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#teachers are looking to strike later in the year when their contract is up

sendaidivision · 2 years

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Ryūzō's Thoughts on Meguro Division

Saji Buranka

"Another student of mine is entering the D.R.B.?" Ryūzō looks at the high school student's photo and sighs. "I've lost track of how many students that makes thus far. It was already bad enough knowing I was facing 'one'. Now I have up to six or more to deal with." The English professor sighs once more, and removes his glasses, rubbing the insides of his eyes, as he feels exhausted. He puts them back on a couple of seconds later.

"Saji is... he's not a 'bad' student, but he isn't exactly a 'good' one either. The last couple of years, he's had a bad habit of cutting school and classes. He never explained why, but I can tell by the morbid look in his eyes that he's had some trouble over the last few years. That, plus his tendency to get into fights doesn't exactly help matters. I've tried to ask him exactly what is wrong, but he always never gives me straight answers, always saying things like, 'It's nothing you can help me with,' or 'Just a lot on my mind.' I won't pretend to understand his issues, but I hope he knows he can come to me or any of the other teachers for help, be it in or out of school."

Vito Koi

Ryūzō looks at the photo of the tattooist, shocked. He stays like that for a couple of seconds, but he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I, unfortunately, know this young man. I... was hired to assassinate the man he was working for, Ryuu Mafuyu. The Organization received an offer to have this man killed in exchange for a large cash reward. I was the one put in charge of having him killed. I followed Mafuyu for over a week, trying to make sure I got his schedule completely memorized before striking. Unfortunately, I drastically underestimated the strength and dedication of the men he hired. They were all willing to die for this man. And none more so than this man right here, Vito Koi.

"He was there with two other women: one who may or may not have hailed from China, and... 'Black Dahlia', herself. Now, I'm no stranger to fighting when the odds aren't on my side. That's what I've been doing all my life, after all. If it's one person I'm facing, then no problem. Two people at once? A little harder, but still no reason to worry. Three people? If I had prior knowledge and time to plan, then almost assuredly I can succeed. But the thing about being an assassin is that we are only dangerous when we have the element of surprise on our side. If we lose that, we are only as dangerous as our reputation and skills allow us to be. When we accept a job, we go in prepared for a straight-up fight, but we try our utmost to not get into them. That's how I approached every job, at any rate.

"Anyway, Vito-san and his associate were tough, but nothing I couldn't handle. It was 'Black Dahlia' that was the immediate problem. As I stated on her profile, she was the first woman to make me sweat. It was fortunate that the contract on Mafuyu was canceled, as I don't know if I could have continued. Even if I had managed to somehow defeat Dahlia, I'd still have had Mafuyu's two bodyguards to contend with. …I wonder if this is what they call a 'Pyrrhic victory'...

"Later on, I'd heard that Mafuyu had been assassinated, which shocked me. The only person I thought could have done that was 'Black Dahlia'. But to my surprise, it wasn't her, but Vito who was accused of assassinating Mafuyu. I knew that was a lie fabricated by Chuohku. A man as loyal as him would not stoop so low as to kill his own employer. That other bodyguard, the Chinese woman, though... I could definitely see her doing something like this."

Yeong "Cain" Hajoon

"I think I've heard of him from Kotono when she shoved a magazine with his picture on the cover in my face. I've also heard several of my female students speaking about him. A Korean male model... hmm. Well whatever makes him happy, I suppose."

DOG STREET CLUB

"I must admit, as a dog-lover, the name of this team pleases me. I don't know of any streets around here named 'Dog Street', though. Besides that, it's extremely disheartening to see that another student of mine is leading a team into the D.R.B. Why, I don't know. ...I only hope that Saji is not using this tournament as an excuse to do something dangerous to himself. I know he is suffering right now, but he must know that whatever he has planned, it is only a temporary fix. It will not help him in the long run. I sincerely hope he realizes that."

#hypmic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #kiya kara #sendai division #ryūzō mizutori #meguro division #dog street club #saji buranka #vito koi #yeong hajoon

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sleepysera · 2 years

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8.21.22 Headlines

WORLD NEWS

Russia: Car blast kills daughter of Russian known as ‘Putin’s brain’ (AP)

“The daughter of an influential Russian political theorist often referred to as “Putin’s brain” was killed in a car bombing on the outskirts of Moscow, authorities said Sunday. The Moscow branch of the Russian Investigative Committee said preliminary information indicated 29-year-old TV commentator Daria Dugina was killed by an explosive planted in the SUV she was driving Saturday night.”

Somali: Forces end hotel attack that left 21 dead, 117 hurt (AP)

“Somali authorities on Sunday ended an attack by Islamic extremists that left 21 people dead and over 110 wounded when gunmen stormed a hotel in the capital. It took Somali forces more than 30 hours to contain the fighters who had stormed Mogadishu’s Hayat Hotel on Friday evening in an assault that started with loud explosions.”

Afghanistan: Flash flooding kills dozens in Afghanistan, Pakistan (AP)

“Heavy flooding from seasonal rains in eastern Afghanistan and neighboring parts of Pakistan left dozens of people dead overnight, according to local officials on Sunday.”

US NEWS

Wildfire: Western fires outpace California effort to fill inmate crews (AP)

“As wildfires rage across California each year, exhausted firefighters call for reinforcements from wherever they can get them — even as far as Australia.Yet one homegrown resource is rarely used: thousands of experienced firefighters who earned their chops in prison. Two state programs designed to get more former inmate firefighters hired professionally have barely made a dent, according to an Associated Press review, with one $30 million effort netting jobs for just over 100 firefighters, little more than one-third of the inmates enrolled.”

Racism: Minneapolis teacher contract race language ignites firestorm (AP)

“When Minneapolis teachers settled a 14-day strike in March, they celebrated a groundbreaking provision in their new contract that was meant to shield teachers of color from seniority-based layoffs and help ensure that students from racial minorities have teachers who look like them. Months later, conservative media outlets have erupted with denunciations of the policy as racist and unconstitutional discrimination against white educators.”

Religion: Massachusetts student receives uniform violation for hijab (AP)

“A Massachusetts charter school where an 8th grade student was written up for a uniform infraction for wearing a hijab says it understands its “handling of the situation came across as insensitive.” A family member of the Mystic Valley Regional Charter School student posted on social media a picture of the “School Uniform Compliance Form” the student received from a teacher for the hijab on Thursday. In the description of the infraction, the headscarf worn by Muslim women was misspelled as “jihab.””

#current events #news #russia #putin #somali #afghanistan #pakistan #floods #global warming #climate change #climate crisis #wildfire #california #racism #religion

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longninja · 2 years

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Daily mail us

Minneapolis Public Schools interim Superintendent Rochelle Cox declined a request for an interview. “We want to have kids from all demographics having experiences with people of different backgrounds and different cultures, and becoming aware that our shared humanity is what’s important, and not the things that divide us,” West said. She said she’s sometimes been the first educator of color that Black or white students have had. West said she feels strongly that students of color benefit from having teachers that look like them, but said she’s also seen that diversity can be empowering for white students. To Lindsey West, a fifth grade teacher at Clara Barton Community School who identifies as Black and Indigenous, the seniority language is one piece of a bigger mission of improving education. But Callahan disputed that the provision threatens anyone’s job, noting that Minneapolis has nearly 300 unfilled positions as teachers and students prepare to go back to school, and the language won’t take effect until the 2023 academic year.Ĭallahan called it “just one teensy, tiny step towards equity” that doesn’t begin to make up for many teachers of color quitting the district in recent years because they felt underpaid and disrespected. struggling with declining teacher headcounts and tight budgets. Minneapolis is one of many districts across the U.S. Callahan said her union fought for years to get the protection added to their contract, and that she knows of two other Minnesota districts with similar provisions. Around 60% of the district’s teachers are white, while more than 60% of the students are from racial minorities.Īdvocates say students from racial minorities perform better when their educators include teachers and support staff of color, and that it’s especially critical in a district that suffers from stubborn achievement gaps. The contract exempts “teachers who are members of populations underrepresented among licensed teachers in the District,” as well as alumni of historically Black and Hispanic colleges, and of tribal colleges. The contract language doesn’t specifically say that white teachers would be laid off ahead of teachers of color, though critics say that’s what the effect would be. Walker on Twitter called it “another example of why government unions should be eliminated.” Scott Walker, who curbed the power of public employee unions in his state. Recent coverage in conservative platforms such as the local news website Alpha News, Fox News nationally and the Daily Mail internationally sparked criticisms from prominent figures, including Donald Trump Jr. And we could not be more proud of this language.” “This is all made up by the right wing now. “The same people who want to take down teachers unions and blame seniority are now defending it for white people,” said Greta Callahan, president of the teachers unit at the Minneapolis Federation of Teachers. Supreme Court cases that could reshape affirmative action. Meanwhile, the feud is unfolding just months ahead of arguments in a pair of U.S. The teachers union paints the dispute as a ginned-up controversy when there’s no imminent danger of anyone losing their job. One legal group is looking to recruit teachers and taxpayers willing to sue to throw out the language. Months later, conservative media outlets have erupted with denunciations of the policy as racist and unconstitutional discrimination against white educators. When Minneapolis teachers settled a 14-day strike in March, they celebrated a groundbreaking provision in their new contract that was meant to shield teachers of color from seniority-based layoffs and help ensure that students from racial minorities have teachers who look like them.

#Daily mail us

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

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Charter schools are money laundries

Critiques of charter schools usually focus on poor quality education (disproportionately affecting racialized and poor people) and dangerous ideology (the movement is funded by billionaire dilettantes and religious maniacs), and with good reason!

Charters hand public funds to private institutions with minimal oversight. Public money should not go to schools that endorse slavery and indigenous genocide, nor schools that deny evolution and claim humans and dinosaurs co-existed.

https://web.archive.org/web/20180604002542/http://www.orlandosentinel.com/features/education/school-zone/os-voucher-school-curriculum-20180503-story.html

Charter students know they’re getting substandard educations — that’s why the 2019 valedictorians for Detroit’s Universal Academy used their speech to denounce the school, its curriculum and administrators.

https://www.freep.com/story/news/education/2019/06/10/salutatorians-criticize-charter-school-graduation/1381474001/b

The more we learn about charters, the worse the situation gets. Take New Orleans, where, post-Katrina, the Republican statehouse and wealthy dilettante “philanthropists” eliminated all public education in favor of charter schools.

https://www.nola.com/news/education/article_0c5918cc-058d-11ea-aa21-d78ab966b579.html

A decade later, the state education regulator gave half these schools “D” or “F” grades.

No wonder that charter teachers joined LA public school teachers on their Red For Ed pickets in 2019:

https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-edu-lausd-strike-accelerated-school-20190114-story.html

Charter schools pitch themselves as grassroots phenomena, made possible thanks to the passion of parents seeking quality educations for their kids. The reality is that the movement is funded and promoted through a corrupt network of ultra-wealthy ideologues.

The Kochs and the Waltons (Walmart) have secretly funneled vast fortunes into disinformation campaigns aimed at demonizing teachers’ unions:

https://www.theguardian.com/education/2018/apr/12/teacher-strikes-rightwing-secret-strategy-revealed

They were joined by the likes of Trump education secretary Betsy DeVos, a fundamentalist who makes no secret of her view that charters can remove the barrier between church and state and institute publicly funded Christian indoctrination in schools:

https://www.cnn.com/2017/02/02/politics/eli-broad-letter-betsy-devos/index.html

Destroying public education is the sport of kings. Bill Gates blew $775m on a failed charter experiment whose subjects were children who got no say in the matter:

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2018-06-27/here-s-how-not-to-improve-public-schools

Gates has solid teammates in his anti-public-education crusade. I mean, who can say no to Mark Zuckerberg?

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/21/technology/silicon-valley-kansas-schools.html

Misery loves company, which is why the Sacklers — mass-murdering architects of the opioid epidemic — sunk so much blood money into the charter project (incredibly, this “philanthropy” is supposed to improve their reputation):

https://web.archive.org/web/20171113043810/https://www.alternet.org/education/notorious-family-contributing-opioid-crisis-and-funding-charter-schools/

But a critique of charters that starts with poor outcomes and ends with ideological billionaires misses the third leg of this stool: money-laundering and financial fraud.

Admittedly some of that has been in plain sight for years. Remember when an LA school board exec plead guilty to felony finance fraud and conspiracy for his role in the charter-backed takeover of the board?

https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-edu-ref-rodriguez-resigns-20180722-story.html#

But “Chartered For Profit,” a report from Network for Public Education is by far the most comprehensive look at the means by which billions are transferred from public school districts to profiteers, at the expense of kids in both the charter and public system.

https://networkforpubliceducation.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Chartered-for-Profit.pdf

In an interview with Jacobin’s Meagan Day, NPE’s executive director Carol Burris discusses the blockbuster report, which is so damning that it prompted a bill in Congress that bans funding to charters that are managed by for-profit contractors.

https://jacobinmag.com/2021/07/charter-schools-for-profit-nonprofit-taxpayer-public-money-oversight-education-salaries-real-estate-burris-interview

Burris explains that even though nearly all charters are nonprofits (except in AZ), there’s a widespread practice of contracting with for-profit corporations to “manage” these schools; the for-profits are often owned by the schools founders or their relatives.

Others are nationwide chains that offer comprehensive management services — “comprehensive” in the sense of steering schools to procure materials, services and supplies from affiliates that overcharge and kick-back to the management companies.

From substandard, overpriced cafeteria fare; to janky, nonfunctional ed-tech; to unqualified, underpaid teachers, these for-profit entities figure out how to minimize costs, maximize profits, and disguise poor student outcomes so they can keep doing it.

They deploy opaque corporate structures to give the appearance of a thriving ecosystem of suppliers — meanwhile, the largest chain, Academica, consists of 56 companies at one address, more than 70 at another, and a network of real-estate, holding and finance companies.

Real estate plays a major role in charter profiteering. Profiteers scoop up tax-advantaged funding and subsidized loans to buy buildings, leased at inflated rates to charters, with the tax-payer paying their mortgage.

When the mortgage is paid, more tax dollars are used to buy the school at inflated prices.

But it’s even more profitable to run a “virtual school” where you can deliver canned lectures and fake attendance records and pocket vast sums in public money.

For-profits are also loan-sharks. They offer credit to the nonprofit charters so they can afford the inflated prices for educational “services,” charging high interest rates that ensure they get an additional rake off of every public dollar the charter receives.

NPE’s “Another Day Another Charter Scandal” page is a good look at the tip of the corruption iceberg — the crimes that get caught, from fake invoices to outright embezzlement. Charter execs use the school’s credit card to pay for fancy dinners even trips to Disney World.

https://networkforpubliceducation.org/another-day-another-charter-scandal/

Charters shouldn’t exist, period. But if they must exist, then the loophole that allows for-profits to run the notionally nonprofit charter sector must be closed.

Meanwhile, if you want a look at education “reform” that works, check out Andrea Gabor’s 2018 “After the Education Wars,” and learn how eliminating hierarchy, funding the arts, offering good wages and good training to teachers transform schools.

https://www.ineteconomics.org/perspectives/blog/millionaire-driven-education-reform-has-failed-heres-what-works

The formula is rather simple, really: “a respect for democratic processes and participatory improvement, a high regard for teachers, clear strategies with buy-in from all stake-holders, and accountability frameworks that include room to innovate.”

“Robust leadership and strong teacher voice. Their success underscores the importance of equitable funding and suggests that problems like income inequality are far more detrimental to education that the usual suspects, like bad teachers.”

#pluralistic

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saintstrawberry · 3 years

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Out of Touch

First Chapter!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33458812/chapters/83120350#kudos

Ships:

Sakuastsu

Description:

Sakusa met Miya Atsumu on his first day of school.

AKA the touches Atsumu and Kiyoomi have shared throughout the years.

(Inspired by Out of Touch by Hall and Oates)

Notes: HI. Thought it was about time I wrote for my favorite HQ ship. :)) If I missed any triggers in the tags please let me know!

Thank you for reading!

—————

Chapter Title: Smoking guns, hot to the touch/Would cool down if we didn't use them so much

Kiyoomi’s parents died days after his seventh birthday.

For better or worse, he couldn’t seem to remember much about them as time went on- their voices, their touch, their love. What he does remember is the feeling he contracted after their passing- disoriented misery and an incredible, devastating loss of control.

At eight years old, he was officially diagnosed with mysophobia, inspired by his appointed grief counselor. While he understood the weight of his prognosis, he couldn’t wrap his head around how everyone else in the world could simply ignore the dangers presented by their filthy surroundings. He went about life as he always had, except now with an as-needed anti-anxiety medication.

A year after his first prescription, in his fourth year of elementary school, he moved from the suburbs of Tokyo to a small town in the Hyogo prefecture. He had no choice- his grandmother couldn’t afford to house and homeschool him. Fortunately, his mother’s sister, a kindhearted black-eyed woman he knew as Aunt Mei, was willing to take him in. Having already had a child, Sakusa’s older cousin Motoya, she sought to combat Kiyoomi’s newfound loneliness.

Sakusa met Miya Atsumu on his first day of school.

It was February, well into their third term, when the world around them was coated in a brilliant white. Kiyoomi always loved the snow- its delicate grace one of life’s small pleasures. He was studying the milky flakes through the lens of an unfamiliar classroom window when his new teacher, Miss Suzuki, prompted him, “Please, introduce yourself to the class.”

When Kiyoomi said nothing, not at all comfortable nor in the mood to entertain a bunch of strangers, the teacher cued him again more gently, “Just tell us yer name and age.”Right then and there, her drawl grating to his ears, Kiyoomi promised himself he would never speak with a Kansai dialect. He tore his eyes from the window reluctantly.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi. I’m nine,” the curly-haired boy muttered at the front of the classroom before shuffling quickly to his desk at the back. Immediately a few heads turned, their eyes scanning him unabashedly. All but one pair refocused to the front of the room when Miss Suzuki clapped her hands and said, “Alright class, don't overwhelm him! Today we’re going to pick back up with multiplication…”

He resisted the urge to retreat to the corner of the room, his pupils burning holes into his sneakers. He glanced up, once, only to meet the wide, hooded eyes of a boy with a chocolate brown undercut. The brunette offered him a slight tilt of his mouth before a dark-skinned boy with a cropped haircut to his left smacked him lightly on the back of the head with an exasperated, “‘Tsumu.”

Two hours and three lessons later came Sakusa’s worst fear- snack break. Atsumu, then only ten, had marched right up to his desk, stuck his hand out about two inches from Kiyoomi’s nose, and said boldly, “Atsumu Miya. D’ya wanna be friends?”

It took Kiyoomi all of his strength not to vomit at the mere closeness of the boy, let alone respond to his inquiry.

“No,” he said firmly. Then, without waiting for Atsumu’s response, up and bolted out of the classroom. He remembered getting to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall, and feeling its dirty, indecent walls close in on him whilst he cried quietly.

What he didn’t know was that the boy from earlier had followed him, raised a fist to knock on the door, and dropped it wordlessly.

Sakusa started wearing a mask to school not soon after that. While some kids balked, Kiyoomi favored their unwanted stares over the disgusting alternative. The Miya kid stared too, his previous sentiment proving false.

Good, Sakusa thought, I’d rather be alone anyway.

Of course, his inner peace didn’t last long when Atsumu also started wearing a mask to school.

At first, Sakusa didn’t understand. By the way he introduced himself, Atsumu didn’t strike Kiyoomi as the clean and cautious type. Maybe he’s just sick, and his mom forced him into it. Best to stay away, anyway. But Miya didn't stop. He wore a mask every day for two weeks straight. When Kiyoomi caught sight of him folding it inward so as not to contaminate it when he sat down at lunch on the last day of February, something in him snapped- a rubber band pulled too far back.

Atsumu was mocking him.

Furious at the boy’s audacity and his own childish stupidity, Sakusa stood up from his own lunch table with small hands bunched up into fists. Motoya, sat next to him in their corner of the cafeteria, tugged on his shirt instantly, asking him, “What are you doing?” with big brown eyes.

Sakusa ignored him, making a beeline to his bully’s table. Atsumu looked up at the sudden intrusion, his cheeks slightly tinted red from laughing at something- at him- with his friends. He smiled so sweetly, it made Kiyoomi sick just looking at him.

“Oh, h-hey, Kiyoomi-chan. What’s-” That’s when things started to move in slow motion. Sakusa registered Atsumu’s wide, golden-brown eyes blown open with shock and his own fist winding back with all the strength his nine-year-old self could muster.

“Never mock me again,” Sakusa said after his punch landed squarely against Atsumu’s jaw, the latter’s teeth chattering in response. It wasn't the hardest blow, but it was enough to leave the brunette clutching his cheek with a small gasp. When Miya pulled his hand away, a red splotch stained his plain, stupid face, the beginnings of a bruise sure to blossom in the next couple of hours.

That wiped the smirk off his face, Sakusa thought smugly. Miya paused, most likely out of shock, before the ten-year-old looked up at Kiyoomi with a level of vulnerability Sakusa had never seen on another person’s face. A flurry of emotions passed across Atsumu’s features, his eyes growing wet then red, then wet again. His mouth gaped open in a near-perfect oval, trembled a bit, then locked to a tight line.

He looked hurt. He looked angry. He looked betrayed. He looked like he was about to say something until the teachers rushed over to separate the boys.

Sakusa glanced down to his hand, a little sore from the connection, with the sudden realization dawning on him: he touched Atsumu, skin to naked skin. His palm was a light red, as if warmed by the heat from Kiyoomi’s disgusted stare. He blinked slowly in complete disbelief. He let his emotions overwhelm him to the point of making physical contact with that prick.

He felt his bravado bled through as he breathed heavily out his nose, his charcoal eyes still wide on his open palm. Count to ten, he vaguely remembered his grief counselor saying. He wasn’t sure if that applied here, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

1, 2

He thought he could hear Motoya’s voice, maybe feel his safe touch on a clothed shoulder.

3, 4

Atsumu was staring at him- he knew it- still hurt, but different somehow.

5, 6

The boys’ eyes connected, even through the arms of teachers holding them back.

7, 8

Miya said something Sakusa couldn’t quite make out.

9, 10

It looked an awful lot like, I’m sorry.

Ah. The only thing nine-year-old Sakusa hated more than mockery- pity.

#hq #fanfic #fanfiction #aran ojiro #miya atsumu #sakusa #atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakuatsu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #suna rintarou #miya osamu #komori motoya

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trolleybitch · 3 years

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the trolley witch backstory

okay this is long overdue but i thought it was about time that i shared the official trolley witch backstory from this thread. before we start, what we know about the hogwarts express trolley witch from canon: she was hired by ottaline gambol, had been working on the hogwarts express for around 190 years by the time she met albus potter and scorpius malfoy, she had pumpkin pasty grenades and extendable fingernail spikes, and when she failed to stop the boys from escaping the train, she was inconsolable and talked about letting down ottaline gambol.

so, without further ado, her story:

the year is 1802. trolley witch is born into a poor muggle family in rural northern england and her father leaves shortly after she's born. she grows up lonely and isolated, working from a young age to help her mum make ends meet. age 11, she gets her hogwarts letter.

her mother is a bit dubious but lets her go - it's a good opportunity to get rid of the burden of looking after her. she arrives at hogwarts and is sorted into gryffindor, although she doesn't really know what that means. she doesn't make friends easily.

other kids mock her background and upbringing, and her magic skills. she never really learned to read, and with no magical family she's behind on spells and has never been academically inclined. she doesn't ask for help and her teachers don't always notice she needs it.

mid-second year, her mother dies. she doesn't find out for several weeks because who would write to tell her? she spends all her holidays at hogwarts, often alone. the gryffindor common room is all snide comments and judgemental looks so she starts to explore the castle.

in her third year she finds the kitchens. the house-elves are wary of her at first, this strange, solitary girl coming to spy on them, but she becomes fascinated by cooking and after a while they grow to appreciate her interest. they start to teach her.

by fourth year she spends all of her free time in the kitchens, cooking and baking with the elves. homework and lessons get forgotten and she lags even further behind in her schoolwork, but she learns to follow recipes and then to invent her own.

o.w.l.s and n.e.w.t.s come and go and her grades are poor, barely passing half her classes. a few teachers try to offer specialist tutoring and she accepts half-heartedly but her mind is elsewhere - she only wants to cook, to do the thing she does best.

she leaves hogwarts with nowhere to go and no friends to rely on. who would hire the lowly muggleborn girl with no qualifications? she makes her way to london - she's never been but she's heard people say it's the best place to find work.

the city is overwhelming, but she manages to find diagon alley and the wizarding community. one day when she's lurking outside the back entrance to the leaky cauldron, hoping for scraps, an old teacher passes by and recognises her.

the teacher takes pity and asks if there's anything they can do. trolley witch tells her the only thing she can do is cook. the teacher's sister works at the ministry and she knows they are often looking to take on kitchen assistants - she'll get in touch.

after a few days, she's nervously making her way to the ministry of magic for her first day. the hogwarts kitchens were big and busy but they've got nothing on the ministry; a scene of vast, barely organised chaos. her boss is shrewd and fierce, and she's set to work on the most basic tasks to prove herself.

that afternoon, a senior ministry official comes down to check on catering preparations for an event she's hosting in a couple of days. trolley witch has just finished glazing several pans of pastries. the senior ministry official tries one.

'she's new, miss' says a nearby chef, excusing trolley witch's skills.

'impressive, for a new recruit,' says ottaline gambol, looking trolley witch straight in the eye, 'this glaze is excellent. welcome to the ministry.'

an obsession begins.

ottaline visits the kitchens only occasionally but trolley witch is always waiting for her. she works harder than ever, picking up every recipe, designing new dishes, honing flavour combinations, all to make sure she's got something impressive for the next visit.

it works. the older official is mildly impressed, if a little unsettled by trolley witch's solitary, strange nature. she rarely seems to go home or interact with anyone apart from necessary conversations in the kitchens.

one day, they meet in an elevator as trolley witch is taking food to an important ministry hearing. ottaline asks for a sample and their fingers brush as trolley witch hands her a pumpkin pasty. ottaline doesn't notice, but compliments the pasty. trolley witch tries to keep her composure.

'my department is in need of an assistant catering manager, helping to design event menus and so on. think about it.'

trolley witch doesn't need to think. she accepts and begins work in ottaline's department, seeing her almost every day, watching her closely.

ottaline gambol is a force to be reckoned with - strong-willed, assertive, a powerfully skilled witch. over the next 6 years she charts a meteoric rise in power, from senior official to head of department to - in 1827 - minister for magic.

trolley witch never leaves her side. she works hard to keep honing her culinary skills, but she does more. she waits for ottaline outside meetings to walk her back to the office. she analyses the smallest gesture, the most offhand of comments. she's desperate for approval and attention from this woman who showed her kindess on her first day. by her appointment as minister, ottaline has noticed the girl's obsession. she's got more important things to do than navigate an intense crush and figure out how to let this odd, lonely girl down gently.

in 1830, ottaline is finalising plans for the hogwarts express - a new form of transport to safely deliver students to hogwarts, managed by the ministry. it's revolutionary, it's creating a storm of attention across the wizarding world. and it needs a trolley witch.

someone to cook and sell food on the journey, but someone with a keen eye to watch over the students and make sure they don't come to harm. ottaline calls trolley witch into her ministerial office and offers her the job. it's the greatest honour of trolley witch's life.

to be chosen, so specifically, by ottaline. she feels like she's finally been recognised, she's finally achieved something. she realises she'll be apart from ottaline for a while, but probably just a year or two and then they can be together again, right? she begins work.

1st september, 1830. her first day.

'good luck,' says ottaline on platform 9 3/4. 'keep these children on the train, and keep them safe. i trust you to do an excellent job for me.'

those were the last words ottaline ever spoke to trolley witch.

the train departs. trolley witch walks the corridors, distributing pasties and sweets, watching the children. they are all delivered on time and in perfect health to hogwarts - a great success. trolley witch writes to ottaline straight away to tell her the good news.

'thank you for you letter, i'm pleased to hear the journey was a success. best wishes' is ottaline's reply.

she's probably very busy, will write a longer letter soon, thinks trolley witch. she never does.

trolley witch works back in the hogwarts kitchens during the year, with only the elves for company. years pass and trolley witch continues to write long, rambling letters to ottaline, never receiving a reply. she makes the journey back and forth to london at the beginning and end of every holiday, dutifully watching over the students.

she hopes to see ottaline at the station, but never does. in 1835, tragedy strikes - ottaline, nearing the end of her second term as minister, contracts a severe case of dragon pox and dies. trolley witch sees the news in a student's copy of the daily prophet and is inconsolable. she speaks to nobody for weeks, not even the elves, even when a few other members of staff ask her what's wrong.

one day in the kitchens an elf passes by with a full tray of pumpkin pasties, perfectly glazed. she remembers the first day she met ottaline, back in that busy kitchen, and she vows to protect her legacy. she works tirelessly, baking and cooking and watching the children. they test her patience, play cruel tricks, tease her, never ask her name. she forgets the outside world, forgets who she is, thinks only of ottaline.

every journey on the hogwarts express becomes more perilous - she cannot let the children get the better of her, cannot let ottaline's work be in vain. over the decades she picks up elfish magic, learning to weaponise her food, and later herself.

she goes unnoticed by staff and students alike, existing as a constant feature of their hogwarts life, always present but never worthy of attention. staff come and go, and nobody thinks to ask how long she's been at hogwarts. she stays alive through sheer willpower.

1st september 2020.

a normal hogwarts express journey - or so the trolley witch thinks. all is well until albus potter and scorpius malfoy climb onto the roof of the train to try and escape. it's the greatest test of trolley witch's career.

it's been a long time since she was challenged like this. she does her best - pumpkin pasty grenades, armoured fingernails, but the boys escape. her world shatters around her. ottaline would be so disappointed in her - she's failed in her sole duty.

it's been two hundred years and she has never failed before. mcgonagall tries to comfort her, but it's no use. what purpose does she serve now? trolley witch hands in her notice and leaves the castle the next day, never to be seen again. she wanders the forests near the castle, thinking only of ottaline. perhaps ottaline had known all along that she would fail, and that's why she never replied to her letters, why she never visited. she gets lost, deeper and deeper in the forest, until the cold and the dark envelop her.

when the hogwarts express departs for the christmas holidays, something is missing - someone. students start to get impatient.

'where's the trolley witch? i'm hungry.'

complaints are made. eventually the ministry hires a replacement, service resumes. trolley witch fades into history, unremembered.

so next time you are thinking about cursed child, about your cute albus and scorpius headcanons - remember the trolley witch.

remember what they did to her. remember her story.

🛒 1802-2020 🛒

the end

#ccsquad #harry potter #cursed child #hpcc #trolley witch #ottaline gambol #hogwarts express #headcanons #my hcs #trolleybitch #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #this is probs the best thing i will ever write and i'm not sorry

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chalmogsico-college · 4 years

Text

The witch Mint, the wizard Tortoise, and Luara who hadn't found her style quite yet, carefully made their way through the dark pine forest just outside of the school grounds. The perpetual frost that clung to the cold soil crinkled under foot as a sharp wind rattled the branches above them. The three mages were warm in their enchanted robes even as their breath fogged the air infront of them.

"I'm sure he's fine," Mint said, his arms crossed tight across his chest and his voice shaking just so slightly, "Hell, he was probably just running late. I bet he's already at the class room and we're going to be in trouble for not being there."

"No way," Luara replied, as she pushed onward towards the small cabin they knew was somewhere around here, "Professor Van Shamanov is never late, and you know how weird hes been acting over the last few weeks,"

"He's been acting weird because you keep trying to talk him into summoning a new familiar," Tortoise rolled their eyes, "Let the old bastard grieve,"

"Grieving is one thing, but his familiar has been dead for like a hundred years? He needs to move on, and like, its obvious he's capital L Lonely," Luara turns on her heel to follow a different path through the woods, hopeful that This would be the right one. She doesn't worry about getting lost, worst case scenario Mint's insane sense of direction would save them.

"Yeah, I'm going to side with Luara on this one, Tort," Mint nodded as Tortoise gasped in mock offense, "You heard what Headmistress said, the man's getting to the edge of what The Viper will allow. He shouldn't be all alone in the end, and you know he won't just make a friend or something. Too much of a loner,"

"Nope! He won't make new friends because his trio is broken," Luara said,

"And how would you know that?" Tortoise quirked a brow, "Been snooping on our favorite GILF?"

Luara stopped and turned to glare at them, and to their credit, Tortoise managed to not flinch or look away for an entire ten seconds, "He isn't a GILF because that would imply one of us wants to fuck him," Tortoise intoned like a scolded child as they dropped their gaze.

"Good neither." Luara turned to set back on their way as Mint snickered.

Eventually they did find their way to the rotting cabin, a full two hours after class was supposed to have started. Luara took the old brass knocker in hand and thunked it down hard against its strike plate three times.

A moment passed with no response.

Luara raised her hand to knock again as the door swung open on screeching hinges.

Professor Van Shamanov's impressive bulk filled the doorway as he stooped down to glare at his visitors from below the head jamb.

His eyes softened as he saw his startled students, bending to step out of his home and closing the door behind himself as he spoke, "Hello," his voice was rough with too many years spent in fire warmed rooms, "I suppose I'm a bit late for class aren't I?" He untied his robe from around his waist to put it on properly as he started back towards the college.

"Yes sir," Luara never thought of herself as short until she was having to jog to keep pace with their frankly giant teacher's strides, "We were worried about you, its not like you to be late,"

"Yes, I know I've been out of it lately," He nods before changing the topic, "Did you three complete your assignment? Gathered all of your components for today?" he holds out a hand and whistls to call his staff to him, the gnarled thing shot out of the woods like a torpedo but he caught it with practiced ease before it could splinter itself against the trunks of one of the trees, "And are you positive the components you chose are the ones you want to use? The difference could very well change the course of you lives."

Mint fussed with the bundle in his pocket before nodding. Tortoise pulled theirs from under their hat and smiled as they held it up proudly. Luara pulled two from her coat, one wrapped in the yellow she preferred for her spell work, one in the soft lavender Van Shamanov did.

"Yeah, and I brought one for you two," Luara chirped as non chalantly as she could.

To all three students surprise the professor actually held out a hand for it, "I'm curious what you think I'd put in that circle," he huffed good naturedly.

Luara handed it over and giddily tossed a smirk over her shoulder at the others as Van Shamanov undid the bindings to open it up.

A moment later she crashed into him as he stopped dead in his tracks to turn towards her. Luara staggered a step back, "Everything okay professor?" She asked nervously.

"Who told you? I assume Katy, but Headmistress might have known as well," his gaze was focused on the items in his palm, a dried orchid bloom, a nickel ring, and a wishbone.

"Dean Deane ," Luara said with an averted gaze, it wasn't like the professor to show such open anger, "She thinks you need to summon a new familiar, and that if you had the same components you did for your first it might be easier for you,"

"Please do not snoop like this again." Van Shamanov said firmly before turning back on his path, "We will be quiet until we get to class," he commands.

---

The other two trios that made up their summoning 833 class perked up as Van Shamanov entered.

"My apologies for being late. Is everyone ready to begin?" He pulled a tarp from his desk drawer and tossed it into the air. It straightened itself out and settled ready for use in the clear spot in the center of the room.

He waits for the murmurs of agreement to die down before starting on his spiel, "I trust that every last one of you has put the necessary time and thought into what will be happening today. A familiar is a life partner, they will be at your side through thick and thin and will be entirely reliant on you for the magical energy that sustains their like. They will aid you in every way they can and do whatever it takes to help you as long as you return that favor. They are powerful and temperamental creatures of contract, harming or betraying them will be the last thing you do. If any one of you has any hesitations about this, any second thoughts, anything other than Full confidence in what you are about to do, what components you have chosen, or what you will say to them once they are listening, leave. You are not ready yet, and I say that without judgment, I'd rather see you leave today than with a disloyal familiar tomorrow."

He stood infront of his class, head held high as he finished his final warning and reminder and waited to see if any of his students would flinch. When he was met with only eager eyes and nervous smiles he grinned from beneath his beard, "Very good," he turned to who he has decided will go first, "Tortoise, you're up," he finishes firmly as he steps back towards his desk

"Wait, Why?" Tortoise hesitated to get out of their seat.

"Because I'm upset with Luara and I know she wants to go first. By asking you to go first I am acknowledging that as directly as I am ethically allowed to." He takes his seat at his desk as Luara pouts.

"Why not Mint?" Tortoise looked to his friend who blanched at the suggestion, "Never mind, I forgot he was a coward," they sighed and pulled their bundle of components and their wand from beneath their hat as they stood to go to the edge of the circle.

The bundle was dropped in the center of the interlaced runes. The room was near silent beside the soft crackle of the torches. With everyone's attention on them Tortoise knelt in one of the smaller warded circles that surrounded the larger summoning circle.

Their instincts told them to just start pouring magic into it, a show of power to attract an equally powerful familiar, but Professor Van Shamanov had warned them against doing that. Power and Impulsiveness were not a good mix. Besides, they were a wizard, without structure their magic would fizzle and drain too quickly for them to really get anything going.

So, they took a deep breath and reached out to the warding line, pouring magic into it to set it glowing and active. Familiars didn't tend to turn violent with their summoners even if they declined the offer, but it never hurt to be cautious. Then they found the connecting line, the one that wrapped around and around and around the circle, that conected it to the other they'd be reaching into to try and coax a familiar across the boundary from one universe to another. Finally, they found the call line and pushed a surge of power through it, along with the promise of their favorite dice set, a bell they found in the sand outside their childhood home, and a bracelet their little brother had made for them before he passed away.

Speaking the meaning of the offerings was not a necessity, but Tortoise always struggled with the ephemeral and passing concepts along a line like this was definitely more a witch's skill than a wizard's.

"I offer you a dice set with the blessing of The Raven, she's my patron and she could be yours as well. A bell I found when I was young, I carried it with me on a chain around my neck for many years, it doesn't ring anymore but it holds more memories than I could speak, and a gift from my little brother, he didn't know about magic, but he told me that it would protect me. And well… I haven't died yet? So, I assume it works," they take a breath to find their center, "I am called Tortoise and I ask for…" They paused, this was the part that even with the years they had had to think about it, he could never decide on, "I ask for a friend. Someone who's sturdy and who I can rely on."

A hushed moment passed as the candles flickered and the smell of ozone filled the room. At first a fine mist formed within the summoning circle, it glittered like a frozen fog as it passed from its world and into ours, though soon it was thickening around the offered items and taking a solid form.

Tortoise couldn't help but choke out a laugh as a galapagos tortoise took shape before him. Its dull grey shell alone was bigger around than the circle Tortoise knelt in,

"What am I called?" the tortoise asked with a smooth water thin voice,

"Wizard," Tortoise responded with the name that formed heavy in their mind as soon as the tortoise had taken shap. They grinned and stood and let the magic fade from the circle, to set Wizard free of the bindings on it that trapped her within it.

"I look forward to being your friend, Tortoise," Wizard said as she made her way out of the circle with the slow elegant confidence only a fey shaped like a tortoise could muster.

The rest of the class clapped and jeered, Mint shook their shoulder as they took their seat, and Luara clapped and half jumped out of her seat to take her turn before Professor Van Shamanov could call on someone elsee.

Tortoise couldn't stop smiling after Wizard got comfortable next to them, nor could they focus on their friend's turn. They had a familiar and they looked forward to being her friend.

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pulaasul · 4 years

Text

Muggle Studies Revelation

Professor Mcgonagall has received a rather curious letter asking for an interview. Cautious and Curious at the same time, she asks for the Headmaster's opinion of the matter. He urged her to take the interview.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, that simple interview could lead to a lot of revelations.

FFN I AO3

---------

The start of the academic year was very stressful if you ask any of Hogwarts's staff. First Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban.

Now the students have been sleeping in the Great Hall because Black has infiltrated the school.

It was in the middle of the academic year when Professor Mcgonagall received a rather curious letter from a relatively new magazine requesting for an interview at Hogsmeade, particularly at Hogs Head.

The deputy headmistress consulted the headmaster with about the letter, to her surprise, he gave her permission to have an interview with an added task of looking out for Black.

---------

"Good Morning Professor Mcgonagall." A man with black hair wearing muggle clothes greeted the Professor.

"Good Morning, Mr. Batson I presume?"

"You presume correctly professor." The Batson grinned at the Professor. "Why don't we have a sit?"

Professor Mcgonagall nodded and sat in front of the man before her.

"Before we start, would you mind if I revert back into my cursed state?"

"Cursed state?"

"SHAZAM!"

Lightning struck the man from out of nowhere, startling the patrons of the pub and his guest. The lightning strike created a small smoke screen that covered Batson from head to foot.

A few moments later, the smoke dissipated, and what replaced Batson was a young boy, no older than fourteen years old.

"Wha-what happened?"

"You see Professor Mcgonagall, I was either hit by a curse from one of Grindelwald's followers or simply a newly invented spell gone wrong." The child shrugged. "Hence this form."

"Mr. Batson?"

"Yep."

"Merlin's beard!" Professor Mcgonagall exclaimed. "Have you consulted curse breakers?"

"Unfortunately, they too were perplexed with my situation." Batson sighed. "Both here in Britain and MACUSA."

"You're from the Americas?"

"Born and raised." Batson grinned.

"Shall we get to the interview Professor Mcgonagall?"

---------

The interview consisted of topics that Professor Mcgonagall was an expert on: Transfigurations. She had detailed how she came to be the transfigurations teacher, succeeding the current headmaster's former post, as its teacher.

Their topic then turned about metamorphmagus and animagus, their differences and similarities.

"Not to be rude or anything Professor, but is it possible for an unlicensed animagi to infiltrate Hogwarts?" Batson asked.

"What are you saying Mr. Batson?"

"I actually came across rumors about how certain secure areas were infiltrated." Batson admitted. "As Hogwarts's security is something to behold, I wanted to ask if such a thing is possible."

"If we are talking about Hogwarts, no." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head.

"But, children come in to school with pets don't they?" Batson argued. "Could they have masqueraded themselves as someone's pet?"

Professor Mcgonagall's eyes widened at the implication.

"Merlin's beard!" The transfigurations professor exclaimed as she stood up and the books she had fell to the floor.

"What's wrong Professor?"

"Mr. Batson, would it be amenable if we continue this interview for another time?" Professor Mcgonagall waved her wand and neatly stacked her books on her arms.

"If you're trying to catch that unlicensed animagus, I suggest not doing it directly." Batson stood up. "Would you mind if I cover this story as well?"

"I still need to meet with the headmaster and see if it's possible."

"That's fair." Batson nodded.

----------

"Why do you think the Headmaster wanted us to bring out our pets?" Ron hid his pet rat

"In the place where we eat no less." Hermoine huffed. "This is highly unsanitary and we'll likely going to contract illnesses like stomach bugs." She carried her pet cat's cage, with Crookshanks in it.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has a reason." Harry assured his best friends. "Pets are normally forbidden in the Great Hall."

Once every student has deposited their pet cages with their pets inside at the corner of the Great Hall, they immediately took their seats.

"Let the feast begin!"

The idle discussion between the students as they ate their supper consisted of the possible reasons why their pets were asked to be brought with them. A lot of the older students agreed with Hermoine's concerns.

Professor Mcgonagall rang her goblet and captured everyone's attention.

"Good evening students!" Dumbledore greeted the students once more. "I am sure you all are very curious why your pets were summoned to the great hall." The headmaster stood up. "Before I answer that question, I would like us to welcome a very special guest Mr. William Joseph Batson."

A tall muscular man entered the hall's door and strutted towards where the Headmaster stood.

"Thank you Headmaster." William expressed his gratitude.

Murmurs erupted from the Great Hall from students and staff alike. This even was unprecedented, it seemed like only Professor Mcgonagall and the Headmaster was aware of the new comer's arrival.

"Before we start this impromptu lesson" The students groaned. "I know, I know, it's supposed to be night and there shouldn't be a lesson, but bear with me."

A few huffs and groans were heard in the Hall but soon enough everyone was silent, just wanting this impromptu lesson to end.

"I am William Joseph Batson, an American and a no-maj born."

"No-maj?"

"Sorry, muggleborn."

Some hisses and sneers erupted from one corner of the room.

"I also write for a relatively new magazine called 'Mudblood'."

"Sir, with all due respect, did you know that the magazine you've been working for is using a derogatory term?"

"Why, yes I am Ms…"

"Granger sir, Miss Hermoine Granger."

"To answer your question Ms. Granger, yes I am completely aware and so are the few purebloods and half-bloods working for the magazine." William responded. "We are simply reclaiming the derogatory term used to insult us, as something positive, like how a lot of oppressed groups in the muggle world have reclaimed their derogatory terms."

William shook his head before he could get ahead of himself and swerve away from the real reason he was here.

"Who here are muggleborns and/or muggle raised?" William questioned the Hall.

A few students like Hermoine and Harry raised their hands.

"Good, good, now do anyone of you know the lifespans of your pets?" William posed another question.

A few students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff raised their hands and only Hermoine from Gryffindor raised her hand.

"Yes Ms. Granger?"

"I know for a fact that cats can live up to two upto twelve years." Hermoine answered. "Although Crookshanks is a half kneazle, it could be a toss-up between the maximum years that a cat may live and the maximum years that a kneazle may live."

"Very thorough Ms. Granger." William praised.

The Gryffindors clapped their hands with Hermoine's excellent display of intellect.

"Am I allowed to bestow points to the houses?" William asked the entirety of the staff.

"As you are doing an impromptu lesson, you may." Dumbledore nodded.

"Well then, ten points to Gryffindor!" William announced.

This action garnered groans from the Slytherin house and claps from both the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

"Now, I want each of you to retrieve your pets, with their cages, and place them on the table."

The students did what was instructed of them, soon enough, the tables were now filled with animal cages that kept every student's pet safe. Even Neville and Ron had cages for their respective pets.

"Mr. Longbottom, how long do you think your toad would live?" William called out.

Neville nervously stood up.

"I-I I don't know?"

A lot of students laughed at Neville's expense.

"What is wrong with his answer?" William voiced out, silencing the Hall. "At least he had the courage to admit if he doesn't know anything." He praised. "Five points to Gryffindor!"

Everyone was slacked-jaw at the declaration. This was probably the first time where someone was awarded points because he admitted to not knowing the answer.

"I may have awarded Mr. Longbottom points for admitting to not knowing the answer, know that this is probably the only time that's been down and this does not exempt you from studying." William cautioned. "I am awarding points based on how you actually embody the qualities of your respective houses."

The teachers began to talk to themselves, curious as to how the guest was teaching their students.

"Any muggleborn or muggle-raised wizards or witches that know?"

A Ravenclaw student raised her hand.

"Ms. Brunel?"

"A common toad could live from ten to twelve years. There are species of toads where they can only live up to five years. Their lifespan can also depend whether that they are wild or raised in captivity." A Ravenclaw stood up.

"Very good!" William nodded. "Five points to Ravenclaw!"

"Now Mr. Longbottom, how long have you had your pet toad?" William turned his attention back to Neville.

"Three years." Neville answered. "Trevor was a gift to me by my great uncle Algie."

"I see, Thank you Mr. Longbottom."

This trend continued on for a few moments. William will call a pureblood wizard or witch in training and ask them of the lifespan of their respective pets. If they fail to answer, he'd call for a muggleborn or muggle-raised wizards or witches in training and have them answer.

So far three of the four houses have gained points with Ravenclaw leading with 40 points, followed by Hufflepuff with 25 points, and Gryffindor with 15 points.

The reason for Gryffindor with the least points was that Hermoine wasn't called often.

Slytherin house was mostly comprised of purebloods and the muggleborns, muggle-raised or even half-bloods that were in Slytherin continued to hide their status.

"Now Mr. Ronald Weasley." William called out. "I see you have a pet rat. Do you know how long they'd live?"

"N-no sir." Ron shook his head nervously.

"Any muggleborns that could answer?"

Like with the previous questions, Hermoine dutifully raised her hand to answer.

"Yes Ms. Granger?"

"They only live up to two years." Hermoine frowned. "Although some rats live up to three to four years if it's in captivity..." She trailed off.

The Weasley's looked at each other. The twins immediately stood up, George immediately grabbed Harry, Ron and Hermoine while Fred grabbed Ginny and gathered around Percy.

"Weasleys! It is quite rude to stand up while there's a discussion going on!" Professor Mcgonagall exclaimed. "20 points from Gryffindor for each of you!"

"Mr. Ronald Weasley, how long have you had your pet rat?" William smiled.

"I have had Scabbers for three years now." Ron gulped. "Percy had him as a pet first before he was given to me."

Murmurs erupted in the great hall at the revelation. Percy was a seventh year and Ron started when he was in his fourth year.

Scabbers was strangely trying to get out of the cage he was in. The rat scratching, scratching and scratching against his container.

"It can't be!" Professor Lupin exclaimed.

"Mr. Diggory." William called. "Would you do a demonstration for a revealing charm?"

"Of course sir." Cedric nodded.

"Once I release the rat you use a revealing charm, okay?"

William got his wand and pointed it at the cage that contained Scabbers. He lifted the cage off of the table and slowly but surely removed the cage's lock.

As soon as the lock was removed, Scabbers scrambled to escape the cage and jumped to the ground.

"Mr Diggory, now!"

"Revelio, Petrificus Totalus!"

Two orbs of light shot out from Cedric's wand, one blue and one white and both of them hit the rat. As soon as both orbs hit the target, the effect was instantaneous, the rat revealed himself to be an animagus named Peter Pettigrew and he fell on the floor with a thud.

"Mr. Batson, I apologize, but I must suspend your impromptu lesson now." Dumbledore announced. "Prefects escort your housemates back to your common rooms if you would."

"It's quite alright headmaster." William nodded. "But I should praise Mr. Diggory for the initiative of adding a full-body binding curse to prevent the infiltrator from attacking anyone. Fifty points to Hufflepuff!"

"Thank you Mr. Batson." Dumbledore nodded. "Your lecture was informative, I suppose a revision of the muggle studies curriculum is in order."

"No thank you for this opportunity Headmaster." William smiled. "I have to admit that I didn't have much of altruistic motive for this move, but rather to advertise my magazine."

"In any case, we still have a case to solve, Minerva could you call the Weasleys."

--------

Everyone was in the Great Hall for their breakfast. The topic of everyone's discussion was what took place last night, the impromptu muggle studies in the Great Hall that revealed someone that was supposed to be dead.

Most of the seventh years were aghast at the reveal. Peter Pettigrew caused quite a spectacle upon his supposed death, posthumously awarded with a First Class Order of Merlin.

"A criminal was sleeping in the same bed as me?! Could you believe that?!" Ron exclaimed.

"He was an animagus, so I can believe it." Hermoine answered. "We were all clueless about Scabbers's true identity."

"Is Percy okay?" Harry asked. "I noticed that he was rather hurt by the reveal."

"That rat"

"-was his confidant."

"-back when-"

"-he was a child."

The Weasley twins remarked as they watched their older brother enter the Great Hall.

Harry, Hermoine and Ron were silent at this. They knew Percy's penchant for the rules and the reveal that he was unknowingly covering for a supposed criminal would've been a big blow for someone like him.

"I am not that pigheaded to think of him after this." Percy huffed as he sat next to Hermoine. "He had fooled all of us. I was thinking all the what-ifs that could have happened while he was in my care."

"He was an animagus." Hermoines offered. "He fooled both your parents and your two older brothers."

Before anyone could comment about Hermoine's answer, a parliament of owls entered the Great Hall, soon the owls began dropping to each student a copy of a magazine no one had a subscription – The Mudblood magazine.

---------

The Mudblood

Sirius Black Innocent? Peter Pettigrew Found Alive. by: William Joseph Batson

During an impromptu muggle studies lesson in the Great Hall, where the Headmaster invited an expert on the field. It was revealed that a student, who shall remain unnamed, has had his pet rat for over five years. A revealing charm later, it was revealed that the boy's pet rat turned out to be an unlicensed animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew. (more on page 3)

--------

"Huh, this magazine follows the rules imposed by muggle magazines." Hermoine commented. "Underage people remain anonymous, unless consent is given to the magazine to reveal themselves, or the underage person is an athlete."

"Sure could've used that rule before." Harry bitterly commented.

"I agree." Hermoine nodded. "Omitting your name from articles could've saved you a lot of grief."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Ron questioned.

"I read." Hermione shrugged. "Noticed how different the writing styles between the Daily Prophet and the muggle magazines and newspapers."

--------

At Hogs Head, a teen wearing red sweaters and Professor Mcgonagall met up. The two of them were talking, as if it was a boy and his grandmother.

"I must admit Mr. Batson I thought you were alluding to Sirius Black when we had our conversation about unlicensed animagi." Professor Mcgonagall stated. "Black has recently infiltrated the castle, and infiltrated the Gryffindor dorms, hence my reaction the first time we met."

"It's alright Professor." Batson smiled. "While Black is still at large, I think he may reconsider with Pettigrew's capture."

"I suppose so." Professor Mcgonagall sighed. "Can you tell me more about yourself Mr. Batson?"

"Call me Billy." Batson informed the Professor. "I use that name when I'm in my cursed form."

Professor Mcgonagall listened to the boy's words, quite curious herself of who was the person before her.

"I attended Ilvermorny, Three of the four house mascots wanted me to be in their house, but I ultimately chose the Thunderbird house." Billy narrated. "I had a great time at school, then I became an auror, then the curse."

"You've had quite an adventure then Billy?"

"You could say that." Billy smiled.

--------

Professor Mcgonagall had just left the boy in Hogs Head. Billy was pinching the bridge of his nose from the numerous lies he had just fed the Hogwarts's professor.

"Holy Moley." Billy muttered. "I'm in this deep."

#billy batson #harry potter #minerva mcgonagall #captain marvel #shazam #hermoine granger #bbww #story #ron weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #cedric diggory #neville longbottom #albus dumbledore

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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LUCILLE BALL: NUMBER 1, BUT STILL TRYING HARDER

July 29, 1974

Editor's note: following is the final part in a series of eight profiles on America's self-made women.

By PHYLLIS BATTELLE

“Success - whaddya you mean by that?” rasps Lucille Ball in that rowdy voice which strikes adoration into the hearts of Lucy lovers.

“If your concept of success is happiness in what you’re doing, in being a mother, in being a wife, then I’m a success. I’m also damned lucky that I have my health and guts life takes guts and that my work paid off.

“But if you’re talking of the kind of success that’s about dollars and cents, forget it. The real wealth is not out here in Hollywood. Its all highly taxable, honey, and who cares? Money has never been important to me. I hate looking at bills. I hate math. I’m a typical Leo: money-blind. What I’m saying is that not one of us out here has more than $25,000 to buy a stamp with!

“Pennies, Pickles Or Something"

So much for Lucy’s petty cash. Aside from stamp funds, she has assets: a million-dollar home in Beverly Hills, another in Palm Springs and an apartment near Aspen, Colo.; investments resulting from the sale of her Desilu Studios to Gulf & Western for $17 million in stock, her own Lucille Ball Productions Company: earnings from 23 years of “Lucy” series (now running in 77 countries); a percentage of “Mame”, the new super-movie musical; not to mention the proceeds from diligent work dating back to 1913, when she was two years old in Jamestown, N.Y., and spoke little pieces at the grocery store for pennies or pickles or something.

At 62, Lucille Ball Arnaz Morton is No. 1 - but still trying harder. (1) Husband Gary Morton says proudly, “Her work is an obsession and a labor of love, and as long as the public likes her shell never retire.”

Lucy recently did terminate her “Here’s Lucy” series, at least temporarily, but will hold her "business family” (about 500 staff and cast members) together while she produces TV specials. Now, she leers at her orange-haired image in a dressing room minor and says, “I’ve loved to work, always. I discovered very early that the way to please people was to make them laugh at me. So I appeared at church, school, Girl Scouts, anything and anywhere. Made the tickets, sold them, starred in my own shows. That seems backward now. That’s gone out. The business has been hanging itself, and the kids with it, by making stars and superstars out of strange, young people who don’t know their craft."

Drums And Records

An example, Lucy says, could be found in her own son, Desi Arnaz, Jr. "When he was nine, he was very good on drums. Used to beat them while the records played as background. He got a group together with a couple of kids at school Dino Martin and Billy Hinsche and they called themselves Dino, Desi and Billy. Then Sinatra heard them, and they made a record and had a hit.

"A magazine took off on them, and they went on tour. Poor waifs - thank God, they didn’t have any more hits. But it left its mark, this being made a star when you don’t know anything at all, and after two years it was damn hard for Desi and the other kids to get back to doing their homework."

That sort of "big payoff for mediocrity" was not what happened in Lucy's own youth. Her family in Jamestown was "lower than middle-class, hard working, had a truck garden and was never hungry."

Most Influential Man

Lucy's father, a mining engineer, died when she was four. (2) Her stepfather was the most influential man in her early life. To encourage young Lucy’s "flair," he took her to see Julius Tannen, a monologist. (3) “When I saw Tannen sitting on a empty stage in a dark theater, making people cry and then laugh - oh, it was magic, pure magic," she recalls.

At 16, she went to New York, where her stepfather entered her in drama school. "I found out how shy, awkward and unable to cope I was. The teachers put me down, said I had no talent whatever.” Lucy's blue eyes flash. “New York frightened me. Still does. You have to take me out of the hotel on a leash to get me on the streets of New York today. Being tall, lithe and well-sculptured, Lucy took up modeling. But then, almost tragically, she contracted pneumonia with complications and was bedridden for eight months. It took three years of convalescence before she regained complete control of her legs. At 21, through an agent, she was hired to become a Sam Goldwyn showgirl in Hollywood for an Eddie Cantor film, “Roman Scandals”.

Would Take Any Part

“Out here in California, I knew as much as the rest of the girls in movies, which was nothing,” she says. “The difference was I would take any part. I never sought to be a star. I didn't mind being typed. I wanted to be typed. One of the greatest thrills of my life was hearing a director say he wanted a Lucille Ball-type for a picture.

Of course, later it was different, she growls, "when they said they wanted a young Lucille Ball-type.

In 10 years as willing “Queen of the B movies," Miss Ball was out of work only two days.

In 1939 she met a young Cuban bandleader named Desi Arnaz, and they married in 1940. From the beginning, their marriage was a difficult venture: Desi toured the United States with his group, while she stayed in Hollywood making movies. Then Desi served in the army, while Lucy starred not in films but a popular radio series, “My Favorite Husband”. They split. They tried again.

Finally, in 1951, in a desperate move to keep their marriage alive. Lucy sold CBS on what, at the time, seemed an unlikely television series: "I Love Lucy.”

It was the beginning of greater professional success, but not the end of domestic upheaval. Their first child, Lucie, was born when her mother was 40; Desi was born when Lucy was 43. But the much-adored children were not to save the marriage, and in 1960 - tearfully, knowing her diligent efforts had failed - Lucille divorced Desi, citing his outbursts of temperament, instability and violence. Desi did not contest the action.

In parting, they split a $20-million television empire. They are better friends today - at arms length, with new matrimonial ties - than they were during the 19 years of marriage.

Today, Lucy’s sense of well-being with one-time comedian Gary Morton (who is executive vice president of her production company), is obvious and delightful.

"It s really a super life, grins Gary, living with a thoroughbred." Says Lucy, I guess its very possible to live without a good man. Possible, but no fun. To bake a cake is no fun without a man. It’s no fun to make a garden without a man to watch it grow."

Lucy also is, and always has been, a proud and over-protective mother. Is that bad? I don’t think so."

A Share Of Problems

But despite Lucy’s mother-hen" closeness to Lucie, now 22, and young Desi. 20, the Arnaz offspring have strayed into their share of problems. Desi and actress Patty Duke had a much-publicized affair when he was 16 (and Patty was 28); later he became engaged to Liza Minnelli, but that broke up last summer. Lucie was married in 1971 to actor Philip Vandervort, but the couple quickly split.

Lucy is convinced her daughter, who is featured on “Here’s Lucy," will be a star. “Lucie," her mom says, “has all the material of stardom - ability, inclination, vitality, intelligence, beauty, good sense and good taste.

“Wholesome Movies Alive"

In fact, one reason that Lucille Ball finally agreed after three years of rejecting the role to star in the movie “Mame” is that Gary convinced me it could keep wholesome movies alive for talented people like my daughter.

"This industry," Lucy shudders, “has turned into a sex-and-violence factory. The whole thing’s ugly, with thousands of ugly people ripping-off their clothes and ripping-off the public. If that’s what makes good box office, and if box office is what they mean by success, then success is out of kilter!”

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) The advertising slogan “We Try Harder” was developed in 1962 for Hertz Rent-A-Car company, who was perpetually number two in popularity to Hertz Rent-A-Car. Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett satirized the campaign on “The Carol Burnett Show” on October 2, 1967.

(2) Henry Ball, Lucille’s father, was actually a telephone lineman, not a mining engineer. One story had Hunt as the executive of a mining company in Montana. his death certificate listed him as a ‘laborer’.

(3) Julius Tannen (1880-1965) was a monologist in vaudeville. He was known to stage audiences for his witty improvisations and creative word games. He had a successful career as a character actor in films, appearing in over 50 films in his 25-year film career. He is probably best known to film audiences from the musical Singin' in the Rain, in which he appears as the man demonstrating a talking picture early in the film.

#Lucille Ball #Julius Tannen #Henry Ball #Carol Burnett #Avis #Desi Arnaz

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 4 years

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Dream Show

I heard about the Dream TV Show challenge from @incendiaglacies and entered in the event a little late. Thankfully @singledarkshade still let me in and gave me the following cast list: Maisie Richardson-Sellers (Legends of Tomorrow), Malcolm Barrett (Timeless), David Tennant (Doctor Who), Ming-Na Wen (Agents of SHIELD), Lou Diamond Phillips (Prodigal Son), Freema Agyeman (New Amsterdam), and Beth Riesgraf (Leverage). And from that, I created.....

Colby

Summary: The town of Colby is average by American standards, peaceful, and only noticeable during election season. Just like any other American town up until an earthquake and tornado strike the town on the same day within hours of each other. The resulting aftermath brings attention to the town and its residents as they work to rebuild. Every step forward brings out not only the best and the worst from its residents, but suspicious events that might indicate more to the disasters than meets the eye.

Cast:

Freema Agyeman as Valerie Spencer, principal of East Colby High School. She’s held the job for three years and puts her heart and soul into it. Valerie has become engaged to her girlfriend Nicole Gray recently, but sharing the engagement means coming out of the closet publicly and bringing a lot of attention to her. Following the disasters, she becomes a driving force in the town motivating people to rebuild and return to normal.

Malcolm Barrett as Ulysses Spencer, an ER doctor at the hospital. He is Valerie’s younger brother and is aware of her engagement. Ulysses goes through a trial by fire the day of the accident when the ER is flooded with injured and is forced to make several tough calls. One such call puts a strain on his long-time friendship with Kenneth Brenner. Following the disasters, Ulysses is faced with the ire of the community and becomes a pariah.

Beth Riesgraf as Nicole Gray, a local police officer. She is used to being on her own as a woman in the police force and being openly bisexual doesn’t help much either. With Valerie, she has started to learn how to be more open towards others. The quake and tornado put her department into action to help her town and her actions to save senior citizens bring her into positive spotlight for the press. But with the spotlight come attacks on her “life choices”, straining the engagement.

Maisie Richardson-Sellers as Handel Morgan, a first year English teacher at East Colby High School. A newcomer to Colby, Handel has been thrilled with her new life and loves the place she’s settled into within the community. Then the disasters strike her school and she is forced to witness unimaginable tragedy in her classroom. The aftermath pulls her into a situation she never would have expected, throwing further trauma her way. Handel is faced with the healing process, but also a mystery about the events she went through.

Lou Diamond-Phillips as Xavier Engle, co-owner of the XO Coffee and Diner that he shares with high school sweetheart and wife Olivia. Xavier is looked up to by many in the community for his calm attitude and incredible coffee. He and his wife grow close to Handel in the wake of the disaster due to her lack of family and frequent visitation of XO. Xavier is a calm soul but refuses to let anyone push him over.

Ming-Na Wen as Olivia Engle, co-owner of the XO Coffee and Diner with her husband Xavier. With her husband, Olivia is viewed as a valuable member of the community. She’s known Xavier since they were children and has loved him for just as long. Olivia is the first to grow close to Handel after noticing she comes to grade her papers at the coffeeshop in the evening. With that connection, she becomes pulled into the peculiar events happening around town with her husband.

David Tennant as Kenneth Brenner, an accountant. Both him and his wife Paula become injured in the disasters that impact the town, but Paula’s injuries are far more severe. She dies on the operating table after Ulysses makes a call to take a different patient for treatment before her. The loss of his wife, becoming a single father, and finding his business destroyed plays havoc on his emotions and erodes his friendship with Ulysses. Kenneth lets the worst in him come out towards everyone but his son. He knows he needs something to pull him out, only he doesn’t know where to find it.

Episodes

Pilot- The end of spring break in Colby arrives and everyone prepares to go back to their normal lives. However, a massive earthquake strikes the town, following an hour later by a tornado that hits the town dead on. Choices are made with good and ill consequences.

Aftershock- Following the Dual Disasters, the town becomes a target for the media. Valerie does her best to calm her students and teachers while Nicole is thrust into the spotlight. Kenneth grieves his losses. A shaken Handel feels she’s being stalked.

Processing- The town comes together to bury their dead. Valerie and Handel deal with the losses to their school. Xavier and Olivia work to mobilize other small businesses to help less fortunate. Meanwhile, Ulysses has an unfortunate confrontation with Kenneth that sets a new dynamic.

Lend a Hand- Valerie helps her brother after Ulysses loses his apartment contract. Nicole’s television interview doesn’t go as expected. Handel tries to figure out what her captors want while Xavier and Olivia form a search party to find her.

Damage Control- Valerie’s announcement of her engagement to Nicole draws the attention she never wanted, including that of the school board. Nicole searches for the creator of the symbols that have been showing up around town. Kenneth is approached about a lawsuit against the hospital. Handel recovers with the Engles while trying to determine why she was kidnapped.

Setback- Olivia and Ulysses try to keep Valerie busy while she awaits the news of the board’s decision. Handel’s famed pianist father comes to town as she grows closer to Darrius (guest star Dylan O’Brien). Xavier becomes concerned when XO is hit by the tagger and reaches out to Nicole. Kenneth and his son discuss the lawsuit.

Blueprints- Temporary peace is struck between Ulysses and Kenneth to find out why the latter was attacked. Handel and Darrius (guest star Dylan O’Brien) make a break in tracing her kidnappers’ steps while Olivia voices her concerns about him. Valerie and Nicole evaluate their relationship.

Into the Unknown- Handel, Ulysses, Kenneth, and Darrius (guest star Dylan O’Brien) come together to discover something about the earthquake. Valerie takes a stand in town with unexpected help. Olivia makes a rash decision that reveals startling information.

The Third Disaster- The first major town event in Colby since the Dual Disasters is set to occur, but a deeper darkness is playing out beneath the festivities. Valerie, Ulysses, and Xavier try to stop the festival to prevent further casualties. Meanwhile, Handel discovers Darrius’s (guest star Dylan O’Brien) true colors while Kenneth, Nicole, and Olivia search for her. Everything collides in a finale that finds solving one mystery means opening another.

A few notes

· Valerie has several items in the background of her office and apartment that indicate she is a Wonder Woman/DC fan. Ulysses has a Deadpool lanyard and tends to wear Marvel shirts off duty. However, they also say ‘Live long and prosper’ to each other in place of goodbye.

The XO Coffee and Diner gets its name from the owners- Xavier and Olivia.

· In Setback, Xavier becomes alarmed when he sees the symbol graffitied on the back of XO Coffee and Diner. At the end of the episode, he is holding a wooden box, the contents not shown to the viewer. Carved on the lid of the box is the same symbol. Olivia is in the background, leaving it up the viewer to decided if Olivia knows of the box or not.

· During Lend a Hand, Handel hears her captors refer to a General. In The Third Disaster, Darrius kidnaps Handel to take her to mines under the town. He reveals the tornado was natural, but the earthquake was manmade as she suspected. For an unknown reason, he blames her for everything he became. She ends up killing him in self defense when he tries to take her away somewhere. As he dies, Darrius calls her the General and the device he had been holding activates after his death in a flash of light. Handel finds herself standing in the same place and makes her way out of the mines between shots of Kenneth, Nicole, Olivia, and law enforcement coming down. The latter group find an empty cavern as Handel walks out to discover a ravaged future Colby.

#dream show #freema agyeman #malcolm barrett #beth riesgraf #maisie richardson sellers #lou diamond phillips #ming na wen #david tennant #colby

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kauladoeswriting · 4 years

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Life Will Change, Chapter 2

Summary: All things considered, the first visit to school could have gone much worse.

Fandom: Rockman.EXE/Persona 5 Fusion

Words: 2573 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ao3

April 17th, 2016 Morning

When Enzan awoke, it was not to the jail cell.

He was staring up at the ceiling of his room that Meijin had given him to live in, and the blankets on the bed were soft and fluffy, not the thing scratchy ones. Looking around the room, there was no sight of iron bars, strangers in blue uniforms, or a creepy old man behind a desk.

He wasn’t in jail. It was just a dream. And it felt way too real, like instead of being figments of his imagination, these people, this… Igor, Iris, Colonel were people he could get to know. But that was insane. Right?

“Enzan-kun! It’s time to get up!” That snapped Enzan out of his reverie about his weird dream. Meijin had come to wake him up? He could even be bothered to help? He shook it off. It was nothing. Just doing his job as a caretaker for the next year. Doesn’t want to be inconvenienced. Right. “Enzan-kun!” “I’m up!” He called back, pushing himself out of bed. It was time to be awake, and solving his dreams was secondary to solving his real world problems at his current point in time. For now, he’d worry about going to his new school and meeting the principal. To feel out his new contract that he was going to have to follow, whether he really wanted to or not.

“I made you breakfast! You’ll want the energy before facing the school!” He got himself his nicest casual outfit before opening the door. Meijin smiled and flashed him a thumbs up before disappearing downstairs. With a roll of his shoulder, Enzan followed him. Time to eat. Whatever that breakfast may be. The what didn’t matter to Enzan very much.

Truthfully, he should have expected it to just be a bowl of cereal. He can’t imagine someone would be willing to go with something more complex for someone like him. (Though it was worth noting that Meijin himself had a bowl of cereal as well.) At least it was one of the sweeter cereals; unbecoming as it may have been for someone of his stature, it had always been a guilty pleasure.

“Weslyn told me that you haven’t been to a public school before.”

Enzan paused with the spoon midway to his mouth, caught slightly off guard by the question. He didn’t know he why he was surprised the other would try to make conversation over a meal. Social ettiquette said that making light conversation over a meal was a good thing.

Enzan set the spoon back into the bowl. “No, I have not. Father thought it was below someone like us.”

“You probably shouldn’t stop eating; The cereal will get all soggy.” When it was clear that Mijin wasn’t going to say anything else until he went back to eating, Enzan picked his spoon back up to continue working on the food. “Let me guess; School was all private tutors, for you?”

Enzan nodded. “Yes it was. Father was adamant that I was to recieve only the finest education that money could buy me.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Enjoy it? “It served its purposes. I learned what I needed to learn to succeed in life and eventually take over Father’s business.” There was no room in that life for enjoying something as mundane as school. There were far more important things to worry about.

Meijin raised his eye brows. “That wasn’t what I asked, Enzan-kun.” He gestured at Enzan with the spoon in his hand. “I asked if you enjoyed private tutoring.”

At least eating the cereal bought Enzan some time to think before he had to answer that. Did he enjoy it? “I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it. But it did what it needed to do, and I have already gotten a decent education.”

Meijin acknowledged that he was heard, though he didn’t say anything else right away. “Unfortunately, your probation requires you to attend a public school. Will you be able to handle it?”

That was almost offensive. “I know how to handle myself in public. It can’t be that bad.” He most likely already knew the material, so it was a matter of keeping his head down and not worrying about the other students. He would behave himself.

(He almost liked the idea of the structure school was going to provide to his day, in lieu of working.)

“I hope it’s as easy for you as you are expecting then.” Meijin finished off the milk in his bowl before getting up to put it in the sink. “Finish up soon, okay? We’ve got to get to the school to meet your teachers.”

Meeting teachers. Enzan was really looking forward to that - not. They’d all know who he was before he even stepped foot into the school, and he wasn’t looking forward to being judged before he even opened his mouth there.

But if Enzan knew anything, it was business, and he had confidence he’d be able to prove himself both a capable student and a well behaved one.

“Just keep your head up okay? Regardless of what happens at the school today.”

The encouragement drew a small smile out of Enzan, for the briefest of moments. It was too soon to tell, of course, but it seemed his placement wasn’t going to be so bad.

Now, he needed to finish his food before he made Meijin wait too long for him. ...Gross. It seemed like he had made the cereal wait too long already.

----

When Enzan was ready, it was only 8 AM, and they’d have plenty of time to get to the school just to meet his teachers. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or not; All he could do was wait and see what would happen.

By driving, the school wasn’t that far away, making the drive in a mere twenty minutes. This wouldn’t be the norm for his day to day commute, since Meijin couldn’t drive him every single day. The instructions were simple enough though.

And then they were there. Actually in front of the school that Enzan was probably going to graduate from. He wasn’t totally sure what he had been expecting when he came face to face with the school; maybe something a little more like a prison, like all those stupid tv shows that came on when it was way too late and he needed the background noise to push through that last little bit of paperwork.

Instead it just looked like a nice, decent sized school building. An older girl with slightly curly blonde hair was hauling some dirt around by the steps as she tended to the potted flowers, and held a conversation with another girl with red hair pulled into a ponytail. A few kids lounged in the yard, likely intending to be there for as long as they could manage before having to begin the school day properly.

“Enzan-kun, do you want to just stand there all day?”

Enzan jumped, snapping out of his reverie quickly. “Ah, no. I’m sorry, let’s go in.”

Meijin chuckled. “Have you never been this close to a school before?”

“No. There’s a lot of people.” The statement rang even more true as they stepped into the main foyer of the school. “I’m not sure what I expected.”

“You’ll have to adapt to this quickly, you know. But you seem like a smart kid, you’ll figure it out.” He had a lot of confidence in Enzan for some reason. “Now. We need to find our way to the third floor? I think?” Meijin dug around in his pocket and pulled a guide out with a noise of triumph. “It’s been a bit since I’ve been here!”

“You went here?”

“Aaaaah, that’s not important right now. What’s important is finding where the principal’s office is.” He looked over the paper - a map? Maybe Enzan should look into obtaining one for himself, that would help greatly with his first few days. Still. “... Was going here a bad thing for you?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. Why dodge the question?

“Why don’t you ask me later, yeah? Okay, I think it’s on the third floor.”

Frustrated, but realizing that he probably wasn’t going to get any sort of straight answer for the time being, Enzan shoved his hands in his pockets, and followed after Meijin, eyes scanning back and forth across the halls, trying to commit all the locations to memory. Even without a map, he wanted a basic idea of how to get around.

He didn’t need to get lost and make a fool of himself on opening day.

The bell rang, as kids started making their ways to class. As they made their ways up to the third floor, Enzan caught sight of flyers for the computer club plastered all over the bulletin boards, boasting an ‘incredible look into invention and programming’ and ‘working with rare, precious devices’ for ‘a small upkeep fee paid directly to the teacher.’

It looked interesting, and like something he might want to do at some point into the future, but alas, he was broke. He didn’t exactly have Father’s backing, and without it, he lacked funds of any kind.

It was okay. He’d live, no matter how fun it looked. Still, even just getting to work on technology for fun would have been a great way to pass the year...

Meijin was right in guessing it was on the third floor. He took a breath to steele himself, not knowing what he’d find on the other side of the door, meeting the principal and his homeroom teacher.

“Get your game face on, kid.” Meijin gives him an encouraging smile. “This meeting might just decide your future.” Enzan had faced business meetings scarier than this. He’d be fine, he knew exactly how to conduct himself in situations like this.

(That didn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach. They’d be looking at him like he was a criminal; there’s no way he’d meet even more adults willing to accept his past like Meijin did.)

The open door revealed and revealed an older man with a white beard and a striking black and red suit, accompanied by a much younger woman, with brown hair in two buns on the sides of her head and a nice, simple dress.

“You must be Ijuuin Enzan and his guardian, Eguchi Meijin, correct?” The man is flipping through some paperwork on his desk. More than likely it was Enzan’s own transfer papers.

“Yes, that is me.” Enzan nodded his head in greeting.

While Enzan had gone for polite, Meijin didn’t bother with the veneer of formalacy. “Yo! Just Meijin will be fine.”

The woman seemed amused at least, hiding a smile behind her hand, while the principal just glared at him, before gesturing for them both to sit down. “Let’s make this quick, I’m a busy man, and we have more things to deal with than the riffraff who is lucky we took him in.”

Meijin’s smile faded into something more serious. Enzan merely had to close his eyes to calm himself for a half a second. There was no need to have such an aggressive greeting, sure, but he had dealt with much worse in business meetings. He’d carry on just fine.

“Sir, there’s no need to-” The woman spoke up, but the principal waved her off.

“It’s unimportant, Mariko.” The woman, apparently Mariko, stepped back with a slight shake of her head. “I am Gauss Magnus, the principal of the school and the one kind enough to allow you to be admitted despite your… unsavory past.”

“And we’re grateful. Let’s get straight to the important stuff, yeah?” Meijin asked, leaning forward. It was almost like his whole demeanor had changed in those few seconds. Maybe the principal’s attitude had bothered him too.

“Right. There’s no need for lollygagging around. Simply put, Ijuuin-kun here is in a very precarious position, and we’re taking a big risk in accepting someone with a known record of assault.”

Don’t wince, Enzan. You knew that was coming. “So we have some ground rules we need to lay.”

Enzan nodded. “Get on with it, already.” Meijin said, waving the man to continue with what he was saying. So much for diplomacy? “It should be quite simple. You keep your head down and you don’t cause trouble. I expect exceptional grades from you, based on your academic history.” Mariko looked as though she wanted to say something, based on the papers she was looking at on her clipboard, but gave up when she wasn’t even given room to speak. “You will treat every teacher at this school with respect, and Mariko here will be reporting to me the instant you step out of line.” He saw that coming as well.

This was going to be a long meeting.

----

“He couldn’t think of a single creative thing to say in that whole speech?” It seemed Meijin was more miffed about the whole meeting than Enzan was, if the grumbling was anything to go by. “Could have said that all in a letter and gotten the same effect.”

“It’s just a formality. It’s required by the probation.” Enzan points out, careful to commit the path they’re walking to memory. It’s the same as they walked before, but it never hurt to review and review again.

“I know that.” Evidently, Meijin’s dislike for formalities extended beyond just the way he was addressed.

“I appreciate you staying, despite not wanting to.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

“COMING THROUGH!”

Their conversation was interrupted by a brunette boy trying to shove past them with a box of machine parts in his arms. Despite the fact that both Enzan and Meijin tried to vacate his way, his shoulder still hit Enzan, sending both his box and Enzan spiraling to the ground and throwing pieces every where. In turn, the girl that had been right behind him, crashed into him and caused the folder of papers she was holding to flutter into the air and fall like snow.

“Netto, you dummy!” complained the girl, trying futilely to catch a few of the papers before they fell all over the floor.

“Sorry, Meiru-chan!” The boy like wise was trying to gather up the parts that he had scattered everywhere.

“That’s how you break things,” Enzan adds on, getting onto his knees to help the boy, Netto, pick up the parts. “You should slow down.” “I’m already late; he’s gonna kill me…”

“I don’t know why you put up with him.” Meiru says, gathering up her papers with Meijin’s help. “You know why!” he said, flustered. “There’s no time!”

Enzan gave Meijin a bewildered glance as the two friends got up as their stuff was handed back to them, and they tore down the hall with a shout of thanks.

So that happened. Maybe he’ll see those two again and figure out what the deal with that was.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Meijin left him to finish cleaning his room, and he was able to go to sleep early.

Tomorrow would be his first day of school, and he’d be left to face the subways once again to find his way to the school. To begin his education once again, and maybe start making a new life for himself.

His dreams were thankfully free of jail cells and chains.

#Rockman.exe #Enzan Ijuuin #MMBN #persona 5 #megaman battle network #fanfic #unbeta'd #Life Will Change

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

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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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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 4 years

Text

In the economic sphere too, the ability to hold a hammer or press a button is becoming less valuable than before. In the past, there were many things only humans could do. But now robots and computers are catching up, and may soon outperform humans in most tasks. True, computers function very differently from humans, and it seems unlikely that computers will become humanlike any time soon. In particular, it doesn’t seem that computers are about to gain consciousness, and to start experiencing emotions and sensations. Over the last decades there has been an immense advance in computer intelligence, but there has been exactly zero advance in computer consciousness. As far as we know, computers in 2016 are no more conscious than their prototypes in the 1950s. However, we are on the brink of a momentous revolution. Humans are in danger of losing their value, because intelligence is decoupling from consciousness.

Until today, high intelligence always went hand in hand with a developed consciousness. Only conscious beings could perform tasks that required a lot of intelligence, such as playing chess, driving cars, diagnosing diseases or identifying terrorists. However, we are now developing new types of non-conscious intelligence that can perform such tasks far better than humans. For all these tasks are based on pattern recognition, and non-conscious algorithms may soon excel human consciousness in recognising patterns. This raises a novel question: which of the two is really important, intelligence or consciousness? As long as they went hand in hand, debating their relative value was just a pastime for philosophers. But in the twenty-first century, this is becoming an urgent political and economic issue. And it is sobering to realise that, at least for armies and corporations, the answer is straightforward: intelligence is mandatory but consciousness is optional.

Armies and corporations cannot function without intelligent agents, but they don’t need consciousness and subjective experiences. The conscious experiences of a flesh-and-blood taxi driver are infinitely richer than those of a self-driving car, which feels absolutely nothing. The taxi driver can enjoy music while navigating the busy streets of Seoul. His mind may expand in awe as he looks up at the stars and contemplates the mysteries of the universe. His eyes may fill with tears of joy when he sees his baby girl taking her very first step. But the system doesn’t need all that from a taxi driver. All it really wants is to bring passengers from point A to point B as quickly, safely and cheaply as possible. And the autonomous car will soon be able to do that far better than a human driver, even though it cannot enjoy music or be awestruck by the magic of existence.

Indeed, if we forbid humans to drive taxis and cars altogether, and give computer algorithms monopoly over traffic, we can then connect all vehicles to a single network, and thereby make car accidents virtually impossible. In August 2015, one of Google’s experimental self-driving cars had an accident. As it approached a crossing and detected pedestrians wishing to cross, it applied its brakes. A moment later it was hit from behind by a sedan whose careless human driver was perhaps contemplating the mysteries of the universe instead of watching the road. This could not have happened if both vehicles were steered by interlinked computers. The controlling algorithm would have known the position and intentions of every vehicle on the road, and would not have allowed two of its marionettes to collide. Such a system will save lots of time, money and human lives – but it will also do away with the human experience of driving a car and with tens of millions of human jobs.

Some economists predict that sooner or later, unenhanced humans will be completely useless. While robots and 3D printers replace workers in manual jobs such as manufacturing shirts, highly intelligent algorithms will do the same to white-collar occupations. Bank clerks and travel agents, who a short time ago were completely secure from automation, have become endangered species. How many travel agents do we need when we can use our smartphones to buy plane tickets from an algorithm?

Stock-exchange traders are also in danger. Most trade today is already being managed by computer algorithms, which can process in a second more data than a human can in a year, and that can react to the data much faster than a human can blink. On 23 April 2013, Syrian hackers broke into Associated Press’s official Twitter account. At 13:07 they tweeted that the White House had been attacked and President Obama was hurt. Trade algorithms that constantly monitor newsfeeds reacted in no time, and began selling stocks like mad. The Dow Jones went into free fall, and within sixty seconds lost 150 points, equivalent to a loss of $136 billion! At 13:10 Associated Press clarified that the tweet was a hoax. The algorithms reversed gear, and by 13:13 the Dow Jones had recuperated almost all the losses.

Three years previously, on 6 May 2010, the New York stock exchange underwent an even sharper shock. Within five minutes – from 14:42 to 14:47 – the Dow Jones dropped by 1,000 points, wiping out $1 trillion. It then bounced back, returning to its pre-crash level in a little over three minutes. That’s what happens when super-fast computer programs are in charge of our money. Experts have been trying ever since to understand what happened in this so-called ‘Flash Crash’. We know algorithms were to blame, but we are still not sure exactly what went wrong. Some traders in the USA have already filed lawsuits against algorithmic trading, arguing that it unfairly discriminates against human beings, who simply cannot react fast enough to compete. Quibbling whether this really constitutes a violation of rights might provide lots of work and lots of fees for lawyers.

And these lawyers won’t necessarily be human. Movies and TV series give the impression that lawyers spend their days in court shouting ‘Objection!’ and making impassioned speeches. Yet most run-of-the-mill lawyers spend their time going over endless files, looking for precedents, loopholes and tiny pieces of potentially relevant evidence. Some are busy trying to figure out what happened on the night John Doe got killed, or formulating a gargantuan business contract that will protect their client against every conceivable eventuality. What will be the fate of all these lawyers once sophisticated search algorithms can locate more precedents in a day than a human can in a lifetime, and once brain scans can reveal lies and deceptions at the press of a button? Even highly experienced lawyers and detectives cannot easily spot deceptions merely by observing people’s facial expressions and tone of voice. However, lying involves different brain areas to those used when we tell the truth. We’re not there yet, but it is conceivable that in the not too distant future fMRI scanners could function as almost infallible truth machines. Where will that leave millions of lawyers, judges, cops and detectives? They might need to go back to school and learn a new profession.

When they get in the classroom, however, they may well discover that the algorithms have got there first. Companies such as Mindojo are developing interactive algorithms that not only teach me maths, physics and history, but also simultaneously study me and get to know exactly who I am. Digital teachers will closely monitor every answer I give, and how long it took me to give it. Over time, they will discern my unique weaknesses as well as my strengths. They will identify what gets me excited, and what makes my eyelids droop. They could teach me thermodynamics or geometry in a way that suits my personality type, even if that particular way doesn’t suit 99 per cent of the other pupils. And these digital teachers will never lose their patience, never shout at me, and never go on strike. It is unclear, however, why on earth I would need to know thermodynamics or geometry in a world containing such intelligent computer programs.

Even doctors are fair game for the algorithms. The first and foremost task of most doctors is to diagnose diseases correctly, and then suggest the best available treatment. If I arrive at the clinic complaining about fever and diarrhoea, I might be suffering from food poisoning. Then again, the same symptoms might result from a stomach virus, cholera, dysentery, malaria, cancer or some unknown new disease. My doctor has only five minutes to make a correct diagnosis, because this is what my health insurance pays for. This allows for no more than a few questions and perhaps a quick medical examination. The doctor then cross-references this meagre information with my medical history, and with the vast world of human maladies. Alas, not even the most diligent doctor can remember all my previous ailments and check-ups. Similarly, no doctor can be familiar with every illness and drug, or read every new article published in every medical journal. To top it all, the doctor is sometimes tired or hungry or perhaps even sick, which affects her judgement. No wonder that doctors often err in their diagnoses, or recommend a less-than-optimal treatment.

Now consider IBM’s famous Watson – an artificial intelligence system that won the Jeopardy! television game show in 2011, beating human former champions. Watson is currently groomed to do more serious work, particularly in diagnosing diseases. An AI such as Watson has enormous potential advantages over human doctors. Firstly, an AI can hold in its databanks information about every known illness and medicine in history. It can then update these databanks every day, not only with the findings of new researches, but also with medical statistics gathered from every clinic and hospital in the world.

Secondly, Watson can be intimately familiar not only with my entire genome and my day-to-day medical history, but also with the genomes and medical histories of my parents, siblings, cousins, neighbours and friends. Watson will know instantly whether I visited a tropical country recently, whether I have recurring stomach infections, whether there have been cases of intestinal cancer in my family or whether people all over town are complaining this morning about diarrhoea.

Thirdly, Watson will never be tired, hungry or sick, and will have all the time in the world for me. I could sit comfortably on my sofa at home and answer hundreds of questions, telling Watson exactly how I feel. This is good news for most patients (except perhaps hypochondriacs). But if you enter medical school today in the expectation of still being a family doctor in twenty years, maybe you should think again. With such a Watson around, there is not much need for Sherlocks.

This threat hovers over the heads not only of general practitioners, but also of experts. Indeed, it might prove easier to replace doctors specialising in a relatively narrow field such as cancer diagnosis. For example, in a recent experiment a computer algorithm diagnosed correctly 90 per cent of lung cancer cases presented to it, while human doctors had a success rate of only 50 per cent. In fact, the future is already here. CT scans and mammography tests are routinely checked by specialised algorithms, which provide doctors with a second opinion, and sometimes detect tumours that the doctors missed.

A host of tough technical problems still prevent Watson and its ilk from replacing most doctors tomorrow morning. Yet these technical problems – however difficult – need only be solved once. The training of a human doctor is a complicated and expensive process that lasts years. When the process is complete, after ten years of studies and internships, all you get is one doctor. If you want two doctors, you have to repeat the entire process from scratch. In contrast, if and when you solve the technical problems hampering Watson, you will get not one, but an infinite number of doctors, available 24/7 in every corner of the world. So even if it costs $100 billion to make it work, in the long run it would be much cheaper than training human doctors.

And what’s true of doctors is doubly true of pharmacists. In 2011 a pharmacy opened in San Francisco manned by a single robot. When a human comes to the pharmacy, within seconds the robot receives all of the customer’s prescriptions, as well as detailed information about other medicines taken by them, and their suspected allergies. The robot makes sure the new prescriptions don’t combine adversely with any other medicine or allergy, and then provides the customer with the required drug. In its first year of operation the robotic pharmacist provided 2 million prescriptions, without making a single mistake. On average, flesh-and-blood pharmacists get wrong 1.7 per cent of prescriptions. In the United States alone this amounts to more than 50 million prescription errors every year!

Some people argue that even if an algorithm could outperform doctors and pharmacists in the technical aspects of their professions, it could never replace their human touch. If your CT indicates you have cancer, would you like to receive the news from a caring and empathetic human doctor, or from a machine? Well, how about receiving the news from a caring and empathetic machine that tailors its words to your personality type? Remember that organisms are algorithms, and Watson could detect your emotional state with the same accuracy that it detects your tumours.

This idea has already been implemented by some customer-services departments, such as those pioneered by the Chicago-based Mattersight Corporation. Mattersight publishes its wares with the following advert: ‘Have you ever spoken with someone and felt as though you just clicked? The magical feeling you get is the result of a personality connection. Mattersight creates that feeling every day, in call centers around the world.’ When you call customer services with a request or complaint, it usually takes a few seconds to route your call to a representative. In Mattersight systems, your call is routed by a clever algorithm. You first state the reason for your call. The algorithm listens to your request, analyses the words you have chosen and your tone of voice, and deduces not only your present emotional state but also your personality type – whether you are introverted, extroverted, rebellious or dependent. Based on this information, the algorithm links you to the representative that best matches your mood and personality. The algorithm knows whether you need an empathetic person to patiently listen to your complaints, or you prefer a no-nonsense rational type who will give you the quickest technical solution. A good match means both happier customers and less time and money wasted by the customer-services department.

The most important question in twenty-first-century economics may well be what to do with all the superfluous people. What will conscious humans do, once we have highly intelligent non-conscious algorithms that can do almost everything better?

Throughout history the job market was divided into three main sectors: agriculture, industry and services. Until about 1800, the vast majority of people worked in agriculture, and only a small minority worked in industry and services. During the Industrial Revolution people in developed countries left the fields and herds. Most began working in industry, but growing numbers also took up jobs in the services sector. In recent decades developed countries underwent another revolution, as industrial jobs vanished, whereas the services sector expanded. In 2010 only 2 per cent of Americans worked in agriculture, 20 per cent worked in industry, 78 per cent worked as teachers, doctors, webpage designers and so forth. When mindless algorithms are able to teach, diagnose and design better than humans, what will we do?

This is not an entirely new question. Ever since the Industrial Revolution erupted, people feared that mechanisation might cause mass unemployment. This never happened, because as old professions became obsolete, new professions evolved, and there was always something humans could do better than machines. Yet this is not a law of nature, and nothing guarantees it will continue to be like that in the future. Humans have two basic types of abilities: physical abilities and cognitive abilities. As long as machines competed with us merely in physical abilities, you could always find cognitive tasks that humans do better. So machines took over purely manual jobs, while humans focused on jobs requiring at least some cognitive skills. Yet what will happen once algorithms outperform us in remembering, analysing and recognising patterns?

The idea that humans will always have a unique ability beyond the reach of non-conscious algorithms is just wishful thinking. True, at present there are numerous things that organic algorithms do better than non-organic ones, and experts have repeatedly declared that something will ‘for ever’ remain beyond the reach of non-organic algorithms. But it turns out that ‘for ever’ often means no more than a decade or two. Until a short time ago, facial recognition was a favourite example of something which even babies accomplish easily but which escaped even the most powerful computers on earth. Today facial-recognition programs are able to recognise people far more efficiently and quickly than humans can. Police forces and intelligence services now use such programs to scan countless hours of video footage from surveillance cameras, tracking down suspects and criminals.

In the 1980s when people discussed the unique nature of humanity, they habitually used chess as primary proof of human superiority. They believed that computers would never beat humans at chess. On 10 February 1996, IBM’s Deep Blue defeated world chess champion Garry Kasparov, laying to rest that particular claim for human pre-eminence.

Deep Blue was given a head start by its creators, who preprogrammed it not only with the basic rules of chess, but also with detailed instructions regarding chess strategies. A new generation of AI uses machine learning to do even more remarkable and elegant things. In February 2015 a program developed by Google DeepMind learned by itself how to play forty-nine classic Atari games. One of the developers, Dr Demis Hassabis, explained that ‘the only information we gave the system was the raw pixels on the screen and the idea that it had to get a high score. And everything else it had to figure out by itself.’ The program managed to learn the rules of all the games it was presented with, from Pac-Man and Space Invaders to car racing and tennis games. It then played most of them as well as or better than humans, sometimes coming up with strategies that never occur to human players.

Computer algorithms have recently proven their worth in ball games, too. For many decades, baseball teams used the wisdom, experience and gut instincts of professional scouts and managers to pick players. The best players fetched millions of dollars, and naturally enough the rich teams got the cream of the market, whereas poorer teams had to settle for the scraps. In 2002 Billy Beane, the manager of the low-budget Oakland Athletics, decided to beat the system. He relied on an arcane computer algorithm developed by economists and computer geeks to create a winning team from players that human scouts overlooked or undervalued. The old-timers were incensed by Beane’s algorithm transgressing into the hallowed halls of baseball. They said that picking baseball players is an art, and that only humans with an intimate and long-standing experience of the game can master it. A computer program could never do it, because it could never decipher the secrets and the spirit of baseball.

They soon had to eat their baseball caps. Beane’s shoestring-budget algorithmic team ($44 million) not only held its own against baseball giants such as the New York Yankees ($125 million), but became the first team ever in American League baseball to win twenty consecutive games. Not that Beane and Oakland could enjoy their success for long. Soon enough, many other baseball teams adopted the same algorithmic approach, and since the Yankees and Red Sox could pay far more for both baseball players and computer software, low-budget teams such as the Oakland Athletics now had an even smaller chance of beating the system than before.

In 2004 Professor Frank Levy from MIT and Professor Richard Murnane from Harvard published a thorough research of the job market, listing those professions most likely to undergo automation. Truck drivers were given as an example of a job that could not possibly be automated in the foreseeable future. It is hard to imagine, they wrote, that algorithms could safely drive trucks on a busy road. A mere ten years later, Google and Tesla not only imagine this, but are actually making it happen.

In fact, as time goes by, it becomes easier and easier to replace humans with computer algorithms, not merely because the algorithms are getting smarter, but also because humans are professionalising. Ancient hunter-gatherers mastered a very wide variety of skills in order to survive, which is why it would be immensely difficult to design a robotic hunter-gatherer. Such a robot would have to know how to prepare spear points from flint stones, how to find edible mushrooms in a forest, how to use medicinal herbs to bandage a wound, how to track down a mammoth and how to coordinate a charge with a dozen other hunters. However, over the last few thousand years we humans have been specialising. A taxi driver or a cardiologist specialises in a much narrower niche than a hunter-gatherer, which makes it easier to replace them with AI.

Even the managers in charge of all these activities can be replaced. Thanks to its powerful algorithms, Uber can manage millions of taxi drivers with only a handful of humans. Most of the commands are given by the algorithms without any need of human supervision. In May 2014 Deep Knowledge Ventures – a Hong Kong venture-capital firm specialising in regenerative medicine – broke new ground by appointing an algorithm called VITAL to its board. VITAL makes investment recommendations by analysing huge amounts of data on the financial situation, clinical trials and intellectual property of prospective companies. Like the other five board members, the algorithm gets to vote on whether the firm makes an investment in a specific company or not.

Examining VITAL’s record so far, it seems that it has already picked up one managerial vice: nepotism. It has recommended investing in companies that grant algorithms more authority. With VITAL’s blessing, Deep Knowledge Ventures has recently invested in Silico Medicine, which develops computer-assisted methods for drug research, and in Pathway Pharmaceuticals, which employs a platform called OncoFinder to select and rate personalised cancer therapies.

As algorithms push humans out of the job market, wealth might become concentrated in the hands of the tiny elite that owns the all-powerful algorithms, creating unprecedented social inequality. Alternatively, the algorithms might not only manage businesses, but actually come to own them. At present, human law already recognises intersubjective entities like corporations and nations as ‘legal persons’. Though Toyota or Argentina has neither a body nor a mind, they are subject to international laws, they can own land and money, and they can sue and be sued in court. We might soon grant similar status to algorithms. An algorithm could then own a venture-capital fund without having to obey the wishes of any human master.

If the algorithm makes the right decisions, it could accumulate a fortune, which it could then invest as it sees fit, perhaps buying your house and becoming your landlord. If you infringe on the algorithm’s legal rights – say, by not paying rent – the algorithm could hire lawyers and sue you in court. If such algorithms consistently outperform human fund managers, we might end up with an algorithmic upper class owning most of our planet. This may sound impossible, but before dismissing the idea, remember that most of our planet is already legally owned by non-human inter-subjective entities, namely nations and corporations. Indeed, 5,000 years ago much of Sumer was owned by imaginary gods such as Enki and Inanna. If gods can possess land and employ people, why not algorithms?

So what will people do? Art is often said to provide us with our ultimate (and uniquely human) sanctuary. In a world where computers replace doctors, drivers, teachers and even landlords, everyone would become an artist. Yet it is hard to see why artistic creation will be safe from the algorithms. Why are we so sure computers will be unable to better us in the composition of music? According to the life sciences, art is not the product of some enchanted spirit or metaphysical soul, but rather of organic algorithms recognising mathematical patterns. If so, there is no reason why non-organic algorithms couldn’t master it.

David Cope is a musicology professor at the University of California in Santa Cruz. He is also one of the more controversial figures in the world of classical music. Cope has written programs that compose concertos, chorales, symphonies and operas. His first creation was named EMI (Experiments in Musical Intelligence), which specialised in imitating the style of Johann Sebastian Bach. It took seven years to create the program, but once the work was done, EMI composed 5,000 chorales à la Bach in a single day. Cope arranged a performance of a few select chorales in a music festival at Santa Cruz. Enthusiastic members of the audience praised the wonderful performance, and explained excitedly how the music touched their innermost being. They didn’t know it was composed by EMI rather than Bach, and when the truth was revealed, some reacted with glum silence, while others shouted in anger.

EMI continued to improve, and learned to imitate Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninov and Stravinsky. Cope got EMI a contract, and its first album – Classical Music Composed by Computer – sold surprisingly well. Publicity brought increasing hostility from classical-music buffs. Professor Steve Larson from the University of Oregon sent Cope a challenge for a musical showdown. Larson suggested that professional pianists play three pieces one after the other: one by Bach, one by EMI, and one by Larson himself. The audience would then be asked to vote who composed which piece. Larson was convinced people would easily tell the difference between soulful human compositions, and the lifeless artefact of a machine. Cope accepted the challenge. On the appointed date, hundreds of lecturers, students and music fans assembled in the University of Oregon’s concert hall. At the end of the performance, a vote was taken. The result? The audience thought that EMI’s piece was genuine Bach, that Bach’s piece was composed by Larson, and that Larson’s piece was produced by a computer.

Critics continued to argue that EMI’s music is technically excellent, but that it lacks something. It is too accurate. It has no depth. It has no soul. Yet when people heard EMI’s compositions without being informed of their provenance, they frequently praised them precisely for their soulfulness and emotional resonance.

Following EMI’s successes, Cope created newer and even more sophisticated programs. His crowning achievement was Annie. Whereas EMI composed music according to predetermined rules, Annie is based on machine learning. Its musical style constantly changes and develops in reaction to new inputs from the outside world. Cope has no idea what Annie is going to compose next. Indeed, Annie does not restrict itself to music composition but also explores other art forms such as haiku poetry. In 2011 Cope published Comes the Fiery Night: 2,000 Haiku by Man and Machine. Of the 2,000 haikus in the book, some are written by Annie, and the rest by organic poets. The book does not disclose which are which. If you think you can tell the difference between human creativity and machine output, you are welcome to test your claim.

In the nineteenth century the Industrial Revolution created a huge new class of urban proletariats, in the twenty-first century we might witness the creation of a new massive class: people devoid of any economic, political or even artistic value, who contribute nothing to the prosperity, power and glory of society.

In September 2013 two Oxford researchers, Carl Benedikt Frey and Michael A. Osborne, published ‘The Future of Employment’, in which they surveyed the likelihood of different professions being taken over by computer algorithms within the next twenty years. The algorithm developed by Frey and Osborne to do the calculations estimated that 47 per cent of US jobs are at high risk. For example, there is a 99 per cent probability that by 2033 human telemarketers and insurance underwriters will lose their jobs to algorithms. There is a 98 per cent probability that the same will happen to sports referees, 97 per cent that it will happen to cashiers and 96 per cent to chefs. Waiters – 94 per cent. Paralegal assistants – 94 per cent. Tour guides – 91 per cent. Bakers – 89 per cent. Bus drivers – 89 per cent. Construction labourers – 88 per cent. Veterinary assistants – 86 per cent. Security guards – 84 per cent. Sailors – 83 per cent. Bartenders – 77 per cent. Archivists – 76 per cent. Carpenters – 72 per cent. Lifeguards – 67 per cent. And so forth. There are of course some safe jobs. The likelihood that computer algorithms will displace archaeologists by 2033 is only 0.7 per cent, because their job requires highly sophisticated types of pattern recognition, and doesn’t produce huge profits. Hence it is improbable that corporations or government will make the necessary investment to automate archaeology within the next twenty years.

Of course, by 2033 many new professions are likely to appear, for example, virtual-world designers. But such professions will probably require much more creativity and flexibility than your run-of-the-mill job, and it is unclear whether forty-year-old cashiers or insurance agents will be able to reinvent themselves as virtual-world designers (just try to imagine a virtual world created by an insurance agent!). And even if they do so, the pace of progress is such that within another decade they might have to reinvent themselves yet again. After all, algorithms might well outperform humans in designing virtual worlds too. The crucial problem isn’t creating new jobs. The crucial problem is creating new jobs that humans perform better than algorithms.

- Yuval Noah Harari, The Great Decoupling in Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow

#yuval noah harari #the great decoupling #homo deus: a brief history of tomorrow #homo deus

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peakyposts · 5 years

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Facing Realities

Isaiah Jesus x Chadda Samra (oc)

Chadda, Finn and Isaiah have been best friends for as long as they can remember. However, after years of joking around and family expectations, a relationship forms between them that doesn’t sit well with every party in their little group of friends and family.

a/n: instead of a multi-chapter fic I’m just going to post a bunch of headcanons and short fics like this for these two. They’re all going to be interconnected but probably not chronological. You can find any content related to these to in the isaiah jesus x chadda samra tag.

In this fic: Chadda faces some trouble at school and Isaiah helps her through it.

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Chadda never really knew what it meant to be a person of colour in a white world. She’d grown up with a Shelby at her side, so no one ever bothered her or her family about where they’d come from or the colour of their skin. No one even tried, too afraid of what the city’s worst family would do to them if they did. She thought she was safe with Finn, safe with the Shelby family with her; it’s what her mother had always told her. It was really the only reason, she suspected, that her mother even let her be friends with him. For a long time, she was safe.

Chadda learned what it meant to be a person of colour in a white world. She grew older, started noticing the looks she received, heard the quiet comments people made, and realized why her parents’ businesses weren’t making as much money as all of the rest, even though their services were as good as any other in the city. But it wasn’t until the girls at her school realized her Peaky boys had no authority on their grounds did Chadda realize how they really felt towards her. Though they were never violent at school, Chadda learned that girls fought better with their words, something she wasn’t used to considering who her friends were. She was used to witnessing fist fights.

She’d just been lounging against a tree when she noticed the sun’s disappearance. It was replaced by the shadows of two girls. They said nothing at first, but then when she looked up and tried to stand, she was quickly pushed right back down. That was the first shock, because the girls who liked to bother her had never laid a hand on her, they’d made a point years ago saying that they didn’t want to contract any foreign germs she had. These girls didn’t seem to care.

“You’re not meant to be here, Sam,” one of the girls said, spitting out her name as if was poison in her mouth. “You should be inside, you’re burnt as it is, aren’t you?” The girls weren’t even in her class (they were two years younger) but the fact that they knew her was no surprise. There were only a handful of people who looked like her in all of Birmingham. She just watched as the girls laughed, thinking their joke was funny. The second girl looked down at her, and before Chadda could react, the book in her hands was swiped. She still did not stand though, knowing that anything she did to stand up for herself could be turned into a strike against her.

She said nothing, which only seemed to provoke some more laughter from the duo. Chadda resisted the urge to cringe. That sound was directed at her much too often, and she was beginning to hate it. The girls continued to speak, poking fun and pointing fingers, making fun of everything from her darker features to her unfashionably long hair, things she had no control over, be it because of biology or her cultural expectations, things these girls would never understand themselves. But she stayed seated. Stayed calm. Her mother had warned her about engaging, and she would rather take the insults than bare the truth of what her mother had warned her about. That anything she did to these girls would result in a punishment much worse than they could ever imagine. It was almost ten minutes later when the girls seemed to lighten up, getting bored of having no reaction, and Chadda smirked to herself when she realized she hadn’t given them the satisfaction of getting one.

“Whatever, just stay outside where you can get as dark as a nig—”

“Shut up!”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought before she opened her mouth. She was supposed to stay quiet, give them no reason to go running to one of the teachers. But the word they were about to use set her off, and she couldn’t help it. She could only watch their expressions change from surprise to anger, and before Chadda realized what was happening, she felt a sharp pain just above her brow, the sharp corner of her stolen book breaking skin. Slowly, she brought her hand up to her forehead, taking in a shaky breath when she felt something wet sliding down the side of her face. She’d been in fights before but never had she been attacked so directly, every fight she’d ever been in was just because of association. Never in her life had she had something thrown at her for just speaking. Too shocked by it, she didn’t notice the girls running off, only noticed the looks she was receiving from the people around who saw what had just happened.

“Sam, you alright?”

She didn’t bother looking towards whoever called to her, just stood silently, holding back tears as she made her way off the school grounds, not even bothering to tell anyone she was leaving.

Sam made her way home first, but skipped her own front door when she got to it. What would her mother say if she walked in now? She’d probably just get angry with her for leaving school early and would send her right back. Instead, she walked further up the street, right to the betting shop. Without waiting for the crowd of men to move, she pushed through, ignoring their shouts of protest as she entered and ignored the questioning looks she received from the girls who sat around at their desks. Not bothering to explain to anyone who watched her, she ran straight up the stairs.

It was only when she shut the door to Finn’s bedroom did she finally let herself cry. Chadda usually never cried. She refused to cry. She was stronger than that. Her parents raised her to be stronger than that. Sliding down the closed door, she drew her knees up to her chest and just stared down at the book she still had clutched in her hands.

“Sam?”

She ignored it.

“Sam, open the door.”

“I’m changing my clothes.”

“You’re sitting on the floor. I can see under the door.”

“Just leave me—”

“I’m not letting Finn come home to find you crying alone in his room, so open the fucking door, Chadda.”

Slowly, she stood, taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm her. It seemed that she’d held in everything for so long that the moment she started crying she just couldn’t seem to stop. Even when she opened the door, the tears still flowed and Isaiah didn’t wait a second before pulling her into his arms. There was still the cut on her forehead, her cheeks were all wet, and she was ruining his shirt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Do you wanna sit down?” He spoke softly. She’d never heard him sound like that before and it only made her cry harder. “Okay, we’re sitting down, c’mon.”

She must have looked stupid. She felt stupid. Especially since it was Isaiah’s shoulder she was bawling her eyes out into. She wasn’t the only one who was on the receiving end of comments like those, and Isaiah had it much worse than her. Whenever he wasn’t with the other boys he was constantly being the victim to racial attacks and provocation. She bet he never sat in his best friend’s room crying about it. She felt Isaiah’s hand rubbing up and down her back, felt his other cupping the back of her head, and when she finally took a deep breath to help calm herself down, she realized she was sitting on his lap. But she didn’t feel the need to move.

“Will you tell me what happened now? You have everyone worrying downstairs.”

Chadda hummed, sniffling as she straightened enough to look at him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet, barely loud enough for herself to hear. “They threw the book at me.” It had fallen on the floor at some point, and Chadda sniffed again when Isaiah leaned down to pick it up. He flipped it in his hand, a frown forming on his face and Chadda couldn’t figure out why she felt the need to cheer him up instead.

“Who? And why?”

“Why does it matter? Planning to jump a couple of seventeen year old girls?” Despite her wet cheeks and bleeding forehead, she offered a weak smile. However, all it caused was a deeper frown on Isaiah’s face.

“This isn’t funny, Sam.”

“They said things.”

“What things?”

She could feel her eyes pricking again and without really thinking she started playing with his tie to distract herself, trying to keep herself from crying again. The last thing she wanted to do was cry.

“Said I shouldn’t be out in the sun, they, uhm, said my skin was dark enough and if I didn’t go back inside I would start,” she took a deep breath, “start looking like a—” She didn’t want to say it, couldn’t say it. But by the look on Isaiah’s face, Chadda knew he understood. He nodded, and his eyes moved to where his hand was still clutching the book.

“I’m sorry.”

Chadda shook her head, and she was quick to tilt his chin up to look at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, those girls don’t know anything.”

“They hate people like me, not you, if it wasn’t for—”

“No.” Isaiah stared at her, and Chadda didn’t take her eyes off of him. “This is not your fault. It’s just them, all of them.”

“They hurt you,” he whispered, and Chadda couldn’t help but close her eyes when his thumb ran over the cut. “It shouldn’t have happened.” Her eyes were still closed when he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “Especially not to you.” If they weren’t sitting so close she wouldn’t have heard him say it. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. The only people who care about the colour of your skin don’t really matter at all. You’re still smarter than all of them combined, funnier too, and no matter what you’re the most beautiful person in any room. So, whatever they say is completely irrelevant since they can never compare.”

When she opened her eyes he was staring so intently at her, his hand frozen where it stayed pressed against her. It was only a minute that they sat like that but it was enough time for Chadda to remember where they were. She cleared her throat, and it was enough to snap Isaiah out of whatever he was thinking of doing. They were on Finn’s bed, dealing with something far too serious for this to be happening at all. She moved his hands as she stood, but she watched as he slowly took hold of one of hers and squeezed it. She smiled, for real this time, and Isaiah smiled back.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It was that moment the door swung open, and their hands dropped instantly. Finn said nothing before pulling Chadda into his arms, not needing any reason other than the knowledge that she had been crying. She heard Isaiah stand up, and when she peeked an eye open he only smiled and offered a nod before slipping out of the door.

“Are you okay?” Chadda nodded, looking up at Finn with a small smile. “Are you sure? I was told you—”

“I’m fine, Finn, really,” she assured him, “just need some patching up and I’ll be back to the Sam you know and love.”

“Okay, good.” He leaned down and pecked her lips. “Okay, let's go find you a bandage for your head.”

#peaky blinders #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus x chadda samra #chadda samra #isaiah jesus x oc #mine

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skinnedhearts · 4 years

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one sided compromise

As per his side of the agreement with Anzu, Asya manages to gather an unsuspecting Micah into following him home to join for band practice.

Their lives were kinda messed up, when he thought about it. To live in a world where for about 18 years of your life, give or take, you obliged with nothing but a bell to direct you through the course of half your day--- five times a week. In a total of 45 minutes, Monday through Friday, the process was the same in the very last period before classes officially ended until inevitably they were all forced to come back to repeat when the sun rose once more. Truly, their lives were messed up.

Gaze directed away from the outside world where seagulls fought on their campus grounds over scraps of food leftover from lunch and trees lightly swayed in the breeze that was rapidly increasing in heat and dying out, Asya focused between only two things during homeroom period: the world outside and the very slowly ticking clock that rang their dismissal. Time to head home was nearing soon and a change besides the seasons was waiting outside, today marked the start of their band practice with a new member, one that Asya still couldn’t say he was all too thrilled to have.

He supposed, with a thought he’d never speak out loud, that despite his distaste it was still very calming on his nerves to get an eager phone call from Wamu exclaiming in his ear and asking how he managed to get Anzu to agree to join them again. The moment only lasted but a minute before the excitement then turned into a scolding in the shape of a contract making Asya swear that he wasn’t going to blow this great shot their band had regained once more.

It sucked.

Still, the details on the reintroduction of Anzu into their still very much unnamed band were ones that Asya swore would solely remain between him and Anzu alone. They were simply ones he wasn’t all too thrilled to have agreed to, but again, the deadline for what could be their band’s big break was coming soon; guilt would simply have to be an emotion he dealt with sooner or later… preferably later.

The bell rings and just like puppets latched onto strings do all his classmates rise from their seats, and just like the usual routine that enslaved all their lives, does their teacher call out in sermon how the bell doesn’t dismiss the class, they do. Asya merely scoffs and shoves his phone in his pocket, rising from his seat and throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

Pure autopilot drives him through the crowded halls where the occasional students bump into him, where the occasional students pause in the middle of the hall and block the path, and where the occasional students make Asya want to shove them to the side to get them out of the way before he self combusts and from his ashes burns the entire school to the ground. How he couldn’t wait to never have to come back here again, this last year of high school simply couldn’t go by fast enough. Eventually, through the struggle and pain of his personal space constantly being invaded, does Asya reach his locker where all he needs to do is switch out a couple of things, and it’s freedom to the sanctuary of his garage for the day--- freedom to pound away his stress onto his drums.

A pause.

That’s right… going home alone wasn’t an option today no matter how desperately he wanted to get out and it seemed like just this once, was life willing to shine down on his social and school life. From the end of the hall, detaching himself from a crowd of students who begged him not to go, did Micah pop out with a grin and promise of staying next time for a club he wasn’t even a part of. Asya simply could not relate to that life of constant attention nor did he wish to, ironic for someone who was part of a band.

“You’re still here!” An array of pats come down on Asya’s back when Micah lightly jogs over to his side, face flushed in a rosy hue and constellation of freckles, hair absolutely ruffled with green curls both framing his face and sticking out in wild directions. “I was hoping to catch you before you bolted out of here.”

As per usual, the whispers between students occur all around them when they catch sight of Micah and Asya together. And as per usual, Asya has gotten used to them after so long, that he no longer pays attention to the way people question the sight of the two side by side. He remembers freshman year, before schedules got busy and his time with Micah became sparse. He remembers the time they’d spend together before tennis was a thing and the band was just a pastime that eventually became a serious dream. Asya still recalls the sudden weight that had leapt onto his back in pure excitement as Micah’s voice rang loud in his ear over still being able to recognize him after years of not having seen each other.

“Funny. You saved me the struggle of having to go look for you, was just about to head to the tennis courts too.”

“Oh,” There was a bashful grin on Micah’s face as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m actually taking the next two weeks off tennis. Talked to the coach beforehand to find someone else to captain for me, I really need the time after school to study for some exams coming up and I ain’t doing too hot. Good thing our season just ended too, so I won’t fall too behind on practice if I miss the upcoming sessions.”

“I’m not tutoring you.” Asya slams his locker shut, backpack once more being thrown over his shoulder to turn on his heel and face Micah’s pouting and annoyed face, “If that’s why you were seeking me out in the first place, the answer is no.”

“Harsh, but that’s not it!”

Despite their scattered time together in comparison to before, the habit was still the same as they fell into place and began their walk home. Silence from Asya’s side and passing conversations from Micah’s, a few more scattered comments here and there…

“Are they walking home together?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, they just happen to be heading the same way.”

“I hope Micah is alright… haven’t you heard the curse that Kier guy carries? Hang out with him and you might as well decide yourself friendless.”

“That explains why he’s rarely seen around others.”

How years hearing ridiculous high school words make you numb of them by the time you’re ready to get out of here.

“I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out after you drop your stuff off at home.” Micah spoke up, now to Asya, the moment they were alone and outside the school gates far from crowds that gave Asya nothing but headaches, “I know it’s last minute, but it’s been awhile since we’ve hung out. Thought it’d be nice to chill somewhere, maybe catch a movie or hit the arcade. Bet I can still kick your ass at the shooting games.”

“And this is your version of studying?” An accusatory raised brow to which Micah scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out.

“It ain’t like I won’t be sat down later with some boring tutor to go over my notes with.” There’s a weird sadness of sorts in Micah’s defeated shrug to which Asya isn’t sure how to go about. They lived in completely different worlds, to Asya, it was complicated to know how to provide Micah any comfort when certain things Micah would feel, could simply not be relatable to Asya. “It’s cool if you can’t find any time today though. Like I said, it was some last minute plan.”

“You could just come over to my place instead to watch the band practice and hang out.”

Almost as if vines sprouted from the cracks of the sidewalk pavement and wrapped around Micah’s ankles, did he stop walking alongside Asya and hang behind to which Asya himself took a pause to glance at Micah over his shoulder. There was a warm hue to the sight of Micah blinking in surprise, the early setting sun casted an orange tone behind him like a halo to his warm sun kissed skin and contrasted against his green curls like an array of trees being glowed down upon by the sun.

“Really?” The question comes out in a whisper of surprise, “I kinda never really thought I’d end up being invited back into your place after the whole mess happened last time with the fit my folks threw.”

Ah, yes. Asya’s face twisted in distaste, he vividly remembered the way Micah had curiously picked up a guitar in amazement during their break time. At the time, he was warned about the guitar he had picked up, it being a spare one out of the many bunch that Tea sometimes liked to collect much to Poppy’s dismay over them sitting there gathering dust. The simple reason of them being due to how fragile the guitar was, age also being a thing that chips away at the chords and wood. But at the time, Micah had also gleamed in a smile that reassured it would be fine. He struck a cord, nothing happened. He played a random variety of notes without any specific tune, it was all fine. It wasn’t until he decided to play with it in a way of striking down on the strings the very same way it’s seen by rockers, that two weak strings reached their limit and snapped.

The sight was a bloody one to behold and if Asya were to lift Micah’s wrist and peek at it, he could still see the scar around his wrist, thumb, and index finger all on Micah’s hand where the cords had furiously lashed out. Needless to say, Micah’s parents were furious when Tea had called them up to explain what had happened and refused to have Micah ever step foot again into Asya’s house for fear of next time: Micah losing his entire hand. An exaggeration that had Asya fuming for weeks at having his family called dangerous and uneducated and Micah swarmed with guilt at the offense his parents had caused.

A situation like that had caused tension between the two boys for a while, for how does one go about having your family insulted so violently over a situation that you didn’t even start and you had warned about. Asya knew his anger was just slightly misplaced and Micah was not the one that had scorned out such words, but there was still a bitter twist in the pit of his stomach at the thought that if Micah had listened, then he wouldn’t have had to watch the way Tea calmly guided Poppy away from Micah’s very upstuck parents sticking their noses in the air and calling the band a bunch of hooligans and their guardians good for nothing.

So it was very much to Asya’s surprise when Micah still showed up a sudden day after school, drenched in rain and eyes blown wide from surprise over his own action of running out of the school campus instead of waiting for his usual ride home, to breathlessly apologize for not having listened when he should have. The apology had come out in a rush to which Asya couldn’t understand half of it, but it was enough to drench out the anger directed towards Micah for the incident.

Your parents are still shit.

And I am not gonna refuse you on that matter, dude.

“You can come,” Asya reassured, cutting his past reminiscing short with a nudge of his head signaling Micah to keep walking after him. “But you’re not touching any instruments.”

“Damn, and here I was hoping to get my hands on your drums this time.”

“Yeah, real funny, aren’t you?”

A grin and Micah playfully nudged Asya with his elbow to which Asya blocked with his hand. And as the sun kept setting and their shadows kept expanding outwards in front of them, did their laughter and conversation blend into the start of the evening with one unaware of the sight that was to come and the other hoping the upcoming situation wouldn’t be one to backfire on their friendship.

#micah #asya #Static Heart

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