#Why the fuck did I draw this in graphing paper

[mabelstone]

Divorcé

matt stone x reader

summary: part two of Professor Stone.

word count: 1435

note: god he looks so yummy here.

the start of this isnt great but bear with me.

gonna start adding some spice to this next chapter, i just dont want to chuck it in so predictably... theres a little tease here though so i hope you enjoy xx

if you haven't read part one, here it is <3

Part Two.

Professor Stone said goodbye to the class as routine, drawing out a long, irritated sigh as his phone buzzed violently on his desk. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, putting the phone to his ear, pinching the upper bridge of his nose in annoyance. He answered with a blunt, “yeah?”

You tried to eavesdrop but couldn’t hear over the rest of the students leaving the theatre. He was throwing his hands around, clearly in a very heated argument with whoever was on the other line. He leaned one arm onto his desk, propping himself up, the other still holding the phone to his ear. He made eye contact with you, holding his gaze a bit too long. “Look, I’m with a student right now,” he quickly pulled the phone away as you could faintly hear a woman on the other line yelling obscenities you couldn’t quite make out. “I’ll call you later,” he interrupted, hanging up and dropping his phone on his desk, shaking his head at you. “Women.”

“Trouble in paradise?” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

He scoffed, “please, it was hardly ever paradise.” He beckoned you over with two fingers, and you obliged, dragging your chair with you. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, shifting his things over so you had space next to him at his desk. “My wife- ex-wife, likes to burst my eardrums at the most convenient times.”

You hummed in understanding, not sure what there was to say. You wanted to prod, but thought it was best not to. Guess this explains why he’d been such an asshole recently. You looked over at his left hand, a prominent round indent on his now naked ring finger. He ran his hand through his short hair, sighing. “Anyway, what exactly was it you were struggling w-“

“Shit!” You jumped as you accidentally knocked his cup of whiteboard markers and paper clips over with your elbow. “I’m sorry, I’ll grab those.” He just shook his head, watching you scramble to the floor to fix your damage. “In my defence, who keeps paperclips in a cup on the edge of their desk?”

He watched as you got on your hands and knees, your black probably-too-short-for-uni dress riding up ever so slightly, giving your professor the perfect view of your thighs and the bottom of your ass. You felt it hiking up, reaching a hand around to pull the thin material down. “Sorry, sir,” you blushed, moving your bum away from him and continuing to pick up the paper clips.

“This your way of trying to get a good grade?” He humoured, his eyes never once straying from you.

You blushed harder, playing it off with a sarcastic, “you’re telling me it’s been this easy all along?” He smirked, something in his eyes changing. You felt hot, flustered, knowing your newly single, probably sexually frustrated professor just saw a whole lot more of you than he bargained for.

“Um, anyway,” you diverted, climbing back into your seat, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Pretty much none of it makes sense, especially numerical integration.”

He nodded, surprisingly not making a snide comment about your lack of intelligence for once. He began to explain, taking your book from you and drawing a graph. You tried to focus, but the way his eyes lingered on you while he spoke did something to you. You were sitting so close that your forearms would brush occasionally, his skin warm, contrasting how cold you felt in the air-conditioned theatre. Eventually, you completely zoned out, watching the way the muscles in his arm flexed as he wrote and moved your book around, the way his slender fingers flipped the pages, his hands veiny and massive in comparison to yours.

“Is this making sense?” He snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand mere inches from yours as he looked up at you.

“Uh- yeah, yeah.” You nodded in faux understanding, readjusting yourself to sit slightly closer to him, your knee brushing his thigh as you moved in toward the paper in front of you. “I’m just not too sure where this value here came from.”

It’s like a switch in your brain tripped suddenly. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t been laid in months, or maybe just the fact that you were so close to a male, but you suddenly realised just how attractive he was. He too pulled his chair in closer and pointed at the numbers in front of you, and this time, you understood.

“Oh! So, d is what we’re multiplying by?”

“Exactly, well done!” He shot you the most genuinely smile of his you’d seen yet, feeling your stomach drop when he lightly brushed your shoulder. “Alright, let’s move on to the next topic then.”

He began explaining the next topic as he did, this time your eyes trained on his face. His strong bone structure, his bushy eyebrows and beautiful green eyes, his face now shaven since you saw him the night before. His lips looked soft and wet, his tongue darting out occasionally as he scribbled in your book.

You found yourself completely zoned out again, imagining his large, warm hand resting on your thigh, his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear. You imagined the way he would switch his demeanour once you closed the small gap between your lips, finally shutting him up about the stupid calculus problems. You imagined how his hand would find its way to the back of your head, fingers pulling your hair with just the right amount of force. You imagined him pulling your hair harder, moving your head to the side to expose your neck where he would leave hot, open mouthed kisses, his warm tongue gliding over the freshly assaulted skin. You’d purr something so pretty, making him groan and roughly grip your hips, standing you up before running his hands up the back of your dress, his lips travelling from your collarbones to your chest. Fuck, he’d breathe, your eyes screwed tightly shut, just enjoying the way he made you feel.

You wondered how his lips felt, how he tasted, if he lingered after a kiss. If he was slow or aggressive, if he used just the right amount of tongue, or if he would bite your lip with need.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as his phone buzzed on the table yet again, probably his ex calling another time. He flipped his phone up, only to flip it back over and let out a frustrated groan, resting his head in his hands.

You didn’t know what to say. Well, what could you say? Was it inappropriate to touch him? You were just fanaticising about him shoving his tongue down your throat. You opted for gently placing your hand on his arm, lightly rubbing the area. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this,” was all you could muster up in your softest voice, offering him a sad smile when he looked up.

“It’s fine, really,” he chuckled, yet there was no humour in his tone. “Just don’t get married. Fool around while you’re young and attractive and make sure you pick the right one someday. Or you’ll end up an old calculus professor who wants to smash his phone into a billion pieces every time it rings.”

You laughed out of pity. “You could still do that, you know.”

“What? Smash my phone into a billion pieces?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, speaking without thinking. “I meant fool around.” You readjusted in your seat, him turning his full body around to face you, eyes dark. “You know you’re good looking, plus, you’re not that old… I think.”

He laughed, looking down at your thighs and shaking his head before meeting your eyeline. “You really want that good grade, don’t you?”

“I’m just being honest,” you smiled sweetly, your voice delicate as you looked down at your dress, fiddling with the hemming.

He cleared his throat, closing your book and gathering his things. “It’s getting pretty late; we should probably head off.”

You breathed out a barely audible yeah, before putting your things away. Neither of you spoke, and the tension thickening around you. Before you had the chance to say something dumb, Professor Stone chipped in.

“Would you like to swing by tomorrow?” He asked, returning your chair for you. “We’ve still got a lot to do if you wanna improve that grade.”

You chuckled, nodding in response as you walked toward the door. “Thanks.”

He simply gave you a smile and said nothing.

“Good night, sir.”

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #south park #trey parker #trey parker x reader #professor!matt stone #professor!au #matt stone smut #baseketball #doug remer #coop cooper #doug remer x reader

[october-writes]

‘A myth. I’m thinking about a myth,’ she said. ‘Which one?’ ‘The Ancient Greeks blamed all the world’s pain on the curiosity of a smart, beautiful and talented woman,’ Ada replied, her voice low as she placed the butterfly down between them, ‘Zeus created her as a trap to punish men for accepting the gift of fire from Prometheus.’

Emery gave a high pitched “ha”, ‘Pandora with the box?’

‘Actually, the original texts described it as a “jar”. But this was mistranslated as a box in the sixteenth century.’

‘I still prefer the idea of a box! It’s cooler and I like the symmetry.’

‘Fair enough. Either way, Pandora was overcome with curiosity and opened the jar-’

‘Box.’

‘Whatever,’ Ada chuckled and slumped back in her chair, ‘When she opened it, all the evils of the world were freed. Every sin, disaster and malady imaginable.’

Emery nodded sagely, ‘War. Famine. Hatred. Dial-up internet.’

‘Lukewarm showers. Itchy sweaters.’

‘Hang nails.’

‘Split ends.’

The two women looked at each other for a moment before bursting into mutual giggles.

‘You know what? Fuck that!’ Emery declared as their laughter petered out, ‘Pandora. Eve of the bible. Misogynist propaganda to blame women for all the evil in a world controlled by men. Thus reinforcing the necessity of patriarchal domination. Pandora was freakin’ framed!’

‘Probably,’ Ada slumped forward to rest her cheek against her palm, ‘Oh, I think about her all the time. Why did she do it? Was it curiosity? An insatiable thirst for knowledge? Was she bored? Or malicious? Or was it her destiny?’

‘Well, you like to understand causes and outcomes. Point A to Point B.’

‘You got a problem with straight lines, Locke? I thought you liked symmetry.’

‘Yeah, to a point! Too many straight lines drive me crazy. You want everything to square up. I’ve told you, it’s not realistic. Life is improv. A wild squiggle on the back of a napkin.’

‘I like things to work the way they’re supposed to,’ Ada jabbed a playful finger at her, ‘You’re a scientist. You should understand that.’

Ada’s early life, from birth to the disastrous months leading to her eighteenth birthday, had been planned by her parents with such perfect precision that she often wondered if they’d plotted their daughter’s career trajectory on graph paper. Every activity, every class and every grade had led to something greater. It had all happened so naturally, so organically, that she hadn’t questioned it. Her life had been a series of steps in the right direction, until she’d had no direction at all. No home, no family, no career.

Her existence had been on pause until she’d been offered her place onboard The Persephone . There had been no improv, no wild tangents, and no crazy adventures for Ada Wong. Forget the wild squiggle. Her life had become a black dot at the end of a sentence. Nothing, period.

The Persephone was supposed to be her chance to get back onto the ladder to somewhere. Instead she felt like she was climbing the side of a mountain, swinging from handhold to handhold, rising and descending as she navigated a crumbling, never-ending rock face.

‘I have a theory,’ Emery announced. She turned sideways in her chair and rested her arm over its back. She gestured with her hands as she spoke, drawing shapes through the air with her sky-blue painted nails, ‘I think Pandora wanted to understand the world. The jar... I mean, the box was the world. Pain, death, loss. They’re just the other side of pleasure, birth and love. You want one? Then take the other. Life’s a package deal. My mom’s a physicist and she taught me that nothing is ever destroyed. Energy, organic matter, the molecules that make a million decisions every day to keep us alive? They all wind their way back into the ecosystem one way or another, forming new cells, new organs, new bodies, new actions, thoughts...’

‘Connections?’ Ada asked with a sleepy smile.

Her friend shrugged back, ‘Yeah. I may be a biologist, but mark my words! The first law of thermodynamics is the most romantic premise in the entire freaking world. It’s never really over. No energy gets created in the universe and none is ever destroyed. We’re all here and we always have been. Maybe one day when we’re both dust, my atoms will take a new form and find yours again, Ada Wong.’

Read the rest on AO3

#fic: pandora #ada wong #resident evil fanfiction #aeon #leon x ada #ada x leon #scientist ada x test subject leon #character: emery locke

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

Apparently I'm rolling and my plan works just fine. I live, and Luddick decided to get back to me! He wants to call me (which I don't really like) and claims it is safer than communicating via mail.

Transcript of the first and second page: Luddick has high hopes considering connection on a train, and in case this works I wil provide him with information on Vasiley's murder and Eckhardt. Maybe I don't have to tell him all. Here's my list of questions so I don't talk gibberish:

What do you know about Eckhardt and his past doings?

Why do you think he is involved in Vasiley's death?

Are you aware of a person named "Heissturm"?

Do you know about the murder spree that had been going on in Paris?

Was Vasiley involved with artifacts called the Obscura Paintings?

Speaking of the devil, he wanted to speak to me within an hour. I did my best to be all alone and ended up in the restroom...anyway. He answered, I wrote everything down on two seperate pieces of paper to be more secretive and improvise professionality. So, here are his answers:

He was a few photos of Eckhardt and calls these "dossiers". Didn't want to show me. Apparently the alchemist is staying over at the Strahov whatever the fuck that is, and has been going in and out with another dude doing some kind of secret work.

He denied that Eckhardt is involved in Vasiley's murder, but I know better. He claimed he doesn't want to dig his head that deep into this and Vasiley had more ties with the Prague mafia.

There is no person he knows of with such name. He only has something on Eckhardt, Vasiley, and Grant Muller, again, whoever the fuck that is. It's supposedly a botanist and he said he had seen plants and botanical materials being carried into the Strahov.

Transcript of the third and fourth page: Continueing the answers Luddick gave me:

4. Here he had a good laugh, the Paris killings have been in every newspapers, of course he as a journalist would know. Some coworkers of his have been updating him, and some link the abrupt stopping of the killings to the murder of Vasiley who had ties to Paris. 5. He wasn't too sure of that. A woman already contacted him and wanted information -which he claims to have given her- and if I want it, it'll cost me.

So: I assume the woman is Lara Croft. I'm close to her footsteps now. Also, this chat opened way more questions than I'd like to admit. First, I want to get these dossiers Luddick mentioned. Then, I need to find out anything about Grant Muller and the Strahov. Also, the murder scene of Vasiley has been closed off by the police, but I could try to access it, no? I need an office, it's hard to keep track of everything. I need more on the Sanglyph, on the Lux Veritatis, on Muller, the Strahov, the dossiers.

While struggling with this I did some more research and came across a quote, this one: "Through the Golden Lion the Nephilim will enslave the sons of men and inherit the Earth". The Periapt Shards have a handle that is shaped like a lion, and I remember Fayolah's attached picture of a lion with three knives around it. Does this mean the shards are a weapon to enslave the world around Eckhardt? Can he use them? As far as I know, or think to know, Eckhardt is within this pact of Nephilim so the shards could be initially made by him (or the Nephili). What if they got stolen by the LV and used against him? Like in the drawing?

Transcript of the fifth page: Our train is stuck again. It's snowing, but at least we're approaching the Czech Republic. I found a graph on- a lot. It took me some time to fully read it. So, there were initially five Images of Blood, made by Eckhardt, which I know; which then got painted over and turned into the Obscura Paintings. Each othe them has a metal part within, and these can be combined to access the Sanglyph, this mystical weapon(?) Eckhardt has created.

Transcript of the sixth page: This is my scheme of the whole thing. The Sanglyph came first; then was split for whatever reason; then the apintings got commissioned, then painted over; then each painting got a peace and was hidden away, as I know Vasiley had found one of them on accident on a monastery. So if you bring all five parts together, it will please the Nephilim and make Eckhardt immortal? Is that how it works? I know that the mutilated bodies could be used for metals found within us, and the blood ties it to the Sanglyph itself, but this all sounds too...fantastic. Almost as if I'm tripping and sharing my bad trip with the whole world.

Transcript of the seventh and eighth page:

You won't believe what I found on Grant Muller. Or Müller, not sure. So I found a photo, it's a scan and bad quality but apparently depicting him. It was stored online on a journalist's cloud who found Muller so hilarious he wanted to spread his looks, I guess. I can revearse image-search him now and maybe come up with something better. His name sounds German, and with that I found even more. I can't quite grasp it and I'm almost in Prague, in an hour if everything goes smoothly. So, I'll print out his published srticles on mutagens. Mutagens can mutate DNA and damage it, like radiation, or simply change your eye color. But he's working on plants so he could be working on herbal medicine or something? I'm not sure what he's got to do with Eckhardt, but all I know of him so far is

he is 62 years old and born in Tirol, DE

his university expelled him for some reason and he never finished his degree

his works are heavily debated by biologists for being non-scientific

his current work place: the Strahov, Prague, CZ, who would have thought

he often references the Bible(???)

So he either is a Christian weirdo who wants to revive alchemy by plant matters or he actually works on something, some science, only Eckhardt appreciates. Perhaps he has a website? I will also try to find Vasiley's gallery. And, since I still have some time, I hope my dear "friend" “PassionforReseachion” will upload new data. I might be able to use that.

#tomb raider angel of darkness #traod #classic tr #tomb raider #angel of darkness #journal #aod #tomb raider series #lara croft #kurtis trent #classic tomb raider

[princessamericachavez]

YES HELLO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FJORESTER HEART TO HEART?

THE WAY IT PARALLELED THE JELLYFISH TALK??

Fjord following Jester into trouble and momentarily doubting but eventually being like “I don’t care” because he would follow her anywhere even against his best sense

Both of them sitting there, looking out at the night ocean... like they did on a ship so long ago when Jester first opened up about her sadness.

And now she’s volunteering some of it again: 

“Look, you have to see the moon from up here [...] This is where I used to come when, you know, I lived here and I didn’t really any friends. And I would dream about leaving the city and look out in the ocean and think about all the places I could go.”

Sigh

*breathes in*

SCREAMS

guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys

omg remember 

“And then I don't know what. I want to explore the world. I want to see the lands we haven't seen. I want to find the things that people are scared of and solve them or do whatever anyone else needs to do. But-- I hope she's a part of that.”

I AM STILL SCREAMING I SWEAR

Anyway, we are just getting started but look at Fjord’s faces through this bit 

Because that’s when he realizes that maybe... just maybe... Jester might want the same thing he does... maybe

And then, what does he do? 

He diverts attention to something funny: her drawing dicks on the tower. Why? Because Jester is talking about something sad and Fjord wants nothing more than to cheer her up. 

And then, wishfully, Jester brings up one thing that I’ve been thinking about ever since we found out these two coast kids had been in Nicodranas for years without knowing each other. 

“I wonder if I was ever sitting up here and saw your ship go by even knowing”

“I bet”

Invisible String_Taylor Swift.mp3 

okay but also

PLEASE GUYS 

if any of you have any art skills and wants to give me that poetic image of younger Fjord and Jester, each looking up wishfully... she’s lonely and young and on top of that tall tower looking at the life she craves to live and Fjord is looking at the city full of homes like he’s never had and they are unaware that they are looking at each other’s future??

GUYS PLEASE C’MON 

ok ok ok moving on so Fjord.... 

he brings up Vandran... awkwardly... nervous... stuttering about the whoel thing... 

and his voice suggests that his optimism in Eisselcross was a front put to keep the others calm. 

And then he says the magic words: 

“Would you come with me?”

“Of course!”

Like he has to ask, please. Like she hasn’t followed him everywhere since the very first day they met. Like she wouldn’t follow him to the ends of the earth just like he has followed him through plunging falls and vertiginous heights above volcanos. 

Still Fjord, deep down still that insecure kid who faked a whole personality for months, tries to give her an out. 

“I don’t know if being on the sea is of any interest to you or if you want to stay in Nicodranas because you can now and I would totally understand.”

BOI HE JUST TOLD YOU THIS IS HER LIFE LONG DREAM

LITERALLY

STOP FREAKING OUT

“There’s... That is my favorite place to be. I love it out there.”

THE WAY SHE LOOKS OUT WITH JUST AS MUCH LONGING

“And I feel like there’s so much that we could see and share... Besides fucking Darktow is out there and we spent less that one day on it... That can’t stand”

LOOK AT THEM

THEY ARE SUCH A MESS AND SO CHAOTIC AND THEY ARE BOTH SO CURIOUS AND EXCITED FOR NEW ADVENTURES 

Also, does his tone talking about that remind anyone else to the way he talked about the possibility of finding treasure to make Marion even fancier before she meets Jester’s father again???

Because I really feel like that’s the same mood. 

The same longing for more while trying to make her laugh. 

“I would love to go out there with you. I would love to meet Vandran.”

“We could make this our port.”

“We could make this our port”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

(sidenote this line alone could’ve sent me spiraling before they were canon... and still kinda does)

excuse me while i scream for the next ten minutes

And then Fjord drops the hint that he wants to still deal with some stuff in Port Damali

ONE SHOT WHEN TRAVIS

GIMME THAT ONE SHOT

YOU WANT IT

I WANT IT

WE ALL WANT IT 

UKOTOA WANTS IT

I WANNA MEET SABIAN AND GO TO DARKTOW AND GO TO PORT DAMALI 

PLEASE

“But... this city really is beautiful”

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT

AND YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU SAID THE JELLYFISH WERE BEAUTIFUL TRAVIS 

AND YET HE DID

“There’s always a home for us here”

hey hey hey hey remember that Tarot reading and Fjord’s future card being “home/the traveler”??????

BECAUSE i do

IF I MADE A DRINKING GAME WITH SHOTS EVERY TIME THIS CONVERSATION had a throw back for the campaign I WOULD END UP LIKE VETH

 “Or... maybe we could... you know... get our- our own place”

THE LOOK OF A WOMAN WHO JUST REALIZED THIS MAN WANTS TO MARRY HER (in paper graph again)

im sorry but the rest of the cast’s faces are too good to let out 

And then Jester gets SO EXCITED THAT SHE CAN’T EVEN SPEAK

because this boy

this man 

this man she loves

he wants to spend his life with her

this isn’t just a “come have adventures and fun with me” proposition 

this is a “spend your life with me proposition”

and while she can’t talk of course Fjord panics

much like she did after the “i love you”

because these idiots are really made for eachother and still stumbling through their own confusing feelings for each other even after so long as friends and they are so afraid of screwing it up 

But when finally she speaks, when Jester says “yes”... her tone isn’t just a “yes”... THAT YES SOUNDS LIKE AN “I DO”

And they are both so nervous and happy okay?

And then

OKAY LISTEN STRAIGHT OUR OF A ROMCOM 

He looks at her

and she meets his gaze

and they both look down blushing

and then she looks at him first

and he meets her gaze

and they don’t look down this time, this time is steady... because they both know they love each other

“I’m really glad that everything happened the way it did”

“Yeah, me too.”

Good and bad. Tumbles and crushes and heartbreaks and deaths and tears and fights and laughter and adventures and doubts and confusion and longing and pining and protecting each other and fighting together and falling and rising and catching each other and healing each other and looking out for each other  because it all lead to this... to this moment where they are together and so sure that they are loved and cherished and that this is where they want to be and there’s so much more in their future to look forward to

And Jester snuggles up to him and Travis does the tiniest move to show how he leans against her that just DESTROYS me 

and of course Fjord needs to make a joke then, to lighten the mood, because these two disasters are friends first and foremost and is in their chaos that they understand each other

and they have so many adventures ahead

i love them so much you guys

im going to miss them so bad

i love them

oh god

#fjorester #fjord #jester lavorre #critical role #cr spoilers #ONE LAST OF THESE FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE?

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I finally finished chapter 4. It is a bit longer than the others. I should probably mention that I have never picked a lock or broken into a safe before so it might not be accurate. I tried my best, though!

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

“So, how often do you break into councilmen’s houses, exactly?” His curious voice resonating, barely louder than a whisper, in the dark empty corridor.

She was crouched down in front of the office door, kneeling on the thick burgundy carpet. Her nimble fingers, holding the picks she’d slipped from a hidden pocket of her dress, working quickly to get the door open.

She smiled, “Often, enough.” Does he disapprove? She wondered. Probably not. He’s breaking in as well, after all. The lock finally clicked. She let out a deep sigh of relief. Kaz may have trained her well, but she knew he was a better lock pick than she could ever hope to be. He was always so calm. Unfortunately, her nerves threatened to get the better of her every time she had to use this particular skill on a job. She was glad the first hurdle was behind her, but she knew cracking the safe would prove to be even more daunting.

“Let’s go,” she said, standing up and placing the picks back in her hidden pocket.

The door opened silently revealing an elegant office. Ornate woodwork decorated the lower half of the walls. Tasteful art pieces were scattered around the room. Kaz would love this, she thought, looking appreciatively at a DeKappel mounted on the wall behind the cluttered desk. If we have enough time, I’ll take a quick peek at these documents. There might be something interesting in there.

“According to Brekker the safe should be behind that bookcase” Nikolai gestured to a tall bookcase in the left corner of the room before swiftly making his way to it. “There should be a mechanism somewhere…” He was looking for it, moving his fingers around the back of the piece of furniture. A loud click resonated. The bookcase swung on its hinges, revealing the door to a steel safe. Nikolai turned back to her, wearing a wide grin. “This is fun! Maybe I should take a page out of your book.”

She raised a questioning brow, looking in his direction, making her way to the safe. “What do you mean?”

He let out a low chuckle. “I think I’ll start breaking into Zoya’s room, move stuff around. Maybe leave a note or two. It’d be a good way to annoy her.”

“Why would you risk your life like that? I mean I don’t know her well, but I have a feeling she’s scary when pissed off.” She thought of Zoya’s blazing blue eyes. She must be gorgeous too.

“You have no idea how absolutely terrifying she can be” he mused. “but a King needs entertainment.” His grin was utterly wicked. Y/N felt her heart skip over a beat.

She smiled back. The idea of Zoya trying to murder the king amused her to no end. “Well, it’s your funeral,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Now be silent, I need to focus.” She took a seat on the floor facing the safe.

She reached for the combination dial, gently resting her fingers on it. She breathed in deeply. Contact points. This is the easy part. She slowly spun the dial listening for the telling sounds. Click. A bit more. Click.

There we go. Park the wheel. Okay. Now I need to figure out the number of wheels. Sankta Lizabeta, please, don’t let there be too many.

She started turning the dial slowly again. First turn. Click. Second turn. Click. Third turn. Click. Fourth turn. Nothing.

She let herself breathe again. Three wheels. Three numbers. Six possible combinations. She could do this.

She quickly turned the dial to the right, letting it complete multiple turns before stopping at zero. She rolled her shoulders. No time to waste, she thought, here I go. She spun the dial slowly to the left. Click. More. Click. She repeated the process over and over, starting from a new number each time. She knew lock manipulation was time consuming but Saints this was taking way too long.

She found herself wishing she’d brought paper with her. This would’ve been a lot easier if she could’ve graphed her findings as she went instead of having to memorize them. Wylan is brighter than I am. He should be in here, helping.

She finally narrowed it down to three numbers: 12, 13, and 89. Six possible combinations. She was already behind schedule. She had to try them quickly.

She tried the first combination holding her breath. It didn’t work. She could feel Nikolai’s gaze on her. She heard him fidgeting by the door.

Saints, it would’ve been so much easier if I could’ve just drilled through this damn door. We’re screwed if I can’t get it open in the next minute.

“Fuck, I wish Kaz had sent Jesper in.” She was starting to panic. Second combination? Not this one either. This was taking too long. She was too slow. She was going to fail Kaz. Even worse, she was going to fail Nikolai.

She tried the third combination to no avail.

“Why would a sharpshooter be useful right now?” He sounded mostly confused, somewhat curious, and maybe a bit anxious.

Her fingers worked quickly, turning the dial following the sequence of the fourth combination. She groaned. It hadn’t worked.

“Well, a Fabrikator would be a lot more efficient at cracking a safe,” she said simply. Only two combinations left to try. This has to work.

“Oh, thank the Saints!” she exclaimed leaving no chance for Nikolai to reply. The penultimate combination had worked. 13-12-89. This Saints forsaken sequence of numbers had finally opened the safe. She had been lucky the safe wasn’t one of the more recent models. This one had already been difficult enough to crack.

She grabbed the blueprints, quickly rolling them up. She pulled her skirts up her right thigh and slid the precious documents in the sheath safely tied there. Nikolai closed the safe’s door and locked it. They were already late. “Come on. We have to go.” She was moving towards the door as soon as her skirts had fallen back into place.

Nikolai followed suit, quietly closing the door behind them. He quickly moved aside, giving Y/N access to the lock once more. She was already holding her picks.

Her hands were shaking slightly making it difficult to lock the door. She could’ve sworn the small click of the lock was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. She had never been more relieved. She rose quickly. She was ready for this night to be over.

Footsteps rang out in the hallway. Someone was coming up the stairs. It would be hard to explain what they were doing in the deserted hallway. They couldn’t be discovered here. She looked around hurriedly but there didn’t seem to be a good hiding place anywhere close.

Nikolai turned back towards her, “Do you trust me?”

“I –” Nikolai hadn’t given her a chance to answer, his lips already pressing against hers in a passionate kiss. His fingers gripping her waist tightly. She felt her back hit the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of her lungs. Nikolai deepened the kiss, tilting her head slightly to the left. His lips brushing against hers, his tongue sweeping her bottom lip. Her lips parting slightly into the kiss. His hands were moving up her back, pulling her closer to him. It felt like his hands were everywhere. His pleasant, intoxicating smell filling her nose, dulling her brain. His body was now pressing her hard against the wall, the doorframe digging painfully into her back. Her fingers, now tangled in his chestnut locks, had somehow found their way to his hair. She felt is fingers caress the skin at the back of her neck. All rational thought was completely erased from her mind. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. A small moan escaped her throat. Her heart was racing or maybe it was Nikolai’s? She couldn’t be sure.

A small cough reached her ears.

His lips left hers, drawing a plaintive whimper from her, only to attach themselves to her neck. She was fully aware of the next moan that escaped her, loud and breathy.

Someone cleared their throat next to them. A guard was standing there, staring at them. He looked somewhat amused but mostly uncomfortable.

Oh, it dawned on her, Nikolai is giving us a cover. It felt like a cold bucket of water had been poured on her head. She tried pushing him away, but Nikolai didn’t release his grip on her waist. Her cheeks were still flushed. She had to find a way to get her wits back. She was Ainsley Ó Ceallaigh. Not Y/N Y/L/N. It hadn’t been Nikolai, King of Ravka, kissing her. It had been Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, her husband.

“My apologies. I certainly don’t mean to interrupt” the guard was sporting a crooked smirk “but this part of the mansion is closed to the guests.” He didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss.

“No need to apologize for doing your job, my friend,” Nikolai told the guard, his tone warm. “This is all my fault. You see I just couldn’t resist my wife’s beauty.” He pulled her in to place another kiss on her lips. Nikolai was playing his role to perfection. “We’ll go back to the party. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any further.” Nikolai’s hold on her waist loosened, his palm sliding to the small of her back. He used it to push her gently towards the stairs.

“Have a good night” the suggestive tone of the guard’s voice sent a fresh wave of blood to Y/N’s cheeks.

They heard the door rattle as they started walking down the stairs. The guard was checking it was locked. He would be able to report to the councilman that no one had entered the office. By the time Van Verent would realize documents were missing, Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh would be long gone.

-----

Nikolai kept his hand pressed to Y/N’s back. She hadn’t said a word since he’d kissed her.

He knew most Grisha in Ketterdam were indentures. He had even seen the pleasure house tattoo on her left arm. Kaz had told him she was now exclusively working for the dregs but her tattoo from the House of the Blue Iris was still visible. “She keeps it as a reminder” Kaz had said. A reminder of what, though?

He’d probably crossed a line by kissing her like that. Not even giving her a chance to consider his plan. Time had been short. They didn’t have any other options. He only hoped that he hadn’t caused too much harm.

Nikolai guided her through the crowd, smiling and nodding at various dignitaries until they reached the doors leading to the garden. They should be meeting Jesper and Wylan by the porcelain cabinet, but he needed to make sure Y/N was alright first. He could feel how tense she was, her muscles stiff under his palm.

The cold air seemed to bring her out of her daze. “What are you doing? We shouldn’t be here. We should –” he could hear the insecurity in her voice.

“I know exactly where we should be.” He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he couldn’t quite keep the concern out of his voice.

“I’ll be perfectly fine once we get back to the plan” she spat at him. He was surprised to see how quickly she had gone back to acting as if he was the bane of her existence. He had really thought they were making progress and had almost become friends. At least, that’s what he had hoped.

She needs time. “Fine, let’s find Jesper and Wylan.” His voice was cold, perfectly controlled. He offered her a hand. He didn’t want to push, but they still had to play their part. He felt her cool fingers close around his hand.

------

Wylan’s eyes were wide, probably in surprise. They were late and they weren’t supposed to be coming from the gardens. She only hoped her lips weren’t bruised from the kiss. She didn’t want Wylan to think they were late because they had been unprofessional. She knew he’d have to report it to Kaz. Wylan was by far the worse liar of the crew. He couldn’t keep anything from their boss.

If Kaz thought Y/N was compromised, that she couldn’t do her job… She knew he wouldn’t send her back to the Blue Iris. Or did she? Kaz was known to be ruthless after all. If she fucked up the job? If she wasn’t useful anymore? She’d been with the crows for a long time now. She thought of the crows as her family. But did Kaz really think of her that way too? She’d like to believe Kaz loved her the way the same way she did. She couldn’t be sure. She was spiraling. She had to get a grip. They still had to play the part.

Jesper raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She ignored it and plastered a smile on her face. “Hello,” she had to keep herself from grimacing. Her voice had been all wrong, way too high. She tried correcting it. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

She saw the look of absolute confusion in Jesper’s eyes. Wylan looked more concerned than confused. This is bad. “Ketterdam has the most surprising weather, doesn’t it?” Wylan smiled. This was the phrase they had agreed upon to convene the success of their operation.

-----

The party had settled down about an hour later. The number of party guests dwindling steadily. Jesper and Wylan had taken their leave about 15 minutes before Y/N and Nikolai, keeping up the pretense of only having met that night.

They were now safely back at the Hendriks’ house, standing around the table in the dining room, examining the blueprints.

“Everything go according to plan?” Kaz inquired.

“Kinda” her voice was unsure. She knew it was better to tell Kaz now. She fiddled with the hem of the tablecloth.

“What do you mean ‘kinda’?” His face would’ve been unreadable to most, but Y/N could see the apprehension there.

She felt Nikolai tense up by her side. Her mind kept travelling back to the feeling of his lips on hers. She needed to focus. “It took me too long to open the safe. We were behind on the schedule and a guard came back to the hallway before we could leave.” She met Kaz’s eyes. “Don’t worry, the door was locked.”

“How did you explain what you were doing in a part of the house clearly closed to guests?” Zoya sounded curious.

Nikolai was the one to answer her, “What could a handsome man and his gorgeous wife possibly be doing in a deserted corridor in the middle of a party?” The sarcasm that laced his voice painting the picture clearly for everyone.

Y/N lowered her eyes, the blueprints suddenly very fascinating to her. She felt her cheeks flush once again.

“Quick thinking. The guard believed it?” Kaz didn’t sound mad. She risked a peek at him. He was looking directly at her. From the look he gave her she knew they weren’t done talking about this.

“No need to worry, Brekker.” Of course, Nikolai couldn’t leave it at that. He had to make it worse. “We made it believable.” He winked. “Also, Y/N is way too modest about her acting abilities.”

tagged: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov imagine #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #grisha #nikolai series #my fic #ari's fic #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years

[chipper-smol]

how did you learn to draw so well? I'm 19 and I feel like I'm way behind everyone else my age with my art, and it's really discouraging.

*rubs my hands* this is a complex question so you guys should prepare for another long wall of text cause here we go

So everyone is different. Everyone has a different drive and collection of feelings in their gut when they draw. We all have different backgrounds about why or how we started drawing. What works for me might not work for everyone else, but hopefully I can help guide you in the right direction.

That being said, i’ve always been an artist like it wasn’t even a decision I made when I was younger I just was. I had big ideas I needed to just GET OUT and so I drew massive stories of stick figures and horses and dragons on towering piles of printer paper. That hasn’t changed, but I can go for weeks without drawing a single thing because I have nothing sparking in my brain but im rambling here lemme get to my points

Everyone is an imposter: No one is ever 100% comfortable with their artistic ability and if they are they’re very likely to be an ass. Go look at the Dunning-Kruger Effect which is a pretty interesting psychological mindset. In a nutshell, the Dunning-Kruger Effect is where a person who has very little knowledge in a skill thinks they are a master at that skill, whereas a person who has is a master in that skill thinks that they aren’t good at all. I still recommend watching the whole thing when you get the chance, its only 10 minutes long.

So where you are right now is the most difficult part of the art process, lemme show you one of my favorite graphs which helped me when I was in spots like you are.

You have two parts to your artistic skill. One is the ability to draw itself and the other is the ability to perceive how good that drawing is! You know whats happening? 

You’re growing! You’ve started the next step! You see your art and think it could be better because your brain is more skilled than your hand. So how do you get better?

I could say something like “look up tutorials” “challenge yourself” “do studies” but if i’m honest that advice never helped me, it just made me struggle more, so we’re going to go back to your mindset.

Accept your achievements!

It’s! Very! EasY! To compare yourselves to others! It’s! Very! Hard! To recognize how far you’ve come! Give yourself some credit! Praise yourself! Look at your art and point out what you like about it. We all have a little puppy inside our hearts that just wants to be called good boys/girls. If you don’t take care of that puppy and only give it negative feedback then you’re going to definitely struggle to get started.

When someone compliments you, take it! Don’t try to be polite or say “ah but my lines aren’t that great” or “my colors could be better,” accept it! Some stranger or friend saw how good you are and actually took the time to verbalize it because it meant so much to them! If some stranger on the internet thinks i’m good, then why can’t I feel the same way towards my own art? Trust me, you’ll start feeling more confident. You’ll go from “am I good? :(?” to “I AM good! >:D!” 

Get good at what you want to get good at!

I love expressions, subtle moments that speak a thousand words, character flaws and drives, dynamic movement and DRAGONS!! So I drew and draw those things! They make my brain go brrrr

I used to hate drawing backgrounds, but recently I had an epiphany. I can make a background be its own character. It doesn’t make sense typed out but in my brain that association is key. I’ve connected the joy I have with drawing characters to a thing I normally avoid and now I feel a bit more inclined to put in the extra effort. Let the feelings you get when you draw the stuff you like leak into the stuff you don’t like to draw as much and you’ll find yourself growing even more.

What do you if you don’t want to do something in the process of drawing a picture? Say like, lineart?

Simple.

Don’t do it. Skip it. Do what you want instead. Many of my hollow knight art is just sketches, but you guys have seen my fully completed pieces. I cant make that shit every day hell no. I do what I want. I also discovered a new way of shading and lighting that is SOOO much easier than what I was doing before because I WANTED TO BE LAZY!! (put your colors down, select from opaque, new layer, make new layer a multiply layer, gradient tool, use the gradient tool to make one big shadow, erase where you want the light to come from, BAM! SHADING!)

Which leads me into my next point.

Just say Fuck it.

Do you want to draw Grimm in a dress? Fuck it. Do it. If someone has a problem with that then its their problem. They can unfollow you or block you but fuck ‘em. This is your life and damnit you are going to enjoy it. Remember when you were a kid and you just drew? Just draw. Have fun. It doesn’t matter if the hand doesn’t come out right, it’s there and it looks good enough.

Once you give yourself that much needed break, your interest in seeking ways to improve will come naturally. After drawing hands without caring, you might just want to know out of curiosity instead of frustration about how you can draw the knuckles right. It’s a very important mental shift from “I want to be good at art because I have to be” to “I want to be good at art because I want to be.”

Make your art about you and not because of someone else. Be selfish. Be careless. Do what you want and have fun again.

TL;DR Accept that you are better than you give yourself credit for. Your mental mindset is extremely important for your artistic growth. Make your art someone else’s problem and enjoy yourself.

#G muses #long post #ramble bamble #hopefully this helps <:) #Anonymous

[hermannsthumb]

Could you please write #43 grandparents/neighbors one?

43. we’re having our family meal at my grandparents’ house this year so fingers crossed your parents still live next door and you grew up to be even hotter

from winter writing prompts here

oh god this one got so long. sorry everyone! thank you to @k-sci-janitor for the alien bit because it was so fucking funny

------------

Holidays have gotten a little weird to manage since Newt transformed into a fully-fledged adult with an apartment and a job and stuff, so while he hasn’t made it to the big Geiszler celebration in Germany every December since starting college out of elementary school, he still tries to make a point of dropping by his dad’s for dinner and a movie or something to fill his holiday quota. It’s fine by him; he loves his family, but they’re definitely overwhelming, and trying to submit final grades and work on syllabuses for the next semester all while distant relatives ruffle his hair and ask him when he’s going to hit his growth spurt is not his idea of a relaxing time. It’s a constant point of contention between him and his dad. This year more than most, apparently.

“Your grandmother misses you!” he tells Newt sadly over their Chinese takeout. “She calls me every week to ask how you are, and why you never visit with them. Every week.” He waves a fork at Newt. “You’re breaking her heart.”

“I’m in the lab, like, twenty-four-seven, dad,” Newt sighs. It’s a well-rehearsed conversation at this point, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome. Especially because he knows his dad is lying about the phone call thing—Newt is a great grandson and texts his grandmother plenty, thank you very much, he would know if he was breaking her heart. “I’m working straight through winter break this year. Seriously.”

“That’s what you did last year,” Newt’s dad says. “And the year before that…” Newt turns the volume up on the TV to cut his dad off before he can segue into the next part of his argument, which is (usually) that Newt needs to work on his personal life, maybe settle down, produce some grandkids of his own. Or at least adopt a cat. Also well-rehearsed.

He’s not sure why he says what he does next—maybe in a desperate attempt to distract his dad further. Maybe because of the sudden onslaught of childhood memories the mention of his grandparents’ house brought on. “Hey, do you remember that boy who used to live next door to grandma?” he says. “He had the weird haircut and always dressed kind of funny?” Old-fashioned, and a little too formal for the sort of things that little kids tend to do, climbing trees or playing in the mud—sweatervests and polished loafers and starched-white knee-highs.

Newt’s dad blinks at him. Newt half expects him to declare that Newt is nuts, and that he has no idea what he’s talking about, like this is one of those horror stories where the childhood friend turns out to be some ghost who died fifty years prior. The clothing would match up, he guesses. But he smiles in recognition a moment later. “You mean the Gottlieb boy?” he says.

“Gottlieb,” Newt echoes. It sounds familiar enough. “Hermann, I think. When I’d stay with grandma for the summer we would play together every day. I wonder what he’s doing now.” Hermann was a smart guy, a real geek like Newt; he used to carry a graphing calculator around in his pocket and build the most goddamn pristine model spacecrafts Newt had ever seen. Hermann’s dad shipped him off to a prestigious boarding school the last summer Newt spent there, when they were around twelve or so. Newt started at MIT not long after. “Dude’s probably designing rocket ships by now or something.”

“You could ask him yourself if you came with me,” Newt’s dad laughs. “The Gottliebs never moved away, and their children actually visit. I’m sure your Hermann visits, too.”

“Ha,” Newt says. “Yeah.”

It’s snowing by the time Newt and his dad finish their movie, and Newt (fearing his dad’s driving even in ideal conditions) declines the offer of a lift home to trudge his way through it to his T stop instead. It’s nice to have the chance to be alone with his thoughts, anyway, because he can’t seem to get funny little Hermann Gottlieb out of his head. What is he doing now?

A quick Facebook search on the train produces a few Hermann Gottliebs, but none of them promising—none of them have the brown eyes or strangely angular face (devoid of any baby fat even that young) Newt remembers, none of them are from the right German countryside, none of them went to a preppy English boarding school. Google (utilizing the information Newt does have) is a little more rewarding, and by the time Newt presses the button to request his stop, he’s scrounged up a decent amount of info: Hermann Gottlieb has a doctorate in astrophysics, Hermann Gottlieb publishes papers at a slightly terrifying rate, and Hermann Gottlieb turned out kinda hot.

As Newt stares down at a slightly grainy current photograph of his old friend—haircut and clothing unchanged, a cane in hand, some round librarian glasses perched on the end of his nose, wide mouth twisted into a scowl—he suddenly recalls another thing about Hermann Gottlieb: the summer Hermann was sent away to boarding school was the summer that Hermann kissed Newt goodbye, shyly and tearfully, under the shade of the tall maple tree in his yard. It was the last time Newt ever saw Hermann. It was Newt’s first kiss.

“Oh, boy,” Newt says.

He texts his dad when he gets back to his apartment. When do we leave?

Newt feels like the belle of the fucking ball when he steps into his grandparents’ house a week later, snow dusting his shoulders, small suitcase clenched in his hand. His cheeks are kissed; his scarf and hat and leather jacket are brushed off and tossed onto a coat rack; his hair is in parts smoothed down (too messy!) and ruffled (too flat!); he’s hugged more times than he has been in the entire last year, probably. “Still playing around with bugs in the dirt, eh, Newt?” his grandfather booms, tucking Newt into the crook of his arm with enough force to knock Newt’s glasses off.

“Actually,” Newt squeaks, scrambling for both what he remembers of his very rusty German, and his glasses before they can hit the ground, “entomology isn’t really my main focus at—”

“Newt’s studying jellyfish now,” Newt’s dad declares proudly. “He went on a diving expedition this July.”

“Diving? How exciting,” Newt’s grandmother says.

“Yeah,” Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on. “Yeah, it was fascinating, I was lucky to get the funding for it. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of—”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Newt’s cousin says.

“My little Newt’s a daredevil!” Newt’s dad says.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Newt says. “As long as you’re—”

“What happened to that nice man your father said you were dating?” Newt’s grandfather says. “With the, the what was it, the poetry? The poet? We thought you’d bring him!”

Newt flushes. Trust his dad to talk up some random guy Newt dated in March like it was a long-term affair and not an elongated one-night stand that fizzled out after three weeks. Though maybe that one’s on Newt—it’s not like he mentioned the one-night stand part to his dad, after all. He definitely didn’t mention that the guy ended it with a poem, too. “We broke up,” he says, weakly. He wriggles out from the throng of the crowd. “Look, it’s so great seeing you all, but I’m actually, like, really tired, soooooo…?”

“Oh, of course you are,” Newt’s grandmother says. She pats his head. “What a long flight you must have had! We’ll send someone up for you for dinner—you can have your old guest room.”

“Cool,” Newt says.

He scurries up the stairs.

The guest room he slept in during those summers is almost exactly the way he remembers it, but a little dustier—the floral quilt on the bed, his grandma’s sewing table crammed into the corner, the bookcase stocked with a weird combination of kid’s books and illustrated encyclopedias that Newt used to pore over for hours as a kid, often with Hermann. Newt draws back the embroidered curtains and peers out the window at the Gottliebs’ snow-capped house next door. Hermann’s window was directly across from his. It still is, technically, though the curtains (these navy blue and embroidered with little constellations) are pulled tight, and Newt has a feeling that Hermann hasn’t set foot in his old room in well over a decade. Two decades, probably.

He remembers the one summer he showed Hermann how to make a soup can telephone, and they managed to string it all the way across between their windows before discovering it kinda didn’t work as well as Newt said it would. He remembers when Hermann’s dad banned him from the Gottlieb house for tracking water all over their front hallway after he and Hermann went wading in the creek, but it was really Hermann who did it, because he forgot to take his shoes off and they got soaked, and Newt just took the fall for it so Hermann wouldn’t get in trouble. And when Hermann asked Newt to play astronaut with him, and Newt insisted on being an alien and mimed the chestburster scene from Alien, and Hermann freaked out so bad he fell in a mud puddle and got grounded for ruining his clothing, and Newt got grounded for that and for watching Alien when he wasn’t supposed to, and they spent the following few days staring sadly out across at each other before Newt’s grandma finally got tired of his moping and sent him to work weeding the garden. He remembers knotting a little friendship bracelet for Hermann out of embroidery thread he found in his grandmother’s sewing basket and Hermann vowing to keep it until he died.

Newt’s half of the soup can phone is still on the windowsill, though the string snapped and crumbled apart years ago. He picks at the peeling Chicken Noodle label, so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the light suddenly seeping through at the edges of Hermann’s curtains, or the way they’re pushed open—almost.

Hermann—real, live, adult Hermann, botched haircut and round glasses and all—stares out at Newt with a shocked expression on his face. Newt drops the can with a clatter.

Then he waves.

“Hey, Grandma?” Newt says, poking his head into the kitchen. Tonight’s dinner is a massive pot of soup boiling away on the stovetop, dessert a mountain of cookies and tiny pastries on serving platters on the counters. Newt hasn’t had food that looked this good since he moved out, to be honest. The intersection of Newt’s sad lack of cooking skills and his attempts at vegetarianism means he eats a lot of boxed mac-and-cheese and frozen Vegetable Lovers’ pizzas. “Are you—?"

“Oh, Newt!” Newt’s grandmother says. She sets down her wooden spoon. “Are you feeling rested, then?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Grandma, I was wondering, could I—uh—maybe run some food over to the Gottliebs? To be…neighborly? We just have so much, and—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Newt’s grandmother says. “They keep to themselves, mostly, but I can’t imagine they’d turn it down. You might even see your little friend again! What was his name? You were so fond of him.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, quickly shoving cookies into a red-lid plastic container. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He tucks the tupperware under his arm and nearly wipes out on the icy front path he runs to the Gottliebs’ so fast. Before he can so much as catch his breath and knock, their door swings open; Hermann, dressed in a tacky Hannukah sweater, arches an eyebrow at him. “I saw you sprint over here like a bloody madman,” he says, in blessed English. He must’ve remembered how shitty Newt’s German was when they were kids. “Hello, Newton. What’s so terribly important?”

His voice got deeper—expected—and he swapped out his German accent for an English one somewhere along the way. Probably at his stuffy boarding school. He also got taller—he’s got a few inches on Newt now, but Newt admits that’s not exactly hard. God, he’s even hotter in person. “Uh,” Newt says. Why is he here? Oh, right. He thrusts out the tupperware. “I brought some cookies over for you?”

Hermann peers down at the offering over his glasses. His forehead wrinkles. “How considerate,” he says. He pulls an olive-green parka on and steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. He taps at a peeling porch swing with the end of his cane. “Just leave them there. Would you like to take a walk?”

It’s freezing, and snowing, but for some reason, a walk sounds like the best idea in the world right now. “Yes, please,” Newt says, and chucks the cookies onto the swing.

“I must say,” Hermann says, after their meandering walk around the Gottliebs’ yard takes them to the old maple tree. The branches are bare, but thick, and shield them from most of the falling snow. Hermann’s breath puffs out white in front of his angular face. The last time I stood here, Newt thinks, he kissed me. “I really did not expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Newt admits. “From what I remember, you and your family weren’t—uh—well, very close. I didn’t think you’d be coming back to share in the holiday cheer with them, is what I mean.”

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “That’s certainly one way of describing it. Yes, I suppose you’re right—my father is a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Newt laughs awkwardly, unsure whether to agree or attempt to weakly the defend a guy who openly hated him for being a bad influence on Hermann most of his childhood; he’s grateful when Hermann continues and saves him the choice. “This is the first year I’ve come home in a long while. My brother’s just had a daughter, you see, and I thought I should start getting used to playing uncle.”

“Oh, congrats,” Newt says. Hermann shrugs, and Newt has the distinct feeling that this is Hermann’s older brother, who used to dissemble Hermann’s telescope and hide the pieces around the house when Hermann annoyed him, and tattled on Newt and Hermann to Hermann’s parents the one time Newt snuck in to see Hermann after he got banned. He always made Newt thankful that he was an only child. “Same here, actually. Not the uncle thing—I mean I haven’t visited since I was in college. Too busy.”

“I know,” Hermann says, and then adds teasingly (in a way that makes color flood Newt’s cheeks and his heart beat just a little faster), “I’ve looked you up online. Er—quite a bit recently, in fact. I was curious. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I,” Newt squeaks, and then coughs. “I mean, I guess? I like…science.”

“I oughtn’t be surprised,” Hermann says. “You were always giving me bugs, and salamanders, and funny little frogs—”

Newt liked bugs, and salamanders, and frogs, but he liked Hermann more, and the gifts had a lot more to do with the latter than the former, because what kid wouldn’t want bugs or salamanders or frogs, right? Not that Hermann ever appreciated them—especially not the worms Newt would pluck from the sidewalks after rainstorms. He thinks he got grounded for that one, too, because his grandma wouldn’t believe that he really wasn’t trying to terrorize the poor Gottlieb boy. “And what about you?” Newt says. He pokes his elbow into Hermann’s side. “Dr. Gottlieb? Guess those model rockets paid off.”

(“No, Newton,” Hermann would snap at him on the rare occasions he would allow Newt to watch him piece one together, “the glue hasn’t dried yet. You have to be patient, or else it’ll fall apart.”)

“Not yet,” Hermann says, “but I hope soon.”

Hermann smiles at him. A snowflake catches in his eyelashes—his long, pretty, dark eyelashes. “Do you remember when you kissed me here?” Newt blurts out.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d forget,” Hermann says. He reaches out and tucks a piece of Newt’s hair up into his hat. “I like your tattoos—I saw the photographs on your social media accounts. They suit you.” Newt wonders if this means Hermann saw the shirtless selfie he posted on Instagram. “I’m also pleased to see you’ve gotten your braces removed. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience last time.”

Then he leans in and kisses Newt. Again, technically. It’s so light and brief Newt hardly believes it even happened. Their glasses clack together, and when Hermann pulls away, he straightens out Newt’s.

“I confess,” Hermann says, “that I’m wholly pleased to see how you’ve turned out. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me. I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”

“Jeez, dude,” Newt says, blinking at him, his head swimming just a little. Hermann looks smug. “Not, uh, not too forward. So. Uh. You wanna get dinner or something this week and catch up?”

Hermann snorts, and nods.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[featureenvyproductions]

Don't think I talked about this yet. My latest project takes place mostly on this planet. Further details under the cut!

What is this planet? I don't know I didn't name it because I forgot and never needed it in the story lol. *cracks knuckles* so like I said before bc I did my opposite thing of what I usually do, I did very little worldbuilding to start (and did most of it as needed as I went) HOWEVER I ALLOWED MYSELF ONE INDULGENCE and overthought the planet a bit. It's essentially a super earth that orbits a red dwarf in the last known viable system within the reachable universe that was recently populated by some people. I guess. I mean realistically that's dumb because there probably won't be life by this point at all but like my plot needs to happen so let's pretend. I KEEP REMINDING MYSELF IT'S FICTION. IT'S FICTION EJ YOU ARENT GETTING A GRADE STOP PANICKING.

Ahem anyway so I did some research and looked at some papers and graphs of light wavelengths that reach the surface of planets orbiting dwarf stars etc etc and shit like that and came to the conclusion that most of the plants are gonna be good at absorbing IR and maybe near-IR light wavelengths which is most of what they have to work with. Realistically a planet like this would be a LOT dimmer than I've made it in the picture, but you know you have to be able to see shit when I draw it so pretend it's dim. Also my main characters can see into the IR part of the spectrum to some degree anyway so it's mostly about seeing what they're able to.

"But EJ why are the trees Like That?" Glad you asked it's because this planet has roughly 3 times earth's gravity so everything is a little chonkier and sturdier to hold up.

I would also like to mention that the planet is tidally locked and most life is inside the strip of perpetual twilight, which incidentally is also where the story lives. Tbh this is mostly so I can have a vampire walking around most places without getting sunburned lol....My vampires can't be permanently killed by stars and have the least trouble with ones like red dwarfs (they'll get sunburned but only a sun-like star or bigger/hotter/brighter will do any actual vampire frying...and the older they get the harder it is for them to actually turn to dust and it takes a while for it to happen), but they can still get a bit of an ouch. I didn't get to go into it in the story, but the way I figured is people only think sunlight kills vampires because the time it takes them to reform if left there is greater than the lifespan of a human. In my universe what happens is like eventually, if given a reprieve from sunlight, they'll reform. Even if that means the sun has to burn out and their particles have to find their way back to each other in space. Like it'll happen. And it's about as fucking awful for the vampire as you'd expect. Also if they're far enough away star light doesn't affect them (which of course should make sense anyway whether you agree with my other rules or not bc why else would no vampire in fiction ever die under a starry night sky right)

#Eyan Eternal

[mateasha]

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy.   fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 3335 tags:  original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy 

chapter 5: thoughts

Itaru wished he did not hurry up.

He wishes that he also did not say yes to his damn boss...

I mean, he guesses he did do it voluntarily, if you can call an impulsive decision fueled by some unseen force something that he did voluntarily. His boss would say otherwise. 

But something about this room is only a little empty, even if it’s filled to the brim with people— and by brim, he means the table is full and there are two extra people (Chikage and Itaru) presenting their dumb pitch about this and that, imports and such, and the sorts. There are only so many ways you can say “Hey! Give us shit and we’ll give you shit and maybe just a little money! Who knows!” but Chikage seems to have found all of them, including the most long winded speech, just to make it look like he’s smart.

Which he is, Itaru isn’t saying he’s necessarily dumb. He is smart.

But even if Chikage had him say that whole spiel about “never knowing unless you try” (which, corny as hell by the way) it would still work out in the end for Itaru, maybe even gaining more respect. Maybe he’ll ask Chikage after the meeting.

Well, if Chikage decides that he likes him today. 

The room is abnormally silent, devoid of any other voice, as the Japanese translator sits there, staring at the man whose English is paced and worded like a damn poem, in awe. Itaru doesn’t expect any less from the hacker, whose stats are basically so high that no one can compare. Except a specific stat that basically everyone knows, but Itaru tries not to think about it. But his voice really does project across the entire room, drawing attention to him, which isn’t very uncharacteristic for him, because he’s heard this before. His voice with a certain cadence to it, hitting every point, and maybe throwing in a couple company buzzwords in there, just to sound a little bit smarter. What the fuck is “synergy?”

He looks slowly around the room, making sure no one is staring at him— which no, there isn’t anyone, thank God, as he takes a look at the surroundings for the 10th time, at the same concrete walls painted with the brightest shade of white and the glass barrier separating them from the main office, covered in layers of white blinds, and the presentation glowing from the flatscreen TV put up in the middle of the room. (which he wishes he could have, but Sakyo still won’t let him put up anything, which makes sense because Itaru definitely could not be trusted with a drill for the life of him.)

The carpet is a bit scratchy underneath his feet, as he slightly grinds his shoe sole into it, the friction of which can slightly be heard across the room, but surprisingly, no one has called it out, maybe out of politeness, or maybe because of Chikage’s still loud, and booming voice across the room. Chikage decided to take the most part of the work back at the hotel room, and Itaru really took the easy part, but it’s fine. Chikage wanted the hard part anyway. It just means that maybe he won’t get the best benefit out of it, which would be perfectly fine. He just came here for the merit. It would look good on his resume too. If he ever decides to get a new job-- which, after this, he should start planning. Once he uses all his vacation days. 

But he doesn’t understand why some eyes are drifting over to him, when Chikage is interesting enough with his injection of larger English words, again, to the amazement of the translator, who wasn’t expecting this. But it does make him look worse to the board of people who heard him slightly stutter when he stumbled across a couple words, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? He tries to affirm himself for a bit, but he knows that it could’ve been better-- then again, a lot of things could’ve been better about his presentation. He wasn’t the most prepared, and maybe that would cost him the deal, which is why he doesn’t understand how and why he was so laid back about everything that was going down with the work, which he decides to blame on Chikage. Rightfully so, as he had occupied his thoughts far too much and put him in some emotional dilemma, if that’s what you could call it, when he keeps sending the most mixed emotions towards Itaru.

There is a time and place to be thinking about these things although, now not being the place, but he still thinks about it anyways, 

“Any questions?” Chikage asks this for the final time, finally wrapping up the presentation that felt like it lasted for a lifetime, which it probably did. Probably. Itaru decides to tune out the rest as Chikage accepts a couple questions, and answers some that go without asking-- which is to be expected from someone who does enough and maybe just a little bit more.

“I actually have a question.”

“Ah, what is it?” Chikage smiles at the old man, the smile seemingly genuine to others, but not to Itaru.

“No, for your partner. I’m not completely clear on the outline of this… plan.” He turns his head to Itaru. “Could you go over the third slide, please?” 

“I… Well… Uhm… Can I say this in Japanese?” Itaru can feel himself tensing up even more. Was I not descriptive enough, I don’t know what I could even go over? “Well, depends what part you’re confused about.” Good non-answer. Could buy you time, he thinks to himself.

The interpreter says the words in English, the man nodding in confirmation. He says some English to the interpreter, and the interpreter parrots it back. “Well, why should we use your company as a means to get our products to Japan? Is there a market in Japan for these things?”

Itaru freezes.

“Well, there is, just look at the slide before that, there’s definitely a market for this stuff, just look at those graphs. Very high.“ Itaru is panicking which Chikage takes notice of as Itaru fidgets a bit with his hands, trying to structure a damn sentence, which he can’t seem to do after that damn question. 

“Well, what my partner is trying to say is that there is a market for this stuff, and currently, as a testing area, we are sure we, as a company, have the best idea on how to release this product, as we believe, and are sure that these specific areas of Japan are in need of these things.”

“Hmm… I see. We will continue this meeting tomorrow. Thank you for your time.” He bows as he gets up, the rest following in suit.

They both speak in unison. “Thank you for your time.” They bow as each exits, Chikage walking over to the briefcase, closing the laptop and packing up the papers into the folders in a very methodical and neat way.

As each one of them gets up and walks to the door, Chikage heads to the middle of the large table, closing the laptop, unplugging the USB and packing everything up into his bag, Itaru following closely behind as the last person leaves. Something about it is intimate though, as if the room got smaller with just the two of them, but still with the same white concrete walls, surrounding them, with the same office lights coating the room in fluorescent light that washes out the little to no color found in the room.

“Sorry.” Itaru blurts out with no thought.

Chikage looks behind him, like Itaru is the weirdest person alive for that singular moment. “Sorry for what?”

“I fucked up.”

“Chigasaki, it wasn’t that bad. You could be better prepared for that, of course, but you tried to deal with it. It’s more effort than I’ve seen you put in before.”

Itaru isn’t insulted, even when most people would have been. He knows he put more effort into this than usual. “Exactly. This was really avoidable. And basic too.”

“And? It already happened, Itaru. No point in dwelling on it.”

“...I guess you’re right.”

Chikage finishes packing everything up quickly. “I know I’m right. Not to say I’m all knowing, but I know this much. It was a good effort. Everything can’t be perfect.” He walks to the door and opens it, standing there for a bit, and looking at Itaru. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m tired.”

Itaru looks at Chikage for a bit, stopping to stare, and his face filled with a hint of confusion. “Okay. Thanks.” Itaru walks out, Chikage following behind, picking up the pace to match the walking speed of Itaru and walk beside him across this oddly large office hallway, complete with simple office decorations and furnishings, passing by a couple filled meeting rooms and empty ones with the lights off, and the sun shining in. He looks at Chikage, who, for some reason, is focused on walking forward, which is kind of weird, but he doesn’t mind. It gives him time to think. 

Chikage was nice to him for some reason today, again, despite how he treated him last night, which was… odd. But maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s had his bad days, and come off cranky. He “hmmm”s in his head, a bit skeptical, as he knows Chikage is never one to let his emotions take over for a bit. That’s just who he is. Or maybe he let his guard down? If anything, he’s just completely confused as they turn the corner and see a more open space with an elevator, which is when Itaru decides to stop looking.

Chikage, surprisingly, did not notice the fact that Itaru’s bright red pink eyes were practically glaring into his soul. Just staring in front of him, deep in thought. He presses the button and waits for a bit till the doors of the elevator open, and 2 people come out, and they both enter simultaneously. Itaru presses the 1st floor button, and clasps his hands together near his waist as waits.

“How have you been feeling?” Itaru breaks the silence to start just a bit of small talk to test the waters. Chikage doesn’t respond, seemingly just staring at the closed elevator doors as they descend to the 2nd floor, seemingly not stopping, or feeling longer than usual. “About the presentation… do you think we’ll get the deal?”

He still doesn’t respond, which puts an end to whatever he was planning to say after. The elevator doors open andr they both walk out, and head to the car.

It’s still quiet between them, with maybe even a static, oppressive air surrounding them, stopping him from talking, and just in general preventing even the simplest conversation between them. He gets into the car in the parking garage quickly, Chikage taking his sweet time to start the car.

It’s quiet in the car till Itaru breaks the silence. “How long will it take to get there?” Still no response. Itaru looks intensely through the front window for some reason, when he doesn’t even need to be paying attention, and his phone is literally just in his pocket, but for some reason he’s rendered completely immobile by the fact Chikage isn’t responding when he shouldn’t be. It’s Chikage. Chikage probably doesn’t care. Definitely does not care. It just doesn’t make sense for him to not even respond with a “hey I’m focused on driving.” Because for some reason, he’s not talking again, or even saying that he needs to shut up because he’s focused on driving, which is also a valid response to him, as he completely understands.

But he doesn’t and he stops thinking about this as soon as Chikage pulls up to the front of the hotel, handing his keys over to the valet out front, and showing them their hotel card, the low murmurs of thank yous vibing across the two, and walking in swiftly, and into the elevator again, out, and into the hotel room.

He slides the card into the slot and opens the handle for Chikage, who walks in briskly, and with a sense of urgency, as he looks at his phone again with a sigh. Itaru goes to the wardrobe to grab clothes to rest in for now until he eventually goes out to get food, because he wants to try the fancier pizzas here. But until Itaru needs something is it quiet. “Hey, can you pass me the remote?” No response, like usual, where now it makes no sense, because he’s just searching things up on his open laptop next to the desk. “Are you gonna talk to me?”

“Why would I talk to you? We’re here on business. We’re just working together. It isn’t business. So I don’t care.” He starts to type slightly more quickly, a change so subtle that even he doesn’t notice, the pounding of the keys getting harder and harder.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Itaru sits up in the bed, looking at Chikage, biting the inside of his mouth so hard that it feels like he might draw blood, the taste of iron coating his tongue. “Listen. I don’t fucking want you to treat me like we’re long time friends if you’re gonna say we’re ‘only here for business.’ You can’t have it both ways, Chikage. Make up your damn mind.”

No response. The silence is deafening.

“I just… want to know.” For some reason he’s on the verge of crying which is stupid, and he shouldn’t be crying, but despite him feeling  it becomes more than a struggle to get the rest out. “I just want to know if we can actually be friends. I don’t want you to give me false hope. I don’t want you to flick some switch in your brain that says that you’re allowed to be nice to me, and then you turn it off so quick as if it never happened.” 

No response. It’s ear piercing now; like if you dropped a speck of dust on the ground you would even be able to hear that, as Itaru gets more and more red, and Chikage’s face stays the same. 

“Okay. I got it.” He gets out of bed quickly. “I understand.” He stomps off to the shower, taking clothes with him and some lotion to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” He deadpans, and practically slams the door of the hotel bathroom.

Chikage sighs. 

God, he feels like shit. 

Does he? 

Maybe he doesn’t know himself, but all he knows is that there’s some odd pit in his stomach that probably just hints quite a bit at him feeling like shit. It’s fine. It’s not like he hasn’t been through this before. All he has to do is push through it. It is odd. Considering all the shit he’s done, he doesn’t think he should be feeling bad. He means, he’s killed people, no remorse, just straight up dead, and that was fine. He can hear Itaru in the bathroom seemingly slamming shit on the counter, and dropping the soap with an “ugh.”

The feeling scrapes at his nerves, stretching him thin and fragile, as if he was just an elastic fabric that, of course, is still intact, but is transparent, being stretched far too much. The walls of the hotel feel both confining to him, and a bit too loud. He doesn’t think that loud is the correct word choice, but he thinks that too. But here he is, still typing away at his laptop; nothing coherent of course, but at least it’s something. Not really. It barely distracted him. He runs his hands through his hair, sighing again, and looking out the window that gives him an overview of most of the city, the cars running through the street like little bugs, but the moonlight can barely break through the raucous light of the city. He can still see it though, so he gets up to stretch, even though he doesn’t feel as if it’s necessary. He walks over to the window, looking up at the moon, and then looking down at his feet.

He takes a seat on the bed, for no reason, looking around a bit, before getting up and walking slowly to his chair, some document still wide open on his screen, and the shower somehow still going-- probably in preparation for tomorrow. He still acknowledges that skin care is important somehow, even when Azami isn’t there to drill it into their heads. It’s been three years. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Things change. He’s more than well aware of that. But somehow, he still feels stagnant, even with everything. The world has reached a standstill, but that doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t need to change anymore. Not since… he skips right over that thought, but he knows that he shouldn’t, because it should bear no weight anymore. Seems like everyone else has gotten over it.

Hisoka.

It’s hard to talk about still, for him, and maybe for others. Who knows, when they can visit Hisoka’s grave. He guesses it gives people more closure. But the more he thinks about Itaru and Hisoka, the more he wants to care for him. He means, just being the slightest bit related to him puts people in danger. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced Itaru on this trip. Well, he didn’t. Itaru said “yes” for some unbeknownst reason that confuses him still to this day.

Hisoka.

But even then, the thought still comes to his mind. It felt nice. Felt nice to genuinely care for someone, after leaving them for so long, to protect them and still be able to have them, and be able to hold them after so long. Maybe it’s the situation. Chikage doesn’t want to hurt Itaru. That sentence makes him almost keel over, but he acts normal as the faucet is turned, and the sound of running water suddenly stops, and he can hear the shower curtain, as if every single environmental sound is turned up to max volume.

Hisoka.

He’s dead. That’s the end of that. He’s dead, and he shouldn’t care, and he should have learnt his lesson, because anything-- almost anything would be better than him being here, right now. He should have said no. He should have said no to the mission, and he should have said no to his boss, but he didn’t and now he’s paying the price. Filled with emotional turmoil and hurt. Thinking back, maybe he was just unlucky. Or maybe it was fated. It was fated for them to meet again after being away for so long, so why, why would some higher power put them together. It’s as if the big man upstairs wants him to suffer-- even if he doesn’t exactly believe in them.

Hisoka.

The thought tires him out, and he finally notices that he’s stopped writing things on this report, which he tries to start again, but he doesn’t even know where to gather himself after… after that. He’s still thinking though, which makes himself throw back his head in anger? Disappointment? Whatever. Whatever emotion it is, he could honestly care less. He’s stressed and he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He’s tired. He’s so tired. It’s taken a long time to find that out.

Hi--

He doesn’t even finish the thought this time. He stops thinking. He doesn’t know how, but he’s completely stopped all brain processes that go on. This is better. It feels calm. His vision feels like it’s cleared up, and he can start typing whatever he was typing in this document for some reason. Itaru walks out of the bathroom, completely clothed, and looking a bit fresh.

“I’m going to sleep.”

No response.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

#a3 #a3! #a3!chikage #a3!itaru #a3! chikaita #ckit #chikage utsuki #itaru chigasaki #a3 fanfiction #a3! fanfic

[readinglikechickensoup]

could i request an hurt/comfort bill centric poly losers fic? preferably about his stutter as I love to project haha. Love your work sm:)

Thank you so much

Words: 926Pairing: Polyamorous Losers Club (College age) Summary: After a period of high fluency, Bill Denbrough’s stutter returns in full force. The Losers are there to listen and try to help him cope. Warnings: Strong language 

AO3 Link

When Bill came home after a dark day, a wriggle out of your own skin day, he felt like he’d swallowed a bowling ball. He slammed the door, dropped his stuff, and locked himself in the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to smile until he felt the cracks widen. He turned on the faucet and cried into his hands.

Someone rapped gently on the door.

“You alright?” Mike asked.

“G…g-go away.”  

He paused. “I’m not gonna do that, Bill. I’m gonna be right here until you open that door.”

“W-why?”

“Because I love you,” Mike replied, a strange pitch to his voice. “You know that.”

Bill sat down on the toilet lid and cried harder, curling in on himself. He knew Mike could hear him, but he couldn’t stop. He just wanted the day to end and to wake up a different person.

A more insistent knock.

“Come out. Please,” Beverly said.

Bill didn’t bother responding.

“Hey,” Eddie said, “you shouldn’t be hiding in the bathroom anyway. Do you know how dirty bathrooms are? Do you know how many germs you’re picking up, being in there unnecessarily? Have you heard of e-coli?”

“How is that helpful?” Bev demanded.

Bill turned on the tub faucet. The roaring blocked out the content of the voices, leaving only the echo, like a television set turned low. As the tears dried on his cheeks, he picked at a daisy on the yellowed wallpaper.  

“H-he th…th-thrusts h-h-h.” Bill took a deep breath and began again, quietly. “He th-thrusts h-his–”

The door flew open and Richie walked in, Hawaiian shirt flowing behind him. “Hey Billy. What’s the problemo? Did Mike let you watch Field of Dreams again?”  

Bill shrugged.

"Right.”

“Sorry, Bill. We told him not to,” Ben said.  

Richie gave him the finger and crouched to Bill’s level. “How ‘bout you come look all angry and sad in the kitchen? It’s only, Eddie really needs to use the bathroom, and this is our only one. We can turn on the kitchen sink if you really want."  

"Wh…wh-wh—fine.” Bill stood and strode out into the kitchen. He threw himself into a chair at the table, pulled his knees up to his chest, and stared out the window. He traced the tops of the trees with his eyes, over and over again until they unfocused and doubled.

When his eyes hurt, he dropped his feet to the floor and looked at the table. Richie was next to him, tearing a bagel to bits; Eddie and Stan were bent together over a statistics textbook; Ben was drawing a floorplan on graphing paper; Bev was sketching; and Mike was reading a novel.

“Wh-what are you guys h…h-home for?”

Everyone looked at him.

“I called them,” Mike said, sliding a bookmark between the pages. “You were in there for over an hour.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

Bill shook his head, staring down at the table.

“Jay-sus,” Richie said, throwing the remains of his bagel at Eddie. “Som'tin is clar-ley wrong wit ya, an’ until ya talk ta us, oy’m gunna–”

“F-fuck off,” Bill exploded. “It isn’t f…f-fair. W-words come so f-fucking easy for you.”

“Is this about your stutter?” Stan asked, closing the textbook. “Did something happen?”

Bill rubbed his eyes. “S…s-s-s…” He burst into tears.

They descended on him. Richie knelt on the floor and buried his face in Bill’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his torso and holding him tight.

Mike draped his arms over Bill’s shoulders and rubbed soothing circles into his chest.

Beverly held one of his hands, pressing kisses to his palm, knuckles, and wrist.

Ben held Bill’s other hand to his own chest. Bill could feel his heartbeat and his slow, deep breathing.

Stan wiped Bill’s tears away with soft tissues, dropping feather-light kisses on his forehead and between his eyes.

“Hey, no, hey,” Eddie whispered, squeezing Bill’s knee. “We love you, okay? I love you. Ben loves you. Mike loves you. Richie loves you. Bev loves you. Even Stan loves you. Everyone loves you, okay? We love you; we love your voice; we love all of you.”

Gradually, the boiling frustration in Bill subsided and the tears stopped coming.

“What happened, bluebird?” Stan asked softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bill’s mouth. “You can tell us.”

“You can tell us anything,” Mike said.

Bill took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve been s-so fluent l-lately. I thought it was g…g-going away. Then t-today I had a p-presentation…I couldn’t s-stop…so I l…l-left.”

Richie tightened his grip on Bill’s middle.

“I’m s-so t-t-tired of this. It’s embarrassing. I f-feel so s…s-stupid,” he admitted.

“You are not stupid,” Bev said.

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I know,” Stan agreed.

“It’s okay to feel however you feel, but you should know that it isn’t your fault,” Mike said gently. “I’ve read up on it, and good and bad spells are pretty common.”

“Y-You read up on it?”

He shrugged. “I love you.”

“Your voice is great the way it is,” Richie said, voice muffled by Bill’s stomach. “I wouldn’t change ya.”

“None of us would,” Eddie said.

Ben stood and kissed Bill’s cheek. “I’m gonna order pizza. You guys go pick out a movie.”

Bill ended up on the couch, tucked between Stan and Mike, eating his favorite pizza and watching Ghostbusters.  Richie sat on the floor, hugging one of Bill’s legs.

Finally, some of the heaviness drained from Bill’s chest. He rested his head on Mike’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

#poly losers club #hurt/comfort #poly losers club fic #bill denbrough stutters #it fanfiction #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hanscom #stanley uris #losers club #it #no pennywise #college age losers #tw: strong language #tw: insecurity #tw: crying #tw: stuttering #readinglikechickensoup

[quercussp]

Long-horned beetles and dusty archives

Rating: T

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Dan was climbing up the marble steps of the museum full of dread and resentment. It was Sunday morning, and all his classmates were probably still asleep, or nursing their hangovers from the party before. But Dan couldn’t do that, no. Because Dan skipped too many classes in his General Biology course, he now would have to make it up with extra credit. By working at some sort of museum with some grad student that needed help sorting bugs. Yuck.

Spoiler: the grad student is Phil.

Authors note: A belated birthday present for @insectbah. You are my people and I treasure it immensely.

A gigantic thank you to @redactednp​ and @alittledizzy​ for encouragement and fantastic beta work.

Warnings: there are mentions of insects in this fic. Also very light swearing.

[read on ao3]

Dan was climbing up the marble steps of the museum full of dread and resentment. It was Sunday morning, and all his classmates were probably still asleep, or nursing their hangovers from the party before. But Dan couldn’t do that, no. Because Dan skipped too many classes in his General Biology course, he now would have to make it up with extra credit. By working at some sort of museum with some grad student that needed help sorting bugs. Yuck. The reason Dan took this class in the first place was because people told him that the professor was chill and most people got A’s. They forgot to mention that in order to get an A you actually had to work. It’s not like Dan was interested in any of this shit. Carbon cycling, ATPs, exoskeletons… all that sounded like pure gibberish and had absolutely no use for him in his future career.

Not that he knew what that future career was going to be. Or if there was even going to be one. Or if he was just gonna go back to working at the department store, spending his evenings playing video games by himself and being miserable, eating stale pizza and wasting away his life without any happiness whatsoever. Ok, Dan was a tad dramatic sometimes, he could admit that. But for now he was trying to get through college that his father insisted he go to, barely scraping by with grades to keep up his scholarship and just randomly taking classes in everything, in the hopes that something will rock his world and make him feel like a human and not a blob. So far bio101 was not turning out to be that.

Dan took a pause in front of the tall wooden doors of the side entrance of the museum with a small sign saying “Employees only”. Here goes nothing.

He pulled the door open and walked into the entrance hall. A bored looking security guard looked up from his phone as Dan approached the security desk.

“Can I help you?” the guard asked eyeing Dan suspiciously.

“Yes, I’m here to see…” Dan checked the note on his phone “... Philip Lester? From the entomology department?”

The guard searched around his desk. “I don’t have any notes from anyone, was he supposed to meet you here? Can’t let you in without an employee signing you in.”

Dan felt the familiar shiver of anxiety of not being in the right place stir up in his chest. “I don’t know, sir,” he replied. His professor just said to show up at 8 am. Nothing else.

“Can you call him?” the guard asked.

“I don’t have his number. I guess I’ll just wait here.”

“Ok,” the security guard replied, going back to his phone.

Well this was perfect Dan thought to himself. It was 8:05, he woke up at an ungodly hour to be here, and now he couldn’t even get into the building. Just perfect, everything was perfect.

He sat down on a bench next to the entrance and absentmindedly scrolled through his twitter feed. Why did he even decide to take this stupid class? And why did he have to miss three seminars in one semester? He could have been in his tiny bed under his blanket right now, sleeping.

Dan was almost ready to give up and just go home, when he heard loud steps approaching and a disheveled looking guy ran out of one of the doors and towards the security guard.

If Dan wasn’t irritated from being up so early and being forced to wait for 20 minutes, he would probably have noticed that the guy was very cute. As in very very cute. He was tall, almost as tall as Dan, had a messy quiff of dark hair, glasses and a smile that just made the whole room light up. He was also wearing a sweater with little bees embroidered across it and Dan could see that the socks that were peeking out from under his skinny jeans were mismatched. Ok, maybe Dan noticed all this despite being sleep deprived and grumpy. Maybe it was very hard to miss.

“I’m so so sorry I’m late! You’re Dan, right? I’m Phil. Sorry, Dan, you must have been waiting for so long! I totally lost track of time!”

The guy was out of breath and looking so apologetic that Dan’s annoyance melted away entirely.

“No it’s fine. Yeah, I’m Dan. Nice to meet you” Dan stood up and awkwardly offered his hand to shake Phil’s, only to realize that it was super sweaty and retracting it to wipe on his jeans just as Phil extended his. “Shit, sorry,” he said as he attempted to shake Phil’s hand again. Phil’s hand was nice. It was sweaty and warm, but also very very soft and smooth. His fingers were long and thin and bony and Dan was definitely not intensely looking at his fingers at all, that would be totally weird.

If Phil thought that Dan looking too intently at his hands was weird, or that their handshake lasted significantly longer than was socially accepted, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you for coming Dan, I’ll take you up to my office, we’re going to have so much fun! I’ve wanted to have someone help me out forever!” Phil swiped his ID card at the gate (his ID card was covered in animal stickers and Dan felt his heart skip a beat).

Phil took Dan up the stairs and through long semilit corridors of the museum. Dan never realized what museums looked like beyond the showrooms. For some reason, he just assumed that working in a museum meant like wiping glass off of showcases or something. He didn’t even think of the fact of just how many rooms there were beyond what the visitors got to see.

While they walked through the corridors Phil kept rambling.

“Jeremy, I mean Professor Knight, said that you want to help out with indexing of my latest collection. I mean… I guess I don’t know if you actually want to. But if you don’t like it I can find something else for you to do. I don’t want you to be miserable of course! It’s actually fun! And if you have to leave early, don’t worry! I understand, I mean I won’t tell Jer.. Professor Knight.”

Dan stayed quiet. Phil’s eyes were really nice. They were such a magical blue color…

“This is me!” Phil came to a halt at a door covered in posters from top to bottom. Most of them were different bugs, but there were also a couple of old magazine pages and a drawing of an octopus waving a pride flag. Dan’s heart did another skippity skip and he felt his neck getting really warm.

Phil took out a gigantic keyring full of keys and started going through it. He finally pulled out a small silver key and unlocked the door, gesturing at Dan to come in.

They walked in and Phil turned on the light. The office was tiny and overflowing with things. There were shelves lining all the walls, full of books and papers and random boxes. Some of them were covered by what looked like scientific posters with graphs and weird figures. The whole office smelled like dust and old books and also some other particular smell Dan couldn’t place.

“You can leave your stuff here if you want,” Phil said, gesturing to a desk that was almost entirely covered by papers. “Let me just gather some stuff and we can go to the collection room”. Even though Dan had known Phil for like 5 minutes, he felt that he could tell that this was Phil’s desk immediately. The whole side of the desk was covered in layers and layers of stickers. There was a slightly sad looking cactus standing on the desk with a LED light over it. The cactus was decorated with a paper chain of little beetles. A gigantic unicorn glass was on the corner of the desk, overflowing with pencils and pens, and with a rainbow flag sticking out of it. There was also a giant mug with what looked to be a starbucks logo on it, except it had a bug drawn on it and the periphery said “Entomology Coffee Co.”

Dan threw his bag on the chair on the desk and took a step back, putting his hands in his pockets.

After a little bit of rummaging through the mess on his desk, Phil let out an “aha!” and turned to Dan, holding a pile of notebooks, a laptop and some papers. “Let's go!” Phil said, opening the office door and turning off the light.

They continued walking through the maze of the museum corridors.

“So Dan, you’re a 3rd year, right? What’s your major?” Phil asked.

Dan immediately froze up on the inside. It was a totally normal question to ask, it wasn’t Phil’s fault that Dan was a total fuck up and didn’t know what he was doing.

“I… I actually haven’t declared one yet,” Dan answered quietly, blushing a little bit.

“Oh! That’s fine, I also didn’t know what major to declare! It’s ok, you have time!”

“Do I though?” Dan asked before he could stop himself. “Aren’t I supposed to know what I’m doing with my life?”

“Oh Dan, no one knows what they’re doing with their life!” Phil answered smiling kindly. “Getting a degree in something doesn’t suddenly make you know who you are.”

They made another sharp turn and started climbing some stairs.

“But you know what you want to do, right? You’re in grad school, you like these bugs and everything.” Dan replied.

Phil slowed down for a moment and looked at Dan. “I guess in some ways? But knowing that I like looking at insects doesn’t really help me know what I want to do in life. We’re all as confused as you are. We just fake it better.” Phil gave Dan a cheeky wink and continued walking. “The most important thing is to figure out what makes you happy, and then find a way to do that as much as possible. And there’s no time limit on that. For now, my insects make me happy, so I’m doing that. But who knows what’s ahead? Don’t pressure yourself, Dan.”

Phil was smiling so warmly at Dan, it was a bit shocking. Dan couldn’t remember the last time he felt so warmed by someone’s smile. He mumbled “Thank you,” quietly and looked away. He could feel a tear forming in his eye and the last thing he wanted was for Phil to see it.

There was a whirlpool of feelings in Dan’s chest. A load he didn’t know he was carrying suddenly felt lighter. Everyone around him kept telling him that he needs to make a choice. Do things. Declare a major. Find a job. Decide what team he batted for. Just everything. And here was a person, an older person, telling him that it was ok. Dan did not know how badly he needed to hear that.

They reached a large hall filled with gigantic wooden shelves with drawers.

“Welcome to the entomology collections Dan!” Phil exclaimed, as though he was showing Dan the most precious treasures in the world. Somehow Dan felt like he was warming up to bugs. If Phil was so happy about them, they couldn’t be bad, could they?

Phil placed all his stuff on a large desk next to a window and went to pull out a couple drawers from the shelves.

"Okay, so here's the specimens I collected over the summer. I need your help to put them into the museum database and make tags for them." Phil started explaining the process as he opened up a dirty looking notebook. "So here's my field notes. Sorry about the handwriting, just ask me if you can't read something."

Phil’s handwriting was indeed very bad. Very very bad.

“So for each of these jars…” Phil took out a jar from the drawer, and Dan felt an instant pang of disgust and nausea in his gut. There were bugs in the jars. Urgh. Insects. With their little legs. “... we need to make a card to put in the collection, and then insert all the data from the notes into this spreadsheet. You ok, Dan?”

Dan could feel that his body was tense and there were drops of sweat dripping down his back. “I just don’t really like bugs,” he said quietly, willing his stomach to calm down.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say! Oh no!” Phil looked so concerned that Dan would laugh if he didn’t feel so uncomfortable with all the little dead bugs in the jars. “You should have told your professor, he’s not a monster! I’m so sorry Dan!”

“It’s ok Phil, I’ll get over it. Don’t want to be a bother,” Dan said timidly, looking away.

“It’s not a bother! Dan, you can’t control things like this! How about we do this, you type in the field notes into the spreadsheet, and I’ll label the jars. Yes, and you can sit on this end of the table and I’ll turn away so you don’t see the jars. Is that ok?”

Phil’s concern was so genuine that Dan didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt silly for making someone worry about him, but oddly comforted by the fact that Phil wanted him to be happy and that he cared. He missed that feeling. Someone listening.

“That’s fine Phil, thank you. Sorry I’m such a wimp.”

“You’re not a wimp, Dan.” Phil looked sternly at him. “I’m scared of horses. Does that make me a wimp?”

“Horses? Why are you scared of horses?” Dan replied smiling.

“They look like they have something on their mind. And I always feel like they’re judging me.”

Dan burst out laughing. Phil’s lips stretched into a smile as well. “Seriously, their eyes are just full of mystery.”

“You’re not a wimp, Phil, you’re a weirdo,” Dan laughed. For a moment he felt like he crossed a line, calling someone you just met, someone who is in charge right now, a weirdo was probably not polite. But Phil just chuckled and looked flattered.

“Normal is boring anyway,” Phil replied.

They spent a minute looking at each other, smiling, and Dan could feel a blush creeping onto his neck and cheeks.

“Ok, let’s get to work!” Phil said, and began showing Dan how to fill out the database.

***

Turns out, working for extra credit in the museum collections was not nearly as boring or tedious as Dan thought. Or maybe it was that being with Phil wasn’t boring. They sat at the table going though notes and papers, sometimes chatting, sometimes just sitting in silence. Talking with Phil was nothing like talking to anyone else. He was effortlessly funny, genuine and most of all, incredibly kind. Dan had friends. Or at least he thought of them as friends. But he knew Phil for two hours and he already trusted to tell him things he would never tell his friends.

“My dad really wanted me to become a lawyer. But you need top grades for that and I failed the exam twice. The second time I just didn’t show up. I’m such a loser.”

“You’re not a loser, Dan. It sounds like you really hated those classes. If it’s not for you, it’s not for you. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure.”

“But I don’t know what I like. Everyone keeps saying that university is supposed to be this amazing time, but I feel I’m doing it wrong. Everyone else is off having fun, making friends, and I’m just… alone and miserable.” Dan looked up from his screen to look at Phil’s expression. It was as kind as always.

“University can be tough. Everyone is different, you know? And sometimes it takes some time to find your people. Don’t worry about that. I’m sure you’ll find them.”

“I just can’t fail at this too. I’ve already failed at everything else. At least according to my dad.”

Dan felt silent and Phil just listened, showing no judgement or question. He looked at Dan and Dan just wanted to drown in his eyes. They looked safe. Dan had never felt more safe in his life.

Their conversation slowly shifted to music, and Dan discovered that Phil’s music tastes were incredibly similar to his. “No way your favorite band is Muse, so is mine!” Dan was exclaiming, “I went to see them like 3 times!”

“So did I! I remember the concert in 2010 they gave in London, blew my mind!” Phil said.

“No way! At Wimbledon? I was there!” Dan replied. “You’re joking!”

“No, I was there! Wait, I’ll show you a pic!” Phil started scrolling through his phone and finally pulled up a photo of him and another guy with his arms around his shoulder.

“Phil… is that an emo fringe?!” Dan shreaked. “Oh my god, were you an emo? Wait, and your hair was black too? Oh, Phil…”

“Hey, emos are valid” Phil said smiling. “And my fringe looked great, not everyone has effortlessly beautiful curls on their big heads!”

Dan chose to store the memory of Phil saying that his curls were beautiful somewhere deep in his mind so he could later reflect on that in detail. Instead he took out his phone and searched through his photos.

“Phil, I was an emo wannabe as well, haha, and I would have killed for your fringe back in 2010. I spent most of my life straightening my hair every day!” He pulled up a photo of his younger self and inwardly cringed at himself. But if Phil would find it amusing to look at, Dan could take it.

“Oh Danny! You look so precious! Oh my, you’re such a baby!” Phil was looking at the kid in the photo with so much softness. “I wish I would have met you at that concert, we would have definitely hit it off with our emo hair and love for muse!”

“Yeah..” Dan said, trailing off.

They continued working, until Phil’s stomach gave a loud rumble.

“Sorry!” Phil said, blushing. He looked at his phone to check the time. “Oh, it’s lunch time! Want to go eat something? The cafe is closed today, but I have some sandwiches and there’s a vending machine on the second floor.”

Dan, who was getting quite hungry himself, eagerly stood up and followed Phil out of the collection room. They ended up walking through the mammals exhibit to get to the vending machine, and Dan felt a sense of foreboding, walking through a completely empty museum, his steps loudly echoing off of the walls.

They ate their chips and drank some soda while sitting on the steps of the Ancient Egypt room, with Phil telling Dan funny stories about odd encounters he had had. When Phil was describing his visit from the Holy Mother, Dan was almost crying from laughter. “You just attract weirdos, don't you!”

After they had some lunch, Phil took Dan through some of the empty exhibits to show him the coolest stuff. And because Dan didn’t like insects, Phil instead showed him the dinosaurs, which apparently he also knew everything about.

Eventually, they ended up back at their desk, going back to work. Talking to Phil was as easy as breathing, and Dan felt like he knew this guy for years. That’s why he just couldn’t help but wonder.

Dan spent a solid 10 minutes debating if it would be appropriate to ask Phil what he was thinking.

Deciding to go for it, he tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible “You have a pride flag on your desk?”

Phil silently pulled another jar out of the drawer. Dan suddenly felt terrified that he crossed the line, went too personal. But Phil calmly started filling out the next card and replied: “Yeah, I’m gay.”

Dan was stunned. Not by the fact that Phil was gay. He knew gay people, he wasn’t shocked by that. Just by how easily Phil said that. Just like that. I’m gay . As though it’s not a big deal. As though it’s not the biggest deal of all the deals. As though he wasn’t scared of saying it.

Dan’s hands were shaking and he was struggling to breathe properly. He was just looking at Phil, being Phil. With his rainbow flags, and his nerdy sweater and silly stickers.

Phil looked at Dan for a minute, as though about to ask something, but ended up staying silent and just going back to his work.

They were silent for some time, working in quiet. Dan thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. Even though Dan was shaking inside, he felt warm. He felt as though Phil just shared this piece of information with Dan but didn’t want anything in return. He was just giving Dan the opportunity to change the topic, or to talk about anything else if he wanted.

Dan’s curiosity won over his fear. “And like, does everyone know?”

Phil smiled in return. “I mean, it’s hard to miss, right? I’m out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh”.

After a long pause, Dan suddenly blurted out: “I think I’m gay too.” His entire body went into panic mode. He was trembling all over and felt he couldn’t look at Phil anymore, so he closed his eyes.

He felt a warm smooth hand on his arm.

“Thanks for telling me, Dan,” Phil said. He gave Dan’s arm a gentle squeeze and let go. Dan immediately felt colder without the touch.

And that was it. After about a minute of silence Dan opened his eyes. The world was still here. No one other than him seemed to have felt that giant shift in the universe. Phil was quietly working on his index cards, humming some kind of melody, as though he didn’t just witness Dan’s complete meltdown.

A wave of relief washed through Dan. The panic in his chest was replaced with elation. He just said that out loud. He just came out. To one person maybe, but he did.

“Why do you even like insects?” Dan decided to break the silence.

Phil laughed. “Everyone asks me that. But insects are just so amazing Dan!” Phil’s eyes were sparkling. “You know that there are more species of insects than there are of all other land animals combined? They are truly the most diverse group of organisms in the world. And they can live almost anywhere! Truly, it’s amazing. Anywhere you look there are insects, and they’re all so different and fascinating and we just don’t know so much about them, how would anyone not want to learn more about them? Like, for example, the group that I study are called long-horned beetles, and there’s like 26 thousand different species, but we still don’t know really how they evolved or how they are related. Can you believe that? And we’re still discovering new species all the time…”

Dan felt his focus shift from what Phil was talking about to how he was talking about it. His whole face was lit up, his eyes full of passion, he was gesturing and Dan was entranced. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Where was this person his entire life? He didn’t even know people like this existed. Was this the feeling of finding “your people” that Phil talked about?

“... Dan are you even listening?” Dan felt himself shaken out of his trance. “Sorry! I tend to ramble about things, I’ll stop talking about beetle phylogenies now!”

Phil was smiling his apologetic and kind smile and Dan wanted to hug him.

“No! Phil it’s fine, you’re not rambling. I just don’t understand most of it. And I hate bugs. But I really like listening to you!”

Phil looked a little red in the face and elbowed Dan in the side playfully. “Well if you hate bugs we can’t be friends, I talk about insects a lot.”

“Oh no, I guess I have to become an entomologist now,” Dan joked. Because he would. He would do anything to be Phil’s friend.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Mr. I’mTerrifiedofMoths,” Phil replied. “We can always talk about Muse instead.”

They both smiled. It was getting and the table they were working at was being lit by the setting sun.

“I guess it’s time to go home” Phil said finally. The cold feeling was settling back into Dan’s chest. They gathered their kit and put away the specimens, making their way back to Phil’s office. After collecting their stuff, Phil led Dan out back to the side entrance and past the security guard. They walked down the steps of the museum in silence.

Say something. Just say something, Dan. Dan’s heart was thumping loudly. He gathered all the courage he had.

“Phil, do you want to go get a coffee?”

Phil turned around and his face was lit up by his warm bright smile. “Sure! There’s a Starbucks right around the corner, I am craving a Caramel Macchiato right now!”

“Pfff Phil, I didn’t know you were into multi million corporations that profit off of you being a basic bitch,” Dan replied.

“Well then I’ll go drink my delicious warm treat and you can stand outside and watch me,” Phil said and stuck his tongue out at Dan.

“I’ll watch your mum,” Dan snorted, bumping their shoulders together teasingly. Just the thought of having to be away from Phil was making him sad. As they kept walking Dan was wondering how he possibly could continue being in Phil’s presence. The mean part of Dan’s brain was telling him that no way this older, funny, beautiful, adorable guy would hang out with a loser like Dan. But the hopeful, eager part of him wanted to believe that Phil felt the connection between them as much as Dan. Or at least that he would, if they had some more time together.

“Can I come help you with your work sometime?” Dan asked hesitantly.

“Nah, that’s fine. I know insects aren’t your thing,” Dan felt his spirits sink. “Why don’t you instead come play Mario Kart with me at my place? We can hang out and there will be no bugs in sight, not counting my pet cockroaches, but you’ll learn to love them, they’re very cute.”

Dan felt happiness swell in him again. “Be careful what you wish for, Lester, I’m the Mario Kart king! Be prepared to have your ass handed to you!”

“Feeling cocky, Howell?” Phil replied with a raised eyebrow. Then he took out his phone and handed it to Dan. “Punch your number in. I’ll send you my number and my address. Come over any time after class, I’m usually home by 5.”

Dan quickly typed in the digits of his phone number. “Aren’t you scared I’ll come over and never leave? You barely know me,” he said jokingly, giving the phone back.

“Why would I be scared of that?” Answered Phil. “It would give us more time to hang out. So it sounds like a win to me.” He smiled a bit shyly, and looked down at his phone.

Dan’s phone pinged.

this is phil the insect guy ^.^ let’s be friends <3

Dan heart felt too big for his chest.

ok bug boy :P but keep your cockroaches away from me

Dan quickly texted back and put his phone away.

“I’ll make you come around to insects, Dan, don’t you worry. I’ll wear you down. You’ll learn to love them.” Phil was smiling at him.

“Never!” Dan declared dramatically. “I will never get what you like about them!”

“You know, you have much more in common with them then you think,” Phil said.

Dan gasped with mock offense. “Are you saying I’m a cockroach?!”

Phil chuckled. “Nah, you wish.” He continued with a quieter voice. “But you also have a hard exoskeleton on the outside, but are soft and endlessly fascinating on the inside. And I could also study you forever.” Their eyes met for a moment and they both blushed and looked down.

They continued to walk side to side, their arms softly brushing against each other. Walking through the city Dan felt as though he was seeing it for the first time. It was quite beautiful. The street lights were on and and lights twinkled in the trees in the trees. The air smelled of spring and happiness.

#phan #phanfiction #fic rec #i'm smart #i accidentally deleted the previous post #oops #so i'm reposting it #in any case #this is sort of a self reblog

[bigtstreaming]

not to be mean digdgkskgdkhdhkkg but im going to college for interior design which is like the artsy cousin of architecture and that's just not gonna cut it 😂. i too am bad at drawing and let me tell u rulers are the best thing ever invented -homophobicpunz

LMAOOO no ur not being mean dw i know that it is horrid. like truly comically bad, which is why i posted lol.

i did it in like 15 mins, in the dark, with no rules, and on paper that was like indented graph paper. and acrylic paint mixed w/ water. i know the artists out htere r cringing rn 😬 idk it was weird. i was just fucking around a little. tbh me deciding to paint it kinda ruined it bc i was like... at least viewable when it was just a sketch.

but i need to build my portfolio bc i wanna go to risd n u need a portfolio to apply 💔 i dont think my sevneth grade painting, painting cas project, and possible mural over the summer r gonna be enough. i plan on looking at videos n whatnot and ACTUALLYY trying over the summer lol do not fret.

also i stg ur like me but from a different perspective. the also doing ib... interior design... having the username i wanted... 

#homophobicpunz #like i wanna do architecture so bad #and go to risd bc i feel like id get a less traditional approach which is what i want #bc i get needing to know the technicals etc. #but i wanna be creative in what i do #not just make the same square and square glass six story office building type shit #but a downside is needing to work on those skills asap so that i can get accepted next year hehe #and if i get a good scholarship bc uh.. out of state tuition is not sexy </3

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 12

Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before Benrey reappeared, but when the team rounded a corner in the testing sector and encountered two of him, staring back eerily as perfect mirrors, it was sooner than he’d anticipated. 

Gordon ground to a halt in the stark white hallway, uttering a fearful “nononononono” like it was a mantra at the disquieting spectacle. Tommy moved to take a protective step in front of him when Bubby shouldered aggressively past them.

“Look out, Gordon!” he shouted. “It’s Benrey!”

He unloaded an entire clip into the entity without hesitation. Blood sprayed the walls, the ceiling, the men present.

Bubby whooped. “I got him!”

Dr. Coomer clapped a heavy hand on Bubby’s shoulder. “Fine shooting!”

Tommy wiped crimson from his face and watched in surprise as Benrey’s double, full of lead, dropped to the floor. Okay, maybe Bubby could win back some points after all. He sent the scientist an appreciative look while Gordon swayed deliriously in the wake of the gunfire, murmuring repetitions to soothe himself.

“We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him,” he droned. He raised his exhausted gaze to the entity’s face. “Why won’t you die? Please?”

The other Benrey, fully manifested, was pocked with holes but seemed unbothered. He passed a lazy look between the members of the Science Team, landing with a smug raise of his eyebrows on Tommy. Miss me?

Tommy glared back. He didn’t.

“Gordon,” Coomer said, pointing at the double, “he’s right here on the floor, dead as a doornail.”

Benrey took a casual step forward, making Gordon bristle visibly. “Hey, um, you got one of these?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket and drawing out a very familiar document.

The passport thing again? Tommy tensed, narrowing his eyes and clocking every move the entity made as he unfolded the license to reveal his identification. The words BENRYBENRYBENRYBENRY marched across the line for his name. Tommy fought the urge to roll his eyes. Asinine. Utterly pointless.

He would ignore the being entirely if Gordon wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown next to him, drawing in thin, shallow breaths as he was confronted with the document. Tommy blinked. This was… really getting to him, huh? He glanced at Bubby and Coomer, who were poised to act, waiting on a cue. Benrey was gloating as he drank in the attention.

Okay. Fine. Tommy knew how to defuse this.

“Here you go, sir,” he intoned sarcastically, producing his own passport from the pocket of his slacks and flipping it open.

The other scientists followed his lead, showing the entity their identification. Gordon, flummoxed, stared numbly between the passports, squinting to read them through his fractured glasses.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “Were you given those?”

To Tommy’s amusement, Bubby and Dr. Coomer were hamming it up. “Just as requested,” Bubby declared loudly, while Coomer brightly added, “I believe all the paperwork is in order!”

“Please show it now,” Benrey urged.

Gordon was still studying the passports somewhat hazily. “Bubby…” he murmured aloud. “Dr. Coomer, Ph.D…” his gaze swung to Tommy’s ID, eyes tracking across the letters, brow furrowed in incomprehension. Then his expression cleared suddenly and that laugh Tommy had been waiting for came tumbling out of him. “Tommy Coolatta?” he shrilled, ignoring Benrey entirely to give Tommy a look of confused delight. “That’s your last name?”

Tommy grinned back in full force. “Yeah, I’m an orphan,” he explained. “They let me pick my first - my own - my - my last name.” In truth, he’d gotten to pick all of them, but that was beside the point. “But it was - I wa - I was in a Dunkin’ Donuts and I just looked around.”

Gordon nearly doubled over with breathless laughter, and Tommy, still smiling, caught him with a steadying hand under his arm before he collapsed to the floor completely.

“Oh, how inspiring!” Bubby remarked, humor touching his words.

Dr. Coomer got in on it, too. “It’s important to find small beauty every day.”

Tommy flipped his passport shut with his free hand and slid it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help giving Benrey a challenging smirk as he did. He could try and knock Gordon out of orbit all he wanted; Tommy would pull him back with laughter every time.

Gordon eventually recovered enough from the sucker punch of Tommy’s last name to stand upright. He fixed Benrey with a defeated stare, still uncomfortable with his presence but no longer electric with panic. Tommy unslung his rifle as Gordon addressed the entity again.

“Benrey, I don’t have a passport,” he began. “I don’t-”

“Oh, hey, yo, what hap - oh, man, look,” Benrey cut him off, his tone maddeningly neutral as he flicked a look at Gordon’s injury. “You fucked up.”

Gordon’s mouth hung open in stunned outrage. “Shut - shut - shut up!” he barked.

Benrey only stooped to insult. “What did - what didja do, write your name too many times on the blackboard, idiot?”

Gordon let out a strangled noise, half rage and half disbelief, as he took a staggering step back. “You’re gonna g - you’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna kill me, talk-” his tone dipped and he lost his footing. “I can’t stand up straight.”

Tommy quickly switched his rifle to one arm so he could support Gordon with the other. The symptoms of blood loss were hitting him in waves, and he lurched against Tommy as his bearings left him all at once.

“We gotta get to the cybernetics lab fast,” he groaned, his head lolling on Tommy’s shoulder.

Benrey had a nauseated look on his face as he shifted his gaze between the two of them. “Calm down, man,” he muttered. “Jeez.”

Gordon shook his head weakly, raising the grievous wound in accusation. “‘Calm down,’ he says. ‘Calm down,’ he says.” his tone was laced with loathing.

Tommy had to admit he was impressed at how spiteful the man could sound even when he was barely conscious. Benrey schooled his features and ignored him, while Dr. Coomer tucked away his passport and gave Gordon a worried look.

“Gordon, you seem to be losing a lot of blood,” he said. “This can cause things such as,” he began counting off on his fingers seriously, “delirium, exhaustion, death.”

Tommy felt Gordon chuckle weakly against him. “Death,” he repeated, not entirely present.

Coomer exchanged a look with Tommy and grimaced. “Perhaps we should get a move on.”

Perhaps. They were gradually able to coax Gordon into standing on his own two feet. After a few moments to regain his bearings, he was able to push on. Tommy was once again struck by the sheer resiliency of the man - so weak and so breakably human - still moving forward as he walked at the edge of death. He was going to make it out of here, in spite of everything. He deserved that much, at least.

---

Benrey fell in line with the rest of the team, his hunger for mischief satiated for now. Tommy caught Gordon eyeing the entity jealously as his bullet wounds miraculously healed over and felt a pang on his behalf. All he could do to help was keep him from getting shot and keep him moving. And pray that there was someone still at the cybernetics department who could fix the mess of bone and tissue that was Gordon’s right arm.

They traced the hallways, laid out like graph paper, through the testing facility. Gordon’s condition was worsening as he stumbled after them, sing-songing his words in a delirious lilt. At least in this state he was already too far gone for Benrey’s presence to be much detriment - every time he tried to aggravate him, Gordon just responded by politely asking him to die.

Turns out this sector wasn’t as abandoned as they initially thought. Bubby located a scientist who had somehow evaded both evisceration from aliens and annihilation from infantrymen, which was a miracle in itself, and then the team solicited his help without shooting him on the spot, which surprised Tommy even further. Gordon wearily complimented his companions on their personal growth while they followed the man to the facility door.

“Gordon, I’m learning,” Dr. Coomer declared proudly, which made Tommy giggle silently through his nose.

As their newest ally punched in the code to release the bolt on the exit door, he cautioned the team about the dangers they faced on the other side: most of it military in origin, but the manifested creatures had undoubtedly found their way to the surface, as well. Tommy gripped his weapon in resolve as hot desert wind blew his hair back. He’d already been through three days of hell. He wouldn’t flinch away from more of it if salvation lay on the other side.

The scientist was midsentence when he froze. Dead stop. Tommy paused, puzzled, until he lifted his gaze and saw the rest of the team standing motionless in their own right. All except Gordon, who had raised his eyebrows in alarm as he noticed the change.

His mouth was halfway open to ask Gordon if he was okay, but the words died in his throat as a cool, rippling wave engulfed Tommy. It bound his muscles tight. Halted the breath in his lungs. It was a sudden, powerful energy, and it felt…

Familiar.

He sensed his father’s presence more than he saw it. Tommy was fixated on Gordon - he alone had been left untouched, and dismay flickered across his face as Tommy froze before his eyes. Don’t panic, it’s okay, he wanted to tell him, but wasn’t even sure if he’d believe it, himself. He had no idea what his father had come to do, gripping the team’s mobility as he did.

“Gordon Freeman.” His voice was smooth as glass, as always.

Gordon tore his gaze away from Tommy and studied the clean-pressed suit of a man in front of him. His expression was wary, but he was too weakened to consider fleeing in any capacity. Tommy, meanwhile, felt like he’d been punched in the stomach - the tethers in his sinews made him think of blackened hallways and broken cries for help and blood thick on his hands and-

His father’s dress shoes snapped across the tile as he approached. He slid Tomy a glance of acknowledgement, but his attention was primarily on Gordon. “It is good to see you and your companions in such good spirits,” he said. “I’d offer to shake your hand but it seems you’re a little… lacking in that department now, hm?”

As an afterthought, he raised a casual index finger in a near imperceptible gesture. The blood leaking out of Gordon’s wound abruptly stopped.

A current of complicated emotion ran through Tommy at the observation. Why couldn’t he do that? Why had his dad waited until Gordon was on the edge of death to pull on the collar of his mortality? Most disquieting, why had he allowed the incident to happen at all? He agonized, motionless, while Gordon gave his arm an unsettled look and said nothing.

His father went on. “I realize the indiscretion of having a conversation at a time like this, but I felt it was important to... talk to you properly before you go any further.”

Only the man in the suit would consider playing space and time like a harp a “proper” conversation, and Tommy could only sit in his frustration while his dad awaited an answer.

Gordon eventually found his voice. “Oka - okay?” he ventured, darting his eyes to his petrified companions. “What have you d - what is happening?”

Tommy’s father cleared his throat delicately. “The Resonance Cascade and its repercussions are merely the prelude to a scheme of events much… grander than you could comprehend,” he explained, maddeningly vague. “You’ve already faced impossible odds, and your prospects going forward will only grow slimmer and slimmer.”

Good one, dad. Real encouraging. Gordon’s shoulders sagged and he uttered a resigned, “Yeah,” that made Tommy’s heart ache.

“Perhaps things would have gone a bit better if you’d remembered to bring your… pass-port, hm?” He flicked an interested look at the entity, standing stock-still at the doorway.

Gordon sucked in a breath. He didn’t respond.

The lecture marched on. “There are some who would say that surrender is your only choice at this point, but I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed, Mr. Freeman. Which is why I will continue to offer my support, as will my,” he paused, giving Tommy another glance, “associates.” His galaxy eyes returned to Gordon. “But the onus of survival ultimately rests upon you.”

That didn’t make the weight of Gordon’s life sit any lighter on Tommy’s shoulders. Yes, the man was bold as a brass band with the tirelessness to match, but he was still human. His reserve of sheer willpower would run dry eventually.

“We’ll talk again soon enough but, until then, I wish you the best of luck in these… dire circumstances.” His father turned to leave, pausing at the last second to cast a somewhat bemused glance between Tommy and Gordon. “Oh, and make sure no harm comes to my... progeny, will you?” he added.

Really? Tommy would give his father an offended look if his face could move. Gordon slid his gaze to Tommy and then back to the man in the suit, a bit too delirious, perhaps, to fully follow. Well, at least the blood loss was good for something.

His father smiled like a wolf, showing his eyeteeth. “You have a long way to go, Mr. Freeman,” he warned him. “As for me, this is where I get off.”

He warped out of the room, breaking the spell that had settled over them. Tommy sucked in a breath and leaned back against the wall, chest rising and falling in the wake of what he’d just learned, while the remainder of the group woke from their stupor, unaffected. Gordon was staring numbly at the place where Tommy’s father had been only moments ago, a disoriented frown tugging at his face.

Bubby fidgeted at the open door. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked.

“I know it’s dangerous ahead, Gordon,” Coomer reasoned, a step behind Bubby, “but we do need to get a move on.”

As Gordon turned to answer them, his dark eyes snagged on Tommy. There was a question on his face, a series of half-expressions following in rapid succession as he parsed through whatever was going on in his head. The man looked so utterly lost that Tommy wanted to reach out and cup his face with both hands, like Gordon had done to him on the day this had all started, and tell him, eyes locked: We’re gonna make it. It’ll be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here.

Coward as he was, he didn’t. He could only stare helplessly back.

Gordon pulled enough resolve into himself in that moment to break eye contact and face the desert. “Okay,” he sighed to the team. “Yeah.”

As they stepped into the searing light of day, hypoxia overtook the scientist who’d opened the door for them and he collapsed onto the floor. Tommy winced. Thanks, dad.

Chapter 11 <-----> Chapter 13

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #blood #violence #hlvrai

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 14: It’s All Fun and Games

The Polar Tang’s library was easily Nami’s favorite place on the submarine. For one, it was the coolest room on the whole ship as Law had put a considerable amount of resources into developing state-of-the-art climate control equipment to keep the books in good condition. Secondly, the walls were lined with shelves practically bursting with tomes on navigation, oceanography, geography, zoology, weather, history, and, of course, every type of medicine imaginable. Thirdly, it was comfortable; there were plush chairs and couches, a peaceful atmosphere, perfect lighting for reading, and a large table where she and Bepo could work on maps and other projects.

In fact, that’s exactly where the pair of navigators had been holed up over the past few days. Stacks of books on horticulture and gardening surrounded them as they furiously scribbled on sheets of graph paper, meticulously planning out the new greenhouse. With the money they’d accrued from the gala heist, Clione had managed to purchase the equipment needed for solar lights and the sprinkler system. Now it was up to Nami and Bepo to decide which plants should go where so the engineers could start the installation process. It was trickier than it sounded; due to the combination of medicinal herbs and produce, many with different watering and sunlight requirements, the room needed to be carefully mapped out for peak efficiency.

“What do you think of this layout, Nami?” Bepo asked, handing her a rough sketch. “Rough” being the key word—though there was a marked improvement over the past few months, even under Nami’s careful tutelage, his drawing skills still left much to be desired.

Despite the giant sweatdrop falling down the back of her head, Nami forced a happy grin. “It’s a good start! What corner are we putting the aloe plants in?”

“Well, they need a lot of sunlight, so I thought the west corner?”

She studied her notes carefully, a deep wrinkle forming across her brow. “Hmm, but that’s the area that also gets watered the most. According to the books, aloe needs to be watered deeply, but infrequently; otherwise it’ll rot.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, round ears drooping as he hung his head, a gloomy cloud forming around him.

“It’s ok! We can make a dry corner—a section that has a lot of sunlight, but no sprinkler system. We’ll manually water those on a strict schedule.”

He perked up at the suggestion. “Maybe we can have a chart or something next to those with specific instructions to avoid confusion? And some plastic curtains to block out the spray from the sprinklers so it stays dry?”

“Great idea!” she replied, smile much more genuine this time. With how sensitive Bepo was, she’d forced herself to adopt a more calm, motherly demeanor when working with him. He was a lot like Chopper; sweet and a little naïve but extremely intelligent in his specialized field. She wondered if perhaps, like the blue-nosed reindeer, he’d been bullied when he was young. Had people thought he was a monster, too?

“Thanks, Nami,” Bepo said, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, the island we’re heading to has the aloe variety that Law uses—I know we’re not ready for a full greenhouse, but maybe we could pick up some fresh plants and set up one of the sunlamps in here as a tester since it’s the driest room.”

At the mention of the captain, Nami had to bite back a frustrated sigh. Law had been pretty much intolerable for the past week. She’d thought she’d seen the worst of his insomniac tendencies when he’d been working on the fertilizer, but this was so much worse. He stayed in his room practically all day, and on the rare occasion he emerged he’d been broody and snappish. Most of the crew had chalked it up to stress and lack of sleep again, but Nami could tell they were trying to hide their concern. This wasn’t a hyper fixation like the fertilizer had been—this was an obsession over something personal.

However, she dared not press the matter—Law wasn’t like Luffy or Zoro, whom she could knock over the head and nag into submission. And if his mood did have anything to do with the Amber Lead vase, she was even warier. She still distinctly remembered his rage after the gala—he’d implied that the World Government had covered up the truth that the infamous disease wasn’t contagious. Maybe he wanted the vase to prove it? To spit in the eye of those who had callously doomed an entire city?

Seeing the frown on her face, Bepo sulked. “I’m worried about him too.”

“I’m not worried about him,” she huffed, crossing her arms stubbornly.

The Mink ignored her denial. “I wish he’d get more sleep. I know he’s working on a plan, but he still needs his rest.”

“Why don’t you just drug him or something?” she asked a bit petulantly. Really, she was mostly upset that Law was needlessly troubling his crew. Didn’t he realize how much they cared about him? “There’s plenty of sedatives aboard the ship.”

“Oh no!” Bepo cried, black eyes widening in horror. “Law’d be furious if we did that! There’s too much risk involved. What if we were attacked? He’d be too out of it to fight or take care of the wounded.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she acquiesced, slumping forward and resting her chin on her crossed forearms. Chopper would probably have the same objections. Except a sleep-deprived, angry doctor wasn’t much better than a doped-up one. “Still, he needs a nap or something. He’s been acting like a toddler.”

“Careful who you call a toddler, Nami-ya,” Law’s deep voice rasped in her ear, startling a shriek from her throat as she jerked upright, nearly smacking his chin with the back of her head. “And keep your voice down—you’re in a library.”

“Oh, go to hell, Law!” she snapped, twisting around in her chair to glare up at him. “What are you skulking around for, anyway?” Not that she should really complain—he was actually out of his room, after all.

Striding past her, he perused the history section before selecting a large, faded tome. “It’s my ship—I’ll go where I please.”

“Well, how about you please go to bed?” she argued. Screw not pressing the issue—maybe she couldn’t knock him over the head like her own crew, but she could sure as hell nag, and clearly someone had to. And he wouldn’t attack her with Bepo around, right? “You don’t want to screw up someone’s medication like you did last time you were overtired, right?”

The glare he threw over his shoulder was so full of malice Nami shrank down in her chair. Though a valid point, she knew her comment had hit below the belt.

“Watch your tongue, Nami-ya, or else I’ll remove it,” he sneered. Even with the shadow his hat cast over the top half of his face, Nami could clearly see his eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath were even darker than usual. “Getting that vase is going to take even more planning than the gala, and I’ve got less information to go on and maybe a third of the time. Even if I could calm my mind enough to sleep, I simply don’t have the time to spare.”

“Look, I know you’re the devious schemer around here, but you’re also the doctor. You of all people should know the importance of getting proper rest. If you’re that worried about your plan, I can help you; burglary is literally the reason you brought me on,” she argued, arms spread wide.

A deep frown marred his face as he shook his head. “No. After what you went through on Grimm, I want you to take it easy until we get to Atifakuto—that’s when I’ll need your help. You’re lucky I’m even letting you work on the greenhouse plans.” He glanced down at the piles of papers strewn across the table. “By the way, I want to look those over later.”

She smacked her forehead in exasperation. “Seriously? Your own plans aren’t enough to keep you occupied? You have way too much on your plate as it is. For God’s sake, just take a break and get some fucking sleep!”

Long fingers gripped the book in his hands so tightly Nami could hear the leather binding groan. “Don’t you dare give me orders on my own fucking ship, Nami-ya.”

“Captain,” Bepo interrupted quietly, voice nearly a whimper, “do you promise to at least try to get some sleep when we get to the island tomorrow? Even just a short nap? It’ll be sunny and warm and safe—maybe your mind will settle down there.”

There was a moment of tense silence as a pair of round black eyes shimmered pleadingly, desperately hoping to put an end to the argument.

“Shit. Quit being so cute,” Law muttered under his breath. Narrow shoulders heaved in a sigh. Not even the Surgeon of Death could be mad at the sweet Mink when he sounded so genuinely concerned. “I promise to try. At the very least, I’ll spend some time outside; I’m sure all this time underwater hasn’t exactly helped my vitamin D deficiency. So long as no one gets any ideas about giving me another lovely sunburn,” he quipped, scowling at the mikan-hair woman meaningfully.

Nami held up her hands in surrender. Even though he totally deserved another prank due to his prickly behavior, it was way more important that he had enough peace of mind to get in even a small amount of sleep.

Damn, she thought to herself as Law stalked out of the library. Bepo’s right; I really am worried about that idiot.

XXX

Cousteau Island was small but beautiful. By Nami’s estimation, it had been an undersea volcano that had risen up less than a hundred years ago. Shaped like a fat crescent moon, the majority of the land was covered in lush jungle and lined with smooth, sandy beaches. The surrounding ocean was nearly teal, full of tropical fish and rainbow-colored coral. Fruits like bananas, coconuts, and pineapples grew in abundance, but there didn’t appear to be much wildlife—mostly birds and sea turtles who had decided the uninhabited island was the perfect spot to lay their eggs due to a lack of predators.

“How did you guys find this place?” Nami asked Bepo, not bothering to keep the awe from her voice as they surfaced in the cove. “I’ve never heard of Cousteau Island, and it wasn’t the atlas.”

More than happy to tell the tale of their lucky discovery, her fellow navigator explained, “It’s a summer island we found when a storm blew us off course. It’s so tiny its magnetic field is hidden by Grimm’s, so it doesn’t show up on a log pose—we had to make an eternal pose to get back. It’s also surrounded by a massive reef that’ll destroy most other ships if they get close, but we found the underwater tunnel to get through. It’s completely uninhabited, so we claimed it and use it as a hideout.”

Glancing around, Nami could see the skeletal remains of what looked like a pirate ship wedged onto the rocks, along with debris scattered along the beach. They appeared to be several months old, however, so she doubted they’d be running into any castaways. “How’d it get its name?”

“Cousteau found the safe path to the island, so we let him name it,” Law interjected bluntly, though not without a hint on begrudging affection for the diver/oceanographer. “Otherwise, it would have been ‘Trafalgar Cove’.”

Nami nodded in understanding, too pleased at the possibility of mapping out a brand-new island and taking a vacation to mock him for the blatant arrogance. It seemed Law hadn’t been making empty promises when he told her the island would be much more relaxing. Now all he had to do was keep his promise about getting some sleep.

Upon landing, the crew spent the better part of the morning setting up chairs, umbrellas, a volleyball net, blankets, tables, and everything else they could think of for a fantastic day on the beach. Surprisingly, getting the bonfire and grill started was the easiest part; debris from the shipwrecked pirate ship, which seemed to mostly consist of the shattered remains of wooden crates and barrels, littered the shore, so there was no need to cut down trees. By noon, the last of the preparations were finished, and after a quick lunch, the crew split off into their own groups.

Cousteau and Crozier led Clione, Darter, Sgt. Pepper, Ajisahi, Tsunomedori, and Shiroruka to explore the jungle, promising to be back by sunset with fresh fruit, water, and the aloe Law wanted. Skua and Malamute, two of Ikkaku’s fellow engineers, elected to stay on the ship to perform some maintenance. The rest, led by Penguin and Shachi, chose to change into bathing suits so they could all enjoy some much-needed relaxation on the beach.

“Incoming!” Nami shouted, spiking the blue and yellow beach ball hard over the net, scoring the winning point for her team.

“Nice shot!” Ikkaku cheered, high-fiving her partner.

“And that’s the match!” Ermine sniggered from their spot by the grill as they cleaned the assortment fish Jude, Uni, and Seiuchi had caught for dinner, careful to keep their long brown braids free of fish guts. The cook had been thoroughly amused throughout the game—they’d never pass up the chance to watch the first and second mate get trounced by a pair of pretty ladies in swimwear. “Did you guys even score a single point?”

“Ah, shuddup,” Shachi groused as he fell back onto a nearby towel, though his displeasure at losing didn’t stop him from ogling Nami and Ikkaku’s sun-kissed bodies. Nami had elected to don a cherry red, lace-up one-piece that tantalizingly showed off her legs and cleavage. Ikkaku’s was comparatively more modest, being a sporty, black, high-neck two-piece, though the mesh across her breasts didn’t hide much.

The swimwear had been a tactical choice—the moment Penguin and Shachi had proposed a game of volleyball, the girls knew there was no better way to distract them. And with such a devious plan, they of course added on a friendly wager—losers do the winners’ cleaning duties for the next month.

“Man, they destroyed you,” Jude mocked from his chair, black bowl cut shining in the late afternoon sun.

“Like you would have done any better,” Penguin argued as he took a swig from his water bottle.

“Doesn’t matter—I’m not the one with double cleaning duty.”

“You’re all getting extra chores if you don’t quit your damn whining and let me work in peace,” a dark, irritable voice called.

Law was seated a dozen feet away from the makeshift volleyball court on a wide beach blanket, Bepo snoozing softly behind him. As promised, he’d managed to doze for a short while in the sun, but it hadn’t done much for his mood. In fact, it seemed that with that small bit of rest, he’d become even more determined to work on his plan instead of relax like his body clearly needed. So, despite the protests of his crew, he’d attempted to return to his work inside the ship.

However, the maintenance had proven noisy enough to force him back outside, stacks of books and papers in hand, and he’d sullenly plopped onto the blanket beside his navigator, resolute to get some work done despite the universe’s clear attempts to stop him.

In Nami’s opinion, he looked absurd in his black and yellow swim trunks surrounded by notebooks full of messy scribblings and huge history books. He was like a nerdy brat who’d been forced on a family vacation but opted to petulantly do homework on the beach instead of have fun.

Sure, he was a hot nerdy brat, but she could also see the signs that his obsessive planning was taking its toll on his body. The definition of his muscles was starting to fade, and he looked thinner. Tan skin appeared dull even in the bright sun, and there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to cover up his eyebags now.

“Ok, this is ridiculous,” Nami grumbled with a scowl. She squeezed the volleyball between her hands, briefly imagining it was Law’s thick skull. “Even post-catnap he’s being a grumpy bastard.”

Ducking beneath the net to stand beside her, Penguin nodded in agreement. “Normally I’d say leave him alone and let him deal with it at his own pace, but this is different.”

“He told you what we’re going after?” she asked lowly, keeping her voice down to avoid disturbing the man in question or risk him eavesdropping.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m worried.” Penguin gave her a sidelong glance. “Amber Lead’s a touchy subject with him. Think this is bad? It was way worse when we sailed the North Blue.”

“What’s his deal with it?”

“It’s not my place to say. What’s important is that we get his mind off of it. All this brooding’s just going to make his insomnia worse, and it’s completely killing the party mood.”

“Any suggestions?”

“You could give him a lap dance.”

Before anyone could blink, Penguin was on the ground, a grapefruit-sized lump throbbing on his head. “Ow! I was kidding,” he moaned.

Nami cracked her knuckles. “Got any legit suggestions?” she growled, a murderous look in her eyes.

“Leave it to me,” Shachi chimed in, getting up from his towel. His gait was determined as he marched over to his captain. Standing directly in the man’s sunlight, he waited until Law glared up at him in annoyance.

“Move.”

“Nope.”

“That’s an order.”

“Nothin’ doin’.”

“If you don’t move in the next five seconds, they’ll be using your head as the volleyball.”

“Go ahead—the rest of me will still be right here, blocking your light.”

Rubbing a hand over his frustrated face, Law half-growled, half-sighed, “What the fuck do you want?”

Shachi crossed his arms over his chest. “This is supposed to be a vacation, but you’re bringing down the whole mood. So, unless you want a mutiny on your hands, you’re gonna play the King Game with us.”

Gold eyes narrowed ominously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Law, you’ve been a brooding pain in the ass for eight days. I get you’re dealing with a lot of shit, but if you expect us to just sit by and let you kill yourself with planning and sulking, well, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I refuse to leave things to chance,” Law snapped, gesturing towards the large pile of notes and books before him. “The plan hinges on me memorizing all of this. I don’t have time for stupid games.”

“Dude, too much stress from studying can cause brain inflammation and result in memory loss or depression. So unless you take a break, you’re more likely to forget this stuff and your plan will be ruined.”

“Please, Captain?” Bepo chimed in from behind him, black eyes once more shimmering with beseeching tears. He’d awoken at the mention of the King Game; it was one of his favorites, and there was no way he was going to let Law miss out.

Another sigh, this one more resigned as the stubborn captain massaged his temples. The combination of scientific facts and Bepo’s puppy-dog eyes was especially effective in his weakened state. “How long do I have to play?”

Shachi grinned triumphantly. “No less than thirty minutes. Come on; it’s a relaxing, easy game. Heck, you might not even end up having to do anything.”

“If that’s the case, it’ll be an even bigger waste of time.”

“Law, when have you ever considered watching us act like idiots a waste of time?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Do you promise to leave me in peace afterward?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said with a mock salute. “Now, is your grumpy ass going to join us, or are we coming to you?”

“Fine, fine,” he growled, carefully marking his place in his books and laying Kikoku across the papers so they wouldn’t blow away in the wind. Bepo hefted him to his feet despite his grumbled protests, ushering him towards the group that had formed. Jean Bart, Uni, Jude, Ermine, and Seiuchi had come to join them, plopping down onto the sandy beach in hopes of cheering up their moody captain.

“Ok,” Shachi began, clapping his hands together eagerly, “does everyone know how to play this?”

“We all draw popsicle sticks. Each stick has a number except for one that has a crown. Whoever draws the crown is the ‘King’ and can order one or two numbers to do anything they want,” Jean Bart answered bluntly.

“Within reason,” Ikkaku interjected, pointing her finger at Jude and Seiuchi. “Nothing R-rated.”

“Surprised you guys are so tame,” Nami giggled, glancing around the circle.

“Things got a little out of hand once,” Uni said vaguely while everyone else mumbled in uncomfortable agreement. “A lot of rum was involved.”

“Say no more.” Nami could easily imagine, with a crew of mostly men, just how insane the game could get under the influence of alcohol.

The warm dusting of pink that broke out across Penguin’s cheeks confirmed her suspicions. “Anything goes so long as it’s PG-13 and doesn’t cause grievous bodily harm.”

“Whatever,” Law grumbled from his spot beside Bepo, still determined to remain sour and unpleasant throughout his prescribed dose of forced fun.

Rolling his eyes at their captain’s less-than-enthused reaction, Shachi held out his fist clutching the popsicle sticks. “The sooner you start playing, the sooner we’ll let you get back to your brooding, Boss.”

The answering glare was ignored by the crew in favor of drawing a number, with Ikkaku cheering loudly, “Oh yeah! Guess who’s the King!”

“But girls can’t be kings!” Shachi teased, quickly ducking the fist he knew would be coming.

“Buddy, you’re lucky I’m not royalty—otherwise I’d have you drawn and quartered for that crap,” she snapped, but there was no real venom in her tone. If Nami had to guess, this was a joking argument they had every time. “But as your temporary ruler, I decree that numbers eight and five should do a handstand contest. First to fall loses.”

“I’m eight,” Uni stated, getting to his feet.

“And I’m five,” said Jean Bart.

“This’ll be over quick,” Ermine whispered to Nami. “If he hadn’t gone into piracy, Uni would have been a great circus acrobat. Or maybe a ninja.”

Nami stared at the mysterious Heart Pirate, impressed. Perhaps she could ask him for a few tips—balance was vital when you were a burglar.

To everyone’s surprise, though, despite Jean Bart’s massive size, he kept his balance remarkably well even on the soft sand, managing to stay up for nearly a full two minutes until finally yielding.

“Saint Charlos would regularly make me perform for him,” he explained, tone nonchalant but the tension in his shoulders betraying his discomfort. “I was basically his circus monkey.”

“Crap, I’m sorry, Jean,” Ikkaku replied, looking guilty. Even though it had been completely unintentional, bringing up the former slave’s past was generally regarded as an unspoken taboo.

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, though he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “It’s fine. At least this time I could stop when I wanted and didn’t get beaten after.”

Everyone in the circle winced. The Celestial Dragons really were a piece of work.

“Alright, next round,” Shachi changed the topic as he collected and shuffled the sticks, trying to keep the party mood from turning sour and to give Jean Bart the opportunity to step back out of the spotlight.

This time, Bepo had the luck of being King. “Uh, I order number three to scratch behind the King’s ears for a full minute,” he said shyly, tapping his claws together bashfully. “I mean, only if they want to.”

“Do I?” Nami called cheerfully, climbing to her feet and scurrying over to the cute bear. Immediately she buried her fingers in his thick fur, manicured nails scraping across Bepo’s sensitive skin in quick little flicks. The Mink immediately leaned into her touch, growling happily, and she swore she saw his foot twitch like a dog’s.

So cuuuute! Nami thought, working her hands even deeper into the white coat. And so soft! Almost as soft as Chopper! She allowed herself a brief daydream of cuddling up by a fire on a cold winter’s night, using Bepo as a pillow while Chopper lay against her legs in his reindeer form.

“That’s enough you two.” Law’s voice broke her out of her fantasy, and instinctively Nami glared at him. However, she didn’t miss the brief hint of a grin that tugged at his lips at the sight of his navigator so happy. “Bepo looks like he’s about to pass out.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Jealous?”

His face settled back in a scowl. “If I’m stuck playing this game, I’d rather not waste time watching my navigators fondle each other.”

Annoyed, Nami gave Bepo one more pointed scratch before returning to her spot. Darn. For a second, she’d thought Law might have started to relax a bit. Instead, he was stubbornly staying too grumpy to even flirt with her, and she’d lobbed him a softball!

The lots were pulled again, with Uni earning the King spot. “Number ten must sit in number one’s lap for the next three rounds.”

Ermine was the unlucky one, as Bepo gingerly lowered himself onto the cook’s lap.

“I’m putting you on a diet!” they groaned, voice muffled by the Mink’s thick fur as their legs sank deep into the sand under the added weight of a fully-grown polar bear.

“I’m sorry,” Bepo replied miserably, hanging his head.

“You’re not putting him on a diet,” Law snapped, glaring at his crushed subordinate. “Bepo’s a healthy weight for his size and species.”

Ermine didn’t dare argue. Not just because trying to do so with the ship’s doctor would be suicide, but because they didn’t have enough air in their lungs.

“Since Ermine’s a bit…indisposed at the moment, I think they should sit this one out,” Penguin stated as he collected the sticks.

“Agreed,” they wheezed.

Discarding one of the numbered sticks for later, the first mate held out his fist, prompting everyone to draw.

Nami was the lucky lady, and she gave a catlike grin as she considered her potential victims. Should she demand their wallets? No, they were wearing swimsuits, so they probably wouldn’t have them on them. Have someone kiss her feet? Whatever it was, it needed to be devious and hilarious if she wanted any chance at getting Law to enjoy himself. The man took sadistic pleasure in other peoples’ discomfort, after all.

The perfect idea came to her like a vision from God. No matter who her command was inflicted on, it would be funny, but if luck was on her side…

“Numbers two and three have to kiss each other on the lips for three seconds.”

Inwardly she cheered as, across from her, the first and second mate gaped down at their numbers in abject horror.

“You know, I used to like you,” Shachi groused while Penguin glared at her.

“Ha!” Ermine laughed weakly from under Bepo’s furry mass. “Looks like I got off easy.”

“Watch it, asshole, or I’ll take my sweet time and let you suffer!”

“Nami, please reconsider!” Penguin begged, shuddering at the mere thought of kissing his best friend. “We agreed to keep it PG-13, remember?”

The Straw Hat shrugged nonchalantly, which was heavily at odds with the evil grin etched on her face. “It’s just a peck—hardly anything scandalous.”

“A three-second peck is still three seconds too long!”

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re afraid of cooties!” Ikkaku jeered, which made Penguin blush in embarrassment.

“I’m not afraid of anything! I just have standards!” Shachi defended himself.

“Hey!” Penguin snapped, looking wholly offended. “Fucking excuse me, but standards? I’ve seen some of the women you’ve slept with, and I’m sure as hell prettier than your last one-night stand!”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean, creampuff?”

“It means you can’t attract good-looking women to save your life, barnacle-face!”

Nami rolled her eyes at the childish fight and was about ready to knock them both over the heads to put an end to the argument when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

For a second, it looked like Law’s mouth had twitched upwards. It could have been a trick of the light, or he was actually amused by his friends’ obvious discomfort just as she’d planned. Not willing to let the chance to get Law back in good spirits slip away, Nami pointedly cleared her throat to catch the duo’s attention.

Clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes, she gave her best pout. “Please, boys? For me?”

“And me?” Ikkaku joined in, mimicking Nami’s flirtatious pose.

Weak against the machinations of such beautiful women, their resolve wavered and Nami, locking eyes with Penguin, jerked her head towards his captain and gave a subtle thumbs up. Penguin seemed to catch on to her meaning, as he gave a small, resigned nod before sighing and grabbing Shachi’s head to slam their mouths together for a quick, awkward kiss.

The moment his grip loosened, Shachi jerked away, spitting and sputtering with disgust. “Oh gods! My mouth! You’ve poisoned me!”

“Believe me, I didn’t like it any more than you did, dickhead,” Penguin grumbled as he furiously wiped his lips. Taking pity on the poor man, Ikkaku passed him his water bottle, though she didn’t bother to repress her snigger when he swished a large gulp of water around his mouth before spitting it out.

Meanwhile, Nami peered at Law, hoping his sour shell had finally cracked. But while he wasn’t glaring at them all like he was plotting how to brutally murder them and hide the evidence, his expression was still far from his normal carefree smirk.

“Good to see you’re both so secure in your masculinity,” he sneered.

“Give me a break, Law,” Shachi coughed, though there was a slight hint of red in his cheeks at being called out. “She might as well have asked me to kiss my brother. My gross, ugly-ass brother.”

“Love you too, man,” Penguin replied sarcastically as he collected the lots, pointedly ignoring the rest of the crew’s sniggering.

The next two rounds, though amusing, were fairly uneventful; Jude got his feet kissed by Jean Bart, much to the larger man’s obvious disdain, and Nami, upon becoming King again, demanded a shoulder massage, which Ikkaku was all too happy to give. The rest of the men certainly had no complaints about getting to watch the two beautiful women in sexy bathing suits pamper each other, so the round lasted nearly a full five minutes without even Law interjecting to hurry them up.

In fact, Nami could feel Law’s hot gaze upon her as she arched into Ikkaku’s touch. The engineer was surprisingly good with her hands and her skilled fingers even managed to coax out a few pleased sighs from the thief’s lips as she worked at a knot of tension in her shoulders. Through hooded eyes, Nami noticed the tip of Law’s pink tongue peek out to moisten his lips as he leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers as he observed the motions of Ikkaku’s fingers as they kneaded her skin.

Nami had the feeling that he was taking notes for his own fiendish use. Her suspicions were confirmed when Ikkaku managed to press down on the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder; Law’s golden eyes practically lit up when she let out a faint, involuntary sound of delight.

The attention they were getting didn’t escape Ikkaku’s notice, either. “God, you’re all animals,” she groused, rolling her eyes as she pulled away from Nami. Patting her friend on the head, she said, “I’ll finish the job back our cabin, Nami. Away from prying eyes.”

“Sounds good to me,” she teased back despite her mild flush. She justified the sense of satisfaction she felt to the fact that, despite the show being over, some of the tension in Law’s shoulders has eased as if he’d been the one getting the massage. He hadn’t quite reached to point of relaxation, but it was clear the game was successfully beginning to distract him from his obsessive planning.

A few more rounds passed before Penguin had the good luck of becoming King. He rubbed his chin in thought as he considered his order. “Number eight has to do an impression of number one.”

“Ooo, I got eight!” Ikkaku shouted, grinning widely. A gleam of pure mischief twinkled in her brown eyes. Across from her, Law sighed, raising the stick to show he was number one.

“Remember who signs your paychecks,” he grumbled, scowl once more settling across his face.

“‘Remember who signs your paychecks’,” she repeated, voice dropping a few octaves as she smirked. Getting up, she struck a few poses, dramatically holding out her hands like Law did when he used his powers. “Room. Shambles.”

The group chuckled and sniggered around them while Law continued to glare up at the engineer as if he was trying to set her ablaze with his mind. None of them felt particularly bad about cheering Ikkaku on; considering what she’d gone through on Grimm, she was probably the only one besides Nami who could get away with a less-than-flattering impersonation of the captain. In fact, Jude and Seiuchi decided to aid her impression by getting up and switching places in the circle, gasping in mock surprise at their new positions.

Emboldened by her fellow Heart Pirates’ approval, Ikkaku melodramatically recoiled from some imaginary horror, face twisting in disgust. “Ugh, is that bread?! So help me, I’ll switch your brain and your bowels if I find so much as a crumb on my plate!”

Nami stifled a cackle behind her palm as she noticed Law’s cheeks heat up just the slightest bit. “I do not sound like that,” he scoffed, arms folded tightly across his tattooed chest.

Ikkaku donned a serious expression, mimicking his posture and frowning down at Law as if in the midst of a stern lecture. Their eyes locked, and an unspoken challenge was declared. “Ikkaku, you can’t install lasers onto the sides of the ship because they’re not yellow! I committed to this obnoxious color scheme, and damn it, you’re not going to ruin it with your cool ideas!”

“I never said that.”

“Ikkaku, you’re the most brilliant, valuable member of my crew and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I definitely never said that.”

“Ikkaku, you’re fired.”

“Now that I have said. Multiple times.”

Plopping down onto the sand and reclining against Bepo, she cheekily flipped her captain off. However, it seemed the ridiculousness of the situation finally broke Law, as his scowl dissolved as he chuckled and returned the gesture, admitting defeat.

Whether he was overtired or he legitimately found it funny, it didn’t matter; at last, the brooding captain was having a bit of fun.

Determined to keep his spirits up, the crew eagerly drew numbers again, each planning their own silly command. Seuichi had the honor of becoming King that round and rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Number nine has to wrestle number six.”

“In the name of every god ever dreamed up throughout history, I will make you fucking pay for this,” Jude snarled at him as Jean Bart proved that he’d drawn number nine.

“Hey, Jude, don’t be afraid,” the gunner countered with a smirk, twirling his thin mustache deviously. “I’m sure Jean Bart will go easy on you. I mean, it’s not like you had him kiss your feet recently, right?”

“Yeah,” the helmsman said menacingly, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve never done that.”

Jude stared at Law beseechingly, but the captain merely smirked and ordered, “You reap what you sow. Maybe this'll teach you to be a bit nicer to your shipmates.”

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered as he squared off against the much larger man.

It did. Jude didn’t even last ten seconds before he was put in a headlock and forced to tap out.

Next, Law drew the King stick, and that oh-so-familiar smirk finally adorned his face. “I order ten and five to worship me and declare how great I am.”

Nami gave a quiet sigh of relief that she hadn’t drawn either number. She wanted Law in a good mood, but a girl had her limits. Game or not, her literally worshiping him on her knees was the exact kind of thing he’d hold over her head for the rest of the year.

After Uni and Penguin finished extolling their captain’s virtues for a good three minutes, it was time for the next round.

“Woo, I’m the King!” Shachi cheered as he held up the stick adorned with the little crown drawing. Behind his sunglasses, he peered at the circle mischievously. Reaching into a nearby beach bag, he pulled out a small box. “Your illustrious ruler demands that number seven and number four play three rounds of the Pocky Game.”

Glancing down at her popsicle stick, Nami silently cursed her luck; the number seven was written at the top in bold, black marker. Brown eyes darted about the group, wondering who she’d have to play with until they landed on Law’s wide smirk. Silently, he turned his stick for all to see, showcasing the number four neatly printed at the top.

“Holy crap,” Shachi sniggered. He didn’t even need to see Nami’s number—her mortified expression said it all. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Gleeful at the unexpected vengeance, Penguin eagerly leaned forward to hand her the box. “No need to be shy, number seven. It’s just the Pocky Game—hardly anything scandalous, right?”

The navigator glared at him before heaving out a sigh. “Right,” she grumbled, grabbing the strawberry pocky and shuffling over to sit across from Law. It was for the greater good, right? They were trying to keep the grumpy captain out of his sour bubble. It was no big deal; she could always break away before their mouths got anywhere near each other.

Smug grin widening, the captain leaned in as Nami slipped the creme-covered biscuit stick between her lips. “It’s ok if you chicken out after the first bite, Nami-ya,” he teased as he gently bit down on the other end, gold eyes bright with amusement.

Fire flashed in Nami’s eyes. She might not mind being a coward in most situations, but this time, her pride was on the line.

Her righteous courage abandoned her quickly, though. The moment she felt his hot breath tickle her nose she jerked away, blushing in embarrassment as she realized there was still a good two inches of pocky dangling from Law’s mouth.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he chewed on the crunchy treat.

“Only if you’re ready to eat what’s basically a breadstick,” she countered, hoping to gross him out so he’d back down.

Law didn’t fall for her ploy. “It’s closer to a cookie, really, and those I can stomach. Especially if the prize at the end is worth it,” he replied with a leer, deliberately running his tongue along his upper lip.

Why am I even freaking out about this? Nami wondered as she pulled out another stick of pocky. If we do end up kissing, who cares? It’s just a brush of lips. Completely innocent. No worse than Shachi and Penguin’s peck. More importantly, I can’t let him psyche me out—he wants that way more than a tiny, indirect kiss.

Determination returned, she carefully balanced the thin treat between her teeth, steeling herself as Law slowly leaned in to take the other end. This time, they managed to nearly bite their way to the middle. Unfortunately, a gentle breeze blew in, causing a loose strand of Nami’s sweetly scented hair to flutter against Law’s nose. His nostrils twitched at the delicate tickling, and this time he pulled away, turning his head in anticipation of a sneeze that never came.

“Shit,” he growled, annoyed at his ill luck.

A smug smirk curled Nami’s lips. “Now who’s the one chickening out?” she teased.

“I didn’t chicken out. Or would you rather I sneeze all over your pretty face?”

“Yeah, that was one hell of a sneeze,” she replied sarcastically. She didn’t know why she was provoking him—the man was far from shy about looking for an excuse to kiss her, and her cheek basically guaranteed that he wouldn’t let her off easy in the last round.

She refused to acknowledge the tiny voice in her ear whispering that she knew damn well why she was egging him on. That she got a primal thrill sassing such a dangerous man and coming out alive when so many others couldn’t. Taunting Law was like playing with a tiger; he could rip her to shreds if she grew too careless, but he’d wouldn’t sink his claws in so long as he enjoyed the chase.

Law stuck the final stick of pocky between his teeth, beckoning her forward with a “come hither” curl of his finger. In response, Nami rested her hands on his bare knees as she leaned in, bracing herself as she wrapped her lips around the other end. Their gazes locked, and in sync, they slowly started nibbling along the sweet, crunchy stick.

The seconds dragged by as, inch by inch, their faces drew closer. Nami tensed as she felt his exhalation warm her skin, while Law’s eyes suspiciously flicked towards her hair as if daring it to interfere again. However, neither pulled away, and he pounced on the opportunity presented to him; angling his head and closing the last centimeter between them to brush his lips across hers in a chaste but teasing fashion. When Nami didn’t immediately pull away, Law tested his luck further by lightly catching her plump bottom lip between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue to soothe it.

The action sent tingles down Nami’s spine and she finally broke away, cheeks red and breath quickening minutely. It had been barely more than a few seconds—the kiss she’d given him at the gala had been longer—but the tension between them had made it a tempting, sizzling experience.

“So,” Law drawled, watching the Cat Thief as she shuffled back to her spot like the hungry tiger he was, “who’s up for another round?”

The pair was so focused on each other they didn’t notice Shachi and Penguin subtly low-five while Bepo and Ikkaku shared a thumbs-up.

XXX

“Seriously? We leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re back at your plans?” Nami sighed as she plopped onto the towel next to Law, eyeing the messy papers in his hands disdainfully. The King Game had ended not long ago with everyone in good spirits. Even Nami, despite her lingering embarrassment from the kiss, had managed to enjoy the final round where Jude had to serenade the crew by singing “Dr. Heart Stealer.”

“The deal was that I would play for thirty minutes and then you all would leave me in peace,” he replied, not even looking up from his notes. He’d escaped back to his makeshift workstation the moment Bepo had inadvertently caused a commotion when, tempted by the smell of fresh fish, he’d absconded with the large sea bass Ermine was preparing to grill. The rest of the crew had chased after him; some in hopes of saving their dinner, others treating it as a new game.

That left no one but Nami to confront the workaholic captain, even though she would have been happier to keep her distance for a while longer. “That deal was solely between you and Shachi as you were non-specific regarding the plurality of ‘you’. You really must be tired if you missed an important detail like that.”

He scowled, realizing that she was right but refusing to admit it. Changing tactics, Law tilted his head slightly, smirking down at her with hooded eyes. “If you’re so concerned, I’ll take another break later if you make it worth my while. Perhaps with another round of the Pocky Game?” he purred.

She flushed slightly at his suggestion but refused to let him distract her, instead turning her attention to the books before them. “You have five seconds to finish whatever you’re doing before I toss those into the ocean.”

Annoyed, he glared at her defiance before reluctantly activating his Room, teleporting the books, papers, and Kikoku safely inside the submarine. There was too much of a risk that she’d make good on her threat and destroy his work, and he also wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from cutting her to bits if she did. “That’s the last order you get to give me tonight, Nami-ya,” he grumbled. “I don’t take kindly to being bossed around.”

Rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, she leaned back on her hands, enjoying the sensation of the warm sun on her face. Honestly, he should be thanking her. Days like these were too perfect to waste studying, and the tide was coming in—his work would be ruined anyway if he didn’t get those books off the beach. “You really are such a control freak. Would it kill you to listen to the wisdom of those around you for once?”

“Are you saying you don’t get caught up in your cartography?” he challenged.

“Look, as someone who used to be forced to work nonstop without food or sleep for days on end, I fucking appreciate it when my nakama makes me take a break.”

Law grunted in reluctant acceptance, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared out at the vibrant waves that slowly threatened to encroach his spot. “I do appreciate their concern, but they should also respect my authority as captain.”

“They do, Law,” Nami sighed, rubbing her temples, “but respect and blind obedience aren’t the same thing. You’re practically killing yourself working on those plans; are the guys supposed to just sit by and watch? And considering how…personal this all seems to be, they have even more right to be worried and tell you to take a step back.”

“Yes, it is personal—that’s why I can’t leave anything to chance. Atifakuto is known for its museums and art auctions. If I’m to blend in well enough to get my hands on that vase, I need to be well-versed on history and art throughout the four Blues.”

Ah. No wonder he’d been so intent on studying. “I get it; this is important to you, tons of preparation is needed, and a lot relies on you. But planning to the point of sleep deprivation is only going to increase your chances of messing up. You need to sleep, Law.”

“Contrary to what you might think, it’s not my work that’s been keeping me awake. I can’t sleep—insomnia’s a bitch like that. The body may crave it, but the mind has other ideas.”

“You managed to catch a nap earlier,” she argued weakly.

“Oh yes, because a brief doze in the sun makes up for nearly a week of nightmares.”

Brown eyes widened in surprise. Nightmares? Nami wondered. What kind of nightmares could the Surgeon of Death get?

Realizing he’d given her a nugget of personal information he hadn’t intended, Law’s entire expression closed off as he got to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Law—”

He turned towards the eastern side of the beach, the bold face of his back tattoo smiling mockingly at her as he activated his Room. “I’ll be back by sunset,” were the last words he said before he vanished, replaced by a broken, rusted metal bar.

XXX

Law wasn’t back by sunset, though the crew assured Nami that there was no reason to worry.

“Law loves to go on long, aimless walks,” Bepo said as he handed her some pineapple slices. He’d managed to eat the giant sea bass before the crew caught him, but they’d stumbled upon some ripe fruit in the process, along with a bed of oysters, so Ermine had reluctantly forgiven him. “They help clear his head when he’s got a lot on his mind or his insomnia gets bad. If we can’t get him to sleep, this is the next best thing. At least he’s not working.”

She hummed in reply, still mulling over what kind of nightmares a man like Law could be having. Were they related to Amber Lead, or was it something else? The man was a renowned sadist and didn’t seem to blink when it came to murder or torture, though admittedly the only people she’d seen him actually harm were utter scumbags.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Skua and Malamute, the engineers having at last come out of the ship. Their brows furrowed as they looked around at the small gathering, confused.

“Where is everyone?” Skua asked, taking a plate of steamed oysters.

“Probably still exploring the island,” Ermine said with a shrug.

“It’s not a big island; shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“You know Cousteau; maybe he found some pond full of weird fish or something and is making everyone document their behavior throughout the day.”

Malamute’s brow furrowed. “I’d believe that if it were just him in charge, but you’re forgetting Crozier’s with him. You know, the man who survived a forced march across an island literally made of ice and rocks? That guy doesn’t fuck around; if he says the crew will be back by sunset, they’ll be back by sunset.”

Penguin considered his words, rubbing his chin. “You’ve got a point. They might be in trouble.”

“Or they’re on their way back now,” Shachi said with a shrug, chowing down on some grilled fish Bepo hadn’t gotten to. “There aren’t even any predators on the island, and if anyone got injured, they would have called on Crozier’s mini Den Den Mushi.”

The bushes behind them rustled loudly, and Shachi jerked his head in their direction. “See? That’s probably them now. Or maybe it’s Law, and you can ask him to Scan the island for them.”

Before anyone could reply, a massive boar burst out of the jungle, squealing in fury as it barreled into the camp, knocking over tables, chairs, and umbrellas. Instinctively, Penguin grabbed a burning stick from the fire and waved the hot flame at the beast in hopes of scaring it away. However, its green eyes flashed in clear anger at the threat, and, sharp tusks gleaming in the red glow, it let out another loud squeal before charging at the first mate, showing none of the instinctive fear one would expect for the man’s primitive weapon.

Acting fast, Ikkaku tackled Penguin so the boar just missed them, the soft beach sand cushioning their impact. However, the beast didn’t stop, using its momentum to make a U-turn for another attempt on the group.

It didn’t get far, though, as Jean Bart managed to grab it mid-charge and pick it up as if it were no bigger than a corgi. As the boar squealed angrily, he chucked it up into the air, watching as it flew in a wide arch high above them before landing somewhere in the middle of the jungle.

“Where the fuck did that thing come from?” Ikkaku panted.

“The jungle, obviously,” Jude groused, helping her and Penguin to their feet.

“But boars aren’t native to the island,” Uni pointed out. “Last time we were here, only birds and turtles had managed to make this place their home. So either it washed up on shore in that shipwreck, or someone brought it here.”

Skua knelt down and studied one of the debris in the woodpile. “This looks like it could have been part of a crate. Or a cage.”

Nami remembered the metal bar Law had switched himself with. “My money’s on cages. Maybe that pirate ship was transporting animals.”

“Do you think there are more of them?” Shachi asked as he pulled a pistol out of his beach bag.

Uni peered into the shadowy trees. “Who knows? Maybe something even worse is lurking in the jungle, waiting to pick us off.”

“The last thing we need is you freaking everyone out with your ghost stories!” Ermine snapped, even as he grabbed a large carving knife to use as a machete.

Penguin frowned as the crew armed themselves with the knives and pistols they’d habitually brought along. “Ok, given the fact that we were literally just attacked by a wild animal, I say we should start looking for the others. If nothing else, if a boar was able to survive the shipwreck, then it’s possible something more dangerous did, too. There may even be human survivors.”

“Do we split up or stay together?” Jean Bart asked.

“Hmm, split up into smaller groups, but no one’s to wander the island alone. That way we all have someone watching our backs while still covering the optimal amount of ground. That work for everyone?”

“Aye-aye!” they shouted, pairing up as they headed into the dense foliage, lanterns and weapons in hand.

“I’ll catch up!” Nami called out to them, sprinting towards the small motorboats. There was no way she was going to go wandering around a jungle with so much skin exposed again; she learned her lesson after Little Garden. She also wanted to grab her Clima-Tact; Ikkaku had been modifying it that morning, so it was likely still in their quarters.

To her surprise, instead of following the others, Bepo stayed with her. “None of us should go wandering off alone, right?” he explained nervously. “And somebody should head back to the ship to call Crozier; at the very least, they need to know there’s potentially dangerous wildlife around.”

“Good thinking,” she said, climbing onto the boat and revving the engine. It only took them a few minutes to get to the submarine, but she could tell Bepo was fretting from the way he clicked his claws together. “They’ll be fine,” she assured as she scaled the side ladder onto the bottom deck.

“I hope so. Maybe they ran into Law?”

“If they did, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Bepo sighed as they stepped into the comparatively cooler interior of the submarine. “I’ll go make the call; meet me on deck in a few minutes?”

“Sure; I shouldn’t take long.” True to her word, Nami dashed to her quarters and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved top. The fabric was stifling against her skin, but it was better than risking another Keschia bite. Her hand hesitated over her Clima-Tact and holster; Ikkaku had told her she’d managed to increase the power of a few things, but they hadn’t been properly tested yet. Should she risk it? Ikkaku was good with machines and gadgets, but she wasn’t Usopp.

Couldn’t turn out any worse than the first time, she decided, recalling her battle with Ms. Doublefinger. If she could secure a dark horse victory with a weapon she’d never even used before, she could certainly manage with a modified one.

Weapon securely strapped to her leg and delicate skin protected from any prehistoric bug bites, Nami determined she was ready. However, as she trotted down the hall, she hesitated in front of Law’s quarters.

Though her trust in Law had grown to the point where she didn’t think he’d be selling Vegapunk’s weapons research, she still wanted to take a look at Harpin’s ledgers. Wanted to finally unravel the mystery as to why Jinbei had set Arlong loose in the East Blue. She’d noticed some of the research had centered around cyborgs; Franky could use that. Then there was the stuff on Kuma and the Pacifistas—if they needed to fight him again, she’d much rather know what they were up against. There was intel on Blackbeard, too; considering how he was the reason Luffy’s brother was dead, she had no doubt her captain would end up fighting him. Any information she could give him could save his life!

She’d considered just asking Law if she could look at them. Surely he’d understand her reasons; be able to appreciate her desire to plan and be prepared. But the time was never right—he was either obsessively planning and thus rather ornery and volatile, or they were in the midst of some crisis and it would slip her mind. Besides that, she still wasn’t sure why he wanted them.

The information in those books is more valuable to me than everything in that mansion combined, he’d sneered during their fight. But what information was that? He’d burned the blackmail and Marine profiles. As far as she knew, he’d kept his word and not sold any of Vegapunk’s weapons research. Hell, he’d been more interested in his fertilizer formula, and that was as a favor to Nami.

If the research and blackmail weren’t what he wanted, why did he got to so much trouble to get those ledgers? What other information could possibly have been worth nearly getting himself and his crew killed?

By process of elimination, that left the book on the shichibukai, and with his control-freak tendencies and his violent reaction the last time they’d discussed it, she wasn’t sure he’d be willing to part with it.

She could borrow it, though. Grab it, hide it, make a copy, then find a way to return it without him noticing.

Unconsciously, her hand slowly raised to the cold steel door handle. This was the first time the ship had been completely empty. Everyone was preoccupied on the island. Surely she could take a few minutes to grab the ledger from Law’s room, right? Just a quick in-and-out. He didn’t need it at the moment—it had nothing to do with his plans. He wouldn’t even miss it.

Cautiously, she tried to open the door. Locked. She could easily pick it with her tools, though. She could pop back into her room, grab them, jimmy the lock, grab the ledger, pop back out…

She was wasting time. Bepo was waiting for her. What would she tell him if he saw her breaking into his captain’s room? Or worse, what if Law suddenly returned? He could teleport back to the ship without her even realizing, and she doubted he’d be happy to see her there, especially when his crew was in potential danger.

If Nami wanted to get that ledger, she’d need a much better plan than some spur-of-the-moment burglary attempt.

Making a mental note to start working on that once the current crisis was over, she sprinted back to the main deck to find a worried and dejected Bepo.

“They didn’t pick up.”

A thousand outlandish scenarios about what could have happened to them popped into Nami’s head, from cannibals to the island actually being a sentient being that had been slowly devouring the crew for sustenance.

God, she missed Usopp. At least when he was around, she had someone to blame when she got worked up like this.

“M-maybe we should stay on the ship. You know, in case they try to call us?” she said nervously, her old scaredy-cat tendencies bubbling to the surface.

“But what if no one finds Law? Even if the others return, we’ll all just have to head back out into the jungle to find him. It’s better to find him first, and you saw him last, right? You have the best idea where he might have gone.”

Slumping, she sighed. He was right, and unfortunately, Crozier and Cousteau’s team had gone West, so it was unlikely the search party had thought to go in Law’s direction. “I guess you’re right.”

By the time they arrived on the shore the rest of the crew was long gone, so Nami and Bepo headed East towards where she’d seen Law wander off.

“Even if there are wild beasts, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Law,” Bepo assured her confidently as they searched, keeping to the outskirts of the jungle. The tide had washed away Law’s footprints, but they were hoping to find some sort of clue or disturbance along to foliage to see if he’d ventured into the jungle. “I’m sure he’s already on his way back; we’ll find him in no time, and then he can use his powers to Scan the island and make sure there’s nothing else dangerous!”

Nami’s mouth twisted in disdain. She was beginning to understand why Law put so much pressure on himself; his powers, plans, and medical abilities were everyone’s go-to solution for any given problem. She wondered if Law’s control-freak tendencies were because of this, or if he’d always been that way and the Hearts had just learned to pick their battles.

Regardless, Bepo had a point this time—if Law used his powers, they’d know the situation with the island and where the crew was in one fell swoop.

Life was never that easy, though. Icy dread crawled down Nami’s back as she caught a flash of yellow near the edge of the jungle. Heart in her throat, she darted towards it, barely restraining a strangled sob when she realized it was the shredded remains of Law’s swim trunks.

Oh my God! Nami could feel sharp tears sting her eyes as she collapsed to her knees, cradling the tattered mesh in her hands. Up close, she could clearly see it had been torn apart by a razor-sharp blade or, more likely, claws and teeth. What could have done this? There’s no way it was a boar! Please don’t tell me he’s—

She jumped as a set of long, sharp claws filled her vision, only to realize it was Bepo reaching for the piece of cloth.

“There’s no blood,” he mumbled, studying it closely.

Hope filled her chest at those simple words. If there was no blood, there was a chance Law was perfectly fine! Probably buck-naked, but that was way better than dead!

Her happy bubble burst when a strange, husky sound reached her ears. Goosebumps rose up along her arms as she realized it was a growl of some kind.

She lifted her head slowly, only to find a pair of wild gold eyes peeking out from the darkness of the jungle. The beast moved closer, and Nami found herself mere feet away from a snarling snow leopard, its white fangs bared menacingly.

#Fic: Welcome to the Heart Pirates #lawna #law x nami #lawnami #heart pirate nami #heart pirates #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #op fanfic #trafalgar law x nami #trafalgar D. Water Law #trafalgar law #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #nami #straw hat nami #shachi one piece #one piece shachi #shachi #one piece ikkaku #ikkaku one piece #ikkaku #penguin one piece #one piece penguin #one piece bepo #bepo #king game #pocky game #beach fun

[kathyprior4200]

Helluva Boss Episode Remakes!

 Not too far away from Pentagram City lay a shady place in the bowels of Hell. “Welcome to Imp City: est. 1981” was posted on a worn wooden sign with a white painted eye toward the top. Under a crimson sky, a wide array of buildings made up the city, some with spikes on the roofs. Downtrodden imps of various colors and sizes mulled around the streets and ghettos. Mugging, sex, drugs, poverty, and murder were common aspects of their everyday afterlives. Indeed, being considered “lesser demons” and the “lowest of the low,” not very many had opportunities granted to them.

 Well, save for a unique family of imps, trying to get their business running.

 Just who were these imps?

 A nearby screen showed old fashioned numbers ticking down, 3, 2, and 1. Blitzo, a red and white faced imp, appeared on stage in front of purple open curtains. “Hi there! I’m Blitzo! The “O” is silent, and I’m the founder of I.M.P.!” He put out his hand and the logo appeared above it. The “M” in I.M.P. looked like imp horns, black and white in color. Down below were the words “Immediate Murder Professionals.”

 Blitzo spoke again. “Are you a piece of shit who got yourself sent to Hell?”

 A picture of Blitzo with a mustache and two black top hats over his horns was grinning evilly as a building burned in the background. The sign nearby read “Orphanage for elderly, blind, and newborn dogs.”

 “Or are you an innocent soul who just happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

 The next image showed Blitzo in a white angel costume, happily throwing away a Styrofoam coffee cup in a wastepaper basket instead of a recycling bin in an office.

 In the next shot, Blitzo held up a sign which read “Some guy who hired us!” A buff horned red demon wearing a white Ohio shirt stood not too far from the camera, a 666 News billboard in the background. He punched one fist into his hand.

 “After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you can imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the state of Ohio killed me. I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body.”

 Blitzo appeared again, this time with his fellow imps Millie and Moxxie in the background. A white-clothed altar with a mirror and skulls on it was in the very back. White candles were spread around the room. The two imps were sitting at a pentagram drawn on the floor. Blitzo held a blue Satanic ritual book in his hand.

 “Well, luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…”

 He waved his hand and a flaming portal appeared in the center of the room, causing Moxxie and Millie to scatter.

 “…we can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!” He happily fell through the portal on his back like it was a mosh pit.

 Then the musical jingle started:

 “When you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals”

  “Hand grenade or cyanide

We’ll make it look like suicide

The Immediate Murder Professionals”

 “We do our job so well

‘Cause we come straight up from Hell…”

 “We’ll kill your husband or you wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife,

 The Immediate…Murder…Professionals.

 Kids die for freeee!”

  A white person appeared with a thought bubble of his enemy with a red x. A demon fell to the floor and the person looked up. The I.M.P. logo appeared, silhouettes of Millie with a spear, Moxxie with a gun and Blitzo in the middle, spreading out his arms to make an “M.”

 Fast paced shots flashed through the ad.

 Moxxie throwing a grenade out a window as his companions grinned.

 Blitzo hanging a person in an office building while Moxxie watched. Millie held a suicide note in her hand.

 Then more killing scenes flashed: Blitzo electrocuting a person, Millie using a mace, Moxxie choking his victim.

 Blitzo led the way through a portal to Earth, Millie and Moxxie following. Moxxie tripped on a book and landed on his face while the others posed. They then stood up shocked…at the people in a church staring at them in confusion.

 Millie killed a naked couple with a chainsaw while Blitzo looked greedily at a woman’s underwear.

 Blitzo repeatedly stabbed someone else tied up near a “Blitzo show” sign at a circus.

 The three imps used more methods to kill Earthlings: Medieval torture racks, shark attacks, fire and gasoline on someone, pillow suffocation, crushing someone to death with a grand piano, the electric chair for a prisoner…

 “Kids die for freeeee!” ended the ad.

 Moxxie and Millie sang a murder love song in their living room before the meeting. Moxxie played on his purple demon-face guitar as Millie watched him with love in her eyes. It reminded them of the good times when they would shot at demons together in the streets, drag a bloody sack behind them and when Millie got a grenade as a present and used it to blow up a building.

  “Oh what a thrill when the crimson starts to spill

And my Millie goes in for the kill

She takes away my breath

She’s the angel of death for me

Oh Millie

She a queen, it’s like a dream

When I hear her victims start to scream

Get him out of the sack

She’s a maniac for me

Oh Millie

When the blood starts dripping down the sides

And the bodies start to fall from the skies

My heart skips a beat

When my Millie’s guns a blazing in the night

That’s in love

She makes the murdering fun for me”

 Both of them hummed before Moxxie finished,

  “Of all the imps in Hell…

Millie joined in, “It’s for him that I fell…

“Oh Millie.” They leaned in for a kiss.

  They paused. Moxxie yelled, while looking out the window. His boss, Blitzo was pressed against the window with a video camera. “Are you fucking filming us right now?!”

 Moxxie sighed, as a smiling Blitzo held up a sign which read “Meeting in 20 min: nice job banging yo’ wife!”

  Just before the meeting, the head imp, Blitzo walked into the receptionist room.

 “Blitz!” called Loona, the hellhound, holding a bone shaped phone in her hand. “That clingy rich asshole’s on the phone! Says it’s urgent and wants to talk to you!” Then she added in a lower voice, “Sounds a little DTFy.” (Down to Fuck)

 Blitzo spilled water on himself as he talked with Moxxie by the water cooler. “Oh god that was one time! We wouldn’t have access to the living world…if I hadn’t slept with that privileged asshole!”

 “You what?” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

 “Blitz!” Loona barked in outrage.

 “I heard you already!” Blitzo yelled. He stomped into his office and picked up his red cell phone. He played with little bobble heads of his imp coworkers, Moxxie and Millie. Signs were tacked to the wall, reading: “The Incredible Blitzo! One night only! Tickets now at the Big Top!”

 “So…” Blitzo beamed nervously, “What can I do you for this time, Stolas?”

 The owl overlord replied, lounging on his couch in a royal red robe and a crown.

 “Remember that time when I told you that a political candidate was causing problems up on Earth for a few of my associates? That he tried to convince people that global warming existed?”

 “Yes?” Blitzo answered.

 “And that it does, but more people die when nothing’s done about it? Oh, how lonely I felt.”

 “Okay well, yeah that makes sense,” Blitzo said.

 “But now…” he hooted in laughter. “There are tons of new sinners coming down here every day! I just had a feast and a murder party several nights ago. I wondered why a horde of people arrived and it’s because of a disease called the coronavirus! My, it’s the best thing to ever happen since my wedding with my queen Melody and my darling daughter Octavia’s graduation from flight school. Oh, how marvelous!”

 “Well…I’m very happy for you, sir,” Blitzo said. “I hope that…corn-ah virus does its thing.”

 Stolas sighed. “My wife wasn’t happy with me, though. She said you fell onto a cake in the middle of a lunch with her and the royal officials. What did you say to her?”

 “I said…’sorry I fucked your husband.’” He gulped.

 A tense silence.

 Blitzo examined his chest and arms. “I still have the talon scars and peck marks to prove it.”

 “And she also said that you stole one of my books, is that true?”

 “No! No way!” Blitzo lied, with a nervous laugh. “That was another imp long ago. Can I tell you how great it felt…sleeping with you?”

 “Indeed,” Stolas agreed with a contented sigh. “Your sharp horns and claws ruffling through my feathers, and my talons and beak exploring your multicolored flesh. You know what happens when I’m lonely, Blitzy?”

 “Oh, god fucking dammit…” Blitzo muttered to himself.

 Stolas’ eyes grew red. “When I’m lonely, I become hungry. And when I’m become hungry…I want to choke on that red dick of yours!  **** your ***** then lick all of your *****, before taking out your **** and **** with more teeth until you’re screaming ******** like a fucking baby!”

 Blitzo hung up the phone, the words on Stolas’ picture reading “creepy mouth: aka one night stand bird dick.” and smashed it with a rotary phone. He threw the pieces into a blender and mixed it up.

 “Eat this!” he told Loona who walked in and drank the red liquid.

 “And then you know that bridge over the freeway?” he asked.

 “Yeah?”

 “Shit off it! It’s time for the meeting, let’s go.”

  The imps currently resided in a tall office building that seemed to stand out among the other structures. Along with spikes jutting from the roof and sides, there were a pair of giant black and white imp horns attached to the sides of the building for decoration. The lights inside near the top floor were on.

 Posted on a door were the words “I.M.P. Headquarters” with “IMP Meeting in Progress” written on a piece of paper taped to the door, a smiley face off to the side.

 On a white board was a bar graph and a line graph, the line graph pointing lower at a drawing of a raging horned demon. “Fix this shit!” was written in big bold letters that took up much of the board. “Blitzo is the best, by Blitzo” was scribbled off to the side. Several tall chairs with spikes jutting from the top boarders were set near a brown table in the center of the room. A white pentagram was drawn in the center of the table.

 Up front, a black, white, and red colored imp paced back and forth, sprouting long curved striped horns: Blitzo. He wore black fingerless gloves with what looked like a yellow eye design on each glove. He was dressed in a slender navy blue business suit with light red buttons. A small round pink pin with black eyes and a stitched mouth was attached onto a red undershirt below his slender chin. What looked like a black two-clawed print mark lay over his red forehead. Along with sharp teeth, the imp has red iris eyes with yellow sclera. Like a typical devil, he also had a red pointed tail. He had four red finger-shaped claws on each hand.

 Blitzo began to speak, pacing back and forth. He looked toward his audience of two imps and a hellhound sitting on chairs around a table.

 “Alright, now I know business has been…a bit slow, lately, yes.”

 He mentioned to the board at the downward sloping line. “In fact, there seems to be less people seeking out our services; 1,056 in comparison to the 1,066 from last month. We’ve basically spiraled from the True Blue Market to that of the Raging Bull.” He pointed at the roaring demon head drawing on the board.

 “Shouldn’t it be the Bull Market is good and the Bear Market is bad?” said a voice.

 “Loona, nobody cares,” Blitzo said. He continued.

 “Any decrease could spell disaster for us, not to mention how lots of people use our services and yet look down on us.”

  Blitzo cleared his throat and spread out his hands. “It’s no one’s fault, okay? I’m not naming any names here…Moxxie.”

 Moxxie raised his eyebrows in a “what the hell?” gesture as Blitzo looked at him. The serious imp had a red face, yellow eyes, white hair framing his face and stripped horns jutting off to the sides in slight curves. He wore a large red bow-tie and a navy blue suit. White freckles were present under his eyes.

 Blitzo continued, “Now does anyone have any bright ideas on how we can get business drumming up again?”

 Millie, the bubbly imp raised her hand. She had a red face, messy black hair with a white flower patch near the top, and short black horns with faint white stripes. Her eyes were also yellow and she wore a black top, black torn pants, high heeled shoes and a little black choker around her neck. Her eyelashes extended past her face.

 Millie waved her hand and beamed, eyes shining. “What…about…a car wash?!”

 “This is Hell, Millie. No one cares about cars being clean here, okay?”

 Just then, there came a coughing from the other room. A small cyclops demon with hot pink hair with a patch of yellow opened the door and walked in. She brushed off soot from her hot pink skirt and waved at the group, who stared in surprise.

 “Hi, I’m Niffty! It’s nice to meet you. Are you part of I.M.P.?”

 “Uh yes?” Blitzo replied, unsure of what to make of this random maid.

 “Oh great, because one of my friends sent me here to investigate, he’s a busy chap, you know, and oh so dreamy!”

 She darted around the room and began removing cobwebs from the windows. “It looks like there are two men, a woman and a dog here, a nice balance.”

 Loona, the grey hellhound glared at Niffty, narrowing her red eyes. “What was that, you little shit?”

 Loona had a red cell phone in her clawed paws, the back of the phone displaying a black upside down cross. She wore a grey top with black strings in the shape of an inverted pentagram. A spiked collar was around her neck. Her pants were dark and torn, with a white crescent moon on them. Her feet were bare and her hair and tail were thick with white and dark fur.

 Niffty stopped in her tracks. “Now, did you guys need any cars to be washed?”

 Blitzo shook his head. “We don’t have any cars here, we’re broke as fuck.”

 Millie stared at Niffty and cupped her own cheeks with her hands. “Oh my Satan! She’s so adorable! Can we keep her?!”

 “No!” Moxxie and Loona said at the same time. The two workers then glared at each other.

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “We’re in the middle of a meeting right now. Do you mind?!” He pointed to the door.

 Niffty laughed nervously, “Oh okay, sorry about that, hehhehheh. I’ll be outside if you need me!”

 She scurried out of the room.

 Blitzo paused for a moment, then said, “Oh right! Ideas for our company!” He waved his hands, his eyes shining. “Ooh, what about a billboard?”

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “We can’t afford a billboard, sir.”

 Blitzo rushed over and held Moxxie in a headlock. His voice was rushed and sarcastic, “Helpful, Moxxie. Really glad you’re in the room right now.” He shoved Moxxie away.

 Blitzo stared in frustration. “Have you guys forgotten what service we provide?”

 He picked up a remote and turned on an old fashioned TV.

 After static appeared on screen, the footage showed the group killing off individuals.

 Blitzo bashing a red demon’s head with a mullet.

Moxxie shooting a blue person tied up to a chair.

Loona grabbing a red person in her mouth and shaking the person side to side like a wolf.

Millie beheading a blue person with a spear and laughing.

 Blitzo watched with a relaxed smile on his face, holding up a blue bowl of popcorn. Loona sat on the table, popping popcorn pieces into her mouth. Millie was perched on the table, enjoying the show, but Moxxie stood off to the side with a grumpy face.

 Posters hung from the walls, one showing Blitzo and his two sisters, Tilla (an imp with long black hair) and Barbie Wire (a smiling imp with ram-like horns.) It was a picture of them at a circus, the banner reading “The Amazing Imp Siblings!” Blitzo remembered the good times he had with them when they performed on stage. Barbie Wire would balance on a tightrope, holding a pole with flames on either end. Tilla tamed and evaded manticores, dragons and other beasts that were released into the arena. Blitzo would sing songs about murdering people and they would all pose and bow at the end as the crowd cheered.

 That was before Blitzo moved on to form I.M.P. recruited Moxxie and Millie, and adopted Loona.

 Blitzo moved his hand toward his chest and sighed with content. “Ahh, those were the good times.”

 Moxxie spoke up as Millie ate a piece of popcorn. “I don’t need any reminding, sir, considering you blew most of our salaries on an obnoxious TV ad last week. One that you then additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel, nobody watches.”

 Blitzo turned his head, insulted. “Uh, hey, excuse me.” He stood up. “What’s “obnoxious” about a super-fun jingle, all right? It’s a fun distraction when an advertisement’s spittin’ bullshit!”

 He walked across the room.

 “People love musicals, sir,” Millie added.

 Blitzo smiled. “Exactly, Millie, and we’re basically doin’ a musical.” Blitzo did jazz hands before pointing rapidly at Moxxie with a scowl.

 “Are you gonna crush my musical theatre dreams like my dad did?” He lowered his head.

 “Sir…” Moxxie began, but his boss cut him off.

 “Because right now, all I see is just my dad’s asshole talking to me! Crushing my dreams of being who I truly am inside.” He turned his head away.

 Millie leaned in toward her husband and spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you trying to crush his dreams, Moxxie?”

 “I…what?” he asked, looking at her. Millie leaned in close and stuck out her tongue, tail curling. “I thought I knew you.” Moxxie rolled his eyes; his wife loved to annoy him.

 Blitzo turned back to Moxxie, tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe you, Moxxie. After I made you employee of the month!” He held a picture of Moxxie with his mouth open in a roar, snake tongue showing.

 Moxxie threw up his hands, “Okay, sir! I’m sorry, a commercial jingle is not comparable to musical theatre. Nobody actually likes the jingles.”

 “I liked it!” Millie pipped up.

 Moxxie turned to her, finger shaking, “Do not…do not agree with him in front of me.”

 Loona sat, bored, playing on her phone. Moxxie’s head appeared on the screen but was crushed by a weight and then blown up by a bomb. At one point his face was sliced in half as “boom!” flashed across the screen.

 “Remember when we shot that kid on Earth?” Blitzo asked.

 Moxxie got a flashback. “Oh, right. I shot that boy who was walking around licking strawberry ice cream. It was an accident. He was taken on a stretcher to the hospital.”

 The pink haired nurse had said, “Doctor, he’s not responding!”

 “Cool water, stat!” The blue-haired man had said next. He slammed water down on the boy and said, “It didn’t do anything!”

 The doctor had said, “Damn it! I’m not losing another one! “Clear!” Then they had shocked him and the boy somehow woke up with a gasp. The doctor said “Holy shit, it actually worked.”

 Millie then explained that the three of them sat in the waiting room. Blitzo read a magazine while Millie comforted Moxxie. The doctor had said to the imps, “He appears to be in stable condition, but he’ll need surgery. Now what insurance provider do you freaks have?”

 Then Blitzo asked, “The fuck is insurance?”

 Moxxie sighed, “…and then they kicked us and the boy out and we fell back into Hell.”

  A moment later, Moxxie spoke, hands forward in front of him. “I’d like to go on record and say that incident was Loona’s fault. Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It’s very simple.”

 “Oh, sit on a dick, Moxxie,” Loona replied without looking up.

 Moxxie stuttered angrily, looking for a comeback. “You sit! Sit on…a… and the d...do your job!” He slammed his palm on the table.

 Blitzo scolded him. “Hey, now we don’t blame our screw-ups on Loona, okay? She didn’t do anything wrong!” He hugged her and nuzzled his head against her cheek, the hellhound growling at him to get off.

 Moxxie stared in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, sir? She’s awful.”

 Lonna looked at her phone. “The other day, right? I answered the puppy barking phone and said ‘Hello, I.M.P.’ Millie was yelling, ‘Loona, I got stabbed! Call Mox…’ and then I hung up. Wasn’t my problem. My Hellhound Monthly magazine was much more interesting.”

 “Don’t forget about my adoption anniversary gift I gave you,” Blitzo said, scratching his neck.

 Lonna seethed. “Don’t remind me. It wasn’t a cure for syphilis, I didn’t want it, and it so happened to be black spiders, crawling all over me!”

 “Again, I’m sorry it was spiders,” Blitzo said.

 “God damn it, apology not accepted.”

 “You should be thankful that I rescued you after your hellhound family kicked you out,” Blitzo remarked.

 Loona’s ears twitched. Millie stared nervously. “I was perfectly capable of fending for myself,” barked Loona, looking up from her phone for the first time. “There was nothing special about them, other than all the alcohol, meth and drugs they took. My parents never cared about us. I mean, they sent off my other siblings to work for other overlords and were never seen again. Perhaps I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with them.”

 Blitzo had tears in his eyes. He hugged her again. “Well, at least you’ve got me, Moxxie, and Millie as your new family!”

 Loona hid a smile and just bared her fangs. “Get off of me before I bite your face off!”

 Blitzo stepped back.

 Loona then smiled and looked at Moxxie, a look of mischief in her red eyes.

 Moxxie scowled. “Excuse me, did you just fax me an ad for weight loss the other day?”

 “No,” Loona answered. “I was busy watching the princess sing.”

 “Wha-Why…Why would anyone send me that?!” Moxxie argued.

 “Come on, you know why.” She smirked.

 “I’m not chubby, thank you very much! Not to mention, you were the one who ate my avocado salad lunch! How rude.”

 “I took it because I had the worst hangover.”

 “But why would you drink on a work night?” Millie asked.

 “I was hungover from that morning, dumbasses!” Loona said to Moxxie and Millie. “I couldn’t take your assaults. So I decided to blow some fucking steam! I kicked a baby in a carriage and caused some destruction. Felt good afterwards.”

 Blitzo mentioned to Loona. “Look, the point is, Loona is a valued member of our family and you don’t get rid of family.”

 “We aren’t a family, sir!” Moxxie pointed out. “You are the boss! We are the employees! You treat her like she’s some troubled teenager! She’s more like a meth-addicted homeless woman you let man the phone!”

 Loona flipped him the bird.

 “That is offensive!” said Blitzo, walking to the window, pulling open the blinds. “Without homeless people, I wouldn’t have half the joy and laughter I do in this life!”

  Outside, a homeless imp with a broken horn and ragged grey clothing held up a sign that read “Monee helps. Satan Bless.” An imp woman with black clothing and little bat wings blushed at Blitzo who waved and did a playful raise of eyebrows before closing the blinds.

 Moxxie crossed his arms. “While we’re on the subject of “family,” can you stop finding me and Millie outside of work?”

 “Come on, sweetie, it’s not that big a deal!” Millie said.

 Moxxie’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me, what?! I asked you, ‘Honey, can you get the butter?’ You said, ‘sure sweetie’.”

 “Spoiler alert, the butter’s spoiled!” Blitzo added. Millie giggled.

  “He was in our fucking fridge! He was spying on me while I was asleep. And worse, he fucking filmed me and you while we were singing and about to kiss!”

 Blitzo giggled. “I still have it on camera.”

 “It’s fine, honey,” Millie replied to Moxxie, patting his shoulder. “The “spoiler alert, butter’s spoiled!” was a funny use of wordplay Blitzo used.”

 “Why was he in our fridge anyway?” Moxxie countered. “And then I was dreaming that my parents were being murdered and Blitzo interrupted it. I wanted to get back to that.”

 “I was just curious,” Blitzo responded.

 “Just. Stop. Doing. That,” Moxxie growled.

 “I don’t see what the issue is!” said Blitzo. “Is there something you don’t want me seeing?” A mischievous silly look crossed his face.

 “No!” Moxxie spat, eye twitching.

 “You a baby weiner havor?” Blitzo asked, another term for a small dick.

 Loona giggled under her breath.

Moxxie was fed up. “Sir, what you say and how you act is totally inappropriate!”

 Millie pulled him down gently. “Calm down, Mox, you’re gonna have another panic attack!”

 “I am calm!” he yelled.

 Millie rubbed his head and soothed him. “Shh, there, there.” Moxxie whimpered.

 Blitzo spoke again with a childish grin, making a hole with two fingers and tapping the opening with one finger. “Look, I don’t judge the boring couple stuff you do outside of work hours, so don’t judge me.”

 Veins popped out of Moxxie’s yellow eyes. “Oh I do judge you, sir. Quite a lot, actually.” He crossed his arms as Millie gasped in horror.

 “Mox, he’s our boss!”

 “No, no, no, it’s fine, Mills,” said Blitzo with a wave of his hand. “Your husband is just…how do I say this without being offensive…retarded.”

 “Does immaturingly insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single, life?”

 Blitzo leaned in toward Moxxie. “It actually does.”

 Loona appeared to agree, because she added to Moxxie, “The only reason you have a wife is because you’re easy to manage!”

 Moxxie gasped. She had called Moxxie submissive.

 “No he’s not, you bitch!” Millie yelled, holding up two middle fingers.

 “Do not talk to my assistant that way!” Blitzo demanded. “She’s sensitive!”

 “Yes I am!” Loona barked.

 Then a squeaky voice sounded from nearby: “You guys are all fucking assholes.”

 Everyone turned and stared at a boy wearing an orange shirt with a planet on it. He had brown hair, a blue baseball cap on and was connected to a monitor.

 Blitzo pointed at him. “Oh shut up, kid, you’re lucky to witness this.”

 Moxxie pinched his nose and sighed in frustration. “Ugh, this company is such a mess!”

 “Did someone call me?” Niffty’s voice rang from the hallway. She opened the door a crack. “I can clean up any messes you may have!”

 “No!” Moxxie called. “Go away!”

 Niffty slowly closed the door.

 An awkward silence…

 “Alright, let’s get back to talking about my outfit!” Blitzo said out of nowhere.

 “Nobody was talking about that,” Loona mentioned.

 “Which is why I’m trying to get that ball rolling. So how does it look? It’s good, right?”

 The kid pointed his finger at Blitzo. He ripped off the wires from his stomach.

 “It’s been a literal hell pretending to be paralyzed so you fuckshits wouldn’t kill me, but now? I want that. I want death. You!” he pointed to Blitzo. “You are a selfish, greedy clown. And I’m a kid! We’re supposed to like clowns…even the creepy ones!”

 Moxxie scoffed. “Hey now, that’s not very…”

 The kid cut him off. “If I wanted to hear from a spineless jackass, I’d rip out your spine and ask you some shit.”

 Moxxie shivered in fear.

 “That’s my husband you’re talking to!” Millie yelled.

 The kid snickered. “That’s your husband?! I figured you for a slut, but I didn’t know you needed dick that bad!”  

 Millie fumed at her husband being called ugly and weak. To think that she would have sex with anyone else at random…

 “And you!” The kid pointed at Loona.

 “What? What about me?” Loona asked.

 The kid crossed his arms. “Nothing. I don’t talk to dogs. I’m a cat person.”

 Loona whined.

 “Wow,” said Blitzo. “You know, kid, you kind of are a piece of shit.”

 “Yeah, after all, he’s kind of a piece of shit,” Moxxie muttered.

 A ding came from Loona’s phone. She smiled. “Oh fuck! Guys, I just got a text from our client. Guess he was the right target after all.”

 “Who?” Blitzo asked.

 “Him.”

 “Me?” asked the kid.

 “Yep,” she confirmed.

 “They wanted us to kill an actual child?” Blitzo asked.

 “That’s what they’re sayin’,” Loona said.

 Blitzo grinned and twirled a gun in his hand. His job just got more fun and easier. “Well Christ on a stick, I guess there is a god!” He fired and shot the boy in the chest. He flopped down dead in a pool of blood, smoke and sparks lingering in the air.

 Blitzo spoke about I.M.P.: “You know folks, with this company, I really wanted to prove that we’re capable of doing the same things anyone else can! Like killing people! So, from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money… is gone and you’re never getting it back and you can write us a bad review, but we’ll play dumb to it because it’s Hell and no one fucking cares.”

 Blitzo, Moxxie and Millie kicked the dead kid on the floor, enjoying themselves. Loona snapped a picture with her phone and recorded the scene. After the imps left with the body, Niffty came in and gasped.

 “Well, time to clean this up. What a mess!” She hummed a happy tune as she mopped up the blood at rapid speed.

 Blitzo and Moxxie wore gas masks and green suits as Blitzo sawed off the boy’s arm and Moxxie sawed his chest, organs spilling out into a sack below. Millie tossed an arm into the sack and Loona helped hold open the sack. Moxxie dropped the boy’s severed head inside and shared a loving smile with his wife.

 Etched in red graffiti on a dumpster behind them were the words “Devil,” “Hell,” “Happy Hotel,” and “I’m always chasing rainbows.” A pentagram, and wide smiles were also doodled on the surface.

 Blitzo embraced the entire group in a forceful hug, knocking the phone from Loona’s hands.

 “You know, even though this kid was a target, he’s still a child. It’s important that we’ve handled this going forward, respectfully.” He wrapped his long tail around the group, all of them smiling genuinely. For despite all their problems, they were still a company family.

 Back in the human world, a crying blonde mother wearing a pink shirt and a necklace held up a paper saying “missing boy.” Below in large letters read on the news: “Mom sucks at drawing own kid!” Words say “There is a missing boy!’ and “Yet another missing kid!”

 The mother spoke into the microphone, “Please! If anyone has seen my little Eddie, please contact us at…”

 She gasped as a sack dropped into her hands. She and the news reporter looked up to see a smiling Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie through a portal up above.

 “You’re welcome!” Blitzo called with a wave before the portal closed.

 The mother looked inside the bag and screamed. “My son! He’s dead! Noooo!”

Part One: Mrs. Mayberry

Once upon a time, there was an innocent lovely blonde teacher named Mrs. Mayberry who taught at a typical schoolhouse. She was born many years ago on July 24th.

 She taught at a red schoolhouse with a little golden bell at the top of it. “Learning is fun,” was written in bright yellow letters on the side of the building with art of colorful kites and a rainbow on it. A sign at the front read “Puppies Junior School” in sunlight. There were tall green trees and a playground off to the side. The golden bell rang for the start of the day. A blue jay and a cardinal sang from a tree branch as the teacher opened the white curtains.

 The Vivziepop lookalike woman wrote “Good morning!” in white chalk on the green blackboard.

  “Good morning!” She twirled in a dance, catching her piece of chalk. She wore a white shirt with colorful red cherries and a long blue-gray skirt. A green pendant rested on her shirt. She wore cherry earrings and round yellow glasses. Her blonde hair was tied back in a flower-like shape behind her. “Have a bright and sunny day” was written on a poster with a large smiling sun with big eyes on it. Nearby was a calendar and an old boxy computer on a desk. A white daisy was in a flower pot. “The word of the day is harmony,” was written on a schedule posted on a board behind the children sitting at desks. The orange curtains by the windows had white math symbols on it. The schedule read “math, history, reading, grammar, science, art and music” as the many school subjects for the days of the week.

 “I hope you all did your homework!” she trilled.

  The children nodded with a dance to their bodies. One boy wearing an orange shirt spun around in a stool wearing a dunce cap and he faced the wall. The class broke out randomly into song.

 “We love to do our homework and we love our teacher too!”

 The teacher sang, “And when I throw out these fun questions, you should know just what to do.”

 “Okay!” they cheered, arms in the air.

 She wrote on the board 2 + 6 = 8 and added,

“Two plus six is…”

 “Eight!” the class answered.

 “And good behavior’s…”

 “Great!” they chimed in.

 “And now it’s that part of the class when we say the time of day and date.”

 “It’s nine in the morning,” sang a blonde boy…

 “On January 8th…” added a black girl.

 “The sun is out smiling,” said a brown haired girl with a bow.

 “And it’s your husband’s birthday!” reminded the dunce boy with his tongue out.

 As the class sang “la la la,” the teacher found herself scrapping her chalk down in a line on the board. Sweat coated her forehead as the chalk was almost completely broken down. The singing was a constant drone in her head. Her right eye twitched and she turned around.

 “Oh my stars, stop singing children! Hush up now!”

 The class fell silent.

 She put a hand to her forehead. “I forgot it’s my husband’s birthday! I didn’t get him anything special.”

 The brown haired girl stood up and said, “Maybe if we call him, we could do a happy birthday surprise!”

 The teacher and kids gathered around the boxy computer. At the husband’s house, a lone sock fell on the call screen that read “wifey” on it.

 The screen turned on, and everyone gasped in disbelief.

 The teacher’s husband was in the process of having sex with another lady!

 A tie, a bra and a condom flew against the screen as they straddled naked in their bed.

 “We won’t be needing this,” a voice said as the condom hit the screen with Mrs. Mayberry’s face on the other side.

The teacher sat at her desk, looking stunned, her face turning red. The other woman was so young and beautiful. There was her husband, clad naked and showing off his muscles and parts to her.

 “Oh yeah,” the husband giggled, “Not there, not there.” They seemed to be also playing with sex toys.

 With a blank shadowed look on her face, the teacher suddenly stood up and walked away. If she wasn’t going to be able to divorce that cheating bastard…

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry!” called the brown haired girl. She took hold of the teacher’s hand. “Remember what you taught us…think before you act.”

 Dark thoughts suddenly festered within the woman and she gripped the girl’s neck before tossing her up in the air through the roof. She stomped out of the room and shut the door. The children ran to the window to watch as she got in her old green car and plowed through a white picket fence. “I love school” was on her license plate. The children rushed to the computer.

 The door to the bedroom was quickly pulled open.

 “Oh shit, sweetie!” said her husband, caught in the act of fucking the young lady on their master bed. “What are you doing here?”

 “Shut up, Jarold!” A newfound rage flared in her eyes. A deadly looking riffle was in her hands. She fired several shots.

 The blonde lady shrieked as Mrs. Mayberry moved closer.

 “You scream like a fish!” the teacher mentioned to the blonde haired lady.

 With a demonic yell, she brutally shot the younger woman across multiple areas of her body. Thick blood splattered everywhere.

 Her husband gasped. “Oh god, what have you done?! She had a family!”

 “We could’ve had a family!” the teacher sobbed, in a flood of despair and rage. She picked up a bullet and shot her husband square in the head. He collapsed to the floor, dead.

 “Oh god, what have I done?” she asked, frazzled, whipping away the blood from the screen. She saw her children stare in horror and disgust. “In front you all.” She broke down into tears, seeing her dead husband in a pool of blood.  She spoke her last words through sobs. “I’m so sorry my children. Don’t forget to work on your timestamps.”

 Mrs. Mayberry knew there was nothing left for her but jail time and grief. There was only one other option. With shaking hands, she shot herself in the chest with a yelp. The children fainted on the floor one by one at the traumatizing sight. The policeman took the wailing blonde lady to the hospital…and found Mrs. Mayberry’s body lying next to her husband’s on the blood-stained floor.

 The blonde lady Martha stared lovingly with a brown uncovered eye at her new muscular husband Ralphie wearing an orange plaid shirt. He had brown hair and an athlete/superhero build. Their two children stood by her bedside as she recovered. The room had bouquets of colorful flowers in every corner. Camera flashed as news reporters talked to her.

 “How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?” a newswoman asked.

 “I just hope that sick woman finally found peace,” Martha drawled in her hospital bed.

 Her husband comforted her, head lowered.

 “You are so brave,” the reporter commended to Martha. “Here’s $2 million dollars!”

 The woman’s face lit up as she was handed a large golden check. “Oh thank you!” She smiled at the cameras with her husband like she was a movie star.

 The stereotypical America family lived in a house near the woods and by a lake. Martha dressed like a housewife with a long polka dot skirt. Her daughter had brown pigtails, a lavender shirt with a tie, and a red skirt, with boots. The younger boy had a beaver-skin cap, a white shirt, brown pants and camouflage boots. On the outside, they were the perfect typical family.

 “You’re a hero,” said more news people as she stood elegantly at a VNN (Vivienne News Network) podium.

 “You’re a hero, girl,” admired a brown skinned jogger with short blonde passing Martha by. Martha basked in the attention and wealth. Who knew that getting shot at would change her life for the better.

 “My mama’s a hero!” declared the son.

 “She is a hero!” The brown haired casher agreed down to him as the family went grocery shopping.

 “Ooooh…You’re a hero!” moaned her husband as he thrust his penis wildly in and out of her as they made love in their bedroom. Their walls were covered with pelvises and newspaper clippings of Martha under “local hero” headings.

 “You’re a hero,” smiled an old praying priest who stood by her at one church meeting.

 Even worse for Mayberry, a new class of children cheered, “You’re a hero!” to Martha when she taught a “How to deal with trauma 101 class.”

 “Oh you’re a hero!” another man groaned as he wildly gave her anal.

  Mrs. Mayberry woke up staring at a crimson red sky. Her form had completely changed… Mrs. Mayberry was now a purple demon with stripped curved horns on her head, wearing rectangular glasses. She wore a pale red shirt with x stitches on it, along with an eye where her pendant was. Her hair was long and white and pulled back with a black bandana. She wore a dark skirt with an upside down cross on it and heels. She also had sharp yellow teeth.

 After finding a place to live and shying out of sight from shady strangers, Mrs. Mayberry had the chance to continue her career where she left off. So she did. It took some learning and adaptation to Hell’s culture but fortunately...it was pretty simple.

 Mrs. Mayberry was soon hired at “Pentagram Penitentiary Place,” one of the top public schools in the district. It was a large school for grades K-12. The name of the school was in black letters surrounded by a red downward facing pentagram over the black front doors. “All grades in one place!” read the slogan. The building was of red-orange brick with three rows of low cracked windows facing the front. The outdoor playground consisted of rusted basketball hoops, a jungle gym, dark asphalt and a swing set that made squeaky sounds every time it was used. The slide was high up and made of metal, so that it was always painfully hot for the young demon children to slide down. A barbed wire fence with swirls of wire at the top surrounded the prison-like school.

 A bunch of middle schoolers were bouncing a demon skull around and tossing it into the basketball hoops. Little preschooler demons rough-housed on the grass-less ground, laughing. One small green dragon kept making burping sounds, emitting orange sparks much to the delight of his peers.  A dinosaur used his tail for a black eyed doll girl to use as a jump rope. There was even a little scary-go round that furry bird-like kids went on to test their flying and spin out of control in the air. One white bird crashed against the fence and slid down with a flop.

 “Loser!” taunted a bulky blue cyclops kid wearing a baseball cap. He spat on the bird’s upside-down head and laughed with his goons. An older demon with a rhino’s horn was spray-painting teal blue penises on the walls.

 “Watch your back!” he called out to a centaur who fired an arrow from a bow, startled. The green lizard demon tied to the target glanced down at the arrow that had almost gotten him in the crotch. He sighed with relief, only to have an ax lodged into his head, thrown by an orange goat teenager.

 Nearby were two purple demons with silvery snake hair sitting on a concrete window ledge, wearing blouses, sequined navy skirts and shoes. They were listening to music from their Eye-Pods. One of them was painting her nails and the other took a drag from an e-cigarette. Every kid had a multiple digit number temporarily tattooed on their necks. An E, an M and an H were before the numbers, for elementary, middle and high school. The following number indicated their grade and the last two numbers were their position in alphabetical order. K or a P next to the E stood for kindergarten and preschool.

 A loud buzzer rang at the top of the roof, signaling class starting. The children were lined up in front of their respective teachers. Mrs. Mayberry stood in front of her line of preschool demons.

 After singing a song about a demonic turtle drowning in a bathtub with the class, she counted each child as they made their way to homeroom. They all filled in and sat at their wooden desks. The demonic alphabet was listed on a nearby poster with translations into English and other languages.

 “Good morning!” Mrs. Mayberry trilled in the windowless classroom, scrapping her chalk against the blackboard before catching it with a twirl. “I hope you all did your homework.”

 The kids fearfully nodded.

 “Hmm, I don’t think you did, EP-04,” she scolded a demon boy wearing an orange shirt with no paper in front of him. “Go sit in time-out.”

 The boy groaned and sat on a stool facing the wall. The white dunce cap burned on his head.

 “The pledge of allegiance,” Mrs. Mayberry led. The class stood up with their hands on their hearts.

 “I pledge allegiance and my soul to the banner

Of His Majesty Lucifer and Her Majesty Lilith

And to the unholy Inferno

For Pentagram City

One nation under Satan

Indivisible

With liberty and chaos for all!”

 They sat back down.

 “Now let’s sing,” Mrs. Mayberry ordered.

 The demonic class broke out into song:

 “We love to do our homework and learn stuff every day.”

 “And when I throw in these hard questions, you should know just what to say,” Mrs. Mayberry sang.

 “Okay!” they cheered.

 She wrote an equation on the board. “Divide this number by…”

 “Zero!”

 “Our favorite paint is…”

 “Bloody red!”

 “And when there’s a stranger danger…”

 “You stab them in the head!” they answered, making stabbing motions with their arms.

 “A poison for a deep sleep?” she asked

 “Wormwood! Does no good!”

 “The geological components of Hell?”

 “Fire and brimstone!” added a girl.

 “If you can’t use love…”

 “Use hate!”

 “Now it’s time for us to say the day and date.”

 “Your death day was on January 8th, right?” piped up a boy in the back.

 Mrs. Mayberry stopped short. “Hush up! We don’t mention that date.” She turned to the class. “Go on.”

 “It’s 3 in the afternoon…” said a boy.

 “On October 31st,” said a green girl.

 “Hell’s heat is still hot,” said another girl, sweating.

 “Let’s watch the episode first!” reminded the dunce boy.

 The demons went “la la la” as Mrs. Mayberry stared at the board, red eyes wide.

 “Oh my suns! Stop singing children. Shut up!”

 The demons fell silent.

 “I forgot it’s the new episode! I’m supposed to be off to pursue my revenge!”

 “Maybe you could scare your enemies at a death-day party!” a girl suggested with her hands up in the air.

 Mrs. Mayberry looked at her hell-phone and saw the last seconds of an I.M.P. commercial. She stood up to walk away.

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry,” said a girl, taking hold of her hand. “Remember what you taught us. Act before you think.”

 Mrs. Mayberry pat her head. “I think not. Work on your timestamps and assignments, children. I’m off to pursue a little education of my own.”

 A horn-covered sub man walked in and bellowed, “200 pushups on the double! Or it’s back to your cells!”

 The demons got up from their seats and bent down to do the pushups.

 Mrs. Mayberry called a taxi outside and it drove her off.

 Up on a screen outside her window, Mrs. Mayberry saw a full commercial where she learned of an assassination company called I.M.P.

 “Hi there, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the funder of I.M.P.! Are you a piece of shit that got sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul who just so happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

 The next shot showed a bulky red demon with horns, wearing a white Ohio shirt/jersey. A sign read, “Some guy who hired us!” The demon spoke:

 “After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you could imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the State of Ohio killed me.” He rammed his meaty fists. “I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!”

 “Guess I’m not the only one who murdered my spouse,” she thought. “I’ve also never seen a guy with…such muscles before…”

 Blitzo appeared again. “Well luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…we promise to take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who may have screwed you over when you were alive!”

 The sounds of the imp jingle motivated Mrs. Mayberry as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the I.M.P. building. She got out, climbed up the stairs and knocked on the office door. It opened and out popped Blitzo.

 “Is this I.M.P.?” she asked.

 “Yes,” Blitzo said.

 “I figured, since I saw the commercial. I have one bad bitch that needs to be killed. And I’ve got a lot to say.”

 “Well, come on in then,” he said.

 Mrs. Mayberry paced Blitzo’s office at I.M.P. headquarters as she told her story.

  “I was a good person before it all went down,” she narrated, pacing to and fro. “I was good my entire life.”

 She continued on, adding details about her personal life. She held a cigarette in her hand. Apparently, it was easy to get into unhealthy habits in Hell.

 “You do everything right in life, play by the rules, and still get sent down here with all the Hitlers and Epsteins of the world. After one measly massacre propelled by blind rage. So that’s why I’m here. To get my revenge.”

 “I mean was she hotter?” Blitzo remarked with a smirk.

 The demon’s eyes flared red in anger, her face partially in shadow by the drawn blinds. A lemon tree was in the background with a sign that read “no whores” beside it. Blitzo casually lounged in his office chair.

 “I’m just saying I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits,” Blitzo chuckled.

 Mayberry growled and her body briefly glowed red. Her cigarette bent in her hand.

 Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Anyway I don’t think you quite understand how we’re operating down here.” He stood up and Mrs. Mayberry glared at him. “You see we take revenge on the living and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of a death frankly are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop.”

 He bonked her on the nose.

 Mayberry’s pointed tail twitched, her purple claws clenched. Her skirt was torn with holes and her feet were cloven hooves. This imp guy was worse than the demonic children she taught.

 Mayberry extended her left claws. “Not all of them. That whore survived. Now they all call her a hero.”

 She continued. “Between the talk shows and bullshit donations she made so much goddamn cash. Getting shot was the best thing to happen to her.”

 Mayberry bashed her fists into the ground, creating cracks. “She’s not a hero!” Mayberry yelled, getting in close to Blitzo’s face.

 “Yeah, okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Blitzo stuttered in a rapid nervous voice. He frantically pressed a red button under the desk multiple times. The red light flashed under the “Deranged Client” label on a dashboard. The other labels read, “More Coffee,” “Soiled My Pants,” “Horny Client,” “Client Giving Birth,” “Ghost,” and “Stolas.”

 Blitzo later burst through the door, followed by Mrs. Mayberry. “Guys, I’d like you to meet, our newest client!”

 The room suddenly burst into flames…Blitzo was furious. He quickly led Mrs. Mayberry outside where she hopped into a taxi to wait back home.

 “Bye and don’t worry,” called Blitzo to her, “We’ll get that skank in less than 24 hours or your first kill is free!”

 She could only hope that crazy imp and his team could do their job.

 As it turned out, Mrs. Mayberry later found out that not only had I.M.P. killed Martha, they also killed her crazy Satanic family. Mrs. Mayberry was very impressed. She held a piece of cake and laughed with the I.M.P. members for a special celebration. Millie talked about how it was okay to kill someone if they tried to kill you back.

 “That’s messed up,” mentioned Mrs. Mayberry. Then she smiled. “But I paid for it!”

 Everyone laughed again. Mrs. Mayberry felt good among her new allies. She had embraced her past at last.

 After the celebration, she got back into the taxi but instead of heading home, she headed further into town.

 There was a red Ohio demon for her to thank.

 Part Two: The Imps’ Adventure

In another room, Moxxie was holding a black and red crossbow in his hands. In front of him was a picture of a smiling family: a father, a mother, a baby and two children. His arms were shaking as the reflector hovered around the man’s crotch area.

 “Moxxie, stop shaking!” Millie chided. “You’re gonna shoot our only hellhound!”

 Loona lay on her back on a gray couch. The family picture was in one hand and her phone was in the other. On the wall were drawings of Blitzo as a horse and a drawing of Robo Fizz with an arrow sticking out from it.

 Loona spoke in a sarcastic tone, “Wow. I feel so loved here.”

 “Just take a deep breath,” Millie told Moxxie, inhaling, “and let it out.”

 “But, it’s a family,” Moxxie argued. “Under what circumstances would we ever need to kill a human family?”

 “I mean if that’s what the client wants,” Millie began.

 “Maybe like a shitty dad,” Moxxie suggested. “Or a mob family.” He spoke through his teeth, “That’s understandable.” He then spoke normally. “But to eradicate an entire innocent, seemingly innocent, upper middle class family bloodline?”

 Loona stared at the picture for a moment before pointing to Moxxie.

 “Hey! You don’t know their innocent.”

 She pointed to the boy. “This kid probably sets dogs on fire.”

 She pointed to the girl. “Maybe this girl gets off to bullying Australian kids online.”

 She pointed to the father. “And this guy…” She narrowed her eyes and spoke lower. “This guy definitely watches.”

 “Exactly!” Millie agreed. “Humans are full of secret nasties. It’s why so many of them end up here. But guilty and innocent aren’t our business, Mox.” She cupped his cheeks. “Killing who we’re paid to is our business. Choose a target.”

 She kissed him before stepping aside. Moxxie positioned his crossbow again.

 “I just think it’s a bit excessive and we could be a bit more selective, is all.”

 Just then, Blitzo barged into the room, followed by Mrs. Mayberry.

 “Guys! I want you to meet…”

 Startled, Moxxie fired the arrow and it ricocheted around the room. Millie jumped into Moxxie’s arms as the arrow hit a computer. It then flew and poked a hole in the family picture that a startled Loona held. The arrow made impact with the bottom of an eel tank, causing it to wobble dangerously. The arrow speed toward Mrs. Mayberry but Blitzo calmly caught it in one hand.

 “…our newest client!”

 The eel tank suddenly fell down, glass and water pouring onto the floor. The eels burst with electricity, casing the room to erupt in flames. Loona, Moxxie and Millie cowered in fear.

 “Dammit, Moxxie! I just bought those eels!” Blitzo yelled in anger.

 Soon, imp firefighters rushed to the scene to put out the flames as the group waited outside. The firefighters also carried the eels away to their red fire truck. Although imps were immune to fire, the buildings were not.

 Mrs. Mayberry climbed into a taxi cab.

 “Bye,” Blitzo waved, “and don’t worry, we’ll get that skank in less than twenty four hours or your first kill is free!” He waved as the taxi drove away.

 “When did we start implementing that deal?” Moxxie asked.

 Blitzo turned to glare at him. He pulled him close, holding his face.

 “When you set fire to my office in front of a…” Blitzo screamed, “client, you fucking dipshit!" He shoved Moxxie out of the way in anger. “Now someone please tell me that fancy book is still intact!”

 Loona stood against the wall, typing on her phone. “You mean our only ticket to the other side?” She pulled out a blue book from behind her. “Yeah, got it.”

 Blitzo came over to her and started to baby talk to her. “And that’s why you’re my favorite, Loony. You get a treat now.”

 He held up a dog treat in his hands, tossed it in the air and caught it with his long tongue.

 “Ew, stop it,” Loona said with disgust. Blitzo pulled the biscuit into his mouth and chewed.

 “You’re so gross!” she remarked.

  A nearby billboard with Blitzo’s face on it read with misspellings: “Goat an asshole in the living worlds!? Come to I Am Pee!!??! Make sure you put this sign up on the rite side. Don’t fuck this up. Also payment may take a couple of weeks because it cums in the mail. –Speech to text- -Blitzo”

 Millie drew a pentagram with chalk onto the wall. The pentagram glowed red and a portal to the human world appeared.

 “Aw stop it, I get enough of that from my therapist,” Blitzo told Loona before she left. He mentioned to the other imps, and moved his fist in front of him. Now let’s go lick some ass!” He pressed his hand into Moxxie’s face.

 “The expression is “kick some ass.” Blitzo,” Millie mentioned before she stepped through the portal. Blitzo let go of Moxxie’ face.

 “Mine’s better,” Blitzo said before following her.

 “Aw, fuck,” Moxxie sighed as he followed them through the portal.

 All three imps stood in front of a small red house by the lake as the sun set. Blitzo and Moxxie leaned against the side of the house, rising from the bushes. Blitzo stood up and peered into a window. A row of white flowers were on a planter on the ledge.

 “That’s gotta be her,” Blitzo whispered. He then chuckled darkly. “This is too easy.” He looked over at Moxxie. “Moxxie, do you want this one?”

 Moxxie looked stunned and smiled nervously. “Me?”

 “Yeah, this one’s simple enough for you to handle. It’s just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital.”

 Moxxie stood up and looked through the window. His face fell as he looked at the happy family enjoying dinner. A pig’s head was at the center of the table. The house was decorated with axes and guns on the walls. A lamp stand seemed to be made out of a spinal column. Ralphie and Martha affectionately rubbed each other’s noses, Martha holding a dinner platter in her hand. Moxxie hesitated; there was no way he could kill any one of them.

 “You snooze you lose, Mox!” Blitzo called out.

 He got out his gun, which was black with flames painted on it. The reflector was an upside down cross and it hovered over Martha’s face. She smiled with large doe eyes and blinked innocently.

 “And I’ve got you, bitch,” Blitzo murmured.

 “Wait, are we actually killing a family?!” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

 “No, don’t be a puss, we’re just killing a mother,” Blitzo remarked. “We��re running a family.” He grinned and clicked his rifle, positioning it.

 “But…” Moxxie began. “Hold on, hold on, let’s just think about it…”

 Moxxie lifted up the rifle just before Blitzo fired. The bullet hit a glass mirror in the house, causing the family members to gasp in fear.

 “What was that, Ralphie?” Martha asked her husband, who sat at the table.

 Ralphie shook his head. “I don’t know Martha, but whatever it is…”

 He stood up with a sharp-toothed grin, holding a rifle in his hands.

 “They’re gonna be tomorrow night’s dinner!”

 Martha set the platter down on the table, downed a glass of wine and smashed the glass on the floor.

 “Alright, kids! Gun’s out!” She called with an evil grin. The kids, too, grinned evilly as they pulled out smaller guns. The boy pulled out his from his brown beaver-skin hat.

 “Looks like we’ve got some rabbits to catch, youngins!” Ralphie said with an evil chuckle.

 Back outside, Blitzo was fuming. “What the fuck was that, Moxxie?”

 Moxxie breathed anxiously before letting out a croak, his snake-like tongue flickering. He fell to his knees, hands over his face.

 “I’m sorry. They just seemed so wholesome and happy.” Tears fell from his eyes. “I panicked.”

 Blitzo face-palmed. “Oh who the fuck is innocent, Moxxie? From the moment of birth, you’re already a parasite leeching off your momma’s tits.”

 He grabbed his chest in an imitation of holding breasts. He leaned in and poked Moxxie painfully on the head. “Now get the fuck over yourself you baby dick prick!”

 A bullet fired through the wall and shot Blitzo in the arm. He cried out as black blood splattered.

 “A new hole!” Blitzo cried in terror. “Scatter!”

 Blitzo and Millie leapt into the air just as another gunshot created a larger hole in the wall. A grinning Martha and Ralphie leapt through the hole and chased after them, guns drawn. Moxxie peered out from behind the bush, rapidly looking around. A child’s hand grabbed Moxxie’s pointed tail and he yelped. He only saw a barrage of fists from the children before passing out.

 Millie flipped backwards along a cobblestone trail before diving into the lake.

 “There you go, little critter!” Ralphie called, firing another bullet. He stepped onto the wooden dock. “Y’all can’t hide long from me!”

 Millie had her head above the water under the dock, a knife in her mouth. She broke through the dock with a crash before landing with a grin, knife at the ready. Ralphie swing a beer bottle at her, but she moved behind him out of the way. Millie jumped up in the air, knife in both hands. Ralphie swung the bottle upwards, hitting her in the head. The glass shattered and she fell to the ground with a loud yelp. Millie struggled weakly to stand, but collapsed onto the dock, eye twitching. Ralphie grinned down at her as the sky spiraled red. He picked her up and headed deep into the woods.

 Moxxie opened his eyes and gasped with a squeak to find his hands and body tied with rope. He appeared to be tied to a stitched up headless dead body sitting on a chair. Moxxie’s face fell in fear as he stared at the boy and girl in front of him. Both their eyes were red and devious grins formed on their faces.

 Moxxie tried to defuse the fear. “Oh. Hello there little ones. Aren’t you cute?”

 The children spoke in low distorted voices, the boy finishing shortly after the girl.

 “It’s nice to have a new critter to play with.”

 Moxxie glanced up in terror at a red spotlight above him. The light revealed a human head high up and several limbs on plaques. The wooden walls were stained with red blood. Tow plaques held stitched up faces of skin. A larger plaque displayed a dead man with long white hair, arms crossed, eyes and teeth bulging out. His upper chest was connected to the plaque. A picture frame made of bones displayed another face made of skin inside it. Human skin was tacked to the wall with “bless this mess” stitched onto it. Moxxie looked and saw a dead human body on a platter, an apple in its mouth. Organs were displayed in a nearby bowl.

 Moxxie took one look at the dead body and whimpered. “Aw. Crumbs.”

 Meanwhile, Blitzo was running for his life in the woods. Four gunshots rang out as Blitzo darted through a bush, leaves falling to the ground. Martha’s evil echoing laughter quickened his pace. The imp slide down a grass hill, landing on his feet. He crouched under the bushes, looking around. He panted, catching his breath.

 “I know you’re hurtin’, little devil,” drawled Martha in a sing-song voice.

 Blitzo darted behind a tree, taking in deep silent breaths. His back was pressed against the bark. He covered his mouth, not daring to move.

 “I promise that I can make that pain go real quick.”

 Martha walked through the woods, not too far away, in shadow. “Just come let Mama Martha put a bullet in that pretty little skull!”

 Blitzo sighed in relief after hearing the footsteps fade.

 Ring! Ring! Ahh!

 A startled Blitzo scrambled to retrieve his yellow cell-phone, which was ringing a yelling ringtone. He eventually caught the phone before pressing it to his ear. The phone had a GFY (Go Fuck Yourself) on it and a laughing devil emoji with imp horns.

 “This is a really bad time,” Blitzo whispered.

 At Stolas’ palace, the owl prince was currently lounging in an ornate bathtub, several lit candles with blue flames positioned around the edges. Astrological symbols glowed white in a circle on the floor. The midnight blue curtains looked like the night sky, with starry designs on them. Floating constellations hovered around the room. He was the prince of astronomy as well as being horny.

 “When isn’t it a bad time, Blitzy?” he mused, stretching his long slender arm. He held a rotary phone to his ear, the speakers shaped like sunflowers.

 Blitzo sighed in frustration. “What is it?”

 Stolas’ four red eyes blinked. “I’ve been meaning to follow up on our last conversation regarding my grimoire?”

 Blitzo’s angry face appeared in a bubble.

 “What did you just call me?” Blitzo asked. Stolas popped the bubble with a finger. “My book, Blitzy. The book I was given to do my job that I have allowed you to use to do yours?”

 Blitzo ducked as a bullet flew through the tree he was behind. Martha’s shadowy figure appeared in the hole, her eyes and mouth glowing red.

 “I can hear ya, darling!” she called out.

 “Shit,” Blitzo muttered, scurrying off.

 “Anywho,” Stolas continued. “I have been thinking. You know, I have been permitting you to access the mortal realm less than legally for quite some time now, but I do need it back to fulfil my duties. I was thinking, what if we worked out some sort of exchange?”

 He ran a finger along the edge of the tub. He then did a walking motion with his fingers as they glowed red.

 “Favors for favors? Doesn’t that sound…” He spoke seductively, “…enticing?”

 Blitzo skidded to a stop as another bullet hit a tree. He ducked behind another one and frantically whispered, “You gotta stop using your fancy-ass rich people talk, okay? I’m trying to concentrate on not getting fucked in my hay!”

 Bam!

 Another bullet hit a spot on the tree.

 “Then let me keep it simple,” Stolas explained. “Once a month, on the full moon, you return the book to me, followed by a night of…”

 His eyes glowed red, his beak open in lust…

 “…passionate fornication.” He briefly slid lower in the tub with a blush before rising up to lean against the tub.

 “And…you get to keep it the rest of the time. Sound fair my little imp?”

 “Fine, whatever!” Blitzo replied.

 Blitzo let out a happy sigh. “Oh Blitzy! I’m so excited! I cannot wait to fill your slimy **** inside of my *****…”

 Blitzo cringed as Blitzo went on about the sexual things he planned to do to him.

 Out of nowhere, Blitzo found himself being pinned against the tree by the bottom handle of Martha’s gun.

 “Got ya!” she grinned. Bltzo’s phone was on the ground, Stolas still talking.

 “So, you’re a little devil, huh?” she asked, a wide grin. “Come to drag me and my kin to Hell? Well not today, Satan!”

 She pressed the gun further into Blitzo. “Gonna send y’all back where ya came from!”

 She hit Blitzo hard and he slumped to the ground. She took him and headed off into the woods.

 Back at the house, Moxxie struggled to free his tied up hands and body. In the reflection of the window, he could see the orange yellow lights of fires. He gasped.

 “Millie!”

 The two kids stared deviously at him. He froze when the girl revealed a long sharp knife in her hands. Moxxie glared, determined. As the girl raised the knife, Moxxie shoved her backwards with the chair. There was a thud as the chair toppled over onto the floor. Moxxie grabbed the knife and cut the rope loose, freeing himself. A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign and a hangman’s noose hung from the wall. Moxxie burst through the round window, a shadow silhouette with glowing yellow eyes. Wasting no time, he raced into the woods and toward rows of torches. Hanging from the trees were red Satanic symbols. There were also tents around the area.

 A full moon appeared in the sky from behind thin clouds. Down below, Blitzo and Millie were tied to a stake decorated with black spikes at the top. Ralphie laughed as he poured gasoline onto the ground by their feet. Martha stood nearby, holding a torch in her left hand. Her blouse was torn and low cut, with polka dots on them. Her eyes were red and she wore skull earrings.

 Blitzo groaned in frustration. “I had that fucking shot. God dammit, Moxxie.”

 “Satan!” Martha declared. “We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell!” She raised her torch. “May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!”

 Martha tossed the torch underneath Blitzo and Moxxie, who still struggled to free themselves. Ralphie laughed again. The stake soon lit up in flames…

 …leaving the imps unscathed.

 “Yeah, that’s not exactly how it works, lady,” Blitzo explained. “Sorry, your fire doesn’t really hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that’ll get your dick hard.” He smirked and Millie giggled.

 “Oh. Shit.” Martha stared confused and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have one.”

 Then she got a better idea and grinned. “Well, I’ll just shoot you in your smart-ass mouth!” She held her rifle in her hands.

 “That would be more effective,” Blitzo mentioned.

 “Blitzo!” Millie spat.

 Martha laughed again as she raised the rifle, two barrels pointing at the imps. The imps closed their eyes and flinched.

 A loud bang and a yelp was heard. Martha’s eyeball flew from her socket and she collapsed to the ground.

 “Moxxie!” Millie cried, seeing Moxxie hold a gun in his hands. Moxxie raced over and untied Millie and Blitzo.

 “You’re not getting your goddam paycheck for this one, Mox!” Blitzo mentioned before he fell down. Moxxie and Millie embraced each other with small smiles. They slowly moved their heads against each other in affection. Ralphie tripped over Martha’s body before fleeing the scene.

 “Oh yeah, thanks! I’m fine!” Blitzo spoke out in sarcasm.

 Moxxie helped Blitzo up, supporting him.

 “I’m sorry, sir. I compromised our objective and put us in harm’s way. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

 Blitzo pulled Moxxie into a hug. “Apology accepted.” Then he spoke to Moxxie in a low threatening voice. “But if you ever pull off a stunt like this again, I’ll fuck you and your wife.”

 Just as fast, Blitzo separated from Moxxie and announced, “Alrighty! Job well done! Now let’s get off.” Millie lifted her arms in a cheer. From his chest, Blitzo pulled out a gray horse figure with a back mane like a My Little Pony toy. He put it back and retrieved his cell phone.

 “Eh. Yeah give me a moment. I need to get something I left at the house,” Moxxie said.

 “Okay, fine but hurry up,” Blitzo said. He put his cell phone to his ear and spoke loudly, “Loona! We’re ready to come home, dear!”

 Moxxie raced through the woods, determined to set things right. In the background, Stolas was talking to Blitzo, mentioning, “You and I on…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all night.”

 Back inside the house, the boy and girl were in their father’s arms in a corner.

 “Don’t move!” Moxxie demanded, pointing his rifle at them. The boy and girl looked scared and innocent. The girl even had a dark gray stitched up teddy bear with her.

 Ralphie chucked. “What are you gonna do, little guy? Kill us?”

 “I should!” Moxxie replied, stepping back. “You people are monsters!” Then he lowered the rifle. “But… you should have a chance at a life and a purpose. Look at your children. They have their whole future ahead of them! You are going to face your crimes, justly.”

 He picked up a remote from a stand. “I am calling your earthly authorities and they will make sure you are dealt with, fairly. I am handing this, my way.”

 He pressed a button and a television turned on in the adjacent room. A black and white program played. Moxxie gasped in surprise, then looked down at it.

 “Oh shit,” he muttered. The black remote had pink and white buttons reminiscent of a smiling goofy face.

 “Uh do you…do you have a phone to summon 911?”

 “Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Ralphie mentioned behind him.

 Moxxie held the remote. “Then what’s this for?”

 “It’s a universal remote,” Ralphie replied. “Got it for the kids.” The kids smiled and he pulled them in a hug.

 “Aww,” Moxxie smiled, eyes shining.

 He called the police and hurried back to the portal in the dark woods.

 “There he is,” Blitzo said. “Have a good wank-off session, Moxxie?”

 “Excuse me?”

 Blitzo walked over to him. “Well I don’t care where you cum in the living world, just come to your job on time, alright?” He poked Moxxie several times for emphasis. “See you at the office!” He ran through the portal.

 Millie placed a hand on Moxxie’s cheek. “You doing okay, sweetie?”

 “Better now, honey,” Moxxie replied with a smile. “I think I just needed a minute to process.”

 Millie tenderly touched Moxxie’s chest. “You have a good heart, honey.” She playfully pinched Moxxie’s nose. “Just a fuzzy head.” She kissed him and Moxxie’s heart fluttered. He smiled happily as Millie walked through the portal.

 Moxxie heard the whirl of blades and flashes of light. He turned around. There were police cars and a helicopter in front of the house.

 A voice over a loudspeaker said, “We got em’ boys!”

 A missile fired at the roof and the entire house exploded in a fiery inferno. Something hit Moxxie in the face. He stared at the ground and found the head of the teddy bear that had flown off. He stared with a shocked look of disbelief on his face. The family that had a chance to be better was now dead.

 Blitzo grabbed Moxxie hard by the neck and pulled him through the portal.

 Later on, everyone was laughing and celebrating back at I.M.P. headquarters. They were all wearing birthday party hats. Loona and Mrs. Mayberry held slices of cake on plates. A white banner read “Killed the bitch,” in red letters. A white and blue cake sat in front of Moxxie, the blue icing read “We did it! :)” Everyone seemed joyful except for Moxxie. He still felt awful that they had killed an entire family. An evil family, but still…They had come close to being killed or caught. Now here they were celebrating human death.

 Moxxie wasn’t sure if he agreed to the “senseless killing” morals of I.M.P. anymore.

 Millie squealed for joy and hugged Moxxie tight around the neck. “Did you see my little Mox, Mox? We did it! Oh Moxxie!”

 “Well here’s to another mission accomplished,” Blitzo announced, “…and Moxxie finally learned not to fuck up.”

 Moxxie just stared wordlessly at his plate, dark circles under his eyes.

 “And killing people isn’t that big of a deal if they try to kill you back,” Millie added, rubbing Moxxie’s white head of hair.

 “That’s messed up,” said Mrs. Mayberry, “But I paid for it!”

 Everyone except Moxxie chuckled at that.

 “Yeah, fuck that family!” Blitzo declared, raising a fist.

Helluva Boss Episode Two: Loo-Loo Land

Part One: Octavia

 Hundreds of years ago in Hell…Stolas’ Palace

  Before Octavia Goetia was a 117 year old owl princess (Mentally turned seventeen supposedly August 15 2003), she was a cute little child owl living with her mother and father.

 At night, faint blue constellations illuminated against the exterior of the estate. On the lower jutting wall structure supporting a balcony, Stolas’ sigil symbol also glowed blue in the dark. The balcony itself was spacious and decorated with hanging see-through drapes along the pillars. Spirals and a few eyes were also part of the design above the pillars. Bushes were lined up in rows on an upper row above the balcony, with little rows of coffin-shaped windows behind them in another wall. The borders of the building were decorated with difference phases of the moon in gold. Finally, the double doors on the balcony were stained glass in yellow and orange, with a sun on the left and a crescent moon on the right.

 Inside the estate, three candles cast a dim teal light in the darkened master bedroom. The spacious room had a white tall couch off to the side and a rotary phone on a nearby dresser. Hanging on the wall was a mirror and several large portraits of Stolas dressed in red robes and a crown. Rows of small red banners hung around the top of the bed and four red curtains with gold royal symbols were draped tight around the bed. The bedspread matched the curtains.

 “Mommy! Daddy!”

 A child’s cry from another room roused the owl prince from his slumber. One of his red eyes opened halfway, another one a slit near the top of his dark feathery head. His face was white and heart-shaped. He turned his head to where his wife was sleeping. She was a white owl with long eyebrows that extended past her face. She was curled up in most of the blankets.

 “Via’s calling us, Stella,” Stolas groaned sleepily.

 Stella let out a sigh. “You get up,” she replied tiredly.

 Stolas sighed and rose out of bed, briefly putting his fingers to his head. He opened the door to Octavia’s bedroom. The wallpaper consisted of several columns of moons and stars. Astronomy books lined a shelf while tapped drawings on the wall showed stick figures of Stolas and Octavia, labeled “Daddy,” and “Me.” A nearby portrait showed a smiling Stolas giving an overjoyed Octavia a piggy back ride against a blue background.

 Stolas opened the white door, wearing his red housecoat and a pair of demon face slippers.

 “Dear? What troubles you, my owlet?”

 Octavia’s room was small, with a bookcase and strings of lights hanging around. A white and pink chest and telescope were decorated with stray feathers. Her bed was decorated with small stars and a pink crown on the white headboard, sparkling curtains on either side. A stuffed cat lay on the floor. A lavender blanket with yellow stars on it was currently quivering on the bed. A small frightened face popped out from under the covers: little Octavia. She wore pink jammies with white stars on them. Her face was white and her eyes were large and pink with white pupils. Three gray feathers stuck out from her feathery head and she also had a little tail.

 The little girl sobbed and climbed out of bed.

 “Daddy! Daddy!”

 She ran into her father’s arms.

 “I had a dream! A really bad dream!” Her mouth quivered in a whimper.

 Stolas scooped her up into his arms and yawned.

 “A nightmare.”

 He wiped a tear away from her face.

 Octavia spread out her arms. “I was looking all over the palace and…I couldn’t find you anywhere! You weren’t there!”

 Tears appeared from her eyes and she hugged her father around the neck.

 “There, there, Via. It’s okay; you’re okay.”

 He pat her several times on the back and carried her into the room. A blue grimoire with a golden crescent moon on the cover floated into the room in a purple cloud of magic.

 Stolas sat down on the bed, Octavia in his lap. The book hovered next to him and he waved his hand to turn the pages. Stolas looked at Octavia.

 “When you’re sacred and you don’t know where I am, you must remember: I will never be far away from my special little Starfire.”

 He playfully poked her on the nose and she giggled.

 Stolas waved his hand and magic surrounded it. He moved his hand to the ceiling and created a starry portal above their heads. Octavia looked up with wonder in her eyes. It was then that Stolas started singing his lullaby: “You Will Be Okay.”

 “It always seems more quiet in the dark”

“It always feels so stark”

 Both of them floated upward through the hole. A brilliant indigo night sky filled with stars was revealed. A small bright sun and a distant ringed planet hovered in the distance. Stolas stood on the surface of a large white moon dotted with craters of various sizes.

 “How silence grows under the moon

Constellations gone so soon”

 Stolas’ feet made talon bird tracks on the surface as he carried his daughter.

 “I used to think that I was bold

I used to think love would be fun

Now all my stories have been told

Except for one”

 Stolas looked down at Octavia’s innocent eyes as their faces shone from the pinkish light of the nearby star. Octavia was the ongoing part of his life that Stolas continued to live for, day by day. In all the centuries of his long life, no sexual conquests, no battles nor royal duties could compare with the unique experience of raising a child. In a sea of constellations, Octavia was a guiding light to a greater purpose.

 The ringed planet hovered beside another planet bathed in purple-pink light. A rocky meteor caught on fire and soared toward a molten planet.

 “As the stars start to align

I hope you take it as a sign

That you’ll be okay”

 Stolas sat down on a small rock and held his daughter close.

 “Everything will be okay.”

 The meteor slowly dipped into the molten planet, turning a fiery orange. The meteor broke through the planet, causing it to break into rocky pieces. Stolas and Octavia sat on a floating chunk of rock as light burst upward from between the gaps of the planet debris.

 “And if the Seven rings collapse

Although the day could be my last

You will be okay. When I’m gone you’ll be okay…”

 Octavia yawned and nestled into her father’s feathery chest with a small smile on her sleepy face. Stolas knew that even a powerful demon like himself could not live forever. Angelic weapons could kill both Hell-born and Sinners in Hell. The higher class Hell-born could respawn like the Sinners but unlike the dead previous humans, the Hell-born aged slowly and could die of natural causes like mortals.

 Stolas was a part of a powerful ancient clan of demons, one of the first in Hell. The Ars Goetia brothers in arms were very numerous and powerful…desirable targets for enemies like Valentino and the lot. The family living for so many years didn’t lessen the potential sadness that permanent death would bring.

 Like any good parent, Stolas wanted what was best for his child; to pass down some existential knowledge for her to remember later on.

 “And when creation goes to die

You can find me in the sky”

 Seven planets flew toward the sun, creating powerful impacts. The planets turned ashen black before everything burst into an explosion of light. Stolas’ vocalizing face was illuminated by the large pink smoke from the galactic explosion.

 Tears pooled in Stolas’ eyes as the portal closed behind him, now back in the bedroom. A red and gold metallic model of a solar system hung from the back wall. Stolas lifted the starry blanket and draped it over a sleeping Octavia.

 “Upon the last day

And you will be okay…”

 Stolas walked toward the door, looking at her lovingly again before closing it. Octavia slept peacefully in her bed like a happy chick in a nest.

   Stolas’ palace, Dec 9 2020, present day

 Octavia jolted awake suddenly, her pink eyes angular with constricted white pupils. Her hand rested by her face. Her eyes narrowed in anger, her fist clenched as piercing yelling from another room echoed off the walls.

 Her parents were having yet another fight.

 She got out her phone and texted Loona: “Parents fighting again. Fuck my life.”

 Loona replied: “Srry 2 hear that. Currently dealing with asshole boss and Moxxie the dick. Hang out at concert Friday?”

 Octavia: “Hope so. Mom has grudge against imps and hellhounds, what a royal bitch.”

 Loona: “Smh. Hang in there, my friend.”

 Octavia knew that her regal mother, Stella was pissed that Stolas had fucked the imp Blitzo behind her back. Octavia often worried that Stolas would go on some honeymoon with that creature and leave her behind with Stella. Stella wasn’t cruel but she was sterner than Stolas was. Octavia didn’t know which was worse, her father’s childish attitude laced with a perverted nature…or her mother’s cold critiques of Octavia’s behavior. Stella loved her but expected her to mold into the royal role she was given from birth. Stella was more concerned with tea parties, fashionable attire and her appearance than Octavia’s many thoughts.

 Currently, Octavia was just a typical emo/goth teenager who had to deal with a lot of stuff going on.  

 Octavia’s room was different as well. More spacious, it had a couple of slanted windows between purple drawn curtains that let in some light. A solar system mobile hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. A mirror hung on the wall along with several banners with suns and moons on them. A long couch in the style of white feathers sat off to the side, complete with comfy cushions and pillows. There was a smaller purple telescope as well. Her bed still had the sparkling starry drapes and above that, were hanging purple drapes with a small moon on it and a large pink eye at the very top. Her bedspread was midnight blue with crescent moons on them and the chest by her bed was plainer than before.

 Octavia sat up in bed, with her feathers ruffled, quite literally as well as figuratively. With a grumpy look on her face, Octavia inserted earphones into her ears and held a blue phone in her hand, decorated with a yellow crescent moon. Octavia got dressed in her usual pink shirt with stars on it, black pants, shoes and a crown on her head.

 A playlist of songs appeared, the majority of them were by My Chemical Romance and some were by Lilith. An icon with flames and a sad face appeared on the screen and she pressed the play icon. Pop music played in her ears as a person sang: “My world is burning down around me.”

 The screams grew with intensity as she got out of bed and walked down a hall lined with Venus Fly Trap plants of different colors. They were arranged in a pattern of brown, magenta and purple. One poor potted planet crashed to the floor in front of Octavia. She stepped over the mess as she continued listening.

 She could hear the vehement arguments form her parents as she walked into the spacious kitchen.

 There was her mother, Queen Stella in a white dress with the top part of her outfit a light pink. A crown was on her head and light gray feathers fanned from her head like long hair.

 “I can’t believe you slept with an imp, in our fucking bed!”

 “It was unexpected!” Stolas replied. “I didn’t have time to go to a motel!”

 Stella seethed in disgust. “A motel?! Like a fucking plebian?!” (Roman word for commoner)

 “You want to fuck this one too?!”

 In a fury, she grabbed a small white dressed imp butler and tossed him at her husband.

 Stolas flinched, holding up his hands. “No! Of course not!”

 Stella pointed a finger at him. “You are a god damn embarrassment! I’m not spending another moment looking at your pathetic, imp-sucking face!”

 Stella stormed out of the room, tossing and breaking more of Stolas’ beloved plants as she yelled.

 Stolas sighed in exasperation before turning to look at his sulking daughter who was sitting at a table with a box of cereal.

 “Good morning, Octavia!” he greeted. “Did you sleep well, my owlet?”

 “Was that a serious question?” she deadpanned as she drank coffee from a mug.

 “Mm-hmm…” Stolas began as he walked to an old fashioned white refrigerator with the royal crest on it. He opened the door and took out a slab of zebra meat on a plate. In a corner shelf was a can of soda and a cartoon of chocolate milk. In a zip-lock bag were three white dead mice for a later snack. (They are owls after all!)

 “What’s that you’re listening to?” he asked, with a snap of his fingers.

 “This song is called “My World Is Burning Down Around Me.” It’s by Fuck You Dad. It’s a band.”

 “Oh…how charming…” Stolas chuckled bemusedly. He shut the door and fed the meat to a large white potted plant in a small alcove off the kitchen as he pet it. The satisfied plant closed its three eyes. A starry calendar hung on a nearby wall.

 “So…you two done screaming for the day?” Octavia asked.

 “Um…” Stolas began as Stella let out another scream of anger along with a crash.

 Stolas walked over to Octavia, who had a box of Robo Fizz’s Greed Seed cereal next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know what I haven’t done in a long, long time? I haven’t taken you to your favorite place in all of Hell! Why don’t we go to Loo-Loo Land?” He mentioned to a portrait of Stolas, Stella and a happy child Octavia in a dress at an apple theme park.

 “I’m not five anymore.”

 “You always were so happy when I took you to Loo-Loo Land! What do you say we go there again, have a day, just the two of us!”

 “I’d rather kill myself,” she deadpanned.

 “There we go!” Stolas beamed, bypassing her comment. “Anything but staying in this house.” He lifted a finger. “Now, I’ll arrange our security.”

 He picked up a white rotary phone carried on a platter by the battered imp servant.

 “Security for a theme park?”

 “We are rich, and we’re hot. People want our money and our bodies!”

 “Our money, maybe,” Octavia said under her breath. Stolas rotated the dial a few times.

 “Speak for yourself, Princess. Now, I’m calling the only man who can fuck me!”

 Octavia looked with disgust, cereal falling from her hand. “What?”

 “Who can protect me! Us. Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know.” The imp collapsed.

 Octavia groaned and pulled her hat down over her eyes.

 At the I.M.P. office, there was a picture of Blitzo wrapped in a towel with the words “#1 bitch” on it, with the word “boss” in red over the letters. A paper crown rested on one corner of the picture frame.

 Blitzo played with crude representations of Moxxie and Millie made of office supplies. “Millie” was made from a stick and clips while “Moxxie” was made from an eraser.

 “Oh, Blitzo, you’re such a good boss!” Blitzo impersonated Millie. “Yeah, I really want you sir,” he impersonated Moxxie. “Me too!” he said as Millie. “Let’s three-way!” he said as himself before lowering the office puppets to his crotch. The screaming ringtone of his cell-phone interrupted his pansexual fantasy.

 “What?!” he yelled into it. He lounged in his chair, legs propped up as he drank iced coffee from a bloodstained mug. A poster with SpindleHorse on hind legs with “Wild and Free,” hung from the wall.

 “Why hello, my big-dicked Blitzy!” Stolas spoke lustfully.

 Both Blitzo and Octavia forcefully spit out their coffee.

 Blitzo spoke angrily, “What…”

 Octavia said, “The…

 Blitzo: “Fuck…”

 Octavia: “Dad?!

 “Language! Everyone!” Stolas shouted out loud before speaking into the phone. “I have a special request.”

 “Aw look,” Blitzo mentioned, “I just had a chemical peel, so you’ll have to find someone else’s face to plant that feathered ass!” He was in no mood for another intimate session.

 “It’s for my daughter.”

 A session with Stolas’ daughter? “Ah, well make sure she washes it.”

 “Oh! No! No, no, no!” Stolas cried taken aback. “I’m taking my daughter to Loo-Loo Land and I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us.”

 “We’re assassins, not bodyguards, okay? Don’t invite us to shit unless someone’s gonna die.”

 “I’ll pay you.”

 “With what?”

 “Money.”

 “Done!” Blitzo yelled in confirmation, accidentally smashing his phone against the desk. He glanced in annoyance at the shattered pieces before producing a white megaphone with a painted monster mouth on it. He put the crown on his head.

 “M and M, get in here! We’re goin’ to Loo-Loo Land!”

 Moxxie opened the door to respond. “Loo-Loo Land?” he asked in concern. An excited Millie smashed her head through the glass window of the office door. “Loo-Loo Land!” Her eyes were shining.

 “Loo-Loo Land!” Blitzo yelled excitedly through the megaphone, his long snake-like tongue flickering.

 “Shut the fuck up!” Loona yelled from another room.

      Part Two: Loo-Loo Land

Loo-Loo Land was a knockoff apple themed park located in Mammon’s Ring of Greed. The sky was blue instead of red like it was in the Ring of Pride. Indeed, there were Seven Rings in this Hell ruled by Archdemons and named after the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Envy, Lust, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Wrath. Only sinners could dwell in the Ring of Pride; it was Lucifer’s punishment since he hated mortals. Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor and Beezelbub were the Archdemons…but Lucifer was the Ringmaster of all of them!

 A wide array of attractions spun, lit up, whirled and roared to life, some of them reaching toward the sky. There was a large Ferris wheel with a large blue star structure in the center. A star flyer swing ride spun people on swings, while a towering red roller coaster contrasted against the blue sky. A brick tower displayed an eye with pointed ears on the top of it. A white and red stripped circus tent stood between two tall pillars with red painted caramel apples on top as part of the design. Two smiling red apples wearing straw hats were the pillars that flanked the entrance. A teal sign with blinking lights around the border read “Mammon’s Loo-Loo Land” in white, the last “o” hanging lopsidedly. A cardboard cutout of Robo Fizz had an extended hand in an arch holding a welcome sign. A sign read, “Legally he have to say this,” and another sign said “Not affiliated with Lu Lu World.” Another sign read “Money please!” by a ticket booth.

 A dark gray van pulled into a parking spot and Moxxie got out. He walked with a blank expression on his face, wearing a black suit and dark sunglasses like his imp colleagues. A bold red I.M.P. decal was spray painted onto the van door. Moxxie slid open the door.

 There was the hunched black silhouette of Stolas, his four red eyes glowing menacingly in the dark. He got out of the van, a happy tall owl wearing red shorts and a white Loo-Loo Land shirt. There was a brief silhouette of Octavia, her two eyes glowing violet. Octavia seethed in annoyance as she peered out through the door. Blitzo and Millie came along as well, getting up from the red seats. Stolas put on an apple hat with big eyes and excitedly mentioned for his daughter to come along. Octavia covered her face with her black hat before following.

 In a black suit and sunglasses, Blitzo strolled by Stolas with a serious expression as they walked by a booth that sold apple Loo-Loo hats. By a clock with a black crown on it that read 7:30 AM, was another booth with “Balloons Attack” on it.

 “Now remember, this is work and work only,” Blitzo reminded Stolas. “Me and my crew are not here to satisfy your perverted bird needs, alright?”

 “Hey, dad, do we have to…” Octavia complained before Blitzo cut her off.

 “Okay, yeah, hold on right there, sweetie.” He turned to Stolas, holding an accusing finger at him. “If you try fuckin’ my little ass in that park, I swear to…”

 Stolas leaned down and playfully tapped and booped Blitzo on the nose. “You are so cute when you are serious!”

 “I am literally going to be sick,” Octavia deadpanned.

 “Oh crumbs!” exclaimed Moxxie, rummaging through his small gray bag. “I knew today would be a lot! What do you need?”

 Moxxie fished around in the bag, retrieving pill bottles. “Antacids? Ibuprofen? Morphine?”

With a sharp toothed grin, Moxxie showed Octavia eight hypodermic needles with a glowing green substance in them.

 “That was figurative, old man,” Octavia replied, arms crossed before walking away.

 “Oh, right,” Moxxie chuckled sheepishly as he casually tossed the needles into a baby stroller by the cotton candy booth. A red baby imp wearing a bib with a pentagram on it stuck out his tongue and cooed as he reached playfully toward the deadly looking needles.

 “But she said it was ‘literally,’” Moxxie muttered under his breath.

 On a wall of a Plush booth were Robo Fizz posters and several taped signs that read: “Not Lu Lu World! Stop showing complaints,” “Does Lu Lu World have a sex robot? No! Stop asking!” “I would never do that to my BFF Lucifer.” “Everyone is so mean to me.”

 Millie took off her sunglasses and beamed. “Wooow! I haven’t been to this place since I was a tot!”

 An R on an “Apple Core Roll” sign fell off and squashed a poor teen imp below it. Moxxie flinched.

 “It hasn’t changed a bit! Oh! Look! It’s Big Lovely!”

 Near a gray Extermination booth with exterminator plush heads stood a blue animatronic T-Rex dinosaur wearing a shirt with a planet on it. It had yellow lopsided eyes. Three imps stood to watch it. It suddenly opened its mouth and let out a fierce roaring shriek.

 “That is…deeply upsetting,” Moxxie mentioned. Millie pulled him toward her. “Oh come on! It’s fun! You’ve never been here?”

 “No,” said Moxxie. “Theme parks always disturbed me. Especially the mascots,” he shivered.

 The park’s apple mascot suddenly appeared behind Moxxie. It was a large red apple with a big row of teeth with several holes in them. The top of the apple was green and a black top hat rested on top of the costume. The eyes were big, the black pupils shaped like Pacman symbols. The mascot also wore gloves.

 “Well hey there!” the mascot called in a goofy southern accent.

 Moxxie screamed in fright as the imps both turned around.

 “I’m Loo-Loo! Welcome to Loo-Loo Land!” said the mascot, spreading out his arms. “If y’all get hurt here, just try and sue us!” The mascot stood on an apple design on the ground as the animatronic head fell onto another imp. Stolas and Octavia stood near a carousel with monstrous looking horses and a small triceratops dinosaur. Some of the horses had bat wings, painted eyes all over and fiery shaped manes.

 Stolas’s eyes glowed with childish excitement, while Octavia stood embarrassed. “Look! Via! It’s Loo-Loo!”

 “I have a question,” Octavia stated, holding up a finger.

 The mascot leaned in close to her. “Well ask away, little girlie!” The mascot bounced around, an eyeball hanging out as he made “a-hyuk, a-hyuk a-hyuk” sounds.

 “Is it true this park is just a really shameless spin-off of Lucifer’s far more popular Lu Lu World?” Octavia smirked as Stolas looked at her with a pleading frown.

 The mascot paused. “No?”

 Octavia narrowed her eyes and scoffed. “This place reeks of insecure corporate shame.”

 Stolas chuckled in embarrassment before leading Octavia away. “Why don’t we go check out the rides?”

 “That chick’s creepy, huh?” the mascot asked.

 “Ah, wait till her dad tries to diddle your holes,” Blitzo deadpanned.

 “What’s that mean?”

 “Don’t talk to me!” Moxxie called in suspicion, poking a finger at him. “I know you’re a pervert under there!”

 Moxxie and Millie left. The mascot hung his body in dejection as he sighed “Yeah.”

 Moxxie and Millie headed down a pathway while a sweating Moxxie stopped to catch his breath. “You really like this place, huh?”

 “I love this place!” Millie exclaimed. “My parents would bring me and my siblings here, when they could swing it, Money-wise.” Willie and Lillie were Millie’s brother and sister and sometimes they were just as excited as she was. Unlike Blitzo’s mean father Donner and Moxxie’s parents, Millie’s parents tried to do what was best for their children while also attempting to survive.

  An imp wearing loose clothing and a baseball cap pushed a wheelbarrow full of money into a nearby toy shop. A nearby sign on a brick wall showed a Robo Fizz doll and the words, “New! Fizzy Buddy! He laughs, he sings, he swears! Tell your parents to buy me! Over 100 lovable phrases! Posable! Only 48% asbestos.”

 The two imps approach a window where apple plushies and apple shaped novelty cups with Ls on them were sold for $29.

 Moxxie mentioned, “Yeah, the prices do seem rather criminal. I mean, that much for a novelty cup you use one time?”

 “’Cause it’s Loo-loo Land!” Millie said excitedly. Blitzo walked over, slurping from a straw in a novelty cup. He wore a hat with an apple on it and two can holders and straws attached to it. Loo-Loo Land brought back memories of him and his sisters doing jokes and performing at the circus.

 “Listen to your ho’ Mox,” Blitzo said, mentioning behind him. “How ‘bout I take the first watch while you two…” he winked, “have a little fun.” Stolas held up a white shirt with an apple on it to Octavia who frowned.

 “Oh!” Millie cried. “We gotta do my favorite ride!” She picked Moxxie up and carried him as she ran.

 “Oh yeah? Whi-Which one?”

 Millie and Moxxie raced over to The Lawsuit roller coaster, the carts were red with the front displaying a green grin. The ride plunged at a sheer 90 degree drop while on fire. A lone rider hung on for dear life and screamed as the ride plunged into a tunnel in the ground. The mascot posed by a height rules sign. Later on, Moxxie threw up in a trash can as an angry vomit covered imp family glared at them. Even the red three eyed dragon from the petting zoo glared at Moxxie.

 Stolas happily carried a balloon in his hand while Octavia slouched on. They walked by a stand that read “Funnel Cakes: Eternal Suffering” with popcorn and a sausage on a fork. Blitzo snuck around like a secret agent with his sniper rifle. He appeared on a teal-green tent roof of an “Ice Cream Bugs” stand. Blitzo slid with his rifle and knocked over cups at a “Hot and Cold Drunks” stand. The imps glared at him as he toppled backwards onto the ground. A nearby blaster game was titled “Stop that Soul” and showed a frowning sun and cardboard angels in clouds with xs over their eyes. Another sign read “Hax Away.”

 Five grinning imps with knives and weapons peered out from an alleyway at Stolas, itching to kill him and steal the prince’s money. Blitzo slid along the floor, then glared at the imps, causing them to scatter away. Blitzo aimed his sniper again, near a game where imps could knock out mechanical clown’s teeth at “Teeth Off!” Stolas tilted his head upside down and stroked Blitzo’s horns from above. There was a game where one could toss balls into skulls and a ring toss with real spikes to toss them onto.

 “You know, it’s quite thrilling to see you on the job, Blitzy.”

 “Save it, bitch. I’m working.”

 Octavia rolled her eyes. “You both need to get a room.”

 “Hey!” Blitzo called. “I am not a day-hooker!”

 A nearby imp mother and her baby glared at Blitzo.

 “What? I just said I’m not one, prude!” He flipped her the bird. A nearby film sign read “Pirana.”

 Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie walked along a line of booths, one read “Muppet” and one read “Knock a Bottle.” Millie suddenly beamed and pulled Moxxie toward another vendor. A smug imp wearing a yellow hat and a red shirt spotted them.

 “Hello, hello!” he called. “Step right up and win a thing!”

 Millie’s eyes shone as she gasped and pointed upwards. “Oh, look Moxxie! A thing!”

 The “thing” was a purple stuffed animal wearing pink overalls with stripped imp horns. It had a yellow beak, an upside down cross on it and a tag with “Thing?” on it.

 Moxxie looked at her with a grin. “Oh, you like that thing?”

 “Yessss!” Millie exclaimed, drawing out the word. “I don’t know what that thing is, but I want that thing!”

 Moxxie straightened his bow tie with a smug look. “Finally something I can handle.”

 He walked up to the vendor, took out some money and handed it to the carnie. “Okay! One game, please!”

 The carnie rolled his eyes and handed Moxxie a clown-like blaster with his tail. Moxxie pulled the trigger with one eye shut and the cork projectile hit the bullseye on the cardboard smiling apple’s behind. Millie clapped in the background. Moxxie made a “ricochet” noise and blew the black powder smoke clear of the gun.

 The carnie just grinned. “Strike one, little man!”

 Moxxie stared in disbelief. “But I hit it!”

 “Hmm, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. The target, see? It didn’t go down. So yeah, no go, bro.”

 Moxxie slammed another dollar bill onto the counter, picked up the gun and fired again. He hit the bullseye but the cardboard apple stayed in place. He slapped the pistol in annoyance. “The Heaven’s wrong with this thing?!”

 The carnie smirked. “Oh man, a real shame I tell ya. Whaa, whaa!” He pretended to cry and rub his eyes.

 Moxxie hissed in anger and slapped another bill on the counter. “Another!”

 Again and again Moxxie tried to hit it, but the carnie rigged the game, not making the apples go down. Soon, the carnie was holding 600 souls of Moxxie’s money, the dollar bills had Robo Fizz on them. He rolled one bill up into a cigar and put it in his mouth.

 “Wow! Man, you’re really starting to make this sad. You know, if you suck, you suck! Guess you won’t win your honey here a prize.”

  Moxxie seethed in anger.

 “Let me try!” Millie said, taking the blaster from Moxxie. She fired it and the cork flew far off between the apples. The carnie grinned mischievously, and pressed a foot pedal, making an apple target go down.

 “Oh, look at that! Lucky shot, baby,” the carnie said. He wiggled the rolled up bill against Moxxie and dropped it. Millie laughed and clapped.

 Moxxie yelled, “Are you kidding me?! You…you…charlatan!”

 The carnie pressed his hand into Moxxie’s face. “Hey, uh get lost pipsqueak, I’m talkin’ to the lady.”

 He leaned toward her and made a purring sound, causing her to flinch back in disgust.

   Meanwhile, Stolas pulled Octavia close with a gasp, letting go of his balloon.

“Look, Via! You used to cry such tears of joy at this show!”

 Stolas mentioned to a large circus tent with promotional signs of Robo Fizz on either side. A mother imp tried to drag her crying child toward the tent.

 “Oh no…” Octavia breathed, her white pupils constricting. A flashback of when she was a young girl came back to her. She was pushed against the stage by other cheering imp children. Robo Fizz was a robotic imp jester who posed on the stage with his arms spread out. An animatronic band was behind him. A neon sign above read “Fizzarolli and Friends,” with the “R” burnt out which made it look like “Fiends.” Robo Fizz sparked and cackled, wiggling his fingers and leering over a crying Octavia. Off to the side, a scowling Blitzo was dressed in clown makeup and attending a food cart.

 Back in the present, Octavia and Blitzo muttered at the same time: “I hate that fucking clown!”

 Meanwhile, Stolas happily waved as he was being held captive in the air by the gang of imps pointing weapons at him.

 “Oh Blitzy! I need my bodyguard, please!” Stolas smiled unconcerned before another imp jumped up and put a purple cloth sack over the owl’s head. Another imp grinned and held Stolas’ wallet. One imp jumped, trying to skewer him with a pitchfork. Blitzo turned around and fired his rifle, shooting the imp in the torso. Black blood splattered against the cloth sack over Stolas’ head. The imps dropped him and quickly scattered away. Blitzo carried Stolas into the tent and set him down on a wooden bench before leaving. Octavia sat next to him, rolled her eyes and removed the blood-soaked cloth form Stolas’ head. The owl blinked, wondering where he was.

 Two spotlights merged into one on the stage and Robo Fizz flapped open the curtains. He wore a jester outfit and his horns were covered with stripped cloth and little bells hung from the ends. A happy face and sad face pin were by his shoulders along with a string of lights as a necklace. His pants were stripped and he wore gloves. His shirt had small white hearts near the bottom and his eyes glowed an eerie green.

 Six lit up arrow signs pointed to him and read: “Fizzarolli,” “Robot property of Mammon,” “Look at him go!” “Yes! Love 2 c it!” “Wow!” “He.”

 Robo Fizz held up a sign with “Lu Lu” crossed out in red with “Loo-Loo, the better one,” on it. He also briefly held out a red and gold contract signed by Mammon: “This is a statement regarding the unfair accusations that my theme park “Loo-Loo Land” is trying to profit off my friend and ruler Lucifer’s park Lu Lu World. This is false. These allegations are baseless and untrue. You are all just dicks. Fuck right off and stop saying that, alright? They are legally distinct. I checked. Signed Mammon.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey implings!” he said in his showman voice. “It’s me, the Robotic Fizzarolli! Shipped from Mammon’s factory to bring you a wonderful show celebrating Loo-Loo Land (spelled with O’s to avoid lawsuits!) Hit it!”

 Rows of spotlights lit up and he began to sing. The curtains opened and Robo Fizz’s Five Nights at Freddy’s band played. An open clown mouth served as the stage backdrop. Robo Fizz rapidly pointed at a boy imp and a girl imp and made his rounds toward Stolas and Octavia. He moved back to the stage just as Blitzo aimed his sniper at him in warning. The band played on a rising structure shaped like a cake, decorated with eyes and sharp spikes.

  “Loo-Loo Land, Loo-Loo Land!

Everybody sing along with the Loo-Loo band!

Every girl, every boy, every woman, every man

Loves Loo-Loo Land!”

 An animatronic bear and a smaller rabbit meshed together played a red banjo with a pentagram on it. A lopsided dinosaur played a guitar decorated with flames. A green frog with large human teeth played the Robo Fizz head drums and a brown dog played the triangle. The two speakers on either side were shaped like weapons and had skulls on them. “Fizzarolli and Friends” sign glowed at the top.

 “Loo-Loo Land! Loo-Loo Land!

Everything is beautiful in Loo-Loo Land!

Ugly children holdin’ hands

In Loo-Loo Land!”

 Robo Fizz briefly pulled a crowd of imps into a hug before spinning around and tossing them aside. They crashed back into the stands. He hugged the animatronic dinosaur which fizzled and slapped the bear and rabbit, which squirted black ink at a nearby imp.

 He poured gasoline onto a pile of “cease and desist” papers, causing them to go up in flames.

 “Everybody’s friendly, and nobody is mean

No copyright infringement’s ever seen!”

 In an imitation of Princess Charlie, Robo Fizz then posed on top of a piano. He stood on top, hand over his heart in the spotlight.

 “I have a dream (he has a dream)

I’m here to tell (he has to tell)

About a magical fantastic place called Loo-Loo Land!”

 He spun his body around and landed in a pose with arms and legs spread out. Octavia watched with disgust and boredom.

  “Loo-Loo Land, Loo-Loo Land!

Everybody sing along with the Loo-Loo band!

Every girl, every boy, every woman, every man

Loves Loo-Loo Land!”

 The show ended with a pyrotechnic display. Green flames ate up one of the curtains and Robo Fizz laughed as he did a final pose up front. Octavia leaned her head back and pounded her fist on the bench in annoyance. Stolas cheered and rapidly clapped.

 “Ohhohohoho! How delightful! Haven’t had this much fun since the last Harvest Moon Festival…” Octavia hid her face in her hat again.

 Behind Stolas, an imp armed with a wave-shaped keris sword rose from beneath the seats, ready to stab him. The imp’s head was quickly blown apart by Blitzo at the back seats.

 “Oh! My, what aim you have, Blitzy!” Stolas praised.

 “Ugh! I can’t do this anymore!” Octavia shouted in frustration.

 “Octavia!” Stolas reached out in concern as the owl teen stormed off. Stolas chased after her as Blitzo followed suit. Robo Fizz cackled as he spotted the imp dashing along.

 “Ha ha ha hoho-oh! Is that Blitzo my sensors spot up there?” He emphasized the silent “O” in his name. “I bet the kiddies are still running away from you, huh?”

He spun his head around in loops and cackled.

 “The “O” is silent now!” Blitzo stopped and yelled.

 Robo Fizz mocked him some more and did wild dance-like poses. “Uh huh! Just like your audience always was when you to-told your lazy jokes here!”

 Blitzo tossed his sunglasses aside. “I make more money killing people than you do being a cheap-ass ripoff of an overrated sell-out jester!”

 “Oh ho ho! Someone’s salty! Real or not though, people love me! Does anybody love you…”

 His face turned dark and his eyes glowed menacingly, grin stretched wide, “Blitzo?!”

 “No. But I’m really good with guns now!” Blitzo took out his sniper. “Dance, bitch!”

 Blitzo slammed a new magazine into his rifle, switched it to full-auto and opened up on Robo Fizz, who cartwheeled out of the way of the rounds. He rapidly spun like a wheel up the stairs to where Blitzo was. He coiled himself around Blitzo like a snake, before using his momentum to launch the imp out of the tent.

 “Fuck meeeee!” Blitzo yelled.

 Outside, Wally Wayford, an imp with a southern accent was selling lit torches. There were two posters of Robo Fizz, the first was “Fizzarolli and the Handy Dandies.”

The other showed Robo Fizz with handcuffs:  “Robo Fizz Personal Companion. Gives and receives. Ribbed for your pleasure. Real tentacle action. Ten speed vibration. BDSM feature. Machine Washable.”

 “Torches, I say, I say!” Wally said in a southern accent. “Get your inconvenient torches here!”

 Blitzo landed on the cart with a yell, which scattered the green torches everywhere.

 “Ow…I say ow!” Wally yelled.

 The flames lit the big top of fire. The flames rapidly spread to all corners of the park. Burning animatronics fled the tent as Robo Fizz cackled with demonic glee at the chaos.

 Back at the blaster game, Blitzo had crash landed through the roof and into the pervert carnie just in time, saving Millie.

 “Sir?” asked Moxxie, surprised.

 “Oh hey guys!” a dazed Blitzo replied. “You should probably go and uh…make sure Stolas is okay! I got some…unfinished business to take care of.”

 Blitzo stood up and drew a brown flintlock pistol and fired. Robo Fizz swayed creepily toward Blitzo, a red eye showing on his burning grinning face, green flames behind him. The impact spun Robo Fizz’s head around…but the jester was unharmed by the shot.

 “Oh what a mouth!” Blitzo exclaimed as Robo Fizz caught the bullet in his mouth and spat it out. Blitzo grimaced as Robo Fizz rolled at him again. Moxxie, Millie and Blitzo jumped out of the way as the jester hit the booth, destroying it in a large explosion. Shrapnel and several white imp head prizes flew through the air on fire. The piece of a stuffed animal hit a young imp boy on the head, leaving him unconscious. The photographer then snapped the picture of the imp family.

 “Goddammit Nathan!” the fat father yelled. “You ruined another bloody photo! Why were you even born?!”

 Stolas wandered around other booths: Aim and Fire Shoot Apple, Happy Ducking, and a bomb themed Knok Knok game. One was called Eggs in the Basket, Poison Apples sold caramel apples decorated like slimy skulls and a dunking game was called Drown the Sinner.  

 Stolas then gasped. “Octavia!”

 Octavia ran into a fun house shapes like an elongated head of Lucifer. The face was white with the blushes on the cheeks and the eyes were green and snake-like. The steps were positioned onto a long tongue and the fun house entrance was shaped like Lucifer’s fanged mouth. A top hat and an apple reading “Fun House” was at the top. Stolas followed her inside as two grinning imps held rope and weapons close behind.

 The neon interior was filled with eyes, tubes, swinging pendulums, mirrors and disembodied hands. Stolas went further into the room and looked around. A sign reading “Smile” had an arrow pointed down at a tunnel. A shadow appeared behind Stolas as a random imp jumped onto his shoulders.

 “Um, I think I’m supposed to be body-guarded right now!” Stolas said, annoyed.

The imp covered Stolas’ mouth with his shirt sleeve, but was shot in the head, falling to the ground. Moxxie and Millie appeared in the entryway, Millie had just shot the imp.

 “Ugh. That’s better,” Stolas said, brushing his sleeve. “Where is Blitzy? He’s my knight in shining armor, not you littler ones.” Even his apple hat got an annoyed expression on it.

 The imps came over to him, Millie hugging the thing stuffed animal. “He’s…uh busy.”

 “Being a fool,” said Moxxie.

 “What kind of fool?” asked Stolas.

 “The “everything is now on fire,” kind,” Moxxie replied.

 Stolas left the imps, dodging two swinging pendulums, and headed down a tunnel into an adjoining room filled with eyes on the wall. He then spotted Octavia sitting in one of four apple-themed rail cars, crying.

“Octavia…” Stolas breathed. He took off his apple hat and it fell to the floor, the goofy face now a sad face, reflecting Stolas’ emotional state.

 Stolas scooted next to Octavia, leaving a bit of space between them. “I take it you are…not having fun.”

 “I didn’t even want to come here!” Octavia protested.

 “I’m sorry, sweetie. I thought you loved it here.”

 Octavia glared at her father. “When I was a kid and my parents didn’t hate each other, and my dad didn’t flirt with some weird red dickhead the entire time.”

 Both owls looked downcast.

 “I’m sorry, Via,” Stolas said. “I’m sorry for everything happening right now. I know it’s a lot but I…uh…I should have listened.”

 “I just want to go home, but home doesn’t even feel like home anymore. You ruined it.” More tears fell from Octavia’s eyes as she shook her head and wiped more away with her arm.

 “You need to understand, you mother and I…” He stroked the back of his head, nervously. “I just…I felt…she’s always been…I haven’t been” He stuttered, “…we weren’t in…” He buried his head in his hands, “I’m sorry, I-I-I don’t have the words.”

 “Are you going to run off with him? And leave me behind? Go away where I can’t find you?”

 “What? No!” He pulled her close. “No, no, never. I’d never do that. Never.” Both of them embraced in a tight hug. “I think it’s time to leave this place,” Stolas said. Octavia smiled a bit through her tears. Despite his mistakes, her father loved her dearly. It wasn’t too hard to forgive him. Stolas lifted her up into his arms and continued, “You were right. You are too old for it, anyway.” He walked through an apple shaped opening.

 Stolas carried Octavia out of the Fun House as an imp grinned manically in the space above the drop-ceiling. The imp dropped down and flicked open a switchblade behind him. Stolas immediately turned around, his red eyes glowing brightly. The frightened imp was turned to stone on the spot, then was knocked over by a pendulum.

 As dusk feel outside, the park was reduced to pandemonium. Millie tried to shoot Robo Fizz who wildly rolled around. The red dragon picked up Robo Fizz, tossed him into the air before catching him and swallowing him whole. On the dragon’s back, Moxxie gaped in terror.

 Stolas and Octavia left the park gates.

 “So, what would you like to do now?” Stolas asked.

 Octavia smiled. “Oh, can we go to Stylish Occult? They sell weird taxidermy there.”

 “Hmm,” Stolas said reluctantly, but then said “Okay.”

 Octavia let out a small laugh. “Thanks, dad. You’re okay sometimes.”

 Stolas smiled down at her, his face bright against the starry sky above. It was nice to get a compliment from her. “Thank you Via. Thank you…”

 A massive explosion rocked the park, sending green flames shooting up into the air. The I.M.P. imps hurtled through the air, screaming before all three landed in front of the owls. All three were covered with smoke.

 “Way to ruin another good thing, sir!” Moxxie strained at Blitzo.

 “Worth it!” Blitzo replied, holding up a shaking finger. “That slutty toy clown had. It. Coming!”

 Moxxie and Blitzo then fell unconscious.

  In the darkness, Valentino’s hairless black dog Queef sniffed the unconscious Millie, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her still form away…

 Helluva Boss Episode Three: Spring Broken

Part One: Verosika

 The ground-shaking rock music blared as a gray van rolled along the street at high speed. The front hood of the van was loose and rattled up and down, showing a dark opening. The front headlights looked like a dark grate with a few yellow lights at the very ends. The small license plate at the front read “IMP-666” in black letters. Two red stripes streaked across the side of the van while the bold red and white I.M.P. decal was proudly displayed on the side door.

 “I love this song!” exclaimed the leader imp, Blitzo. He was wearing his usual work outfit; a navy blue coat with red buttons and a red pin at the front. Above Blitzo hung small red and white flags. In the center was a white toy horse with a blonde mane and tail. With his hands on the wheel, Blitzo belted out the lyrics:

 “You were the little spicy…uh… demon with the bleach blonde hair Fiendin' for some semen when I caught your stare Thought it might be love but you went too far Fucked all of my friends and blew up my car

 Lit me on fire made me watch rom-coms Made a secret sex tape and showed it to my mom You were a bitch kinda generally Now I'm a wet wild stallion and I'm running free

 You stepped on my nuts and you tore me apart Slapped up my booty and tangled my farts Cut off my dick when you shattered my heart But it grew back twice as long

 MUSTANG DONG!”

 Memories of him and a former lover were already rushing back to him. The song perfectly described his previous love life and though not very pleasant, was still fun to sing to. There were many times in his life where he considered horses to be better companions than his peers. An array of endless horse names and adventures he could conjure up in his head…

 Blitzo made “horn” rocker symbols with his hands as he nodded his head to the beat. In shotgun, Loona made a face of annoyance as she glanced at her black and white cell phone in her hands. She wore her usual shorts, torn gray tank top and black strings in the shape of a downward facing pentagram below her neck. In the back of the van, Moxxie covered both ears as he sat in the long red seat. He wore his usual dark coat and red bow tie. Millie rolled down her window and smiled as the breeze blew through her wild black hair. She had on her black tank top and torn pants as well.

 Blitzo drove the van into a reserved parking lot, surrounded by graffiti-sprayed buildings. A worn white banner on one building read “Buck you Flitzo” in bold capital letters. One of the buildings was decorated with a large red eye made of glass. Bizarrely enough, there was a billboard that advertised holy water. Blitzo haphazardly drove through the lot opening. He was just about to pull into the remaining empty space to the right when a pink convertible car beat him to it.

 “Holy shit! F…” Blitzo yelled, he and Loona both fearful. Blitzo rapidly turned the wheel and the horn sounded. He slammed on the brakes and the van skidded to a stop. The pink car had a red heart with gold trim on the back and a golden border. The license plate read “SUCK-4-LIFE.” The wheels had small white hearts on the dark inside, white rims surrounding them.

 An angry Blitzo rolled his head and turned off the radio.

 Oh, you “suck for life,” do ya?!” he asked as he glared at the car. He pulled out his white megaphone and leaned out the window.

 “Listen up, you unoriginal pink cum dump!” he yelled through the megaphone. “You have three goddamn seconds to get your dick out of my parking spot…”

 A pair of tall high heels lowered to the ground. The shoes were black with pink hearts on them. The figure wore black tight pants with three pink xs on the side. She wore a black and white dress, a black star on the lower half and a large X and O over her breasts. A sparkly light pink fluffy coat covered her shoulders. Her face was dark pink and a black choker was around her neck. She had a pointed tail, little bat wings and curved pink horns with a few black stars on them. Her hair was long and pinkish white, and sunglasses with pink hearts on them obscured her eyes.

 Blitzo lowered his megaphone in shock at the sight of the familiar succubus.

 “Oh shit! Verosika?!”

 The succubus blew a bubble of pink gum before it popped.

 “Blitzo,” she greeted, arms folded. She had pronounced the “o” on purpose to annoy Blitzo.

 Blitzo glared. “I should have known you’d be here. I could smell fish for miles. Which is odd because I believe the nearest ocean is…”

 Blitzo fell out through the window, face-planting onto the ground. He quickly stood up, pointing at the ground, “…three rings down!” He was referring to the Ring of Envy where the oceanic ruler Leviathan resided.

 “And I should have known you’d be here when I heard the Amber Alerts,” Verosika retorted. She held a white and brown flask bottle in her left hand. It was decorated with a small red and white heart near the top. “I.M.P. is a scam!” and “Swear word” were painted on a nearby brick wall.

 “Oh yeah?” he asked. “I’m surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab. I can see you’re still a drunken whore, clutching onto that beelzejuice juice bottle like it’s the last cock in Hell.”

 “They let me out because I’m still famous,” Verosika bragged, flipping back her long hair dramatically, “and rehab is for sad, loser wash-ups.”

 She took a drink from her bottle and wiped her black lipstick mouth with a gloved white thumb.

 “So your sister says hi,” she smirked, implying a temporary sexual relation with Tilla or Barbie Wire.

 Blitzo stomped over toward Verosika. “Why are you parking here?” he growled. “This is the only parking spot my company has. So take your tampon race car somewhere else.”

 Verosika leaned slightly toward him. “Actually prick, it has my name on it.”

 She pointed down at their feet, where “Verosika” and a heart was spray painted in purple over the previous black “I.M.P.”

 Verosika stood up. “I’m doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building…”

 “No way,” Loona breathed as she peered from the van.

 “…and they wanted to have me come in this week to lead their team during spring break.”

 “A week?!” Blitzo exclaimed. “No, no, you are not parking here for a fucking week!”

 Verosika removed her sunglasses, revealing pink irises with yellow sclera.

 “Aw, you mad, Blitzo?” she cooed in a mocking tone. “You gonna run off, leaving someone else to pay for the hotel room, steal their car…”

 Verosika and Blitzo talked over each other, “…and run three Rings to Wrath and back and max my credit cards on shitty horse riding lessons?!”

 Blitzo stomped his foot. “God dammit whore, you will not let that go!”

 Verosika walked past him, showing a middle finger. “Choke on a sandpaper cock.”

 Loona lowered her head as she walked by. Blitzo angrily followed Verosika.

 “Hold on, you better move that pussy wagon right now or I’m gonna…”

 Blitzo froze as he heard a low growling sound behind him. Towering over him was a beefy dark gray Hellhound man. He wore a torn black jacket decorated with red spikes along the shoulders. A black tattoo of a wolf with sharp teeth and a tongue out was on his left shoulder. He had thick eyebrows, torn pointed ears, a black nose and a scar over his milky left eye. His right eye was red.

 “You’ll what?” he grunted, showing his sharp white teeth.

 Blitzo stuttered and looked around, fearfully. “Or I’ll…um…I’ll…I’ll call HR.”

 Blitzo, Verosika and the Hellhound burst into sudden laughter before they calmed down.

 “Anyway,” said Verosika, “Meet my new Hellhound, Vortex. Unlike you, he actually does his job well.”

 Vortex walked by Verosika’s side as she left. She flipped off Blitzo again before saying, “Ta ta, fuck stain.”

 “Ugh, I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that,” Blitzo muttered in annoyance.

 Just then, Loona stepped out of the van. “You know Verosika Mayday?!”

 “Huh?” Blitzo asked. Then he casually answered, “Oh yeah, her, yeah, we dated.”

 “Was it before or after she became a pop star?” Millie asked in curiosity.

 Blitzo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

 “You dated a popstar?!” Moxxie added as he stepped out of the van.

 “Okay, why are you all acting like that’s such a shock?” Blitzo asked.

 “Hello. It’s Verosika Mayday?” Loona replied.

 “It’s you?” Millie said. Moxxie and Millie were surprised that a famous person like Verosika would consider dating someone who was perceived to be far below her league.

 Moxxie scratched his head. “I just…Is she blind? Suffering some form of brain damage?”

 “Okay look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be,” Blitzo said. “I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives.”

 Loona, Moxxie, and Millie did overlapping yells:

  “You do that all the time, sir!” yelled Moxxie.

 “Come on, you do that,” added Millie.

 “You totally do that,” Loona agreed.

 Millie grinned mischievously, her eyelids lowering. “What was sex with her like?”

 “Millie!” Moxxie yelled, taken aback.

 “What?!” Millie shrugged. “It’s a pop star! You’d wanna know what sex with Michael Crawford was like.”

 Moxxie paused in mid argument. “Touché.”

 “Okay look, let’s just drop it!” Blitzo demanded. “Millie, find a temporary spot for that truck.”

 He tossed a pair of keys to a gleeful Millie, who caught them and scampered off.

 “Okay, Loonie, Moxxie, let’s go handle this shit.”

 In the building, Loona led the way between the imps as the three stepped out of an elevator. The dark brown walls were decorated with yellow webbed cracks. I.M.P. was painted in red on an office door window. The Hellhound nervously stepped forward, hands together.

 “Did they see me? Fuck! I did my makeup shitty today!” she muttered. Blitzo stared at her with shining eyes.

 “Oh you look perfect, Loonie. Like always.”

  She flinched away from him, arms crossed as she passed by a water cooler. A look of annoyance crossed Loona’s face at Blitzo baby-talking her.

 “Oh shut up da…” Loona began before seeing a look of adoration and wide eyes on Blitzo’s face. She had almost said, “dad.”

 “Urgh!” she caught herself and shoved him aside. “…Blitzo!” She checked her face in a small hand mirror, a wolf design on it. She then bumped into a long furry arm.

 “Oh. Whoa,” she breathed. Glancing down at her was none other than Vortex. Redness crept up to her cheeks and she wagged her tail. Blitzo briefly smiled at Loona before gasping in shock. He dashed between Loona and Vortex, arms out.

 “Hi big man,” he said. “Where’s your bitch bag of an employer?”

 “She’s in her office,” said Vortex in a low voice. “There wasn’t room on the second floor so they rented one here on this one. It’s way cheaper.”

 Vortex mentioned toward a room down the hall, across from the I.M.P. office. Three neon hearts stood right above two blue double doors. A large pink “V” and a pink “M” were painted on the door windows, standing for Verosika Mayday (and Vivienne Medrando, creator of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss!)

 “Oh come on!” Blitzo yelled.

 Vortex chuckled with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sorry man,” he said before walking away.

 “Oh no you don’t, bitch,” Blitzo muttered.

 “Sir,” Moxxie began. “How about you let me go in and try to reason with her. I don’t really listen to what’s classified as “pop genre” music, so her status to me is…”

 Blitzo tuned out Moxxie’s rambling.

 “Moxxie,” he said, “Shut the fuck up.”

 “All righty then,” Moxxie replied, pushing open one of the blue doors and going inside. Electronic music briefly sounded from inside the room. The room had been converted into a dimly lit recording studio, with mixing consoles, effects units, microphones and separate booths. The neon pink border just under the ceiling gave it a club-like atmosphere, as did the rows of beer bottles on the counters. The silhouettes of Moxxie, Verosika and her gang of demons were visible from a large glass window.

 “Hello Miss Verosika was it?” Moxxie asked, his eyes golden and glowing. “I work for Imp and it is actually rather important for us to retain the singular parking space we were assigned because…”

 A woman succubus with a bob of hair pointed at Moxxie. “Aw, look at the little one. He’s got a wittle bow tie!” The gang snickered.

 “Please don’t condescend me, ma’am,” Moxxie replied. “I…”

 A male incubi leaned close to Moxxie. “Wanna kiss, you little guy?”

 Moxxie stepped back. “A…A kind offer, but…I’m married.”

 Verosika stepped forward as her gang surrounded Moxxie. “Hey, why don’t you send a little message from me back to your limp-dick boss?”

 Verosika and her gang hissed with sharp shadowy mouths over Moxxie. The imp screamed “Don’t touch that!” Blitzo raced over and pressed both hands on the window pane.

 “Moxxie, do not let her access any of your holes!” he cried.

 Moxxie raced back into the hall, his back against the closed doors. He was shaken and battered, with red lipstick kisses all over his face.

 “I…I gotta go lie down…now,” he stuttered as he walked away.

 Blitzo fumed, veins popping in his yellow eyes. “Oh this won’t stand!”

 He boot-kicked both doors open, gaining the attention of his ex and her crew. There were other succubi and incubi with reddish pink skin, horns, pointed tails and small bat wings. A white-haired man wore a black collar with a black upside down cross around his neck. He wore a black short sleeved shirt with a red logo that read “burn forest burn” on it. His taller male partner wore a ripped black tank top with a circled X on it. His hair was black and he had a black goatee. Two demon women partners sat together as well. The first had long dark hair and wore a fishnet top and leggings. The white-haired succubi next to her wore short revealing overalls. Verosika stood poised in the middle.

 “Alright, (censored)! That’s it!” Blitzo yelled, marching over toward Verosika. “If you’re gonna be shitty to my employees…” he pointed a finger at her, “…then I challenge you to a fucking…challenge!” He leaned his head back in frustration. “Fuck, I said that twice.”

 The woman with long dark hair chuckled. “Is this imp boy starting a demon duel?”

 “I think he is,” Verosika replied with a snicker. She bent over toward the imp. “What’s the game then, Blitzo?”

 “Every year, you STD spreaders go topside for easy pickings while spring break is a prime time for crime of all kinds!” Blitzo responded. He grinned, “So I bet…you succu-bitches can’t fuck as many people as we can off by the end of the day.” He briefly made a hand gesture of a gun.

 Verosika and her gang burst into laughter. Blitzo glared in determination. Verosika and the others stopped laughing. “Oh, you’re serious?” Verosika asked. She leaned in and spoke to Blitzo in a low whisper, “Game on, bitch.”

 Later at I.M.P. headquarters, Blitzo stood in front of an easel full of paper and a large whiteboard flanked by bat wings near the top. There was a large bar graph drawn on the board along with horse drawings. On the left hand corner, Blitzo had written, “Potential Horse Names: ‘Grape Fiesta’, ‘Paperclip’, and ‘Soap’, -32.”  Moxxie, Millie and Loona sat in their usual spiked chairs around a long table to listen.

 “Alright, shut your assholes, here’s how were gonna do this shit,” Blitzo announced.

 “First, we find a fuck ton of clients…”

 The animated childish drawings on the paper showed Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie and Loona standing together. A crowd of imps and clients surrounded them and gave them hugs and piles of money.

 “We portal up…”

 The Blitzo drawing snapped his fingers and the I.M.P. figures fell down to earth.

 “We have our fun murder time as per usual…”

 The I.M.P. figures used guns to kill the human figures around them.

 “We pile all the bodies into a big fucking canoe…”

 Drawing Blitzo tossed the dead humans into a canoe that read “S.S. Cum Gutter.”

 “We push said canoe into some water. We light it on fire to attract the sharks and eagles and maybe a goose, too. Fuck it…”

 Animated drawings of sharks, snakes, eagles and a goose ate at the bodies on fire. A large octopus sea monster snapped the boat and everything up in its mouth.

 “They come and eat the bodies, we win the bet…”

 The I.M.P. figures cheered, while the Loona one wore a party hat and blew a noisemaker.

 “We rub it in that sloppy bitch’s drunken whore ass face.”

 The Verosika drawing burst into tears on her knees as the I.M.P. figures flipped her off several times.

 “Do you have any questions?” Blitzo asked as the real meeting continued.

 “Uh yeah, why was that nonsense?” Moxxie deadpanned.

 Blitzo walked over to him. “That wasn’t a question.”

 “That wasn’t a plan,” Moxxie retorted.

 Blitzo put a hand around Moxxie. “I’m sorry, but that was a flawless presentation of what we should do, Mox. It’s not my fault you’ve got a smooth little brain upstairs.”

 “A what now?” Moxxie asked, eyebrows raised.

 “I’m calling you slow, Moxxie. God, why don’t you learn to take criticism, you talentless baby dick troll?” He pointed his finger into Moxxie’s chest several times as he spoke.

 An angry Moxxie stood up on the table. “Well why don’t you take an art class?”

 Blitzo grabbed Moxxie by the collar and threw him back onto the chair. “Why don’t you see how expensive they are?!”

 Loona interrupted the argument, still holding her cell phone. “Hey, is there a way I can come with you guys this time?”

 Blitzo crossed his arms in disapproval. “Absolutely not. I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. Spring break is no place for young vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks up there who drool all over you.”

 All four characters glared into the camera, breaking the fourth wall.

 “Well, I can blend in with humans easy enough,” Loona explained. “Just let me tag along.”

 “Wait, say that again,” said Blitzo.

 “I can blend in?” Loona reiterated.

 “You have a human disguise?” Millie asked.

 “Yeah. Don’t you?”

 The three guilty imps nervously looked at each other, eyes darting from side to side.

 “You three have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time, without human disguises?!” Loona asked in disbelief.

 “Okay, new plan!” Blitzo called, rapidly scribbling on a piece of paper. He placed the paper on the easel, showing Loona surrounded by human figures with tiny hearts around them.

 “Loonie can help lure the humans to us and we’ll take care of the rest. Okay how about that?”

 “Flawless logic,” Millie smiled in agreement.

 Moxxie held up a clawed finger. “I think you’re missing the biggest issue, sir. Isn’t it crucial to have a client who demands enough kills to win this bet? We aren’t just going up to massacre.”

 Blitzo smirked in response. “I got that covered, Mox.”

 Not long after, Blitzo stuck a flyer onto a pole. It read “Spring Break Victim 50% Off!” It had a drawing of Blitzo, a dead victim and little cartoon horses.

 Blitzo strode to Moxxie. “Now, we wait.”

 Moxxie shook his head. “Sir, there is no way we are going to get enough clients by the end of the day with one poorly spelled bad grammar flyer!”

 Both Moxxie and Blitzo paused and looked over to see a line of a dozen creatures looking in curiosity at the flyer under the Pride Ring’s blood red sky. They arrived in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some of them were imps and others were sinners. There was a pink fluffy monster with black eyes, an orange fly trap plant wearing librarian glasses, a fox with thick white hair, a humanoid dog with pointed ears and a hook for a hand. Next to a teal lizard lady with dyed hair stood a tall man wearing a blue suit with a deer skull for a head. Even Travis, a gray owl demon, was there.

 Blitzo elbowed Moxxie with a smug grin before strolling over to the other demons. “Now, who’s first?”

  Part Two: At the Beach

 The beach in the human world was alive with humans from everywhere. Men, women and children happily walked around, relaxed under umbrellas, or had snacks. Several surf boards stood up in the sand by a decorated teal wall with a wavy orange design taking up the center. The crowd was positioned between a wooden dock and a makeshift stage. Two women wearing sunglasses got comfortably close and kissed each other in the shade. A muscular dark skinned man talked with a red haired woman while a blonde guy wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap shook a bottle of pills into his mouth. Above the beach lay a small row of shops. One sign read “Pawn Paradise.” One sign read “hotel” in red letters while another sign read “Sea cream” with a teal ice cream cone structure next to it. Another sign read “Pico Puncho Pizza” and another read “Dagon Juice” and had a green fish with a sailor’s cap on it.

 In the shadows under the dock, the I.M.P. crew emerged from algae covered rocks.

 “Now remember, we can’t be seen, alright?” Blitzo reminded them. “And loose shots will likely cause a panic, so Loona can help with leading targets to a better spot to off them. You got the list, Loonie?”

 Loona skimmed the list in her hands and gave it a sniff. “Got it.”

 She dropped the paper, stood up and walked into the light. A rush of swirling blue magic enveloped her before it vanished.

 Loona was now in human form. She opened her red eyes and brushed her thick light gray hair with her hands. She wore her same dark crop top and high black shorts but she now had white skin, two bars in her right ear and a partially shaved head. She had gray eye makeup on and a black choker around her neck. Her pale midriff, arms and legs were visible.

 All three imps stared in amazement.

 “Oh Loonie, look at you!” Blitzo breathed. “You look downright awful!”

 Loona glared at him.

 Blitzo wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m so proud.” He pointed ahead. “Now go fetch!”

 Loona peered in front of her with a hand over her eyebrows to help block out the light. Her target humans were outlined in red in her vision. Loona smirked and strolled over to a tall dark haired muscular man wearing sunglasses. She moved a finger toward his chest and gave him a flirtatious grin. She mentioned behind her to a private alleyway. Loona led him into the alleyway and leaned casually against the wall. The man reached out to grab her in lust but was immediately shot in the head by Blitzo spying on the roof. He gave Loona a thumbs up.

 Later on, a blonde man ran to Loona in an alleyway with a hungry lustful look on his face. He was caught in a noose by Blitzo. A random “music band” poster hung on the wall. On a rooftop, a brown haired man leaned in to kiss Loona, but Millie knocked him off the roof with a kick. The man fell into a green dumpster that Moxxie slammed shut. Loona walked with a fat man down the sidewalk and a flower pot crashed fatally into his head. Blitzo killed a woman with a knife, Millie killed a white haired woman with a spiked baseball bat, and another woman got shot in the head.

 Blitzo and the gang put the bodies in bloodstained dark trash bags, closing them. In the background, Millie happily jumped on another body.

 “That’s nine kills in the bag!” called Blitzo. “I’d like to see that waily snatch orgasm that many…”

 The imps froze when they heard a voice through a microphone. It was Verosika Mayday on stage, in her human form. Her shadowy silhouette in the clearing smoke resembled her demon form. She had blonde hair, tan skin and wore black leggings and high heels. She wore a pink skirt and a matching frilly top that revealed her right shoulder. She had a small black heart on her right cheek. The background lights were pink, giving the appearance of moving hearts. “Verosika Mayday” was on a pink banner overhead. Verosika appeared on two screens on either side of the stage, showing moving hearts of red, pink and white for the background. Six pink spotlights shone on her.

  “All right spring breakers! Are y’all ready get fucked up and make some bitching bad choices?!”

 The crowd cheered in affirmation. A white teen boy with short blonde hair tore off his shirt and yelled “Verosika!” He had her name written in pink on his bare chest.

 Verosika sang her song:

 “All aboard

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown

 V-time, free time, baby relax

Self-care, no hair, Brazilian wax

Hardtop succu-bus to the beach

Catch some rays while catching some D

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown

 Hot dog, hot bod, sausage and buns

Threesome, fivesome, having some fun

Back to my place, welcome to Hell

Sun’s out, hormones out, how does it smell?

 Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay babe

Take it straight to Bonetown”

  Verosika performed her song on stage and took a drink from her bottle. “Fuck you Blitzo” appeared on the screens as Blitzo seethed. The humans made out with others around them. The humans kissed, hugged, and gave each other anal. One dark woman succubus showed a love-struck man a popsicle with semen-like saliva on it. She grinned and threw herself onto the human male. An incubi with dark hair in human form smiled and snapped his fingers at a blonde man…his sunglasses fell off his surprised sunburned face. Several more succubi and incubi grinned and snuck up on the humans.

 Blitzo was furious. “God dammit, that bitch started her godish mating call! Now she’s gonna win all those sex maniacs. We gotta pick things up, guys! He on the list, Loonie?”

 Blitzo mentioned to a vomiting long haired blonde man in boxer shorts.

 Loona appeared distracted, not even looking at him. “Huh? Yeah I think so.” Loona was staring at a tall muscular black skinned bouncer by the stage: a human Vortex.

 “Good!” Blitzo called.

 The blonde man looked up at Blitzo in a stupor.

 “Whoa, what are you? A leprechaun? Hahaha!”

 Blitzo raised a sharp black and red ax. “Oh yeah, pretty cool, huh?”

 Blitzo smashed the man’s head open with the ax, causing blood and brains to splatter.

 “But you sure as shit ain’t gonna tell nobody.” He looked over. “All right, next one, Loonie, come on.”

 Blitzo rapidly glanced around, but Loona wasn’t where she was a moment before.

 “Where’s my baby?!” he cried in a panic. Millie pointed toward the stage. “Look!”

 Loona nervously made her way through the crowd, avoiding a French-kissing couple and tossing aside a bra that landed on her head. A squealing fanboy ran toward Verosika but Vortex punched him into the ground, head first. He dragged the teen away in the distance as Loona watched. A male incubus appeared as a white skinned human with short white hair. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at her. With a roll of her eyes, Loona landed an uppercut on his chin, causing him to fall.  

 “Now, who wants a piece of this?” Verosika called as she took one last gulp.

 She tossed her flask into the ocean, creating a small golden portal. A fish appeared, which rapidly grew in size.

 Loona walked sideways over toward Vortex.

  “Hey, you,” she tried.

 “Hey,” Vortex replied. “You’re the hound working for my boss’s freaky ex.”

 “Yeah. Sorry if that’s weird.”

 “It’s cool,” he shrugged. “Her beef ain’t mine. I’m not paid enough to care.”

 Loona laughed nervously. “Yeah. Yeah.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m Loona!”

 “Okay.” In her giddy tone he repeated, “I’m Vortex!” Both chuckled.

 “That’s hot,” Loona said with a grin. Then her face turned red and flustered. “I mean like literally you know because vortexes, you know, they give off heat. Probably.” She pointed both fingers in a snap, trying to act cool.

 Vortex chuckled lightly. “Uh, yeah. I guess. But my friends call me Tex.”

 “Oh yeah. I wish I had friends. I mean no, I mean, I don’t. I…I don’t have friends.”

 Just then, Blitzo arrived, moving himself between them.

 “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Nah man. Just having a conversation,” Vortex replied.

 Blitzo narrowed his eyes and wagged a finger at him. “’Conversation’ leads to HPV!” Loona clenched her fists in frustration.

  Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie hid behind several metal beer barrels.

 “And… we lost him,” Moxxie declared. “Huh, it’s looking like it’s up to us handle this list.”

 Millie’s face shone in excitement. “Hell yeah! Team M and M, getting shit down, making the money!”

 Moxxie and Millie ran off holding hands in the sunset and killed more people. A sign read “Senpai, notice me.”

  Loona pinched her nose. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Loona said to Blitzo in concern. “You’re gonna get us all into shit.”

 “I just wanted to see what was so important that you’d be distracted from your job.”

 Loona angrily pulled Blitzo away from Vortex.

 “What, I can’t have a break?”

 Blitzo yelled at the top of his lungs. “We have a parking spot on the line!”

 “Hey dude,” Vortex mentioned as he walked over. “Why don’t you chill out?”

 Blitzo wagged a finger. “Why don’t you stay out of it?”

 He turned back to Loona.

 “Okay, this is our business.” He pointed to the ground and in his tail was a drawing of Blitzo killing a person, a horse followed by an equal sign and dollar signs. “Literally.”

 Loona clenched her fists and briefly leaned forward in anger. “Oh fuck Blitzo! Why can’t you stay out of my face for like five minutes?!”

  “Because I adopted you! And that should mean something.”

  “Oh what does it matter? You’re not my real dad! I was almost eighteen.”

 “It still counts.”

 “Well it shouldn’t. I didn’t need you then, asshole! I don’t need you now.”

 A tense silence followed. Both of them crossed their arms, their backs to each other. Both faces showed hurt expressions.

 As a young pup, Loona had been left to fend for herself by her real neglectful parents. She had lived a life of meth addiction, sex, fighting and insecurity with no real friends. Blitzo was perhaps the first person to truly care about her. He took her in as a teen and adopted her…and she had worked at I.M.P. ever since. Loona already felt bad at what she had just said. But there was no taking it back.

 She stuttered, trying to say something.

 “Uh, Blitzo…I…”

 “Enjoy your break, Loonie,” he replied. “I’m gonna go kill something.”

 Loona sighed sadly as he left.

 “Damn, girl. That was savage,” Vortex remarked sympathetically. He placed a large comforting hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

 Loona blushed heavily, forcing a smile.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. He’ll get over it. He usually does.”

 “I’m glad you could stick up for yourself, at least,” Vortex mentioned. “Hmm. Takes guts.”

 “Thanks,” Loona smiled.

  Meanwhile, Moxxie looked to the left and right from behind the beer cans on a table. Beer can and bottles were everywhere. Moxxie ducked back behind them, watching as Millie loaded her crossbow. The two imps smiled and kissed.

 A man with a baseball cap, sunglasses and a tie-dye shirt that read “Kool” threw down a beer can. “Yeah! Party!” he yelled. The man pointed both fingers in the air and then promptly flipped the table, sending the imps flying. Moxxie landed on the ground as the beachgoers stepped back.

 “Eww!” exclaimed a red haired woman in disgust, pointing down at him. “Oh my god! It’s a fucking possum!”

 Moxxie tried to scurry off, but a man picked him up. “Oh crumbs!”

 “I got it!” called the guy with “Kool” on his shirt, holding up Moxxie in the air. A muscular blonde man held a large beer barrel. The first guy tossed Moxxie inside while the second one closed the lid. “We put him in the keg,” one of them said. The other people cheered as Moxxie was carried away. “Beer is awesome!” they cheered. While he was inside, he gulped down the beer around him. The people tossed the barrel and played catch with it before leaving it behind.

 Millie dashed from behind the beer cans, arriving at the barrel Moxxie was in. The barrel wobbled, surprising Millie. She placed her ear to it before tipping it over. Moxxie spilled out on his back with the remaining beer.

 “Moxxie!” Millie cried.

 “Millie! Hi! Hey!” Moxxie slurred, rolling onto his back and looking at her upside down. “Hey, when did you get four heads? I wanna kiss ‘em!”

 He made smooching noises before Millie picked him up.

   Suddenly, a large gush of water rose up from behind them. A dark shadow passed over their faces, darkening the sky. The humans glanced up in shock. Even the demon gang and Verosika looked on in fear and surprise. A woman pointed upwards and several people ran off. A giant foot crushed a man lying on a turtle towel. Blood splattered everywhere and onto the crowd of humans. Another woman screamed and the humans ran for their lives. Blitzo was in the process of chocking a drinking man from behind, when he, too, stopped to look.

 It was a giant black Leviathan fish monster!

 The fish had large teal eyes, fins, white whiskers and dozens of blue sharp teeth. The beast let out a fierce, ear-shattering roar.

 “Oooh, fish,” Moxxie grinned stupidly in his drunken haze.

 Like a deadly vine, a long spiked tongue wrapped around Moxxie and pulled him toward the fish. Millie watched in horror as Moxxie was wrapped up above the large maw before the fish snapped its jaws shut.

 Millie got into a fighting stance. She glanced to her left and spotted a fat man drinking and wearing sunglasses. She stabbed him with a knife and tore off a piece of his towel. With her knife in her mouth, she lit the cloth on fire over a vodka bottle, creating a Molotov cocktail. Millie tossed it toward the monster, sending the fish stumbling and crashing down into the sea.

 Wasting no time, Millie swam toward the monster and cut upwards along its scaly body with her knife. Using all her strength, she pried open the monster’s mouth. Moxxie was punching the monster’s uvula, still wrapped up in the tongue.

 Millie reached for him with her hand. Moxxie reached too, then gave her a high five. Millie grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him up. She used her other hand and foot to support herself on the monster’s teeth. She pulled as hard as he could, but Moxxie wouldn’t budge.

 Just when she lost her grip, she slashed her knife across the tongue, slicing a piece off. In a roar of pain, the monster spat Moxxie out. Moxxie spread out his arms, enjoying the feeling of flying. Back on the beach, a man flinched as the tongue piece landed on the ground. Moxxie landed in Blitzo’s arms. The man cheered before Blitzo shot him with a gun. Moxxie cheered drunkenly.

  Back inside the monster’s mouth, Millie rapidly punched at the tongue, trying to get out. The monster roared in pain and anger, slashing around as Millie wrestled with it.

 “I love that woman!” Moxxie declared.

 Blitzo smirked. “Oh she totally pegs you, doesn’t she?” Indeed, Millie was dominant in the bedroom and Moxxie loved it.

 Millie leapt into the air, knife aimed downward. She fell back inside the mouth…then sliced off the fish’s head from the inside. A gush of blood flowed out from the monster before it landed with a final thud into the water. Millie walked back to shore and dropped her knife, exhausted.

 Blitzo and Moxxie cheered. “Oh yeah, way to show off, Mils!” Blitzo called.

 “Is Mox okay?” Millie panted.

 Blitzo glanced at the drunken Moxxie. “Oh yeah, he’s fine,” he casually said before dropping him onto the sand.

 Millie raced over and held Moxxie in her arms.

 Moxxie grinned at Millie with a doped expression. “This is funny. I’m soooo… drinky.”

 Millie just smiled and hugged him.

 Blitzo scowled and crossed his arms. “Okay, this is too wholesome for my liking.”

 “Blitzo!” Verosika called.

 “Oh perfect,” he said sarcastically. He turned around to the human-disguised gang of seducer demons. “That must be the whores!”

 Verosika was flanked by four succubi and an incubi disguised as humans. “That was handled rather…obvious, don’t you think?” She grinned a smug grin.

 Millie held up Verosika’s flask. “I don’t think this belonged to any of us.”

 Millie tossed the flask to Verosika who caught it with one hand. She dropped it into one of the succubus’ hands.

 “Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world,” Millie added with a grin.

 Even Moxxie laughed out loud, pointing at them. “Oh Satan! You all be so fucked!”

 Verosika briefly looked concerned, then sneered. “Yeah, well you three nasty ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises.”

 Moxxie fell to his knees and face-planted into the sand. He lifted his head up. “A human called me a possum. I am not a possum.” He face-planted again.

 Blitzo stepped forward and moved Moxxie out of the way with a foot. “You know, we could keep this little B movie scene on the down low if you agree to let us use that parking space.”

 Verosika, not wanting to get in trouble, relented with a sigh. “Fine.”

 Blitzo raised both arms in the air. “We fucking won!”

 “Fuck yeah!” Millie cheered.

 “In your face, bitch!” Blitzo taunted Verosika, who scowled.

 She glared at Blitzo one last time. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Tex!”

 Vortex stood with Loona not too far from the empty stage. “Well, guess it’s time to bounce, but hey, if you’re ever down to party, I’ll give you a ring sometime.”

 Loona smiled in excitement. “Really? I mean, Yeah. Yeah.”

 “Yeah. My girlfriend throws a ton of crazy hound parties.”

 “Nice. Can’t wait for my first one.”

 “Let’s get you some friends, girl.”

 Vortex gave her a playful punch before following Veroskia. Loona looked downcast at seeing Vortex leave and being reminded of her confrontation with Blitzo. Vortex already had a girlfriend and he wasn’t coming with her. Now she would go back to doing her usual secretary work. With Hell being “every demon for themselves,” it was hard to make true friends, especially if one was of lower class and lost in dark thoughts all the time. Loona could not deny to herself that she often felt like a lone wolf.

 Millie carried Moxxie and jumped into the portal.

 “Come on, Loonie tooney!” Blitzo called to her. “Let’s go back and park our fat fucking car in our fat fucking space!” He ran off into the portal.

 Loona followed Blitzo and fell through the portal on her back.

 Blitzo mockingly gave Verosika double middle fingers through the portal from behind her. Verosika growled in anger after noticing. She and her gang made their way up the stairs and onto the street.

 A policeman yelled, “Put your hands up, you sick deviants!”

 The gang huddled in fear as guns were trained on them. They were surrounded by police cars, a SWAT team, men on horses and a helicopter. A clown and a mime robot were also with the police.

 Verosika sighed in defeat. “Alright, sluts, get ready to suck a lot of pig dick.”

Her gang members groaned in disgust as they raised their hands in surrender.

#helluvaboss #hazbinhotel