#carmine the bloodshed

[queenofcandynsoda]

Carmine the Bloodshed

(Thank you @jknerd~)

TW; Self-harm

Carmine the Bloodshed

Other Names: Carmine the Bloodshed (カーマイン・の・さっしょう Chimamire no Carumin), The Psycho’s Son, The Red Devil, Carmine Spini, R-O-001

Age: 7

Affiliation: Deepground; Shinra Electric Power Company (Formerly), Weiss’ Army

Occupation: Child Soldier, Sniper, Assassin (trainee)

Residence: Deepground Offspring Nursery (formerly), None/Nomadic (currently)

Family: Rosso the Crimson (mother), Cerise (younger sister), Eerie (younger sister), Cordovan and Maroon (younger twin brothers), Jasper (younger brother), Peach (youngest sister), Madder (younger brother), Cardinal (younger brother), Chili (youngest brother), The Restrictor (biological father)

Abilities: Firearm Proficiency (Rifle, Sniper Rifle, Shotgun, Handgun, Assault Rifle), Supernatural Gunmanship (Supernatural Accuracy, Supernatural Reflexes, Supernatural Dexterity, Quick Draw), Glowing Eyes, Knife Proficiency (Switchblade, Razor, Scalpel, Clever, Kitchen Knife), Superior Human Physiology (Flash Step, Supernatural Stealth, Afterimage Creation, Bulletproof Durability, Self-Sustenance, Disease Resistance, Enhanced Intelligence, Supernatural Strength, Healing Coma [after blood loss], Mental Regeneration), Blood Manipulation (Bleeding Inducement, Flammable Blood, Corrosive Blood, Haemokinetic Combat, Blood Bullets), Adaptive Regeneration [after MANY attempts to euthanize him] (Acid Immunity, Poison/Venom Immunity, Water Immunity, Fire Immunity, Explosion Immunity, Blunt Force Immunity, Cutting Immunity), Feign Death, Supernatural Cells, Killing Mastery, Killing Instinct (reluctant), Anatomical Mastery, Weakness Detection, Humanity Retainment, Indomitable Loyalty (to his mother and Weiss), Mathematics Mastery (Geometry, Shatterpoint, Numerical Precision, Calculation, Ricochet), Temporal Sense, Combat Adaptation

Likes: His family, Freedom, Daylight, Collecting souvenirs, Girl-in-the-Picture (Vermillion), Guns, Hot Chocolate, Burgers, Pizzas, Loyalty to Weiss, Target Practice

Dislikes: THE RESTRICTOR, Shinra Company, Professor Hojo, Doctor Fiorenzo Rosales, His Murderous Thoughts, Being controlled, Intense Training, Greedy People, Spoiled Brats

Origins: Carmine is a member of the Off-Color Tsviets and the first son and child of Rosso the Crimson. His biological father is the Restrictor, the cruel overseer of Deepground. From birth, Carmine was forced to train to be the most effective killer that could surpass his mother’s abilities. His body has been pushed beyond its limits to the point it is a wonder how Carmine lived past the age of five. After his birth, his mother attempted to hide him but he was quickly taken away and placed in the Offspring Nursery. Since then, he was subjected to torturous experiments as Rosso gave birth to his siblings due to her body being modified to be pregnant for three months. The mother and son would communicate at every opportunity, even having the chance to see his younger siblings. 

Due to the brutal experience he suffered, Carmine has become mentally unstable. He has become hostile to “Shinrites,” meaning people who work for Shinra”, and would aim his rifle at them, believing they intend harm regardless. He tends to be vulgar whenever he feels defensive, especially when it comes to his siblings and mother. This would also lead to profanity and threats of violence. 

Despite these frightening traits, he does his best to create and maintain his humanity. He would make himself bleed daily to remind himself that he is still a living person, not a weapon. Carmine had developed a reputation for trying to escape since he was about four years old. His common method is to use the air vent. This led him to enter various places in the Shinra Tower, such as the Materia Research Facility, SOLDIER Floor, Visual Entertainment Hall, the President’s Office, executives' offices, Hojo's laboratory, and the Skyview Hall, his favorite place. He would collect items, such as office supplies, Shinra/SOLDIER merch, souvenirs, and human teeth from Hojo’s lab. He also managed to collect Lazard’s pens, the Turks’ weapons, Palmer’s luxury eating utensils, Heidegger’s medals, Hojo’s lab equipment, Scarlet’s picture of her daughter, Vermillion, Rochelle’s makeup, Rufus’ coins and shotgun bullets, Junio’s handbags, and President Shinra’s car keys to one of his sports cars. He would then give most of them to the other children in Deepground, such as his siblings and his peers like Fuchsia. There are even times that he took jewelry and fur coats to Rosso in secret. 

When Sonon and Yuffie got captured, Carmine was one of the first to interact with the former. Though their first interaction was brief, the ninja intrigued the young boy. Once they get to meet more formally, Sonon is assigned to fight him, later, he tells him about the “Outside”. Sonon said how Wutai was a great nation before Shinra ruined it and that there was so much freedom. Carmine was amazed by this and would repeat it to the other children. 

Once Yuffie becomes pregnant, Carmine overhears conversations about a potential dissection of the baby, which would lead to its death as they are deemed “disposable”. The boy immediately told Sonon, who then told Nero, Weiss, and Yuffie. The Pure White Emperor then created an escape plan that would lead them into Wutai. Days later, Carmine hit his head hard enough that he got a concussion during training. In the infirmary, when Shelke is assisting in examining him with the doctors, she discovers that Carmine's “obedience” chip has been destroyed. This allows him to go against the Restrictor and gain free will. From there, Weiss sees him as essential to the escape. Soon after, Weiss secretly told the young boy how he could help. 

There are three tasks he needs to do once he escapes;

Seek out Viceroy Sarruf for Weiss to remove him from power for the Kisaragi Family to reclaim control over Wutai

Search for Wutai’s materia, especially the Leviathan materia

Return to help with the breakout once he gets Shelke’s message 

As a way to escape, Carmine forced his body into “Bleeding Sleep” to give the appearance of being dead as blood came out of his mouth and his heart stopped. Several Deepground children, including some of his siblings, pretend to mourn for him. The Restrictor, disgusted by Carmine’s “corpse”, threw him away in the trash truck. Carmine uses “Bleeding Sleep” long enough to wake himself and crawl out of the trash. He looks out of the trash truck to see the sun for the first time, amazed by the sight of freedom. Using this as an opportunity, he jumped out and headed to the nearest town outside of Midgar, Kalm. From there, he learns more about 

Along with getting a red hoodie, black pants, and slightly ragged white sneakers, he also gets a small rifle and stolen materia for any self-defense. 

Now, with all of his equipment, Carmine hopes to complete his tasks to ensure the escape from Deepground and the rescue of his family. As he travels, he learns to become more human and gain experience. 

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Your dragon, he remembers. The leader of Onychinus, you know. A man so violent who really just stayed the same as the one who pledged his essence to you.

Warnings: Canonical violence from Sylus. Lowkey angst?

Authors note: My first fanfic! Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

The leader of Onychinus is not a soft man. If he could even be considered a man, at all. You know it from the whispers in darkened alleys and words carelessly slipping past loose lips. A monster; ruthless and irredeemable. His past sins leave a trail of a bloodstained legacy in his relentless pursuit of something to satiate his insatiable hunger. Unparalleled power, still greedy for the unattainable. For more than what he can have.

Is he forced to be this way? When he turns his back on you, all you see is the broad shoulders of a confident man. Always self-assured. Perhaps not trustworthy but reliable, dependable. He is reckless yet cunning and no one could ever doubt that he has plans, backups, contingency plans. Luck and fate never stood a chance against someone who defies the gods.

The leader of Onychinus will never be a soft man. Not if he continues to choose bloodshed. Not when he never hesitates to crush his enemies with such cruelty befitting his nickname “monster”. Black-red tendrils of his evol strangling, and he watches the life and warmth drain from their bodies. Just like when he wrapped his palm around your throat— they couldn't scream, and neither could you.

So you wonder who this is. The man who is almost soft. You see it in the way he treats his weapons— anything in his disposal is well-maintained. There is almost a reverence to how he polishes his guns, scrutinizing gaze to catch the glint of light upon the barrel. Does the gunmetal reflect his eyes, crimson as the hearts he will put a bullet through?

Sylus is, despite the devastation he brings, a soft man. Anyone could tell if they simply looked close enough when you are around. Carmine eyes become pools of love, a fondness for you that overflows and it sickens the heartless men and women of his territory. One hand pulling you close by the waist; mine, a warning. He sweeps you into an intimate waltz of unhinged savagery and melodic symphonies.

Sylus, has always known that he is a soft man. And only for you. He presses your palm to his chest, erratic heartbeat and warmth exuding from his skin onto yours. It is thrilling and terrifying. Whispers of his unadulterated adoration for you without shame, knowing he could never be the same as he once was without you. How could he, when you are the one he has been searching for all his life? You were never going to be free now that he has you again.

You are his gem; his heart embedded into his skin in a lifetime you do not recall. Exposed and so very vulnerable— the Achilles heel of his armour on display for the masses to see. So he will keep you close and shelter the hairline cracks of both your souls within bloodstained hands. You are his heart, a gem so incredibly precious. But even rubies can shatter by the hands of others, and he will not allow that to happen to you in this lifetime.

[bunnyinfoxclothing]

Obedient Exorcists Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | (you are here) | It will arrive

If you thought it was angsty before. Hahahaha

---------

She had hoped that if she reached the hotel before Charlie, she could get all the weapons setting inside, send the Carmine workers on their way, then find a way to hide her wings.

Truth be told. In the deep folds of her brain, she had known hiding her wings wouldn't be possible. And even deeper still, she was prepared to take her spear to them.

She wasn't living with Charlie anymore anyway. She had hidden being an angel for years. She could hide a back injury for a few weeks.

But the two women arrived at the same time. And Vaggie stood there unsure how to proceed.

She had written thousands of apologies notes during her time alone. None of them were good enough. She wasn't good enough. Charlie probably couldn't even look at her.

Vaggie was prepared to say an apology. A simple sorry. Something that Charlie had preached since the beginning of the hotel. Then she would take care of the Carmines and leave Charlie to settle in the cannibals.

Then Charlie pulls out the shrunken head.

And everything changes.

It's a perfect mix of the two of them. The red circle cheeks. The purple skin. The permanent smile. The red bow.

It was what Vaggie imagined their children would look like. Except less shrunken, sewn, and hopefully dead. (if it so much as twitched Vaggie doesn't think she will ever sleep again.)

Vaggie finds herself tucked into Charlie arms and everything feels fine again. They walk into the hotel and their friends haven't let them. Vaggie packs away the weapons and shakes hands with Carmilla's girls with a promise that she will return again. Then returns to help Charlie check in the cannibals.

The lobby is alight in so much activity it is blinding. There are so many people talking and enjoying the hotel. Husk has brought out his bartending moves and began mixing drinks like a true entertainer. Angel not far behind, with his flirting with husk, becoming a bit of a show for onlookers.

Nifty zipped through the crowd ensuring she was the only tripping hazard around. Even Alastor seemed to be enjoying the space, talking with his overlord friend.

And Charlie.

Charlie had stars in her eyes. Wetness peaking just at the corners. And the biggest smile that Vaggie had ever seen. (bigger than anything she had been able to produce)

Vaggie knew why.

She could see it.

This was Charlies dream. A hotel so full of people all of them united, and not trying to kill each other. It wasn't far off from her dream of redeeming mass amounts of sinners. This was a sneak peak into Charlie's dream. Fully realized.

Fully accomplished.

And she had done it on her own.

Charlie brought the cannibals.

Charlie wanted Alastor, and got Husk and Nifty as an addition.

Charlie wanted Angel and Sir Pentious.

Charlie had made all of this possible for herself.

Vaggie brought weapons.

Vaggie brought violence and bloodshed and the death of thousands who could have been saved.

Charlie retires before Vaggie, going to her room, getting some rest. Offering Vaggie only a smile from across the room as she heads upstairs.

Vaggie, not having been invited, stays.

While checking in cannibals, Charlie had never asked her to return the room key. Nobody was logged into the logbook for that room, not even her. And yet there wasn't a single question.

So, when everything is over and everyone has gone to bed, she heads to her own room.

Suddenly, nothing is fixed. The keychain in her pocket. The item representing her and Charlie's relationship feels like a noose. A message signed with the picture of a guillotine.

Vaggie can only empty her stomach.

She washes up and with a pain in her heart and gut, she goes to bed.

When she wakes up, she decides it's best to take a flight. She hopes a stretch will help sooth the pain that had come from sleeping on her back.

Her wings are weak. They barely get her to the roof before her lungs are puffing with exhaustion.

It's quiet on the roof.

Just like it always has been.

It's nothing like flying. It's nothing like heaven. It's nothing like anything.

And for Vaggie that's okay.

She enjoys the wind, even if it is humid heat against her face. She enjoys the view. Sinner on sinner crime at the break of dawn. Even though the crime had never ended to begin with.

The blood curdling screams make her wonder, if she screams would anyone hear? She hopes no. She could find herself a nice alleyway and scream her head off. Curse herself for every having existed. For ever falling in someones way.

For ever tainting Charlie's dreams with her face. For ever tainting heaven with her creation. She was proof that not everyone can be forgiven. Not everyone is worth redemption. She was proof that God made mistakes. That not all of his creations were loved.

She was the flaw in every plan.

Charlie finds her on the roof and all thoughts stop.

"How long have you been up here? You never came to bed... at least I don't think you did... did you? i'm sorry."

Vaggie is left reeling. What could Charlie ever have to apologize for? Did she miss something? Did Charlie want her to come to her room? Did Charlie want to talk to her about something? Did Vaggie accidentally ignore her?

Vaggie considers how to respond. How to tell Charlie she didn't know she was allowed to see Charlie again.

But Charlie is already onto a different topic. She talks about how great it is to have so many bodies in the hotel. She talks about the Carmine weapons, and the overlords kindness.

She talks about the sky, how nice Hell looks outside. And that's when Vaggie's traitorous mouth finds the words it was looking for ages ago.

"I fell asleep."

Charlie, of course, looks absolutely confused. Then assumes Vaggie meant last night and launches into an entire apology about the cannibals and how impolite it was not to ask anyone if they were comfortable sharing a roof together.

Guilt twists in Vaggie's chest. She had lied to Charlie again. It wasn't on purpose, but she didn't correct her.

Still Vaggie steels herself for tonight, where she assumes she and Charlie will finally talk.

The day goes by with Charlie attempting to see if any of the cannibals would even think about joining them full time. And no she does not mean the staff. All while Vaggie sets about getting everyone their own weapons.

It was nice having a menial task to do. No emotions. Nothing deep to think about. Just logic, and war.

This is what she was built for.

She makes incredible progress, only getting a select few weapons returned with the suggestion to make them special order.

Apparently too many people heard her with the Carmine girls and decided that she would be the perfect 'currier pigeon' for their weapon needs.

She tries not to be offended by the new nicknames.

pigeon

hot wings

feathers

bird brain

They all seemed to revolve around her new appendages.

A part of her missed the lewd renditions of her name Angel used to throw her way.

She gave everyone a quick safety brief on angelic weapons before deciding to end the day early. She would go to the Carmines with the requests in the morning.

Charlie took her by the hand and brought her to her room. A room they once shared.

She felt a bit of warmth seeing her stuff, still in its rightful places. She let a hand caress a few trinkets. Gifts from Charlie from their earlier stages of dating all til...

She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out the shrunken head from yesterday. It felt wrong to carry it now. So she placed it amongst her collection.

A hand snaked it's way around her waist and she was pulled flush against Charlie.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Charlie continued on. Listing every little aspect of Vaggie she missed. Her scent. Her warmth. Her smile and smirks. Her sarcastic jokes. Her protective aura. Her loving kisses. Her eye that was only ever soft when gazing upon her.

Charlie let herself ramble on and on while holding Vaggie.

Vaggie felt nothing.

Vaggie felt less than nothing.

And that made her feel guilty.

All while Charlie continued to sing her praises, Vaggie could only feel the pressure on her wings, which quickly morphed into irritation the longer Charlie persisted.

She thought to Charlie's last few wishes. To be left alone. To have her sent off to the Carmines.

The look on Charlies face had been so empty. So full of hate that she had been willing to die for the girl in front of her.

Yet, this moment directly contrasted all of that.

Vaggie felt angry.

and that made her feel guilty.

Charlie had saved her life. Charlie had given her a purpose. A reason to live. If Charlie wanted to change the rules and orders she had previously set, then that was fine.

Charlie started slow, taking Vaggie's clothes off piece by piece.

It wasn't sexual, Vaggie knew when Charlie wanted more from a night together, even their gentle nights weren't like this. This was a sensual whisper of 'I missed you'.

This was I want skin on skin contact.

This was the closeness of a baby just after birth. When skin contact was vital for helping regulate temperature, heartbeat, breathing and connection.

This felt like life or death.

But only to Vaggie.

Charlie continued to whisper all the aspects she loved about Vaggie, moving from physical features to personality traits, to weird quirks.

Vaggie felt naked and scared. The words washed over her, but nothing soaked through. Her heart rate increased as she began to panic.

The closeness felt suffocating.

She should tell Charlie to stop. That she wasn't ready for any amount of emotional or physical closeness yet.

But the rules were changing.

Charlie was deciding which rules stuck. What if she no longer wanted Vaggie thoughts or opinions? She had filled the hotel on her own. Vaggie's opinion wasn't worth much anyway.

What if this was a couple clearing of the board? No rules no orders.

When Charlie brought her to bed, she finally seemed to notice the heart hammering against Vaggie's chest.

"Shhhh. It's okay, we're not doing anything tonight. You can relax. Tell me what's wrong."

Vaggie opened her mouth but nothing came out. It was an order. To tell her what was wrong. But did Charlie want the truth? Did she want half truth sounding board Vaggie? Did she want the softened words of girlfriend Vaggie? Did she want the rough uncaring truth of first found Vaggie?

The safest option was to ask.

"What do you want me to say?"

There were a few seconds of silence. Vaggie looked up to see a confused and slightly hurt look on Charlie's face. She had chosen wrong.

"The truth? Always the truth. Please, I can't- don't- don't lie to me again."

Vaggie nodded. Going with the most honest answer she could come up with.

"I don't know."

She doesn't know what's wrong. She doesn't know why she's bad at obeying. She doesn't know what the rules are anymore. She doesn't know what Charlie wants from her. She doesn't know why she feels suffocated in the arms of someone she once never wanted to leave. She doesn't know what's wrong with her.

Charlie sighs. She's disappointed in Vaggie again.

We can talk more about it after the battle.

There's a time limit now. Vaggie can feel it. She used to be so good at being hotel manager. She used to be so good at commanding respect. She used to be so good at being Charlie girlfriend.

Since they visited heaven she has done nothing but fail at all of these.

And now...

her and Charlie are over.

Vaggie doesn't sleep. Vaggie doesn't cry. Vaggie doesn't even think. Vaggie lays there and listens to Charlie quiet snores and lets herself get pulled into tighter snuggles. Vaggie ignores the burning in her back as her wings scream out. Vaggie doesn't do anything.

The arms around her body won't let her.

[neciebee]

I'm sorry I've been absent for a while, so here's a copy paste from my brain when it was addled but not broken.

Azriel's spectrum

Azriel's shadows show more than facts. Their wavelengths communicate feelings that he has trouble translating for the Inner Circle. Although his family can sometimes observe his shadows as an absence of light, he can communicate with them as if they were characters in a cartoon of his daily life. Despondent over this inability to merge his two worlds, he tries to anthropomorphise his loudest contributors.

~

He himself is cobalt. His strength and potency radiates from his siphons. He has his brute strength, he has his wings, but his most defining feature has been the pure killing power he channels through his siphons. The secrets of his shadows is his own private universe. He may share his cobalt with his family, but the shades are his own.

Rhys is indigo. He has been in his mind. He has seen his fears. Nothing can come between him and his brother, as all agonises are shared. Indigo is a deep, long representation of his own blue. It's darker, more harmful, more sinister. Rhys has a power no other can match, but currently, so does Azriel.

Cassian is carmine. Many have died for this colour. There has been so much suffering to attain this hue. Despite cutting down eons of victims, Cass has retained his vibrancy and vividness throughout his centuries of murder. That he is the Lord of Bloodshed cements his affinity to this colour. Red flows when Cassian is at his peak.

Feyre is mauve. She is delicate but perseverant. Although many colours seek to dull her shine, the blend of the many often attains the hue of their High Lady. She can be soft. She can be deep. But most of all, she welcomes the ones she loves.

Mor is burgundy. Wine. Falsehoods. Deception. Intoxication. Imitation. Lies. Do not trust her. Unless she was raised in the French Province of Burgundy. She is the distillation of downfall unless she is appropriately stored within strong oak barrels. If you and she are amenable, limited exposure to her may be freeing and will bring ecstacy. More likely than not, you will lose your inhibitions and do something you regret.

Elain is lilac. Floral and unobtrusive. She's everywhere and nowhere at once. You might not sense her, but her influence is pervasive. She might just be a shadow in the corner of your eye and you'll forget she's there, but she's there more often than you remember. Her scent may influence your subconscious. If she wants to affect you, either she sees a future where that would be beneficial, or it would lead to her developing powers or mateship. She is thirsty without letting anyone know about it.

Nesta is silver. Shiny and more valuable than her weight. She can be a rough ingot who cares little about how you shape her, or the most delicate filigree your most talented artisans know not how to design. Her value is strongest in what she could become, given the appropriate direction. Conductive and infinitely shapable, she has the power to topple Kings and forge new leaders.

Mother is storm cloud grey. Do not trust her. Do not love her. She brought the power to your primordial soup but she could not maintain your safety. Only through the culling of her weakest progeny could she bring forth your perfect mate. She loves you, but until she bonds with her mate, she cannot help you.

Amren is granite. Hard and unyielding, Amren can direct the flow of waters. Your river may be convoluted and hard to navigate, but all the twists and turns she guides you through are necessary to spill into the fertile delta of your court. She can see where you deviate, but will also know how to guide you along the correct path. Don't trust her, but look where her direction will take you.

Lucien is peach. He is such a sweet soul, especially having survived through so much hardship. There is a hard stone at his centre that no teeth could bite through. The colour is strong and pervasive, showing up in so many situations without dilution, but accommodating itself into the palette of the moment.

Eris is an intense orange, with tangerine undertones and mango highlights. It's a twist of warm, Autumn colours, so complex that he could spend years wallowing in its description. There's flecks of gold, connoting richness, and smears of sunny lemon, suggesting brightness. There are wisps of cocoa and coffee raising away from his pupils, indicating a sweet bitterness that could be soothed by his rich cream and sweet honey. Rings of amber encase their centuries of history. Hints of whisky and bourbon indicate how intoxicating this Fae was to him.

No, Azriel didn't think about Eris at all.

~

It matters not what I want from the shadowsinger, only what he wants from Autumn.

I can think of no better desire to advance Our People than to abide by his whims. He will listen. He will serve. He comes from the common folk. He loves us and I love him. You will grow to love him as we develop our lands. He is the key to our salvation. Join me and love him with me.

[razorblade180]

Flowers in a desert

Under dim shattered moonlight, Remnants greatest hero traversed arid sands among a forgotten trail. Reported Grimm and bandit activity had increased in the area as of late; her constant proactive behavior would’ve caused her to handle this behavior a request came up, but being required a certain amount of time off field. Well, for good parents anyway, which she tried to be. On top of other crimes, this particular problem got to fester a bit.

The cool desert wind hollowed across dunes and carried the scent of gunpowder. Echoes of gunfire alongside clashing metal drew Ruby over a large dune overlooking an Oasis. Normally, the noise of a battle would hasten her pace, but tonight she chose to sit down and watch over her eldest daughter as she took the request hours earlier. It was rather strange and a unique opportunity seeing the girl work. Almost like an out of body experience.

Petals fell down like rain while Carmine soared over heads and take down foes. To Ruby, Carmine was the definition of “poetry in motion.” Her feet glided along the sand around one person to dodge, then spun towards another to be firmly on the offensive. Even from where Ruby sat, the look of pure boredom was clear in her daughter’s eyes. Maybe boredom was the wrong word. More like…unbothered.

One moment four bandits attacked at once, then the next they were falling to ground in pain. A blade toss here, then a leap over there….before a perfect roundhouse into an uppercut and sword retrieval. Carmine stood above many her age and some older for quite awhile. Combine that with her own personal attitude towards how Huntsman should conduct themselves, and you get a very caring yet dangerous child. Ruby remembered feeling unchallenged and learning the strength she possessed, but at least being huntsman was her dream. Her first love even. Not so much for Carmine.

Enemies didn’t feel the righteous sting of a scythe or blade when facing Carmine. No, they felt cold hard logic and the pain of someone who’d rather be doing something else. Every battle was dance on stage missed. Her talents were owned from a pride of her heritage and her choice of work was self imposed sense of necessity to protect the good in the world; the good she loved so much. It was the brutal distinction between the two of them. Ruby always tried her best to fight the evil in people and save their good. Carmine however…was fine hunting down evil that prayed on the good that was left in others.

“Are we done here?” The girl said, surrounded by the battered bodies she left in her wake. “If this goes on much longer, people will actually start dying.”

Ruby watched a man and woman step up to the challenge, bringing many followers to them. They were most likely the leaders and seemed hell bent on fighting. As she stood up to go intervene before things got fatal for anyone, Carmine switched to scythe mode and stomped her foot.

An eruption of rose petals swirled in the area as she held her weapon out to the side and approached painfully slow. Her eyes never faltered from her enemies, even as she began spinning the scythe. No words. No blinking. No expression. Only a cold gaze of hidden intentions that made the bandits shiver before dropping their weapons and getting on their knees.

“We…surrender.”

Carmine put her weapon down and the petals pour. A gust of wind brought her mother beside her.

Ruby:That was an interesting move.

Carmine:Didn’t get to do it, again. Not that I’m disappointed. Lots a people are idiotic enough not to listen to my first warning, but smart enough to avoid real harm. Still…I probably won’t get much practice with that particular attack.

Ruby:Did you know I was watching?

Carmine:Nope. Not that it would change anything. These guys are weak. If I couldn’t end this without bloodshed, then I clearly would still have a lot to learn.

Ruby:…Let’s take tomorrow off and go to Atlas. Ships are still running tonight.

Carmine:Huh?

Ruby:Yeah they built a new mall and have a ballet performance happening. It could be fun.

Carmine:We… still have turn all these people in.

Ruby gently rubbed the top of her child’s head before stepping forward towards the bandits with a sunny grin. She crouches down to their level and keeps her grin, however, the warm sunlit granted to them became cold and distant to the point of feeling like a dream that never happened.

“Grab your people and turn yourselves in. My daughter has spent enough time on you as is, okay?”

“Y-Yes…” they trembled.

Carmine watched her mom get back up and turn around to give her typical loving smile. Ruby walked past her, gently leading the girl by the hand to go home and pack their things.

Carmine:..What did you say to them?

Ruby:That I loved you more than my job. They understand. Mom first, hero second, but that’s enough about them. I heard the performance can take requests. Have anything in mind?

Carmine:….I’ve always liked Firebird. Maybe a few routines from Swan Lake and The Nutcracker.

Ruby:Ah makes sense. No wonder your spins are so graceful. Now I’m curious what that big move of yours looks like. I bet it’s a real showstopper!

Carmine:*red*…..I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe I can show it off sometime? Ya know, just for show.

Ruby:Hell yeah.

Flustered at the idea, Carmine’s face grew red at the thought. Still, she smiled; really smiled. That’s all that really mattered to Ruby. The two may have their differences but that was okay when they could have moments like these. Although, if you asked a loved one or foe, they’d be quick to tell how often one looks like the other.

[raphaelol]

Lost Brother

notes: What if Kaveh's mother was Inazuman and had two instead of one son? And why were we never introduced to that son? Read to find out!

Have fun ;)

Words: 2319

TW!!

This story, like many stories, begins with two lovers. One of them was a traveling architect from Sumeru and the other a hobby artist from Inazuma. Both of them had sun kissed blonde hair and a shared love for old cities. While the architect’s eyes were blue colored, the artists eyes were of a carmine color. Before they fell in love, the artist left her homeland because she didn’t feel safe anymore in Inazuma… not with the war going on between Watazumi Island and the rest of her Homeland.  The things she had seen while traveling thru Inazuma’s Islands… the blood of the innocent’s, how beautiful red flowers bloomed over their corpses. Enchanted she drew them, the flowers, to memorize herself with their beauty born from bloodshed. She left a few days after she drew them, hiding in a ship full of a lyuen merchant’s goods. From Lyue harbor she walked the three-day path to Sumeru City by foot. There she meets a young gentleman with stunning blue eyes. At first, they didn’t get along well, but after some time they realized how much they had in common, fell in love and married a few years after. From their union came two lovely children. Their firstborn was named after the first electro Archon Makoto, a connection to his Inazuman roots, while the second-born son was named Kaveh, after the father of the architect. The firstborn son had inherited his father’s ocean blue eyes and his mother’s golden hair which, other the father’s hair, didn’t fade into brown at the tips. The name of said firstborn may be that of a female Archon, but the mother reassured him that, no matter what gender, her firstborn child will be named Makoto and that she hit her husband with one of his architecture books to get him to agreeing. Father told Makoto that his mother was really scary during pregnancy… which would be proved only a few months after Makoto’s eight birthday, when Mother was pregnant with her second child. And when little Kaveh was finally born, Makoto knew that he would protect this bundle of joy with his life. Mother would stay at home while father went to work and Makoto to the Accademia. Makoto went to Spantamad, to study the elements and potions. He also took a few lessons with the Armuta about medicine. Everything in their life went perfect, Makoto graduated from the Accademia at 18 and little Kaveh started the Accademia at the same time to follow father’s footsteps and become a great architect, when suddenly everything went downhill…

“You should take Makoto with you this time! It would be a great bonding experience and our son could learn much about the dessert!”

“Are you sure my love?” a skeptical look crossed the blonde mans face. His once ocean blue eyes held something hollow inside them. “Our son is not really Interested in my work…”

“Nonsense!” insisted mother. She knew that Makoto has no interest in architecture but she wants that her oldest and her husband spend more time together. After the disaster that was the Interdarshan Championship her husband separated himself more and more from his children and wife. “He has to go out of the house for a while. All this time staying in his room and brewing potions will make his brain go sluggish! Besides, when was the last time you took one of your children to the dessert? You were there with them so often when they were younger.”

Sighing father rubbed his forehead. “Alright I will take him with me.”

“Promise you come back?” asked, or rather demanded young Kaveh, his carmine eyes looking into that of an ocean blue pair.

“Of course, I be back little prince! I will always come back to tease you!” he looked so much like their mother at that time…

“You know I hate it when you’re calling me that.” Pouted Kaveh while Makoto ruffed ruffled his younger brother’s hair. Makoto smiled softly and reached into his own hair to get his hairclip out, a beautiful teal blue feather. “Close your eyes.” Said Makoto and with a last questioning look at his older brother, Kaveh closed his eyes and waited. With a practiced move, Makoto placed his feather in Kaveh’s hair securely, so that it wouldn’t fall out when moving his head. “Take good care of this one. It’s my favorite! Wouldn’t want it to get dirty with the desserts sand.” Said a smiling Makoto “I want it back as soon as I see you again.” Now Kaveh too was smiling and he hugged his older brother. What both of them didn’t know, was that it would be the last time they hugged each other in a very long time.

“DAD!”

“MAKOTO!”

“DON’T LET GO OF MY HAND!”

“I’m sorry…”

“NO! DAD!”

In the end both sunk into the quicksand.

Makoto felt nothing but panic as his mouth and lounges filled with sand. The feeling of suffocating… nothing could ever inflict this kind of pain into a human being…

And then nothing

Only darkness and no feelings anymore.

No pain, no panic, just darkness and peace…

I woke up, bound to a chair, infusions piercing my skin. I tried to gain understanding of what happened. Where was I? and where was “Dad?” I said throat hurting, probably from the sand that I swallowed. “The men you were brought with died months ago.” Said a voice next to me. There was a person, a male also bound to a chair, but without the infusions. I looked at him, it was dark but I could see him almost perfectly. Moths spend in a dark room brewing potions does that to you. His skin was pale from not being in the sun for probably a long time, his lips crusty and dry, his hair black with some, maybe blue? String in it. But the most eye-catching detail were the large ears atop of his head and the fluffy tail swaying lazily behind him. “Valuka Shuna?” the man tilted his head, ears going with the motion, one laying flat while the other stood to attention. “How do you know child?” he asked, amusement in his voice despite the position we were both in. “Where are we?” I decided to ask instead of answering his question. The man sighed “This is not the first time you asked this.”. at my confused look he decided to explain: “In the ten months you were here you awoke multiple times, always disoriented and asking questions but wouldn’t remember the conversation afterwards.” Now he laughed, it was a bitter laugh that send a shiver across my spine. “But don’t worry.” he smiled, not a nice smile “You will remember soon, they all remembered, but will you stay sane, or end up like the others?” he asked not a simmer of worry in his voice, but curiosity. Before I could ask another question, something was injected into my bloodstream, making me shiver in discuss and pain. So much pain… so, so, much.

I lost consciousness, probably not for the first or the last time.

I opened my eyes, seeing only white, blinding white lights.

There is a voice. “Sir no other experiments have lived after transplantation, should we really…” “Are you questioning me soldier?” said another voice, this one full of amusement and authority, different from the worried first voice. “No! Of course, not Il Dottore! It’s just…” “Then what is it?!” asked the second voice, the amusement vanished from his voice. “Nothing.” Answered the first voice. I couldn’t move any of my body parts, only my eyes, searching for the faces that matched the voices. “Let’s not delay we have to see if number 28’s organs are intact and ready to handle the transplantation.” Then came the pain. I screamed a silent scream inside my head. My body was cut open… My vision turned red and before the pain stopped, I heard the voice of the one called Dottore: “Sleep now 28 then the pain will stop… for a moment or two, hmm.” He was right, the pain stopped… for now.

I woke up screaming, but no sound came out, my throat still dry and hurting. “Don’t damage your throat more than it already is child.” Said the man next to me. A strange, pained whimper could be heard, echoing across the dark room. “You’re starting to remember, aren’t you?” he asked, but didn’t wait for a response and even if he did, I was not capable of speaking at the moment. “It will only get worse with time but once you remember everything it should get better…” he stopped for a moment, considering his next words. “The others died of shock, from experiencing the pain again and again, or they got insane, blabbering nonsense and killing themselves while trying to escape the infusions.” Another whimper, was I doing theses sounds? I tried making a sound again but it couldn’t. “The sound you’re making are subconical, you can’t recreate them whenever you want.” His voice gentle, different to the harsh and curios voice he had when we spoke the last time. “I believe in you child. Somehow I have a feeling that you are going to be different.” Those were the last words I heard before loosing the fight with the darkness.

Pain. So much pain. My scalp feels like it is ripped open, my back is icing and there is a hand in my hair. A hand in my hair? Someone is petting me. “Awake again I see 28.” Said the voice above me. Through the pain I could feel the hard tights of the man whose voice was speaking to me, whose hand was stroking my hair gently, easing the pain from my scalp. I leaned into the touch, despite knowing that this was the person who cut me open the last time I was awake. “Oh, I know you are hurting, but don’t worry! It is going to stop soon… after a bit of more pain.” He said and suddenly grabbed something atop of my head and pulled. “AAARRRGGGGHHHH!” I screamed. Oh, how much it hurts. It hurts, hurts hurts… so much pain! More than before… I could feel the blood dripping over my face, running down across my eyes, painting my vision red. Why was it so hot in here? The blood ran into my open mouth, making me taste the crimson liquid. “Stop squirming or I have to restrain you 28.” Said Dottore and let go of the thing he just pulled out of my scalp. “One last time and then you can go to sleep again!” he said and moved his hand to the left and pulled again. I sobbed. Tears mixed with blood and snort flowed down my face. MY screams echoing. He was laughing lightly. “You are wondering why you have to be awake during this?” he said as he adjusted his grip on the thing he was pulling. “So, I know when you have reached your limits! The first five subjects died while sedated during this process, so I now know what to avoid.” Finally, he let go and begin to massage around these things that he pulled out of my hair. “You know, your body accepted the transplantation quite well, maybe you will be the first to live through this.” The pain was still there when I grew unconscious. Finally, sleep. Beautiful, peaceful sleep.

“The name is Alejandro.” Said the voice of the man next to me. I noticed that the bindings were gone and he was stretching his back with a satisfying crack!

“Since when are you here?” I asked, my voice feeling better as if I had something to drink while asleep. “No idea kiddo. Maybe ten years or so? It is almost impossible to tell the time in this shit hole.” He said while scratching behind his ears. “Uh, finally! That stupid ich has been bordering me since forever!” Once he was done scratching his ears he moved to my chair and cut the binds with his surprisingly sharp nails. “Couldn’t you have gotten out of the binds earlier?” I asked confused. “Nah mine were out of metal, mor like handcuffs. Yours are cloth.” He surged and slowly took out the infusions. “They told me you wouldn’t need them anymore because your body accepted the change, so congratulation!” he said while taking the last needle out of my arm. “Who are They?” My voice small but clear in the room. “The Fatui of course!” said Alejandro with fake enthusiasm. “We are their lab rats. As far as I know I am here so they can take my DNA and create a formular of something and to transplant it into the test subjects. In your case child, you are the test subject. What ever they are trying to accomplish with turning you into a Valuka Shuna is beyond me- “, “What do you mean with turning me into a Valuka Shuna?!” I durned my head to look at him and felt a weight on top of my head, the same place Dottore pulled… “Look down child.” He said and I could see a sad grin taking over his face. As my eyes traveled south, I could make out how malnourished he was, the cloths hanging of his underweight body and when I finally locked down to where he pointed, my breath got stuck in my lungs. There unmistakable, a tail, growing out from over my butt. I fainted.

“Oh 28! Awake again I see!” Dottore’s voice, familiar but painful. Everything was loud. His breath, his heart… His heart? “Ah I see! It worked just perfect! Now the only thing left to do is to remove those, now useless human ears and then you will be as good as new!” Wait what?!

“Child? You, okay?” Another voice, a different one, I knew this one… Alejandro?

Should I do a part two??

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb: In this romantic fantasy of manners from New York Times bestselling author Allison Saft, a magical dressmaker commissioned for a royal wedding finds herself embroiled in scandal when a gossip columnist draws attention to her undeniable chemistry with the groom.

Niamh Ó Conchobhair has never let herself long for more. The magic in her blood that lets her stitch emotions and memories into fabric is the same magic that will eventually kill her. Determined to spend the little time she has left guaranteeing a better life for her family, Niamh jumps at the chance to design the wardrobe for a royal wedding in the neighboring kingdom of Avaland.

But Avaland is far from the fairytale that she imagined. While young nobles attend candlelit balls and elegant garden parties, unrest brews amid the working class. The groom himself, Kit Carmine, is prickly, abrasive, and begrudgingly being dragged to the altar as a political pawn. But when Niamh and Kit grow closer, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more—until an anonymous gossip columnist starts buzzing about their chemistry, promising to leave them alone only if Niamh helps to uncover the royal family’s secrets. The rot at the heart of Avaland runs deep, but exposing it could risk a future she never let herself dream of, and a love she never thought possible.

Transporting readers to a Regency England-inspired fantasy world, A Fragile Enchantment is a sweeping romance threaded with intrigue, unforgettable characters, and a love story for the ages.

Review:

A magical dressmaker is commissioned to dress the prince for his royal wedding finds herself doing the unthinkable, falling for the very thorny groom and being embroiled in political scandal like no other. Niamh has magic in her blood, she can stitch emotions and memories into fabric... but it comes at a cost if she overworks herself, it's killing her slowly. She is determined to use her gifts to provide for her family, so when she is offered the chance to design the wardrobe for a royal wedding in the neighboring kingdom she seizes it... despite said kingdom currently having a war about the mistreatment of people like her. When Niamh meets the groom, Kit, she finds that he is rude, prickly, and being forced to the altar by his brother. Kit and Niamh may not have had a good first meeting but they can't seem to stay away from one another. Their romance is forbidden, not only are they from two different classes but he's a groom promised in a political marriage and she's a commoner seamstress. Yet the more time she spends with him the more she is realizing there is much more going on in Avaland... and that the royal family has secrets that could destroy everything. Niamh has always given more of herself for others, always trying to make everyone else happy while Kit has kept himself walled up, afraid to show his true emotions and let anyone in... yet together they might be perfect for each other, if only they could find a way to get Kit out of his marriage without bloodshed. This was a really fun regency fantasy romance with a touch of mystery, angst, yearning, and a unique love story. I loved Niamh and Kit, they are both so invested in protecting others and being self sacrificing, they care so much and I loved their chemistry together. I adored getting to fall for their romance story and I enjoyed the unique Regency England-inspired world that was created and the bit of magic that was added! If you enjoy fantasy romance with a touch of historical give this a go, I promise it'll be a great time for you!

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press, Wednesday Booksnfor sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[19mhz]

@redemptsin: ‘here, give this a try and tell me what you think.’ (niffty)

LIDDED CARMINE EYES GLANCED LANGUIDLY FROM THE VERBOSE BRAWL HE HAD BEEN AVIDLY ATTENDING TO. dearest husker and the snake were having quite the argument. very diverting — especially during such a particularly droll time in this place (what does one get up to in the absence of bloodshed and a radio show, you wonder!). sat neatly on one of the parlor's vivid couches, thin legs crossed, the demon's smile stretched like a splitting wound of teeth as a jazzy tune crackled out of a static fuzz. “why, my dear, you shouldn't have. for me?” ah — though perhaps she really shouldn't. niffty's current bug-possessed endeavors now involved cooking, if the word fit. ears twitched almost imperceptivity atop his head. hyphema gaze stared intently at the murky soup she presented. well, i suppose it wouldn't be polite of me to turn down such a kindness. a-ha. gaily came the hummed, “gladly - yy.”

hands cupped the bowel, red-tipped fingers clacking against the ceramic. the bowl's contents sloshed (it reminded him of the lovely juices that came out of freshly opened chest cavity). “hmm ...” a few stirs of the spoon, before lips pucker around a dainty sip. brows arched, then — another sip. the swallow is a smidge slow, but smile remains, if a tad taut. a ... distinct flavor. “very good, niffty. very! it co - oould use some more meat. another cockroach or two should do it. who knew the culinary arts were also contained in that deranged little head of yours, ha-ha!”

[carmineverga]

a starter for @riversharpe,

There'd been bloodshed, a whole pool of blood, really, but it was these vampiric proclivities that had Carmine wishing to tear through the entirety of the party; bloodline by bloodline. Seemingly untouchable creatures they paraded around their desires and gluttony as though it was their armor. Carmine sat and glowered for the most part, Napoleon knew how to make a party invigorating but right now the Riot was hunting down Jonas to ensure he'd made it. Another lycan lingered near and though Carmine had come to recognize frequent patrons of the Waffle House, this one was familiar in an entirely different way. "You look miserable," a red cup was unceremoniously shoved at the other; Carmine was curious if this one could really be one of the few who had the displeasure of being bitten by the Malice. It was the only other logic to him, he was certain Napoleon wouldn't bring this type around the estate.

[queenofcandynsoda]

So, the Restrictor is Carmine’s dad? I can assume that the relationship is really bad.

I assume it would if your dad actively tried to kill you since he saw you as a runt when you were a baby.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 5.2

Looking at the header art, and wondering about the choice of location for the three girls. Avery's is on the Forest Ribbon Trail, and Lucy's where they Awakened. Both sites of a personal trial. Seems deeply sad that Verona's is her own room.

She reached for the feathers in her pocket and found the fur instead.  Glamour.  She touched it to cape and pulled the cape around herself. [...] Tail was a guide, legs pulled in close while they faced the sky, splaying out while she faced the ground.

interesting that there's not an actual description of transforming, Verona just reaches for glamour and then is in cat form, with no text acknowledgement of the shift.

“What happens if she kept some of my magic notes and she’s copying them?” [...] "Besides, most would become Other, instead of Awakening in a raw way. With no clear power sources on hand, she would be draining from herself. Depending on the practice she’s trying, and how well, she could spend too much of herself and invite the wrong thing in."

In most stories, I would assume this was foreshadowing. Here, I think it's equally likely that this is meant to assure readers that something they've been speculating about won't happen. I think that might be a quirk of web serials? Since they are serialized readers can latch on to a theory and start interpreting things to fit it, but since they tend to be written as it goes the author can address those theories in text. It's also a nice way of making the characters seem competent: they've thought of the same potential consequences that the readers have been worried about, and you don't end up screaming at the page for them to figure out the obvious thing.

“For yer Lucy, aye.  After tha gun was put to ‘er bonny head.  It don’t do nothin’, haudin’ back.”

awww

“Can do, aye.  Can do a wee number on them too.  Tha pure tough ones, they dae better, ordinar’.” “Lucy’s tough.” “Aye, but Lucy-” Alpeana went silent.

oh? curious to know what she was going to say here

Key features of Verona's nightmare:

she's still with her father, relations have gone even further downhill, he's still encroaching on her space

she hasn't done anything with her life, dead-ended in Kennet

friends with Melissa, who I think is representing getting stuck in self-pity here (that's what Verona thought of her at the party)

Lucy has moved on from her, but isn't hostile: it's Verona's fault they're not friends, she rejects Lucy, who pities her

Lucy is doing well without her (ie Verona is holding her back)

Avery's also moved on, but doesn't really feature in the nightmare

drug use (drowning out her life, no other fulfillment)

general emotions: hopelessness, loss, waste

“I take power from Kennet’s Others, for Kennet.  I give it to you.  Draw and drink until you have what you need,” Verona said.

not sure I knew they could do this? This is a potential motivation for someone to set up their Awakening, if they can convince the girls to draw on power and hand it over.

“Can we steer them, or give them sanctuary, or something, instead?” Verona asked.  She wasn’t sure why she was fixating on this like this.

good of Verona to be thinking of ways to help the spirits, instead if just seeing them as obstacles. Maybe also winning her some goodwill from Edith and Matthew, since she's clearly too frazzled to be trying to make herself look compassionate

“I need to hold onto me right now, I think,” Verona said, hugging her arms to her body, as if it was cold.

also good of Verona to not retreat into the practice. This makes me feel better about her plans for becoming Other? If she can recognize that right now doing something far from human would be partially trying to run from that mundane future

“Tha toon’s wet wit’ Carmine blood, Mattie.  It asks fer more bloodshed.”

another factor in how much of the story will this mystery span: how long can Kennet last?

“I wish I knew how Miss found you three.”

big mood Matthew!

Also confirmation that Miss was the one who picked them, seemingly by herself. Also, going back to the timing thing I talked about before: how did she find such excellent practitioners for Kennet within the same night the CB died? It seemed like she was watching Avery before... how long did it take her to pick the three of them, and how did she know to look?

There was an animal carcass on the ground, bloated. A goblin thing.

well there's that answer. I guess it tracks.

To face this woman, who, at least on paper, represented that ugly, dismal, lonely, and wonder-less reality.  To beat her.

oh. there's the thematic link between Verona and the skeptic. For Lucy and Daniel: she's studying with the Fae, careful and practical, learning to be a warrior, learning to embrace her anger. He's the singer, unmoored from the world, hurt by the Fae, not a pacifist but not really a fighter? And just as Avery's reaching out for connections, Clem cuts herself off from connections to people, is plagued by connections to things.

[xue-shah]

i.

for 1XX days, you colored me red. i have long been eager to learn how to speak your name, dear. amongst all people in the crowd—there, i saw you. you reminded me of an amalgam of amethyst and saffron hues during sunset, and the very first thought occurrence that surged my mind was to watch the captivating, sundry shades of the setting sky turn into the melancholic gloom of dusk; with no one else but you, my love. no one else.

​​​​​however, my love back then was a manic one. and, inside of ​those hundreds of days, i only saw you through scarlet-tinted glasses—but darling, the dark shade of color had me blinded, and i fooled myself that i was reaching your hands. it even came to the extent of keeping carmine petal roses that i slid inside envelopes which carried letters i've sent, but never reached you. my love—they never reached you.

thus, fool was my name who was unable to deliver the words deeply etched in my tongue:

"i adore you."

oh dear, i adore you. if i had only parted my lips wide open... then mayhaps, i had long been able to grasp a longtime wish, sent to the shimmering specks of stardust scattered above the endless sea of black holes, and whimsical cosmos. yet, time and time again, the heart betrays its own. and, it would be an impiety for me to deny, that i had been nothing but a person with a puny heart.

i once thought that with all of the vibrancy that red reflected in my irises, it would only speak of nothing but love. yet, there is also loss.

love and loss. that's what red is all about.

ii.

and, there came by what seems to be the perpetual years of bleakness. for 1,4XX days apart—of noticeable gaps, missing pieces in a puzzle, and simply years of longing—you colored me ebony; with unfamiliar statuettes coloring me different hues of red. it resembles a wintry landscape used as a backdrop for bloodshed. i've met people who partially filled the spaces on the other side of my bed, where you once attempted to lay on. and dear, let me tell you how years felt like a never-ending one; like i already lived the entirety of my life meeting all kinds of people. some of them left a wound in me, and some of them i have wounded myself. it was a rollercoaster ride, and a ceaseless one at best.

​

​should i say more? my love, i've reached the point where i thought many times that i might just be better off alone. when my mind ticks off something in me, it's like the seas that were once calm came churning until it grows into a series of tidal waves, manifesting into howling hurricanes. oh, it ached. it threw misery into my shoulders whenever i found myself finding no home in each of the person i adored after you.

i had been living in an endless void—nowhere to run, not knowing if i'll ever reach something, at least.

oh, but dear—the heavens must've heard my wails and agony. whereas, in that exact pitch black void, i saw a tiny pinch of light.

and then, the next thing i know, the sun kisses me with its rays for all of its might.

iii.

for 28 days and counting, we found our way back to each other, coloring each other yellow—warm, like daylight. it's like walking my way back home after a long, exhausting day, and finding each other in a couch that we share together—cuddling and exchanging recitals of our love. it's like sailing back into the shores where i have once departed from, and finding your name which i once wrote in the sand, still bearing its mark from a few years back. oh, my love—it's still there. it's like the crease on the page that i left in a book, that i somehow stopped reading by the time i reached the middle chapter. the pages are much older now—stained by dusts and subtle marks of coffee that crumpled the sheets, turning it crisp and brown—and, perhaps when i read it again, it will make me feel so much wiser than before. the contents are still the same, but time works like a chemical preserving fruits to prevent it from rotting in a short span. yet, this love that we have surpasses time itself, dear. and, you may or may have said this before, but if fate is truly a real thing, then maybe all of the monotonous chapters of my life where you never existed, were all but the stars' doing to bring the both of us here—us in each other's arms.

my lovely darling—i found you, and you found me. right where our world seems to crumble apart in our soles; we found each other. then, everything around me are vivid again—full of yellows, the scent of wintry leaves colliding with the arrival of spring. it's like my mornings always greet me now with the scent of freshly baked goods, that'll fill up our stomach for breakfast. it's like the brand new paints of vibrant colors are enough to fill the canvas—not having to think about a concept—because all are in the right spaces to paint on, creating a masterpiece that is our love.

my years-old written letters finally reached you. and, if i only longed to spell out your name before, then my tongue is now the most fluent one in speaking them as if it's my very own language.

i have long since engraved your name into my tongue, and even just by your silhouette, it will know how to call out for you. because, darling—oh, my darling dearest—my tongue remembers the taste of you.

written by elishah.

april 10, 2023

[s-099]

[ swipe ] :}c hehe

COUNTLESS  BODIES  OF  SYNDICATE  MEMBERS  AND  MONSTERS  ALIKE  LAID  AT  THE  BEAST'S  FEET  ,  dismembered  &  lathered  in  gore  .  blackened  ,  mucilaginous  spikes  rose  from  the  ground  &  pierced  through  the  fallen  foes  ;  creating  a  sickeningly  fetid  smell  to  rise  with  the  heat  of  the  room  .  ninety-nine  stood  among  the  mess  ,  bloodied  and  panting  heavily  .  the  battle  couldn't  be  called  fierce  ,  for  it  was  dreadfully  one  sided  .  every  slash  of  her  blade  would  see  a  new  enemy  cut  apart  ,  like  a  hot  knife  through  butter  …  and  yet  she  was  exhausted  all  the  same  ,  desperately  fighting  back  the  urge  within  her  to  totally  UNLEASH  .  to  break  free  the  beast  locked  away  at  the  very  depths  of  her  soul  so  she  might  finally  enjoy  the  opportunity  to  kill  anything  in  her  path  . 

it's  ninety-nine's  strong  (albeit  partially  wavering)  will  that  kept  her  monstrous  nature  in  check  .  in  the  now  eerily  silence  of  the  room  all  that  could  be  heard  was  the  whirring  and  hissing  of  the  mechanics  in  her  back  as  they  released  bountiful  steam  in  an  attempt  to  cool  down  her  overheating  body  ,  helping  her  regain  composure  without  the  need  for  injecting  mood  stabilizers  . 

carmine  leer  scanned  the  room  ,  limbs  shakily  returning  the  blade  she  held  to  her  hip  whilst  she  ensured  that  all  enemies  were  no  longer  breathing  .  any  injuries  she  might  have  sustained  in  the  battle  were  already  healing  ,  visually  knitting  gashes  back  together  .  her  heart  pulsed  violently  ,  causing  a  acute  throbbing  ‘tween  her  ears  and  obscuring  briefly  her  usually  very  keen  hearing  .  it’s  this  brief  distraction  that  lets  coquelic  slip  through  unnoticed  ,  sneaking  into  ninety-nine's  field  of  vision  at  a  distance  far  enough  so  that  it  gave  the  monster  time  to  realise  who  she  was  . 

“            you  …          ”             the  beast  spoke  ,  dark  limbs  dropping  to  her  sides  as  she  watched  the  other's  graceful  approach  ,  dancing  across  the  various  bodies  strewn  around  the  room  totally  unfazed  ,  as  if  deep  within  bloodshed  is  where  she  belonged  .  choosing  not  to  speak  more  ,  ninety-nine  simply  allowed  the  other  to  close  the  distance  ‘tween  them  .  piercingly  intimidating  carmine  gaze  followed  her  every  move  ,  admiring  briefly  both  form  and  features  .  she  simply  watches  in  silence  as  finally  coquelic  lifts  a  hand  ,  daring  to  trace  a  thumb  along  a  monster’s  cheek  to  rid  it  of  a  spot  of  blood  .  a  bold  move  ,  but  one  that  garnered  some  respect  from  ninety-nine  .  she  allowed  the  touch  to  linger  ,  perhaps  enjoying  a  little  too  much  the  softness  of  the  other's  fingers  …  a  nice  contrast  from  the  roughness  she  is  usually  treated  with  .                “            careful  where  you  step  .             ”              ninety-nine  began  finally  ,  voice  rougher  than  usual  .                “            their  blood  isn't  deserving  of  staining  something  like  you  .             ”                it's  meant  as  a  compliment  ,  the  closest  ninety-nine  could  get  to  calling  her  beautiful  . 

INBOX PROMPT // ACCEPTING // @rhoeade

[voxxisms]

@wiltingwoes called a meeting ;; continued.

“ Did not think you had it in you, golubaya soyka. I thought you were all…wires and watchful eyes, not VIOLENCE AND BLOODSHED. Not that I am complaining. This is quite the sight. “ Puffing on her cigar, the familiar carmine smoke wafted through the fog, tangoing with the nippy air. Admiring his masterpiece, she then stepped out of the shadows to shimmy off her poncho, draping it around his slumped shoulders, “ Good thing I found you when I was on my nightly stroll. “ Stalking. She was absolutely stalking him for more information on what he does after hours, but she’s going to play it off as if this were a fateful coincidence. “ Why do so many people have it out for you anyway? All you do is sell technological shit. What, do they expect to rob a phone or watch off of your corpse? What a steal. “

THERE SHE was. ever an opportunist, he thought, though he could hardly blame her. everyone in this hellhole was exactly the same, the only possible difference being her motive versus everyone else's. he didn't know entirely what it was that she was here for. had she been out, simply seen him across the way? had she been following him, like so many liked to? he did not know, && he preferred not to speculate too much. that was how one developed paranoia.

he would know.

he allowed the garment to be placed over his shoulders, letting out a heavy sigh && grasping the material in his fingers to keep it around himself.

blue jay was a new one. a quick translation gave him the term. at least it still worked.

❝ it's not about stealing something off of me, no. it's about proving that i'm weak enough to be overthrown. ❞

her words might have been lighter, or somewhat jokish, but his tone was serious && tense, as though reciting nothing short of well - known fact. it was the truth, after all. people attacked because they could, because it was allowed, && to prove their own strength. if he fell to some random, low - life sinners, it would prove how easy it could be to overtake him. more would come, they would never stop. he would lose power, lose credibility. it mattered.

❝ it's not new. although it has been a while. && if they did succeed, it would mean a hit to reputation, a boost in theirs, fame, even just a few precious seconds. they could steal what i do have, which is a good amount of cash, my cards. but those are less important here, less of a big deal than the bragging rights of killing an overlord as big as myself. ❞

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel Episode One: "Overture" Part 1 (Helluva Scribe Remake)

“Overture” Part 1

A small red moon hovered in a red sky with a glowing red pentagram on it. An eerie silence swept over the polluted and grimy Pentagram City, located in Hell. Large red signs read in black letters: “Punishment” and “Your Days are Numbered,” near a spinning spotlight. A torn poster of a grinning horned angel blew in the wind, while red graffiti read “CLEANSE,” and “FUCK YOU, HEAVEN!” Another poster showed a grinning angel with dark black wings near a “WHORE!” sign. The streets were littered with the remains of monstrous creatures and demons, red blood dripping and staining many areas. Usually, many Hellborn demons and former humans called Sinners would interact with each other and often fight. But once every year, the demons had a foe they were wary of…the Exorcists. They were vulture-like and bloodthirsty angels who wore horned LED masks with Xs over the eyes and white glowing hideous grins. The angels would come down to Hell and kill as many Sinners as they could, relishing in the bloodshed. The ex-humans, unlike the Hellborn, would respawn in Hell, and the only way they (or any powerful demon) could permanently be killed was by a fatal blow from an angelic weapon.

Why did the Exorcists kill a whole bunch of demons? With more humans being sent to Hell in modern times, it was a gruesome method to curb overpopulation. The souls of dead demons would then become food for an evil eldritch goddess named Roo, sister and opposite to the heavenly Goddess who fathered the fallen angel Lucifer and all of creation. For Roo, the exterminations and violence were beneficial to her greedy hunger. For powerful Sinners called Overlords, it was a great opportunity to control more people in Hell and gain territory.

But one individual was heartbroken by the deaths of her people: Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell and daughter of Lucifer and Lilith.

Charlie’s shoulders slumped as she walked somberly onto the spiky balcony of her mansion. Her hair was long and blonde, tied in a curly ponytail reaching to her waist. She wore a light pink tuxedo shirt, her bowtie black and her undershirt white with two black buttons. She wore long black pants and pointed black shoes. Her face was white with red spots on her cheeks and large yellow eyes with black pupils and long eyelashes. In the background were large signs that read “WELCOME TO HELL.” A clock tower was nearby, showing the number 0.

Charlie glanced down at the bodies of her people littering the street and moved a hand across her face in sadness. Then with a flick of her finger, she shot fireworks into the red sky, music notes and gold music strings trailing behind the fiery sphere. Red, purple, and yellow fireworks boomed against the large glowing red pentagram in the sky. Coincidentally, it was New Year’s Day, also the day of the Extermination. The fireworks were a cue to the other demons that the dreaded Extermination was over and that it was safe to come out. Sure enough, two demons poked out of the windows of a nearby building. One was dark red with red eyes, the other was a female demon with long dark hair, a light purple face, teal eyes, and teal long nails. She wore a white dress and a purple hat with white trim and was hanging a rug outside the window. A red horned demon with small bat wings, one big eye and a small eye above it posed, wearing a spiky collar, and a black tank top. A sign read “Demon” nearby in white letters. Spiky black vines curled up the nearby yellow windows.

A pale demon woman opened up curtains as a red firework spread across the sky. She was Carmilla Carmine, a powerful Overlord and weapons dealer. Behind her was an ancient black spider-like demon named Zestial. He relaxed in a tall chair, sipping from a wine glass. A figure of a dinosaur woman Overlord posed with her glowing yellow eye. Behind her was the sitting silhouette of the red-eyed Lucifer, the king of Hell, holding his apple cane.

A large pink building read “Porn Studios,” a structure of red wide lips dotted with lights in the center. The building had pink windows and three pink Xs on the front. A teal-eyed, black haired, red-skinned succubus statue smiled and posed against the building in a short black dress and fishnet stockings. Strings of lights decorated the round roof of the studio. More fireworks sparked outside.

Safe inside Porn Studios were the three Vee Overlord villains: Vox, Valentino, and Velvette. Vox had a flat screen TV for a head and two large red eyes, his left eye larger and hypnotic. He wore a black suit with vertical teal stripes. His undershirt had red and black stripes, his collar dark teal with red trim, and his bowtie large and red. The center of his chest showed curved black lines and a circle in the center, representing a TV signal. A small black top hat on his head showed teal electricity lines and a red TV signal. His grinning teeth were teal and shark-like. Vox had ownership of all television in Hell and his VoxTech products. He had been gaining power over the years since his arrival from Earth in the 1950s. His phone had his logo on it, a teal V looking like electricity.

Grinning off to the side was Valentino, the owner of Porn Studios. He had arrived in Hell in the 1970s. He was a moth demon with glowing pink eyes under pink heart sunglasses with yellow trim. He had a pink tall top hat with black and white stripes, and a black and white feather on top (his right one was missing). He had four arms and wore a red robe with a fluffy white collar decorated with hearts. His sharp teeth were pink, and his face was grayish. He was a pimp and was the boss of porn star Angel Dust. His phone had a moth design on it with hearts.

Finally, the youngest was Velvette, the Overlord of social media. She had arrived in Hell in the 1990s. She had thick wild hair in two large ponytails, one white and one dark pink. She wore a white frilly dress with pink in the center, large poofy purple and pink shoulder covers, and sleeves decorated with pink and white stripes. Her face was gray, and her eyes were large and red with white iris and black pupils. Vox looked taken aback as she grinned and took a selfie with him with her cell phone. Her cell phone cover was pink with @ designs on the bottom and a heart chat design <3, also referencing the “3 Vs.”  She grinned as she stared down at her phone. 

Valentino stared down at his phone as he looked at his text conversation with Angel Dust.

Valentino: “Did you get my money, Angie baby?”

Angel Dust: “I’m witta John now. I don’t get why this needed to happen so soon after the Extermination tho. Boss.”

Valentino: “Just do it. No sas. K sugar.”

Angel Dust: “Yes Val.”

Meanwhile near Cannibal Town, short demons with top hats and ladies’ hats feasted happily on the body of a demon woman wearing a white dress and a pink hat. Odette and Clara were Carmilla Carmine’s daughters. They collected angelic weapons for her to sell to demons. Odette wore a white lab coat and round red glasses. Her hair was in a white ponytail, and she had short horns on her head. Her skin was white, and she wore black gloves. She wrote notes down on her clipboard. Next to her was her sister, Clara, who pulled a third angelic spear from the corpse and carried them with a smile, following her sister. Her skin was brown, her hair white and curly, with black curved horns and red eyes. She had a black tank top, short gray shorts, white leggings, and black shoes.

The doors to a building were pink glass decorated with teal eyes. Rosie, a Mary Poppins lookalike Overlord grinned as she crossed out “Franklin” in white paint on a sign that read “Franklin and Rosie Emporium.” Rosie was a tall cannibal Overlord with white skin, light hair, black eyes, sharp teeth, and a long black neck. She wore a large pink ladies’ hat, decorated with skulls, dark flowers, and long black feathers hanging from the back. Her Victorian style dress was in many shades of pink and her hat had a Day of the Dead style to it.

Not too far away, a brown demon with a reddish beaked face and red eyes wore a bloodstained white apron. He ripped off a demon corpse head and tossed it into a shopping cart that he pushed. Next to him was a white-skinned demon with a gray top hat, pink bandana, and dark gray shirt, smoking a cigarette with his green hairy arms. A casino, bank, and a Devil’s Diner were nearby. A cat-like demon had a grinning green face in the middle of his chest as he walked in the background. Near a red-haired demon woman listening to music, a lavender Beetlejuice demon appeared in red smoke with a grin and a pinstriped shirt.

A muscular dark purple demon walked around with glowing red eye tattoos near a transparent walking stick demon, an eel demon in the air, and a tan-green bird demon caught in the talons of a dark bird demon with a large mouth like a Venus Fly Trap. More posters were nearby: “You Deserve THIS,” “Sin Means Death,” “Extermination Mandatory” and “Resist, Lilith in Concert.” On a building was a shadowy grinning figure of Roo, the secret Goddess controlling all of Hell. A glowing hourglass was in the center of the city and four large clock faces were in all directions above it. Looming Exorcist statues were at the top of the tower like gargoyles. The clock tower rang out as the number of days until the next Extermination changed to 365.

Back on the balcony, Charlie sang her lament as her hair blew in the wind and tears streaked down her face.

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

And to find it, how often I’ve tried.

But my life is a race

Just a wild goose chase

And my dreams have all been denied.”

“A ray of hope in this world of black

I wish the world to be free of sin.

But no matter hard I try

I can’t get by

I never seem to win.”

Charlie imagined her father’s stern silhouette behind her.

“Why have I always been a failure?

What can the reason be?

I wonder if the worlds to blame.

I wonder if it could be me.”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like my dreams

Ending in the sky.”

“Some fellows look and find the sunshine.

I always look and find the rain.

Some fellows make a winning sometimes.

I never even make a gain.

Believe me.”

“Will this world be a better place?

Or will loss never go away?

The choices I face, me, a disgrace.

Loss of hope here to stay.”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like my dreams

Ending in the sky.”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Waiting to find a little bluebird

In vain.”

Tears fell down her face.

0 0 0

The golden Heaven Embassy building towered over Charlie, gleaming gold like an out of place church. The stained-glass windows showed Christian Crosses and images of wheels with white wings and eyes. The doorknobs were shaped like bronze half suns. Even the fences were golden and shaped like Exorcist spears and eyes. The highest steeple was the clock tower with the large hourglass of glowing sand, the imposing Exorcist gargoyle statues up top, and the pentagram clockfaces.

Charlie opened the doors of the Heaven Embassy and peeked inside. She had persuaded her father to meet with the angels to talk about the Extermination. Taking a deep breath, she hoped it would go well.

“Hello?”

Charlie felt like she was in an abandoned church cathedral. The walls were lavender with Egyptian-style fan designs on it. Exorcist gargoyle-like statues protruded from the walls as well as smaller heads below. The windows on either side of the walls had Christian Crosses on them. A spiral glowing chandelier hung from the tall ceiling. The purple stained-glass windows ahead showed an Ophanim angel wheel with four wings shooting out nine rays into flames below. There were golden couches off to the side in rows.

“Hello?”

“Hellooo…?” Charlie began again, her voice echoing. “Creepy,” she muttered.

Charlie walked up to the front desk. She tapped a small golden bell to ring it. A golden scroll and a golden feather ink pen hovered in front of her. The glowing scroll read “Heaven Embassy, sign in.”

“Okay, also creepy,” Charlie added as she took the feather pen and signed it. The scroll and pen flew up and disappeared before two twin doors slid open.

Charlie walked into the dark room. The walls were light blue with larger Egyptian fan designs. A globe on a nearby stand had four wings on it. A blue round table had a green outline and several fan-shaped chairs around it.

“Uh…hello? Is anyone here?”

The lights suddenly switched on. “Sup,” came a voice.

“Holy shit!” Charlie cried in surprise, falling over backwards. She stood up, readjusting her hair and pose. Before her were three angels. The taller one was Adam. He was sitting in one of the chairs eating a piece of bloody rib with black hands. His masked face was black, his eyes yellow and his teeth yellow and sharp. He had two curved black horns with pointed gold tips at the bottom. A golden halo with a vertical point in the center was over his head. He wore a high collared white robe with golden sleeves and a gray “A” in the center of his outfit. The bottom of his robe was decorated with diamonds and a dark gray lower trim. His wings were large and golden, folded behind him.

Next to him was his lieutenant Lute, who stood cold and serious, hands folded behind her. She wore an LED mask with an X over the right eye. The horns were black and curved backwards in curls, with thin white stripes on them. Her short gray dress was stained with blood, as were her white/gray gloves and her long white metallic combat boots. Her wings were white with a black outline and two black stripes referencing her high military rank. The halo over her head was black with a black vertical point in the center.

The third angel had a glowing teal-white crown and large eyes all over her body. She was a tall silhouette that sat in a taller chair in the background. Charlie couldn’t make out her features, but Adam said she was his Seraphim boss, Sera. Sera’s younger sister was Emily, a more cheerful accepting Seraphim angel.

“Hi, um, I’m Charlie,” Charlie recovered. “My dad gave me permission to meet you guys…”

“Yeah, I know,” Adam replied, eating his rib like a buzzsaw, leaving the bone behind.

“Okay, well it’s nice to meet you,” said Charlie, holding out her hand.

“Totally. Nice to meet you, too,” Adam added, holding out his black arm. Charlie went over to shake it, but instead her hand passed through his holographic hand which glitched on and off. Charlie flinched back and gasped.

Adam leaned forward with a mischievous grin.  “Ha! I fucking got you!” He turned to Lute. “Did you fucking see that?” Lute nodded.

He turned back to Charlie. “Ha. Good shit.”

Sera shook her head.

Charlie held out her hands. “Uh…so, wait. You aren’t here?”

“No. You think I’d come down there?” He laughed. “No, I mean, I love the vibe, totally, I love your tunes.” He leaned in uncomfortably close and jabbed at her chest with his long finger. “Pretty fucking hardcore, don’t get me wrong. But it’s such a bummer, man. Everything down there is just so “eugh” ya know?” He chuckled. “Ew.”

Charlie brushed it off. “Right. So, I’m happy we’ve got this opportunity to meet. There’s a project that I’ve been working on that I really want to talk to you about…”

Adam put a finger to Charlie’s lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, slow down. We’ve got time. How about we get to know each other a little. Mmm.” He pointed his fingers forward, snapping them. “How about some lunch? You hungry? I got you.” He posed with two fingers forward. He held up a silver plate with the ribs on it. “Here’s my personal favorite. You’ll love it.”

“Uh…thanks,” Charlie said. She reached out to take a piece, but her hand passed through the hologram again, the ribs fizzing on and off.

Adam burst into laughter, pointing at her. “I got you again, bitch!” He laughed some more. “Fucking hilarious!” Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Enough games, Adam,” Sera reprimanded. “Let the princess speak.”

But before Charlie could talk about her project, she soon found herself sitting in boredom and annoyance as Adam boasted about his sex life and misogynistic talks. She propped up herself on her elbows as Adam talked.

“So, I was playin’ this gig, and for some fuckin’ reason, the Virtue chick was diggin’ on the drummer, and it’s like, ‘do you know who I am? I’m fuckin’ Adam. I’m the original dick!’” He pointed down to his penis.

‘Well, that’s one way of putting it,’ Charlie thought.

“All dicks descend from me. You think you want drummer dick?”

Lute shook her head.

“No way!” Adam declared. “I’m the dick-fuckin’ master!” He chewed on a piece of rib, enjoying it. He talked with his mouth full. “So, anyway, then we fucked and it was awesome. What’d you do this weekend?”

“Wait…your name is Adam?” Charlie asked. “Like the first man Adam? That means you…”

Charlie winced. “Oooh.” Adam being, well, a dick, was the reason why her mother Lilith had left him. She muttered, “That explains so much.”

Adam smirked. “I know. I fucking rock.” He did a horned rock gesture with his hand.

“Well, Adam, sir. Mr. Adam, sir…” Charlie began.

Adam smirked. “Call me Dickmaster.”

“Adam. You seem like a smart…well, stand-up guy.”

“Uh-huh,” Adam responded, picking his teeth.

“And I know you are the leader of the angels. And you are a big thinker, a revolutionary. A-a genius!”

Adam shrugged. “I mean, your words, babe.”

“Who would really love to put his name on something.”

“Fucking love putting my name on shit! Shit’s the best!” He banged both fists on the table. “You should’ve seen my latest single album. Hot as fire!” He briefly showed an album cover that showed art of himself using his penis to blow fire at a bunch of shadow demons as sexy female angels flew around him. “Dick-Re-Mastered” was in bold gold rocker font on the top. Charlie made a disgusted face, then recovered again.

“Well…your influence could be a solution to our biggest problem!” Charlie said.

“Oh, herpes. Yeah, that’s a bitch,” said Adam.

“No!” Charlie cried. “Our…other biggest problem.”

“Oh…uh…ugly people?” He briefly looked at the audience, eyebrow raised with a smirk. “Earth people are hideous.”

“Not that…” Charlie started.

“Math?” Adam asked. “Global warming? Nah, wait, that’s Earth’s problem. Ummm…”

Adam pondered some more. He soon ran out of ideas and began more sexist rambles. “When you take her out for the fifth time, and she still expects you to pay the check but you’re like…” He did a high-pitched voice, “’Hey, I thought you wanted equality!’”

The plate of ribs was finished in front of him.

“NO!” Charlie yelled in frustration. “You and your angels killing MY people in Hell!”

“Oooh,” Adam realized, chucking. “Well, that’s not a problem! We got that covered!” He turned to Lute. “How many demons did you kill this year?”

Lute marched forward, hands behind her back. “Got a good 275 this year, sir.”

Lute then flexed her arm muscles, a women’s “We Can Do It” gesture.

Adam was impressed. “275? Woah! Badass! Awesome job, Danger Tits! Pound it!”

Adam raised a fist and Lute did a Miraculous Ladybug fist-bump.

Charlie held out her hands, standing up. “Uh, no, not awesome. Those are my people, you know that, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Adam did a mock solemn prayer, hands folded together. “That must suck for you!” He burst into laughter.

“But these are souls…human souls just the same as the ones you have up in Heaven.”

“They are not the same,” Lute responded coldly. “They had their chance and they earned damnation.”

“You’re wrong,” Charlie argued. “Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes.”

“Angels don’t make mistakes,” Lute responded.

“You really think that?” Charlie asked.

“I know that,” she declared.

“But my dad Lucifer was an angel and he fell to Hell.”

“He was a traitor who abandoned his ways. Any traitor is just as bad as a Sinner and a demon.”

“Yeah, I’ve never made a mistake in my fuckin’ life!” Adam boasted.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did Lilith leave you? Your…cocky ego?”

Adam glared and let out a forced chuckle. “The sexy bitch couldn’t handle my demands, so she foolishly fled from me and caused sin to erupt, along with Eve and your bastard dad.”

Charlie’s eyes briefly flared red. “Well, at least she found someone truly worthy enough to call her husband.”

“Then let me ask you, babe, where is she now?”

Charlie froze, fear and despair in her eyes. The room slowly turned an ominous red.  Lute walked around the table near Charlie like a vulture. “The only reason you’re still here is because daddy gave you and your Hellborn kind a pardon from an Exorcist blade. How does that feel, to know how little you matter?”

Charlie’s face fell, soon at a loss for words.

Sera cleared her throat. “I know that what we do may seem harsh. But due to a malevolent influence in your world, there is a worry that too many demons will turn dark and spread to Heaven and Earth.”

“What influence?” Charlie asked.

“Not for me to say,” Sera responded, slightly nervous. “I don’t like the thought of your people suffering, but we had no choice. If Sinners continue to overpopulate your world, Hell will become unhabitable. And the dark one in Hell always needs to be properly feed…”

Sera then turned her head away, having already said too much.

Adam just smirked and said, “Oops, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it.” Charlie had a bad feeling that he wasted her time on purpose.

“Oh fuck!” Charlie gasped. She stood up and pushed a chair aside. “Okay, I’ve got a lot to get though and not a lot of time and I feel like you weren’t hearing me before, so here it goes.” She pulled out her papers and placed them on the table.

She coughed and talked fast almost in a song.

“I know Hell’s population is out of control.

It’s a bad situation.

It’s taking a toll.

If we rehab these Sinners

And cleanse all their souls

At my Happy Hotel…”

Charlie flipped through drawings she did on the papers: one of smiling stick-figure demons under a red pentagram. The next drawing showed the demons crowded together and frowning. The next showed the Hazbin Hotel with a rainbow in the sky and pink hearts.

Charlie rambled through her stack of papers, clearly nervous.

“Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself!”

“Right! Extermination!”

She held up another drawing of angels flying down with spears, killing demons on the ground.

“I know you guys fly down

Just to kill once a year

And it must be annoying

To schlep all the way here…”

“We have a portal for that,” deadpanned Lute.

Charlie continued, throwing her papers with a sparkly rainbow that briefly appeared behind an unimpressed Adam. Charlie held another drawing of angels and demons holding hands under a rainbow, stars, and more hearts.

“If they join you in Heaven

That trip disappears!

You can wave that chore farewell!”

She took a big breath of air.

“It’ll be a happy day in…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Adam interrupted in song, his palm out. Charlie rolled up her paper and flinched. “Oh.”

“Save us all precious time…”

“Okay…” Charlie began.

“If what you’re suggesting

Is letting them climb

Up the ladder,

Oh, they’d rather cross the Pearly Gates?”

“Well, uh…” Charlie started before Adam cut in.

“Sorry, sweetie. But there’s no defyin’ their fates!”

Adam jumped onto the table, knocking over the plate of ribs to the floor.

“’Cause Hell is forever

Whether you like it or not.

Had their chance to behave better

Now they boil in the pot!”

Charlie imagined flying toward the golden gates, only for her to be pulled backwards and tossed around in a bloody cauldron. Adam stirred it and screaming demons, blood, and organs spilled out. Adam tossed the gory contents out, Charlie screaming in the bloody stream.

“’Cause the rules are black and white

There’s no use in tryin’ to fight it.

They’re burnin’ for their lives

Until we kill them again!”

Adam turned white on one half of his face and black on his other half. Charlie tried to climb up the bloody pit full of dead demons, but Adam stood mockingly above her as Lute twirled her sword and knocked her down.

Charlie soon recovered from her awful imaginings.

“Okay, but…” Charlie tried again, tearing her paper in her hands. Adam continued.

“Just try to chillax, babe.

You’re wasting your breath.

Did I hear you imply

That they don’t deserve death?

Are they Winners?

Are they Sinners?

‘Cause it’s cut and dry.”

“Well, actually if you take a look…”

Adam interrupted her again. “Fair is fair, an eye for an eye!”

Adam zoomed up to the ceiling and a sphere of light appeared behind him.  Charlie fell to the floor.

“And when all’s said and done (Said and done)

There’s the question of fun (Fun)”

Adam stepped down onto five white cloud stairs as if he were royalty or a god.

“And for those of us with Divine Ordainment

Extermination is entertainment!”

Adam laughed as he summoned his golden guitar. The top was shaped like a harp and the bottom was golden and curved like a large harp. He laughed and danced as he made rock guitar noises. Lute flew around with Adam, dancing in the air.

“Bow-now-now-nowow, Guitar solo, fuck yeah! Oh-da-ah-ah-now-now-n-now-n-nownownowonow!”

“Ugh…” Charlie solely got up from the floor as Adam sang some more.

“’Cause Hell is forever

Whether you like it or not.”

Four golden mirages of Exorcists appeared around Adam. They danced and clapped and supported Adam like warrior back-up dancers.

Charlie stepped back in fear as they surrounded her, clapping to the song. “Where the Hell did you people come from?!”

“…Had their chance to become better

Now they boil in the pot.

‘Cause the rules are black and white

There’s no use in tryin’ to fight it.

They’re burnin’ for their lives

Until we kill them again!”

Adam and Lute did another fist-bump as they flew together in sync. Adam did a fast spiral twirl before strumming his golden light guitar hard, sending an explosion of energy across the room.

“Fuckin’ Hell’s forever

And it’s meant to suck a lot!

So, give up your dumb endeavor

‘Cause you don’t have a shot!”

Adam, Lute, and the golden Exorcists flew together in sync, smiling and mocking Charlie. Charlie growled in anger as her demon form briefly sprouted up: red eyes, sharp teeth, pointed horns from her head, burning the paper in her hands and waving her long blonde hair.

 “Long as I’ve got your attention

I guess I should probably mention…”

Adam summoned a golden wrapped up scroll in his hands and flew over to Charlie.

“That we made the determination

To move up the next Extermination!”

Adam opened up the scroll and it showed a drawing of Adam with the words “FUCK YOU I DO WHAT I WANT!”

“WHAT?!” Charlie screamed, not believing what she was hearing.

Adam grinned maliciously.

“Can’t wait a whole year

To slaughter those little cunts.

I know it’s just been a week

But we’ll be back in six months!”

To Charlie’s horror, Adam blasted her from the room, using the energy from his magic guitar. Lute winked and the papers flew out of the room with another blast from his guitar. Charlie crumpled onto the floor, papers flying everywhere in a mess.

Charlie stood up; hand outstretched in desperation.

Sera cleared her throat, glaring at Adam before turning to Charlie, still in shadow. “More Sinners are entering Hell, creating an imbalance to the realms. After listening to your…rather peculiar proposal, I am willing to give your hotel a chance. If you can prove that a Sinner can be redeemed in six months, I will cease the Exterminations.”

Adam groaned in disappointment.

Sera glared. “But if you fail…”

Sera stared sadly at Adam and Lute who made gestures of slicing demons’ throats.

“See you in six months, bitch!” Adam cackled, strumming his guitar. 

“Um, wait, you-you…”

Charlie raced toward the closing doors. Adam grinned as played a parting guitar solo. The doors closed before her, leaving her in darkness.

Charlie pounded her fist on the doors in defeat. “UGH, SHIT!”

0 0 0

Back in Hell, a dark blue demon with four arms and large red eyes screamed as he fell to the ground. He lifted himself up, rubbing his face and chest in relief.

“Oh! I’m alive! I’m alive!”

The demon was promptly run over by an oncoming car in a splatter of blood.

The car stopped and a tall white spider demon got out: Angel Dust. He wore tall dark boots, dark pink gloves, and a black collar around his neck. His suit was white with pink horizontal stripes, his shirt collar was dark pink, and he had a black bowtie with a pink center. His face was white and furry, and his eyes had dark pink irises. The left eye was black, and the right eye was white. His furry white hair was part of his face and was decorated with light pink spots and a pink heart at the back. He also had three pink dots under his eyes which were hidden eyes, a gold sharp tooth and four arms, hiding an extra pair.

Angel Dust leaned his arm on the door, slicking his hair back and smirking.

“Heh. Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff!” mused Travis from inside the car.

“Yeah, yeah, listen,” he said, closing the door and pointing at him. “It’s discrete, ya hear me?” He peeked his head through the open window. “I can’t let it get out I’m offerin’ my services to randos on the street.” He gestured with his fingers. “It was a quick cash grab, ya got it?” He smiled and snapped his fingers in a pose. Outside were various store signs: “Jackpot Hotel,” “Devil’s Diner,” “The Redroom Cocktails,” “Dentist,” “Pub – drugs here,” “Fossil’s Gas,” “Bonkoz Sex Toyz,” “Killer Club,” and “Hellish Delights.”

Travis scoffed. He was a gray hairy demon wearing a gray hat. He had long claws and one of his eyes was black with a red heart. “Whatever you say, slut!” He burst into laughter.

Angel Dust posed dramatically and spoke sarcastically. “Ouch! Oh, such an insult!”

He leaned in toward Travis, whose face fell.

“Let me know when you’ve come up with something creative to call me, you sack of poorly packaged horse shit!” He poked Travis on the nose.

“Tell the misses I said ‘hi’,” Angel Dust smirked. “Shnuckums!” He gave Travis a kiss and let go of his collar, moving his head back out the window.

Travis rolled up the window and grumbled as he drove off. “Poorly pack of…”

His car flipped over on its side and crashed in the distance.

Angel Dust glanced off to the side and spotted a store. A yellow door was there and a dark door with an upside-down Christian cross on it. There was a poster advertising a needle, and another poster that read, “Just a few miles away: Casino.”

Angel Dust’s eyes lit up as he spotted a red vending machine decorated with white dots labeled “drugs” in white letters.

Angel Dust glanced at the options: “Coke!”, “Bojack,” “McWeedies420,” “Squip,” “Hero-in,” “Krunchy Krokodile,” and “Angel Dust.” Angel Dust pressed the pink “Angel Dust” button and a white sack of drugs fell into the slot. He grinned and snatched it up. He greedily held it in his hands and was about to open it when another demon snatched it from him and ran off. He had a white face, horns, and wore a black hoodie.

“Yoink!”

“Hey!” Angel Dust yelled.

“Up yours, drag show!” mocked the running demon before he promptly got crushed by a falling boulder. Nearby were more signs: “Begg Slut,” “We couldn’t think of a pun for our shop, but we sell HARD DRUGS!”

“Oh my God!” Angel Dust exclaimed in horror. He picked up a piece of the sack, ignoring the twitching arm of the demon. He stared dejectedly at the piece in his hand. “My drugs! Dammit!”

Angel Dust then glared into the distance and spotted something in the red sky. It was a zeppelin warship that was firing blasts and explosive lasers, destroying several buildings. Magenta flames came out of one cannon and a laser beamed out from another, causing explosions in neon pink smoke.

Inside the ship, there were snake scale designs that decorated the windows. Yellow cabinets were decorated with pink eyes and another pink eye was on a gear on the wall. Sir Pentious icons lined the walls as well. Golden stairs leading up to the higher platform were on structures shaped like snakes. Minions scurried on the lower floor, the Egg Boiz. The eggs had two small black legs, small black arms, and wore gray pinstriped suits with vertical yellow lines, yellow undershirts, and black neckties. They also had small black top hats with a pink rim in the middle. Operating the control at the top was Sir Pentious himself. He was a serpent Overlord who had lived in London in the 1800s as an evil steampunk inventor. He had a dark gray face, sharp yellow fangs, and large pink eyes. His top hat was gray with a large pink eye and sharp yellow teeth of its own. He also wore a gray pinstriped suit with yellow lines, black gloves with pink fingertips, a black bowtie with a yellow center, a yellow undershirt and a pink eye in the middle. His hood was long and black, revealing a yellow interior and hypnotizing pink eyes when he opened it up. The lower part of his body was of a large serpent with black and yellow scales and more pink eyes.

Sir Pentious laughed manically at the controls.

“Those other cowardly Ssssinners dare not hinder my territorial takeover! A wise decision! The power of my machines are unmatched!” He pulled two levers forward and his hood opened. “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!”

“Gee! That was pretty swell, boss!” cheered Egg 23.

“Yeah!” chimed in Egg 666.

“You really showed them what for!” added a third Egg Boi, getting onto the controls, mimicking guns with his hands. “I liked when you shot them with your ray gun!” A fourth Egg Boi playfully rang his fingers alone Sir Pentious’ lower half. Sir Pentious angrily slapped the egg away.

“I wish he’d shoot me with his ray gun,” sighed Egg 23. Another egg patted him.

Sir Pentious rolled his eyes and continued, hood opening. “At this rate, I will seize control of the entire west side of the Pentagram by days end!” He pushed some buttons and looked at a red diagram with pentagrams on it. He pulled two levers toward him. “And nothing, not a single beast in this inferno of suffering will be able to take back this empire from my constrictive grasp!” He grinned as he squeezed another Egg Boi in his tail.  Another Egg Boi opened up a teal bottle of brown liquid whisky, the cork flying toward Sir Pentious’ face.

“Oh boy!” cheered another Egg Boi as Sir Pentious elbowed the Egg Boi holding the bottle away and tossed the squeezed Egg Boi aside.

“Hell will be mine! And everybody will know the name of Sir Pen…”

“EDGELORD!” interrupted a voice.

Sir Pentious and the Egg Boiz froze in shock. Sir Pentious then looked around. “Pardon?! Who said that?!”

He leaned down angrily at two Egg Boiz, offended.

“What did you just say to me you fried chicken fetuses?!” The Egg Boiz shook in fear.

“Ssspeak up!” Sir Pentious hissed.

“That wasn’t us, Mr. Bossman,” said one of the Egg Boiz.

Something fell through a large yellow glass window at the front of the ship. A pink round cherry bomb with a black skull on it flipped through the air and landed with a bounce onto the floor. Sir Pentious flinched in fear as the fuse burned down and the bomb blew up in red smoke. Sir Pentious coughed and hacked as the ship filled with crimson smoke and sparkles.

“You lookin’ for a fight, old man?!”

He looked up and spotted his rival, Cherri Bomb. She wore torn black pants and one high heel pink boot. She wore a short dark pink tank top with a black x on it, and a lower dark pink skirt with white buttons on it. She had a light gray and white long sleeve on her right arm with a light gray fingerless glove. She had a black fingerless glove on her left hand, which tossed another bomb up and down. Her skin was white with dark pink freckles. She had one large pink cyclops eye with a yellow x in the center and thick pink and yellow hair in a long ponytail. She had arrived in Hell in the 1980s.

She grinned with sharp teeth. “Why don’t you get that tinker toy bullshit off my turf before I smash it?!” She caught her bomb. A piece of dark pipe fell down to the floor onto a dead Egg Boi next to Cherri Bomb. “More,” she added with a grin.

Sir Pentious hissed, his hood opening. “Oh! You wanna go, missy?! Well, I’m happy to oblige! Ah ha ha!” He laughed evilly as Egg Boiz posed with tasers and wrenches in their hands next to him.

Cherri Bomb just scoffed. With graceful leaps, she avoided the blasts and threw down another bomb. She used the cover to escape, jumping down and swinging once from the anchor at the bottom of the ship. Landing gracefully on the ground, she continued her assault from below.

“Catch me if you can, snake man!” she taunted out loud.

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

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

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

“Why you little…”

Cherri Bomb ducked as another egg sailed over her head.

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

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

“Great to see you too, sweetie,” he replied.

Pink explosions filled the air as the fight continued.

“Hey, thanks for the backup, Angie!” Cherri Bomb smiled as she fired a flaming red blast from a metal cannon weapon toward Sir Pentious.

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

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

A pink explosion rocked the streets.

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

“Oh, I wish,” Angel Dust remarked as he lit another fuse and handed the bomb to his ally. “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some broads are lettin’ me stay rent-free if I play nice.”

Cherri Bomb threw her bomb, then ducked beside Angel Dust behind the rock. They both covered their ears. A column of green smoke rose into the air with a fiery whoosh. The duo leaped over the rock and charged at the army of egg minions. Using four arms, Angel Dust fired rapidly from a tommy gun at the minions, making some of them explode.

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

Angel Dust tripped an unsuspecting minion, sending him into the air and exploding in a yellow yolk mess. Angel Dust waved a spiked club and continued firing his gun, his shadow silhouette briefly behind him. A pot shop stood in the background, with marijuana leaves near the sign.

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

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

Angel Dust scooped up yolk with his pink gloved finger. “Well, sorta clean.” He smashed apart another egg minion with his club. “As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder.” Angel Dust’s shadowy silhouette displayed sharp fangs as Cherri Bomb posed in the background. A sign read “50% off meth,” above a small supermarket.

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

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

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

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

Cherri Bomb rushed into action, landing a sharp kick to Sir Pentious’ back. The snake landed on the ground, then hissed threateningly. He stood up in anger.

“You whores have no class!” he exclaimed. “In war, the side remembered is the side with the most…style.” He sprung his bowtie in emphasis.

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

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

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

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

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

He and Cherri Bomb burst into laughter. A pink “loser” sign pointed at the oblivious villain snake. “Ooooh,” said a minion near him. “One hellish burn.” The snake slapped the egg with his hand.

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

“Hmmm! Kinky!” Angel Dust teased with a smirk.

“Not like that! Pervert!” Sir Pentious retorted, pointing a finger. Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust held in laughter.

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

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

Sir Pentious grinned, leaning in. “Not so cocky now, are we?”

“Y’know, you really need to watch what’s coming out of your mouth,” Angel Dust remarked. “I’ve been making sex jokes this whole time!” A drill poked out from the ground, Angel Dust barely avoiding it. A minion held a drill in his small hands at Angel Dust. Two extra arms popped out from Angel Dust’s body, holding his rifle.

“And it’s obvious you ain’t catching on,” Angel Dust said, cocking his gun. “I mean, it’s just…sad!”

The spider jumped into the air, freeing himself and firing the gun. The blast hit Sir Pentious and his gray top hat fell off. Angel Dust flipped him the bird.

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

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

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

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

“You know it, sugar tits,” Angel Dust replied with a playful grin.

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

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

The duo charged at Sir Pentious. Cherri Bomb sang, “Hello, daddy. Hello mom. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Hello world! I’m your wild girl. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!” Everyone yelled.

0 0 0

Transcript during the 666 News broadcast:

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

A neon logo appeared on the screen, displaying “666 News” in a circle with a neon eye underneath. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen. A skeletal, insect-like demon woman with short blonde hair and a large toothy grin sat wearing a dark pink fancy dress and a pearl necklace. Sitting in the other chair, dressed in a blue-gray business suit was a demon with a gray gas mask for a face along with short light blonde hair. They were live on the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’d sure like to nail her hot spot!” Tom Trench remarked.

Katie Killjoy chuckled forcefully. “You’re a limp dick jackass, Tom. Or should I say…”

Adding insult to injury, she poured hot coffee over his crotch. “No dick!” Tom Trench moaned and flinched in pain. “Augh! Not again!”

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

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

Tom Trench winced in pain on the desk.

“All that and more after the break!” Katie Killjoy finished, breaking the white mug in her hand. She whirled toward Tom Trench with a scowl. “Suck it up you little bitch…”

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

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

Vaggie was Charlie’s girlfriend, a former El Salvadorian Sinner who lived on Earth and died in 2014. Charlie had found her with a missing eye, so she bandaged her up and took her in. Vaggie had been thankful and loyal ever since. Her face was light gray, and her right eye was cream colored with a yellow iris and a black pupil. Her other eye was covered by her grayish-white hair and a pink X. She wore a black collar around her neck and a short white dress with two gray Xs over her breasts. A pink bow was in her long hair, the ends of her hair resembling moth wings. She wore pastel leggings, her right one gray, her left one gray with pink stripes. Her shoes were black, and she also wore gray fingerless gloves.

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

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

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

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

Charlie walked over to the pitcher of red punch, where her flying doll-like goat bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle bodyguards were eating donuts. “I just feel like we need to…I don’t know, make things sound more exciting…”

She tossed a donut aside before gasping.

“Oh! What if I…”

“Sing a song about it?” Vaggie finished.

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

Vaggie chuckled before adjusting Charlie’s bowtie again and shook her shoulders. “Because I know you. But please don’t sing. This is serious.” She pounded her fist into her hand.

Charlie snapped her fingers and briefly winked. “Well, you know, I find I’m better at expressing my goals through song!” She stood on the table and arched her arms dramatically.

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

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

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

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

“The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vaggie suspected that this would not end well.

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

“Hi! I’m Charlie.”

She waved and held out her hand.

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

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

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

Katie Killjoy mentioned to a billboard that showed a blonde man wearing glasses holding up a platter with meat, poop, and a skull on it. “It’s Dahn Good: Cooking Show! Guaranteed Cannibalious!” read the sign. The man had been a serial killer who had also molested boys. “Who approved this show?” was on a sticky note nearby.

Tom Trench shook his head in his seat. “Sex! Murder! Weather!” were displayed on a column of three smaller signs.

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

“But I…” Charlie began.

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

“And we’re live!” said a voice.

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

“Welcome back!”

Charlie sat in a chair next to her.

“So, Charlotte…”

“It’s Charlie,” she squeaked.

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

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

Charlie took a deep breath, her voice soft spoken.

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

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

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

Vaggie gave her a thumbs up and a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

The audience stared in stunned silence as Charlie spread out her arms.

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

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

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

A tattooed dark blue reptile demon stood up and let out a loud laugh as Charlie babbled on.

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

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

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

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

The man smiled and tilted his head a notch as he watched the TV with curiosity and amusement. His shadow next to him briefly morphed into a shadowy face with fluffy ears and antlers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a wonderful, fantastic new hotel

Yes, it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to a specific clientele!”

Razzle and Dazzle howled along…

The tempo rapidly picked up…

“Inside of every demon is a rainbow!

Inside every sinner is a shiny smile!

Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac

Is a jolly, happy cupcake-loving child!”

“We can turn around!

They’ll be heaven-bound!

With just a little time

Down at the Happy Hotel!”

“So all you junkies, freaks and weirdos

Creepers, fuck-ups, crooks, and zeroes

And the fallen superheroes, help is here!

All of you cretins, sluts and losers

Sexual deviants and boozers

And prescription drug abusers

Need not fear!

Forever again

We’ll cure your sin!

We’ll make you well

You’ll feel so swell

Right here in Hell at the Happy Hotel!”

“There’ll be no more fire

And there’ll be no more screams.

Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams,

And puffy-wuffy clouds

You’re gonna be all like, wow!

Once you check in with me!”

“So all your cartoon porn addictions

Vegan rants, psychic predictions

Ancient Roman crucifixions

End right here!”

“All you monsters, thieves and crazies

Cannibals and crying babies

Frothing mouthers full of rabies

Fill with cheer!”

“You’ll be complete!

It’ll be so neat!

Our service can’t be beat!

You’ll be on easy street! (Yes!)

Life will be sweet at the Happy Hotel!

Yeah!”

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

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

Snatching a “my waifu” and porn magazine of out a demon’s hands…

Throwing away demon’s cell phones…

Knocking over crosses…

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

Giving demons big hugs…

Charlie emerging in her horned demon form from a flaming pentagram and jumping with joy in a land full of candy, rainbows, and ice cream. Spinning around in a fiery pentagram under her and posing in front of a rainbow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, just someone named…Angel Dust.”

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

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

Someone wolf-whistled in the audience.

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

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

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

“Oh shit,” Charlie breathed.

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

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

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

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

“Ratings!” they added with jazz hands.

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

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

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

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

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

Tom Trench leaped out of the way.

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

Charlie eventually ran out of the newsroom, Katie Killjoy following close behind, as everyone yelled.

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

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