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kaylopolis · 5 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Two

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn��t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power…

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

Chapter Two - Breakfast

Content Warning: None (Let me know if I missed any!)

“Coffee anyone?” You call out to the foyer as your feet hit the carpet.

It was early and you had a lot to do today, but there was always time for coffee. Besides, you spent half the night tossing and turning before finally winding down into a few hours of sleep. You were exhausted - not just from the night’s meeting, but the silence of the Hotel was deafening. You usually slept to music, but the record player in your old room didn’t belong to you and so you couldn’t take it when you left.

Angel sat before the old television, Husk standing at his side, his arms crossed before him. Angel lay sprawling across the sofa, dark circles under his eyes. With the type of jobs these two had, you were surprised to see them up so early.

“… isn’t that right Tom?” You recognized Katie Killjoy’s voice echo from the television.

666 News this early in the morning? You joined the cat and spider in the alcove.

“That’s right Katie! Another pile of ashes was discovered in the alley of the Pride Ring this morning as the Shadow has claimed yet another victim! The remains have been identified as Chazwick Thurman, a known member of the Crimson Mafia...”

“Too bad they weren’t your ashes, aye Tom…”

You drowned out the voices of the broadcasters as images of an alleyway in the Entertainment district flash across the screen. The only thing left behind was a bone-shaped belt buckle and a pile of grey.

“Crimson was invited to comment.”

You stiffen.

The screen cut to a cameraman chasing Crimson into a car. “Get that fucking camera out of my fucking face!” He slams the car door and the screen cuts back to the reporters.

Goddamn that almost gave you a heart attack…

“How do yous think they identify ‘em?” Angel motioned to the screen, now turned back to Chaz’s ash’s blowing away in the breeze. “All I see is a bunch o’ dirt.”

“Something Gluttony whipped up I heard,” Husk grumbles. He looks just as exhausted as Angel.

“What would Beelzebub want to do with a bunch o’ murders?” Angel argued.

“Don’t look at me, those are just the rumors!”

“I heard it was a new Voxtek technology,” you chime in. “They have some sort of electronic scanner that can detect soul signatures.”

You were right, of course, but they didn’t know that.

“But he was a Hellborn Native? Do they even have souls? And what was he doing in the Pride Ring anyway?” Angel argued.

You shrugged, “Like Husk said… Only rumors.”

“Seems a little shady if you ask me.” Husk rubs the scruff forming on his chin. “That’s the first Hell Native to have been slain by the Shadow. So far he’s only gone after Sinners. Why change now?”

You weren’t interested in playing conspiracy theorist today. Too much to do. Instead you decided to shift the conversation, “Coffee?”

Angel and Husk look to you.

“It’s the only reason we got up,” Angel answered. “Heard ya’ had a busy morning and didn’t wanna miss ya’.”

The sentiment made your face turn pink. Day two and already you felt some sort of connection forming with the two of them.

You followed them into the kitchen, but froze on the threshold as the sound of soft jazz hit your ears and a jolt of static ran down your spine. There, standing in a frilly apron tied at the waist, serving spoon in hand, was the red demon Alastor. He didn’t look up as he scooped the remaining eggs into the white dish set on the table.

“Good morning fellow Sinners!” The demon sung. Husk and Angel grumbled in response. Not morning people. So, the maniacal demon has a domestic side? What a weird change of pace after literally beating the shit out of someone yesterday and then turning around and pissing off an Overlord.

“Morning, Mr. Alastor,” you mumbled, trying to match his cheerfulness but frankly, you hadn’t had coffee yet and didn’t enjoy talking to anyone before your first steaming cup.

Finally his eyes landed on you, the soft jazz music coming to a small and almost imperceptible skip you would have missed had you not been listening for it. This man gives away so much in his audio alone.

Half-lidded, his eyes dragged over you, from the Mary Jane heels - short as can be, you couldn’t handle anything over an inch - to the red puffy dress that hugged your sides and expanded into layers of black landing just above your knees. The dress was long sleeved, with black lace running across your back, hiding your tattoo perfectly. It came with a matching metal red clip for your hair.

Normally you hated wearing dresses, hated looking girly, but etiquette called for it this morning. You’d be far more comfortable in a pair of trousers and button up collared shirt.

You waited as the invisible radio clicked through a few stations before returning to a soft jazz. “Well, well, look what the spider and cat dragged in. And where is our fine hotel guest off to today?” He returned the pan to the stove before untying the apron at his waist.

Okay, he was acting cordial. So maybe that meant whatever happened yesterday on the cobblestone streets wasn’t him? Or maybe he hadn’t realized it was you who did it? Either way, there was a question mark next to whatever power slapped the shit out of you yesterday - “proceed with caution,” the sticky note next to it read.

“I have a breakfast date…” You start but Angel’s whistling interrupts you.

“Ow! Oooow!” He called, “And who is the lucky Sinner bestowed with the honor of taking your fine ass out today?”

Your cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “My old land lady?” You curled into yourself, feeling eyes on your skin, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck.

“Oh, you like ‘em mature, don’t ya’?” Angel purred. It made you laugh, breaking some of the tension.

“Now, now Angel Dust, one musn’t speak such profanities to a young lady before she’s had her breakfast.” Alastor settled into his chair. Snapping his fingers for a newspaper, he disappeared behind the black and white text. The air around you grew a little colder with his closeness, like the heat was being absorbed by the red demon himself.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Angel shrugged, spooning piles of egg onto his plate. “Hair clip knows I’m good for it.”

“Same thing as yesterday, Husk?” You ask sheepishly, making your way to the Breville in the corner. The coldness wrapped around your legs, as if it was following you across the kitchen.

“That would be great, kiddo,” he rubbed his temples, his chin resting on the table top. Hangover?

You felt the bubbles in your chest die down as you got to work, filling the portafilter with beans and finding a white espresso cup in the cupboard.

“Angel?” You called over your shoulder. You feigned a small kick at the air around your ankles, wishing for whatever invisible coldness to leave you alone. It didn’t.

“A vanilla soy latte if ya’ could be so kind, sweet cheeks,” he asked, mouthful of food. You heard the door swing open as Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty’s voices filled the air.

I thought the tiny maid normally cooked the meals?

Rummaging through the cupboards you couldn’t find any syrups for his request - only a chai tea blend. You apologized but made a mental note to pick up some supplies today.

Passing him his soy latte - complete with a spider on top - you got to work on everyone else’s orders before finally turning to Alastor.

Your palms instantly started to sweat. What was it about this demon that made you so nervous?

“Can I get you anything Mr. Alastor?” Was your voice shaky? Did you seem nervous?

The top part of the newspaper folded down to reveal his face. His smile was strained despite the sweet jazz playing over his radio. His radio? Was that correct?

“Alastor’, darling, and a hot cup of joe would be wonderful,” his eyes lingered on you a little too long before you finally nodded.

Swallowing, you turned back to the Breville and began grinding the beans. You debated making a second cup for yourself, you did still have thirty minutes before you needed to go, but didn’t necessarily wanna smudge your red lipstick before you left. It’ll give you something for your hands to do, to calm the nerves that is, and to warm your bones - the coldness eliciting goosebumps across your legs.

Making two cups of coffee, one in Alastor’s “Oh, Deer!” mug - which made you chuckle - you paused, an idea forming in your mind. You didn’t have many ingredients to work with, but you did have one thing. Opening the chai you took a sniff - fresh. You had a feeling, and it was a risk, but you decided to jump off that cliff anyway. Using a strainer you let a few leaves steep in his cup, before swirling it around and straining it out.

Dropping the mug before him, you finally noticed the extra chair that had been added to the table - right next to him. When did that get there? Nifty sat to your right with Angel right across from you. You tried to catch Angel’s attention, to thank him for adding the extra seat, but he didn’t notice you as he was too busy licking the foam from his lips while sending Husk a sexual retort. Meanwhile, Nifty was stabbing away at her plate, too busy to notice your sudden hesitation.

Was it because of Alastor?

Your mind flits back to the radio broadcast last night and Alastor’s grand display?-battle?-sing a-long?-with the media demon Vox. Seems he had a chance to go big at one point but never really made it. You wondered what happened?

“I don’t bite, darling,” Alastor snapped and his newspaper disappeared. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his knees before taking a sip of his mug. His eyes lit up, his smile curling at the edge. You held your breath as you waited for his reaction.

“Please, take a seat,” the chair before you slid back without a touch, a puddle of shadow beneath it shifting ever so slightly.

He took another sip, his shoulders dropping an inch. You took that as a sign that he enjoyed your coffee concoction and wasn’t going to rip your head off for changing his request.

Rejoining the table, you swore the air around your legs warmed slightly.

“Hey, Hair clip, I gotta know something,” Angel chimed across the table, his belly finally full. “What’s a sweet lil’ thing like you gotta do to get yourself down ‘ere?”

“Angel!” Charlie protested.

“Wha’? Come on we was all thinkin’ it.” He crossed his many arms.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Charlie’s eyes twinkled.

“Uhm, no it’s okay,” your hands clench and unclench around the mug, letting the heat soothe your fingers, resisting the urge to rub your neck. “I had the unfortunate circumstances of finding myself at the center of a web of…” you searched for the right word, “disappearances.” Your lips curled into a smile you couldn’t help but form. You tried to hide it by siping your cup.

Lying was all too easy these days.

“Oh, shit.” Angel jumped in his seat.

“Wait, are you telling us you killed people?” Husk breathes.

“Stab, stab, stab,” Nifty drove her knife into her toast over and over. Vaggie reached over and carefully pulled the needle from her fingers.

How much do you reveal about this backstory now? If you reveal too much it’ll appear as if you have nothing to hide, but chatty Sinners were suspicious Sinners. Give them just a nugget to chew on for now.

“Technically, the cases were never solved. While I was alive anyway…” You mumbled into your cup, conscious of your lipstick on the rim.

Not denial but not confirmation, either.

“So, you didn’t kill people?” Husk clarifies.

“I didn’t say that…” You mumble into the steam.

The beans aren’t bad, but the undercut of chocolate wasn’t your favorite. Add that to the shopping list for today.

So much to do before tomorrow…

“So, then you did?” Angel asks.

You didn’t answer. This conversation was going in circles.

“Might we have heard of you and your endeavors topside, Ms. Thestral?” Alastor’s forearms were suddenly on the table, his presence leaning into you.

You felt something slip past your ankles, like a small breeze. You crossed your legs instinctively.

There’s power in a name down here in Hell. Knowing who people were before gives others leverage, gives them blackmail to use against another. They could threaten your family still alive up top. They could use it to find others who have died but knew you from before for information. The possibilities are endless.

Alastor knows this. It’s an unspoken rule. It’s why Angel goes by Angel or Husk goes by Husk. He knows you’d never give any exact details leading to who you were and what you did, so he’s decided to toy with you. Much like Sir Pentious from yesterday.

Let him eat his own medicine then.

“Might we have heard of you and yours, Mr. Alastor?” You leaned into him, your gaze never wavering from his face. A fleeting flash of amusement so swift had you blinked you would have missed it.

The air was sucked out of the room in one collective gasp as the Hotel Natives waited for his response.

Geez, were they all afraid of this guy or…? You’d hate to see what they’d do in the presence of an Overlord.

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I believe you and I are going to get along quite well, darling.” With a snap of his fingers the newspaper reappears, his face disappearing before you got a chance to study it.

The tension in the room drops as everyone lets out their breath.

You were really going to have to figure out what you were going to do with this Alastor fellow. Perhaps your little outing today would shed light on the subject.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Vaggie is up and out of her seat before you have a chance to register what’s going on. More bangs - coming from the front door. Someone was knocking? Next thing you know, everyone is up and out of their seats and in the foyer - except for Alastor, who decides to take his time.

Throwing open the door, Vaggie comes face to face with Sir Pentious. “Hello, my dear… Ah!”

Vaggie plants a facer right into his nose before pulling her spear from the Void. The snake demon collapses at her feet, begging for mercy.

“Oh, hello again!” Charlie has inserted herself into the situation. This ought to be interesting. You had to admit, you’ve taken some pretty boring jobs before, but the people here were so fun to watch, it made the slow progress worth it.

Sir Pentious mentions something about redemption, which is exactly the thing to say to the Princess Morningstar. The next thing you know she’s practically dragging him inside.

Angel jumps in to point out the obvious but Vaggie eventually crumbles under Charlie’s begging.

The gears in your mind turn as they talk, the Princess showing him the foyer, noting how convenient this turn of events just so happened to be.

Sir Pentious did not just come here on accident - especially after yesterday. Maybe another plan of attack on Alastor? He did catch the red demon off guard, perhaps he was trying again with the same “element of surprise” tactic.

Regardless, Charlie was dotting on the poor demon like he was a small child in need of shepherding. Was she clueless to the situation or just a bleeding heart hopeful?

Either way, the mosquito has returned.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Angel’s mood change. From general intrigue to irritation and… was that guilt you were smelling as Charlie showed the snake about? No - self-loathing. They always smelled so similar, it was easy to get the two confused.

Great now Nifty is fawning over the serpent. The tiny demon is a fucked up enigma that you had no intention of figuring out.

“This is Thestral. Our most recent guest!” Charlie escorts him before you. You shake the snake demon’s hand - gross, he’s slimy.

Static fills your ears, making your hair stand on end as you shake the demon’s hand.

“And over here is… Oh! Uh, Alastor!” Charlie squeaks. “Our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest, Sir Pentious… Hehe…”

You feel Alastor’s eyes on the back of your head before he turns to the snake demon. The serpent cowered before the well-dressed Joe, the room filling with the scent of oranges and mint: fear.

“Ah, yes! You’re the one who ruined my coat!” The demon’s eyes begin to glow, their eerie red light impregnating the room with their aura. “I definitely remember you now.”

Was that irritation you sensed? You watched his shoulders as the snake demon attempted to apologize, noting their stiffness despite his relaxed demeanor in the kitchen.

This guy had a lot of pent up aggression. He carried himself like a clogged overflowing sink someone left the plug in too long. The interaction yesterday with the Vees did nothing to quell his attitude despite the flux he sent the media demon into. The entire grid shut down after you joined Husk at the bar - cellphones, televisions, electricity. It was a blackout for a few hours before his system finally reset. Guess Vox has more of a hold on Pentagram City than you knew.

Sir Pentious hands Alastor the small piece of fabric he ripped from him yesterday.

“Ah-Ho!” The Radio Demon sings. “Not many people have been able to take even this much off me, it must have meant quite a lot to you.”

You snort into your hand, catching a side glance from the Radio Demon.

The fabric spontaneously combusts into green flame.

What!? He has access to Hellfire? You try to not let the shock show on your face but he catches it regardless.

The clock chimes 8 on the wall.

Shit, you were going to be late!

Shoving your hands into the pockets sewn into the dress, you double check that you did indeed grab your wallet before heading for the door. “I’m sorry Charlie, but I have to go now!”

“Oh, yes! Don’t forget, one o’clock!” She waves after you.

The cold sensation slips from your ankles, making you shutter as you head for the front, but before you have a chance to pull the door open, Husk steps into your path. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, looking over your shoulder at something. “Stop by the bar later, wouldya?”

His tone was far more serious than one would expect for a casual hangout invitation.

“Sure, Husk,” you nod, worried that something was wrong.

“Stay safe out there,” he pats your shoulder before heading back to the bar, his eyes downcast as he passes the red demon and Princess now entranced in their own conversation.

You swear you see Alastor’s shadow move, like it was waving goodbye…

Anyway… That was… weird, but good! Making progress with Husk and an opportunity to hear some gossip from the grumpy bartender.

You headed out into the cobblestone streets with a new pep in your step and a smile on your face.

____________________________________

“Thanks, Susan,” you smiled at the potted daisy in your hand. It was half dead but so was she.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she pinched your cheeks as she screamed. She was deaf, everything she said was in a scream.

“I’ll see you next week!” You smiled, slowly inching away. “With the lemon finger sandwiches this time!”

She laughs as you parted ways, flipping her boa over her shoulder as she shuffled.

You loved the lady, she gave you a room when you had nowhere else to go. After you moved out you thought it would be the end of breakfasts with the old crazy lady, but she begged for tea and snacks once a week in the park. She was lonely - even though she was to blame for her loneliness. She did eat her third husband and all… So, you bought her breakfast and tea once a week. It was the least you could do after everything she has done for you.

You rounded the Plaza and headed for the doors of Rosie’s Emporium but your stride came to a crashing halt as static filled your ears.

“Don’t be a stranger, Alastor!” Rosie’s voice carried to the front of the store.

Fuck!

Flattening against the other half of the double doors, and hiding your face against the wall, you prayed he would walk right past you and not notice your anxiety-riddled form in the doorway. But, alas, you were never that lucky.

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Oh!” The Radio Demon stopped half stride out the door, his eyes immediately finding yours. The edges of his lips curled far past what you thought possible for his face. His radio faltered just a moment before he addressed you. “Why, hello there.”

Red bloomed across your cheeks as you came face to face with him. He tipped an eyebrow up, unleashing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You searched for something to say but words seemed just out of reach.

What was wrong with you! Why did this demon have so much sway over your emotions! Get yourself together. Why…

Rosie cleared her throat, causing you to jump. She was quiet when she was being sneaky. “And what do we have here?” Her charming New York accent was doing nothing to qualm the nerves in your belly.

“Thestral, this is Rosie. The most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord this side of the Pentagram!” Trumpets echoed through his radio.

You tried hard not to roll your eyes.

“Oh! Always a charmer,” Rosie smiled wide, her razor sharp teeth on display.

“And Rosie,” his arm wraps around your lower back, pushing you closer to the man-eating Overlord. That cold sensation wraps around your legs again, making you shiver. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to…”

“Actually,” you interrupt, trying to keep the bite from your voice. Stepping out of Alastor’s grip, the cold follows you. What made him think he could just touch you like that!? “We’ve met.”

A flash of irritation crosses Alastor’s eyes before being replaced with his mask.

“Oh! What a regal surprise!” Rosie drags you inside, taking the dead potted plant from you. “You’re early!” She goes for a tray of fingers. “Can I offer you something to eat?”

“I just ate actually,” an uncomfortable laugh escapes your lips.

You didn’t detest cannibalism - I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good shoulder steak? - it was the way Alastor was looking at you that was setting those butterflies in a flurry. It was a look of… suspicion? You sniffed, but smelled nothing. Hmm, interesting.

“You two know each other?” Alastor twirled his cane, clutching it behind his back. His smile was strained.

Shit.

“Oh, Thestral and I go way back!” She spun, placing the finger food aside before clamping both her hands atop your shoulders. You were trapped. “Practically fell on top of me when she died!”

Alastor’s eyes light up with the addition of the new information. “Did she now?”

You stop him from asking anymore questions with an awkward laugh. “Rosie, don’t you have to take my measurements?”

“Oh, my stars! You’re here for a dress!” Her eyes sparkle. Cupping your cheeks, she pulls your face to hers. “Finally! This one was getting a little old,” she thumbs a hole in your sleeve you were desperately trying to hide. You frown.

You didn’t have money to burn often, but when you did you let Rosie dress you up as she pleased. She never wanted money from you, in fact she hated that you offered, but it didn’t feel right to just take her creations without giving her something in return.

“Oh, don’t fret, doll! You’re still a tomato! Don’t you think so, Alastor?” She pinched your cheeks, turning your face to the red demon in his newly fashioned pin-striped suit.

You met his eyes, he was clearly loving the embarrassment Rosie was showering you with.

“As cute as a bug’s ear,” he smiled, his eyebrows relaxing in amusement.

God, did this man do anything other than fucking smile?

Your face reddened under his direct gaze, its burn bleeding into the cold of Rosie’s fingers. You didn’t like being dotted on and you sure as Hell didn’t like being showed off like this.

Wait… what did he say? Did he call you cute? The Radio Demon called you cute.

“Oh!” Rosie finally releases you. You rub your cheeks to lessen the sting from her pinches. “Ya-know, Alastor. I got a premo-connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickin’s for a deal to be made, my friend!”

A deal? Rosie didn’t just throw people a bone out of pity. She didn’t freely offer up anything to anyone unless she respected them. Rosie - the Rosie - respected… him? The Radio Demon was turning out to be a bigger fish than expected. Still, he remained a mystery. God it was irritating.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must be off. So much to do at the Hotel!” He sung, his radio clicking on a smooth jazz. He picked at invisible lint on his shoulder before his half-lidded eyes met yours. “I‘ll see you this afternoon, darling.” His voice purred, sending butterflies in a flurry within you. With a small bow he slipped out the front door and into Cannibal Plaza taking your breath with him.

You spun as the door shut, swearing you saw a… shadow follow him?

Fuck, you needed to figure this guy out fast, but that was why you were here wasn’t it? Rosie knew all the best gossip in Pentagram City, she was the ideal source to go to for information on Alastor without raising suspicion at the Hotel. Couldn’t let any of the Natives think you too interested in the Radio Demon.

“You’re late.”

You spun to face Rosie, a hand on her hip, one eyebrow sky high in suspicion.

Shaking off the conflicting emotions stirring within you, you met her energy, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It appears you were entertained in my absence.”

“Don’t start with the attitude, young lady.” She waved a finger at you as she led you into the parlor.

A set of tea was waiting, half drunk and already cold - tea which was supposed to be for you had you been on time.

“Susan was extra talkative this morning,” you huffed, taking the chair across from her usual spot. “Seems she missed me.”

The Overlord began tidying up the tray, but as you watched her collect the cups, you couldn’t help but wonder something. “Was that planned?” You huffed.

She gave you a look as if you had asked a stupid question.

“Why?” You grommeled, shrinking into the chair.

“Posture!” She waved her finger at you. You rolled your eyes but obeyed. “It appears Alastor is back from his sabbatical - which I was only made aware of yesterday when he came in here with a torn suit. I asked you here to create a pho-run-in with the Overlord so that you might be aware of his presence, considering the events of tomorrow.” She placed the tray on the side counter.

“Wait…” Your ears perked up. Did you hear her correctly? You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t get a chance to learn of his endeavors with the Hotel until this morning. He made quite a stir yesterday, and when Alastor is in a bad mood you tend to keep conversation short.” She snapped her fingers and a new tray appeared - tea steaming and ready to be served.

Every nerve in your body was screaming at you. “Rosie, did you…”

“Now, come to find my surprise when I learned that he had not just already met you, but already had suspicions of your power. He asked questions, Thestral, questions about you, and I…”

“Oh my God, Rosie!” You jumped to your feet, arms clenched at your sides.

“What has gotten into you?” She stopped mid pour, a hand feigning surprise on her chest.

“Did you just say that Alastor is an Overlord?” Your heart was beating at a million miles an hour now.

Taking a breath, the woman who had become like a mother to you finished pouring your cup before she set the tea kettle back onto the tray. She took her cup and plate in hand before finally answering your question. “Yes.”

You stopped breathing completely. “Fuck,” you mumbled before slowly melting back into the chair.

Oh my God, how could you be so stupid! Of course the Radio Demon was more powerful than you could ever have imagined. Of course the Radio Demon was an Overlord. Of course an OVERLORD had to be the Hotel manager. Of course an OVERLORD had to sleep across the hall from you! All the planning you put together, all the research, all the preparation and now you had to deal with this!

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Rosie sipped her tea - jasmine, your favorite.

Alastor had beef with the Vees. He pissed off Vox to the point that it overloaded his circuits and shut the entire grid down. No wonder you didn’t see him in the commercial. What Overlord would want one of his biggest enemies being able to capture him using his greatest asset of surveillance - a camera.

Sir Pentious came to challenge Alastor your very first day at the Hotel because he had heard that Alastor was back! Which meant the Hotel was now a target! Which made you a target! Alastor’s mere presence was attracting attention - attention you didn’t want and would inevitably get in the way of your plans!

You had always been a behind the scenes type of person. Operating behind a mask was your specialty. Merely shedding the cloak was filling you to the brim with anxiety and now you had to deal with this!

No! No! No! No!

“Thestral you’re burning my couch,” Rosie scolded.

Looking down, blue flames licked the seat’s plush arm rest. Silently cursing, you pulled the power back in and suffocated it, leaving behind a bit of blackened fabric.

“This is going to be a problem,” you spat through gritted teeth.

Now you knew why everyone was so afraid of him.

“Why are you so surprised? I thought you knew by the way you were acting when you ran into him in my parlour. Actually, now that I think about it, you looked more smitten than… Huh!” Rosie gasped, her teeth growing into a smile. “Are you sweet on him?”

Your jaw dropped. “What? No!”

That was completely illogical! You, sweet on an Overlord!? Preposterous!

“My dear, you’re blushing!” She practically sang.

Your hands flew to your cheeks so fast you almost slapped yourself. “Just… What… I… Are you going to take my measurements or not?”

Rosie laughed before pulling out a measuring tape. “Oh, I am going to dress you to the nines, tomato!” She gave you a knowing smile as she shepherded you to the block before a set of mirrors.

“Rosie, I do not like the Radio Demon. If anything he poses a problem. A really big problem.” You stepped onto the block as she circled you like a vulture.

“I am pulling out all the stops for you! Two new dresses, maybe a couple pair of those trousers you adore so much, and definitely a few ideas for a night out on the town. Just in case.” She winks at you in the mirror. “And new shoes too! Those little heels are done for.”

“Rosie… Just..” You sank your face in your hands.

She stopped immediately. “What’s wrong, darling? Talk to Auntie Rosie.”

Running your hands through your hair, you took a deep breath, releasing as much anxiety as you could with it.

Things were a lot easier when you operated in the shadows.

You faked a small smile before pulling the money clip from your pocket, trying to turn the conversation to something you could handle. “At least let me pay you this time.”

Rosie’s face turned into one of determination and pride. “You got it back from Crim, didn’t ya’?”

You pulled your other hand from your pocket to reveal the black calling card. “Indeed I did.”

_______________________________________

You took your time heading to the Entertainment District, letting Rosie’s words simmer within your brain.

The Radio Demon was an Overlord and a mysterious one at that. He disappeared seven years ago, only to magically reappear recently under the guise of Charlie’s Hotel Manager.

Funny how Lilith also disappeared seven years ago. Funny how this Extermination just so happens to be a special one.

But before Alastor took his paid time off, it seems he was quite the shit around here. That at least explains the radio broadcasts: the incessant screaming of souls Alastor plays at whim. You had to admire that part. The man had class, he had art, he had theatrics. You just killed and walked away, not wanting the media spotlight, but Alastor? He thrived off of it. He was a walking entertainment broadcast dependent upon the attention of others.

God, and his ego? You didn’t even want to start down that road. No wonder he got so pissy when you didn’t cower before him like thousands of others do. Fuck, the only one not afraid of him is Princess Morningstar - not because she considers herself more powerful than him but because she is naive. Alastor would kill her in a heartbeat if it meant accomplishing his goals.

Speaking of, what were his goals? Surely he didn’t wish to climb the ladder of hotel management. Alastor wasn’t an assistant type of guy. He had to be the boss. So whatever plan he has, playing make believe with the Princess has put him in a superior position despite what it appears.

Was that it then? Was taking down Charlie his endgame? But why? Charlie doesn’t rule, she doesn’t utilize her power, she doesn’t do anything. She just kind of hangs out with Vaggie and cleans up chemical spills and hugs trees and shit. She wasn’t someone all powerful to target and take down - not like Lilith.

Wait. Fuck. Lilith.

That’s what this is about. He disappeared seven years ago with Lilith and he’s back now because of Lilith.

So get to Charlie to get to Lilith, but what does Alastor want with Lilith?

So entranced in thought you finally realized you were heading in the complete wrong direction and had stumbled into a part of town you had never been.

A window of television screens suddenly shifts to a bright yellow light. “Voxtech Angelic Security coming soon!” The ad chimes along with the new Voxtech logo sprouting a pair of wings.

That was going to prove a problem for your late night activities. Not that anyone has ever really been able to capture you on camera before. You're a mass of black smoke when you fly and a dark hooded figure with glowing yellow eyes when you weren’t. Hell, the entirety of Pentagram City thought you were a dude. A little sexist but whatever…

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath before turning down an alley you were hoping was a short cut.

“That fucking, fuck!” Vox comes flying out of a side door, trying desperately to tie his bow tie which has now become a knot around his neck.

You would have hid, you would have turned around and ran the moment you saw him, had he not run right into you.

Vox’s back slams into your shoulder, knocking you to the ground. The media demon turns on you, his one eye glowing red, a look of pure wrath flashing across his screen.

“Watch it!” He bites.

You give him an exasperated look before climbing to your feet. Great, now this dress is truly ruined! Your right hip is covered in black dirt, and there’s a tear along the hem. Rosie is going to kill you.

“You ran into me,” you brush your skirt. You didn’t snap at him, you simply stated the truth.

The demon is taken aback. How dare you speak to him like that! Did you not know who he is?

“You want to repeat that again you, little…” He stops mid sentence, his attention drawn to the hand you were extending him. “What are you doing?”

You gesture to the bow tie, nonchalantly, “I had a lot of brothers growing up. I got good at tying ties and bow ties and you look like you could use some help.” You nod to his left thumb, thoroughly stuck in the knot.

He raises an eyebrow in confusion, staring at you as if you had just sprouted a second head. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes and begin unraveling the silk around his neck. The demon stiffens beneath your touch, freezing in place. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head as you worked.

It was a simple red bow tie, the slipperiness of the fabric made it difficult to get the ends even, but a few twists and you had it back to normal. You even closed the distance, folding the band around his neck beneath the collar of his shirt.

He doesn’t have that aura of static like Alastor does nor that sense of coldness which hangs about his shadow. Really you expected more similarities between the two, given that they were practically each other’s counterparts. But here, now, you didn’t get the same feelings being around Vox like you did the Radio Demon. Actually it was lack thereof.

It was probably just Vox’s lack of power. Really and truthfully you meant it when you said Vox is only ⅓ of an Overlord. Without the other Vees, he isn’t a threat. Alastor? That man was full power in only one suit.

Wait… why were you so focused on comparing him to Alastor right now?

“There,” you slapped your hands against your thighs. “Ta-da!” You gave him a show of jazz hands before continuing down the alleyway. A shiver runs down your spine as you could feel his gaze still on your form. God, he’s such a creep.

“Hey! Wait!” The media demon calls after you.

You roll your eyes before spinning, cursing under your breath.

The look on Vox’s face made you pause. Was that…? You sniffed. Curiosity? No, that wasn’t quite right. You sniffed again, not able to place the emotion. You’ve never really smelled anything like it before.

The demon clears his throat, suddenly self conscious. “Can I at least offer you a ride to wherever you’re going… as a thank you?” He crosses his arms in front of him, taking a few slow steps in your direction.

Fuck that. The last thing you wanted was Vox to know anything about you. Anything at all.

“No, thanks,” you spin again and…

“Can I at least know your name?” He tries again.

Ugh!

“Why?” You bite, your hands finding your hips.

The demon looks confused before his screen flashes back to a neutral face. He smiles and it’s far softer than you expected, “I just want to know the name of my savior.” He chuckles. “I got a little mixed up back there and am grateful for your services in fixing the situation.”

Okay… You’ve never actually seen Vox be nice before. This was weird.

Your eyes trail his form from his shoes to the broken antenna atop his head. You’ve never actually seen the media demon in person, but he cleans up well. The suit was nice but the hat was a little corny. No one wears top hats anymore. Also, his head is a flat television screen, how does that thing even stay up there?

“Uh, no.”

He blinks. “No?”

“Yeah, no.” You repeat. Was he dumb?

He scoffs, “do you know who I am?”

You spin, not daring to stop this time, “yup!” You waved to him over your shoulder, not looking back. “Bye!”

______________________________________

Vox sprints through the door, the wood vibrating off its hinges.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Velvette snaps from her place on the couch.

“I don’t know…” The media demon slams his hands against his desk, a look of madness on his face as his one eye blinks red. “I didn’t get her name…” He whispers to himself.

“Who?” Velvette smacks her lips against a lollipop, a loud ‘pop!’ with each suck.

“The most beautiful creature in Hell…”

Link to Chapter Three!

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

#alastor smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #hazbin #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader smut #smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #reader insert #alastor shadow

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coochiequeens · 5 months ago

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Good news for my same sex attracted sisters.

Lesbian dating app to use facial recognition to exclude trans women from matching with biological females

By SANCHEZ MANNING and SUE REID

PUBLISHED: 19:03 EDT, 1 June 2024

The first dating app for lesbians is set to launch – using sex-recognition technology to exclude trans women and ensure only biological females can sign up.

It is the brainchild of feminist campaigner Jenny Watson, who says there are currently no dating apps which cater purely for women who want same-sex relationships.

The current crop of dating apps, she says, are increasingly being used by males who identify as female and who say they too are lesbian.

L'App will use facial recognition technology to verify a person as a biological female.

Ms Watson said would-be users will have to go through a process when they sign up where the app scans their face via their smartphone.

It is the brainchild of feminist campaigner Jenny Watson (pictured), who says there are currently no dating apps which cater purely for women who want same-sex relationships

The software, which Ms Watson claims is 99 per cent accurate, analyses features including bone structure, the shape and positioning of an individual's eyes, eyebrows and nose shape or size. It will also be able to detect if a person is presenting a live image rather than just putting a photo of a woman up to the camera by detecting movement, blinking motions and heat emissions.

Tests have revealed that if someone tries to disguise themselves as a woman by putting on a wig or make-up, the technology will spot the deception.

Ms Watson, 32, a town planner, told The Mail on Sunday: 'There is no female-only dating apps at the moment. Lesbians need an app which they can use without being messaged by trans-identifying males.'

She said L'App had also been developed in response to many lesbians finding that they were being banned from existing apps if they dared to specify that they wanted to date only natal females. Speaking about her own personal experience, she said: 'Any time I've joined a lesbian dating app or any other dating app myself, I get banned.

'To avoid trans-identified males, I will always write a little blurb, nothing disrespectful, saying my preference is for women and please respect my boundaries.

'And every time I do that I get banned. On one app I was asked to put down my most controversial opinion, so I wrote that J. K. Rowling was right and was banned for that. It's insane.'

Ms Watson has previously campaigned to protect lesbian spaces, by hosting female-only speed dating nights. She plans to open UK's first single-sex lesbian bar.

She has been criticised as transphobic for excluding transgender women – which she rejects. Her launch comes as a court case is being heard in Australia over whether a trans woman can be lawfully excluded from a female-only social networking app called Giggle.

#Jenny Watson is a genius #Men can't be lesbians #L'App #J. K. Rowling was right #Good news for lesbians

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dandelionjack · 5 months ago

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an essay about Rogue, The Chimes of Midnight, and how i believe all this ties in to the overarching themes of the series EVEN IF the inside-a-tv-show theory proves untrue

“Rogue” named himself after a stock character. he is the archetypal Handsome Rogue because there has to be a Handsome Rogue role in a period drama story set in Austenesque Regency England.

it’s all theatre — smoke and mirrors. just like the war waged against imaginary foes in boom (because there needs to be an Enemy in a wartime story) was theatre; the creation of the Bogeyman in space babies (because there needs to be a Scary Monster in a children’s bedtime story) was theatre; The Woman following Ruby in 73 yards (because there needs to be a Ghost in a folk horror story) was theatre. dot and bubble less so, but it’s wise to note — the dots created the slugs after all. they invented the slugs so that there would be a tangible Creature for the finetimers (and the Doctor) to fear, rather than simply being betrayed by their own technology. because that’s exactly what the false, harmful narratives colonialists tell themselves — stories of taming and conquering a wild Mother Nature and her ferocious beasts — have trained them to expect from the world. the dots were telling a story too, or rather putting on a play.

the penultimate episode of any doctor who series, if not always leading directly into the two-parter finale, will typically begin to tie up loose narrative strands that have stretched across the entire season. at a first impression rogue doesn’t seem to be doing that. but then you take a closer look at the antagonists: creatures that play a role for fun without the slightest regard for those around them. lethal LARPers. cosplayers out to kill. to put it pretentiously, a hyper-realistic theatre of cruelty.

to nobody’s surprise, i’m bringing up my favourite eighth doctor audio drama — the chimes of midnight. edward grove gives every person trapped in the time loop a designated role: the chauffeur, the doctor-detective, the plucky young lady of the house, the lady’s maid, the scullery girl, the housekeeper. they keep playing these roles, over and over, until they begin to forget their original identity, until the part they’re playing takes over their entire sense of self. the servants keep dying over and over because they cannot transcend their roles, because they believe themselves to be “nothing but a scullery maid”. they are reduced to the parts they play in the narrative until they become nothing outside of it, until they become confined to a single location.

the chimes of midnight is set in Edwardian-era England, a time of restrictive, prescriptive class, status and social roles which defined a person’s life and career trajectory — this strict delineation is driven to its logical conclusion and deconstructed under the unnatural conditions of Edward Grove. similarly, rogue is set in a Regency-era mansion — another historical period defined in the popular imagination by its complicated social rules, elegant courtship dynamics, strict class barriers, gossip and elitism. these two doctor who stories don’t have any intentional watsonian connection, but they are deeply linked on a thematic level.

high society is forced theatre. a 24/7 LARP. play your part, put on your costume, don’t interrupt the performance. the audience is waiting. they’re oh so hungry for tragedy.

the biggest part of them all, the most sought-after role, of course, is The Doctor. a standard to live up to. a name to wear like a banner, a pledge, a promise. he has to be like this because this is what he’s like.

the Scullery Maid scrubs the kitchen floor. The Detective searches for clues. the Chauffeur starts up his car. the Duchess hosts a glittering soirée. the Rake hides a secret fling with the Wallflower. the Rogue breaks hearts and broods on the balcony.

and the Doctor? the Doctor dances. “onwards and upwards”. forever in perpetual motion, spinning and spinning and spinning across the stars. never pausing to breathe. never stopping.

p.s.: so, pray tell, what is Ruby Sunday in all this? “The Companion”, of course. smart, funny, sassy, quick-witted, brave, cheeky, curious, self-sacrificial. she almost feels generic because she’s meant to be. she wasn’t born. she was written. an essential part of the story too. circling the Doctor like a satellite forever.

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wonderjanga · 1 month ago

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I love your headcanons!!! Do you think that with Fawcett being a time bubble and magical influence and when new technology is introduced to the city that it changes? Like the engineers study magic as well due to the proximity to the Rock of Eternity? I'd imagine like perpetual motion machines do exist and parts of the plumbing system are fantastical magic animals. Like the old telephone wires are autonomous snake-like entities that Marvel has to untangle sometimes. (They do get tangled up). It's all very surreal and dream logic stuff.

I would love to see what's under the hoods of their cars. Do they run on pixie dust or dragon tears? Are there small sprites keeping it all together?

I’ve actually never really thought about this but here are some ideas! I think they would study magic when getting engineering degrees cause I’m pretty sure they’d just think of it as apart of engineering maybe. Like for example, when building houses they’d make fairy doors in certain places. I also think that instead of Lightbulbs for street lamps they hire fairies every night to make themselves light up. They get payed in pretty stones. Detectives can hire ghosts to help solve crimes. I think their cars run on either, but they’d be higher quality gas so most people would use normal gas. I also think there would be lawyers who work specifically with cases about fae. There’s gonna be lawyers to get that first born back. People might use magical herbs in everyday cooking too. Like someone might get a dried leaf called mystic petals because when ground up, they taste similar to sugar. (The plant makes hair, skin, and eye color more vibrant) One of the teachers at an elementary school is a Lich that has nothing better to do but teach. Or a Centaur works as a PE teacher. I also think that Fawcett could be so affected by magic that the buildings and sidewalks could be sentient. Like a little kid’s about to trip on a crack and the pavement moves the crack out of the way. Or someone who’s vandalizing a building gets hit in the face when the building pushes a brick out. Certain roads seal up their potholes, and maybe Billy is running down an alley being chased or something and the alley walls close up behind him cutting his pursuers off. The flowers grow all year around in a certain part of a city, it could be hot all the time in another, it could snow frequently in another, and trees could start turning orange and letting leaves fall in another because of the presence of spring, summer, fall, and winter fairies who split Fawcett up into small kingdoms. Billy oversees their diplomatic affairs. You find Santa at the grocery store buying cookie mix because “it’s cheaper here than at the North Pole”. The Spirit of Halloween would start pestering people in beginning of September to put up their Halloween decorations. The Easter Bunny would be a local attraction to go see, as it would be in a meadow every Easter making eggs and giving them to other bunnies to go hide. There’d be tones of restaurants in Fawcett with from from multiple creatures. You can go to a small place on 45th, where you can order from fairies who make sandwiches and soups using traditional fairy recipes and herbs. Or a small stand ran by orcs who sell Owlbear on a stick and roasted Blood Hawk legs. There could be a pair of yetis who sell snow cones using snow from the Himalayas. They have human flavors like grape, and yeti flavors using fruits grown from their tribes. When zombies crawl out of their grave, there’s insurance for both the damage to the coffins and the ruined grave and for people who get bitten. Doctors tweaked the polio vaccine for zombification. Wind elementals help people they favor when they fall. Water elementals help move snow from roads. Earth elementals help with construction. Fire elementals help melt down metals for jewelry stores and factories. Harpies sing for crowds. Gelatinous Cubes can be used as lubricants for machinery and extremely strong glues. I also think the rock messed with time. There are dinosaurs displayed at the zoo. Certain buildings look like they’re from different eras. Gothic architecture, favored by vampires. Victorian architecture. Neoclassical architecture. Also there are wyvern. Though they’re all the size of vultures. They’d have multiple different scale colors which have been made into jewelry or bags. Animal rights activists heavily protested that, and did the same thing they would do to mink coats in the 90’s to the dragon scale items. They threw paint on them. Mimics have exterminators to sniff them out. Shapeshifters wear certain tags while in magical form so they won’t get flagged for animal patrol. There’s also a bunch of other races such as lamia, gorgons, lizard people, homuncules, and goblins.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #this was much longer than i intended #Post limits suck #This would’ve been longer

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crazydiscostu · 1 year ago

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Eve Wireless Motion Sensor

Smarten up your smart home!

Today we’re checking out the Eve Wireless Motion Sensor, a funky little gadget that will revolutionize the way you control your smart home! Let’s dive into the features and benefits of this mighty device. (Product supplied for review purposes) We recently got to grips with their EVE Home Weather Station and were impressed with ease of use. Their Motion Sensor follows suit in that respect.…

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 1 year ago

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Donatello's First Love—Splinter's Talk

mostly bayverse, could be 2003 if you squint hard enough. did it a little different with this one compared to the others :0 word count: 1.6k

Spanning his messy corner of the Lair, Donnie's many monitors mounted to the wall were alight with a blue glow. The same few camera feeds rotated between the locations outside of their home and other places, monitoring, and allowing surveillance to take a backseat in his mind while he worked. At his desk, he gently squeezed a pipette into the mouth of a breaker, waiting for the reaction he was looking for to occur.

"Interesting," he mumbled to himself, "I wonder what happens if I were to supercool the mixture."

He placed the substance in a tray and prepared another batch, this time, much more concentrated. There wasn't much to do around the house besides experiment with the materials he'd salvaged. That was fine; he enjoyed the process, and filling notebooks—and his walls—to the brim with chemical equations, notes and mathematics that hardly anyone but he could read.

Careful with his large fingers to not drop the pipette, he sucked a few drops up from the test tube, going in to add to the mixture. He squinted, almost there. And then the startling alarm pinged on the screen next to him, making him jump and squirt the chemical on his work surface. He quickly wiped up and looked over at the computer. "'Motion detected: [y/n]'s apartment complex'," the screen read, switching camera feeds to one of the multiple tiny cameras he had set up. He only put cameras where he thought it mattered; he was paranoid about an ambush, and even more so at her place than theirs, now that she was coming and going from the Lair. The likelihood of their enemies finding out her association with them was about a fifty-seven percent chance, fifty percent too much for Donnie.

He scanned the monitor for signs of anything suspicious, but it turned out to be only a friend dropping by with a key to put a package inside, with [y/n]'s permission.

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly feeling silly. He made sure the person left her apartment—and locked it back—before quickly switching the feed. That was his one secret nobody had managed to catch him out on yet. Even so, he felt slick and a little guilty for spying. But, justifiably, they needed to know if she ever was in danger! He dismissed the notification and rotated the feeds manually. "Whoops. Sorry, [y/n]...yeah, I'll just switch that back."

He shuffled around to resume his work titrating. Except Splinter stood curiously behind the desk, eyes trained close on the monitors, and then Donnie. Donnie flinched—Splinter usually didn't come in or near his lab. In fact, none of his family normally bothered him when he had his nose in his work, because none of them understood it. Not even Leo bothered to try to get the details. The details went over their heads.

"So, Donatello, what is it you are working on?"

"Oh, Master Splinter," Donnie greeted him, glancing back to make sure the monitor was no longer on the door to her apartment. He picked up the pipette and test tube he'd knocked over before, "What is it?"

"Refer back to my last question," Splinter replied. He leaned calmly against his cane and looked all around the cluttered lab. Notes taped, tacked, even glued to walls. A whiteboard full of impossible equations, various pieces of technology in disrepair he'd picked up from trash and things going to recycling. Quite the mess, but Donnie knew where everything was. Splinter cocked his head slightly. "What disorganization," he commented.

"Disorganized to you," Donnie corrected with a smile, "but I can find anything I'm looking for—it's actually 'unorganized', implies that it never was organized. The definition of 'disorganized' suggests that something once was organized but now isn't, but I never once had this place in order," he rambled.

"Donatello," Splinter interrupted. Once his son got talking, it was hard to stop him. He just had to interject to get a word in. "What is it you are doing? You have been very unfocused lately. This is strange for you."

"Unfocused" was an understatement. With a mind already running miles per minute, he was getting caught up in his own head. Getting his work station back to a functional state, he set up his tube tray, answering, "Titrating these and writing out their chemical equations. The brain's like a muscle, gotta exercise it and stay sharp," he said. And with all that sharpness, he was only half-suspicious as to why Splinter was suddenly interested in what he was doing.

Splinter nodded. "Then I must not have seen miss [y/n]'s apartment complex on your screen. Carry on."

Donnie froze, watching Splinter out of the corner of his hazel eyes. His stomach dropped. So, it was one secret—they weren't going to understand, he was just as protective of their home, too! What if she couldn't call the police, or even them in time if someone broke in? Her apartment wasn't in a good area, Donatello already didn't like that. What if someone grabbed her? He couldn't put his mind at ease without knowing.

"I—well, this was a recent development, you see," Donatello stuttered, fidgeting with the purple wraps around his hands. He realized then how weird it all looked and panicked. He'd never meant for it to go this far; his cautionary measures just kept escalating more and more with his feelings for her. "I swear, it's just outside of her place! I would never put a camera in her apartment, that would be creepy, and way overstepping," he explained. "I told her I'd always look out for her and that she can count on me."

"Oh, I suppose it's no problem, then, since she gave you such consent," Splinter said, looking away momentarily to scratch his chin. His eyes snapped back over to his anxious son and popped a hairy brow up as he knocked the end of his cane on the floor to grab his attention further. "Is that right, Donatello?"

He wanted to go into his shell. I'm busted, this is not good. "Don't tell her! So, I, um…I didn't exactly…" The thought trailed off. He didn't need to finish that sentence for both of them to know.

"Precisely my point. Now that we have made that clear, would you like to tell me what this is really about?"

"No! I mean, I will, since you're asking, but—agh, I swear, I'm not a creep," he said. "I just wanted to make sure she'd be okay. That's it."

Splinter crossed behind his desk, slipping an arm around his son's shell. Donnie wanted to pull away. "Come with me. Let's take a walk."

He led them out of the Lair into the tunnels outside their home. They could loop around easily and end up back at the Lair, and Splinter knew Donnie was going to resist talking if the others could be around to hear. Sometimes, you must play on other people's terms, he thought, listening to the quiet drip echo as they ambled through the sewer. He figured it was time to do a little damage control, although he normally pledged not to interfere with his sons and them making their mistakes. However, he didn't want to see Donatello make a potentially hazardous one to himself.

"Now, you must understand, my son, you cannot know everything at once," Splinter said, avoiding an accusatory tone. "You have a brilliant mind, but you certainly don't tend to see the obvious."

"What do you mean, master?" Donnie questioned. The "obvious" being under any other circumstances, his actions would definitely be seen as "creepy". The notion flew right under his radar as something to worry about, as their circumstances were anything but normal.

"Of course, you are a young man, you want to watch out for the one you love," Splinter pointed out. Donnie cringed, even though he hasn't made much of an attempt to hide that fact. He was excited to explore something new, why should he have hidden thos feelings? He didn't shout them to the world. But it was well-known among their family that he'd beaten his brothers to the punch when it came to her, and no going for it was an unwritten but understood boundary. Still, this wasn't a conversation he was prepared for have tonight; his mind was still back at his lab.

"About everyone but Michelangelo has noticed you've been retreating to your lab more often recently." He chuckled. "And your antics around her are obvious, again. Loosen your grip a little. You are annoying your brothers vying for her attention."

Donnie felt a rush of embarrassment come over him. Yes, he was showy—expressive, maybe too quick to whisk her away to demonstrate his new inventions, the stuff he'd discovered. Donnie knew he could hyperfixate on and obsess over things; she was on his mind more than not. As for annoying his brother, he wasn't the strongest, but he was the smartest. He was much more eager with his staff and putting his siblings back in their lane when she was around. The electric component on his weapon came in handy for quick corrections, and goofing around.

Through all of that, he remembered having a moment of clarity when she was inspecting his computer setup one night and the camera almost flickered to hers, to which he scrambled to shut it off. Conveniently, he brushed that aside.

Donnie lifted his goggles, rubbing his face sheepishly. "I guess you're right," he admitted.

"The things you do for love," Splinter shook his head. "Be sure you do not push her away by accident. You are fortunate I had the mind to come talk to you about this before you made a mistake and a fool of yourself. Consider it a fair warning," he said as he looked over at his son, who waited quietly for him to continue, "to not overstep."

"I understand, loud and clear."

Splinter nodded in agreement, "Good. I trust you will take this advice well. You have a good heart and good intentions, Donatello, do not be clouded by your mind. Your brain is not your only quality."

"Thanks, master Splinter. I'll let up on it," Donnie relented with a small smile. He was still uncomfortable, feeling a bit dumb. He always was so caught up on making predictions, keeping everything running smoothly and safely that he didn't always consider how that worked for other people. Just because it made sense to him, didn't mean it made sense to them. Note that for later, Donatello, he reminded himself. He turned around to head back to the Lair.

Splinter stopped to take in a little sunlight from the grate above his head, stopping Donnie in his tracks. "Oh, and Donatello," he called.

"Yeah?"

Splinter assumed parental status, and Donnie knew that scolding tone all too well. "Tell her about it, or turn that damned camera off."

~wooOoOOOoooOooOooo partitionnnnnnn~

Side rant: I actually hate it when people portray Donnie (except for 2012 iterations) as shy and unconfident. He is literally the opposite in 2003 and Bayverse. Donatello is not "a little baby uwu" and I'm tired of people making him look so meek 😭

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #donatello x reader #donatello #master splinter #tmnt fanfic #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2003

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chaibewriting · 1 year ago

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A DOLLAR MAKE 'IM HOLLER (pt. three)

yandere! gang leader! sanemi shinazugawa x chubby! black! fem! reader x yandere! gang leader! katsuki bakugou

masterlist. part one. part two.

-> NOTES: my bad y'all, didn't mean to take so long with this part, but life was happening, however, i'm somewhat pleased with the way that this turned out and I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, the next chapter will be even more of a conundrum. be on the look out for that one soon because I've already started writin' it. -> WARNINGS: threatening messages, unknown numbers, stalking, manipulation. -> WORD COUNT: 5.2k

FALLING asleep after such experiencing such a terrifying chain of events was no easy fret, however, you managed to somehow fall into a dreamless sleep. Perhaps you were outwardly glad to not be back alone at your apartment and your long time best friend sleeping beside you managed to put you at ease. You were grateful for her and Tanjiro, they had come rushing to your aid as soon as you’d called out for them. Asking for assistance or help of any kind was a bit of a struggle for you at times, especially considering how you were raised.

As the sun began to rise, revealing itself through the window of Nezuko’s bedroom, you stirred in your sleep and slowly opened your eyes, lids fluttering as they adjust to your surroundings. To your surprise and sudden realization, Nezuko had scooted closer to you in her sleep and wrapped an arm protectively around your waist with her cheek squished against your back, effectively spooning you from behind. Fortunately, it was a rather cold season so the extra warmth was welcomed, even if it was by surprise. Then again, Nezuko always had a tendency to be a bit of a cuddle bug in her sleep, you had learned to live with it, finding it somewhat endearing.

Carefully, you lifted her arm just a smidge, enough to slip from her hold and sit up, then carefully tucked the pillow you’d been laying your head on under her arm, which she immediately cuddled to her chest.

When your feet touched the floor on the side of the bed, you sighed, reaching up to rub at your temples for a moment of clarity. The memories of the previous day were coming back to you slowly, but still all equally frightening. Suddenly, you look towards the nearby dresser where you recently left your phone and something /told/ you to get up and look at it. Your intuition screamed for you to, and so, you do exactly that, relatively slowly but you still manage to stand up and shuffle towards the dresser. Sharply inhaling, you snatch up your phone, and thanks to oh-so-wonderful technology and its ability to detect motion, your screen flashed on and previews of notifications appeared, one new message waiting to be read. After unlocking your phone you hesitated for a moment's time, but your finger betrayed you as you opened the message to full-screen and nearly vomited after reading what you’d been sent. Squeezing the device in your hand, you were sure that if you were any stronger you would have crushed it in your hands.

Nothing had prepared you when there was a sudden blare of an alarm behind you, causing you to yelp and nearly jump a foot off the ground, dropping your phone in the process.

Fucking Apple alarms…

Rising like a vampire from a coffin, Nezuko sits up straight in her bed and yawns, scratching at the back of her neck and grunting when she realizes some hair had slipped from the bonnet she was wearing (something you had so graciously gifted her last Christmas). You were frozen, still processing the threatening message and calming your racing heartbeat after being frightened by Nezuko’s alarm, and when she finally turned it off, your shoulders drooped, followed by a silent sigh.

Once she finally took note of your standing form, your back still facing her, Nezuko squinted and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands before she said your name, voice laced with worry.

“Y/N…? What are you doing standing up? Did something happen?”

Her question brings you back down to reality enough for you to finally squat down and retrieve your unscathed phone from the floor, silently moving to her side of the bed to hand the device to her.

Fortunately, the screen hadn’t locked and the message in its entirety stayed clearly displayed and allowed for the brunette to read what you were showing her. There was nothing but silence on her end as she stared down at your phone, gripping it nearly as tightly as you had when you’d first read the text. The silence was deafening as she did nothing but stare at your phone for a few minutes, obviously deep in thought seeing how her brows were knitted in the middle of her forehead and her lips were pursued in a focused pout.

When she finally did something, she inhaled sharply and turned your phone screen off, setting it face down on the bed while she pinched and massaged the bridge of her nose.

“You’re staying with me until things blow over, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Y/N. This has just gotten a whole lot creepier.” She finally said, dropping her hand and turning her head to look at you. Staring back at her, you pondered her words, rubbing at your arm in a moment of deep thought. Once again, you didn’t wish to be babied but right now, you were glad that she was offering for you to stay with her. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to step foot in your apartment right now, let alone go back to staying there /alone./

Nezuko promptly waited for you to start putting on a strong front, ready for a debate about your safety, but she was surprised when you slowly nodded your head, no words leaving your mouth. Your reaction caused a frown to appear on her face as she stood up and walked towards you, opening her arms and beckoning you to her. Carefully, you went to snake your arms around her waist and she hugged you back, squeezing you in a gentle way that always had the tendency to make you feel safe.

…

Thanks to this new development, you didn’t feel up to going to work today which led to you having to call your second-in-command at the restaurant— Pony. You didn’t give too much detail, knowing that she would start to worry for your safety, and instead said you just needed a couple days to break. Luckily, she understood and said to take all the time you needed to before the phone call had ended. Now, you were seated at the dining table in the kitchen of Nezuko’s house, slowly consuming the breakfast that she and you had conjured up together. You’d showered, done your hygiene routine, and got dressed before coming out to eat, even if your appetite was nowhere to be found. Nezuko soon joined you and took a seat across from you at the table, eager to start scarfing down the food in front of her, she always did have quite the appetite.

“Wanna come to work with me?”

Your friend suddenly asked, shifting some rice and rolled egg around on her plate. You looked up from your plate and thought about her suggestion. If she were to leave the house, you’d be left alone again. To your thoughts, to your fears, and to everything in-between. Such thoughts caused you to start chewing at your bottom lip, nearly ripping some skin off in doing so. It took a bit of arranging of said thoughts before you were able to exhale before nodding your head, finally speaking up for the first time since you’d woken up.

“Sure… I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here alone all-day, at least if I go to work with you I can help around and keep my mind busy.” It sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than giving reason to her but she simply smiled and nodded at your words. But then a thought came to mind on your end once you realized a bit of an issue that made the hairs stand on the back of your neck. “I think— I’m gonna have to go back to my apartment to pick up some more clothes, I didn’t pack much.”

Such words caused Nezuko to pause and stare down at her plate for a moment, tapping the ends of her chopsticks against the porcelain while she thought. And then she seemed to have a plan come to fruition as she went back to eating nonchalantly.

“We can just call Mirko then, I’m sure she’ll come running if we tell her what’s going on.”

“Ugh, and she’ll probably come with a lecture about me missing her and Mitsuri’s self-defense classes.” You murmured, already hearing what the woman would say to you as soon as she caught wind of what was going on in your life currently.

This caused your best friend to only laugh and shake her head, deciding that she should finish off her breakfast before the day would continue on.

Nezuko was the one to make the call since you didn’t have any desire to touch your phone at the moment, still a bit spooked by the threatening message, rightfully so. The two of you had plopped down onto the couch in the living room as the phone rang, waiting for your enthusiastic friend to answer on her end.

“Nezu? What’s got you callin’ so early? Need me to come and do some heavy lifting at the shop?” Her somewhat raspy voice asked, nothing but energy in her tone, along with the sound of something in the background. It sounded like she was lifting weights. Typical.

“Hey Mir'! No no, there’s no need for that, but I do have another request, or I guess I should say /we/ have a request. Are you busy right now?”

The sound of movement on the other end, as well as a groan was heard before Mirko sighed out a reply. “Nope. Whatcha need?” The brunette then looked at you, silently urging you to go on and say something. With a gulp, you mentally prepared for whatever Mirko would say next, and with a shaky greeting you gave a brief summary of the things that happened and what ‘request’ you were making for her.

…

Once you were done, probably putting in a few more details than necessary, the other line was silent, almost as if the woman’s brain was processing all of what you’d said—- which was more than likely the truth.

And then, with a sharp inhale she spoke up.

“Y/N…” She started by saying your name in a scolding manner, making you freeze up and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for what was to come next.

“Why did you keep this a secret for so long?! You should have told someone! That’s so goddamn creepy and weird! Of course I’ll come and escort you too! I swear to Bugz Bunny if I get my hands on that stalkery piece of shit I’ll grind 'em into protein power 'n make them into a motherfucking shake. I’m comin’ over right now.” Mirko rambled, you could already hear her moving around swiftly, you could even hear people calling out to her when she shoved them aside to get out of her way.

“Gimme like ten— no, fuck that, give me five minutes.” She stated before ending the call, you could only imagine what kind of laws she would probably break to get there.

Mirko was right, it didn't take her ten minutes to get to Nezuko's place, in fact, it took her a record breaking amount of three..that woman is a terrifying force to be reckoned with. That was something unspoken but her getting here in such a short time frame further solidifies that fact. And before you knew it, she was sitting at the table with you and Nezuko, finishing off whatever the two of you hadn't finished eating. You still don't know how it happened, it was almost like she'd teleported into the dining room, but you knew better not to question it and just go with the flow.

"So, do you think you know the stalker? Maybe it's an old classmate or something." Mirko began, enjoying a spoonful of rice as she glanced between you and Nezuko with curiosity. "Classmate? Huh. That would make a lot of sense, there were a couple of weirdos that used to smell your hair and stuff when you weren't looking." Nezuko added, starting to sip some tea from her mug. You glanced towards her with a baffled look, this was the first time you'd heard of this. "Eh!? Since when?! You never told me that???"

The woman coughed nervously and waved her hand around. "I didn't wanna worry you, plus they only did it once, then I told Tanjiro about what happened and he took care of the rest."

Both you and Mirko stopped everything you were doing and looked at your brunette friend, staring her down as she smiled and continued to nonchalantly enjoy her tea. Then, you looked at one another before giving each other a look that spoke millions of words.

"Scary..."

...

Fortunately, Mirko's presence aided in soothing you both, she was a tiny little thing but had the spitfire of at least one hundred great beasts with a smile that often set your worries aside. And in no time, with her help and Nezuko's, you'd packed up about a week's worth of clothes for your stay at Nezuko's. It'd been a while since you had a roommate, but at least you'd feel a little safer and less at the mercy of whoever was trying to 'sweep you off your feet'.

After dropping your bag off at Nezuko's place, Mirko escorted the two of you to Nezuko's Flower Shop and she was on her way, repeatedly telling you both to call or text her if anything seems out of the ordinary or if either of you feel unsafe about something. Then, she left with as much enthusiasm as usual, leaving you and Nezuko to busy yourselves with the daily tasks of running a flower shop. Nezuko was glad to have you to help her along, making it easier for her to open a little earlier than usual. If there was one thing you knew for sure about Nezuko and her work was that she was very serious about her craft and she was constantly busy, all for good reason. You were glad you had her to keep your mind busy and away from staying back to the immediate danger that was revealing it's ugly head every time you thought about it. You'd even made it a point to tuck your phone away into one of the desk drawer's in the little office Nezuko had in the back of the shop. One thing you hadn't expected was for the shop to be so busy with people, which you usually didn't have a problem with. But you couldn't help the feeling in the back of your mind, what if you're stalker knew where you were right now? What if they were one of the customers coming in today? The idea made you anxious but you tried to keep your nerves under wraps, helping Nezuko wrap bouquets and ringing up customers at the register. Everything would be alright, nothing out of the ordinary.

...

"I can't fucking BELIEVE she's friends with a goddamn cop. You sure we don't have him in our pocket?" The passionate, browless man asked as he paced around the carpeted floor in front of his partner's desk, clearly irritated about the build up of recent events involving their romantic life. His blond counterpart sighed from where he was, looking at him blankly through the lenses of his reading glasses. "How many times do I have to tell you that I already had shittyhair check? Stop gettin' freaked out. This ain't gonna change shit. It just means we gotta put the plan into motion a lil' earlier than we anticipated."

Sanemi stopped his pacing at that, turning to look at Katsuki with his permanent wide-eyed gaze. "And how the fuck are we gonna get the ball rollin'? D'you got some kinda masterplan you haven't told me about, man?"

The short answer was 'yes.' Katsuki made a show of explaining the bare minimum of the first step he decided to take and upon doing so, Sanemi gave his partner the side eye, clearly trying to see who would be the one to start off the man's plan. And since Sanemi's overwhelming presence was guaranteed to make their beloved piggy hightail it away, Katsuki decided upon himself to be the one to set things in motion. It was for the best with all things considered.

When would the plan start? That would depend on the one they currently have watching Y/N's every move at the moment.

If there was one thing you could appreciate about helping Nezuko out, it was the difference in smells; compared to wings and dipping sauces, the smell of flowers was a nice welcome. Alongside the calm and relaxing atmosphere, it seemed to put you at ease, even if just a little bit. It had put you in such a calmer space that when Nezuko suddenly ran out of the specific ribbon she used to tie up her special bouquets, you were quick to offer your services. But of course, Nezuko was a bit skeptical and protective.

"I could just close up for now and we can both head to the crafting store, shouldn't take too long if we speed walk—"

You cut her off with a shake of your head. "The least I can do is do this for you. It'll be fine, store's not even that far from here. Should take me just a few minutes to get there and back here, plus, I don't want to let some stalker make me become a recluse."

Naturally, Nezuko frowned at this, seeming to ponder your words as well as your safety, causing her to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. It was her way of fidgeting when she felt a deep sense of anxiety. Instinctively, you gently grabbed her hand, squeezing it with your own. She stopped fidgeting and looked at you with a pout, before sighing, her shoulders slumping as she accepted your offer. "Okay, okay... you're right, but, I don't want anything to happen to you, y'know?" She then let go of her own hair and huffed, pulling a hand away from yours before making a fist at the sky in a dorky movement. "That bastard's gonna pay when the time comes... Let me go get my purse."

Turning on her heels, she stepped away from you and went into the back of the shop, soon coming back with her wallet and a fistful of bills, as well as the tiniest bit of ribbon she had left to make it easier to find in the crafting store. And with that, you were off.

You almost felt like Dora with Nezuko making sure you had your phone and shit before she let you go out on your adventure. Where was Boots? The thought seemed to cheer you up a little as you stiffled a laugh, unknowing of a pair of electric yellow eyes and another set of onyx ones watching you from across the street over a cup of coffee they were nursing. They'd heard the entirety of you and Nezuko's conversation, thanks to the little bug they planted in the shop when the two of you were busy, and they were already informing their bosses of your movements.

Perhaps, walking to the crafting store was proving to take a little longer than you'd anticipated, but, at least you had a second to just wander around, and you felt a bit safe since the streets were somewhat busy with a sprinkle of traffic here and there, in the street and on the sidewalks. At least if your stalker *was* watching you right now they would be unable to do anything with all the witnesses around you, at least, you hoped that would be the case. Quickly, you shook your head, hoping a bit of physical deterrent would keep you out of falling into a pit in your mind, followed by a deep inhale and exhale.

With the crafting store in your sights, you picked up your pace, and much to your delight you were able to enter the store without any anxiety following in your footsteps. Entering, you chewed on your lip and debated on whether or not you wanted to spend a little time lollygagging in the holiday decorations or just go straight for the ribbons aisle. You chose the former, wandering over to the decorations to have a quick look around. It didn't hurt to start planning for decorating your franchise sometime soon, Halloween was coming up after all.

Perhaps... you got a little lost in the sauce as you were looking, giving a certain man ample time to speed his ass over to the crafting store you were located at and enter with a sense of determination in his stride.

How did you get caught in staring at a faux jack 'o lantern that lit up and sang a song from Night Before Christmas? You weren't sure exactly but it was mesmerizing enough for you to be oblivious to the threat that entered the store, clearly looking for something, looking out of place with his intimidating expression and permanent scowl. He began to slowly step forward, scanning the aisles as discreetly as he possibly could.

In that moment, you had finally tore your gaze away from the singing pumpkin and remembered your goal, you would come for decorations later. Stepping out of the aisle, you mindlessly started marching towards the general area of where the ribbon would most likely be, putting yourself in the sights of the man actively *hunting* you.

You had walked right past Katsuki and he instantly recognized you, his eyes following your every move as you made your way through the store. He soon followed in your strides, not even bothering to hide himself clearly following behind you and even turning to go down the same aisle as you. You'd yet to notice, too focused on getting the ribbon for Nezuko and then taking your leave.

As you headed down the aisle, you came across the section of ribbon and took out the sample Nezuko had given to you, making a quick scan around to try and find it as quickly as possible.

Now that Katsuki has found you, he paused, loitering about two yards away from you, staring at the abundance of yarn in front of him while still keeping you in his peripheral. He wasn't some acting fiend, but he knew how to speak to get things he wanted, usually with a bit of aggression but it always worked. Most times he would just swoop in and sink his claws into his desires, but he knew not to do that with you, he needed to truly think about this and not frighten you away.

After a moment of decision making, he plucked up some random skein of yarn and started casually approaching you, almost as if he was trying to get closer to get a better look at your features. Which wasn't hard to do considering the fact that there weren't many black people in this part of New Japan anyways.

“Knew I recognized ya. Long time no see, Miss /Hooters/.” The man says, standing behind you as you're squatted down and comparing the ribbon sample and another ribbon side by side. You paused what you were doing and narrowed your brows, obviously confused, before you stood up and turned to look at who was speaking to you. Soon, you came face to chest with the blond man who'd disrupted the peace at your restaurant some weeks ago. With a glance up, you were able to better recognize him, studying his striking features. It was difficult to forget his spikey, sharp hair and equally sharp carmine eyes, and you hated to admit it but he was attractive. You quickly raked your eyes over his form, taking note of his t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. He was dressed casually this time around. Studying him further, you noticed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, along with the red yarn he had clenched in his hand, causing you to raise an eyebrow. He was watching you watch him, and you couldn't help but be suspicious.

"Is there a reason why you're talking to me right now? If you're looking for yarn recommendations, I can't help you. Sorry." You weren't really sorry, but you didn't know what this guy was capable of, something about him just screamed 'danger', not that you were the type to run away with your tail between your legs when threatened.

Even so, you looked away from him and glanced back down at the ribbons you were trying to compare. Nope. Wrong one. You huffed out of your nose and continued on your search, taking a few steps away from the man who'd decided to approach you. You plucked up another roll of ribbon and compared it to the sample, hoping to find it as quickly as possible so that you could leave and not be in the presence of this man anymore.

Katsuki continued to watch you, the gears turning in his head for a moment as he thought quickly on his feet. Slowly, he began to approach you again, keeping some needed distance between himself and you before he spoke again. "I know you'd rather continue with– whatever you're doin' but, I'm gonna use this coincidence to apologize on behalf of my friend. Didn't mean to disturb your place of work, he's just a piece of work and can be a little… *intense.*" He gruffly stated, watching as you kept up your search, back still turned towards him. That was one thing you weren't expecting from a man who looked angry all the time, an apology. Your brows furrowed as you looked back at him over your shoulder, thinking about what to do next. Then, you glanced back down at the yarn he was holding, deciding not to answer what he'd said, and instead changed the topic. Turning away, you nearly jumped for joy when you found the identical ribbon Nezuko used just in your sights, you grabbed the entire stock of them and sighed, standing up straight again.

"Do you knit or something?"

The question seemed to surprise him, and then he remembered what he'd grabbed as well as what aisle he was on. With quick thinking he answered.

"Nah, I'm more of a crocheter. Ran out of yarn so I came to stock up a little."

Glancing at him and then the singular skein, you looked back up at him and raised an eyebrow. "You came to buy just one skein? Hm. That's pretty goal-oriented, I respect your self-control."

He snickered at your comment (if only you knew) and then motioned to the numerous spools of ribbon you had in your hand. "Looks like you came to buy them out of their stock. You a ribbon dancer or somethin'?"

"Ha. Ha. No. I'm buying this for my friend's shop— which reminds me, I should probably get going before her hair turns grey from worrying." You'd stated, preparing to depart from the man and go pay for the ribbon. You commented and turned, beginning to head towards the check-out line, he fell in strides with you, not seeming to let you wander too far.

Noticing his presence, you look back at him and raise an eyebrow, with the spools of ribbon still in one hand, you put your free hand on your hip. “Is there a reason why you’re following me around like a puppy?”

“You should let me buy you dinner sometime. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’re both here. Might be fate.” He remarked, staring down at you with a gaze you couldn't read. The thought seemed to make you chuckle, raising an eyebrow at his cheesy words, though you somewhat admired his straightforward attitude. "If I didn't know any better it would sound like you're trying to ask me on a date even *after* you've already apologized. Is this how you usually pick up women?" Now, it was his turn to scoff and he flashed you a smile that regrettably caused your heart to flutter just a tad bit.

"Heh. Ya caught me. So… whaddya say?"

The person in front of you in the line stepped forward to start getting their things rung up and you stepped forward as well, pondering the man's offer before a realization came to mind. You were still on edge about having your apartment broken in, along with the weird messages, and this obvious gangster was flirting with you. Tanjiro was

going to do his job and you were safe for now, but what if… You looked at the unnamed man for a second, observing him a little closer as you thought things out. Maybe if you went on a date with this scary-looking gangster just once, the stalker would take a hint and go the fuck away. Then again, what if the stalker was possessive? That would mean, they would probably try and hurt this gangster guy in revenge, that would be a death sentence but it could work out in your favor, as dark and cold as that sounded. Perhaps the benefits outweigh the cons of going on a singular date with this guy.

"Next."

Snapped out of your whirl of thoughts by the voice of the cashier, you move to place the heap of ribbon onto the counter and the cashier starts ringing everything up. And just as you're about to use Nezuko's cash to pay, Mr. Carmine places his yarn down on the counter as well and holds his hand up to stop you from getting your cash. Instead, he inserts his debit card into the card reader before you can even protest. You could have stopped him, but you didn't, you simply tucked the cash away and gathered the ribbon after it'd been paid for. In silence, the two of you walked out of the crafting store side by side, and once outside, you finally broke the ice.

"Fine. Just one date though, and nothing else. And don't think I'll agree to anything else just because you paid for some ribbon." You shoved the spools into your pocket and then retrieved your phone from your other pocket. To your disdain, you had new messages from your stalker but you ignored them and opted for creating a new contact for him. "Give me your name and number. I'll text you later."

Your attempt to control the situation made Katsuki all the more infatuated with you but he simply agreed, giving you his full name, along with his number. Once you saved his information, you turned and walked away from him, heading back in the direction of Nezuko's shop, tucking your phone back into your pocket.

Katsuki Bakugou… seemed like a fitting name.

Katsuki watched as your figure became more and more distant before he chuckled, it seemed his plan was a success, and you were none the wiser. It was probably for the best that you remained ignorant, for now, that would just make things easier for everyone.

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ms-scarletwings · 1 year ago

Text

This Single Oversight Will Bring Irken-Kind to Its Knees

I have a little riddle for you.

What does an ant nest, a computer, and the ancient city of Troy have in common?

While you ponder the significance of this question and consider your answer, there’s a few things I want to analyze about the worldbuilding of Invader Zim.

We may have heard it said before, least I have (and agree), that the fate of the IZ universe appears to be a rather bleak picture.

Through our lens of focus, being upon Earth and an oh-so specific nutball waging his battle upon humanity, we often don’t do as much thinking about the larger cosmic war taking place meanwhile. Not between the Meekrob and Tenn, not between the Tallest and every dumb luck threat they are thrown against, but between the Irken Armada and all life in the entire universe, sentient or not.

Their intentions will not be made any more clear, between outright eradication or eventual enslavement of every lifeform they set their sights on. While they have alliances and neutral treaties, those agreements seem few and far between, as well as born from temporary conveniences. The cards have already been dealt, and all available evidence has indicated that every planet they are aware of is doomed from the moment The Massive was operational.

Though littered with inefficiencies and incompetency that could suggest an empire in internal decline, the development of the control brains and other centralized command crutches of the species suggests the Irkens can still keep a well oiled machine running, no matter how many mishaps happen along the way. At least, that machine and their plundered resources will definitely outlast the survival of their enemies, for sure.

To speak of their enemies, there has not been a single competitive race within the show that demonstrates any credible threat to Operation Impending Doom II- only those that can resist the conquest a little bit longer than others, or those who survive by appeasing Irk (or evading its detection). The fall of Vort, which stood as the homeworld of the only aliens with the technological ability to match the armada’s firepower is…. Really bad news. That’s to say the least of comparatively primitive, TINY planets like Earth or Blorch, standing zero chance in the way of what’s eventually coming. This is a war that has continued despite the death of two.. FOUR Almighty Tallests if you follow the movie’s events… and Irkens wholly are still thriving for it across the Galaxy.

So, given all of these facts, and the perception that the Irkens (like any invasive species or colonial force) don’t seem to be a society that will make responsible and/or sustainable use of their ill-gotten territory… it seems like this is how life across the universe ends in Invader Zim one day: Not with a bang, not with the whimper of heat death, but through screams muffled under the bloody boots of a dominant predator- a predator that is, itself, doomed to cannibalize its own once it hits the carrying capacity of all existence.

Bleak, concrete, and horrific as that may sound, there’s still a “however” here to consider!

Yep, that’s me about to point one of my big fat fingers to the sky and protest- Irk just might be,

Not so Undefeatable, after all!

And not only have I figured out exactly what sort of countermeasure you need to destroy these invaders, I have reason to suspect it’s a plan already long ago set into motion.

Let’s break it down,

An Irksome Achilles’ Heel

True, individually, the bug bastards are irritatingly tough to kill through conventional means. True, collectively, they are nigh impossible to outmatch. And more than most anything else, they owe this tenacity to two things: numbers, and R&D. Possessing some of most state of the art pinnacles in transportation, communications, and military equipment, the Armada found a knack for being able to steamroll most lesser planets before it.

The genius of the individual PAK unit grants each and any one Irken a theoretical path to partial immortality itself, by route of consciousness archiving. I strongly believe that kind of cybernetic progress was also one of the stepping stones that led to the creation of the Control Brains. Nonetheless, this very same strength of the Irkens’ has also proven to be the source of their greatest vulnerability.

Paks, Paks… Oh Paks. The entire race’s civilization revolves around such technology the way we do around our own brains, our own hearts, and our communicative network. For all intents and purposes, and as I’ve gone on about ad nauseum in my other spills about the show, a PAK is all and at once

• Synonymous with the holder of their soul, consciousness, being, whatever you want to call their personhood.

• Able to have their data repurposed by future generations, in the result of an Irken’s permanent death.

• A universal necessity shared by the entire population.

• Susceptible to alterations, sometimes by intelligent enough individuals (as demonstrated by the Zimvoid comic arc), but usually by a Control Brain, directly.

In addition to that last quality, there’s another way the code in a PAK can be changed, for better or worse- Via evolution. Though I am talking about digitized neurology, the actual data in a PAK is a lot more comparable to biological DNA or a “self-learning” AI than it is a rigid computer program. By this, I mean that its code is subject to certain changes over time, perhaps both directed and completely random, particularly during the recycling of its information back into the Smeeteries.

And this is actually good design on the control brains’ part, the same way not reproducing Irkens as genetically identical clones was. Genetic and digital diversity are desirable goals to keep in mind if you want a healthy and versatile stock of workers, engineers, soldiers, and everything in between. We’re talking about highly sentient, highly intelligent, and emotional organisms here. A static drone mindset is going to offer them inadequate ability to adapt to their lengthy life experiences or be unique persons. How else would social mobility have purpose in their world? How else could the cream of the crop rise so far above their peers? That positive was deemed worthy of an obvious risk, however: computational errors.

When the Bugs Get Bugs

IZ does not clearly lay out what it means for an Irken to be defective, but it gives us a general idea. Defectiveness is not something diagnosed from a code scan for this missing value or that incorrect variable. It’s not judged by one specific character trait or quality that’s abnormal for an Irken to display. “Defective” is a judgement stamp, wielded by the Control Brains when they gauge the total sum value of a life’s contribution to the species. And it’s not one given to Irkens which are merely incompetent, no. Anyone proven to be unfit for their standing is given generous opportunity for redemption or simply reassigned a more suitable occupation. If it were based on likability, we’d have seen Skoodge sent to Judgementia years ago.

Rather, it’s given to those who are viewed as so twisted that they are proven to be an existential danger to their brethren. Irkens that are so destructive to the essence of the collective that their memory must be purged from the record and their identity erased.

I adore the enthusiasm behind fans who want to view this as an analogy for disability or neurodivergence against a conformist society, but the metaphor I’m seeing is one of extreme antisocial behavior. A defective Irken screams less “adhd/autism” to me than they do serial murderers (of their own) or outright traitors. Pardon the use of a gross phrase, but it’d seem we were talking about an Irken equivalent of what the outdated gens would have dubbed the “criminally insane”. No one on screen has ever shown Skoodge or Tak the sort of concern that would get them sent to the Spike of Judgement, but when Zim was in that hot seat? NO one was doubting what his verdict would be.

^ courtesy of “The Trial’s” transcript

I think about the 40 shmillion mistakes a lot.

It’s such a vague quantity. But it sure sounds like a hell of a big one. And what mistakes… what did the lil squirt even have to compare them to? There’s no standard one person an Irken can be. Every presentation of the flaws in that code to the control brains hasn’t ended up a flaw to him.

I only started writing this because I really couldn’t stop thinking about the 40 shmillion. There’s no chronological room for bad self-modding to add up to that so quickly. DNA replication, nature’s own sloppy and random process of creating new life, can be excused around 120,000 hiccups when duplicating with a 6 billion pair-long protein. But this kind of shuffling is under a futuristic AI’s precise eye. Yes, defects happen, but as bad as him? From birth??? How could you possibly get that many detrimental deviations from the mechanical fucking god-queen(s) of their entire homeworld?

And then it hit me.

You don’t. Not from Irk.

The hot take I’ve been charging for this entire time is thus.

Zim is not defective by any random accident. In fact, I smell the tampering of foreign sabotage.

Not only is this guy the thing his kind fears more than any else, they have every right to be shaking in their stance.

That puzzle i posed at the beginning of this journey, have you seen what I’ve seen yet?

Because the answer I was looking for as to what similarity connects an anthill, a PC, and a city from Greek legend was a most effective tactic for taking them down.

Do you know the best way to deal with a bad ant infestation? Cuz you can lay down all the raid and crushing action you want, but you won’t really be getting anywhere unless you target the pests directly at their queen. To that end, liquid ant baits are marvelous inventions- a sweet substance hiding a small amount of slow acting poison. Poison to be peacefully delivered by the stomach of an ant to the rest of her colony, poisoning her kin, who sicken more members, on and on until the queen is destroyed and the entire nest perishes. An insidious toxin to do all the work while its user never lifts a finger, pretty ingenious.

And when it comes to computers, we also have ways to attack entire networks at source, from quietly and far away. “Trojan” was a category of malware responsible for 64.31% of all cyber attacks on Windows systems in 2022, and they still make up a majority of active malware hits today. The concept is deviously simple. The malicious code is hidden within an innocent looking program, maybe even within a legitimate software that does what it’s supposed to. Once the stowaway is invited into the system, it can get down to it some sneaky, nasty, destructive work on your device. As for what those acts could look like, well, malware exists to do all kinds of things. Mostly something involving trying to get money/information from you or hijacking your computer for whatever its creator wants to use it for. And some of them will just up and wreck your shit, disable your antivirus software to open you up to more infections, disable important operations, wipe your data. Use your imagination.

And as for Troy.. well, where do you think Trojan programs got their name? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, Irkens have their Armada, bionic drones, and homeworld- in other words, the thriving swarm of army ants, the billions to trillions of computers they so rely on, and their nigh untouchable fortress, always at war.

And some damn crafty bastard(s) in the stars said

“Here is their sugar-bait,”

“Here is their cyber attack,”

“Here is their wooden horse.”

And one particular race is going to be getting the last laugh before long.

Nerds That Are GOATed With the Sauce

That’s right, I thought about this all the way through to finding our prime suspect. And let me tell you, NO ONE in the Galaxy reeked of fish like the Vortians did. Get over here and lemme show you my whiteboard with all the red circles and polaroids on it.

- The Means

In a way of tragic irony, Vort has contributed more than any else to the same Irken conquest that turned on them in the end. A natural talent for cutting edge engineering and technical development actually does not seem to be what Irk already came into the ring with. For how mighty and superior they view themselves, the greatest achievements of their military can actually be owed to Vortian outsourcing. When we would have gotten a look at Tallest Miyuki’s very own “finest minds” during her reign, notice something interesting about these guys below,

Zim there is the ONLY Irken to be found! Yes, transferred there because of the punchline explanation of ‘he breaks everything he touches so maybe he’ll have an affinity for weapons research’ but damn right he actually did! And still does; I don’t want it to go unsaid that Zim has shown MUCH more technological skill and innovation than near any other Irken we’ve seen.

Another fun thing to note about this is that Lard Nar was also part of this lineup, and in the transcript he was in the process of working on the blueprints for The Massive. (which leaves you with the cursed knowledge that Zim, Prisoner 777, and Lard were all familiar coworkers long before the events of the show) And that brings me back to what I’m saying about the real reason the Vort natives were enslaved and imprisoned instead of outright sweeped after conquering. The Armada needs their skills, because Vortian advancement is something their own scientists couldn’t come close to. Left to their own devices, Vort could have easily outmatched them at an earlier point in history. It’s a people that figured out infinite power sources and potentially wormhole technology, while PAKs were something a disfigured human tween with a lot of time on his hands was able to crack. If anyone could outpace and outsmart the defensive measures of the Control Brains, it’s going to be them. And what better, cleaner way to sabotage the enemy than from within.

The very same strings of inserted code that cursed Zim with his delusions, paranoia, lust for destruction, and horrible tactics may also have blessed him with a determination and intellect higher than almost any creature alive. The saboteur gave Irk the most powerful racecar in history, and then fitted it with bicycle brakes. No matter how hard Zim tries to conform to what will give him admiration, no matter how competent he is at keeping himself alive, it’s as if he is instinctually compelled toward whatever actions will cause the MOST damage to his allies in the process. Dib may think he’s the bulwark against the invasion when, ironically, he’s fighting against the one being that’s predetermined to be the arrow that strikes Irken leadership right in their dumb, green heels. (There is also an instance in the comics where Dib figures out that Zim is the ace in the hole for total Irken eradication but that’s another fun story.)

Oh, oh HO HO, and that’s only what he’s capable of doing before the empire’s actual immune system against defects like him wakes up and notices!

Three planetary blackouts, two dead generals, and a whole swath of dead invaders was just the fucking warm up, babey! All that is merely the kind of loud disruption that you need in order to fulfil the real thing this Trojan horse exists for in the first place.

What a celebration of hubris the Spike of Judgement was. Yeah, let’s take our method of filtering the corrupted data from the hive mind, and completely centralize it on a single planet! As well, let’s have the very purging agents also be the same ones to perform the evaluations themselves, I’m sure that it would be unthinkable for any outsider to design a worm that could make it through the brains’ firewalls. Goddamn spectacular. Like inserting an infected USB into your laptop, the Tallest never realized what kind of beast they woke up by plugging that PAK into the Spike’s mainframes. Those brains were meant to handle an expected spectrum of deviation when it came to defective Irkens, never a sleeper virus of this complexity.

From here it probably won’t even matter if Zim survives much longer on Earth, his virus has already spread to the very thing relied upon to keep things like him out of the data pool in the first place. With the Judgementia brains corrupted and no higher authority to overrule them, the firewall is effectively broken, and you know what that means? Bigger cracks for future defectives to start trickling through, both spontaneous and artificial. The ideal scenario is one where a degenerating and glitched population accelerates the incompetency of the empire to the point where it just implodes on itself; nevertheless, even a disease that only slows down Operation Doom could be a game changer, by giving the rest of the little guys more time to band together a coalition strong enough to strike back when the time is right.

- The Motive

The history of these two races’ alliance is something I lament us not having more lore to pull from- how far back it goes, what the character of the Vort was like during that time, what the Irkens had offered in return- a few among dozens of questions it rears. The implication behind how it ended lies in Zim’s creation that slayed Tallest Miyuki. Interestingly, the Empire never received the memo of what exactly went down, or, perhaps, stubbornly denied the account of the other scientists who were there that day. Neither Red/Purple nor the Judgmentia Brains had any idea that Zim’s actions led to the death of a Tallest. So, makes sense that the Vortians became the unintentional scapegoat (no pun intended) for the incident, and the rest is history.

Note: It’s also in the realm of possibility that Vort was actually the one to withdraw from the alliance instead, given that the same blob that devoured Miyuki (purely the fault of their Irken transfer) also went on to cause untold amounts of devastation. Red’s reaction to the real story stuck out to me as more telling, although.

But why am I even talking about this? Zim was decades old before war was declared on them, and either people’s regard to each other seemed strangely… respectful, if anything.

But, was Vort really a monolithic bunch? Irk was already an empire by this point, and diplomacy with those they needed something from did not mean they weren’t otherwise an aggressive force in the universe. For all we know, the alliance itself might have been coerced, or result of depraved leadership among the Vortians. Any citizen with a conscience who could see the writing on the walls would be disgusted by giving so much aid and brown nosing to such a menace, no? I know who would have seen that writing before anyone else. Brainiacs who are smart enough to build something like The Massive and all its bells and whistles would know better than anyone just what it was all capable of in the wrong hands. The collateral damage against your own people might be a sacrifice worth making in the face of the alternative.

- The Oppurtunity

So.. that’s all well and good, yeah? A why, and a what, yet this is actually the tricky part of saving the galaxy,

Sneaking your StupidifyIrk.exe file onto the assholes’ homeworld without alerting either them or your own treacherous, weak, collaborator superiors to your actions. Infecting and releasing a random Irken alive would be far too dangerous, far too noticeable to the point where they could just be destroyed outright before given a chance to wreak real havoc.

But what about releasing a dead Irken? 🤔

PAKs are only screened for criminal flaws when errors begin to affect their body’s behaviors in destructive ways. A fully competent scientist, or soldier, or navigator performing a lifetime of loyal service to the empire and then meeting an unfortunate end? Their minds’ shadows can be accepted back into the data pool no questions asked. That’s only business as usual.

That almost makes new smeets something of a reincarnation of their ancestors. Personally, I see it kind of like replaying a video game and re-rolling your stats, even if you’re reusing your character’s name and general play style.

Either way, we come full circle to my theory about Zim’s actual origin. Maybe not “our” Zim, but the previous iteration of data that was shuffled to create his person. Whoever they were, I’m convinced that they were also an exceptional individual. They were probably pretty arrogant, but it was a more earned confidence, and they were a prodigy genius, the likes of which that was drawn to work alongside Vortian allies, as another researcher. Then, an untimely demise befell them. I couldn’t say they fell victim to some unfortunate accident, considering the cockroach durability of their body. No, I find it a lot easier to imagine they met their end in one of the more embarrassing ways for an Irken to die- A PAK stolen, disabled or forcefully detached by an assailant they might have allowed a little closer than they should have. To the homeworld, it’s a small matter. One more PAK recovered by the natives of the friendly planet, brought back home to be repurposed by the smeeteries, right?

Well, that’s what one smartass might have been hoping for.

And they really were a clever cookie, because that scheming seed is fruiting beautifully.

#invader zim #iz #vortian #irkens #invader zim headcanon #iz headcanons #planet Vort #scarlet talks about things #sci fi #long post #absolute ramblings i mean holy crap #longass post

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