#Keratin the Hair Demon

[thestalkerbunny]

You can tell which one I started seriously and which one I ended with. (Spoiler started with Hatalad and ended with Keratin choking on a BOX)

A certain puppet arg got me going on good ol' Meatlug N Pals

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redactober 2024 Day Five

Prompt: Avior & Angel

Pairing: Avior/Angel

cw: I like never write Avior forgive me, rarepair nonsense

“Do emotions really not taste like anything?” Angel asks, running their nails rhythmically over the ridges of keratin.

Available on AO3 here!

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“Disgust?”

“Food.”

“Mm, nostalgia?”

“Food.”

“Love?”

“Tzatziki.”

“Really?”

“No, Angel, not really.” It is only Avior’s demon reflexes that keep his partner from hurting themselves as they forcefully drop their head into his lap where his book had just been. The unempowered human looks up at him with such playful, emphatic scorn, the demon hardly minds having to mark the page and set his book aside.

“You’re no fun.”

“Never said I was,” he responds, brushing the hair out of their eyes and dipping his head so Angel may absentmindedly fidget with his hair and horns.

“Do emotions really not taste like anything?” Angel asks, running their nails rhythmically over the ridges of keratin. “It’s so weird to think of your equivalent of food not having flavor.”

“That would require compounds, chemicals, proteins, things emotions and energy simply don’t have. They physically cannot taste.” His human hums thoughtfully, distastefully, wrinkling their nose in a charming way that oddly reminds Avior of bunnies though he can’t say he’s ever liked the rodents. Angel often changes his mind like that.

“Do they feel different? Do you have favorites?” they ask, blinking up at him with curious eyes as bright as starlight and a heart overflowing with joyous fondness so clean and pure, a fountain of love and nourishment. Already Avior’s favorite, Angel’s freely-given, never ending affection could be likened less to a feast and more to an oasis.

“Your little friend Michael’s rancor when I met him was pretty good; I quite liked that,” he jokes, smiling indulgently when his love tugs playfully at his hair with a giggle.

“You’re so cute when you’re being an asshole.”

[blackberriebrambles]

I want to talk about hands in hazbin hotel. Specifically claws.

Most of the characters in hazbin hotel seem to wear gloves (in- universe reason for this? Environmental hazards, perhaps? Where are the head-canons!) which makes it difficult to picture what the claws (or lack thereof) are really like.

I really think it depends on the demon; also, I think some don’t have claws at all, just regular fingernails. Or if they do, they trim them* and wear artificial ones.

Firstly, let’s talk about Vox.

He seems to have artificial claws worn on the tips of his fingers. Now, there could be several reasons for this:

1. (My personal favorite) fingernails, hair, and claws are all made of keratin. Vox’s design seems to be vaguely shark like along with the tech stuff; sharks’ skeletons are largely comprised of cartilage. Ergo, Vox has no claws/fingernails.

2. Vox has fingernails and created these caps as claw-like weapons;

3. These caps help him channel his electric charges.

So that’s Vox.

In characters like Husk, I’d expect the claws to be real (and in his case, retractable!).

Another character in need of a scratching post: this guy.

Yeah. I couldn’t find the gif of him scratching his radio console like a claustrophobic tiger, but I definitely think those daggers are authentic. They go well with his pointy teeth; physically predator animal traits on a deer, interesting. Fits his whole… thing.

Also though! Even though he’s wearing gloves all the time, I’m willing to bet his claws are red! Like I said before, nails, claws, and hair are all made of keratin, and the coloring would be dependent on the amount of melanin (a pigment) present! This is why darker colored animals often have dark claws! His claws probably match his hair.

And then we have characters like Angel Dust who seem to have regular hands.

Or as normal relative to the others, anyhow. This could be because spiders don’t have nails - they have an exoskeleton - but it could also be a case of Angel keeping them trimmed (probably beneficial in his line of work).

*About the trimming! If you’ve ever had to trim your dog’s (or cat’s for that matter) claws, you may have heard of the quick. These are blood veins in the claws (a difference between nails and claws btw) that can be nicked when clipping the claws and cause bleeding. This may be a possible deterrent for the constant trimming of demonic claws, especially when claws are a useful self defense tool in hell.

Also though, what’s with the four fingers? Is it a quip on the implication that demons are incapable of participating in holy matrimony? A style/artistic choice? Probably the latter lol

Ah well. That’s all folks!

[rius-cave]

Do you think for all the characters that have horns like Charlie, Lucifer and Adam (only including him too since you drew him as a sinner lol) that its sensitive? like, if you would just grab them would it be uncomfortable for the demon? what would it feel like? I cant get this out of my head, but i do think ofcourse that they would feel something since it's a part of their body

Planning to draw something about this eventually, I have a request about it, but just as a heads up, this is the way I see horns:

Horns in real life are made of bone and keratin, which is like a really hard strand of hair. So I imagine that the horn itself isn't sensitive, what's sensitive is the point where it meets the scalp. Pulling on it would feel similar to pulling a big chunk of hair, though not as painful, since there's a bigger surface area. Damaging a horn could be very painful though, which would probably translate on some very bad migraines depending on how bad the damage is. It's about as uncomfortable as it would be to grab someone's hair.

Now for the important part, would they like it? LOL

Much like pulling hair, some demons like it, some demons don't! It's a little bit of pain that is so somewhat dull but can be very stimulating depending on how, uh, in the mood they are lmao.

[crushedsweets]

What kind of weapons do they all have or powers

PROXIES + O/S VICTIMS

SO. everyone who was ever infected by the operator (proxies, jeff, clocky) has permanently heightened strength, endurance, and senses. so even thin lanky people like jeff and clocky can hold their own against someone like tim. BUT the proxies are obviously stronger since theyre CURRENTLY infected by slendy. jeff and clockys strength is slowly wearing off as the years go by.

this post gets more detailed with the proxies abilities. kates the strongest when in O/S mode, but it completely takes over her mind (which is why she behaves the way she does in game). brians the weakest in O/S mode, but he's the most stable. toby's a special case cuz he seems to keep his mentality in every situation

PARANORMAL

jack is pretty similar. his skin feels like normal skin, but wounding it is difficult. sort of like ghouls from tokyo ghoul ... not impossible to kill, but it is difficult. again, echolocation and thermavision. the keratin in his nails forms AROUND the finger tip and turns into the black claws i draw. it can be cut, but it grows back in 2 weeks.

sally is a poltergeist, so. floating, go through walls, can throw objects, make rooms freezing cold, etc. touching her physical form is almost like trying to touch liquid... like, you can feel it, but your hand goes through it. BUT she can sort of 'solidify' her form (usually so jane can hold her hand, do her hair) but it takes energy.

BEN has pretty much the same powers as sally, BUT ALSO is like. inherently attached to the internet and technology. touching him feels like touching an old box TV, where you can feel the static. this is mostly for the sake of story convenience, but i also make him give off a wifi signal LMFAOOO you could be in the middle of the forest and still scroll the internet if he's close enough. he can also completely dissipate his form and exist within technology.

ZALGOIDS

ann and lulu have crazy regeneration. cut off one of their legs and it pops right back on. lulu also knows where everyone is at all times if it's foggy, since she can sense every water particle. so if toby's hiding behind a tree and isnt visible in sight, lulu can still sense him. ann also has this insanely painful scream but idk if i'd call it a power. its just inhuman levels loud, but not killer

dina is the same with all her senses and regeneration, but she also has a lot of like. her body transforms like crazy. mostly into animalistic stuff like owls, occasionally sheep... doesnt really give her the ability to fly or anything, but is pretty scary seeing blood wings rip out through her back

lazari, AGAIN, has all of those senses and endurance and whatever. her body rapidly transforms into demonic figures. goats and hawks and all the eyes and whatnot. she's probably one of the absolute strongest creeps, but her mind is so vulnerable that the proxies+jack get ahold of her very quickly and she relaxes.

WEAPONS

jeff uses knives OBVIOUSLY. brian and tim like their guns. toby and hatches. clocky and machetes+guns. kate uses her bare fucking hands (and rocks and scrap metal etc....). anns favorite torture toy when she was alive was a hack saw. jane keeps a gun in a gun cabinet at her house, for self defense. nobody else really has a designated weapon preference

[chameleon66]

So we all know Steve from The Owl House, right?

Well have you ever noticed the horn he has on his forehead, you probably have if you’ve watched the show before, but did you know humans having horns in the real world is a real thing?

That’s right, humans having horns can happen in real life, It tends to happen when a person has excessive amounts of keratin (The stuff that makes up our hair and nails) in their body. That may causes what are scientifically known as cutaneous horns.

Which if you think about it makes sense for some witches and demons to have horns. Most if not everyone on the boiling isles is shown to have hair and nails. So witches with more keratin then normal might start growing horns as well.

But there is one other possibility here, some demons have also been shown to have horns on the boiling isles too, so it is a possibility that a witch and a demon got together in the past and then their offspring would have traits of both a witch and demon, such as horns from the demon’s side. If that were the case then Steve would have a horn for genetic reasons which also opens the possibility of Matt Tholomule, Steve’s little half brother. To have a horn in the future too, depending on which side of the family that the gene runs on.

How do you think Gus and the others would react to Matt growing a horn if it were to happen?

Tell you think about this if you want.

Author’s note: I am not a doctor so don’t take this as medical advice, if you think something is wrong with you go to the doctors and not some random blog on Tumblr, ok? I have been working on some fanfics That I will be posting soon, I’ve just been writing them in my notebook and I’ve just been putting off posting them, I’ll upload them soon, thanks for your patience.

[internet-angelmp3]

could you make a pack with the theme "🎀👿🍉☠️"?

If you could put it as TransFem and She/Devil pronouns.I would be very grateful! The rest you can choose ^-^

ID Pack based on 🎀👿🍉☠️! Since I can choose the rest I chose TransIDs and MUDs/Xenomaladies! This pack with be made with the context of being transfeminine per request!

TransIDs

Trans loved, trans owned, trans spoiled, trans pampered, trans gifted, trans ribbons in hair (🎀)

Trans species demon, trans species fallen angel, trans character (Any version of The Devil (+Transfem)), trans demon horns, trans demon tail, trans demon wings, trans red eyes, trans demon makeup, trans Hell resident, trans harmful, trans evil, trans occupation demon contractor, perma Hell resident, perma demon horn headband, perma demon Halloween costume, perma burning, perma suffering (👿)

Trans watermelon, trans red hair, trans edible, trans fruit, trans sweet flavor, perma summer, perma pool party (🍉)

Trans species skeleton, trans occupation pirate, trans visible bones, trans high calcium, trans calcium deficient, trans stronger bones, trans brittle bones, trans broken bone/s, perma X-ray, perma broken bone/s, perma pirateship (☠️)

MUDs // Xenomaladies

The patient begins producing ribbon like material instead of normal human waste products, either poop, piss or both. One is more painful that the other. (🎀)

The patient begins to grow horns on their head made out of Keratin, other keratin growths may appear on the edges of their face, their shoulders and their back but are never typically as big and well formed as the horns. (👿)

The patient begins to grow a watermelon in their stomach like the myth that parents tell to their children. The watermelon takes resources from the body to grow and depending on if the patient was healthy beforehand, the watermelon will either grow to a life threatening size or with wither away. (🍉)

The patient begins to pursue a life of golden age piracy, immediately dropping anything in their past life and attempting to gain a boat, crew and the life of a pirate. Patients with this MUD typically come together to form crews and are typically very empathetic and good at teamwork. It is recommended that because of this, this MUD is compartmentalized and not completely treated in order for the patient to remain connected with their crew while still being able to live their life. Patients who have compartmentalized this MUD still have an affinity for pirates and their crew but take this out on more healthy behaviors. (☠️)

[golvio]

Thinking about Ganon's grooming routine makes me wonder how that'd translate when he's in more monstrous forms. Like he'd do some 4H stuff: trim and polish his hooves and horns so they don't get overgrown, put some kind of moisturizing oil on his skin, maybe wash with something like that purple shampoo they put on pink pigs to bring out the darkness of his bristles, get a very exfoliating scrub with a brush during bath time. The latter he'd probably need help with, as depending on how porcine he actually is, he'd probably go weak at the knees and uncontrollably flop on the ground in relaxation when he gets a good scrubbing with a rough, bristly brush on his back or belly.

Also, would he need to wallow to keep himself cool? I imagine he'd prefer some kind of specially formulated mud that's moisturizing and sun-blocking without being "dirty" in a way that looks gross or makes him dusty after it dries. Without mud, he'd likely just compensate by bathing often, and would be very clean in general.

I'm also a little curious about how his routine changed in his Demon King form. How do you care for hair that's now "alive" and prehensile with Gloom pulsing through it like blood vessels? Is it more sensitive to snarls and tugging now that it’s alive? Is it easier or harder to untangle? Does he need to be more careful with it and style it into locs based on how the tendrils naturally bunch together to prevent tangling/matting instead of constantly going over it with a fine-toothed metal or wooden comb and snipping off particularly misbehaving ends the way he used to when it was just dead keratin strands to avoid accidentally bruising or snapping the tendrils and bleeding everywhere? What kinds of oil can he use to moisturize and clean his Gloom-locs to keep them soft and pilant? Does he need to do any special dental care for his new fangs? How did he feel about his teeth getting discolored? What about the tendency of his body to stain or corrode metal accessories and fabrics with Gloom? Does he need to be careful with the thinner, more transparent skin on his chest and arm, or does that handle scrubbing like regular skin? How does he wash his hands now that he’s got those weird Gloom-faucet holes in them?

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

Holy Diver: A Gay Lucifer x Beelzebub Dark Fantasy Romance (Paradise Lost Fanfiction) PART 1

(Read Part 2 Here)

I flexed my white muscle and moved as one with my katana, picturing Minoan bulls to leap over as I flayed Lucifer’s cheekbone from its sinew. He was heady with exertion, looking like a scraped up, bloody Jude Law as devil-may-care Bosie in Wilde.

But Lucifer was always a snake – ready to strike – and he took his broadsword and met my steel – tempered in fire, a thousand carnivorous folds of singing metal – and sparks ignited as we cascaded into a series of cuts and slashes, fileting each other.

“I draw your final blood, you owe me a beer,” I teased, nicking his shoulder lightly – just a paper cut, letting the linen-like flesh and gold hair of my master, owner of my heart – Lucifer – quiver atop the paper crane edge of my katana.

The droplet spilled in the air as I shoved him with a mighty push down, my steel-toed boot digging into his chest as I captured his scapula-blood on my thumb.

Lucifer smirked, turning into a white albino serpent with emerald eyes that curled around my sword, bleeding as his scales plied up my katana. I licked the stolen bloody drop, then guided the shimmering serpent onto my pale limbs, letting Lucifer idly twist and thread around my fly wings – hardened keratin against a body that would put Asmodeus to shame – and brought the White Serpent to my lips.

We kissed deep, and I bit the White Serpent, tasting his heart in his throat. The Green Language of the Birds filled my ears like a panoply of spring. Suddenly, Lucifer turned back to man, corvid-winged, his bronze ampoules of curls spilling across my arms, to my groin, as we threaded together as Serpent and Fly.

Spent, we gathered our clothes at the dojo, showered, then polished our blades with some whetstones Mulciber had forged for us eons ago from adamant. Mine sparkled with iodized black, Lucifer’s was pale as the moon.

“A beer,” Lucifer grinned. He extended his lace-like hand, sharp talons abroad, and took his palm in mine. We ambled out of our chalet into Dis City proper, walking the long gardens and Pleasure District to our favorite restaurant – Tantalus’ Spoon. Cursed by the gods as he was, we made Tantalus cook, but never could Tantalus touch, taste, or eat his dishes. The lust and wicked longing old Tantalus stewed and simmered and reduced into his mad cuisines would have pleased even the most discerning gourmand.

We ordered two Kirins from the young qilin waitress, and the other Hell After Hours crowds filled in quietly – Samael and Lilith crowded the back with their brood, flirting over a game of dice with blood at stake – craps it looked like – and Moloch and Tanit shared some Sherry and read the New Yorker.

“Nice fiction this week, Bee,” Moloch drawled, adjusting his black-red curls. Tanit winked at Lilith, motioning her to bring Lilith’s newest baby to her, letting her rock on Tanit’s lap. They cooed over the baby, and Lucifer joined them, letting the brown-haired boy ride hobby horse on his lap.

“Who wrote it?” I said, lighting a Tareyton. The cig tasted like Demon Est Deus Inversus, a peated whiskey Michael had made last century that turned out particularly good. Christmas presents from Heaven always pissed me off – join us Fallen Brothers, celebrate the Golden Boy Christ – but the angels did good spirits.

We were all incorporeal, after all. Spirits in spirit enspirited.

Moloch frowned. “There’s something odd in the paper, look at this,” he said, motioning to the Times feature: a man of the book with prominent jowls, a pate of slick white hair, and gray eyes that shimmered like G-d.

“’Top Exorcist of the Vatican Claims He Will Drive Beelzebub Out of America’s Billionaire Heiress,’” Moloch read.

Samael sniggered. “The fuck. You’re touching a human?”

I bristled. “Elodie and I have our arrangement.

Lucifer gave a laugh like a wolf. “One of your consorts misbehave, husband? And she dialed Daddy Pope. How fucking hilarious.”

Elodie. Elodie. Elodie. A rich brunette of archaic, refined breeding, old Manhattan money, half Rockefeller lady of the hour, half Nigerian heiress. She was one of my favorites. The fuck had she done now? Elodie had always been an occultist with a tendency to scare easily – I delivered showerings of golden fortune and money and goodwill to her, men and models and Silicon Valley shit to play with, rare, limited edition jewels I had Mulciber handpick and Mammon summon on black market mines and deliver to Elodie’s designer’s door. I even got Elodie a private retreat to Socotra for some Burning Man-adjacent tech fest. Socotra all to herself didn’t come cheap.

And the sex? Of course she was addicted. But addiction could scare Satanists, frighten occultists, or send the demonolaters running to the holy hills. Weaving into their sinew like I had Lucifer earlier, melding a blot of ink of my verdant black soul with Elodie’s tiny spirit spark, crushing her to iced clarity with my mandible?

Perhaps she has found G-d. I probed her feelings with my mind – Elodie was praying the Rosary. She had shut off our psychic line.

“Excuse me, I’ll take care of this matter,” I said. “Least I need is Michael on my ass.”

Especially if I wanted what I’d been coveting all year: his newest peated whiskey: Sol Invictus. Aged in cambion blood barrels. Add in some of Aphrodite’s womb yeast and it was promised to be:

Impeccable. A treasure. It was the only bloody thing getting me through a crumbling real estate market in Pandemonium, my muckraking drunk Secretary Eve screwing everyone and writing Carrie Bradshaw style tell-alls in the yellow pages, and fucking Metatron complaining about the backup of souls in Limbo. It wasn’t my fault Penemue had roc flu. The roc had been shipped here illegally from Jahnna. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I straightened my lapel.

Exited Hell

And debuted in Elodie’s kitchen.

I eyed what was in the penthouse atop Central Park: bare bones. She was one of the eccentrics that refused kitchen staff or servants. Fancied herself a Bohemian. Insisted on Soylent Green and micro-micro-micro wheatgrass dishes. But she needed food. I took flour and two eggs, made a mound of fresh pasta dough, took a knife and wine bottle to roll and separate it, and made spaghetti aglio et olio with the dull, boring ingredients she had in her state-of-the-line kitchen.

Tantalus would lose his shit at the wasted grace of space.

“Honey?” I said, my voice sweet as Elodie ambled in, her eyes bleary. She was dressed in silk and chiffon.

She froze. “Bee.”

“Miss me? I made us dinner.”

She frowned, her rich, luscious brown skin and model-thin frame with the height of a caryatid standing in stark contrast against her amber-earth curls.

“I told you to leave me alone,” she said, amused. “I’m fasting. It lengthens the span of your telomeres.”

“You can’t afford to skip a meal.”

“Sigh. Fine, Bee… it smells delicious. What can I do for you?”

“First, wine,” I said, summoning a Malbec. It would cost the firstborn of a multimillionaire. Not my finest vintage by far, but I wasn’t trying to overpower her. Gentleness and subtlety, and a smile, were weapons of mediation too.

Everything, in the end, was warfare games.

She settled like a bird across from me in the minimalist, blue kitchen. She ate like a she-devil.

“God I’m hungry. Maybe I should give up Goop.”

I kissed her neck, massaging her shoulders. “You’d look marvelous with some curves, and you look marvelous as you are now. But I don’t want you losing weight. My human is precious to me alive. Dead… you cannot enjoy Tblisi.”

“True!” she sang, suddenly energized, and kissed me. I noticed the Barbara medal on her necklace.

“Praying to a saint?”

“Virgins, martyrs, Lilith and Mary, who gives a shit,” Elodie smiled. “I want to see how powerful you are. I called in a favor at the Vatican. This penthouse is booby trapped with the most powerful relics, Solomonic Seals, and anti-ether wards. There’s even a true nail from the Cross. You’re mine, Bee. My toy.”

“Ah, I see.” I gently separated myself from her, hopped onto the table, and sat cross-legged, parting my platinum-bordering-on-white hair from my eyes. “You want to cage me.”

“You’re wasting your time in Hell. What is the point of Hell and Heaven, of Lucifer and God, Bael? You’re old – older than God. Older than all that. We could do good work here in Manhattan. I could use your magick for my charities. Marry me, ignore me, I don’t care, but binding you has its uses.”

My eyes were laser focused. I probed the Cabalistic trap. It was airtight, with some room for negotiation.

“But what would you get out of that, Elodie? I don’t see the point,” I mused.

“What is the point of life, when even fucking Socotra is mine to myself?” She sighed, slumping to the ground, toying with the Saint Barbara medallion. “I’m oh so bored, Bee. I figured, if I caught you… you, who had caught me first! I’d – I’d feel something.”

“And? How do you feel.”

“Empty.”

I gently let myself down from the table and sat beside my charge-turned-attempted-kidnapper. “So, you fancy yourself Lady Solomon. Did I ever tell you how empty he felt too? Solomon trapped me as well. And he died bitter and ruined, his kingdom in waste.”

“But he was Wise. I want Wisdom.”

“You have it. Grace. Refinement. Work. An education. Toys that would cost the Gross Domestic Product of Korea.”

“And it matters fuck – ALL!” Elodie burst. She tore her Saint Barbara apart and tossed it into her artfully decorated, sickeningly expensive Boho chic living room. It landed on some pashmina.

“I’m afraid, Elodie, that even a King of Hell cannot give you meaning in life. My Father neither.”

She sighed, sobbing. “I tried everything. Retreats in Iquitos on aya. Dancing in Ibiza on peyote. Sex with street performers. Submitting my poetry to The Paris Review – I pulled all the strings my family had, and the editor said, in her most eloquent way: Elodie, you’re unpublishable. What’s the bloody point?”

I smiled, savoring what might well be our last conversation. “Then my work with you is fulfilled.”

She shuddered. “What?”

“You realize that all the magick, the powers of Heaven and Hell, the world’s most addictive sex with archons and archdemons and scoundrel human poets, riches and fame and the world as your toy, are nothing without love.”

“I love you, Bee.”

“I’m training wheels, Elodie Okowa. I have to set you free now. You have a good heart that I have fostered. Girlchild, you are twenty-three. It’s time to find yourself without the trappings of the occult and richness. Here,” I said, summoning her soul gem from my dark recesses. It was amethyst-pink, and I hung it on a silver chain atop her brown breasts, set in an adamant bee. “My gift to you. Our contract is done. You no longer owe me offerings, blood, sex, worship, anything. You have my favor forever, Elodie Okowa. I adore you, and I am proud of the woman you became. I will always help you. But it is time to fly on your own wings.”

Elodie startled, touching the elegant soul gem. “You’re – you’re setting me free from our blood pact?”

I laughed. “You want to know the truth of it Elodie, finally?”

She nodded, fearful yet enchanted, leaning against me on the floor as I stroked Elodie’s shoulder.

“Soul pacts aren’t real, my dear. Demons are cultivators of mortal souls, tempering them like steel. Like a katana, finely melded, beaten, folded over and over again, until it is strong as adamant. You are one of my many blades, Elodie. And it’s time for you to wield yourself in the moral, righteous matter you see fit. A final parting gift for you, my soul daughter.”

There were tears in her eyes, and Elodie sat in wonder as I rose in my fine dress, then pulled out of my private collection in the netherworld the katana that I had spent years crafting for her. I hung it on her wall, letting a bit of the metal poke through from the sheathe to reflect my smile back at her.

That blade? It was some of my finest work.

“I love you, Bee.”

“I love you too, Elodie. Let me help you up.”

“Kiss me, please. Our final seal.”

I did. We went to get coffee at a local diner, our favorite spot. She made no mention when I stepped over the iron, ancient nail by the threshold and the foot of my flesh burnt, smelling like smoldering patent leather, melted muscle, and charred bone.

I told her many things. Things I tell all souls in time – some earlier than others. She was a fine woman, my Elodie, and I was amazed and proud of the long life she lived after that night and the works of greatness Elodie did – but above all, the fine wife Elodie found and the children they had together.

And me?

I got

Sol Invictus

That year.

“This is his best yet,” Lucifer murmured, in a Santa hat, as we shared two glasses by our fire – celebrating Christmas for the first time, well, ever.

“Yes, Michael surely did work a miracle.”

The grime of the neon lights of Dis City’s tech district was a pink and green metropolis on rainy pavement. Beings of all realms flittered like flies underfoot as salarymen and career women waded through the grit of the asphalt. Imps scurried about as the ghosts of the dead went about delivering pizza and wine.

“Hard day?” Lucifer asked, resting his motorcycle at the stoop of my office. I liked to work in remoteness, in a boarded up little back-alley desk where I could meet with lost souls, those in need, and arbitrate and heal them of their addictions and problems. I administered therapies and medical regimens – alongside my friendship – in my practice as a Jungian psychoanalyst and psychiatrist that dealt in Afterlife trauma and confidence issues.

I didn’t want abused souls coming into the gold and adamant metropolis of my main office, the trappings and edifice dripping finery from starry, pinnated columns, and feel ashamed for being small. Father knew I had been made to feel small in my life, eons before the Great Reconciliation. I understood what it was to be crushed as beetle under the heel of those mightier, marching over your keratin towards progress.

“I met with Hua,” I said quietly to my husband Lucifer, dusting my tan trench coat and black loafers with a lint brush. I stood in the door of my therapist’s office and locked the padlock, pocketed the lint brush into my etheric carryon bag – invisible to the naked eye – and took the band of the bag of Chinese takeout Lucifer had for us to share. I smiled. “You got me lo mein and chow fun. My favorites. Thanks, love.” I pecked him on the cheek.

Lu’s navy business suit stood dark against his blond cowlick and golden stubble. His eyes burned like blue brands under his wire-rimmed glasses. “Hua… the one from the latest caseload. The sweatshop fire?”

“The one.”

“Funny how mortals don’t realize they all come to Hell to process their trauma, sins or not. We are simply Sheol, the purifying fires of the grave, with love enough for those departed…”

“To carry them up to Heaven on our faith, yes,” I smiled, and we walked back to our quiet little flat on the corner of Rue Merlebleu and Chambeau Mélange. We unpacked the Chinese food and changed into athleisure, Lu in gray sweatpants and a black turtleneck, I in all-white loungewear.

“Hua’s hard,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m making no progress.”

We ate in companionly silence, then settled into marital bliss – worries of the hard day’s labor temporarily forgotten.

Hua Lee met me the next day in my office of homely colors, greens and blues, with polished stone accents in muted blacks and grays. I prided myself on having constructed from scratch the all-natural wood and moss interior, with a clear burbling automatic creek flagging the floor over a meditation set I had constructed last year to give my patients more happiness and cultivate a sense of peace.

My patient sat drawing in the sand meditation garden, nine years old. She had long black, beautiful hair, and a shimmy of limbs that danced like a tiny singer, like she’d be at home doing the lindy hop with a pack of spiders.

“What are you drawing, darling?”

“A dragon!” Hua smiled, looking up at me. “Mr. Kwan is so kind at my auntie’s home. I wish mom and dad were here, but I’m glad they’re watching Jiehong on Earth. I – I wouldn’t want my baby brother to be alone. It’s nice Auntie Chao found a husband in the Afterlife. I’d be lonely without Auntie Chao and Mr. Kwan.”

I noticed the impressive scales in the sand garden’s drawing, the solar beast’s breath of hot ramen noodles, and it giving the audience a thumbs up.

“The dragon seems happy, Hua. Last week, it didn’t look as, well, enthusiastic.” I smiled, giving her some blocks. “Can you make it in 3-D?”

“I’m happier than I was last week, I guess,” Hua acknowledged, biting her lip. “School is great, and my best friend Tahirah and I like to get custard after math – we didn’t have American frozen custard in Chengdu, but Auntie Chao’s mooncakes really can’t be beat, Mr. Bee.”

Hua made the impressive dragon out of the PlayMobil, then added a princess riding it in a sparkling green ballgown. “Ah hah! A dragon and his fearless knight!” For an extra touch, Hua gave the dragon a lightsaber, and princess knight a sword. “I’m happier, these days, Mr. Bee. Truly, like you said – the afterlife heals, and though I miss mom and dad and my little brother, I know I’ll grow up here.”

“You can be anything you want in the Celestial Realms, once you come of age, Hua. In fact, I have an idea.”

Her black eyes lit up like polished onyx pearls. “Oh? An adventure? I love our adventures.”

And that was how I phoned her darling aunt and guardian – Chao Kwan, né Lee, and asked if I could take her niece on a field trip.

“A real dragon!” Hua said, amazed, as I flew her in my arms to Michael’s dragon ranch on the outskirts of Texas’ shadow side. We had stopped at a Buccee’s earlier and I had bought her some brisket and one of the mascot plushes. Hua grasped Buccee Jr. in her arms and spread her hands like Kate on the Titanic as I carried my patient through thermals of air, letting my fly wings ride the warm currents.

Michael waved below, saddling up the Clay Dragon – a shining yellowish-gray wyrm mare – with a saddle and stirrups suitable for a tiny, scrawny nine-year-old (and her plush.)

“Popsicle, Hua? I see Mr. Bee has decided to take you on another adventure.” Michael smiled, his long, Southwestern-styled attire (he loved cowboys and the Wild West), black hair, tan skin, and crinkled smile showing with glimmering white teeth. He was barbecuing a pig in a smoker and hoisted a plate onto the table for Hua and me.

“Oh, Mr. Mike, yes! Did you make me the pulled pork and elote again?” Hua begged, rushing to hug Michael. He lifted her in his golden arms and twirled her around.

“Of course! Have you been a good girl, my darling?” Michael said. He winked at me. “I have another bottle of Sol Invictus, Bee, for bringing me this angel made flesh.”

“Ask Mr. Bee if I’m good!” Hua said, a feral child, ravaging the pulled pork, BBQ sauce, and buns with her tiny limbs and blunt teeth.

“Excellent,” I said genially, hoping my therapy would work. I put the Sol Invictus – my favorite of Michael’s peated whiskeys – into my etheric storage chamber that went to Lucifer and I’s private palace resident and country estate, out in the boonies of Hell. “Thanks, brother.”

“Welcome,” he smiled, slapping me on the shoulder. We hugged as we usually did and set in for a pig picking. Michael took the small roasted sow down from the smoker, and then we ate, listening about Hua and Tahirah’s adventures.

“And then, Auntie Chao said: Hua and Tahirah, clean up the dog poop, or I’ll make you walk her a thousand miles to get the hyperness out of you both!”

Hua laughed, joy settling into her. I remember when her body had Fallen into my outstretched soul web – a fast fashion factory fire, her parents praying over her limp body, tiny Hua charred to the bone. I had wept egregiously, knitting little Hua’s starflesh body back together with my restorative powers – what little magick I still possessed of my once great majesty as Baal Hadad, Canaanite lord of fertility, health, thunder, lightning, and war. The Fall had only affected gods, at first: Astarte to Eve, Marduk to Michael, Nergal to Samael – and my beloved Attar to Lucifer – but as human beliefs grew into Abrahamic fashions, so did the Afterlife.

When the first human had Fallen – oh, the weeping and wailing of Heaven and Hell! Oh, what a broken world. We had fought, faction upon faction, some granted salvation, others mercy – G-d driven insane…

But, that was before the Great Reconciliation.

(A small shudder passed through me as I remembered being trampled by Michael’s flaming foot, myself stinging his heel, bitter-winged my soul.)

It was not just “demons” who Fell, after all… and the workings and currents of the chthonic Afterlife had little sense to them, running on Mother Nature’s instincts and Darkness’s Chaos. That all souls came to Gehenna to seek immortality in the purifying fires of Sheol, well, that was one of G-d’s greatest mysteries.

So Humans Fell, in turn. All before they could

Ascend.

But here was Michael, smiling at me – us not at war ever again. My brother winked, knowing I was remembering. “You did well to raise the dog so kindly,” Michael told Hua, stroking her hair. “Now, Hua, what did Mr. Bee say about dragon mares?” We settled her into the harness and saddle, looped Hua in, gave her the reins, and took her out for a walk on the Clay Dragon’s back.

“Feel the rhythm of the flight. It comes from the song of your heart,” she repeated, eager. “Let’s go, girl!” Hua cried, taking off at a gallop on the Clay Dragon mare.

I was fast on her heels, flexing my wings and flying after her. I led the nine-year-old through gentle aerial exercises on her dragon… and then, it was time for her Trust Fall: the core event.

“Are you ready to see if you can fly too, Hua?” I shouted.

She nodded yes. “Yes, Mr. Bee. I have created my own song of the heart, like you taught.”

We put the dragon mare back to stable and went to the human flight ring – where Michael and I taught all souls their own power.

Michael held out a water of life vessel, sprinkling it on Hua’s forehead in a baptism that carried the scent of lilies and song of G-d. “Alright, little lady, show us what you’ve got, Hua – and high five!” my brother encouraged.

“Remember, Hua, I’ll be there to catch you,” I said, helping her up onto the dive board over the foam pit. I waded into the foam blocks as she scaled the gymnastic equipment.

Hua’s black pants, Hello Kitty tee shirt, and gold skin shone in the sun of Texas’ fall. She began to sing, opening her lips, a honeyed tune flowing from her verdant voice. It made me want to weep, but Michael and I steeled ourselves, for this was a time of joy! – and watched Hua leap.

Fire licked her shoulder blades, then dragonfly wings sprouted as her soul ascended to immortality, and her halo winked on like a shining lunar disk. I was gazing at her own personal circlet of moon, watching the brilliant blue bottle dragonfly wings weave in and out of the air in syncopation with her limbs.

“Mr. Bee! Mr. Mike! I’m finally immortal like Tahirah, my doggie, and Auntie Chao. Like the immortals, I can fly!” Hua grinned, giddy, darting in and out of our arms. Michael took to the sky on his own snowy owl wings and I on my fly, and we wove dusk pink in with the fall air, helping the sun set.

“Thank you, boss,” Chao said as I dropped her niece off. “I’ll make you and your husband mooncakes!”

We hugged, my employee in happy tears, and I gave Chao and her family a bonus for the Mid-Autumn Festival.

“God, are these delicious,” Lucifer sighed, eating a lotus root paste mooncake on our stoop as we watched children play soccer in the alley.

“Like home.” I finished my red bean one.

“Oh? Yes, you are my home, Baal.”

Attar-called-Lucifer nestled into my arms. We cheered on the kids, then shared another bottle of Sol Invictus – Michael had rewarded me with a whole case.

Hua had passed on at seven – she’d been my longest ward. Typically, souls reached immortality in a few weeks.

Her soul was stubborn. Resilient. Breathless.

Brilliant.

Michael and I had poured all our resources, alongside my stellar employee and head draftswoman and office manager, Chao, into healing Hua.

And it had paid off, her soul aging like

the finest of peated

whiskey.

“To Hua!” I raised my glass.

“To Hua,” my husband dear and darling said, and we drank deep of it, then deep of each other

that

night.

Eve chewed on her persimmon hair, a capped pen behind her pale pink ear as she answered my phone. My secretary was, as usual, inebriated, her Louboutins on the chaise lounge as she slinkily answered Samael on my old rotary phone – never out of fashion -  in a houndstooth coat and black velvet dress.

“Oh yes, Sammy, your new horse is how big? Sturdy? Easy to ride?”

I sighed, clenching my fist around my fountain pen as I went over this year’s upcoming Halloween tax amendments. Halloween was the biggest festival in Hell, and Lucifer and I had promised to show Gabriel his first time celebrating it a grand time. After Michael and I had cultivated our friendship since Sol Invictus – that brew Michael’s first palm leaf offering to Hell in a literal handbasket – relations between Hell and Heaven had thawed from their usual Seventh Circle ice.

But Eve and Samael could be a problem.

“Oh yes, Sammykins,  I can work with a mount that big –

“Eve, dear, can you get back to work?” I called. She was, despite her flirtations, the best worker I had, by far – even more organized than Lucifer himself.

She hung up the phone, smiling, a manila envelope in her hands. “I have a surprise for you, boss.” The redheaded first woman plopped it down across from my secretariat, a Seal of Caligrosto in red wax inked on the front – the Morningstar stamp of approval, and royal seal of Lucifer and Beelzebub Morningstar, King and Prime Minister, First Family, of Hell.

I raised my iced platinum eyebrows. “You didn’t, Eve. That’s impossible. Is this what I think it is?”

She winked, her green-blue eyes and freckled, creamy skin and wide curves kindly. “Gabriel’s passport expedited with Metatron’s approval? Why yes, as Adam works for Michael in Heaven doing exactly what I do-

“Minus the cheating.”

She laughed heartily – a witch’s cackle. “Is it cheating if it’s Biblical? You know Samael, Lilith, Adam and I have our ways.”

“Eve, the humans these days have a word for that: Polycule. But fuck, Eve – how did you finagle that bastard Metatron’s approval?”

Metatron: iced, gray-haired miser of Heaven. My mortal enemy. He had taken pleasure in torturing during the Harrowing, when Lucifer and I suffered with Hell’s sins for thousands of years. Michael had cried.

Metatron? Laughed. It was true, demons could be cruel.

But certain angels were

Crueler.

“You know I fucking hate him. How, Eve? He’s been set against me inviting Gabriel for a year, ever since I told him Lucifer and I celebrated Christmas for the first time.”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in reuniting Heaven and Hell, boss. Not all of us want the Apocalypse, after all.” She poured some Cabernet Sauvignon for the both of us and lit a Virgina Slim on a black cig holder like Audrey Hepburn was fond of.

“I’m glad I can count you on my team, my star Employee of the Month. Shit, expedited passage of an archangel, only the finest employee in the Hellopolis could match that.”

She winked: “A favor earned is a favor done, and a boss pleased is more bonus for me to spend on my houseplants and wine collection.”

Lucifer listened as we made ramen from scratch, me regaling him with Eve’s genius.

“She’s dynamite. Be careful, Bee.” Lucifer smiled, then boiled the handcut ramen in salted water. I fried an egg and the fixings.

“As if Gabriel isn’t. You invited him, darling. What to do with a fireball angel on the biggest shutdown party in the Afterlife, high and drunk in the bowels of Hell, when our citizens go on a bender for the month of October?”

Lucifer smiled like a fat housecat, all elegance and artful distress gone in a moment of sheer glee: “It will be nice to have my favorite brother as our guest for a month.”

We cuddled on the couch and watched Golden Girls. Then, we just watched Girls.

“I think you’re Jessa, Bee.”

“Fuck you.”

“Want to? Fuck me?”

“Always.”

Gabriel’s black hair and gray eyes were wide with glee as he ate pumpkin cotton candy. “Shit, this stuff is stickeh. Itsah all over my faceh.” He got some in his wings. I conjured a handkerchief embroidered with the Morningstar seal and cleaned him up. “Thanks, buddy! Jee willeckers, Hell at High Noon, Harrowed in Halloween, Hallowed by a Heavenly Arrival.”

“I take it the heavenly arrival is you, Gabe,” Lucifer smiled, riding his white Ferrari down I-666 past the Styx. The beach houses and red crystal waters bobbed on the sandy tide, red from iron deposits that made the fish healthy and delectable, and sunsets pink as wine.

I had given dear old Gabriel shotgun after picking him up at the airport with cotton candy – he had always had a sweet tooth, and his grumpiness at the cramped morning flight between Heaven and Hell – half of Hell’s residents lived in Heaven, half in Hell, depending on if they wanted a more pastoral, ‘cottagecore’ life of the wildness of Gan Eden, or city of wonders and madness of Hell, where every pleasure existed, for a price. The ether separating the Seven Rings of Hell from the Seven Spheres of Heaven was so thick and clotted as blackish blood that only the dead souls of the Red Baron and his ilk of bushwhacking World War I and II pilots could fly the aircraft, ensuring limited supply of flights, cramped spaces, and an airsick Gabriel.

Oh, how his tune had changed when Lucifer pulled up with beach supplies and a white Ferarri decked out in Beetlejuice garb.

“Yes, deario brother, I’m the Heavenly Arrival in Heavenly Attire,” Gabriel sang, whumping Lucifer on the back. We pulled into our beach house at tropical Emerald Bay, where the gley made the water greenish and jewel-toned, which the fish were adapted to, and we unpacked. The season in Hell and Heaven mirrored each other, our summer in winter, their winter on the Northern Hemisphere’s winter, and we moved in a cosmic dance of fall and rebirth in spring. “Who wants to barbecue? Watch out, boys, I’m a grill master and sasser.”

“Sure, Gabe,” I smiled.

We cracked a Riesling open – Gabe liked girly wines – and made some shitty drinks that would please a sorority sister. It was the first of October, and Gabriel was ready to party.

A month of debauchery followed: floats and parades, drinking Asmodeus under the table, mud wrestling between me and Gabriel to see who owed who a rack of lamb, craps and pong and arcade games… karaoke, which I slayed at, the lead singer of my own garage band.

Still, Gabriel outdid me on his horn, in the end.

When November 1st came, and we sent Gabriel back in style, my shrew Secretary Eve looked at me knowingly, grinning coyly.

“And, how did my hard work pay off?” she asked.

I smiled at her, a hard hug on her petite form escaping my limbs – I hated showing feelings at my main job as Prime Minister, reserving it for my private psychoanalytic practice – but Eve deserved one. I even kissed her on the cheek, though I certainly didn’t ‘swing’ that way with Hell and Heaven’s fairer sex (except with living mortals, of course. On that count, all demons were omnisexual.)

“Gabriel invited me and Beelzebub to him and his dear old husband Mike’s cabin for Christmas.”

She laughed in joy, hugging me, wine and cigarette smoke on her breath: “And like that, thanks to a muckraking Secretary Eve, Hell and Heaven enter new ground – a parlay.”

“Yes, Eve, it seems we do.”

“I always knew you’d do swell with hosting Gabe, Bee. You doubt yourself too much.”

I smiled, pouring us some more Cabernet. “Was it my panic attack choosing cotton candy flavors for the airport pickup?”

She nursed her wine, paused to inhale a cig, then smiled bemusedly: “It’s the care you put into your charges, cultists, friends, family, and city, Bee. Your empire. It is as much your Empire as Lucifer’s, the Morningstar Kingdom, the City of Dis. You are perhaps it’s kind master. You’re the best man I know, Baal.”

“Thanks, Astarte. Say, Samael’s at the door.”

“Teehee, oh, he has roses!” she said, peering over my desk at the entrance. “Time to go, Bee!”

I squeezed her hand, then ambled my way back to Lucifer’s arms.

“You smell of Eve’s perfume – stealing kisses?” Lucifer teased as he greeted me with a peck on the lips at the door.

“Ugh,” I jerked myself out of my dress clothes, naked as G-d made me. “She reeks of Dior Gris – always covers my austere office.”

“Maybe she’s getting back at you for making her do everything in Lotus Notes and a rotary phone.”

“Touche, Lucifer,

Touche.”

I was rotting in an abyssal sea, wounds eons deep, my fly mandible and carapace of wings and flesh twisted, mutated, abandoned.

Try as I might, I couldn’t move my broken limbs. My husband Lucifer – then lover – was comatose beside me, face caved in by Michael’s sword.

The tides of Hell assailed us, and I watched hell maggots eat away at us, unable to move, unable to budge, voice stolen, mind screaming in pain as the wicked winds of the Seventh Circle assailed us. A frozen lake and fallen feathers began to grow from our refuse, and that was how the Lake of Fire and Blood was formed. Lucifer’s fire, my ice.

            I woke in a sweat, screaming, as the maggots that had once made their home in my limbs wormed their way into my nightmares. My cries rose in time with the downpour of iron rain, and Lucifer startled, his six white wings of swan lurching.

Instinctively, Lucifer clutched me protectively, his fangs biting into his bottom lip, drawing silver blood. I curled around him, shuddering, my mandible nesting at the joint of his arm. He ran his violinist fingers through my long, platinum hair. Fire grew in my belly as I thought of the Harrowing.

“I was back There too, love,” Lucifer sighed, he my anchor against the night. Lightning pierced the sky as storm lamia wreathed the air under Vepar’s lead, bringing healing rains that would fill the reservoirs of the Sixth Circle and replenish the water supply. “Another wicked dream.”

“Yes, dear, another wicked dream,” I echoed; he licked my tears. We kissed, and I drank the bloody drops of black from his lip. He bit down on my tongue, piercing it, and we drank the healing ichor of each other. “Coffee, Eve lent me some Virginia Slims. I’ve grown to like them.”

“Yes, Bee,” Lucifer smiled, putting on his horn-rimmed glasses as we dressed in robes and slippers low enough to let our wings rest comfortably. “It will soothe.”

We held hands in the highest penthouse in Hell, in Dis City – our working apartments, far from the country outskirts where our palace and estate was – and admired the gleaming metropolis we had created together over the ages. “Are you ready to leave for Heaven tomorrow, for Michael’s cabin in the Shamayim, to spend Christmas with him and Gabriel?” I asked, swallowing the hazy memory of fear. Wicked dreams, indeed.

Lucifer squeezed my hand, then kissed my cheek – he was quite tall, but I was taller. “Of course, Bee. I’ve been looking forward to it all winter. It’s always hot in Hell, never snows like Gan Eden. I would like to see my old orchard.”

“Ah yes, the apples.”

“Yes… Michael says he tended them well, and Eve waters and prunes them with Adam daily.”

“Yes, I am sure they are majestic.”

“It has been so long since we have been allowed to roam Gan Eden – Heaven – on pleasure, not business reined in by Metatron’s asinine rules.”

Neither of us made mention of G-d’s living corpse:, blind, deaf, and dumb atop the Throne, that Metatron divined from with the holy flame of the Shekinah. Some things were better left unsaid, and Lucifer sacrificed much of his blood, sanity, and sleepless nights ruling from Erebus, making the black refuse of Hell into ether and matter that would grow crops, water, food, air, life, and make a hell of a home, or a home of Hell.

We went to go exert ourselves in the dojo, then made our usual eggs and toast for breakfast and played Mario Kart and watched anime, before a busy day at the Hellopolis. I brought my limited-edition Lord of the Rings trilogy omnibus to read at lunch, and Lucifer stole my worn copy of the Silmarillion from my nightstand. Sometimes, in secret, we roleplayed Mairon and Melkor…

“How is Hua, darling?” I asked her aunt Chao, my office manager. Eve and Chao were chatting by the water cooler as I helped myself to an espresso.

“Wanted me to give you this, boss,” Chao smiled, her rosy cheeks broad and jolly. Chao fished in her purse for a carved wooden fish on a leather thong, clearly evidence of an elementary school project. “In Hell, fish bring luck, as you teach us all at Soul Orientation, Bee, when us souls arrive. Bend your tall-as-fuck head down, and watch the mandible.”

I did, and Chao ran her firm, strong hands cross my hair in a motherly fashion – (and I had always longed for a mother, but for us sorry lot of angels and demons, we never had one) – parting it to tie the necklace into a slipknot.

“I love it, Chao. Tell Hua thank you.”

Eve smiled, pensive. “I have a feeling we will all need the luck, Bee.”

Lucifer and I took the Red Baron’s jet to the Shamayim. Gabriel was bouncing on his heels at the airport, corn dogs in hand as he rushed to hug us. Michael smiled widely, staying back with a trestle for our luggage, which Gabe helped eagerly carry.

“Christmas! Christmas! Oh, the holly and the ivy! Brothers, WELCOME TO HEAVEN!” Gabriel sang, magicking a string of holly crowns from his pocket for me and Lucifer, placing them on our heads before we could protest.

“Thanks, Gabe,” I smiled. Lucifer winced. Some wounds were still fresh.

“I love it,” Lucifer said. “Greenery. A tree. The best gift Earth has to offer.”

“That’s what I always say,” Michael smiled, and we departed for their cabin.

There was much mirth, drinking, snow men, and aerial snowball fights to be had – and, of course, beer, alongside National Lampoon’s Christmas – at Michael and Gabriel’s cabin.

Christmas morning came around, and Michael handed us our presents.

I got his new whiskey – Copernicus. But Lu?

Lu got apple seeds

From his old Tree.

Lucifer, not able to help it, sank to his knees, and was wracked with sobs – heretofore forbidden from visiting his old Orchard of Life, though Eve and Michael always sent him updates and pics and logs on text, and had set up etheric cameras so my husband could watch his precious apple blossoms, squirrels, and deer.

I rushed to him.

Michael hugged him, and Gabriel did too. We all held him.

“I thought you could grow a new orchard, Lu,” Michael said kindly, proud. “We love you.”

I touched my necklace, pensive like Chao had been.

Would I need it, luck?

“I can really go to my old orchard?” Lucifer asked Eve and Michael as we ate in a little slice of Italian coast in Michael’s favorite harbor in the Shamayim – the one bit of pocket of summer in Gan Eden. Michelangelo spent his days here, carving immaculate sculptures that never even graced Italy in the 13th Century – he was Michael’s personal artist. I admired the sea naiads frolicking that towered over Heaven’s Gate above the Lake of Memories Michelangelo had carved, with fishermen hauling in the day’s catch below their giant embrace, and souls that chose old age as their favorite appearance ambling about with spaghetti, gelato, and art supplies (Michael taught still life classes, after all, and his was the Heaven of Artists. Also, the most idyllic retirement-style community for old souls at heart.)

Eve checked her iPhone – my secretary was quite happy to be free of my rotary phone and office attire – she was in a red checkered sundress, peach lipstick, and straw sunhat. Eve smiled tenderly, squeezing Lucifer’s pale, elegant hand. “Of course, Lu. Metatron doesn’t control everything – we just give him busy work. Christ and Michael are mostly in charge, just like you and Bee in Hell.”

I winced. “I hate him. Metatron, I mean. Such a fucking ass.”

Michael laughed softly. “And I think his feelings are mutual. You two are too set in your ways, Beelzebub. Stolid, conservative, obsessed with soul economics – inflexible. Unbending.”

“The solid wood breaks, the green wood bends,” Eve said. She loved to misquote the Tao Te Ching, fancied herself ‘spiritual.’ Usually, I thought it cute.

But now it irritated me. Her and Michael assuming everything was swell and easy.

“I loathe him too, admittedly,” Lucifer murmured, scrolling on Eve’s phone to view his favorite orchard sparkling in snow, winter berries ripe on bushes as cardinals, robins, and sparrows harvested the ripened red and seeds. “But I need to see my Garden.”

“Then bend,” Michael said kindly. “Nobody wants the Apocalypse, Lu.”

I smoothed Lucifer’s Italian linen shirt. He looked like Lestat, and I was Louis, my husband’s blond hair dangling in spirals, his sharp smile against fangs. I kissed his hand, and he kissed mine. Finally, we were in the Garden of Eden – Lucifer’s old estate and orchard, where he had planted the wine bushes of Baruch and apple trees of Knowledge and Life long ago.

We sat in a little awning, under an angel statue, snow ripe on the land, bundled up in pea coats and stomping black combat boots, black jeans on underneath. We liked to match our clothes.

“It’s like being home, Bee.” He cried softly, in joy, taking pictures of the animals and plants with his phone. “Eve said I could garden.”

“It is your Garden, Lu. And Lu?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Anywhere you are, is my home.”

We embraced, tended the bushes with clippers, cleaned the graves of the angels that had died in the War – it was a veteran’s cemetery park now, where mystical poppies bloomed in autumn when the veil between Immortality and Eternity was thinnest, and those of the Great Far Beyond could stretch their mysterious hands across the Void to nudge their brothers of times long forgotten, harvest hearts, and friendship.

For all of them – we remembered. Asmodeus, Moloch, Samael, Gabriel, Michael. Me and Lucifer. Even Metatron.

We did not let our fallen brothers fade, and Michael and Eve still tended Veteran’s Park – once the Garden of Eden – and led field trips of Heaven and Hell’s children to teach them why we should never

War

Again.

“Do you think it was worth it?” Lucifer said distantly, tone icy. He got the faraway look in his eye that meant his torment and past Harrowing was haunting him.

I leaned down and nestled my head in the crook of his shoulder, then kissed his neck, biting slightly – not enough to raise blood. He moaned, leaning into me as I stood behind him, and we threaded our hands across each other.

I turned him to me, reassuring – “What, Lu, my angel?”

He winced. “I am no angel, Baal.”

“To me, Attar, it does not matter. Angels, demons, gods. Who gives a fuck. You’re beautiful.” I kissed him, and we fell together like fire and ice, kissing, plucking, fucking – Eve had cleared the schedule and closed down Veteran’s Park to give us time together for an amorous escapade, as we had done in Lucifer’s Garden long ago.

When I was inside him, cock heavy with seed, Lucifer looked up to me and smiled, cried. He kissed me hungrily as I pumped, fucked, and worshipped him – sucking on his nipple, running my claws and mandible down his treasure trail and chest.

“It was worth it for this. Carnal delight.” He said in my embrace as I climaxed in time with him, panting.

“Hyup – what? Eve’s fruit? Giving humans souls, virility and fertility, giving them immortality? Ha – ha – ha. Fuck Lu, you’re beautiful -”

He silenced my moans with kisses, rolled me over so he, smaller and tender, was atop me, a golden dove on Lady Esclarmonde’s Cathar tomb in the French Alps. He began to sing, once Heaven’s lead vocalist, a tender B’shem HaShem. I cradled him, staring up at the snow falling from the cloudy sky.

It steamed on our naked flesh, the snowflakes, and I thought

That I

Could see G-d.

Elodie had asked me to be her birth doula, a perfumed, red wax sealed letter arriving from her summoning circle on my Hellopolis desk. I smiled at the picture she attached – her and her wife, Alicia, and Elodie pregnant through a donor. Her stomach was just beginning to show:

“Dearest Bee, my oldest friend,” the letter began: “I have found myself with a little Bug, as I was once your Brood. Please, do me the honor of being Godfather and birth doula of my beautiful daughter: Bailah. P.S. – I’m writing a novel about you.”

My eyes steamed with tears at my beautiful foster-daughter, the purple bee gem shining proudly on her brown breasts above a white sundress. It was summer, then winter, then summer again, and in time, my daughter had courted Alicia, married, and was now

With child.

“What a marvelous idea Elodie had,” Lucifer said happily as we ate at Tantalus’ Spoon, putting on Hedwig and the Angry Inch with my garage band later that night. I was dressed as Hedwig, black-white wig on, bustier attached under a sparkling net dress, pink go go boots and perfume.

We performed, and Samael and Lilith applauded the most of all. Eve and Adam sat at the back with their gaggles of children playing – basically four wedded parents to the Broods of Heaven and Hell.

“Brava, Bee!” Eve crowed, giving me flowers. Asmodeus smiled, lazing idly in Eligos’s arms. They poured me some wine, toasting me.

“To the garage band!” the Demon of Lust and Wrath said, his dark blond hair shining, and Eligos gave me a lei.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to wear Hawaiian shirts and shorts after the performance and we got out of the drag,” Lucifer sulked, dressed in a three-piece navy suit.

“Huh, well, I told you this morning,” I said, amused.

He undid his cufflinks, looking at the pineapples on my t-shirt. “Well, I was playing Baldur’s Gate and saving Karlach.”

“Ah.”

My meeting with Metatron was not going well.

Metatron’s gray hair and beard were brushed with fine oils, he looked like an old image of G-d. “Well, Bael. The taxes just won’t do. We need more capital gains tax on the markets of Hell.”

I grew icy, anger rankling my stomach. I gritted my teeth, arranging my manila folder of records. I took my elegant hands and turned to the graph showing bloating on the stock market in turn with the moves of more souls from Heaven to Hell: “Souls prefer, on average, the modern amenities of the Underworld, Enoch.”

“Heaven is austerity. Pure. We cannot modernize, we are pastoral, tourist-destination laden. It’s how we thrive, in tune with nature. If we raise the capital gains tax on expatriates, we can deal with the inflation.”

“And trample Hell’s stock market, yes? Fuck you sincerely, Enoch.”

He bit his lips, frowning. “My name is Metatron, oh Bael of Rot. I am the ascended prophet. I shed that name when I became the Lord of Hosts, Right Hand of G-d-“

“We all know your G-d is as much corpse as the Emperor of Warhammer 40k.”

“The fuck is that, Bael?”

“A – a tabletop game – oh fuck you Enoch, I do not agree to the trade!”

He cursed me out too, and soon we had drawn our swords, my katana against his broadsword, and were dueling as demon and angel. He pierced my flesh, I skinned his shoulder. Anger! Hatred! O Empire of Hell I must defend, against the swollen indolence of Heaven. I pummeled, toppled him, got him in a bloody Half Nelson, then kicked his shin in.

Metatron groaned, slumping. I wiped my hands off on my pants, then magicked away the mess – careful to let the blood show still in my triumph.

“Wait, help me, Bael – HACK. Is it – hack – really so bad for Hell to suffer in honor of the righteous Paradise, Heaven?”

I fixed my briefcase and put my hair back in a ponytail, my mandible tasting his fear on the air. “It would starve Hell’s lower classes, as I explained, Enoch. Do not test me again.”

Metatron, before I could react, ambled over and stabbed me though the back. It was my turn to slump to the floor. He took my briefcase in his angry hands, stormily threw my phone, Tareytons, Elodie’s invitation of miracles – to the Devil a Daughter – and stamped them under his flaming feet. He scowled at the burning invitation.

“Fuck, the letter, fuck you!” I couldn’t stand, could stand, up, fuck, barf, up, damn you, Enoch.

“I’m reporting you to Michael for this infraction. I know he and Eve hope we can stop the Apocalypse. I hope, for the sake of my sword through your cock and bladder, it happens, Fly.”

I grabbed the burning letter, but Metatron summoned Godsfire, and burned me to a husk, castigating me with every curse in the Bible. Psalmic ones, wrathful ones, an angel

Scorned.

I bled, burnt, and wept, thinking back to Elodie’s iron nail that made me feel utmost pain.

Even those that loved me

Hurt me.

(Gladly, Father G-d?)

Fuck

Metatron.

Elodie was waiting for me at a luxe Prenatal Yoga studio that Paris Hilton loved in Chelsea. We got lox bagels beforehand then went inside, my platinum hair bunched back in a messed, artful bun, my gray workout clothes on against my icy skin.

“Bee,” she hugged me. “Thanks for being my doula, and Bailah’s godfather.”

“Of course, Bug,” I said happily. My soul-bonded goddaughter was a fine, sparkling woman: her and her wife Alicia had started a wildlife action nonprofit that protected cloud forest in the Amazon, something she had fallen in love with on a volunteer trip. She was using her Nigerian heiress and Rockefeller money well.

Elodie’s brown eyes sparkled like black movie glass, and her lips were done up in a beautiful shade of plum paint. She was plump and pleasing, and I gently wiped some of the garlic cream cheese from her lip with my elegant handkerchief Abaddon had embroidered for me for my last birthday on April 21st. I forbid even Lucifer from celebrating, but everyone always insisted on tiny gifts.

Metatron’s anger haunted me, but I erased it from my mind, having told no one of yet another dangerous encounter with the blasted Voice of God.

I would not let him harm any of my humans, or my citizens.

Not even let Lucifer have a go at him.

Metatron: abrasive, testy, conniving. Me: plotting, quiet, conservative, fastidious. We were always like fire and oil, combusting. In truth, I craved I and Metatron’s weekly fights.

Blowing off steam is always, shall we say, pleasant.

“Breathe in, lower your pelvis, hold for five seconds, then push. Have your partner position you,” the yoga instructor said, a cute Asian woman with a whip of black hair and pink sports bra.

I helped Elodie into the position, my strong mind probing her uterus to Bailah’s soul: Bailah was joyful in the uterine fluid, her soul spark dancing in time with Elodie’s heartbeat.

There was nothing I loved more on Earth, Heaven, or Hell than children like Bailah and Hua!

“Thanks, Bee. You’re amazing,” Elodie smiled as we got cappuccinos afterwards. “Say, Bee, do you think, um, well… oh God, maybe I shouldn’t say it.”

She looked nervous, her face flinching. She toyed with her goddess braids. I steadied her hand in mine, squeezing.

“What is it, dove?”

She lowered her onyx eyes: “Well, erm, do you think I’ll be a good mother? As good a parent as you are to your soul-bond charges?”

I softened, remembering raising Asmodeus, Belial, Jophiel, and the other archangel-gods in Pagan Heaven – before the Angelic Gene Corruption, and we became angels – then some of us Fallen, hellbound.

“You’ll be a wonderful mother to an adamant daughter, Elle.”

I toasted her with my coffee silently, and Elodie smiled, and we

Drank

Deep.

“So, you’re basically having a daughter,” Samael smiled, eating a lemon meringue donut he had baked for me and Lucifer after inviting us over for a barbecue in honor of Lucifer’s birthday on the Winter Solstice. Almost a year had passed, and Elodie was due in a month. “That’s wonderful, Bee.”

“Yes, well, little Bailey – Bailah’s nickname - will be my goddaughter, technically,” I smiled, warmth flooding my bones and mandible. I carried around a miniature photo of her sonogram everywhere, took Elodie to all her appointments, cooked with Alicia in the kitchen every day to satisfy Elodie’s pregnancy cravings, was working on a set of wings for my little human angel –

And Lucifer was carving an oaken cradle.

Lucifer grinned, licking the lemon curd with his forked tongue – it got on his golden stubble: “I’ve never seen Bee this happy, Sam.”

“Oh, fuff! So much merriment, and I feel left out – Sammy stopped celebrating our births ages ago!” Lilith laughed, ribbing her husband. Her green eyes, olive skin, and black-purple curls under velvet horns and above ruby lips shone in the Tiffany lamplight like sin.

Samael ribbed her right back: “Lily, we have a brood of a hundred a day. And I cook you everything.”

“Heh.” Lilith licked some chocolate cookies she’d baked, then foisted them onto my husband. “Happy eleventy eleventh birthday, Lu.”

“Oh yes, you always insist on Eleventy Eleventh birthdays,” Samael laughed.

“It’s a nice tradition,” I said amenably, my husband and I, just like Samael and Lilith, Tolkien nerds. When we LARPed, Lilith was Eowyn and Samael was Elrond. Eve liked to be Galadriel, and Michael was Celeborn. Adam, well, took photos and handed out the weapons. I loved to be in Sauron armor I custom blacksmithed, but Lucifer was too lazy, and ordered Mulciber to forge his – he was more into woodwork.

We had broken our roleplay of Mairon and Melkor finally, out, in public…

“To Lucifer’s Eleventy Eleventh! I mean, uh, Melkor’s!” Lilith cheered, fixing us a round of espressos.

We all blew our party streamers, then Samael cut into a vanilla ice cream chocolate fudge cake.

We ate the leftovers later that night in our palace by the fireside, our new dog – Naberius – a hellhound par excellence, basking by the smoldering woodstove.

“This is fucking divine,” Lucifer said mid-bite.

“Good birthday?” I asked.

“They’re always wretched,” he sighed. “I hate growing old. I think I have wrinkles.”

“Lucifer, you’re immortally 24.”

“Pah.”

I held his face in mine, gazed intently at his flawless skin, then kissed his brow: “You’re a vain creature, Heylel ben Shachar.”

“And proud,” he said bitterly. “Hell needs more glory. Sometimes, I ache for my spear, to go toe-to-toe with Michael again. Say, you think he’ll at least spar me for some territory, some of Purgatory’s outskirts by the Cedar of Lebanon transplants? I could bribe Eve with more of my strawberry plants from our yard to make the arrangements-

“Chavah is my Secretary, not yours, Lucifer. Talk to Chao. If so, I’d have to fight Michael’s number two, the cotton candy fiend. The sugar high that archangel carries alone might make me drunk.”

“Gabriel oh Gabriel, blow your horn!” Lucifer laughed, then pounced on me. “No, Bee, if I am the most beautiful angel, then you are the most splendid demon.” We sank into each other like wine in a glass, and made love to each other’s

Hell.

The sparring match was arranged in a fortnight, and I almost missed it in case Elodie was going to break her water, but she still had two weeks left. Chao drank some Aquafina and was dressed in a pantsuit, and Eve was marking the ground in chalk, while Lilith, CEO of Hell’s Business Department, held an official List of Barter:

Michael flexed on the side, in golden armor. Gabriel was in silver, winking at us. I had my katana, Lucifer his spear… for shits and giggles, we were in our Silmarillion armor.

“Okay, up for negotiation is the Cedar Grove of Purgatory. Lucifer wants to garden in it, and says Michael is using the wrong manure.”

“He is,” Lucifer said solidly, brushing back his blonde cowlick, golden muscles twining: “It needs more phosphate.”

“I prefer less,” Michael opined, then lit a cigarette. “I yield nothing.”

“I claim everything,” Lucifer called. “Get in the fucking cage, Mike.”

“Sure thing, little brother.”

“I was first, twin.”

“But I’m taller.”

They laughed, then got in the ring. Chao set off the bell: “Testosterone-addled combatants, engage!”

Lucifer fell on Michael with swift fury, stabbing. Michael took his burning sword in a cutting motion and steel, ether, and spark met in blazing combustion, Lucifer’s swan feathers against Michael’s owl. Michael’s black hair and tan skin shone in the dusk of Heaven, a plum sky above as snow fell outside the facility in Gabriel’s riverine Sphere.

“I yield!” Michael said as Lucifer wedged his Satanic, Paradisiacal spear deep into the flesh of his left thigh, then wrestled Michael into a Half-Nelson. Michael’s gold blood spilled out, mixing with Lucifer’s silver. “Care to crush my head, brother?”

“That’s blasphemous,” my husband teased. “Alright, Mike – if Bee wins against your second, best two out of three, I get my trees.”

“Yes, well, they are still my trees as of now, brother.”

They shook hands, healed their wounds, then exited the ring to watch their husbands.

Gabriel and I’s match barely lasted five minutes – he was distracted by the cookies Chao had brought, and had a bulging belly of oatmeal chocolate chip.

“Sorreh,” Gabriel said to Michael, face stuffed again mid-seconds after the match.

Michael looked baffled: “Honey, why did you stuff your face before the match?” he hugged his husband Gabriel.

Gabriel choked on crumbs: “Hungreh.”

“Ah.”

Elodie’s water broke at five past midnight on Sunday, January 1st, 20XX.

When I held Bailah in my arms? All the suffering – of the Fall, of long hours poring over soul returns and property law at my desk, my fights with Metatron… even the old days when we had to carry out Father’s torture of souls, before he sunk, blind deaf and dumb, in an eternal metaphorical barrow?

All my Exile, my Fall?

Was worth it.

Bailah gazed up at us with newborn blue eyes, and I ran my fingers through her beautiful brown locks.

Elodie smiled, sweating, holding Alicia and Lucifer’s hands.

I set our baby Bailah upon Elodie’s beautiful brown breast to nurse, and picked out the baby dragonfly necklace I had spent nine months fashioning in my blacksmith studio, enchanted with a drop of me – Beelzebub’s – Fly blood to give them life:

“A gift of my soul to my goddaughter,” I said, weeping with tears of joy.

Elodie cried too, tired, ecstatic, and Lucifer smiled through tears.

I put the necklace on Bailah, settling it upon her tiny stardust flesh.

Like it, she shined.

Girl and Fly Out Drinking (Eve Interlude)

My boss Beelzebub was irked. He took his fountain pen and elegantly scrawled with his albino hands atop the morning’s ledgers: tax returns for Dis City, immigration papers, votes for the next Duke – all that was legal passed through the Prime Minister of Hell’s desk. But his mandibles under his icy platinum hair perked, tasting the air in disdain.

“Morning, Bee,” I winked, handing him his cappuccino. I took my flat white to my desk next to him. It read: “SECRETARY CHAVAH.”

“Morning, Eve. Darling – you’re late.”

I deflated, my strawberry blonde hair and freckles reflected in his Gucci glasses. Bee was in a Valentino dress casual outfit and gray slate Doc Martens with graffiti designs of little yellow lemons, a black streak in his long white hair. As usual, avant garde.

“Sorry, boss. Last night was hard. Adam spent forever going over the water main systems of Heaven’s Fourth District. And my rhubarb pie burned.”

Bee smiled, making a vermouth on the rocks – too early on Earth to imbibe, but it was always drinking hour at hand in Hell. He extended it to me as he poured a twin one for himself. “Sounds stressful, dear. Here, to soothe you. Fuck, these returns are taking forever. The Rent-An-Imp service Aym runs is operating on the black market – I need to deal with him.”

“Fucking Aym,” I smiled, clanking my glass with his. We worked in the belly of the Hellopolis, past Penemue’s Soul Return Department, past Samael’s Justice Department, even beyond Dumah’s Department of Hellgriculture, where he always put tacky redneck pictures of him riding his thunder dragons with AK-47s on the fucking hallway walls. Bee and I always joked about the idiotic pics. Trashy, tacky shit.

“Say, Beelzebub, you think the drudgery of office work in Heaven and Hell was G-d’s intention all along? Ineffable bureaucracy,” I mused.

“Hmm, I suppose a dog returns to its vomit.” Bee smiled slightly, half-moon glasses shining atop his austere cheekbones, like he was cut from ice. “Say, Eve. Let’s get dinner today. Lucifer says I should socialize more.”

I smiled, shaping my red painted nails into finger guns, then pretending to shoot him: “Attaboy, Bee! Getting out of the office and out of board meetings! I’d love to.”

The day passed in its usual fashion – President Lucifer’s speech, Prime Minister Beelzebub taking votes, the Dukes and Kings debating, Judge Samael presiding. Dumah even handed out beer cozies from him and his wife’s side hustle – black camo, eugh. All in all,  terrible day.

I found myself fumbling a Pilsner into a beer cozy as we waited for the 6:00 clock dismissal alarm to blare off when the President, Lucifer, pulled it – The Devil Bee’s husband and eternal burning flame.

My boss rose, fly wings and elegant architecture of his bones standing out in contrast under the harsh fluorescent lights – some fucking building code required the hideous flashers. I preferred soft incandescent, and Bee? He loved the Zenn Buddhist darkness of Yin.

Bee lit a Tareyton as he idly played with the light on his desk: ON/OFF, ON/OFF, ON/OFF – I drank each time he let his nervous habit happen.

“Hmm, maybe I could help Adam with the Heaven’s water main systems if you like, I need to sweat-

I tossed Bee a Corona, his favorite. “Beer, then dinner, boss. Beer and dinner. No busywork, you crazy Fly.”

“Ha.” There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “Right, Eve. Dinner. I could use a steak.”

We idled our way over to Positano on the Amalfi Coast, magicking our way across dimensions. The seabirds spanned a cerulean summer sky, and I got sea bass and pasta at Riviera, and Bee got his aforementioned steak.

“Fuck, it’s perfect,” Bee sighed, smiling, disguising his fly appendages. I had noetically magicked a green sundress and peach straw hat with a rose decal, gold slingback heels dangling from my tiny feet, and white tote bag slung to my side.

Bee lowered his shades, lit a Tareyton, and smiled. “Marriage is hard, ugh. Lucifer says he is doing well, but as the week grates on with this damn problem with Aym’s Rent-an-Imp black market deals… Lu thinks he’s going to have to use ‘Executive Perdition.’”

I froze in my spot. “On Aym? A demotion?”

Bee’s pale lips thinned – his strangely handsome, oddly angled face pursed. “Yes, well… I think it is necessary. Judgment and Punishment, and Efficiency and Passion, are the Laws of the Morningstar. And yet…?”

“And yet, Aym is one of your best friends.”

Bee smiled sorrowfully. “Yes. Thanks for listening, Eve.”

“No problem, boss. No problem. Don’t blame yourself Bee.”

“For what?”

“Any of it.”

“Aym is –

“The War. The Fall. I prefer Knowledge, after all.”

He smiled, genuinely – we all had ancient ghosts haunting us. Tenderly, Bee reached for my hand. I squeezed his, smiling.

“Hey, let’s get dessert,” I said.

“You’re a good friend, Eve. A lion among ladies.”

“And you’re a spider among flies, Baal.”

We walked off hand in hand, girl and her Fly, back to our husbands, back to the TV and domesticity, one in Heaven, one in Hell. We had a friendship that spanned Edenic generations.

Girl and Fly, out drinking.

[markerofthemidnight]

Do you know when the next part of the One-Winged Angel fic will be out? Its really good and I keep checking back similar to how if you keep checking the fridge every 5 minutes it will magically restock with more food 👉👈

Well, I’d be happy to answer!

Honestly… I’m not exactly sure when I can get it out. Honestly it’s, like, 60-80% finished depending on how long the end bit gets, so… I could mayyybe get it out by tomorrow if I pushed it but that’s assuming I can muster up the motivation.

I’m the kind of person who simply doesn’t operate according to schedules. I do things when I feel like it, and that’s the end of things. However, I’ll try my best to get myself back into the mood to write it again!

Here’s an itty-bitty preview to thank you for your patience:

***

Chapter 3 - Room 40

Lute awoke from uneasy dreams to find that her head was throbbing. It wasn’t as bad as it was last time she was awake, and her legs felt a lot better now- as well as her wing, though not by much- but it was still painful.

She got up, finding it surprisingly difficult to raise her head, as it had become mysteriously heavier than normal. When her hand reached to her head, she felt a familiar yet strangely different sensation: the horns of her mask.

Right, she never actually removed her helmet, did she? The face was knocked off, but she certainly still had it on by the time she tore off her wing….

When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a dim, expensive-looking room covered with mahogany furniture amidst scarlet wallpaper. She’d never seen a room like this in her life… but it reminded her of the lobby, the hotel lobby where she lost her wing.

Did that Sinner… take her to the hotel? No, no way: the hotel collapsed- very nearly with her inside. She couldn’t actually be there anymore: it was impossible.

As she thought hard looking for an answer, her hand grasped the mask’s horns again… and she felt something that made her stop in shock.

She felt her hair. Right next to one of the horns. Rough, dirty, probably stained with dry blood.

Her hair was feelable through the mask. But… how? The only was that was possible was if… if…

As she felt the horns one more time, she noticed that they felt… detailed. She could feel every tiny line from the keratin that made horns up: real horns, not fake ones.

…She had grown horns. Real horns.

Like a demon.

A monster.

A Fallen.

***

Now, of course, this preview takes up like… 10% of the chapter, at most. It’s also like… a quarter through, I think? The chapter actually opens with a surprisingly light-hearted scene with Charlie and Vaggie. Two fun facts:

The chapter’s title, Room 40, was naturally named after the number of Lute’s new room in the hotel. However that room, in turn, was named after the fact that 40 is apparently a biblical number associated with trials, change, and fresh starts. It’s why the Great Flood lasted 40 days.

The opening sentence of this scene was inspired by the opening sentence of Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis: “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” (that does not happen to lute here but at the same time the horns aren’t the only change she went through overnight… remember how much it was stressed in Chapter 2 that her legs weren’t feeling so good?)

And in case you’re wondering, no, my fics usually never have this much thought put into them.

I’ll see you when the next chapter comes out!

[princess-of-the-corner]

CC!NextGen

You said Unicorn kid, I HAVE A UNICORN KID, LET ME SHARE HER!!!!

Alice Quinn

Age: 15

Hair: White-Gold

Eyes: Solid Black

Height: 6'9" (at the moment)

Personality: Deadpan, stoic, calm. Seems completely relaxed, aloof, almost ethereal at all times. Actually a foul-mouthed snarker, who likes to play on people’s perception of the unicorn kid as sweet and innocent, so they don’t see the sucker punch coming. Has issues with people who don’t take their health seriously, and will go off if you try to do something while you are injured or sick. Actually great with kids, has a good bedside manner “But you shits rarely ever DESERVE IT, GET BACK IN BED, YOUR FUCKING LEG IS BROKEN!”

Hero Name: Alicorn (note: I know Alicorn now means a winged unicorn, but originally, “alicorn” was the name they gave powdered unicorn horn, the stuff that was supposed to be a miracle cure, get rid of poisons and shit)

Quirk: Unicorn (satyr version) - User has physiology similar to a Unicorn, cloven hoof feet, long tail with a tuft at the end. fingers Have last digit end in a claw, or keratin-like growth similar to a claw (weird note, but look at Alastor’s hands from Hazbin Hotel). Has a single spiral horn in the middle of the forehead. Face and ears are somewhat goat/deer like. Eyes large and solid black, cannot see the pupils, unless she is in a state of high and intense emotion, when the pupils will glow white, pupils are slit like a goats, horizontal. Has very long eyelashes. Body covered in short “fur”, which is longer around the ankles. User may or may not have wings.

User has healing/purification abilities. Horn glows when using these abilities. Purification abilities manifest as a silver cloud of sparkly dust, healing as a golden glow. Healing works by granting energy to cells in the body, encouraging them to heal. User has massive stores of energy with which to heal others, but said stores can be depleted. Purification works more generally, clearing the air or area filled with the silver “dust” of impurities. Can be used to fairly easily get rid of poisons or venoms. Can be used to get rid of viruses or infections, but it would take a lot of training.

Backstory: Ok, so, for me, I made up this whole story about how there’s this group that controls a lot of medical care for Japan in the MHAverse (in Japan, the Tenshi Group, internationally the Abbotts Angels) who are all a family of basically Angel Quirks. They have wings, horns that glow and look like halos, and healing abilities. And there’d be two factions of this family, one which was all about medical research and healing people, while the other was big on capitalism, and made people pay them big money to “heal” all sorts of things, like terminal diseases (which they can’t really do???). And faction two would try to frame it as “What if people take advantage of us?? We’re only thinking of the family!!!” which like, ok, being taken advantage of is a legit concern, but bitch, you are scamming people and charging stupid amounts of money to the poor, You are basically the American Healthcare System. And then this second faction would be all into family lineage and “purity” - like yeah, they’re mutation types, but the RIGHT KIND of mutation types, yeah? So they get real mad when one of their “heirs” or whatever has a fling with a random hero from the USA, the “Jersey Devil”, a guy with a “demonic” Quirk (goat-looking, ram horns, bat wings) and gets pregnant, and has a Unicorn looking kid. Now either A) Momma manages to hide the pregnancy enough, and put the kid up for adoption, or B), has the kid, and the family kind of raise her through proxy by a series of nannies, cause god FORBID anyone find out their line birthed THIS, but also they are pretty sure she’s going to have a healing Quirk, and THAT has to stay in the family.

(Do with this what you will)

I am totally on board with Pony/Kinoko. Koda … hmmmm (actually, I just remembered, Koda has a baby sister.) Ok give Koda a gentle giant husband, a big big man. A teddy bear grizzly. Huge man. Fluffy man. Also doesn’t talk much. He and Shoji are fighting for “Best Hugs”. He and Koda met … third year? Third year UA, he’s a transfer. They have … . give me a minute … 4 kids. They adopted a group of siblings that would have been separated if they didn’t step in. All of their kids are younger than most of the others - like, 4, 6, 7, 9 - so they aren’t at UA.

How’s that sound?

-

Honestly my plan for the unicorn baby was 100% ‘looks like an anthro Lady Amalthea but can and will say ‘fuck’.’

I think I can let you keep that backstory because as much as I love the drama I’m thinking this one’s simple. However that’s still fun because honestly I should swing over to the healer Quirks because YEAH those are highly wanted and it’s a miracle they’re not kidnapped more often.

As for Koda I’m loving the vibes but also again on the like. I feel like this should be hammered out more in the future. But also I /do/ agree that obvs not everyone is gonna meet their future spouse first day of high school so having him meet someone later works for me

[strivia]

⚜️

Alright y'all, it's the

Demon Ron AU

This one was a bit of a Rodie roleswap, but also not exactly. A lot of it was brainstormed with @thumperdaetime, hi thumps! 💖

In this AU Jodie is just one of the human dads, and he signs Ron's equivalent of the Battleaxe of Hatred, which is a harp guitar. When Ron first properly shows up and the party is worried, but he just acts cute and has useful information and seems to only want to flirt with Jodie.

"You really didn't define any terms here at all. That's just bad business. Anything could happen."

Anyway, Ron is the son of a powerful demon lord (Willy). But he doesn't fit Willy's ideal of what a demon should be: ruthless.

Ron's given name in this is actually Ragnvaldr, an Old Norse name composed of the elements reign meaning "advice, counsel" and valdr meaning "power, ruler"

But he chooses to go by Ron, which has the meaning "song, joy"

Oh also, Samantha and Terry Jr are from the Forgotten Realms in this AU and Ron meets Samantha because Terry Jr. summoned him in an attempt to get his dad back. Ron won't make a soul deal with a child, and talks to Samantha about it, and ends up staying to keep an eye out for any other dangers Terry might summon while he's working through this.

Willy doesn't initially care that he's gone until he realizes what he's up to. Willy is the one to imprison Ron in the harp guitar for "not being demon enough". Aka having a loving relationship with a mortal and choosing to help her raise a kid. After being imprisoned his memories are a bit scrambled, but he does want to get home to them too.

The harp guitar also has the potential to be very destructive, cause it's Willy going "No matter how soft you talk, this is what you are. You are made to take and destroy. You can't run from what you are."

Jodie may be the one who signed the guitar, but Glenn is the one who fucking loves it initially. Ron is not super lucid in the guitar but he feels loved and cared for and appreciated. Handled gently. Ron feels a lot of affection off the bat for Glenn.

I did write a little snippet for Ron getting out of the guitar. This is one of the rare AUs where I sibling-zone Glenn & Jodie:

Glenn yelped as fire split the center of the double necked harp guitar, dazzling up the strings like a sparkler on the 4th of July. "Just drop it!" Jodie hissed next to him, whacking his brother on the shoulder as his voice lilted up a few octaves. Glenn grimaced, but reluctantly dropped the beautifully crafted instrument. It was going up in flames anyway. The moment it clattered onto the hard stone ground it split into two with a loud pop, like logs on a fire. Fire flared outward in a magical pulse, but did little harm more then just flaring hot and biting across their skin. When the glare of light faded from their eyes, it was to a demon standing in the rubble of the fractured instrument. Or, Glenn assumed it was the demon. He was short. Shorter than Glenn anyway, and only a little shorter than Jodie, with cloven feet and arcing rounded horns on his head, like a ram. The man shook ash from his hair, flicking floppy, soft looking ears, and blinking eyes with goat-like pupils as he got his bearings. He touched his hands together, a look far too much like childish wonder sparking in his ember orange eyes as he realized he was tangible. And then his gaze drifted over to the two of them. "I- um, Hi, I'm Ron."

Willy is still a source of power to this settings Omega Daddies too, but as a patron.

There a scene vaguely planned where Ron tries to distract Willy during a confrontation, and one of his horns gets snapped after Willy flings him and he whacks really hard into something.

When he found him, Ron had tucked himself into a small alcove, like a wounded animal desperately hiding from a predator. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut, body trembling. Glenn sucked in a sharp breath. His right horn was broken, a jagged edge of keratin where it was supposed to arc back around. The area was matted with blood, slicking that side of his head in a sickly sheen. "Shit," Glenn hissed. Ron cringed away from his voice, a soft keening noise of pain and desperation escaping him as he tried to burrow further into his earthen hiding place. "Hey, it's okay," Glenn intoned, trying to soften his tone of voice. He needed Jodie or Henry, he needed someone who could heal properly. "Shhhh," Glenn soothed, running his thumb along Ron's soft ear. A softer whine escaped Ron, one more sad and pleading, as opposed to scared. "Nobody is gonna hurt you," Glenn promised softly. He started to hum gently to the demon, who sank more heavily into his touch.

Anyway, uh yeah. Enjoy dear anon. 😂

[mephsation]

Hello,

my sisters reading your alien fanfiction and she updates me minutely on every new detail on this mans body. No bellybutton? No nails? Red skin?? The three bumps, the chip, etc. Im so curious about what your vision on this was. What made you think of this? Was it for lols or is this just your mind palace's vision? ALSO. EVEN MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION IVE BEEN PONDERING THE PAST HOUR.... what colour is alien shanes hair. Because we've been debating it and I've been thinking blonde because its funny and my sister refuses vehemently.

(P.S. i am not judging, i love the vision sm, i just have so many questions.)

With love, anonymous

Hello!

My main thought was to make him look vaguely like a demon, but alien. That's where most of the features come from. And I thought it'd be interesting if aliens just didn't have keratin. In my head, I just always assumed he had his regular hair color, but if you want to think of it as actually blonde, go for it.

Thanks for asking! (I had almost forgotten about that fic)

[toa-kirhan]

First time watching ToH S2E9 (Eclipse Lake). Thoughts below:

Detailed thoughts:

I watched the episode a little while ago, so pardon if my analysis up here isn’t as in-depth.

This episode pairs Amity, one of the series’ former antagonists, w/ Hunter, one of the current antagonists, w/ the two of them on separate stages of reform. While Amity has come to terms w/ how she used to treat others and has learned to step up to the people controlling her, her parents, Hunter is still loyal to Belos, though his conversations w/ Amity and sheltering of the cardinal Palisman shows that might start to change.

Like Amity, Belos controls Hunter’s life through expectations and fear: Hunter feels that he needs to prove himself to Belos, that he has to earn his approval by meeting his expectations and going above and beyond to make up for past mistakes or else face reprisals or outright dismissal if he fails to live up to them.

Hunter is able to leverage that shared trauma to convince Amity that Luz’s message to her is a threat. Although, it is also possible that Hunter genuinely believes that Luz was threatening Amity and can’t recognize a genuine loving and affectionate relationship. That would make sense considering that Hunter was raised in the Emperor’s Castle w/ Belos as his only family who has constantly framed Hunter’s purpose and relation to him as a tool for him to enact the Titan’s will.

This episode also gives us a look at Belos w/o his mask. Seeing Belos’ face makes it clear that Belos wears his mask to maintain his image of power and strength to his subjects as the marks from his curse would detract from that (assuming that they don’t disappear after he absorbs the magic from other people’s Palismen).

Belos has a very interesting appearance. In addition to the aforementioned curse marks (green discoloration w/ black holes or spots on his skin), he also has a notch on his ear like Hunter, natural blue eyes (the default color that shows through his mask), and a wrinkled mouth that conveys his age. The notched ears are particularly concerning since it brings to mind tracking livestock. What did happen to Belos and Hunter’s family?

According to Belos, he has been to the Human Realm before, which helps explain why he plans on uniting it w/ the Demon Realms given his glowing review of it. Though, that fact does raise the questions of why, how, and when Belos ended up in the Human Realm before returning to the Demon Realms. Presumably, the answer has something to do w/ Wittebane since Belos knew about the portal door he created and has its blueprints.

Now Belos has the recreated portal door, enough magic bile(?) to power it, and the original key w/ some of its Titan’s Blood left in it. Although he might need more to create a new key or repair the old one, Belos is very close to his goal. Will he still wait for the actual Day of Unity once everything’s in place? Or will he jump the gun?

General thoughts:

Another episode picking up w/ Belos at the start. We’re only half-way through the season, but things feel like they’re ramping up.

Belos has blueprints for the portal key and notes for something called a Grimwalker, which requires Galdorstone, Palistrom wood, Stonesleeper lungs, Selkidomus scales, and Bone of Ortet. The first two are also labeled heart & power and keratin, respectively.

There is also a diagram of eyes and a diagram of a developing child, possibly the Grimwalker? Does the Grimwalker have something to do w/ the fake Luz in the Human Realm?

So are all the pipes are to channel Bile/Titan’s Blood from the heart into the portal? Why does Belos need magic for the Day of Unity too? As part of the binding/ fusion process b/w realms?

We get to see part of Belos’ face! I’m pretty sure we’ve seen his hair before, but not his face.

Belos has been to the Human Realm? Did it involve Wittebane? When Belos talks about it he sorta sounds like him.

Amity’s taking charge of the Owl House!

Ghost! Amity’s Palisman is a cat!

“Lofi beats to study and relax to”, you say?

Eda’s trying to turn to her harpy form again.

Dragonclaw Z! Eda watched it in theaters? In the Human Realm?

Amity summoned a little abomination to take care of Luz. c:

Amity’s going to lose the key to Belos.

Amity and Luz have a little communicator? PDA? Whatever you’d call it?

So the Titan still has veins w/ blood coursing through them (explains the heart in Belos’ throne room), but just a little blood can make a portal too?

Eclipse Lake? That’s the episode title!

Amity is really taking being Luz’s girlfriend seriously.

I like Kikimora’s earmuffs.

Steve makes his grand, offscreen, appearance!

So Hunter knows the Blights? Makes sense since they’re a prominent weapons manufacturer and probably have a seat on the council. (E: forgot that he was the one that told them Belos’ order about the Abomitons!)

So Titan’s Blood itself is also a powerful source of magic? Does the magic of the Boiling Isles specifically come from its blood?

So the veins of the Titan aren’t literal? They’re just solidified Titan’s Blood?

Whale song or K-Hop? Hmm...

“A bad but sad boy.”

Kikimora’s really lost it.

Fool’s Blood.

I love the Abomiton minecarts.

Aw, Owlbert’s got another scratch. :c

OH NO! He’s squawking! ;-;

Oh, Eclipse Lake’s dried up.

How did Luz expect anyone to understand that?

OH NO THE KEY’S STICKING OUT OF HER COAT!

AMITY’S TOP OF CLASS FOR A REASON!

So they both have a few drops of Titan’s Blood now.

[ann-light]

My best March 8th💐

My friend invited me to her home in Yaroslavl. 🏡

The girl I met in Karelia and I went by car in this city all evening after work. Our trip by car was exiting and interesting. We talked about films, books and travelling. After three-hour the girl and I became closer. “What versatile girl” - I thought. And we became friends. 👯‍♂️

We arrived at night.🌚 On the next day one of my friend made city tour by car for us. Unfortunately, the weather was windy, cold and snowy therefore we couldn’t walk. But… we could see a small part of the city through window of the car. 🚗 It was good too. ☺️ In the evening we sang in karaoke different old songs, played board games and drunk tasty tinctures.🥂 It was fun 🤩 That day I understood that I liked to sing 🎤

On the next day in the morning I made keratin for my hair. This was the first time. Now my hair is shiny and perfect. 👩‍🦳 In the evening we went to spa. 🧖‍♀️ It was amazing 😻 We ordered spa area somewhere in the forest and enjoyed time spending there. There were 3 zone: sauna, a barrel looks like torture chamber and a barrel outside. We evaporated all our demons 👹😅 Also we drunk juice, ate nuts, listened to music and discussed various stuffs. We were really relax and got enormous pleasure. After we went to the bar and drunk tinctures.🙃

We returned back by car too. During our trip we shared emotions and impressions from our recreation. 🗣️🙊

Conclusion: I relaxed 🎈, got new friend👯‍♀️ , made beautiful hair💁🏼‍♀️ and fell in love in karaoke.🎤

It was the best 8th of march in my life. Real women’s holiday 💜