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An Unnecessary Evil

Why are girls allowed to say girlfriend to refer to a platonic friend but boys can't say "this is my boytoy Twink male wife Jason?

another part of the Au “where everything is exactly the same but Lady Bone Demon destroys everyone with facts and logic”

“You’ve been busy.”

Appearing strong when weak was, what Macaque considered a key component when in a bad spot. His “brothers” always considered him the most cowardly among them. Usually, he would roll his eyes and snark that he was rather the most intelligent- able to keep a cool head. He’d need it.

“Tell me,” The Lady’s voice was boundlessly more undone- calm, yet accompanied by a second presence that echoed her words aloud. “What madness overcame you that you would forsake your oath?” She asked, the pitch of her tone dropped.

“When did you decide to betray me?”

The answer to that question was certainly nothing that the bone witch wanted to hear- that he had not a moment of hesitation in tossing her key to the side, not ever any intention of freeing her in the first place. What was he supposed to say? That it didn’t count because he crossed his fingers?

“Listen, Lady Bone Demo-” He started, with a casual tone and a smile laced with nonexistent nonchalance, but The Lady was in no mood to hear whatever seat-of-his-pants lie he was planning to give her.

Sharply, her eyes flickered open, a blue gleam enforcing her stony glare as the winds pushed him back. He had to cover his face, anchoring his foot down to the ground so that he wouldn’t be pushed back by the sheer force.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” Her voice was louder now, and clearer, no longer accompanied by the eerie whispering. “What I am?”

He clenched his teeth at the sound of her voice splitting into many at the last sentence, each one ringing in his six ears.

“Were my instructions, perhaps, unclear to you, Liu’er?” At the mention of his traditional name, he felt similar to a child who’s parent who just called them downstairs with their full name. A fight-or-flight instinct within him begged him to inch away into the shadows, but he knew all too well how that would end.

“Did I cause you pain during your resurrection? Or perhaps, you felt yourself above a task so unbelievably simple as freeing me from my prison tomb,” She said, staring down at him, before vanishing in a blur of blue, before reappearing in front of him, mere inches away from his face just as quickly. “In exchange for something so unbelievably meager as your soul!?”

Again, her voice seemed to contort, and this time, he really did step back, trying to get as far away from her as he could. He stumbled backwards, bumping into the chest of the lady’s puppet, who sent him a wide, unnerving smile that reminded Macaque of a young child amused at a sibling or classmate getting in trouble.

He placed his hand on Macaque’s back, shoving him forward with surprising strength. The wind was knocked out of him for a moment, but he mustered a confident smirk, looking up at the bone demon, who stood before him, arms folded behind her back.

“So…” He said, a conscious effort going into keeping his voice steady, “You want something.”

“From you? No.” The lady said tersely, eyes cooling back into her host’s deep brown ones as she turned away. “There is nothing I have to gain from the presence of someone who is unable to insert a key into a keyhole.”

With her back turned, a white circle opened up beneath Macaque, chains in her signature blue color shooting out of it to entangle his limbs, dragging him inside. “Wait!” He huffed, yanking on the bindings, trying to stay afloat. “So you’re just going to kill me because I didn’t open your stupid cage!? You dragged me all the way out here so that you could get even!?”

The puppet lunged forward, grabbing Macaque by the hair and holding him down, smile wide with giddy anticipation of Macaque’s imposing death (the strange fellow didn’t seem to like him very much). The Lady turned her head, eyes narrow.

“Even?” She echoed, before her lips quirked upwards into a smile, and her brows creased before she let out a shrill laugh.

“If I wanted vengeance, my champion, then I wouldn’t grant you a painless death such as this.” She flickered out of view again, appearing in front of him as she crouched down to meet his eyes, a cold smile decorating the soft features of the child she was possessing- an eerie contrast.

“I would shrink you,” She said, holding her fingers close together to intimate being tiny.

“And find a nice jar to leave you trapped in for a few centuries. I’ll even find a nice blanket in the color of your choice to make sure you never get to look at the face of another sentient being. With that being the alternative, ask yourself,” She leaned down. “Wouldn’t you rather die?”

His lips parted in mild horror- but only for a moment as she leaned away from him. He struggled against the puppet, thrashing about, as if that would save him. “Wait, what do you want!?” He yelled. “I can find Wukong, and his brat too!”

She stood, turning away. “Goodbye, Six-Eared Macaque.” She said coolly. “Your magic will be going towards an excellent cause. You will be much happier in your next life.”

Macaque released a grunt of distress at her retreating form. Was that supposed to reassure him or something?

“Wait!” He yelled, disliking the frantic tone. Was he really about to die? “Damn it, Baigujing, listen for once!” After that, it was silent for a moment. The pull of the chains seemed to ease on his limbs, and the thrall was no longer shoving his head into the pit of doom.

“…You may speak.” She said tiredly, probably of him and his refusal to die with dignity, and baffled with the audacity he had to use her traditional name like they were old chums. “Do be quick about it. I do not have all day to listen to your pointless excuses.”

“Why do you think I didn’t free you? Probably because you never make room for reason in all your crazy ramblings about destiny,” He sneered.

Maybe insults weren’t his best option, but in Lady Bone Demon’s actions, there was always method to her madness. Maybe he could find some way to compromise if he could just get through to her, he could at least get out of this Scott-free.

“Is that so?” She hummed, turning her head to look away. “I suppose you would feel that way. I understand why many try and fight destiny- it is oftentimes cruel. What I do not understand why they fight the only solution to that problem.”

“The only solution is destroying the world?” He snapped. His voice came out a lot less “understanding” than he intended. We’re his acting skills slipping? She chuckled.

“And I suppose you’d prefer I leave it to it’s devices?” She mused. “That I allow war, famine, and crime to endlessly continue when I have the power to stop it all?”

“So you’re a Good Samaritan now? Let me guess, taking over this city was a necessary evil?” He mocked her aristocratic manner of speaking, able to rise to his feet again, as the chains had gone limp.

“Quite correct,” The Lady said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And you, Six-Eared Macaque? Was destroying this city to get to Sun Wukong a necessary evil?”

He stopped, eyes knitting together at the question. “How do you…”

“My servant made it a point to update me on current events worldwide upon being freed from my tomb.” She answered quickly. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was smiling.

“Don’t tell me the cat has your tongue now, Liu’er. What happened to all your newfound self-righteousness from before?”

He grit his teeth. “So, I’m not the crème de la crème of purity and goodness.” He said, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. “You certainly aren’t any better than me. You’re the one who brought me back to life.”

She lightly laughed, and Macaque grew angrier by the second. She was still going to kill him after this, wasn’t she? He needed to get the upper hand, but…

“You’re quite quick to blame others, I notice. I presume that is also my fault that my little host was orphaned in that attack of yours?”

Macaque’s eyes widened. What? “What…?” He repeated his thoughts aloud, no louder than a whisper, but it didn’t go unheard by The Lady.

“I wasn’t trying to…” He trailed off. “But you did.” The Lady finished for him, titling her head upwards as she sighed. “I’ve seen selfishness and hatred far more intense than yours, Six-Eared Macaque.” The wicked amusement she had garnered earlier had faded. She turned to look at him, finally.

Her eyes seemed far too tired, and filled with far too much anger to be on the face of a little girl.

Her tone was cool as she looked above him, at the night sky. “But it will all be over soon.”

For a moment, all was quiet.

“Why’d you pick me?” He asked, after a moment. The Lady, seemingly brought back down to earth, hummed in question. “Anyone could have opened your tomb. But you went out of her way to pluck my soul out of the Diyu, specifically. Why?”

The Lady’s expression morphed into one of annoyance. “You’re only wondering this now?” She asked crossly. His expression didn’t change.

“I had decided not to tell you what I had planned to happen to you in your next life, but I suppose, if it will give you closure,” She hummed. “I can answer your last question.”

She’s really set on killing me… He thought wearily.

“There is one person who exists in this world who, with certainty, will not exist in the new one. Do you know to whom I am referring?”

“Wukong. Right,” Macaque answered. “Yes,” The Bone Lady sighed, closing her eyes. “But in the absence of the Great Sage, there will be a void that will need to be filled.” She spat the words “Great Sage” out as if a worm she’d found in an apple. (He understood finding the title obnoxious. Great Sage, Equal to Heaven? Give me a break.)

A void? Macaque thought for a moment. As in, an empty space that would need to be filled- someone to replace Wukong as the monkey king. MK? But…

Macaque’s head shot up. “You mean-!?” The Lady cut him off with a smile. “Interested now, are we?”

The next thing he knew, the chains were gone.

Chosen

Sick of waiting for someone to write a Lady Bone Demon-centric story so I’m doing it myself

When she was born, the air was bitter, and the sky was sickly.

She’d awoken from a heinous dream, in which a skeleton with its lips painted red stood over a world in shambles- and apparently, the real world was no better.

There was no love or light in sight, and drops of rain randomly and irregularly hit her face, as if the rainwater didn’t want to be there, either.

Like any good newborn, she screamed at first, jumping up and swatting her arms at nothing.

She heaved, taking in as much of the putrid oxygen that she could stand, welcoming and hating it as it enters her lungs, like a two-faced bastard welcoming his worst enemy into his home for the sake of appearances.

“Oi!” She heard a man’s voice call along with something else, though she was unable to make out the words.

Her hearing was muffled, like she was underwater- though the unforgiving smell of smoke and pollution riding on the air refused to let her forget that she wasn’t drowning, but breathing.

Breathing- yes, breathing. She was breathing. She was alive.

Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to say, names to call out, but nothing came. Her eyes stung, and she frantically rubbed at them. They burned with dirt, soot, and from the smoke in the air.

Once her eyesight had stabilized to ‘just a little bad’ she had the cruel misfortune of being able to look around.

In the air, there was smoke. On the ground, there was fire. Her ears rang, as if trying to drown out the sounds of shouting and screaming for her convenience.

As far as she could see, troops were being pulled back, supposedly finding the wreck they’d created of this town to be sufficient.

She saw whatever belongings that were salvageable being picked out of the rubble and stored, and the dead being picked up by surviving men and piled onto the backs of carts to be dumped into mass graves.

Carts like the one she was on. Her nose stung with sudden realization, and she took a moment to look around herself.

She was sitting on one of the carts carrying away the dead, surrounded by putrid corpses.

Her vision instantly blurred and she screamed, taking her first steps as she pushed out of the cart and stumbled into the dust.

The man who called out earlier said something again, voice rough and angry. He grabbed her by the arm, words slurred together as he cursed and jabbed at her, calling her clumsy and useless and stupid.

He spoke with familiar hatred, as if he’d known her for several years and despised each one, but she’d never seen the man in her life.

She’d never seen anyone here, for that matter.

His dirty handprints had bruised her arm by the time he let go, shoving her into line with a bunch of elderly, sick, injured, women and children.

Their faces were wicked, mouths curled in contempt, expressions forming hideous snarls and sending anyone and everything dirty looks, as if looking for someone to hate- as if their situation wasn’t enough.

The had no idea how to speak or what to say, so she huddled into the crowded corner of the ashy tents, nearest the other lonely-looking women.

Whenever she looked away from the ball she’d curled herself into, she could see the women’s eyes- clutching onto their hatred like soldiers held their swords.

She looked away.

Eventually, men came and plucked the older boys from the tent, forcing them into work, too. She watched as the contagious were burned and the elderly were beheaded to whittle down mouths to feed, too afraid to move.

Maybe she wasn’t alive after all, she thought. Maybe she was an awful person in the life she couldn’t remember and this was Hell.

And then a little boy tugged at her sleeve.

He called her by a name she did not recognize, and she stared at him in response, looking down into his eyes, eyes that held so much sorrow and madness that if he told her he’d served in the imperial army for forty years, she’d believe him.

Despite it all, he smiled a big, toothy grin, closing his eyes and sniffling as a bit of snot escaped him.

“Big sis-ter don’t be sad,” he’d stuttered, tripping over his words. “Big sis alw-always protect me. Big sis my hero! She- she save the world one day!”

Her throat was dry and it hurt to breathe, but she laughed, tears that had been waiting for hours to flow washing away the dirt in her eyes.

She laughed and she pet the boy’s head, and she screamed and thrashed and cried when he was taken away to he burned with the rest of the sick, even though she couldn’t remember his name, or who he was.

An old woman, who, big surprise, she didn’t know either, took a wooden ladle and beat her with it as punishment for her outburst in response to the boy being taken, dragging her back inside the tent when she tried to run out after the boy.

“It’s hopeless,” said one of the oldest men, moments before he slipped into unrest, never to wake again.

Beside herself with rage for the little boy’s death, she stood while the others sulked.

“You are all fools!” She’d said. They looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“You’re giving up and throwing your children to that mess? For what? Can’t you see that you, as the people are still here? Rebuild, I beg of you!” She pleaded. “Try!”

She spoke for this random village she had no attachment to as if it were her own, like it was her own child. Why, she had no idea.

One of the old crones from the corner scoffed in response. “The village beauty,” she sneered. “Always the first to lose it.”

“Yeah,” A teenage girl agreed. “We’re not the gods, you know. We can’t just magic our village back! And even if we could, those hooligans will just burn it down again!”

The teen jabbed an accusing finger at her, as if it were all her fault.

“Who can save us!?” She demanded, voice shrill and bitter. “Who can possibly fix this?”

For that, she had no answer and faltered. The boy’s face flashed before her eyes, clearing her vision and guiding anger back into her tone.

“If you cannot help yourself, then I will find somebody who can!” She snapped. “I’m not going to give up on all of you, no matter how faithless and unsightly you’ve all become!”

The crones howled in injustice and the old men jeered at her, calling her slurs and names. She blocked them out, leaving with her dignity and faith.

The next days of her life found her finding that she didn’t need to use the bathroom, or drink water, no matter how much she wanted some.

The gods decided to favor her one day, and she found a clear river with water to drink from. In it, she saw for the first time her reflection.

The face she saw, she did not recognize.

Before the month ended, she had found another village- this one not in ruins. It was bustling and busy yet poor and beggarly, all of its money and taxes fiendishly boarded by the village’s gluttonous lord.

I ought to give that fat cat a stern talking too, she thought, but the lord refused to see a woman outside of the bedroom, let alone for a political discussion.

She had no power to do anything! She was angry, so regretful that she’d been born a woman with no status, or even a name to her unfamiliar face that her own flesh cowered before her anger, molding and reshaping itself.

The next day, she entered the rich man’s mansion as an innocent old man, demanding that he share his wealth with his citizens.

Apparently, while being a man might grant you an audience with the land’s lord, it certainly did not mean he would listen to anything you have to say.

But she didn’t let it get her down- she could shapeshift! Who cared if this meant she was likely a demon now, infesting a skeleton and wearing her human corpse like it was a designer hat?

Imagine all the people she could help with such a power! The lives she could save! Her very own flesh quivered in fear of her rage. Soon, all evil would feel the same way.

As if she’d been newly awakened, she was greeted by her first- or second dream that very night, sleeping outside among other homeless people.

A kind-hearted boy on the heavier side with a warm, handsome face waved to his people, eyes slightly watery as their city flourished under his care.

Beneath the ground, six feet under, was the fat lord the citizens currently lived under and his lustful son, side by side, souls being pried from their corpses and pulled into the Diyu for their sins.

If only that boy were real, she thought that day, as she packed her things to move on to the next area.

And then she saw him.

Shopping for bread, smile as warm as the sun as he treated each person he came across with kindness and compassion. The lord’s son, she’d soon found out. His second son, the son of not his wife but his mistress, who could never inherit the land unless his father and brother were gone.

If a moment, vile thoughts filled her head.

If the other two were gone, she thought, then this kind man would rule peacefully, unlike his oafish father and brother.

But no- she couldn’t possibly. Just because she had a dream about it didn’t make it real.

A colder side of her whispered; “But how did your dream know the son’s face? A face that which you’ve never seen? Look at these people,” it hovered over her, its lying tongue flicking against her ears. “They need you. Do you think you had that dream for no reason? Don’t be a fool, girl.”

She packed her things as quickly as possible. She wanted to run away from this. She decided against the unholy thoughts that invaded her mind, asking her to do things she, as a human, could not possibly do.

The cold side of her snapped and snarled, curling against her flesh. Wickedness and seething rage twisting its voice, it spoke to her again.

“You’re not human.”

These words played on repeat in her mind, hands trembling as she poisoned the lord’s wine in the garb of a servant, wearing the face of an old woman.

They went from a whisper to a raw-throated scream when she stopped by the lord’s mistress’ room, and stained by her side for a few hours and she sobbed into her plush pillow, patting her back, and assuring her that everything would be okay, as if she couldn’t see the bruises, burns and bites that marred her arms and neck.

“Why do men like that walk the Earth?” The poor woman cried, dirtying her expensive blankets with snot and tears.

“Dear Lord, strike him down!” She begged, hands clasped in frantic prayer to anyone who would listen. “Demons, claim him for your Hell! Take him away, please! Somebody! Somebody!”

She’d fallen asleep that night, only to be greeted with another dream. The demon hidden beneath her flesh shivered with excitement, twitching underneath her skin.

It tugged and pushed her all around the dream, pointing and showing her what it wanted her to see like an excited child pointing and laughing at a jester.

The lord was to be buried with his late first wife, and his eldest son near. No one attended the funeral, callously rejoicing in the streets and in their homes that their wicked lord and his wicked son were dead.

The mistress’ eyes watered with relief as she hugged her son, who was greeted by the people who shook his hand and bowed to him.

“Call to me,” the skeleton wrapped her bony fingers around the mistress’ shoulders.

The words were spoken to the mistress, but were meant for her. “Call to me, and it is yours.”

A day later, she smiled for the first time in a long time. She smiled, because this time, it wasn’t just a dream.

It was real. At her hands, in response to a prayer, two men had died. Two men who were surely being welcomed by Hell’s embrace.

Poisoned wine turned sweet as chugs were sold by the dozen in the square, the bustling city ablaze with happiness and hope she hadn’t seen since her birth.

This wasn’t a punishment, she decided. She wasn’t an awful human, cursed to remain on Earth as a skeleton demon. She helped people! She could make a difference if she just held on!

It hurt at first, sure. Sure, she’d seen a lot of things she didn’t want to see, and would have liked to forget. Maybe she didn’t like… killing people.

But that is why she was reborn a demon. A demon with magic power unfamiliar to the world of man. It may hurt, but nobody else would bother doing it. There was a reason for everything, wasn’t there?

She was chosen for this.

Perhaps that is how she was able to hold on for so long.

She had continued her work in several other areas. She had held many positions of power over her years, ceremoniously being called names such as, The White Bone Spirit, Baigujing, or The Lady Bone Demon. She wore whatever face necessary to her goal- nay, her purpose.

She advised countless leaders, eased political tensions, and worked in trade over the Silk Road. Every now and again, she would succeed. But mortals were finicky, evanescent, parasitic creatures that either took or were taken from and stomped their morals out like lights at the slightest gust of wind.

Nothing ever lasted.

She wasn’t doing enough. She hadn’t gone far enough.

Her blessed precognition had even been failing her lately, replaying the same horrid vision of her demon prying itself from her flesh and smiling hauntingly as it engulfed the world in blue flame, eating light and darkness alike.

She’d soon begin avoiding sleep. There was much to do, and none of that was obsessing over a nightmare.

Much to do, yes… she thought. She wasn’t doing enough. Helping cities individually was inefficient and there was nothing guaranteeing that it would stay that way. She needed to talk to the person in charge. Somebody with real power!

Today, her skeleton wails in injustice as she stands at the feet of the imperial palace, dressed in white and pink traditional robes, face carefully made up and jewelry adorning her hair.

She carefully folds her hands behind her back and heads up the stairs. She doesn’t care how long it takes.

Destiny cannot be hurried.