Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arthur Aguefort was planning his new Macguffin to hide for the new school year. "Ah," he thought, "how do I endanger my students but teach them a valuable lesson all the same?" Suddenly, he heard scritching just outside of his office. Was this leftover magic debris from some ill-advised chronomancy? No! It was...

"Hey man, I'm just being a rat here," said a raspy voice. It coughed. "Do you have any bagels? I like them with everything."

"When you say 'everything,' " Arthur Aguefort said, "do you mean garlic and poppyseed and all that, or all of existence? Because I could go for either."

"You're an interesting guy," said Kugrash. "Why does this place smell like dragons?"

"Ah well," said Arthur "that would be the vice-principal who has just been slain in the gymnasium, but pay no mind to that."

"Alright..." Kugrash said sarcastically, like his day was already so weird, what difference did a dead vice-principal make?

Arthur suddenly came closer, looking at Kugrash like he had the answers to his next big riddle.

"And who might you be, you furry little guy?" Arthur Aguefort finished.

"Ah, for a second there I thought you were going to be like 'who are you, intruder!' in that scary booming wizard voice."

"WHO DISTURBS MY FORTRESS," Arthur Aguefort boomed. "Yes, it is quite fun when I do that. But no, I've met talking rats before. Are you from Bastion City?"

"I'm from Noo Yawk city! Greatest city in the wo-- where the heck is Bastion? Upstate?"

Kugrash realized he was very, very lost. This wasn't even a New York City dragon that was dead in the gym. Did this guy say he had time portals?

"About that chronomancy," Kugrash said. "If I was a guy who wanted to warn a guy about being turned into a rat in the 1980s –”
–

Aelwyn looked around. She was in a strange magical place that she hadn't seen before.

She'd heard about time and space being weird from Adaine, but she hadn't expected to land in something that looked like the inside of a child toy crate.

From the corner of the room she heard a strange voice. "Ah, who do we have here?" it said “I'm astronaut Rick Diggins, a--"

"Astro-what?" said Aelwyn, with disdain. "Astrologer? Astronomer? Astronomancer? All of those are words. I do magic."

"Well, I go to space," said Astronaut Rick Diggins. "It's obvious. On account of my space suit."

"You look like a poorly constructed knight errant," sniffed Aelwyn.

"You look like you got somewhere else to be," said Astronaut Rick Diggins, hopefully.

"I don't see anything here I recognize," said Aelwyn. "Except -- is that a cat's whisker?"

Rick Diggins gasped. "You know about cats? The terror of the toy skies?"

Ah. Finally a scenario in which Aelwyn could be smug. "I do."

The man suddenly had a bright expression and exclaimed, "Well then, I have someone you should meet!"

Aelwyn scoffed, as he went behind a corner and returned seconds later, with a mustache on his face.

"Wonderful to meet you, my name is Rich Diggins, businessman. You can tell I'm a businessman on account of my mustache."

Aelwyn couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"I have a proposal for you," the strange little man said. "We have been plagued by a terror. I have reason to believe you might just be the right person to help us!"

“What, a cat?” Aelwyn scoffed. “What’s the worst it can do, vomit on you? Claw you to death?”

“...I see you are familiar with our feline adversaries,” Rich Diggins said. “The claws that strike from the darkness! The perilous hairballs from above! Your absolute self-assuredness makes me believe that this could be the beginning of a beautiful business relationship.”

“I just can’t believe you’re afraid of a little bitty kitty cat,” Aelwyn said.

A low rumble shook the entire crate, and two enormous eyes the size of full moons came into view. Whiskers like telephone wires splayed out from a humongous mouth.

“That’s my cue to skedaddle,” Rich Diggins said, tipping his top hat. “Best of luck!”

"So, I'm an archdemon of Hell, right?" Fig told Jawbone. "and I thought I was making it cool! I turned Hell into a recording studio. I was supposed to be going to class or something, but I just gotta be a free spirit, you know? But there was one guy -- one guy! Who shouted 'noooooo' when I told those souls they were condemned to rock and roll. I condemned one man to his worst nightmare. I think about that every day."

"Uh," said Jawbone. The massive werewolf with a deeply confusing past was typically a really good guidance counselor, but it really seemed like the Bad Kids were out of their depth, and maybe he was too. Maybe he would have better ideas if he took a rest. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe try something new to relax."

"Relax? That's so cringe. I'm the archdevil of rock and roll!"

That night, as Fig slipped into her room under the piano, she had an idea. She would commune with the nightmares or something. That was a thing, right? With magic? Maybe with warlock magic where she was making a promise to herself to...that was confusing. Maybe Kristin was involved. Was she in love with Kristin? Was that cringe?

"So, the nightmares just follow me around," said a voice with a midwestern accent. "I don't know where they came from? They've followed me for as long as I can remember."

"Are you contacting me from a hell dimension?" Fig said to the voice.

"Probably? I dunno. I'm from Iowa?"

"Okay, disembodied voice --"

"Evan Kelmp."

"Kelmp? That name is insane. Do you want to be on a podcast?"

"Like the radio?"

"Like I interview you about being a tortured soul. Because I think that's my thing now."

"Don't you think there would be better people to interview than me? I really don't know who'd wanna listen to that"

"What's better than a disembodied voice from Eye-Hova? We could make it real tragic, or a little sexy, or just really really fluffy."

"Fluffy? Like lint?"

"What?" Fig laughed

"Like, you know, when you wear the same sweater every day for years and in the places where the blood didn't dry in patches, the fabric deteriorates into lint."

"Yeah, I know what lint is, weirdo."

There was a pause, like the voice didn't know what to answer.

"So are you gonna be on my podcast or what?" Fig said finally. "I could really use someone with a crazed mind like yours to dig into the depths of the human trauma."

"Gee.. thanks," answered a defeated voice.

"Come on, it'll be fun! You seem honestly insane, and I really dig that right now."

"I feel like you remind me of somebody," said Evan Kelmp. "But I'm kind of -- between planes right now?"

"I have a recording studio in hell," Fig declared.

"Oh. That sounds like a place I could go if I just tried really hard not to."

With a wild zipping sound, Fig was back within her domain. In front of her was a guy about her age, pretty tall, with long hair. He looked like Adam Driver, whoever that was.

"This is hell?" Evan said.

"Yeah," Fig said with a toss of her head. "I'm the archdevil of it."

"And you use it to make...music?" Evan said warily.

"Yeah! Rock n' roll! It's where my power comes from," Fig explained.

"So not from like...the screams of the tortured," Evan clarified.

"I mean there is that one guy. I feel pretty bad about him," Fig said. "But mostly the screams are like. Being excited about being so metal."

Evan looked kind of sad, and thoughtful. That might just be how Evan looked. But that guy she felt bad about, Evan said he knew how that felt. That his entire life was kind of like that. Bringing bad stuff on people without meaning to. Always trying not to. Always doing it anyway.

"Oh my god, so Emo," Fig said, trying to pretend she wasn't wiping away a tear. "I, um, have no idea what that's like. Keep talking into the microphone. Maybe this can be the like, I've Been To Hell And Back podcast. Except most people in actual hell seem like they're having an okay time --"

Somewhere beyond the recording studio, Bill Seacaster screamed with delight as his dragon-boat speared another minion of the Devil himself.

"But I'm not," Fig said. "Life is so stressful, you know?"

"I know."

Evan was being way too earnest. Fig skateboarded away.

"You can't leave me in literal hell!" Evan shouted.

"Fine, fine," Fig said, skateboarding back. "I'll take you back to my dimension? Because I have no idea where you belong."

"Maybe somewhere outside? Fewer bad things happen outside. Like, wide open areas."

"Bad things happen everywhere," Fig said. "Maybe we can write a song about it."

"And your songs have power...for good," Evan pondered, skeptically.

"My songs have power for Awesome Justice! Do you play keyboard? Or maybe lead guitar?"

"I can try," said Evan. It couldn't go any worse than anything else he had tried.

"I like the new guy," Gorgug said. "He's really tall though. Do you think --"

"He is NOT your dad," said Fig. "He's like sixteen. And he knows how to rock!"

Evan hit a rad note on the electric guitar. For great justice.

—
A review from Hellboard Magazine, the top music industry magazine in the Nine Hells:

“Sophomore slump? Not for Fig and the Sig Figs, who have hit their stride with their latest track featuring a guest lead guitar with a slightly more emo sensibility. Evan Kelmp, who claimed he’s ‘not from around here’ in one of the album’s early interstitial spoken-word tracks, imbues his playing with a tragic melange of haunted melodies. The final track on the album culminates in a power chord that cuts off with an abrupt twang as he’s apparently sucked into the space between the strings of his borrowed guitar.

“When reached for comment, Figeroth Faeth just said, ‘Yeah, I think he went home, man.’

“Despite the emotional sensitivity on display in many of the tracks, the most heartfelt moment comes between the penultimate and the final track, when Faeth makes a call to the guy who never asked to be condemned to an afterlife of rock and roll. Speaking on speaker phone, the two reconcile and discuss the ways in which their lives have intertwined. Though brief, there’s some real closure there. Four out of five anarchy symbols.”

Lord Squak Airavis was quite perturbed. He had been sent to a meetup with a person who was supposed to be a powerful magic user, but the person sitting in front of him was possibly half his size, if not more, at the moment, from being weighed down by more fake necklaces than Squak had ever had the misfortune to see in one place.

He puffed out his chest and looked down on the person.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" he said in a condescending tone.

The girl shot him an almost disgusted look "Who am I?" she asked exasperated. "Who are you?!"

"I am Lord Airavi..." Squak started, when he was rudely interrupted by the creature.

"Are you some sort of prince or something? I was supposed to meet some prince." She almost said it like a prince was deeply beneath her.

"Some sort of prince?" Squak repeated slowly "I am only Lord Squak Airavis of the court of birds! My domain is the entire sky and the sky is full of riches!"

"So you got jewels?" Ostentatia's outfit was full of jewels. She had more rings than fingers. She liked to collect.

"Not exactly," Squak admitted. "But we do need someone who could help us with...our invention."

"I'm a dwarf. I make shit. I talk to the god of dwarfs, who makes the best shit. You got money?"

"Oh ho ho," said Lord Squak Aravais, fixing his lavish blue coat, "I do in fact have money. Now, we have to ask Jeremy Renner --"

Lord Squak Aravais outlined his plan. It involved making it much easier to go visit his cousin and her paramour in the mortal realm. (Because when Squak flew in from court, boy did his arms get tired!) It needed a portal. It needed money. It needed powerful magic. It needed Jeremy Renner, because most things did. Did Squak mention that he himself was a published author? No, it wasn't important. Except that it definitely was.

"When you say the mortal realm," Ostentatia said. "do you mean...here?"

"I'm honestly not sure," Squak admitted.

"We might need a cleric," Ostentatia said. "But, y'know, there's Kristin. Kristin's not busy nowadays."

Kristin Applebees, fully dressed in Wranglers and completely covered in tartar sauce, would beg to differ. She was very busy these days. She was running for class president. She was rescuing a god, probably. She had a massively stressful situation with the classes she was taking and probably passing.

"Yeah," Kristin Applebees said, because she thought Ostentatia was really cute. "Yeah, yeah, I know how to plane shift. Do you need it soon or --"

Ostentatia turned to Squak. Squak looked at Kristin. "What is this...Tartar Sauce?"

"Oh my god," Kristin said. "Have you never done a shrimp jump?"

"What geniuses these mortals be!" Squak exclaimed.

Squak, huge plastic cup of shrimp now in hand and a goblet of tartar sauce in the other, explained the issue to Kristin. "Now. We want to harness the power of the plane shift to make a permanent portal --"

"Hey, security?" said Gorthalax. He was not security, but as a demon who was also a football coach, he looked scary. "You know this is a high school?"

"No, I was unaware!" Squak answered cheerfully. "But if this is a school, of the highest regard, then I seem to be in exactly the right place"

Gorthalax looked at him, and back down at the girls, almost deciding it wasn't worth it, but eventually, he got a little closer to Squak.

"Well, you can't be here," he said, and when Squak scoffed, he took the fey's arm and started dragging him off the school grounds.

"Unhand me at once! I am Lord Squak Airavis, my grandpapa who is in heaven (not dead) will absolutely hear about this!"

Gorthalax chuckled and Ostentatia joined him with a full-body laugh, as the slim fey got dragged off of the campus, watching from further away.

When Gorthalax and Squak reached the parking lot, the demon turned to the fey and asked "Do you mind explaining to me what you were doing here anyway?"

"Ah, nothing simpler, the girl brought me here!"

"The girl?" Gorthalax questioned gruffly "Would you mind being little more specific?"

"Well of course, small thing, covered in colored glass."

Gorthalax turned towards the school, where Ostentatia and Kristen had sneaked up closer, to witness what was happening.

"Ostentatia, d'you know this guy?" Gorthalax pulled Squak from the ground and gestured with him towards the girls.

"Sure, I know him, his name is Mr Skwick Air Jordans and he’s from… fairyland? His grandfather runs, uh, the sky?”

“That’s somewhat right,” Squak said. “Now, if we can just get ahold of one Mr. Jeremy Renner, I believe all of this will become much more clear.”

“Oh, you should have said so!” said Gorthalax, grinning and getting out his crystal. “I’ve got his app installed right here!”