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thestarkerisobvious · 4 years

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a sneak-peak of my WIP (which is an AU which is stupid because I DON’T DO AUs) that involves Peter Parker as Spider-Man, and Demon!Tony.

But my 666th follower PASSED and I still wasn't anywhere close to a place where I COULD do this so really this is in honor of follower #777.

#777 is the NEIGHBOR of the Devil, so that’s just as good, right???

...bit number one...

The Ceremony Hall

The thunder was deafening. Still, Spider-Man did his best speak over it, apologizing profusely to the Goetia worshipers whose Seal-of-Murmur ceremony he had interrupted. He was just there to apprehend the diamond thief, not disrespect their worship service just because it was different from his. He didn’t want to be disrespectful.

Altogether the Goetia worshipers were the most polite group he had ever encountered. Yes, they were an intimidating-looking lot with their black robes and twisted-stone knives. But when a reasonable voice called out (over the thunder) that the ceremonial knives were easily-broken irreplaceable relics should be safely stored away until the misunderstanding was cleared up, and the knives put away into their ornate wooden boxes, the group became much friendlier.

…the hoods were removed to reveal the group for what they were, a collection of old white men (and one woman) all attempting to recreate a New York City fad from the 1920’s. All bepeckled elderly bookworms with encyclopedic knowledge of their particular nitch (and willing to overshare.) All a little appalled at the idea of actual violence (and all a little stark-struck at the idea of meeting Spider-Man.)

All together, Peter realized, it was just another geekfest. Spider-Man felt right at home.

The unlikely diamond thief, too, was unusually cooperative (ultimately dispirited, it appeared, when it turned out his fellow Goetia worshipers did NOT approve of his illegal methods.) Somewhere a tinny jazz trumpet was playing in the distance (the cultists had an excellent sound system) as a hastily-called board-meeting was held and a motioned passed to allow to suspend the celebration until the matter of the stolen Amulet (the famous Infernal Star from the X museum, an ugly art-deco pendant made from 5 cloudy unmatched diamonds) was cleared up.

Spider-Man was invited to wine and cakes while they argued about how their jewel-thief would turn himself in.

Spider-Man was struck by how polite they all were.

Sitting in a folding chair surrounded by a few of the younger members of the group (all in their 60s and 70s) he was regaled by stories of how popular it had among wealthy New Yorkers to attempt to summon demons from the Ars Goetia in the 1920’s. Particularly popular, ‘rival magicians’ (all the rage in the roaring twenties!) who inevitably tried to throw wrenches into the works, making sure the ceremony wasn’t perfect. Two men with identical Boston accents and identically bald heads (Spider-Man eventually figured out that they were brothers) explained why the ceremony had to be perfect. They went into quite a bit of detail on the subject, until they themselves got into an argument over the order of the ceremonies. They reminded Spider-Man of Star Trek nerds arguing over who was the better captain, Kirk or Picard. He was wondering if they were going to come to blows before they were called away for the final vote. Spider-Man sat back in his chair and enjoyed his crescent-cake. He had seen similar fights at Star Trek conventions.

They weren’t “cultists” so much as New York City history nerds, he had decided as he sat the sole woman of the group, the only non-voting member, told him even more stories over the cakes and wine. The Ceremony Room was no more ominous than a fan-art auction. Those long black robes no more bizarre than elaborate Klingon costumes at a convention. Recreating the roaring-twenties craze of celebrating demons? Pure history geekdom.

He told himself that over and over again.

(The truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was compelled to sit in this folding chair, his mask half-up to eat the dry crescent-shaped cookies and sip wine from a plastic cup as the white-haired old lady told endless stories of rival magicians were constantly sabotaging each other’s ceremonies as points of pride. Oh yeah, he was waiting for the board to vote on how their law-breaking member was going to turn himself in. That’s what he was waiting for.)

“Who could research the most powerful demon from the Ars Goetia, and who could recreate the ceremony the closest? Amduscias was the most popular. Amduscias was the voice heard in storms, and when he spoke he was always accompanied by the sound of trumpets,” she bragged in her tiny, birdy voice. “He could give concerts on command, given by invisible instruments. He was very popular during the Jazz movement,” she informed him.

“That explains the music,” Spider-Man said around his seventh dry crescent cake, gesturing toward the tune (currently an all-brass rendition of “It Don’t Mean A Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing”) playing overhead. But the woman didn’t quite seem to understand what he meant. There were several things she didn’t seem to quite understand. That’s why he declined her first invitation to come back next week to for the re-attempt at the ritual to summon Amduscias, Duke of Hell, Commander of the 29. Nor did he take a lyric-sheet for the chant to Open The Seal Of Murmur.

He was the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman, but that seemed a little TOO friendly.

In the early hours of the morning the storm quieted and the elderly worshipers ran out of stories to tell (and wine to serve) Spider-Man finally managed to pull himself away, escorting the diamond thief to the police station and turning in the Infernal Star medallion as evidence. He didn’t consider the evening waisted. After all, there had been no blood shed, no punches thrown. He considered the entire adventure a win-win.

Especially because he got to meet Anthony, the shy, nerdy but brilliant librarian who had joined the entire affair at the last moment as a translator. He was seemed very overwhelmed by the series of events but very taken with Spiderman’s open-minded view of the ceremony he had interrupted. In a dark underground room full of mournful men lamenting into their plastic cups of wine, (‘rival magicians’, they all assured each other. This was because of ‘rival magicians’) Anthony was electric and elated.

And if college student Peter Parker just *happened* to wind up in that obscure section of the Music & Arts library the next day where said librarian and mentioned (when quizzed about his dayjob?) What could Peter say? The man was shy and brilliant and adorable.

I was asked to tag: @somechick842

#Demon!Tony #The Voice In The Storm #First Post of 3?

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drkoestersmithrpg · 4 years

Text

The Voice In The Storm

Altogether the Goetia worshipers were the most polite group he had ever encountered. Yes, they were an intimidating-looking lot with their black robes and twisted-stone knives. But when a reasonable voice called out (over the thunder) that the ceremonial knives were irreplaceable relics should be safely stored away until the misunderstanding was cleared up, and the knives put away into their ornate wooden boxes, the group became much friendlier.

…the hoods were removed to reveal the group for what they were, a collection of old white men (and one woman) all attempting to recreate a New York City fad from the 1920’s. All bepeckled elderly bookworms with encyclopedic knowledge of their particular nitch (and willing to overshare.) All a little appaauled at the idea of actual violence (and all a little stark-struck at the idea of meeting Spider-Man.)

All together, Peter realized, it was just another geekfest. Spider-Man felt right at home.

The unlikely diamond thief, too, was unusually cooperative (ultimately dispirited, it appeared, when it turned out his fellow Goetia worshipers did NOT approve of his illegal methods.) Somewhere a tinny jazz trumpet was playing in the distance (the cultists had an excellent sound system) as a hastily-called board-meeting was held and a motioned passed to allow the resident antiques-broker to examine all their artifacts after their ritual was complete in the event that others were stolen items as well.

Peter thought that was very sporting of them.

They weren’t “cultists” so much as New York City history nerds, he had decided as he sat in a side room and listen to the one woman of the group tell stories over cakes and wine. Their long black robes no more bizarre than elaborate Klingon costumes at a convention.

He told himself that over and over again.

The truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was compelled to sit in this folding chair, his mask half-up to eat the dry crescent-shaped cookies and sip wine from a plastic cup as the white-haired old lady told endless stories of how popular it had among wealthy New Yorkers to attempt to summon demons from the Ars Goetia in the 1920’s. “Amduscias was the voice heard in storms, and when he spoke he was always accompanied by the sound of trumpets. He could give concerts on command, given by invisible instruments. He was very popular during the Jazz movement,” she informed him.

“That explains the music,” Spider-Man said around his seventh dry crescent cake, gesturing toward the tune (currently an all-brass rendition of “It Don’t Mean A Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing”) playing overhead. But the woman didn’t quite seem to understand what he meant. There were several things she didn’t quite understand. That’s why he declined her first invitation to join in the re-started ritual to summon Amduscias, Duke of Hell, Commander of the XX, nor take a lyric-sheet for the chant to Open The Seal Of Murmur.

He was the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman, but that seemed a little TOO friendly.

In the early hours of the morning the storm quieted and the elderly worshipers ran out of stories to tell (and wine to serve) Spider-Man finally managed to pull himself away. He didn’t consider the evening waisted. After all, there had been no blood shed, no punches thrown. He considered the entire adventure a win-win.

Especially because he got to meet Anthony, the shy, nerdy but brilliant librarian who had joined the entire affair at the last moment as a translator. He was seemed very overwhelmed by the series of events but very taken with Spiderman’s open-minded view of the ceremony he had interrupted. In a dark underground room full of mournful men lamenting in to their plastic cups of wine, Anthony was electric and elated. And if college student Peter Parker just *happened* to wind up in that obscure section of the Music & Arts library the next day where said librarian and mentioned when quizzed about his dayjob? What could Peter say? The man was shy and brilliant and adorable.

* * *

“You smell like confusion,” Anthony said to him when Peter finally found the man after searching the Wiener Library for over an hour. It was a strange way to start a conversation, but [he goes into brag about their Asian selection (oral history section?)] which saved Peter the trouble of remembering his lame excuse for being there. (He was a math/chemistry double-major at Columbia, and had no real reason for being in the Music & Arts Library at all. He made Peter’s life even easier when he ended his gushing praise of the [ X ] by suggesting he and Peter attend the Y at the Z that started in an hour.

“Peter Parker,” Peter said, offering his hand to shake. It was the first he had said in five minutes. Anthony had been talking to him as if they were old friends the entire time.

The man looked at his hand, baffled.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

The man with the dark eyes looked at him curiously, but took his offered hand.

“Anthony Rowley. Just like the song.’

#A Voice In The Storm

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