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Is there a chance, and this is a crack one-shot, do one of Amity Blight accidently calling Charlie Mom? Its setting takes place during episode 3 of Season 1 with the trust exercises.
Also for an idea, instead of Amity being a witch she can be a Cat Sinner who died in the mid 1980s at 16. Just to make it a bit angsty along with some Odalia bashing.
A/N: LOLOL Sure, @beastkeeper91!!! Its a bit shorter than my normal works, but I figured that was okay, because It was only a silly little crack one-shot.
Charlie sighed, adjusting her clipboard as she rallied her little chaotic crew into the lobby.
“Alright!” she beamed with unnatural optimism. “Today’s team-building exercise is about trust!”
Groans erupted.
Charlie clapped. “It’s called a trust fall. One person falls back, the other catches them. Easy!”
That was when Amity Blight, one of the Hotel’s newer residents, felt her fur bristle.
She crossed her arms, tail flicking sharply. “That sounds like something invented by a corporate psychopath.”
“Exactly!” Charlie chirped. “Now partner up!”
It took some aggressive pairing (and a minor explosion), but soon everyone was reluctantly lined up. Amity ended up with Charlie.
Which… wasn’t terrible. Charlie was weirdly kind for someone born of literal Hell royalty. And she hadn’t yelled at Amity once, unlike what she was used to.
Charlie smiled softly. “You ready?”
“No,” Amity deadpanned. “But fine. Let’s get this over with.”
She turned, arms stiff at her sides, muttering, “If you drop me, I’m going to claw your face off.”
Charlie just laughed. “I got you, I promise.”
Amity hesitated for a moment. Then she let herself fall.
And Charlie caught her.
Effortlessly. Gently. Like she did this every day.
And something inside Amity broke.
A quiet, aching little thing she’d buried decades ago.
Her mouth opened before her brain could stop it.
“…Thanks, Mom.”
Silence.
Angel Dust howled with laughter.
Alastor raised an eyebrow.
Vaggie’s jaw hit the floor.
Charlie blinked. “Wait- did you just-?”
Amity’s ears flattened instantly, her face going crimson. “NO. NOPE. I- That wasn’t- Shut up-”
“Oh my-,” Angel wheezed. “She called Charlie Mom.”
“I am flattered,” Charlie said, cheeks pink.
“I hate all of you,” Amity growled, fur puffed up to max embarrassment mode.
She stormed off to the hallway, heart pounding like a jackhammer.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She hadn’t called anyone “Mom” since she was alive. And even then- Odalia Blight didn’t count. That woman had been more CEO than mother.
She still remembered the “trust exercises” her mother used to do.
“Trust me, Amity. You’ll be grateful for this training someday.” “Trust me, darling, this pain is for your own good.”
She'd rather rot in Hell (which, technically, she was doing) than ever call Odalia "Mom" again.
But Charlie? Charlie, with her sunshine-and-rainbows smile and the way she caught Amity without hesitation? That moment cracked something fragile wide open.
She leaned against the wall, breathing hard, tail twitching with frustration and… something like grief.
“Hey.”
Charlie’s voice was soft as she walked up, keeping a gentle distance.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Amity didn't look at her. “It’s fine. I just… glitched.”
“Everyone has glitches,” Charlie said. “I think that was really brave.”
Amity snorted. “Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”
Charlie smiled sadly. “I know what it’s like. To have a mom who doesn’t… feel like a mom.”
That made Amity freeze.
“I just want you to know,” Charlie added, “you’re safe here. No trust fall required.”
And for the first time in a long time, Amity felt something warm bloom behind her ribs.
“Thanks,” she said, quieter this time.
And then:
“But if you ever tell anyone about this, I do have claws.”
Charlie just laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me… kiddo.”
Amity groaned, facepalming. “Don’t push it.”
For the next three days, Amity Blight perfected the ancient art of Avoidance.
She mastered it with the elegance of a cat slipping under a door and the speed of a bat outta Hell.
If anyone walked into a room- she left it.
If Angel Dust started teasing her- she vanished.
If Alastor smiled at her too long- she bolted like someone had lit her tail on fire.
But Charlie?
Somehow, Charlie was the only one Amity didn’t avoid.
Which only made things worse- because now everyone noticed.
Vaggie caught on first.
She cornered Charlie in the kitchen over a burned pot of… Something..? It looked inedible.
“She keeps orbiting you,” Vaggie said, stirring aggressively. “Like a traumatized raccoon. With trust issues.”
Charlie blinked. “She’s just… figuring things out.”
“Yeah, figuring out how to run away like it’s a track meet,” Vaggie muttered.
“She’s trying.”
“She called you Mom, Charlie.”
Charlie smiled faintly. “Yeah. I know.”
Vaggie gave her a look. “Are you okay with that?”
Charlie didn’t answer right away. Then she softly said, “I think she needs someone who doesn’t hurt her just for existing.”
Vaggie’s expression softened. She took over the stirring for Charlie, doing it a little… Less violently than she would have normally.
“Alright. Then we pull her in.”
Charlie tilted her head. “What, like… a redemption intervention?”
Vaggie grinned. “More like forced bonding.”
Amity was tiptoeing down the hallway, tail low, ears back, perfect stealth mode activated-
“AMITY!”
She yelped. Practically jumped out of her own fur.
Charlie was there, all sunshine and way-too-much-energy-for-Hell. Vaggie stood beside her, arms crossed, looking suspiciously like someone who'd just baited a trap.
“Come with us,” Charlie said cheerfully.
Amity narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“No reason!” Charlie lied terribly. “Just… hanging out.”
“Team-building,” Vaggie added. “Again.”
Amity took a slow, suspicious step back. “Is this another trust fall? Because if so, I swear-”
“Nope,” Charlie beamed. “Today’s activity is… redecorating!”
“Decorating?”
“The hotel,” Charlie said brightly. “You live here now. You should make it feel like home.”
Amity looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing.
“…this is a trap.”
“Obviously,” Vaggie said, grabbing her arm.
They ended up in one of the guest lounges, with buckets of paint, mismatched furniture, and an actual beanbag throne Angel Dust had labeled “KING SHIT ONLY.”
Charlie handed Amity a brush. “You pick the color.”
Amity blinked. “What?”
“This room’s yours to redecorate. Do whatever you want.”
Amity hesitated.
This didn’t feel like a punishment. Or a manipulation. Or one of those “trust me, darling” moments Odalia used to weaponize.
It felt… safe. Real. Like her opinion mattered.
“…Purple,” she muttered. “Midnight violet.”
Charlie grinned. “Classy. I like it.”
As they worked- paint splattering, Angel popping in to offer unhelpful interior design advice (“Have you considered GLITTER VOMIT?”)- Amity started to loosen up.
Just a little.
By the end of the day, the room looked… More her. And Amity felt like maybe- maybe- she didn’t have to hide in the shadows forever.
Later that night, after everyone else drifted off to their chaos or beds, Amity lingered in the lounge, curled in a beanbag with a book she'd found in a forgotten corner.
Charlie poked her head in.
“Hey,” she said. “Can I come in?”
Amity nodded without looking up. “Sure, Mom.”
Silence.
She froze.
Charlie blinked.
“…again?” Vaggie called from the hallway.
“IT WAS A SLIP!” Amity shouted, ears flattening, eyes wide.
But Charlie just smiled, soft and warm. “It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”
“…You should. It’s weird.”
“I think,” Charlie said gently, “it means I’m doing something right.”
Amity looked away, swallowing hard.
She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t cry. But she didn’t run either…