#also i think them not being deathly pale and practically glowing would have been a better design choice

[fallowfrog]

rukkhadevata and her children 🌱

[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

tag list: @jikooksgirl19 @sicnesa @buzzyourgirlfriendwoof @deepdarkdelights @iamnamjoonsbxtch @4evahevah @moon8child

[nitewrighter]

Gency Week Day 5: Aurora

Me, making yet another Baihu/Valkyrie AU that has absolutely nothing to do with that smut I wrote 2 years ago: I just think they’re neat.

Skyrim-ish Fantasy AU where Mercy and Genji might as well be airbrushed on the side of a van.

With special guest appearances by Rime Sigma and Rime Sombra.

----

The Valkyrie held her heavy-bladed staff aloft, its blades spiraling around a small sphere of yellowish light illuminating her path through the ice caves. Only the most fearless of adventurers made it this far into the mountains of Thornspire, and only the madmen ventured this far into their caves. Her eyes flicked around warily at the flickering lights against the icy walls of the tunnels. It was deathly cold, and she had her large wheat-and-ivory colored wings folded about herself as a feathery cloak for warmth. She heard some pebbles scatter around a corner of the ice tunnel and her breath caught in her throat. She dimmed the light on the end of her staff with a whisper and did her best to make her footsteps as silent as possible. Distorted by a pane of thick ice, she made out a dark quadrupedal shape. Her body tensed, but she edged forward, rolling her grip on her staff. she saw the dark shape round the corner and she moved to raise her staff defensively, but glowing ice blue eyes caught her in their sharp sights and the great creature pounced with a rumbling snarl in its throat. It apparently caught sight of her weapon as its great paw pads made contact against the handle of her staff, shoving it against herself as she tumbled backward with its great weight and momentum. Mercy grunted as her back hit the ground, and her eyes opened to see a silver and black striped face and great white fangs inches from her nose. A tiger, far larger than any natural tiger had any right to be, rumbled over her, its massive paws pinning her to the floor of the tunnel.

Her breath fogged out of her with alarm before she furrowed her brow at the tiger.

“Don’t scare me like that!” she scolded and the tiger pulled its paws off of her staff, rearing back onto its haunches at her voice, “I thought you were an owlbear!”

“I thought you were a draugr,” said the tiger as whorls of icy blue light spiraled around it, coiling tight and shrinking its form until they disappeared in a flurry of blue-white sparkles, revealing a scarred man in fur-lined silver armor straddling her.

“A draugr!?” Mercy said, insulted, as she sat up, “You’re a tiger! You can see in the dark!”

“Your wings were folded in! It was instinct! And for the record, splitting up at that last fork in the tunnel was your idea,” said Genji, folding his arms. Mercy cleared her throat and Genji realized he was still straddling her. “Oh--um,” he stood up and held a hand up to her, helping her to her feet.

 “Well, at least we know the fork just rejoins,” she said, looking down the tunnel.

 He looked at her, “I don’t like the smell of this place,” he said quietly, “Are you sure the amulet of auroras is in here?”

“The strix said it would be in the deepest cave on the highest peak. I’m pretty sure this is the right cave,” said Mercy, flicking a magelight back onto the end of her staff, “What do you smell?”

Genji sniffed the air suspiciously, his pupils slitted with shrewdness. “I... I don’t know,” he said quietly, “But I don’t like it.”

“Maybe you’ve been here before!” said Mercy, shouldering her illuminated staff and continuing down the tunnel.

“Maybe...” said Genji, walking after her with one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Are you all right?” she glanced back at him.

“I’m fine,” he said a bit stiffly.

“Genji,” her shoulders slumped with concern.

“It’s just--we’ve been adventuring for a few months, right? We work good together, right?”

“A skilled swordsman who also happens to be a giant tiger is pretty handy to have on your side in a fight,” said Mercy with a slight smile.

“I like who I am with you--I mean, who I am now! Is it that necessary to find out who I was before that?” said Genji.

“You were nearly dead when I found you. For all we know you could still be in danger from whatever put you in that state,” said Mercy, “And it could be a whole new adventure! What if you have family worrying about you right now?”

“You want to meet my family?” said Genji, tilting his head. Mercy reddened and her shoulders bunched up slightly as she pivoted on her heel to face him.

“You should want to meet your family,” said Mercy, playfully poking two fingers against the visor of his helmet.

“Tigers are solitary,” said Genji, putting his other hand on his hip.

“Right, you just keep me around because you want to eat me,” said Mercy with a smirk, continuing down the tunnel.

“Don’t tempt me,” said Genji, walking after her with a grin and a slight rumble in his throat.

“You’ll have a lot of plucking to do,” said Mercy, readjusting her wings on her shoulders.

“And you’re probably gamey anyways,” said Genji, strolling up next to her, she snorted and elbowed him but her snickers quickly faded away as the tunnel opened up from a narrow pathway of ice into a massive stone corridor with buttresses intricately carved into the likenesses of dragons, tigers, eagles, and wolves.

“...looks like we’re in the right cave...” said Mercy, brightening the magelight on her staff to get a better look at the corridor. There were empty sconces on the buttresses and a great empty brazier midway through the grand hall, but Mercy seemed more interested in the frescoes on the wall, leaning her magelight closer and squinting at them. There were lines of ancient writing long forgotten hewn into the stone, but being unable to read them, Mercy just squinted at the carvings, depicting four figures. 

“Eagle, Wolf, Dragon, Tiger,” said Mercy, she looked back at Genji, “Tiger!” she said, pointing to the tiger carving while grinning at him.

Genji looked at her a little helplessly.

“This doesn’t... make you remember anything?” said Mercy, still pointing at the carving, “Nothing at all?”

Genji shook his head.

Mercy sighed, “I suppose it’s probably just coincidence, then...” she murmured. 

“It’s probably more like what you said when we met. I’m just a druid,” said Genji, “Lots of druids probably take the shape of tigers. They’re strong. It’s practical.”

“None of the druids I know,” said Mercy, walking on.

“...oh,” said Genji. He squinted at the tiger carving in the light fading with Mercy’s distance. “You know, this might not even be a tiger. There are wildcats everywhere, it’s not necessarily--” He absentmindedly touched the tiger carving and flinched back as it took on the same ice-blue glow as his eyes, “Um... Valkyrie?” 

Mercy turned around and gasped as the entire frescoe set itself ablaze in a blue glow. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember any spells!” said Mercy as the blue light flared along all of the frescoes’ outlines.

“I don’t!” said Genji as the light bounced from the wall to one of the sconces on the buttresses, then sprang like a fish from sconce to sconce, lighting up the entire corridor in a ghostly blue light.

“Genji, you’ve definitely been in this place before,” said Mercy.

“We don’t know that for sure!” said Genji on reflex.

 The little blue blaze bounced from the last sconce in a high arc and hit the brazier at the center of the room, blazing into a great blue fire. The great fire in the brazier spiraled and curved like those same silvery lights around Genji when he shifted from tiger to man.

“Get behind me,” Genji spoke on reflex, stepping in front of mercy.

“Tiger of the West Wind! Light-footed Dancer! The hunter in the snow! Our brother has finally returned!” a mischievous voice bounced off the walls of the corridor before the flames in the brazier spun themselves into the shape of a blue-skinned white haired woman donning clothes spiked like icicles, her arms thrown up into the air with grandeur. She opened her eyes and gave an unimpressed look to Mercy, “...and his guest, I guess,” she said with a shrug and an obligatory gesture at Mercy.

“...Brother?” said Genji, helplessly.

Mercy gave him a ‘Are you kidding me’ look and Genji immediately regretted saying ‘We don’t know that for sure.’

“Man, the Eastern wind really did a number on you, didn’t he?” said the blue-skinned woman, hopping down from the brazier, “I guess that’s the only way one of us would be caught dead hanging around with an einherjar groupie, huh?”

“An einherjar what?!” Mercy’s feathers fluffed out with fury.

“The Valkyrie is my companion,” said Genji, “She rescued me. I would ask that she be treated with the same respect you’re showing me.”

“We’re winds, we don’t show respect. We blow on kings and paupers alike,” said the blue-skinned woman with a shrug.

“’We?’” Genji repeated, “I’m a wind?”

 “I just said you’re the West Wind! What kind of brother are you!?” said the blue-skinned woman. She studied Genji’s face. Genji looked blankly back at her. “You don’t remember me? At all?! Dragon of the South Wind? Bringer of the Autumn frost? Tree shaker? Ship-breaker?!”

“I--Um... You seem very memorable?” said Genji.

“Ugh,” the South Wind slumped her shoulders with exasperation, “Maybe the North Wind will know what to do with you,” she said before snapping her fingers.

“Wait--” Genji and Mercy started at the same time but suddenly they were caught up in a great spiraling flurry of silvery snowflakes until they found themselves in a vast and bleak icy throne room. Seated upon a throne of glassy black ice was a broad-shouldered man with shoulder-length white hair, pale blue-gray skin, a hawkish nose, and those same ice-blue eyes as Genji. Around his neck, a bright amulet glowed in green and blue and pink.

“...the amulet,” Mercy whispered to Genji, and Genji could only dumbly nod.

“North Wind!” the South Wind threw up her arms, “Bone-chiller! Swift-flier! Our brother has returned!”

“Brother,” said the man on the throne, “It’s been too long.” He gave a cold glance at Mercy standing next to him. “And who is this?”

“I am the Valkyrie Mercy,” said Mercy stepping forward, “Genji and I have been trav--”

“Genji?” said the North Wind, looking around, “Who is Genji?”

“...I’m Genji,” said Genji, “Well, that’s what I call myself.”

“A name?” the South Wind snorted and burst out laughing, “You gave yourself a name!?”

“Am I... not supposed to have one?” said Genji.

”Winds have no need of such things,” said the North Wind, with a scoff, “Then again, you always were difficult. Even now you seek to bring your paramours into halls forbidden to them. ”

“Para--” Genji started and then gave a glance back to Mercy.

“Oh--we’re not---” Mercy started, reddening.

“Could be worse,” said the South Wind, who had apparently made her way behind Mercy and was now unfolding one of her wings, “Could be a garden-variety mortal.”

Mercy yanked her wing out of the South Wind’s grip and the South Wind put her hands up in a playful ‘I didn’t do anything’ gesture before nimbly bounding to the side of the North Wind’s throne.

“I meant no offense,” said Genji, “As we were saying the Valkyrie rescued me when I was severely injured and near death, but... when she healed me I had no memory of who I was before. Legend says the Amulet of Auroras could restore people and things to states once lost. We came here in the hopes that it might restore my memory.”

The South Wind snorted incredulously. “The amulet can only work its magic once every thousand years! You think we’d use that kind of magic just because you and East had another little squabble? You fight all the time!”

“So it was the East Wind that did this to me,” said Genji, looking down.

“Where is the East Wind?” said Mercy, looking around.

“You will teach your guest to hold her tongue--” The North Wind started.

“She is my companion,” said Genji, “And I would ask that myself. Where is the East Wind?”

“Out,” said the South Wind with a shrug.

“Out... where?” said Genji.

“Where he pleases,” said the North Wind, examining his claws that glittered with that same black ice as his throne, “As is his nature.”

“Well, perhaps he can be called here?” said Mercy.

“No one summons the winds,” said the North Wind.

“Did you not seek me out when he returned and I did not?” said Genji.

“No,” said the North Wind.

“Did the East Wind face any punishment for the harm he inflicted?” said Mercy.

“Why punish what is well within our nature?” said the South Wind.

“Your fights are your business,” said the North Wind, apparently bored.

“...you didn’t know where I was, you were in possession of something that could help me, but you didn’t look for me?” said Genji.

“You’re a Wind,” said the North Wind with a toss of his hand, “You didn’t need my help. You found your way back.”

“I was scared and lost and lonely for months!” said Genji. 

“Because you were among mortals,” said the North Wind, “You contracted their mannerisms like a disease. Fear, loss, loneliness,” he gave a derisive glance to Mercy, “Attachment. Even now your line of questions is inane.”

 “You didn’t understand how above them you were,” said the South Wind with a shrug, “How above them we are.”

“How are you above them?!” said Mercy.

“We’re the winds,” said the South Wind with a laugh, as if Mercy was speaking nonsense, “We have power they can only dream of.”

“Power does not speak to worthiness,” said Mercy, her grip tightening on her staff.

“You will not speak with such insolence as long as you are a guest in these halls,” said the North Wind. 

“Valkyries,” said the South Wind pityingly, “Always getting so worked up and weepy over mortals. ‘Worthiness’ is a term those same mortals invented to cope with their own weakness.”

“You know nothing of worthiness! Mortals are good and kind to each other because they have so little power! Because it’s all they can do in their power to try and make things easier for each other! That is not weakness!” 

“Silence your guest,” said the North Wind, looking to Genji.

“She speaks the truth,” said Genji, “Besides, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Mercy huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Then apparently East’s lesson didn’t sink in,” said the South Wind, needle-like fangs growing in her mouth.

“Genji--” Mercy said his name in warning.

“Winds don’t have names!” said the South Wind, silver-blue light spiraling around her and concealing her form. 

She’s transforming, Mercy realized, Like Genji.

The mass of spiraling light suddenly lunged at them and Mercy stepped in front of Genji and caught the newly-transformed Wyvern’s teeth on the handle of her staff before the South Wind could bite into her.

“Genji, just get the amulet!” said Mercy, smacking the Wyvern’s head a side with a hard swing of her staff.

Genji gave her a single nod and drew his sword, charging toward the throne, only to be knocked back by a massive chunk of ice, his sword clattering to the side of him.

“Well you may have forgotten us, but you haven’t forgotten your impertinence,” said the North Wind, pushing up off of his throne. 

Genji pushed up from the floor and took the form of a tiger, charging the North Wind again, this time nimbly dodging the hunks of ice being thrown at him and springing with fangs bared. The North Wind caught his teeth on his black vambraces and furrowed his brow at him, before casting Genji off and taking the form of an eagle, sweeping up and out of his reach.

“Valkyrie!” he called to Mercy. Mercy was parrying the fangs of the South Wind with her staff, but she managed to look at him, “Switch?!”

Mercy’s eyes flicked up to the eagle flying overhead and she gave Genji a nod before Genji sprang onto the South Wind’s back, slashing at her wings as she struck at him like a snake with her long neck. 

Mercy’s wings kicked a puff of diamond dust up off the floor as she sprang up into flight towards the great white-plumed eagle with glowing ice-blue eyes. The eagle screeched and dove for her, talons outstretched, but she narrowly dipped out of the way. She blocked his talons and razor sharp beak with short motions of her sword. She looked at the glowing amulet around the eagle’s neck, and her brow furrowed. She fastened her staff at her back and drew her sword. He dove for her and clawed for her but she swept out of his grasp every time. She was honestly a little surprised at how easy it was for her to anticipate his moves.

Winds can’t be summoned or commanded, she realized as she swept in close to the eagle and a fierce little grin lit up her lips as she darted up past him, But anyone whose spent their whole life flying knows how to change with them. 

She turned sharply in mid-air and slashed hard at the eagle’s back with her sword. The North Wind let out an earsplitting screech that had the high howl of the wind across the sea and twisted in mid air. Mercy seized the amulet with her free hand and cut it loose with her sword. The Eagle screeched again with a fury and beat her hard with its wings before clawing its talons across her forearm as she dealt a retaliating slash across its breast feathers. The wound did not bleed but glowed with that same icy blue as Mercy tore herself away from the Eagle. The North Wind screeched a final time before it lowered itself to the ground, silver light spiraling around him as he retook the form of a man, slumped over on one knee, panting hard.

“Genji!” Mercy called and Genji glanced up from the South Wind to see Mercy holding the amulet over her head.

The Tiger and Wyvern were twisted around each other, both covered in bites and claw marks from each other, but finally the tiger had her pinned to the ground, his claws at her long neck, and from the floor, the South Wind saw the North Wind brought to his knees. “Yield,” snarled Genji. 

“All right, all right, I yield,” said the South Wind, putting her hands up, “Not even the amulet’s worth getting knocked in the head and ending up as dumb as you.”

“Genji, catch,” said Mercy, tossing the amulet over to him. He caught it and turned it over in his hand. It seemed so large and glittering around the North Wind’s neck, but in his own hand it seemed hardly bigger than a large coin, but Genji could see the greens and pinks rippling through the dark, round stone. He worked to re-tie the cord Mercy had cut.

The Valkyrie held a hand out to the North Wind, moving to help him to his feet. “I apologize,” she said, “But... perhaps once he has his memories, we can all better understand each other.’’

“I will say we have underestimated you, Valkyrie,” said the North Wind, tracing a hand over the slash wound at his front and sealing it with a line of ice, “But no boon is taken from the wind without cost.”

“What?” Mercy started but she looked at the hand she had extended to the north wind. Her fingers were turning blue from the tips as white frost feathered out from her arm. She stood up and found with a horror that she couldn’t bend her arm. “No--” she looked at the three slash marks the North Wind had made on her forearm and saw the red of her blood was black and glittering as blue spread out from the injury. Instinctively she brought her hand up to try and feel at the now completely numbed wound, but she saw with horror that blue was spreading from the fingertips of her other hand. She staggered back, feeling the cold freeze her shoulder solid, the frost spiraling over the steel of her breastplate, her legs numbed in place and her feet now frozen in place to the floor.

“Valkyrie!” Genji looked up from the amulet and rushed over to her.

“Genj--” she started, but the ice swept over her neck and her voice froze in her throat. Her lips were parted as they turned blue. Genji put his hands on her shoulders as her hair turned white and stiff, frozen solid. Her eyes were frozen open, staring back at him in fear and confusion. Her wings were curving around her protectively, each feather perfectly cast in ice.

“No...” Genji’s voice was hushed as he moved to touch her face but flinched back as a loose strand of hair broke away brittlely at his touch.

“In fairness,” said the South Wind, strolling up next to him, “I did mention the North Wind was also called ‘Bone-Chiller.’”

“Change her back,” said Genji, looking over to the North Wind.

“I cannot,” said the North Wind.

“Asking the North Wind to un-freeze something?” said the South Wind, “Man, you really don’t remember anything, do you? Ah well,” she swung an arm around Genji, “On the bright side, you probably won’t even care about all this once you put the amulet on.”

Genji suddenly perked up. “It restores lost states...” he said quietly. He quickly tied off the cord of the amulet.

“Yep! Gotta say, I’m looking forward to you not being all... ‘Oh Valkyrie’ this and ‘Human lives have worth’ that,” said the South Wind, “And once you see the East Wind again--”

Genji looped the chord of the amulet over Mercy’s head.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?” The South Wind blurted out.

Genji gave a somewhat confused look at the South Wind, then he realized that it simply didn’t occur to her that he might use the amulet for anyone other than himself.

“...I’d rather have her in my life than end up like you,” said Genji, looking between the North and South winds. Both the North Wind and the South Wind looked at him with complete perplexity. Pink and green lights bloomed out from the amulet and Genji took a step back as the lights rippled and flickered around Mercy, her braid thawing out and rippling as if she was underwater. The color returned to her cheeks and nose and lips, and her eyes rolled back in her head and her lids closed heavily as she swayed and sank to the floor. He caught her before she could collapse completely.

“Valkyrie...” he spoke to her gently.

“Mm,” she grunted sleepily and he exhaled with some relief.

He looped the amulet back over her head and tossed it across the floor to the North Wind. “It should be good in a thousand years.” He looked up from Mercy to the North and South Wind, “It’s... probably best if we leave.”

“You have no concept of what you’ve wasted,” said the North Wind, “Of what you’re giving up.”

“And I probably never will,” said Genji, hauling Mercy up from the floor and slinging her over his shoulder, “Farewell.”

----

Mercy awoke with her face half-buried in fur and the stars overhead. She grunted a little and felt something press against her cheek rhythmically. She lifted her head slightly and found she was draped across Genji’s back as he padded, in tiger form, through the snows of Thornspire.

She flinched to alertness. “Genji?” she spoke his name. His fur felt warm on the side of her face

“We’re safe,” Genji spoke to her gently, “About as safe as we can be out here.”

“What happened?” said Mercy, “Everything got cold...” she suddenly pushed up, “The amulet! Did you--?”

“I restored what was lost to me,” said Genji.

“So... you remember...?” Mercy’s brow crinkled.

“Absolutely nothing. And I’m fine with that,” said Genji.

Mercy’s eyes trailed out over the mountain peaks. . “So you’re not a druid,” she said quietly, “You’re the Western Wind.”

“What I am is an adventurer, like you,” said Genji. She could feel his voice rumbling up through his back. She trailed a finger down one of the stripes on his side.

Mercy pushed herself up to an upright position straddling his back like a horse. She swayed slightly with lightheadedness. “So you’re not staying with them.”

“I think I’ve found better company,” said Genji.

Mercy gave a slight chuckle before her eyes trailed up to the sky. Crowning the mountains were great ribbons of green and pink light amid a river of stars. She dug her fingers into the thick fur behind Genji’s ear and gave him a hard-knuckled scratch. A pleased chuff rumbled in Genji’s throat and she snickered a little. “So,” she said, looking up at the sky, “Where to next?”

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel Pilot: Gender Reverse

  Charles Magne was the unique prince of Hell. Both of his parents encouraged him to be stern, confident and to never show mercy to any demons. The royal Magne family was one that commanded respect…a force to be reckoned with. Their symbol was the apple, reflecting on the original legend of Adam and Eve. Although many demons in Hell would’ve loved to take over the kingdom, the king and queen made sure that everyone stayed in line.  

 There was King Lilium, a tall imposing figure with short blonde hair and long red curved horns sticking out from his head. He was often seen wearing a thick black pointed crown on his head along with a wide array of fashionable suits. His face was white and pale, his eyes golden yellow. He was formerly a human man, the first one, who was Adama’s husband. Adama then fell in love with the more submissive man Evan, and Lilium was banished. He became an incubus and then a powerful demon. Lilium was a model and performer, always busy singing on stage or recruiting members for his army via his shows. The army was a secret revolution against Heaven and the deadly Exterminators, who slaughtered demons every year in Hell.

 Queen Lucinda was Charlie’s mother, and a very powerful individual. She and her husband were the embodiment of power and perfection, not just by their good looks but from their presence alone. Lucinda often wore elegant old fashioned white dresses, decorated with red stripes and little apple designs. She carried a cane with a red apple on it. A white round hat covered her long locks of blonde hair. Her face was pale white with red blushes on her cheeks. Lucinda had a knack for being goofy and being the life of any party she attended. She would drink alcohol, eat carnival food and play polka music.

 Centuries ago, Lucinda was formerly the light-bearing angel until she was banished by the genderless God of Heaven. Michelle was her sister and became God’s right hand woman. Lucinda showed contempt for God’s creation of humankind but everyone else obviously agreed with God. Lucinda fell from grace and eventually became the queen of Hell. In fact, she and her ensemble of fallen angels were the ones who crafted Hell into a sort of paradise for sinners to do whatever they wished. Murder, porn, thievery, singing, nothing was off-limits. But the cost of sinner’s freedom was the annual exterminations that would take place to reduce the overpopulation of Hell. It was a tactic that not only reduced Hell’s populace, but also served to keep them in their place. After all, Hell consisted of every bad or “flawed” human being that ever lived. Another so called “superior” group to the sinners were the powerful creatures who were born in Hell…the Hell Born.

Then there was royal son, Charles Magne, named after Charlemagne the conqueror. But he preferred to call himself Charlie. He was currently a teenage boy by appearance (he was more than 200 years old) with short wavy blonde hair and a white face with blushes just like his mother. Being part demon and part angel, Charlie could conjure fire and go into his horned demon form at will (He had yet to unlock his true demonic power as a Nephilim). He was often seen wearing a pink tuxedo suit, black bow tie, black pants and shoes.

 Charlie was different from the other demons in Hell, his parents included. While everyone else carelessly inflicted violence upon their brethren, Charlie would dream of a better world full of sunshine and rainbows. As a child, Charlie learned how to sing, dance and play many instruments, thanks to his parents. He loved musicals, reading, smiling and being affectionate toward others.

 When the king and queen showed Charlie his first Extermination, they thought he would passively admire the scene.

 But the prince was horrified at the sight of deadly spears being plunged into the chests and heads of his people. Blood splattered the windows as muffled screams were heard from outside. Seeing all the lives lost year after year made him feel guilty. Why were his parents content to just watch from the safety of their mansion? He needed to help his people!

 “There is no need to help them, my son,” Lucinda replied. “They are common sinners who are merely facing their fate.”

 “So you’re just going to let all this senseless murder happen?!”

 “It’s the way things are,” replied Lilium without even a glance at him. “It’s been this way for thousands of years and it will continue on for a thousand more.”

 Lucinda had added all those years ago, “It’ll be your job as heir to choose a high class woman to marry so our traditions can get passed on.”

 Charlie was tired of royal duties. He didn’t know what was worse, being pressured into honoring his family or the fact that many people in Hell didn’t give a rat’s ass about him. He had met his green-skinned ex-girlfriend Sevia Von Eldritch at the Hell high school prom and danced. Sevia’s brother Hel Von Eldritch with his tentacle white hair, was a rich bully and snob to him. Sevia was charming enough, if not annoyed with him whenever he talked about his dreams.

 “Your childish looks aren’t even enough to get you on Hell’s Vogue covers,” Hel chided to him. “Your ideas of redemption and happiness are a fucking joke! You must be a bitchy clown every day.”

 “Don’t underestimate what I can and can’t do, Hel!” Charlie responded in spite. “You’ll see it is possible to show that everyone can be a good person. Even though you obviously aren’t!”

 Charlie eventually broke up with Sevia and got into a relationship with the aggressive gray moth demon Vaggus. Charlie’s parents were not pleased of the gay relationship, especially the sterner parent Lucinda. More often than not, Charlie felt distant from his family.

 Then Charlie came up with a plan. Using his wealth, he persuaded his family to let him build a hotel in Pentagram City to use as a place of refuge. The Happy Hotel would be a place for demons to stay for a while and to potentially redeem themselves enough to get them into Heaven. With more demons leaving Hell to a better world, there would hopefully be no more Exterminations in the future.

 “What a ludicrous idea, Charles,” Lilium said, shaking his head. “What makes you think your plan will even work?”

 “You know that Heaven has spared us in exchange for all the souls taken each year,” Lucinda explained. “To break tradition would cause all sorts of consequences, both for us and all of Hell.”

 “What consequences?!” Charlie prodded on. “What could possibly be worse than all of this?”

 “You’re too young to understand.”

 “Mom, I’m centuries old! I can take care of myself.”

 “Just stop with your childish fantasies and grow up,” Lucinda said.

 “Why can’t you guys understand?” Charlie was on the brink of tears.

 “Wipe away those tears,” Lilium said. “It’ll be better for all of us if you’ll just accept the way things are. Just think of all the amazing things to look forward to.”

 “No! I can’t.”

 Lucinda glared down at his teen son. “You and your plan will be perceived as a failure to everyone else. A failure, you hear me? Do you want to be seen like that? You might as well be one if you keep this up.”

 Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

 His mother’s words repeated in his mind like a gut wrenching broken record. Was that all he really was to her?

 He raced away crying, it was all too much.

 “Charles!” her mother boomed in anger. Lilium just shook his head, eyes downcast.

 Sooner later, it would be time for Charlies to face the music, as it were. The process wouldn’t be easy. After all, he had lots to learn about the formerly human sinners.

 What would it be like to live as a human? To be free under a blue sky, to watch bluebirds chirp their songs. To fall in love and experience so many feelings…

 Many times, Charlie felt like he belonged on Earth or in Heaven, practically anywhere else but in Hell. Having been secluded for much of his life, Charlie had little knowledge of life on the streets. All the dance moves and Latin and ancient demonic languages he learned wasn’t going to get him anywhere in that case.

 Charlie knew that inside every demon was a rainbow…or in many cases, a lost human soul changed by death and their demonic natures. It appeared he was the only one who could sense it.

 One day, a deathly silence had announced that the extermination had ended. Dead demon bodies littered the streets, and several weapons were lodged in the organs and remains. One spear poked out from a dead demon’s mouth. “Fuck you Heaven!” was spray-painted in red graffiti on one wall. “Cleanse!” was scribbled on posters of the dark bird-like horned angels with creepy grins and xs over their right eyes. There were large red signs reading “Punishment” and “Your days are numbered!” In the crimson sky, a small moon had a glowing red pentagram on it.

 Charlie sadly walked onto the balcony, his short blonde hair on his head, bangs over his pale forehead. A white shirt was under his pink tuxedo.

 Charlie rubbed a hand over his face sadly. A lit up sign read “Welcome to Hell! Population: a fuck ton.” Charlie lifted his finger and colorful fireworks boomed in the sky, signaling it was safe. Another sign read “demon” in white letters. The denizens slowly opened their windows and peered out. More demons came out from their hiding places. A couple of demons poked their heads out of the windows, one of them a red demon with two eyes and horns, smoking.

 The demon prince sang his 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 how I try

I can’t get by

And no matter what 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 the clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like all 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 sometime

I never even make the game

Believe me”

 “Will this world be a better place?

Or will loss never go away?

The choice I face

Me a disgrace

A loss of hope, here to stay”

 “I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching the clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like all my dreams

Ending in the sky”

 “I’m always chasing rainbows

Waiting to find a little bluebird

In vain”

 Lilium opened up red curtains and watched the fireworks with a passive scowl on his face. He appeared to have white hair, pink sclera eyes with white pupils and makeup on his face. Behind him was Lucinda sitting on a chair in shadow, eyes glowing red. There was also a black spider Overlord lady sipping wine, and another shadow overlord shaped like a dinosaur. A large building read “Porn Studios” on it in lit up letters. The roof was decorated with strings of lights and a life-like figure of a smiling red shirtless male wearing black boxers with a white heart on them.

 Inside the studio sat three influential Overlords, commonly known as the three Vs. Vox, the television demon had a flat screen TV for a head and wore a black dress decorated with thin vertical blue lines. The center of the long dress was decorated with red and black stripes. Vox wore a black ladies hat on her head with a large red bow and a teal Wi-Fi symbol on it. Her eyes were red and her shark-like teeth were light blue.

 Next to Vox was a small man named Velvet, the doll demon of social media. He had dark gray skin and had long bangs of magenta and dark magenta hair on his head. His eyes were pink with white irises and black pupils. He wore a suit of white, black and pink, the bottom of the suit decorated with pink hearts.

 Finally there was the woman pimp Valentina, the porn studio owner. She was a moth demon with grayish skin, antennas, and pink eyes and teeth. She wore a red coat and had white fluff decorated with little hearts on it. Pink heart shaped sunglasses outlined in yellow were over her eyes.

 Velvet happily took a picture of him and Vox, much to the TV demon’s annoyance. Velvet eagerly tapped on his phone with a big smile on his face.

 Valentina looked at her phone in annoyance.

 Valentina: Did you get my money, Angie Baby?

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

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

Angela Dust: Yes, Val.

  A bunch of imps dressed in top hats and round ladies’ hats feasted on a bloody body after a demon with a messy mane pulled out an angelic spear to sell on the black market. Beside her was an emotionless male scientist with white hair and round red glasses dressed in a white lab coat. He was recording deaths and the number of weapons on a clipboard for Xirxine labs.  

 Rosea was a bird-like Overlord, elegantly dressed in a magenta suit under his long black neck. He had black eyes, light skin and short lavender hair like a demonic male Mary Poppins. He wore a matching top hat with skulls and a black rose on it. With a grin, he crossed out “Franklin” on a sign that read “Franklin and Rosea’s Emporium.”

 A brown furry demon plucked another demon’s head off the ground and put in her grocery cart full of other demon heads. More demons wondered around, including a smoking demon, a teen demon and a demon with a striped suit appearing out of nowhere. The Jackpot Hotel and Devil’s Diner were nearby.

 As Charlie cried, the clock tower rang out and the counter read “365 days til next cleanse.” A shadow painting of a figure (originally Lilith) was on the bottom of the tower, along with concert posters. “Lilium in concert” was on a few posters.

 “The Spider In Kinky Boots”

 A blue demon with many arms fell to the ground. The demon had red eyes and stood up. It looked at itself in amazement. “I’m alive! I’m alive!” A car ran over the demon, as blood splattered everywhere. The car pulled to a stop and a demon got out.

 She was a tall white spider demon, her face and body white and furry. Light pink spots decorated her face and dark pink spots were under her pink eyes. The spots were reminiscent of extra spider eyes. A pink heart was on the back of her head. She wore a pink and white striped suit and high bright pink heeled boots. Pink gloves covered four of her hands. She also wore a black bow tie under her neck and a little black choker on her thin neck.

 She was Angela Dust, formerly Antonia when she was alive. She had died of an overuse of PCP, a.k.a. angel dust, hence her name. She was Hell’s number one porn star, and a common participant in the many violent wars over territory that frequently occurred. She was part of an Italian mafia family that had lived in New York in the early 1900s. The bubbly Rolls was her younger brother, Aracknia was her black furry older sister, and the grey Dope was her mother. Now here she was in Hell, working under the harsh command of her pimp boss Valentina.

 Angela rested her elbow on the open car door, slicking her fur back on her head. A gold fang was visible. Being a spider demon, she had multiple arms. Her left eye was black with a pink pupil and her right eye was white with a pink iris.

 “Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff,” came a gruff feminine voice from the driver’s seat. Tracy, the grey owl demon.

 “Yeah, yeah listen,” Angela said, closing the door and facing Tracy, “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 crab, ya got that?”

 She smiled and snapped all her fingers, pointing to her.

 “Whatever you say, slut!” Tracy mocked with a laugh. A round gray hat was on her head. Her left eye was black with a red heart pupil while her right eye was white with a black pupil.

 The white demon cupped her face dramatically. “Ouch, oh, such an insult!” she declared, pretending to be offended. She leaned into the open car window. Tracy’s eyes shrank back and her ears flopped in fear. Angela smirked, “Let me know when you come up with something creative to call me next time, you poorly packaged sack of horse shit.”

 She poked Tracy and her nose with her finger. “Tell the misters I said hi,” Angela said, blowing her a kiss before leaning back out.

 Tracy rolled up the window and grumbled. “Poorly packaged…” The car flipped in the air before falling with a loud crash.

 Angela looked behind her at a store. One sign had a dripping needle that said ”blood draw” on it. A door had an upside down cross as part of the decoration. A yellow neon sign read “Beg Slut,” while a teal one read “We couldn’t think of a pun for our shop, but we sell hard drugs!” A casino flier read “Casino: just a few wins away.” A red vending machine with the word “drugs” written in white caught the spider demon’s attention. She walked over and glanced down at the options:

 Coke

Bojack

McWeedies420

Squip

Hero-in

Krunchy Krokodil

Angel Dust

 The demon pressed a button labeled “angel dust” and a white sack fell to the bottom. With a greedy smile, she took it in her hands.

 With a yoink, a gray demon snatched the bag from her hands.

 “Hey!” Angela yelled.

 “Up yours, drag show!” hollered the demon before she was crushed by a boulder.

 “Oh my god!” cried Angela, but she wasn’t worried about the crushed demon. She sadly picked up a piece of the sack.

 “My drugs! Damn it!”

 “Something Rotten”

 Angela 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, her deviled egg minions stood and watched. Each of them wore black round hats with bows on them and pinstriped round clothing. They were called Egg Grls.

 The room had deep purple walls, cabinets for the minions and decorations of their leader along the wall. The stairs and many of the structures on the ship depicted scales.

 The Overlord was Madam Zmeya. She wore a light gray Victorian style dress with a ruffle at the helm. The dress had yellow vertical stripes down the front. The collar of the dress was pink, the same color as her eyes were at times. She had the lower body of a dark gray and yellow snake, plus a black tail with yellow stripes and pink eyes all over it. Her gray hat was round with a moving pink eye and a grinning mouth of fangs. She sprouted a demonic grin of sharp yellow teeth and her hood was full of pink hypnotizing eyes. Her long black hair swayed, several strands turning into miniature snakes.

 Madam Zmeya had died in 1888 in the Industrial Revolution due to machine failure and a blizzard. She worked on several inventions in London, selling them under a male last name and looked down on those of a lower status. People had called her a “sneaky snake in the grass.” With the help of the blue anglerfish mad scientist Baxtra (who had died of drowning on a boat), Madam Zmeya was able to command and create her Egg Grl minions. (Baxtra, the deviant Hellhound Sobtiny and dapper guy Desperado were off in their own respective places.)

 Up on the platform, the serpent oriented two levers in her 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 her 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 her fingers up the Overlord’s spine. “I like it when you shot them with your ray gun…”

 Madam Zmeya punched a minion out the window and whirled around in anger. The other minions backed up. “I wish she’d shoot me with her ray gun,” a minion whispered, head lowered. “Or perhaps splatter me with acid.”

 Madam Zmeya rolled her eyes at her minions. She turned back to the controls and grinned. Pentagram circles revealed the areas she 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!”

 She 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 her point, she grabbed a minion in her tail and tightly squeezed her.

 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,” she declared, “and everybody will know the name of Madam…”

 “Scaly lady!” yelled a voice.

 “Pardon?!” Madam Zmeya shot back in shock. “Who said that?!”

 She leaned in close to two of her minions, not pleased.

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

 The minions shook in fear.

 “Speak up!” she hissed.

 “It wasn’t us, miss boss woman!” 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. Madam Zmeya observed it for a moment…the bomb looked like a cherry…which could only mean…

 Madam Zmeya flinched back, a look of terror on her face.

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

 Madam Zmeya coughed and swiped some of the smoke away.

 “You looking for a fight, old lady?” a male voice challenged.

  Madam Zmeya spotted her rival standing proud and casually catching another bomb in his hand: Chere Bomb.

 The man was towering tall in one red army boot, ripped black jeans covering his legs. He wore a loose pink crop top with an x on the front, a few suspenders connecting the loose pants and top. He had short strawberry blonde hair and a single pink eye with an x that took up most of his white face. A chain necklace with a skull on it dangled around his neck. He spouted a grin of sharp white teeth.

 Chere had died in the 1980s in Australia, due to a bomb explosion. He was a hot-headed rebel in a more easygoing culture, always fighting for the rights of LGBTQ + individuals and the downtrodden. He loved blowing things up.

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

 “…more,” he finished.

 “Oh, you wanna go, mister?” Madam Zmeya retorted. She flicked her hood back before opening it. The snakes from her hair hissed in anticipation. “Well, I’m happy to oblige!”

 She let out another shrill laugh as her minions closed in, holding stun guns, which crackled with yellow electricity.

 But Chere Bomb just scoffed. With graceful leaps, he avoided the blasts and threw down another bomb. He 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, he continued his assault from below.

 “Catch me if you can, reptilian bitch!” he taunted out loud.

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

 The minions jumped to the ground after him, the Overlord following suit. Chere Bomb dodged a blast, grinned and picked up the minion egg. He spun around and threw the minion straight into Madam Zmeya’s face. The snake threw the egg back at him, and he caught it with one hand.

 “Thanks for the gift!” Chere called out, before cracking the egg open with an evil grin. He placed a bomb into it, then threw it back...straight into her face. Madam Zmeya could only make a face of surprise before the egg blew up in pink smoke.

 “Why you little…”

 Chere Bomb ducked as another egg sailed over his head.

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

 “Angela!” called Chere Bomb, happy to have his partner in crime arrive.

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

 Another pink explosion filled the air as the fight continued.

 “Hey, thanks for the backup, Angie!” Chere Bomb said as he fired a flaming red blast from a metal canon weapon toward Madam Zmeya.

 Angela Dust laughed, leaning against volcanic rock as cover. She threw a grenade over her white head.

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

 A pink explosion rocked the streets.

 “Where have you been anyway?” Chere asked as he removed a fuse from another bomb. “I thought you up and died or some shit.”

 “Oh I wish,” Angela remarked as she lit another fuse and handed the bomb to her ally. He threw it forward, then ducked behind the rock next to Angela.

 Angela continued, “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some hunks 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, Angela Dust fired rapidly from a gun at the minions, making some of them explode.

 She sighed, and used one of her hands to gesture. “Y’know, no fights, no pranks, no “problematic language.” His words, not mine.”

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

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

 “Holy shit!” Chere Bomb yelled after avoiding a green explosion and leaping into the air, more bombs in his hands.

 Angela scooped up yok with her pink gloved finger. “Well, sorta clean.” She smashed apart another egg minion with her club. “As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder.”

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

 A black chain wrapped tightly around Angela’s waist and chest, sending her flying backwards. Chere Bomb gasped as his ally was pulled away. Madam Zmeya threw the chained Angela hard onto the ground a distance away. The spider landed with a thud against volcanic rock.

 “Oh, harder mommy!” Angela teased with a wide smirk.

 Madam Zmeya gasped, eyes tearing up. “Daughter?!”

 Angela Dust stared blankly, one eye raised, a look of disbelief on her face.

 Chere Bomb rushed into action, landing a sharp kick to Madam Zmeya back. The villain landed on the ground, then hissed threateningly. She stood up and brushed off her dress.

 “You whores have no class!” she exclaimed. “In war, the side remembered is the side with the most…style.” She fluffed up the lace in the center of her dress for emphasis.

 Chere Bomb broke open an egg and tossed the shells aside. Angela stood up, freeing herself from the chains.

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

 “Speaking of style, is your hat like, alive or something?” asked the spider demon wiggling her fingers.

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

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

 She and Chere burst into laughter. Even a pink “loser” sign pointed at the oblivious villain. “Ooooh,” said a minion near her. “One hellish burn.” The snake slapped the egg with her hand.

 “I’m going to blow you to bits!” Madam Zmeya screeched, yelled, pointing at them.

“Hmm! Kinky!” Angela 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.”

 “Not like that! Pervert!” yelled the villain, pointing a finger. Chere Bomb and Angela Dust held in laughter.

 Angela suddenly pushed Chere 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 Angela’s four wrists. She struggled to free herself, the cords stretching.

 Madam Zmeya chuckled. “Not so cocky now, are we? You got yourself into this wet mess!”

 “Y’know, you really need to watch what’s coming out of your mouth,” Angela remarked.

 The villain didn’t respond.

 Angela sighed. “I’ve been making these sex jokes this whole time!”

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

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

 She cocked her gun. “I mean, it’s just…sad!”

 The spider jumped into the air, freeing herself and firing the gun. The laser hit Madam Zmeya, and her gray hat fell off.

 Chere Bomb popped up next to Angela, walking sideways. “Think you’re gonna get into a lot of trouble for this?”

 “Eh, what’s one little brawl gonna cause?” Angela shrugged her shoulders and retracted her extra arms. Madam Zmeya 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.

 Chere Bomb playfully elbowed Angela. “Glad ya haven’t changed. You know you’re my favorite gal to party with!”

 “You know it, sugar bits,” Angela replied.

 “You ready to finish this?” he asked. He rolled a bomb from one of his shoulders to his other shoulder, then into his hand.

 Angela cocked her gun again. “Born ready, baby!”

 The duo charged at Madam Zmeya. Everyone yelled. More egg minions fell and Madam Zmeya realized she was running out fast.

 After several more minutes of battle, Madam Zmeya and her remaining minions retreated back to their ship. “This isn’t over, sluts!” she declared at her 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. She tossed out more minions in response before taking the controls and flying the craft away.

 Angela and Chere Bomb high-fived.

 “See you around,” Chere said.

 “Until the next brawl,” said Angela.

 Chere 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 boy. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!” he sang out loud. Angela Dust laughed and continued on her way.

 After buying some more amino and pot from the 666 Shop, Angela met with Charlie and Vaggus in a white monster limo with teeth on the front of the vehicle. A great day indeed for the promiscuous demon.

 “Morning Report”

 Transcript during the 666 News:

“BREAKING NEWS: A LARGE SCALE TURF WAR IS UNDERWAY IN PENTAGRAM CITY BETWEEN MADAM ZMEYA AND CHERE 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 HUSBAND. I’M SO SORRY, MARTIN. I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE IT, BUT YOU DID GAIN A LOT OF WEIGHT AFTER BECOMING A FATHER AND I REALLY NEEDED SOME SPACE. YOU KNOW, WHAT? NO, THAT WAS A GOOD CALL. I BANGED THE JANITOR, AND THAT WAS A PRETTY NICE TIME, EVEN THOUGH HE LAUGHED AT ME WHEN I TOLD HER I COULDN’T GET OFF UNLESS HE LICKED MY FOOT FIRST. I DON’T SEE HOW THAT’S A WEIRD REQUEST. MAYBE IF I’D JUST GET A HOOKER, HE WOULD’VE BEEN MORE AGREEABLE. THE POINT IS, MY HUSBAND IS A FUCKING SON OF A BITCH. ONE TIME, WE WENT TO THE ZOO AND I GOT REALLY MAD BECAUSE I THOUGHT THE ORANGUTAN WAS MAKING FUN OF ME. SHE KEPT DOING THAT STUPID DUCK LIP FACE? THEIR LIPS ALL PUCKERED? THEN IT STARTED SCREAMING, AND THAT REALLY PISSED ME OFF. MY HUSBAND 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 man with short blonde hair and a large toothy grin stood wearing a dark pink fancy suit with a tie. Sitting at the other chair, dressed in a blue-gray business dress was a demon with a gray gas mask for a face along with long light blonde hair. They were live on the air.

 “Good afternoon!” said the man. “I’m Karter Killjoy.”

 “And I’m Tam Trench!” said the masked woman. “Chaos at Pentagram City today as a turf war is raging on the west side between notable queen Madam Zmeya and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse Chere Bomb!”

Two pictures surrounded by flame borders showed Madam Zmeya wearing a yellow “music band” shirt, doing a peace sign and wearing a pair of sunglasses with a dopey expression on her face. The other picture showed Chere Bomb flipping the bird with a grin and standing under glittering spotlights.

 “That’s right Tam!” Karter 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 Madam Zmeya fighting Chere Bomb with her egg minions.

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

 “And I’d sure like to nail his hot spot!” Tam Trench said with a giggle.

 Karter chuckled forcefully. “You are a shriveled pussy jackass, Tam. Or should I say…”

 Adding insult and injury, he poured his hot coffee over her groin and spilled more onto her breasts…

 “No pussy!”

 “Augh! Not again!” she groaned.

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

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

 Tam Trench winced in pain on the desk.

 “All that and more after the break!”

 Karter broke his white mug in his hand, and turned to Tam Trench. “Suck it up you little bitch…”

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

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

 Vaggus had died at age 22 in 2014. He was El Salvadorian and had died from a gang rape of both men and women for being gay. He remembered the jeers from the evil crowd towering over him as they taunted, “You should enjoy this, she-male!” as a woman pinned him down with ecstasy in her eyes. After being brutally beaten, his body was then set on fire. Ever since then, he mistrusted nearly every woman he saw, carrying a harpoon wherever he went. Vaggus could say he was lucky to have found Charlie.

 “Okay, you remember what to say?” Vaggus asked. He had a light gray face and sharp short white bangs over part of his face. The bangs obscured his left eye, which had a pink x over it, He wore a loose white shirt with xs over his nipples. He wore long pants with stripes on them. The left leg had gray and pink stripes down it. Little red horns stuck out from his head, which grew sharper and longer whenever he got angry…which was often. He also wore a torn gray jacket. He eyed his boyfriend expectantly with his orange eye.

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

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

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

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

 He tossed a donut aside before gasping.

 “Oh! What if I…”

 “Sing a song about it?” Vaggus finished.

 “You knew I was gonna say that.” He playfully tapped his friend on the nose. Vaggus chuckled after Charlie poked his nose.

 Vaggus adjusted Charlie’s bowtie again and shook his shoulders. “Because I know you. But please don’t sing. This is serious.” He pounded his fist onto his hand.

 Charlie snapped his fingers and briefly winked. “Well, you know, I find I’m better at expressing myself through song!” He stood on the table and arched his arms dramatically. Down below, the prince’s red goat demons Shimmer and Glimmer chewed on donuts.

 “But life isn’t a musical, dude,” Vaggus reminded him.

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

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

 He hopped off the table and pulled out a piece of paper, hopping excitedly.

“The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

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

 “Yes!” Charlie answered. He pointed to his picture. It showed a list that read: “4, unicorn kisses,” “5, dolphin high-fives?” and “6, sing show tunes = happy ending!” He 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,” Vaggus stated. He then begged him: “Just please follow the talking points we went over.”

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

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

 Vaggus somehow knew that this would not end well.

 “Biggest Blame Fool”

 Charlie walked over to Karter Killjoy, who posed in his red suit, smoking a cigarette.

 “Hi! I’m Charlie.”

 He waved and held out his hand.

 “Karter Killjoy,” the man deadpanned before blowing out smoke and snapping his cigarette. “I’d say it’s a ‘pleasure’ to meet you, but that would be a lie. You can put that away,” he 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,” Karter cut in. He invasively tapped Charlie’s chest and nose with his finger. “We’re not here because we wanted you here. You’re here because Amelia couldn’t make it for her infanticide segment.”

 Karter mentioned to a billboard that showed a pale black haired woman cradling several dead babies in her arms.  “A Dyer case!” was the tagline. “Who approved this show?” was written on a sticky note tapped to the corner of the advertisement. Tam Trench shook her head in her seat. “Sex! Murder! Weather!” were displayed on a column of three smaller signs.

 Karter slicked back his hair, flexed his thin arms, 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 “prince” wants to advertise.”

 “But I…” Charlie began.

 “So don’t get cocky with me, bastard,” he warned, getting into Charlie’s face, “Or I will fucking wipe the floor with you!”

 “And we’re live!” said a voice.

 Karter rushed back into his seat with a bony crack of his neck.

 “Welcome back!”

 Charlie sat in a chair next to him.

 “So, Prince Charles Magne…”

 “It’s Charlie,” he squeaked.

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

 “Well…” Charlie cleared his throat. He looked nervously at the demonic crew in front of him. A demon with a TV head, had “words” flashed across the screen in angry red letters. There was a girl with a black hat for a face, an Egyptian-like male with a white poodle, a man 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 man wore a hat with hanging beads and colorful Day of the Dead makeup on his face. Vaggus encouraged him to go on.

 Charlie took a deep breath, his voice soft spoken.

 “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.”

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

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

 Vaggus gave him 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.” His voice rose. “And no one is even given a chance!”

 Charlie banged his fist on the desk, waking Karter 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 his 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!” He 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 as Charlie raised his arms. 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 a dozen TVs inside. One demon watching had deer antlers and a flaming blue face, one of the many cruel Overlords. Sobtiny, the 90’s rocker 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 gun faced demon wore a cloth over his grinning face and had a large barrel gun for a face. Her friend looked like a demonic bug, and another looked like a wicked witch 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 guy for real? He thinks, you hear what he thinks? He…heh, heh, heh, oh he’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!” He weakly added, “Yay.”

 One dragon demon leaped away as a tall shadowy figure stood in the background. The sound of tap shoes approached.

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

 The woman smiled and tilted her head a notch as she watched the TV with curiosity and amusement. Her shadow next to her briefly morphed into a shadowy face with fluffy ears. She spotted the fliers out of the corner of her 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 her excited.

 She had heard of the demon prince before, but she wasn’t expecting him to appear on TV. She 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 she could easily do).

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

 “Haven’t been this entertained since I broadcasted my massacre of the Ninth Ring. This cute Charlie character is intriguing…”

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

 The sorceress knew where she would go next.

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

 Vaggus punched her hard in the face in response, causing her to fall off the chair to the ground.

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

 A light bulb went off in his head and he smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

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

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

 Summoning the Disney prince within him, Charlie belted out his 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”

 Shimmer and Glimmer 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 there’ll be no more screams

Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams

And puffy-wuffy clouds

You’re gonna be all 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 his arms in the clouds…avoiding the attacks of every horror movie serial killer… (Music Logic)

He 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” and “my husbando” porn mags 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 her body…

 Giving demons big hugs…

 Charlie emerging in his 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. Karter shrieked and banged his fist on the table. Charlie sank down to his knees in embarrassment.

 “What in the nine circles 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 his head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause, and she’s shown incredible progress!”

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

 “Oh just someone named…Angela Dust.”

 “The porn star?” asked Tam Trench in disbelief. She subconsciously unzipped her zipper and Karter whirled on her; “You fucking would, Tam!” His sharp nails left marks on the table. “I’m not listening to a woman!”

 Karter 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 his fingers. “She’s been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two whole weeks.”

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

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

 “Oh shit,” Charlie breathed.

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

 He let out a dramatic gasp…”porn actor Angela Dust! What a juicy coincidence!”

 The screen showed Angela Dust with the words “Angela Dust in ‘Well, Ok’: 18+.” Dicks and boobs were blurred.

 Satisfied, he turned back to Charlie. “You must feel really stupid right now.” Karter and Tam laughed again.

 “Ratings!” they added with jazz hands.

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

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

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

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

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

 Tam leaped out of the way.

 Karter grew taller, his form turning to shadow. Out sprouted claws, four extra sharp appendages, and four red eyes on his face like a spider. He launched himself at Charlie. Charlie clawed at his hair and landed punches as the alarm went off in the news room. Karter crawled on the desk on multiple legs like an insect, baring his fangs before Charlie jumped at him and knocked him off the table. Tam Trench screamed as her body was set on fire. “Why won’t anyone help me?!”

 Charlie eventually ran out of the news room, Karter following close behind, as everyone yelled.

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

 Vaggus followed him 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. Vaggus and Charlie climbed in…and so did an ecstatic Angela Dust. The doors closed and they drove off toward the Happy Hotel.

    “Your Fault”

Charlie had never felt so humiliated in his life. He sat in his seat and curled into himself. Once again, his 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 his yellow eyes, but he held them in.

 Maybe his mother was right. What if he really was a failure, like everyone said?

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

 He 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 prince, 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,” Vaggus mentioned, with a playful roll of his 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…”

 Vaggus stared, hopeful…

 “…But today isn’t one of those days.”

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

 “I couldn’t help it,” he 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.” He turned to look at his boyfriend. “You’re my best friend, sorta like my older brother…and the only one who seems to get me. You’re part of my family already.”

 Vaggus 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 boys locked hands just out of sight. It was their habitual way of showing comfort, and it worked on the many days when Vaggus didn’t want any hugs.

 “Don’t get too discouraged,” Vaggus 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 himself again, and took a puff of a breath. Even the painted eyes seemed to judge his every move. He glanced over at Vaggus, whose eye was twitching in annoyance.

 Angela Dust was busy playing with the button, making the car window go up and down, up and down. She froze when she saw an angry Vaggus staring at her. Vaggus’ small red horns stood up in agitation whenever he got angry.

 “What?” Angela asked with a shrug.

 “What? What?!” Vaggus shouted, pulling out chunks of his short white hair. “What were you doing?!”

 Angela sighed. “Aw come on! I owed my boy buddy a solid! Isn’t that a ‘redeeming quality?’ Helping friends with stuff?”

 “Not with turf wars that result in mass murder and destruction!” Vaggus replied.

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

 She propped up her long legs and pushed the window button again. Vaggus tossed a dagger at the button and it fizzed out in a shower of sparks. Angela stared, shocked and terrified. Vaggus growled in warning.

 “Aw come on, I had to!” Angela protested. “My credibility was on the line!” She 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.” She lifted up her furry chest, bouncing her white furry breasts up and down.

 “Your credibility?” Vaggus 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! Like an orphan, with no arms. Or legs. Uh…oh with progeria!” Charlie covered his face with his hands as Angela blabbered on.

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

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

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

 Vaggus stood up with hands on his hips. “Was that you trying to be homophobic or racist?”

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

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

 “Too, late, dude. Wait, would that make me double dead?” She laughed slowly and loudly. “And where exactly do I go? To double Hell?”

 She laughed again. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me, bastard. Get used to it.”

 Vaggus swore in Spanish.

 “Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt?” Angela nonchalantly asked. “Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down there.”

 “You’re one to talk,” Vaggus muttered with a small smirk.

 Angela 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!”

 She pulled out a dirty piece of paper from in between her boobs that read: “Show me your feet! Brenda. #1 fan/critic.” There was a picture of a young Angela in the lap of a naked fat lady, licking Angela with her green tongue. She had a tattoo of Angela with a red crossed out sign.

 This time, Charlie spoke up. “That was really uncool, y’know, Angela.”

 Vaggus growled and turned to his friend. “Uncool?!” He mentioned to Angela. “After that train-wreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel.” He turned to the spider. “All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!”

 Angela glanced at a discarded pile of ash and used cigarettes. “Does this mean I don’t get a free room anymore?”

 Vaggus spread out his hands as if asking “Well, what do you think?”

 She let out a mock sigh and snap. “Ah, well, shucks.”

 Charlie pulled off his 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, Vaggus. It’ll be okay!”

 Now it was Vaggus’ turn to let out a small smile of thanks. Charlie placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and his friend calmed down.

 “What would I do without you?” Vaggus asked. He and Charlie slowly leaned into each other, their heads gently touching.

 “Get a room, boys!” Angela 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 circus 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.

 Angela, Vaggus, 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. Vaggus 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 boy with his father and mother on various trips. One picture showed him and Vaggus in front of a castle at Loo-Loo World, Hells’ version of Disney World.

 Angela Dust came across a red fridge leaning low against the wall. She opened the door and pulled out a purple box labeled “Popsies.” She shrugged at the dripping ruined box and took out a popsicle. She gave it a lick.

 “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.” She laughed nervously, trying to cheer Charlie up. But Charlie just sat sadly on a wooden box in a darkened area of the room. Angela closed the fridge door, sucked on a popsicle and reached out one of her arms to him…then hesitated. She walked away, letting him have some alone time.

 Charlie walked past the two posing elephant statues balancing balls on their trunks, and toward the front door. He opened the door and went outside. Holding out his purple cell phone, (or “Hell Phone, hah, get it?”) he pressed an icon with the word “Dad” decorated with a heart and horns on the d’s.

 Charlie took a deep breath as a voicemail tone came through.

 “Hey Dad. 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, Dad.”

 He slid down and sat on the stone ground, tears falling from his eyes. He wiped some away with his arm. “I think mom was right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets too long. Love you! Bye.”

 He ended the call with a tap and rubbed his eyes with his hand. Standing back up, he opened the door, closed it, and leaned against the stained glass window, eyes closed.

 What was he supposed to do now?

 “Let’s Misbehave”

 A slow ominous knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. He opened his eyes.

 Knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock.

 It was a rhythmic knock, sounding like “shave and a haircut.” (Or was it “skunks in a barnyard”, or “imps in a cauldron?” He wasn’t sure.

   An ice cold feeling of dread spread through his veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

 Unless…

 He tentatively reached out his hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

 Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside his door.

 She stood a head taller than him, wearing an elegant long dark red dress decorated with thin light red stripes going down it. Several tatters were visible at the helm. The area below her neck had a red undershirt with a black downward facing pentagram for decoration. The pentagram was framed by more lace in a v shape. She wore dark stitched up leggings and black high heels with red deer prints underneath them. Black gloves with red fingertips covered her long fingers.

 And her face…momentarily her figure and face were pretty to Charlie but he quickly became terrified as he looked up. Her face was a sickly gray and her sharp yellow teeth were set in a wide grin. Her long hair was red and black, the smaller black ends tapering off past her shoulders. The rest of her hair was red, up to the black tips of her two fluffy deer like tufts perched on top of her head. She had no antlers. A red vintage microphone staff was a magical item she carried with her. A monocle rested under her right eye.

 Alastra was born French Creole in New Orleans in the early 1900s. She was very close to her African American father who taught her about hunting and Voodoo rituals. In contrast, her white Christian mother hardly paid any attention to her. Although her mother taught her how to sew and cook, she also expected her to take on woman responsibilities of marriage, housekeeping and rearing children. Alastra had light brown skin and beautiful long brown hair.

 Alastra would have none of it, instead she dreamed of playing in a jazz band and performing on stage... and did so for a period of time. But being a woman of color, she had it difficult since the beginning. She applied for music and radio jobs, always being turned down and shooed away. Racist and sexual remarks became daily background noise, almost impossible to ignore. Her mother would frequently give her black eyes and beat her. Several tragic events happened, including her mother sending her to an insane asylum to rot away. She had been diagnosed with narcissism and a sexual disorder. (Why didn’t she want to fall in love with a man?) She managed to escape to the cabin. When her father was drafted for the war and later died, she was devastated at the loss. After being raped and almost killed by men she thought were her friends, she decided enough was enough.

 Alastra eventually became a radio host, Voodoo Queen, and serial killer. After her mother threatened to divorce the family, Alastra killed her with a gun and ate her remains. She killed both men and women but preferred luring women to her home where she would poison their food and drinks. Knives, axes, guns, she used them all. After killing off several higher ups, she managed to form her own radio studio and became the most famous radio host in Louisiana.

 Alastra basked in her fame and wealth, even meeting blonde dapper performer Desperado, who was head over heels for her. But Alastra didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. She would talk about the murders, play jazz music and tell dad jokes, which she dubbed “mom” jokes. Alastra enjoyed the Stock Market Crash but soon found herself running out of food. She resorted to cannibalism for survival. No one suspected her until 1933. She got bitten by a rabies dog and ran through the woods. She died a brutal death after being shot in the head and mauled by police dogs at the same time.

 Due to the deals she had made with otherworldly demons, Alastra gained dark eldritch powers she used to topple Overlords and take over several areas. Broadcasting her massacres was both entertaining and was used as a way to let others know she was not to be messed with. She had an army of slave souls plus two pet alligator demons. She hated Vox and her modern technology. Her fluffy red and black deer tail was hidden under her dress as well as the many scars across her thin body. No one knew if Alastra wanted Charlie to succeed or not, but she would use any means necessary to accomplish her goals. (But oh how she missed her father dearly.)

 Alastra’s large eyes glowed red as a radio buzz briefly sounded. Charlie’s eyes went wide as saucers.

 The woman began to speak, her voice sounding like it was being spoken through a radio.

  “Hell…”

 Charlie slammed the door in her face.

 Opened the door…

 “…o.”

 Slammed it again.

  The woman stood, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on her face, hand and curved claw in the air.

 “Well… that was…rude,” she 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, Vaggus?” Charlie called.

 “What?” Vaggus replied in annoyance on the couch.

 Charlie flashed a nervous smile. “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

 “What?!” he demanded.

 “Uh, who?” Angela asked. She sucked erotically on her popsicle.

 “What should I do?” he asked, pulling at his lower eyelids.

 “Well, don’t let her in!” exclaimed Vaggus.

 Charlie was tempted to do just that. But he also had a duty to not leave any sinners behind. He took a breath, eyes furrowed and opened the door again.

 “May I speak now?” the red demon asked.

 “You may…” Charlie replied.

 The woman held out her gloved hand which briefly glowed. “Alastra, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

 She eagerly grabbed his wrist and leaned her face close to his before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, his hand still out.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” she went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!” She raised her arms before walking forward. “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the Stock Market Crash of 1929!”

 She bobbed her head side to side and burst into laughter. “So many orphans!”

 Vaggus suddenly pointed a spear weapon at her and the doe froze. “Stop right there!” He swore in Spanish under his breath. “I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shit lady!”

 Angela peeked around the corner to see what was going on.

 Alastra merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with her fingers.

 “Little man, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 She added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

 Her red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials as radio static filled the room. She tilted her head slightly, letting her chaotic magic roam. Vaggus 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 Alastra shook her head, eyes back to full red. Her eyes had briefly been black with red pupils.

 “No, I’m here because I want to help!” She curtsied.

 Charlie was sure he hadn’t heard her right.

 “Say what now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

 “Help!” she responded with another laugh. She held up her microphone staff.

 “Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 She tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center.

 “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded in a feminine tone, eye shaking in fear.

  “Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

 Alastra appeared behind the demon boys, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to her regular self. Both Vaggus and Charlie flinched.

 “With…” she mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s soft voice…

 “…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in her 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.

 Alastra laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!”

  She curled up her fingers before putting her hands up to her cheeks. She then moved off to the side. “I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

 She placed her elbow on an annoyed Vaggus’ head. Then she shoved the moth demon aside.

  “My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

 She laughed again, spreading out her arms.

 Charlie looked downcast as Vaggus stood up with a scowl. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

 Alastra laughed again. “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!”

 She smiled and titled her head.

 Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

 Alastra 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!”

 She grinned at Vaggus and Angela who sat on the couch and shrugged.

  She continued. “The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

  She spread out her 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.

 Alastra smirked and looked at Charlie over her shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

 She pulled Charlie close to her with her arm and twirled the shorter demon 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 into the fiery pit of failure.” Her eyes glowed red in pleasure.

  “Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing her clawed hand from his shoulder.

 Alastra took him aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

 “A Cautionary Tale”

 “Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Miss Smiles over there?” Angela asked Vaggus.

 “Wait, you’ve never heard of her before?” Vaggus asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

 Angela shrugged her shoulders.

 “The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?” Vaggus asked.

 “Eh, I’m not too big on politics,” Angela replied.

 Vaggus let out a deep annoyed sigh before leaning in close to explain.

 “Decades ago, Alastra manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. She 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, she broadcast her carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness her ability. Sinners started calling her The Radio Demon. (As lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled her to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: She’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we cannot risk getting involved with, unless we want to end up erased.”

 Flashes of Alastra in her full demon form, a giant red doe with a long lavender tongue, sharp teeth, long dark claws, glowing red eyes and large ears appeared on screen. She grinned as she hovered her claws over the demonic faces of voodoo imps and minions. Her dress revealed a flaming hole where screaming demons struggled to escape.

 “Ya done?” Angela asked with a snicker. “She looks like a strawberry pimp!”

 Alastra conjured her staff into her hand with a smug look.

 “Well, I don’t trust her!” Vaggus exclaimed.

 To be fair, do you trust any woman? Any women? Women?” Angela asked with a slight laugh.

 Vaggus ignored her and walked up in front of his friend.

 “Charlie, listen to me. You can’t believe this creep! She isn’t just a happy face! She’s a dealmaker, pure evil! She 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 she’s bad, and I know she 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.”

 Alastra stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucinda dressed in white, Lilium in a dark purple suit, and Charlie as a little boy wearing a brown and white suit 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 his boyfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

 Charlie,” warned Vaggus, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with her!”

 From a distance, Alastra opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled. Both boys glanced in her direction, worry on their faces.

 “I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

 “Don’t worry,” Charlie replied to Vaggus with a chuckle. “I picked up one thing from my Mom…”

 He spoke in a higher womanly voice as he walked away, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

 Gathering his 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 a grinning Alastra, then vanished. Charlie glanced back at her with narrowed eyes.

 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.”

 Alastra twirled her cane and held out her right hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

 Flashes of eerie green light surrounded her, electricity snaking up the walls. Shadows swirled around the room and everyone covered their faces at the force of the wind.

 “Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out his hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals! I…hmm…”

 Charlie decided to try another approach.

 “As prince 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?” he asked.

 “Hmm…Fair enough.” Alastra shrugged before she strolled away, cane vanishing.

  “Cool beans.” Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

 Alastra stopped and spotted Vaggus off to the side. She smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. She tickled him under his chin with a finger.

 “Smile, good sir! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

 Alastra hummed happily on her way, while Vaggus growled in disgust and rage.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastra asked Charlie.

 “Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastra peered at Vaggus through her monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

 She walked over towards Angela.

 “And what can you do, my butch fella?”

 Angela grinned. “I can suck your pussy and boobs!”

 A screech was heard as Alastra stared in shock and revulsion.

 “Ha! No.” Alastra deadpanned.

 “Your loss,” Angela said with a slight laugh. Alastra summoned her cane.

 “Well, this just won’t do!” Alastra exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

 The spell came easily in her mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

  Alastra snapped her fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall, fully repaired.

 A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

 Alastra walked over and picked up the creature with her hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angela, Vaggus, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops boy was wearing a dark pink butler outfit with a poodle on the front, his short hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow. His upper shirt was white with pink paint stains. White spots were on the left side of his pants.

 “This little rascal is Preppy!” Alastra introduced with a smile, before dropping him. The boy landed on his feet.

 “Hi! I’m Preppy!” he greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” He laughed slightly and his pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

 “Why are you all men?” he asked. He darted over and lifted Charlie up before putting him down. Vaggus growled, aiming his spear at the newcomer.

 “Are there any women here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” He missed the fact that Angela was female, for obvious reasons.

  “Oh man, this place is filthy!” he exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a more man cave, homey touch, which is weird, because you’re all men, no offence.” He chewed on a black spider he found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

 He darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them, removing spider webs. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

 Preppy raced around, removing cobwebs, then poked at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a blue beetle doll that Alastra had stabbed with a clothing pin for him to play with. Preppy turned and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, a dirty rat!” He dashed over, scooped up the dark grey creature and popped it into his mouth rapidly. Strained squeaks mingled with rapid chewing sounds. “I bet there’s tons of them under this place, I’ll be sure to get more!”

 Alastra looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

 “So fortunate of me to have met him in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard he died from being burned alive in a fireplace. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give him 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. She had black and white fur, fluffy breasts, wore a black round hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. She also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

 “Ha!” she declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, girls!”

 She suddenly felt herself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

  “Full…whoa!”

 “Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

 She 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 she must have had too much booze to drink.

 “…the hell?”

 As the images faded, she soon found herself 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 her. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. She was sitting in a portion of the casino she was in. It felt like she was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

 “What the fuck is this?”

 She saw Alastra and pointed an accusing claw.

 “You!”

 “Ah, Shella, my good friend!” Alastra cheerfully greeted as audience claps came from the microphone. “Glad you could make it!”

 Alastra’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When she 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 pillars 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.

 Shell had been born in Nevada and grew up in a casino. She enjoyed gambling, drinking, money and magic shows. She had died at age 75 in the 1970s.

 “Don’t you “Shella” me, you shady old bitch!” Shell spat, and swiped Alastra’s hand away from her shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

 Shell stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

 “Good to see you too!” added Alastra.

 Shell face palmed. “What the fuck do you want with me this time?”

 Alastra grabbed hold of her, startling her so much that cards fell from her hands.

 “My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

 Shell was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

 “Hmm. No, I don’t think so!” Alastra replied.

 Shell shoved the Radio Demon off her, the latter casually dusting off her red sleeves. She puffed up her black and white fur in anger, her cat ears twitching. “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,” Alastra grinned.

 Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

 “I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Shell protested.

 Alastra appeared next to her, startling the cat. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

 She pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from the microphone.

 “With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

 Alastra spread the corners of Shell’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Shell frowned seconds after she let go.

 “…this job was made for you!”

 Alastra strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of her black heels revealing red hoof prints as she walked.

 “Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastra continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

 With a curve of her fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

 Shell stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. She swore she could hear the sound of a slot machine.

 “What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” She took the bottle in anger. “Well you can!”

 She immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

 “Too easy,” thought Alastra.

 By this time, Charlie, Vaggus and Angela Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggus 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…brothel, sinful, lady lounge …”

 Angela lunged herself into him, knocking him to the floor.

 “Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” She pointed at Shell with multiple gloved fingers.

 She slid up to Shell. “Hey,” she said in a flirtatious voice.

 “Go fuck yourself,” Shell deadpanned, drinking her booze.

 “Only if you watch me,” Angela retorted, with a sway of her butt and hips.

 To make matters worse for Shell, Charlie leaned in close to her, excitement and red stars in his eyes.

 “Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

 “I lost the ability to love years ago,” Shell replied, gulping down more booze.

 Alastra walked in, an ever-present grin on her face.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Charlie ran over to her. “This is amazing!” he beamed, rubbing his cheeks. Alastra blinked rapidly in appreciation.

 “It’s okay,” Vaggus grumbled from nearby, arms crossed.

 Alastra laughed and pulled the two boys close to her. “This is going to be very entertaining!” Her laughter was mixed with old radio sounds.

 Alastra conjured fire in her hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. She pushed Vaggus aside and changed her attire.

 Alastra now wore a fancy light red flapper dress, the lower part of her black leggings showing. She wore black heels on her feet. The skirt of her dress was dark magenta in color, the lower part near the helm was a brighter shade of pinkish red. The top part of her dress was also dark magenta, her gloves red. A round dark red ladies hat was on her head, the bow around it black. The bow was decorated with little claws around it. The top part of her hat had a line of visible stitches going across it, while a few pins stuck out from it.

 She waved a finger over Charlie’s head and his outfit changed. He now wore a black and pink suit, the bow tie under his neck dark red. He wore fancy black pants and shoes, the trails of his dark pink suit visible from behind him. A black top hat was perched on his blonde head, the rim decorated with small red apple designs. Charlie stared down in amazement at his new outfit.

 Alastra began to sing as she and Charlie began to dance.

 “You have a dream

You want us to know”

 Vaggus was fuming on the ground, the red x over his left eye burning red like his face.

 Alastra bent down next to him with a laugh and a shrug.

 “And it’s so ridiculous…”

 She stood back up and picked up Charlie. “But hey kid, give it a go!”

 She tossed the surprised prince into the air before he grinned.

 Both of them landed and danced with fast steps. The wall behind them was decorated with an image of Alastra’s large claws. Everything had turned into neon colors. Thanks to Alastra’s magic, voodoo symbols and deer antlers decorated the walls.

 “Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon beau!”

 Alastra took Charlie’s hand and the duo slid down a slide that used to be the stairs. They landed on the ground. Alastra snapped her fingers, and everyone’s outfits changed. Angela Dust stared in disgust at a bright pink dress she was now wearing. Vaggus stared down at his dark gray suit decorated with a bright pink tie in the center. Preppy stared in happiness at his dark blue suit and matching small top hat, decorated with a white daisy. Shell sat lazily at the bar counter.

 “So let’s give these burning fools a brand new show!” Alastra sang. She snapped her fingers, saying “Take it, girls!”

 Black shadow demons appeared from a cracked hole in the floor playing jazz instruments. One of them played a trumpet, another blew into a tuba. Charlie smiled as he moved to the music, next to another shadow demon playing the drums happily. Vaggus reached out to his boyfriend but was pulled away by Alastra and into the group.

 “Ha ha!” Alastra laughed as shadow demons appeared around them, appearing to be held together with stitches. Vaggus, Angela and Shell looked terrified, but Preppy was grinning, as if he had seen this before.

 Alastra appeared beside the bar table near Shell and Angela.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause,” she sang some more, pulling the two girls into a hug.

 Alastra plucked Shell’s eyebrow and rubbed Angela’s hat onto her head before leaving. Angela snapped her fingers with a grin and playful brows. A grumpy Shell flipped her the bird with a middle claw.

 “But we’ll dress ‘em up for now with just a smile!”

 “Just a smile!” the spirits repeated.

 Alastra appeared behind Vaggus, who stood with his arms crossed in the spotlight. Alastra waved her microphone and a fancy top hat with peacock feathers appeared on his head. A white fox scarf appeared around his neck. Then, without warning, Alastra slapped his butt.

 Vaggus jumped into the air before throwing off the scarf and hat. He turned around in fury at the Radio Demon. “Perverted witch!” he fumed as she walked away. She strolled and danced along the lobby floor, kicking a skull as she went. Preppy swept up the bone pieces in the background.

 “And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!”

 “Class and style!” sang the shadows.

 Alastra walked over to the fireplace. A horde of shadow beings walked through the gap, including a shadow version of Alastra: Artsala. (Like Rotsala, Alastor’s shadow).

 The shadow grinned a blue grin at her, before Alastra vanished the shadow with a swing of her hand.

 “Here below the ground, I’m sure your plan is sound!”

 Alastra leaned in close to Charlie, their noses almost touching. After Alastra let herself be spun around, Alastra rubbed Charlie’s cheeks before taking his arm. Vaggus stood in the background with a look of jealousy and concern. Charlie and Alastra spun around in a circle, the moment magical for both of them.

 “Could this be love?” Charlie thought. Both of them had happy smiles on their faces as they spun around. Charlie could almost see the sparkles and bubbles in the background.

 “As we spend a little time…”

 Alastra let go and prepared to finish.

 “Down at this Hazbin ho…”

 A sudden explosion cut her off. The force caused the door to blow off and fly straight into little Preppy’s face, sending him flying back. “Ow! I’m okay!” he called from the distance.

 “Madam Zmeya Fucking Dies”

 Soon the colors were back to normal and so were everyone’s outfits. The group peered out from the hole, Alastra craning her neck. The group went out onto the path and spotted a flying blimp. Madam Zmeya poked her head out from an opening in the ship, fangs bared.

 “Ha!” the snake inventor laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak!” she called, mentioning to the white spider demon. “We meet again, Alastra!”

 Alastra merely asked with a smug look, “Do I know you?”

 Madam Zmeya’s face fell before she grew angry. “Oh yes you do!” She slithered back into her seat. “And this time I have the element of…surprise!”

 She pulled a lever and a cannon lowered to the ground.

 “I’m so evil!” she declared with maniacal laughter as the cannon fired up.

 Alastra snapped her fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from her hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp. Pink smoke filled the air.

 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.

 Madam Zmeya looked on in shock as her Egg Grls 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. Madam Zmeya and another minion were thrown against the wall.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she screamed before she was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

 “Ow, that hurt!” she cried.

 Madam Zmeya screamed as she was forcefully dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. She was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Grls ran around frantically, 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 Alastra’s eyes as she curled her fingers inward. The sky vanished, replaced with red. Hovering red voodoo symbols appeared all around her as she 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.”

 Alastra closed her four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from her glowing hand. 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. Alastra smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Preppy who had a small smile on his face).

 “Well, I’m starved!” Alastra exclaimed, turning around to face the group. Who wants some jambalaya?” She spread her arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her! My father almost had a heart attack from eating it, but maybe that’s because he loved it so much!”

 Alastra laughed as she led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

“You could say the kick was straight out of Hell!” she added while laughing at her own joke. “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

 Charlie and Preppy smiled while Shell, Angela, and Vaggus looked on with concern. Preppy scurried around Alastra with a look of admiration. Angela blew Shell a kiss, which earned the druggie demon a glare from the gambler. Charlie turned to Vaggus excitedly. Vaggus reluctantly went along with Charlie’s idea, even giving him a small supporting smile. As long as Charlie was happy, then Vaggus 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.  

 Alastra continued, “Yes, mam’, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

 She glanced up and pointed her finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

 The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned,” she 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 her head. With a shaking arm, Madam Zmeya lifted herself up from the gaping hole, fangs shattered, eye swollen.

 “Now will you shoot me with your ray gun?” asked the minion.

 Madam Zmeya face-planted on the ground in response.

[mythicamagic]

Swimming in Silk: Chapter 22

Training in front of her, engaging her in conversation and now lending her his clothes…Kagome is starting to suspect that Sesshoumaru is trying to gain her attention.

Sesskag - Romance, Humour, Drama, Angst

Rated M - As always you can read this story on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here         Previous Chapter - here   Next Chapter - here

Kofi

Warning: Smut

Running in Robes~

Startled blue eyes opened wide. Her lips parted, questions on the tip of her tongue, but Sesshoumaru beat her to it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Cold, measured words slipped out through grit teeth. The replica silks were shoved up inches away from her face, shaking slightly. “Why do you carry clothes identical to my own?”

Kagome’s skin paled, dread welling up in her scent. He discarded the silks, grabbing the parting of her yukata once more and yanking, raising the miko on her knees as he bent over her like a spectre, silver hair sliding forward.

“I-I can explain-”

“You had best do so. Quickly.” His voice was a mere whisper of sound, deathly quiet. Lips peeled back to reveal sharp canines, bared and ready. “You bare the mark of my clan and deliberately concealed it from me. Glamour, was it?” He hissed.

The breath rushed out of her lungs, hand lifting halfway to touch him, before pausing, thinking better of it. “Yes. I-I never…told you before, but I’m not originally from here. My home, my ‘village’ is in the future. I travelled back in time to Edo, which is how I met Inuyasha.”

Sesshoumaru stared, anger leaking out to be rapidly replaced with confusion. “How?” He demanded shortly.

“The Bone Eater’s Well. I fell down it one day and somehow travelled back 500 years.” She paused, looking up at him. “You must have wondered why my clothes were so different. My speech and…other oddities.”

The brief image of her sitting and reading flashed in his mind. He recalled spying the contents of the page while concealed by the trees, and thinking it far advanced to what he’d learned in his studies. It wasn’t often he was presented with something completely new. If it weren’t for the amount of strange, ancient items he’d heard of transporting people places, he’d call her a fool or a liar, but her scent did not tell falsities.

“Get to the point.”

“R-right, well-” Kagome took a breath. “The Kagome you know is the girl with the uniform, at the bright young age of 15. She currently loves Inuyasha and is collecting jewel shards.”

Sesshoumaru stared, eyes narrowing. “So, you are not her?”

“I-I am her, just three years older. I know it’s confusing, but I also came back. I guess there’s two of me running around this era right now. I’m from the extra Future!” She chirped weakly, before groaning. “This isn’t making any sense, is it?”

“Regardless, you have yet to explain this,” he nodded to the silks.

Kagome winced, now touching his wrist. “You…live to 500 years in the future. We know each other well. Really well…” she trailed off.

That look. That damned look in her eyes came flooding back again and Sesshoumaru’s limbs froze, finally identifying it. His attention fixed on the mating mark practically branding her skin. The crescent moon bruising stood out starkly against her flesh. His clan’s mark. Sharp claws suddenly released their hold, and he straightened as she landed on the futon with a soft thud.

His mark.

Kagome picked herself up again, something in her expression pleading. “Sesshoumaru-”

“Enough.”

“But we need to talk about thi-”

“Enough!” He extended his single hand to hover over the silks, splaying long fingers wide. A sickly, acidic smell wafted into the air as his hand glowed green, allowing acid to pour from sharp nails. The substance leaked down, landing on the clothing like deadly rainfall. A harsh hissing noise flooded the room upon contact.

“NO!”

Kagome dove forward, scooping the clothing out of the way and crying out as the acid made contact with her skin.

His senses screamed out of control with the added flourish of her pain and distress filling his nose. Sesshoumaru snarled, snatching her wrist away from the clothes. “You fool!” He snapped.

Heedless of her sobbing, keen eyes inspected her shaking palms. Burns littered the skin in patches where the acid had made contact. The Demon Lord bowed his head, drawing a tongue over the wounds.

Kagome shuddered, making small, gut-wrenching noises as she tried to suppress her cries, squeezing blue eyes shut. Continuing, Sesshoumaru licked at the other palm, drawing slick saliva over the damaged flesh.

Hot breath fanned out onto her fingers. He watched as muted energy spread out from her mating mark, twining with his own youki leftover on her palms. It acted quickly to prevent the acid from eating further into the skin of her hands, beginning the slow process of healing.

But scars would remain.

“Why did you…” the words escaped grit teeth. Inhuman eyes darkened. “Impulsive girl. You could have lost your hands had the acid kept spreading. Why do such a thing?”

Kagome lifted her head, blinking tears that rolled down rosy cheeks silently. “If you’d stop to think for one second instead of lashing out- t-then you’d know that this is what you’re wearing right now. This clothing survived five centuries…and it’s important to him- to you.”

The earlier feelings of consuming anger and confusion were nowhere to be found. Sesshoumaru felt numb. Stunned. At her stupidity or loyalty, he couldn’t say. Being at a loss for words was not something that occurred often.

The miko cradled her hands gingerly on her lap, looking at the semi-ruined clothes. He barely noticed them, staring at her.

“…If you are mated to me in the future,” the words came haltingly, foreign. Maybe he was the foolish one, to speak of mating a human so casually. “Then why are you here now?”

“I-it’s hard to put into words, but…you actually start courting me in three years here,” she murmured. “Only, things have gotten so messed up. I can barely keep track of it anymore. I just know that when you mated me, it didn’t work right.”

Sesshoumaru glanced at her loose yukata, baring the mark. She was correct, now that he paid more attention. The bite looked like it had been deep and desperate, but he could tell a full binding had not occurred.

“The scent of death remains upon you,” he uttered. Their life-spans must not have merged.

Kagome nodded, hesitating now. Her body wilted, scent curling with stress. His claws twitched. “Our life-spans weren’t tied together, because…”

When she fell silent, Sesshoumaru’s voice came slow and cold. “You will tell this one everything, or face banishment from my sights forever hereafter, miko.”

The breath rushed out of her lungs, mild gratitude lacing her emotions. “It’s because you’d already mated me, in an earlier time. Right about…now, in fact.��

He stilled, putting the pieces together. “That explains the rapid courting,” he muttered quietly, fingers curling into a fist. “You wish for this one to take you quite soon.” His words came guarded, attention remaining fixed on her. “I have scented your want for me…but could not place why.”

Kagome’s brows pulled together, and when she made to shift closer, he stiffened. She paused, before inching back again sadly.

His chin tilted up, refined airs returning to him. “You ask the impossible. If you had told me in 500 years this one took a human as a mate, perhaps I’d be inclined to believe you, after lopping off your head. But as things stand there is no reason for me to bind myself to your side.”

Tired lashes fell shut, and Kagome bowed her head slightly.

Sesshoumaru’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. “I am curious, so humour me. Hypothetically, if things happen as you say in three years, then there is little need to fret, is there? This one could simply mate you then. Our life-spans would join.”

“I know,” she murmured. “That would probably be the smart thing for me to ask, but I can’t help but want the impossible.” Blue eyes raised to meet his, soft and loving. “You see, he’s been through so much. I can’t…just ask for all that to be erased. It would feel like a betrayal to him, all the pain he’s moved on from, all the bonds he’s made.” Kagome laughed humourlessly. “I’m afraid. I’m scared of what would happen to him if anything changed. What would be the point of everything he struggled to gain? And if I lived through those five centuries alongside you, would it hinder things? If one of a mated pair dies, so does the other, right? I’m way more liable to die in this era. In the Future, everything’s more peaceful. I can finally start to build a home with you there.”

He listened intently, despite his upbringing whispering in his elfen ear about unsuitability. She spoke with such raw honesty it fixed him on the spot, unable to look away. The person she spoke of with such reverence and respect…was him?

A possible path suddenly open to the Lord of the West looked untrodden, new. Different from the ones readily available.

But, in his mind’s eye, he could see a similar path his Father had walked years before. One that had disgraced the West.

Did you weigh these options, Father? Before laying with that human princess and betraying us?

That new path began to look stifling, with iron bars preventing escape. Footprints already paved the way for him to tread, as though he had no choice. He could not deviate. Her words implied that his fate and future was set in stone, which he riled against like a stubborn mule. He was Sesshoumaru, the Killing Perfection.

He carved out his own path.

Sesshoumaru lifted his eyes to the woman. “…This one cannot give you what you seek.”

Kagome smiled weakly, despite the hard punch of her emotions hitting his chest. She rose carefully, fixing her clothes. “I get it, believe me, I do. This is all pretty overwhelming, and I’m coming across super strong.” She glanced at him then. “But you also understand why I can’t just accept that and respect your wishes.”

The demon rose a brow, hating the way his skin pricked, blood heating. The look in her eye made him want to fight and challenge her, to throw her smaller body down and pin it beneath his, maybe even-

“I better go,” she muttered.

Sesshoumaru blinked. Go?

“Why?” The words escaped him before he could stop them. How humiliating.

“I’m gonna give you some space to think about it,” Kagome rubbed at her cheek, setting her shoulders and making for the door.

He stood, eyes narrowing. “You have barely rested,” he snipped.

“I know,” carrying on, Kagome padded down a hallway. For some reason, he followed.

“Your hands will impede your ability to wield a bow.”

“I know.”

“There is also Rin who requires-”

She stopped, turning on her heel to look at him. “So stop me.”

Sesshoumaru’s jaw clicked shut, brought up short. She had a way of aiming right at the heart of the matter and allowing the impact of the hit to hurt her, if only to make him stop and take notice. She knew he would not, yet she’d said it anyway, at the cost of her own feelings.

A soft, knowing smile curved her mouth. “…I love you, it’s that simple. I’m not a difficult puzzle to work out, Sesshoumaru. You don’t have to be suspicious of me. You don’t have to force yourself to want me either.”

Her expression remained honest and gentle, heart laid bare for him to accept or ridicule. He knew she’d take it all. Why, exactly she allowed herself to be open to hurt, like a foolish flower blooming in winter, exposing brilliant petals to the harsh bite of snow, he could not understand.

After muttering something about returning later, Kagome stepped off the porch and left through the gardens.

—–

A new, human healer had been summoned to keep watch over Rin, an old woman. Sesshoumaru hadn’t really been paying attention since scenting she bore no ill will to him. He then stepped off the porch with the sole intent of pursuing the priestess without rational explanation for why.

“Ah! Lord Sesshoumaru!” A feminine voice called.

He stopped, turning. Another demoness. This one had a floral smell, cherry blossoms adorning her light brown hair. From her scent, he supposed she must be a deer youkai.

She bowed, straightening and gesturing to the servants behind her, who rounded the building carrying dead prey over their shoulders. “Though it pained me to kill fellow woodland creatures, I did so to present them to you now.”

Sesshoumaru spared a glance at her crown. A princess.

His boots crunched over the grass as he drew forward, inspecting the various sizes of boar, rabbit, fawn and badger as the servants set them down.

“I’d very much like to display for you, my Lord. Afterwards, might we discuss what our union could bring? Such benefits aren’t to be overlooked. I’m sure you know who I am.”

Sharp claws reached out, sliding over the bloodied fur of the boar. It had died by bleeding out from a small wound, not from skill of a shot or blade. He could scent leftover terror. It had probably run for at least an hour, hunted to exhaustion. There was no respect in this kill.

He straightened, glancing at the slightly muddied boots of the servants. She hadn’t hunted alone, either. He wondered if she’d even shot one prey herself.

Even if she had…

He appraised the entire amount of kills. The gesture felt empty of meaning. He could not entirely place why it dissatisfied him. Before the miko…would he have been pleased with this?

The princess brushed her hair behind her ear, preening and watching him closely.

Look at me, her entire being seemed to scream. Look at what I can do.

“There is no need to discuss what you’d benefit from our union,” Sesshoumaru uttered, pivoting on his heel and beginning to walk away.

A faint gasp sounded out. “M-my Lord! I have travelled very far just to see you. Surely the sheer number of these kills-”

“Numbers and distance mean nothing. This one has gauged enough information to know we are not suited,” he muttered, continuing on. He ignored her sputtering, walking with sure-footed certainty. He did not know what he wanted from a mate, but he knew with certainty what he had no time for.

—-

Keeping to the shade of the high branches, he moved silently through the dense trees, boots padding softly. Naturally, youki was kept firmly locked within.

The miko kept herself open to discovery, aura acting as a beacon to approach.

He could not verbalise his scattered thoughts as he walked. It was not every day he was told his possible future lay with a priestess. An odd, absurd coupling. Add time travel to the mix and he did not know what to make of it. What had possessed his other self to act so foolishly? She had not been lying, so some mad version of him had…lain with Kagome. Mated her.

Such a thought had him picturing various things, which he quickly tried to suppress.

Sesshoumaru stopped at the border of the trees, peering over the bushes to look down at the riverbank further below. Long, smooth legs trailing into the water caught his attention first, gaze dragging up- pausing at the pink material over her thighs similar to that green thing she usually wore, soon gliding to her face.

Kagome looked down at the water as she lifted her toes from the current, gently swaying her feet into it. Her palms had been bound in bandages. The remains of his red and white silks were splayed beside her and looked to have been scrubbed. Acid had eaten into the left sleeve, the entire side littered with purplish-black burns. Something twisted in his stomach.

She had tried to clean it?

When Kagome inhaled, tilting her head up to the sunlight, Sesshoumaru’s attention became transfixed. His mouth became dry, staring.

He supposed there was…some merit to human beauty. Imperfect though it was, he could not look away.

“Are you sad about something?” A group of three children approached her, having obviously strayed from the demon village. The two boys sported small stumps where horns would eventually sprout on their heads. The little girl had scales dotting her skin in odd patches.

The miko smiled at them gently, “I’m fine. Whatcha guys doing out here?”

“Explorin! You’re that priestess we sensed who took care of Lord Sesshoumaru’s ward, right?” Asked one of the boys.

Kagome nodded, mood plummeting. The little girl gaped and thwacked his arm.

“Nice going, Shinta! Now she’s upset again!”

The miko laughed, raising her hands as the two started arguing. “It’s all good, really-” she stood, grinning at them. “I could use a distraction before going back though, who wants to play?”

Three hands immediately went into the air and Sesshoumaru could only watch uncomprehendingly as she launched into a game of tag with them. The woman ran around in the shallows, giggling like a child and shrieking when they splashed her.

He felt similar feelings when watching Rin play with such a carefree smile. He did not know why it made him nostalgic for a childhood he’d never had. He’d quietly willed himself to stop playing as a young pup, to try and grow as quickly as possible into an adult. Acting as a child made Mother coo patronisingly, and it did not catch Father’s eye. Therefore, it achieved nothing.

Playing did not conquer kingdoms or kill enemies. So he’d let go of everything that would interfere with his goals and forced himself to be content with studies and swordplay. The only time he 'played’ was when circling prey. It was not this…bright, happy thing.

And yet, when thinking of what his own pups would be like…Sesshoumaru realised he desired them to be like Rin. To hear their laughter. To be children, until it was truly time to take responsibility. To achieve that, he supposed the mother would have to be someone who could balance responsibility and tenderness.

Sesshoumaru glanced at the miko, soon shaking himself from the daydream. Obviously, such thoughts were soft and unbefitting of demons.

“Ahhh! Naraku!”

He jumped, hand flying to Tokijin- but Kagome kept giggling even as one of the boys chased her with a spider in his palm.

Sesshoumaru’s gaze turned flat, and he huffed, lips curving with mild amusement. She turned the tables and began chasing them from the riverbank, the three demons laughing and chanting 'Naraku!’ 'Naraku!’ as they ran.

A familiar, unpleasant smell caught his attention then, and Sesshoumaru straightened. Kagome stopped dead, also sensing it.

The unmistakable robe of the fire-rat became visible as the half-breed jumped from a steep incline, landing before the children.

He panted, growling. “Oi! What’s this about Naraku!” He snapped, face like thunder. “I heard ya loud and clear! Where is he? I’ll rip his damn head off!”

“H-huh? W-we don’t know any Naraku. We were just repeatin’ what the priestess said!” Yapped one of the boys, pointing behind them.

“Priestess?” Inuyasha raised his head.

But Kagome had vanished.

She’d long been swept up by a single arm, disappearing into the heights of the trees and hidden by dense, green leaves. Sesshoumaru held her securely around the waist, her curves pressing against his fur and armour. He balanced between two thick branches, back resting against one and foot planted on the other. She sat on his drawn-up thigh, face red and clutching his damp, damaged silks that she’d snatched from the riverbank.

Watching keenly through the parting of the leaves, he noticed Inuyasha sniffing the air, frowning slightly.

“Inuyasha!” An exasperated voice distantly cried.

Kagome stiffened against him, staring as her doppelganger hurried into view, adjusting a yellow backpack on one shoulder. Their companions soon followed.

“Stop yelling. I’m sure they’ll just answer your questions if you ask nicely.” Kagome sighed, brushing down her uniform and smiling at the children, who gaped.

“I-it’s you! We just saw you!”

She tilted her head, long dark hair spilling down her back. “Huh?”

The Monk put his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “A priestess that looks like Kagome, talking about Naraku…” he trailed off, wincing when the Slayer elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Inuyasha tensed immediately, right along with Kagome, a tense hush falling over the group.

“Where did she go?” He finally demanded.

The children looked at each other with confusion. “W-we don’t know, she was here just a second ago-”

Inuyasha took off running. The rest of the group called after him to stop, but nothing slowed his pace as bare feet thundered down the path. Kagome’s shoulders fell, the fox kit climbing up her arm with a worried twitch of his tail.

“It’s alright, Kagome. M-maybe he won’t find Kikyo this time?”

She exhaled, curling her hands into fists. “It…doesn’t matter, I’m totally fine,” she mumbled. “Let’s just keep going.”

The group said their farewells to the perplexed children, following Inuyasha’s general direction.

This left the Daiyoukai and priestess sitting alone within the branches of the trees. Kagome sighed into his neck, warm breath inspiring goosebumps to rise. Her voice was hushed.

“I kind of wish I could tell her not to worry.”

Sesshoumaru seemed lost in a reverie as he stared at nothing in particular. The chest plate prevented her soft curves from pressing against him, fortunately or unfortunately, but her body remained close. Their breaths intermingled as she tilted her head back to look at him, the soft sound of her breathing combining with the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze as branches swayed above them.

“Hn…” Sesshoumaru’s hand blazed on the curve of her waist. He watched as her fingers curled onto his hair- soon yanking itself away.

Kagome jumped, blushing.

Glancing at the direction her friends had last wandered off to, he ignored her slip. “Your scent was full of distress and yearning upon seeing your friends. Why?”

“I guess it feels like a long time since we’ve talked,” she laughed without humour, voice dipping like the next words were a confession. “I…miss them.”

Sesshoumaru’s weighty gaze slid back to her. He failed to understand why, but didn’t ask. “Then go speak with them,” he suggested simply.

“H-huh?!” She squeaked, starting so badly she slipped back off her perch. A strong palm quickly caught and righted her into place, choosing to ignore the way she gripped his armour. “I can’t do that. It would change too much! Not to mention it would probably freak my other self out.”

“If you merely removed that girl from the situation, it would not be impossible for you to take her place. Blend in. Especially without Inuyasha’s presence there to pick up on your mark.”

“But-” Kagome cut herself off, touching her short hair and biting her plump bottom lip. It caused him to slide his tongue on the inside of his lips.

“You are familiar with glamours. Merely change your appearance to match hers.”

“I can’t do that,” she said quietly, bowing into him slightly. “It’s incredibly kind of you-” he snorted. “But you’re my priority. I came here to try and make myself the best candidate I could to be your mate.”

Sesshoumaru arched a silver brow, inhaling and scenting her warring emotions. Keeping his own strictly under wraps, he levelled her with a haughty look. “Nothing has changed. This one commands you to approach them, for my own purposes.”

It was her turn to raise a brow, clearly fighting a smile. “Oh? For your own purposes, huh?” She leaned closer. He held his ground, but tensed. “I wonder what devious plan this links to. Is it an elaborate scheme to obtain Tetsusaiga?”

Golden eyes narrowed, before widening as soft lips pressed to a striped cheek.

His chest pulsed, palm pressing into her lower back to draw her hips closer, inwardly enjoying the way her thigh dragged against his. “This one did not give permission for that,” his voice was a touch husky. He hated it.

“No, that was on the house,” she teased. “Think of it as the human way of saying 'thank you.”

Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, sliding his foot loose from its perch and allowing them to sail down to the ground. He landed gracefully, allowing her freedom to stand.

“You’re not obligated to me, just because I like you.”

All attention swung back to her immediately, claws twitching. “Obviously not.”

Kagome held her bandaged hands up, smiling. “Don’t get all huffy. I’m just saying…I’m really glad you’re not the type to spare my feelings. You just say things as they are for you. I appreciate it, but…” she held her arms then. “Can you tell me what it is? Is it the species thing that bothers you? The time travel, or that I’m a priestess? Because I know Inuyasha’s mother was a princess, yet that doesn’t change your low opinion of her, does it?”

His blood heated, crackling with vague, dusty anger at the mere thought of Izayoi. “It is not your station or situation,” he said quietly.

Kagome waited, perhaps to hear what exactly made him hesitate. But he gave no answer, jaw ticking. Saying she was unsuitable because she was human sounded hollow. A repeated thing he said automatically like a mantra because he knew it to be so. Yet…

His instincts never lied. They kept promoting him to remember the ripple of her power over his skin. The way she’d cried but clung to his melting, burning clothes. Her tenacity and commitment to cross time for their relationship was something to respect, but he made no move to acknowledge her struggles verbally.

Blue eyes dimmed as though disappointed. Kagome turned on her heel, “a-anyway. Better go catch up to the group.”

“Hn.”

She paused, looking mildly hopeful. “Since it’s a command, you’ll come with me, right? To make sure I’m following orders?”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes cleared of the storm darkening his thoughts, before he gave a single curt nod.

—-

His ruined clothing had been packed away, the two soon catching up to the group and waiting until they made camp. Sesshoumaru felt Kagome’s buzzing excitement and nerves. The distinct longing.

The Slayer brought back a kill, and the Monk and younger miko cleaned and skinned it. He could tell by the pallor of her skin that the girl was still uncomfortable with it as this stage, not liking the dead animals.

Using some glamour he’d easily made via his youki, Kagome knelt in the clearing, having unwrapped the bandages and hidden the burns with the power, also combing it through her hair. He watched as it lengthened. Short locks spilt down, black strands falling in lush waves to her lower back.

His blood heated, fangs aching. She cluelessly straightened. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Go,” he snipped.

Kagome smiled gently, glancing at the group. “Now it’s figuring out how to lure my other self away,” she sighed. Suddenly, she perked up, watching her double walk away from camp with bathing items tucked under her arm. “Oh, right. I am a slut for hot springs,” she giggled. “Now the only problem is getting the uniform.”

“That is no issue.”

She blinked, tilting her head.

Yet she needn’t of wondered. Naturally, Sesshoumaru chose the direct approach. While her younger self bathed in the hot springs, he lept down from the trees, landing behind her near soundlessly with only a faint ripple disturbing the water. With a quick blow to the back of the head, Kagome’s unconscious form landed in the crook of his arm.

The older miko crept out, rubbing the back of her head with vague wonder while inspecting her. “This feels really wrong all of a sudden. Why did you knock her- I mean, me out?”

“After you’re done talking to your friends, she’d return to camp and likely blab about her long bath. It wouldn’t add up for your group if you’ll have spent all that time with them.”

She hummed, stripping and changing quickly into the signature uniform. Sesshoumaru watched, adjusting the naked girl against him to lay on the side of the hot springs.

Kagome sighed with dismay, the material riding up over her thighs, looking much shorter. “I guess I’ll have to deal,” she glanced at him. “I won’t be too long…thank you, again, for this. It means the world to me.”

Uncomfortable, he glanced away as she padded over and covered the unconscious priestess with a towel. She then flashed a smile, turning and leaving with nervousness clinging to her form.

Gold eyes slid down to the 15 year old. Slowly, he reached out, peeling the towel away to peep at her shoulder. Unmarked, and unclaimed.

“Apparently, you are to be my mate,” he said quietly. “Is that not the most amusing drivel you have ever heard?

And now he was talking to a sleeping person.

Sesshoumaru cut his eyes to the sky, before they inevitably returned to her. It is a foolish notion, to think you should look at me, when you are so clearly lost in want for my wretch of a brother.

Yet the older Kagome did. How? He did not understand. Pure and kind mikos did not desire great and terrible youkai. It was not the natural order. But…he did not obey the natural order. Long fingers glided up, ghosting over her cheek. He found some part of him wanted her awake. To look at him with those deep blue eyes again, sparking with anger and passion or calm and tranquil. He’d take it all.

Mine…

No. Why- when had he started subconsciously linking such a word with her? His traitorous, dazed thumb lifted from where it grazed her bottom lip.

Taking to the trees, Sesshoumaru erected a barrier around the unconscious miko, essentially making a tactical retreat from such feelings.

He blurred through the branches, stopping on the outskirts of the camp.

Kagome was currently sitting on a log next to Sango, staring at her with open love and nostalgia. The Demon Slayer hadn’t noticed, currently lecturing the Monk.

"For the last time- bending over to take something out of my bag is not an invitation!”

Miroku raised his hands. “My dear Sango. I’m quite certain it won’t be the last time I remind you of my poor cursed hand! It compelled me to rub your ample behin-”

A loud crash cut him off, the woman having pummeled him into the ground with her weapon. She hissed out a breath, soon blinking and looking at their suspiciously quiet friend.

“Kagome? Are you alright?”

She raised her head, having been stroking Shippo’s red hair as he slept on her lap. “Hm? Oh! Y-yeah,” she sniffed, waving a hand at her blotchy cheeks as she held back tears. “Totally fine.”

“Oh no…” Sango sighed, dropping the Hiraikotsu and wrapping her arms around the trembling woman, pulling her into a hug. “I knew you were more upset about Inuyasha than you were letting on. It’s alright, we’re here.”

Kagome burst into real sobs then, burrowing her face in Sango’s shoulder.

Miroku righted himself, sighing and rubbing his abused scalp as he gently removed Shippo from her lap and placed him next to a slumbering Kirara. The Monk then sat on the free space next to Kagome and pet her head, not letting his hands stray for once.

Sesshoumaru studied them, hearing her muffled wails. So different from when her own flesh had been burned. A deep-seated pain and sadness laced these cries, and he could only conclude the two friends she now embraced must have died somewhere along the way.

“I-I never thanked you, for always looking out for m-me. I’m s-so grateful,” Kagome hiccuped, now clinging to Miroku.

He looked mildly perplexed, sharing a look with Sango. However, he laughed and rubbed her back. “Well, I was under the assumption we were companions, Kagome. Dare I say, friends. Am I wrong?”

“N-no.”

“And nothing will ever change that,” Sango soothed. “So don’t fret. You’re not alone.”

Kagome let out a breath, shoulders relaxing. She then nodded, lips curving sadly.

A vicious, damning sensation assaulted Sesshoumaru then, as he witnessed the Monk’s hand stray. Bloodcurdling, white-hot anger and possessiveness, the likes of which surpassed his witnessing Inuyasha wielding Tetusaiga for the first time- swept over him. It took all his willpower to stay still, as the male’s palm cupped her ass, rubbing.

Sango’s cry deafened his ears. “LECHEROUS MONK!” Followed by a slapping sound. Bizziarly, it was joined by the miko’s fond laughter.

—

After he’d sensed Inuyasha’s approach, Sesshoumaru had flared his aura. Kagome had quickly risen, murmuring to her friends not to discuss her upset or what had happened; merely to forget the whole thing, for her sake.

Her friends agreed, not wanting to go against her wishes. She then hugged them one last time, before excusing herself to finally go and bathe. She turned tail and all but ran to the hot springs. He noticed dimly that she stepped through his barrier without resistance, removing the uniform and quickly dressing. It was around that time that the younger Kagome started to stir, and Sesshoumaru swept down, grabbing the older miko and dissipating the barrier.

As they hid in the trees together once more, they observed Inuyasha’s return, coupled with a confused Kagome mumbling about how she must have hit her head while bathing.

Sesshoumaru then saw fit to finally leave. He took to the skies, carrying his weird 'not-mate’ back towards the demon village. Kagome sat in the crook of his arm, legs supported by mokomoko. Though her arm had slid around the broad shoulders of the Daiyoukai, he did not chastise.

“Why did you let me talk to them?” She murmured, cheek resting against his collarbone. “You helped me. Went to a lot of trouble, too. It didn’t benefit you in any way.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. “This one has some respect for you. Since I cannot return your feelings, this is an attempt at compensation. Feel honoured. This one is not usually so generous.”

Kagome hummed, long hair melting back into short black strands that ended above her shoulders. “I see,” she lifted her head, again pressing her soft lips to his cheek.

A low rumble accompanied the action. “You are taking far too many liberties with my person.”

“I was saying thanks again,” she said innocently. “Do you want me to say sorry too?” Her voice was a playful, teasing thing.

He scoffed. “Enough,” he grumbled, disliking the good mood she seemed to put him in when things were thoughtless.

The breeze teased silver hair back as he glanced at her. In the quiet of the night skies, for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two beings in existence.

Kagome gazed at him as no other had before. He’d glimpsed it many times in her eyes, but did not look away in this instance. Irrevocable, powerful emotion held him anchored to the blue depths of her eyes. It was strange and foreign. He had been admired by so many. Held up on a pedestal as a protege of sword fighting at a young age. Female demons coveted his power, lands, or body. That was no new thing.

“…I love you, it’s that simple. I’m not a difficult puzzle to work out, Sesshoumaru.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze lowered to her lips, a roar in his gut to act. To move. He then noticed they were flying by the village. Shifting, he changed course and began descending, the moment vanishing but not forgotten.

“I can’t stop, or let it be enough,” she murmured as she was set down on the wooden porch. “I’ll keep trying for you, until there’s no doubt it’s impossible between us. Until I disappear.”

“You are persistent,” Sesshoumaru uttered. “Some may find that irritating.”

Kagome flashed a smile. “You’re the one who came to find me, and you brought me back to the village for no real reason. Now who’s the stubborn one?”

Gold eyes widened, horrified that she was indeed correct. He had no use or purpose to excuse her being there. Rin was well now.

He watched, stunned as she bowed and padded away, walking to her room and adjusting the bandages over her palms. He then turned, determined not to think of her, or sense her in that damn house. Alone in her room.

As he lay in his nest of furs, muscular limbs stretched, a telling sigh escaping pale lips. The stump gave a phantom pulse, as it often did, wanting to replicate the feel of stretching. Sesshoumaru stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him a willing victim.

But no such mercy snuffed out his thoughts. His palm heated with want to touch. He shifted, pants tightening as his mind raced with vague images. Her writhing form, back arched, sweat sliding down, breasts bouncing. If he focoused, he could recall the sound Kagome made after drinking- an exhausted, exhilarated pant. Magenta stripes pulsed and stung, recreating the sensation of her mouth on his flesh as his hand cupped his thick, needy-

Sesshoumaru sat up.

Kill.

He needed to kill something. That was the only reliable way to purge his instincts- thoughts. He meant thoughts.

Youki fizzled and crashed out of his body in a thunderous tidal wave of a roar. He dressed, yanking on his armour with the usual frustrating difficulty and blurring outside with the flutter of silken sleeves trailing in the breeze.

He flew for hours, searching, wanting, needing a fight.

—-

His desire remained unsated all night. He could have tracked down the half-breed, but that would involve seeing the younger miko, and he did not think that a wise idea at the moment.

Gravelly disappointed, he glimpsed the sunrise and decided to turn back toward the village. At least the indecent images had all but vanished. He flew for some time, descending about 10 miles away from his destination, deciding to walk. It gave him time to wander, tense limbs slowly relaxing. Surrounded by the hush of morning and brightening skies, all bloodlust melted away. He even daydreamed a little.

“Men! Ready your weapons!” A distant voice boomed.

Only, when Sesshoumaru lifted his head, he realised that human soldiers had approached and were now closing in around him.

How…irritating. Where had they been an hour ago? His eye twitched.

He allowed them to surround his form. Made for an easier way to decapitate them with his poison whip if he just angled it in a circle. When they inevitably let their arrows fly, Sesshoumaru struck his wrist down. A blaze of light followed the action, and he flicked it up, turning and allowing it to strike 10 humans down with a harsh slash. Blood spilt, rising high like their wails.

Yes, this was what he’d needed. Killing was second nature. Similar encounters had played out the same way every time, he barely needed to pay attention.

What he did not anticipate, was a soft-tipped arrow bouncing off the tree trunk next to him. The impact sent a strange scent scattering into the air.

He inhaled the powder it gave off, before wincing and covering his nose. It smelled strong, biting. For some reason, it irritated his tear ducks, causing his eyes to sting and inevitably squeeze shut.

Rubbing at them with annoyance, a sharp pain blazed on his arm as something slashed the side. He reeled back, feeling blood soak the material. Acid that tasted like humiliation and rage coated his tongue.

One of the men cheered.

“C-captain! It worked! Your idea worked!”

“Ha! What did I tell you, men? With this success, we can start spreading word of how to rid demons from our-” something zipped through the air over Sesshoumaru’s shoulder, the sound of a weapon skewering flesh soon following. “Gah!- Shit! What the- who shot that arrow!”

Gentle scents and holy power answered his own question. He could hear running and fluttering of robes draw closer.

A soft palm touched his bicep above the wound. “Sesshoumaru.”

He tried to crack stinging eyes open, only to growl.

“They must have put something in that powder, but don’t worry. I’m sure your eyes will recover from whatever it is soon,” she muttered, her voice rounding him. Sesshoumaru inhaled, finding her close in front of him.

“Foolish. This one does not need assistance, I can dispose of them even in this condition.”

Reiki crackled in the air, seconds before the sound of impact. The clang of a steel sword bounced off what he imagined to be a shield of holy power. “I don’t doubt that, but- gn,” he heard the sound of a bowstring. A choking cry of a mortal rang out soon after. “Let me do this. I promise nothing will touch you.”

He began to loathe the darkness. Lack of sight was a frustrating thing, even more of a handicap than his missing arm. Yet if he focused, he could sense the reiki swimming over her skin. Hear the scrape of her heel dragging on dirt and feel the pressure of her back against his arm, firing another arrow. Her muscles coiling and relaxing.

“Gah! Y-you’re a priestess, arent you? W-why are you killing my men!” The Captain shouted.

“Because you’re trying to kill my mate!” She fired back, a strange, tenous note to her voice. “All of you get back! I won’t let anyone hurt him again!”

Again? Perhaps she was referring to his stinging eyes.

Sesshoumaru sensed a disturbance in the air on his left, cutting through the scents. A stray dagger. In the seconds it took to reach him, tense muscles coiled, readying his right arm to strike it away before it could reach- but the sharp sensation of reiki engulfed the air inches away from his face. The sound of metal clanked off the shield, and Sesshoumaru quietly conceded.

He’d allow her free reign.

More cries of death filled the air, along with the scent of blood. The men cursed her foully and kept coming, more and more boots crunching on grass.

“Witch! You must have been tainted by him!”

“Kill her!”

“No one hesitate just because she’s a woman, lop off her traitorous head!”

Sesshoumaru felt her nudge desperately into his side and obliged by sidestepping something that whizzed past his nose. He scented her sweat, heard laboured breathing, but Kagome kept moving around him, raising shields or firing.

Squeezing his eyes, Sesshoumaru pried at magenta lids, but the shapes and colours awaiting his gaze were blurry as tears stung his lashes, forcing them closed again.

“How many?” He muttered.

“Maybe-hah…twenty. I-I can keep going.”

It was out of respect that he remained still, tilting his head down when a body and the clank of armour thudded near his boot. A pointed ear twitched, picking up on the sounds of rustling in the trees surrounding them. Instinct warned him something was off.

Hard fingers grabbed him suddenly by the shoulders, fisting in the material and yanking. Sesshoumaru found himself knelt down, surprise rendering him speechless. He felt her lean over him, body bumping his nose and blocking out the light behind his eyes.

Her form then jolted sharply four times, a strangled gasp filling his ears.

Something wet flicked onto striped cheeks. The iron scent of blood drifted into his startled senses.

“…Miko?”

The hands on his shoulders shook, and arms encircled him. Sesshoumaru forced his eyes to snap open, tilting his head up- only to find a blurry, bloodied arrowhead inches from his nose, sharpening into focus. It jutted out from her hip, having punctured straight through flesh. Kagome trembled over him, a wheezing noise escaping her throat. She tried to smile encouragingly, but coughed, more splatters of that wet substance landing on his forehead.

“S-sorry, that’s so gross,” she wheezed weakly, struggling to stand.

His shock melted away, standing the moment her knees gave. He caught her around the waist with his single arm, looking down to find three more arrows embedded into her back. From the upturned position of the fletchings, he knew they’d been fired from the trees.

War cries sounded out around him, shouting their victory. “The witch is dead! The witch is dead!”

Youki raced over his skin, flowing red and ragged, coiling larger and larger. His fangs lengthened and ached, markings blazing bold and cutting over his cheekbones.

Shifting Kagome to lay down on her side, he straightened and drew Tokijin. Blurring in a streak of white, his jaws opened to let out a bellowing snarl that ripped itself from the depths of his chest.

He swung the blade, watching with red, burning eyes as it cut through the waist of a man, severing torso from legs. The solider screamed, but it wasn’t enough. Sesshoumaru channelled youki to the blade, allowing it to coil with the sword’s natural power and letting it burst forth with one swing. More cries rang out with the explosion of terror. He kept moving- impaling the sword in a man and letting go of the hilt to turn and pull a throat out, swinging blood-coated claws up to disfigure faces or rip through limbs, muscle, sinew and bone.

He panted and coiled, springing and lashing out with all the rage of a feral canine.

When the final mortal fell, he stood among the carnage, dimly noting he’d never made such a mess in the past. Raising his arm as he caught his breath, he noted his clothes were soaked with blood. Usually he was precise, able to see the individual flecks in the air. He’d avoid them, never marring his pristine white and red silks.

Sesshoumaru heard faint wheezing then and surfaced from the hunger. He sheathed Tokijin without cleaning the blade and approached the fallen woman, shifting to kneel.

Kagome looked up at him with wide eyes, fear leaking into her scent. He wondered if his appearance frightened her- before she reached out and clutched his bloodied sleeve.

She was afraid to die.

From the sound of her laboured breathing and the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, he suspected her lungs had been damaged. From instinct alone he knew that type of breathing to be fatal. She coughed, sending more of that red substance onto the ground.

Her pain kept irritating his skin, a heavy pressure weighing on his chest. He felt unable to move, frozen solid. Sesshoumaru stared down at her, seeing every twinge and wince as she struggled to breathe through the panic. The heart in her chest pounded. The wheezes quickened, until she made awful, panicked noises that curdled, forcing her to cough and retch.

Dazedly, he reached out and faintly brushed bloodied knuckles over her pale cheek, mindful of his claws.

Kagome made a noise, shuddering as tears slid free from those enchanting blue eyes, shortly before his palm slid them gently shut.

He then curled numb fingers around her neck, snapping it in one clean, quick motion.

The noises stopped.

Her heart thudded, once, twice, in her chest, then no more.

Sesshoumaru did not think as he yanked the arrows loose from her body. He did not stop to consider that this could be it. That he could leave the miko here and continue on with his life, unchanged. He’d surely never have to question his duty again.

But instinct and raw, encompassing desire guided his hand to Tenseiga. He was deaf to its pulses, wanting him to save her. It was his own will and supreme pride that made him absolutely reject the notion that Kagome Higurashi should lay dead. Tenseiga pulsed with a brilliant, blinding shine as it slid from its sheath. The light illuminated the pall-bearers skulking around her body, readying chains to pull her heavy soul to the underworld.

Sesshoumaru struck his blade through both of them in a wide sweep, watching as their forms disintegrated into nothingness.

Sheathing Tenseiga and leaning down, he slid his arm around her waist. Lifting the lifeless miko up to lean against him, he allowed her head to rest on the fur lining his shoulder, his lips brushing against her brow for some inexplicable reason.

“Miko, wake up.” He commanded.

Kagome lay still, enough to send a thrill of charged alarm racing up his spine. White-hot heat of unacceptability. Why wasn’t she moving? He demanded her to. Youki raced over his skin, skittering uncontrollably. It reached out into her, willing her limbs to animate, instincts screaming- until her heart started to beat. It fluttered like a caged bird, and his energy coaxed it to thud stronger. She shifted slightly, the wounds on her body closing, leaving behind faint marks.

Her back then arched as she jolted, sucking in a large, strangled breath and gasping. She panted, looking around with wild eyes. They eventually snapped to him and remained fixed, as though clinging to his image within the storm of confusion.

“Se- Sesshoumaru?” She breathed. “What happened? I was-”

“You died.”

Blue eyes shook, holding him captive. He wondered what she saw, what expression he was making. Surely he looked calm.

Shaking fingers reached and curled onto his shoulder, breath shuddering as she blinked tears from her eyes. “…You saved me.”

“I was returning the favour,” he quietly uttered. The Daiyoukai held still when those fingers strayed up, thumb brushing over the bloodstained moon on his forehead. His eyes darkened, falling into a half-lidded stare as she stroked it. For some reason, he remembered the ridiculous female demon from earlier. “This one does not understand why you did such a thing. My eyes were closed.”

Surely she’d known about Tenseiga. Someone like that demoness would pull something like this just to get attention, to 'prove’ their affection. But the miko had done so without him witnessing her moment of sacrifice. She’d done it…with the sole purpose of protecting him, he distantly realised.

Kagome tilted her head in confusion. “Why does that matter? You were going to get hurt and-” she exhaled, shuddering a little as though just realising what had happened. “My body just moved. I couldn’t bring my shield up, so I-”

Sesshoumaru leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. As though it were the most natural thing to do. All at once, it felt as though something clicked. He exhaled a sigh that sounded vaguely of surrender, tilting his head to kiss at her bloodied jaw.

He thought no more of bloodlines, suitability, duty, heirs. He saw no stars, heard no birds singing. Light did not crash behind his eyes. But the soft sensation of her lips against his commanded him in a way no other had. It was a kiss that felt like fresh, summer rains, gentle yet powerful, confirming something unspoken between them. His tongue slid inside the hot cavern of her mouth, tasting the blood she’d shed for him and making her breath hitch.

Kagome made a small, startled noise, before it crumpled into something else, pushing closer shakily. Slender arms wrapped around his shoulders, hand curling in his hair. His mouth melded over his with enough force to steal her breath, claws catching in her clothes.

Taking a respite from the kiss, Kagome backed off in an attempt to say something. Except she never got a word out, because she’d barely moved her mouth off Sesshoumaru’s when he chased needily, drawing her back into another kiss and wrapping his arm tighter around her: lest she escape again.

He then shifted to stand, mokomoko curling to support her under her legs. Sesshoumaru then took to the skies, leaving the blood-soaked grass and death behind them.

Kagome clung to him, burying her face in his neck and hesitantly pressing kisses there. A noise built in his throat, spilling out as a pleased rumble.

The Daiyoukai dipped low, blurring through the trees. Guided by burning instinct, he sought one of his hideaways which lay behind a waterfall. With total disregard, he flew straight through the falls into the shadows of a cave, effectively soaking them and causing the miko to squeal.

“Sesshoumaru! W-wet clothes!” She groaned as he touched down.

He lifted her higher, closing his mouth over her ear and nipping. “It hardly matters, you’ll be out of them soon enough.”

Kagome blushed, hands moving to the front of his clothes. “You…want to?”

Her citrus flavoured scent drew him closer, burying his nose into her neck. His lungs expanded as they filled with nothing but her in long, deep inhales. “It should be obvious by now,” a wet, warm tongue drew out to lick the expanse of her throat. “You have won. Now take the spoils of war.”

Kagome’s breath shuddered, and she gripped the collar of his hanjuban tighter. “R-right. Oh. Oh…” she seemed to realise what he meant. “Can you uh- set me down then for a sec?”

Amused, he complied, steadying her when she swayed.

If he did not believe her claim of mating him before, there was certainly no doubt when she started to undo the ties and secures of his armour with a practised hand. Sesshoumaru lifted it off him when she was done, clandestine gold watchful, waiting.

She blushed like a maiden but drew in close, starting to disrobe him like a seasoned lover. Impatient lips crashed to hers, unwilling to be still any longer as silks slid back off his shoulders to pool on the cave floor, leaving him half-naked. He kissed her rougher than before, biting her bottom lip and shuddering when she did the same.

Gliding bloodstained claws lightly over her cheek, they scraped without leaving a scratch, completely at odds with the violence he’d committed not long before.

Leaning up, Kagome pressed her lips to the crescent moon on his forehead.

“This body is yours,” she murmured, placing his hand over the racing heart in her chest. “This heart too. All of it.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly, looking down at the petite, strong hand on his large one. Gritting his teeth, Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted, pulling her flush against him. His tongue sought hers, brushing inside her mouth and deepening the kiss, panting.

What he did not expect was Kagome pushing and urging him to kneel down, soon straddling his lap. She then licked the stripes on his cheek, playing dirty.

Sesshoumaru jolted and shuddered, panting. His claws bunch in her clothes, ripping them off like shedding skin, taking the bindings with it. This left the scrap of cloth over her sex the last thing covering her. He grabbed her hip and rutted her into him, pressing the shaft of his growing erection gainst the space between her legs. Kagome made a noise, dipping her head just as he raised it- accepting her needy kisses and groaning into her mouth. Kagome moaned, body aching and screaming to meet with his.

She then, for some reason jolted, pulling away slightly to tremble.

“What is it?” He panted.

“N-nothing, it’s just…I-I kind of died.” She breathed, shaken. “H-huh…”

The haze cleared from his eyes, and he took notice of the slight twitches and trembles of her body. The clothes he’d shed clung to her in ribbons.

Sesshoumaru did not exactly know how to comfort her. Yet she did not ask him to. Instead, Kagome slid her arms around him, merely… moulding herself against his form in an embrace for a moment. Guided by faint instinct, he slowly turned his face into her hair, making a low, crooning noise.

He pressed kisses to her neck, drawing his tongue out to lick the underside of her jaw, sliding it up to trace the invisible path of old tears.

When he licked a certain part of her throat, she crinkled her shoulders up- giggling dimly. She then slid her fingers into the softness of his silver hair, stroking.

“It’s okay…I’m okay,” she muttered, leaning into him.

“You have not said how you came to be there. Did you stalk me?” He teased, if only to bring out her playfulness.

“I sensed you leave last night. From the youki, I could tell you were pissed and, I guess I wanted to help. Followed you out here but got a little lost until I sensed you eventually. So, yeah I guess I did stalk you.” She smiled faintly and shifted, kissing his ear and whispering; “Just help me forget.”

Urgent lips pressed to feverish skin. A clawed hand cupped her breast, squeezing and rubbing. Before he knew it, he was lavishing attention on the mating mark on her shoulder, drawing a hot tongue over it. An odd, ridiculous possessiveness overcame him, wanting to brand her with his mark. Well, it was his- but he wanted his own. To reflect this moment. And he wanted it to outshine the previous, incomplete one.

Sesshoumaru jolted upon feeling her own mouth hit a little too close to a certain spot.

Kagome drew away from his left shoulder, blinking at him. “Is it okay…to touch?” She asked quietly, glancing at the stump.

His jaw ticked, and he glanced away, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her underwear. “Do as you please, but be quick.”

Her mouth peppered over his shoulder, leaning to kiss his forearm, stroking down his muscle until her fingers inevitably met the end of the flesh. Yet she remained gentle, rubbing the tense, forgotten thing there. He’d wanted to dismiss it entirely. His mistake. Female demons certainly did.

But it felt as though she were unwinding something.

“You are paying much attention to it, as though it is new for you. Has my future self regrown the limb?”

He’d heard it was possible for stronger demons, but could take centuries.

Kagome bit her lip. “Spoilers. A-ah!” His teeth latched onto her ear, nipping and sucking the shell. She blushed as her panties were dragged down her thighs. He began to rub her slick folds with his knuckles.

“You are calling to be satisfied…here,” he said quietly, cupping her sex with his hand and squeezing. He pressed his thumb hard against her clit, rubbing with a firm pressure.

She made exquisite sounds, beginning to squirm and move, drawing her hips forward and mewling. Sharp teeth flashed, and the Daiyoukai leaned down, shoving her to lie back on the hard, cave floor as he slid a wicked tongue over her nipple, taking it into his mouth.

Kagome gasped out, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to muffle herself.

Her hands strayed. She was not hesitant about finding purchase for her fingertips along the ridge of his shoulder blades, before continuing her southbound expedition of his warm, muscular back, finally closing in on his ass. Sesshoumaru made a noise against her breast when she squeezed. He sucked the hardened peak in retaliation, scraping fangs over it and causing her to moan and jolt.

The reactions of her body were perfect, his digits becoming slick with proof of her arousal. Smelling the heady scent made his instincts roar louder, thrown into a frenzy, wanting to shove her down and take her, but he dimly recalled something he’d been curious about.

“Who was it…that took your innocence?” He muttered, lazily swirling his tongue over her breast as he stroked from thigh to knee. She felt so soft and pliant, yet muscled and scarred in others. He found he liked it.

Kagome stiffened, looking at the cave ceiling. “I-it hardly matters right now!”

Sesshoumaru frowned and growled, nipping her flesh. “Who did it?” He asked, rubbing her clit and dragging his teeth over her ribs.

She shook her head, crying out when he punished her with more bites, sucking on her skin to leave marks. “Gn…it was…I-Inu-yash-ah!”

Sesshoumaru bit her neck, less than satisfied with this, though he’d suspected as much. He slid a large hand down, raising her leg and shoving it to spread wide. His head then descended, shoving an eager tongue inside her sex.

Kagome cried out loudly, hips bucking up against his mouth and squirm uselessly as she growled, matching his own snarl in volume.

“Where does your loyalty lie? To whom does it belong to,” he purred, sucking on her clit.

Her legs shake on either side of his head. “T-to…” she started, before she’s overcome with another moan.

His mouth presses bruisingly hard against her sex, grazing sharp teeth over her and delighting at the subsequent noises. His hand reaches to grab her generous behind, squeezing as the Monk had done.

Mine.

It doesn’t take much for her body to tighten and release, much faster and more violently than he anticipated. The taste of her flowed richly onto his tongue and he sucked on her nectar wantonly, smiling darkly and shifting up slightly.

Yet no sooner than he’d done that- firm hands were suddenly grabbing his shoulders, shoving.

Gold eyes widened, finding himself sitting back on his heels like before as Kagome balanced over him. “You think that’s funny, huh? Asking where my loyalty lies after everything that happened? Everything I offered of myself?” She hissed, the sound rivalling acid burning on skin. “Don’t toy with me. I’ll show you if it’s such a concern, since you like action so much better than pretty words, right?”

Steady fingers reached down, loosening his sash with a firm yank. He made a startled noise, feeling her reach into his hakama and free his hard, pulsing cock. He hissed at the contact, snarling at her nerve- but her mouth crashed to his. Positioning it, she pushed herself down to take his length deep inside her core.

Sesshoumaru gasped into her mouth the same time she did, their breaths intermingling. Startled eyes bled red, markings turning bold.

She moaned loudly, back arching. Firm breasts press against his chest. She held his shoulders, fingers digging in as she started to move, rocking her hips in a slow, erotic dance.

“G-good enough for you?” She managed out between breathy mewls and moans. She ducked her head to the pulse of his neck, sucking sharply to leave a trail of marks and soon biting down.

He growled, eyes growing heated, cock twitching inside her, telling her the position aroused the demon more than angered him. She couldn’t seem to stop moving, rutting her hips harder to slide him deeper into slick folds.

The pace was altogether too teasing though, and as soon as his shock wore off, he rammed his hips up- thrusting so hard and fast it bordered on painful.

A scream ripped past her lips, sinking blunt teeth into his arm as her pure, blinding aura rose, threatening to swallow him whole. Sesshoumaru let out a dizzying blaze of energy, grasping black hair and tugging her head to expose her neck, drawing a hot tongue out and sliding it over her pulse until he found her mouth and kissed her hard. Kagome tried her best to ride him, but the two struggled and snarled, blunt and sharp nails dragging. Bitten lips stung, skin began slick with sweat and saliva. The falls outside only muted their noises so much, the wet sounds of their bodies growing louder.

He roared, fucking her harder, making her mewl in pleasure, every nerve ending singing it’s praises of his rough treatment, poised to explode. Suddenly, he felt her release- inner walls clenching impossibly tight around him as she cried her rapture until it died hoarsely in her throat.

“I…love…you,” she moaned weakly.

Just as those words registered, he was roaring, biting into her shoulder over the mark and tunnelling his cock deep, shooting thick hot spurts of his seed inside her, the sheer amount leaking out of her sex and down her thighs. His youki forced its way inside her bite, racing along the already trodden path along muscles and bloodstreams, working to try and bind her to him.

Sesshoumaru lapped at the bloodied flesh, panting hard. He did not think to check it, to know if they were fully bonded. The pleasure was too great for both to realise he’d been left unmarked.

Their bodies sank into a tangle of limbs, resting against each other.

He languidly buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent and tasting the salty sweat of her skin. Kagome slowly caught her breath, quiet for a few moments until she spoke once more.

“Sesshoumaru…you have to promise me not to say anything about this. Not to my younger self. I had no idea, and…I don’t want the timeline to change.”

Drawing away slightly, he stared at her. Fear and worry were etched into her features. Though it pained her, he sensed she kept silent on many things she wanted to change, out of some possibly misguided desire to protect him. What he’d become in the Future.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder, Sesshoumaru exhaled. “This one gives his word not to speak of it.” Burning, golden eyes appraised her. “What will become of you now?”

“I have to go back,” she smiled slightly. “You’re waiting for me.”

“Hn, you are aware this one could simply refuse to approach the younger Kagome in three years time, thus preventing anything from happening.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you just mated me.”

His eyes smiled, lips curving cruelly. “Perhaps I merely wanted to slake my thirst of you, miko. Sate the desire, nothing more.”

“If that’s how you feel, I guess I can’t stop you.” She hummed, unconcerned and sliding a lazy hand over his chest, before cupping his cheek and guiding him down to meet her lips. “But we’d both be missing out on sating it over and over again.”

Sesshoumaru slid his tongue inside her mouth, brushing within its depths. He would have turned her over to begin a second round, were it not for the mating taking a toll on his youki, rendering him exhausted.

I will merely…doze for a little while.

He drew away from her lips, pulling her into him with his single arm around her waist, softening cock remaining within her slick heat. Half-mast eyes slowly slid shut, mokomoko draped around them.

While falling into a place between waking and dreaming, he felt soft lips gently press to his brow.

—-

The heat at his side had vanished.

Inhuman irises snapped open, darkening. Where?

He shifted, turning to find the space beside him empty. The scent of the miko lingered, but she was not within the cave. Drawing himself up to sit, Sesshoumaru glanced at the ruined, shredded clothes he’d freed her from. She could not have gotten far, perhaps she was merely bathing in the pool of the waterfall.

Standing, he padded out behind the heavy curtain of falling spray, shifting his gaze as it adjusted to the light.

The pool was empty.

'Until I disappear.’

It then clicked for the Daiyoukai that, just as suddenly she had appeared, Kagome had departed.

It also clicked that he had neglected to ask many, many, many questions. But perhaps that was her parting gift. She had left him to decide what path they walked.

[saintjosaphime]

Stab In The Dark|| Deirdre and Josephine

Cemetery. Wine. And Venus in retrograde. A perfect end to Valentine’s Day.

Josephine had a special talent. One not entirely connected to her powers of justice, but not completely separate. It was a talent that she’d grown, because she’d learned that her hunches were almost always right. And her hunch about Deirdre, was that she wasn’t quite normal. Though White Crest was made up mostly humans, there were signs, when talking to a person, that could easily point someone towards “not quite human”. And Josephine had honed those skills over time, because it paid off for someone like her to know these things. Knowledge was power, after all, and Josephine was something even more powerful. 

So it was with this mindset, that Josephine found her way into Hambry Cemetery, picnic basket, blanket, and pie in hand. It was definitely one good way to end a night, and perhaps one of the best ways to end a Valentine’s Day night, because Josephine would win out either way. Learning what Deirdre was was the main goal of the night, but having side goals was always good. Shoot for the stars, she’s always told her kids. Reach for more than one and you’ll always catch something.

She spotted Deirdre up on a little hill, near one of the benches the park provided for morose and mourning visitors to rest on. Hambry was one of the nicer ones in the main town, and though Harris Island was probably nicer, Josephine was glad she hadn’t had to take the twenty minute ferry ride over. The closer she got, the more she felt it. Deirdre’s hidden resent, bottled up side of her as if she were a Matryoshka doll. But Josephine knew it was there. And Josephine knew, with certainty, Deirdre wasn’t human. “You know, I made a bet with my bank teller you would be here. He said you wouldn’t show or that you’d try to murder me, but looks like he was wrong,” she said as a greeting, giving a toothy grin. “Well...so far. The night is still young.”

Any day Deirdre could convince someone to come to a cemetery with her was a good one. Were she a less arrogant woman, she might have been shocked that so many people agreed to the proposal. Of course, she wasn’t. So she chalked it up to her charm which spilled flawlessly even over the internet. She titled the telescope a little, catching sight of the star she wanted, glowing brightly against an inky sky. It wasn’t how she wanted to be spending her Valentine’s night, but this was better than thinking about someone she really shouldn’t be. She heard Josephine first, trying to conceal her frown as she turned around. So not a fae or an undead, a shame. She’d have to work her way around feigning interest in a human; hopefully Josephine wouldn’t make that too hard. “Looks like you won some money with the bank teller then,” she turned, offering a smile in return and gesturing for the woman to come closer. “You can’t tell me I look more beautiful than the stars standing all the way over there!” The banshee stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, laughing. “Oh, I don’t murder the pretty ones. Though I might still; depends on what you’ve got in that basket there. Wine?”

Deirdre had a nice lilt to her voice. Not American. Josephine smiled again as she stepped closer, holding out the basket. “Well I’m glad to know I’m pretty enough for you to not murder me,” she said. “Wine, among other things.” She moved as if to hand Deirdre the baset, then set it promptly next to them, dropping her blanket on top before moving past Deirdre to the telescope. Didn’t move to look through it yet, pausing when she was between Deirdre and the lens. “Well, how can I honestly say that if I haven’t seen the stars yet? Find any good ones? Any shooting stars we can wish on tonight?” she asked with an innocent grin and tilt of her head. Deirdre was a nice looking woman, too. Long brown hair, dark enough that it soaked up the moonlight and gave off a nice sheen. Pale face, dark eyes staring out from her white skin. Josephine figured some sort of English-- perhaps Irish-- decent. And the most common species over there was fae. Sure, it was still a shot in the dark, but Josephine was nothing if not smart in her deductive reasonings. And by the end of the night, she would get the answer from Deirdre, one way or another.

There was a way about Josephine that annoyed Deirdre, though she lacked the words to explain it. Perhaps it was the way she could so casually flip something back, or the ease at which she could tease and feign innocence. These were moves Deirdre excelled in, but her usual mischievous nature found itself bristling against Josephine’s. But this was fine, two could play this game, she just needed to find the angle to work Josephine at. And by the fates, she wouldn’t fall for Josephine’s tricks...even if her body did tense with anticipation as the woman fluttered past. And even if she did, against her wishes, fluster. “I--that---you---that’s not---” there was a huff, followed by a pout and the petulant crossing of her arms. After a moment, shaking her head, she leaned into the telescope. “In what turned out to be appropriate for the day, you can see Venus. Science tells me that one’s not a star but now I’m worried you came only to compliment them and not me and I can’t have that---” Josephine was attractive, as Deirdre was finding everyone in this damn town was. Deirdre adjusted the telescope, sure to stand as close as she could, her cold skin brushing against Josephine’s. “There. Can you see it?”

Josephine got a smile of delight out of Deirdre’s huff and puff. Her little stutter. She was flustered and it just made Josephine all the more happy. It was clear Deirdre was used to being on the other side of things and it gave Josephine joy to know she was able to turn the tables on her so easily. “Oh, how cute,” she said, tilting her head. “Venus showed up for Valentine’s day. Very on theme. Especially with how Venus is actually filled with deathly gasses and lava, and Saint Valentine was a massacre.” Josephine with kids and Josephine with adults and potential...suitors, was a completely different person. She’d learned very early on how to separate the sweet, compassionate Josephine from the true, complex being that she really was. And she’d had so much time to practice. Deirdre was leaning into her now, and Josephine could feel the coolness of her skin. Oh, definitely Fae, then. Especially with that adorable Irish accent. Josephine didn’t respond to Deirdre’s pouting, but instead just leaned over, making sure to press against Deirdre as she did, and looked through the telescope at Venus. It was bright in the sky, a pale orange dot floating between all the other stars. “Hmmmm,” Josephine hummed, as if something were wrong. She stood up, pressed her lips together, staring at Deirdre with a hand on her chin. “No, you’re definitely nicer to look at.” Leaned forward, slowly, before skirting right by her again. “How about some wine!” She offered, flipping open her basket and holding up the bottle of Rose she’d brought for the occasion. “I brought it just to share with you.”

Cute. Deirdre’s lips twitched, her body having to fight the urge to scream--in the dreadfully normal sense. She did not get called cute, she called other people cute. Josephine might have been referring to the planet, but Deirdre knew better than to deny a coded message where it lay. This was torture. Josephine was sent here to terrorize her. “Well, you know what they say about love….it’s uh---something.” The banshee relaxed a moment later, she’d take a distraction where she could find one. And here was a very tempting one. It was her fault she couldn’t focus on it. “Huh?” She snapped up as Josephine spoke again, blinking before her thoughts scrambled to center on the moment. “Right---yes---I’m---” she gulped. Josephine turned at the last minute. Definietly torture, and Deirdre was playing right into it. “The---the wine?” she suppressed a groan. “And it’d be such a shame if we didn’t enjoy that wine right this second. There’s a flaming planet in the sky and you want to drink wine. That’s fine! I love wine.” The grumble in her voice was impossible to suppress though, and she sulked her way over to Josephine. “Did you also bring glasses or am I just supposed to look and not touch?” She reached for the bottle, fingers cautious as she considered that Josephine would just snap it away. 

Deirdre was in mourning. Over what, well, that was anyone’s guess. And while Josephine took immediate notice of this, she stored that information for later. Sometimes, it was better to play the long game. She couldn’t sideline her main quest for this new development. She held the wine bottle out to Deirdre, watching her hesitate, offering her a bit of reprieve-- a show of faith, if you will-- and pushing the bottle into her hand before pulling two glasses out of the basket as well. “Love is something,” she repeated, “wise words to live by.” She moved closer over towards Deirdre, then, stopping in front of her and reaching into her front pocket to pull out the wine opener, holding it between them, close to herself. “Oh, no-- not flaming. Venus is molten. Magma. A much more painful death,” she said, before flicking the wine opener away from herself as an offer for Deirdre to take, wondering if she would move on her own this time. “You can touch,” she said again, “I don’t mind cold hands.”

Deirdre took the wine bottle, holding it to her chest with the desire that it might warm a cold heart. It didn’t, obviously, but she’d tried at least. That was more than she could say about some things. Forcing herself to focus on Josephine and only Josephine was tricky, but a dastardly beautiful face and a teasing game made it easier. Though she couldn’t say it, maybe there was something to be grateful for in the torture Josephine was giving her. “Hm, I do like painful death,” she mused, taking the wine opener with care to let her fingers brush over Josephine’s---not as much as she could have, and certainly not as much as she should have but she was working her way up to getting in the right mindset. If Josephine spared her like she was. “You’d be one of two people not to,” she sighed, uncorking the bottle and making sure to pop it away from any pretty faces. “But I’ll remember that for when we get to the part of the night where we hold hands and sacrifice rabbits to appease Venus’ magma.” She tossed the wine opener on to the blanket, eager to free up her hands. Then held the bottle out, ready to pour. “The glasses?”

Deirdre was pouting. Which meant her mind was elsewhere and Josephine wasn’t going to have that. She was of the mind that if you were doing something with someone, all your attention should be there. If you were distracted, then you either needed to refocus your attention or stop what you were doing. And Josephine didn’t want Deirdre to stop. She’d invited her out here, and Josephine was going to hold her to that. The cold fingers brushing hers helped. It was hard to tell a fae species just by cold touch, seeing as they were all cold to the touch-- at least the more humanoid ones were. She gave a smile, one hazel eye and one brown eye shining in the moonlight as she took a step back to let Deirdre open the wine bottle. “Then that makes two of us,” she said, giving a slight nod. She separated the glasses-- one in each hand-- and held them up once the bottle was open. “Only one of two? I almost feel special. Oh, so we are doing the sacrifice tonight? I thought you’d never ask,” she said, another innocent smile. “This will be a nude sacrifice, won’t it? I don’t think I know any other way to do it.” A shrug, as she held out one glass, tapping it against the wine bottle. “Hurry, I wanna show you what else I brought.”

The idea of nudity was always alluring to a fae. Deirdre wasn’t sure if the desire to be nude was one learned or innate, but she hardly thought it mattered. She poured rosé with a steady hand, an even amount into both glasses, and smirked as Josephine went on. “And I thought you’d never ask, these clothes were starting to get suffocating and is there such a thing as a clothed sacrifice?” Josephine was nice, an easy air about her. Clearly conversation and its nuances came to her with ease, she might have categorized the woman as the sort someone could just fall into if she wasn’t half sure Josephine was working some angle here. Of course, she assumed the angle was just sex but even under her bravado she did wonder why a local would ever agree to go to a cemetery. “Alright, alright,” she tucked the bottle under her arm, taking one of the two now filled wine glasses from Josephine, “getting a little impatient, are we? Don’t you want to take your time, watch the stars, get to know each other...” The banshee smirked, it had taken a while but she could feel herself working back into her usual groove---albeit undercut with excitement for this something else. “What is it?” She asked, eagerly peering over. 

Josephine took the glass that Deirdre handed to her. “Oh, well, if you want to take it slow, then, who am I to say no to that?” She tapped her glass against Deirdre’s before taking a sip and going back over to the telescope, making sure to stay close to Deirdre as she did, leaning back in and using her free hand to adjust its gaze. She pointed it directly at the moon, the waning full moon still sitting gently in the sky like a lightbulb that was simply running out of power. Josephine stood back up, took another sip. “Don’t you ever just feel so energized by the moon?” She looked back over at Deirdre, shifting. “So, you’re from Ireland, then? Since we’re doing the whole…” gestured with the wine glass in her hand as if thinking, “getting to know you, thing. Not a lot of Irish people in Maine, usually.”  Deirdre was more focused on her now, and Josephine loosened her gaze a bit. “Got a big family back there?”

Deirdre took a slow, delicate sip of the translucent pink liquid. The sweetness coated her mouth, and her tongue darted out to catch the stray drops against her lips. She’d never admit to a sweet-tooth, but it’d be hard to deny to the person she hounded about pie flavors. “Okay…” she rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t say the moon energizes me. If you start peddling off crystals to me I’m taking this rosé and leaving.” Crystals, don’t think about those. Deirdre shook her head. This was her fault, she shouldn’t have made that damn comment about going slow. Josephine said there was something else, and now they were talking about moon energies as Deirdre found herself right back to the start in childish huffing. She set the bottle of wine down, best she could without getting it to tip over. “Aye, not a lot of Irish people here,” she blinked, the question ringing in her ears. That was the sort of thing she asked when trying to work out fae heritage. “Are you going to ask me about an iron allergy too?” She turned her body completely towards the other woman, taking another slow sip of her drink. If Josephine was a warden, this would make a lot more sense. Thankfully, Deirdre always carried a knife and thankfully this wouldn’t be her first close brush with a fae hunter. “That sort of thing,” she leaned closer, a devilish smirk on her lips and a dare sitting behind brown eyes, “puts a girl on edge.” 

Now things were getting exciting. Josephine didn’t move, just grinned back at Deirdre as she leaned in. “Crystals aren’t really my style,” she shrugged, “I don’t need something to help me feel powerful.” A matching grin to Deirdre’s, as she took another sip of her own wine. Watching Deirdre’s eyes as she talked. “You know…” she said, chewing on her bottom lip, “it was on my list. I was going to wait a little longer to drop that shoe, though. You know, you’re giving me mixed signals, Deirdre.” Definitely fae. If only she had the ability to just tell what kind. The power she could have to lord over her right now was so enticing if she could just come out and say it. But female, Irish, affinity for cemeteries. She could take a leap. It was likely Deirdre was thinking Josephine was some sort of hunter, but the thought didn’t bother her. Josephine had no opinions on people based on their species. She blinked. “Why? Does the question make you wanna...scream?” she murmured, her voice low, a smile still on her lips.

Wardens were terrible, despicable and useless creatures, but they could be so fun to taunt. Deirdre smiled, set in her deduction of Josephine, a little disappointed she’d have to kill someone so beautiful but the world was full of tragedies. “You want me to scream so soon? I thought we were taking our time,” she breathed out, not a hint of anger or fear in her voice. Wardens had a nasty yet convenient habit of underestimating banshees, this was bound to be the same. “You know,” she pulled one of several knives she kept on her person at all times with a slow and practiced motion, the one on her back being the biggest, and pressed the titanium blade gently into Josephine’s shirt. Not enough to hurt, and in a position she knew to be easily disarmable, but just enough to send the message she wanted. “Why? Do you want me to scream? Because I’d rather hear you do it.”

So she’d been right. Deirdre was a banshee and she thought Josephine was a warden. To some, this might have been a dangerous game to play, but with a knife that small and scream that could only burst ear drums, Josephine wasn’t in any danger. Therefore, the game wasn’t dangerous. Just fun. Her eyes didn’t even acknowledge the knife being drawn. Didn’t even move when the knife was pressed against her shirt, on her chest. Instead, she lifted her wine glass and took another sip. A simple gesture that spoke a thousand words-- she wasn’t afraid, and she wasn’t going to try and stop her. Because imagine the look on Deirdre’s face when blood met skin and nothing happened. Josephine swallowed, slowly, licked her lips. “Do it,” she finally said, holding up her free arm. “I promise I won’t move.”

Typical warden, underestimating her and her kind. A banshee scream could be deadly, and Deirdre knew just how. But Deirdre had to be smart. She couldn’t kill a woman she made very public plans with, and at any rate, she liked to play a little with the hunters first and this one seemed so willing to play. The promise was an interesting one, binding herself in a cocky display that even despite the woman’s hunter-background, Deirdre found herself impressed with. She lifted the knife up, pressing the cold blade into the woman’s cheek, harder and harder until a drop of blood spilled across the grey metal. “I don’t like doing what I’m told,” the banshee responded, she couldn’t kill Josephine, so there was no point in laying all her cards out. “What’s got you so cheeky, hm? Not a warden then, are we?” She drew the blade back, holding Josephine’s blood on the tip, tilting it just to watch moonlight catch on the droplet. In one motion she wiped the blood against the woman’s shirt. Deirdre was good with a blade, knew how much pressure to apply to get the results she wanted, moving her blade around the fabric of Josephine’s shirt was a ploy to show off a portion of her skill as much as it was an attempt to clean her blade---a shirt undamaged other than the blood that stained it. “Weren’t we supposed to get to know each other?”

Josephine just waited. The blade was cool against her skin, but it felt less like a cut, and more like a pinch. Cynthia had informed Josephine of this effect-- that pain would be duller, easier to handle. And that healing would be a snap. Though not instantaneous, a small cut like this would heal within the minute. She frowned slightly. “You know, I just bought this shirt,” she said, shaking her head. “Hmm? Oh, yes! We were.” She reached up and wiped the remaining blood off her cheek, moving as if to wipe it on her shirt as well, but snatching Deirdre’s bare hand instead, smearing a quick line across her skin. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me? Since I already sussed out what you are.” She sipped her glass of wine again. The cut was completely gone now, just a smearing of blood on her shirt to show proof that anything weird had happened at all. “I like you, Deirdre,” she said finally, leaning back against the grave stone they’d set up next to. “You’re bold. And attractive. Two of my favorite things in a person.” Another sip. “And you like pie. What more could a girl ask for.”

Deirdre switched her glass into the hand that held the knife, wanting to free up her hand as she simply watched Josephine. She allowed the woman to snatch her hand, not making a move to draw it back even as she knew the outcome. The iron in her blood burned against Deirdre’s pale flesh. The initial sting garnered a soft hiss and a clenched jaw, though she made no move to wipe it off---stubborn in her desire to prove something. The moonlight served as a perfect backdrop to watching the tiny cut fade off Josephine’s face like magic. She reached out, running her thumb along the spot the cut once laid. Not a warden. Though hunter wasn’t completely off the table. In honesty, she was lost. Josephine’s skin ran hot, and Deirdre was truly only familiar with recognizing the signs of the species she cared about---none of which Josephine seemed to be. “I like you, Josephine” she said, laying her palm flat against Josephine’s face, the blood on her hand dulling into a throbbing pain. “You’re clever and daring.” She pulled her hand back, finally wiping the blood off on her jeans, though the pain still lingered. “Whatever you are, I like it. But I can’t be expected to keep up with all the species that are out there. Was the crap about you being energized by the moon anything?”

Josephine let Deirdre take her time. Watching her eyes as they landed on the side of her face where the cut had been. Watching her hand as she placed it gently on her cheek. Deirdre’s hands were like ice, and Josephine’s skin puckered slightly at the touch, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She smiled again, leaning her cheek into Deirdre’s touch as she laid her palm flat on her cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page,” she said once Deirdre pulled her hand away. “Here,” she said, moving past Deirdre again, taking a large swig to empty her glass, and setting it next to the wine bottle. She dug around in her purse before pulling out a little sterile pad, standing back up and taking Deirdre’s burned hand with hers. “I don’t know, you tell me. Do I seem like someone who changes with the rising moon?” She wiped the cool pad along Deirdre’s hand where the blood had been, slowly, lingering, letting fingers brush along her knuckles. “Am I feral and raw? Or refined and collected?” She looked up into Deirdre’s eyes. “How fast can normal people heal a wound? Even a tiny cut. Don’t they usually linger or scar, etched onto fragile bodies?” She finished wiping her hand and let go, depositing the used pad into a baggy and back into her purse. “So...who needs more wine?” she asked, grinning.

Oh, definitely not a warden. They’d sooner die than help a fae. Deirdre held her hand out, palm up, head tilted as she observed the enigma. She liked games, she likes mysteries. Of course, she liked being on the other side of this tango a lot better but this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Hm,” she hummed, the coolness of the pad centering her thoughts solely on Josephine. Even as much as she liked puzzles to work out, she knew her faults better. She suspected Josephine knew too, the impossibility of puzzling out her identity with the clues at hand. Did she revel in pain? Did she delight in making someone squirm? Deridre flexed her fingers, tipping back her glass and downing the rest of her wine in one fluid motion. “You burn my hand and then you tend to it. Kind and cruel in one breath. You’re not a werewolf. You’re not a siren in anything more than metaphor,” the banshee smiled, warm and with the end quirked up in a half-smirk. “You’re not human. Not anymore, I don’t think. You’re not undead. You’re not fae. My expertise ends there.” As much as it pained her to admit. Deirdre moved closer, her head tilted up to look at Josephine from over the tip of her nose. She wasn’t much taller than the woman, but fae pride had its way of carrying itself. “Whatever you are. It’s rare,” she rasped, leaning in before snapping back and holding her glass between them. “I’d love more wine, personally. Pour me some?”

The mention of siren made Josephine’s face twitch in involuntary irritability. It was a sore spot, still, but she’d been trying her best to move on. “Not cruel, no,” she said, picking up the bottle of wine and going back over to Deirdre. She tipped it, pouring more into her glass, before pouring some more for herself. She kept hold of the bottle once she was done, however, and stared at Deirdre evenly. That fae pride really was something, wasn’t it? It seemed to be a common trait among most fae. That pride that they were, truly, the top species on earth. Josephine took another sip of wine. She didn’t care much for the feud between human and fae, because she wasn’t a part of it. She assumed, though, that it was of importance to Deirdre. “Just trying to prove a point.” She sipped her new glass of wine, the sparkly bubbles coating her throat. Her heart was pounding a bit, and she couldn’t deny her attraction to Deirdre. It was hard getting attached to people when you were going to live forever, but banshee had at least a longer lifespan than a human. She, finally, relaxed herself and smiled sweetly. “Well, then, I suppose you’ll just have to keep guessing, for now,” she said, swirling her glass. “So is this how you usually treat a woman on the first date? Stargazing and wine, a plus. Threatening them with knives? I’d like to know how that usually goes over.”

Perception was its own curse. Deirdre wouldn’t comment on Josephine’s snap of an expression change, but she noted it all the same. A question about sirens to be logged away for a possible future where she cared enough to ask. “So burning my hand isn’t an act of cruelty?” No, it was a point to be proved and Deirdre smiled. “I like the way you think.” There was a car and a zombie she pushed that could testify for her taste in dramatic idea rearing. “Oh, only the good ones, Josephine.” She grinned, the glass switching between her hands again so she could flip her knife with a flourish and catch it by the tip of its blade as it fell back down. She knocked the hilt against Josephine’s shoulder; did hollow bones make a different sound? Probably not. “So this is a date now? On Valentine’s? Do you like your clichés?” She hummed again, coating her mouth with another sip of sweet wine. “But don’t women enjoy a little danger?” Deirdre flipped the knife again, switching to tapping the blade against the woman’s shoulder. “Do you normally burn people on first dates? I bet playing nurse to injuries you caused has its own charm.” Curiosity flared up in her again; emotions, as much as she hated them, were something she hadn’t exactly mastered how to quell. The more seconds that ticked between them, the more she was starting to like Josephine. Something about her was very, very different. “We’ve also spent very little time actually stargazing. I’d say we should fix that but you’re a much better sight.” 

Josephine’s eyes didn’t much feel like looking at anything else now except Deirdre. Not even the flipping knife-- as impressive as it was that she managed to catch it without cutting herself-- was enough to draw her eyes away. The tap on her shoulder made her smile. Her head tilting to the side in that way that could make a face such as hers seem soft and innocent. “Oh, I love clichés. I work with teenagers, I wade through clichés all day long. I can’t help but love them. Do you just always invite people out to the cemetery to stargaze, then? If this isn’t a date and you don’t like your clichés?” she replied, giving a small pout. “I can’t help that I have such a caring nature. Maybe playing nurse is what really gets me going-- even if I have to make the opportunity myself.” Josephine enjoyed feeling the emotions flitting through Deirdre. It seemed she had a hard time controlling them, which told Josephine she wasn’t used to letting them come up. So whatever anger, whatever resent was settling deep in her heart, Josephine was going to have to work to bring out. But, she was okay with that. She didn’t mind taking her time with things, and Deirdre seemed worth the effort. All she wanted to do was help, after all. The world didn’t need more cruelty, but that didn’t mean it didn’t need playful deviance. “You know,” she finally said, taking a sip of her wine, letting  some of it wet her lips, so that she could draw her tongue across it slowly, “I think I’m okay with that. I’ve got my eye on something much prettier than the stars.”

“I find myself inviting people out to cemeteries with increasing frequency,” Deirdre hummed softly, her gaze darting between Josephine’s lips and her eyes. What was she saying? Something about clichés? Should Deirdre have been paying attention to that? She wouldn’t have been ashamed to admit her mind wondered elsewhere. What Josephine was saying felt important, somehow, maybe that was just the way she spoke. Like everything mattered, or that it could. “Making opportunities for yourself…” was that another clue? Deirdre tilted her head as she puzzled through it. It was, however, extremely hard to think about anything but a growing desire clawing its way through her. The banshee tucked the knife away, using the newly freed hand to tug on the end of Josephine’s shirt, rolling the fabric under her fingers. Her eyes watched every movement of Josephine’s tongue. Riddle be damned, she was right about one thing. Whatever Josephine was, it was rare. Very rare. Not a phoenix. Not a siren. Not a mara. Not human. Not fae. Not undead. What did that leave? “Something prettier than the stars?” She smirked, “oh? Like Venus? Venus is so pretty, isn’t it?” Deirdre tipped back the rest of her wine too. “How long do you live?” She blurted the moment after.  

Josephine quite enjoyed watching Deirdre try to parse out exactly what she was. It would be too easy just to tell her, after all. She smiled when a hand tugged idly on her shirt, taking the gesture and stepping forward slightly. She was enthralled with Deirdre’s eyes stuck on her lips, her face. A girl had needs, after all, and immortality or not, Josephine was one of them. Josephine gave another gentle smile, lifting the wine bottle once Deirdre had emptied her glass for the second time, and pouring more in. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to ask a girl about her mortality?” she said, watching the glass fill rather than giving Deirdre the pleasure of looking at her. Once it was filled, she emptied the rest into her own glass (a pity that wine bottles only offered four glasses) and tossed the empty bottle over onto the blanket before taking a hearty sip. “Or lack thereof.” She used her free hand to trace up Deirdre’s arm that was tugging on her shirt, till it reached her shoulder, where she rest her arm. “Venus’ got nothing on what I’m looking at right now,” she finally said, eyes burning as they looked into Deirdre’s.

Josephine was good with her words, Deirdre figured she’d make an excellent fae...if only they were made, not born. The banshee smiled; there was something she didn’t say about clichés and one she felt herself drawn into--Josephine’s eyes were the sort to get lost in, a voice that dripped like chocolate and the sharpness of a mind that hung like a dagger over it. She didn’t think Josephine would hurt her, but knowing she was oh so capable of it was part of the fun. Her hand burned as it trailed up Deirdre’s skin, a reaction due to Deirdre’s cold flesh and its usual distance from physicality than the temperature of Josephine’s. “Sorry, I’ll be more careful next time,” the banshee leaned in, wine all but forgotten in her hand as hot breath spilled across flesh. “If you grant wishes, there’s one I’m thinking of right now.” A stab in the dark, but then again, that was what her literal stab had been too. Her eyes, caught in the fire of Josephine’s, flickered down to her lips again just as her fingers tightened around the fabric of Josephine’s shirt.

In reality, 64 years wasn’t a long time to be alive. In fact, on the grand scale of things-- like living for eternity-- 64 years was little to nothing. A blip on the radar of life. But in all her years, Josephine had never met someone quite like Deirdre. She liked it, this little game they were playing. The guessing game, the threat of a knife, barely more than a child’s toy between them, the flirtation. Deirdre was definitely someone Josephine wanted to get to know more. In both a physical and metaphorical sense. Fae were rarely so open about themselves, and while Deirdre wasn’t screaming (yet), she seemed a little more pliable than most of the fae Josephine had rallied with back in Portland. Josephine didn’t care much for the wine in her hand anymore, but it seemed a waste to dump it out. She close into Deirdre now, their bodies all but pressed against each other, took the glass of wine from Deirdre’s hand, and set the two glasses on top of the headstone behind them. Telescope, wine, and stars forgotten, Josephine leaned in and finally pressed her lips against Deirdre’s. Pulled away after only a small moment and said, “Your wish is my command.”

[depressed-sock]

Abandon all Hope

Oc stuff that I most likely won’t really do anything with. 

Rating: M

Words: over 2k

tag warning: descriptions of blood and violence, minor character death

.

The world can be strange in many ways. Twisting, turning, tying itself into knots that connect to other strings of existence. Like now. Where the fabric of this world has been torn asunder, opening to planes far beyond the understanding of this one.

The air crackles with a life of its own, winds howling against the glowing red abrasion that’s been torn into the air. Hooded figures spread their arms before it, chanting and calling forth into the unknown. Amongst them, a tall figure stands in the center. Preparing to lead the ritual to its completion.

“It’s sad you thought you could stop me,” his voice is guttural and hoarse as he addresses the bodies that lie scattered on the ground. Blood pooling into the dirt around them; even as most still breathe. It’s such a waste, he thinks, that they could not truly bare witness to this victory.

A shared victory that they themselves have had a part in. Though many of them will never know.

He turns and steps forward, hood falling back to reveal a haggard old man with eyes that speak of ancients far older than himself. He moves past the servants, Their arms raised in worship of something beyond them. Past the bodies that lie drained of blood, their sacrifice fueling the heart of the ritual. Keeping it from wavering.

Past the bodies of the adventures that had thought they could stop him. The paladin sticks out the most from all of them. An ax protruding from their head reflects the events that continue around their still form. And shows his final approach and destination to the one he needs.

Such a pity. Such a waste.

There’s living amongst those who lie dead, stirring and trying to rise back to their feet. A useless endeavor as their hands slip from under them, their strength continuing to give out. They had never stood a chance. Just as he had planned.

The one he wants lies still, body twisted at an odd angle that leaves their legs sideways and their chest and face staring towards the dimming stars. He almost fears they might be dead but then he sees the uneven rise and fall of their chest. The Tiefling stares blankly at the sky with distinct red eyes akin to that of a dragon’s. His long bloody black hair sticks to pale skin patched with red scales and a beard that hides any trace of his true age.

Such a strange creature to look so human and yet his blood is filled with that of beings far greater.

A pity that one of his horns is missing, the man thinks as he tilts the Teifling’s head with his foot examining the spot of the missing horn. An ugly red scar that smooths away any previous protrusion. Most likely ripped and burned from his head long ago.

“Abandon.” the man stops his foot, keeping it in place on the Teifling’s head. A frown on his lips. “Such a sad name you’ve chosen.” He tilts his head as the Tiefling bares his fangs in response, too weak to do anything else. “But not an inaccurate one at least.”

The man then smiles, stepping back as he signals his servants forward, “Grab him. He’s the last piece we needed that our friends here so nicely provided.”

The Tiefling doesn’t fight back as he is lifted up by his arms. The servant’s claws digging into his skin as he’s dragged forward and towards the portal. He doesn’t feel the pain anymore, doesn’t even really want to think anymore. Some part of him knows he should be panicking but he doesn’t have the strength to do it.

A single thought plays through his head though. Whispering that he should have just stayed in his self-imposed solitude. Where everything was nice and quiet. No war, no strange portals, no danger, no one there to let him down or hurt him again.

He can almost remember what his forest smelt like. Fresh earth mixed with honey and flowers.

There’s no trace of that here. Just the smell of a storm and that of the dead and rotting.

He should have died in his home. In peace. Not here. Not amongst people he never bothered to learn the names of. These fucking assholes had dragged him into this mess and now none of them could get him out of it.

None of them could get themselves out of it either.

He stumbles, falling forward out of his captor’s grasps. Their claws scraping against skin and scale as he lands on his knees. Right in front of the dwarven paladin that stares at him with lifeless eyes.

It shouldn't hurt like it does. He had tried so hard not to care for any of them and yet he can't help but remember just a few nights ago. When the warmth of the tavern had felt a little like home and the sound of his companion’s chatter was more comforting than grating.

He remembers the Paladin's laughter. Loud and boisterous as their eyes crinkled happily at something he had said. They had filled everything around them with a feeling of comradery he had never wanted to understand.

The rage slowly builds back into a fire as he sits helplessly. Wondering how he could have saved them. If he had cared would it have made a difference?

No. It wouldn't have.

And for some reason that makes his anger burn brighter. It clears his head, makes everything come back into focus. Until he swallows down the rage with an effort of learned patience.

His rage is the reason he’s in this state in the first place. Rage that had lead to sloppy fighting, sloppy attacks. It'll lead to defeat for someone like him who relies on his dexterity to protect him.

Patience. A woman's voice whispers in his head. The elvish accented common unmistakable after three years of hearing it.

The cleric is still alive then. Feigning death and waiting for a chance to bring back whoever she can. The last chance to set things right and stop Osmodious once and for all.

His captors drag him up again, harsh words spoken in a language he can’t understand. Pulling him closer to the center of the ritual and the portal. Osmodious stepping up from behind him, moving back to his position in the center. Wearing a smile that causes a sense of disgust to crawl against Abandon’s skin.

He thinks he’s won… not yet though. Not while I still breathe. He never wanted to be here but he may as well do his part. Maybe then he can finally go home. Finally have his peace back.

“Your blood is the final piece,” Osmodious pulls a knife from his cloak, turning it carefully in his hands, “A mix of fiend and draconic-”

“And human... maybe some elf.” Abandon coughs out a laugh, tasting the blood on his teeth. “Heh, never really bothered to ask.”

Osmodious glares at him for his interruption, hand tightening around the hilt of the dagger but Abandon is too tired to care about this man’s threats. It won’t matter in the end if all goes as planned.

And even if it doesn’t he’d never give this man the satisfaction of fear.

His tail twitches in anticipation, waiting without notice next to the ankles of the captor on his right. Just a bit longer. Hopefully at least.

“Could also have some dwarvish,” he tilts his head up looking towards the clouded night sky and the rain that’s now begun to fall. Harsh and cold; carrying with it a deathly chill. “Hard to really tell but it would explain the beard, right?” He smiles with his fangs bared in a challenge. Daring the man to make the first move.

Osmodious almost seems to growl inhumanely as he grips Abandon's chin, “Be silent or you’re tongue will be the first to go." His fingernails digging into Abandon’s skin causing him to wince in pain. 

He should shut up. Should stop talking. But he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut and apparently 15 years of talking only to himself has made that particular problem much worse. “Technically, the horn already went first.”

The knife is fast but not as fast as the elvish woman who stands from afar. Armor dented and coated in a fresh sheen of blood, red hair flowing upwards as she speaks a prayer. Giving her wishes life with a burst of golden energy that burns away the blood. Leaving her armor a pristine white as the energy sweeps forth from her and towards her allies.

It hits him just in time. Taking mere seconds for his wounds to stitch together and bones to crack back into place. Renewed energy coursing through him to give him enough of a chance to dodge the knife. He pushes back, tail wrapping around his right captor’s ankle and pulling the hooded figure off-balance enough to send them to the ground behind him.

The other tries to stop him but he easily breaks the grip, turning to land a punch into their gut before bringing their head down onto his knee. Knocked out cold before they could even comprehend what was happening.

Osmodious’s growl turns to screams of rage, face twisting into an ugly snarl as he lashes forward. "Don't just stand there! Kill them!"

Abandon doesn't bother to look behind at his companions. He can take a guess at who is standing and who is not. No more than three at most. Three left to face off against a dozen while he stands in the middle of this chaos with the supposed big bad himself.

We're all really going to die here.

Osmodious swipes forward again in his rage. Slashing haphazardly to make any kind of connection with the Tiefling. Only for Abandon to easily dodge and dance around him.

It's a familiar rhythm from years of training. Years of fighting. He can already tell that Osmodious doesn’t know this particular dance very well. Slashing wildly with no skill or plan. A wizard using a knife against a person who has been trained to fight. It took years of practice, years of patience.

A monk should know best when and where to strike. Words imprinted in his head from a master long dead.

There. A chance opening made as Osmodious flings his arm back with the knife. Not expecting a solid fist to land a blow to his ribs with such force. Followed by a twist of his hand, the knife knocked harshly out of his grasp and another blow cracks into his nose. He retreats backwards, hands flying to his bloodied nose as Abandon resets into a defensive stance.

Osmodious stares at him with wide eyes. Trying to understand what exactly is happening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “You’re supposed to be a sorcerer.”

“Never really liked magic.” Abandon shrugs like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. His gift had wanted to control him since the beginning. Wanted to grow more powerful. So he did the biggest fuck you to the universe he could think of. He ignored it.

It had been hard at first. His magic acting out in unpredictable ways. Ultimately he had to compromise, using it for small things while focusing his time and energy on learning to fight. An effort that’s so far proved best to his advantage.

Osmodious breathes deeply through his teeth, "You can't stop what's already begun." His hands shake as a dark energy builds around them like vipers ready to strike.

"Ha! Yes, I can. I do it all the time." His laughter almost feels like it's echoing. Reverberating against the rain that threatens to swallow them all into its cold embrace. It brings with it a creeping sense of dread.

Something feels wrong. And he’s not yet sure what.

He takes the offensive, dodging the energy that blasts towards him with a jump and a kick aimed at the man’s face. Too slow to hit, but fast enough for his tail to strike out and lash against Osmodious’s torso. Sending the man farther back towards the tear that crackles with unused energy.

It bathes Osmodious in red light; his form becoming something more inhuman by the second.

The dread is working its way through his system. Strangling the breath from his throat, arms shaking despite being steady only seconds ago. The screams behind him becoming impossible to ignore.

This has to end.

And only he can end it.

He stares at Osmodious and the tear behind him. The red shifting haphazardly, showing no destination in its depths. It won’t lead to where either of them want it to go.

That’s fine with him.

There are no names to remember here anyway.

He runs forward, ignoring the pain that shoots through him as Osmodious magic claws against any form of touch.

It can’t stop the inevitable though.

As the two figures tumble back into the tear.

Vanishing in a burst of light that is soon washed away.

[franklyshipping]

Oh So Tempting ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

THIS IS A SUPER SNAZZY ANON PROMPT WHICH I AM SUPER EXCITED TO WRITE BECAUSE I'M WRITING TWO EGOS THAT HAVEN'T INTERACTED IN MY FICS BEFORE! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @bingy-switch and @yandere-ipli-ler

Yandere was very proud of herself, and for good reason. She had just baked the most beautiful, warm, delicious double chocolate cookies with mini marshmallows melted on top of them. One for each and every ego, all well calculated and all perfect. Of course, Yan had extra ingredients in case of errors so she knew she could make more later if anyone wanted more, but for the moment her first batch looked to be immaculate. She had just taken the cookies off their cooling racks and put them on a decorative platter on the kitchen counter, before scooting briefly to go and put her apron in the laundry basket.

This, my dear friends, is where things get interesting.

Yandere had intended for these sweet treats to be a surprise, and so far her plan had been going smoothly....until the scent of cookies traversed down a few corridors to where Bing's sensors picked up the scent. Bing, of course, had no choice but to find the source of the sweet chocolatey scent since he may or may not have tuned his sensors to detect sweet consumables more acutely than other scents. So, when Bing ambled into the kitchen with an eager nose and eager eyes....his jaw dropped when he saw the platter of cookies. There were so many....they were still warm....and they were all unattended. Bing couldn't help himself....he had to try one.

It was the best cookie that Bing had ever had in his life. It melted in the mouth, Bing's sensors were almost overwhelmed by the delectable flavours, textures and warmth that came from the sumptuous snack. So....Bing had another....and another. His eyes were bright and he couldn't stop grinning as he reached for cookie number four....but that one he did NOT get to eat.

'.....and just what....do you think....you're doing?'

Bing gulped....he knew that cool voice. That cool, steady voice that was always a prelude to somebody getting absolutely fucked up. With cookie still in hand, Bing turned around to face her, to face Yandere. Her hands were at her sides and were twitching, her jaw was clenched, and her eyes darted over the scene before her frantically. She wasn't upset, she could make more cookies after all....but it was the principle. The lack of forethought, the assumption that the cookies that she worked hard on for EVERYONE were just free to be taken. The glow of Bing's amber eyes paled in comparison to the fire in Yandere's, and his voice was far shakier too.

'.....t-...t-t-....j-just.....I-I....t-testing....uhm....'

Bing gulped and hastily put down the cookie he was holding, shivering as Yandere got closer and closer to him. Her upper lip was quivering as she growled.

'Would it have pained you....to simply ASK before you took? These were meant to be for everybody, including you!'

Bing was quivering, hugging himself as he started to feel honestly really bad about what he'd done; he stammered more as he looked to Yan with true, strong remorse in his eyes.

'I-I'm s-so sorry Yan, I-I-I don't know wh-why I did it! P-Please c-can you forgive m-me?'

Yandere honestly had to fight the fond look that was threatening to develop, she wanted to remain intimidating whilst at the same time she didn't want Bing to feel TOO bad. So she settled for giving him the subtlest of smiles, just to let him know her anger wasn't in too much earnest. Then her authoritative mode reared its head as she stood before Bing.

'Perhaps I'll forgive you....but....I have conditions.'

Bing felt like a weight had left his shoulders at the sight of that smile, but then he quickly nodded and became as attentive as possible; he was ready to do absolutely anything and everything to make all of this right!

'Y-Yes o-of course, a-anything you want just name it!'

Bing had his head cocked to the side as he wrung his hands together, making him look almost too adorable to handle as his eagerness embodied him. Yandere hummed in thought as she looked Bing up and down, obviously he had to be punished....and Yan smirked and mused in her reply.

'Well, first off you will clean the kitchen work surfaces and the oven before I get to work replacing the cookies you ate. After those are done then you can clean up the kitchen once more, making sure that you do the dishes to perfection....'

Bing nodded enthusiastically as he listened to Yan, knowing he would be able to do all those things with ease without overexerting himself or making any errors. His enthusiasm spurred him to babble a little.

'I-I'll d-do all of that p-perfectly I swea-'

Bing gasped and halted his spiel when Yan held up one of her hands, as a signal for silence. The crimson haired ego stepped closer to the jittery android until they were very nearly nose to nose, so that her next purr had no risk of being unheard.

'I'm sure you will...but before all of that....as compensation for the extra hard work I am going to have to put in with the extra baking, I need to de-stress first. So....I am going to tickle your bare, hypersensitive feet for as long as I please....and you will NOT stop me. Is that understood?'

An amber blush appeared on Bing's cheeks almost immediately as he processed Yandere's words....his feet were so deathly ticklish, and his reactions were always so wild and embarrassing. A punishment indeed. Bing could already feel the flusteredness creeping up on him, especially with Yan smirking at him like he was her prey. However....he knew that he deserved this....so he nodded, meekly mumbling.

'....I-I....I understand....'

Yandere gasped and giggled rather sadistically, and wasted no time in beckoning Bing over to the couch in the adjacent living room. Before Bing knew it he was lying on his back with his socked feet in Yandere's lap....he couldn't escape what was coming.

'Good boy....'

Bing whimpered at Yandere's croon, watching with wide orange eyes as he was stripped of his socks; he let out a breathy, surprised gasp when a well-manicured nail dragged up one of his soles.

'A-Ahah!'

Yandere nibbled her bottom lip with another sadistic giggle, happily now trapping Bing's ankles between her legs as her sadistic nails raked up and down Bing's poor, defenceless, ticklish soles. Yandere was starting to feel glad at Bing's actions.

'Oh this will de-stress me so perfectly....'

Yandere sighed with a contented grin as she watched Bing squeal, jump, and descend into crackly, hysterical giggles at the tickle treatment; the amber glow on his cheeks was also getting darker and darker by the second.

'AHAHAHA NOHO-OHMYHECK YOHOUR NAHAILS!'

Bing's eyes were as wide as they could go in shock from how tickly it all was; Yandere merely giggled once more.

'I know, aren't they pretty? So sharp and perfect for tickling naughty thieves like you!'

Yandere cooed, adoring how Bing couldn't hold back his ticklish squeals and sweet, adorable little babbles.

'IHIHIHI'M SAHAHARRY YAHAN!'

Yandere chuckled, as sweet as Bing's desperate apology was, it was WAY too soon to stop. She elected to spontaneously scratch nice and hard at the android's heels, her crimson lips spreading into a sneer as she locked eyes with him.

'Oh you certainly will be when I'm through with you.'

Bing let out a wondrous snort before hurrying to hide his face in his hands out of embarrassment, his wild, rampant giggling never stopping for a moment. Also, his cheeks were transitioning from amber to a rather lovely orange as he cried desperately.

'DOHOHON'TTEHEASEME!'

Yan raised an amused eyebrow at seeing Bing hide away so cutely, whilst also noticing him scrunch up his feet as tight as he could. She narrowed her eyes at the sensitive feet before her, before ruthlessly scratching deep into those ticklish wrinkles.

'....I hope you weren't trying to order me about Bingy....you wouldn't want me to prolong this to teach you a lesson, would you Bingy?'

Yandere's tone of voice during this particular reply was a little different....it was higher pitched and sharp with an underlying air of danger to it. That tone and the nickname combined told Bing that he had to be extremely careful, because he was on thin ice with his sadistic tickler. Amidst his cackles though, he thankfully managed to remember his manners.

'NONONOHOHO IHIHI WAHASN'T IHI WOHOULD NEVEHER!!'

Despite the tickling making him want to fight back and cry out censored language, he knew that politeness would be the best route in terms of earning mercy. Yandere smirked at Bing, adoring how desperate he was to stay on his good side. Her nails dug evilly into Bing's wrinkled soles as she purred with dangerous narrowed eyes.

'Of course you wouldn't....because you're a good boy, aren't you? You're a good boy who does what he's told, aren't you?'

Bing nodded frantically, whimpering into a couch pillow he held at his chest as his cackles got higher and higher pitched the longer the tickling went on for.

'YEHEHEHES AHAHA IHI'LL DOHO WHAHATEVER YOHOU SAHAY!!'

....Yandere was going to make Bing regret saying that. She giggled as ideas swarmed through her excited mind, whilst stopping the onslaught so that Bing could recover a little. Yandere watched Bing cutely gasp and blink frantically, before musing.

'Will you indeed....will you really?'

Bing looked to Yandere, and gulped when he saw the sadistic smile on her face. Nevertheless, he nodded, but was tensed with flustered embarrassment.

'I-Ihi prohomise....'

Yandere's sadistic smile now spread into a frankly feral smirk.

'Well in that case....uncurl and spread your toes....and keep them that way until I tell you otherwise....'

Yandere winked and giggled as she saw Bing's face practically glow orange as his eyes widened at hearing what she was asking of him. Bing had to take a few breaths to compose himself as his toes twitched....but he soon complied. Internally, he was actually rather excited to undertake the challenge. Thus, Bing nervously smiled as he spread his toes, exposing the undersides and his toes stems perfectly. This allowed Yandere to take a single manicured nail and start tracing under his toes.

'You must be such a strong boy....I know that this will tickle so bad for you. The undersides of your toes are always hidden usually, always safe....but not anymore....'

Yandere crooned with a joyful smile as she watched Bing start to whimper, biting his lip to repress desperate gasps as he shuddered with the effort to keep his toes uncurled. Yandere was right, it did tickle so....so bad. Just that simple tickly tracing was enough to have Bing almost breaking.

'P-Pleeeheheee-a-ahaha....n-nohoho....'

Yandere chuckled as Bing weakly giggled, blinking away saline fluid from his eyes as he whined too. Yandere simply traced and stroked the undersides of Bing's toes stems with her nails....nice and carefully....nice and slowly. There was no little hidden spot un-teased.

'Poor Bingy baby....so ticklish and exposed and desperate....I bet you want mercy huh?'

Bing nodded frantically, giggling and twitching and blushing hard as Yandere's feigned sympathy flustered him even more.

'Y-Yahahan....p-p-pleheheassssee....Ihican'ttahakeit.....'

Bing's voice was so pleading that it made Yandere's heart melt. Seeing him so blushy and desperate and wide eyed with flustered innocence just made Yandere want to hold him close and adopt him so she could protect him for ever and ever. However....the sadistic part of Yandere still had a little thing she wanted to do.

'Well in that case....I may have mercy. But....only if you can convince me how sorry you are for your actions.'

As Yandere continued her tracing, Bing's vocals almost broke the sound barrier with how fast his desperate, squeaky babbles came out of his mouth.

'I-Ihihi'm s-soho sohohorry, I-I shohould have thohought! I-I knohow you w-w-wohorked hahard ahand I'm s-soho sahahaharry!'

Yandere hummed, but smiled because honestly she had not expecting an apology so sweet and genuine from the adorable android. Of course, Yandere immediately had mercy and released Bing's feet, which Bing didn't hesitate to scrunch tight with a gasp.

'I forgive you my little orange blossom.'

Bing whined into a cushion, but smile and mewled when Yandere pulled him into a tight cuddle; he was also happy at that particular nickname but you didn't hear that from me. Yandere rubbed the android's back, giggling fondly at how he snuggled so instinctively.

'....y-you're so good at tickling a-and baking.....'

Yandere grinned at the androids little mumble, and purred smugly.

'I know.'

Yandere giggled as Bing snorted and giggled, before Yandere proceeded to cup Bing's cheeks and pinch them as she continued.

'Well since you ate those cookies I might as well ask you for feedback.'

Bing squeaked and batted at Yandere's hands, before replying with a sweet smile.

'They were awesome, y-you should be super proud.'

Bing let out a quiet, content sigh when he saw Yandere smile and bow her head bashfully at the compliment, and Bing made sure to give her many more when they went to bake more cookies together. They ended up baking around three more batches but c'mon let's be real, there's never anything bad about an abundance of cookies.

HOPE YOU LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[ohmygoditsrowaelin]

Rowaelin - Pregnancy (3/3) - Symptoms and Birth

Just as a warning the final part of this headcanon series does involve blood/bodily fluids so if that is a trigger or are triggered by things in a medical sense please take caution when reading this instalment. OH!!! Also shit tone of angst guys.

As mentioned in previous instalment, Aelin doesn’t begin to show until around the second trimester. She was thankful for this as this gave her more time to announce it to those closest to her. Unfortunately her precious gowns no longer fit. The royals seamstress took it upon herself and her apprentices to make her maternity gowns that resembled her fashion style.

She did suffer from morning sickness severely in the first couple of months, which was easily disguised as her eating to much food such as cake or chocolates.

Her cravings were nothing extreme like the kitchens had prepared for, all that changed was that she liked her meat a bit more rare and had an increased want for cake. Rowan was prepared to travel for days to get whatever she wanted, only wanting her and the child to be happy.

Yrene took it upon herself to stay close to Terrasen, going as far as to make Chaol purchase an estate in Orynth. The woman wanting help Aelin through the process of childbirth as much as possible.

Yrene gave creams and ointments to ease her morning sickness, cramps and lesson the pain when the child decided to kick.

Midway through the pregnancy Aelin found herself forgetting things more often. One time completely forgetting that she had a council meeting or that she was scheduled to make an appearance at the Royal Terrasen Theatre. So Rowan with the help of Lysandra, Elide and Yrene took it upon themselves to always remind her of tasks and duties of the day, much to her annoyance.

I’d also like to include that Aelin would be 100000% hornier, like she just had to look at Rowan and BOOM! She would climb him like a monkey on a tree, not that he really minded. It turned out that some of their best experiences in the bedroom occurred when she was with child.

Rowan also adapted to having a shorter sleep schedule, having to help his mate to the bathroom multiple times during the night. Brushing off Aelin’s embarrassed apologies and her complaints that she could do it herself.

The lords tried to discuss succession with the couple, trying to enforce that if the child happened to be a girl and then they have a boy later. The boy would be King, the daughter being passed over. 

It turned out that Rowan was the one who had to show restraint, almost going feral and killing the lords at the suggestion that any child of his would be refused their birthright. Aelin returned his sentiment, but her rage was wielded like steel. Swift and clean, she took it upon herself to remind the men that she in the end would have the final say.

They both walked away from that meeting with a burning pit of hatred for the lords.

So it draws closer to the predicted date of the child’s birth, and Aelin starts to feel different. Not about being a mother, she worked past those issues very easy on. No, she felt like something was wrong.

She would say nothing, having worried to much in the past.

But her pains grew more potent, at first she thought it could have been contractions, but from what she had been told these pains weren’t localised in one area.

She steadily grew weaker, not eating as much and what she did manage to eat eventually came back up. When asked about the change she brushed it off the symptoms she had experienced throughout her pregnancy.

The one person who could tell she was lying is Rowan, but he was away with Fenrys and Lorcan, visiting some of the border villages of Terrasen.

Aedion and Lysandra had decided to stay in the palace just in case something arose.

One night, just after twilight, Aelin awoke to a pain unlike any she had previously experienced. Removing the covers so that she could relieve herself she was confronted with the sight of blood. It covered her legs and the sheets.

Aelin would begin to hyperventilate, shock taking over and her ability to call for help would be stunted. Until the pain she was already experiencing increased yet again.

Her screams would echo through the halls of the palace, the first to reach her room would be Aedion and Lysandra. His blade drawn and her ready to shift at a moments notice.

The sight they were confronted with was one that would haunt their dreams for years to come.

Aelin arched in bed, covered in her own blood, screaming as she clawed at her stomach. 

Lysandra’s maternal instincts surfaced, her feet carrying her towards her best friend. 

Aedion began to move forward also.

“No, get Yrene, something is wrong with the baby. She may be the only one to save them both.” She instructed, not looking back to make sure he had understood.

Aedion rushed past guards and servants. Ignoring the questions of lords and dignitaries. He was thankful to the gods that Yrene and Chaol had decided to stay the night.

He practically rips the door of its hinges, sending Chaol for his sword, prepared to defend his pregnant wife and child. But when he sees Aedion’s face, terror and pain consuming his features. 

Yrene had sat up when Chaol had reached for his sword that was always beside their bed. She only had to take one look at the general to know something was wrong with Aelin. 

“Chaol, get my satchel, the one by the dresser. Aedion, I’m going to need your help getting to her.” Both men nodded, Choal grabbing his cane, Aedion carrying Yrene in his arms.

They reached Aelin as a pageboy was rushing out, Lysandra was beside Aelin, gripping her hand and whispering encouragement.

Yrene waddled over to Aelin, ripping away the sheet, going pale at what she saw. She motioned for her husband to hand over the supplies. 

He’d shuffle over, trying not to make eye contact with Aelin, knowing if he did he might break, knowing how much this baby meant to her and...Rowan

He returned to his place at the wall near the door beside Aedion, the two men unable to help in the situation. Both feeling like they were both failing the woman in the bed.

“Where’s Rowan?” Aelin would moan, having descended into delirium due to the pain. Everyone would make eye contact, the tension in the room intensifying tenfold.

“I’ve sent word, he’ll be back any moment now.” Lysandra would explain, wiping the sweat from Aelin’s brow.

“I-I don’t think I’ll b-be-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Aedion growled, not letting her or anyone else in the room entertain the prospect of Aelin not being here when he returned.

Yrene swore after finishing examining her, her hands covered in blood. Her hands glowing softly, as she tried to use her gifts to heal the damage done in her womb.

Rowan that night had nightmares like he hadn’t experienced since before the war ended, all revolving around Aelin and their future family.

Rowan wakes up in the morning being shaken relentlessly by Lorcan, as he begins to tell the fae to piss off he notices the worry in his eyes, then sees the letter in his hand with the royal seal.

He doesn't wait to hear what Lorcan has to say before shifting into his falcon. Flying as fast as he can back to his mate, feeling the pain and terror through the bond.

He arrives at the palace via the balcony of their chambers. He’s immediately confronted by the sight of Aelin. She’s deathly pale, covered in sweat, the bottom half of her body covered in blood. He could see Lysandra holding her hand, Yrene furiously trying anything to heal her. The royal doctor beside her, offering his services when Yrene would become unsure of what to do. Choal and Aedion remained by the wall, the two first noticing his presence.

Lysandra looks over her shoulder, seeing him, she’d stand so that he could take over.

As he reached her side he’d notice how quiet she was, the occasional moan would fall from her lips, but other than that she remained silent.

Yrene and the doctor began whispering hurriedly, but due to his worry Rowan didn’t make out anything they said. But he could see dread written on both of their faces.

“What? What are the two of you saying?”

“We need to deliver, the placenta, it’s torn from womb causing her to bleed out and cut off circulation to the child.”

“Why haven't you delivered yet then?” He’d ask through gritted teeth, anger evident through his words, he couldn't imagine what could cause them to not deliver.

“I can’t promise she or the baby will survive. The baby will be born before it should, and there is a high chance that tear lead to her to bleed internally. We haven’t done anything in hopes that my gifts could reverse the damage, but it’s to far gone.”

Rowan paled the healer’s words sinking in.

He turned back to his wife, who was barely conscious. He leaned down and nuzzled the crook of her neck. 

“Save the child.” Her voice, even in that moment sounded like a symphony, instructed the healer.

“Aelin, you might not make it if she does. I can’t lose you, either of you.” 

Aelin remained silent through that and many more pleas from her mate, ignoring his wishes. Knowing that she'd never forgive herself if she let the child perish just so that she could survive.

She lifted her head to indicate to Yrene her wish once again. They held eye contact, both knowing what a mother would do for their child. 

Yrene then asked the doctor for a scalpel.

Rowan’s eyes would fill with fury, Lysandra would have to restrain him. Chaol stepping forward his face hardening. He didn't care what was happening, he wouldn't let the fae intimidate his wife. Aedion would pull him back, the pair had to remain otherwise the room would descend into chaos.

As Yrene would begin working to save the child Aelin would scream again, her hand reaching out in search for Rowan.

He’d immediately drop resisting Lysandra, his instincts making him be their for his mate. He held her hand tightly, pressing kisses to it while his other hand stroked her forehead. He tried to comfort her as best he could, but couldn’t help but flinch every time she cried out. After a minute he was crying with her.

Then there was a moment of quiet.

A baby’s cry filled the room, Rowan looked at their child in awe as Yrene cleaned the child as best she could.

“It’s a girl.” Yrene announced with a sad smile, handing the newborn over to her father.

Rowan cradled the child in his arms, almost forgetting everything and everyone in the room. His entire being was focused on the daughter he and Aelin had made together. She was so small, she had almost no hair, but he could tell it would be the same shade as her mother. Her eyes were closed, as they would remain for a week or two but he silently hoped they would also be her mother’s.

Turning to Aelin, he sat beside her and leaned down. Showing her their beautiful child.

Aelin cooed at the little one, holding out her pinky for her to latch onto.

“What shall we name her Fireheart?”

“Lyria.” The room stilled, all except the doctor knew that was the name of  his first wife and who he was lead to believe was his mate.

“Aelin I-”

“She brought great joy and love into your life. I’m sad I never got to know her, but I can only hope that our Lyria will grow up to be just as wonderful as her namesake.” Aelin whispered hoarsely, her eyes closed. Rowan blinked away tears, he knew Lyria, the one he married wasn’t his mate. But she still held an important part of his heart, and Aelin wanting to honour her memory...it made him love her more than he thought possible.

“Oh, Oh my!” Yrene gasped, Rowan’s head looked up, afraid of what she might say.

Yrene did not elaborate on what caused her outburst, but it must have caused the following groans and almost screams.

Then another wail filled the room, silencing the room once again as the two cries joined together.

“It’s a boy! Twins, you have twins!” Yrene announced joyfuly, the room filling with cheers. The lords rushing to make the announcement to Terrasen and the surrounding kingdoms.

Rowan handed Lyria to Lysandra who was practically purring at the sight of her goddaughter. Taking his son into his arms, shock, joy and wonder filling his soul. He showed him to Aelin like he did with Lyria, but this time Aelin remained silent.

At first he’d pay no attention to it, believing that she was just shocked as he was. But he turned to ask her what they should name her when he noticed she had gone still and her chest had stilled.

“Fireheart? Aelin-Aelin? Darling wake up, do not leave me now after everything we’ve survived don’t leave me now!” He begged, their son’s cries mixing with his own.

Yrene’s face would harden, telling Aedion and Chaol to get Rowan out of the room so she could save the Queen.

Rowan waits outside the room, his son still in his arms, but had fallen asleep shortly after exiting. He tries to refrain from crying but can’t. Tears slowly trail down his face as he tries to comprehend raising his children without his Fireheart. 

He can hear Yrene shouting at the doctor and then there's silence, it feels like hours before the door opens. The royal doctor exiting without saying a word, then Yrene opens the door wider. She’s covered in sweat blood and birth fluid, but she has a smile on her face.

That smile sends relief through him, almost making his knees weak knowing that Aelin will be okay. 

“She’ll be okay. She won’t be able to leave her bed for a month at least but she will be okay.” She explains to everyone, but her eyes never leave his. 

They all began to renter the room but Yrene stopped them with a hand. She only let through Rowan and Aedion who was now hold Lyria who was gurgling happily to herself.

Rowan almost sprinted to Aelin’s bedside, kneeling beside her, needing to see any evidence that she was alright. And he let out a breath of relief when she opened her eyes, those eyes he loved so dearly.

“Wha-what happened?”

“Nothing that can’t wait. Would you like to meet our son?”

Aelin almost sat up straight at those words, she looked over to Aedion to confirm that she did in fact have two children. 

They spent an hour together, the three adults and two newborns just learning what they looked like, acted and mannerisms. That is until Aedion perked up.

“What are you going to name him?” 

The couple shared a look before going at their son then Aedion.

“Gavriel.”

Aedion nods quickly looking back down at Lyria quietly, but both Aelin and Rowan can see the tears in Aedion’s eyes.

They both at that moment can’t wait to see what life had in store for them next.

tags: @zarixxx

If you’d like to see more about how things continue from the end please leave a request. Well that brings an end to the pregnancy au! series, and I can confirm that the next thing I write that will be posted will be for...(DRUM ROLL) ELORCAN!!!

El, xoxo

[ombreecha]

The Uchiha’s Wife

FF.NET Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: M Summary: She was an otherworldly being of healing. An absolute nymph of spring. He was an otherworldly being of destruction. An absolute god of war. In a world where war makes him death, and chaos she will be the life, and love his people will talk of for years to come. AU x Warring States Period.

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Chapter 7 The Divine

There is a scream and a cry of anguish that echos within his home that makes all not present go deathly quiet. Deep rich red gaze upon the arm he has just snapped in his anger at the words that he has just heard. This male had thought it was his place to speak of such things to his wife, and this male thought it would be wise to speak of matters that held no concern of his. His roughen fingers tighten around the windpipe threatening to snap it like a twig. Pants of sharp breathes of pain are what flow from the man within his grasp pinned to his out of bloom cherry tree.

“Sasuke, listen—” he’s practically begging with what little air he’s been granted.

He slams the loud mouth with no remorse against its bark splattering it with blood that has come forth from the bone he had snapped, and the crack of this males head against the bark in his lividity. There was no quelling this with simple begging. He had warned him already—he would see now his warning was not for show.

There is the lightest of steps coming from down the hall, and he does not care to take notice of them making their way to where he is currently giving way to punishment. He does not care who ente—

“Sasuke-kun?”

His breath is caught in his throat as all who are present for the discipline look to follow the voice who dares to call out to him. Wide doe-eyes and glowing viridian are locked upon the scene before her. He barely notes the Uchiha beside her, who can only show forth his own shock. She is rushing to him and he has no clue how she has gotten to him so fast wrapping her hand around his that threatens to snap the loud mouth’s throat.

“Sasuke-kun, stop! Let him go!” she is desperate in her pleas to release the man who had dared to spill Madara’s intentions, “Please, Sasuke-kun.”

His fingers can only obey her at the way she pleaded, and it’s with that, that Suigetsu is released from his hold and dropped to the ground letting out another cry. She is quick to dirty her knees and tend to the injuries he’s inflicted. He barely registers the Uchiha who had accompanied her on her travels, and brought her back to his home.

“Sasuke-san, what happened?” there is no stopping the heart stopping deep rich red that find their way to the fellow Uchiha. His lividity has not been quelled—no it’s only been shaken by her presence. He does not need to see it to believe that she had, too, been shaken by the politics at play. He does not need to see it to believe her lip quivered or that the shock danced across those viridian when this male had slipped and spoken of such. It would have harmed her—she had been harmed enough.

“Shisui-san—no—anyone at all, please grab a maid I need more medical supplies.”

There are footsteps, and with every breath that she’s taking, and with every command she is giving he feels her shaking his lividity even more. Every press of those fingers, and every glow that comes from them in her attempt to set the bone back within the skin only seeks to send tremors throughout his being. It is her being that seeks to quell the anger, hot and pulsing throughout his heart. It’s whispering for calm and its whispering to find solace with her within arms reach.

It’s not until it’s late into the night after she has finished mending, and healing that she is seeing Shisui out the door—he should be beside her doing the same. He’s finally reined in the absolute raw anger that had poured from him. It had been threatening to spill since the words had left Madara’s mouth and it had only taken word that she had been told to make them spill over into the scene this afternoon. Even within its now controlled state he could feel it bubble within the bottom of his stomach fiery and ready to be released once more at a moment’s notice.

Suigetsu has been resigned to a guest room. There is exhaustion around her eyes. There is a sluggishness to her movements. There is the smallest yawn that falls from her as she has made her way back to him and the others with tea. She sits beside him with only the exhaustion hesitating her movements. She is performing her role of wife.

It’s as if she was not told.

The silence is only interrupted by the sound of her voice. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. Then he sees those ever glowing viridian, and the warmest of smiles on her face looking at him.

He would say nothing. There was nothing to say. He was undeniably the cruelest of men to treat this woman in such a way.

“Sasuke-san, I think it would be wise to postpone this until Suigetsu is well enough to participate.” he is hesitant in his suggestion.

Sasuke gives forth a nod in agreement, “Juugo. Karin. I will send word.”

The rose-colored nymph is preparing to rise, and he cannot explain why he has stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. There is a look between them, and the smallest of exhales that comes from her mouth before giving forth the smile that has displayed itself since her return. It’s painstakingly exhausted and yet she lets it decorate her face with warmth. It is not the look she should have painted upon her face. It is not the look she should give in his direction. None of this is what she should give to him.

Giving his farewells are quick, and as he finds her nestled into the futon already having not waited for him It’s all the more meticulous how much fatigue has washed over her. There are whispers within him that say it’s his fault—she would have been tired from travel but not exhausted if she had not healed the broken bone of the pale leaden haired male he had caused. Those whispers seek to fester that anger so hot and so destructive—all It would take is a moment’s notice to have it once more erupt throughout his being.

“Come to bed, Sasuke-kun, you must be tired.” her voice is weak and it makes his fists curl as his chest begins to burn.

There is the urge to scream at her—he won’t though. He’s done enough of that today, and it’s in attempt to maintain control that he changes for bed and climbs in beside her—this time refusing to face anywhere but her. Her back is turned to him and he wonders if this is punishment for forgetting their anniversary, or even more rightfully so his display earlier—no it’s punishment at the idea he might bed someone without her title of wife. He knows a fire burns as violent within this woman as it does within himself. He would not believe anything other. He would not dare to let himself fall within the belief that she is this submissive.

Sitting up roughen fingers reach out to her at that thought gripping her shoulder once more tonight to force her to turn to him. There is surprise at his unexpected action, and ebony can’t help but search for some of the disdain in her eyes that had not been present in months. He deserves her anger, he deserves to have her throw a tantrum, and he deserves to have her curse him—he deserves it all. 

Sasuke reminds himself that he had wished to give more to this marriage. He could not look upon the spring wife that had fallen out of his grasp again.

Would she fall out of his grasp once more with those fingers desperately tangled into her hair and tears spilling forth in their anguish?

In her time away everything brought thought of her with it. It plagued him with thoughts of rose-colored strands, pale purple seals, glowing viridian ocular windows, and milky unblemished skin. This woman had, with no doubt in his mind, bewitched him—she had committed the act well before now.

Emotions decorate her easily as they always have from surprise, to uncertainty, to worry—she’s worrying when she should be furious. She should be screaming and she should be spilling venom from her lips. She should be demanding and she should be cruel.

“Sasuke-kun, what’s wrong? Do you need chamomile tea?” her voice is laced in such unwarranted concern for his behalf.

Silence is all he provides as an answer. It’s all he’s ever provided her. Those soft digits are rising, and he feels the smallest of longing in hope that she’ll run them through his hair as she always has to give him comfort—god help him—he is selfish. He is so unforgivably selfish.

The spring nymph does exactly what he longs for without being told. There is the briefest of touches to his cheek before running her digits through his hair giving forth comfort and solace. He longs for her to do so many cruel things in return for his proposed adultery, and yet he also needs her to comfort his desire to erupt. He needs her to quell this feeling so hot and hostile. He needs to feel as though she understands his position and what has been asked of him even if he, too, does no understand it.

There is the pull of her shoulder to make her lay towards him as he finally lays his head down. Roughen fingers finally leave her form getting what he had not known he had sought from her—he wants that comfort she provides so easily. His eyes watch the stretch of her features as she lets out another yawn for the night settling to lay on her side. Those fingers of hers continue to give forth their soothing rubs to his scalp making him begin to give way to the lull that is her breathing, and the comfort her fingers provide.

She is comforting his selfishness and she is providing the quell of his lividity that lingers deep and scorching within his body. She is settling it and putting it to rest.

She is sending the anger so deep seeded from his being.

Sakura will not question him.

That was the promise she had made to herself back in the camp. There was no use in doing so, and in the same notion that is not what she wanted. She did not want him to reconfirm what would essentially be politically planned unfaithfulness. He had never guaranteed his faithfulness to start, and even if he had she would not make him do so. This man needed an anchor to this world, and maybe the Uchiha woman selected would be able to provide that with children—he could look proudly upon with their ebony locks, and ebony eyes.

It’s in this that she has continued to provide a smile at every chance, and every moment provided since her return home. There was no explanation provided for his assault upon the pale leaden haired man, and just like with the probably adultery that would occur in their marriage she would not question that either.

The whispers that lingered through the air, while heavy upon her shoulder, are ignored. This would not stop her from continuing down the path laid before her. It’s with this that she makes her way to the training grounds in hopes to provide him with lunch.

There is no denying the seed of bitterness that has taken root within her. It seeks to blossom within her resolve something so unkind and so desperate. She would not water it. She would not let it shake her being out within the open. She would cut it down even as it continued to mock, and tease her for not being what he needs. She would loathe herself for such weakness.

Civilians, children, and clansmen that she passes do so with smiles decorating their faces, and she can only return them back maintaining the status quo. Her mother had spoken of her stubbornness and her mother had not been wrong. She was stubborn in all that she did. When she had set her mind to something she would not rest until it had been obtained. She would find him an anchor to this world—even if it was not her. She would not let the flower of selfishness keep her from pushing through her. She would not let herself stray and she would not let it coax her into the world of rancorous territory.

The petulant vines could constrict her heart, and take the air from her lungs, but it would not dare flow from her being in his presence.

It’s as she comes upon him in the heat of training that she feels pride swell in her heart. He is unbelievable in all that he does. There is a certain grace to his movements—hadn’t they always been—and accuracy that was far beyond his years. He is the Guan Yu of his time—a god of war. The flames that are produced in his inhalation are grand, and burn bright. He is faster than her eyes can keep up with—gone one moment, and reappearing the next so much like their life together.

Yes, that’s one of the many reasons she would not trouble him with her selfishness.

The smile that plays across her lips is genuine. He has pinned his opponent—hadn’t Sasuke refereed to him as Juugo?

“Sasuke-kun!” her voice is light in her call to him grabbing his attention.

Those eyes deep in rich red are what fall upon her as he maintains his pin, and again there is no fear that finds it’s way through her being. He hasn’t expected her and he seems almost unsure, almost uncertain in her presence at the training ground, but he relaxes in his stiffness and finally relieves the male of fiery orange hued locks from his defeat.

Soft steps is what she takes as she holds up the boxed lunch she has prepared him. He is gazing onto it with lips pressed firmly before taking them to her viridian. It’s in the blink of an eye and those deep rich reds are no longer what gazes upon her are instead that of ebony.

He says nothing as he takes it from her hands. She has expected the wordless appreciation. It’s enough that he appreciates it, and she even still would not have asked for the appreciation. There is a tension between them she cannot place, or find cause for, but she still smiles in earnest. This is what she could and would continue to give.

“Magu.”

The name catches her off guard taking in the almost burnt orange hues that look to her. Her husband has been caught off guard just as she has. She knows of the tales that come with that name. They were widely taught, and known throughout her culture. There is wonder within her at someone speaking of one of her many gods.

“You remind me of the tales that speak of Magu.” his voice is as deep, and almost gentle as she remembers it.

“Ah, but I am not an elixir of life, a sovereign, or the spring we feel within the months early in the year.” she can only produce the softest of laughs at his words before reciting that in which she was told often as a child, “Her hair was done up, and several loose strands hung down to her waist. Her gown had a pattern of colors, but it was not woven; it shimmered, dazzling the eyes, and it was not of this world.”

Juugo only shakes his head, “Forgive me, Sakura-sama—I did not mean to offend.”

It’s his earnestness that forces her fingers to her lips to stop the laughs that wished to find release, “You have not offended. It is a compliment if anything.” she assures him with a glowing smile.

The clinic is what she preoccupies her time with after dismissing herself from her husbands eyes. There are many to help, and many to save today. The word of a harsh defeat is carried within those that have come for first aid. These men, and children strive to do all that they could, and it had seemed to slip through the fingers.

She could not provide for them what they truly needed. Mending the flesh, and healing the sore was easy, but gluing the mind back together after having their pride torn asunder was another thing entirely. The mental strain, the eye strain, the aches, and pains in which these people felt were all too often, and all too great, and yet there would be no salvation as war continued through out their lands.

Somber notions and mindset is what comes over her in the realization that maybe what she provided was not enough. Seeking to provide what was far less in supply was the role she had taken with great care. It was what had pushed her to succeed in healing, and yet these people needed more. These children of war were to be the next generation, and with them they carried scars unseen from the eyes.

It’s within her return though that she finds him reading at the chabudai. The maids have taken his plate and cleaned for her in her time away as she lost herself in the hours at the clinic. Those ebony she had longed to see when away have moved to look her over. He has not shifted nor turned his head to her, and it’s as she makes her way to the table that she feels those ebony following her.

Stillness has come over her realizing he is gauging her, studying her, digesting her presence. Sakura can only wonder what he is looking for, and what he is hoping to find as he gazes over his book in such lackadaisical manner—those roughened fingers cup his face as he leans upon the chabudai. It’s not until the maid has brought their tea for the night, and left them alone that he finally places the book down leaving it upon where he stopped. The curling of fingers upon it’s worn spine showcase what she can only imagine is hesitation.

There is a shift of his eyes, “Who is Magu?”

Thick lashes flutter, and questions of if she heard him correctly come, but it provokes a curiosity within her. She answers with such curiosity leading her, “She was an immortal and divine being who was seen as a guardian of vitality. Her youth, and beauty were thought of as symbols of health, and healing in the universe in which she protects.”

There is no response to her explanation at first which makes her feel the need to give more information in nervousness. Viridian are cast onto the chabudai as she rambles, “—It was thought that she would cast aside the winter in favor of flora and fauna.”

She hears the subtle hum of his voice as he now chooses to answer. Viridian are pulled by the sound making her gaze in wonder, “Ah, so you are like this Magu.”

His voice says it so straight forward as if there is no debate, and no room for question. Her cheeks feel warmth spread throughout them and she can only guess that they have taken on a hue similar to the pale strands that spill from her head. The somberness she had returned home with is washed away by this one statement. The constant constriction the petulant vines have caused her heart dare to weaken. She knows not to be fooled into believing it to be affection—yet she cannot help but entertain it, maybe even wish it as such.

Her mouth cannot contain a genuine smile for the second time today. It illuminates her features spreading to her viridian, and it brings with it a hand clasped upon her chest as if to keep some of the enchantment she feels at bay.

The cool air that comes within the change of season is what fills his days, and subdues the warmth that summer brought. Those delicate fingers of hers are assisting him with his wrappings, and she utters no word as the smile he had determined weeks ago to be a mask paints across her face. There are occasional flutters of pale rose-colored lashes blackened with makeup stealing glances upon his face as she performs this repetitious task.

Her locks are tied in loose condition behind her, and her wear for the day is a simple cheongsam of deep dark blues. The roughened tips of his fingers are treated with care as she holds them lacing the wrap between his fingers. The genuine smiles she would provide throughout the days since her return are there, but it is in these moments that he knows she is doing her best to maintain herself as if hiding from him all that she feels.

She did not question him as he thought she would. The act of playing the naive seemed to be the spring nymph’s goal, and while at first he had been fooled with her act it was not long into her display that he knew it to be a lie. How this woman could not question him of the proposed adultery he was meant to commit he did not understand. At first it had made him choleric, but as with everything that happened in their marriage he would do nothing to stop her performance.

Inhalation.

It’s that simple task that allows him to breathing in her floral scent that lingers with the familiar earthy fragrance of fall. Autopilot keeps him disengaged as he feels the hours, minutes, and seconds tick away from the time she has left their home. His company—Juugo, Karin, and Suigetsu are barely noticed, and barely maintains his attention. Plans placed in the open. Agreements made.

This woman has completely captured him within that world of hers once more, and he finds himself just as before unable to break her hold on his attention. He can hardly react to the flirtation that comes from Karin outside of placing a hand to keep the distance between them. Comparing her to his spring nymph of a wife is all that he can do when his eyes land upon the woman—her locks are not of pale rose-colored strands but instead that of vibrant scarlet.

The otherworldly woman was haunting his home, and all that he sees. She had done so before, and even now when she is within his grasp she continues to do so. He is unable to realize when maids have come to serve them, and when they discuss the finer details that echo throughout the room. Her scent clung to the walls of his home, and the wraps she had put such care into placing upon his being. It’s intoxicating and unable to be dispelled.

Is this what had possessed that Senju?

Was that man entangled in the world that she unknowingly provided? Had he attempted to escape her only to find himself wrapped within and locked by viridian eyes? Did her scent hang in the air he frequented? Is this what possessed him to feel so robbed? What spell did she cast upon men of war? Was this genjutsu—of course, it wasn’t.

This loss of reality served to only provide sudden vexation. The mood swings that come through the stand still he feels encased within is heavy upon his lungs. It’s as the sun begins its descend that he is walking his comrades to the village gates. The decision to execute their mission after Shubun No Hi finalized—when was the last time he had visited his mother and father’s graves to give proper prayer?

Scowling had always been a common expression of his and he feels it setting deeper than normal as his fingers tug upon his fringe. His company stops at his halt not far from the gates. Their ocular windows fall upon him in ambiguity, and yet he cannot find himself among them. He is trapped with no lock and no key—no way out of this encasing.

“Sasuke-san?” Juugo’s voice is gentle as if trying to bring him to the present.

A response is all he needs to make to bring him to that present state and yet he cannot find one to give. It makes him pull just a bit more upon his fringe in contemplation at what he was becoming, and what she was turning him into. He knows that she is the cause of this, and the vexation that comes is one that begs for release upon the ethereal woman.

There is the softest of laughs, and the noises of children. There is him finally taking his ebony from the ground before him to the sounds, and then there she is with her viridian focused upon the village children. The children have clung to her with the woven basket nestled upon her arm, and he feels time speed up as if to crash upon him and knock the wind from his lungs. Ebony ocular windows have widened and locked in mystification at seeing her enter their village. He knows his mouth has opened and that his pull upon his hair has slackened. There is the mental note to wash the look of bewilderment from his features—he cannot find the power to do it.

Sasuke looks and sees her eyes. They glow.

She has settled to pick up one of the children—the child is an Uchiha there is no question even from this far. The scene is one he feels is beyond the span of reality, and it looks to show him the impossibility. Possibilities he could not have.

And yet it looks so possible—painstakingly possible.

Madara and the Uchiha woman he had picked would forever keep this from becoming a reality.

They would never allow such possibilities.

She has noticed him, and her face is turning to him. It’s as if the world wants to make sure he memorizes it. Time is slowed once more with this everyday movement making it elegant. He had not realized something else could quake his being with whispers outside of war, he had not realized his eyes could widen to such lengths as if blinking would make him miss it, and he had not realized that his hand has left his hair to hesitate in the air seemingly towards her.

“Sasuke-kun!”

This nymph of spring is beaming with the widest of smiles—it’s not fake nor an act. There is an indescribable genuineness to this emotion that decorates her so vividly before him. He cannot gather if it is joy, or adoration. He cannot gather if this is happiness painted onto her being. She is running towards them with children trailing her path, and he’s once again feeling time regain its normal pace forcing him to remember how to breath. Ebony flutter for only moments seeing the pale leaden haired male, fiery orange hued haired male, and vibrant scarlet haired woman captured by her. All of them are looking to her.

His foot shuffles back as if to create distance. She is too close. She is creating closeness. She is swallowing him up. She had always been ethereal, otherworldly, and exotic. Holding a child of Uchiha blood only manages to expand her unearthly territories.

There is fear. Sasuke Uchiha is scared.

He is retracting his hand to his side as if touching her will bring him fear beyond what he already has. The eyes of his comrades have found him again as she stands before him with the children circling her and the one upon her arm hugging that neck of hers that he just now realizes is delicate and thin.

The swell of something—he thinks it might just be pride—is heavy on his chest now. The once retracted fingers have raised once again and press upon the small child’s back that bears the Uchiha crest in its bright whites, and deep rich reds. He wants to blame her for his step forward to bring him closer to her as he looks down upon those glowing viridian to see what is held in them.

No—it’s not her who has created this closeness. It’s him.

“I’m home.” her voice is the barest of whispers.

The momentary silence is not deafening, and is only but a second before the words tumble from his lips.

Welcome home.

The time for Shubun no Hi is upon them, and it’s just as foreign as it had been in the previous year. This year is different though—this year he is with her to clean his mother and father’s plots of their weeds, and bring forth flowers to offer upon their proper prayers. All around them is in spirit to bring forth the fall season and hope for good harvest.

He seems to not mind his busy schedule throughout this time, and it’s here that she notes that he is diligent in being the leader his people need. The work ethic he has is not one she ever questioned, but assisting him in these times, and having proper guidance compared to the previous year only brings forth the blossoming smile upon her face as they go about their duties.

Sasuke gives the greatest of care when visiting his mother and father. He comes to them every day that passes in this celebration. The solemnity that radiates from him in their presence coats the air thickly within his long silent prayers. Viridian drink this man in, in these moments. This heavyhearted man in front of her makes her heartache with the inability to do more than stand beside him. She knows these feelings well. She has felt them, and she can only imagine how much strength it has taken him to continue forward when he was left alone. He has carried this disconsolate feeling far longer than her, and that’s why she has made sure when he is finished and it is her turn to stand before them that she takes her time. There are wishes for their happiness in the afterlife, there is hope for their continued happiness, there is praise for their son and all that he is, and there is the request to leave their son in her continued care. These are the requests she makes every time they visit before placing down the floral arrangements she picks each day.

The temple festivals are nothing like the one she’s grown up with, but that does not stop her from putting in the extra effort to bring forth some of her own traditions. She sits among the children in the village giving their parents time to rest and give tales of Chang’e. There are times he comes upon her mid tale, and times he is gone from her to do more for those requesting assistance.

The civilians and children who listen to her tales of the wife who flew to the moon after saving her husband’s beloved elixir of immortality stare upon her with awestruck expressions. The gazes are welcoming as it shows their interest and delight at such a romanticized tale. It gives way to more tales of dragon and lion dances that she laid her eyes upon as a child their age, sacrifices to the moon, eating of moon cakes, and expressions of yearning for family who live out of fingers reach.

All that she gives brings forth the warmest of smiles, and looks.

The children request her to go with them to give prayer, and sacrifice to the moon, and she does so gladly. There is the feeling of his eyes upon her from below the steps to the temple. She does not mind it. She takes her place next to him soon after.

Serving him sake to take in the festivities comes with him pouring her a cup as well. The liquid is dry, but warm to her tongue. The sweetness is not one she was expecting—she had held the fantasy that the man before her would rather dabble in bitter drinks. It’s aroma is gentle and almost nutty like.

The serving between them continues as they sit enjoying the moon that shines upon their garden. The silence isn’t thick, and isn’t tense. It makes her smile soft.

“Tell me the tales of Chang’e.”

His interest in a tale romanticizing the devotion of the husband, who had refused to become immortal without his wife beside him, and of the wife, who had been forced to leave his side as she protected his immortal elixir is not one she would have expected.

“In a past far back beyond our own the earth was scorched by ten suns. The divine archer, Hou Yi, shot down nine of them leaving only one to shine down upon the earth. As a reward for his effort and work he was given an elixir of immortality. He would not consume the elixir without his beloved wife, Chang’e.”

It’s here she pauses to give him another serving of the sake he has quietly sipped, “While Hou Yi was out hunting though his apprentice, Feng Meng, sought to acquire the elixir, and tried to steal it. Chang’e refused to give the man the elixir and instead drank it to keep it from his hands. She flew to the heavens choosing to live upon the moon.”

It’s here he refills her cup listening intently to the otherworldly tale, “Hou Yi saddened by the events sought to give sacrifice to his beloved wife. He would give displays of her favorite cakes, and fruits.” the soft laugh that falls from her lips makes her press delicate fingertips to her mouth, “It is truly a romantic tale from my childhood.”

There is no response at first but her eyes are watching him process it as he sips his sake. There is contemplation across his face as he considers the tale, “Would you have done the same as this Chang’e?”

The question catches her off guard. Sakura takes a page from his book and at first does not answer. The viridian capture the moon within their stare and it’s as she looks upon it she smiles. She lets out a noise of consideration finally, “Ah, I wonder.”

He is looking at her and there is the slightest of hues upon his cheeks. The alcohol she assumes is what has made his lips loosen their normally tight lock. She sips from her cup, and then looks back to the moon, “If it were for you then, yes—I would have done the same.”

Sasuke has stiffened beside her and it has tore her eyes from the moon realizing what she had let fall from her own loosened lips.

“Why?” his voice is tight as it comes out in immediate response.

“Why would I have done the same?” she is trying to understand the sudden anger that has flushed his face.

“Why do you do these things?” he spats as he swings back what is left within his cup.

“Sasuke-kun, what things are you talking about?” she is shrinking back at his tone unsure of what he is now asking her.

“You say these things—you keep doing these things—you keep doing all of it. How long are you going to pretend you’re naive that I’ve been asked to bed another woman?” his words are a slap to her face that has her fluttering blackened lashes and give way to a visible flinch.

“Sasuke-kun I—” her voice comes out with hesitation unsure of how to answer what he is saying.

He slams his cup down as he begins to glower at her reactions, and attempts to quell him with that voice of hers, “You truly are okay with me fucking another?”

Gritted teeth, and her own anger now flare to decorate her features at the way he has said such a thing. She cannot stop her hand from clutching the fabric of her kimono of gold near her chest—she is unable to stop her response, “Of course, I am not!” her voice is raised and far too loud for the time of night as she defends herself, “How can you expect me to be okay with such a thing?”

“Then tell me dear wife, why you continue to do this little act of yours?” his voice is raising as he speaks.

Her fingers are slamming down upon the wood of the engawa continuing forward in her defense as her once held cup falls to her feet in the action, “What would you have me do beloved husband?”

“I did not expect my wife to be such a weak woman.” he is hissing the venomous sentence that falls from him as he rises to his feet to stare her down.

There is the sharpest of breaths taken at his words, and she cannot stop the widening of her doe-eyes at being called weak. The words are crushing her, cutting her deep, and bleeding her out. He would dare to think she was weak for her grin and bare it stance. He has only given the rancorous seed water allowing it to grow even deeper throughout her being. The spiteful flower blooming is of the most poisonous kind. She can only believe it will be the end of her one day.

Rising to meet his standing form she cannot stop the visible shaking that has overtaken her body as the heat of her anger fills her small frame. Viridian have glassed over as his words continue to hit her. She cannot—dares not—look him in the eye. Her throat burns as her voice gives out a strangled and loud cry—the tears have fallen.

I’m doing it all for you!

She is sobbing and he is walking away from her with a growl escaping his throat at her response. He does not come home even after she has long since cried herself dry. It had taken every ounce of her stubborn nature to fight the resent that blossomed and sought to seize her completely. It had lurked from the tips of her toes to her fingers that twisted within the sheets. Her will had been beaten and buried within those vines so full of churlish disdain, and only after she had cried herself tearless was she able to pull herself back from that world so spiteful.

They do not go in the following days to his parents plot together. They do not assist and accompany each other throughout the rest of Shubun no Hi.

She does not stand beside him within his prayers.

It is on the last day when she stands before her long since passed in-laws that she seeks to ask them to forgive her for allowing that resentment to linger deep inside her. She seeks to ask them to forgive her for abandoning their war torn son who continues to mourn them even after so much time has passed. She seeks to ask that they allow her to stand beside him once more after such abandonment. She has brought more flowers to sit upon their graves. She burns the incense—the prayers bring shame in asking for so much, and it’s as she asks these things that she feels her eyes burning with tears desperate to shed. Her throat feels constricted as she rises from her kneeling position curling her fingers into her kimono, and bows to them. Rose-colored stands slide down her shoulders as she lets her voice croak out to give them gratitude, “Thank you so much for standing with him in my absence. I will do all that I can for him.”

As the tears fall she locks the cry that threatens to spill within her throat before turning to see him just behind her.

How long had he been there? When had he arrived?

He had heard her gratitude and declaration that much is certain. He is decorated with wide-eyed ebony ocular windows, and lips parted in startlement. It’s seeing this expression that releases the cry that forces her petite hand to her mouth to keep any others that would dare fall muffled as her feet carry her from him and his parents.

[sekai-no-koi]

ffxv oc

Basic:

Names: Ajiamondelphi, Ajia, Aji

General demeanor: Mostly quiet, sometimes teasing, overall mysterious.

Declared motivation: Claimed Prompto as a host

Core motivation: Protect Noctis and his friends, see Prompto have a happy life.

Smaller goals: have her own independent body, eat cup noodles

Virtues (ex. humility, kindness, chastity, patience, liberality, diligence): She’s patient, and maybe even too forgiving. She is kind, and also chastity I guess?

Sins (ex. gluttony, lust, greed, pride, wrath, sloth): She switches between low self-esteem and pridefulness… And sloth is probably her most recurring sin.

Physical:

Physical description, in detail: Pure white hair down to her shoulders. Deathly pale skin. Black eyes. In her pure form, her body is only vague light, with two winglike extensions floating behind her. Once linked, she wears a copy of her host’s clothing (unless/until she changes clothes). She glows under any kind of natural light, making night travels dangerous if the moon or stars are out.

Physical capability: In hand-to-hand combat, she has no training, and is about as strong as any other human.

Physical limits: She can’t run forever, but if she’s glowing, she can float and glide, and that doesn’t tax her at all. She does need to sleep just as much as the average human would.

Sexual orientation: Doesn’t matter. She hasn’t given it any thought, herself.

Intelligence:

Musical intelligence: She can sing on-key and in time, but she doesn’t know how to use any instruments and she’s not particularly interested. 3/5

Bodily-kinesthetic intelligence: Mediocre at best. 2/5

Interpersonal intelligence: Highly intelligent in this way. She has a great intuition for other people. 5/5

Verbal-linguistic intelligence: She’s smart in this way as well, though not to the level of her interpersonal intelligence. It’s enough that she can pick up languages (and the latest versions of languages) fairly quickly. 4/5

Logical-mathematical intelligence: She can’t do it in her head. She has to talk it out or write it out. 3/5

Naturalistic intelligence: She doesn’t have deep knowledge, as studying details is not something she is adept at doing, but then she’s not completely ignorant. 2/5

Intrapersonal intelligence: She has a good sense of what she wants and why she does things. 4/5

Visual-spatial intelligence: 3/5, nothing to write home about.

Home life:

Born: She was created hundreds of years ago. You’d think this would make her wise, but.. she doesn’t pay much attention, so.

Raised: Not raised so much as allowed to wander. Spent a lot of time in the forest, now turns her attention to the sea.

Present home: Wherever her host, Prompto, goes.

Parents: She was created by the goddess of hearth and home, Hestia.

Siblings: There were once so many, but they’ve all wandered now…

Childhood friends: There is a type of cream-coloured mouse that all descended from a pet of hers that she considers her sacred animal and has given blessings to – that they would never die out, never overpopulate, live long and healthy lives. She hates to see anything suffer, and those little mice were there at her very beginning, so they’re precious to her.

Current friends: There is a mischievious spirit with a human-sized pair of raven’s wings on his back. His name is Seraph. He’s been a repeat-offense troublemaker. She can easily stop him. Last time she turned him into a baby and raised him like her own son, but he just rebelled again, hating the way he’d been defenseless. So this time she turned him into a juvenile panther and is raising him again. He’s allowed to go into his true form if he is fighting for the right reasons. She allows him to communicate with only her telepathically, as opposed to before when he could communicate with anyone. There is also Noctis and crew of course, but she’s not sure that they’re quite friends yet.

Extended family: n/a

Roommates, past and present: noct prompto iggs and gladio obvs, also smol panther boi

Habits:

Orderly or messy: she’s fairly neat, kinda middle of the spectrum

Eating habits: Eats whatever is on hand whenever she’s hungry unless she’s focused on something

Workout routine, if any: none

Favorite time-waster: She’ll go and take pictures of stuff just for fun

Hobbies: She likes to try different types of art, though she’s not particularly good at any of them. After hundreds of years where she could’ve practiced.

Favorites:

Favorite music: She likes very, very dramatic music, which usually falls under the pop or rock genres but there’s some classical in there as well. She has no idea how the music genres work and just has a running list of her favorite songs.

Favorite color: Blue and white.

Favorite food: Noodles, especially dumplings.

Favorite person: prompt o

Powers:

She is most powerful with water-based magic.

Healing: Her secondary power. She can cast spells on the same level as a potion relatively easily or she can stop what she’s doing and focus to administer the healing power of phoenix down. 

Defense: Her primary power. She creates bubble-like shields, invisible unless they’re being touched, and then they glow a warm light.

Offense: She casts rainstorms of warm, light energy which destroys daemons slowly but surely and will eventually short-circuit any kind of machinery.