Ethan & Jag Destroy the World

by Maz Maddox

Even the ink-black hair that he kept in a tight bun behind his head looked lazy.

How?

“What is this strange concoction?” “Lemonade!” Sami beamed, his tiny, sharp teeth bright against his green skin. “It’s made from sour fruit and sugar. Do you like it?”

I don't know who is Sami yet, but can I adopt him? Please?

That sounded nightmarish. Ice falling from the sky? It made Jag shiver to imagine such a horrible event.

Hey! I love the snow!

And the humans remained free. For now.

Nice. Thank you.

The small beings were fragile, hornless, and soft. They didn’t even know about the demons that fought for their realm, oblivious to all things except their vanity, electronics, and coffees. Strange, weird little primates, the lot of them.

Heh I'm more a Tea and Chocolate person. But yeah okay.

What does a warrior do if there are no wars to fight? Maybe he needed a pet. A plated grizzly could be entertaining, or perhaps a feral goblin or a cat. All viable options.

But it was no warrior. No rival clan or sworn enemy ready to face him in a battle to the death. It was much worse. It was a human.

Worse? Why, thank you dear.

“What was?” Jag eyed the book in its hands before pinning his gaze back on the pale human. When there was no response from the terrified worm, Jag bellowed, “Answer me!”

Maybe calm down and stop terrorized this poor fellow will you.

Jag narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you read from it?” The human flapped its mouth again and gave a helpless shrug. “For shiggles?” “Use English!” “How do you even KNOW English?” The human waved a hand at Jag, its voice pitched into hysterics. “How is any of this happening?” Useless. The human was bloody useless.

Maybe calm down and talk about it? I don't know... Maybe it will help?

“Hmm. Looks like a basement.” “Wow.” Ethan inched around Jag to study Sami. “Are you a demon too?” Sami bared his needle teeth and hissed, flattening his ears down on his skull like an angry cat. Ethan squeaked in alarm, and Jag lifted his palm. “Easy, Sami. This is Ethan of Clan Montgomery. He’s a scholar of languages.” Sami lifted his ears and closed his mouth. “Oh. Hi, Ethan.”

Jag shook his head. “He’s very bad at greetings.” Sami nodded in understanding, sympathy for the poor human in his eyes.

I mean... Jag is a bad teacher so...

Jag exhaled, understanding. “So you need me to slaughter him.” “No!” “Flay him?” Sami offered. “Disembowel him? Oh, Master, you can break in your new bone extracting knife!” Jag pondered, tapping his chin. “Could you bring that to me through the rift?” Sami nodded quickly, clearly happy to help.

“Jealous ... that you have skin and he doesn’t?” Sami asked, confused. “No, I think he means jealous that Ethan still has eyes,” Jag corrected. “Oh my God.” Ethan placed his hands together and inhaled slowly.

Omg

“I’m not popular with the guys, no.” Ethan rubbed at his neck, emerald eyes downcast.

Baaaabe

“So you are attracted to demons with horns who like sex?” “Oh, man, it’s getting so late!” Ethan hurled the bowl into the sink, stretching tall with a yawn. “We have a big day tomorrow, so I’m going to turn in. I’ll show you to the guest room where you can sleep. You’re probably so tired from being torn across realms, right? Ha-ha! What a day!”

“Sorry about the creepy dolls. But they probably don’t freak you out, huh?” Jag shook his head but narrowed his eyes at the doll in the pink, frilly dress; it was staring at him. He hated that one the most.

The Great Demon Baking Show

“Good morning.” Ethan turned with a smile, his eyes widening for a moment. “Your hair.” Jag gathered his beloved hair into his hands and scowled. “What about my hair?” “It’s pretty.” Ethan’s face paled before flushing red, his eyes bugging out. “I mean manly! Manly. Good. Manly, good hair.” Jag pointed. “Your pan is on fire.”

Four, humans were not scared of snow, and they should be.

Sprinkles coated the workspace, mocking Jag with how badly they stuck to everything except his cookies. The audacity of the tiny sugar flakes made his blood boil.

“Trees?” Jag glanced between Ethan and his work. “Aren’t they spears?” “Sure. They can be spears.” Ethan nodded slowly. “Glittery, bloody spears. And that gingerbread man is …” “Decapitated.” “Naturally.” Ethan put his hands on his hips. “The piping on the pentagram ornaments is really good.” Jag beamed.

The rougher fabric was a pair of pants in a dark blue shade. They fit, though they limited his range of motion. How in hell did humans fight in these? They were tight against his backside in a way that would make kicking impossible.

Jag’s blood ran cold in his veins, terror gripping him so tightly his muscles froze. Snow. “By Satan,” he hissed through his teeth. “We’re going to die.”

Maybe not.

Jag surged forward and wrapped his arm around Ethan’s middle, pulling him back against him before he could stroll into the danger. Ethan yelped, rebalancing the goods in his arms while he leaned back into Jag, the puffy jacket a cloud between them. “You fool! Do you not see the danger outside?!”

It's just snow. It's cold but not so dangerous. (Except maybe for Demons...)

“Everywhere!” Jag snarled at the snow. “It will bury you alive in a flash. Frozen to the earth!” Ethan’s brows rose slowly as he turned to look at Jag. “Are ... you talking about the snow?” “Yes!” Jag squeezed him close. “You almost walked out into it!”

Just like the speakers in the kitchen, the car also played the same jingles and odd songs about possessed snow creatures, grandmothers being trampled by rogue deer, and running for one's life in a sleigh through the snow. If Jag wasn’t aware this holiday had roots in human religion, he would swear it was a demon-based celebration. Those all seemed like ideas his kin would come up with.

He paused and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “You know, I didn’t think about this, but since you’re a new face, they’ll probably want to ask you to talk about yourself and ask how we met.” “That’s inconvenient.” “A little bit.” Ethan worried his bottom lip, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “How do humans usually meet?”

“I would not buy you coffee as an offering of courtship.” Jag snarled. “I would slay a chaos boar and bring you its tusks or wrestle a sulphur serpent to submission and rip the fangs from its skull to lay at your feet.” Ethan was silent a moment before he finally managed, “Thank you?”

Nice

He snarled at a waving Santa that seemed trapped inside of a dome. It was not pleasant.

The optimism Jag had felt at seeing the holiday skeletons was melting with the presence of magic, and he only hoped the witch hadn’t mastered anything beyond the simple ward. Otherwise, it was going to be a very long night.

“Hi, Jag.” She slid her eyes to Ethan and gave him a very sly look. “Ethan didn’t mention he was bringing a date. I dig the sweater. Come in, come in. It’s fucking cold and we need to scare your date.”

Okay I like her

Jag stared since nothing the witch said made any sense. How could a drink be of a certain age or lack sexual experience? Did he even want a drink that could potentially have sex? Satan below, what the hell would that even taste like?

Jag paused mid-drink. This had not been discussed previously. He most definitely could not tell a house full of humans that he was a demon warrior whose clan had plans to conquer Earth and enslave all of humanity. It would likely not go over well.

Yeah no shit

“Coffee.” Jag winced. “I work with coffee.” “He’s a barista.” Ethan stumbled into the conversation after him. “That’s actually how we met.” “Yes.” Jag nodded. “That is all true and correct.”

Jag didn’t answer because he wasn’t sure what to say. Ethan was very nice. He was handsome and cooked delicious food. His smile was as bright as the midday sun and warm like the lakes of fire back home. Clearly he was wild, as the leopard-paint story proved, and Jag was aware that he still had so much to learn about the man.

Sami did this little musical hum he did when he was thinking. “I would say that a Hell warrior charged with fighting to rule over the human realm would have nothing to prove to anyone but himself. Especially those who wear his clan’s armor and have victories coated in the blood of his enemies. Why, I would wager that a demon like that could have whatever he wanted in his life. Even if it is nice.”

“W-what the hell is that?” Ethan panted, pointing at the vase from across the kitchen. “Hydra lilies.” Jag played with the hem of his sweater. “You don’t like them?” “Hydra lilies?” Ethan swung his head from Jag to the lilies, then back to Jag. “Why would you bring monsters into the house?”

I love a Shy Jag !

“Spider? Jesus, Jag.” Ethan chuckled. “I don’t want to know.” “It was a long time ago and I was young.” Ethan wiggled one arm free to give Jag’s chest a pat. “We’ve all been there.”

Jag hated flowers. His last attempt at securing worthy flowers for Ethan had marvelous outcomes when it came to the bedroom, but the next morning was a different story. Half of Ethan’s table had been consumed, and one of the flowers spit acid on a painting of a horse. Sami had to take them back, and new furniture had to be obtained.

Human holidays, Jag had decided, were mostly an excuse to eat and drink and forget about life for a while. It wasn’t grand or a testament to their might or fighting abilities like the festivities back home. But it was nice. Mainly because Ethan liked them. And Jag liked Ethan.

“We don’t celebrate holidays the same as humans.” “What do you do?” Ethan flicked through the pictures, much less enthusiastically than before. “Our holidays are either battles or orgies.” Ethan blinked, staring a moment. “That’s it?”

For example, Jag insisted that proper gifts should be given outside of clumps of dirt and processed sugar and had brought more than one skull home. The first one was a bull skull because Jag was very impressed with the horns that grew out of the same meat they consumed for burgers. A well-stacked, medium-rare burger was Jag’s favorite thing, so finding out that the source of his delight had horns was fantastic.

Ethan wanted to nip that in the bud fast before Jag showed up proudly holding a rhino skull, and Ethan would have to murder him for the honor of all endangered species. As it was, Ethan had nine skulls, one per month, that were placed with care on his dresser in the bedroom that ran the gamut of sizes. Jag was very proud of them. Ethan prayed no one ever saw in his bedroom.

Jag was hungry. All the time. For Ethan. And he never allowed them to do the same thing more than once, unless it was something Ethan wanted. It was wonderful, and intimidating, and thrilling, and intimidating. Jag had centuries of sexcapades logged away with various other demons and whatever else lived in his realm.

So yeah. Not quite Champion of the Blood Wars-level notches in his belt. But it was getting there. He was getting his notches. A lot. Like, a whole lot. Daily. All over the house. And once in an IKEA parking lot—but they had a sale, and Ethan was really excited about his new shelf.

“What the hell!” Ethan covered his mouth, nearly gagging at the sight of tiny frogs raining from the sky. “Jag, what the hell?!” “What?” Jag peered outside, his voice way too casual. “Is this not common?” “Raining frogs? No!” Ethan peered up at the calming storm, the green clouds starting to ease back to a normal gray. “Why would you think this is normal?”

There had to be a scientific and logical explanation as to why buckets of Kermit’s family members were now hanging out in his backyard. He just wasn’t sure where to start.

“I don’t believe they will stop your car.” Jag waited by the open garage. “They seem to be very small and frail. Your wheels will roll over them.” “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to avoid,” Ethan called back, guiding a bouncing creature back into the grass. “I don’t want to murder a bunch of little frogs.”

Towering figures of metal, cloth, and plastic crafted to resemble various human concepts of monsters, death, and even demons flailed around screaming in electronic voices. They were in fact not filled with cheese, as Ethan had previously hinted at. Only common materials and electric wiring. It was the funniest thing Jag had ever seen.

Jag was a man who was not easily impressed. He had conquered feral chaos boars during hunts, slayed countless warriors in battle, bedded all manner of lovers from fellow demons to the creature species that dwelled in his land. Centuries of debauchery and unabashed sexcapades made Jag a seasoned professional of desire and pleasure. But nothing was as sexy as Ethan in fake devil horns.