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gusu-emilu · 3 years

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sometimes I forget (2/3)

chapter two: grieve what I happen to grieve

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng travel to Dafan Mountain to find the cure to Lan Wangji’s fever. Their animosity results in a very strained partnership, which only becomes more complicated when Jiang Cheng develops the fever too. But along the way, they address the scars that haunt them and find something new in each other.

< Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 > | Art

Post-Canon, Rated T - read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Take care of yourself,” Wen Ning said. “That’s what you should do.”

They fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other.

Reluctantly, Jiang Cheng reached out to receive Sandu. “Fine. I won’t fly.” He turned abruptly and strode down the forest path.

Walking the rest of the way did not cost too much time. The village on Dafan Mountain was closer than they realized.

At first, Jiang Cheng’s only noticeable symptoms of the Four-Sunsets Flu were a slight temperature and haggard breathing. But by the time they reached the foot of the mountain, Jiang Cheng’s skin was slick with sweat, his hands shook, his knees gave out.

They still had a tall summit to climb. Jiang Cheng was not strong enough for it.

Knowing Jiang Cheng would be too stubborn to agree to wait behind, Wen Ning said, “Let me carry you.”

Jiang Cheng pressed his sword into the dirt like a cane, his limbs wobbling. Beads of sweat appeared at his temples. “I’d sooner die than let you carry me twice in one night.”

This did not offend Wen Ning. Nothing much out of people’s mouths did anymore. Yet, he realized, his usual desensitization was not why this time, he didn’t mind the harsh words.

It was because behind all the spite, there was humor in Jiang Cheng’s voice. Dark and bitter, but still humor.

Wen Ning did not know what to do with that.

“It’s morning now,” he found himself saying. “So it doesn’t count.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed and started up the mountain trail. He struggled after just a few steps, his legs uncooperative, his brow knitted.

Wen Ning watched from below, waiting for him to give up.

He was soon forced to a stop. Jiang Cheng clutched the mountain terrace on the side of the trail and hunched over, his breath unsteady. He shot a glare down at Wen Ning that looked like he wanted to hurl rocks at him.

“Will you agree?” Wen Ning said as he easily scaled the slope.

“Just get it over with.”

Instead of carrying Jiang Cheng bridal style like before, this time Wen Ning carried him on his back. A piggyback ride did not have the chance of eye contact. Less awkward.

But this was an even more vivid reminder of the night he rescued Jiang Cheng from Lotus Pier. This was exactly how Wen Ning had carried him.

The pressure of Jiang Cheng’s weight was different—partly because Jiang Cheng was much older now, partly because everything felt different as a fierce corpse—but the sensation was still too similar to be comfortable.

They reached the summit.

Hazy orange-blue light of the morning’s earliest hours crept through the sky and cloaked the village. The Dafan Wen residence was a phantom of its former self, abandoned and decaying. Raiders had scrounged through it multiple times over the years.

Despite the village’s decline, Wen Ning knew these paths of caked yellow earth all too well. It was still the same home he had spent his childhood in.

How fitting, that at the beginning of Wei Wuxian’s second life, he and Wen Ning had reunited at this village. The place where everything had started for Wen Ning. The place where part of his soul was snatched by the Goddess Statue, leaving him spiritually distorted and unable to fully cultivate, and enabling Wen Ruohan to use him as collateral against his sister.

The place where years later he destroyed that same Goddess Statue at Wei Wuxian’s command. Felt the rust of catharsis at defeating his childhood monster.

The place where Wen Chao had turned Wen Ning’s entire family into puppets just to ambush Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Where the remnants of his clan were taken captive by the Jins, marched to Qiongqi Path for forced labor.

And now the village was dead.

Wen Ning had thought that constructing a memorial here with A-Yuan would finally grant him peace about his family.

It was foolish to have thought that. Nothing ever ends so easily.

“Are you going to put me down?” Jiang Cheng said.

Jiang Cheng had been purposely sagging his weight for the last half minute, Wen Ning realized.

“Sorry.” Wen Ning released him.

Jiang Cheng held his forehead in his hand and swayed back and forth.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng snapped, despite how he leaned onto the wall of a house and then sank to the ground. His face flushed pink.

“W-W-Wait here.” Wen Ning hurried down the dusty road of the village.

“Where are you going? Wen Qionglin!”

As Wen Ning turned the corner, he stumbled a bit at the sound of his courtesy name.

Jiang Cheng had not called him ‘Ghost General.’

It felt strange. But not unpleasant.

Wen Ning rummaged through the village for any trace of herb satchels or bottles of tonic that might have been left behind. The Dafan Wen Clan’s medicine worked better and faster than any other. He could find something to get Jiang Cheng back on his feet before they hunted for the final cure to the Four-Sunsets Flu.

But it was a slim chance that anything would be left. Thieves had stripped the buildings bare. They had even stolen the tattered red curtains that used to hang over the doorways.

Wen Ning regretted not going through the village when he visited with A-Yuan, to recover what few items remained. Instead, he had avoided the village and only gone to his clan’s burial grounds.

Somehow, it had been easier to visit the graves. Those were supposed to be lifeless. His home was not.

He sped up his search. He did not want to spend any more time in these empty houses.

In one of the elders’ huts, he found a secret stash of medicine in the wall. He hugged it all into his arms, hoping that he wouldn’t break anything, and ran back outside to where Jiang Cheng lay limp against a wall. He was farther down the street than where Wen Ning had left him. He must have tried to follow Wen Ning and not gotten far before falling back down.

Wen Ning squatted down and dumped the medical supplies in front of Jiang Cheng. A jumble of bottles, vials, and jars rolled in the dry yellow dirt.

“What is all that?” Even when collapsed from fever and exhaustion, Jiang Cheng still managed to channel enough sass into his voice for a man and a half. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells awful.”

Wen Ning had no sense of smell as a fierce corpse, so this was new information. Although it didn’t especially matter to him if Jiang Cheng disliked the scent.

Rearranging the bottles, Wen Ning said, “I might be able to give you some temporary treatment.”

“What’s the point when the cure is here? Don’t waste our time.” Jiang Cheng eyed the bottles suspiciously as Wen Ning lifted them one by one to decipher the faded labels. “How do you know those aren’t rotten? You’re going to poison me.”

“They keep for a long time.” When Jiang Cheng scowled more, Wen Ning said, “It might take a while to find the cure. So I’d like Jiang Wanyin to have some strength back before we start searching.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Wen Ning looked up from the bottles. “You shouldn’t come on this journey and then make me do all the work.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Whatever it takes for me to not be your patient any longer.”

He was surprisingly cooperative as Wen Ning held out wrinkled old herbs and a vial of bitter fluid. He took the medicine without a complaint, other than a few coughs and a disgusted grimace.

Several minutes later, some of the redness left his cheeks, and he was able to stand. “You better not have poisoned me,” he muttered as he brushed dust off his robes. “Where do we find the cure?”

“The remedy hasn’t been needed for centuries. All I remember from my family’s story is something about an ice-blue flower that blooms on this mountain at night. But I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s it?” Jiang Cheng yelled. Having regained his strength, his voice had also regained its volume. “We came all the way here and that’s all you have to go on?”

You could’ve asked before deciding if it was worth it to come, Wen Ning thought. But what he said was, “We have to check if any ancient texts were left behind. They might have the answers.”

“Shouldn’t you already know if there are records left? Didn’t you come here with that Lan boy?” he said, as if he didn’t know Lan Sizhui’s name. “What kind of descendant doesn’t guard the relics of his clan?”

Wen Ning winced at this. Jiang Cheng had an unmatched skill of firing shots of criticism posed as questions. But masked or not, his words cut just as sharp.

Back then, Jiang Cheng had lost everything. He had rebuilt Yunmeng from the ground up. Fought for the Jiang Clan, clawing its way back to power, leaving his people in want of nothing but an heir.

What had Wen Ning done for his clan but let it die?

Was the pain of their loss not equal? After Jiang Cheng’s parents were murdered and his city was burnt to cinders, he still had the strength to create something from the ashes. Was Wen Ning too weak to even lay eyes on the ashes that remained of his own clan?

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. The sound brought Wen Ning back to the present.

No, he decided. Their situations had not been equal.

Wen Ning did not have the foothold that Jiang Cheng had. For years he was chained up by the Jins, tormented and experimented on. Stripped of his consciousness by nails shoved in his head. Even if he had the freedom to try to rebuild, there had been no foundation left. His clan had been wiped out.

Why would he want to create something from ashes as dead as he was, when there was life elsewhere?

“A-Yuan,” he found himself saying.

He did not look at Jiang Cheng, but he felt the man’s gaze boring into him.

“A-Yuan is my clan now. And A-Yuan has been granted a new life with the Lans.”

He did not dare voice it, but to himself, he said, Wei Wuxian is one of mine as well.

When he turned to Jiang Cheng, the man was staring at the ground, his eyes frail and downcast. “I…”

His fingers shifted in his clenched fists, as if he were channeling whatever he had to say into his hands—perhaps into Zidian—instead of the air. Then he set his jaw and marched down the narrow street, leaving Wen Ning behind.

* * *

They scavenged through the village until noon, searching for ancient Wen texts. They stopped every hour for Wen Ning to prepare another dose of medicine for Jiang Cheng. The treatment kept him upright, but each dose was less effective as his condition worsened.

They did not have much time. Two sunsets, and the fever would reach its peak.

They overturned the few pieces of furniture left in the buildings and gouged every crack in the walls. All they found were a few keepsakes—a necklace, a burlap sack, a compass—that Wen Ning set aside so he would not have to imagine the faces of the people they had once belonged to.

Nothing remained of the Dafan Wen Clan’s medical literature.

Now Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng stood in the dusty street, baking under the hot sun, feeling as hopeless and bleak as the ghost town. Jiang Cheng’s face was bright red. His hands were trembling slightly. The midday heat was not helping his fever.

Panting, he retreated into the shade of one of the houses. “I thought Wei Wuxian said we would find the cure here.” It was meant to sound accusatory, but most of the bite had been sapped out of his voice.

“We will,” said Wen Ning. “The ice flower grows somewhere hidden on this mountain. I just don’t know where it is or how to use it.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He shook his head disapprovingly for a few moments. Then, “What about the cave?”

“The Goddess Statue’s shrine?”

He nodded.

“I think it will be empty. But we can try.” Wen Ning started on the path to the cave. He looked back when Jiang Cheng didn’t follow.

Jiang Cheng still leaned against the wall, avoiding eye contact.

“…Do you need me to carry you?”

Jiang Cheng did not answer, so Wen Ning took it as a yes. He heaved Jiang Cheng onto his back and headed for the cave.

It was strange to see the shrine with no Goddess Statue. As much as Wen Ning hated the goddess that stole part of his soul and killed his father, he wished that she still loomed over the cave floor, frozen in her haunted dance. At least that would be something on Dafan Mountain that wasn’t gone.

Wen Ning let Jiang Cheng rest against one of the rock formations beside the shrine as he searched the cave. There were a few offerings remaining from when the villagers at the foot of Dafan Mountain used to worship the goddess, but those had long since rotted away.

Having found nothing useful, Wen Ning wandered aimlessly around the cave, more to have something to do than to continue searching. He trailed a hand along the wall and wished that the stone beneath his hand felt real like it used to. It used to send a chill along his arm, giving him goosebumps. Now his body was just as cold as the stone, and he felt nothing.

If I don’t find the cure, will Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin die?

He tried not to think about it, but fear was eating away at him. He could not be responsible for more deaths. Especially not two people that Wei Wuxian loved.

But what hope was there?

A-Jie…I need your help…

If only Wen Qing had survived instead. She had always been smarter than Wen Ning, more perceptive than him. She would have known how to find the cure.

After a few more pointless circles around the cave, Wen Ning returned to Jiang Cheng.

“I don’t know what to do,” Wen Ning said.

Jiang Cheng looked up, his eyelids heavy. “You will.”

Wen Ning sat down front of Jiang Cheng, feeling hopeless.

And angry.

Resentful energy swirled inside him. He knew that it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t find the cure, and neither was it Jiang Cheng’s, but for some reason he wanted to hit both of them.

“I wish I knew what to do.”

“Do you want to get us killed?” Jiang Cheng yelled.

Wen Ning flinched backward. “W-W-What’s wrong?”

“You can’t make wishes here! That goddess has stolen the souls of people who made wishes in her presence!”

Wen Ning looked at the empty space behind the goddess’s former shrine. “But her statue is destroyed. She isn’t here anymore.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust that. Her spirit could still be around.”

Her spirit…

Something clicked in Wen Ning’s mind. “What if she can still be summoned?”

“Even worse, then. That goddess is a nuisance.”

“We should summon her.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Wen Ning like he was crazy. “For what?”

But before Wen Ning could answer, Jiang Cheng had already turned his attention to the shrine. His brow softened. “You’re right…if her spirit is still here, she might be able to help us find the cure.”

Wen Ning scooted closer to Jiang Cheng. “Can you summon her?”

“Can I summon her? Your clan lived here. You should do it.”

“I…” Wen Ning stared at the ground. “I can’t. I’m not alive.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng frowned. There was regret in his voice. He dug his fingers into the stone wall as he tried to push himself up to stand. “Sometimes I forget.”

Wen Ning meant to go forward and help him, but instead he sat frozen in place, repeating Jiang Cheng’s words in his mind.

Sometimes I forget.

As hard as Wen Ning searched for sarcasm or disdain or malice, there was none. He had said it simply, sincerely.

With his cold, stiff body, and his empty eyes, and his skin streaked with black veins, who could forget that the Ghost General was not alive?

“A little help?” Jiang Cheng said.

“S-S-Sorry!” Wen Ning hurried to support Jiang Cheng as they approached the altar, his mind still spinning.

Jiang Cheng sank to his knees and pulled a stick of incense from a qiankun pouch in his robes. “Leave me be.” Once Wen Ning backed away, Jiang Cheng lit the flame as an offering and closed his eyes.

Wen Ning imagined the rich, musky fragrance of the incense that he could no longer smell.

Another reminder that he was, indeed, not alive.

And yet…

Sometimes I forget.

He stepped closer to Jiang Cheng.

The incense smoke snaked through the air in front of Jiang Cheng. His face, usually dour and strong-lined, was calm and soft as he fell into the trance to summon the goddess.

Everyone knew that Wen Ning was not alive.

The juniors, as much as they enjoyed his company, were careful to avoid his cold hands and the resentful energy that bound his body together. Once they had grown comfortable enough with him, they even started making playful jokes about his un-dead condition. The banter helped Wen Ning feel better about life as a fierce corpse. But it also continued to remind him that he was different now, and he could not change it.

Lan Wangji did not seem to mind his presence, but Wen Ning always felt like he was intruding on the Cloud Recesses, even though it was his new home.

Perhaps a few of his family members had accepted him as the same A-Ning they one knew, but they were all gone now.

And Wei Wuxian…

Although Wei Wuxian had done all he could to make Wen Ning feel human again, and asserted his humanity to anyone who questioned it, he had also transformed Wen Ning into his weapon. Into the Ghost General.

Wen Ning would have killed for Wei Wuxian. It had been his choice. And with one note of Chenqing, Wen Ning would kill again, if his friend needed him to.

But would that still be his choice?

Who could be controlled this way other than a fierce corpse?

So then how could Jiang Cheng, the man who had raged against anyone who dared speak the name of the Ghost General, who hated Wen Ning for making his nephew an orphan, who refused to let Wen Ning set foot in Lotus Pier—how could he so casually ‘forget’ what Wen Ning was?

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng gasped and jerked awake. His eyes were wide. Disbelieving.

“J-Jiang Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng seemed to struggle for words. He turned his head toward Wen Ning. He almost looked like he felt guilty about something.

“Go outside.”

“What…what happened?”

“Go.”

Wen Ning obeyed and hurried out of the cave. He looked over his shoulder at Jiang Cheng and saw him remove a small tan pouch from his robes.

What is he doing?

Wen Ning decided that it was best to respect Jiang Cheng’s demand for privacy. Anything to get them closer to the cure.

He found a comfortable place to sit and played with a handful of pebbles as he waited, rolling them through his fingers, wondering if the sensation felt a bit more defined than usual.

Several minutes later, there was a scuffing sound. He glanced up, expecting to see a standing figure, but had to redirect his eyes downward to where Jiang Cheng was crawling on the ground at the mouth of the cave.

Wen Ning jumped up. He helped Jiang Cheng to his feet, holding him upright. “Did you summon the goddess?”

A peculiar expression appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face. He shifted his jaw in discomfort, his dark eyes darting away. “I summoned something.”

“What was it? Does it know how to find the cure?”

“The Ever-Frozen Flower grows in the center of the western forest. Its nectar is the cure. It only blooms for a few moments at the coldest point of the night, and we need to harvest its nectar while its open.”

“Great! That’s it, then!”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He looked a bit happier than before, but still troubled by something.

Wen Ning noted that Jiang Cheng did not tell him what he had summoned.

Well, that was less important. They would have hours to wait until night when the blossom opened, so Wen Ning had time to ask again later.

This evening would be the second-to-last sunset before the fever fully consumed its victims. They had found a lead just in time.

“There’s hope,” Wen Ning said. “Thank you, Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “It was your idea.”

“But I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I’m…it’s good that you came.”

Jiang Cheng leaned away, which didn’t get him very far as Wen Ning’s arm was wrapped around his torso. “Er. Right. Let’s get out of the sun.”

His fever had already gotten hotter. He radiated heat so strongly that even Wen Ning felt it as he held the man’s shaking body.

It had been a long time since Wen Ning had this much physical contact with someone. Especially someone so…warm.

“R-Right.” Wen Ning guided him back into the shadows of the cave.

Wen Ning prepared another dose of medicine, taking his time now that there was no rush to rummage through the village or find clues. They had their answer. They just needed to get the timing perfect to harvest the Ever-Frozen Flower’s nectar. Wen Ning felt lighter now, relieved that a cure was in sight.

“Here.” He held out the medicine to Jiang Cheng, who was all but melting from the fever by now.

He swallowed it immediately. “Thank you.”

Wen Ning shifted his weight as he kneeled in front of Jiang Cheng. Something felt off.

Since when did we start thanking each other for things?

“There’s only one dose left,” Wen Ning said. “There wasn’t much to begin with. I can get more medicine later.”

Jiang Cheng looked better already. “At least this sunset isn’t the last one. We have a full night to get the cure.” He rested the back of his head on the cave wall and closed his eyes. “Let’s hope whoever named this Four-Sunsets Flu didn’t get excited and overcount.”

Suddenly Wen Ning was laughing.

Jiang Cheng peeked at Wen Ning with half-open eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up. “You should know better than to laugh at a dead man.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I sure feel like it.” His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into the wall more.

“…Jiang Wanyin?”

“What?”

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

Wen Ning could only stare at him in disbelief.

He wants to visit my clan’s burial grounds? Is the flu affecting his mind too?

Then he realized that Jiang Cheng was staring at him, and he should have responded by now. “Oh—Oh, you should rest. It’s hot outside.”

“If you’d prefer to go alone, that’s fine.”

Wen Ning gently clasped his hands together. “No…that’s not what I meant.”

After a few moments, Jiang Cheng raised an arm, indicating for Wen Ning to help him up.

What a strange sight. The Jiang Clan Leader reduced to a feverish puddle, waiting to be picked up by a dead person he despised, to go visit more dead people. Wen Ning could’ve burst into laughter again.

* * *

With Wen Ning’s arm strapped around Jiang Cheng’s torso, they bowed in front of the memorial together, slightly out of sync.

The memorial that Wen Ning and A-Yuan had built was not too large. It was a carved stone that sat to the side of the older memorials in the Dafan Wen burial grounds. Simple and rudimentary, but crafted with care. Wen Ning could not imagine it any other way. Their branch of the Wen Clan had not been one for ostentation.

The bodies of Wen Ning’s family were not here. He did not even know if the Jin Clan had given them a proper burial. It filled him with rage to think about it.

The most he could do for his family’s spirits was to act like they were here. To hope that after he and A-Yuan honored them with the memorial, they had found their way home.

“A-Jie, it’s me. I hope you’ve been well.” Wen Ning’s throat felt dry. “A-Yuan has been growing up. He’s very happy with the Lans. You’d be proud of him.”

He pulled from his robes a small canister of dried fruit that he had packed before leaving for the journey, and placed the jar on the ground. “A-Jie, I b-b-brought apricots for you.” They had always been her favorite.

Suddenly Wen Ning felt heavy. The air was heavy, the sunlight was heavy.

Guilt struck him. He should have brought some of Uncle’s favorite liquor, and some rice cakes for Granny, and—

I miss you.

He should have been with them.

But now, how could he die?

What a cruel trick of fate. He was a walking reminder of what had become of the Dafan Wen, left behind to carry on their bloodline with no blood.

As he stood before the memorial, he felt phantom touches from years ago.

A hand in his.

He remembered lying in bed, just before falling asleep. Wen Qing held his hand. She made the bed tilt a little when she sat on the end of it, creating a tiny slope for Wen Ning to lean closer to her.

She loved music, but she was terrible at singing, so if Wen Ning wasn’t too sleepy he’d hum a song for her. It made soothing vibrations in his chest. Humming always felt the best when it was for his sister.

After he finished the song and began drifting off to sleep, Wen Qing squeezed his hand every so often, letting him know she was still there.

Then he remembered sitting on Granny’s lap. Feeling the subtle rocking of her body as she weaved red thread into a tassel she gave to Wen Ning. It was a charm for luck and protection. Wen Ning carried it with him everywhere.

He lost it three years later while exploring a forest. Granny had not been mad. She just weaved him another. By then, Wen Ning had grown too big to sit on her lap, so he sat at her feet instead to watch her weave, feeling warmth on his back from the small fire crackling behind him.

He didn’t know where that tassel from Granny was now.

He remembered Wen Qing’s hand on his forehead. Those gentle pats that she always gave him. Sometimes soft, sometimes chiding, but always loving. How she had to stand up on tip-toes to reach him once he got too tall.

A flash in his mind. He was overwhelmed with pain of the labor camp at Qiongqi Path. Blisters on his hands from chipping away the carvings of the Wen Clan to replace them with murals of the Jin Clan.

Hypocrites.

Broken bones in his legs when he didn’t obey. Agony that had only been bearable because he shared it with his family.

And then—a wooden spear through his chest. Ghosts that tore at him. Darkness and freezing cold.

Crinkly papers stuck all over him, and hard rock under his back. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing’s breath on his neck as they pleaded for him to come back, and how desperately he wished he could.

The day he did wake up, nothing felt the same. Not even his family embracing him in celebration, or Wen Qing hugging him tighter than she ever had before.

But he had felt her tears of joy—warm droplets on his dead skin—and that made him feel a little more alive.

He wished that he could cry now. That he had tears to drop into the dirt below the memorial, and maybe his tears would make Wen Qing a little more alive.

A hand in his.

The day he and Wen Qing stood before Jinlintai, Wen Ning had given his sister’s hand one last squeeze.

Why couldn’t he squeeze his sister’s hand again, and let her know that even now, he was still here?

A-Jie, please come to your next life soon. I will search until I find you.

Jiang Cheng was trembling as Wen Ning held him.

He hadn't been shaking so much before. Had the hot sun made the fever worse?

“Why did she choose Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng said. His voice was quiet.

All Wen Ning could manage was a confused grunt in response.

“She gave her life for him.”

The shaking stopped.

“I should’ve been the one to do that!”

Wen Ning did not know how to react. Who would have expected that at his own family’s memorial, it would not be he who cried out, but the man who let them die? Jiang Cheng had feelings for Wen Qing once, he suspected, but he never would have thought they ran this deep.

“Wei Wuxian had already given up so much to let us live in peace a little longer,” Wen Ning said quietly. “It was the least we could do in return.”

Jiang Cheng gave him a perplexed look, as if Wen Ning had said something offensive and out of place. Then his expression melted into unease and he quickly turned away, like he was afraid of Wen Ning discovering something in his eyes.

Then Wen Ning understood. He had been talking about Jiang Yanli.

Both of them were mourning their older sisters.

Wen Ning decided that it would be kinder to pretend he didn’t know Jiang Cheng’s true thoughts. “She did like you,” he said.

Jiang Cheng shifted, but didn’t respond.

“Although she wished that you stood up for us. We all did. But in a way, we understood. No one’s position was easy back then.”

Stillness. Only the numb feeling of Jiang Cheng in his arms.

“You had your clan to worry about. And there was…” Wen Ning trailed off. There had been Jiang Yanli for Jiang Cheng to worry about, but it was better not to say that.

Jiang Yanli had gotten married while the Wens lived at the Burial Mounds. She had visited them, given Wen Ning soup he couldn’t taste, but he appreciated that soup more than most meals he had when he was still alive.

When Jiang Yanli visited, she had even let him see her bridal dress.

And I killed her husband.

Her own death was just as terrible. It hadn’t been at Wen Ning’s hand, but it might as well have been, linked as his sins were with Wei Wuxian’s.

Jiang Yanli would not have died if Wen Ning had been able to control himself at Qiongqi Path.

And neither would have Wen Qing.

A-Jie...

A thought that Wen Ning had been pushing down rose to the surface of his mind.

Was Wei Wuxian’s life more important than Wen Qing’s?

She had warned Wen Ning to stay away from Wei Wuxian. Yet he had chased after the boy over and over, first only doing small things like stealing Wen Qing's medicine to give to him, but eventually bringing Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli to Yiling as fugitives, when his sister had never asked to save them.

At the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning had tried to convince her not to turn herself in to the Jins. She hadn't listened.

But it was Wen Ning who owed the most to Wei Wuxian. Wen Qing had made enough sacrifices.

It should have been Wen Ning who went to Jinlintai. Only Wen Ning.

I should’ve protected her.

Would things have really been different had Jiang Cheng protected the Wens? Would Wen Qing still be alive?

His mind drifted back to the memorial in front of him, to Jiang Cheng, who now felt a little more solid in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Wen Ning said. “Caring about my family too late is better than never.”

“Don’t act like it’s worth anything now,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. “You shouldn’t be so quick with empty words like that.”

“I didn’t mean that I forgive you. I don’t.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and looked away from the memorial.

Wen Ning stared at the jar of dried apricots on the ground. It was such an inadequate offering for his sister, but he knew she would be happy with them anyway. She had never asked as much of Wen Ning as she should have. “There are others who will forgive you no matter what.”

Jiang Cheng began trembling again. Perhaps he was still thinking about his family.

Or maybe this time, it was Wen Ning who was trembling. Their movements were starting to blend together the longer they stood in front of the memorial.

They were not friends. Even by a stretch, they could barely be called allies. But if they were together right now, then they should be together, shouldn’t they?

Wen Ning took Jiang Cheng’s hand and squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng glanced down at their interlaced hands.

Wen Ning was not meant to touch the living. Not even A-Yuan accepted his touch without a shiver. Yet this felt natural, like it was the only thing meant to happen right now.

“I miss my sister too,” Wen Ning said, deciding to stop pretending that he didn’t know Jiang Cheng was thinking about Jiang Yanli.

“Your sister…your sister was a good person,” Jiang Cheng said.

“So was yours.”

The sound of Jiang Cheng’s breath became uneven, then slowly steadied. “...So are you.”

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3.

Ch. 3 >

#chengning #ningcheng #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #the untamed fanfic #powered by sufjan stevens #mdzs #the untamed #cql #jiang cheng #wen ning #jiang wanyin #wen qionglin #ifdchallenge2021 #emilu draws #emilu creations

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the-darklings · 4 years

Note

Hi so.. I just finished watching The Ruthless on Netflix (because riccardo looked v cute in it) and there’s a scene, SPOLIER.. where his mistress asks him to marry her😳 I immediately thought of Camorra V because like she’d be that 👏bitch👏 she knows V!santi and she loves, adores, and understands him and if he just gives her the chance she’s willing to prove it. I just wanna know what his reaction would be to her proposing in a very uncharacteristically vulnerable situation 👉👈🥺

You are right. She is. So:

…

“Bella?”

His voice is thick with sleep, his words scratchy and low, causing you to glance over your shoulder with a slight grin.

Finally managing to hook the diamond earring into your ear, you turn to face him.

The sight of him sprawled across your sheets, his lips bitten and hair mussed, fills you with a warm sense of feminine satisfaction. No one has ever looked so good in your bed before despite how many have tried to crawl into it. Very few have been granted the privilege but this man…

“Good morning, grumpy.”

He licks his lower lip, and even though he looks sleepy and softer than usual, you still feel the drag of his gaze down your body. The appreciation there, the heat.

Oh, how far you have come.

“Going already?”

Suppressing a smirk, you cut across the room and have to fight back a laugh at the intent way he watches you move. He’s on his back, a hand resting behind his head and you admire the lean cuts and dips of his chest and arms. The marks of your lovemaking are still visible on his tanned skin and an irrational part of you feels smug at that, too.

There is no one left that could ever question what you and your delightful Viper have now.

Your eyes drag down his form slowly. Down his chest and stomach, catching only a glimpse of his bare hip before your silken sheets hide away the rest. You linger on there, thinking over a great many things you will do with him…later.

Santino’s breaths have evened out under your scrutiny, and when you finally look at him the burn of hunger in those gorgeous green eyes is clear. Your legs brush against your shared bed as you come to a stop and you grin softly at him.

“Hmm, a criminal empire doesn’t run itself, darling,” you remind him, but it’s a gentle, teasing thing.

Santino’s other hand comes to cup the back of your thigh, his thumb rubbing a loving circle against your knee. “Stay with me this morning,” he says, his voice hoarse and your eyelashes flutter at his touch. “Don’t go.”

Damn him. Him and his ability to turn you into… this.

Your patience might have been reward but he makes you feel unearthed too often. You’re not used to such a feeling, nor do you particularly enjoy relying on anyone but yourself.

Sighing, you shake your head slightly. But that look in his eyes is so inviting that you hitch your dress higher before climbing onto the bed smoothly, straddling him with a simple parting of your legs.

His breath hitches as you lower yourself onto his lap, making it your throne. Your fingers graze up the strong, lean muscles of his chest, and his arms wrap around you in reply. One comes to rest against your lower back, keeping you steady while his other settles against your thigh, lazily stroking the skin there. So similar to last night when his fingers sank into the flesh of your leg to keep them hooked around his waist. His grip then was desperate but now it’s tender.

You lean over him, ghosting your lips over his and he groans, tilting his head so he can demand a kiss from you. Smiling into the kiss, you swipe your tongue over his lower lip just like you saw him do earlier, and swallow the breathless rumble from deep inside his chest. His grip on your tightens and you can feel the effect you’re having on him. Good.

You refuse to be alone in your passion. In this hunger.

Your mouth traces over his jaw and you press a slow kiss against his neck. And there—

A whiff of your perfume from last night still lingers on his skin and you kiss the skin again, savouring the warmth against your lips. God, you do enjoy him far, far too much.

“If you do that again,” he warns, his voice strangled, deliciously low. “You will not be leaving this bed, amore. I don’t much care about your meetings.”

You kiss his neck again—this time adding tongue and a scrape of teeth against his pulse, too. Your fingers stroke the familiar silver chain that was once your mother’s possessively and you repeat the gesture again. His arms snap to your hips, his touch deliberate and letting you know that he’s moments away from switching your positions and you chuckle, lifting your head to look at him.

“What’s this?” you murmur, your thumb brushing over his cheek and you don’t shy away from his raging stare. No sleepiness to be found in his eyes now. “I thought you wanted me to stay?”

“Devil woman.”

Your slight grin stretches and his own gaze softens a touch, too, focusing on your smile. Perhaps due to the rarity of them. Genuine ones, at least. It’s certainly the same with him. Once every smile and laugh have felt like a victory. Now he gives them more freely. Unguarded. Just for you.

He’s dangerous. Not only because of who he is or what he can do but because—

It’s been several months of this. Several months of no walls, no reservations. Months of laughter and danger and all-consuming sort of passion. It’s like the friendship you’ve had for years has been amplified. But it doesn’t change what you know deep down.

“What is it?”

You blink at his question, at the warmth of his fingers against your cheek. His thumb brushes over your mouth, and you kiss it lightly, shaking your head.

“Nothing.”

Shifting, you move to get off his lap but his hand wraps around your wrist, stilling you.

“Tell me.”

Your eyebrow arches in amusement and you fight back another smile. Not many have lived past trying to command you. In fact, only Gianna and Hector could get away with using that tone with you. And now him.

For a long moment, you only look at him. The tensions between you seems to have transformed, and you scrutinise him for another silent minute before you finally speak.

“I’m thinking,” you begin quietly and lean closer again, gripping the tip of his chin between your manicured fingernails. Painted a pretty, vivid green. It was his birthday last night after all. A little tribute was a must, as was the shimmering dark green gown you had worn. The very same one he could barely wait long enough to rip off your body. “That if you continue looking at me like that, I might just steal you away forever and marry you, green eyes.”

He goes rigid beneath you.

It takes him a second to resume breathing again and you pull away with a knowing, cynical tilt of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure him with a chuckle, playing for unfazed. “I’m not putting any rings on you just yet. Besides, if Gianna and Hector learned that I had to force you into a marriage, I would never hear the end—”

He kisses you. Deeply and with his hands coming to cup your cheeks as he tugs you closer. You feel him pour every ounce of emotion into it and a shiver crawls up your spine. The kiss is almost bruising and the tip of his nose digs into your cheek, his hot breath searing across your lips when he finally pulls back.

It’s been months of passion and frankly mindblowing sex between you because god knows both of you can be insatiable but…

He has never kissed you quite like that. It’s like being kissed with more than just lips, more than his hands or eyes.

Shuddering, you press your mouth into a thin line, feeling that dizzying quiver deep inside your chest. It scares you sometimes, even if you would never admit to anyone but your sister, what this man makes you feel. How much you may actually—

“I want it to be you,” he whispers in Italian, low and guarded, as he continues holding your face between his hands. His gaze is so serious, it’s an effort to keep your own expression straight. “Even if not…right now. It’s you, amore. It will only ever be you.”

“Do not make me promises—”

“But I am,” he interrupts and swallows thickly, manoeuvring your face till your foreheads touch and he gives you a smug, crooked little grin. “Do you really think you can get rid off me so easily now, hm? Not a chance, bella. It’s you and me now, mia signora.”

…

an: I want to see that movie too because my ass can’t get over the fact that Riccardo plays a wannabe Italian mobster in the 80ties who is named….wait for it…Santo lmao.

#santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick fic #fanfiction #reader insert #am i trying to make amends to team S after the latest chapter?? mayhaps. a touch.#i love self indulgent stuff ayyyy #s: i can wait

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satans-helper · 4 years

Text

Thank you for tagging me @beautifulcinephile and @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade!! I’m doing both of yours, respectively, in one go.

Rules: Answer 10 questions, tag 10 people and make another 10 questions.

1. What would you do if you switched bodies with your favorite celebrity?

Alright so I would be switching bodies with Nick Cave...I don’t know what he’s gonna do with mine, but while I’m in his body, I am going to try on ALL his clothes and dance a lot.

2. If you were a Greek god/goddess, which one would you be?

I’m gonna go with Artemis...goddess of the hunt, wild animals, aggressive and fierce, protective of women and children...sounds right.

3. What is your go-to accessory while going out?

I don’t accessorize apart from the jewelry I wear every single day, so...I got nothing, unfortunately! For a night out, I won’t be taking my backpack lol

4. You’re trapped on the last movie you saw. How would your life be like?

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen? Oh that would be LIT. I would have outlandish clothes and an outlandish teenage life!

5. What would you like to do when the quarantine ends?

Be free of some extra anxiety and go to a goddamn concert!

6. Which food do you crave right now?

I am FULL and only craving water

7. Do you use post-its?

I do occasionally at work!

8. Do you own a piece of clothing or jewelry that belonged to a member of your family?

Yes! My gold chain was my grandfather’s and I also wear some of my grandmother’s rings.

9. Describe your ideal summer vacation.

Oh man...a few days of camping would be great. Like, turn off the phone, lie under the stars, swim in the lake, romp around, hike, live it up. I also would really love to revisit the ocean, I haven’t been there in a decade, and lying on the beach for a few days would be absolutely amazing.

10. Complete the sentence: “10 years ago, I was...”

An idiot.

1. Without saying the title, describe the cover of your favorite album

A spring day

2. Imagine you’re living in the world described by the last book/story you’ve read. How would your life be?

Oh! Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass...that would literally be a dream come true! What an absolute trip. My life would be totally bizarre and kooky, oftentimes unsettling and quite dangerous since it’s like, an inescapable sort of universe.

3. If you could go anywhere in the world for a day, where would you go?

The mountains. Like, any mountains, as long as they’re green and I can experience the sun.

4. Describe your ideal room decor

I think my current decor is pretty ideal for me. So many aspects of my tastes and personality are reflected in it. There’s something to look at in every corner.

5. What languages do you want to learn (if any) and why (or why not)?

In an ideal world I would learn Spanish because that would be very useful, but in all honesty I will never even try. Learning languages has never been my thing.

6. Is there a song that seems to switch something in you each time you listen to it? Which is it?

Gideon by My Morning Jacket. I can’t describe the feelings it evokes...but it does make me feel very full while also torn apart inside. I have the same physical and emotional reaction every time I listen to it, so I don’t listen to it often as much as I love it.

7. Earbuds or over-ear headphones?

Earbuds all the way

8. Do you collect anything? What are you collecting and how did you start doing it?

I don’t really have any intentional collections. I pick up things from outside and save them pretty frequently--acorns, pine cones, stones, broken glass, bones, etc. I also collect any Jesus or Catholic sort of imagery I find, but that was never an intentional thing either.

9. You’re going out with your best friend for dinner in the city center. What do you order?

I don’t think I’ve ever been to any of the restaurants in my city center LOL they’re generally a little upscale for me! But if we’re doing that, I’m probably going to go all out and get a steak or some sort of nice cut of meat AND a cocktail.

10. If you would be granted three wishes, what would you wish for?

A better body; all my student loan debt to disappear; a job I enjoy that pays better and has health benefits.

---

Alright y’all, here are my questions:

Would you rather become a star or a cloud? Why?

Have you ever had a dream shake you so much that even years later, it’s still vivid in your mind? Care to share?

If you were to name and make a cocktail after yourself, what would it be?

Has the universe appointed you a “spirit animal?” If not, what would you want it to be if you could choose?

What was the best meal you ever made for yourself?

What was the best meal that was made for you?

If you had to plan your own birthday party but you had to pretend you were 10 years old again, what would the party be like?

Out of all of the horror movies you’ve seen, which would you be most afraid of living in and why?

What’s one of your most irrational fears?

What’s something you tell yourself to bring yourself comfort?

I tag @oblvions @ashesandacidrain @woman-ina-dream @dufflesmckagan @imacrowcawcaw @mountainofthesunn @silver--storms @roseyzeppelin @therealswanqueen @juvinadelgreko @love-philautia @whoisshewhatisshedoing if y’all want ~~

#tagged

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Hazbin Hotel: That’s Entertainment! (Remix)

ORIGINALLY OWNED BY VIVZIEPOP, NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED.

Enter the royal Magne Family

In Heaven, perfection, order, fun, and peace are priorities. God is an elderly man with a similar appearance to Jesus. His Archangels serve has his guards and advisers. They make up a larger angel council, which discuss different matters. Some of the citizens are humans with white wings while others are animal-like. The majority of angels have white faces, red blushes on their cheeks and silky hair.

The dark creepy robotic angels of death are used to exterminate the citizens of Hell to not only reduce their population, but to also plant fear. They have silver weapons that can kill any demon, as well as humans. They were made creepy on purpose: to fight fear with fear. They are sent down once a year to purge the citizens at random.

The buildings in heaven are silver, gold, and some are embedded with precious gems. The citizens learn prayer, singing, dancing, and being kind of each other. The society is heavily bent on rules: honor thy father and mother, no smoking, drinking, lust, or gambling. Cussing isn’t allowed. The barrier separating the worlds is a Christian cross within a circle, similar to the pentagram in hell in the red sky.

Heaven and Hell are actually two sides of the afterlife coin. Though they may be opposites, they also coexist together. The majority of inhabitants were originally humans from Earth (except the evil humans went to Hell, while heroic humans went to Heaven).

Lucifer and Lilith both bonded, due to their experiences of being banished from Heaven and Eden respectfully. Lucifer was originally a light-bearing angel, and part of God’s inner circle. He looked very similar to his current appearance: white face, short white elegant hair, and pearly white teeth (not sharp fangs). Like the other archangels, he would make sure that everything was in order, that rules were followed, and that the formerly humans were having fun. He even helped make chains of flowers and daises (which now disgusts him).

Lucifer’s fall began one fateful day when God decided to give flawed humans a second chance. Now, instead of only heroic individuals granted access to Heaven, He welcomed ordinary people with open arms. What was even more bizarre, was the arrival of former humans now in animal-like forms and vivid colors: horses, dogs, lions, eagles, even mythical creatures. Appalled by the sudden changes, Lucifer claimed that those “inferior mortals” should not be granted access to paradise. God and the other archangels disagreed with him.

Raphael was Lucifer’s opposite. Unlike him, Raphael was kindhearted and discouraged any form of pride. He took his role in service to God very seriously…and if that meant the creation of humanity, then he would still be loyal.

It wasn’t long before Lucifer and the archangels Michael, Gabriel, etc. engaged in battle. Lucifer wasn’t alone: there was another angel named Azrael who was Lucifer’s friend and adviser. While Lucifer fought Raphael, Azarael clashed with Gabriel.

And of course, Michael battled Lucifer’s darker form, which had emerged from him after his anger was released. Michael used a flaming sword while the darker Lucifer used the same version of Lucifer’s weapon, the Morning Star. This darker Lucifer was quickly vanquished from Heaven and would later form Satan.

Refusing to obey God, Lucifer, Azarael and the other rebel angels were cast from Heaven and banished to Hell as punishment. Azarael would later become a demon and a teacher of the dark arts in Hell.

Lucifer is one of the few who knows the names of the robotic purge Angels of Death: Puriel, Kushiel, Teneluehus, Raguel, Wormwood, Jeheel, Zacheniel, Ababhar, and their leader, Abaddon. Originally regular angels sent to punish the souls of sinners, they were later modified into the ultimate killing machines. Sent down to Hell once every year, they slaughter the citizens at random to control the population and strike fear into those who oppose God. Lucifer, however, wasn’t afraid…he only wanted vengeance for his banishment.

Instead of fearing his evil form…Lucifer embraced it. Testing out his newfound powers of destruction, he decided to take a position of power and rule as he saw fit. How did he do that? By murdering opponents and becoming the king of Hell. (However, he and Satan were different entities).

The first king of Hell was Bael, who had the power to make himself and his army invisible. Paimon was the second king, teacher of science, the arts, and made great contributions in expanding Pentagram City. The third king, Beleth was ruthless and cruel to the lower class and even to his own subjects. He rode a black war horse made of dark flames. Beleth overthrew Paimon and Bael and became ruler before Lucifer arrived. Asnodi was a king of another circle of Hell, with the heads of a bull and a man. Vine was gender neutral and created storms using only their mind. Beleth defeated the seer kings Purson and Balam, the bull king Asnodi, and even Zagun, a ruler who could turn water into blood and oil. The remaining kings were under the authority of Beleth and Zagun.

Eventually, Lucifer engaged in battle with Beleth and the kings…and won. He became the new ruler of Hell and the older kings were quickly forgotten. The apple was adapted into the architecture of the hotel and an apple was also prominently on Lucifer’s staff and white hat to show his status. This is reminiscent of the legend of Adam and Eve, and a way to remind both Lucifer and Lilith of their pasts. The couple also created purple snakes for decoration and defense, also related to the snake Satan, who had deceived Eve in the myth.

Lucifer had fellow frenemies known as Astaroth (the dragon creator of self- doubt) and Beelzebub (a greedy wealthy Fly Lord). They made the Unholy Trinity and each agreed to rule different areas of Hell (though Lucifer was the most powerful of the three and was known by the majority of Hell).

Lucifer then met the beautiful Lilith, with her long pale hair, graceful figure, and powers of her own. She had been Adam’s former wife and wanted to be equal to him instead of submissive. Lilith was kicked out of Eden and was given a choice: either reside in Hell or be forced to give birth to demonic offspring only for them to be killed each day. Lilith chose Hell and soon gave into her selfish ways.

Her life changed when she met Lucifer. Here was an individual so similar to her. Emphasizing over their past lives, enjoying each other’s appearances, (add in a couple of drinks of heavy wine) and they soon gave birth to Princess Charlotte, also known simply as Charlie. Lilith and her husband were constantly busy with keeping up their status, interacting with other elite officials, etc. Lilith also worked as a model, becoming very influential.

Charlie’s Childhood

A loud screech echoed throughout the industrial hospital somewhere in Pentagram City. Lilith was lying down on a bed, shaking legs apart, sweat coating her forehead. Beside her was her husband Lucifer, who put a comforting clawed hand on her shoulder.

“Keep pushing, mon amour,” he encouraged. “It should be over very soon.”

“That’s what you said several hours ago,” Lilith countered, her face straining. “We were so close to making it back to our comfortable home, but then…”

She paused after catching her breath.

“…my water broke, and now we’re at this slum of a hospital instead. With these…things to keep us company.”

She looked at the busy imps nearby with disdain in her silvery eyes. One of them was busy administering medication into her lower back to ease the pain. Two others stood close to her legs, ready to deliver the child.

“My privacy invaded, just before my midnight photoshoot,” she muttered. “At least I haven’t changed into my nicest dress yet.”

She currently was wearing a crimson long red dress with black zebra-like stripes running diagonally down the front. Another dress was neatly folded in a nearby suitcase. She blew a strand of her long blonde hair away from her pale face. Her signature long red horns protruded from her head. Her black crown of thorns was nettled in her leather purse on a side chair.

Lucifer was wearing his traditional white and red dress suit with a black bow tie below his neck and fancy long white pants. A large white top hat nested over his blonde slicked back hair. A purple snake and a red apple were also on the hat. His cane had a matching red apple on the top. His skin was pale white, his eyes were yellow, and his cheeks were rosy off to the sides.

Lilith sighed, already concerned with her upcoming tasks for the week. Besides modeling and negotiating with elite officials, she was a singer of a band called Resist. “When I’m done with this, I’m going to have to come up with another song for Resist. Maybe something called, “Angel Anarchy.” Or “Oppressive Heaven.” “Evil’ is ‘Live’, Backwards?” Should I do a haunting solo…or try for a metal scream?”

The contractions began again, and the demon mother wailed in pain for several minutes.

“Make it stop, make it stop, uuuughh…” she groaned.

Lucifer turned away slightly. He was used to hearing and seeing his opponents and victims writhe in pain, especially after his conquest of Hell many years ago.

But seeing his wife in pain like that…

“I’m going to be a father…I can’t believe it…”

“It is nice to have a greater purpose in life, besides just being rulers of Hell, don’t you think?” Lilith asked.

“I guess you’re right,” Lucifer answered. “When our child is old enough, he or she will be able to carry out our traditions and be a great ruler someday. I already picked out a boy name: Azarael, after my former friend in Heaven.”

“I don’t know,” Lilith countered. “It reminds me of those bastard angels too much.”

“Eldritch, then.” He suggested. “It means “old ruler.” Our last name means “fierce warrior.”

“Absolutely not,” Lilith argued. “What good would it be to have our child named after the last name of our rivals? How about a girl’s name instead? Something like…Vivienne! It means “alive.”

Lilith looked at him. “Have you looked into our ancestry books at the library again?”

“I have to find something to do when I’m bored,” he said. “Playing instruments is wonderful, but sometimes I need some ideas.”

Lucifer was still too embarrassed to admit that he was bad at playing the guitar and keyboard.

“Do these ideas involve rooms besides our grand library?”

Lucifer grinned and playfully winked. “Maybe they do.”

“Remember when we met at that concert for the first time?” Lilith asked, taking deep breaths, trying to ignore the lingering pain.

“Oh yes,” Lucifer said, nostalgia in his eyes. “I’ve never heard anyone sing as beautifully as you did that night.”

“And then we went to the Damnation Bar several days later after Krampus came along for the holidays?”

“Yep, I remember. Stupid old me got into a drinking contest with Beezelbub. You were drinking blood red wine and laughing your head off.”

“You did look pretty silly dancing on the countertop when you thought you had won the contest.” She let out a soft musical laugh.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “But I did though! That Fly Lord cheated by flying around and gulping down several glasses in all six hands. I almost destroyed him, too, but the room was spinning too much.”

Lilith smiled. “The best part was when you went through your drunken phase. You massacred a group of demons because you thought they worked for Jesus.”

“And we had tons of fun back at home,” he admitted.

“It was both pleasure-inducing and equal,” Lilith added. “Unlike my terrible first intimate encounter with that stubborn Adam. I did love being on top at the very end!”

“Ooookay,” said a nearby imp out loud. “I think I’ve heard enough for now. How about I check to see what’s going on in there…”

The imp male adjusted an emerging bald head and Lilith seethed. “You touch me like that again, and I’ll use your entrails for a necklace!”

“What’re you gonna do? Charge me for rape? I’m just lucky to have a job in general, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. Of all the snob patients I’ve worked with…”

A flick of Lucifer’s fingers caused the imp to explode in a mess of blood and organs. A dragon demon with a doctor’s coat peered in.

“Clean that up,” he mentioned to another imp with a mop and walked away. As the janitor imp did his work, a red-faced female imp arrived into the room. She peered over at the ultrasound.

After half an hour, the contractions began again, this time, more intense.

“NON, NON…MERDE!” she swore. Lilith pushed long and hard, gripping onto the side of the bed.

Lucifer and the imps comforted her over her yells.

Then at last…the bald baby’s head emerged from between her legs, the head covered in blood. The placenta soon followed.

“It’s a girl!” announced the imp.

After the baby was cleaned, the imp placed the infant into Lilith’s arms. Lucifer and Lilith both cried with joy.

“She has your horns,” Lucifer said, watching as small red horns shot from her head, then retreated back in.

“And your face,” Lilith added.

Sure enough, the girl had the same rosy cheeks and pale face as her father. Stubs of white fangs were already peeking out from her gums.

“You know what?” Lilith asked. “I think I found the perfect name for her.”

“I think I do, too.”

“Charlotte,” they both said out loud.

“Congratulations, you too,” said the female imp, who began running some diagnostics. “Part angel, part demon,” she mentioned, after a DNA test.

“Very powerful indeed,” Lucifer said with satisfaction. “She will make a great Princess someday. Charlie the Great.”

When the family got home, Lilith placed Charlie in a comfy crib in the upstairs room. Charlie wailed and cried, not wanting to go to sleep.

“I have an idea,” said Lucifer. He snapped his fingers.

Two small animated snakes soon hung above her crib. They spun in slow circles on a mobile. Charlie stared mesmerized, even reaching out a small hand to pet their lavender heads. Lilith opened a window where the screams of victims and the roars of fires could be heard. Lucifer’s haunting lullaby added to the dark ambience.

“Rock-a-bye baby in the dark pit

When the corpses rot, the flames will be lit

Writhing in pain as life slips away

Never see again the bright light of day”

Little Charlie was soon fast asleep.

Lilith gently kissed her daughter on her forehead. “Sweet nightmares, my darling.”

Many years later, Lucifer was dragging a young Charlie over to a large room for her piano and music lessons.

“Daddy,” she cried, “I don’t wanna go!” The young girl was wearing a black skirt, a nice white shirt with a black bow tie and black tap dancing shoes. She clutched one of her demon dolls in her hand.

“It is important that you learn the proper techniques of playing and singing traditional songs.”

“But I wanna sing my own songs!” the child protested, her short curly blonde hair bouncing up and down.

“We can’t get what we want all the time,” said her father. “If you want to make a good impression on our people, then practice is the first step. Particularly at such a young age.

Charlie pouted as she walked into an ornate room with a black grand piano in the center. Her music teacher was a plump woman with peacock feathers in her black hair, teal skin, and a dress of sequins.

Her instructor led her through several songs. Charlie’s shaking fingers struggled to hit the right keys at the right time. She flinched every time she made a mistake.

At one point, she got so frustrated, that she transformed into her demonic self and sang one of her songs in a fury. Standing up and spreading out her hands, she lifted up the grand piano and threw it into the air. The instrument landed on her music teacher with a large crash. The demon teacher gasped and then her body went still.

Charlie covered her mouth with her hands as a tense silence filled the space.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it…I just didn’t want to play anymore…”

She glanced nervously at her father. But instead of anger, her father was crying tears of joy.

“Oh my dear Charlotte, I’m so proud of you! You did a splendid job.”

Feeling relieved, Charlie beamed and embraced her father.

As the years went by, Charlie went through lessons on dining etiquette, manners, demonology history, music history, and politics.

During one quiet day, a young Charlie frolicked in the brown grass, while bare trees reached for the beige polluted sky. She wore a dress of white and dull lavender, with a matching colored sunhat with a pink bow on her head. She smiled as she sat down on her knees. A bunch of small red daisies dotted the field and she picked them up one by one. She held a bundle of them in her hands and sniffed their sweet scent. She heard a familiar voice nearby.

“I never knew that natural beauty could exist in this place.”

Charlie turned to see her mother walk gracefully through the grass. Her corset-like dress was light brown down the front, with long white sleeves and a dark brown top covering her shoulders and neck. Black gloves covered her fidgeting hands. A brown sun hat with a black spider and web on top nestled over her long blonde hair.

Lilith knelt down beside her daughter in the grass.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Mommy?” the young girl asked. “A whole bunch of flowers here for us to enjoy. Most of the demons here don’t appreciate the small things in life.”

“That’s true,” Lilith replied.

A strange sadness appeared in her eyes, which were yellow with black sclera.

Charlie looked over. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Charlotte,” she replied.

“Do you think I’ll be able to make friends?” Charlie asked. “It seems like not many people want to be my friend. They don’t even care that I’m a so called princess.”

Lilith tried to find a way to comfort her.

“Well, you’re always optimistic, positive in almost any situation. And you’re quite tough as well. No one has messed around with you.”

“Like Daddy, said, “don’t take any shit from demons.’ What shouldn’t I take from them, exactly?”

“Oh for Satan’s sake,” Lilith murmured.

“Huh?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing,” she said, waving a hand. “It just means be careful who you trust. Some may want to be your friend, but others are…wary. We’re the most influential family in Hell and we strive for chaotic order.”

“Meaning like having parties and singing songs and stuff?”

Lilith hesitated. “Well…yeah, if you wish.”

Charlie beamed. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I bet we will do a great job for our new friends. Thanks, mommy!”

Charlie embraced her mother and then ran around happily in the park.

There was no point in Lilith telling her what was really on her mind. That Hell was no place for happiness and innocent fun. That many demons feared their family and envied them.

That Charlie would always be powerful and different…

…being part angel and part demon…and never living a previous mortal life.

Souls Inside Monsters

“Charlotte, it’s almost time for the show to begin. Hurry on down!”

A young teen demon was sitting in front of a mirror decorated with yellow eyes with black pupils along the elegant rim. She put on a dash of red lipstick while her two goat dolls, Razzle and Dazzle fixed her hair.

“Dad!” called the blond-haired princess from inside her room, “I told you to call me Charlie! Charlotte sounds too…strange.”

“Well that’s your name, you should be used to it by now.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and stared at her reflection: golden yellow eyes, a ghost white face with red blushes off to the side of her cheeks, razor sharp fangs when she smiled. She was so excited, she could barely sit still.

When her attendants were done, she stood up to admire herself and her outfit. A candy red pinstriped dress nearly touched the floor and felt slightly tight around her waist. An enchanted light purple snake was wrapped around her waistline, both serving as decoration and self-defense in case of grabby onlookers. It was very similar to the snake that her father Lucifer kept around his white top hat (though both were protective of their owners thanks to Lucifer’s magic). Spider web leggings covered her pale legs and on her feet were black tap-dancing shoes. One of her feet was already moving up and down slightly. Finally, Charlie wore a black spiked crown with a red apple gem in the center.

“My 150th birthday!” she exclaimed, doing several happy jumps. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while.”

Indeed, it had been 150 years since she had been born in Hell to the king and queen. Unlike humans, the demons hardly aged at all, or if they did, it was a very slow process. (Then again, they were already dead, so it didn’t really matter.)

But Charlie had heard of the interesting human tradition they called “birthdays” on Earth. She insisted to her parents they had to celebrate hers once a year.

While Lucifer had been reluctant, Lilith agreed.

“We can’t participate in that foolish human tradition,” Lucifer argued. “Especially since we aren’t alive and our people are supposed to be suffering twenty four, seven.”

“If it makes our daughter happy, then so be it,” she said. “Besides, no one else has to know. It’ll be one of our traditions.”

“Very well,” he said. “But since Charlie gets a special day of her own, why don’t we make some days special for us…if you know what I mean.”

He gave her a devilish wink and she grinned in return. “A special day for domination…I’m up for that.”

Charlie had then entered the room, asking “What’re you talking about?” and the topic was changed.

“So, about that meeting with the other overlords?” Lilith asked her husband.

“As usual, I warned them they needed to know their place.”

Rolling her eyes, Charlie had left to play the grand piano.

“Are you coming or not?” Lucifer asked, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m ready!” she called, opening the door.

There was her father in front of her, smiling his nearly ever-present grin. Like her, he had (much shorter) blond hair, a white face, blushes on his cheeks, and yellow eyes. He wore his usual white and candy red suit, with his white top hap with a snake along the rim. A black staff appeared in his hand with the Forbidden Fruit on the top: a red apple. Lilith walked over to stand beside him, wearing an elegant red dress and her usual black crown between her red horns on her head. She had blond hair even longer than Charlie’s and was taller than Lucifer.

“Oh Charlie,” exclaimed her mother in a soft voice, “You look so beautiful! You remind me of me when I was your age.”

Charlie embraced her mother in a happy hug. “Come on, now,” Lilith said, letting go and beckoning her to come forward. “Our guests are waiting.”

The “guests” were actually some of Lucifer’s snakes which he reluctantly enchanted to take on the appearances of…

“Disney Princesses and Harry Potter wizards,” Lucifer muttered in disgust. “It could’ve been wounded demons sprawling in pain on the ground like in the past…”

Charlie walked down the curving staircase down to the lobby of her family’s mansion. The “princesses” smiled and waved at her and some threw flower petals to her (which were actually dried scales dyed pink.)

“You know how much she doesn’t like that,” Lilith mentioned. Charlie took the stage and began to sing.

“But those enchantments aren’t even real,” he said. “It’s one of the ways to prepare her for her future duties as Hell’s princess.”

“And what’s the other way?”

Lucifer whispered into his wife’s ear and her eyes widened in both delight and hesitation.

“Oh that’s right. Today is also that day.”

“Surely she will enjoy getting a glimpse of what happens out in the world,” Lucifer smiled.

“But…what if it’s too much for her?”

“Too, much?” Lucifer asked. “She’s 150 now. She has to be ready. It’s a growing up right of passage that cannot wait any longer.”

They watched Charlie take a bow as her doll demons clapped.

“Trust me,” said Lucifer. “She’ll be delighted to witness her first…”

“Cake!” Charlie squealed. “Oh my Satan, that’s amazing!”

A devil’s food cake was rolled and set on a table in front of her. It had chocolate frosting (per her request), spidery snakes on the top and a fat red apple candle.

After singing to her in their deep hellish voices saved for certain occasions, Charlie pointed her clawed finger at the candle and the flame shot into the air, bursting into red apple fireworks. The noise spooked the apparitions and the regular snakes appeared once more.

For the first half of the private party, Charlie entertained her parents by demonstrating her dancing skills up on stage. For Charlie, dancing wasn’t just a hobby: it was a way of life and a method to express her deepest feelings that she couldn’t put into words. Razzle played the grand piano and Dazzle played a violin as Charlie sang.

As the day neared its end, the clock outside rang out twelve times. In the past years, Charlie would head upstairs to her room to watch musicals while her parents went outside for some “entertainment.” Now this time, Charlie would get a chance to be with her parents.

“It’s a special surprise, sweetie,” said Lucifer. “Since it’s a big day for you, I’d like you to follow us.”

He said it as if it were an order. Feeling bewildered, but still very excited, Charlie let her parents led her up the elevator and toward the uppermost balcony. Razzle and Dazzle followed close behind.

Soon, the group walked onto the balcony that overlooked the crimson sky and dark clouds of hell.

Charlie stared out into the distance as the clock tower rang one last time.

“I don’t see anything,” she said. “Are we waiting for fireworks? Or a rainbow?”

“Silly Charlotte,” said her mother with a smile. “You’re about to witness something even better than those things.”

“A spectacle that you’ll gladly remember for years into your rule,” her father added.

Charlie smiled wide, until seeing a speck of something in the distance. It looked like a circle of white light that slowly grew larger into the shape of a portal.

“Huh?” she asked.

Lucifer smiled. “Charlotte, welcome to your first Extermination.”

Then…a swarm of dark flying creatures burst out of the portal. The shadowy figures rained down on the city below. Charlie looked closer and could see they had black feathery wings, dark curved horns and glowing white halos on their heads. Each one carried variations of spears, harpoons and other weapons in their hands.

“What are those things?” she asked.

“They’re angels,” said her mother.

“Angels?” she asked. “You mean like the ones in human myths?”

“No, dear,” said Lucifer, his grin wide. “These are no myths.”

All of a sudden, one flew close by and Charlie reeled back in fright. The angel that glided past had an LED mask on with a large sinister grin and an x over its right eye. The angel threw the spear in his hand, and the weapon struck a large parrot-like demon in the heart. The bird let out a shrill squawk as it plummeted to the ground.

Charlie glanced down at the streets and let out a sharp gasp.

Down below, demons of all shapes and sizes scattered from the onslaught of angels descending on them like hungry vultures. A demon with three heads was unfortunate enough to have a harpoon struck through all his heads, causing the creature to collapse. Two other angels were choking a red dragon demon, the creature’s eye bulging. Two hellhounds whined in pain as electricity from another spear struck them both in the backs. The bipedal canines crashed to the ground and did not move again.

Nothing but screams, robotic laughter, and carnage. The longer she watched, the more frightened Charlie became. Soon, the rotten stench of death filled her nostrils.

She glanced back at her parents casually watching the show from their chairs like it was a musical.

Tears sprang from Charlie’s eyes.

“What is all this?! Why are you showing me this?”

“It’s a yearly extermination to reduce the population of sinners once a year,” explained Lilith. It was like she was talking about the weather.

“Those are our people!” she cried. “And you’re just letting this happen?!”

“There’s no need to act so brash,” Lucifer scolded. “It’s just a natural way of ensuring that evil gets a through cleansing.”

“Cleansing? This is murder!”

“Sadly, it’s a necessary act,” Lilith added.

“As you know, I was once an angel,” said Lucifer. “I was banished down here and nearly killed myself. But then God, the angels and myself came to an agreement. The Exterminators could kill citizens in Hell once every year, while we, the royal family, would be left alone. It does make sense, considering we are the most powerful individuals here.”

Charlie took several ragged breaths. “What’s so special about us? What about them?!” She pointed down toward the fleeing demons rushing into cars, stores, and even dumpsters to try and get away. Down over at the poor section of Imp City, the imps were even less lucky. The one ones who could escape were ones with enough proficiency to create small portals or to shapeshift into Exterminators to trick them.

“This is Hell, Charlotte,” Lucifer said, eyes narrowing in frustration. “Suffering is what those lowlife scum deserve to experience. Just be lucky that we don’t have to deal with that.��

“Vaggie,” Charlie breathed almost in a whisper, already concerned about her friend.

“Now stop fooling around and embrace this momentous occasion,” said Lucifer.

“No,” Charlie said.

“Excuse me?” asked Lucifer, eyebrows raised.

“NO!” she cried, tears running down her face. Her eyes turned red and her long horns emerged from her head. “I’m not gonna sit here and let more of my people die. I can’t believe you hid this from me all these years!”

Charlie summoned Razzle and Dazzle and the two goats lifted her up and carried her down to the streets.

“GET BACK HERE AT ONCE!” Lucifer bellowed.

Ignoring her father, Charlie landed down on the cracked asphalt, nearly stepping on a severed horned demon head. Razzle and Dazzle hovered nearby.

She saw three angels corner a frightened cat demon with a spotted brown face who held her paws up. Spears pointed toward her head and heart, the feline gave one last sorrowful meow.

“HEY!” Charlie bellowed in her demonic voice. She was seeing red. Her black shoes clacked against the pavement. “STAY AWAY FROM MY PEOPLE!”

The three angels turned at the same time, their eyes glowing red and teeth spread out when spotting her. The cat demon scurried up the wall with her claws and leaped from roof to roof out of sight.

Flames receding from her body, horns shrinking back, Charlie backed up in fear and gulped as the angels advanced, their weapons at the ready. Razzle and Dazzle shuddered and held on tightly to Charlie’s hands. Just as the angels threw the spears and Charlie closed her eyes…

She heard a sickening thud.

The spears had struck a pair of black fiery wings. The spears vanished in flames before flaming swords materialized out of thin air. The angels were struck by the swords, causing them to back up.

Lucifer’s eyes were red, his temporary black wings made from his enchanted snakes merged together.

“LEAVE.”

His demonic voice could stop the heartbeats of an entire group.

Charlie slowly stood up once the angels had retreated and stared into Lucifer’s glowing red eyes. He slowly turned his head toward her. Though he was furious with her, she could see a small tear roll down his cheek before being evaporated by the heat.

“IF YOU EVER DO SOMETHING FOOLISH LIKE THAT AGAIN, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER LEAVE OUR MANSION. YOU WILL BE GROUNDED UNTIL THIS PLACE FREEZES OVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Charlie nodded with a whimper.

“YOU WILL ACCEPT YOUR ROLE WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.”

Charlie glanced over toward a group of demons and gasped. As her father raised his hand toward her, something inside Charlie stirred. A peculiar feeling in her temple, just between her eyes began to tingle with warmth. It was almost as if time stood still.

When Charlie stared hard at the three homeless demons from a distance, she could almost see their faces briefly morph into their formerly human ones from their past lives: a white skinned bearded man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, a mother with a cut-up face in torn prostitute clothing, a sobbing blonde boy in the mother’s lap just learning how to use a gun…

Before Charlie could say anything, a glowing magenta pentagram surrounded her and she was transported back to her room with Razzle and Dazzle.

In high school, Charlie met Vaggie, a moth demon who would soon become her best friend, and girlfriend. Vaggie was frequently bullied by the other demon kids, but Charlie’s demon form was enough to get them to back off.

“Hi, I’m Charlie!” the princess said, bubbly.

“I’m Vaggie,” the young girl said shyly. Vaggie had long white hair and a pink ‘X’ over her left eye. Her overall appearance was goth-like. Her sclera was light pink and she wore a white mini-dress. Her left stocking had pink stripes while her right stocking was navy blue. There was even a pink bow in her hair. The two friends grew closer as time went on. Vaggie even gathered the courage to share how she died one Halloween night.

“It was back in 2014,” she said. “I was a regular Latino human who was fascinated by bugs and the supernatural. Punching asshole guys and slicing their nuts off was super fun. You know, black guys and white guys insulting my culture and all, I just wasn’t having it.”

She continued. “People thought I was weird, but I didn’t give a fuck. I was in love with this cute girl in my class, but this guy who claimed he was my boyfriend didn’t like that. He kept calling me a butch bitch and wouldn’t leave me alone. One night, on my way home from a punk rock concert, he appeared behind me and slammed me against the wall. He tore off my bra, pulled down my pants and…”

Her breath caught in her throat. Tears fell from her eyes. “His friends were standing there too…they just laughed at my naked form. He went into me over and over, and over again!”

She buried her face in her hands, as Charlie held her tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Vaggie,” she said quietly.

“Not only that,” she stuttered between sobs, “he stabbed me here…”

She pointed to her left eye,

“…and here…”

She mentioned to her breasts…

“…and finally set the rest of me on fire.”

Charlie was crying too, sharing her friend’s pain. “I can’t imagine what’s that’s like. To go through that…and being a human…”

“Well, I’m not a human anymore,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I’m a demon stuck in this hellhole. There’s a good reason I don’t trust men…I never trusted them when I was alive. Don’t even get me started on my abusive father.”

Charlie sat and listened, providing a source of comfort for her friend.

That’s Entertainment: present day

Both of Charlie’s parents envisioned their daughter as an asset to the family business. She was the princess of a hotel and they hoped that by encouraging demons to remain in fear and respect of their family, that no conflicts would arise.

But then, Charlie proposed something radical, unexpected…and even dangerous. She wanted to create the Happy Hotel as a place for sinners to redeem themselves. Lucifer thought it was a joke at first. Charlie had laughed and explained her plan.

“Isn’t it brilliant?” she asked, a smile on her face. She stood in the living room of their elegant home. “This could be the solution we need that could benefit everyone.”

Her father was not amused and her mother was skeptical.

“How would running a hotel cause the demons to change so fast?” he asked. “Your plan is impractical and downright ridiculous.”

“What makes you think this idea will work?” asked Lilith.

“Glad you asked,” said Charlie. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth wide and stood on a table.

Lucifer held up a hand.

“No singing necessary.”

Charlie let out a sigh and hoped down. “If the demons could become good people who give up their bad habits, just think how much better this world would be. Heaven wouldn’t need to exterminate the population year after year. Crime rates would drop, gambling and drugs would become afterthoughts. Who knows? Maybe those reformed enough could leave to live better afterlives!”

“Leave?!” asked Lucifer. “You do realize that demons were sent here for a reason. If they were to change their ways, then our economy and society would crumble. Even worse, there would be revolts, riots.”

Charlie stared with curiosity. “What’s bad about that?”

“It’d put our family and legacy at risk!” Lucifer replied. “Our livelihood depends on preserving tradition and establishing a chaotic order, if you will.”

“Our legacy could change for the better,” Charlie countered. “No more killings and despair for everyone. You may not think that anyone cares about purges, but I know that there are families out there who have lost beloved members due to those purges.”

“Me and the other demons do care about the purges,” Lucifer stated. “Which is why it would only get worse if demons decided to change.”

Lilith put a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Charlotte, I understand that you’re trying hard to do what’s best for Hell. I, too, wish things could have been different. Unfortunately, things are the way they are. It can’t be helped. Why make matters worse to begin with?”

Tears started to fall from Charlie’s’ golden eyes. “Why aren’t you guys listening to me?”

She pulled away. “If all of us want better lives here free from killings…”

She pointed to her drawing of the Happy Hotel on a piece of paper,

“…then this is the only way to make it happen.”

Lucifer crossed his arms, his eyes glowing red. “You will, under no circumstances, open that hotel.”

Charlie’s fangs grew slightly longer. “I have to try!”

Lilith sighed softly, looking back and forth as her family members argued.

Charlie took several deep breaths and placed her hand over her heart. “I know there’s good in every demon here. They just need to be reminded of their potentials, their purposes.”

“The purpose of demons,” said Lucifer with a glare, “is to suffer in damnation forever. None of them can be redeemed, that’s just who they are. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

Charlie groaned out loud in frustration. “I refuse to believe that!”

Lucifer sighed. “I know I can’t change your beliefs, but I’m still in charge. As king, I forbid you to…”

“La la la! Can’t hear you!” Charlie called, covering her ears.

“Now you’re just being childish,” said Lilith. “I’d send you to your room, but you’re 117 years old.”

“I feel like I’m 17 instead.”

“Age doesn’t matter,” said Lucifer. “Our legacy does, however. I will not allow you to drag it through the mud.”

“Then I’ll just create a new one!” said Charlie. Anger flooded her head and spread through her arms. Sparks of electricity danced around her clawed fingers. Charlie backed up from the living room and entered a long hallway. Her father followed.

Lilith stepped back and cussed under her breath. She knew a fight was coming on, and it was never pretty.

Charlie summoned balls of fire from her palms. Lucifer summoned his staff into his hand, a long black one with a red apple on top. The fireballs shot from Charlie’s hands but her father made them vanish on the spot with a wave of his hand. Charlie jumped into the air, ready to attack. Using his staff, Lucifer created a hole that dropped Charlie to a farther spot down the hall.

“I hate portals,” Charlie muttered.

Closing her eyes, Charlie conjured a flaming unicorn and hopped onto its back.

“For cupcakes and rainbows!” she shouted as she galloped forward toward her father.

“Enough of this!” he yelled. He shot a band of red energy at the unicorn, destroying it. Charlie tumbled to the ground, and then righted herself. Her entire body was then engulfed in flames, her black horns growing from her head. A volley of flames spread from her in every direction, breaking several windows and nearby vases. One painting depicting humans being thrown into a lake of lava crumbled to ash.

Lilith came into the room and gasped. “Charlotte!” she scolded. “That painting cost 240 souls to purchase!”

Ignoring her mother, Charlie danced around, avoiding her father’s attacks. “I’m sticking with my idea!”

Lucifer held out his hand, and a glowing red pentagram appeared on the floor under Charlie’s feet. Charlie jumped into the air, only for her to be surrounded by a web of neon red vines. Charlie’s fire from her body could not burn away the sharp vines restraining her.

“Father…let go!” she yelled.

Lucifer walled over to her, slowly. “Be grateful that you are my daughter,” he said. “If you were anyone else who had questioned me…”

“Lucifer,” warned Lilith from behind.

“Listen well, Charlotte, because I won’t say this again. If you know what’s good for you, you will give up on your idea and start behaving like an adult.”

“But I am an adult!” Charlie protested, no longer struggling. “And I’ve decided as princess to continue on with opening the hotel. It will be what’s best for us.”

The vines around her tightened.

Flames sparked in Lucifer’s eyes. “If you think causing a war is what’s best for us, then you are gravely mistaken. I had high hopes for you all these years. But now…you’re nothing but a failure.”

Charlie stared in newfound shock, eyes wide. She felt a stabbing pain inside her that had nothing to do with the vines.

Failure.

That was all she ever seemed to be in her father’s eyes.

She thought back to her rivals, Helsa and Katie Killjoy. Helsa was a woman with gray skin and octopus tentacles for hair. She had been Charlie’s rival since they were little.

“You and your family are an utter disgrace,” she had said, flaunting her pink fur jacket, dark skirt and high heeled boots. “You’re a naïve fool with such airheaded ideas. How I’d love to see you humiliated and my family reach the top.”

And then there was Katie Killjoy, who was potentially even worse. Homophobic and self-centered, she cared only about her appearance and good ratings on the news.

“You call yourself a princess,” she had scoffed, blowing a cigarette, “but you’re scum, just like everyone else.”

Charlie willed for her memories to go away. Since the beginning, Charlie had felt like an outsider. It wasn’t just because of her friendlier personality in comparison to those around her. It was also due to the fact that she was the only one born in Hell…everyone else had lived past lives on Earth or Heaven.

Lilith stepped forward and destroyed the vines with a wave of her hand. Everyone took shaking breaths and became silent for a moment. Charlie’s horns retracted back into her head, and the flames dwindled and disappeared around her body. Charlie was free and she promptly stomped away, head lowered.

Lucifer spoke in a booming voice that echoed throughout the room. “We will come back to this!”

“Charlotte, do not go outside yet!” Lilith warned before Charlie was out of sight.

Charlie stared out the window into the crimson sky of Hell. Lilith was right to be concerned about the outside world. To Charlie’s horror, the purge was underway. Robotic angels with sinister smiles and red Xs for eyes swooped down and stabbed any demon that they could find. They were immune to demonic magic, as shown when one green eel-like demon tried in vain to push back an angel with his magic. One stab to the eel’s chest brought the monster to the ground, lifeless. In the shadows, one demon with thick dark gray hair like a lion, plucked an abandoned spear from a fallen demon. Another demon in a lab coat took notes on a clipboard. The feline-demon walked with the weapon proudly, considering selling it on the black market for a huge price. Passerby ignored the imp demons who began feasting on the bodied body.

Charlie let out a yelp as something went flying toward her. A bat demon was thrown hard against the window and its body slid down the glass pane before falling. Dark blood was left behind, streams flowing down like thick raindrops. An angel of death slowly turned its head toward Charlie. She gasped in fright, moving out of sight with her back against the wall.

She wished that her girlfriend Vaggie were with her to comfort her. She had met the emo-like, misandrist woman back when they were very young. They were childhood friends whose friendship developed into something deeper. Complementary opposites, Vaggie’s no-nonsense personality kept Charlie grounded in reality…sometimes.

Charlie often wondered…could there be a better place for demons? Heaven was inaccessible and only for the elite and those who met strict qualifications. Hell was overpopulated with people…some were evil for sure…but others just made mistakes.

Those lucky enough to forego Heaven and Hell went to a limbo place where there was dark nothingness…at least that what her father claimed after eavesdropping on humans during his fall to Hell.

Could that really be it? If the angels were to kill everyone, would the victims just cease to exist? Would those formerly lost humans serve no purpose other than suffering in their afterlives?

She tried to imagine what mortals might be feeling. She didn’t know very much, but she figured that they had the same desires as herself.

“Should I really keep going? Should I try to provide more opportunities for the people here? What if I really am a failure?”

It seemed like forever, but eventually, a deathly silence announced that the purge had ended. The numbers below a clock tower read 365 days until the next purge. Charlie slowly walked outside onto a balcony. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the carnage down below.

Among the broken weapons and corpses, “fuck you, heaven!” was written in red on a nearby wall. “Cleanse!” was scribbled on posters of an angel of death. Up in the sky, a lone planet with a pentagram loomed overhead. More signs displayed advertisements, porn, drugs, and drinks. In one area, a figure of a demonic woman in promiscuous clothing posed next to a sign that read “Porn Studios.” In a shadier part of town, large red signs read “punishment,” and “your days are numbered.” A demon with the head of a bull picked up a fallen head from the ground and loaded it into his shopping cart of other heads. Casino signs flashed in the darkness and faint music pounded from strip clubs.

Tears fell freely from Charlie’s yellow eyes. Her long blond hair fluttered in the breeze. She wore a black bow tie, black suspenders, and a white shirt under her pink tuxedo.

Charlie lifted her finger into the air and colorful fireworks boomed in the sky.

Feeling free to express herself, the demon princess sang her lament.

“At the end of the rainbow, there’s happiness

And to find it, how often I’ve tried

But my life is a race

Just a wild goose chase

And my dreams have all been denied”

“A ray of hope in this world of black

I wish the world to be free of sin

But no matter hard I try

I can’t get by

I never seem to win”

“Why have I always been a failure?

What can the reason be?

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like my dreams

Ending in the sky”

“Some fellows look and find the sunshine

I always look and find the rain

Some fellows make a winning sometimes

I never even make the game

Believe me”

“Will this world be a better place?

Or will loss never go away?

The choices I face, me, a disgrace

Loss of hope here to stay”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like my dreams

Ending in the sky”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Waiting to find a little bluebird

In vain.”

Not too far away from Charlie’s location, a slender female demon wearing a black dress, opened up red curtains and watched the fireworks in the sky. Toward the back was an overlord demon wearing a black top hat with a skull on it. His face was stormy gray and his four eyes were yellow. He casually sipped from a red goblet. Behind him was a shadowy figure of a cyclops woman…and Lucifer sitting on a chair, holding his cane.

At Valentino’s Porn Studios, a demon named Vox with a TV head and a woman with dark violet hair posed for a selfie. The woman, Velvet, grinned and checked her phone. Valentino, the head of the company, was elaborately dressed in a fur coat with hearts, wore pink heart-shaped sunglasses and a dark pink top hat. He tapped his clawed finger impatiently as he glanced down at the messages.

Valentino: Did you get my money, Angie baby?

Angel Dust: I’m wittha John now. I don’t get why this needed to happen so soon after the extermination tho. Boss.

Valentino: Just do it. No sass. K sugar.

Angel Dust: Yes, Val.

Down below, a demon with a mane of hair proudly took a discarded weapon and left to sell it on the black market. An emotionless woman in a lab coat walked around with a clipboard, taking notes. Imps with top hats began to feast on the bloodied corpse in the street. Up above, a woman wearing a pink hat with feathers and skulls crossed out the word “Franklin” on the sign “Franklin and Rosie Emporium.”

TURF WARS

The time on the grand clock read 5:07, and down below, the next cleanse would occur in 365 days. A small blue demon fell down to the ground with a yell, a cloud of dust rising in the air. The demon had four arms and large red eyes. He touched his face and body, clearly relieved.

“Oh, I’m alive. I’m alive!” he exclaimed.

Immediately, he was run over by a speeding car, exploding in a flash of blood.

The car stopped on a road, where a Jackpot Hotel and Casino stood in the background.

A tall, white demon walked out of the car and rested his elbow on the top of the door. He slicked back the hair on his head with one of his pink gloved hands. Being a spider demon, he had multiple arms. He wore a black bow tie, tall stiletto boots, and a shirt with pink and white stripes. His irises were pink, the sclera in his left eye dark instead of white. Pink dots resembling small eyes were lined up below his eyes.

“Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff,” said the driver.

The white demon closed the door. “Yeah, yeah, listen. Keep this discreet, hear me? I can’t let it get out I’m offering my services to randos on the street. It was a quick cash grab, ya got that?”

Travis, the dark owl demon scoffed. He wore a black hat and both his eyes were red. One eye had black sclera.

“Whatever you say, slut!” he mocked with a laugh.

The white demon cupped his face dramatically. “Ouch, ooh, such an insult!”

Travis stared nervously, a small heart in his left eye.

The white demon leaned in, showing a mouth full of fangs. “Let me know when you come up with something creative to call me, you sack of poorly packed horse shit.”

He poked Travis in the face with one hand, and grabbed his collar by one of his other hands.

“Tell the missus I said hi,” he added before giving Travis a quick kiss.

“Schnookums. She’s not coming back. Pack of poor…” Travis muttered, rolling up his window and speeding off. The car squealed and flipped over on its side in the air, falling with a loud crash.

The white demon glanced over at a nearby store. A sign advertising a casino with a pack of cards on the front read, “Casino: just a few wins away.” Beside an elevator, was a fridge with an upside down cross on the front. A vending machine with the word “drugs” on it in white letters, caught the demon’s attention. Giddy with excitement, he walked over and glanced down at the options:

Coke

Bojack

McWeedies420

Squip

Hero-in

Krunchy Krokodil

Angel Dust

The demon pressed “Angel Dust” and a white sack fell to the bottom. With a greedy smile, he took it in his hand. Coincidentally, Angel Dust was also his name.

With a yoink, a small gray imp demon snatched the bag from Angel’s hands.

“Hey!” Angel called angrily.

“Up yours, drag show!” he taunted, before being crushed to death by a boulder.

“Oh my god!” Angel cried in terror, racing to the scene.

But it wasn’t the fallen thief he was concerned about.

“My drugs! Damn it!” he cursed, picking up a piece of the sack.

Overhead were neon signs on top of buildings. One in yellow letters read “Begg Slut” and another one in teal: “I couldn’t think of a pun for our shop but we sell hard drugs!”

Angel turned around and spotted a flying metal aircraft, which was firing lasers at buildings. It looked like an industrial rocket ship made with gears and a steampunk style to it. A metal hook hung from the bottom of it. The lasers struck the buildings, which caused bright pink explosions to fill the air.

From inside the ship, a serpent overlord stood high above over the controls, laughing manically. Down below, his deviled egg minions stood and watched. Each of them wore black top hats and pinstriped round clothing. They were called Egg Bois.

The room had deep purple walls, cabinets for the minions and decorations of their leader along the wall.

The overlord was Sir. Pentious. He wore a gray coat with yellow vertical stripes down the front. He had a black tail with yellow stripes and pink eyes all over. He wore a top hat with a moving pink eye and a grinning mouth of fangs. He sprouted a demonic grin of his own, his hood also full of several pink eyes.

Up on the platform, he oriented two levers in his hands, the control button in the center displaying a pentagram design.

“Those other cowardly sinners dare not hinder my territorial takeover! A wise decision. The power of my machines are unmatched! No other demon can compare to the likes of I!”

One egg minion with #23 on his back added, “Gee that was pretty swell boss!”

“Yeah!” another chimed in: #666.

“You really showed them what for!” called a third.

Another minion teasingly ran his fingers up the overlord’s spine. “I like it when you shot them with your ray gun…”

Sir Pentious punched a minion out the window and whirled around in anger. The other minions backed up. “I wish he’d shoot me with his ray gun,” a minion whispered, head lowered.

Sir Pentious rolled his eyes at his masochist minions. He turned back to the controls and grinned. Pentagram circles revealed the areas he had taken over and the other territories ahead. “At this rate, I will seize control of the entire west side of the Pentagram by day’s end!”

He laughed and bragged some more. “And nothing, not a single beast in this inferno of suffering, will be able to take back this empire from my constrictive grasp!”

As to prove his point, he grabbed a minion in his tail and tightly squeezed him.

Another minion blew a noisemaker and then popped open a blue bottle of a brown drink. The overlord threw the minion across the room as the eggs celebrated down below.

“Hell will be mine,” he declared, “and everybody will know the name of Sir Pe…”

“Edgelord!” yelled a voice.

“Pardon?!” Sir Pentious shot back in shock. “Who said that?!”

He leaned in close to two of his minions, not pleased.

“What did you just say to me, you fried chicken fetuses?!”

The minions shook in fear.

“Speak up!” he hissed.

“It wasn’t us, mister boss man!” said a minion.

Just then, an object shot through the glass at the front, creating a small hole. A small pink bomb with a black skull on the front, landed on the floor. Sir Pentious observed it for a moment…the bomb looked like a cherry…which could only mean…

The bomb exploded, covering the room in sparkles and thick red smoke.

Sir Pentious coughed and swiped some of the smoke away.

“You looking for a fight, old man?” a female voice challenged.

Sir Pentious spotted his rival standing proud and casually catching another bomb in her hand: Cherry Bomb.

Towering tall in pink high heel boots, ripped black jeans, a pink crop top with an x on the front, long strawberry blonde hair, a single pink eye with an x that took up most of her white face…a grin of sharp teeth…it was her alright.

“Why don’t you get that tinker toy bullshit off my turf before I smash it…” she declared before catching her bomb. A random barbell of metal crashed into the floor close to Cherri Bomb.

“…more.”

“Oh, you wanna go, missy?” Sir Pentious retorted. He flicked his hood back before opening it. Well, I’m happy to oblige!”

He let out another evil laugh as his minions closed in, holding stun guns, which crackled with yellow electricity.

But Cherri Bomb wasn’t scared. With graceful leaps, she avoided the blasts and threw down another bomb. She used the cover to escape, jumping down and swinging once from the anchor at the bottom of the flying craft. Landing gracefully on the ground, she continued her assault from below.

“Catch me if you can, snake man!”

“Get her!” he bellowed through the red smoke, the eggs quickly running around in a frenzy.

The minions jumped to the ground after her, the overlord following suit. Cherri Bomb dodged a blast, grinned and picked up the minion egg. She spun around and threw the minion straight into Sir Pentious’ face. He threw the egg back at her, and she caught it with one hand.

“Thanks for the gift!” she called out, before cracking the egg open with an evil grin. She placed a bomb into it, then threw it back at him...straight to his face. Sir Pentious could only make a face of surprise before the egg blew up in pink smoke.

“Why you little…”

Cherri Bomb ducked as another egg sailed over her head.

Just then, a familiar drug-addict white demon stomped on an egg minion and threw a grenade in the distance.

“Angel Dust!” called Cherri Bomb, happy to have her partner in crime arrive.

“Great to see you too, sweetie!” he teased.

Another pink explosion filled the air as the fight continued.

“Hey, thanks for the backup, Angie!” Cherri Bomb said as she fired a flaming red arrow with a large gun over toward Sir Pentious.

Angel Dust laughed, leaning against volcanic rock as cover. He threw a grenade over his head.

“You kiddin’? This is the best action I’ve seen in ages!”

A pink explosion rocked the streets.

“Where have you been anyway?” she asked. “I thought you up and died or some shit.”

“I wish,” he remarked as he lit another fuse and handed the bomb to his ally. She threw it forward, then ducked behind the rock next to Angel.

Angel continued, “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some boards are lettin’ me stay rent-free if I play nice.” They covered their ears.

A column of green smoke rose into the air with a fiery whoosh. The duo leaped over the rock and charged at the army of egg minions. Using four arms, Angel Dust fired rapidly from a gun at the minions, making some of them explode.

He sighed, and used one of his hands to gesture. “Y’know, no fights, no pranks, no “problematic language.” Her words, not mine.”

He tripped an unsuspecting minion, sending him into the air and exploding in a yellow yok mess. He waved a spiked club and continued firing his gun. A pot shop stood in the background, with marijuana leaves near the sign.

“These bitches are no fun!” Angel complained in frustration. Splatters of yok landed on his head and face. “I’ve been clean for two weeks!”

“Holy shit!” Cherri Bomb yelled after avoiding a green explosion and leaping into the air.

Angel scooped up yok with his finger. “Well, sorta clean.” He smashed apart another egg minion with his club. “As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder.”

Angel’s shadowy silhouette displayed sharp fangs as Cherri posed in the background, one of her boots missing. A sign read “50% off meth” above a small super market.

A black chain wrapped tightly around Angel’s waist and chest, sending him flying backwards. Cherri Bomb gasped as her ally was pulled away. Sir Pentious threw the chained Angel Dust hard onto the ground a distance away. He landed with a thud against volcanic rock.

“Oh, harder daddy!” Angel teased with a wide smirk.

Sir Pentious gasped, eyes tearing up. “Son?!”

Angel Dust stared blankly, one eye raised, a look of disbelief on his face.

Cherri Bomb rushed into action, landing a sharp kick to Sir Pentious’ back. The villain landed on the ground, then hissed threateningly.

“You whores have no class!” he exclaimed. “In war, the side remembered is the side with the most…style.” He straightened his black bowtie with a spring.

Cherri Bomb broke open an egg and tossed the shells aside. Angel stood up, freeing himself from the chains.

“Or the side that ain’t dead,” she added.

“Speaking of style, is your hat like, alive or something’?

Sir Pentious hissed. “Oh, well, that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?”

Angel continued, “Would that make your hat the top and you the bottom?”

He and Cherri burst into laughter. Even a pink “loser” sign pointed at the oblivious villain. “Ooooh,” said a minion near him. “One hellish burn.”

“I’m going to blow you to bits!” Sir Pentious yelled, pointing at them.

“Hmm! Kinky!” Angel teased.

An advertisement displaying a plate of, sausage, eggs and a tomato slice stood halfway buried in the ground. A glowing pink sign pointing down read “pussy.” Another yellow sign read, “Sex here.”

“I’m not like that! Pervert!” yelled the villain. Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust held in laughter.

Angel suddenly pushed Cherri Bomb out of the way, as an egg minion shot tendrils of claws from behind them. The claws had eyes in the center and grabbed onto Angel’s four wrists. He struggled to free himself, the cords stretching.

Sir Pentious chuckled. “Not so cocky now, are we?”

“Y’know, you really need to watch what’s coming out of your mouth,” Angel remarked. “Cocky…cumming, you get it?”

The villain didn’t respond.

Angel sighed. “I’ve been making these sex jokes the whole time!”

A drill poked out from the ground, Angel avoiding it. A minion held a drill in his small hands at Angel. Two extra arms popped out from Angel’s body, holding his rifle.

“And it’s obvious you ain’t catching on.”

He cocked his gun. “I mean, it’s just sad!”

He jumped into the air, freeing himself and firing the gun. The laser hit Sir Pentious, and his gray top hat fell off.

Cherri Bomb popped up next to Angel. “So, think you’re gonna get into a lot of trouble for this?”

“Eh, what’s one little brawl gonna cause?” He shrugged his shoulders and retracted his extra arms. Sir Pentious lay fuming on the ground.

More egg minions scrambled over to the edge of a high cliff, overlooking the scene. Egg shells and yok puddles littered the cracked street.

Cherri Bomb playfully elbowed Angel. “Glad ya haven’t changed. You know you’re my favorite guy to party with!”

“You know it, sugar tits,” Angel replied.

“You ready to finish this?” she asked. She rolled a bomb from one of her shoulders to her other shoulder, then into her hand.

Angel cocked his gun again. “Born ready, baby!”

The duo charged at Sir Pentious. Everyone yelled. More egg minions fell and Sir Pentious realized he was running out fast.

After several more minutes of battle, Sir Pentious and his remaining minions retreated back to his ship. “This isn’t over, sluts!” he declared at his enemies. “I’ll have my revenge!” The ship hatch closed. The egg minions steered the ship and it rose into the air, almost sending the overlord flying out of the craft. He tossed out more minions in response before taking the controls and flying the craft away.

Angel and Cherri Bomb high-fived.

“See you around,” she said.

“Until the next brawl,” said Angel.

Cherri Bomb waved goodbye and blasted music from an Eye Pod (a device made from an actual moving eye. “Hello, daddy. Hello mom. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Hello world! I’m your wild girl. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!” she sang out loud. Angel Dust laughed and continued on his way.

After buying some more amino and pot from the 666 Shop, Angel met with Charlie and Vaggie in a white monster limo. A great day indeed for the promiscuous demon.

The Happy Hotel Interview

Transcript during the 666 News:

“BREAKING NEWS: A LARGE SCALE TURF WAR IS UNDERWAY IN PENTAGRAM CITY BETWEEN SIR PENTIOUS AND CHERRI BOMB. THE SURROUNDING AREAS ARE COVERED IN DEBRIS, SO PLEASE AVOID DOWNTOWN ON YOUR COMMUTE TODAY. TRAFFIC IS “HELLA” BACKED UP. GET IT? “HELL” BUT WITH AN “A” AT THE END? THAT’S A WORD YOUNGER PEOPLE SEEM TO ENJOY USING. I DON’T REALLY LIKE IT, THOUGH. I WROTE IT BECAUSE IT SEEMED LIKE THE NATURAL KIND OF PUN TO MAKE FOR THIS SITUATION, BUT NOW THAT I SEE IT IN TEXT, I FEEL LIKE IT WAS A MISTAKE, A MISTAKE I CAN’T TAKE BACK…LIKE CHEATING ON MY WIFE. I’M SO SORRY, MARTHA. I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE IT, BUT YOU DID GAIN A LOT OF WEIGHT AFTER THE BABY AND I REALLY NEEDED SOME SPACE. YOU KNOW, WHAT? NO, THAT WAS A GOOD CALL. I BANGED THE CLEANING LADY, AND THAT WAS A PRETTY NICE TIME, EVEN THOUGH SHE LAUGHED AT ME WHEN I TOLD HER I COULDN’T GET OFF UNLESS SHE LICKED MY FOOT FIRST. I DON’T SEE HOW THAT’S A WEIRD REQUEST. MAYBE IF I’D JUST GET A HOOKER, SHE WOULD’VE BEEN MORE AGREEABLE. THE POINT IS, MY WIFE IS A FUCKING BITCH. ONE TIME, WE WENT TO THE ZOO AND I GOT REALLY MAD BECAUSE I THOUGHT THE ORANGUTAN WAS MAKING FUN OF ME. HE KEPT DOING THAT STUPID DUCK LIP FACE? THEIR LIPS ALL PUCKERED? THEN IT STARTED SCREAMING, AND THAT REALLY PISSED ME OFF. MY WIFE TOLD ME IT WAS JUST A MONKEY, AND TO “CALM DOWN.”

A neon logo appeared on the screen, displaying “666 News” in a circle with a neon eye underneath. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

A skeletal demon woman with short blonde hair and a large toothy grin stood wearing a pink dress and a pearl necklace. Sitting at the other chair, dressed in a blue business suit was a demon with a gray gas mask for his face along with short white hair. They were live on the air.

“Good afternoon!” said the woman. “I’m Katie Killjoy.”

“And I’m Tom Trench,” said the man. “Chaos at Pentagram City today as a turf war is raging on the west side between notable king Sir Pentious and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse Cherri Bomb!”

Two pictures surrounded by flame borders showed Sir Pentious wearing a yellow “music band” shirt, doing a peace sign and wearing his top hat as a baseball cap with a dopey expression on his face. The other picture showed Cherri Bomb flipping the bird and standing under glittering spotlights.

“That’s right Tom!” Katie added. “After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!”

The clips showed Sir Pentious fighting Cherri Bomb with his egg minions.

“Those two seem to really be going at it, huh? Looks like they’re fighting tooth and nail for that hot spot!” Katie popped a tooth and a nail into her mouth.

“And I’d sure like to nail her hot spot!” Tom Trench said with a chuckle.

Katie giggled forcefully. “You are a limp dick jackass, Tom. Or should I say…”

Adding insult and injury, she poured her hot coffee over his crotch…

“No dick!”

“Augh! Not again!” he groaned.

Another picture surrounded by a border of flames displayed Charlie with the letters “Princess of Hell” next to it.

Katie continued. “Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of Hell’s own head honcho, who’s here to discuss her brand new passion-project!”

Tom Trench winced in pain on the desk.

“All that and more after the break!”

She broke her mug in her hand, and turned to Tom Trench. “Suck it up you little bi…”

The TV went off air, displaying Katie’s mouth and eyes, colored bars and “off air” with a pentagram in the “O”.

Inside the break room, Vaggie adjusted Charlie’s black bowtie. Nearby, a red tinted sign said that smoking was, indeed, allowed. Another sign read “on air,” in large letters.

“Okay, you remember what to say?” Vaggie asked.

Charlie took a deep breath, enthusiasm in her voice. “Yes! Let’s do this!”

Vaggie put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She signaled with two fingers for her to pay attention. “Just, look at me and I’ll mouth it to you.”

Charlie sighed. “Come on, Vaggie! I know what to say!”

She walked over to the pitcher of red punch. “I just feel like we need to…I don’t know, make things sound more exciting…”

She tossed a donut aside before gasping.

“Oh! What if I…”

“Sing a song about it?” Vaggie finished.

“You knew I was gonna say that.” She playfully tapped her friend on the nose.

Vaggie adjusted Charlie’s bowtie again and shook her shoulders. “Because I know you. But please don’t sing. This is serious.”

Charlie snapped her fingers and briefly winked. “Well, you know, I’m better at expressing myself through song!” She stood on the table and arched her arm dramatically. Down below, Charlie’s doll demons Razzle and Dazzle chewed on donuts.

“But life isn’t a musical, hon,” Vaggie reminded her.

“Fine,” Charlie said with a slump. Then she brightened again.

“But I do have these other ideas of what to say.”

She got off the table and pulled out a piece of paper, hopping excitedly. “The highlighted bits are my favorite parts!”

Vaggie took the paper and scanned it in disbelief. “Uh, it’s all highlighted. Is this a drawing?”

“Yes!” Charlie answered. She pointed to her picture. It showed a list that read: “4, unicorn kisses,” “5, dolphin high-fives?” and “6, sing show tunes = happy ending!” She drew stick figures of demons standing on clouds under a rainbow with a sun and red hearts with faces on them.

“That’s the happy ending, see? Everyone’s smiling and happy in Heaven!”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Vaggie stated. She then begged her: “Just please follow the talking points we went over.”

She pulled Charlie close and stared her directly in the eyes. “And do. Not. Sing.”

Charlie sighed exasperatedly. “Fine.” Then she trotted over and spoke in an accent. “I’ll just have to resort to my impeccable improve skills.” She gave a salute, several moves of her head and went outside.

Vaggie somehow knew that this would not be going well.

Charlie walked over to Katie Killjoy, who posed in her red dress, smoking a cigarette.

“Hi! I’m Charlie.”

She waved and held out her hand.

“Katie Killjoy,” the woman deadpanned before blowing out smoke and snapping her cigarette. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie. You can put that away,” she regarded Charlie’s hand. “I don’t touch the gays. I have standards.”

“Yeah?” Charlie asked nervously, looking at a big flashing sign that read “Hell’s #1 News!” “How’s uh…how’s that working for ya?”

“Look, my time is money, so I’ll keep this short,” Katie cut in. She invasively tapped Charlie’s chest and nose with her finger. “We’re not here because we wanted you here. You’re here because Jeffry couldn’t make it for his cannibal cooking segment.”

Katie mentioned to a billboard that showed a tall man with glasses, short blonde hair with a white chef’s hat, a red apron, red suit, red horns, and a red devil’s tail. He held a platter of poop, skulls, and raw meat in his hands. Above it read “It’s Dahn Good! Cooking show: Guarantee Cannibalicious!” “Who approved this show?” was written on a sticky note tapped to the corner of the advertisement. Tom Trench shook his head in his seat. “Sex! Murder! Weather!” were displayed on a column three smaller signs.

Katie fluffed her hair, swayed her hips, and continued: “You might be some royal bigshot, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m too rich and too influential to give a flying fuck about what some tux-wearing demon “princess” wants to advertise.”

“But I…” Charlie began.

“So don’t get cute with me, honey,” she warned, getting into Charlie’s face, “Or I will fucking bury you!”

“And we’re live!” said a voice.

Katie rushed back into her seat with a bony crack of her neck.

“Welcome back!”

Charlie sat in a chair next to her.

“So, Charlotte…”

“It’s Charlie,” she squeaked.

“Whatever,” Katie dismissed. She took a frustrated breath and clicked her red pen in her hand. “Tell us about this new passion project you’ve been insistently pestering our news station about!”

“Well…” Charlie cleared her throat. She looked nervously at the demonic crew in front of her. Vox, a demon with a TV head, had “words” flashed across the screen in angry red letters. There was a guy with a black top hat for a face, an Egyptian-like female with a white poodle, a woman with teal skin, a demon with glasses and green snake hair, a demon with two thin heads, several red horned demons and a few overlords. Another woman wore a hat with hanging beads and colorful Day of the Dead makeup on her face. Vaggie encouraged her to go on.

Charlie took a deep breath.

“As most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me.”

Katie clicked her pen impatiently. She spotted a green caterpillar and stabbed it with her pen with a predatory grin. Ink splattered on Charlie’s face and around the area.

Charlie continued, wiping off the dark pink ink from her face: “Hell is my home and you are my people. We…”

Vaggie gave her a thumbs up and a smile.

“…we just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. And no one is even given a chance!”

Charlie banged her fist on the desk, waking Katie from a bored drooling daze. A buff demon with horns and four eyes with a skull bull face wore a shirt with the word “crew” on it. An imp with a heart on his forehead stood nearby.

Charlie made her way forward. “I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence! So, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through…redemption?”

Charlie pulled the buff demon into a side hug. “Well, I think yes. So that’s what this project aims to achieve!” She ran back to the desk.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!”

The audience stared in stunned silence. Not even the flesh-eating crickets were chirping through the awkward quiet.

A bloodstained logo “Radio Hack” was displayed above a window which provided a stack of dozens of TVs inside. One demon watching had deer antlers and a flaming blue face, one of the many cruel overlords. Crymini, the 90’s hellhound, stood with a little demon wearing a jester hat upside down. Two hellhound twins stood nearby, one with dyed red hair, the other purple. A neon sign nearby read “Bar” “Klub Kanji,” and “used TVs.”

In a bar, dark demons wearing cowboy hats were playing pool, not even paying attention. The lead demon wore a cloth over his grinning face and had a large barrel gun for an arm. His friend looked like a demonic bug, and another looked like a mustached villain from an old film. Meanwhile in a bar, purple and blue dragon-like demons sat and drank while casually watching the TVs overhead.

Charlie stuttered, “Ya know…’Cause hotels are for people passing through…temporarily…”

A tattooed dark blue reptile demon stood up and let out a loud laugh.

“Is this girl for real? She thinks, you hear what she thinks? She…heh, heh, heh, oh she’s nuts.” The demon walked away with a small lavender creature and a tall maroon being wearing punk rock clothing and crazy neon hair.

Charlie added, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place work toward redemption!” She weakly added, “Yay.”

One demon leaped away as a tall shadowy figure stood in the background…

The figure stood right next to a ratted flier which read “Beware him! Do not fuck with him!” “The Radio Demon” was scrawled in white on demons screaming and fleeing from a monster with antlers overhead.

The man smiled and tilted his head a notch as he watched the TV with curiosity and amusement. His shadow next to him briefly morphed into a shadowy face with antlers on top. He spotted the fliers out of the corner of his red eyes, holding in a laugh.

“Who, me? ‘Obviously’ not! I’d never put on a show and make other demons flee to their graves.”

Just the thought of it got him excited.

He had heard of the demon princess before, but he wasn’t expecting her to appear on TV. He certainly never heard of an idea so crazy before. Making sinners good people was even less likely than making pigs fly (which was one magic trick he could do on occasion).

When Charlie started to sing, the red eyed demon couldn’t help but tap his cloven feet and silently hum along.

“Haven’t been this entertained since I broadcasted my massacre of the ninth circle city. This pretty Charlie character is intriguing…”

Befriending the princess, and doing something different seemed like a good idea. He glanced over at a faraway Happy Hotel building.

He knew where he would go next.

Back at the news station, a cameraman with blue hair and a white face looked up and scoffed, “Stupid bitch.”

Vaggie punched him hard in the face in response, causing him to fall off the chair to the ground.

Charlie stared around her, concerned. “Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do.”

A light bulb went off into her head. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

Vaggie face palmed, knowing what was coming next. “Oh no…”

Charlie snapped her fingers and her bodyguard demons appeared. One sat and began to play a grand piano.

Summoning the Disney princess within her, Charlie belted out her song:

“I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a wonderful, fantastic new hotel

Yes, it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to a specific clientele”

Razzle and Dazzle howled along…

The tempo rapidly picked up…

“Inside of every demon is a rainbow

Inside every sinner is a shiny smile

Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac

Is a jolly, happy cupcake-loving child”

“We can turn around

They’ll be heaven-bound!

With just a little time

Down at the Happy Hotel!”

“So all you junkies, freaks and weirdos

Creepers, fuck-ups, crooks, and zeroes

And the fallen superheroes, help is here!

All of you cretins, sluts and losers

Sexual deviants and boozers

And prescription drug abusers

Need not fear

Forever again

We’ll cure your sin

We’ll make you well

You’ll feel so swell

Right here in Hell at the Happy Hotel!”

“There’ll be no more fire

And no more screams

Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams

And puffy-wuffy clouds

You’re gonna be like, wow!

Once you check in with me!”

“So all your cartoon porn addictions

Vegan rants, psychic predictions

Ancient Roman crucifixions

End right here!”

“All you monsters, thieves and crazies

Cannibals and crying babies

Frothing mouthers full of rabies

Fill with cheer!”

“You’ll be complete!

It’ll be so neat!

Our service can’t be beat!

You’ll be on easy street! (Yes!)

Life will be sweet at the Happy Hotel!

Yeah!”

Throughout the song, Charlie imagined giving a shiny cupcake to a masked killer, holding cotton candy and a brown puppy in her arms in the clouds…avoiding the attacks of every horror movie serial killer… (Music Logic)

She pictured throwing drugs into a bin of fire, giving shots to monsters, giving money to charity, disturbing porn additions with a bra…

Snatching a “My waifu” porn mag of out a demon’s hands…

Throwing away demon’s cell phones…

Knocking over crosses…

Avoiding a scary spider overlord with yellow bat wings and pink eyes all over his body…

Giving demons big hugs…

Charlie emerging in her horned demon form from a flaming pentagram, and jumping with joy in a land full of candy, rainbows, and ice cream.

Charlie finished with a pose on the table, arms in the air and panted.

The top hat demon smiled. “Wow! That was…shit!”

The crowd burst into rancorous laughter and boos, including a blue demon made of fire in the boo section. Katie shrieked and banged her fist on the table.

“What in the nine circle of Hell makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good just…because?”

Charlie lifted up her head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause, and he’s shown incredible progress!”

“Oh?” Katie asked, leaning in, “…and who might that be?”

“Oh just someone named…Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?” asked Tom Trench in disbelief. He subconsciously unzipped his zipper and Katie whirled on him; “You fucking would, Tom!” Her sharp nails left marks on the table.

Katie turned back to Charlie. “In any case, that’s not even an accomplishment. I’m sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube.”

Someone wolf-whistled in the audience.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Charlie argued, holding up her fingers. “He’s been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now.”

“Breaking news!” announced a voice as music came on. Excited, Katie pushed Charlie aside. “We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let’s go to the live feed!”

To Charlie’s sheer horror, Angel Dust was seen on screen, crushing egg shells and fighting with Cherri Bomb.

“Oh shit,” she breathed.

“Oh shit indeed!” exclaimed Katie with a grin. “It looks like the one who has just joined the battle is none other than…”

She let out a dramatic gasp…”porn actor Angel Dust! What a juicy coincidence!”

The screen showed Angel Dust with the words “Angel Dust in ‘Well, Ok’: 18+.”

Satisfied, she turned back to Charlie. “You must feel really stupid right now.” Katie and Tom laughed again.

“Ratings!” Katie and Tom added with jazz hands.

“Don’t look at this!” Charlie called, waving her arms in vain from behind the screen.

“Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival. Tell us, how does it feel to be such a total failure?”

Failure. Failure…Charlie could see her doubt reflected in Katie’s pink eyes and overbearing shadowy figure. Katie and everyone laughed some more, their jeers painful to Charlie’s ears.

“Yeah?” Charlie asked. She snatched up Katie’s red pen and held it triumphantly. “Well, how does it feel that I got your pen, huh? Bitch!”

Katie glared dangerously. Charlie dropped the pen with a nervous smile, “Oops.”

Katie grew taller, her form turning to shadow. Out sprouted claws, four extra sharp appendages, and four red eyes on her face like a spider. She launched herself at Charlie. Charlie pulled her hair and landed punches as the alarm went off in the news room. Katie crawled on the desk in all legs, baring her fangs before Charlie jumped at her and knocked her off the table. Tom Trench got so distressed that his entire body burst into flames.

Charlie ran out of the news room, Katie following her close behind, as everyone yelled.

“And stay out, you retarded dike!” Katie cussed as Charlie made a run for it down the sidewalk. Charlie was tempted to strangle the homophobic, news diva with her bare hands…but that would only contradict her goal…if she even had one anymore.

Vaggie followed her and the two of them didn’t say a word as they waited for their ride. Soon enough, a white limo with a monster mouth on the front of the vehicle rolled to the curb. Vaggie and Charlie climbed in…and so did an ecstatic Angel Dust. The doors closed and they drove off toward the Happy Hotel.

Car Ride to the Hotel

Charlie had never felt so humiliated in her life. She sat in her seat and curled into herself. Once again, her ideas were dismissed, mocked, ridiculed. No one was willing to see the good in themselves. The demons were content to wallow in suffering, violence, and cruelty until the end of their afterlives. Tears were already threatening to spill from her yellow eyes, but she held them in.

Maybe her father was right. What if she really was a failure, like everyone said?

As if reading her mind, Vaggie gave her a small hug next to her. “You’re not a failure, Charlie. It’s just…no one understands your ideas. People think they’re…I don’t know…outlandish?”

She got a sad sigh from Charlie in response. “I just wanted to make things better for my people. I know I don’t feel much like a princess, but at the same time…I feel like it’s my duty…my destiny to being some cheer to this place.”

“Heh. No one can ever top your optimism,” Vaggie mentioned, with a playful roll of her eyes. “Your happiness can be spotted miles away.”

A small smile formed on Charlie’s face. “Well, at least I can pull myself up and keep going…”

Vaggie stared, hopeful…

“…But today isn’t one of those days.”

Vaggie slumped slightly. “I did warn you not to sing.”

“I couldn’t help it,” she countered. “How else was I supposed to get my message across?”

“Not everyone likes singing and music all the time.”

“My family does.”

“But the other demons aren’t your family.”

Charlie stared out the window at the buildings whizzing by. “Sometimes I feel like my family is bigger than just my parents.” She turned to look at her girlfriend. “You’re my best friend, sorta like my older sister…and the only one who seems to get me. You’re part of my family already.”

Vaggie chuckled softly. “Without me, you wouldn’t have lasted very long out in the big world.”

“For once, I agree with you there,” Charlie replied.

During several minutes of silence, the two demon girls locked hands just out of sight. It was their habitual way of showing comfort, and it worked on the many days when Vaggie didn’t want any hugs.

“Don’t get too discouraged,” Vaggie said. “We’ll get back to the hotel and figure things out from there.”

“I kinda feel like singing another lament now.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.”

The limo drove past the 666 Shop, the Nightmare Night Club, and an Evil Donuts store, complete with slime and worms displayed on the donut structure. Pink eyes decorated the ceiling of the car. Charlie curled into herself again, and took a puff of a breath. Even the painted eyes seemed to judge her every move. She glanced over at Vaggie, whose eye was twitching in annoyance.

Angel Dust was busy playing with the button, making the car window go up and down, up and down. He froze when he saw an angry Vaggie staring at him.

“What?” he asked with a shrug.

“What? What?!” Vaggie shouted, pulling out chunks of her long white hair. “What were you doing?!”

Angel sighed. “I owed my girl buddy a solid! Isn’t that a “redeeming quality?” Helping friends with stuff?”

“Not with turf wars that result in territorial genocide!”

“Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred,” he said with a snicker. “It wasn’t that bad anyway.”

He propped up his long legs and pushed the window button again. Vaggie tossed a dagger at the button and it fizzed out in a shower of sparks. Angel stared, shocked and terrified. Vaggie growled in warning.

“Aw come on, I had to!” Angel protested. “My credibility was on the line!” He sighed. “I mean what kind of reputation would I have of people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona.” He lifted up his furry chest.

“Your credibility?” Vaggie asked in anger. “What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like a fucking joke!”

“No, no no, babe. Jokes are funny! I made you look…uh, sad. And pathetic! Uh…oh with progeria!” Charlie covered her face with her hair as Angel blabbered on.

“Great! Now I’m bummed thinking about it! This thing have any liquor?” He bent down to the floor and tossed a bottle aside. He then flicked a wrapper away onto a seat.

Vaggie was fuming. “Can you please just try to take this seriously?”

“Fine, I’ll try. Just don’t get your taco in a twist, baby.”

“Was that you trying to be sexist or racist?”

“Whatever pisses you off more. Is there seriously no liquor in here?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Vaggie swore, crossing her arms and sitting back down.

“Too, late, toots. Wait, would that make me double dead?” He laughed slowly and loudly. “And where exactly do I go to, double Hell?”

He laughed again. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it.”

Vaggie swore in Spanish (“Son of a rabies bitch”)

“Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt?” Angel nonchalantly asked. “Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down there.”

“You’re one to talk,” Vaggie muttered.

Angel laughed then yelled “Hey!” in protest. “This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!”

He pulled out a dirty piece of paper from his enlarged furry chest that read: “Show me your feet! Bryrin. #1 fan/critic.” There was a picture of a young angel in the lap of a naked man, licking Angel with his green tongue. He had a tattoo of Angel with a red crossed out sign.

This time, Charlie spoke up. “That was really uncool, y’know, Angel.”

Vaggie growled and turned to her friend. “Uncool?!” She mentioned to Angel. “After that train-wreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel. All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!”

Angel glanced at a discarded pile of ash and used cigarettes. “Does this mean I don’t get a free room anymore?”

Vaggie spread out her hands as if asking “Well, what do you think?”

He let out a mock sigh. “Ah, well, shucks.”

Charlie pulled off her dark pink shirt, revealing a white shirt with a black bowtie.

“Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Vaggie. It’ll be okay!”

Now it was Vaggie’s turn to let out a small smile of thanks. Charlie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and her friend calmed down.

“What would I do without you?” Vaggie asked. She and Charlie slowly leaned into each other, their heads gently touching.

“Get a room, girls!” Angel remarked, before receiving a “Shut up!” from both of them.

Finally, the deviant crew arrived at the Happy Hotel. It was an elegant building fit for any demon who wanted to stay a few nights. Eye designs lined the border of a dark pink canopy at the front like a creepy mosaic. Branches jutted out from the roof as part of the structure. Old fashioned lanterns attached to the wall had flames flickering inside, nonstop. The double doors consisted of stained glass windows with red apples in the center. Little stained glass snake eyes peered unblinkingly at them from around the larger window in the door.

Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie got out of the car and threw open the double doors. A random black bug scurried away from the incoming light. A yellow sign read “Concierge” behind a pink “welcome” banner. The check in table was decorated with colored flags leaning toward the floor and random balloons with small star shapes on them. A vase was decorated with yellow eyes along the sides. Another flower pot was in the shape of a human mouth…white flowers posed above. Vaggie sighed and plopped onto a red cushioned couch in the style of a monster’s mouth.

The red rug down the hallway was decorated with the same eyeball designs, apples on the end, plus shadow skulls of horned monsters in the center.

All around the room, were pictures of Charlie as a little girl with her father and mother on various trips.

Angel Dust came across a red fridge leaning low against the wall. He opened the door and pulled out a purple box labeled “Popsies.” He shrugged at the dripping ruined box and took out a popsicle. He gave it a lick, talking with his mouth full.

“It’s prolly a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here.” He laughed nervously, trying to cheer Charlie up. But Charlie just sat sadly on a wooden box in a darkened area of the room. Angel closed the fridge door, sucked on a popsicle and reached out one of his arms to her…then hesitated. He walked away, letting her have some alone time.

Charlie walked past the two posing elephant statues balancing balls on their trunks, and toward the front door. She opened the door and went outside. Holding out her purple cell phone, (or “Hell Phone, hah, get it?”) she pressed an icon with the word “Mom” decorated with a heart and horns on the m’s.

Charlie took a deep breath as a voicemail tone came through.

“Hey Mom. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must be busy. Really busy. But, um…the interview didn’t go well and…I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Mom.”

She slid down and sat on the stone ground, tears falling from her eyes. “I think Dad was right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets long. Love you! Bye.”

She ended the call with a tap and rubbed her eyes with her hand. Standing back up, she opened the door, closed it, and leaned against the stained glass window, eyes closed.

Enter Alastor (and Sir Pentious)

A slow ominous knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes. It was a rhythmic knock, sounding like “shave and a haircut.” (Or was it “skunks in a barnyard”, or “imps in a cauldron?” She wasn’t sure.

An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

Unless…

She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door.

He towered over her, wearing dark red dress pants, a red dress shirt along with a dark red pinstriped coat underneath. His shoes were black with red hoof prints on the sides. The two black lines in the center of his dress shirt looked like an upside down cross.

Charlie slowly looked up at his red knotted bowtie, then to his thin gray face. His beaming smile displayed yellow sharp teeth and took up much of his face. On his head were red and black tuffs of hair and fur that resembled deer ears. There were even two small black antlers coming from his head. His sclera and eyes were crimson red, with an oval shaped monocle over his right eye. He carried a magical cane which resembled a vintage microphone.

Charlie’s face morphed into sheer terror, eyes wide as saucers.

Eyes glowing red, the man began to speak.

“Hell…”

She slammed the door in his face.

Opened the door…

“…o.”

Slammed it again.

Alastor stood, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

“Well… that was…rude,” he thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

“Hey, Vaggie?” Charlie called.

“What?” Vaggie replied in annoyance.

Charlie flashed a nervous smile. “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

“What?!” she demanded.

“Uh, who?” Angel asked. He sucked erotically on his popsicle.

“What should I do?” she asked, pulling at her lower eyelids.

“Well, don’t let him in!” said Vaggie.

Charlie was tempted to do just that. But she also had a duty to not leave any sinners behind. She took a breath and opened the door again.

“May I speak now?” the demon asked.

“You may…” Charlie replied.

The man held out his gloved hand. “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

“Excuse my sudden visit,” he went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance! Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!”

He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. “So many orphans!”

Vaggie suddenly pointed a spear weapon at him. “Stop right there!” She swore in Spanish under her breath: “Carbon hijo de perra! (Son of a bitch!) I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!”

Angel peeked around the corner to see what was going on.

Alastor merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

He added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials and radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red.

“No, I’m here because I want to help!” He bowed.

Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

“Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Help!” he responded with another laugh. He held up his microphone staff. “Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded, eye shaking in fear.

“Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

“With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s voice,

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

“I want to help you run it.”

“Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head. Then shoved her aside.

“My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

He laughed again.

Charlie looked downcast. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

“It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners! The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this! He spread out his arms. “There is no undoing what is done!”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

Alastor smirked and looked at Charlie over his shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!” He pulled her close to him with his arm and twirled her around in a quick dance. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

“Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder.

Alastor took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

“Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?” Angel asked Vaggie.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of him before?” Vaggie asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Angel shrugged his shoulders.

“The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?”

“Eh, not big on politics,” he replied.

Vaggie, annoyed, leaned in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power has never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him The Radio Demon. (As lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: He’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we can’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased.”

“Ya done?” Angel asked with a snicker. “He looks like a strawberry pimp!”

“Well, I don’t trust him!” Vaggie argued.

To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” Angel asked with a slight laugh.

Vaggie ignored him and walked up to her friend.

“Charlie, listen to me. You just can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

“I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in white, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

“Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

“Just trust me,” Charlie added placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled inward. Both girls glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

“I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

“Don’t worry, Charlie replied to Vaggie. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…” she spoke in a manly voice, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

“Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

Red Voodoo symbols appeared around Alastor, then vanished.

Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

Alastor twirled his cane and held out his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

Flashes of eerie green light surrounded him, electricity snaking up the walls.

“Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals! I…hmm…”

Charlie decided to try another approach.

“As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?” she asked.

“Fair enough. Cool beans.” Alastor shrugged, walking on and making his cane disappear. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

“Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked.

“Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

He walked over towards Angel.

“And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

“Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

“Your loss,” Angel said with a slight laugh. Alastor summoned his cane.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

The spell came easily in his mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

He snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall.

A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

Alastor walked over and picked up the creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a pink dress with a poodle on the front, her short wide hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced, before dropping her. She landed on her feet.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly and her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

“Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Angel was male, for obvious reasons.

She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie held her spear defensively at her.

“Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

She raced around, removing cobwebs, then poking at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a live blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for Niffty to play with. Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

“So fortunate of me to have met her in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard she died from too much smoke. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give her much of an option to begin with…”

Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

“Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

“Full…whoa!”

“Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

“…the hell?”

As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. Husk was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

“What the fuck is this?”

He saw Alastor and pointed an accusing claw.

“You.”

“Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted. “Glad you could make it!”

Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the white curtains supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

“Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, and swiped Alastor’s hand aside from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

“Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

Husk face palmed. “What the hell do you want with me this time?”

Alastor grabbed hold of him, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

“My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

“No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replied. He casually brushed off his sleeves.

Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

“Maybe.”

Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

“I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

Alastor appeared next to him. “Will I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from his radio staff.

“With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after he let go.

“…this job was made for you!”

Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

“What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle on anger. “Well you can!”

He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

“Too easy,” thought Alastor.

By this time, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…mouth, brothel, man-cave…”

Angel lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

“Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved hands.

He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

“Only if you watch me,” Angel retorted.

To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

“Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

“I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

“So, what do you think?”

Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed.

“It’s okay,” Vaggie said from nearby, arms crossed.

Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!”

Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He pushed Vaggie aside and changed his attire. He now wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and red dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century.

Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

Alastor sang his reprise to Charlie:

“You have a dream

You wish to tell

And it’s so laughable

But hey kid, what the hell! “

Charlie found herself sliding down one of the apple-etched railings, Alastor leading the way. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise.

Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a cute top hat with small flowers.

“‘Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon belle!

Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell

(Take it, boys!)”

Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. Niffty watched in amazement, but not the other three.

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel close again. He rubbed Angel’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. Husk gave him the bird as he left.

Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur to her outfit. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

“Pompous pervert!” Vaggie thought in rage as he wondered away.

Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

“Inside of every demon is a lost cause

But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile!

(With a smile!)

And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool

With some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!

(What’s in style? Oh!)”

He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including a shadowy version of himself, with large antlers and fangs. He made it disappear in a poof, then snuck toward Charlie. He led her in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Charlie blushed when toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance.

“Here below the ground

I’m sure you’re plan is sound!

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him.

Niffty stared in amazement, shouting “Whoo!” before she was blasted backwards, the door hitting her in the face.

Alastor’s spell soon wore off and everyone was back in their regular clothes. Alastor, Husk (still drinking), Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

“Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

“He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

“Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

“Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

“Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

“Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

“Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group. Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

He laughed as he led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

“You could say the kick was right out of Hell!”

He added while laughing at his own joke, “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

Charlie and Niffty smiled while Husk, Angel, and Vaggie looked on with concern. Angel blew Husk a kiss, which earned the druggie demon a glare from the gambler. Charlie turned to Vaggie excitedly. Vaggie reluctantly went along with Charlie’s idea, even giving her a small supporting smile. As long as Charlie was happy, then she was alright, too.

From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.

Alastor continued, “Yes, sir, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

“Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

Back at the crater, smoke took the faces of demons and rose into the air. Broken egg minions littered the ground. One minion rubbed his head. With a shaking arm, Sir Pentious lifted himself up from the gaping hole, fangs shattered.

“Now will you shoot me with your ray gun?” asked the minion.

Sir Pentious face-planted on the ground in response.

#hazbin hotel

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belzinone · 5 years

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// @hunting-songs // cont. // ~<3

Melody Dönes had rented a tiny roofchamber that was in the summers as hot as a Titans melting remainds and in the winters so cold the young woman had to put bricks in the slim cast-iron-stive in one corner which she would then as soon as they were broiling like coles put under the layers and layers of blankets on her bed to keep her shattered bones warm. This day however was one of those blessed days were a summerrain had cooledfrom outside the temperature in her chamber and Melody, cramped between the footboard of her old bed and the even older upright-piano, had spend the whole morning playing the song on the piano that had been the rain pattering on the roof above, the moaning of the wind stroking with featherlight fingers along the townbuildings-walls, and the calm almost Dolce tune of the rainwater washing in gentle waves over the pebbled streets below.It would be still horus until the young woman needed to leave to play in the establishment so her morning was filled with the patter of the rain and her fingers,short and crippled but still nimbly dancing over the pianokeys. Maybe, as her short fingers still swirled over the pianokeys as if held there by a spell, this was the reason why she did not heard the typical song of Bels normal walkingpattern on the damp stones on the street, or in the livingroom of Melodys landlady that was the entrance to the house or on her way up the stairs to the small roofchamber that was the Musicans home. Maybe she also was so caught in the song, still hanging after the orchestra in the rain only she could hear and play along to, that she actually was suprised when the door opned and Bel walked in. She almost flinched when the door creaked loudly and broke through the song she was playing. It was not often that Melody was suprised and whenever she ended up suprised she was eventually more amused by it than startled so she greeted the other woman with a quiet little chuckle and a welcoming smile that fit the very young woman Melody forgot she still was. The space between the bed and the piano was not big, all Melody needed to do was lean back and she would rest her hunchback against the footboard of the bed like against a wall. “Melody! What do you think?! I was inspired by that piece you played last week. You think we can go together??” The other womans voice hopped up a few octaves in her excitement, sweet and young, like a happy childrensong. Automatically Melody tilted her head to the side and listened appreciative, she had never been a person who would complain about the little good things Life was sending her way and having a very beautiful person posing in a just as beautiful costume while her heartbeat sang like a little happy bird, was indeed one of the very good things in life Melody would never even think of complaining about. The young woman was not a blushing virgin, not in the slightest, and she enjoyed beauty with all her senses if she saw it. And Bel was beautiful; beautiful in looks, beautiful in the sweet song that was her voice, beautiful in her movements, beautiful in the impish, almost flirty nature she flaunted. Was the other actually flirting? For once Melody could tell and did not cared, it was not often that she had heard Bels Heartbeat so carefree and excited, without the chains of worry and duty laying around it heavy like steel, so the Musican only leaned against the footboard, her head tilted to the side, enjoying the view as much as the Music only she could hear.

“I have two questions though,” Melody hummed eventually, quiet, to not disturb the song that was the other womand pulse that stroked like gentle fingers around her ears: “How did you got past my Landlady Dörthe without her hunting you away with a broom as she tries with every of my visitors?”, the Musican could still remember the evening she had for the first time brought a woman with her and the very old landlady Dörthe, as thin as a willow but bloodthirsty like a hungry dog and with the iron conviction that people living under her roof had to be ‘decent’ , had caught them as the pair had made their way upstairs. Melody had neither brought men nor women to her chamber again after this encounter. At least not when she had known that Dörthe had been still awake though smuggling the nightly visitor out of the house in the morning had always been as nerve-racking as smuggling them in at night as Dörthe was a old woman and rose with the dawn and even the Titans beyond the walls were not as hunting-feverish after humen as Dörthe with her broom was after Melodys ‘ inproper’ involvements: “And second, do you mean the song “Little wildbird?” Already the Musicans short fingers tapped the tact of the song against the wood of the footboard, nimbly, perfectly in rhythmn: “For if that is the case, I actually have a few very beautiful feathers you could add to your costume.”

She was extremely inspired, slaving over her her needlework like a madwoman and not even relenting as much to tell the visitors at her door to go away. It was her precious day off. Her comrades might have expected her to treat it as anything but (surely, she only had herself to blame for that), but that was before she met the Musician. The Musician that revived her fallen comrades from deep within the iron gated abcesses of her heart. The day she graduated from the Cadet Corps and became a soldier was a false christening. She didn't understand the meaning of the word, what it meant to live and die under a banner, to watch her closest friends live and die under a banner, until she fought for Trost. Her sheltered, nonetheless Underground upbringing did little to prepare her for the nuanced tragedy, the heartbreak of losing her comrades in arms.

Yet the music was what brought her back, the same music that served her only sanctuary amongst the filth, the lawless hellhole she once called home. Bel would have been embarassed to admit that her performances had been based almost solely upon counts of eight, stand-alone technicalities that allowed her to flex her talents without immersing herself into it or dedicating herself fully. It worked alright, as loaded nobles with painfully uptight private lives were more than willing to part with generous amounts of coin to see a scantily clad woman rolling her hips and flexing her core in their faces. Body isolation was an art, articulation was an art, capable of being calculated in her eyes as an empty vessel for tips. Yet like becoming a seasoned soldier, she had long forgotten the meaning of the word until she heard Melody play.

Finally, she learned how to enjoy herself again. Finally, she was granted permission to properly mourn. Finally, she could reclaim the memories and passion she had buried. More than anything in that moment, Bel wanted to honor her new friend's artistry and grew a new set of fangs for everybody and anybody who broke her concentration. Soon as she finished modeling for herself, she threw on a cloak and beelined straight down the street, knocking a junior soldier or two off balance on the way and raising more than a few eyebrows.

"Your landlord? That was easy. She just let me in. Is she really that scary?" If there was one thing that could throw her off her one track mind, it was freshly baked bread. The bakery on the corner skid her heels to a halt and she picked up a few rolls to bring to Melody's as a gift. The medic swung the bundle from her coat and offered the open haul to her, the sweet, fresh aroma quickly filling her loft from wall to wall. Perhaps the landlady too had a soft spot for her, just as Melody had. "Ok I lied," she snorted, "It wasn't my proudest moment. When the wings didn't work, I offered her bread, and when the bread didn't work, I begged and-" With a free hand, she lifted a mass of curls to reveal a rapidly purpling bruise. "MAN can that woman swing a BROOM," she laughed, then laughed some more recalling a popular antic of her Captain and his squad members, "What is she, your mother?" A small fit of cackling followed her slight wincing, remembering how tightly her own mother kept her under wraps in her youth. "But yeah! Little Wildbird! It's so cute and upbeat and I LOVE IT!"

Her eyes then blinked rapidly, racking her seemingly absent mind for traces of something that should've been so obvious. Preoccupied with getting the right colors, she'd forgotten the most basic accessories she could use to invoke the inspiration of a BIRD. "Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't think of that! It took so long getting the colors bright and vivid and the number of times I pricked my finger..." If it didn't concern machinery, design wasn't her strong suit. Nonetheless, it was something she found she really enjoyed. Perhaps she'd spend more time on her lost craft now that she'd rediscovered her passion.

"Where do you think they should go?" she asked, finally removing her cloak and neatly hanging it in the most suitable place in the room, "Off the wraps? Hip scarf, maybe? I'm gonna need your help, because I came straight here after I finished it and didn't bring an extra set of clothes to change into." Another snicker. "I got excited~ ... ... ... and am barely starting to feel this bruise... ow..."

#// your writings so beautiful and you always go so hame shuuhuu i hope i can keep upppppp!!#DEPARTING THE CONCRETE CRIB . medical officer // main verse #hunting-songs #// ok this ended up long as hell so ima have mercy on the dash gbsbfjsgj

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firstfullmoon · 9 months

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LaTanya McQueen, “Before It All Came Tumbling Down”

#not to worry this did not make me feel insane in the slightest 👍 its all good I’m perfectly fine 👍#w #lit #if you will grant me one vivid morning I can chain it to me for fifty years

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tocxmply-archive · 5 years

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“what happened to you at the factory?” — @captmrca —

gentle touch has him FLINCHING, in a manner not so well concealed, and perhaps this is what prompts the question; vivid blue meeting blue-grey for an instant, before gaze is brought back to the ground. a ground hard and cold and not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, of course... no soldier expects pleasantries after enlisting, and yet to see and hear and feel what war truly is about, face to face --- it’s an indescribable experience. one he’d believed Steve to be saved from, for once in a lifetime grateful for the frail body that would keep his best friend ---his soulmate--- well away from the explosions of grenades and the sickening noise of a head bursting open through a bullet and canned food that tastes more like vomit. evidently, Steven Grant Rogers goes and tilts the world on its axis.

a smart idea to change the topic of conversation with, as is. what happened to you? even right now, even safely seated on an improvised sleeping bag, even with the tender hand that is occupied cleaning the bruises on his face [yes, the same hand that had him nearly jumping in place, and almost triggered him into reciting name + rank + number all over again]... even now, he can’t wholly bring himself to believe what his eyes see. asking his exhausted, malnourished, sleep-deprived mind if he’s yet s̢t͝ra̧p̛p̀e͏d̨ to t͞hąt ͠e̢xṕeri͜ḿe͏ņt̨ation bench̡ and hallucinating the entire thing --- that Steve coming to rescue him from impending death, now in a body that would put any comics superhero to shame, is no more than a fever dream.

‘ you’re not real, ‘

it escapes bruised, chapped lips --- in a murmur, barely audible; as though trying to convince himself, for there is nothing more dangerous than a sense of false hope. not even those grenades. not even whatever it is that Arnim Zola pumped his vein full with. therefore... if it’s not real, it doesn’t matter what he says, right? it doesn’t matter if he tells hallucination-Steve EVERYTHING, because all of this will be gone in the morning? but, then again... if this turns out to be real, and it turns out the world has gone mental in the span of a couple months --- if there’s anyone he’ll ever trust with everything, isn’t it Steve? real Steve? James Buchanan Barnes happens to be VERY PROUD, there’s no denying, and has grown so used to being the protector that showing vulnerability doesn’t come spontaneously anymore --- not after their parents passed away and there’s the girls to raise and care for, not after sweet Mrs. Rogers has gone to a better place as well. and maybe this is what encourages him to carry on, after all... because, if there is someone who deserves his earnest fears rather than a bravado of crumbling confidence, this someone stands before him. or sits besides him, anyway --- by now using a wet cloth to clean the matted, dried blood from his ear, just as gently.

‘ they had--- this weapon... dunno what it was, ‘ voice still faint, but louder; wishing to be heard by real-Steve, not just hallucination-Steve. ‘ a sort of--- canon...? that just disintegrated anything it touched. anyone--- ‘ and it’s funny, because then everything grows BLURRY. Bucky pauses to ponder, but he cannot reach it --- there’s himself and his men standing on that hillside, helpless as they watch the HYDRA reinforcements arriving --- and then, immediately, there’s himself in the cell. no in between, no coherent chain of events. with a deep inhale, he resumes nonetheless --- praying that it will make at least a shred of sense, enough for Steve to follow along. ‘ they made us work for ‘em... can’t remember what it was. the guys were there too, we were--- we had a sort of assembly line... but i wasn’t there for long. ‘

and, oh, this is where everything started and ended --- because staying there was the easy part; hours upon hours of slave work, a torrent of insults and humiliation, the physical abuse, the inhuman conditions of sleep and food and rest --- all of this was the easy part. THE NIGHTMARE began as soon as he was pulled away from it. fingers now begin absently playing with each other, nervously, but he does look up at Steve --- the blond's features so healthy and determined, which puts on Bucky’s face a ̢bri̷ef sm͏i̷le tḩa͜t ̸i͘s u̢t̢t͜er͠ly̴ ͟ou̕t ̡of̴ ͢pl̸a̷cę,͝ given the nature of the upcoming words. as though the body is here, scarred and injured but functional, yet the soul lies somewhere else. ‘ my cell--- it wasn’t really a cell, it was... a room? a white room, with bright lights... always people in there, in white coats--- there was a lot of white. ‘

and, again, an abrupt cut --- none of those persons had a face, and they spoke a language he couldn’t understand; some German, here and there, but most of it were sounds he couldn’t make sense of. ‘ there was a--- a chair... ‘ oh god. that chair. ‘ i was--- they put me on the chair... here--- ‘ hand comes up, gesturing vaguely around the left side of his face --- mimicking the pattern of the bruises left there, which in turn mark the places where THE METAL CONTRAPTION has been so roughly pressed on. but, ironically... it stops there; again, it freezes and ends with no previous warning. ‘ dunno what it was for... ‘ ironic, that the procedure was so brutal it left no trace in his memory; a pain so intense he was unable to process it and, therefore, now unable to recall how it ever consumed him --- only the bruises tell that tale. ‘ he shot something in me--- Dr. Zola... dunno what it was. it burned like hell--- ‘ sounds like a suitable overarching notion: hell; a hell he’s escaped by miracle, a hell he prays he’ll n͜͝é͡v̀͞e͘҉r̶̕̕ ŕ͘͠e̶͟t̶ur͢n͏̛ ̢͟ţ̛͡o.͠͞ ̷͜h̷e͜ ́ẃ̷͟on̡’̵̛͡t.̴͟ ͠h̸͞ę ͜wò̷n̴͢͟’͘t̢́.̶͘

‘ it was hell, Steve... ‘

#captmrca #ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ★ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵛᵉˡᵛᵉᵗ; ᵃᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ'ˢ ˢᵐᶤˡᵉ #...i did not intend for this to get so out of hand #and so long #and so angsty feelsy #I'M SORRY I HAD A LOT OF EMOTIONS OKAY #...i just have a lot of post-factory feels #always

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sweettoothshipperrotg · 5 years

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Arranged Marriage... SweetTooth AU?? :3

Well, this is what happens when I allow the plot bunnies (pun fully intended) to hold me hostage: y’all end up with a thirteen page fic. (sorry?)

Kinda long disclaimer: My brain setted this during victorian times in England, more specifically in the 1840′s London. Bunny is an army lieutenant that had been assigned to the British colonies of New South Wales (aka Australia), Toothiana is a princess from one of the many Indian states that were under indirect british rule (she still held her title as maharani but could not kick the dudes out of her region). Although I did as much research as I could to inform myself and provide argument for the fic, I apologize if you feel that I was disrespectful/misinformed in the way I depicted the characters and circumstances here. It was not my intention and I would appreciate if you can offer constructive criticism so I can improve. What I DID do is try to keep it as ambiguous as possible so although it does not directly mention anyone in particular, the idea still remains (don’t go around colonizing countries an being an asshat to people)

A/N: Whenever you see boldened and cursive text it’s because the characters are speaking a different language apart from regular English.

Ok, I’m done, I promise. ^^;

Hope you like it!

“I have been eagerly awaiting the day I could finallymeet you…and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.”

The words that came from her fiancé’s mouth would havesent any other young girl’s heart aflutter. To Toothiana…they felt completelyhollow.

Every fiber of her soul was begging her to turn back,ran to the closest port, and sneak onto a ship that would take her far awayfrom here and closer to her beloved country. Yet she remained rooted on herspot.

The atmosphere was charged with tension, silence stretchingand making everything worse.

All eyes were on both of them, sizing, judging, and losingno detail of the interaction among the betrothed couple.

Their dark clothes and pretentious faces wereunnerving to say the least.

They thought themselves above her and her people.Fools, the lot of them.

Toothiana kept her head held high. The people who hadaccompanied her and her younger sister had instructed her on how she wassupposed to curtsy and handle herself when she met her fiancé. She refused togrant him said honor.

She was the heir to the throne of Punjam Hy Loo,daughter of Haroom and Queen Rashmi. She bowed to those worthy of it.

Her disruption of protocol sent tongues wagging; awave of poorly concealed whispers filled the room.

The man in front of her seemed to tower above most ofthe attendees. His bright red uniform and medals pinned to his chest, proof ofhis prowess in battle, seemed obnoxiously loud and reminded her of howdifferent and apart they truly were. Of how men sporting the same uniform hadinvaded her country and taken by force what didn’t belong to them.

To look at him, to think of why she had to do this wasmaking her sick.

She had been taken away from her home with courteoussmiles and polite words that did nothing to hide how the invaders held all thecards and they had no quarrel with twisting her arm into submitting to theirwishes.

So they had shipped off across the ocean, away fromthe deep colors of the green jungles she loved so much, from the colorful lifeof her city, and from the comfort of being among her people.

She dearly missed the sun kissed bedroom she had grownup in, the morning chants and prayers of the devotees inside the temples, theair full of spices and the perfume of the flowers in bloom.

The trip had been horrific. Storms and rough seas madeher fear that she would die in the middle of the vast ocean without theappropriate rites, her soul becoming chained to the sea and not be allowed totranscend to the beyond and see her parents.

On those nights where it almost seemed that the shipwould capsize at any moment, she held tight to her baby sister (a merelythirteen year old girl who had tragically been roped into this voyage due tosharing the same lineage) and allowed a few rogue tears to trickle down her face.

The only comfort had been the kind young man thatstationed himself outside her cabin to make the sisters feel more secure,promising to keep them safe at all costs.

Jackson Overland Frost had been a true blessing duringher long journey, joining her at the port before they departed and using hiswits and charm to win her over. He had offered his services to accompany her,serve as her interpreter, and to help her navigate this new culture full ofstrange and different aspects.

He had proven a good, amicable companion. Since he wasthe only one who spoke to her in her language, it had initiated an almostinstant bond between them.

He treated her and her sister with the upmost respectand saw them as equals.

Although he did not share the same nationality as herfiancé, he had provided as a diplomatic envoy between countries and had quicklybecome friends with him.

In fact, Jack had provided her with far moreinformation about her intended than any member of her escorts.

Toothiana did not know much of Lord Bunnymund. He wasthe sole heir of his family’s titles at his 26 years of age, had ascended tothe rank of lieutenant during his military service but had been eventuallydischarged from the army (the reason of said discharge had not been explainedto her).

“How is he? Tell me about his real colors”,she had asked him while gazing at the miniature with the rendition of the manshe was to marry.

“Bunny? Well, he’s real annoying, realgrumpy, and really full of himself!” He said with a playful smile thathad made her little sister burst into laughter. “But in all seriousness, I havenever met a stronger, more honorable man than the likes of him. Truly, the lastof his kind.”

She was not able to get any more meaningfulinformation out of him. Any other pertinent details, he proclaimed, she wouldhave to ask the man himself.

Right now, Toothiana wished she had extricated moreinformation from Jack.

The small painting had not made him justice, of thatshe was certain.

Despite belonging to the upper class, his face did nothave the softness or paleness of noblemen his age. His features knew themerciless lash of the wind and the unforgiving rays of the sun, making himstand out from the sea of faces that seemed to quake at the mention of notbeing as white as snow.

His hands looked rougher than those of the pamperednoblemen.

The voice that had greeted her had sent a shiver downher spine: deep, calming, kind, instead of the monotonous plummy ones she hadheard since the beginning of her journey. It was the type of voice that shewouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of her days.

However, his eyes were the most striking of his attributes,two orbs of vivid green that sucked the air out of her lungs when she firstlooked at them.

Despite how pleasing he was on the eyes, she wasdetermined to not budge an inch.

They wanted to make her dance to their tune? Fine.

But she would be the one to mark the tempo.

“And I hope that you do not prove asconceited and vain as the rest of your countrymen”, she retorted with asweet smirk. Even if no one but Jack and her sister could understand her, shewas content with her words.

Jack snorted at her comment, barely covering hislaughter and trying to pass it as a fit of cough.

Although it was only for a moment, she could swear shesaw her fiancé smiling at her display of spirit.

His fiancé was nothing like he had expected.

The ones that had arranged their union had granted himlittle information about her.

Whatever he received should be taken with a grain ofsalt, anyways.

Their derisive remarks and snide commentaries againsther being a foreigner and from a different culture got on his nerves.

He hated this place.

Aster was certain of this once he had been forced toleave his post at the army and practically dragged back to his country to sitdown and submit to orders like a good puppet.

He had been received with a scowl by the ones sittingatop of the political playfield.

And, stars above, the almost unending procession fromone minister’s office to another just to receive the same lecture from stuffyold men with no idea of how real life was beyond their very noses, almost droveBunnymund mad.

They had no qualm of gloating about how lucky he was to not have been executedfor his seditious actions against the crown.

What did they knew of his motives? Absolutely nothing.

They had never gone hungry a day of their lives. Theyknew not of sore muscles and tired bodies after strenuous hours of labor underthe sun. They feared not the crack of the whip, nor the unkind treatment of strangersthat had no roots to their lands.

While stationed as an officer, he had tried to breakpeace between the locals and his countrymen. But the latter refused to give anyquarter to what they considered belonged to them.

The moment that he was demanded to comply withatrocities like the ones they had ordered of him had been the straw that brokethe camel’s back.

Bunnymund had taken action against those who commandedhim. Slowly and discreetly, he had aided local insurgent factions, providingresources, information and even shelter to those who were on the run.

Unfortunately, he was caught without any means ofescape.

The first month that he stayed in prison had beentesting.

His once fellow officers now treated him like thelowliest of criminals, spitting insults whenever they passed him by.

The beatings and punishments were administered withardent fervor.

When the infection had settled in, he truly thought hewould die in that filthy cell and not even be given a proper grave.

Those days spent at the camp’s infirmary – confined tohis bed not only by the fever but by the manacles to prevent any chance ofescape, and being look down by the doctors and nurses that kept him alive – hadcrawled by agonizing slow.

Illness decided not to kill him, and back to the cellhe went.

He was careless enough to lose track of the time hespent there, only when he was released he found out that his confinement had lasteda year and 3 months.

Out of nowhere, he was presented to the commander ofthe camp and informed that his family had pulled enough strings for him to besent back to his country to be dealt with by higher authorities. He was givenhonorable discharge of the army and was forbidden to return, the disdain in theofficer oozing from every word.

And throughout this horrid experience, Bunnymund hadnever uttered a word. He had not complained, nor begged, nor retracted from hisactions. It was a waste of time to try to convince them.

He was placed on the next ship back to his countryunder heavy scrutiny of two officers who had been assigned to police him thewhole trip. They did not engage with him, but the surly looks they gave himwere a dead giveaway of their opinion of him.

When the ship finally docked, he was not greeted byany better circumstances.

He had only seen his parents once. His father had donewhat he did best and berated and screamed at him, telling him what adisappointment he was to the family name.

His mother had stayed behind her husband, a silentlook of disapproval battling with the sorrow of seeing her only son in such aregretful state.

They had not allowed him to see his sister.

Days flew by. Although it was nothing compared to hisprevious accommodations, the room he was confined in told him that his ordealwas far from over.

He had been escorted to a fancy chamber, where theminister of foreign affairs was waiting for him with a reproving look and a litpipe that wafted its acrid smell all over the room.

That’s when his future purpose was laid in front ofhim.

He was to marry a princess from a small region of acountry he had never had the opportunity to see for himself.

She was the heir to the throne and her influenceweighted a lot on the hold his country had over hers.

There had been several rebel uprisings on neighboringregions and, if the princess allied herself with said insurgents, his countrywould lose an important trade point and area of influence.

They simply could not let it happen. And since theprincess and her sister were both too valuable to kill and yet too dangerous toallow to act freely, they had decided to extract her and ship her away so shecould not play her hand against them.

The diplomats had found the perfect excuse, too. Arebel war lord had threatened her throne, fully intending to kill her and takeover the region. Under a poorly disguised attempt to “guarantee her security”,they had taken her and her sister away and were on their way here.

In order to bind her to his country, they were forcingher to marry a complete stranger.

Since he had fallen from grace, he would pay his dueby playing said role. And the minister made it quite clear that Bunnymund hadno say on the matter.

He had dreaded their meeting since the man informedhim on their imposed betrothal.

What did she look like? Any description of women fromher country had not been favorable – the opinion of men who claimed to haveseen them not proper for polite society –, but Aster knew better than to trustthose pompous bigots.

What would she think of him? Arranged marriages werenot uncommon in their times but it felt like there was an ocean between themwith how different they were.

Would they get along? It almost seemed impossible thatthey would be able to find common ground.

But to his surprise, princess Toothiana had turned outto be quite a remarkable personality (at least to his standards).

Their first encounter was full of tension and statelyprotocol. The latter she broke with a confident smile on her face, clearlyletting all those haughty toffs she would not be intimidated by them.

Although he couldn’t understand her, judging by what ahard time Jack had had to try to conceal his laughter Aster knew the womanstanding before him had more fire within her than any other.

She had refused the dresses they had provided her with–thankfully, because Aster thought her own clothes made her absolutelybreathtaking, any intention of putting her into something more restraining andstifling a disservice to her person–, as well as stubbornly stuck to speakingin her own language . He liked how her rich voice traveled through the room,the unknown words twisting and wrapping around him in a pleasant sensation.

Although she had never made any acknowledgement of thefact, Bunnymund knew princess Toothiana could understand his language. Thespark of understanding gave her away, despite how everyone else considered herand her sister as uncivilized and inferior creatures.

She couldn’t have easily traversed among the wolvesthat surrounded her had she not been a bright and confident woman.

Even though they had not spent much time together, hedid find himself thinking of her: her warm smile when talking or watching overher sister –which reminded him so much of his own–, her bubbly and melodiclaugh when she and Jack shared a secret joke, even the grace she carriedherself with.

Her entrancing eyes followed him around and he couldnot deny the effect her beauty had on him.

But it was more than just that. Her strength anddetermination had quickly casted a deep sense of admiration within him.

She had left everything behind and was facing thisabysmal uncertainty head on.

He truly felt grateful to be by her side, especiallywhen she managed to irritate diplomats and nobles the way she did. And despiteenjoying what an interesting woman she was, he knew there was a whole lot moreto find out.

His fiancé definitely was a mystery, but one he didn’tmind to unravel.

Their wedding came sooner than expected.

Suddenly, Bunnymund found his garments a tadconstricting around his throat. His reflection stared back at him paler than hewished.

He was not ready for this.

Meanwhile, Jack was leaning back against his chair andhaving the time of his life. He had a smirk hanging from his lips and a glassof strong liquor on one hand, claiming that just because Bunny was going towaste such a fine kind of liquid courage didn’t mean he had to.

The young man had always liked to crack jests at hisexpense, which got them into extensive verbal banter. His carefree naturelacked the discipline and method the military service had instilled into Bunnymund.

Bunny found it rather amusing that despite not likingeach other in the beginning they had ended up friends.

It was good to have him around, a friendly face amongthe sea of pampered halfwits who were attending.

Several diplomats and ministers were there to gloat atwhat a good idea had been to match two of the empire’s greatest headaches.

Aster’s family was nowhere to be present. His fatherand mother had been outraged at the news he was marrying a foreigner theyconsidered beneath their status.

His only regret is that he hadn’t been able toproperly talk to his sister. Not even his letters had been answered, probablyintercepted by his father and now serving as tinder for the study’s chimney.

Luckily, Jack had stayed by his side, refusing todepart until his friend was in more stable grounds.

Aster could only imagine how his fiancé might bedealing with the situation from her end.

The wide open windows didn’t feel like they wereletting any air in. The walls were starting to close in on him.

He needed to leave the room, he needed to move.

Without any further explanation he was out the doorand into the corridor before it all became too overwhelming.

A sliver of light from a door slightly ajar caught hisattention.

Peering in, he was surprised when he saw his futurewife and sister in law sitting by the window sill.

The princess was no longer using her colorful clothes.She had been forced into a white wedding dress that constricted her movementsand truly did not complement her dark skin the way her usual garments did.

Although she did look beautiful and any woman from hiscountry would have been raving at the soft satin fabric and the delicate pearlsand crystals embroidered into the dress, it was clear to see that this was notwhat she wanted.

She had had no say in any of the wedding arrangementsand no one had been sympathetic enough to try to make her more comfortable.

His fingers brushed something small that had beenburning the inside of his pocket since Jack had handed it to him (his quips atbeing tired with being an errand boy due to Aster’s house arrest ignored) andwatched the two sisters, wishing he knew what they were saying.

“Our parents would be proud of what a strongwoman you are”, the younger girl commented while trying to put a bravefront for her sister.

“I think they would be proud of the both ofus”, Toothiana cupped her face and stroke her cheek with her thumb. “Youhave been through so much because of me, but I’m glad I have you with me.”

These words filled the young princess’s eyes withtears. She had been doing her best not to cry, to try to be strong and carryher family’s name with dignity. But everything had been possible thanks toToothiana.

A deep sense of fear took over her at the idea ofbeing sent away from her or that her sister’s husband would not allow them tostay together.

“I won’t feel brave if they take you awayfrom me. I don’t want to be alone.” She couldn’t keep her voice fromquivering; tears threatening to break lose in any moment.

Toothiana pulled her close to her chest and squeezedtight, almost to make sure that what remained of her family was truly there.Tears started to form in her eyes. “Do not worry, little sister. I will notallow anyone to separate us.”

They remained like that for a few moments, wishingthat the clock would stop counting down the seconds.

Eventually they separate.

“Why don’t you go with Jack for a while andask him to tell you about sledding through the snow again?”, Toothianasuggested, knowing the young man always managed to cheer her little sister up.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I want some time on my own before I have togo.”

The girl smiled and nodded, quickly exiting the roomin search for the fair haired boy that had swiftly had become their friend duringthese testing times.

Toothiana would have to thank him for being so kindand staying until everything had settled down – although she was certain thathe was also hoping to catch a particular black-haired girl’s attention before allwedding celebrations were over. She didn’t know much about Emily JanePitchiner, but knew that her friend would never fall for a shallow woman andthe girl seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders.

If Jack had chosen her, she was bound to be special.

The memory of the pair made Toothiana focus on theview before her, thinking at the same time of her own parents and how in lovethey had been.

Nothing of these was related to love. Not even asingle aspect of her wedding was truly hers.

In her home her engagement and wedding would have beenone of the greatest events of the region.

Suitable men would have been called from far and wideto attend the ceremony where she would choose her own husband. There would havebeen exchange of gifts, prayers at the temples, celebrations.

She would have used a beautiful red dress and adorned herselfwith jewelry and flowers, like other brides from her culture.

She would have her family and friends join her groomand her in the joyful yet solemn occasion, clapping and cheering when thenewlyweds exchanged garland as a symbol of acceptance.

There would have been demure side glances, nervouslaughter at being caught watching, a rush of excitement while holding hands.

Toothiana forced herself to cast away those images,looking down at her hand and tracing the delicate and intricate traces of hennathat her sister had painstakingly drawn onto her hands.

It had been the only aspect of her culture they hadmanaged to have, mainly because the sister had done it at night when everyonewas asleep and then it was too late to do anything about it. The princessesrelished on how the maids and instructors assigned to them fussed on howuntoward it was.

A choked sob escaped from her throat and tears rolleddown her cheeks before Toothiana could hold them back. She made no movement towipe them away.

She had been hiding her emotions to both not givethose bastards the satisfaction and to not worry her little sister. But now shewas alone, she could allow herself to cry a little.

The door slowly creaked open and she turned aroundexpecting her sister or even one of the annoying ladies that had done nothingbut pester and nag at her.

She quietly gasped when she saw Bunnymund lingering atthe door, as if considering if he should pursue this course of action.

Turning around, Toothiana wiped away her tears and triedto swallow down the feeling of embarrassment at someone seeing her crying.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered courteously, sounding a tadashamed. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you, princess.”

She gave him no answer.

“I know that you wished not for this union.” Bunnymundcleared his throat. “And I would not do you a disservice by saying that this isthe way I wanted my marriage to unfold.”

Well, at least they were being honest.

“But…”, he paused to gather strength. “Despite thecircumstances, we find ourselves together in uncharted territory. I know nothow to be a good husband and I’m sure that Jack has made you aware of my manyflaws.”

Toothiana smiled, wanting to turn around and poke funat him about the fact that no matter how much they bickered, Jack had a trueappreciation of him as a friend. Yet she remained quiet.

“We may not know much about each other. But in whatlittle time we have had, I have realized that I’ve never met a braver, more strong-willed,and kinder woman I would wish to marry.” He slowly and carefully approachedher, letting her know he meant her no threat or harm.

Her heartbeat accelerated the way it always did whenhe looked at her with those green eyes of his.

Despite her cautiousness around him but she hadmanaged to see that he was nothing like the noblemen from this country.

He had always been gentleman towards her and hersister, his presence making her feel safer. Whenever they sat with Jack andinteracted he showed true interest in what she had to say, curiously askingquestions and wanting to know more about her and her country.

And, through enough persuasion, she had found out ofwhy he had been discharged from the army and forced to come back to hishomeland.

Jack had only explained the general details, insistingthat it was better for her to hear it from Bunnymund himself, but she wasgrateful that now she knew what an outstanding man her future husband was.

Toothiana had found something she never imagined shewould find in him: kindred of spirit. Despite the differences, they shared alot in common. Their passions and ideals did not clash with the other’s, butthey burned brightly with the same intensity.

She was starting to want to know more about him.

“What I’m trying to say is…you’re not alone,princess.” He stared at her with meaningful intensity. “I promise I will carefor you and protect you to the best of my ability, til death do we part.”

Aster kneeled down while pulling a small box from hispocket and offering it to her.

Uncertain, she took it and cautiously opened.

Tears prickled at her eyes and a wave of emotion swepther as she stared at a delicate necklace with black beads on the chain and agolden pendant.

A tradition among her people was that the groom wassupposed to tie it around her neck, recognizing her as a married woman.

“Jack told me that it was customary in your countryfor the groom to gift these to the bride.”

Silence stretched as Toothiana took the necklace toadmire it in its full splendor.

Noticing the lack of verbal response and the way hisfiancé was crying, an instant feeling of panic gripped at him. Had he offendedher? Had he ruined an important custom from her country? Had Jack lead himalong just to make him look like a fool?

“I… I apologize if I have offended you, princess. It wasnot my intention to…” His face started to feel redder by the second as hespluttered.

She chuckled and shook her head to let him know hisfears were unfounded, a couple of tears still trailing down her face due tobeing moved by such a sweet gesture.

He took that as a good sign. Standing up he extendedhis hand towards the piece of jewelry. “May I?”

Her beautiful smile when she nodded made his heartskip a beat, while he inched closer so he could put the necklace on her.

It felt strangely intimate (yet not unwelcomingly so).They had never been so close, and thus never felt the heat radiating from theother’s body.

Toothiana could finally appreciate the finer detailsof his features, while Aster was finally able to let her perfume tickle theback of his nose.

Once he was satisfied with how it looked he slightlystepped to fully gaze at the enchanting woman, now looking even lovelier withthe smile that graced her lips.

He was as bold as to take her hands in his, but wasrelieved when she didn’t pull away.

“From now on, you are my path, and I choose you.”

Toothiana couldn’t be happier that they agreed.

*****

THE END, my lovelies!

Also, three cheers for Jack being such a good bro

I hope you liked it and that my writing did justice to the topics that were depicted here. See you soon and don’t hesitate to send me prompts! :D

P.S.:

I add bellow the links that I used as reference/inspiration to write this piece:

https://www.britannica.com/event/Indian-Mutiny

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/victorians/indian_rebellion_01.shtml

http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/empire/g2/cs2/background.htm

https://australianstogether.org.au/discover/australian-history/colonisation/

http://cbhsyearfivehistory.weebly.com/aboriginal-lifestyle-after-british-colonisation.html

http://www.britishempire.me.uk/page102.html

https://museumsvictoria.com.au/longform/journeys-to-australia/

https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/12/01/10-things-you-should-know-about-slavery-australia

https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/history/australia-has-a-history-of-aboriginal-slavery

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/australia-needs-to-own-up-to-its-slave-history-20150427-1muhg3.html

https://www.quora.com/In-Ancient-India-a-woman-chose-her-husband-in-Swayamvar-true-or-false

https://www.manhattanbride.com/insights/indian/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swayamvara

https://www.kuberbox.com/blog/mangalsutra-different-states-india/

#sweettooth #bunnymundxtooth #bunnymundxtoothiana #bunnymund #toothiana #rise of the guardians #ROTG

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mortaljin · 6 years

Text

Meadows Part One

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: uh there’s a couple curse words, mentions of emotional abuse and attempted physical abuse.(The abuse is very vague and I do not go into detail whatsoever) Genre: Angst and some fluff. Fairy!au Pairing: Hoseok x female reader.

Summary: You plant flowers because there is no consequence to accidentally killing one, that’s why you don’t have a pet. Your life becomes a lot more stressful one day, however, when you barter for an exotic flower seed at your local market place. No matter what you do, it won’t grow. The old woman who gave it to you gave you no instructions, other than adequate water and sunlight, on how to care for the flower. You were about to give up, ready to smash the flower pot to smithereens, when the softest, faintest voice begs you not to. You were just hearing things, right? It’s not like the voice came from the seed, right?

A/N: Hello, I hope you guys like this first installment. There will probably only be two parts, with a potential for an epilogue. I wanted to post something tonight, and the plot idea running through my brain for this fic wouldn’t allow me to finish it any time soon. Enjoy!! Edit: Reposted this because I made a few changes (Not to plot, just format)

Masterlist

March

The smell of your makeshift balcony garden wafted through the open sliding door and filled your entire apartment with the floral scent. When guests came over, they were always pleasantly surprised to see such a well-kept flower garden on an apartment balcony. Granted, your balcony was fairly larger than most apartments, but a garden of this magnitude is rarely seen on one. Today you could be found, once again, trimming the stems and leaves of flowers that needed to be pampered and pruned. As a small child, you were always fascinated with the idea of growing flowers; the dandelions in your front yard always signaled a season of good times, and you wanted to be able to recreate that with more extravagant flowers. People often questioned your love and dedication to something as minute as flowers, and often wondered why you didn't get a pet. You would jokingly answer saying that it's not the end of the world if you kill a flower, but there was always truth behind the playfulness. The idea of taking care of an animal terrified you, and instead of running the risk of being a horrible animal owner, you opted for the simplicity of taking care of the less sentient species of life.

You were on a mission today. Your garden had always been an unorganized array of vivid color, and that has never bothered you until you woke up this morning, itching for the opportunity to organize something, anything. The original plan was just to move the pots around a bit, but you got carried away with the upkeep of taking care of the flowers. As you stood hovered above the foliage-filled trash can, your eyes caught sight of a magnet on your fridge. It was a handmade rainbow magnet that one of your younger cousins had made for you. You admired the bright colors, and your heart began to buzz with warmth in your chest. Looking down at the Sweet Peas in your hand, you noticed that the purple of them matched almost exactly to the purple of the rainbow magnet. Instantly, a new idea formed in your head.

"I'll arrange my porch like a rainbow!" Your overly excited squeal had you face-palm and you laughed at your zeal for gardening. It wasn't that hard to arrange the flowers, and the fact that your balcony was slightly rounded made it look even more like a rainbow. Shifting the pots color by color, you actually had a small section left for a few more flower pots when you were done. Looking over your organized masterpiece, you realized something crucial was missing. I don't have any yellow flowers! The thought screamed through your head and you were slightly annoyed that your rainbow balcony was missing a color, a primary of all things. You looked at the clock and realizing you still had the entirety of your Sunday left, you headed out towards a marketplace to find a damned yellow flower.

Passing by the different flower kiosks, you were quickly greeted by many of their owners. It was no secret in this small town that you adored flowers, and you were probably one of, if not the most, regular customer. Although you were good at keeping flowers healthy and growing, you still had to be mindful of how much work and dedication it would cost you. The large box you had brought with you was already full of a few flowers; you had picked up some premature snapdragons, daffodils, and lugilarias, and was excited to tend to these little babies over the summer. At first, you thought the three would suffice, and so by the time you had scaled the entire marketplace, or so you thought, you were ready to head home. As you crossed diagonally through the area, you noticed out of the corner of your eye a little old woman sitting at a small table. Well she's new to the marketplace, you thought, seeing as you had never seen her, or her kiosk here before. You weren't sure what it was, but something about this mysterious new seller had caught your attention and was almost calling you to her table. Upon approaching the table, you weren't exactly sure what it was she was selling. There were bowls of different sizes, filled with beads of sorts.

"Um what exactly-" but she cut you off with a laugh and a gummy grin that was missing a few teeth.

"Seeds my dear! Flower seeds to be exact!" Your heart almost gave way to her explanation, and you found yourself inching closer to the bowls. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that she was telling the truth. After having planted enough flowers, you knew that some of them were for some flowers you've already grown. You walked along the little table, eyeing each bowl carefully. At the end of the table were three bowls colored red, blue, and yellow, and inside each one was a singular seed. "Ah, I knew those would catch your eye."

"Well, you do only have one of each. What kind of flower seeds are they? I don't think I've ever seen any like this."

"That's because they're not from here, deary!" You raised a quizzical brow to her statement, and she laughed again at your skepticism. "Don't worry, they will grow here, and just about anywhere. Just don't move to the Antarctic, or to the Sahara Desert for that matter either."

"You won't tell me what kind of flower will grow from them?" She just shook her head, saying something about there being no fun in knowing what they will be. Part of you wanted to leave, but the other part of you, the one with the love for gardening, was intrigued by the idea of having a unique flower in your garden.

You eyed the three bowls carefully, and for a moment it reminded you of when you were younger and had to choose between starter Pokémon. The red bowl contained a dark seed, it was small, and was perfectly round. In the next bowl over was a white seed, shaped like a lopsided heart, and was decently sized. Finally, in the yellow bowl was an extremely large bulb, and you instantly realized you wouldn't choose this one due to the likelihood of it being a common tulip. You pondered between the red and blue bowls for an eternity. The black seed was as mysterious as this random seed seller, and it was almost alluring. The white seed, however, looked so unique and you knew it would bloom into an exotic flower. If these flowers bloom anyways.

"Which one do you think I should choose? I don't have any idea what kind of flower they will bloom into and how to take care of them!" You sounded a little bit more exasperated than you should've been, but the box of flowers still in your arms was starting to grow heavy. She shrugged and held out a coin towards you.

"Flip a coin and let the Fates decide for you!" You had to feign kindness and prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. Setting the box on the ground, you quickly grabbed the coin from her frail hand.

"Okay then," you muttered under your breath, "heads is the black seed I guess?" She continued to stare at you as you flipped the coin in the air, and you held your breath. You caught the coin and slapped it over onto the back of your hand, revealing the head side of the coin. You glanced at the black seed, and for the briefest second a feeling of disappointment washed over you. Shaking your head at the women, you made your choice.

"I want the white seed, I don't think the Fates knew what I wanted."

"Perhaps then that it is part of your fate to choose part of your own path." She gave you a soft smile as she carefully wrapped the seed in wrapping paper and placed it in a little box. It's a seed, a little bag would have sufficed.

"Oh! How much do I owe you for the seed? I hope it's not terribly expensive!" You began reaching for your wallet inside your purse when she stopped you.

"Don't worry dear, I don't sell these for cash. I'm a traveling woman and I like to collect things from places, trading as I go. That's why I've collected these odd seeds."

"Oh, uh I don't think I have anything worth trading for such a special seed, I'm sorry." She lifted a bony finger towards your neck implying she was interested in your necklace. Immediately your hand flew to the pendant hanging from the chain. Your chest swelled, and your throat felt tighter within an instant. This was a gift from your boyfriend, well, now ex-boyfriend. The two of you broke up almost four months ago after catching him cheating on you. The relationship was not healthy, to begin with, and although you are much safer and well off by being apart, you were still clinging to the image of how good he was at the beginning of your two-year relationship.

"Sometimes you have to let go of what hurts to get to what heals you." Her soft whisper of words left you stunned, and for a minute you wondered if she had just read your mind. Your hands began to shake as you reached around your neck to unclasp the necklace. Once removed, your hand hesitated for a second before releasing the burden into her hand. Her eyes twinkled as she gave you that big toothless grin again, and you felt yourself automatically reciprocating it. You bid her farewell and picking up your box of flowers, you made your trek back home, your new possession safely in your purse.

"Wait! How do I take care of-" After a few moments of walking away, you abruptly turned on your heels to ask her how much water and sunlight the flower needed, if she even knew? When you turned around though, the woman was already gone, as well as her makeshift kiosk. It was almost as if she had vanished into thin air. That was certainly a strange experience.

Thankfully the ordeal with the mysterious seed seller in the marketplace only transpired over the course of twenty minutes, so your afternoon of gardening was still open. You made haste in placing your new yellow flowers in their respective section of your floral rainbow and went to find a pot and dirt for the new seed. As you removed the white seed from the box, a little piece a paper fluttered to the ground. You picked it up and turned it over in your hand to read the little note that was written on it: I need lots of sunlight, and an average amount of water, but don't drown me! I can't wait for you to meet me! You weren't exactly sure when the woman had written the note, but it was cute and made you a little bit more excited to grow the flower. You placed it in a pot, and again you cringed. This little pot was one your ex-boyfriend had gotten you for valentine's day last year, and if you had any other pot you would have smashed this one to pieces. I'll have to find a new one later. The seed was packed into the pot, watered, and placed into the sun. You weren't sure how successful your green thumb would prove to be this time, but your heart thumped at the new adventure.

April.

It had been two weeks since you bought the mysterious seed at the marketplace, and there has been no sign that it was blooming. You thought that perhaps it was getting too much sunlight, so you moved it into the shade for a few more hours a day. After nothing else, you decided to experiment with the water. You increased the amount of water, the water intervals, and even the type of water. No change you made seemed to do anything to make life sprout from the pot. Feeling defeated that morning when you woke up, you didn't even bother to water the pot before heading off to start your long day of events, and almost forgot to water it before you went to bed that same night.

It was nearly midnight when you finally stepped out onto your balcony, checking one last time on your other flowers. Standing in front of your lifeless flower pot, a wave of melancholic emotions washed over you. As of an hour ago, it had been exactly four months since you left your cheating ex-boyfriend. Staring at your flowers, you realized your passion for gardening only came from the need to distract yourself. You had poured yourself into two years of a toxic relationship, and you realized that at least flowers could show their appreciation by growing. The tears began to stream down your face as sobs racked through your chest, and you weren't sure how long it was that you had been standing there, tears dripping into the pot of soil. With a hiccup and a wipe of your sleeve, you were able to see through your slightly blurry eyes and you stared down at the pot. Like a child, you stomped your foot in frustration. Anger at the world was being released and you started to pick up the pot. You were ready to hurl it over your balcony, but the faintest, softest whisper entered your left ear and you stopped in your tracks.

"Please don't break the pot, I'm growing I promise!" The voice was quiet and you spun around to see where it was coming from. Nothing or no one could be seen around you. It's just my imagination. I'm exhausted and upset. I'm just hallucinating and hearing things, you thought this to yourself with a laugh. Had you not imagined the pot's plea for help, you still would've felt bad for tossing the pot. You made a mental note to get a new pot so you actually could smash this one. Shutting the sliding door, you gave once last glance to the empty balcony and made your way to your room to attempt a good night's rest.

With the spring sun shining directly onto your balcony, you were able to get work done without feeling the slightest chill. It had been two days since your meltdown over the empty pot, and you were finally getting around to replacing it with a new one. The one you had bought was completely unlike the other plain terra-cotta pots that you had collected over the years; this one was black with a shiny coat. There was a cheesy quote calligraphed on one side that reads "every flower is a soul blossoming in nature," and you found it too cute to not purchase. When you began to re-pot the seed, you almost dropped it in excitement to see that roots actually had started to sprout from it. You quickly switched its home and placed it back into its spot on the balcony. A sense of accomplishment came to you as you realized you had made another conscious effort to heal from your ex, and you picked up the old pot, finally ready to rid yourself of it.

"Oh my god, I was wondering if you were ever going to put me in a new pot!" The voice from two nights ago appeared again, but this time it startled you because you knew you weren't just hearing things. In your fright, you managed to drop the pot, the terra-cotta shards flying all over the balcony. "Well, I didn't think you would actually smash that pot, but good going!"

"What the hell? Who's saying that?" The question came out as an assertive scream, yet you were trembling with fear. You glanced fervently around you, and still, there was no one to be found.

"Uh, I'm right behind you?" The voice said this, and his tone made it seem like it was obvious.

You held your breath as you slowly turned on the spot, and you almost fainted at the sight before you. Standing on your railing was a man. Well not actually a man, he was about six inches tall, but it still looked like a man. Quickly you pinched yourself to wake up from the dream you were having. To no avail, the six-inch man was still there. You stepped forward slightly, and with squinting eyes, you noticed something behind him. Those are wings, you gasped again at the realization, warranting a slap in your face. The winged creature rolled his eyes and jumped from the balcony to fly in front of your face. You blinked slowly for a few seconds before you finally found the ability to speak again.

"What the hell are you?" It came out as a whisper but the creature heard you nonetheless. He fluttered in circles above your head before coming to sit on your shoulder. This caused you to visibly stiffen, and he left again when he noticed your discomfort.

"I'm a fairy, obviously!" You wanted to laugh at him thinking the answer was obvious but you were still in shock. "Specifically, I'm a fairy for that flower right there!" He pointed at the repotted plant, and you noticed that something had started to burst through the soil. "I couldn't grow properly because that pot was filled with too much evil. Thank you for changing it for me!" You just nodded your head as the gears in your brain started turning in overtime.

"I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming. Fairies aren't real." You repeated this over and over again before you felt something poke your nose. The fairy-thing in front of you seemed to be flicking your nose, but it didn't have much power behind it.

"Of course, they are! Fairy flowers don't grow near human settlements, so I'm confused how you got a hold of that seed. I'm glad you've been watering me properly, although you almost overdid it the other day." At the mention of water, your eyes darted towards the full glass on the table. His eyes met yours, and with realization as to your next move, his face filled with horror. You quickly grabbed the glass and stood by the pot. "Please don't dump that in the pot, you already watered me this morning!"

But you didn't listen. You slowly poured the water into the pot as you kept your gaze on the fairy. As the water landed in the pot, you could see the fairy's wings start to wilt and he had to struggle to keep himself afloat in the air. You dumped the rest of the glass into the pot and the fairy landed on the ground with a silent thud. You walked over to the fairy, and you picked him up, noticing that he looked sick and he was soaking wet. Reality hit you like a freight train and you finally accepted that he was telling the truth and that he was, indeed, a fairy. You began to panic as you looked at his state.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry what do I do? I didn't think you would actually be affected!"

"Sunlight" was all he could croak out, and you rushed to bring both him and the potted plant to the hottest part of the balcony. For ten minutes you stood in silent shock, staring at the fairy in front of you, basking miserably in the sunlight.

"You're awful you know that, right?" You were pulled out of your bubble of thought at the fairy's statement. You sat next at the table and leaned forward slightly to be face to face with the fairy that had sat up from his spot in the sun.

"I'm sorry, okay? Something like you can't show up out of nowhere and not expect me to do something drastic to prove it!" You hung your head in your hands, both in disbelief and in apology as to what had happened. "Are you okay though?"

"Oh, me? Yeah, I'm fine, just don't water me until tomorrow night please." You nodded your head at his request and curiosity began to bubble inside of you.

"What's your name?" The question seemed simple enough, yet he rose his eyebrows at you anyways. "Do fairies even have names?"

"A fairy makes contact with a human for the first time in decades, and your first question is what my name is?" Again, you nodded your head, and the fairy chuckled. "My name is Hoseok, what's yours?"

"I'm Y/N. Next question, why didn't I see you the other night when you told me not to break the pot?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, I wasn't big enough for you to see me." You tilted your head in confusion and he continued. "The more you take care of the flower, the more I grow. Once the flower is fully grown, I'll be normal sized, like you. Or taller, or shorter. I'm not sure where you stand on the average height scale." You felt as though your neck would be sore tomorrow from all the nodding you were doing.

"Okay, sounds legit." The two of you sat in awkward silence for a few seconds as you tried to work through the list of questions you had for him. He broke the silence with a question that caught you off guard.

"Y/N, why was that flower pot filled with so much hate?" You stared at the remains of the shattered pot, and you had to choke down the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Oh well, um." You thought carefully of the words you were going to choose. Not many people knew about the bad side of your relationship with your ex, and you weren't sure how to tell it to a member of the supernatural. "It was a gift from someone. This person became increasingly awful and destructive to me, and I think when I would garden and use that pot, I poured my hatred for this person into it." You sniffled slightly and quickly ran your hand over your eyes to remove any tears that were threatening to fall. "That person is out of my life though, that's why I wanted to smash the pot."

"You were upset because this evil person is gone?" Hoseok looked stunned at his assumption, and you smiled gently and waved it off.

"No, I think I was upset that I let them harm me like that in the first place." A look of sympathy washed over Hoseok's face, and the little fairy hugged your hand in comfort.

"I'm glad that they're not hurting you anymore."

"So, uh, what do you do now?" You quickly changed the subject to ask the real question at hand. "I mean, will you be living on my porch?"

"Well, not necessarily. I can go and fly away and do as I please, but I have to stay in the general vicinity of the flower. Which brings me to ask you. Where did you get that flower?"

"I got it from a random lady selling flower seeds at a street market." The nonchalant shrug made Hoseok furrow his brows, wondering how that would have even been possible.

"Strange. Well, I don't actually know what I'm supposed to do. These flowers are near my village, so I didn't have to worry about going anywhere to do anything. I'm not even sure where I am." You quickly explained what part of the world you were living in, and the two of you discussed the different landscapes and flora found in each other's worlds.

During the conversation, you learned many things about Hoseok, and fairies in general. You had asked the question about what happens when the flower dies, and you wondered if that meant the fairy attached to it would die as well. Initially, Hoseok had told you no, that the fairies don't die when the flower wilts. The fairy flowers still followed the course of nature like normal flowers did, blooming with one season, and dying with the next. They also followed the course of nature when it came to reblooming the following year; the seeds dropped to the ground and waited patiently for the next season to bloom. This confused you, what happens to the fairies while they wait for the next season to bloom? When a flower wilts, the fairy's body disappears with it, the life energy gets put back into the new seed. When the next season's flower blooms, they start over again, starting small and gradually working their way up to normal size.

"Wait, so you guys just keep getting reincarnated forever?" Supernatural things seemed plausible, they had to be, obviously, but immortality did not.

"No, we aren't completely immortal. At some point in the distant future, I will reach my last cycle of reincarnation and be gone forever, the next flower to bloom will contain a newborn fairy ready to repeat the same cycle I did."

"You're the same fairy every time your flower reincarnates?" This was all getting a little too confusing.

"Pretty much, let me put it into simpler terms. A fairy is born, and looks just like a baby, right? Fairies exist almost like humans do, except not having to have human food as substance. The baby fairy lives out its first season, only growing to the size of how a normal nine-month human baby would look." He paused to make sure you were still following along, and you urged him to continue. "Well, when it's time to be reincarnated, the baby comes back as a super tiny version of how he was before his cycle ended. Then the baby grows normally and starts to look like an eighteen-month-old baby. Gets reincarnated as a tiny eighteen-month-old, then grows into a baby who is over a year and a half old. So on and so forth. It's like how humans grow and get older, but with a short break in between. Make sense?" You wrapped the explanation around your mind, and you understood what he had said, but none of this made any sense. How did you manage to find a magic flower?

"Mostly. So what age would you be then?" This was something you weren't sure about. He looked like a miniature adult at the very least.

"Well, this is my twenty-fourth cycle, making me the equivalent of a twenty-four-year-old human. When the flower fully blooms, you won't even be able to tell I'm a fairy! Except for when you see my wings." There was a pause. "You are going to continue growing the flower, right?" His eyes filled with worry for a moment, and you patted him on the head with a few of your fingers.

"Well of course, how stupid would I be to let a magical flower wilt on purpose?" You laughed at your joke, and Hoesok smiled at you. "Anyways, this is kind of a lot to take in and I need a nap. Will you stay out here, or would you want to come inside?"

"I'll stay out here, it's fine." You bid him farewell and went back inside your apartment. The nap waiting for you was calling for you, but not before you stopped for a glass of wine in your kitchen to help you wrap your mind around the newfound knowledge.

Your nap had been going perfectly. You had a dream that you could remember for the first time in weeks; you were in a meadow filled with beautiful spring flowers of all kinds, some you recognized and some you didn't. The sun was shining and people were prancing and galloping through the flora all around you. Suddenly, a horrible high-pitched noise rang through the meadow, causing everyone to run away in terror. You opened your eyes when the dream had ended, rolling over to find that the noise was coming from your cell phone. You glanced at the unknown number for a moment, debating on whether to answer it or not.

"If it's important, they'll leave a voicemail or call again." You sighed heavily and closed your eyes again, wanting to continue the peaceful vision in your head. Your eyes shot open and you grunted heavily as your phone once again began to ring from the unknown number. "Hello?" you groggily asked after you pressed the receive button and held the phone up to your ear.

"Y/N?" It was a man's voice that you heard from the other end of the call, and you didn't think you recognized it.

"This is her. Who am I speaking to?"

"It's me, Jackson, can't you recognize my voice?" You lurched forward into a sitting position as you did begin to realize the familiar voice. "Are you busy today?"

"Why does that matter, Jackson?" The reply came out like a hiss, but you didn't care. He had no right to be questioning your whereabouts.

"Don't be like that, Y/N. I just wanted to catch up with you."

"I don't care, goodbye." You angrily ended the phone-call, and your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. Without even thinking about it, you stormed off to your balcony in hopes to find something to calm your green thumb. Opening the sliding door, you realized that you had never bothered to clean up the pot that had fallen earlier that morning. You glanced around, but there was no sign of your new fairy friend. Most people didn't think it would be possible to put passion into sweeping, but you certainly were able to.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" You grumbled to yourself. "Wanting to ‘catch up,' more like wanting to kiss ass is what it sounds like to me."

"Who wants to kiss ass?" Hoseok had just flown over the railing to the balcony before he asked you this, and he had sat himself on your shoulder.

"My ex-boyfriend. I haven't had any contact with him in two months, and he wakes me up from my nap, and for what? To tell me he wants to see me?" You scoffed as you swept the last of the terra-cotta shards into the dustpan. With Hoseok still on your shoulder, you made your way to the garbage can in the kitchen to dispose of the broken pot.

"Did you tell him to leave you alone?" Hoseok's tone seemed very serious when he asked you this, and you grabbed him from your shoulder to place him on the counter facing you.

"Yeah, I did, I told him I didn't care about-" Your rant was cut off by a few raps at your front door. You began to walk towards it before you remembered the fairy that showed up this morning. "Uh, Hoseok?"

"I know, I'm hiding." The little fairy flew off down the hallway, seeing as you had shut the sliding door, and you wondered if it would be easy to find him when you were done with your visitor. You brushed down the wrinkles in your shirt and ran a hand through your hair in the hopes of laying down some of the frizz that had sprung up. You gently opened your front door and the person standing on the other side almost made your heart stop in despair.

"Y/N, wait!" Jackson, of all people, had shown up unannounced and was requesting to be let in. "I just need to talk to you!"

"And why would you need to do that, huh?" Your voice was harsh, and you could see him wince at the tone. "Last time I checked, you have another girl to talk to." Once again you tried to push the door closed, but he was too strong. He did not force himself in, however, despite the fact that you knew he was capable of doing so.

"I left her, weeks ago." The seriousness in his voice let you know that he was telling the truth, and finally, you relented on the door and let him step inside, but no further than the little rug in front of it. "Y/N please hear me out. I can't live without you. I don't know what I was thinking when I cheated on you. I wish I could blame it on being under the influence of something, but I can't. I was stupid to think that anyone could love me better than you can." His heartfelt confession had brought you to tears, and for a moment you wanted to run into the warmth of his arms. Instead, you straightened your back and lifted your chin.

"I'm sorry Jackson, but I can't." Your words had come out barely above a whisper despite your attempt at feigning confidence.

"Please forgive me, Y/N, I truly am sorry for what I did." Even he had tears threatening to fall, but still, you held strong despite how badly your heart was aching.

"Jackson," you stepped closer to him and looked him directly in the eye, "I forgave you a while back. You need to forgive yourself too." At this confession, he rushed forward to embrace you, but you held a hand to stop him. "I forgive you, and that's it. We both know we're not meant for each other, nor is our relationship a healthy one. Move on, Jackson, that's what I'm trying to do." The shift in his expression made it seem as though a switch inside of him had been flipped. In one swift movement, Jackson had you pinned against the wall and was screaming obscenities in your face.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't want to be with me? You think there's anyone else who's gonna give a shit about you?" The verbal abuse continued as he made derogatory comments about anything and everything about you. When you refused to make any attempt at a reply, his frustration had reached his peak and reared his hand back to slap you.

"Leave." You had managed to catch his hand before it made contact, and the fact that you stood up him for once had him stunned into silence. "I said leave, and do it right now. I will call the police if you don't." The flames in his eyes continued to dance as he stared at you before he pulled away from you.

"Fine, bitch, but you're gonna regret this when you die alone." That was the last thing you heard from him before he stalked out your front door, slamming it behind him. The momentum from the slam caused one of the small picture frames nearby to fall from its place in the wall. Before it was able to hit the ground, little Hoseok had come flying in to save it. He flew it back up to its place and hung it on the hook before turning to stare at your shaking form. Not knowing what to say, he used all of his strength to pull you by the hand to your couch. You sat there for a few minutes, the tears piling in your eyes, but you refused to sob over that evil man any longer.

"Was that the evil man that left you?" Hoseok was the first one to break the silence and you continued to sit there for a few more beats before he asked another question. "Was he always like that?"

"No, he-" your reply got caught in your throat, so you coughed slightly and restarted. "He wasn't always like this, at one point he was very kind and treated me like a princess. A year into our relationship, he started to change. At first, I thought it was stress causing his mood swings, but then he began to verbally attack me; he made comments on my weight, my looks, and other things that made me insecure." The first tear fell. "There were multiple instances, although not very many, where he would grab me and shake me, or push me around. I always had bruises on my arms." A slight stream began cascading from your eyes. "I never th-thought that h-he would tr-try to h-hit me!" Your stuttering sentence had come out in the form of loud, body shaking sobs. You were a mess, and you were aware of the sight you must have made for your new friend, but you were too shaken up to care. In the midst of your wailing, Hoseok had flown to your side and was making circles in the air above your head. Red flecks of sparkling dust began to rain down on top of you, and within seconds you felt your heart beat calm, and your breathing become steadier. After five minutes, you were completely relaxed although slightly stunned at what had just occurred.

"Do you feel better now?" You nodded your head yes in reply.

"What did you just do? I didn't know you could also do magic!" You felt like a little girl with how excited this thought made you.

"It's not necessarily magic. I can't do many things apart from healing people in various ways. I don't have an unlimited supply of it either, I can only dish out what I'm given." You questioningly raised a brow to him. "The happiness and joy I get from other people are what fuels my ‘magic' as you like to call it. No offense, but you've been fairly gloomy for a while." He smirked as he joked, and you couldn't help but giggle as well. You felt yourself calm down to normal, and you were able to continue on with your housework filled day. Hoseok had made the rounds with you, and you found yourself slipping into easy conversation while you did mundane things like dishes, or mopping, or dusting.

"Hoseok, uh, do you think you could you could take this rag and get the dust off the fan blades?"

"What do I look like, your personal fairy maid?" At first, his tone looked as though you had offended him, but then he broke character and erupted into laughter. You fell into a laughing fit with him. He took the rag from your hand, and flew his way to the ceiling fan, causing dust to rain down.

"Hobi, stop it! I don't want to vacuum again!" You shrieked as he continued to let the piles of dust fall down, and you could have sworn you saw him grow an inch at the use of your new nickname for him.

May.

Three weeks. All it took was three weeks of proper water, plenty of sunlight, and all the love that you could put into your green thumbs. Three weeks since Hoseok's first appearance and the flower had completely bloomed. Every morning up to this moment, you would wake up to a slightly taller Hoseok rapping softly on your window to let you know that he was thirsty. This morning, however, there was no knock against your window, and you were concerned that something might've happened. Upon further inspection into your apartment, you found Hoseok in the guest bathroom. Once he had become tall enough to reach the door handle, you opted to leave it unlocked so that he could come and go as he pleased. It was almost scary how human he could seem. As you stood in the doorway of the bathroom, you could tell Hoseok hadn't noticed your presence yet and so you silently admired him. He was most definitely checking himself out in the mirror; he was turning his head every which way, and he was pressing his fingers into every part of his body. His beautiful red hair was full of volume and rested perfectly against his forehead. Cheeks were aglow with life, and you couldn't help but trail your eyes down to his lips. They looked soft and plump, not a single dry spot to be seen in them. His eyes were sparkling, and your heart began to thud in your chest as you saw the way they shined. You took in his height; he seemed to be quite a bit taller this morning than he was last night, and you gulped when you saw how lean and fit he looked. To top off the heart problems you were gradually gaining, Hoseok had shifted his clothes, the ones you gave him once he was tall enough to fit them, and revealed a portion of his alarmingly toned abdomen. You quickly darted back to your room and the sigh that came from your lips was extremely vulgar. With a few pats on your cheeks, you felt as though you were closer to being calm enough to face him.

"Y/N?" a voice came from the bathroom you had just passed, and your heart thudded once more when you heard it sounded just a pitch deeper today. You backtracked your steps and met Hoseok in the bathroom.

"Y-yes?" Good one. He's so going to know that you're nervous.

"Look!" He held up his arms and twirled around in a circle. "I'm fully grown!" The heart palpitations you experienced this morning made sense now that you knew Hoseok was in all of his whimsical beauty.

"That's wonderful!" You couldn't help but grin at his excitement. "Wait, does this mean the flower is fully bloomed?" He nodded his head to you, and without a second thought, you were running to the balcony. An audible gasp filled the air as you took in the beauty of the singular flower in the middle of the black pot. The flower was every bit of exotic that you had imagined it to be; with twenty-four petals of a brilliant fire red and perfectly petite leaves, there was no doubt in your mind that this was a flower that could only be found in dreams.

"Huh, that's strange." Hoseok had snuck up behind you, and it seemed as though he was contemplating something. "Twenty-four petals seem weird. I liked it best when it only had twenty."

"Do you get another petal after each reincarnation?" You had turned to face him when you spoke, and the sight of him staring intently you at you made you want to run and hide in embarrassment.

"Yeah, can you imagine what this bad boy will look like when I turned eighty?" You stifled a laugh as Hoseok made a wide gesture with arms to show how massive the flower will be in the future. Suddenly you started laughing, for no reason, and he looked at you as if you had lost your mind. "Why are you laughing like a maniac?"

"I just, this is surreal you know? I managed to grow the prettiest flower I've ever seen on a balcony, and I grew a fairy along with it. This is insane, are you sure you're real and I haven't been hallucinating for the past few weeks?"

Hobi stared at you intently again, a furrow forming between his brows. His eyes darted downward slightly, and it felt as though time had begun to slow as he stepped forward to close the gap between the two of you. He ducked his head down and placed a kiss on your lips. The only explanation for the sensation it gave you was the magic that made up the essence of Hoseok's soul. Stepping back to look at you, his expression was much softer now and he was looking at you fondly.

"What?" You blinked in surprise, and you knew you were probably standing there like an idiot with your mouth agape.

"I've been wanting to do that since, like, the first time I saw you but I couldn't really do much until I was full grown." You stared in amazement again at his confession. "I've begun growing, no pun intended, quite fond of you, if you didn't know."

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual then," you sighed in contentment after learning that you were not the only one who had budding feelings inside them.

July.

The summer began to pass by in a blissful haze filled with sunshine and warmth. Hoseok was no doubt the mythical representation of the sun and all that was good and joyous in the world. He taught you everything there was to know about his mythical land of fairies; his words sounded like velvet coated children's stories, and every night before bed you asked him to tell you more. Once Hoseok had grown full size, you thought it best for him to actually stay in the house with you, despite his insistence that he could shroud himself from onlookers outside. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that the two of you had grown close enough to share a bed, a nice change from the couch in the living room he had been using. It was another night of having the tv playing softly in the background as the two of you laid entwined with one another under the sheets. Every day you fell deeper and deeper in love with the man who was born from a flower, and every day you yearned to tell him so. Do fairies even say, ‘I love you'? Is it even normal for fairies to have romantic relationships?

"Hobi?" You lifted your head from his chest to look him in the eyes.

"Yes, love?" The fluttering in your chest never seemed to cease no matter how often he called you that.

"Do fairies have relationships like humans do?" You paused, and he looked at you confused. "Like, do fairies date other fairies, get married, and live happily ever after?"

"Why do you ask this?"

"Well, I don't know. I just don't know if this kind of relationship stuff is what you fairy people would normally do." He pulled you a little closer to his chest and you could feel his laughter rumble through him.

"Well pretty much yeah. I can't stress enough that fairies are like 88% like humans, save for obvious details. We love the same, we hurt the same, we feel the same, we just don't live the same is all it really is."

"So, you do date other fairies?" You were trying to get down to the question of asking whether he had a girlfriend before he reincarnated on your balcony, but you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer.

"Sort of yes, sort of no. After reaching full growth during our twenty-fifth cycle, we are now able to form a bond with our life mate." He looked down at you to find that you were soaking in every word he was saying. "Some fairies choose to date before their twenty-fifth cycle, just to get a feel for interacting with someone in a romantic sense, but others choose to wait until they come of age. There's a fanciful ceremony, like how humans have weddings, but the meaning of the bond goes much deeper. Once this bond is created, the two people are connected through their souls for eternity. It is the closest relationship we can form as fairies."

"Well, what happens when the bonded fairies reach old age and officially die? Is that the end of the bond forever, then?" Hoseok looked at the ceiling in deep contemplation.

"Not exactly. When we reincarnate each cycle, we keep our memories, emotions, personality, etc. from the previous cycle. That's why we don't change drastically each time. When a fairy reaches its final cycle and ‘dies,' as you would put it, the soul itself remains and embeds itself into a new fairy. This fairy starts as a blank slate, with no recollection of his past life. That being said, the new fairy souls still share the previous fairy bonds to an extent, and more often than not, the new reincarnated fairies find their way back to each other." He shrugged his shoulders, "that's what they say anyway, it's not like we can remember who our past selves loved."

It was your turn for deep thoughts as Hoseok went back to laying under you in silence, his gentle fingers traced patterns on your back, and wove themselves through your hair. You hadn't realized that you had been repeatedly sighing until Hoseok said something.

"Y/N, love, is something wrong? You only sigh that often when you're thinking too much." His face was full of concern and worry, and you didn't want to bother him with such trivial things.

"Were there any pretty fairies that you pined for in your previous cycles?" This seemed to have warranted a deep laugh from him, and you hid your face in his chest in embarrassment.

"Ah, so that's what these questions were about, huh?" He kissed the top of your forehead and grabbed your chin to bring you to face him. "Don't worry, Y/N. I don't have another lover that is missing me from my village right now. I chose not to fall for anyone before I come of age." You grinned sheepishly when he told you this, and you could feel your worries start to melt away. His village. When will he be going home?

"Hobi?" You began to ask him about when he would be returning to where he belongs.

"Yes, love?" But, you thought better of it.

"I'm glad you're here in my life" His departure was an answer you wanted to put off for as long as you could.

"As am I glad that you are in mine." You fell asleep to the sound of Hoseok whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and for the moment, everything was as it should be. You dreamt of that perfect meadow full of flowers and fairies again.

472 notes · View notes