what was apparently the regular introduction where the King took stock of new talent and the other was after her fiftieth deal. He had wanted to know why she had shortened the standard contract of ten years to only one.

She had been terrified he would be angry with her but to her surprise he only seemed amused when she told him she had reduced the time from ten years to one because the man had disgusted her and been grabby. Crowley laughed and told her that as long as she was mostly honest about the terms of a contract she was within her rights to set the time limit however short she wanted but that he /strongly/ advised her that she not play too often with custom contracts and shortened deals. Tempest didn’t mess with the terms again after that. She wasn’t a total idiot, he had smiled and chuckled as he was talking with her but the way he had squeezed her shoulder as he had told her not to set her own rules too often had been hard. There was no mistaking the warning there. She didn’t want to test the boundaries of the King’s nature and wind up on the wrong side of him.

“What number are you up to in your deals Darling?” Crowley asked her as he sat at the desk, pulling her back to the present.

She fidgeted nervously. “I just completed my seventieth deal.” An elderly woman that wanted her cataracts healed. Tempest had given her ten years but she doubted the woman would live long enough to see the hounds, if the weakening heart had been any indication. That was a small comfort, the nice old lady might eventually be tortured in the pit but she was much more likely to pass away quietly before the hellhounds got anywhere near her.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Seventy is quite a number for such a young demon like yourself,” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You must be working overtime very often Darling.”

Tempest shrugged, casting her eyes downwards. “I just do what they tell me,” Tempest mumbled quietly. “I don’t request assignments.” The other demons seemed to think it was funny to watch her squirm in discomfort when having to do crossroads work so often, against their own benefit, they’d put her on more jobs.

“Interesting,” Crowley said as if to himself, rubbing his chin with his thumb. “And how many souls have you lost in comparison to the seventy you’ve successfully landed?”

Tempest blinked and looked back up at him. “Lost?” She asked haltingly. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what you mean by lost.”

“I mean, sweet girl,” Crowley said slowly, as if he was explaining things to a child which Tempest considered fair enough really as she’d died before finishing high school. “How many souls slipped your hook? How many got cold feet at the last second and backed out? Even the best of us have it happen once,” The King of the Crossroads smirked at her. “Maybe twice. But it happens. So how many didn’t want you to seal their deals?”

Tempest blinked again. Now she was incredibly nervous. He was going to think she was lying. “None,” She said as quietly as she could, fighting the urge to try to flee the room. “I’ve never had anybody back out of a deal.”

Crowley’s smirk pulled into a frown quickly. “Excuse me?” He said in disbelief, he stood up out of the chair and prowled around the desk towards her, his eyes filling with black. “My dear girl, it isn’t very smart to lie to me. There’s not a crossroads demon in Hell that’s bowling a perfect game. In fact none of the demons, except perhaps Azazel, have closed every deal they’ve proposed and even he had some of the ponies balk monetarily I’m certain.”

“I’m not lying!” Tempest said in a panicky voice as she took several quick steps backwards away from the other demon, shivering at the black eyes that she was certain meant he was angry. “I closed on every single deal I was called for, honest!” Seventy times topside for a summons and seventy souls marked with the invisible contract that would send them downstairs. She could remember each and every one of them, their desperation and their desire. “I wouldn’t dare lie, please. You’re the King, everybody knows it. It would be stupid of me to lie to you. I always seal the deal. Maybe I-I’m just lucky.” /Maybe I’m just bad luck for everybody I talk to, they all die,/ Tempest thought bitterly.

Crowley stopped, sweeping her with the black stare. Slowly the inky darkness ran out of his eyes. He waved a hand, dragging her back closer with his powers, scrutinizing her. She must look like an honest demon because he dropped his hold on her and smiles. “Well aren’t you a perfect princess then? Such a talent. Sit down Darling,” He indicated a chair, moving to return to his own seat behind his desk. “I want to go over your work. We’ll see if we can’t figure out the secret to your astounding success so I can teach your approach to my other minions. Hell can always use more souls, the less that get away from us the better.” He poured himself a drink from an ostentatious looking bottle. “Do you drink scotch sweet girl?”

Tempest shook her head at the offered alcohol. “No, no I’m not old enough,” Though suddenly she realized that wasn’t true anymore. She’d been down here long enough that even without time in Hell flying by faster than years on Earth, she had well passed her twenty-first birthday by now. She shuddered and looked down at her knees, her hands twitching in her lap. Eternity was starting to have meaning even if the concept could not be fully grasped by her yet. She was down here forever, she would miss all the milestones and experiences she should have had as a human girl and be stuck as this hideous wretched demon all because she had wanted to be liked. /Stupid,/ Tempest thought bitterly to herself, /stupid child, stupid girl./

Crowley laughed quietly. “You’re in Hell, Princess. That’s not one of our rules.” When she looked up at him he had paused with the glass halfway to his mouth and was looking at her with curiosity. She could almost see him doing the math regarding her comment and figuring out her age when she had died. “You’re a bit of an odd duck aren’t you? Just exactly how old were you when you got down here originally?” He was regarding her now with interest that hadn’t been born from scorn and without the hungry bite that some of her marks, and a few of the other demons, looked at her with. He just seemed puzzled by her, in an affable way. It was far from the sneering and jeering she got from other demons.

Tempest broke down and shared just about everything she had leftover from her human life. She couldn’t help it. She had spent so long without approval after craving it so badly she’d sold her soul over it. She was desperate for somebody to look at her and mean well. Maybe to find sympathy even if it came from a devil.

Chapter 9: The Revelation

The story so far . . .

When Nathan finally parked his truck at the base of the path up the light house, he just sat in the driver’s seat with the engine off for a long moment. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly while he tried to talk himself into getting out of the car. The stillness of it, of finally letting himself sit still, left him boiling, expanding inside the car until he thought he must burst the windows.

It burst from his mouth instead, “Fuck you!” He pulled on the steering wheel so hard that he hoped to pull it off, imagined that he could for a second. “Fuck you! Fuck you, you piece of shit.” He wasn’t strong enough to kill the steering wheel through dismemberment, so he pounded it with his fist, although the pain it sent through his knuckles and palm was far more than he had accounted for. 

D’aww, I feel all fuzzy and warm inside at the endearment <3 Basically fics that take canon timeline/events and Sterkify it, changing how canon would have worked? I haven’t read those in a while, I have to say, BUT I SURE DO HAVE SOME RECS! (That Soulmate one by Survivah is one of my favourites <3)

Full On Rainstorm by BarlowGirl This just might be my favourite fic under 20K. This is beautiful and set post-Nogitsune, and features a pining Derek. The writing is magical and parts of it just made me ache, not just for Sterek reasons but for Derek’s past. There’s this line where he talks about giggling with Laura at Christmas and I just…I don’t think a fic has ever quite done that to me before with one word. Just made me want to cry and curl up into a ball. The dialogue is spot on and the build up is wonderful.  

The Price by theroguesgambit (halekingsourwolf) You’ll probably know this fic, but there is no way I am not putting it in here. This fic broke my heart and it’s so beautifully told. It’s so believably canon too, and the plot unfolds in a way where you feel like you’re drowning, but know if you can just get to the end you’ll be wrapped up in a nice, warm Sterek blanket. Story telling at its best. (Also, bottom!Derek. Just saying ;)) 

There’s the Rewritten Series by linksofmemories (erinpond) I read this series a long time ago, and while I can’t remember the specifics I remember loving it.  This is 25 fics for one I am giving you here! The author basically takes canon and makes it all Sterek (bless them). This is my favourite one- possessive Derek and sub!Stiles ;)

The Rest of Your Life by paradis WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF STILES AND DEREK HAD BECOME BEST FRIENDS IN THE BEGINNING?! This is not angsty, and it’s not canon, per se, but it’s still canon in a round about sort of way. It’s influenced by When Harry Met Sally and I COULDN’T HIT THE KUDOS BUTTON FAST ENOUGH. This is a light fun one for you to read. Perfect.

Famous Last Words Series by JenNova Canon, but with sex pollen. These are some of the first fics I ever read in this fandom and I adore them <3

Telescoping Effect by relenafanel (relenafanel) This is your classic voyeurism fic based around the time Derek first moved into the loft. It’s another fluffy one (I seem to be giving you a lot of those, sorry) and I am reccing it because DEREK HALE DOES THE TOM CRUISE RISKY BUSINESS DANCING IN HIS UNDERWEAR  MOVE. That image will never leave me. Ever. 

Something I’m Not Seeing by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) This is a really sweet one where everything is pretty calm in Beacon Hills, and the pack somehow accidentally bring younger Derek into the present. I love it so much because I think it beautifully explores how young Derek reacts to Stiles without the trauma older Derek has suffered. For me, it’s one of those gorgeous fics that shows how Derek and Stiles are perfect for each other, but at the same time shows that they can help each other. One reason I ship Sterek is because Stiles is the one to bring Derek’s younger self “out to play” so to speak, and what this fic does is combine how Derek’s selves, past and present, need Stiles in different ways, but need him nonetheless.