#stagefic

[stageofhearts]

Stage and the Family

Well this came out a little longer than expected.

Stage didn't like day jobs.

As a general rule he just wasn't interested. Performances were different, of course; but even then Stage spent the majority of his time in community theaters, where the practices were all at night.

He had his teaching job, obviously. But the god had long ago decided that paperwork was for mortals; and as such generally had one of his own minions write out his lesson plans. The fact that he never had tests or essays in his class helped too.

Today, however, Stage found himself staring up at the huge tower of Amber's office, wishing he had just stabbed her in the throat and been done with it. He had tried talking to his genres to figure out a way out of this, but the contract was air tight. So here he was, wearing a tan trenchcoat over his black suit, his mask in place, but cast slightly in shadow by the fedora he wore. Normally Noir wore this outfit, but Stage thought it was more appropriate for his current situation than his normal garb.

After a moment's hesitation he sighed and walked through the main door. Inside he saw a few minor demons hanging around waiting for a job. Against one wall was a desk where a demoness sat, her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. She was busily typing on the keyboard of the computer in front of her, barely glancing up at Stage when he entered. She did a double take when she saw the mask on his face.

"Can I help you?" she inquired, pushing her glasses up higher to get a better look at him.

Stage approached casually, ignoring the looks the demons in the room were giving him. "I'm looking for the armory."

The demoness blinked at him. "I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

Stage sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk. "Fine. Just let Amber know I'm on my way up, alright?" he turned and headed for the elevator.

Two bulky demonesses stepped in front of the doors. "And just where do ya think you're going shorty?"

Stage tapped the forehead of his mask in annoyance. "I'm going to find Amber or one of the four to find out where they want me to start working on a better arsenal for you thugs. Now if you'd like to waste the time of two gods you can call up and double check, or you can get the fuck out of my way." He looked at both of them, and his mask's grin suddenly seemed mocking.

The demonesses looked at each other, then the larger of the two stepped up to Stage, looming over him. "Ya sure like to run your mouth huh? Just remember that the Boss can turn ya into dog meat if ya dare step outta line. You got that, shorty?"

Stage rolled his eyes behind the mask. "Yes, yes she's very scary that's nice. Now move." He pushed past the two of them, pressing the up button on the elevator. The doors open immediately, and Stage stepped inside, hitting the button for the top floor.

A few minutes passed, then the doors opened. Brutus stood at the entrance, blocking most of the light from the room. "Oh. It's just you."

Stage cocked his head to one side. "Just me? Really?" He sighed and shook his head. "No respect. Whatever, just tell me where I'm setting up shop."

Brutus raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Just make the weapons and be done with it."

Stage sighed, reaching out a hand to stop the elevator doors from closing. "It's not that simple. Move, and I'll explain."

Brutus grudgingly moved aside, and Stage slipped past him into the room proper. It looked like the only others currently in were Kevin, who didn't even look up when Stage entered, and Tony, who tipped his hat casually, a gesture Stage returned. "Tony. Good to see you again." He turned to look back at Brutus. "Anyway, it doesn't normally matter, but most of the things that I summon can't maintain existence away from me for too long. I can counteract that, but only by creating the item in much finer detail, a process that can take minutes for say, a sword, about half an hour for a gun, or longer the more complex it gets. I can make you a jaeger, but it'd take at least a week."

Brutus nodded after a moment. "Alright, fine. I'll talk to Amber and see where we can get you set up. Stay here."

Stage spread his hands. "Where am I going to go? Take your time." He sat in a nearby chair, watching Brutus disappear into the office. He looked over at Tony. "So, how's the girlfriend?"

Tony grinned, a little flush coming to his cheeks. "Fiancee now. And she's doin great, just got a big gig at a club in town."

Stage smiled beneath the mask, pushing the brim of his hat up. "Fiancee? That's great, when's the wedding? Oh and where's this gig?"

Tony shrugged. "Don't have everything planned out just yet, ya know? Complicated stuff, weddings." he smiled. "The gig is in that club down on fifth street. Pretty damn good pay too. She was thrilled."

Stage chuckled. "Weddings have always been confusing. The modern ones may actually be some of the simplest in a long time. I'll have to stop by that club some time, see if I can't catch the show."

At that moment, Brutus emerged from the office. "Alright, c'mon kid. We got a room for ya."

Stage stood and followed. "Kid? I'm six thousand years old."

Brutus looked over his shoulder with a smug grin. "Yeah. Kid."

Stage sighed. "You're insufferable."

Brutus smirked, leading him down a hallway to a large empty room. "Yeah well, you'll get used to it. Here's your workshop. Amber told me that you're welcome to sleep here if you want to, but you should know that Fyre sleeps in the building most nights."

Stage shrugged. "Yeah I can camp out for awhile I guess. Certainly better than dealing with your security every day." He summoned a worktable and chair. "As for Fyre, don't worry I'll be fine." he sat and cracked his knuckles. "Alright, I'll get started."

Brutus nodded and turned to leave, pausing just before passing the threshold. He hesitated, then turned back to Stage. "Look... the guys are going out to the pub down the street tonight. You want to come?"

Stage blinked, cocking his head to one side. "What, just the four of you?"

Brutus nodded. "Whim stays here whenever all four of us are gone. Just in case."

Stage leaned back in the chair, then nodded. "Yeah, actually. I'd be happy to come along." He slid off his trench coat and suit jacket, then rolled up his sleeves and leaned forward.

Brutus turned and headed outside. Before he got too far, Stage looked out from the doorway after him. "Brutus?"

The former god turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks." Stage ducked back inside and set to work.

[stageofhearts]

Epilogue part 1

This isn't nearly as emotional in my opinion. But it's actually really important for understanding Stage for who, and what, he is. 

If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask.

Stage really didn't like this place. Hadn't been here since the fall of Rome. His realm had three major sections that anyone, mortal or otherwise, could enter at will. Then there was his private study, which could only be accessed by certain gods. There was, however, another part of his realm. It was the newest, though it was certainly not new. And only he could enter.

All around him he saw himself, each in different outfits. He knew instinctively that he was in his true form, the laurels itchy on his head. The other forms were all staring at him, each in a different mask. His preferred body was the only one that was missing, which didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was Tragedy. It still stood, slashed, stabbed, and bleeding. The black mask was back on its face, though it looked crueler somehow, as it always did.

It was Tragedy that approached him first, its expression blank. "You lost control. I won. Just like I did back in Rome. Why don't you just admit it?"

Another Stage, clad in wine red from head to toe, his normal suit replaced with a cloak, and the mask a complicated mass that ended up looking vaguely like a man with two curved horns, approached as well. "You know that letting Tragedy take control for any length of time leads to nothing but death."

Stage grimaced. "Yes, I know Horror. But what choice did I have?"

Yet another of the Stages awoke, wearing a fur rimmed tunic with a helm that covered all but his eyes, which were a blank white. "Awaken any of us! The work could have been done in better ways. We did not need to have so much bloodshed!"

Another woke, this one in a clean white suit, his mask a simple white one that curved along his face, ending at his temples. It had a diamond in its center. "You let him kill thousands of people! Innocent people! You watched him do it just so that you could get your petty revenge!"

Stage roared in anger and the genres all stepped back for a moment. "I KNOW THAT!" He turned and backhanded Tragedy, sending the smaller version of himself flying across the room. Stage took a long, shuddering breath. "I know what I've done. I know what... what we've done." He looked around at the genres. "I know better than any of you. You get the luxury of watching, you bastards. You get to watch and pass judgement. I felt their blood on my hands. I felt myself pull the trigger. None of you know the power, the rush that comes from a gun held against their head. The feel of a cold remote as you press a button and wipe out thousands of people. Except for him." he pointed at the broken body of Tragedy, even as the being slowly began to force itself to its feet. "He knows. He's always know. None of you could have accomplished what that monster can."

A slow laughed echoed through the room. Tragedy coughed, blood splattering on the ground. "Yes, tell them how you hate them. Tell us how you hate us. Oh grand creator. Oh maestro. Lord Fate. Need I remind you that we exist because of you? You, pushing the mortals to the heights of greatest joy, the depths of greatest sadness. All to expand your power so that you could fulfill their beliefs. You may act flexible, but that's all it is. In the end you've always been too scared to let yourself feel anything. Is it any wonder we exist? All your emotions had to go somewhere, where better than the stories your beloved humans created?"

Stage rushed forward, punching Tragedy in the face hard enough to send it flying again. "SHUT UP!" Tragedy collided with a column, smashing through it. "I swear I will kill you. I will find a way."

The laugh came again, and then Tragedy was in front of Stage, its hand closed around the taller god's throat. "You can't kill me. I am you. So is Horror. And Romance, and even Fantasy. We are all you. We are the stories that play out on your Stage." Tragedy dragged Stage down to eye level. "You're useless without us. Useless as a god, and useless as a guardian. She'd be dead if it wasn't for me. They both would be." It laughed again and threw Stage, the god sliding across the floor. The genres approached, even as others woke up and gather around him. Still, it was Tragedy that spoke. "Face it. The sooner you accept us and let us help you, the better off you'll be."

Stage stood, "You... you fleeting, inflexible bastards are not me. You," he pointed at Tragedy, "are nothing but a monster created by sadism."

Tragedy laugh. "Yes. Your sadism. Sure the humans may empower me, but you gave me form."

Stage charged again, in his hand he held Anduril. He raised it to attack, but it flew out of his hand and Fantasy caught it. "Oh that was a bad choice." Stage growled and pulled another weapon from the air, Gungnir. He aimed it at Fantasy, but it too was pulled from his grasp. Another genre, wearing Thor's armor and a silver mask that gleamed in the dull light of the room, caught the weapon.

Stage growled in anger and pulled a pair of revolvers from holsters that appeared on his hips. They as well flew away, landing in the hands of a Stage with a stetson and a bandana pulled up around his mouth and nose, his garb straight out of a western.

Desperate, Stage pulled the Samaritan from the air. Tragedy merely laughed at him, holding up an exact copy. "I wonder which of us is the better shot?"

Stage looked around himself, the reality of the situation sinking in. No matter whether he or Tragedy won their little duel, he'd be killed in an instant. He glared and pulled the hammer back on the gun. "Wouldn't be the first deicide under my belt." That's when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him to see... "Blink? How-"

The minor god shook his head. "No time, going now." He grabbed Stage and the two fell through a hole in the floor, appearing back in Stage's private room. Stage's form flickered, then it reverted to his normal form, who promptly collapsed into unconciousness.

Blink dragged the god to bed, sighing. "Don't worry Stage. I've got your back. Even if you don't." He walked into the kitchenette in the room and started preparing some hot chocolate. "You really don't know just how much better you could be if you just made peace with them. We might have avoided all of this." he shook his head and took the hot chocolate over to Stage, leaving the cup on the bedside table, then leaned over and kissed the god's forehead. "We'll see if we can't get this fixed yet."

[stageofhearts]

I have to ask... please do not post any more things that are designed to rip people's emotions apart. Not for a day or two at least. This is getting excessively out of hand. Several people have had to be coaxed into not leaving godmode entirely. I'm not telling you to not write, or to alter your story, but give people time to recover from the last chapter before destroying them again

… I will grant you the benefit of the doubt on this. I will assume your intentions were good.

However. 

I take issue with some of your assertions.

1. I do not set out to write things “designed to rip people’s emotions apart.” I set out to write a good story. The way this has turned out is due to how characters interact. I will acknowledge that it has the potential to bring out emotion in people, but that is the purpose of all art.

2. Nothing is getting out of hand. I post my fics under cuts, with warnings about the contents and make no attempt to hide that they are tragic in nature. I do not, in any way, shove my writing in the face of the tag. The self control of the individuals who knowingly read them, knowing that they will be upset, is not my problem. If you keep reading when it’s not healthy for you to do so, that’s on your own head. 

3. You are, no matter what you say, trying to control how I create and produce my art. The issues with that have been stated at length by people far more experienced and eloquent than I.

4. Who are these people? Why did a noncanon group of fics that they actively had to seek out and read upset them so? If it did, why did they keep reading?

5. I am not the only person who makes things in the au. There’s absolutely nothing stopping you or anyone else from creating fluff or happy things to counter the feel of my fics.

6. You are making me out to be a villain. I am not trying to destroy people. I’m trying to make something that I can look at and be proud of. 

7. I do give quite a bit of time between each post. So the entire purpose of this ask is utterly lost on me.

So in conclusion, maybe there will be a gap, maybe there won’t. 

If people need time, then they need to stop themselves from reading it.

[stageofhearts]

Amber

This, ladies and gentleman, is truly the cruelest I've ever been to another person's character.

Under the cut.

Stage sat alone deep in the forest. His wounds were already scarred over, his bones mended. He could sense them. Amber was still here, with Fyre. It took him less than ten minutes to prepare his finale. He knew where it had to be.

Fyre stood over Amber, cloaked in Pure Form's flame. Her wings had extended around the greed goddess protectively. Amber was still clutching the rifle, the wood splintered and metal warped where she squeezed it. It had been hours since she moved.

Stage appeared in front of them. "Well well. If it isn't the head of the Family." He crossed his arms and opened a door behind himself. A small army of frost giants approaches from behind Fyre, weapons raised. "Come now Amber. Where is all your rage? Your godly might? Fight me! I'll even take us back to your city so that you have the advantage." He steps backward through the door and an alley appears around him. "Why, I'll even fight you in the alley where I killed the tall one."

That broke through the fog in Amber's mind. In less then a second she launched herself through the door, axe raised, screaming in rage. Stage easily dodged the attack and leapt back to the street, "Oh come now! Aren't you a goddess!? Surely you can do better than that! Or did you not care for them at all?"

The frost giants had leapt upon Fyre in the mean time, trying desperately to keep her down. She attacked ferociously, but they were many in number, and they all wielded weapons of ice that bit into the flames around her body. Still, they wouldn't hold her for long.

Amber screamed and swung at him again, but he still managed to dodge. He held a thrysus in his hand that grew to the size of a staff, which he jabbed into Amber's stomach, winding the goddess. Stage pressed the advantage, smashing the staff into her head and knocking her onto her back. He moved to swing again, but Amber lashed out with a kick, tripping him. Stage tried to keep his balance with the thrysus, but it slipped on a piece of rubble and he collapsed.

Amber leapt on top of him and raised the axe. "DIE!"

Stage smiled. "Look around you Amber."

The goddess turned to look at her city for the first time since they had arrived. Her eyes widened and the arm she held the axe in went slack. Stage lashed out, stabbing her in the stomach with a serrated blade and throwing her off of him. He stood and approached, the thrysus raised, it's pinecone top bristling with sharpened spines. "Do you see now? They are gone. All gone. Your Family is dead. And it's all your fault." Amber felt the pain in her stomach, but it didn't register. The entire city was in ruins. The Family was dead.

Stage stood over her, the base of his thrysus pressing against her throat. "Nine, ten. All alone again." He raised the staff and aimed it for her head.

Fyre hit him like a rocket, smashing through a building before she pulled back and let him crash into another wall, slamming his head into the brick. He cursed and stood. "Well if it isn't Amber's little song bird." He spun the thrysus and it became a trident that faintly glowed with power. "Shall we dance?"

Fyre launched herself at him, an inferno forming around her. He swung the trident in a wide arc and a torrent of water met the flames, surrounding them in steam. Stage sidestepped Fyre and thrusted the trident toward her. She spun to avoid it and launched a gout of flame at him, which he met with a smooth swing of the trident transitioning into another wave at Fyre.

The two danced around the battlefield, neither managing to land a hit. After a few minutes of this, Fyre charged toward Stage. He responded with another massive flood. Steam filled the battlefield again, but Stage could feel her approaching. He held the trident up and shot more water from it, but now the water was turning to steam before it even reached her. Still Stage held firm, increasing the outpour until it managed to slow Fyre.

He never saw Amber's axe coming. It lodged itself deep in his back, shattering most of the ribs on his left side and destroying his shoulderblade. He screamed and dropped the trident. Fyre flew forward and slammed into him. pinning him to the ground and gripping his throat with one hand. Stage's clothes were already of fire, but the hand on his throat was beginning to burn him alive. Desperately he reached for Fyre's face. "Elizabeth..."

Fyre's Pure Form faltered, then disappeared. The god killer held the god of performance in her arms, tears forming in her eyes. Stage managed a smile, the mask falling away from his face. The axe had been pressed in futher when he was pinned and had cut deep into his hear. "Take care of yourself." He coughed and blood splattered down his jacket and onto her shirt. "I love you." He used the last of his strength to open a door to her realm beneath them. They fell through, the door shut, and Stage smiled once more as he died.

Amber stared at the spot where the door had closed and then took a slow look around her city. It was empty. She was alone.

[stageofhearts]

Now then. Let's continue.

[stageofhearts]

Brutus

Under the cut.

Stage wasted no time. Nicole worked quickly, it was only a matter of time before she figured out how to get that bullet out of Amber's head. He still had one more to take care of before that happened. It took him a moment, but he focused and opened a door into the hut, staying on his side. Putting on his smuggest grin, he stood in plain view, making sure Brutus was looking at him. "Come and get me, guard dog."

For a brief moment, Brutus' face was completely blank. Then he shot forward with incredible speed, launching through the door with arms stretched for Stage's throat. The theater god stood stock still, then flickered and disappeared in a puff of static as Brutus fell through the false image and directly over the edge of a cliff. He bellowed in rage as he fell, smashing into a tree, reducing it to splinters in the process.

After taking a moment to get his bearings, he stood. He grabbed one of the larger splinters, a six foot shard of wood, and immediately ran into the underbrush. His movements were silent. Another image of Stage appeared in the wreckage of the tree. "Well now, seems the god of the hunt is the prey this time. This isn't just any forest you know." Brutus paused, turning to listen. "This is my special realm away from realm. I picked it up during the dark ages. It's got all of the things that were too big or complicated for me to make instantly." The image crosses his arms. "Why, I was here not too long ago, making some nice weapons for your boss. I'll give you a personal demonstration, if you can find me." With that, the image disappeared. Brutus growled under his breath and began to search.

Stage was in a clearing next to a huge plateau. It rose high into the sky, wide and flat topped. It was completely out of place in the forest. Stage stared into the forest, holding a simple musket in his hands. A gentle glow can be seen from inside it. The theater god waited, holding the rifle casually. He began to hum Der Freischütz, practicing aiming the rifle at the forest. He swept the rifle from one end of the woods to the other, so focused on staring straight ahead that he didn't notice the shard flying towards him till it stabbed through his back and out through his stomach.

Brutus charged out of the brush then, roaring with rage and murderous intent. Stage turned, bleeding but silent, and gestured. The plateau shattered and a massive foot swung out to kick Brutus. Cherno Alpha, operated by nothing more than Stage's will, aimed to crush the former god. Stage coughed up some blood and pulled the shard out through his stomach, barely holding in a scream of pain, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, he blinked, disbelieving.

The Jaeger was still. Brutus held back its foot with one hand, still facing and glaring at Stage. "This was your big surprise!? A FUCKING ROBOT!?" He roared and strained, tearing foot from the Jaeger and throwing it toward Stage. The god ducked as the mass of metal flew over his head. The Jaeger toppled, falling forward, almost on top of Brutus. The former god charged again, but Stage swung the rifle toward him and fired. A bright blue bullet flew from the rifle and slammed into Brutus' right knee, then circled back around and buried itself in his back, punching a hole in his left shoulderblade. He screamed in pain, but even with a wounded knee he barely slowed.

Stage fired again, this time the shot hit Brutus' right shoulder, and then circled back to hit him in the ribs, breaking one and cracking two more. The god pulled his own rifle from midair and fired within a second, the shot hitting Stage in the right shoulder and sending him spinning off his feet. Brutus fired again, hitting the god in the left knee, shattering it. Stage screamed in pain, then began to laugh. Brutus paused, then pulled his spear from the air. "Alright. Let's end this."

The hunting god stalked toward the wounded Stage, raising the spear. When he finally stood above the god's head, the spear aimed at his heart, he spoke. "So, any last words?"

Stage grinned. "Bang." He couldn't even lift the gun, but he managed to pull the trigger. The bullet flew up and smashed through Brutus' chin like and uppercut, tearing a hole through his face and snapping his head back. The bullet flew down again and smashed right through Brutus skull, ending up buried right at the top of his spinal chord. The former god of the hunt still stood, but the life had left him. Stage forced himself to his feet slowly, the fight having reopened the slashes Larry had given him. He opened another door and stumbled through, leaving behind the body and the next part of the rhyme, engraved on the stock of the musket he used, which laid at Brutus' feet.

Amber hadn't know exactly where to look for Brutus, so she went to the one person who would. Monita hadn't been particularly eager to give her the information, but eventually she did. Now Amber stood in front of his body, still standing tall, his spear held tight in his hand. She forced herself to stay in control long enough to reach down and pick up the musket. Carved into it were the simple, mocking words. "Seven, Eight, You're just too late."

Fyre found her in that spot nearly two hours later, the musket in her hands, tears falling down her cheeks. She hadn't moved, and she didn't react as Fyre approached. The goddess of greed was numb.

[stageofhearts]

Here's a nice song for the storyline

[lorspolairepeluche]

so i redid the ending of my addition to the stagefic b/c i'm an unobservant fuck who didn't realize that stage literally broke all of prinxe's rules in the space of

like

five minutes

The explosion had caused an uproar.

Animals in every realm were shrieking, panicking. Prinxe had dispatched their minions to calm their respective animals and run to find Bram. Whatever had happened, they had a gut feeling that Bram and Crom would be in the middle of it, and they'd be in trouble.

Prinxe's gut feelings were usually right.

"Door," the god said, swiping a hand through the air. "Lead me to Bram." Changing to bear form, they rammed the door open with their shoulder--no time for doorknobs--and ran straight through.

Sky. Prinxe registered the name of the realm's resident god as they loped through the Guardian God's realm, switching back to human form and then to wolf form. Is Bram in the temple? He'll know what's going on. They stopped to sniff the air. Stage was here… Bram. Find Bram.

There. The slightly singed smell that came with the Enkindler and the Enkindled had them on the move again, running toward the smell of smoke.

They stopped in the doorway of the temple. Bram crouched just inside, clutching his wrist and hissing in pain. Prinxe's claws clicked on the stones, and the Enkindler looked around. "Prinxe."

The Animals' Child returned to their normal form. "You always know it's me." It was a statement. They padded, barefoot, to crouch with the Enkindler and the Enkindled. Crom sniffed at them and recoiled slightly, growling, probably remembering past fights. "I'm alone," they assured him. "My weapons are trying to calm all the animals worked up by that explosion. Whoever caused it is automatically on my shit list." They glanced at Bram's broken wrist. "What happened?"

"Stage."

Prinxe's eyes narrowed. "Damn, it all fits. God of Performance…" They shook their head, mohawk flopping. "Of course that bastard would do something flashy like that. Idiot." They stood up. "I'll stay with you. I'll be of no help, but it'll keep me calm if you two are around. I don't want to get angry. If I go into Kill Mode because of this…" They shivered. "I'll stay here," they repeated. "Let's get you to Seiko."

--

A bear had its head in Prinxe's lap when Bram returned. "Helps me calm down," they explained without looking up, rubbing between the animal's ears absently as its eyes closed to relaxed slits.

"I can see why," Bram replied.

"How's your wrist?"

"Better." He rolled it. "So are you still angry?"

Prinxe paused. "I know what happened. Lairde finished with their duties and told me everything." They stood up, and the bear changed back into the Lairde of the Forests. "Come on, Lairde," Prinxe said quietly. "Let's go home."

"Yes," Lairde said quietly, tugging their scarf up around their face. "Mir will be last to return, I expect."

"Having domain over the animals on seventy percent of the earth's surface does have its drawbacks," Prinxe said softly, thought their heart didn't seem to be in it. They looked over their shoulder. "See you, Bram."