Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dark— it knew what the dark was.

Not all dark, some light pierced through the rubble— how did it know what rubble was?

The big blocks— rubble —were crushing it, making it hard to breathe.

Its shell was hurting, its head was hurting too; it smelt like blood.

It wheezed, it was getting hard to breath

It continued to try to wiggle itself out, but its arm was stuck, too.

It was going to die— did it know what death was? Was it nicer than what was happening to it now? —it was scared.

It chirps weakly, straining to hear if anything would listen to it.

Whimpering, it continues to chirp and wonder: where was its bale? Were they safe?  

It wanted its bale back! It missed its bale…

It cries softly. 

|~~~*~~~| |~~~*~~~| |~~~*~~~| |~~~*~~~|

She gasps awake, eyes flying open and fluttering. Slowly she sits up and puts a hand to her face, taking deep breaths: remember the pattern; 5 in, hold for 5, out for 5, repeat. When finally tamed, she huffs with a pout—this was the sixth time this week that she’s woken up in a sweat without knowing why! Her post-nightmare aroma was polluting the entire room, how annoying! This was definitely not the way she wanted to start the day. She rubs her eyes and yawns, opening her mouth to its full capacity and closing it with a snap. She turns her head to the side, reaching for Madame Hugginstine–her favorite teddy bear–and hugs it to her chest. Thankfully, it was durable enough to withstand her bone-crushing hugs and was big enough to hold properly without folding into herself. Taking a good sniff of the bear, Roseline puts it down and reorganizes the other stuffed animals into their usual positions. She takes another whiff of the air–it still smelled of fear . Pulling down the sleeves of her nightgown, she shivers and sits at the edge of her bed—she didn’t even know why she was scared, for Titan’s sake! 

 No matter, although her morning might not have started to her liking, she will make sure that the rest of the day turns out in her favor—it will be no match for the great Battle Nexus Champion Roseline! This was just a funk, she would fight all the days she needed in order for them to obey her—she would forever be victorious!! Nothing would dampen her shining, glorious, fantabulostic self!!!

With her mood now uplifted and her ego boosted, she drifted to her personalized potty room to prepare for the coming day—it would be very busy after all, the hotel was packed and she had a fight in the evening. Tail now wagging softly, she performs her daily ritual: shower with the most luxurious of products, iron then dons her mask, reapply eyeliner onto the said mask, apply concealer onto her facial scars, put on her glasses, get dressed in only the most comfortable of clothes, get her heels, apply perfume, and finally one last look in the mirror while affixing lip gloss. 

She then walked to her bed, looked under it, and reached for an old wood box. She shifts her eyes around the room to make sure no one was watching, then recites a spell that decloaks the box, revealing it to be dark blue with a big yellow eye.  She holds her eyes to the box having them verified, then it opens to reveal a red ruby broach with a magenta bow attached. She gingerly took the broach out of its case, closed it, and put it back under the bed. Attaching the broach to the right side of her short magenta shawl, she lets out a breath—the most important part of her ritual completed.

With a final practice smile in the mirror and beautiful snaggletooth on display, she leaves her room ready to impress all those that set their eyes on her—carpe diem!

…

Now, Roseline does not struggle, she overcomes! She takes what she wants and makes others kneel before her, making them grateful that they could be in her presence to begin with! However, the morning’s funk still persisted, and it was becoming ever the more difficult to please the guests of the hotel. See, during the early hours of the day into the afternoon, Roseline works at her mother’s hotel— a true paradise for all yokai! —and she works at the many factions of the hotel. One day, she may be tending to the bar and getting moving drunks back to their quarters, then doing rounds of room service the next day.

Unfortunately for her, she was stuck at the front desk today: hence her dilemma. Although she was a humongous crowd-pleaser, she wasn’t a people person at all. Anyone she talked to that wasn’t her beloved Mother boosted her anxiety to a 10 gave her goosebumps and she ended up getting easily frustrated. It didn’t help that there was an especially insufferable sheep yokai in front of her now; she was complaining about how her sheets weren’t the same shade of white as they were before, so now she wants a refund and a free room the next time she visits. From the style of her clothing, she was from the upper echelons of the Hidden City, which meant she had a snappier and more pompous attitude compared to others. Roseline’s eye twitches ever so slightly and her right eye throbs—she was really nothing but patient towards the guest! Although that patience was running out by the second, which was troubling. She hadn’t snapped at a guest in a very long time, outbursts were above her—she wasn’t an infant!

Not only was the funk a dampen on her mood, but she hasn’t even had the chance to speak to Mother yet, as she was most likely very busy. Roseline hoped that it wouldn’t be too long until they met: she hated being away from Mother for longer than a few hours, it brought back memories of—

“Ahem! Excuse me—are you ignoring me?! Is that any way to treat a loyal patron?! I should ask for your manager for that behavior!!”

Her tail twitches.

“Honestly, I should give this hotel a one-star review—not only do you not wash your laundry correctly, but you also ignore your guests when they are talking to you! I mean really, how were you hired??”

Her teeth grind together.

Calm yourself, Roseline; if you tarnish your reputation, you tarnish Mother’s reputation.

“How old are you anyway—you aren’t an adult, are you? Yes, only a child would have the same amount of disrespect you have! I swear if I were you I would apologize until my tongue twisted into knots!”

Her fists ball up and she restrains from breaking the pen currently in her hand into two. She puts on her best apologetic face and responds: 

“Oh, my apologies! You are very right—I’m being an absolutely terrible employee!” 

She conjures up some fake tears in order to really sell the look. In order to flip the situation to go in her favor and back in her control, she’ll have to really act the part—oh how she loved acting! Putting a hand to her cheek she continues:

“My mind has been all over the place lately, my father recently passed away and this was the only job willing to accept me despite my age! If I get fired, I won’t be able to support myself and my 4 siblings—oh please don’t report my behavior to my manager, I beg of you!”

Roseline grabs the guest’s hooves within her hands she hates holding the extremities of strangers beneath her and holds them to her chest, making a single tear slide down her face. The patron’s face changes immediately from anger to pity and she lets out a sympathetic noise, her beady black eyes also shining with tears.

“Oh you poor thing, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that you were in such an unfortunate situation—I won’t report your behavior if it gets you fired, I’m not a monster!”

Bingo. 

The sheep yokai then digs into her purse, pulling out 100 dollars in Hidden City currency. She hands it to Roseline, saying that she hopes it will keep her family afloat for a little while, then proceeds to walk away. Roseline pockets the money then her body unravels with a sigh, putting her weight on the wall behind her. What a situation! Dragging a hand down her face and proceeding to rub her bad eye, she takes a deep breath in, letting it out–just because she was in a funk didn’t mean that was an excuse to not do her job, after all! She then puts on a smile, watching as the next guest approaches. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her posture, she prepares to deal with the next protest the yokai has.

…

“19 complaints in one morning?! What in Titan’s name is going on today?” 

Roseline questions this while walking away from the front desk, clocking out on a computer in the backroom. The rest of the employees must have been slacking off–she had gotten 5 complaints alone from guests finding remnants of torn paper in their rooms! Oh, if she were the head of the Housekeeping Department, she would make sure that complaints like this would never have to be brought up because the guest quarters would be as clean as a newborn infant. She huffs happily; maybe Mother would deem her responsible enough to have a concrete position in the hotel! She would make a great manager, and handling all of her underlings would be so much fun! She continues to daydream as she wanders the halls, looking for the aforementioned Mother; she hadn’t made an appearance all day and it was already nearing noon! Roseline starts to sweat– Mother usually at least said good morning to her when she woke up, where was she?! 

She shakes her head and slaps her cheeks; no, no, no Roseline! There is no use in panicking, just go to her most frequented areas–you’ll be bound to find her eventually . With a solid plan, she treads through the hotel, having bellhops bow and mutter a greeting as she passes. She rolls her eyes each time they do, such weak spirits! No matter, she had bigger concerns than dealing with some sheepish bellhops. Some other employees stumble by as she walks: maids, cooks, room service—just were they preparing for? Pulling out her pocket watch, she looks at the time–1:00?! She panics, it’s been an hour, yet she still hasn’t found her Mother–how could that be? Now she was really starting to panic—this wasn’t part of their routine at all! They would at least have lunch together; she starts biting at her nails—pity, and she had just gotten a manicure, too…

Her stomach started to growl, letting Roseline know that it was time for lunch. She sighs wearily, walking to the elevator to go to floor Taurus, where the dining area for the staff was. Arriving at the floor, she walks to the end of the hallway, retrieving a keycard from her pocket and scanning it on the eye left of the double doors in front of her. It glows green and makes a beeping sound, opening the doors for her. She says thank you—it was better to be on their good side—and walks inside fit he snout to be pleasantly assaulted with an assortment of smells. Speed walking forward, she grabs a plate from the table on the very left and proceeds to pick out food from the buffet.

Roseline then sits herself down at a table, eating with haste so that she may continue the search for her Mother. Secretly licking the plate clean, she approaches the right side of the room to give her plate to the cleaners. There was a rectangular opening about the size of a small window where she could see into the kitchen, which was empty. Putting her plate on the top of the stack next to her, she sticks her head in, swiveling it back and forth: where were the cooks? They should have been busying around, running into each other, and wiping their sweat on their aprons! She leans back and frowns worriedly, looking behind her to realize the entire room was empty and silent.

Where were the other staff? Wasn’t it lunchtime? She looked at her watch: 1:20, that meant it was lunchtime—why was it so empty? Why was she alone?! 

No, stop! She couldn’t afford to go down that road, she needed to focus on the main goal: find Mother and say hello. She harshly presses her palms into her eyes, the pinprick of pain distracting her for just a moment. Flapping her hands, Roseline hypes herself up with some positive affirmations and exits the dining area. Getting back on the elevator, she goes to the floor she was on before she took her lunch break, treading through the hallways. 

Just then a flash of brown catches her eye and she walks to the end of the hallway to see—

“Gus!”

She cries out, having the hound’s head swivel to meet her gaze, tilting in a quizzical manner. His eyes light up in recondition and he runs up to her.

“Yo, Roseline! Haven’t seen you in a while, how've ya been?”

His tail wags as she scratches behind his ear, making him stomp his leg in delight. Roseline herself lets out a sigh of relief; Gus never strayed far from Mother, and even if she was far away Gus would still be able to smell her. She lets herself put on a genuine frown as she explains her current predicament. Gus nods along and pats her head— damn him for being one of the only few yokai who is actually taller than her —pointing his thumb behind him.

“She’s in her room right now, ‘doesn’t want to be disturbed pretty sure. She was working on something big, ‘had a lot of yokai around her—she didn’t tell me why when I asked, though—and that was earlier.”

Hmm, that was odd, usually when Mother was preparing a big event she would consult Roseline—that explains why there were so many yokai fumbling around and no cooks in the dining area. She frowns and thanks Gus, throwing a ball she found on the floor with her tail and watching him run after it. Roseline touches the ruby on her neck attached to a red bow, a gift from Mother; no, she would find Mother on her own, she didn’t need to use it right now. She sighs again and looks at the time 

2:06

She takes another deep breath and treads forward; as much as she wants to hold her tail for comfort, she was in Mother’s hotel out in the open, exposed to the public eye— she couldn’t afford to show weakness, lest someone see and—

Gah! No, no, no! She contains the urge to headbutt the wall with as much force as she can and instead growls lowly with her eyes tightly closed. She is fed up with these intrusive thoughts—they’ve been nothing but nuisances all day, distracting her and making her doubt her capabilities! She roughly shakes her head again and urges her legs to walk faster as if she could escape the thoughts to get to Mother’s chambers hastily. She rubbed her eye again, it flaring up; Roseline just needed to see her Mother, hear her Mother, she just needed to know she was alive, know that she wasn’t alone —

She chokes down a sob whimper—the mighty and splendorific Roseline didn’t sob, cry, or show any weakness, she was strong …she was strong …she…

Her eyes widened in remembrance: she had a Battle Nexus fight today!! How could she possibly ever forget such an important event?! Oh Titan, she needed to get ready! She looks at her pocket watch to check the time: 3:00?! How had so much time passed? Was Mother’s quarters really so far away? Her head swivels back and forth, trying to come up with a decision: should she continue to search for her Mother, or should she get ready for her fight? Her tail smacks the floor in anxiety—she just wasn’t sure what to do!

She shuts her eyes tightly, holding herself and going through her breathing ritual: 5 in, hold for 5, out for 5, repeat. She squeezes her arms, trying to imagine they were Mother’s arms instead, embracing her with love and protectiveness, full of warmth that always managed to bring her peace. The warmth envelops her and she slowly calms down.

Taking a final deep breath, Roseline slowly opens her eyes to see a blurry world. Panicking, she looks around to see if there are any yokai around and hastily wipes her face. Sucking her teeth, she decides to go prepare for her impending battle: concluding that Mother would be watching the fight, then Roseline would just see her after. She nods at her plan and treads to her room with purpose. 

…

She had 2 hours to get ready.

2. Hours.

How was she going to get ready in 120 minutes?! That’s not enough time! She has to rush through her routine, only getting 20 minutes of bathing instead of her usual 60–Blasphemous! Now she only had 100 minutes to choose a sufficient outfit! She was panicking—should she do lace with black boots, silk with slip-on heels, her iconic pump heels with velvet?! Why did she have so many options yet so little time?! If she had hair it would’ve all been pulled out from stress; she was running out of time! She ripped out clothing options from their hangers, making an absolute mess of her room. Finally, she decides to wear her Marie Antoinette-inspired dress: it was white and blue with frills. She finished with white pump heels instead of her usual black and put on her white gloves. She adjusts her makeup within her potty room to fit the theme: white lipstick with white eyeshadow.

She then stares at her reflection, putting her black eyeliner down. She traces her invisible tear tracks—she had made sure that her face didn’t retain any evidence of her mini breakdown—and lets herself feel. She was nervous, her aroma highlighting this, but still excited. She really adored fighting, it let her get out emotions she couldn’t afford to express to her guests. It helped her comprehend what she was feeling and why: it was extremely therapeutic. Hopefully, it would help her get out of today’s funk and prevent it from flaring up during the week similar to how her eye wouldn’t stop hurting . She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath, putting her hands on the countertop. 

“You can do this Roseline; you're the greatest Battle Nexus Champion the Hidden City has ever seen—you are splendorific and fantabulostic. No one can even begin to compare.”

She looks into the mirror with a manic grin, finally shedding the anxiety from earlier and letting herself bloom into the rose that she was. 

“They love me, they adore me, they need me; I’m the entertainer and this is my show, my performance!! THEY WILL WATCH AND PRAISE MY NAME JUST LIKE THEY ALWAYS HAVE!!”

The countertop cracks under her grip, blooding her hands, but she doesn’t notice: the cheering blocked all other noises, all other sensations, all other emotions .

She laughs

…

She could hear them, the tunnel conducting the noise well; they were cheering her name, they always looked forward to her battles, they adored her . She knew the spectators couldn’t care less about her competitor—she would beat them in the end, no matter their size or skill.

She cracks her neck and hands, doing some last-minute stretches, all while looking forward toward the opening: the light . In the hotel, in her room she was unseen; she was hidden from the outside world, her Mother shielding her from anything that dared harm her. She was sheltered and protected: she was grateful for that, don’t get her wrong! 

But here? In the Battle Nexus? She was free and felt alive . She could develop as many injuries as she wanted, smash any skulls that pulled too hard on her tail, lock her jaw on any arm that even attempted to take off her mask: she could do this without consequence! Any injury she gained could be healed! If a competitor died then it means they were too weak to be in the Battle Nexus anyway! There were no rules except kill or be killed, and she thrived in it.

She smiles, her snaggletooth catching the light. She was ready to conquer, to kill .

She rubs her arms, scars not covered by clothing now on display—she was strong …she had to be in order to live until now.

She heard the announcer: it was her time.

“And going against Troll is our beloved and acclaimed Battle Nexus Champion! You know her by many names: Voracious Vermilion, Pristine Phantom, Terrific Terrapine—“

She walks forward 

“But let’s give her a welcome befitting her name!! Presenting: CRIMSON ROOOOOSSEEE!!!”

She walks into the light and they CHEER.

Chapter Text

It heard a noise, it heard a sound— was it multiple sounds?

It repeated and got closer and closer to where it was; it didn’t want the thing to come closer, it couldn’t defend itself! It would snap at the thing if it got close, but it couldn’t do anything else.

It tried to wiggle out from under the rubble, making a strained chirp.

Its chirp made the noise stop—

It made the noise stop!

It keeps on chirping, louder and louder.

But…the noise got closer and louder— it heard the sound before, it remembered the sound.

It knew the name of the sound: footsteps .

The sound of footsteps got closer until the thing was in front of it.

It strains its neck to see if the thing was a predator and readies its jaw—

It looks up to see Creator

(*^*~)•(*^*~)•(*^*)•(~*^*)•(~*^*)

Big Mama was a monster, she knew that. She wouldn’t deny the statement if it were told to her  face; she would even kill the person that called her a monster just to cement the point!

However, even she had limits to the amount of suffering she could enact and could stand to watch someone else commit.

For one, you do not beat a child until they are bruised and bloodied: that was a big no-no in Big Mama’s book! So you can imagine her surprise when a trembling terrapin toddler appeared at her dimbily-door on a Friday evening, the same night her latest Battle Nexus Champion was slain!

The child was no older than 5, with a bloody tonfa in hand: it trembled in place, yet its face exposed no emotion, no fear or apprehension.

Instead, it tilted its head to the side as it stared up at Big Mama, seemingly in wonder. Its skin was covered with scars and bruises, Big Mama noticed an especially nasty scar going through its right eye.

She looked around, attempting to scout its parent and send them to her Battle Nexus for allowing the tiny turtle to be beaten in such a way, but there was no yokai in sight.

She crouched down—in her natural form at the time—to take a better look at the youth. Not only was its tonfa bloody, but its entire body was covered with the substance, making it smell of iron and smoke. It continues to look at her in detached wonder, stepping closer.

It looked like the poor thing was struggling with that as well—it fell onto the concrete a second after.

She coos and moves to pick it up, only to see it express its first clear emotion: fear .

Big Mama was no stranger to fear; in fact, if she had a dollar for every time she made a child cry with her appearance, she would be more wealthy than she is now!

But this was different: this was pure uncensored fear, accented with the pungent aroma coming from the child. It growls at her with its teeth bared—how adorable! 

But she didn’t want to stress the small yokai more than it appeared to be, so she slowly backed away. It stops growling at her and looks at her with weariness fit for an adult—just what did the toddler go through to earn those stress lines?

They both stood in their places, seemingly in a stare-off. The terrapin’s eyes roamed her figure, seemingly searching for something.

Now, as cute as this silly situation was, she was getting bored and was wasting her time—she had duties to attend to after all. She slowly got up and turned to walk away—

—and it SCREECHED .

She had to cover the spots her ears would be because it screeched like a bumbling banshee! She then feels a strong hold on her back right leg; looking down to see the toddler attached to her in a vice grip.

It chirped lamely and looked at her with wide eyes, wet but not shedding a tear—that was peculiar.

She looked around to see if there were any yokai that came to investigate, but the street was still empty—even more peculiar.

She looks down at the child again, putting her arms down and giggling.

“Do you happen to know what happened to the nearby yokai? Did you have something to do with their didily-disappearances?”

The child looked at her for a few seconds then slowly nodded its head in a yes motion; oh goodie, it could understand her!

She slowly and cautiously reaches down and detaches the child from her leg, now holding it in front of her. She inquires another question:

“Did you kill them?”

Now, now: Big Mama knew that this might have been an odd question, but this whole situation was odd! After all, the child did have blood on itself and seemed to hold some sort of training or experience fighting, seeing as it had a tonfa.

Upon asking the question, the child’s eyes widened, its face going expressionless and darkening:

It nodded yes.

Oh ho ho ! Now she was intrigued: a child that was trained to kill? Oh, this was definitely worth looking into!!

Big Mama cradled the child in one of her main arms, bringing it closer to her chest. With one of her dwarf arms, she pats the child on its head.

Although flinching at first, it heavily leans into her touch: it even starts purring like a feline!

Yes, she was definitely keeping the child; however, she was missing a name.

“Well tootsie-terrapin, do you have a name, perchance?”

It lifts up its arm and puts a finger up:

“Hmm…One?”

It nods its head.

Now, what kind of name was ‘One’? Oh no, no, no; Big Mama had to change this at once! Looking around for an idea, she spots a rose within a dumpster a few feet away, one of its petals on the ground. 

She looks at the child and smiles: 

“Hmmmm…how aboouuuttt…Rose, for now? Do you like that name: Rose? Rosie-poo?”

It tilts its head to the side with a questioning look. Its gaze goes down as it thinks for a moment, then it nods yes. 

How delightful! A Spiderling of her own! Even though she didn’t think her name would be literal anytime soon, she wasn’t upset from this turn of events by any means.

She hugs the child close in a protective hold and walks into the back entrance of her hotel as Rose gripped her arm. 

~

That was exactly 10 years ago: today was the anniversary of Big Mama meeting her beloved daughter Roseline, automatically making the day her birthday!

Because it was her beloved daughter’s birthday, she had much preparation to do: she had to prepare food, get the main entertainment room decorated, invite her most trusted associates, and tighten security to ensure that no unwanted guests interrupted them. 

She learned from the first time, and she would ensure that it never happened again.

By keeping the celebration in the hotel, she was able to keep the right ambiance while also retaining the same amount of security, keeping Roseline safe .

Currently in her human form, she was instructing all the bellhops, clerks, and room service employees to move out of the Western Wing: confirming that the main entertainment room and the surrounding area were void of any wanderers.

She also instructed that the nearby rooms be evacuated, terminating the guest reservations.

Sure they would be bursting blood vessels since they were kicked out of her hotel for seemingly no reason, but they would come back eventually!

Guests were expendable after all—her daughter and her happiness were not.

Busying around like a bumblebee, Big Mama hurries from floor to floor, trying to perfect everything and to check maintenance: the lights in the northeast wing needed to be corrected and replaced, the rug on floor Libra needed to be vacuumed, the widows of the 4th corridor on floor Aquarius needed to be thoroughly wiped—there was much to do! And just what did she hear about remains of paper in guest chambers—she should have never had to hear that in the first place! All rooms were required to be in tip-top shape!

It’s only when she’s in her own chambers does she get to sit and relax, lying on her bed and letting out a heavy sigh. She deactivates her cloaking broach, letting her main arms stretch and yawning.

Lifting her head off the comforter, she latches a web to her computer, bringing it to her. Opening it she moves to put in her password, eyes drifting to the bottom right of the screen to look at the time— 4:57 pm ?!

How did the time fly by without her knowing?!

She hastily sat up and checked the date: Monday, February 5, 2018.

Monday .

Oh, Titian .

She immediately jumped off her bed, running to her office and crashing into employees along the way. 

Once there, she rips open one of her drawers to get a portal coin, teleporting to her private viewing section above the Battle Nexus. 

She hurries to the edge of the platform, only to see the arena empty and filled with sand. She lets out a sigh of relief and plops onto her couch. 

Roseline would have been devastated if she missed even a second of her fight; speaking of her…

She drags a hand down her face and sinks deeper into the sofa—she hadn’t even set eyes on her daughter at all today, Roseline must have been vibrating with anxiety, poor thing! She was so occupied with making sure that everything was perfect that she forgot who it was for…

She smooths her hair back with another sigh: Big Mama will make it up to her, she’ll have them spend a Mother-Daughter day sometime soon when she’s less busy.

She calls for a bellhop guard to bring up her calendar, seeing all the days that were crossed off.

She had a blank day a week from now, getting a pen and deeming it as their day.

She continued to instruct her staff to prepare for the celebration while sponsors filed into seats, chittering and chattering with anticipation for the upcoming match.

Her face formed a proud grin: of course her daughter had an enormous fan base, what wasn’t there to love? Oh, she always looked absolutely adorable with any of her assortment of dresses—Big Mama made sure she got durable materials to make them so they would last more than one fight.

The seating of the arena was filled to the brim a few minutes later, Big Mama seeing the announcer coming onto the big screens—a penguin-octopus yokai that she had recruited a few years ago.

She ignored the pleasantries that he made, sipping on some tea she ordered be made for her a little earlier.

She sees Roseline’s opponent come through the tunnel on the right side of Big Mama’s viewing area, the competitor being Troll.

She smiles into her teacup, giggling; oh this match would be over in 5 minutes tops—she readies a timer with her pocket watch just for funsies. Troll was simply not a good enough strategist to beat her: his tactic being,” smash, smash, smash” until the opponent surrendered to his strength.

It was simple, but it worked since he managed to get this far without dying.

“And going against Troll is our beloved and acclaimed Battle Nexus Champion! You know her by many names: Voracious Vermilion, Pristine Phantom, Terrific Terrapine; but let’s give her a welcome befitting her name!! Presenting: CRIMSON ROOOOOSSEEE!!!”

As Crimson walked out from the tunnel and into the light, the crowd roared with applause—with many getting up from their seats and throwing roses already.

All the while she smiled and waved, blowing kisses to the viewers, some of them fainting on the spot.

“Awww! Thank you for the roses my dearies, but wait until the end of the match, will you? We wouldn’t want to ruin them with this one’s impure blood, would we?”

The crowd yells “No!” and continues to cheer. Crimson goes around the arena picking up the roses and winking at a yokai with a particularly large bouquet, leading them to squeal and faint as well.

Big Mama chortles: Crimson was such a charmer! She sends an observer eye with a basket to collect the roses, bringing them to Big Mama—the sponsors were bound to have more anyway.

Mama’s eyes meet Crimson’s, hers widening slightly then going back to normal and smiling. She faces her opponent with a straighter posture and a wider smile.

Just then, a big brown, ornate closet falls into the arena, decorated with swirls and shining in the light—Big Mama makes sure it’s freshly polished every day. It then opens to showcase a wide selection of weapons.

“Competitors, choose your weapons!”

There were many options: mallets, swords, kunai, senbon, knives, odachi, hammers, whips, chains, and more—her wide collection of weapons were mostly inspired by an old fling of hers. Troll goes for his signature club with spikes, banging it on the ground for good measure.

Crimson also retrieved her iconic weapons: three identical umbrellas. They were white like her dress, with crystals hanging from strings, lace decorating the middle and a sharp crystal on the tippy-top.

Big Mama orders for tea to be made along with some biscuits and strawberry jam.

They go to opposite sides of the arena, Troll growling and hitting his club against his hand. Crimson holds her umbrellas at her side and one with her tail, having the tips face down in a relaxed stance.

The sponsors go silent and scoot to the end of their seats in anticipation, Big Mama just taking another sip of her hot tea.

“May the best fighter win: BEGIN !!”

Troll was the first one to move, rushing forward and getting to Crimson’s spot with only a few stomps.

He raises the club above his head, bringing it down on Crimson’s skull, only to have her block the hit with the umbrella in her left hand.

She pushes back with her umbrella, making him fly a few feet away, then she changes her stance slightly, ready to block again.

Troll bangs his fist into the ground, rushing in again and throwing sand in Crimson’s face; she blocks this however by opening her umbrella, rendering the dust cloud useless.

With the umbrella open, Troll quickly sneaks behind for a hit to the shell, but the hit is blocked with the umbrella held in her tail.

Troll backs away just in time to avoid a back kick.

Crimson twirls the still-open umbrella in her left hand, making the crystals on it shine.

Digging the club in the sand, Troll runs circles around Crimson, which creates another dust cloud.

The crowd murmurs, the fight being concealed thanks to the cloud of sand.

Impacts of hits could be heard along with growling, Crimson being the one that got pushed out of the cloud.

Finally closing the umbrella, Crimson’s eyes are wide and dilated with a manic smile.

“Oh ho ho! It isn’t as if I’ve seen that trick before; how original Trixy-Troll!”

She spins the umbrellas in her hands, creating a mini sand storm, making the dust cloud fade slightly. Closing her eyes she rushes forward, the dust cloud fully dissipating and no longer hiding Troll from view. 

She sniffs the air, then stabs Troll in his right arm, the one that held the club, making it start to bleed profusely.

With a mighty roar, Troll punches Crimson in the face hard .

Crimson falls back gracefully on two feet, snout now drawing blood. She wipes it with her tongue, her smile getting wider.

They rush toward each other and exchange blows, with Crimson landing more than Troll and having him being pushed back.

Big Mama turns to the side and picks up the watch on her coffee table: it’s been 3 minutes already.

She looks up just in time to see Crimson’s right umbrella plunge into Troll’s left eye, making him scream in agony and have blood pour out, making the arena smell of iron.

She jumps off him and lands a few feet away; taking the opportunity of her opponent’s current weakness, she slices Troll’s arms and legs with newfound vigor.

Big Mama’s eyes squint: Crimson was losing herself.

Her attacks were less graceful compared to earlier—she didn’t look desperate per se, but definitely manic. She would need to discuss this with her later.

On the other hand, today was her birthday, so Big Mama should spoil her. After all, what’s the harm of letting one learning opportunity go? It was just one day after all!

Crimson then proceeds to plunge one of her umbrellas into his gut and the other into his heart.

He was clenching his eye with his left hand while he threw up a steady stream of blood; letting go of his club and falling into his knees, now covered in blood and sand.

He looks up and his face is shrouded in shadow, Crimson standing in front of the light with her last umbrella gripped in her left hand.

From Big Mama’s perspective, she couldn’t see Crimson’s face, but she could see apparent fear on Troll’s; his life was most likely flashing before his dimbily-dim-lit eyes.

A crack and a squelch are heard as the crowd screams and cheers with applause as they throw roses into the arena, nasturtium flowers rain down to signal that a winner has been chosen, their orange petals being stained with crimson blood.

Big Mama’s timer goes off.

…

She sits in her office once again, counting the roses that were in the basket and pushing them to the left side of her desk.

She picks up a framed photo of Roseline and her when she was 6–the day she spoke her first word.

She was snuggling Roseline in all her arms while her daughter held onto her neck; Rose was wearing her favorite dress which was pink and had puffy sleeves with strawberries patterned on it, finished off with her mask tied in a bow. They were both wearing blinding smiles and facing each other, Gus being the one that took the photo.

Big Mama smiles at it and puts it back down, straightening it and wiping the glass with a nearby handkerchief. 

She hears the crescendoing footsteps grow closer and the exclamations the employees make as she reorganizes the files in her drawer.

There is a knock on the door and she instructs the fox bellhop to open it, expecting his yelp as Roseline pounces on him and looks at her with wide eyes.

Big Mama rises from her seat and opens her arms to hug Roseline, her daughter jumping into them and gripping her like a lifeline.

She motions for the bellhop to leave and coos to Roseline, having her reciprocate with a chur.

Big Mama could see and smell the blood from the fight, remnants of sand sticking to her and getting on the floor. No matter, she would just have a bellhop clean it at a later time. It was telling of Roseline's current state of mind from the fact that she came without bothering to clean herself.

It was silent except for her purrs and Rose’s churs, leaving them to soak in each other’s presence.

With her main arm, she lifts up her daughter’s head to rub her cheek, brushing off blood, sand, and tears.

She then retrieves another portal coin to transport them into Rose’s chambers, carrying her bridal style. Her red canopy bed was in the very left corner of the room, a bay window was in the center of the farthest wall facing the door, and a large closet door was next to the large vanity on the right wall.

She walks to the left side of the room that held the door to her daughter’s potty room, seating her in the toilet to get a bath ready.

The only sounds present are the clickety-clacking of Big Mama’s legs and running water.

She sticks her claw into the water to make sure it is at an adequate temperature—no more than 80 degrees Fahrenheit—and undresses her daughter, putting the soiled garments in a basket in the corner and her glasses on the countertop.

Big Mama then gingerly sets Rose into the tub and scrubs her scales with her pink loofah and Rosemary-with-Roses soap. 

She smiles to herself—her daughter has always had an unquenchable fascination with roses and botany: she begged for a floriculture book for her 7th birthday, pulling on Big Mama’s dress repeatedly for days on end in a begging gesture. 

Once done with her arms, Mama moves to scrub Rose’s shell, eliciting a pleased churr. Rose then lays plastron-down in the water, sinking down.

She would come up for air when she needed it, for now Mama would continue to scrub all the sand, grime, and blood off.

The comfortable silence lofts in the air as Big Mama scrubs Rose’s tail and legs, making her scales smell of roses and tea.

Putting the loofah down, Big Mama gets up and makes Rose’s bed—she decided to be generous today, it was her birthday after all! She straightens the red fuzzy carpet and readjusts the webs on the ceiling—just to let Rosie-poo know that her Mumsy loves her!

Digging inside the walk-in closet, Big Mama searches for an appropriate dress for the upcoming celebration, settling with a floribunda rose-themed column dress. It was mostly red that faded into orange at the top and carmine red at the bottom, the roses themselves being their natural color.

She nodded to herself and set the dress on the bed just as Rose stepped out in her bathrobe—which happened to be the only violet garment she owned.

Looking at the dress she tilted her head to the side in confusion and chirped, but Big Mama just motions her foreword.

She assists Rose in getting dressed and leads her to the door, getting her all-seeing crystal to make sure everything was set.

Satisfied with what she saw, Big Mama lifts up Rose with her main arms and hugs her to her chest; effectively being a living blindfold and putting Rose’s shell to the world.

She saw her pocket watch from the corner of her eye: 6:10

Oh, they were right on schedule: everything was right as rain! This would be her best celebration yet !!

Since she didn’t have any more portal coins on her, Big Mama had to walk to the Western Wing on foot—this was good, it would raise Rose’s curiosity and anticipation!

While walking she makes sure to pet her daughter’s head and purr, ensuring that Roseline would be at ease when it came time to converse with the guests. Rose churrs as they walk through the hotel in a tight embrace.

…

Her mouth opens in shock just like she anticipated, the beginnings of tears glistening in Roseline’s eyes.

In front of them was the largest conference room in the West Wing: tables were lined up along the perimeter of the room, filled with sweets and meats on top of red tablecloths, the ceiling being indented in a square shape with a chandelier containing thousands of little crystals hanging in the middle; the side walls being indented as well with lights inside, the floor covered with red carpet and the walls brown with columns of neon green ooze. Along the wall was a raised platform where guests were meant to perform and present their speeches.

In the middle of the floor were Big Mama’s most trusted associates and Roseline’s closest acquaintances: Gus, Pengu—the penguin-octopus hybrid—Loathsome Leonard, Malicious Mickey, Dastardly Danny, Heinous Green, as well as some band that Roseline favored—DIGG, she supposed—and Big Mama’s best bellhops.

She made sure that the band was free to perform and that the Mud Dogs weren’t occupied with another heist—which would have gotten them stuck in another jail which would have cost Big Mama.

This was the most yokai Big Mama had invited to Roseline’s birthday celebration since…

.

.

.

It really didn’t matter right now; there was no use of thinking on past tragedies anyw-izzle!

All that mattered was that Roseline was safe and happy and inside the hotel .

She smooths back her hair and opens her eyes— whenever did she close them?? —to see Roseline happily dancing to DIGG’s song with the Mud Dogs and Gus, Pengu and the bellhops helping themselves to food, eyes still vigilant.

That’s right: the hotel was safe, as long as they were inside there was nothing to worry over!

Big Mama helps herself to some food as she watches her daughter dance with her companions, laughing away with her snaggletooth on display.

…

“Happy Birthday, my Rosa Rubiginosa-poo”

Big Mama places the gift bouquet in the green vase upon Roseline’s nightstand, the lights from the Hidden city reflecting off of it. The bay window was opened slightly to let the breeze in, mahogany curtains fluttering.

Her daughter gives her a soft smile as she yawns and opens her arms for a hug, which her Mum gladly reciprocates.

The distant sounds of mystic animals can be heard, as well as the murmurs of yokai getting home after a long day at work.

She lets go once she feels Roseline’s breathing even out; she lays her down and tucks her in with Captain Snugglesworth as a protector.

She gives a gentle kiss to her forehead and backs away, adjusting the bouquet one last time: the orange roses, purple iris’, blue clematis’, and petunias flutter in thanks.

She jumps up and lands on a web on the wall near the ceiling, situated high enough so that the shadows would encompass her form.

She gets into a comfortable position and stills herself, quieting her breathing.

From her perch she watches until the sounds of civilization pierced their Eden, her nest.

Big Mama wouldn’t make the same mistake she did all those years ago; the Monster would never take her Spiderling as long as she was in her sight.