#i am a grown man i am not bound by the rules of society do not tell mother | benedict bridgerton

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

❝ who did you insult this time ? ❞ (from penelope)

"Oh now that isn't fair, I'm charming" and he wasn't sure that he even knew the woman. "Well, I might have inadvertently insulted someone, but that isn't the point" though why a random stranger thought he would be insulting anyone he really didn't know. Was it just a look that he had? Probably something he needed to work on.

@seccndchances

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

"Always. There's always something that seems to get missed unless you're looking at someone face to face" that he did know, even the best artists couldn't always capture everything. And a photo... well it was true to life, but only the life that people wanted others to see, nothing more and nothing less.

"Objectively there's nothing wrong with a photo. Besides, do I look like someone who has ever taken a bad photo" he joked, although he was vain enough to believe that anyway. "But they don't compare to portraits" or he was getting pretentious, one or the other, he wasn't sure he wanted to figure that one out. "Bit of advice from someone who's had to get out of trouble with a very suspicious sister, tends to work better if you don't bring attention for the thing you've actually done. No one immediately thinks of wanted posters".

"Well of course the real deal is better!" There was no doubt of that, and Flynn appreciated the compliment. But obviously his real face could not be slapped on posters all over the place, so a photo would be the next best thing. "But sometimes we do have to compromise, unfortunately." He did not like photos? How could you not like something that created such a perfect likeness? "You don't? How come? Did you get one taken when you were having a bad hair day?" He had plenty of stories about the exploits which had earned him a place on a wanted poster, and though Flynn did like to brag, even he realized it was not a good idea to share those stories with a stranger. "Oh, yeah, of course! But I'd have to make them all up, because, you know, I'm definitely not on any wanted posters anywhere."

[sketching-shark]

Okay so I’ve now seen multiple posts arguing about whether Clytemnestra of The Oresteia fame is one of the world’s first girlbosses or just a power-hungry monster, but personally (and keep in mind that this is my impression after just reading Agamemnon) i think there’s something more interesting and horrifying on a society-wide scale going on with her.

Because right after she murders Agamemnon and the chorus reacts by saying she’s done an “evil thing” and will “go homeless now/crushed with men’s bitterness,” she responds with:

“Now it is I you doom to be cast out from my city

with men’s hate heaped and curses roaring in my ears.

Yet look upon this dead man; you would not cross him once

when with no thought more than as if a beast had died,

when he ranged pastures swarmed with the deep fleece of flocks,

he slaughtered like a victim his own child, my pain

grown into love, to charm away with winds of Thrace.

Were you not bound to hunt him then clear of this soil

for the guilt stained upon him?

Yet you hear what I have done, and lo, you are a stern judge. But I say to you:

go on and threaten me, but know that I am ready,

if fairly you can beat me down beneath your hand,

for you to rule; but if the god grant otherwise,

you shall be taught--too late, for sure--to keep your place.”

So in other words, one of her main reasons for killing Agamemnon was for killing her daughter, but it also seems that somewhere along the way she became convinced that any claimed adherence to justice, morality, honor, and even love were complete bullshit, that the only thing which mattered was how you could wield raw power to get what you wanted. And in the context of Agamemnon, you can understand why she would come to think this. Agamemnon, after all, was a lauded king even though he had murdered his own daughter so that he could go wage war against Troy, he does in fact put this entire city to the sword (and goddamn do a lot of works go into the minute brutality of that slaughter), and his entire household runs on slavery, with him bringing back even more enslaved people from Troy. And in the eyes of their society, all of this is understood as completely fine and good, or at least something that shouldn’t be challenged.

So if Troy and its people were destroyed because Menelaus was pissed at Paris, why shouldn’t Clytemnestra kill Agamemnon because she’s pissed at him? If it’s okay for a king to spend ten years waging war, why not kill one’s husband and take his throne? If we’re working in a social system that ultimately always falls back on a “might makes right” way of organizing itself no matter how much human pain and death may be the result, why not take power however you can and then tell anyone who objects that you’ll kill them too if they step out of line? And who even has the right to act like you’re in the wrong when they made it clear they were perfectly fine with so many other atrocities?

So no, Clytemnestra is not a good person. While I haven’t read it yet, my understanding is that she acts in more and more monstrous ways throughout the other plays she’s in, even going so far as to continually abuse her surviving daughter Electra. But her individual monstrous actions also seem to be the direct result of her concluding that the fine sentiments others claim to be acting upon are nothing more than a tissue-thin veneer for their own greed and lust for power, and that she at least wasn’t going to pretend that hers weren’t.

The Oresteia is a trilogy of tragedies, but I do think it’s one that’s made even more discomfiting by the idea that this was tragedy produced just as much by the allowances of society as the individual actions of its characters.

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

Ever since the murder, this town had become a lot more entertaining. It hadn't bothered him too much, no pesky memories, and so far no one had claimed to know him from some other life. He just got to listen to the most ridiculous stories, and honestly he wouldn't have it any other way. Apart from the fact he was struggling to paint anything these days. Hearing someone come up he didn't really look up, more looking at the current failure which had meant to be the lake, but seemed to have come out as a sad puddle. "You can have it if you want, else I might turn it into a dartboard".

@ivycovestarters

[ronyj1988]

The strings that bind us

“I am capable of the amazing” Why do I have to prove myself to the world? When it is the world that should fear me. I in my short period on earth have learn mostly the cruelty of man. I can’t hide away from it, its all around me. Discrimination, poverty, socio-economic gap, socio-cultural prejudice etc. I see a world bound by strings.

Back in the not so distant past, there were slaves. Slaves had chains around their hands, ankles and sometimes necks. The slaves obeyed their master and was only rewarded by their master. They lived in fear and loathing. They were off poor spirit. Later on, slavery was abolished. But my question is, then why is it that we still have such disparity in our society? The chains are no more but they still live as if the chains still exist.

What the ruling elite or the powerful have found out is that not to put chains on our body but put the chains on our minds. Now the chains are invisible to the human man. By dictating to them what to see, what to think, the rules that govern them, the ideas, theories and socio economic and cultural bonds that they put upon the mind of the innocent (for lack of a better word) are the chains that bound them to their reality. These are the strings that bind us. For example, the rulers of India oppressed the people by controlling knowledge. They held vital knowledge to themselves, created laws that are favorable to themselves, and propagated the idea that black is bad. This caste system and physical discrimination of the poor mostly Dravidian community have held and stunted the growth of the minorities of India for generations and thus the innocent have grown with complexes and discrimination which have left a mark on their psyche. If by the simple realization that one is powerful on his own strength so given by GOD and the belief in his own ability, that he not only is capable and that the reality is squid against him, would be enough to break the strings that bind him. The belief in oneself and the desire to uplift himself from an unjust world that looks to enslave him and the realization that the chains are not on his body but in his mind is enough to make a man reach his true potential and become a king in his own regard. Awaken my fellow man. If you say, or they let you to believe that you are only capable of x then you will only be capable of x-1. The law of diminishing returns still applies.

So fellow mortals I say, don’t be put to the sword by lies and words of rulers or people who don’t believe in you. Believe in yourself when all man doubts you. Prove all wrong and fight for what you believe you deserve. I live by the knowledge that I am all powerful I can achieve anything and I will achieve everything I set out for, as GOD as my witness and GOD willing. It is not where I’m from, its where I’m going.

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

"You mean with people telling you that you aren't who you know you are?" he could live with that. The problem was his sons ended up being involved, and that was where he drew the line. "I can't see us agreeing with that one".

"the whole town has been very strange lately," anthony mused. ever since the mayor died. but he was sure everyone felt the same. it was still odd that they looked so simaliar. but anthony shook it off. "it is," he said with a chuckle.

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[recurring-polynya]

POLYNYA please tell me about the sea/your Soul Society sea(s)!!!!! (I also wanna talk about the sizes of things but I will save that for later, haha.)

My entire writing/worldbuilding self is just an agglomerate of about 10 different books/comics I read when I was 19, and one of those is Books of Magic. The major thing I took away from Books of Magic, a thing I think about every single time I read or watch something with a magic system, is the idea that humans have their own magic which is fundamentally different and in some ways more powerful than the magic of magical beings, and that they aren’t bound to a lot of rules and restrictions that magical beings are. A lot of media that features other worlds tends to split into the human world (which has no magic) and the magic world (which has magic). Sometimes the human world has technology and the magic world doesn't, I don't care, that is boring to me and I reject the idea that magic is technology you don’t understand. The thing about Books of Magic, which featured a lot of traffic between the human and the faerie realm, was that humans can do magic that faeries can't. Faerie magic is all illusion and glamour. It cannot affect real change. It is much harder for humans to do real magic, but their magic can actually transform things.

This is foundationally the way I approach worldbuilding in Soul Society. It seems like Soul Society is more powerful and magical than the World of the Living, but that’s only true for a limited set of circumstances, and much of Bleach takes place within those circumstances. Taken in a broader sense, though, Soul Society is not a complete world, it is a projected world, constructed of memories and ideas. Hueco Mundo is the same, but it's even less complete. My husband always gets really irritated by physically impossible moons, like this one:

but I actually think that's appropriate, because it's not the moon, it's the concept of the moon and this is a very romanticized concept of the moon. You cannot build a rocket in Soul Society or Hueco Mundo and get to the moon. The earth is not round in Soul Society. Its borders are limited.

What is Soul Society even for, anyway? I have been watching Hotel del Luna, a kdrama about a hotel where ghosts can stay for a little while and rest and work out some of their issues before they go to the afterlife. I feel like Soul Society is the next step after this. It is too big a shock to go from being a human to becoming a few motes of reishi, so you get another stage of retaining your human form and living a half-life where you don't need to eat or drink and your family has the idea of being a family without all the actual past-to-future connective tissue of a family. It's my impression that when you die in Soul Society, you don't get reincarnated as yourself. You become reishi, and that reishi gets mixed up with everyone else’s and new souls are created when new human children are born. Soul Society is also a sorting mechanism for separating out powerful sources of spiritual energy (that is, shinigami) and putting them to work as balancers, while letting the less volatile soulstuff flow through the reincarnation cycle without cavitating the impellers, so to speak.

That being said, seas are important. I have lived my entire life on the east coast of North America, never more than a few hours from the Atlantic Ocean. I think about moving inland sometimes and I think I would die. My husband grew up in the mountains and he feels a similar connection to the mountains, you can feel him becoming more powerful every time we drive north. I think it is necessary that Soul Society contain the geographic features that anchor people to the physical world, because ghosts need these things to feel as though they are still people and not vague amorphous spirits.

You need a sea. Also, as noted in the post that inspired this one, people in Soul Society eat a lot of fish and it’s gotta come from somewhere. So I think there is at least one sea in Soul Society (I like to put it in East Rukongai), but this is a sea built on human memories, it is not a sea based on the power of the sea, because that is not a thing that can exist in Soul Society. You can fish in the sea and you can swim in the sea, and an ocean god visiting from another realm might be able to pull a little power from this sea, but it is not a true sea. You need a different magical realm for that, a Sea Society, if you will. The Living World, in contrast, is a true world with true oceans, which draw their power from the Sea Society, just as there is death in the Living World because of its connections to Soul Society and other assorted afterlives. (it has been 2 sentences and I am already sorry I called it Sea Society).

Earlier, I mentioned that the borders of Soul Society are limited, and I think that it is surrounded by impassable no-man’s-lands on all sides that, if you could cross them, would lead you into a different dimension. This is not my original idea, it’s something I have picked up from numerous fanfics, but I think it’s a good one and I am adopting it. I think that, as a border between Soul Society and something else, each of these borderlands represents different kinds of death. I think I’ve figured they are a jungle, a desert, a mountain and, of course, an ocean. 

The power of the ocean encompasses both life and death, but this ocean or at least this part of this ocean is only death. It is cold and it is dark and it is full of things with horrible teeth. If you sail a boat into it, you will not come back. I do not think that dimensional borders are, well, two-dimensional, so to speak-- if you could somehow cross this ocean, you might end up in Sea Society, or you might end up in some other death realm, because a lot of afterlives are connected and you get to a lot of them via waterways. The Slavic afterlife, Nav, for example, is ringed with a river, and you cross the Styx to get to Hades. Come to think of it, both of these are sometimes portrayed as being full of unhappy spirits, so maybe the death ocean is an afterlife in and of itself.

This is a little off the topic of oceans, but it is on the topic of natural resources. For all we know, everything that everyone eats in the Seireitei is grown in reishi vats, like the chickienobs in Oryx and Crake. That actually makes more sense, honestly, than fishing and farming, but I have always assumed that many of the upper districts of Rukongai do, in fact, have Nice Things, which turns into jobs and commerce and an improved class of life. The quality and quantity of these resources thins out severely as you go outward. Why don't people in Inuzuri grow their own food, I asked myself? Well: poor soil. Unpredictable, violent weather, so if you can get anything to come up, it either bakes or drowns. A general miasma of low-grade toxins in the air that tend to stunt growth or prevent things from breeding true. Obviously, I think about South Rukongai more than I think of other directions, but I think it’s easy to imagine this process also working as you approached cold rocky mountains with cutting winds and rockslides, or dry, dusty desert where it never rains.

The canon concept of Soul Society is that everything in Rukongai sucks and everything in the Seireitei rules, but this honestly vexes me constantly. It must be ungodly expensive to own and maintain property in the Seireitei, which is why most of the shinigami seem to lead solidly middle class lifestyles and take advantage of on-base living arrangements even though they are allegedly the best of the best. If you're a noble, and especially not Great Family noble, I think it may make sense to maintain a large estate in a pretty part of Rukongai as opposed to a townhouse in the city-- I've mentioned the Kira family estate before, in North Rukongai, which, in my mind, is sort of overgrown and run-down, very Wuthering Heights. Alternatively, if you are super-rich, maybe you have a second property out somewhere nice, hence the Lake District. Did I just make these places up because I want to set a fanfic there someday? Probably yes. 

When I was writing Between Tides, the most basic, raw part of that story was just "Rukia and Renji get sent on a lonely mission near the sea" that was the thing I wanted to write. Back when it lived in my head, it originally took place in Soul Society, but I wanted it to have a melancholy, tourist-town-in-the-off-season vibe, and that didn’t feel like a place that would exist in Soul Society, so I moved it to the World of the Living. I guess I feel like if there’s beach tourism at the Soul Society Sea (I should name it but then I would be forced to write a story about it), it would be sort of Old Timey, and I’d don’t know much about what an Old Timey Trip to the Beach would look like in Japan, if that’s even a thing.

Anyway, sorry this was so rambling, this concludes my thoughts about THE SEA in Soul Society. I am happy to hear everyone else’s headcanons, please and thank you.

[oss-crime]

Chapter 5-Escape of the Witch Salmhofer; Scene 8

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 202-209

Ever since Gammon’s revolt, an uneasy political situation had carried on in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

The members of the senate were comprised of the heads of the twelve families that ruled over each town—that had been the standard procedure. But Gammon had decided to repeal this and dismiss each of the present members, starting with his father.

However, this caused great deal of backlash. Fearing it would reignite the fires of conflict anew, Gammon established a meeting with the twelve families, and ultimately decided to make the sons of each family into the new senate members.

Due to this, the new senate wound up being comprised largely of young people in their twenties.

Gammon made public that the queen had been in a brainwashed state by Miroku for many years.

“From now on I vow to return to the proper governmental system with the queen at its core.”

Gammon’s decree had relieved the people.

On the other hand, around this point much of the populace had also learned of the queen’s prophecy that foretold the world’s destruction.

As anxieties about this matter began to spread, the new senate headed by Gammon decided to revive Project “Ma”—

.

“—And I’m the one who has been ordered to take responsibility for it…Me, Seth Twiright.”

They were in a room in the Royal Research Institute.

Seth had explained all this to Meta, who was herself seated in a chair.

Outside the room she could hear several people walking about. They were all researchers that Seth had newly hired on, but their true identity was that of the government’s information bureau.

In other words, they were guards there to keep Meta from escaping.

“…So then, when these children are born—” Meta patted her belly, which had grown larger. “You’re saying I’ll become the next queen?”

But Seth sadly shook his head at her question.

“The details of the second Project ‘Ma’ are slightly altered from the previous one…The ‘mother of the gods’ will be able to achieve a sizable reward and commensurate status—but the position of queen will still be performed by Alice Merry-Go-Round.”

“…So the ‘mother of the gods’…only exists to give birth to the ‘Twins of God’.”

“If we didn’t have it that way, the senate would never have given permission for you, a non-virgin, to be fertilized with the ‘Seed of God’, yes?”

But Meta had qualified as an “Ma” candidate back in the first project as well. When she asked Seth about that, he explained with a shrug of his shoulders, “Back then the government still hadn’t obtained any conclusive proof of your and Pale’s relationship.”

“That’s surprisingly sloppy of the government.”

“It’s an issue of them not having a sense of the impending crisis. There’s still a few decades before the time of the destruction—the ‘Gear of Twilight’. For most people, it’s the many issues that are more immediately in front of them that take priority.”

“…”

“But that’s not so for Gammon. He has met with the queen personally—and most likely came into contact with the ‘truth’. Though I don’t know the specific contents of it. At any rate, he has privately become quite desperate to stop the world’s destruction. To the point where he is no longer concerned with keeping up appearances.”

So then…that was the reason why he was seeking an “Ma” candidate that was magically strong, regardless of whether or not they were a criminal.

Meta had already had a “Seed of God” implanted in her stomach by Seth.

She had become pregnant soon after, and started to live hidden away from the world in the royal research institute.

The people most likely had not been made aware of the fact that it was Meta who bore the “Twins of God”.  If it got out that the “Witch of Merrigod” were the “Mother of the Gods”, there’s no way there wouldn’t be an uproar about it.

In all likelihood, once the “Twins of God” were born that fact would be made public by Gammon, and they would be accepted into the populace with great celebration.

But Meta herself—

I’ll be forced to change my name and live as someone else…I suppose that would be preferable. There’s always a chance they’ll kill me to shut me up.

As far as society was concerned, Meta had already been executed in Lighwatch temple.

At the very least, the current government wasn’t a monolith. She could determine that from how Seth had gone out of his way to pull off such a trick to save her (though she didn’t know if it was something he had done on his own or if Gammon had ordered him to). If Yegor had been in on it, there wouldn’t have been any need to fake her death like that.

Though Seth had promised Meta’s safety, there was no guarantee that others would feel similarly.

And Meta didn’t even trust Seth to start with.

The reason why she was still cooperating with him regardless—

“…Hey. Is Pale okay? I wanna see him.”

She had posed this question to Seth several times before.

Each time she did he would dodge the question—

But today was different.

“Relax. I’m a man of my word.”

“Then—”

“Just like you, Pale Noel was executed publicly. But—”

“—He’s actually still alive. …Did you use the same methods as with me?”

“No. I examined him while in prison as a doctor, and…it seemed that Pale’s body had developed some defects. –He can’t maintain his own body without absorbing magical energy from other people.”

Meta had known that already.

But where was he going with this?

“Couldn’t you just…do something about that when he got out of prison?”

“That wouldn’t work. It was my estimation that as he was, Pale wouldn’t have much longer to live. …So I figured this was a good time to have him swap bodies.”

“I…don’t understand what you mean.”

“In that case—I should probably have you see for yourself.” Seth clapped his hands. “Enter.”

On cue the door opened, and a boy entered the room.

“Who’s this kid?” Meta asked.

The one to answer was not Seth, but the boy himself.

“Long time no see, Meta…It’s me, Pale.”

“…Wha?”

Obviously, the Pale that Meta knew wasn’t a boy like this, but an adult man.

But…now that she looked at him properly, his features did seem to resemble Pale’s somewhat.

“Er…So you mean…”

“You must be confused. But—it’s okay. I’ll take this opportunity to explain it all to you.” Pale turned to Seth. “I assume you don’t mind…Brother.”

Seth nodded wordlessly.

Once he’d seen that, Pale turned back to Meta.

“I—am a ‘ghoul child’.”

“…Ghoul child?”

“An artificial human created inside a beaker. My body and personality were all constructed by Seth.”

“You…expect me to believe such a crazy story?”

Pale pointed to Meta’s belly as she drew in her shoulders.

“It’s sort of like—the twins inside your stomach. The only difference is that their mother is a human woman instead of a glass vessel…that’s all it is.”

“…”

Certainly…on the point that they weren’t created by natural intercourse between a man and woman but rather an experiment of Seth’s—

They were the same.

Pale leaned against the wall, and continued his explanation.

“For some time now, Horus—or rather, Seth—has been performing research into the artificial construction of life to make the ‘Next Queen Project’ a reality. The construction of ‘ghoul children’…like myself…could be called a subspecies, or variant, of that.”

“…”

Meta silently listened to him speak, her hands resting on her expanded belly.

This boy’s way of speaking was the same as Pale’s that she knew so well.

“—Though it hasn’t been as simple as all that. Ever since I became an adult, I came to be afflicted with a problem of magical energy…Though that was better than the alternative. The ‘ghoul child’ made after me was just kept in storage as an empty shell, without a personality.”

Pale said that the body he was currently using was recycled from that “empty shell” that had been kept in storage.

“It took quite a bit of time to get my spirit affixed to this body…So we weren’t able to meet like this until now.”

“…You…knew all of this before?”

“Yeah. That’s why I…once ordered you to kill my brother. I had thought—that if I could get rid of the original of me, “Seth”, then I would become the “real” one.”

“Pale…My beloved Pale…My poor Pale…”

Meta stood and walked over to Pale, crouching down and embracing her love.

“…”

Pale looked over at Seth, his short arms around Meta’s back.

“Brother—Could you let me speak to Meta alone for a little bit?”

“…Ah, very well. I’m not so boorish as to get in the way of a lover’s meeting.”

Seth nodded and left the room, humming to himself.

.

--For a short while, the two of them continued to hold each other without a word.

Eventually, Pale whispered to Meta, “Meta…Let’s run away.”

“…!?”

“I can survive like this. There’s…no need for you to do as Seth says.”

“But—”

Meta looked down.

She was looking at her own belly, where her twins resided.

Pale nodded in understanding.

“—That’s right. It’ll be hard to escape with your body heavy with child. When you’re stable after the birth, I’ll…create a diversion. You’ll have to be patient until then.”

“…Alright, I understand.”

“Apocalypse is on the brink of destruction. But as long as we’re together…we can start over again.” Pale pulled away from Meta. “I’ll have to be going home soon.”

“…Where are you living now?”

“Seth’s house. Publicly, I’m his nephew.”

When Pale opened the door, Seth was waiting there to greet him.

“Are you done talking? Then let’s get going.”

Thus prompted, Pale left with Seth.

It almost seemed to Meta as though his limbs were bound with a thin string tied to Seth’s finger.  

<<prev------directory------next>>

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

"What is the gossip?" not that he really cared that much about it, other people's opinions were none of his business. He supposed it was simply that he wanted to know what was being said about him. Or maybe that wasn't the case, maybe it was more that he wanted to know what she thought was true about him. Likely it was just because she was attractive and he'd never been one to walk away from a beautiful woman. But there was something else, something in the back of his mind that he wanted to know exactly what it was she thought about him, like her opinion of him was the only one that would ever matter.

That hadn't been what he expected her to say. "Who said I had children?" he asked, it definitely wasn't one of the most known facts about him, so why it would have come up he didn't know. He loved his sons, more than life itself, he just wanted to keep them safe. "Now it seems you are doubting my ability?" he asked, wondering if that was the case, or she was simply goading him into it. Interesting.

Being elusive wasn't the best plan she's ever mustered but seeing him with her own eyes changed everything. She should've known he was critical about almost everything. The painter within him couldn't handle anything less. That's merely one of the many reasons she allowed her heart to accept him. Though looking back, it is now irony that she will be the one to follow after him now. Physically he had not changed, a shadowed vestige of her husband. Her smile lowering as she realized the hard truth finally presented, she must meet the man he has become. Freely admitting, " Evidently, I shall reconsider the gossip. You are different from what I expected. "

A silent plea within her gaze, an unanswered question that she hadn't deigned to find the negatives. If it were false, her world would crumble. " I'm sure your boys were your first students. I would hope they take after their father. " taking a wild guess into the wind. She wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall for her lack of subtlety. Their boys had to be with him, there's no other option that would be suitable. " Neither have I. Which is why I wish to try my hand at art. I suppose, if the task is too great, there are other artists in town I shall ask. "

[songtoyou]

Chapter 1: The Pope, The Rabbi, and The Gypsy

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 1,795

Warnings: Talks of sexual content.

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

A/N: I was very pleased with the positive reaction to the prologue of this fic. I am glad that some of you are liking it. For this chapter, we learn a little more about the OC, and how she will meet Tommy. We also learn about the owners and some of Excelsior's clientele, the secret exclusive club in downtown London. Tommy looks for a new girl now that Lizzie is gone. 

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people actually like this fic. I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Excelsior was an exclusive invite-only club located in downtown London. Members included high profile men from actors, musicians, politicians, and business moguls. The activities that occur at Excelsior were top secret. Members and workers at the club were bound by a non-disclosure agreement to ensure nothing was made public. Excelsior was merely a very high-end gentlemen's club to the unassuming public, but underneath, it allowed members to succumb to their deepest desires.

Owned and run by "Duchess" Izabella Petrovna and her niece, "Princess" Tatiana Petrovna, the club was steeped in excess and glamour. No suspecting individual would ever think to confuse the establishment as an underground sex club. While the Duchess ran the business side of the operations, the Princess recruited the women. There was a certain criterion that the Princess enforced when it came to employing. First, the women had to be between the ages of twenty-one to thirty-five. The women underwent an extensive background check, along with a psych evaluation. Many of the employees found it hilarious that the Duchess and Princess required a psych evaluation considering that they themselves were equally eccentric…or insane, to put it mildly. Birth control was a non-negotiable requirement the women had to abide by. The women at the club had to partake in monthly STD tests to ensure they were clean and healthy. 

While the Duchess and Princess were an oddball pairing, there was no denying that they cared for their girls and valued the work they did for the members. Their business endeavor allowed the Petrovna's to continue to live in luxuries that Russia no longer was able to provide. They paid well.

It was how Rose Turner provided a decent life for herself and her son, Louis. Rose had been working at the club for six years and in that time had garnered quite the clientele. However, it would be three men who would have a tumultuous impact on Rose's life. She referred to them as the Pope, the Rabbi, and the Gypsy. 

The Pope was Luca Changretta, an Italian man from New York. Luca was a prominent businessman whose family still resided in England. While Audrey Changretta was a former school teacher, her husband Vincent, and youngest son Angel, owned restaurants and bars from Manchester to Birmingham, to London. They also dabbled in the real estate business and owned numerous high rise apartment buildings. The Changretta family was viewed as a rival to the Shelby clan. Both have tried to partner on business ventures with no deal ever emerging. The two families did not trust one another. 

With Luca stationed over in the States, he would visit his family throughout the year during holidays, for birthdays, weddings, funerals, openings of new Changretta establishments. Time home also allowed for Luca to engage in his pleasures. His visits to Excelsior were always a big deal. Everything had to be perfect, according to Izabella. Tatiana assigned Rose to Luca. 

"You are his type, no," Tatiana would say. "He likes the way you look. That innocent and doe-eyed look. Hooker with a heart of gold, they say, right."

Rose did not question Tatiana. She read through Luca's file to find out more about her new client and what he liked. The man was noticeably big into role play, especially in a religious aspect. He loved playing the part of a holy man while Rose played the Catholic school girl or nun. It was how Luca got the nickname, "The Pope." The man thankfully always managed to be a gentleman. He respected the rules of the club and never went overboard. If Rose was uncomfortable with acting out a scene, she knew it was okay to voice her worries. Luca never tried to fight her or manipulate her into partaking in a scene. He respected Rose's boundaries. She was one of his favorites at the club. 

Alfie Solomons was nicknamed "The Rabbi" and another important client at Excelsior. He had his fill of women during his time at the club. So much so that the girls would talk openly with one another about his particular habits. For instance, Alfie never partook in actual intercourse with the women. Instead, he relied on toys such as dildos or vibrators to bring pleasure to his women. He would also make sure to wear black latex gloves while touching the women. Many assumed it was to keep himself clean and pure since he participated in activities that would be deemed excruciatingly unholy. Alfie made sure that Tatiana only gave him gentile women.

"No Jewish women, love. They are holy creatures and should be remained as such, okay," Alfie demanded.

When Rose saw Alfie for the first time, she was intimidated by his big stature. However, Alfie proved to be one of Rose's favorite clients. The man knew how to pleasure a woman. He always made scenes fun and intense. Some women would even fight over who got to be with Alfie on certain nights he was at the club. They all loved him. 

As the son of a Russian Jewish woman and working-class Londoner father, Alfie worked his way up in the world. It would be the distillery business where Alfie would make his fortunes. From rum and vodka to gin, beer, and cider, Solomons & Sons was the top distillery company in the United Kingdom. It did not take long for the Shelby family came knocking on Alfie's door to partner with on business endeavors. While Alfie would continue to remain skeptical about the Shelby family, he knew the business deal with them would be too good to pass up. He loved having a go at Tommy Shelby from time-to-time to see how far he could push the Birmingham lad. 

In fact, it was Alfie who told Tommy about Excelsior. 

"You go from whore to whore with no care in the world. It is like you got a death wish. Seriously, don't you ever worry about getting the clap? I'll tell ya what…let me talk with one of my associates about inviting you to join this club I frequent. It will have everything you ever wanted and more. Trust me," Alfie shared with Tommy at one of their business meetings two years ago. 

Tommy merely scoffed as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Trust you. Not likely, Alfie. As I recall, it was because of you that the deal with the Changrettas fell apart. Something about mentioning how my brother John got into a fight with Angel Changretta over a girl they both were seeing at the time."

With a shit-eating grin, Alfie replied, "I am a beacon of truth, eh."

"More like a pain in my ass," Tommy smirked. 

As promised, Alfie talked with Tatiana about inviting Tommy to the club. She was adamant about meeting with the self-made millionaire. The Princess wanted to make sure he was suitable to partake in her establishment. If Tatiana had the ability, she would have kept Tommy all to herself if she could. 

"None of those whores deserve you, Thomas," said Tatiana as she laid in bed next to him.

"No, they deserve better. Better than me, that is for sure. But…they are all I got. So, I need your help in finding the best one for me. One that I can take out in public if need be. One who can be presentable to society at certain functions I have to attend. That way, I can keep up the appearance of a family man who still grieves the loss of his wife while trying to move on with my life."

Lizzie Stark filled that position for two years before her sudden and unexpected departure at Excelsior. Now Tatiana had to find a new girl to assign for Tommy, which was no easy task with his certain expectations. The man was rather picky, to say the least. Perusing her girls' files, she realized that there was only one who could meet the requests of Tommy Shelby.

"Rose Turner," announced Tatiana and handed Tommy her file. "She has been with us for a couple of years. She is considered top-quality—good reviews from our top clients. As you can see, she is beautiful, no. She can be elegant if need be for your functions. Adventurous…flexible, if you know what I mean. She'd be perfect for you. What do you think?"

Tommy looked over Rose's file. Her birthdate indicated she was in her early thirties and from Blackpool, a seaside resort town on England's Irish Sea coast. It was England's very own Coney Island. Ada took Karl and Charlie there for a weekend getaway not long after Grace died to cheer up her nephew.

"How many men does she see regularly?" Tommy asked.

"Rose is considered top quality. Her clientele is small. She has no more than four regulars. One does not live here full-time. He only sees her when he visits family. The others…well, they are people from your circle of business partners."

"Is that so. Who would these men be?" Tommy inquired as he continued to look through Rose's file.

"I am not at liberty to tell you such vital information…"

"Well, Tatiana, let me take a guess. Could Alfie Solomons be one of Rose's clients? How about Darby Sabini? Is he on the list? Billy Kimber before his untimely departure on this Earth?" Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and tossed Rose's file on Tatiana's desk. "Set up a meeting for me with Rose. Not here, though. Tell her to meet me at The Savoy Hotel this Saturday night. Give her this as well," Tommy handed Tatiana an envelope she assumed had cash in it. "Tell her to buy something nice for the occasion. The two of us can talk over dinner, and if all goes well, we can end the night on a good note. Just know this Princess, if all goes well, then Rose becomes mine. Her other clients can fuck off for all I care. I am not one to share what is mine."

So here Rose was, at one of London's top boutiques picking out a dress for Saturday night. Tatiana explained the possible arrangement with Mr. Shelby, and if things went well, he would be Rose's main client. Meaning he would become Rose's only client. She had reservations about it until Tatiana shared how much Mr. Shelby was willing to pay. It was more money than Rose originally would make. Tatiana shared that Mr. Shelby would provide Rose a weekly allowance on top of her services' standard fees. The deal with too good to pass up. However, Tatiana was adamant to Rose that meeting Tommy first would be wise before agreeing to any deals. 

All Rose knew was that she had a date with The Gypsy. 

[herohotline]

Can I request a yandere aizawa with a female to non-binary reader coming out to a little bit after he kidnapped them? (I'm not out and it hurts I just need some validation 🥺) 💞💞

A/N: I’m not gonna lie this is a weird scenario to get validation from lmao but I ain’t gonna judge

——

Aizawa was... interested in you. Interested sounded much better than infatuated- or obsessed. He was a man who knew his desires and he knew how to obtain them, so eventually, he obtained you.

Obtained isn’t a very flattering word either, but that’s what happened. It’s better than ‘kidnapped’.

But, well, Aizawa also wasn’t one to chase away the truth. So, yes, he’s obsessed with you for various reasons that he doesn’t really feel like explaining and eventually he turned to kidnapping you. That’s what happened.

He had done so carefully and thoughtfully. He made sure that no one would suspect that you ‘disappeared’ and that you were comfortable with the room he set you up in. Sure you couldn’t use your quirk and you were here against your will, but he knew you well enough to know soon enough you’d adapt and accept your circumstances.

And he was right- it was a few months in when you began to be compliant. But there was an edge on you lately- you weren’t fully there yet. There was something keeping you held back- so Aizawa knew if he really wanted you to be his completely, he’d have to make you fess up this thing that you kept from him.

He decided that the upfront approach was best- it usually is. You sit on the couch, book in your hand and the usual bracelet on your ankle. The bracelet itself was a trophy in Aizawa’s mind- it showed that you earned his trust so you didn’t need to be tied up or in chains.

The hero (can you still honestly call him that) sits next to you on the couch. Your body naturally stiffens, but you’re much more quick to hide it than you used to be. Aizawa hums at this, eyes continuing to search you as he finally speaks. “What’s on your mind?”

You look over at him, then quickly back to your book. “What isn’t, these days?”

Avoiding the question. That just won’t do.

“I’ll ask again,” Aizawa sighs and swiftly plucks your book out of your hands, placing it under his arm. You gape at him, a frown on your face. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been keeping something from me for long enough. You either tell me now or there will be consequences.”

You wince at the threat. Consequences... you hated those. They varied based on what exactly you did wrong- sometimes they weren’t that bad, sometimes they were awful.

“I...” you start- but the words don’t come. They’ve been there, festering in your mind for weeks, but you just can’t find the right way to put them on your tongue. It tastes sour and bitter, making you just want to forget it and move on.

Aizawa shifts one of his hands forward- touching you lightly before his hand lays flat on your shoulder, rubbing gently. The touch of your captor will always send you in a state of unease- but regardless of that- the thought is... nice. You appreciate it.

“You...” your face twists as you look toward Aizawa, conflict in your eyes before you close them. “I don’t really understand it, but you... love me, don’t you?”

The question startles him. “Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in his tone.

“But what if I was different?” Your hands go to your lap, nervously picking at your nails. “Would you still feel that way even if- if I was odd?”

He sighs again. “Tell me what it is,” he says once again, the hand on your shoulder moving up to your jaw so he can turn your head toward him. His gaze is unrelenting, but just as soft as his touch.

He loves you.

“I don’t think that I’m a woman.” The words slip out quietly. Aizawa’s thumb strokes your cheek.

“Then what do you think you are?”

You blink. “I... I’m not sure, yet. It’s hard to say.” Your hands stop picking your nails as you breathe in deep. “You really didn’t react to that like I thought you would. Does it not bother you? That I would say something so-“

“Odd?” Aizawa finishes for you, a quirk in his brow as he looks at you with an amused smile. Wordlessly you nod and he just shakes his head in return- his thumb continuing to run circles on your cheek. “The world wasn’t made for humans, you know. We’re too smart, too constricted by the self awareness we own that we bound ourselves to the rules we made. You’re not odd for trying to escape that barrier.”

His hand slips into your hair, gently stroking and petting. He treats you like you’re a pet, honestly, but you’ve grown past getting humiliated by it. It’s started to be comforting (which is bad). “I am in love with you,” he then says, and somehow this is different. The words leave him deep and fluid, and they sound so honest. Your heart stutters at the sound, even though you’ve heard him say the same words many times before. “Not the label that society forced you under. It’s more than fine to me.”

It’s silent in the living room once he’s finished speaking. Aizawa is a man of few words, so you’re not surprised that’s all he had to say- but you are surprised purely by what he said. It’s... validating, and wonderful to hear, even if it’s only from him. Only him, and no one else, because no one else will ever know.

“Thank you, Aizawa...” your heart once again stutters as his hand goes back to your jaw, clasping your chin. His eyes are a little harder than before, making you remember the role you play. “S-shouta.” His tight grip loosens.

“You’re welcome,” he untucks the book he took away from under his arm and returns it to your lap, standing up from the couch. He moves instead to stand right in front of you, placing both his large hands on your face. “Do not doubt yourself or me ever again. Understand?”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly. “Understood.”

“Good.” Aizawa backs away from you, giving you space to breathe. He heads to the kitchen instead, asking you what you would like to eat for dinner, and things continue as they would normally.

Nothing has changed. You’re still bound to his prison. But at least he gives you the decency to be yourself, wholly and truly.

Or maybe submitting even more of yourself to him was exactly what he wanted, and telling him this was a mistake. Who knows what he could do with such personal information?

Well, it’s too late now. You tell him you’d like Tonkotsu for dinner, and he smiles, as if he knew you’d say that.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 4- Distaste

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2506

Warnings: Bratty Ivar

...

The sun did nothing to warm her as she trudged towards the river, woven basket resting on her hip. It was the beginning of autumn in Kattegat, but it already felt like a harsh winter was at their doorstep.

There wasn't a day that passed in which she didn't think of her home. Crete seemed a life time away, and when she closed her eyes it's as if she never left. She could easily imagine being at the Aegean's edge, legs ankle deep in the crystal blue waters. Everytime she did, it left her feeling empty.

It had been nearly two weeks since Artemis arrived to Kattegat, and each day was a bit more overwhelming. Many warriors, men and women alike, gathered together, preparing for a war to be fought in another land, and many other northern leaders came one by one to aid in the destruction of their enemies. The city was constantly preparing for departure. Everyday supplies were collected, and everyday more ships filled their harbor.

Artemis didn't understand these people or their warrior culture. There was constant feasting and talk of warfare. The words that she seemed to learn efficiently were the ones shes heard in conversation, words relating to some form of violence. She kept quiet most of the time, though she tried her best to learn the northern tongue from the thralls that were fluent.

Within 2 weeks she's grown weary of the male gaze. It was too often when she's caught the eyes of some random man in the market or during some feast. Someone went as far as to touch her once in a crowd, though she never discovered who it was.

As a thrall, she had come to learn that other than being the lowest member of their society, she, along with the other female captives who were sold to many other households and visiting Viking leaders, were sold for some form of labor, or for the entertainment of the male gaze.

And what was her purpose?

Apparently to distract the mind of an angry youth that she barely had any encounters with since the day she met him.

As for his brothers, she only spoke when absolutely necessary. They were decent for the most part, and sometimes kind in their own way.  Whenever Ubbe could, he'd offer her a fresh apple before going on about his day. As for Hvitserk and Sigurd, they were far more trouble. Sometimes they watched her, and they didn't hide the fact that they did, muttering to themselves while smiling and laughing like young boys. It embarrassed her and made the simplest task much more difficult. Luckily they were busy in the matters of war, and she busied herself with the chores she was taught to do.

It was laundry day down by the chilly river, and she scrubbed Ivar's fine clothing furiously, releasing the anger she felt on the stains that were the hardest to remove.

"If you scrub my favorite tunic any harder, it will be ruined, and I will be forced to punish you."

Artemis drops the tunic and soap in her lap, turning in surprise to meet the bright blue eyes of Ivar himself, a smirk forming on his lips.

When he wasn't off disappearing into the woods, he was usually at the blacksmith's shop, pounding away at his axes. Artemis never had the chance to pass by the village blacksmith yet, but she hoped in time she would. Nothing would calm her more than observing the different forging techniques of the Northerners. And it would be far better than to sit and wash a cripples dirty clothes anyway.

The rumors Margrethe mentioned were everywhere. The people of Kattegat whispered of how he silently plots against the Queen for the death and usurpation of his mother, former Queen Asluag. He was young, but he had the fury of the mightiest warrior, even if his legs didn't work. He also had a way of making Artemis feel uneasy with his sulking and glaring. His blue eyes would sometimes follow her form, but he was the only one that didn't really utter a word to her. After all, he thinks her ugly and useless, and that was fine with her.

Artemis quickly side glances him, struggling to give him an answer. She didn't know how to address him properly because she never had the opportunity to. So, she remains quiet instead, going back to scrubbing the tunic at a softer rhythm then before.

"Do you know who I am?" He growled quietly, dragging his weak bounded legs towards her. It was a strange sight to her, to see a boy who walked with his hands. She glanced at his lifeless legs before looking into his eyes.

"You are Ivar the Boneless," Artemis stated, turning back to her chores. It was odd for him to be speaking to her, as he never cared to do so before, so why did he come looking for her now?

"You may refer to me as Prince Ivar, slave."

She stares as he sat across from her on the rivers edge. He didn't look like much of a prince, but she nods in acknowledgement before speaking.

"Prince Ivar." He nods approvingly.

"What are you called?"

"Artemis."

"What kind of name is 'Artemis'?" He snorts. Her name tumbling out of his mouth was an offense. It took all her strength to refrain from scoffing. What kind of name was Ivar anyway?

"She was goddess of...an older culture," She finds herself struggling to say. How does she explain that her father had been fascinated with the gods of their ancestors?

The sudden memory of her father made her frown. Her absence must have the old man worried sick.

"So Artemis was a goddess?"

"Goddess of the moon," She tells him, "Goddess of the hunt."

"A Christian named after a rejected goddess?" Ivar scoffs with a shake of his head. Floki was right, Christians were fools. He finally brings himself to take a good look at her, and he immediately stops his teasing for a moment.

If he didn't understand what Hvitserk, Sigurd or anyone else for that matter saw in her before, than he surely did now. It was her eyes, expressive and endless.

And sad.

He quickly looks away from her, feeling a heat creeping up his neck, the same way it did when he'd seen his brothers fool around with Margrethe. Confusion was etched over his features at the feeling, and he found himself trying to fight off something he had no defense against. He takes another moment before clearing his throat and speaking again.

"My brother says you were found hiding in a crate at the monestary." Artemis finished scrubbing the last of the stains on Ivar's shirt, setting it aside and picking another to work on, all while keeping her eyes downcast. Maybe if she didn't look at him he'd eventually go away.

"Yes." Was all she says. A howling laughter escapes past Ivar's lips as soon as she replies. She breaks her weak concentration to glare at him, watching as he shook his head again, playing with a dagger he kept on his person.

"All you Christian's are hypocrites. Isn't a monk sworn not to have sex with a woman? Prince Alfred of Wessex has told me so." Maybe that last part was a bit haughty. Artemis didn't even know who that Prince was or the land he ruled, so she ignores the comment, scrubbing the tunic as harshly as she did with the first few, growing annoyed with Ivar's obvious ignorance.

"I was not in the monestary to bed monks," She says, finally finding the confidence to form a proper sentence. Ivar's brows shoot up, watching her curiously. She hadn't noticed that she removed the dirt some time ago, but that didn't seem to stop her.

"Ah ah ah, what did I just tell you, woman? These fabrics are worth more than your life," Ivar smirks,  pointing his dagger at her, and it was enough to slow her rapid movements.

Her eyes reminded Ivar of an approaching storm. There was lightening within them, as if Thor himself lived within her. He knew she wanted to respond harshly and he watched as she fought to remain silent, eyeing the blade. She comes to a complete stop with a huff, deciding to move on to the next clothing item.

"Apologies, Prince Ivar." He liked the way she said his name, but he wouldn't care to admit that. He clears his throat again, scratching at his cropped hair before continuing.

"You are not like the other foreign slaves. They didn't know our language before arriving here," She says nothing, so he tries again.

"Who taught you? They did a terrible job. You have a ridiculous accent."

"Helga."

"Oh." Ivar wanted to eat his words. He just offended Helga without meaning to. Instead he let's out a grunt, choosing to stare down at his dagger. "I... suppose your accent isn't too bad then."

"There wasn't much else to do when forced on a ship against your will. You learn quicker that way." Those two sentences alone gave way to an aggressiveness she had been struggling to hold in, and it did not go unnoticed by Ivar. Her fowl attitude was smeared over her words, and her confidence seemed to grow along with her articulation. She was growing dangerously bold.

His hand tighten around the hilt of his dagger without him even thinking. It was one thing for him to taunt her, but now he knew that this girl had a reckless mouth of her own, regardless of whether she could speak his language or not.

He makes a noise of disapproval, taking the clean shirts that she had just placed into the woven basket and smearing them across the dirt with satisfaction swimming in his eyes. His thrall immediately scowls.

Back home she would have punched him without hesitation. Her fingers curled into tight fists, though the consequences of punching a viking prince was much deadlier than punching a butcher's son. She realized Ivar was nothing more than a  spoilt child. It was clear that the only thought running through his head was of the chaotic kind.

She glares at him before snatching the shirts and restarting her work.

Ivar lets the silence fall between them again, before scooting back to lean against a nearby tree. Artemis was grateful for the silence and the distance, working diligently on the clothing once again. From the looks of it, she would have to remain at the river for the rest of the day.

After a while, she could hear him muttering to himself, before he decided to break their silence again.

"Look at me, Artemis," Ivar spoke suddenly, a harshness apparent in his tone. She proceeds to drop the item with a wet plop on her lap, letting out a quiet sigh of frustration. She obediently turns to look at him, and the look on his face told her she might be in some serious trouble.

"You were a gift to me from Lagertha from Bjorn's exploits. If I find you are a spy, you must know there will be repercussions, no?" Artemis furrows her brows in confusion. She has never even met the queen.

"But I'm not a s-"

"And mind the way you speak to me," He growls out like a beast waiting to attack, "You are my property now. You belong to me. Your loyalty is to no one but me." He smirks when she begins to show hints of discomfort, and to add to that fear he drops his body, slithering over to her at a frightening speed.

"If you decide not to comply, I'll have no issues leaving you to the wolves." She sees him smile for the first time, bearing all his teeth in a way to instill fear. Artemis gulps, her heart rate accelerating the closer he brought his dagger towards her.

"Or maybe," He continues, "I should let my brothers have their way with you? Hmm? Or the men of Kattegat?"

"Don't," Was all she says, a stern tone in her voice and a frown forming on her red bitten lips. Her eyes were hard and glossing over.

"I don't know what it is they see in you, really, it's beyond me," Ivar moves his face closer to hers, using the hand that held his dagger to touch her hair. He gently grasps the long strands, pushing them behind her shoulder.

"I've seen the way they look at you. It bothers you." Artemis remained quiet, but she nods in silent agreement.

"I can protect you from them," He says, his eyes searching for something in hers.

"Why?" She decides to challenge, her gaze not moving away from his, "Why help me? Are you not the most feared?" Ivar chuckles. He enjoyed hearing her speak more, and he certainly enjoyed hearing of the fear others regard him with.

"You are my personal thrall. I'm the only one who can protect you, understand? Without me, anyone could have their way with you, and it wouldn't even matter." Artemis sighed, looking down at her hands that have pruned up from the water. This was not the type of labor she was use too.

"Why does it matter to you what anyone does to me?"

Ivar remained quiet at first, focusing on the sound of the rushing river and the birds singing in the trees.

"I do not like my property to be touched without my permission," He said after a moment.

Property. Another word she didn't like.

"You will have my protection," He continues, "But you must swear to be loyal to me, and answer to no one but me, is that clear?" He had gotten so close that she could feel his breath upon her skin. He reached forward with the dagger, pressing the tip on the delicate flesh of her neck. He knew exactly how much pressure to put on the blade to draw blood, and with a small amount of force he easily pierced her skin, a minimal amount blood pooling around the small wound.

Artemis flinches, her chest rising and falling with each breath, fighting to not make a sound. It wasn't painful, but she knew he had the power to do so much worse. Ivar smiled, attracted to the fear that he saw building in her eyes. The sight itself was arousing.

"If you go against me in any way, I will not hesitate. I will kill you. Do you understand?" He licks at his dry lip as she closes her eyes, nodding her head. With one more puff of breath against her face, he removed the blade and crawled back to lean against the tree.

"You may continue your duties," He said nonchalantly, crossing his arms, ready to continue the pastime of watching her.

"And for the love of the gods" He says exasperated, "Try not to get any blood on my clothes."

...

@heavenly1927

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

It wasn't that often that he went down to the beach, usually he was looking after the boys. He'd never complain about that, he loved his kids. But the sunset this time of evening was also something he did want to go and see, and with them at a friend's house, he had taken the chance to see it. Really he should paint it sometime, but he hadn't bought anything down with him. It was how he had noticed someone else drawing it. "It is, think you came more prepared then I did".

@ivycovestarters

open to: anyone

location: shoregraze beach

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, throwing a more golden hue across the waves that lapped at the beach in front of her. Rapunzel sat on the sand, sketchpad open on her knee, pencil sketching lightly at the paper. She paused for a moment, tilting her head back towards the sun, closing her eyes as she let out a content sigh. It was at that point she became aware of a figure near her and turned with a soft smile, "Beautiful sunset, isn't it?" She began, opening her eyes as she turned towards them, "You can join me if you want."

[violentdelightstheseviolentends]

❝ walk with me. ❞ (Jacen to anyone)

"Strange request" and possibly not really one that he shouldn't even agree to. Wasn't stranger danger a thing? But then again, he was also pretty tell and fit, he hadn't been taken by any sort of attack yet, and now his curiosity was raised. "Where are we going anyway? Or is that a surprise?" all of which was now entertaining. Perhaps he shouldn't be taking this as being so entertaining.

@allthatglxtters

[kathyprior4200]

Haven Hotel: That’s Disengagement!

A princess with long black hair walked out from a balcony. She wore a black undershirt with a white bow tie on top. A dark teal shirt, long white pants and white high heel shoes completed the look. Her face was white and teal blushes were present on her cheeks. She was the inverted, antithesis of Charlie, the princess of Hell in a parallel world.

“For all my life, I’ve been taught that all angels have good inside them. But I know that to be a lie. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith, God’s closest angels betrayed Him… I don’t think I can believe in these flawed teachings anymore…”

The princess was Caroline Egnam, born and raised in Heaven…though she was not at all one would expect her to be in such a place. Self-entitled and pessimistic, nothing much could cheer her up except heavy metal music, rebelling against the rules and the occasional brawl.

“It’s inevitable that all those imperfect angels will go to Hell. They deserve to deal with suffering and challenges. Best of all, they wouldn’t be bound by social expectations. Heck, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it were me. I do enjoy my comfortable life here, just not these restrictions.”

Her servants Pub and Chub were fat white cherub angels with horns on their heads, black wings, and black eyes. One held an electric guitar while the other shot out torpedoes from a small cannon.

Outside was a white clock tower standing tall against the blue sky. The numbers read 0 then changed to 365 days. Writing above the numbers read “days until the next cleanse in Hell.”

Caroline leaned against the marble balcony and began to sing in a low growl.

     (“I’m Always Evading Shadows”)

  “At the end of the journey, there’s suffering

Denying it, how often I’ve tried

But my life’s a disgrace

Just a slap in the face

And the harsh truths have all been denied”

 “A sliver of despair in this world of light

I know this world’s not free of sin

I search for the good

But get misunderstood

And reality will always win”

 “Why have I always been so imperfect?

Lost in this brainwashed sea

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

 “I’m always evading shadows

Trapped, drowning in the social flow

Free-will forbidden, my answers are hidden

Lying down below”

 “Some people sugarcoat their speeches

I always blab out what I mean

I may be cruel but I am no fool

Things are never what they seem

Believe me”

 “I’m always evading shadows

Waiting for people to awaken

In vain”

    A nearby portal opened and out came the Exterminators, bloodstains over their wings and bodies and harpoons. They took off their creepy LED masks, their white angelic faces revealed. One by one, the citizens clapped and cheered. One of the Archangels with four black wings flew up to the front, his spiked halo glowing. He took off his mask, revealing a white face with yellow eyes and fiery red hair.

“Another successful purge,” their leader Samael praised. “You cleansed more sinners while still keeping the population in a good balance. Well done, all of you.” He cleared his throat and made a cross symbol over his heart. “For the greater good in the name of our Lord.”

The angels repeated the phrase.

“Until next year. Dismissed.” The Archangel soldiers saluted and then flew off separately to see their families.

 All around Caroline, Holy City was basked in a heavenly glow. The city was located up in the sky among the clouds, but no one had to worry about falling, even the ones without their wings out. A large church with the appearance of the Notre Dame Cathedral stood proudly in the city square, made of polished marble. Choirs and songs floated through the stained glass windows as the regular angels went in and out to pray and visit with their neighbors. A large fountain sprouted non-alcoholic wine of a golden color. It had a white statue of Mary and Jesus as a young boy at the top, both with welcoming faces.

The streets were spotless and clean. Roofs and roads were powered by the sun’s rays. The Cloud 9 supermarket had endless amounts of food for sale…no one ever had to worry about going hungry. Charity workers and volunteers worked by the dozens, passing out food and bestowing miracles for those who needed them in the lower levels of Heaven.

This version of Heaven was very similar to the Heaven in the realm next door, the one above the familiar Hell with the Hazbin Hotel. Unlike those angels with their blonde hair and red blushes, these angels most often had black hair and teal blushes on their cheeks. Like in the other Heaven, some of the bipedal angels displayed animal-like characteristics: some had heads of doves, others had swan wings and mannerisms. Many of them had fur, ears, and fluffy tails of dogs and wolves. It was the only place where dogs and cats could dance and prance together without conflict. Still a few others had faces of flowers or even objects like harps and musical instruments.

God’s Palace was the grandest place of all: it was settled at the highest point of Heaven like Mount Olympus. Only a few angels were allowed to visit there. Seraph angels with six rainbow wings guarded the throne of God as well as the outside of the palace. There were rumors that in the palace gardens, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge were grown there, heavily protected.

 Lucius and Lilian were Caroline’s parents, those who took the place of Lucifer and Lilith after they were banished. They were named the new king and queen of heaven, thus Caroline became the princess.

Lucius had a white face, teal blushes on his cheeks and short dark hair. Lucius wore a gray suit with a dark blue bow tie and a black top hat with two white features attacked to the brim. Lilian’s hair was long and black, and she, too had the teal blushes and typical angel features. She wore a golden halo crown and an elegant white dress. Both had white wings which could turn black when they were angry or defensive.

 Along the street, a red car stopped beside the sidewalk. A tall creature opened the car door and stepped out. The spider angel had a furry dark gray face and body, plus multiple slender arms: six in total. He wore tall boots, green gloves and a shirt with a white bow-tie near the top. His shirt and sleeves had black and dark green stripes. Green dots resembling eyes were located under his eyes.

“Thank you for the ride,” said the spider angel.

“No problem, Devil Grit,” said the driver Travis, a white furry guy wearing a top hat.

Devil walked over to a vending machine and bought himself a granola bar. He then gave it to a homeless guy leaning against the wall.

 He walked inside a building and onto a stage in an auditorium. His opponent was already standing nervously at his spot, a microphone rising from the ground and stopping in front of him.

Pentious Senor was the nervous white snake. He had a white face with large slightly teal eyes with white pupils. He wore a white bow tie with a blue circle in the center below his thin neck. Surrounding his face on a flap of skin were bright teal eyes against dark purple. His suit was light gray with dark purple vertical stripes. Finally, he wore a large light gray top hat with a large green eye moving eye in the center.

The crowd settled into their seats and the debate began.

 “Those other brave do gooders will do great with helping me with my presentation. Anyone want to try?”

A couple of hands shot up. Mechanical eggs on robotic legs moved around to help out the white snake lord.

Senor pushed a button and a presentation showed up on a screen titled “Heaven Economics and Invention Ideas.”

“I don’t like to fight,” Senor said, “and I’m super nervous up here…”

Devil Grit glared at his cowardly opponent who then yelped, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Heaven doesn’t need any future technology,” Grit argued, “because we already have better things: friendships, food, and fun.”

Pentious Senor glanced down nervously at his note cards and read from them. “At this rate I will persuade the entire East end of Holy City by night’s beginning. And nothing, not a single beauty in this paradise of bliss, will be able to change my mind or escape the constrictive grasp of persuasive argumentation.”

 “Heaven will be ours, though it’s mine in my mind. And everybody will know the name of…”

 “Scared Snake,” said a female voice.

 “W-who said that?” Senor asked.

 “You ready for a debate, old man?”

 The voice belonged to Berri Blossom, the opposite of Cherri Bomb in Hell. She was a tall cyclops with black skin, with a single green eye with a black cross in the center. She wore a long dark green dress and white high heeled shoes. Her black skin was decorated in some areas near her shoulders with tiny teal specks. Her long hair was curly, blue at the top and black near the bottom.

She walked over beside her academic partner Devil Grit. “Why don’t you play with your tinker toys somewhere else while I go over the logistics of divine law school?” She looked professional and poised.

“You want to go, madam?” Pentious Senor asked. He flicked his hood back. “Well, let the battle for tenure and status begin!”

  A neon logo appeared on the screen, saying “Divine News” surrounded by a halo. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

“Good afternoon, Holy City!” said a woman with short black hair, wearing a light blue dress. “I’m Catie Carejoy.”

“And I’m Ron Wrench,” said the man next to her, wearing a business suit and who had a wrench for a head.

After discussing the weather, various humane societies, and legends on Earth, Catie continued, “The debate battle is underway between inventor and conservative coward Pentious Senor and professional economics expert Berri Blossom. Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of His Majesty Lucius, who’s here to discuss her brand new passion-project! All that and more after the break!”

Inside the break room, Agatha adjusted Caroline’s white bow tie. Nearby, a blue tinted sign read “No smoking.” Another sign read “In The Air” in large letters.

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

“Yes, I’m ready,” Caroline stated.

Agatha brushed her long black hair from her face. Like Vaggie in Hell, Agatha’s thick hair extended down to her legs, giving her hair the appearance of moth wings. She had a green cross over her right eye and her left eye was purple with a white pupil. A teal bow was perched on top of her head. Her skin was dark gray and she wore a dark gray crop top with white xs over her breasts. She also wore leggings, her right legging striped dark green and light gray, her left legging light gray.

“Oh this is gonna be great!” Agatha said happily. “How about you make your speech sound more exciting?”

“Come on, Agatha, I know what I’m going to say,” Caroline answered, crossing her arms.

Agatha walked over to the pitcher of ambrosia punch on the table. Pub and Chub ate bagels from the table. Agatha got an idea. “Oh! What if you…”

“Sing a song about it?” Caroline asked, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to. This is serious!” She curled her hand into a fist and brought it down on the palm of her other hand. “They won’t take me serious if I start belting out some random song. Life isn’t a musical.”

“But neither is it an emo tragedy,” Agatha pointed out. “Life is great, especially with all the cute guys around.” Her single purple eye shinned.

“Romance, bleh,” Caroline made a face and Agatha giggled.

“Hey,” Agatha brightened, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have some ideas about what you could say.” She bounced up and down. “The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

“They’re all highlighted,” Caroline replied, scanning the paper. “You call your childish drawing your ideas for me?”

“Sure!” Agatha said. “Look here.” It showed a list of different terms “sinners = winners” “Misunderstood are still good” and “demons and angels party between worlds!” Skulls were lined up at the bottom of the page: “we’re all connected by death.”

“Say, that’s actually pretty good!” Caroline said with a smile of sharp teeth.

“Thanks!” Agatha beamed.

Caroline snatched the piece of paper from her friend and tore it in half, much to her shock. “But you should know my ideas are always better.” She tossed the pieces of paper aside, gave a salute and walked out the door.

Catie waved with a smile. “Hello, Caroline. I’m Catie Carejoy.” She held out her hand but Caroline didn’t take it. Catie continued, pulling her hand back. “So this project of yours, when did you come up with this idea of creating a hotel in order to…break the law as the rumors say?”

The angel crew murmured nervously.

“I’m gonna keep this short,” Caroline said. “You might think my idea doesn’t hold water, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m too influential to give a flying feather about what some news lady thinks of my proposal.”

The crowd gasped. Ron shook his head.

“Well, if you can’t take constructive criticism and be polite…”

“…and we’re live!” called a voice as a buzzer sounded.

“And we’re back!” Catie said, rushing over into her seat. “So, Carrie…”

“It’s Princess Caroline Egnam,” said Caroline, sitting in a chair beside her and Ron Wrench.

“Sorry. So tell us about your project.”

 Caroline took a deep breath. “As most of you know, I was born here in Heaven, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. But recently, I don’t believe that’s always the case. We just completed another Extermination. So many sinful souls lost but for what reason? God said in the Commandments “thou shall not kill,” yet killing random people is okay? If we can’t even trust ourselves with our actions and thoughts, is Heaven truly paradise? Not to mention that ever since Lucifer and Lilith betrayed Him, we don’t know who to really trust. Some people are given too many chances!” She pounded her fist on the desk, startling Catie.

Caroline stood up and made her way forward. “No one is truly flawless. Mistakes are made, but we get blamed for doing things we sometimes enjoy. Sex, drugs, partying, swearing, even violence. All because we don’t live up to standards imposed upon us, both here and on Earth! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such lies and propaganda! So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a more liberating way to hinder forced compliance here in Heaven? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to express change through…recreation?”

The angels talked quietly amongst themselves. Aggy nodded in appreciation.

“Well I think yes,” Caroline continued. “So that’s what this project aims to achieve.” She walked back to the desk and sat down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that encourages moderate amounts of so-called sin!” She spread out her arms.

The audience stared in stunned silence. Many of the adults were shaking their heads.

“Who is that girl?” asked a dragon watching from inside a soup kitchen. “What’s her deal with trying to cause more trouble for this world?”

“She’s nuts!” added another angel with an eagle’s head and wings, wearing a suit.

Caroline added nervously, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place to work toward self-expression. Yay.”

 Among the crowd of angels watching the news outside, a tall man with a thin pale brownish face stood toward the back. He wore a light blue dress suit, had blue and white hair, fluffy deer-like ears, and large blue eyes. He watched the program with a look of worry. A deer creature made of light appeared beside him. A sign posted on the wall showing the same man as a DJ read: “Counseling and good times with the Techno Angel!”

 A camera man shook his head at Caroline. Agatha walked up to him and said, “Please give her a chance.”

Caroline sighed. “Look, I know every single one of you has insecurities and issues that need not be bottled up. If you could just embrace those sides of yourselves…”

Caroline then smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.”

Agatha clapped her hands and “ooohed” in excitement as Rub and Chub got the electric guitar ready.

Caroline showed a pair of sharp white teeth and black horns emerged from her head. Black feathery wings sprouted from her back and an X appeared over her right eye. A harpoon appeared in her right hand and blue curved horns emerged from her wavy black hair. She posed over the desk and began.

 (“Inside of Every Angel is a Monster”)

  “I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a fantastic mind-blowing hotel

One of a kind, go and yell

A great place to dwell

Catering to specific clientele”

 *Guitar starts and scream vocals*

 “Inside of every angel is a monster

Inside of every do-gooder is a sinner

Inside of every jolly go-lucky mentality

Is a subconscious portion that’s always dimmer”

 “Resist all the rules

You’re not passive fools!

With just a little time

Down at the Hazbin Hotel!”

 “So all you rescuers, priests, and heroes

Gifted athletes, jocks, and cheerios

And the sheep citizens, relief is here!

All of you angels, leaders, and stars

Traditionalists with fancy cars

And the activists on Mars

Show no fear

No taboos, no laws

Embrace your flaws

You’ll be truly free

Check in with me

It’s the right path, you’ll see”

 “There’ll be no more pressure

And no more status quo

Just friendship, fun, and endless bags of dough

Establishment put to rest

You’ll be like, “Yes!”

Once you check in with me!

 “So all your hierarchies, GMOs, politics, and isms

Lectures, labor standards, and diamond studded prisms

Ancient Indian elitisms

All must die”

 “All you fantasizers, artists, servers, and lords

Spoiled children, winners of awards

Imposers of chores

Face your fear!”

  “Be who you are

And you’ll go so far

Our service will raise the bar

You’ll be the star

Come from near or afar at the Hazbin Hotel!

Yeah!”

  “Wow,” said an angel in a top hat. “That was…alright.”

 The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

 Catie shook her head. “What in the Nine Circles makes you think a single denizen of Heaven would give two feathers about becoming a bad person? You have no proof that your little experiment even works! You want people to disobey God and the rules just…because?!”

 Caroline lifted up her head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause.”

“And who might that be?” Catie asked.

“Oh just someone named…Devil Grit.”

“The grumpy old spider?” asked Ron Wrench.

“He’s not old,” argued Catie. “He just acts older than he is.”

“Anyway,” said Catie to Caroline. “You couldn’t even get that guy to do something bad, even if a gun was pointed at his head.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Caroline argued. “He’s been troubled, dirty, and having conflicted thoughts for two weeks, now.”

“Breaking news!” called a voice as the screen changed to a recent debate shown in a building.

The news came on, detailing Devil Grit and his recent TED talk about the 7 Heavenly Virtues.

“Well, it looks like the one discussing the Heavenly Virtues is none other than…conservative Devil Grit! What a coincidence!”

She and Ron did a “ratings!” and jazz hands.

“Don’t look at this!” yelled Caroline, waving her arms from behind the screen.

“I’m sorry to say, but it looks like your plan’s departed on arrival,” said Catie. “I hope you learned a good lesson here.”

Caroline’s eyes twitched, her teeth barred. “Lesson?! I’ll teach you a lesson, bitch!”  The princess and Catie fought fist and claw on the desk. Ron called for security.

After Caroline was kicked out, Agatha followed her wordlessly to the white limo. Devil Grit, Agatha, and Caroline rode back to the hotel.

 Devil Grit lounged in the far seat, wearing an outfit of black with green stripes and green gloves on his four hands.

“Devil,” said Agatha with concern. “I know you were trying to do good by doing your professional speech. But could you please try not to help society in public? Now people won’t believe us when Caroline says that people are free to express their earthly desires.”

“I’m sorry Aggy,” said Devil from the other seat, “But I have a reputation to keep up. Helping the greater good is His plan for all of us. Besides, a good professional debate is a reasonable form of self-expression right?”

“Not to everyone,” said Agatha. “What about the hotel? People are thinking that you don’t care about Caroline’s project at all.”

“I do care, senorita,” said Devil. “I just don’t think it’s going to be easy to accomplish in such a short time. So many angels are fixated on tradition, myself included.”

“I do appreciate all of your help,” said Caroline, still fuming after the interview, arms crossed. “But I will make this project work, even if I have to do it myself.”

The white limo pulled up in front of the hotel, a pristine building made of glass and marble. The group got out of the car and stepped inside.

White wings made of rainbow scales posed as part of the structure on the roof. The stained glass windows by the door were decorated with apples, a tree of life, and many shades of blue and green. The sign above read “Hazbin Hotel” in big letters on the roof. Inside the lobby, a painting of Adam reaching toward God was displayed on the high ceiling. The hotel had seven floors with seven rooms on each floor. There was even a lab down in the basement which belonged to a frog man named Terry, the opposite of the demon fish scientist Baxter from Hell. A bowl of blue berries and blue raspberries sat on a table below a welcome banner. Aggy rested on a couch while Devil Grit munched on a granola bar.

“It’s probably a good idea to stock up some more food in this place,” said Devil Grit. “Good or bad, people always seem to be greedy when they’re hungry.”

Devil Grit pulled out a chart and went over probabilities and graphs regarding the hotel and the potential number of visitors. Caroline just sighed and walked away toward the door. She went outside and took out her cell phone, calling her mom.

 “Carol cakes!” called her mother through the phone. Caroline cringed.

“Mom, I told you not to call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Lilian with a giggle. “How was the interview?”

“Meh. It was alright. I proposed my idea, but nobody seemed to buy it.”

Lilian’s tone turned more serious. “Caroline, why do you insist that everyone must go down to that horrible place? Why can’t you just see the good in people?”

“Because,” Caroline said, “Everyone has flaws and they don’t realize it.”

“Yes, but that also applies to you, too. Before you get involved with the lives of others, you need to look inside and critique yourself.”

“I’m a princess. Everyone else has more flaws than I do.”

Lilian let out a long sigh. “Young lady, we’ve been through this I don’t know how many times. You have to push your selfish thoughts aside and just accept the way things are. It’s part of a higher purpose.”

“And what is this “higher purpose” anyway? To be His flock of dazed sheep, dancing around without any care in the world? To not experience ecstasy and adventure, even for just a moment?”

“That stuff is dangerous and forbidden. Thousands of souls would do anything to get up to this highest level of Heaven. And you just want to throw your afterlife away?”

Caroline paused in thought. “If it means proving myself and serving Him in a way I see fit, then so be it.”

“You have delusions of what entertainment and happiness is, Carol. Sometimes, you need to take the time and appreciate the beauty that’s in front of you.”

“Other than my own refection, I don’t really see beauty in many other things. Well, metal and watching battles…oh and tragic poetry…”

“You have a lot to learn, dear daughter,” Lilian replied. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.”

“Whatever.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Caroline hung up and went back inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door frame, closing her eyes in frustration…trying to hold back a stream of tears.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. Two knocks, followed by five fast ones. Caroline got up and turned around to answer it. She swung the stained glass door open. From outside stood a man with a pale face, wearing a light blue pinstriped dress coat. A white upward cross was part of the design on his blue undershirt. He was carrying a modern microphone atop a staff in his left hand. His small antlers were white and his hair and deer ears were blue with white tips. He wore glasses as well. Caroline narrowed her eyes.

“Hi, excuse me…” he spoke quietly. “Is this…”

“Fuck off!” Caroline spat, slamming the door in his face.

She opened it again.

“…the right address?” finished the man.

“No!” she shouted, slamming it again.

“Hey Aggy!” called Caroline.

“What?” her friend asked.

“The crybaby Deer Man is at the door!”

“What?!” she asked, blushes appearing on her cheeks.

“Who?” asked Devil Grit.

“What should I do?”

“Well…let him in!” Aggy said, eye shining.

Caroline rolled her eyes and scoffed. She sighed and opened the door again.

“May I talk now?” the man asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Caroline said.

The man held out his white gloved four-fingered hand and smiled. “Stalaro, it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” He walked in. Worry was etched on his face. “I saw your interview on the picture show and I was worried sick! I was afraid you were never coming back after your argument. I haven’t been that upset since the 1929 Stock Market Crash!” He sniffed, “So many orphans…”

“Hello there!” Aggy called with a smile, staring up at him and walking in front of him. “I’m so glad you’re here to help out my friend with this new hotel! I’m a big fan of yours and just being in your presence is just…” She swooned. “Oh just take me already you cute, pompous, talk show, blueberry pimp lord!”

Stalaro gave a nervous laugh, “Dear, I’m mostly into guys but I appreciate the sentiment.” He conjured up a strawberry in his hand and popped it into his mouth.

Aggy deflated a little.

“But if I wanted to take anyone away…they would be gone already.”

 Stalaro tilted his head. His blue eyes briefly glowed with blue upside down radio dials in them. Electricity sparked around cyan colored voodoo symbols in the air. His eyes filled with tears, tears spilling down his pale brown cheeks.

Aggy watched in bliss, while Devil and Caroline rolled their eyes at the show-off.

Stalaro shook his head and his eyes returned to normal blue.

 “No, I’m here because I want to relax and help out.”

“Say what?” Caroline asked, eyebrow raised.

Stalaro held up his staff which glowed blue. He said with a sad crack in his voice, “Goodbye, is this thing off?”

He tapped it. A blue sad looking eye appeared in the center of the microphone. It spoke in a mechanical voice. “You’re silent, quiet and unclear!”

“That’s your motivation motto every day?” Devil Grit asked, crossing his four arms. “Pathetic!”

“Tragic and mysterious, I love it!” Aggy squealed. “It’s like the opposite of announcing. It’s denouncing.”

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

Stalaro appeared behind them after morphing into light.

“With…” he spoke in her growl then his normal shy sounding voice, “…this random thing you’re trying to do. This hotel. I want to help you run it, if that’s okay.”

“Uh…why?”

Stalaro choked a bit on his words. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sheer absolute lethargy! I’ve been partying around and keeping busy for decades. I would like to do something more relaxing and easier.”

Aggy wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Stalaro blushed uncomfortably. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

He gently pulled her off him. “My work became overwhelming, lacking focus. I’ve come to crave a new form of disengagement!”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as disengagement?”

“No,” Stalaro said. “It’s violent and messy, not really my thing. Life is truly strange…reality, fantasy, true tragedy. After all the world is a grave, and the grave is a world of disengagement!”

 Caroline brightened a bit. “So, does this mean you think it’s possible to taint an angel?”

Stalaro sniffed and held up a hand. “Who knows? Anything’s possible. Sinning, oh the vice of humanity! I think there’s plenty left that can change such do -gooders. But then again, the chance that was given to them was the life they lived before. The reward is this!” He spread out his arms. “According to God, there’s no undoing what is done…or at least that’s the way it should be.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t fully believe in my cause?” Caroline asked.

Stalaro turned around to look at her. “Consider it an investment in ongoing knowledge for myself and others.” He let out a small smile. “I want to watch the blessed of this world struggle to give into temptation, only to repeatedly realize and raise themselves toward the golden ladder of success!” His eyes glowed blue.

“Right…” Caroline began.

“Yes indeed,” Stalaro said, both of them walking off to the side. “I see you taking risks and who better to keep you grounded than I.”

 “Ah, so what’s the deal with Mr. Frown over there?” Devil Grit asked.

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

Devil shrugged his shoulders.

“The Techno Angel, one of the most complex beings Heaven as ever seen?”

“Eh, not big on certain politics and the arts.”

Aggy sighed and leaned in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Stalaro manifested in Heaven, seemingly in one day. He began to catch the attention of overlords who had kept to themselves for centuries. That kind of attraction and magic power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his adventures all throughout heaven just so everyone could experience some joy, tragedy and emotions. Do gooders starting calling him the Techno Angel, (as unoriginal as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and constructive heroes. But one thing’s for sure: he’s an unpredictable source of silliness, a depressed spirit of mystery and a loving being of order…or disorder, the likes of which we can get involved in, especially if we want to end up aroused!”

“You done?” Devil asked. “He looks like a blueberry businessman. Or a shady con-man.”

“Well, I trust him completely!”

“Do you blindly trust any man? All men?”

Aggy skipped over to Caroline. Stalaro examined a family portrait of Lucius, Lilian and a young Caroline in the center. Young Caroline wore a white dress with a turquoise top to it. Her hair was jet black, braided in black barbed wire, her cheeks had teal blushes. Her mother had long black hair and wore a fancy white dress and a round gold crown. Her father was dressed in a dress suit of white and blue, with blue and black stripes in the center below a white bow tie. He wore a large light gray top hat with a dove and a green apple on it. His cane also had a green apple on the top. Both of them were smiling, showing rows of sharp teeth, white wings folded behind them.

“Caroline, listen to me, you can believe this dreamer. He isn’t just a sad face. He’s a miracle maker, pure good! But… don’t count on him to believe in your cause. He could be tainted and rebel, but we don’t know that. He could very well side with God and your parents. And he’s most likely looking for a way to hinder everything we’re trying to do if it means following God’s rules. But still, give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

“I…” Caroline began. “…we don’t know that. Look, he’s a crying bitch, and he probably doesn’t want to change.”

Aggy put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“The whole point of your hotel is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better and people can embrace their flaws! How can you turn someone away? You can’t. It goes against everything you’re trying to do. Everything you believe in.”

Caroline looked downcast. Her friend had a good point. She hated when people made good arguments against her. But it also gave her a chance to consider her thoughts. Aggy kept her grounded and added some cheer to her overall fake afterlife. Caroline smiled at her.

“You take care of yourself,” she said to Aggy.

“Caroline,” warned Aggy, “Unless you are serious about responsibility, do not make a promise with him!”

Demons often made deals with each other that often resulted in gaining power at the cost of one’s soul or freedom. Usually the one who initiated the deal would gain advantage. A demonic deal was bad in and of itself. Breaking an angelic promise could result in rejection, eternal torture and damnation.

“Don’t worry,” said Caroline. “I learned one thing from my dad.” She mimicked his low voice, “Ya don’t break trust with other angels!”

Caroline marched over to the Techno Angel.

“Ok…so Stal... You’re prissy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a too-dangerous risk. But I don’t.”

Glowing blue symbols briefly appeared around a concerned Stalaro, then vanished.

Caroline continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be flawed. After all, it’s in their nature and the sooner they realize it, the better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition there be no lessons or lovey-dovey speeches made.”

Stalaro twirled his cane and held out his smallest finger from his right hand.

“So, it’s a promise, then?”

The room was surrounded by a pink aura as light spirits roamed around the walls. The wind blew against Aggy’s and Devil’s faces.

“Nope!” Caroline yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking, no promises! I…hmmm…”

She paused in thought.

“As Princess of Heaven and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help out with this hotel for as long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Stalaro said with a slump of his shoulders and walked on. His cane vanished. Caroline did a thumbs up.

Stalaro stopped and spotted Aggy to the side.

Aggy went up and tickled him under the chin, much to his dislike.

He pushed her arm gently away. “Frown, my dear. You’d be too fully dressed if you were a man.”

He walked on, Aggy perplexed at being rejected. “Why does he have to be gay?” she mused, sadly. “Liking nude men…oh I could just swear right now…darn.”

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Stalaro asked Caroline.

“Uh well,” Caroline began. Stalaro peered at Aggy through his monocle below his left eye.

He stuttered. “You’re going to n-need more than that.”

Stalaro walked over to Devil Grit, who was sitting on a stool.

 “And what can I do, my business fellow?” asked Stalaro walking over to the dark furred spider, blushing.

“You can suck a dick,” Devil retorted in a grumpy tone.

“AH! Ok,” said Stalaro, blushing and stepping back. “Can it be yours?”

“Fuck off,” Devil added, pulling out a long knife from his belt.

Stalaro summoned his cane. “Well this just won’t do. You want others to cause trouble, yes? I suppose I can cash in a few favors to deaden things up!”

He snapped his fingers and the wall beside the fireplace cracked. The circle went dark, the fire going out. Ice cold water appeared to fill in the circle and a shadowy figure solely formed inside. Stalaro walked over and removed the dripping figure from the water. A large single purple eye was revealed.

Devil, Aggy and Caroline peered at the creature. With a balloon deflating sound and a puff of white smoke, the figure was revealed.

“This little sinner is Klutzy!” Stalaro announced with a worried smile, dropping the figure.

 A black-skinned short cyclops female landed on her face on the floor. She stood up with a grumpy look on her face. She wore a dark green skirt with a white stray cat off to the left side. Her arms and legs were white and stick-shaped. Several blue dots stood out from the lighter green color of her skirt. Her shirt was black with cyan paint spots off to the right. Her large eye took up much of her face; it was purple with a white pupil. Her sharp teeth were black. Her short hair was teal with a dark blue spot off to the left.

 “I’m Klutzy,” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “It’s a waste of time to meet you fools. It’s been a while since I made new rivals.”

Her pupil narrowed from side to side.

“Why are you all men?” she asked. “Have any women here? Or video games? Screw this place.”

She briefly picked up Caroline, then let go.

“Oh man, this place is boring!” she exclaimed. She ran over to a vase and proceeded to knock it over with her elbow. It shattered to pieces on the floor. She tossed couch cushions aside.

“It really needs a more manly touch, disorganized clutter’s more fun.” She grinned as she poured dirt from a flower pot onto the rug.

“Yes, yes, yep, yeah!” she yelled as she proceeded to break windows and knock down more stuff. Then she plopped down on a couch once the room was messy. “I’m bored. Make me some food or something.”

Aggy, Devil, and Caroline looked on in worry, Stalaro just stared off into space.

 A cat angel was working on a Rubik’s cube with colleagues. His furry face was black, framed by white fur. His little top hat was white with a blue band across it. A big teal bow tie was under his neck, over his black furry chest framed by white fur. His wings were a brilliant blue, with black and red mathematical symbols on either side: the pi symbol, E = mc squared, signs for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, among others. More symbols were visible within his two pointed ears. His teeth were sharp and purple and his long eyebrows were teal. His eyes were purple and sclera white. The angel placed a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “Ha!” he declared in triumph. Read ‘em and weep, boys! Full…whoa…”

He felt himself being transported in a flash of light to the hotel. Part of the science room that the cat had been in was merged with the hotel lobby…posters of the elements, the solar system and Biblical works of art.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on?

Then he brightened when he saw Stalaro. “You!”

“Ah, Core, my old friend,” Stalaro sniffed, his head briefly looking like it was in between antlers from a stuffed deer head on the wall. “You made it.”

“Glad to see you, you son of the sun!” Core said. “I just completed my Rubik’s cube after just an hour.”

The cube vanished as Stalaro looked on.

Core raced over to Stalaro and embraced him in a side hug. The deer-like man blushed. “So, what can I help you with this time?”

Stalaro blinked nervously. “C-Can we snuggle?”

Core laughed. “I mean, seriously, why’d you bring me here?”

“My friend, I’m doing some dirty work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services. If that’s okay?”

“You must be joking,” Core said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t think so, motherfucker!” Stalaro replied.

“You thought it’d be a great idea just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I’m some kind of tragic boy?”

“Maybe,” Stalaro sighed, as crying sounds came from his microphone.

“I ain’t doing no dirty work.”

Stalaro appeared behind him. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to greet and critique the guests at this fine establishment.”

He pointed his staff off toward a stand with vegetable drinks as claps and boos sounded from his staff.

“With your grumpy cat face and love of solitude…”

Core lifted up the corners of Stalaro’s mouth with his paws. “Aw come on, Stal. Don’t forget to smile once in a while!”

His mouth frowned once he let go.

Stalaro walked over to the stand. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can make this more interesting…if you wish.”

He conjured up a bottle of catnip with his finger.

Core stared with wide happy eyes. “What, you think you can buy me with sad eyes and some cheap catnip? Well, you can!” He purred and took the bottle with him.

 Caroline, Devil, and Aggy arrived.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Aggy squealed. “Brilliant idea to have healthy drinks!”

“No!” Caroline protested. “This is supposed to be a place that encourages sin! No some kind of, frilly, Zen, child’s play…”

Devil rammed into Caroline. “Shut up! Shut up! We are keeping this!” He pointed all his fingers toward Core and the stand.

Core noticed Devil Grit and slid up to him. “Hey cutie,” he flirted.

“Go screw yourself,” muttered Devil Grit.

“Only if you watch me,” Core joked. “Or more likely, Stalaro will watch you.”

 Caroline leaned in close to Core. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. You are going to go insane here!” She grinned, her teeth sharp.

“I lost the ability to go crazy years ago,” Core replied, sniffing the catnip.

 Stalaro walked in, an ever-present frown on his face. “S-so, what do you think?”

Caroline ran over to him. “This is horrible!” she spat.

“It’s amazing!” Aggy beamed.

Aggy leaned in close between Caroline and Stalaro, embracing them in a hug.

“This is going to be very disengaging,” Stalaro exclaimed. Dubstep sounds emitted from his mouth as he stared around with worry. He stepped away from Aggy. “Caroline, I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you.”

Stalaro changed his light blue suit into a black funeral outfit. He did the same with Caroline, Devil, Husk, Klutzy, and Aggy, who were all wearing black clothing from the early 1900s. The room changed, the walls now covered with Voodoo symbols, Christian crosses and deer antlers.

 “Take it boys,” Stalaro said. Light spirits appeared and played violins, a piano, and a flute in a sad symphony.

 Stalaro sang his reprise to Caroline.

  (“Stalaro’s lament Reprise”)

 “You’re on a mission

Your innocence fell

And it’s so dangerous but hey, I wish you well

Yes your blunt protests

Will send you straight to Hell

And I can’t bear to see you banished, or your soul up to sell”

  “Don’t bring your afterlife to an end

No matter what you say, I’m still your friend

We all have our wounds to mend

And you’re vulnerable feelings are real, don’t pretend”

 “Inside of every angel is love and emotion

They have values and lasting devotion (devotion to God)

While you recruit those around

Don’t be swallowed by the ground

The authorities can retrieve you tight and bound (no turning around)”

 “Here above the sky

Spread your wings and fly

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Haven Ho…”

 An explosion rattled the windows. Klutzy saw a door flying toward her face and she broke it in half with a karate chop.

The room and everyone’s clothing returned to normal.

 Everyone looked outside and saw a podium in the air, held up by flying metallic eggs. A familiar snake debater appeared.

“Look who it is harboring the striped annoying opponent! We meet again, Stalaro!”

“Do I know you?” Stalaro asked.

Tears came to Senor’s eyes. “Oh yes, you do! Watch this presentation!”

The eggs danced in the air, singing a song about Senor trying his best to rule Heaven. He read from notecards. “You all can’t compete with me. Your hotel sucks. I…shall…destroy it…with… my…”

Stalaro giggled and blushed.

Senor looked up from his cards in anger. “Not like that, pervert!”

 Stalaro snapped his fingers. A portal appeared and white tentacles shot out, knocking the podium off balance. The metal eggs knocked into Pentious Senor and he yelled, “Ow that hurt! Show mercy!”

Stalaro used a drop of his blood and the podium exploded in green smoke.

Senor emerged from the crater, arm shaking, fangs shattered.

“Shoot me with your ray gun,” said a metal egg beside him. Senor face-planted on the ground.

 Stalaro looked on, sadly while everyone else stared, stunned.

“Anyone hungry?” Stalaro asked turning around. “Please don’t make me cook jambalaya. It’s way too spicy and it nearly killed me! I much prefer tea and sugared strawberries, oh the way they melt in my mouth… but anyway, you could say the kick brought me straight into Heaven.”

Stalaro lead the way back to the hotel, the group following him.

“Yes sir, new changes are about to take place. Now…”

Stalaro waved his finger at the lit up sign above the glass, gem-encrusted building on the roof.

The sign changed from “Hazbin Hotel” to “Haven Hotel.”

“Stay tuned.” He finished with low whimpers.