Work Text:
CRASH! BANG! ZAP!
Finally, the dust began to settle around a charred throne room. Stained Glass windows glaring loftily from their perch, covering the room in a crimson ruby red. Baltazar, the demon kind crumpled inwards, writhing in pain. A shudder, one moment. A wheeze, another moment. Stillness. His final moment. He laid there, as the room cooled down; the heat of the battle settled with adrenaline pumping in the only hearts left beating, two instead of three.
A carmine clad witch paired with a vermillion familiar stood over their final opponent. The throne awaited them, looming past the fallen ruler, whose heart beats no more.
“Tch. Pathetic,” muttered the young witch, stepping past the slain demon king, her shoes clacking against the tile. Odd how there was no blood. No matter, less clean up for them to deal with. All the better for the throne that awaited the sauntering soon-to-be arcane queen, and her loyal bumbling imp fluttering after her.
There on the seat of the throne was a crown, but a simple tiara. How convenient it was that it seemed to be a perfect fit for her head already from the looks of it. The metal was cold to the touch, imposing as it took shape before their eyes. Jagged edges smoothing out into sharp peaks, emeralds into rubies and spinel, silver into gold. Finally it stood still, a 5 petal golden tiara, not too unlike her current headgear.
Finally finished admiring her new crown, the young enchantress turns around prepared for her self-coronation, sitting down upon the plush seat of the throne, donning her tiara. The metal gently sat upon her head, radiating a warmth over the witch’s beaten body as magic trickled down, closing her wounds and soothing her bruises. No longer is she the mere magi-in-training with a 40% accuracy with her spells and potions. No, she is Queen Ashley, the ruby red ruler of the demon realms. A sly smirk graced the victor of the battle, enjoying how the title seemed to, as others would say, “had a nice ring to it”.
Eventually, her highness felt an urge to take off her new head adornment. Whether it was due to an increasing discomfort, an incoming magical migraine, or due to wanting the comfort of her old headband we will never know. Sighing, the twin-tail girl gently tugged her crown upward as to get it off. It wouldn’t budge. She tugged again, more firmer and harder. Still wouldn’t tug.
A jetstream of anxiety ran through her veins. Why isn’t this dumb crown getting off?! She tugged, and pulled, and yanked, but the crown wouldn’t come off. Well, not completely. It was tangled between her messy, black locks, nesting its bristles well in the knots of her hair. It is not coming off. Each pull and yank only served to frustrated the young witch, as burning tears of frustration edged in the corner of her eyes, only spilling due to the need and the pain of the tiara coming out by force was leaving a hefty bruise on both her scalp and her ego.
Just as her frustration, her pain, and her tears had come to a climax, Ashley found herself blinking into a new place. A familiar place.
She was no longer yanking an imposing golden diadem from her hair in a stolen courtroom meant for a queen, she was just home. In her haunted house. In her hopefully-not-haunted bed.
Loosening her vice grip on her comforter, Ashley relaxed, dragging her hand over her face after her nightmare. Not that she would consider it a nightmare, no matter how emotionally taxing it was when she thought of it. Or how looking at her hair gave her a slightest spike of dread more when she looked at it in a mirror. She was surprised, but not shocked that she came to touch a wet trail upon her cheek. Her tears of fury seemed to have flowed into reality. Whatever.
Dreams usually come from something in reality, right? The fight with the demon king seemed to have been a breeze, and none of her daily companions or annoyances were slain or close this time. The stained windows weren’t depicting anything out of the ordinary, and the tiara was normal. Or was it? Maybe the bristles of the crown had dug into her skin? Or did the magic tie it down deep into her hair roots so it wouldn’t come out? Or-
A deep, groaning, gurgling sound made its presence known in her bedroom. A gnawing feeling enhancing its presence.
Her thoughts can wait. She can’t think well if she hasn’t had breakfast anyways. No use combing- thinking about her dream on an empty stomach anyways.
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With her stomach comfortably stuffed, the day can properly begin. Typically, now would be the best time to get ready, changing from her soft, white nightgown into her iconic orange trimmed red dress, paired with her iconic orange collar and skull ornament, and… will she don her orange hair band? She was still miffed from her nightmare- strange dream last night, so maybe it would be best to forgo that accessory today.
She gathered up her hair into two parts and set to make her iconic twintails. Although using magic would make it easier, it would be a waste of energy. Ashley opts to do her hair the old fashioned way, the way most would argue is the only way to do hair. She twists her parts to separate them further, then pushing the closest length to her roots up. Following up is a common hair tie, wrapping around and gently pinching the hair together all to keep both parts of the hair separate.
It was at this moment the witch-in-training hesitated. She took a moment, ever so brief, to run her fingers through her locks. They stopped gliding through suddenly when they were gently pressed upon a tangle. Dread pooled at the bottom of her heart, briefly thinking of the diadem meshing with her knots from her dream.
…
Maybe she can skip the whole doing her hair part of her routine today.
All of this thinking and stuttering lost more time than she thought, as she looked at her grandfather clock. It’s about that time she’d go to the closest thing to hell on earth: work. Specifically at WarioWare headquarters. WarioWare. However that man got the money to make his business, his games, and to “pay” his workers will always be an enigma to the young magi, but like most things odd and unusual, there will be no answers to satiate her young mind.
Red, her aptly named imp familiar, was ready and waiting at the front door. The small demon tilted his head to the side, seemingly perplexed why the iconic twin tailed witch was without her hair done as always. At a second look, he shrugged and went back to his lackadaisical self, grinning with no real malition behind his stout fangs.
He always seemed to brighten up when she was around. Maybe it was because there would always be something interesting when they were around? Maybe because he liked the thrill of being her companion? Or maybe it was because he was supposed to, as her 3 in 1 broomstick, wand and familiar? It has never mattered before. It will never matter now. With a wordless nod of her head, Red spun into his broom form, hovering and waiting.
All of these thoughts won’t get either of them to work on time, so off the duo went.
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It seems as though flying quickly through the wind in a rush to a location did no favors for hair, or so Ashley and Red had found out after a speedy commute to work had left her untamed hair in a worse state than before. It was annoying, but it will calm down eventually. Hopefully.
Entering through the doors of the office building, the imp nudged his ward once they stopped at the elevator. “Ashley,” he prodded, “It’s your turn!” The aforementioned witch huffed a bit in response, as a morale of her worries were distracted when the most mundanely fun part of the day stood before her: pressing the elevator button. A good distraction from her conundrum regarding her mane of unkempt hair she would think, entering the chrome lift, pressing the button to the floor where WarioWare was housed.
It was boring, but there was a bit of fun as there was temptation. Pressing one button is nice, but the urge to splay a full hand up and down, hitting every floor would bring some much needed chaos to the day. Alas, there was hardly any time.
“Y’know,” started the winged familiar, “You can take my turn going down today if it makes ya feel better.” The young magician pondered for a moment. “Does that mean you’ll do the presses tomorrow?” “Nah, we can go back to normal then. Just have fun!” “Hmm…okay.”
Ding~
The duo had arrived on their floor. Joy.
The small elation from their lift trip cut short as reality came back to them, and the mess of her hair was back and noticeable. Whether or not her coworkers noticed or cared, none of them said a thing. Maybe it was for the better considering the following events that day.
A stray dumpling got flinged across the room and landed in Ashley’s nest of hair, when a partially mortified Cricket rushed by, eventually backtracking to pluck the food with a quick “Sorry!”, making her hair a bit sticky and giving off the scent of pork buns that got more prevalent as time went by. She did not like that.
One of the Crygor’s science experiments had resulted in a fizzy concoction, erupting from the test tube akin to a cola’s reaction with mentos, coating part of her mane with some of the strange concoction resulting impartial dampness and more frizz than before. A flabbergasted Doctor Crygor bumbled with an apology while taking notes of the results. She did not like that.
A certain alien with his piggy-esque transport zoomed by in a hurry, as the resulting air displacement meant her hair would blow in the same direction, looking more unkempt than ever. She muttered to herself that she’d make the extra-terrestrial pay. She really did not like that.
One of the ninja twins, she could not remember their names for the life of her, had zoomed by, but instead of having her hair blown in their direction, one of them stepped upon the ends of her locks, inducing a similar effect of tugging her hair from her scalp just like her nightmare. She. Did. Not. Like. That
The buzzing of electricity got louder and more pronounced, the glare of the fluorescent lights was expanded. One of them was flickering. How irritating. The mixed smell of garlic, sweat, cat fur, dog fur, and oil was getting to her. She was beyond on edge.
Her hair (is it even that anymore?) brushed against her skin. That. Was. It.
A yell of frustration came from her, as the telltale sign of frustration boiled over to her locks, akin to a potion boiling over for being on the cauldron for too long. Her matted hair turned white as magical energy was practically bouncing off of her hair. No. No. She should not discharge here. Too many computers, too much damage that she was not ready nor willing to repair magically or not. She needed to leave.
The girl stormed off to the women's restroom. It was hardly a safe haven, but it would have to do. A burning feeling made itself known in her eyes. She did smell garlic, but it was cut onions that made you tear up. No, there was no other outside factor. She was crying.
She was crying because of how her hair felt, tangled and rough and sticky and frizzy and oily. She was crying because of how her hair smelled, of garlic and pork buns and smoggy city air. Ashley looked up to her reflection. She hated how her hair looked, her puffy eyes made the whole thing look even more horrid. Sticking out in every odd place, both frizzy and damp, and looked more like a hawks nest if anything. It was a wonder how the mirror hadn’t cracked by now, solidifying her unkempt mane as a mainstay for however many years of bad luck or so she thought. No matter. She needs to calm down. Big witches don’t cry over something as dumb as hair, or so she was taught.
Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. Breath out for eight. Pause. Breathe in for four, hold for seven, breath out for eight. Pause. Repeat. Repeat until her heart beat quotes down, until the buzz of electricity softens, until the tears stop stuttering out, until the hiccupping stops, until she is calm.
It was only a few moments since she had calmed down until a knock was heard from the door.
“Ashley,” came a motherly voice, “Are you okay in there?” Her predicament was far from okay, yet also far from disastrous. If she said she were okay, the voice would come in to check up on her. If she said she weren’t, the voice would come in to ‘assist’. No matter what, there was no escaping. She tore off the metaphorical band-aid and opened the door. “Come in,” she mumbled
In walked her fellow employee, tall, mature, donning an ensemble that would look more in place in a home than at an office of green sweatpants, red hoodie, yellow hair clips and a yellow apron. A gentle smile sat on her face, but her furrowed brows gave away her true feelings of concern. It was 5-Volt, the mother of another fellow coworker aptly named 9-Volt.
“What a day, eh?” She starts with a soft voice, “Seems like today isn’t your day huh?” Ashley looks to the side in a bit of shame. She nodded. “Hmm, well…is it because you didn’t have breakfast?” A shake. No. “Did you not get enough sleep?” Another shake. No. “Is it because of your hair?” A shake, but it stutters a bit at the end. It morphs into a nod. Yes. “Ah. I see.”
Two girls of different generations stood amongst the sinks and stalls. They are at a standstill.
“You know, when I was your age, coming to terms about the supernaturalness of myself and what not, I never though doing my hair would amount to anything,” she started, “That kind of thinking got me into a bit of a rough patch when it came to feeling anything but negativity!” 5-Volt took a few steps towards the younger girl, slowly before stopping to gauge any reaction from Ashley. Nothing yet. “My hair got all matted, tangled, and every time I tried to do anything about it I just got more mad. It sucked. I had no one to help me get any of this in order.” Another pause, as she knelt down to meet Ashley’s height. “Are you feeling the same way?”
A memory popped up in mind of a rude teacher who scolded Ashley over the way she’d presented herself. Her outfit was too spooky for other kids, so she would say. She needed to smile more as her facial monotony had freaked out her peers, so she would add. And when she would try to get Ashley to get her hair ‘in order’ with braids, it would hurt. The brush would tug hard at her roots, getting entangled in her knots. Every yank upward would serve to almost bruise her scalp. Her hair looked even more frazzled as the energy around her took a similar feel. It was quite a meeting with the principal when she’d have to turn her teacher back from being a spoon.
A familiar rush of liquid dread filled her veins, taking a few steps back, her heart beating faster than it would normally. She would not make eye contact with 5-Volt. Seeing her emotions change again so suddenly, the older woman took a few steps back to give the child some more room to calm down.
“Hey,” she started softly, “Hey, its going to be okay. You are not alone. You have people who want to help you. I would like to, if you would let me.” Ashley looks to her, less frightened, but suspicion laced her glare. “Yeah, that’s warranted. If it’ll help, we can make…a system! Yes! If I do anything you don’t want me to, you can tap me three times and I will stop immediately. If I hurt you, tap four times. Let’s just try and see if this will help. If it won’t, we can try something else or stop completely. It’s all up to you.”
Ashley thinks over the eldest Volt’s offer. After a moment or two, she nods her head once more. Yes.
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Ashley went home with the Volts that day. It was odd taking a commute she was not used to. Red was there, hovering around her frantically doing whatever he could to help her as an apology for his absence when he assumed she needed his wanton support most. The Volt’s minivan was comfortable enough, and as the latest guest she ”got shotgun”. The other riders didn’t mind, but rather preferred it as both 9 and 18-Volt got into an animated discussion over…something. Must be something related to their games in progress or the newest video game on the market considering how most words seemed decently out of Ashley’s dialect of understanding. Finally, the first stop arrived, 18-Volt’s house.
“Hey Mrs. 5-Volt!” The biggest person in the carpool started, “Is it okay if 9-Volt could come over to play games? Oh, and is it cool if Red could come too?” Ashley looked to her demonic companion, already sensing the pleading to join the two boys. She turns to 5-Volt, pondering as she parked the van in front of the driveway, “Well…if you make sure to come back before 7:30 for dinner then you can go. But make sure to get your homework done first, okay?” The youngest of the Volt family gave a small “Yes!” as he grabbed his backpack and opened the door before stopping.
“What about Red? Wanna come with?” Red finally made eye contact with his witchy charge, nervous and hesitant. Ashley sighed a bit before nodding, which made Red smile in appreciation. “Sure thing! Make sure to call his house when you’re done so we can go home, okay?” Ashley nodded again in understanding. And so, Red, 9-Volt and 18-Volt go off to play at his house.
The car doesn’t move again until the trio of obnoxious boys had already made their way through 18-Volt’s door. The energy that started to prickle up her neck again had left with them. 5-Volt turns to her with an apologetic smile, “Sorry about that! They can be a bit... much. Oh! If you want you can pick a radio station! Or we can just go on in silence. Whichever you prefer.” Taking a moment to mull this over, Ashley decides that maybe driving in silence for a while would be better. 5-Volt nods in understanding, and starts driving the both of them to her humble abode. It doesn’t take long until they arrive at a quaint 2-story house donning a warm red much like the elder Volt’s hoodie. They pull up towards the house and the car is parked, going silent and still.
“Are you ready?” Ashley nods. The same icy feeling slowly trickles into her veins, but a future demon queen needs to be brave. Best to start working on that now, she supposes. She unbuckles the seat belt and opens the door, hopping out of the car and into the warm spring air. She shuts the car door and makes her way around, meeting with 5-Volt as she locks the car with a quick, chirping “beep-beep!” They make their way towards the front door as the lock clicks open. 5-Volt steps inside before holding the door open for Ashley. She steps inside.
“Oh!” starts 5-Volt, “You’ll need to take off your shoes. I got some house slippers so don’t worry about getting dirty.” She fetches the slippers as Ashley toes off her red shoes and slips into the house shoes. “Alrighty then.. Do you want some water? Juice? Snacks? Or should we just get into the thick of it?” Ashley takes some time to consider 5-Volt’s offer before muttering, “Some water should be fine.” The motherly figure nods as she sets off towards the kitchen, swiftly pouring some water into a glass. She makes it back to Ashley, leading her towards the bathroom.
Like the rest of the disgustingly homey house, the bathroom is both not a lot yet it has some clutter. It’s lived in with some products lining the walls of varying brands and types, bru- oh those towels look tacky. Maybe she could borrow them to practice her transfiguration spells.
As Ashley observes the variety of stuff within the restroom, 5-Volt sets the glass on the bathroom counter before sheepishly blushing, “Sorry about the mess! Didn’t have time to clean. Oh let me grab a chair.” She sets off to find something for Ashley to sit on as she finds herself alone again.
Ashley glances over the restroom again as her curiosity starts to wane. She is alone again and her thoughts can’t help but.. Go over the events of today again. The more she thinks about what happened today and the way. Oh god is that how her hair feels? Oh. Oh she does not like this. The icy feeling comes rushing through her, freezing and giving more weight towards her dread. Her breathing picks back up, moving from something so natural towards something so forced. Just like how the diadem forced itself into her locks harshly. That is, until she smells something... sweet? Something sweet and creamy, but not to any extreme.
5-Volt comes back, carrying a chair from her kitchen under one arm and holding a mug of something in her other hand. She pauses as she saw Ashley and says nothing. She nods gently, her eyes laced with either pity or understanding. Ashley can’t tell. 5-Volt just sets down the hot chocolate in front of her as she scoots past her, setting up the chair in front of the large mirror.
“Alrighty then”, 5-Volt starts, “Whenever you’re ready, just hop on the chair. I need to grab some things first.” She goes towards the other side of the bathroom and starts rummaging through her cabinets looking for whatever useless concoctions she would use to torture her sensitive scalp. Ashley turns her attention towards the hot chocolate sitting before her, now at a comfortable hottish-warm temperature. Optimal for drinking. She gives it a little sniff before sipping a bit on the milky-chocolatey goodness. In an almost instant, the ice in her veins give way towards a warm, non-tacky homey feeling. It’s alright, she supposes, as Ashley moves the mug to sit in front of the chair, hopping on and looking straight onto her reflection. Yikes.
Before Ashley could dwell on the appearance of her hair for long, 5 comes to turn to her with her arms full of different hair products. As the elder of the two begins to blabber on about what each product is and what they do, Ashley tunes out a bit as she continues to sip on her beverage. Oh, is that a hint of cinnamon she tastes?
“Okay! Are you ready?” Ashley hesitates a bit before she nods. Yes. I guess. 5 brandishes her torture weapon of choice, an odd looking plastic wired brush and two spray bottles, one branded and one filled with water. “Is it okay if I explain what I’m going to do?” Ashley nods again knowing that she isn’t really going to learn any of this.
While giving her explanations, jabbering the setting sun away, 5 is brushing Ashley’s hair after putting a “primer” and splaying it down with water to help soften the tangles. She is gently brushing the kinks in Ashley’s hair out with a brush specifically made for brushing wet hair. It’s not harsh and it is not tugging against her scalp. There's some resistance as it tries to glide through her locks. The rhythmic glides going over and over from the bottom of her hair to making its way to the top... well... It feels comforting.
After the tangles are out, 5 goes through the process of putting different products on her hair, only using 2 more of them so Ashley can get the hang of it without being too confusing. It’s more simple than she thought. Some oils here, some hair masks there. Maybe she could make her own? Would a mandrake cream help make her locks not look like the way they were before? As 5 adds the products to her hair, and brushes them to look invisible, Ashley chances a glance towards the mirror within her brushing haze. It looks... alright. Better than before but ultimately alright.
Once the hair is treated and brushed, 5 offers to Ashley if she could do her twin tails. Ashley is still in the zone and nods. Yes. 5 volt takes her time, using a smaller, thinner brush to make her hair part symmetrically. She splits them into two sections, using one of her scrunchies to hold 1 part together as she gently holds the other half in her hand. Now, she gently brushes the proximal parts of her hair up and towards where her hand holds the rest of the hair, doing her best to be gentle and to not let a single strand fall out of her soft clutch. Using a hair tie, she twists and gently pulls her hair through, tying her hair into one half of a twintail. 5 promptly does the same towards the other half, as gentle and tender as ever. Once she is done, 5 taps Ashley to let her know it’s done. Ashley looks at her reflection. Better. So much better.
She likes what she sees, and touches her now slightly damp hair and is surprised when she finds it soft. Soft like her bed, soft like her plush bunny, soft and hers. It’s smooth too, and her fingers glide through it like butter. Ashley smiles. A true, unadulterated smile. No longer hampered by the bad day before her. No longer held back by her nightmare. No longer in agony over her hair. Grinning softly.
She looks to 5 and thanks her before going back to her typical stoic looks. 5-Volt smiles and with a little, “No problem” offers to call up Red to come for her. Ashley nods once. Yes.
5-Volt steps out of the bathroom to use her landline, talking softly and asking for both her son and for Red to come down home. Once the giggles end and the phone is placed back with a soft click, she comes back in and looks proudly upon her work. “Y’know,” she starts, “When I had hair as long as yours, I’d put them into little braids. Made a lot less trouble in the mornings and helped with retaining some moisture if they were wet earlier.” Ashley does retain this information into the back of her head and gives a curt nod. The doorbell rings. 5-Volt smiles.
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The dream of what she hopes to be her future happens again, same as always. The fallout of a magical duel with ⅔ hearts still beating. Did Red have a heart? Did the demon king? Who knows. Who cares. Ashley certainly didn’t care as she marched her way up the throne room up towards a nice seat she will become very familiar with. As the new demon queen. There, upon its seat was the demanding crown, quickly morphing into that familiar ruby and garnet encrusted golden diadem. With little hesitation, she dons it upon her head.
When Ashley puts on the crown, her rightfully earned crown, she doesn’t feel any different. Slightly proud of her victory usurping the throne of the former demon king. A little thrown off on its weight, which she quickly becomes adjusted to. Now for the hard part. Taking it off. Oddly enough, the magical headpiece doesn’t try to entangle itself into her head. Instead, when she takes it off, it comes off perfectly with no issue. No tugs, no bruising, just comes right off as if its not a part of her body. Which it isn’t. Seeing as its a crown and not a plant. Or a parasite.
Finally, as the dust settles, the nightmare finally graduates into a dream as her coronation continues. The next part finally happens, a feast to the new queen. With a warm stream of hot chocolate and delicacies of all kinds of realms sits upon her new long table, Ashley can now rest easy as her plans for total realm domination can continue smoothly. A warm feeling bubbles in her chest as her bloodstream lightens. The world becomes a familiar hazy as it goes dark.
She wakes up. No tears, no frustrations, just a gentle awakening from her pleasant and expected dream. Her hand brushes against her braided pigtails. Still soft, and a hint of dampness. Good. As the warmth of her bed typically beacons, it is unfortunately time to get up. Ashley leaves the comfort of her bed, goes through her typical morning routine, goes down to eat breakfast, with her twin braids slightly loose, but still intact.
After breakfast, the mansion’s doorbell rings in its groaning, depressing mood. Ashley checks the front, finding a basket instead of an unwanted intruder. In it are the products 5-Volt used to get her hair in order and above all else: a new brush meant for wet, tangled hair to comb through gently. Similar to the one used on her yesterday.
Ashley picks up the basket, smiles to herself, and closes the intimidating mansion doors, better prepared to continue getting ready for the day.
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Ashley comes to work, better mood and all. Of course no one can really tell but the oppressive gloom and doom is less gloomy and doomy today. If they took the time to notice that is. Her hair is done as it usually is, but it seems more defined and smooth. It looks taken care of. Ashley is slightly proud of it as she swings the basket in her arms. She has the same basket as the one she was given earlier. There are no hair products or brushes, rather it is filled with something…else covered with a cloth. The other employees don’t ask or say a thing in fear of the little girl despite her less eerie mood.
She goes to 5-Volt’s office area. The older woman is seated at her pod working on making whatever tacky microgames she was told to make by the greedy garlic man. 5-Volt takes notice of the unexpected visitor, before grimacing a bit when she sees the basket she gifted being given back to her. Well, change doesn’t come in one night and it was rude of her to assume things.
Before she can stammer an apology, Ashley gives the basket back, muttering a small, “Thank you.” before hurrying off to her own workstation. She is a bit behind considering she wasn’t able to get much done yesterday
Curious, 5 volt looks into the returned basket, finding something just sweet as the little gesture Ashley gave. The room is quickly filled with a soft, nutty scent. It's fresh muffins, still warm to the touch.
5-Volt smiles, and says to no one, “You're welcome.”