Punk Metal Mothering (Momlestia)
Celestia was a woman who thrived on simple pleasures and innocent joy. She’d sooner picnic with her boyfriend than have him buy her jewels, and a fine evening with Luna was nothing more than chatting and watching her play video games. With Sunset, she liked to drink coffee on their porch at dawn, then go for a light jog.
“Will you be having dinner with us?”
“Nah,” Sunset said, ending their jog by her bike instead of the door. “I’m going to a Red Murder Doomsday concert tonight, and I’ve got a bunch of errands to do first. Don’t wait up.”
Luna roused far later that morning. She stumbled down the stairs to find… ‘something’ blaring from the dining room. It sounded like a man screaming Morse code into a microphone, albeit toned to a reasonable volume. She entered the kitchen to find Celestia pensively watching a Whotube video on her laptop.
Luna fetched a cereal box and began eating handfuls from it. “Finally moved on from Simon and Garfunkel?”
“This is horrible,” Celestia said with low fear. She clicked on another video, unleashing a new set of musical screams. “Luna, Sunset is going to a punk metal concert tonight, and this is the band! Red Murder Doomsday. Here, look at them.”
She brought up a picture: black leather, spikes, mohawks, and skulls.
Luna shrugged. “You do know Torch wears a jacket like that, right?”
“Torch doesn’t sing about slaughtering lambs for the glory of Satan.” Celestia’s voice grew shriller with each word. “Satan, Luna! They worship Satan!”
“Only because they’ve never met him,” Luna said.
“That’s not the point!” Celestia’s wide eyes remained on the picture. “My baby girl is going to a punk metal concert! The place will be filled with… with drugs! And Satanists, and sex, maybe even Nazis! She likes loud music, I understand that, but she has no idea what she’s getting into!”
Luna watched her sister work herself ever further into a tizzy. In her mind, two paths branched off from the main. She could explain that punk concerts were perfectly safe for thousands or millions of attendees every year, and besides, Sunset had faced down literal demons and obviously would be fine.
Instead, she hid her mouth behind a fistful of cereal. “You’re right, Tia. We need to go there and make sure nothing happens.”
Luna paused, seeming to think on it before adding, “You know she’ll hate it if she knew we were following her. We should get some disguises.”
Celestia was shockingly agreeable for all that came next. A trip to Cold Topic and the hair salon completed their outfits. Redheart and Cheerilee actually managed to find tickets, given along with the secret terms that Luna wear a camera because they wouldn’t miss this for the world. It was a lot to handle in one day, and in what felt like no time at all they paid for overpriced parking and got out to stand with the waiting throng.
Luna felt damn proud of her outfit despite the haste in which it was made. Black leather and cloth were combined to make a helmet and dress that seemed both regal and militant, and her hair was dyed to a deeper, monochrome blue. She even splurged and got slit-eye contact lenses, but to be honest it was Celestia’s transformation that both blew her away and made her want to collapse in laughter. Celestia’s hair had been straightened and colored in alternating purple and black, half-hiding a face covered in white makeup with purple tears. She wore a spiked collar and a deep purple leather jacket with black highlights, and Luna made absolutely certain the hidden camera in her top button caught Celestia from every angle.
“This is so embarrassing,” Celestia mumbled – still Celestia beneath it all.
“Remember, we’re punk girls,” Luna hissed. “Act the part.”
The auditorium doors opened, and they got in line next to a girl with perhaps twelve visible piercings and a man with a skull tattooed on his face.
The girl smiled at Celestia. “Nice outfit.”
She was not much older than Sunset. Celestia beamed with instinctive kindness. “Thank you. My sister…”
She coughed. “I MEAN SATAN helped me make it.”
The girl rolled her eyes and looked away.
“Great job,” Luna said. “You’re blending right in.”
“Just keep your eyes out for my baby,” Celestia fretted. She looked around, yet even with her tall height could not find Sunset in the crowd. “Do you know where she likes to stand during concerts?”
“Historically? On stage.”
“Not helping. We can text each other, let’s split up when we get inside.”
Luna snorted. “Yeah, we can do more damage that way.”
Celestia looked upset at the choice of words, but soon resumed swiveling her head for any sign of Sunset. Luna pulled out her handheld game and played merrily until their time came to enter the theater.
The layout of the place eased Celestia’s fears, if only barely. There were food vendors, tables, and bars, all positioned around a mosh pit with elevations that ideally let everyone see the stage. No animal sacrifice, drug dens, or pentagrams could be seen… yet. Side passages and dark corners were present in abundance, and the warm-up band’s screamed singing pounded at her brain.
She saw Luna put in her gunner ear plugs, and followed suit. At least then she could hear herself think. With a mix of pantomime and shouted instructions, Celestia directed Luna to circle the mosh pit while she checked out the back areas.
Luna had not been gone long when Celestia started to regret her absence. A lover of calm and quiet, this bizarre place of darkness, noise, and menacing strangers triggered fear in her that real monsters never held. Faces in the crowd were ghoulish and threatening, and wore violent spikes and diabolist symbols. Crazed laughter chased her as people drank recklessly and smoked from odd pipes at tables, while others mashed tongues heedless of who might see.
Worst of all, Sunset was nowhere to be found.
Celestia needed a break. Fortunately, the first band’s performance was over, replacing speaker-enhanced screams with the dull noise of the crowd. She stumbled towards the back of the room, away from the mosh pit’s roar. Nauseous, sweating, and trying to avert her eyes from everything, she walked head-first into a studded leather chest.
The man from up front, with the skull face inked across his own. Celestia’s legs went numb, but he caught her before she fell.
“Whoa, dude! You alright?”
…Not at all what she expected to hear. Especially spoken with a nerdy lisp.
Celestia collected her thoughts and willed her legs back in order. “I… I am now, yes. I apologize, I was a little…”
The man let her stand on her own, though kept his hands to each side as she wobbled. “First concert?”
“Yes,” Celestia said.
“Gotcha. Try to pace yourself, alright?” He passed her a water bottle. “Get to the back tables and take a breather. There’s nothing Metal about needing an ambulance.”
Celestia dumbly accepted the gift and nodded. Her balance returned, and the man brushed past her towards the mosh pit.
Deciding to take good advice for what it was, Celestia moved to the backmost tables. A careful check showed the water bottle to be new and sealed, and she cracked it open and took a drink.
It was quieter here, with the crowd pushed towards the stage. A seat and more sips let Celestia reclaim her nerves and morale.
…Perhaps Sunset wasn’t in as much danger as she thought. But it’d still be important to make sure. Celestia’s eyes drifted around as she tried to paint a mental map of the place. They moved across tables in the vain hope of recognition, although few other attendees sought comparative peace and quiet.
One in particular caught her gaze – a man in a Hawaiian shirt of all things, with cargo shorts, red skin, and thick plastic glasses.
A familiar man. Celestia tensed, at once feeling thoroughly better with a clear foe in sight. A punk concert was alien, frightening. This was old ground.
She stood and approached. The man tapped away on a laptop opened to some spreadsheet, unaware until Celestia grabbed his ear. She gave it a savage twist, earning a girlish cry.
“Hello, Satan. You better have a good reason for being here.”
Celestia sat down hard, one hand firmly on her concealed pistol. Satan gingerly patted his ear, giving an exaggerated ‘Ooooo’ of pain.
“What was that for?” he moaned. “I thought we were friends!”
Celestia was unmoved. “The last time I saw you we had to catch your dog before it ate my school. You promised to pay someone to pick it up and they never showed, so guess who had to find twenty kilograms of silver in the middle of the night to banish it?”
“Nodevil would go unless I paid them overtime!” Satan said, still nursing the ear. “And you ended up doing it for free, so…”
Celestia gave a groaning sigh. “Why are you here?”
“Change of scenery,” Satan said, typing a little more on his laptop. “There’s just enough diabolic energy here to let me manifest. I’m using the peace and quiet to get some actual work done.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Celestia mused.
Satan chuckled a little, still typing. “I keep telling you the truth, and you keep doubting me.”
“You are literally Satan.”
“And despite that, the facts don’t change.” Satan gave a frustrated smile. “Technically, I am lord of Hell and ruler of all devils, demons, and damned souls, but realistically I’m more the manager nobody respects or listens to. Hell is noisy as, uh, Hell and filled with distractions, so I was hoping for just a solid two hours without interruption until you wandered along. Nice getup, by the by. And you’re not even the worst thing that’s happened today.”
Celestia opened her mouth for a retort. She closed it slowly, digesting the last sentence, and rested her head in her hand.
“I didn’t lose my dog this time,” Satan preemptively protested.
“Then what?” Celestia hissed. “What hell-spawn am I going to have to deal with, because it’s always me who cleans up your horrifying messes. I don’t have any silver on me, you know.”
“You have silver bullets,” Satan noted.
“You can have one. Where do you want it?”
“Relax, dollface,” Satan said with a dismissive wave. “It’s not my people this time, it’s yours.”
“All humans are not ‘my people,’” Celestia groaned.
“Said the lady who blames me every time she has to fight a devil.”
“You’re the lord of Hell,” Celestia cut in. “I’d tell you to act like it but I’m pretty sure that would make things worse. What’s the problem?”
Satan gestured with his head. “Over there. Right side, between us and the mosh pit. Bunch of losers.”
Celestia looked in that direction, coming to focus on a knot of about a dozen concert-goers for lack of anything else that stood out. Honestly, the only thing strange was how they stood in tight union while the crowd milled around them.
“Behind the group?” she tried.
“Look closer.”
Celestia complied. No fangs or pale faces, nor were their pupils dark, their steps heavy, or any of the other signs the supernatural was at work. Perhaps an unusual percentage of them were bald or had close-shaven hair.
She began picking out the details of their outfits. The common studs, skulls and leather were present, but Celestia noticed a degree of uniformity in the highlights they wore. Twin lightning bolts, iron crosses… and now and then an actual Swastika on the biggest and baldest of them.
She didn’t understand at all. “Nazis like punk music?”
“Nazis like anything that lets them gather openly without kicking their ass.” Satan made a nauseous noise. “Fucking Nazis.”
Now that the dots were connecting, Celestia could see the other concertgoers gave them a wide berth.
“Aren’t they yours?” She mused. “Damned souls, and so on?”
Satan laughed, then growled. “God I wish it worked like tha… nope, scratch that, I don’t. Hell is bursting with morons, I can’t handle any more.”
Celestia tapped her foot, pensively sizing up the gang. “I thought you’d like Nazis. Being Satan and all.”
“I’m ‘a’ source of evil, not ‘the’ source. Put two trees in the same small pot, they’ll hate each other. Punk concerts used to be an actual, reliable source of diabolic power where devils could come party, and yes okay sometimes slip into the world at large, sue me. But that lead to this B.S. mindset of like, ‘nothing is evil except restrictions!’ or whatever so nobody batted an eye when the Nazis showed up. One or two at a time, real cool and inoffensive, and the next thing you know the punk scene was lousy with them.”
Satan shrugged, his lips tight. “Eventually the metal-heads beat the shit out of the Nazis and chased them off, but the magic never really came back. Not all their fault, really. Bands don’t sacrifice lambs anymore, the label companies make sure everything’s watered-down and marketable… capitalism killed us, man.”
“Obviously the Nazis aren’t gone,” Celestia said, brushing past Satan’s whining. She watched as the tight-knit gang began to prowl, snatching at girls and shoving down boys in their way.
“Hm? Oh, that was last generation.” Satan shrugged again. “All the kids these days are a bunch of posers. ‘Look at me, I worship Satan because I’m mad at my dad!’ Here, watch.”
His arm snaked out, catching the skull-faced man as he walked past. “Hey, kid! Those guys are Nazis. Me and sugar-tits are putting together a gang to kick them out. You want in?”
“Sorry, no. My mom would kill me if I got in a fight here.”
Satan let him go, and the guy vanished into the crowd. “See? Posers. I bet he’d throw some animal rights tantrum if anyone actually did sacrifice a lamb.”
“If you hate the Nazis so much, why don’t you do something?” Celestia asked.
Satan gestured to his laptop. “If I don’t get this done tonight I’ll have to work overtime, and screw that.”
Celestia scratched at her cheek, then frowned as purple makeup went under her fingernail. “Speaking of posers…”
“Well, what about you?” Satan sneered. “Little miss hero?”
“I’m not here for fun,” Celestia mumbled. “Actually, I don’t like this place at all. I’m just looking for…”
Red and yellow caught her eyes. She turned, beamed. There was Sunset. Given the circus around them, it was a little off-putting that her dress was casual as ever. Nothing really ‘Metal’ but the studded leather jacket Luna gave her for Christmas a few years back. Celestia noted Ember and some other girls chatting with Sunset, all of them laughing at some unheard joke.
They were right in the path of the Nazi gang, oblivious. The skinheads seemed to leer right at her. Sunset stood out from the other girls – younger, fresh-faced, with eyes that never aged out of their innocence.
Celestia rose, and with that motion swung the chair out from beneath her, then up and over her shoulder right for the gang. She caught two in the face, jostling the rest as they staggered into each other.
The commotion drew Ember’s attention. She grabbed Sunset’s hand and beat a hasty retreat.
The Nazis turned to Celestia’s table. A few had glass bottles in hand, and one pulled out a knife. The tallest, baldest, and most Swastika’d among them uncoiled an iron chain from his arm.
Celestia pointed at Satan. “He did it.”
Satan blinked. Then he screamed, scrambling to his feet. “Oh, come on!”
“I forgot to mention that needing twenty kilos of silver in the middle of the night is why I’m not in Hawaii right now.”
“They’re all bigger than us,” he mewled.
“Don’t be such a pussy, Satan!” Celestia shouted as she got to work, jumping on the table and spinning her legs, timing it perfectly to floor the first assailant with a whip-crack kick. She leapt high, caught a hanging light, and swung it into a second kick that landed her behind the mob. She tripped two more with a leg-sweep and darted back. Celestia danced for distance as the rest chased her, save three who started beating up Satan.
Celestia knew how to fight, even without guns or blade. She knew to keep balance, to seize the initiative, to use her long legs to build momentum into powerful snapping kicks. All while moving slower than her assailants – slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
Ten at once was still too much. She lured them away from Sunset’s group, but that carried them into the mosh pit. She stumbled and tripped while the Nazis shoved their way through, sparking more fights. One swung his knife – the idiot, you don’t swing with a knife. Celestia caught the blade on her leather-clad arm and broke his nose with a punch. She kicked another assailant down, dodged, then crumpled as one slugged her in the gut.
She blinked, willing her stunned body to move, then blinked again as the skinhead jerked suddenly and fell. Luna materialized from his side with a smoking Taser. It crackled loudly in her hands, cowing the Nazis long enough for Celestia to stand.
“Sunset and Ember saved Satan, by the way,” Luna noted. “He promptly ran like a little bitch, but it was the right thing to do…”
She shrugged. “I guess. Got three of them off you, anyway.”
Now as a pair, they kept fighting and giving ground, picking off assailants when they could. Unlike her sister, Luna had no martial arts training, nor did she have the healthy lifestyle or long legs that gave Celestia her edge. But Luna did have a stun gun, brass knuckles, and habit of punching low, and those counted in a fight like this.
The needs of the retreat soon forced the sisters apart, but attrition and confusion meant only two followed Celestia when she reached the stage. She flipped atop it and snap-kicked one in the face when he tried to climb up. He fell, and she repeated it with the next.
He… didn’t fall. The giant with the metal chain only spat blood and lashed at her, bruising her arm beneath the jacket and forcing her back. Celestia backpedaled as he climbed after her, bumping into four people coming from behind.
“Hey, you can’t be here!” the lead singer of Red Murder Doomsday yelled.
Celestia’s eyes stayed on the Nazi. She needed a weapon…
She snatched one of their electric guitars. “I need to use this to hit a Nazi.”
The owner shrugged. “Go for it, bro.”
Celestia turned and charged, hoping to close the distance before the chain-armed brute finished climbing. She skidded to a halt, already too late. Lights glared from above in anticipation of the band’s entrance as the Nazi stood before her, on-stage and grinning with the attention of thousands upon them.
Celestia paused, clutching the guitar’s neck. He was taller than her and bulked with muscle, and had a real weapon.
But it was a weapon that needed space. Instinct bid her make a distraction and so she screamed, and the nearby microphones echoed it across the audience. They cheered in response, and Celestia sped towards her foe. He drew the chain back to swing – Celestia leapt the last few feet, guitar high, still screaming as she brought it down on his head.
The guitar snapped upon the impact. The Nazi’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed.
Still screaming, unable to quite hold herself back, Celestia raised the damaged instrument and hit him again, causing the guitar to break fully in half.
She managed to catch herself before swinging the broken neck. She looked to the cheering audience, squinting as the stage-lights focused upon her.
A hot blush rose in Celestia’s cheeks, hidden by the makeup, and she fled backstage.
“Who was that?” Sunset asked, staring to where the woman disappeared.
Ember shrugged. “I don’t know, but she was Metal as fuck.”
Nobody suggested this, but if you don’t like seeing Celestia as a dorky-yet-badass mom you would’ve dropped this series a long time ago.
Oh, and so long as I have your ear, check out the TV Tropes page! With many thanks to those who’ve contributed to it.
Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!
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F*** Nazis. Lite b******* try to seep into everything.
This chapter was metal as buck
Only thing I don’t like about this story is I felt like Pinkie was wasted potential. I genuinely feel when it was revealed that Pinkie’s family were essentially monster hunters, I thought there was going to be something with Pinke, sadly there was not.
Otherwise this is an exceedingly entertaining and good story, I’m excited to see where the story goes and the development of the characters.
For those playing at home, Satan is pretty good at math; I looked it up and Nazi Punks Fuck Off is from 1981. Also, a real song written in response to exactly the issue Satan was talking about in that part of the chapter.
Two things: first, I imagined Satan as being played by Mark Pellegrino, which made his portrayal as a complete wuss so much funnier. Second, this?
My favorite exchange out of everything I've read on this site. Thank you, so much.
That's probably the most relatable thing ever written in this story.
Even Satan has standards.
10396924
The Dead Kennedys were right then, and they're right now. Nazis and punks are natural enemies.
Hard Rock has Celestia on the cover in the next issue.
There's nothing better than reading about a dorky mother trying to protect her child from nothing, something, and everything at the same time.
Nothing is more Metal then beating up Nazis
Hell Yeah
A Ghostbusters reference!
Aw darn, was hoping for a sunset/nazi scene that went something like this
https://youtu.be/WBt1vqff7dE
Followed closely with nazi ass kicking
But this’ll work too
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! Have a scene where Sunset going on and on the mysterious Punker who came to ehr rescue sure Celestia be burying her face in the couch screaming in embarrassment afterwards.
Agree with Ember, she was metal as fuck.
We should all work to redefine "snowflake generation" to mean all these bigots who can't stop themselves from spewing bile at others because their precious egos are hurt by the existence of contrary opinions or facts.
The correct response to being to being told you need something to hit a literal Nazi,
Punklestia Townshending a giant Nazi is precisely what I needed to make the day complete. Thank you for it.
Also, Satan may or may not owe Sunset a debt, not that he'll ever tell her. One could do something with that. (Or, for all I know, this was the act that kept her soul out of Hell after that regrettable Fall Formal.)
10397506
most snowflakes already fit that definition.
10398487
My experience with the term is that it's commonly used to shut down and disregard political activism, often from young people on 'the left.'
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snowflake_(slang)#Generation_Snowflake
In that way it's basically just a box those using the term can mentally put you in so they can file you under "I don't need to think about what this person is saying and the implications it could have on me and my behavior." This is dangerous when it is used to discredit things like BLM and other legitimate social justice causes. It's also used to justify hateful or offensive speech by declaring those reacting to it negatively as 'snowflakes' who are trying to destroy free speech.
10398557
My experience with the term "snowflake" has been with people on the left who lable anyone who criticizes them as bigots, regardless of what the criticism is.
Guess both definitions exist, and there are plenty of snowflakes on both sides.
10397978
Hey, if Satan owed me a favor, I’d milk that shit for all it’s worth.
I laughed so hard at this line, I almost spit out my coffee.
I imagine the Neo Nazis have something worse than hell waiting for them
Why stop at just kicking, though? 🤔
Okay so I've just seen a post on reddit and I had to come back and share it because it's exactly like the fight scene here
Nazis storm concert stage and get beat up
The camera is pretty far away so it's not gory or up close but it is a clip of people fighting so watch at your own risk
11506140
Metal as fuck.
10398641
you are the minority its mostly bigots that use the term snowflake
You know I was going to comment that this wording leaves open the implication that they HAVE met the dude.... but then he shows up. Gotta kind of side with the red guy on this one, he's less the source of human sin, as just the guy who handles the paperwork about it. Plus even he hates fucking Nazis. Granted, still kind of a dick but.. eh who isn't?
On that topic... Punk Rock Celestia kicking the shit out of Nazis? Hell yeah. Also "I need to hit a Nazi in the face with this" is a perfectly valid reason for taking anything.
Also really love Tia freaking out over how dangerous these things could be... and everyone other then the Nazis are just chill and helpful.