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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

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Hazbin Hotel Pilot: Gender Reverse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re too young to understand.”

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

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

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

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

“No! I can’t.”

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

Failure.

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

He raced away crying, it was all too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The demon prince sang his lament:

“At the end of the rainbow there’s happiness

And to find it how often I’ve tried

But my life is a race

Just a wild goose chase

And my dreams have all been denied”

“A ray of hope in this world of black

I wish the world to be free of sin

But no matter how I try

I can’t get by

And no matter what I never seem to win”

“Why have I always been a failure?

What can the reason be?

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching the clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like all my dreams

Ending in the sky”

“Some fellows look and find the sunshine

I always look and find the rain

Some fellows make a winning sometime

I never even make the game

Believe me”

“Will this world be a better place?

Or will loss never go away?

The choice I face

Me a disgrace

A loss of hope, here to stay”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Watching the clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like all my dreams

Ending in the sky”

“I’m always chasing rainbows

Waiting to find a little bluebird

In vain”

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

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

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

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

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

Valentina looked at her phone in annoyance.

Valentina: Did you get my money, Angie Baby?

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

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

Angela Dust: Yes, Val.

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

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

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

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

“The Spider In Kinky Boots”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah listen,” Angela said, closing the door and facing Tracy, “Keep this discreet, hear me? I can’t let it get out I’m offering my services to randos on the street. It was a quick cash crab, ya got that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coke

Bojack

McWeedies420

Squip

Hero-in

Krunchy Krokodil

Angel Dust

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

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

“Hey!” Angela yelled.

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

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

“My drugs! Damn it!”

“Something Rotten”

Angela turned around and spotted a flying metal aircraft, which was firing lasers at buildings. It looked like an industrial rocket ship made with gears and a steampunk style to it. A metal hook hung from the bottom of it. The lasers struck the buildings, which caused bright pink explosions to fill the air.

From inside the ship, a serpent Overlord stood high above over the controls, laughing manically. Down below, her deviled egg minions stood and watched. Each of them wore black round hats with bows on them and pinstriped round clothing. They were called Egg Grls.

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

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

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

Up on the platform, the serpent oriented two levers in her hands, the control button in the center displaying a pentagram design.

“Those other cowardly sinners dare not hinder my territorial takeover! A wise decision. The power of my machines are unmatched! No other demon can compare to the likes of I!”

One egg minion with #23 on her back added, “Gee that was pretty swell boss!”

“Yeah!” another chimed in: #666.

“You really showed them what for!” called a third.

Another minion teasingly ran her fingers up the Overlord’s spine. “I like it when you shot them with your ray gun…”

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

Madam Zmeya rolled her eyes at her minions. She turned back to the controls and grinned. Pentagram circles revealed the areas she had taken over and the other territories ahead.

“At this rate, I will seize control of the entire west side of the Pentagram by day’s end!”

She laughed and bragged some more. “And nothing, not a single beast in this inferno of suffering, will be able to take back this empire from my constrictive grasp!”

As to prove her point, she grabbed a minion in her tail and tightly squeezed her.

Another minion blew a noisemaker and then popped open a blue bottle of a brown drink. The Overlord threw the minion across the room as the eggs celebrated down below.

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

“Scaly lady!” yelled a voice.

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

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

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

The minions shook in fear.

“Speak up!” she hissed.

“It wasn’t us, miss boss woman!” said a minion.

Just then, an object shot through the glass at the front, creating a small hole. A small pink bomb with a black skull on the front, landed on the floor. Madam Zmeya observed it for a moment…the bomb looked like a cherry…which could only mean…

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

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

Madam Zmeya coughed and swiped some of the smoke away.

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

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

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

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

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

“…more,” he finished.

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

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

But Chere Bomb just scoffed. With graceful leaps, he avoided the blasts and threw down another bomb. He used the cover to escape, jumping down and swinging once from the anchor at the bottom of the flying craft. Landing gracefully on the ground, he continued his assault from below.

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

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

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

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

“Why you little…”

Chere Bomb ducked as another egg sailed over his head.

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

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

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

Another pink explosion filled the air as the fight continued.

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

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

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

A pink explosion rocked the streets.

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

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

Angela continued, “I’ve been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some hunks are lettin’ me stay rent-free if I play nice.” They covered their ears.

A column of green smoke rose into the air with a fiery whoosh. The duo leaped over the rock and charged at the army of egg minions. Using four arms, Angela Dust fired rapidly from a gun at the minions, making some of them explode.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm! Kinky!” Angela teased.

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

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

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

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

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

The villain didn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After several more minutes of battle, Madam Zmeya and her remaining minions retreated back to their ship. “This isn’t over, sluts!” she declared at her enemies. “I’ll have my revenge!” The ship hatch closed. The egg minions steered the ship and it rose into the air, almost sending the Overlord flying out of the craft. She tossed out more minions in response before taking the controls and flying the craft away.

Angela and Chere Bomb high-fived.

“See you around,” Chere said.

“Until the next brawl,” said Angela.

Chere Bomb waved goodbye and blasted music from an Eye Pod (a device made from an actual moving eye. “Hello, daddy. Hello mom. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Hello world! I’m your wild boy. I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!” he sang out loud. Angela Dust laughed and continued on her way.

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

“Morning Report”

Transcript during the 666 News:

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

A neon logo appeared on the screen, displaying “666 News” in a circle with a neon eye underneath. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

A skeletal demon man with short blonde hair and a large toothy grin stood wearing a dark pink fancy suit with a tie. Sitting at the other chair, dressed in a blue-gray business dress was a demon with a gray gas mask for a face along with long light blonde hair. They were live on the air.

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

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

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

“That’s right Tam!” Karter added. “After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!”

The clips showed Madam Zmeya fighting Chere Bomb with her egg minions.

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

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

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

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

“No pussy!”

“Augh! Not again!” she groaned.

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

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

Tam Trench winced in pain on the desk.

“All that and more after the break!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tossed a donut aside before gasping.

“Oh! What if I…”

“Sing a song about it?” Vaggus finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vaggus somehow knew that this would not end well.

“Biggest Blame Fool”

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

“Hi! I’m Charlie.”

He waved and held out his hand.

“Karter Killjoy,” the man deadpanned before blowing out smoke and snapping his cigarette. “I’d say it’s a ‘pleasure’ to meet you, but that would be a lie. You can put that away,” he regarded Charlie’s hand. “I don’t touch the gays. I have standards.”

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

“Look, my time is money, so I’ll keep this short,” Karter cut in. He invasively tapped Charlie’s chest and nose with his finger. “We’re not here because we wanted you here. You’re here because Amelia couldn’t make it for her infanticide segment.”

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

Karter slicked back his hair, flexed his thin arms, and continued: “You might be some royal bigshot, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m too rich and too influential to give a flying fuck about what some tux-wearing demon “prince” wants to advertise.”

“But I…” Charlie began.

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

“And we’re live!” said a voice.

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

“Welcome back!”

Charlie sat in a chair next to him.

“So, Prince Charles Magne…”

“It’s Charlie,” he squeaked.

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

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

Charlie took a deep breath, his voice soft spoken.

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

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

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

Vaggus gave him a thumbs up and a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

The audience stared in stunned silence as Charlie raised his arms. Not even the flesh-eating crickets were chirping through the awkward quiet.

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

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

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

A tattooed dark blue reptile demon stood up and let out a loud laugh.

“Is this guy for real? He thinks, you hear what he thinks? He…heh, heh, heh, oh he’s nuts.” The demon walked away with a small lavender creature and a tall maroon being wearing punk rock clothing and crazy neon hair.

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

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

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

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

“Who, me? ‘Obviously’ not! I’d never put on a show and make other demons flee to their graves.”

Just the thought of it got her excited.

She had heard of the demon prince before, but she wasn’t expecting him to appear on TV. She certainly never heard of an idea so crazy before. Making sinners good people was even less likely than making pigs fly (which was one magic trick she could easily do).

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

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

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

The sorceress knew where she would go next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summoning the Disney prince within him, Charlie belted out his song:

“I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a wonderful, fantastic new hotel

Yes, it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to a specific clientele”

Shimmer and Glimmer howled along…

The tempo rapidly picked up…

“Inside of every demon is a rainbow

Inside every sinner is a shiny smile

Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac

Is a jolly, happy cupcake-loving child”

“We can turn around

They’ll be heaven-bound!

With just a little time

Down at the Happy Hotel!”

“So all you junkies, freaks and weirdos

Creepers, fuck-ups, crooks, and zeroes

And the fallen superheroes, help is here!

All of you cretins, sluts and losers

Sexual deviants and boozers

And prescription drug abusers

Need not fear

Forever again

We’ll cure your sin

We’ll make you well

You’ll feel so swell

Right here in Hell at the Happy Hotel!”

“There’ll be no more fire

And there’ll be no more screams

Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams

And puffy-wuffy clouds

You’re gonna be all like, wow!

Once you check in with me!”

“So all your cartoon porn addictions

Vegan rants, psychic predictions

Ancient Roman crucifixions

End right here!”

“All you monsters, thieves and crazies

Cannibals and crying babies

Frothing mouthers full of rabies

Fill with cheer!”

“You’ll be complete!

It’ll be so neat!

Our service can’t be beat!

You’ll be on easy street! (Yes!)

Life will be sweet at the Happy Hotel!

Yeah!”

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

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

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

Throwing away demon’s cell phones…

Knocking over crosses…

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

Giving demons big hugs…

Charlie emerging in his horned demon form from a flaming pentagram, and jumping with joy in a land full of candy, rainbows, and ice cream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh just someone named…Angela Dust.”

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

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

Someone wolf-whistled in the audience.

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

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

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

“Oh shit,” Charlie breathed.

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

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

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

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

“Ratings!” they added with jazz hands.

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

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

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

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

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

Tam leaped out of the way.

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

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

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

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

“Your Fault”

Charlie had never felt so humiliated in his life. He sat in his seat and curled into himself. Once again, his ideas were dismissed, mocked, ridiculed. No one was willing to see the good in themselves. The demons were content to wallow in suffering, violence, and cruelty until the end of their afterlives. Tears were already threatening to spill from his yellow eyes, but he held them in.

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

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

He got a sad sigh from Charlie in response. “I just wanted to make things better for my people. I know I don’t feel much like a prince, but at the same time…I feel like it’s my duty…my destiny to being some cheer to this place.”

“Heh. No one can ever top your optimism,” Vaggus mentioned, with a playful roll of his eyes. “Your happiness can be spotted miles away.”

A small smile formed on Charlie’s face. “Well, at least I can pull myself up and keep going…”

Vaggus stared, hopeful…

“…But today isn’t one of those days.”

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

“I couldn’t help it,” he countered. “How else was I supposed to get my message across?”

“Not everyone likes singing and music all the time.”

“My family does.”

“But the other demons aren’t your family.”

Charlie stared out the window at the buildings whizzing by. “Sometimes I feel like my family is bigger than just my parents.” He turned to look at his boyfriend. “You’re my best friend, sorta like my older brother…and the only one who seems to get me. You’re part of my family already.”

Vaggus chuckled softly. “Without me, you wouldn’t have lasted very long out in the big world.”

“For once, I agree with you there,” Charlie replied.

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

“Don’t get too discouraged,” Vaggus said. “We’ll get back to the hotel and figure things out from there.”

“I kinda feel like singing another lament now.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.”

The limo drove past the 666 Shop, the Nightmare Night Club, and an Evil Donuts store, complete with slime and worms displayed on the donut structure. Pink eyes decorated the ceiling of the car. Charlie curled into himself again, and took a puff of a breath. Even the painted eyes seemed to judge his every move. He glanced over at Vaggus, whose eye was twitching in annoyance.

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

“What?” Angela asked with a shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw come on, I had to!” Angela protested. “My credibility was on the line!” She sighed. “I mean what kind of reputation would I have of people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona.” She lifted up her furry chest, bouncing her white furry breasts up and down.

“Your credibility?” Vaggus asked in anger. “What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like a fucking joke!”

“No, no no, babe. Jokes are funny! I made you look…uh, sad. And pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms. Or legs. Uh…oh with progeria!” Charlie covered his face with his hands as Angela blabbered on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vaggus swore in Spanish.

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

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

Angela laughed then yelled “Hey!” in protest. “This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie pulled off his dark pink shirt, revealing a white shirt with a black bowtie.

“Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Vaggus. It’ll be okay!”

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

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

“Get a room, boys!” Angela remarked, before receiving a “Shut up!” from both of them.

Finally, the deviant crew arrived at the Happy Hotel. It was an elegant building fit for any demon who wanted to stay a few nights. Eye designs lined the border of a dark pink circus canopy at the front like a creepy mosaic. Branches jutted out from the roof as part of the structure. Old fashioned lanterns attached to the wall had flames flickering inside, nonstop. The double doors consisted of stained glass windows with red apples in the center. Little stained glass snake eyes peered unblinkingly at them from around the larger window in the door.

Angela, Vaggus, and Charlie got out of the car and threw open the double doors. A random black bug scurried away from the incoming light. A yellow sign read “Concierge” behind a pink “welcome” banner. The check in table was decorated with colored flags leaning toward the floor and random balloons with small star shapes on them. A vase was decorated with yellow eyes along the sides. Another flower pot was in the shape of a human mouth…white flowers posed above. Vaggus sighed and plopped onto a red cushioned couch in the style of a monster’s mouth.

The red rug down the hallway was decorated with the same eyeball designs, apples on the end, plus shadow skulls of horned monsters in the center.

All around the room, were pictures of Charlie as a little boy with his father and mother on various trips. One picture showed him and Vaggus in front of a castle at Loo-Loo World, Hells’ version of Disney World.

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

“It’s prolly a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here.” She laughed nervously, trying to cheer Charlie up. But Charlie just sat sadly on a wooden box in a darkened area of the room. Angela closed the fridge door, sucked on a popsicle and reached out one of her arms to him…then hesitated. She walked away, letting him have some alone time.

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

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

“Hey Dad. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must be busy. Really busy. But, um…the interview didn’t go well and…I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Dad.”

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

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

What was he supposed to do now?

“Let’s Misbehave”

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell…”

Charlie slammed the door in her face.

Opened the door…

“…o.”

Slammed it again.

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

“Well… that was…rude,” she thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

“Hey, Vaggus?” Charlie called.

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

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

“What?!” he demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

“You may…” Charlie replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials as radio static filled the room. She tilted her head slightly, letting her chaotic magic roam. Vaggus and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastra shook her head, eyes back to full red. Her eyes had briefly been black with red pupils.

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

Charlie was sure he hadn’t heard her right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

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

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

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

Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

“I want to help you run it.”

“Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

She laughed again, spreading out her arms.

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

Alastra laughed again. “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

She smiled and titled her head.

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

Alastra help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!”

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

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

She spread out her arms. “There is no undoing what is done!”

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

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

She pulled Charlie close to her with her arm and twirled the shorter demon around in a quick dance. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure.” Her eyes glowed red in pleasure.

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

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

“A Cautionary Tale”

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

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

Angela shrugged her shoulders.

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

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

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

“Decades ago, Alastra manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. She began to topple Overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power has never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, she broadcast her carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness her ability. Sinners started calling her The Radio Demon. (As lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled her to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: She’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we cannot risk getting involved with, unless we want to end up erased.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charlie, listen to me. You can’t believe this creep! She isn’t just a happy face! She’s a dealmaker, pure evil! She can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

“I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know she’s bad, and I know she probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

Alastra stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucinda dressed in white, Lilium in a dark purple suit, and Charlie as a little boy wearing a brown and white suit in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

“Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

“Just trust me,” Charlie added, placing comforting hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

Gathering his courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

“Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

Red Voodoo symbols appeared around a grinning Alastra, then vanished. Charlie glanced back at her with narrowed eyes.

Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

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

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

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

Charlie decided to try another approach.

“As prince of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She walked over towards Angela.

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

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

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

“Ha! No.” Alastra deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alastra looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

“So fortunate of me to have met him in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard he died from being burned alive in a fireplace. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give him much of an option to begin with…”

Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. She had black and white fur, fluffy breasts, wore a black round hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. She also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

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

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

“Full…whoa!”

“Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

She ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

The cat demon figured she must have had too much booze to drink.

“…the hell?”

As the images faded, she soon found herself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind her. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. She was sitting in a portion of the casino she was in. It felt like she was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

“What the fuck is this?”

She saw Alastra and pointed an accusing claw.

“You!”

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

Alastra’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When she moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the pillars supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

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

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

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

“Good to see you too!” added Alastra.

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

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

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

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

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

Shell shoved the Radio Demon off her, the latter casually dusting off her red sleeves. She puffed up her black and white fur in anger, her cat ears twitching. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

“Maybe,” Alastra grinned.

Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

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

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

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

“With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

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

“…this job was made for you!”

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

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

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

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

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

She immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

“Too easy,” thought Alastra.

By this time, Charlie, Vaggus and Angela Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggus rushed toward the bar, furious.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…brothel, sinful, lady lounge …”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what do you think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a dream

You want us to know”

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

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

“And it’s so ridiculous…”

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

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

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

“Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon beau!”

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

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

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

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

Alastra appeared beside the bar table near Shell and Angela.

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

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

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

“Just a smile!” the spirits repeated.

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

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

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

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!”

“Class and style!” sang the shadows.

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

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

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

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

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

“As we spend a little time…”

Alastra let go and prepared to finish.

“Down at this Hazbin ho…”

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

“Madam Zmeya Fucking Dies”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

Madam Zmeya looked on in shock as her Egg Grls slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Madam Zmeya and another minion were thrown against the wall.

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

“Ow, that hurt!” she cried.

Madam Zmeya screamed as she was forcefully dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. She was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Grls ran around frantically, screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

“Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

Red radio waves filled Alastra’s eyes as she curled her fingers inward. The sky vanished, replaced with red. Hovering red voodoo symbols appeared all around her as she altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

“Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

Alastra closed her four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from her glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastra smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Preppy who had a small smile on his face).

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

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

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

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

From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.

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

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

The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

“Stay tuned,” she finished with a low sinister laugh.

Back at the crater, smoke took the faces of demons and rose into the air. Broken egg minions littered the ground. One minion rubbed her head. With a shaking arm, Madam Zmeya lifted herself up from the gaping hole, fangs shattered, eye swollen.

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

Madam Zmeya face-planted on the ground in response.

#hazbinhotel #rule63 #genderreverse

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kmomof4 · 4 years

Text

Operation Secret Santa

And that is not just the title to the fic! Hello @teeandsnowflakes, I was your CS Secret Santa this year! It’s been so much fun chatting with you this month! I hope you’re enjoying your Christmas break and that you like this little fic I’ve written for you! I had planned a series of scenes showcasing CS getting ready for the holidays, but then presents showed up and the fic went in an entirely new direction. I still tried to incorporate some of your favorite Christmas things though and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! I also hope you have a wonderful Christmas! Thank you to @cssecretsanta2k19 for organizing this fun event and to @profdanglaisstuff for beta services!

And now for your gift Tee! Merry Christmas!!!

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

ao3 link

Operation Secret Santa “Just a little more to the right, Killian,” Emma instructed, waving her hands in front of her as if her husband, who was currently hidden behind the newly cut Christmas tree, could see her.

Killian spit out the pine needles that he’d gotten a mouthful of as he tilted the tree to the right. He was so surrounded by the spicy scent of pine and scratchy branches that he could barely tell which way was up, much less whether it was straight or not.

“No, no, no Killian, the other right… my right,” she admonished, when the tree hovered precariously near the point of no return in its potential, imminent journey to the floor.

Killian huffed. “Well, how am I supposed to know that darling?” he groused affectionately as he straightened the tree up in the stand. “Ok lad, crawl under there and screw the trunk in place,” he said to Henry who was trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to smother his laughter at his mother, who looked to him to be trying to take flight, and his step-father who he couldn’t even see properly behind the evergreen.

Henry crawled underneath the tree and proceeded to twist the screws into the trunk. Crawling back out, he was greeted with bright, happy smiles from his parents that he immediately returned. He turned around with a flourish of his arm. “Behold, the first annual Swan-Jones Christmas tree! Now for lights and ornaments!” He dashed off toward the basement to collect the boxes of decorations that had come with them from New York and that he and Emma had collected after the Final Battle in anticipation of their first Christmas as a fully intact family.

“Need some help, lad,” Killian called down when the teenager didn’t immediately reappear.

“Uh, yeah,” Henry called back, a note of, something, in his voice. “There’s more down here than I remember.”

With a cheeky grin at his wife, Killian sauntered over to the basement and disappeared down the stairs.

When Killian also didn’t reappear, Emma started down the stairs. “What’s taking you guys so lo- ohhh!” she exclaimed. For in front of her eyes and filling the basement were boxes upon boxes of not just Christmas decorations, but presents. Lots and lots of presents. Wrapped up in brightly colored paper, topped with sparkly bows and tags with the names Emma, Henry, and Killian.

Emma stared, slack jawed at the sight. There were enough presents here to make up for all the lonely years growing up when she was lucky if she got one present. And as an adult as well, when the only presents she ever got was if she bought them herself. Killian moved forward from the foot of the stairs to the first gift with his name on it. He ripped the paper and deftly opened the box with his hook. Looking inside, his eyes got as big as, well, a child’s at Christmas. His mouth opened and shut several times, before she finally asked, “What is it?”

He swallowed heavily before bringing it over to them. Peering down into the box, they found a soft, black teddy bear. A bear that was missing an eye, but otherwise was completely whole. Tears were gathering in his eyes as he explained, “He was mine… be…” he rubbed his hand over his face before continuing, “before Flint threw him overboard. Said only babies had those. I remember the day he lost the eye. I just couldn’t leave the loose thread alone and it came off in my hand. I cried for hours thinking I’d ruined him.” Emma gathered him in her arms as a barking sob escaped him. “I never thought I’d see him again,” he cried, his words muffled into her shoulder. “Where did this come from?” He raised his head from her shoulder and turned his inquiring eyes back to the piles of boxes.

Emma shook her head slowly. “I have no idea, Killian,” she said in awe, slowly making her way over to a gift with her name on it. After opening her own, she could feel her own tears gathering. She could feel her husband and son come up behind her on either side before she turned to them. “It’s a wooden music box. I remember seeing it in a catalog when I was about 10. It had Disney characters carved into the sides and played “When You Wish Upon a Star.” I remember thinking that surely wishing on a star and having that music box would mean that my parents would find me and take me home.” Now it was her turn to be enveloped in two pairs of strong arms and to feel the tears escape.

“And now you have, Swan,” Killian murmured into her hair before placing a gentle kiss there. “Your turn lad,” he nodded, encouragingly.

Henry untangled himself from their embrace and slowly walked to the pile of presents. Picking up a large gaily decorated box, he opened it. Inside he found The Chronicles of Narnia. The entire series. In hardback. He held up The Magician’s Nephew to his parents, stunned. “This was at the top of my Christmas list when I was eight. My other mom never really listened to what I wanted for Christmas or birthdays before I brought you home, Mom. I think she gave me a remote control car for Christmas that year. Along with an art set and some other books that I couldn’t care less about. How can this be?” he asked, incredulously. “Could Santa be real too?”

“Given the denizens of our fair hamlet, I’d have to admit to a sneaking suspicion that he is,” Killian speculated.

“But who?” Emma interjected. “Who could it be?” She turned her emerald gaze upon Killian first, then Henry.

A smirk broke Henry’s face and his eyes twinkled. “Sounds like Operation Secret Santa to me!”

Killian’s anticipatory grin could have lit up the Christmas tree all by itself. “A fine name for the operation, my boy!” He turned his eyes upon Emma. “Are you in, Swan?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” she barked, “I’m the OG Operation cohort! Of course, I’m in!”

“All right!” Henry gave an enthusiastic fist pump. “Let’s get the rest of these gifts upstairs and the tree decorated, then Operation Secret Santa can commence!”

“Let’s go,” Emma agreed. Picking up as many boxes as they could hold, they moved back to the main floor of the house.

~*~*~

All of Storybrooke had gathered at Granny’s on Christmas Eve for a blowout Christmas party that rivaled any yuletide ball held in the Enchanted Forest. This was the first time since the original curse broke that they’d been able to celebrate Christmas, what with villians running amok and general magical mayhem. Granny’s was decorated with every tacky Christmas decoration you could possibly think of, from the tree in the corner covered with brightly colored lights, balls, and tinsel, tinseled garlands strung across the windows to the kitchen, balls of holly and mistletoe holding up the garlands and in every doorway, fake snow on the counters and a fairytale village in the front window. With the jukebox playing Celine Dion’s recording of O Holy Night, Emma looked around at all her friends and family talking, dancing, and eating their way through Granny’s bountiful Christmas buffet. Catching Henry’s eye, she joined him at the jukebox.

“Well?” she asked, “What do you think? Have you gathered any clues on who Santa could be?”

“None,” he answered. “But, everyone has had the same thing that happened to us, happen to them.”

“Really,” Emma exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he began, “Ashley, Shawn, and even Alexandra got a pile of presents. Ariel and Eric, Grandma and Grandpa, Mom, Zelena, and Robin, Archie, Pongo, even the fairies! No one’s been left out.”

“Hmmmm…”

“But, from what I can tell, everyone’s gotten presents based on the years of the curse, or…” he trailed away with a puzzled look on his brow, “their years as a hero. For instance, Mom only had six presents, the years since the curse broke, and Zelena had even less, but Robin had two, since she’s two. You had thirty-four, the years of the curse plus the years since, Killian had thirty-seven, as near as I can figure, his years growing up until Milah died and he became a villain plus the years since you all saved me in Neverland.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “It’s like he was saving them up for when we could all relax and enjoy the holiday.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Henry agreed.

“But that doesn’t get us any closer to who it might be.”

Killian joined them then with a grin that nearly split his face. “I have succeeded!” he exclaimed.

“Succeeded? You know who Santa is?” Emma demanded.

“What?” he asked, startled, “No! I sweet talked Granny into giving me her secret gingerbread cookie recipe.” He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a cheeky smirk and wink. “Since I know your fondness for that particular seasonal delight.” He leaned in and whispered, “She doesn’t measure the molasses.”

Emma shrugged with a sheepish grin on her face. “Well, okay, I guess I forgive you.”

Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You now poured through the speakers as Emma’s attention settled on Marco and Archie sitting in the booth nearest them enjoying Granny’s gingerbread and cocoa. Marco got up suddenly and smiled widely at her. The booth was close enough that she knew he could hear every word they said. The twinkle in his eye made Emma narrow hers at the older gentleman, and when he shot a wink her way, her eyes grew huge as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Marco raised a finger to his lips before turning away and heading for the door. Emma could hardly contain her excitement as a plan began to take shape in her mind.

“I think it might be time for all the good little children to get to bed if they want Santa to visit,” she said, staring pointedly at Henry. “It’s getting late.”

Henry rolled his eyes at her. “Good grief, Mom. I’m sixteen, not six. I don’t need to be in bed yet.”

Killian pulled Emma closer in to his side and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously at his bride. “Well, I don’t know about ‘good little children,’ but I know a grown up pirate who’d like to go to bed.”

Emma giggled and slapped his chest playfully as Henry rolled his eyes again and groaned. “Ewwww, gross, Dad! Teenager present! Fine, I’ll go home and go to bed. Just keep it down, okay?” he pleaded.

“I make no promises, lad.”

~*~*~

Emma came down the stairs of her home, much later, on tiptoe, seeking to surprise their midnight visitor.

“Ah HA!” she whisper shouted.

Marco spun around with his hand to his chest. “You scared the life out of me, your Highness!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know better than to call me that, Marco.” She approached him as he turned back to his work, placing presents under the tree. “You’re Santa Claus?” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice as she watched him.

“I have many names around the world in this realm, my dear. The one I’m known by in the Enchanted Forest is Belsnickel.”

“Where did all the Christmas presents come from?”

“Always the sheriff,” he chuckled, “Have to have the answers to all the questions, don’t you? Henry was right. Years as a hero that I didn’t get to deliver presents,” he explained. “Whether that was because of the curse, or the chaos of the ensuing years.”

“What about Killian?” she asked. “He had thirty-seven presents.”

“That blessed boy!” Marco laughed. “As a child and lad growing up in servitude, and even at the Naval Academy, it would have been pointless to give him his gifts. They would have been confiscated or destroyed by his masters. Before he turned villain, it just wasn’t practical to give him the things that had collected over the years. A ship just wasn’t the place for them. Once he turned villain, after Milah’s death, he didn’t deserve anything from me, so there wasn’t anything for him for centuries. But once he chose the hero’s path, I started saving his gifts again. I knew this day was coming and how much it would mean to him to receive all those gifts from his childhood.”

“But…” She trailed away. He turned his bright brown eyes upon her as comprehension dawned.

He smiled gently at her. “Yes, I am many hundreds of years old. I have far sight and can see many things that are secret,” he winked at her, “and yet to be.” Emma’s eyes fell toward the floor as a blush graced her cheeks. “And now, my dear, my work here is done. I must move on to the other residents of our fair town before I retire tonight.”

Emma’s eyes were still focused on her feet as Marco raised her chin to look at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Your Highness.” And then he was gone.

~*~*~

Christmas night, Emma sat tucked between Killian’s legs on the sofa in front of the fire and Christmas tree just watching the blinking lights and enjoying a cup of cocoa before bed. Christmas Day had been magical and perfect. Filled to overflowing with love and laughter, family and friends. Killian shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he muttered, “What in the world is that?”

“Hmmm? What in the world is what?” she replied, twisting to look up at him.

“Every time the lights blink, something blinds me. Something on the tree.”

Emma hoisted herself up and walked over to the tree. “I don’t know. Is it reflecting off an ornament? Or maybe there’s something else hidden in the tree?” she wondered, aloud. She reached in and withdrew a tiny wrapped box with Killian’s name on it. She gasped in surprise as she turned and brought it over to where he sat. “It’s for you.”

“Thank you, love.” He reached up and took the small token from her, not quite able to hide his surprise.

“Don’t thank me. I don’t know where that came from. Must be from Santa,” she whispered with a small smile on her lips.

He smirked at her. “Marco, you mean?” he cheeked. “I still can’t believe that Marco is Santa,” he murmured opening the box. Inside was something that had his eyebrows shooting all the way to his hairline. He pulled out a pink pacifier with his hook and held it up for Emma’s inspection. A bashful grin lit up her face.

“I just found out for sure this afternoon,” she began, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re with child?” Killian choked out, rising from the sofa and drawing Emma into his arms.

“Yes,” she beamed at him. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

“A very merry Christmas, indeed, Swan.” He lowered his head towards her and captured her lips in a kiss filled with love and joy of the future laid out before them.

Fin

A/N Obviously in my timeline, Emma got pregnant with Hope much earlier than in canon. I hope you liked this Tee! Merry Christmas!

#cssecretsanta2k19 #teeandsnowflakes #operation secret santa #krystal writes #art by krystal

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celestica-1988 · 5 years

Text

I’ll Be There

TheDirt!NikkiSixxxFemaleReader

It was a cold morning in New York, but you didn’t feel it.

Wrapped in your blankets you were stretching your arms, thanking God for the lucky job you had. You were one of the roadies of the Mötley Crüe and you were happy to sleep in the same hotel of them, the room was really comfortable.

After weeks spent sleeping in bunks everything was better than it, cause they were so small that sometimes you felt like you were in a lack of air to breathe.

The band was awesome but problematic.

Mick was always bitter and drunk because he had chronical back pain, Vince was the one sober and he seemed sad and then there were the Terror Twins.

Tommy was loud, a goofball of energy and then there was Nikki and your heart skipped a beat. Before starting the job you swore to yourself you wouldn’t fall in love with a band member. That was before you saw Nikki’s green eyes. They were so full of pain and confusion, rarely happy, rarely sober.

You knew he was in heroin, but you couldn’t image how much.

And so, as clique as it sounded you felt for the bassist and it wasn’t a good idea at all, you spent many nights crying in silence over it. It sucked watching the person you loved destroying himself with his own hands, sadder if you considered than none of his band mates were doing something about it because they were too busy with their own problems.

You would like to help him, but you didn’t know how, after all you were just a roadie, not a friend, just a random person.

It was discouraging for you, you owned so much to that band.

If it wasn’t for that job you would probably be homeless, so you felt like you wanted to help as much as possible.

Sighing you got up and had a shower, the situation wasn’t going to change no matter how much you thought about it. Probably the right chance would come when you stopped obsessing about it.

After a good shower you realized it was late in the morning and the breakfast time was over in the hotel, you hoped you could at least had a coffee at the bar. You couldn’t start your day without coffee and the band often teased you and made fun of you for this, but you didn’t care. Your morning coffee was more important of any stupid comment.

You went down in the hall, you asked for a coffee to the bar and you got it, you were sipping it when you saw Doc walked through the hall with a woman in high boots. They chatted for a while, then Nikki emerged from an elevator and he froze when he saw them. The woman hugged him crying, after a while he hugged her too. You had no idea what was happening but you sensed Nikki’s awkwardness from there. Whoever was that woman to him, she was someone he was not exactly happy to see.

Suddenly he released the woman from his arms and he started to scream and kick random things. Doc talked to him, but Nikki snapped at him and went away.

You paid the coffee and ran after Nikki, who left the hotel.

Sometimes Doc asked you to take care of him, but this time you were following him on your own free will, worried about what happened. The bassist was upset, something must had happened between him and the woman and whatever it was it hurt him.

You made your best to stay behind him, but people came in your way, you cursed New York and how crowded it was.

You knew Nikki enough to know that he would look for two things in that state: drugs or alcohol.

If you were lucky you would find him in some bar, in the worst scenario he would find some pusher and had some heroin and you dreaded this.

You didn’t want to see him laying on a sidewalks with a syringe in the arm, you didn’t know if you can stand that view. You were brave, but there were limits at what your brain could process.

You kept following him, even though he was more and more far away from you, praying to find him drunk instead of drugged.

In the end he disappeared into the crowd, you stopped for like five seconds then you were pushed by the people who were in a hurry for something.

You looked around, you saw the Christmas trees and the lights, most of this bunch of people were looking for presents. You lost the only one person that matters to you thanks to them.

You clenched your fists and released a frustrated noise.

How could you find him again?

……………………………………………….

One hour later you found him in a bar not too far away from the hotel.

He was drinking Jack Daniels and he seemed already drunk, you were relieved that at least he didn’t shoot heroin in his veins.

You sat at his table, he lifted the head from the glass.

“Hey, Y/N. Did Doc send you to look for me?” He slurred.

“No, I came here because I was worried for you. Doc didn’t know anything.”

“Better for him, he’s out. He’s another bastard who just wants to exploit my music.” “Why do you say that?

What happened?” “I don’t really wanna talk about my private shit in a crowded bar where it could be hidden a fucking journalist.”

“Fine, let’s go back to the hotel.” “In my room there would be that bitch still.”

“Then come in mine. No bitches, no journalists.

It’s not first class like yours, but…”

“Why?”

“Why what?” “Why are you doing that, Y/N?”

“Because I care about you, I’m worried about you and I wanna help if it’s possible.” He gave you a suspicious look.

“I don’t wanna exploit your music, how could I even do that?

I don’t play any instrument and I’m just a roadie. I’m nothing for the Elektra Records.”

“Ok, let’s go.

I was tired to stay there anyway.”

He got up and stumbled, he was unsure on his legs so you passed an arm around his waist, for the firsts five seconds he seemed about to take it away, then he just gave up.

“Fuck.”

He said under breath.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t seem able to walk alone.”

“Yea.” He paid the alcohol and then you left the bar.

Outside it was darker than you thought, a lot of people starred at you and Nikki gave a middle finger to everyone.

“Stop it or some goddamned journalist will come.”

“I’m not a monkey in a zoo.” “For those people you are just a drunk person, there’s no reasons to react like this.

It will just draw attention on us.”

“You are smart, how come you are babysitting us?” “Money. I haven’t got enough of them for any college and to be honest I like this work.”

He laughed.

“I can’t believe there’s someone who likes babysitting four grown ass men.”

You would like to tell him that being a roadie was more than take care of the band, that every concert who was successful was a personal satisfaction because behind it there were also your work.

You had the feeling that Nikki wouldn’t understand and just plainly accused you to exploit his talent. Why was he so complicated?

It wasn’t simple deal with Tommy, Mick and Vince, but with Nikki it was like playing Russian roulette every time you talked to him. Drugs just made it worst his natural tendency to mood swings.

Slowly you reached the hotel, Doc shot at you a grateful glare and kept drinking, he was a tired man now.

You were tired too, but you have to be strong for Nikki now, even though it wasn’t your job.

You took the elevator and you started to rummage in your pockets to find the key, after a few tries you fund them.

The elevator’s door opened and you and Nikki staggered till your room.

You entered it and he left himself drop on the bed.

“Man, I’m fucking tired.” You sat on a chair and looked at him.

“What happened, Nikki? Why do you start to kick everything?”

“It was her fault, she should haven’t be here.”

“Who? The woman in the hall?

Who is her?” Nikki looked at you with piercing eyes.

“She’s Deana, my mother.” You widened your eyes in shock, Nikki never talked about his parents so you thought he was orphan.

“Your mother? I thought you were an orphan.”

He laughed bitterly.

“I wish I was. My parents are still alive. My father left my mother when I was two years old, I didn’t even remember his face. Since then, I guess, my mother brought home abusive men who last just two weeks and fucked her and beat me.”

“I’m sorry, Nikki.” He didn’t even listen to you.

“When I was thirteen I made her arrested by the cops, I cut myself with a knife and told them she was her fault, that she hurt me. I also told her to never call me again and she did it for a while.

I lived the rest of my teenager age in a foster home, once I was eighteen I left and called my father. I was looking for a ghost and the ghost said he didn’t wanna have nothing to do with me.

I changed my name into Nikki Sixx and so I thought I was free from my past, but…” Tears started to fall from his eyes.

He was in pain, all his demons were dancing in that room, you could hear them laugh at Nikki.

You wanted them to go away, you wanted to make him feel better.

“When the band became famous she found out that Nikki Sixx was his son.

Since then Deana call me every once in a while, I could handle it. But things got worse when “Home Sweet Home” came out. She called me everyday.

Every fucking day.

I had no idea why, but now I know.

The first things she asked me after so many years was if “Home Sweet Home” was about her.

She never cared about me, she cares only about herself.

That’s my mother, Deana! Every time she called I shoot heroin in my veins so I don’t think about her.

And now I met her, I saw her in the eyes because that idiot thought it could help me.

Fucking idiot.”

You knew Doc’s intentions weren’t bad, but he didn’t know the whole story.

You were horrified that someone so selfish and toxic grew up Nikki. It was no surprises he didn’t want to see her.

Seeing the boy you loved crying silently with the hands on his face, while little hiccups shook him, broke your heart. What could you do?

Slowly you went on your knees in front of him and hugged him, hoping that your body could say what your words couldn’t.

Nikki stay frozen for a while, then hugged you back. A tight hug, the same of a man who was drowning and found something that keep him above water.

“Nikki…”

You said softly, caressing gently his hair.

“I can’t delete your past and I can’t change the fact that Deana was an asshole to you, but when she calls you I will be there for you if you want to.

Come talk to me, every time you want to, I will listen.

I care about you, I don’t want you to shoot heroin in your veins if it can be avoided. I don’t want to see you kill yourself slowly…” Your voice cracked.

“I don’t wanna find you dead or read that someone did. I really care about you.

So please come to me, instead of heroin.” Now you were crying too.

You poured your heart in those words, you hoped that reached Nikki’s heart because you really didn’t want to see him consume himself. You loved him, but at this point it didn’t even matter, it was okay being just his friend.

He looked you in the eyes. This time his eyes were vulnerable and a bit scared, you didn’t break the contact.

“Do you care so much about me that is okay for you that a fucked up guy could’ve call you at every hours of the day or night?”

“Yes.”

He smiled weakly and then kissed you.

It was a gentle and soft kiss, still it sent shivers on your spine.

“Nikki?” You said confused, he brushed your lips.

“I like you, I wanna try to trust you.”

You hugged him.

“I’m so happy you did.” “But I’m really tired now, can I sleep here next to you?

You nodded and he started to undress. You did the same, but at the moment to lay on the bed you hesitated.

“Come.” He said with a smile.

“Ok.”

You laid next to him who hugged you from behind.

You were a bit scared because from now you would start a long journey, complicated and full of pain, but the warmth of Nikki’s body calmed you down.

Whatever it would happen you’ll face it with him.

That what the warmth was telling you and you believed it.

You believed in your heart and that made you feel brave.

None of you wasn’t alone anymore.

You felt asleep smiling.

Maybe you were a fool, but it was worth a try.

Love was never wasted.

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virgilmydarkstrangeson · 5 years

Text

Trying to Survive: Chapter 33

A/N: We’re here! Chapter 33, the final chapter, and it’s taken us so long to actually get here, you guys have no idea how much I worked on this to make it an appropriate ending. Thank you everybody for supporting me as I wrote this story over the course of a year and a month, and I hope you’ll read my other stories that will be coming out soon! Love you all!!!

Summary: Virgil just wants to live as himself. There are bumps in the road, but hey, life isn’t easy. Pairing: Analogical Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, very brief mention of transphobia, mentions of top surgery, brief mention of a super sympathetic Deceit like literally one name mention, gay crying, if you see anything else please tell me!! Word Count: 2,049

~~~

Virgil was stood, looking into the mirror as he smoothed down his shirt, his hands shaking ever so slightly. It had been nearly three years to the day now since he had gotten top surgery, yet it still felt so strange to have a flat chest, to not need his binder anymore. He was looking into the mirror, and looking back was him, nobody but himself, and it was incredible. It also allowed him something to focus on to calm his nerves, as his stomach was in a tight knot.

There was a soft knock on the door before it creaked open and Patton poked his head inside of the room.

“Hey kiddo, how you doing?” Virgil saw Patton’s concerned look in the mirror, and let out the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding as he turned to face him.

“Nervous, extremely.” Patton pulled Virgil into a tight hug, seeming to not care about messing up Virgil’s clothing. “What if I mess up, Pat? Everyone will be watching me…” Patton pulled away then, holding onto Virgil’s shoulders as he looked him in the eyes.

“Hey, you’re going to do great, you’ve been practising for months now, and even if you do mess up it’s not like anyone’s going to know.” Virgil sighed and looked away, chewing on his lip. “You’ll be fine, Virg, honest. Once you get out there, you’ll forget all about your worries.”

“I hope you’re right…” Virgil sighed again, taking one last look in the mirror and smoothing his shirt down again before taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

As soon as they walked out, they were greeted by Virgil’s dad, who smiled widely at seeing them.

“You look great, son. Are you ready to go?” Virgil simply nodded, not used to his hair not falling into his eyes as the still-purple mess had been slicked back and styled for the day. Patton nearly squealed as he had started to bounce in place.

“Pat you look more excited than me,” Virgil let out a small laugh as he spoke, only half-joking, as he was still extremely nervous. “Let’s just go before I actually have a panic attack, okay?” Virgil linked arms with his dad and began walking, with Patton walking only a few paces behind them.

The sky was completely clear of clouds as they slowly walked down the concrete path, and despite the time of year, the sun shone warm, bathing everything in a bright glow. Music was starting to reach Virgil’s ears now, and in a few steps they were there, and Virgil had to swallow down the growing anxiety.

As everyone stood up, Virgil noticed just how many people there were, all looking at him with various expressions. Virgil noticed a lot of Logan’s siblings and cousins who he had finally met last year around Christmastime, including Logan’s teenage sister Olivia, who was wearing a bright purple dress, as well as a lot of people who Virgil had never seen in his life but could only assume were more of Logan’s relatives and friends. The worry of what they might think about Virgil having literally nobody on his side only melted away when they reached the aisle and Virgil saw Logan.

Logan was wearing a suit in the same style as Virgil’s own; three-piece, all black with the only colour being his tie, which was a rich, velvet purple, and the pocket square in his breast pocket which was space themed, and matched the one Virgil had in his own pocket. Virgil’s tie, however, was a deep blue, and instead matched up with the boutonniere attached to Logan’s lapel, which was a rose dyed the same shade of blue, much like the rose on Virgil’s lapel that was dyed the same purple as Logan’s tie. Virgil locked eyes with Logan, silver meeting blue, and he noticed how Logan’s hair was also styled up away from his face, he had grown it longer recently.

While Virgil had been taking in how handsome Logan looked, he and his dad had made it up to the altar, and then it was just him and Logan, while everyone else sat down, save for Roman and Patton, who was the officiator and best man respectively, Patton refused to choose a side. From this point on, most of the ceremony was a blur for Virgil, save for the vows, which became one of those memories that would never leave Virgil for as long as he was alive.

"Logan,” Virgil began, trying to somewhat regulate his breathing and also imagine that possibly a hundred pairs of eyes were not actually staring at him. “We may have met by chance, but you have changed my life forever. You accepted me when hardly anyone else would, and you related to me in ways that nobody else has ever done. We both love space, and we've never had an awkward silence, and these, as well as many other reasons, made me realise how good you are for me. You changed me, for the better. And now I can't even imagine my life without you." Virgil never once broke eye contact as he spoke, finding comfort in those blue eyes, and noticed that Logan’s eyes were becoming slightly glassy, while his own vision blurred for a moment before he tried to blink it away. Great, they were both about to cry at their own wedding. "Virgil,” Logan’s voice cracked ever so slightly that Virgil was sure he was the only one who caught it, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “When we met I wasn't looking for any sort of relationship, but you changed that. You had a fire in your eyes I hadn't seen in many people, and your differences never once deterred me. You're passionate about so many things and brought a new spark to my life, you made me realise that sometimes, real experiences are so much better than anything fictional. And now I can't even imagine my life without you." That line, it was what they had chosen to connect whatever else they were going to say. Virgil could clearly remember the night he thought of it, just lying in bed while Logan was at the desk, the only sound being the latter grading papers. It was when he realised just how much Logan had changed his life around.

Roman cleared his throat after the rings had been exchanged, Virgil’s was a thin, white gold band while Logan’s was a more traditional golden colour, and Roman was obviously trying and failing to contain his own smile as he spoke next.

“Then, if nobody has any objections,” Roman paused, both for dramatic effect and to see if anybody would object like there was anybody in the vicinity who wasn’t bursting from happiness, before continuing. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom!” In the corner of his eye, Virgil thought he saw Logan’s mother grimace slightly, but that didn’t matter to him at that moment, as he was giving Logan a small, warm smile and then they were kissing, only lightly, lips barely brushing together as a cascade of applause hit his ears, muffled to Virgil as his focus was fully on Logan, even as they pulled apart and were just smiling at each other.

The pictures were taken not too far away, in front of a large flower bed filled with a huge array of flowers in every colour of the rainbow. Unsurprisingly, Patton begged to be in every photo that he possibly could, even getting into a tiny argument with the photographer, Dee, over whether Patton counted as Virgil’s family, but it was lighthearted, and Patton still got to cling to Virgil’s free arm in every photo he was in, smile brighter than the sun.

After all the photos had been taken, it was a short drive to the hall that the reception was being held, as well as the buffet that Logan and Virgil had decided to have instead of a sit-down meal. That way, everyone could eat whatever they liked. However, before anyone could eat, Roman insisted that they have a ‘first dance’ together as a married couple.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm proud to present for the first time, Mr and Mr Sanders!" Roman's booming voice was even louder than usual thanks to him finagling a microphone from the DJ, and that was Logan and Virgil's cue, to walk into the large hall decorated with blue and purple balloons and streamers, hand in hand, both unable to contain their smiles. The DJ turned on the music Virgil had picked out, a song he himself had written and recorded only a few months ago, and then Logan led Virgil to the middle of the dance floor, and they began a simple, swaying dance. "You know that your vows were almost cheesy, right?" Virgil whispered when the music was loud enough to drown out his voice to everyone else. Logan seemed to chuckle, his arms around Virgil's waist tightening ever so slightly.

“That is the nature of writing romantic things, you know.” Logan's voice was right by Virgil’s ear as he spoke, Virgil had invested in a pair of insoles to give him a couple of extra inches to his height, meaning he was now only two inches shorter than Logan, give or take. “I don’t think I’ve ever fully seen your forehead before.” The statement was so random that it caused Virgil to almost laugh before he disguised it as a cough.

“Not what I expected to hear as we’re dancing on our wedding day, L, but okay,” Virgil smiled, and Logan scoffed a bit, his face burning slightly. He was still smiling, however.

“I was going to say that your hairstyle suits you, you should wear it up more often. You didn’t let me finish.” This only furthered Virgil’s laughter, which caused Logan’s smile to grow as well. “You’re insufferable sometimes.”

“You’re the one who married me,” Virgil retorted as the music faded out and a more lively song replaced the gentle guitar strings, and other people began to trickle onto the dance floor.

A few hours of dancing and food and people constantly congratulating Virgil and Logan on getting married, and then they were off for their honeymoon. Virgil had changed into a black and white plaid button-up with a purple shirt underneath, as well as his trademark skinny jeans, while Logan was wearing the black shirt from his suit and a dark blue blazer. They had packed beforehand, and the suitcases were in Logan’s car already, so they said quick goodbyes before getting in, and then they were really off.

Another few hours, and Virgil was humming to himself as he stared out of the window, watching the dark silhouettes of the scenery outside fly past. Logan was driving, his eyes fixed on the road, however, Virgil couldn’t help but lay his hand on the hand Logan was resting on the gearstick.

“I hope you’re not trying to distract me,” Logan glanced in Virgil’s direction momentarily, and there was no dissatisfaction in his eyes. “I’d prefer to reach the resort.”

“I know,” Virgil replied, smiling even though he knew Logan wouldn’t be able to properly see it. “It’s hard to believe we’re actually married, it seems like we’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I know what you mean, our lives have taken drastic turns since we met,” Virgil’s focus shifted to the ring on his finger as he thought about what to say next.

“All because I met a space nerd who accepts me for who I am.”

“And I met a ‘space nerd’ who was unafraid to be himself.” Logan parked the car and turned to look properly at Virgil, hands actually intertwining. “You’re incredibly brave, Virgil. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe you.” Virgil felt heat rush to his face, however, he wasn’t as flustered as he would’ve been a couple of years ago.

“You’re pretty incredible yourself, L,” Virgil’s voice had dropped to a near whisper, and the pair leaned in for one sweet, quick kiss before getting out and grabbing their suitcases, ready for a beachside honeymoon to kickstart their new, married, happy life together.

~~~

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#thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #romantic analogical #analogical #trans!virgil

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dustinreidmusic · 5 years

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Mac's Wild Years: By Michael Hurtt. Originally published in Offbeat Magazine

Mac Rebennack was born in 1941. Dr. John was born in 1967. What happened in between would color his whole musical career. "In New Orleans, everything--food, music, religion, even the way people talk and act--has deep, deep roots; and, like the tangled veins of cypress roots that meander this way and that in the swamp, everything in New Orleans is interrelated, wrapped around itself in ways that aren't always obvious."--Mac Rebennack In 1967, Malcolm Rebennack, Jr., exiled to the West Coast after a final drug bust that forbid him "to go to or through New Orleans," donned face paint, glitter and plumes and emerged as Dr. John the Night Tripper. His debut album Gris-Gris, and the stage shows that followed it, hawked a brand of psychedelic New Orleans R&B that mixed Mardi Gras Indian street chants with the primal gospel of holiness churches, the pianistic funk of Professor Longhair, heavy doses of hoodoo mysticism and nearly every shred of ritualistic South Louisiana culture that he'd absorbed during his decade and a half in the New Orleans music scene. From the drag shows at the Dew Drop Inn to the electric guitar evangelizing of the Reverend Utah Smith, it was a netherworld far stranger and more colorful than anything the pioneer of voodoo rock could have dreamed up. His role in it, though often been eclipsed by his later metamorphosis, established a reputation that would inform every aspect of his later musical life. Populated by high school greasers, high-rolling gangsters, down-and-out dope fiends and jive-talking record men, it was a world that had rapidly begun evaporating with the election of District Attorney Earling Carothers "Jim" Garrison in 1961. Prior to his widely known investigation into the Kennedy assassination, Garrison made his name locally by leading a systematic crack down on Crescent City vice that padlocked night clubs, juke joints and gambling dens. He often led the raids himself, pistol in hand, and by 1963 had managed to single-handedly dismantle the around-the-clock-party that had been Rebennack's entire young life. It had been one of after-hours jam sessions that lasted well into the next day, followed by "record dates" that produced aural snapshots that just reeked with crazed rock 'n' roll atmosphere: Jerry Byrne's frantic "Lights Out" and "Carry On," Roland Stone's narcotic anthem "Junco Partner," and Mac's own sinister, tremelo-charged "Storm Warning." "If we didn't have an artist and we had some studio time we'd just be the artist," Rebennack says of the sessions that produced hundreds of singles under monikers from Ronnie and the Delinquents to Drits and Dravy. The former's 1959 "Bad Neighborhood" was a greasy period piece if there ever was one. Meant to commemorate "the end of the zoot suit era," its gleeful lines of "Lie, steal, drink all day / good folks try to keep away," was an outright celebration of the lifestyle that Garrison sought to eliminate. And the Delinquents moniker was really no joke. "When we hired Ronnie Barron to be the singer with us, he was a li'l thug," says Rebennack, who'd had remarkably bad luck with great front men thus far. "We lost more singers to the penitentiary," he says, naming nearly everyone who preceded Barron with the exception of Frankie Ford. "Deadeye went to the joint for manslaughter, Jerry Byrne fell and went up for statutory rape, then Roland Stone went up on narcotics." Local disc jockey Jim Stewart once recalled that Rebennack's teenage bands "were always high, always late." But somehow through the haze, Mac would manage to simultaneously wear the hats of talent scout, A&R man, composer, producer, arranger, session musician, and when the need arose, singer. It might have stayed that way had Barron not refused to take on the Dr. John persona, which was invented with him in mind. Rebennack had started flirting with drugs when he was 12, already well seasoned in the art of skipping school and Mass to catch the street car to the early morning R&B jams at the Brass Rail. Since his father owned an appliance store that serviced jukeboxes, his childhood was spent wearing out stacks of hillbilly, jazz and blues 78s when they came off the boxes. Schooled on "Pinetop's Boogie Woogie" by his piano-playing aunt, he soon took up the guitar. By the time rock 'n' roll hit during his freshman year at Jesuit High School, he was more than ready. At Jesuit, Rebennack formed his first band the Dominos, with Henry Guerineau, then joined Guerineau's the Spades with whom he played "the Holy Father Circuit," as he refers it, starring at CYO dances from Redemptorist in the Irish Channel to Saint Anthony's in Mid-City. His teachers were current and future Fats Domino guitarists Papoose Nelson and Roy Montrell, who took an axe to young Mac's brand new green and black Harmony guitar. "He broke it all up, called my Pa and said, 'Mr. Rebennack, I ain't teachin' your son on that piece of shit. Go pick him out something nice.' I thought I was going to get killed. My Pa was hip, though. He knew it wasn't about the guitar as much as having that guitar to bring on the gig." Montrell took Mac to a pawnshop where he picked out a Gibson that he worked off lugging appliances for his dad. "My father didn't say a word til later," Rebennack wrote in his autobiography Under a Hoodoo Moon. "Apparently Roy had taken him aside and told him, 'I taught your son a lesson, that you don't get things because of the way they look. You get them on how they work." "He had a way of teaching that kept me coming back for more. During the lesson, he strung me along with ordinary riffs--but then right at the end he'd play some killer lick, his back turned so I couldn't see his fingers, and say, 'Hey, wanna learn that shit, kid? Come back next week. Now get the fuck outta here." Having already met studio owner Cosimo Matassa, who was a friend of his father, Rebennack spent his schooldays honing his songwriting skills. "Man, I used to go to school, I had a couple of comic books where the outside cover looked like a loose leaf binder. And I'd sit there in class reading that. They thought I was doing something in school but I'd be sitting there writing songs, ripping them off from Mad or Tales from the Crypt." He'd also begun hanging out at Warren Easton High School on Canal Street, a hotbed of hip musical activity that had already birthed New Orleans first bona-fide white rock 'n' roll band, the Sparks. It was here that he first encountered saxophonist Leonard James, whose band was blasting out a set of Sam Butera songs in the school gymnasium. It turned out that James knew all about the Brass Rail too, and dug the same hard-driving sounds as Rebennack did. They were soon rehearsing at James' house in the notorious St. Roch park neighborhood with guitarist Earl Stanley--now playing the recently introduced electric bass--and drummer Paul Staehle. "Leonard lived on Robertson not too far from the park and Stanley used to live around there on Dauphine," Rebennack says. "One of the things St. Roch Park was known for was as a good cop spot. St. Roch church was famous, too, because they'd take the grease out the bells by the cemetery, mix it with some graveyard dirt and some gun powder, add extra nitrate and put that all together with Patchouli oil to make goofy dust. Now, what you did with it was according to how rank a motherfucker you were." The mysterious worlds of drugs and hoodoo fascinated young Mac, but in his new musical partners he found an even deeper magic. "Paul Staehle was bad. I remember him having drum battles with Edward Blackwell and all the top drummers. And Stanley had a finger-plucking style of guitar like Snooks did, North Mexican shit that he'd learned from his daddy. He was into Earl King and Guitar Slim just like I was. We liked those cats because they did something different." Rebennack had picked up on the flamboyance of his guitar heroes a little too acutely for the priests at Jesuit, who'd brought his high school career to a halt after a Christmas talent show where they accused him of making "lewd gyrations" with his instrument. The real beef, Henry Guerineau later told Tad Jones, was that they were playing R&B instead of big band swing or Dixieland. "At the time," he recalled, "it was heresy." Stanley, who became the Spades' guitarist after Rebennack left the band, was having his own issues over at Nicholls High. "I used to hang with the gangsters, all the tough guys," Stanley says. "I was so bad they threw me out of Nicholls but they couldn't throw me out of school. So they asked me to leave and I went to McDonough on Esplanade for a couple of months, then I quit when I was 15. That was in '55. "I didn't know Mac when he was in the Spades. I just remember seeing him playing guitar at the dances. I thought, 'That guy's pretty good.' Then I got with Leonard and through Leonard I met Mac. They had a guy playing piano with them, Hal Farrar, he went by the stage names 'King Helo Attaro' and 'Spider Boy.' Now Hal was a character, he was the character of them all; the main lunatic. He liked to drink vodka, he could care less about anything, just a wild man. He used to have this Cugat jacket he'd wear and he'd play piano and try to do all of Little Richard's stuff. He even had the little moustache. In fact, he recorded the original demo of 'I've Been Hoodood' (later to become the flip side of the Dr. John hit "Right Place, Wrong Time") with Leonard." Vocalists Wayne "Deadeye" Herring and Jerry Byrne were also drifting into the group at this point. "We used to do the old low-down blues," Herring told Jones. "There weren't too many white bands that could do it. Back then if you sat in with a black band, boy, they'd jump on your ass when you come outside. People took a dim view of that but we did it anyway." While band names revolved from the Skyliners to the Loafers to the Night Trains to the Thunderbirds, the foundation remained James, Rebennack, Stanley and Staehle. "Crippled" Eddie Hynes and Eddie Shroeder often floated in on trombone and baritone sax respectively. "Whether it was Leonard's band or my band, it was all pretty much the same crew of guys," says Rebennack, "Nothing really changed other than we changed the name of the band quite frequently. It kinda helped us get some gigs and win some talent shows. We lost them under one name and won them under another." The core foursome debuted on wax with an album of raunchy guitar and sax instrumentals, Boppin' and A Strollin' with Leonard James, recorded for Decca in 1956. Rough, ready and loose, the LP was the perfect soundtrack of noir New Orleans; at once evocative of French Quarter strip joints, high school dances and hood hangouts like the Rockery Inn. Along with discs like the Saxons' "Camel Walk' and the Sparks' "Merry Mary Lou," it stands as a testament to city's incredibly potent--but often obscured--white rock 'n' roll underground. "Leonard always took pride in combing his ducktail perfect," recalls Rebennack. "I mean, he would stand in front the mirror for an hour and then put his be-bop cap on--perfect. He had his little zoot suit pressed, more than the rest of us. We'd just wear them. They were the kind that didn't wrinkle any way. "Leonard was a great hustler. He used to walk in joints where they never had a band in their life. I remember us getting a gig in the Ninth Ward at a grocery store. Leonard conned this guy into hiring us but he wanted country music. We didn't know any country music so we'd play 'Comin' Around the Mountain' or whatever. As long as we were working, we didn't care nothing about none of the rest of it." From dives like the Club Leoma, the Blue Cat and the Jet Lounge, they moved up to the Clock on St. Charles Avenue and finally, the Brass Rail. "While we were working there Paul Gayten says, 'If y'all want to keep the gig, you're going to have to quit playing songs like the record.' And that became kind of a theme with our band. We didn't play them like the records, we played them our way." Gayten also took issue with their slightly out-of-date stage wear. "We had the same suits for so long that I don't think anybody ever considered getting new uniforms until Paul started fuckin' with us: 'Nobody wears zoot suits in Chicago; they wear continental suits.' Man, here we had all our money invested in these royal blue zoot suits. And what do we do? We got some new suits from Harry Hyman's or old man Sutton's on South Rampart--continental suits--and we wore them in Gretna when they had a gang fight at Cass's Lounge. They throwed us all in the drainage ditch out behind the joint. We ruined our new suits and we hadn't even paid for them yet! "When we worked at any of them joints on the West Bank, shit happened. At Spec's Moulin Rouge, old man Spec used to have guys walking around with pieces dressed like police but they wasn't official police, they was just guys who worked for old man Spec. Gang fights was, like, prevalent. When the Choctaw Boys and the Cherokees would have their annual beef at the Wego Inn on the Hill, it would be around Carnival. And it would be like, 'Goddamn.' You know the shit's going to happen; it's just when it's going happen. I would be trying to play close to the slot machines that were on the bandstand because I figured the slots could deal with the slugs better than me. When I saw anything that looked like it could be trouble, I'd back up toward the slots. But this is the kind of shit you had to endure back in them days because you were dealing with a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. And we were crazy, too." If there was one song that distilled the insanity into the length of a 45 RPM record, it was Rebennack's "Lights Out," cut by Jerry Byrne for Specialty in 1958. Punctuated by stop-time drum breaks, a foghorn-like saxophone riff and a searing piano solo courtesy of Art Neville, "Lights Out" has justifiably been called "the perfect rock 'n' roll song." Byrne's breakneck vocal nods to a personality so bent on bringing the house down that fights--and sometimes worse--often ensued. "Jerry was one of them suckers who worked the house," says Rebennack, "but he was a piece of work. He drove me crazy a number of times in my life. He was special with that. Hey, guys wanted to shoot me over things Jerry did. He had the ability to kick up more shit with more motherfuckers than anybody I know." In 1959, Byrne cut Mac's equally boisterous "Carry On" and then got sent to prison on a trumped-up statutory rape charge. Deadeye was already behind bars. "It was a never-ending thing," says Stanley, "just make a record and things happen, you know?" Despite the trouble, says Rebennack, "our band was really popular." They'd toured with Frankie Ford behind "Sea Cruise" and Byrne behind "Lights Out" as well as backing the traveling rock 'n' roll caravans at both the Municipal Auditorium and Pontchartrain Beach Amusement Park. And the records kept coming, from Bobby Lonero's "Little Bit" to Morgus and the Ghouls' "Morgus the Magnificent." "I don't think any of us thought that much about doing a record date," reflects Rebennack. "The gigs were the fun part. When I started working for Joe Ruffino's record company, Joe asked my daddy if I could be the president of the company and my daddy says, 'What are you crazy? This boy can't even find his fuckin' shoes!' But there were so many guys we did sessions for like Andy Blanco at Drew-blan in Morgan City and a bunch of other guys that had different little labels in the country. We played on all of Cos's Rex stuff and then we did a lot of crazy stuff all through the days we were working for Johnny Vincent over at Ace. I remember we stole 'Jimmy Crack Corn' and called it 'Ain't No Use.' We cut 'Row Your Boat' with Big Boy Myles. And I don't know how many different versions of 'Junco Partner' we cut with Roland Stone. We were some plagiarizing motherfuckers." Stone, the most prolific of Rebennack's vocalists on record, had already blazed the white R&B trail with local luminaries the Jokers when he waxed the regional smash "Just a Moment" with Rebennack in 1961. His entrance roughly coincided with the departure of Leonard James, who was replaced by Charlie Maduell after he joined the Air Force. "Charlie was just as crazy as Leonard was, but Leonard never got high. On the other hand, Charlie fit right in with the rest of us because he liked the narcotics, too. Probably the only one that wasn't a really serious drug addict was Stanley. If we were somewhere in the country, we would burglarize drug stores. When we were in the city, we forged 'scripts. We were strung out dope fiends, what the hell you going to do? There was a pharmacy on the corner of Dorgenois and Canal that used to sell to all the dope fiends. You had to go in there and ask for certain things, that's when I started getting my collection of Mad comic books together. If I got a comic book and a bag of pork rinds, that meant I wanted some opiates. Everything you ordered meant something else. We used to have so much fun that who'd have ever thought we'd wind up in jail? "My favorite gig was when Roland was singing with us and we started working at Little Club Forest on Jefferson Highway. At Club Forest, you could tell what audience hit because when all the junkies would come in, they'd just want to hear 'Junco Partner' over and over. When the whores came in they'd want to hear whatever their song was that night. So there were all these songs that fit the set. That gig was so fuckin' off the hook, so much crazy shit happened at that gig alone, I couldn't even describe it. "Between Charlie Maduell and Paul Staehle, they would always hide the stash for the band. One night they had a raid and Paul had the whole band's stash in his sock. They didn't shake us down, but the FBI came in and they emptied the joint. Somebody paid everyone's bond and before the night was over, Wes, the Jefferson Parish narc, was selling the customers back their dope in the band room! This is how out there it was. "And then Charlie went out and walked the bar and did the dance of the Seven Veils. He's out and there doing a striptease walking the bar. It's one of them gigs that's printed in my brain. And we always had what we used to call our 'band-aids' back then. Before they called them groupies, we called them band-Aids." When Stone fell for one of the young ladies a little too hard, friction arose. "I told Roland, 'Hey, listen, you can't marry this girl. She's our girl. She belongs to the band.' I thought I was doing him a favor but it backfired. He was obviously pissed." Stone showed up for his next recording session with three henchmen in tow including prizefighter Pepi Flores. "They stomped my ass. Charlie went out and got a gun and was firing in the air. I says, 'Charlie, quit shooting in the air! Shoot these motherfuckers!' He didn't even have real guns. They were replica weapons he'd loaded up! But we all went to work the next night together. Me and Charlie wound up having to wear shades and makeup to hide the black eyes. That's when I learned, hey, when it comes to matters of somebody's heart, stay the fuck out of it." The good times had to come to an end and they eventually did. Stone was busted on a narcotics charge, as was Maduell, who remains in Angola today. Within just a few years, Paul Staehle would die of a drug over dose. Rebennack's own luck ran out on Christmas Eve of 1961 when he intervened in a scuffle between Ronnie Barron and a jealous club owner who accused Barron of having an affair with his wife. "I walked in to get Ronnie at the last minute because Ronnie was like Leonard James, he'd take forever to get himself all perfect. So I go to get him and the guy's pistol-whipping him. Miss Mildred, Ronnie's mama, said if anything happened to her son on the road she was going to take a butcher knife and chop my cajones off. So I'm thinking, 'Man, if anything happens to this guy, his mama's going to fuck me up.' And hey, she was much more frightening to me than this guy was. I thought I had my hand over the handle of the gun, but it was over the barrel. I'm beating his hand on the bricks and as I'm hitting it, all of a sudden the gun went off and my finger's just about to fall off of my hand. It was hanging by a piece of skin and then I went crazy. I took Paul Staehle's ride cymbal out the case and just fucked up the guy's face. I was trying to pull his eyeballs out his head." Doctors managed to reattach the finger, but Rebennack had trouble playing guitar with the intensity he'd become known for. He concentrated on the keyboard, playing organ on virtually all of Huey Meaux's New Orleans sessions, most notably those of Barbara Lynn and Jimmy Donley. The first--and perhaps wildest--chapter of his musical career officially came to a close when he was busted and sent to federal prison in Fort Worth, Texas. Upon his release in 1965 he headed to California and his future as the Night Tripper. "You know what the kicks of it was?" Rebennack asks. "We wanted to play music so bad that we didn't ever think about it. We were trying to make a hustle just off of the gigs and that was part of the fun of it. Everything we done, we had fun doing it. That was the one thing that I always treasured about them days. It was just something that happened. When you're young and crazy and stupid, you do a lot of crazy, stupid shit. But a lot of that shit is great because you're too stupid to know better. I know that we made it a point to always have kicks, to always have good times no matter what was going to go down. We never thought, 'Oh, this is a suck-ass gig we're going on.' We went on all kinds of suck-ass gigs! But while we were doing them, we had a ball."

#drjohn #neworleans

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imsobrooklyn-archived-sameurl · 5 years

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TAGGED BY: found & stolen. TAGGING: @saturnrang, @falsedking, @valinta + whoever come across this.

► GENERAL.

HEIGHT: 5′8 — previously 5′6. After being bitten by the genetically-altered “42″ Spider, his stature is elongated by two inches. WEIGHT: 160 lbs — Miles is an ectomorph; it’s mostly maintained because of his obligatory participations in gym classes, playing basketball with the neighborhood every now and again after school, and the rare times he can sneak off for urban exploration or play around with his uncle’s punching bag. He doesn’t exactly have the greastest diet plan. ETHNICITY: African-American && Afro-Puerto Rican. OCCUPATION: Freelance photographer, explorer, artist, F.E.A.S.T. (Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter, and Training) volunteer, Brooklyn Vision student, convenience store cashier, Dream Defender, and vigilante. GENDER: Cis-male. He/him. ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual & Demiromantic. MBTI: ENFP- the champion. Miles know how to relax, and he is perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist in the workplace to that imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit on the dance floor, often with a suddenness that can surprise even his closest friends. Being in the mix also gives him a chance to connect emotionally with others, giving him cherished insight into what motivates his friends and colleagues. He believe that everyone should take the time to recognize and express their feelings, and their empathy and sociability make that a natural conversation topic.

Few personality types are as creative and charismatic as ENFPs. Their enthusiasm and vivid imagination allow ENFPs to overcome many challenging obstacles, more often than not brightening the lives of those around them. ENFPs’ creativity is invaluable in many areas, including their own personal growth.

► SPECIFICS.

FAVOURITE FOOD: Pasteles, Empanada, Chicharon de pollo, Pop-Tarts, Platanos, Chopped Cheese, Nathan’s Famous’ hotdogs, Aunt Butchie’s Desserts (chocolate mousse preferably), Chinese food, and Ray’s Pizza. FAVOURITE DRINK: He enjoys his uncle’s Whey protein drinks, but you’ll mostly see him drinking sodas, Gatorade, O.J., and water. FAVOURITE HOBBY: Vandal by nature, Miles loves snagging Priority Mail and Hello, My Name Is stickers to practice his art and toss his mark up wherever and whenever he can. Other than that, he plays mental gymnastics for fun when it comes to math problems. If he’s not doing that, then he’s fooling around with programs like Audacity, Sony Vegas, or FL Studio.

But the activity he feels most at peace at is when he’s isolated in his room or hanging around a building as Spiderman, writing in his journal. FAVOURITE SCENT: Vanilla, Sandalwood, Shea Moisture Manuka and Yogurt. FAVOURITE PERSON: Ganke. Miles never had a brother (a reality he yearned his parents make happen), but Ganke gives him an idea as to how it would be if he did have a biological brother.

► TEN FACTS.

Miles is an only child. “Born” on December 14th, 2003.

He’s Catholic.

Adaptability comes as second nature to Miles. In two days, he managed to survive his near-death experiences as he tangled with some of the best of the original Spiderman’s villains.

Miles use to cry Martin Luther King Day because the television and radio would play clips of his speeches, and he thought sounded like a ghost.

Until he reached the age of ten, Miles had irritable bowel syndrome and would crap his pants every so often.

He owns an Atari, Sega, and Nintendo console passed down to him from his father.

One of his favorite shows is American Ninja Warrior.

Calculus is one of his favorite subjects. Numbers, symbols, and alphabets is a challenge that he can never tire from.

There’s an unshakable habit he has and that’s speaking his thoughts out loud, much to his chagrin.

His facial features mostly resemble his father and his uncle, which is can be considered a blessing and a curse, depending on the environment he’s in. Because the Davis brothers dark past had them as hustlers, stick-up kids, and graffiti artists, and their lives would take a drastic turn in where one becomes a cop and the other went on to become a boxer, the name Davis is enough to put a sour taste on the tongues of certain circles. It’s a fleeting love-hate thing he has for it.

► FIVE THINGS HE LIKES.

VIDEO GAMES — Jefferson was never comfortable with sharing his questionable deeds on the streets with his son, but he was more than excited to share his childhood glory with him. He couldn’t wait until Miles was old enough to have a controller in his hand. Miles is “heir” to a collection of dated collection. He likes modern consoles too, as he does own both a XBOX ONE and PLAYSTATION 4, but he prides in being a ‘young old soul’. GRAFFITI — It just kind of happened? He wasn’t messing with actual spraypaint because he’s too young to cop them from Home Depot, so he stuck to just stacking up on stickers and using that until he’s legally able to buy his own. HIP-HOP — That’s New York. Hip-Hop was born there. Miles passionately embraces the main four elements that represents its culture: Emceeing, DJING, Graffiti Art, Breakdancing and integrates the other five in how he moves. Street fashion, language, entrepanuership, knowldge, beatboxing, Hip-Hop is something he lives. BOXING — We can thank Aaron for his interest in that. Aside from the man’s criminal resume, Aaron graduated from neighborhood bruiser to professional boxer. His had a impeccable record before he hung up his gloves, but the passion he had for the sport stayed with him and any chance he got with his newphew, it would show when he would spit game on the greats like Mohammad Ali, Joe Fraizer, Dixie Kid, Jack Dempsey, Tyson, and others and teach him a few of his old moves. CLEANING SNEAKERS — It’s nothing deep. You watch Paid in Full a couple of times and add your love for that movie to your natural love of keeping your gear fresh and you get a sneakerhead that’s addicted to keeping his kicks mean and pristine.

► FIVE THINGS HE DISLIKES.

PEER PRESSURE — His hood didn’t have too many stars. There were plenty of potential there, but due to unfortunate circumstances, they make it out, but Miles—everybody regards him as the gold representation. Because of his upbringings, Miles is sort of hood royalty in a positive sense. On one hand, he enjoys it appreciation, but on the other hand, he hates it because his father doesn’t make it easy on him at all. He doesn’t judge his father for doing what he had to do in the streets to survive, but he hates his father for shoving his demons down his throat. Becoming Spiderman was nothing to leap for him to leap excitedly over either. Being stressed with being the “good son”, the “golden boy” of his neighborhood, and acing studies was enough as is. Since Peter Parker and his uncle’s murder, he felt tremendous guilt over not being able to help, and with his abilities, he feels strong on his moral obligation to do what he can to be New York’s protector. It’s not the easiest weight for a teenager to carry. E X P E C T A T I O N S! eff dem! UNDERESTIMATED — In school, he dealt with a teacher that regarded him and kids like him as trash that would never be able to amount to anything. The Spider-gang didn’t think he had what it takes, making him feel as if he was a burden and incapable of being strong enough to keep his promise to his universe’s Peter Parker. He doesn’t do well with people acting like he can’t do anything. TALES FROM THE HOOD — Doesn’t particularly care to hear about criminal exploits, especially the ones his family participated in. Some kids would love to hear about how hard their peers went in the street—Miles isn’t one of them. If anything, he wishes he was oblivious to it and didn’t have to hear one related word to it. That’s one thing he’s thankful for when it comes to his dad and Aaron. They never bragged or felt inclined to share gorey details and for good reason. Miles know they and everyone else want better for him. LYING — His mama raised him to be a honest boy. His pops raised him to be a man of principle. His uncle instilled street honor in him. Other than that? Miles naturally hates lying. It doesn’t make him feel good and can actually make him a serious nervous wreck if it gets to be too much for him. FIGHTING — Even though he was taught self-defense and enjoyed his boxing lessons, Miles avoided conflict as much as he could. He preferred to just be that cool guy that can make friends with the whole world and keep it pushing. He accepts that it’s unavoidable as a superhero, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to come to a peaceful resolve before the situation gets nasty.

► WORDS / PHRASES THAT ANNOY HIM.

CLASSISM — I know it’s not a word/phrase, so I’ll just say toxic braggadocio statements. When it comes to skin color, religion, abilities (supernatural or mortal), lienage, whatever—Miles views them all as people that share the same oxygen and should treat each other like they’re aware of that. Being made to feel like a sub-human aggravates him more than he cares to admit (he once broke his classroom desk because of his teacher constant poking at the african diaspora).

► PERSONALITY TYPES HE PREFERS.

FREE SPIRITS — Chilled souls; people that are down to do whatever they please (in a healthy, non-violent way), and exudes positive energy. It’s nice to be around individuals that understands what it means to have fun without restrictions and not people that live by some book like his father. You can miss him with those that feels like they have to be tight asses all the time.

► PERSONALITY TYPES HE AVOIDS.

GOD COMPLEX — Kingpins/drug lords/gang leaders/criminal upstarts, just people that play God in the streets, dictating who lives and dies, just because they have a gun and have a little bit of power. There’s not a doubt in his mind that there will be elements in the underworld that’s going to try to seduce him to the life. It’s a mission of his to not fall into the same darkness that stained the Davis name. You will never see Miles becoming close friends with a thug or a wannabee. He’ll try to steer them clear of it and be a moral compass of course, but having that as a part of his inner circle is a big no.

#GENUINE DIME—I OPENED MY MIND / HEADCANONS #(I may come back and edit this in the future)#queue

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monkeystrokes8 · 3 years

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FIRST SET.

Bill spotted Charlene coming into the bar as the drummer-of-the-week put a shimmer on the high-hat for an overdramatic finish to “I Still Miss Someone,” meant to tug heartstrings but making Bill laugh. Probably because they were only five songs into the set and he’d already downed half an Old Style and three fingers of tequila and Charlene was especially dolled up in a velvet-curtain red jumpsuit, white fringe spilling off her shoulders like carwash drying strips.

It was a worrisome moment too. Like the song said, there was a real good chance he’d "never get over those blue eyes."

The crawl of circling dancers quickened as Del hit the opening notes of “Fox on the Run.” Coca-cola cowboys in white straw Stetsons two-stepping with Mary Kay consultants flirting with hippie college kids shuffling around with unstoppable geriatrics. The Broken Axle was the most confounding joint Bill ever played, a broke-down country-western roadhouse smack dab in the middle of an R&B mecca. The Sunday afternoon gig was a three-hour affair, a last hurrah before the tragedy of Monday morning, with time to sleep most it off.

Charlene blew Del a kiss and settled into her regular booth with the books. From the angle of his piano bench, Bill could steal as many looks her way as he could handle. A blessing and a curse.

Bill never intended to fall for the May pinup girl recently hitched to December’s falling Nashville star taking one final bow as proprietor and house-band leader of a honky-tonk Memphis bar. But after just a few weeks playing this gig, Charlene was in Bill's head but good. Anyway,it wasn’t all his fault. She kinda started it.

In about an hour, Del would call his young wife to the stage for a George-Tammy or Porter-Dolly or Conway-Loretta number to end the second set. As mismatched as their ages, they made a classic country duo, and true to stereotype of young women knocking boots with yesterday’s headliners, Charlene’s eye seemed to wander. Last week, leaning into the mic for harmony on "Golden Rings” she glanced past her husband’s neck to give the new kid on keys a salacious wink that would make Tanya Tucker blush.

Del Hopkins and the Railroad Spikes was once the hot ticket; Saturday nights at the Ryman, flame-job customized tour bus, 8x10 taped to the front window at Ernie’s Record Shop. The reason Bill took this gig. A resume including a stintwith the man who co-wrote “Double Eagles on a Single Bed” opened doors.

He was just setting out. He'd heard the horror stories coming out of Nashville. The Broken Axle on Sunday afternoon was the place for an ivory-tickler with a quarter in his pocket and a shirt on his back. Riding a legend’s coattails in a town where he could afford rent.

At the casual audition, after running through Del’s mandatories (Ray Price, Charlie Rich and other piano-centric standards) on the bar’s banged-up but surprisingly bright tack piano, Del offered him a trial run that Sunday, “That is, if you think you can keep up.”

Del wasn’t talking about music. “Sunday's a party here,” he said. “We play it loose, have a big time, and the crowd follows suit. A day of hoots, hollers, longnecks and picklebacks. And I expect the band to lead the charge."

That was the deal. You had to drink like a steam locomotive and still stay in key. According to Del, it didn’t get tricky until halfway through the second set, when the boozin’ picked up speed like the Orange Blossom Special.

“Only trouble we ever had was a drummer who went squirrely and turned into Neil Peart after a couple shots. But our last piano player handled it fine. May he rest in peace.” Del raised his bottle.

It was a smart business model. Del would mumble something into the mic about being thirsty, or hair of the dog. Fans jumped to buy the band shots. Del would lift his glass. “Bless your hearts, you sweet things,” “Thankee kindly to the good folks at Table 5”, etcetera, then roar the Hee Haw catchphrase, “Sa-lute!” The crowd would howl like a pack of hounds picking up a scent and head to the bar for shots of their own. Then Del would do the Ole Possum hiccup and cheek-pop from "White Lightnin’." The crowd drank it up.

And therein lay the rub. Bill didn’t drink hard liquor. Gave him the spins. A couple beers, fine, but liquor was not his friend. Never had been.

The first time the pigtailed barmaid showed up with a trayful, Bill tried to slyly dump his shot into the cuff of his Wranglers. The crowd bellowed and Del cracked wise about how he thought Carolina hillbillies were wet-nursed from a still.

From then on, Bill did his best. The band was harmless enough: a doughy family man with a penchant for thrift-store ties on stand-up; wispy-haired guy with a scrunched-up face on fiddle; and drummer-of-the-week, so far a runaway teenager, a poker-faced Lurch and a grizzled hipster looking like he just woke up. Whoever felt like sitting in. Del handled vocals and guitar, white pompadour piled ridiculously high, Sun Session tee with rolled-up sleeves, silver-dollar-studded Telecaster on his knee.

The problem was Charlene. When Cupid runs out of arrows, he calls his pal, Inebriation, the cherub with the cocktail shaker of Love Potion #9. Bill pried his eyes from the curvaceous cowgirl, pushed the soft crush of velvet out of his head, and concentrated on the 88s.

Del hit the closing licks of “Mama Tried” and the band broke for smokes and leaks.

Charlene was waiting at the edge of the stage with a chopped-pork sandwich on a paper plate. “You hungry, sugar?”

Bill hesitated. Was it proper to accept a BBQ sandwich from another man's wife you’ve pictured wearing nothing but a smile?

“Oh. Hey. Thanks.”

Before he could take the plate, Charlene walked it to her booth. “C’mon over here, baby. Let's get to know each other a little.”

She slid into the banquette. Red velvet on red vinyl, a devil's playground. Bill took a nervous glance around, then looked at the sandwich, determined not to make eye contact.

He’d seen sandwiches coming out of the closet-sized kitchen slopped together by the cook who also maintained the ancient building's plumbing and electric. This one was made with TLC, the perfect balance of sauce and slaw, hickory-smoked hunks tucked neatly in a warm bun. Had she made it herself?

“So you just moved from Carolina, huh? All by your lonesome?”

The word “lonesome” struck a chord. A sour one.

He was alone in a small apartment in a greasy-grit-gravy town. It wasn’t just sex he was missing. He was looking for a friend, too.

Bill squirmed. Del was nowhere in sight, but with the whole bar stealing looks in their direction, he felt more on stage than when on stage. He nodded yes and took a bite.

And then, goddammit, he looked in her eyes. A pale-blue invitation to go skinny-dipping.

The eyes on the back of Carly Simon’s first album. Eyes he’d been in love with since rummaging his father’s record collection at age six.

And Carly’s lips. Charlene had those, too.

Bill didn’t put all his love marbles on looks, but he believed in physiognomy. Granddaddy was the spitting image Jimmy Stewart, and by god, they were the same stand-up guy,cracking knuckles and folksy truths.

And here, glowing like a heat lamp over a BBQ sandwich, was the face of his dream girl. He couldn’t help but think--just like Carly sang it--loving her would be “the right thing to do.”

“Well you won’t be flying solo for long, I’m sure of that. Cutie pie like you is gonna get scooped up lickety-split in this town.

Bill was hoping his infatuation would cool. Now she was calling him “Cutie pie.” Worst of all, Del was a decent guy.

An impatient snare drum counted down. The band was back. Bill looked from the raised eyebrows of Del to Charlene to his half-eaten sandwich.

Charlene gave his arm a pat. “I’ll wrap it for you.”

There was a shot waiting on the piano.

SECOND SET.

“You’re leaving us hanging, boy,” Del twanged. “Much obliged to the lovely fillies who drove all the way from Knoxville. Sa-lute!”

Tequila. Bill swallowed his gag reflex as the band kicked into “Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line.”

The dance floor filled, promenade line colliding like state-fair bumper cars.Del took a request that Bill had to fake his way through. Thankfully, Charlene would be up soon with her usual song list.

Only she wouldn’t. The music stopped, and Del reached for the tallboy tucked into an overturned toilet plunger clamped to his mic stand. Charlene gave a playful finger snap and he dug out keys and jangled them,teasing her, then handed them over.

“You know I love my wife,” Del told the crowd, “when I let her drive the Caddy.” Del drove a 1966 red convertible. “But we’ve got important people flying in from Nashville today, and they get the best. Y'all are just gonna have to put up with us ugly plugs until she gets back.” Charlene blew another kiss and waved goodbye to the bar. There was a chorus of comic disappointment, followed by opening licks of “Kiss an Angel Good Morning.”

Important people from Nashville. That explained Charlene’s get-up. Del had lots of old pals from his salad days in the biz. Bill fantasized some big-buckled scout discovering the fresh talent on keys. “Son, I'm gonna make you a star.”

The band was two verses into “Streets of Bakersfield" when a procession of rowdy bikers in cheap leather vests plowed though the front door. Sunday cruisers, bellying to the bar slapping clumsy high fives. By the sound of it, this wasn’t their first stop.

Del didn’t seem to notice.

Pigtails was back at the stage with another trayful. Bill suddenly didn’t feel so hot. Del raised a glass. “This one goes out to the cowpunchers at Table 8,

May you never lose a stirrup, May you never waste a loop; May your can stay full of syrup, And your gizzard full of whoop!

Sa-lute!

The fiddle player screeched into “Orange Blossom Special.”

Holy hell. Bill was smashed.

The bar roared with drunken thunder as the Special picked up speed, chug-a-chugging through the pass like a runaway train, pistons clanking, smoke belching, letting off steam, as the fiddler tried to saw his instrument in half. Woot woot!

Del was grinning wide, the bell of the antique register clanging away like the Old 97. As the train pulled mercifully into the station with a final scratch of the fiddle, Del made a slashing sign across his throat. Break time.

“Play some Johnny Paycheck!” One of the bikers.

Del held up a palm. “The boys and I are getting pretty tuckered up here, gonna take a pause for the cause and be right back for the last set.”

The bikers weren’t having it. “Paycheck!”

Bill knew from experience. Always keep an eye on yahoos yelling "Paycheck!" These guys were assholes.

Del remained composed. “You fellas cool it. Don’t start no shit there won’t be no shit.” He took a swill of beer. “Back in ten. Play nice, everybody.”

Bill stood up, his head spinning. He bolted out the fire exit for some fresh air. And possibly a place to puke.

Charlene was back, leaning against the Caddy, now wearing a denim jacket, daintily puffing a cigarette (she smokes?) talking to an older gent in a rumpled suit and woman in a flowered dress that reminded him of his mother. VIPs? Whoever they were, they’d seen flashier days. Nonetheless, Del seemed overjoyed to see them, bounding over with enthusiastic handshakes and kisses. “C’mon in, we’ve saved you the best table in the house!” Charlene waved them away, lingering to finish her smoke.

The bikers came ‘round the corner. Bill smelled reefer. "Hey-hey mama say the way you move, gonna make sweat gonna make you groove," one sang with hackle-raising lechery.

Within seconds, Charlene was surrounded by the saddlefat gang of wanna-be toughs, like a fat farm production of West Side Story.One darted forward as if to touch her ass, then pulled away, a show-off kid putting his hand over a fire.

The tequila did the talking. “Piss off, dick lips,” Bill said.

Five heads twisted. “Excuse me, douchebag?" said a gray flattop.

“You heard me fuckface.” Bill balled a fist, then remembered the piano player’s credo. Protect the hands at all costs. He was praying for a crowbar to magically appear when a bald guy the size of a gas pump cold-cocked him in the nose. Lights out.

THIRD SET.

He woke surrounded by cases of beer and canned tomatoes. Charlene was dabbing his bleeding nose with a bar towel.

“There you are. Big man without a plan. How you feelin’, honey?”

Bill adjusted his makeshift pillow, a restaurant-sized pack of corn tortillas. “Okay, I guess. Stupid, but okay.”

“Ain’t nothing more heroic than a man who can’t fight jumping into one. Specially defending a damsel in distress.”

The glorious lips descended onto his, her face backlit by the storeroom fluorescents. Bill allowed himself two seconds of heaven, make that ten, okay screw it, a full stanza, before turning away.

He was about to sputter this ain’t right or some such nonsense when Charlene entered the storeroom. Bill blinked. He was either hallucinatory drunk or suffering one mighty concussion. Seeing double. Two Charlenes looked down at him.

“I see you two are getting along just like I thought you would.” Charlene looked at Charlene. “Give the guy a chance to wake up, Carla. Otherwise you’re taking advantage.”

“He’s as cute as you said, Charlene. Sweet, too. You know what I like alright.”

“Twins know.”

“Indeed we do.” Carla stroked Bill’s hair, laying the damp towel on his forehead. “Everything good out there?”

“Fine and dandy. Del and a couple cowboys ran them a-holes off, they was scooting anyway thanks to Prince Valiant here. Worried about getting sued or whatever BarcaLounger bikers worry about."

“Mom and Dad good?”

“Yep, already having a time. Dad’s eating peaches and peanut butter, and Mom just bought a round. She wants to know if you’re okay.” Charlene shifted her gaze to Bill. “Del says take the rest of the day off, and I’m gonna dedicate 'Fist City’ to you for sticking up for my Sis."

Charlene turned to leave, stopping at the switch by the door. “You two coming out, or should I turn the lights off?”

Bill grinned, still goofy. He play-slapped Carla on the thigh. “Go have a shot with your folks, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Baby, that’s the one thing that separates me from my sister,” Carla cooed. “I can’t drink worth a damn.”

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professorsparklepants · 7 years

Text

Girlvek secret marriage au

(AKA: Falling in love with Gil Hotzfaller was the worst mistake Tarveka ever made).

So, here’s what I got:

Tarveka “Veka” Sturmvoraus, the eight year old second daughter of the Prince of Sturmhalten, begs, pleads, and weeps crocodile tears until her father sends her to Castle Wulfenbach to be educated with the future rulers of Europa. There she meets orphan-without-a-past Gil Hotzfaller, who quickly becomes her best friend, and when they break into the records vault looking for his family records, instead of staying behind to dig deeper, she runs after Gil to try and comfort him. Neither of them get caught.

Several years pass. Both of them break through remarkably early, likely around the same time, and they’re told by the Baron to keep Gil’s spark quiet (sensibly, Veka thinks, since a breakthrough this young in a boy without any family will draw the attention of a great deal of people eager to piss off the baron). Other than the Baron and Von Pinn, she’s the only person who knows about it, since she just happened to be in the fight place at the right time, which was next to Gil, where she always is.

(I haven’t decided when exactly Gil found out about his real parentage, but it’s somewhere around his breakthrough. Gil gets scared into keeping quiet, but his friendship with Veka never suffers because he knew she was his friend even before he was someone important).

Somewhere around 13 or 14 she and Gil start quietly dating. It’s an open secret among the kids at the school, who’ve known they were going to and up together for YEARS, but since Gil is a nobody and Veka is 50 families they know to keep quiet and save the two of them grief. Everything seems to be going great until their first big fight as a couple, because it’s a BAD one. Veka wants to look into Gil’s family more, because she remembers how miserable he was after the vault and knows something else is going on. Gil reacts badly and accuses her of not caring about anyone unless they’re useful to her. Veka snaps back that Gil has been anything but useful to her. Gil says he’s been useful enough keeping all of her secrets. Things deteriorate further from there; they both run off in a huff.

Gil mentions the fight (if not the context) to his father, because Veka looking into his past is something he knows the Baron doesn’t want. Klaus then proceeds to over-react and expel Veka from the school.... without telling Gil. Veka is under the impression that Gil went to the Baron and sold her out. Gil is under the impression that Veka threw a fit and decided to break up with him in the most definitive way possible. She refuses to look at him or say goodbye when she leaves.

Several bitter, miserable years pass.

After living with her father’s terrifying and ethically unsettling agenda for god knows how long, Tarveka finally able to escape and attend university in Paris. She’s not free, because the Mongfishes rubbed their dirty fingerprints all over the Order and there’s no way to escape their agenda, but she’s as good as she can get. Maybe while she’s gone she can formulate a plan to scrub the order down.

Mostly she ends up finding dead bodies at society parties, but that’s practically normal in her family. Developing a hobby of amateur detective work is not, but it’s significantly more fun, and she gets a good friendship with Colette Voltaire out of it, so everybody wins. She’s almost starting to enjoy herself when she runs into Gil again.

Their first meeting is not pleasant. Neither is the second. Or the third, or the fourth.... For two people who hate each other, Colette is fond of pointing out (to the both of them) they tend to meet a lot. Tarveka is fairly certain it’s because the universe hates her. It’s the only explanation.

After several vaguely humorous events where Gil ends up crashing one of Tarveka’s cases, or Veka ends up caught in Gil’s adventures, or their two seemingly unrelated genres of after-school activities turn out to have been entangled from the beginning, the two of them settle into a vitriolic partnership founded on mutual survival and Not Talking About It, With Anyone, Not Even If You Paid Me Colette. The turning point is when they get into a REALLY BAD fight where they drag up all the stuff that happened on the castle and find out that both of them have different stories and someone must be wrong here, and maybe it’s both of us.

I’m not sure on the specifics of how their relationship progresses from there but I’m sure it involves a lot of attempted murder and rampaging monsters and slow burn, and the two of them in various stages of undress due to action scene clothing damage and pulpy fan-service tropes. At one point Colette suggests that Gil knock Veka up so she can retire from politics in disgrace to become Paris’ greatest dressmaker and everyone chokes on their drinks in horror (Wooster) and embarrassment (Gil and Veka). Maybe there’s fake dating. Eventually they start REAL dating again, and Veka makes a lot of jokes about Gil being her kept man, and everything is (mostly) great.

This is where the secret marriage plot comes in.

Martellus comes to town for a few weeks and pays more attention to Tarveka than normal. Like, a weird amount of attention. He danced with her four times at the last ball they both went to, and even spending time “keeping Grandma company” hadn’t deterred him. She’d been forced to resort to throwing eligible young ladies with power hungry mothers at him to keep him away from her.

Meanwhile, Anevka’s letters start mentioning lab accidents at Sturmhalten--specifically, her lab. They never have lab accidents at home. The idea is ludicrous, which means someone is trying to kill Anevka and not even bothering to be subtle about it. Which in their family is a long list.

She doesn’t think to connect the two until she has a dream one night where she’s the sovereign Princess of Sturmhalten, happy and glowing, congratulated by her many powerful and influential guests who all adore her. Someone asks if she’s looking forward to the coronation, and she replies Only as much as my husband is! And an arm wraps around her waist and she leans into it as Tweedle kisses her cheek and calls her wife and she wakes up in a cold sweat.

She and Anevka are the only thing standing between Tweedle and incontestable rule of Europa. If either of them have sons, their claim will be better than Tweedle’s, unless they’re his sons. Anevka is dangerous and stubborn and would castrate him with a socket wrench if she knew he was even considering it, but everyone thought Veka was a pushover who did whatever her father told her because that was the price of surviving. Grandma hadn’t stopped Tweedle from dancing with her even though Veka knew she was the favorite grandchild, which meant either she was in on it or she was expecting Veka to solve her own problems, and if Grandma wasn’t openly supporting her then she had little chance of talking her father around, and she would have to marry Tweedle, and have his children, and let him touch her--

TWEEDLE CAN’T MARRY HER IF SHE’S ALREADY MARRIED TO SOMEBODY ELSE.

This is more of a ”panic at 3 am” plan than a Tarveka plan but when she wakes up (again) the next morning it seems like a good idea, because she’s actually still panicking. Gil spits out his coffee when she brings it up and then Colette spits out her tea when they ask her to be the witness.

In the future when asked, Gil’s defense for going through with this is 20% “I thought it was just technical and she would ask for an annulment later” and 80% “I didn’t actually believe it was really happening until we literally signing the marriage contract”. Tarveka’s is, besides the aforementioned panicking, “AT THE TIME Gil was the only person I trusted not to take advantage of me”. Colette, when asked, claims that a. they were clearly hopelessly in love, b. she knew that Tarveka was miserable at home and would be even more so if she ever broke up with Gil to get a political marriage, and c. the fallout was going to be HILARIOUS. (None of which are WRONG, per-say).

There’s a short honeymoon period until Gil realizes that like.... if they’re.... actually doing this.... he should probably like.... actually tell Veka who he is. So they have a serious talk about the trajectory of their relationship and how neither of them actually wants a divorce and at one point probably like, mush, and then he tells her. And she is SUPER PISSED. Especially since lying about your identity makes it a voidable marriage.

To quote Doc, who gave me permission to steal this piece of gold:

"Hey, I'm still the same Gil you know and love, right?" "Sentimentally, YES! Legally, NO!"

Like, this puts her in an amazing political position over the order and tbh most of Europa but she’s still SUPER PISSED because she married Gil specifically because she loves him and thought she could trust him and the fact that he was lying to her about this! For years! Even when they were kids! Fucks her up a little.

Right in the middle of this emotional shit show is when Tarveka finds out her sister is dying. She makes up with Gil, a little, when she’s leaving (and she has to leave, because even if Anevka was a menace and made her skin crawl she’s still her sister), and promises they’ll talk more if when she comes back.

THEN she finds out their father put Anevka into the summoning machine, and more panicking happens. Because her father put his DAUGHTER and HEIR into the summoning machine to get possessed by his EX-GIRLFRIEND and after he got over his hypocritical grief there was no proof he wouldn’t try it again with the spare.

I imagine that the extra years spent on Castle Wulfenbach gave Veka time and space to come to the same conclusions Tarvek gets to in canon when he finally has time away from his family--that no one deserves the sort of thing Lucrezia wanted to do to them. The difference here being that she got thrown back into it as a young teenage girl with the implication that as long as she was good, she’d be safe. This is proof that was a lie, and that she’s never been safe here at all, and maybe only survived through luck.

Clearly now the only way to make sure she survives long enough to heal Anevka is to cut her father and the Other out of the equation altogether. So... she contacts the Baron about the veritable army living underneath her town, armed with dozens of hive engines. As you do.

I think you guys can imagine how exactly that goes.

After everyone that needs killing’s been killed and everything that needs handling is being handled, the Baron tracks her down and demands to know why he shouldn’t just kill her immediately for treason and harboring Agents of the Other.

To which her response is “Because I’m your daughter-in-law.”

And that’s where things start getting interesting.

#i need a tag for this #secret marriage au #lectures #girl genius #why did i spend 2 hours on this rip #genderbending

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viktornikifororv · 7 years

Text

FIC RECS FOR THE SOUL

Hey you guys! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I’ve thought of making a part two for my first ficrec and here it is! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve enjoyed making this ficlist. Have a great time reading all these! Gives you more of a chance to fall in love with Victuuri even more! ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡ As always, read the tags before reading because some might have some triggers, also, don’t forget to leave a kudos for the authors!

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Dog People by stillmadaboutpetra

Yuuri thinks his life is progressing nicely. Good job. Nice apartment. Boyfriend? Nevermind: cheating ex boyfriend

His blackout drunken antics attract the young Olympic-gold level skater, Victor Nikiforov, who's fled from skating in the middle of the season after fainting on the ice.

It all sounds very serendipitous but Yuuri wants nothing to do with men. Victor, desperate and running from his problems, promises that instead of a man, he'll be Yuuri's "pet" if that means he can stay with Yuuri for a little, citing that he has nowhere else to turn. Yuuri's concerned that this shameless man who is willing to sacrifice his dignity so readily will get himself in trouble, so he accepts the offer with second-hand embarrassment.

This gambit lasts for all of two days before Yuuri finds himself teaching an ice skater how to dance off his blades, and Victor starts finding new reasons to stay in Japan.

Panta Rhei by Kashoku

This was a mistake. Viktor needed to somehow pry Yuuri off of him and leave the room immediately. Viktor was drunk, and Yuuri was so far beyond gone that there wasn’t even a word for it. But the alpha in Viktor was having an incredibly difficult time resisting the pungent scent of cherry blossoms and ocean that filled his nose. Viktor snapped.

They had been reckless.

Five Times Katsuki Yuuri Misses and "I love you" (and one time he doesn't) by preciousbunnynoiz

Sometimes an I love you is missed by the person it's directed at and Yuuri is hardly the most observant of people.

Fiance Tag by kissyuuri (weesynthpixie)

Yuuri knows they were celebrating....something. But he can't remember what. All he knows is that he was drunk and that he's going to kill Phichit because chances are Phichit started all of this. And there might have been some video recording?

of course it's not like in the movies by luni

Yuuri didn't know what he expected when having sex with Viktor Nikiforov stopped being a teenage fantasy and turned into reality.

One thing is for sure: it's not like in the movies.

An Aviator's Heart by Kagami_Sorako

Teenager Yuuri always thought his future would be on the ice. But it changed when one day he finds a dragon egg. Curious he brings it home and soon the dragon hatches and Yuuri finds himself inexplicably drawn to him. After Aoba and him are found out, they have to enter the Dragon Air Force and Yuuri has to proof himself to the other dragon captains, the Air Corps and the whole military, all the while having to care for a way too curious and intelligent dragon.

Eight years later Yuuri is a highly decorated officer and war hero and meets his long lasting Figure Skating Idol Viktor Nikiforov. After a lot of problems and confusion, Viktor and Yuuri grow closer. Everything could be perfect ... if it weren't for an overly possessive and jealous dragon who is not at all pleased at the idea of sharing his beloved captain and aviator with an insolent and ungrateful Figure Skater.

Well This Sucks by mayelisa

Over the past few hundred years, Victor Nikiforov has perfected the art of luring women (and the occasional man) into his arms for an evening of passion and blood lust. But when he targets an unsuspecting college student, he quickly finds out that his antiquated techniques won't cut it in the modern world and he needs to rethink things.

Nothing Holding Me Back by smolyuuri

They've come back from a mission that almost costed Victor's life. Yuuri is frustrated at Victor for allowing that to happen and gives him a reason to always stay safe.

moonrise by fan_nerd

Prince Katsuki and Crown Prince Nikiforov have been dancing around each other for many seasons. After several moonlit meetings, they finally decide to formalize a union.

all that glitters by fan_nerd

Victor keeps looking at his coach's lips. He puts a hand to his chest in utter frustration. Yuuri is just so, so unfairly handsome, and this fact is slowly killing him.

Yuuri turns to him, pushing up his glasses and quirking an eyebrow at his Russian student. "What's wrong?"

I love you desperately, he thinks.

Aloud, Victor says, "Oh, nothing."

fawning by fan_nerd

Victor is sloppy drunk. Yuri Plisetsky snaps pictures of the silver-haired man unbuttoning his jacket.

"You see that guy?" Victor slurs, hiccuping around a fresh mouthful of champagne. "That's...that's the best guy in the world. Do you - mmm - do you think he would say yes if I asked him to dance?" After a pause, he belts out the GPF gold medalist's name.

Yuuri turns with a tipsy smile.

The Japanese man is so handsome, and Victor, who's currently wasted, is so screwed.

cover story by fan_nerd

Yuuri stares down at the person standing in the doorway. The stranger hisses, "Who do you think you are, anyways?"

Quickly, before he can really think about it, Yuuri responds, "I'm Victor's boyfriend."

It's a lie, but the words feel good in his mouth, and for some reason, he doesn't want to take them back.

Paperback by tachyarrhythmia

For Yuuri, managing a quaint, little bookstore in a far-off corner of a small town is everything he could have asked for. He earns well, the folks are not that much interesting, the coffee here is great, he has nice friends and he's got an endless pile of books.

It's enough to make him stay, despite the desolate and boring atmosphere; that is until the Newcomer comes along.

Healthy Impropriety by mtothedestiel

Victor is the wealthy master of the Nikiforov estate. At a society party he's swept off his feet by the mysterious, suave, and very drunk Katsuki Yuuri.

Victor aims to declare his love and secure Mr. Katsuki's hand in marriage, but first he has to find him!

Years of Dreams Just Can't be Wrong by bisexualnikiforov

buddy it's the yuri!!! on ice anastasia au that no one asked for but i'm writing anyway

ebony & ivory by wbtrashking (fan_nerd)

Yuuri jumps when someone hurries into the elevator, apologizing profusely.

The apartment complex is full of eccentrics, seeing as it's only a few miles from the artistic center of town. It isn't the first time that the concert pianist has run into someone who's late for work, fussing with their hair, or adjusting the lapels of a suit. Yuuri taps out a rhythm to fill the silence, something original.

When he sees the silver-haired man pull out a notebook, he recognizes the handwriting. Notes had been slipped under his door in that loopy script for weeks now.

This handsome man is his upstairs neighbor.

starstruck by shizuoh

"Hold my son for a moment," says the Viktor Nikiforov, live in the flesh, sweaty and panting.

"Wha—" Yuuri can't even begin to comprehend what's going on before Viktor is gone, and there's a child in his arms.

(in which yuuri is a simple barista, viktor is a famous movie star, and yuri is an 8 year old kid stuck in the middle of it.)

Dear Mama by Ferrero13

In which Victor writes letters to his mother, who is fifty percent of his rationality and self-control.

Love by Ghost Hunting by FullmetalKarneval13

When Viktor gets into a slump, he meets the beautiful Yuuri at a bed and breakfast while on vacation.

(Basically a ghost hunting AU where ghosts love Viktor, and possessing Yuuri)

Intermission by thepurpleeyedone

Drabble series set between episodes as a kind of intermission. (Hence, the name.) The first one is set between episode 6 and episode 7. Yuri has just put on his first perfect performance, and understandably, he’s a little worn out and stressed. Victor, being the world’s greatest coach, rises to the occasion by providing him with some... distractions.

In the Cold of the Night by impolitecanadian

AU in which Yuuri never skated and instead is a small town cop with no idea who Victor Nikiforov, THE Victor Nikiforov, is until he arrests him for public intoxication. Meanwhile Victor is enamoured, and absolutely plastered.

Like a Fairytale by lucycamui

In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his 'Cinderella' Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he's doing).

“The crown prince of the Nikiforov kingdom, infatuated with a mystery pastry chef he’s only just met. This is exactly the kind of scandalous love story my life has been missing… So, what’s he look like? What exactly is Prince Victor’s type?”

“…Sweet.”

“Well, he does make pastries."

Moving to New York by moya_lyubov

Artist Yuuri Katsuki lives in New York with his Best Friend Phichit. After a drunken night out that Yuuri has no memory of, he starts to Paint the most Beautiful man he has ever dreamed of. Only to realize that not only has he met this man, he has danced and laughed the night away with him.

Billionaire Victor Nikiforov, has made a living in the hotel business, owning the best hotels all around the world. His next one: New York. Where he and his Best Friend/Business Partner Chris meet a Charming, Flirtatious and Mysterious man on a night out to celebrate the deal.

a Song for Your Heart by KenmaNyan (NarryEm)

It’s not an exaggeration when Yuuri says that he has had his eyes on Viktor ever since the singer debuted with a heartbreaking ballad that broke records at the tender age of 15. Now, with Yuuri at the ripe old age of 23 and Viktor, 27, they meet as talent and manager.

A Week Is Enough by BeautyButterBae

Yuuri asks Victor to become his boyfriend for a week.

Victor agrees.

constellations of me and you by theargonaut

He can’t look away from Viktor, even when he turns and catches him staring. Truth be told, he can never look away from Viktor. Not even in the beginning; surely, not in any dimension or attic of spacetime, could Katsuki Yuuri have ever looked away from Viktor Nikiforov. And when Viktor looks back at him, smiling, it’s all that matters to him.

rekindling by fan_nerd

Victor stands on Yuuri's doorstep in the pouring rain with a bouquet of flowers. It's the middle of the night. The tall man is out of breath, soaking wet, and his eyes are red.

Yuuri sighs, letting his ex-boyfriend in like the sympathetic fool that Victor knows he is. "What are you doing here?"

He hurries to catch his breath and reply, but his mouth is dry.

Victor doesn't exactly have an answer to that question.

When the Sun Met the Moon by Birdieee

There are two kingdoms in the land. The first is the realm of the sun. It is a place of prosperity and growth, of peace and light. It is the realm of all things bright and beautiful. The second, less desirable kingdom, is the realm of the moon. It is a place of shadows and shrouded velvet, of secrets and hidden truths. The rulers of the two kingdoms are as distant as the stars themselves, yet the invisible thread of fate binds them together. What happens when the sun and the moon fall in love?

Gotta Like, Like Those Humans by Shermanshire

"I am going to like, like a human!" Were the exact words that Yuuri had said as a child. They were also the exact words Yurri kept with him for more than a decade later as a loveless vampire. After thinking his words were nothing more than fantasy Yuuri happens to meet the Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov. Now Yuuri has become a thirsty vampire whom's human crush maybe even thirstier.

matched by bigspoonnoya

Viktor Nikiforov considers himself an excellent matchmaker, but there's one love life he can't seem to get right: his own.

ascent by kevystel

Viktor learns that a full week without Yuuri showing up at Yakov’s, all scraped-wire voice and double shot of whatever you have that helps people think, I have a paper to write and I haven’t slept since Saturday, please Viktor! is a good week for Yuuri. A very good week.

(magical coffeeshop dancer au)

sing, sweet nightingale by vityuu (nanahoney)

Once upon a time is how fairytales start.

Once upon a time would Yuuri’s sister say when he was tucked into bed, balancing a thick book on her knees.

Once upon a time would Victor’s mother say, with his father leaning against her, watching her with soft warmth; a fire one could touch without getting burned.

Once upon a time is how their story started, too.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who breathed life into Victor’s battered heart, surrounded with champagne and flickers of flame in his eyes.

Once upon a time, there was a man who took Yuuri’s breath away, even in the dark.

Once upon a time was different for them both.

But it brought them both exactly where they needed to be.

Tremble by krazyanimegirl

"I'm Yuuri." Though his stutter was gone his blush wasn't, which annoyed Viktor to no end. He extended his hand, which Satarou took far too quickly and shook far too long. Now there was definitely a weird feeling bubbling up in his stomach; but it wasn't pain...it was something that just made Viktor want to wrap his hands around Satarou's neck and pull his- and pull Yuuri away from him. Because the sight of someone else touching Yuuri, holding him- made Viktor tremble.

It was the unmistakable emotion of jealousy.

Our bodies won't be the only things battling for dominance by hinatella

Victor is very confused, and, unsurprisingly, very gay.

I’ve got a raging [redacted] and the cause is the sound of your laughter by hinatella

Yuuri is trying to cope with the fact that he has to work with an ex-villain, and here’s a list of ways not to do that.

I can be your devil or your angel, baby by hinatella

Yuuri Katsuki didn’t ask for any of this, and he’s starting to question all of his life choices that lead up to this cursed moment.

Cool Patrol by PandorasBox (AdriannaRhode)

“Well the way I see it, there are two options,” said Phichit, “We can buy booze at the grocery store and go back to someone’s hotel, or we can find a bar and have a few drinks there.”

Yuuri, who had been hovering at the back of the group, seemed to perk up at the idea of drinks.

“Why not both?”

(A companion piece to "The Yuri Katsuki Support Group")

The Yuri Katsuki Support Group by PandorasBox (AdriannaRhode)

yuri katsudon: UNLESS I AM VERY MUCH MISTAKEN yuri katsudon: WHICH IS NOT OUT OF THE QUESTION AT THIS POINT yuri katsudon: VICTOR NIKIFOROV IS ALSEEP ON MY FLOOR

(aka The Entire First Season of Yuri!!! On Ice as told by The Great Figure Skating Group Chat)

The Devil Wears Gucci by Multiple_Universes

Christophe Giacometti watched the new interviewee walk out of Victor’s office. Everything about him was wrong from the clothes and the haircut to his general attitude and walk. At the same time there was something naïve about him and Chris was prepared to bet that he’d just graduated from college. “Who is that sad little person?” he asked Victor. “Are we doing a before and after piece I don’t know about?”

good morning, you by forev

He looks into the mirror, and almost faints. Almost straight up passes the fuck out. Because there, staring back at him, is Victor mother-effing Nikiforov. He feels like he might die.

or; there can never be enough bodyswap fics, so here's another

Put the Cameras away! by JackalopeQueen

Viktor didn’t like this he didn’t like this one bit. But this was his mate’s decision after all and whatever his beautiful mate wanted he got.

Long Night by thicctor-nikiforov (trashbambi)

Viktor made his way back to his bed after a midnight trip to the bathroom, he was stopped in the hall outside his room by the sound of a faint moan floating through the closed door to Yuuri’s. His thin brows furrowed and he moved closer to the door, thinking Yuuri might be in pain from overworking himself during practice that day.

vanity plate by KatsukiYuurisTrophyHusband (spookyfoot)

Victor turns, frowns at the license plate, and murmurs,“maybe I went too subtle.”

But he rallies and looks at Yuuri, so smug that Yuuri wants to kiss it off his face, “and you said," Victor affects a voice that sounds like Yuuri’s second cousin who’s eaten too many chili peppers, “‘Vitya, you’ve never been subtle in your life.’”

Yuuri crosses his arms in front of his chest, unimpressed, “there’s subtle and then there’s incomprehensibly cryptic.”

Victor is undeterred, “Yurio will get it. He uses Instagram.”

“What the fuck does that say?” Yurio growls.

Victor pouts, "does no one appreciate genius anymore?"

“No one appreciates you, there’s a difference.” ______________

Or: No one understands Victor's new license plate.

with a love this deep by lazulisong for kevystel

There's two types of dates Victor and Yuri go on in St. Petersburg. Yuri likes them both.

you're like heaven to touch by lazulisong

"Is this because I let you watch American movies as a child," says Yakov flatly. "The ones where the popular boy gives his coat to the pretty girl?"

Victor puts up both eyebrows in a delicately mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was a fey creature of sixteen and makes Yakov yearn to clip him around the ears now, when he's twenty-eight. "'Let' me?" he says.

in any place you'll allow by lazulisong for dadvans

Yuri's in preheat and Victor is going crazy. More crazy.

made from love by alykapedia

"Then just stop trying to make a baby when you have sex!"

Yurio finally screams, a month after Yuuri's third heat off contraceptives and the pregnancy test comes out negative.

"Maybe the baby's having performance anxiety with all the pressure you idiots are putting on it! Just have sex like you normally do and maybe you can finally get knocked up!"

(Or: In which a certain percentage of baby acquisitions are not at all accidental.)

Of Drunken Viktors and Lost Umbrellas by annabeth for shadesofhades

Yuuri and a drunk Viktor walking under the same umbrella in the rain.

Toe the Line by forochel

Yuuri wears a dress, steps on Viktor, gets done just right.

The other, however, Yuuri has free — eyes still locked with Viktor’s, he shifts his weight, lifts his free foot. Lets the punched out gasp Viktor relinquishes go straight to the pooling heat in his groin and low in his spine, when he sets his foot delicately to the bulge stretching the fine silk of Viktor’s dress pants.

Cold by JoeyChanSan

Despite having been living in Hasetsu with Yuuri for several months already, it wasn't the first time the russian skater found himself staring outside the window of his bedroom comparing his native country’s weather to Japan's.

The Boy and the Knight by Yuripaws

Ser Viktor Nikiforov would never notice a lowly squire like Yuuri Katsuki.

Knight/Medieval AU

Alternately Titled: I Don't Know What I'm Doing But I Sure Do Enjoy Game Of Thrones

Quite The Exquisite Creature by wildenessat221b

Lord Feltsman's gatherings were always despairingly dull.

Well... Mostly.

What Friends Are For by Trickster_Angel

Yuuri and Phichit don't normally swear. But college life makes the word ‘fuck’ just so fucking relevant. Not to mention, it's hard to be a normal college student when you're a world class figure skater with an obvious crush that all your friends know about and make fun of you for. That just makes it twice as fucking fun. Seven times Yuuri and Phichit made each other swear plus two times they made others swear.

256 Allan Hall by Lukesnotpunk

“So how did Georgi meet this girl?” Yuuri found himself asking. Victor immediately groaned, and Yuuri felt bad for asking. “They literally met on move in day, and she lives on the first floor! They’re acting like they’re so in love that they have to spend every moment together, and it has to be in our room because her roommate is ‘evil’ but come on, man. Calm down,” Victor complained, wildly gesturing with his hands to show his annoyance. Yuuri laughed at the way that Victor was completely over exaggerating his movements, and Victor smiled at him. Yuuri had to push thoughts of how beautiful Victor was from his mind again, though it seemed at this point to be a losing battle.

Or, Phichit and Yuuri live down the hall from Victor and Georgi, and Georgi keeps kicking out Victor to "hang out" with his new girlfriend. And maybe Yuuri thinks Victor is pretty cute, but he isn't going to tell him or anything, no, that would make things weird. Right?

Beautiful by ipona

Yuuri Katsuki lives in the same apartment building as The Most Beautiful Man in the World, but somehow he only manages to run into him when he's a complete mess.

AU where they're not ice skaters, basically just a story of Yuuri and Viktor falling in love.

La Rambla Beneath the Moon by themaelstromwrites

"Viktor gapes in wonder at the sight of his fiancé moving without inhibition, not out of inebriated unrestraint but as though caught up in the passion of the art. Yuuri is creating music with his body in a way Viktor could never have imagined. He steps forward, past the line of onlookers, starstruck by the raw emotion of this performance as it spontaneously becomes. Yuuri glimpses him, and lights up with the most radiant smile Viktor has ever seen, and Yuuri pulls him into the center of the circle before drawing back and bidding that he chase --"

Or, what happens in Barcelona the night of the Grand Prix Final.

You Set My Heart on Fire by whelvenwings

Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone sees any marks on their soulmate's skin appear on their own body; it starts with the first marks, drawn on by the midwife at birth. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soulmate who replies, but Yuuri does, and he knows that he should feel fortunate - however, when he's trying to make a living as a small-time painter, and his soulmate is the famous artist, Viktor Nikiforov... well, it seems slightly less than fortunate. Yuuri can't help but feel self-conscious. So self-conscious, in fact, that he's never even shown Viktor his face, never let Viktor hear his voice. The only way that they've spoken is through ink, writing message after message to each other on their skin - but that's all about to change.

The Song Inside of Me by cutthroatpixie

After years of playing and composing, Viktor ends up halfway around the world in search of inspiration. Perhaps the missing piece he needs isn’t too far from where he ends up.

Maybe Baby. by IllyasJames

Yuuri always gets a few extra pounds in the off season and since he knows Victor don't really mind he's less conscious about it. Still there are days Victor sees Yuuri rub his hand over his stomach as if he's not happy with it. He just never thought the reason could be what it is.

This is not a A/B/O story, this is canon continued.

Phallus by rosesandmoredance for all_those_big_ass_trees

Based on a true story friends. Viktor is an extra millionaire and loves art. He loves to show off his art. And uh, Mayor Feltsman is not impressed.

of paperback novels and several loud screeching noises by katsusin

Yuuri Katsuki: lonely bookstore owner

Victor Nikiforov: lonely author.

Phichit Chulanont: everybody's favorite meddling best friend.

Setting Sun by LittleLostStar

Canon-divergent AU. Just before he skates at the Hot Springs On Ice, Yuuri receives a photo of his drunken GPF banquet antics; consumed with humiliation over a night he can’t remember, he loses the competition. Victor goes back to Russia with Yurio, and Yakov comes to train Yuuri in Japan. One night, frustrated and miserable, Yuuri posts some personally relevant song lyrics on Instagram—and wakes up the next morning to find that Victor has posted lyrics that seem to be a reply.

With the world watching their every move, Victor and Yuuri begin trading lyrics in a secret conversation; from playful rivalry to intense seduction, through Savage Garden and San Fermin, their virtual affair unfolds, hidden in plain sight. But the Grand Prix approaches, bringing with it newfound opportunities for Yuuri’s career, and his new life hinges on two things: winning the gold, and staying away from Victor.

i feel we're close enough (i wanna lock in your love) by JMonCheri

Viktor is having an existential crisis.

So what does he do? He makes three promises:

1.) To never let his superhero life get in the way of his personal one

2.) To try and get him and Yuuri together, even if Viktor's balls turn nonexistent whenever he tries to tell Yuuri that he likes him

3.) To never let his guard down around his rival superhero, Eros

Surprise surprise, Viktor breaks all three of them.

A Lifetime to Perfect by BrinThePuffling

Yuuri dreamed of meeting his soulmate for as long as he could remember. Imagined a grand romantic fairytale. Life, he learns, is rarely like dreams.

No Sound Sweeter Than Your Laughter by BrinThePuffling

Meeting your soulmate was supposed to be effortless. Soulmarks made it easier than ever to find the one (or ones) you were destined to be with. If only soulmarks could do anything to prevent misunderstandings.

The Two Mr. Nikiforovs by bratinella

Secrets are normal in Viktor’s opinion. Yuuri shares his sentiments. Everyone has secrets they keep from others and he knows even Yuuri has some just as Viktor has. He is very grateful to have trust and understanding between them and Viktor allows his husband to maintain his privacy just as Yuuri gives Viktor his own.

Which lies in the problem.

A Sudden Drop by preciousbunnynoiz

Even with couples who communicate well accidents can occur.

Basically Victor and Yuri fuck up and Yuri ends up dealing with subdrop

Mentions of smut but this is mostly exploring the side of BDSM that involves communicating with your partner away from sexual situations. Especially when things go wrong.

Beg For It by softpureboy

Yuuri has a sinful daddy kink and likes to torture Victor.

Soothing the Savage Beast by preciousbunnynoiz

Victor is in a foul mood and being an asshole to everyone. Yuuri isn't upset so much as concerned until he figures out why. So he take Victor home to burn off some tension.

be the hitch in your breath by alykapedia

The smart and responsible thing to do is to shake his head and say no. Send out a few messages to let people know that Viktor’s in his rut and they won’t be making it to practice any time soon, make sure they have supplies to last a week or so, and maybe ask Yurio to come over and get Makkachin.

But Yuuri does none of that because he's kind of an idiot when it comes to Viktor.

Apartment by c000kiesandcream

Suddenly, his eyes darted sideways, and they latched onto Yuuri’s. He smiled, softly, and raised his voice slightly to introduce himself.

And Yuuri could not muster the courage to say a single word.

Stimulating Conversation by threerings

Yuuri is determined to get to the bottom of why Victor keeps flirting with him. This leads to a conversation. With alcohol.

“Besides,” said Victor. “Maybe if I get you drunk I can learn some of your secrets.” Yuuri coughed as he swallowed. “My secrets?”

“Yes. The secrets of the mysterious Katsuki Yuuri, enigma of the figure skating world.” Yuuri nearly choked again at that.

He laughed and shook his head. “You don’t need to make fun of me.”

“What? You are an enigma.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not joking,” Victor assured. “No one really knows what to make of you, Yuuri. You’re so quiet most of the time and then other times...” Yuuri just looked at the other man as he trailed off. He shook his head and reached to pour them both more sake.

Seemingly Purrfect by IllyasJames

Some people snore, some people talk in their sleep, some people reenact fight scenes, and apparently some people can purr, when they are asleep. This leaves the one awake wondering if they should pet them or not. At least that is what Victor would love to do if not for the fact Yuuri is snuggled way tighter than is good for his mood, and he's scared he might wake him.

Michigan Weather (Isn't so Bad) by esutonia

“Good morning, I’m Victor Nikiforov, here with your daily forecast. It’s shaping up to be a chilly day of yet another volatile week, let’s take a look at our satellite radar. Hamburg at 14, Ann Arbor at 16, Essex at 10—”

His voice (oh God, even his voice sounds like an angel’s) worms its way into Yuuri’s head, and he wonders what his regular voice sounds like, what it’d sound like in the—

“You’re thirsty for the weatherman, aren’t you?” Phichit waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t suppose I deserve a thank you?”

Komorebi by cosmiceleste

They're in each others arms when Yuuri looks up at Viktor and smiles, nuzzling closer to his chest and asking himself how he became so lucky to be with him.

Viktor asks himself the same thing.

Baby Blue Prince by Daughter of Vayu (aquaregia)

When Viktor Nikiforov met Yuuri, he didn't know that cute guy with awful baby blue tie was actually a real life prince. The one with titles and such.

The Modern Royalty AU with Yuuri as Prince Cinnamon Roll.

All Eyes on Me by Kizuna_Auri

Yuuri, under the username of Eros, is a size queen omega who most certainly does not have an obsession with fellow camboy and legendary silver-haired alpha Aria. Just like Phichit is not the most meddlesome roommate known to man.

over and over by Ceta

Hours later - Victor belatedly remembered that there was such a thing as time zones when he woke up to his phone vibrating by his ear - Yuuri sent back Hello（〃・ω・〃）

Victor read the text, stared, then buried his face into one of the couch pillows for all of four seconds before he fumbled with his phone and texted back.

Or; Victor meets Yuuri in a bathroom. They hit it off from there.

not gold like in your dreams by ebenroot

“Victor, you could have let some psychopath into your apartment.”

“Oh come on, he’s not a psychopath,” Victor chides. Christophe makes a gesture with his hand that says ‘are you seriously this naïve or are you drunk at work again?’.

“Victor, you don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him. Whose name am I going to give to the police or face I’m going to describe to the sketch artist when they find your body chopped up like Hannibal Lecter’s side dish?”

in which Victor and Yuuri are roommates and Yuuri has a secret

Red by Maiden_of_the_Moon

Dressed in little more than black gossamer, Eros had poised himself inside of his dressing room’s doorframe with a tube of lipstick between his painted fingers, the makeup’s ruddy tip already conformed to his lower lip. It was like watching the Cheshire reappear, one swipe of his smile at a time. He purred, Do you think, Mister Nikiforov, that if I tried very hard, I could make you redder than Russian Red’s namesake?

Sleep Deprivation by domokunrainbowkinz

Yuuri is very sleep deprived and his filter disappears. The silver-haired stranger with a cute dog finds it endearing.

Offer Me That Deathless Death by marihy

Yuuri was just trying to be a gentleman by walking the red-haired woman home.

He hadn't meant to get whisked away by the top members of the Russian Mafia, he definitely hadn't meant to get two of the most powerful men in the world trying to kill him, and he definitely definitely hadn't meant to seduce the pakhan.

But now that he's in this mess, he's going to fight to the finish.

something so wholesome about you by crossroadswrite

It was supposed to be his year. He was supposed to-

Celestino stops talking and squeezes his shoulder. Yuuri looks up at him, opens his mouth to say something when someone says his name.

He freezes, holds his breath for a full second against the painfully familiar voice, not daring to hope. Then, very slowly, he turns towards the source, eyes going wide with disbelieve.

“Mari?”

(Or: in which Vicchan lives, Yuuri doesn't quite fail and doesn't quite get drunk, but manages to accidentally woo Victor Nikiforov anyway.)

For Future Reference by dia_dove

Anon asked:request: victor taking pictures/recording Yuri during their sexy time so that he can have them when he's away.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Add Sugar by shereadsthestars

What could possibly be worse than getting stuck with a roommate you weren't expecting?

Discovering that roommate is none other than Viktor f*cking Nikiforov.

To Boldly Go by xylophones

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!” Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser. “Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”

Or:

A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

(No prior Star Trek knowledge needed! It’s a loose AU!)

My Name On Your Lips by feelslikefire

Yuuri Katsuki has been betrothed to the High King's son, Victor, since he was just a child; furthermore, as an omega, he's forbidden from practicing magic in combat. For years, he's been able to put off the former because the Prince was traveling abroad, and gotten around the latter by practicing with his mentor in secret.

Now Victor Nikiforov has finally returned home, and Yuuri is being summoned to the capital for their wedding. He needs a plan to put off marriage long enough to find a way to break the betrothal, while keeping his practicing from being discovered.

If only the Prince didn't have other ideas.

The Return of the Little Piggy by JMonCheri

Everybody had their regrets in college.

For the students, it was making fun of Katsuki Yuuri.

For Yuuri, it was letting himself become too stupid.

For Viktor, it was not doing anything.

_-_

Once there was a boy named Katsuki Yuuri, who was shy, loved to make clothes, had adorable smiles and was fatter than the usual average human being. Unfortunately for him, apparently being chubby wasn't all that accepted in the norm back then. After numerous accounts of bullying, Katsuki Yuuri disappears for good.

Now years later, there is now a man only known as Y.K. Fashion tyrant, multimillionaire, professional cold-stare giver... and is trying his ultimate best to run away from his dark past, until a certain silver haired CEO of a certain rival company who went to the same certain college he went to back then decides to flat out entangle their fates together. Do both of them have anything to say for it? Sadly, no. No they don't.

will you go to prom with me? by thishasbeencary

Viktor's promposal for Yuuri had to be perfect. He knew Yuuri, though, and he knew that it couldn't be extravagantly over the top, but it also couldn't be a stereotype he pulled off of Google. It was harder than he expected it to be. Also known as: Five ways Viktor considered promposing to Yuuri and one way he didn't.

Private Show by moimiles

Chris had dragged Victor to an insane amount of strip clubs over the years, but that didn't mean Victor expected to fall in love with a stripper.

Leather and Lazy Mornings by kiaronna

“Hey,” says Yuri Plisetsky, “you do realize that guy you’re throwing your tack box at doesn’t work here, right?”

“What do you mean?” Viktor questions. “He always grooms Makkachin for me, if Yakov demands I do something else and I don’t have time.”

“Your horses are smarter than both of you put together.”

Where Viktor is the reigning champion of English showmanship, but mostly just has a crush on the cute guy he always sees around the stables.

Baby, I’m Preying on You Tonight by cuttlemefish

Yuuri and Phichit registered and named the pet shop when they were drunk. They didn’t exactly expect it to become the most popular pet shop in Seattle. (It was only supposed to be a front to fund Phichit’s (undercover) animal rescue missions.) Enter Viktor Nikiforov, the man with the pink Cadillac and the giant brown poodle (that's stolen Yuuri's heart), and Yuuri might have lost his mind, because apparently he keeps flirting with a client – and he never even notices.

across our skin by thishasbeencary

When you're born, you have the first words your soulmate says to you on your arm. When they say them to you, they turn red and you get another set of words that change your relationship with your soulmate. Viktor's first set is in Japanese and he doesn't understand, but the second is "Be my coach, Viktor".

He has the second set for 10 years before he finally hears them.

anarchy for sale! t-shirts only ten dollars by KatsukiYuurisTrophyHusband (spookyfoot)

Because the universe is somehow both cruel and indifferent, Yuuri sees Victor again two days later in the lobby of his ballet studio. He’s just finished his advanced pointe workshop. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, he's painted with a full body flush, and he's wearing a shirt Phichit custom ordered that says “Tastier Than Katsudon” in screaming neon orange.

“Hi Yuuri!” Victor’s beaming and blocking his only exit. ____________

A falling-in-love story told through questionable t-shirts.

Reasons Yuuri Katsuki Doesn't Get Paid Enough by SkeletonKey

1. Having to yell at kids for skating like idiots 2. Explaining to parents of said kids why they were kicked off the ice 3. The horrifying smell of Phichit's feet 4. Victor Nikiforov almost decapitating a 12 year old

In which Yuuri works as an Ice Guard with Phichit, and Victor is the stupidly attractive figure skater who tries to practice flying camels in the middle of crowded public sessions.

Welcome to Detroit Dental and Orthodontics by stanzas

Victor stops the car, turns off the engine, and Yuri rolls out the car with the attitude of every slightly inconvenienced teenager. Yuri flips his shades up, stares in disbelief at the sign in front of the well-manicured lawn squished between two old barber shops: DETROIT DENTAL AND ORTHODONTICS.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he says.

Or: Victor has a crush on his favorite shy, attractive dentist, and Yuri suffers.

Hurricane by yintsunami

"Yuuri was a hurricane: beautiful and destructive. He swept Viktor (and arguably half the skating world) off their feet and destroyed the ball room in the process. Reuniting with Yuuri had been… confusing. He was that anxious person once again. He was still beautiful, but less like a hurricane. He was timid comparatively.

Submissive.

Viktor had been very very wrong in that regard."

The Game Has Only Just Begun by Seito

"Yuuri~! I'm home!"

Silence.

Victor blinked, before his blood grew cold. The box of chocolates fell out of his hands. He reached for phone, hitting speed dial.

There pinned to the wall was piece of Yuuri's favorite jacket held in place by a knife. The gleam of moonlight reflected off the golden ring, Yuuri's engagement ring tied to the end of the fabric. Cut into the wall, letters jagged and crooked, a note: 'We have your fiancée, Agent King.'

-.-.-

Or the Spy!AU no one asked for

Blue Roses and Golden Apples by RedxLipstick

After a whirlwind night Victor is sure he's found his mate in one Yuuri Katsuki. But Yuuri doesn't remember any of this? Worse still-how can Victor control his every alpha instinct screaming at him to claim his omega?

This story covers Victor and Yuuri meeting at the GPF banquet through the canon timeline, and beyond!

Cup of Tea by IllyasJames

The photographer sets the Danseur up for a blind date with one of his models.

Yuuri loves Phichit, really he does. It's just that he rather just not be personal around people. So dates are just not his cup of things. Crushes, now those he can do. He kinda has had several. And if all of them in one way or another resemble his first one, just means he has a type.

Proper Checkups and Physicals by PrussianVenom

Viktor makes good on his promise to "treat" Yuuri to a personal "nurse"

Stay by pensversusswords

Of all the ways the night could have ended, Yuuri would have never guessed that he would be in Prince Viktor's bed with his royal highness asleep in his arms.

Whatever You Want by TreacherousGnome

Viktor had kissed him for all the world to see, but Yuuri can't even work up the nerve to talk about it afterwards. He can't put into words how badly he wants more; he can barely admit it to himself. It's a good thing Viktor knows *just* how to build up his confidence.

Third time's a charm by halesiias

When Victor falls in love, he falls faster than poor Alice down her rabbit hole, and this time without a miracle cake to solve all his issues.

What is, and what could be by kaizuka

A look into first meetings and second chances. Nothing will ever happen if you don't at least try, starting off with a simple "hi".

Espresso by withoutwingsx

Prompt- You kicked two guys out for being rude but turns out they were a couple and now everyone including your crush thinks you're homophobic but you're actually 100% homosexual aka Yuuri was not dealing with this shit today.

look into your eyes [and the sky's the limit] by aeriamamaduck

Yuuri found himself ignoring the television, hyper-aware of his hand finding its way to the top of Victor’s thigh. He gave a slight press into the hard muscle, slowly making his way to Victor’s knee in a light stroke.

A long-fingered hand gracefully covered his, smooth and playful as they interlocked. “Oh right! It’s our day off tomorrow, isn’t it?”

He said it like it was a huge surprise. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it,” Yuuri muttered, face reddening deeper even as his gut grew warm with anticipation, and his cheek still pressed against Victor’s shoulder.

an ever-fixed mark by TrumpetGeek

Yuuri is absolutely gorgeous. Viktor could write poems about the soft pink that paints his cheeks and nose. He could pen lyrics about the slope of Yuuri’s smile and the way he bites his lip to try to keep the laughter inside. The sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes would be enough to give hope to even the most lovelorn soul. The warmth of Yuuri’s body pressed against his and the bubbling heat of the feelings he induces in Viktor would be more than enough protection from even the harshest of Russian winters.

Yuuri laughs again and ducks his head, embarrassed, and Viktor covers his mouth with his hand because he thinks he may have said some of that out loud. Oops.

Wishin' and Hopin' by darlingholocene

"I know as well as you do that you’re a big romantic at heart, or you wouldn’t be the most requested wedding planner in New York City. Maybe it’s time you give the City a chance”.

Or, the one where Victor organizes weddings for a living but has never been in love, Katsuki Yuuri is a very stressed best man of honor, Chris wants Victor to pull a Jennifer Lopez and Yurio would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.

Unconventional by so_shhy

After freezing up in front of his idol at a comic con panel, Yuuri decides that he needs an awful lot of alcohol to get over the embarrassment. It is a decision he will regret.

The fandom AU I can’t believe I wrote, featuring movie star!Victor Nikiforov and fanfic author!Yuuri Katsuki.

Sonnet 116 by violetlolitapop

“Canst thou, o cruel! Say I love thee not,” Victor says with a deep, resigned sigh. “Do I not think on thee, when I forgot am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?”

“You are one of the biggest pushovers for this boy I have ever seen,” Mila comments from her seat next to him without even looking up from her clipboard.

Or:

In which the principal actor of the Shakespearean Cabaret theater troupe is ridiculously head-over-heels in love with their oblivious new cast member and everyone schemes to make his life hell.

Once You Go Greek by Defiant-Dreams (baterina_1234)

1) Go for what you want.

2) Make use of what you have.

3) Everyone in Alpha Kappa Omega is an asshole.

And then he meets Yuuri Katsuki. The more he gets to know Yuuri, the more Viktor finds that he's no longer sure what he wants anymore and that might make him lose the best thing he's ever had.

Or:

A fraternity fic wherein Yuuri and Viktor are in rival frats, but they fall in love anyway.

Past Present and Future by Inu_Sensei

Viktor picked up the twins and looked at the woman, “You look beautiful as ever” he said without thinking.

“T-thank you” she looked down… uhm… can I get my kids back?”

“You share the kids you know” Yakov panting behind her, “Stubbornness from their father and your stamina, not a good mix” said Yakov.

Turmoil. by IllyasJames

From all the things this was the last thing either Yuuri or Victor ever thought they'd argue about. They just can't seem to get to a good middle ground on it unsettling all the other Russian skaters with their bickering.

But honestly, until the Russians find out what it was about they have some opinions of their own.

Confessions Behind these Bruises by Gayson

The leader of the Russian Mafia could be described in many ways. Of course to the public's eye, Viktor Nikiforov was nothing short of perfection. Tall, rich, powerful, charming, and unbelievably handsome. He knew this fact very well, using this to his advantage at getting anybody he wanted whenever he wanted.

That is until Yuuri Katsuki caused him to fall flat on his butt and make him rethink everything he's ever known.

Introducing the mafia AU nobody asked for about how a cocky self reliant bachelor falls incredibly in love with the adorable sassy dancing protégée of Lilia- Yuuri Katsuki.

Out of the Sea by SophiaFrederica

“Someone needs to make sure that you don’t go lusting after him too hard and accidentally enchant him with your beautiful voice and get him drowned. The royal family of Russia has no heir at the moment, so it would definitely drive the country into a chaos, and then it would be no use trying to make an alliance with them.”

“Phichit!”

aka The Little Mermaid AU no one asked for. This one is based on the Disney version, because anyone who has read the original fairy tale knows it doesn't end happily.

Just Hold On (We're Going Home) by kiaronna

Where Yuuri remembers the banquet, Viktor forgets, and Yakov Feltsman has his own plans. “I’ve been made aware of your recent break with Celestino Cialdini, and would like to offer you a trial period where you train under me, in St. Petersburg. There are only three conditions: you will board with another one of my students, you will take ballet with Madame Baranovskaya, and you will help me coach Yuri Plisetsky, who refuses to listen to my criticisms of his spins.” Yakov nods at this point, leans forwards and looks Yuuri in the eye. “I will charge no coaching fees.” With a deal like that, even if it means he has to face Viktor again, Yuuri has no choice but to agree.

#Katsudamn by lucycamui

Victor surprises Yuuri with a trip to an adult store and gets a little more than he bargained for. Or maybe that was the plan all along.

“The colors match our Stammi Vicino costumes!” Victor’s eyes positively sparkled. Meanwhile, his hands held two packaged, decently-sized, ribbed, purple and blue vibrators. With gold rings around the hilts, presumably where they would untwist to replace the batteries.

“You knew this wasn’t a toy store,” Yuuri accused flatly.

“Well, technically, it is a toy store.”

The Rules For Lovers by ADreamingSongbird

Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…

That’s a long story.

How Long Does It Take To Fall In Love? by orangelapin

Yuri Katsuki never wanted to meet his idol. He couldn't imagine Prince Victor ever caring about a lowly college student. Yuri's also pretty sure he'd screw up everything if he ever met Prince Victor and he'd like to save himself the embarrassment. Unfortunately for Yuri, he's going to lose his dignity and his shirt in very short order after meeting the prince.

Aftermath by IllyasJames

Getting drunk at an after-party at work did not look like a bad thing at first. Yuuri had hoped it would have gotten him to talk to some of his co-workers as normally he's too shy. He should have known that getting drunk at an after-party would get him into trouble. There was no way he could have seen this train wreck coming though.

See You Next by rougeandtonic

Yuuri realizes that he'll sabotage Victor's career if he asks him to coach and compete at the same time. This leads to a standoff of ultimatums over who will skate and who won't.

A standoff that ends with Victor in St Petersburg and Yuuri half a world away.

Or,

In which Yuuri needs to learn to listen and Victor needs to learn to speak.

A Fateful Encounter by BuryTheCastle

Yuuri wasn't that short. If anything, he was an average height. No, it was the grocery store's fault. With the store so understaffed and the shelves so poorly stocked, how can anyone reach anything? At least, Yuuri can say something good came out of his ordeal. After all, he had quite a fateful encounter.

to keep you warm by karasunotsubasa

How do you love someone who you can't touch? Simple – with a force of burning fire, enough to melt your heart.

- or the fic where Victor is the Witch of the North and Yuuri is the principal apprentice of the Rising Sun and they can't be around each other without someone getting hurt (it's Victor, it's always Victor)

So this is it for now, I guess? I still have a whole bunch more and I’ll update this I promise! I hope you enjoy this and have a nice day! x

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