Someday This Could Be Funny Chapter One: The Thirteenth of February________________________________________The first thought that ran through Crowley’s head as he looked up (and up) at the tall and glowering demon before him, arms crossed and eyes a-flicker, was that he must be able to get out of whatever it was that he’d done without realizing somehow. (Actually, it was Oh sssshit!, but that wasn’t nearly as specific.)“Hi, Hastur, can I he—” he began, and was subsequently slammed into the wall behind him. Tiny outcroppings of stone dug into his back, and he blessed the prevalence of “natural” architecture in Hell. There was certainly something to be said for sheetrock when it came to the list of Favorite Materials to Be Violently Pushed Against.“You’re coming with me tomorrow,” Hastur snarled, fangs bared. He gave the shoulder he’d pinned the junior demon another grind into the rock and balled his other fist tighter into
The Monstermaker: Ch. IThe woman was dead, and his involvement was at an end. Hastur leant against the wall and conjured himself a smoke, wrapping his tongue around the end of the cigarette when he was finished enough and flicking it down his throat. He’d liberated them from the body and they still tasted a little of blood, but that had never stopped him.“Um, Hastur?”The familiar voice shook him out of his reverie. Turning, he beheld a short, stocky figure in a pinstriped suit and raised a brow.The last time he'd seen the demon Phelan, they had both been in the rather awkward position of trying to save the world. It had also been the last time he'd expected -- or wanted, really -- to see him again, ever. Phelan wasn't exactly acceptable dinner-guest material. Admittedly, neither was Hastur most of the time, but the junior demon gave him a vague and nebulous case of the jeebies whenever he spent enough time in his presence.It wasn't the red slit-pupiled eyes and the slight
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